The Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter 5 - A Real Gentleman, Eh?

Hermione woke up feeling miserable. After a mere hour of sleep, she had been stirred by a house elf that had come to relight the fire and tidy the common room. Grumpily she'd ambled up to her dormitory, and, knowing she wouldn't get back to sleep, had a much needed shower.

When she looked in the mirror a pale, wearisome face looked back at her. Her lips were chapped and her hair was frizzing up badly. She wondered where the energetic, healthily flushed Hermione she remembered had gone. No wonder Remus constantly looked so drained; all those late nights transforming.

'Poor thing,' she said aloud, shaking her head sadly.

Her physical state, while colourful, was not too serious; the pounding of her head had discontinued although it still tinged every so often. She undressed to take a shower and nearly screamed.

'I'm hideous!' was her initial thought. She couldn't help but recoil as she inspected her newly discoloured body. All joints seemed to be moving without too much effort apart from a badly twisted left wrist, but it didn't even compare to her physical turnout. A tennis-ball graze was oozing pus on each once cream-porcelain knee, an array of bruises of all shapes and shades was glowing proudly on her body, and an impressive burgundy wound was dried up like spilt wine on the side of her head.

While considering the fun she could have arriving at breakfast looking like she'd fallen down a few flights of stairs on the way, having excelled in medical magic since fourth year, Hermione knew it would be absurd of her not to heal them herself. She fumbled about for her wand before realizing with a start it wasn't there.

Oh no, she thought frantically, I must have left it in the grounds!

She arranged her hair into a messy bun, threw on some clothes, seized a fluffy pair of pink earmuffs she had received from Lily for Christmas and raced down to the grounds, almost crashing headlong into a suit of armour that was walking in completely random directions through the corridors.

'Watch it, Lovey!' it shouted at her as she raced past it, nearly knocking it off balance.

She bounded across the frosty Quidditch Pitch, stopping halfway to catch her breath and nurse a stitch in her side. The sun had not even risen yet, now only a dull pre-dawn glow surrounded her. At least she could still see - just.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and shivered as she reached the clearing just before the Forbidden Forest, where all the drama had occurred the previous night. She scowled as she rubbed her hands together vigorously; she had never been a morning person, much rather preferring to stay up late reading a good book and sleeping in the next morning. It was far too cold at this hour, anyway - the birds weren't even chirping.

Hermione adjusted her earmuffs and began scanning the ground with the utmost care. She stood up very quickly when she stepped on a dark patch in the grass that looked very much like blood - whose blood, she didn't know. Still, there was no sign of her wand.

Well, it could be worse, she told herself. At least I know what I'm looking for this time.

That brought her to another train of thought. Half a school year had passed already - it was astounding how fleetingly it had gone. Hermione had not felt a single second of connection or closeness to finding whatever in Merlin's name it was that she had lost, not one moment in all the time she had spent in this foreign yet familiar world. She was beginning to worry that the fear she had initially felt when she first arrived would come to pass - that she would never leave.

It wasn't a case of her hating life in the past; she was finding it surprisingly enjoyable. But it was not where she was supposed to be and that made her uneasy, like she'd come down with some incurable disease, or start being erased one day out of the blue. Anything could happen; that much, she knew for certain.

Sure, she had made friends; three of which were dead in her time and the other whose life was steadily growing worse. She probably should have initially considered becoming a recluse and moving into the Forbidden Forest to live. It would be her redoubt against a world she plainly didn't belong in. Who'd remember her there in the future, the spiders? At least she'd be of no trouble to anyone, except perhaps herself. She felt not one step closer to getting home and while she had all the time in the world, she had a gutted feeling that it was running out.

She gave a groan of frustration and leant against a tree. It was no use; her wand was nowhere to be seen. She suddenly had a startling thought: what if Remus ate it? Then she'd be in trouble.

She desperately looked around again and did a double take as she noticed someone walking across the Quidditch Pitch, towards the lake on the other side. She squinted hard and made out that it was a boy who was wearing a Gryffindor scarf and had his hands immersed in the pockets of dark trousers.

Giving one last good look of the area she began treading swiftly after him, now, of course, recognizing who it was. He disappeared behind a clump of trees and Hermione, soon reaching them herself followed him silently.

'Good morning James,' she said as she emerged onto the bank, removing her earmuffs.

He was standing at the edge of the icy lake, where she and Remus had many times before, looking distractedly into the distance. He turned around with great speed when she spoke, but soon relaxed upon recognition.

'It's only you, Isabelle,' he said without much expression, and turned back to the lake. 'You scared me.'

Hermione gasped melodramatically. 'James Potter admitting he's scared. And I half expected you to hex me instead.'

'Hmm ...' he sighed, apparently not hearing her words nor feeling inclined to discuss the hardly quotidian occurrence of the two of them being out in the grounds together at dawn. Hermione flicked the back of his head.

'Ow!' he exclaimed angrily, turning to her at last. 'What was that for?'

'Sorry to bring you back to earth,' she said brazenly. 'What were you thinking about anyway? You looked a million miles away.'

She stepped up beside him, following his gaze out beyond the calm waters to the unabatedly pellucid far-off hills. Neither represented her increasingly cloyed life, nor her inherent need for omniscience in any respect. Water remained as tranquil and as delicate as a baby lamb; only ever rippling when disturbed; never errant. And such affable hills: as copasetic as they were predictable; withstanding the most turbulent of storms.

The sun was progressively rising behind them, its rich orange hue immersed in the rose and violet splendour that was the dawning sky. She breathed out in wonderment.

'Pretty, isn't it?' he sighed, uncontrollable tresses jutting out in all directions. 'Just like her.'

Hermione faced him; he had resumed staring outwards almost longingly. His complexion was so ethereal, so innocent. Underneath his tough man act she had speculated over the past months, he was just a boy. Hermione still found it remarkable how much he resembled Harry.

'Who?' she questioned him.

'Lillian Evans,' he said breathlessly.

Of course! Hermione felt a paroxysm of excitement when she remembered that it must have been around this time that he and Lily got together. Why, it was only several years later that they had Harry - and only several years before they were both murdered by Voldemort ...

She shuddered involuntarily; it was all so surreal - almost as if she had befriended the dead. But now was not the time to become maudlin over what was inevitable. Even if she had planned on changing the future, she knew that dire consequences would surely supervene: people never being born, certain things never being discovered. If horrific events never occurred, then how would the world ever learn?

'I ... I don't know what to say,' Hermione chirped gleefully. 'Have you asked her out yet?'

'Oh, plenty of times,' he said sullenly, eyeing the ground. Then, looking up to the sky he let out a small humourless laugh. 'She hates me.'

'No, she doesn't!' Hermione said zealously. Then after a moment added with the same enthusiasm, 'She just - really - doesn't like you.'

This somehow didn't seem to bring up his spirits. He sighed again and flopped down on the grass, Hermione following suit. She hated to be the bearer of bad news, but Lily did constantly rave about how self-centred and vindictive he was; how he always expected her to go out with him just because he was popular. She had even said to Hermione that he was "the most pestiferous, not to mention arrogant pig I've ever had the misfortune to meet!"

Hermione, remembering saying something along the same lines to Ron in her fifth year, didn't think it would be a good idea to pass on Lily's specific opinion to James. He was clearly smitten.

Groaning helplessly, James tore his fingers through his hair.

'What is it that you like about her?' Hermione inquired, her tone sympathetic.

'She's just so ...' he flung his hands about, searching for the right words, 'so different from other girls. She's not only smart, beautiful, nice - well, not to me,' he added dryly. 'But she's got this fiery personality that never wavers. She isn't shy in front of anyone, she's never prejudice and man she has a nice arse ...' He paused then put in hastily, 'But don't tell her I said that.'

Unable to stop herself, Hermione burst into a cyclone of laughter. Before long she had her head in her hands, rocking back and forth uncontrollably.

'Isabelle, don't,' James said crossly. She brought her head up.

'Oh, I'm sorry James,' she gasped, not sounding sorry at all. 'But you are hopeless; utterly, utterly hopeless.'

She stopped for a moment, then, looking at James, snorted into her hands again, and continued to shake with merriment. She felt like a hyena, or a banshee, or a cross between the two, but she couldn't help herself - it was too ironic; Lily and James were both so stupid. If only they knew that they would end up baring a child together, her best friend at that!

James looked offended for a moment, but soon his mouth began twitching into a reluctant smile. Hermione, who was now rolling around on the ground with tears streaming down her face, was struggling to breathe. Soon James was rolling with her, overtaken himself by the contagious urge to just laugh.

When the two had finally caught their breath and the hysteria had receded, Hermione gave a last titter before looking at James seriously. 'What I said before ... it isn't really true, you know.'

He flung down onto the grass tersely and looked up at her dubiously. 'You're not having me on?'

She twirled a lock of her thick hair, thinking carefully about what she was going to say. She didn't want to lead him on, but she didn't want to deter him either. All she need do was tell him her gut feeling.

'Part of it is true,' she began slowly, 'because a part of her can't stand you. But,' she added quickly at his expression, 'I believe that as much as she wants to hate you, she can't help being drawn to you, she can't help liking you a little.' Hermione grinned. 'She doesn't shut up about you at any rate.'

'So why won't she go out with me?' James growled in frustration, staring at the clouds rolling lazily by above them. The sun had fully risen, casting a rich morning glaze over them as if it were icing a cake.

'Because you really don't know how to act around girls!' Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself. She had always been bluntly honest and really, he was better off knowing.

James' eyes very nearly popped out of their sockets. He looked dumbfounded.

'Wha - how could you even assume - I do so know how to act around girls!' he spluttered indignantly, sitting up again. 'I'm gorgeous for God's sake; I get girls after me all the time.'

'Dear, dear James,' Hermione said in a condescending manner. 'That's the trouble with you. You think you know an awful lot of things but really, it's only your looks and momentary charm that catch you your flings.

But realistically, if you ever want any hope of getting into a serious relationship or, putting it more specifically, getting one of the few girls that you can't have, then you'll need to realize that there is so much more to us than breasts. We're a lot more complicated, I assure you.'

'I'll say,' he said touchily.

'So if you want Lily to like you, and I mean really like you, then you'll have to put in some effort like a real gentleman.'

'But I don't know how to be a real gentleman,' he protested.

Hermione stood up and stretched indolently. 'Then you'll just have to learn.'

She began walking off. It was nearly seven o'clock and she was feeling peckish. She heard James groan and jog up to her, putting a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her.

'Look,' he said heavily. 'You. Would you teach me?'

'What?' Hermione said, caught off-guard.

'To be,' he looked anxiously around and lowered his voice, 'a - a gentleman.'

'God, you are desperate,' Hermione muttered. She grimaced, exhaling apprehensively. 'I don't think it would be a good idea James, you can work it out yourself, you know -'

'Please,' he interrupted. 'I've never felt like this about anyone before; it's killing me but making me feel alive at the same time.' He cringed at his last words, but continued determinedly. 'I - just - want - her - to like me. She doesn't have to love me, just like me.'

Hermione laughed. 'Hmm, getting her to like you might be even harder than getting her to love you,' She stopped when she looked into James' eyes, pleading to her behind his spectacles; there was that boyish, handsomely naïve look about him again.

Oh, what did she have to lose? Surely helping James and Lily get together couldn't hurt - they were supposed to get together anyway. Maybe she was destined to do it, if you believed in that sort of thing. Now it was her turn to groan, not in frustration but in yieldingness.

'Okay, okay. I'll help you,' she said with difficulty.

James brightened. 'I appreciate it,' he said, and meant it. 'But could you promise me one thing?'

'Mm?'

'Don't - tell anyone about this, especially not Remus or Sirius.' He cleared his throat and said in an undertone,

'They'd never let me hear the end of it.'

Hermione beamed at him. 'You have my word on it.'

*-*-*

Hermione was told in full detail what happened when she had fallen out cold the night before by James at breakfast. The barking she had heard was Sirius (who, of course, was an Animagus and could transform into a dog) getting the wolf's attention. James (a stag Animagus) had then leapt onto Remus, knocking him about with his antlers. While James kept Remus busy, Sirius had quickly transformed back into a human, grabbed the biggest stick he could find and knocked Remus on the head, sending him into unconsciousness.

They had kept Hermione warm with their jackets, which she thought very courteous of them, while waiting for Remus to change back. When the moon disappeared behind a cloud and Remus awoke as a human, they explained everything to him. Horrified, he helped them carry her back up to the deserted common room.

Hermione rubbed her forehead warily and looked down the Gryffindor table. Remus, who was sitting with Sirius, was pretending to be immersed in a school book - it was upside down. His eyes kept shooting glances at them, but when she tried to catch them, he just looked away.

Gloomily, Hermione used her fork to toy with the remainders of her meal, compressing her poached eggs into a glum mess on her plate. She realized this must have been how she felt - a glum mess, a friggin' glum mess at brekkie time.

When breakfast was over and the students started pouring out of the Great Hall, Hermione lagged behind Remus. When he turned into the corridor that led to the common room she grabbed the back of his robes and pulled him into a deserted classroom, ignoring his exclaim of surprise and shutting the door hard.

She turned to face him, crossing her arms. His expression was dead beat, his hair unkempt and his skin pale. 'Isabelle, what are you doing?'

'I'm trying to knock some sense into that head of yours,' she huffed. 'Before you lose it.'

'Just leave me a -'

'No, you listen,' she said a little louder than she meant to, 'and for God's sake look at me!'

He stood very silent and very still, and brought his tired eyes to her determined ones.

'I'm not going to make a huge speech because I'm not big on that sort of thing, plus, I'm far too - for lack of a better word - hung over, but let me get this out.' She bit her bottom lip.

'You're my ... best friend here, and have been since the first day I arrived. You've kept me sane, well, as sane as I can be and ... I can't - thank you enough for all that you've done for me, all this time you've spent with me looking for fucking shit-all.'

Remus' eyes flickered with surprise, he obviously wasn't used to hearing Hermione swear. It was a beautiful sound.

'And you hardly know me but I've known you,' she stopped herself and rolled her eyes, 'I feel as if I've known you, for so much longer. And really, as much as I hate to sound painstakingly cliché, I do care about you and couldn't bare it if you stopped talking to me,' Hermione caught her breath. 'Regardless of what you are.'

She suddenly felt very hot and bothered, as if she had just finished a race; whether she had won or lost, she wasn't sure.

She took a step towards Remus and stared at him. His state had not improved much from the previous night, he still sported several gashes and bruises.

'Please go to the hospital wing Remus. You look like a discombobulated zombie that's tried to kill itself multiple times in multiple ways and still hasn't managed to succeed, despite the fact that technically, it's already dead.' Hermione paused and blinked. 'Where did I pull that analogy from?'

'I can't.' He shrugged half-heartedly. 'It would mean I'd have to give Sirius and James away, and they're not registered Animagi - not to mention the trouble that you would get in. Besides, I wouldn't want to have them healed anyway,' he scowled. 'This way, I'll be reminded not to be so fucking careless again.'

'Stop being so hard on yourself,' she said curtly. 'It's not accomplishing anything.'

'What about you then, why didn't you go to the nurse?' he said coolly, eyeing her own souvenirs of the night before.

Blast, she thought to herself. She had forgotten all about her wand. 'I was going to fix them myself,' she answered promptly. 'I just can't find my wand.'

'Oh!' he exclaimed, looking annoyed at himself. He fumbled about his robes and removed none other than the item in question. 'I'd completely forgotten about it,' he said, handing it to her. 'I picked it up for you last night.'

'Thanks,' she murmured.

They stood in momentary silence, each looking diffidently at one another, waiting for the other person to speak.

'Remus, will you let me heal those for you?' Hermione asked ruefully, looking at his wounds with concern. 'There really isn't any point in leaving them there; you're going to remember last night even if you aren't crippled for it.'

He breathed in resignedly. Looking at the ground, then at her, he slowly nodded. Relieved, yet strangely nervous, she moved closer to him. 'Close your eyes,' she said softly. 'I won't hurt you, I promise.'

'I know. I trust you,' he said, doing as he was told.

She took a deep breath. Pushing some loose strands of hair behind his ear, she gently placed the tip of her wand to the gash on his eyelid and muttered the healing spell. A soft yellow glow lit up the cut and in a moment it was no longer there. Remus kept his eyes closed as she did the same to his cheek. She touched it carefully as if she were a sculptor who'd just completed a fine piece of art.

He slowly opened his eyes and she held his gaze before lightly taking his right arm and working on each individual abrasion with precision and care. She ran her hand up it to make sure everything was fully healed. His skin seemed to burn her fingers, sending warmth through her entire being. After repeating this on his other arm, she briefly rested her hand in his before standing back and putting her wand into her robes.

'Done,' she said with a weak smile.

They could have stood there looking at each other forever. It was one of those rare, ground-breaking moments where everything about it seemed still even though the world continued to spin, and change, and function around it.

Hermione felt very strange, as if a light inside her had switched on. She could now see every detail of Remus's face close-up - from the bridge of his nose, to the subtle flush of his cheeks to the intricate contours of his lips. She suddenly felt her own cheeks grow hot. What was going on?

'So, are we friends again?' she asked with a nervous titter.

'If you'll still have me.' He grinned. She grinned back. He took her hand and they embraced awkwardly.

When Hermione left Remus to go to class, she felt thoroughly confused. She had experienced something in that room that scared her. It was a warm tingling deep inside her that seemed to intensify every time she touched him, even more so when he touched her. But she couldn't possibly feel that about him, about the person she had known as a man so much longer than she had known as someone her own age.

She couldn't possibly feel that about someone who she was going to have to leave eventually, at any given time - someone who even if she wanted to feel such things for, by the law of Time was forbidden to.

No, she must have been imagining it - sometimes Hermione's brain made more decisions than her own heart. Put it down to getting lost in an awkward moment combined with petty teenage hormones and inconvenient loneliness. That's what she told herself at any rate. She was happy with Remus being her friend and wasn't going to jeopardize things again.

Ignoring the doubts that were beginning to cloud her logic, Hermione swept whatever emotions she thought she might have under the carpet, to forget about them like an old pair of shoes.

Better safe than sorry.

*-*-*

'No strutting, no over-protectiveness, no forcefulness, no bribery, certainly no blackmail, no bullying others, no getting into fights, no cockiness. More understanding, more listening to her, more romantic gestures - not corny though, no smothering, more sensitivity - James, are you getting this all down?'

It was Hermione's first 'how-to-be-a-gentleman' class for James. They had gone into a secluded part of the grounds for some privacy over the lunch break and James, who'd been using his pen to play with a beetle on the ground, looked up detachedly.

'Er, yeah, of course,' he lied, pretending to write something in the notebook she had requested he bring.

'Good,' she piped happily. She looked down at her notes again and began walking in circles around him as if she were giving a lecture.

'Now, where were we? Ah yes. More enthusiasm for what she likes, less on-going dribble about Quidditch, more general kindness to all living creatures, less ambivalence and I am an asexual hippopotamus who is going to kidnap you and take you to my pineapple-shaped spaceship.' She stopped, looking angrily down at James, who was now doodling eyeballs on his page.

'You're not listening James,' she said, exasperated. 'I prepared all these notes for you and -'

'Couldn't you just give me the - the notes, Isabelle?' he complained in mid-yawn. 'I can't seem to concentrate today.'

'That's because you aren't trying,' she said through her teeth. She put her hands on her hips and added impatiently,

'Besides, I can't just give you the notes.'

'Why?' he groaned.

'Because, you won't learn as effectively!' she said rigorously, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

They glared at each other and turned simultaneously as the bushes rustled. A group of young Hufflepuff students walked into the area, talking and laughing.

'Scat!' James demanded angrily.

A few began walking off without argument but one boy stood looking at James obstinately. 'No,' he griped. 'We don't have to go anywhere.'

'What?' James leered, as if being answered back to was not something he was used to hearing.

'I've heard about you, Potter,' the boy said stiffly. 'You think you own this school, but you don't, so stop acting like you can order everyone around.'

Hermione remained silent, not having seen this side of James before. She was starting to understand what Lily always raved about.

James snorted. 'I don't have time for this. Ebullio!'

With a blast of red light from James's wand, the boy yelped and fell backwards, sprouting boils all over his face. His friends gasped and helped him up. With many deadly looks at James, they dragged him away as he yelled back,

'You'll get yours one day, Potter!'

'That's what they all say,' James said impenitently, smirking. Hermione's jaw seemed to reach the ground. He didn't seem to notice.

'So, where were we?' he asked nonchalantly, messing up his hair smugly.

'Unbelievable,' she said as if confirming something to herself. 'We really do have a lot of work ahead of us if you've any chance of getting Lily to even consider you.'

James looked utterly perplexed. She yanked him up by the ear as the bell for class rang, dragging him back to the castle.

'OW, Isabelle, that hurts!' he whinged.

'Homework,' she said astutely as if she had not heard him, '1000 lines. I must not be a conceited, immature, pig-headed little brat.'