Insight

Ron was grumbling to himself as he walked briskly back to the castle from the Quidditch pitch. He and Harry had been in the midst of a half-hearted game of catch-the-snitch when the inevitable argument had broken out. Honestly! You'd think, after seven years, Harry and 'Mione would've figured out when things grew heated he said the most stupid arse things imaginable!

Until this year, it hadn't seemed to bother his friends much that he had permanent foot-in-mouth disease. He'd tried to rein in his stupid tongue, but growing up with five older brothers made rude and ridiculous comments a hard habit to break. Before now, Hermione always seemed to understand that. Sure, they argued like grims and kneazels, but it was never serious. At least, it hadn't been until that last day. If he could take that fight back, he'd do it in an instant. At the time, it never occurred to him that she was actually serious--the way she'd been venting reminded him of her S.P.E.W. campaign. Ron wondered idly what silly name Hermione would've come up with for the Snape campaign. Save Nasty Old Teacher, perhaps?

Bugger all! Hermione would never realize why he hated the bat-robed prat. Ron understood better than Harry why Hermione fancied the great git. Snape was as intelligent and bookish as she was, and that was saying a lot. A strategist himself, Ron was well aware that Snape was brave and resourceful during the war. Ron even allowed that Snape, regardless of his personal feelings, had no choice but to treat the Gryffindor trio with the utmost contempt. A Death Eater spy couldn't be seen treating Gryffindors with anything resembling fairness. In truth, Ron understood much more than his riotous mouth ever let on. Despite this hidden understanding, Ron hated Snape with a passion. He hated the nasty bugger for one unchanging reason: Snape made Hermione cry.

Ron would never forgive himself that fateful time first year, when his thoughtless commentary had left Hermione crying in the girl's toilet. Not only had he been mortified by hurting her feelings, he'd almost gotten her killed by a mountain troll. Since that day, he had become rampantly protective of her. No matter how they argued, or how seemingly careless his remarks, he'd never again made such a bitingly nasty comment as that one.

Snape did. During their first five years at Hogwarts, Snape made some of the most devastatingly personal verbal attacks Ron had ever heard--and he made them to Hermione. Ron realized this had changed somewhat during the past two years. Though Snape still threw barbed remarks Hermione's way, the comments themselves were more witty and less harmful. It was probably the closest to playful teasing the dreary man got.

Even so, Ron would never forget that the man had made Hermione cry, nor would he forgive him for it; just as he would never forgive himself.

Ron's reverie came to an abrupt end as he rounded the corner of Hagrid's hut, coming upon a strange sight. The chess-playing, strategic part of his brain began analyzing the odd data laid out before it.

A coal-black unicorn was staggering about on three legs, screaming, as the upset gamekeeper vainly tried to corner it. Ron's brain revealed several things to him. The unicorn's leg was broken...unicorns usually loved Hagrid, yet this one was creating an amazing fuss...but it wasn't trying to escape back to the forest (in spite of the fact that it kept glancing back at the trees)...there was no such thing as a black unicorn.

The random pieces floating in Ron's mind put themselves into order. Bloody hell!

"Hagrid, stop!" Ron shouted. "That's not a unicorn!"

The unicorn stared at him, with an easily readable expression of amazement.

"Hagrid," Ron looked to the half-giant earnestly, "trust me on this one, please. Get the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey right away."

"I'll trust ye, Ron. But I'll be wantin' an explanation after."

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Hagrid headed for the hearth in his hut to floo the Headmaster. In a moment, Albus' head stared at him from the flames.

"Sorry t'bother yer, Headmaster, sir, but there's summat young Ronald Weasley thought yer should know. There's a unicorn down here wi' a broken leg. 'E won't let me touch 'im." Hagrid explained.

Albus' eyes widened. "A unicorn, Rubeus? What color unicorn?"

Hagrid was amazed by the seemingly unnecessary question; all unicorns were white unless they were young. How had the Headmaster known? "Tha's the odd thing, sir. The strange beastie's black."

"Merlin's teeth!" barked Albus. "Hagrid, don't let him leave. I'll fetch Poppy and we'll be right down. Don't try to catch him, my boy. That's not a unicorn."

"Everyone keeps sayin' tha'...but does anyone explain..." Hagrid complained as Albus' head disappeared with a pop.

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While Hagrid spoke with his boss' disembodied head, Ron regarded the upset unicorn gravely. "Professor Snape, sir?"

The unicorn stared, then inclined his head in an elegant nod that was remarkably familiar.

"Sir, where is Hermione?"

The equine Snape spun on three legs and began trotting awkwardly towards the forest.

Ron quickly outpaced him to block his path. "I know you want to return to her, Professor. I'd like to go, as well. But we'll all go faster if you wait to get your leg healed. Madame Pomfrey is on her way," Ron said, with admirable calm.

Professor Snape hesitated a long moment as he gazed into the wood. Then, with a sigh, looked back to Ron and nodded his head.

"Professor, if you're an Animagus, why don't you change back?"

Severus gave a disgusted snort, then hung his head, nose almost touching the ground.

"You're stuck then...right. Is Hermione ok?"

Severus raised his head to look into Ron's eyes. Ron had never realized how sorrowful the eyes of an animal could appear.

"Right then...I'll take that as a no. Is she..." Ron couldn't say the word he thought. He felt as if saying the word 'dead' out loud would turn the nightmarish idea into reality. "Is she...alive?" he finished softly.

Severus whinnied and tossed his head in an emphatic "yes."

"She must be hurt bad then...if you left her." The phrase was only half questioning. With a small, tight nod of the head, Professor Snape confirmed his fears.

"Don't worry, Professor, we'll get to her," Ron said in a kind tone, which Severus had certainly never heard him use in his presence. Severus took a few shaky steps up to Ron, gazing into his eyes intently, then put his head over Ron's shoulder, resting it there.

Ron remembered from Hagrid's classes that this was a unicorn's sign of trust. Pushing aside his hatred, Ron raised a wary hand to pat his Potions Professor's furry neck. "We'll get to her," he repeated. Idly, he thought, "Well...I can always go back to hating him later. It's just hard to do when he's obviously so upset about 'Mione."

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The Fates were working overtime that day. Heading back from the Quidditch pitch, Harry rounded the corner of Hagrid's hut just as Albus and Poppy arrived. Hagrid led them all back near the garden where Ron and Severus waited impatiently. Without hesitation, Ron became Severus' voice. Having always believed the youngest Weasley male to be a bit of a dunderhead, the equine Potions Master was stunned by how clearly and concisely the usually excitable red-head explained the situation.

Harry was unsurprised. While Ron was hopelessly dramatic in trivial matters, during a crisis he turned clear-headed and exacting. When Ron had directed the chess game hurdle on the way to the sorcerer's stone first year, he'd been absurdly calm, his speech had become almost elegant. Harry often thought it was a pity he didn't behave that way always.

In no time at all, the group disappeared into the forest, chasing after the healed unicorn as he rushed back to his Hermione.

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Arriving where Severus had left Hermione, the rescuers met an odd sight. There was nothing there but an abandoned knapsack and a pile of black clothes. The humans in the party were surprised anew when Albus said, "Ah...there she is," and kneeling where Severus snuffled at the ground, removed the invisibility cloak to reveal Hermione. She remained as she was when Severus had left her. Pale and unconscious, had Madame Pomfrey not assured them Hermione still lived, they would never have known it.

"Headmaster, we must get her to the hospital wing right away. She's alive, but that's a severe trauma to the head. She requires immediate care," the mediwitch explained.

"I'll set up a portkey, Poppy. We can all get back to the gates quickly," Albus replied. Picking up a stone, he waved his wand over it, eyes closed in concentration as he cast. Finishing, he gave a concerned look at Severus. "I'm afraid you will have to walk back my boy. Unicorns cannot use portkeys, even be they Potion Masters." Severus hung his head and sighed, sides heaving. He was loath to be separated from his Hermione again, but there was nothing to be done.

Gathering up the knapsack and Severus' clothes, Albus shrunk them, tucking them into a robe pocket. "Hagrid, if you will pick up Miss Granger...Poppy, boys...if you would gather 'round, we'll be off."

Ron was torn. As much as he wanted to stay near his unconscious friend, the sight of the grieving unicorn was painful to see. Remembering how the proud man had rested his head over his shoulder, Ron made a decision that left Harry stunned. "If you don't mind, Headmaster, I think I'll stay and walk back with Professor Snape." Noticing Harry's confusion, he added, "It's alright, Harry. You go along with Hermione...we'll be fine."

Standing with his mouth agape, Harry stared at Ron a moment. Then something occurred to him--Snape might be a unicorn, but he was still basically naked and wandless. Other than that wicked-looking horn, he was practically helpless. Harry's Gryffindor spirit rose to the occasion. "That's ok, Ron...er...I think I'll go with you and the Professor. I imagine it will be a while before they'll let us see Hermione, at any rate."

With a pleased smile at the boys, Albus hesitated no longer. He invoked the portkey; Hermione and the professors vanished.

Severus stood glaring at the boys. What were they thinking? Was this some nefarious plot to get back at him, now he seemed helpless? He may be a unicorn, but he was not defenseless. If either of them made one move towards a wand they would find themselves gored before they could say "Wronski Feint." Contemplating them carefully, Severus grew confused. They didn't appear to be scheming; mostly they looked embarrassed. Hell's teeth! They were being all noble. Bloody Gryffindors. That was all he needed, a brace of insipid teenagers fussing over him. Severus gave a disdainful snort that was eerily alike to his human version, and began the walk back to Hogwarts, his unasked-for protectors trailing in his wake. Severus refused to admit, even to himself, how much their gesture meant to him.

*********************************

Eventually the unlikely trio found themselves safely back at Hogwarts. Headmaster Dumbledore met them at the door to the hospital wing. His eyes were serious as he told them the prognosis was not good. Hermione's wounds had been healed and Madam Pomfrey had done all she could. Hermione lived, but the head trauma was quite serious; she'd slipped into a coma.

"Do not give up hope; Hermione's a strong young woman. I have every expectation that she will wake...in time," Albus concluded. With that, he shooed the boys off to their common room, promising to alert them of any change. After they left, he turned to Severus. "My boy, I am well aware you wish to stay at her side. As you are unable, at the moment, to take over your teaching duties, I see no reason to deny you."

Severus snorted. "At the moment." Albus knew damn well it would take a miracle for him to ever teach again. Well...at the moment he could care less. He just wanted to see Hermione. When Albus opened the door, he trotted to her bed.

***********************************

While Hermione lay unconscious, Severus never left her side. At first, he'd neither eat nor sleep. By the second day of this behavior, Albus threatened him with a dreamless sleep potion, as well as force feeding by Hagrid, if he didn't make an effort.

"You'll not do the child any good when she wakes if you worry yourself sick, my boy," Albus said sternly.

Severus blew air threw his lips in an equine raspberry Bob would have been proud of. Had he been able to speak, he'd have reminded Albus that he wasn't likely to be of any use to her regardless while stuck in this blasted form.

When Albus made as if to floo for Hagrid, Severus appeared to relent. Picking at the clover the house elves had set out for him, he then lay down on a pallet on the floor made to accommodate his horsy form. He closed his eyes and dozed, but did not sleep. When Albus left the hospital wing an hour later, Severus rose on weary legs, returning to Hermione's bedside. He stared into her face for a small eternity, as if the force of his will alone could wake her. At last, with a long sigh, he stretched his neck (ever mindful of his sharp horn) and laid his head gently in her lap. He remained in that pose the rest of the day, dozing on his feet--remembering, for one fleeting moment, that joy had been his.