Tie Your Heart at Night to Mine, Love
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
"What is she doing here?"
Remus raised his head, following Hermione's gaze. As off-standish as possible, Dolores Umbridge stood under an archway not very far from the Weasley's, dressed in a dark grey tweed set with matching shoes and hat. A black veil dangled from the brim, partially covering her face as she dabbed nonexistent tears from her eyes.
There were no words for the anger that surged from within as the despicable, toad-like witch sniffed rather loudly, disturbing the families close to her. Anger that was equally mirrored in Hermione, for Remus had never seen her move with such speed as she advanced towards Umbridge. He followed but made no move to restrain her.
Hermione's hands were balled into fists at her sides, her legs and torso stiffened as if they were being forced to stay put, but only barely. "You…vile, lecherous woman."
Umbridge lifted her index finger.
"Hem-hem. Manners, Miss Granger! Although I can hardly blame you, with the company you keep…" the former undersecretary looked down on Remus, wrinkling her little nose, "A stray beast Dumbledore picked up and treated as a pet."
Hermione reached for her wand then, but Remus pinned her wrist down with just enough pressure to prevent her from casting a spell. "Hermione, she's not worth it."
Remus scanned the crowd – the commotion had started to draw attention, and it wouldn't be long before Hermione's friends and Order members reached them.
Harry was the first to arrive. "Why are you here?"
Umbridge upped her theatricals a notch, placing a hand over her chest as her mouth gaped open.
"Why? I am here to pay my respects to my dear great-uncle Wardell, whom I tragically lost during the first war. Miss Granger, on the other hand…" she set her large, bulging eyes back on Hermione, her tone a little condescending, "My dear, if you don't mind me asking, who are you mourning? Your family, I believe, escaped the war unscathed. Haven't they?"
Hermione's wrist trembled under his hand.
Had that been a threat? Was that small, insignificant creature threatening his mate?
Their party increased just as the wolf riled up inside him. The cavalry had arrived at last - at his side stood Tonks, her hair changing violently from puke green to angry red and back. Minerva had her hand on Hermione's shoulder, her cold expression set on Umbridge. "Dolores."
"Minerva, what a pleasure!" said Umbridge, her girlish high-pitched voice did nothing for the wolf's urge to bite whatever little neck she had and rip her head off.
Kingsley and Arthur were there as well, the latter addressed him in a quiet voice, "Remus, get Hermione out of here. We'll deal with this."
A second later, they were both standing in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.
Hermione lost her footing from the unexpected apparition, but Professor–Remus steadied her. Her gaze was set on the wooden table before her, but her sight had given way to a string of thoughts, images, and memories mashed together with all sorts of connections. Her family. The War. Death Eaters. Umbridge.
A noise brought her back – Remus had flopped onto the kitchen bench, his head down, eyes closed as he controlled his breathing. She wished she could do the same. She also knew that stirring into motion would disturb him, yet she couldn't help herself. Pacing felt like doing something – it had sequence, pattern, all that her mind lacked at the time.
She was a few strides in when the conclusion hit her.
"She would have me branded just the same."
She had back to Remus and nearly jumped when he spoke. "Hermione? What are you talking about?"
Years of never leaving a question unanswered kept her talking, yet a part of her mind knew the words were no more than ramblings to anyone but herself, "She sure looks prim and proper, but she's just as mad and vicious. That's a façade, she's not a victim, she…she had no right to be there, no more than Bellatrix herself." Hermione sat on the bench, her hand gripping her arm, and swallowed. Her voice was no more than a whisper when she added, "She would brand you, too."
It wasn't until he spoke that she realized her mistake.
"Brand?" Remus questioned. Hermione's breath caught in her lungs, her chest heavy and cold. She glanced at the door and unconsciously smoothed the sleeve now wrinkled from her grasp. The wizard must've picked up on her body language as he placed himself in front of her, preventing her escape. The get up and run kind at least. "Hermione, show me your arm."
His tone was neither harsh nor gentle – if she were to define it, her word of choice would be commanding. Part of her wanted to rebel at it, to forcibly protect the secret she had been keeping for the past month or so. Yet she found herself desperate to tell him, to share her burden with someone who understood the impact of skin-carved scars had inside. Not that Harry didn't, but his never lessened him in any way. Hers, much like Lupin's, marked her as something else, something different and inferior, and despite her knowing it not to be true, the violence of it was too great.
She rolled up her sleeve, not daring to face him until the complete word became visible. When she did look up, her eyes challenged him to cringe, to feel repulsed by it, but he didn't return her gaze. Instead, he kneeled in front of her and took her reached out wrist into his hand. His fingers were lighter than a feather as they slid over her marred skin, sending a chill up her arm.
When looked at her at last, her defenses crumbled. His eyes had a vivid rim of gold that splintered into the forest green with such strength she caught herself fearing the wave of yellow would take over permanently. Yet there was beauty in it. A balance their owner himself had not managed to achieve. She swore she could see the wolf inside, a feeling that her rationality wouldn't be able to shake.
From that moment on, he was Remus to her. Because she couldn't fathom such an overwhelming desire to kiss a teacher.
And she would have – they would have – if Harry hadn't picked that exact moment to burst into the kitchen, looking for her.
This time, she hadn't been the one to flee. Remus disappeared in a blink, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder whether she was the only one keeping secrets.
A/N: Another chapter up! I hope you all liked it and don't wish to kill me (save your murderous feelings for Harry)
Fizzing Whizzbees to…
My reviewers: laisvega, rosesnblueberries, Liz (guest), Argella Storm, IrishIris, LJ Summers, moreremusplease, and Collectorofkeys.
To laisvega, gingasawus, rstern1990, NutsaboutHarrypotter, Aleera Frostbyte Lestrange, genoue, and Collectorofkeys for adding the story to their favorites.
And to Jazziet, IceprincessIsis3, LollieAllie, deemura, Miss. Silver Star, gingasawus, rstern1990, Parker sparkle, jointheclub, moreremusplease, Collectorofkeys, and The Doctor's Melody for following the story.
To Liz (guest): I'm so glad you liked it! Especially the fireworks – the idea struck me and who better than George to pull that off? I hope you keep enjoying it and thank you so much for reviewing! :)
Thank you all! Please review :)