How do these things happen? How do people grow so far apart without even realizing? How can a history of love be blown out like a dandelion clock, the seeds scattered by the wind?
A twenty-six year old Hermione Granger pondered these things as she watched the London streets pass her by, head resting against the cold, steamed over window of the Knight Bus.
A worn leather bag rested against her thigh, her hand gripping the strap protectively, although only a crippled, anemic older wizard accompanied her on the bus.
"'Ere you go, missy. Some chocolate will make you feel a'ight," a nasal, but not unkind voice interrupted her musing. A sad pair of sienna eyes blinked owlishly before focusing on the speaker.
Stan Shunpike, the bus conductor, appeared by her side holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate, his pimply face conveying genuine concern.
"Thank you…" she said, feeling distant and oddly disconnected. Mechanically she made to dig in her pockets for some change, but was stopped by a soft 'tut' from Stan.
"Nah, missy, the drink's on ol' Stan. You jus' looked in need of some cheerin'…"
The brunette took the cup and offered the fretting Stan a half-smile.
"How kind of you," she told him, looking away from his pleased expression. The lights in the bus flickered, momentarily casting everything in darkness.
"Bloody hell! Those damn lights…" grumbled Stan, and Hermione heard him clumsily stumble to the front of the bus.
Carefully cradling the hot cup of chocolate, she felt grateful for the warmth creeping into her icy fingers. She rested her head against the glass like before and looked out into the dark street.
With her thumbnail she traced the mug's rim, missing the jagged little chip.
A pair of wet, warm lips planted a wet, warm kiss on her cheek. Hermione squealed like a child and batted at the man sitting beside her.
"Remus! You're worse than Sirius, honestly!" she laughed, wiping at the chocolate stain on her face left by her lover. He peered at her from underneath his messy brown fringe and smiled apologetically.
"I'm sorry I chipped your favorite mug."
Hermione looked down at the mug in his hands, noticing the jagged little chip. She leaned over and kissed his nose.
"I like it better now."
Outside, piles of fall foliage were being swept up into the air as if kicked by an invisible, playing child. The red, orange and yellow crowns of trees and danced and bent in the wind.
Summer had slipped through her fingers like sand. Now a thick coat and woolen scarf hid her newly acquired sun-bronzed skin, protecting her from the biting September air. She sunk her fingers into the familiar wool, smiling at the memories the scarf brought up.
"So you don't freeze off that lovely neck of yours," teased Sirius in the deep, gruff voice she loved. His rough hands worked the soft garment around her neck, smoothing it out.
Bright blue eyes looked into sienna, shining with a question. She was all too happy to answer it.
"I love it, it's beautiful."
Hermione took a sip of the chocolate, grimacing at the sugary taste. It was already starting to cool, and now the benefit of warmth was gone she considered banishing the mug with her wand. She refrained, however, when Stan stuck his head out from the front and grinned at her.
She forced a smile and saluted him with the mug.
The Bus drove on, swiveling and bouncing unexpectedly; Hermione was rather fond of the Knight Bus' randomness. It was a crazy ride, but what she loved about it is that she expected it to be crazy. Though random, not a single bump or turn surprised her.
Despite the awful taste, the chocolate in her mug steadily emptied until the cup hung hallow from her finger.
The Knight Bus turned into a familiar street, and Hermione sighed against the pane of glass. She could already spot Number 12 Grimmauld Place, no longer hidden, looking much improved since the war but no less regal and intimidating.
The Bus jerked into a stop, waking the anemic wizard, who snorted and glanced around wildly before immediately falling back asleep.
Hermione irritably pushed a tangle of curls over her shoulder and picked up her bag. Stan was already waiting outside the Bus doors, looking eager.
"I'll 'elp you with your bag, Miss 'Ermione," he insisted, and Hermione, who was too tired to argue, dutifully handed him her baggage.
"Quite a heavy bag for such a small lass, good thing ol' Stan can't stand watchin' the ladies struggle, always a gentlewizard, 'ere we go…"
The two of them walked to the heavy front doors, where Stan reluctantly handed the bag back to it's owner.
"Thank you for all your concern, Stan," the brunette said softly and kissed one irregular, bumpy cheek.
"Aw, well, always a pleasure 'elping such a lady…" stuttered Stan, blushing to the last pimple. She smiled one last time and waved goodbye.
Entering the front hall, Hermione paused to listen for a sign of life. She could here the gentle clinking of dishes in the kitchen and a rock song playing somewhere upstairs.
"I'm home!" she called, dropping her bag on the floor and shedding her coat and scarf. Slipping out of her boots, she padded through the hall and peeked into the kitchen.
Hunched over the sink was the slender back of Remus, and she took the time to admire his handsome outline in the fading light.
Sensing someone's presence, the werewolf glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of her. His hands, covered in soap bubbles, stilled.
"Hermione!" he boomed, brilliant smile lighting up his face. Hermione dropped her bags and ran to him, jumping into his arms with a shriek.
The two stumbled around the kitchen, laughing and touching. Pulling away slightly, she cradled his face in her hands and beamed, features softening with tenderness.
"God, I've missed you," she whispered into his mouth a second before his lips crushed into hers.
"Hermione," he said, surprised. She smiled tiredly and entered the kitchen, grabbing a dry towel from the kitchen table.
"I'll dry," she offered, coming to stand next to him. Remus didn't answer for a moment, just looking down at her with a slight, thoughtful frown.
Hermione felt a spark of annoyance, and grabbed a glistening plate with a bit too much force.
"Nice to see you, too, love," she grumbled through clenched teeth, attacking the plate with the towel.
"It is good to see you," she heard him say quietly, in a voice she used to adore but now only irritated her.
"I can't hear you, Remus. If you want to tell me something speak up!" she snapped, glaring at him from behind a few wayward curls. He had looked away, his own fringe covering his eyes.
She sometimes wondered if their hair was a wall, shielding away their emotions and true thoughts. They hid behind it, as if nothing could get to them if they stayed behind a layer of hair, be it curly, wavy, straight, brown, honey, black.
"It's good to see you," he repeated a bit louder, staring into the mass of colorful bubbles, a thousand Remus' and Hermiones reflected back at him.
"I missed you, too," she whispered, suddenly wanting to cry or shout or laugh. She reached out and placed a hand on his forearm, wanting nothing more than to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him like she used to.
She felt soft fingertips touching her cheek and a moment later she was enveloped in cinnamon and old books, the scent surrounding her like a blanket.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm such an ass, I'm sorry…" was what Remus whispered into her ear, rubbing her back soothingly. After a few moments she pulled away, starting to feel uncomfortable. Her eyes were dry.
She smiled in forgiveness and grabbed another plate.
"Oh."
The sound made them look over their shoulders, where a disheveled Sirius stood in the doorway in nothing but red boxer shorts. His swarthy face was unshaven, raven locks a beautiful mess on his head.
"You're back!" he bellowed, pulling her to him like a superhero. Grinning like a saved damsel, Hermione wrapped her long around his neck and planted a wet, sloppy kiss on his jaw.
"How astute of you, Mr. Black," she teased, brushing a dark lock of hair from his blue, blue eyes. He waggled his eyebrows at her.
"I'm very observant, and I know a lot of other things. I know what ladies want…"
The brunette raised an eyebrow. "And what does this lady want?"
Devilish grin. "Some sugar."
"You're back," he said simply, voice gruff. She couldn't help but smile nostalgically.
"How astute of you, Mr. Black," she recited, and received a half-hearted chuckle. Sirius walked into the room and kissed her chastely. The stubble scratched her skin.
"Ow! If I needed to exfoliate I'd ask," she whined, rubbing her cheek. Laughing, the dark haired man tweaked her nose and moved to the fridge.
"But you don't even need to ask, I know when a lady needs exfoliation…"
"You always know what ladies want," she quipped and grinned, a grin which promptly turned into a massive yawn
"Someone's tired," teased Remus, but the humor in his voice sounded idle. Sirius's head disappeared into the refrigerator.
"Yeah, I had a long trip."
Neither responded.
"Well, I'm going upstairs. Goodnight."
Sirius, who had chosen yoghurt as his evening snack, had wrapped his arms around the werewolf's waist and was muttering something into his ear, causing the lycan to chuckle appreciatively.
Hermione stood there for a few moments, just watching the two of them.
"Ow, Remus, watch my ear…" she complained, rubbing at the sore spot where her lover had bitten it from behind. Sirius kissed it tenderly and started whispering sweet nothings, making her chuckle at the ridiculousness of them. Remus' arms wrapped around her waist from behind and nuzzled her neck with his nose. Sirius, to the front of her, rubbed her shoulders and kissed her forehead.
"I love you," she told them, and felt their arms tighten, felt safe and cherished and like it would never have to end.
"I love you," she told them. Neither turned around.
And neither did she when she walked back into the hall, slipped on her shoes, coat and scarf and walked out into the night, raising her wand to herald the Knight Bus.
How do these things happen? How do people grow so far apart without even realizing?
Sometimes, they just do.