Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter Fifteen: Your beauty never ever scared me

"...Was the apple from you?"

Hermione scuffed at the stair beneath them with one socked foot, ruminating over Lupin's question. She could feel the heat emanating off of his body, despite him - very carefully, she observed - sitting a foot's distance away from her. "Yes," she replied, quietly.

"Can I ask why?"

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. She had ironically found the remaining apple from the Weasleys' orchard in her beaded handbag that very morning, still crisp and fresh thanks to the preserving spell she'd cast on it before leaving for Hogwarts. Discovering the fruit had made her stomach tumble, thinking of their kiss in front of the Mirror of Erised. A kiss that had made her think of the sweet tang of Granny Smiths, among several other wonderful sensations. A kiss that had left her more confused afterward than ever.

"I thought you'd like it. Figured I'd give it to you before it rotted." That was only partially the truth. Another part of her mind had whispered to her, Remind him of what you shared. Remind him of what he threw away.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Lupin raise an eyebrow at her dejected tone. He was about to reply when the horrible, curdling voice came echoing through the halls once again: "I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself...." Hermione buried her head in her hands, trying to block out the scene from her vision, trying to cover her ears to defend against the cruel sound of the now-dead Voldemort.

After a few moments, she felt the steadying pressure of Lupin's hand against her back, gently rubbing between her shoulder blades. "It's okay. It's okay."

"It's not okay," she practically snapped back. She didn't like the childish petulance in her voice, but she couldn't help it. She still felt so betrayed by him for how he acted after they'd kissed.

Hermione felt his hand flinch, and pause, but he didn't remove it from her back. "You're right," he replied, quietly. "And I'm sorry for that." It felt like he meant the apology for more than just their current shared situation within the nightmare, but she didn't care. It wasn't enough. In another stroke of petulance, she shrugged away his comforting touch.

As soon as his hand left her back, she regretted the sulky move, immediately missing the warm feeling of even a small part of his body against hers. But everything she was feeling was in conflict. Part of her wanted to push him away, to push him out of this dream and just sit here alone until it was time to wake up. But the other part? That other part wanted to pull him in again and feel his lips with hers and forget about everything else in this horrible nightmare, and everything else in the world. For those few seconds when they had kissed in the Shrieking Shack, everything besides their connection had blissfully fallen away.

Hermione didn't do either. She just kept her head in her hands as the rest of Voldemort's warning echoed through the air.

After a few moments, Lupin spoke to her once more. "I must be here for a reason, Hermione. Maybe that's to help. Let me help."

She whipped her head up at him. "How? I would love to know."

Hurt flickered in his eyes. "I'm trying."

Hermione almost barked out a laugh. "By what? Making me think that you...that you felt something for me? Kissing me? Then making me feel like a fool after? I saw you later that night, you know. I saw Tonks go in your cabin. That same night, Remus? And then she's hanging all over you in Defense Against the Dark Arts? No, all you've made me feel is like an idiot." She stood up and padded several feet away from the bottom of the stairs, staring at a torn portrait half-hanging off the wall in front of her.