Breaking Down

AN: The song Do Virgins Taste Better is by R. Farran.

Disclaimer: They are not mine; I just take them out to play!

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Dinner in the great hall started out easily enough. Hermione gave Harry and Ron a brief description of what happened in the hospital wing. She did not mention her raging emotions; the boys would've kidded her about being an emotional female and she didn't want to hear it. When Ron commended her for insulting Snape to his face, she was surprised to find herself laughing along with him. Normally she would have told him off for disrespecting a teacher.

"It's about time you found your sense of humor about Snape, Hermione," Ron teased.

"That's Professor Snape, Ron," she replied in exasperation, "how many times must I remind you? I don't even know why I'm laughing; it was a horrid thing for me to say."

"It's only horrid 'cause it's true," Ron chuckled.

"Oh...it is not! I know he isn't very nice, but the work he does for the Order is very important. We shouldn't be laughing at him."

Hermione was suddenly disconcerted by a strong wave of jealousy. Where the hell had that come from? Was she jealous of Ron? That didn't make any sense! Confused, she turned from Ron to ask Neville how his recent visit to his parents had gone. Hermione knew that it was hard on Neville to visit his parents at St. Mungo's, and she always remembered to offer him some support. She took one look into his sad eyes and was mortified to find herself bursting into tears. Panicking, Hermione buried her face in her napkin. She felt Harry's arm come to rest around her shoulders. A warm concern spread over her, drowning out the distressing sorrow. Hermione didn't try to analyze the feeling, she simply snuggled her overwrought psyche into it, content to hide in the comforting concern for a long moment.

"Hermione," Harry began quietly, "what's wrong? There's obviously something you aren't telling us. I've never seen you like this."

Hermione leaned into Harry's embrace and buried her head in his shoulder. "I don't know what's wrong, Harry. I'm sorry for acting like such an idiot. I've been like this since I woke up. The professors didn't seem to think it was anything to worry about, but I can't help thinking I'm going crazy."

"Hermione," Harry continued calmly, "you're the sanest person I know. Try not to fret about it. Maybe it's just a weird reaction to the salamander. I'm sure you'll be back to yourself in no time."

"Thank you, Harry. I know I'm making a bit of a scene, but could I just stay here a moment?"

Chuckling, Harry tightened his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "You can stay there as long as you wish. You're quite cuddly for a girl."

"Ugh!" hissed Ron. "Harry could we not discuss your sexual perversity at table? I'm trying to eat here!"

Harry only continued chuckling. "Now that I think of it, maybe you and I should snog a bit, Hermione. Throw all those gossips off track!"

"No way, Harry. Not only do I know you aren't interested in that, I know you've got a jealous boyfriend that would be none too pleased. I don't feel up to dodging hexes at the moment."

Hermione remained leaning against Harry in a sisterly fashion while he finished his meal one-handed. She felt calmer there than she had since awakening. Nothing broke through the restful peace of being near her friend, except an occasional flicker of jealousy, which she easily brushed aside. She did not note the narrowed dark eyes regarding her from the head table with a sneer of displeasure.

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Were Potter and Granger dating? He'd thought they were just friends, but it was absolutely disgusting how they were wrapped around each other at dinner. Severus had been momentarily concerned about Miss Granger when she appeared upset, but as she'd snuggled into the boy's embrace, his feelings had grown rapidly darker. Steadfastly refusing to admit he'd any personal stake in the matter, he told himself he was only disappointed the damn girl didn't have better taste. The fib did nothing to improve his mood. Before he'd finished half his dinner, he abruptly rose to stride from the table. Ignoring the surprised expressions on the other professor's faces, he left the hall and headed down to his rooms.

Once he reached his sanctuary, he spent quite some time slamming about while pouring himself a firewhisky. Knocking the first glass back in one swallow, Severus immediately poured another. He searched in vain for a book to take his mind off his inexplicable reaction to Potter and Granger. After the fifth rejected book hit the floor with a crash, Turpin came scampering into his study.

"Who pissed in your shepherd's pie?" Turpin inquired politely.

"Richard Turpin, I warn you that I am in no mood for your cheek," growled Severus.

"Then you should've never accepted me as your familiar, you bloody sod. You know fucking well what I am. It's about time you quit fucking complaining about it, Syphilis, and if you turn me into a blasted toad again, I swear I'll make you pay." Though Turpin's words were harsh, his tone was surprisingly gentle; it was his usual manner of speech.

"I'm sorry, you git," Severus replied in an equally soft tone. "I know you can't help it; the truth is you do very well for one of your kind. You are far more intelligent than most, and more eloquent as well. I've had a tough day, Dick; I did not intend to take it out on you." Drink in hand, Severus collapsed onto his sofa in an elegant sprawl.

"I suppose I'll forgive you...I am rather fond of you...you half-cut wanker. Don't you know better than get pissed alone?" Turpin groused as he scrambled up onto the sofa and into the tipsy man's lap. "Give us a nip then, that's a good lad."

Severus obligingly tipped his glass and let his familiar drink right out of it. He chuckled when the firewhisky made his furry mate sneeze. "That's the problem with you, Turpin...you can't hold your liquor."

A half hour later they were both quite pissed and singing some of the more raunchy drinking songs known to wizard kind. Severus had a rather pleasant, if a bit slurred, baritone while Turpin sounded badly off key and rather squeaky. Neither man nor beast seemed to mind that in the least as they sung far into the night.

A dragon has come to our village today.

We've asked him to leave, but he won't go away.

Now he's talked to our king and they worked out a deal;

No more homes will he burn and no crops will he steal.

Now there is but one catch, we dislike it a bunch;

Twice a year he invites him a virgin to lunch.

Well, we've no other choice, so the deal we'll respect,

But we can't help but wonder and pause to reflect:

Do virgins taste better than those who are not?

Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what?

Do you savor them slowly? Gulp them down on the spot?

Do virgins taste better than those who are not?

"Do virgins taste better, you pissed hinny?" inquired Turpin politely, with a soft hiccough.

"When I find that out, you drunken weasel, I'll be sure to let you know," Severus replied with a leer.

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Hermione had a bad night. Exhausted as she was, she could not turn off the riot of emotion that crept into her every waking thought. She felt buffeted, battered by things she didn't understand. Tossing and turning all through the night, Hermione never managed more than a light doze. By morning she felt more out of control than ever. Looking in the mirror while she preformed her morning ablutions, she noted her appearance with something akin to horror. Her eyes were tired and bloodshot, her complexion pale. She looked like death warmed over. Sweet Nimue, if this didn't stop soon, she'd check herself willingly into St. Mungo's. Studies be damned. Whole bloody future be damned. She'd trade it all for a single moment's peace. Refusing to dare the turmoil of the great hall, she asked Lavender to bring her back some toast.

Trying in vain to study, she dreaded her first class. Why did it have to be double potions with the Slytherins?

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Severus woke with a blinding headache and Turpin snoring loudly in his ear. They'd both passed out on the sofa around four in the morning. Shifting himself from under his sleeping familiar, Severus rose and staggered into the bath. It took him two fumbled attempts before managing to get the correct phial out of the medicine chest. Draining the hangover potion in one gulp, he slammed the door of the medicine chest shut and regarded his haggard appearance in the mirror gravely. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, his normally pale face even more colorless than usual. He looked like death warmed over. With a sneer at his reflection, Severus stumbled into the shower to prepare for his day. If only it wasn't blasted double potions with his two most disruptive houses. He did have one thing to look forward to--if there was even one hint of an inappropriate display between Potter and Granger, he was going to give them detention until the end of time.

The sneer turned into a wicked smirk.

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Hermione was not coping. It was only fifteen minutes into the class and Hermione thought a nice padded cell somewhere was looking better all the time. For once, Neville had to do the brunt of the work; she simply couldn't concentrate. Unable to do more than mimic whatever Neville did, Hermione's potion was a lumpy mess already. The emotions she could no longer control swirled through Hermione in such dizzy disarray that she could no longer tell one from the other. Beginning to feel that anything would be better than the situation she now found herself in, Hermione seriously considered banging her head into the table until it stopped. Or perhaps she should just stand in the middle of the classroom and scream until someone did something...anything!

What in Hades was wrong with the Granger girl? Was she mad? Severus had never seen her look more raged nor had he seen her prepare a potion with less care. While he hadn't had to break up any charming scenes between the chit and Potter, he was unsure whether he should give Miss Granger a detention or rush her to the hospital wing. Perhaps if he confronted her he could better decide what to do. Blast the girl! He had better things to do than play nursemaid to a young Gryffindor. If this turned out to be some teenage angst gone awry, he was going to give her detention until the stars grew cold.

With a swirl of black robes he was before her, leaning over the table, eyes mere inches from her own. "Miss Granger," he rumbled, his voice low and dangerous, "would you mind terribly explaining to me what exactly is going on here?"

The combination of the scowling face suddenly before her, Professor Snape's harsh tone, and the sudden spikes of anger that blazed through her, broke the last of Hermione's ability to stay calm. Standing so suddenly that her chair crashed to the floor; Hermione found that her legs would not support her and fell to her knees on the cold stone. The cacophony of emotions which attacked her reached a fever pitch. Hermione put her head in her hands and screamed.

Severus had never been so shocked in his life. To suddenly see the normally unflappable young woman collapsed on the floor rocking and shrieking while she pulled at her hair with both hands was beyond explanation. For an eternal instant his brain refused to process the inexplicable sight and he simply stood gaping at her. Coming to his senses, he dove around the table to lift up the screaming girl and cradle her against his chest like a child. His only thought was to get Hermione to Poppy as quickly as possible. As soon as Severus' arms closed around her, Hermione stopped screaming. Her eyes closed, her body relaxed, her hands fell away from where they had been fisted in her hair.

"Miss Granger?" Severus asked. "Miss Granger, can you hear me?"

Hermione could not hear him. She had no idea whose arms held her. All Hermione knew was that she was completely surrounded by a fierce protectiveness that blocked out the din of confusing emotions that had come so close to driving her mad. Hermione snuggled her battered psyche deep into that overwhelming protectiveness and felt as if nothing could ever hurt her again.

Receiving no response from the now eerily silent young witch, Severus sprang into action. "Mr. Goyle, open that door, now!" he barked. Carrying the limp girl hugged tightly to his chest, Severus took the stairs two at a time and nearly sprinted down the hall to the hospital wing. He was shouting for Poppy before he even reached the door.

"Sweet Merlin, Severus," Poppy asked as she ran in from her office, "what's happened to Miss Granger?"

"I don't know, Poppy. She was distracted in class...when I attempted to find out what the matter was, she collapsed screaming. I brought her here as quickly as possible."

"You did well, Severus. Well...at least she seems calm now. Put her down on a cot and I'll take a look at her."

As Severus placed her gently down on the nearest cot and drew away, Hermione began screaming again, eyes opened wide and unseeing. As her hands reached up to clutch in her hair, Severus--in a reflexive move--picked her back up. Hermione's screams abruptly stopped.

Poppy now saw something few people had ever seen before; the imperturbable Potion's Professor was completely at a loss. He looked from the now calm student in his arms to the startled mediwitch with a wide-eyed expression of shock and confusion. If Poppy hadn't been so worried about the young woman, she would've truly enjoyed seeing the normally confident man so nonplussed.

"Severus, would you try to put her down again?" When Hermione once again began to scream, Poppy snapped, "well...pick her back up, man, for heaven's sake!" Poppy stared at the now quiet girl and shook her head. "I've never seen the like," she muttered. Drawing her wand, Madame Pomfrey transfigured the cot into a large, overstuffed chair. "You might as well sit down with her, Severus, while I go floo the Headmaster."

"What? Madame Pomfrey, may I remind you that I have classes to teach? I do not have time sit here snuggling with a student, nor do I think it the least bit appropriate," Severus snapped, his expression falling back into its normal disdain.

"Well, Professor Snape, then I'd have to say that this is your unlucky day, because you are going to sit right there and keep Miss Granger calm until we can figure out what the hell is going on. Have I made myself very clear?"

Severus' only reply was a glare, but he immediately gave in before the irate mediwitch and dutifully sat in the transfigured chair, continuing to cradle the senseless young witch against him. Satisfied, Poppy headed for the floo in her office to alert the Headmaster of the odd situation.