Stages

Disclaimer: Canon Harry Potter and everything related to it doesn't belong to me.

A/N – I put off reading Cursed Child to finish, edit and post this chapter. Leave me some love at the end for the great sacrifice I made? ;)

Remus kisses her.

Chapter Fourteen: Like His Journey

Remus Lupin loves Hermione Granger.

He offers it to her in touch. Hand on the back of her head curling a little more possessively than he intends, he touches his mouth to hers and breathes in the air that escapes from just only parted lips. Her mouth is soft and warm and doesn't give under his; he doesn't want it to. He wants her, so much, but he wants her to want him back, so he doesn't take. He pauses.

He gives himself in the light press of a chaste kiss and begs in his mind that she return what he's offering.

His heart booms violently when she does. That sound emerges for the third time but it's outrageously different, a kind of gasping little keen, and then she's surging forward and her mouth is opening and she's kissing him. Her hands spring up to cup his jaw and her head tilts and the outside world vanishes, light and sound and touch and knowledge narrowing to her and the feel of her body against his. Remus's gasp is almost soundless.

The rumble that comes from deep in his chest definitely isn't.

She's heat. She's fire, burning through him, marigold a drug that makes his head spin. Her tongue glides over his, a slow slide that's a foil to the eager little sounds he's drinking in, the scrape of her nails against the scruffiness at his jaw. She breaks away and comes back, and he can't think as they give and take, reaching, aching for more, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't need to.

All he needs is this woman, in his arms, kissing him like it'll save the very world.

He's breathing heavily when he drags himself from her and presses his lips to the dip in her chin, her cheek, then the richly scented skin just under her ear. She whimpers, and sighs, and shudders when he draws at her pulse point, leaving a mark, and the rumble's a purr in his chest. Her mouth soon pulls him back and he draws from there too, the hand not still buried in her hair clutching at her waist.

Her body-heat is an electric jolt when she shifts, wriggling in his lap, and her shirt edges up. The skin at her waist is soft and his thumb brushes along it. He groans into her mouth, and she trembles in response, and it's with great reluctance when he pulls back and drops his forehead onto her chest. Her hands find their way into his hair and he can feel her heart beating triple-time, her breathing fast. His head is foggy and he's half-hard, and he's pretty sure he'd be fully erect if it wasn't for the fact that his body has been through the mill and then some.

All from a kiss or two.

It's good. Fuck, it's good, but it's too much, and it's too soon. His chest hurts and he doesn't think it's only from kissing the woman of his dreams until he can't breathe. He drags in a breath through his nose and his lungs rattle and compress when he lets it out again. Hermione shivers when it blows across her throat.

"R-Remus?"

The huskiness in her voice goes straight through him and the low burn in his chest intensifies. He swallows. The anvil is taking on weight. But he doesn't want her away from him.

Her fingers scratch at his scalp, making his blood buzz, and Remus leans into the feeling with a sigh, wincing at the way he wheezes. Hermione's fingers stop moving.

"Are you in pain?" she demands in a far too high voice. She's moving before he can answer and Remus will die before he admits that he can breathe easier without her sitting in his lap. Except he's already done that. His brow furrows.

"Remus, answer me!"

As bossy as ever. The fogginess in his head isn't clearing and the exhaustion just seems to creep up on him. Swallowing again, he shakes his head and leans back, reaching for her in an absent but necessary gesture. He smiles when her hand wraps around his and he watches the worry in her face through half-lidded eyes.

"I'm tired," he mumbles, his eyes closing entirely. It's an effort to force them back open, but he does when he feels the bed shift and her hand start to leave his. "No, don't go. You're tired too. You… haven't been sleeping."

Hermione frowns and mutters "bloody Sirius," under her breath, and Remus smiles again. She sighs and then she's touching him, brushing the hair back off his forehead so gently, it has his heart picking up speed. "I am tired. So let's both sleep, eh? I'll see you in the morning."

"You'll see me even sooner if you sleep with me," Remus says, and then his eyes jerk open wide and his neck heats. A smile breaks across Hermione's face.

"Moving a little fast aren't we, Lupin?"

"No, I didn't mean it like-"

Her laughter cuts him off. "I know what you meant, Remus," she says, grinning at him. "I'm only teasing. Budge up, would you?"

It shocks him a little, how hard it is to move his body. But the thought of her pressed into his side is drive enough, and he manages to clear some space. He only meant on top of the covers with the spare blanket over her – her breath on his shoulder is all he needs – but she toes off her shoes and pulls his covers back, and then she's sliding in beside him. Her head finds his shoulder and her leg drapes over his, her arm doing the same across his chest.

He can feel all of her. Remus clears his throat, shifting a little. He's actually fucking thankful for the exhaustion at that moment, because if his body wasn't heavy and useless there's no way in hell he'd be able to sleep.

"All right?" Hermione whispers. Her hand moves, gliding down to his stomach and pushing up his shirt until she's touching his skin. Remus jumps, then swears he feels her smirking into his shoulder. His lips twitch.

That's his witch.

"Yeah," he says, the heat of her giving the exhaustion new life. "'sis perfect." Then, "Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she answers, voice slow with sleep.

"You mine now then?"

He feels her body tense and then relax, and then he feels her laugh against his side. Her head lifts and she's shifting and then there's the achingly light brush of her lips across his.

"Only if you're mine too, you sweet, foolish man."

Always have been, Remus thinks. Her body does that tensing thing again and then she's sliding back against his side and marigold surrounds him.

He sleeps.

~0~

"Well, bugger me days."

The exclamation winds its way through his brain, tugging at his consciousness and making his eyelid flutter. There's a mass of warmth curled into his chest that moves at the same time, the scent in every breath he takes. Her scent. Remus's brain snaps awake and he looks down at the woman he's come to cradle during the night. Hermione's face is buried in his chest, the covers up to her chin. Both of her hands are all the way under his shirt, her palms to his chest over his heart.

It's as if, even in sleep, she needs to feel the evidence that he's alive and well. The corner of his mouth tugs up, and Remus lowers his head to rest it on the top of hers, turning to raise a brow at a widely grinning, still wheelchair-bound Sirius, who's taken up residence at the end of the bed.

"I really rather not have anything to do with your arse at all, Padfoot, thanks all the same," Remus says, then grins when Hermione snorts softly against him. She sighs and turns her head to peer out at Sirius as well. Her hands don't move.

"Can we help you with something, Sirius?" she asks. Remus's heart slams in his chest and his arms around her waist tighten. He doesn't think it's possible for his best mate's grin to get any bigger.

"So this is a thing now? You two have finally fucking stopped pussyfooting around and sorted your shit out?"

Remus hesitates. It's so new and he want so much to be certain, but he doesn't want to make assumptions. Hermione's fingers float along his skin. Her head turns up to Remus.

"We're together," she says, looking directly into his eyes. His chest expands and there's pressure in his head, and he kisses her because it's the only thing he can do. He cups her cheek and kisses her, and he feels…

New. He feels new.

"It's about bloody time! I thought I'd be grey before you two got your heads together!" Sirius says, but Remus isn't listening. He's kissing his Hermione and all seems right with the world. He almost doesn't hear Sirius clear his throat pointedly sometime later. "Guys? Not that I mind the snog-fest and all, but we'll have two very impressionable teenagers here shortly. Christ, listen to me trying to be the sensible one. Guys? Moony, for Merlin's sake, stop trying to eat her face off! It'll still be there later!"

Groaning, Remus pulls back. Impressionable teenagers? Ah. Well. Yes, better stop.

"You don't think Harry's interested in Ella, do you?" he asks breathlessly, running his hand up and down Hermione's back. His newly-minted girlfriend snorts again and shakes her head before reluctantly pulling away and climbing from the bed. Her clothes are rumbled and her hair is a tangled nest of a mess. Remus wets his lips and looks away.

"No. Believe me, Harry doesn't fancy Ella at all," Hermione says dryly. She drags her hands through her hair, grimacing when her fingers catch on snags, and throws Sirius a dirty look when he smirks at her. Remus carefully shifts over onto his back and wonders if it's possible for him to get up that day.

He grimaces when he realizes that it most likely isn't. The anvil is gnawing steadily at his breastbone. Fucking curse.

"The other way around then?" Remus suggests to distract himself, but the curtains are tugged back and Madam Pomfrey appears before anyone can answer. Her gaze is sharp, shrewd even, as it flicks over Hermione and then darts to the way Remus is still lying on one side of the small bed. Her eyes fly back to Hermione and narrow, and Remus has to hold back his smile at the way a flush climbs up Hermione's neck, more noticeable because her chin is raised defiantly. Poppy's lips purse as she takes in her defensive posture.

"How are we doing today, Mr Lupin?" she finally asks, turning away from Hermione – whose shoulders quickly drop in relief – towards her patient and placing the numerous potion phials she's holding on the bedside table. "I don't expect you're feeling any better with the full moon so close, but we can take care of any pain you might be in."

The chill that snaps through Remus's veins is horrifically icy.

"Excuse me?"

Poppy looks up from performing a wand diagnosis at his tone. "The full moon is in four nights' time, which is why I've upped your quota of potions, to give you some greatly needed strength and to combat any enhanced symptoms. Are you all right, Remus?"

Panic so volatile it feels like it's physically crawling along his skin, Remus gapes at the school's resident mediwitch. His jaw clicks shut when her expression grows concerned, then quickly falls open again in an automatic bid to drag in oxygen as he stares blindly at the ceiling, mind ablaze. Four nights? The full moon is in four nights? And he was supposed to go through it like this?!

He's never, never, not known when the moon's going to happen. The moon rules his life as much as the beast under his skin does, and the thought that he's lost track of time so completely, he doesn't know one end of its cycle from the other…

He can't breathe.

He doesn't even realize his hand is scrambling at the sheets until hers snatches it up. Leather, spice and coal dust waft from his right and Sirius's hand grasps his shoulder. The door opens at the other end of the room and Harry and Ella's quiet voices sound loud, their scents drifting over to him. Remus grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut.

For fuck's sake.

"I'll be there. I'll be right there with you, Moony, I swear it."

"You're supposed to be recuperating," Remus hisses at the darkness behind his eyelids. "You can't be."

"I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree with Mr Lupin, Mr Black," Poppy says softly. "Magic is off limits for you at the moment, you know that."

"I'll be there, though," Hermione says from right next to him, tone fierce. "I'll be there and everything will be all right. You won't be alone." He senses movement and then comes the feeling of her lips on his forehead. "You won't ever be alone again. Not ever."

She repeats it until the children join them, and Remus lies there with his brain screaming as Ella and Harry chatter, asking how he is and how long he'll have to be in hospital. Both Sirius and Hermione stay at his side and Poppy finishes her exam and steps quietly back, as if she knows he can't do at the moment.

It's hard to be. It's so very hard to be, and it isn't until Ella blurts out, "Mum, is that a hickey on you neck?" that he pulls himself together in a way that practically literal.

Remus spits out a loud burst of laughter, the sound nearly drowning out the way Hermione gasps and slaps a hand to her neck. "What? No!"

"Sure looks like one, love," Sirius comments entirely too casually, a smirk colouring his tone. Remus laughs again when Hermione shrilly states that it's just a bruise that she got running into a tree branch, and then rubs his hand over his face and exhales hard, his eyes blinking open. The vibrating in his head is still there but is slowly subsiding. He manages to offer Poppy a weak smile when she approaches him again, handing him his first potion. Once he's taken it and the rest, the repetitive movements of reaching for each potion and swallowing them down anchoring him in reality and fully clearing his head, she shoots Hermione a sharp, pointed look.

"I'll be back to check on you in a bit. You lot clear out soon please. All of you. Remus needs his rest."

She pins Hermione with a look again, then turns and leaves, her robes whipping along behind her. "A tree branch? Weren't you just in a battle not long ago?" Ella asks once she's gone, head tilting guilelessly. The bark of Sirius's laughter fills the room. Hermione sighs.

"Enough, Ella. You and Harry need to head to breakfast now. Sirius, will you take them?"

Sirius grins. "Sure, could do with a bite to eat. Don't go running into any more tree branches while we're gone though, will you?" he says, wiggling his eyebrows, then chuckling and holding up his hands when Hermione glares at him. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, sweetheart. Come on, you two, let's get some grub. Perhaps we'll bring something back for you. Perhaps not."

He winks at Hermione, then pats Remus's shoulder before pushing the wheelchair back. Reaching out to his daughter, he tucks her hand into the crook of his arm and leads the two teenagers to the door. Remus hears Harry ask Sirius if he's missed something just before the door closes.

"We'll have to tell them at some point," he says once they're alone, turning his head slowly. Hermione smiles down at him, sheepishness haunting the edges.

"I know. I-I just… this is, um, really new, and I just wanted…"

Her face flushes and Remus is reaching for her and pulling her back onto the bed, his heart hammering. "I know how you feel," he murmurs as she settles into his side. It's a fantastic feeling, to have her there. He doesn't ever want her to move.

"Of course, we won't have us to ourselves for too long if you keep bloody putting marks on my skin," Hermione mumbles into his chest. She looks up with a mock glare when he chuckles.

"I like it there. Looks good on you."

"It looks like a bloody hickey that my just turned fourteen-year-old daughter teased me about. How am I supposed to keep her virginal into her 30's if I don't set a good example, huh?" She pokes him in the side to emphasize the point, then grins when another, louder laugh escapes him. "There we go. Doing okay now?"

Remus sighs and lifts their intertwined fingers, contemplating the way they fit for the thousandth time. "Yeah. Sorry, I've just… it's never snuck up on me that way before, you know?"

Hermione nods. "I can understand that. But you won't be alone." Her eyes are soft when her hand touches his cheek. "I meant what I said, Remus. Never again."

We'll see, Remus thinks. Then, feeling guilty and traitorous and for even entertaining the thought, he draws her closer and wraps his arms around her. They talk about mundane things for a while, Hermione seemingly content to lie there and draw patterns on his t-shirt with her fingernail.

Eventually, his brain won't let him not know.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Rolling onto her stomach and resting her chin on her clasped hands, Hermione observes him over them, frowning a little at his hesitant tone. "Sure."

"Why weren't you with me from the time I started teaching? During the moons?"

Hermione's eyes go wide. Remus worries his bottom lip as he studies her expression. The guilt from the night before floods back into her eyes, and he brushes her hair back, smoothing his hand down her back when she groans and presses her face into his chest.

"Because I'm a fucking idiot, that's why," she mutters after a few minutes. When Remus doesn't say anything, just continues to stroke his palm up and down her back, she huffs softly and lifts her head.

"I listened to Dumbledore when I shouldn't have," she continues miserably. "He said he thought it was a good idea that you learnt to manage the moons and the wolfbaned wolf yourself, without any help. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do, stupid thing to agree to, and I swear I didn't at first. I argued, Remus. But he was so logical, so bloody convincing, and we weren't… we were off, which isn't an excuse at all. I'm sorry, Remus. I'm so sorry."

He jolts anxiously at her explanation and it takes a moment to pin down why. With both his mind and his heart racing, Remus sinks back into the pillow and tries to sort out the dips and spins, the pattern of his thoughts gradually collating into a single, shining conclusion. His gut churns, panic once again trying to tighten his throat.

He doesn't want that. He doesn't want that. He doesn't want that.

Fuck Dumbledore.

"-was always there anyway, you have to know that. I was outside the window so you weren't really alone. Remus?"

He can't think about it now. He can't. Remus clears his throat. "You were there," he rasps, his hand beginning to move along her back again. He hears her sniff and leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Hermione sighs and burrows closer, her breath a puff of warmth the penetrates the material of his shirt.

"Yeah, in the trees. And I'll be with you every step of the way now, I promise."

"I know you will," he says. Running from his conclusions, his eyes drift close, and she shifts against him, his lids lifting when he feels her hand on his cheek. Hermione's frowning. Remus takes a breath, meets her eyes, and her frown grows more pronounced. Her fingers trail up to gently rub at the lines that bridge the top of his nose.

"What's wrong?" she asks softly, and for a moment, Remus considers telling her the truth. He considers telling her what he's just realized, laying it all out bare and letting her help him deal with it. But this has always been his; his life, his curse, his job. He needs to figure out what he's going to do. And he needs to do it on his own.

Smiling up at her, he shakes his head. "Nothing," he replies, his eyes closing again, pretend fatigue suddenly becoming factual. "I think I just need to sleep."

There's a lengthy silence and then, spoken quietly: "Do you want me to go?"

No, he thinks, then says, "only if you want to."

"I don't want to," she mutters, sitting up. "Poppy can go jump in the lake. But there's something I've been working on that I can't leave too much longer. You sleep. I'll go get it, see to the kids and be back before you wake up."

Remus smiles. Christ, this woman's a marvel. "Yes, ma'am," he murmurs, then yelps softly in surprise when his nose is brutally flicked, his eyes opening just enough to see her standing over him with her hands on her hips, lips twitching. Hermione laughs when she catches his indignant expression.

"Go to sleep," she orders, grinning at him. Then, darting in, she kisses him firmly on the mouth, hops around while trying to put her shoes on, then hurries from the cubical and out of the room. Remus sighs and gives in to the exhaustion, and when he wakes again, she's right there, sitting scrunched up in a chair and scribbling something on an important looking piece of parchment.

Remus touches her knee. She smiles at him. And when the moon comes days later and he endlessly cleaved into broken, bloodless fragments, the pain so much worse than any month before, he painstakingly peels his eyes open once he's Moony, and just looks at the little owl making anxious sounds of inquiry into his ear. Her feathers are ruffled, her eyes massive spheres. Her body is shaking so much, she looks like she's going to shake to pieces.

Remus thinks that if it were possible for owls to weep, his brilliant witch would be drenching his coat.