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It's always easier to run	By : h0lden Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 5733 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 1

'One faces thtureture with one's past' - Pearl S. Buck
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"Perfect."

Hermione gently blew the ink on the parchment, aiding its drying as she slipped it to the far side of her desk. All her summer planning was out of the way now; she'd taken care of everything. Going through a mental list, she leaned back in the chair, arching her back until it cracked and let out a small yawn. She glanced at the clock on the far wall, noting it was almost seven o'clock at night. My, how the time raced by when one was occupied.

"I'm going Professor Jennings. The notes are on the table, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

A tall woman poked around the corner, her squinty eyes jovial. "Alright then Sandra. Have a nice night."

Hermione nodded lightly, gathering her things and placing them in her bag. She passed through the empty corridors of the University, her hands digging around in her purse for her keys. She sighed exasperated, shaking the bag until the familiar chime sounded in her ears and she grasped them in her hand.

She whistled soundly, ly, mostly for comfort as she maneuvered around the darkened building.

"Goodnight Aaron." she said over her shoulder to the night watchman.

"'Night Sandra."

Hermione nodded and continued on her way, past the piney smell of the empty classrooms, all the way out the side door of the building. She went out into the parking lot, the scent of the newly brought fall invading her nostrils as she made her way to her gray car. She ignored the growing rust spot on the bottom of the car door and unlocked it. She tumbled into the drivers seat, dropping her belongings in the back.

She started the raggedy car with a yawn and set off for home. On her long duration to her destination, she had a chance to look around at the just what fall had to offer. Leaves, crisp air, possibility.

Ah fall...my favorite time of the year. Why I can go and read to my hearts content without-. Her stomach gave a lurch and she stopped her train of thought, seating herself more steadily in the wobbling chair. Why would I think of them now? Why Harry and Ron?

She pulled into her parking stall with a lurch, gathering her things and making her way up to her small flat. It had cost her a bit, but it was worth it to have a home of her own. She wasn't one for roommates anyway. She closed the door behind her, dropping her shoes and purse off near the door she locked.

"Crookshanks?" she called lightly, hearing the familiar clatter of the tabby's claws against the hardwood floor. The ginger cat mewed softly as her owner sauntered into the small kitchen, preparing herself a quick meal for supper.

"Did you miss me?" Hermione said with a grin, pouring the cat food into Crookshanks favorite dish. She placed it at her feet, watching as her pet hungrily ate as if she was starving it regularly.

"I should." she said good-naturedly, plopping down beside him on the cool tile of the kitchen floor. "You're getting far too chubby."

She poked Crookshanks' side absently, smirking at his irritated expression as he continued eating at a mad pace. Suddenly she grew solemn, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. She shook her head angrily, furious that this always happened.

"Lately I can't stop thinking about them.." Hermione said softly, looking to her cat. This seemed to be a weekly talk session. Hermione would pour her heart out and Crookshanks would eat. "I can't stop thinking about Harry and Ron and Hogwarts...even Snape."

At this Crookshanks let out a low growl. Hermione continued softly, feeling the springy fur of Crookshanks under her absent fingertips. "I'm worried something wrong..." she stopped suddenly, so sudden that Crookshanks leapt for the bedroom hurriedly.

"What the hell do I care?" Hermione wondered alongringrily, slamming her fist into the nearby wall. For good measure she slammed the cupboard doors a few times, just to get herself spent. Still angry and with her kitchen relatively messy she discarded her unmade dinner and headed for her bedroom and falling onto the bed.

Now, it was no secret that Hermione had loved Harry and Ron for they had been like the brother's she'd never had. Why, she'd grown up an only child with no real siblings and so in a way, Harry and Ron had almost been saviors in a way.

But now things were different

Now she was at home, her new home. She had a new life, new friends and above all: New connections. She was training to be a Muggle doctor and a writer on the side. She had a feeling selling a few stories about a wizard boy might do well. So far she had a few pieces in the paper, nothing big.

Her parent's would have been proud.

She frowned softly, looking to her room, the nostalgic sentiment getting to her as her eyes grew bleary. She was all alone. Her parents had been murdered just under three years ago, and not surprisingly the wounds of pain and loss were still fresh. This was the cause of not being at the Burrow for any further summers, she was no longer a child.

The house, which was a cherished part of Hermione's home had been sold within a month of her parents �murder�, which was still to this day unsolved. It hadn't taken two and two to decipher what had occurred. She knew damn well what had happened.

Voldemort had happened.

At the thought of the cretin Hermione's stomach gave an unsteady lurch. She still didn't forgive herself for her parent's death, for it was her fault. She'd made friends with Potter. She had become and easy target, she had been the base of her parent's ruination. At the name her lip curled into a bitter sneer, one that would rival that of her despised Professor.

She was a murderer.

Dumbledore had tried to persuade her into coming back to the school for her seventh and final year. Much talk of Head Girl and so forth had commenced, but the pain was too far progressed. Every stone in the wall, every broom she encountered was just a memory of what she had traded for the life of her parents. A life of magic and wonder...how cruel they were, fooling children into thinking they weren't preparing for a war to end all wars.

And she had obviously been a prime candidate to assist in the said war. And why not? She was brilliant, she was kind and she was pure and good. She wanted what was best for everyone, she wanted to help Dumbledore, and she wanted the end of Voldemort. Some things never changed.

But then again, some things did.

She had left Hogwarts nearing the end of her sixth year. She had been seventeen then, young and confused. She'd moved in with her Muggle Aunt in the heart of London and taken care of her younger cousin until she'd been of legal age to move out. She had attended a private high school and graduated valedictorian. This was no real surprise since she had no friends, she had no social life, and she had nothing but her books.

Aunt Marge had been kind and comforting, she had been Hermione's favorite Aunt. It had been a sad day when Hermione moved out of the house, but a rejuvenating one as well. She was in a new world of possibilities. She was a grown woman of eighteen who knew what she had to do to survive. Her parents had left her well off, and since she was as brilliant with money as she was with everything else, she'd had no real problems.

After University classes, in the evenings she would help one of her Professors as an assistant, getting lecture notes prepared, doing research on occasion. As far as she knew, Hermione was living the life she'd been meant to. After all, what did the wizarding world have to offer besides prejudice? Mudblood filth and know-it-alls?

She was far better off without it.

Harry and Ron had made things difficult. It wasn't so much Ron, for he had been his usual self. Non communicating and in essence, didn't make it as hard as she thought he would. This part hurt. He had given her a soft hug, probably furious that she wasn't staying to do his homework for him and a gentle kiss on the cheek.

She hadn't been able to look at Harry, for in her misguided fury she saw him as the cornerstone for everything that had gone wrong. He was the reason Sirius was dead, he was the reason this whole war was going on. He was why her parents were dead. She'd given him a detached goodbye, not staying to hear his muted response.

She had to make sure she severed every connection. She didn't want to be contacted. She didn't want to come back, she didn't want a link. She didn't want false promises, she didn't want any more pain. No more pain.

She'd brought her luggage to the foyer, preparing to take her leave when a familiar sinister figure had emerged from the shadows. It hadn't taken much to discover it was the King Bat himself, but she kept her tongue as she passed him, refusing to bestow any more attention on him that he deserved.

He had still towered over her seventeen year old frame, and due to genetics probably always would. His lank hair hung in his face and gave the most unflattering shape to his face, only extenuating the hooked nose of his.

She'd always given Snape the benefit of the doubt as a child and teen, believing him to be such a hero and savior to all. Foolish of her. He was just as bad as the boy he hated so. He was a Death eater wasn't he? Why hadn't he stopped her parent's carnage? The mere sight of those eyes made her furious to her very core as he passed her by she'd given him a passing glance of disenchantment, her head held high.

"Always easier to run, isn't it?" Snape had murmured silkily as he passed, just low enough for her to hear. She had kept walking, refusing to face the sinister git as he continued his duration invariably to the dungeons.

She'd also refused to turn in fear that he'd see the tears he caused.

Now she stood in her bedroom, wanting to stop the sudden river of tears down her face at the mere memory of Snape. She had been surprised he'd said anything to her at all, and wished he hadn't. His words cut her, as if he understood her motivations for leaving and simply didn't care.

But that was Snape for you. Even when it was years passed and he was no longer your Professor, he still had that way of cutting you down to size and making you feel utterly worthless. In a matter of moments Hermione's sobs had lessened and she moved to change into her pajamas when the doorbell rang.

This was starling for it was now almost nine o'clock at night, and Hermione never had visitors. This had to be an emergency. She felt her heart leap into her throat the thought that something had happened to Aunt Marge. It was with this thought in her mind that she had flung open the door in a state of panic.

So she was rather surprised when Professor Severus Snape himself appeared on her doorstep that night, looking to her with an unreadable expression on his features before collapsing into a heap at her feet.
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Author's notes:

I am well aware that I have a million stories going on. And at least two more that I refuse to start before I complete others. But this one -against my will, I swear- wrote itself and who the hell am I to mess with that? *grin* I hope you enjoy it, there is much to come although I think it'll be quite darker compared to my other pieces of work...who knows? Only time will tell. cheers. holden.

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It's always easier to run