Chapter 5: Contrived? Well I never been so insulted! HMPH!
Over the next month, Harry was more disgruntled than ever. The vampires welcomed the scowling, Renoir mistaken it for the vampire lust for blood. When Fred and George tried to ask what was going on, Harry ignored them, angrily checking off inventory. The twins were a bit disappointed, but they had to regulate Harry to work in the back to prevent him from snapping at the various customers. His appearance did not improve either. Everyday he seemed less and less motivated to groom himself for work, his robes getting more wrinkled and worn; his hair more disheveled even for his usual self.
As angry as Harry was with Hermione, he still thought about her constantly. He would remember the night they spent together, but just as soon as a smile crept over his face, he would recollect the argument that happened between them. He tried once to send a letter to her apologizing. Hedwig came back carrying a small pouch which contained the shredded remains of his letter. He took that as a no.
The castle offered no console either. Ever since his exploits, vampires have been expecting great things from him. He was officially back on the celebrity radar. While this boded well with the vampire community's morale, especially for Renoir, Harry spent most of days at the castle in his room fuming. Harry was about to turn into bed at dawn when there was a slight rap on his door. Renoir stepped in, looking as debonair as usual.
"Harry! I've been wanting to get a hold of you," said Renoir.
Harry got up, lazily bowed and sulked back down into his bed. "What do you want master?"
"Tonight is our monthly Vampire/Werewolf mixer. One of our dignitaries has been…away on business to the south. I was just wondering if you could take his place. We need to keep up appearances after all," request Renoir.
Harry contemplated how wonderful it would be to spend a night in a hall full of vampires and werewolves, all of them no doubt wanting a chance to rip their heads off at the slightest insult. Harry knew it was futile to resist. "Yes master," said Harry with a tired look on his face.
"Wonderful, I'll inform the others," said Renoir with a delightful smile on his face. "And please do freshen up Harry. We don't need to lower our standards for our guests."
Harry scoffed as the door closed and he got up. He did his best to clean himself up, feeling a tad refreshed by his shower and donning new fresh robes. Tired of staring up at his ceiling, he walked out to the balcony and looked over the forest. Half the moon lit the grounds. He felt the cool wind fill his lungs, lifting his spirits slightly. A slight murmur caught his attention from below and he quickly looked. He half expected a brown bush of hair to be heading towards his way, but instead it was a small congregation of werewolves heading towards the front doors. Sighing, Harry took one last look at himself and he headed towards the great hall.
The Great Hall looked a bit more lively than usual. Torches were lit, illuminating the room, chairs and tables full of warm food were situated against a wall. The fireplace roared with life and even the vampires' faces looked a bit more alive. Harry looked more surprised than pleased that vampires could be this warm and welcoming as they greeted werewolves at the door. One thing he did notice had not changed was the cobwebs, still clinging desperately to the torches. He wondered if they treasured the cobwebs because they are so similar to themselves, ancient useless things unwilling to leave this world.
Renoir's snide voice echoed in the halls, giving out false welcomes and praise. A werewolf standing beside him returned the gesture. Harry began to wonder if they were brothers separated at birth on the similarity of their voices. He was tall, slightly taller than Renoir and burly. He had a long gaunt face with flecks of grey in his brown hair. When one of his kin prodded him to wake up and listen to the great Renoir, Harry actually looked up and caught some of the words of the speech.
"Now before we mingle a bit, we might as well start out with the dance," said Renoir boisterously. "Nothing speaks more harmony between two people…or in this case two races such a good dance. So come on now people, partner up, we are all friends here."
Harry looked across the room and saw a great divide, vampires on one side of the room, werewolves on the other side and what seemed to be the dance floor in between. Had there not been a banner saying "Monthly Vampire/Werewolf Mixer" on the back wall, he'd would have thought this be a battlefield. Looking at his fellow brethren, it was clear that most of them were apprehensive. He looked over to the werewolf side and they were equally displeased. When Renoir finally encouraged the crowds to join (with his counterpart almost barking commands), Harry felt himself being pushed along with them amongst many low murmurs.
He looked lazily around the room feeling a bit compelled to find a dance partner. His had his doubts when a lot of the werewolf females looked more disgruntled than anything else. He was about to turn around until in the corner of his eye he caught something…a big brown bushy something. He blinked, almost knocking his head into another vampire to look. He apologized profusely and saw the big bundle of hair move off into the center of the crowd. The band slowly tuned their instruments. Harry rushed up to a figure in a pink dress, knocking a suitor out of his way.
"Sorry, so sorry," apologized Harry, grabbing a hold of Hermione's hand. "Uh…she's already taken."
The vampire looked a bit displeased, all the same he drifted into the crowd who were still trying to organize themselves.
"Harry," exclaimed Hermione, her face lit up a bit. As if remembering something particularly sour, she turned her head as if looking for someone else.
"What are you doing here?" hissed Harry looking over Hermione's shoulder to make sure no one was watching them.
"Not seeing you, if that is what you're thinking," said Hermione with a bit of a scoff. The music had started. With no one else available in their vicinity, she reluctantly took Harry's hand. They were dancing a small waltz albeit poorly.
"I gathered that much with your reply to my owl," said Harry, his head twitching to look off in every direction.
"I didn't think you'd care much for a written reply from me," she said.
"Look I said I'm sor….could we not do this now? What are you even doing here?" said Harry as he saw a vampire whisper into Renoir's ear. Harry guided them deeper into the dance crowd.
"I was asked to attend this meeting by my superiors," she replied coldly. "Something that I could not control so it seems."
"Could you please stop being so stubborn?" said Harry as he was dancing towards a far wall.
"I don't think you're in any position that call me that," replied Hermione looking very angry. "And furthermore you…."
Hurry put his hand over her mouth and pushed her into a broom closet. Hermione started to protest while Harry tried his best to close the door as quietly as possible. When he turned around, he saw Hermione looking very crossly at the corner of the room.
"Hermione would you at least look at me?" pleaded Harry.
The icy silence of her back stared at him. He felt a sudden drop in his stomach, lower than every before.
"Hermione please…I already said I was sorry," continued Harry. "What more do you want?"
"No it's fine," she replied in an indistinct tone.
Harry felt a slight sense of relief until she started speak. "I mean I'd assume that the both of us haven't been close to anyone for some time. We all need some physical release every now and again. I completely understand."
"That's not fair!" exclaimed Harry feeling more hurt than angry. "I've never intended it to be…."
"A one night stand?" interrupted Hermione. "Well sorry if I'm mistaken, because it certainly felt that way."
"Hermione!" said Harry, not caring anymore if anyone hears them. He walked towards her turning her around. "Will you quite being so stubbo…"
He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Hermione's face. She stared at him sternly; straight in the eye, faint tears streaming down her cheek. What seemed like hours, she turned away and attempted to regain her composure. Harry gently touched shoulders and brought her in close. He gave out a deep sigh feeling Hermione's sobs reverberate against his chest. He stepped back and looked down.
"Hermione. I'm…I'm sorry. I shouldn't' have treated you that way. I should have known better," he said quietly.
Hermione sniffled and looked up into Harry's eyes. He felt relief wash over him as she forced a small but sincere smile. "I'm sorry too Harry. I guess we both were a bit high strung lately. I've been so lonely…and when I saw you at the reunion, I just…just felt something life my spirits again," she said as she dipped her head again. "That night when I found out you were a vampire…well I thought you would of all people would understand."
Harry smiled and put a finger under her chin gently bringing it back up; her face still glistened slightly from the tears, her eyes very red.
"I do understand," he said as he leant down to give her a kiss.
"No Harry," she said, just as he could taste her breath "Stop. I thought about what you said. And you are right."
"What?" said Harry, feeling something sharp hit him in his gut.
"We can't be together," she said. "Not like this. Not like in our states."
"Hermione," he said. "When I first saw you again that night of the battle in the forest on our side of the border…"
"The werewolf side Harry," she said very plainly.
"Whatever," brushed off Harry too excited to argue. "The point is we can make it work. We can think of something together! You always come up with something."
"I've already given it thought Harry," she said sadly, "and…it's just not meant to be."
She looked at him as if to see if he understood, but he was beyond comfort. He looked at her beautiful eyes again, perhaps for the last and final time. With the decision that they can not be together again he sighed and closed his.
"I'll see you Harry," said Hermione apprehensively. She gave him a soft kiss on his cheek and exited the broom closet. Harry heard the music leak through at full volume and then muffled again shortly but the shut door. He felt as if the broom closet was closing in on him. In fact he wouldn't mind so much if the ceiling collapse right on top of him now. A wash of muffled applause from outside wakened him from his misery. Seeing this an opportune time, he headed for the door until it actually started to open.
He literally jumped into the air, eight feet and instinctively clung onto the walls with his hands and feet, his body splayed flat against the ceiling. As the applause continued two figures bustled into the broom closet. It was Renoir with the person who was onstage with him earlier making the announcements.
"Do you know that girl who just left this broom closet? She looks familiar. Is she one of yours?" inquired Renoir as he walked into the door.
"What were you thinking talking like that earlier?" growled the man pushing Renoir.
"Please," said Renoir with an insincere smile. "Could you watch your hands? I had this suit made especially for me over a century ago. I had some fond memories with this suit."
"Now is not the time for passive aggressive proddings Renoir; from either side!"
"What do you ever mean my dear Kain?" said Renoir. "I was just merely keeping up appearances."
"It looked like you were trying to start a war out there Renoir. As much as I would relish our first battle to in your," Kain paused, looking up and down at the vampire in front of him; as if sizing him up, "quaint little castle, we have higher priorities."
Renoir laughed as if the idea amused him very greatly.
Kain glared at him and grabbed Renoir by his shirt, "We can't have any suspicion happening so close to the completion of our goals. Especially by your rantings."
Renoir eyes widened at where Kain was holding him.
"Keep your filthy paws off me," said Kain quietly.
Kain pushed him against the shelves of the far wall, shaking the broom closet. Harry slipped down an inch, his heart felt it slipped down twelve.
"Or what? You'll kill me?" said Kain with a great defiant smile. "You know Renoir…as much as it aggravates me to have to work with you. I find slight comfort knowing that such a proud vampire as yourself requires the assistance of a werewolf."
Harry gulped as he saw possibly for the first time ever, Renoir show a loss of composure. He was ready to strike, fangs bared, hands clawed, his eyes full of intent to kill, but he just stood there panting. Kain just laughed as Renoir just stood there, glaring at him knowing full well Renoir couldn't just rip his head off. Moments passed and the sound of applause came through the doorway. Renoir's fangs retracted and he smoothed his hair back, regaining his dignity, but Kain just smiled.
"The night is ending. Thank you for a pleasant evening Renoir," said Kain, still grinning at his small victory. "Keep your tongue in place in the future…lest you want our rise to power be cut short."
Kain was about to leave when he turned around. Harry didn't think he could hold on for any longer, his arms were burning, his legs were shaking. "And for future meetings, something better than a broom closet if you don't mind. It's far too stuffy in here."
Renoir sneered as Kain left and closed the door. He hit the side of the closet, smashing a hole into the stone with his fist causing the room to shake and Harry to lose even more of a grip. His robes were inches away from touching the top of Renoir's head. Renoir closed his eyes, sighed and moved his head up, taking deep breaths. Harry froze daring not to even breathe.
Renoir then brought his head down, forcing his eyes open almost in an attempt to stay awake. He left soon after, putting on his best smile. Just as the door closed for the last time, Harry dropped right onto the floor. He held his nose, feeling it slightly bruised. With his ear pressed against the door, he heard Renoir bidding a fond, but fake farewell to the werewolf company. There were signs of relief and murmurs of disgust as the voices outside died down. Harry waited until he heard the great hall empty and fall silent.
When he finally got out of the broom closet, the great hall was dark again. Golden embers cracked quietly in the fireplace and a draft circled the room. Off in the distance he could hear howls in the night. Harry didn't know what to say or even to think. He felt a need to do something, yet was there anything to be done? Can he actually do anything at all? He headed towards one of the exits of the great hall.
"What was that all about?" thought Harry as he headed towards his room. For the first time in a month, as he headed toward his room, Harry did not think about Hermione.