Dreaming with a broken heart — Chapter 2: Chapter 2

He knew when he first saw her that she was special. Because, not everything beautiful is necessarily the creation of magic. Written simply because the idea of Remus and Molly together made me squeal :) AU.

She is ten and he is eleven when he receives his Hogwarts letter. Telling her is out of the question. She has absolutely no clue about the magical world and the only glimpse of magic she has had is the time when he had somehow repaired the red Russian doll, at a time when both of them had been too young to comprehend what had happened. But now, the lies roll off his tongue easily though it hurts him no end to look at her tear stained face as she finally says goodbye. She still thinks he's going off to boarding school and he can't help but notice that her huge brown eyes seem dimmer, like a light has been switched off behind them. It makes him ache when she embraces him one last time and holds on so tight that he wonders if she'll ever let go. She does, and he feels cold and empty, like she takes away a part of him when she enveloped him in her arms. But then, a part of him has always belonged to her. He has always known that. He writes to her as often as he can and his owl makes sure to leave the letter at her doorstep only when she is fast asleep. He doesn't think she would take kindly to a bird delivering his letters to her. She was mortally afraid of anything with a beak and wings. His letters are always short and precise, and hers are the exact opposite vivid and descriptive. The reply to his last letter before he returns home for Christmas brings in a fresh wave of guilt for leaving her behind. The sentence itself was short and simple but it conveyed so many unsaid things on her part. Remus, I've never been lonelier. The years pass by and before they know it, he's in his fifth year, ready to take his OWLs, following which would be three glorious months of freedom. The ever increasing amount of homework meant staying at Hogwarts for Christmas and Easter, which meant he hadn't seen Molly in months. He's going up to the owlery to send her a letter when it is snatched out of his hands by thin air. He doesn't see it coming, he isn't the one with the invisibility cloak after all. A sudden feeling of apprehension rushes through him. His best friend knows nothing about Molly. As if to make matters worse, James is not alone. Sirius is with him. Damn. As expected, they read out the letter, aloud. By the time they reach the end, both are laughing their heads off. They're laughing at me because I have a muggle girlfriend. How can they? James is in love with a muggle born. Sirius knows that being from an ancient pureblood family is a pain in the neck most of the time, at least for him. Of all people, they shouldn't be the ones making fun of me.. He has never felt rage in his life before but he can't think of another name for the feeling that's threatening to engulf him any moment. That is, till he hears James choke out a few words. 'And we thought being a werewolf was the only secret you managed to keep from us!' They aren't laughing because she's a muggle. They're laughing because they never managed to find out. Relief sweeps through him and he soon joins in and they laugh merrily, all the way to the Gryffindor tower. It is only when he's lying in his four poster, staring at the ceiling that he suddenly realises something. The realisation makes him sit up in shock. I referred to her as my girlfriend. It was my subconscious, but still. Girlfriend. The term feels so new but somehow, he likes it. It is so strange though. He doesn't even know if she thinks of him that way. For that matter, he doesn't even know if he thinks of anyone that way. As for him, he has always known that there is no one else for him except her. He imagines holding hands with her when nobody is looking, sharing embraces under the tree near the lake, tucking back a lock of hair that tickles her cheek. Girlfriend. He would certainly like that. This time when they lie next to each other on the soft grass next to the lake, she is in a playful mood. Before he knows what she's doing, she grabs his wand (it has slipped out from his sleeve) and throws it into the lake. Aghast, he runs to the edge and jumps into the shallow depths of the marshy banks. The wand is retrieved easily enough, it hasn't even sunk to the bottom. Stuffing it into his breast pocket securely, he emerges to the surface, only to see her puzzled face staring at him. 'What's the matter? Why did you jump in, just to recover an old wooden stick?' she asks. Because this stick is my identity, it's a part of who I am, he wants to tell her, but then the adventurous side of him kicks in and he pulls her into the lake with him. She shrieks in delight as her body is drenched in no time. Her white skirt floats around her legs like a ghost and he finds that he just can't look away from the sight that beholds him. Her hair is plastered to her face and her eyes are still playful. Her lips are wet and parted and her clothes hug her torso like a second skin. In that moment, she looks so beautiful that he is lost for words. He wants nothing more than to taste her lips, to feel her small arms around him, cradle her face, whisper sweet nothings in her ear and hold her tight in such an embrace that she would never want to let go. She must have sensed the longing in his eyes because she takes a step forward and takes both of his hands in her small ones. Her touch does it. It sets free all his inhibitions and in a fit of desire he leans in and captures her lips with his own. It is both, nothing and everything like he has thought it would be. Shy, sweet and hesitant at first, it soon builds up into something deeper and they break apart, gasping for air. Her arms are around his neck and his around her waist. Overcome by shyness, she steps away from dress is now practically see through and she doesn't protest when he wordlessly holds out his still wet jacket for her and escorts her home. She thanks him with chattering teeth and promises to return his jacket later that day. He simply nods and kisses her cheek before walking away, pleased to see the flush that creeps up her face. It is the same evening that changes everything. She turns up at his house as promised, dressed in a pair of jeans and a fresh green blouse. Her hair is dry and her eyes are not playful anymore but he can't stop thinking of how pretty she looks in green. She enters his room without knocking (she never knocks and he always makes sure that there's nothing magical lying around the room) and rushes into his arms as soon as his door is shut. His forehead is leaning against hers and both of them have their eyes closed when he remembers something. His eyes snap open and he spots the transfiguration textbook still on his desk. Worse still, it is closed, with the golden letters embossed on the spine and cover jumping out to meet his eyes. Her gaze soon follows his and her eyes widen as she sees what he's looking at. The Standard Book of Spells : Grade 6 by Miranda Goshawk.

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