Hello everybody. I hope you will enjoy this story. My native language is Dutch, so feel free to comment on my English as well as on the story.

Happy reading!

I've been going through this fic to fix spelling and grammatical errors; because, auwch, my English was bad a year ago.
Edited 2017-10

Everything except the storyline belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 1

Hermione was tossing and turning in her bed, unable to sleep for the so-manieth night in a row. With a sigh, she threw back the blankets and stepped out of her four-poster bed. She decided to take a walk to the lake and watch the moonlight reflect on its surface. It was halfway April, the Easter holidays had just started, so she put on some extra clothes under her warm robes to fight off the chill that would still be present in the night air.

During her walk through the castle, she reflected on the last year. After the Battle of Hogwarts, she dutifully helped McGonagall with rebuilding the school. By mid-August, the school was mostly rebuild; only the school grounds still bore a lot of traces of the battle that won the 'Dark War', as people were calling it these days. Reconstruction of the grounds continued until the snow started falling in October, and had recently restarted.

As the rebuild of the castle was nearing its end, McGonagall asked Hermione if she was willing to take over as the transfiguration professor, since she would be too busy with her tasks as headmistress. After some consideration, Hermione had accepted the position on the condition that McGonagall would apprentice her to become an animagus, her learning spirit still ever present despite the hardships of war. The women easily came to an agreement.

As Hermione pushed open one of the great doors of the entrance hall, she breathed in some of the fresh air. Everything had started out great. Preparing lesson plans, teaching, grading, patrolling, and studying with McGonagall, it all had her scrambling to keep up. She mastered the animagus transformation by the end of January – which was a lot faster than most, but nobody really was surprised about that – and she found that she could relax a bit more.

Then, the nightmares started. Practically every night she dreamt she died in one horrific way or another, waking often screaming and bathed in her own sweat. Sometimes she dreamt she was back at Malfoy manor. Bellatrix's mad laugh ringing through her head. The odd nights she didn't dream, she woke up feeling as if she hadn't slept at all. It left her fearful to fall asleep, and by now it was becoming increasingly difficult to fall asleep at all.

She reached her favourite willow tree by the lake, and tiredly lowered herself to sit at its base, her back and head resting against its trunk, her eyes closed. She could hear the slight rustle of the wind and the lapping sound of the lake a few meters away.

Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep, only to wake up, screaming at the top of her lungs, a mere 45 minutes later. On instinct, she leapt up and ran away. A sound from behind her made her spin around, wand in hand.

"Expelliarmus" she cried, swiftly followed by a 'Stupify'.

At the last moment, she violently jerked her arm, sending the spell wide away from her target, as her senses caught up with her. Standing in front of her was none other than Severus Snape. He swiftly disposed of her attack with a non-verbal spell and a short flick of his wand. His skills obviously honed to perfection. Hermione's hands flew to her mouth.

"Oh my, Professor Snape, I am so sorry. I was having a nightmare and I suddenly woke up, and you startled me, and I wasn't thinking, and…"

"Granger," he interrupted.

Hermione realised she was rambling and clamped her mouth shut.

"I really am sorry," she mumbled while pocketing her wand.

Snape simply looked at her. "What are you doing here at this time of night, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione looked away from his dark shape and turned towards the lake. She was surprised to see she was standing only two steps away from the water, and realised she would have run straight into it had the professor not made a sound.

"I couldn't sleep," she answered, "the moonlight and the sound of the lake soothe me."

She could feel his eyes on her and again looked his way.

"I could ask you the same thing," she stated.

He merely lifted an eyebrow. She cowered under his gaze. How was it he could still make her feel so nervous?

"Ehm, well, I should, ehm, be heading back inside," she stammered. "Goodnight professor."

She started walking away.

"It's a full moon," she heard after some time. She blankly looked at him over her shoulder, until realisation hit her.

"Potion ingredients, of course, I should have known," she said.

She nodded another goodnight and started the long way back to her quarters. Along the way, she was again emerged in thought and becoming more horrified by the minute. She attacked him! Granted, she was still half in her nightmare and operating on instinct alone, but still!

She couldn't but admire the skill with which he had deflected her attacks though. She groaned. He must have heard her screaming. The shame! Hermione recalled her dream. A faceless person had hit her organs with an 'Engorgio', making her explode from the inside out. Despite the trouble it was giving her, she had to admit that her brain was getting creative. Without mirth, she shook her head.

Severus watched the retreating form of Hermione Granger. He was returning from his plant gathering when he saw a shape under the old willow tree. Once closer, he recognised the shape as a sleeping Miss Granger.

Her sudden screaming had him grab his wand on reflex. Which was lucky, because once he made a sound to prevent her from running headlong into the lake, she spun so fast that he doubted he would have been able to defend himself had he not already had his wand in hand. The fact that she asked him what he was doing, and that she thereby had not noticed the bag he was holding, was so unlike her, he grew even more concerned. A feeling he rather not dwell on. Why he felt the necessity to answer her question, however cryptically, he didn't even consider contemplating.

As soon as he was sure she was out of hearing range, he called his house elf.

"Grab a vial of dreamless sleep potion out of my personal stock, and put it on Miss Granger's bedside table."

The elf looked mildly surprised but dutifully disappeared with a soft 'pop'.