Chapter Two

She found Ron and Harry sitting together at the Gryffindor table, in their usual places. Lee Jordan was chatting to Harry, who was nodding indifferently; Ron was picking his way unenthusiastically through his bowl of porridge and reading a letter. She presumed it was from his family.

As she walked down the rows of tables it felt as if people were staring at her as her back was turned- that she could feel their eyes boring into her. Accusing her. As if everyone knew.

Hermione tried to act normal as she sat down opposite Ron to a bowl of porridge that had turned lukewarm.

Ron had watched as she approached and now put down the letter. "Where've you been?"

Hermione didn't feel like eating the porridge; in fact just looking at it made her queasy, so she wasted time by buttering a slice of toast instead. "I slept in," she said shortly.

Harry had turned away from Lee and was frowning at her. She didn't meet his eyes for fear of the guilt he might see there. The guilt was eating her up inside. She reached for a jar of marmalade and began to scrape it over the toast.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, the concern in his voice making her feel sick.

Don't worry about me, Harry. Please. I don't deserve it.

"I'm fine."

Ron shot Harry a nervous glance across the table. "It's just that… well. You've never slept in a whole day in your life."

"I stayed up too late. That's all."

"Well," Harry began awkwardly, "You... kind of missed Transfiguration yesterday." He glanced again at Ron. "We had to say we didn't know where you were."

"I told you, I went to Herbology." Hermione's voice quivered; she cursed herself silently. She hated herself. She couldn't bear their questions; or their concern, which she knew was heartfelt. It just made things so much harder. Hermione put down her knife with a clatter, and hid her hands on her lap below the table- she realized they were shaking. "Honestly… I've just been tired. I've had loads of work to do."

"Is that why you went to the wrong class?" Ron asked, his brow furrowing doubtfully.

"Hermione, we know you didn't have Herbology yesterday." Harry's voice was gentle. "Please tell us what's been going on."

Her breath hitched in her throat. "I can't."

Now Harry was staring at her with intense concentration, his green eyes bright with confusion and worry. He leaned forward over the table. "You can. We're your friends. You can tell us anything."

Ron looked at Harry, nodded, and said quietly, "yeah. We just want to help, Hermione."

Inwardly she summoned all her resolve and made her face as blank as possible. "I don't need your help. Please. I don't want you to worry about me. I'll be fine."

LIAR!

Harry's face fell; he looked like someone had slapped him. His face was pale. Ron's too. Slowly Harry straightened up in his chair and looked down at his plate. Ron continued to stare at her in anguish.

"Hermione, we really-"

"Please, Ron! Leave it!" Her voice was strained and carried a note of anger that seemed to startle Ron. He looked at Harry, shocked and hurt.

You bitch.

She noticed that her toast was getting cold. The marmalade glistened and she thought she had better eat some of it- but the thought increased her feeling of nausea.

"Fine," Ron said in a small voice, and shakily picked up his letter. Then he threw her a very quick, nervous glance. "Oh, uh…" he met Harry's eyes, not wanting to be the one to say it.

"Professor Lupin wanted to see you," Harry said quietly, watching her with a guarded expression.

Hermione's hands jumped on their way to pick up the piece of toast and banged painfully against the underside of the table, causing several people nearby to look at her oddly. "WH-what about?" She stammered.

Harry's frown deepened slightly; he had noticed her strange reaction. "He didn't say. He said to go see him in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, during lunchtime. It must be something important though- he was waiting outside the Common Room this morning." Ron nervously buried his face in the letter, and Harry went on staring at her.

Hermione felt as if all her nerves were freezing, like someone had just tipped a bucket of icy water over her head. She looked at her arm and saw that all the tiny hairs were standing on end. The world seemed to be shrinking in around her. She was choking, suffocating.

The rest of the day seemed now to be impossibly short- there were only three classes before lunch.

Hermione felt utterly helpless. A series of wild ideas started to race through her head- any excuse to not go to see Lupin at lunchtime. But not one of them seemed adequate- or believable.

But there was no way she could face Lupin.

Because if she had to see the disgust, the accusation in his eyes, her life would not be worth living.

"Will we see you in Transfiguration today?" Harry asked in that same careful voice. "Or do you have another Herbology class?" There was only the tiniest trace of sarcasm in his words, but Hermione heard it. Her blood pounded. Harry's eyes pierced her own, as if trying to read the thoughts buried within. They glinted with something like understanding.

Her heart quavered.

Harry knew. Or almost knew. It wouldn't be long before he worked it out.

Lupin tried to keep himself occupied during the lunch break; anything to avoid thinking too deeply about Hermione. He could no longer trust his own feelings. It was like he had a huge knot of emotions in his heart, and trying to unravel them was impossible. So he avoided thinking about it. Instead, he tidied up his office. There were several large stacks of books lying around his office. He took each one and re-shelved it carefully.

It was probably a mistake to see her alone, given the way he was feeling, but he wanted to cause Hermione as little embarrassment as possible, and involving another teacher would only blow things out of proportion. All he had to do was give her a little discouragement. Probably something else was the cause of her strange behavior; he doubted he was the sole cause of it. He intended to find out what the heart of the matter was, and if need be, recommend that she speak to Minerva McGonagall.

He sighed and thought, achingly, I wish this could be over already.

She stood outside the closed classroom door. Her skin itched and burned with nervous heat. It seemed an impossible step to take- just to open the door and go inside. But she must.

Over the course of the morning, she had resigned herself to the fact that this was her problem, it was entirely her fault and she had to face the consequences. But that didn't stop her heart beating like a jackhammer in her chest, or the sick dread that squirmed through her stomach at the thought of facing Lupin.

She reached out her hand and turned the doorknob. The door swung open with an innocuous little creak, and she stepped inside.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was dimmer than the corridor outside. Dingy curtains had been drawn across the windows but yellow light still filtered through in shafts and tiny dust motes danced and whirled in their beams.

The classroom was empty. For a moment Hermione almost giggled with hysterical relief. She thought Lupin must have forgotten.

If only.

Then the door to his office opened and he stepped out. Her nerves turned to ice.

"Hermione. Come in," Lupin said, standing with one hand on the doorknob. His voice was calm. "Would you mind?" He gestured into his office.

Hermione felt frozen to the spot. She was sure she wouldn't be able to move if she tried, but her legs began to lead her across the wooden floor to the front of the classroom, as if they were being controlled by someone else. Lupin disappeared into the office and she followed him up the small staircase leading to the door.

She entered the cramped room. Lupin's desk sat in one corner, almost spanning the width of the room. Many shelves lined the walls, crammed with curious objects and items left by the past teachers who occupied the room. Along one wall was a shelf lined with jars full of brown skulls. Stacks of old books leaned against the walls, their tanned pages spilling out. A small latticed window behind the desk let in a surprising amount of light, lending a soft glow to everything.

But Hermione didn't see any of this. Her eyes were fixed on Lupin, who had picked up several of the books and was balancing them in his arms. He slid them back on the shelves on one side of the room and barely glanced up as she entered.

She stood just inside the door, feeling faintly sick.

"Take a seat."

She looked down and saw that he had placed a wooden chair at a comfortable distance from the desk. She edged over to it, sat down, clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them. Waiting for the admonishment to begin.

He surprised her by saying softly, "I don't want to make this any harder on you than it has to be," and, sliding the last book into place, he turned and walked to the large desk at the back of the room, leaned against it, and leveled his eyes at a point just below her chin. His expression was unreadable. He looked pale and incredibly weary, and it crushed her heart to think that she was the cause of it.

Without her even realizing she began to cry; the tears flowing silently unnoticed down her cheeks, a humiliating betrayal of her guilt.

Finally Lupin raised his world-weary, blue-grey eyes to hers and said in a gentle voice, "I need to know something. And I need you to be perfectly honest with me. Were you in the library last night?"

She found now that it was her who couldn't meet his eyes. The tears continued to flow. She knew she looked a mess and guilty as hell- there was no real need for him to ask. Long seconds ticked by. Eventually she found her voice.

"Yes." She started by swallowing back a sob so it came out as "nnm-yes."

Lupin gave a tiny nod. In that nod he took on an air of immeasurable sadness, as if some huge weight had been placed on his shoulders and was driving him into the ground.

Hermione sniffled. She felt utterly miserable. For what she had done to Lupin- for what she had let herself do. But at the same time- insanely- there was still a longing to be close to him, and to touch him.

To kiss him again.

God help me.

Now wasn't the time to be thinking that. No, if she had any ounce of self-respect she would stop that right now.

Lupin's eyes lingered on her, and she couldn't stand the weight of them, so she stared into her lap. Then finally he spoke.

"I assume this is why your schoolwork has been suffering of late." He paused. "Because of me, yes?" He couldn't bring himself to scold her. She looked so vulnerable.

She sniffed again, a pitiful sound. On the edge of her vision she saw Lupin move off the desk and step towards her- the next thing she saw was his large, long-fingered hand holding out a folded maroon handkerchief. "It's clean," he said, unnecessarily, and with a shaking hand she took it. The tips of their fingers met and touched for a brief instant, sending a shiver through her, then he drew his hand away and went back to the desk.

"So. Is this why?" His hoarse voice was soft and kind, and she thought maybe it would better if he shouted at her. Better for both of them. Still silent, she nodded and buried her face in the handkerchief. Then, amazingly, a smile creased his face. "This is nothing to be so upset about, Hermione."

She raised her eyes and stared at him.

"It happens all the time. Of course, I don't condone this sort of behavior – not at all- but..." he let out a little laugh, which struck a pang of fear in her. It seemed fake, somehow. False. "…I'm hardly going to kick you out of my class because of a little crush…"

Hermione's face flooded with angry colour. Suddenly she found her voice again, and it was strong and defiant, in spite of the tears still drying on her cheeks. "It's not a crush!" She said hoarsely, her eyes burning.

The force of her response took Lupin by surprise. His eyes widened, and he seemed then to look at her more deeply, staring until she was forced to blink and look away. "Please don't make fun of me." It was barely more than a whisper. Now the tears came back unchecked- the endless tears. "More than anything I can't bear that."

Lupin's attempts at flippancy were gone; all now that remained was a raw, heartfelt sympathy. And something more, buried deep. Some nameless ache inside him, a longing to reach out and comfort her. He swallowed dryly. What on earth was he thinking that for? He had no place thinking things like that.

I'm her teacher! I'm old enough to be…

He looked away at the window, desperately. He felt as if his life had suddenly turned upside-down. Why am I having these feelings now? Why all of a sudden? Is it because of what she did?

Is it because… it opened my eyes to something that I hadn't known was there all along?

No. Of course not! She is just a child.

Tormented by his thoughts, Lupin slowly levered himself off the desk and walked over to the window. With his gaze off her, Hermione looked up and followed him with tear-blurry eyes. He stood at the window, looking out but not really looking at anything.

"I'm so sorry, Professor Lupin," she said in a choked voice. "I never meant for... for you to know… I never meant for it to even happen."

"It was supposed to be a secret," he said in a flat, detached voice. The sound of it worried her.

"Yes."

A smile that she couldn't see touched his lips. "This is a wizarding school, Hermione. It isn't so easy to keep secrets here." As he spoke he turned around and looked at her, and finally she saw the smile on his face, and a light in his eyes which could have been tears. And there was something in his gaze that caught her breath in her throat.

He looked back at her and his guard fell; all the walls were stripped away. He saw her then in a way he hadn't ever before. He realized, then, with maddening certainty, that he felt something for her.

They stared at each other for a long, long moment. Seconds sped by meaninglessly and Hermione found her hands clutching tightly at the small square of cloth he had given her. She held on to it as if to a lifeline.

"Professor-" she said breathlessly, not even knowing what she meant to say, but he stopped her by simply shaking his head.

The spell broke; Lupin looked away and said quickly, "we shouldn't talk of this anymore. Let it be over with." Awkwardly, he walked back to his desk and began needlessly stacking the books there on top of one another. "Let's say no more about it, eh?" he said in a falsely cheery voice, and offered her a strained smile- one that looked as though it had been painted on over a grimace.

"Please, Professor," Hermione said, the anguish raw in her voice. "I need to know if…"

Don't tempt me, Hermione.

He looked at her calmly, almost coldly. "If what, Miss Granger?"

Anger flashed in her eyes. "Don't call me that!" she said desperately, breathing hard. "You never call me that!"

Lupin breathed in deeply. He was resting both his hands on the desk, leaning over it, and now he looked down. "Miss Granger, I think we've said all that needs to be said. You may go now."

Her eyes burned. "No!" She took a step towards him and the desk. Words formed in her mouth, but she couldn't seem to say them. She struggled for breath. Finally, she managed it, "I need to know if you feel the same way!"

There. I said it.

Lupin continued to stare down at his desk. His face was pale and sickly-looking below his light brown hair, and she couldn't quite see his eyes.

He stood there in silence.

"Please," she said again, in a half-sob, but there were no tears. Only that horrible, aching desperation.

"This is not an appropriate conversation for us to be having." His voice was stilted.

Her nerves now felt like hot wires. Her hands squeezed together, crushing the handkerchief between them. "Please," she whispered again.

Lupin's head swam. He sat down now. It took too much energy to stand, and it was as if the ground was actually sinking beneath him. He felt seasick.

"I'm going to recommend an appointment for you with Madam Pomfrey," Lupin said, and heard his voice from a long way away. Everything seemed unreal. "Perhaps she can give you something to help you concentrate more in class."

That last bit stung her for some reason. She let out a little bitter laugh. "You can't cure me, Professor."

He searched his mind for a reply. When he spoke his mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool. "Nevertheless. I think it may help."

I feel drunk, he thought. I wish I was.

Hermione sat in the chair and stared at him, and felt her eyes burn again. She wondered how she had ended up here. A few months ago her life was perfect. She had no-one to blame but herself.

"I'm sorry," she said again. It didn't feel like enough; it would never be enough for what she had done to this man. Lupin didn't look at her for fear that his heart might betray itself.

"You're an outstanding student, Hermione. The smartest I've ever seen." He paused, fighting through the sadness that threatened to engulf him. "You have so much potential. An incredible future. Please… don't jeopardize that for me."

Their eyes met. She saw the grief inside him and hated herself for it. "Your future is not the only one at stake here."

Her heart slid into her mouth. There were tears in his eyes now.

Now her own eyes overflowed; she began to weep again. "I know… I'm sorry."

He fought against the tears, holding them back. Suddenly everything was out of control. He felt his life slipping away. "It's alright. I promise you, I'm not angry. Just please forget this. Don't think of it again."

"How can I forget?" she sobbed. They sat only metres from each other, separated by his desk- but they could have been standing apart on separate islands on a vast, fathomless ocean. Her eyes brimmed with tears and there were tears on her face, and on her robes; she was drowning in a sea of tears.

His heart broke for her. He felt as if he was caught in a dark storm- unable to see but for a few metres ahead and all else was darkness.

She sobbed uncontrollably now, her face buried in her hands. They covered it like the bars of a cage. Her shoulders shook with the force of her crying.

He stood and took a hesitant step towards her, moving around the desk, so that it was no longer between them. It was agonizing watching her cry. He had never imagined how much he had a hold over her. To think that he was the cause of her grief was unbearable… it was torture. "Hermione, stop…" he croaked, but was unable to take the last few steps, to cross that vast distance and enfold her in his arms. That would be the end. It seemed they were at a crossroads- one path led to ruin, the other to salvation.

Help me.

But he was alone. Alone but for her.

Unexpectedly, she leapt to her feet, sending the chair scraping backwards. He knew what she was going to do before he had a chance to stop her.

She crossed the space between them in three or four running steps, skirting the edge of the desk.

She collapsed into his arms and it was like finding sanctuary. Wordlessly he curled his arms around her shoulders and placed one hand on the back of her head, burying his fingers in her long brown hair. Her head rested on his chest and he sat his chin on top of it, just holding her. Her hands were clenched tightly in the folds of his dusty coat, her tears soaking through it to his skin.

After only a few seconds Lupin gave a gasp and pulled away, his eyes red-rimmed, his face seemingly far older than his years. His coat slipped out of her grasp and she was suddenly grasping thin air.

"Please, Hermione… No." He drew in a deep, shaky breath and leaned back heavily against the desk, half-sitting on it.

"We weren't doing anything wrong," Hermione protested desperately.

"That isn't how it would look if one of my students were to walk in." He touched a hand to his forehead, rubbing there with his thumb, and squinched his eyes shut. "This isn't what… what I intended when I called you here." He opened his eyes again and let his hands fall to the desk, gripping it by the edges. He stared wearily at her feet. "Please go now."

It was as if a sledgehammer had been driven into her stomach. All the air escaped her lungs in a rush.

No. You can't say that. You can't mean that. Not now.

"Professor, why won't you look at me?" She pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"No!"

"I have to prepare for my next class."

"No!" She was crying again now. More tears.

Oh god, when will I ever stop crying? When will I ever be happy again?

"You can't pretend you don't care about me!"

"Of course I care about you." Very quiet.

"Then don't send me away! Please… just look at me! Professor…"

He looked up and met her eyes. "That's it, Hermione. I'm your Professor." Slowly, he walked around the desk and sat down behind it. "And that's all I can ever be."

A whimper slipped from her mouth; she tried to hold it back, but it was no good.

"Please understand- this is not easy for me. But to go down this road… it would be very dangerous. For both of us. It would destroy us." His blue-grey eyes were sad, and apologetic. "You do understand that, don't you?"

After a very, very long time, she nodded.

Lupin smiled. His eyed glinted again- she knew for sure now that he was crying. "Then let's say no more about it."

The world seemed to slip very slowly from under Hermione's feet, and now she felt like she was floating, surrounded by grey emptiness, in a cold, dark void. Sunlight fell through the dingy curtains and cast a golden light on Lupin's face, a light from another world. He seemed impossibly beautiful to her then, and sad.

And unattainable. Like something out of a dream.

With the last of her courage she summoned the words, "will you tell anyone?"

Lupin smiled again, ever so sadly. "You know I won't. We all have our secrets, Hermione." A strange look came into his eyes as he said this, and he glanced almost unconsciously out the window, looking for something she didn't see or understand.

Then it seemed like it was time to go. There were many things left unsaid- things that needed to be said- but a door had closed somewhere and slammed, locking them both on opposite sides. There would be no happy ending.

He seemed to understand that she had resigned herself to something, and raised himself to his feet with a great effort.

"Dry your eyes," he said quietly, and with great tenderness. Obediently, she did so. He studied her face. It was wounded, but stern. She seemed to have made a decision. "Are you going to be alright?"

She nodded mutely.

"Good girl." Wearily, he moved around the desk and over to the window, putting as much space between them as the small room would allow. "Your friends will wonder why you've been crying. What will you tell them?"

"I don't know." Her hair hung over her face like a shroud. "I'll make something up."

More lies.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. You shouldn't have to lie to your friends." He closed his eyes and held a hand to his forehead.

"It's not your fault."

"I allowed you to be alone with me. That was a mistake."

It hurt to hear this. She didn't think she could stand much more. "Can I go now, Professor?"

"Of course." He turned around and glanced vaguely in her direction, but not looking at her. Then, because something more seemed required, he said, "thank you for coming."

Now she found it even harder to look at him than before- it felt too much like saying goodbye. So she turned away without meeting his eyes and left the office, walking down the long rows of desks towards the classroom door. Outside, she could see students gathered in the hallway, could hear the murmur of their voices and the odd peal of laughter. It was almost time for class. Those voices seemed impossibly melancholy. She wished she was among them.

She reached the door and thought, not long ago, I was afraid of opening this door. Now I'm afraid to close it.

Summoning her courage, she stepped out into the corridor and closed the door without looking back. A few people gave her peculiar glances as she hurried down the hall, but she kept her face turned away and hidden behind her hair, and no-one stopped her.

-

The End