Chapter Seven

Noemie stood in front of the mirror in her dormitory's lavatory, running her brush through her hair. She and Remus had agreed to meet up at half three, find an empty room to practice in, and get started. After her last class of the day, she'd rushed back up to the dormitory, feeling a little insecure all of the sudden. Usually, Noemie was content with most things about herself. But she knew for a fact that Remus was better than her at Defense, and as she'd stood outside on the grounds with Marlene McKinnon and Lily Evans, she'd become increasingly aware of their natural beauty. That, Noemie thought, she did not possess.

This wasn't to say she was necessarily self conscious about her appearance. And realistically she knew there was no reason to be nervous about her appearance, because she was simply going to a classroom to practice spells with Remus.

At the same time, Remus was friends with Lily and Marlene. Lily's flaming red hair and green eyes were so unique, and so gorgeous, and Marlene was a bright blonde with oceanic eyes. Noemie's brown on brown couldn't even begin to compare.

She'd thought about expressing these thoughts to Alice, grabbing her arm and pulling her away, but she knew that no matter what, it didn't matter.

Noemie looked at her own reflection in the mirror. Her pale reflection, with makeup covering a bruise on her cheek she hadn't bothered to heal completely, stared back at her. Noemie frowned. She set her hairbrush down on the sink and looked back at her own reflection. "It doesn't matter," she said softly, as if to remind herself.

It couldn't matter, because if her father knew she was getting closer to anyone, there would be hell to pay. Noemie was barely holding it together as it was.

She looked down at the old watch she wore on her wrist, sighing when she saw how close it was to their meeting time. She needed to get down to the common room to meet up with Remus before she made them both late. She had Remus on loan from Sirius and Peter for only a short matter of time, and she really did need some extra practice with the Defense spells before the exam.

The common room had a few younger students in it, and then Noemie caught sight of Remus with a book in his lap. She was about to say hello to him when he looked up at her and smiled. "Good, you're here," he said, carefully marking his page and putting the book in his shoulder bag.

"Of course I'm here," she said, confused.

"I just meant--whatever," he said, standing up. "How were your classes today?"

"Just fine," Noemie said, starting to walk out of the common room with him. "And yours?"

"Boring," he replied. "You should be glad you didn't take Divination."

"I took Arithmancy," Noemie said, looking incredulously at him. "Isn't that worse?"

Remus whistled as they walked through the corridors. Noemie didn't know where they were going, but Remus seemed to have an exact path. "Maybe a bit," he conceded. "But still. Divination, with Peter, Sirius, and James. Can you imagine?"

She let herself chuckle. "I guess I can understand," she said. "But I'm stuck in Arithmancy with you, so what's worse?"

Remus laughed too, but his was loud and boisterous. Noemie, with a pang, realized she'd never heard herself laugh like that, and she knew she probably never would.

They continued on their path, until they reached a hall Noemie rarely went to because there was nothing there but a broom closet. Noemie thought perhaps they were going to just practice in the hallway, until Remus opened the broom closet door and walked inside.

Noemie stayed planted outside, eyes wide.

Remus's head reappeared a moment later. "Are you coming?"

"Into the closet with you?" Noemie asked, glaring at him.

Remus just laughed again. "It's not a closet, come on."

He took her hand, and Noemie noted immediately the softness of his palm against hers. Remus tugged her gently and they entered what Noemie knew was a closet, but inexplicably was fashioned as a small classroom. "What is--"

"Don't think about it too much," Remus replied, heading over to one of the desks. He hopped up to sit on top of it, and Noemie followed, leaning against one across from him.

"So, what are we practicing?"

"There are a few things that will come up in the exam," Remus said. Noemie leaned against the desk, listening to him, and finding his voice oddly calming. Before too long, they were practicing a variety of spells. Remus was patient and kind, correcting the positioning of her wand every time her spells were apparently weaker.

At one point, in what Noemie thought to be a cliché from muggle entertainment, Remus stood close enough, his hand covering hers, that she could feel his breath rustling her hair. It was a good thing she'd worn makeup, because her face was surely a bright red without it. Once upon a time, when she'd been younger; she'd dreamed that this might happen to her. Now, however, the quickening of her pulse was dangerous.

Her father barely tolerated the friends she did have. If she got too close to Remus, it would infuriate him. It would be worse if she developed feelings for Remus.

She quietly cast the protective spell, creating an opaque dome that encased them both. As long as she focused it would remain, but Noemie'd mind was bouncing between her father's violence, the fact that Remus still hadn't moved back and his hand was still on hers, and of course trying to maintain the enchantment.

Her done faded quickly. She heard Remus give a small sigh. "What happened?"

"I'm lousy at defense," Noemie replied, taking a small step away from her.

"Rumour is you got an O on the O.W.L.," he stared. "You can't be that lousy."

"Well—" she paused, flustered, "—then step back."

"Am I distracting you?" He asked teasingly. To her utter disbelief, Remus seemed to subconsciously step closer to her again.

"You—Your breath is," Noemie said, panicked, as she thought about all the punishments her father would inflict on her.

Remus didn't have the benefit of wearing makeup to hide his blush. "Sorry," he said sincerely, taking a quick step back.

The look on his face made her stomach clench. It was a joke balanced on the tip of her tongue, but she knew she couldn't say it.

"Let's move on," Remus said, regaining his composure. "How's your Patronus?"

Noemie groaned, stepping back to lean on a desk again. "Do we have to do that one?" She asked. "When am I ever going to encounter a dementor?"

"Maybe never," he agreed, hopping on to a desk again. "But the whole point of defense is to be prepared for anything."

"I'm more likely to make it as a professional quidditch player," she argued.

"That is likely," Remus said.

"Not if my father has anything to say about it," she muttered in spite of herself.

"Wouldn't he be proud?" Remus asked.

"I—of course, he just—wants—"

"Well, what do you want?"

Noemie just stared at him. She never gave thought to what she wanted, because it would make her even more desperate and depressed than she already was.

"Noemie?"

"Let's just—let's just try the Patronus," she mumbled, straightening up and pointing her wand in front of her.

While some of their classmates, Remus included, had amazed everyone with their corporeal patronuses, Noemie had never produced so much as a silvery wisp.

She closed her eyes, trying to think of a happy memory. Flying hadn't worked, playing games with Benji hadn't worked, and early Christmases hadn't worked either. This time, she tried to think of lunch with Frank and Alice, the way her friends laughed and looked at each other.

She whispered the spell and opened her eyes hopefully.

There was nothing.

Frustrated tears fell on her cheeks and she wiped them away angrily.

Remus jumped to his feet, approaching her without a second thought.

Noemie wiped at her tears again to get rid of them, wondering if they could just pretend the whole thing had never happened. But when she wiped her tears the second time, Remus's face changed.

Noemie couldn't really describe it. At first, he'd had a similar expression to Frank's concern. A bit of that was still present, but mixed with other emotions she couldn't comprehend.

While his palm was soft, his fingers were almost calloused. And yet, he was gentle when he took her face and turned it slightly.

It was only then that Noemie understood what had happened.

"Quidditch accident," she lied before Remus could ask.

"James didn't say anything about you getting hurt," he said, examining the mark closely.

Noemie wanted to pull away. Or rather, she knew she should pull away, but simply couldn't. "James doesn't tell you every time I catch a bludger."

Remus's hazel eyes continued to scan the bruise. "James would have healed this if it was a quidditch accident."

"Okay, fine," she conceded. "I tripped up the stairs."

"Then why didn't you just say that?" Remus asked.

"Because it's embarrassing," she replied.

"Why didn't you get it healed?"

"And admit to someone that I tripped walking up the stairs? I didn't need that level of embarrassment, Remus," Noemie explained.

"This looks bad," Remus observed. You must have fallen pretty hard."

Noemie remembered the exact punch that caused the bruise. "Well," she said slowly, pulling away from him. "I'm fine now."

"Are you sure?"

The look in his eyes made her want to tell him everything. But if Remus found out and blamed her like her father did, the blow would be too crushing. And if she told anyone, it was Benji who would face punishment.

So she gave a small nod. "I'm sure."

The lie was sour on her lips, and a part of her wanted to cry again. But that would surely confirm for Remus that she was lying, and who wanted to hang around a liar?

"I should get back to the common room," she said. "I have to meet Alice."

"Alright," he agreed reluctantly. "I… guess I'll see you at dinner."

"Sure," Noemie said, walking out of the room and not paying attention to what he'd said. She kept her head down on the walk back, and quickly went up to her dormitory so she could reapply makeup.

She couldn't have anyone else seeing the bruise. Remus shouldn't have seen it, and she knew he was going to tell James about it. Not only that, but he would surely tell James that she'd lied about it. That was worse. James would get suspicious again, and then he would be hovering over her like he had in September. Hovering made sneaking away to meet her father more difficult, which resulted in her being late, which of course resulted in harsher punishments.

Noemie took a soft, shaking breath as she leaned against the sink once again. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how she could have been so careless as to not heal a visible bruise. Noemie was a lot of things, but she wasn't stupid. She should have foreseen the risks and stopped it in advance.

She realized rather quickly that she was crying again. She had five more years of this to live through. She'd been convinced, at the start of the year, that she would handle it, for Benji's sake. But she was barely a month into the school year, and she was already starting to fall apart.

Noemie's grip on the porcelain sink slackened as she realized that she would inevitably fail. Benji would have to face the wrath of her parents, and she'd gone through all of this for nothing.

An owl pecked at the bathroom window, distracting her from her spiral.

Noemie stared at it for a moment before standing up and cautiously opening the window. The owl settled on the sill, looking expectantly at her. The parchment attached to its leg had her name on it.

More importantly, it had her name on it written in her father's handwriting.