This chapter is where the real story begins. I just wrote the intro because I didn't want to have to explain Harry and Ron's deaths in here.
Well, have fun all! Reviews are more than welcome… they are required. For me survival. FEED ME!
Ta!
-N
Chapter 1: Well… That was fast… One Month Later"Hermione!" She barely looked up as she heard him call her name, followed by the slamming of the door. Remus was home. She took a shaky breath and tried to calm herself down as quickly as she could. "Hermione? Are you here?" She pasted a smile to her face.
"In here," she called, and seconds later Remus' face appeared at the kitchen door.
"What are you doing in here?" He asked good-naturedly before being struck by a sudden, awful thought. "You weren't cooking, were you?" Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the horror-stricken look on his face. After living with Remus for a month, he'd learned several things about each other, including the fact that, even with all her talent, Hermione was the world's worst cook. Remus even went s far as to claim that she was worse than Sirius, which Hermione assumed was not generally a good thing.
"No, I was just… sitting." She went back to staring at the tablecloth. Remus sat down across from her at the tiny square table where they usually ate.
"Is something wrong?" He asked, all concern. Hermione had to smile a little at this.
"Yes."
Remus nodded softly. He could tell from the moment he walked in the door that something was not quite right with Hermione. He hoped it wasn't too serious. "Well? What is it?"
Hermione sighed. It was now or never. "Well, I did some thinking today, and I came to a rather startling conclusion. I had to check myself about a million times before I was sure, but the signs are all there and it's basically undeniable." Hermione breathed deeply. She'd never said anything quite like what she was about to say before, and to say that she was terrified was an understatement. But she didn't think that she could go on much longer like this. It was driving her absolutely insane! So she'd decided to go for a very direct approach. She took another deep breath, released it, and said, matter-of-factly, "I'm in love with you, Remus."
For a moment, Remus was too awe-struck to say anything. Hermione? Was in love? With Him? If he hadn't been so shocked, he might have been sorely tempted to laugh. Hermione, a young, beautiful woman with practically everything going for her, was in love with a boring old man like him? For once in her life, he was convinced Hermione had no idea what she was talking about. It was ridiculous! But then…
He remembered how she'd clung to him that night about a month ago. Neither of them had gone to bed at all that night, Remus had just held her all night long and let her cry. The experience proved cathartic for Hermione, and after that night, she'd been much better. But she still stayed with Remus. He didn't mind… she was good company. Hermione was still the same girl she'd been before; witty, intelligent, and even funny in her own distinct way. Remus enjoyed spending time with her, and the house didn't seem so lonely with her there.
And then there was this month's full moon. Hermione had stayed by him, uttering encouraging words as he transformed. She knew how painful it was for him, even with the aid of the wolfsbane potion. Thanks to Severus, he now had the potion every month. The wolfsbane let him retain his own mind while in the form of the wolf. Hermione had talked and read to him until the sun came up. She didn't even flinch at the sight of him in his changed form, and she didn't treat him any differently when he was back to normal again. Even Sirius and James had been disgusted at the sight of him when they'd first seen him transform.
There were countless other occasions when Hermione had done amazing things for Remus. She was always surprising him with what an amazing human being she was. And now she was telling him she loved him. This was too much.
"You don't have to say anything," Hermione said slowly. "I understand this is the kind of information that takes a while to process. I can leave if you want some time to think about this… or if you just want me gone now. I had to wait until I was sure I wasn't dependant on you anymore. I needed to know that what I was feeling was actually love, not some sort of strange dependence. And I needed YOU to know that, too." She got up from the table. "I'm going now… you probably have enough to think about now without my being here to muddle things up." She smiled apologetically. "See you." Hermione turned to walk away, but Remus reached out and caught her tiny hand in his before she had the chance.
"Wait!" Hermione turned to face him. "You don't think you're getting away that easily, do you?" Remus gave her a small half-smile.
"Please, Remus…" All traces of humor had disappeared from Hermione's face. "I hate to run off like this, but I've just made the biggest confession of my life, and if I don't get out of here soon and find some place to sit down and clear my head, I may very well pass out."
Remus stood up. "All right… let's go outside, then." Hermione shook her head firmly.
"No. I need to be away from you while you think this through."
"But don't you want to hear what I think?" Remus caught her gaze and held it. "Just let me tell you a few things, all right? That's only fair, Hermione… You have to give me a chance to respond." Hermione sat down, her face still bearing that stricken look. Remus paused for a moment. He wanted to make sure he phrased everything delicately. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Hermione, whom he'd come to think of as a good friend in the past month.
"Listen… I know you think you're in love with me--"
"I am."
Remus sighed. "Hermione, I have very little doubt that you DO love me. But there's a difference between loving someone and being in love with them. I know how highly you think of me, and I'm afraid that you've confused respect and admiration for love. No, don't say anything, I'm not finished. I believe that you love me, and you may even think you're in love with me, but you're not. If you wait it out, you'll probably realize that you love me like, well, like a father-- after all, I AM old enough to be yours—and that a relationship between us just wouldn't work because of that." Remus leaned back in his chair, knowing that it had been completely necessary to lecture Hermione like that, but hating what it had undoubtedly done to her nonetheless. Remus looked at Hermione, ready for the pain he would see in her face. But what he saw there was not what he'd expected to see. Hermione was smiling. Not widely; it was just a ghost of a smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.
"I knew you'd say that," she said, eliciting a shocked expression. "Surprised? You shouldn't be… you KNOW I've always been good at predicting people's reactions. I figured you'd come up with that argument. But I'm not going to let it dissuade me." She leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "Remus, I have a perfectly good father already. And with him, Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley, I don't need any more father figures in my life. I'm perfectly aware that you're old enough to have fathered me, but it doesn't really cross my mind all that often. Since graduation I've thought of you as a peer. I've never once equated you with a father figure. So unless you think of me like a daughter, I see no problem there." She leaned back. A moment later, a thought seemed to strike her, and her easy expression turned tense quite quickly. "You don't think of me like a daughter… do you?"
Remus squeezed his eyes shut. "No… but Hermione, that's not the point."
"Well then, what IS the point?" She crossed her arms over her chest, awaiting his answer.
"The point is that I'm an old man, and you're a beautiful young woman. I have nothing to offer you, and you have everything to offer me. You're intelligent, sweet, talented and beautiful, and you could have anyone you want. Don't try and tie yourself down to someone like me. Go out! Meet people! Live your life, Hermione, and meet someone who can give you what you deserve. You don't want me, just trust me on that. I'm more than twice your age, with a modest income and little to show for my years."
"I don't care!" Hermione reached out and put her hand over his. "Remus, I don't care about any of that. I don't WANT to go and meet new people… I have all the friends I need. I AM living my life… but I don't want to live it if it doesn't involve you. I don't care about your age or your income or whether you've done anything to make yourself known. So what? I've had famous friends before, Remus, and trust me when I say I'd rather have NOTHING to show for my years than live in the spotlight." She smiled. "I already know what you are, what you have and don't have, and how you live. There are so many more good things about you than bad things. But even with the bad, I still love you. It doesn't matter to me. I don't know what else I can say to make you believe me."
Remus ran his free hand through his graying hair. "Hermione, stop this. You're being ridiculous. Even if all that made sense, you seem to be forgetting one thing. I'm a werewolf! By loving you, I'd be putting you in danger. I just can't do that."
"Please, Remus, don't make pointless arguments like that. I'm not stupid. I know you're a werewolf, and like I've already said, I don't care! I'm already living here; I'm already in danger. And besides, I'll always be in some kind of danger." She sighed. "I was the best friend of the late Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, for heaven's sake! If Voldemort was going to come after one last person, I'd be a fairly likely target, don't you think? I mean, considering the fact that I've helped Harry stop him at least half a dozen times or more."
"Don't talk like that!" Remus stood up angrily. "You're not a target… I would never let him get to you!"
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay…" He squeezed his eyes shut. "Look, I won't deny that I'm interested,
but Hermione, I just don't know…" Hermione got up and stood beside him, taking his hands in hers.
"I do. I know exactly how it is. You're scared. You're afraid that you'll screw up, or get hurt, or end up losing your heart completely. I know, Remus. You don't think I'm scared too?" She laughed nervously. "I'm terrified. But Remus, I love you. How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?"
He looked down at her, their eyes meeting like so many times before. But it was different now… so different. "Hermione…" she shook her head.
"Don't answer… I'll just keep saying it. For the rest of my life if I have to. And even if I don't have to." She held his gaze. "That is, if that's alright with you."
Remus paused, his eyes still locked on hers. "I… Yes, I suppose that would be…" He drifted off, opting instead to put his lips to better use. Hermione closed her eyes as their lips met, an immense sense of accomplishment mixing with the love and lust she'd already been feeling.
"So what does this mean?" she asked him as they broke apart.
"I don't know… I suppose it means I love you too."
Hermione shook her head. "You don't have to. Don't say it if it isn't true."
Remus caressed her cheek. "But I DO love you, Hermione… there was never any question about that. It's whether I'm IN love with you that I was questioning."
"And?"
He smiled sheepishly. "Maybe. Just a little. But it's growing exponentially."
Hermione placed her hand over his on her cheek and moved it away. "Then I think that I may just have to kiss you again."
"That would be quite alright.
Chapter 2: Death my Bride~*I'm as puzzled as a newborn child,
I'm as riddled as the tide.
Should I stand with the break lines
Or should I lay with death my bride?
Hear me sing 'swim to me, swim to me,
Let me enfold you
Here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you'*~
Three months later
Early June
"Remus! Mail!" Hermione stepped away from the window and towards the small, cozy living room that she'd shared with Remus for four months now. She leaned over the back of the couch and kissed him awkwardly, making them both laugh. "Take the mail, you," she said, hitting him in the chest with several envelopes before dropping them into his lap and walking around the couch to sit beside him. They simultaneously turned their envelopes over and spied the Hogwarts crest on the back. They looked up and met each other's eyes before opening the envelopes. After both of them had read their letters, they looked at each other again. There was a moment of silence before Remus said, "Well?" a slow grin spread over Hermione's face.
"Arithmancy. You?"
Remus rolled his eyes. "Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course. A little variety would be nice, but Albus seems to be stuck with a shortage of offers for that position once again."
Hermione patted his arm consolingly. "He just thinks highly of your teaching abilities in that particular field." She grinned again. "I can't even believe this… 21 and already a professor! Who would have thought?"
"Certainly not me!" Hermione slapped his arm playfully, at which Remus grinned back at her. "I would have thought you'd be there by 19 at the oldest." He kissed her forehead. "Now, 21 and dating your crusty old Defense teacher… I wouldn't have predicted that!"
"We're hardly dating, really," Hermione replied, twining her fingers with his. "But I actually would have predicted it."
"What!?"
Hermione snickered. "Don't be so shocked… You know I was always a rather precocious child. And I was completely enthralled with you in third year."
"You ARE joking, right?"
"Come now, you know I have absolutely no sense of humor. Seriously. I'd gotten over it by about halfway through my fourth year… well, I thought so, anyway." Remus frowned.
"Gods. You've been attracted to me for much longer than I have to you."
"Well, I should hope so," Hermione replied laughingly. "I was thirteen-year-old child. I would start worrying if you'd felt the same way I did." She leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder. "Anyway, none of that matters now."
Remus toyed with a strand of her hair and looked thoughtfully at the Hogwarts letter. "I wonder what strange rumors will circulate around the school about Professors Lupin and Granger." He chuckled to himself. "Can you imagine? I can't wait to catch them passing notes about us."
"As long as I don't catch any little third years whispering about you in the way that I would have at that age, it'll probably prove to be quite amusing." Remus made a face.
"Please, Hermione… I'm almost fifty. I doubt any thirteen year old in her right mind would be attracted to me."
"I would be."
"That's different… you're… well, you're YOU."
Hermione leaned away from him. "What's THAT supposed to mean, hmm?"
"You're depraved and disgusting." Remus grinned. "Just a couple of the reasons why I love you."
Hermione seemed to consider this before leaning forward and kissing him deeply. "That was a good answer. I think you're finally learning something, Professor Lupin."
"I don't think that was Arithmancy you were trying to teach me, Professor Granger." Hermione smiled devilishly.
"Are you suggesting that I change my lesson plan?"
"Or maybe your entire field."
"Perhaps I should move into the dungeons." Remus laughed, and then flinched. "What?"
He shuddered again. "Oh nothing really… you just gave me a rather unpleasant mental picture of Severus using the dungeons for the purpose you'd just suggested…"
"Remus!" Hermione hit his shoulder with a pillow from the couch. "That is DISGUSTING!" She collapsed against his chest in a fit of giggles. "Oh gods… can you imagine?" She did her best impression of Severus. "'You're doing it wrong! I have never seen such incompetence!'" Now Remus was laughing hysterically as well.
"What kind of noises would he make, do you think?" Remus grunted loudly, sending Hermione into another fit of giggles. After they had both calmed down, Remus looked at Hermione with a puzzled expression. "But who in their right mind would--"
"Don't ask." Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You don't want to know."
Remus regarded her curiously. "What do you mean? Do you know something I don't?" He was struck by a sudden, horrible thought. "You didn't…"
"NO! Gods, Remus… honestly!" Hermione made a face. "Would I do something like that?" She shook her head, disgusted. "No… he's too… too OLD."
"Hermione, he's my age."
"Yes, but he's so stodgy and… and crusty! You're wise without being old and grouchy. He's just old and grouchy."
"Severus is a very smart man." Remus didn't know why he was defending Severus.
"Oh, I know he's smart. Smart, not wise. Wise is being smart without offending everyone in the process. And you KNOW he offends every single person he meets." Hermione shook her head. "Besides, I don't think Snape would have been at all interested in me… something tells me he's not really playing for that team."
"WHAT?" Remus shook his head. "Oh no… I think I'd have found out by now if Severus… enjoyed the company of men." Hermione nodded secretively.
"Uh-huh." Remus regarded her suspiciously.
"You DO know something, don't you?" Hermione shrugged. "Come on, tell me…"
"Some other time." Hermione quickly changed the subject. "Does your letter say when we're supposed to report to Dumbledore?"
"No… I guess we just go whenever we can."
"We could go now," Hermione suggested, suddenly unable to wait to return to her old school. Remus shrugged.
"If you want… I don't have much to do around here." Hermione leaned over and kissed him before getting up off the couch.
"I'm going to go pack a bag quickly… I'm so excited! I always hoped I'd be asked to teach at Hogwarts!" Remus smiled at Hermione's enthusiasm. She'd make a wonderful teacher, he was sure of that. That is, if she didn't end up cramming the students full of so much information that they exploded. He watched her back as she disappeared through the doorway. He was determined to make this the best year of both of their lives.
*****
"How are we this morning?" Voldemort smiled wickedly at the prisoner. "Warm? Cozy?" The prisoner moaned weakly. "Good. I wouldn't want you to be--" A swift kick to the ribs "—Uncomfortable." The prisoner coughed violently, blood leaking from between his swollen lips. The broken man lay on his side on the cold, hard stone floor, his dried blood forming a red ring around him. He had been beaten and used until he seemed barely human, and yet his pained moans and cries could not be anything but. The Dark Lord, on the other hand, had never looked better. Over the years, he had reconstructed his body piece by piece until he'd returned to his original form. The tall, severely handsome man was charismatic and calm, yet no one who looked at him could possibly describe him as anything but evil. He was evil in its purest form, and with the power and energy he'd stolen from the prisoner, he was able to wreak his vengeance upon the world with alarming power. He was finally ready.
"It's really too bad you have to die in order for me to reach my full strength." Voldemort knelt down beside the broken man. "You would have made a splendid trophy. Just think… what better prize for the Dark Lord than to have you, of all people, at my side. If only you'd given me what I wanted willingly."
The prisoner struggled to form words. "My life…" he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. Voldemort shook his head.
"No, my boy… just your power. You could have shared. We would have been great… but it's too late now for that. You're almost gone anyway. Look at you… all that power, wasted for the wrong side. What good did it do you? None. You're still going to die." Voldemort grinned maliciously. "And yet… yes, I think I'll keep you around for just a little while longer."
The prisoner narrowed his eyes, which were already practically swollen shut. "They… they'll come for me… th-they won't give… give up…"
"Come for you?" The Dark Lord laughed loudly. "I doubt it! Why would they come for you if they think you're dead?" The prisoner heard the words ringing off the dungeon walls and felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. Voldemort was not lying. Somehow, some way, he'd made them all think he was gone. They would not come in search of him. His last shred of hope had finally disappeared. "The Granger girl was getting close, a little too close. The others were way off track, but she almost ruined everything. I couldn't have her destroying my plans again. So I found a clever way to 'kill' you. They'll never even give it another thought." The Dark Lord's grin spread across his entire face. He had crushed the boy. He had finally killed that last ray of sunlight.
"You could have had it all, you know," He said as he stood and walked over to the door. "But instead, you have nothing. Happy now?" He laughed deeply. "Goodnight, Harry. Pleasant dreams."