Who: Hermione Granger and Remus Lupin
When: Monday afternoon
Where: Lupin's office
What: A lengthy literature discussion goes awry!
Rating: PG
Status: Complete



Oh to say the year had been smooth sailing and nothing but an array of sunshine and daisies would have been the first of a downward spiral of lies. The list was long and sadly, it was growing as the day started to grow colder, drawing closer to Autumn lurking around the corner. Hermione felt as if they were dragging. It seemed unlikely that they would be considering she was continually keeping herself busy for most of them, but they were endless. The close of the year felt as if it were unfathomable in the miserable place she was stuck in now. It really wasn't in the brunette's nature to be so down so frequently, but nothing had gone as according to plan thus far in the year. And more than anything, she felt very much alone.

But she was never alone when she was lost in her books and so, she'd been keeping them close at hand at all times. Always having one to be a reader, as everyone well knew, she was engaging in more of them whenever she could spare a moment. Sometimes, she read new things, passed on by a fellow classmate or professor. But there were others when she enjoyed reading classics, her favourites. Stories she knew better than the back of her hand. Those were the easiest to get lost in. And for the time being, she was content in doing so as opposed to sticking around for the sad reality that her year had become.

Thankfully, there were plenty of resources in Hogwarts for her escape methodology. Professor Lupin was probably the best one. He had such similar reading tastes as her, he was the first person Hermione went to when in need of a good story or a book discussion. That was what brought her to his office today, clutching a novel in hand and knocking with the other, waiting patiently for a response.

Remus did enjoy reading, though he found his usual form of escape wasn't as necessary, or as easily accessible as it usually was. On the one hand, he wasn't complaining. He was juggling time spent with Tonks, teaching his classes, the private tutoring he occasionally gave a handful of students who'd requested it, and watching out for Harry. It was a busy schedule, but one he reveled in. Still, from time to time it was nice to be able to take a time out and indulge himself in relaxation. Being able to relax was something he hadn't really had the ability to do in quite some time, except in those pages.

This wasn't the day for it, however. Instead, he found himself spending his afternoon marking papers, the sixth years' latest essays sprawled across his desk. As usual, he found himself beaming with pride as it occured to him that some were really grasping the subject. Some were only back in his class because they'd been forced to between the Ministry and the Headmistress, but some were truly trying. It was a comfortable feeling, and it warmed him as he read through the scrawl of Colin Creevey's essay. When the knock sounded on the door, he almost missed it as engrossed as he was in the subject. It permeated his brain slowly, however, and Remus finally glanced up. "Come in," he called out, surprised a student would appear at that time on an afternoon where they could be taking time away from their studies. Of course, it could always be someone on the staff, but most of them simply barged in-a fact he really wished they'd work on.

Surely when he saw which student that was, he wouldn't be as surprised. Opening the door partially, Hermione just peeked her head in at first. "Professor?" she said quietly. When she noted her was in the midst of a stack of assignments, she frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry to bother," she said, remaining near the doorway. "I just was bringing your book back," she said, holding up the text to display the reason for her visit.

Taking a few steps inside the room, she looked toward the vast bookshelf that she had started to grow so familiar with now that Lupin was a professor once again at Hogwarts, something that alone was comforting. He, along with the addition of Tonks, had made the year that much better, even if there were so many other doubts revolving around it. "I'll just go on and put it back," she said, not wanting to be rude and interrupt his work. Hermione would always have a fear of being impolite, no matter whose presence it was in or how well she knew the man.

Gathering the parchment in front of him, Remus made a tiny pile and shook his head. "No, not at all," he reassured, gesturing to the seat across from him. "Please, if you're free. I could use a break, honestly, everyone's handwriting's starting to blur together." Which was only a half truth. He had no problem keeping up with the assignments in front of him, but he could use a break, at least. That, and he had the idea that the young woman in front of him could use the chance to talk, even if only about the book she'd just finished. He wasn't that great at giving advice, he didn't think, but he was always willing to listen when a student had a need for him to do so. Even more important to Remus than the students learning Defense Against the Dark Arts was them feeling confident enough to enter the 'real world', and Remus knew his seventh years only had months before they had to do so. And he wanted this one to be more comfortable with her upcoming adulthood than most. She was facing the start of her life almost on her own, and he knew she had great things to offer the world if only she could deal with everything facing her now. "What'd you think of the book?"

Hermione relaxed when he invited her to join him and didn't feel so guilty when she claimed that it would be a break for him as well. Abandoning the bookshelf, she settled into the seat across from him and rest her hands in her lap, the book on her knees. At his question, she glanced down at it. "I liked it," she said. It was the 'Scarlet Pimpernel' a book that had been on her list for quite some time and that she was delighted to find was in Remus' possession. "I'd seen the play one summer when I was younger. It was just offered in a local school, but I thought the concept was interesting. But... I actually think I liked that better than the novel itself," she admitted slowly as if it were treacherous in and of itself to say such a thing.

"I think it was just something that was better to be watched as opposed to read."

Remus gave a slight smile at her expression, knowing how she must feel admitting to enjoying anything more than she'd enjoyed a book. For her effort, however, he shrugged and offered a soft chuckle. "Did you know that the play was written and produced first and then the novel followed?" he asked, giving the pages of parchment a small push before leaning back in his seat. "The novel was just as popular, I think, but I believe there's something to be said about the play being the original. Usually, for us at least, the adaptations are reversed, you know? The film or the radio show or the television program comes out based on the book, and you typically hear that the book was better. In this?" He nodded his head towards the book in her lap. "The play came first and you thought that it was better than the book. No small coincidence, I don't think."

Her eyebrows rose when he offered up the tidbit about the novel coming out after the play. That was rare and something that Hermione didn't actually know. She couldn't help but to grin when he pointed it out. Remus always had a way of helping his students to feel just a bit more intelligent. It was surely one of the reasons why he had always been so well liked in the classroom.

"I didn't know that," she said, looking down at the book again and turning it over as if to study it briefly. Looking back up, she looked sheepish again. "I was wondering if you had another I could read," she said. "I don't mean to keep coming in to steal away all of your books. I just have been in a bit of a frenzy with them lately, if I'm being honest. It's hard to want to put any of them down." Because there was no where else to turn to. She left that part out, of course.

For a moment, Remus studied her carefully. She seemed fine--on the surface. But was she? Was she doing as he'd done so many times over the years and hiding between the pages of someone else's world? And if she was, did he really have any place to fault her? He'd done the same, and yes, he did wish he'd been able to face life more head on before. But she'd been through hell, surely it wouldn't hurt someone who was otherwise keeping up with her responsibilities so well to occasionally hide herself away.

Remus nodded his head towards the bookshelf she'd been approaching a moment ago. Perhaps it was a foolish whimsy, spending the small amounts of hard earned money that he had on books. But he depended on them so greatly. He found them secondhand, or as he preferred, pre-loved. He received them from friends who had finished them or from library book sales. The collection in his office was rather impressive for someone who often hadn't had two knuts to rub together, and the one in his rooms was even moreso. Still, the one in front of them was nothing to scoff at, and he grinned. "Help yourself, Hermione. You know you're welcome to them at any time. Unless it's one I'm in the middle of, then you're just going to have to wait," he teased.

That was what scared Hermione. Or rather would have had she noticed it -- The fact that she was started to feel more comfortable between the pages of a book than she was among her peers. It was what she had done when she was a child. Why? Because there was no one else like her. And different was a terrible, terrible thing for a little girl with bushy hair, buck teeth, and a love for reading instead of playing games in the garden.

And now she was grown, having seen more terrible things than she would have wished even on her worst enemy. She'd made best friends, surrounded herself with a support system, and was excelling academically. And still, she was shying away, closing back up into that little bubble of fiction that she'd essentially spent her youth inside of. While others spoke of the best mates and favourite play dates when they were children, Hermione thought quietly to herself about her best friends in her imagination - Tom and Huck, Oliver, Cinderella and Prince Charming. It was heartbreaking to think that they were the people, aside from her parents, that she associated with her companionship. And since her parents weren't around anymore and her friends were slowly drifting apart...

Well. She was a little too eager to indulge in another book and get lost inside the chapters. When he told it her was all right, she left her chair to browse the shelves, pausing to replace the novel she'd brought back, and running her fingers along the spines gently as she searched for another. "I'm looking for...." she mused as she roamed over the stacks for one in particular. "This one," she said with a smile, pulling out the one she was seeking. Sitting back in the chair near his desk, she set the book in front of her on the table top. "You aren't in the middle of Peter Pan, are you?" She asked. Ah, Peter. He was one of her favourite closest mates.

At that, Remus had to grin. "Not this week," he confessed, reaching out to brush one finger over the cover. "So many films and plays and yet...this is definitely one where nothing can compete with the book." A tale about a boy who wouldn't grow up. A curious choice for her, though again, Remus couldn't fault this. He certainly didn't believe that one's choice in literature defined who they were. He'd never have taken Draco Malfoy as one to read Shakespeare for instance, or Pansy Parkinson to indulge in Robert Frost. He himself had always been the boy who'd read the closest newspaper, the nearest novel, or even the back of the cereal box if it was all that was available.

Still. He couldn't say he wasn't concerned. "Planning on an adventure with Peter, then?" he questioned, attempting to keep his tone neutral. "I can't really see you as Wendy, indulging his boyish whims. Maybe a bit more Tiger Lily. Willing to go along with him but still fiercely independent in her own right." There. That gave her an opening if he ever could provide one. And he'd never push her to talk, but he wanted her to always know the chance was there if she wanted it. It was hard enough having Harry close himself off. He didn't want Hermione doing so, as well.

Hermione was puzzled by his response. "Really?" she asked with curiosity. "I think I would have considered myself relating to Wendy more," she said. "She was always so logical. I think she wanted to believe in things like Neverland and fairies, but even when she was there I sort of... I don't know. I sort of felt like she knew better. Like she knew it was fun while it lasted but that was the whole thing of it... It couldn't last forever. She didn't understand Peter. She wanted to. She tried," she said, glancing down for a moment. "Merlin knows she tried..." she repeated quietly. Then, she looked up and continued. "But she just couldn't. She was too intent on the rules and growing up. The way things were supposed to be." Another glance somewhere to the wall behind him as if she were beginning to lose herself in thought. "Boring, really."

And suddenly, it was as if everything just clicked in Remus' head. The reason Hermione clung so desperately to the book. She must have felt like a stranger in a new world sometimes, stepping into a life without her parents; she was facing life as an orphan with friends she couldn't talk to because of all of their own problems. She, like Wendy, had been forced to grow up despite the urge to cling to such an eternal childhood.

Remus smiled gently, sympathetically, trying not to make her feel inferior for the thoughts that she'd just expressed. "I suppose I simply meant that I couldn't see you letting Ron order you to sew his shadow back on," he teased. "Though I don't think either of you could ever qualify as boring. Once Wendy let herself go, I think she truly enjoyed Neverland. She may have understood that her time there would come to an end, but she let herself revel in it while she was there."

Hermione tensed physically at the mention of Ron. It was one subject that was more difficult for her, especially as of late when she was beginning to realize that some people changed, others didn't, and when those who did change evolved from something else, it wasn't always for the good.

And it could have meant leaving people behind.

"Do you think Wendy loved Peter?" she asked, her voice in a somewhat distant tone that signaled she was deep in thought.

Tilting his head in consideration, Remus let the question sink in. "I think," he began slowly, remembering that he was talking to a young woman who was still very much a teenager in her own right, "that she loved him as much as a young girl could. I always thought she... I thought she might fancy him a bit, but that in the end, she found him too immature." Sounded like another couple he knew.

Several others, if he was letting himself dwell. But it had worked out for James and Lily in the end. "Perhaps, if she'd stayed behind, that love would've grown and flourished. But she had to be true to herself, too."

His words hit close to home and in more than a few ways, Hermione again felt herself relating to Wendy. “I don’t think it would have,” she said after several moments of pondering silence. “I think it would have just been convenient for her because he was there and he represented her childhood.”

Was that what Ron had turned into? Just a memory of things that Hermione needed to move on from?

Essentially, she needed to grow up as well. Just like Wendy. And she wanted to. There were parts of her that wanted to stay a kid forever and not have to worry about the hardships that later years would surely bring. But she needed to grow up and in order to be happy while doing so, she needed people to help her. Not abandon her. “Peter didn’t seem to care, really,” she said, drifting off into thought again. “He would have chosen to never grow up over Wendy eleven times out of ten,” she said. “I don’t know how Wendy quite felt about that... But I think that’s part of why she wanted to leave Neverland,” she reasoned.

"Because she felt she'd never be enough for him?" Oi, did he understand that. Remus leaned back in his chair, considering what she'd said. Obviously, he knew there was far more to it than just Wendy and Peter's adventures, or their misadventures so to speak. This was Hermione's life he was advising on. "There was always the off chance that, in the end, Peter would've recognised her feelings for what they were. Perhaps grown to return them. And I think part of him did love her, in his own way. But he... I'm not sure he knew how, Hermione. In his head, he really was just a boy. A selfish, impulsive, clueless, immature boy. As most of us are," he added with a smile. "But sooner or later, we do all grow up. If Peter had, the story might have had an entirely other ending."

Nodded, she thought over that to herself. It wouldn’t have been the same story if Peter and Wendy were in love with one another and one or both decided to forego their wishes for the future to appease the other. It wasn’t a love story. It was a story of adventure and intrigue. Hermione was just thinking too much into it, surely. But when her heart was aching so badly, it was hard not to attribute it to other things. Even books.

“What about you, Professor?” she asked with the curiosity of a student learning a new concept. “Did you want to stay young forever or could you not wait to grow up?”

At that, he had to chuckle slightly. Would he have chosen to grow up? "What you have to remember, Hermione," he began, a slightly wistful look crossing his features, "is that, in my own way, I was one of the Lost Boys. Imagine... Imagine Sirius as Peter, here. Leading a rebellion against authority and all things adult. I think, if we could've, we'd have stayed second years forever." It was curious that he'd never really thought about it before, but that was part of Hermione's charm, always being able to make him think. It was a fresh change of pace from always doing the teaching. "I know, it's silly, and immature. And I wouldn't trade some of the experiences as an adult for anything. Still, to hold on to that innocence? I'm not sure anyone could walk away from it." He knew, in his head, that staying young would've meant never meeting Tonks. It would've meant not having Harry in his life, and never teaching. But it would've meant always having James and Sirius by his side, and believing that Peter was perfectly innocent if a little annoying. It was a complete Catch-22. But that was another book, entirely.

Again, Hermione took the time to think about his answers and a part of her heart went out to him, despite the fact that her own was so out of shape at the moment. It was easily seen that he missed his dearest friends from when he was a child, especially when he spoke of them in memories. A grin surfaced when he mentioned that Sirius would have been like the Peter in the story. “I can see that,” she said, nodding.

His words had her thinking about what her answer would be if someone asked her the very same question when she was his age. Would she have wanted to grow up or stay young forever? Would she think so fondly of her best friends? Of course she would. Harry and Ron were irreplaceable in her heart, no matter what path time cut into her memories of them. Or how they seemed so distant in the present.

“I think I could fancy the idea of walking away from it,” she admittedly, almost as if she were ashamed of the fact. “I suppose that makes me sound like a right awful person,” she said with a frown. “I just... always wanted to grow up. I couldn’t wait until I was big enough to be on my own and be the only one responsible for the things that happened to me,” she said.

"Oh, I think everyone feels that once in a while," Remus reminded her with a smile. "That craving for independence? That urge to have a place of your own and make your own food and leave and come back at the end of the day because you want to, not because anyone's making you? I think everyone wants that at some point." But did he still, nearly twenty years later?

Of course, their situations were entirely different. She didn't have the added burdens that being on her own meant to him. But she, unlike him, was facing the start of her adult life on her own. It made things a bit different, he had to imagine. Remus still had his parents to lean on at eighteen, even more helpful as he was still trying to adjust to his lycanthropy as well as being on his own. Hermione wouldn't have that. She'd have himself, of course, and Tonks, and she had an unbreakable group of friends, no matter what they were all going through individually. But she still had to feel very much alone. "My views are probably also skewed, considering I'm older. At twelve, I probably thought it was about time to be twenty-five and living on my own and doing something brilliant with my life." Well. Two out of three, right?

Sighing, she looked down at the book in her hands, tightening her grip on the bindings as her thoughts felt as if they were weighing heavier. She was faced with the idea that she might start to get emotional, especially as she began to confess to some things, but she nonetheless continued on doing so. “When I came to Hogwarts everything changed,” she said. “Well... I guess at first, it was still hard. Making friends,” she said to clarify, thinking back to how much Ron and harry disliked her initially and she spent more time with people like her dorm mates and Ernie MacMillan than anyone until they came around and started to appreciate their friendship. “But then I never wanted to leave. Even with the bad things in the war beginning to stir so early on, I wanted to stay here forever. I felt like... I don’t know,” she said, flexing her fingers against the cover of the novel. “Like I finally fit in and I wasn’t so much the odd one out anymore,” she said. And she had been for most of her young life before she learned about being a witch.

“But now... I feel like... I feel like I just want to go back to when I was little. Before any of this,” she said, swallowing a lump forming in her throat.

"And now?" Remus questioned, prying gently. "Now that the war's over?" Because everyone knew you couldn't stay in school forever. Unless you came back to teach. A part of him hoped maybe Harry would choose that as his route. He knew the boy had wanted to be an Auror. Minerva had told him his aspiration just after her counseling session with Harry. He and Sirius both had agreed they'd help Harry however they could, and Remus was the only one left to do so. But he had a feeling Harry had no idea what he wanted to do anymore, and Remus wouldn't blame her if Hermione didn't either. "What is it you want now, Hermione? Next year? The next ten years?"

He may have been prying as gently as he could have, but Hermione was so fragile that it wouldn’t have taken much more to get her to completely fold. “I don’t...know,” she said, shaking her head. Her lower lip started to shake subtly and her top teeth snagged it in hopes to keep it steady. She was willing herself not to cry. It was such a familiar game to prevent tears from showing in the presence of others. She didn’t want to lose it now.

But it was so hard. And this girl was so tired of trying to be the victor in a game that she never wanted to play to begin with. “Now I think that I would yell at Wendy,” she said, tears brimming her dark eyes. “She never should have went with Peter to begin with. Not if she was just going to change her mind in the end,” she said before turning the story back to her own situation again. “I don’t want to be here anymore, b-but because I just want to go back to w-when it was so much safer to imagine stories instead of living them,” she said, fingers possessively clutching the book in her lap as a few droplets of water leaked down her cheek.

Oh, Merlin. The poor girl. Just a girl, really. As hard as Hermione tried to be a brave adult, a strong young woman, she was still just a girl at the end of it all. Remus reached into his top desk drawer and retrieved a handkerchief, reaching out to gently brush away a few of her tears before offering her the cloth. "Wendy couldn't have stopped herself anymore than you could," he said softly.

"She was a girl wrapped up in something she couldn't control. A part of her wanted adventure, but I think more than anything, she just wanted to support her brothers. And I think, in your way, that's exactly what you've done. You wouldn't have walked away from Harry or Ron, would you? Or Ginny, or Neville, or Luna? No matter what you've all gone through, I can't see you sitting back and letting them all face it alone." And that was what he'd tried to tell Harry. They were a support system, the lot of them, and they needed each other. Why, then, did they all insist on pushing away and separating? Didn't they realise just how crucial they'd all be to each other once it was all said and done? "You've got time, Hermione. You're still so young. You've got time to grow up, still. You don't have to do it all at once."

Part of Hermione wanted to be entirely selfish at the moment, and it was hard to restrain herself from what she wanted to say. She didn’t manage it and couldn’t help but to mutter, “I’ve never let them face it alone!” she said, tears freely falling now in a mix of emotions so strong, it was hard to tell one apart from the other -- sadness, hurt, guilt, frustration, and most of all, loneliness.

“But they aren’t here now,” she said, falling apart and taking an ax to walls that she’d been working to secure all year long. “And I need them,” she said.

"Oh, Hermione," Remus murmured softly, "they are here. I promise you, they are. They just don't know how. When...when people face loss, they face it in different ways. The same goes for when someone they care about does. I had no idea how to approach Harry when we lost Sirius, and I'm relatively sure he and the rest of your friends feel the same about you." He knew how selfish she must be feeling, even if she shouldn't have been. There'd been many times in his own life where he'd just wanted to protest 'but what about me'. And it was an unpleasant sensation, knowing he had that urge in him.

“But you tried,” she said softly, sniffling as she dabbed at her eyes with the borrowed handkerchief. “You didn’t just leave him alone for so long that he had doubts you cared at all,” she pointed out. “I just... miss the one time in my life that I never thought I would,” she admitted.

Remus' smile was soft, his expression comforting. "Harry's dealing with plenty of things on his own. Ron is, too, in his own right. It's not that they mean to leave you alone. I just don't think they know how to handle it." And really, who could expect three seventeen year-olds--well, one eighteen year-old and two seventeen year-olds now--to deal with death and loss and even with murder as much as they had? "They don't mean to abandon you, love. I know how much they care about you. Harry's told me himself how much he wishes he could help. I just honestly think they're unsure of how to approach it."

Hermione nodded after awhile, unclenching her free hand not holding the tissue from around the book. “I know,” she said. And she did. It was a lot to ask of her friends and she knew it was hard to know where they should start -- after all, she had been there with Harry as well. Many times, in fact. Could she really blame them?

Still, she felt like others had been there more than they had. People she didn’t even talk to as much. Or people like Remus, who was taking the time to discuss the deeper meanings of books and how they applied more to their own lives than they probably realized at first. She didn’t point this out though. Hermione already felt foolish for her small breakdown in Lupin’s office.

“You’re right,” she said. “I know. I just... I don’t really know, sir,” she said sniffling again. “Sometimes I can’t help but to let my emotions get the better of me. And all because of a silly book,” she added with a somewhat bitter chuckle.

Remus breathed what might have been a laugh if the situation weren't so sad. "If you didn't, I don't know that you'd be human," he reasoned, giving a small shrug. "I think we all get tied up in them at times. It's what the author intended, after all, to get us emotionally involved in the characters' worlds." That and, if she didn't, he was afraid she might burst under all the pressure.

"You've every right to let it all go sometimes, Hermione. You've been through so much. I know you hate it when I say so, but I am proud of you. All of you, really. Every single one of you who was able to walk back into this castle and finish what you started." And for a million other reasons that might either anger her or start up her tears again, so he kept them to himself. But to be as strong as she was? She was allowed the occasional breakdown. He'd be sure to let her, and no one would say she couldn't if he had his say.

“I do hate when you say that,” she said. “But Professor?” she added cautiously as if she might regret admitting yet another thing. “Thank you for telling me,” she said.

Hermione really didn’t like to be noted for being so strong or brave. She preferred to stay in the shadows, the sidekick as she always was. Spotlight was never something she wanted and if asked, she would never want to trade her place for Harry’s. Only in the fact that if she did, she could have the weight of the world instead of him. But as far as the fame went, she wasn’t envious that he had it.

“Now I’ve gone and gotten it all teary,” she said with another sad laugh, looking down at the book and holding it up to show him that it had a few tear spots on the cover.

Remus flushed slightly. "It wouldn't be the first in the collection to have a few tears," he admitted slowly. "I wouldn't worry about it. Just shows it's more well loved that way." Not that he'd ever confess to which books, though there had been a reason he'd given her A Tale of Two Cities, as it was revered slightly above most others. Not that he was much for crying over his books.

But there'd been moments in life where, like the younger version of Hermione, they'd been all he had. "Gives you something to think about while you're reading it over, I think."

"It does,” she concluded. Getting to her feet, making sure it was done so in a steady motion, she took a deep breath and tucked the book under her arm. “Can I ask you one more thing, Professor?”

"Of course," Remus reassured, conveying that, as always, his door was always open to her.

“Do you have any chocolate?” she asked with a small smile.