C O W A R D
by Gueneviere
X
RUNNING AWAY
"It's not hard to find the truth. What is hard is not to run away from it once you have found it."
—Anonymous.
- - - -
It was well-known that patience was not among Molly Weasley's many good qualities.
It was because of this that the woman jumped straight into questioning mode as soon as a tear-stained Hermione took her seat in front of the coffee table.
"Hermione, dear, what's wrong?" The Weasley matriarch asked immediately.
"Nothing, Mrs. Weasley. I'm fine." Hermione answered emotionlessly as she stirred the tea Remus had placed in front of her. She wished she had thought of casting a glamour charm on herself before she came down for breakfast.
"Don't tell me you're fine when you evidently are nothing but!" Mrs. Weasley cried. Her husband placed a placating hand on top hers so she continued in a slightly more subdued voice. "Tell us what's bothering you, sweetheart, or else we won't be able to help."
It was her own fault, really. A swish, a flick and a murmured incantation and she would have avoided this altogether…
Hermione sighed, "I severely doubt you would be able to help me anyway, but I appreciate the concern." She said quietly, a wry smile tugging on her lips.
Mrs. Weasley looked like she wanted to say something else and glanced at the rest of the awakened Order members for support. Getting none, she scowled and rose from her seat, muttering something about cleaning the lower floor's bedrooms.
Remus frowned and raised a concerned eyebrow at Harry, who just shrugged and fixed his anxious green eyes on the young witch.
Hermione finished her tea slowly and then excused herself, claiming the need to catch some sleep. She shook her head when her best friend tried to follow her.
"I'll talk to you later, Harry," she muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.
I need to be alone, was the unspoken statement. I don't want you to see me cry.
She left then, and Harry returned to his seat, his expression lost and forlorn.
Tonks stood up gracelessly and ran after the girl, knocking down a chair as she did.
Harry rose again as if to stop her but turned to Remus when the older man rested a hand on his shoulder. "It might be a female-thing, Harry. Why don't you let Dora try?" he said.
Harry severely doubted this was a female-thing as the werewolf put it, but he sat down again and took up glaring at the soggy cereal floating around in his bowl.
Mr. Weasley put down the Daily Prophet and sighed.
Tonks hadn't run after Hermione, though, knowing perfectly well her troubles were most definitely not a female-thing. It was much more probable that Magical Britain's brilliant Head Auror had done something stupid and mucked up things royally.
And so, Tonks was now climbing the second sets of stairs to reach Kingsley Shacklebolt's room and give the man a good kick in the arse.
She had no idea what the git had done, but personal experience told her it must've been something among the lines of telling the girl he had just snogged senseless he was really too old for her and too much of a bloody Gryffindor to, for once, take what he wanted.
Men.
Bloody tossers, the lot of them!
Reaching the end of the stairs, Tonks turned to her right, thanking Merlin she was an Auror and thus relatively in form to—
PAFF!
Tonks was thrown back on the impact and winced as she landed on her arse clumsily. Opening her blue eyes she saw Kingsley laid on the floor before her, rubbing his right arm and somehow managing to look cool and collected despite everything.
Git.
"Were you running like a crazed maniac for some reason in particular, or did you just felt the need to head butt me, Nymphadora?" he asked brusquely.
"Yes, there is a reason in particular, as a matter of fact," Tonks snapped back, rising to her feet and dusting herself off before standing and glaring at Kingsley. "What on earth did you do that poor girl!?"
"Don't talk about what you don't understand, Tonks," the man replied in a quiet tone, standing up too.
"What I don't understand? What I don't understand, you say!?" the Auror cried in desperation, her wide, angry eyes glaring at her boss and best friend. "You'll find that I understand the situation perfectly, seeing as I lived it just a few months ago!"
"It's not the same." He replied, closing his eyes as though he was trying to convince a part of himself as well. "It's just not the same."
"Why? Because Hermione is a couple of years younger; is that it? Well, let me tell you—"
Only then did Tonks acknowledge what Kingsley was carrying in his left hand.
A suitcase.
An awkward silence fell upon the pair before it was interrupted by the choked laughter that left the young woman's lips as she shook her head in disbelief.
"And now you're fleeing, Kingsley—leaving others to clean up the mess you made?"
"Tonks, I hardly—"
"No," the witch interrupted him. Having been in Hermione's shoes—having been, indeed, comforted by Kingsley himself back then—Tonks found she could summon no mercy for the man's predicament.
"What would wizards across the country think if they knew the man they chose to protect them is nothing but a sniveling coward?" She hissed with cruelty.
That was a low blow for an Auror as well as for a Gryffindor; Kingsley was both and he was really getting it too much lately.
Kingsley glared at the woman, his dark eyes flashing in barely suppressed rage. "A coward now, am I? A coward for doing what's right?" He advanced on her and Tonks was suddenly reminded of how intimidating Head Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt could be.
"Because I assure you, Nymphadora, it would be much easier for me to surrender to my desires and just fuck the damn girl against the damn wall!"
Tonks cringed at his crude words but didn't capitulate. She had seen the man smile whenever Hermione laughed, she had seen him wince every time she was hurt by a hex, and she had seen him staring at the young witch as though she were a goddess to be revered.
Tonks knew better than believe the lies Kingsley told himself.
She took a deep breath before attempting to persuade the man of his foolishness once more.
"Don't try to convince me you don't care, Kings, 'cause—"
"I'm not trying to convince you I don't care, Tonks!" Kingsley interrupted, waving around an exasperated hand before looking at her intensely. "It's because I care that I have to go; don't you see? I can't restrain myself around her! I'm dangerous!"
Tonks lost her fragile hold on her serenity then.
"For Merlin's sake, Kingsley you sound just like Remus! She doesn't want you to restrain yourself, you stupid git! It seems to me that she might very well want you to fuck her against the wall, dammit!"
"Shut up!!!"
Kingsley's booming voice echoed down the hall, and the magical lighting of the corridor flickered as the air buzzed with energy. The man seethed in anger but shut his eyes forcefully, trying to calm himself before he blew something up.
Tonks was more than a little frightened, but she was also more than a little stubborn and refused to back out.
"Listen, Kingsley," she started cautiously. "No matter what you're feeling right now, McGonagall wants you here. The Order gave you a job, and it was to stay in Grimmauld place to protect Harry and his friends."
She tried to meet his eye, but he was just glaring at the floor; the hand that held his suitcase balled into a white-knuckled fist.
"I don't care, Tonks. I'm leaving. Tell McGonagall that being Head Auror turned out too demanding and that I can't waste time babysitting teenagers." He replied, his voice angry but controlled.
He smirked then; a sad, weak, humorless smirk. "Plus, I might not be the best person to protect Harry sodding Potter right now. I am more liable to beat him into a bloody pulp next time I see him, and we can't have that, now can we?"
He had said that last bit lightly, but Tonks could distinguish the bitterness laced to his tone. She frowned and crossed her arms in disapproval, not understanding what Harry had to do with the whole mess. She opened her mouth to argue, but Kingsley raised a hand and cut her short.
"No, Tonks, you can't change my mind. Just leave me be." He walked past her, flinching a little when the woman grabbed his upper arm to stop him.
He lowered his gaze to meet Tonks'. Dissapointed blue eyes bore into his soul.
"You can't run away from love, Kingsley," she whispered tiredly. "There is no place that far."
His eyes flashed angrily as he tore his arm away from her hold.
He walked past her without a word, stopping just before the staircase. "I'll be in my apartment. Both you and Moody know the password," he said emotionlessly.
The woman nodded although she was pretty sure he wouldn't turn around to watch her do so.
A minute or so later, Nymphadora Tonks heard the living room's floo system go on and sighed.
Harry Potter might not have been the most perceptive guy in the world, but when it came to Hermione Granger, he prided himself on being able to read her like a book.
And so it worried him greatly not knowing what was wrong with the girl just now.
"… and then James thought it would be a funny Valentine's prank to turn Snape's hair pink and have him sing Binns a love ballad in the middle of History of Magic…"
Remus's voice reverberated in the background, but Harry was too deep in thought to care about the Marauder stories he generally devoted his whole attention to.
Whatever it was that had bothered his best friend, it must have been something big for Hermione Granger seldom cried.
And this fact made him even more anxious.
"… Binns had just started talking about Riddick the Rebel again when Sirius cast the charm…"
He would have easily laid the blame of Malfoy, but the bloody ferret was being uncommonly nice to Hermione lately—most probably because he knew it incensed him.
And anyway, if he was absolutely true to himself, he had to admit Hermione had been acting strangely for a few weeks now—months even.
"… But he mixed up the spell and Snape ended up singing the ballad to him!"
Not being able to take it any longer, Harry dropped his spoon into his almost dissolved cereal and left the kitchen.
"He couldn't get a date in ages after that!" Remus chuckled and opened his eyes to find himself laughing alone.
Shouting voices could be heard from the second floor where Harry stood, his right hand resting on Hermione's door handle.
The boy's brow furrowed as he tried to discern what the yelling was about, but he couldn't distinguish words at all; only that one of the voices was Tonks' and the other Kingsley's.
Well, that was certainly strange. Harry had always thought they were close friends.
Dismissing thoughts about the Aurors' fight, the boy sighed and gathered up courage to turn the handle and open the door before him.
Hermione lay sleeping in her bed, her back turned to the door. Her curly dark brown hair was sprawled all over her shoulders, and the little light that managed to seep into the room through the closed curtains kissed the girl's skin like a lover, bestowing upon her an almost mystical glow.
Harry smiled and bit on his lower lip before he made up his mind and quietly took of his shoes.
Wishing Hermione found herself pleasantly surprised when she woke up—rather than murderous and out for his blood, of course— Harry slipped into bed next to her. He snaked a hand around her waist and realized she was wearing a small, tight, little shorts under Ron's Chudley Cannon's shirt.
Harry could feel himself growing hard against her arse, and yet he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that she wasn't wearing his boxers.
Once more, Harry Potter found himself fighting to ignore the tightness in his chest that erupted constantly ever since Hermione had started drifting away from him.
Every time he tried to kiss her she would either find a way to politely decline his advances or else get this strange look in her eyes.
A bright little gleam that looked much like guilt.
Not wanting to think about it anymore, Harry buried his nose in her hair instead, shutting his eyes as he took in its smell: jasmines, vanilla, old parchment, dusty books, and—
—male cologne.
Expensive male cologne that was most certainly not his.
Harry Potter froze, his arm tightening its hold on Hermione's petite form, his green eyes flashing in mad jealousy.
A wide-eyed Nymphadora Tonks closed Hermione's bedroom door, thanking Merlin she had been able to be uncharacteristically quiet.
She bit her lip and sat on the staircase.
So that was what Harry had to do with the whole mess.
Damn.
- - - -
TBC
A/N: So, is it too soap opera-esque for your taste? (winks at EuphoniumGurl0)
Anyways, thank you to: kaimaru, I Heart Ginny, mariaboombaby, AsylleClaire (I will make him pay, don't worry!), Shantelle, Fro (I wish you luck, fellow IB-er!), Fire Daughter, Menolly Mark (Gods, I wish you weren't so right about the math part…), tequieropapi522, Mari, Miss Artemis, Sampdoria, Monnbeam, Jevanminx, wasu, Hotkat144, Right or Ryn (Yeah, Kingsley is one adorable idiot), Kingsley Ruulz, tallypants, FreeSpritSprite, ginsensu (Well, my patience wearing thin with Kingsley too, but I can't control him, the git does as he wishes…), Nynaeve80, native-kitten, disdainx3 (Kings still being a douche, sorry!), tutucute4u (I'm sorry for the whole metaphorical 'dropping you off a cliff' thing. Forgive me?), Z. Ahmad and Hopelessly Pessimistic.
Also, thank you to my beta EuphoniumGurl0!
And today on 'Alex rants about real life':
DIE, ROUSSEAU, DIE!
Okay. Gotta go back to my philosophy essay now. Hmm… I might go watch Grey's Anatomy first, though.
Please review!
Cheers,
Alex.