[Remus reaches up to take her hand in his own, squeezing her fingers tight, as if anchoring himself to the here and now. The harp music in his head swells, and he feels as if he might be swept away with it, if not for her hand on his shoulder, her steady gaze, and her calming presence. She's asking him to trust her. And she's already proven herself a thousand times over to him, trusting him, making his potions for him, giving him a place to stay during the full moon, being there to care for him afterwards. It's the least that he can do for her.
So he gives in. And gives her what she's asking for. The answer to what's troubling him, even if he hardly believes that she's prepared to hear it.] I loved him, Hermione. Sirius. We were... [He trails off, shaking his head at her, although he keeps her gaze and hopes that she understands what it is that he hasn't said. Hoping that she will understand in general. What is this harp music doing to him...]
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So he gives in. And gives her what she's asking for. The answer to what's troubling him, even if he hardly believes that she's prepared to hear it.] I loved him, Hermione. Sirius. We were... [He trails off, shaking his head at her, although he keeps her gaze and hopes that she understands what it is that he hasn't said. Hoping that she will understand in general. What is this harp music doing to him...]