Christmas seemed to have somehow snuck up on Hermione this year. She had barely noticed as the Great Hall had become overrun with Christmas trees, the corridors festooned with tinsel and mistletoe, holly wreaths on every door. Last Christmas had been so … flashes of carol singers, the graveyard containing the bodies of Lily and James Potter, Bathilda Bagshot's hollowed out face and a room full of a giant writhing snake-

"Come all ye faithful-"

Hermione blew up the suit of armour who had dared to sing near her with an unconscious Reductor curse as she blinked several times and brought herself firmly back to the present.

"Bloody hell Hermione," Ginny grinned, catching up to her as they headed to the Hall for dinner. "What have you got against Christmas carols?"

"It just caught me off-guard, is all." She replied, smiling despite her heart still hammering under her ribs. "I can't believe it's only 9 days until Christmas."

"I can't believe you're not coming to stay with us for the holidays." Ginny replied, holding her hand up as Hermione went to interrupt. "And don't give me that bull about you and Ron, the house will be so full you'll barely see him."

"I just," Hermione glanced around, they were sitting apart from the other Gryffindors, unobserved by their classmates who were clearly in good cheer now that term was about to end. "I just can't do it this year Gin. I don't feel festive, or Merry or bright or any of it. And I know you don't think it's a good idea for me to be on my own, but it will honestly suit me better to have some time to process and work through it. And I have loads of schoolwork I want to catch up on and things I want to research."

"You think I'm feeling Merry and bright?" Ginny asked, her brown eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "This will be our first Christmas without Fred. I don't how George will stand it, or Mum or Dad-" She took a deep, shuddering breath. "But we have to try, and we should all be together. Please Hermione."

Hermione reached across the table and took Ginny's hand.

"What if I come on Christmas Eve and leave on Boxing Day?" She asked. "Then I'll still get some time to myself and we'll get to be together for it as well."

"Come the day before Christmas Eve?" Ginny asked. "And go Boxing Day night?"

"Deal."


The final week of term was a bit of a write off all-round. The students were either loud, boisterous and jovial the point of near hysteria or quiet and subdued and clearly dealing with a fresh wave of grief that often overwhelmed people this time of year. The teachers too seemed distracted, Hermione had had her monthly catch up with Minerva and they had simply drunk tea and watched the snow fall from the window of her study. As Hermione had turned to leave the Headmistress had given her a quick, rough hug that had made hot, shameful tears spill from Hermione's eyes the entire way back to her rooms. No one seemed to know how to behave, and even her closest friends seemed somehow more distant.

As Hermione slowly went about setting up her room for their Friday evening gathering, she felt a deep wave of exhaustion creep over her. She wasn't sure any of them were really up to it tonight. She often had the sense that they drew strength and solace from each other during these meetings, but she had noticed each of her friends withdraw in the last week, and most had dark circles under their eyes and a quietness about their demeanour. Perhaps it would be a nice evening, perhaps they could find comfort in each other's companies, or at least be quiet and miserable together. She laid out the mince pies and glanced around the room, it was warm and inviting as it always was, but she had made no effort to decorate. Sighing, Hermione conjured some artificial snowflakes for the windows and a festive garland to go over the hearth, deciding that would have to be sufficient. All her friends were going home for the holidays, and in a way, she was looking forward to having some time to focus on herself. She felt a heavy sense of duty to her friends, despite knowing they were more than capable of looking after themselves and each other. Her mind drifted to Minerva, Poppy, and inevitably, Professor Snape. She felt a sense of responsibility to them as well, however irrational that might be.

The first knock on the door came from Ginny, then Lavender, Neville, Hannah and Luna arrived shortly after, each making themselves comfortable as Hermione spread the Map out in front of them.

"Is Draco coming this evening, Luna?" Ginny asked.

"I can see him on the map." Neville chimed in, "Looks like he's on his way."

"I wonder who he's spending Christmas with." Hannah said uneasily. "I know he has extended family, but I don't know if he's close to any of them."

"He's spending the first week with me, so we'll have Christmas together." Luna said, eating a mince pie and apparently oblivious to the 5 pairs to eyes that were suddenly upon her. "And the second week he's staying with his Grandparents on his Dad's side. They're not particularly close, but I think he wants to make what connections he can with his family now he hasn't got his parents."

"You're spending Christmas with Malfoy?!" Ginny asked incredulously. "And you didn't think to tell any of us?!"

"None of you asked." Said Luna, her tone gentle still. "And it will be nice for me as well. Otherwise it would just be me and Daddy for Christmas, and he's still not quite the same as he was before the war. Draco and I are going to cook for him."

"Well," Ginny replied, her tone suddenly fierce. "If you want to come to The Burrow at any point during the holidays, you'd be very welcome. All of you."

"Are you sure that's wise, Gin?" Hermione asked softly. "You know how Harry and Ron are about Draco, they might not take too kindly to his sudden arrival at your house."

"They can suck it up." Ginny titled her chin in the air defiantly. "We've all been through hell, Draco included, and if they can't find it in themselves to be civil, they'll have me to deal with."

"Heaven forbid." Hermione smiled and blinked away the tears that had sprung into her eyes.

"Thank you, Ginny," Luna said lightly. "I'll speak to Draco and see what he thinks."

At that moment, there was knock on the door. Draco walked through carrying a crate full of fine elf-made wine. His face had a hint of the arrogance it had held before the war, and Hermione felt herself smile slightly.

"I don't know about the rest of you," he said, putting the crate on the coffee table with a clunk. "But I feel like getting pissed."

"Draco," said Lavender, leaning forwards and peering at the bottle of the wine in front of her. "These are vintage bottles, they would have cost a fortune. We can't drink it."

"What should we do with it then? Sit here and look at it?" He replied, smirking.

They all exchanged uneasy glances with each other.

"Listen," Draco said firmly. "I feel like shit, this time of year is awful. And the 6 of you are the only people to have shown me a scrap of decency since the war. Let's celebrate not being dead or in prison."

"I'll drink to that." Said Hannah, leaning forwards and opening a bottle with a flick of her wand.

In a matter of minutes they all had a large glass of wine they were sipping. Hermione had never tasted anything so divine in all her life. She'd never really been into wine, but this was sweet and crisp and gentle and … she took another sip. It was going to be hard to go back to butterbeer after this.

"I'm surprised at you Granger." Draco said lazily. "I thought you'd bring up school rules."

"Ha" Said Ginny. "Just goes to show you don't know Hermione at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Well" Said Ginny, smiling even more widely as she took in Hermione's anxious expression. "In her first year she petrified Neville to sneak out of the Common Room after hours. And set Snape on fire."

"She did what?!" Asked Draco, his whole face lighting up.

"Don't forget about that dragon she snuck out of the castle in the middle of the night as well." Said Neville.

"I didn't do any of those things alone." Said Hermione, halfway between humour and embarrassment.

"And then in second year she brewed Polyjuice Potion in the girls bathroom, breaking at least 50 school rules." Ginny cut across.

"Before I got Petrified by a giant bloody snake." Hermione grumbled.

"And of course in third year she broke not only the school rules but also the law when she used a time-turner to help convicted mass-murder Sirius Black to escape capture."

"You did what?!" Lavender, Hannah and Draco all shouted at the same time.

"I used it to help Hagrid's hippogriff escape as well." She said smugly, sipping her wine as she flashed Draco a smirk.

"In Fourth year," Ginny continued, looking happier than she had for weeks. "Hermione discovered Rita Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus, imprisoned her and then blackmailed her with the threat of Azkaban."

"I knew about this one." Neville giggled. "Ron told me over the summer."

"Fifth year-"

"We all know about this one!" Exclaimed Lavender. "Hermione founded Dumbledore's Army and branded Marietta Edgecombe's face with the word 'SNEAK' when she told Umbridge about us."

"I didn't brand her." Hermione said indignantly. "It was just a hex that gave her spots. It wore off."

"Years later!" Lavender countered. "It was harsh, Hermione."

"That wasn't even what I was going to say." Said Ginny smugly. "She also engineered Umbridge's kidnapping by the centaurs, broke into the Ministry of Magic and fought fully grown Death Eaters at 15."

"So did you, Gin." Hermione responded softly. "And Neville and Luna. And you and Luna were only 14."

"That's not the point." Ginny tossed her hair over her shoulder and continued. "And that's not even going into all the bonkers things you and the boys did last year. My point is simply that Hermione may seem like a swot, but don't fuck with her."

The others laughed, and Hermione felt herself flush red with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. It was nice that her best friend obviously thought so highly of her.

"I wish I'd realised I was getting off so lightly when you punched me in the face." Draco said, smiling.

"You did what?!" 5 voices exclaimed.

"You didn't tell them?!" Asked Draco incredulously. "Any of them?!"

"Nope." Hermione grinned. "I never said a word. I'll let you tell the story, Draco."

It had ended up being a lovely evening, filled with laughter, in large part down to Draco and his offering of wine. Hermione had hugged each person goodbye for the Christmas holidays feeling a deep sense of gratitude for their presence in her life. Each would be boarding the Hogwarts Express in the morning, and heading home, leaving her behind. She had sent a Christmas card to her parents address in Australia a few weeks ago and given them the Burrow's address should they want to write to her in return. It was unlikely, she knew, but the thought brought her comfort all the same.


Sunday came, icy cold and bright. Hermione spent the morning reading and the afternoon wandering around the castle, enjoying the quietness that had come with the majority of the students' departure. It was on the East Wing of the third floor that she bumped into Poppy Pomfrey.

"Hermione!" She exclaimed. "I'm just heading up to have tea with Minerva, come on."

Poppy took her arm, ignored her protestations, and led her up to the Headmistresses office. Tea was served, drunk, and served again. Hermione watched the sky grow darker with an increasing sense of panic. Minerva and Poppy brushed off any excuse she offered to leave, and took her tension to be a sign that she needed their company.

"Goodness, it's time for dinner already." Minerva stood and stretched. "Come on ladies."

"Oh, I must be going." Hermione said, feeling herself grow hot. "I really want to finish my Charms homework today-"

"You can't miss dinner!" Poppy exclaimed.

"You have two whole weeks, Hermione." Minerva said smiling. "The homework can at least wait until after you've eaten."

She followed them silently to the Great Hall, her heart hammering in her chest. Professor Snape would have been at the tomb long ago by now, there was no way she could send word to him without raising suspicion, no way she could head there now. His absence at dinner only added to her anxiety. With so few students staying over the holidays, everyone remaining in the castle were dining together on a round table in the centre of the hall. She ate as quickly as she could, doing her best not to get dragged into any lengthy conversations, nor draw unwanted attention to herself by shooting off too quickly. Finally, after what felt like an age, she deemed it reasonable to wave politely around the table and casually make an exit. As soon as she was out of sight, Hermione broke into a sprint towards the front doors, summoning her outwear from her room and throwing it over herself as she headed into the bitter night.

It was so dark she ran by the light of her wand, nearly slipping twice on the icy ground. Professor Snape was still as a statue when she finally laid eyes on his silhouette, the black of his robes almost an exact match to the lake and the sky behind him.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" She was out of breath, her eyes raked over his tense form. "I got caught with Poppy and Minerva and I couldn't think of a decent excuse to get away any sooner!"

Professor Snape was silent, unmoving as she stood before him. Without thinking, Hermione flicked her wrist and threw little points of light into the air above them, giving her a better view of the man in front of her. His shoulders were hunched slightly forwards, his eyes were fixed ahead of him, unseeing, and his hands were…

"Your hands are blue, sir!" Hermione gasped. "How long have you been out here?!"

She littered the air around them with warming charms, feeling her concern grow when he still ignored her, still stared silently ahead. Deciding to throw caution into the wind, she conjured a heavy blanket and placed it tentatively around his shoulders, then conjured another to go over his lap, her heart pounding in her chest to be so close to him. She smiled slightly to herself as she spelled her bluebell flames in front of them, then enclosed a smaller fire in a jar.

"Here," she said gently, holding out her offering. "I forgot the tea, but this will warm your hands just the same."

For the first time, he looked at her. And the desolation she saw in his deep, black eyes made her breath catch in her throat. He still hadn't moved, so Hermione put the jar on his lap, bent forwards, and placed his frozen hands around it, letting her hands linger over his until she was sure he wouldn't let go. Biting her bottom lip, she pulled the blanket more securely around his shoulders and cast a few more warming charms, then settled herself next to him, far closer than she usually would. Silently, she cast diagnostic charms, relaxing slightly when the results came back as largely normal. He was very, very cold, but not hypothermic or otherwise unwell. Had he been waiting for her all this time? Or was that incredibly self-involved of her? Would he have sat there all this time regardless? She rubbed her hand against her chest, something about the last few minutes had deeply, deeply unsettled her.

Boldly taking his silence as acquiescence, Hermione shifted herself slightly closer, so her body was touching his, hoping the extra warmth would help him in some way. This close, she could feel the subtle shivers running over his body. Hermione frowned; the Healer in her knew she had done all the right things: the temperature around them was warm now, there was a fire in front of them, and Snape was bundled in blankets, she knew she simply had to wait for his body to warm up. The woman who had spent the best part of a year caring for two hapless boys she loved with her whole heart felt this simply wasn't enough. Snape might still be the unapproachable and unkind teacher of her childhood, but he was also the man who had risked everything to save the woman he loved, the spy who had suffered unimaginable horrors, the unsung hero of the war. And he was suffering now too. Unbidden, tears sprang into her eyes, and she allowed her hair to swing forward into her face and hide her from him. She wished, so badly, that she could give him some comfort.

"Millie Bright won't have anything to do with me." She said softly. "I'm being really careful not to draw any attention to her, I don't want to make her life harder. But I keep trying to make myself available to her and she's made it very clear she doesn't want that."

Here, she paused, giving Snape a moment to process what she was saying, unsure what had compelled her to speak, but sure somehow, that some mindless conversation was what Snape needed.

"I know you said to persist and have patience," she said finally. "And I'm really trying. I so badly want to help her, but I just don't know how."

Snape was silent and still next to her.

"I'd been thinking about asking Draco, actually." Hermione glanced sideways at her immobile Professor. "Ginny, Luna, Lavender, Neville and I have been spending our Friday evenings together since the start of term, Hannah and Draco started coming a few weeks ago. I know he has a really hard time in Slytherin though, so I don't want to put either of them in a difficult position."

Hermione fiddled with a loose thread on her cloak.

"I think he could probably understand what she's going through much better than most. But I don't know what she thinks of him, he's said they all either see him as a Death Eater or a traitor. And I don't know if the others would give her a hard time if she was seen with him. I wouldn't want to make his life any harder either, and I don't even know if he'd want to help, but it's all I can come up with."

Still, Snape said nothing, though Hermione had the distinct impression he was listening intently.

"I suppose I could just ask him what he thinks of the idea, I'm sure he'd be thrilled to tell me if it's a bad one. He's spending the first week of the holidays with Luna, I could pop over and see them when I go to The Burrow. Although, thinking about it, Millie seems to have gone home for the holidays, so there's nothing to be done for now anyway."

Hermione looked over at Snape's profile. He was still staring ahead, his body rigid apart from the slight tremors running through it, less often now, but still present.

"Is it the worst idea you've ever heard?" She watched him, hoping he would respond in some way, even if it was only to berate her.

"No." He said finally, his voice quiet and husky, as though he hadn't spoken for a long time.

"Okay." She nodded, though Snape wasn't looking at her. "Okay. I'll talk to him then. It caused quite a fuss when Luna suggested we invite him, you know, but I'm glad we did. He needs it. And he seems…"

Here, Hermione paused, not sure how to articulate her thoughts.

"He seems different. I mean, how could he not be, really. But he appreciates being included in our little group, he's even been quite … well nice isn't quite the right word, but he's certainly not looking down his nose at us all like arrogant little shit he was before."

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth, suddenly painfully aware of what she'd said and who she'd said it to. To her surprise, Snape didn't comment, and as she glanced over at him, she was surprised, relieved and perplexed to see the slightest sign of a smirk lifting the side of his mouth. Silence stretched between them. Snape seemed more relaxed than he had, his body no longer trembled and his fingers had returned to their normal colour. For a while, Hermione simply sat with him, her upper arm still resting lightly against his. Why had he stayed out here all this time? It surely couldn't be because he desired her company. Was he punishing himself in some twisted way? He certainly wasn't acting like the man she knew, from the despair in his usually impenetrable eyes, his submission to her care and simply listening to her talk, this was clearly a man who was really struggling. Minerva had said he didn't wish to be reconciled with any of the staff after the way things had been last year, and from the little she knew of his life, he didn't have anyone. The only connections she knew he had outside of Hogwarts were the Malfoys who were in Azkaban. Hermione felt a lump form in her throat. Could these Sundays at Dumbledore's grave really be the only form of real human connection he had?

She stood, suddenly overwhelmed with it all.

"Come on, sir, it's late. You still need to have dinner."

She vanished the blankets on Snape and cancelled the warming charms around them as he also stood. She didn't notice him put the jar of bluebell flames into a pocket, or the way he finally glanced at her face.

They walked by wand light slowly back to the castle in silence. Sadness was still crashing around Hermione in waves, she couldn't quite accept the conclusion she had come to, couldn't quite believe that her company could mean anything to Snape, or that he didn't have something more.

She murmured a soft goodnight to him before she made her way to her rooms, a hot shower and a restless night filled with dreams of dark, desperate eyes.


Christmas had come and gone and Hermione was once again sat in her window seat with her blanket pulled across her legs. The Burrow had been bright, bustling, Merry and utterly devastating. It had been wonderful to have Harry around her again, and nowhere near as awkward to spend time with Ron. They had all made her feel welcome, all made an effort to make the day cheerful, but George had slowly become more and more intoxicated, become louder and louder and more and more outlandish until Molly had burst into tears and her husband had joined her. The Weasleys had gathered close together, Ginny clinging to Harry's side, and Hermione had turned and run, feeling as if she was intruding on something immensely private, feeling the loss of her parents and the loss of her relationship so keenly she feared she was breaking apart. She had stumbled through the snow, blinded by her tears and her pain until Luna had wrapped her in a blanket and led her inside the Lovegood household. Thinking back on it, she had probably intruded on their Christmas Day terribly, but Luna, her Father, and even Draco had been incredibly understanding and almost unsurprised by the whole thing. She had given them a brief rundown of what had happened as she had slowly calmed down, Luna had rubbed her back and made encouraging noises, Xenophilius had brought her his awful tea and talked of some nonsense creature she needed to find, and Draco had given her something alcoholic that had tasted much nicer and told her to hang in there. She had even managed to broach the subject of Millie Bright to Draco, who had looked sad and thoughtful and said he would scope her out, whatever that meant.

"It sounds to be like Professor Snape was saying that even knowing someone cares makes all the difference, don't you think, Draco?" Luna had said, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Umm," Draco had looked at his host uncomfortably. "Maybe."

Neither of them had understood why this made her cry again.

Hermione bit her lip as she watched the snow fall gently from the sky and settle on the snowy grounds. Could that be why things were the way they were between her and Snape? She wasn't deluded enough to think there was any sort of friendship or accord between them, but could knowing that she genuinely cared about him, mean something to him? She shook her head, trying to clear it. As ever, he was a mystery to her.

When she had returned to The Burrow, Ginny and the boys had been waiting for her. She had expected them to be angry with her for her abrupt departure, but instead, they had pulled her into a group hug, and they had all cried together in a display of solidarity that Snape would have probably called 'disgusting Gryffindor sentimentality.' The Christmas card from her parents that had been waiting for her at The Burrow had been almost worse than if they hadn't written at all. It had been obviously, deliberately generic. It was in the bottom of a chest of drawers now, too important to throw away but too shattering to look at again. The following morning, Molly had pulled her to one side.

"Say it, dear." She had said.

"Say what?"

Molly had frowned at her and put her hands on her hips in clear disapproval, but her brown eyes, red rimmed and tired, were still kind.

"Say it, Hermione. It will help."

Biting her lip, the tears had sprung into her eyes and her throat had burned. She'd barely managed to get the words out.

"I want my Mum."

Molly had pulled her into a crushing hug and held her as she'd sobbed helplessly against her, feeling like a child, feeling like an old woman, feeling utterly and completely alone and yet guilty for feeling such a way when she had such a solid support system around her.

Grief was a difficult thing. Hermione thought, as she stood and made her way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. How were you supposed to get over something like a war? Were you even supposed to get over it? Her thoughts inevitably drifted back to Professor Snape. How on earth were you supposed to heal without anyone to help you through it?


For the last two days the castle had been under siege by one of the worst blizzards Hermione had ever seen. Snow was piled high against the windows and when she half-heartedly tried the front door when Sunday came around, she couldn't make it budge at all. Frowning to herself, she made her way down to the Dungeons before she could think better of it. If there was even a chance that those few hours they spent together once a week meant something to Snape, if there was any chance they helped him in some way, then she would seek him out. She had her flask of tea and really, sitting in silence with the man was something she could do at any location. Unbidden, the terse silence of her parents living room in Australia rose before her. She had opened her mouth to apologise for the hundredth time only for her Father to cut her off and tell her to leave. When she'd looked at her Mother for confirmation, she had only nodded, and told her quietly that it would be better if she didn't come back. That was the last time she had seen them.

Blinking fiercely and taking a deep breath, Hermione knocked on Snape's office door. A few moments later, he wrenched it open and glared at her. Instantly, Hermione knew this wasn't going to go well.

"Did you need something, Miss Granger?" There was a wild look to his dark eyes and anger radiated from his tense body, despite his seeming composure.

Silently, Hermione held up the flask of tea.

The anger seemed to increase exponentially as Snape grabbed her and pulled her towards him while a privacy spell shot up in the air around them.

"What is wrong with you?!" He hissed, his eyes glinting and his lips curling back around his crooked teeth.

"It's snowing, sir. I couldn't get outside." Hermione kept her voice calm and polite, though her heart pounded erratically in her chest. She didn't believe he would hurt her, but the uncontrolled fury rolling off him seemed to stir her magic, and she couldn't understand what exactly she'd done to deserve such a reaction.

"It's snowing. And you thought, what, exactly?! You thought you could show up here with tea and sympathy and I would welcome you in?! You thought I am pathetic enough to want to see you? I suffer your presence at Dumbledore's grave because you give me no choice. I do not want your company, I do not need your pity and I certainly don't want to be anywhere near you unless it is contractually required of me. You are arrogant, entitled, bossy, unlikable and don't ever let your overinflated ego convince you otherwise."

He released her and took a step back, his eyes narrowed in disgust as Hermione tried to gather herself and blink away her tears. He looked really quite unhinged after his little tirade, he was panting, his fists were clenched and the very air around him seemed to crackle with magic and hatred.

"It's no wonder your parents disowned you."

With that final, devastating blow, Professor Snape slammed the door unceremoniously in her face.

Hermione stood there for several heartbeats. She wanted to scream at him, she wanted to report him, she wanted to slap him round the face and shake him until he took back every hateful thing he had said to her. She wanted… Silently, Hermione made her way back to her room. She changed into her pyjamas, pulled her hair into a loose plait and got into bed. Then she cried herself out. Again.

Snape was obviously in even more pain than she realised. All throughout school, while he had been vicious and cruel, he had never used James' and Lily's deaths against Harry, nor the fate of Frank and Alice against Neville. But then, Hermione thought, as she curled in on herself and cried even harder, it really was no wonder that her parents had disowned her.


I'm really trying to stay on top of updates but real life is unfortunately demanding. Next chapter is mostly done and I'm trying to stay a chapter or two ahead of updates, so I should have one for next week :)