Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. My poor bank account is still recovering from my trip to London in May, so I can't afford to keep Snape chained to my bed at the moment.
A/N: This came to me in the shower this morning (where I do some of my best thinking, you know!), and I couldn't get any homework done until I wrote it. Certainly AU, with a particularly flamboyant thumbing of my nose at DH.
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The simple truth was that Voldemort had picked the wrong day to come to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Honestly, anyone with a lick of sense would know that all of those females, living together for months on end, would end up synched. And, as most of the observant males in the castle would tell you, there were approximately 5-7 days out of each month where one should do everything possible NOT to incite the wrath of said females.
The day or two before the Week of Hell, as it had been secretly dubbed by the males, were the absolute worst. On those days, every female in the castle channeled a raving lunatic. Simple questions like "would you please pass the jam" could result in tears, screaming, having the jam poured over your head, a declaration of love, or all of the above…and it could change from minute to minute.
Immediately following the Sorting Feast, the new First Years were pulled aside by the Second Years and instructed them in the Secret Arts of Chocolate and Rare Meat. The younger boys thought it was a fine joke until they experienced their first Week of Hell.
Even with this information there were occasional mistakes, most of which observed in the Great Hall. An unsuspecting Ravenclaw, who had obviously missed the First Year Talk, had asked one of his House-mates how she was feeling. Her eloquent (if loud) reply of, "MY UTERUS FEELS LIKE AN OVER-RIPE AVOCADO BEING SCRAPED WITH A RUSTY FORK!!," had made even those with the strongest gastric fortitude wince and push their plates away.
oooOOOooo
It was the day before the Week of Hell, and the men in the castle were trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. A female member of the teaching staff, who was covering for Madam Pomfrey while she was on sabbatical, was pregnant, and her hormones were adversely affecting every other female in the castle. All the men agreed; the level of "crazy" was worse than ever…even breathing could be a hexable offense.
Having long ago caught on to the needs of their charges, meals were always designed to placate the masses, and the Elves had outdone themselves. Dinner had been a large tender roast, lentils, nice salty potatoes, and plates of fruits prominently featuring pineapple and mango.
Dessert had just arrived, and it was a work of art; each plate held two large slices of chocolate cake containing six types of chocolate, a large scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, fudge sauce and whipped cream.
And that's when the alarms started going off.
Two hundred female heads snapped up, spoons in hand and eyes narrowed dangerously. NOBODY messed with a chocolate dessert. Two hundred male heads looked very worried, and felt sorry for whatever poor bastard had decided to attack Hogwarts just then.
oooOOOooo
The women of Hogwarts exited the castle calmly and hit the attackers like a sledgehammer. They didn't stand a chance against the pissed-off, hormonal witches, and the whole thing was over in about fifteen minutes.
When the screaming stopped, the crying started.
Small groups of men, and even a few older women in better control of their emotions, huddled around the distressed witches, trying to help as best they could.
One group in particular caught the attention of a hook-nosed man. Walking over, he could see that all attempts to determine her state of being were met with unintelligible wailing. One of the members of the group looked up helplessly as he approached.
"I have no idea what we should do! Is she hurt? She won't even answer us!"
Smirking, he waved his wand and ran a quick diagnostic. "She is uninjured. Don't worry," the dark man assured his bespectacled comrade-in-arms as he offered the bushy-haired girl a handkerchief. "I'll take care of her. I've a good idea what she needs right now, and it isn't someone fretting over her."
The messy-haired boy nodded, glad he wasn't the one that would have to deal with the weeping puddle of hormones that was his best friend.
Helping her stand, the tall man wrapped the girl in his cloak and Apparated them away.
oooOOOooo
And that was how Hermione Granger came to be in London, having a curry with Severus Snape hours after the defeat of the Dark Lord.
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A/N: The 'overripe avocado' description is from a CSI fic by Cincoflex. It has become common usage among my coworkers; "How are you?" "I'm having my avocado week." The number of students is only a guess, based on 5 boys and 5 girls per year per House. The fantastic dessert described is modeled after the Chocolate Stampede from Longhorn Steakhouse. Since most of my coworkers and I are synched, we go to Longhorn once a month and have rare steak, drinks, and a Stampede. It keeps us from killing the men. My boss, who manages a group of mostly women, keeps a bowl of chocolate in his office. We love him.