***A/N: I don't like doing this but I am a perfectionist and the moment I reread the version of this chapter I had uploaded previous to this I was ashamed... I am so sorry you had to see so many errors, so...I re-wrote it! not entirely, mind you, but well enough that it is now legible and flows rather nicely if I do say so myself :D***

Hello and welcome to my first FFic in about... hmm... seven? years... was operating on this site since 2004 under a different pen name but i have no idea if the e-mail attached to that account even exists... and i sure don't remember the password haha!

Well, anyways, i Hope you enjoy, tell me what you think! (though to be honest i'm not interested if you don't care for the pairing or whatnot... real constructive criticism or happy comments are always appreciated though!)

I also just want to add that these characters and places are not my property, unfortunately. Though the things Severus does in my head are ;)

The soft sound of her bare footsteps were audible in the empty corridor as she walked at a brisk pace to reach the library in the dark. The way she held herself and the change from her trademark unruly brown hair to the sandy, flowing curls she now wore were amongst some of the features that had grown and altered in response to the raging war, as well as having to cope and adjust to the horrific loss of friends and family alike. Everyone needs an outlet. Facing a complete societal and economic collapse and trying to just- hold it all together, well- she still had to become a woman, right? As she absent-mindedly climbed a flight of stairs, she couldn't help but reflect upon the series of events that brought her to her present state.

Hermione Jayne Granger hadn't really changed much in two years; not where she thought it counted, anyways. Oh, she still preferred books to gossip and structure instead of recklessness, but she had adapted. She had evolved in correspondence to her surroundings. And she had survived. Harry and Ron had been quite counter-productive with the latter, during the final phase of battle. And if she were honest with herself, they never really were... but then again, she had had her own moments as well. Suppose it came with the territory of fighting a raging lunatic since the age of eleven. The boys clearly meant well and all, but they had never been as quick to identify and react to different situations as she had, so naturally they had overreacted with blind passion instead of logic when Voldemort burst through the last remaining Hogwarts wards, striking down hundreds of their fellow students and teachers, his minions of terror setting aflame to and combusting everything in sight. Harry and Ron had sprinted directly to Voldemort, hurling the Avada Kedavra and every other unspeakable curse they could think of at him and his followers, killing a few and wounding many, only for Voldemort to cast a dark and ancient-sounding spell to summon the last coveted piece of his twisted soul back.

The results should have been fatal, having something ripped from the fabric of your being against your will, but somehow he had survived- Physically. Emotionally, though- he was an empty shell of his former self. No longer did he harbor even the slightest interest in Quidditch, Chocolate Frogs, or even Wizard's Chess. The first time she had gotten to see him after it was all over, she couldn't help but wonder if it was worth it. Of course, she knew It was, but seeing her best friend sitting on a cot in Hogwarts' infirmary, motionless, with soul-saddened eyes deadened to any other emotion, tore at the fibers of her heart. It was as if he had retreated into his own self so deeply that all he could feel was a bland, confused nothingness, though she believed that at least he had it better than those poor souls that were unfortunate enough to run into the Dementors; at least Harry could still talk. At least there was some small ray of hope. The healers at St. Mungo's ascertained that when Voldemorts' soul fragment ripped from Harrys', it shattered parts of his soul as well, and that there was nothing that could be medically done. "We heal bodies, Miss Granger. Not souls!" the healer, Ainsworth it was, had snapped at her as her sobs grew louder and the harried witch had left the room. Ron had gotten hit with a nasty hex that left him in burning pain and gave him nasty blisters for a few weeks. The healers had eventually figured out a counter-curse for the pain and some salve for the blisters, but after the sores had gone away they left large pitted scars that no spell or potion had been able to erase. Hermione had sat at his bedside during that time, when she wasn't trying to get Harry to have a conversation with her which did not consist of one-word answers or shrugs, and It seemed that after the initial shock of being newly disfigured for life, Ron had begun to accept the change in his visage with humor, even going so far as to compare his scars with Bills during a family visit, saying his were "much manlier and sexy!" With a cheeky wink.

Riddle, on the other hand, apparently could not stand the purity of even a few shards of Harry's soul; Some "Dark Lord." A bright, iridescent light from the tiny pieces had spread until completely engulfing him, and with one ear-piercing scream he had exploded-much to everyone's shock- into millions of little pieces of fire and ash. The Dark Lord was no more. His "faithful" followers quickly apparated away but most were caught by some remaining ministry officials and volunteers in the following weeks.

Amidst the chaos and terror she had begun to cling to the small, usually looked-over things in life; brushing her hair every morning and night until it shone had become a small heaven, a hot bubble bath a luxury in her battle-oriented, dangerous life. Though as time wore on after the war and the wizarding societal collapse, she started to apply her neatly and organized way of thinking to her clothing and in the way she lived as well- Having her Robes and clothes nicely pressed and put together, her nails clean and buffed, having spotless living arrangements- well, she'd be locked up in St. Mungo's Psychiatric ward by now if she didn't have at least these small comforts to keep her sane. Ron and Ginny had commented offhandedly a few times on how well she was maturing and George, pink in the face during Christmas the year before, had cornered her in the kitchen at the burrow and called her a "right lush." She had known he was drunk but at the same time she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction that at least there was something that no one, not even Voldemort, could rob her of; her pride.

After the war and the dust had settled, she and Ron had taken separate jobs in the ministry like many of the remaining order members. He, George, and Ginny had become Fine Aurors, and she had taken a Senior Clerical job in the Department of Magical Administration. Documenting and filing the general information about wizarding families and muggleborn witches and wizards that had been destroyed by the Deatheaters during the overrule of the ministry had at first been fulfilling, she got to help people like herself re-establish themselves in wizarding society once again. Eventually though, the work had began to bore her... she needed a fresh start somewhere where she wasn't reminded daily of all of the hate and deception the world could harbor. The unjustness, unfairness, and inhumanity people were capable of. Professors Mcgonagall and Dumbledore, along with most of the remaining staff, had gone back to Hogwarts to care for the students that no longer had homes to go to, and to repair the castle and its defenses. Remus and Tonks moved to Canada, where Tonks later gave birth to a very adorable,healthy baby boy, named Teddy. Kingsley Shacklebolt was elected new Minister for Magic and Arthur Weasley as his second in command. Thoughts of her friends and what she thought of as her Magical family reminded her of the glaring fact that not everyone that she had fought next to had survived; Mundungus Fletcher, Professor Flitwick, and professor Trelawney... Poor Colin Creevey and Hannah Abbott; All had died as casualties of a fruitless and prejudiced war, not to forget the countless others... Families torn apart in agony... the wizarding population in Great Britain had been reduced to less than half of its previous luster as whole towns and families were wiped from our midst in a wave of destruction and devastation before and even after the battle. She tried not to dwell on these things as she rounded a corner and decided to avoid the area that she knew Filch and his pest Mrs. Norris frequented this time a night, and took the long way around. Better not to get caught on her first night here as an academic Professor, skulking about in the dark corridors at night in her bedclothes.

It had been out of sheer coincidence that last night, after another solitary supper in her townhouse, She had received an unexpected owl from Professor Dumbledore;

Dear Miss Granger,

I hope you are doing well! I wanted to inform you that as of this Friday, 5th of July, Professor Minerva McGonagall will be stepping down from her post as the Head of Griffindor House and Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry to pursue a much-deserved leisurely retirement, So It is my Sincerest hope that you please forgive the short notice, and consider this letter a formal offer of both her post as Head of House and Professor here at Hogwarts.

Both Minerva and I are confident that if you choose to accept, you will make an invaluable and much appreciated member of our staff, Miss. Granger. Please send your response as soon as possible so we can make the necessary arrangements. If you are so inclined, Minerva will stay until tomorrow to see you settled in.

Hoping you had a wonderful day, and looking forward to hearing from you soon,

Professor Albus Dumbledore,

Headmaster,

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"This is exactly what I need!" She'd said excitedly to the rather shocked looking owl still perched on her windowsill. It had given a small, nervous "hoot!" and flown off, presumably to scavenge some unlucky rodent before making the long flight back to Hogwarts.

She'd re-read the letter for a second time and had felt a tingling sense of anticipation and purpose rise within her. She was saddened that Professor McGonagall would be leaving but she agreed with Dumbledore that it was much deserved and most definitely a long time coming. She had hastily wrote a response on a piece of parchment, rolled it up, and tied it to the leg of her own owl Harry had gotten her not long before the final battle, Shahar. He'd laughingly said that she needed her own reliable form of letter transportation after her second attempt at holding pigwidgeon down and successfully attaching an very important Order letter had failed, and bought the silvery bird as an "early birthday present" for her. As she'd watched the large bird fly off into the distance, she had felt like she was just that much closer to finally going home.

The next morning she'd awakened with a renewed sense of purpose and only having half a day before her expected arrival, quickly began to pack all of the necessary belongings she would need as a dignified Professor at Hogwarts. It wasn't much; she would have to go shopping for teaching robes and some new books and supplies in Hogsmead after she settled in, but she still needed to pack some of her more valuable books, possessions and toiletries. She had wondered if she would be able to handle all of the responsibilities she was being given, but she also knew that Dumbledore wouldn't offer her a job that he wasn't sure her capable of doing, let alone Minerva Mcgonagall allowing a sub-par academic to take her place. Soon she was done and just getting ready to settle down with a cup of tea when the same owl as the night before began to tap madly at the window. Hmm.., she'd thought, Shahar must have taken a liking to the Headmaster. No doubt it was the treats she knew he liked to spoil all the messenger birds with. Feathered glutton. She'd let the crazed owl flap around her ceiling as she read her official confirmation of employment letter with sheer giddiness, the realization that this is what I am supposed to do! settling in her belly.

Dear Professor Granger,

It is with great honor that I thank you and congratulate you for joining our staff! As afore mentioned, today is Minerva's last day here at Hogwarts, so I would greatly appreciate your arrival anytime after noon and before dinner so we have time to discuss class-schedules, official duties, and living arrangements.

Looking forward to professionally making your acquaintance!

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Considering her rudeness to the little thing still flapping around her kitchen the night before, she'd let it have some of her ham and cheese scone before shoo-ing out of the window. The rest of the day had gone by uneventfully, and before she knew it she was apparating to the front gates of Hogwarts, her" new" home. Albus and Minerva had met her at the front doors, each giving her big hugs and assuring her she was the perfect person for the job. She had felt confident enough to nod and accept their pleasantries, even though she felt inferior after having been out of her studies for so long. "I couldn't think of a person more suited to filling my positions here at Hogwarts. I always said you were the brightest witch of your age, Miss- Professor Granger." They'd both given her a such warm, reassuring smiles and led her up to the Headmaster's office to discuss logistics and have a private dinner. After they were much too full of seafood penne and a delicious vino verte', Minerva had then excused them both and shown her to her new quarters. The older woman had chosen them for herself when she took both her posts to have her rooms near the front of the castle ("a much better view, dear!"), but the Head of House rooms were located on the main hall behind the front stairway accessible through a tapestry or any number of doors, and she was welcome any time to explore her other chambers and choose for herself where she wanted to live. After a somewhat heartfelt and emotional first tour of the professors rooms, she had given her one last motherly hug, whispering into her shoulder with unseen tears, "And the legacy lives on. you'll do great, Hermione." The older witch had withdrawn rather quickly after that, turning her head so it wasn't completely obvious she had lost control of her faculties in polite company, given her a last final look-over, smiled, and walked out of the room.

Considering the short-notice and the air of finality left in place as Minerva was leaving the grounds as a professor for the last time, all had gone well. Which was why she couldn't understand why she was now, at half-past eleven pm, practically sprinting to the library under the impression that she was in way over her head and she needed to study now. But when she got to the library it wasn't locked; in fact, the door wasn't even shut and there was light streaming through the crack between the doors. She crept up slowly, now fully aware that she was wearing her dark purple satin shorts and oversized tank-top set. She tried to catch a glimpse of who was inside but they seemed to be sitting in her favorite spot on the heavenliest sofa by a large picturesque bay window overlooking part of the Black Lake, partially hidden behind a couple rows of shelves. She slipped silently through the door and inched closer until she was behind the last shelf between her and whoever had taken up residence in the library, thanking Merlin that it was Black as night in the large room. After taking a cleansing breath and getting up the nerve, you never know, it could always be Filch..., she finally peeked out from behind the edge of the shelf, and stared in utter shock.

Sprawled out on the squashiest sofa with his leg dangling off the side reading a large and very old looking tome, was non other than Professor Severus Snape. But it couldn't be Professor Snape... She didn't remember him looking so... strong. or human. Or alive. She hadn't seen him after the battle; with hearings and Harry and Ron and the funerals... she hadn't had much time to visit the other survivors, and she wasn't about to run into him at the Department of Magical Administration. Unlike the last time she had set eyes on him, He seemed to have well-defined but not overly large muscles, somewhat visible under a partially-buttoned white shirt, and she noticed for the first time that he didn't look as old as she remembered, either- he looked relaxed and almost carefree, very un-Snape like. The flickering candlelight revealed shiny and soft looking hair, not greasy and stringy as so many of his students and peers (as well as herself) had thought. Logically she knew that she must have seen this man a hundred times since her first year but for some reason she couldn't take her eyes off of him right now... maybe because I haven't seen him since before he was exonerated after being found alive and suffering alone from Nagini's attack that night in the Shrieking Shack, and I've never seen him without his teaching robes and all those buttons covering that... that body. Get a grip, Granger! What in the bloody hell is wrong with you?! you are Lusting, and after a Teacher, no less! And with a firm shake of her head she tried to banish any more semi-inappropriate and troubling thoughts of her ex-potions professor and turned around, determined not to leave until she had borrowed at least one book about transfigurations for all her troubles. After a solid two minutes of fumbling as silently as possible in the dark, she made her way towards an area she knew had a few books that could prove helpful... until she knocked one of those books noisily off of the shelf. ...please not have heard... please not have heard... ...She stood as still as a board, holding her breath, the sudden fear rising in her bowls, waiting... Then, from somewhere to the right a couple of rows down, she heard that voice she had heard so many times before, silky and rich, belittling her in class, and making a mockery of her and her friends in the hall...

" I know Someone is in here."

She tried backing up slowly, but it would do no good. He had heard precisely where she was and had positioned himself accordingly, between her and the only exit. Ever the spy... She was, as Ron would put it, Royally Fucked. Still she tried a hasty escape, backing up until she could get to the corner he had just vacated and circle around, but just as she was turning to make a run for it, she ran smack into something very solid, and yet so soft, that also happened to smell really, really good.

It took all her years of overachieving knowledge at that moment in time to determine that it was not, in fact, a bookshelf.

Hope you enjoyed this! Please Review!

A few questions will be answered in the next chapter, it should hopefully be up by the end of the month :)

***I would also like to note that I will not be addressing any questions in the form of an Authors Note. :)

Wickid&Sweet