Nothing Gold

NEW Author's Note: Yes, I know, totally unexpected after so long, right? I took a long break from the world of writing fanfiction after a veritable witch hunt on the part of a few immature folks, and then I sort of dabbled in other fandoms...but I've been inspired to start up again. I will be re-posting this story with an entirely different name and changing my member name, as well. I'm also going to re-write a bit of it and write a conclusion, too, since my writing has matured since I first published this. So...yes. Be on the look out. And thank you for the lovely reviews (I can't believe I'm still getting them after three years!)

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers inclusive of but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.


Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

--“Nothing Gold Can Stay,” by Robert Frost

“Remus?”

“Yes, Hermione?” He shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable on the stone floor.

“Are we ever going to get out of here?” She arched her back and moved around, stretching the ache out of her muscles.

Remus looked over at her. Hermione had pulled her knees to her chest, and was staring ahead blankly. They were in a dark cellar of sorts, locked and warded with enough magic that even getting in was a feat.

“I think you know the answer, already. Nothing’s for sure.” Hermione’s head drooped in silent acknowledgement, and they sat, wordlessly, as the hours – or were they minutes? – ticked by. Small noises seemed amplified; the splish-splash of drops of water from somewhere became counters for the moments that passed slowly; the occasional thud sounded from e, ae, as well as the frequent creaking of wood.

“Remus?”

“Yes, what now?” Remus was beginning to get irritated, which was quite the opposite of his typically laid-back attitude. He didn’t think it was from the questions – he didn’t mind answering them. It was something else, something in the air that seemed to hang between them, and every breath he took wasn’t quite enough ill ill his lungs. He could hear things whispering in the atmosphere, darting in and out of his brain – they had been there for a long time, but in the stillness of the room, they were inexorable. He was on edge, trying desperately to push the frantic thoughts into the depths of his mind, and, at the same time, wanting more than anything to release them from their prison.

“Do you think that Ron and Harry made it?” This, she asked quietly. He knew that she had wanted to ask that question for awhile now; it was, most certainly, the one thing that bothered her the most. He knew the feeling well – wondering where your loved ones were, hoping that they had somehow survived. Objectively speaking, Remus didn’t think the odds were good for either. Most likely, he thought grimly, they are still alive, but in excruciating pain. He didn’t want to say it to Hermione – somehow, though he knew she was strong, he didn’t think she could handle contemplating the fate of her best friends.

“I believe that they are alive, Hermione.” That should do it.

She was quiet again, then spoke, her voice trembling.

“Will they torture us, too?”

Blast it. Remus sighed inwardly; he should have known better than to try to hide something from Hermione. She was too clever for her own good sometimes – not that it wasn’t usually endearing, but the circumstances negated any such charm.

“Hermione, they won’t –” he stopped, mid-sentence. Don’t lie to her. “They might. Most likely, they will. We’re both members of the Order – well, you’re close to it – and both very close to Harry.” Dumbledore had partnered Harry, Ron, and Hermione with an adult in the Order during the summer, for extra training: Snape, Bill, and himself, respectively.

Hermione only nodded. She already knew all that he told her, and was simply passing time – until someone came for them. She was torn between wanting to get out of their gloomy prison, and praying that no one came to get them.

“I’m not afraid, you know,” she said quietly.

Remus shook his head slightly and looked out into the darkness.

“I know,” he replied. And he did, too. Hermione was always the quiet, strong one – the proverbial mouse that roared, when it came down to necessity.

The restrained silence was growing on Remus, and he wanted to say something, anything to dispel the growing feeling of discomfort.

“Listen, Hermione. We me ree rescued. It’s possible. Don’t sink into hopelessness without reason.” He exhaled slowly, trying to phrase his next words properly. “If you have a chance to escape, take it. And ,i>don’t look back.”

Hermione looked affronted.

“And leave you? Here?” Her incredulity was evident, and her eyebrow quirked in shock.

“Yes, here. Hermione, I’m very serious. Take any opportunity, any chance.” Remus stared her down, watching as an angry blush overtook her features.

“I will most certainly not . . . abandon you,” she spat, now glaring openly. “In the Order, you vow to protect each other, and I intend to uphold it, even if I’m not fully a member.”

Sighing briefly, Remus tilted his head back and closed his eyes in defeat. It wasn’t any use arguing with the girl; she was as stubborn as they came. He could only hope that her notorious logicality would prevail when – if – there came a time for her to escape.

The two sat in silence, and Hermione felt her eyes glaze in and out of focus as she tried to make out the features of the room.

“Maybe we should explore this room. There might be a weak spot somewhere, or something we can use to escape.” Hermione said this casually, hoping that Remus, ever the cautious one, would agree.

He cracked one eye open and looked at her from its corner.

“And step into the multitudes of traps that probably fill the room? Don’t be daft, Hermione. We’re better off taking calculated risks when we can actually see what’s in front of us.” He closed his eyes again, as if the matter was settled. Hermione clearly had other ideas.

“Remus J. Lupin, I will not sit here and do absolutely nothing, when something might be accomplished.” She nearly sprang to her feet, and glared angrily down at him. “We’ve sat here, in silence, simply waiting, and waiting. You’re the daft one, too afraid to look around a bloody room!” With that, she proceeded to disappear into the darkness, her footsteps the only indication of her presence.

Remus took a deep breath, and awkwardly stood up, his muscles protesting from having stayed in the same spot for so long. As far as he was concerned, the safest thing to do was to stay in one area, an area that they were sure was safe. When did you become such a coward, Remus? Was it after James? Lily? Sirius? Shrugging away the unpleasant images that filled his mind, he followed the click-clack of Hermione’s hard-soled shoes to bump directly into her.

“Oof,” she sputtered, nearly tripping over her own feet.

“Sorry,” he said, reaching out to steady her by the shoulders. Hermione twisted around, to face him, and he could just make out the glow of her eyes and shadowed features.

“No harm done,” Hermione replied, then, shrugging free of his grip, continued to pace the length of the room, feeling along the walls. Remus realized that she was going to continue despite any protest he might make, so he joined her, running his hands across the cool stone.

*Click*

The tiny amount of light in the room flickered into a burst of warm, artificial light, causing Remus’ eyes to water at the sudden change.

“Remus, I found a light switch! Those imbecilic Death Eaters must have us someplace Muggle.” As his vision cleared and focused, Remus blinked once and saw Hermione standing by the . . . device, grinning ear-to-ear. She chattered on, gesturing to the wall. “Being Muggle-born does have its advantages, I suppose.”

Remus nodded, then surveyed the room. It was, indeed, a cellar of some sorts, but in the opposite corner from where they had sat, there was a large Persian rug, a round table, a long sofa, and a few chairs of various shapes and sizes scattered around the room. He was filled with a mixture of gladness and embarrassment; it was he who had insisted that they remain sitting on the only cold, hard area of the floor for so long, and all it took was a stubborn attitude and the flick of a switch to prove him a spineless old man.

“I’m sorry Hermione, I shouldn’t have been such a –”

She held up a hand, stopping his self-deprecation.

“Remus, don’t think on it, really. You were just being cautious.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “Besides, now we have a more comfortable place to sit. Hermione plopped herself down onto the sofa, leaning back and exhaling deeply. She patted the space next to her. “Come on, now. Plenty of room.”

He smiled at her light-heartedness, and sat down where she had indicated. In those few moments, it seemed as though all thoughts of what lay ahead had been forgotten. He rested his head against the back of the sofa, and closed his eyes, absorbing as much comfort as he could. Remus glanced over at Hermione, from the corner of one crooked eye. She was leaning forward now, one hand resting on her lap, and the other covering her mouth, her eyes focused straight ahead, glazed over in deep thought. The changes she had gone through since he first saw her, back in her third year, always amazed him – child to teenager, teenager to – well, almost adult. It was the same sort of shock he continually experienced when he saw Harry or Ron. The years had gone by in a blaze of challenges, heartaches, and struggles. Remus allowed his gaze to drift across Hermione’s features; despite her youth, the beginnings of worry lines creased the corners of her eyes, and those eyes were hollow-looking and hardened. They’ve all had to grow up so quickly. And they did; they’re aged and vacant on the inside, and it’s beginning to show on the outside, too. It’s not fair. But then again, nothing ever is . . .

Remus closed his eyes again and relaxed against the soft fabric, allowing his thoughts to wander. An image of Hermione once again appeared in his mind, her eyes focused somewhere in the distance. She was smiling and laughing with a large, silly grin plastered on her face. Remus felt the corners of his lips turn up in a troubled smile. She was always invading his psyche, and every time he saw her, feelings that shouldn’t be were, and thoughts that should be hidden filled his brain.

Hermione, in the meantime, was indeed in deep contemplation. She had faced many difficulties in her life – watching Harry suffer, having to support Ron as well when he couldn’t stand it anymore. She was the strong one – smart, brave Hermione; the girl who had an answer to every problem. Right now, though, she didn’t have any solutions. Harry and Ron were probably dead, or well on their way to death, if Dumbledore hadn’t gotten them to safety. Voldemort had attacked suddenly – arbitrarily, it would seem, since Snape had never mentioned any plans to march into Hogwarts. Of course, all of the available Order members had gone to defend the castle – and were sorely outnumbered, even when the Aurors arrived.

That’s something that worries me – it was a fear founded long ago, and I’ve never been rid of it – Snape’s always been shrouded in mystery, and the fact that he claimed to not know the attacks were coming – Merlin, he attends all of those meetings, how could he not have kn – Hermione was jerked from her thoughts when Remus shifted in his seat, his leg inadvertently brushing up against her own. She felt a warm heat lazily making its way up her leg to various other body parts, and she involuntarily shivered. Not now. Oh please, no. I won’t be able to stand it this time . . .

She shook her head to clear the thoughts that were pressing fervently on her brain, but her current situation only seemed to aggravate their insistence. Remus. She had managed to distract herself thus far, but as the time passed slowly, buried emotions dug themselves from their shallow graves, and covered her in a smothering anxiety. She didn’t think that she could take it anymore; she saw him nearly every day, and passing by him, having to inhale his fresh, wild scent was enough to drive her mad. I have the proverbial crush on my teacher, Hermione thought. Only I haven’t grown out of it. Three years later, and I’m not over it. She had realised, at some point, that in the beginning, it was only a silly crush, and nothing more – but now – now it was something else. Working together changes a lot, she mused, thinking of the spells he had taught her, and remembering their long conversations over pints of butterbeer after Order meetings.

But this was it – their last conversation, her last chance. Anything she said or did wouldn’t matter one bit, because they were both – probably – going to die, anyway. Hermione couldn’t stand it anymore; all of her muscles tightened up and she clenched her teeth. It was eating away at her, slowly breaking up her sanity, and if there was one thing she needed for the ordeal they faced, it was mental stability.

Hermione had been silent for moran aan a few minutes, and it began to worry Remus. He thought that she was receding into herself, and that was never good when mental clarity was the one thing that might get her through what lay ahead. Opening both of his eyes this time, he tilted and turned his head to the side, observing Hermione, who was absentmindedly tapping one foot on the ground. She’s gone mad, already, Remus thought, watching as Hermione flipped her hair behind her shoulders, adjusted her shirt, then crossed her legs and uncrossed them. Finally, she planted both feet firmly on the ground and clutched the edge of the sofa – it looked like she was wound into ll oll of pure tension, ready to explode at any moment. Then, without warning, she spoke, turning her head to catch his observant gaze.

“Remus?”

“Yes, Hermione?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to play this game again.

“I’ve known you for so long, yet I know so little. I only know the outside, Re Bu But what I know, I treasure.” She looked down at her hands and fumbled for the right words, then continued, eyes staring past him. “We’re not going to make it, you know.” Remus opened his mouth to object, but she went on, ignoring his silent protest. “We’re not. You don’t have to pacify me – I’m not a child anymore. I – all of these years, I’ve laughed with you – and cried with you, during the hard times – we all did. And I was happy with that, it was enough. But the last few years, well, I’ve wanted more. I don’t know how or when it happened; I just looked at you one day, and saw that you –” she paused, her voice choking on the last words and her lips twisting up into a melancholy smile – “were everything.”

Remus fels fas face burn with uncharacteristic embarrassment – she was telling him all of the things that he never wanted to bring to the surface, and, at the same time, what he had needed for so long, without ever knowing it. A panicky feeling slowly washed over him, and he fought to avoid being swallowed in its depths.

“Hermione, you’re not thinking clearly. All of this,” he jerked his hand in the air tensely for emphasis, “is just a product of our situation. Don’t tell me things you’ll regret saying later.”

“Bloody hell, Remus!” Hermione’s face was flushed with heat as a sudden wave of anger swept over her. “Why do you keep talking about ‘later’ when you know the truth? That there won’t be a later!” she said angrily, emotions welling up past the point of control as she felt her eyes tear up in . . . she wasn’t sure what – anger at Remus, anger because he wouldn’t accept reality, anger because he wouldn’t understand, anger because he couldn’t see the truth sitting right in front of him. “We’re not going to leave here alive! Why do you insist on throwing delusion after delusion at me? Can’t I handle it? Aren’t I mature enough for you?” Tears began to flow freely down her cheeks as she rubbed at her forehead, then dropped her hands to her lap, clenching them together tightly.

This wasn’t about dying, Remus knew – a fool could see that. Her last words rang in his head as his mind tried to piece them together. He didn’t know what to say; what did one say when they were exposed? It wasn’t supposed to be this way, and he wished desperately that she hadn’t found out his secret. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

“It’s my fault, Hermione. I was just trying to protect you. I guess – I guess that I should have been more truthful. You’re right; we both need to accept the reality of our situation. I’m sorry.” Remus shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, feeling as though Hermione’s eyes were burning through him, seeing everything.

Hermione’s voice was shrill and cut through his skin, and he couldn’t breathe; he didn’t want to hear anything.

“Remus, are you really that blind? Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I love you; I’ve loved you for so long now and I’ve done nothing and nothing and nothing about it! Each time I look you, chills run up my spine and my knees go weak!”

He had to say something; he had to acknowledge it. But he couldn’t.

“Hermione, that’s – that’s just lust, nothing more.”

“Merlin, Remus; just tell me you don’t feel anything for me!” Her voice was desperate; she was looking him full in the face now, eyes pleading for a reaction.

Remus swallowed hard and closed his eyes, then opened them and spoke, his voice wavering slightly.

“You’re raving, Hermione. You’re just a beautiful young woman who’s caught in the middle of a no-win situation.” She was beautiful – beautiful and soft and gentle-looking. Her skin smooth, her eyes deep and brilliant. Her hair flowing and shining with a wondrous vibrance. Her soul –

“Fuck you, Remus!” her eyes were blazing as he dismissed her, and her blood was boiling in her veins. “You don’t even have the bollocks to tell me what you really think!” She was moving closer to him with each word, and then suddenly she was right next to him, her vanilla perfume and seething anger hitting Remus like a freight train. He couldn’t breathe anymore; he could feel her body pressing against his. He was struggling to stay above the surface of something, and he flailed and kicked and tried to keep his head above, but with every movement he sunk further and further beneath the surface.

“Maybe,” she breathed out, the rage in her voice softening, “maybe I can persuade you to speak.”

Remus shivered as Hermione leaned towards him; she caught his gaze for an instant, and he couldn’t stand it; he closed his eyes again. He felt her warm breath on his face, and then her lips met his soundly, and she crushed her mouth to his, pressing his body against the sofa, grinding her hips against his. Remus let himself sink into the kiss, clutching her waist tightly and pulling her body to his.

It ended as suddenly as it had begun; Hermione broke contcontact and sat away from him, still frowning, but the anger in her eyes had dissipated. Remus exhaled slowly, chest still heaving from the swiftness with which it had started and ended.

“Hermione . . .” he began.

“No, Remus – no ‘Hermione, you’re out of your wits’ or ‘Hermione, you’re completely mad.’ All I want is an honest answer. Please,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Remus was drowning – he was trying so hard to keep from sinking under, but it was futile. She was overwhelming him; and he had to give in to it.

“I – I care about you, Hermione,” he began, holding up a hand when she started to protest his apparent neutrality. “I care about you, so I’ve tried to protect you from the desires and wishes of a hungry wolf. But I can’t do it anymore; I really can’t.” He looked away from her eyes for a moment; they were bright with something – tears or emotion, maybe. “You . . . I’ve wanted you for a long time now – more than wanted you; I’ve buried this for so long.”

Hermione smiled softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she listened.

“It’s not only – you’re so young. I’m old enough to be your father, for Merlin’s sake! It’s wrong, not right, not at all. You – you haven’t the faintest idea of what I want from you – and it’s all so – it’s not – oh Hermione, my thoughts condemn me.” He knew that he was rambling, but stopping wasn’t an option; hind wnd was jumping and tripping and gathering itself up again and running with all of the things he had hidden for so long, and it wasn’t about to pause for anyone or anything. “You’re so innocent – intelligent, innocent, beautiful, naïve, tempting – please don’t let me corrupt you; please stop me Hermione, stop me before I say or do something that will destroy us both . . .” he trailed off, fumbling around for the right words. “Do you have any idea what I want from An Any at all? I’m not a teenage boy, Hermione – I’m shameless and I want all of you . . .”

She stretched her arm out, and rested a hand on his knee, waiting until his voice faded to a whisper.

“Remus, I’m not a little girl anymore. I know you see it each time you look at me, because I see my own weariness reflected in Harry’s tired eyes and Ron’s weathered skin. I’ve grown up, faster than I ever thought. I know what you want – and believe me, I want it, too.” A sory try tear drifted down her cheek, her eyes heavy with sadness. “We’ve run out of time, Remus. There’s no time for us, but I’ll take what little I can scavenge from the ruins.”

Remus stopped fighting, ceased his battle with the force consuming him, and let it overtake him. He felt himself descend below the surface, submerged in his emotions and desires.

They leaned towards each other, and looked into each other’s eyes. Hermione was wide-eyed and expectant, and his heart quickened its pace in response. Remus’ hands settled hesitantly on her waist, and hers gently touched his shoulders. He kissed her chastely on the lips, feather-light and barely making contact. They were soft and yielding, and he kissed her again, this time parting her lips with his tongue, and exploring her mouth, the faint taste of her raspberry lip gloss lingering. Hermione responded, raising her hands to mingle with his hair, brushing back the strands that had fallen into his eyes, and settling at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His hands around her waist tightened their grip when she touched his neck, and he tugged her torso closer to him, pressing her body back into the cushions. He was drowning.

The air was still chilly, cold, and damp, but the atmosphere seemed to have shifted drastically. A surge of heat swept through the two as they kissed, little bits of electricity sparking up here and there, nerves awang tng to the newfound warmth. Remus pulled awaom Hom Hermione and looked down at her; her lips were curved into a half-smile.

“So what now?” she asked, biting her lip to keep a rather self-satisfied smirk from creeping across her face.

Remus tried not to chuckle as he moved his hands to the buttons on her shirt, undoing them one-by-one, never taking his eyes from hers. Everything felt lighter now, somehow, with the constant weight on his chest gone, and the whispers in the air finally sated.

“This might be a good place to start.” He undid the last button and Hermione half-sat-up and shrugged out of the white cotton. Remus tossed the shirt to the floor, and ran his hands across her smooth stomach, watching as her muscles tensed underneath his fingers.

“Ohh . . .” Hermione breathed, her skin shivering under the simple touch of his cold hands across her warm stomach.

He moved his hands lower, to the waistband of her skirt, and with a skill that even surprised him, deftly reached behind her to unclip the clasp. Remus slid the skirt down her body, and Hermione automatically arched away from the sofa so he could pull it off of her, and throw it carelessly aside. Hermione felt frenetic, like she wanted to move, do something as he stared down at her.

Remus pulled away then, and tugged his shirt over his body, dropping it to the floor. Hermione reached out to him, and undid his trousers, helping him slide them off and to the floor. Her eyes skimmed over his form, from his defined muscles to his plain cotton boxers, and she was suddenly filled with a longing to feel the simple fabric beneath her fingers. As he leaned over her, settling between her legs, his skin brushing hers, a shiver shot straight through her entire body, descending into a ball of warmth in her pelvis. He bent his head down to hers, and she met his lips in a searing kiss; then he moved away from her mouth, pressing kisses across her neck, hot breaths alternating with his firm lips. Hermione squirmed underneath his movements, wanting him to go somewhere, but she wasn’t sure where.

She found out.

He drifted lower, one hand slipping behind her back to unclasp her bra; he slid it from her body so smoothly that she didn’t remember how or when the black fabric had left her skin. At the same moment, he let his lips drift across her breasts, exhaling through his mouth in cool breaths that left Hermione tingling with anticipation. She threaded her hands through his hair once more, fingers tugging on the strands each time lips met skin.

His lips suddenly found her mouth again, and his hands cupped her breasts, his roughened fingertips brushing over her nipples, which hardened into tiny buds at the contact. Hermione felt warm all over, warm and wet as a liquid heat seemed to pool between her legs and her nerves ignited with a fiery yearning.

“Remus – Remus please – ” She didn’t know what she was asking for, but she wanted it badly, whatever it was, and when his hands tugged at her knickers, pulling them away, she scooted out of them without hesitation.

She touched his chest, then, running her hands across the taut muscles, watching as they tensed beneath her fingers. His skin was smooth, and each muscle was tight with heat. As her hands came up to rest on his shoulders, his caressed her inner thigh, and she gasped, her breath hitching in agonizing anticipation.

“Hermione . . .” Remus trailed off, his hand sneaking between her legs, finding her swollen bundle of nerves and rubbing it slowly, barely touching her skin.

As his hand touched her body, Hermione felt as though bits of flashing light were going off behind her eyes, and her entire being was consumed in flame. Each stroke was too slow; it was never enough; her hips involuntarily bucked upwards, towards his hand. He slipped one finger inside of her, then two, sliding back and forth with a torturous pace. Her breag wag was heavy, deep, and throaty, consumed in the weight of lust. Their lips met once again, and this time it was she who parted his lips, swirling her tongue across his palate.

He moaned into her mouth, and her hands flew from his shoulders to the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down hurriedly.

“Now, Remus,” she heard herself ask in between kisses, though most of her consciousness seemed to be dwelling in some empyrean realm of passion and fervour, and everything she was had been reduced to a melting, writhing shell.

He managed to slip off his boxers and push them off of the sofa, and he pressed her body into the cushions, running one hand across her outside thigh, bringing her leg up to press against his side.

Hermione could feel erecerection pressing against her skin, and she slipped a hand in between their bodies to grasp it, skimming herd acd across its surface and running a finger across the wet tip. Remus groaned and she drew her hand away, bringing her moistened finger to her mouth. His eyes met hers, and she licked the tip, never looking away.

“Hermione – are –” he exhaled, “– are you sure of this?” His voice was husky and low, sendinves ves of electric chills across her spine.

“Yes – yes, Remus. More than anything,” she breathed out, feeling his skin against hers. “But . . . umm . . . I’ve never – you know, gone this far before,” she added, temporarily coming to her senses through the blur of emotions and feelings.

Remus took her hand, and kissed her knuckles gently, looking up at her.

“Relax, love.” Love.

He slowly pushed inside of her and she felt her body tense, but she was too overcome with the new sensation to distinguish between pain and pleasure. He thrust forward sharply, and she startled at the sting that raced through her pelvis, but pushed it aside as he settled into her, filling her body with a driving warmth.

“Are you all right?” Remus managed to choke out, holding himself steady. All of his regrets and hesitations seemed to fall away at her next words. It was a dream; he had drowned and died, and this was Heaven.

“Yes, I’m fine, more than fine – I’m, oh . . . please, keep going,” she said, stumbling over the words as her mind tried to catalogue and file each new feeling that exploded into existence as he began to move inside of her. In the same instant that she felt uncomfortably stretched and the beginnings of pain, there was a delicious feeling of friction and intensity that rose to the surfaceerwherwhelming her mind and body.

“Harder! Oh Merlin, Remus . . . Remus!” she heard herself cry out as his thrusts increased in their intensity and speed.

Remus felt his breath quicken and his body tense, and nerves and feelings and sensations long since forgotten snapped to life, searing heat across his skin and funnelling into each movement. Hermione was more gorgeous to him than ever at that moment: a goddess with radiant skin and bright, passionate eyes.

The world seemed to spin out of control as he thrust one last time, his lower body winding lf ilf into one twisted coil of tension, the cords in his throat standing out when he grit his teeth and closed his eyes tightly, scarcely able to keep his grip on reality.

“Oh, Hermione –” he barely gasped out, growling low in his throat as her muscles began to clench around him. Their eyes met, intense grey to soft brown. Her entire world fell into specks of black and silver stars, and all that she was, her being, body and soul, tightened into a mass of molten glass, then suddenly shattered into a million pieces of ecstasy when his seed spilled into her.

Her body arched and met his one last time before they both fell into the sky, fluttering about the heavens before crashing into the earth like a fireball. Hermione struggled to regain her consciousness and then, in one instant, her body relaxed, melting into the cushions, her breath filling her lungs with cool air.

Remus sank down onto her body, dropping her leg, and exhaling deeply. The two shuffled around on the sofa for a moment before he was able to comfortably spoon her body, arms wrapped around her waist.

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes and listening and feeling the beat of his heart against her back as it slowly returned to its normal pace. He stroked her stomach absentmindedly, running his hand lightly over her skin, slightly misted with sweat.

“Remus? Thank you,” she said, her voice soft, even against the noiseless background.

“What for?” he asked, one hand brushing a soft curl away from her face. He couldn’t understand why she would thank him. “You’ve given me everything.”

She pressed closer to him, snuggling against his heated skin.

“Maybe I did. But you’ve bared your soul to me – you took the risk, and loved. Your love was all I ever wanted.”

They remained in silence together for moments that seemed far too short before Remus gently began to sit up, pulling Hermione with him.

“We really should get dressed again. Someone could come for us at any moment, and it wouldn’t do to be unclothed when they do.”

“I wish I had my wand, for a cleaning spell,” Hermione said crankily, not wanting to move.

Remus muttered some words under his breath, and Hermione felt a whoosh go over her body, leaving a tingling clean behind. Startled, she looked over at Remus, who grinned cheekily.

“Wandless magic – only the basics, but enough.” He stood, and grabbed Hermione by the arms, tugging her to her feet. “Come on now, up you go.”

Grudgingly, she stood up and dressed as Remus did the same. It seemed surreal to be pulling on clothing, waiting for someone to take them to their fate – whatever it might be. They sat back down on the sofa, and Remus put his arm around her, his hand twisting in her curls, wrapping them around his fingers. The air was still heavy with a musky scent, and it hung like a thick cloud over the two. Hermione leaned into his shoulder, and rested her chin on his chest, listening to his heart’s beating.

Suddenly, the door to the upstairs began to pulse and flash; glowing light emanated from it as the wards were broken. Remus pulled Hermione closer to his body, and she looked up at him.

“This is it, my love.”

Hermione shivered at his words, and closed her eyes, trying to fall back into the dream-world she had been in moments ago.

“Remus, I – I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

He leaned down towards her upturned face, and gently touched his lips to her forehead.

“No matter what happens, Hermione, we will always have love – and that is enough.” Hermione sighed and inhaled Remus’ woody, heady scent.

“Do you promise me?” she asked softly.

“With all I am, no matter what,” he replied.

The door flew open, and a hooded figure sauntered regally down the steps. Remus looked up, and held onto Hermione tightly.

“Well, well – what a delightful surprise – a werewolf and a Mudblood.” The figure threw back his hood, and Hermione stiffened under Remus’ arm. “I must say, when I was informed of your presence here, I simply had to visit.” Lucius Malfoy smirked, his lips drawn up into a twisted and fake smile.

“Drop the act, Malfoy,” Remus said, standing up and moving in front of Hermione. She started to get up, but he reached behind himself and pushed her back down.

The faux smile receded, and Lucius sneered openly.

“How charming: the werewolf is protecting his little whore.” His voice was laced in acid, and, as if for emphasis, he raised his head slightly and sniffed the air pointedly.

Remus couldn’t help it; he felt a low growl welling up in his throat.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to call people names?”

Lucius chuckled mirthlessly, and drew his wand from his robes.

“My mother told me that Mudbloods and werewolves are nothing more than a filthy nuisance.” He quirked an eyebrow at the two, his mouth twitching into a diabolic grin. “However, they can be quite entertaining, with the right stimuli. Stupefy!”

As the bolt of light shot from Lucius’ wand, Remus darted forward, but was too late. The spell seized both Remus and Hermione, and their worlds faded to black.

*******************

“Hermione? Wake up, Hermione. It’s me, Harry.”

Hermione opened her eyes and groaned. It felt as though every muscle was stretched to the point of tearing, and her entire body was engulfed in fire. She flipped her head from side to side, trying to clear her blurry vision. Finally, her sight converged and focused on the man leaning over her.

“Harry?” she whispered weakly, staring up into the familiar green eyes.

“Shh . . . I just wanted to see if you were ready to wake up. Madame Pomfrey said I could try.” He sat down next to her on the bed, and his sudden weight seemed to jostle her nerve endings into a sharp frenzy, but she didn’t ask him to move. Once you get to a certain point, she thought, pain is pain, no matter how much you heap on.

Suddenly, all of her thoughts seemed to come back to her in a rush, and a thousand questions and worries filled her mind as reality hit, soothing unconsciousness gone.

“Harry!” she choked out. “Voldemort! What about Ron? Dumbledore? The Order? Is everyone ok?”

Harry’s face visibly fell, and she immediately regretted asking.

“Voldemort’s dead,” he said dully. “Ron’s ok, I suppose. Pretty much the same as you. That’s the good news, I guess. Dumbledore is – that is, he was – I mean, he – he tried to defend too many people . . .” Harry trailed off, and Hermione stiffened with an overwhelming sense of grief. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she tried to suppress them, for Harry’s sake.
And And the Order?” she asked, swallowing hard.

“Oh. Well,” Harry said, blinking, “It’s still intact. We only lost a few – I –well, not only, but . . . we lost Tonks when she was protecting the first years, and Bill – he saved Ginny, but . . . oh Hermione,” he gasped, trying hurriedly to wipe away tears.

Hermione reached out a hand, the effort causing her muscles to tighten in protest, but she managed to pat his hand soothingly.

“Harry, it’s ok. Everything will be fine in the end. You’ll see. This is natural – at least you had the chance to love them.” Hermione stopped and her brow furrowed as she thought about what she had just said. Remus. “Harry, is Remus here? I’d really like to see him, just to make sure he’s all right. You can even wheel my bed over to him,” she said, chuckling at the thought, though her ribs tightened rigidly when she did so.

If it was possible, Harry’s face darkened further, and he closed his eyes, drawing in a heavy breath.

“Harry? What’s wrong? Is Remus still asleep, like I was?” Hermione shut her eyes tightly, trying to close off her brain to the possibilities filtering in, but it was impossible to do as her ever-logical mind clicked, whirled, and spat out answers.

“Hermione – Remus – we found him with you, when we raided the Death Eater hideout. He’s not – he’s not dead. But he –he won’t respond to anyone. We all tried, but he just stares straiaheaahead.” Harry’s voice shook. Remus was the last tie he had to his father, and he couldn’t wipe the image of the man, eyes glazed over and hollow-looking, from his mind.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to remember, but she couldn’t – the only recollection she had of what had occurred after Lucius had petrified them were the stabbing pains shooting through her body whenever she tried to move. Tears filled her eyes, and they dripped a hot trail down her cheeks.

“Oh Merlin – Harry, I can’t remember anything.” Despite her agony, Hermione tried to sit up, to look around the ward for Remus, but she fell back against the sheets in defeat when her muscles wouldn’t respond.

Harry had jumped up, and he tucked the sheets in around Hermione, rubbing her hand gently.

“Hermione, don’t move. You’re still too weak.”

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Harry!” she spat, sinking back into the mattress. “I want to see him. Now.”

Gritting his teeth, Harry reluctantly agreed, and pushed the bed into a reclining position before tugging open the curtain next to her. Hermione gave him an incredulous look.

“And that was hard?” she said, rolling her eyes, pushing away the tight feeling in her chest. She was afraid to look, but somehow she managed, and turned her head to the side.

Remus was lying in bed, much the same as she was, but his eyes were dull and lifeless, and he made no movement aside from the rise and fall of his chest. Hermione’s eyes filled with new tears, and Harry sat down again, looking down at her and brushing away a limp curl from her face.

“Oh, Hermione. Just let it out. We’re all upset over this – he was – he was a real hero.”

“Harry, you don’t understand,” she said, through her tears. “We – he and I – just when I finally found him, he left me!”

Harry’s face remained impassive until what she was saying registered.

“You – he and you?” he sputtered, voice filled with surprise. “I never would have thought –” he suddenly paused, and then his eyes lit up with even more shock as the implications slowly settled into his brain. “Hermione! Merlin! You’re sixteen; he’s old enough to be your father! I – hell, he’s – oh I feel awful saying this with him there,” he said, gesturing to Remus’ bed, “but honestly, are you mad? He’s your teacher! Your . . . your mentor; we’ve known him since we were thirteen and I just don’t – ”

He was interrupted by Madame Pomfrey, who, upon noticing that Hermione was awake, scurried over to the bed.

“Hermione, it’s wonderful to see you awake. Now let me check your vitals,” she said, pulling out her wand. “Harry, Ron was asking for you, by the way.”

Harry nodded at Hermione sadly, and half-waved before ducking out of the curtained area and out of sight.

Thankfully, Madame Pomfrey left as quickly as she had arrived, and, in her haste, conveniently neglected to close the curtain between her and Remus. Hermione looked over at his unmoving form, and her eyes watered again. At least he’s here. At least he’s not dead. At least there’s hope. Hope, hope, hope, she mentally chanted, trying to draw up a mantra that might prevent her from falling into total misery. Somehow, she knew they would make it, eventually. Oh Remus, she thought. You promised me. But we have far to go, so long before we sleep . . .

A/N: The title comes from Robert Frost’s poem “Nothing Gold Can Stay” (duh). Very, very vague reference to another Frost poem, “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening” in the last line of the story – “miles to go before I sleep” (ln 15), as well as the references to “promises” – “promises to keep” (ln 14). A line from “Who Wants to Live Forever,” by Queen, pops up when Hermione’s assuaging Remus’ fears about starting something. Amazing song, by the way. Thanks go out to Sing, who did a fantastic job beta-reading, as well as pointing me in the right direction more than once. Goodness knows how bad my purple prose and sparks would get out of hand without her. Look for more of this, it’s a WIP. And thank you for reading. :)