Culmination
Mar. 12th, 2007 05:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tattooedsirenTitle: Culmination
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Remus/Hermione
Word Count: 4929
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own. Inspired in part by Fortune's Rocks by Anita Shreve.
Summary: His hand slides down a bit, his fingers on her neck as they stare into each others eyes. The tension in the air between them is undeniable and yet neither acknowledges it. Hermione’s breathing is shallow and he can feel the beat of her heart in the blood rushing through her veins beneath his fingers. Hermione slowly lifts her hand, placing it over his, her fingers sliding between his...
Authors notes: I hate summaries - I can never think of what to write. :O) Ths fic can be read as an unofficial sequel to Prelude. Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
wizard_love exchange. Enjoy everyone!
50_smutlets prompt: On Camera
Culmination
Hermione shuffles from foot to foot. Taking a deep breath, she puts her hand to the doorknob and turns, entering the house.
Harry and Ron come bounding into the foyer before she has time to close the door behind her. The boys grin at her, rushing forward and enveloping her in an enthusiastic hug. She grins, dropping her bags and hugging them back.
They release her and take her bags. She trails behind them, stopping abruptly when Remus emerges, casually walking down the stairs.
“Hermione,” he says pleasantly, smiling at her.
She smiles back, watching as he slowly descends the stairs while Harry and Ron walk up them. He takes the few extra steps to her, leaning across and kissing her cheek. “How have you been?”
“Fine thankyou. You?”
“Good. Congratulations. I hear you received the best N.E.W.T. results Hogwarts has seen for a few years.”
Hermione smiles shyly, looking to the ground. “Thankyou, Remus.”
“Not that I was surprised, of course.” He smiles at her, genuine and warm, and she smiles back.
“Hermione?” comes the voice of Ron from upstairs.
“Coming,” she yells back, rolling her eyes, making Remus laugh. She smiles at him then moves around him, her arm brushing his in the process. She walks upstairs on unsteady feet, unaware that she does not go unwatched.
*
Hermione smiles to herself as she leans on the doorway, watching Remus as he works away at something. He hasn’t noticed her yet and she delights in this rare opportunity to observe him without his knowledge. He is fiddling with an old muggle camera, cleaning it out. She is mesmerized by his hands as they move over the object; they are large and graceful and probably the most beautiful hands she has ever seen.
She laughs to herself at the silliness of internally waxing poetic about his hands and he turns at the sound. He smiles in greeting, says, “Hello, Hermione,” before going back to what he was doing.
Hermione meanders into the room and stands by the desk. It is covered with tools and rags and cleaning materials. “What’s all this then?” she asks.
Remus glances up. “Molly discovered some of my old photos and wants me to take some pictures for her. I thought about saying no but she is so stubborn she probably would have won out in the end anyway. But I haven’t used this stuff in years so it needs to be cleaned first.”
Hermione suddenly notices a nearby photo album. It’s quite large, covered with a black jacquard. “May I?” she asks, nodding to the album.
“Of course,” he says, surprised, as if she should know that she needn’t ask.
She picks up the book and sits down opposite him. They smile briefly at each other before they each go to their own tasks; Remus and his camera and Hermione and the album.
She opens the book and slowly flicks through the pages. She isn’t surprised that Molly has asked Remus to take some photos for her. Looking at these pictures, its clear that Remus is a gifted photographer. Even though Hermione recognizes virtually no one from these photos of Remus’ youth, the obvious exceptions being pictures of Sirius, Pettigrew and Harry’s parents, each photo makes her feel something. Even the pictures of inanimate objects are beautiful in their own way.
“Remus,” she says, making him look up to her. “These are really beautiful.”
He smiles shyly in return, as though he isn’t used to hearing such praise. “Thank you,” he replies, genuinely flattered that she likes them so much.
They look at each other for a moment, the world outside their gaze ceasing to exist for a moment. Remus breaks the stalemate, quickly blurting out, “Can I take your picture, Hermione?”
She simply smiles in reply.
*
Hermione watches on in amusement as Remus tries to marshal the unruly group of young adults. Fred and George are being their usual mischievous selves, Harry and Ron look bored with the whole proceeding and Ginny and Luna look like they are in a whole nother world completely.
She catches his eyes amongst the chaos and smiles encouragingly at him. He grins in return, dropping a subtle wink before turning back to the twins and, with a resigned shrug, begins taking their picture as they prank each other with fake wands.
Hermione grins, quietly thinking that Molly was hoping for a bit much when she asked Remus to try and get a nice, serious picture of the boys. It was never going to happen. And besides, what was the point? A picture of the twins being serious would just look strange.
Hermione patiently waits until last, Remus wisely surmising that she would be the one who wouldn’t mind waiting the longest. He eventually gets through all the pictures, everyone else having left as soon as they were done, and now it is Hermione’s turn.
Remus directs her to a nearby wing chair and asks her to sit in it. He paces in front of her, looking at her from various angles as he tries to decide where to take the picture from. She watches him looking at her, strangely not at all uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny.
He takes a few steps back and lifts the camera, looking at her through the viewfinder. He lowers the camera and gives her direction on how to pose. She follows his words as best she can, which is a vast improvement on everyone else, who simply ignored his instructions altogether. He looks through the camera again, but the angle of her head isn’t quite right. Remus moves forward, kneeling before her. Hermione almost stops breathing at their close proximity. Remus lifts a hand to her chin and angles it slightly. She moves freely beneath him and when he has her in the right position he meets her eye. And he can’t look away.
His hand slides down a bit, his fingers on her neck as they stare into each others eyes. The tension in the air between them is undeniable and yet neither acknowledges it. Hermione’s breathing is shallow and he can feel the beat of her heart in the blood rushing through her veins beneath his fingers. Hermione slowly lifts her hand, placing it over his, her fingers sliding between his. And then there is movement, Remus unconsciously inching forward for a moment before remembering himself and pulling back, his hand dropping from her neck, and he stands and walks back.
Hermione is breathless as she feels the distance between them growing. Remus turns, putting the camera up to his eyes. She looks at him, her heart pounding hard in her chest as he presses the button and the sound of the shutter is loud in the room.
Remus lowers the camera and they look at each other for a brief moment before he turns and exits the room without saying a word.
*
Hermione does one final check to make sure no one is around before sneaking into Remus’ room. She knows it’s wrong to invade his privacy like this but her curiosity is overwhelming and must be obeyed.
She presses the door closed and enters the room. It doesn’t take her long to seek out what she came here to find. They are fanned out on his desk, the photos he took of everyone that day, and hers is right on top.
She gingerly picks it up and stares at the picture. Hermione generally does not photograph well but this photo is different. It’s beautiful. The Hermione in the picture has sparkling eyes and a breathless, confused expression, but it is those things that make the photo so amazing.
There is a noise outside the room, a creak of a floorboard, so Hermione hastily but carefully places the photo back down, trying to make it look undisturbed. She looks up just in time to see the door open and Remus stop in his tracks at the sight of Hermione in the middle of his bedroom.
They look at each other for a moment. And just when Hermione opens her mouth to apologise for her presence Remus says, “Is everything okay?”
Hermione nods vigorously, trying to conjure some excuse for her being here. Nothing is forthcoming so instead she mumbles, “Sorry,” and starts to leave the room. But she is stopped by Remus, who grasps her arm as she tries to brush past him. She stops, the two of them standing side by side. She slowly lifts her gaze to meet his eyes, terrified of what he might see in her expression, that he might see the truth. Their eyes meet and he says nothing, just releases his grip on her arm, his fingers brushing the length of her arm as he lowers his hand.
“I’m sorry,” Hermione repeats, stalking out of the room without looking back.
Remus lets out a deep breath, shakily moving over to his desk and collapsing into the chair. His eyes instantly move to the photo on the desk top, and the hypnotic brown eyes he finds there.
*
When Harry tells her, she doesn’t believe him. It must be a misunderstanding. It has to be.
But then she creeps up to Remus’ room and sees him packing his things and she knows it’s true. He is leaving.
She goes back downstairs to Harry, asking him why Remus is leaving Grimmauld Place.
Harry shrugs. “He didn’t really say. Just said it was something he needed to do and left it at that. A bit weird, isn’t it?”
Hermione nods distractedly. She has a fairly certain idea as to why Remus is leaving and why he wouldn’t tell Harry what that reason was. It was her. She was the reason he was leaving.
She feels conflicted by this information. Surely this is some kind of proof that he feels something for her. Why would he run away otherwise? And the thought that he is feeling the same way she is makes her grin and turns her stomach. But then the knowledge that he would rather leave everyone than be around her is devastating.
She waits with Ron and Harry in the lounge. Eventually Remus comes downstairs, a suitcase in his hand.
The three of them stand at his approach, Harry moving forward to talk to Remus. Hermione hangs back and watches as the two of them softly converse. She can’t hear what they are saying but she can tell Harry is giving one last ditch effort to get him to stay.
Hermione feels numb as she stands back, powerless to do anything but watch as he leaves.
At last Harry gives up and the two men embrace. Harry shuffles off to the side. Remus transfers his suitcase between hands and when he looks up his eyes instantly connect with Hermione’s.
Their eyes meet just for a second, but it feels like forever. Her eyes are searching, desperate, while his are sad but resolute. He blinks and looks away, and after a last grim smile to each of the three friends, he walks out the door.
*
She is desperate for an excuse. She systematically scours the house, looking for anything; a jumper, a scarf, a picture. At last her salvation comes in the form of a book she has seen him read. She picks it up, delicately touching the leather cover. She grins, calmly walking downstairs.
She finds Harry and Ron in the kitchen. Lifting the book in her hands, she says, “I found this in the library. I’ve got to go run a few errands so I’ll drop it off while I’m out.”
Harry nods and Ron says, “See ya,” and she smiles at them and Apparates away.
She knows where he has moved to, of course, but she has not yet seen it for herself. The house is small, bushes running rampant in the front yard. Hermione opens the gate and makes her way down the path to the front door. With a deep breath, she raises her hand and knocks on the front door.
When Remus opens the door and sees Hermione, he is shocked. They just stand there a moment, Remus gaping at her over the threshold. But then he remembers himself, physically shaking his head as if to mentally clear his thoughts. He smiles, holding the door open for her, and with a shy smile Hermione enters his house.
The first room she comes to is a small sitting room. There is a small couch, a desk, a fireplace, and piles and piles of books. He enters the room behind her and she turns, holding out the book to him. “You left this.”
He takes it from her. “Thanks.” Remus places the book on a nearby stack of tomes and turns back to her. “Would you like a drink?”
She nods. “I’d love one. Thanks.”
Remus silently exits the room. Hermione takes advantage of his absence by scrutinizing the room more. The desk is covered with parchment and ink wells, messy scribblings marking much of the papers. There is a photo in a simple black frame, the faces of Sirius, Harry’s parents and a baby Harry grinning at her. She smiles at this picture of her best friend, noting the smooth skin on his forehead.
She scans the books on the shelves of the room. There seems to be no order in their placement, Austen next to Scamander, Tolkien next to Agrippa.
Remus returns with two mugs of tea. She accepts the proffered drink with a smile, and they both sit on the couch. Small talk is exchanged, but there is a tension beneath the words, as each bides their time, waiting for Hermione to say what she came here to say.
Finally, Hermione puts down her half empty mug and turns to Remus. He looks at her, watches her thumb idly stroking her thigh, hears her breathing in and out, and he is suddenly anxious. He turns away from her to put his drink down, taking the opportunity to take in a deep breath of air, before turning back to Hermione and giving her his full attention.
“There is something I want to say to you but I’m not sure how,” she says softly, nervously, her attention fixated on a small bit of fluff on her jeans.
Remus’ heart beats hard in his chest. “You can tell me anything, Hermione.”
She looks at him, and he suddenly becomes aware of how close they are. She briefly licks her lips and his breath catches in his throat.
She moves forward in an instant, her lips to his. His stubble is rough against her skin but she doesn’t care. Her tongue touches his lips and he opens them for her. The first touch of their tongues is electric, Hermione moaning and Remus bringing his hand to her face, his thumb smoothing over the arch of her cheek.
But then Remus remembers himself and in an instant he has torn himself away from her, stood up and taken a few steps away, his back to her. Hermione is breathless as she stares at his back, her hand to her chest.
He doesn’t turn back around. She is desperate to know his thoughts, his feelings. She wants to talk to him, wants him to talk to her, but she has no idea what to say. Her mind is full of but one thought.
“I love you,” she says at last, her voice low.
He slowly turns to face her. She is biting her lip nervously and she can see the confusion on his face. Either he doesn’t believe her or he does believe her and he is wrestling with how to deal with that.
They just stare at each other after Hermione’s pronouncement, neither knowing what to do next. In the end it is Hermione who breaks the stalemate, tension making her beg for an answer to her unspoken question.
“Say something,” she almost pleads.
“What would you like me to say, Hermione?” he replies, his voice calm.
“What people usually say in response to that statement.” She stands and takes a small step towards him. “That you love me too.”
There is no sound. There is no movement. There is only the words, hanging between them.
Remus starts to fidget. His calm demeanour has been shattered by her statement and he begins to pace. Hermione watches him, trying to determine his feelings by his actions. She is so anxious that her stomach hurts and all she can think about is how much she loves him and how terrified she is about what will happen now.
“Okay, fine,” Remus says resignedly, stopping his pacing. “I will admit that I feel more for you than I should…”
Hermione’s heart lifts.
“… but that doesn’t mean anything.”
Her heart falls.
“I don’t understand,” she says, and she truly doesn’t.
“Come on, Hermione. Someone as smart as you can’t be so naïve as to think that anything can come from this. You are barely seventeen and I am twenty years older than you. You have the brightest future of anyone I’ve ever met and I am barely acknowledged in society. You’re best friend is the son of my friends and the godson of my best friend. Shall I continue?”
Hermione stumbles back blindly, numbly collapsing back onto the couch. Her breath is shallow as tears escape her unblinking eyes. Remus sighs, joining her on the couch. He puts a hand on hers. His fingertips dance over her wrist, his fingers sliding between her sleeve and wrist.
“Hermione,” he says softly, and she looks at him with sad eyes. “You had to know how this would go. Me and you, we don’t belong together. Surely you can see that?”
“No, Remus, I don’t.”
And with that Hermione is up and out of the room, Apparating home.
*
Part of her thinks it would be better if she never saw him again. Yes, she would miss him and pine for him, but in the end she might learn to get over him. If she cut herself off from him then there wouldn’t be the constant torment of the tension between them when they meet.
But every time she is strong in her resolve she remembers the way his lips felt against hers or the brush of his fingers over her skin and she knows she can never abandon hope.
Their behaviour becomes strained and deliberate during the frequent times they see each other. Hermione is careful when the two of them are together, in the same room as Ron or Harry. There is a fine line; she needs to not show her true feelings but at the same time cannot be so distant as to make her friends question her behaviour.
She tries her hardest, but sometimes she thinks the drama that is constantly playing out between her and Remus can’t fail to be noticed. For Hermione, it is all she can feel, and she knows that it cannot go unseen by her best friends.
She sits on the back porch, a book in her hands. She hasn’t read a word in thirty minutes, the book being more of a cover so she can idly sit and while away the time thinking of him, remembering the words they have exchanged, imagining the possibilities of their future together. She is so distracted that she doesn’t register when Harry sits beside her.
Hermione finally notices him, smiling at her friend. Harry smiles back, but only briefly. Hermione goes back to her book.
“I know something is going on,” Harry says.
“What are you talking about?” Hermione replies distractedly.
“With you and Lupin.”
Her head snaps up, her eyes flying to his. Harry has been calling Remus by his first name for years, and the use of his surname now seems so cutting, so deliberate.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she says, trying to be dismissive.
His expression is serious when he says, “Yes, you do.”
The two old friends look at each other. Part of her wants to confess, admit the truth, talk to someone about her feelings. But she knows from how he is talking that Harry wouldn’t be too receptive to that kind of conversation.
She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want to lie to Harry yet she can’t tell him the truth. But her silence seems like an admission, one she doesn’t want to make.
In the end no response is necessary. Harry stands, and her eyes follow him as he moves to stand in front of her. He leans down, his face close to hers, and he says, his voice low, “Hermione, you are my friend, I love you, and I want you to be happy. But this is wrong. It is a mistake and you will regret it.”
He kisses her forehead and leaves her alone. And when she is certain he has left her presence, her lips begin to quiver and a tear runs down her face.
*
The next time she sees Remus, Harry’s words echo in her mind. Are her feelings for him wrong? If she pursues this will she later regret it?
But then her eyes meet his and he smiles at her. And Hermione knows. She can feel it in the tightening of her stomach and the way her heart beats hard in her chest.
It’s real. It’s right.
The four of them, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Remus, sit in the lounge after dinner, chatting amiably. Hermione wonders if Harry feels the need to ensure they are never alone, scared at what might happen if she and Remus were left alone for any small amount of time. For some reason that thought makes her smile.
Ron takes everyone’s glasses to re-fill them. He is gone only a few seconds before popping his head around the doorframe, telling Harry there is an urgent owl for him. Harry stands to exit the room. He looks back to Hermione briefly, who ignores his stare.
When they are alone, Remus and Hermione look at each other, Remus smiling before asking her how her day was.
Hermione briefly glances to the closed door, knowing that the boys won’t be very long and that if she wants to talk to him, really talk to him, try and get through to him, then she has to act quickly.
“There is something you need to know.”
Her sentence is an echo of that which she used to confess her feelings, something she can tell he remembers from the way he looks up at her. She smiles reassuringly at him, moving to the couch and sitting beside him.
“I know part of the reason you want to deny what is happening between us is because you are afraid of destroying my sensibilities, my innocence. But I am not as innocent as you imagine. I have had a relationship before, I have had sex before, so you won’t be harming me in any way or taking advantage of me.” She pauses a moment. “We can do this, Remus.”
He looks up at her and she can see the uncertainty in his eyes. But there is also hope there. He slowly reaches over and takes her hand in his. She smiles shakily at him as his thumb moves back and forth over the back of her hand. He smiles at her and opens his mouth to speak.
What he was going to say Hermione doesn’t find out. Ron enters the room and Remus withdraws his hand in an instant. He looks at her for one moment before standing and leaving the room.
She doesn’t mind. Because she knows she has gotten through to him and that everything has changed.
*
Hermione shuffles from foot to foot, adjusting her clothes. She is nervous, but she is excited too. With one last deep breath, she puts her hand to the doorknob and turns. She quietly enters the house and find Remus in the lounge.
He is surprised to see her. He goes to stand but she holds up a hand, indicating for him to stay seated, which he does. They look at each other across the length of the room. Hermione slowly moves forward until she stands in front of Remus on the couch. And then, without breaking eye contact, she moves forward, sliding onto his lap, her legs on either side of his body. His hands automatically go to her back to steady her and Remus realises how smart she is, knowing she has essentially trapped him because the only way to escape her would to be to physically push her off him.
Her face is inches from his and she can feel his breath on her face. His breathing is quick and when she reaches up and touches her fingertips to his face, his eyes flutter close. Hermione smiles, pressing her lips to his.
He kisses back, slow and languorous. Lips slide together and tongues touch and fingers roam and bodies are pressed together.
Remus breaks the kiss, slightly breathless, and he presses his forehead to Hermione’s.
“If I really loved you I wouldn’t let you do this.”
Hermione smiles briefly. “You do really love me.”
He leans back to look in her eyes, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Hermione is quite unprepared for how his declaration would make her feel. She is suddenly overwhelmed and ecstatic and terrified all at once. But he is smiling nervously at her and she can’t help but grin back before meeting his mouth in a passionate embrace.
Her hands move to his chest, fingers deftly undoing his buttons. He moans at the touch of her fingers on his skin, increasing the intensity of their kiss. She feels his hands run over her chest to the hem of her t-shirt. He breaks their kiss, looking into her eyes as he removes her top. He puts his lips to her neck, Hermione letting her head fall back as she sighs in pleasure. She puts her hands in his hair as he moves down her neck, his lips and tongue exploring her.
Hermione moans when his lips find her breast, his tongue swirling around the taut nipple. It is as though a switch has suddenly been thrown within her, and she pulls him back up to her mouth, kissing him as though her life depended on it.
She undoes his belt, then just as quickly undoes the button of his pants and pulls down the zip. She reaches in, slipping her hand beneath his boxers and grasping his cock in her hand. He moans at the contact, breaking their kiss, his face pressed against hers, panting as she runs her hand up and down him.
Part of her wishes that things were different, that their first time together was more romantic, with music and candles and a bed. But then the feel of Remus’ hand on her stomach and his breath on her neck makes her desperate for him, right here and right now, and she cannot wait.
She removes her hand from him, both hands going to his hips. She grasps the material of his pants and boxers and, understanding her intention, Remus briefly lifts his body, allowing Hermione to push his clothes down his legs.
Hermione smiles, her hands on his chest. She kisses his lips briefly before meeting his eyes, keeping that eye contact as she lifts her skirt and shuffles forward slightly. Their eyes are locked as she sinks down onto him, both of them crying out at the sensation.
They take a moment, revelling in the sensation of being joined in this way. Remus presses his lips to hers as they start moving together. Arms wrapped around each other, they move slowly at first, moaning at the sensation. But it doesn’t take long for their movements to become more frenetic, more desperate.
She closes her eyes as she gets closer, the sensation of them together heightened by the removal of that sense. She can hear his breath become short as he too gets closer. He says her name, over and over, and it’s the best sound she has ever heard.
Hermione cries out as she climaxes, her head thrown back as a primal sound escapes her throat. It is more than enough to take Remus over the edge and he comes with her name on his lips.
Hermione rests her head on his shoulder as she comes down from her orgasm. They are both breathless, Remus moving his hands up and down her bare back.
After a few moments, Hermione leans back to look him in the eyes. He smiles, reaching up and letting his fingertips move lightly over her cheek. She sighs, leaning forward and pressing her forehead to his, her eyes closing in contentment.
“Wow,” she whispers.
He grins, silently agreeing.
*
She wonders how to say the words. How can she tell them?
Hermione smiles, staring unabashedly at him. He sighs in his sleep. She wiggles closer to him, running her fingertips along the smooth lines and angles of his face. She can feel his breath on her palm and she presses her lips to his arm.
How will she tell her best friends that she has fallen in love with Remus? She has no idea. But what she does know is that she loves him, he loves her, and they are going to be together.
And they are going to be happy.
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Remus/Hermione
Word Count: 4929
Disclaimer: Say it with me now ~ me ... don't ... own. Inspired in part by Fortune's Rocks by Anita Shreve.
Summary: His hand slides down a bit, his fingers on her neck as they stare into each others eyes. The tension in the air between them is undeniable and yet neither acknowledges it. Hermione’s breathing is shallow and he can feel the beat of her heart in the blood rushing through her veins beneath his fingers. Hermione slowly lifts her hand, placing it over his, her fingers sliding between his...
Authors notes: I hate summaries - I can never think of what to write. :O) Ths fic can be read as an unofficial sequel to Prelude. Written for the
wizard_love exchange. Enjoy everyone!50_smutlets prompt: On CameraCulmination
Hermione shuffles from foot to foot. Taking a deep breath, she puts her hand to the doorknob and turns, entering the house.
Harry and Ron come bounding into the foyer before she has time to close the door behind her. The boys grin at her, rushing forward and enveloping her in an enthusiastic hug. She grins, dropping her bags and hugging them back.
They release her and take her bags. She trails behind them, stopping abruptly when Remus emerges, casually walking down the stairs.
“Hermione,” he says pleasantly, smiling at her.
She smiles back, watching as he slowly descends the stairs while Harry and Ron walk up them. He takes the few extra steps to her, leaning across and kissing her cheek. “How have you been?”
“Fine thankyou. You?”
“Good. Congratulations. I hear you received the best N.E.W.T. results Hogwarts has seen for a few years.”
Hermione smiles shyly, looking to the ground. “Thankyou, Remus.”
“Not that I was surprised, of course.” He smiles at her, genuine and warm, and she smiles back.
“Hermione?” comes the voice of Ron from upstairs.
“Coming,” she yells back, rolling her eyes, making Remus laugh. She smiles at him then moves around him, her arm brushing his in the process. She walks upstairs on unsteady feet, unaware that she does not go unwatched.
*
Hermione smiles to herself as she leans on the doorway, watching Remus as he works away at something. He hasn’t noticed her yet and she delights in this rare opportunity to observe him without his knowledge. He is fiddling with an old muggle camera, cleaning it out. She is mesmerized by his hands as they move over the object; they are large and graceful and probably the most beautiful hands she has ever seen.
She laughs to herself at the silliness of internally waxing poetic about his hands and he turns at the sound. He smiles in greeting, says, “Hello, Hermione,” before going back to what he was doing.
Hermione meanders into the room and stands by the desk. It is covered with tools and rags and cleaning materials. “What’s all this then?” she asks.
Remus glances up. “Molly discovered some of my old photos and wants me to take some pictures for her. I thought about saying no but she is so stubborn she probably would have won out in the end anyway. But I haven’t used this stuff in years so it needs to be cleaned first.”
Hermione suddenly notices a nearby photo album. It’s quite large, covered with a black jacquard. “May I?” she asks, nodding to the album.
“Of course,” he says, surprised, as if she should know that she needn’t ask.
She picks up the book and sits down opposite him. They smile briefly at each other before they each go to their own tasks; Remus and his camera and Hermione and the album.
She opens the book and slowly flicks through the pages. She isn’t surprised that Molly has asked Remus to take some photos for her. Looking at these pictures, its clear that Remus is a gifted photographer. Even though Hermione recognizes virtually no one from these photos of Remus’ youth, the obvious exceptions being pictures of Sirius, Pettigrew and Harry’s parents, each photo makes her feel something. Even the pictures of inanimate objects are beautiful in their own way.
“Remus,” she says, making him look up to her. “These are really beautiful.”
He smiles shyly in return, as though he isn’t used to hearing such praise. “Thank you,” he replies, genuinely flattered that she likes them so much.
They look at each other for a moment, the world outside their gaze ceasing to exist for a moment. Remus breaks the stalemate, quickly blurting out, “Can I take your picture, Hermione?”
She simply smiles in reply.
*
Hermione watches on in amusement as Remus tries to marshal the unruly group of young adults. Fred and George are being their usual mischievous selves, Harry and Ron look bored with the whole proceeding and Ginny and Luna look like they are in a whole nother world completely.
She catches his eyes amongst the chaos and smiles encouragingly at him. He grins in return, dropping a subtle wink before turning back to the twins and, with a resigned shrug, begins taking their picture as they prank each other with fake wands.
Hermione grins, quietly thinking that Molly was hoping for a bit much when she asked Remus to try and get a nice, serious picture of the boys. It was never going to happen. And besides, what was the point? A picture of the twins being serious would just look strange.
Hermione patiently waits until last, Remus wisely surmising that she would be the one who wouldn’t mind waiting the longest. He eventually gets through all the pictures, everyone else having left as soon as they were done, and now it is Hermione’s turn.
Remus directs her to a nearby wing chair and asks her to sit in it. He paces in front of her, looking at her from various angles as he tries to decide where to take the picture from. She watches him looking at her, strangely not at all uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny.
He takes a few steps back and lifts the camera, looking at her through the viewfinder. He lowers the camera and gives her direction on how to pose. She follows his words as best she can, which is a vast improvement on everyone else, who simply ignored his instructions altogether. He looks through the camera again, but the angle of her head isn’t quite right. Remus moves forward, kneeling before her. Hermione almost stops breathing at their close proximity. Remus lifts a hand to her chin and angles it slightly. She moves freely beneath him and when he has her in the right position he meets her eye. And he can’t look away.
His hand slides down a bit, his fingers on her neck as they stare into each others eyes. The tension in the air between them is undeniable and yet neither acknowledges it. Hermione’s breathing is shallow and he can feel the beat of her heart in the blood rushing through her veins beneath his fingers. Hermione slowly lifts her hand, placing it over his, her fingers sliding between his. And then there is movement, Remus unconsciously inching forward for a moment before remembering himself and pulling back, his hand dropping from her neck, and he stands and walks back.
Hermione is breathless as she feels the distance between them growing. Remus turns, putting the camera up to his eyes. She looks at him, her heart pounding hard in her chest as he presses the button and the sound of the shutter is loud in the room.
Remus lowers the camera and they look at each other for a brief moment before he turns and exits the room without saying a word.
*
Hermione does one final check to make sure no one is around before sneaking into Remus’ room. She knows it’s wrong to invade his privacy like this but her curiosity is overwhelming and must be obeyed.
She presses the door closed and enters the room. It doesn’t take her long to seek out what she came here to find. They are fanned out on his desk, the photos he took of everyone that day, and hers is right on top.
She gingerly picks it up and stares at the picture. Hermione generally does not photograph well but this photo is different. It’s beautiful. The Hermione in the picture has sparkling eyes and a breathless, confused expression, but it is those things that make the photo so amazing.
There is a noise outside the room, a creak of a floorboard, so Hermione hastily but carefully places the photo back down, trying to make it look undisturbed. She looks up just in time to see the door open and Remus stop in his tracks at the sight of Hermione in the middle of his bedroom.
They look at each other for a moment. And just when Hermione opens her mouth to apologise for her presence Remus says, “Is everything okay?”
Hermione nods vigorously, trying to conjure some excuse for her being here. Nothing is forthcoming so instead she mumbles, “Sorry,” and starts to leave the room. But she is stopped by Remus, who grasps her arm as she tries to brush past him. She stops, the two of them standing side by side. She slowly lifts her gaze to meet his eyes, terrified of what he might see in her expression, that he might see the truth. Their eyes meet and he says nothing, just releases his grip on her arm, his fingers brushing the length of her arm as he lowers his hand.
“I’m sorry,” Hermione repeats, stalking out of the room without looking back.
Remus lets out a deep breath, shakily moving over to his desk and collapsing into the chair. His eyes instantly move to the photo on the desk top, and the hypnotic brown eyes he finds there.
*
When Harry tells her, she doesn’t believe him. It must be a misunderstanding. It has to be.
But then she creeps up to Remus’ room and sees him packing his things and she knows it’s true. He is leaving.
She goes back downstairs to Harry, asking him why Remus is leaving Grimmauld Place.
Harry shrugs. “He didn’t really say. Just said it was something he needed to do and left it at that. A bit weird, isn’t it?”
Hermione nods distractedly. She has a fairly certain idea as to why Remus is leaving and why he wouldn’t tell Harry what that reason was. It was her. She was the reason he was leaving.
She feels conflicted by this information. Surely this is some kind of proof that he feels something for her. Why would he run away otherwise? And the thought that he is feeling the same way she is makes her grin and turns her stomach. But then the knowledge that he would rather leave everyone than be around her is devastating.
She waits with Ron and Harry in the lounge. Eventually Remus comes downstairs, a suitcase in his hand.
The three of them stand at his approach, Harry moving forward to talk to Remus. Hermione hangs back and watches as the two of them softly converse. She can’t hear what they are saying but she can tell Harry is giving one last ditch effort to get him to stay.
Hermione feels numb as she stands back, powerless to do anything but watch as he leaves.
At last Harry gives up and the two men embrace. Harry shuffles off to the side. Remus transfers his suitcase between hands and when he looks up his eyes instantly connect with Hermione’s.
Their eyes meet just for a second, but it feels like forever. Her eyes are searching, desperate, while his are sad but resolute. He blinks and looks away, and after a last grim smile to each of the three friends, he walks out the door.
*
She is desperate for an excuse. She systematically scours the house, looking for anything; a jumper, a scarf, a picture. At last her salvation comes in the form of a book she has seen him read. She picks it up, delicately touching the leather cover. She grins, calmly walking downstairs.
She finds Harry and Ron in the kitchen. Lifting the book in her hands, she says, “I found this in the library. I’ve got to go run a few errands so I’ll drop it off while I’m out.”
Harry nods and Ron says, “See ya,” and she smiles at them and Apparates away.
She knows where he has moved to, of course, but she has not yet seen it for herself. The house is small, bushes running rampant in the front yard. Hermione opens the gate and makes her way down the path to the front door. With a deep breath, she raises her hand and knocks on the front door.
When Remus opens the door and sees Hermione, he is shocked. They just stand there a moment, Remus gaping at her over the threshold. But then he remembers himself, physically shaking his head as if to mentally clear his thoughts. He smiles, holding the door open for her, and with a shy smile Hermione enters his house.
The first room she comes to is a small sitting room. There is a small couch, a desk, a fireplace, and piles and piles of books. He enters the room behind her and she turns, holding out the book to him. “You left this.”
He takes it from her. “Thanks.” Remus places the book on a nearby stack of tomes and turns back to her. “Would you like a drink?”
She nods. “I’d love one. Thanks.”
Remus silently exits the room. Hermione takes advantage of his absence by scrutinizing the room more. The desk is covered with parchment and ink wells, messy scribblings marking much of the papers. There is a photo in a simple black frame, the faces of Sirius, Harry’s parents and a baby Harry grinning at her. She smiles at this picture of her best friend, noting the smooth skin on his forehead.
She scans the books on the shelves of the room. There seems to be no order in their placement, Austen next to Scamander, Tolkien next to Agrippa.
Remus returns with two mugs of tea. She accepts the proffered drink with a smile, and they both sit on the couch. Small talk is exchanged, but there is a tension beneath the words, as each bides their time, waiting for Hermione to say what she came here to say.
Finally, Hermione puts down her half empty mug and turns to Remus. He looks at her, watches her thumb idly stroking her thigh, hears her breathing in and out, and he is suddenly anxious. He turns away from her to put his drink down, taking the opportunity to take in a deep breath of air, before turning back to Hermione and giving her his full attention.
“There is something I want to say to you but I’m not sure how,” she says softly, nervously, her attention fixated on a small bit of fluff on her jeans.
Remus’ heart beats hard in his chest. “You can tell me anything, Hermione.”
She looks at him, and he suddenly becomes aware of how close they are. She briefly licks her lips and his breath catches in his throat.
She moves forward in an instant, her lips to his. His stubble is rough against her skin but she doesn’t care. Her tongue touches his lips and he opens them for her. The first touch of their tongues is electric, Hermione moaning and Remus bringing his hand to her face, his thumb smoothing over the arch of her cheek.
But then Remus remembers himself and in an instant he has torn himself away from her, stood up and taken a few steps away, his back to her. Hermione is breathless as she stares at his back, her hand to her chest.
He doesn’t turn back around. She is desperate to know his thoughts, his feelings. She wants to talk to him, wants him to talk to her, but she has no idea what to say. Her mind is full of but one thought.
“I love you,” she says at last, her voice low.
He slowly turns to face her. She is biting her lip nervously and she can see the confusion on his face. Either he doesn’t believe her or he does believe her and he is wrestling with how to deal with that.
They just stare at each other after Hermione’s pronouncement, neither knowing what to do next. In the end it is Hermione who breaks the stalemate, tension making her beg for an answer to her unspoken question.
“Say something,” she almost pleads.
“What would you like me to say, Hermione?” he replies, his voice calm.
“What people usually say in response to that statement.” She stands and takes a small step towards him. “That you love me too.”
There is no sound. There is no movement. There is only the words, hanging between them.
Remus starts to fidget. His calm demeanour has been shattered by her statement and he begins to pace. Hermione watches him, trying to determine his feelings by his actions. She is so anxious that her stomach hurts and all she can think about is how much she loves him and how terrified she is about what will happen now.
“Okay, fine,” Remus says resignedly, stopping his pacing. “I will admit that I feel more for you than I should…”
Hermione’s heart lifts.
“… but that doesn’t mean anything.”
Her heart falls.
“I don’t understand,” she says, and she truly doesn’t.
“Come on, Hermione. Someone as smart as you can’t be so naïve as to think that anything can come from this. You are barely seventeen and I am twenty years older than you. You have the brightest future of anyone I’ve ever met and I am barely acknowledged in society. You’re best friend is the son of my friends and the godson of my best friend. Shall I continue?”
Hermione stumbles back blindly, numbly collapsing back onto the couch. Her breath is shallow as tears escape her unblinking eyes. Remus sighs, joining her on the couch. He puts a hand on hers. His fingertips dance over her wrist, his fingers sliding between her sleeve and wrist.
“Hermione,” he says softly, and she looks at him with sad eyes. “You had to know how this would go. Me and you, we don’t belong together. Surely you can see that?”
“No, Remus, I don’t.”
And with that Hermione is up and out of the room, Apparating home.
*
Part of her thinks it would be better if she never saw him again. Yes, she would miss him and pine for him, but in the end she might learn to get over him. If she cut herself off from him then there wouldn’t be the constant torment of the tension between them when they meet.
But every time she is strong in her resolve she remembers the way his lips felt against hers or the brush of his fingers over her skin and she knows she can never abandon hope.
Their behaviour becomes strained and deliberate during the frequent times they see each other. Hermione is careful when the two of them are together, in the same room as Ron or Harry. There is a fine line; she needs to not show her true feelings but at the same time cannot be so distant as to make her friends question her behaviour.
She tries her hardest, but sometimes she thinks the drama that is constantly playing out between her and Remus can’t fail to be noticed. For Hermione, it is all she can feel, and she knows that it cannot go unseen by her best friends.
She sits on the back porch, a book in her hands. She hasn’t read a word in thirty minutes, the book being more of a cover so she can idly sit and while away the time thinking of him, remembering the words they have exchanged, imagining the possibilities of their future together. She is so distracted that she doesn’t register when Harry sits beside her.
Hermione finally notices him, smiling at her friend. Harry smiles back, but only briefly. Hermione goes back to her book.
“I know something is going on,” Harry says.
“What are you talking about?” Hermione replies distractedly.
“With you and Lupin.”
Her head snaps up, her eyes flying to his. Harry has been calling Remus by his first name for years, and the use of his surname now seems so cutting, so deliberate.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she says, trying to be dismissive.
His expression is serious when he says, “Yes, you do.”
The two old friends look at each other. Part of her wants to confess, admit the truth, talk to someone about her feelings. But she knows from how he is talking that Harry wouldn’t be too receptive to that kind of conversation.
She doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want to lie to Harry yet she can’t tell him the truth. But her silence seems like an admission, one she doesn’t want to make.
In the end no response is necessary. Harry stands, and her eyes follow him as he moves to stand in front of her. He leans down, his face close to hers, and he says, his voice low, “Hermione, you are my friend, I love you, and I want you to be happy. But this is wrong. It is a mistake and you will regret it.”
He kisses her forehead and leaves her alone. And when she is certain he has left her presence, her lips begin to quiver and a tear runs down her face.
*
The next time she sees Remus, Harry’s words echo in her mind. Are her feelings for him wrong? If she pursues this will she later regret it?
But then her eyes meet his and he smiles at her. And Hermione knows. She can feel it in the tightening of her stomach and the way her heart beats hard in her chest.
It’s real. It’s right.
The four of them, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Remus, sit in the lounge after dinner, chatting amiably. Hermione wonders if Harry feels the need to ensure they are never alone, scared at what might happen if she and Remus were left alone for any small amount of time. For some reason that thought makes her smile.
Ron takes everyone’s glasses to re-fill them. He is gone only a few seconds before popping his head around the doorframe, telling Harry there is an urgent owl for him. Harry stands to exit the room. He looks back to Hermione briefly, who ignores his stare.
When they are alone, Remus and Hermione look at each other, Remus smiling before asking her how her day was.
Hermione briefly glances to the closed door, knowing that the boys won’t be very long and that if she wants to talk to him, really talk to him, try and get through to him, then she has to act quickly.
“There is something you need to know.”
Her sentence is an echo of that which she used to confess her feelings, something she can tell he remembers from the way he looks up at her. She smiles reassuringly at him, moving to the couch and sitting beside him.
“I know part of the reason you want to deny what is happening between us is because you are afraid of destroying my sensibilities, my innocence. But I am not as innocent as you imagine. I have had a relationship before, I have had sex before, so you won’t be harming me in any way or taking advantage of me.” She pauses a moment. “We can do this, Remus.”
He looks up at her and she can see the uncertainty in his eyes. But there is also hope there. He slowly reaches over and takes her hand in his. She smiles shakily at him as his thumb moves back and forth over the back of her hand. He smiles at her and opens his mouth to speak.
What he was going to say Hermione doesn’t find out. Ron enters the room and Remus withdraws his hand in an instant. He looks at her for one moment before standing and leaving the room.
She doesn’t mind. Because she knows she has gotten through to him and that everything has changed.
*
Hermione shuffles from foot to foot, adjusting her clothes. She is nervous, but she is excited too. With one last deep breath, she puts her hand to the doorknob and turns. She quietly enters the house and find Remus in the lounge.
He is surprised to see her. He goes to stand but she holds up a hand, indicating for him to stay seated, which he does. They look at each other across the length of the room. Hermione slowly moves forward until she stands in front of Remus on the couch. And then, without breaking eye contact, she moves forward, sliding onto his lap, her legs on either side of his body. His hands automatically go to her back to steady her and Remus realises how smart she is, knowing she has essentially trapped him because the only way to escape her would to be to physically push her off him.
Her face is inches from his and she can feel his breath on her face. His breathing is quick and when she reaches up and touches her fingertips to his face, his eyes flutter close. Hermione smiles, pressing her lips to his.
He kisses back, slow and languorous. Lips slide together and tongues touch and fingers roam and bodies are pressed together.
Remus breaks the kiss, slightly breathless, and he presses his forehead to Hermione’s.
“If I really loved you I wouldn’t let you do this.”
Hermione smiles briefly. “You do really love me.”
He leans back to look in her eyes, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Hermione is quite unprepared for how his declaration would make her feel. She is suddenly overwhelmed and ecstatic and terrified all at once. But he is smiling nervously at her and she can’t help but grin back before meeting his mouth in a passionate embrace.
Her hands move to his chest, fingers deftly undoing his buttons. He moans at the touch of her fingers on his skin, increasing the intensity of their kiss. She feels his hands run over her chest to the hem of her t-shirt. He breaks their kiss, looking into her eyes as he removes her top. He puts his lips to her neck, Hermione letting her head fall back as she sighs in pleasure. She puts her hands in his hair as he moves down her neck, his lips and tongue exploring her.
Hermione moans when his lips find her breast, his tongue swirling around the taut nipple. It is as though a switch has suddenly been thrown within her, and she pulls him back up to her mouth, kissing him as though her life depended on it.
She undoes his belt, then just as quickly undoes the button of his pants and pulls down the zip. She reaches in, slipping her hand beneath his boxers and grasping his cock in her hand. He moans at the contact, breaking their kiss, his face pressed against hers, panting as she runs her hand up and down him.
Part of her wishes that things were different, that their first time together was more romantic, with music and candles and a bed. But then the feel of Remus’ hand on her stomach and his breath on her neck makes her desperate for him, right here and right now, and she cannot wait.
She removes her hand from him, both hands going to his hips. She grasps the material of his pants and boxers and, understanding her intention, Remus briefly lifts his body, allowing Hermione to push his clothes down his legs.
Hermione smiles, her hands on his chest. She kisses his lips briefly before meeting his eyes, keeping that eye contact as she lifts her skirt and shuffles forward slightly. Their eyes are locked as she sinks down onto him, both of them crying out at the sensation.
They take a moment, revelling in the sensation of being joined in this way. Remus presses his lips to hers as they start moving together. Arms wrapped around each other, they move slowly at first, moaning at the sensation. But it doesn’t take long for their movements to become more frenetic, more desperate.
She closes her eyes as she gets closer, the sensation of them together heightened by the removal of that sense. She can hear his breath become short as he too gets closer. He says her name, over and over, and it’s the best sound she has ever heard.
Hermione cries out as she climaxes, her head thrown back as a primal sound escapes her throat. It is more than enough to take Remus over the edge and he comes with her name on his lips.
Hermione rests her head on his shoulder as she comes down from her orgasm. They are both breathless, Remus moving his hands up and down her bare back.
After a few moments, Hermione leans back to look him in the eyes. He smiles, reaching up and letting his fingertips move lightly over her cheek. She sighs, leaning forward and pressing her forehead to his, her eyes closing in contentment.
“Wow,” she whispers.
He grins, silently agreeing.
*
She wonders how to say the words. How can she tell them?
Hermione smiles, staring unabashedly at him. He sighs in his sleep. She wiggles closer to him, running her fingertips along the smooth lines and angles of his face. She can feel his breath on her palm and she presses her lips to his arm.
How will she tell her best friends that she has fallen in love with Remus? She has no idea. But what she does know is that she loves him, he loves her, and they are going to be together.
And they are going to be happy.
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Date: 2007-03-12 07:50 am (UTC)Awwww.
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Date: 2007-03-12 07:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-12 11:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-13 12:53 am (UTC)No, not in a bad way! Just...different. Like strawberry when you're used to raspberry. =D
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Date: 2007-03-12 11:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-12 10:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-12 10:30 am (UTC)Beautiful, just beautiful.
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Date: 2007-03-12 11:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-12 11:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-13 01:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-12 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-13 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-14 06:12 pm (UTC)Enjoy it I most certainly did! It has to be one of my favourites from you or anyone, really, I loved it. =)
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Date: 2007-03-15 01:43 am (UTC)Thanks hun. I'm thrilled you enjoyed it.
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Date: 2007-03-14 09:59 pm (UTC)AMAZING! This will fuel my dreams for days.
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Date: 2007-03-15 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-23 04:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-23 04:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-03-31 11:39 pm (UTC)Thank you!
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Date: 2007-04-01 12:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-09 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-09 04:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-12 08:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-13 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 08:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-12-03 04:35 am (UTC)Thanks so much for your wonderful comments. I'm so glad you enjoyed this fic. :O)
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Date: 2009-12-10 04:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-11 03:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-29 06:07 pm (UTC)that was beautifully made!
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Date: 2010-07-30 03:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-08 01:40 am (UTC)The ending was so pretty--sometimes (almost always) this style one-shot ends really unhappily, so I'm loving the hopeful note that it ended with.
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Date: 2011-10-10 02:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-29 04:32 am (UTC)