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Hermione Black was, in many ways, a very odd witch.

Her mother had told her often that she was conceived from magic, that she was to be the new Morgana, a savior to the magical world. How much of that was true, however, was a different story. The young witch had no father and was seemingly born out of wedlock, but was welcome in a family of known blood purists. She sometimes wondered about her blood status, having vague recollections of being called a Mudblood and felt a phantom pain on her forearm whenever the word was used in her presence.

There was also the lack of a star name that tipped Hermione off to the oddity of her birth. When asked her mother would tell the curly haired witch that she was named for the Greek wizard who convinced the world he was a god, and that was all she got.

Still, Hermione tried her best to blend in. She was sorted into Slytherin the year her cousin Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, the first time any of her family had been placed anywhere besides the house of Salazar. Dromeda, her favorite cousin who was in her final year during Hermione's first, had advice for her almost immediately.

"Loving Sirius is fine," she had said, "and not believing what the rest of the family is fine, as well. Merlin knows I don't believe in the blood purity shit they try to shove on us, but your safety is more important than making that known while you're in school. Sirius can defy his parents all he wants-his dorm mates aren't spying on him. You have to be careful, my little snake, and since you've been placed here, I have no doubt you'll be just that."

Andromeda proved her point by safely escaping their family once she left Hogwarts, running into the arms of a Muggle-born that Hermione had found rather helpful with Charms work her first year. As much as she missed her cousin, Hermione was happy for her, and she was downright thrilled when the photo of baby Nymphadora made it's way into her owl post one morning.

Over the years, Hermione kept a casual distance from both Sirius and Regulus. She was polite to both in public, a tad warmer to Sirius in private, but she largely kept to herself. Her circle of friends was small, limited to a few Ravenclaws she studied with and a casual kind of acquaintance with the girls she shared a room with, but that was fine with her. People referred to her as aloof often enough, and her family was notorious for believing themselves to be better than everyone, so her behavior wasn't too surprising.

There was an exception, however: Remus Lupin.

The quiet boy had been drawn to her cousin Sirius, and in the beginning she was just trying to keep an eye of her family. Both Potter and Pettigrew came from good families, though the Potters were blood traitors and the Pettigrews weren't particularly relevant, but Lupin was a half-blood and there was something off about him.

But the casual watching she did turned into something more over the years. She admired his intelligence and his determination, and his ability to always be noticeably absent whenever he should have been caught red handed. He was clever, but he was hiding something and she needed to figure it out.

By the time the two had been paired together in Ancient Runes third year, she had a fairly good idea of what that secret was. Hermione was, after all, a Black, and they knew their dark magic and dark creatures. Though, why on earth werewolves were considered dark and dangerous when they were a danger somewhere around 3% of the year, she didn't know. Regardless of how the Ministry classified him, he was the nicest boy she had ever met.

Somehow, that spring, she had managed to rope him into being her study partner for exams. He had tried to talk her out of it, saying much about their houses and her family, but she just gave him a look. "You're smart," she had told him, "You're strengths in this class are the spots I need to improve. I'm a Slytherin for a reason, Lupin. I know how to take advantage of a good opportunity."

So she did, and by the time they returned in the fall he had been the one to suggest that they continue studying together. Her heart soared.

It has expanded to encompass more than just Runes, by this point, and often the two of them would go off the topic of schoolwork. Hermione knew that Remus would never see her as more than a friend, but she was thrilled to have even that. He was intoxicating; every fiber of his being screamed to her that he was hers. It was as if she had been drugged with a love potion, because he was on her mind every second of every day.

Full moons were the worst.

She would watch as he got ill as the moon waxed and then disappeared for a few days around the full moon itself. His excuses about a mother that was sickly were weak at best but she never let on that she didn't believe him. It was his secret, whether she had figured it out on her own or not, and if he wanted her to know than he would tell her.

But it was at a Slug Club dinner where she meet Belby, a Ravenclaw a few years above her with a skill for potions. Seated next to one another, they had gotten to talking, and Hermione had been fascinated by the theoretical work he had already done for what he called Wolfsbane. Belby had been surprised at her lack of prejudice against werewolves due to her family name, but she had just smile and laughed when he brought it up. "We're not all crazy, you know," she had whispered to him, hidden by the nose in the room. "I'm more like Sirius and Andromeda than I let on."

Which is how she got to helping him over the next year and a half with the brewing portion of the potion. His family name wasn't well known, and their vaults weren't overflowing like those of the Blacks. Had they not started a partnership, he would have had to wait years to be able to afford some of the ingredients he needed for the potion.

A month before her OWLs and his NEWTs, they did it. They found a way to let a werewolf keep their mind when they transformed. They sent it off to the Ministry for review and to get it patented. It was approved, though the knowledge wasn't widespread. No one wanted to admit that two child had gotten farther than anyone else in finding a solution to lycanthropy. It wasn't a cure, but the two brewers remained in contact, discussing ways that they could turn it into one. They couldn't do much with her away at school for the next two years, but much of the theory for the cure had to be worked out before they could do anything else.

It was with this all in mind that she approached Madame Pomfrey the day after the sorting in sixth year.

"I want to do some mixture of experimental brewing and Healing with my life," she had told the Matron. "Long term, I want to cure things-Dragon Pox, Spattergroit, lycanthropy. I'm working on the last one now, but I need basic knowledge of Healing before it goes any further."

"You would have to sign something about confidentiality. The safety of those in my care come first," was the hesitant response that Hermione had received.

"If this is about Re-Lupin, I already know. He's why I was so invested in Wolfsbane," the younger witch had said, a slight blush on her cheeks, "I was hoping I could also use this as a discreet way to provide it for him."

Pomfrey had wanted to know if Remus knew any of what Hermione was telling her, but the girl just shook her head at the questions. "We're friends," she had said, "and I am just happy to get to have that."

This of course, is how Hermione was the only one in the Hospital Wing when Remus came to meet with Pomfrey a week before the first full moon of the year.

"Hello Hermione," he greeted her warmly. She smiled at him, her heart fluttering at the use of her given name.

"Remus," she responded, getting up from where she was reviewing a Healing text. "Madame Pomfrey is out for the night, a family thing, I believe, but she left the potion for you."

The werewolf froze, an odd look on his face. "What potion? I thought I was coming in for a, uh...a health check, just a general kind of, uhm, thing?" Hermione knew, of course, that he had just expected the Matron to ask about his summer transformations and to fret over him like she normally did. She had hoped, however, that Pomfrey would have told him about the potion so she could have hid her part in it for a bit longer. That, however, was not a choice at this point.

"Well, no. She wanted you here because of this new potion-you'll have to take it every night for a week, and though it tastes rather vile," she paused, an apologetic smile on her face. They were still working on a way to make it less horrible to drink but they had yet to find a way. "It's a new potion," she continued, "one that just recently got approval, but it's being kept rather under wraps."

"Why's that?"

Remus was nervous, that much she could tell. She had wanted to ease him into the fact that she knew he was a werewolf; she had wanted to avoid this conversation.

"Belby-you remember him, he was a Ravenclaw prefect," he nodded, so Hermione continued. "He and I were working on something, a potion. It took a few years, and we were successful. The Ministry is a bit embarrassed; they don't want to admit to the world that two teenagers have made such large strides in regards to this issue when they haven't been able to." A pause, enough time for her to take a deep breath. "Wolfsbane isn't a cure, Remus. But, if taken every night for the week before the full moon, it will allow you to retain your mind during your transformation."

Silence.

Hermione refused to look Remus in the eyes, afraid of his reaction to her knowing his secret. She busied herself with taking the goblet and ladling in the correct dosage. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the boy she liked-hell, who was she kidding, she bloody well was in love with the wizard-sit down on one of the beds and put his head in his hands.

"You know?" he asked, his voice hoarse. She nodded, walking over to place the goblet on the bedside table before sitting down on the bed with him-close enough to show she wasn't afraid, far enough to give him space.

"Since second year for sure," she told him softly, "but I figured if you wanted me to know you would have told me at some point. I wasn't going to tell you a I knew, but that's a bit hard to do when I have to dose you with a potion I invented for you."

His head shot up. "For me?" Disbelief colored his words, and she could see the shock in his eyes.

"You need to understand something, Remus. Nothing about me being here has ever felt right. My mother, she told me I was conceived from magic which isn't possible. I've read everything there is to on the subject. I have memories from a life I never even lived!" she said as she stood up and started to pace. "I think, Merlin, I think she used a blood ritual to call a child to her, one that caused me to be reborn into this role. We have a book of them in the library that she tried to hide from me. I bet I sound crazy right now, you probably think I inherited that Black family madness, but I swear to you that everything in this life feels off-it's comfortable, I'm happy enough, but I don't belong. I never feel like I belong," she exclaimed, stopping suddenly in the middle of the floor. "Except when I'm with you."

There was that silence again, but Hermione was quick to fill it.

"When Belby told me about his research, I knew it was possible but he wasn't there yet. That's why I helped-he wouldn't have been able to finish it for years without my help but I couldn't live with you continuing to suffer, and I know it's not a cure but we're working on that-"

Her monologue was interrupted by a pair of lips on hers. Remus was kissing her. She couldn't breathe. Was she doing it right? She had never kissed anyone before, never wanted to, but Merlin did kissing Remus feel like the most right thing in the world. Her heart felt like it was in her throat but she couldn't focus on that, she couldn't focus anything that wasn't kissing Remus. It felt good, and moaned into his mouth when he nipped at her bottom lip.

She was blushing when he pulled away, leaning his forehead against her's and staying close. She could feel his breath on her face and she could smell him, that earthy, woodsy scent that she had recognized immediately when Slughorn had brought out Amortentia.

"Werewolves," he said slowly, hand resting on the nape of her neck, "have mates. People who are so compatible that we feel drawn to them, need to be around them, need to make sure they're safe."

She kissed him this time, softly, gently, quickly, taking advantage of the small lull in his words.

"I was 14, Hermione, when I realized I had found my mate. That it was you. Young werewolves don't normally find them so early, and the signs are faint in the beginning. It wasn't until we started spending more time together that I figured it out, and I thought that," he stopped, struggling for the words, "I thought that I could never have this, have you," he stopped again, searching for what he wanted, needed, to say to the witch in front of him, "but for you to have felt the connection, that's...that's more than I could have ever dreamed of. For you to have tried so hard to make life better for me with this potion," his breathing was heavy, tears heavy in his eyes, and Hermione felt the urge to wrap her arms around him tightly. His next words were almost lost in the tangle of her hair, "Merlin, Hermione, I love you."

A/N This story is dedicated to the lovely ShayaLonnie, who posted on her tumblr a comparison between herself and Remus, which somehow led me to this concept of Hermione being the one to invent Wolfsbane. She was stolen through time by ancient magic and, is, of course, both a pureblood and a Slytherin because this basically became "How many tropes can I fit into five pages?"

I apologize for the grammar of this-I lack a beta reader and I'm actually horrible at tenses. Some of this, obvious, was supposed to be in the past tense because it had happened years ago, which was an ill thought out style thing on my part. (I can't stay in the proper tense to save my life, and I tend to switch in and out of them a lot.)