She noticed Ron staring at her and looked up at him. When their eyes locked he leaned down his lips brushed hers lightly as his hand tipped her chin up slightly. It was the way she had always hoped to be kissed and yet it wasn't right. It didn't feel right. She heard the door open and they both broke away and saw there in the doorway the very man her errant thoughts had rested on moments earlier.
Lupin neared the door of the Charms classroom where he hoped to engage his colleague Filius Flitwick in a cup of tea before bed. He absentmindedly stopped at the door and twisted the bronze doorknob to reveal a dark room with two shadowy figures intertwined by the window. Realizing what he had stumbled upon, he began to back out of the classroom but his hurried footsteps apparently registered and the pair divided quickly. As they turned to look at their intruder, the murky mist which had obscured all light, was over come by the moons brilliance and in its victory the moon highlighted the amorous couple's features.
Hermione let out an embarrassed squeak. Overcome by mortification and shame she blushed and stared at her feet, hoping the shadowy haze that had enveloped the sky would once again obscure everything, especially her. Ron had much the same reaction, his eyes grew wide, almost like Luna's, the girl who he had once scoffed at, and on occasion still did. His ears grew the characteristic bright pink that classified him as part of the Weasley clan. After an awkward moment of silence, Lupin spoke a tight "excuse me" and walked out briskly.
Hermione stood staring at the door in a trance, her mind replayed Lupin's reaction, and analyzed it. Ron licked his lips nervously, his rough tongue wetting the smooth lips that tasted slightly of raspberry lip balm. He turned cautiously towards Hermione to gage her reaction to his small revelation. She didn't seem to be paying attention to him, instead she began walking towards the door, and he risked attracting Flich's wrath by calling out to her in the deserted corridor. She stopped and turned around, fixing him with a befuddled stare before she continued on her way. Ron desperately wanted to chase after her, but he still needed to make his rounds and she did not seem like she was capable of talking to him. He walked away disappointed.
Hermione turned over his reaction again in her mind, scrutinizing everything, from the silence that had permeated the room, the silvery light that illuminated his reaction to the whole scene. It was only then did she remember Ron, and why Remus had come to see anything less than platonic between her and her childhood friend. The thoughts bounced one on top of the other, small voices in her head bandied choices. Walking into her dormitory's hard oak door she found her feet had yet again taken her to Gryffindor Tower.
Amidst the muted snoring and soft sighs of her roommates she fell asleep, dreaming of moonlit nights, werewolves, and pondering the subtle difference between cream cakes and clouds.
The cool air touched her naked eyes as half sleep left and she crawled out of bed. She leisurely prepared for the day. Shimmying out of the dormitory just as her lackadaisical roommates were shaking the sleep from their eyes. She sat down to breakfast in the almost deserted great hall. As she ate, she watched the hall fill with students from all the houses. She wearily pondered the prospect of going to Hogsmeade on this dreary day, for she only had to look up at the enchanted ceiling to see it overcast and gloomy.
Stealing a glance at the head table she noticed Lupin was not there, and though this could have been attributed to many things, she couldn't help but think it was because of their encounter last night, which inevitably brought her back to Ron and her newly arisen troubles.
Speak of the devil a voice mumbled inside her mind. Ron and Harry approached, Ron looking much the same he had for years, with his red hair tousled with sleep and eyes half closed. Harry looked livelier than he had in years. His eyes seemed to sparkle; she wondered what had caused the change. After Sirius's death he had seemed more subdued, no matter what they had done, he seemed to be in eternal mourning.
They both grabbed pieces of toast with a distinct lack of interest for eating. Ron managed to fall asleep and eat at the same time. She imagined the early Quidditch practices they had been inserting into their schedules had been making mornings Hell. She wanted to make some idle chitchat, but Harry seemed to be in his own world. Hermione sighed tiredly, awkwardly grimacing as an orange seed found its way into her esophagus. Earning a concerned glance from Ron, Harry and a few hard pats on the back by Neville. She smiled and regained her composure.
Hermione finished her breakfast with as much enthusiasm as Ron had eaten with. During the short snippets of conversation she had with Neville, she had planned out her Hogsmeade day.
Back in the beginning of the year Harry, Ron and her would all go together. Lately though she had developed the habit of going by herself. It had made shopping for things easier, but it was rather lonely. Today would be even worse now that she couldn't even ask Harry or Ron if they wanted to accompany her, she had to sort out things with Ron before anything else. It seemed the day would be Hell for her too.
Upon entering the Common Room she noticed it was empty, except for a few First years playing a game of Exploding Snap. She made a quick trip up the stairs to the Sixth Year girls' dormitory to grab her bag. With that procured she set off for Hogsmeade.
Hermione stepped out of the thick mist and into Madame Puddifoot's Café. The cramped atmosphere was warm and smelled thickly of pastries. Most of the store was a lurid pink, which Hermione cringed at. She walked to the corner booth, passing by Luna and Neville, who continued to chat nervously. She set down her packages with a great sigh. From her bag she retrieved an old trashy romance novel. She sighed again when she caught a glimpse of an awkward kiss between the two. She stayed for two hours, reading dutifully about a nubile young woman who fell in love with a two dimensional male character, who was described as rough thirty-eight times.
Hermione left the café. An endless deluge suddenly assaulted her. The distant rumble of thunder she had heard before seemed closer now. Hermione searched but couldn't see any other students trapped out in the sheet of rain. She began wondering at the time. Without her watch she had no idea what time it was, and without the sun she could not even estimate it. She started in the direction she knew the castle to be, walking at a slow pace. What's the point of walking fast, I'm already soaked.
She felt chills up her spine and the hairs at the back of her neck seemed to prick up, alerting her that something was seriously wrong. She spun around quickly. Nothing but the endless clouds of Scottish mist greeted her. She tried to listen for some kind of sound. The unremitting rain poured it self over her, the only thing to hear was water slapping the ground. She spun again and struggled to see something, a light perhaps that could shine through the haze. Nothing.
Hermione's heartbeat picked up and adrenaline began to taper into her veins. Claustrophobia girded her in the open space. Her breath came in harsh gasps as she began running, looking searching for something in the gray prison that had engulfed her. She wanted to break down; the irrational fear seemed to grip her heart, crushing it within her chest, she felt as if she was drowning. She had no idea which direction the castle was in.
The wand! She was a witch, the best one of her age. She could perform a spell, make the rain go away or something else equally as extraordinary, but the fear had not only encircled her heart, it had a firm grasp on her head too. She couldn't think. Her thoughts came out in choppy phrases. Has someone cast a spell on me? Confundus perhaps, she wondered. She searched for anyone in the fog. No one. The overwhelming sensation to give up became present again. That was when she saw it. A Light, faint but clear. She instantly forgot all thoughts of giving up and stumbled towards the light. The light grew stronger as she got closer until finally she was about to see a large shop. Thank Merlin! It is…Hogshead? Common sense told her she was better off in the freezing rain but she wasn't listening to her head at that point, so she ventured in. The heat hit her like a Weasley hug when she opened the door.
She almost laughed at what she must look like. A young woman, cheeks a rosy pink from running, clothes plastered to her body, dripping icy water, and lips with an icy blue tinge. One of the more unsavory men offered to "warm her up" a bit. Her eyes had widened with shock and disgust. The barmaid, a busty woman in her early forties with black hair that rivaled Madam Rosmerta's had slung an arm around her and with laughing eyes told him, "sod off yer randy old plonker." he had glared a bit, though she promptly laughed off.
Once she was seated in a table near the roaring fire, she thanked the barmaid, Demie, for her help. Hermione had to admit that this was extremely different from the last time she had been in the old pub. The barman, a grumpy old codger, was nowhere to be seen this time and the pub look a good deal cleaner than it had the last time also.
The barmaid appeared beside her again and with a swish and flick of her wand, Hermione was completely dry again. She smiled down at the younger girl and asked if Hermione would like a pint. Hermione politely declined and instead requested a mug of butterbeer; Demie laughed and said she would try to scrounge some up. She brought back a clean steaming mug of butterbeer and sat down beside Hermione.
Hermione took the proffered mug gratefully, and downed a few gulps. The liquid gave her lips some much-needed warmth. She sighed happily and thanked Demie yet again. Demie continued to smile shooting Hermione inquisitive looks now and again. Hermione pretended not to notice. "So whats er lass like yer doing in a place like this?" Apparently Demie wasn't one to take a hint.
"Actually would you mind telling me the time? I'm afraid I might be late in going back to Hogwarts…" Hermione asked, remembering that she was probably missing dinner. "Hogwarts? Well lass its already fourteen past eight, is that late?" Hermione choked on her butterbeer. "Eight? How can it already be eight? That's impossible! Oh dear, how will I get back?" Hermione was searching her options in her head while yelling denials.
