Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter Eleven: This serious moonlight

Hermione stumbled from the office, the lump in her throat growing as large as a Bludger as she quickly made her way down the hall. She didn't understand why she was having such a visceral reaction to witnessing Lupin and Tonks snogging - after all, she'd heard enough while hidden in the Weasleys' shed during her birthday party to know they had before - but something about it this time made her stomach twist painfully. Lupin had now become privy to her dreams, which felt incredibly intimate, as there really couldn't be any more vulnerable position for her to be in. They had shared that space together just the night before. And now...now, he was snogging Tonks in his DADA office.

WHY is this BOTHERING me??? she screamed at herself, gritting her teeth against the hordes of students still making their way to their common rooms after the game. Hermione twisted her hourglass necklace between her fingers, trying to figure out what her destination should be. It didn't matter - just away, and quick as you please, thanks. The Gryffindor common room became the logical terminus.

As excited students came and went from the common room in mad preparation for the postgame party, Hermione elected to talk to no one, relieved that Ron was occupied regaling Neville with tales of his Auror training. Ron. That was a complication she hadn't expected. She'd figured he would visit sometime this year, but he'd made such a thing about coming for this first Quidditch game, and in his letter to her before his arrival it seemed clear he expected her to make a thing of it too. Every word he'd written, in fact, sagged heavily with expectation: "Can't wait to see you...we have so much to talk about...need to make up for lost time..." She wasn't prepared for having to turn down his romantic appeals so soon, and certainly not after what she'd been dealing with regarding Lupin and her dreams.

Lupin.

Hermione stared into the common room fireplace, burning the bright, merrily crackling flames into her retinas. She leaned back on the couch and listed a series of questions to herself, something she often did to try to logic things out.

Question: Who is it you're sharing dreams with, which Dr. Wendt says is a sign of your feeling safe with them?

Answer: Lupin.

Question: Who is it that makes your heart pound hard in your chest whenever you see them, hear about them, even think of them?

Answer: Lupin.

Question: Who is it you have no way in hell of being with, and would only be interested in you if that same hell froze over, anyway?

Answer: Lupin.

She knew, as always, that her answers were correct, but she desperately wished it wasn't so. Not really because she wished Lupin would fall in love with her - that was so beyond reality that it was laughable. No, what she wished was that she didn't feel this way at all, and certainly not for Professor Remus Lupin. That she could just grit her way through the nightmares until they, hopefully, eventually faded, and just finish out this year with only school on her mind. Maybe I'm just developing a dependence on him because of the dream thing, she tried to reason. That's all this is. Nothing romantic. Just weak, needy...bullshit.

You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? a particularly sarcastic Other Voice in her mind replied. If it was just neediness, would you be studying the way his hair falls into his eyes when he leans over your desk to look at your notes? Would you be cataloguing the smell of him every single time he was close enough to breathe in, and would the scent of cigarettes and cologne and parchment make heat stir at the base of your spine and creep up into your fingers and lips and every single inch of you until you had to steal away some time alone?