Chapter 55: Under the Milky Way
The fire was warm and inviting, but Remus turned away and headed toward the portrait hole and out into the corridor. What little heat the stones had absorbed during the day had long since drained, leaving him shivering before he had reached the base of the first set of stairs; he should be back in the common room on such a night.
He told himself he was just doing his prefect rounds, that there was nowhere in particular he was heading. It was a lie. He knew full well where his feet were taking him: To Hermione.
She was leaving. Any day now, any minute, she could be taken from him, sent back to her own time. The thought sent a chill through him more jarring than the freezing wind that whipped through the corridor. He couldn't let that happen. He knew there was no Remus waiting there for her safe return, so the only way they would be together was to convince her not to go. The cold fear seized him at the thought that she might not be willing to throw away all she knew for him. As he stood petrified by the thought of her refusing him, students began filing past. They hurried by, their cloaks pulled tight against the wind and chill. Professor Sinistra followed, offering the barest of nods she always gave to the students who had dropped her class after it was no longer a requirement.
Hermione had not been among the students scurrying from class and minutes passed without her following the professor. It was unthinkable that the girl would have skived off, which left him with the horrifying thought that Hermione was alone with someone else beneath the romantic blanket of stars.
Spurred by his fears, Remus ran up the remaining steps, bursting out into the clear night.
The wind that had pulled at his clothes and nearly thrown him to the floor was but a gentle breeze on the exposed roof of the Astronomy Tower. Charms kept the brunt of the weather at bay; even the air here was warm and pleasant, allowing him to stand by the door and watch his girlfriend by the light of the red-glass lanterns that bathed the crenelated rooftop. Relief washed over him at the sight of her. She was alone, studying the night skies.
He wondered if she even realised class had been dismissed. She was never one to ignore anything a professor said, even passing comments muttered in undertones of annoyance, but there were moments when she was so caught up in her thoughts that it was like she was alone in the room. It was one of the idiosyncrasies he so loved about her, her ability to tune out everything in the world and focus so single-mindedly on something that she found riveting but which would drive others mad with boredom. He could spend hours just watching her read, and he had.
He watched her now as she looked up at some constellation or star cluster, and as he did a thought began to buzz around his head. 'Why is she trying so hard?'
There was no denying she was brilliant and had an insatiable curiosity, but why try so hard? He had watched her spend hours researching topics for class, pouring more details into her essays than the rest of Gryffindor combined. What did it get her? She occasionally was given a few extra points, but she barely seemed to notice those. She was not competitive. Even if she were, there was no one in their year that could hold a candle to her. It made no sense. It was time she could have put into reading in the Restricted Section, into finding a way home. Moreover, once they knew the spell to get back, Dumbledore would likely ensure little time had passed between the moment they left and when they would return. She would have to resit every exam, rewrite each essay, and knowing her she would reread every book just to make certain her facts were absolutely accurate. All this work she was putting in was wasted effort.
'Unless…' he thought, a smile pulling at his mouth, as he dared to hope.
Unless she meant to stay. It was a thought he had not considered. Perhaps, knowing what he was, knowing he couldn't survive for them to meet again, she had already decided to stay with him.
'No,' he insisted. 'She's probably just too stubborn to do poorly."
He watched her now, working so hard after even the teacher had retreated back to her warm quarters. The girl's gaze alternated between her book and the brass telescope. Her hand moved frenetically across her parchment before taking another look at the heavens. She looked displeased, as if the constellations had deliberately shifted for the sole purpose of irritating her. And perhaps they had, though clearly not to annoy her specifically. Some twenty or more years would have passed since she last studied the stars. There might very well be a star or two that existed now that would not where she was from. How long would it take a star to fade, he wondered; the light, he knew, had travelled unimaginable distances to reach their eyes. The pinpricks they saw in the fabric of night were actually images of stars as they had burned hundreds of thousands of years ago, or just a few thousand depending on which theory of the universe one subscribed to. Remus didn't care either way. He just knew they were beautiful and ancient, which was more than enough for him.
As he watched Hermione, he began to think of her as one of those stars. She was something that ought to have been viewed through a magic lens, an image of something far off, beautiful and untouchable. But she was here, brilliant and beautiful, making him burn with such intensity he felt he might die.
"Remus?"
The boy blinked. "Uh, hullo."
"What are you doing here?" She smiled, and he was melting.
"I, uh, thought I would keep you company."
He moved closer despite the sceptical look she was offering him. This visit was rather odd. He had never met her after any of the classes she had without him. There was no point since she nearly always walked directly to the library; he simply waited for her there. She appeared to be thinking the same thing, but was too polite to say anything about it.
"So," he said slowly, searching for something to talk about. "What are you still doing here? It's not getting any warmer."
Her eye had already returned to the stars. "Hm? I'm trying to discern the binary stars."
Remus studied the small brass telescope, identical to the one he had used when he took Astronomy. They were powerful enough for studying the craters of the moon but hardly capable of seeing twin stars. "Did you charm it?"
"Yes, it's much more powerful and so much smaller than all the telescopes Muggles are using." She beamed at her accomplishment. "I can see things they won't be discovering for another ten years! If I reported these findings, I could be a household name – like Hubble or Huygens or Sagan." She offered a small giggle of delight at the idea. Remus could only smile and nod, not recognising any of the names she had listed.
"What constellation are you studying?" he asked as he turned his eyes skyward. Even without a telescope, he had a grand view. The nearest Muggle village was miles off, leaving only dark countryside and nothing to interfere with the creamy line of the Milky Way stretching from horizon to horizon. He wanted to share the beauty of it with Hermione, but her face was back in the textbook again. "Hermione?"
"Oh, Canis Major," she said distractedly.
Canis Major. The Great Dog. Brightest star: Sirius, the Dog Star. The information ran through his head in the undulating voice of Professor Sinistra. His previously romantic notion of the stars dimmed with the idea of his girlfriend staring at Sirius' star.
"Why that one?"
"It has a binary star," she said as if it were obvious. "I've been able to see three others, but I can't differentiate A from B with this one."
Remus glanced down at the book in her hands. It wasn't her textbook; that had been abandoned on the low arrow slit nearby. This was yet another book from the library. He doubted Sinistra was even teaching binary star systems to the class, which meant the study of them, and of Sirius, was all her own doing and desire. There hadn't been a moment since he met the girl that he ever suspected she might potentially fancy Sirius, but he couldn't help the stab of jealousy.
"You know a lot about the, uh, Dog Star," he commented.
"A fair bit," she agreed, not noticing the strange tone he hadn't quite managed to hide. "It's hard not to, it appears so often in literature and myth. It's amazing how many cultures associate it with dogs and the madness of summer, despite it being visible in the winter and spring months. Strange, really. Unless it's the absence that was supposed to bring about madness." She looked up and finally saw the sickness touching his face. "What is it?"
"You know an awful lot about Sirius."
"Wait… Are you jealous? Of a star?"
"No, of Sirius."
"You do realise they aren't the same thing," she replied with a small and condescending smile.
"I don't have a star. I don't have any of what he has," he muttered. He didn't have the ancient line and the wealth that came with it. He didn't have the handsome face. He didn't have a future, not with her, not even on his own.
The girl sighed and pulled his face down so their eyes were level. "'Remus is said to have been the first to receive an omen: six vultures appeared to him. The augury had just been announced to Romulus when double the number appeared to him. Each was saluted as a king by his own party.' Shall I go on? I have the entire founding of Rome memorised. Livy may be sparing on the details, but he knows how to tell a good story."
Remus knew the words were accurate. He had sought out and all but memorised the ancient story after finding it had been the source of his name. "How long have you known that?"
She only shrugged and smiled.
"But w—?" The question was put to an abrupt end when she pulled him closer still and kissed him, apparently tired of his self-doubt and irrational jealousy. Remus couldn't say he minded much. There were few things in life that he enjoyed as much as he did kissing Hermione, and it was a passion he fully embraced as she dropped her book and pressed against him.
As his hands wandered, his enjoyment was dulled by the smell rolling off her. There, filling his nostrils, was the acrid stench of fear. It was an aroma he hadn't smelt in months, not since their first kiss in October when Hermione still refused to admit she liked him out of some worry about her old boyfriend in Johannesburg. Knowing she wasn't actually from South Africa, he couldn't quite imagine what she had been afraid of. Whatever it was, it was back on Hermione's mind and growing in priority if the intensity of the smell was any indication.
She pulled away from him. When she spoke, her voice shook, "Remus."
'Fuck, here it comes.' He cringed. She was going to break up with him. He knew it couldn't last.
"Remus," she said again, her voice no more steady than a moment before. "I am going to be blunt, okay?"
Too worried about what would escape his mouth if he tried to speak, he could only nod his acceptance.
"I want you to take off your shirt."
"What?"
"I can't stand this anymore. I am tired of being subtle and dropping hints. You are too thick for your own good. Take off your shirt," she ordered, her hands began to tear at the clasp of his cloak.
The boy could only stand there, dumbfounded, as her nimble fingers released the clasp and set to work on the buttons of his shirt. He had to be hallucinating. The pain of her breaking up with him had to have sent him reeling into a delusional state where the girl wanted to sleep with him. That made much more sense than her actually wanting him. It took the feeling of her cool hands on his bare skin to wake him up. "You want to… with me… Really?"
"Yes! Shirt. Off. Now." She pushed him away and threw down her own cloak.
Still not quite comprehending the situation into which he had stumbled, he stood motionless as she wrenched the hem of her jumper up and over her head, laying bare her torso save the lacy white bra, which somehow managed to be both demure and provocative.
"Don't just stand there."
He scrambled to follow her command; his skin erupted in gooseflesh as his shirt fell away and the chill of the night touched him or perhaps it was from seeing so much of her – the scattering of freckles on her bare shoulders, the smooth curve of her waist, the long line of her neck which he had forever wanted to kiss but had always been hindered by her shirts and jumpers. He attacked the soft skin, taking his mouth to it with all the need he had barely been keeping back. Hermione did not complain.
Kissing Hermione's mouth was no longer the greatest thing he could imagine. Kissing her neck, now that was the best, for it left her mouth free to make the most delicious noises, noises that set his blood racing and made him desperate to rid himself of his constricting trousers. He didn't care if he looked overly eager; he shoved the twill down his legs and kicked his trousers away toward the growing pile of clothes. Hermione's skirt, shoes and knee socks quickly joined them. After that, Remus was rather slow in adding any more items to the pile, though not for lack of desire. His fingers had gone numb at the sight of his girlfriend in nothing but her underthings; all the blood that kept them functioning had rushed from his hands to a far more demanding extremity.
"Oh, Merlin," he whimpered, swallowing hard to bring moisture to his suddenly barren throat.
"Remus?"
Her voice was thick with need but still managed to sound concerned. It was the last straw, the one that broke him. He shuddered and groaned and felt the sticky wetness spread across the front of his pants.
"Remus, did you just—?"
He moaned in embarrassment. He had no words. He was humiliated. It was the Naked Great Hall Incident multiplied by his worst nightmares and compounded with his deepest insecurities. If he could shrivel into dust and blow away, he would. Daring to glance at Hermione, he saw her smile and blush prettily. "Why are you smiling?"
She bit her lip in the way that always made him lightheaded. "Just from looking at me," she smiled and looked pointedly down at his pants. "That is the single greatest compliment I have ever been given. And you're still ready."
"I can't help it with you this close," he admitted. "Can't tell you how much it hurts to be near you."
"Well, I think you've suffered long enough. We both have," she breathed. Her nimble fingers made quick work of removing the last of their garments, throwing them thoughtlessly away and leaving naked skin flush against naked skin.
It was perfect. The most glorious feeling he had ever experienced. He didn't want to move, but need had them shifting and sliding and sinking down until she lay beneath him on a bed of their discarded cloaks. The sight of her laid out before him, her skin bare and creamy, had feelings churning in him that he had been fighting for longer than he cared to admit. Amorous, yes, but also the basest desires. The wolf was stirring. It growled and urged him forward, demanding he claim the flesh she had offered, take her and thrust until she screamed, break her and make her beg.
"No!" Remus threw himself off her, scrambling back as if she had burned him.
"Remus?" She reached out to comfort him.
He shrunk back against the wall, clutching his knees to himself. "Stay back! I can't be trusted."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'll hurt you." He looked into her soft brown eyes and tried to communicate all that he meant, but she kept inching closer. "Please. I want you. I can't tell you how bad I want you, but I can't. He's too strong."
Kneeling before him, she prised his hands from his knees and took them into her own, stroking the white knuckles against her cheek, nuzzling the clenched fists until they slowly began to relax. She let the skin brush gently across her lips, her warm breath serving to loosen his terror further. As she held his hands, she offered no words of comfort or reassurance and instead let her touch say all that needed to be spoken. It worked. He didn't want to, but his fingers moved to brush her face, caress her neck, cup her breasts.
A shaky breath escaped his lips as he touched her, his eyes rising to meet hers.
"I'm not afraid of him," she promised.
"I can't—," he started, but she kissed his weak protest into silence.
"Perhaps if you never have control, he can't steal it from you," she suggested as she pushed him down onto the bare stones. "Do you mind that I'm bossy?"
He gasped and bucked as her hips rolled against his. "Not one bit!"
"Good," she smiled and kissed him hard, taking over his mouth and body, and not allowing the wolf any room to subjugate either of them.
Looking up at her, he felt like he was in heaven. Hermione certainly looked like an angel, the wings of the Milky Way jutting out from her smooth shoulders as if she were about to take flight. That image came to him some time later as they lay breathless together on the stones, and a chill ran through him. She was taking flight, though no one had told her yet.
"Hermione," he said tentatively, hoping she was asleep. The girl hummed a reply, too exhausted to verbalise a real answer. "I, uh, talked to Harry earlier. He and Dumbledore… they… they found the answer."
"What?"
"He can send you home." He dug his nails into the mortar of their makeshift bed to keep from slapping himself for mentioning it, for ruining this wonderful moment. He wondered if she had heard him; she was taking so long in answering. Finally, he dared to look at her. She looked desolate, as if he had just told her he didn't love her. Remus fought a smile. He had never thought he would be happy to have a girl look so disappointed while lying naked beside him.