AN: First off I'd like to say I'm sorry to Sergey and Sven for having to kill their poor grandmother off. She was terribly nice and all, but I had to take writer privileges. Since someone mentioned in a review, how dare I not tell them I have another HG/RL…I will say again…yes, I have another HG/RL fic. It's called Hoping for a Refuge. I'll stop plugging now…
Disclaimer: Sorry for using your wonderful music in my pitiful fanfic, Andrew Lloyd Webber, but I needed it. :D Nor do I own the lines from the movie; Disney does!
Reviews: Saiya-jin girl, weirdpeopleandthepickle/Gothicalwriter, Smiles28, Gywnn-Potter, JinxTwix (Well they're not going to start jumping on each other randomly if that's how 'fast' you're talking…:P), katemary77, Rane2920072 (¡Gracias! Hablo español bastante bien. Tengo la clase de español uno. Ja, ja? Que es alemán¿verdad?) , fuzzypuff, venusrose (Thanks for liking this fic so much and for all your support on both fics!), QueenCrissCross, CharmedLeoLvr, Aljinon (You seem happy their grandma died…I hate HG/RW, well just Ron in general at times, and it's going to show…), FlairVerona, Radingsouls4u, and Aelimir (Would they dare kiss in front of everyone:D This is me…so…most likely, but I wonder what Ron would have to say.)
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Last Chapter: "Tomorrow. I can come tomorrow although I might have to cut it short. I promised Ron I'd try to spend some time with him."
"That's understandable," he said, almost dejectedly, but Hermione's ears must be faulty.
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"Granger, if you don't turn that down, I will personally see to it that you'll never be able to utter another sound ever again."
Once more, Hermione regretted telling her staircase to allow Draco admittance up it. She could certainly hear his complaining clearer but that was slightly better than when he resorted to throwing things at her door; the dents had been getting harder to pop out. The staircase was as far as he would ever go, since he needed a password to get into her room, and he was never getting that.
"Are you trying to say I can't sing, Malfoy?" she asked from the other side of the door, grinning a grin he couldn't see. Maybe she could soundproof her room, but where would the fun in that be? Although he did constantly take to nearly taking off her door by the hinges.
"Even if I was, Granger, which I never said, that's beside the point. I need to finish some Transfiguration work and you're racket isn't helping me any!" he burst out irritably.
She reached over a hand and stopped the music that had been playing. Perhaps she could procure some musical selections that had nothing to do with the play and torture Draco with those. As long as she liked it, who cared what he thought?
Glancing over at her bedside clock, she grabbed up her playbook before abruptly opening the door. Apparently, Draco had been leaning on it, waiting for an answer, because he nearly fell over and flayed wildly as he managed to regain his balance. She smiled innocently at him and said, "Well, I've got to go to Professor Lupin's. Good luck with your homework. Surely you won't hear us two floors up."
Draco followed her down the steps, still trying to get in his word. He was still behind her as she went out the portrait hole and she shut it in his face. She really did not have the time to deal with him. A figure down the hall, retreating quickly, had caught her eye.
"Ron!" she called after the person. "Ron, wait!"
The mop of red hair halted hesitantly before swinging around to face her. He smiled weakly and then it was gone. Both his hands were stuffed into this trousers' pockets while he waited for her to catch up. Hermione soon stood in front of him and received the customary greeting kiss. She took his hand which felt oddly clammy and asked, "Where are you going?"
"I'm going down to the Quidditch pitch for a bit of late practice. Do you have another rehearsal?" He disentangled their hands to gesture at the script book.
"No," she said, grasping the book with both hands, "I've got to help Professor Lupin with his lines since he's Beast now. The Tolstoy twins had to leave for a funeral and won't be back to finish the play."
Ron nodded in agreement. "I'd heard Ravenclaw had lost both of its Beaters. They're having problems finding any replacements."
"You said you were going to the Quidditch pitch." Hermione looked at him puzzled. "Isn't it the other way?"
"Is it?" said Ron flustered. "Well I've got to go get my broom before I go down there."
"I thought you kept the brooms down at the pitch?" she asked.
"I lent it to Finch-Fletchley in Hufflepuff for their practice earlier. So, I need to go get it from him."
"Okay," said Hermione and looked down at her watch. "Well, I'll see you after I get done or…you get done whichever."
"Alright, I'll see you back here." Ron gave her a quick kiss before taking the stairs to his right that went down and Hermione took the stairs to the left that went up.
As she reached the floor Lupin was on, a sudden realization hit her like an out of control Bludger. The floor above her own room that she had just exited to this floor was where Hufflepuff's dormitories were while Gryffindors were located a floor below her room. Ron would have had to just come down from the Hufflepuff's in order to be on her floor…on his way down to Gryffindor, but… if he was going to Hufflepuff, shouldn't he have taken the same staircase she did? Or maybe if he was to go around… Hermione shook her head confused. She could hardly make sense of it and decided that Ron was more than likely lost.
She opened the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom door and entered the strange sight of the darkened room. Making her way through the desks, she reached the winding staircase to his office. Hermione started to climb it, feeling suddenly hesitant to go up. The prospect of being alone for who knew how long with him was rapidly starting to sound scary, but in a good scary which caused her to worry even more. Why couldn't the professors all be ancient, wrinkled, and horrible to be around, she thought.
A strange sound met her ears as she closed in on the landing. She finally figured out what it was as she stood outside the door, looking down at the crack of light that escaped from the bottom. Music. It was music. Lupin was playing some sort of music that was not in the production; Hermione knew that score from front to back. A voice was joining the one emitting from the actual record. Quietly, she opened the door.
His back was to the door, as she stood framed in the doorway. Instead, he faced the music player that continued to play decently loud. She stood riveted, listening to him. Hermione felt she should not break the spell that held him, held him in the music.
"What sweet seduction lies before us?" he sang, softly at the end. "Past the point of no return, the final threshold." She startled at how boomingly the next line came out. "What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return…" Slowly, he ended and stopped, waiting on the next line, Christine's line.
Hermione didn't know why she did it. Sure, she knew the song and all… Perhaps the moment had caught her up in its magic and she briefly forgot herself, but she did it anyway and there was no way around it. From the door, she took up the song, "You have brought me to that moment where words run dry. To that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence."
Remus turned sharply in his chair to the foreign, apparitional voice. She grinned at his face that shifted from startled surprised to more of a happily surprised. Hermione finished the next few lines. "I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent…" She trailed off as he turned the music player's switch and let the melody slowly fade away.
"And you told McGonagall you couldn't sing," he said. "Miss Granger, I do believe you lied to a teacher."
"I never said I couldn't," she answered. "I said I didn't, which is completely different. Not as though you were any more willing than I was."
"Please sit down," he indicated the chair next to him. "I was a victim of circumstance while you set yourself up. Although, I'm sure McGonagall would have found out sooner or later–she always does–and then forced you anyway."
Taking a seat, Hermione shook her head and smiled. "She would have done the same to you. Neither Sergey nor Sven sounded half as good as you do. A bit of you singing as the Phantom and you would have been the lead instantly."
"You think so? I'm afraid you haven't heard too many people sing if you think I'm any good. Do you like The Phantom of the Opera? I've always found the ending disappointing."
Vehemently, she nodded in agreement. "Me, too. Christine should have stayed with the Phantom. She had a deeper pull to him than Raoul, a more…" she tried to find the word, "soulful pull, but his face and his nature made it impossible. I think people put too much warrant on appearances, though."
"I agree." He flashed a sad grin before it dissipated. "But not everyone sees the same as us. Now," his tone became brisker, "I'm right here." He pointed to a page and she flipped to it. "We can start on this scene if you want or whichever page you're on, Miss Granger."
She paused from her page flipping to look at his inquisitive eyes and said, "Hermione. Just call me, Hermione. I feel old being called Miss Granger, Professor Lupin."
His eyebrows shot up. "You think being called professor makes me feel young? While we're discarding formalities, you can call me Remus during practices, but of course not in the classroom. Being at the Order and being at Hogwarts are different. The other ladies of the class might feel left out." He said the last part in all seriousness.
Hermione couldn't help but laugh at that. He knew! He knew all along about the ogling and the feminine sighs that followed him down the halls. Splendid, splendid, splend– no wait…if he noticed their looks of adoration and love (or lust, depending on who it was), he must have noticed hers… She felt she had lost the ability to breathe briefly.
"I'm glad I have you in class, one of the only people, the only girl who actually pays attention and answers my questions that constantly get silence for an answer." That statement helped quell any fears that had shot up. Not that she was ever staring anyway, so why would she even need to worry. "Now, Belle shall we begin here…"
Quite a few minutes in, Hermione was starting to throw herself into the scene. Anyone who might chance to walk in on the two would have found the sight strange with Remus still sitting, but Hermione had moved out of her chair to kneel next to him. She gently held his lower arm and pretend to be cleaning a wound "Just…hold still," she repeated.
Convincingly, Remus burst out, "That hurts!" Although at the moment, he was far from thinking that thought. Frankly, he was trying to keep thoughts out of his head.
"If you'd hold still, it wouldn't hurt as much," Hermione shot back.
Remus tried to look angrily at her and not sneak glances from his book. "Well if you hadn't run away, this wouldn't have happened!"
Maybe, thought Hermione, I'm liking the yelling too much. Way too much time around Malfoy. "Well if you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away!" And maybe you like clinging to his arm too much. She inwardly scowled.
As instructed in the book, Remus paused as if thinking and went on, "Well you shouldn't have been in the West Wing!" You shouldn't be wanting her to touch your arm or even ever touch you for that matter, his own sneaky voice said. You dirty old werewolf…
"Well you should learn to control you temper!" said Hermione finishing out the argument.
From her lowered position next to him, Remus had to look down at Hermione. He opened his mouth to speak then bowed his head slightly, turning his head from her gaze that held a faint touch of softness in them and even some fire, but that she must doing for the scene. That's what he kept telling himself.
She moved her hand and pretend-rag farther up toward his elbow as if closer to an invisible wound. "Now, hold still. This may sting a little."
On cue, Remus gave a grunt of pain and Hermione could hardly keep herself from giggling. Regaining composure, she spoke tenderly, "By the way, thank you for saving my life."
Turning his head, he noticed she had moved closer. McGonagall had told them in group rehearsals that they (meaning Hermione and Sergey or Sven at the time) needed to get as close as possible during the scene to heighten the feeling, as she put it. Obviously, Hermione still followed through with that order even though she was moving closer to him. He dipped his head lower and said, matching her tender tone, "You're welcome."
Hermione knew she did stop breathing then. If she only leaned in a bit and tilted her head, then…then a picture flashed in her mind. One with red hair and freckles. She let out her breath and eased back on her heels away from Remus. "I've-I've got to go."
Remus leaned back also and glanced at his watch. "Yes, it's getting late. You don't want to keep Ron waiting."
She stood up, looking at him slumped slightly in his chair, and one arm propped up holding his face and his eyes somewhat dismal. "No, I can't. Leave him alone too long, that is, and he might run off with another girl." She meant the last part as a joke, but Remus regarded her seriously.
"If he ever did that he'd be a fool, an absolute idiot, which is hard to refute even at the moment." Hermione did not whether he meant to be funny or not. "Anyway, we're still on the same schedule for next week. Thursday and Friday? I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"
"I'll be here at eight sharp both nights for however long it takes until I get you reciting this backwards and forwards." She held up the book. "I have nothing going on. I'm more than happy to come help you." In more ways than one. Inward scowl again. OH…SHUT UP!
"All right, thanks for coming. I'll see you tomorrow in class then," he said holding the open door as she stood on the landing, nearly lost in the shadows of the unlit classroom.
"Anytime, Prof– Remus. Goodnight," Hermione said, glancing back at the figure outlined in the brightly lit door. Slowly, she stepped down the stairs with only the office light to go by.
Remus watched her leave and wondered if the Phantom felt like this every time he watched Christine return to Raoul, knowing his own pull to her was stronger than either two realized. He gradually shut the door, turned the music player back on, and fell entranced back into the music again.
As she stepped off the last stairway, Hermione saw his outline leaning against the wall next to the painting of a lit candlestick. She approached him and sighed as he embraced her before letting go to plant a kiss on her lips. They remained in that position until she broke away to rest against him.
"Did you get you broom back for practice?"
"Yeah, yeah I did. How did it go with Lupin? He didn't try anything with you, did he?" Ron asked in all earnestness.
She could only look at him incredulously. "What? No, he didn't. Why would you even say something like that?"
If it was even possible, he looked embarrassed and agitated at the same time. "Well," he said, "I heard about the costume incident and if he's making moves on you like that, I want to know."
"He was not making moves on me," said Hermione indignantly. "Who told you that anyway? It had to have either Lavender or Parvati. Have you been talking to her?" They both very well knew which her she was referring to and Hermione's tone left no room for any lying.
"Course not!" he replied. "I overheard some other girls talking about it in…uh…History of Magic."
Satisfied with the answer, Hermione leaned on him again. They always stood out in the hall ever since her and Draco agreed to keep the boy/girlfriends out of the common room since the time when Hermione walked in on some rather…er…disturbingly clothesless action late one night. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Ron, what do you think about The Phantom of the Opera?"
"Uh…" he looked at her, puzzled. " I don't know. Isn't that the thing with the guy who's mental and has a wonky face? Doesn't he kidnap girls or something?"
"Or something," said Hermione, letting go of him.
"Why?" he asked. Ron bent down and started trying to kiss her neck.
"Nothing. I was just wondering." She pushed him off and gave him a perplexed look. "You smell like perfume. How did you get that on you?"
Ron's eyebrows shot up and he sniffed his shirt. "Oh…that," he started, "it's… Ginny's. She sprayed me earlier to annoy me. You know how little sisters can be."
Hermione still had her bewildered look on her face. "Well, I need write an essay for Snape and to get some sleep, so I'm going to have to say goodnight." She pecked him on the cheek, inhaling the foreign flowery smell again.
"Goodnight, 'Mione," he said, returning the kiss.
She watched as he turned and waved as he went down the stairs. Her brow furrowed as she thought. Ginny Weasley had one bottle of perfume and Hermione knew what it smelled like. She should know since she had been the one to buy it for her. It smelled nothing like what Ron had on him, which seemed to be a sad cheap bouquet knock-off scent.
Still befuddled, she opened the portrait to find Draco Malfoy sitting on a green couch as if waiting for her to come in. "Granger, how nice of you to come back. Surely, you couldn't have been up at Lupin's so long just doing lines?" he said and grinned wickedly.
"Just shut your bloody mouth, Malfoy. I'm not in the mood," she barked from her stairs.
His voice floated up to her as she shut her door, "Touchy…"
Groaning, she fell face first into her bed and just laid there. Hermione wondered if this was how Christine felt, except without a deformed Phantom, she had a werewolf Professor, and instead of a devoted Raoul, she had a questionable Ron. For either way you choose, you cannot win. She pulled her pillow over her head as if to muffle the music only she could hear. Right about now she'd rather be Belle locked up in a room with the easy choice of either Beast or Gaston to make. Some girls have all the luck, she thought and rolled over to stare at her canopy not knowing someone else in the castle was doing the same thing and having the same thoughts.