Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter Nine: Redemption lies in truth

Hermione ended up in a session with Dr. Wendt much sooner than she had anticipated. She'd been started on the path the morning after her first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson - after breakfast, when she had a rare break in her schedule, McGonagall strode up to her in the hall outside of the Gryffindor Common Room and cleared her throat. "Yes, Professor?" Hermione enquired, expectantly.

"Miss Granger - I'm rather hoping that you'll be meeting our Dr. Wendt soon."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It seems the students have been a bit...tentative, when it comes to making appointments with her. I think that if they saw that you were embracing it, they may feel more emboldened."

"Why me?" Hermione asked, genuinely confused.

"Because many of them look up to you," responded McGonagall, nodding her head slightly. "You have a certain amount of respect. Even not being Head Girl..." The older woman trailed off, eyeing Hermione.

"That was a choice..."

"And this is a request. Would you do this? For me?"

Hermione took a breath. "Yes, of course, Professor."

McGonagall smiled, and again to Hermione's surprise, briskly clasped a hand over hers'. She squeezed, and then pulled away, just as quickly as she had moved. Hermione gazed at her, thoughtfully, as she walked away back down the corridor. There had been a certain naked sadness in McGonagall's eyes that Hermione had never seen there before. She wondered if maybe it had always been there, and she just hadn't ever understood it enough before to realize. But it was there now, sadness falling lightly over the woman like the last crisp leaf off an autumn tree. It made her heart break. And it made her worry that the same sort of sadness would be her own destiny.

And so that's how she found herself in the waiting area outside of Dr. Wendt's office, which was stationed near the Hospital Wing. The waiting area was quite pleasant - homey, with a crackling fire in the hearth and a couple of soft poufs to sit on. The door to Wendt's office was closed, though she heard some quiet talking coming from inside, so Hermione elected to sit on one of the poufs and wait until she came out. She stared into the flames of the fireplace for about twenty minutes, watching them snap and pop against the glowing embers. Her mind drifted to the nightmare, to Lupin, to his hands cradling her foot and his uncertain, soft green eyes gazing up at her from bended knee. Her stomach twisted as the scent of the burning fire curled in her nostrils, pricking them and reminding her of the smell of cigarette smoke on summer wind. Burning parchment in winter. Cold and hot mixed all together, the same as her chest felt when she let her mind wander to the thought of the scar that slashed across Lupin's tiredly handsome face. She wondered what it would feel like to graze it with her fingertips. She wondered if he'd hold her hand there, if she touched his cheek.

Hermione jumped as the door to Wendt's office clicked open, not especially loudly or quickly but enough of an interruption into such secret thoughts that she blushed furiously in response. She saw Dr. Wendt stand beside the door to hold it open, as she smiled and said something quietly to whoever was in the room. Wendt was about her height, petite, but had a heavy energy of intellect about her. Her heart lurched again when she saw the person who had been meeting with Wendt - none other than Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy spotted Hermione immediately and a look of shock cracked his usually smirking face. He swallowed, muttered something to Wendt, and swept out of the room quickly, not even acknowledging Hermione. That was for the best. If she could avoid Malfoy for the rest of the year, it would be better for everyone.

Wendt raised an eyebrow at Malfoy's hastily retreating figure and turned her gaze to Hermione. She smiled. "Hello, Miss Granger."

"You know who-" Hermione broke off. It still surprised her to be recognized, but she had to get used to it. It happened so often nowadays...she didn't know how Harry had done it all those years. It felt terribly intrusive.