Title: Breaking Her Facade
Challenge: Never Before Seen Pairing Challenge by Wotcher-Tonks on HPFC Forum.
Pairing: Dean/Romilda (I've only seen one!); Mild Colin/Romilda
Length: Four-shot.
Rating: T, to be safe.
Word Count: 2,335
Summary: 2 years after the events of Chapter Twenty-Four – Sectumsempra. After getting their hearts, somewhat, broken by Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, 7th year Dean Thomas, back to Hogwarts from hiding, spots 6th year Romilda Vane, and wonders why he's never spoken to her before. They were, after all, in nearly the same boat. Once he elicits a small smile from her, he finds that the only thing he wants to do is break her nearly invincible facade, knowing there was a fun-loving woman somewhere in her tough exterior.
Author's Notes: This four-shot (character study, for me) is for the Never Before Seen Pairing Challenge by Wotcher-Tonks on the HPFC. I've only seen one fic of Dean/Romilda, and I wanted to try one myself. I hope the tense isn't oddly written. Present tense sometimes confuses me, but I wanted to try it – branch out. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR owns everything.
Harry looked over the top of Ginny's head to see Dean Thomas holding a shattered glass in his hand, and Romilda Vane looking as though she might throw something.
-- Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Page 534 (US version)
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Beginning
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7th year Dean Thomas, back from hiding to continue his education in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – he did need N.E.W.T.S to be in Advertising, or an Auror - places his hands in his pockets, a clip for his thick winter cloak clasped around his neck, and walks forward a few steps into the courtyard before he stops abruptly.
(Seamus hadn't stayed for Winter Holidays so he was free to do whatever he wanted.)
His mouth stays obediently shut at the sight before him. A girl with lovely, long dark hair, deep brown eyes, and a prominent chin sits with her back against the courtyard tree, looking as though hot tears were about to run down her face in a matter of moments. He knows she'll be stubborn, though, not letting anyone see her in a vulnerable state. Even though she still didn't know he was there.
He smirks, but his artist's eyes scan over every detail of the picture in front of him, his fingers itching to sketch her.
Apparently, even after 2 years of cooling down, she still wasn't over the Chosen One. But… wait. She's holding a picture frame in her hands, and her dark brown eyes are staring at the picture encased in the square with an unnatural fondness.
He only ever knew one person who liked taking pictures, and that was Colin Creevey. His dark eyes narrow in thought.
Colin Creevey was one of the many who had died in the Second War… but – with the way she was looking at the frame - had she loved him?
Bravely – Dean is a Gryffindor after all – he walks forward, his slightly heavy footfalls heard by the saddened girl, and her gaze flickers over to him. It's unnaturally bright.
"Er- hello," Dean greets her with a small smile, but her lips are still tightly pressed together.
He continues on, even though he knows she's not interested.
(Probably wants to be left alone.)
But, he'll do anything to get a small smile out of her. It was best if she not dwell, after all.
"My name's Dean Thomas. What's yours?" Finally, she speaks only two words, and, yet, Dean feels strangely proud of himself.
"Romilda Vane." Her tone is clipped, clearly telling him to back off. Still, he perseveres.
(He might not live.)
"Do you want company?" He doesn't wait for an answer, instead striding forward in a matter of moments to sit by her, a considerable distance away.
(She needs her personal space.)
She sighs, almost as though she was giving up, and Dean sits with his back straight, watching her intently with his dark eyes. He smiles hesitantly, but she doesn't even give him a glance.
It's his turn to sigh, almost irritated. Almost, being the key word. He doesn't even know why he does this – staying when she obviously wants him gone, but there's something… something about her that draws him to her.
He doesn't know what that "something" is, and that is what intrigues him the most.
--
6th year Romilda Vane nearly groans in frustration when she sees the tall, black boy – "even taller than Weasley!" her friends had said, and she had to admit that that was true once she saw him in the arch above the courtyard, a pause in his steps.
She does let out the suppressed groan, one he cannot hear, when he walks to her. After his polite greeting, his introduction, and the question she just so desperately wanted to say no to (she does not know why she did not), she asks him almost coldly:
"What are you doing here?"
He doesn't answer for a while, and she turns her head reluctantly to pin him with a look. Still, he doesn't notice, and she pokes him in the shoulder with one slender finger.
Finally, he jolts back to reality, saying, "Excuse me?"
She rolls her eyes, making sure he sees, and asks again, "What are you doing here?"
"Oh," he says, not at all surprised by the question, but forgetting why he was actually in the courtyard in the first place, "I usually draw here when I have time."
She nods in understanding, having seen the wonderful banners he had made for the Gryffindor Quidditch team's numerous victories.
"I see," she replies, a slightly uncomfortable silence following her words.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Dean take out his sketchbook and pencils, quietly sketching, only the scratch of the colored wood tips breaking the silence.
She leans back, her eyes already closed. Since it was winter holidays, and she had already finished her homework, she had left the common room to do what she wished. Her friends were still trying to finish Transfiguration, and she knows they would take a while.
She was free to sort out her jumbled-up thoughts about Colin's – her boyfriend of only 5th year - death.
That was what she had been doing until Dean had interrupted.
And, strangely enough, she didn't mind. Normally, she wouldn't have liked company, but he – he was a different matter, entirely.
He was quiet, almost as though he were only there for support – he didn't say much, but he had a calm aura exuding from him that had her almost willing to spill her thoughts out to him.
She, somehow, also knew he would listen, never interrupting.
A small sigh escapes her lips, and Dean looks at her curiously, saying nothing, his legs close to his chest, the soles of his feet resting on the stonewall, his back against the arch a few feet away from the tree Romilda rests on.
"Can I tell you something?" she asks, a tad reluctantly, because she wasn't sure he'd be the best person to seek relationship advice from.
(She did remember Ginny Weasley.)
"Of course," he replies, his eyes traveling from the paper of his sketchbook to look at her intently, a bit surprised.
"W-well," she begins, and his eyes are clearly showing confusion – she never stutters from what he'd seen around the corridors his 6th year – but he says nothing, "I don't know if you know but I was dating Colin Creevey in my 5th year, even though he was on the run because he's Muggle-born. But, somehow, we managed. Anyway, he snuck onto Hogwarts grounds the day of the Final Battle, and h-he d-died. I don't know how. And I've been trying to think everything out, but I can't just stop thinking about him, can I?"
When she takes a breath, he nods. "You can't stop if you've been dating for an entire year. That's just unheard of."
She gives him a small smile. "Exactly, but my friends keep on saying I need to find someone else. A-and… I don't know if I can do that."
He keeps his mouth shut, unsure of an answer to say that wouldn't blow her top off. "Well, you shouldn't if you're not ready to move on, you know."
She nods. "Thanks, Dean."
His eyes go back to the hardly-complete drawing of her. "No problem."
--
A few days later, in the Great Hall, Dean is scared senseless when Romilda storms out with a satisfyingly loud bang of the doors, her friends all sporting apologetic looks on their faces.
When he gains his senses back, he rolls his eyes, knowing exactly what had transpired between Romilda and her friends.
Without knowing what he was doing, except that he knows he has to, he stands up, shouldering his bag before he follows the girl, ignoring the whispers that break out once the heavy door swings shut.
He follows the sound of her sniffles as best as he can, finding her by the tree in the courtyard, just as he had a few days prior. He walks forward, sitting closer to her than he would have days before.
"Hey," he whispers, "you okay?"
She smiles at him, because she knows he came for her, only for her. He likes the close friendship they had established in a matter of hours after their first meeting.
"F-fine, but they," she shoots the word out like it is poison, "set me up with Andrew Flandry without telling me, and I do not want to go."
"You don't have to," he states simply.
She laughs softly at his obvious answer. "I know that, but my friends won't stop until I 'just meet the guy. We're sure you'll like him!'"
She sighs, irritated with her hopelessly romantic friends. She had been a hopeless romantic in 4th year – Chocolate Cauldrons spiked with Love Potion, as her weapon of choice, of course - but she had changed due to the death of Colin.
(She was getting over the shock, sadness, and grief that has overcome her with the news.)
Romilda Vane was almost as good as new.
Almost, runs through her mind, her eyes closing involuntarily from the pain that still overtakes her when she's not expecting it.
Dean notices. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks pointedly, knowing that she was going to lie –
"Yes, I'm fine."
He smiles inwardly. Even after a few days of friendship and he could anticipate her every move – probably attributed from his artist's senses (like seeing details in one single glance, he thinks, amused, Merlin, I sound like a magically artistic Superman!)
"No, you're not," he openly disagrees.
She sighs again, defeated. "Fine. I'm not."
"Knew it," he grins smugly.
"Prat," she says affectionately.
He chuckles before he stands up, bending down so he can offer her his hand. She takes it gratefully, pulling herself up. Her 5'8" frame reaches up to his shoulders… barely, she muses, slightly intimidated by the sheer height of her friend.
They walk in a companionable silence up to Gryffindor Tower. In a matter of moments they reach the Fat Lady, who immediately asks, "Password?"
"Mistletoe."
A crow of triumph comes from the portrait's mouth. "Nope, sorry dearie, wrong password!"
Dean blushes, but shakes his head. "I know that." And then he proceeds to point up. The Fat Lady giggles shrilly once she sees the holiday plant right above the two friends.
Romilda's eyes follows his finger, and a similar blush appears on her cheeks.
He bends down, his palms slightly sweaty. When his lips touch hers, she emits a small little gasp at the feeling it elicits in her. The bright emotion that rushes through her body reminds her of the sensation she always had had with Colin, and, with that thought of Colin, she pulls away abruptly.
"I-I'm sorry," she stutters before turning to the portrait with teary eyes, whispering, "Everlasting Icicles."
The portrait opens to let the confused girl through. The Fat Lady waits patiently for Dean to enter, but he turns around, his moist hands stuck in his pockets, not even knowing where he was going to go. He just had an insane urge to walk to clear his muddled thoughts.
--
Her friends immediately see her once she tries to walk up to her dormitory. They walk forward, their eyes sympathizing with the girl even though they didn't know what had transpired outside of the portrait. They could read her emotions clear as day.
(Almost as clear as Dean could when he felt up to it.)
"Ro?" Greta Holloway asks hesitantly, "Are you okay?"
Romilda sits down right where she's standing, and she looks up at her friends with bright eyes, saying, "I just kissed Dean Thomas before I walked in."
Greta immediately sits down at the news, wrapping one arm around Romilda's shoulder – a source of comfort, and Romilda appreciates it.
(She's already forgiven her friends.)
Bridgette follows suit, sitting in front of her friend with crossed legs. "Would you like to tell us, Ro?"
She smiles slightly at each of her friends, already down on the ground, for once not caring if their clothes were rumpled. "When I ran out of the Great Hall, he followed. He comforted me, and we walked back up to the Tower. The Fat Lady asked him for the password, and he said 'mistletoe,' instead of 'Everlasting Icicles.' At first I thought he was being stupid, but he pointed up, and I saw the mistletoe. W-when he kissed me, I felt the same way as I did when I was with C-Colin, and I pulled away at the thought of him. I-I think I really hurt Dean back there."
Anna looks at her with her piercing robin's-egg-blue gaze. "You should go after him, Ro." Her friends nod their agreement.
Greta nods, solemn. "Yes, you should, Ro. If you really felt the way you did when you were with Colin… you must, deep down, fancy him."
Romilda sighs, her decision already made far before they had given her advice, but she appreciates it nonetheless.
--
Dean groans in frustration, kicking the tree she always sat by with more force than necessary. The pain in his toes curbs the pain from his heart, and he sits down, his head already in his hands.
"Why'd I do that?" he mumbles to himself, his eyes closed.
"Maybe because there was mistletoe above the two of us," a new voice cuts in, and Dean's eyes shoot open. He makes no move.
He feels her presence beside him, and she's close – closer than ever – but all he wants to do now, with his newfound feelings, is to hold her.
"Yeah, maybe," he whispers.
He feels her light touch on his arm, and he slowly, painstakingly slowly, brings his head up to look at her.
"What?" he asks.
"It's probably my fault you're feeling this way," she begins hesitantly, "but I was glad you did that. It helped me see something."
"And what did you see?"
"I-I saw someone who's been there for me all this time." She knows she wasn't the best at expressing her feelings, but she was going to try… just like he'd tried – still trying, really – to be there for her.
With slightly shaking hands, she brushes his longer-than-normal hair out of his eyes. His eyes halfway close once again at the touch, but he lifts one, large hand to cup her cheek.
"You should have seen it long ago," he whispers softly.
"Dean," she breathes before his lips meet hers once again.
-
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To Be Continued…
A/N: Hope you enjoyed the first part! I really enjoyed writing this. Hope I can, somehow, convert you to Dean/Romilda… as unlikely as it may be. But, that's what challenges and fanfiction does, right?
Tell me if you see any present-tense mistakes. Anything, actually.
Review if you can, please. I'd love the feedback.
Love,
Strawberry xx