Comfort

AN/ I do not lay claim to any of the characters in this fiction.  They belong to someone else. Also there is a slight warning for those who judge harshly on age and what is right or wrong.   It is a story dealing with emotions, which are ageless. OoTP spoilers.

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Comfort-1 : to give strength and hope to : 2 : to ease the grief or trouble of

Untangling herself from the sheets for the third time in the last hour, Hermione sighed and sat up in her small bed.  Ginny lay sound asleep in the bed next to hers, a soft little snore erupting from her.  Deciding it was useless to try to sleep any longer, Hermione pulled on her house robe, stuck her feet in a pair of fuzzy slippers, and padded softly from the room.

The dark corridor seemed more ominous than it did in the daytime, though even then it seemed always shadowed, with things moving in the corners.  Hermione quickly walked to the stairs and headed down to the underground kitchen, thinking a glass of warm milk would help her to sleep.

A soft warm glow shone from under the door to the kitchen and she wondered if someone had left the light on as she pushed it open, the door creaking slightly. 

The long, once elegant table was still littered with dishes and glasses from several hours ago, when the group at number twelve Grimmauld Place had celebrated Harry's birthday. Or rather tried to.  The boy had been totally desponded.  Hermione couldn't blame him.  The previous months had been ones of despair and death and being back in the Order's headquarters did little to help him.  Harry had even joked that he would have preferred staying at the Dursleys, though she didn't think he was joking at all.

One person sat at the far end of the table. Remus Lupin, his head in his hands, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in front of him. His soft brown hair, streaked with gray, tumbled around his hands and face, glistening in the light from the lamp on the table.  He hadn't noticed her arrival and Hermione thought at first to leave him to his solitude when she heard an unmistakable sound.  He was crying.

Her heart went out to the man, knowing that his grief stemmed from the loss of Sirius.  It had only been a couple of weeks and being here, in the Black manor, had been heart wrenching for her and she could only imagine his pain, for she knew he stayed here all the time working for the Order.

She walked gingerly towards him, not sure what to say but not wanting to leave him alone.  "Remus?"  The name felt strange on her lips.  He had been Professor Lupin in her third year and using his surname now seemed too formal.

Remus' head jerked up at the sound of his name.  He squinted at her a moment, trying to register who had just spoken as the whiskey clouded his vision and thought process. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he saw the girl standing there with a concerned look on her face.

"Ah, Hermione," he said, his words slurring slightly. "Come to crash my little foray into stupor by reminding me that it isn't very mature to try to numb your problems?"

Hermione blinked her eyes in surprise.  He expected her to berate him for drinking.  She hadn't even thought about that, the man could do as he pleased and if anyone had a right to drown his sorrows it was Remus.

"No, if you want to drink that is your business," she said, sitting down in the chair next to him.  "I just wondered if you are alright."

"Right as rain.  You know me, old stoic Lupin. Care for a drink?" he asked, picking up the bottle and trying to pour the liquid into the glass in front of him.  He missed the glass entirely and the whiskey splashed on the table.

"Shh," he said, putting his finger to his lips, "don't tell Molly, but I do believe I have just made a mess."

"You are drunk," she teased lightly as she picked up a discarded napkin and wiped up the spilled liquor.

"Damn straight.  Normally don't touch the stuff," he gestured towards the bottle, "but it was a 'special' occasion.  A pity part for me, myself and I. Care to join me?" he asked with a bitter laugh.

Hermione's heart went out to him.  He had lost so much, not only his last friend of his childhood, but being ostracized from society because of his lycanthropy.  "Remus, I cannot tell you how sorry I am…"

"Save it Hermione," he said sharply.  "Everyone keeps telling me they are sorry, that they know how I must feel.  Bollocks!  Nobody knows how I 'feel'." 

"I didn't mean to be condescending…"

"No one does.  They just cannot handle seeing old faithful Lupin falling apart. Remember, I am the one that keeps it together, the sensible one, the one that was always pulling the reins on Sirius and James.  Didn't do a very good job of it that night did I?" He groaned and put his head in his hands once more.  "I should have never let him come with me, I should have put my foot down.  But no.  I am pathetic, always wanting to please, wanting everyone to be happy.  It's my own bloody fault…"

"No it isn't," Hermione said, her tone firm.  "Sirius couldn't stand being here, not helping.  You couldn't have stopped him no matter what you said to him, not with Harry being in danger.  If it is anyone's fault then it's…" She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.  

"Harry's?" he asked softly, looking at her, noting the horrified expression on her face.  Remus shook his head, running his hand through his hair.  "Don't be so hard on yourself Hermione. You are not the first one to think that way."

"It's not fair to think that," Hermione said chagrined.  "Harry didn't know. He thought he had a true vision.  He is grieving so much…"

Remus stood, his face a mixture of grief and anger.  Snarling, he picked up the bottle and flung it at the fireplace.  "Damn it!  I am the one who has the right to grieve.  No one, not Harry, no one, knew Sirius like I did.  No one knew his thoughts and desires, his fears, his needs.  Don't you understand? I loved him."

Hermione flinched at the look of anguish on Remus' face. Going over to him, she placed a hand on his arm. "Of course you did and you are right, if anyone has a right to grieve you do Remus," she murmured softly. " I only wish I could help you through your pain."

He turned to look at her, his eyes searching hers.  "I feel so damn alone," he muttered, a catch in his voice.  "Always alone."

"Everyone here cares for you," she said firmly as he hung his head, shaking it in protest.  "No one can replace Sirius, but we do care and love you."

"That's a dangerous thing." He was looking at her again, his eyes haunted.  "Everyone I love, who has loved me, has a nasty habit of dying," he said bitterly.

Hermione's voice was soothing as she touched his cheek. "I think I can say that is a chance I don't mind taking." She desperately wanted to ease his pain. He was such a noble, kind person, and she couldn't bear to see him like this.

Remus touched her hand, pulling it down to his mouth where he placed a soft kiss in her palm. Hermione felt her stomach tighten as his eyes met hers.  His soft gray eyes were now dark, filled with smoke and fire.  Instinctively she knew what he was about to do, but it still caught her off guard as he released her hand, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.  His mouth found hers and he kissed her roughly, bruising her lips with the intensity.

Hermione grasped at his robes to keep from falling as he continued to kiss her, parting her mouth with his tongue and stroking hers. 

Though she was a bit afraid, she began to return his kiss, tangling her tongue with his as her hands left his robes and moved up to encircle his neck. Her mind was racing with conflicting thoughts as she felt her body awaken to him, a warm flood filling her stomach, the warmth spreading to lower regions.

Remus' lips were everywhere on her face, raining kisses on her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose.  A small part of her wanted to protest, to stop him, yet a larger part wanted the embrace, to let him touch and kiss, to make contact with her. 'Just to let him no that someone cares' she thought vaguely, though she couldn't deny the fire spreading through her as his lips found hers once more. 

His hands untied her robe and slipped in to caress her through her thin nightgown.  He caressed her back then moved down to her buttocks, kneading her, as he pulled her tightly against his body.  Hermione gasped as she felt his arousal pressed against her belly.

"I need you," he murmured urgently, desperately, in her ear, his breath hot and wet. 

Hermione knew that he would never react this way, clinging to her in such a desperate need for touch and reassurance, had he not been drinking, had he not been in such sorrow.  Still she couldn't bring herself to push him away.   "I am not going anywhere Remus," she said gently, though her voice broke as another wave of fear and uncertainty flooded her mind.

Remus waved his wand and the thin rag rug before the hearth transformed into a thick downy comforter.  He pulled her down with him, kissing her as he pushed her back against it.

Fingers fumbled with the buttons of her gown as he opened the garment. His mouth moved from hers laying soft fluttery kisses down her neck, her collarbone and into the valley between her small breasts.

His mouth found her breast, then her nipple as he suckled gently, pulling and teasing until it was erect and hard, while his hand cupped the other one, caressing it. 

Hermione stroked his hair, knowing there would be no turning back now.  He needed this, her, and she would not reject him, though she had never imagined giving herself for the first time to a man that needed comfort. Somehow it seemed more right than waiting until she was in the throes of lust with a boyfriend.

The woman in her knew that this would be life giving to him. The act as old as time, earthy, natural, comforting, she reasoned with herself, as she felt him pushing her gown up to her hips, removing her knickers, his finger dipping down to the nexus between her legs. She closed her eyes, trying to still the anxiety of her racing heart as her body reacted to his touch.

She was not aware that he had open his own robes until she felt the heat from his firm body pressed against hers. Her eyes were still shut and she trembled as she felt his hard arousal brush against her thighs as he parted her legs with his. 

Her body tensed as she felt him press against her folds, slipping a little in.  Hermione had read enough to know that this wasn't going to be pleasant, though some of the Muggle romance novels she had read always had the woman reaching the throes of ecstasy her first time with a man.  It wasn't sensible to believe this and she opted for the more medical description of coupling the first time, pain, discomfort and do not expect much more than that unless your lover was very considerate.  This will almost be worth it, she thought hazily, get it out of the way so her next encounter, whenever and with whoever that might be, could continue the delicious, sensual feelings that Remus' kissing and stroking had stirred in her.

She felt him press in deeper, her body protesting at the intrusion in a mixture of passion and pain.  Remus gripped her hips and pulled back, then plunged hard into her.

Hermione bit her lip, trying to stifle the cry, but still a small gasp of pain escaped as tears filled her eyes.  Remus' head jerked as he heard her, his mind sobering, realizing for the first time who was beneath him, thinking she had just been a delicious dream.  My gods, what the bloody hell had he done? He looked at her, feelings of guilt and shame flooding over him.  Her eyes were bright with tears, yet he saw only honesty, concern. 

She saw it in his eyes, recognition at what was going on at last.  There was no point of stopping now, none what so ever.  What was done was done and she still wanted to let him have this.  Reaching up she stroked his cheek before reaching behind his neck pulling him down to her, kissing him as she pressed her body against his, moving her hips.

Remus felt her movements as she kissed him and he shuddered as he felt the fire course through his veins once more, desire pushing away his sudden surge of doubt. He returned her kiss hungrily, parting her mouth.  Stroking her tongue with his, his hips began moving slowly, pressing into her deeply.  Breaking the kiss he fumbled with his robes looking at her intently, his eyes smoky.  Pulling out his wand he moved it between them, placing it on her lower abdomen as he murmured a succession of spells. 

Hermione watched him curiously, though her mind was focused more on the soft, caressing movements going on in her inner body, the pain lessening, being replaced with a pleasant tingling, as Remus had not stopped his rotation of his hips against her while he cast the spells.   She vaguely recognized the contraceptus spell he cast, however the other one she could not comprehend as he repeated it three times.

A ripple went through her and she gasped, as the nerves that were already alive with the sexual stimulation seemed to magnify tenfold.   Removing his wand, he brought his mouth down on hers passionately as his hands went down to her legs, lifting them as he placed them around his waist. 

Hermione moaned against his mouth as he drove deeper into her, the sensitivity of her sex feeling like molten lava to her.  She could feel her tight, silken walls engulfing his hard member and how good it felt… and then through her hazy mind, that was assaulted with building desire as he moved more intensely within her, she realized that she was experiencing Remus' feelings and the sensations in his body as well as her own.

She was the one sucking on her lower lip, it was her manhood buried deep inside of her, the hands that caressed her shoulders, the hips that thrust faster and harder into her…the mouth that sucked and nipped at her neck, tasting the metallic drops that flickered across her/his tongue…her voice mingled with his as she murmured her name against her own ear like a soft prayer…and she was Hermione, gasping, making little whimpering sounds as she arched her hips to meet his, clenching at his shoulders as she felt an exquisite building within her that built and throbbed until she heard herself moaning his name as she felt the pressure explode…

…and she was him feeling the walls of her sex clamp tightly on his manhood, warm wetness engulfing him/her and she was him as she felt the tightening in his scrotum, shouting her own name as he spilled deep within her.

Trembling, Remus kissed her gently tasting the sweetness of her mouth, the whiskey from his own, as he too shared the exchange of sensations. Slowly he rolled off her, groping for his wand. 

He studied her a moment wondering again what the hell had he just done.  She looked so beautiful, so young, lying there.  Her eyes were still bright from the passion as she looked at him, a soft smile on her face.

His voice was barely a whisper as he used his wand to clean her, removing the blood and semen from her thighs.  She stifled a small laugh of embarrassment as she found this more intimate than what they had just shared.

Sitting up he pulled her to him, lifting her to sit in his lap as he straightened her gown. Burying his face in her neck, he tried to stifle the tremor in his voice.  "Forgive me."

He felt her hands in his hair as she tugged his face up.  Looking into his eyes she spoke softly.  "There is nothing to forgive.  I wanted to comfort you, though I had not imagined this," her cheeks flushed, "but still, I do not regret it." She raised her chin, daring him to contradict her.

Remus gave a small laugh, though it came out more of a sob as he pressed his forehead against hers.  "Then I must thank you, for you indeed offer me more comfort than I deserved."  And I took more than you would dare offer.

Kissing her lightly, he held her close as she rested her head on his shoulder. 

Remus closed his eyes as the turmoil in his soul quieted.  He would never tell her what he had done, selfishly done. He had cast the Anima Uigumus. Perhaps it would have been easier to just to submit to the death that had awaited him than to torment his spirit again.

Fifteen years had taken its toil, had almost brought him to the point of death.  He wondered how long he could last this time.

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Anima Uigumus-soul bonding