After the Moon

After the Moon

*

Hermione

***

Remus groaned when he woke up. He hurt.

...Okay, so he more likely ached, but the little effort of voicing that feeling brought on the desired result, proving that he was not alone. Instantly a small, cool hand was on his forehead, and a worried voice asked whether he was okay.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he mumbled. "A bit exhausted, yes, but fine."

"Are you absolutely sure?" asked Hermione, frowning slightly. "You certainly don't look fine." Her warm brown eyes were examining the werewolf closely.

"Yes, Hermione, love, I am fine," Remus replied with a slight sigh. He did enjoy her attention and company, after the full moon and otherwise, but sometimes she could be a real mother hen. She worried too much, even more so than Molly Weasley, and that was saying something. Sure, Remus had many times had a quiet chuckle to himself, watching the two witches agonizing some poor victim with their constant care, but he certainly didn't enjoy their overdone concern for him. They simply didn't know when to stop, Hermione even less than Molly.

When Remus had talked about it with the others, they'd all said that Molly was just as bad as Hermione, worse, even. The werewolf himself, however, had always thought the younger witch much worse. Maybe it was just a downside of having her for a fiancée. Most probably it was just that.

"Remie? Are you awake?" Hermione's voice startled him from his thoughts.

"Of course I am," he replied grumpily. "My eyes are open, can't you see that?"

"Well, even if you are awake, you most certainly weren't present in mind just a moment ago," replied the young witch, frowning in slight worry. "What's wrong with you, love?"

"Don't worry, Hermione," he sighed. "There's nothing more wrong with me than the fact that it was full moon last night. I was just deep in my thoughts a moment ago, that's all."

"Don't think I don't know you, Remus Lupin. You would claim to be perfectly fine even if you had a wand sticking out of your head."

Despite his tiredness, Remus actually laughed aloud. He regretted this almost instantly, however, as he was given a stern glance.

"I think it'd be better for you to sleep," said Hermione then, petting his hair affectionately. Remus had to fight hard the urge to shake her hand away. He was not a lap dog, for Merlin's sake! However, he restrained himself, knowing that the contact was important to Hermione.

She did, however, notice his uncomfortableness. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" she asked worriedly, removing her hand immediately.

"No, you aren't, Hermione," he replied with a sigh. "We're mated, for Merlin's sake. There's no way a simple touch from you might make me uncomfortable."

"We are?" asked she, sounding surprised. "But I thought --"

"That the bond would require some kind of a binding ritual to be completed?" guessed Remus, not caring that he was interrupting her rather rudely. "Well, it is not so. We are indeed mated."

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione still. "But in a book I read they said --"

Now Remus sighed even more deeply than before. He did love Hermione with all his heart, but that couldn't make him close his eyes from the fact that even she had her flaws. And annoying flaws those were. Her mother hen attitude to him was one of those -- Circe, he was twenty years her senior, and still she sometimes treated him like a child! And a very stubborn child, at that -- but even worse, if possible, was the fact that she was absolutely dependant on anything any book said about anything. Tonks and Luna Lovegood had even planned to write a book about all kinds of mythical creatures, accompanied by additions from both their very lively imaginations, and then see if Hermione would believe a word of it. Remus, personally, had no doubt that she would believe the whole book. Books were something almost sacred to her; none of them could ever be wrong.

Well, it was well about the time for her to face the reality. "Hermione," he said as calmly as he could manage, "the writers of that book are hardly werewolves. I am, however. And I can tell you from first-hand experience that no ritual is needed. All that is required is a certain state of maturity from me, and the fact that we are together.

"But the book said..." she started with a hopeless expression.

"Hermione, there are other things to the life but books, as impossible as it may see to you," Remus said with a deep sigh. "Listen, Cloud, I love you dearly and in more ways than one, but if you don't calm down a bit, I'll have somebody throw you out. As wonderful as it is to have you here with me, you are giving me a headache."

Hermione flushed slightly at his words. "I didn't mean to disturb you," she said with a very small voice. "I just wanted to help."

"Look, Cloudie, it's okay," sighed Remus, again using the name they'd given to the young witch once she'd managed to change into her Animagus form, which was a snowy owl. "I'm not mad at you, I know you're only trying to help. But I really do not need any extra noise right now." Then, with an as encouraging smile as he could manage, he added, "Now, come here and give me a hug."

And truly, she did lean over his bed, and then gave him a careful hug -- careful so as not to hurt his aching muscles. Then, however, she straightened her back and gave him a stern glance. "Now, I'll prepare you a warm drink, and then you'll sleep," she said with her best 'don't-you-dare-to-mess-with-me' tone Remus had learnt to obey, if he knew what was best for him.

"Fine," he sighed, knowing that he could not argue with her and win, not in this situation. So, he lay calmly on his place while Hermione went out of the room for a moment. Some time later she returned, a steaming goblet in her hands.

"Now, drink this," she ordered. Remus tried to take the goblet. To his great surprise, she in fact allowed him to do that. However, seemingly she didn't trust him to hold the goblet steadily enough all by himself, since she immediately covered his hands with hers, making sure he didn't drop it. Even though the werewolf frowned at this, he was secretly grateful. He didn't really trust his hands to be steady enough right now, either.

"What is this?" he asked suspiciously. It looked like tea, and smelled of tea, too, but you never knew, not nowadays. Seeing exactly how much Hermione's mother hen attitude irritated Remus, Snape had out of pure spite taken it upon himself to grant her endless supplies of healing potions and sleeping draughts carefully modified to fit especially a werewolf metabolism.

"It's just tea," sighed Hermione. "With some painkilling herbs added in, but no sleeping draughts. I'm not going to drug you."

"This time, no," muttered Remus. "Some other time, yes." He did drink the tea, however, and then allowed Hermione to take the goblet away.

After drinking the tea he managed to fight against his exhaustion for quite some time. In the end, however, sleep won him.

Hermione watched quietly as Remus slowly closed his eyes and relaxed. Only when she was absolutely sure that he was asleep did she lean forward to wipe a stray lock of silvery white hair from his face with extreme gentleness.

She still remembered what he had looked like when she'd seen him for the first time. He'd been thin and pale, his honey hair striped with prematurely grey locks, and he'd looked like the slightest breeze might knock him over. Now he was still pale, but looked strong and even muscular in a wiry way that fit well his slender, light form. She knew from first-hand experience just how strong those arms were despite their lean look. A nasty curse he had almost died of had somehow sped up the greying of his hair, so that he now had completely white hair instead of the previous honey-greyish strands, bringing out his delicate features.

Poppy had calmed her by telling that this did not mean he would otherwise age or die any sooner. However, it always managed to remind her of just how much pain he had endured in his life, as well as make her want to stand in her lover's protection.

Those thoughts were of course irrational. Remus was a powerful wizard, and more than capable of taking care of himself, and of her at the side, if need be. Knowing this, she resorted to just care for him after every full moon, helping him recover from the pain induced by the one enemy nobody could protect him from -- his own body, his own curse.

She should be almost grateful for that curse. Grateful, since it had in a way brought them together -- the old, lonely werewolf, and the young, yet lonely witch. She hadn't realized just how strong her feelings for him were until those long, cold, lonely nights she'd spent sitting on his bed side, all the time fearing that the next time she checked if he was still breathing he indeed would not be. Only then had she realized that Remus was more than a former professor, or a trusted mentor; she'd realized that he was more than just a friend and a confidant. That she loved him, loved him not only like a friend loves another but also like a lover, and that if he should die, she would be glad to follow him.

Fortunately, he hadn't died. He'd recovered, retaining no marks of the curse other than his nowadays white hair, and Hermione had been relieved. One night, then, in the middle of one of their usual deep, long conversations, she had told him about her feelings.

At first, he had been reluctant to response in any way. After some pressuring, however -- she could be stubborn if she had her mind set on something, that she was first to admit -- he'd finally said that he indeed had feelings for her, feelings deeper than those he had for his other friends. But he'd also told her that it couldn't be, that there were too many things between them, too many years, curses, and scars, both physical and mental.

Hermione, of course, would have none of that. She'd known that what he said was true in a way -- he was twenty years, one whole war, and years of loneliness older than she, he was a werewolf and she a full human, he was covered with scars of battles and transformations, her skin pure and flawless. However, she hadn't cared about those. She'd simply said that she loved him and would not live without him, so if he didn't want her to do anything rash -- she'd put an extra emphasis on that word -- he'd better at least give it a try.

So, he had given it a try, and had soon been just as eager about continuing it as Hermione herself. At first, it had been their little "secret" -- friendly conversations and light interaction in public, careful touches and gentle kisses in private. And as a secret it had remained -- until one night, Nymphadora Tonks had walked in on them kissing, and had immediately spilled the beans to anybody who would listen.

That had been a hell to explain. At last, however, their friends had managed to get over the facts that Remus was twenty years her senior, a werewolf, and her former professor, and accepted to consider things sensibly. After making sure that she knew what she was doing, Arthur Weasley, Harry, Ron, and even Kingsley had all cornered Remus and made sure that he knew that if he ever hurt her, they would kill him, their friend or not. It had been pleasant to notice that she was cared about, of course, but it'd also been horrible to see how little they trusted Remus in the end. They did indeed think that he would deliberately hurt her, or use her on his advantage! Just how thick were they?

Anyway, they'd gone on. One night, when nobody else had been in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, they'd dared to take their relationship past kisses and cuddles. Their first lovemaking had been wonderful, so gentle and loving, and so -- so right. After it, she'd felt better than ever in her life.

So, the War went on raging, the Order went on fighting, and Remus and Hermione went on loving. And one day, one wonderful, beautiful day, when Harry had finally defeated the Dark Lord and they were all free to live as they pleased, Remus had asked whether she would marry him.

For a moment, she'd been too stunned to say anything. Then she'd squealed an enthusiastic, "Yes!" and hugged him so tightly he'd only barely avoided choking.

Casting an admiring glance down at the ring in her left hand, she smiled gently. When the summer finally came, she would become Mrs. Lupin. The thought in itself was mind-numbing. She loved Remus so much, and soon she'd have him all to herself!

Of course, it had been a true shock to her parents. For safety reasons she'd been able to send them only a short message a few times a year, telling basically only that she was indeed alive. And then their twenty-year-old daughter had dropped in to the house, dragging along a forty-year-old man whom she called her fiancé! That'd had her mother in an absolute fit, and her father had, after at least two hours of talking, finally calmed down to settle on just the traditional "Hurt her and I'll hunt you down and kill you, a wizard or not".

It had all turned out well in the end, however. After noticing that Remus was a perfect gentleman, her mother had agreed to hear them out. They were a bit wary of the werewolf notion, of course -- being both Muggles, they could not know more than mere myths -- but after even more talking, they'd finally accepted their son-in-law-to-be.

Just then, Remus stirred a bit. She hastily leant forward to place a soothing hand on his arm, hoping to calm him down. She knew that Remus thought her a mother hen -- he'd even told her so in more than one occasion -- but she was genuinely worried about him, they all were. Even with all his War injuries had now been healed, even though he was stronger than ever before, even then, the full moons were hard on him. They would always be; there was no way he could get used to them.

No, Remus was not weak, anything else. There was hidden strength in him, strength he only let out when absolutely necessary. Strength that he masked with his quiet voice, gentle smiles, and tired eyes. Anybody looking at him and not knowing better would only see a tired, sickly man, greying before his time. They would not see one of the ten most powerful wizards in the world, even if that was just what Remus was. They would not see a strong, yet gentle man, who out of a cruel game of the fate had to face the most horrifying curse in existence every single month.

But Remus would face the moon. He would face it every month, and every month, he would win.

And as long as he had to face the moon, she was going to stand by him.