A/N None of this is mine; it all belongs to JKR.
As always, a huge thank you to my wonderful betas Hikorichan and Tychesong.
The Great Hall rang with the voices of hundreds of adolescents, all eager to discuss the happenings of the weekend that had just finished. Dinner was nearly over and the students were restless. Professor Severus Snape sat at the staff table next to the new Arithmancy teacher, Professor Hermione Granger. Professor Granger's hands waved animatedly as she talked about her weekend with the Moron Twins, as he liked to call Potter and Weasley, despite having gained a modicum of respect for Potter, at least. Severus sneered as he watched Professor Granger's hair fly about. Honestly, can't the woman control that insane hair? It's practically touching my face. Forget that, it is touching my face!
The surprisingly soft locks brushed gently against his cheek. Suddenly, Severus's heart was pounding and his hands were sweaty. He felt cold and clammy, yet conversely hot and sweaty all over. As Hermione glanced over at him, her tale apparently finished, he felt the fever rise and his face flush.
"Severus, are you all right?" Hermione inquired. Interfering witch. Why wouldn't I be all right? I've just got a cold!
"I am perfectly fine, thank you. I suspect I may be developing a virus. A dose of Pepper-Up will sort me out in no time, I am sure."
Severus tried to recall the timeline of his virus. It was a very odd sort of illness indeed, coming and going with no discernable pattern. Last week, he had begun to feel the faint beginnings of the virus. At lunch, when Professor Granger - Hermione, as she insisted - sat down next to him, he caught a waft of her scent and his chest lurched. He'd not thought anything of it at the time. The next day in the staff meeting, his heart had thumped madly in his chest while Professors Flitwick, Granger, and Longbottom argued goodnaturedly about which one of them had awarded the most house points.
Later that same day, whilst teaching his third year potions class, he'd heard one of them whispering about how difficult Arithmancy was. At that exact moment, he'd felt his heart thumping vigorously once again. He was starting to be a touch concerned. Surely, surely his heart wasn't going to give him grief now?
The weekend had been much better. Not being on duty, he had escaped to the Malfoys' house. Narcissa took great pleasure in providing him with every dish he could ever remember expressing a liking for, and Lucius, as usual, produced the very finest of Elf-made wines over dinner, followed by a twenty-five-year-old single malt firewhisky in front of the fire. His heart had behaved itself beautifully, maintaining a steady rhythm throughout the weekend. The only time it had faltered was during a discussion with Narcissa about Draco and Astoria's upcoming wedding.
"Severus, darling, don't you think it's time you settled down? Found a wife? I know lots of lovely women whom I'm sure you'd like. Why don't I organise a little dinner for you? You must be lonely in that dungeon by yourself."
"Narcissa, the last time you tried to set me up, it was with a horse-faced little bitch who took great pleasure in imagining in vivid detail all the unsavoury doings I must have got up to in my Death Eater days, and then tried to lecture me about drinking too much coffee. You'll forgive me if I'd prefer to remain comfortably single, able to imbibe in whatever beverages I please, while doing my utmost to forget twenty years of my life!"
Severus took a gulp of tea ("no coffee in the afternoon, sweetie, it's so bourgeois") in an attempt to calm his racing heart.
It was Lucius's arrival and the subsequent change of subject that finally allowed Severus's heart to settle down. The matter was not referred to again, and Severus relaxed once more, thoroughly enjoying the rest of his stay.
He returned to Hogwarts feeling much more mellow and quite sure that whatever this little bug was, he was over it now. But then, in the Great Hall at dinner, his heart began pounding loudly, terrifyingly, in his ears. He could barely concentrate on what Hermione was saying to him - something about his weekend, and the Malfoys, and her weekend at Grimmauld Place with Potter and Ginny Weasley, and Ron Weasley had been there too, the buffoon. At that point, Severus felt very ill indeed. His heart was racing, his stomach lurched, and his hands shook.
He held on for another few minutes, then excused himself to Hermione, who looked at him with concern.
"I must go - potion - Stasis Charm might not hold…" he babbled. Once outside the door, he leaned against the wall, the cool of the ancient stones soothing his cheeks. He was starting to get worried. His heartbeat slowed and he began to calm down.
The door to the Great Hall opened and Madam Pomfrey came out. "Severus, you're coming with me," she said in her no-nonsense way. Severus stood still. There was no way Madam-five-foot-two-inches-Pomfrey was ordering him about like an errant first year!
"Now, Severus. Don't be tiresome; you're not well and I am going to examine you whether you like it or not."
Grumbling under his breath, Severus followed Madam Pomfrey to the hospital wing, rather like an errant first year.
"Right, tell me about your symptoms. And don't tell me you're 'perfectly well, thank you very much, Poppy'. It's obvious there's something going on."
"I really am perfectly well," Severus began, not really believing it himself. "But every now and then my heart races and I can feel it pounding in my chest. But I am sure it is nothing that you need worry yourself over, Madam. Give me some Pepper-Up and I shall be about my business."
"Hmm." Madam Pomfrey picked up her wand, and began to cast diagnostic spells. "Hmmm. Interesting. Hmm. Oh my goodness…" Her expression was serious as she interpreted the results.
I'm dying, thought Severus. I'm fucking dying. I'm fucking going to have a heart attack and die on the floor of my fucking potions lab and some fucking student is going to discover my fucking body. This is it. Look at Poppy's face. She doesn't know how to tell me, but I already know. I'm fucking dying and I never got to shag Hermione.
Severus jumped. He had no idea where that rogue thought had sprung from. Shag Hermione? He didn't even particularly like her! Hermione, with her big brown eyes like the richest espresso; her creamy skin, looking so soft and velvet; her rosebud mouth - rosebud mouth? What the fuck, Severus?
All right, so what if he did like Hermione? He was bloody well dying of a horrible heart condition anyway. He'd be blue and cold, and he was pretty damn well sure that Hermione wasn't into necrophilia. No, better to accept his fate: cold in the grave while Hermione turned out little bawling red-haired babies by the dozen with that gormless half-wit Weasley.
"...and chamomile tea." Poppy finished with a smile. Severus realised he hadn't heard a word she had said, but surely chamomile tea wasn't a cure for cardiomyopathy?
"What about chamomile tea, Poppy? Surely if I'm dying anyway I don't have to drink that hippogriff's piss?"
Poppy chuckled. "Dying? Where on earth in all of that did you get dying from? Severus, listen carefully: your heart is fine. Your blood pressure is normal. Your pulse is a little high, but that's to be expected with panic attacks."
"PANIC ATTACKS? I am not having panic attacks! I was a spy for two insane megalomaniacs for twenty fucking years and I barely raised a sweat! Bellatrix bloody Lestrange herself cast the Cruciatus on me just for pleasure every second week and I laughed in the face of danger! You are mistaken, Madam." Severus drew himself up to his full height of six foot two inches.
"I am a man of action, a man of decision. I do not have 'panic attacks'!"
Severus stalked indignantly towards the door. He paused, and turned.
"What, in your humble opinion, is causing these alleged panic attacks?" he sneered quite magnificently at Madam Pomfrey.
Madam Pomfrey twinkled up at him like a tiny mad beardless female Dumbledore.
"Oh Severus. It's obvious. You're in love with Hermione Granger."