Brave New Girl

Brave New Girl
Chapter Three:
Who Am I Fooling?

It was a common misconception, and one he readily endorsed, that Severus Snape paid absolutely no attention to his students. What would it matter to the Potions Master if Student A was dating Student B? And if Student C ended up bullimic or pregnant or gay, what would he care? In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that knowing their names came in handy whilst marking papers and handing out grades, he probably would have been just as content to sit back and give the lectures he knew would never sink into their dense heads thinking of them only as “Blonde Gryffindor” and “Pimply Hufflepuff.”

Or so thought most at Hogwarts, students and faculty alike. And if the general population had come to a conclusion that lead to a widespread avoidance of him, it was all for the better in Snape’s opinion. The rumor, however, could not have been further from the truth. After all, he may not care, but he surely paid attention. And on this particular afternoon, he noticed and mentally recorded two facts that he thought may prove important in the future. First, the Potion Master registered that, despite her nothing-less-than-chipper demeanor only an hour earlier, Hermione Granger’s face seemed to be set in a completely blank, dispassionate mask. Had he not suffered through six years of her already, he may have been tempted to believe she’s taken his warning about concentration to heart, but after seeing countless warnings go unheeded by the girl, he was fairly sure that caution was not the case. She also looked curiously made-up, and Severus was also moderately confident that if she had been a witch of any lesser quality, he would have been able to see clearly past the very nearly convincing glamor.

The second strange happening noticed by the Potions Master was the conspicuous absence of three students: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Pansy Parkinson. The former two were of little concern except for the joy that would come from punishing them for skiving and the possible connection to Hermione Granger’s suddenly black mood. The annual Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match was fast approaching, and it would not have surprised Snape in the least if the two had decided to bunk off their least favorite lesson in favor of some much needed extra practice. Parkinson, however . . .

Pansy’s absence was a bit of a mystery to Snape, though not one he’d ever waste time investigating. The girl had made it into Advanced Potions by the skin of her teeth, and though Snape was sure she’d never harbored any ambition greater than becoming Mrs. Draco Malfoy, he had to admit that the girl had been trying very valiantly to attain a passing grade. Therefore, Snape concluded, Parkinson must be genuinely sick to miss the day’s lesson. Still, with a final glance around the dungeon classroom, Severus Snape stowed all of these curious observations away at the back of his mind, ready to be pulled out whenever necessary as ammunition. With a flick of his wand instructions appeared on the black board and class had begun. Reminding himself of that awful Umbridge, he drawled a single sentence before settling behind his desk to mark tests.

“There will be no need to talk.”

Slinking behind her cauldron, Hermione breathed a silent sigh of relief. The potion was easy- she could prepare it in her sleep- but the mysterious absence of Ron and Harry invaded all of her thoughts. Ron and Pansy she could understand- probably off shagging somewhere- but where was Harry when she really needed him? Not that she’d have been able to talk during class, but still, right now she really needed her best friend.

With a sickening clarity, Hermione’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.

...Her best friend . . .

Of course that’s where Harry was- with Ron. Ron is Harry’s real best friend, a nasty voice whispered through her head, nearly causing her to slice her left index finger along with the peppermint the potion called for. Ron is Harry’s best friend, and even though he’s your best friend, he’s always going to pick Ron over you. There was a Muggle phrase she’d heard once- Bros before Hos. The boys, no matter what kind of jackass either had been, would always end up picking each other.

For the second time that day Hermione was brought out of her out head by the intrusion of Severus Snape’s hand slamming disgustedly to the desk in front of her. Startled, Hermione brought her eyes to meet the silent inquisition of Snape’s visage, eyes glittering like polished obsidian. Under his scrutiny she felt the telltale signs of emotion creep to her face, the way her eyebrows crinkled together and her lips pursed when she was about to cry. The Potions Master continued to stare her down as a lump formed in her throat and her eyes began to shine. But she would not give him- or Ron- the satisfaction of crying in public, and without breaking eye contact- barely blinking and hardly breathing- she managed to once again relax her face into the emotionless mask she’d worn since entering the classroom. Suddenly, Snape’s eyes swept from hers to the place where Ron should have been sitting. Eyes narrowed, he returned his gaze to Hermione and sneered before turning and sweeping off to harass another student.

Only after his departure did Hermione lower her head, a single tear forcing itself from her eye. Out of everything that had happened that day, somehow Snape’s silent disapproval had made her feel even more rejected, more ashamed of herself. Breathing deeply, she concentrated as hard as she could on the potion in front of her. It was why she had even bothered to leave her room, after all. Emotions be damned, she had NEWTs to consider.

Class ended much sooner than Hermione might have expected, leaving her with a half-finished potion and another glare from Snape. It was times like these when she could really understand why Harry hated him so much. Leaving the dungeons and storming through the Gryffindor common room as quickly as she could, Hermione didn’t even see Ginny until the younger girl had grabbed her arm.

“Hermione? Do you feel alright?” Ginny asked, concern etched on her every feature. Hermione swept her eyes across her friend quickly, trying to ascertain how much, if any, the girl knew of her brother’s transgressions. When she spoke, it was cautiously, as if trying to trap a spy.

“I’m fine. Why? Should I not feel alright?”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed slightly at Hermione’s tone. Before she’d only been worried. Now she was suspicious too.

“No, I suppose not. You just look stressed or something.”

Softening at the care evident in Ginny’s voice, Hermione smiled slightly, closed her eyes, and began to rub her forehead distractedly. Ginny was really very sweet, and Hermione didn’t know what she’d do without her.

Hermione’s heart very nearly stopped.

How much longer would she be able to count her as a friend? The only reason the two had ever even begun talking had been because of Ron, really, and if that common denominator became not-so-common to one of them, chances were that in addition to losing Ron and Harry, she would also lose her only girlfriend today. And without Ron, Harry, or Ginny, Hermione would be utterly and completely alone. No friends, no confidants, no one at all to talk to.

Hermione’s heart began to thud in her chest, and her breath started to come in sharp, rhythm-less pants and her mind raced. It seemed to her that the entire content of her brain was racing around in circles, being chased constantly by that little voice. The little voice that started out by simply repeating her most feared word.

...Alone... Alone . . . Alone, alone, alone... Always alone...

Poor ‘Mione . . . You thought you finally had friends, didn’t you? Thought that someone had finally accepted you? Someone finally loved you . . . But you’re still alone . . . You’ll always be alone . . . No one is ever going to love you, Hermione . . . You will always be alone . . .

Hermione’s eyes were still closed, but even she saw the flash that was followed by several shrill shrieks. Opening her now-tearing eyes, Hermione saw the flames in the Gryffindor hearth jumping radically.

“Holy Merlin, did you see that?” Ginny cried, her face a mix of awe and glee. “The fire just . . . exploded!” The youngest Weasley continued to gape at the fireplace even as the flames reverted to their normal, docile intensity. In that moment, it had never been clearer to Hermione that she was looking at Fred and George’s baby sister.

“Listen, Gin,” began Hermione, pulling herself away, “I’m fine, really. You were right, I’m just a little bit stressed. I think I’ll just go lay down for a while.”

“But dinner-“

“I’m not hungry, honest. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” After another suspicious glance from Ginny, Hermione gave her friend a small smile before scuttling off toward the Head Girl quarters.

“I’m fine. I promise.”

*********A/N**************
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