To be with joy in even the darkest circumstances is to be content. To be content is to be at peace and—to some degree or another—happy. That happiness, of course, is fleeting if it is without hope. To be content and with consistent hope for the future is to be truly happy. Therefore, being as hope, content, and joy were far from Hermione's mind the morning after her escapade with Finnegan and a certain Mr. Black, it is quite safe to say that she was far from happy!

"What is this?!" Ron was yelling at her incredulously, shaking a newspaper in her face. He had come storming into her apartment fifteen minutes ago yelling something quite similar and had not stopped yelling since. "How long as this been going on?!"

Hermione had learned long ago that when Ron was left out of or did not understand something, he often reacted in anger. Now, when both occurred to Ron at the same time… well, it was best to let him blow off some steam before the real fight began. But then, as far as Hermione was concerned, this was not one of those occasions.

"…Merlin, Hermione! He's twice your age!"

She sighed in annoyance. Not only did she not have the slightest clue as to what was in the paper he kept waving in her face (rarely did she have the time to study the morning news) but every time she made a grab for it he flung it some other direction. Is that a picture of...?

"He's Harry's godfather! He's probably slept with every female in Europe and he's only using you!"

It must have been.

"I mean, Sirius Black? I've always known you were a little off your rocker, but this just proves you to be utterly insane!"

Oh, no he did not.

"When my mother hears of this—"

"How dare you...!" Hermione was seething. She had snatched the paper from him in the midst of his pause (she'd been relatively quiet thus far, after all) and, putting it to good use, smacked him over the head. "You waltz into my apartment with the nerve to insult my intelligence when everyone knows that if it weren't for me, you would never have made it through Hogwarts! You scream at me for reasons that I am completely unaware—which wouldn't have been a problem in the first place if you had just bothered to ask for my side of the story and allow me to defend myself! You, Ronald Weasley, are by far the most immature, arrogant, and pig-headed man on the face of this entire planet!"

"Yeah…? Well, at least when I'm lonely I don't stoop so low as to—"

"I think, Ronald, perhaps it would be best if you didn't finish that sentence." The voice was firm but gentle, commanding and yet merely suggesting an alternative route. It wasn't Hermione who spoke. Startled, the witch turned to see Remus Lupin standing in the kitchen doorway. She had not even heard him come in. He smiled at her and, nodding his greeting, turned back to Ron. "In fact… maybe it would be best if you took your leave before more than words are flying."

Scowling and more than obviously still angry and wanting to fight, Ron did just that, leaving with a final glare and a slam of the door.

Hermione sighed. "I am terribly sorry, Remus. You shouldn't have had to see that… and I completely forgot about watching Teddy today!" She rubbed her face wearily. "My head hasn't been on very straight lately, I'm afraid."

Her aging professor (for she still couldn't help but remember him as her professor) only chuckled, moving her toward the dining room table. She sat down with a thud and allowed herself to rest her head in her hands. "It's no trouble at all, Hermione. Change of plans, actually. Teddy is spending the day with Harry. I was coming over for two reasons… one being, obviously, to let you know just that."

When it became apparent that the werewolf wasn't going to continue, Hermione lifted her head, an eyebrow rising in question. He was sitting in front of her, studying her intently. She sighed again. "All right, what do you know that I don't… and are you going to tell me what the second reason for your visit is?"

Wordlessly, he slid the morning paper to her from across the table.

WAR HERO'S HEART STOLEN BY previously CONVICTED MASS MURDERER!

…Has her innocence been stolen as well?

Hermione's jaw dropped, anger flaring before she even read the article. The title was large and flashy—on the front cover—obviously meant to catch the attention of the random passerby. As if the title weren't enough, a picture accompanied it, one of herself and a certain Sirius Black. They were walking through Hogsmede. She was laughing at something he'd said (a joke he had made at Seamus' expense, she recalled) and he was grinning at her. An arm lifted and slid across her shoulders, tugging at a stray curl as he whispered something else in her ear ("Perhaps you should try straightening your hair; Irishmen seem to go for girls with curls… I should know, I'm a quarter Irish, you see.") and she had blushed in response.

"I assure you," Remus interrupted her thoughts. "The rest of the article is just as good."

Dread filled weighed her heart down to her stomach. No putting it off then….

Everyone knows Hermione Granger. As a proclaimed War Hero and an intimate friend of The-Boy-Who-Lived, how could anyone not recognize her name? She is painted as the good girl, the hero, the intellectual, but I am one of the few who recognize her tendency to chase after the big boys (Harry Potter, Viktor Krum, Albus Dumbledore...) for what it is: a lust for fame. Oh, no, Hermione Granger doesn't waste time on the little boys. ("Ronald Weasley had been after her for years," An anonymous source informed me. "But she never gave him the time of day. Wasn't worth her time, I suppose.") Now she's after the sole heir to the Black family fortune. How much fame does one girl need?

Bad-Boy Sirius Black was notorious mass murderer and infamous follower of You-Know-Who. He was the first ever to escape Azkaban as well as the first to break through Hogwarts' doors undetected. He fell through The Veil in the Department of Mysteries and was believed to be dead when he was proven innocent and his official pardon was respectfully decreed. After heavy research on The Veil, not a year after his death, Sirius Black was resurrected. (Little more information has been given on the subject.) He was once the best friend of James Potter and so was named the Godfather of The-Boy-Who-Lived, who is Hermione's best friend. The man is, quite simply, famous.

Good-Girl Granger has interesting taste, wouldn't you agree?

Seamus Finnegan (an old school friend of Miss Granger) gives us special insight into this unexpected relationship. "Black was all over her—and she wasn't complaining. She left her work just to satisfy his cravings!" The implications are shocking. Finnegan knows Granger well, he claims, as they were once intimate lovers. He tells us this, "Granger definitely has a thing for the famous. (She only pursued Finnegan until it became apparent that he wasn't pursuing a career in Quidditch.) Black definitely has a thing for pretty girls. I can't be sure who's using the other more."

Shocked? Surprised? Upset? Angered, even…? I was too.

Is it possible that we have been being manipulated by the sweet-faced Hermione Granger all along?

It was written by Rita Skeeter.

"Oh, that atrocious flea bag…!" Hermione screeched, standing in a fit and throwing the newspaper across the room. "How dare she! Harry? Dumbledore? And I have never had sex with Seamus! How dare she..."

"So, it's not true then?"

Hermione's jaw dropped in astonishment. Ron, she could understand—he'd always been somewhat of an idiot when it came to things like this. But could her professor truly have believed…? Remus chuckled, as if in response to her thoughts.

"Allow me to rephrase my question. Are you, or are you not, in love with my best friend?"

Moments flashed in her mind—moments in which she had been caught speechless or unaware—such as the occasion that Ron had actually remembered her birthday and the time that they had had a Weasley dinner without any argument or mischief. There was the moment in which she had stared at a Sirius Black that she knew had died. He'd died. But he was standing in front of her, very much alive, and grinning at her in that crooked way. She was very much speechless then. But nothing, none of that, could prepare her for this moment.

She stared at her old professor, mouth gaping, struggling to form an excuse or an explanation. But, there was nothing. He was regarding her with those all-knowing eyes, the ones you could not lie to… and yet, she couldn't simply speak the truth, could she? Hermione wasn't sure that she knew the truth anymore, anyway. When his lips began to twitch into a smile, she sank back down to her chair wearily.

Remus set his hand on top of hers and patted it gently. "I don't really mean to put you on the spot—though, I'll admit, it does bring back Marauder memories of doing similar things to people quite purposefully—but the article and the picture brought up this issue that I've been pondering over for a few good years now. You must understand: I simply couldn't pass the opportunity to gain new insight and clarification."

With wry amusement, Hermione stretched back in her chair and crossed her arms. "I wouldn't expect anything less of you Professor Lupin." She smiled as Remus groaned.

"I do wish you wouldn't call me that. It makes me feel so terribly old… the professor of a girl finished with school as long as you have been!"

"You have to accept your age at some point, Professor…!" It was not unlike Hermione to tease the werewolf in this exact manner. In fact, it had become the very way in which the two expressed the trust in their friendship.

"Speaking of age—"

"Not you too please," It was Hermione's turn to groan. Her forehead fell against the wooden table with a thunk. "….At least, not right now, I can't take it!"

Lupin's voice was light when he spoke. "Might I suggest that age is merely a number, Miss Granger?"

The young witch lifted her head, "Might I remind you, Professor Lupin, that it is a number which is very important in all sorts of laws all over the world!"

He simply smiled. "You may, indeed. But I would be forced to remind you that those laws do not apply to you or your situation and that, therefore, your problem does not lie in the numbers—not exactly—but in reputation, and your fear of loosing your good one."

Hermione fumbled for a response, but all she immediately came up with was far too defensive. This, she knew, only insinuated that he had guessed correctly and she didn't want him to give the man the satisfaction of knowing as much so soon. "Then I must point out that the article which brought you here today has already destroyed the reputation you speak of and, therefore, cannot be the issue."

"But I could also go deeper and suggest that it is not your reputation of the world that worries you and, rather, it is the good thoughts of those that know you best and are closest to your heart that you wish to keep and fear to loose."

Another man that doesn't miss a beat… brilliant, just what I need at a time like this!

"You, Remus, are far too astute."

Lupin laughed. "Yes, I've been told as much before."

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few long moments. Finally, Hermione chuckled. "Well, aren't you going to start your inquisition?"

"On the contrary, my dear…!" Remus stood with a smile. "I'm going to return to my work and leave you to ponder the thoughts which I'm sure are pounding through that mind of yours." With a wink, he added. "You always were my brightest and most thoughtful student, after all!"

Before she could respond, he was gone.

Another long suffering sigh and, hesitantly, Hermione made her way over to the paper all askew on her kitchen floor. She picked it up and smoothed it out. Folding it back in half, she gazed at the picture once more. "Perhaps you should try straightening your hair; Irishmen seem to go for girls with curls… I should know, I'm a quarter Irish, you see." She couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips, fairly certain that she would never straighten her hair again. Despite the bitter taste the article had left on her lips, the picture really was very nice.

Perhaps she'd hang it on her fridge.
. . .
. . .
A/N: Well, this is the shortest chapter I've written so far... and I know it was without the presence of Mr. Black, but I hope it was satisfying just the same. I rather like Remus in this chapter. Not that I ever don't like Remus, I suppose. Keep reviewing, please!