Soulsavers

Hermione

There was some poetry to the predicament Hermione found herself in, or rather, had got herself into: She watched die the man who marked the love of his life for death, and her punishment? That she should fall in love with him, so that she would be heartbroken twice over, because she knew he would eventually die over his love for someone else, and that she would not save him She had come here to try to do just that, after all, and had made no headway. At this point in time, he seemed uninterested even in her friendship. 

This was even worse than the Valentine's Day Ron spent down Lavender's throat.

Hermione knew jealousy and she knew guilt, but she never realised she could feel such intense regret, envy a version of herself that did not exist. Is this how Severus had felt, would feel, his whole life? The realisation only made her love him more, and feel even worse. The real Severus, of 1978, meanwhile, wandered about the grounds oblivious to things to come and what they meant. Irony is when the reader knows something but the character does not,as Hermione had learned in Muggle School.

She came here to prevent the Severus she had known - heartbroken and guilty and alone - from existing, and she was now heartbroken and guilty and alone, while he had no idea.

She had known teenage Severus only since September, not half a year in all, but in that time she had become struck with how much the teenager lived in the future - as perhaps all teenagers do. Hermione did not know; since she first befriended Harry, her teenage experience has been anything but typical. While she lived in the past, her past and his future, he lived in the future. His eyes lit up when he talked about leaving Hogwarts and making his own way in the world. His optimism was misguided, she knew, and yet she admired it. Already she had learned that his life wasn’t easy, and his hope and faith kept him going, giving him the strength to face another day of ridicule. She wondered if he knew what people were saying about him behind his back. It never ceased to amaze her that Astrid and Matilda, whose pictures appeared in the dictionary beside "irrelevant" and "conceited", thought themselves better than him. She had also learned in Muggle School - well, in the Muggle School library, to be exact - that there were those philosophers who thought one's life could only be weighed after one had died.

It gave her comfort back in the day. As a child, she remembered getting very upset learning about Vincent van Gogh, and how he died before his time, and never knew his own greatness. The thought that life doesn't end in death, and that van Gogh was better off for having become a celebrated artist even if he never knew it, made the injustice of it easier to endure.

You have been a silly child, Hermione. Van Gogh died alone, insane and alone; the idea that one's life still had meaning after death might have comforted her, but not van Gogh himself, who was, after all, the victim there. She doubted very much that Severus - the 18 year old who enthusiastically talked about the future and walking out of Hogwarts, never to look back - would feel particularly comforted by the knowledge that he would return at the ripe old age of 21 and die here, no matter how fondly he would be remembered for his sacrifices.

Her parents did not know what to do with her, the sort of child who cried about the abstract notion that some people are born before their time, are too good for this world, are only a gift that mankind enjoys, whose lives are lived only for the sake of others. She doubted very much that they would know what to do with her now. Hermione tried to get lost in thought about her parents and Van Gogh, which would normally have been depressing, only because at this particular moment they were positively cheerful compared with the alternative.

Astrid barged into the room and interrupted Hermione's Valentine's Day. She had planned to spend it sobbing, alone, and contemplating the unfairness of life, and she found it very rude of Astrid to show up when she was just getting started.

"Someone gave me these to give you," Astrid said, throwing a box of chocolates - no card - in Hermione's general direction. Good, chocolate's better for crying than flowers, and since it's anonymous I don't have to deal with it.

"Blimey, Hermione, I know you're not going out with anyone today but you really need to grow up! There are more important things in life than boys!"

To be told that by Astrid - Hermione had to laugh. "Why am I even trying, you're just not right in the head. Someone's sending you chocolates and you don't even care who it is."

It couldn't be Severus, and so Hermione couldn't care less who it was, though she planned to eat until she ran out or passed out. I assume Pomfrey restocked the stores of potion for excess blood sugar.

She opened the box and rummaged in it for a while, trying to guess which truffle looked the least like it had orange-cream filling. The chocolates smelled divine, and obviously made of high-quality ingredients. Whoever her admirer was, he was due for a disappointment: Hermione would have been happier with chalky, stale chocolate from Severus than with this lot.

She chewed into one - hazelnut cream-filled, thank god - and it hit her brain just as fast as it hit her tongue. She felt awake, infused with a sense of mission. Astrid is right, what am I doing here, crying alone in my room. I must find Barty!

Alas, she could not go find Barty like this, her eyes red and puffy, in her trainers, looking like she'd never seen a hairbrush in her life.

She rummaged through her dorm-mates' make-up kits, much more purposeful than when she’d rummaged through the chocolates. Magical cosmetics were one field she knew next to nothing about, but to her delight, the box said the eye-shadow was self-applying and the colour would magically flatter her own. "Simply wave your wand and incantate: Beautify!"

Without a morsel of hesitation, she tried, and looked in the mirror. Her brown eyes shone bright and fresh. It was a shame no such magic could choose her outfit. Never mind, just go to him before someone else does!

To her delight, Barty was not far. In fact, he was right at the entrance to the Slytherin Dungeons.

She ran to Barty and pulled him into a rib-cracking hug, inhaling his sandy hair. “Oh Barty, you even smell like chocolate! I can’t believe I didn’t realize this sooner!”

Barty flashed a perfect little smile at her. “It’s alright, Hermione,” he said, and stroked her hair himself. One of the Slytherin girls walked past, and commented on the upgrade in Hermione’s tastes. “Finally, someone screwed your head on straight, huh?”

Barty panicked and said, “Let’s get out of here, I have many things planned for us today!”

Hermione happily obliged. Wherever they went and from every angle, Barty looked like the sun was setting right behind him. The man was so perfect he knew exactly what Hermione wanted to do even before she knew it. First, they went to Puddifoot’s. The shop was crowded, but Barty Crouch Jr. and his date didn’t have to wait.

Hermione had no eyes for James and Lily, a few tables over, feeding one another chocolate cake.

“I really want to get to know you better, Hermione. I feel like you know me so well, and understand me like no one ever has, and I want to make you happy. I want you to really love me.”

Hermione was confused. “But I do really love you, silly!”

His smile did not change, but suddenly felt less sincere. “Of course you do. I know you do. I mean… forever. I want you to love me forever.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will. I never felt like this, Barty. Well - I really only ever had one boyfriend before, but - oh, it never felt this right with Ron!”

“Ron?” Barty asked. “Is he from Australia? Did you break up because you wanted to come back here?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, I’ve never been to Australia, and, well, he’s not like you, so thoughtful, so clever… Barty,” his name rolled off her tongue and he adored the way she said it, “I’m so glad I came back. I thought it’s Snape I needed to find, but I was wrong! It's you, it’s always been you!”

Barty seemed scared and bewildered. He touched her forehead, “You don’t feel hot,” he mumbled. “I’m sure I didn’t get anything wrong...”

Hermione grabbed his hand and kissed every finger, and Barty sat frozen, fully aware that everyone at the small cafe were looking at them.

“You didn't, I promise you. A wizard like you? Do you know that you managed to escape Azkaban and even tricked Dumbledore?” She whispered. “I don’t know what you did, but you got it right.”

“What’s your girlfriend talking about, Crouch?” James Potter cried out.

“Mind your own business, Potter,” Barty yelled, and returned to Hermione with his head in his hands, stretching his eyes.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Hermione said, thinking there are better ways to spend her Valentine’s than with James Potter bothering them. Her plea was not audible over James’s “Or what, daddy’s boy?”

Lily seemed unable to decide if she was mortified or amused.

“You think you’re so clever, Potter?” Hermione yelled. He had insulted the love of her life, and she could not contain her anger.

“You’re going to die Potter! That’s right, die, because you’re so stupid you trusted Peter, Peter the rat! How obvious does it need to be, James, huh?”

James reached for his wand, and before Hermione knew it, she was on her back on the floor, slammed against the table that had flipped over. She saw stars, she felt ill - for an instant she felt she must have made a terrible mistake.

Barty walked in circles, place and incoherent. “My father is right, I can’t get anything right, oh, by Merlin, he’ll have me punished for this, Hermione - oh what am I on - let’s get out of here, please!”

Her horrible feeling disappeared as quickly as it came, and she got up and followed Barty outside, indifferent to the cold.

“Don’t worry, Barty, we’ll get every one who hurt you. You’re gonna be great, with me, my help, I know it. All the bad things, they don’t have to happen. You just need love!”

She jumped on him and kissed him, and he stopped her, grabbed her and pushed her away. “It all sounds great, Hermione, but you’re… you’re sick, and you need help. But not Pomfrey! Oh, blimey, where am I supposed to find someone who is good at healing and can keep a secret? My fucking dad will know immediately if we go to Mungo’s! Fuck!”

Hermione giggled. "Why, Severus, of course! No one can keep a secret like him! But I’m not sick, Barty, I promise you, I’m fine!”

He looked at her desperately. “But then you’ll know and he’ll know and you’ll never even think of giving me a chance. You won’t even let me get anywhere near you. I’m sure he wants you, I just know it. Do you promise me you’ll let me take you out again, Hermione? Promise me and we’ll go to him.”

“I promise. But I’m not sick. Oh, Barty, you’re so thoughtful. I thought I was in love with him but… that’s just stupid. Isn’t love supposed to make you happy?”

He stopped and looked at her beaming face, as if for the last time, and his face turned ashen and crestfallen.

“Yes, it’s supposed to. I really hope you’ll forgive me, Hermione. Let’s go find Snape.”

Hermione made him promise that after they talk to Severus they would spend some time alone, and he promised with a heavy sigh. “So, so romantic. Oh, how could someone like you ever follow Voldemort?”

“Don’t call the Dark Lord that, Hermione - you don’t know what he does - but he’ll understand - you’re so sick!”

“Never mind that, we’ll fix it, we’ll fix everything!” Hermione reassured him, and followed him merrily along.

Severus

A very serious-looking owl dropped a letter into Severus’s outstretched hands, and gave him a stern, boring look. “There, I’m opening it, see?” He told it, feeling ridiculous.

Snape, it’s Crouch. I need your help, Hermione’s sick and I can’t take her to the Hospital Wing. Please meet me at the old Potions Club room before dinner. It’s at -

Severus frowned. He knew where it was, even though the club has been defunct for most of Severus’s career: he liked studying the subject there, and had even formed something of a rapport with the portraits of historical potioneers and enjoyed watching them argue. The portraits recognized him and offered more by way of mentoring than his living potions master and head of house.

Crouch needs me? My help? Severus had no intention of sitting it out, and concern for Hermione only accounted for some of it. He wondered if he ought to try his hand at blackmail. Crouch had definitely gotten up to something unsavoury and Severus could definitely use the money, but he supposed he had to see for himself before he could decide.

He entered the Potions Club five minutes ahead of time and hurried to act like he had better places to be when he realised Crouch was already there.

“Severus! Alone on Valentine’s Day? What a shame, I’m so lucky, me, I thought for sure I would be spending my day crying in bed, but -”

Hermione’s words stung in their earnestness. “You dragged me here for this? She’s obviously quite cheerful, so what are you playing at?”

“I’m better than fine, and don’t worry, Severus, you’ll find someone. I… sort of wondered if maybe you would ask me out, but I understand why you didn’t.”

What fresh hell is this? Severus had heard enough and he turned on his heel. No need to give these two the impression that he had nothing better to do. “Hermione, stay here!” Crouch commanded her like one might have a newly trained dog, and ran after Severus.

“You have to help me, Snape,” he cried.

“Is this your idea of foreplay? Can’t get it up without someone there to envy you, or something? No thanks, and you can tell her I’ll sooner go out with Moaning Myrtle.”

“I gave her Amortentia!” Crouch finally confessed, and Severus turned on the spot again and looked down at him with utter contempt.

“You’re a sixth year and that potion is above NEWT level. I don’t know what you’re playing at but there’s no way you -”

“For Merlin’s sake, I took the NEWT last year, been tutored since I was eight. But I misbrewed badly, Snape, she’s acting… she’s not right in the head!”

Severus narrowed his eyes. If Crouch was so good at Potions, why did he send for him? Looking to make him feel like a fool on top of feeling like a loser?

“I don’t know what to tell you, Crouch. Your Amortentia’s doing what it should, Granger’s just annoying. You made your bed, you can lie in it.”

“Please, Snape,” Crouch implored. “She specifically said you can keep a secret.”

Weird thing to insist on considering she never told me anything personal, Severus told himself. “Pomfrey doesn’t ask questions and you’re not the first slimeball to use a love potion on Valentine’s Day.”

“Pomfrey doesn’t, but my father does, and he’ll have me hanged.”

“What’s the downside?” Severus sniped.

Crouch opened his mouth and closed it. Must have realised he confessed his crime to someone who won’t help and doesn’t care.

“Barty, come back here!” Hermione sang to them from the room where they left her. “I need to tell you about the time you turned Lucius Malfoy’s son into a ferret! My god, I can’t believe it took me this long to see how funny you are!”

Severus turned his head slowly. “Lucius’s what into a what?” He asked.

“She’s been like this since she ate the chocolates,” Crouch said miserably, and Severus murmured, “twenty galleons.”

Barty gave him five and promised he would have the rest soon enough. I would have done it for five. I would have done it for nothing, and kept quiet for five. How do people get rich with those negotiation skills?