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[ Another full moon, another night that Hermione spends entirely awake, sitting in her basement and watching over the wolf. Padfoot and Godric are in there with him in lieu of Hermione, not wanting to turn into a lioness, still afraid of what it might mean to go back into a form that had caused such death from her own anger. It's easier for her to let the dogs in with him for now, let them move to press close and playful with Remus during the night after his careful dose of Wolfsbane and the magic of her boon.
It's early morning when she finally dozes off, exhaustion overcoming her, and she entirely forgets that she hasn't taken her dose of Dreamless Sleep.
The nightmare comes without her wishing for it. It's slow, the phasing in and out of Dorian's face, dead and gone and covered in her own bloody handprints, her fingers brushing over her friend, her hands shaken and unsure, his body dropping in front of her. Then there's the pounding of blood in her ears, the woman laughing, echoing, here and there, like there are a dozen of her, fingers twitching as she screams, shouts at her, turns; her jaw clamps around the neck of the murderer, tearing, ripping, destroying her, clawing her to shreds as punishment for daring to hurt her friend --
when Hermione wakes up she's screaming, sobbing in terror, the echo of it loud in the nearly empty basement, a shuddering noise that overcomes her. She can't stop, body twisting as she lurches, trying to fight back but losing herself, unable. ]
It's early morning when she finally dozes off, exhaustion overcoming her, and she entirely forgets that she hasn't taken her dose of Dreamless Sleep.
The nightmare comes without her wishing for it. It's slow, the phasing in and out of Dorian's face, dead and gone and covered in her own bloody handprints, her fingers brushing over her friend, her hands shaken and unsure, his body dropping in front of her. Then there's the pounding of blood in her ears, the woman laughing, echoing, here and there, like there are a dozen of her, fingers twitching as she screams, shouts at her, turns; her jaw clamps around the neck of the murderer, tearing, ripping, destroying her, clawing her to shreds as punishment for daring to hurt her friend --
when Hermione wakes up she's screaming, sobbing in terror, the echo of it loud in the nearly empty basement, a shuddering noise that overcomes her. She can't stop, body twisting as she lurches, trying to fight back but losing herself, unable. ]
[ He's already happy...
It makes her smile. All of this is a bit strange, a little unsettling, but there's something about him that makes her breathe out and relax. He's promised to teach her, to take care of her, an exchange of power and friendship -- and she's debating how much she can trust herself to be around him without wanting to give in to the urge to have companionship with him.
No one has ever made her feel like she was worth marriage before, after all. Even she and Ron had been complicated, strange, and it twists inside of her and makes her pause, wondering, before she nods her head. It's easy to tuck the ring into her pocket, deep into the depths sewn into her dress, before she raises an eyebrow and looks at him. ]
Thank you, Gilgamesh.
[ The idea of being in his arms, though... She pauses, careful, eyes up and down. It's been a long time since she's curled up with anyone, a long time since she let herself be embraced, especially for something as simple as just companionship. She and Harry fell asleep together once, her eyes damp from her own sadness, and since then it's been a rare occurrence. She breathes out, careful, before she moves forward.
Slowly, ever so slowly, careful and trusting, she lets herself slip into his arms.
He's warm. He's there, and he promises to look after her. Had given her a ring to show it. Had promised her friendship, companionship, had been teaching her... And it was. Easy. Nice. ]
Just for a little while.
It makes her smile. All of this is a bit strange, a little unsettling, but there's something about him that makes her breathe out and relax. He's promised to teach her, to take care of her, an exchange of power and friendship -- and she's debating how much she can trust herself to be around him without wanting to give in to the urge to have companionship with him.
No one has ever made her feel like she was worth marriage before, after all. Even she and Ron had been complicated, strange, and it twists inside of her and makes her pause, wondering, before she nods her head. It's easy to tuck the ring into her pocket, deep into the depths sewn into her dress, before she raises an eyebrow and looks at him. ]
Thank you, Gilgamesh.
[ The idea of being in his arms, though... She pauses, careful, eyes up and down. It's been a long time since she's curled up with anyone, a long time since she let herself be embraced, especially for something as simple as just companionship. She and Harry fell asleep together once, her eyes damp from her own sadness, and since then it's been a rare occurrence. She breathes out, careful, before she moves forward.
Slowly, ever so slowly, careful and trusting, she lets herself slip into his arms.
He's warm. He's there, and he promises to look after her. Had given her a ring to show it. Had promised her friendship, companionship, had been teaching her... And it was. Easy. Nice. ]
Just for a little while.
Excellent! As soon as I get the time, I will write up that letter for Lady Flora, and if a bird will not bring it, Kiga and myself will visit.
[Though right now, Pod doesn't expect to have time anytime soon. There are so many animals that need her help.]
[Though right now, Pod doesn't expect to have time anytime soon. There are so many animals that need her help.]
"You saved me," he tells her, and his hand finds a place over her palm. "So we're even. Right?" He smiles for her. He doesn't know what is happening in her head, but he knows he wants to protect her from it. He wants to keep her with him, instead of trapped inside her own head.
"I didn't," she says, shaking her head. "I was the one - it was my hand, she made me..." She swallows, shifting closer, staring at him. It's as though she wants to make sure, without doubt, that he is alive and well, that he isn't going anywhere. She knows she's going to have nightmares about this for a long time and keeping her eyes on him will keep those at bay for as long as possible. "I didn't just... Just kill her. I destroyed her - I should've... I..." She shakes her head, tucking herself against him slowly.
"No," he tells her again, and now he takes her hand in hers and squeezes it. "Whatever your hand did, if your will wasn't in it, then it wasn't you."
He breathes, quiet and soft. But breathing even so, as he wraps his arms around her. "I saw the remains." Like a wild animal had savaged it. He understands now what it meant.
"You're my friend, Hermione. Always will be."
He breathes, quiet and soft. But breathing even so, as he wraps his arms around her. "I saw the remains." Like a wild animal had savaged it. He understands now what it meant.
"You're my friend, Hermione. Always will be."
Hermione lets herself press against him, his warm body more than enough to keep her warm even as chills of fear and sadness run through her. It takes a moment for her to blink back her tears, fresh despite her stoic, pained calm, and she swallows, slowly. She doesn't want to talk about it, not really, but she feels like if she doesn't she'll end up suffocating on all the words, heavy and thick in her throat, like trying to swallow paste.
"I don't want to close my eyes. When I do I just see her. Not just the woman but Adela, you, all of it. You didn't deserve that and neither did she." The implication that Hermione might have, considering what she had done, goes unsaid, but she breathes out. No one deserved that, surely? No one.
"I love you," she tells him after a few long moments of silence, her hand moving down to grip at his shirt. "Are you going to stay with me tonight? Please?"
"I don't want to close my eyes. When I do I just see her. Not just the woman but Adela, you, all of it. You didn't deserve that and neither did she." The implication that Hermione might have, considering what she had done, goes unsaid, but she breathes out. No one deserved that, surely? No one.
"I love you," she tells him after a few long moments of silence, her hand moving down to grip at his shirt. "Are you going to stay with me tonight? Please?"
[Even with the spell, the transformation to wolf and back to himself is still incredibly painful, and Remus allows himself to collapse in a boneless heap on the floor once it is done, tugging an old blanket Hermione had supplied earlier over himself to preserve his dignity. A night of transformation is anything but restful, and so Remus finds himself tumbling headlong into a deep and dreamless sleep, not bothering to register that Hermione is right there beside him and that sometimes she would encourage him out of the cage and up to bed at this point.
Not even Remus, bone-weary as he is, can sleep through the sounds of Hermione's screaming, however, and he wakes with a start, his heart pounding, suddenly on edge. Oh god, what has he done? For that is the first thought that comes to mind, waking to such sounds after a night of the full. He pays no heed to his weariness or his current state of undress (save for the blanket) or the two dogs, gathering beside him and looking very confused by the situation - he throws himself towards the bars and his young friend.]
Hermione...!! Hermione, what is it? What's the matter? [He can feel his heart pounding in his chest.]
Not even Remus, bone-weary as he is, can sleep through the sounds of Hermione's screaming, however, and he wakes with a start, his heart pounding, suddenly on edge. Oh god, what has he done? For that is the first thought that comes to mind, waking to such sounds after a night of the full. He pays no heed to his weariness or his current state of undress (save for the blanket) or the two dogs, gathering beside him and looking very confused by the situation - he throws himself towards the bars and his young friend.]
Hermione...!! Hermione, what is it? What's the matter? [He can feel his heart pounding in his chest.]
"I taught a friend to play piano once," Hermione says in reply, breathing out. "We were on the run and hiding in an old friend's house and he just kept hitting the keys too hard. No gentleness, that prat, honestly, but he started to pick it up eventually. It was nice to have something to take our mind off the war and all the trouble we were getting ourselves into, even for a little while." She strokes her hand over his back absently. "Maybe I could find us one and we could play together."
"There's one in the music room." And softer, as he feels his stomach fall out. "Kelsi found it, months ago." Dorian hides his face in Hermione's hair, and she doesn't know how grateful he is, how glad. How happy he was to see a mutilated corpse of some stranger, and not to find another dead friend. "I'd love to play with you."
Her breathing hitches a little and she nods her head, eyes closed as she presses closer. They're both suffering, she knows that, and it's not fair of her to draw comfort from him when he might need it just as much. Her arms are tight around him, now, tighter, her head tucked under him even as she squeezes her eyes shut. Images flicker and they open again, wary and unfocussed. "Then we'll go one weekend. We can have tea together and then play something, a bit of a change from all the hard work."
Something catches in her breathing, a soft, sad noise dropping from her lips and she shakes her head, leaning back to draw him close, their foreheads touching. Her eyes are still damp, her hands a little shaken as she touches his shoulder, drawing soft brushes of her thumb over him. "I'd do it again. For - for you, for my friends, I... I'd do it again. I won't let anyone hurt you if I can help it. I don't care." She does care, of course she does, no matter what she says otherwise, but she wants to pretend that she is cold enough to not feel the agony of it.
No!
[ She jerks back from the voice, her own desperate as she slips and snaps awake, her eyes flicking around with desperation, not wanting to face what might be there. She looks at her hands and swallows when she doesn't see blood, lifting them to card through her hair, each breath coming in hard and fast - it's as if she had run a marathon, exhaustion seeping into her and making her swallow the lump in her throat, shifting to push herself back against the wall.
It takes a little while for her to realise that it was Remus that called for her and her eyes turn, her expression petrified before she realises what's happening. Slowly, she pushes herself to her feet, ignoring the pounding fear that she can feel inside before she steps over, unlocking the cage and letting the dogs come to her side, snapping towards her - they want to help, she knows, but she's scared to touch them, as if she might hurt them or damage them somehow. Instead, she just smiles shakily at Remus. ]
Just a bad dream. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.
[ She jerks back from the voice, her own desperate as she slips and snaps awake, her eyes flicking around with desperation, not wanting to face what might be there. She looks at her hands and swallows when she doesn't see blood, lifting them to card through her hair, each breath coming in hard and fast - it's as if she had run a marathon, exhaustion seeping into her and making her swallow the lump in her throat, shifting to push herself back against the wall.
It takes a little while for her to realise that it was Remus that called for her and her eyes turn, her expression petrified before she realises what's happening. Slowly, she pushes herself to her feet, ignoring the pounding fear that she can feel inside before she steps over, unlocking the cage and letting the dogs come to her side, snapping towards her - they want to help, she knows, but she's scared to touch them, as if she might hurt them or damage them somehow. Instead, she just smiles shakily at Remus. ]
Just a bad dream. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.
"If I have your word."
Perhaps they do not sleep well, but they do sleep. And it is a good rest for Dorian: one of those evenings when you forget, when you wake with not even the memory of the emotion that haunted you. When you are at peace. His face turned to the light of the window, he smiles at the sun.
Then he remembers.
Dorian sees to it that they have breakfast ready for when they are properly put together: food, tea, everything. He waits until Hermione has eaten a little, wanting to see that she is at least a little looked after, before he starts.
"Hermione? There's something else we need to talk about. It's about Gilgamesh."
Perhaps they do not sleep well, but they do sleep. And it is a good rest for Dorian: one of those evenings when you forget, when you wake with not even the memory of the emotion that haunted you. When you are at peace. His face turned to the light of the window, he smiles at the sun.
Then he remembers.
Dorian sees to it that they have breakfast ready for when they are properly put together: food, tea, everything. He waits until Hermione has eaten a little, wanting to see that she is at least a little looked after, before he starts.
"Hermione? There's something else we need to talk about. It's about Gilgamesh."
Hermione doesn't sleep well. She doesn't wake up, comforted by the bracket of Dorian's body, but it feels like she barely slept at all, a few stolen hours even as the morning light draws her out of a doze. When she blinks the sleep from her eyes it's to panic - at least until she reaches out and remembers he's there, that he hasn't left, that nothing has happened to him and that Dorian is safe.
She eats breakfast like she's picking at it, cross-legged on one of the armchairs she had brought in from her tent, tearing off little pieces of toast before she looks over at him. Slowly, something seems to dawn on her and she swallows, putting her food down and pushing her tea to one side before she breathes out.
Dorian has a magical contract with Gilgamesh - he had been there, had been concerned for her... Did he know?
"I didn't say yes!" She says, quickly, before her cheeks go pink. "If - if that's what this is about. I didn't say yes at all."
She eats breakfast like she's picking at it, cross-legged on one of the armchairs she had brought in from her tent, tearing off little pieces of toast before she looks over at him. Slowly, something seems to dawn on her and she swallows, putting her food down and pushing her tea to one side before she breathes out.
Dorian has a magical contract with Gilgamesh - he had been there, had been concerned for her... Did he know?
"I didn't say yes!" She says, quickly, before her cheeks go pink. "If - if that's what this is about. I didn't say yes at all."
She stares, her face paling a little before she swallows, scooting back on her chair.
"... This isn't about the proposal, is it?"
She grabs at her tea quickly, leaning over and taking a long drink, as if to distract herself. If she wasn't in trouble before then she is, most certainly, in trouble now.
"... This isn't about the proposal, is it?"
She grabs at her tea quickly, leaning over and taking a long drink, as if to distract herself. If she wasn't in trouble before then she is, most certainly, in trouble now.
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