Remus looked up at the building in front of him, the drab bricks illuminated in the haze of the street lights. There was only one light on in the terrace houses, giving him a reassuring sense that he wasn't going to be detected by muggles. He looked across the rain sodden road and stepped into it, his usually light footsteps reverberating off of the buildings and neighboring trees. As he approached Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the buildings in front of him appeared to shift, revealing a dreary building. As the house was revealed, a wide black door with a wrought iron knocker appeared. He stepped forward and climbed up the three steps to the front door. He hesitated none in unlocking the door with his cypress wood wand, hearing the single mechanism unclick. This was a new phenomena to him - when the war was in its heights there was every manner of protection on the building possible and it took several minutes to clear the boundary of the property; but now the war was well and truly over, the only people they needed to protect it from was muggles. With a nostalgic, happy sigh he proceeded through the door and down into the heart of the house: the kitchen.
The kitchen was cleaner, brighter and less busy than it ever had been. Kreacher the house elf had warmed sincerely to Harry since the height of the war and had become a really efficient cleaner. He was fairly paid (to Hermione's insistence), and was gifted with a set of robes that he can wear whilst cleaning; but on the agreement that being gifted the clothes does not set him free. It was Kreacher's pleasure now, it seemed, to clean and make the former Black residence as beautiful as it was in its former glory. His eyes swept across the gleaming surfaces and saw an abandoned roll of parchment. He stepped towards the counter and gently thumbed the parchment, noticing "Hermione Granger" written upon it. His eyes flitted across the elegant, scrolled handwriting and tried to decipher exactly what he was reading. It seemed like some disjointed thoughts, but he wasn't sure what they were and so didn't wish to pry.
When he planned his trip to Grimmauld Place, he wasn't sure whether anyone was actually there. He knew Harry was busy building a life with Ginny and his children, and that Ron was occupied helping his brothers run Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. After the war, there weren't many people left and fewer people that would be open to spending time in the place where many memories linger. He himself had a considerable amount of trouble distancing himself from the wall of grief that lay within the house, and that was truthfully what had prevented him from returning sooner. But a lot of time had passed since the end of the war and he finally felt ready to return to where he'd spent a considerable amount of time throughout his life. In fact, he missed it.
He progressed from the kitchen, leaving the parchment in its rightful place. Seeing the parchment with Hermione's name upon it had opened up a lot of questions for him: was she here? Was someone else here? He couldn't prevent the hope bubbling up inside of his stomach, his smile slowly building on his flushed features. He slipped off his traveling cloak and hung it on the serpent coat rack in the corner of the hallway, before turning on his heel and climbing up the stairs. He passed the faded patches of wall where various Black portraits use to be (they'd been moved to Kreacher's new bedroom), and climbed to the second floor. If he was going to satisfy his curiosity and find out whether Hermione was in the house, he knew exactly where to go: the library.
He crossed the threshold into the dimly lit room, the scent of soft vanilla candles mingling with the smell of old books. It was such a divine scent that if he were to be gifted amortentia, it would inevitably smell of this very library. He surveyed the room and laid eyes upon Hermione, sitting cross legged in the large leather armchair with an oversized tome resting upon her thighs, her soft skin illuminated by the low candle light. She was clad in a fluffy Hogwarts dressing gown and fluffy slippers, her hair tied in a loose bun atop her head, a few stray curls sticking up from it. His heart hammered heavily at the sight of her looking so relaxed, comfortable and tranquil.
"Hermione, hello!" He murmured into the quiet, his voice cracking lightly with anticipation. Through the years his voice had remained soft, light and gentle; mimicking his persona perfectly.
Hermione looked up from the book upon hearing the dulcet tones. She slipped a discarded strip of parchment to mark the page that she'd reached, her eyes surveying Remus. Her eyes trailed down his figure and noted that his brown slacks and cream shirt were in better condition than they had when she last saw him. Her heart filled with happiness at that realisation and she beamed up at him, sliding the book onto the armrest of the chair before standing.
"Hello, Remus," she said, a little too loudly, still somewhat taken aback at the sight of him.
"How are you?" He asked, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, pulling his crows feet into view.
"I'm well- I'm really well actually. I came here as a holiday, really. My parents memories have come back entirely now and the exhaustion of it all hit me now that I'm not focused on researching the workings of the mind… So I thought I'd step away from everything for a while. My parents understand, of course, and they're also very happily taking a holiday in order to compartmentalise everything that I've told them and the fragments that have come back together in their minds!" She paused, her brow furrowing lightly. "Merlin's beard, I'm so sorry! I completely ran off on a tangent. Gosh. How are you, Remus? What brings you here?"
Remus had begun to glow with happiness whilst listening to Hermione speak. She was one of the many people that he had lost touch with after the war and had wanted to catch up with; and the update she had just accidentally blurted to him had, unbeknownst to her, given him an intensely powerful burst of happiness.
"No, no, Hermione, please don't apologise. I'm glad that you've just told me all of that. I did, after all, ask how you are!" He chuckled softly. "I'm well. I wanted to come back here with a view to figuring out what to do in the future… I didn't realise you'd be here; I hope I'm not imposing on anything?"
"No, of course you aren't imposing! Don't be silly, of course you aren't. I think we both came here with the same idea, and it's honestly nice to have some company. This house feels too big to be alone in. Even though it isn't as creepy as it used to be, it is still wildly unsettling…" she emitted a nervous chortle, silencing herself upon realising that she had started to ramble once more.
Remus moved further into the room and sunk into the luscious sofa, stretching his legs out in front of him. He looked across to Hermione, who was slouched comfortably in the armchair, smiling tenderly at him. He mirrored her smile, comfort washing over him at the familiar company of Hermione. He had spent a lot of time with her during the war and their friendship had blossomed beautifully throughout the span of it. Though most of their meetings had been related to the Order of the Phoenix, there were several occasions wherein they shared more private discussions about their thoughts, feelings, and often merely about the books that they were reading. The two had found a common ground and they had begun to build some indestructible foundations for friendship. They both felt inherently comfortable around each other, and even though they had been apart for a while it was immensely easy to slip back into their old ways.
"I'm honestly glad that I came here tonight… I'm even happier that you happened to be here at the same time. I'd forgotten how nice it is to see a friendly face. I've been alone for weeks." He sighed softly, though his smile never faded, the fondness for Hermione escalating. "I've been working on my house in the countryside, but I think I'm ready to come back to civilisation." He chuckled gently, his eyebrows raising. "There's only so much chocolate a werewolf can eat!"
The sound of Hermione's laugh was like music to his ears. She tipped her head back and bellowed a joyous laugh. He beamed as she laughed and soon enough he couldn't stop his own laugh escaping him. He barked out a hefty laugh and shook softly with the amusement.
"I suppose you're right!" She laughed, her voice quivering with laughter.
The laughter died down shortly afterwards and they sank into silence once more. The only sound that could be heard throughout the whole house was the soft whistle of the wind that crept in through the gaps in the window seals. The candle beside them continued to burn, the scent delightfully filling the room, somehow making their reunion even sweeter. Though silence had fallen upon them, awkwardness didn't fill the room. It felt natural, comfortable even, and neither was in a particular rush to fill the silence. As the minutes passed, the comfort continued to build. They both shuffled in their seats, sinking into the plush blankets and pillows that had been brought into the room. It was, eventually, Hermione who broke the silence and Remus startled a little bit, despite the fact that he had been watching her intently.
"I've missed you," she whispered, her words etching themselves into the momentary silence that had fallen between them. The sharp intake of breath from Remus followed immediately after her words, penetrating the silence that had resumed.
He couldn't honestly believe that she was telling him that she'd missed him. Sirius was the last person to tell him that he'd been missed, and that was back when Remus was teaching at Hogwarts and had come to the harsh realisation that Sirius was, in fact, innocent. He had said it right before Remus had transformed into his lycanthrope counterpart, and the memory plagued him to this day. He hadn't managed to say it back, and had never told him. He liked to think that somehow, Sirius knew that he was deeply missed by Remus. Those years where Sirius was discussed in the news were the saddest times of his life. He was, after all, his very dearest friend. Being told he was missed by Hermione meant more to him than she could ever know. He breathed in deeply and attempted to combat the butterflies in his stomach.
"I've missed you, too, Hermione." His tone was soft, gentle and loving. His eyes glistened with months of unshed tears, the overwhelming emotion of reuniting with one of his favourite people filling him to the brim. He blinked softly, his smile slowly growing into more of a grin. "I really, really have."
They stared intently at one another, their eyes sparkling and bright smiles on their flushed faces. Remus was pondering how much he cared for Hermione and the undeniable attraction that had crept back into his heart after being near dormant for months. Hermione was thinking about her affection and the undeniable allure that she felt tugging her to Remus.
They were both thinking the same thing whilst sitting across from each other… And neither of them knew it.