Severely Deluded

Scene 3

Hermione woke up in the hospital wing.

Oh my God, she thought. Snape is sitting next to me and I'm wearing pajamas.

The antidote didn't work, then.

"Miss Granger." Snape seemed to be trying not to move his lips. "You nearly killed yourself with an antidote you plainly did not need."

Hermione closed her eyes.

"I have, however, managed to convince the others that you were merely attempting suicide."

Hermione nearly fell out of bed. "You what?"

"Quiet, girl. You wanted to have to explain your situation? I thought not."

"But what am I supposed to tell them?"

"You have an inventive mind," Snape said. "You'll think of something."

A rustle of robes announced the entry of Pomfrey, McGonagall and Dumbledore, all of whom looked as thought they had just sent someone to the dementors.

"Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "I see you're still alive."

"Don't be so insensitive, Albus," hissed McGonagall. "Miss Granger, if there's anything you need to talk about – anything at all --"

Yes, Professor, I'm in love with Professor Snape. What would you recommend? Hermione turned her giggle into a choked sob and hid her face in the covers. Snape surreptitiously rolled his eyes.

"Everyone out," Madam Pomfrey said. "That means you, too." She must have meant Snape, because Hermione heard a rustle of robes next to her ear, then silence.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath.

"I just – couldn't take the pressure anymore. You know, being Head Girl, and N.E.W.T.'s are only five months away, and I'm practically failing Potions --" To Hermione's horror, the tears were real.

Madam Pomfrey gave her a hug. "There, girl, it's bad but it's not worth dying over, and as for your Potions grade, you can talk to Professor Snape about it when he comes in, I'm sure you'll be able to work something out --"

"Professor Snape's coming in?"

"Yes, you see there has to be someone here at all times to watch you, and with so many down with Vanishing Sickness I can't stay here all day."

"Professor Snape's on suicide watch?"

"He's actually quite good at it."

I bet, Hermione thought. I just hope it's night when he comes back because I can tell my hair is practically a beast in its own right.

Actually, it was mid-afternoon when Snape returned, and Hermione was already bored enough to consider (or reconsider) suicide.

"Come to make sure I don't kill myself?" Hermione said as Snape took the chair next to the bed with ill grace and began grading what looked like sixth-year essays on the Wolfsbane Potion.

"You know and I know this is a waste of time, so do try not to make it any worse." All the time Snape was talking his quill kept moving.

"You could have told them the truth, you know."

"I was trying to make things easier for you, girl," Snape snapped. "I'll know not to in future."

"I'm sorry, sir," Hermione said. "I do appreciate it."

"You had already brought enough trouble on yourself by consulting me, I thought."

"I'll know not to in future."

That got a reluctant smile from Snape. More accurately an angling of the mouth, but it still did inventive things to her nervous system.

"And you could stop twitting me about it," Hermione said. "If you're so keen on making things easier."

"It is, regrettably, too entertaining to give up," Snape said, almost looking at her. "The rumors are true – I do enjoy tormenting my students."

"I've never had any reason to think they were false."

There went the mouth again. Perhaps he'd never learned how to smile. Hermione fought an urge to bury her face in the pillow.

"I must admit I'm terribly anxious to find out who you don't want to admit you love," Snape said in a voice that indicated an unknown degree of sarcasm.

"I'll never tell."

"Pity," Snape said.

"And it'd be suspiciously out of character for you to fix me a cup of tea, so don't even think about it."

"I don't want to know that badly," Snape said. His quill continued scratching. Hermione wondered how much red ink he used in a week. Judging by the looks of Harry's and Ron's returned essays, quite a lot.

"Draco Malfoy."

"What?"

"Is it Malfoy?"

"No, of course not." Hermione avoided his eyes; knowing they were there was bad enough, and with a bit of luck he would think she was lying.

"Why not? Half the female population of Hogwarts seems to find him attractive."

"He thinks I'm a lower life form."

"Forbidden love," Snape said, raising an eyebrow. "It would have to be. Why else would you be in denial?"

Snape was too damn perceptive for her own good. "I'm not in denial."

"I suppose we can rule out Weasley, then," Snape said.

Hermione remained silent, vowing not to argue with Snape about Ron.

"Because I'm sure," Snape said, "that if you wanted him, you could have him."

"Well, I don't," Hermione said, glaring at Snape, knowing that if he said another word on the subject she would lose what little temper remained to her and prove her mental instability to everyone's satisfaction, when really all that was wrong with her was Severus Snape.

And Hermione could tell, by the insolent inquiring expression on Snape's face, that he thought she was lying and moreover doing a bad job of it; she was about to disabuse him when Madam Pomfrey bustled in with a tray of steaming goblets.

"Time for your medicine, dear."

Hermione swallowed the repulsive stuff suspecting Snape had done the brewing and was now watching her intently. She badly wanted to accuse him of having tried to poison her, but having tried and failed herself rather undermined the point.

"Honestly, Severus," said Pomfrey, "if you're really that busy, I can keep an eye on her."

"Thank you." Snape rose and gathered up his papers. "I expect I'll be seeing you," he said to Hermione.

She wasn't looking forward to it either.