A/N: Not much happens in this chapter, but I felt it necessary in setting the scene and building up the story. I don't particularly want to rush this one, nor do I want chapters that are too long - so I hope you can bear with me whilst I figure out the pacing! The next chapter will be from Hermione's POV, and then the scene setting will be done and it'll be time to properly get into the story. Woo!

Remus readied to excuse himself for bed before long, leaving Hermione in the library to pour over her book for a little while longer.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered softly, breaking the peaceful silence that had befallen them after their declarations of missing the other.

He stood slowly, his muscles pulling uncomfortably as he did so. His legs and his back in particular were pulsing with discomfort, but he suppressed it as he always did. He had gotten rather used to being in some form of discomfort and he never felt the desire to burden another individual with his complaints. Besides, he had found an excellent stockist of pain relief, so he had little reason to complain. He just had to attempt to remember to take it when he got to his room.

"Goodnight, Remus…" Hermione replied gently, her sentence seeming incomplete. She held his gaze for a little longer than he was accustomed to and even though he found this odd, he continued to stare at her intently, imploring her to proceed.

"Remus? How have you been getting on? Have you managed to get a supplier for your wolfsbane?" Her voice was kind and empathetic, and Remus felt a small flashback to Lily Potter. She was uncommonly kind and her personality was replicated in Hermione. No wonder he felt a pull to her, too.

He smiled at her softly, the smile reaching his eyes for the first time in a while. He slid his hands into his pockets in feign nonchalance, rolling up onto the balls of his.

"I'm yet to find a consistent supplier. Much to my disdain, nobody seems to make it as well as Severus. I have perused numerous potion makers and none seem to be up to the task." He paused for a moment, full of thought. "Some potioneers don't even want to make wolfsbane. I suppose the stigma is still there." He said with a sigh, his shoulders drooping at the mere memory of it.

He zoned out for a moment, buried in his own memory of that day. The day wherein he was forced to feel like he did during the war: repulsive. He had entered a potioneer's shop and enquired their prices and output time for a batch of wolfsbane and the clerk had chortled before saying that they don't "serve that kind of creature" in their establishment. A shiver rippled down his spine.

"That's horrible, Remus." Whispered Hermione, disrupting Remus's reverie. It was probably best that he was broken away from that memory - it was one better off stocked in the section of his brain that he didn't tend to pursue.

"I do hope you gave them a piece of your mind!" She said bitterly, her icy tone slicing through the gentle silence. "According to my studies of the lunar cycles… You need to find some soon, do you not?" She stood as she spoke, walking over to him and standing directly before him, looking up at him with twinkling eyes.

He looked down at her, noting the delicate twinkle in her eye. He smiled down at her gently, raising a hand to gently pat her arm. Awkward though it was, he felt a curious tingle in the palm of his hand where his body touched hers. With a sharp intake of breath, he dropped his hand.

"I didn't, I'm afraid, Hermione. I couldn't find my voice. It's shameful, I know." He chuckled, an embarrassed undertone present. "Unfortunately I don't know what I'm going to do."

Hermione seemed to ponder for a moment, her eyebrows knitted together. He watched her intently, his gaze intense upon her. He would love to know what she was thinking at that exact moment. In fact, he had always wanted to know what she was thinking - she had always seemed largely enigmatic to him and never failed to surprise him with her brilliance. She really was a beacon of hope in his life, and once more he felt an overwhelming happiness at the fact that he had come to stay at Grimmauld Place at the same time as her.

"Actually!" She suddenly spoke, making him jump a little. "I actually have a large vial of wolfsbane potion from when I was on the run with Harry and Ron… I didn't know what was going to happen and I wanted to always be prepared- I mean, you were often visiting Shell Cottage and Grimmauld Place, so I felt it prudent to keep a vial with me just in case… I made it with extreme care so it should still be okay. I can have a look through my trunk tomorrow and see if I can locate it?"

Remus felt relief so powerful that every other emotion slipped out of his mind. He breathed in deeply, absorbing the relief in its entirety. He was so grateful for Hermione's quick thinking and efficiency. He also couldn't help but feel a pang of adoration towards her; she had made a batch of wolfsbane potion on the offhand that she'd bump into him and find out that he was without a supply. His heart pulled at that fact, and he smiled lovingly.

"Hermione that is so unbelievably kind of you. I truthfully don't think anyone has ever done anything so kind for me…" He whispered, suddenly unable to find his voice.

He was absolutely bowled over with her kindness although he wasn't entirely sure why he was surprised. She always had been immensely kind to him; even upon finding out about his lycanthropy. She was one of the few people who remained amiable and good-natured towards him after finding out about his "furry problem" as his best friends had lovingly nicknamed it.

"I would be indebted to you. I would very much appreciate it if you could locate it. But tomorrow. It's late now." He said softly, once again raising his hand to softly pat her arm. The motion felt a little awkward, but at the same time he felt an irresistible magnetic pull towards her.

"Oh, Remus, you wouldn't owe me anything. I like being prepared and this time it has paid off! I like knowing that my hard work is coming to use, even if it is later than I expected," she laughed, "It would be my pleasure to help you."

"Thank you again, Hermione. But for now, I'm going to go to bed. I trust you won't be long to retire to your own bed? Try to resist the pull to stay up reading all night. If you do, I shall know!" He chuckled, feeling a humour filled light-heartedness in his chest.

He left the library shortly after bidding Hermione goodnight and made his way upstairs to bed, where Kreacher had carefully laid out his few belongings and had placed plenty of blankets on his bed. He always requested this when visiting because the house wasn't the best shielded against the seasons and tonight was particularly cold. He took in the room in front of him and sighed contently. He had never noticed how poorly cared for the house used to be when Kreacher was unhappy, but now it was glaringly clear. He had always been more than pleasant to the house elf, but the master of the house - his best friend - was uncommonly unfair to him.

He pushed the thought of his best friend to the back of mind, deciding that now wasn't the time to open up old wounds. He had had a more than pleasant evening with Hermione and wanted to keep that at the forefront of his mind rather than pull back negativity.

He thought of Hermione whilst he got ready for bed. He thought of her soft caring smile, her loving eyes, her compassionate demeanour, her delicate yet powerful voice, and how relaxed she looked in her lounging clothes. He also couldn't help the indecent thoughts that slipped to mind though he quickly beat those away. He had always felt an undeniable pull to Hermione, however much he denied it to himself, but he always pushed the thoughts away deeming himself too old and Hermione too sensible to even consider it. He didn't allow himself to indulge in such thoughts for fear that she would somehow find out and he would lose one of the best people in his life.

But maybe now, things were different?

The thought hummed around his mind as he climbed into the four-poster bed, tugging the sheets over himself in a cocoon, fighting against the cold. He cozied into the pillows, his body completely relaxed. It was just a shame that his mind wasn't quite up to speed with the fact that it was now time to rest and relax.

He thought of the way he felt for Hermione. He wasn't sure how he'd categorise his feelings when he didn't actually know what he felt. Was it friendly affection? Was it romantic interest? Was it infatuation? Physical attraction? Lust? Love? Had he been denying his feelings all these years? Had the war changed his perspective on things and forced him to realise his feelings?

He felt more confused than ever. He eventually resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to figure it out tonight. He raised his hand and gently flicked his wrist, closing his eyes as the lights turned off in the room, plunging him into a peaceful darkness.

He woke the next morning after perhaps the most peaceful rest he had had in years to the smells of breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, baked beans, fried bread, pastries… He got out of bed without a second thought and headed downstairs to see what was on offer.