Separation Anxiety
They skirted around each other, each afraid of sparking an explosion. He began every lesson with a dreamy smile that slowly morphed into frustration and eventually, depression, when she failed to watch him teach his fourth-years.
He longed for that one smile to tell him that he'd done well, that she was proud of him; but it never came. He knew that her right hand has been ravaged by the rather snarky fanged geraniums she was helping Madame Sprout with, but his emotions overtook logical reasoning and so Hagrid spent his days and his evenings and his nights longing for Professor Grubbly-Plank to grace his lessons with her presence.
She spent one agonising night after the other wilting away under the fluorescent lights of the hospital wing. A few fangs had lodged themselves deep within the flesh of her palm when she'd been bitten and it had taken Madame Pomfrey much too long to get them out, tricky little blighters that they were.
Her spirit sank lower with every day that her secret wish of a visit from Hagrid went unfulfilled, and Madame Pomfrey was beginning to notice the definite dip in her mood as she strung silvery lights around the hospital to brighten the place up for Christmas.
"Do y'think she even likes me?" Hagrid asked Harry and Ron morosely as the pair sat with him at his cabin. They'd never seen him this dejected before, and Ron couldn't take his moping anymore.
"Just go on and visit her, won't you Hagrid? She's probably waiting for you to make the first move," he added suggestively.
"Plus, the Yule Ball happens soon, and you know what that means," Harry said, grinning.
Hagrid shook his massive head first, but then he thought.
And thought some more.
That evening, when the sun had streaked the fluffy clouds with hues of crimson and gold, a large silhouette could be seen making its way towards the hospital room.
Hagrid walked over to Professor Grubbly Plank's bed in a nervous state, wondering over and over again as to how he was going to begin the conversation.
Her head swivelled in his direction when she heard the heavy footsteps plonk towards her, and her heart thumped just a little too hard as the first whispers of hope seeped into it.
"Professor Grubbly-Plank!" he bellowed a little too loudly, and she cringed. He ploughed on.
"How…how does your hand feel today?" The sight of her right palm wrapped in bloody bandages didn't comfort him much.
"It's healing, but not too well, as you can see," she replied wryly.
"Er, I was wondering if…well, if it isn't too much of a trouble for you….I don't mean to disrupt yer schedule, but…"
"Yes, Hagrid?" Her eyes sparkled with unspoken humour.
"Would you be my date for the Yule Ball?" The words tripped out of his mouth.
"On one condition," she said carefully.
But Hagrid smiled with the energy of a thousand suns. "Anything, m'lady!"
"Don't expect me to dance with you. I don't dance. Ever."
A/N: Entered In -
The Out of Your Comfort Zone Challenge. Medium, Hagrid/Grubbly Plank, silver, "I don't dance. Ever."
The 25 Days of Christmas Competition, prompt: stringing lights
The Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, prompt #19 - hand