Among many other things, what if Hermione Granger could never walk away from her traumatic experience at the Malfoy Manor? Severus Snape has been there for a decade, such at one moment of time, now he realizes he cannot afford to watch some else waste away.

Disclaimer: The regular disclaimer still stays in place; I owe nothing but the AU and OC. The rest belongs to JKR. My mind lives in the Harry Potter fanfiction world though my body is still thankfully anchored in the monotonous reality of existence. My themes, plotline, and storyline may, therefore, get indirectly influenced by many of the brilliant fanfiction writers on this site. And I humbly bow to such creative genius who give me much needed literary pleasures to see through the toils of mundane life. Lastly, I don't have a beta, so please be merciful. Reviews would encourage this introvert writer to peep out of her literary closet.

Sleepless

Chapter 1

Walking around the castle, whether it was during the summer break or while the school was in session, was an exercise Severus Snape could not afford to quit. He spent nearly two decades either spying, plotting, getting beaten up into pulp, teaching, and reading. Though apart from Lily, Potions and Defense Against Dark Arts were the only two things that qualified as things he loved. But after the Battle of Hogwarts, after his second chance to live life once again, much of the previous charm of those subjects have withered away.

Life no longer surprised him, apart from that moment when he realized someone was working hard to revive him in the darkness of the Shrieking Shack. He did try to resist; he did try to push away. As if owing it to Potter was not enough, as if killing the only person, he could imagine as a friend, mentor, and confidant was not enough! In a soft pleading voice, the body hovering above him had begged to God and Merlin," Let him live, let him see for himself life is worth living for...please God, please…" His mother had never begged with such earnestness. He had tried to open his eyes but could only see utter darkness. He felt fingers around his throat, over his sharp cheekbones, under his nose...threading through his greasy black hair. Then he felt someone prying open his lips, massaging his jaw and one after the other stream of liquids pour down his open mouth.

He heard his rescuer sing his spell. He tried once again to open his eyes. All he could see or rather feel was million strands of hair, tickling him under his chin.

His miraculous resurrection was a topic to maul over in glossy papers and in endless books of fame-hungry budding biographers. He never gave an interview, never replied to any of those letters that tried to peep into his private life. When Hogwarts wanted him to resume his post as a Headmaster, he had decided to oppose it. But Minerva's teary eyes had made him choke on his words. Her words made him eat his own words. "All of us are trying to honor you, accept it. Hogwarts will be proud, down the ages, to have you are its Headmaster." He looked away, such an open display of emotions, adoration, and appreciation gnawed at his battered heart. "You ask too much from me, Madam." He had stiffened when she had placed her hand on his shoulder. Forcing him to turn back towards her, she had surprised him by holding his face in hands, "on the contrary, Severus, I want you to come back, so that this time, you can do it right."

Minerva McGonagall never resorted to manipulated, sugar coating, or twisting facts for achieving desired results. Instead she relied on logic, fact, and genuine persuasion and that was what he agreed, he appreciated in her the most.

The very first thing that they had discussed in the staff meeting was to invite students back to school so that they could finish the previous years' course. They were prepared for many to decline the offer because school was the last place any parent would imagine their children getting killed to satisfy the hunger of power of a megalomaniac. He had surmised," It will be both difficult and easy, but will have to work hard." Pomona had joked, "you mean keep breathing down their neck all the time Severus." Perhaps it was the first time he had genuinely smiled at her quip; she had literally toppled her teacup on her robe emptying its hot content. The rest of the staff had laughed and Minerva had slapped his back, "only you do away with dishing out perfect comebacks without wasting a single letter!" When he winked at her, Filius had coughed, laughed, and choked horribly. The staff room never felt this inviting before that day.

These days he could actually afford to relax around the other members of the staff. Even sleep for a couple of hours. But a new development had put a stop to this developing healthy habit. The problem's name was Hermione Granger. It was during the lunch hour that the minor tragedy occurred. The house-elves had been generous enough to cook a small feast in the honour of Madam Hooch's birthday, and a rather clumsy owl had flown right into the two-tier cake that the Games Teacher had requested for. Filius had levitated the poor thing, scourgified its wings, without even waiting for a treat, the pig-headed owl had flown away, leaving behind two envelopes right over Minerva's plate.

Severus wondered aloud, "Pig headed excuse of a bird."

"You are right, that is Pig, Ron Weasley's barmy owl. Never got its direction clear...most curious, I was expecting...Severus, can I talk to you later on..." Excusing herself quite hastily, the deputy headmistress had left the lunch party or what was left of it. Moments later, the headmaster had felt the wards of the castle letting her pass through. Narrowing his brow, he had decided to finish off his meal at the behest of a miffed Madam Hooch. At least he could practice being polite.

When the witch had not returned by dusk, Snape had started worrying. He decided to check with the Weasley's first. Crouching in front of the fireplace, he was about to speak their address, when the flames lit up on their own and Molly Weasley's face appeared among the green flames. "Headmaster Snape, ah, there you are, if you please come along...Minerva is quite beyond herself…"

Snape had felt his throat tighten and had unceremoniously barked at the Weasley matriarch, "Back off" and moments later he was standing inside the living area of the Burrow. The war had made the stern Scottish woman wary of her bones. On several occasions, he had noticed how she would simply drop by citing lame excuses. He knew deep down she was checking on him. Without even getting sorted in her house, he had turned into one of her cubs. He knew she had failed to locate her favorite cub and he knew she needed him more than anything.

An hour later the most formidable wizard of Magical Britain stood in the shadows of a suburban locality. Hidden behind the bushes, he had his eyes trained at the carved-out land in between two houses. He had been there only once. To warn the muggle-born witch, that she was marked and that her parents' lives were in danger. She had thanked him in return and had shared a rather cryptic riddle. He was about to scold her and warn her it was not the time to play foolish games. But the clever girl had said, "if you ever come looking for me, you will remember where to look."

Looking straight ahead he had mumbled under his breath, "Hearth is the heart of this farmer's house." right in front of his eyes, the land raised up on its own and brick by brick, wood by wood, glass by glass, Dr. Grangers' house came into view. Looking around and finding no one actually watching the deserted street, he crossed it and walked right up to the front door. He was about to press the button, but the door had swung open, his wand had flown out of his hand, he had knelt down to grab the other which he always kept in his boot when Hermione Granger's 10¾" long vine wood poked him on his nose, and her steady voice greeted him, "If you are who I think you are, tell me about my birthmark!"