It had been a week since Snape had lashed out at her so maliciously. Hermione had buried herself in her schoolwork, eaten in her rooms, and barely spoken to anyone. The rest of the students had been filtering back over the weekend, with her friends due back this evening. She was dreading it. While her skin had thickened long ago now, Snape had found and used the one weak spot that could really, really hurt her. It would have been a difficult enough few weeks without him adding to her pain. Sighing, Hermione glanced out the window and began putting her outwear on before making her way through the castle and out into the school grounds. The snow had stopped several days ago, though the footing was still icy and uneven. Several things about their last interaction had stood out to her, beyond the obvious. She only visited Dumbledore's grave on a Sunday, Snape had 6 other days he could go if he really didn't want company, if he had started going on a different day, she would have taken the hint. It was silly and illogical to say he had no choice. This made her think that he did want her company, or at least wanted some sort of company, and that was obviously unacceptable to him. He clearly resented her. Resented her presence, resented her caring, resented her intrusion into his isolation, despite the fact he clearly needed it.

Hermione sighed, she could already see Snape's tense form sitting by the grave, this wasn't going to be fun.

He didn't look up as she approached, but instead of sitting, she moved to stand before him, forcing him to look up at her. His dark eyes were cold and lifeless and there was a hunch to his shoulders that made him look unusually small.

"I won't be spoken to in such a way." She said firmly, meeting his eyes and keeping her head held high. "Not by you, not by anyone."

She had expected him to sneer or snarl or leap into rage once again, but he only blinked and turned his head away from her, and his hair fell forwards and hid his expression.

"Are you going to apologise?" This was bold of her, she knew. And she knew full well how easy it was to lash out when you were hurting. But she also knew that if whatever sort of relationship they had been building was to continue, they had to be on equal footing. He had to know he couldn't treat her so badly without consequence.

He didn't reply or look at her again. After several minutes of staring at him in silence, Hermione turned on her heel and made her way inside. She wouldn't let herself look back, so she didn't see how Snape tipped forwards and held his head in his hands as he stared desolately at the floor.

Hermione greeted her friends when they returned. She went to the Great Hall and ate her meals. She went to her lessons and dutifully made notes. She ignored Ginny's worried glances and went to bed at 10pm every night and cried herself to sleep. It was silly, she knew, that this is what had pushed her over the edge. She wanted her parents. She wanted to feel normal. She wanted to forget the whole thing and do her best to be there for Snape, in whatever way he would let her. But this was important. It mattered. And for her own, fragile sanity, she couldn't be around someone who had no qualms inflicting such pain on her.

"It's not surprising I'm a little down." Hermione told Ginny and Neville when they cornered her mid-week. "Christmas was a hard time for us all. I think the letter from my parents has just hit me really hard. I'll be okay."

She smiled, buttered her toast and pretended she didn't see the unconvinced glances of her friends. She went to classes, she ate in the Great Hall, she went to bed. Snape seemed the same as ever in lessons; listless, sad, uninterested. She focused on her work and not on her own sorrow or her worry for the caustic man who wouldn't meet her eyes.

On Saturday, Neville dragged her down to see Hagrid who laughed and gave them rock cakes and smelled of alcohol. Hermione smiled too, sometimes genuinely. The whole thing made her feel nostalgic and homesick and about 100 years old.

On Sunday, she spent the day in bed.

On Monday, she went to see Dr Prewett.

The next week was easier. For whatever reason, telling someone how much she was struggling helped. She was still sad and tired and anxious, but she felt validated and like she had finally taken a step in the right direction. She made time for her friends and took comfort from their presence, she read for pleasure, she showered for longer and she made sure she got some fresh air every day. If she looked at Snape for perhaps a little longer than was necessary, that was no one's business but her own. And if she put away the photos of her parents, that was okay, it was okay that it was too painful to deal with right now.

On Friday, she talked to the group about Dr Prewett. Draco, Hannah and Lavender already went to see her, none of them knew the others were going. Ginny and Neville decided to go and see her next week. Luna informed them she was using interpretive dance to deal with her trauma. No one laughed. Not even when she demonstrated.

On Saturday, she went for a walk around the lake with Ginny and Luna and they talked about everything and nothing and giggled and made a snowman.

On Sunday, she spent the day in bed. And cried.

On Monday, she went for her weekly appointment with Dr Prewett.

The next week was rough, but mostly because Hermione had a nasty cold. It made her head feel fuzzy and she missed being able to breathe normally and she hated, hated coughing. Poppy had given her some Pepper Up when she'd seen her, but it had only helped for a day, and she was loathed to make a fuss when only a few months ago people had been ripped apart in these very walls.

"Granger."

Hermione jumped, whirled around and pointed her wand at Draco Malfoy who held his empty hands up in surrender.

"Easy." He said, his blond eyebrows up high in surprise. "I thought you heard me coming."

"Obviously not." She sniffed, stowing her wand and trying to slow her pulse.

"I'll remember those reflexes." Draco smirked. "Not sure if I should be relieved or concerned that you go for your wand rather than throwing a punch these days."

Hermione smiled slightly in spite of herself, and gave the youngest Malfoy her full attention. They had never spoken just the two of them.

"What can I do for you, Draco?" She asked politely, trying to ignore the fact that she needed to blow her nose.

"Millie." Draco said softly. "You can't help her. But I think I can."

"Go on."

"She needs to learn how to lay low, how to make strategic alliances and how to defend herself when needed. She needs to know how to increase her standing in Slytherin, how to move in pureblood circles, how to survive in this post war world. I can teach her that, you can't. And what's more, I think she'd be open to learning from me."

Hermione blinked.

"I was thinking something more along the lines of emotional support."

"Of course you were." Draco snorted. "From what I can tell, she actually has a few decent friends who can help her with that. I can help her survive, thrive, move forwards."

"Okay." Hermione frowned. "Why are you making it sound like a sales pitch? And your standing in Slytherin isn't exactly solid from what you've said. No offense."

"None taken. My status is beyond saving now, but I only have a few more months stuck in this hellhole until I'm free. I understand how these things work, even if I can't beat the system right now. Millie is young enough and untainted enough to have a real shot here."

"Then do what you can, if it won't jeopardise you or her."

"You realise you're giving me permission to teach her how to be like me, don't you Granger?" There was a slight challenge to Draco's voice.

"You hardly need my permission." She smirked. "And I reckon you're too old and wise now to try and teach her any of your old pureblood crap. Or how to turn into a really cute ferret."

"That was below the belt." Draco smiled hesitantly. "Do you want me to tell her it was your idea?"

"Only if you think that would help. I don't really understand Slytherins, but I think it might be better if she didn't know, I can't imagine she'd want to feel indebted to me."

Draco pushed his hair back and gave her a sour look.

"You really are an insufferable do-gooder, you know that right?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"You sound like Professor Snape."

Draco looked surprised, and then laughed. And Hermione felt better than she had for weeks.

By the time Friday came around, Hermione was feeling really quite ill. She wanted to be in bed, but she was loathe to cancel their little gathering. Besides, it wasn't really like it required much from her, she only needed to be there. She sat quietly sipping her tea as the others chatted. Snape had been on the Astronomy Tower for the better part of an hour, unmoving. It was an odd place for him to be spending time, but Hermione tried not to worry, and she was so tired, and her head was so groggy.

"You okay, Mione?" Neville asked. "You're really red in the face."

Hermione touched her forehead, it was very warm.

"I'm okay, just too hot." She said absently, removing her jumper. "It's just this stupid cold."

"Are you sure?" Said Hannah, her voice laced with concern. "You really don't look well."

"I'm fine." She stood, uncomfortable to have them all looking at her, and went to get a drink of water. She took a sip and turned back, but the floor moved, her head pounded, and then everything went dark.

Hermione lay in the aggressively white bed in the Hospital Wing, looking out the window at the full moon. It was well past midnight now, her friends had all reluctantly gone to bed with promises to return first thing in the morning and she was so tired and she couldn't think and everything was fuzzy. But she knew that her fever would make her dreams more vivid, and given how horrific they could be when she was perfectly healthy, the idea of sleeping didn't appeal.

A slight rustle of clothing made her turn her head, and there, standing to the side, half hidden in shadows, was Professor Snape. Hermione blinked several times and shook her head slightly.

"Hello." She said finally, her voice hushed. "I half thought you were a hallucination."

Snape said nothing, but took a step closer and gazed avidly at her face. There was a furrow between his brows and his eyes were intense. Beneath his impassive expression, she was sure she could sense … concern.

"I'm okay," she smiled slightly. "It's just the flu. I have a high temperature and apparently my body still isn't fully recovered from the war and so isn't dealing with it terribly effectively. I passed out and everyone panicked. I don't really need to be here at all, but I think given what happened last year, my friends, Minerva and even Poppy all just overreacted. It seemed kinder to just let them fuss."

Still, Snape made no comment, but he stepped closer again so he was next to her bed. His hands were balled into loose fists.

"I really am okay." She said softly. "I'll be back to normal in a couple of days. I promise."

Snape closed his eyes and breathed deeply for several seconds. When he looked at her again, the storm of raw emotion swirling in the depths of his obsidian eyes almost took her breath away.

"I am sorry for the way I spoke to you after Christmas." He said quietly. "You did not deserve it."

Hermione clenched her jaw and looked up to the ceiling, determined not to embarrass him with her tears. It wasn't that much really, as far as apologies went, but it was far more than she had ever expected and she knew it must have cost Snape a lot.

"No, I didn't. Thank you for apologising." She said, and impulsively took his hand. "I'd like to move forward from it now."

"Just like that?" Snape sneered at her, but he did not pull away.

"Just like that." Hermione squeezed his hand, ignoring how tense he was and how surreal the whole experience was. "I'll see you Sunday."

"No." Snape's voice was firm and Hermione felt a swell of disappointment rush over her. "It is too soon and too cold, you need to rest and recover. Next Sunday."

"I'll see you next Sunday then." Hermione smiled again and their eyes locked. Snape's face was wary and closed off. He looked so tired. She gave his hand a final squeeze before turning her head away and drifting off to sleep.

The sky was tinged with pink and birds had begun their dawn chorus when Snape finally pulled his hand away, and left her side.

The following day Hermione felt much better, the potions Poppy had given her were obviously working. Her friends had come and gone she had been released that evening after dinner. Minerva insisted on walking her to her rooms where Ginny was waiting.

"Don't keep her up late, Miss Weasley." Minerva's voice was stern but her eyes were warm. "She needs rest."

"Tea and bed, Professor McGonagall." Ginny smiled. "I promise."

"Ginny," Hermione said, as soon as Professor McGonagall had left. "I think I need to talk to you about something, but it's weird and hard to explain and I need to know you won't judge me."

Ginny gave her a serious look.

"Let's get in our pjs then and have tea and a talk in bed, that way I won't be breaking my promise."

Half an hour later saw them both tucked up in Hermione's bed with a purring Crookshanks between them. Hermione had given Ginny an overview of what had happened between herself and Professor Snape, leaving nothing out, and to her surprise, the redhead had only listened.

"Well," said Ginny finally, frowning slightly. "He obviously does care about you. You're not delusional. And he obviously felt bad for what he said about your parents, as he bloody well should."

"But is it me he cares about, or is it just that I care about him? And he can't pull away from it?"

"Does it matter? Rightly or wrongly, you are the only person who cares about him where the relationship hasn't soured after the last year. It's kind of a moot point."

"I can't be though, can I? Surely his life can't be so empty that the irrational care of a student he's never liked means something to him? I know Minerva worries about him, but I don't think he can forgive her or any of the staff for the way they treated him last year. He's completely turned away from them all."

"Hermione…" Ginny stared at her for a moment. "We both saw those memories, and we both know what he's like. Has he ever given either of us any reason to think he's not the utterly miserable, utterly broken, utter bastard he's always seemed?"

"Ginny!"

"I'm not saying he's an evil person. What he did was incredibly brave, incredibly noble. But none of it is exactly healthy, is it? And he's hardly the sort of person who would attract hoards of people lining up to be his friends. I think he probably is so alone that any sort of kindness would be irresistible to him, however much he hated it."

Hermione thought back over their interactions. He had hated her kindness. And been unable to pull away from it, lashing out aside.

"Hermione." Ginny had sat up and turned to look at Hermione full on. "You do really care about him, don't you?"

Hermione nodded.

"Why? I get why Harry cares, though goodness knows Snape has done everything possible to discourage him. But why do you? Everything he did was for Harry, or for Lily, really, I suppose. None of it was for you. Why do you care?"

Hermione thought about everything Snape had suffered through, she thought of his pain and anguish now. She thought of his cold blue hands and his tired eyes and the way he fluctuated between tightly coiled and utterly lifeless.

"I don't know, Gin." She said softly. "But someone needs to. And he matters to me, what he's been through, what he's done for the Light, it means something."

"Do you…" Here, Ginny paused and screwed up her face. "You don't have feelings for him do you?"

"As in romantic feelings?!" Initially horrified, Hermione thought of his greasy hair and ridiculous nose and how much her parents would hate his teeth. Then she thought of his deep dark eyes, his velvet voice, his incredible loyalty and strength and the depths of his love. She thought of how her heart pounded when he was close to her, the worry she carried around with her, the twisting gnawing pain in her chest when she thought of him suffering. "No. I don't think so. But I do really care about him. More than makes sense."

"Well, I suppose we're all pretty messed up at the minute." Said Ginny finally. "There are worse things to be focusing on. But Hermione, you need to be really careful. Promise me?"

"Of course, I always am. And I really don't think he would hurt me."

"He might not physically hurt you, or even mean to upset you. I know he's one of the good guys, but the things he's been through, the things he's done and overseen and suffered will leave damage you and I can't even begin to imagine. If he is anywhere near as isolated and broken and desperate as we think he is, getting involved with him in any sort of capacity is not something you should be taking lightly."

"No." Hermione's throat felt tight. "You're right. I was worried I was inflating it and making it into a much bigger deal than it is."

"Mione, Snape came to your bedside in the middle of the night, apologised to you, and let you hold his hand. Snape. Snape."

"Professor Snape." Hermione corrected, half joking half serious.

"Professor Snape. Professor Snape did that." Ginny sighed and settled back into the bed. "I don't think you're making it into anywhere near enough of a big deal."

On Sunday, Hermione got up and showered and went to the Library with Lavender. Professor Snape was at dinner that evening, and she made sure not to examine the rush of relief that washed over her too closely.

On Wednesday that week, Hermione hung back after Potions to speak to the man who increasingly occupied her thoughts.

"Professor Snape, I was wondering if you could recommend any books about wandlore? The ones referencing it in the Library are all very vague and unhelpful."

Professor Snape glanced up at her without much interest.

"Why are you asking me?" He said softly. "Wandlore is hardly related to Potions."

"But you know everything!" Hermione exclaimed, then quickly clamped her mouth shut in embarrassment as Snape scowled. "Sorry sir, I just meant you're very well read. I thought you might know of a good source."

"I don't know everything." Snape's usually dull eyes glittered as he smirked at her. "But as it happens, I do have a decent book on the subject."

He stood and turned with a swish of his robes, exiting to his office beyond. Hermione stood and tried not to fidget, unsure if she was supposed to follow him. It hadn't occurred to her that he would give her a book he owned.

"Here." said Snape, handing her an old looking book with a worn green cover. "Look after it. There are a list of references at the end that you might find useful if you want to further your research."

"Thank you." Said Hermione softly, tapping her wand to the book to add her own layer of protection to it before she put it in her bag.

She left the classroom in a thoughtful state of mind. While Ginny was right, and his appearance by her bed had been entirely out of character, he was still very much her Professor. A distant and remote character in her life, unlikely to connect with her in anyway, despite the blurred lines that now existed between her and her other teachers.

Neville and Hannah were looking at each other. They'd been looking at each other more and more as the weeks had gone on. Hermione looked over at Ginny who raised her eyebrows slightly. She had obviously noticed too. It was Friday and they were all gathered in her little living room with a sweet tea and a cupcake Ginny had brought with her from the kitchens. The Marauders Map was on the coffee table. Snape's dot seemed to be absent.

"Professor Sinistra seems really sad. Like really sad." Lavender announced. "I'm not sure what to do."

"Did she lose someone?" Hermione asked. "It could be the anniversary, that can be triggering for some people."

"Not that I know of, but that doesn't really mean anything."

"Should we tell Professor McGonagall?" Neville asked nervously. "It must be quite bad if students are picking up on it."

"McGonagall is already too busy as it is, Neville." Ginny said firmly. "I think we should go and see her."

"What, right now?" Asked Hannah, smiling.

"Well, why not?" Ginny countered, also smiling. "We have tea and cake. And we're excellent company."

"Do you really think she'd want us to just march up there and make her hang out with us?" Hermione asked, although she could feel herself getting caught up in the silliness of it, and liked the idea.

"Even if she sends us away, I think it would be nice for her to know we cared enough to go and see her." Said Luna, dreamily. "Teachers are all just humans too. Even Professor Snape."

The others blinked slightly at this odd pronouncement and Hermione's face heated even though no one looked over at her.

"Let's go then." Said Lavender, collecting the tea things onto a tray with a swish of her wand.

"Do you think we'll need the blankets and cushions?" Said Neville, also standing.

"Hang on a minute." Draco looked mystified by this turn of events. "Are you lot serious right now? We're just going to march up to Professor Sinistra's office and … and what?! Give her a cupcake?!"

"And cheer her up!" Lavender rolled her eyes. "Surely being nice isn't a completely foreign concept to a Slytherin?"

"Being nice isn't, but this is balmy!"

"If it helps," said Luna softly, "Professor Sinistra might be very grateful."

Draco sighed and ran his hands through his hair, giving Luna an exasperated look.

"That does help, actually. But I'm staying at the back and bolting if this all goes pear shaped."

"Sounds about right." Said Ginny, glaring, but her eyes were warm and they all made their way towards the Astronomy Teacher's office in high spirits.

Lavender knocked on the office door.

"Hello Professor Sinistra." She said, beaming.

"Miss Brown?" Professor Sinistra looked from student to student, her eyes lingering on Draco, and then the tea tray. "What on earth are you all doing here?"

"Lavender said you'd seemed sad recently." Ginny said, tossing her long hair behind her shoulder and stepping forward. "We know all about that. We've come to cheer you up. Or be miserable with you, if you prefer."

It was several hours later and at some point they'd all made their way to the Astronomy Tower to watch the stars. Aurora (as they were allowed to call her, for one night and one night only), had called for more tea and cake as the rest of them had cast warming charms and conjured cushions and blankets. It was perhaps one of the surrealist nights of her life, but also one of the nicest. It seemed that Luna had been right, and Aurora had been really touched by their gesture.

"What on earth is going on here?" Professor Snape's voice cut easily though their chatter though he had not raised it. His arrival had been utterly silent, unnoticed by any of them.

"I think it's a tea party." Hannah said, looking slightly nervous, but smiling as the others nodded.

Snape blinked several times as he looked around at them all, lounging on cushions and blankets, tea cups scattered around with plates of cake, and Professor Sinistra in the centre, looking defiant and slightly bemused.

"It is several hours past curfew." He said quietly. "I suggest you all return to your dormitories immediately."

"The 8th years don't have a curfew." Professor Sinistra said, an edge to her voice.

"Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood's curfew is the same as every other student in this castle. I see no reason why they should be treated any differently."

"You wouldn't." There was real anger in Professor Sinistra's voice, before she visibly gathered herself. "Don't be a spoil sport Severus, they're with me, they're not doing any harm and we all needed this tonight. Besides, it's educational. Once those clouds clear we'll have a perfect view of Orion's Belt." With that, the Astronomy teacher turned her back on Snape in clear dismissal and reclined back onto her stack of cushions.

Professor Snape looked at Draco, who shrugged slightly, but smiled and also turned away. Snape swept through the door, his robes billowing behind him, and was gone.

"You'd think that man was allergic to a bit of camaraderie." Aurora sniffed. "Anyway, another slice of cake to the first to identify that star on the left. And then I want to hear more about this interpretive dance, Miss Lovegood."

Hermione frowned slightly to herself, sitting back and letting the others carry the conversation. From what Minerva had said, she had assumed the staff felt remorseful and indebted when it came to Snape. Aurora had treated him with curt politeness and barely restrained dislike. She had undoubtably had a difficult time last year, but she must surely understand how much worse it would have been without Snape, and just how much they all owed him. But then, even if that was true, it still didn't necessary translate into warmth or solidarity, especially with someone as churlish as Snape. Hermione sighed. There was no justice in the world if that was truly the case, if Snape could protect them all as he had, at such a cost to himself and still not inspire kindness and compassion from others.

"Aurora doesn't like Snape much does she?" Ginny echoed Hermione's earlier thoughts as the two of them settled down to sleep in Hermione's bed.

"That's what I was thinking." Hermione tickled Crookshanks' orange head. "I don't get it. The staff must surely know how much they owe him."

"I'm sure they do academically." Ginny said thoughtfully. "But last year was-" Ginny shuddered. "It was horrific, Hermione, it really was. And knowing something rationally doesn't mean you can help how you feel. And let's be honest; Snape is really unpleasant. It must be hard to like him."

"Anyone would be unpleasant given what he's been through!" Hermione cried indignantly.

"I'm not denying that. Don't get defensive." Ginny shrugged slightly. "Everyone is still in shock to some degree, it's probably easier for her to acknowledge that he helped, and still dislike him because it's familiar and he's easy to dislike. She might just not be ready to process any of that right now… It's like Dumbledore, good guy, made sure we won the war. Only … sometimes I have these thoughts … like a lot of what happened over the years seems unnecessarily complicated and … harsh. I'm in no way ready to think everything over where he's concerned, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean, actually. I've been feeling the same way."

"Right? But I can't process any of that at the minute, it's easier to just be grateful in the abstract and not think about it. Maybe we can talk it over in a couple of years. But it's probably the same where Snape's concerned, I reckon."

Hermione thought this over as they settled down to sleep. It did make sense in a way, Snape certainly existed in shades of grey, and he was easy to dislike, easy to dismiss as a nasty man and look no further. Only-

"Ginny." Hermione said suddenly. "Do you think Snape wanted to die in that shack?"

Ginny was quiet for several minutes, Hermione half wondered if she'd already drifted off to sleep.

"I don't think I know him anywhere near well enough to speak to that." She said finally. "But I'm pretty sure he expected to die."

"Really?!"

"Well think about it. All those memories, carefully selected, in chronological order, ready and waiting for Harry." Ginny sighed. "Do you really think he would have shared so many immensely private memories if he thought he was going to live? He wouldn't have needed to be quite so … intimate … to make Harry believe what Dumbledore had said. I think it was his final act of bravery, you know? To have the world know who he really was, and remember him for it when he was gone."

Hermione curled in on herself under the covers. She thought of Snape's emptiness. She thought of his lonely life. She thought perhaps part of him had died that night after all.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! I'm feeling a little rusty so feedback is really appreciated :)