Love Vigilantes

“I declare a moratorium on things relationship. I declare a respite from the toils of liaison. I do need a breather from the flavors of entanglement. I declare a full time out from all things commitment.” (Moratorium, by Alanis Morissette)

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Hermione sprinted through the halls, trying to get back to the common room before she lost her composure again. In her mind, she felt as though she was trapped in one of the strange horror films she watched back at home with her parents, as if some horrible creature or serial killer was chasing her through the school. Actually, now that Hermione considered it, this felt exactly like all the other times at Hogwarts when horrible creatures were chasing her, but, this time, Hermione was only running from herself. At that moment, she almost wished that she was being pursued by a Mountain Troll, Acromantula, Werewolf, Dragon, Dementor, or even Voldemort himself, rather than the face situation she was avoiding. When she reached the portrait hole, she practically threw herself into the common room, thrilled to see that Ron actually had kept his promise to wait up for her. She had a rather unsettling theory that was sinking uncomfortably to the pit of her stomach, and she needed to test it as soon as time would allow.

Ron looked up as she entered and asked how her evening had been. “Oh, hello, Hermione! Did you get your first assignment? Do you think-”

“Ron, kiss me,” was her only terse response to his questions, soliciting nothing more than a dazed stare from him in return.

Ron was sure he was imagining things. This was Hermione, not just another boy-crazed, hormonal Hogwarts teen. Knowing Hermione, she would test him to make sure he had done his homework and could tell her the twelve uses of Dragon’s Blood, before giving him permission to snog her. The startled girl he was looking at now couldn’t possibly be Hermione. Could she? Ron endeavored to find out.

“WHAT? Hermione…did you say what I think you just said? You only agreed to go out with me about four hours ago! Don’t you think you’re rushing things a bit? What’s the matter? Something must have happened tonight for you to be like this. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve certainly thought about kissing you, but I don’t think –”

“RON, I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK, JUST KISS ME, DAMMIT!” Hermione demanded as she stood panting in the center of the room waiting, the wild look in her eyes startling Ron. It was true that he wanted to kiss Hermione, he had for some time now, but he didn’t want to ruin their new relationship by moving too fast. He was still barely able to accept that Hermione’s earlier agreement to try for a relationship with him was, in fact, real and not a dream. He would never have imagined her to be the kind of girl to jump into things like this. Even still, with every fiber of his being telling him not to give in to her, that she wasn’t in her right state of mind, Ron made his way over to where Hermione was standing and kissed her. They started off slow and awkward, neither of them knowing what forces had exactly brought them to that moment nor how to handle what they had initiated. Regardless, Hermione felt herself relax as their kiss progressed, letting her hands work their way up to wrap around Ron’s neck, pulling him closer to her. At her encouragement, their kiss was deepened, and Ron grasped Hermione’s waist in response. She felt…she felt….she felt….nothing. Hermione suddenly arched into him, expecting to feel something more, hoping that, somehow, she could force stars to explode behind her eyes or make her head swim with intensity, but it didn’t come. She didn’t feel anything.

“FUCK!” Hermione screamed, as she quickly pulled away from Ron and ran upstairs to her room, leaving him unbelievably confused and wanting much more of Hermione.

Hermione slammed the door to her room and burst into tears, her experimental kiss with Ron proving her ‘theory’ correct.

How the hell did I let this happen to me? What the fuck am I going to do now? No wonder I’ve been losing so much sleep over this. No wonder I’ve been overanalyzing, and worrying, and thinking about him all the fucking time. I can’t believe it! I...I...I...I must fancy Professor Snape! What other explanation can there be? Bugger…this isn’t going to be good.

Hermione gasped as she finally admitted the truth to herself and sat down on the edge of her bed. She didn’t know when her feelings had changed, perhaps they never had. She had always been fascinated by the Potions Master since their first year, hanging on to every word he spoke about the art of potions making as though her life depended on it. She loved it when professors were passionate about their work, and Snape was certainly one such professor. She may not have appreciated his snarky attitude or disdain for her intelligence, in fact she most certainly did not, but there was no way for her to deny that she deeply respected him.

She admired his intellect. Hermione was painfully aware that people of true intelligence were hard to come by, especially among her peer group, and she couldn’t help but notice the quiet knowledge that Snape seemed to exude. Although she questioned his particular methods of instruction, she appreciated that he didn’t coddle his students. Snape held her peers responsible for their actions and study habits; she knew that a passing grade was well earned in his classes. And, despite his seemingly constant ridicule, this made her feel good about herself. She didn’t know why, but all she had ever really wanted during her years at Hogwarts was for Snape to acknowledge her, to be proud to have her as a student. She knew she was brilliant, but, for one reason or another, she had an irrational longing to hear the words directly from his mouth. It was a desire that she hadn’t been able to explain, until now.

As her thoughts continued, Hermione began to realize that her admiration for Snape went beyond the realm of scholarship. She noticed it after their first meeting about the independent study. Meeting with him alone was something Hermione had never experienced and, for some reason, it made him appear more human to her. There were no snide remarks or whispers about him coming from other students for her to filter out as she listened to him talk. It had been just him and her. She was actually beginning to see who he really was, well, at least some glimpse of it. Seeing that side of him, his exhaustion as a result of the difficult life he led, had made her feel something for him that she couldn’t describe. She felt angry and concerned that he was sacrificing himself for so many people, but was impressed by his strength and courage all the same. He worked too hard and got too little respect. It seemed as though the past two days had brought up emotions in Hermione that must have been dormant for years.

Earlier, when Snape had whispered her name in his sleep, a warmth had enveloped her that set her on edge. She willed the feeling to disappear, but part of her never wanted it to end, the memory of it reminding her how exquisite something as simple as his voice could make her feel.

What just happened to me? Hermione thought, never imagining that so much could occur in one evening. God, the way Snape said my name tonight made me wish he had been awake saying it. But why did he say my name? My first name? I should have had the nerve to ask him! Of course, he wouldn’t have told me the truth. Maybe he’ll fall sleep again during our next session…hmmm...OH GREAT…now I’m a creepy student who has a thing for her Professor and enjoys watching him sleep. Scratch that, I’m a creepy student who has a thing for her Professor and enjoys watching him sleep even though she already has a boyfriend! Hermione’s inner monologue had completely pulled her attention away from the fact that she still had Ron to worry about. Her thoughts immediately turned towards him.

I thought I knew what I wanted. I was happy to think of being with Ron, but what now? I can’t believe I made him kiss me...but I had to know! Snape made me feel something by doing so little and, with Ron... I should have felt something! How could I have felt...nothing? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING? REALLY? But what can I do now? I’ve already said I’d go out with him, and it’s not like I’m going to get anywhere with...or anything from Snape. I don’t really want to hurt Ron, he’s been waiting so long for this. It’ll all be fine. I’ll stay with Ron and, over time, I’ll stop thinking about Snape any more than I should. We can be...friends, if he’d even be ok with that. It’s worth a shot. What do I have to lose? Everything will be fine…completely fine. I will forget that I ever stopped to think of Severus Snape. I’m probably imagining all of this anyway; I haven’t been sleeping or eating well lately. Yes, I must just be tired. I can’t like Snape. What a preposterous idea. I will be happy with Ron. We will be happy.

Somehow, Hermione didn’t have very much faith in her own promises and was dreading Potions the next morning. She couldn’t imagine how she would be able to tear her focus away from Snape; she had so many things to think about, all of which concerned him. Now that she needed to deal with her own feelings for Snape, or Severus as she now felt inclined to call him, she was going to have to be very, very careful. She couldn’t have anyone noticing how she changed by being around Snape, whether working with him or just listening to him lecture; her life would be a living hell, of that she was sure. It wouldn’t do to appear as though she was paying close attention to him. But she had a plan, and would throw all of her efforts and emotions into her relationship with Ron. Despite her apprehension about the next day, she succumbed to the exhaustion that had been gripping her since the new term began, slipping off to sleep. But she couldn’t escape her thoughts, not even in her dreams, as her mind’s eye saw him waiting, calling for her.

Hermione.