Bermuda ā Winter 1999
The two slept for hours, with no sunlight able to wake them through the thick shutters. Hermione woke first and turned her head towards Remus, who still slept. It occurred to her then that this was the first time they had woken up together or, for that matter, slept (in the most literal sense of the word) together. Once or twice she had snuck into his room and crept out as soon as the deed was done, most times they had used the library. That's not to say their encounters weren't romantic, that wasn't the case, merely the result of two pragmatists colliding. Two hypocritical pragmatists who had abandoned those who'd loved them for the sake of focus in wartime.
Remus began to stir and caught her staring at him. He smiled lazily. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so well. He bought her hand up for a tender but all too brief kiss.
"Remus," she bit her lower lip in that all too tantalising way, "what are we?" Remus blinked in confusion. Surely it was too early in the day to be having this conversation, he couldn't help but think.
"I assume you don't mean what we are as people?"
"No. Well, yes. But: as people, together." Hermione, uncharacteristically, stumbled over her words and it only served to endear her to him more. He had been wondering about this too. Wondering how long they could ignore their hypocrisy.
He sat up; clearly this was a conversation for sitting up. She followed suit and they sat facing each other, cross legged. They proved a very silly sight and the two of them would have appreciated it under any other circumstances.
"Well, what do you want us to be?"
"I-I, I don't know." She was getting flustered, that all too attractive blush creeping over her jawbone, distracting Remus from the task in hand, he was about to continue beating about the bush when she found her Gryffindor courage.
"Actually, that's wrong. I do know, only I'm afraid you won't feel the same," her eloquence returned, "I want more. 'Friends with benefits' is all well and good, but that's- that's not all I want. When you're out of sight, I wonder where you are, wonder how you're holding up, if you're thinking of me. When you're out, I worry, can't rest until I know you're safe. I throw myself into my research so, so hard, so that Harry and Ginny and" she choked, "and Ron won't catch me looking at you on the other side of the room. You're in my head, Remus, and I'm not sure I ever want you to leave."
Remus was speechless, and that did not happen often. He was also more than a little touched. He felt her small hands grasping his tightly, as though afraid he would pull away ā all his excuses melted away (). He couldn't do this to her. He couldn't do this to himself.
"Hermione," his voice was thick and he saw her tense, her irises constrict: fear. "I feel the same. You are far, fartoo good for me. But God help me that I am too selfish to let you go. I can't tell you that we're going to have some great future, I don't even know that we'll outlive the bloody year. But we can have each other, while we can, however long or short a time as that might be." Hermione's entire body slumped with relief, her iron grip subsided.
She gave him a small, conspiratorial smile. "You might not be able to tell me all those things, but I can. If we see this thing through, I promise you: we're going to change the world." The two leant forwards for the kiss. It wasn't particularly passionate, but it was safe, solid and entirely theirs. Remus' heart soared and, for the first time in nineteen years, he saw his future spread out before him, saw a world in which he earned his keep, surrounded by his new family and friends, saw Hermione smiling up at him: over a book; in a white gown. Remus saw children and grandchildren running on a lawn, and a life, growing old, by Hermione's side. He'd never thought to dream for old age before.
Back to pragmatism, leaving romance far behind, Hermione and Remus went outside, sitting on the porch steps and basking in the sun while they discussed what to do. Hermione still ached oddly and didn't feel up to any kind of magic, wandless or otherwise, and Remus was confident that he didn't have the power to apparate them both all those miles home. She revealed that she didn't know any wizards on the island, which was hardly surprising, considering her family were all muggles.
"So: no owls, no floo and no broomsticks." Remus summarised, not quite able to keep the frustration from his voice. Hermione couldn't help but be relieved that the latter was the case. She couldn't stomach a broomstick for five minutes let alone for more than three thousand miles.
"What about portkey?" She asked.
Remus shook his head, "I'm afraid that if I cast an unauthorised portus charm the Death Eaters will be around our heads before we can go anywhere. Besides, I don't want them anywhere near your family." Hermione felt a little swell of affection for his protectiveness.
"Well, we'll have to take a plane. If I can get to a computer, I can book the tickets online." Remus looked utterly confuddled, Hermione couldn't help but laugh, stifling herself as best she could when she saw annoyance flicker across his features.
"I'm sorry. Which bit didn't you get."
Remus, to his credit, managed a wry smile, "None of it."
Hermione smiled at him and took his hand, leading him down the steps, "There's nothing for it then: you'll have to meet my family." She laughed as she pulled the slightly terrified looking man behind her, towards the lane, "Honestly. You looked less afraid when you set Bellatrix on fire."
After a few minutes of walking they arrived at another house, painted white this time with teal shutters and windows. There was a long walk to the front door and Hermione felt the sweat on Remus' hands. Once they were at the door she knocked, before Remus could protest. There was a friendly call from inside the house. When the door swung open there was an open faced and smiling woman standing in the doorway, apron on and bowl in hand.
"Hermione?" The bowl slipped from the woman's hand and it was only Remus' lupine reflexes that saved it from smashing on the doorstep.
"Aunt Jane!" Hermione was hugging the woman hard and receiving back in kind, "It's so good to see you."
"You too, but what on earth are you doing here?" Jane replied, pulling back and studying her niece's face, finding dirt and premature lines. She ushered them into the house before waiting for a reply, before she had even taken in Remus. She was slightly taken aback when he handed her back her bowl, as though she hadn't seen him before. "And who is this?"
"This is Remus, he's⦠a good friend of mine. We're not supposed to be here, it was," Hermione bit her lip, and cast a guilty look to Remus, "an accident." Jane's eyebrow shot up and suddenly Remus saw the family resemblance. There were the mutual overactive eyebrows, the same hourglass figure and the same small, full lips.
"Is this, ahem," Jane looked over to him, and Hermione nodded, "magic related?" her mouth seemed to struggle to form the 'm' word.
"It is, but I can't go into it. You know I can't" Jane looked unimpressed.
"What do you need?"
"Just the computer, just for a minute." With that Hermione strode off and Remus was left standing in the foyer with Jane. He smiled awkwardly at her before she walked off, gesturing that he could follow.
Jane led him into a bright kitchen. It wasn't big, but it felt homey. There was something in the oven, the wolf senses kicked in, he picked up powdered sugar and chocolate. Remus' stomach suddenly gave a lurch and he was sure that even Jane's ears picked up the growl of his stomach. He hadn't eaten since breakfast the past day, food hadn't even occurred to him until now.
"Here," Jane offered him a plate of the cookies which must have been part of an earlier batch, "they're chocolate crinkle cookies. You like chocolate, I hope?"
Remus laughed, "You have no idea." He told her as he sat at the counter, tucking in. They were incredible, and he told her as much. He watched her while she worked; he wondered if Hermione would look like her in thirty years. He would be a lucky man if she did. If he lived to see it. If she did.
He knew the questions were coming, braced himself. Hermione should not have told her family about the wizarding world, and he would not compound her mistake.
"Remus, I know you don't want to tell me anything, but please, I need to know. I don't know what's happened to her parents, she won't tell me. Is she," Jane placed her hand pleadingly on his, "is Hermione in danger?"
Once again Remus felt his resolve wane ā there must be something to these Granger girls.
"I shouldn't tell you what she doesn't want you to know."
"Should I worry?" She asked so plainly, and so clearly out of genuine love for Hermione that Remus couldn't contain himself.
"There's a war going on, for our kind. Someone very dear to Hermione is at the centre of it and she's certainly in the fray. You should be very," he ducked into her eye contact to make her believe him, "very proud of her. She's the brightest witch I've ever known."
Jane nodded, tears in her eyes, "Will she get hurt?"
"Not if I have any say in the matter. I would sooner die." She watched him before seeming to make up her mind about something.
"Remus, I don't know what's going on with you two, but I'm going to have to trust that you want the best for her. Promise me you'll protect her. Bring her home, safe." Jane squeezed his hand hard before she turned away. The oven pinged and the moment was gone, Jane was dry eyed and all business.
Hermione entered the kitchen and stole a cookie off of Remus' plate.
"We're on the eight o' clock plane tonight. We'll be back in London tomorrow morning. Do you mind, Jane, if we hang around here until then?" She asked.
"Not at all."
That was how they found themselves sitting outside all day, enjoying the sunshine while they could. They traipsed down to the dock and dangled their toes in the water. They talked and laughed, fattened themselves up on cookies and rum cake and, when far from Aunt Jane's eyeline, they kissed under the Bermudian sun. They ignored all responsibilities, ignored the guilt of having left their friends many miles behind, with no word to let them know they were safe.
The time came to leave, but not before Jane had plied them with baked goods, 'for the road', and asked for the two to sit a moment while she fetched her camera. Remus knew she wanted a memento, just in case. They waited on the swings. The sky was beginning to get dark now. Hermione sagged against him, on her swing and he slung an arm around to stop her from falling.
"I used to come out here all the time. I could swing higher than any of my cousins. I thought it was skill, longer legs or something, refused to believe it was anything else. I think it was magic now. My life's all been a little bit backwards. Sums up my life, in a way, doesn't it?"
