The Night Will Go As Follows
theDarkIsRising
7. WASHED MY HANDS OF THAT
Remus awoke at 1:05 AM; his mouth was dry and his head ached. Blearily, he looked at the Muggle alarm again, confused by the time. He was also confused as to how he got where he was at the moment. Currently, he was curled in Hermione's bed with Hermione still in it. He rolled over to face her. She breathed softly and her hand lay on the pillow next to his face. Briefly, he wondered if her hand had been touching him. Remus carefully traced down her index finger, trying to recall yesterday.
He remembered leading a barely coherent Hermione to her bedroom. She'd nearly fallen over backwards after kissing his cheek; she no longer possessed the coordination to raise herself back up. So, Remus lifted her up. Much like at the Ministry, he tucked her underneath his arm and supported her weight. He managed to guide her to bed and into a proper sleeping position, which was difficult as she initially refused to let him cover her with a blanket. After that, it went a little dim. A hand on his wrist, her pulling him down, her rolling over to allow him some room on the mattress, her satisfied sigh as he laid down next to her.
Last night. He didn't know how much she would remember of it. If she would recall leaning into him, whispering into his ear, kissing him (albeit on the cheek). Absentmindedly, he touched his face. Maybe she would forget. Maybe that was for the best. She hadn't been herself. Remus reached up and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. Hermione burrowed deeper into her pillow. Maybe she would be shocked to find him lying next to her. She'd been quite drunk. What were you thinking, he mentally asked her.
Fearing the answer to his unasked question, he shifted out of bed. It would probably be for the best if he left. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Her eyes, so hazy, had been unreadable – "you were always worth." What about him was worth saving? She touched him as if reaching for a drowned man. He'd stayed afloat all these years and for what. To yoke another person to his utter misfortune. To cause Hermione Granger to lose her high profile Ministry job and come home with Firewhiskey. To make her worry about him. To have someone touch him in such a way and have no idea how to respond.
Remus stood in the doorway, looking at her still form. He could easily climb back into that bed and wait for her to wake up. And then ask her. What did you mean? Last night. What are we doing?
Instead, he lay back down on the sofa and left those questions for the morning.
oOo
Neither of them brought it up. Hermione blushed slightly upon seeing him again, but she didn't breathe a word as to why. Remus waited for her to say something, anything; however, Hermione kept silent. So, they set about to what they did best – reading, studying, planning. Remus was tasked with actually looking at the want ads in the Daily Prophet. In a huff, Hermione pulled book after book from about her bookshelves. All of them dealt with Wizarding law. When Remus asked what she was doing, she explained she was researching termination rules within the Ministry.
"I highly doubt," she said, "they have any precedent to lay me off or phase me out simply because of marital status." Remus started to argue, but she quirked an eyebrow at him. "No matter whom I decide to marry."
Over the next few days, Hermione religiously poured over those books, taking notes and audibly sighing at points. Remus watched her finish the work from her work bag and send it back to the Ministry. Someone else will just do it wrong, she explained. Remus shifted through the magical and Muggle job postings. He found a few promising ones for some local Muggle shops.
"You know a magical job would be better," said Hermione.
"I doubt any of these would hire me."
"Have you asked? Have you owled them?"
"I'm fairly certain," he glanced down at the paper, "that Gringotts doesn't want a werewolf on staff."
"Have you asked McGonagall about coming in during the spring term?"
He smirked at her a bit. "Why should I when you've already done it?"
She colored a bit. "You shouldn't read other people's owls."
Remus noticed her hair getting more and more unmanageable as the days wore on. Lacking structure, Hermione seemed to be going a bit mad. And nothing in her books ever made her happy. She mostly sighed and muttered. She lamented often, aloud and more so to herself, that she needed the Hogwarts library to figure out her problem. Remus noticed that she licked her lips and bit at them as she wrote down something important. She'd pop the quill between her teeth when flicking quickly through pages. She got up occasionally to walk about or look over his shoulder or ask what he was reading or accept a bit of food from him that he'd managed to find in her icebox. He thought he felt the ghost of her fingertips touch along his shoulders as she surveyed which want ads he'd circled. She retreated to her bedroom alone each night, leaving him on the couch.
They moved around each other like small planets, never terribly close, but still within a set orbit. Occasionally, Remus popped out to his flat for his things: a shirt, a razor, shoes. He tried to bring up the subject of moving back there, at least until everything between them was squared away, but as usual, Hermione shut down that idea. He somewhat agreed, although he'd never tell her that. His flat was cold now and dark; it felt different. Remus could not image sitting at his kitchen counter alone any more. Despite such feelings, Hermione's flat was still small. To give her some space and to separate himself from the angry scratching of her quill, he wandered the nearby streets of London, looking for any 'help wanted' signs.
Much to Hermione's chagrin, he got part-time work in the butcher's department at a grocery store. He told her that he'd done much worse and besides with her unwavering faith in McGonagall, it would surely be temporary. Hermione immediately sent in proof of his employment to the Ministry. He'd only been employed a couple of evenings, and Hermione enjoyed being alone in the apartment, but she did miss hearing him shift in his chair as he read or seeing him emerge from the kitchen with his glasses perched on his nose. She didn't realize how quiet her apartment was.
It was nearly time for him to leave again when their relative quiet was broken by an influx of unknown owls that tried to swoop into the window and instead pecked mercilessly until let inside. Each carried a flaming red envelope.
"Oh, Merlin," muttered Hermione. She reflexively took a step back from the Howlers that were accumulating in her living room.
Looking livid, Remus tried to banish the lot of them before they ripped open and began to shriek. Hermione followed suit, waving her wand uselessly at them. Before long, they unsealed and unleashed a myriad of high-pitched yelling.
"HERMIONE GRANGER DESERVES BETTER…"
"YOU ARE DIRTY AND NEED TO BE…"
"HOW DARE YOU? HARRY POTTER LOVES…"
"WEREWOLVES SHOULD BE LOCKED AWAY…"
"YOU ARE AN OLD CODGER WHO PROBABLY CAN'T EVEN…"
"HOW WERE YOU EVER A TEACHER? SHE'S ONLY…"
They both covered their ears and waited for them to burst into flames. Once the ash had settled, silence pressed in on them. Remus banished the dusty piles until the living room looked untouched.
"I wish I knew who sent each and every one of those," said Hermione through clenched teeth.
"Ah," said Remus, distantly, "the beauty of Howlers. You don't have to sign your name."
"Still, that is the most vile and cowardly way to send anything." Hermione stomped over to the window and slammed it shut.
"Who sent the first letter?" He wasn't looking at her, but his voice was tense.
"Which letter? I don't know. It disintegrated," Hermione said.
"No, the first day after the ceremony. The day when you let were let go. You got some post and didn't talk about it."
"I don't know what you mean."
Remus closed the space between them. Hermione lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "Yes, you do. Now where is it?"
"I don't think you need to see it." He began riffling through the papers on the coffee table and then through the desk drawers. He pulled them open violently and left them hanging like gaping mouths. Hermione righted things in his wake. "Please, Remus, really it won't help anything."
He took a deep breath and stopped his frantic movements. "Just show me. I want to know."
"Fine," she conceded. "No one signed this one either."
Hermione reached underneath the couch cushion and pulled out the card, slightly bent from being sat on. Reluctantly, she handed it over and then sat down, facing away from Remus. She didn't feel like reliving that particular moment. The front innocuously read "Congrats" and, upon opening the card, a voice said the same ("Congratulations!") in a horrible Cockney accent.
But the inside – Remus instantly shut it. The sender or someone had taken the time to draw a lewd picture. A woman was bent over in a state of enrapture and behind her a man shifted between human and wolf form, his mouth open in a continuous howl. Remus dispatched this card in the same manner as a Howler, lighting it aflame until there was nothing left.
"Well, I asked for it," he said softly. His face was strangely calm, which left Hermione feeling more uneasy than when he was outright angry. "It's nearly five. I'd better be off for the late shift."
"Remus," started Hermione. He looked at her a moment, his white apron in his hand. "All of these people are completely stupid. It will get better."
"Forever the optimist. I've been at this far longer than you have. I know my place." He held up his pink-stained apron as proof and then left.
AN: A bit of a short update, but that felt like the right place to end it. We are revving up for some more exciting things to come. I hope this hasn't been going too terribly slow. Thanks for all the favs and follows. Please review. Let me know Remione is still a ship people care about! (Been feeling very alone in the HG/RL boat as of late).