A/N: All my love to my wonderful beta, TheUnrealInsomniac. Thanks babe.
Pick
Sonorous
The Doobie Brothers - Give Me The Beat Boys
Almost a year later...
Days turned to nights, seasons changed and Sirius hadn't come looking for her.
It had hurt and she'd bawled her eyes out but eventually, she'd accepted the fact that she would never see him again.
After having fled, she couldn't place blame but she had anyway. Pride had always been a failing of hers and she had reluctantly accepted that while she could have called or text first- he could have too. It was a two way street after all. If Sirius had really wanted to speak to her, he would have. And so, in her self-induced impasse of a dilemma, Hermione had stubbornly not called him. It'd hurt and eventually that pain turned into anger which morphed into embarrassment and shame, settling finally on regret.
All of which were compounded by her now strained relationship with her parents.
Sirius, much to her surprise, had stuck to his promise. Though she'd signed no papers or contract, he had credited her for her lyrical contributions like he'd said he would and paid her accordingly. How he'd learnt her bank account number, she'd yet to find out. She'd simply woken up one day to a bank statement that held much bigger numbers than she was used to.
Grateful she may have been, but it'd also pissed off her parents something awful.
As soon as she'd left him on that shitty night, she'd gone straight to Godric's Hollow amidst the cameras, shouting paps and crazed fans. While they'd shouted and made their presence hard to ignore, inside her home had been far more chaotic.
There had been a screaming match, lots of crying and a couple of ultimatums.
Angry and hurting as she was, the pain rolled over and for the first time in her complacent life, Hermione stood her ground. Her mum cried. Her dad frowned. She shook where she stood, heart hammering away as she told them that, no she was not going to be a dentist.
'We'll cut you off,' her dad had "warned". 'We will not reward this behaviour Hermione Jean. We will not!'
Safe to say that it'd been a shit night. Eventually, when the crowd disappeared and before her parents had woken up, she'd fled back to London. Lav had been lovely as always. Wine had helped and once again, she'd found herself in a drunken stupor, except this time it didn't last. Not for lack of trying though- she just couldn't afford it.
Two weeks of failed job hunting later, when she was trying to budget her last few pounds, she saw the bank statement with all those numbers. When she called her bank to correct their mistake, she'd been informed that the deposit had been made by one Harry Potter for services rendered.
It'd made her feel dirty but after lots and lots of debating, and a smack on the head by Lav, she'd realised that she had no room to object.
When rent came around her mum called and when Hermione told her about the money, it'd drawn a further divide between them but by that point she'd sort of stopped caring. Which somehow pissed her mum off even more.
Eventually, she dropped out of uni and found herself a job. Travelled with the twins and Lav to the Bahamas when summer came round and signed up for a new degree in time for when uni started up again.
Somewhere along the way, she'd shagged a fair few boys and tried to forget the Marauder who's new album and songs had topped the charts.
They had literally named it The Album and all the songs had been about her.
Snippets of their conversations, private moments and their secret smiles- all of them, they'd been made into lyrics and sung out to the world for them to hear. There'd been lust, longing, hurt, anger and pain in each song and though he'd never publicly confirmed it, the album had obviously been about her.
He'd written a ballad and... she'd still not heard the song in it's entirety. Toujours Pur.
The words were there, burning my tongue
unsaid and scared, innocent, new
because of you
She always cried halfway through and no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get through it. Worse yet, the song had been universally loved and was played everywhere which had reduced her to a blubbery little shit for a while. The crying stopped eventually but the pain hadn't. It was a bitch of a situation.
Whatever. Hermione had gotten over it. She'd accepted the fact that she had fucked up and that she'd lost her chance. It was fact and there was nothing that could be done about it so it didn't matter. Plus, she had moved on.
She'd met a fellow student and had hit it off. His name was Dean. He was tall, sweet, a gentleman and he gave great, great head. Really, everything was good.
She was over the thing with Sirius. She was.
Honest. Dean was great.
Great.
So the fact that The Marauders were returning to London to close up their tour didn't matter. Nope. It especially didn't matter that a VIP ticket and backstage pass had magically appeared on her bed. Nope.
At. All.
Dropping said ticket/pass, she turned about and made her way down the hall, knocking on Nev's bedroom door. Sure there was moaning and giggling coming from the room but she didn't care, she needed answers.
She didn't even blink when Neville appeared with just a towel wrapped around his waist. She pushed her friend aside, entering his room as she stared him down, completely ignoring the bloke beneath the sheets. She pointed accusatory fingers at them both equally, because she did not discriminate.
'Who?' she screeched. 'How? Why?'
The pitying look on his face didn't help. If anything, it pissed her off more. Something must have shown because Nev raised placating hands and guided her towards the bed, setting her down as he used his soothing voice.
'It wasn't us,' he said and that just added on to her complete and utter frustration. 'When we got here, the ticket was on the table with a sticky note that had your name on it. That's all we know. We asked the twins and they said that Tonks had dropped it off.'
She made to stand but he stopped her.
'Tonks isn't answering her door.'
Behind her, Zacharias spoke up. 'I think she's been gone all day babe and she's not returned any of our texts... and we've sent a fair few.'
He glanced at his lover before moving back towards her. 'It's fairly obvious that she's doing it on purpose.'
'How?,' she snapped.
The guys grimaced, simultaneously before looking away from her which was not at all suspicious. Hermione clenched her fists, her blood rushing in her ears. 'Well?!'
In front of her, Nev shifted on his feet. Zach pulled the sheet tighter around his waist, looking down and away as if trying to preserve his modesty. She loved them. They were sweet and honest, both together and as individuals. They were also shit at lying. So she stayed quiet, letting the awkwardness linger and fester as she glared them down. Waiting for one of them to crack, which eventually one did.
'Tonks has been seeing Remus Lupin on and off for the past year!'
She honest to fuck jolted in her seat. Back straight, heart hammering away, she turned back to Zach. 'No she hasn't.'
The brunette had been so sure, positive in her statement because obviously she would've known that but the look on their faces as soon as she'd said it... betrayal. Hot. Bitter and foul, it washed over and through her in a violent wave. Her voice lost its bravado- it's surety and she heard it, the doubt and insecurity in her every word.
'She would've told me,' Hermione said, completely uncertain as her eyes moved from one friend to the other. 'She would have.'
They'd always been good mates and they'd only grown closer these past few months. As much free time as she'd had this Spring, she'd helped the pink haired woman travel the country to display her artwork in various art galleries. Tonks would have told her. She would've. Unless...
'You were heartbroken over another Marauder love,' Nev said, casually breaking his promise to never mention and/or speak of He Who Must Not Be Named. 'Why would she?'
Because they were friends.
Because she had told her everything.
Because she had bared her soul to the damn witch and ... and because Tonks had seen how sad she'd been.
Hermione blinked away her rapidly forming tears. Remembering and recalling various conversations as they'd travelled the country.
She'd asked Tonks about her love life and the willowy woman always responded with a soft, smile. Tonks did the whole polyamorous thing so she'd assumed that that smile was aimed at a collective group of people, not for a single bloke. Much less a Marauder. And Remus Lupin at that.
It didn't make any sense.
The Wiccan had once stated that celebrities were a perfect example of what was wrong with the establishment. They represented the societal plague which emphasised money as opposed to something or other and they were at the forefront of the decay of modern civilisation because whatever.
And Remus "Moony" Lupin was all of that and more. Bloke was a poster boy for all that was wrong in the Rock 'N Roll world and Nymphadora Tonks was a free spirit who saw beauty where there was none.
Hermione blinked, frowning. Maybe... it made some sense after all.
'Are they good together?' she asked, eyes trained on the floor. Her question directed at both and neither as her mind reeled.
She licked her lips, looking up when she realised there was a lingering silence in the room. One she did not like. Neville did a weird half-shrug, half-nod thing. Zach moved behind her, bed creaking.
'It's complicated.'
Hermione nodded, determined to get to the bottom of that later. She got up, making her way past her friend when Zach's question stopped her.
'So are you going?'
'No,' she exclaimed, whipping back to look at him. 'Of course not! Why would I?'
'Because you love him.'
'What?' she laughed, damn near cried when pain slammed into her chest. 'No I don't!'
Dark brown eyes moved from one bloke to the other. Sympathy in both of their faces.
Hermione slammed her eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge their expressions.
They were wrong and as much as they wanted to believe otherwise, she'd dissected this thing over and over and knew it to be true. Sirius and her... they'd gone too fast and hard. Burned too brightly and all those cheesy quotes that spoke of philosophical truths. If they'd had more time then perhaps, one day, she would have said the words and meant them. But now, at this moment in time, she knew that there had been no love there.
Passion, absolutely. Intensity, in spades. Lust, overwhelmingly so but love? No. There hadn't been enough time for that.
'Besides,' she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. 'He wouldn't want to see me there. Not after I ran out on him like that.'
'You don't know that.'
Her eyes shot open and she turned towards Parvati who had spoken. Stood at the doorway, next to her sister and Lav, the Indian woman gave her a sad smile.
Except that she did. The way he'd looked at her that last day... she'd hurt him. Bad.
'Trust me, I do.' She laughed then and it was an unpleasant, hollow sound.
Lav spoke up. 'How do you know?'
'I just do.'
'Have you listened to the entire album?' All eyes shot towards Neville, who focused only on her. 'Honestly, have you?'
No. She hadn't. She'd only heard the songs that had made it onto singles and even then, she'd only heard snippets. The whole damn record had been unavoidable but she'd not actively sat down to give it a listen. She wasn't a fucking masochist.
She turned away from her dark haired friend and looked to Lav, who stared right back. She blinked, finding herself the centre of attention.
Hermione felt attacked. Trapped and she hated all of them just a little. She loved them but right now, they were all being wankers.
'Can we not right now?' she asked/demanded. 'The last bloody thing I need is an impromptu intervention in my flatmate's bedroom as his naked boyfriend lays in his bed, with only a small thin towel between us and his bits, thank you!'
'Makes no difference love,' Nev replied. 'You'll always be an article of clothing away from my bits.'
She nodded, shrugging because okay, yeah. Fair point that.
'I don't want to do this,' she mumbled, trying to fight back tears. 'I don't.'
And she really didn't. Just thinking about the way he'd looked at her... it made her tummy ache and her chest burn as a lump formed in her throat.
'Okay, alright,' Lavender said as she made her way next to her. 'We won't but promise us that you'll listen to the album before you decide to really not go.'
'I'm not goi-,'
'-PROmise me Hermione.'
She met her best friends eyes and reluctantly nodded. 'Only if you promise to never bring him up again.'
The gorgeous blonde took her time in agreeing but eventually she did.
The ticket was taunting her.
After having escaped Nev's room, she'd gone into her bedroom and cried herself to sleep. She'd woken an hour ago due to a headache and to the knowledge that it'd gone past one in the morning.
As soon as that bit of information crushed down on her, her eyes had drifted towards the laminated pass on her nightstand and there they'd stayed.
The album cover was printed on it. A white background with two arms at it's centre, hands outstretched and photoshopped black while the forearms had been lightened to match the stark background. The image was a simple one and one she had clearly not paid enough attention to because if she had, she would've recognised the cover art right away.
They were her hands. She was their album cover.
I love your hands in a completely inappropriate and perverted way, can I take photos of them?
Sirius had loved taking pictures of her. On his mobile and when they'd been back in his home, with a slick and expensive looking camera. He'd had a talent for it and though she shouldn't have been surprised, she had been.
Hermione fiddled with her blankets, trying to calm her nerves. Logically, she knew that it meant something but she didn't know what. Remembering her friends' earlier words and before she could think on it, Hermione raised her mobile and finally tapped on her screen, confirming her purchase.
The Album downloaded quickly. Much faster than she was prepared for and her heart stammered at the titles. Nauseous, she pressed play and shut her eyes to listen.
Whore Crux, the first song of the album was a slow burning tune that built into a crescendo of noise that abruptly stopped. His guitar wailed and sang, flowing with lyrics about a tired life of women and repetitive nothingness. Nothing she hadn't already known, he'd told her about it himself but hearing it in song form had been something else entirely. Hearing it suddenly end had been jarring and it'd set her on edge for the rest of the songs.
Hallowed, the first ballad in the album. It was about sex and the feeling of coming apart and together again, he'd sampled a favourite song of hers. Blood and Mud, biting lyrics against an angry tune that described their fights. He'd painted a visceral image of her insecurity slowly beating him down. Fire Whisky, the first single, was a song about her eyes as she glared at him, it'd been catchy and riddled with innuendos. She would've loved it if it hadn't been so obviously about her. Hourglass Sand, regret and pain belted over the chorus and of how he'd wished it had all gone differently. He'd quoted her directly in that one.
On and on it went. Her eyes burning with tears, each track a bigger blow than the next until finally a familiar, pulsating tune reached her ears.
Bile rose up, burning her throat and she sat up in bed, clutching her phone as her headphones played out the one song she had fought so long to avoid.
Toujours Pur.
Beautifully fragile and all at once terrifying, the tone lingered in the background. His words, the chorus. Jesus fuck the chorus.
He thought them pure. Eternal and untouchable because she had been the first to make him feel that way.
The song was haunting- clawing and she cried and cried, finally allowing herself to feel everything she had tried so hard to deny.
The slow, rhythmic tone never wavered. Even as Remus' drums pounded in and Pete's base thrummed next to his guitar- but that pulsing tone lingered in the background. And though James' voice belted out the lyrics, it was Sirius' solo that played out all his raw pain.
She played it once more and then again. Listening to the words and dissecting their meaning.
It'd been so much more than a power ballad and Hermione laid back down, thinking. At first, there'd been hurt. Second time around, longing. On her third play, she heard acceptance and a goodbye. The words were multilayered and she licked her lips, knowing it had been done intentionally.
Hermione kept listening. More anger, more pain. All of his lyrics, a masterful weapon of choice.
The Veil, the final track. About dying to live and living to die, of going through pain to come out stronger on the other side. Returning to life and self-reflection the overall theme. The song wasn't the best of the lot, but it was the most powerful. Resolve carried the tune, the chorus a mix of hope and acceptance, the ending it's own contradiction as James' sang out that he could be all this and more if she came back to him. Unlike the first song, the tune faded out slowly, patiently. Almost obscenely.
The brunette licked her lips. Understanding simmering in her belly, hope burning her chest and she smiled as tears ran down her eyes.
All his songs... they'd been an apology.
A plea for her to come back.
She looked at the VIP pass and blinked.
She was going.
A/N: Maybe two more chapters to go and we wrap this up. Thank you all reading.
Erica x
