A/N: I started this because the indomitable BehindtheBook08 couldn't find anything new in the Remus/Hermione section, and since she's such an incredible author and muse, I thought I'd write her a little gift. I find now that I have completely fallen in love with this little 'verse and its characters. There's fluff. There's angst, because it's still me, and there will always be angst. And there are unexpected ships. (Seriously, I don't even see them coming sometimes until I've written them.)
I hope my best muse enjoys what I've written for her as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
As always, I own nothing except for my small collection of words and phrases. All else belongs to the goddess Jo. In trying to keep this a semi-secret and gift for her, I have left this un-betaed, as usual. If you spot any mistakes, point them out so I can fix them, yeah? Thanks.
=========RL/HG=========
"In my life, I have loved two people, and both of them are dead. How I survived the war and they didn't is something I can't get past. I can't begin to comprehend it. I don't know that I want to, most days." He stopped and breathed in jaggedly. "But I have this other life for whom I'm responsible, and I try and I try and I try to be happy, for him if not for me, and some days it works. Some days I spend time with him and I forget, just for a few brief moments, that I'm supposed to be sad and broken, and I'm happy. His easy smiles infect me, and we laugh together, and it's good. I'm good.
"But inevitably, the moment passes and it all rushes back in as a flood, and I'm crippled all over again. I'm alone and destined to stay that way, because who could ever expect to have a love as strong as I've had even once in life, never mind twice. Three times is just asking too much."
The strawberry-blonde woman in the dark suit made notes on her yellow legal pad as she asked, "Do you think this is how they would want you to live? Floundering alone when there are people out there who care deeply for you?"
"I … I don't know. I know they would want me to be happier than I am, but I just can't seem to get there."
"Well, I think you've made the right decision in coming to me. We have a long way to go, Mr. Lupin, but I think I can help you. I'm going to start you on a mild potion that will stimulate the re-balancing of your brain chemicals. You'll take that every other day – with a meal if at all possible – and meet with me once a week for now. After three months, we'll re-evaluate and see if we need to make any changes at that point." She smiled warmly at him, her Muggle ink pen scratching on the prescription pad she'd pulled out.
"Is the potion approved for use on those who aren't fully human? I'm a Werewolf."
"Yes, it's perfectly safe for any number of intelligent races. Your infected status was in the records we pulled from St. Mungo's, so I've made sure to take that into consideration for all forms of your therapy and treatment."
"Oh, I see."
A manicured hand extended the prescription out to him, and he took it, nervously trying to read the scribbles on the small sheet of paper.
"Take that to any reputable Apothecary, and they'll give you a month's supply of the potion at a time. You mentioned you have a child?" He nodded. "It won't have too bad an effect if he gets ahold of it and manages to ingest a bit, but I would recommend keeping it out of his reach, just in case."
"Of course."
She stood and held her hand out. "Well then, Mr. Lupin, I will see you next week. Same time, hm?"
He took her hand and shook it briefly. "Next week then, Madam Chris."
He stepped from her office and looked blankly down at the prescription paper in his hand. When it came to putting any kind of potion into his body, especially one which was going to alter the chemical balance in his brain, there was only one person he trusted to make it. Concentrating with a grim look on his face, he disapparated, reappearing within seconds far to the north, just outside Hogsmeade Village. Quickly making his way across the little town, he ducked into the local Apothecary, a little bell jingling overhead as the door swung open and closed.
"Be out in just a second!" A friendly voice called out breathlessly.
Without responding, Remus absently perused the shelves, picking up a scoop of dried beetle's eyes and listening as they clinked on their way back down into the large glass jar that held their compatriots. Moving silently through the shop, his dark eyes ran over the stock of ready-made potions for headaches, mild muscle aches, burn pastes, boil cures, Pepper-Up, and calming draughts.
"I'm so sorry," the friendly voice came closer, getting louder. "I was bottling up a fresh batch of … Remus! I didn't realize it was you!" A broad smile beamed from the voice's owner, happiness shining from her brilliant brown eyes. Hermione Granger swept around the counter and pulled her friend into a tight hug, pressing her face into his warm robes, and inhaling the scents of spice and chocolate that surrounded him.
He patted her back awkwardly, holding the hug for only a moment before stepping back and breaking it off. She moved back around the counter and leaned on it, eyes twinkling in delight at seeing Remus show up in her shop. "What brings you in today, Remus? It's not time for your Wolfsbane again yet, is it?"
He slid the paper across the counter toward her. "No, not yet. I… I took your advice. Well, the advice you and Minerva pushed on me. I've just come from my first appointment with this Chris woman you two thought would be able to help me. She's suggested a potion regimen as well as weekly meetings to see if I can't begin to cope with everything finally."
Hermione was surprised he had actually made the appointment and kept it. Since Tonks had died five years earlier, he had taken his reclusive personality and taken it to an entirely new level, only coming out occasionally because of Teddy.
In the absence of Severus Snape following the war, the survivors had been in desperate need of a competent brewer for Hogwarts' Hospital Wing and for Madam Pomfrey, the school's Medi-Witch who had served so many members of the Order, so Hermione had taken an accelerated course in Potions, earning her Mastery in a third the normal time frame. By the time the school had reopened, she had founded her own Apothecary in Hogsmeade, buying out the Honeydukes building so they could relocate to a bigger and better location, and provided Poppy with all the potions she needed at a reduced rate. She and Minerva McGonagall, the new Headmistress of the school, had become close over the years, bonding over the losses they'd both suffered.
For a while, her studies had been able to keep her grief at bay, but once those were over, and she was left alone in the silence of her lab, it had all caught up to her. The loss of her best friends on top of the others from the Order who had been taken in the final battle had put her in a precarious place, mentally, and if it hadn't been for Minerva, who decided to randomly pop in to check on her former prized pupil, she might well have taken her own life.
After that night, she had been forcibly taken to Madam Chris by Minerva, who understood all too well what happened to people in the aftermath of war, and over time, Hermione had begun to get better. Verbal therapy in combination with a potion, not unlike the one for which Remus had just given her his order, had slowly brought her back, and now, she had more good days than bad ones, and even the bad ones weren't quite so bad as they were before. When she and Minerva had realized just how bad Remus had gotten, they had come together and insisted that he make an appointment.
"I'm glad you went to see her. She really helped me, and I'm sure she can do the same for you." She reached across the counter and laid her hand gently on top of his.
"I don't know that I deserve it for myself, Hermione, but to try and give Teddy a better father, I'll do anything. He deserves that much from me since I can't give him his mother."
There was a haunting hidden far in the depths of his eyes, his raw and damaged soul showing with a dull glimmer. Squeezing his hand with hers, Hermione wanted to cry at the pain she saw, remembering when she was younger and his eyes had still glittered darkly with understated happiness. Before the debacle in the Department of Mysteries which claimed his first love, and before the final battle that had claimed his second. She wished she could see the love pouring from his eyes again someday, like it had in the brief moments she had seen him with Sirius and later, with Tonks.
Pulling her hand back, she cleared her throat and picked up the prescription. "Alright, well, I'm running a bit low on this one right now, but I think I have enough on hand to last until the beginning of the month, and then you can come back and I'll have a full month's worth waiting for you."
"That's fine, Hermione. Whatever you can do. You're the only one I'd trust to make me any kind of potion. Too many others out there would hold my, my … furry little problem," he smiled a narrow, sad smile, remembering how many times his friends had called his Lycanthropy by that name, "against me."
"It's amazing how many people can't see past that." He watched as she bustled around, filling a box with half a dozen little bottles of potion, making sure they were protected against breakage with little cardboard separators fitted between each one. "Speaking of which, you've got only a couple days until the full moon. Did you want me to go ahead and get your Wolfsbane today, or would you rather come back closer to time?" She slid the little box of potions across the counter and looked up at him curiously.
"I'll come back. These may not be toxic if Teddy got ahold of one, but the Wolfsbane is a completely different story. I don't want to keep it in the house with him there."
She nodded. "I understand. I'll have it ready for you in two days then."
"Thanks, Hermione. You're a good woman. I wish … I wish they had all survived to see how wonderfully you've turned out." They shared a look of mutual pain and understanding, both having lost entirely too many friends to Voldemort and his sick, power-hungry followers.
"Me, too, Remus. Me, too."
There was nothing more to say after that, and he left the shop, heading back to the little cottage he'd inherited from his dad, which he now shared with his five-year old son, Teddy. After their dinner of spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread, which was one of Teddy's favorite meals, Remus took one of the little bottles down from where he'd stashed them, far out of his son's reach, and watched as the pale blue liquid swirled around innocuously inside the clear glass container. He twisted the cap off the top and downed the potion, surprised at the pleasantly mint-like flavor. He'd expected something far more gruesome after a lifetime of "no you can't make that potion taste like anything other than reamed arse because 'nice' flavors mess up the efficacy of the other ingredients."
Replacing the bottle in the box to be returned to Hermione when he went back, he yawned and ruffled his own hair with one hand before going about his normal routine for bed. Half an hour later, he was washed, his teeth had been cleaned, and he was dressed in a light-weight pair of pajamas. It took an hour to accomplish the same for Teddy, but after being dressed in his favorite jammies with little cowboys and horses and lassoes all over, Teddy was tucked into his bed, and Remus sat in his chair to read the next chapter in their latest nightly-reading project.
"The afternoon dragged slowly by with Fred crouching, as he was, in the top of the tree and waiting for the time to come when he might descend and make the attempt to rejoin his friends, who could not but be greatly concerned over his absence. At rare intervals, the spiteful crack of a rifle reached his ear as before, and he knew that the white and red men were watching each other, both ready to seize the first opportunity that might offer for obtaining the slightest advantage. The occasional clamping of the hoofs of a galloping horse showed, too, that his dreaded foes were close at hand."
Remus had quite a nice reading voice, and he tried his best to use different tones and pitches and speech patterns for each individual character when there was dialogue, and when he'd finished two chapters of Edward Ellis' In the Pecos Country, Teddy was nearly asleep. Marking his place, Remus set the book aside and pulled the blanket up, brushing a lock of hair that was currently the color of straw off his forehead and back with its fellows. He pressed a light, gentle kiss to his head and whispered his love to his son.
"Love you, too, Papa." The rounded face of the boy opened and stretched in a deep yawn, his eyes fluttering closed. "G'night."
Remus made his way to his own bed, and as he laid in the still, quiet darkness, his mind began to drift away to another time, another life. His dreams were filled with flashes of arrogant faces, both before and after he'd decided that he needed the beard. There were glimmers of sweat beading off a smooth chest in the firelight, and the feel of fingers digging into his back, hoarse screams echoing off stone walls. There were eyes that could change color at will, framed with soft hair in hot pink, electric blue, neon green, brilliant blonde, and on special occasions, her own natural brown, which was the most beautiful of all. He remembered, in his dreams, alternating memories of his hands running up the toned, flat muscles and chest of his first lover, and the fleshy softness of his second. So different, and yet so alike in how much he had worshipped them, loved them, and later on, in how he lost them.
As he lay there sleeping, his fitful dreams were leaking out in the form of tears. He woke early the next morning, emotionally worn out, fighting the pull of the upcoming full moon, and with a pillow that was soaked clear through. He wished it was an uncommon occurrence, but it was not.
=========RL/HG=========
Over the next six months, things got marginally better for Remus. He continued to take his potion every other night, and kept up with his weekly visits with Madam Chris. Twice a month, he popped into Hermione's Apothecary shop and picked up his supply of potions, bringing back the empty bottles to be sterilized and reused.
Three months into the therapy process, his potion dosage had been upped just slightly, but his progress was good. On his six month reevaluation visit, Madam Chris had told him that while he was doing well, he needed to get out of his house and socialize with more than just his son if he wanted to continue his upward mobility. Too much time left alone and brooding over what he'd lost wasn't doing him any good. She suggested he find one or two friends who didn't make him feel worse about himself, and try to spend time with them once or twice a week. The decreased solitude would help, and if he chose the right friends, perhaps he could finally start to see that there was more to life than living in his memories of the past.
Thinking of the people in his life, the only ones he thought he could bear to spend that kind of time around without driving himself and the friend both crazy were Hermione and Minerva. Both of them knew what he was going through, and would be willing to help him out, and would probably be very happy for the time spent with him.
And thus began the next stage of his recovery. On Monday nights, he met with Minerva up at the castle. They would share a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits, and would talk about the students' antics, the creativity of the current professors in how they doled out punishment, and they spent much time laughing at the things the Marauders used to get up to when they were still at Hogwarts.
The memories of that time were still bittersweet, as he was still mourning the long-ago losses of James and Lily, and the more recent deaths of Sirius and Harry. He even felt bad for Peter, and the way his life had ended. Whatever else had happened between them all, Peter was once a happy boy, filled with the same flair for mischief as James and Sirius, and had been an integral part of their group of friends. He still didn't know exactly what had caused Peter to defect to Voldemort's side, but he had once been one of Remus' best friends at one time, and that connection never quite left his heart.
However, the longer their discussions went on, the more Remus began to find that it didn't hurt as much to talk about them as it once had.
They were sometimes joined in their tea by other Professors. Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout came up together a couple times, Hagrid had been by once on other business before taking up a seat and a cup on Minerva's invitation, and once, Sybill Trelawney had come down from her tower in search of a dose of sleeping draught. It was one of a handful of times he had ever seen the Divination professor without the stench of incense or sherry clinging to her, and he was surprised to see the same haunted look in her blood-shot eyes that others claimed to have seen so often in his own. Minerva had firmly pressed a little vial into her hand, and offered her a cup of tea that the purported Seer had declined, asserting that it would interfere with her potion.
Remus remembered hearing about Minerva's staunch defense of the woman during Umbridge's tyrannical reign over the school, and after she had breezed from the room, clutching tightly to the precious bottle in her hand, Minerva had explained how her family had been wiped out early in the first war, back when he'd been a scrawny third-year. Sybill had never had much of a talent for anything, and barely scraped by with a few Acceptable NEWTs. Without her family around to help her, she'd been on the verge of giving in when she'd applied for the Divination post, and Albus had not been inclined to hire her – or even to keep the class itself on the curriculum. Nobody had known just how much the job had meant; it had been her last straw of hope, and if things had turned out differently – if she hadn't given the Prophecy that eventually spelled the deaths of both Voldemort and Harry – she had been ready to end things.
Minerva hadn't always had the most patience with the woman, but over several conversations and through the interference of the woman Hermione had taken to calling "The Toady Umbitch," Minerva had finally realized what had been going on for all those years, and had taken the woman under her wing. She was still inclined to self-medicate with sherry, and Minerva couldn't force her to go see a therapist, but having someone she could talk to when things got too bad was slowly beginning to help, as did her growing tendencies to come ask for a sleeping potion instead of drinking herself into oblivion.
And if she sometimes couldn't wait until she got back to her own rooms to down the potion and fell asleep on Minerva's sofa, neither woman found that they minded. Nor did Minerva mind moving the unconscious woman through the doorway into her own bed to sleep it off. It didn't appear that either one of them was bothered by waking up curled together the following mornings, hands and arms and legs intimately intertwined. Neither quite knew what to make of their little morning moments, but both were chalking it up to too many years alone or the cold castle causing them to seek out warmth or the basic human need to feel the touch of others. Neither was ready to make any reference to the calm happiness they felt when wrapped up in each other, but it wouldn't be long in coming if things continued on their current course.
Of course, Remus had no knowledge of any of that. He only knew the women had a growing friendship, and it made him happy to know that Sybill was beginning to work through her own grief as he was doing, even if they employed completely different methods.
Those were his Monday evenings, when Teddy stayed with his grandmother, Andromeda Black Tonks. Wednesday afternoons were his meetings with Madam Chris. His Friday evenings were spent with Hermione, Teddy coming with him to visit his 'Aunt Miney.' Hermione would cook them a nice meal, put on a cartoon or movie for Teddy on her movie-disc thing (whatever happened to tapes? he wondered), and the two of them would sit and slowly drain a pot of tea or the occasional bottle of wine as they discussed academia, potions research, the latest gossip about their shared friends from the Order, and anything else that sprang to mind.
Some nights, Teddy would fall asleep in the brightly-colored bean-bag chair that Hermione kept just for him, or sometimes, Remus would find that he'd had too much wine to safely get them home, and Hermione would transfigure the little bean bag into a comfortable bed that was just Teddy's size, and Remus would take the bed in her guest room. Inevitably, the following morning, both members of the Lupin family would wake to the tantalizing scent of frying bacon and hot pancakes – chocolate chip for Remus, who had never lost his affinity for chocolate, blueberry for Hermione, and banana-nut for Teddy. There were glasses of cold orange juice – neither Hermione nor Teddy cared overmuch for pumpkin juice – and a small pitcher of warmed maple syrup to pour generously over their pancakes and bacon.
Hermione would smile at him warmly from across the table, and he brushed aside thoughts of how perfect those Saturday mornings were and how something had begun to flutter deep within him; something that hadn't fluttered for years. It was something he never thought would flutter again, and was it even really possible? No, it wasn't. Once had been a miracle. Twice had been earth-shattering. Three times? That was beyond all probability.
Even if he felt this fluttering, there were no assurances that she felt them as well. It was an exercise in futility to allow any thoughts of anything happening, because it was impossible. He was nineteen years older than her, and with a child to support. They were both grieving lost loves and lost friends and lost families and lost futures. But … wasn't there some Muggle saying about how the third time was the charm? No, three times was asking too much.
=========RL/HG=========
At his one-year reevaluation with Madam Chris, she smiled enigmatically at him and told him that he was doing much better. By his own admission, he was spending less time focused on the losses of Sirius and Tonks, and more time focused on Teddy and his visits with Hermione and Minerva, and on the positive areas of his life. He was thinking more about the future he had with his now six year old son, and less about the past and its horrors. His weight was picking up a bit, as his better mood made him avoid food less, and his gaunt figure was filling out nicely, making him look and feel healthier. Developments in the process of making Wolfsbane had resulted in easier transitions, and the ability to at least keep his own mind, so he didn't spend three nights a month ripping his body to shreds to keep from hurting someone else.
Things were getting better. He still had a long way to go, and she wanted him to keep taking his potion, but she could see all the obvious markers of progress, and she told him he should be proud to have come so far in only a year. She was changing their schedule to only one visit per month instead of the weekly meetings they'd previously had.
He left her office, and found that his thoughts were firmly centered on Hermione, a smile forming on his face. He wanted to share his good news with her. He wanted to share more than that with her, but it was an impossible situation, for more reasons that he could possibly give voice, but never had improbabilities or impossibilities stopped Cupid from flinging his arrows about. Pushing those thoughts and the flutters aside yet again, he apparated to Hogsmeade and trekked over to her shop.
He stepped through the door, and the bell jangled loudly overhead. He took the few steps toward the counter, his heart light and truly joyful for the first time in years. The sight that greeted him when he rounded the last shelf, however, rather than bringing back the little flutter that had been growing stronger, caused it to stop abruptly. Shoulder-length hair, in a shade that could only ever be described as Weasley-red, was brushing at Hermione's cheek as they kissed furiously, his hands braced on the wall behind her, and her hands fisted tightly in the material of his cloak.
A choking sound left Remus' throat, and he turned on his heel, leaving without a word or another sound, apart from that jingling bell hung over the door. He stalked out into the street, hands bunched into fists so tight that all his knuckles had turned white, and jaw clenched, a vein bulging angrily from his temple.
How could he be so stupid? He knew three times wasn't the bloody damn charm. He knew three times was asking too much. He fucking knew better, but he'd still dared to hope that maybe, someday there could have been something. Hot tears flowing over his cheeks and dripping from his clenched jaw, he apparated home, his passage only marked by the loud crack that the breaking of the speed of sound always caused when the magical form of transportation was used.
=========RL/HG=========
The second time the bell sounded, Hermione pulled back from the kiss. "Did you hear something?"
"No."
"I could have sworn I heard something." She pushed her way out of his arms and swept out into the main floor of the shop. The bell over the door was almost still, but there was some residual vibration yet going on. "I knew it." A feeling of foreboding washed over her as the lingering scent of spice and chocolate teased her nose before dissipating. "Shit. SHIT!" She rushed out the door just in time to see Remus disappear loudly from the street, tension written in his form. "Fuck!" She turned and stormed back into the shop, eyes blazing and hair beginning to fluff and frizz away from her head, filling with little sparks of electricity.
"This is all your fault, George."
"How is anything my fault? Can I be held accountable that you've been using me to get rid of your sexual tension for the last three years? You knew I was coming today, why didn't you lock up the shop when I got here instead of leaving it open for someone to walk in?"
"George, it was Remus, and he saw us."
"Shit."
"Now do you understand my reaction? It's all your fault." Her hands were opening and closing, over and over, the blunt tips of her fingernails digging into her palm with every closure. The electricity was still arcing through her wild hair at random intervals, but the fire was beginning to leave her eyes, leaving behind ash and destruction.
"I kissed you, Hermione, because you were hysterical when I came in. You were worried about him finding out about the arrangement we've had. You're so worried about what Harry and Ron would think about your growing feelings for a man about whom they both cared very deeply. You let yourself fill up with worries and fears, and this thing that we have? It clears your mind for a while.
"That's what you always tell me, right? That I'm the perfect person for this, because no matter how much you love me as a friend, and no matter the physical nature of our friendship, we both know it could never be more. I'm still too wrapped up in my own grief over Fred, you're too wrapped up in your grief for Harry and Ron, so we can help each other untangle once a week? I come in, you're worried and tangled up in the past, and this is how we deal with it. We kiss. We cry. We fuck. And then we never, ever talk about it, because that's just how things are with us.
"And I'm okay with that. Really, I am. But it was always going to have an expiration date. I love you, Hermione. You were never destined to be mine forever, but I'm thankful for what I've been given." He had slowly been closing the distance between them, seeing all the signs of her anger, but also seeing the hurt beneath. He reached one hand up and gently cupped her jaw, tilting her head up and forcing her tear-filled eyes to meet his. "Is today the day it's finally over?"
"I think it has to be, Georgie." Her tears grew into body-wracking sobs as she thought about ending what she and George had, and how it may have put a stop to anything that might have been in the works for her and Remus.
Feeling sad at the thought of having to try and cope without her, and knowing what she was feeling, George pulled her back into his arms, wincing at the force she put into her grip of his waist as she buried her face in his robes, soaking them through. Knowing she wouldn't be good for anything else for the rest of the day, he waved his hand and wandlessly locked the shop's door, turning the sign from the "Open" side to the "Closed" one.
=========RL/HG=========
Friday night came, and Remus didn't show up. Worried about him, and feeling a compulsive desire to explain herself, Hermione sat down and began to write him a letter. An hour and several sheets of parchment later, she rolled up her note, shrank it, and attached it to her owl's leg, sending it off to his cottage.
=========RL/HG=========
"Papa?" Teddy's voice made its way through the fog that had surrounded Remus' mind the last couple days.
"Yes, son?"
"Why aren't we going to Aunt 'Mione's tonight? She was supposed to have the new Shrek movie, and I was gonna get to watch both of them."
Because I was falling for her and she was kissing someone else and I can't bring myself to face her just yet. How do I explain this to my six year old son?
The silence stretched between them, and Teddy crawled and wiggled his way into Remus' lap as he thought. One small hand reached up and patted his father's scarred cheek. "Are you sad again, Papa? 'Cause if you are, we should definitely go see Aunt 'Mione. She always makes you happier."
A single tear beaded its way down his cheek until it met with the edge of Teddy's finger. "I am sad, Teddy, but Aunt Hermione can't help this time. Maybe next week you can watch Shrek, but for tonight, we're just going to stay home."
Teddy's natural eyes, the exact shade his mother's had been when she wasn't glamouring them up with her abilities, searched those of his father. Seeing the pain within, he nodded and jumped down. "Can we have pizza for supper?"
"If that's what you want. I hadn't thought about it yet."
"Yeah, I want pizza. With all the meats on it like you like it. And can we play a game while we eat? If we can't go see Aunt 'Mione to make you less sad, then maybe some games and pizza will help."
Remus was touched by his son's attempts to cheer him up. "Are you sure you want it with all the meat? I thought you liked it with just cheese." For the first time since Wednesday, his lips quirked up in a smile as he joked with Teddy.
Teddy pondered for a minute, his tongue peeking out from between his twisted lips, one hand on his hip and the other rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe you could get your stuff on half and just cheese on the other half?" It was a good compromise, he thought.
"Excellent idea. I'll go order the pizza, and you go pick out the games you want to play." Maybe the smile didn't come as easily as it would have before Wednesday's revelations, but it did make an honest appearance at the exuberance Teddy displayed at getting a night with pizza and games and his dad.
They spent the evening playing Chutes and Ladders and Candy Land and Memory, followed by a few hands of Old Maid and Go Fish. They ate their pizza and drank apple juice with it, even though Teddy begged for soda instead.
Just after Remus finished tucking his son in for the night, he heard the tapping of an owl at the window. Before going to retrieve the missive, he knew it was from Hermione, and didn't know what to do about it. He slouched as he exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, his feet nearly dragging as he slowly made his way to the window to let the bird in. He fed it a treat as he pulled the miniaturized letter from the pouch attached to its leg, and then sent it back home.
He sat and read through the short letter, fingers mindlessly caressing the words she'd penned in her cramped, tiny handwriting. When he was finished, he folded the parchment carefully and tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt before ducking into the kitchen. On the anti-depressant potion, he tried to avoid alcohol for the most part, only really imbibing in the rare bottle of wine he would share with Hermione during their weekly discussions, but after the pizza and the week's heartache and the letter he'd just read, he needed a beer. He pulled one from the refrigerator, twisted the cap off the dark glass bottle, and leaning back against the kitchen counter, he took a long pull of the carbonated, alcoholic beverage, eyes closed.
As the dark flavors of the yeast and the hops washed over his taste buds, he slouched even further than before, and his free hand reached up to rub the high planes of his face. He took another sip and reclined his head, descending into thought.
He understood where Hermione was coming from. He'd nearly forgotten what his bits were actually supposed to be used for in the six years since his wife had been killed, but although he hadn't experienced much desire in that time, he remembered the rush of release that had come from the physical expression of love, and he didn't blame her for having sought it out with someone willing and able to give her what she needed without saddling her with things – with commitments – that she didn't need. It was quite understandable. He got it. But he wasn't happy about it.
Over the last several months, he had begun to see Hermione as his, and while he didn't blame her for what she'd been doing – with GEORGE of all people – it made him sad that it hadn't been him who had been there for her.
He took the last swallow of his beer and tossed the empty bottle into the garbage. Reaching for another, he removed the cap and took the new bottle into his bedroom. There was a comfortable chair there beside a picture window, and he sank bonelessly into the seat, continuing to think as he sipped.
The moon flitted out from behind a cloud, and he was reminded that he would have to see her soon for his potion. He would need to talk to her before the week was up, at least to make arrangements for Teddy. It wasn't fair on him if Remus maintained his distance. But for tonight, he thought, he was just going to drink his beer, sit in his chair, and think.
=========RL/HG=========
"Remus, is everything alright?" Minerva's words held a gentle overtone of sympathy, worry, and love.
"I'm not sure, if I'm being honest with you. Things were going really well. Madam Chris said I'm making progress, and has decreased the frequency of our meetings, but then…" His words tapered off and he sighed deeply.
Minerva, having already heard Hermione's side of things, debated on whether or not to reveal her knowledge. Watching as his hands ran repeatedly over his face as though scrubbing it clean of what he'd seen, she made her decision.
"But then … Wednesday happened, aye?"
His head shot up, making frantic eye contact. "She told you, then?"
"Rather unwillingly, yes. I didn't hear from her all day Saturday or Sunday, so I popped down to check on her last night. She's a mess, Remus. She…" Minerva's soft words were interrupted when Sybill stormed into the room, stamped over to where Minerva kept her stash of sleeping potions, snatched one up and took it with her when she stalked toward Minerva's bedroom, a curious eye turned to the suddenly nervous and sputtering form of the school's stalwart Headmistress before disappearing into the darkened room.
"I'm not waiting long, so hurry up." Her voice drifted from inside, all manner of wistfulness and whimsy normally present during her classes gone, leaving only a tired determination.
"I'll be right there, dear." She turned her head back, facing Remus' shocked features, and shrugged. "What can I say, Remus? The heart wants what it wants, and I find that after so many years of disregarding her, pushing her aside, poking fun at her, and being generally nasty to and about her, she's what my heart wants. I am incredibly lucky that she feels the same after the way I've treated her."
"I'm happy for you, Minerva. You deserve all the happiness in the world."
"Thank you. I'll obviously have to make this quicker than I was planning, but go see her. You've plenty of time before you have to go pick up Teddy from his grandmother's house. Go now." She whispered a few words, and Remus could feel magic shifting around him. "I've temporarily granted you the ability to disapparate from the grounds. You may leave from here and be there almost immediately. Go. You two need to talk face to face and without your son present to overhear." She stood and snapped her fingers, watching as the remains of their tea disappeared back to the kitchens where the House Elves could take care of it.
He was confused and sad and while he knew he needed to talk to Hermione, and that Minerva was right about this being the perfect time, he wasn't sure he was ready. However, he couldn't say no to the generous gift she'd just given him, so he stood and began to thank her. Before he could utter even a sound, he was halted by her upraised hand, palm outward and facing him.
"Don't thank me, and don't waste your time saying goodbye. Just go, Remus. I'll see you next week. You have about five minutes before the wards snap back and you'll have to walk, so get going." Without waiting for a response, she turned and disappeared into her bedroom, following Sybill.
He was still a bit stunned by the revelation and by her decision to send him down to talk to Hermione. He would never have thought Minerva and Sybill Trelawney, of all people, would pair up, but he'd seen the soft look in Minerva's eyes as she'd watched the other woman sweep through her rooms, and it had been an undeniable look of love and adoration. Good for them.
"Now, Lupin! We ladies need privacy. Get out." He grinned bashfully at the sharp reproach barked out by the Divination instructor through the door.
"Sybill! Be nice! But yes, Remus, now would be a grand time for you to disappear." Minerva's pleasant voice rose in pitch, squeaking off into a high-pitched moan as the last word exited the room.
Blushing at the implications of that sound, he disapparated with a very loud crack, signaling to both of the apparently very busy witches that he was gone.
=========RL/HG=========
Appearing on the outer edges of Hogsmeade, he took a moment to gather his thoughts. Not wanting to interrupt anything else, he sent off a Patronus message asking if it was a good time. He walked slowly in a circuitous path that would vaguely take him around by her shop and the flat above it where she lived at some point. Minutes later, his wolf came running back, delivering her reply that yes, it was a perfect time. He smiled as the silvery creature vanished when it was done. Of course she would be able to commandeer his Patronus. She was Hermione-bloody-Granger, and there was nothing she couldn't do.
He picked up his pace, continuing to think on what he'd seen and the contents of the letter she'd sent on Friday. Soon enough, he was at the base of the staircase behind the shop that led up to her flat. Breathing in and out deeply to gather his courage, he began climbing the stairs, methodically pumping his legs to lift him higher and higher, ever closer to his goal. His hand hadn't had a chance to even knock when the door swung inward, revealing a version of Hermione that he'd never seen leaned against the edge of the door, one hand gripping tightly to the doorknob, the other fidgeting in an attempt to rest on her hip.
Her wild hair was barely tamed back in a low bun, there wasn't a speck of makeup on her obviously freshly-scrubbed face, and there were signs of bags under her downcast red-rimmed eyes, betraying a lack of good sleep recently. She was biting nervously at her lip, worrying the soft flesh between her blinding white teeth. She was wearing a grey ribbed tank top, and the straps of what he thought was called a sports bra were peeking out on her shoulders. Her bum was barely covered by a pair of short black boxers with the elastic waistband folded over. Her feet were bare, one fidgeting nervously on top of the other. It was the most unkempt and least pretty he'd seen her, and yet in that moment, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"Are you coming in?" She sighed and made a conscious effort to remove her lip from her teeth.
"Yeah. Sorry." He ducked through the open doorway into her entranceway, which led into the dining room.
She closed the door and walked past him, through the dining room and into the kitchen. "Tea?"
Things were so stilted and uncomfortable; he didn't think the air between them had ever been so stiff, even back when she'd been fourteen and he'd been her Defense instructor.
"Anything stronger? I … I think we might both need it."
"Sure. Okay." She reached into the refrigerator and pulled two bottles of beer out, passing her hand over the tops to remove the caps, silently banishing them to the garbage. She came back around the bar and carefully set the bottles down on the table, taking one of the chairs and sitting with her feet on the seat with her, knees upraised in front of her, fingers nervously picking at the paper label that was affixed to the beer bottle.
Remus sank into the opposite chair, pulling the other bottle toward him and lifting it to his lips for the first bubbly sip. Setting it back down, he started to speak. "Hermione, I…"
She interrupted, a bitter tone in her voice. "If you're here to tell me we can't be friends any longer, then consider it said and get out. I can't take anything else right now, Remus."
He was shocked by her words. "No, that's … that's not why I'm here."
"Good. Good." She took a long swallow from her bottle, and he found himself staring at the arching columns of her neck as the muscles worked to bring the liquid down to her stomach. "Why are you here then? You saw something you weren't expecting, and something I never intended you to see, and as usual, you've run away. That wouldn't be so bad, Remus; that's something I could deal with, something I could handle, though it would hurt like hell. But what hurts the most is that you've withheld not only yourself from me – with no notice or word, I might add – but that you also took away Teddy and our Friday night with the telly and the food and the gods-damned Saturday morning pancakes.
"I've spent the greater part of the last year getting used to our conversations and the absent-minded noise of him and his films and making the bean-bag into a bed before falling asleep listening through the wall to your outrageous snoring – did you know that he snores just as loudly? It's rather more adorable on him than on you, actually. But anyway, I've gotten used to all of this, and to tip-toeing into the kitchen to get the pancakes started before either of you wake up, because I like that at the first sizzle of the pancakes and the bacon, he's up and chattering away with me while we wait for you to catch up.
"I've fallen desperately in love with both of you, and I can't imagine my life without either of you in it, and over the last of my unhealthy coping mechanisms, you stole it all away. I don't know how to deal with this, because at this stage of a break-down, I normally call George and lose myself for a while, but I can't do that anymore because it feels like a betrayal of something that we've never even given a name to, and I don't know how you feel because you won't talk to me and you ignored my letter and I'm lost, Remus. In years past, I'd have called Harry or Ron and unloaded on them, but the damned war took them from me and I'm still dealing with that, and I'm trying to deal with these feelings I'm having for you and how Harry would take it and how Ron would go completely fucking mental at the very thought of me being with anyone else, much less our ex-professor who's nearly twenty years older than I am, and dammit my brain won't stop and I don't know how to make it, and can you please just fucking say something?"
He was frozen in his seat, eyes riveted to her face, now flooding itself with frustrated tears. She loved him. She loved his son. She loved him. The label from her beer bottle lay shredded to pieces on the table, and she was draining the rest of her beer from the bottle, a little stream escaping from the corner of her mouth. He was caught up in repeating thoughts of what she'd said: she loved him, she wanted to be with him, and she'd stopped whatever she'd been doing with George Weasley, at the expense of being able to cope with what had happened between them.
He was shaken from his cycling thoughts when she slammed her empty beer bottle to the table and wiped away the beer from the corner of her mouth with the back of her left hand. She stood quickly, tears continuing to fall while a look of sad determination thinned her lips and hardened her weeping eyes. "I guess that was too much to ask. Finish your beer, since you clearly need alcohol to deal with me, and then leave. You obviously don't feel the same way I do, so just leave, Remus. That seems to be what you do best."
As she passed by him, heading for her bed for yet another good crying session, he reached out a hand and locked it around her wrist, standing suddenly and stepping in front of her. His free hand rose and cupped her cheek, wiping away the salty trails with his thumb, his eyes smoldering with a brightly banked fire as they met the lighter-tones of the glittering doorway to her soul. "I'm not leaving. Never."
Without any further warning, their faces tilted toward each other, and lips met furiously. His tongue darted out almost immediately, tasting the salt from her tears and the heady dark flavor of the beer she'd drunk. Her mouth opened beneath his, and he almost groaned as the two strong muscles began caressing each other, tangling and stroking. He released her wrist and his hands worked together to free her hair from the messy bun, grunting in frustration when it wouldn't release itself. He could feel as her lips quirked into a quick smile before conforming once again to his own, and her hands reached up to pull the hidden pins out for him. His fingers buried themselves in the dark, curly mass when it was freed to flow down her back, and finished with her own task, she reached up to frame his head between her hands, palms over his ears and fingers scratching their way along his scalp in a way that woke the smoldering fire within and caused it to blaze forth in a torrent of heat and desire.
From deep within, a moaning growl began to issue forth, and his hands fell to cup the firm cheeks of her arse, tugging them closer and lifting, turning just slightly to set her on the wooden surface of the table and insinuating himself between her soft thighs, separated from his goal only by a few thin layers of fabric. Abandoning the warm wet cavern of her mouth, he trailed kisses down her jaw and lower, reaching the throbbing point of her pulse at the base of her neck. Latching on, he began to suck and pull, marking her as his. His hands had drifted up to her waist, and were skimming over her ribs under the thin tank top, his thumbs on the outside of the material, pulling it up, backing away from his work on her neck just long enough to yank it over her head before throwing it to one side and going back to the reddening spot, redoubling his efforts on the soft flesh.
"Oh gods, Remus." She had never felt anything like this all-consuming desire to have him, all of him, hot and hard buried deep inside her. She grabbed at his hands, using them together with her own to keep them out of the way while she unfastened his cloak, pushing it over his shoulders to fall with a thump to the floor. Satisfied with what'd he'd managed on one side, he moved to the other side of her neck and began leaving a matching mark on the other pulse point.
He'd barely touched her with anything but his mouth, and she could feel herself almost dripping with wanton desire. Keeping their hands busy, she was unfastening his shirt and pulling it up, loosening it from where it had been tucked into his trousers. In one massive shove, his shirt, the unbuttoned sweater-vest, and his jacket fell to the floor to join the discarded cloak, and she was left with a vast expanse warm, muscled skin to explore. There wasn't an inch of the exposed skin without a scar, and she found that it only made her love him more for everything he'd been through in his life.
With his hands finally freed again, he pulled back just long enough to tug her bra up over her head and toss it over with her shirt, lowering the attentions of his sinfully skilled mouth to one tight nipple, wrapping his mouth and tongue around the tip. She threw her head back at the ministrations, unable to hold back a long shuddering moan, her hands going back to support her reclined body against the table.
At the soft expression, he raised his head again, looking down at her flushed face. "Are you sure, Hermione? Really sure?"
Her eyes opened, sparkling as they met his, the love shining between them. "Weren't you listening, you daft man? I love you. Forever." Shifting her weight, she reached for one of his hands and pressed it against her dripping center. "Don't you see what you do to me? Of course I'm sure."
"I haven't… oh god that's heaven," his fingers moved against her wet folds, thumb brushing over her engorged clit, causing her to jerk and his cock to twitch in anticipation, "I haven't said it yet, but you should know I love you, too."
Her eyes half-closed at the feelings his fingers evoked, and her voice was thick as she responded, "Good, because I'm not letting you go. We'll work everything else out later, but if you don't take me to bed right now, I can't guarantee there'll be a later to work it all out."
He chuckled before dropping his head back down to capture her lips in another soul-searing kiss, his thumb brushing over her again, smiling when she gasped and broke the kiss again. "As my lady commands."
He wrapped his arms around her, she linked her ankles together behind his back, arms tight around his neck, and he lifted her easily, heading for her bedroom.
Later that night, sated and exhausted, he stumbled to the fireplace to Floo-call his mother-in-law. Teddy had long been asleep, and she happily agreed to keep him overnight, promising to get him to school on time the next morning. He swore to fill her in when he could and thanked her for helping out.
They did still have things to work out, he and Hermione, but armed with the knowledge that love and compromise could actually conquer most of the world's troubles, he crawled back up in bed with his sleeping witch, snuggling up to her naked back with his equally naked front. He dropped a quick and quiet kiss to her neck and fell into a satisfied sleep, avoiding his demons and nightmares for the first time since he had been bitten by Greyback as a child.
=========RL/HG=========
Over the next several months, Remus and Hermione did work through their issues. They had joint sessions with Madam Chris, and helped each other deal with the lasting ramifications of the war and what it had taken from them. They still had a long way to go, both individually and together, but having the unconditional love of one another worked together with the potion therapy and the sessions with the doctor to bring them to a new level of happiness that neither had thought would ever be possible again.
Hermione had laughed at the very idea of Minerva and Sybill being in love until she'd seen them together, and like Remus, couldn't deny the obvious feelings that shone between the two women, which matched what people saw when they saw the Werewolf and his Witch together.
The two couples had grown closer, and Hermione had finally set aside her dislike of Sybill from her years as a student, having recognized that if she'd been through everything the older woman had and hadn't had her intelligence and abilities to fall back on for work, she might have fallen into a similar state after the war had stolen the brightest parts of her life away from her. And certainly, if she'd smoked as much marijuana and drank as much sherry as Trelawney had in trying to deal with her grief alone, she might have appeared as barmy and inept as she'd always seen the woman.
But her increased abilities to cope without those crutches was resulting in Divination classes which actually gripped the attentions of her students, who were getting better marks and actually getting an education in the subject for the first time in at least thirty years, if not longer.
It only took a couple of months before Hermione moved in with Remus and Teddy, knowing her shop was only an apparition or a quick ride through the Floo away, and not wanting to disrupt Teddy's schedule any more than she had to. Friday nights remained sacrosanct at the flat, Hermione preparing a healthy meal for them while Teddy cuddled into his bean-bag and watched whatever the latest cartoon releases were. Hermione and Remus would often find themselves snuggled together on the sofa, watching the films with him. When Teddy fell asleep, as before, Hermione would transfigure the soft chair into a comfortable bed for him, and then, unlike before, she and Remus would both disappear to what had once been only her bedroom.
Saturday morning inevitably came with her lightly pressing a kiss to her snoring wizard's cheek as she tip-toed into the kitchen to begin their pancake and bacon breakfast. Teddy always woke first and would come stumbling into the dining room and climb into a bar stool to chatter away with her while the food cooked and they waited for Remus to join them.
This pattern continued for a year, and everyone was adjusting nicely to all the changes their relationship had brought. With the continued therapy and a solid, happy home life, both Remus and Hermione were getting much better. There were still bad nights full of dark nightmares, and like any couple, they squabbled and fought, but soft, loving arms and kisses to soothe each other through the terrors of the dark, and amazing make-up sex kept them balanced and happy.
Madam Chris was pleased with the progress they were making, and had been delighted to hear that they'd started their joint journey of life, knowing that their self-imposed solitude had only been a hindrance that was now removed.
At his two-year mark of therapy, he was in a much better place in his life than he'd ever thought to reach when Hermione and Minerva had pressured him to begin seeing the therapist. He knew better than to attribute it all to Hermione, because while she had certainly helped with the process, he would have never allowed himself to try for that happiness if he hadn't had the potions to help with the chemical imbalances and the verbal therapy with Madam Chris. As a sum total, however, he was pleased to pronounce himself as happy.
Finally in a better head-space, and with the curse on the Defense position having been broken after Voldemort's final fall, Remus was offered and accepted the post, and was set to begin in only a couple more months. Of course, taking the job meant having to move back into the castle, but Minerva had assured him that professors were allowed to have their families live there with them, if that was something worrying him.
He was worried about it, at least a little bit, but there were further implications than just moving his family into the castle. He didn't want to start any talk of scandal, and as it was something he'd been meaning to do anyway, he set about acquiring the perfect ring. After all, Hermione had said it that first night in the dining room of her flat: Forever.
He'd promised the same to Sirius before watching him fall through the Veil, never having had the chance to make things official. He'd promised it to Tonks, and had thankfully been given the opportunity to do so legally. They'd had such a brief time of happiness before she'd been taken from him as well, and at the same deranged hands that had taken his first love from him. He'd grieved long and hard for both of them, but Tonks had given him the greatest gift he could ever have asked for before being ripped away: Teddy. Had once been amazing? Had twice been beyond his imagination? Was thrice too much to ask for? Yes and yes, but perhaps not on the last one.
At one month to term and time for them to move in to his quarters, he nervously presented Hermione with the perfect ring and asked for her hand. Through both of their tears, she'd happily accepted, and a week later, they were quietly married at the Ministry, with Minerva, Sybill, George, and surprisingly enough, Andromeda, standing as witnesses. Teddy stood between them and served as ring-bearer, somberly handing the rings over when it was time, and beaming bright smiles at them at all other points of the ceremony.
He spent the next three nights with his Gram, giving Remus and Hermione a few days alone to initiate each other in the ways of married life and all the benefits that came with it.
They had several happy years, Remus teaching, Hermione taking her private hidden passage to work every day in the Apothecary, and Teddy charming the pants off all the teachers and students alike. The year he finally started his own classes, they were joined by Lily Hope Lupin. Two years later, Harry Sirius came along, as did Fred Arthur Weasley, George's son with his new wife, Katie Bell. Just a few months after, Neville and his wife Hannah had their first as well, Frank Albus Longbottom. The next year, to everyone's surprise, Minerva and Sybill produced a McGonagall heiress with the help of some rather tricky charms and potions, naming her Isobel Amelia for each of their deceased mothers.
The year Harry, Fred, and Frank started Hogwarts was Minerva's last in the post as Headmistress, though she and Sybill stayed in the castle one final year before Sybill retired as well, not wanting Isobel to be the brunt of jokes for having the former Headmistress and Divination professor as her parents.
What nobody could have foreseen was how quickly the four of them bonded together. Though the boys were a year ahead in school, Harry and Isobel had known each other forever, having both been raised in the castle. Combining the legendary pranking powers of the Marauders and the Weasley twins, along with Hermione and Minerva's intelligence, as well as the sheer magical strength of the Longbottom line, they became an unstoppable force.
They kept Remus, who was serving as Filius' Deputy, on his feet, much as his friends had once done when they were students. There wasn't another quiet year until the boys had gone, leaving Isobel to her own devices.
The night she left, the year after, Remus crawled into bed with his wife of the last nearly twenty-five years. He was getting close to his seventieth year, Hermione close to her fiftieth. They had gained their fair share of wrinkles, aches, and pains over their years, but still found themselves unaffected when it came to the bedroom. As she settled back into his arms and placed a kiss on the palm of his hand before leaving it to rest on the curve of her breast, he thought back on the last part of his life, and the huge part she'd played in making it whole, complete, and happy.
He'd once thought that one time had been a miracle, twice had been earth-shattering, and three times was beyond all possibility. His stance had changed. He still believed the same about the first and second times he'd been granted a great love, but on the third time? He now believed the Muggles that the third time was the charm. Was it too much to ever expect? Certainly, but it was not too much to ask.
The End
=========RL/HG=========
It's finally complete. I hope you all enjoy this brief departure from my epic Minerva/Hermione story, as I try to keep my muse fed and happy. I promise an update for that will be next, although I've been putting all my energy into this for the last week. Maybe I can push out a chapter for it in the same amount of time.
If you look on my profile, there's a link to a message board I've started up. Its purpose is to draw together those with ideas but no time and/or talent to write them with those who have the time and talent, but are lacking in inspiration. It's called Pieces-Shatter Fiction Prompts, and we are accepting prompts and responses from any fandom, any ship. Come check it out, and I hope to see you there! (The site can be found at "pieces-shatter dot us" if you don't want to find the clickable link on my profile.)
*bows* Thank you for reading.