The full moons silvery light shone and shimmered like glitter above her, casting out eerie shadows all around. She sat on the shore of the Great Lake, the sound of silence was almost deafening to her. Knee's tucked up to her chest hugging them as if her life depended on the comfort she was giving herself. A tear rolled down her soft white skin followed in hot pursuit by another and another before a river of tears and heavy sobs followed.

Hermione Granger was in her last year at Hogwarts, opting to come back after the war. She had no one, her family now located in Australia had not even a whisper of an idea about her and her best friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley stopped returning her letters and stopped visiting her, it was almost as if they had erased her from their lives without even a backwards glance. Out of sight, out of mine, she guessed.

Never had she felt so alone and isolated and it broke her heart. She needed someone to talk to so badly, to talk of the war, the stress and the nightmares that overcome her every night, she needed someone who could relate to her and all of the horrors she had to endure, the terrible things she had seen and the even more terrible things she had partaken in.

The torture she endured and the pain she had felt during the time that she had pushed down deep within her was now beginning to rear its ugly head. She was strong, but this was slowly breaking her down, grinding her down into nothing but a shell of the otherwise outgoing, intelligent and empathetic woman she knew she was meant to be. She hated the fact she was no longer the same person she used to be, she was changing- for the worst, and she hated it.

She had taken to sitting by the great lake at night; diary and quill in hand to write down her troubles, worries and fears. She figured if she could at least release some of what was inside of her and get it off her chest it might make her feel better; it didn't. If anything it made resent herself and the situation she was in even more, but nonetheless, she kept pushing and writing. Each entry dated, the pages tear-stained and ink runs adorned the pages along with her deepest, darkest fears and regrets.

The diary now sitting next to her as she sobbed heavily, something she did every night, it had become a ritual to her. Write in the diary, fill herself with self-loathing and hate and then cry until the sun began to creep over the horizon, put on a smile and begin the day like nothing had happened.

Minerva had suggested she get help, seek a councillor but she was too proud for help. She was Hermione Granger, people looked up to her for her role in the war, what would they think if they found out she was so broken and so lonely that she had to seek help. She wanted to appear strong; she did appear strong, all the while dying more and more inside.

She didn't want sympathy, she just wanted a friend, someone to talk to and connect with. She knew a councillor would have no idea what she felt and what she was going through.

The sound of a twig snapping to her far left roused her from her thoughts, footsteps began to grow closer. Her sobs stopped instantly as she strained her hearing trying to work out who, or what was coming. Biting her bottom lip nervously the footsteps grew closer, she stopped breathing in a hope they wouldn't see her there.

She could see someone in the shadowy moonlight getting closer to her, they walked at a fast past, they hadn't seen her yet and she hoped it would stay that way as she tried to press herself into an even smaller ball to go undetected; it didn't work. He stopped ten meters out from her his eyes meeting her own. His face contorting into a sneer. He walked closer, she knew it was him, she saw it was Professor Snape. His robes trailing behind him as he walked the last few meters to her, standing over her he looked down.

"Please tell me, Miss Granger, why are you out of bed?" His arms folded tightly across his chest, waiting for her to explain. Ever since she had fought in the war, her attitude was deplorable. She thought she could push boundaries and get away with what she liked. She thought she was above the rules and that they didn't apply to her. She was sorely mistaken.

She looked up at him, tears glinting when the moonlight hit them. It was at the moment he realized she had been crying and maybe, for just one fleeting moment he felt some compassion towards the girl. His harsh gaze left and he knelt next to her.

He wasn't really the type to comfort anyone, it was foreign to him and Merlin knew since the war since he almost died he was even harder and sarcastic than he had ever been. His tongue even sharper and more hurtful than before, but something stirred deep down in him when he saw the crying girl.

She wiped the tears away with the palms of her hands and tried to put on her strong façade but he couldn't be fooled, he had already seen her in her moment of weakness.

"Are you ok Miss Granger?" He looked at her cocking his head to the side.
"I'm fine." She forced a smile.
"I think you are lying, Miss Granger. Sitting here at midnight on your own crying does not constitute as being fine in my book."
"Honestly I am fine. Just… I don't know. It doesn't matter. I just couldn't sleep." She finished with a shrug.

A single brow raised made her believe that deep down; he didn't believe her for even one second.

"Do you always sit here and sob when you cannot sleep?" His long hair falling in his face.
The truth was, he was out here because he couldn't sleep either, and his mind was running ten miles a minute. On the outside he was coping but deep, deep down he felt hopeless, he felt broken and most of all, he felt confused. The war had left him with deep scars both mentally and physically. He had almost died but she had saved him, he owed his life to her. But he had a deep-seated hate not for her, but for what she had done, for saving him. He had so much pain and anger that most days he wished himself dead so he didn't have to carry on with the hurt and pain and the guilt of all the innocent blood he had spilt. All of the innocent people who lost their lives at his hand directly and indirectly.

"I suggest you get back to your dorm." He pulled himself up to full height brushing off his robes. She obliged, getting to her feet he watched as she walked away, becoming nothing more than a distant shadow.

He went to move away when he saw something on the ground that caught his eye. A leather-bound book and a simple feathered quill sat where she had just moments ago.

Reaching down he grabbed the cold leather of the book and looked it over Emblazed on the cover was her name in gilded gold, 'Hermione Granger.'

He opened the book to have a look. He realized it must be her diary or a journal by the date on the page. The page was tear stained and smudged, he flicked through the first few pages and saw they were all like that.

He flipped back to the front page; in large letters, she has scribbled

I hate my life

He tilted his head to the side his interest had piqued. He had always thought of the girl as happy and well adjusted with good friends. How could she possibly hate her life?

I hate myself

He read the next line. Perhaps she and he had more in common than he first thought.

I have no friends

You and me both, he thought to himself.
He snapped the book shut with a soft thud. He didn't want to keep reading. It was obviously very private to her and he shouldn't pry. He was quite surprised the girl had written such negative things about herself. Maybe, just maybe, he would go a little easier on her from now on.

He pocketed the book and the quill and left for the castle. He would try to get some sleep. Even dreamless sleep potions were having less and less effect on him as she became more and more dependent on them to get him through the night. He was tired and he was bitter, he had no friends, he hated himself and he hated his life. Perhaps he and Hermione weren't so different after all.

A/N: I just had to write this. I feel after the war not everything would be rainbows and unicorns and they would have PTSD. I hope you like this chapter.

Thank you

Aliasmel1