*I do not own the characters or original content of either series. The Potterverse is owned by the wonderful JK Rowling, and Angel is owned by Joss Whedon and Fox. I merely take their creations out for a vacation every once and a while.*

In the days after the defeat of the Dark Lord, the entire wizarding world celebrated. Even the grounds of Hogwarts saw dozens of impromptu bonfires, hundreds of elf supplied drinks, and current students with alumni reveling day and night. There was little chastisement to be had by staff or parents for the younger fighters, and only serious breach of etiquette came at a price. Everyone was ready for the end of their time of fear and pain, and determined to enjoy themselves the best way they knew how.

Everyone but one lone witch.

Hermione wandered through the castle halls, taking in one joyous face after the other. When it became too much, she trailed off onto the grounds. The light from the bonfires was enough for her to see by, but not enough for anyone to notice her presence. No one did.

After the death of Voldemort, and the apprehension of the remaining Death Eaters by the Aurors, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had found each other in the wreckage and the crowds. After reuniting, the trio climbed the stairs to the Headmasters office, where Harry told the others of the memories Severus Snape had given him, his trip into the forest, and the reunion with Dumbledore at a ghostly King's Cross Station.

Once they'd finished their tales, the three returned to the Great Hall to help tend the wounded, and prepare the fallen for their families. The Golden Trio parted at the doors, each going a different way to lend assistance.

She hadn't seen either one of them since.

'Well', she reasoned to herself. 'I've SEEN them. They just haven't seen me.'

She slid like a phantom past another fire, easily dodging a drunk Seamus as he attempted to demonstrate a particularly unlikely dueling pose. The whole thing bothered her, and she was saddened to see she was the only one. She understood the relief they felt at finally being free, she felt it too. But for her, the cost was too high.

She couldn't quite forgive them for being so raucous. People had died, good people, lain out until only the day before, a handful of steps from where they were now. Those people deserved better than this. Remus, Tonks, Fred, Colin, Lavender, Professor Snape… They should be remembered with honor. This din of drunkenness and debauchery was hardly a fitting memorial.

Coming to a stop near the entrance to the castle, shadowed by a ruined wall, she watched her two best friends with their group of devotees. Harry was firmly in the embrace of Ginny Weasley, and Ron was speaking to the crowd with Parvati on one side and Pansy Parkinson on the other. Both witches were giving each other speculative looks, and Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Ron didn't know what he was about to get himself in to. She moved on, entering the castle.

A lot of people were, no doubt, surprised that she and Ron hadn't immediately begun a torrid affair of some kind once the dust of battle settled. If they'd asked her, she could have told them that it was never going to happen. She loved her friend, but as just that- a friend. She'd been in love with someone else for far too long to even consider trying it on with Ronald. She was glad that he hadn't been hurt when she told him, though she'd left out the fact that her heart belonged to someone else. That would have led to more questions than she wanted to answer. Besides, it was unrequited, and she knew it.

For seven years, she'd watched and loved and kept the whole thing to herself. And she knew the exact moment she realized that she'd given her heart away, and could do nothing to retrieve it. It was in a terrifying room, full of flame and a puzzle. She'd reasoned her way through to the answer, and given Harry the potion to move forward through the black flames. She looked at him for what could have been the last time, and that was it. His bravery, his steadfastness, his determination combined in her eyes and her heart, and she'd fallen hard.

She was eleven years old, and had assured herself that it was just a crush. She was far too young to be in love with anyone, and she refused to be lumped in with the groupies that wanted a piece of the famous Harry Potter. She would get over it. He was her best friend, and that was that.

But it didn't go away. Over the years, as they grew closer and had to depend on each other, her feelings only got clearer. By the time they were desperately clinging to a hippogriff to save a condemned man, she knew it was love. She still fought back. When he came back to the school by portkey, clinging to Cedric Diggory's body, she burned with the need to hold him, to help console him. In the Department of Mysteries, when Dolohov's hex hit her, her only thought was that she wouldn't be around to watch his back.

By the time Ronald abandoned them during their horocrux hunt, she'd almost allowed herself a glimmer of hope that he might turn to her in loneliness. He did, but in his usual, brotherly way. She crushed that vicious gleam of possibility way down her soul, and didn't let it surface again.

The only person she'd ever spoken to of the whole mess was her attempt at dating in her fourth year. Viktor was surprisingly insightful, for as much as he gave the persona of a jock. They'd kept in touch since then, and it was nice to have at least one friend to mull it over with. Viktor had dropped not so subtle hints that Harry was a lucky wizard, to have such a witch so devoted to him, and that he would like to find someone as dedicated one day. While flattered at the implication, she managed to explain that she'd not use another friend to force away her heartache. He took it quite gracefully, but he never lost interest entirely.

Entering the castle proper, she leaned against a wall for a moment. She'd always loved this school, and hated seeing it so abused. She turned to rest her cheek on the stone behind her, for a moment feeling the inherent magic in the building touch her own inner power. She felt a bit of the sadness in her recede, Hogwarts comforting its student as it always did. She loved the school, and she hated leaving it. But it was for the best.

She moved up the stairs, and made her way to the Gryffindor common room. The boys may have forgotten about her in their celebrating, but they'd come looking eventually. At least, she hoped they would. Best to leave their letter here, where they'd spent so many evenings together. Pulling an envelope from her beaded bag, she set it on the mantel piece. For a long moment, she stood reminiscing, thinking of all the games of exploding snap that were played here, the pranks pulled by the twins, parties after Quidditch matches. Finally, she straightened her shoulders and left, quickly making her way to the dungeons.

She let herself into the potions classroom, then beyond, into Professor Snape's private brewing room. She doubted that Slughorn even knew it existed. Professor Snape had been a deeply private man, and she'd been lucky that he'd allowed her access in her time as a student.

During her fifth year, she'd pooled every last bit of Gryffindor courage she had, and had approached the Potions master. While she was notorious for being the top in all her classes, Potions was where her passion really was, and she wanted to explore the opportunity afforded her. She knew the Professor was a world renowned brewer, and with him in the castle with her, she grabbed whatever chance she had to receive tuition from him.

It took all of her nerve, and almost a month to wear him down. He did not want to give her additional brewing time, absolutely refused to spend more than class time in her company, and would not allow her in his laboratory. Finally, after a pointed reminder that she'd successfully brewed, if not applied, Polyjuice in her second year, he gave in to her tactics.

"I would not wish to see what you would come up with if left to your own devices. I will, however, be sure to have the prefects check the first floor bathrooms for unsanctioned potions."

She'd spent the next two years working with him, and while she would not call them friends, she at least thought they had the beginning of a friendship that could continue once she was no longer a student. His seeming betrayal at the end of her sixth year cut her deeply. She couldn't speak of him around anyone without provoking a round of 'Snape bashing', but she always had an uneasy feeling that they were missing something. She'd spent too much time around the man, seen how haggard he'd gotten after every meeting with the Death Eaters, to believe he had really turned on Dumbledore.

Wandering to his tidy desk, she sat down, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

"Oh, Professor," she spoke to the darkness, "We all misjudged you so badly. And you were here, alone, knowing we all thought the worst. I'm so sorry. I knew something wasn't right, I should have figured it out. You deserved so much better than you received.

"We've more in common than you knew, too. I'm in love with my best friend, Lily Evans' son, and he'll never look at me the way I want him to. The way you wanted his mother to look at you. I wish you had survived. Well, for more than one reason, of course. But we could have commiserated our bad luck together, here in the dungeons, brewing and calling the rest of the world a bunch of dunderheads. Out there, the world keeps on turning, they're all drinking and shagging and acting like it hasn't all changed. And all I want to do is hide down here, bottling fame and brewing glory."

She sat up and opened her eyes, looking around the familiar room. She'd likely never see it again. Glancing down at the desk, she found a large envelope with her name written on the front. With a frown, she picked it up and opened it. A large stack of papers came out, along with a smaller envelope.

Reading the top sheet of paper, her eyes went wide. It was an application to the Ministry on her behalf. There was extensive documentation of the time she'd spent in her private lessons, as well as a listing of the research and experimental potions she'd worked on. It listed her hours as being numerous enough to be qualified as an apprenticeship, and if she created and defended a thesis, she would have met the requirements to be awarded the title of Potions Mistress.

She set the bundle down with shaking hands, and picked up the smaller envelope. Like the other, it had her name on it. Unlike the first envelope, though, this one had handwriting she recognized on the front. This was from Professor Snape himself. She broke the wax seal on the back, and drew out a sheet of parchment.

Miss Granger-

If you have found this, then I expect the final days of the war have come. I also must assume that Mister Potter was successful in defeating the Dark Lord, and our side has won. I do say our side, Miss Granger, for I hope you have learned by now that I never turned back to the dark once I'd escaped it.

I must expect, also, that I did not survive the falling of He Who Must Not Be Named. These pages would not be here for you to find otherwise. I have always anticipated this, so do not grieve on my account.

I have never been good company, and I applaud you for being so firm in your desire to further your career that you would brave the Bat of the dungeons. Included for you are copies of all your work, and the proper paperwork for your apprenticeship. You have earned it.

Praise does not come easily from me, so I will do as I can. Your capacity as a Potioneer far surpasses any brewer of your age, and has even exceeded many of my contemporaries. For me to refuse to acknowledge your ability would be remiss. I have made many mistakes in my life, and I will not make that last one in death.

In these last few years, there were very few that would care to be in my presence, let alone seek it out willingly. I'd like to think that towards the end, we developed an accord. In time, I would like to think we could have even been friends. As such, I ask one thing of you. Dead men have little to do with the living, but I ask none the less.

Pursue your education. In time, you could become a legendary Mistress. You have all the tools you need. Do not throw them aside to become the next Molly Weasley. Be the amazon you can be, and shine as brightly for as long as you can. Be the legacy that I could never be. For me. For the betterment of the future. But most of all, for yourself. It is my last wish.

Your friend-

Severus Snape, Potions Master

She was openly weeping by the time she finished reading the missive. "Oh, Severus. I think, in spite of everything, that you may have truly been my best friend for the last two years. I'm so sorry I'll never get a chance to tell you. I'll miss you, my friend."

Standing, she wiped the tears from her face and collected all the papers back into the large envelope. "And you don't know me quite as well as you thought. I'm hardly going to throw away my work so easily. What you've asked of me is exactly what I'd planned anyway. So your wish is fulfilled. I'll do the best I can, work the hardest I can force from myself, and when asked why, it'll be because of my good friend, the Great War hero Severus Snape. I won't let them forget you."

She tucked the envelope into her bag and travelled around the room, picking up items to add here and there. There was her favorite stirring rod. On the wall was the cauldron she and Snape had fought over on many occasions, the one that had been both their favorites. A couple of books with thorough notes scrawled into the margins in his handwriting. Finally, with watery eyes, she left, re-warding the secret lab and making her way out of the dungeon.

Quickly walking to the seventh floor, she paced in front of a blank wall until the room of requirement appeared. It looked as it had days earlier, when she and the boys had made it back to the castle. Opening the portrait of Ariana, she found that the room had said its own goodbye to her, with one final gift. Just inside the tunnel leading to the Hog's Head, she found the Half Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion Making.

She leaned her head on the doorframe, whispering "Thank you," to the castle. Then she straightened, and made her way down the tunnel. The portrait closed quietly behind her.

It wasn't Harry or Ron that found her letter. They didn't notice she'd gone until the first official Ministry event that she failed to appear for. She had already been out of the country for a week. When they began asking around after her, they were approached by a subdued Neville Longbottom, who offered them the letter he'd retrieved from the common room.

Dear Harry and Ronald-

Please forgive me for not telling you I was leaving. I was afraid you would try to talk me out of it. The grief over the end of the war is too much for me to be celebrating with the rest of you, and I have to get out.

I'm going to Australia to try to retrieve my parents. After that, I'm planning on travelling. I can't be in wizarding England right now, I just can't. But I've always wanted to travel, to learn from other countries and cultures. With us all being at loose ends right now, it seemed the best time.

I'm sure any post that you send will get to me eventually, and I'll write you as time allows. Enjoy the peace time as much as possible. I'm sure it'll be strange after the last few years!

Love-

Hermione

They would not see her again for five years.