Sirius chuckled and accioed his wand. He flicked it lazily at the fireplace, which sprang to life and casted a soft glow over the room. Noticing that they were covered in a sheen of sweat, he cast a quick cleansing charm over them and drew a blanket from the couch down on top of them. He smiled and draped his hand over her stomach, drawing lazy circles around her belly button before he too found the ability to keep his eyes open was a far too difficult task.
Sirius awoke to find the lovely Ms. Granger wrapped tightly into his embrace. It had been a long time since he had opened his eyes to find a warm, delicate, little body pressed so perfectly into his own. His hand absently found its way into her dry curls, winding and unwinding one around his finger. He smiled and shifted to make himself more comfortable. Catching a quick glance at the clock, he noticed that there was still just over an hour before Harry was expected home. Casting his thoughts back to the warmth in his arms, he stole another glace at her sleeping form. If he didn't know better, he would have thought her delicate; precious like a porcelain statue. However, he did know better.
She was strong. Stronger than any woman he could think of. She was intelligent, pensive and so incredibly beautiful. He couldn't help but replay the recent memory of their lustful tryst in his mind. He had always liked the figure of a lady; firm, lithe, willowy. However, Hermione was no lady; she was, without a doubt, a woman. A little extra padding on her body softened her formerly teenaged angles, she had the hips of a woman who had definitely bore a child – a full, rounded silhouette. He had never been attracted to a woman like her before, but there was no denying that she was radiant. He enjoyed the unfamiliar weight on his body. Many times, he had found himself in bed with a female who was so light he could barely sense her presence. Perhaps that was a comfort to him. He was getting pleasure, but the idea that 'blond girl with long legs and small breasts' wasn't a permanent fixture in his life, even in the throws of passion, made him ease into his role in their casual sex relationship. She was barely even there.
Nevertheless, Hermione, she was there. He could feel her presence, her weight, her form as she glided over his skin, as she pressed her easily on his chest to trace his inky past. No other woman had ever seen his Azkaban brands, and to be perfectly honest, he assumed he would never allow any woman to see them. Afraid she might judge him, or worse, pity him. However, the look on Hermione's face when her eyes met his heaving chest, there was nothing but fascination. She didn't want to offer her pity; she had no look of disgust or increasing attraction to the 'bad boy'; only interest. She touched them like a lover caresses the cheek of their intended when they silently speak the 'I love you' that is no longer required to be voiced; from long acquired comfort with each other, from two people so long in sync that a lifetime could pass wordlessly.
Hermione shifted slightly in his arms, her brow furrowed. Sirius wiped a strand of hair out of her face, and smiled at how familiar that look was. She was thinking in her sleep instead of dreaming. Even in slumber, her mind didn't stop moving. Only one other person he knew of thought while sleeping. Back in his school days, he would spend many nights looking to the four poster next to his in Gryffindor tower to see the beautiful lycan through his parted curtains, deep in thought, and deep in sleep.
Deep in thought and deep in sleep. Hermione carefully stepped through the expansive den in Grimmauld place, stopping just short of the beautiful werewolf sleeping on the chesterfield. Extinguishing her wand, she ran her hands over the wicks of the candles on the side table, smiling inwardly as her wandless magic lit the large candles, bathing the room in a soft glow, dim enough as to not alert anyone in the hall that there was something amiss.
She knelt down on the floor to examine his sleeping form. He looked paler than usual, and so very tired. His hair was so long now that he was keeping it secured at the nape of his neck with a tie. He looked miserable. It hadn't been that long since his marriage to Tonks; usually getting married made people appear happier, lighter and more carefree, but it only seemed to depress the already weary werewolf. He appeared to have cried himself to sleep, if the wet lines on his face were any indication.
She reached up and tucked back some stray hair, lightly grazing his cheek to try and slowly pull him out of his sleeping thoughts. "Remus," she whispered, "Remus, please wake up."
Remus stirred, blinking sleepily, trying to make the figure in front of him come into focus. "Hermione?" he asked, his vision settling into a pool of beautiful sepia eyes.
"Yes, it's me Hermione. May I sit?" she asked.
Remus sniffled and wiped at his face to push away the sleep, then quickly sat up, to offer the cushion next to him for her to take a seat. He turned his body to face her, curling his legs up under his chin and resting the right side of his body against the back of the chesterfield. Hermione sat cross-legged, facing him, so close they were almost touching. It was apparent they had become very comfortable around each other since Sirius' fall through the veil. Remus looked like a little boy; all curled up on front of her like that. If he hadn't been recently crying she might have found it worthy of a chuckle. Remus was always so professional around people, but when it was just Hermione, he seemed to relax and let himself be … himself. They were kindred.
Hermione sighed. "What happened tonight, Remus?" she asked, apprehensively, allowing her forearms to settle on the top of his knees, bringing her face within inches of his to settle on top of her hands.
"I told you, Tonks is pregnant." he replied, casting his eyes away from that sepia stare.
"Yes, I understood that part. But you said that you were afraid you passed your lycanthropy on to the baby."
Remus nodded.
"That's rubbish. You would know if you passed on your lycanthropy, you would be able to detect the scent of your pack. So what are you so worried about?" she whispered.
Remus sighed. "No, the baby is not a lycan. That much is for certain." he replied, pulling the cuffs of his sweater down over the backs of his hands.
"Then what was that whole scene about?" She cocked her head to the side ever-so-slightly, much the same as the way Padfoot would do when quizzical.
"Hermione …" he began, shifting uncomfortably, "Tonks … well, Tonks and I are …uh. Well, you see … the baby ... it's …" he stumbled over his words, each causing the tears he thought he had cried all out to creep back into his eyes. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "The baby's … not mine." he choked out, feeling the hot tears leak out of the corners of his eyes. Soon his sobs wracked his body silently as he buried his head in his arms.
"Oh … oh Remus …" Hermione sputtered. Not knowing what else to say, she crawled up between his legs and wrapped her delicate little arms around the sobbing wizard. She could feel him crumbling in her embrace, and it broke her heart. She too began silently to cry, letting her tears flow freely down her face. Remus deserved every happiness in life, and has always been denied. She held him tighter, letting him weep through the heavy fabric of her bathrobe. Hermione had never seen a grown man cry before, and Remus was definitely the last man she ever imagined would break down the way he had in the last 7 hours.
Hermione let her thoughts wander to the incident earlier that evening. Harry had called him a deadbeat dad. Remus had lost it and attacked Harry, then stormed out, only to return here to cry himself to sleep on the chesterfield once everyone had gone to bed.
"I …wanted to ... fall in … love with her ... I tried … so hard … so hard … she lied … she lied …" he gasped out in between his sobs and desperate attempts to fill his lungs with air. He held onto Hermione as if she was a life preserver, letting himself fall to pieces in her tender embrace. "Nowhere to … go, I … I can't go home … my family's ... gone. It's all … gone," he choked out.
Hermione pulled herself from his arms and cupped his cheeks firmly. Aware that she still hadn't wiped away her tears, she coaxed the sobbing wizard to look into her eyes, to see that she felt his pain, and that she was being sincere. "Remus, your family is not gone." she managed between her own sobs and sniffles. "That wasn't … family … your family is … still waiting ... for you … to find them."
Remus reached up and shakily brushed the tears out of his beautiful amber eyes. He grasped at Hermione's arms, which were still caressing his cheeks, soothing him out of his sorrowful hysteria. His ambers caught her sepias and they sat like this for a few moments, just letting themselves calm down after the outburst.
Remus took a deep breath and exhaled, closing his eyes to collect himself. "It was a mistake. I made a huge mistake. It's all one mistake, after another." he cast his eyes downward and squeezed gently on her robe-covered arms. "It was hard enough to try and find love when I was only an old, poor, dangerous werewolf. Now I am an old, poor, dangerous, married werewolf. Who …" he hesitated, "who could love that?" he finished, barely a whisper.
Hermione sighed and stroked a thumb across his cheek. He was so broken. She never, ever wanted to see him like this again. He had always looked sad, tired, beaten down even at times, but he never looked broken.
There was no point in telling Remus how wonderful he was; that he was the most genuinely beautiful soul she had ever met. There was no point. Remus didn't need soothing words; he needed the touch of a loving, caring human being. He needed to feel needed. He needed to feel wanted. He just needed to feel something besides pain. Hermione choked back a sob and wiped her thumbs over his scruffy cheeks, trying to remove the evidence of his pain. His skin felt so hot under her fingers. She felt her nerves dance under her skin as the close proximity to the beautiful man began to take its toll on her. Coaxing his chin up, his woeful eyes flickered open slightly to catch the gaze of the little witch in front of him. Hermione pulled her courage and leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips.
It began as a chaste kiss, a sign of friendship, but quickly escalated to something more raw and passionate. Neither could deny the tingling sensation that was rushing through their bodies at the moment. Hermione nibbled on his bottom lip gently, giving Remus the option of where to take the moment. He shifted himself on the couch so that he could lay the gentle little witch down underneath of him on the cushions. Hermione let him dominate the situation, knowing that he needed to feel in control of something in his life, even if that control was being found in a form of lack-thereof. Remus' trembling hands roamed over her slender curves, causing her to gasp at the overpowering sensation.
Remus took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, taking in the taste of the goddess beneath him. Her hand snaked up underneath his old sweater and grazed over his warm back, tracing the lines of a lifetime of pain etched on his skin. Her other hand found it's way into his free flowing hair, letting the soft silken tresses melt into her fingers.
Remus grabbed her hip roughly as his other hand found its way into her opened robe and up underneath her modest gray t-shirt. His fingers grazed the soft underside of her breast as he shifted and ground his arousal into her own. Hermione moaned sensually into his mouth and arched her back, desperate for more contact.
Her lustful sounds seemed to bring Remus back to reality. He was in Sirius' childhood home. He had a terrible fight with his wife, Dora, and found he had nowhere to go, so he came here, to Grimmauld Place, only to pour his heart out to his only remaining friend, who he was now in the process of ravaging senseless on and old, pretentious chesterfield emblazoned with the Black Family Crest. He was taking advantage of her, and she was letting him.
Remus tore himself from Hermione's embrace and sat up quickly. He bit back a strangled sob, and let his face drop into his palms. Hermione slowly collected herself, sitting up to observe the distraught wizard who was moments ago taking her breath away. Sensing his obvious distress at the situation, she reached out and rubbed a hand up and down his arm to let him know everything was ok.
"Remus, it's ok." She spoke.
Remus flinched under her touch. His skin burned layers below where her hand had trailed, underneath numerous items of clothing. The sensation was unnerving. He quickly stood from his seat and turned his eyes away from Hermione. Wiping away a fresh set of tears, he whispered, "Forgive me…I…forgive me…" before grabbing for his scarf and mitts on the end table and making for the exit in haste.
"Remus!" she called out, thankful for the silence charms on the eerie old house. Hermione leapt from the couch and ran after him, catching him in the front hallway quickly slipping his feet into a pair of old brown hiking boots.
"Forgive me, Hermione," he mumbled, not able to look her in the eyes.
Remus made to move for the door but Hermione grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back with a force she wasn't aware she had. "Remus! Don't go! Please don't leave!" she begged, tugging on his arm while fighting back a fresh batch of tears. "Please Remus!" she sobbed.
Remus stared down at the little witch. Her curly hair was pulled back into a messy bun; a few tendrils framing her face had fallen out at some point during the evening. Her beautiful sepia eyes were red and damp, her delicate flushed cheeks stained with dried tear tracks, and he knew if he left now that more tears would come. He didn't want her to cry, he couldn't bare the thought of making the one person in the world he now cared for cry.
"I can't…I can't do this Hermione." He sobbed, turning his face away from the desperate girl. He closed his eyes and shook his head in hopes of conveying the distress he was currently in.
Hermione grabbed at his other arm now and coaxed him backwards until he bumped into the wall. She reached up and cupped his cheeks once again, stroking away the hot tears that were spilling from his closed eyes.
"Remus, don't go, please. Please stay," she whispered, moving in closer, tilting his head down to meet her lips, "don't go" she whispered against his lips, feeling his body quiver in tune with her own.
Remus was cornered. The little witch had him trapped up against the wall, and he was too weak in the heart to push away the love she was offering to him, to Remus, the married man. A married man whose wife cheated him of what little time and happiness he could hope to have, and lied to him in the process. His broken heart couldn't stand any more pain tonight…
He felt her hot breath against his lips, and nothing had ever felt so forbidden, and so right. With all the passion the werewolf could muster, he threw the little witch from him, slamming her into the opposite wall. A small whimper escaped her lips when she opened her eyes and saw that beautiful man with the fire in his eyes advance on her. His right hand found her neck while his left grasped at her hip, pulling her flush against his arousal while simultaneously pushing her into the wall with his form.
He ravaged her mind and body in the hall of the eerie Manor. And all he could think about was how right she had been when she said that his family was still waiting for him to find them. There was no denying it, he had found his family, it had been there all along.