Keeping Secrets

Hermione jerked upright in bed, spilling the covers off her body. Morning sunlight that bathed the small dormitory in gold had filtered through her red hangings and cast her pale face in a soft ruby glow. Her eyes were wide and shocked, and her hair hung about her face in a chaotic tangle. A terrible realization had come to her as she lay blinking away the last veils of sleep.

She had left her schoolbooks in the library last night.

Her mouth was suddenly full of sick dread like bile, and she felt she might be ill. Crazy heat flushed into her face and forehead, leaving her faint.

He'll know it was me. Oh god. Please don't let him have found the books.

Her hands trembling, Hermione shoved back the sheets and half-rolled, half-fell out of bed and began throwing on her school clothes. Desperate thoughts flashed through her mind. Maybe he won't! And anyway, it doesn't mean I was there last NIGHT, I might have left them there during the DAY, plenty of students do that! They're leaving things around all the time! It doesn't MEAN anything! He CAN'T FIND OUT, HE CAN'T!!!

Recklessly, she fumbled around in her suitcase searching for her shoes, dropped them onto the floor with a heavy thud, and proceeded to cram both onto her feet at the same time. In a bed on the opposite side of the room, the red hangings were tugged apart and a bleary, sleepy face peered out.

"Could you be any louder if you tried?" The girl mumbled, and, getting no response, let out an annoyed sigh and disappeared back into the shadows of her bed.

Fully, but shabbily dressed, Hermione slammed her suitcase closed and thudded across the room towards the door.

If only her books were still there.

Please, please let them still be there!

"There were no books."

Hermione's heart dropped into her stomach. Her vision swam; she realized she might actually be going to cry- right here, in the middle of the library, with everyone watching. She didn't really care. In truth there were only a handful of students in the library at this early hour of the morning, and the librarian, Madam Pince, was glaring at her suspiciously.

"Please, they have to be here somewhere, I left them on that table over there," she pointed, "when I was studying... because I was in a hurry and I had to get to class..." she realized how feeble these excuses sounded, but was unable to stop the flow of words. Her voice had become almost a whisper.

"I checked all the tables," Madam Pince snapped in her thin, irritable voice. "I always do. Students are always leaving their things around. Especially those nasty little First Years..." She pursed her thin lips, and added, "You should be more careful with your things- it's your fault if they get pinched."

A little gasp escaped Hermione; her efforts to hold back a sob. With all the composure she could manage she turned and walked slowly towards the library door, and out onto the landing. Standing there, looking down the steps of the Grand Staircase, she felt like she absolutely must cry now; nothing was left for her to hope for. Lupin was going to ask to talk to her and then hand all her books back, and he was going to look at her like she was crazy; or he might even tell McGonagall. Yes. She would be called into McGonagall's office.

Just the thought of sitting there while McGonagall, and possibly Lupin, and any number of other teachers looked on and berated her- just that thought, was enough to make her want to crawl into a deep, dark hole and die. A tear slipped out. Just one. And that one tear caused an avalanche of grief and sorrow to collapse in on her heart, and she took off up the staircase towards the girl's bathroom.

The morning passed uneventfully. Hermione cried for a little while in one of the bathroom stalls, until numbness overcame her, and she became-or thought she did- resigned to her fate. When her tears had dried and her eyes had lost some of the raw, puffy redness, she spent some time examining herself in the bathroom mirror with cold detachment.

When two other girls came in laughing in loud voices, she almost jumped out of her skin, but managed to sneak out mostly unnoticed, and head down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She had Transfiguration first, and her schoolbooks for that were among the ones she had left in the library, so she would have to borrow from Harry or Ron.

**

She found them sitting together at the Gryffindor table, in their usual places. Harry was chatting to Lee Jordan; Ron was plowing through his bowl of porridge and reading a letter, presumably from his family.

As she walked down the rows of tables it felt as if people were staring at her as her back was turned- that she could feel their eyes boring into her. Accusing. As if everyone knew. She felt like a criminal.

Hermione tried to act normal as she sat down opposite Ron to a bowl of porridge that had turned lukewarm.

Ron glanced up from the letter. "Where've you been?"

Hermione didn't feel like eating the porridge; in fact just looking at it made her queasy, so she wasted time by buttering a slice of toast instead. "I slept in," she said shortly.

Harry had turned away from Lee and was smiling at her. She didn't meet his eyes for fear of the guilt he might see there. The guilt was eating her up inside. She reached for a jar of marmalade and began to scrape it over the toast.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, the smile fading from his face into a look of concern. "You look kind of... odd."

"Yeah. Your eyes are all puffy," Ron added, and then shoved another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.

"Well thanks very much," Hermione snapped. "I'm not having the best day, alright?"

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "We were only asking."

Hermione put down her knife with a clatter, and hid her hands on her lap below the table- she realized they were shaking. "I've been tired. I've had loads of work to do."

"Did you stay up all night or something?" Ron asked jokingly, and then caught the look of anger on her face and his smirk subsided.

"No! Why would you..." she took a breath, trying to maintain control, and understanding that Ron could not possibly know. "I was working all afternoon. That's why you didn't see me all day."

"You missed Transfiguration."

Hermione sighed. "I had... things to do."

Ron shared a glance with Harry, and it only increased her anger. It was as though they were interrogating her.

Guilty, guilty, guilty! Her mind screamed. She noticed that her toast was now getting cold. The marmalade glistened and she thought she had better eat some of it- but the thought increased her feeling of nausea.

"Fine. Don't tell us," Ron muttered dejectedly, and went back to his letter. Then he threw her a casual glance. "Oh yeah. Professor Lupin wanted to see you."

Hermione's hands jumped on their way to pick up the piece of toast and banged painfully against the underside of the table, causing several Gryffindors nearby to look at her oddly. "Wh-what about?" She stammered.

Ron shrugged. "He didn't say. He said to go see him in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, during lunchtime. It must be something important though- he was waiting outside the Common Room this morning." Ron again went back to the letter, and Harry stopped staring at her and resumed his breakfast, but shot her little glances now and again.

Hermione felt as if all her nerves were freezing, like someone had just tipped a bucket of icy water over her head. She looked at her arm and saw that all the tiny hairs were standing on end. The world seemed to be shrinking in around her. She was choking, suffocating.

The rest of the day seemed now to be impossibly short- there were only three classes before lunch.

Three classes.

Hermione felt utterly helpless. A series of wild ideas started to race through her head- any excuse to not go to see Lupin at lunchtime. But not one of them seemed adequate- or believable.

But there was no way she could face Lupin.

She stood outside the closed classroom door. Her skin itched and burned with nervous heat. It seemed an impossible step to take- just to open the door and go inside. But she must.

Over the course of the morning, she had resigned herself to the fact that this was her problem, it was entirely her fault and she had to face the consequences. But that didn't stop her heart beating like a jackhammer in her chest, or the sick dread that squirmed through her stomach at the thought of facing Lupin.

She reached out her hand and turned the doorknob. The door swung open with an innocent little creak, and she stepped inside.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was dimmer than the corridor outside. Dingy curtains had been drawn across the windows but yellow light still filtered through in shafts, and tiny dust motes danced and whirled in their beams.

But Hermione didn't see any of this. Her eyes were fixed on the young man in dusty old coat, who appeared to be putting away a stack of books that were nestled in his arms. He slid them back on the shelves on one side of the room and barely glanced up as she entered.

Silently, feverishly, she stood just inside the door. Waiting.

"Ah. Come in, Hermione," Lupin said, without turning his head. His voice was calm and measured. "Close the door and take a seat."

She did so, and walked up to one of the desks facing the front of the class, and slid into the chair behind it. She clasped her hands in her lap and stared at them. Waiting for the admonishment to begin.

He surprised her by saying softly, "I don't want to make this any harder on you than it has to be," and, sliding the last book into place, he turned and walked to the large desk at the front of the class, leaned back against it, and levelled his eyes at a point just below her chin. His expression was unreadable. He looked pale and incredibly weary, and it crushed her heart to think that she was the cause of it.

Without her even realizing she began to cry the tears flowing silently unnoticed down her cheeks, a humiliating betrayal of her guilt. There was an unspoken tension in the air.

Finally Lupin raised his world-weary, blue-grey eyes to hers and said in a gentle voice, "All I need to know is- were you in the library last night?"

She found now that it was her who couldn't meet his eyes. The tears continued to flow. She knew she looked a mess and guilty as hell- there was no real need for him to ask. Long seconds ticked by. Eventually she found her voice and whispered a single word- "yes."

Lupin gave a tiny nod. In that nod he took on an air of immeasurable sadness, as if some huge weight had been placed on his shoulders and was driving him into the ground.

Hermione sniffled. She felt utterly miserable. For what she had done to Lupin- for what she had let herself do. But at the same time- insanely- there was still a longing to be close to him, and to touch him.

To kiss him again. Oh, what she would give for one last kiss.

But now wasn't the time to be thinking that. No, if she had any ounce of self-respect she would banish those thoughts, forever.

Lupin's eyes lingered on her, and she couldn't stand the weight of them, so she stared into her lap. Then finally he spoke.

"I assume this is why your schoolwork has been suffering of late." He paused. "Because of me, yes?"

She sniffed again, a pitiful sound. On the edge of her vision she saw Lupin move off the desk and step towards her- the next thing she saw was his large, long-fingered hand holding out a folded maroon handkerchief.

"It's clean," he said, unnecessarily, and with a shaking hand she took it. The tips of their fingers met and touched for a brief instant, sending a jolt of electricity through her, then he drew his hand away and went back to the desk.

"So. Is this why?" His hoarse voice was soft and kind, and she thought maybe it would better if he shouted at her. Better for both of them. Still silent, she nodded and buried her face in the handkerchief. Then, amazingly, a smile creased his face. "This is nothing to be so upset about, Hermione."

She raised her eyes and stared at him.

"It happens all the time. Of course, I don't condone this sort of behaviour - not at all- but..." he let out a little laugh, which struck a pang of fear in her. It seemed fake, somehow. False. "...I'm hardly going to kick you out of my class because of a little crush..."

Hermione's face flooded with angry colour. Suddenly she found her voice again, and it was strong and defiant, in spite of the tears still drying on her cheeks. "It's not a crush!" She said hoarsely, her eyes burning.

The force of her response took Lupin by surprise. His eyes widened, and he seemed then to look at her more deeply, staring until she was forced to blink and look away. Then, because something else seemed required, she said, "please don't make fun of me." It was barely more than a whisper. Now the tears came back unchecked- the endless tears. "More than anything I can't bear that."

Lupin's attempts at flippancy were gone, all now that remained was a raw, heartfelt sympathy. And something more, buried deep. Some nameless ache inside him, a longing to reach out and comfort her. To take her in his arms.

But no. Never, Remus. Not in all the world would I do that. She is just a child.

But so beautiful.

Lupin slowly levered himself off the desk and walked over to the windows. With his gaze off her Hermione looked up and followed with tear-blurred eyes. He stood at the window, looking out but not really looking at anything.

"I'm so sorry, Professor Lupin," she said in a choked voice. "I never meant for... for you to know... I never meant for it to even happen."

"It was supposed to be a secret," he said in a flat, detached voice. The sound of it worried her.

"Yes."

A smile that she couldn't see touched his lips. "This is a wizarding school, Hermione. It isn't so easy to keep secrets here." As he spoke he turned around and looked at her, and finally she saw the smile on his face, and a light in his eyes which could have been tears. And there was something in his gaze that caught her breath in her thoat and sent a shiver up her spine.

In his eyes she saw the same longing- the same love- that she felt for him.

They stared at each other for a long, long moment. Seconds sped by meaninglessly and Hermionefound her hands clutching tightly at the small square of cloth he had given her. She held on to it as if to a lifeline.

"Professor-" she said breathlessly, not even knowing what she meant to say, but he stopped her by simply shaking his head.

"We shouldn't talk of this anymore. Let it be over with." Awkwardly, stiffly, he walked back to his desk and began needlessly stacking her books on top of one another. "We shall say no more about it," he said in a falsely cheery voice, and offered her a strained smile- one that looked as though it had been painted on over a grimace.

"Please, Professor," Hermione said, and suddenly leapt to her feet, banging her shins on the desk in front of her. She still clenched his handkerchief in her hands. "I need to know if..."

He looked at her calmly, almost coldly. "If what, Miss Granger?"

Anger flashed in her eyes. "Don't call me that!" she said desperately, breathing hard. "You never call me that!"

Lupin breathed in deeply. He was resting both his hands on the desk, leaning over it, and now he looked down. "Miss Granger, I think we've finished here."

Her eyes burned. "No!" She took a step towards him and the desk. Words formed in her mouth, but she couldn't seem to say them. She struggled for breath. Finally, she managed it, "I need to know if you feel the same way!"

There. I said it.

Lupin continued to stare down at his desk. His face was pale and sickly-looking below his light brown hair, and she couldn't quite see his eyes.

He stood there in silence.

"Please," she said again, in a half-sob, but there were no tears. Only that horrible, aching desperation.

"And if I did?"

The words, so softly spoken that she almost didn't hear them, took her by surprise.

"This is not a world, Hermione, that accepts situations like ours."

Situations like ours? What does that mean?

"You have so much potential. You have an incredible future. I will not be the one to jeopardize that." He looked her fully in the face, at last- and her heart slid into her mouth. There were tears in his eyes.

Now her own eyes overflowed; she began to weep again. "No-one would have to know..."

"Ah, Hermione," he said with an odd choked sort of sigh that made her stomach hurt with grief and sympathy. "Please. I beg you. Let it rest."

"How can I?" she sobbed. They stood only metres from each other, separated by his desk- but they could have been standing apart on separate islands on a cast, unfathomable ocean. Her eyes brimmed with tears and there were tears on her face, and on her robes; she was drowning in a sea of tears.

His heart broke for her. He felt as if he was caught in a dark storm- unable to see but for a few metres ahead and all else was darkness.

She sobbed uncontrollably now, her face buried in her hands. They covered it like the bars of a cage. Her shoulders shook with the force of her crying.

He took a hesitant step towards her, moving around the desk, so that is was no longer between them. "Hermione..." he croaked, but was unable to take the last few steps, to cross that vast distance and enfold her in his arms.

She came to him. She crossed the space between them in three running steps.

She collapsed into his arms and it was like finding sanctuary. Wordlessly he curled his arms around her shoulders and placed one hand on the back of her head, burying his fingers in her long brown hair. Her head rested on his chest and he sat his chin on top of it, just holding her. Her hands were clenched tightly in the folds of his dusty coat. Her tears soaked through it, staining it.

After an impossibly short time- perhaps ten seconds- Lupin gave a gasp and pulled away, his eyes red-rimmed, seemingly far older than his years. His coat slipped out of her grasp and she was suddenly alone again.

"Please, Hermione... I cannot." He drew in a deep, shaky breath and leaned back heavily against the desk, half-sitting on it.

"We weren't doing anything wrong," Hermione protested weakly.

"That isn't how it would look if one of my students were to walk in." He touched a hand to his forehead, rubbing there with his thumb, and squinched his eyes shut. "This isn't what... what I intended when I called you here." He opened his eyes again and let his hands fall to the desk, gripping it by the edges. He stared wearily at her feet. "Please go now."

It was as if a sledgehammer had been driven into her stomach. All the air escaped her lungs in a rush.

No. You can't say that. You can't mean that. Not now.

"Professor, why won't you look at me?" She pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"No!"

"I have to prepare for my next class."

"No!" She was crying again now. More tears.

Oh god, when will I ever stop crying? When will I ever be happy again?

"You can't pretend you don't care about me!"

"Of course I care about you." Very quiet.

"Then don't send me away! Please... just look at me! Professor..."

He looked up and met her eyes. "That's it, Hermione. I'm your Professor." Slowly, he walked around the desk and sat down behind it. "And that's all I can ever be."

A whimper slipped from her mouth; she tried to hold it back, but it was no good.

"Please understand- this is not easy for me. But to go down this road... it would be very dangerous. For both of us. It would destroy us." His blue-grey eyes were sad, and apologetic. "You do understand that, don't you?"

After a very, very long time, she nodded.

Lupin smiled. His eyed glinted again- she knew for sure now that he was crying. "Then let's say no more about it."

The world seemed to slip very slowly from under Hermione's feet, and now she felt like she was floating, surrounded by grey emptiness, in a cold, dark void. Sunlight fell through the dingy curtains and cast a golden light on Lupin's face, a light from another world. He seemed impossibly beautiful to her then, and sad.

And unattainable. Like something out of a dream.

With the last of her courage she summoned the words, "will you tell anyone?"

Lupin smiled again, ever so sadly. "You know I won't. We all have our secrets, Hermione." A strange look came into his eyes as he said this, and he glanced almost unconsciously out the window, looking for something she didn't see or understand.

Then it seemed like it was time to go. If Hermione could have spent the rest of her life in that classroom with Lupin, she would have. But there would be no happy ending for them.

He seemed to understand that she had resigned herself to something, and gestured toward the pile in front of him. "Your books."

Slowly, on unsteady legs she stepped forward and lifted the books, stacking them into her arms. He picked up the last book for her and rested it on top.

Now she found it even harder to look at him than before- it felt too much like saying goodbye. So she turned away without meeting his eyes and walked down the long rows of desks towards the classroom door. Outside, she could dimly hear the chatter and clamour of voices and running footsteps. It was almost time for class.

"Hermione..." he said quietly. Even across the long classroom she heard him, and spun around. Now they looked at each other. There was no pretence, no effort to disguise the adoration and love she saw in his face. "Take care, my dear."

Her eyes stung, and she found she couldn't say anything, so just nodded, and went to the door. She fumbled with it for a few seconds, feeling his eyes on her back, and she felt she might suffocate from the frustration and helplessness she felt. Then the door opened and she stepped out into the bright corridor.