Alright, so I did the The Reason Challenge set up by May, and I am quite pleaed with myself, though some places are a bit rocky and were rushed as you will probably be able to tell. I must say I've never seen this pairing before, therefore making it quite unusual and unexpected. Though I'll admit I reused words like gleam far too much, but could not think of any synonyms which fit quite as nicely.
The Challenge: Write a Fic inspired by Hoobastank's The Reason
-Fic length: More than 750 (thank God for that...)
-Fic features unexpected HP (or other Fandom)
-Fic must take place in at least two locations
-Pairing must be "outed" in the end...that is one or both profess their love before the audience of your choosing
I pretty sure I met all of the requirements, and I hope this moves nicely with the song.
The darkness that consumed him now surrounded him, creating a pressing and eerie silence that no sound disturbed. His eyes were adjusting to the absence of light, just as he had adjusted to hiding what he felt. The dagger’s edge caught on a sliver on moonlight that made its way through the gap in the thick curtain, making it glint morbidly. He looked around the room once more in an attempt to find something worth living for, and finding nothing, pressed the sharp edge closer to his wrist, causing a drop of blood to crease around the edge of the dagger. Then, he caught a glimpse of a letter on the desk, and walked over to it. He read it swiftly, and a gleam of hope returned to him as he thought of her. She was worth living for, and he would have to find her before his strength to hold up frayed.
A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and a lone figure walking through the rain that pelted unmercifully from the sky, soaking her cloak and hood. But she was too absorbed in her thoughts to be worried with a storm, however dangerous it may be, and barely noticed the trickles of rain that dripped from her hood onto her face. Another boom of thunder shook the sky, but it didn’t so much as make her flinch.
She sank down on a stone bench to think, only stirring to remove her hood and cloak and setting them beside her. She ran her fingers through her somewhat damp hair, a look of bitter remembrance on her face. For the first time in three months, she allowed herself to dwell on some particularly painful memories that had lain in the lower depths of her mind like a forgotten treasure gathering dust upon an seldom trodden floor.
“Please, Remus, let me be there for you!” Hermione said, her brown eyes pleading. “Sirius isn’t here anymore -”
“I know perfectly well he isn’t here, thank you,” Remus snapped. “ANd I don’t need any reminders from a schoolgirl who is too young to make her own decisions.”
“I am not a girl and I am not too young to make my own decisions. I am sixteen, Remus, and fast-becoming a woman.” Hermione breathed heavily, trying to calm herself down, but to no avail. “What were your worries at sixteen, Remus? That you would do badly on an exam, or be caught in one of the famous ‘Marauder‘ pranks?”
“Don’t you dare speak of any of them that way! They are my friends and -” he stopped, realizing what he was saying made no sense. “They were my friends,” he added, choking back a sob, which softened Hermione.
She moved closer to him, wanting to offer him some comfort. “I know you’re hurt, Remus, and I want to be there during your transformation. You know you don’t want to do it alone.”
Remus laughed bitterly, catching a hint of irony in Hermione’s last statement. “But I am alone, Hermione. Very alone, and I have been for a while.”
“Let me help you,” she pleaded, her brown eyes beseeching. “I know I can help.”
He stood up, knocking over the chair he had been sitting in. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone anymore.”
“Yes you do!”
“I know what it is I need and don’t need, Hermione, which means I am certain when I say I don’t need you or anyone else.”
He rose his hand and brought it swinging down to meet her cheek, red hot anger leaping from his eyes, not appearing the least bit sorry. He bent down, and Hermione cowered from him, backing away from him until her back met the surface of the wall. His lips were right at her ear as he whispered, “I don’t need you. I never will need you.” And with that, she ran out of the room, holding back tears, and slamming the door behind her.
The both emotion and physical pain she had endured that night was relived, and she felt her cheek absently as though the bruise were still there. A silent tear fell from her eyes, but she hastily wiped it away. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry another tear for him, and she was not one to take promises lightly nor for granted. Though it seemed Remus didn’t think of promises in quite the same way, as she had come to realize three moths before.
The room was silent except for the scratching of a quill and the crackling of a slowly dying fire which lighted the room comfortably, giving it the appearance of a room well-used. At a desk in a corner of the room sat a woman, her brown hair accentuated with golden highlights which the fire brought out, the curly hairs cascading down her back as she furiously wrote a letter to Harry, asking him for advice about Remus and how she should cheer him up.
The door creaked open, and she laid her quill down, meeting the gaze of the man standing in the doorway with a hint of surprise. Remus smiled wearily at her, and she thought she saw a fading yellow gleam in his eyes. Discarding the thought for the moment, she immediately got up and took off his shabby coat and eased him into a chair.
“Where have you been?”
“Just…around, you know,” he said casually with a wave of his hand at the window. Hermione’s gaze traveled according to his movements, and when he gestured towards the window, she froze. The full moon was hovering there in the dim light of early morning though it was steadily fading into the sunrise.
“You promised me…” she said, tearing her gaze from the window and sinking into a armchair. “You said you wouldn’t transform without me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at her apologetically. “But I ran out of Wolfsbane and didn’t want to harm you in any way.”
“You didn’t run out,” Hermione said coldly, the happy touch in her eyes fading. “You couldn’t have, because I brewed an entire batch yesterday.”
She stood up and walked out the door, ignoring the apologies and excuses that were pouring out of Remus’s mouth and the letter that sat, unfinished, on the desk.
He saw her, sitting on the bench as though she too were stone, and hurriedly walked up to her. He sat beside her, waiting for her to notice him patiently; he didn’t want to disturb her thoughts, and he didn’t want her to run away from him.
She sighed and turned to face him as though she had known he was there. “What are you doing here, Remus? How do you even know where I am?”
“I’m here to talk to you,” he said, ignoring the latter part of what she had said. “I -” a boom of thunder drowned out his words. “Can we go somewhere inside?” he asked instead, standing up and offering her his arm.
“I suppose.” She likewise stood up, but didn’t take the arm he held for her and proceed to walk on as if she didn’t care whether he followed or not. Which was probably through, he though to himself.
She led him to the Three Broomsticks and sat down at a table she thought far from any prying eyes or curious ears. He followed her, sat down across from her, and took a breath, trying to gather his courage for what he was about to say.
“Out with it, then!” Hermione said impatiently. “I have better things to do than to talk to a liar.”
Remus sighed, closed his eyes, and then began. “A week ago I thought of killing myself. I have nothing more to live for, I thought. Everything and everyone I’ve ever known is either dead or gone. Sirius, James, Lily, and most of the Order are all dead, and no one else will see me anymore. And then…I saw a letter from you to Harry that you wrote three months ago about me…and I realized then that I loved you.”
“Remus, no! After what you did to me, I don’t want to hear it!”
“Please, Hermione, I need this out!” Hermione nodded quickly, so he continued. “I’m sorry that I hurt you, I truly am! It was something I had to live with every day. Thinking about how I had caused you so much pain hurt me more than you could ever imagine. I wish I could take it all back, take it away, but I can’t. I want to catch every tear that you’ve ever cried over me and whisk it away somewhere unknown, but I can’t. I‘m not perfect, and I never meant to do any of those things to you.”
“Please stop,” Hermione whispered, her cold edge fading.
“I’m almost done, and then I’ll leave you alone and go. I just had to let you know that you’re the reason I’m even alive today, the reason I’m not the same as I was, the reason I’ve changed. You’re the reason for me. I’ll show you a side of me I’ve never shown before, that you never even knew existed if you’ll just give me a chance.”
She didn’t say a word, and he stood up to leave, disappointed and hurt, but before he was half out of his seat, Hermione caught his arm. “I’ve some things to tell you too, Remus.”
He sat down, not daring to hope, waiting for her to speak.
“I think I can forgive you…I think so, even though I don’t want to. But even now I’m beginning to, now that I see you. The only reason I went away after that was to stop loving you - I didn’t want to anymore, but I never stopped and…”
He held a finger to her lips, and quieted her words with a soft kiss. It was quick and over in an instant, but it signified so many things that it didn’t matter. The turning over of a new leaf, a new beginning, a new chance, and a new relationship. Hermione smiled, and the pair stood up to leave. They walked out of the bar and into the fading storm, hand in hand.
“Aha, Doris!” an elderly man yelled triumphantly. “That’s ten Galleons for me! I told you Remus Lupin had never lost his charm.”
Doris scowled, and handed over the Galleons. “And if you don’t gloat I’ll give you one more. I mean, the girl was so young and he’s older.”
“Well, not much of anything matters if you’re in love,” piped Rosemerta from behind the bar. “Hermione Granger always did have a mind of her own. More mead, Randal?”