Dear community,

JKR has inspired me as she did with so many and now I've borrowed her characters as well to play with them a little. Eventually, I'll give them all back.

Maybe some mild warnings are in order:

The story roughly follows canon until the Golden Trio got captured and was brought to Malfoy Manor. After that, things in this story got a bit worse for Hermione, while Severus and Remus have survived. If you insist on a loveable Minerva McGonagall or Molly Weasley and/or if you dislike HG/SS and/or if you dislike same-sex relationships this story might not be for you and you may become happier reading something else. For the rest of you: I hope you enjoy reading about them as much as I enjoy writing them a new story.

The M-rating: Mostly this is overdoing it, but I don't want to take the risk with regard to minor readers. I'll specifically inform about to be expected M-parts at the beginning of each chapter.

Lots of love to all of you here, there and everywhere from Ape.

01 Have a Christmas, sir

25 December 1999

"What, are you doing here, Miss Granger? No students were expected at school during the Christmas holidays," he snarled gloomily.

Being soaked up in her book, she didn't hear him entering the Great Hall and startled at his voice from opposite the table where he stood glowering down at her. Goodness, did he always have to be that sneaky? It caught her mind that he probably kept practicing his spy talents, maybe only for the benefit of catching students in whatever inappropriate – or even appropriate – situation for that matter. At that, her lips twitched slightly. However, while his general behavior since the war normally added a good degree to her notion, that some things hadn't changed at least, his behavior towards her in particular had the complete opposite effect. Mentally immediately shrugging-off the flicker of sadness that came indeed with both notions, she schooled her face to neutrality within a second. She had some practice by now after all. She knew, once unleashed, she wouldn't be able to handle the sadness inside her, which was very likely to arise from that flicker already, especially given the holiday at hand and not wanting this particular professor witnessing it.

"Having myself a merry little Christmas- breakfast, sir," she answered as airily as she could muster.

Though she had recognized that there was only one more chair to the single table, which only occurred for the holiday season for all remaining students and teachers to sit together in a round of equality, she didn't know which professor would be in charge of supervising this year. Although having hoped for Flitwick or even Trelawney, she had had a faint hutch that it would be the unsociable dark Potions master. However, it was holiday season and thus she could easily sidestep him.

"Don't get sarcastic with me, Miss Granger. I am most certainly not one for merry or lenient, let alone spoiling Christmas. You may feel reliably informed about the remaining possibility of point-loss and detentions," he forbiddingly growled.

"It's duly noted, sir!" Hermione tried to bite back the sarcastic intonation. After all, it was Christmas, they were both adults and with no other students to witness anything, no urgent educational need for his head-off-biting teacher mode presented itself; at least not in her humble opinion.

To her eight-year old things-to-bloody-well-sidestep-unless-fancying-to-end-up-a-case-of-body-nowhere-to-be-found list, the young woman automatically added a mental note of Severus obviously also not being a person for Christmas. Well, apart from obviously not being a person for chatter, laziness, dawdling, dunderheads, all remaining heads in general and Hermione's head in particular and under any circumstances-, also obvious.

How wonderful to be once again the addressee of the sheer joy bubbling out of him. Doesn't it feel good to be cherished on the holiday of love and peace, she thought sarcastically, mentally rolling her eyes at his attitude and at herself for another flicker of sadness. Get a grip and your defenses up,Granger,she chastised inwardly.

Even after all these years of being student and teacher, of common order activity including everything they had done, witnessed, endured and survived, she still couldn't quite put a finger on the reason why he loathed her. It was mind-boggling although undoubtedly, a couple of reasons presented themselves: The first one being that she used to be part of the Golden Trio, which he clearly only tolerated for the sake of the greater good. Somehow she had believed his aversion was mainly focused on Harry and she was just a case of cling together, swing together. Of course she was also aware of Severus having been annoyed by her enthusiasm in class. Retrospectively, she could admit having been a nuisance and was glad for his self-control on actually never having hexed her into next week, especially given the constant strain he was under before the final battle. But she had just been a kid then, had never done real harm and could only be blamed for having been thirsty for knowledge and, admittedly, the unstoppable desire of proving it at any occasion. But if his deep grudge was really built on that, he certainly wouldn't have let her assist him brewing healing potions in his lab in his presence. They could have easily brewed in shifts to stock-up the supplies to be prepared for the war casualties on the side of light, as all were labeled, who opposed the megalomaniac Voldemort on his brutal campaign to clean the world of anyone considered not pure and make it a place of darkness, with little hope for everyone being unworthy – by whatever arbitrary definition of worthiness he might come up with.

Severus had very likely not just endured her presence back then as there had been many civilized conversations on a couple of topics during which she had found herself having enjoyed his company. And since he had always had the habit of just scaring everyone he found unnerving into silence or out of the room, she had gotten the idea that he might had enjoyed himself too. Actually, Hermione was quite sure about it and she still cherished those memories of the brainy and witty man with the extraordinary observance skills and a deadpan sense of humor. Although even during those weeks, he had actually never been nice to her in an averagely socialized way. But judged within the framework of his normally displayed teacher demeanor, she had started to think of him as something close to a friend, someone who matched her interests and offered incredible input and even tea, both only if in the mood to of course.

Well, she agreed with herself once more that the increased intensity of his aversion towards her was founded in something else. And Hermione believed that this something was the same reason of mostly everyone's resentment of her. Although his very likely rooted in another aspect of the story, no matter how out of line the resulting explanation was with Severus' personality. This aspect was based in a dark two-week period he had witnessed and which had started after their capture by Greyback's snatchers in the woods. In fact this had been herdarkest period at the extensive party - as she sarcastically named it - at Malfoy Manor, during which she had been used to entertain the guests and where Severus had shown-up twice for all that she remembered. Besides him only the Malfoys were still alive of those, who had witnessed her attendance there.

By the time she had recognized Severus' velvety voice in the drawing room for the first time, she had lost track of time already. Everything had blurted into one overwhelming mess of timeless pain and a devastating numbness of mind, probably some kind of survival mechanism. Despair had slowly turned into indifference and had only been interrupted on waking up and realizing that death, once again, hadn't wanted her yet. Maybe even death had been repelled by the lingering smell of a diversity of body fluids surrounding her.

Unexpectedly having heard Severus expressing his delight to some of the Death Eaters on seeing the 'annoying mudblood' he had 'had to endure for six years to finally pay her dues' with as much appropriate disgust in his voice as the situation and his position amongst his fellow Death Eaters had called for, she had known that she hadn't given away his secret yet. And protecting the knowledge of his double-agent status was one of the most important secrets to keep for the sake of their victory.

That there was still hope for the side of light had been a helpful reminder, since her memories at that time had already been hazy, due to curses, rape, lack of water and sleep. His words uttered there had never shuttered her and she knew that was because she somehow trusted him on a deeper level. On the day when Severus, in a creepy voice, had asked his megalomaniac master that come the time, to allow him to throw the remains of her body in front of Potter's feet to make him and his pathetic followers see their future, had given her a bit of peace too. The dark Potions master wouldn't leave her soon to be dead body (or whatever parts would be left of it) amongst those evil creatures in human shells, but would bring her home: back to light, back to humanity.

And he had brought her back. However, she hadn't been dead, though not really alive either. She'd never heard him coming, but he had touched her cheek and had asked her to try and open her eyes. She had recognized the velvety voice and had been awed by its tone and the warmth it carried, so different from the one of his feared teacher or Death Eater persona. Hermione had wanted to comply, but literally hadn't been able to. Trying however, had seemed to be enough for him as he had then told her to let it be, while acknowledging her effort by gently stroking her cheek. Lowly-voiced he had insisted that she drank the potions he then poured slowly into her mouth. As it had become clear that Hermione's tries to move the right muscles to swallow turned out to be a lost cause as well, he had gently massaged them down her throat. The last real thing she clearly remembered was a sentence: "No one will hurt you anymore." And as soon as she had felt him carefully picking her up rather than levitating her, she had relaxed and passed into welcomed darkness once more. There she had stayed for six more weeks to follow until she woke up in St Mungo's Hospital.

Next time she had seen Severus had been in court without any display of recognizing her presence whatsoever. He had simply looked through her. She hadn't exactly expected animated chatter or words at all really, but at least a greeting nod, a sympathetic nod, a nod proving she was not invisible. Her bar hadn't lain punishingly high then. Her focus had been elsewhere: She had still been in constant fear and pain, had thus been incessantly drugged, insomniac and extremely thin-skinned. But for Merlin's sake, he had saved her.

Was a nod asked too much? Had he been disgusted by what she had looked like or smelled like? Okay, maybe that was female vanity. He had carried her after all. It was more likely due to what she had done to ease her pain once she had realized that dying wasn't easily managed—coward, traitor, whore, a nagging voice suddenly whispered in her head. Or did he secretly also blame her for Fred's death, no matter the official record he gave? Or, and that would strike her typical for any other human, did he feel guilty? For not having helped her; for having found her for a second time after days and by then in a state of physical ravage that hadn't quite corresponded with her still beating heart. With all her open Cutting- and Burning-Hex wounds, whiplashes and bruises she must have been quite a sight, even for an experienced Death Eater. She remembered, or imagined she did, the suppressed terror in his voice when he had demanded to know why they hadn't informed him of her death since he had had plans with the body. Before blissful darkness had surrounded her again, she had heard someone inhaling sharply on hearing the Commander of Creep, as she had named the disgusting git, explaining with kinky joy that she was technically still alive, though not reacting anymore.

She shuddered involuntarily at this memory and startled at hearing one of the voices, she had just thought about.

"Miss Granger," Severus snarled loudly and brought her attention back to the quite contradictory reality of a Christmassy school and her Potions master opposite of her at the festive breakfast table.

She took a deep breath and shuddered again. She had to stop thinking this through when it always carried her too far away. Her muscles ached slightly from her tension.

"Which event could you possibly have witnessed that could have led to the assumption that both listening and answering me were optional?" He looked expectantly at her.

Hermione, increasingly startled that she had apparently been that far away to not even hear him speak, stared at him blankly.

"Not quite the quick thinker today, are you? Holiday mode? Banged your precious head?" He leaned slightly towards her. "For your notes: Whatever everyone else might believe about Slytherins in general or myself in particular, I do not take being lied to lightly. And given my career rest assured that I recognize a lie when facing it. Your case doesn't call for a professional, though taking that much time before answering a question is quite a give-away to everyone."

"Ahem, I'm sorry, sir. I got lost in thoughts- I'm afraid, I didn't catch your question."

His eyes locked with hers menacingly.

"No one was listed to stay. What are you doing here?"

"Uh, that question. Sorry, I took it to be rhetorical." At his raising eyebrow, she promptly continued "The rough wind and the snow. Even with spells it's nearly impossible to keep a tent cozy warm, so I decided for solid walls, comfy chairs in front of a hearth and deliciously prepared food-," adding a belated "sir."

"A tent?" he spat.

"A tent," she replied and, before being able to stop herself in her growing annoyance towards his attitude and herself for not having a real home, added, "a large piece of fabric tautened over poles and adjusted to the ground." Hearing the sarcasm herself, she quickly added neutrally, "You've seen it. Harry, Ron and I spent our sixth year in it hunting hidden pieces of Him Who Hopefully Rots In The Hottest Fires Of Hell Next To Hitler."

Suppressing annoyance makes me substituting sarcasm for inventing swear names, Hermione reflected inwardly. The intense scowl Severus provided at that was entirely lost on her, Hermione recognized with slight satisfaction. After everything, she felt more than entitled to repay some of the sarcasm to him and of course name the insane megalomaniac anything she felt like, may he disapprove as much as he wanted to. Whatever he currently disapproved of anyway, likely just her breathing.

Hmm- did he know about Hitler at all? He probably did. After all, he was a very literate half-blood, she mused.

"Camping-, in the winter-, in Scotland-," Severus said deliberately slowly and added snidely, "This struck the presumed brightest witch of her age as a good idea. Appalling."

Hermione fixated him with her gaze. You see, all my money is being used for school fees and since I don't have family or friends left it's my magical tent, which I call a home and normally I could stay with it wherever I feel like going to, but due to the torture-inflicted nerve damage - which you witnessed, you bugger - and the energy-draining panic attacks and seizures I keep having thanks to that, my magical core is currently not strong enough to apparate. Stupid me, having this sentimental wish to keep all my body parts. And now, for all that's holy, shut up and leave me be, you arrogant nasty prat!— This was what Hermione immediately wanted to spat at him, what she heard herself say, was "I don't remember having labeled it a good idea, sir, it's just my regular place to stay. For some reasons, I couldn't manage to leave for Italy as planned, so it was either freezing in the tent or being tucked-in here. Not that hard a decision to make after all. Especially with the promising company offered in the castle."

Huh! This was what her death wish speaking sounded like. Severus was annoyed as it was, no need to push it further, but then she was unnerved and hurt by him being annoyed simply by her presence. Although she was meanwhile used to people reacting to her like that, or reacting worse, or not at all, for that matter. But he was a teacher for Merlin's sake and should pull himself together in that regard. Not that he ever had.

"I do not tolerate mock in any way! Twenty points and two nights of detention!" he spat, his eyes dangerously dark when staring her down.

She managed to hold his gaze. With Mr. Filch of course, she specified mentally, far be it from you to put up with me personally and alone. Those days are gone.

"With Mr. Filch, after the holidays," Severus added belatedly.

Even though having expected it, Hermione's disappointment and pain must have shown on her face before she broke his gaze to look at the cold rests of her scrambled eggs. Not that she was particularly keen on spending her detention with Severus, but this rejection hurt very much anyway. It reminded her of the only other detention she had received since her return, which had been traumatic, because she was who she was. And Severus Snape never refused supervising self-assigned detentions; he had only ever rejected them with Harry; and even then only once. There she was back again at her assumption of his increased intensity of distaste towards her - quod erat demonstrandum. She even trumped Harry; didn't feel very triumphal.

"Alright," she simply agreed, shoving her not yet empty plate aside, focusing on her tea – perfect Earl Grey with just the right touch of bergamot – trying to sort her emotions and unwilling to let him drive her away. It was Christmas, she had a right to be here and the Great Hall just looked stunning, decorated in white and silver, tasteful and not insulting any of the Houses by favoring the colors of one. Minerva either had more tact, in this respect at least, than Dumbledore or just cared more to use it, in contrast to the latter.

Hermione would stay at least for another cup. He had had his fun now, let him brood over not having managed to make her run off or discuss with him and thus give him a chance to add to her detentions.

Although turning the pages of her book regularly to fake reading, she couldn't let go of his attitude and soon Hermione returned to her line of thoughts on reasons why. Focusing on this riddle had bothered her since the trial, but really had become something like an obsession since her return to school three and a half months ago. Despite his teaching and fear-based educational methods, as just demonstrated, Hermione basically fully respected the man opposite her: for everything he never was but had to be, for the pain and horror he had to witness, inflict and endure to keep them all safe without acknowledgement for far too long while keeping most of his sanity nevertheless.

Since she didn't expect much of anyone anymore, she also didn't expect anything of what had happened to change his feelings towards her from antipathy to liking, but since he had freely testified for her in court after the war and had ensured she was allowed to finish school here, Hermione had kind of hoped that he indeed overlooked the moral code of the Wizarding World and that she might at least had proven worthy of some minor acceptance from his side. But since the very few people he respected were treated with curt politeness followed by blissful ignorance, while she was on the receiving end of sarcasm and punishment uncalled-for, it was more than obvious that Hermione hoped in vain.

There had been times, mainly after everyone else had unexpectedly seceded from her, when she had given this some really hard thinking. Especially since she had returned to finish school and learned that there was nothing left of the unnamed companionship they had shared during their war-time brewing; worse than that, really: Antipathy worth the Golden-Trio. It had caught her off-guard. She didn't belong to the Trio anymore; or anywhere for that matter. And thus it had the capacity to hurt her even more. Severus had had first-hand knowledge of the range of what had happened at Malfoy Manor. And since he had nevertheless convincingly pled in favor of her and as someone, who had endured Voldemort's torture to some extent too, she subconsciously believed him to be on her side, and even more so, to acknowledge her sacrifice for the greater good with refraining from sarcasm and hostility.

From another, and probably also his, perspective one might argue that she hadn't really done anything apart from whorishly offering herself to the enemy, not dying and accidentally getting a young man killed. Admittedly, there was a lot weight in everything she hadn't really done.

.o.O.o.

Their tense togetherness was interrupted by post owls, which arrived two hours later than usually. Christmas was after all a holiday of cards and parcels, which kept the poor creatures beyond busy.

If ever an owl was able to look snarky, it was the big one, which unceremoniously dropped a throng of nicely wrapped parcels on the stone floor between Hermione and the huge Christmas tree. Severus raised his eyebrow at that while absently unfolding a Daily Prophet, which arrived for the staff.

While wishing for Merlin to have mercy and let Severus not comment on her probable value to the sender with presents thrown in front of her feet, Hermione busied herself to school her expression to nonchalance at the sight of the too familiar gifts. No need to count, all eight of them were back – again. Although having expected it, it was hard to hold back her tears that now forcefully wanted to fall. Time to leave, she thought to herself, before he would get more ammo for mocking her. This Christmas seemed to be turning into a nightmare-like challenge – sadly her competitive abilities were at best insufficient.

A sudden urge to leave overwhelmed Hermione and just as she was about to get up, Severus snorted.

"Goodness, Granger, there are actually two of you! What fresh hell is this?" he spat bluntly.

"Pardon?" she starred at him, immediately distracted.

Instead of answering he simply turned the newspaper around so she was face to face with an obviously very happy family: A man and a woman in their forties, in a park with a bushy-haired girl between them, cozily pushing herself up the man, supposedly her father, smiling widely. As they all were in fact.

Trying to school her face to blankness in the eye of that hurtful sight, she glanced into the half hidden face of her professor, who seemed to have caught her weak second, well seconds more likely, in which the storming turmoil of her true feelings must have shown. Once again he raised his signature eyebrow asking nonverbally for an explanation.

Tired of the whole teacher-student-question-answer power play and the emotional explosiveness of the topic itself, she couldn't bother to answer anything not directly asked for. This now certainly was her personal Christmas nightmare and although knowing better she silently prayed to whatever Gods may be looking down on her, to make him leave the topic be.

Since experience from the past eight years made her guess that he very likely was uninterested in her emotions concerning this discovery, it left her with the hope that she was able to come relatively unscathed out of this situation if she didn't refuse to answer, but managed to school her emotions and focused on sharing the mere facts followed by leaving as fast as possible.

"Uh," she said in a voice which hopefully didn't betray her emotions.

"Only one question, verbalized in a single word and followed by another single sound from the otherwise compulsively-thoughts-on-no-ends-sharing-know-it-all. It really is Christmas!"

"Ah-," was as far as she came being completely taken aback by his mocking before he interrupted her.

"Honestly, Miss Granger, holiday break or not, I expect you to come up with something more elaborate when answering me. At least try to form a sentence. Do feel encouraged by the ones that you've already managed today," he growled in a low voice.

"I trust I could, but you didn't ask a question answerable with facts, sir." she answered, forcing her voice to stay calm and matter-of-factly now that they had indeed returned to that sensitive question-answering topic and he seemed even nastier than before. It was not unlikely that she might nevertheless have put his reason over the edge with her answer, since he obviously despised the fact of her presence and this fact alone put her at disadvantage with him. And he had already demonstrated that neither Christmas nor her being of age and a former ally would stop him from using his power over her. Suddenly, Hermione very shortly contemplated being outright disrespectful in order to shift his attention since actually having to talk about the issue at hand seemed worse than whatever punishment he would probably come up with. But he crossed her line of thoughts beforehand.

"Keen to make it fifty points and a full week of detentions, are you?" he threatened and Hermione bit her lip.

"So, Miss Granger, we both know Minerva wouldn't have missed a chance to remind me that there very likely still is a clone of our domestic insufferable-know-it-all waiting in line to torture me in class after you've left. Why is it, I wonder, she hadn't mentioned it? Maybe, because she didn't know- or rather doesn't know about her. How come, Miss Granger, after all those years? Obviously, that girl is not exactly a toddler anymore. Do enlighten me!"

Hermione took a deep breath, refrained from falling for the Minerva-mocking trap and only focused on the facts.

"Nobody knows, because there is no such thing to know, since I don't have a sister. The girl turns ten in May and no, I don't think she is a witch and will come here to haunt you," Hermione answered as nonchalantly as possible and congratulated herself for this while recognizing that her increasingly fraying emotional status won't allow her to pull herself together for much longer, especially not when he intended to pursue this topic any further. She really didn't fancy the idea of crying in front of him. First of all, since he would have no empathy whatsoever and probably even mock her and second of all, he would be ever so pleased to use whatever breakdown she has for emotional blackmail in class or in detention, come the time.

"As little as I think of the dunderheads writing for this rag regarding their ability for getting a story completely right from A to Z, I do give them credit to get the part of 'daughter to Drs. Granger, also parents to the famous Golden-Trio member Hermione Granger' right, especially in the cover story. Keep enlightening me, Miss Granger," he sneered, obviously growing increasingly impatient.

Taking another deep breath in a try to calm herself down about his attitude since he knew about her parent's disinterest in her and also to brace herself for what she was going to say out loud now. She had spoken about it before, but it still hurt beyond belief and even more so when it was sure that the reaction would be either bad or worse. And her current overall state was not one that enabled her to walk away even pretending to be unscathed, whatever his reaction. She was thin-skinned, very much so, she knew that she was close to being put over the edge – the edge to either insanity or decisively going beyond the veil.

"I didn't say their statement was wrong. She is their daughter, not my sister though. They adopted her some time ago, one and a half years I think, while they were in hide and I must admit-"

Severus interrupted her and sneered, "My, my, Miss Granger, after everything you endured and witnessed, I had believed you the last person to be restrained when it comes to accepting relations based on a lack of blood resemblance. That's somewhat shocking and more than disappointing."

'You endured...' it echoed inside her. 'Endured...' At the realization that he really had the gall to refer to that in such a conversational manner and to even use it as an argument to downright criticize her for assumed bigotry, she had to blink back tears and kept holding her breath during his interruption, trying not to interrupt him in turn since this would just make things worse for her. Once he had finished, Hermione simply continued her statement.

"-and I must admit that it is quite interesting that they chose a girl resembling their real daughter, who they didn't even remember by that time, since she had recognized her own position in the whole war plot and Obliviated them to ensure they wouldn't become a target for the megalomaniac, who was beyond enthusiastic to kill all mudblood witches and wizards, thus also their daughter. And when it was all over and she was able to leave the hospital, she brought them back and restored their memory. After some time and a number of, ahem say, unpleasant encounters, they disowned her, well-," she stopped short, recognizing that she talked about herself in third person "well, they disowned me-, officially. I daresay you got the impression in the infirmary in October. So I'd say, since the girl certainly is their daughter, while I am not anymore, I feel comfortable not considering us sisters and also considering your credit to the authors of the Prophet rushed."

With tightened fists she simply stood there watching him. Severus, however, looked slightly taken aback and seemed to be lost for words. Although he had witnessed her talk with Poppy in the infirmary in October, he very obviously hadn't seen that one coming, she observed, but honestly, whoever would? The story was kind of grotesque even when measured by the topics of below-mainstream TV-shows. Had the Muggle world knowledge of the wizarding one, she could have gone show-hopping and get some money out of this bizarre misery. Focus, Granger!

"Lucky me then- it really is Christmas," the impossible man sneered with a stare that held no sympathy, but seemed to be expecting something.

Hermione held his gaze, though unable to stop her consternation and pain from showing, wishing she could be mad at him instead and less defeated. Unwillingly remembering their friendly past and the careful gentleness of her retrieval left Hermione half-waiting for him to add something less Snapeish, but then he wasn't only not one for merry, but very likely also not for Christmassy empathic decency either.

Eyes still locked with his challenging ones, she felt herself retreat inwardly and then heard herself emphatically call "Winky!"

The house-elf plopped in next to Hermione, between the table and the carelessly piled presents on the stone floor. Only then, determined not to waste any more energy on him at all, she turned away from Severus, to the elf, dressed in a green-golden kitchen towel.

"Merry Christmas Miss," she greeted and immediately added "Why is Miss' presents again back- thrown on floor?"

Hermione returned her the wish and smiled at the festive towel, but then she gazed at said pile in defeat, absently quoting "Same procedure as every year". Shrugging herself, she added "Winky, I need your help. Could you bring the presents anonymously to people in Hogsmeade, who might like them?"

"But no, they're for Miss's friends and family," the elf objected, eyes wide in disbelief.

"It's getting ridiculous and nerves at both ends are strained by their recurrent presence-. They say all good things come in threes, so this ends now. Maybe they make someone else happy."

While explaining this, Hermione summoned the eight presents, took her breakfast knife and one after one was freed from its name tag and, all but one, were put neatly back on the floor again.

"Do you think you could find them a home?" she asked the elf, who looked close to tears now.

"Winky thinks it's not right of them," the elf tried again.

"I appreciate your sympathy, but it's their right not to accept presents. It`s been a bit rude anyway to repetitively send them. So, do you think we can bring them to someone else?" The snorting of Severus was just a background noise to her now.

"Winky will help Miss."

"I thank you so much. Could I ask one last favor of you?"

Winky nodded excitedly.

"Would you ask Dobby if he was willing to talk to me very shortly? It's about this present for Harry."

"Winky will try, Miss." And off she plopped with seven presents in tow and Hermione smiled slightly to herself.

Turning around again to finish her tea and deliberately not even glancing at Severus directly, who obviously indulged himself in a croissant and in overhearing her conversation.

Dobby arrived within an instant and startled her. To be honest, she hadn't expected him to show up at all and although he hadn't talked or listened yet, she was pleased to finally see him again and in such good condition as well. He wore a very festive green Weasley Christmas jumper with a big golden D in the middle, surrounded by red Christmas baubles. Elves seemed to be keen on the holiday she mused.

"Thank you for coming and merry Christmas to you, Dobby," she greeted the free elf.

"Dobby wishes Miss a merry Christmas, too. Dobby is not sure about talking to Miss. Dobby is very loyal to Harry Potter."

"I know and I don't want to infringe. I simply wanted to offer you something. Taking the eighth present into her hands, she started "I tried to give this present to Harry on three occasions now, but he'd always refused it. I trust he could make very good use of it when having finished his apprenticeship and I'd gladly offer for you to take it and give it to him for his 20th birthday in summer." Suddenly nervous for no apparent reason, she added, "Ahem, you'd want to rewrap it of course, well, you see."

The elf tilted his head and watched her wide-eyed.

"Dobby isn't sure, Miss- if this is loyal to Harry Potter."

"He'll never know I obtained it in the first place. I'll tell you all about it if you want to."

"Dobby thinks Miss is very generous, but Harry Potter is no longer a friend of Miss Hermione."

Hearing this so matter-of-factly made her eyes suddenly brim with tears, but she managed to stop them from falling. She still considered herself his friend. In fact, there still wasn't a lot she wouldn't do for him should a situation ever ask for it, despite knowing that this loyalty wouldn't be returned.

"It's totally up to you, Dobby. It was an idea that came up spontaneously. I don't intend to make you do something you're uncomfortable with. How about I leave it by the tree until tomorrow morning and if it's not taken by then, I'll take care of it, okay?" she offered.

"Thank you. Dobby had always liked Miss. Merry Christmas," he bid her goodbye and popped off before she could return his wish.

She left the present under the tree giving it a last sad glance. That stupid thing didn't deserve being refused just due to a very vague connection to her. Honestly, it wasn't as if it had her genes she thought bitterly. Time to get a grip again, her mind started babbling. She needed someone to talk to or she would probably go insane, and rather sooner than later by the feel of it. Breathing in the resinous smell of the tree while hunkering in front of it she faintly wondered how long it would still take until she would have allowed them to make her embrace madness as sanctuary from reality.

Thinking about insanity: She turned around, closed the distance to her chair again to grab its back before addressing her professor, who at least pretended to be absorbed in his newspaper.

"Since it is far from me to force my presence on you and disturb your much cherished and undoubtedly deserved solitude, let me inform you that I plan to have breakfast at 9.30 am, skip lunch every day and have dinner at 6.30 pm for about half an hour, so you know when to better avoid the Great Hall should you not wish to stumble upon me. Have a mer- have a Christmas, sir!" she stated firmly, then swirled around and made to leave the Hall in a firm pace as long as her body allowed her to.

"Miss Granger," he growled pervading and she stopped, without turning around to him as he continued with a dangerous growl, "I don't know where in Merlin's name you got the impression from that I have my schedule dictated by students, but rest assured I'm not in the habit to do so."

Hermione was glad to nearly have made it to the doors. It was time to get out of here otherwise he would witness her panic attack in all its glory and she felt it coming forcefully. It was going to be an intense one.

Only turning around slightly, Hermione answered, "I'm certainly not trying to dictate anything to anyone, least not you, sir! I merely informed you about my mealtimes. I did not disinvite you. And while I would generally enjoy company at least twice a day during meals, I gathered from breakfast that you don't- at least not mine. And since it's your holidays too after all, I thought to ease your daily planning with regard to avoidance of unwanted contact..., sir."

Breathless, panic attack forcefully approaching now, she flicked the doors open and without waiting for Severus to comment again, stormed through, flicked them immediately shut after herself and suddenly only managed to stumble into an alcove between the door and a column. She sank to her knees and crawled completely out of sight, while only breathing shallowly, she felt sweat running down her body, the hair in her neck was damp already. It took some effort to cast a Muffliato, but she managed it before giving in to the tremble caused by the anxiety. When the agony of her Cutting Curse scars and the cramps that resulted from the Crucio torture took a grip on her, she willed herself to embrace the pain and give in to it, for she knew fighting would only prolong the duration. Weeping only for herself to witness, Hermione hoped that it would be over before dinner and that she wouldn't be found by either Severus or a house elf before. Well, rather the latter since the dark man surely would not bother about her whereabouts.