Chapter 7: The Hogsmeade Romance Novel Book Club

[Given the glacial speed at which this story has progressed so far, I feel the need to pick it up a little or it'll never get finished.]

A few weeks later, I went to the Hogsmeade Romance Novel Book Club for the first time. On this particular evening, we were discussing Ill Met by Moonlight, a historical vampire romance, which I'm pretty sure was written by a disgruntled Mina x Dracula shipper. We were gathered in the Hogsmeade Library, which unlike the Hogwarts library was a very cozy and pleasant place to hang out and talk about books. The heroine, Marina, has the choice of three suitors—a human named Charles and two vampires, Evander and Dorian.

"I still think she should have stayed with Charles," said Pomona. "There's a lot to be said for a man who doesn't want to eat you."

"Ah, but is there anything else to be said for him?" said Rosmerta. "Evander was so much more compelling. And they seemed to fit together, personality wise."

"What do you think, Ophelia?" asked Minerva.

"Well," I said, clasping my hands around my knees (I was sitting in the window seat). "I was really rooting for Dorian until he turned out to be a good vampire after all. I mean, the whole 'he's not evil, he's just misunderstood' thing is great as far as it goes, but…I don't know, there's just something in me that wants to see the heroine commit and go over to the dark side and it still be a bangin' good time."

This created a ripple of surprised laughter. McGonagall looked a little concerned—at least as concerned as you can look when you're three margaritas in.

"I'd like that," said Rosmerta.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," I said. "In real life, of course I'd prefer the 'secretly good all along' option."

"It definitely wasn't as good as Enchanted Encounters," said Pomona, examining the cover thoughtfully. It was nearly identical to the Enchanted Encounters cover, at least as far as the posing went, except obviously with more sensual neck-biting. Because what else are we here for?

"I don't know about that," said McGonagall. "I quite enjoyed the love scenes in this one."

Now it was my turn to stare.

"That's true, they were much better," agreed Madam Puddifoot. "Much more poetic. And detailed."

I caught Rosmerta's eye, and we burst into helpless giggles.

"So," said Madam Puddifoot, mischievously, "If you had to date a magical being, which would it be?"

"Well, we all know what Rosmerta's answer would be," said one of the girls who also worked at the Three Broomsticks.

Rosmerta laughed good-naturedly. "Oh yes, I'd say a centaur's a vast improvement over a vampire."

"I think I'd quite like a vampire," said Poppy. "I'd never have to bother about healing him since he's already dead."

"What about you, Ophelia?" asked Rosmerta.

I considered. "I don't know. There are so many. Definitely not a vampire. The whole being dead thing just doesn't sound very cozy." I always put way too much thought into these questions. And the truth was, I didn't really want some fantastic creature—I wanted a flesh and blood man. One flesh and blood man in particular. I think I made some comment about maybe a merman, and they teased me about the impracticable nature of a merman as a lover. I laughed. "I don't know. From what I've heard they always seem to manage."

Eventually, the meeting broke up. I was supposed to walk back with Rosmerta, but she had to leave early to see to things in the pub. I lingered outside the door, waiting for Poppy and McGonagall to emerge so I could walk back to the castle with them. Still, it was nice to have a quiet moment after being crowded in that stuffy, loud room. I breathed in the chilly Scottish air gratefully. Then I saw Remus walking up the other side of the street.

"Remus!" I called, waving.

He crossed the street. "I was just getting a few last-minute supplies from Dervish and Banges," he said, gesturing to the parcels under his arms. "And then of course I had to stop by Honeydukes." He glanced up at the very frilly sign for Madam Puddifoots, which is mostly known as the designated date spot in Hogsmeade. "What, uh, brings you to this establishment?"

"Romance novel book club," I said, laughing awkwardly.

"Ah," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Time for some Enchanted Encounters?"

I laughed. "Ill Met By Moonlight, actually."

"Oh, that one's not as good," he said. He glanced up at the sky, which was cloudy as usual. "Not much moonlight tonight."

A chill wind blew down the street. I wrapped my coat more firmly around me.

"So, are you, uh, headed back up to the castle?" he asked, adjusting his parcels.

"I was thinking about stopping at the Three Broomsticks first," I said. Then, realizing the opportunity that was upon me, I said, "Do you, uh, want to come and get a drink with me?" The second part came out in a nearly unintelligible rush.

There was a pause that seemed to last about ten thousand years, but was probably only a second or two as I looked anxiously up at him and tried to look casual and not like I'd been daydreaming about this for weeks.

Then he smiled and said, "If you let me buy."

My shoulders sagged with relief. "Well," I said, and found I couldn't stop smiling. "If you insist."

We walked across the enchanting, picturesque cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade under the flickering lamplight. "Wait," I said. "You've read Fifi LaFolle?"

He chuckled. "There was one summer—I was about sixteen. I got stuck with my maiden great-aunt out in Yorkshire. Only books she had in the house were Fifi LaFolle. The complete works. It was quite an education."

I giggled. "I bet it was."

We had reached the doors of the Three Broomsticks. I held the door open for him, since his hands were full of packages. We sat down at the bar.

"At first of course I thought it was all very silly," he said, setting his packages on the counter. "It all seemed so impossible and remote. But then—I was surprised by how many of them were about…monsters. And I felt, well, like I could—that is to say…I could see myself more in the monsters." He looked down at the tabletop. Then he looked back up at me. "Why do women like stories about falling in love with monsters so much?" On the surface, the words seemed light and joking, but there was a strange intensity in his eyes.

I thought about it. It was a topic I knew way too much about from the literary side of things. "Well, there are a lot of reasons," I said. I twisted my hands together nervously. "Do you—do you want the long explanation or the short explanation?"

"The long one," he said. "If you're comfortable telling me, that is."

I swallowed, and went on, "I think the main reason is that, when you're a woman, and you…desire someone, it can make you feel sort of…monstrous. Especially if you're not, well, conventionally beautiful, and especially if the person doesn't love you back."

He nodded, leaning forward, listening earnestly.

"Because when you're a woman, you're trained to think that wanting anything for yourself is bad," I said. "So there's this kind of kinship, between you and the monster." I said. "You can look at the monster and you understand them, a little. Falling in love with a monster—it provides this kind of transgressive space where you can be monstrous. You don't have to be this perfect ideal. Because whatever you are, it's enough. More than enough."

I was silent for a minute, staring at the pattern of the wood grain in the bar top, feeling as if I had just taken off all of my intellectual clothes. It was wretched. But having gone this far I might as well keep going. "There's the flip side, though. There aren't as many stories about men falling in love with monstrous women—I mean, there are tons of stories where men fall in love with a beautiful woman who's secretly some kind of monster, but there aren't many where men see the monster and think 'no. I don't care what you are. I love you. The nicer ones just abandon you. And some think that you deserve to die for deceiving them." I sighed. "There are exceptions, of course. But at least with the monsters you know what you're getting."

"I see," he said. Which is about all you can say when you've been treated to an essay length answer to your question.

I gave a small shrug. "Well, you said that you wanted the long version."

"Thank you for telling me," he said.

At that moment, Rosmerta, now manning the bar, came up to us. "Ophelia's been treating you to one of her essays, hasn't she?" she said with a grin.

"Only because I asked," he said. "It's been very illuminating."

"I'm sure," said Rosmerta. "Now what can I get you? We just got in three more casks of Farmer Maggott's glowcider."

"Ooh, nice," I said. "I'd like a pint of that."

"Same for me," said Remus.

Rosmerta gave me a knowing look and a thumbs up as he counted out the money, and sauntered off.

He put his hand to his chin thoughtfully. "I've never thought of it that way, but now that you've told me, it makes so much sense." He was silent for a moment. "Do you…ever feel that way? Like a monster?"

I took a breath, looking at his terrifying, beautiful, earnest face, and clasped my hands together because I was aching to hold him, to press my cheek against his and kiss him under his shadowed eyes. "Yes," I said. "Sometimes. I mean,"—I dropped my gaze— "Like I know, in my head, it's not really monstrous. It's just human. Women just aren't expected to be human. And so it's still…there."

"I'm sorry," he said. His forehead creased with concern. "Listen. I know I'm…a man,"

The apologetic, awkward way he said it made me laugh. "I'll take that under advisement."

"But—given my line of work, I've seen monsters. And I don't mean dragons or three-headed dogs or even basilisks. I've seen evil, terrible things. I've seen people become monsters." He held my gaze. "You are not a monster."

I exhaled softly. My chest ached with the relief of it. And yet there was still a tiny, treacherous part of me that whispered but you don't know. You can't see all of me. What if you're wrong?

"You don't have to just trust me," he said, as if he knew what I was thinking. "Do you really think a unicorn could look into your soul and trust you if you were a monster?"

I nodded and bit my lip. I had to believe it, had to hold on to it, let it fill me up. Like the Patronus charm. Then the rest of what he said registered.

"Oh, is that what they do?" I asked. "I'm glad you didn't tell me beforehand. I would have been a nervous wreck. I mean I was nervous anyway, but still." I shuddered. "Should I ask what they do if you don't pass the vibe check?"

"They'd just ignore you," he said. "They're very gentle creatures. Unless you try to hurt them, of course. Then they might impale you."

I grimaced. "Just gonna not think about that too much." I reflected on this new information. "I'm honestly not sure what's worse. Getting judged on the content of your soul or on your virginity."

At this moment, of course, Rosmerta chose to reappear with our glowcider. "Whose virginity?"

I buried my face in my hands. "We're just talking about unicorns."

"Oh, I've heard that one before," she said, grinning. "Let me know if you need anything else."

I looked over at Remus, who was pinching the bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

"Never gonna live that one down, am I?" he asked.

"Probably not," I said. I raised my glass towards his. "Well. Sláinte?"

"Sláinte," he replied, clinking his glass against mine. The cider cast a glowing rosy light on his face.

It tasted like an afternoon I'd spent in a little town over the summer watching the sunset from the little pub in a mountain village."Why did you want to know? About the monsters, I mean."

He set his glass down on the bar top. He looked strange. Almost…scared. "Sometimes I also…believe I'm a monster."

My heart went out to him. It sounds like a cliché, but that's what it felt like, like your bruised heart knew exactly where his was hurting, even if it didn't know exactly why or how or how much. He didn't say anything for a long time.

"Do you…want to talk about it?" I asked.

"I don't think…I can," he said.

I nodded. His shoulders sagged.

"I'm sorry," he said.

I don't know where I got the nerve to do it, except that I couldn't bear to let him ache there all alone. I reached out and touched him on the shoulder. It was a very awkward, tentative touch. "Remus."

He looked over at me, surprised, but not upset. "I…" I felt the thing I wanted to say very clearly, but the words eluded me. "You're not—I mean." They slipped away, like a wet bar of soap in the bath. "I've seen you. With the children, and with Hagrid, and the unicorns, and—oh God." I drew my hand back and ran it through my hair in hopes that it would awaken my stupid brain. "Like, I know—I don't know you as well as I would like to but like…you don't have to look hard to see the kindness in you."

His face twisted.

Had I said too much? Had I said it all wrong?

"I wish I could believe you," he said.

"Well, believe me," I said, growing bolder. "I don't know the things you know. I haven't seen the dark you've seen. But I've seen kindness. I've seen light enough to know it when I see it." It sounded like hubris, like tempting fate, like asking to be proven horrifically wrong. And yet, I felt a certainty that seemed to come from beyond myself, beyond my own self assurance and the failings of my own human knowledge.

And he too let out a little gasp, like he'd been released from a spell. If only for a moment. "I'll try," he said.