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...And Lockhart freezes.
Her thigh presses sensually against his, and-- no, no further.
He puts a hand on her shoulder and gently shoves her away, feeling very shaken.
“Miss Vane, I’m afraid I’m going to have to reassign your detentions to a different professor.”
Her face falls.
“But--”
“Do not misunderstand me,” he says. “I know you must be embarrassed. I will be alerting your head of house, as those are the regulations, but I will not do anything to mock you, nor will I treat you any differently in class.”
She blinks, and he sees a gold shimmer on her eyelids, and-- oh, his heart hurts, secondhand embarrassment curling up in his carotid artery and settling down to stay. She put on makeup for his detention. Gilderoy remembers that urge to impress, remembers how it consumed him when he was younger.
“I am an expert in defense, not in, uh, children, Miss Vane, but barring disagreement from Professor McGonagall, I’ll leave it up to you to decide who you will tell about this incident. If you are among those lucky enough to have parents you can trust, though, I recommend quite strongly that you tell them. They may not take it well at first, but they can help you. Alright?”
She nods miserably.
“Have you done something different with your hair?” Gilderoy asks, and then sort of wishes he hadn’t, because it would be very easy for her to misinterpret.
“Yes,” she says, voice small. “I-- I don’t-- I’m sorry!”
“You are young, Miss Vane, and there isn’t a single adult out there who didn’t make their fair share of mistakes while they were young. You will grow past this. I am sure of it. In the meantime... save that hairstyle for someone who can appreciate it, alright?”
He shoots her a dazzling smile, and she nods, sniffling a little and refusing to meet his eye. Ah, well. He supposes it’s just lucky she didn’t try any love potion-- speaking of which, he should probably dissuade her from the notion.
“I want to make sure you’re aware, Miss Vane, that all love potions are ruled by an equation that takes the age of the drinker and the age of the referent as inputs. A potion with a minor as referent will poison an adult unless the two subjects are quite close in age, as in the case of a seventeen-year-old and a sixteen-year-old. I know I look most youthful, but I assure you, I am far outside your age range where even the most lenient of love potions are concerned.”
Romilda Vane frowns, and Gilderoy does not like the calculating look he sees in her eyes.
“I wouldn’t--”
He can see her scheming. It’s unsettling.
“I do not know you, Miss Vane,” he says. “I do not know what you would or wouldn’t do. I only know what you have done, and I know it’s my job to ensure your safety. Poisoning a teacher would set back your schooling quite a lot.”
“Okay,” she whispers. She looks uncomfortable, but there is one last thing Gilderoy needs from her before he can escort her to McGonagall.
“Can I ask you a favour?” he says, catching her off guard with another sudden smile.
“Yes!” she says. “Anything.”
His smile falters; oh, what he would have done, at her age, to have a pretty girl try this hard to look good for him and promise him anything. She does not know what she is saying, and he would not have known what it meant back then. He did not understand responsibility. Perhaps he still doesn’t; he’s continued to spend time alone with her instead of going immediately to her head of house.
Perhaps if Romilda Vane had been in the same year as him, perhaps if she had kissed him then, he wouldn’t have felt as though he had to go to such lengths to prove--
She is waiting for him to speak, and these are creepy thoughts even though Gilderoy is only thinking them because he never quite left the second stage of grief (bargaining) after what happened to him-- after what he caused to happen to himself. Wrenching his thoughts away from past regrets, Gilderoy carefully assembles his request and then sends it out into the air.
“Do not try this with anyone else.” Her eyes widen, and he winces, understanding her misunderstanding almost immediately. “This age gap is outlawed for a reason. I will endeavor not to condescend to you, but it is imperative that you understand the danger you put yourself in tonight.”
She’s frowning, and just underneath the frown is a hint of stubbornness that frustrates Gilderoy.
Why, oh why, must children explore?
“Had I been anything other than the upstanding man I am, I could have hurt you badly, Miss Vane. I’m talking about the sort of pain that hurts everywhere, not just in your body, but in your heart as well. I’m telling you this because I think you’re mature enough to understand it.”
“But,” she says, brow furrowed. “You wouldn’t-- you wouldn’t hurt me, you--”
“Miss Vane, you know the law,” Gilderoy says. “You know that you would never be allowed to openly carry on a relationship with an adult. If I accepted, I would have to first ensure that you wouldn’t even brag to your friends; any one of them would be able to tell a teacher. I would also have to ensure you didn’t tell your parents. Do you understand where this is going?”
Romilda Vane thinks for a moment.
“You... It would have to be a secret. I know that! I can keep a secret!”
“You misunderstand,” Gilderoy says, struggling to keep his voice from sounding sharp. “I am not offering. It is not on the table. I am speaking in hypotheticals. Do you know what we call it when an adult encourages a child to keep secrets from their parents and friends?”
Romilda Vane grudgingly shakes her head.
“It’s called grooming,” Gilderoy says. “You should be able to tell your parents, when you find someone. You deserve to be able to brag to your friends. I am trying to explain to you that... if you make advances on an adult, that adult cannot accept them without doing things that would place him or her firmly within the category of people who shouldn’t be alone with children. Which brings me back to that favour you promised me.”
She makes a face.
“Okay?”
“Promise me you won’t offer any sort of romantic or sexual contact to an adult until you are an adult yourself.”
Romilda Vane glowers at his desk.
“Fine,” she says. “I promise.”
Looking at her, Gilderoy thinks it’s probably a 50/50 shot that she means it. Oh, well, that’ll have to do. It’s not as though McGonagall won’t be keeping an eye on her, after all. And he can look out for her too. It’s not as though whatever ‘curse’ there is on the Defense position could ever bring him down, ha ha!
She sniffles again, and Gilderoy heaves a sigh.
“Well, that’s the hard part over,” he says. “Let’s get you to Professor McGonagall, alright?” He checks his watch. “She should be in her office right about now. She’ll make everything better, you’ll see.”
“Fine,” Romilda Vane mutters.
The walk to McGonagall’s office is silent, except for some muffled noise from Vane that Gilderoy suspects might be sobbing. He doesn’t listen too closely.
“Alright,” he says, knocking on the door to Professor McGonagall’s office; it wouldn’t do to barge right in, Vane in tow, and interrupt a meeting with another student, who would of course wonder about Vane’s running eyeliner.
“Come in,” McGonagall says. Gilderoy opens the door a crack and peeks in; the office is empty aside from McGonagall.
“Good, you’re alone,” Gilderoy says, ignoring the arched eyebrow he gets in response and ushering in Vane. “Come on in, Miss Vane.”
McGonagall’s eyebrows raise higher at the sight of Romilda Vane, makeup a mess, face bright red.
“What is the meaning of this?” she asks, shooting a cold, scrutinising glare at Gilderoy as he backs away towards the door.
“Oh, Miss Vane can tell you,” he says, relieved-- this is out of his hands now, thank god-- but then Romilda Vane turns and looks at him pleadingly, and Gilderoy realises he really should be the one to explain, just to ensure that no details are left out. “Er- that is--”
Gilderoy sighs.
McGonagall’s eyebrows raise higher still.
“I scheduled a detention with Miss Vane for tonight,” Gilderoy says, lowering his voice as he shuts McGonagall’s door. “What privacy measures can you put in place, Professor McGonagall?”
McGonagall narrows her eyes and flicks her wand. Gilderoy shudders as he feels a ward go up, because he’s still touching the door.
He strides back over to the desk and pulls a chair out for Vane. He remains standing.
“As I said, I gave Miss Vane detentions for disrupting class, and the first of those was to be served with myself tonight. However, I no longer believe it’s a good idea for me to handle her detentions.”
McGonagall’s nostrils flare.
“Well, Gilderoy,” she says, and Gilderoy wrinkles his nose, “at Hogwarts we don’t shirk our responsibilities just because it can be difficult to deal with the more starstruck members of the student body, as you well know. If you gave her detention, you--”
“You don’t understand,” he interrupts, sort of desperate now, and McGonagall’s glare deepens-- she probably thinks Miss Vane is crying because he got angry with her for her questions about his exploits, which couldn’t be further from the truth-- “Listen. Miss Vane-- she-- she kissed me. I can’t-- I won’t do her detentions. It wouldn’t be appropriate. I can trade you for another student’s, or trade with anyone else who can take over, but I... I can’t be the one to supervise her.”
McGonagall’s expression turns carefully neutral.
“Of course,” she says, and Gilderoy thinks he could cry from relief. “You may go. Miss Vane, stay here.”
“Thank you,” Gilderoy says, wanting to make sure she understands the full magnitude of his gratitude. “I don’t-- I don’t have any idea how to handle any of this stuff. Thank you.”
“You may go, Gilderoy,” McGonagall repeats, and Gilderoy nods, already turning on his heel. He’s out the door before she can change her mind.
Minerva McGonagall studies the shame-faced child in front of her. Certainly, her reaction fits Lockhart’s story. But is that what really happened?
“Miss Vane,” she says. “Tell me what happened.”
Romilda Vane sniffles, and then sobs.
“P-Professor Lockhart already said,” she says.
“I would like to hear it from you,” McGonagall says. “He was not very generous with the details.”
“O-okay,” Vane says. “I-- okay. I put my makeup on before detention because-- because I wanted to be pretty, and he’s so handsome-- you know? I was trying to pick between lilac and gold eyeshadow since lilac is his favourite colour, but I like gold better-- I picked gold, since like, lilac makes my eyelids look pasty, and I don’t care how much he likes it, it’s just a bad colour for my skin tone!”
“Go on,” Minerva says, resigning herself to several more minutes of this rambling. If she wants any relevant details, she’ll have to let Vane give them along with a mass of irrelevant tangents and side-comments, considering her current distress.
“So like, yeah. I went with gold. I wasn’t-- I wasn’t going to kiss him or like, do anything, okay, I just wanted to-- to impress him? I wanted him to think I’m pretty, but I know it was bad and I shouldn’t have kissed him. I just thought-- I was feeling so good about everything, like I could get railed on a unicorn’s back and still get along with the herd--” Oh dear. Must she be so evocative? “-- but then he pushed me away and said--” she sobs-- “said he had to tell you because of regulations and-- and a bunch of stuff about how I shouldn’t come on to adults, and-- I’m not some kind of hussy! I know that! It’s just because it was him, and we were alone, and he was sort of humming to himself and his hair was a little messed up because it’s late and he just looked so, so pretty, like a real person who was tired and gosh, he’s even pretty tired, how is that fair-- and I kept getting distracted looking at him and I thought-- like, maybe if I kissed him... I’d be able to focus after that, if I just got it over with? I didn’t-- I wouldn’t have let him do anything else-- I mean I’d be thrilled if he wanted to, but-- but I want to be a unicorn handler when I’m older, so I can’t do any of that stuff.”
Minerva blinks. That all sounded natural enough that she’s pretty sure Gilderoy didn’t just bring Vane here to cover his own nefarious tracks.
“So you kissed Professor Lockhart,” she says, and Vane giggles.
“Sorry, sorry-- it’s just, that sounds like, like a title for a self-help pamphlet-- so you tried to snog your fit Defense Professor and he stomped on your heart and got really deep for no good reason, exposing himself as a closet nerd with an unfairly hot vocabulary, what now?” She giggles again, and then her expression sobers, and she looks at McGonagall guardedly. “Er... what now, Professor?”
“Deep?”
“Er, yeah,” Vane says, chewing on her lower lip with a frown. “He said, like, any adult-- he said grown-ups can’t do stuff with kids unless they’re tricky about it, and the trickiness means that any adult who would date me is just too Slytherin to bother with--”
“Did he say it like that?”
Vane snorts.
“Well, no, but I don’t remember all the words he used, and like, you know what I mean, right?”
“I suppose,” Minerva says with a sigh.
“A-and-- he said... He said this is the kind of thing that hurts-- um, hurts more than just your body, it hurts your heart too. And it was like...” she’s frowning, and Minerva sees a hint of determination-- stubbornness is what she’d call it if she were any less generous-- in her eyes. “Like he was sad. Like... like something happened to him and he was willing to go to any lengths, say anything to me, if it meant it’d never happen to me. It was... weird. Is he okay?”
“That is none of your or my business, Miss Vane,” Minerva says, and Vane’s stubbornness bleeds out onto the rest of her face now.
“But it-- he was so serious! And he-- he smiled, but it was just to make me feel better, he was so worried for me and I just felt so guilty the whole time because I’m-- I’m so stupid, thinking I could just kiss him when I’m--” she gestures at her body-- “and he’s--” she sighs, and throws her arms up, then lets them fall onto the desk and puts her head down on them. “Ugh.”
“Gilderoy Lockhart is an adult,” Minerva says. “He can handle himself. It is not your job to worry about him.”
“Well, I don’t care,” Vane says. “I’m worried. Professor, he-- he noticed I did my hair different! And said I should save the hairstyle for someone who can appreciate it but-- but-- there isn’t anyone else and he was so kind about it all and I love him. I’m in love with him. And he just-- he just thinks I’m a child! I know I shouldn’t have kissed him but it’s not fair! If he knows I’m mature enough to understand that-- that getting--” and here she whispers-- “raped--” Minerva’s insides turn to ice-- “would hurt in every last corner of my soul, then he should at least be able to see I’m mature enough to kiss whoever I want! I mean I don’t want to go around snogging every guy I meet, but it’s the principle of the thing.”
“Professor Lockhart spoke to you about--”
“Oh, he didn’t actually mention rape,” Vane says cheerfully. “He wanted me to understand that I put myself in danger when I kissed him, which is just silly, honestly-- he was a Ravenclaw, wasn’t he, I can just see it all over him-- like, that’s the whole point! Braving danger for the man you love is so romantic!”
“Risking your safety to kiss an adult is just reckless,” Minerva says sternly, and Vane falters. “I understand that you think Gilderoy is handsome, Miss Vane, but--”
“Ugh, I know!” she says. “I know I shouldn’t have kissed him, stop treating me like I’m five!”
Minerva just looks at her, one eyebrow raised, until she sighs, and slumps back onto the desk.
“Sorry,” she mutters.
“Miss Vane, you are not as mature as you think you are,” Minerva says bluntly, and then watches as Vane’s face closes off completely. “You didn’t like hearing that. Why?”
“You know why,” Vane says, glaring at the desk.
“I must be looking young today,” Minerva says dryly, and Vane looks up. “It has been decades since I was your age. Frankly, I don’t have a clue how it feels to be a teenager. I don’t know why that offended you. In my head, the conversation after that went like oh, you’re right, Professor, I’ll see you in class on Tuesday. I’ve been studying very diligently for the quiz and I can’t wait to demonstrate my immense progress since last class.”
Vane snorts.
“Your jokes are so lame,” she complains.
“You laughed, didn’t you?” McGonagall counters. “Anyhow, you do know more than me right now. You’re the only one in the world who knows every little detail of what it’s like to be Romilda Vane. So tell me. What are you feeling? Why is this... problem even happening?”
Vane makes a face.
“I... everything is just stupid,” she says. “Like... like I’m supposed to be good and follow the rules but I’m also supposed to be my own person. I’m supposed to make a lot of friends but also be careful to stay away from bad influences. And I just-- why tell kids about sex if you don’t want us to do it! It’s just gonna make me even more curious!”
“There is nothing wrong with being curious about sex,” Minerva says. “There isn’t anything wrong with thinking about it or wanting to do it.”
“Then why can’t I?” Vane says confrontationally. “I mean, aside from the unicorn thing. And the fact it’d be hard to play for the house team if I get shagged every night.”
Merlin.
“Well,” Minerva says cautiously. “...This might be tricky to explain. Do you pay attention in Potions class?”
Vane wrinkles her nose.
“I don’t want to shag Professor Snape.”
Oh dear.
“I should hope not,” Minerva says. “That is not what I mean. I’ll choose a different analogy. Do you remember learning to ride a broomstick?”
Vane smirks, and waggles her eyebrows.
“Ayyy...”
“Please just answer my question.”
“Yes, yes, I remember.”
“Alright,” McGonagall says. “Do you remember how you weren’t very good at it at first?”
“Yeah,” Vane says. “I was really shaky and I could never tell if I needed to hold tighter or loosen my grip, it was horrible.”
“Deciding whether or not to have sex is similar,” Minerva says. “It’s a skill you have to develop. It takes practice. You have to figure out how to balance everything about the decision, like whether you want it, if your partner wants it, what you want to do, whether you want to stop or keep going at any given moment. It isn’t as simple or romantic as people like to make it sound, especially when you’re first starting out.”
“Oh,” Vane says. “So then isn’t it, like, better to do it with someone who knows what they’re doing?”
“Not an adult,” McGonagall says. “It’s best to figure things out with someone you can be on equal footing with. If you try to do that with someone who already has everything figured out, then a lot of times you’ll just go along with what they say is best instead of sharing the decisions about what you do. You’ll feel pressured to go faster than you’re ready for because you don’t want them to see you as a child. Most importantly, you simply do not have enough experience to judge whether or not someone is hurting you-- do not look at me like that. Miss Vane, if I tried to drive a muggle car, I would crash it. This isn’t because I’m stupid or bad at doing things, but because I’ve never used one before, and even if I knew what each button and lever in the car did, I wouldn’t be able to recognise an impending crash in time to stop it. It takes practice to do things smoothly, and practicing such a vulnerable act with someone who isn’t very vulnerable at all would just make it harder to accept that you’re still growing. Miss Vane, if I don’t remember what it was like to be your age, what makes you think any other adult is any different? You felt offended when I said you were immature. You don’t like to be treated like a child, but any adult who is willing to have sex with you would not treat you like an adult either. If you insist on endangering yourself, you will still feel hurt and disregarded.”
“Should I be taking notes?” Vane says, and Minerva sighs.
“If you must,” she says. “Does this make sense? Am I getting through to you?”
“Sort of,” Vane says. “I dunno. I wouldn’t have had sex with him.”
“Regardless,” McGonagall says, “Do you understand now why it is bad when an adult tries to have a relationship with a child?”
“I mean, sort of,” Vane repeats. “I still think it’s kind of dumb.”
“Don’t you think someone would have proven it by now if it were possible for that kind of relationship to be healthy?”
Vane rolls her eyes.
“Half the wizarding world still thinks you can’t be gay,” she says, and Minerva senses a story behind the words.
“Oh? Who is half the wizarding world, Miss Vane?”
She shrugs.
“Just-- someone I know. My friend had a crush on me and my other friend told me about it and-- and now I can’t be friends with either of them anymore!”
“Why not?”
“Well Druletta broke the girl code and Scarlet-- I-- I can’t ever talk to a boy again once I know he likes me, unless I like him back, because it’s way too awkward. Just, boys aren’t usually my friends beforehand, so this time I’m mad about it. Druletta should have just kept her mouth shut! Everyone knows you can’t tell your friend’s crush anything about anything, it shouldn’t have been different just because Scarlet likes girls! And every time I see Scarlet I just-- oh god, she likes me and I’m the worst friend ever, literally. Because I-- I like girls too, but I don’t like her. And I don’t know why. I wish I could just make myself like someone, then me and Scarlet could date and you’d quit bothering me about kissing Lockhart. Like god, I’ve said a bajillion times I know I shouldn’t have kissed him but it’s like you’re not even listening. Whatever.”
“Would you date someone who didn’t listen to you?” Minerva asks, and Vane’s mouth falls open.
“Oh,” she says. “So I can’t mess around with grown-ups cus they’re all jerks who never listen? You should’ve just said that in the first place, it makes way more sense than the rest of the stuff you were trying to tell me.”
“Alright,” Minerva says dubiously, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Well, I’ll be owling your parents about this, but in the meantime you can go to your common room.”
Vane perks up, and doesn’t even try to argue about the owl-- Minerva should have realised right then that something was up. But she just watches, exasperated but strangely fond, as Vane leaves her office, and it’s only a half hour later that she realises she forgot to supervise the remainder of the girl’s detention. Oh, well.