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She smelt like strawberries.
No.
She smelt like raspberries.
No.
She smelt like vanilla.
Or Caramel, or...or... Merlin, it kept on changing. She just smelt good.
Remus stood at the kitchen bench. Hermione was next to him. She was making a coffee perhaps, he couldn't really remember.
He jumped a little when he accidentally stabbed himself with the blunt knife in his hand.
Stupid toast.
So absorbed in the scent of the young girl beside him he had somehow been buttering his hand for the last few strokes without even noticing.
oOo
He smelt like coffee.
No.
He smelt like fresh cut grass.
No.
It was more like the woody scent of a forest.
She hid her small smile as she thought of how appropriate the smell was for a wolf.
No matter what the name of his smell was, it was definitely good.
She jumped a little as her cup overflowed; the hot water flowing onto her hand that held the handle.
"Ow," she said reflexively as she let go of the instruments and held her hand to her chest.
"Let me see," came the deep voice beside her.
She gave her hand willingly, watching his hands rather than his face as he examined the small red mark on her skin.
He had butter on his sleeve.
She watched almost dazedly as her hand was brought up and she felt rather than saw his lips brush against her tender skin.
It lasted only the smallest second, one moment of pure euphoria, before he had brought her hand down.
The burn was gone.
She looked at him in confusion as he smiled indulgently at her, "All better?" he asked.
She almost missed his free hand slipping the wand back into his pants' pocket.
"Smooth," she smiled, half-jokingly.
"Always am dear," he winked at her just as Tonks entered the room.
She appeared to be wearing one of Remus shirts, despite it being nearly eleven in the morning.
Remus looked just as displeased as Hermione secretly was.
"What?" The pink-haired witch asked as she walked over to pick an apple from the fruit bowl that sat on the counter.
"Where are your clothes Nymphadora?"
"Ew Remus, please don't call me that, and I can't find them. Kings' made a complete mess of my stuff. I can't find a thing!"
"Oh," Hermione interrupted as she thought of Kingsley. "Kingsley told me to tell you that he would be by later today to finish up."
"Kingsley now is it?" Tonks said jokingly to Hermione. "No more Mr Shacklebolt?"
Hermione blushed unconsciously, remembering those biceps... "He asked me..." she said weakly.
"Tonks don't harass her!" Remus defended the smaller witch reflexively.
She only laughed as she walked over to the kitchen bench, ignoring the chairs, and lifting herself to sit on the table top, crossing her legs, their length emphasized by their bareness.
"So... two weeks unsupervised all alone in a house with two randy boys? Whatever did you get up to little My?" Tonks wiggled her eye brows suggestively.
Hermione was absolutely scandalized. She imagined her mouth was hanging open like one of those clown busts you find at Muggle fairs.
Even worse she could see Remus looking on with mildly concealed interest.
She huffed, incredulous at being asked such a question. But before she could express her deepest displeasure she was cut off -
"Wouldn't you like to know," Ron yawned as he picked up on the conversation walking into the kitchen and straight to the fridge, pulling out the juice and pouring it directly into his mouth.
"Ronald!" Hermione screeched as her hand tightened around her wand.
"Ouch," Ron dropped the empty juice carton as his hands went round to clasp his pajama clad bottom where the sparks now shooting from Hermione's wand had hit him.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist Mione," Ron scowled as he rubbed his rubbed his abused behind. "You'd have to take them of to do that," he mumbled lower, but still loud enough to be heard.
"I think that's quite enough," Remus interrupted as Hermione looked ready to risk a trip to Azkaban just to curse the redhead.
Ron took his chance and left the room as fast as he could without looking scared of the girl, his hand covered bottom undermining this attempt.
"So I guess that's a 'No' to the ménage à trois," Tonks asked all too innocently.
"Yeah I'd say it was a no," Hermione replied as she stormed from the room, the need for coffee long forgotten.
oOo
The days meshed together. There was little in between them to tell one from the next, even the weather seemed a stagnant dull haze of coldness. Had summer passed already? Or did it even begin? Harry and Ron were no closer to finding any soul pieces, no matter how much they talked it over it always came back to - the locket, the cup, the snake and something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's with no idea of where to begin on either of them. Even the identity of R.A.B remained elusive as the days turned to months and their circling ideas would lead them back none the wiser.
Tonks turned out to not be around that much. Hermione could only be pleased to see a limit to the pink and purple visage. Her bandaged leg would ache unbearably every time she could see the newlyweds together, even if their hands would only be touching. She was thankful that Remus seemed adverse to public displays of affection for she was sure the mild ache that her wound issued by a touch between the pair would only increase with the intensity of their visible affection. She hated the swell of her heart as Tonks would be denied the feel of his lips when she would drape herself across his lap in the afternoon only to be pushed away by Remus. He would have never pushed her away.
Hermione shook the memories of his demanding embrace from her head, trying not to dwell on the impossible.
In contrast to Tonks' constant absence Remus seemed to never leave the Black Manor. Hermione at first was wary of such a constant feature that was sure to haunt her even worse than those boxes. However as the days melded they seem to fall into an easy routine. Harry and Ron would leave and come in odd intervals, refusing to sit still for too long, and so Hermione often found herself alone in the house with Remus her only companion.
Her early attempts at trying to avoid him proved very failing and so instead she accepted his silent company, the days often finding both reading in the library.
At first she had thought she had been doing it but as she was made conscious of it she observed him, at least, doing it also.
No matter where they were or what they were doing they always seemed to just...touch.
They would pick armchairs next to each others and she would lay her arm on the armrest closest to his. After a few minutes he would lay his on the matching side of his chair. Their skin would brush and like a magnet none could seem to pull away from the innocent hold of their bare skin.
Every opportunity for their fingertips to touch would be taken. Passing the milk at breakfast. A hand offered to help her out of her chair.
Her favorite by far was the way he would kiss her head before she left for bed.
It was so innocent, so almost fatherly. But she seemed to live for the next moment when his hand would brush hers.
The only thing that seemed to mark the days for Hermione was the growing swell of her abdomen.
If she was right, and she often was, she gathered that she was no about five months pregnant.
Her stomach was curved, it's small spherical build soft but firm. She hid it with her clothes. But every time she stepped out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror she wondered if today would be the day where it had just gotten too big; that there would be no clothes in her wardrobe that could hide her secret. But every time she would just rub the place where her baby rests and slip on a T-shirt that, already too big for her small frame, would slide graceful over her extra curve.
When some days she would overly worry she would pull on a large sweatshirt as an extra cover; but no one ever noticed anyway.
She wondered how long it would last and what she would do when she could hide it no longer.
She thought of going to Harry.
She knew she would only have to ask and her best friend would claim her and the child as his own...but she couldn't do it. Poor Harry had everyone asking him for something. He was expected to save the whole world! She couldn't bear to place something extra upon his shoulders. He had too much to carry already.
She sighed.
There was only one option really, even if she didn't want to admit it.
She would have to leave...eventually, she would have to go.
If she stayed they would work it out. If she stayed he would find out. If she stayed...she would ruin everything. She didn't want to ruin anyone else's life. Remus was married. He had moved on without her. She didn't blame him; she couldn't blame him, because she had been gone for twenty years. It didn't make it any easier though.
She would go back to her parents...
She started to cry, the tears falling thickly onto her pillow. She curled up into a ball, her fists clenched tightly in the sheets.
She had never felt so alone or scared.
An owl tapped impatiently at her window.
Light flooded her room from the open blinds and she realized she must have fallen asleep.
She got up groggily; the dried tears tracks felt sticky to her cheeks.
She opened the window to allow the bird in.
The regal owl swooped importantly through her room placing the day's newspaper on her bed before retreating back through the window and disappearing into the clouded sky.
Hermione barely paid attention to the owl's proceedings as she moved towards the bathroom to clean the remnants of tears from her face.
She moved around her room, preparing herself for another day, completely oblivious to the heading screaming from the newspaper thrown so carelessly by the owl onto her bed.
'SIRIUS BLACK RETURNS'