Tears For You

Standing alone in the middle of the classroom, beyond caring about the fact that the room was rapidly filling with younger students, she began to cry.

He watched her carefully with lowered eyes, painfully aware of the warm, salty tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes had reddened, her mouth shaking but firm, and she ignored the curious gazes of the other students, and stood, unmoving, not even reaching-up to wipe away the tears from her cheeks.

How he wished that he could be the one to dry her eyes. Oh if only he could just cross to her, take her in his arms and whisper that everything would be fine. For it would be fine - if he were allowed to act as his heart desired. It was not even his conscience that stopped him. More the worry that she did not care; that he would be snubbed.

He risked another secret glance. She was looking at him, an intense, penetrating look, one that spoke of curiosity, of admiration and most of all, of anguish.

Hesitating a moment before speaking, he finally gritted his teeth and jumped.

`Is there anything you want to talk about?´

As propositions went, it was hardly offensive. Strictly within the bounds of common, professional courtesy - after all, what was so unusual about a Professor looking-out for the wellbeing of one of his pupils? - there was no reason for her to turn down the offer of a sympathetic ear, and he prayed fervently (in one of his rare communications with God, which always seemed to take place at times like this) that she would consent to his offer.

A silent nod made his heart leap.

He motioned for her to walk out into the now silent corridor, and she did, shoulders slumped and her feet dragging a little on the wooden floor.

Resting his back gently against the wall, he looked at her questioningly. "Hermione?"

She didn´t say anything at first, instead her lips wobbled almost imperceptibly, and his heart broke for this poor, wretched child.

Finally she broke the silence. "I just -" Her voice cracked, and then she swallowed and tried again. "I just can´t cope any more. I can´t. I wont."

He frowned slightly, forehead creasing. "What can´t you cope with?"

She looked down at her feet, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze.

"Well?" He tried again.

Raising her head, she met his eyes with a steady and frighteningly adult look.

"Professor Lupin."

Sensing a break-through, he eagerly seized this advance. "Yes?"

Suddenly she seemed like a child again, and once more refused to answer him.

"Hermione. Please!" His tone was bordering on the exasperated, his feelings for her doubling the excruciation of the moment. "How can I be expected to help you if you wont talk to me?"

A smile spread slowly across her face, and with slight shock he realised that she was challenging him.

"Hermione? Stop it. I have another class to go to, and if you are just wasting my time, then please tell me, and I will leave." He ground his teeth in an annoyance that was anxiety more than anything else. Please don´t say that you want me to go. Please give me a sign that you care. Hermione?

With a sudden movement that took him entirely by surprise, she crossed the short distance between them, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips against his.

This was the last thing that he had expected from her, and with a start he broke away, staring at her with a mixture of happiness and disbelief.

She smiled up at him, a soft, feline smile that made his heart race. "You are what was wrong with me," she said softly, not breaking eye-contact for an instance, "You made me cry."

"But..." He looked at her incredulously, "Why?"

Her answer was simple: "I love you," she said. "I love you so much that it hurts."

In a single fluid motion, their lips met again, and this time he kissed her back.