Love Vigilantes

“When this memory fades, I’m gonna make sure it’s replaced with chances taken, hope embraced. And have I told you I’m not going? ‘Cause I’ve been waiting for a miracle, and I’m not leaving. I won’t let you give up on a miracle, when it might save you.” (Miracle, by Paramore)

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Hermione sighed as she stopped stirring her cauldron to tie her hair up. It had been over five hours since she started working, but her high had yet to wear off. She savored the steam that rose as she stirred her meticulously planned creation, and reveled in the rhythm she found when chopping ingredients. Her work was therapeutic, almost making her forget that the man with whom she was currently infatuated was right in the next room and that she was one door away from his private chambers. In fact, her potion making did just that, replacing her anxiety over Snape with an entirely different brand of concern.

Her dream, aside from providing her with the horrifying vision of her professor’s death, had made her painfully aware of the true magnitude of her project. Until now, Hermione had considered it to be just another task to add to the load of her course work, but, in light of recent events, she realized that her potion truly had the potential to change the course of the looming war. Taking the power of the Cruciatus Curse away from Voldemort would surely be a monumental blow to his coercive influence; not only would lives be protected, but information would be safeguarded as well.

Hermione was determined beyond measure, but her own fears of failure were nagging at her from the back of her mind. Since childhood, Hermione’s greatest fear had been of failing or of having others disappointed in her. She placed an incomprehensible amount of pressure on herself and, as such, was terrified by the thought that her potion might not succeed. She could already hear the remarks and glares of displeasure from both Severus and Dumbledore floating around in her head like the ghosts that haunted the corridors of Hogwarts. She recalled, with fondness, her early academic career. She had been simply satisfied with her natural tendency to excel. She didn’t have to push herself to extremes; achieving came naturally to her, and she saw no reason to interfere with the inclinations given to her at birth. She remembered the days in which she went to school not to obsess over the day’s tests, quizzes, and assignments, but to be with her friends. School had been fun for her, once upon a time. Hermione balked at how she had changed, and mused over the length of time it had been since she felt ‘good’ or, dare she say it, happy? She loved Harry, Ron, her other friends, and Hogwarts, but was she really happy? She was unspeakably proud of her achievements, but did they constitute her happiness? Was she missing something? She honestly couldn’t provide herself with an answer to her inquiries; it was a horrible sensation. She felt the all too familiar tension of her muscles and constricting of her throat, but her impending panic attack was interrupted, as Severus called her name from the adjoining classroom, where he was presumably still grading.

“Hermione, would you mind placing your work on hold for a moment? I would like to speak with you.”

“No, I don’t mind at all, Severus. I’ll be right there. I’m just going to charm the cauldron so that it will stir itself.” Right before she exited, she glanced back at her potion; she was well aware that it could be ruined in a second, and was very afraid to leave it alone. She entered to find the professor in his usual position, seated behind his desk. She unwittingly smiled to herself, before he looked up at her in some semblance of a greeting.

“Hermione, you must be starving. You’ve been working in there for nearly six hours.” In an attempt to disguise his fixation on Hermione’s own well being, he quickly added, “But, regardless of your current dietary needs, I’m starving. If your work ethic is anything of what I expect it to be, I’m sure that you’d rather eat with as little distraction as possible.” He continued, encouraged by her nod of approval at his assumption. “In that case, let me suggest that I prepare some sort of supper. Do you have any allergies that I should be aware of beforehand? I would never forgive myself for killing the brightest witch of our age as a result of a neglected peanut allergy. I understand such aversions are quite common.” He chuckled at his own statement and was happy to discover that Hermione seemed to be amused as well. Laughter suited her.

“Well, I am rather hungry, now that you mention it,” she began. “And it’s not like you have anything edible in that lab of yours. At least, there’s nothing that I could eat without being immediately poisoned, or having some other horrendous fate befall me. And, no, I don’t have any food allergies. Nor am I picky about what I eat. I’m sure anything you could make would be delicious. Surprise me; I enjoy a little risk.” Hermione blinked quickly as she realized that she had just been openly flirting with her professor. Hoping that he didn’t notice, she attempted to continue the conversation and give it a quick and painless ending.

“I’m going to return to the lab and check on my potion. Call me when dinner is ready. I’m looking forward to it, Severus. You have been far too kind to me. I’m sort of worried, to be honest. Your general hospitableness has been most unexpected.”

“For you and me both, Miss Granger. If anyone is to be worried, it should be me. However, I’ve found serving as your mentor to not be taxing in the least. I’ll admit that I was rather loath to begin working with you, but it has been much easier than I had anticipated. You’re quite amicable when you’re not focused on impressing those around you with your knowledge.”

“And you can be quite amicable when you’re not ripping me to shreds for it,” Hermione responded glibly. “It seems we both may have underestimated each other.”

“Indeed,” said Severus thoughtfully. He was secretly elated at this suggestion that her opinion of him was improving. “I’ll be in to retrieve you when dinner is ready. You should get back to your work.”

Immediately, Hermione ran back to the lab, shutting the door behind her; she was thrilled to see that nothing had visibly gone wrong with her potion. Her thoughts returned to Severus, as she continued stirring her potion, and she felt her pulse noticeably quicken at the thought of having dinner with him. She must have been talking from her stomach when she gave him her reply; she wished she had given more consideration to his offer. True, she was looking forward to spending time with the professor, but, at the same time, she was less than thrilled at being presented with an opportunity to let her feelings slip. Hadn’t she already flirted with him one too many times this evening? She hadn’t even been aware of it until the words escaped from her lips; she clearly had no control over the situation. Hermione made the mental note to count to two before ever responding to Snape in the future.

Her mind continued its abstract ramblings, and she absentmindedly poured the salamander blood and pomegranate juice into her potion, snapping back to reality as she realized that she had just added the final two ingredients. Hermione’s eyes shot downward to look into her cauldron, but she saw nothing different. Her potion was the same dull brown that it had been three hours ago. If Hermione’s formulations had been correct, she was certain it should have turned some brilliant, sparkly, vibrant, yet to be determined color. Undetermined, but sparkly nonetheless.

“FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK,” Hermione screamed as she paced around the lab, trying to figure out what she was missing. She desperately grabbed for her notebook, tearing through her notes in an attempt to find the missing link. She didn’t bother looking up as Severus stormed into the lab. It was doubtful that she would have even noticed if he had hexed her.

“Hermione, what happened? Did something go wrong?”

“What do you think? Everything has gone wrong, Severus,” she exclaimed, and started shaking from her anger. “I added the final ingredients, and nothing happened. Not a bloody thing! I don’t know how I could have been wrong. It all should have worked! Ugh, I might as well dump it.” Hermione raised her wand with tears in her eyes, ready to vanish the potion in one fell swoop, but was stopped suddenly, as Severus grabbed hold of her wrist, locking his eyes with hers.

“Hermione, stop. I can’t let you do that. This will work. You can’t expect something like this to be perfect on your first try. This is, by far, the most complex and comprehensive list of ingredients I’ve seen, dare I say, in the history of potion making. You’re just missing something, and you will find it. Do you realize how many lives you could save with this? Witches and Wizards would be talking about your achievement for years, decades even. Your creation would be a miracle, and I won’t stand by while you give up on it. Do you understand me? Just come have dinner, and think about the potion later. Step back from it. The cauldron will still be here after you eat.” Without letting go of her wrist, he guided her to the table he had set for them in his study. She grudgingly followed.

“Alright, fine Sever- oh my God. It’s beautiful!” Hermione gasped in shock as she saw the room before her, only lit by the candles in the center of the table and the reflections that mirrored off of the silver table settings. It was simple, but exquisite in a way Hermione had never seen; everything at Hogwarts seemed to be a tad too ornate for her tastes. She was astonished by the trouble to which Severus had gone.

“Hm…green and silver? Always a Slytherin through and through, aren’t you, Severus?” Hermione commented, noting his choices in decoration. She hadn’t expected anything less from him, and already assumed that everything he owned fit the color scheme of his own House. “I hate to admit it, but green has always been my favorite color. Don’t let that get back to anyone in my House, though; I’ll have to kill you if you do.” She smirked at the fact that she had just threatened Severus Snape, knowing that there was no way she could harm him, even if she wanted to. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. It’s lovely. And you cooked steak? Do you have any idea how much I adore steak? This is perfect…”

Severus walked across the room and pulled out one of the chairs for her. He silently waited for her to sit and watched as she visibly let go of her earlier tension. He made no attempt to put himself in a favorable light; his efforts were not by any means self serving. He only wanted Hermione to eat; he had duly noted that she couldn’t have possibly been partaking of three square meals a day. She looked peaked. Severus smiled as he sat down to join her, pleased that he had succeeded in calming Hermione, if only for a moment, and watched as she began to devour the food he set before her.

“You certainly underestimated yourself when you said that you were merely hungry, Hermione.” He waited to address her until she had finished eating. He was hardly afforded the opportunity to do otherwise; Hermione had barely come up for breath once during their meal. Consequentially, there was nothing for Severus to do but eat in amused silence. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat like that in my life.”

“I’m sorry, Severus. I know I’ve been incredibly unladylike, but, yes, I was famished. Actually, come to think of it, I’m pretty exhausted as well. I don’t think obsessing about this potion tonight will give me the answers I need. Thank you for getting me to realize that. I apologize for not being a better dinner companion or providing any riveting conversation, but I think I’ll head back to Gryffindor Tower, if you don’t mind. Thank you again for dinner. It was wonderful. Don’t brag about it, but the steak was better than any my father has ever made. Take it as a hefty compliment; that man knows his cuts of meat. I’ll see you tomorrow.” As she rose from the table, Severus grabbed her wrist again, preventing her from walking towards the door. She spun around to face him and felt a spark pass through her at the touch of his hand.

“Hermione…you’re so…welcome.” He abruptly let go of her and stared at his hand as he heard her leave, wishing that he hadn’t let her go. But he realized the necessity of her departure, however regrettable it was. He had almost forgotten himself again. He couldn’t understand how his years as a spy failed to prepare him for this. Severus could endure the Cruciatus Curse without uttering a single syllable, yet, at the mere sense of Hermione’s presence, he felt compelled to divulge his most well hidden secrets. Remembering what chaos would be caused were his feelings to be discovered, Snape steeled his mind once more, and returned to his grading.

Out in the dungeon corridor, Hermione reflected on the evening. She hadn’t anticipated leaving so soon, but felt herself in danger of revealing her growing fascination with the professor. His thoughtfulness had been unexpected, and it pleased Hermione to know that Severus was able to tolerate her presence. Still, she needed time to collect herself before spending another extended period of time working with him. As she walked back to her rooms in Gryffindor Tower and completed her work for the next day of classes, she found herself wishing that there were some way to turn off her own brain. She needed a break from thoughts of her potion and of Severus Snape. A long, quiet, uninterrupted break.