Hi all! This is a new AND Beta'd chapter. Thanks my lovely cosmo! I own nothing and make no money.
"Where are those happy days, they seem so hard to find.
I really tried to make it out, I wish I understood. It used to be so nice; it used to be so good." – ABBA
Molly Weasley was not happy, and taking no great pains to hide it either. Her husband flinched at the sound of dough being slammed against the wooden table that was used for making breads and desserts the Muggle way - from scratch. The table, which Molly only used when she was distressed, had been taking quite a beating. The fact that she'd been using it nearly non-stop since Ron had dropped his little bombshell was a testament to how upset she really was. His news had come as a terrible blow to the family, Molly in particular, who held his son's ex-fiancé in high regard. In her eyes, Hermione would have made their son the perfect wife. He, himself, hadn't been so sure that it would have been the 'perfect match' that Molly always claimed it to be, but he had been as delighted as the rest of them when they became engaged. Thrilled hadn't been an adequate enough word to cover Molly's joy when Ron and Hermione had announced their intentions of getting married.
That thrill had diminished somewhat when she'd discovered that they'd be moving in together, before the nuptials. She'd been properly scandalized, and made no bones about her opinion on the subject. His dear, Molly wasn't known for keeping her opinions to herself. Not that it had made a whit of difference, they'd found a flat of their own almost immediately. Although Molly had lost that particular battle, she was firmly entrenched in winning the war. Every opportunity that came her way she made mention of the wedding, and offered assistance on any or all ways, a plan that had been beginning to bear fruit until Ron had 'ruined all her meticulous work.' Another grunt and slap of dough later, Arthur felt duty-bound to make some sort of husbandly gesture.
Clearing his throat, he asked, "All right, Molly dear?"
The thumping stopped, and Arthur risked a glance in wife's direction over the top of The Daily Prophet. She was covered in pieces of uncooked dough, some of which were caught up in her hair, loose strands of faded red falling haphazardly about her strained face. She certainly didn't have the look of someone who was all right.
Glaring through flour-speckled bangs, she snapped, "Of course I'm not all right. You're son has ruined everything… everything!"
No news there, he thought. He'd been listening to this particular litany until he could have recited it in his sleep.
Wiping the back of her hand across her cheek, she cried, "It would have been all so perfect! Ron with Hermione. Ginny with Harry. The both of them would finally have been part of our family, just as it should be, and now…" her voice rose, "this!"
In an effort to comfort, Arthur replied soothingly, "There's still Ginny and Harry. They look to be living up to your dream of one big, happy family."
"Yes," she replied, sounding somewhat mollified. "There is that." Punching the mound of dough, she stated through teeth clenched as tightly as her fist, "If only Ronald would have gotten that silly notion of being a Quidditch player out of his head."
Arthur didn't say anything to that last remark because, in all honesty, Molly couldn't seem to grasp the powerful lure of a much cherished dream. And, while he certainly didn't condone Ron's actions, he wasn't going to hold it against his son for an indefinite period of time. Molly, his dear, sweet Molly, had screeched her fury, and then had made it more than clear that Ron 'should never darken their doorstep again'. Not long after this declaration, she'd chased him from the family home with, of all things, a frying pan. Arthur knew that his wife meant very little of what she'd said. Disappointed she might be, but she still loved their youngest son, and would eventually get over her anger and welcome him back with open arms. Peeking at Molly once more, he acknowledged wryly that, that wasn't going to be anytime soon.
Wiping her hands on the apron wrapped around her ample figure, she huffed angrily, "Now, she's off living with that reprobate."
No need to ask who the reprobate was. "I thought it kind of Sirius to invite her to stay for awhile." Though the house was Sirius', Arthur was pretty sure that the invitation, more than likely, came from the other half of the Marauding Duo. "It isn't indefinite, dear. She'll be back on her feet in no time."
As if reading his mind, Molly stated firmly, "That was Remus's doing and make no mistake about it. I just wish she'd have come to us."
Arthur grimaced. "Molly, we've been over this. It would have been much too awkward for Hermione."
"Why?" she demanded, put out that Hermione hadn't jumped eagerly at the opportunity when it had been that presented as an option. "This is her home in the Wizarding world - has been since her second year."
Whenever Molly Weasley had a bee in her bonnet on a particular subject she was apt to be blind to the realities of any given situation that didn't fall in with her immediate wants and needs. Such was this incident.
"We've made it clear over the years that Hermione can look on the Burrow as another home, but it has been Ron's family home since before he was born." Flicking the paper to the next page he continued, "I can see why Hermione felt it prudent to re-group somewhere else. Makes perfect sense to me."
Grabbing a handful of flour from the pile situated at the bottom corner of the wooden table, she sniffed, "Well know this for certain, Arthur Weasley," she stated while sprinkling the white substance over the table's surface, "if Remus didn't live at Grimmauld Place as well, I'd drag Hermione back here. By force if necessary!"
Arthur hid his smile behind the folds of his paper at the scene his wife's 'helpful' little intervention would have elicited from his former, future daughter-in-law. What a sight that would have been! Both women were as stubborn as it was possible to be, and had often clashed in the past. Those periodic bouts of head-butting did not diminish the very real affection that each woman felt for the other.
Arthur knew that Sirius might not be the best influence for a young person, but he also knew that Hermione had a mind of her own, and if past incidents were anything to go by, was well able to handle the infamous Sirius Black. Molly was worrying for naught; Hermione was in no danger whatsoever of falling under his spell. It was quite humorous to think on, actually. To Arthur's mind, if Hermione were to fall under anyone's influence it would be that of her former professor. Two of a kind was those two, and far more likely housemates than Remus and Sirius.
The latter was known to enjoy a party now and again, most of which, the Weasley's and several mutual friends were always invited to attend. It wasn't unheard of for Remus and Hermione to slip away from such gatherings only to be found hunched over a book or scroll stored away in the massive Black library. Neither Remus nor Hermione seemed to find the crowd and noise much to their liking.
Taking a sip of his luke-warm tea, Arthur reflected on the last time Remus and Hermione had skipped out on a party – nearing nigh a month or so ago. While their behavior never raised eyebrows, it did go a long way to garnering some serious ribbing by his twin sons, all of which was taken in stride, everyone knew that there was no cause for concern.
"I was thinking that I'd make some scones, and perhaps a Shepard's pie and then apparate on over to Grimmauld. I'm sure they'd appreciate some homemade treats. Goodness knows that Sirius will do his best to scarf them down before either of the other two even gets a chance at them."
Arthur grinned. It was true, that in the past, Sirius was one to take advantage of the absence of Remus – whether it be somewhere else in the house or out an about – to eat as much – if not all – of the mouth-watering meals or goodies in which Molly would leave for them.
Not to say that either wasn't capable of making their own meals. They were. Fact was, Remus made a mean bangers and mash. Then, there was his beef Wellington which made even Molly's persnickety palate sing his praises.
Sirius could throw together bacon and eggs in a pinch, but not much else. Although, Arthur had to confess, they were some of the best bacon and eggs he'd ever eaten. The eggs – fluffy and cooked to restaurant standards- melted in the mouth. While the bacon was fried up to a crispy, brown - just this side of being burnt. Not that many people had call for eggs and bacon as a main meal in the evening, but if you'd been invited to breakfast you were in for a real treat.
Their youngest bounced into the kitchen, a ball full of energy and happiness. Smiling indulgently, Arthur asked, "What are your plans for the day?"
Grabbing an apple from the bowl by his elbow, she said before taking a bite, "Harry and I are going to practice Quidditch maneuvers in the yard."
With a disgusted click of her tongue, and an extra hard slap of dough, Molly spat out angrily, "Quidditch! That awful, awful, couple-destroying, senseless game!" Turning to glare at her daughter, she continued, "You will not play that game in my back yard young lady, do you hear?"
Brow scrunched, Ginny mumbled through her mouthful of fruit, "They can hear you in the States, mum." Swallowing she added, "Don't blame Quidditch because Ron's being a berk. To be honest, mum he was a bit of a berk before he was stupid enough to ditch Hermione. The fact that she put up with him for so long astonishes me."
Molly's face reddened. Shaking her finger at Ginny – who artfully dodged scraps of flying dough – snapped, "Don't talk about your brother like that."
Confused, Ginny asked, "Why not? You do."
"That's different," Molly declared. "I'm his mother, and mothers are allowed to notice their children's flaws and make comments now and again. It's a mother's right, and sacred duty."
Ginny rolled her eyes, and snorted, "Get real mum."
"And what, young lady, is that supposed to mean?"
Ginny hesitated. Her mum was standing battle-ready [as the family referred to it] - feet planted apart, arms akimbo, with her mouth set in a hard line, and Ginny wasn't sure she wanted to engage her mum in battle, even though she felt that her mum should hear a few home truths. Her brown eyes shifted to her dad, who looked sheepishly at her before lifting the paper to cover his face. No help there, Ginny thought. She was on her own.
"All I'm saying is that you have a slight tendency to go overboard when it comes to us kids. You just can't help yourself, I suppose. You are our mum after all."
Ginny hoped that she had been diplomatic enough to placate her angry-looking mum. Apparently so, because her whole demeanor softened, before she stated sagely, "Someday, when you and Harry have children of your own, you'll understand."
"Mum!" Ginny gasped, blushing furiously.
But Ginny didn't, Arthur noticed, deny her mother's statement that she and Harry would one day wed and have children of their own. It was all pretty much written in stone where Harry and Ginny were concerned. But, then again, it had seemed the same with Ron and Hermione. Though, in this case, Arthur was in total agreement with his wife, and had very little-to no-doubts that Harry would end up being his son-in-law.
Changing the subject, Molly asked, "How's Hermione? Have you visited with her since…"
Molly seemed unable to finish the sentence, and wiped her hand once more across her cheek leaving a stain of white flour in its wake.
"Not really." Ginny admitted, shame-faced. "She stays pretty close to Grimmauld." Molly grimaced, looking as if she just smelled something distasteful. All in honor of Sirius again, no doubt. "After Ron did his disappearing act I flooed a few times, but she barely said a word, so I thought it best to let her be for a bit."
"That poor dear," her mum murmured, sadly.
Tossing the rest of her apple in the bin, Ginny said, "But, I did manage to catch a glimpse of her today."
Molly perked up. "Oh?"
"Yep. She was walking with Remus. They must have been making their way back to Grimmauld." Ginny paused. "She looked… good. Happy almost." Shrugging her shoulders, she continued, "Well, happier than I've seen her in a long time, at least."
"Oh?" Molly echoed, sounding less perky.
Ginny's lips twitched. It was a fact that Molly Weasley didn't want Hermione to be miserable, but she also didn't want her to betoo un-miserable either. Her mum carried within her the hope that Ron, her dork of a brother, would come to his senses and back to Hermione. That little dream was, more than likely, not going to happen, but you couldn't tell her mum that. There was a lot Ginny's mum refused to take a good, hard look at, and even more she wasn't ready to give up on altogether. Regardless, her mum wasn't a feather-head, and she knew full well that if Hermione were to recover before Ron did come to his senses, the chances of Hermione taking him back would be pretty damn slim.
Rallying, Molly said, "Well, it's good she's getting out. Being holed up in that miserable place can't be cheerful at all."
She didn't say it, but like her father, Ginny knew that what her mum really meant was being holed up in the same house as Sirius. Personally, she liked Harry's godfather. He was great fun, and more importantly Harry loved him and smiled more often when Sirius was around.
Ginny reached out and grabbed a corn meal muffin just out of the oven. Molly made a half-hearted attempt to bat her hand away, but that's all that it was, half-hearted. In years past Ginny's hearty appetite had been of grave concern to Molly. It was all good and fine to lose a bit of your girlish figure to the dictates of time and child-bearing, but to lose it before your time and without any babies to show for it? Well, that just wasn't on! Certainly, there were wizards who preferred full-figured witches to that of the lissome slimness of her Ginny. Truth was, Molly would have worried just as much if Ginny had gone the other way. Bony girls didn't breed well in Molly's opinion, and so it was with great relief that upon reaching that time when a girl became a woman, Ginny had begun to fill out rather nicely. As to her ability to out-eat her brothers? Molly had stopped worrying when it had become evident that her many athletic pursuits would keep her waist-line in hand.
Sighing, Molly continued to roll out dough while thinking on Hermione. Following a similar train of thought she could with great honesty admit that while Hermione was currently attractively curvaceous, she could quite easily roll over that very real – yet invisible line – into dumpy. Not that it actually mattered any. Hermione would be lovely no matter how many pounds she packed on. She had the sort of beauty – not the showy, obvious kind that her Ginny had – that would stand the test of time.
"Need help?" Ginny asked, grinning broadly.
The rolling pin stilled its movements. Molly gave her youngest a dark look. She'd been trying to teach Ginny the fine art of cooking, and baking from the time Ginny was old enough to brandish a stick wand. After all those years of longing for a daughter, and finally getting her wish only to discover that her beautiful little witch would rather trail after her brothers. Having more interest in keeping up with them, and their boyish adventures than on learning how to be a lady and someday a mum herself.
Brandishing the pin by one of its handles, Molly declared in a wounded manner, "Go ahead, tease your mother. It's not as if I already don't have enough to contend with."
Slamming the pin on semi-flattened dough, Molly fought back tears. Then she startled her husband and daughter by using both hands to get a good, strong grip at the end of the pin, and then proceeded to repeatedly bash it on the table. The noise, which could have rivaled the explosion of George and Fred's loudest and most obnoxious fireworks, brought the rest of the occupants of the house running.
Fred skidded to halt at the sight of his mum pummeling a helpless slab of dough on a rickety table whose legs looked as if they were about to collapse underneath her onslaught.
George, close on his brothers heels, slammed into him nearly knocking them both off of their feet. Fred had enough foresight to throw his arms out and grab either side of the entrance way to halt their momentum.
Molly, still brandishing the roller like a weapon, interspersed her relentless barrage with an alternating screaming and sobbing out of her despair and frustration. By this point, there was absolutely no dough left, but Molly continued to pound the table, and Ginny couldn't remember the last time her mum had been this out of hand – demented almost.
Oh sure, she'd lost it when Ron had told her that he'd tried out for, and made the team for the Chudley Cannons. And, she'd really lost it, [big time] when he followed that up with his, he wasn't going to marry Hermione either speech. But not like this!
Shoving his head over Fred's shoulder, George demanded, "What's happened?" He had to nearly bellow to be heard, such was the racket his mum was making. "Someone die, or something?"
"Mum, if she doesn't calm down." Fred stated seriously. He was concerned that his mum might just bring on an aneurysm or some such thing.
Arthur came up behind his wife, and grabbed the roller on an upward swing while wrapping his other arm securely around her waist. Leaning in close, he began too whisper in her ear. At first, their mum struggled against his hold on the pin, and her waist. But, their father held on tightly.
"There now, Molly-wobbles, there now." He cooed in her ear. "It'll be fine, just fine." He continued to whisper words of comfort, and some of total nonsense until she released the pin and sagged against him in exhaustion. The screaming and sobbing had given way to a quiet weeping, and Ginny wasn't sure which was the more disturbing. The un-Merlin-like caterwauling they'd just been privy to witnessing, or this desperate weeping.
Arthur slowly lowered the pin to lie on top of the destroyed table, careful to avoid any splintered pieces of wood. Turning his wife around, he gently forced her face into his shoulder. She clutched at his robes bunching them in her fists, her entire body shaking with her muffled cries. Cradling the back of her head, he stroked her tangled hair, before saying quietly, "Ginny, in the bathroom cabinet is a calming draught. Please go and get it."
Ginny did not need to be told twice. Slipping past her brothers, she hurried to the stairs ascending them quickly.
"Don't understand why she didn't just apparate." Fred said, while watching Ginny's retreating figure.
"After all that," George motioned toward their parents, "I don't think I could have remembered my three 'D's' without splinching myself either."
Fred nodded, "You got a point there."
Ginny was back in a flash holding the potion outstretched in front of her. Her father took it and murmured into his wife's hair, coaxing her to take a swallow or two of the potent liquid.
"There now," their father whispered in satisfaction, patting her back soothingly, while Molly sipped the draught until the vial was empty. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?"
The draught took effect immediately, much to the relief of their children.
Casting a stern eye to each of his off-spring, Arthur said, with a firmness relatively unheard, "Your mum and I are going to have a bit of a lie-in. Boys – you're to keep quiet and behave. Do. You. Understand?"
"Course pop, we understand." George answered meekly.
"We got it covered." Fred added.
"There now, love," Arthur cooed once more while carefully steering his wife out of the kitchen.
The three Weasley kids could just hear the tail end of what their father was saying.
…a nice warm bath is in order, don't you think?"
Ginny brushed ginger-colored bangs out of her bewildered eyes, and commented in a voice that shook, "I've never seen mum like this. I mean, she's always so stalwart, the stead-fast rock for all of us." Biting her lip, she added quietly, "It really scared me."
"What'd you do?" George questioned, in an accusing manner.
"Hey," she shot back angrily. "I didn't do a damn thing!"
At her brothers disbelieving stares she put her hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of their mum, and said, with stringent asperity, "If anyone's to blame it's that half-wit, Ron. So, don't go accusing me because that arse ruined mum's seven year plan for he and Hermione!"
"Seven years?! Mum's been planning this for seven years?" asked a flabbergasted, Fred.
"I knew mum was keen on Hermione," George interjected, "but isn't that just a tad barmy?"
"Not to mum." Ginny informed her still bemused brothers. "She had high hopes for those two."
"Think she'll be okay?" Fred asked, his brow furrowed in concern.
"Don't know," Ginny, answered on a sigh. Looking around at the baked goods scattered on the floor, she sighed again. "Guess it'd be a good idea to start cleaning up."
"It's your smile and the sound of your voice… No one else could ever reach me, now I've got this feeling I'll be given no choice… - ABBA
Daigon Alley was extremely crowded with all manner of witches and wizards intent on reaching their destinations in record time, not caring who they plowed down in the process. Remus had to hold Hermione tightly by the elbow to keep her from getting violently jostled. Although it went against his nature, he used his own elbow as a rudder in the sea of bodies, doing his own fair share of pushing in an attempt to stay by her side. It was a nice feeling, having someone care enough to keep her from being run down. Ron would have pushed right on through leaving her to shoulder passed people as best she could.
Hermione sighed. She really needed to stop thinking so much about Ron. He wasn't coming back to her, and that was that. Why could she think that fact through logically, even come to that natural conclusion in her head, and still manage to disbelieve it with her heart? Again, intellectually, she knew why. There was absolutely nothing intellectual, or logical when it came to the heart, and the emotions that went right along with that particular organ. Life would be so much easier, Hermione acknowledged wryly, if that wasn't the case.
She'd heard absolutely nothing from him since his departure. Nadda. Zippo. Zilch. That wasn't to say that there wasn't any news on him. There was: plenty. Her main source of information on the man she loved, had planned on spending the rest of her days with, the one who she'd had every intention of creating a family with – little red-haired replicas of himself – was now only through the media.
It was just as she had feared; Hermione was now the focus of curious speculation. Their break-up had been splashed across every tabloid imaginable. Credible and trash alike, it made no difference. It was front page news through out the wizarding world.
The majority of the articles went mainly with Ron's skills while engaged in tryouts for the Chudley Cannons, and the foreshadowing of that success by raking over the coals of his Quidditch accomplishments from their fifth and sixth years at Hogwarts.
They touched on their family backgrounds, and the differences between being raised in the Wizarding world in contrast to that of the Muggle world. [As if they knew anything about being raised in the Muggle world!]
A great deal of time and ink was spent in the writing up of the parts they'd both played in the downfall of Voldemort. True to form, they'd focused more on how Ron had saved Harry from drowning and his destruction of a Horcrux, while skimming over Hermione's more varied and extensive contributions to the cause, and totally ignoring that she'd saved The-Boy-Who-Lived arse more than once.
They portrayed Ron in an almost Martyr-like manner while she had the dubious pleasure of being labeled 'jealous of his remarkable talent', 'controlling and selfish' and the list went on and on. She ignored it as best she could knowing there was nothing else for it, people would rather believe a sensationalized story than research the facts.
"Damn thoughtless idiots." Remus muttered under his breath as yet, another inconsiderate clod, stepped on his foot.
Giving up on the whole elbow business, Remus pulled her tight against his side. It was awkward to say the least, their own feet tangling together, but at least she was pressed up against Remus' body and not some strangers.
"This is ridiculous!" exclaimed Remus, angrily. "You'd think the Weird Sisters were giving a free concert or something equally inane!"
Hermione could understand his frustration. Crowds weren't her thing either, she being a solitary soul. Before Harry and Ron she'd really never had playmates, not that they'd done much playing, their lives had been complicated since first year. Regardless, she'd had no friends before them in the Muggle world.
It was to Hermione's sorrow that she'd been a disappointment to both her parents in this aspect. Her lack of friendly companionship had bothered her parents far more than it had her as they were quite social people, and having their daughter literally hide out in her bedroom when guests came calling wasn't easily explained away.
Oh, they'd made their pride in her academic prowess clear enough, even hoped she'd choose dentistry as a profession after completing her school years. Hermione hadn't the heart to shatter their dreams on that score. She loved her parents, and telling them she had planned to leave the Muggle world after her studies would have devastated them. Fortunately, their inability to see eye-to-eye on various subjects didn't negate the positive, loving feelings that surrounded their little family. Familial love had never been in the minority, nor in question.
And as far as the Weird Sisters went? Although, she'd enjoyed hearing them at the Yule Ball, it wasn't her first choice in music. Her brain was constantly firing off its own loud, blaring words and ideas and so, for Hermione, it was the wonderful, soothing sounds of classical music in which she so often found herself lulled into peaceful oblivion. She'd introduced her favorites to a grateful Remus. Many a night, while visiting Grimmauld they'd relax together. They'd recline on the couch or their respective chairs, letting the melodies wash over them in wave, after delightful wave.
"I'm about ready to apparate us to Flourish's and Blott's." Remus sounded thoroughly disgusted. "And, I'd do it, but I'm afraid we'd end up landing on someone, and I'd rather not risk it."
Hermione smiled. Dear, wonderfully good-hearted Remus. Always thinking of others before him self.
"No worries," she proclaimed in a cheerful manner. "But I have to admit, all this hustle and bustle is starting to get to me."
Giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze, Remus nodded his head while carefully trying to maneuver them, once more, out of harms way. An over-weight wizard was bearing down on them with alarming speed for one so out of shape. When Remus realized the 'gentlemen' in question wasn't going to veer in favor of a lady, he bared his teeth and snarled angrily at the on-coming mountain of flesh. The wizard's swift forward rush faltered, and his florid face paled to the point of putty.
Hermione couldn't have been more shocked. Remus, who she knew to be, without a doubt, one of the sweetest and mild-mannered of wizard's had growled, actually growled, at the man! The only times she'd ever heard him growl were when he was agitated about something when it was close to the full moon. Mentally ticking off the days, Hermione realized that the full moon was a good week away and therefore, Remus shouldn't be having this sort of problem. Yet, here he was displaying wolf-like tendencies.
Hermione glanced up at him, concern etched into her features. He was still scowling at the man who had wisely moved as far away from them as was possible within the confines of their cramped quarters. Remus had clearly frightened him, and Hermione had to confess, Remus did look intimidating. But he wouldn't have actually harmed the man. Would he? A momentary doubt assailed her causing Hermione to falter in her tracks.
Remus must have taken her hesitation as a trip because he hugged her even tighter and bent in a solicitous manner to ask, "All right?"
Slightly breathless, she answered, "Yes. It's insane today, isn't it?"
"It sure is," he agreed, while shuttling Hermione into the door of the shop they'd been seeking, and immediately Hermione felt a sense of homecoming. The familiar scent of parchment – aged and new – assailed her; she breathed it in deeply, reverently.
"Marvelous, isn't it?"
Hermione turned, her face beaming to find an answering smile on his own face. Remus understood her relentless addiction as no one else did. He understood the thrill of new and unexplored knowledge gleaned from a previously unread book, and the gritty taste of ancient dust left on the tongue after opening a tome long neglected. He knew too, the various textures of page, after turned over page, as avid eyes searched and absorbed its contents. He understood the incomparable beauty of ink splattered fingers incurred by relentless thoughts transferred onto empty pages, contemplating the next words while enjoying the soft, silky brush of a feathered quill against slightly parted lips until inspiration struck.
Remus's own lips were parted as if waiting for that very touch. Why, she thought in surprise, Remus has lovely lips! Full and lush and curved sweetly up at the corners. Small brackets surrounding those corners, kept his lips from being too feminine in nature. It pleased Hermione that his mouth appeared to be as sensitive as his nature.
Hermione hadn't ever really noticed many physical aspects about her very good friend. Oh, she'd noticed the very obvious things: like his scars. She couldn't miss them – no one could – they were on display for all to see. In Hermione's mind, they were a testament to his strength and bravery. Of course, Remus had a totally opposite view on his scars. But, to Hermione, his views were skewered by a self-loathing at something that was far beyond his control.
Hermione was in the habit of focusing more attention to Remus's inner qualities. He was in possession of an extraordinary intellect, and his accurate insight to situations and people, and his obvious tenderness toward those he admired and cared for, was extraordinary. His patience with Sirius and his shenanigans was that of a saint, and he took his duties to rebuilding all that had been destroyed by Voldemort's rise, seriously.
Still, she couldn't help but wonder with a great deal of curiosity, what it would be like to have that tender-looking mouth cover her own? Would his kiss be tentative, shy? Or would it be fierce, and flaming? Did he prefer to nibble on his lovers' lips, peppering those nibbles with teasing bites? Or was he one of those who pulled and tugged, sucking moistly and with a heated hunger? Would he taste like the dark, sweet chocolate he so adored, or like the smooth, aged whiskey he indulged in on rare occasions?
Hermione brought her unseemly and totally inappropriate thoughts to a screeching halt! What was she doing?! Gods, what the hell was wrong with her? Was she actually standing here imagining Remus – Remus Lupin – her very good friend, Remus, kissing her?!
True, it had been months since Ron and she had made love. She'd been too tired after all her time spent at the Ministry, and then, there were her after hours research. This devout-like dedication to her much cherished causes had her falling into bed, overcome with exhaustion. Delivering her 'wifely duties' – even though she hadn't been a wife yet – was the very last thing on her mind. Ron would grumble when she didn't come across with the sex but had claimed to understand. Looking back, Hermione wondered if that might have been one of the reasons for the split. Even so, to think of Remus along the lines of sex, was… well… not right. Not right at all!
"As if you didn't know," she teased in her usual manner. She needed to get her head – and her curious libido – back on the correct track. She shoved from her mind lingering thoughts of Remus' mouth. Looking around she continued with relief, "At least it's not as crowded in here."
"It looked as if Honeydukes was doing a bang up business, and if I'm not mistaken, I thought I saw Ginny heading toward Quality Quidditch Supplies."
"Really?" Hermione questioned. "How in the world was it possible for you to see a blasted thing in that manic throng?"
"Ginny's red head is quite distinctive, and I have an advantage you do not." Pointing to his eye, he said, "Superior eyesight, compliments of being a werewolf."
"Oh, I see." Hermione stated simply, feeling a bit like an idiot; she should have known that.
"Not as well as I do." Remus, joked. Taking her elbow once more, even though it was hardly necessary, he moved them toward the check-out counter.
"Hello," he greeted the witch pleasantly. "I believe my book has arrived."
"Name?" She asked, in a bored voice.
"Remus Lupin."
Searching briefly under the table she straightened up, before saying, "I'm sorry, sir, it's not here."
She didn't sound in the least bit sorry to Hermione's ears. Fact was, she hadn't really taken a good look.
"I think you'd better check again." Hermione snapped, leaning forward. "And this time do it right." She followed her next statement with a threat. "I'm sure the owner of this fine establishment would not be in the least bit pleased at your treatment of paying customers!" Glancing at the witch's name tag, Hermione added, "Gilda."
The witch's attitude changed in a heartbeat. "Of course," she stuttered, looking around for her boss, hoping he wasn't within earshot. No one had ever questioned her sloppiness before.
Searching, much more thoroughly this time, she produced a package wrapped with brown paper clearing bearing Remus's name. "Here we are." She handed the package to Remus with a tentative smile.
Remus, being Remus, put the poor witch out of her misery by calmly taking the book and handing over the correct amount of knutes without making a stink.
"You're too much of soft touch." Hermione accused him as they walked away.
Grinning, he took her hand and walked her into the direction of where he knew some of her favorite books were kept.
"I see no point in creating unnecessary problems for myself." He paused, giving her a pointed look. "Or others."
Hermione pulled her hand from his and stormed off to the shelves that held numerous Transfiguration books. She was flipping half-heartedly through a book she'd read and re-read when Remus found her. She pretended not to notice him standing by her side until he spoke quietly, "Hermione, I'm sorry. Don't be angry."
Closing the book with a thump, she mumbled, "She was treating you badly, Remus and I didn't like it." Raising her eyes to meet his soft ones, she continued, "I'm not going to stand by and say nothing when it comes to the people I love, and I refuse to feel bad about it. Or," and here she looked just as pointedly at him, "allow someone else to make me feel bad for it."
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Remus murmured, "And there I was reprimanding you for your good deed to me and hurt your feelings in the process. What a beast I am."
"Well," Hermione, laughed shakily. "I wouldn't go quite that far. It's just," she hesitated, looking up at him out of sad eyes, "you don't seem to have a sense of your own worth." Placing a hand on his sleeve, she said in touching earnest, "And you should, Remus! You're more than worthy of everything that we all have, want, or need. You're no different than the rest of us!"
"What a lovely, kind person you are." He whispered, more touched by her words then even he could express. "But, the truth is, I'm not like the rest of you, not really."
Stubborn to the end, Hermione proclaimed stoutly, "You are in every way that matters! We all have our little issues to contend with." Remus thought it so like Hermione to liken their issues with his monumental, monstrous issue. "I… I'm bossy and much too cerebral and Harry's too eager to launch himself where angels fear to tread." Continuing along the same vein, Hermione said, "Just look at the twins, they're walking trouble personified! Molly – dear that she is – likes to organize everyone's lives to how she thinks it aught to be and doesn't care who she annoys along the way and Ron, he's …" Her voice died out.
"An idiot!" Remus, stated firmly. "He is!" Remus reiterated strenuously when he saw that Hermione was going to argue the point. Taking her chin in a firm but gentle grasp, he lifted it until he was able to look into her eyes again. "He let you go, Hermione and that makes him a royal idiot in my book!"
"Really?" She asked, voice trembling. It was clear to Remus that although she'd severely admonished him on his own seeming lack of worth, that she was having the same trouble.
"How can you doubt it?" He demanded, incensed that Ron could shatter this wonderful witch's confidence so thoroughly. "He was fortunate enough to have this spectacular woman – you – in case you can't quite figure out of whom I am speaking, and threw away a priceless pearl without so much as a backward glance. Of course, he's an idiot!"
Tears clung to Hermione's lashes, and Remus just wanted to pull her into his arms, so strong was the urge to comfort and chase away the hurt and sadness. To prove to her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, of how desirable she was. How desirable, and deserving of so much more than what Ron had to offer.
He settled for running his thumb across her trembling lip at just the moment Hermione chose to lick away the salty wetness that had gathered there. Her tongue slid across the pad of his finger, and just like that, Remus felt something in him lurch alarmingly and he recognized it for what it was… sexual attraction. Pulling back swiftly, he took an unsteady step away from her.
Sensing the change in Remus, Hermione asked in confusion, "What? What is it?"
Taking a deep breath to steady him self was a massive mistake, he'd ended up inhaling her scent, her delectable, spine-tingling, scent. It was an intoxicating combination of vanilla and cinnamon with traces of her light – non-offensive to his senses – soap. He also absorbed through his keen nose a small strain of chocolate which had clung to her clothes from her visit to the kitchen before they'd left Grimmauld Place.
If that wasn't heady enough, he detected a smell that was just Hermione – all her own – the essence of her very being. It carved a pleasant path through his nostrils, and seemed to travel straight to his heart, which was beating much faster than it had been a few moments ago. Fighting against the feverish pounding of his heart, he was soon to discover, was the least of his problems. That very same luscious aroma after leaving its mark on his heart, had then settled uncomfortably in his groin. He felt overwhelmingly intoxicated, his head swimming with mental pictures of he and Hermione engaged in sexual acts that while arousing were also horrifying to the more sane side of his nature.
The beast in him howled its approval, and Remus had to consciously pull the wolf back. It fought fiercely to free itself, to acknowledge its own feral attraction to Hermione who stood oblivious of the struggle which was taking place right before her eyes. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he continued to restrain that which did not want to be restrained.
She didn't help matters when she touched his cheek and asked in concern, "Are you all right? You look flushed."
He latched onto her assessment eagerly. "I'm not feeling quite myself."
Truthful, but heavily understated!
He turned his head so that her hand was no longer against his face. He needed space, and he couldn't think rationally while she was touching him.
"Perhaps tea will help." Suggested, Hermione her brow scrunched up in worry.
Doubtful, Remus thought wryly.
"Have you eaten today? Maybe you're hungry."
I'm absolutely starving. For you.
Remus, who was totally disgusted with himself, said, "I think we should go back." Then, an idea struck him. "There's no reason to cut your shopping short because I'm feeling ill. You stay."
Please, please… I'm begging you. Stay!
Remus could feel the wolf pacing anxiously, growling in annoyance at Remus's attempts to distance himself from his prey.
Sounding affronted at the very notion, Hermione declared, "Absolutely not! I wouldn't dream of leaving you while you're feeling unwell."
Satisfied, the wolf circled a few more times and then settled himself in a pile of long limbs, resting his chin on his massive paws watching with unblinking amber eyes.
Remus gave up on giving Hermione the slip. "All right." He quietly conceded. "Do you mind if we leave now?"
He was beyond desperate.
"Let me have this," she commanded, while taking the package from his limp grasp. Her hand brushed his thigh through the pocket of his robes as she placed the book there.
If his wolf could purr, it would have, such was his satisfaction at being physically close to Hermione, and having her stroke him even if it had been inadvertently done.
Grabbing her hand in an iron grip while still in his pocket, he demanded harshly, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Hermione jumped at his accusatory tone, and winced while trying to flex her semi-crushed fingers. Bewildered, she explained, "I thought it would be wise to apparate back to the house instead of wrestling with the crowd. You don't look too steady there, and the book will just get in the way." Cocking her head to the side, she pulled her hand from his grasp and she asked, "Did I startle you?"
You have no idea just how much!
The wolf languidly licked his paw, his complacency unnerving and aggravating.
"Hermione? Remus?"
Both the people in question spun around at the sound of their names.
"Gin." Hermione asked, sounding surprised.
"You're not hallucinating." Ginny, laughed.
Ginny gave her friend the once over, and other than looking shocked at her presence here in the shop, Hermione was wonderfully turned-out. Her amazing figure was poured into a pretty, purple tank top paired with brief frayed-off jean shorts making her shapely legs look much longer than they actually were. Ginny had to give credit where credit was due, the one positive thing her brother had done in his relationship with Hermione, was to persuade to her to clean out her closet of all those prim, drab, unflattering robes and Muggle clothes. Doing so had revealed an entirely different Hermione. Who knew a bombshell existed underneath her steady, no-nonsense exterior.
Ginny had always been a bit jealous of Hermione's curves, favoring her friends more generous proportions over her own slim, athletic build. Not that it seemed to bother Harry any, he claimed that her slender-muscled limbs were a total turn-on.
"I came to look for the newest cookbooks for mum. I thought it might cheer her up a bit."
It would take a hell of a lot more than a cookbook to cheer up her mum, Ginny knew, but it was a start. That, coupled with the fact that while engaged in cleaning up the kitchen, George had burnt their mum's favorite cookbooks beyond recognition. Honestly! Who in their right mind would attempt to clean up destroyed baked goods and furniture with a Reducto spell?!
No need to let Hermione in on The Weasley matriarch's collapse. It would only serve to disturb her further, and Hermione had been through enough.
Turning to greet Remus, Ginny said, in a startled tone, "I say, Remus, you're looking as if you've been hit by a rogue bludger."
A bludger would be a welcome trade to what he was really being hit by.
"I'm taking him back to Grimmauld," Hermione said, while urging Remus, one hand holding him by the arm while the other was wrapped securely about his waist, toward the end of the aisle where Ginny stood.
Remus could feel the warmth radiating off of her skin even through the layers of his robes. Glancing down, he wondered why in the world Hermione had felt it necessary to leave hers at Grimmauld. He felt the sudden urge to pull his own robes off and envelope her in its voluminous folds, there was far too much of her creamy flesh on display.
"Need help? I'm pretty strong for a girl." Ginny joked.
"I think I've got it covered. Thanks anyway." As an after thought, Hermione motioned with her head before saying, "The cookbooks are four aisles down, second shelf from the bottom."
"You're tops, Mione!"
Remus groaned as thoughts of Hermione being on top flashed in his inner line of vision. He really was a disgusting pig. His wolf, on the other hand, flashed his teeth in what looked to be a self-satisfied grin.
Why was this happening? Remus wondered in desperation. Sexual fantasies featuring Hermione had never cropped up before, but now, for whatever reason, he was being inundated by erotic images. Disconcerting – larger than life – in full color, erotic images.
"Cripes, he's really ill." For the first time since running into them, Ginny was actually worried.
"I'll just take him home and put him to bed." Hermione informed her. "If he gets worse we can floo St. Mungo's. I just don't understand it, it all happened so suddenly."
"Can we go now, please?" Remus entreated, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
This was all getting to be too much for him. Her scent, her touch, even the sweet sound of her voice was stirring things up that he couldn't cope with, and he was fearful that he might actually act on the impulses rushing through his mind.
The wolf yawned as if bored, although Remus could tell he wasn't as relaxed as he appeared. He was just biding his time, he could afford to be patient now that he seemed certain of the outcome.
Remus bridled angrily. There was no way, no way that he was going to allow the wolf anywhere near Hermione. With every fiber of my being I will fight you, Remus informed the beast forcefully.
The wolf cast Remus an amused glance and yawned once more as if weary of Remus' claims. Remus gritted his teeth in frustration and let loose with a low, feral growl. That got the beasts' attention! Jumping up, the wolf stalked closer. Remus could feel the nature of the beast closing in on him.
Stop! He yelled, inside his head. The beast did, almost immediately but not before it bared its teeth at Remus in warning.
Remus's world was spinning wildly. Reaching out he grabbed the nearest thing which just happened to be the very person he was trying to avoid. His hand slid over the soft flesh of Hermione's forearm, sending quivering jolts of tactile pleasure to every atom of his being. The wolf was enjoying it as well. He sat on his haunches, tongue lolling while he panted out sporadic puffs of warm air.
Remus, himself, began to pant in rhythm with his alter ego. Great, gasping pants, that blew across Hermione's face and shoulders, raising a rash of goose-bumps. Hermione shuddered. Was it wrong to notice how amazing his breath felt when Remus was feeling so awful? Hermione chastised herself severely. Remus needed her and all she was wondering or thinking about was the sensual brush of his life force against her skin. What kind of friend did that make her? To her mind, a bad one.
"Hermione," Ginny remarked, her face serious. "You can't do this alone. He looks as if he's going to keel over."
Just as Ginny made her declaration, Remus stumbled. When Ginny reached out to steady him, he dropped into a crouch, his lip curled into a ferocious snarl.
Ginny's eyes widened in fear and as she was reaching back to pull her wand from her back pocket Hermione threw out her arm and yelled, "Stop, Ginny! He'll think you're attacking him."
Without taking her eyes from Remus, Ginny whispered incredulously, "He'll think I'm attacking him? Come on, Mione who are you kidding here?! I'm not the one foaming at the mouth."
"Just relax, Gin and don't make any sudden movements." Hermione ordered the girl who still had her hand behind her, prepared to use her wand in a split second. "We'll talk about that foaming at the mouth crack later." Hermione admonished her with a scowl.
Ginny's mouth fell open at the absolutely ridiculous statement that had spilled forth from Hermione considering they were both in some serious danger!
People were starting to get curious as to the goings on in their area of the bookstore. In fact, a crowd was growing at an alarmingly fast rate. The wouldn't bode well for Remus, who just happened to be a frequent patron of the bookstore and if they didn't get out of here fast, he'd never feel comfortable showing his face in this beloved place again. And that, Hermione knew, would just about kill him.
With a barely perceptible flick of her fingers, Hermione mumbled under her breath Obscuro Oris and then with a twist of her wrist Muffliato.
Damn, Ginny thought with a tinge of envy, I've really got to get her to teach me that! Wandless magic wasn't beyond her abilities, Hermione had assured her; she just needed to make a concerted effort.
"Do. Not. Move." Hermione enunciated each word forcefully when Remus made a slight jerk toward Ginny.
Breathlessly and through lips that barely moved, Ginny said, "I will stun him, friend or not."
As if sensing the threat, Remus stiffened, rearing back sharply as if reading him self to attack. Bringing home the fact that this was, indeed, a very serious and volatile situation.
"Remus." Hermione called to him softly.
Abruptly his head spun toward her, his stance relaxing some what. Hermione gasped. The familiar blue of his eyes was almost entirely absent. It was there around the edges, but it was overshadowed by a deep, golden amber. Wolf's eyes.
Impossible, she thought. Impossible! Yet, the proof was right before her, watching her closely, making her uncomfortable with its steadfast stare. What to do? She wondered, frantically.
Making a decision, Hermione ordered, "Apparate, Ginny."
"What?!" Was Ginny's choked reaction. "No way!" She said in a tone that brooked no argument. "I'm not letting you alone with… that!"
"Gin, it's Remus."
Sort of.
"You are out of your bloody mind." Gin, informed her with vehemence. "That's no more Remus than I am Hagrid!"
"He won't hurt me." Hermione was sure of it. She didn't know where the assurance came from but it was there. The fact that Remus no longer looked as vicious as he had a few moments ago might also have had something to do with it. "Go, Gin."
Stubborn to a fault, Ginny proclaimed in an anguished voice, "You don't know that for certain! I can't leave you here alone! If…" she stuttered, "… if something happens to you, I'd never forgive myself. Never!" Nor would anyone else, Ginny silently added.
"Look at him, Gin," Hermione suggested as a way of appeasing her. "He's much calmer than he was."
Ginny had to agree with Hermione. Remus – or whatever or whoever it was – did appear to have ceased its aggressive behavior. Still, Ginny was not totally convinced of Hermione's safety.
"Please," Gin pleaded, "let me stun him. It's the only sane thing to do. It won't do permanent damage. You now that!"
"Only as a last resort." Hermione, insisted. "I can handle this."
"I know you, Hermione and I know that no matter what he does, you won't defend yourself." Ginny truly believed that too. Hermione always had, had a soft spot for Remus.
"Ginerva Weasley," Hermione, snapped angrily. "Get your arse out of here at once. Do it!"
The agitated tone in Hermione's voice had Remus snarling at Ginny with renewed vehemence. He slid first one hand sideways, and then the other, pulling himself nearer to Hermione while keeping Ginny directly in his sights. He rested his head lightly against the side of Hermione's leg, and then he turned his face slightly – still keeping eye contact with Ginny – into the skin at the back of her knee, grazing the area, over and over again with the tip of his nose.
Hermione stood completely still. She hadn't a hope in Hades of knowing what was happening, but she didn't think Remus would hurt her. Fact was, if anything, he looked to be protecting her. He hadn't growled at her once, and he wasn't glaring at her with those yellow, unblinking eyes of his, which were trained directly on Ginny, whom he did seem to consider a threat. That was odd enough on its own, but then to have him running his nose over the highly sensitive hollow behind her knee, went way beyond odd! She frantically searched her mind for information that she might have read on this type of werewolf behavior. The thing with thinking was that you couldn't do it while you were preoccupied, and she was, horribly so. Did it make her totally sick that the attentions that Remus was paying to her leg was making her thighs quiver? She had to clamp them tightly against each other in order keep from sinking to the floor. God, where was a book case to lean on when you needed one? Oh, yeah three feet away and doing her no good whatsoever at that distance.
"What the hell is he doing?" Ginny asked, in a voice that shook with disgust. "What's he going to do next, hump it?"
"Shut it, Gin." Hermione demanded through tight lips, angry at her friend's nasty comments. "He can't help it."
At least she thought he couldn't, she didn't know for sure, but she wasn't going to tell Ginny that, who knew what she'd do to Remus then.
Slowly, and with great care, Ginny reached back for her wand. Remus didn't notice her movements, he was far too busy feeling Hermione up with his snout. Gross! Not that Hermione gave any indication that she was grossed out by his bizarre – whatever it was. She came across as calm, and collected with no signs of being frightened at all. If it had been her, she would have probably done something stupid, like screaming the bookstore down, inadvertently incurring Remus's wrath, no doubt.
Ginny clutched her wand firmly, feeling much more secure now that she had it at the ready. Pointing it at Remus, she prepared to utter the spell that would confine Remus with ropes. Suddenly, Remus's head swung round and before she could protect herself, he sprung. It all took place so fast, that Hermione had only seconds to act. She grabbed Remus by the back of his robes, twisting the folds tightly around her hands and apparated away leaving a stunned and shook Ginny behind her.