A/N: "Hey Readers! Thanks for the support! Enjoy!" – E

.

.

.

.

.

oOoOoOo

"It's not fair, he was only filling in. Why should he give us homework—?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves—"

"Two rolls of parchment—!"

The students protested at the injustice, their voices angry and hurt, and Remus held up a hand to silence them."Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" he asked, but the question only fueled their outrage. He turned back to his lesson plan with a sigh. A paper on recognizing werewolves; what was Snape playing at?

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."

Snow flurries danced against the large windows of his classroom as his students once again settled back into their seats. After a few moments, Remus had them under control and attentively taking notes on hinkypunks as the wispy, smoke-like creature in the tank stared back at them. While chatter wasn't uncommon in the minutes before his lectures, controlling his class had been a challenge lately. Gossip still ran heavily on Sirius' break into the castle and it seemed his students couldn't get enough.

Remus tried to block out their theories and rumors about the break in, hoping the rumor machine that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would soon turn out another name. Even when the dementors showed up at the quidditch game and Gryffindor lost on such an upset, it did little to deter the hushed whispers of 'Sirius Black!' from his classrooms.

The full moon had helped in its own twisted way to cleanse some of that pain from that night. There's nothing quite like that monthly reminder that he was a disgusting, inhuman creature to put his life in perspective. Once night fell and he transformed, Remus prowled around his room, his human mind still intact within the body of the wolf. He dragged himself through all the memories, the good and the bad. Their school days, with that cloud of war they couldn't quite see yet to the times in the Order and the dark years that followed.

And that morning after his transformation had finished, as Remus lay on the floor of his room struggling for breath, he heard her soft knock at the door. He ignored her. He didn't need Hermione's potions, her cool hands, or that look of pity in her eyes. He healed his jagged back himself and instead of potions it was a long drag of Firewhiskey and a fitful sleep.

It was like the beginning of the year again; Remus took long meals in the Great Hall and worked on his grading in the teachers' lounge, while Hermione stayed confined in their shared space. Of course, he logically understood why Hermione had kept it all from him. After all, if she had turned to him and said, "Oh, by the way, you know Sirius? Your best friend who betrayed everyone? Well, he's going to attempt to sneak into the castle and kill Harry. Just thought you may like to know." What would he have done? But that knowledge only made him feel worse.

The bell in the clock tower chimed the hour and his students quickly packed up their books. Remus made certain the cage of hinkypunks was secure before gathering the mess of papers that littered his desk. He had a lot of work to do. Missing a few days of class had left him behind. The tests from his fifth-years and essays from his second-years would be taking up most of his evening. However, as Remus straightened up his rolls of parchment, he glanced up at the students filing out of the room. He cleared his throat.

"Wait a moment, Harry. I'd like a word."

oOo

Hermione sat on the edge of her small bed, running her hands through her damp hair, when she heard the office door open and then close. Remus was back from his afternoon class, Hermione noted. Standing, she grabbed her wand and pointed it to the top of her head, reciting the spell that dried and curled her hair into her usual long ringlets. After straitening up her room and grabbing the damp towels off the floor, Hermione pushed the concealed door open and stepped into the office.

Remus stood by the couch, briefcase in hand. Hermione ignored him, and continued on across the room back to the bathroom, where she dropped the damp towels into the laundry. Turning back, she noted Remus hadn't moved and was looking over the spread of books and parchment that she left upon the coffee table. She watched him. In front of them, surrounded by a small mess of parchment, sat her old pocket watch. Its face was open, and from it a beam of soft, golden light was projected, where many numbers and runes were quickly shifting and changing.

"I'm measuring time fluctuations," she said, pulling his eyes from the watch. "With so much magic flowing and being crafted through here, Hogwarts has some very unusual readings. When it's time for me to return, having an accurate measurement of the way time travels through here will make that journey easier."

He didn't answer, instead Remus looked down at one of the books she had left open upon the couch.

"Dumbledore sent that over for me," she continued, walking around the couch. "An old, Bavarian book on time manipulation, some theories a bit abstract and outdated, but there are some helpful formulas and charts. Again, Hogwarts is so unusual and even my addition here is setting of some very strange ripples in time—"

"Should you really be telling me this?" he interrupted, turning to her. "Isn't this one of those things I'm not supposed to know about?"

Hermione frowned at the slight challenge to his words. The moon had passed almost a week ago and his face was starting to fill with life once again, but there was still a hardness to him. She looked back down at the watch and frowned. She wasn't sharing ideas or theories available in every basic introductory text on time. Still, his tone only pulled at her already-strained temper.

She crossed her arms. "Well, would you like me to erase your memory?"

He grew tense at her words. Hermione stared him off, the threat a mostly empty one, but before he had a chance to respond there was a knock at the door. She reached over and grabbed the watch, snapping it shut. She then turned from him and marched back to her own room.

Remus watched her leave, the portrait door shutting with a soft click, before moving to the front door where, again, someone knocked. He opened it.

"Good evening, Professor Lupin."

Remus stood in stunned silence for a moment. The young Hermione Granger looked up at him, her small, childlike face full of nerves. When he didn't answer, her smile fell slightly and Remus quickly collected himself.

"Oh! Hermione, hello," he said. "What can I help with you with?"

"Well, professor," she started slowly. "In class, you said you weren't collecting Professor Snape's essays, but I was wondering, if it's not too much trouble, if—if you would grade mine anyways?"

She shifted nervously, her transfiguration book held tightly in her arms as she awaited his answer. It was a very familiar eagerness, and Remus couldn't help smiling.

"Yes, of course. I'd be happy to."

She beamed at him and started rummaging through her stuffed school bag.

"However, I can't give you any extra credit for this," he said. "It wouldn't be fair to the other students. Not that you need any extra credit, of course, you are doing very well in my class."

"Really?" She handed him the roll of parchment.

"Yes, I'll get this back to you next week."

"That's great, thank you, professor."

"Goodbye, Hermione."

She turned and waved at him before continuing down the hall. Remus watched as she struggled with her heavy school bag, and then turned the corner out of sight. He walked back into his office and shut the door behind him. As he did so, the older Hermione stepped out from behind the painting that concealed her room. Remus watched as she began to tidy up her notes and parchment.

"I wonder if perhaps I'm the time traveler."

Hermione looked up at him and frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"That was you—your younger self, I mean—turning in an essay," he unrolled the parchment. "How to Recognize and Kill Werewolves…"

She walked over and Remus handed her the paper. A strange look flickered across her face and a small smile pulled at her lips as she read. Remus moved to his desk and opened his briefcase, which was practically bursting with assignments.

Hermione continued to read through the assignment as he unpacked. It was an interesting read and she was amazed by how thorough she'd been and how young her handwriting looked. Reaching back, Hermione could almost remember doing this assignment, it had been one of the first clues about Remus' secret, but too much time had passed and the memories were hazy.

"I talked to Harry today, about his problem with the dementors."

Hermione looked up. Remus had moved back to the couch and was watching the fire, his tie loosened and a dark expression on his face. Adding her assignment to the pile already growing on his desk, Hermione walked over and took the seat next to him.

"You heard about the game last weekend?"

He nodded.

Hermione remembered that game well. She remembered the coldness that swept the stadium when the dementors approached the field and her heart stopping in terror when Harry fell from the sky, his skinny body hitting the ground. It was the first time of many where Hermione feared he had died.

"He said he can hear him." His voice was flat. "Harry can hear Voldemort murdering his mother… Murdering Lily," he looked at her. "But of course you knew that too?"

Hermione nodded, and he looked away. Remus seemed torn, as if he were deciding not only which questions to ask, but if he even wanted to ask them them at all. Hermione sat up straighter.

"I'm never going to tell you, Remus," she said, drawing his eyes from the fire. "I wish I could, but you know I can't."

"Even if it could save lives?"

"I can't," she repeated.

"So you would do nothing," Remus challenged, his voice raised slightly. "You would do nothing to stop Sirius from breaking into the castle and murdering Harry?"

"Do you think he would do that?"

Remus laughed, the desperate sound ripping through his chest as he stood, his hand moving through his hair in frustration as he turned back to the fire. She watched the calmness that once again took his face as he lent against the hearth and watched the flames.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I don't know, " he answered softly, the light from the fire dancing off his tired face. "Grin and bear it I suppose. Do I have a choice?"

With a small pop, one of the castle's house elves appeared with her lunch tray. Hermione thanked the elf as Remus moved across the room to his desk and turned once again to the pile of assignments. Another heavy snow was building in the mountains as the wind buffered the window, the glass shaking slightly in the frames.

"When I am done eating, would you like help with your grading?" Hermione asked.

Remus paused at her question, his broad shoulders still as Hermione watched him. In some ways Remus was so like the wolf, hesitant and cautious, wary of those he didn't trust. She knew she couldn't approach him freely. She had to move slowly and let him know her as he ran his muzzle against her hand.

"…alright."

oOoOoOo

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: "Hope you all liked it! I'm excited to bring in younger Hermione a lot more in the upcoming chapters."— E