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It was like she had just woken up. Like she had just woken up like any other day before. No one ran to welcome her back with tight hugs or tears of joy. Ron said "Morning," at least that's what she thought he said through his mouth of bacon and toast, and Harry didn't even say anything.

She felt detached from herself as she was pushed and pulled around the small kitchen, her hair twisted into something acceptable (although that really wasn't necessary anymore). In fact the only attention that she pulled was from her newly contained curls, however unlike the praise she had first received this was more along the lines of "Why didn't you do this yesterday?" accompanied by the accusing glare of Molly Weasley who thought the hair an act of treason against the importance of her eldest son's wedding.

Finally released from the clutches of the crimson nailed hairdresser and granted 'ready' but for the absence of her bouquet she was grateful for the escape Harry provided when he asked if she wanted to help them carry the breakfast back to the Burrow. She knew as a bridesmaid she should have stayed to attend to Tonks but she reasoned that her absence wouldn't be noted from the demanding attention of Mrs Weasley and Tonks' mother Andromeda that currently commanded the entourage that swamped the Black house.

Harry handed her a basket of croissants and a jug of juice to hold as they apparrated from the front steps of Grimmauld Place into the backyard of the Weasley home.

The wedding was to take place at the Burrow, making use of the set up that remained from Bill and Fleur's wedding the previous day. The men had stayed at the Burrow that night and the women not, as was the tradition of separation for the day before the wedding.

Apparently Mr Weasley or his sons had not picked up any of the cooking skills Mrs Weasley exuded and hence the youngest had been sent to scavenger the breakfast that they reasoned the women were unlikely to eat anyway in their last minute paranoia to fit into their dresses.

They boys softened their voices as they approached the backdoor.

"What are we being quiet for?" Hermione whispered as she placed her load onto the bench that stood in the middle of the Burrow's kitchen.

"Remus is still asleep. Passed out on the couch," Ron sniggered pointing towards the door to the living room. "Most of everyone else is awake upstairs but we all figured we would let him sleep it off as much as he could, considering how much he had to drink last night."

"Oh," she said her eyes glued to the closed door.

"Well, ah me and Ron have to go get dressed. Do you think you could set up breakfast for us?"

"Um, sure, yeah," she replied not at all listening to what Harry was saying.

"Unless you want to come help me - OW watch it Harry!"

"Shhh don't wake Remus," Harry replied as Ron rubbed his arm where Harry had elbowed him.

It wasn't until she heard the bang of a door closing above her that she realized they had gone.

Without hesitation she strolled quickly to the living room door, turning the knob before her mind could convince her otherwise.

And there he was.

Sprawled out adorably on the couch like a ragdoll that had been abandoned by a child. Standing in the doorway she could see his chest move steadily up and down. His face was almost obscured, his cheek pressed into the couch cushion and his hair falling onto the exposed half.

She had wondered, even perhaps hoped, that seeing this older version, the Professor that she had known, would separate the two in her mind and would make this day easier, but she had known before she had seen him this a false hope because even in her mind the Remus she had grown to love had always been the same Professor. They were one, inseparable person, she adored the Remus in the past not only because of her time spent with him there but for the caring and admirable person she had knew he would become.

And so as she gazed upon the sleeping form of her Professor, her Remus, the selfish part of her would not regress, it would not accept without admission that he did not love her anymore. That he did not care for her. For she found it entirely incomprehensible that the love that she held for him would ever disappear.

She stepped into the room closing the door soundly behind her, and without removing her eyes once from the slumbering man before her she moved to meet him, kneeling down beside his head.

She brushed his hair from his face taking a moment to absorb him once more, uninterrupted, in case this would be her last opportunity to do so.

He had more scars, she noticed. Her fingers moved without conscious thought to trace the new lines that ran the length of his cheek.

There was no denying he had aged, the grey hairs that streaked his sandy mane adding emphasis to the fact. Hermione had never been a very vain person but she was surprised by the affection to which she found herself holding these attributes. No one else might see him as the teenage 'god' she had once found herself admitting to see him as, but perhaps tainted by her heart's hold on the man, she still thought him the most handsome man she had ever met.

Like the fingers that had traced his scars only moments before she found her lips following that unconscious path, lowering to meet his.

He shifted in his sleep as her lips touched his.

"Tonks?" he muttered, eyes still closed he did not see the pain a simple sleep induced word afflicted to the young woman kneeling before him.

Her selfish side had got it's answer and unable to cause more pain unto herself she rose and quickly fled the room.

oOo

There were only two bridesmaids.

Harry and Kingsley stood beside Remus.

From the end of the aisle she could see just how Harry could often be compared as a replica of James, but she knew up close they were a lot different.

She focused on him as she made her way down the rows of people.

She was thankful that Ginny walked in front, obscuring their view of the altar and of the man she knew would be standing before it.

There was barely five meters remaining when Ginny parted her path to the left and left Hermione walking straight ahead.

Somehow she avoided his eyes. Locking her gaze to the front of his robes and trying not to assess just how good he looked in his tailored ensemble.

It would be easier if she did not see him. She could imagine it was someone else and perhaps try to look happy for her friends wedding day rather than the somber funeral march that the walk down the aisle had seemed.

This tactic might have worked if were not for his voice.

She shook, most likely visibly, as they exchanged vows, she was only grateful that his were not long winded and full of heart felt sentiments. Just the required.

Tonks' were somewhat longer, a more impassioned promise of love than his. But reflecting on it later she might have imagined it, her jealous heart vindicating the witch and absolving her wizard.

She stood, with minimal swaying as her heart was broken apart by the words spoken just an arms length away from her.

But it was not until the end of the ceremony that the physical pain struck her. As the sermon ended and the married couple sealed their union with the physical display of affection, the dreaded kiss, Hermione's leg trembled with unexpected outrage. Her mouth shut tight to contain the scream as she felt the deep wounds split open and the trickle of blood run down her thigh before it was absorbed by the surrounding bandage.

No one noticed as the bridesmaid gripped the tier behind her for support, no longer able to stand by using her protesting muscles.

The seats disappeared as before and under the cover of the commotion created by appearing waiters, solidifying dance floor and reappearing chairs Hermione fought her way out of the crowd that had began to swarm towards the married couple and made her way unsteadily beyond the white tent.

She was able to reach the obscuring shadow of a tree before she collapsed onto the ground.

Taking out her wand she pulled up the skirt of her dress to examine the damage. Little pinpricks of blood could be seen on the top layers of dressing but as she unwound the cover it was apparent that the bleeding, although intense at the moment of pain, as was indicated by it's ability to seep through the thick layers, had ceased. The area was red and raw and tender to the touch but the bleeding had at least abated.

The reaction still worried her. Would it happen every time they kissed? Or was it a result of their binding and a release of his bond with her? For once she had no clue. Remus had never gotten around to explaining their connection in anymore detail to her.

She used her wand to clean the bandage and with another flick of her wrist it was winding itself back around her leg.

She stood up cautiously testing the weight she could put on her leg.

It was sore, but she could still walk.

She turned with intent to find her way back to the assembly of people when she hit a solid chest instead of the air she expected.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, using his hands on her arms to steady her as she looked close to falling.

"S'okay," she returned with a tight smile. It was the best she could do.

"Are you alright?" he asked stooping his frame so he could match her eye level.

Her smile held a little more sincerity. "Just feeling a bit off," she assured.

"Okay," he accepted although his voice was still etched with concern. He pulled her arm into the crook of his elbow as he started a slow pace to lead them back to the tent.

There weren't as many guests as with the wedding the day before and so Harry had been allowed to keep his visage, Hermione was glad - he didn't make a very good Weasley, not to mention he was a terrible actor.

"I wanted to warn you as well..."

Hermione raised her eyebrow in invitation to continue.

He sighed in reluctance, "it's Ron."

Hermione sighed too. "Can he not do this now?"

"I know," Harry assured her that he was on her side for this one. "He's been going on about it all morning but I'll try to deter him for you since you're not feeling well."

Hermione pulled his arm closer, giving it a tight hug. Harry smiled at his small friend.

"Anything for you 'Mione," he whispered as they reached the tent and he took his arm back. "Don't forget we have to dance later," he winked at her as he put her in her seat next to Ginny and went to take his further along the table reserved for the wedding party.

She spent most of the night watching the world, distorted, through her full wine glass. She twirled the glass stem in her fingers trying to determine the identity of the people she could see through the bubbling liquid. Ginny was talking to her about something. She didn't know what but an educated guess would probably have her saying Harry.

The dancing had started not too long ago and she could see Ron's glances in her direction becoming longer and more frequent.

While her glass had remained full the entire night, although she entirely wished it could have been the opposite, Ron's fluctuated frequently and she was sure it wouldn't be too long until he would gather up enough alcohol induced courage to ask her to accompany him on a fumbling feeling dance extravaganza.

As if she held the script to the universe in her hand she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he took an extra long sip of his drink and stood, somewhat unsteadily, and set his slight swagger to her direction.

She couldn't have felt more grateful to anyone at that moment, unless they had revealed this nightmare to be a just that - a nightmare, as Harry stood up to intervene his friend.

Not wanting to take any chances Hermione made to turn out of her chair, contemplating whether she had yet spent sufficient time as to not appear too rude if she left.

She had barely swung one leg to the side of her chair, however, as a hand was placed in invitation in front of her.

Surely Ron hadn't gotten away from Harry that quickly?

But as her eyes traced up the length of the arm it was not Ron that held out his hand, nor was it Harry.

"Would you care for a dance?" Remus bowed slightly as his hand stood enticingly in front of her.

She opened her mouth not sure what to say and unsure if she could say anything when the band started a new song and her head snapped towards them in recognition of the familiar melody.

She wasn't sure what the song was called; she only knew it as 'Lily's song'. On a battery operated cassette player that she had brought to the castle with her, Lily would pull out the small player and force her music tastes upon the small group. To be honest it wasn't that bad but the unfortunate part came with the fact that Lily had only brought along one tape. Unable to expand her collection by the selection of stores in the wizarding town of Hogsmeade they were forced into the repetitiveness of the 12 track music player and in particular this song that Lily would choose to play repeatedly over the others. By the end of the first semester Hermione doubted there was one Gryffindor who did not know the words of this particular song, finding themselves unconsciously humming it's tune while they sat in front of the fire doing their homework.

"You played this to us, didn't you? On that record player, in our third year?" Hermione's head snapped back to meet his as he took her hand for himself and pulled her from her seat.

"Yes," he smiled down at her as he led her out to the dancefloor which was littered with couples. "It's an old favourite of mine. I tried to find it on cassette but could only uncover the record. Just as the same though."

"Mmm yes," Hermione wondered how she had allowed him to take her so easily from her seat and just what she was going to do now as he stopped before her.

She didn't have to worry as he easily slid his hand into hers and slipped another around her waist.

The song was slow and she found herself softly drifting towards his chest as they danced lightly around the floor. It wasn't long before her head had found a place upon her shoulder and she was fit snug against him.

She felt him lean his head into the matching place her shoulder provided and could feel his warm breath caress her bare skin. She was grateful for the crowded floor and that he had dragged her to the middle of the dancing couples, their twirling forms providing cover for something that would surely look inappropriate between a former Professor and student.

But the song ended too quickly and the moment with it, as the couples pulled apart to applaud the band he pulled her away from him as if he had just realized how close they had been.

Her head tilted as she studied his face. Before, when he was sleeping, he had looked so much like her Remus but now, even though still so much similar she thought she would give up breathing just to touch him again, there was something different ... something ...

"Your eyes aren't blue."

And they weren't. They were more grey. They at least definitely not the deep ocean swirls that she had grown so accustomed too.

"What?" Remus started drawing attention to Hermione that she had indeed spoken her thoughts.

She was saved the act of reply when Tonks pushed her way through the crowd towards them capturing his attention.

And like a slap in the face Hermione was pulled back from her thoughts into the reality that surrounded her. This wasn't her Remus. Her Remus had blue eyes. Her Remus wasn't married. Her Remus loved her...

"Goodbye Remus," she whispered turning before he could see the tears that had threatened all night finally tracing their way down her cheeks.

After identifying Tonks as the one calling his name, he turned back to Hermione only to discover she was gone and so, ignoring the tingle in his skin that marked the places where her skin had touched his, Remus turned back to greet his wife.