The storm moved in towards the tiny cottage set in the middle of a forest. The sole occupant was standing in the doorway, watching the clouds begin to obscure the first quarter moon. He wondered if she would come tonight.
It was always worse when it stormed.
Sighing, he turned and entered his more than humble abode, shutting the door behind him. Lighting a few candles around the room, he settled down on the sofa and watched the fire, merrily crackling away, every once in a while shooting off sparks as the wind shot down the chimney. As he stared, he thought, thought about the war that had ended nearly five years before, thought about all he had lost - and gained. It pained him still, to this day, to think very heavily. The war had cost many people's lives, whether they were currently alive or dead. The same damned war that had allowed him to live freely and work at a job he loved had also cost him his life. He had lost everything, his heart, his soul, and for a brief time, his sanity.
Until she confronted him, still obviously bleeding on the inside, and made him see that he wasn't alone - he still had her. She had saved him from taking his own life, and he swore that he would do the same for her.
He sighed. The memories of what - who - they had lost were always worse when it stormed.
That last, desperate battle against Voldemort had taken place under a storm. Five people, close enough to be relatives, had died in a matter of minutes, but two hearts still beat painfully when it was all over. He had lost the rest of his family - she had lost everything.
Ron Weasley. Sirius Black. Harry Potter. The names of the dead were read and remembered every year, but for himself and Hermione Granger, the dead were with them year round. He had caught himself enough times looking longingly at shaggy black dogs, hoping against hope to catch a familiar scent. But he knew logically that Padfoot was gone.
Coming back to himself, he heard the rain splatter against the roof, the wind howling around the cottage, shaking the trees with its force, the rumble of thunder as it chased lightning across the sky, and on the tail end of the thunder, a light knock. Breathing deeply, he caught her scent over the smell of rain-soaked earth. She never knocked loudly, just a soft rap of her knuckles against the wood. She told him once that she did it so it wouldn't aggravate his ultra-sensitive hearing.
He rose from the sofa and opened the door to find her standing on his doorstep, shivering as the wind and rain lashed at her. He stepped back, silently inviting her into his home.
She followed him in, her tears mixing with the rain on her face. "It hurts, Remus. It hurts so badly tonight," she whimpered as her arms came around to hug herself.
He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her still too-thin body, silently telling her that he understood and shared her pain.
"I don't want to forget them, but sometimes, I just want the pain to stop."
"I know Hermione, I know."
Her brown eyes were wide and bright. "I want to forget tonight. I just want to feel happy and alive again. Help me do that, Remus. Please."
Her desperation almost did him in, but it was the ill-disguised lust in her voice that he could not say no to. This wasn't the first time she had come to him like this, and he knew that it wouldn't be the last. So he let go of the memories, letting the feel of the woman pressed against him consume his thoughts.
He woke suddenly, he always did. He breathed deeply, categorizing the scents in his bedroom. It literally smelled of sweat, sex, and Hermione. Running his hand down the length of her naked body, he felt more at peace than he had the night before. More complete. When she woke, he would convince her to stay. It wasn't love - not the soul-deep love they felt for their missing pack, nothing on Earth could ever replace that - but it was completeness that she would stay for.
Alone, they were shattered, broken so badly nothing could ever hope to piece them together again, but together, the cracks and missing pieces weren't so visible.
-fini
