A/N: Sorry for the huge delay. I've been away. OK, OK, I was only gone a
week so that's a poor excuse. If you want the truth I'm just a born
procrastinator. Mea culpa. Anyway, this story should be continued
reasonably soon. Thanks to those who have stayed with me this long, and
pestered me for more, especially Kwinelf, Snow Lily and Kat Midstone. I
appreciate it, guys. I hope you like this. : )
.Chapter 17.
Elena took a deep breath, glanced down at the steaming goblet in her right hand, then raised her left to knock three times.
It had been two days since their encounter in the classroom, and she had seen Remus only twice since then, both times in passing. He had seemed pale, distracted. She had wanted to ask him what the matter was, but since their intense exchange she felt oddly shy around him. And besides, he had not remained in her presence long enough for her bring the conversation around to whatever it was that seemed to be troubling him.
Had she embarrassed him? she wondered. It seemed unlikely. She was the only one who had anything to be embarrassed about, but she found she wasn't. She couldn't regret anything that had happened in that classroom. Speaking the truth at last, having someone share her secret, being held close after going for so long without a single gesture of human comfort. It had been right. Trusting him had been right. Being held by him had been right - so right. A tiny smile flitted over her face, and she felt warm at the memory.
The door opened suddenly, jolting her from her reverie. Remus stood in the doorway, his expression bland and polite. He did not look surprised to see her, and she found that odd. It seemed improbable that colleagues often turned up at his door this late at night just to chat.
"Elena," he said, smiling tightly, "Can I help you with something?"
She was taken aback by his formality. Uncertain, she raised the goblet she held into his line of vision. "I - That is, I was speaking to Professor Snape. He asked me to bring you this. He said you weren't feeling well."
And he was right, she added silently, Remus, you look awful! Why aren't you in the hospital wing?!
Remus's eyes dropped to the steaming cup, and if he had looked ill before, he now looked positively moribund. Every trace of colour fled his face, and his polite expression turned icy and hard.
"Snape - Snape asked you bring this to me?" He did not take his eyes off the potion.
Confused, Elena hesitated. "Well. actually I met him on my way here. He asked me where I was going, and when I mentioned you, he.gave a strange sort of smile and asked if I would take it for him and save him the trip."
Remus's lips twisted oddly. "How. subtle of him," he murmured, but Elena did not know if she was supposed to have heard him so she did not respond.
He reached out to take the goblet from her, and as he did so their fingers brushed.
Heat and sensation fired a sharp bolt of electricity through her body, and unable to help herself, Elina shuddered.
To her mortification, Remus noticed. He froze, and his intense grey gaze flew straight to her face.
Elena felt heat rising in her cheeks, but refused to clinch her idiocy once and for all by looking away. She didn't know what to expect from him. Shock? Excitement? Disdain? Embarrassment?
But he displayed none of these. He looked . . . confused. Even . . . hurt.
"You fear me, then?" he asked, his voice soft and a little strained.
Of all the things he could have said, this was the last she had expected.
"Fear you?" She was so incredulous she forgot to be embarrassed. "You? Remus, why would I fear you?"
He inclined his head meaningfully, and she faltered again.
"That wasn't fear. It was . . . Well, it wasn't fear." A tiny smile touched her lips and she felt her flush grow hotter. She couldn't quite believe what she was confessing.
She watched his face to gauge his reaction, half holding her breath. He looked back at her, his eyebrows drawing together in a serious frown.
Did he still not understand? How could he not sense just how powerfully she wanted him to touch her at that moment? Maybe she should give up waiting for him to figure it out and just kiss him first. How would he react? she wondered. She very much wanted to know.
Perhaps something in her smile gave her away, for it suddenly seemed to occur to him what she might be implying. The effect was immediate. The hand which held the goblet he had taken from her began to shake slightly, and he crossed swiftly to the other side of the room, putting his desk between them.
Elena tried very hard not to be hurt. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged carelessly as if the moment had meant nothing to her.
But it had meant something to him. That was obvious. For a long moment, he stared at the potion still steaming in the goblet he had placed on the desk. Then he raised his gaze to her once more.
"You don't know what this is for, do you," he said, his tone dull, but his voice shaking so slightly it was barely noticeable. "Snape didn't tell you. He was hoping you'd find out for yourself."
Distracted from her own shame, Elena looked from him to the goblet at back again.
Frowning slightly, she replied carefully. "He didn't tell me anything. I assumed it was just to help with your . . . illness."
He smiled tightly. "My illness, yes. So aren't you curious to know what ails me?"
"I. am sorry to hear that you are unwell. Beyond that, I don't much care what the illness is."
"Well you should care!"
Elena jumped, some of the blood draining from her face. She had never heard him raise his voice before.
He immediately seemed to regret his sharpness. "Elena, I'm sorry. I didn't mean - "
She shook her head. "It's all right," she said quickly.
She had no idea whether it was or not. But she didn't need to hear him apologise. It seemed to be costing him so much, and he already looked so miserable, so . . . desperate. Every instinct was telling her to put her arms around him and press her face into his chest, to comfort him with all she had in her. But her brain overrode such foolish impulses, mercilessly reminding her of how he had backed away when their hands had brushed. Hadn't that been enough?
Meanwhile, a measure of understanding was beginning to dawn on her at last. There were secrets here, she realised. Dark and painful undercurrents were swirling just under the surface. She had been so absorbed in her own troubling concealments that it hadn't even occurred to her that Remus might be hiding something too. She ought to have guessed, there had been clues enough. But she hadn't. And now her eyes were being opened: Remus Lupin had a past of his own.
She looked into his eyes. "That's not just a medicinal draught at all, is it." It wasn't a question, but Remus shook his head very slightly.
"You have some secret. Something. something that makes you push me away."
He took a deep breath, and looked away. Then said simply, "Yes."
Elena watched his face carefully, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. A heavy pause ensued.
"Do you honestly think," she said at last, her voice grave, "That there is anything you could tell me that would make me recoil from you? You know what I am - what I've seen, what I'm guilty of. I watched my family die, and did nothing to help them. I've seen hell, Remus. Been there, done that. Whatever this secret of yours is." The sentence trailed away into silence.
Elena shook her head helplessly. "Look," she said, "You don't have to tell me. I understand. I - I trust you." Was it her imagination, or did he flinch at her use of the word 'trust'?
Still without looking at her, Remus picked up the goblet that sat cooling on his desk. He stared at it for a moment, then tossed back his head and drank it in three awful swallows. His face twisted with disgust, he replaced the goblet on the desk and met her gaze at last, his grey eyes as cold and hard as wind-driven sleet.
"What makes you think you can trust me?" He demanded harshly.
"I - "
"And what," he continued, his eyes narrowing, "Makes you think that I trust you?"
Elena stared at him, blood draining abruptly from her face.
"I - I thought - " She paused, then shook her head again as the painful realisation dawned.
"No," she whispered, her eyes locking with his in a silent plea, "I know what you're doing, but Remus please. don't do this."
His expression flickered. It was impossible to say what the fleeting emotion was, for less than a second after is appeared it was gone again, replaced this time by a mask of cold formality. He ignored her plea, behaving as though she had not spoken.
"Miss Greenstone, we are going to have to spend a lot of time together in the immediate future." he said abruptly, his tone clipped. "Dumbledore insists that you attend my classes, and for your own protection I am to continue attending yours. It is better that we do not confuse our professional relationship by introducing any . personal elements."
Elena stared at him for a long moment after he finished speaking, then her shoulders sagged in inevitable defeat.
"All right," she said quietly, her tone dulled, "I see how you want it to be. Forgive me for pressing you. Your secrets are your own to keep." Her mouth twisted slightly. "I hope you'll keep mine with equally determined reserve. I'm sorry to have burdened you with them, and forced my trust upon you when it was obviously so unwelcome."
She turned around, walked to the door and opened it to let herself out. Just before she stepped through, she paused.
"Good night, Remus," she said dully, without turning around. Then she was gone.
If she had turned, she would have realised just how thin a veneer his impassive expression had been.
As Remus watched her leave the room, the coldness in his eyes melted into a look of pure longing.
.And an infinity of hopeless regret.
.Chapter 17.
Elena took a deep breath, glanced down at the steaming goblet in her right hand, then raised her left to knock three times.
It had been two days since their encounter in the classroom, and she had seen Remus only twice since then, both times in passing. He had seemed pale, distracted. She had wanted to ask him what the matter was, but since their intense exchange she felt oddly shy around him. And besides, he had not remained in her presence long enough for her bring the conversation around to whatever it was that seemed to be troubling him.
Had she embarrassed him? she wondered. It seemed unlikely. She was the only one who had anything to be embarrassed about, but she found she wasn't. She couldn't regret anything that had happened in that classroom. Speaking the truth at last, having someone share her secret, being held close after going for so long without a single gesture of human comfort. It had been right. Trusting him had been right. Being held by him had been right - so right. A tiny smile flitted over her face, and she felt warm at the memory.
The door opened suddenly, jolting her from her reverie. Remus stood in the doorway, his expression bland and polite. He did not look surprised to see her, and she found that odd. It seemed improbable that colleagues often turned up at his door this late at night just to chat.
"Elena," he said, smiling tightly, "Can I help you with something?"
She was taken aback by his formality. Uncertain, she raised the goblet she held into his line of vision. "I - That is, I was speaking to Professor Snape. He asked me to bring you this. He said you weren't feeling well."
And he was right, she added silently, Remus, you look awful! Why aren't you in the hospital wing?!
Remus's eyes dropped to the steaming cup, and if he had looked ill before, he now looked positively moribund. Every trace of colour fled his face, and his polite expression turned icy and hard.
"Snape - Snape asked you bring this to me?" He did not take his eyes off the potion.
Confused, Elena hesitated. "Well. actually I met him on my way here. He asked me where I was going, and when I mentioned you, he.gave a strange sort of smile and asked if I would take it for him and save him the trip."
Remus's lips twisted oddly. "How. subtle of him," he murmured, but Elena did not know if she was supposed to have heard him so she did not respond.
He reached out to take the goblet from her, and as he did so their fingers brushed.
Heat and sensation fired a sharp bolt of electricity through her body, and unable to help herself, Elina shuddered.
To her mortification, Remus noticed. He froze, and his intense grey gaze flew straight to her face.
Elena felt heat rising in her cheeks, but refused to clinch her idiocy once and for all by looking away. She didn't know what to expect from him. Shock? Excitement? Disdain? Embarrassment?
But he displayed none of these. He looked . . . confused. Even . . . hurt.
"You fear me, then?" he asked, his voice soft and a little strained.
Of all the things he could have said, this was the last she had expected.
"Fear you?" She was so incredulous she forgot to be embarrassed. "You? Remus, why would I fear you?"
He inclined his head meaningfully, and she faltered again.
"That wasn't fear. It was . . . Well, it wasn't fear." A tiny smile touched her lips and she felt her flush grow hotter. She couldn't quite believe what she was confessing.
She watched his face to gauge his reaction, half holding her breath. He looked back at her, his eyebrows drawing together in a serious frown.
Did he still not understand? How could he not sense just how powerfully she wanted him to touch her at that moment? Maybe she should give up waiting for him to figure it out and just kiss him first. How would he react? she wondered. She very much wanted to know.
Perhaps something in her smile gave her away, for it suddenly seemed to occur to him what she might be implying. The effect was immediate. The hand which held the goblet he had taken from her began to shake slightly, and he crossed swiftly to the other side of the room, putting his desk between them.
Elena tried very hard not to be hurt. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged carelessly as if the moment had meant nothing to her.
But it had meant something to him. That was obvious. For a long moment, he stared at the potion still steaming in the goblet he had placed on the desk. Then he raised his gaze to her once more.
"You don't know what this is for, do you," he said, his tone dull, but his voice shaking so slightly it was barely noticeable. "Snape didn't tell you. He was hoping you'd find out for yourself."
Distracted from her own shame, Elena looked from him to the goblet at back again.
Frowning slightly, she replied carefully. "He didn't tell me anything. I assumed it was just to help with your . . . illness."
He smiled tightly. "My illness, yes. So aren't you curious to know what ails me?"
"I. am sorry to hear that you are unwell. Beyond that, I don't much care what the illness is."
"Well you should care!"
Elena jumped, some of the blood draining from her face. She had never heard him raise his voice before.
He immediately seemed to regret his sharpness. "Elena, I'm sorry. I didn't mean - "
She shook her head. "It's all right," she said quickly.
She had no idea whether it was or not. But she didn't need to hear him apologise. It seemed to be costing him so much, and he already looked so miserable, so . . . desperate. Every instinct was telling her to put her arms around him and press her face into his chest, to comfort him with all she had in her. But her brain overrode such foolish impulses, mercilessly reminding her of how he had backed away when their hands had brushed. Hadn't that been enough?
Meanwhile, a measure of understanding was beginning to dawn on her at last. There were secrets here, she realised. Dark and painful undercurrents were swirling just under the surface. She had been so absorbed in her own troubling concealments that it hadn't even occurred to her that Remus might be hiding something too. She ought to have guessed, there had been clues enough. But she hadn't. And now her eyes were being opened: Remus Lupin had a past of his own.
She looked into his eyes. "That's not just a medicinal draught at all, is it." It wasn't a question, but Remus shook his head very slightly.
"You have some secret. Something. something that makes you push me away."
He took a deep breath, and looked away. Then said simply, "Yes."
Elena watched his face carefully, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. A heavy pause ensued.
"Do you honestly think," she said at last, her voice grave, "That there is anything you could tell me that would make me recoil from you? You know what I am - what I've seen, what I'm guilty of. I watched my family die, and did nothing to help them. I've seen hell, Remus. Been there, done that. Whatever this secret of yours is." The sentence trailed away into silence.
Elena shook her head helplessly. "Look," she said, "You don't have to tell me. I understand. I - I trust you." Was it her imagination, or did he flinch at her use of the word 'trust'?
Still without looking at her, Remus picked up the goblet that sat cooling on his desk. He stared at it for a moment, then tossed back his head and drank it in three awful swallows. His face twisted with disgust, he replaced the goblet on the desk and met her gaze at last, his grey eyes as cold and hard as wind-driven sleet.
"What makes you think you can trust me?" He demanded harshly.
"I - "
"And what," he continued, his eyes narrowing, "Makes you think that I trust you?"
Elena stared at him, blood draining abruptly from her face.
"I - I thought - " She paused, then shook her head again as the painful realisation dawned.
"No," she whispered, her eyes locking with his in a silent plea, "I know what you're doing, but Remus please. don't do this."
His expression flickered. It was impossible to say what the fleeting emotion was, for less than a second after is appeared it was gone again, replaced this time by a mask of cold formality. He ignored her plea, behaving as though she had not spoken.
"Miss Greenstone, we are going to have to spend a lot of time together in the immediate future." he said abruptly, his tone clipped. "Dumbledore insists that you attend my classes, and for your own protection I am to continue attending yours. It is better that we do not confuse our professional relationship by introducing any . personal elements."
Elena stared at him for a long moment after he finished speaking, then her shoulders sagged in inevitable defeat.
"All right," she said quietly, her tone dulled, "I see how you want it to be. Forgive me for pressing you. Your secrets are your own to keep." Her mouth twisted slightly. "I hope you'll keep mine with equally determined reserve. I'm sorry to have burdened you with them, and forced my trust upon you when it was obviously so unwelcome."
She turned around, walked to the door and opened it to let herself out. Just before she stepped through, she paused.
"Good night, Remus," she said dully, without turning around. Then she was gone.
If she had turned, she would have realised just how thin a veneer his impassive expression had been.
As Remus watched her leave the room, the coldness in his eyes melted into a look of pure longing.
.And an infinity of hopeless regret.