There was something deliciously satisfying about thrusting a knife deep into the side of a pumpkin and slowly dragging it downwards. She was sure that realization said something about the state of her psyche, but it didn't seem to matter as a triangular wedge of pumpkin shell toppled out onto the kitchen counter. Stepping back, she surveyed her work, head cocked to the side as she held her gut covered hand away from her body. It wasn't the prettiest jack-o'-lantern in the world, but she liked it.

The sound of surging flame came from her sitting room and she glanced up at the clock on the wall. She hadn't been expecting anyone until later, and even then they would be Muggle children asking for candy at her door.

"Hermione?" a voice called and she felt herself smile.

"I'm in the kitchen, Remus," she replied as she set her carving knife aside and began the task of cleaning her hands.

"Nice pumpkin," he said and she could hear the smile in his voice. "A face like that is guaranteed to keep evil spirits at bay."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh as she dried her hands on a towel. "Shush you. I happen to think my pumpkin is quite lovely, thank you," she said before casting a quick Scourgify on the kitchen counter and a stasis charm on the pumpkin in question.

"Oh, it's beautiful. Stunning even."

Turning to face him, she gave him a level look as she untied her apron. Why did he always make it so difficult for her not to smile, she wondered as she tossed the bit of canvas over a nearby chair. She tried not to dwell on the fact that his eyes were roving over her; neither did she bring attention to it. What was the point when she knew he'd look away as if nothing had even happened?

"And what are you supposed to be?" he asked, nodding at the black dress she wore.

She glanced down, her hands smoothing over the crushed velvet and lace that clung to her slim waist and flared out at the hips. "A witch, of course," she replied with a grin, tapping the toes of her pointed shoes against the wood floor.

Her reply made him let out a snort of laughter. "Subtle."

"And what about you?" she asked, her arms crossing beneath her chest as she looked over his normal ensemble of slacks, button down shirt, and cardigan.

"An old professor," Remus replied with a shrug." I felt I could pull it off."

"A professor, yes. Old? Certainly not." She gave him her best chastising look before picking her pumpkin up from the counter and cradling it in her arms. "Will you get the front door for me?"

Remus rolled his eyes, but nodded just the same. "Honestly, Hermione, you are a witch."

Somewhere on the other side of the globe she was sure that her parents were cringing as their daughter happily handed out candy that wasn't sugar free. The was she saw it there were worse things in the world than sugar, and, besides, it was only one night out of the year. Remus sat beside her on her front step, helping to distribute candy with a smile. Her former professor had always been a man of few words, but tonight he seemed exceptionally quiet. A frown pulled at her lips as she watched the most recent group of Trick or Treaters disappear beyond her gate.

"How is Teddy?" she asked softly as she set the bowl of candy aside and rested her arms on her knees.

Remus let out a heavy sigh. "Good. He's good. Harry has him tonight. He and Ginny are taking him round for candy. I believe Ron is with them as well, dressed as Batman."

She couldn't help but snort at that mental image. "Gods, I hope Ginny got pictures of that," she muttered with a shake of her head.

Teddy Lupin was quite possibly the cutest child she'd ever laid eyes on and she loved him dearly. The fact that he seemed to embody a perfect balance of both of his parents never ceased to amaze her. His eyes were all Remus, much too old for someone his age, but his smile was Tonks through and through. Even his Metamorphagus abilities were somehow tempered with his moments of quiet concentration as he played with his toys.

Knowing that Tonks was not there to watch her son grow always seemed to hit her in the gut, throwing into sharp relief the injustice that came with war. Then there was Remus, her former professor and her dear friend. He often looked so lost and she could see the guilt eating at him, more so when he watched Harry with his son. But there was nothing she could say that hadn't already been said or that still had meaning, and she hated that most of all.

"He misses you," Remus said, pulling her from her thoughts.

Hermione let out a soft laugh as she turned to look up at him. "I just saw him yesterday."

He shrugged. "He loves his Mi. You spoil him."

"Nonsense. Dote, maybe. But spoil? Certainly not." She couldn't keep the smile from her voice.

"Whatever you say Hermione."

Midnight came with very little fanfare and he dutifully switched off her porch light and locked and warded her front door. If asked why he'd come to her instead of staying in his own home he wasn't sure if he'd be able to give a proper answer. It had just seemed like the natural thing to do. Hermione didn't require him to keep up a steady stream of conversation and it was maddeningly easy to just sit beside her in quiet contemplation. It was like the breath of fresh air that he needed.

She'd set the empty candy bowl on the table in the hall, her pointed shoes discarded beside the hall tree. It was odd seeing her as a domestic being sometimes. There was a small part of him that would always see her as his student, but the larger part would see her as this fierce creature who would protect and defend what she considered hers without even batting an eye. Seeing that same woman standing in her kitchen carving up a pumpkin while dressed as a witch was somewhat eye opening.

It shouldn't surprise him, not in the slightest. Not after seeing the way she was with his son. He'd been truthful when he'd said that Teddy loved her. He would watch in wonder as his son's face would light up when she'd come into the room and soon he'd be in her arms with his small hands gripping onto her curls. It made his heart ache and he wasn't sure why.

Hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, he made his way into her sitting room. The clock on her mantle read ten after and he let out a sigh as he moved to stand close to the fire. Winter really was upon them, he realized as the heat from the flames began to seep into his bones, and summer was well and truly dead.

"Remus."

Her voice pulled him from his thoughts and he turned to face her. She'd kept her witch's dress and had added a pair of sensible shoes, her hair had been pulled from the confines of its pins and hung wild down her back.

"Are you going to be warm enough?" he asked as he shifted on his feet.

A little smile curled over her lips. "Honestly, Remus, you are a wizard."

The night sky had turned a hazy shade of orange, the waxing moon just beginning its ascent over the distant tree tops. Bonfires dotted the hillsides and their light seemed to pulse with sympathetic magic, mimicking the last vestiges of the summer sun before winter held its sway. They were quiet as they trudged along the path, her shorter legs moving quickly to keep up with his stride. The fun of Halloween was quickly forgotten the further along they went, and Samhain descended upon them in a quiet hush.

It was odd being there with her, he thought, the both of them hoping to catch a glimpse of those they'd lost. No spell could bring back the dead, but tonight the veil between worlds was the thinnest and that was better than nothing. Maybe it was pointless, this attempt at contact, but even that knowledge didn't seem to deter them.

They can to a halt in front of twin fires. Smoke billowed up into the sky in a thick gray column, but his gaze seemed fixed on the flames and the narrow path in between them. Hermione's small hand gently gripped his elbow and he stared down at her, watching as she slipped the shoes from her feet. He wanted to say something, to tell her to put the sensible flats back on or she'd catch her death. But he knew that if he did she'd only give him a small smile as whisper 'Warming charm, Remus'. So he said nothing at all.

She released her hold on him with a light squeeze and stepped away to make her way around the pair of fires before them. It was almost surreal seeing her opposite of him now, the firelight making the material of her dress look like ink in the night. He swore that he could see the magic rolling off of her in waves, sparks even traveling down the curves and loops of her mane of hair. This was old magic and he knew it, and knowing that just made it all the more breath taking.

"It's alright you know."

The voice from beside him made him jump, a shiver going down his spine. It had been two years since he'd last heard that voice and he was afraid to even look. She could just be a figment of his imagination.

"You know I'm not. I don't have a lot of time, Remus, might as well give me a once over."

Swallowing thickly, he turned as looked down at his late wife. The color seemed to have gone from her, leaving her in only shades of white and gray. Her hair was bright magenta, he knew it was, maybe the veil had sucked all of her color away. Either way he hated that it wasn't there.

"Hello, Dora," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The spirit smiled. "Hello yourself. You need a haircut, love."

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he found himself laughing. "Haven't had the time. I've been chasing your son around."

Tonks look affronted. "My son? You helped make him if I remember correctly," she said with a laugh. "I'm glad he's giving you hell. It'll keep you young."

"Age me more like. He likes for his hair to be blue."

She nodded. "That's my boy."

Her gaze moved to the bonfires and he followed it. Hermione was slowly making her way through, the skirt of her dress clutched tightly in her hands to keep it away from the flames. It struck him them that this was the first fire she'd passed through by choice and that familiar clenching in his heart seemed to take him by surprise.

"I told you it was alright," Tonks said.

His head jerked as he turned to look at her again. "What?"

"People weren't meant to be alone. You weren't meant to be alone, Remus."

"I'm not. I have Teddy."

"Don't be dense, you know what I mean."

His mouth pulled itself into a thin line and he looked away from her and up to the sky. The moon was above the treetops now and he swore that he cold feel it growing fuller by the second. He hoped that staring at its pale light would burn away the tears in his eyes before they fell.

"You can't keep doing this, love. You can't keep coming around every Samhain hoping for a glimpse of me," she said as she laid her hand over his. All he could feel was a sudden icy chill. "Teddy needs a mum. A proper mum."

Remus found himself letting out a harsh laugh. "This is not what I imagined. Then again, I don't know what I imagined. I don't think it was you giving me permission to fuck other women."

A blast of cold air hit him them and he stumbled back.

"Idiot," Dora said through gritted teeth. "I'm telling you that it's alright to move on now, not to go on a sex spree. That is something my dear cousin would do."

He couldn't help but snort as he pulled his cardigan tighter around his waist in an effort to keep away the cold she seemed to produce in abundance. "No comment."

His late wife rolled her eyes and moved to stand in front of him. "I'll always be your wife, Remus, and I will always love you. But you can't lock yourself away. Not again."

The tears spilled then and he sucked in a shuddering breath. "I can't let you go, Dora."

"I didn't ask you to, love," she said with a soft smile. "I'll always be there, but you still have a lot more love in that heart of yours to give."

Hermione had made her way through the fire and seemed to be frozen in place. Her hands still clenched her velvet skirts and he was sure that he'd never seen her eyes so wide.

Remus felt his wife's cold hand against his once more and he was sure that she'd given it a squeeze.

"Goodbye, Remus," she said. "I love you."

His tongue felt suddenly too large for his mouth and he swallowed thickly. "I love you, Dora," he choked out as fresh tears streamed down his cheeks. "Goodbye."

Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin was standing next to her husband, talking to him. And Remus Lupin was talking back. The heat from the flames behind her served to remind her that she wasn't dreaming, that she wasn't hallucinating. It was Samhain and they had always hoped for some sort of sign from one of the many that they'd lost, but she never expected to actually see it.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Tonks was gone and Remus was making his way back down the hillside. Instinct was to run after him, to make sure he was alright, but the most she even dared to do was move away from the fire. What on earth could she possibly say to a man who'd just had a conversation with his dead wife?

She let her legs give way beneath her and she crumpled to the ground. The smell of earth and smoke filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes. Around her she could hear people moving, walking through the flames as she did, speaking to one another in hushed tones. Idly she wondered just how many of those conversations were held by those who still had a pulse, but she didn't let her curiosity sway her into opening her eyes to see.

It felt like an age when she finally opened her eyes again, and maybe it had been. The fires were slowly beginning to die down and it seemed that she was alone on her hilltop. Uncrossing her legs, she slowly stood and tried to ease the aches away from sitting so long in one place. She picked up her discarded shoes and clutched them in her hand as she made her way back down towards her house, the grass cold against her still bare feet.

The clock on her mantle struck three as she closed her door behind her, a wave of her wand locking and re-securing the wards. She was sure that Remus had gone home hours ago but when she looked up he was standing in the door of her sitting room, his sandy blond hair sticking up in various directions as though he'd run his fingers through it repeatedly.

"I was about to go looking for you," he said, his voice raw. She wondered if he'd been crying.

Hermione offered his a small smile. "Here I am," she said as she let the flats fall to the floor next to her pointed shoes from earlier.

"You saw her, didn't you? You saw Dora?"

His sudden question took her by surprise and it took her a moment to collect herself before she nodded. "Yes, I did."

Remus opened his mouth to speak again, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"I don't want to know," she said. "I don't want to know what she said to you. That was for you and I have no right to it. I'm glad that you were able to see her again, Remus."

He just stood there suddenly looking lost as he stared down at her. Slowly, Hermione moved towards him and carefully took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "I'm going to put the kettle on and make up the guest room. It's late and you need to sleep," she whispered before letting go of his hand and moving into the kitchen.

Her own hands shook as she filled the kettle and set it on the stove. Tonight seemed to be for doing things the Muggle way and she switched on the burner and waited patiently for the water to boil. She should get down cups, she told herself, and set out the cream and sugar. The trouble was that she couldn't seem to make herself move even an inch.

She swore that she could feel him enter the room before he even spoke, but she didn't dare turn around. Even through the velvet of her dress she could feel the warmth of his hand as it settled on her shoulder. His face pressed against her curls and she sucked in a breath as her eyes closed.

"I'm not staying in your guest room," he said. His hand moved slowly over her shoulder and around to her collarbone, his finger tip tracing along her skin.

"I could Apparate you home," she offered, her voice wavering as her fingers clenched the edge of the counter.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. "No. I'm not going home. Not without you."

If magic had a scent it would smell like her. Eyes closed, he breathed her in and let the smell of smoke, sage, and lavender take him over and leave him breathless. It was overwhelming and for a moment he just had to be quiet and listen to his heartbeat thrumming away in his ears. Her own heartbeat fluttered beneath his fingertips as they rested at the base of her neck, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took.

"I've been so lost for so long, Hermione," he finally managed to say and it struck him just how soft her curls were against his lips. "And I can't seem to think about home without imagining you in it."

Her shoulders shook as she swallowed. "You can't mean that, Remus. Tonks-"

"Is gone," he said, cutting her off. "She and I talked about a few things."

"I don't want to know," Hermione interjected.

"I know. It's just...just. Fuck." Heaving a sigh, he pulled back from her and gently turned her to face him. Her dark eyes were wide as she stared up at him and as a tear trailed down her cheek he reached up to gently brush it away with his thumb. "Look into my mind, Hermione."

She shook her head. "No, Remus, I couldn't do that."

"Please," he voice cracked and he hated himself for sounding so weak.

For a long time she was quiet as she stared up at him, but, finally, she nodded and whispered: "Legilimens."

Remus pulled his barriers down and laid himself bare before her, sure that he had never been more vulnerable in his life. He could feel her in his mind, gently moving from memory to memory as though she were turning pages in a book. Every emotion seemed to play over her face the more she looked and he found himself watching in fascination; it occurred to him then that she was every bit as vulnerable as he was.

Her breath came out in thick pants as she continued on and as the tears welled in her eyes he knew that she was beginning to see herself as he saw her. Artfully disheveled with lips stained with ink after chewing on the end of her quill. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as she looked over a memory of her holding his son, softly singing to him as his head rested in the crook of her neck. A moment later the tears fell and he knew she was seeing Dora, just as they both had hours ago.

Hermione pulled herself out then and let out a gasping breath as she closed her eyes. Remus found himself unsure of what to do. It was taxing having one's mind pulled apart, even when the person doing it was as gentle as she was, and he pressed his fingertips against his temples in an effort to relieve the strange change in pressure.

"Excuse me," her voice was barely audible. Without waiting for a reply, she ducked away from him and scurried out of the room.

Remus let his body fall forward, his arms resting atop the counter as he felt his tears flow once more. Not for the first did he wonder why things couldn't be easier, why couldn't he just come out and say what he felt. Everything seemed to swirl inside of him, emotions and thoughts raging in his mind like a storm, and he quickly felt overwhelmed. Knees buckling, he let himself slide to the floor and sit there with his head in his hands. Above him the kettle began to whistle, but he paid it no mind.

Hermione stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Soot was smudged over her fair skin and she was sure that all of the color had drained from her cheeks. She certainly looked like a witch now, hair a wild and tangled mess and her eyes over large and haunted. Her hands clutched a flannel cloth, her body poised to wipe away the ash and tears, but she made no move to turn on the faucet.

Everything went back to him, to the man she'd left standing in her kitchen. Gods, how could she have been so selfish? She was hiding away when she knew he was hurting, and he had shown her everything. Every little god damned thing and all she could think to do was run.

Balling the cloth up into her fist, she hurled it at the mirror and turned away. Her hands were cold as she pressed them against her cheeks and she let out a choking sob. She was braver than this, or at least she was supposed to be, but falling in love with the man in the other room had left her shaking like a leaf. The trouble was that she didn't know just when it had happened, only that it was there and she didn't know what to do about it.

Hermione let out a breath and pulled her hands away from her face only to press them to the bodice of her dress. Flying was less frightening than this, she thought then and she couldn't help but let out a harsh laugh. Her feet began to move forward, carrying out of the bathroom and through to the hall.

Remus was still in her kitchen, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back against the cabinets and the kettle cried shrilly on the stove top. Switching off the heat and pushing the kettle to a cool eye, she let herself slide down next to him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

He shifted slightly beside her. "You've no reason to be sorry."

"I ran away. Cowardice is something to be apologized for, especially...especially after doing what I did to you."

"You did what I asked you to. I didn't know how to even speak to you," he paused and let out a breath. "I hate that. I hate that I can't seem to say what I want to you without sounding like a fool."

Slowly, she reached out and placed her hand over his. He gripped her fingers tight, holding on as though she'd slip away at any moment.

"I don't think you could ever be a fool, Remus. Not in any capacity," she said, and she meant it.

They lapsed into silence, neither one making a move-either towards each other or to get up from the floor. Hermione found herself staring at her own feet. Dirt marred and grubby, they barely made it past his knees and she couldn't help but wonder if she looked foolish when standing beside him. He easily towered over her, his body slender and all sinewy strength while she was small in nearly every sense of the word.

"I think you could make me one," he said finally as his thumb moved over her knuckles. "I'm already sitting on your kitchen floor."

"Well, there is a chair just there," she pointed out, her head nodding towards the piece of furniture in question.

"See? Fool."

Giving a brief shake of her head, she let herself lean against him. The material of his cardigan felt warm against her skin and she let her eyes close as she turned to press her face against his shoulder. She could smell the smoke from the bonfires clinging to him, but underneath that it was something that was decidedly Remus; like parchment and cloves and oranges. The scent alone seemed to make her ache and she was sure that she'd never felt like that before.

Lifting her head up, she moved forward to press the tip of her nose against his jaw. The stubble scratched at her skin as she nuzzled against him and she couldn't help but wonder if he could hear her heart as it pounded in her chest; the sound was almost deafening to her own ears. He turned his face towards her, pressing his cheek against hers as his free hand came up to cradle the back of her head.

"Hermione," he whispered as he pulled back and his gaze locked with hers.

There was a small part of his mind that was quick to remind him to breathe. Had her eyes always been that dark, he wondered as he let himself become lost. Her name fell from his lips without a passing thought and she looked up at him expectantly, nodding as though she didn't trust herself to speak. Circe, he had fallen and harder than he'd expected.

Leaning down, his mouth covered hers. The kiss was tentative, both of them afraid of doing something wrong. But he let himself take a chance as he leaned into her, his fingers becoming lost in her torrent of curls. He felt her release her hold on his hand only to grip the material of his shirt as she pressed closer to him. Sage, smoke, and lavender bombarded him and he found himself shaking as he held her, his arm wrapping around her slender waist.

It was as if something had shifted between the two of them, whether it was a window opening or a dam breaking he wasn't sure, but it didn't change the fact that some sort of flood had washed over them both. The wolf inside of him picked up on the change and urged him to act upon it. Remus found it alarmingly easy to acquiesce to him animal instincts.

His arm tightened around her as he pulled her over, her legs straddling his lap. The velvet of her skirt bunched up over her thighs as she sat there, kissing him back with the same fervor he'd shown. He felt like a drowning man as he clung to her, his fingertips pressing into her scalp has he held her in place. Hell, he felt like every cliché there was in that moment and he didn't care at all.

The feeling of her tongue pressing gently against his bottom lip was nearly enough to undo him completely. His mouth opened and his tongue slipped out and over hers as a growl rumbled in his chest. A feeling of possession came over him as he pulled her closer and tore his mouth from hers, only to press it against the column of her neck. His, the wolf inside of him began to whisper over and over again, and he didn't have the presence of mind to even try and argue.

He could feel every rise and fall of her chest as he kissed her skin, her pulse thrumming beneath his lips. That feeling of vulnerability came over him again as her fingers threaded themselves through his hair. He might be kissing her, his tongue tracing over the line of her collarbone as his hand cupped her breast through her dress, but he was the one at her mercy. If she told him to stop, to leave, he would and without hesitation- no matter what the wolf said. He wondered if she knew, had any idea of the power she held over him. He wondered if she knew just how afraid he was to pull away from her.

But Hermione didn't push him away, she didn't say anything at all. Instead he felt her push her chest up against his palm and the simple action seemed to push him over a precipice he hadn't known he was standing on. Fingers gripping the top of her bodice, he yanked it down and pressed his hand against her bare flesh. A groan left him as he heard her sigh, her hips rocking against him as her nipple hardened at his touch. He could smell her then, the scent of her arousal nearly drowning out the rest of he. She did smell like magic, and this was the oldest magic in all of the world.

Hermione wasn't exactly sure just how they'd ended up in her bed. She didn't even know when he'd managed to pull her dress from her body and toss it aside, or when he'd lost his own clothes. All she knew now was the weight of him on top of her, her legs on either side of his narrow hips as he blazed a trail of kisses down her neck and chest. She arched up into his every touch, his fingers gently tugging at her nipples only to be replaced with his teeth and tongue as she whimpered beneath him.

He groaned as his finger slipped inside of her, his forehead pressing against her chest as her hips jerked forward. A second finger slid inside of her easily and he began to move, her hips rolling up against him as she tried to find that pressure she needed. Sweat began to bead on her forehead as the pad of his thumb pressed against her clit and she let out a soft cry. He was watching her now, his chin propped up against her ribcage as his fingers thrust inside of her.

In that moment she was sure that she'd never seen his eyes look like that, so dark and golden in the dim light of her room. She found herself torn, both unable to look away and yet needing to close her eyes before they rolled back in her head. A searing heat had been steadily growing inside of her the faster his fingers pumped and she knew that he was pushing her closer and closer to the edge that she so desperately wanted to fall off.

Remus shifted further down her body, his eyes still locked on her. "Look at me when you cum," he said, his voice lower than she'd ever heard it before. It was all she could do to just nod and the smile he gave her in return was almost feral; it sent a delicious shiver down her spine. His thumb moved away from her clit, but before she could even protest it was replaced by his tongue and that gave her the final push she needed. Hermione kept her eyes open as she came undone against his mouth and fingers, her gaze still locked with his.

Finally she let her head fall back to the mattress, her chest heaving as she fought to catch her breath. She felt him shift between her legs, his fingers slowly sliding out of her heat and she swore that she could hear him sucking them clean. When he kissed her she could taste herself on his lips and that knowledge only seemed to make her grow all the more wet.

His hand moved down her thigh, stopping only to grab her behind her knee and hitch her leg over his hip. Her body continued to tremble as she felt him press inside of her, the width of him stretching her out. "Oh," was all she could manage to say, her voice breathless, as she arched up against him.

"Fuck," Remus whispered as he held himself there, his eyes closed as he felt the last flutters of her orgasm fade. A moment later he began to move. It was slow at first, their hips moving in time as their hands moved over each other as if to memorize how the other felt. Then it seemed as through something broke inside the both of them and their movements became more frenzied, his thrusts deeper as she whispered over and over again that she want it harder. It was an order that he was more than happy to oblige as he pulled her leg up to rest over his shoulder.

The sound of his whispered curses did nothing but spur her own, her hips surging up against him. His thrusts were quickly becoming as erratic as her own movements and he gripped her hand, his fingers lacing with hers. As soon as her walls clamped down around him for the second time, he was spent. His body fell forward, her leg falling back down to the mattress as his face pressed against the crook of her neck and they both shook together.

Hermione's arms wrapped around his shoulders, his skin damp with sweat, and she pulled him close. It was cathartic, she realized then, holding him after what they'd shared. Turning her head, she pressed her lips against his hair and closed her eyes as she breathed him in.

Remus heard the clock chime in the other room but he wasn't awake enough to register the count. He could only surmise that it was mid morning by the amount of sunlight that seeped through her bedroom curtains. The memory of the previous night was burned into him and he found that he was more than alright with that. Turning his head, he looked down at the witch in his arms. Soot still stained her skin and he found himself mesmerized by the sprinkling of freckles that was dusted over her nose. One day he was going to count them, but today he was just content to look.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep as she pressed her face against his chest.

A smile curled over his lips as he ran his fingers through her curls. "No idea," he replied as he kissed the top of her head. "It's Feast of All Saints."

Hermione let out a soft hum in response.

"I think I've found my saint. She's made of fire and gold and smells of lavender and sage," he continued as his fingertips trailed idle patterns over her back and down the line of her hip. "I prayed without knowing it, and there she was. I don't even know what to offer her in return."

Slowly she pulled back from him and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. "Nothing. She doesn't need anything at all, and she would argue against the mantle of sainthood most fervently."

Remus couldn't help but grin as he kissed the tip of her nose. "Then let her argue away."

I hope everyone has a fun and safe Halloween weekend.

Xx