Special thanks to my beta-reader Miracle who did an excellent job with this chapter. *hug*
This isn't so much Severus/Hermione, because (comma! *g*) I don't really like stories that rush everything. More to come, though, I promise. And now: Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Me not own. Me = stupid primate. JKR own. JKR = goddess.
**********
l'anacrouse [= anacrousis; see prélude]
The next day was luckily Sunday, giving the students a fair chance to sleep in after the ball. Hermione did so, too, and as she finally rose from bed it was well past lunch. Not that she minded, especially not with the headache she was starting to get.
Might as well go down to Madame Pomfrey now, she mused. Later, after a rather long lecture about the dangers of taking a walk out in the cold and two spoonfuls of Poppy's anti-cold potion she headed back to Gryffindor tower. Snape passed her on her way up the stairs but to her utter confusion he completely ignored her. Had she only been dreaming last night then? Come to think of it, his behaviour had been decidedly odd and, with the remnants of her headache pounding behind her skull, it was hard to decide whether it was a true memory or just a fading dream.
Upon entering the common room, Hermione found Ron and Harry there, sitting in front of the fire, playing wizard's chess. Ron wasn't in an entirely good mood and it took Hermione a while to guess why he was shooting angry glances at her. Blast! She had totally forgotten she had promised to dance with him last evening. Well, it wasn't really her primary concern at the moment, but she definitely resented the idea of spending the last week at Hogwarts with Ron being mad at her. Heaving a deep sigh, Hermione rose and walked towards him.
"Hey Ron." He shot her another glance, which made her think that he had taken her as seriously as if she had sworn a blood oath. "Look, I realize you're probably disappointed that I just disappeared yesterday evening…" She hesitated a moment, not exactly sure how to continue.
An angry snort escaped his mouth, and he fixed his eyes on the chessboard. "Well, you were gone rather suddenly," Harry commented. "What was that about, anyway?"
While she settled down in front of the hearth, Hermione replied: "I just didn't feel well… I was getting a terrible headache" - that was true enough, the thoughts on her mind had resulted in a steady pounding then - "and the loud music wasn't making things better. For some reason, I only wanted to get back in my bed and sleep. I totally forgot I had promised that dance to you, Ron."
Though he was still grumbling, Ron looked up at her. "It's just that – it was our Graduation ball, and I really would have liked to settle things with a final dance with you, you know? Well, I guess it just wasn't supposed to happen, then." He smiled. "No further grimacing about the past on my part, I promise. Let's face our future, guys!"
She swallowed thickly, but somehow managed to force a smile onto her face. Great topic that was. And while her mind started drifting off again to her non-existent future, she listened half-heartedly to her best friends' exited chat about their coming career as Aurors. At least if they were talking about themselves they wouldn't get the idea to ask her on her plans, she mused. As if on cue, Harry suddenly turned around to her.
"What about you, Mione? You haven't let us in on any of your planning."
"Oh, I guess I'm going to study. I just haven't actually decided on a certain university, yet, there's still some time left and they all have so many fascinating programs…" The more white lies left her lips, the easier it became to invent them, she realized. She still felt badly about lying to her friends, but if she told them the truth they'd only feel pity for her, and she didn't want that. Especially not as it would surely spoil the rest of the time they had left together.
And so Hermione started reciting university leaflets, talking as exitedly as she could about difficult Arithmancy courses, until the boys got bored and turned to the Auror-subject again. During all that time, she felt like a hot knife was sliding into her stomach, twisting her internal organs around. She had never envied Harry and Ron for anything they got, but now the thought that they were going to make their dreams come true, and she wasn't, made her both incredibly angry and sad at the same time.
She wasn't going to show that. She
was just going to ignore that feeling, enjoy her last days at what had
become her second home, and face reality afterwards.
It turned out to be a terribly long
Sunday.