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Broken Dreams	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 34540 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I make no money from this story, own nothing of Harry Potter, haven't met any of the people (except Alan Rickman and sadly that was brief)

Chapter List
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A/N: THANK YOU for the reviews! They feed my slag of a muse.

Professor Snape was nothing but thorough, if not exacting. He'd led Hermione out of the school and into the forest, telling her to stay close behind him. Once they found an abundant area of fluxweed, he pointed out the choicest bits, telling her how to look for the good ones and which to avoid picking. The two hastily worked by moonlight, Hermione using her wand the few times clouds covered the glowing orb.

"Just a bit more and that should do it," Hermione said after poking her lit wand at the mouth of the sack. "I think I'll need-damn!" she swore, tripping on the edge of her robes and toppling onto the forest floor.

Severus rolled his eyes yet helped hoist Hermione back to her feet. "Was my tutelage less than stellar, Miss Granger? Perhaps you need a lesson on using your feet."

"Oh, sod off," she snapped, wincing when she felt little twinges. "I should have worn trousers to come out here, although it wasn't as if I'd planned this little excursion."

"I think it best if you just stand in place for a while," Severus told her, stooping back down. "I'm nearly done and I don't need you falling on me this time."

Hermione grew slightly huffy but did as she was told. The professor was making fast work of gathering of the fluxweed, briefly glancing at each piece he deemed suitable before storing it in the sack. Hermione grew entranced, watching his long, nimble fingers picking through the patch.

"Professor?"

Hermione waited for Severus to acknowledge her, but he never spoke or moved from his place, his hands still moving back and forth between the plant and the sack.

"Professor, are there really things out here that we need to be heedful of?"

"Only a fool would presume that danger is never present," he finally without looking up.

"Well, I know it's a full moon, but I didn't think there would be werewolves around."

"Of course you didn't think about that," Severus continued. "The centaurs try to make sure they steer clear of Hogwarts, but one can never be too careful."

"I guess you prove a good point," Hermione conceded, her amber eyes still focused on his hands. "Is that why Professor Lupin left? I never thought he'd be a danger to anyone."

"Always the trusting little Gryffindor, aren't you?" he muttered wryly. "Werewolves are unable to control their emotions once they've made the change. They'd tear anyone apart. Remember when you nearly became Lupin's cuddly toy?"

"Well, I didn't think he would attack me," she answered dejectedly.

Severus merely grunted in reply, his eyes still focused downwards.

"I expect its tiring always running to everyone's rescue."

"Indeed it is, Miss Granger. My heroic days are finished." Severus then rose to his full height, walking over to the young witch. "This should be more than enough," he told her, grasping the bulging sack in his left hand. "Come along. Your hand is bleeding."

"It is?" Hermione asked dumbly. "I don't feel anything, and I didn't notice any blood."

"Your olfactory must be off; I can smell it on you," Severus replied indifferently.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, attempting to look at both hands but unable to see anything. Without touching her, Severus led the way back across the darkened school grounds and into the castle.

Any lingering prefects and professors performing nightly patrols had already gone to bed. The corridors were dimly lit, and Hermione was still unable to view her injuries.

Severus' momentum suddenly halted, and Hermione had to stop short to avoid bumping into his back. After giving the gargoyle his password, the two stepped forward and were in his office. He kept walking until they were in a small sitting room.

"Sit," he brusquely told Hermione as he placed the sack on a side table.

Hermione took her place on an overstuffed, blue upholstered sofa. She moved to bring her hands up to her face but was sidetracked when she caught a glimpse of Severus.

He was clad in his proverbial black suit, but for the first time she noticed that he'd removed his cravat and unfastened the first two buttons on his frock coat. She was shocked, seeing the small sliver of pale skin beneath the stiff, black fabric. It was nearly akin to the wizard standing completely disrobed before her.

Hermione watched as the professor bustled around, tapping his wand at a dark brown teapot sitting across from her. He then pulled a chair across from her and sat down, taking her hands into his.

"Oh my goodness," Hermione gasped, finally seeing the deep gashes across both palms. "I wonder why I didn't feel that."

"Maybe it's the effects from the multiple goblets of wine at dinner," he suggested indifferently as he examined her wounds.

"Thanks to you, I've only been able to indulge in one at a time," she grumbled.

"You're of age, Miss Granger. You can drink till you find yourself kipping beneath the dining table if you so wish."

"Your mouth says that now, but your eyes are nearly shouting at me in the great hall when I reach for the carafe!"

"Be quiet, you little shrew. I was merely trying to make sure that you didn't become dependent on spirits."

"I'm not a bloody alky," Hermione grumbled, trying to snatch her hands out of Severus' only for him to tighten his grasp and keep them in place.

"It doesn't appear that you fell on anything poisonous," he told her. "But those will need to be cleaned and treated. You never know what nasty things are lurking about in the Forbidden Forest."

Severus brandished his wand at Hermione's right hand, a stream of water gushing from the tip and cascading over the bloody gash. Once he deemed it clean enough, a tub of salve was Accio'd and rubbed into the angry looking cut.

"Ow," Hermione hissed as the dull yellow ointment stung when it came in contact with the open wound. After a minute, the edges of the gash began healing, her skin knitting itself closed. Severus made short work of the right hand, ignoring the slight protests from the young witch when he applied the healing salve.

"You're worse than a first year," he told Hermione when she glowered up at him. "Grousing over a little scratch."

"Well, it hurt!" she retorted. "I'm sorry that I'm not the 'suffer in silence' type."

"You've got that partly correct; there's nothing silent about you."

Hermione closed her eyes and swore under her breath, unknowingly clenching both hands into fists.

"Here," she heard Severus say. Looking up she saw him thrusting a teacup in her direction.

"Thank you," she replied, taking a deep whiff of the pleasant aroma. "This is chamomile, isn't it?"

Severus didn't answer; merely standing at the desk and pouring his own cup.

"This is chamomile…and something else that I can't put my finger on," she mused, taking a sip.

"Lemon balm and avena," the professor answered curtly.

"Yes, that's right."

"Miss Granger, you'll need to know your basic herbs if you wish to become a Potions Mistress."

"Believe me, after scrounging around in the forest for a year I learned more about herbs and such that I'd have ever deemed necessary," she replied distastefully, remembering the less than savory event. "I was merely thrown off for a bit. I know these three are supposed to make you feel sleepy. It would be a miracle if it works for me tonight."

"Hmm," Severus grunted in reply.

"Have you…how've you been sleeping?"

Severus still remained tight-lipped, his posture growing more rigid if it was possible.

"I haven't been able to sleep properly either," Hermione continued, intent on carrying on a conversation. "I expect it's the excitement of being back at school and-"

"Why are you so bloody chatty? Would it kill you to remain silent, even if just for a moment?"

"I'm just trying to help!" Hermione nearly wailed. "I've barely seen you all week, except for the times you glower at me over supper. Now that I notice, you don't look as if you've seen much of your bed. You look positively knackered."

"Miss Granger, I think it's time for you to return to your room," Severus told her in a clipped tone. He set his cup down and walked over, roughly taking her own cup from her hand and setting it on the side table. "There's no need for you to traipse about the poorly lit corridors. You can use the Floo to return to your chambers."

"All right," Hermione conceded numbly, standing up. She picked up her sack of fluxweed and walked over to the hearth. "Well…thank you for everything, Headmaster," she replied, finding that she was talking to his back as he'd already begun walking out of the sitting room.

Despite drinking the special blend of tea, both Severus and Hermione still had trouble getting to sleep that night.

Hermione tossed and turned in her bed, feeling terribly on edge. She wondered if she'd inadvertently cracked away a morsel of the professor's seemingly impenetrable shell. Although his disposition towards her was that of a disgruntled goblin, he'd still escorted her and assisted in her task of collecting herbs. Then he'd healed her injuries and offered her tea, even if he merely shoved the cup under her nose without so much as a word.

'It's probably my fault anyway,' Hermione told herself. She knew that she had a predisposition to be pushy, but it had just been second nature. Her overbearing personality had heightened tenfold when she became friends with Ron and Harry.

As much as she loved them, they both had a proclivity towards apathy. Ron admittedly had been worse; if it wasn't about food or Quidditch then he was unconcerned.

Harry proved to become a bit more diligent as they matured. But Ronald - it had been all she could do to not hex him within an inch of his life the year they spent hiding from Snatchers and Death Eaters while hunting Horcruxes . He whinged and nagged incessantly, to the point that even Harry wanted to kick him squarely in the seat of his trousers.

Severus, on the other hand, was another story. Hermione had the idea that no one ever considered his well-being. Despite Dumbledore being purported as the 'good' wizard, Hermione even mused that the elderly wizard used Severus as a pawn to achieve his means without a second thought.

Hermione wasn't surprised that the dark wizard became more ornery with easy passing year since she'd first laid eyes on him at the age of eleven. His visage rarely if ever showed emotion, yet she wondered if he lashed out at students as a means of catharsis.

Since she was no longer under his tutelage, Hermione thought that she would have been immune to his perpetual crotchety mood and waspish tongue. She'd been flummoxed to find that he was still able to make her quake in fear, although she'd never let him know it.

True, she'd gotten away with mouthing off to him more than once, something that would have never happened when she was a student. Still, Hermione wondered if the professor was more bluster than bite, while at the same time vowing to never attempt testing out her theory.

It was after two in the morning and Severus was still brooding in the darkness of his bedchamber. Angrily kicking the thick eiderdown away, he turned over onto his side.

Earlier that evening he'd been planning on doing what he did every Friday night; keeping quiet company with a pot of tea and a book. The trip to the castle battlements hadn't been planned, but after catching a glimpse of the clear, night sky from his window he felt compelled to see it in its entirety.

He'd been standing in the chilled air for the past thirty minutes, quietly pondering things when the scent of vanilla assaulted his nostrils.

Granger.

Prior to taking up the temporary, though thankfully brief, stint as her au pair, Severus managed to elude the girl for the most part. Now it seemed that he was unable to escape her clutches.

There was a chance that the young witch didn't know about the unsettling effect she had on him, and Severus aimed to keep her ignorant. However, it was proving more difficult with each passing day.

No matter how many harsh insults he hurled in her direction, Hermione seemed insistent on sticking around to press her nose into his private life. While part of him felt a niggling guilt at behaving so nastily towards her, the reasonable part of his mind reminded him that it was for the best.

His intention had been to keep his distance from her, only striving to maintain a professional relationship. Then she'd shown up in the one place where no one had ever found him, even when he was a young man and what did he do? Offer to escort her on a midnight run to the Forbidden Forest.

It had been sheer circumstance that she fell down and scraped up her hands. Severus knew that he could have easily sent her on her way to the infirmary and let Poppy deal with the affliction, but his selfish nature made him bring her to his private sitting room.

He'd been under the foolish impression that maybe she would sit quietly and drink her tea after tending to her wounds, but that would have been too good to be true. She had to go on, insistently pressing him on his sleeping habits. After soundly chastising Hermione and sending her away, her vanilla scent lingered behind and hung like a cloud of sweet torment.

He had to assent; the young witch was just like him. She never wasted words or dithered about. Hermione Granger was concise and direct when she wanted to know something or prove a point. Severus just wished that he hadn't been the subject of her query.

Swearing out loud, Severus turned over and buried his face in the pillow. Hermione's usually sharp eyes had honed in on one fact; he'd been sleeping fitfully since leaving her house. He was shorter than usual when addressing colleagues, many of whom were only too happy to leave him to his thoughts.

Severus knew it would pose a serious lack of propriety had the young witch slept next to him in his chambers. However, he knew that if he wasn't able to rest properly in the near future, he'd go mad.

Bright and early the next morning, Hermione was up and dressed. She was standing outside with a few of the professors that were chaperoning a trip to Hogsmeade.

"Miss Granger, you weren't obligated to go," McGonagall told her. "You could have stayed back in the warm castle."

Hermione gave a small shrug. "I'm just about caught up with my work," she replied. "Besides, if I don't show my face every so often the headmaster might come and drag me from my room."

"Speaking of which, how did that go?" the professor asked in hushed voice, as they walked behind the group of loudly giggling students. The two still hadn't chatted properly since Hermione returned to school and McGonagall was still worried about her.

"Well…you know the headmaster. He didn't mince words or coddle me in the slightest."

"I admit that Severus is about as nurturing as a troll, but I hope he wasn't too hard on you. Else I'll have his-"

"No, no professor," Hermione hastily amended. "Everything turned out all right. We usually read after each meal. It was quite strange to see him preoccupied with reading instead of scowling."

She wondered why she was downplaying everything for Professor McGonagall, purposely leaving out how he threatened to Imperio her to eat. Mentioning the fact that they shared a bed was totally out of the question.

"If you say so, Miss Granger. Now would you care to join me at the Three Broomsticks? You seem as if you can use a drop of something."

"Well…" she trailed off dubiously.

"Miss Granger, you're of age," she scoffed. "One glass of wine won't hurt. I'm surprised you haven't already turned to Firewhiskey, dealing with Slughorn and his nonsense."

Hermione bit back a laugh, agreeing with the professor but wondering if it was poor taste to voice her opinion.

"You don't have to say anything," McGonagall offered with a wry smile. "I don't have a head full of grey hair for no reason; I know what goes on in this castle. Just between you and me, the man has become idler than I would have dreamed. A life of ease suits him well, and it will be a relief once you take over his post."

After turning into the village, the group of students scattered and went into their desired shops. Hermione and Professor McGonagall took their place in the pub and were soon settled at a table with generous portions of wine.

Madam Rosmerta came over to their table with another round of drinks and sat down, chatting with McGonagall for a bit.

"Why is hasn't that man gone back into retirement?" she griped, her eyes shooting daggers towards the bar.

"He will be and not a moment too soon," McGonagall replied with a heavy sigh. "That time can't come fast enough."

Hermione and McGonagall followed Rosmerta's gaze, looking to see Professor Slughorn, his crinkled eyes two narrow slits as he chuckled merrily with another wizard. He was wildly gesticulating as he spoke, his rapidly moving hand sloshing pale gold liquid over the sides of his mug and onto the floor and bar.

"If he spills one more drop of ale, I'm going to send him straight out on his arse," Rosmerta snapped, tossing down a dingy looking rag.

Hermione tittered quietly and ducked her head, sipping on her second glass of wine and becoming engrossed in snippets of other patron's conversations.

She heard the word 'headmaster' between the low buzz of chatter and her ears immediately perked up.

"The ole codger. Survived being attacked by You-Know-Who yet remains tight lipped about the whole thin'," she heard a raspy voice cough out.

"Well, he's always been an odd one," another equally raspy voice replied.

Hermione tried to turn around without being conspicuous but began feeling the effects of the imbibed wine. All she was able to focus on were two elderly wizards, both of whom were seemingly engaged in a heated debate about Muggle football.

"Are you ready to go, Miss Granger?" she then heard McGonagall asked.

Hermione looked up, finding that Rosmerta had left their table and was back behind the bar.

"Yes," she replied, slowly standing up. She wordlessly followed behind the professor, her eyes focused on the lines of her green tartan traveling cloak.

"Did you plan on visiting any of the shops?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I didn't need anything."

"Very well. We can return to the school; the other professors will make sure the students find their way back."

Hermione willed her feet to move as she trailed in behind. Once they were back at the school, McGonagall gave her a small pat on the arm before disappearing down the hall.

Feeling as if she was back to square one, Hermione trudged along in the direction of her room.

"Miss Granger," came a snide voice, causing her to jump slightly. "Or rather Madam Lush?"

"Leave me alone," Hermione muttered underneath her breath.

"I believe you are forgetting your place, Miss Granger," Severus said crisply, his dark eyes burning down at her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Please leave me alone, sir," she replied more loudly, looking up into the face of the now irritated headmaster.

Severus found himself completely incensed by the little witch that only came up to his shoulder. She was staring him down, her hands placed defiantly on both hips. The two both continued glaring at one another until Severus turned on his heel and walked away.

"The nerve of him!" Hermione hissed in annoyance as she watched the dour man stalk down the nearly empty corridor. 'I should have stepped on his damn robes!'

Hastily walking to her room, she flopped down in her armchair. The languid feeling that the wine caused had nearly dissipated along the ease of her afternoon outing.

Hermione's mood had become reasonably light until she crossed paths with the crabby headmaster. She couldn't help but wonder if the man took some perverse enjoyment in her discomfort. It nearly felt as if she was being forced to pay penance for a sin that she couldn't remember committing.

Eager to get her mind off of her raven-haired source of annoyance, Hermione began going over her work notes for the upcoming week.

She'd already completed half the year of her apprenticeship. The thought that she'd be soon teaching her own classes was thrilling yet daunting. A few times she'd been left to her own devices with Slughorn's classes when he'd gone missing.

The younger students were easier to deal with, but there were always a few that were prone to mischief. A handful of the older students that weren't privy to her schoolwork ethic attempted to challenge her authority. She'd swiftly nipped their antics in the bud by taking house points, something they weren't aware she was capable of.

Professors McGonagall, Sprout and Flitwick had been more than happy to give the burgeoning apprentice sound advice on teaching when she arrived at Hogwarts. Trelawney tried to add in her two knuts of knowledge to which Hermione smiled politely and remained silent.

Hermione peered at a nearly crumbling, age worn piece of parchment that Slughorn had absent-mindedly handed her earlier during the week. Her brow intensely furrowed when she perused the instructions on making a draught that was light sensitive.

"What in ruddy hell?" she mumbled to herself, wondering if she was read his note wrong. 'Is it even possible to brew something in the dark?' she asked herself.

Hermione became more agitated looking over the long list of ingredients and the extensive steps in preparation. It would take a day just to prepare everything and then another just for brewing. She mentally cursed the Potions Master for giving her such an inconvenient draught to brew. It was one that was so obscure she'd never heard of it, and it wasn't listed in any text she'd ever come across.

Seeing as she had nothing else to do for the rest of her day, Hermione resignedly decided that she might as well get a head start on her work. After taking lunch in her room, she pulled her hair back into a secure braid and changed into clothes that she didn't mind getting dirty.

Hermione set up her work supplies in the classroom that Professor Slughorn used. He wasn't around and she surmised that he was either chatting one of the professors into a migraine or sleeping off his multiple mugs of ale.

Once she'd gotten each ingredient from the potions closet, she measured out the desired amount and arranged them into piles. Hermione then set into an easy rhythm of slicing, chopping or breaking everything up into even pieces.

'I wish I had some music in here,' she thought to herself. The only sound filling the classroom was her knife tapping against the lab table's marble top.

Hermione diligently chopped and sorted, completely unaware at the passing time. When she finally looked up the sun was hanging low in the sky, casting a muted orange glow over the laboratory.

"Evening, Granger!" said a chipper voice from the doorway.

Looking up, Hermione saw her very inebriated mentor, his hat askew on his head and his face glowing.

"What are you working on? Love potion?" Slughorn guffawed, coming over and clapping an unsteady hand on her shoulder.

"Hmm," Hermione hummed under her breath, turning her attention back to the piles on the table.

Still laughing at his crass joke, Slughorn made his way into his office, knocking things over along the way. Hermione shook her head when she heard the man talking to himself.

A few hours later she was nearly done, sighing with relief when the last piece of boomslang skin had been perfectly shredded. Eager to get out of the room as she was still able to hear Slughorn carrying on a drunken monologue with himself, Hermione packed everything up and locked it in a small trunk in the corner that had been designated for her sole usage.

Hermione walked to her room and changed out of her work robes. She was on her way back to the great hall for dinner when she ran into Ginny.

"Where have you been?" she asked, looping an arm through Hermione's. "I couldn't find you all afternoon. I would've asked Slughorn but I don't think the man knows his own name right now."

"You've got that right," Hermione grumbled. "I've been in the laboratory since after lunch. He just sauntered in, damn near knocking everything over in the process."

Ginny began giggling, picturing the elderly man wavering to and fro on his feet. "You've only a few months left of your apprenticeship, right?"

"Yes. It's a shame I won't begin teaching until after you graduate."

"Agreed. We could use a new Potions professor. Slughorn has become bad as Professor Binns. If we weren't so busy trying to keep our cauldrons from exploding I think we'd all have pitched ourselves out the window from sheer boredom."

Hermione stifled a laugh. Brevity was not one of Slughorn's strong points. He'd begin rambling off on the oddest tangents much to his students' consternation. The older ones knew to just follow the instructions on the chalkboard, though there had been a few occasions that Hermione stepped in. The first years hadn't known what to make of the bumbling professor, and merely stared back perplexedly at him when he'd begun prattling.

Still arm in arm, Hermione and Ginny took their places together in the great hall. On the weekend everyone was free to sit where they wanted and they used the time to chat.

"How was your date?" Hermione asked between sips of pumpkin juice.

"Eh," Ginny replied nonchalantly, preoccupied with the chicken on her plate.

"Sounds thrilling," her friend replied with a laugh.

"He's in my year, a Ravenclaw. His name is Harvey. Don't know if you know him."

"Tall bloke, brunette hair that's coiffed better than yours and mine put together?"

"Yes, that's him!" Ginny exclaimed with a groan. "You know, he's terribly good looking but a frightful bore. I enjoy Quidditch as much as the next witch but it was ALL he could talk about, and he knows bugger all about it at that."

"You really know how to pick them, Gin."

The redhead rolled her eyes and took another bite. "You're telling me. I don't even think he realized that I played. Once I told him I was both seeker and chaser, only then did he shut it."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "So how are things with you and Harry?"

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "We see each other when we can. I know he and Ron are nearly always tied up with Auror training, but it would be nice to spend some time together."

"I'm sure he'll come around," Hermione offered reassuringly.

"He might, or he might not. Either way, I'm not going to sit around, pining like some simpering schoolgirl."

Hermione nodded in agreement, thankful that Ginny didn't bring up a certain male member of her family. Just then a glimmer of scraggly, blonde hair caught the corner of her eye.

"Hello Luna," she said when she took her place next to Ginny.

"Good evening," Luna greeted, forlornly looking across the dining table. "I was hoping they'd have the pudding out by now."

"Did you just now come to dinner?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," the blonde witch answered serenely, as if it was normal thing to have dessert as a meal.

Ginny and Hermione were both used to their friend's eccentric behavior and merely smiled fondly. Luna was now preoccupied with the brightly beaded bracelet around her left wrist.

"Pudding is my favorite part. Sometimes Daddy and I would eat it first, before dinner," she continued. "Sweets make everyone happy, right? Perhaps the headmaster should have some, he looks terrible."

"Luna, he always looks like that," Ginny told her patiently.

"That's true, but he looks more cross than usual as of late," Luna went on, absentmindedly sliding the little beads back and forth. "Oh look, my favorite!" she cried when the platters of dessert suddenly materialized on the table.

Hermione remained silent throughout Luna and Ginny's entire exchange. Her attention was focused on the staff dais, where Snape was indeed prostrated. His black eyes flickered towards her for the briefest of seconds before his already tense face grew more pinched.

"Oh wonderful. Luna mentions Snape and now of course he's glaring in our direction," Ginny spat, making Hermione turn back around. "What in bloody hell is his problem?"

"You know the headmaster," Hermione said wryly. "Always chuffed to bits about something." She looked back towards the dais and found that Severus' chair was now empty.

She frowned slightly but turned back around, digging her fork into her plate of dessert.

Ginny led Hermione and Luna to the Gryffindor common room, where they sat chatting until bedtime. Knowing that Filch would most likely be out on the prowl with his abominable red-eyed cat, Hermione walked Luna back to the Ravenclaw dormitories.

Indeed Filch had been skulking about, attempting to harass her when she was alone and on the way back to her chambers. Twice she calmly explained to the cranky man that she wasn't a student. The caretaker refused to be reasonable, still continuing with his grousing until Hermione grew snappish.

When she was finally in the safety of her room, Hermione took a quick shower and changed into a nightgown. She slipped into bed with a book, using the light from her wand to focus on the print. Only when the words began to grow fuzzy around the edges did she put the light out and attempt to sleep.

"Blimey, Hermione. Rough night?" Ginny said to her the next afternoon.

"Sort of," she replied, pushing the disheveled curls away from her face.

"Are you still having nightmares?" Luna asked.

"How can you tell?" Hermione asked. Her broken sleeping habits weren't something she generally shared, and last night had been one of the more difficult ones. Again she'd woken up crying and nearly hysterical, thinking that her hands were bathed in blood. She'd hastily thrown the duvet back, checking herself over until she realized that nothing was amiss. It had been a while before she was able to fall back asleep.

"I still have them too," Luna answered without any further reply.

That Sunday afternoon Ginny and Luna had come knocking on Hermione's door. She was still in bed, groggy from her lack of rest and greeted her friends still clad in a rumpled nightgown.

Ginny figured that Hermione had stayed up late with her nose stuck in a book. She fussed at her in a way that resembled her mother perfectly, telling Hermione to shower so they could go to lunch.

After coming out of the lavatory, Hermione winked at her friend and summoned a house elf. A few minutes later the girls were devouring a full spread at the little table in her room.

"You have all the luck," Ginny told her. "I wish the house elves would come to our common room. D'you know how lovely it would be to have a lie in, without having to move from your bed to fetch breakfast?"

"You sound just like your brother," Hermione griped.

"Hermione, what's this?" Luna asked, holding up her portable cd player.

"It's a Muggle thing. It plays music," she told Luna, taking the headphones out of her hand and placing them on her head.

Hermione was surprised that the electronic worked in the Wizarding world, but reasoned that it did only because of batteries. She'd made a mental note to stock up on more when she went back to the Muggle part of London.

Luna's clear, blue eyes stared back curiously at Hermione, holding the little grey square in her hands. The last thing she'd been listening to was Chopin's Nocturne in E flat major, Op. 9 No. 2, and the soft sounds of the piano suddenly came through the headphones. Luna's eyes immediately lit up and she scrambled upright on her feet, wavering back and forth in place to the music.

"Now that Luna is properly entertained, do you want to tell me what's going on with you?" Ginny asked, turning her attention away from the swaying blonde witch.

"It's like I said, Gin," Hermione murmured, her amber eyes growing wide as saucers when Luna, whom was still dancing with her eyes shut nearly collided with one of the bed posts. "Off and on I've been having these dreams, but when I wake up I can barely remember anything."

The redhead nodded her head, listening to her friend yet her brown eyes partly focused on a twirling Luna.

"The one thing I do remember is blood; a lot of blood."

"Why haven't you made yourself a dreamless draught? You're a bloody potions apprentice, surely you have everything at your disposal."

"Believe me, I wish it were that easy. But if you continue taking it you become immune to it. They say you can actually go a bit mental if you overdo it."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. If there's something I can do to help, just tell me," Ginny said consolingly.

"Thanks, Ginny. I expect that they'll go away. I suppose being back here where everything happened doesn't help."

Ginny nodded slowly, thinking back to her own horrors. "I don't have them so much anymore but they manage to creep up every now and then."

"I know the feeling. It would be nice to wake up without my heart feeling as if it's trying to run out of my chest," Hermione said, tentatively eyeing Luna. "I wonder if we should sit her down before she hurts herself?"

"She'll be fine. Luna is more resilient than she looks," Ginny laughed. "She's gone arse over elbows more times than I can count, only to pop right back up. She reminds me of Tonks sometimes."

Hermione giggled, thinking about the purple haired clumsy witch. Despite walking over a flat, stable surface, without fail Tonks would always manage to trip and fall.

She then looked over to see Luna standing at her desk, peering down at the parchment outlining the tedious steps of the obscure potion she'd started working on the day before. "You're working on the Atra potion?" she asked, her voice a bit louder than usual as she still wore the headphones.

"Is that what the damn thing is called?" Hermione asked, motioning for Luna to uncover one of her ears. "Slughorn didn't even have its name on the parchment. It took me all day yesterday just to cull and sort the ingredients, and now I have to find a room that's impervious to sunlight to brew it in."

"It's quite difficult to brew," Luna continued, tracing a fingertip over the parchment. "But it's said to be a powerful healing draught."

"I'm curious Luna, how do you know about that potion? Because up until yesterday I'd never heard of it, and it wasn't in any of my books."

"My mum told me about it," she answered. "She wasn't very good at brewing but she read a lot."

"I see," Hermione replied politely, shooting Ginny a curious glance. She then peered out of the window, seeing that the day was unusually sunny. Managing to pry her cd player from Luna's grasp, the three left the confines of Hermione's room and spent their afternoon outdoors.

Hermione found herself in a good mood after spending the day with her friends. They'd gone to the great hall to have supper together and then Hermione was off, explaining that she needed to finish her project. She'd attempted to not0 look towards the staff dais, but was unsuccessful, finding that a certain dour headmaster was once again missing.

After parting ways from her friends, Hermione made her way down to the dungeons. She'd done some sleuthing and found that she would be able to brew in the old potions laboratory that Snape previously used. The day before she'd gone down first to make sure that everything was in suitable condition before committing to the different workspace.

Refusing to wile away an undeterminable amount of hours in stark silence, Hermione brought down her little cd player and had the earphones in place as she set up her cauldron on the marble tabletop. Softlt humming along, she used the dim light of her wand to see in front of her.

Previously the room had been lit by a murky green light from the lake. Hermione conjured a black cloth in front of the windows, feeling the need to practice extra caution as she was in no mood to restart the tedious steps of preparing the draught.

"Damn," she muttered to herself, feeling a trickle of sweat work its way down the back of her neck. "Of course I'm uncomfortable when I don't have a free hand." Hermione had the glass stirring rod in her right hand and her wand in the left, with the dimmest glimmer exuding from the tip. Save for the wand she would have been in pitch black.

With the door closed, the already damp dungeon housed room was becoming more humid by the minute. Hermione was all but hovered over her bubbling cauldron and could feel the steam making her already unruly curls frizzier. Her only comfort was the soothing music tunneled into both ears.

Hermione was so focused on her cauldron, stirring occasionally and waiting for its contents to change consistencies, she didn't notice that someone else was now in the room with her.
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Broken Dreams