Goodnight, Demon Slayer

Goodnight, Demon Slayer
Chapter Twenty-Three:
Love Ridden

"No, thank you, Dr. Granger. I'm sure we'll be fine," Harry called over his shoulder as he backed into Hermione's room, a largeish tray of snackd drd drinks in his hands. Once inside, he set down the tray and closed the door behind him. It was only after he was sure the door was closed and locked that Harry ventured a gaze at his best friend, lying in her bed.

Harry had kept his promise and had not only made sure Hermione got home alright but also that he took care of her as long as she needed. He and Hermione had arrived back at her house only minutes after the Grangers had arrived home from their vacation, and Harry had been very good about explaining that both he and Hermione had been involved in the final battle against Voldemort, and though she was physically fine, Madam Pomfrey had suggested that Hermione get as much rest as she wanted in order to deal with the vast emotional and mental trauma that she has sustained as a result of all the blood and guts and stuff. Severus had been injured, you see, and that's why he wasn't with Hermione. He was in St. Mungo's, but was doing very well, and should be ready to teach when school started. The startled Grangers had been too shocked to do anything but capitulate to Harry's requests. They never asked for details on the battr onr on Severus' injury for which Harry was glad because he really had no idea what he would tell them if they asked. But then again, he figured anything would be better than explaining how he'd raped their daughter in front of countless others then fled from her side when she needed him most.

Hex, Harry decided. If they ever asked, Snape had been hexed. The Grangers understood little about magic, and throwing out the mention of a random hex would probably suffice.

Now, two weeks into his care of her, Hermione was still lying in her bed, apathetic and unfeeling. She left only to use the bathroom and for an occasional shower. It hurt Harry to see her like this, especially since school would be starting soon. He'd never seen Hermione so unexcited about school, and quite frankly it was kind of scary.

Sitting in a chair next to her bed, Harry offered her a glass of juice which she stared at, unmoving, for a second before Harry lowered it to her bedside table.

"Right then," he muttered, supportive of his friend but very close to being annoyed by her. Ron was the one who gave up, not Hermione. Harry was the whiner, not Hermione. It was like Bizarro world. "'Mione. You've got to get up. You've got to do something. I mean, lying here... doing nothing... You're just going to get fat, and we all know that fat chicks are never Head Girl. You're jinxing yourself, really."

Finally. The comment brought a tiny smile from Hermione and an even tinier laugh, but it gave Harry hope.

"Come on," he prodded gently, teasingly. "Go take a shower. We're going to Diagon Alley today with the Weasleys. It's tradition. You have to come. And then my glasses will break, and you'll say 'Honestly, Harry, aren't you ever going to learn how to fix these yourself?' and Ron is going to say something stupid and you're going to give him a dirty look and possibly smack him. It's what's been done for years. You can't deny tradition." Harry looked at her for a long while, and Hermione, for her part, looked as if she were thinking the scenario through for all of its potential failings. True, that ritual had been performed for years now, but now everything was different. Their trips to Diagon Alley were for children. They somehow seemed too happy or too much fun for someone who'd gone through Hermione's experiences to endure. Somehow she now felt too old to be with them, to go buy books and eat ice cream.

"I can't, Harry," she whispered, her voice rusty from lack of use. "I... don't belong there anymore. I've been through too much. It wouldn't be right. You lot should go and have fun."

It was too much. Harry had had enough of her self-pitying crap!

"Hermione, what in the blue hell are you talking about? You had sex? Big deal! If only virgins were allowed on Diagon Alley, you would have been buying your books alone for the last two years! And Ron wouldn't have been joining us since fourth year! Yeah, you've been through something terrible, but it's no reason to pull away from everything you love. Hello? Boy-Who-Has-Been-Threatened-By-Evil-His-Whole-Life, here! If I went and hid everytime something totally shit happened to me, I'd be lonely and pathetic like you're fixing to be! Honestly, Hermione. I know you feel awful, but as someone who's been through a lot of crap, let me give you this advice. Snap out of it! You've got your whole life ahead of you, and if you're going to shut down every time something even remotely evil happens to you, you're never going to make anything of yourself except a fat, smelly, bedridden witch who lives alone with her fourteen cats! Now, go on. Take a shower. I wasn't lying about the smelly part."

Hermione had begun to cry during Harry's tirade, and refused to look him in the eye, but as her sniffles died down, she finally lifted her head and turned her red-rimmed eyes to the Boy Wonder.

"Ron lost his virginity fourth year?" she asked, a mixture of curiosity and disgust on her face. Harry couldn't help but laugh. That was the Hermione he knew.

"Yeah, you don't wanna know."

"Who was it?"

"Honestly, Hermione. I can see the jealous rolling off you in clouds. You don't want to know."

"No, I'm not jealous. I'm in love with another man, remember? Come on, Harry. You can tell me."

Sighing heavily, and ignoring years of better judgement, Harry told her.

"Millicent Bulstrode."

"WHAT?!?! You're right, I am going to smack him!"

Harry smiled proudly then. That was his girl.

"Yeah, I told you you wouldn't like it. Now go bathe before I pass out. We're flooing to Diagon Alley in an hour." Smiling at Harry for the first time in two weeks, Hermione got out of bed and quickly gathered her things.

"I'll be right back," she promised, walking out the door. "And Harry... thank you."

"Anytime, Stinky." Watching Hermione leave, Harry felt a great pride and a snicker crossed his face. Hermione would never have to know that Ron was still a virgin, and the most Harry and Ginny had done was under the shirt, over the bra stuff.

And so, within the hour, Hermione and Harry had flooed to Diagon Alley and waited a half an hour before the perpetually late Weasleys showed up. In greeting, Harry kissed his girl friend in a chaste, parents are watching kind of way, and Ron hugged Hermione tight. Harry had assured her that all anyone had been told was that she'd been injured in the final battle. No one but those in attendance knew the truth of her experience, and for this, Hermione was grateful. She really didn't think she could deal with another rousing chorus of "Why Snape?" from Ron.

The afternoon passed quickly as the foursome visited every store they had to for school supplies and then spent a great deal longer in all the stores they didn't need to be in. Close to the time they were supposed to meet Molly and Arthur for dinner, Hermione stopped suddenly, realization breaking all over her face.

"We never went to the apothecary! It closes in twenty minutes!" The others' eyes all grew wide in shock as well. How on earth could they have forgotten a year's worth of potions ingredients? So they all ran like children posessed to the store, reaching it only minutes before close and giggling like they'd never experienced anything funnier. Once inside they quickly made their way through the shelves, picking up everything they'd need and laughing when the constantly clueless Ron picked up a bottle of actual pickles instead of the pickled frog eyes they needed. After what seemed like an inordinate amount of throat-clearings by the shopkeep who obviously wanted to go home, the foursome paid for their purchases and made their way out of the store.

"Oh my God, that was so funny, Ron!" Hermione laughed, walking backward in front of the other three so as to face them. Throughout the trip she'd become more and more animated with each passing moment, and she was glad Harry'd convinced her to get up and come out. She'd missed her friends. Even before, when she'd spent every day with Severus, she'd barely seen them. It felt good to be with them- to just be Hermione for a while, to not have to think about pleasing them or what they thought of her. "And then when-"

Hermione was abruptly cut off as she collided with something solid.

And breathing.

And clad head to toe in black robes.

Turning to see what she'd stepped into, Hermione's apology died on her lips. Severus stood in front of her, gazing down on her, his expression unreadable. Instinctively Harry, Ron, and Ginny stepped back and watched the interaction between the two. Not that there was much. Hermione looked up at him, a smile dead on her lips and tears stinging the corner of her eyes. Severus glared down at her, his labored breathing the only sign of distress on his part. Neither spoke and neither moved for close to a full minute before Snape moved aside and strode past her, no words spoken. After his abrupt departure, Hermione stood motionless, barely breathing for minutes before falling to her knees on the hard cobblestones and beginning to sob silently but profusely.

From behind a tree, Severus watched her reaction, silent tears of his own falling down his face.