He first saw her again on Monday afternoon, which was the week's first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Unfortunately, the period was already due to have a guest.
Hermioned walked in with Ginny, clearly studiously looking anywhere but the front of the room, where he was perched against his desk - but, alas, she ended up catching his eye anyways as the girls made their way to their seats. The younger witch blinked hard, visibly flushing, and quickly ducked her head, mumbling an unintelligible response to whatever Ginny had asked her just before. The redhead, not yet noticing the change in her friend's demeanor, continued to chatter as Hermione slowly pulled her parchment, quill, and ink - Remus noticed that the latter was her favorite violet shade, a birthday gift from Molly and Arthur - from her olive-colored satchel. He felt his own cheeks burn, and hoped that his scars and facial hair obscured the fact to his students. As Hermione skimmed her front teeth over her bottom lip, Remus remembered what that peachy flesh tasted like against his own, and Merlin, he had to look away. He didn't like the trigger-thought he'd had immediately upon taking in that image: Again.
Almost as if on cue, a physical embodinment of his guilty conscience, Tonks walked in behind the last of the students, wearing a wide smile and a shock of royal blue hair - likely because, as he uneasily recalled, he'd told her it was a pretty color on her back before they had even begun doing…whatever their entanglement could presently be called. Remus smiled tightly and nodded at her, and Tonks made her way to the front of the classroom through the students seating themselves. "Hullo," she said, lowly, almost huskily, and he felt the blush creeping back up his cheeks. It must've tripled once he spied Hermione over Tonks' shoulder, staring at them.
"All right?" he replied, smiling a little more easily.
"Just here to sit in on my favorite professor," she responded with a small smirk. Remus swallowed. Though Tonks was speaking relatively quietly, Hermione, being in the front row, must've heard that - if not Ginny as well. Hermione looked down at the table, as if thinking…then slowly returned her gaze to Remus', still peeking at her from behind a shock of blue in the foreground.
"You don't have to just sit in. I meant it when I said I think you have a lot of knowledge and experience to impart on these students. Want to do a bit of questions and answers today?"
"I'd be honored, Professor." He winced imperceptibly. She was being far more flirtatious than he'd been hoping, and he could tell Hermione was noticing.
"Lovely. I'll get us started, then." Tonks nodded, but instead of sitting at one of the long tables, she instead plopped down behind Remus' desk, kicking her feet up on an adjacent parchment cabinet. Remus turned back to the class as they began to quiet down from their between-period prattle. "Students, you may have noticed we have a visitor today…"
After a short introduction - most, if not all, of the students easily recognized Tonks as a famous Auror who bravely fought in the Battle of Hogwarts - Tonks spoke of her time under the tutelage of Mad-Eye Moody, how she had become an Auror after finishing her education at Hogwarts, and how that had translated into a position with the Order of the Phoenix. A few of the students whose families had had ties to Voldemort, like Malfoy and Theo Nott, looked somewhat uncomfortable as Tonks had pointedly explained the kinds of tortures the side of good had weathered from the Death Eaters during their time in power. But most of the students listened to Tonks' stories raptly, and once the floor was opened to questions, none of them held back on their brimming curiosity. After all, they had a bona-fide war hero in their midst - one that was a little more exotic than their own Order of the Phoenix-allied professor, whom they'd had plenty of time to get used to since the school year started.
Remus felt guilty for it, but he let his mind wander while Tonks took easy control of the Q&A. He was determined not to look at Hermione, if only not to inadvertantly reveal the stormy contents of his thoughts. But he did let them drift, and in them he replayed, for the umpteenth time, the moments in front of the Mirror of Erised, the moments where everything fell together and then apart again. True to his personality, even his daydreams were deeply thoughtful, and he ruminated over and over on what his feelings for Hermione might really be. Even if Remus wanted to keep lying to himself - and, in truth, he was an impeccable liar when it came to falsehoods aimed at his own conscience - he knew from what Dumbledore had told him years before that the Mirror hadn't lied. It truly had shown him his heart's desire, and that was Hermione…along with a younger, less-afflicted him. He wondered when that had happened, when she had become the subject of his longing. He guessed it was both little by little, and all at once. Like falling asleep. Sometime over that summer, he'd started wanting her, her mind and her character and other things, too, that he dared not think on too often, and it hadn't gone away when he'd awoken from that sun-dappled dream and returned to Hogwarts.
When Remus had looked into the Mirror, his heart hadn't reached for glory or fortune or knowledge, but just the simple idea of this girl who sat mere feet away from him now, as determinedly looking away from him as he was doing with her. The idea of her, and being with her as a man, and not a monster.
But he was a monster. And she was his nineteen-year-old student. And it was impossible.
Once the questions had settled, Tonks kicked back again behind Remus' desk as he quickly recapped the homework he had assigned the previous week, and that he was about to collect. Remus began to walk through the rows of tables, picking up parchments and answering last-minute questions from the young witches and wizards before they left the classroom. Purposefully, he left Hermione and Ginny's front-of-room desk table for last.
As he approached, he heard the girls deep in quiet conversation; perhaps an extension of their chatter from before the period began. Ginny leaned over and nudged Hermione with her shoulder. "So, what did Ron say when he went to your dormitory?"
Remus' stomach somersaulted. Ron had been in her room?
From his vantage point behind the two witches, he could see neither Ginny nor Hermione's face, but he could almost hear the furious blush that must've crept onto Hermione's cheeks in her response. "Don't say it like that. Nothing happened."
"But he did go to your room?"
"Yes."
"And? Did you talk about the snog?" The what? Remus' mind spun.
"A little."
"Well?" He could sense the curiosity burning off of Ginny in hot waves. "What did you say? What did he say? Did he ask where you went on Saturday afterward?" The blood must've drained from his face at this point; he could almost feel his skin go pale. She'd snogged Ron before she had even kissed him on Saturday night? Was their kiss, to her, just another thing that had happened in a busy day, and not the brain-breaking event that he had experienced it to be?
"I told him I'm glad we kissed. Which is true. And I also said that we shouldn't rush anything…that we both have a lot to figure out this year already, even aside from…whatever that might be. Which is also true. He seemed disappointed, but understanding, shockingly." Hermione slipped her ink and quill into her satchel, getting ready to escape the classroom - and the conversation.
"Hmm. Understanding or not, my brother is not exactly a patient guy. Don't be surprised if he jumps you as soon as you get to The Burrow on Christmas break," Ginny mused, giggling. Hermione sighed.
Remus cleared his throat as he approached Ginny's side from the table behind them, letting them know that he was present. "Ladies, your parchments?"
Both girls slid their parchment rolls over to him, Hermione trying not to meet his eyes and flushed red across her freckled cheeks. Ginny, oblivious, looked up right at Lupin. "This one wasn't easy," she observed.
Remus smiled at her as best he could. "I daresay your compatriot here would be able to give you some assistance in this topic."
Ginny jerked her head toward Hermione, who seemed to be trying to shrink inwards into herself. "Her? I would've asked, but she's been a little, um…" Ginny chuckled. "Busy."
"It sounds like it," Remus replied, quietly, not able to hold himself back.
This comment prompted Hermione to finally look up at him to meet his eyes, amber brown mingling with springtime green. "It sounds like we've all been busy lately, hmm?" Hermione muttered. Her gaze flicked over to Tonks, who was now perusing some of the spellbooks in an oak bookcase to the side of the room.
Ginny tilted her head, finally looking over to Hermione and back at Lupin, sensing a strange energy between them but having no context to explain it. "Is everything…?"
"C'mon, Gin," Hermione interjected quickly, standing from her seat. "You'll be late for Quidditch practice." Remus tried to say something more, but at that very moment, he received a tap on the shoulder from one of the other Seventh Years, who had stayed after to ask a more in-depth question about the assignment. He turned to listen to her query - and when he turned back to Hermione after he'd responded, he found that the witch and her red-headed friend had already disappeared from the classroom.
"Ooh, look, Remus, one of the students left you something." He turned back to the desk just as Tonks plucked a - what was that? Bloody hell, he thought, as he realized that the offering was a green apple, round and ripe and enclosed with bright verdant flesh. There was no note, no other message or explanation, but he knew as well as anything that Hermione had somehow left this for him. How did she get another one? he thought, considering that they hadn't been back to the orchard in weeks now. Perhaps she'd transfigured it somehow. It didn't matter - just the sight of it made his stomach twist, remembering Hermione's faraway look as she described the insistent tartness of the fruit as her cheeks pinked with unknown wanting. Before he could say anything, Tonks brought the apple to her lips and took a bite.
As Tonks looked up at him from under her eyelashes, a droplet of apple juice escaping the corner of her mouth and rolling down her chin, Remus realized he could never do this again - whatever this was - with her. It wasn't kind to lead her on this way, certainly not anymore. Because it wasn't Tonks that he thought of as the younger Auror's tongue darted out of her mouth to lap up the escaping juice - it was Hermione, god, Hermione, how he wanted to press his own tongue against her flushed skin, how he wanted to wipe away the blood and cleanse her heart and keep her safe and happy and his for as long as he could bear his feelings for her. How he wanted to run his lips across that freckled honey of her flesh and plunge his fingers into that chaotic hair of hers, the color of rich chocolate shot through with gold in the sunshine. How he wanted to feel his body against her slighter frame, how their magic could interweave until they were indecipherable from each other, violet and forest green mixed into the color of a desperate bruise, until they could never again be pulled apart. God, how he wanted to be bruised by her. And, god, how he feared that he would bruise her back.
—
That night, Lupin laid in bed, expecting sleep would take its sweet time to overtake him. He tried his best to think of anything aside from Hermione. Tonks had, thankfully, been called away on business soon after DADA class ended, and so he had been spared from an awkward conversation with her about how they shouldn't sleep together anymore, a conversation in which he wouldn't have been able to tell her the true reason why. But he knew he was only delaying the inexorable discomfort - as with Hermione and Ginny's party a few weeks before, putting off ending things with Tonks would only make things more difficult for himself down the line. But, Remus noted with a sigh, he wasn't exactly known for his take-charge attitude. Avoiding the inevitable was par for the course for him.
He didn't know when he'd finally drifted off, but he had - and he was floating in a pleasant blackness until he once again felt that tugging feeling, such a strange sensation in the midst of unconsciousness; like something was pulling at the sleepy tendrils of his mind itself and beckoning him through dark and unexplainable space. He was almost aware of what was about to happen, enough to think something along the lines of Oh, no…and then he emerged from the shadows of his sleeping mind into the hall outside of the Great Hall.
Remus looked around, seeing instantly that it was once again the night of the Battle. He heard screams in the far distance, and the smell of smoke invaded his senses along with a sick, coppery scent that he feared he would never be able to really forget from that night. He also saw the body of the poor woman that had been murdered in this spot, cast carelessly aside into the wall under a mangled portrait. Puddles of blood dotted the cobblestone floor. Remus carefully stepped around these as he tried to find some sense in this horror, uncertain if he really wanted to come across Hermione once again in this nightmare. He knew that it was likely she was around here somewhere, but considering it had been difficult enough that day to face her in the classroom, he couldn't imagine how awkward it would be to face her in their shared dream. But, if he didn't start moving, he felt that he might just go insane looking at the carnage around him, anxiously waiting to hear Voldemort's mocking voice once again echo through the castle. So, he wandered.
Inevitably, she was there, and it didn't take long at all to find her. This time, Hermione was sitting at the bottom of the Grand Staircase, holding her legs to her chest and sitting with her head buried in her knees. All he could see was a mess of brown hair and knit burgundy fabric. She hadn't heard him approach, it seemed, and so he stood there for several long moments, just trying to work up the courage to say something to her. "Her…Hermione?" His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. It hadn't exactly been the confident beginning he'd intended.
Hermione looked up at him, and he could see that she was wearing the tank top and shorts again, along with his cardigan pulled tightly over her shoulders. She looked tired, and sad, and something else that he couldn't quite place. "Hello, Professor."
He frowned. That address seemed quite formal, given their recent circumstances - But, he insisted to himself, isn't it for the better that she distances herself from you? That's what you wanted, after all. Isn't it? He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his loose pajama pants. "I didn't expect this to happen again."
"You didn't?" she responded, cocking her head.
"You did?" He countered.
"Well…yes, I suppose. Seems it's become a pattern, now." He noticed she was wearing socks this time, pulled halfway up her calves. That, along with the sweater, made him realize that she had been expecting this, in a way. Even despite going to bed alone in her own room, she had seemingly bundled up, in case they'd encounter one another again in the dreamscape - and so she wouldn't have to walk around barefoot anymore.
He shuffled on his own bare feet on the cold cobblestones, feeling exposed in his pajama pants and light henley, unbuttoned halfway down his chest. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the space on the lower step beside Hermione. She flicked her eyes to the bare stone next to her, and offered him a combined nod and a shrug, as if to say, Do what you like - I couldn't care less. Despite this chilly reception, he sat beside the younger witch, carefully leaving at least a foot of space between them.
In their shared semi-silence of distant screams, Remus considered what he could possibly say to Hermione next.
A/N: We're back to the dreamscape, friends! Let's see what this does for the awkwardness between Remus and Hermione - the rest of the dream will pick up next chapter in her perspective. Hope you enjoyed! Song lyrics used in the chapter title are from "Vital Vessels Vindicate", by The Dear Hunter.