Two weeks have passed since I first intruded upon Remus' quiet life at Grimmauld Place. Much of my time was spent in his company, either studying or talking companionably. He was a kindred spirit, Remus, and I was glad that I had him to rely on in any of my hours of need. And he seemed to feel the same towards me. While I confided in him of my mother's sudden breakdown and how it was affecting me and my split lives, he entrusted me with his own secrets. How he really did fancy Tonks, though he was scared for her, and how he adored all of the interesting and far from natural colors she managed to think into her hair.
Also, during those couple weeks, I managed to send letters off to both Harry and Ron, telling them not to worry about me and that I would see them when school began for the new term, only a few days away. And also, I sent a letter to my mum.
I waited for what seemed eternities for her to reply, hoping and fearing that she would. Then, one morning, as I looked up from my cereal that I was snacking on one early afternoon, I saw Flora waiting patiently outside the window. Sighing deeply, I stood and let her in, careful not to just rip the letter from the poor bird's leg.
With an emotion akin to absolute terror, I unrolled the parchment and prepared myself for the worst. I was not disappointed.
Hermione,
We're simply too different to be a family. I think it is in both of our best interests that we no longer communicate. I fear you and all of your unnatural powers. I think I can be happy by myself.
I dropped the letter from my suddenly numb fingers. Tears I hadn't realized were sitting in my eyes fell to my cheeks and a shocked despairing sound managed to escape my throat before I could stop it. I quickly covered my mouth with my hands and bit my tongue in an effort to remain calm. But it was too late for that.
Remus was in the room momentarily, his wand at the ready. When he saw me alone and the piece of parchment on the floor at my feet, he understood that it was not some Death Eater come to kidnap me and he put his wand back within his inner cloak pocket. He stepped forward and, with only a moment of hesitation, wrapped me in his arms.
"What happened?" he asked, after my tears had slowed. I nearly began sobbing again as I pointed to the letter on the floor. Hesitantly, he let go of me and reached for the parchment. I watched as his eyes scanned the writing and as his eyes grew narrower. He crumpled the parchment angrily and threw it into the cold fireplace.
"Your mother is a spiteful wench," he muttered. I started crying again, knowing he was right but wishing that he was wrong. He sighed and rubbed his square hand over his weary face. He turned and stared at me. "I know what you're going through," he whispered.
I stood abruptly, anger erupting from someplace far within me. "How could you? How could you possibly know what it's like for your mother to hate you? To fear you?"
He stared me down and laughed bitterly. "Have you forgotten that I'm a werewolf, Hermione?" I blushed as he continued. "My mother has hated and feared me since I was a child, blaming me just as your mother blames you." He sat heavily in the chair beside him. "Did I ever tell you how I was bit, Hermione?" I shook my head. "I was with my father. I was small, just a child, and we were talking a walk in the woods around my house. And Fenrir Grayback, as you may remember, was a little less than fond of my father. He was waiting for us, ready for our step to take us past him, glad that his opportunity had come on a full moon. He attacked, mortally wounding my father and cursing me. He died soon after. And my mother never recovered from the shock." He sighed and looked even more exhausted than I could ever remember seeing him before.
"What happened...after that?" I asked, not wanting to pry but too curious not to.
"She was like your mother, too in love with her husband to do anything but whatever he wanted. She was ambitious and had dreams, but she met Dad and was willing to give all of it up for him and she did. Then, only a scant few years later, here she's left a widow with a werewolf son. She hated me and I found no relief from her and her demands until I met Sirius, James and Peter. Then I could finally be happy, to some extent." He let out a sigh which eventually turned into a laugh. "And people wonder why I have a hard time with relationships." I smiled shakily.
There was a long silence in the room that only ended when Remus stood and set his hand on my shoulder. "Hermione, give up on her. Just for now. She doesn't want you and she's not worth your pain. Can you promise me that? Can you promise to forget about her, just for a little while?"
I looked up at him, uncertain whether I could make that promise. But when I saw the determination and caring in his eyes, I knew I had my answer. "All right, Remus. I promise."
He smiled softly and left the room.
After he shut the door, I didn't move for a moment. It was a hard predicament, an uncertain ending to the relationship with the woman I had thought loved me. It was too abrupt. My eyes drifted to the fireplace, where the crumpled letter from my mother, possibly the last, still sat on the ashes of yesterday's fire. For a moment, I felt the urge to set it alight immediately, but then my resolve crumpled. Instead, I reached into the ashes and pulled the parchment to me, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles.
I held the letter close to my chest and moved to one of the chairs. I sat down and let out a sigh. So I wasn't exactly keeping my promise to Remus, so what? I folded the letter and put it into my pocket. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.
