Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, they are JK's sob

A/N: This is my first fanfiction, so if you have any comments, I'd love to hear them! This fic is not HBP compliant in any way shape, or form. I really just wanted to do an SSHG relationship fic without having to deal with Dumbledore's death and all. So I basically just picked it up from the end of the fifth book, and it goes from there!

And without and further ado…

A Light in the Dark

Head Girl Hermione Granger traversed the dark hallways of Hogwarts in the middle of the night in search of her haven; the library. She knew that it was typical bookworm to make a trip to the library when sneaking out after curfew, but it was about more then books now. To her, it was a safe place, a constant in her life. Whenever she needed time alone or a place to think the library was always right there. Hermione took full advantage of that fact and spent many a night there after hours, reading, sleeping, and sometimes just sitting by the fire. All the years of having 'just one more chapter' to read before sleep had left her as a sort of insomniac. A few hours were all she needed. And people wondered how she always finished her mountains of homework.

As she walked, Hermione allowed her mind to wander, as it was apt to do on nights like this, back to two years ago, the spring of their fifth year, the year Voldemort was finally destroyed. She wrapped her cloak around her tighter, both against the chill of September nights, and the haunting memories. It had happened when her, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville had gone to the Ministry to stop Voldemort from getting a hold of the prophesy and to save Sirius. No one would have thought that would be the final battle, least of all Voldemort. Hermione remembered how they had found Voldemort behind the door Harry had dreamed about in the Department of Mysteries. They had stopped him from getting the prophesy, and then all Hell broke loose.

Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix poured into the Ministry, ready for a fight. Dumbledore led them and Sirius came as well, but unfortunately no one could save him when Bellatrix pushed him into the mirror. In a way, his death was necessary, because when Harry saw what happened, he went after Voldemort with a vengeance. The hatred he felt for Voldemort and his love for Sirius were almost palpable at that moment, and they gave him the strength he needed to defeat the Dark Lord.

It was surprisingly anti-climatic. There were no great explosions, last shouted words of hatred, or promises to haunt from the grave. There was only a blinding flash of green light and Voldemort just fell. He had finally been destroyed by The Boy Who Lived. The Death Eaters, realizing their lord was dead, tried to flee, but few of them got away. By that time they were far outnumbered as more Ministry officials ran in and took charge from there.

After that it was all a blur for Hermione. She vaguely remembered being admitted to St. Mungo's for treatment of a nasty curse, courtesy of Luscious Malfoy, and her parents making a few visits. Hermione remembered seeing others coming in after her. The casualties were surprisingly low, none from Hogwarts, though a handful of new recruits form the Order and Mad Eye Moody after he had been cornered by a dozen Death Eaters.

Dumbledore was gravely injured after taking a number curses to his no-longer-young body, and it seemed for a time like he would not make it. Thankfully he survived. The worst by far was Professor Snape. He had arrived partway through the battle, and when it was clear that he was fighting for Potter's side, many of the Death Eaters focused their attention on the traitor. Everyone thought that with all the curses, hexes, and even crucios he had suffered, he would surly die. Somehow tough he had managed to survive to continue teaching, much to the dismay of his students. He had not taught until the new term in her sixth year, and Hermione could remember seeing his hands shake even after so long.

Professor Snape. Now there was a confusing and complicated man. Many of his students, and the general public, had thought he was on Voldemort's side, but he surprised them all. Dumbledore had told her that it was because of Snape they even had a chance in the war at all, his spying had been invaluable to their cause. She had known that he was a spy for the Order, but not that he had been so important. For some reason, it had not surprised her, nor did the fact that he lived through it all. Snape seemed like the kind of man who if he saved you life, would live through a hundred crucios and never tell you, nor look for acknowledgment. He always played for the shadows, with neither side knowing who he is. Half the time not even the Order knew exactly what he was doing, only himself and Dumbledore.

Hermione could not help but respect him. He lived through Hell time after time, got tortured again and again, catered to the whim of people like Luscious Malfoy and never said a word. She knew that he had to have hated what he did as a Death Eater, else why would he have switched sides? Hermione turned a corner to the final stretch of hallways before the library and continued to ponder her professor.

It was not sympathy she felt for him, for she knew he would hate that, and yet it was more then respect. It was not that she had come to like him, she always had. Ever since first year, Hermione had seen the effectiveness of his teaching methods, even Neville had been able to pass. She had also greatly enjoyed his sly comments, although she was sure she was the only student to appreciate the humor and irony they were laced in. Hermione could never bring herself to join in her classmate's hatred for him; she just admired him too much to do so. Not that she would ever tell a soul, least of all Harry or Ron. Hermione shook her head, she did not want to have to deal with those two tonight.

Hermione let out a content sigh as her eyes alighted on the familiar library doors. Here she could dwell in a peaceful isolation, her worries of the day would fly away and she could finally think with a clear mind. Gods, she thought, two weeks into first term and I'm already sick of my housemates. This should be a fun year. Hermione reached the doors and whispered the password. Even being Head Girl did not grant her this, but Madam Pince was surprisingly careless when she thinks no one is around. Hermione only had to watch her lock up the library once under Harry's cloak to learn the password. Pince had not even bothered to change it for the new year; apparently students sneaking into the library were not such a big threat.

Hermione stepped into the quiet library and muttered an 'Incendio' at the fireplace, shutting the door behind her. She quickly walked over to her favorite table set close to the fire. Transfiguring the stiff wooden chair at the table into a more comfortable arm chair, Hermione sat and gazed into the roaring fire. Almost at once her thoughts turned to Wonder Boy and his sidekick. It seemed she would get no peace tonight.

The two people who used to bring Hermione so much happiness were now just two very sharp thorns in her side. It had all started after the defeat of Voldemort. Hermione just started feeling like a fifth wheel, like Harry and Ron just did not need her anymore. Well, except for homework. It seemed like that was the only time they bothered to talk to her. The rest of their time together was spent talking about Quidditch, oh joy of joys, or girls. They still ate together at the same table, still sat together during lessons, but the friendly banter was no longer there, and neither was the love.

It was strange, the Golden Trio was falling apart, but she did not care. It was not like she would miss her and Ron's arguments, nor Harry's sullen silences or moments of glory when he acted like he knew what was going on all the time. Truth be told, she was glad they had split up, now she could have real conversations about something other then Quidditch. But the problem was, with whom?

When Hermione started her sixth year, she realized how much she did not fit in with the rest of the students. The Gryffindor girls in her year drove her insane, especially Lavender. Really, there were things other then boys in the world! The boys in any year, even the Ravenclaws she was sad to find out, were obsessed with Quidditch, girls, or girls playing Quidditch. She could manage to draw a Ravenclaw into conversation about an intellectual subject, but even their knowledge did nothing to satisfy her needs. She needed someone she could talk to for hours without getting bored of Potions or Charms. Ginny would listen to her, but really she was just a mix between Lavender and Ron, obsessing equally over boys (Did you see Harry's hair today? I can't wait to see Harry again!) and Quidditch (Harry played such a great game against Hufflepuff!). Really, Hermione did not understand her attraction to either.

And then there were her parents. Hermione imagined what would happen if she went home one day and started asking her parents what she thought of Stennel's latest potion breakthrough, or the new version of Wolfsbane she heard rumour of. Hermione laughed at the thought, she could just see her parents sitting in their prim and proper kitchen with everything perfectly organized talking about potions! Yeah right, Hermione thought, If Dumbledore hadn't practically threatened them, I wouldn't even be here. She smiled at the memory. Hermione's parents were less-then-thrilled when they caught wind of Voldemort, courtesy of a letter form Ron when they had still been talking. Why he always had to re-live everything was beyond her.

Well when her parents got the whole story out of her, well a slightly abbreviated tale anyways, they had decided it in her best interest not to return to 'that awful place'. Hermione panicked. She could see her entire magical future falling away before her eyes. She had owled Dumbledore, begging for him to help her. Thankfully, he had gotten out of St. Mungo's earlier that week and at agreed to help.

Dumbledore showed up that Saturday, when he was sure that Hermione's parents would be there and not at work, in full wizard regalia. He had eaten lunch with Hermione and her parents and the whole time talked about Voldemort, his defeat, and what a great future Hermione had in store for her. Even so, her parents protested that she could be great in the muggle world too, and remained unconvinced. Dumbledore seemed to give in at that point, but Hermione could tell from the twinkle in his eye that he was just going in for the kill.

'Well,' he had sighed, 'if that's what you think is best for Hermione, so be it, I will not force you to let her go. However, there is a certain Transfiguration professor who is itching to have her favorite Gryffindor in her class, and Hermione is best friends with the wizard who killed Voldemort. As I said, I will not force you to let her go, but I cannot guarantee that when she is not on the train to Hogwarts, they will. Thank you for the lovely lunch, and Miss Granger, I hope I will see you in September."

With that he had apparated away, and her parents were left to imagine what the wizards would do when they came to get her. They were not people to risk having a bunch of wizards storming their house and so let her go in September. When she walked into the Great Hall upon arriving, she caught Dumbledore's eyes and he gave her a smile and an eye twinkle.

So no, Hermione and her parents defiantly would not be having a heart-to-heart any time soon. She was alone. In a school of thousands of people, Hermione Granger was all alone.

She did not mind really, most of the time. It gave her ample time to work on her studies, but she could only bother McGonagall so much for a chat, and Hermione had no one else to talk to. That was the worst part. What was the point of knowing so much if you could not even talk about it?

Hermione continued to gaze into the fire as she let her thoughts grow dark. What was the point of doing anything if no one cares? Why would anyone care? She was just a bookworm who knew too much for her own good. She would just end up some middle-aged hag with a dozen cats who never married and spends all her time reading alone at the library. Sometimes, she wished that Malfoy had used a stronger curse when he attacked her…

She shook her head. Hermione knew that was a dangerous path to tread, especially when she was alone at night. She stood up and walked over to the bookshelves determined to get those dark thoughts out of her head. Maybe tonight she would read up on those spells Flitwick had told her about to charm an electronic object to work on magic. One could learn to miss music when at Hogwarts; she had to hear some Beatles.

Hermione had only located and gotten through the first chapter of the book before she heard a deep voice behind her. "Well, well, what have we here? A student out after curfew? Now, that just won't work.'

Hermione jumped out of her seat in surprise and spun around to see Professor Snape standing behind her chair and looking pleased to have caught a student out so late. She was about to stammer out an apology when he cut her off, "Oh, it's you, Miss Granger. I thought it was some mindless dunderhead vandalizing library books.'

He then sat down in a nearby chair and put the book Hermione just noticed he was carrying on the table. She was about to try and apologize again and get away as quickly as possible, she might respect Snape but did not want to meet him in a dark room at night, but her eye caught the title of the book on the cover. 'Is that-"

'Yes, Miss Granger, the title does not lie; it is Stennel's newest edition. And no, I did not get it in Hogsmeade.'

'Oh wow,' Hermione breathed as she moved to sit in the chair across from his, her own book lying forgotten on the table. This book supposedly held the method for making a potion that would make the user able to resist the Dementor's affects. All in theory, of course, even such a renowned Potions Master as Stennel could not get away with making that potion. 'I've only been able to read about in my Potions magazines, I haven't been able to get a hold of the book. The controversy has a lot of stores unwilling to carry it. Tell, me, do you think it will work?'

Hermione looked up form the book and into Snape's eyes. He was giving her a weird look, almost as if he was wondering why she was talking to him, but he quickly masked it. 'Miss Granger, you have just been caught out of bed at 12:30 in the morning and you are asking me about a book?' He snapped at her.

Hermione shrank back in her chair as his voice cut like a whip around her. 'Well, it's just, I've wanted to read it since I heard of the theory…and I just wondered…I'm sorry sir, what time should I report for detention?'

'Never mind Miss Granger, tell me, where did you hear about this book?'

Hermione's head shot up. He was not giving her detention? Snape? Passing on making a student's life Hell? 'Wait,' she said, 'I'm not getting a detention?'

'Not unless you want one, Miss Granger.' Snape replied, 'It's not often that a student sneaks out to read, and uses a spell to transfigure her chair that has not been put on the syllabus.' He gave her a smirk and she blushed a little, grateful for the semi-darkness. 'Now,' he said in a commanding tone, 'Where did you hear about this book?'

'Potions Weekly, sir.' Hermione answered. 'I get it delivered.'

'And you understand the articles in it?' He asked.

'Why would I get it otherwise?' Hermione covered her mouth and looked up at Snape in horror, fully expecting a lashing for the comment that just slipped out, but he was looking over her shoulder and into the fire.

'Indeed,' he said, and Hermione relaxed, realizing that the professor was probably drugged and she was not going to be penalized. 'So tell me, Miss Granger,' he looked from the fire and back into her eyes with a strange intensity, 'What did you think of the idea when you first read about it?'

'Well, at first I thought it was impossible because you would have to erase the bad memories to work, because then you could not remember anything bad and the Dementors would have no effect. But then, how could you manage to target these memories when they are different for each person? It's not like a memory charm when you can just choose a certain memory to erase, potions have to be general. I've heard of very few potions that deal with memories.

'The longer I thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. I tried to get more information on it, but I couldn't find anything. I couldn't ask anyone about it either; I was in a muggle town with no wizards in sight, really frustrating.

'Anyways, I kept thinking about it and I figured out that it didn't erase and memories at all. It doesn't even have anything to do with memories. The only other thing that I could think of was that it stimulated happy thoughts and feelings so that the power of the Dementors was overridden.'

'And you figured all this out on your own?' Snape asked.

'Except for the original article, yes.'

'Well, Miss Granger, that is how the potion works, but can you tell the ingredients necessary?'

'I think I figured out some of them,' Hermione said, becoming more comfortable by the minute know that they were talking about an exceedingly interesting topic. 'I know that there are probably Ashwinder eggs, they would give off the feeling of love, though it would have to be diluted with Grindylow finger whose aggressive nature towards anything would keep the feeling of love from attaching to a sentient being. There would also have to be poppy leaves, because they create a sense of euphoria. I'm not sure if that would be strong enough. Maybe if the base was a calming draught so that the user would not panic at the emotions and memories trying to break free…then the eggs could be added, though they would have to be left for a month for the draught to absorb the effects. Then the Grindylow, and after that the poppies…I'm not sure, but theoretically it seems like it would work…'

Hermione looked back into Snape's face. Her eyes had wandered over the room as she thought, as though looking to the thousands of volumes for help. Snape was giving her that strange look again, as though she had just discovered how to make gold. She grew uncomfortable under his gaze as she waited for a reply. Suddenly she felt so stupid, how could those ingredients work? And why would a Potions Master be asking her? He probably knew already and just wanted to see her screw up.

'Well, Miss Granger,' Hermione tensed and waited for the sharp retort, 'That is essentially it. There are other details, of course, other ingredients and preparations, but those are the basics. Except for the calming draught. It would turn volatile when used with another key ingredient used later on. Well done.'

Hermione started at him. It was the end of the world. Here she was, sitting in the library with Snape at nearly one in the morning, and they were talking about potions! And he just complimented her! Talk about falling down the rabbit hole, this was bizarre! Snape had to be drugged, that was the only solution.

'Er…thank-you, professor.' Hermione stammered, the happiness she would have otherwise felt at being right (again) was being squashed by the weirdness of the situation. 'So,' she said when it was apparent he was not going to ask her anything further, 'How did you get the book? I had not heard of one store in 50 leagues that was carrying it.'

'I am a Potions Master, Miss Granger,' Snape said, looking down his nose at her, 'I have more then one way to get certain volumes. But you are obviously aware of the controversy surrounding this text; do you think this potion should be made?'

'Honestly, I don't know a lot about the problems with it, I mean some are obvious, like the fact that prisoners could use it to escape, but there must be more to it? Could you tell me, sir?'

Snape looked at her for a moment as if wondering whether he wanted to be drawn further into a conversation, but decided that ignorance was a terrible thing and so granted her request. 'Well, criminals could use it, yes, but with all the security they have at Azkaban, that is the lease of their problems. One major issue is that the potion is potentially addictive. You could never know fully, but the ingredients used suggest that it could happen. Especially the poppy leaves mixed with Ashwinder. There are some visitors who frequent on a regular basis, and the Ministry does not want people showing up to Azkaban just for a fix.

'There is also the affect on could have on the Dementors.'

'Wait, the Dementors, sir? But I thought they could only be harmed by the Patronus charm.'

'No, they can only be drive off entirely by it. But you have to see that if you used this potion, the happiness would be fairly dripping off you. With all this joy in the air, the Dementors powers could potentially be lessened. This would be a bigger problem then one prisoner getting a hold of a vial, if the power of the Dementors lessened enough, then any number of people could get out, and you defiantly do not want a half-crazed Luscious Malfoy wandering around loose.'

'No, that would not be good.' Hermione said, thinking. 'Sir, do you think the potion should be made? Even an experimental one?'

'No. I do not think that this book should have been published. Even if it turned out not to be addictive or decrease the Dementors' powers, all it would do is make Azkaban seem like a less fearful place. That's the prison's power, the terrifying fear of maybe having to go there for a stint. If it was suddenly just a place where you could go to feel like you're on cloud nine, well…'

Hermione had not thought about that. It made sense though. If Azkaban was being compared to fluffy puppies, there would be many more Voldemort wanna bes hanging around. 'When you put it that way, it seems like a more dangerous potion then what you read about.'

'Never underestimate the power of a potion, Miss Granger.'

'Of course not sir, after all, they can bottle fame, brew glory,-'

'And even stopper death. Your mind does soak up everything, doesn't it?'

Hermione blushed. Was Snape actually joking with her? He seemed to be in a good mood, so Hermione decided to try and push her luck. 'Well, only what's worthy. Speaking of which, I heard that there is a new Wolfsbane potion that was being developed. You created the first, did you not, sir?'

Snape looked into her eyes, surprised. 'It seems Miss Granger that you know more about current potions then most Masters. Is it the only subject that you receive magazines for?'

'Well, I get the most for potions because there is always something new going on in the field, but I also get a few for Arithmancy, Charms, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes.'

'Interesting. But to your original question, yes, I did develop the original, and I have heard that there is an advancement being worked on, but I know the man who is doing it, Patrick Mather, and I know that he will not succeed. The man got through his apprenticeship by giving his Master shiny cauldrons from his father's vault, a much more deserving Master then he is.'

'Why don't you think he will be able to do it? Purely because of his lack of talent, or has it something to do with the potion?'

'Ah, always looking deeper then others will. No, it's not just his utter and total lack of competence, it is also the potion, although, I will give him a lot of credit. But you see, the Wolfsbane is very complex, took me years to do. The problem lies in the moon, when it comes time to add the fourth ingredient…'

They sat like that for hours, Hermione in her comfortable transfigured chair, Snape in a stiff library style one. The fire crackled near them as they discussed the Wolfsbane, Stennel, the newest charms, most effective Arithmancy methods, and everything in between. Hermione was surprised how easy it was to talk to this man. He was willing to speak on any subject that she brought up, and add to it greatly as well. His mind was truly amazing, it seemed like he knew about everything. Never was he at a loss for an opinion or random fact. It was the first time in months Hermione had been able to talk like this, and their conversation was like an oasis in the desert.

It was only when they heard Peeves crashing around down the corridor that the two were broken from the spell. Snape looked at the black leather wind up watch he wore and cursed lightly under his breath. 'It seems, Miss Granger,' he spoke in those deep tones that had captivated her for some time that night, 'That I have kept you late. It is past three, and I'm sure that you need sleep for all that revision you have no doubt begun.'

Hermione blushed once more. It was true, she had begun revising already. 'Well, you can never be too prepared, sir. I suppose I should be getting back to my rooms then.'

'Yes that would probably be the best.'

Still neither of them moved out of their chairs. There was silence for a moment as they both stared off into nothing until Snape spoke, 'I thank you for the conversation, Miss Granger. Too often I am here at night with only books to share my theories with.'

Hermione smiled at the obvious hint. 'As am I, sir, and I thank you for sharing your theories with me this time. Good night.'

Hermione left the library and made her way back to her rooms. If she had not gone mad, she would have said that she had just enjoyed a very long and wonderful conversation with Professor Snape, and he had, in his own way, told her he would be willing to talk again. Ironically, this man in black was like a light in the dark. He gave her just what she needed at a time when she needed it most. The loneliness that had been so strong mere hours earlier had lifted a bit, and she walked with a spring in her step as she thought of the prospect of another talk with the professor. Yes, she had most defiantly gone mad.

Snape sat in his chair until the fire had dyed out. Then he began the long walk back to the dungeons, all the while contemplating what the Hell was wrong with him. He had just had an extensive conversation with Head Girl Hermione Granger, shared his theories and even joked, at one in the morning. And later, he thought.

Why had he done that? Why not just give the girl a detention and let the world keep spinning? He just had to let her see that book! He should have known that she would know about it, but it was how much she knew that surprised him. Many things did tonight, like her vast knowledge on every subject taught at Hogwarts, with the exception of Divination. They had both agreed that Trelawney could not predict her way out of a wet paper bag. Snape chuckled at the memory of Hermione's face when he first mentioned Divination. It was priceless!

Wait, he thought, I just laughed because a student made a face that had nothing to do with someone else's pain and/or suffering! Well, unless you call Divination painful, which it is, but still! What was the world coming to? Snape was enjoying his time spent with Hermione. Actually, it had been the best time he had in quite a while. It was like the teachers here never bothered to look up anything unless it had to do with their subject, and he could only talk to McGonagall about Transfiguration for so long. The girl just started talking to him, and once he started could not stop. It had been so long since he could just talk to someone without them running in fear of the 'greasy bat'. He had not been able to do that in years.

Since he became a spy for Dumbledore, he had to act like a bastard to everyone, even the faculty. That made him unpopular very quickly, and gave him the perfect image for 'evil' that would be associated with a Death Eater. He had been so good at it he even fooled Voldemort.

All those years, he could only think of what he would be rather doing then yelling at the students, like helping them for a change. True, they were a pathetic lot when it came to potions making, especially Longbottom. Snape shuddered, if there was a way to get him out of is classes for good, Snape would pay a thousand galleons. But some of the students could at least be decent, if he was allowed to act like a real teacher. But instead, he just had to glower and yell, and well that was fun to do to Potter and Weasley, he wished he could have given students like Hermione a better chance.

Back to Hermione again, I see, Snape thought as he approached the corridor to his rooms. He reached for the handle on his classroom door when his hand froze. He had invited her to talk again. Well, it was subtle, but that girl would no doubt pick it up. And if he was not mistaken, she returned his sentiments. Oh crap, he thought, he had invited Hermione to speak with him again, and while that should have filled him with dread, he was just nervous. And excited. Excited that maybe he would get to talk about that new Rune they had just deciphered and he had not gotten to bring up. Snape opened the door and proceeded to his office and then personal chambers as he thought of what he and Hermione could talk about.

Snape did not stop listing the articles to bring until his head hit the pillows and he was sound asleep with a smile on his face. His lonely world seemed brighter, and a bushy-haired girl was his light.