Unwell

Disclaimer: Characters and... well, characters belong to J.K. Rowling. This crazy plot belongs to me. Heh.

Chapter Seven: Unwell

-~-

Hallows' Eve was in a short week. Hermione could barely even concentrate on her studies (a rare occurrence) because of all the last minute planning with Blaise and Professor McGonagall. She had thought the planning would take her mind off things, but she was quite mistaken. The Prefects would help out sometimes, but their main event would be monitoring during said masquerade...a job not well sought after. Hermione above all people knew how inconvenient and utterly embarrassing it was to break up canoodling couples. Especially when they were people she knew.

Ron had taken up with a sixth-year Hufflepuff only a week after their row, and Hermione was okay with that. However, seeing them snogging full on in the hallways and after hours like he did with Lavender Brown was simply nauseating. He still thought she was lying through her teeth.

"Why would I lie about something like that?" she muttered to herself during a Charms lesson, Harry by her side.

"You wouldn't," he whispered back to her. She froze, not realizing that she had said it aloud. He put a hand on the small of her back as she cupped her forehead in one hand, "Hermione, we have to talk about it sometime soon." He looked over to Ron who was sitting as far away from the two of them as possible, next to Ernie MacMillan. Neville had joked that it was rather fitting, two pompous gits keeping each other company.

"This afternoon, after classes?" She searched his face for an answer.

"Quidditch practice," he said, rubbing her back apologetically.

"Well, sometime, then. I don't want you to think I won't tell you..." she said to her Charms notebook while flipping through the dilapidated pages.

"I haven't been speaking to Ron."

"Oh, don't do that!" she nearly exclaimed. "This is between the two of us."

He shrugged with a frown that could only mean he was slightly offended. "This is between all three of us, Hermione. For the past six years I have been watching you two bickering over the smallest things, waiting for you to just jump one another when the time came. But... now, it's much bigger than that, and Ron has dug himself a hole that he will not climb out of." He whispered angrily. "You're like a sister to me, and I'm not going to give respect to someone who humiliates my family."

I love you dearly, she said with her eyes.

"Although, since I'm marrying his sister, some level of cordiality will have to remain... for my sanity, at least."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh, you heard me!" He smiled.

"That's wonderful, Harry! I didn't know Ginny and you were getting together so..."

"Miss Granger!" Professor Flitwick squeaked affectionately, his stubby finger pressed to his lips.

"Apologies, Professor." She couldn't help but smile.

"This summer. I want you to be there," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

-o-

That day after classes, Hermione sat in Hagrid's hut, drinking a large portion of coffee with the gentle half-giant. She had decided that taking the afternoon off was a marvelous idea.

"'Ermione! 'Ow are yeh, silly girl?" he had boomed jovially when she knocked on his door an hour or so earlier.

"Oh, I'm getting by. And how are you, Hagrid?" She'd smiled widely as he peered down through his matted beard, his beady black eyes twinkling in the afternoon light.

"Come in, come in! We should do some catchin' up, if I do say so meself."

She had nodded and welcomed herself in, collapsing into the oversized lazy boy in front of the fireplace. Fang had loped toward her, slobber hanging from his droopy cheeks. He had rested his head in her lap, letting the drool soak into her pleated skirt. And Hagrid had taken the seat across from her and had handed her a generous cup of Columbian coffee.

So here they were...just the two of them...for the first time in years.

"Cake?" He thrusted a box towards her.

"Oh, no thanks, Hagrid." I'd much prefer to keep my molars intact. Much to her satisfaction, an unnerving crack was heard from the back of Hagrid's mouth, and he quickly retreated off the sweets. She tried to subtly push Fang off of her, the circulation quite gone from her right leg.

"Geroff 'er! Fang!" He pulled the dog's tail and the creature dolefully backed into a corner. "Where's 'Arry and Ron, 'Ermione?" he asked as he gulped down half of his cup.

"Harry's supervising Quidditch practice and Ron is..." she trailed off.

"Yeh've 'ad a row, then?"

"Is it that obvious?" she sighed, looking up at her former professor...her friend.

"Well, er, no. No' exactly. Severus was talking abou' it th'other day. Seemed qui' angry, 'e was. Somethin' 'bou' Ron humiliatin' yer in fron' o' the class?"

Hermione's stomach turned over. "I'd rather not discuss it. You can find out from someone else, 'cause everyone is talking about it."

"Wha'd he say, 'Ermione?"

Hermione sighed. "Basically, that I was a bloody tart because I wouldn't marry him on the spot. Things like that."

"Wha' 'bou' yer... predicament?" For someone as subtle as a mountain troll, Hagrid sure knew when to be careful around Hermione.

She snorted in indifference.

"S'a big deal, I think."

"I've gotten used to it." She looked out the window, trying to will the tears not to spill over the brim as a wave of self-loathing hit her.

"No, y'aven't."

"No. I haven't."

"Don't mean tha' anyone has the right to hate yeh fer it."

"I think it's more than that... I don't know." She rubbed her temples.

"I'm sorry, 'Ermione. Yer so young, and yeh've had t' deal with so much so far." He looked down at her.

She stood. "Thank you, Hagrid. But I really must be going. I've... studying and... things to do."

"'F course," He clomped over to the door and opened it to the cool autumn air. Hermione breathed deeply as the smell of wet leaves and earth filled her nostrils. She stepped down the stair and turned to look at him as she backed away.

"Enough pumpkins in the patch for the ball, Hagrid?" she shouted as the distance between them broadened.

"Four 'undred er so!" He beamed at her. She waved and turned back towards the castle. Maybe she could make it up to Gryffindor Tower and take a peek at her potion before dinner.

--

It was one long week before Hallows' Eve. Severus looked at the clock yet again, willing the hands to move faster as his last class of the day continued to destroy more cauldrons and waste more precious ingredients.

Just then, another pair decided it would be funny to spill their sordid mixture into the lap of an innocent bystander. The girl began to cry, the stench making others gag and heave as she ran towards him. Nearly retching himself, he sent her sprinting to the bathroom to wash the horrid concoction off and soon dismissed the class to escape the contaminated classroom.

Minutes later, he stormed out of the castle, delighting in the fresh air and pleasant smell of autumn. A leisurely walk to Hogsmeade would be excellent. He checked his pockets for Galleons and then set off to think about things.

Along the way, he passed a clearing in the forest where the thestrals were hitched to the carriages at the start and end of each term. A thestral foal trotted about in the usual loping gait that is characteristic of such beings, whinnying...or squawking, whichever way you look at it...for its mother. Feeling an inexplicable paternal feeling, he veered off course and soon met the colt as it whipped about, repelling flies and other creatures of the forest.

"Quite alone, aren't you?" he spoke to it. The grotesque thing looked up at him with milky eyes and exhaled with a puff of hot air. "I know the feeling." He stroked the prominent spine where a traditional horse would have a mane. The colt showed his appreciation by stretching his neck out, leaning into his easing hands like a dog. "I wish I had some sustenance for you of some kind..." he murmured apologetically.

"I do, Professor." A dreamy voice called out behind him. Severus whirled around only to find Luna Lovegood, barefoot and carrying a heinous purse that hung around her neck. She pulled a piece of raw steak from the very same bag and threw it into the air. The thestral leapt in delight and caught the meat in his mouth, flitting about above the ground as he consumed it rather greedily.

"A regular Friday afternoon, Miss Lovegood?" he asked defensively.

"Oh, no." She looked dazed as she said with a sigh, "I only come out here when my friends have found other things to occupy their time than spend it with me." Her bluntness earned her an evasive throat clearing from the man standing next to her. "Do you come out here often, sir?"

"Not at all; it was just a passing fancy."

"Oh. Well, then you should probably return to whatever you were planning to do or those pesky Pronged Trimbles might crawl into your ears and cause you to forget why or where you were going. They are awfully attracted to 'passing fancies.'"

Snape cocked an eyebrow at her and bowed deeply to her. For an often confused and misled girl, she had aptitude for thought-provocation as well as a natural talent of unnerving others immensely with a few short words. He held her in a high regard for this, despite her queerness.

"With that, I must bid you adieu." He turned and set out at a quick pace to Hogsmeade. He had wasted time with this 'passing fancy' and now he would only have time to buy some tea and a few new quills before returning to meet with Mr. Weasley for his third detention.

Weasley, he growled as the caustic brawl of earlier that month floated into the forefront of his mind. Hermione had rarely left his thoughts since the event (not that she had been absent beforehand), and he was aware that the Severus Snape he knew did not dwell over the melodramas of teenage girls. Something was terribly wrong with him...nothing that a nice, long, torturous detention couldn't handle.

A/N: Muahaha! Evil!Snape. Or is it... Compassionate/Concerned/Pensive!Snape? Well, we've not found out much about Hermione's "predicament" as everyone calls it. Man, if I were Hermione I'd want to Kedavra myself every time someone said that! But of course, she's too busy wallowing in/neglecting her own problems to be concerned with word choice. R&R, please!

Thanks to Ladyinthecloak/Karelia for helping me out with my spectacular grammar!