by
Anaphalis
Summary: Harry needs anger management. Hermione needs to get laid. Remus needs a drink. Two out of three ain't bad. Smutty Angsty Fluff. You've been warned. One Shot. Remus/Hermione.
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Distribution: My site. All others please ask before taking.
Feedback: Much appreciated at [email protected]
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Brushes on this page courtesy of Pure Anodyne.
Should auld aquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet
For days of Auld Lang Syne.
-Robbie Burns, "Auld Lang Syne"
The door slammed shut with such force that the pictures in the hallway started vibrating and protesting the disturbance. Remus ignored all of them, instead rubbing his forehead in an attempt to relieve the tension between his temples.
He'd tried. For five years now, he'd done everything he could to be a good guardian to Harry. It had worked for a little while, but after the end of the war... No matter what Remus did he would never be Sirius. The corner of his mouth quirked as he wondered if Harry knew how hard Remus had tried to do just that when he was still a student. It probably wouldn't have made a difference- he and Harry seemed to be unable to find anything in common these days. He supposed that being the fifth anniversary of that event didn't make it easier for either of them.
"Is he gone?"
She'd probably come straight from her lab- there were dark stains on her sweater and a faint smell of sulphur when he inhaled. It brought a brief, dizzying moment of nostalgia for a younger Hermione covered in potions and shrieking about her NEWTs and her future. He could still remember the grim lines on her face when she realized that she would never be more than the lowest level of Ministry staff if she accepted a position. He didn't think that she'd truly understood before then the level of anti-Muggleborn sentiment in the Wizarding World- even for a war hero. With no parents, no ties left in the Muggle world, she'd been forced to move into Grimmauld Place to set up her lab as an independent Potions contractor.
He couldn't say that he regretted it.
The light touch of her fingers on his wrist brought him out of his thoughts.
"So what set him off this time?"
He tried to fight the urge to lean back into her body heat. The anniversary, Harry's volatility and three days before the full moon- his nerves were rubbed completely raw. He craved her friendly, comforting touch with a force that frightened him.
Which was why he briskly pulled his arm out of her reach and tensed his already stiff back even farther. "I didn't save them- either of them. Twice a year he needs to remind both of us."
Her fingers brushed his shoulder. "Come on. You look like you could use a drink."
It was amazing how quickly she had him seated at the table; disappearing then reappearing with a bottle of fire whiskey and two glasses.
He wondered when she'd learned to serve drinks with such expert efficiency.
The first shot burned his throat with a comforting pain. It probably wouldn't help his headache, or anything else, but it wouldn't hurt to get started a little early on his anniversary binge. With any luck, the day would be over that much faster. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten about his companion.
"So why exactly are you responsible for the deaths of Ron and Sirius?"
Precise as a stiletto and the subtlety of a rampaging elephant. War may have dulled Hermione's swottiness and moralizing preaching, but it certainly had done nothing for her tact.
"I didn't save them."
"Neither did I."
He was furious at her flippancy, but when he looked over he was met with nothing but aching sincerity. He sometimes forgot that he and Harry weren't the only ones who suffered.
"Harry's falling to pieces, Remus. He had to carry the world on his shoulders and he doesn't really know what to do now that it's no longer his responsibility. Not to mention that I think he had some strange half-arsed idea that defeating Voldemort would somehow undo everything he'd done. I think the knowledge that they were really gone didn't kick in until then. It still doesn't give him the right to take it out on you."
"He's my ward. He's had to handle so much and it's not fair of me to get upset with him."
"He's my friend, Remus. That doesn't mean he can't be a complete and utter arse."
He couldn't help the twitch at the corner of his mouth- Hermione was good for that. He'd had a hard enough time remembering how young she was before the war. Now, when she was more than legally an adult and touched by death and shadow, he couldn't ever remember not thinking of her as someone his age.
With a slight frown, he realized that he'd finished off an impressive amount of fire whiskey while thinking. His back still ached though and he let out an involuntary wince when he shrugged.
Hermione gave him that prissy frown that she'd perfected in her years as prefect. He tried to ignore the resulting shot of heat to his groin.
"You know you're supposed to tell me when you get tense- you can't afford strained muscles this close to the full moon. It's painful enough as it is without adding tension. Now sit still."
The feel of her weight against his back as she stood behind him wasn't doing anything for his tension. He carefully tried to focus his alcohol-fogged mind on relaxation techniques and not his pathetic ache for any kind of human contact. In spite of his best intentions, he couldn't help but let out a small groan as her hands expertly worked the knots in his over-tensed shoulders.
It was probably the alcohol that prompted the question. "Why do you always help me? Why try to make me feel better?"
The feel of her breath against his ear made him dizzy. "I've always liked helping the downtrodden."
And she was standing in front of him, cheeks flushed and a strange determined expression on her face. Between the alcoholic buzz in his head and the disturbing glint in Hermione's eye, Remus was more than a little rattled. And definitely not as coherent as he'd have liked to be.
"I'm not a-a house elf!"
He hadn't thought that it was possible for her smile to get more predatory. "That's good. I don't think I'd want to do this to Dobby."
Oh. Merlin's. Balls.
That was definitely not something he'd ever imagined her wanting to do to Dobby.
Probably not something she should want to do to him either and he'd tell her that just as soon as she... oh... right there... bloody... buggering... hell...
In between choked moans, he hazily decided that if she had extended this kind of service to the house elves SPEW would have been an overwhelming success.
He actually whimpered when she removed her hand. Where the hell had all his years of hard-won control gone?
Apparently the same place that Hermione's mouth was now going.
"N-no."
Even to him it sounded unconvincing.
"No?"
The raised eyebrow combined with her mouth hovering over him-
What was he fighting again?
Since his hands were tangled in her hair, pushing her down, his mouth opened in a half-snarl... apparently nothing.
It was a little clumsy and awkward and he knew what that probably meant about her experience. He couldn't bring himself to care. Especially since she seemed to carry her fantastic sense of observation and speed of learning into all of her activities.
Later, when he could actually think about it, he'd just blame it on the alcohol for not turning down some pity contact.
And he'd blame the alcohol for picking her up and carrying her up the stairs and throwing her on the bed and undressing them and kissing her so long and hard that he saw spots in front of his eyes while they were moving with such wild uncoordination that he was lucky he didn't throw his back.
He wondered if all pity sex felt like your brain had exploded and was dribbling out your ear.
And then, to his complete and utter embarrassment, he didn't wonder anything else because he pulled Hermione against him and promptly fell asleep.
When he sleepily blinked his eyes, the headache he'd expected was just starting but something else was... missing.
And then he remembered.
For the first time in five years, he hadn't drunk himself into oblivion on Sirius' anniversary. The hollow ache of being without his friends was curiously absent.
Instead a warm body snuggled closer to his chest and let out a sleepy, "Morning."
Oh hell.
"Did I- did I hurt you?"
The laughter was both reassuring and a little insulting.
"I'm not a complete innocent, Remus. Ron..."
He held her more tightly as she trailed off. "Thank you... for the comfort."
He wondered why it hurt.
The silence made him itch. When she spoke, her voice was far shakier than he was used to hearing. And apparently addressed to his collarbone. "It wasn't just about comfort. I- I've wanted this for so long and I took advantage. I know you don't want this, but I don't regret what happened and please... Oh god, Remus, please forgive me."
She pulled back so that she could look him in the eyes while he tried desperately to stabilize his madly tilting world.
She looked... vulnerable.
He could almost see the last of her artificial bravery fleeing as she waited for his response.
He realized with a cold shock, that it hadn't been pity that had given her that passion but- Before she had a chance to feel the guilt and fear he could see starting in her eyes, he pulled her against him, so close he could feel her frantically beating heart.
"I don't- I don't regret this. At all."
And he didn't.
"But what about you? I'm not only older, I'm a werewolf-"
It was a little annoying to be constantly interrupted by laughter.
"Did we shag so hard that you've forgotten who I am?"
Ignoring the renewed flare of arousal at her use of 'shag', he realized that she had a good point.
He had managed to sleep with the only woman in the wizarding world who wouldn't care whether or not her shag was a werewolf. Or a half-giant. Or a house elf.
Not flattering, but it did give him a curious sense of freedom.
"I make your Wolfsbane potion, I stay with you whenever I can during the full moon- has it ever seemed like it bothered me?"
He had to chuckle a little himself, if only to express a little of his massive relief. "I forgot you had a thing for the animalistic types."
Instead of the hard slap that he expected �and deserved- her eyes took on an even scarier look of mischief. "Actually, I had a thing for DADA professors."
Umbridge briefly flashed through his mind before being banished to 'We-shall-never-think-of-this-again.' "I'm sure Moody would have been delighted to hear that."
Hermione gave him a light slap, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Of course he would have. I'd have been lucky if he hadn't turned me permanently into something much worse than a ferret."
Remus ran through the list of professors in his mind, before a disturbing realization hit him. "That doesn't mean- Not Snape?"
Hermione's mouth was definitely twitching. "Why not? He was a brilliant man. And we both know that the mind is the greatest aphrodisiac."
He couldn't have stopped the laughter if he tried. It felt so good to be able to laugh while thinking of the past. Moody, Sirius... even Snape- it had hurt to remember their absence. It had hurt to once again be the one left behind.
Maybe all he'd needed was someone to be left behind with.
Which was disturbing, sappy and completely twisted. Obviously ending his long celibacy had affected more than his hormones. Unfortunately he wasn't far gone enough in sappiness to forget the major problem.
"Harry will be upset."
"Does that change anything?"
He looked at her, curled in the circle of his arms, and had to close his eyes at the strength of the sudden possessive fury that passed through him.
"No."
"Good."
It felt so good, so peaceful to lie there, but he still needed to clear things completely.
"So what about Harry?"
"He needs to come to his own terms... with everything. We can't- we can't be broken for him."
Her fingers lightly grazed his stomach as she continued.
"We can-"
She looked up at him, her eyes so very old for such a young face. "We can remember them, care about them... but we can't wait for them. And they wouldn't want us to."
He thought of her losses- her parents, Ron, her professors, her classmates... They'd both been torn to pieces.
That didn't mean they couldn't rebuild.
He ran his thumb over her hip as he moved over her once again. "Living isn't... It's not forgetting."
She smiled up at him as she pulled him down.
"It's the best kind of remembering."
-End-
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