A/N: "Hey readers! Thank you for all the kind reviews, favorites, and alerts for this story!"—E
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oOoOoOo
Their friendship started very slowly. That first evening together, they sat up talking late into the night talking, pushing through initial awkwardness with a mutual eagerness and simple get-to-know-you sort of questions. Then, over the next several days, their passion for knowledge and information pushed it further, and their talks moved from defensive spells and studies, to powerful manifestos, and muggle films.
"Old westerns? Yeah, I love them."
"Really? I'm so surprised."
"Had a couple muggle roommates shortly after Hogwarts and the war—cheap rent you know, we weren't close or anything—and they had a television."
"I just can't see you watching television!"
"Yeah, and old westerns were my favorite. I remember they showed the classics every Tuesday night."
For Remus, becoming friends with Hermione Granger was much easier than he had anticipated. Hermione was brilliant. She was shockingly brilliant. Remus was usually pleased just to find someone who was well-read and could keep up with him in conversation; it wasn't very often he came across someone who surpassed him. He stopped by the library every few days to pick up books she had requested, the topics varied and usual. Hermione absorbed them like a sponge, which opened them both up to new topics of conversation. After a long day, Remus would find himself sitting up late with her talking and debating everything. Hermione would sit on her end of the couch, sipping her tea and nodding in agreement one moment then jumping up to grab a book the next. With a bounce in her step and a concentrated look on her face, she would fall back down onto the couch next to him with a counterargument and references.
"No, trust me! He presented this argument on centaurs to the Wizengamot before the convention of 1611 when the new laws were passed. It was presented ten or fifteen years earlier in Italy, which changes everything since it was before enslavement was deemed illegal!"
Moments like this he saw quite a lot of the younger Hermione in her, the sharp, inquisitive student, but as the elder version had requested, Remus pushed these thoughts from his mind. It took some time for him to get past the oddness of their situation, and there were moments when Remus could feel the strange pull of time on her. For example Hermione knew how he liked his tea—milk, no sugar—without ever telling her, and several times he would be halfway through a story and she would smile a certain way and Remus knew she had already heard it before. However, the more they talked and the friendlier they became, the less often these moments occurred. Days together turned into weeks and Remus was amazed how effortless it was being around her.
Classes were going very well. As a student, Remus hadn't known how much work his professors had put into their lessons, but he now found himself working late when mounds of homework and exams were turned in. Hermione helped with that, too. Initially, Remus had rejected her offer to help with his grading as he took his responsibilities as professor very seriously. However, after a particularly long day, when he found himself dreading the mountain of second-year pop quizzes left to be graded, he came home to discover she had already done them. He found it surprisingly difficult to be mad at her, especially when she had done such a good job.
However, no matter how well their friendship seemed to be developing, as the full moon approached at the end of the month, Remus found himself withdrawing from her. From the day he had been bitten, it had been his curse and his alone to endure. Even in the early days when Sirius, James, and Peter found out what he was, he had avoided their attention, and only when they went through such extraordinary measures to be with him, did that wall begin to break down.
And yet, the more Remus fought to keep Hermione away, the more she persisted.
The day before the full moon he awoke early, the strong pull of the moon already leaving him anxious and exhausted. Walking out of his room and into the office, he was surprised to see Hermione already up. She was wearing a beat-up Holyhead Harpies t-shirt and a pair of boy's uniforms trousers, cuffed at the bottom. Sleep was still heavy in her eyes as she smiled and poured a cup of coffee.
"Good morning, Remus," she walked over and handed him the cup. "I assumed you wanted something a little stronger—black, splash of cream, and I added a little chocolate, too."
"Oh…thank you."
He took the cup, and then a small sip. It was much darker than he usually took it, but the hint of chocolate was a nice touch and Remus could instantly feel the caffeine slowly seep into his system.
"Breakfast?" she asked.
He glanced at the small table in front of the fire. Set upon it was a full English breakfast. His stomach turned at the very sight. "No, I couldn't possibly."
"You will need your strength." Hermione scooped eggs and bacon onto a plate and held it out to him. "At least a little protein?"
"I—" He frowned. "Thank you, but no."
"Remus—"
"No, it's fine," he set down the coffee cup, and moved towards his desk. "This is my battle. You—you needn't bother."
"I want to help."
"I've done this before."
She followed him across the room. "Then you know you should eat!"
"That doesn't matter—"
"The moon'll zap your energy if you don't build your strength."
"Yes, I know, but—"
"Remus—"
"Hermione," he turned back to her, his anger rising, "drop it! This has nothing to do with you! You aren't my mother!"
"Thank Merlin for that! You're being incredibly difficult!"
Remus glared at her. Most people didn't try to boss a werewolf around the day of his transformation, but Hermione didn't budge. She faced him, her eyes sharp and her hand on her hip as she held the plate in front of her. After a long moment he walked over and took the plate. The eggs tasted disgusting and the grease from the bacon even worse, but he ate them anyway. She was right, of course, but he ignored her as she smiled in triumph.
He finished quickly and set down the plate. "I need to get going."
"Will you be missing many classes?" Hermione asked.
"A couple," he answered. "Minerva will be sitting-in on most of my classes—and also Severus for a couple she couldn't make. Actually, I need to finish organizing my lesson plans for them."
Hermione smiled to herself, some memory pulling at the corner of her mouth, and finished cleaning up the breakfast tray. She then crossed the room and pulled on the velvet robe that hung along the wall. With a pop, a house elf appeared, and Hermione smiled and walked over to greet him. Remus watched as she chatted with the elf.
The subject of House Elf rights had definitely come up in their discussions.
"It's slave labor! Besides cooking and cleaning—which they receive no compensation for—so many wizards abuse their loyalty beyond general housework! And, yes, I understand that many house elves like to work, have pride in what they do, and are miserable when put out of a job, but that doesn't justify it! Wizarding society is doing itself a disservice by continuing this brainwashing!"
Remus had similar views. However, as a lower member of wizarding society himself, there was little he could do to change things. Hermione chatted with the elf, politely asking about his day and chores, smiling when the elf cheerfully answered. Remus found himself wondering if her eagerness to help him around the full moon was a similar sort of kindness. Mere charity for a lesser creature.
"Hermione," he said when the elf disappeared with a small pop. "How did you find out I was a werewolf?"
Hermione looked up. Her brown eyes locked onto his hazel ones for a moment. She then looked away, and crossed the room. "Oh, you told me."
His eyes followed her as Hermione walked over to the large bookcase. She tilted her head, looking over the titles on the old leather spines. Finishing the last of his coffee, Remus set the cup down and returned to his rooms to get ready for the day.
After a long shower he got dressed and returned to the office to collect his books for his morning class. Hermione was sitting at his desk now, a large textbook out in front of her as she slowly translated runes. Remus stood behind her and watched her work for a moment, before saying his goodbye and heading to the door.
However, he had barely pulled it open when a flash of orange darted past his feet and into the room. Stumbling, Remus grabbed the doorframe for support and looked up to see a large, ginger something leap from the couch onto the desk where Hermione was working. She gasped in surprise as it slid on the parchment, knocking books off the table in its wake. Remus rushed across the room towards her, grabbing for his wand. But then he saw that Hermione wasn't about to be mauled or maimed by the beast, but instead was hugging it, laughing and smiling as she stroked its mangy orange fur.
"Oh, Remus!" She looked up, and Remus was surprised to see tears in the corners of her eyes as she smiled at him. "I hadn't thought—but, but of course he would be here!"
The thing had started purring, the whole desk vibrating underneath him.
"Is that a cat?"
"Yes, of course it's a cat. Crookshanks—my sweet, clever, clever darling," she cooed, kissing the top of its head.
It was definitely the ugliest cat Remus had ever seen. Crookshanks was massive and bowlegged, his orange fur splotchy and matted, and he was currently giving a Remus a look of utter distrust through tangled whiskers. Yet, Hermione was smiling, her face was bright and alert as she stroked it affectionately.
"You never told me you had a cat."
"I don't…well, at least not anymore."
Her smile fell slightly as she looked down at Crookshanks and scratched under his chin, making the large monster give out a strange sort of croon in pleasure.
"Our pets can't last forever," she sighed. Looking up at Remus, she smiled. "You had better go on to class."
oOo
Hermione watched as Remus finished the potion and set down the goblet with a grimace. Night had fallen and the moon would be rising soon. Snape had just dropped the last dose of Wolfsbane off, his voice hauntingly familiar as Hermione hid in her small bedroom behind the painting.
"I can stay in my room," she suggested. "So you have more space to roam—"
"No, don't worry. It's fine."
His voice was already beginning to deepen. He took a long drink of his water and Hermione could tell he was trying very hard to hide the shaking in his hands. Setting the glass down, Remus gave Hermione one final nod before turning to his rooms as darkness began to fill the office.
The windows were still open—she found herself leaving them open whenever she could—and Hermione walked forward, listening to the wind in the distant trees. She then looked up at the cool silver orb creeping over the horizon. It was a very clear night; his transformation would be more difficult than usual. Poor Remus. Every time the full moon came, her heart broke for him. Hermione remembered her time at Grimmauld place with Harry and Ron, about six months after the battle of Hogwarts when Remus moved in with them. Hermione had been so shy around him then, uncertain how to help someone in so much pain. However, after that first moon, when he stumbled up the stairs from the basement his face pale and body sweat-soaked, Hermione knew she couldn't just ignore him.
The past few weeks had been going well. The confining space and lack of work still bothered her, but things with Remus were a vast improvement. Starting their friendship over had taken some adjustment, but once they started talking, things had begun to fall into place. Remus had always been a good speaker and Hermione, a good listener. Still, Hermione had to be careful. It was okay for her to tell him anything her younger self would have known—vacation spots as a child, favorite movies and books—but anything beyond the current time could be so dangerous.
"How did you find out I was a werewolf?"
It was the bluntness of his question that threw her off. Remus knew not to ask of their future, it was a rule they had established early on, and the fact he was asking about such a defining moment in their history made her pause. Of course, Hermione remembered. She remembered doing the assignment for Snape, wondering why Remus had missed class and why he always looked so sickly. She remembered staying up in the library, reading books and looking through lunar charts as her mind turned and the pieces slowly fell into place. And she remembered being just outside the Whomping Willow, Sirius yelling at her to run as Remus' body shifted and changed in the moonlight.
"Oh, you told me."
It was a simple lie, and one he, thankfully, hadn't questioned further.
Hermione wished Crookshanks would have stayed, she could have used the company, though she didn't blame him for avoiding this room tonight. Outside, the moon was rising over the mountains and Hermione watched the seemingly harmless orb cut very slowly through the sky as Remus transformed in the other room. While Remus always put up silencing charms so no one could hear his screaming, Hermione knew his body was twisting and transforming as he called out in agony. Sighing, Hermione moved back to the couch and sat down.
oOo
Mother and Father said not to go outside, but with so many fireflies in the garden how could he resist? Remus moved through the darkness after the flickering lights, a jam jar held tightly in one hand. Summer was here, and even though the sun had set hours ago the ground was still warm under his bare feet, the moon bright and full overhead. He'd caught at least a hundred fireflies already, maybe even a thousand. At this rate he wouldn't need the lamps in his room anymore; he could read by their glowing light instead.
A sudden howl broke the night air.
Remus stopped and looked around for the source of the noise. Was it a dog? Their nearest neighbors, a muggle couple that lived down the road, didn't have a dog. Perhaps it was a wolf. Remus thought of the stories he'd heard of wolves, nightmarish tales of monsters eating children, but then another firefly appeared before him and his mind turned back to the task at hand.
He knew ever inch of the garden, the shortcuts behind the bushes, the plants that scratched and the ones that had leaves soft like rabbit ears. Chasing after the quick, illusive glimmers upon the darkness, he could still hear the sound of his parents' wireless in the house. They were always listening to the wireless these days, talking in low voices. Another howl sounded, this time closer, and it was echoed by his father calling Remus' name from the house. A vein of worry filled him. Again, he wasn't supposed to be outside—
The pain was quick and abrupt as Remus was shoved to the ground. A weight was on him, his panic and confusion rising at the sound of snarling and hot breath upon his face. Something was on top of him, something large and wet, something attacking him, something biting him! He was dragged through the grass, and Remus screamed for his father. His shoulder was torn open, a cold fire rising, and he screamed for his mother. He screamed, and he screamed, and through tear-filled eyes, Remus saw that the jar had broken in the struggle and a hundred fireflies rose into the night above him.
oOo
Remus woke up with a start as he felt the first itching of his transformation begin. Lying down on his haunches, he opened his mouth and panted, trying to get as much oxygen before the mutation closed his windpipe. Outside his window, dawn was breaking, and a lightening-hot pain seared his body. After almost thirty years, the pain was still unbearable. Remus howled as he felt his skin split along his back and his head stretched as the large wolf form forced itself back into his smaller human one. The howling soon turned into screaming as his body finished transforming, the fur replaced by a cold sweat as Remus lay on the floor of his bedroom, shaking and naked as he tried to catch his breath.
Exhaustion pulled relentlessly at him, his limbs heavy and dull. He had to get up. Remus knew if he didn't take care of himself now he would be worse for it later. Struggling against the pain, Remus forced himself to sit up and lean against the side of his bed, the small movement breeding fire in his lungs. Reaching behind him, he grabbed the pajama pants off his side table and slipped them on before standing, grabbing onto his wardrobe for support as the room spun. The plush mattress looked like heaven and Remus wanted nothing more than to take those few steps to his bed and collapse. Yet he pushed through the temptation, unlocked the door, and stepped out into the office.
As the door creaked open and his eyes adjusted to the warm light of the fire, the first thing he saw was Hermione. She sat on the couch, looking tired, but alert. Guilt clinched in his chest as Remus noticed she was wearing the same clothes as the day before. "You didn't have to stay up," he rasped, his voice low and shaky as he gripped the wall to support himself.
"Of course, I did, Remus," Hermione said as she rushed over to him, her face full of worry as she took his arm.
"Please, I—"
"Don't fight me—I know what I'm doing. Now, did you get much sleep once you transformed? I didn't hear any wolves in the forest, which is good, but of course your hearing would have been much better than mine."
Remus tried to protest but her grip on his arm was firm and she spoke too quickly for him to get a word in. Hermione helped him into the bathroom and light-filled orbs sprung to life as they walked in, the tile floor cool on his feet.
"Did you hear me?" she continued, leading him to the edge of the tub. "Sleeping in your wolf form really does help with your recovery after. Let me see your back—"
"No!"
Remus stood quickly. The room spun before him as Hermione grabbed his arm. Her hands were cold on his skin and Remus was suddenly very aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt, his mutilated body exposed. He backed away from her.
"Please, Hermione, don't look. I need to heal it still—"
"No, I'll do it. You are in no condition to do magic like that—"
"Please, it's disgusting—"
"It's normal! Sit down!"
Remus faced her, drawing on the last of his strength and praying she would see his logic. However, after a few moments his knees betrayed him and began to buckle as Hermione helped him sit down once again.
"I will be here for another nine moons, do you really think I'd let you suffer them alone?" she asked softly. "Please, Remus."
Reluctantly, Remus turned on the ledge. Along his back was deep, jagged gash where his skin split during the transformation each month. When it wasn't open and bleeding after the full moon, it was a long white scar until it was torn open again the following month.
He watched in the mirror as Hermione pulled out her wand and carefully cleaned and mended the wound. He felt the warmth of the spell, but little pain, her work a neater job than what he would have done. Remus ran his hands through his sweat-soaked hair, his fever beginning to take over in full force. The cruelty of the situation was that the weakness and fever after the full moon wasn't because of his lycanthropy, but was actually a side effect of the wolfsbane. The potion kept his mind free of the transformation but it ravaged his body. But what choice did he have?
Remus closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her footsteps as she crossed the bathroom and turned on the sink, the sound of rushing water mixing with the pounding in his ears. He was tired. He was so, so tired.
She walked back and Remus hissed as a cold damp cloth was spread across the back of his neck.
"Merlin, you are burning up. Hang on."
Hermione stepped out of the bathroom and returned a moment later with her arms full of potion bottles.
"Where did you get—"
"Had the house elves go to Madam Pomfrey—here, pain tonic first."
She quickly uncorked several of the bottles, placing them into his shaky hands. He recognized many of the labels, but not all. He drank them and within moments the pounding in his head began to lessen. The fever began to recede. Remus looked up at Hermione, who was smiling at him.
"Better?"
"I didn't know you were a healer as well as a time-traveler."
She laughed.
Remus stood up, strength slowly returning to him as Hermione helped him back to his bedroom. It was amazing; his recovery was going much faster than usual and he wondered what the other potions were that she had given him.
"Seriously, Hermione, werewolves can be tricky patients. Only certain potions work and healing my back. Really, I'm—" He stopped walking and turned to look at her. "You've done this before."
"Here," she handed him his old, blue pajama top. "Get into bed. I'll see if I can find another blanket. Your fever should have broken by now but still, I don't need you getting chills."
"Hermione—"
She ignored him and bustled around the room. A moment later, Remus found himself being tucked into bed as Hermione fluffed his pillows and pulled the duvet around him. When she tried to move away from the bed he grabbed her hand.
"How do you know all of this?" he asked, but she only smiled at him. "Won't you tell me?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Well, won't you at least tell me why you are being so unnecessarily kind?"
She laughed again, her tired eyes sparkling. Outside his window the sun had risen, the bright orange light streaming through the windows and onto her face. Shaking her head, Hermione leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
"Goodnight, Remus."
oOoOoOo
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A/N: "Please feel free to review!"—E