Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter it is all the Property of JKR I just take it out to play once in awhile.
Candle in the Window
His breath comes in pants as he lopes up the hill toward the house and home. It has certainly been a long two months and he aches to be back in the arms of his family.
"I'll be your candle in the window
My love for you will always burn
I know you're lost and drifting
But the clouds are lifting
Don't give up you'll have somewhere to turn" Hermione sings softly to herself as she puts the candles up for Candlemas. A pair of strong arms surrounds her waist and she leans back into the familiar embrace.
"You know I'm pretty sure that is not how that particular muggle song goes." Sirius teases.
"I know." She replies sighing softly. "It's all I can think about though, he's been gone too long, and I miss him."
"I miss him too Mione, But he'll be home soon. We just received the Owl this morning." She turns in his arms and wraps her own around him as he softly sings the next verse into her ear.
"I'll be your candle in the window
'Till ev'ry wave is warm and bright
Our souls are there beside you
Let this candle guide you
Soon you'll see a golden stream of light"
He resents every moment that takes him from them, he has loved Sirius Black since they were kids together in Hogwarts, and for over three quarters of his life he has been in love with the brash gray-eyed wizard. Then there was her, their loving wife, his help meet, his joy and pride. That she had chose to love two such grizzled and broken men as the two of them never failed to amaze Remus. She is not only the brightest witch of her age, she is also the kindest and most giving individual he has ever met. Her smile warms him more than any fire is capable of doing. Her love keeps them both from falling back into darkness, just like the candles in the windows this St Bridget's Eve, light the way for the blessings of the goddess. She is their goddess, their Bridget.
She pulls away and heads into the kitchen, dinner is ready and the places are set. There is always a place set for him, even when they know he's not going to be home. Just like there is always a place in their hearts for him to come home to. Dinner is on the table now, and all they have to do is wait. He opens the door and enters into the warmth and light of their small cottage. He can hear their voices in the kitchen and he is drawn to them like a weary moth to a flame. He drops his pack on the floor, strides into the kitchen and into their arms; finally he is home.