HOGWARTS GRAND OPENING BALL
Date: Saturday, 26 August
Time: 6:00 p.m. to Midnight
Place: Hogwarts Great Hall and Grounds
Characters Involved: Everyone! Don't forget to add your character's tag if you join the thread!
Rating: Hopefully not more than PG-13 - this is a public location, folks! Take your libidos 'home' for higher-rated stuff please! *grin*
( But first, before the dancing could begin, the Headmistress would address the crowd. )
Time: 6:00 p.m. to Midnight
Place: Hogwarts Great Hall and Grounds
Characters Involved: Everyone! Don't forget to add your character's tag if you join the thread!
Rating: Hopefully not more than PG-13 - this is a public location, folks! Take your libidos 'home' for higher-rated stuff please! *grin*
( But first, before the dancing could begin, the Headmistress would address the crowd. )
But the gentle trembling of her small hand clasped protectively now in his own told a different tale.
The hair, the make-up, the fancy dress, the little girl he remembered was playing dress-up, pretending to be stronger than she felt at this moment. He wouldn't even think the phrase 'stronger than she was', for, Remus knew Hermione, knew her strength and admired it. Still, there was a quick flash of sadness in those large brown eyes before her protective shutters came down.
He didn't know what had happened to make her close herself off, to paint this illusory smile across her face. He had not seen her since the birthday party, when she had seemed harried, but still his strong Hermione. Yet, it didn't matter. If he could find a way to ease whatever burden she carried, Remus was more than happy to try.
It was the fear slowly filling the eyes which usually shone with compassion and which now regarded him warily that convinced him it would be better to put her at ease first and pry into the reason for her distress second. That Hermione felt there was any reason to gaze upon him in such a manner, after all they had been through together these past years, hurt him, yes. It was a pain he was familiar with and could ignore. He wondered, however, exactly how much of it was directed at him and how much at whatever demons she was fleeing.
Bowing shallowly over the hand he still held in his, he smiled softly, gentle brown eyes meeting frightened ones in a look designed to relax this strange nervousness he wasn't used to sensing from Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age.
"It's good to see you, Hermione. I was just thinking it was a shame there were no pretty, intelligent young witches here to dance with an old werewolf. Yet here you are, if you would be so kind as to do me the honor of sharing this first dance?"
So, maybe Myron and Severus had a point about the Knight in Shining Armor complex.
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She wanted to close down, hurt him like the others so he'd stop looking at her with those trusting and warm eyes. Remus didn't know what she'd done and that she didn't deserve his kindness, she'd given up that right and he didn't even know. The fear in her eyes wasn't for him, she was scared of herself more than anything, that she'd even considered hurting the man she respected and admired above all others.
That smile, she didn't deserve that smile. But what was she supposed to say 'I can't stay because I told Harry he was just like Voldemort because I wanted to hurt him'? No. She was too ashamed of herself to ever admit it to him.
"It-" Hermione had to stop to blink back the tears that suddenly filled her eyes. Giving a slow nod, she gave his hand a squeeze. He had to know the way she was acting was unrelated to him, that all of these things were just happening in her head. If only he knew, she didn't deserve a dance with one of her oldest and dearest friends.
She couldn’t dance with him; she couldn’t risk hurting him because he’d never deserved that. But his offer, the offer to be allowed to stand alongside of him and lean on him only for a few minutes, it was too tempting and she was much too weak. Hermione felt her knees shake, her legs deciding if they wanted to give out or not.
Tears still threatened to fall as she moved them towards the main crowd but away from the bulk of the people that were dancing, to give them some space. And even though her mind was screaming at her that this was wrong and that she didn’t need him, didn’t need any of them and should just go home, her heart won out as she looked up to meet his warm brown eyes, her own still brimmed with tears. "You're not old, Remus." She said as her throat cleared enough for her to finally speak.
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The crystal tears welling up within her wide brown eyes wrenched at his heart. It was not often that he'd seen Hermione this close to losing control. He could only imagine what sort of hurt had wounded her to cause this.
But, Remus had his own recent experience with being emotionally out of control and, while he did not know the specifics of her situation, he knew how much the quiet (and not so quiet in Severus' case) support of the people around him had helped. He, himself, wasn't completely back to his old self, but he felt more than able to offer his dear friend that same support now.
So, if the arm which slipped about her waist offered more than the supportive guidance for leading a dance, or if the warm hand which took hers squeezed a gentle reassurance before the steps of the damce began...well, those comforts went unspoken, though were still offered.
"I may not be old," he chuckled, keeping the conversation light until he could feel her relax a bit more. "But I certainly feel it after the afternoon I've had. Someone had perhaps better warn Bill he's married quite the persuasive young woman to have convinced yours truly into helping her out in a kissing booth for this event."
In truth, Remus was more than supremely embarrassed over the entire thing. Fleur and June and seemed to think the entire idea a lark. But they were not the ones confronted with the reality of having former students and other young ladies half their age pay for the dubious honor of their kiss!
Still, embarrassed as he was, Remus hoped the idea might bring some cheer to the somber face of his dancing partner.
"Trust me, the idea is not at all as glamorous as it sounds."
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Settling her hand on his shoulder, she watched how her hand settled perfectly where neck met shoulder before she moved it out to sit on the broader part of his shoulder.
Even though she felt awful, a smile did manage to curl her mouth as she pictured him in a kissing booth. “I can’t believe I missed it. A kiss from an eligible Professor? You must have been extremely popular.” June and Fleur must really have been extremely persuasive to get Remus into a kissing booth, of all things.
“I would have quite liked a kiss or two.” Hermione teased him as more of a distraction for herself than to get a rise out of him.
He was trying to make her feel better and he was probably the only person she’d allow to even speak to her at this point. Anyone else, she’d have just pushed them away and left, but he deserved better.
It almost hurt that he was so kind, after what she’d done. After the people she’d hurt.
Your blood is dirty and it's tainted.
After the people that had hurt her.
I'll make you scream.
Bitting the inside of her cheek, she could see him, blonde hair and charm, wand pointed at her face. Hermione shrank away from him, even if it was only for a split second. Who was she fooling? No one. What had made her believe that anything could ever be alright again?
“Remus, thank you, but… I should go.” She’d come, she’d seen the school, heard the plans and now the desire to run was burning through her system.
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"There's one," he teased with a tiny wink. "If you come by the booth tomorrow and say hello, I might be persuaded to give you another for the other cheek."
The easy playfulness left his mood, however, when she tried to pull away. His arm tightened almost imperceptively around her waist to keep her from fleeing the dance floor, even as he slowed their steps to a stop and released her hand to tuck one finger gently under her chin.
"Don't," he said quietly. "Don't pull away and shut me out, Hermione."
Taking both her hands in his larger ones, Remus willed the young woman before him to stay. Warm brown eyes full of concern sought hers as he tred to think of what to say, how to reassure her. For the moment, she seemed as timid as a butterfly, barely able to land for long before needed to be off, afraid to linger for fear of some unknown danger to such a fragile spirit.
"Talk to me, Hermione. Let me help, if I can? I don't know what's wrong, but you're obviously distressed over something. We don't have to dance, if you like. We can find a quiet spot to talk undisturbed, how's that?"
Releasing her hands, Remus offered her his arm once more. He wouldn't hesitate to follow her if she fled instead of taking him up on it. This change in what he thought of her as her natural confidence worried him more than he was going to admit aloud. Something told him that letting her go would only perpetuate whatever was bothering her.
But, for the moment, he was willing to give her the chance to come to him, meet half-way, and accept the borrowed strength he offered from his own emotional stores until she was once more capable of finding her own.
"Will you stay a little while longer, Hermione?"
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She’d never felt so transparent as the moment he looked into her, his fingers supporting her chin and holding her high.
Everyone kept telling her to stop pushing them out, but it was for their own good. Who did he think he was? That he could be the saviour to all her problems? That he could bring them back? Or make it better? He was part of the problem. But the fight was gone the moment she looked into his eyes. Hermione felt limp and weaker than ever before.
But her mind was still screaming at her; run, run, run, RUN.
Taking a quick step away, she took another, putting distance between herself and the warmth. Hermione continued the retreat, but only another few steps. This… This was running away. What would happen if everyone ran away when things got hard? They’d all probably be dead. Remus and his pack, they were strong and they had it so much harder than she did.
Stepping forward she reached for his hand, his hands so much larger than hers as she held it tight. Looking up at him, she managed a shaky smile.
“I’ll stay, Remus.” It was hard and it took more than she’d thought she had, but she leant against him, pressing her cheek against his arm.
Hermione suddenly became aware of how many people there was, some looking at her with odd looks and others looking at him with somewhat dazed looks in their eyes. “Could we go somewhere else? I mean, I want the chance to make all of those woman gazing at you feel extremely jealous.”
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How many might have purchased those dratted day-dreams from the Weasley Twins?!?!
"Of course, they're jealous. Not a one of them can hold a candle to the young woman on my arm." So saying, he tucked her hand back into the crook of his arm with another gentle squeeze and led her off the dance floor and toward a side door across the Hall.
He took it as a good sign that she had come to him willingly. It meant that whatever was bothering her, some part of her knew she needed to rely on others occassionally. For a moment, as she'd backed away from him, he'd been afraid she would, indeed, turn and run from him. Though he intended to follow, he had no idea what he would have been able to say to her had that been the case.
He only hoped he really would be able to help in some way. Remus hated feeling useless when someone he cared about was in need aboce pretty much anything else.
Trying to ignore the stares of those around them, now that he'd been made aware of them, he steered her through the door to the small antechamber where first years waited anxiously each year before being led through the Great Hall for sorting. He wondered, briefly, if that same tradition would now be observed for fifth years. It seemed wrong, somehow, even though he could understand Minerva's purpose in making the change.
"Now," The conjuring of a padded bench along the nearest wall with a flick of his wand followed the casting of a quick privacy ward, before Remus led Hermione over to it and took a seat alongside her. He kept her hand clasped protectively between his own, as though by enfolding it in his hands, he could somehow shield her from the pain he saw in her eyes. "No one will be able to overhear. It's just you and me and you can tell me as little or as much as you feel comfortable with.
"So, what's troubling you, Hermione? You don't seem quite yourself tonight. Is there anything I can do? I'm always here for you if you need anything. You know that, right?"
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"That's very sweet, although I don't think this dress is very... Me." Hermione admitted as she smoothed her side with her spare hand. The lewd looks she was getting from drunken and not so drunken guests was enough to ensure she'd rethink her attire in future.
She trusted him more than she trusted herself at this stage, letting out a soft exhale as they sat down.
"I moved out of The Phoenix." Hermione admitted as she wrung her hands.
It was so much more complicated then that but it seemed like an ideal starting point. And like he said, it was just them and she did feel protected by the hands wrapped warmly around her own.
She wanted to tell him she didn't belong there, she didn't belong here but he'd surely just argue. "I don't feel like myself anymore... They... The things I said... The things they said to me..." Hermione felt tears in her eyes again, so much weakness.
He’d threatened her and that hadn’t bothered her, but she knew The Phoenix wouldn’t be home again, not while things were as they were.
Hermione felt a few tears slip down her cheeks and hurriedly brushed them away, she knew things would never be the same and she knew how much she’d ruined. “People keep dying, Remus… Pretty soon… There won’t be anyone left.” Hermione hung her head, embarrassed by the show of emotions and even more so by the actions that caused them.
The make-up stayed in place, charmed not to run or smear, even as tears continued to run. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry about this, I didn’t want to be like this in front of you, in front of anyone…”
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"If you can't have a moment's vulnerability with your friends, who can you, hm? It's all right to cry if you need to."
Holding her that way, tucked protectively against his side, he tried to make his tone of voice soothing, even if he did not yet know precisely the right words of comfort. A wayward lock of her hair was tucked tenderly behind her ear as he tried to look down at her without dislodging her from the impromptu hug.
"Now, tell me, who are they? Who's dying?" The only death he knew of had been the disappearance of that young man Greyback had marked at the Full Moon. He was sure if one of the Order had been lost, he or Severus would have heard. But, maybe it was the greater scheme of things that worried his young companion now?
Could 'they' be Harry and Ron? Had something happened to Harry? The young man seemed well enough a few days before when he was laughing at Remus' distress via their journals. Choking on pillow feathers indeed. Maybe something had happened after? Were Ron or Harry hurt?
Questions such as these were not going to be answered in his own mind of course. Hermione was the only one who could answer them -- Although, Remus made a note to eyeball the rest of the gathered ball goers this evening to see if he could catch a glimpse of either young man.
But for now, he focused on Hermione and her distress with the quiet, thoughtful intensity Lily had once told him was the reason he made such a good prefect, despite the lapses in discipline.
"Why have you moved out of The Phoenix? Where are you staying now?"
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He was so sweet, to put up with all these youngsters that couldn't seem to cope. Angling her head she looked up at him. "She died, Remus..." The words were soft, trying to force them out of her throat. "She died and I wasn't there." Hermione's eyes filled with tears again as she fought not to burry her face in his robes. "My mum's mum... She'd... She's... And I... And now..." Her sentenced were broken as tears flowed more freely now, Hermione just couldn't seem to hold them back.
Her heart hurt, heavy with loss and misery. "And I didn't write back, when they wrote me... Because I... I was responsible for them loosing their daughter. Mum... Mum and dad are gone..." She sobbed, feeling her bare shoulders shake in his arms. "They're dead and I don't know what to do..."
Hermione closed her eyes, she didn't deserve this, she knew it. His kind words, his arms holding her close.
"I... I had to... I... I moved home and..." This was her ultimate shame, how could she have done this? "I don't know what came over me... I hurt Harry and I hurt Ron and Draco... And then I." Looking away from him, she took in a deep shaking breath. "I threw everything away." Her voice was barely a whisper as she focused her eyes on the ground. "The furniture, the photos, the books, the clothes... Everything, everything they'd held dear. What sort of person does that?" She wasn't a person; she'd given up that right when she'd burnt her parents wedding photos.
There was so much shame, more so than any anger that had ever existed. Hermione clung to him, because he was something to hold onto, the only person she had that could keep her on the ground. He’d always understood, when Hermione had met him he’d helped her more than he’d ever realize and now even if she didn’t deserve it she could do nothing but hold him tightly. “What have I done?”
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Remus was well acquainted with this sort of pain and grief. How often in the past had it been he who was huddled down, trying to remain steady while it felt like the world was crumbiling out from under him and he was powerless to stop it. He knew the guilt that came with that loss as well. He'd felt it when his own parents had been murdered, when the rage had subsided and he'd found himself standing over Peter's cooling body, and again just a couple months ago when he'd learned of his own role in Morna's death and torture.
Yes, Remus Lupin understood grief and guilt, pain and loss.
At the moment, he desperately wished the young woman quaking in his arms could have been spared such knowledge.
"You've suffered a terrible loss. You're hurt and grieving. You'll find your feet again. But you can't hate yourself for any of it, Hermione. It'll only eat you up inside."
He'd thought such conversations had passed out of his life with the first war, when it seemed as if everyone he knew was losing someone on a daily basis. The thought flashed in his mind that this must have been how James had felt trying to comfort the angry, grieving young man Remus had been twenty-one years ago. But, he had to admit, his own experience told him time would be the only thing to truly help Hermione heal, though Remus would do whatever he could to speed that process along.
"Harry understands, I'm sure. He's lost his own parents. It's not the same because he never really knew them. But, I'm sure he understands.
"I never touched my own parents things, you know. Harry's father helped me sort through some of Dad's paperwork after they were killed, hoping to find some reason for it other than simply my involvement with Dumbledore. But after that, we cast a preservation spell on everything inthe house so that it wouldn't wither with time, locked the croft door, and I've never set foot there since. I visit the graves occassionally. But I've not set foot inside their house in over twenty years."
Remus tucked a finger under her chin, gently urging her to look back up at him.
"We all grieve in different ways, Hermione. Anger is often a part of that and can make us do things we later regret. But, it doesn't make you a bad person. Not at all."
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Hermione had always felt a connection to him, from when they met on the train and as things between them had progressed. And now when she needed someone, he was the fatherly support she’d not find anywhere else.
“I was so angry… You don’t understand. I told Harry that… I told him… I can’t even repeat it.” Hermione could still see the look in his eyes, when she’d… How could she tell him he was anything like Voldemort? When she knew, she knew how afraid of that he was.
His story was so similar to her own, if nothing had happened to her grandmother she’d probably have never have gone back and the house would have remained intact and still resembling a life that once was.
Raising her face as he urged it up, she met warm brown eyes. “And I can’t go home now… Because…” Draco had threatened her and although she wasn’t scared of him… Well she was but no one else needed to know that. “After… With Harry… Draco came and… Oh gosh you can’t tell anyone.” Hermione’s eyes widened at the concept of speaking aloud what had happened.
He understood what had happened, with her parents, he understood how guilty she felt but he might not understand the other stuff. Hermione knew she had to dance around the issue of Harry and Draco being… Well… Together… But there were other things, what she’d said to Harry, Remus would never forgive her for that. It was going to be hard but right now, she needed support only he could give.
“But I am a bad person, I am… You have no idea.” Hermione tried to shake her head but stopped in favour of benefiting from the comfort in his eyes.
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"How can you ask that," he continued in a more gentle tone. "You stood by Harry when everyone else was blinded by the Ministry's cover-ups, believed him crazy. You went with him, helped him with his search, gave him your strength when he didn't even know he needed it."
Gathering her back close, Remus smoothed a hand over her hair, all the while wishing there was a way to spare her this self-doubt. How hypocritical was he? Preaching to her about lack of blame, when he still blamed his involvement with the Order for his own parents' deaths, when he still blamed himself for Morna's fate.
"You don't have to tell me what you don't want to, Hermione. But I promise you nothing you tell me goes beyond this room. You have my word."
His eyes softened with concern at the difficulty she was having in even telling him what was said. He knew he wouldn't pass judgement on her grief. He could not promise not to be dismayed at whatever it words had been spoken, action taken. But Remus understood grief, he understood the anger that caused one to lash out in pain, hurt before you can be hurt again.
It was the story of his life.
It didn't have to be hers.
"What you will not have is the experience of ever hearing me agree that you are a bad person. You are not. Having said the wrong thing, or taken the wrong action, does not make you a bad person."
Good Heavens, how could he not forgive her whatever sorrow-charged offense she feared to speak after all he had already forgiven Severus?
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She should have been able to stand strong by him, she knew he needed her, he’d said he needed her and she’d just turned her back. Dragging herself from his embrace, she shifted down the bench, he had to no realize she didn’t deserve his comfort.
But now she’d started talking and she couldn’t stop. “And then he left. He must have gone straight home and told Draco because it wasn’t long before he was there.” Hermione’s eyes watered as she looked back up at him. “And I didn’t want to fight anymore, but… He threatened me and I know I deserved it and he told me I was nothing, just a mudblood and I know I deserved it… But I snapped…” Hermione cringed, looking away again as she thought back over the event.
“I threatened him back, I don’t know what I was thinking and it was all talk, because I’d never hurt him, I’d never hurt Harry. And we argued and I said things I shouldn’t have but then his wand was out and… I knew I deserved it and I was so sure he was going to… I was so sure he’d do the things he said he would… And I… I didn’t even flinch because I deserved it…”
I'm not a killer, but you have no idea what I've learned over the years, what I'm capable of.
“All I wanted was for it to stop hurting. All I’ve ever wanted was for it to stop. And that’s no excuse for what I said, but now… I don’t know what I’m doing. What point is there? I didn’t even finished school, Remus.” Hermione just wanted to slip to the floor and stay there, stop it hurting.
She’d so easily shut down and she could do it again, she knew she could. “Fight or flight, you know? And my body is screaming at me to fight, because if I hurt you, you’ll stop looking at me like that, you’ll stop understanding and it’ll stop hurting.” Placing her head in her hands, she crumpled slowly into herself. “Because it hurts, it hurts so much.”
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When Hermione ducked her head and hid from his gaze, Remus took a moment to close his eyes in resignation. He knew Harry well enough to know how well that wouldn't have gone over with the young man. In fact, he was rather certain Harry had not dealt with it well at all. Not that Remus could blame him, really.
But, Remus could also understand that need to lash out.
He did not try to keep Hermione from pulling away. He wouldn't push if she needed a bit of space. But he did leave his own seat on the bench so that he could squat in front of her, taking her hands in his as he did so.
"Hermione, listen to me." Warm brown eyes sought dark distressed ones, offering reassurances where he wasn't sure there were any. "You said what you did out of anger, grief. It's natural to lash out at those we love in this sort of situation. Deep down, we know they'll still love us. After we apologize, of course."
The rueful smile he would have offered along with words and confort froze at the description of her conversation with Draco. The stab of disappointment he felt in Draco was swift and sharp. After sharing housing with the pack and the tenuous friendships with Zak and June, even Remus, he had thought that perhaps Draco had begun to move away from the old prejudices -- he'd moved in with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, after all!
It seemed he was wrong.
"No matter what you said, or how wrong you were in saying it, you did not deserve that. Do you understand me? You are not nothing. You are a bright, intelligent young woman."
As she seemed to collapse in upon herself, Remus reached up to brush a gentle hand over the back of her head, being what he could reach. His brow furrowed somewhat at hearing her talk in such a way. She seemed so lost and he only wished he had some way of helping her to find herself again.
"I know it hurts. Unfortunately, only time can make it stop and even then not completely. But, it's never pointless, Hermione. So you haven't finished school? You're still the brightest witch of your age." He smiled softly, hoping the old reference might bring a smile to her otherwise forlorn expression. "There are still plenty of options open to you."
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Draco and her had gotten along so well, they'd bonded and drank and hugged and... They'd gotten on so well. "He threatened to torture me, to make me scream." He'd scared her, he still scared her. "And I... I believed every word." Hermione wasn't the type to be taken into something fraudulent, but the look in his eyes, she'd been frightened.
Hermione leant her cheek against the back of his hand, getting a hold on the tears for the moment, at least. "Remus I'm so lost." She sighed as she steadied her breathing. "I worked at a bookstore and the owner... He thought I'd sleep with him, for extra money.” Hermione shook her head, the memory still disgusted her. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Miss Granger.” Hermione mimicked, in a way that wasn’t funny, not in the slightest. “If you need extra money? I’d like to help, if you wanted to help me in return…” The thought made her angry more than anything else. “Brightest witch of my age." She'd felt cheap and useless, like she'd given him that sort of idea.
“Here I am and it's all hurting and I'm feeling so lost and gosh, what am I doing?" Hermione wanted to pull at her hair, break down and cry again.
Hermione pushed his hair back from his face, letting out a long hiss of air before she did the same thing to herself, pushing the hair back from her eyes. "There are no options for me, Remus. There just aren't." The strands instantly fell back into her face as she gripped his hands again. Hermione just wanted him to make it better, even if it wasn’t his job or his responsibility.
But he was so good to have even bloody well listened for this long, for not leaving the instant she’d admitted what had happened.
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