Chapter Six

The Memorial Ball

Hermione had zipped past everyone in the main corridor. Uncertain where to even go—to collect herself, to catch her breath, to simply put some bloody distance between her and that man—she found she was making her way to the covered bridge.

So much had happened over the last few days alone, and now this?

She hurried along, not slowing a single step until she reached her destination. Once there, Hermione braced her hands against the stone ledge, pitching herself over the side from the waist up.

Her eyes shut tight, she breathed in deep through her nostrils. The air was cleaner here, and perhaps the peculiar position had a head-clearing effect, because as she hung there, suspended halfway over the bridge wall, it occurred to her that the situation might not be as awful as it seemed.

Clearly she wasn't about to tell anyone about their . . . stupid little kiss, and James . . . Mr. Potter was only just arrived back into his son's life. And he was obviously sharp enough to be aware that if he mentioned their previous encounter, he might wreck his relationship with Harry before it even had the chance to form.

God, though, could she really get away with calling him Mr. Potter when she'd not once called Sirius Mr. Black, nor had she referred to Remus as anything other than Remus since he'd left his post as the DADA professor? There was no Mr. Lupin that ever fell from her lips, it was Professor Lupin and then it was Remus. Would an insistence on calling James by his surname be an obvious attempt to put distance between them?

And dear Lord, why couldn't she stop the butterflies in her stomach when she recalled the mischievous glint in those hazel eyes when he'd stroked his finger along her cheek while they'd held each other after Voldemort's fall?

She let out a bellowing growl of irritation at herself for being so conflicted. There should be no conflict, should there? She didn't even know the man, so pretending like some silly little kiss had never happened should be no trouble at all.

And yet, even as she dangled there, aware how much sense she was making—logically—she could not help but feel that this was perhaps a thing which defied logic.

Another sound of irritation erupted from her and in the next moment she realized . . . her strange position plus the sounds of obvious, angsty discomfort and duress she was unleashing presented quite an upsetting picture to anyone who might happen across her right now . . . .

As so evidenced by the way Remus' voice burst out in concern from behind her, calling her name as he latched his arms around her and pried her from the ledge.

The werewolf tumbled backward with the very surprised witch clutched against him.

"Remus," she started, breathless when they stopped and she found herself staring up at the covered bridge's cobwebbed ceiling, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath her back. "What the hell was that?"

He turned his head, the gritty stone floor tugging at his scalp and hair a bit as he stared at her. "You looked like you were in trouble!"

"Well I wasn't!"

"Well I'm beginning to piece that together for myself now!" He shook his head. "What the hell were you doing?"

Hermione thought about sitting up where she was, but immediately stopped when she considered what the image of that action would look like. Given how her mind was already in a bit of an uproar over inappropriate entanglements, she thought the last thing she needed would be to pull herself into a position that would have her bum pressed firmly over the lap of a man who'd become a widower within the last twenty-four hours.

Clearing her throat—and hoping that Remus' refusal to embrace his inner beast meant he did not have the sharp sense of smell that Greyback had proven himself to, and thus could not detect that she'd had even a flickering of a wayward thought just then—she said, "I'm going to roll off of you now."

"Hmm? Oh, right. Of course." He'd not realized he still had his arms locked around her in that protective hold until now.

Once he opened his arms, she rather gracelessly toppled off of him.

Not ready to get up entirely just yet, she sat and clasped her hands around her bent knees. Remus pulled himself up, mirroring her position.

"What were you doing?" he asked again, adopting his trusty old 'patient professor' tone.

"Honestly? I was simply trying to clear my head."

Remus nodded, proceeding with caution in his voice. "Because of what happened between you and James?"

Wide chestnut eyes shot up to lock on his. "He told you?"

"Not exactly."

She made a face at him.

Holding up a placating hand, he explained, "I guessed. I know you and I know him. I saw your reactions when Harry tried to introduce you. So, I pulled James aside and made him tell me."

The witch chewed nervously at the inside of her lower lip. "D' you think anyone else caught on?"

Remus' shoulders drooped as he shook his head. "No. Neither of you are going to say anything about it to anyone, and it's certainly not my place to say anything, either."

She only looked at him for a moment, finding nothing but kindness in those familiar green eyes. There'd always been a sense of kinship between her and the werewolf.

"We're a bit alike, aren't we?" she asked abruptly, a thought that returned to the forefront of her mind every now and again making itself known once more.

Those eyes narrowed pensively, but she got the impression he was deliberately avoiding understanding what she meant. "How so?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but then shut it again, shaking her head. "Never mind. It's not important."

Remus nodded, climbing to his feet and offering a hand to help her up. It was really best not to broach what she was getting at, even if she did suspect. She'd probably had her fill of surprising revelations today.

"Everything will be fine, Hermione."

She slid her fingers into his and let him pull her to stand. As they turned to start back toward the castle's main building, she clung to his hand. Yes, she always had found his presence comforting. That should've been her first clue; after all, he was a bloody werewolf, to find his closeness soothing should've been troublesome at the very least.

"Tonks was a lucky woman."

They both stopped short and once more those wide chestnut eyes had snapped up to lock on his. Clearly the words had fallen from her lips without a thought behind them.

Immediately her face crumbled and she choked out a sound of shock at herself. "Oh my God, Remus, I'm sorry! I didn't . . . I only meant—"

"It's all right," he said, nodding, that sad grin curving his lips. He tugged on her hand to start them walking again. "And thank you. I suppose it's a relief that someone thinks so. I always worried over how unfortunate she was, to fall in love with someone like me."

Her brows pinched together in a sorrowful look. "You mean because you're a werewolf, or because you've become a bit of a bitter recluse in you 'old age'?"

"Oi," he responded, chuckling. "Says the witch who's apparently making a habit of running around kissing 'old' men?"

Hermione's jaw fell even as she couldn't help sputtering a laugh. "You said you wouldn't say anything about that!"

Remus gestured about with his free hand. "We're not back, yet. I was sure we weren't anywhere we'd be overheard."

She took a moment to glance about. They were still a few meters from the entryway into the castle and everyone else seemed to be inside. "Oh. Still . . . ." she managed, feeling her cheeks flare.

"I meant because I'm a werewolf. And a little because my condition has made me bitter toward the world."

"But you're not just a werewolf. You're so much more!" She shrugged, a thoughtful little pout curving her lips as they moved through the entryway. "And if someone can't see past that wolf to appreciate the man, then maybe they don't deserve to know you at all."

It took effort to keep walking as her words tumbled about in his head. That witch is sort of amazing, James' statement echoed in his ears a moment. Oh, Remus had already known that, but it nagged at him a little how true that was ringing at this very second.

He forced a smile, nodding. "Thank you," he said again.

James looked toward the doors just in time to see Hermione and Remus reenter the Great Hall. And they were holding hands and laughing.

What the hell was that about?

But then he looked over at Harry and Ron. They didn't appear to bat an eye at this . . . unsettling spectacle as the pair came back to the table. In fact, even Remus and Hermione, themselves, didn't notice this was perhaps overly-friendly seeming behavior until they saw him.

He wasn't sure if it was his raised brows, his pursed lips, or the way he raised his hands in a silent question, but the pair finally noticed him and froze. Both clearly aware he was reading more into their demeanor than was actually there, the smiles melted from their faces and they pulled their hands part.

He was supposed to try not to let anything happen with her, but sure, Moony could paw at the woman? Unbelievable.

Harry looked up just then, noticing Hermione and Remus were back. "Oh, Hermione! Everything okay?"

"Hmm, oh, yes!" She was suddenly regretful that it hadn't occurred to her that her quick departure made Harry worry. "Sorry, just needed to clear my head. I'm so happy you've your dad back, Harry!"

Grinning widely, he climbed to his feet and pulled her in for a hug. After only a moment, he pulled back from her and turned toward James. "Hermione Granger, this is my father!"

Harry positively beamed, unnoticing of how their smiles were a bit strained as she offered her hand for James to shake in greeting. "Dad, this is my best friend in the world—"

"Oi!" Ron said, giving up entirely on the Luna situation at this point, he was resting his chin on her shoulder, his arms linked loosely around her.

Hermione looked over at the pair while Harry made a placating gesture. Ron noticed Hermione's attention and shrugged, angling the top of his head to indicate Luna. Strange how she'd have thought it would sting so bad to see him cuddly with someone after the whole Lavender Brown mess, but this was . . . strangely a cute picture Ron and Luna presented. Unexpected, but cute.

"My other best friend in the world," Harry amended, "Hermione Granger. She's brilliant, Dad. Couldn't have won the War without her, honest!"

Hermione was grateful that the praise allowed her to keep her attention from James. She feared too long of staring up into his hazel eyes would have her blushing as she again recalled the feel of his lips brushing hers.

"Harry," she said, in a low, cooing tone.

He smiled. "It's true, and you're shit at being modest, so don't even try."

James was shooting Remus a questioning look, to which Remus was shrugging in answer, holding up his hands. "She's my friend," he mouthed the words.

Severus who had remained silent all this time looked back and forth between the reunited friends. His wounds tended, but his mind still swimming a bit from the mix of pain relieving potion and exhaustion, he started snickering as he shook his head.

"Oh, you two," he said, even in his current state, he couldn't help but note the spike in tension when Potter had seen Wolfy McWolf walk in holding Miss Granger's hand. "This is going to be amusing."

James and Remus both turned soured expressions on Severus.

"Is it possible I liked him better when we thought he was a terrible person?"

Remus exhaled through his nostrils, folding his arms across his chest. He shook his head, unsure how to answer that, because he was suddenly certain he was asking himself the same question.


Hermione stood outside the doors of the Great Hall staring at them. She already knew she was late, perhaps even pushing the boundary of 'fashionably', but she just . . . felt odd. Three days prior, when she'd decided she was finally going to go home and shower, get a good night's sleep before she had to report to Kingsley's office in the morning to start the ball rolling on getting her parents back—though any actual work on that would have to wait until after the funerals and rooting out of any suspect parties who still might lurk within the Ministry or any of its annexes, which meant waiting who knew how long before she could be reunited with her parents—she was aware of some interaction between James, Remus, and Severus Snape, of all people, that somehow involved her.

Oh, sure, she could be completely off on that, she could be imagining things, her mind working up worst case scenarios based on how awful she already felt about this thing that had happened with James, but there was something in the way Severus Snape's dark eyes had flicked over to land on her for a moment as he laughed at something to do with James and Remus.

Squaring her shoulders, she held her head high and started toward the doors, aware that if she did not get in there soon, Harry might send a search party.

Everyone had thrown themselves into the idea of this gathering. They all needed it, to focus their energy on something happy among all the misery and loss they'd experienced. Gladrags Wizardwear's proprietor, in particular, was pleased by the decision, seeing so many people flocking to their shop for new dress robes in the wake of such harsh times. Hermione, for her part, had walked out with a lovely silk garment that was a soft, powdery purple shade. And she'd even allowed Ginny to talk her into taking another dip into Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, so her typically wild and bushy golden-brown hair hung over her shoulders and down her back in smooth, graceful curls.

What gave her doubts was that she knew James Potter was somewhere in there. Would he think this was for him? Because this was no more for him than that periwinkle dress had been 'for Viktor' at the Yule Ball. No, that had been a night for her to feel beautiful, to feel 'not Hermione Granger' as the entirety of the school had come to expect of her.

No, no. He wouldn't think that, because he knew nothing more could come of the moments they'd shared before they knew who each other were, just as she did.

Oh. Her footfalls stumbled a bit in her satin heels that matched her robes as she cringed. Worse than the slim possibility of James wondering if she was looking pretty on account of knowing he was there, what if Remus thought she was looking pretty for James?

Her shoulders slumped as she shook her head, growling at herself under her breath. Since when had she become so very concerned with what other people thought? Everyone else was dressed up for this, so why shouldn't she be!

As she crossed the threshold, she was immediately stalled in her tracks again. The Great Hall was breathtaking.

After so much terror and destruction only a few days ago, so many of Wizarding Britain's surviving citizens had come together, pooling their magic to undo the damage to the ancient castle and restore its aged splendor. The enchanted ceiling was a field of night sky, so many stars twinkling overhead, it looked like diamonds scattered across blue-black velvet. Against that backdrop, silent fireworks burst and glittered, forming into gorgeous plumes before fading away. Along the walls hung framed portraits of the fallen, and a banner emblazoned brightly and boldly with their names had been raised over the dais at the front of the Hall.

She couldn't take another step. Her lips folding inward, she found her vision blurred by sudden unshed tears. She nearly couldn't breathe. It was so beautiful, which only made everything so much sadder.

As she lowered her head, giving it a shake, she caught Harry's gaze in the distance. He was standing with Ginny, Ron, and Luna. He waved her over, to which she offered a smile and a nod. Only . . . she needed a minute. She gestured back toward the doors behind her and mouthed Bathroom.

Harry nodded, but Ron looked over at her just then. He gestured toward Luna and shrugged, his expression somewhere between pained and apologetic.

Hermione understood then. He wasn't simply standing beside Luna, he'd come to the ball with Luna. She only smirked, nodding and offering him a dismissive wave. Oh, sure, it stung a little, but . . . if the past few years had proven anything, the timing was simply never going to be right for them. If she'd really felt as deeply for him as she'd thought, a quick kiss with a stranger shouldn't have been a deterrent in that moment during the final battle.

But it was.

She was just glad Ron understood, too, that things had passed them by, and that that was all right. Mostly, though, she was just glad his apparent comprehension spared her yet another awkward conversation.

Not bothering to look for James or Remus, or anyone from the bloody Marauders' school years, she turned on her heel and went back out the doors.

True to her word, she started toward the girls' room. She wanted to be alone, she wanted to take a few minutes to break down, to let the feelings that had crowded her heart just now in the Great Hall wash over her. After all, she hadn't lost a son or a brother. She hadn't lost a best friend, or a spouse, or a lover.

She'd lost people she cared for deeply, of course, but . . . . But it almost felt wrong to hurt, it felt wrong of her to presume her pain should have a place among theirs.

Her gaze fixed on the bathroom door, she realized there was another place that would offer her more comfort. Another place where it was more likely she'd not run into anyone tonight of all nights.

Once more turning away, she started for the library.


"Where is your dear friend?"

Remus paused in his reach for a particularly chocolately-looking biscuit on one of the porcelain trays. His shoulder sloping in disappointment, he turned to meet Severus' gaze. "I'm not his keeper, Severus."

Severus ignored Remus' exhausted tone—after all, Remus Lupin always sounded at least a little exhausted—and glanced toward the doors. If he did say so himself, Miss Granger made quite the lovely vision tonight. Of course, he'd never ever say those words. Ever. "So, you've no idea where he slipped off to?"

"God, man! What do you care? He got a clean bill of health from St. Mungo's and after everything he's been through, the one request he had was to have some time to without me chasing after him like some ruddy nursemaid to reacquaint himself with the castle. He's bothering the elves in the kitchens for all I know."

"Mm-hmm."

"Why on earth—?" Remus' words slid off as he turned and saw Hermione in the doorway. She was having some silent exchange with Harry. He ignored the notice of how nice she looked, but could not ignore that she was backing out of the doors.

"Shouldn't you hurry along if you want to keep those two from stumbling over each other?"

The werewolf's eyes shot wide as he snapped his head around to glare at Severus. "What?"

Severus only shrugged, folding his arms across his chest.

"How did you . . . ?" Remus scowled. "They wouldn't have told you. Neither of them."

"Oh, they didn't tell me anything. But you just did."

Remus' expression only further devolved into a look of anger.

With a sigh, Severus waved dismissively. "I've stood up to you on a full moon, you're not going to scare me now. And really? It was all in their behavior when they saw one another after the battle was won. It was clear something happened between them, and your behavior now only cements that notion."

"Nothing's going to happen," Remus said with a tone of finality edging his voice, at last reaching and plucking up that biscuit as though there was some triumph to the gesture.

"Of course not." Severus shook his head, shrugging once more. "It's a big castle, after all. I'm sure they won't even cross paths."

Remus turned his head, fixing the dark-haired wizard with a death glare even as he argued with himself over whether to stay put, or whether to go search for James.

"So you're staying right here? Is that because you trust nothing will happen, or because you want me to think you trust nothing will happen?"

Slapping a hand against his face, Remus groaned. "Why do you even care?"

Severus shrugged, staring off at nothing in particular, it seemed. He was right this was amusing. "Now whoever said I did?"


The library looked, and felt, and smelled just as she remembered. She closed the doors behind her and walked to the center of the room, simply breathing in the familiar scent of books and time and learning.

Sinking back to lean against the nearest table, she buried her face in her hands and let the tears come.

"Hello?"

Sniffling, she raised her head. Hermione cursed that she recognized that voice. "Of course, you'd be here. It's just my luck."

James frowned, refusing to move any closer to her. The more distance between them, the less likelihood anything could happen.

He stayed by the shelves, peering out at her. "Sorry. I can go."

She shook her head, swallowing hard as she waved at him. "No. No, it's fine. You were here first. I'll go."

The sound of her speaking around tears was awful and he found himself inching toward her seemingly without his volition. "Is it bad down there?"

"No," she said with a shrug. "It's actually beautiful. Everyone's enjoying it. That's what's making it difficult. I just had to get out for a moment, that's all. I feel sort of like an impostor down there. At least I did when I felt like I was going to start bawling, anyway."

Shoulders slumping, he drew only a little nearer, stopping to lean against a different table facing her. "Why would you feel that way?"

The witch shrugged, explaining to him the thoughts that went through her head as she'd stood down there inside the Great Hall doors. Fussing with her beaded bag—which she'd charmed especially for tonight to match her dress and shoes—she withdrew some tissue and blotted under her eyelashes.

"You have every right to feel however you feel, Hermione," he said, frowning.

She sniffled again, meeting his gaze. "Doesn't seem like it."

James sighed, bracing the heels of his palms on the table at his back. "Just because someone has more connection to the loss doesn't make your pain less valid. That's like when a relative passes away. No one says to you 'how dare you be crying? You weren't as close to them as I was!' You mourn together. You miss them, you are hurting over their loss, too. And there's not a single person in the whole of this castle tonight who wouldn't understand that."

Hermione nodded. She inhaled a deep, steadying breath.

A moment of quiet wrapped the room—any other time she'd think that wildly appropriate, given the room they were in, but just now, it made her more aware that she was alone with him.

"You must've thought me so stupid," she said, laughing at herself as she sniffled a third time.

"What are you talking about? When?"

She let her hands fall to her sides as she glared at him like she just might be the one who thought he was stupid. "When we first met. 'Oh, you're working undercover, aren't you?' God, I must've sounded like such a little idiot!"

James laughed. "No, no. Actually, I thought it was quiet a clever assumption."

"Oh, shut up."

"No, it's true, I did."

"You're lying."

Hazel eyes widening, he pressed a hand over his heart. "I'm not, I promise!"

After a moment, her lips pursed in thought, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Really?"

"Really."

"Although," he started, wincing.

She held her breath as she waited, barely managing to squeak out an, "Although?" of her own.

"The incident did make me glad I excel at casting cleaning charms. I mean, can you imagine what I'd have smelled like otherwise?"

Hermione burst out laughing. James grinned, laughing a little himself as he watched her. She pressed a palm against her belly as she went on, needing the release that came with her boisterous outburst.

"Actually, it did cross my mind that you didn't smell like you looked like you should."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, you! You're terrible."

She threw back her head, going on even as she was still giggling, "I thought, I thought you were masquerading as some homeless wizard in Knockturn Alley."

"Oh!" He bellowed, laughing. "I've seen those people. That's just mean of you!"

The doors burst open then and they both turned startled gazes on the entryway. Their reflexes saw to Hermione drawing her wand as James held up his right hand, palm out—the Ministry was itching to let some of their Medi-witches study him to figure out how he'd gotten wandless magic down to a science.

Remus stood there, his gaze snapping from one of them to the other. He'd heard voices and laughter from behind these doors and he dreaded what might be going on in here.

But they were easily two meters from each other and, well, other than Hermione's teary-eyed face, they looked perfectly collected.

"Good Lord! You scared the life out of me! What did you think was happening in here, Remus?" she asked in a hissing breath as she lowered her wand.

"I think it's obvious what he thought was happening in here."

Remus frowned. He'd keep to himself what Severus suspected. No need to draw more attention to matters they were trying to avoid.

But his attention still snagged on those teary eyes. "Hermione, are you okay?"

She sniffled, nodding even as he closed the distance to cup her face in his hands. "Yeah, I just . . . didn't want anyone to see me like this," she said, nodding as he tipped her head back to meet her gaze.

He nodded, pulling her in for a hug. "It's all right. Everyone down there's been a mess at their own time. It's healthy, and everyone is here for you, just like you're here for them, yeah?" He met James' gaze over the top of her head and nodded back toward the doors. "C'mon. Let's head back to the Great Hall."

Hermione nodded, hating how much comfort she found in the gesture as Remus turned around, holding her tucked against his side.

She also couldn't help but note that he had made sure to place himself between her and James.