Author Notes: Oh my feels antenna must have been on for this one! I hope you enjoy the build.
It was a series of changes that rippled through the bookish friends. They had left Andromeda's house with the elderly witch waving them off. No arguments, no dismay, a little sadness for seeing her grandson go, but a knowing smile as well. Hermione and Remus spent the better part of Sunday cleaning up the torn residence and figuring out a nifty way to board up the screeching Mrs. Black.
Hermione ended up in the master, Remus insisted, and she tidied the room up substantially before the evening. The Lupins had decided to settle on the second floor, the bathroom was accessible, the rooms were less destroyed, and Remus had an easier route to the drawing room where he could read in peace.
The night drew to a close and with it, Monday would be approaching. Hermione had disappeared after dinner to settle in for the evening, leaving the father to be entirely alone after his son had gone to bed. Which, by anyone's view would have been a blessing after the hard work and magical prowess each of the adults displayed today.
However, he was scowling down at his book and reread the same line a handful of times before exhaling. He climbed from the chair, leaving the room with the crackling fire to sneak up the staircase. It was a dark ascent, but he didn't mind it as much as memories of Sirius snickering about his family fraud drummed into his mind. It was at the second to last floor that he paused and turned toward the freshly painted door.
He halted his hand, knuckles at the ready, and breathed. Remus listened to see if he could hear any sound to give way at her being awake. There was nothing, and he breathed with a laborious yield before dropping his hand. He hoped that she would continue with their traditions regardless of the setting, but it seemed his desires were mote.
The door clicked and turned, opening to reveal a dressed down Hermione Granger in a night robe and shorts. "Remus, I thought you were going to bed," she spoke with wide eyes.
"Oh, I just came to offer, well, more of an inquiry- did you want some tea?" He struggled as he stepped back from the door.
Hermione's lips curled as she tilted her head. "I was heading down to the drawing room for some reading before bed. Would you like to join me?"
"Stellar idea, Hermione, as usual," Remus said with a nod.
Hermione wrapped her robe tighter around her figure as she walked by him. "As long as you promise not to bite," she teased.
Remus was staring at the back of her head with eyebrows well above their resting place. If he didn't know any better, that was a playful stab. He followed the young witch and attempted to sort out if she was playful for the sake of warming the tone of his awkward stance at her door, or if she meant it.
What the werewolf was not privy to was the witch's grimace. Of course, she couldn't be embarrassed about something as trivial as a joke, but what was she thinking? Hermione half expected a chiding once they were in the comforts of the drawing room. That was completely inappropriate, and she knew it was coming.
The witch settled on the sofa and pursed her lips as the werewolf crossed the room. Remus had snatched a bottle off the desk he must have been drinking from and brought over the single glass by the armchair on a side table. He sat down next to her and replicated the glass before pouring them each a helping. "So, what will it be tonight? Old charms from Greece, or the relativity of magical travel?" He asked while offering her a drink.
Remus had skirted over the whole thing. That caused a crease in Hermione's expression before sipping her glass. "How about lunar magic and the correlation between the moon phases and the intensity of magical properties?" Hermione asked.
Remus smirked and held up his finger. "Ah, a perfect subject. I was going through the book that an old wizard by the name of Jeremiah Hawkins wrote on animagi and lunar magic."
Hermione maneuvered, setting down her glass, and rested against the werewolf as he flicked his wand and the book on the table floated over. Most of the time they read separately, discussing what they had drawn from the content, but tonight was a quiet night.
She wasn't positive how the werewolf knew on which nights, the few and far between, that she just needed his voice. So, on those rare occasions, Hermione would rest against the warmer werewolf and listen to him read aloud and stroke her hair. Maybe it was affectionate instinct. Or just maybe he could smell it on her- she never asked.
Before Remus began reading, his thumb traced her scarred letters on her arm. "Hermione, can you answer me a riddle?"
Hermione murmured approval as she wrapped his arm over her, giving her access to his chest so she could lean against him. He waited a moment as he watched her darker fingers caress his hand over her forearm. The gorgeous interpretation of blended scars and color caused a mild distraction for the werewolf.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"Do you think back on your decisions with agreement or regret?"
She hummed and nuzzled his chest. "Agreement, always. You taught me to never regret what I do for those I love, Remus," she sighed.
He smiled and brushed his beard against her hair. "I can't take credit for that. You were well on your way to that core trait before I even met you," He said while noting the scent of her new shampoo.
"If I died tomorrow, would you miss this?"
What a question. It through Remus entirely off guard and he stiffened at it. "Why would you even ask such a thing? Of course, I would miss everything about you."
Her hand covered his as it still kneaded at the scar- almost as if he wished it away. "I still dream of that night," she sighed.
Her entire demeanor changed as her fingers grew tense. "It's alright, I'm here," Remus whispered and kissed her hair.
"I know you don't think I need you, Moony, but I do," she breathed and curled further into him.
Soon her legs were over his lap as she huddled against the werewolf. There were no tears or painful pleas. Hermione Granger just needed him. Remus complied by pulling her closer and running fingers through her hair- the book all but abandoned. She was so brave and courageous that at times, he almost forgot just how breakable and tender the witch was.
"One night, years ago, I had a horrible transformation. It nearly killed me. James and Peter couldn't even move me from the shack I was so banged up. I believe we were in our sixth year," he paused and nosed at her head.
"What happened?" Hermione whispered.
Remus chuckled and lifted her face so that they were staring at each other. "Sirius, sometimes a pox to my own life, decided it was best to wrap me up in some blankets, heave me with James's assistance out to the grass, and set off an array of spells that made the loudest noises. Now, not only was I severely injured, I was now nearly deaf from the sound. However, it did draw a professor's attention, and our luck was that Minerva came striding toward us in full fury. They got detention for injuring me on accident, and I was safely taken to the hospital wing to recover from a prank gone awry."
Hermione smiled and even laughed a little at the memory. "That sounds just like Sirius," she remarked before rubbing her eyes.
"He was my greatest friend. I loved him deeply, and until a couple of years ago, that void was endless without him."
Hermione sighed with a nod. "Teddy has a way of curing sadness."
"I wasn't referring to Teddy. He's my son and my love for him has a whole new room in my heart I never thought I'd be allowed to touch. I was referring to you. You're companionship, and deep understanding of me has filled many dark nights with comfort and kindness. You are my most esteemed ally and friend that can bear witness to my life without my marauders. I would never recover from your loss."
Hermione grasped his shoulders and was nearly in his lap as she held him. "Nor I, you, Moony. You are my favorite cure."
Remus pulled her closer and chuckled. "Cure to what?"
"To walking this world alone," she sighed.
Never in his life had something someone said been so relatable. He was so touched and heartbroken that someone he felt could very well be the next Minister of Magic felt so isolated from the world. Their pains echoed so clearly that he exhaled and wrapped his arms around her, encasing her in warmth. If he had any duty left in this world aside from raising his son, it was to make sure that this witch always felt his gratitude and affection.
"You wormed your way in, just like Sirius," he breathed.
Her hot breath was on his neck as she choked out a laugh. "Yes, he did have a way about him. Must have been a Black trait because your son and his grandmother did the same with me," Hermione said in a small voice.
"Yes, and Dora," Remus agreed with a chuckle. "Oh, that witch was relentless and fierce. She had me running for a long while."
Hermione peeled herself away far enough to stare into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Remus."
The werewolf shook his head and ran a thumb over her cheek. "Don't be. It doesn't hurt to recall her memory anymore. I had to learn to grow from that instinct when Teddy started asking all about her."
She glanced down between them and exhaled. "I know, but it's still difficult."
"Did I ever tell you how she tricked me into our first kiss?" He asked with a smirk.
"How?" Hermione questioned.
"This is an excellent story," he responded, drawing her attention back to his face. "She told me to prove that I wasn't a poof by kissing her. A laughable accusation, a poor test, but after two whole weeks of snickering, I had my wits end of the taunting. She took every chance she had at mentioning Sirius. Remarking on his looks, his style, anything to get me to either agree or kiss her."
Hermione rolled her eyes and tilted her head. "Well, you were rather close to Sirius. I assume she was rather jealous."
"I made a mistake in thinking a kiss was satisfactory," He said with a grin. "She was never about moderation and I, a fool."
That made Hermione's cheeks darken, and she fidgeted to remove herself from Remus's personal space. "Well, it's to be expected," she mumbled.
Remus scowled at the retreat of the witch and hemmed. "Does talking about her make you uncomfortable?"
"No, of course, not!" Hermione huffed.
He could smell the culmination of her barbed frustration in the air. "I just needed to be sure," he said as his expression grew tight.
Hermione glanced toward the fireplace as she sat against the opposite arm of the sofa. "I couldn't be uneasy talking about your wife, Remus," she responded.
"I wanted to because she isn't the sum of my heart anymore, Hermione. Pain, loss, broken fragments of our souls, they all mend or learn to cope. I am the product of reconditioning after destruction every month. Also, if I share my memories and experiences with you, you take a piece of my heart with you."
It was so beautiful and eloquent that Hermione let the few tears trickle down her cheek as she stared at the crackling fire. "Remus, if I could, I would bring her back for you."
He smiled sadly and maneuvered on the sofa closer to Hermione. "If I could, I would have taken what that monster did to you instead. I would have shouldered that pain for you because someone so lovely and brilliant should have never been treated with that much lack of humility."
Hermione launched at him, knocking him flat on the couch. Her face was tucked against his neck as she gripped him with urgency. "You're the best thing I've ever done, Moony," she whispered.
Remus groaned and laughed at the witch. "Oh, Hermione, you are my favorite anomaly. Bright, beautiful, and unnaturally kind. Now, I believe a bit of spirit, a good book and some sleep are a prescription to a decent day at work for you, darling."
The witch nodded against him, and they carefully sorted out a decent position- one where the emotional witch wasn't resting against the werewolf's hips. He reached over to the glasses and let her drain her own before following suit. The book back in his hand, his arms curled around Hermione resting in front of him, they relaxed on the large sofa, and he read to her. She was out within minutes, but he remained, enjoying the comforts of her body tucked against his chest. There was this part of him that wished they didn't have to see the sunrise and greet Monday with vim. A large, zealous part. His last thoughts were how delightful her hair smelt as he closed his eyes.
