Confessions: A Tale of Locked Doors and Deception

CHAPTER THE THIRD

From then on, those late-night tutoring sessions' nature took a serious turn. Yes, we continued with studies as originally planned, but it seemed more and more often that these lessons would begin in the classroom, and resolve in the bedroom. When we were together, we would find it nearly impossible not to be touching, to some degree, at all times. Our time spent together was that of learning, but not of books, but of love, relationships, and eventually, sex (more on that in a later time). Though I had had men before, and he was married (with child), neither of us knew much of love. Everyday, as lessons had been increased to six times a week, we would discover something new, something that would amaze us both. And these something would be kept between us alone.

As much as his love put me in a state of ecstasy, it also put me in anguish. His owls home, though much less frequent, would tear me apart as I watched from across the hall, longingly. In class, it was nearly impossible for me to conceal my lover for him. Yes, we would sneak the occasional glance, but it took all I had to make our relationship seem purely platonic to the outside community.

***

Of course, eventually, my fellow classmates realized that something was amok. I mean, my previous reputation was well known throughout Hogwarts: Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, Gryffindor's resident boy-crazy ditzes. Do well enough in school, but more concerned with makeup and clothing than anything else. And now, here I was, devoting twelve hours of my week to Defense against the Dark Arts, without so much of an excuse as Gilderoy Lockhart. I did get teased my few share times, one that especially stands out in my memory.

The setting? Care of Magical Creatures class. The Characters? Yours, truly, and Slytherin's resident rich, bratty, smarmy excuse for a white, bouncing ferret. The perfect stage for a drama, reminiscent of the muggle Shakespeare's tragedies Or Maybe a comedy, I never could tell the difference. Stupid Muggles.

I was walking to the paddock with Lavender, discussing my prolonged absence the night before. She accursed me of skipping Trelawney's tower that evening (when Saturn and Venus were in such accord that the clairvoyants were perfect for accurate crystal gazing - permitted that you have the Inner Eye.) I told her a practical lesson had run overtime. The truth? That... "practical lesson" had not been on the exorcism of wraiths, but on each other's bodies.

Malfoy happened to overhear us. Smirking, he said to himself, just loud enough for my hearing,

"Lesson Topic: The joys of sex with a forty-year-old man."

I ignored him, as I knew it was just for a reaction. He was put off by my refusals of his sexual advances over the summer; his good looks just didn't make up for is attitude. Plus, he tended to have a constipated expression fixed on his face. Not a great turn on. But it still disturbed me to how close he was to the truth of the matter.

But though people frequently jested about my 'sudden interest in Lupin', no one took the comments seriously. They just assumed that I was finally taking the interest due to the approach of fifth year O.W.L.'s, something suddenly common. The entire year was putting the extra effort forth. The Gryffindor boys had formed a study group; Neville was actually getting decent scores in Potions, of all things. Hermione, the house prefect, haunted the library even more that usual and Lavender could sometimes be found with an actual book alongside her magazines and trashy romance novels. But it was not only the Gryffindors. Draco Malfoy was not so loathingly blasé, he actually began to take notes in Potions class. In all, the main point is that an excuse had been fabricated for me.

***

Against all hopes, there was not to be another Yule Ball this year. It was a Triwizard Tournament thing, and quite honestly, I was grateful. Pretending to have fun with a juvenile boy was not my idea of a good time. Unless maybe it was Roger Davies. Yum. But no, because then Remus would be there and it wouldn't be such a jolly good old time. Remus. Christmas. Ah, yes. Remus now had no choice but to return to bloody Medugorje and his bloody son for the holidays, so I had little reason to stay. I found myself Floo-ing back to our cozy little townhouse in Oxford with Padma, her nose in another book.

We arrived home, father was all "How is Hogwarts going? Keeping up the grades?" and mum was all "Oh, dear, not the china. It was just washed. Put a polishing spell on the silver, dear, and try not to breathe." Everyone in the holiday spirit, as normal. Upon our arrival, Mum was in a tizzy over father hosting his division of the Ministry's Christmas Soiree that evening, December 23 ("Be a good dear and stay out of the way).) Perfectly all right with me. I was knitting a jumper for Remus as a Christmas surprise, periwinkle to compliment his eyes. We could easily arrange a meeting when we returned on the Express on December 31. Besides, he never had enough jumpers.

Christmas was uneventful and dull. I received clothing and jewelry from y self-absorbed parents. You know, I never realized how introverted, if that's the term, that they really were. It was always 'Georgia-this', or 'David-that', and 'Buy the children a present, then maybe they'll shut up and leave us alone.' But it seemed they were so much older than Remus, when it was only really a few years. They didn't have a mischievous glint in their eyes, or actually listen to my problems. Remus had enough of both for the world, though, and he was my world.

The first day back to Hogwarts from any vacation is a holiday in itself, especially when there are no classes for three days. December 31^st was no exception. For us who had come back ahead of time, there was a minor feast in the celebration of New Years, as well as a rebuked curfew for those in fourth year and above. This, of course, gave me free reign to spend the night with the one person I wanted to. Who, you might ask? Well, if you can't tell, you are either a) extremely dyslexic and have not been paying attention, or b) extremely stupid. No offense to the former.