Strange

I will never be able to thank my beautiful beta, s and h forever, and my wonderful friends enough for their support.

“You try to lift me, I don’t get better. What’s making you happy is making me sadder. In your golden cage all I feel is strange.” (Strange, by Tokio Hotel)

A little over three and a half months had passed, and there seemed to be no relief in sight for Hermione. She never would have imagined that Snape’s daily attacks would have lasted this long or have been this brutal. At first, she thought she could just wait it out, let him avenge whatever his grievances were on her, and move on, but it was clear now that there were no limits to his hate. Each day’s class was worse than the last, even more confusing and painful.

Some days, he just completely ignored her, even though it was obvious to anyone with a pulse that Hermione was the only one paying attention to their professor’s lectures. She used to fight it, sitting at her table, waving her arm around like a lunatic, but he would continue to scan the classroom, looking right through her as if she weren’t even there. Harry and Ron even stopped speaking up in her defense, fearing that, if they continued, Gryffindor wouldn’t have any House Points left by the end of term. It was humiliating for Hermione to be treated thus, and most days, she simply stopped raising her hand.

Of course, in true Snape style, these were the very days he chose to call on her. He never asked her about topics remotely related to the sixth year Potions curriculum; she doubted the information he required of her was even taught at the apprentice level. In her mind, she imagined Snape poring over ancient, mildewed Potions texts that no one even read anymore, finding countless questions with which to stump her. Admitting defeat when he asked such questions of her was disparaging enough, but his snide comments that accentuated her failure were intolerable. Even the Slytherins in her class section were sympathetic.

Hermione had never been so unsure about anything in her life and was consumed by her thoughts of Severus Snape and his anger. They distracted her from her classes and kept her up at night. The Hogwarts faculty became worried as they noticed the slip in their star student’s grades, but their concerns were nothing compared to the discomfort felt by Harry and Ron at the loss of their friend’s sanity. They knew Dumbledore should be informed of what was happening, but they needed a way to convince Hermione to tell him.

*******

Potions that chilled December morning was as miserable as had been expected, and Hermione all but flew out the door the minute class was dismissed. Ron and Harry knew exactly where to find her and headed up to their common room. It was time to take action. They discovered Hermione sitting in her usual chair in front of the fire, gazing into it as if searching for answers. Harry cleared his throat before addressing her.

“So, rough class again today.” Great, Harry thought to himself. Way to start of the conversation; make Hermione remember how miserable she is. Good one.

Harry was expecting Hermione to leap out of her chair and start yelling at him, but he only received a comatose “yeah” in return. With her practically being a zombie, he decided that it was safe to continue.

”Uh... Hermione, Ron and I were thinking that this whole Snape-being-a-git thing has gone way too far, and that you should... uh... tell Dumbledore what’s been going on.”

Finally acting as though she was aware of the conversation, Hermione’s head snapped up, and she glared at Harry and Ron. They fell silent immediately, almost as if they had just been petrified by a Basilisk.

“I’m fine. I can handle this. I don’t need your help. I don’t need to tell Dumbledore anything.” Her voice was dark and strong, warning them not to push her any farther.

“We know you don’t want to,” Harry added, “but don’t you think this has gone on long enough? You know you’re not yourself. Dumbledore could set Snape straight in a second! We’re just so worried about you, Hermione.”

Although she saw the worry on their faces, Hermione wasn’t ready to give in just yet. She didn’t exactly like the idea of making matters worse for herself. “So what? You want me to rat out Snape? Sign my own death notice? Are you CRAZY? I can’t give Snape another reason to hate me. You’ve had some stupid ideas over the past five years, but congratulations, you’ve outdone yourself this time. Please, will you both just leave me alone?” All Hermione wanted now was some time to think, but Harry had a much different idea.

“I didn’t want it to come down to this,” Harry began somewhat shakily, afraid of incurring Hermione’s wrath, “but if you won’t tell Dumbledore... I will.” Hermione chuckled menacingly in reply.

“Will you stop running around trying to save everyone? I know you’re the ‘Chosen One’ and everything, but I will be fine.” Harry just stared at her blankly in return, unresponsive. Hermione’s listless gaze met his for a brief moment before she continued.

“For God’s sake, you’re really going to make me do this aren’t you, Harry?” Hermione sighed in resignation, realizing that it would be better telling Dumbledore in her own fashion than to let ‘wonder boy’ barge in to her rescue. “Fine, but you have to let me handle this the way I want it done. I’ll write Dumbledore asking to meet with him after the Christmas break, since we leave in a couple of days anyway. Then I’ll tell him everything. Okay?”

“That’s wonderful, Hermione. So, are you going to write that letter now?” Harry asked, hoping that she wouldn’t think he didn’t trust her; his enthusiasm could be taken the wrong way.

“Alright, Harry, if it makes you feel better.” She was touched by his insistence; it showed her that he truly cared. “Do you mind if I borrow Hedwig? I don’t really like using the school owls.”

Harry was about to respond, but was quickly interrupted by Ron.

“Well, that’s what you get for buying that stupid cat of yours instead of a proper owl!” Ron looked around nervously, as if Crookshanks would leap out and attack him at any moment.

“Oh, right, Ron, because your pet ‘rat’ was sooooo much better. Last time I checked, Crookshanks isn’t secretly a man, and he hasn’t helped the Dark Lord return... or betrayed any of our friend’s parents, or helped almost kill Harry, or —”

“You’ve made your point, Hermione.” Ron sat back down in his chair, demoralized yet again by Hermione’s acerbic wit.

After sending off her note to Dumbledore with Hedwig, Hermione went up to her dorm for a nap, feeling the most relaxed that she had all term. She drifted off to sleep, hopeful that her trials with Snape were finally at an end, while trying to ignore the annoying, tugging feeling in the pit of her stomach; she still felt as though there was so much she didn’t understand.

The Christmas holiday couldn’t come soon enough.