Harry Potter 1. Chapter One: The Year After

Time Won't Let Me Go

_By Sirius Lemon_

**(Author's note: I simply love the idea of Remus and Hermione, so I decided to write a fic about them…even though I'm already in the middle a writing another one! Lol. Anyways this story and its title are based on the song "Time Won't Let Me Go" by The Bravery, one of my favorite bands. I hope you enjoy it and please feel free to comment, I would love to hear what you think, good or bad!)**

Chapter One: The Year After

"_Whenever I look back  
On the best days of my life  
I think I saw them all on T.V.  
I am so homesick now for  
Someone that I never knew  
I am so homesick now for  
Someplace I will never be" – Time Won't Let Me Go_

At eighteen Hermione Granger had seen more then her share of death, and suffered more losses then it is expected for one so young to go through. It was over, Harry had survived, and he had made it, Hermione and Ron right by his side till the very end. Still she had nightmares, awful vivid dreams of the night that Voldemort was finally, once in for all destroyed, never to take another life again, never to harm an innocent person. But in her dreams he was still alive, walking towards them menacingly, his army of Death Easters clad in masks of silver and capes of the darkest black following behind him with their wands drawn, shouting curses at them with cold calculation. It had been one of the most horrifying and defining moments of Hermione's life. In the days building up the final battle it seemed unreal, the world had passed by her with a dreamy quality to it. She could feel it in her bones though, everyone in the order could, anyone anywhere could feel the coldness that descended upon their world that day, it was nothing like she had ever felt before.

The day it happened they were at Hogwarts, those in the order rushed about putting charms and spells about the castle, hoping to protect it from being invaded, so that they could use it as a safe haven for those who would need it. And they all would need it. It wasn't that on that day they believed they could escape death; they were merely trying to delay it as long as possible. Wizarding families from all over the country had come to Hogwarts. Some for protection, some to fight. Some to ensure that their children would be safe as they possibly could while they stood on the for-front behind the order, ready to die for the freedom and safety for others. Those who were going to fight said their goodbye's where there was no shortage of tears and angst, goodbye's are never easy, goodbye's when you surely know the outcome to be bad are worse. For those who were to fight it was not a sad day, but for those who were destined from the beginning to be left behind it was as if the moon itself had fallen out of the sky that day.

In her dreams Hermione could relive the twister of emotions that raged inside her that day, fear, love, hate, anger, pumping through her veins as adrenaline rushed though her body as they waited. They were not to be disappointed. She, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Luna, Neville, and the other members of the now defunct Dumbledor's Army stood in a line side by side, their wands at the ready. In front of them every known member of the Order stood just as they did in a straight-line, behind them stood others, those who came to fight at the last minute, those who decided to take a stand and those who refused to have their fate decided without their consent. In the land of nightmares a chill had entered the air, just like as it had that day. The sky became a gray abbess of swirling clouds, the wind began to kick up, and then they saw him. He appeared in a cloud of spinning black smoke his army of Death Eaters behind him. Above them dementors began the appear out of no where, their long black cloth covered bodies floating down to the earth menacingly…With a blood curling scream Hermione awoke in a sweat. Her eyes wide open she took in the room about here, though she could barley see anything it was still dark outside that much she could tell. Breathing heavily she rubbed her face in her hands. _It's okay Hermione, you're safe, it's over. _She whispered to herself, just has she had every night for the past year when, like clock work; she awoke from the same nightmare night after night. It was starting to become more than a little draining on her nerves.

With a slow sigh she closed her eyes and laid back down on her bed, wiggling under the covers hoping to find the sweet spot in her bed again. Pulling the covers up and tucking them under her chin she fell back into the land of sleep after much hesitation, this time though she would be spared from revisiting the nightmare that was once reality, it seemed the fates had decided that one nightmare a night was plenty, thank you very much.

Set high in the Scottish Highlands, sat a cozy two-story cottage made entirely out of gray stone. Its windows were large and the wooden framing of them freshly painted a crisp white. That house certainly had some oddities to it, for one thing it was built in the middle of nowhere, set miles away from town, for another instead of a normal thatched or shingled roof it instead had a mossy green sod roof that sprouted delicate baby pink and yellow flowers during the Spring time. And for another many children in the village believed the charming little cottage sitting high on a clearing in the hills to be inhabited by a werewolf. One a month, when the moon shown high in the inky black sky, howls could be heard from the small cottage. Many parents in the village below the hills laughed at this belief expressed from their earnest children as mere nonsense. It was common knowledge that a middle-aged man of no certain description lived in the lovely well taken care of cottage. Though few had seen him, once and a while he could be spotted walking down the small stone path that ran from the front of his gray stone gate that surrounded an acre of the land about his house, to the bottom of the hill. Tall green rushes grew up the on side of the hill, spotted with wildflowers, making it impossible to see the neat little path the lead directly to the stone fence's little white gate, but they knew it to be there. For in the winter, when the grass was cleared away and the land void of life, it was easy to see the light colored path that the unknown man had laid upon the mossy earth.

It was also known that the man owned a large Labrador, though his name as well as the man's was mystery to any of the villagers. The parents reasoned away their children's fear of an imagined werewolf away by telling them that the howling they heard simply belonged to the dog. Though the children still remained convinced it was not the dog, no these cries they heard, the howling was not that of a dog, and not that of the wolves that inhabited the hills of Scotland, it was of something else entirely.

One November night a mighty storm raged over the hills of Scotland, the wind howled and tossed the limbs of the trees with a great force, pulling and whipping them in every direction. Rain fell from the sky and made loud pinging noises against the windows of the sleeping villagers. This night, as dark clouds swirled about the sky and drenched the small town, it was impossible to tell that high above where the clouds sat was a brilliantly light full moon. Tonight the cries from the small cottage were not heard, and if you were brave enough to dare make your way out into the storm and wonder up the steep hillside and onto the path that led to the two story cottage and peak inside one of the windows you would see nothing but a dog and a wolf like creature curled upon a deep cranberry colored rug in front of the hearth were a cheery fire glowed casting shadows on the walls.


	2. Chapter Two: The Boy Who Lost His Brows

**(Authors note: I refuse point blank to except Sirius our Remus's death. OR the getting together of one Remus Lupin and Tonks. After an unsatisfactory end to the stories I've decided to not be angry with myself for taking the charters and stories and twisting them for my use. Lol. I feel no guilt.)**

* * *

Chapter Two: The Boy Who Lost His Brows

_I'm lost at sea, the radio is jamming, but they won't find me  
I swear it's for the best, and then your frequency is pulling me in closer till I'm home  
and I've been up for days, I finally lost my mind,  
and then I lost my way, I'm blistered but I'm better  
and I'm home – "Watch The Sky" by Something Corporate_

It was November, all but the evergreen leaves staid that fall. The leaves of the oak and maple left with the last of October, bidding a fond farewell to the land they dwelled upon and leaving the trees to stand bare in the cold gusts of November. Upon a hillside, above the village of Allister Hill a lone figure roamed near the edge of the steep cliffside looking out onto a sea of steel blue. The wind howled through the evergreens, rustling their long shaggy green limbs and tickled the dry wheat colored grass. Remus looked out at the harsh steely sea, listening to it crash upon the land with a fierce anger. The sky above him wasn't much better; it hinted of snow, its lumpy gray clouds covering what he was sure a promising blue sky.

Closing his eyes he let the smells of the sea and the land wash over him like a shower, letting the wind twist and turn his sandy colored hair, letting it brush its crisp cool touch against his skin. He listened to the world about him, the crashing of the sea against the cliffside, the voices that filled the streets of the village below, and the barking of a dog slowly creeping into his mind. Opening his eyes he glanced behind him at the large black dog bounding towards him. "Sirius." He said to the approaching dog that was quickly changing to the form of a man. "You're crazy for being out here. It's freezing." Sirius said with a shake of his head, pulling his tattered blue velvet coat closer to him and hunching his shoulders forward as he walked towards Remus. "You need a new coat." Remus said with a nod of his head. "I have other things to think about then coats at the moment…I got a letter from Harry. He doesn't sound so well. And from what he says of Ron andcHermione, they aren't doing so great either." Sirius said with a pause, kicking a small pebble of the side of the cliff. The wind whistled by the two old friends, pulling at Sirius's old coat and shaggy hair, playing with Remus's scarf.

"Nobody's doing very well at all Sirius. I thought…I thought it would be over. The pain…I thought it would be gone. But it's still there, like a dull ache." Remus said quietly, staring off into the distance. Resting his hand on his old friend's shoulder Sirius stood beside him for a long while before replying. "Remus it will take years before it's gone. Perhaps for us, and Harry, and the rest order, those emotions, those images, they'll never leave. But we must keep moving forward, rebuild, and move on. Standing here and looking at the past…that won't change anything." Sirius said solemnly, looking at his friend. "I suppose you're right." Remus said with a glance at his friend. "Come on lets go in, it's getting chilly out here." Remus said turning his back on to the sea. "Getting chilly? Excuse me I think we pasted chilly several hours earlier. It's down right freezing now." Sirius said following his friend's retreating back as tiny specs of snow began to drift lazily down to the hard earth. Sirius stopped and looked up at the sky above him. "Now that's just mean." He said to lumpy gray sky. "Sirius you can't blame God for making it snow." Remus said with a laugh, looking back at his friend. "I'm not blaming him, I would just like to know what I ever did to him to make him make it snow on me." Sirius said crossly. "Don't argue with him, you won't win." Remus said with a grin as he began to head towards the small cottage that sat several feet away from them; smoke floating out of its stone chimney. The snow starting to become heavier. "See! He is doing it!" Sirius said as if he'd caught someone with their hand in the cookie jar. Remus just shook his head, intent on getting inside and escaping the snow before it got worse. That was the thing about old friends, friends who knew you like the back of your hand, you could go from the darkness were serious conversations dwelled to the pile of fluff were nonsense sat.

'It's completely white out there." Sirius said incredulously as he peaked out the foggy windows. "No really? I was sure it was pink. It always snows pink, something must be wrong with your eyes Padfoot." Remus said taking a sip from the coffee mug he held in his hands. Sirius turned away from the window and walked over to the two oatmeal colored chairs were Remus sat occupying one. "I didn't want to be the one to tell you this but you're not that funny. In fact your attempts at cynicism are rather pathetic. You should stop all together." Sirius said as he slouched down into the other chair. Remus rolled his eyes at his friend's words. "What did Harry have to say?" Remus said, changing topics. Sirius stared into the fire that blazed merrily before them, lost in thought. "Nothing really. Same stuff as last time, he is coming home for Holiday though, wanted to know if Hermione and Ron could come too…Can they?" Sirius said looking over at Remus questioningly. After the battle Sirius could never bring himself to return to his family home and without an ounce of thought to it, sold it many months ago to a lovely young couple by the name of Pruett, or was it Pratt? Perhaps it was Paisley? He really couldn't remember. "This is yours and Harry's home as well as mine." Remus replied, taking another swig from his mug. "You're a good man Moony." Sirius said simply. That night the two old friends sat for many hours by the fire as the first snow of winter came early that year and quietly blanketed the world in white fluff, sticking to the limbs of the trees and coating the roofs of the village cottages like powdered sugar.

Many miles away, in the town of London, in a small flat near the river Thames, sat a young woman, her dark honey colored head bent over a book she held in her lap, and a very empty black trunk beside her. The dim glow of candles illuminated the room, casting shadows on the pale pink walls; clothes were strewn about the young woman messily, though she seemed not to notice. Her attention focused solely on the inky black words written across the old pages of the book she held in her lap. Hermione Granger was a brave Gryffindor who had never run away from anything. She'd stood and fought next to her best friends, never giving up, faced her fears time and again, and always chased after the light at the end of the tunnel when it was but a spec in the distance. Tonight however, as the wind howled outside the walls of her small flat and snow fell, covering the city of London with a thick blanket of sticky white fluff, Hermione hid away in her bedroom by herself with naught but a book to keep her company.

For the first time in her life Hermione was running away from something. She couldn't take it anymore, the repeating nightmares, every night the same fear built in her heart, naught but despair surrounding her like a heavy cloke in the land of dreams. The scenes blurred by her in a whirlwind of colored emotions, every night she was tossed into the depths of despair, unable to save herself from the nightmarish world around her, terrifying fear clutching her in its cold and clammy grasp. So tonight, she willed herself to stay awake, the familiar surroundings about her doing nothing to ease her angst. If anything they seemed to increase her discomfort for she was alone. Hermione pulled her sleepy eyes away from the book and cast a glance at the clock that hung upon the wall, it read 3:45 a.m. Hermione let out a tired sigh, she still had seven more hours to go till she left. She glanced back at the book, it was one she'd read many times before, none other than _Hogwarts A History. _Though every time she read it a new chapter was always popping up in it. (She'd still yet to figure out how it did that, and it irked her to no end not knowing.) Setting the book aside and rubbing her sleepy eyes, she let out a small yawn. Standing up slowly she stretched her sore muscles and looked about the room she stood in with distaste. She'd put off packing long enough, always saying she had time. She was to the point were she could no longer put it off, so with a tried mind, filled to the brim with thoughts of no significant matter, she trudged over to the large mahogany chest that held an array of clothes and began to pull out the pieces she wanted to take with her and set them inside the trunk neatly folding them. Moving about her room she slowly picked up the articles of clothing, papers, quills, and other odds and ends that laid scattered on the dark cherry floor about the trunk and packed them away into the compartments of her trunk. With a final look about her she closed the trunk with a hollow sounding click of the lock.

In a blaze of green fire and fit of coughing Harry Potter stumbled out of the fireplace and into the warm sitting room of the cottage. "Harry!" Sirius yelled his voice booming as he walked in the room, startling the disheveled boy-who-lived who lay face down on the wheat colored floor, his jet black hair sticking up in every direction like a confused tourist, streaks of soot marking his face. "Harry my boy you okay?" Sirius said concerned, rushing over to his godson and pulling him up and setting him to rights. "I'm okay, just really bad at that whole thing." Harry said nodding his head towards the fire that had now returned to a bright orange and red tinged fire. "Let me have a look at you. Well my boy, you've gotten taller. And- wait what have you done to your eyebrows?" Sirius said brushing up Harry's bangs that hung messily over his forehead, skirting his scare. "It's nothing." Harry said unconvincingly, brushing away Sirius's hand and trying to cover his brow. "Harry stop it and let me take a look would you?" Sirius said paternally. "My God boy! Have- have you drawn on your eyebrows?" Sirius said incredulously, licking his thumb and whipping away half of Harry's left eyebrow.

Just then the fire once again turned a bright green and withered in the fireplace when the lanky body of Ron Weasley made a much more dignified entrance then the previous man's entrance, his trunk landing next to Harry's on the hearth. "Ron! Good to see you! Have you seen this?" Sirius called over Harry's shoulder to the redhead standing on the hearth and nodding his head towards Harry who stood before him. Harry was beginning to regret coming. A mischievous grin graced Ron's lips as he walked over to the pair. "Oh yes I've seen it. That's a good look for you Harry." Ron said referring to Harry's one and a half magic marker brows. "Sod off Ron." Harry said glaring at the snickering redhead. "What'd you do? Run into a blast ended screwt?" Sirius asked letting go of Harry and standing beside Ron. "I wish." Harry muttered glancing about the room. "Where's Remus?" he said desperately trying to change the subject, anything to delay the humiliation of the truth that was sure to come out. "In his library. And don't change the subject." Sirius said as an after thought as he moved to take a seat in one of two oatmeal colored chairs that sat facing the fireplace, Ron taking the other chair beside him. "So?" Sirius said with a raised brow, signaling for Harry to begin his tale. Ron looked to be enjoying himself immensely as he watched Harry squirm. "Fred and George." Harry said, his magic marker brows furrowed. "Fred and George?" Sirius questioned looking at an amused Ron. "Harry owns them a few gallons and has yet to repay them, so they decided to take his eyebrows as payment for now." Ron said laughing. "I think I'll go put my things upstairs. Come on Ron." Harry said hurrying out of the room pulling his trunk behind him. Ron stood up and pulled out his wand and pointed at his old tarnished black trunk. Without a word the trunk jumped up and began to float out of the room and up the stairs ahead of the two young men. "Show off." Harry said dropping his trunk and copying his friend's movements. "Magic brow." Ron said following Harry out of the room. Sirius stayed in his chair, his laughter floating up the stairs after the two.

"Harry its not that bad! It's not even noticeable. Really." Sirius said unconvincingly trying to hold back his laughter as he moved about the kitchen of the cottage, opening cabinets and pulling out dishes the color of a dusky burnt red and setting them in the round wooden table. "Oh really? Because when we arrived you seemed to notice it." Harry said as he and Ron sat across from each other and started to fill their plates with a verity of colorfully cooked dishes. "Yes well, I'm your godfather. When you were born I'm the one who made sure you had ten toes, fingers, and two eyebrows. So reasonably I'd be shocked to find out I miscounted." Sirius said good-naturedly. "'Arry wut 'ime is 'ermione supposed 'oo be 'ere?" Ron asked as he crammed food into his already stuffed mouth, causing food to fly out of it when he spoke and hitting poor Harry and his magic brows, who sat across from Ron, to be hit in the face with drool drenched food. A look between horror and disgust came across Harry's face, a piece of cornbread sitting comically in the middle of his forehead. "I've been violated." Harry said in a shaky voice.

Hermione quietly and gracefully stepped out of the blazing green fire and into the sitting room of the cozy cottage. She'd been here just once before and fell in love with it. Something about it felt safe, a feeling she'd lost long ago. Setting her trunk gently on the wheat colored floor she gingerly removed her soft lambskin gloves and tucked them into the pocket of her long cloke. The room was just as she remembered it. The walls were the color of a rich silky chocolate, deep and dramatic in coloring, providing a sense of warmth. Two comfy looking overstuffed chairs sat in front of her, facing the tall glazed white mantel above the fireplace behind her, two large windows sat on either side of the fireplace, draped in fabric the color of the sky. Photos in frames of silver with delicate carvings in them dotted the mantle, a vase of bright yellow dragon snaps sat in a clear square cut vase in the center. Hermione looked at them in wonder, a slight smile played across her lips as she smelt their sweet fragrance. Turning around Hermione moved through the room, glancing at the photos that hung on the walls, the people in them smiling back and waving silently. Two large mahogany bookcases sat on either side of the large wooden archway that led to the foyer, their shelves holding books of different kinds bound in anything from leather to fabric of the deepest greens and golds. Two large couches of cream with sat facing one another, their backs against the walls in front of the bookcases, leaving just enough room to shimmy in between the bookcase and couch to find a book. Pillows of sky blue and chocolate rested on the couches, a few tossed upon the floor hitting of a pillow fight sometime before.

Passing through the archway she glanced across the foyer to the large white closed doors that she knew to lead to a quiet study. Hermione listened to the laughter and commotion that came from the kitchen that lay at the end of the hall. Her mind racing with ideas of what she'd see once she entered the room. It had been a year since she had last seen them all, she'd be lying if she didn't admit to herself that she was nervous. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. Hermione walked quietly so as not to alert them to her presence, leaning against the edge of the archway she peeking into the room, her heart lifting at when she saw them. Harry and Ron had both gotten taller, the latter taller then the former, his body still just as lanky as it was a year ago. Harry's hair still was the color of coal and sticking out at all angles, his round glasses sat on his nose, a smudge of soot running down the side of his slightly unshaven jaw, and his eyebrows looking oddly dark and crooked. Ron's hair was still as bright as a new penny and as shaggy as a dog, covering his blue eyes. He was of course shoving food into his mouth. Hermione giggled a little as she watched Ron point with his fork at the ceiling and then at Harry. What he was trying to convey to a disgusted looking Harry she had no idea. Suddenly a wooden spoon hit Ron over the head, the owner of the hand, which held the mighty fighting spoon, belonging to one Sirius Black.

Hermione watched them talk amongst themselves, even though they fought it was playful. Sirius looked younger, his tattoos still covering his hands and peeking out from his dark red shirt and green waistcoat. His dark brown hair was silky and shaggy and streaked with silver, parted on the side, his bangs were long and swept to the side, so of course they fell roguishly into his eyes, giving him a mischievous look that only caused him to be more endearing. Hermione giggled at their antics. "'Ermione!" Ron yelled dropping his fork and struggling to swallow the rather large bite of food he held in his mouth, as he caught sight of her slim form. "Ron don't talk with your mouth full." Hermione chided gently as Ron quickly moved from his seat to wrap her in a hug. "Hey, hey! Move aside, I haven't seen her either." Harry said elbowing Ron out of the way so that he could hug her next. "I'm happy to see both of you." Hermione said laughing as she hugged Harry tightly. "Harry? What happened to your eyebrows?" Hermione asked pulling away to get a better look at Harry's face. "Nothing." Harry said peevishly rolling his eyes. "I'll tell ya later." Ron whisper in her ear with a wink and grin, then walked back to the table and took his seat, were he began to stuff his face with food once more. It was slightly disgusting. "Good to see you again Hermione." Sirius said, moving behind Harry, a smile on his face, and his hands in the pockets of his dark pants. "Sirius!" Hermione said excitedly moving away from Harry to so that she could hug him. "It's so good to see you! How've you been? Well I hope?" Hermione said looking into Sirius's kind dark eyes that, for the first time, seemed to be at peace. "I'm brilliant love. And you?" Sirius said, like the others wrapping her in a tight hug. Hermione hesitated for a moment. "Well." She said simply. Sirius knew instantly that she was lying. "Later." She said quietly so that Ron and Harry wouldn't ask questions. Sirius nodding his head in understanding, pulling away his eyes searching hers, concern blooming in his eyes. "Come take a seat and grab a bite to eat. These two have already eaten half! And once Remus gets down here there's no telling what will be left. If any." Sirius said good naturedly pulling out a chair for Hermione to seat in.

The four figures sat about the round cherry wood table in mismatched chairs all painted a pale green, talking and sharing tales of their lives from the past year with one another, their bellies finally warmed with sweet drinks and tasty foods of every kind imaginable. "Sirius, where is Remus?" Hermione asked, setting her teacup down. She'd long ago noticed the absence of her old professor. "He's fine love, just resting. Full moon last night and all." Sirius said gently. "Oh. Well hopefully he'll feel better soon and we'll get to see him." Hermione said as she pushed back a lock of her dark honey colored hair that had escaped the simple French twist she and put it in earlier. "Oh I'm sure you will. You were always his favorite student." Sirius said with a laugh at the two identical looks of indigence that Harry and Ron wore at his words. "What were we then?" Ron asked defensively. "A pain in the ass?" Hermione offered helpfully with an innocent look over the edge of her teacup. "Ha-ha. You're so funny." Ron said sarcastically.

"You were all good students. Hermione was the brightest though. Harry tried the hardest to do his best, and Ron…well you did try your hardest…to avoid any work what so ever." Came a deep calming voice filled with mirth from under the archway.


	3. Chapter Three: A Dreamless Sleep

Authors note: I've got a confession to make…I'm playing favorites with my fics right now. I was planning to write the 6th chapter of my other one but… I want to write this one! Lol. Forgive me.

**Arthemis52036, MoonNightLover, DrainDamage089:** Thank you so much for your sweet comments! I'm so happy to hear that you guys like my little fic.

_**Mrs. Touchstone:**__ I'm sorry that it's so hard to read! I totally understand, and have been struggling to fix that problem and failing miserably. Sorry that it's ruining the story for you! I will continue to try and fix it. _

_**Sampadoria:**__ thanks for the comment! I'll go into it all, I understand what you mean. I'll explain Harry's situation in coming chapters, but don't worry, he's just misplaced his bank key and thus can't get his money!, I'm not sure if I'll dive into Sirius's yet, but just be assured our Mr. Black is very well off still, he's just to lazy to go out and buy a new coat. With being recognized as innocent many people are eager to speak to our Mr. Black and he'd rather avoid them at this point, that's why he's staying with Remus. And because they've been friends for so long and both Remus and Sirius lead rather lonely lives, so why not be roommates eh? Of course…by the end of the story I expect that all to change. _

Chapter Three: A Dreamless Night

The old kitchen in the cozy cottage above the village of Alistair Hill held a warmth to it that few had. In the center of the room stood a large round table made of a rich heavy wood, polished to perfection, nicks it had acquired over its many years in use dotting it's imperfectly wonderful surface. Five chairs of very different origins matching only in their pale green paint and the tiny design of gold vines that wrapped about their legs and traveled up the length of the chairs like a lover's touch sat about the table. Above from a chain wrapped in rich dark blue velvet hung a simple chandler of silver engraved with a floral design that wrapped about the delicate arms of the chandler that cast a soft and inviting glow about the room.

Against the farthest wall hung two large windows that looked out onto the rural land of the Scottish highlands. (It's always nice to be inside ones home and toy with the idea of venturing out. Even if such a thought is never acted upon.) Cabinets the same color as the velvet on the chandler sat tucked snuggly against the burnt red walls of the kitchen and held countertops the color of cream, flecks of gold and vines of pale green running throughout them.

Shiny copper pots of every shape and size hung above a stove that appeared to be from the Victorian age, a vase of brass filled with orange and red wildflowers sat next to it, casting a sweet fragrance about the room, mingling with the smells of sweet baked goods.

The room was busy, with objects and artifacts of different kinds holding court on the countertops, their purposes not entirely known even to the owners of the home.

It was a room for late night talks over mugs of hot cider and coco; it was a place to think in the wee hours of the morn, to spend time lingering over unresolved thoughts that ever so often float into the mind, and a place to reconnect with old friends.

Remus stood under the white archway, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his dark jeans, his hair shaggy and streaked with wisps of silver, tiny scars marrying his neck and face, hinting of the going ons of last night, as he walking into the kitchen.

"Remus." Hermione said with a nod of her head and a sweet smile, her eyes bright. She seemed tried, warn down, somehow more delicate then before, all of a sudden she appeared to be someone who needed to be protected. Something she'd never seemed before.

Her greeting was not loud or over done, it was simple, and a reflection of the nature of their relationship that was neither extremely close nor wrought with indifference. They shared a mutual respect for one another, and held a meeting of the minds on many a different subject. "Hermione, good to see you." Remus said with a nod of his own tawny head. "Remus!" Harry said jubilantly, standing up and shaking his old professor's hand, obviously not miffed at all with Remus's views on their careers as students. "Harry you look wel-what happened to your eyebrows?" Remus said pulling Harry closer. "Your-Harry I'm not sure how to tell you this but…you have two drawn on brows." Remus said his own handsome brows nit together, his voice holding onto the tangled ends of confusion. "Yeah thanks, I'm well aware of it." Harry said tiredly, going back to his seat. Really would they never drop the subject? "Ron" Remus said nodding to the lanky redhead and shaking his hand. Ron's grip was tight. Ah the strength of youth. "Remus." Ron said his voice seeming to get slightly deeper; obviously he was trying to change the previous assessment of his character.

"Hermione love, wake up." A gentle hand rubbed her shoulder, slowly pulling her out of the bleak dark land she had been drifting aimlessly though. "Sirius? What time is it?" Hermione asked covering a yawn and blinking her coffee colored eyes several times as she looked up from her cozy spot on the couch to the windows beside the fireplace. "Late. Afraid we bored you to sleep with our talk of qudditch." Sirius said good naturedly as he took her slim hands in his large rough ones and pulled her to her feet. "Where are Harry and Ron? What about Remus?" Hermione asked sleepily as Sirius wrapped an arm about her shoulders protectively and guided her out of the room. Making sure she didn't run into any furniture as she gathered her wits about her and took in her surroundings. "Harry and Ron went to bed just a bit ago and Remus is in his study." Sirius said as they mounted the coco colored wooden spiral wooden staircase that stood tucked into a small corner near the kitchen. "Hmmm…I like this place." Hermione said with a sniffle as they began to walk down a narrow hallway.

Cream-colored candles stood in delicate golden sconces along the wall, casting a soft dreamy glow about the hall. Photos like everywhere else in the cottage dotted the hall, hanging upon the rich burgundy and gold-stripped wallpaper. At the end of the hall stood a large window that looked out over the land and sea. Cream colored curtains hung about the large window, a window seat of the same wood as the staircase sat snuggly under the window, topped with pillows of pale blues and golds. Six tall white wooden doors lined the hallway, three on each side of the hall. "Harry's the first door on your right. Ron is the middle door on your right. I'm the first door on the left, bathroom in the middle, Remus is the last door on your left, and you, my dear girl, are the last on the right." Sirius said smiling almost paternally at her as he turned the golden knob and opened the door for Hermione to go in. "You won't be bothered tonight, love. You can sleep in peace." Sirius said with a look of understanding on angular his face. It was odd, over the years he'd come to know her better then anyone, even Harry and Ron. Sirius was one of those rare people who could look at someone and really see them for who they were, their hopes, fears, and dreams. With him she needn't go into a long drawn out explanation of the dreams, at lest not tonight. He knew. And for know that was good enough for Hermione. "Thank you." Hermione said smiling back at Sirius as he waving a small goodbye before shutting the door, the lock clicking into place.

Hermione looked about the lovely little room; it felt safe, just like the rest of the cottage, warm, and inviting. Something she hadn't felt it what seemed like ages. A few feet in front of her stood her coal black truck, its gold locks gleaming brightly as it sat at the foot of a large four-poster bed the color of a rich chocolate, with hints of gold and red throughout its grain. Soft velvet curtains the color of pale summer wheat hung about the bed, tied loosely to each post reviling a soft of oh-so comfortable looking bed, pillows of various shades of blue, richly colored reds, and pale golds dotted the bed, sitting upon the patchwork quilt of deep reds, golds, pale greens, and summer blues, that covered the feathery soft bed.

On the left wall sat a small fireplace, it's mantle panted a glossy white, a cheery fire burning brightly warming the room, three small square silver vases holding dragon snaps of various colors sat upon the mantle. They smelled sweet and innocent. How they came to be in such horrible weather Hermione was too sleepy to question, she simply welcomed their presence and moved about the room. On either side of the bed sat two fat square windows, wispy curtains of a burgundy hanging about them. Hermione pressed her hand to the cold window and peaked out to the starry night sky above. The snow clouds had since moved on it seemed. She watched as a soundless wind passed through the forest that lay outside the cottages stonewalls, ruffling the shaggy limbs of the evergreens that ran along the steep hillside.

Two small wooden nightstands with scenes of the countryside painted on them sat on each side of the bed. One in the spring and one in the fall. Hermione looked at the spring painted nightstand. Of course these were no ordinary paintings, for these were like those in the Wizarding world and so the wind moved the wispy trees in the painting, and tickled the dark green grass, as small birds of pale blues and reds twittered about, flying in the sky in the painting.

Suddenly a knight clad in silver amour and mounted on a white horse came charging into the painting "Good day fair maiden! I am sir Davenport. You wish is my command." Said the deep voice of Sir Davenport as he hopping off his horse, took off his helmet to reveal a dashing face, and preformed a gallant bow. Hermione, even in her sleepy state couldn't help but laugh a little at the knight. _If only he were real_. She thought with a sign to herself.

"Hello Sir Davenport. I'm Her-"

"Hermione Jane Granger. Nineteen years old. A maiden in need of protection!" said the knight jumping up and waving his long bejeweled sward about in a wild fashion. The brightly painted yellow sun reflecting upon it. Hermione's delicately arched brows nit together.

"Ho-" once again the knight cut her off mid-sentence. "Why Lord Black told me of your plight with the night. And I! Sir Davenport am here to protect you my beautiful lady!" He said once again sweeping an elegant bow. At first he was rather charming, for a painting that is, but now, he was just rather annoying. And how he, a mere figure in a painting was going to protect her, Hermione really didn't know. Or even believe it to be possible.

"Thank you Sir Davenport. I think I'll just go to bed now if you don't mind." Hermione said with a curt nod of her head. "Till later my sweet lady!" said the knight. He seemed only capable of bowing in the most elaborate ways.

Finally settled into her bed, tucked under the warm fluffy covers, the crackling of the fire and the twittering of the painted birds chirping, Hermione cast one last look at the room about her, at the pale blue silk that covered the walls, and the paintings upon it, before she said farewell and drifted, for the first time in a year, into a dreamless sleep.

"The lady rests soundly my lord!" said Sir Davenport now standing in a different painting that hung above a very different fireplace. The room was dimly lit, its walls the color of a dark wine, a large four-poster bed sat against the wall that faced the fireplace. "Very good Davenport. Now go check on Harry and Ron. But don't let them know. They're asleep. They can learn of you tomorrow." Sirius Black said as he sat in a plush chair of a deep chocolate fabric in the corner of the room and sipped brandy, staring absently into the dazzling flames that licked the bottom of a copper pot that hung in the fire. "Very well my lord!" Sir Davenport said, hopping onto his horse and ridding out of the painting.

That night, while the others in the house slept, some restlessly, some dreamless, some in the throws of a mighty fight with an elf in a tea cozy and some with dreams of socks of many colors attacking them, Remus Lupin did not sleep. Instead the one time professor laid out on an old dark leather couch in his study that sat facing the large double doors the lead to the hallway, a rather large, faded book in his lap. A large mahogany desk cluttered with papers and quills, and old ink pots, sat on one end; a large chair behind it stacked high with books sitting on its seat. Photos filled the wall behind it, the people in them jumping and jousting, smiling and waving. On the opposite wall stood tall dark bookcases, their shelves filled to the brink with different books on a wide array of subjects, some in different languages all together. Books and papers sat stacked upon one another in messy groups all about the sand colored carpet.

The couch on which our dear professor laid upon sat tucked snuggly under two large windows, their heavy rich purple curtains shut, blocking out the moon and starry night sky. Remus had had quite enough of the moon, he was never egger to see it. So many a night the drapes stood drawn for that very reason. The night sky proved only to be a reminder of how much time he had left till the next full moon.

Life in the small cottage had been rather lonely that year, but with the presence of three new people that was sure to change. And Remus, who usually enjoyed in peaceful existence, was actually looking forward to it.


	4. Chapter Four: Early Morning Matters

Authors note: I think…this story will end in a very lovely way. I hope I can make people cry in an "aw…oh god that's the sweetest!" well…I'm workin' on it! Lol. Sorry for not updating in so long. My life has been a little up in the air. I just started college Monday. Today is Saturday. My first week as a college student and I survived! Yay me!

Well I know you're all waiting for the story to continue, so I won't bore you with any more facts about my life. I hope you enjoy the coming chapters. I'm so pleased that you like it so far. I felt very nervous about writing and submitting it here, I've never show anyone so it was a big step for me. Thank you all for being so kind and sweet with your comments, you're the best readers out there!!!!

Why I Love My Readers, let me count the ways… 

_1) They're pretty damn nice, and leave lovely comments._

_2) They read through awful spacing! We have some dedicated people here, if they're willing to put up with that!_

_3) They don't flame me. _

_4) They seem really awesome. Two to one my readers are better than yours. :P_

_(Sirius Black, agrees with me. So does Sir Davenport. Deal)_

**Betwithed-by-you182, Aturwriter:** Sorry about the spacing. I fixed the last two chapters, hopefully they're better and you can go back and not have to skip over parts. I know what you mean about it, I do that with some stories also. Lol.

**Wasu:** Aw thank you!

**LotrNaustenfan:** Thanks. I'm glad you think it's more believable, I do too. I promise some action soon, not a lot, but a tiny bit. But that's about a chapter or two away. Thanks again for the comment!

**Lucy Luthor:** I LOVE Sir Davenport. I just needed to add some silly fluff into the mix. Sometimes is seems like we fiction writers of Harry Potter forget that this world J.K. created was odd and interesting, and instead of adding more odd and interesting and outrageous things to it, we take her characters and try to bring them into the muggle world so to speak. Thanks for the comment!

**BrainDamage089:** Hahaha, I'm so happy that my story gave you the warm fuzzies! I love it when stories give me that feeling. Hope it continues. 

Now on with our tale…

* * *

Chapter Four: Early Morning Matters

The days and nights seemed to float by in a dreamy haze of ease and relaxation. The sky changed with the tide, as the wind lashed out against the highlands, moving the shaggy evergreens, the stumpy arms of the bare oaks, and the naked limbs of the maples about. The world felt as if it had simply frozen. The town of Allister Hill did not buzz with life as it had a mere week ago; the villagers did not bustle about the narrow and crooked snow covered cobble stone streets, or duck into stores, their dully colored coat tails whipping about in the wind. No, the muggles of the highlands had long ago retreated into their cozy cottages, were white smoke merrily danced out of plump stone chimneys and candles stood in every window, casting an inviting glow to the world outside their sweet escapes.

It had been a week since Hermione had arrived at the cozy cottage on Cherry's Bluff. Since that first night a pattern had begun to emerge for the residents of inviting but slightly odd little cottage on the hillside.

Hermione herself would sleep through the night; something that just days ago seemed like an unattainable goal, something that would always dangle in front of her, but finally the past was no longer haunting her present. It was as if her past had realized that it had a place of its own to be, a little cubby in the back of her mind, were a small gold plate hung with the word _past, _scribbled upon it in neat, curvy letters that slanted slightly to the right.

It was an odd sensation, Hermione thought to herself, to be with out the nagging thoughts always pulling her away from her present. Nothing for the first time was holding her back. When you've been held for so long in the palm of something that has control over you, while you have nothing but the desire to be free, is rather unsettling. For you still view your life as if the shackles still hung about your ankles still, as if the bars of jail still blocked your way. You forget how fast you can run, how you can move every which way without the metal weighing you down. You feel oddly light and airy, and for a bit, it's rather scary to have so much freedom, peace of mind, because you have no idea what to do with it.

Sirius continued to keep a watch over his young friends with the help of the ever faithful and flighty Sir Davenport and his brave steed. The subject of Hermione's nightmares were never brought-up, they had simply gone away, and Hermione had no desire to ask why for the first time in her life, she simply let it be.

Harry and Ron continued as they always were, though slightly damaged from the events of the past years, those scares though, emotional and physical, were kept hidden under warm knit sweaters, grins, and belly shaking laugher. They were men, young men. And young men never talked about their feelings. As if such a word even existed in their ratty old copies of _Duke Dandihandle's Dictionary For The Wizard Of Tomorrow. _

When they arrived at the cottage on Cherry's Bluff Sirius had told them of Remus's habit of living in his study. Hermione had simply cast it aside as another exaggeration of Sirius's, meant simply to ping the devoted scholar as a mystery wrapped in a enigma. (Which Sirius adamantly insisted to Remus privately that he needed if he were ever to catch the eye of a lady.) As it turned out though Sirius was not exaggerating, for in fact she had only seen her old professor a hand full of times since her arrival.

What went on in the mind of a scholar no one new for sure, and with the way the resident scholar and one time professor barricaded himself in his study, they were most surly never going to find out. At lest not in this lifetime.

Remus looked out over the world from behind the glass of his study. The early morning sky above brighter than it ever had been before it seemed, the sun shown on the snow that sparkled under its warm gaze like crushed diamonds. The shaggy evergreens tussled under the hand of the ticking wind outside the cottage.

The sound of cabinet doors shutting and clanging sounds of pots in the kitchen drew Remus away from his wondering thoughts and into the present. "Sirius not like that!" came the muffled, mirth filled voice of Hermione. What Sirius was doing in the kitchen to get such a reaction he wasn't quite sure. With his interest slightly peaked and the low growls of his stomach pointing out quite indigently that it was time to eat, Remus left the small messy study that was his sanctuary, and strode down the cherry hallway towards the kitchen.

"I'm sure you've heard this a million times, but could you please…be serious?" Hermione pleaded with a bemused looking Sirius who wore an apron that appeared to be made out of a light canvas like material with little blue snitches on it zooming about the edges as their tiny wings flapped. Sirius wore the magical apron over his dark navy blue button down shirt and dusty red waistcoat. White powder married the apron and the edges of his sleeves that were rolled up to his elbows, brashly designed tattoo's marked his tan arms, marks of flour covering them, little spots of flour had even found a way onto his charcoal trousers.

Sirius leaned against the counter, one hand resting on his hip, the other on the counter top, a lopsided smile on his thin lips, as he watched the young witch before him. "My dear I was born Sirius." He said with a light laugh. Hermione let out an exasperated breath and rolled her dark eyes at him, a reluctant smile slipping onto her rosy lips. A lock of honey colored hair had escaped the low loose ponytail in which she wore it and fell to the side her face sweetly. "Like you haven't ever said that before." She said pursing her lips, pretending to be mad. Good thing too, thought Sirius, as she held a heavy cookbook open and resting on one of her gentle hands and a large wooden spoon in the other. "Okay, okay. I'll be good. Scouts honor." Sirius said saluting her. "Now what do we add in next?" Sirius said moving towards her and crossing his arms as he read over her shoulder.

"We need to mix the sugar and cinnamon into the batter next. And then add the pumpkin and two eggs after we mix the pervious ingredients up." Hermione said snapping the cheery yellow cookbook shut with a snap and looked up at the face of the wizard who stood over her shoulder. "Any questions?" she said with her eyebrows raised questioningly. "None. But I get to lick the spoon afterwards." Sirius said inching his face towards hers. "Fine. I get to lick the bowl." Hermione said and stuck her tongue out at him. "No fair. I would've called that had I known I could." Sirius said pretending to be unfairly jousted like a small child who'd lost a bet. "Sorry, I called it first." Hermione said moving away from him, laughing lightly as she moved to the other side of the room and sat the cookbook down. Turning about quickly, she brushed the white flour from her apron with quick strokes and cast off the apron, flinging it onto the back of the nearest chair that sat slightly away from the large round dining table in the center. "I'm going to wash up, would you mind watching the timer? We need to let the batter have time to rise. Thirty minutes should do. I'll wake Harry and Ron whilst I'm up there." Hermione called over her should as she wiped her delicate brow and walked out of the room.

Remus listened to her laugher as it floated to his ears, he could imagine the small invisible musical notes that floated through the air towards him. Their curvy notes inky like black velvet. "Ahh, the good professor is finally up!" Sirius said jubilantly throwing his arms up in the arm like an excited fan at a quidditch match, his body still leaning against the counter. Remus rolled his pale blue eyes in reply as he walked over to the black kettle that was dancing and whistled upon the stove and used his wand to open one of the many cabinets and fetch himself a dusky red tea cup, as he discreetly noticed Hermione' absence. Remus poured the steaming caramel colored drink into his cup, filling it to the top, it sloshed about the cup, splashing over the sides and landing on the small saucer that it sat upon. "In a hurry to return to your lair?" Sirius asked, walking over to where Remus stood in front of the stove, taking tentative sips of the hot liquid. "No. And it's not a lair. It's a study." Remus said, "I thought I heard Hermione's voice in here before I walked in?" he said changing the topic, taking a seat at the large round kitchen table. "Left the room right before you came in. She went to wash up." Sirius said as he pulled a chair out from the table and sat in it, hunching his body over the table. "Harry and Ron?" Remus questioned, stifling a yawn with one of his large hands. "Both asleep. It's only-" Sirius pulled out the round gold and midnight blue timepiece that rested on a long chain in his waistcoat pocket, glancing quickly at it he slipped it back into his pocket under his apron. "Nine in the morning." Sirius said, finishing his sentence as he too stifled a long lion like yawn. "Only you would define that as early." Remus said with a small lopsided grin over his teacup. Sirius just raised his heavy brows and sighed as he lifted his long frame from his chair and tiredly strutted over towards the refrigerator. Upon a wall besides the large shiny copper like refrigerator, hung a large round mirror hanging from a leash of midnight blue velvet. About the large round mirror hung twelve mirrors much smaller in size, all hanging on ribbons of velvet, the color of burnt orange. "Oh, we're getting old Remmy." Sirius said haggardly, as he stared into the largest mirror in the center. He rubbed his face; giving it a long, draw out look. "And wrinkly, we're getting old and wrinkly and we're only forty-seven. My ego can't handle this." He said with a deep sigh as he continued to stair at his reflection, making faces of distaste at himself in the mirror. "You're getting old and wrinkly. I look neither old nor wrinkly." Remus said good-naturedly. And it was true. While Remus had streaks of silver running through his tawny hair his body, his face hadn't aged as fast as Sirius's. While Sirius was plagued with the wrinkles of middle age that had snuck upon his handsome face in the middle of the night, Remus had all but escaped such a fate. The only hint of change was in his glossy hair. "I suppose that's the one thing some might say is nice about being a werewolf eh? We go through the most awful changes but hey, we still have our looks." Remus said cynically, raising his teacup in a mock salute. Sirius turned from the mirror and gave him friend a grimace, glancing down at the richly colored floor and about the room as he walked over to the chair facing Remus. Gripping the back of the light green chair with his rouge, tattooed hands, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the chair. "We will find a cure, if we have to cross the world, from the deserts of the west to the jungles in the east. We'll find one." Sirius said passionately. "Sirius…have you been reading my copy of _Until The Sky Ends…_again?" Remus asked uncertainly, concern tainting is voice, his eyebrows kitted together. Sirius looked at him and let out a huff of air. "You always have to play it off as a joke don't you?" He said, a lock of dark hair slightly hiding his right eye. "I'm not playing it off as a joke Sirius." Remus said. "I just don't think it will ever happen. I can't live my life waiting for it to happen. I just have to keep moving forward, and live like I expect to be this way for the rest of my life." Remus's tone was as if he was speaking of a friend who had long ago passed on, away from this life. He spoke with heavy ideas and heavier feelings weighing him down. "Well don't." Sirius said angrily. He hated it when Remus become melancholy, he hated that he expected his life to be full of misery, he hated to see is oldest and dearest friend suffer with such pain. "I'm going to wash up. Put your cup in the sink when you're done. And Remus? Spending your days holed up in your cramped study is not living life. It's merely letting it pass you by." Sirius said as he glanced back at his friend and tossed his apron onto the table as he walked out of the room.

Hermione bounced down the spiral staircase and into the kitchen, lost in her own thoughts were everything was much lighter and brighter since she stepped into the warm cottage. The man sitting at the table surprised the wits out of her when she caught sight of his lean frame. "Remus! What are you doing here?" Hermione asked her eyes slightly wide. If the expression on her face didn't give her away her tone certainly did. Her delicate, usually matter-of-fact voice was fringed with surprise. "I live here. Remember?" Remus said glancing up at her and then back at his tea, a grin tugging at his mouth. Hermione let out a small laugh. "Well I know that. It's just since we've been here you've been absent." She said. It didn't matter if Harry and Ron were in the room or not. It didn't matter if they were even in the same city. They three had always been _we. _When one spoke they spoke for the others as well. It was a habit of friendship.

"You're right of course. I thought it was time to change that though, so I'm here now. That alright?" He said, looking at her kindly. Of course he could be here, it was his house. Hermione was willing to tell him he could follow her about the house if he wanted, she wouldn't mind. In fact she'd rather enjoy it. Slightly surprised by the wayward though she tried to squash it and push it aside. Though making a mental note to reexamine the idea at a later date. "Of course! Sirius and I-" Hermione looked about the room, realizing that Sirius was no longer there. "Where's Sirius gone too?" Hermione asked as she walked over to the counter were a large metal bowl sat with a colorful kitchen towel over its opening. "Oh, he went to wash up as well. Decided he wasn't as fond of flour as he thought." Remus said standing up from the table and setting the teacup in the sink. "Oh. All right." Was all she said in reply, as she searched about the cabinets for muffin pan. "Well anyways, I've woken Harry and Ron, they should be down in bit. We'll be eating soon too. I know they'd love to have you about for breakfast. We've hardly gotten a chance to speak since we came." Hermione said smiling over her shoulder at Remus. It was a sweet smile, it promised nothing, but simply showed a genuine offer of friendship. Remus smiled in return, accepting her silent offer before he slowly turned and made his way out of the kitchen. Hermione turned and looked at the retreating figure. It appeared that life in the little cottage would not be like it had for the last week after all.


	5. Chapter Five: Of Teacups & Snowballs

Chapter Five: Of Teacups & Snowballs

February found a drift that year, and the storms that raged across the land early in the new year seemed never to let the small village of Allister Hill out of its violent icy white grasp. The snow continued to fall onto the crooked glassy ice covered cobblestone streets that turned into narrow paths between cramped cottages in the town and into wider paths of stone that in the center of town neatly skirted a white wooden fence that surrounded a small garden were an elegant, yet narrow brick church stood with its large windows framed in crisply painted white wood. Sitting upon a slab of granite the color of cream and gold stood two neat white wooden boxes with a petite evergreen in each sitting on either side of the arched spring blue doors that lead inside to the church, a delicately crafted gate of black iron made into a design of small leaves and flowers woven about covered the doors of the church, the blue wood peeking through teasingly.

The villagers of Allister Hill had two months back abandoned village life; instead keeping themselves snuggled up in their cottages, but boredom had quickly set in. One could only spend so much time drinking tea and reading bouquets of poems by Frost, Byron, and Pratt in front of the fire for so long. By February they were more then willing to reclaim their town, ice covered streets and all.

And with that the villagers began to trickle back into town, once again filling the pubs, and shops that lined the streets, the colorful shop signs swinging in the wind, their windows alight with life once again, and the villagers once again wrapped themselves in brightly colored coats, their long scarves draped about their necks and the ends flapping in the wind, with their mitten clad hands stuffed into their pockets and they hurried along the slippery cobblestone. Even the residents of the odd little cottage on Cherry's Bluff could be seen wondering about the steep hillside, a very strange sight to the villagers, as many had spent time contemplating the cottage and its inhabitants. Some swore just a man and a dog lived there, some said two men, so when the villagers cast a glance up to the hillside one week past and saw not one, not two, but five fingers cutting across the land and waving madly to one another it was very strange indeed.

"Harry you arse!" a man wrapped in a dark red cloke laughingly yelled as he ducked his ginger head as a large snowball flew over him and landed mere inches away from his tall lanky figure.

"Chicken!" yelled the other man who was sporting a cloke of midnight blue, a pair of thin wire framed glasses slipping down his slightly crooked nose, as he bent down gathering more snow, making a fat snowball in his gloved hands.

"Oh chicken am I?" Called Ron taking several steps forward and raising one ginger brow that disappeared under the black knit cap that covered his head.

"We'll see about that Boy Wonder!" he shouted playfully as he pulled out his wand and muttered something inaudible, Harry wasn't the slightest bit impressed, this was after all the same man who once tried to turn his pet rat yellow. So when a line of tightly packed snowballs came flying towards him out of thin air, one after another, it's safe to say that Harry was more then a little surprised. Unfortunately, and much to his disappointment, Ron was unable to see the look of shock on his friend's face as it was covered in snow, but that didn't stop him from laughing till he fell to the cold wet ground clutching his stomach as tears streamed down his red crinkled face.

"It's down my shirt! It's down my shirt!" Harry yelled loudly as he did a wacky dance in the snow, his boots making him sink several inches in the crunchy white snow.

"Oh God" Ron gasped, not trying in the least to suppress his laughter.

"You git." Harry said as he shook about one last time and brushed the last bit of snow from his face.

"You suck." He said pulling off his cap and ruffling his shaggy jet-black hair. I'm happy to report that his eyebrows had fully returned, and now set above his bright green eyes like two fat caterpillars. Something the slim browed Ronald Weasley got much joy teasing him about.

"Come on you newthead, let's go inside and get something to drink. See what Hermione's up to as well." Ron said a grin on his face as he pulled himself up and brushed off the snow that clung to his trousers and cloke.

Together the two young men made their way across the snow, it crunching under their feet icily as they walked towards the welcoming cottage that sat contently in the snow several feet in front of them, its chimney smoking cheerily. The wind though gentle was so very cold it felt harsh to their exposed faces, and turned their cheeks bright pink from the shocking cold. The full evergreens wiggled in the light wind, their shaggy limbs rustling together as the sky above matched the sea below the bluff, both the color of steel gray. As the twosome made their way together silently, each in his own thoughts, the objects that sat just beyond the windows inside the cottage became visible.

"Hey I can see Hermione from here! And Remus and Sirius too." Harry said glancing at Ron as he smiled slightly at the site of his family inside the windows of the cottage. And they were his family, the only family he'd ever known, the only ones that had ever loved him, and whose love he could remember. Blood didn't matter in situations like these, it rarely ever did. Ron looked up at Harry's words towards the windows of the sitting room. Sure enough he could spot three small figures in the room, two sitting on the couch, cups and saucers in hand, and the third figure, Hermione from the shape of the body and the delicate movements, moving about the room and tossing her head back with a jolly laugh at something one of the two men had said.

"I'm beginning to love her more." Ron said somewhat dishearteningly as he came to a stop, his hands in his pockets as he looked towards the cottage that sat below the hill they stood upon.

"I know Ron, I know." Harry said solemnly, wrapping his arm around his friends shoulder comfortingly as they stared at the cottage.

"Come on, we'll miss tea all together if we stay out here much longer." Harry said quietly.

Remus looked over the edge of teacup and at the girl who let out a light laugh at one of Sirius's ridiculous stories. The pompous prat always had to be the show, but Remus loved him like a brother nonetheless. They were a family without a doubt, though admittedly a rather odd and dysfunctional family, but a family. "Here come the boys." Hermione said as she gently set her rusty red teacup upon the large navy trunk like coffee table before her as she caught sight of the pair through the window as they approached the front door. Standing up she brushed the silky burnt orange a-line skirt that swirled about her legs as she moved towards the large archway of the sitting room.

"You two came just in on time! Your tea was beginning to get cold." Hermione said in a very mothering tone, one they had heard many times before. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron mockingly and grinned as he removed his cloke and tossed it onto one of the large iron coat hooks that lined the wall near the front door.

"Hermione." Ron groaned as he pulled off his cap and scarf and hung them over his cloke that hung next to Harry's and slammed the front door shut.

"Oh stop your gripping, I'm just trying to make sure you fools don't die of frostbite. It's freezing out there. It's not a good idea to be out there to long. It's too cold." She said walking back into the sitting room, Harry and Ron trailing behind her slim figure.

Upon the trunk like coffee table sat plates of delicious looking teacakes of every imaginable design. The smell of cinnamon and honey floated about the room intoxicatingly.

"'Ermione 'oo 'one the 'est 'ooks around" Ron said speaking though a mouthful of powdered teacakes as he gathered more onto a small blue plate in a pyramid like style. Hermione rolled her eyes at the sight of her beloved friend shoving food into his wide mouth just as he had when they were younger, though the praise was much appreciated and welcome.

"I'm glad you like them." She said, a small grin escaping and settling upon her rosy lips as she took her seat in a chair in front of the fire with Remus next to her in the matching chair, and Ron, Harry, and Sirius all squished together on the dreamy feeling couch.

"'It's true." Ron said with a nod taking a sip of the steaming tea, that was not the least bit near cold. Laughter sounded from the other men in the room at Ron's eating. "What?" he asked indigently.

"I'm hungry. And she bakes well." And that was that. And so the five-some stayed together in the cozy sitting room well into the night, as the sky above their snow covered roof-covered heads turned from gray to black without the slightest thought.

Hermione looked over a Remus who sat in the chair next to hers questioningly. He'd been looking at her all night; she'd caught him staring at her several times.

"What?" She said finally smiling at him teasingly.

"Have I managed to cover myself in powdered sugar from the cakes?" Hermione asked with raised brows.

"No, no. You're perfect." Remus said quietly with a small smile and then turned his attention back to Harry who was regaling them with tales from earlier in the day.

"You know it's hard to believe we've been here two months already. I can't believe we'll be leaving tomorrow." Ron said glancing around the room.

"I know I'm actually going to miss sharing a room with you and your loud snoring." Harry said jokingly. Ron rolled his eyes,

"Haha, you're so funny Harry." Ron said leaning back against the couch, his arms resting behind his head.

"I'm gonna miss you to Hermione. Especially you're cooking. I can't believe you live in London and we're all in Glasgow, and wherever we get sent" Harry said with a nod of his teacup in her direction. Hermione glanced down at the ground

"Well…actually, I'm not going back to London." She said glancing back at Harry, her dark eyes locking with his brilliant green eyes.

"What?" Ron added in looking at her questioningly. Sirius and Remus, both Harry and Ron noted, did not seem the least bit surprised at this news.

"I've decided to stay. I really don't like London all that much. And Allister Hill is more what I'm looking for." She said hoping they wouldn't disapprove, like it or not she cared a great deal about what they thought.

"You're not going to live with Sirius and Remus are you?" Ron asked leaning forward. He'd seen the looks Remus had cast at Hermione, though he doubted Hermione had noticed. As for Remus, Ron doubted if he even knew he was doing it.

"No, no. As much as I love Sirius and Remus, and I do-" she looked at them both for a moment adoringly, "I've decided to buy a little cottage down in Allister Hill, the village that sits just below this bluff." Hermione glanced around the room, with no sign of any questions she continued. "It will be perfect for me. And I'll be near Sirius and Remus if…If I get lonely." That was not of course what she truly meant, what she truly meant what _if I fall down the rabbit hole of insanity. _But of course they all knew this. Harry and Ron and learned of the nightmare's she'd been having weeks ago, they themselves had been having them. Though none since they'd all moved into the cottage with Sirius and Remus.

"That sounds like…a good idea. You'll be safer here anyways. And closer to people who care about you if something should happen." Ron said finally. The "if something should happen" translated into _if any death eaters decide to do something foolish. _Of course Voldemort had been killed, but the fanatics that followed his crazy lead had not, and they were an ever-present threat.

"So, have you found a cottage yet?" Harry asked.

"Yes a lovely one. It has a small garden and faces the lane and the church. It's in a great location and has a spare room so…if you ever get board you can come visit me." Hermione said.

"What about your job?" Ron asked, his brows slightly kit together.

"I'm a writer Ron, I can write anywhere." Hermione replied, confident that she was making the right choice.

"Hermione will be alright boys, old Remmy and I will keep an eye out for our little darling here." Sirius said with a wink and a reassuring smile, trying to lighten the heavy mood that had slowly descended upon the small party.

"Don't call me Remmy." Remus said giving Sirius a glare, to which Sirius replied with by grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"I think I'll go to my study, I have some work to finish. 'Night all." Remus said as he sat down his now empty teacup on the trunk before him and stood up, his lean figure dressed casually in a pair of simply dark charcoal trousers, the tails of his deep red shirt untucked, and the delicate gold chain of his pocket watch hanging out of his chocolate colored waist coast. _He really looks quite dashing_, Hermione mused, her hand cover her mouth slightly.

"Good night Remus." She called after his retreating figure as he glanced back at her and have a nod of his tawny head, a lock of hair falling roguishly the side of his face, touching a slim scar that ran along his jaw line. Hermione had wondered about it, but and decided not to ask, worried that it may be a sensitive topic.

"I should head off to bed, and you two as well, you've got an early morning." Sirius said with a sigh as he got up from the couch.

"You all right?" Harry asked concerned at Sirius's sigh.

"I'm fine. Stupid couch looks nice, but a pain to sit on. It's to damn fluffy for my tastes." Sirius said rubbing is lower back.

"It is rather squishy." Harry said standing up. "Come on Ron, Shacklebolt will have our heads if we're late to work tomorrow." Harry added, as an after thought as he made is way out of the room.

"I'm coming. Night Sirius, Hermione." Ron said patting her shoulder gently as he passed by her. Hermione held onto his hand for moment.

"Thank you for worrying about me." She said looking into is sweet ever-blue eyes.

"Hermione, you're my friend, I love you. I can't help but worry about you." Ron said smiling at her softly. Ron for all his faults, for all his hot temperedness and tendency to jump to conclusions and overprotective attitude could never be accused of not caring, for if anything he cared to much.

"Sleep well." He said ducking his tall frame down to give her a peck on the cheek. "You too." She called after him, as she looked into the fire whose embers burned in the fireplace like melted gold.

"He loves you, you know. Ron." Sirius said quietly staring into the fireplace thoughtfully.

"I know." Hermione replied softly. The two stayed in silence for several minutes, Sirius leaning is lean figure against the mantle piece were small cream colored candles glowed in small glass carriages, small bouquets of white flowers sitting in small square blue boxes in between the candles that stood in a row. Hermione sat curled up in the chair she'd been in all night, her slip chocolate slipper covered fit tucked underneath her, and resting her oval face in her hands.

"I think I'm making a good decision to leave London." She said finally.

"I think you are too." Sirius replied simply.

"With your parents gone and Harry and Ron roaming about God knows where it would better for to be closer to people who care about you and are around when you need them. I won't lie to you Hermione, it's not over. Not by a long shot." Sirius said with a serious tone looking at her.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, a knot forming in her stomach, memories of the awful dreams and reality she'd gone through flashing through her mind,

"It's only been a year, and with my most beloved cousin and her good for nothing husband still on the loose with their insane friends, nobody is safe." Sirius said sarcastically mentioning is cousin. It was a widely known secret that Sirius was the proverbial black sheep of the dark Wizarding family that he was related to. Sirius would always insist that it was by blood only and that he was sure that enough water could eventually dilute it.

"The Minster said it was taken care of though. That it was over." Hermione said, willing herself to believe that. It had to be over, it just had to, for the sake of her sanity she couldn't go through another war.

"Hermione, when have you ever known a Minster in the government to tell the truth?" Sirius asked with a raised brow, his hands resting in his pockets. Hermione glanced about wearily.

"Unfortunately…none." She said tiredly rubbing her sleepy eyes.

"Oh Sirius…I can't go through another war. Not yet. Not for a long time." Hermione said her tone heavy with the idea of another war.

"Well hopefully we'll be able to prevent another uprising. Why do you think Harry and Ron are always going to unheard of places? They're going with others like them from the ministry to try and keep people like my vile cousin down. And I pray they succeed." Sirius said leaning his head back and rubbing his eyes.

"You should get some rest. Don't barrow trouble Hermione thinking about it. Just know it's a possibility and be on the lookout. They'll be after people like you after all more so know." Sirius said moving away from the fireplace. _People like me. Muggleborns. _Hermione thought to herself.

"Come on love, you need some rest too." Sirius said holding his hand out to her. Taking his large rough hand in her soft small one she gingerly got up from the chair and together with their arms wrapped about one another's waist they made their way out of the sweet sitting room and began to climb the large spiral staircase. Leaving their worries for tomorrow and simply focusing on the steps in front of them.


	6. Chapter Six: The Start Of Something New

(Authors note: Anonymous comments are now allowed, I apparently had the feature turned off and didn't even know it! I'd love to hear feedback and what you guys like and dislike. All comments welcome!

P.s. if you're like me and have a fondness for Sir Davenport, no matter how small his appearance in the story was, have no fear, Sir Davenport shall return! And not be confined by the bounds of his fame…dun, dun, dun!)

Chapter Six: The Start Of Something New

It sat facing the center of town, a cozy two-story cottage with a dark thatched roof and four large square windows that watched the church in the center of town. Its door was painted a glossy berry red, a small brass knocker designed in the shape of a wreath of blooming flowers sat on the face of the door. Empty window boxes painted a bright sky blue sat under each window, nothing but rich dark soil in their chests. The small cottage sat in a merry row of cottages that faced the center of town; behind them an open field lay before a thick forest of shaggy evergreens.

Many of the villagers had wondered who would next occupy the cottage. And by many of the villagers I mean the noisy women folk. So on one dreary day in February, when a tall, muscular man wearing a cloke of deep blue helped a young women of a slight build wrapped in a long velvet cloke the color of coal and a mass of dark honey curls held back by strand of silk ribbon the color of the sky that day, step out of a closed carriage that was pulled by two imposing horses the color of the night, many a housewife peaked through her curtains to catch a look at the mysterious figures.

Horse drawn carriages were not uncommon in this part of Scotland, with the land the way it was, and the lack of roads horse back was the more reliable and safer way to get about than the automobiles that zipped around the streets of Glasgow and Edinburgh.

Hermione looked out the window of the carriage, the passing cottages a blur, the faces of the people on the streets unrecognizable.

"I no I've not spoken much on the subject, but I am happy you're moving into town." Hermione glanced away from the window and to the man who sat across from her.

His tone was quite, his hair slightly ruffled, and a gentle smile graced his thin lips. Hermione returned his smile. "I am too Remus, I really am, surprisingly." She replied.

Remus flashed a grin, a spark in his gray-blue eyes. "You didn't think you'd like my country side eh?" he said teasingly.

"No, I didn't think I could ever love anyplace besides your cottage. It's too enchanting; it has thoroughly ruined my ability to love any other place. But perhaps in time that will change and I'll come love this cottage of my own." Hermione said in mock grief.

Remus let out a deep laugh. "I do apologize. It tends to have that affect upon people. But now you can understand why I rarely leave it."

"Well I do hope that will change and you'll venture out to come visit with me once in a while." Hermione said tilting her head slightly. The carriage had begun to slow as it approached the center of town.

"Sirius nipping at my hills couldn't keep me away." Remus said good-naturedly.

Hermione let out a bubble of laughter. "Make sure you drag along his sorry bum as well."

"I don't think I could prevent him from coming if I tried." Remus said with a sigh and flashing smile.

"Now why would you ever try to prevent him?" Hermione asked, her teasing tone taking on a new emotion.

Remus glanced out the window for a moment and then back to her. "Perhaps-" he started slowly. "I'd want to see you alone, though I don't know if I'd be welcome. But that's a bridge every suitor must cross isn't it?" Remus said with a raised brow.

"Suitor?" Hermione questioned, her heartbeat quickening beneath her chest, as a slight tingle ran throughout her body.

"'Eh, if you'll have me. And I think you will." Remus said with a knowing smile that reviled he was aware of the affect his statement had upon her.

Hermione's eyes widened. He knew! "Smug bastard." She shot back at him, not in the least bit serious in her accusation.

"Werewolf darling." He said unable to keep the smile from his face. He really was an attractive man.

"Oh, so you know everything then?" she asked with a raised brow and crossing her arms.

"As much as you let on. Whether you know it…or not." Was he actually flirting? _God I'm too old for this. _Remus thought to himself. But he couldn't help it; he didn't want to stop whatever was just beginning to happen between them.

Hermione looked him over. "You never let on." She said in a rather matter-of-fact tone. "Not once did you hint that there might be something more."

"Hermione how would it look if I, your former professor, your friend, friend to your to close friends, who's almost twenty odd years older than you, began a flirtation under the watchful eye of the people who care about us? They'd have all assumed I'd gone mad." Remus explained, his eyes reflecting the color of the sky above them.

"Have you?" Hermione questioned teasingly as she moved to sit beside him, and looked into his face, her amber eyes meeting his silver eyes, uncountable emotions passing between them.

"Around you, yes. I can't help it. And perhaps I don't want too. All I can ask is that you forgive me for committing the unthinkable and falling head over hills in lust with you. I tried to ignore it. I tried to ignore you. And if you recall I spent very little time in your company. I would…I would still like to court you. If you'll allow it?" Remus asked. He spoke lowly, his deep voice with its rough Scottish accent felt like silk against her skin, as it washed over her. He liked her. Lusted after her. The wave of emotion that consumed her made her feel dizzy and breathless and excited at the possibility of what could be all at the same time.

Remus looked down upon the slim woman who stat beside him. He could see her mind race, felt her heat and her excitement and desire. His own pulse began to race like that of a horse with no other goal but to move as fast as possible.

"Hermione?" he asked, as he reached out to grasp her slim gloved hand in his large bare one. Hermione looked up at him, searching his eyes, and reading the question in them.

"Yes. Yes you can court me. Anytime." She replied breathlessly as she looked into his deep soulful eyes. Hermione felt as if the ground had fallen out from underneath her feet. He wanted her. She, Hermione Jane Granger had someone who wanted her. But why? But then why did it matter? Who cared why, she was wanted! And by a man who had spoken less to her than ever possible within a three-month span of living together. She wanted to laugh at the absurdness of it all. The wonderful absurdness of life at play.

"Good." Was all he said in reply, but his smile said everything else.

"So, are you the strong silent type then? After all, you spoke nearly not a word a day to me the whole time I lived with you." Hermione said, her slightly teasing tone returning after having managed to calm her nerves a bit.

Remus let out a bark of laughter. When she was playful she had to be the most adorable, enchanting woman on Earth. "Wouldn't you like to know." he replied like the chesirecat.

"Ummhumm yes I would. That's why I asked you see." Hermione said slipping her arms through the crook of his, and snuggled up to him slightly.

"Sorry, 'fraid you'll just have to learn as we go along. Will you be able to handle the suspense?" he asked as he leaned his face closer to hers.

Hermione turned her face up a bit more. "Well I can certainly try." She said closing the space between them. His rough hand cupped her face, his lips meeting her soft ones in a first kiss.

Electricity ran through his veins, she smelt of the sweetest roses and the sea, an intoxicating mix that twirled his senses. Soft and sweet, her skin was like silk against his rough palm. With regret he pulled away from their heady kiss. Hermione looked up at him from under her lashes, her cheeks stained pink, her lips red and puffy.

"Sweeting I don't want to rush this. Lets take our time, we have plenty of it." Remus said, caressing her cheek.

Hermione blushed and smiled guiltily. "Eh, but can we wait is the question." She said laughing slightly.

Remus laughed, "I've been waiting, I can wait a bit longer. Not forever mind you." He said wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

The carriage finally came to stop in front of Hermione's newly acquired cottage. Hermione looked upon her new home favorably from behind the window of the carriage. She'd fallen in love with it immediately. With its glossy berry door and its large windows, and its dark golden wooden shingled walls it was impossible not to love. It was like a cottage from a fairytale, with its large garden that was gated by a red brick fence that was waist high it was utterly charming. Though admittedly it was the middle of winter and so the grass that Hermione imagined to be a rich dark green sat burred under several inches of icy snow and the garden planters were void of any plants. But all that could be fixed come spring. The lot had plenty of trees, several large ones the back whose long willowy limbs reached above the roof of the cottage and out the sky, and a few well placed ones along the fence to provide some privacy from the busy cobblestone street that the cottage faced.

"Thank you." Hermione said to Remus has he helped her step down from the cottage and onto the street.

"Of course." Remus replied as he placed her hand on the crook of his arm and led her up to the garden gate.

"Mr. Higgins if you wouldn't mind bringing the luggage into the house I would greatly appreciate it, and will make it well worth your wile." Remus said to the portly coachman who sat with the reigns in his fat gloved hands.

"Of course Mr. Lupin." Mr. Higgins said with a pleasant smile and a tip of his hat. Remus nodded his head in reply.

"Come on then. Lets go explore my new home. I'm so curious about it I must confess. Even though I've already gone through it with the realtor." Hermione said opening the wrought iron gate and pulling a laughing Remus along the small stone path and through the front door.

"John! John! You'll never believe it! That young woman we saw looking at the cottage next-door did acquire it! Well I'd never believe it to happen! It's been so empty for so long. We must go over first thing tomorrow and welcome her. Or _they _I should say. I saw a man, oh good lordy and a man he was, with her. I wonder if they're married…" Mrs. Agnes Bailey continued talked for sometime, unaware that her husband, a Mr. John Bailey, the local town grocer who'd she been wed to for some twenty odd years, had fallen asleep half way through her rambled gossip. But really who could blame him? Mrs. Bailey even put the priest to sleep once, and he was a man of God.

Hermione and Remus, unaware that their presence in town was already beginning to cause a stir walked about the cozy cottage, exploring the many rooms, the running up and down the stairs, their laughter filling the cottage to the brim. A thing the old cottage had not been graced with for many years.


	7. Chapter Seven: Thoughts & Window Views

**(Authors Note: Thank you so much for the lovely and helpful comments throughout my time posting this story. After the suggestion of getting a beta, something I'd been toying with for a while now, I'm putting it out there that I NEED a beta reader, someone to tell me what they think, what they like and dislike before I post. If you're interested in being my beta for this story, and for my other ones that are sure to follow please email the following information to me at: caindiemusicjunkie gmail dot com**

**name: **

**Favorite ship(s):**

**Favorite charter:**

**Favorite line from the Harry Potter series:**

**And what type of flower do you believe Snape would be if he were in fact a flower?**

**Now…onto our tale!)**

Chapter Seven: A Day For Thoughts & Window Views

Hermione stood alone in the main hallway on the first floor of her new home. Looking out over the land through the large picture window that ran the length of the wall, from top to bottom, it was as if she was outside. A person peeking into the cottage might have mistaken the look on her face for that of someone who'd just lost the love of their life, but in fact it as quite the opposite. Hermione had simply drifted of into the place that rests inside all our minds, were emotion and imagination meet, creating a world completely our own.

Reaching out she pressed a slim hand lightly to the cold glass, watching the world beyond her place in front of the window. Her world had changed. For so many years she'd been fighting for her life, grasping at anything and everything trying to simply make it to the point were no longer would she have to fight, and here she was, finally. Soldiers returning from war are never the same; they were a testament to that. Their world, their people, were not the same. After the final battle they had gathered the ashes of what had been and tossed them away. You can't build a house on sand, and they couldn't build their new world on what used to have been.

What would happen to the generations who made it through? Hermione mused. _Will we make it? Will we be able to piece back together our lives? _Would they? Do they pick up were they left off or simply forget it and start everything anew?

It was during the war that she thought like that, everyone thought like that. And now here she stood, in her own cottage, with a handful of good friends, a tasty recipe for raspberry tarts from one Mrs. Molly Weasley, and a beau.

Hermione let a small chuckle escape and with a rueful shake of her head turned and began to slowly walk towards the front door that sat behind her.

Pulling off her gloves, finger by finger and gently biting her lower lip, something she always did when she was focusing on something, she began to walk down the main hall and study her new home.

It was not a large cottage by any means, but most certainly a beautifully built one, from the intricate carvings in the wood work that ran throughout the house, from the baseboards, to the banister, the fireplaces, and the crown moldings, to the large windows that made you feel as if you were outside. It was open and airy and held a pleasing charm to it.

Hermione ran her hand across the railing of the stairs as she walked. Before her stood the glossy deep berry colored front door, behind her sat the picture window that looked out onto her back garden. It was a new thing for Hermione, having a back garden. And what a back garden it was, in fact it had been the coin that tipped the scale when she was looking for a cottage. Though the cottage itself was modest in size, it sat on an acre lot surrounded by a dark red-brick fence that hugged the sandy beach that sat just on the other side of the fence. With its tall willowy trees dotting the backyard, flowerbeds and grass burred under many inches of snow, sand and the large waves of the rough ocean just feet beyond her gates, crashing onto the sandy beach and pulling chunks of snow out to sea, it was very much a site.

Dropping her gloves and cloke into a pile at the base of the stairs that hugged the wall that lined the main hallway, Hermione removed her wet boots that were dripping with snow and began to climb the stairs. The wood beneath her feet felt slightly cold, the pale honey colored banister that ran under her hand felt like worn silk. The steps were old and creaky, but she rather enjoyed their off-key melody, but it was their color that captured her. A mix of pale gold and dark berry swirled together; she'd never seen wood of such a color. Sometimes the most interesting things were hidden in the oddest of places.

She could see them here, Remus and her, their future, children racing up and down the stairs, clothes wet from playing in the snow tossed into a great messy pile at the base of the stairs, framed photos of them laughing hanging upon the wall…_Hermione! Honestly! Slow down. Breathe. You have time. _Hermione shook her head as if trying to nock out the thoughts that roamed about. The images though stuck, and she couldn't help it, they were like a photo album of what could be, and so pleasant were they that she couldn't help but dwell upon them. Though she had time, something she once feared she'd never have, and now she could have as much of it as she wanted.

The lean man stood before the large stone fireplace, the light from the fire casting his shadow upon the wall before him. A glass of amber liquid in one hand; the other hand draped dramatically over half his face the man looked about the room as if he expected someone to sneak upon him at any moment and he was trying to catch them first. The man turned about to face the empty portrait the hung over the great fireplace, he took a deep swig from the glass in his large hand, and removed the one that covered his face. _Oh my head. _The man thought to himself.

" Davenport…Davenport I know you're in there. I know you can hear me." The man said in an aggravated voice as he walked across the room and dropped his lean frame into the plush dark chair that sat in the corner of the room facing the fireplace.

Suddenly a knight in shinning armor ridding upon the back of a magnificent white horse charged into the painting. "Never fear! Sir Davenport is here!" The enthusiastic knight shouted in his deep baritone has he lifted his lance towards the painted heavens.

The man in the chair lifted a dark brow. "Davenport my good fellow, I'm afraid I'm not up for games today so I'll get to the point. I need you to watch over Hermione just as you did when you were here. And now that I think about it Harry and Ron as well…though they may be a bit harder to find." The man took another long swig from his crystal glass.

"And not from a portrait this time." Sirius Black added as an after thought.

"My Liege I am yours to command. Lay my path and it I will follow true and straight! Never to wonder, nor break, nor bend, for I am Sir Davenport! Yours to command!" The Knight said hopping down from his horse and making a great bow on bended knee, the portrait wind blowing his flowing blond locks.

"Good! That's what I'm counting on." Sirius said as he raised his glass in salute to the knight.

Sirius finished off his drink with a deep gulp of the amber liquid and set it down with a loud thud against the dark wooden dresser that sat beside his chair and got up and slightly stumbling his way along to the a large writing desk that sat before a tall window framed in folds of dark red velvet.

Sirius began to rummage through the desk's many small drawers that held a rather large assortment of odd and what looked to be useless artifacts. With a small _ah-ha! _Of triumph Sirius pulled a piece of thick creamy parchment from the top draw and shut it with a gentle push. Holding the parchment in one hand he used his other to swipe away the scattered mess of papers that had previously rested on the top of the desk.

Sirius sat the blank parchment before him and stared at it, his brows nit. With a snap of his fingers a fine eagle feathered quill appeared between the long tapered fingers of his left hand. Sirius quickly dipped the quill into the small inkwell that sat next to several framed photographs and a stack of books, held it above the parchment for but a moment, and began to swiftly write a response to an owl he had received some months ago.

Remus peeked through his study window that faced out towards Allister Hill. The sky was a lumpy and bumpy gray today, the wind from the Atlantic blowing across the land and moving the bare limbs of the naked trees. A small smile played across his face as he thought of the day's happenings. This love, no…no not love, not yet, this lust, yes lust was the proper word for it, had not changed him significantly. He was still as sensible as he was before, now though he could easily be persuaded to give Hermione the moon if she asked for it, all she had to do to was but ask and it was hers. If he had to read every book and search the world over to find a spell to bring it to her he would.

Remus turned away from the window with a contented sigh and began to ruffle through the disorderly bookshelf closest to him in search of something to read. Books of every color and size lay upon the dark shelves; some upside down, some sideways, stacked one upon another. It was chaotic at its best and there was something wonderfully delicious about it. Remus stared thoughtfully at the books for a moment, his hand lightly grazing the covers of the book till finally landing upon a book covered in pale blue silk words scrawled across its cover in gold. Pulling the book from the shelve Remus walked over the couch that sat up pushed under a window and laid out up the couch, a pillow of deep orange resting under his tawny head and a fire blazing merrily in the large fireplace, warming the room. And with that Remus settled in for the night and began to read a book he'd not read since his school days…_12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches. _

It was going to be a long night.

Miranda McGinnis stared at the letter that lay unopened before her, the name upon it causing her to arch her thin dark brows suspiciously. _Sirius Black. _Miranda circled the dark oak table that the letter sat upon in her small kitchen. Propped up against a tall vase of a deep purple with white hydrangeas spilling over the edges, it was almost as if the letter was daring her to open it. Miranda snapped her arm out and grabbed the letter. _What could that rascal possibly want this time? _Miranda's mind was ill at ease. Sirius very rarely wrote to her, and the last time he had it had very nearly gotten her fired from her post as editor-in-chief at the Daily Prophet.

Miranda tapped the letter against her painted red lips. Years of smoking had given her tiny wrinkles that puckered about her lips. She was not an unattractive woman by any shot, no indeed in her day she'd be quite the beauty, but time, and worry, had graced her delicate heart-shaped face with wrinkles about her lips, the skin of her neck were strings of beads hung from, began to slightly crinkle like tissue paper, and the sharp blue eyes that sat behind a pair of sleek black glasses had developed small wrinkles at the corners. Slim and willowy Miranda Black-McGinnis (she'd married years earlier and taken her husband's name) was still just as lovely as she once was, but it was a different type of loveliness that graced her; it was one of grace, pose, and refinement.

She was a resourceful woman of great influence and power that lay at her slim ruby painted figure tips. And if ever you needed something, she was the woman to go to. And Sirius Black must have wanted this desperately. With a final glance at the letter in her hands Miranda ripped the letter open and read the few simple lines that graced the parchments creamy surface.

_Miranda,_

_A dear friend of mine has just moved into town. You probably know of her. Be a dear and don't cause trouble for her would you?_

_-Oh and keep her out of the papers. If I see anything about her in there, you'll have me to answer to. _

_-Your cousin,_

_Sirius Black._

_P.s. I heard you were married…what ten years ago? Congratulations. I apologize for not writing to you sooner on the matter, I was a little tied up at the time._

Miranda rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. Now he remembers to ask. Lout. Charming, caring, lout was her cousin. Write him in May and expect a letter almost nine months later. With a shake of her head Miranda tossed the letter towards the table and watched as it floated gently to the tables smooth surface as the curiosity of who this mysterious new resident could be.


	8. Chapter Eight: Maps

Chapter Eight: Maps

_(Desperately seeking a beta for this story!!!! Message me if interested!!!)_

As the late spring sun rose high into the ever blue morning, above thick willows, graceful poplars that reached out to touch the sky with their slim limbs, the dark evergreen forest that surrounded the village of Allister Hill, and the delicate purple leaves of the blooming Japanese maples that lined the cobbled streets of the town, a sight caught the attention of several patrons of the village below. Two men, both tall and athletic and one with tawny red hair, the other with a dark shaggy mane like a sheep dog, were making their way down the path, obviously headed towards town.

"Agnes you'll never _believe _what's going on up on that hill!" called the shrill voice of Mrs. Andean Fry as she rushed into _Margot's & Magus. _Margot & Magus was owned and run by Mr. and Mrs. Margot and Magus Lestrange, two French tailors who'd long ago fled a war torn France and who had a reputation for creating the most intriguing and stunning clothing about. No one in town knew just how these two seemingly normal tailors created just magnificent and ornate pieces, it was almost as if…by magic. Of course everyone knows that there's no such thing as magic.

"Andean dear, what's happened?" cried Mrs. Agnes Bailey as she jumped down from the gold three-legged stool that she had been standing upon and rushed to her friend's side. Madame Lestrange who sat upon bended knees at the base of stool looked thoroughly put out. Gracefully standing to her full height of six feet, the willowy Madame Lestrange brushed out the nonexistent wrinkles of her pale silver gown that seemed as if it were made out of the clouds and sunlight themselves, and inclined her head towards Mrs. Fry.

"Madame Fry 'ow lovely to 'ee you again." Mrs. Lestrange said in a light voice, deeply accented.

"Madame Lestrange, do forgive me for bursting in so rambunctiously, but I simply _could not _wait till tell this piece of news." Gushed Mrs. Fry, one gloved hand pressed to her chest, the other resting on one of her rather generous hips.

"Un, 'tis no problem, please follow me to the parlor, were you might rest a moment."

Madame Lestrange said, inclining her head once again, as she led the two older women through a large gold archway and into a parlor were gilded chair upholstered in deep blues and silvery grays sat about a large round table.

The table itself was a grand site. Made of a glossy cherry wood, its surface was that of a painting, and told a most dramatic and romantic tale, one Madame Lestrange held close to her heart for her own special reasons, and one that enchanted guests with its fanciful plot. What the most valued costumers of Margot & Magus were not aware of however was that the tale the painting told was very true, and in fact the story of Madame and Monsieur Lestrange. Though both kept that little part of the story to themselves. The idea of dragons, castles, knights, princesses, and evil villains was something that only resided in fairytales. Or so many muggles, like those that lived in Allister Hill, believed.

As Mrs. Fry and Mrs. Bailey tucked themselves about the grand table that sat on a most ornate rug, strands of gold and silver woven through its delicately pale backdrop, and before the large mahogany fireplace were merry embers jumped to and fro, Mrs. Bailey covered her unfinished dress, still pinned in place, as Mrs. Fry began to speak of the occupants of the cottage on the hill, pulling off her kid skin gloves and tossing her jaunty purple hat with its large and very real hydrangea, to the table.

Mrs. Fry leaned towards her dear friend, her look haughty, her thin white eyebrows arched above her pale blue eyes. As if the news she had was grand indeed.

"Guess who was spotted trailing down from the cottage?" she whispered, as if the very mention of it would cause it to become a mere myth.

Mrs. Baileys brown eyes became wide with shock. "No." she whispered back, her plump hands covering her mouth in shock.

"Oh yes!" exclaimed an excited Mrs. Fry.

"It seems we'll finally see our cliff lairds..."

"Sirius…perhaps you've noticed as I have, that we seem to have caused a stir, mayhap we've grown wings?" Remus questioned nonchalantly, inclining his tawny head towards Sirius's dark shaggy one as they moved through the busy village, leaving stairs and whisperings in their wake.

"Yes or perhaps tails?" Sirius said and let out a gruff laugh as he caught his friends eye.

The two gentleman made there way merrily down the cobble stoned streets of Allister Hill together but were soon to part ways, as one was headed off towards a cottage near the center of town were a young lass waited in a garden lush with the first bloom of Spring, the other headed to wherever the highland air pulled him.

Spring was in bloom that day, young trees with budding leaves, and blossoms that were carried away by the gentle wind, and yet thick snow sat banked high against the old brick fence that gated the large park near the northern edge of the town were Sirius had wondered too.

For a man so alone in his life, like a wayward ship upon the clam seas of the pacific, he certainly didn't seem to notice it, or if he did to others it appeared that he was very content to be the way he was forever. And why shouldn't he? His life was not hard, there were no strained emotions, unresolved great loves of his life, he'd never had any great loves to begin with, and the desire for a great love…simply didn't appear to exist. And if it did it was so minor, like a small tap on the window, that he barely noticed it. Though lately…lately it had changed, Sirius would admit to that. As he watched his dear friend slip down the slope into the packed banks that is love, an avalanche waiting to happen in Sirius's opinion, he had started to notice the slight longing in his heart. After all a man could only be alone for so long in his life…couldn't he?

The laughter of children and the mad barking of content dogs floated through the large willows that hung like a veil near the entrance to the park, drawing Sirius towards the little haven.

Sirius was a man without a path and so for a lack of plans and with a dip of his head and a slight smile he decided to follow the slim limestone path that lead into the park. Unaware that in those perimeters made of old bricks that had long go begun to crumble, in the large park were soft hills raised the deep green grass with patches of snow still sitting bumpily upon them, were unkempt planters spilled over with large blossoming flowers, awaited his future in a most surprising fashion.

Remus looked at the cottage, his head tilted only slightly to the left. It stared back at him, unwavering and unflinching at his critical gaze, as if to say _dare you? _It was a nice cottage he decided, as he closed the gate of the front garden and made his way up the path. It was different than it was a mere two months ago, when all was covered in snow and naked limbs poked out through banks of white fluff. Now tall aspens waved and wiggled in the wind, pansies of purples, reds, and hints of orange spilled over the confines of their planters, their wide colorful heads basking in the sun as if to say _this is what happiness is. _

Remus hesitantly lifted one hand to the large knocker that sat high in the center of the raspberry painted door, but before his hand could brush the fine wood, the door was hastily opened, a woman in a cloud of pale blue cotton and a large undistinguishable ball of fluff that Remus knew to be Crookshanks standing before him.

"Remus, darling!" shouted an exciting Hermione as she threw her arms around his tall form and hugged him as if the world itself was standing still.

Remus laughed at her enthusiasm as he held her tight, her sweet smell of warm sugar and vanilla a welcome return to his senses.

Crookshanks stood sullenly at the foot of the stairs and let out a disdainful hiss. Remus glanced at the ugly beast with just as equal an ugly look.

He really did hate that cat.

"I missed you." Remus said brushing a kiss across her lips.

"I missed you too. A month really is too long." Hermione said smiling up at him, her arms laced about his neck. He was like home to her. Stable, ever standing, someone to feel safe enough with that she could be carefree and fall happily, madly, in love. The thought of love itself was slightly frightening but with Remus…with Remus it was different in the best sense of the word.

"Come on, I've got a lovely brunch set up out in the garden." Hermione said taking his hands in hers and pulled a laughing Remus through the doorway of the cottage.

Shutting the door with a bang, Remus followed Hermione's slim form through the house, her delicate hands holding his rough ones, and stuck his tongue out at the glaring cat who now watched from the top step of the stairway.

"I can't take it! I need out of this place, this stupid city and its dreary days, I'm sick of it Ron. I'm serious." Harry said exasperatedly as he flopped down onto the brown leather sofa that occupied their otherwise empty bachelor flat.

"No you're not, Sirius is in Scotland." Ron replied, his voice void of emotion and refusing to lift his head from the copy of _The Daily Prophet _that he held in his hands.

"That's really original Ron. Did you come up with that all by yourself?" Harry asked innocently, his voice a perfect pitch of sincere wonderment.

Ron, in a stunning turn did something he'd never done before; he actually folded up his paper, sat it upon the square dark coffee table before him, and looked straight at Harry.

"You have my full attention. Speak." Ron said, voice still void of any hint of emotion, positive or negative.

It had seemed lately that Ron had finally left the irrational emotions of his youth behind, most of them anyways. At times he was still as he was at sixteen, a bundle of exploding fireworks, untamed feelings, and unstable as a glass of water on a cliffside. But things had changed with time, as they always do. He had matured slightly, calmer, more patient, willing to hear both sides to a story instead of jumping to a rough idea with a thoroughly sketchy probability.

Harry chuckled and granted Ron a grin for his words. "Well…it all started when I was three-Ow! Pillows are deadly weapons, watch where you toss that thing." Harry said throwing the large foggy blue pillow back into the face of a laughing Ronald Weasley.

"I have it!" Ron said, the pillow clinched in his face, his eyes wide as he now stood straight up in the chair that sat opposite of Harry's couch. As I said, there were still times when it was as if he were sixteen again. 

"Well yes I can see that."

"I'm not talking about the pillow, I have an idea of where we can go on holiday to. You're sick of the rain. And I do admit to being more than a little sick of it myself. So what about the south of France?"

"Hmm…I like the sound of it. Keep talking." Harry said his eyebrow raised and his lips slightly puckered as he considered the idea of sandy beaches and lovely ladies.

"Or…we could go see Hermione, she should be settled by now…" Ron trailed off as he dropped his lanky form back down into the depths of the chair. It was obvious to Harry that Ron greatly preferred the latter idea.

"Well- it has been a while…" Harry said ruffling his messy hair.

"And she did say we could come up anytime we wanted." Ron added.

"Yeah…she did. But it's rainy up there. And rain…I've had enough of it mate." Harry said with an exhausted tone. "I can't take it anymore." He said emphasizing the last sentence.

"True, true…we could just casually pop up there for a week and then head to France, see Bill while we're there." Ron suggested.

It was evident that Ron's feelings for Hermione had not left, and the months apart clearly had no effect upon his heart. And so for those reasons and his own Harry agreed to Ron's suggestion. Perhaps her feelings had changed, or perhaps seeing her again would change Ron's. Harry didn't know, what he did know what that he wanted out of London as soon as possible. Even stormy Scotland was better than the drippy days of English city.

"Her-Hermione, love I've got to go" Remus said between chuckles.

"No you don't, you can stay…" Hermione trailed off as she laid small kisses down the side of his jaw.

Night had long ago fallen but the couple that occupied the white sofa in the cozy living room had not noticed the passing of time or that a million bright stars now lit the night sky instead of a fiery sun burning brightly in the mid afternoon.

They laid together on the large sofa, their bodies intertwined, Hermione's head resting in the crook of his arm, before a merry fire that warmed them to their toes, or perhaps it was the sweet kisses of first love, either way, the two didn't have to worry of how to keep the chill off that night.

The room was neither to large nor to small, but that perfect in between size. Its walls were the color of raspberries in the summer time, sweet and rich with delicate vines of gold and flowers painted upon the walls. The room looked out past the large back garden that was lush with the first blooms of spring, to the temperamental Atlantic where the waves still moodily crashed onto the sandy shore.

Photos of people laughing and loving were all upon the walls, in frames of black and soft candlelight lit the room. It was a slightly crowded room, filled to the brim with books of every kind. Bound in fabrics of every different color, to leathers the color of coal and warm amber, the books filled the black shelves of the built in bookcases that sunk into the walls slyly. There stood one couch, the one our two protagonists currently occupy, before the large fireplace, it's mantel painted a crisp white with four large purple hydrangeas each sitting in square cut glass vases upon it. On either side of the couch in question sat two fat and decidedly comfterable foggy blue chairs, a rug from the orient with rich purples, tempest blues, sweet golds, and warm honey tones laid between the couch and warm fire that night.

"I have too, Sirius doesn't know I'm here." Remus said, smiling down at her and then dipping his head to kiss her lightly, his hand caressing the side of her flushed cheek.

"That's why you should tell him." Hermione said wrapping her warms about his neck and pulling him closer.

Remus ran his hand down the side of her body, his hand flirting over every curve in her sweet body. "It's not time yet. You know that." He said.

"I know. I just…I hate this. I want to be with you. I want people to know I'm with you. Remus a month is a long time to wait to see each other. I don't want to wait another month to see you." Hermione said staring up at him.

"I know darling, but there's not much we can do. We must wait. We have plenty of time, what's the rush?" Remus said toying with a strand of her honey brown hair.

"No rush, just…love." Hermione replied, weaving her free hand through his and bringing it to her lips.

"Love?" Remus questioned, most content with her answer, a slight smile on his handsome face.

"Ummhum…love. See I think…I think I'm falling in love." Hermione said smiling back at him, a dimple in her cheek, her lips stained cherry red from previous kisses earlier that night.

"Oh really? With who?"

"With you! You prat." Hermione said laughingly.

"Oohh, well, I've already known I was falling in love with you for some time. So see, not new news to me." Remus said playfully and pulled her close for a kiss.

And so they stayed there for several more hours, till morning came and unwilling goodbyes were given, last kisses were franticly taken, as if a kiss would some how dull the ache that came from leaving the one your heart belongs too.


End file.
