Chapter 133: October 1998
"The worst part of holding memories is not the pain; it's the loneliness of it."
-Lois Lowry
The cool water stung Remus' back as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. He'd slept terribly—worse than he had while sleeping on cave floors over the past few months. He couldn't shake the pain in his chest or the tightened coil of want that flooded him from laying his head on her pillow. It had overwhelmed him. Even when he'd come back here after the Battle of Hogwarts, he'd slept on the floor.
He didn't want to explain to Mika why he couldn't bear to lay in that bed. How his fingers ached for the soft skin he couldn't touch when he did. How his mind raced with images of her when he closed his eyes and breathed in the faint scent of her coconut hair product and jasmine vanilla soap. How her essence clung to the sheets and kept a chokehold on his subconscious mind.
He'd dreamt of her, as he often did, but this time it was different. It wasn't the resurfacing of important memories of their past. It wasn't the gentle cadence of her voice whispering things about potions to him. It wasn't her smile or her laugh.
It was the way she sounded when she was beneath him. The way her back arched as she pressed stiffened nipples to his chest. It was the feel of her slick heat wrapped around his cock as she cried out his name and cut crescent shapes into his shoulders with her nails. The sheen of sweat that glistened between her breasts as he held her hips and kissed her throat.
He hadn't had a dream like this of her before. He hadn't had a dream like this since he was a teenager. He didn't know if maybe he was just a prude sod, but he'd always assumed that sex dreams didn't happen to men in their late thirties.
But now, here he was, a man of thirty-eight years, taking a bloody cold shower to try and calm the carnal want that coursed through him. However, it was proving to be of no use. Because despite trying to rid himself of the painful erection he'd tucked into his waistband on his walk to the shower, he had still reached for Hermione's shampoo. He wanted to drown in it, to fill his every pore with the scent of her and roll around in it.
Fuck, he was pathetic.
As the suds slipped down the drain, he gave up on trying to tame himself. It'd been far too long since he'd been with anyone, not to mention he ran the risk of indecent erections in front of Mika now, and that simply wouldn't do. He could only imagine the things she'd say to him if she caught how he needed to adjust himself every time he got a whiff of Hermione off the blankets.
He adjusted the temperature of the water, sighing with a bit of relief as the warmth flooded over him. He felt the muscles that ran the expanse of his back loosen and dragged a hand down his abdomen, fingers brushing over the trail of hair that led down from his navel to his cock. He bit down on his bottom lip as his hand wrapped around his erection, silently cursing himself for being stupid enough to think a cold shower would help and he wouldn't need to bring his wand into the loo with him to place a silencing charm.
He gave a few languid strokes, letting his mind wander and think about the way Hermione's perfect mouth felt around him. How her tongue would lave up the underside of his cock, lips closing around the head. He could almost feel it as he pumped his fist, rubbing his thumb on the spot that her tongue always paid extra attention to. His breath became heavier as he continued stroking himself, his pace picking up.
He could see her now, on her back, knees falling apart in an invitation for him to fill the space between her thighs. The way her eyes lit up in anticipation, the gasping sigh she always made when he'd push into her, sheathing himself up to the hilt inside her beautiful cunt.
Remus thrust into his hand, a low, needy groan spilling past his lips. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he remembered how her tongue tasted, how her lips moved against the stubble on his jaw, and how her hips rolled to meet his every thrust. Her hair wild around her, her lips swollen, looking debauched and fucking gorgeous. His other hand pressed against the tile, holding him up as his knees weakened. This wasn't good enough, this would never be good enough, but it was the closest thing he had. And when his mind supplied the scream of his name falling from her sweet lips, he spilt into his hand with a breathy shout.
Remus blinked heavily, watching as the evidence of his fantasy swirled down the drain, praying that Mika hadn't heard him.
Remus exited the bathroom in a pair of too-short pyjama bottoms and an old Beatles tee that had holes in the armpits and near the hem. He was drying his hair on a small towel when he rounded the corner into the kitchen to see a smirking Mika at the table, a steaming mug before her.
"Good shower then?"
Remus felt all the blood in his body rush to his face, "I er—I'm—"
"If you think for one second I haven't wanked with you in the next room, you are sorely mistaken, Remus."
Although he knew she was trying to tell him it was okay, it somehow felt even less okay. "I'm sorry."
She waved him off and then motioned to the empty seat across from her, "I made you some tea. Hopefully, it's good, I'm shit at making it and who knows how old it actually is."
Remus tossed the towel over his shoulder and sat, sipping the tea down, gratefully. He tried not to make a face when it coated his tongue. It truly was terrible. He'd need to get down to the shop and replace it, that was for sure.
"It's fine," he lied. "Thank you."
"Had to do something to keep my mind busy. All I could hear was you in there tuggin' yourself and while you're fit for an old man, you aren't my type so it really wasn't a pleasant experience. You mind doin' somethin' with that wand of yours to make it quieter next time?"
Remus sighed in resignation, "There won't be a next time. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."
Mika's lips twitched, "Well from the sounds of it, you came over the bath. So that's something, I guess."
Remus groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. "Are you quite finished?"
"Not as great of a finish as you, but yeah, I think it's out of my system now."
Remus pulled the towel off his shoulder and balled it up, chucking it at her face. Mika laughed loudly, her shoulders shaking.
"Okay, okay, I'm done. I promise. But, really mate, it's okay. It's perfectly natural and it's honestly a little weird this hasn't been a conversation sooner. We're both adults here. We have needs. I get it. If you want to wank in your own house, I'm not going to stop you."
"You said you were done," Remus complained, "And you're right, this tea is terrible."
Mika laughed again and swatted at him from across the table. Remus felt the heat in his cheeks finally dissipate as they quietly sipped at their terrible tea and the sun made its way into the kitchen windows. He found himself staring outside, his eyes trailing over the incredibly overgrown garden. The large tree in the back now withering with leaves that were shifting from green to yellow and orange as autumn began making an appearance. He thought that if they were going to stay here a while, he ought to clean up the garden. Maybe tend to the flowers and cut the grass so it was as nice as it had once been.
Something about the domesticity of the thought made his chest ache with longing. He and Hermione had had such a beautiful thing here, for a while, at least. Between the panic and fighting, there were moments of calm he hadn't felt again. He realized now that how desperately the simple serenity of his quiet moments with Hermione had left him empty. He'd been in the thick of war for so long, that he'd forgotten how to relax.
He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. Soon, he would have a simple life again. In the grand scheme of things, four years wasn't that long. Lying in wait wasn't something he was keen on doing, but he could plan and Nikolai would be in contact soon with more information. Surely, he could do something to help the newly re-built Order. Mika had already taken a step to warn Harry and push him in the right direction, but he hoped there was something more they could do than sit on the sidelines while so many died around them.
A voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like James reminded him that "time didn't work that way". He knew it was true, he knew that he needed to tread carefully so he didn't disrupt the timeline and ruin everything. He needed to make sure things played out the way they were supposed to, in order to ensure Hermione came to him in the first place.
He ran a hand over his face and looked up to see Mika staring curiously at him, an eyebrow arched as her eyes flickered over him.
"Alright?"
"Yes."
"If you want to lie to me, I guess that's fine. But just know that I know that you're lying," Mika said, finishing off her tea in a final gulp. She got up from the table and moved past Remus, brushing a hand through his hair. "You don't have to do everythin' alone, you know?"
The ceramic of the mug clinked against the porcelain sink as she washed it out, placing it in the small rack to dry.
"We should go to the shops today to get some necessities since we have a place to keep them," Mika suggested. "I still have a few cards that should work."
Remus hummed in agreement, appreciating the distraction she was offering.
Remus' hands were coated in flour as he continued to knead the sticky dough. His shoulders burned from the effort in a way he hadn't felt in many years. He wondered why he'd ever stopped baking. It was a tedious chore he'd always enjoyed, from the time his mum taught when he was a young boy. It never failed to be a nearly meditative experience, allowing him to quiet his ever-screaming mind and allow his thoughts to wander.
He rolled the dough out and slathered a large amount of cinnamon butter on it, sprinkling currants over the top of the cinnamon before rolling it together to form a log. He felt his eyes prickle as he cut the pinwheels with a bench knife.
"You know, I'm going to gain three stone if you keep this up," Hermione said, smiling as Remus sat a Chelsea Bun in front of her. She reached out and took a bite, sucking the sticky sweet from her thumb.
"You could gain fifty and I wouldn't care," he promised.
"They'd replace the portrait of the Fat Lady with a portrait of me instead," she chuckled.
"Then I'd always know where to find you."
She suppressed a smile and rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her chocolate espresso.
"You know, I never ate sweets when I was younger. My parents were dentists so they didn't love the idea of having a daughter with a mouth full of cavities. Can't say I blame them."
"And look at you now, eating them as often as possible," Remus teased.
"Only when you make them. I don't think I much like anyone else's."
Remus smiled sheepishly at that, feeling his cheeks redden under the sincerity of her voice. He swallowed a mouthful of espresso and took a large bite of his own. "I've been eating them my entire life and haven't gotten a cavity."
"Lucky you."
"I think it's the advantage of having a magical parent. We didn't use muggle toothpaste. My dad always got a teeth cleaning potion from the apothecary."
"Have you ever thought about the good we could do if there was no Statute of Secrecy?" Hermione asked, "How many things we have that could help muggles…"
Remus shook his head, "It doesn't work the same, though. You know that. There are plenty of potions my mum can't take because her body can't handle them. There's a reason we live so much longer, after all."
"I suppose that's true."
Remus swallowed thickly, his appetite abandoning him completely. He knew this wouldn't last forever, he knew she had to go back to her own time. But, the thought of not being here, at this table, when they were old and grey made his stomach twist uncomfortably. The unfairness that they should both live so long and have to do it apart was stifling. He already missed her and she was sitting three feet away from him. He couldn't imagine what he would do when she left—when her time had run out and she had to go back.
"Remus?" her soft voice was filled with concern and he tried to muster up a smile.
"Hermione."
She toyed with her bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth as her eyes scanned his face, her brows pinched together slightly, forming a crease between them.
"Are you alright?"
He cleared his throat and nodded, "I'm fine."
"No one in the history of the universe that has answered that question with 'fine' has ever meant it."
He forced a smile and leaned across the table, pressing a hand to the side of her neck, dipping his head low to catch her lips. "I promise, I'm alright. I love you, is all."
She let out a breathy, little sigh and pressed her lips against his again. "I love you, too."
"Smells amazin' in here," Mika's voice broke through the memory that had swept Remus away to a different time.
"Should be done any minute," he said, crouching low to check the buns through the small window in the oven.
On cue, the muggle timer buzzed on the counter top and Remus opened the oven, using a towel to protect his hands as he pulled the tray of perfect Chelsea Buns from the heat. There was a satisfied pride that burned through him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd baked anything, but it had seemed like the thing to do this morning. With his mind wandering back to Hermione and the way she sighed with happiness with the smell of cinnamon wafted through the small house.
"You made these?" Mika asked, looking sceptically at the pan.
"Well, they didn't bake themselves."
"But, from scratch? You didn't buy the pre-made ones from the shop and just warm them up?"
Remus pulled a face of disgust and shook his head, "Absolutely not."
"You mean to tell me we've been scavenging out of bins and eating shitty takeaways for months and you can cook?"
"Ah," Remus said, holding up an index finger. "That's where you're wrong. I can't actually cook. I mean, I guess I could probably throw something edible together but—no. I bake."
Mika deadpanned, clearly annoyed with Remus. Which, he had to admit, he was kind of enjoying. Just a bit.
"Is there a difference?"
"Baking is a science, cooking is an art," he rattled off the words he'd heard fall past his mum's lips thousands of times as a kid. "And, I've never been much of an artist."
Mika shook her head and crossed the kitchen, reaching out to take one from the pan. Remus swatted at her hand and she let out an indignant huff.
"Oi! What was that for?"
"They need to cool a bit first. They're too hot right now. If you eat them now, you won't get the full effect."
"I'm about to show the full effect of my fist to your groin here in a minute," Mika grumbled, walking back toward the table and falling gracelessly into a chair.
Remus rolled his eyes and snatched up his wand. He didn't love using cooling charms to speed the process up—there was something to be said about waiting to take the first bite of a warm pastry. But, he supposed they really had spent a lot of time eating terrible food recently and they could both do with something homemade. He pulled two small plates from the cabinet and placed a magically cooled bun on each before pouring espresso from the coffee press on the hob into two mugs—over a square of chocolate, of course.
He handed a plate and mug to Mika before sitting across from her with his own.
"What's this, then?" Mika asked, taking a long sniff of the contents of the mug. "Coffee? I didn't think you drank coffee."
"I don't, usually. But this is chocolate espresso," he said, taking a sip.
Even though the espresso was hot enough to scald the inside of his mouth, his chest ached with the familiarity of the drink. The way the chocolate offset the bitterness of the espresso. How there was just a dash of cream to help the liquid feel like velvet in his mouth. And how the taste of Hermione's favourite drink sat on his tongue and reminded him so vividly of her espresso-scented kisses and the way she smiled against his lips, whispering blasus into his mouth.
"This is bloody delicious," Mika sighed, "all of it, really."
Remus' eyes prickled and he forced a tight smile, "They're Hermione's favourites. I think I just wanted to…I don't know—"
"Be close to her for a minute?"
His throat constricted and he gave a stiff nod. Mika knew him better than he could ever give her credit for.
"She was lucky to have you. Is. She is lucky to have you. You know that, don't you?" Mika's words came softly, her eyes full of understanding and sympathy.
Remus' mouth twisted down as he toyed with the inside of his cheek. "I'm still not sure she'll want me like this."
"Like what?"
Remus waved a hand over the length of his body. "Damaged goods? Old and decrepit?"
Mika laughed, "Damaged goods, maybe. We all are, aren't we? Old and decrepit? Remus, please, mate. You may be eighty-seven—"
Remus snorted and shook his head.
"—but your fit. If I liked blokes, I'd probably have tried to get my own in on you by now. But most importantly, you are disgustingly in love with her. She'd be a fool not to see that and if I've learned anything about your Hermione in our time together it's that she is definitely not a fool."
Remus closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, feeling his emotions well up. "I'm tired."
"Why don't you go kip on the sofa for a bit and then we can start going through some of those books when you wake up?" Mika suggested.
Remus nodded, pushing up from the table and shoving his mug and plate toward her. "Don't let it go to waste."
"I would never waste fresh food, Remus. You ought to know me better than that by now."
Remus offered a twitch of his lips and moved into the living room, wrapping himself up in the afghan on the back of the couch and inhaling the clinging scent of Hermione as he let himself drift off to the sound of Mika humming at the table.
.
.
a/n: I know this one was just a lot of fluffy filler, but I thought Remus deserved some time, you know? Anyway, I hope you liked it as much as I did!
xoxo
