Title: Inescapable
Chapter: Adaptation
Author: Irishpiratess
Word Count: 5125
Genre: Drama/Romance, a bit of mystery (at its most mundane).
Warnings/Labels: time travel fic, some (unrequited) slash, HPBcompliant, mentions of alcoholism and depression, secret relationships, flashback fic. The only ships I can divulge without somehow giving away some point of the plot are HPGW (I usually don't like them- but their relationship isn't spotlighted in this fic), NLLL, and ADMM (but also not spotlighted, only mentioned in passing, as Dumbledore is dead).
Summary: Seven years after the simultaneous deaths of Harry Potter and Voldemort that marked the end of the war, the Minister of Magic fumbles to make up for past actions against the nine remaining of the Order. Unknowingly, he uncovers a long-hidden secret that a certain member Order had hoped never to divulge. Immediately following this, the nine are stuck together in a broken-down elevator, where they begin to learn the most precious secrets of one Hermione Granger. Can she learn to trust them all, or will she be too prideful and conscious of their reactions to divulge?
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Wow, look, an update, just like I promised! I'm so proud of myself. I even know what the next chapter's gonna be about! I- I'm just so, so proud of myself right now.
Okay, I'm not, but whatever. Here's your next chapter. Next update soon, but unsure of a date. I have a lot of homework to do this weekend, which will make writing this seem very appealing, so I'll probably get this done then. Enjoy!
When Tonks, Luna, and Ginny reappeared in the Gryffindor dormitories, it was to find Hermione sobbing relentlessly on one of the familiar four-poster beds- presumably Harry's or Ron's, as the boys and the seventeen year old Ginny were sitting next to her, dumbfounded as to why she was acting so strangely.
"Oh, Hermione, if I'd only known," the present Ginny whispered, shaking her head at the scene.
Harry, Ron and Ginny seemed to be debating amongst themselves about who was to find out what had happened to Hermione. Ginny was silently pointing to herself, giving the boys pointed looks that clearly told them she doubted their ability to be sensitive about it. The boys relented, nodding to Ginny, who attempted to soothingly lure Hermione away from the bed and back to her own dormitory to discuss what was wrong.
"No!" Hermione cried out in a strangled voice. "No, no, I'm fine- I… I've just had a terrible dream, and- I just want to sit with you three."
Looking surprised, the three acquiesced, moving closer to the girl to show their support. Hermione drew herself up into a ball, avoiding their eyes, and buried her face in her knees.
"Hermione?" Harry asked tentatively. "Erm, I'm not- I don't under- you seem… different."
"I- what do you mean?" Hermione's voice came out strangled and nervously high pitched.
"Well… your robes fit you yesterday… but now they look two sizes too big."
This was true; over the course of the past year, she had worried herself much too much, and often forgot to eat. The result was that it seemed to her friends as if she'd lost fifteen pounds overnight, something that was a dangerous giveaway in her position. She was sure that if she stood at that moment, the hems would be at least an inch too short, as well.
"Oh," she responded, choking on her words. "No, no, these are- these are just different robes."
"No, they're not," Ron frowned. "Neville spilled that potion on your sleeve last week, and he tried to scourgify it, but it turned that spot white. Look, it's right there."
Sure enough, there was a small but highly visible white spot on her sleeve, right near her elbow. Panic rose in her throat, and she covered her face more thoroughly.
"I don't know, Ron." Hermione sniffled, sitting up. "I'm sorry I'm acting so- I just mi- I'm sorry."
The three teens awkwardly arranged themselves around the sobbing girl, seeming confused. Harry and Ron sent each other confused glances, and Ginny merely shrugged, shaking her head, before leaning on her boyfriend.
The present Ginny's breath caught in her throat, unable to avoid staring at herself with her would-be husband any longer. Slowly, she padded over the couple, eyes growing wide.
"Gin…" Tonks called out, a warning tone to her voice. "Don't… do anything you'll…"
But the metamorphmagus didn't have the heart to finish, the protective instinct she felt towards the younger woman flickering away at the transfixed look on Ginny's face. Ginny quietly sat on the bed next to Harry, positioning herself so that she could closely see the looks on both his face and her own.
"Ron was wrong," she said quietly, voice heavy. "We did love each other, very much."
Neither of the witches knew what to say, and so didn't say anything at all.
"Come on, Hermione. Merlin, if you're going to make us late for the first time in the entirety of our school career, does it have to be Snape's class?"
Hermione gave Ron a dark look, clearly annoyed by the boy. He, of course, was oblivious, and merely grabbed her hand, swiped her bag off the Common Room ground, and pulled her out the portrait hole. Harry and Ginny were already waiting out in the corridor, saying goodbye before Ginny headed off to her own classes.
It was the first day since Hermione had returned to the present, and she could not find the will to leave the Common Room, weighed down by a sense of simultaneous loss- of the seventeen year old boy she had loved- and utter dread at finding what she had left behind the day before, with twenty years to stagnate in his own loss. The dread, in particular, was palpable; or so it seemed to her, and to the three witches who knew what she had been through.
Harry and Ron, of course, could not feel it, and merely continued on their way to class, throwing in the occasional insult to the Potions-Master-turned-Defense-teacher. A flicker of hurt danced across Hermione's face each time her friends carelessly tossed another cruel-minded jab out, but she didn't say anything.
"What's got you all down, 'Mione?" Ron asked. "You've been all weird since yesterday. You were fine until you went to talk with Dumbledore's portrait."
Hermione continued walking, not answering, nor even seeming to realize Ron was talking to her.
"Hermione?" Harry chimed in, with slightly more tact. "You alright?"
"I- what?" Her eyes grew wide as she realized that she hadn't been answering to her own name. "Y-yes, yes, I'm fine. Just a little distracted."
Harry frowned thoughtfully, opening the door to the Defense classroom. Ron quickly ducked through after him, holding the door for his girlfriend, but she faltered at the threshold, seeming uncertain. Steeling herself, she ducked her eyes and hurried in. Feeling herself fall back into the familiar pattern she'd followed for so long, she immediately turned to the right of the classroom, sitting in the middle row.
"Hermione? What are you doing?" Ron gaped at her. "That's the Slytherin side."
Cursing, the addled witch immediately hopped up, crossing the aisle and sitting instead in the same desk James, Sirius and Peter had always occupied. A smirk grew on her face as she remembered the love-struck way Sirius had glanced back at Remus, before it quickly fell away, her face turning white.
Sirius was dead.
"Oh, God," Hermione breathed. She managed to jump to her feet and run halfway to the door before she fell to the ground.
"However would I know, Poppy? It's not as if Miss Granger and I were close, personal friends." A sour voice washed over Hermione's senses, setting off some dire signal in her mind.
"I would certainly hope not- it couldn't possibly be a very healthy friendship for her, now, would it." Madame Pompfrey's voice floated back, clucking reproachfully with a somewhat joking tone. "You being so pleasant."
"Yes, quite," the sour voice responded. "Do you need me for anything more, Madame?"
"No, I think we're alright here now. Thank you for bringing up the extra Pepper-Up potions, Severus."
"I don't see why you couldn't have Horace do it. He is the Potions professor, is he not?"
"Yes, but you're the Potions Master, dear, even if you are teaching Defense. There must be some reason you're accredited that title and he isn't."
Hermione blinked slowly, suddenly realizing that she must be in the Hospital Wing, and that the familiar voice she heard was the older, sour version of the one she already missed.
"Are you alright, dear?" Madame Pompfrey asked her. "You seem agitated."
"I- no, no, I'm fine. What time is it?"
"Lunch has just begun, dear, but you're not going anywhere until we find out why you're fainting."
The matron quickly bustled over to Hermione's bed and began waving her wand in complicated motions that Hermione was sure were supposed to be diagnostic.
"I don't see any reason why you should've lost consciousness like that, dear. Do you remember what happened?"
"I- no, I don't know why, I just-"
Unbidden, Hermione's gaze flickered to Severus, who stood a few feet from the end of her bed, looking at her with a disaffected air. A sudden pang in her chest had her averting her eyes, and the girl looked back to Madame Pompfrey.
"I suppose it's just stress, Madame Pompfrey. I'm sorry to worry you," she murmured.
"Oh, now, now, dear, it's alright." The woman sighed in aggravation. "I don't understand how you teachers-" here she directed her dark gaze at Severus- "can still be piling so much work on you when there's already so much to be worried about-"
And Hermione tuned her out, eyes sliding back to her Defense teacher. Unconsciously, she reached up, tugging at a lock of her curly hair, chewing her lip in worry. If anything, the three witches observing thought she looked as if her teacher might attack at any moment, and it seemed he thought so, as well.
"I assure you, Miss Granger, you need not appear so frightened," he sneered at her. "I am not nearly so-"
But he trailed off, eyes narrowed and focused on how she twirled her hair, at how, while her body language definitely gave off a frightened air, the look in her eyes seemed to be pleading.
"I am not nearly so dangerous as some of the more incompetent fools you call friends," he finished softly.
"Severus, don't be crass with the girl, she's under a lot of stress," Madame Pompfrey harrumphed, shooing him away. "Thank you again for the potions. I won't keep you any longer."
Giving a curt nod, Severus quickly turned on his heel and disappeared from the room.
"Now, dear," the matron sighed. "Why don't you just eat lunch up here, and then you can go back to Gryffindor Tower and rest up for the rest of the day? You'll probably need it."
Oct. 18th, 197- 1997
I can't help myself. It's as if the past year took over the rest of my life. I haven't been answering to my own name all week, and I can't reconcile that it's 1997 now. It doesn't feel like it. I still feel as if I'm only just graduating between Warren Paddington and Lawrence Parkinson, wearing those forsaken green robes and booing as Gryffindor got the House Cup. This doesn't seem right
I fainted when I realized Sirius was dead the first day back. It wasn't enough that I sat in my Slytherin seat- thank Merlin Severus wasn't there to see that, or he'd know who I was immediately- but sitting in Padfoot's, thinking of how he drooled over Moony, while Harry sat next to me in James' seat and Ron in Peter's… It wasn't enough to lose him when I'd only known him as the haunted fugitive, but having known him as he was, as the carefree seventeen year old boy who still thought the most important thing was making sure his team won the Quidditch match? And Peter, my God, Peter- he was such a sweet boy all year, and I can't imagine how he fell into Voldemort's trap, I just can't- knowing that he's serving Voldemort as we speak sickens me, because he was the boy I helped with Transfiguration homework, who loved the cookies I baked and never said a mean thing to me or my Slytherin friends. And James and Lily- God, looking at Harry and Ginny together is painful, because it reminds me of them, and knowing they're going to have the life James and Lily should have had is so painful. I could have prevented it. I could have given them the life they deserved, and Harry the one he's always wanted- free of the ever-specific danger he's always in, with loving parents to care for him and make sure he's properly fed.
Seeing Severus was especially painful. He made some snide comment about how I was staring at him like he'd bite my head off any second- but I swear, there was one second, just one, where he recognized me. What am I doing? How could I have done that to Ron? How can I still be with Ron? He's nothing like Severus was- he's so tactless and oblivious, and I can't take that. I need my Severus back.
Tonight, I have to go retrieve the quill and the goblet from where I left them. It shouldn't be too difficult, but I am still nervous. We're not supposed to leave Gryffindor Tower in groups of less than four, and I'm going to be wandering around the dark grounds by myself in the middle of the night.
I have the first Defense class after my fainting spell tomorrow. I don't know what in Merlin's name I'm going to do.
A pair of watery brown eyes remained transfixed on one certain line in the dusty old journal- knowing they're going to have the life James and Lily should have had- unable to see any of the elegant script around it. Ginny drew in a shaky breath, finding she envied Lily in that, in her death, she was able to spend her afterlife with James, and could watch over Harry. Ginny could not say the same. Her James had left her behind, and her Harry had never opened his eyes.
Tonks and Luna sat on Ginny's couch, sipping her muggle beer and talking in low tones.
"I'm worried about her," Tonks murmured. "The few memories in the beginning were bad enough- but now she's going to get a year's worth of seeing him. I can't believe we're doing this. I know she had that dream again last night, and Hermione's memory only just mentioned Horcruxes being evil- how is she going to take the rest of the memories?"
"I spoke to Hermione before we went back in," Luna responded, nodding in agreement. "I told her she was being very selfish by not just telling us all who Sarah's father is and getting it over with. Ginny may have it the worst, but it's not exactly easy for the rest of us to relive the War, either."
Tonks carefully examined the inside of her bottle, avoiding this statement.
"Ahh," Luna observed quietly. "You're worried about Hermione's interaction with Remus."
"I- how did you jump from Ginny being upset to that?"
"You avoided my eye when I said it wasn't easy for any of us, implying there was something making you uneasy. Since you didn't lose any immediate family members, it's easy to assume it's because of your relationship with Remus."
"I'm a married woman, Luna," Tonks growled, letting her head fall back to the back of the couch. "And Remus and I were together very briefly, a long time ago. And… you need to stop jumping to conclusions with people's feelings like that. It's very disconcerting."
"Because I'm right?"
"Because it's… just stop."
Luna shrugged, levitating the beer out of her bottle and twirling the liquid around in patterns in the air, before darting forward and catching it in her mouth. Tonks tried not to sigh at the fact that Luna's behavior no longer surprised her.
"What about Hermione's interaction with Remus are you anxious to know about?" Luna asked casually.
"What about Hermione's interaction with- none of it! I have no right to be anxious about it."
"Which is not synonymous with 'I am not anxious about it.'"
"Shut up, Luna."
Shrugging, the blonde woman acquiesced, deciding to let the subject go- for once, Tonks thought with annoyed relief.
The air was sharp and wound in icy tendrils around Hermione's ankles as she stumbled across the dark grounds. The cold was somewhat inhibited by the invisibility cloak, but not enough to keep her from wishing she'd brought a heavier one to wear under it.
It was very irresponsible, she thought, for Harry not to notice when someone knicked a priceless heirloom of his.
Making her way through the dark, Hermione finally came within sight of the Whomping Williow, and gave a short huff, hurrying towards it. Levitating a stone to press the knot, she ducked under the frozen branches and into the secret passage. Though she couldn't boast as to being as tall as the boys, she still had to duck in the small corridor that had been too cramped when she was 14. But, eventually, it leveled out, and she emerged in the Shrieking Shack.
Unaware of the three witches watching the memory, Hermione climbed the dirty, rotted stairs and pushed open the door to the bedroom, a look of distaste spreading over an otherwise expressionless face. If only they had caught Peter, Sirius would still be alive. If she had only done something, Peter would have never had become the type to be caught. But so it was, and with a weary sigh, Hermione raised her wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa," she recited.
A cloud of dust burst into the air as the old, moth-eaten bed rose up and groaned its way to the opposite wall. A vacant spot was left in its place, and the shivering, grim witch heard the anxious squeaks of rats scampering back into the cracks in the walls. A shudder ripped through her as she was reminded uneasily of the present Wormtail. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, she cast a privacy charm on the house, as well as constructing a quick ward. It was shabby, but for a half hour at least, it would should at least hinder the entrance of any intruders.
With the heavy bed out of the way, Hermione stalked to the middle of the dustless square, eyes riveted to the floorboards. Directing her wand to them, she murmured something Tonks, Luna and Ginny couldn't catch- a spot on one floorboard flashed gold, an intricately carved letter H appearing on it. Hermione knelt next to it and yanked up her left sleeve, extracting a small dagger from her pocket.
"She isn't-" Ginny began to say, eyes wide, but was cut off as Hermione let out a stifled, high-pitched cry. Ginny groaned.
For a moment, Hermione held the dagger flat against the cut, letting her blood well against it. When she apparently decided she had recovered, she took the knife, now dripping with her blood, and stabbed it into the glowing H on the floor. Immediately, it seemed to seep into the gold letter, and the glow faded, finally showing the H as if it were a scorch mark on the floor. The shivering, bleeding witch took out a bandage and tied it around her arm, before prying up the loose board with her shaking hands.
Ginny, Luna and Tonks couldn't see what she did next, but when Hermione lifted the contents of the warded hiding place out, they saw an opened box; more importantly, the tops of a glittering feather and a dazzling goblet.
"The Horcruxes," Ginny breathed, stepping closer to peer over the witch's shoulder.
A creak in the hallway had Hermione's gaze shooting to the open door. No one seemed to be there, but she shot to her feet, cradling her package to her chest. A quick spell shot from her lips, and a red flash told her the ward around the hiding place beneath the floorboards was back in place- if a Death Eater could find traces of the Horcruxes' potent magic that had seeped into the warded spot over the past 20 years, let alone her own magical signature, there would be serious consequences. Within ten seconds, she had spare blood drops cleaned from the floor, the bed replaced, the dagger tucked away, and the box swaddled in the invisibility cloak against her chest.
"Hacidius Pur," she commanded, voice high with nerves, and the room was swathed in a white light. Before it could fade, she disappeared with a nearly inaudible crack.
The witches appeared in a dark alley- one they recognized to be behind the Hog's Head. Hermione uncovered the box and wrapped the cloak around herself once again- Tonks, Luna, and Ginny still saw the faint glow of the girl they were meant to follow- and exited the alley, creeping towards the street.
They emerged into the open, cold, late October air, and immediately set off back towards the school. Hermione let out a huff of annoyance at having to walk back up to the school in the dark, but clutched her concealed contraband closer, adrenaline pumping through her at what she knew was probably a false alarm.
Finally, after reentering the school and winding through the dark hallways, Hermione came to a stop and whispered a password to a portrait in the hall.
"Danielle, dear? Is that you? Why, I never thought you were-"
"Hush, Florence, please, just let me in," Hermione begged.
With a look of surprise at the trembling, disembodied voice asking for entrance, Florence the Flighty swung open to admit the girl she'd housed 19 years before.
Wards were recast before Hermione even took a look at the rooms she'd left only a week- or two decades- before. But a flash of silver interrupted her casting, and a pang of pain hollowed her chest. She knew that magic. Wards had been cast, recently if the strength of them was any indication.
"Oh, Severus," she murmured, the smiling face of the 17 year old swimming in her mind's eye.
Lights flared to life at her voice, the soft glow of fire emanating from brackets on the walls.
Hermione stopped breathing for a moment, eyes hungrily absorbing every detail. There was not a speck of dust in the place; she might have left it only that morning. Her record player sat in the corner of the kitchen, but she could see that the records were not in the same order they'd been when she'd left them- where she had left a Beach Boys album in the front of the crate, Eric Clapton now rested. When she cast her eyes back to the living room, she saw the carefully arranged row of bottles on the mantle. 13, she counted swiftly, and ducked her head, biting her lip sadly.
Slowly, she sank into the couch, letting out a tired breath. Again, she opened the box and set the deceptively innocent looking objects on the table. Another two decades had not diminished their beauty, and Hermione felt the urge to pick up the quill and begin writing.
"Accio Destroying the Darkness," she murmured.
The library door clicked open, and a thick tome flew out to her outstretched hand. She began rifling through, settling on a marked page.
"Accio parchment. Accio quill," she murmured again, not taking her eyes from the book.
She began scrawling down what looked to be a list of ingredients, among them ground basilisk fangs, phoenix tears, ashwinder eggs, and two hairs from the coat of an erumpent. She paled as the list grew longer, but continued on.
"This'll cost a fortune!" Tonks cried, eyes wide as she read the list over Hermione's shoulder.
"I don't understand," Ginny said. "The diary only needed a basilisk fang through it to destroy it. Why do these need a potion?"
"The diary was diluted," Luna responded quietly. "It also held your soul in it, with less of Riddle's. Your soul was pure and more willing to leave the diary, and to take Riddle's with it, where these have only Riddle's soul, which will not willingly abandon their shell at all. Therefore, they need more than just basilisk venom to destroy them."
The other two glanced at her, blank looks on their faces. She waved the diary at them.
When Hermione finished copying the extensive list of ingredients, she tucked the parchment into her robes and replaced the book. Then, settling the Horcruxes back into their case, she closed the lid.
"Pretty box for such evil contents," Luna murmured.
The other two nodded lightly, eyes falling to the box. The lid was onyx and delicately carved, and now, in their own time, was home to less evil, but still dangerous contents- so dangerous, in fact, that they had been long imprisoned behind a wall of books and heavy tomes.
When Tonks, Ginny and Luna were thrust into the next memory, it was of Hermione in her first class of the next day- Transfiguration. The class was nearly over, and McGonagall stood at the front, addressing her students.
"As you know, apprenticeships are available to seventh years students. Myself and the rest of the staff, excluding Professors Trelawney and Firenze, are accepting applications for those qualified students who are interested. The most qualified student-" Here, her eyes grazed over her favorite bushy-haired student, looking so uncharacteristically tired and unenthusiastic- "will be selected."
The Headmistress flicked her wand, and parchments darted to each student's desk.
"Professor?" Harry asked, confusion coloring his tone. "If Snape teaches Defense, why is he listed as accepting apprentices for Potions?"
"Professor Snape is still the Potions Master, Mister Potter. As such, he is more qualified to take an apprentice than Professor Slughorn, who does not wish to begin an apprenticeship regardless. In this case, former Professor Lupin, who is an accomplished duelist and near master of Defense, will be taking an apprentice for that subject."
A look of profound relief and satisfaction seeped across his features. Hermione's eyes fixated on Severus' name, brow furrowing, and Ginny's widened in understanding.
"Those ingredients," she murmured to Tonks. "As Potions apprentice, she'd have access to them, wouldn't she?"
Tonks nodded, smiling grimly.
If anyone noticed the sudden way Hermione paled as Professor Snape swept into the Defense classroom, they did not notice it. If a single student could see and understand the way her eyes suddenly watered, or how red the back of her neck turned, they chose to keep it to themselves. Harry and Ron did notice that Hermione did not raise her hand once, not even when no other student could answer, and sent her confused glances, but no more- her behavior was strange lately, and they reasoned that it must be the stress of the war finally catching up to her.
Severus Snape did not reason the same, and frowned as he turned to flick his wand at the board, his spidery handwriting scrawling across the board. For the past seven years, he had taken it for granted that Hermione would be a persistent nuisance, always the idyllic overeager student. Perhaps Minerva could see this as a blessing, but Severus only saw it as an annoyance. But she had been persistently odd the past week- he had noticed how drawn and small she looked, how her robes seemed to pool around her, much too big. She had fainted in his last class and allowed Poppy to excuse her from the rest of the day's classes- something unprecedented for the overzealous bookworm. And today, she huddled in her seat, looking directly at him, but not answering a single question- he was unsure she was even really paying attention. She had the look in her eyes of someone very far away that comes to be a familiar sight to any teacher.
But there was something about her stare that was different from any other student with a wandering mind. Some unusual quality, an unusual sharpness, how her eyes always followed him, but never seemed to understand what they were seeing. He couldn't tell why this was different from any other incompetent fool of a student who couldn't pay attention for longer than it took to open a book to the correct page, or why he even noticed the difference in her, but it unnerved him.
His composure suddenly slipped, eyes growing wide, as the sight of her staring up at him from the hospital bed flashed in front of his eyes, seeming strangely familiar. Little habits that the girl had began filing through his mind in an orderly way, streaming through his train of thought without his permission.
With a forceful shove, he shuttered his mind, becoming devoid of emotion as his Occlumency shields were reinforced. With nothing more than a small, steady breath, he continued on with the class.
Hermione hovered at the back of McGonagall's office, shrouded in the invisibility cloak- still stolen, unnoticed, from Harry- nervously eyeing the outraged face of Severus Snape.
"Have to?" He repeated bluntly, a tone of disbelief shading his cold voice. "Minerva, I don't have to do anything."
"As Master of your subject, it is in your duties to train an apprentice, should one be willing. Of course, you've always managed to avoid it before, but Miss Granger seems undeterred by your… particular style of teaching."
The black clad man froze, going very silent for a moment, before continuing as if he hadn't.
"Miss Granger?" Severus scoffed in disbelief, his voice sounding slightly anxious beneath the practiced nonchalance. "Why on Earth would she want to pursue a career in Potions? She never showed any special brand of enthusiasm for it before."
"She has informed me that she wishes to dedicate herself to helping to protect as many lives as she can," McGonagall replied, her voice stiff.
"Then why doesn't she become Poppy's apprentice, for Merlin's sake?"
"She wishes to improve on certain healing potions, and possibly to create new protective potions," the annoyed Headmistress replied dismissively. "In any case, your arguments are useless, Severus. You have no choice in the matter. You will take on Miss Granger as an apprentice, starting the first."
A snarl threatened to tear its way from his throat, but Severus controlled himself. With a curt nod, he swept from the office, ignorant of the invisible witch at his heels.
Slowly, Miss Granger seemed to return, if not to normal for her, normal by any other student's standards. Severus loathed that he even noticed her behavior, but shrugged this off. She was no longer outspoken and eager to prove herself in his classes, but she took notes studiously and paid attention. Strangely, though, she avoided looking at or talking directly to Potter or the Weasleys, choosing instead to keep quietly to herself.
What Severus loathed more than the fact that he noticed Miss Granger's behavior was that it was November 1st, which meant that tonight, he began lessons with her, training her to become his apprentice. It was three hours every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday too much of the Gryffindor, and he inwardly cursed Minerva her insistence on taking this apprenticeship. It was true that, as Potions Master, he did have to train the most qualified willing apprentice- but this had never been a problem before. It had always been- correctly- assumed by the 7th year students that Professor Snape did not want an apprentice, and so, each October, he received no applications. Sneering, he wondered what could cause Miss Granger to break this comfortable pattern. Her every action had been strange lately, and he wondered if the stress of the war had finally cracked the girl- but that didn't seem right. Again, her face that night in the infirmary flashed in his mind, and he frowned once more.
With a sigh, the overstressed Potions Master rearranged the papers on his desk, mentally preparing himself for his first session with Miss Granger.