Hourglass.
Summary: Hermione Granger never wanted to travel far into the past, she didn't mean to get stranded there indefinitely and she never expected to want to stay there. Time was always against her. RLHG.
Chapter 2.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Lupin didn't keep much in his cupboards and fridge - as she had expected - but seemed to be able to do a lot with what looked like a little. Hermione never knew that he could cook well. Molly Weasley always served up the food whenever they had eaten in the same company. She supposed she had imagined him like Ron, Harry and - admittedly -herself: only able to heat up sauces and cook simple things like vegetables, which only required being boiled.
It stuck her as odd that she was accomplished at potions and yet burned almost every meal she tried to make. Whereas Lupin, who seemed about level with Neville Longbottom in potions ability according to what he had told them, made a lasagne from scratch without breaking into a sweat. He even said it was a "relatively simple dish". She just chopped up the vegetables like he asked.
She was quite glad when he began to comment on the pouring rain; anything to distract her from the pain in her ankle was welcome. The other injuries she had sustained could hardly even be called scratches, but it felt as though her abused ankle was beginning to swell up.
"Do you have anything else with you? Any change of clothes?" he said, as the lukewarm conversation about the weather petered out.
She saw him glance at her attire out of the corner of his eye and took the hint. If he were more like Sirius then she didn't doubt that the comment would be far more lecherous. This was probably the most brief dress she had ever worn in her entire life, but she had picked it for a reason. It made her feel good, for one, and she had hoped that it would make a certain someone feel some regret.
It was quite childish, and spiteful, but at least she had stopped herself from tracking down Cormac McLaggen again and bringing him to the party with her.
"No, I don't have anything. Remember, I told you that I had lost my bag?"
He nodded and stepped around her to open the oven and slide the tray containing the lasagne inside. His kitchen barely had room for the two of them to stand side by side. Only around two square metres of the black and white tiled floor remained uncovered by the dated looking appliances. Lupin leaned over her to sweep the chopped potatoes into a battered pan and set it onto the hob.
Hermione noticed that he seemed to tense up and move away every time he came close to touching her. She wondered if he felt uncomfortable around her, or was trying to avoid making her uncomfortable. Hazarding a guess she might have said it was both.
"I can always transfigure this into something more practical," she said, looking sadly down at the flimsy skirt.
In all honesty she may as well have just wrapped a large silk scarf around herself.
"If you don't mind, I can lend you something to sleep in."
"That would be lovely, thank you."
His manners always seemed to catch her off guard. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond properly to a man who wasn't as straightforward, tactless and as brutally honest as she was used to. The small gestures he was continually making towards her - a perfect stranger - were getting under her skin more than she would have liked to admit. The silence dragged a little as they stood stiff-backed beside each other to avoid touching.
She found herself wanting to bring up books; the few conversations she had with him over the years were always very stimulating. Carefully racking her brains she pondered several volumes that she knew for definite were published at this time. Something like Defeating the Darkness or Vanquish would probably be the most interesting to him given the subject he would go on to teach.
Lupin swallowed noticeably when she turned around to face him with the intention of starting a conversation. He hid his expression beneath his hair again and moved quickly past her into the living-room. Hermione stood still, looking after him quizzically. She was in two minds whether to follow him or not. Though he was very tall and long limbed she noted, enviously, that he moved much more fluidly and quickly than she would ever manage.
Not like Ron; who was all gangly limbs and flailing off the Quidittch pitch.
Don't think about him. She reminded herself, fiercely.
Lupin re-appeared as she was attempting to rid her mind of the anger that accompanied thoughts of a certain red-head. Her earlier stupidity now brought guilt and irritation with that. Would he be upset? If the party had been cancelled would he be going to her house? Lifting his hands he held out a long, thick grey jumper for her. She smiled at him and gritted her teeth slightly as she pulled the jumper over her head.
Just three weeks ago Ron and herself had finally severed the ties that bound them together as anything other than friends. According to Ginny she had been that close to having a ring thrust in her face, and probably forced onto her finger in a combination of residual feelings and obligation. Even know she wasn't sure if her decision to end things was the right one. She loved Ron.
Honestly, truthfully and in a manner that would probably never leave her completely.
They fought a lot - as they always had - but the fights became fiercer. The moments they were together became a different kind of intense as well. She became frustrated with him when he didn't seem to want to spend any time with her outside of the bedroom. He became frustrated with her when she didn't openly shower him with attention as much as he would have liked.
Eventually they moved in together and their conflicting habits caused more arguments. The smallest thing set off a raging argument. It was emotionally draining to wake up in the morning and roll out of bed only to argue about the clothes left in the floor, and the length of time each person was in the bathroom, and a million other things. Hermione could have sworn they were on the brink of dueling around five times before breakfast in the worst part.
In the end it was her that suggested a break. Before the week had even ended he was gallivanting around with Lavender Brown on his arm as though a fling had just ended and not a serious relationship, effectively turning what she had thought was a break into an actual ending.
"Not quite as big as I thought," he murmured, pulling her away from her murderous thoughts.
The jumper fell past her knees - completely covering her from just below her neck to the tops of her calves. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Lupin seemed much more relieved as soon as she put it on. As though a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Are you kidding?" Hermione asked, feigning exasperation. "It's enormous."
"You are rather small, though," he said, lips twitching in a way that suggested he was trying to supress a smile.
"And you're positively gargantuan," she retorted.
He smiled at her in almost fond manner, displaying his slightly-more-pointed-than-would-be-considered-normal canine teeth. Dinner was almost done now, and for that she was quite glad. The noises her stomach was emitting were quite embarrassing to say the least, and standing was now really hurting her. She didn't want to mention it to Lupin, he would probably make a fuss.
Though she was relatively sure that he had noticed before.
He cleared his throat, opening his mouth as though he wanted to say something before thinking better of it and asking her to get out a pair of plates from the cupboard beside her. The soft clanking of cutlery and chink of plates filled the slightly awkward silence. His entire face and neck were flushed - the slightly tanned skin now the raw vermilion not unlike that of a person caught under the harsh rays of mid-day sun several hours to long.
Her curiosity snapped back with full force as she thought about what could have made him blush so deeply. Lupin carefully dished the meals onto a set of mismatching plates without touching her, or meeting her gaze.
"I don't normally have many visitors. So we either eat on the coffee table on our knees, or in the armchairs with the plates in our laps," he said, quietly.
"So, basically we eat like savages?" Hermione teased, smiling.
Surely that could not be the reason for his discomfort? Her jibe seemed to lighten the heavy atmosphere. He smiled slightly and answered in a marginally warmer tone.
"Precisely."
oOo
Leaping up the stairs two at a time a fierce grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. Seeing one of his closest friends always brought this sort of reaction - he was so excited blasting down the door didn't seem to bad an idea when it would get him in faster. Pausing at the top he smoothed down his cloak and shook the moisture from his hair in the manner that dogs use to remove unwanted water from their fur.
He had taken on that habit on purpose soon after becoming an animagus. James got no end of amusement from seeing him do it.
With the grin still firmly in place he lifted a hand with the intention of battering the door until he received an answer. Mid-movement he paused and listened. A tinkling laugh cut through the wooden door like a knife. A woman'slaugh. If there was one thing that Sirius Black knew it was the sound of a woman enjoying herself. And this one undoubtably was. Ignoring any thoughts about his friend's privacy that threatened to creep in he pressed his ear to the door.
Another laugh - deeper, Remus's. There was a pause in the conversation - and then something that sounded suspicously like his name.
The door flew open unexpectedly, almost causing him to sprawl onto the floor in a highly undignified manner. Remus looked at him over the back of an armchair with a mingled expression of irritation and amusement. Catching his balance he leaned casually on the frame of the door as though he had not just been discovered eavesdropping on the other side of it - hoping to catch a glimpse of the mystery woman. He could count the number of women Remus had entertained at his flat on one hand.
He could be so introverted sometimes.
"Hear anything interesting, Padfoot?"
"You were too quick catching me, Moony. 'Spose that comes with - " A warning look, he pretended to have been distracted by the small head that had popped up over the top of the other armchair.
A pair of large brown eyes widened slightly when she caught sight of him and her cheeks reddened slightly before she disappeared back behind the chair. It was hard not to smirk at her reaction - his reputation preceded him sometimes. Sirius pushed himself off of the frame and sauntered forward - curious to no end to see this girl despite the looks he was getting from Remus.
"And who is this?"
Tiny little slip of a girl; brown, bushy hair, brown eyes and half swamped by a large jumper. One of Remus's... If it hadn't been for his exceptional sense of smell (another benefit of being an animagus) he might have thought they were better acquainted than the cautious distance between them suggested.
"Jean."
She extended a small, shaking hand. Remus was watching the entire exchange with narrowed eyes.
"Don't be scared, love. I don't bite," he smiled and engulfed her tiny hand in his own.
It didn't seem that she liked what he said overly much - her grip was very strong and he almost winced. Doing so would have left him with only tatters of pride. Perhaps she wasn't quite as gentle and impressionable as she had appeared a first glance.
"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you," she said, meeting his gaze with an almost steely glint in her eyes.
Sirius let out a harsh bark of laughter and raised an eyebrow at his friend who replied with a bemused look. Slumped into the chair beside him the smell of something delicious, and vaguely spicy, made itself known prompting him to ask whether anything was left to eat. He had been planning to drag his friend out for the usual take-out and pub crawl - something they had not done in a while now - but the appearance of this Jean girl blew that plan out of the water.
Remus nodded, seemingly glad to have the girl's full attention again, and indicated towards the kitchen. As he walked over he watched them talking quietly out of the corner of his eye. She leaned closer to talk to him and put one small hand on his arm. If she leaned over any further she may as well have crammed herself into that chair with him. Remus was still smiling widely and placed his hand over hers.
There was a pause when she looked down at the hand covering her own with a bewildered expression, a blush staining her features. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched them. Taking some of the delicious looking food Remus had wrapped up and going to visit Peter seemed like a good idea right now. Though the thought of their being only two of them made his spirits fall slightly it was worth it if... He smiled wickedly in the direction of his lyancopthic friend as he glanced up at him.
Knocking the door of the cupboard shut with his hip, he walked back into the room with tupperware cradled in his arms.
"Gonna head off now Moony. Wormtail and I are going to hit the pub."
Remus stood and crossed the room in two strides his brow furrowed.
"You're leaving? So soon?" The note of disappointment in his friend's voice stung him a little.
"You know me; eat and run. Can't cook to save myself." He raised and eyebrow and gave a pointed look in the direction of Jean, to which Remus gave a short nod.
"I'll see you around, Gorgeous," he added, amused by the unladylike snort of derision the endearment prompted.
oOo
The room was silent for a few moments after Sirius vacated the flat. Listening intently Remus heard the sound of each footfall as his friend descended the stairs. Had this been the full moon his ears would have drooped slightly. As things became more and more dangerous their meetings together became less friendly and carefree and more tense. There was always an underlying note of unease. People were being murdered in their beds and disappearing from crowded streets every day.
Looking back at Jean, curled in the old armchair with one foot tucked beneath her, he couldn't believe anyone would have let her wander about by herself. The roaming of his eyes finished at the foot dangling down to just touch the floor with her small, nail-varnished toes. Her ankle was swollen. Slowly, as though approaching a timid animal, he reached out and ran a finger across the area where the skin was stretched tightest across the bone.
She shuddered in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable in more than one way.
"I'm fine."
"Just let me, please. You'll be much less sore tomorrow." The words were rushed and almost jumbled. The confidence boost Sirius had brought disappeared the moment he left the flat.
A soft sigh - she turned her chair a little so that they were facing each other. Cupping her foot in one hand he gingerly lifted her leg until her heel rested on his thighs. A flush crept its way across her cheeks and she looked away from him with a frustrated expression. It seemed almost absurd how small she was; her tiny foot was almost completely engulfed by his two hands as he began working his thumbs across the abused flesh.
A pained expression flitted across her face before he looked down at his hands - feeling that watching her expressions was uncomfortably intimate. Part of him wondered how long it would take before his over-familiarity frightened her away. He couldn't seem to help himself. She was facinating, compelling and intelligent. Sirius had given him a look he had almost forgotten just before he left.
Don't mess this up.
In the back of his mind a small insistent voice muttered that he could have used magic for this. Her skin was soft and warmed beneath his fingers. The tension was almost smothering. For a moment he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. She smelled of coffee, damp silk and the overpowering saccharine scent of synthetic strawberry shampoo. On anyone else the mix wouldn't have been appealing.
"Your friend," Jean said, a tremour in her voice,"who was he?"
Her voice held a note of someone trying to regain control of the situation. Remus didn't even notice the fact the his fingers had begun working into the arch of her foot and around her heel. He did hear the quickening flutter of her heart and the slight harshness of her breath.
"Sirius Black. I'm sure you've heard of him," he said, watching her face intently.
A flash of recognition.
"Heard of the family," murmured Jean, almost to herself.
Her fingers dug into the arm of the chair.
"He's not like them. You would like him a lot if you get to know him." The pained look on her face spurned him on for reasons he couldn't indentify.
"I don't think I'll be getting to know him, Remus," she said softly.
He wasn't sure why her quiet admission stung him quite so much.
"Of course... You're going home...?" It wasn't meant to be a question.
"I have to."
Silence stretched again - more tense than the last time. His fingers began to move up her calf slowly, without conscious thought. They began to talk about books again, with less passion and conviction than the last time. She refused to meet his gaze and her flesh shuddered slightly beneath his probing fingers. For a moment he is afraid that pressing to hard might cause her to shatter. The women he had touched in the past were never interested in this kind of contact.
They were always older, worldly, good looking in a fleshy sort of way; tall, strong and demanding. Someone like Jean never stumbled into his path. When his fingers brushed her knees she started. Remus was suddenly aware of how far his hands had crept up her skin; if he leaned forward slightly he would touch the soft skin of her inner thighs where the jumper, his jumper, had ridden up.
"Thank you." The statement held warning instead of warmth.
"It was my pleasure," he smiled, hiding the wince at his poor choice of words.
It was a miracle that she hadn't already bolted.
"I should like to sleep now."
He nodded, glad of the distraction. Together they pushed the armchair completely together and transfigured them into a small single bed in front of the fire. It only took him a moment to slip into the other room and gather up some spare sheets, a pillow, an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Jean was careful not to touch him when she lifted the things from his arms. He turned away and busied himself with the bookshelf when she bent over to arrange the sheets.
The sounds of her in the bathroom; rustling cloth sliding across skin, bare feet against tiles and even running water were agonising. Remus shook his head and blamed it all on the impending transformation.
"Thank you for having me here, I really appreciate it." He smiled at her, forcing himself not to read too much into her words.
The sounds of someone else in the flat made it difficult to sleep. That thought was slightly disturbing; he really did spend too much time alone. Some time in the night muted sniffles and the smell of salt reached him.
Instinctively he knew she was better off alone.
Okay, been having some majorly sucky writers' block lately. I decided to just bang this chapter up because in my stinted brain it is not going anywhere quickly. I thought you guys would prefer to read a shorter chapter than no chapter at all. Am also working hard on Fragments of Fate. Life is a pain because I'm going back to school next week and it will be face to the grind-stone from then on.
Love you guys.
Thanks for reading,
xxx
Edit: You may notice "Lyancopthic" in this fic, which isn't exactly a word. Type it into Google and a link comes up for this fic, and nothing else. I'm keeping my dreadful miss-spell for a laugh... And because HarlequinRaven told me to.