Disclaimer: If it were mine, I'd be laughing at all of us.
A/N: Please review? Please? I'll get down on my knees and beg if that's what you really want, but please review?
Chapter Ten: One Step Forward
Hermione Granger was a smart girl. Impassioned, certainly, and usually lacking in subtlety, but undeniably brilliant. She had the amazing ability to analyze a problem or situation from every conceivable angle and follow each theory through to its likely conclusion, keeping in mind all possible variables and obstacles. It was for this purpose that Severus Snape had worked as hard as he had on convincing her to be his apprentice. He had had to swallow a great deal of pride in order to do so, and had even had to do the completely unthinkable: apologize. But, he had done it, and when almost three straight months of handling the most disgusting potions ingredients known to man hadn't scared her off track, he finally pulled her into his research. It was, after all, for this that he had brought her back to the school.
Said girl sat perched on a stool in his private workshop, absently worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she pored over his notes. His crabbed, spiky handwriting didn't make the task any easier, yet she constantly took down her own thoughts and questions as she read, her brow furrowed in thought. "What kind of cauldron were you planning on brewing this in?" she asked distractedly, almost more to herself than to him.
"Either pewter or glass," he answered in his low, silky voice. "Glass is neutral, and pewter almost entirely nonreactive."
She nodded and pushed a stray curl back into her haphazard braid, continuing to read. Even after she had gone through the entire notebook three times, she stared at it, her eyes flicking back and forth through empty air, following the speed of her thoughts. Her quill tapped slowly on the edge of an extra sheet of parchment she had laid beside her notes, and he could see a steadily growing black pool of ink. Suddenly the extra sheet made sense. She bit her lip again, regarding him apprehensively out of the corner of her eyes.
"I assure you, Miss…Hermione," he grudgingly corrected himself when she raised her eyebrows at him. "Regardless of rumors, I truly do not bite."
"You'll think it's stupid," she warned.
"Hermione," he growled.
"All right," she conceded, pushing the unruly curl back behind her ear again. "Have you ever tried using any women's herbs in the potion?"
"Women's herbs?" he repeated carefully, just to make certain he had heard her correctly.
"Well, yes, sir. You see," she continued, going into what Harry and Ron had always called her 'teacher mode'. "Throughout history, menstruation has been connected with the changing phase of the moon, because of it's similar cycles. As the visible moon waxes and wanes, so too does the lining of the uterine wall-"
"I am aware of the theory, Miss Granger," he interrupted hastily. "There is no need to go into detail."
Hermione blushed with good grace, but a part of her was also amused that her snaky potions professor was embarrassed. And if he tried to accuse her of being squeamish again…well, she had learned more from him than just how to make potions, and she could always use that little piece of information to make him squirm. "Right. Well. A lot of the herbs used to soothe irregularities or difficulties with menstruation are also tied to the moon cycle; some can only be picked at certain points in the cycle for their magical potencies to be realized."
"And your point is?" he drawled.
"My point is, perhaps finding one of the women's herbs will increase the potion's link to the moon and thus help weaken the hold of the werewolf," she explained, refusing to rise to the bait.
"How would strengthening the moon link weaken the werewolf?" he asked, feeling obligated to point out the obvious inconsistency.
"It's not so much the strengthening bit we're after," she admitted, frowning slightly. "However, the way most of these herbs work is by gentling the influence of the moon on the woman's body, almost absorbing the moon's latent magic, as it were. It provides a kind of shield between the person and the moon. Not a terrifically grand one, but it's there nonetheless."
"And which one would be your first trial?" he queried, his agile mind already sorting through what he knew, what she had told him, finding possibilities, problems.
"Helonius," came the prompt reply. "Also known as Fairy Wand, it has the most latent magic potential and blooms brightest under the full moon, which is, after all, the phase in question."
"Five points to Gryffindor for swallowing the textbook," he muttered under his breath, more out of habit than anything else.
"And five points from Slytherin for being so damn snarky," she shot back, and he was stunned. Delightfully so, but stunned nonetheless.
"What else has your know-it-all brain come up with?" he asked instead, letting it go without comment.
"Funny, I thought my know-it-all brain was precisely the reason I was here."
"Miss Granger…"
"Your notes on the properties of silver were interesting," she sighed. "And it's Hermione. Silver bullets will hurt a werewolf, but a silver dagger can poison him severely, even kill him if it remains in his system long enough." Her eyes clouded briefly, remembering the nearly four months it had taken Remus to heal from the damage caused by Pettigrew's silver hand. "But, what I have to wonder is, what about quicksilver? It's highly toxic, I know, but if we could find something to negate the toxicity of the mercury without affecting the properties and quality of the base silver, we'd have a much purer substance. I don't know what we could put it with, but it's possible, with the right combinations, that the purer silver would wound the werewolf within, while the other properties could maintain the human. Perhaps harpy's tears, they're well known for near immediate antidotal qualities with most poisons, for all that they're fiendishly hard to come by. It also cancels out mercury in most proportions."
He stared at her, following the trail through, and he nodded slowly. "It's a possibility," he allowed finally. "I have a contact who may be able to help us secure some harpy's tears for a trial."
"A contact for harpy's tears?" she echoed. "Damn useful contact."
"It comes with being a highly respected Potions Master, and when did you start swearing so much?"
"I suppose it comes from Ron rubbing off on me, and we agreed it was Hermione," she shrugged.
"As you wish," he gave in, none too gracefully.
"You're the one who wanted to go by first names," she reminded him, with a smirk rivaling his own. "I didn't want to, but no, you insisted."
"And yet, I have not once heard you utter my name," he countered, and she blushed.
"Of course you haven't," she returned gamely. "I haven't said it around you yet."
"But you have said it."
"Around select others, yes. It takes some getting used to."
"Which select others?" he demanded, a bad feeling settling into the pit of his stomach.
"Not Harry or Ron, if that's what's scaring you," she answered with clear amusement. At his dark scowl, she burst out laughing.
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"…so we're going to try the harpy's tears with the quicksilver and the helonius," Hermione finished, after giving Ginny the highlights of the discussion.
At the High Table, Ginny picked thoughtfully at her food, Callum having decided to eat with Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. She was a fair hand at potions herself, a skill which put her in good standing in her chosen profession, and Hermione had found that she usually had insightful things to offer as well. "What about virgin's blood?" she asked pensively. "It's been known to have profound healing powers, especially if it's a first bleed; you've read how unicorns flock to them. Werewolves can't stand to be around unicorns, they're too light, so the essence of something that attracts unicorns could…"
"Could repel werewolves," Hermione finished, tugging on the same disobedient curl. "And it would react well with the helonius, give it a much firmer foundation for the moon link."
"Not to mention that the iron in the blood would help draw some of the mercury out of the quicksilver."
"It could be hard to come by, though," Hermione noted, "especially with behaviour the way it is these days."
Ginny snorted indelicately, causing both Remus and Severus to look over at them. The four were clustered at one end of the table, both of the men listening with less than half an ear. Severus, of course, had heard most of it before, and knew that Hermione would tell him of anything interesting relevant to the research; he saw no need to listen into what could potentially be nothing but girlish babble. Remus, potions never his specialty, had been over his head with the first few sentences, and he contented himself with eating. Ginny turned slightly pink at the inquisitive looks and sipped from her goblet.
"Well?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raising.
"Madam Pomfrey keeps a supply in the infirmary that she gathers as such situations arise," the redhead replied with great aplomb. "I'm sure that if you ask her, she will be more than happy to provide you with some. Besides," she added, a mischievous gleam to her eyes. "It may not be first, but you could always provide it."
Hermione flushed crimson; they both knew perfectly well she could do no such thing. Neither could Ginny, for that matter, but that wasn't much the point. Now all she had to do was pray that Severus didn't bring it up later. Or even worse, now.
"Can you indeed, Miss Granger?" he asked smoothly.
Now would not be a good time to correct him on the name, she decided, and she kicked Ginny under the table. Hard. The younger girl grinned back at her, completely unfazed. "I honestly don't see how that's any of your business, sir," she answered evasively.
"Ah, but Miss Granger, it is very important for me to be aware of such matters," he disagreed, and she wished, not for the first time, that he didn't have such a beautiful voice. It made the horrible things he was saying that much more insulting. "What if I should need my apprentice to gather some unicorn hair for me?"
"Then your apprentice would politely tell you to go get it yourself."
Remus nearly choked on his cider at the answering look on his colleague's face. Good for you, Hermione, he cheered inwardly. Ginny caught his eye, her hand clapped firmly over her mouth to stifle the giggles that were gradually fighting their way around the barrier. The man thought it did his surly former classmate good to finally get as good as he gave. Well, not quite, he admitted ruefully. Hermione didn't have nearly as many years of practice, and she still had that automatic respect for professors ingrained in her. However, he had every hope that with a bit of time, she could succeed brilliantly at discomfiting Snape on a regular basis. Remus looked forwards greatly to the day.
"Trouble's brewing," Hermione noted suddenly, pointing to the doors of the Great Hall. A pack of sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins had come in at nearly the same time, and tension was strong.
"Slytherin throws the first insult, Gryffindor the first punch, Slytherin the first hex," Ginny commented casually.
"How much?"
"Five galleons?"
"Sounds good." The girls shook on it absently, much to the amazement of their former professors, and leaned forward to watch the entertainment with keen interest.
"And what's your bet on, Hermione?" Remus asked dryly.
"Slytherin, Gryffindor, Gryffindor," she answered matter-of-factly. "It's a very public altercation, no Slytherin would do something to let themselves be caught in such a way. Insults can't be easily proven, even with witnesses, but hexes can. Only a Gryffindor would be that rash."
"Yes, but the grace and subtlety of Slytherin House is fading," Ginny reminded her. "Compare the Amazing Bouncing Ferret to the Pigment Challenged Creep, for example. Draco was only a pale shadow of his father, without the subtlety, charm, and charisma that every truly gifted Slytherin should have."
Remus and Severus exchanged queer looks. While the story of Draco being turned into a bouncing white ferret in his fourth year was now the stuff of Hogwarts legend, neither had ever heard the aristocratic, ultra-elegant Lucius referred to in such a manner. Pigment Challenged Creep, Severus mouthed to himself. He liked it, and he had absolutely no problem in speaking ill of the dead. Pigment Challenged Creep.
The fight commenced, a tall Gryffindor boy sending a thin Slytherin boy flying several feet back with a fist to the face, and a shrieking girl in a silver and green tie cast a Jelly Legs Jinx. Sighing, Hermione dug into an inner pocket of her robes and pulled out the money, laying it in Ginny's outstretched hand. "As usual," she grumbled.
"You're too nice to other Houses, Mione," Ginny explained, tucking the gold coins into the pocket of her jean skirt. "While you read your own fairly well, you're still too idealistic about the others."
"Counting on a Slytherin to slither out of trouble is giving them too much credit?"
"No, counting on a Slytherin to have the capacity to slither out of trouble is giving them too much credit," she corrected. "Double or nothing?"
"On what?"
"McGonagall gives the Gryffindors two more detentions and takes away twenty more points than she does the Slytherins."
"No way," Hermione scoffed. "Not with the Slytherins using the first magic. Besides, she may be strict, but she's not going to be harsher on her own house. You're on." A few moments later, she was grumbling and reaching down into her robes for more galleons.
"How do you do it, Ginny?" Remus asked, laughing.
"Easy; one of the Gryffindor girls kicked one of the Slytherin boys where no boy should ever be kicked, except in extreme measures. That earns the extra punishments."
Hermione ruefully joined in, and even Severus gave into a dry chuckle. "You'd think I'd know by now not to bet on these things with you."
"We said you were intelligent, Hermione, not that you were bright."
This time, Remus did choke, and it took him several minutes before his breath was back to normal. "Just how long have you two been doing this?"
"Since Moody started screaming 'constant vigilance' in our ears all the time," Hermione answered casually. "It made us pay a lot more attention to things like that."
"Then with Umbridge and DA, it just made things even more interesting," Ginny took up, starting to laugh again. "Not only did it give us opportunity, it gave us fuel."
"We once had Ginny imitate the ugly toad's 'hem hem' nonsense to find out how many people jumped."
"Who won that one?"
"Hermione," Ginny admitted, making a face. "I thought that at least a few people would automatically go for their wands, but no, they all flinched."
"One moment," Severus interrupted, and they all looked at him. "Would this have anything to do with the two of you exchanging money over Potter's bed after that battle?"
The two girls shared a long look, much of the amusement gone. "Call it gallows humor," Ginny offered after a moment. "The last defense against succumbing to the pressure and the fear."
"What were you betting on?" Remus asked curiously. It had been over a year, sufficient time for most healing, and he genuinely wanted to know what it was that had kept these two incredible witches from breaking down on that nightmare of a battle field.
"That particular bet?" she clarified. "We had nine or ten of them going on during those couple of days."
"That particular bet, then."
"We bet on the first name Harry would say when he woke up," Hermione answered in a low voice.
As Remus had been at death's door, and Severus not much farther, neither of them had been there when the Boy-Who-Lived had awoken, and both found themselves wondering. "What was it?"
"Sirius," Ginny whispered, her face pale. Her appetite gone, she found herself aimlessly pushing her food around on her plate. She stood abruptly, straightening her robes. "I should go. Poppy will need my help in the infirmary with all that."
Hermione watched her leave, large brown eyes sorrowful.
"Hermione?" Remus asked delicately. "What did we-"
The girl shook her head, more wispy curls coming loose from her braid to frame her face. "Harry woke tearful with Sirius' name on his lips. Ginny woke up shaking."
"With whose name?"
"…Tom's." Remus paled, and Severus' brows drew together in a fierce scowl, hand clutching reflexively at his left forearm. Hermione smiled sadly. "Needless to say, we didn't lay any bets on that one."
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When Remus returned to his chambers that night after grading and patrolling the corridors, it was to find Callum still awake, sitting on the couch and dutifully practicing his pipes. He was getting better, the man decided, closing the portrait behind him.
Callum immediately stopped and looked up at him. "There you are," he scolded. "I thought you were going to stay out all night."
"Yes, Mother Callum," Remus teased, ruffling the boy's auburn curls.
"Can we go to the kitchens?"
"What?" It was an odd request, to sat the least, especially as Poppy made sure that no one in her infirmary, patient or not, went hungry.
"When Miss Mione brought be back from the hospital wing, she mentioned that Ginny hadn't eaten much at dinner. I thought that with how long it's been and with all the healing she did that she might be hungry, and we could take her a snack."
"That sounds like a very nice thing to do, Callum." Smiling, Remus opened the portrait back up. "Shall we?"
It was a very nice thing to do, certainly well intentions, but the two males entered into the infirmary to find the mediwitch apprentice dozing over her desk, wand still clutched loosely in her hand. Poppy smiled slightly at them, her kind eyes red rimmed with fatigue.
"Would you believe they tried to keep fighting even after Minerva got them here?" she whispered. "I do believe the only thing that got them still was Miss Weasley threatening to stun them all." She smiled fondly at the girl and shook her head indulgently. "Ah, well. Remus, would you please do me a favor and see Miss Weasley safely to bed? I can't bear the thought of her spending another night in that desk, and my rooms are right here if any of the children need anything."
Remus could think of nay number of reasons why he should say no, of why it was a tad bit inappropriate, but that would have meant admitting that his feelings for the girl had changed, and he wasn't quite ready to address that truth as yet. Instead, he nodded and passed the bundle of snacks to Callum, scooping the sleeping Ginny into his arms. He was rather surprised at how light she was, for all her curves.
She mumbled something and nestled closer in his embrace, her breath tickling warmly against his neck, and he was abruptly grateful that the lights were dimmed for the night; he could feel himself blushing.
"Callum, do you know her password?" he asked when they'd gotten to the hallway.
"She changed it yesterday; she hasn't told me her new one yet," the boy lied easily. "She could sleep in our rooms, though," he added. "I can sleep on the couch."
"Callum, that isn't a really good idea," he replied, though it was an awfully tempting one. "If anyone found out, people could talk, and that could hurt Ginny."
Crestfallen eyes, one blue, one grey, stared up at him reproachfully. "But she sleeps so little," he pleaded in a small voice. "I don't want to wake her up."
Damn. Remus sighed, shaking his head. "You have been spending entirely too much time with her."
Laughing, Callum skipped ahead in the hallway. He was, after all, a very smart boy; he knew when he's won a battle.
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"Well, it turns out that we won't have to wait for my contact after all," Severus announced swooping into the laboratory. "Albus had some harpy's tears in his private stores."
"Oh, that's right, he has studied extensively in potions," Hermione mused. "I'd almost forgotten that he was one of the discoverers of the twelve uses of dragons' blood."
"Seeing how much you read about it while interfering in your first year, how could you?" he sneered, and she promptly stuck her tongue out at him.
"Fine," she retorted. "You don't play nice, I don't give you my present."
"Present?" he repeated, arching one dark brow.
"I went to the library-"
"Surprise, surprise."
"-and looked up a bit on virgin's blood, and I think Ginny may be on to something with that, so I went to Madam Pomfrey and got a vial of it."
"Speaking of virgin's blood," he murmured, coming to stand closely, too closely, behind her at the counter. "What was that conversation earlier?"
She blushed crimson and grabbed for her notes. "Shall we start brewing, then?" she asked, her voice unnaturally high. "I think I've got the correct proportions worked out."
He smirked wickedly. Yes, he decided, still squeamish.
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Settling Ginny on the couch, Remus found soon found himself carrying Callum into the boy's bedroom and tucking him in, despite the child's best intentions of chivalry. He went back out into the living room and stared at the sleeping girl, indecision flooding his mind. He knew from experience that while the couch was perfectly comfortable to sit on, it was decidedly uncomfortable to sleep on. The wolf whined within his mind, and the image of a wolf nuzzling its mate sprang before his eyes. She is not my mate, he told it fiercely, though he couldn't deny that it was a lovely image.
Sighing, he picked her up again and carried her into his room, laying her down on the bed and removing her shoes and outer robes. He didn't think she'd be very comfortable sleeping in her skirt and jumper, but he wasn't about to undress her, so in that she stayed. Remus changed into his pajamas and did his other nightly routines, gingerly climbing into the far side of the bed. The scent and warmth of her was maddeningly close, and he could almost feel the contours of her body melding against his. He wanted so badly to blame this attraction on the wolf, but he knew that he couldn't.
Molly will kill me if she ever finds out about this, he sighed to himself. He settled into the pillows, ready for a long, sleepless night.
Two bells found him startled out of a light doze by the tangy scent of fear, and he came alert quickly. The girl on the bed next to him was trembling, but he didn't think it was from cold. Then he remembered how her previous nightmare had started, and he groaned. "Do none of us sleep normally?" he muttered. His hand outstretched to shake her shoulder, he suddenly stopped himself; he knew that waking someone from a nightmare was not always the smartest thing one could do. Sometimes, the sleeper went into shock.
It tore at his heart, though, to see her shaking, her head tossing from side to side, her long red hair falling across her face like streams of blood. With a strangled cry, she tumbled from the bed, hitting her head sharply on the bedside table.
"Ginny!" he cried, and the wolf howled.
She sat up, one hand clutched to her forehead, her trembling not diminishing. "Where-" she mumbled.
"You're in my room," Remus told her, quickly kneeling down before her. "Lumos." The tip of his wand blazed brightly and she winced. "I didn't know the password to your rooms."
"Callum does."
"He told me-!" Remus cut himself off. He'd deal with that later. "Let me see."
"I'm fine," she protested, but her face was pale.
"Ginny," he said firmly. "Let me see." Reluctantly, she lowered her hand, and he explored the wound with gentle fingers. It wasn't deep, nor very wide. It looked worse than it was, bleeding sluggishly but profusely as facial wounds tend to do. The fair skin around it was already starting to bruise.
Ginny closed her eyes as he incanted the simple healing and cleaning spells, letting his voice wash over her. It wasn't a sexy voice, a little too hoarse and a little too tired, but it a was kind voice, a voice you wanted to hear if for no other reason than that it gave you peace.
After the wound was gone, Remus couldn't quite bring himself to take his hand from her face, his rough fingers smoothing over her jaw, cupping her cheek. Vanilla and cinnamon teased his brain, and she opened amber brown eyes to regard him wistfully. It was that wistfulness that sent him spinning, that made the wolf snarl with protective fury. Hesitantly, he shifted closer to her and pressed his lips softly to hers, feeling his mind explode.
One small hand slid to the back of his neck, stroking the fine hairs there, and he deepened the embrace, his tongue skimming lightly along her lower lip before she opened her mouth to welcome him in. It turned slightly savage a moment later, with him nipping sharply at her lip. Horrified, he pulled away, his breathing harsh and even.
She stared at him, her chest rising and falling breathless little pants, soft and quiet, the sorrow coming back into her eyes.
"Ginny, I'm sorry," he gasped, but she shook her head, laying her fingers against his lips.
Standing up, she pushed aside the momentary wave of dizziness and steadied herself, taking her shoes and robes in hand and moving towards the door.
"Wait! Ginny, please don't…" he trailed off, meeting her carefully expressionless gaze, and had no idea how to continue. "Ginny, I can't…he-he…Ginny…please don't go." He stood and walked up to her, pulling her stiff body into a gentle embrace. "I can't, but, please…stay with me," he whispered in her ear. "I don't want you waking up from another nightmare with no one there."
They both knew that wasn't everything, but after a minute, a terrifying, heart-stopping minute, she slowly nodded. He took the robes and shoes and set them over a chair, taking her hand to lead her back to the bed. He laid down beside her, arms loosely around her, his breath warm on her neck. And when she trembled in the darkness, he held her tighter to him, and the nightmares fled.
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Hermione held her breath, watching the quicksilver separate with the addition of the harpy's tears, steel grey smoke curling up from the base of the cauldron. Her body cried out to her for sleep, she had spent the entire night sitting at the countertop, watching and taking notes on how the various ingredients interacted with each other. She worked in minute proportions, using no more than absolutely necessary to determine to outcome. She smiled and carefully added in a drop of helonius oil, swearing as a large poof of lavender smoke wafted from the mix.
She felt a hand settle on her shoulder and stifled a shriek, turning around with her wand pointed at the other person's throat before she could think.
"Excellent reflexes, Miss Granger," a deep voice breathed, her tired eyes blinking to make him out through the haze of adrenaline. "You might wish to work, however, on noticing when someone else is in the room."
"Hermione," she corrected absently. "And I was focusing."
"Yes, I could see that." He frowned slightly at her ink-stained hands, and the smudges of black across her cheek where she'd pushed her hair out of her face. "This is not a puzzle to be solved in a single night, Hermione, certainly not when you're this sleep-addled."
"The felonious didn't work," she mumbled, turning back around to look at the brown paste that was all that was left of that trial.
"Or perhaps it simply didn't work in that order or proportion," he replied, glancing over her notes. "It is not an answer to be found so quickly."
"Callum shouldn't have to grow up like this," she whispered, head sinking down onto her arms. Her voice became muffled by her body. "I just want so desperately to let him be anormal boy."
"Hermione, listen to me." Reluctantly, she lifted her head and met his intense black eyes. "I have been working on finding a cure for lycanthropy since I graduated, and each attempt brings me closer, but that is with twenty years of searching and diligent work. Not everything is successful the first time through. We have had a major innovation with the Wolfsbane, and we shall have another, hopefully soon. It is the way of potions to be trial and error in creation, more error it seems. This is something you must learn. You cannot let it dishearten you."
"The harpy's tears reacted with the quicksilver exactly the way I thought it would," she said instead, reaching for her sheaf of notes.
He took her hand in his and held it flat against the table. "You must get some rest, Hermione," he told her quietly. "We'll continue with this when you've had some sleep."
"It just seemed like it was a step forward!" she cried, frustrated.
"It was a step forward."
"Yeah, followed by two steps back."
"Even at that pace, though, we still get to where we're going," he reminded her, raising one eyebrow. "Or need I take you through the mathematics."
"No, sir," she sighed. "I just want it to be the other way around."
"To bed, Hermione," he ordered firmly.
"Yes, sir," she sighed again.
"Hermione."
"Yes, sir?"
"I believe we agreed that it's Severus."
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Had Ginny been in the room with them, she probably would have agreed wholeheartedly with Hermione. Every step forward was indeed followed by two steps back. She woke up with the sun streaming across her face, in her own room, her own bed, without any idea of having got there. She could still smell the scent of Remus against her back, on her neck. And on the nightstand, set a safe distance as always from the side of her bed, there was a note.
She didn't want to read it. Anything that explained how she woke up alone in her own bed after sleeping so peacefully, dreamlessly, in Remus' arms had to be a bad thing. She was, however, a Gryffindor, and one who knew better than most how courage and bravery applied in all sorts of situations, so she reluctantly unfolded the parchment.
"Ginny,
I am deeply sorry for last night. My behaviour was inexcusable, and it shall not happen again. Poppy flooed me with the password to your rooms so that I could take you back, and I'll be speaking with Callum about his poor lack of judgment. And be chastising myself for my own poor decision. I am sorry if I have in any way hurt you, and hope that you had no unpleasant dreams after being returned to your own room.
-R.J. Lupin
Stunned, Ginny let the paper fall from her hands to the floor, sitting dumbly on the edge of her bed.
He had asked her to stay.
One step forward.
He had regretted it.
Was it really only two steps back?