Those blasted red knickers.
-0-0-0-0-
The night atmosphere at the Burrow was absolutely magnificent. Molly had assigned the boys some chores earlier in the day to ensure that at least three large tables were set up outside and no gnomes were wondering about to steal the shoes of unsuspecting party goers. A long, white table cloth was warmly draped over the mismatched sizes of the wooden surfaces, and Hermione had to wonder more than once how on earth Molly had managed to find so much cutlery. No three plates matched, and you would be hard pressed to find a cup that was the same design, but to Hermione, the haphazard set up is what made it so special.
Molly had set up a charm that kept the cold away from the tables, and Hermione found herself fascinated as the tender snowfall was gently diverted in a wide dome around their party. The large platters of food that the Weasley matriarch had valiantly cooked and prepared in time lifted dancing tendrils of hot steam to the atmosphere. Warm, yellow wax candles had been expertly levitated so that they would hover over the table, slowly but surely dancing above the group's heads as they ate and chatted.
Hermione had eventually been settled at the table between Sirius and Remus. Originally, the two older men had sat together, their heads bent towards each other and talking quietly, most likely gossiping like a pair of doddering old ladies. There was a chair open next to Sirius, and so Hermione moved to sit into it, only to be blocked off by a perfectly manicured hand holding onto her forearm.
"Oh, no, Hermione," Sirius looked up at her with a trouble-making smile. "You couldn't, possibly sit there, darling. That chair simply isn't padded enough. Here, have mine. All cozied up and warm, right next to Remus." He sent her and naughty wink as he practically pulled her down into the – admittedly, more padded – dining room chair.
Hermione was too busy giving Sirius a desperate, red faced glare to notice Remus' wide-eyed expression over her shoulder.
And so dinner started. As far as she was concerned, that was the absolute worst place to be at that moment. Between Sirius' naughty glances to her crotch, and Remus' peace-keeping conversation, Hermione felt utterly trapped. Her nerves were at near breaking point. She felt compelled to juggle between awkwardly shifting in her chair to get comfortable (many curses sent to the proprietor of whoever made the underwear she was wearing in the meantime), sending Sirius reprimanding scowls, and trying to keep in conversation with Remus.
By the time dinner was complete, she was full to bursting, but her stomach, instead of hanging heavy in her belly, sated, was roiling with anxiety.
She was thankful when Molly brusquely ordered her children to clear the table, for Hermione found the perfect moment to slip away, unnoticed by all but Arthur Weasley, who sent her a departing nod and a warm smile, so that she could take a wonder around the snow blanketed Burrow.
She followed a magically cleared, slightly icy path that lead to a small pond that edged the property border. It was fairly large pond, deep enough to swim in, with points where even Ron, who was freakishly tall and lanky, couldn't stand on the bottom without his head submerging. In summer, tall reeds would grow high around the edge, fish swimming merrily in the sun warmed water. Now, in the middle of winter, the tall grasses had long died off, and if there were any fish in the pond, they were submerged far beneath the thick ice that blanketed the surface.
Hermione shivered slightly in the cold air, warm steam escaping her open mouth as she exhaled. Wrapping her thick jumper tighter around her body, and dipping her chin into the merino, Hermione trudged further forwards, intent on making her way over to the rickety old bench that sat beneath the gnarled, dead looking branches of a low hanging tree that bordered the Weasley pond.
"Hermione!"
Said woman spun around in shock at the voice that disturbed her quiet, peaceful moment. In that split second, she felt her foot slip in the smooth ice underfoot, and plonked down hard, half on her hip, half on her bum. She threw an elbow out in a wild dash to save her head from cracking on the ice.
She lay there for a second before the ache flared in her pelvis. As it throbbed into life, she gave a hearty groan, and rolled on her back, pulling her legs up to her chest as she waited for the pain to ebb.
"Hermione?" she heard Remus shout, his voice worried. She turned her head to the side in time to see the poor man slipping his way over to her, stumbling over the icy pathway. "Hermione, are you alright?"
Her face was still scrunched in pain as she answered. "Yep, I'm fine. Just give me a minute."
He finally made it over, and knelt at her side, his face a mask of harried anxiety. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry for startling you."
Hermione gave a small chuckle at his clucking. "Really, Remus, its fine." Her arm reached out and grasped his hand. His fingers were freezing. "Help me up?"
The older wizard smiled gently at her, and lifted her up with all the tender handling of a man holding a newborn kitten.
He pulled her close and supported her weight with an arm wrapped securely around her waist.
A small pink blush started heating her cheeks as Remus lifted her up high enough so that her toes only just brushed the ground. Inside, she felt slightly mortified. This way, he could feel just how heavy she was. "Remus, I'll crush you. Put me down."
The werewolf - who previously had a small smile quirking his lips upwards - immediately frowned, the good-humoured twinkle in his eyes turning dark.
"You're hardly the size of a whale, Hermione."
Well, that didn't make Hermione feel better at all. In fact, that made her want to move away from him.
At her distancing, Remus expression immediately turned contrite. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it so brashly. It just came out." His tight hold on her waist had a desperate sort of constriction to it.
"Remus," Hermione's voice was somewhat clipped. "Loosen your arms a little, please."
His hold immediately slackened, and Hermione's feet hit the ground with a dull thud. The pain in her hip returned with the slight jarring of her descent, but she wasn't concerned with that right now.
"Sorry," she murmured lowly, her eyes dropping to the ground in front of her booted feet. "I suppose I'm a little on edge tonight."
Remus didn't say anything, but draped his arm over her shoulders in much the same way that Sirius had, and motioned a silent invitation for them to go sit on the bench with a sweep of his other arm.
As they settled onto the cold wood, Remus asked her softly, "Why are you on edge?"
Hermione glanced up at him, before dropping her eyes to her fisted hands. They were starting to feel the chill, so she quickly shoved them under her armpits. "Sirius."
"Ah." Hermione knew that Remus understood immediately. "Yes, he can be a bit of a handful."
"A handful?" Hermione asked incredulously, though her voice remained low so as to keep the quiet peace that surrounded the pond. "Remus, he's a tsunami of bounding energy. The man is a seventeen year old trapped in a grown man's body. It's no wonder he gets on so well with his godson, because their maturity levels are exactly the same."
Remus chuckled fondly. "Yes, you're right." He gave her a sideways smile, and bumped her shoulder with his. "But, you have to admit, he can be quite fun."
Hermione returned his smile. "Of course he can, but sometimes... sometimes, I just want to," her hands emerged from her armpits and curled into claws as she imitated strangling the dark haired aristocrat.
Remus chuckled again and looked out across the pond. Hermione followed his gaze.
The burrow twinkled at them from across the snow strewn land, a lantern of golden light burning defiantly against the harsh coldness of the pastures surrounding it.
"Come on," Remus eventually said, standing. "Everyone's inside, now. We should go join them before they get worried."
Hermione gave him a smile as he stretched out his large, cold-fingered hand, and helped her up.
She didn't take two steps down the path, before Remus tugged her to a gentle halt. Hermione gave him a quizzical look. "What is it?"
Remus offered a gentle smile. "We might as well cut across. Its faster."
Hermione's eyes strayed to the burrow, and felt herself growing tense at the mention of cutting across. "I can understand cutting the fields, but I'm not sure about the pond, Remus. What if one of us falls through the ice?"
Remus, ever patient, explained, "the Weasley's use this pond all through winter to ice skate. It'll hold us. Trust me."
Hermione gave him a searching, wide eyed look, before glancing to the lake again. Finally, she nodded.
They stepped onto the ice, the surface covered with fluffy snow that allowed them to stride across it without slipping too much. The pair's shoulders were hunched against the snow, while they walked close together to maintain body heat.
"Oh, look!"
Hermione was pulled to a halt again as Remus grasped her shoulder. He was pointing to the sky.
Hermione looked up just in time to see a bright streak of light flare across the heavens.
"Wow," Hermione hummed as she watched it peter out. Her eyes, as they always did when she turned them to the sky, strayed to the near full moon. Once a beautiful sight, it had now turned ugly.
"Hermione?"
She turned to look at Remus. She grew alarmed at the sight of him pale faced and looking at his feet.
He looked up at her again. "Did you hear that?"
Hermione frowned at him. "Hear wh-"
A sharp crack, one that was reminiscent of thunder breaking through the land, sounded beneath their feet.
She felt dread wrapping its thick tendrils about her chest as she watched a large splinter form between them.
She looked up at Remus fearfully, but the older man simply gave her a pained smile, lifted his hand and held it to her cheek before saying, "Hermione. It's too late."
"What?" her eyes widened in horror.
His other hand came up til he cupped her face in his large, cold-fingered hands. "You're too late, sweetheart. You shouldn't have waited. We could have had more time."
And with a final crack, the ice disappeared from beneath Remus' feet and he fell through, into the dark oblivion of near frozen water.
Hermione dropped to all fours at the edge of the round hole in the ice and screamed, "Remus!"
And with a final, raping gasp, she woke up in the warm burrow, only to find Remus and Mrs. Weasley hovering over her with worried expressions on their faces.
"Oh, thank goodness, you're awake." Molly immediately bustled away into the hallway, babbling as she went. "Well, this means she doesn't have a concussion, Remus." She returned within seconds. "Stop crowding her, dear. You're practically breathing in her air."
"Hermione?" he said hoarsely, his hand moved to cup her cheek, much like he had done at the pond before he had fallen through the ice.
Hermione felt a shudder ripple its way down her spine as she raised one of her own hands to cover the one he had placed at her cheek. "I was too late," she whispered, her eyes sightless as they stared up at him. "I was too late."
"Too late?" Molly asked brusquely. "No, no, dear, you were right on time."
Hermione blinked a few times, and then turned her head to look at Mrs. Weasley. "I'm sorry, Molly. What did you say?"
The older woman smiled kindly at her. "Never you mind." She bustled up to Hermione, flapping Remus away with her hand as she did, and then unfolded a large, somewhat stiff quilt. The red-head wrapped it snugly around Hermione, making sure to tuck it in beneath the younger woman's legs and torso.
"There," she announced her completion, and then sat on a chair from across Hermione.
Remus followed soon after, sitting at Hermione's feet. She glanced down at him, and noticed the nervous energy still exuding from him. She quickly tucked her toes beneath the werewolf's leg and smiled shyly at him when his eyes turned to her. She made sure to get a good look at his face so that she could remind herself that Remus hadn't just fallen to his death.
She exhaled a shuddering breath and pulled the blanket higher on her chest. "What happened?"
"Well," Mrs. Weasley said from across her, "what do you remember, dear?"
Hermione carefully thought out her answer. She could hardly tell where reality ended and the dream began. She didn't wish to tell them what had happened on the pond, especially Remus. It was far too private a moment. One that she wished to keep to herself.
After a few moments, she carefully answered. "I came here for dinner. We ate outside, and I left for a walk around the fields."
Mrs. Weasley leaned forward. "You don't remember anything after that?"
Hermione shook her head, avoiding looking directly at the Weasley matriarch. She knew that if she dared maintain eye contact with the older woman, she would be compelled to tell the truth.
She shook her head. "No, ma'am."
"Hermione," she heard Remus call to her softly, the weight of his hand coming down to rest on her ankle. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."
Molly immediately piped up. "Don't blame yourself, Remus, dear. It was an accident."
Hermione looked at the werewolf, a small frown on her brow. "Why are you sorry?"
Remus swallowed heavily. "I made you fall over. If I hadn't startled you, you wouldn't have slipped on the ice. You wouldn't-"
"That's enough," Mrs. Weasley barked at him. She stood. "Now, I'm making hot cocoa for the both of you. Remus, you get that self depreciating look of your face before I come back, or I'm going to flog you. Understood?"
Remus sent the Weasley matriarch a sideways glance. "Yes, Molly."
They both watched as Mrs. Weasley made her way out of the room.
Remus then turned to Hermione, many levels of contrition glowing on his face. "Please forgive me, Hermione," he said earnestly.
Hermione felt a world of sympathy for the poor man. She understood that he'd had a rather unforgiving childhood – understood that what friends he did have made him cautious to make mistakes and cling to them almost desperately. Hermione knew that, while he held a healthy level of remorse for his accident, this overreaction was one based off a lifetime of rejection.
She sat up, and bent into his side, one of her arms curling around his waist. "Remus, I'm not angry at you. Like Molly said, it was a mistake." She smiled up at him. "I doubt you could ever make me angry at you. You're far too nice."
The hand that he had curled around her shoulders rose to brush her bangs from her face. She didn't notice his fingertips lingering on the soft skin of her cheek. She was, however, aware of the prickle of sensation that the caress had left.
The phrase, 'love struck puppy,' echoed in her mind for a mere second as she looked up at the man who graciously allowed her to cuddle with him.
He gazed down at her, his blue eyes soft. They darted up to her fringe, and Hermione felt his fingers toy with the short strands once more.
She sucked her lips into her mouth in a moment of uncertainty, before whispering, "Remus?" she knew straight away that she sounded like a frightened elf owl.
His eyes turned to her face once more. "Hmm?"
She hesitated for yet another second, before steeling her resolve, lifting herself up swiftly, and planting a short, somewhat stiff kiss to his cheek.
She sat back down as promptly as she picked herself up, a red blush flaring across her cheeks. She grasped his now limp hands in her own and whispered fiercely, the words rushed out like a nervous child. "You're lovely. Don't let anyone else say otherwise."
Remus blinked owlishly at her, and Hermione felt the red in her cheeks flare hotter.
Feeling like she had somehow stripped herself bare in front of him, Hermione stood and bid a hasty retreat. "I... um, I'm going to – oof!" her hip collided noisily with a side table seated next to the doorway. Remus half picked himself out of his seat in concern. "No, don't worry. I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow, Remus."
Hermione was so hasty in her retreat, that she didn't spot Sirius poking his head out from behind the kitchen archway, giving Remus a high-browed, conspicuous wink, and a thumbs up. Not a second later, Molly poked her head out from behind Sirius, giving the werewolf a conspiratorial smile – one that said, 'I told you so!'
Had Hermione not escaped so quickly, she would have seen the way Remus' expression turned thoughtful, would have heard him utter out a simple sentence that had the potential to send her reeling, "do you two really believe that she's in love with me?"
She did, however, hear Sirius' exasperated, half pleading, "yes!" before she apparated back to the safety of her old, secluded, grey stone cottage.
-0-0-0-0-
Hermione lay in bed later that night, thinking, unable to gain a single moments peace. Her mind was buzzing, her thoughts boiling about like a hissing kettle.
Now that she looked back on the events, she could see the obvious clues that hinted she had been dreaming. The utter melodrama of such a scene was a big, blinking light in her book. Neither she nor Remus would have ever acted so outwardly... mooshy in real life. A dramatic existence was something she actively avoided. Walking across a half frozen pond – one she knew that the Weasley's reinforced with charms in her waking moments – both cooing at a shooting star, Remus falling through the ice, all indicated to an overactive, and quite frankly, fluffy imagination.
However, she didn't miss the way in which her subconscious prodded at her. She closed her eyes and contemplated.
"You're too late, sweetheart."
She opened her eyes once more, unable to stop the nervous twisting of her mouth as the memory of those words sent an unpleasant jolt to the pit of her stomach.
"We could have had more time."
Hermione stiffly shook her head, her hands clenching at her sides.
She had never actively thought of the possibility of Remus being taken away from her. Whether it be in tragic circumstances, work, or – heaven forbid – another woman.
Just the thought of such a thing made Hermione feel sick to her stomach. She had always expected that Remus would constantly be around, but now, after such an unfortunate... vision, Hermione was forced to doubt the solidity of her assumption.
What if Remus did find another woman? One who was smarter, prettier, and more versed in the world? Someone who he became enthralled with? Married, had children?
What would she do if such a thing happened? Would she stand aside, hoping to convince herself that he would be happier with someone else? Or would she ruin even the tender friendship they had formed out of jealousy?
The only problem was, Hermione was sure that there was no way on earth that Remus would even notice that she was a hot blooded female who was desperately in love with him.
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut once more. Now she was starting to sound like an old spinster.
Desperately in love with him?
Was it true? Yes.
Was that fact as horrendously pitiful as it sounded? Even more so.
-0-0-0-0-
A/N:
Due to the recent sweep done by the site admin, I have edited my stories so that they contain underage-friendly content. If you want to find my full works, you will be able to find me on AO3 when I'm granted site access.
Due to the site sweep, I won't be uploading any more chapters or new works on the site unless the admin put up an adult friendly section. I know this is unlikely, but I think they'll be doing fanfiction net a gross disservice by deleting a majority of the M rated fics.