Responses

Responses

She loves the responses she can get out of him. The increased beating of his heart from being in her mere presence. The gasp at a touch. The moan from a single kiss. The laboured breathing as their bodies wrap around one another.

She has never felt as alive as when she is in his arms. Part of her wants to scream it from the rooftops; let the world know they are together and in love. The other part of her knows that it's impossible - and for good reason. And a tiny part of her even delights in their secret, making it all the more special and sacred.

She's not ashamed of them, of him, of the love they have for each other. Though sometimes she wonders if he is ashamed of her. With a pang of guilt, she instantly regrets such a thought. He isn't ashamed of her. They both have their reasons for keeping their relationship secret and shame certainly isn't one of them.

When he whispers her name, like a dying prayer, she feels elated. But later, in the silence of his room, she wonders what other names he has whispered into the dark. She isn't an idiot. She knows she isn't his first kiss, first lover, first love. And she feels a stab of jealousy when she thinks of all the other women he must have been with. But then, as if reading her thoughts, he pulls her close, kisses her temple and murmurs, "I love you."

And she loves him back. So much. As she lightly traces his scars, she realises she would do anything for him. She'd die for him.

She quickly sits, almost startled by her own thoughts. Dying for someone she loves isn't a foreign concept. She knows she would die to protect her best friend. But this is different. Dying to save Harry is, in a way, dying to protect the entire wizarding world, as their world is as good as over without him. But to die for sheer, pure love, with no higher purpose other than saving the one you love ... that was something else entirely.

She carefully extracts herself from his arms and dresses silently in the semi-darkness of his room. She sits by the window, resting her chin on her knees, dividing her attention between the man in the bed and the moon and stars outside. And as she sits in quiet contemplation, tears start falling down her cheek.

She doesn't know why she is crying. She isn't unhappy. On the contrary, she is maddeningly in love with the sweetest and smartest man she knows. But the tears continue to fall unabated.

She silently watches the man asleep in the too small bed, a smile on her face and tears on her cheeks. And then, as if he could sense her, he begins to stir, the sheets twisting around his hips. Even with his eyes closed, he reaches out for her. When he feels nothing but empty bed, he opens his eyes.

"Hermione?" he says softly, his voice thick with sleep. He rolls over and flicks on a lamp, then quickly spies her on the nearby chair.

"Hey," she says, smiling brightly, surreptitiously brushing away her tears.

He gets up, wrapping the sheet around his waist, and goes and kneels before her.

"What's wrong?" he asks with genuine concern, running his hand through her hair.

"Nothing. I'm fine," she replies, leaning into his hand and briefly closing her eyes. When she reopens them, he is still looking at her, concern screaming from his features. "I was just thinking about how much I love you."

"And this makes you cry?" he asks in confusion.

She shakes her head, then leans forward and kisses him. "I guess that's what happens when you are crazy, head over heels in love with the best man you know," she says with a lopsided, quivering smile.

He grins in return, leaning up and kissing her lips, lingering slightly.

"I should get back to my room," she whispers, tracing her fingers along his lips.

He shakes his head. "Come back to bed, sweetie," he says, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet.

"Remus-"

"Hermione, stay," he says hoarsely. He kisses her again, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close to him. Their kiss deepens as she wraps her arms around his neck. She becomes lost in his embrace, trailing her hand down his bare chest and resting it on his rapidly beating heart.

"Stay," he repeats, trailing kisses along her cheek. "If someone sees you ..." he kisses his way down her neck, "... leave in the morning ..." he kisses down her bare arm, "... just tell them ..." he lifts her t-shirt up a bit, "... we stayed up all night ..." he presses his mouth to her velvet stomach, "... talking."

She smiles, massaging her hands through his hair, lost in the delicious sensations he is creating. She pulls on his shaggy locks, just hard enough to convey her message. He immediately stands and captures her mouth with his own.

They move as one over to the bed, arms wrapped tightly around one another, passion creating an air of electricity around them.

As they kiss, Remus moans in delight. Hermione smiles against his lips.

She loves the responses she can get out of him.