Comfort Me

“Morning Mione” a lean Harry Potter reading the Daily Prophet scathingly in the Griffindor common room, murmured without looking up. Over the years they had fallen into a routine after late nights, Harry would make incredibly strong coffee and Hermione would drink as much as humanly possible until she could manage coherent answers to his morning questioning and morning lessons.



She slunk over to where he was sitting and slouched into her seat until her head was resting on the table. “Mmmph” was her response. Harry turned the page “How was Remus last night?”



Hermione immediately sat bolt upright with horror but Harry was oblivious to her terror. “Went over there this morning to pick up my old broom as this new one bloody malfunctions at the first damn sign of a snitch”. Hermione tried to pull together a coherent response “And why does that affect me?” Harry continued reading his paper “Saw your tiara on the table. Remus said you stayed the night” Her jaw dropped, “He said WHAT?” she managed to splutter out.



Harry finally glanced up, “Yeah he explained your parents were away, you were upset and needed somewhere to crash for a bit”. Hermione tentatively gulped a breath of air as she realised she had been forgetting to breathe. “Nothing happened” she stated. Harry looked at her peculiarly, “Course it didn’t, its Remus isn’t it.” He took her hands in his “But Mione, you really should stop running away from Ron, he doesn’t mean to hurt you he loves you! You guys are meant to be together aren’t you?”



Hermione sat in stunned silence from what appeared to be a narrow escape. Harry sighed taking her silence as anger instead of relief. “Oh Mione just promise you’ll talk to him. For me?” She pulled herself together enough to give him a shaky smile. “Sure Harry” Harry beamed at her as he gathered his things. “Right well I’ll go find the old boy and meet you in Potions”. Hermione sat still frozen looking at him. “Oh and Mione, before I forget I’d said we’d all go to Remus’ place on Friday night for tea. He said he had news” With that he slipped out the door. Hermione made an incoherent sound and placed her head back on the table.



Ron was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Hermione would normally be fuming at him by now but guilt seeped into her consciousness when all she could think when she looked at him was “Remus Lupin can satisfy me in ways you couldn’t even dream of.” Not a good thought.



“Mione where have you been?” Ron sounded irritated and frankly incredibly annoyed at her. Un-bloody-believable! “I felt like I needed a brief respite Ronald, what concern is it of yours?” She continued to walk towards Potions but Ron’s long legs easily caught up with her. “You’re my bloody girlfriend course it’s my concern!” How could he be so ignorant? Hermione stopped immediately. “And was I your girlfriend when you were fucking Lavender Brown?” Ron looked horrified “Hermione language!”



How typical - Ron Weasley was more distressed at her language than her knowledge of his cheating. “You know it’s you I want. I was drunk, there was firewhiskey.” He shrugged and an expression of not comprehending her hurt showed on his face. Hermione faltered. “Mione, you know I love you babe!” Babe? God she had to stop Harry showing him muggle television.



She looked at him carefully; Ronald really did care for her. He was simply an ignorant teenage male. She certainly couldn’t find better available to her, pushing all thoughts of Remus from her mind. He did love her in his own way. His family loved her. They were meant to be together. Weren’t they?



“Really I was dumb, I won’t do it again! But we’re alright aren’t we?” He looked thoroughly confused as he placed his arm roughly round her waist. This was her life and it was time she accepted it. Yesterday seemed more and more like a dream every second. Reality, for want of a better word, bites.



“Yes Ron. We’re alright” she murmured. Ron beamed. “Great! Harry went straight to Potions, I’m bloody starving hope he got breakfast”. Hermione sighed and carried on to lessons.



The days went slowly, and Hermione alternated between dread and longing for Friday evening. When it finally came around she had come to the conclusion the best plan of action was to feign sickness. Or death. Yes, faking her own death was sensible.



“Mione, we’re leaving for Remus’ dinner. You ready?” She could hear Harry’s voice from the common room. Oh damn it, who was she kidding of course she was going to go. She grabbed a pair of tight fitting jeans, a good bra, a green vest top and her matching flip flops, it may be winter but she was longing for summer she thought, and tied her hair up loosely with an elastic band round her wrist.



Hermione contemplated make up but she was running late and the making an effort look was certainly not appropriate so she decided to brave the world without. She grabbed her bag as she rushed out the room, stopping to grab one of the wild daises in her vase and tucked it into her hair.



What on earth was she doing and where was the Hermione who had no qualms about seducing her life long forbidden crush?



Harry and Ron stood at the fireplace with their hands in their pockets completely oblivious to Hermione’s jittering nerves. When they arrived Harry and Ron were already in a furious debate (well perhaps argument was a more sensible description) over some aspect of Quiditch and Hermione couldn’t and wasn’t attempting to follow. Why wouldn’t her heart stop racing?



She could smell the cooking drifting from the kitchen and she could hear the soft padding of Remus’ feet against the granite floor. She hovered by the door and silently watched him as he carefully measured quantities into whatever he was making with precision and care, his hands caressing the ingredients, his hair curling at the back of his neck from the heat of the room.

“Will you pass me the pepper Hermione?” he queried without turning around. Hermione silently cursed his damn senses and she reluctantly grabbed the pepper off the table and passed it to him. “How is school? Still shaming those Slytherins with your grades I hope?” Remus continued cooking still avoiding looking up.



Hermione stood mute, an ocean of silence between them as she simply watched his hands as he cooked. She ignored him completely then found her resolve. “What’s the news Remus? What do you want to tell Harry?” Remus once again remained silent.



“How could you Remus! You promised!” Hermione exclaimed as she desperately grabbed his arm. He flinched as if burned. A look of realization dawned upon his features and he preceded to gentle stroke her arm with his. “No Mione, of course it’s not . . .that. Do you think that little of me?” He sounded genuinely hurt.



Hermione snatched her arm back with mortification. “I. . .then what is it?” she said finally meeting his gaze, worry and embarrassment consuming her. Remus lent back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I wanted to tell the three of you together but I suppose to owe it to you Hermione to tell you first”



Suddenly all of Hermione’s personal fears disappeared and were replaced with a wave of nausea. “Remus you’re ok aren’t you? Tell me your ok, please!” Her words stumbled out without control.



Remus looked at her with such compassion in his eyes, “Hermione I’m fine honestly. The thing is . . .”



“You’re scaring me Remus, just spit it out”



Remus uncrossed his arms and took a deep breath.



“Dumbledore has asked me to re-take the DADA position. Starting immediately.”