Love Vigilantes

“Feels like the weight of the world. Like God in heaven gave me a turn. Don’t cling to me, I swear I can’t fix you. Still in the dark, can you fix me?” (Weight of the World, by Evanescence)

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Hermione woke up in a panic as she tried to remember what had happened the previous evening. Nothing felt real to her. She had lost all sense of time that night and only had flashes of memory with which to piece together what had actually occurred. She vividly remembered pacing around Severus’ prone form as she waited for Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore to arrive; it had seemed like an eternity. Images from her dream were projected onto her thoughts, manipulating her into confusing fantasy and reality; she was certain that they were too late to save Severus and that he was already dead. The Headmaster and Mediwitch had tried to convince her otherwise, but she was too distraught to believe them. Traumatized and exhausted, Hermione turned on Albus with her wand drawn dangerously the very second he suggested that she leave to return to her dormitory for the evening. Recognizing her compromised emotional stability, he had no option but to relent. Hermione finally lowered her wand victoriously and sat still as a stone while she watched Poppy attend to Severus. She was somewhat relieved; Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t be using the time and resources needed to heal him if he was already dead. She relaxed slightly after reluctantly admitting that her assumptions had been incorrect. She felt hopeful. After that moment of reassuring clarity, her memories became blurred. She could only assume that she fell asleep during his healing process; the next thing she could remember was waking up to the crimson red of the bed curtains that were pulled securely around her. She was in Gryffindor Tower.

She threw her arms over her head in embarrassment with the realization that someone must have had to physically move her back to her rooms. When the scattered memories she had of the night’s events finally came rushing back, her mortification deepened. She had acted like a complete maniac and was surprised that she hadn’t woken in St. Mungo’s instead of in her own bed. What was it that had made her snap so uncharacteristically? Staring at the canopy of her bed in silence, Hermione reflected on the past month and a half.

She shook her head in resigned fascination at the way her feelings toward Severus had progressed. Yes, he had been her least favorite person in the world after, of course, Voldemort, but she now realized that even her general dislike of him came from some source of admiration. She had hated him for his intelligence; not for that fact that he was intelligent, that was what she admired most about him, but that his intelligence refused to acknowledge her own. He made horrible, sweeping generalizations regarding the skills of the students in her year, and she wanted nothing more than to prove herself as the exception to his rule. Since hearing his first year speech, Hermione had what she considered to be an unnatural desire to please her professor, but now she felt more. She wanted him to like her, talk to her, and be her friend. Her wishes had been granted in rather quick succession, never allowing her the time to notice how she had changed, how he had changed, and how they had changed. It wasn’t until he was hurt that Hermione had realized how attached to him she had become. She was by no means surprised; she was spending practically all of her free time with him. It was only natural that she would come to care for him. She meant what she had said. She trusted him. She couldn’t explain it but felt it in her gut. And it pained her not to know whether her professor, her mentor, her friend was alright.

Although his body had healed, Severus remained unconscious for days, leaving Hermione alone and angry that the Hogwarts staff prevented her from seeing him. Dumbledore had informed the entire faculty that no circumstances would change this fact. He knew that it was cruel to keep her in the dark regarding Snape’s health, but was sure that if she were allowed visiting hours, she would then refuse to leave and need to be removed by force as she had been the night of the summons. It would be best for all those involved if such trauma could be avoided. He didn’t want the other students to notice that something was amiss and was confident that Severus would revive within the week.

Hermione remained unconvinced. The dark circles that began to form under her eyes from anxiety and lack of sleep worried Harry and Ron. They realized that she wasn’t alright and wanted to help her, but she refused to answer their questions and avoided them at all costs. Their best friend had changed, and they were certain that Severus Snape had something to do with it. They simply assumed that either he was being a right git to her, or her project wasn’t going well at all.

On the afternoon of the sixth day, Ron and Harry were with Hermione in the common room, watching her reading intensely as always, almost afraid to talk to her. Harry, finally building up his famed “boy-who-lived” courage, decided to break the thick silence that hung over them.

“Hermione, if you told us what you’re working on, we might be able to help you out with the answer. We really want to help.” Harry knew as soon as he spoke that Hermione was all but agreeable to his suggestion.

“No offense, Harry, but if Professor Snape and I are having trouble solving a Potions problem, do you really think that you and Ron, who neither care about the subject in the first place nor have any particular aptitude for it, could do anything to help? I realize I’ve seemed very distant and angry recently and I appreciate your concern and desire to help, but I need you both to back off. I’m sorry. If you really want what’s best for me, you’ll leave me alone.” Her tirade was interrupted by a peck at the window from one of the school’s owls. Harry and Ron watched as Hermione strode over to the bird, took the letter, and, seeing that it was meant for her, read it. They noticed that as she read it, the tension in her body seemed to melt away, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“What does it say?” Ron asked.

“I’m meeting with Professor Snape tonight. We’re working on the potion. Oh, thank God.” Hermione smiled as she looked down at the note in her hands, knowing that he was finally alright.

“Well it’s about time,” Ron responded to her news. “What the hell has he been doing for the past week?”

“Ron, that’s an extremely insensitive question. He very well could have been sick. How would you have felt then?” Hermione didn’t expect anything more from Ron with his clear dislike of Snape but she couldn’t help feeling slightly hurt by his crass comment.

“I would have felt just fine. It’s about time he gets paid back for making all of us so miserable.” Ron smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest, pleased at the thought of Professor Snape being miserable.

“God, Ron, that’s an awful thing to say. I’m going now. I’ll see you both later.” Hermione stormed into the corridor, shrugging off the odd protective anger that was welling up inside of her. She let herself into the Potions room, as she had become used to doing, and walked into the study to find Severus in front of the fire. The happiness that overtook her was indescribable, but she knew better than to express it, not wanting to appear to be throwing herself at him. She couldn’t even comprehend the awkwardness that would await them if he were to discover her feelings. She coughed lightly to make Severus aware of her presence, and he stood from his chair to face her. Aside from his significant loss of weight and color, he looked fairly healthy, his voice maintaining its defining strength as he spoke.

“Hermione, thank you for being able to come on such short notice. I’m sorry for my lengthy recovery; I’m sure you were hoping to get back to work before now.”

“Severus, why would you say something like that? Don’t apologize for your body. There was nothing you could have done! Certainly you realize how foolish you sound. I’m just glad you’re alright. I take it that you’re feeling better?”

“Yes, much better. Hermione, I’ve never been one to adequately express my appreciation for others if I indeed have such an inclination, but I want to thank you for your help. I wish that you had chosen to go back to your rooms as I had requested, but I cannot let your dedication and support go unacknowledged. I understand they literally had to drag you back to Gryffindor Tower; very admirable indeed.” He smirked at her as he noticed her discomfort.

“Yes. I suppose I was somewhat of a lunatic that night. I think at one point I may have threatened the Headmaster. He didn’t look too pleased with me.” Her eyes lit up as she heard him chuckle at her statement.

“Albus failed to mention that particular moment. Warming up to your Slytherin side are you, Miss Granger?” He tried to conceal his smile from her. However much he might try to convince himself otherwise, he had missed the witch now standing before him. He couldn’t resist the urge to laugh as her mouth dropped open in rage; he loved to push her buttons.

“I most certainly am not! I didn’t threaten him for the hell of it, Severus. You told me I could stay and heal you once I found help. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were going to prevent me, so I fought back. If anything, I should be threatening you! Do realize what sort of panic attack I had after you passed out? It was awful. It was like my nightmare was coming true.” She shuddered at the thought, finding that the room seemed to have suddenly grown colder.

“I won’t try to understand your concern, Hermione. You have no reason to care what happens to me.” He turned to face the wall, not wanting her to see the way his body language would most likely betray his inner conflict.

“Yes I do, Severus. I know that you’d like to maintain the façade that you still don’t like me on principle, but you’ve got to admit that we’ve grown to know each other fairly well over the past two months. I enjoy our work together; I like to talk to you. I missed this, missed you, terribly while you were unwell. I –" She stopped abruptly. She had said too much and struggled to think of an appropriate thought with which to end their conversation and change the topic. “I was incredibly worried, Severus. You were so hurt. I would have given anything to spare you that – WAIT THAT’S IT. I WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING TO SPARE YOU THE PAIN! NO WONDER I DIDN’T THINK OF IT BEFORE!” Hermione dashed into the lab without another word, Severus running right behind her. His eyes went wide as she grabbed a knife from the table and moved over towards her cauldron.

“Hermione, what on earth are you doing? Put that knife down, you might hurt yourself in such a state!”

“Exactly.”

Hermione looked straight into his eyes before slowly working the knife’s blade into the arm she was holding directly over the simmering potion she had kept stable over the past week. As soon as her blood trickled into it, the murky brown liquid suddenly began sparkling; it almost immediately produced a vibrant green hue that filled Hermione with such joy that she forgot the pain in her arm entirely.

“I knew it! Severus, we’ve done it! The potion’s worked! I’ll have to thank Harry at some point for that, I suppose. It just hit me that my desire to make this potion work and the sacrifice that I would willingly make to spare any wizard the pain of torture would make my blood strong enough to fortify the potion, just like Lily’s sacrifice for Harry. I can’t believe it really worked.” Hermione swayed as she looked down to the sight of her own blood dripping to the floor.

“Severus….I don’t feel so –” And before she could finish her sentence, Snape rushed forward to catch her falling body as she fainted. He quickly bandaged her arm and carried her back to her common room, practically kicking through the portrait in his haste to return her to the comfort of her own bed. But as he entered, Ron and Harry approached him, driven by the sheer heat of their rage. As Harry opened his mouth to speak, Ron uncharacteristically pushed him back.

“No, Harry. I’m going to handle this.” His face reddened as he noticed the fresh bandage on Hermione’s arm, and he instantly let go of any reservations he may have had in telling off his professor. “What have you done to Hermione, you twisted fuck? She hasn’t been the same since she started working with you and now she’s hurt. I want to know what the hell you’re working on and why it’s killing our best friend. You’re screwing with the one person that I care about the most, and I swear if you ever hurt her again I’ll….I’ll –”

“You’ll what?” Snape interjected. “You’ll kill me? Well here I stand. Go right ahead. I haven’t done anything to your friend. I’ll have you know that she just completed what is possibly the most incredible potion in all of wizarding history. It so happened that she discovered one of the necessary ingredients to be a sacrifice of her own blood, hence the bandage. She did it to save you twittering idiots, so before you go accusing me of harming the most brilliant witch of our age, consider the facts. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am going to let Miss Granger get some much needed rest. I suggest you do the same.”

“Why the hell should I believe you Snape? You’ve given us no reason to trust you. If I find out that you’re not telling the truth, I will kill you. You will regret the day that you –”

This time a different, much weaker, voice interrupted Ron, as Hermione began to wake up. “Ron,” she muttered through her emotional and physical haze, “just trust him. Let it go. He hasn’t hurt me.” Her eyes fell shut again, and Severus brushed by Ron briskly on his way to deliver her to her rooms.

Ron was still standing in the same spot when Snape came back down but didn’t speak until his professor was halfway through the portrait.

“I meant what I said, Professor. Hermione means the world to me, and I’ll never forgive you if you hurt her.”

“I know.” Snape replied curtly before swinging the portrait shut behind him, leaving Ron dazed and confused in his wake.