Pain.
What the hell is the matter with my head? Ugh. I feel like I have a Hippogriff sitting on my sinuses.
Maybe I should open my eyes and see if there is someone here that can give me a potion or an aspirin or anything. Okay, here we go. Opening my eyes.
Nausea.
Damn. Gods, it must be morning for the sun to be that blasted bright. The opening the eyes thing was just not a good idea. I am never opening my eyes again. What the hell did I drink? Did I drink last night? I remember setting the table and going upstairs to change for dinner. What the hell did I do to my head? I'll just crack my eye and see if --- The Hospital Wing? How did I get here? And why does Severus look like he's been run over by a Norwegian Ridgeback?
Snape tore his gaze from the window and looked back at the still figure in the bed. Their eyes locked for a moment before Hermione gestured frantically for the basin on her nightstand. Severus handed it to her quickly and, sitting on the edge of the bed, held back her tangled hair as she vomited and unwittingly began to cry.
"Shhhhh! Angel, it's all right," whispered Snape. "I'm here. I'll take care of you, I promise. It's going to be fine."
The noise brought the mediwitch scurrying from her quarters. Snape heard her coming and called:
"Poppy? Poppy! She's awake!"
Pomfrey raced to Hermione's side, wand out and ready. She swiftly ran her wand over Hermione and a look of concern took over her normally pleasant features.
"Severus, could you excuse us please."
Severus looked like he was about to protest, but instead stood up and swept over to pace in front of the fireplace. The nurse pulled the curtains around Hermione's bed and softly spoke to her, as she handed her a glass of water and a potion to quell the nausea.
"Hermione. Something went wrong. You are in the future. It's been seventeen years since you left us," the nurse softly told her. She paused for a moment to let it all sink in. Hermione turned frightened eyes to her and grabbed her hand.
"Seventeen years? I only meant to pop into my seventh year and then pop back out!" she said, crying softly once again. "I just wanted to make sure everything was fine, to check on the people I loved. Poppy? Why didn't it work?"
"I told you it might not, if you remember, Hermione," Pomfrey said, handing her another vial of potion to drink. Hermione drank it without so much as a questioning glance. "When you left the Hospital Wing that day I told you it would be risky. You weren't in the right frame of mind, for one. And two, time traveling short jumps isn't good for someone in perfect health - and here you are attempting seventeen years and you -"
Hermione sat up in bed abruptly, ignoring the waves of nausea and pain that hit her. She interrupted Pomfrey with a dangerous hiss that would make her husband proud.
"You did NOT tell him, did you Poppy?" she said. "Did Dumbledore?"
"No, child. We kept your secret. We promised we would. And he has been beside himself with panic and worry for the last seventeen years, throw in a time jump that was risky to your health and I think the man would have gone insane. He was damned cranky enough as it was. You owe him a big explanation, Hermione," the nurse said.
"I know. And he will get one."
Pomfrey fussed over a suddenly sullen Hermione for a few more minutes. Tutting under her breath, she summoned a house elf with a large breakfast for two. She called Snape back to Hermione's side and spoke to him in hushed tones.
"What is wrong with her, Poppy?" he asked, nervously pulling at the buttons on his waistcoat. "Why is she reacting so badly to her time jump?"
"Severus, I can't tell you. I promised Hermione and it is, truly, her story to tell," Pomfrey said, smiling. She laid a comforting hand on his arm. Snape stared at her blankly.
"She's ill, isn't she?" he said. "I've waited all these years to get her back, only to watch her suffer or die."
The nurse didn't know whether to laugh at his Gryffindor-like stab at the melodramatic, or to bring out her inner Hufflepuff and take the man into a giant bear hug. She settled for Slytherin sarcasm.
"Always the optimist, aren't we, Snape?" quipped Pomfrey.
Snape just glared, but the glare was tempered with an edge of fear. She didn't contradict his statement about Hermione dying. She didn't reassure him. He felt bile and panic both rising in his throat as he turned to face the now lecturing woman.
"Do NOT excite her. Do NOT upset her," began the nurse. "I know she has much to tell you and you have a right to know - but it can wait. I know you are probably dying to touch her, but you will just have to keep your hands to yourself today."
At that comment, Pomfrey was awarded a sharp glance. Used to his surly attitude, she shrugged it off, placing a hand on the tall man's chest. "Just comfort her and be with her right now."
Snape didn't answer nor did he flinch from the contact, he just stood looking past Pomfrey at the curtains that hid his wife.
"Severus Snape, are you listening to me? As much as you want her, it has to wait. And there will be no Spanish Inquisition today. You will have time to get your answers later," she finished.
"I hear you, Poppy."
"And?"
"I'll attempt to restrain myself, in both matters," he snapped. "Now, may I please see my wife? I think I have been very patient for the last seventeen years and I would like to think I don't have to wait any longer."
Pomfrey gestured to the curtains and Snape stepped around them to find an elaborate breakfast for two - and a sleeping Hermione.
"Damn," he swore. "It figures."
What the hell is the matter with my head? Ugh. I feel like I have a Hippogriff sitting on my sinuses.
Maybe I should open my eyes and see if there is someone here that can give me a potion or an aspirin or anything. Okay, here we go. Opening my eyes.
Nausea.
Damn. Gods, it must be morning for the sun to be that blasted bright. The opening the eyes thing was just not a good idea. I am never opening my eyes again. What the hell did I drink? Did I drink last night? I remember setting the table and going upstairs to change for dinner. What the hell did I do to my head? I'll just crack my eye and see if --- The Hospital Wing? How did I get here? And why does Severus look like he's been run over by a Norwegian Ridgeback?
Snape tore his gaze from the window and looked back at the still figure in the bed. Their eyes locked for a moment before Hermione gestured frantically for the basin on her nightstand. Severus handed it to her quickly and, sitting on the edge of the bed, held back her tangled hair as she vomited and unwittingly began to cry.
"Shhhhh! Angel, it's all right," whispered Snape. "I'm here. I'll take care of you, I promise. It's going to be fine."
The noise brought the mediwitch scurrying from her quarters. Snape heard her coming and called:
"Poppy? Poppy! She's awake!"
Pomfrey raced to Hermione's side, wand out and ready. She swiftly ran her wand over Hermione and a look of concern took over her normally pleasant features.
"Severus, could you excuse us please."
Severus looked like he was about to protest, but instead stood up and swept over to pace in front of the fireplace. The nurse pulled the curtains around Hermione's bed and softly spoke to her, as she handed her a glass of water and a potion to quell the nausea.
"Hermione. Something went wrong. You are in the future. It's been seventeen years since you left us," the nurse softly told her. She paused for a moment to let it all sink in. Hermione turned frightened eyes to her and grabbed her hand.
"Seventeen years? I only meant to pop into my seventh year and then pop back out!" she said, crying softly once again. "I just wanted to make sure everything was fine, to check on the people I loved. Poppy? Why didn't it work?"
"I told you it might not, if you remember, Hermione," Pomfrey said, handing her another vial of potion to drink. Hermione drank it without so much as a questioning glance. "When you left the Hospital Wing that day I told you it would be risky. You weren't in the right frame of mind, for one. And two, time traveling short jumps isn't good for someone in perfect health - and here you are attempting seventeen years and you -"
Hermione sat up in bed abruptly, ignoring the waves of nausea and pain that hit her. She interrupted Pomfrey with a dangerous hiss that would make her husband proud.
"You did NOT tell him, did you Poppy?" she said. "Did Dumbledore?"
"No, child. We kept your secret. We promised we would. And he has been beside himself with panic and worry for the last seventeen years, throw in a time jump that was risky to your health and I think the man would have gone insane. He was damned cranky enough as it was. You owe him a big explanation, Hermione," the nurse said.
"I know. And he will get one."
Pomfrey fussed over a suddenly sullen Hermione for a few more minutes. Tutting under her breath, she summoned a house elf with a large breakfast for two. She called Snape back to Hermione's side and spoke to him in hushed tones.
"What is wrong with her, Poppy?" he asked, nervously pulling at the buttons on his waistcoat. "Why is she reacting so badly to her time jump?"
"Severus, I can't tell you. I promised Hermione and it is, truly, her story to tell," Pomfrey said, smiling. She laid a comforting hand on his arm. Snape stared at her blankly.
"She's ill, isn't she?" he said. "I've waited all these years to get her back, only to watch her suffer or die."
The nurse didn't know whether to laugh at his Gryffindor-like stab at the melodramatic, or to bring out her inner Hufflepuff and take the man into a giant bear hug. She settled for Slytherin sarcasm.
"Always the optimist, aren't we, Snape?" quipped Pomfrey.
Snape just glared, but the glare was tempered with an edge of fear. She didn't contradict his statement about Hermione dying. She didn't reassure him. He felt bile and panic both rising in his throat as he turned to face the now lecturing woman.
"Do NOT excite her. Do NOT upset her," began the nurse. "I know she has much to tell you and you have a right to know - but it can wait. I know you are probably dying to touch her, but you will just have to keep your hands to yourself today."
At that comment, Pomfrey was awarded a sharp glance. Used to his surly attitude, she shrugged it off, placing a hand on the tall man's chest. "Just comfort her and be with her right now."
Snape didn't answer nor did he flinch from the contact, he just stood looking past Pomfrey at the curtains that hid his wife.
"Severus Snape, are you listening to me? As much as you want her, it has to wait. And there will be no Spanish Inquisition today. You will have time to get your answers later," she finished.
"I hear you, Poppy."
"And?"
"I'll attempt to restrain myself, in both matters," he snapped. "Now, may I please see my wife? I think I have been very patient for the last seventeen years and I would like to think I don't have to wait any longer."
Pomfrey gestured to the curtains and Snape stepped around them to find an elaborate breakfast for two - and a sleeping Hermione.
"Damn," he swore. "It figures."