I refuse to give you much commentary of any kind before the story. All I will say is that I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with Harry Potter. `Talon.

Desolate. She felt desolate. Lost. Alone. Which was ridiculous. All her friends awaited her in the common room. Maybe it was because she was female. Harry and Ron didn't have her point of view. They didn't have the maternal instincts of females…

The war against Voldemort was drawing to a climax. Half the Hogwarts staff had left after the winter holidays to help the Ministry. Dumbledore would not leave. McGonagall would not leave his side. But Flitwick was gone. So were Sinistra, Sprout, Hagrid, as strange as that may seem, and Snape.

Snape…

School days were not the same. Classrooms were so empty. She missed her professors. Half the light of Hogwarts had left. A quick intake of breath--they may not return.

But Hermione couldn't think of that. She must not. It was too…depressing? Why should she care? she figured. The changing of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors had hardened everyone against just this.

No matter. The emptiness of the school and classrooms haunted her everyday. And wouldn't leave. During the days she studied extra hard. She had to; she couldn't during nights. Her nights were taken up by wandering the halls. It was like she was looking for something. Maybe for the cause of all the emptiness, and when she found it, she would kill it and everything would be back to normal.

Her thoughts seemed to jump in her head-- those were definitely no longer organized. What bothered her most, if she were honest, was the Potions room. It was colder without Snape. Which would be funny to every other student. They would laugh outright at her without any regard for her feelings. It wasn't funny to her.

Over the years, they'd grown to expect the Potions Master's sarcastic jeers and cutting remarks while they labored over steaming cauldrons. The substitute gave them an assignment and sat back at the desk. She guessed they were watching for any sign of a lethal concoction, but they weren't doing much more than that.

The high windows in the hall filtered the moonlight. It made pretty patterns on the stone. Even the moon was cold. The light was cold. Absentmindedly she touched the window. That was cold too.

A burst of wind sounded over the rolling lawn. Hermione' s head snapped back to the hallway. In front of her a tall man walked briskly over the stones. His heels sounded smartly against the floor. In a swirl of black cloak and flash of lank hair, he was gone. As quickly as he'd come. Fog seemed to clog her brain.

Her legs couldn't support her weight. She slid down the rough wall. There'd be scratches in the morning. Her knees came into her chest, her head to her knees. So lost….and cold…

The Potions room.

The sub.

No cutting remarks.

No black eyes.

Or terrifying gazes.

Vanilla scent, however faint.

Air of anticipation.

Drive to prove her worth.

Without him, she was nothing because she was something. She was always something to everyone. And so she was nothing but what they thought of her. But around him, she was worth more because he didn't stereotype.

Well he did.

But not like them.

The tears wouldn't halt in their course down her cheeks.

He wouldn't be thinking of her. Why would she of him? How stupid.

Hermione, you're stupid. Get up. What a Gryffindor you are. She rose slowly. Her back stung when her robes brushed against it. Oh well. She deserved it for such ludicrous thoughts. Her hand took away the tears from her face. The moon shone brightly on her pale visage. She was stronger than this!

She wouldn't be reduced to a sniveling ball at memories of being yelled at!

Her feet began to move again. Past the windows, down stairs, more halls, more stairs. Through doors. Her step echoed about her.

Coming out of her thoughts, she found herself in the Great Hall. The tables were gone. The candles that burned in the air had went with them. Light shone down onto the polished floor like silver sickles from the starry heavens above. The enchanted ceiling was in its glory tonight.

Out of habit her eyes went to where the staff table would be.

He stared back at her.

Severus…

She didn't know when any of them would come back. Maybe she was distraught because they'd become like family to her in a world so foreign. She'd known no one. No one expected anything, except him. He was one of the strictest, but his opinion of you would not show. With the exception of contempt. She'd often felt the barb of that wire.

Hinges creaked. A door slammed. And she left the hall with its shimmering sky.

Taking a right, she continued her procession through the castle. All her nights were the same. Aimless wandering with only her thoughts for company. Every night too, nothing changed. When she went back to the common room, back to bed, the rooms were still empty, the castle still cold. Parts of her family remained missing. Part of her heart had gone with them.

There were places she'd not searched yet. Unwittingly her feet took her there.

She did not shiver when the air got colder. She was descending. Farther and farther. The path was not unfamiliar. She stopped at the hard wooden door. It would be easy to open. The substitute did not put on the wards that he did.

In three flicks of her wand, the door unlocked. She pushed. It opened.

Her first sight of was the perpetually dark fireplace. It was never lit. It would be odd now if it were. Rows upon rows of tables made neat columns. One bench to a table. At the front sat a lone desk, larger than its table-like counterparts. She went to it. They could be alone together. She wondered vaguely if it missed him also.

She wouldn't sit in the chair. She had more respect than that. But each item on the surface met her fingertips. She brought a quill to her nose. A smile touched her lips. It smelled of vanilla too.

Her head began to swirl. Somewhere in her mind she chided herself for being so fanciful. He was a teacher; she was a student. She could always blame the feelings on the war, but deep inside her, at the core of what Hermione was, she knew everything was true.

If she thought back to this moment, she wouldn't know how she discovered the door in the dark, when she'd never noticed it when the room was lit by numerous torches. However it happened isn't what is important. Simply that it did. Deftly, her fingers found a large metal hinge. It was warmer than the room.

How odd.

Her hands went from the hinge to the handle. It would be locked, of course.

She put her weight against it. Slowly, ever so slowly, the large stone barrier slid in. Hermione slipped through after a foot was gained.

Every sense she possessed swam. Vanilla. Sandalwood. She walked farther in and fell to her knees. On the way down her ribs collided with something soft. Velvet.

"Lumos." The only word spoken tonight.

The tip of her wand glowed warmly.

Oh my Lord in…

She leaned forward on her knees, and hit against a bed covered in dark green velvet. She would have called it black, but the light reflected just so…

Pillows to her right. Black. Satin. Frizzy hair whipped her face as she took in everything. Black jacquard canopy. Holly-wood book shelves housed at least three hundred tomes. A black leather chaise on the other side of the room caught her fancy. It was enchanting…exotic. Finally, in the far corner was a large cauldron and cabinets that held countless ingredients.

His room. No doubt.

A warmth like honey and tea began to seep into her bones. Her senses stilled. She felt humbled--to be in his place. It was so private; she shouldn't be here. Oh, but how she must.

Hermione found herself collapsed on the bed. Her body shifted to the depression in the middle. Where he must lay many, many nights. Maybe he stayed up thinking too…

Fresh tears came and soiled the fine velvet. He would wonder what had happened when he came back. He would come back now. She was certain. The Gryffindor in her was tempted to tell him of her wanderings. Her despair. And how she was able to find courage and strength again. But she couldn't. No way in all the heavens. He would expel her for entering a professor's chambers unlawfully, without permission. She's also traversed the halls past the hours of curfew, broken into his classroom…

And even if she'd been allowed to go where ever she pleased, he would never understand. Never how she felt. Esepcially how he made her feel. She must always work for his respect. She smiled against the damp material. That was one reason she was glad she wasn't a Slytheirn. They seemed to gain his automatic respect.

No…she thought, so emotionally exhausted now…deep down, they haven't. In his room, curled up on his bed, Hermione thought her Potions professor the most human wizard in the world.

Sweet slumber claimed her in the room that night. In her temporary retreat from the cold castle, empty rooms, and lonely halls, she dreamed that he knew her. And she knew him. Dreamed that they knew the other's thoughts, and he understood what was happening to her. Even if she couldn't put a finger on it yet.

*`*`*

Please forgive me if this is too choppy, or makes too little sense. I was inspired by the song, On My Own, from Les Miserables. Thus the title. And so I wrote. It was also around ten o'clock at night, and I'd only gotten 5 hours of sleep the night before.

Reviews are quite welcome--I honestly don't get many.

Keep dreaming- it keeps us young,

`Talon McGreggor

(Tara)