That doesn't mean I'm not sorry. It's not fair that you've had to suffer like this, it's - it's not fair that any of this happened to you. [ None of this is fair, none of it is right. War is an ugly, disgusting thing, the people they've lost crowding in her heart and making her own breathing hitch with a sad, sombre noise. She's lucky, she thinks, that she's been able to see Remus come back to her, that she can have him at her side as a friend and teacher all over again. He isn't so lucky; all the people that he had lost are dead and gone and there is nothing that she can do to bring them back. Not even here, with all the power she has.

Her fingers trail through his hair gently, stroking, comforting even as she deliberately bites back her own tears. ] That's what I thought when I first saw him too. He looks just the same. [ Leaning back, she lifts her hands to touch his cheeks, tender and gentle. ] It's not the same. Not being around them isn't the same. It's - it's the worst feeling in the world. Knowing that there's nothing you can do to make any of it better, to - to fix things.

[ And she knows she would. Hermione would exhange her life for Sirius', for Remus', for Harry and Ron and Ginny and everyone she has ever known and loved if she thought it would bring them back. When she leans forward, her forehead touches his. ]

I'm here. Talk to me, Remus, let me help you.