It had been two days since Hermione had regained consciousness, and Remus never once left her alone in the hospital wing. He couldn't leave her side. After what had happened during the full moon, he felt he needed to be by her, no matter what. Madam Pomfrey said she'd only need one more night in the infirmary, and then she'd be able to go back to their quarters.

"Just to be sure," she'd said. Just to be sure that Hermione really was alright.

They'd move back the following day, September the first. The first day of term. Everyone was coming back to school tomorrow, and Remus felt like it couldn't be any worse timing. She needed time to heal, to come into her own with her new life before the surge of intrusive students came back. But there was nothing they could do about it. Dumbledore had offered her the allowance of taking the first week off, but Hermione had almost been offended.

Remus almost smiled. Hermione? Take time off from school? Never.

She'd spent most of the last two days asleep. Every time she woke up, her eyes were haunted and it looked like she couldn't bear to be conscious for any longer than eating a meal took. They'd hardly spoken. He didn't really know what to say.

He could tell her about life as a werewolf – the tiredness, the ostracism, the loneliness. But he didn't want to tell her about those things. He didn't want her to feel any worse. As for the other thing… Merlin. She couldn't have children. They'd never talked about it, really. It seemed like something that could wait a few years, then bring up after they'd lived for a while. He hadn't even known she'd been pregnant. Well, neither had she.

It had been that young. So young, that it wasn't even known. So young that it had been missed before it could be loved. And God, Remus would have loved it. It wasn't until he'd seen the blood, heard the word 'miscarriage', that he'd realized that he did want to be a father. Sons, daughters. Anything. He would have loved them.

There were other options, of course, but those seemed just as impossible now. Who would allow two werewolves to adopt a child? Who would want to be a surrogate? A friend, possibly, but it still had to be approved by St. Mungo's and that was a very distant dream indeed.

And through it all, he could only blame himself. If she hadn't married him, this wouldn't have happened. He'd known it would be a disaster. And God, he'd been right. He looked down at her pale face. She looked like a marble statue with curly brown hair. Even in sleep she looked sad. Remus' nose and eyes began to burn with unshed tears. He'd ruined her. He couldn't save her and that had been the whole point of the marriage. He'd failed. His elbows propped on her bed, he covered his face with his hands.

He was full to bursting with different emotions – despair, terror, anger, failure. But there was something else as well. Something he was trying to ignore with his every fiber and something that filled him with more fear than anything else. Because no matter what people said, it was something that could tear someone apart.

The doors to the hospital wing opened. Remus looked up and his heavy heart sank further. Snape. The last person Remus wanted to be around. Judging by the look on Snape's face, he didn't want to be around Remus either. Remus didn't say anything as Snape billowed over, setting a few vials on Hermione's bedside table.

"Lupin," Snape muttered.

Remus made a noise that was a cross between a grunt and hiss.

"Make sure she takes that when she wakens," Snape continued, pointing to the vials.

"What is it?"

"New version of the old healing draught."

"Is it safe?"

"Yes, it's bloody safe, you idiot."

"Oh, fuck you, Snape," Remus snapped, surging to his feet and glaring at the other man across Hermione's bed. Snape sneered at him and then turned his attention to Hermione, who hadn't moved.

The silence was full of tension. Why didn't Snape just leave? He'd left the potions for Hermione. What else did he want?

"Lupin," Snape said in a voice so low that Remus almost didn't catch it.

"What?"

"Might it be possible for me to examine the bite?"

"What?" Remus yelled.

"Shut up, fool, or you'll wake her," Snape hissed. "I want to look at the bite."

"Why?" Remus demanded.

Snape glared at him, then turned on his heel and marched toward the door. Remus probably should have let him go, but he was too wired, to angry, to just let Snape walk away.

"Snape!" Remus called, striding around Hermione's bed and following the other man. "Snape, stop, damn it!" He caught up to him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop in his tracks. Snape whirled around, wand in hand and pointing right between Remus's eyes but Remus didn't even flinch.

"Unhand me," Snape growled.

"No," Remus replied. "Why do you want to see her bite?"

"Why do you care?"

"Just answer me!"

Snape was still and quiet for so long that Remus wondered at how he could do it. But Remus never let him go.

"I have..." Snape's voice was soft, but then his face hardened once more. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"She's my wife, and she's unconscious," Remus said. "I'm looking out for her right now. Obviously you have a reason and she's not in any state to make any decisions at the moment. What do you want with her?"

Remus could hear Snape's teeth grinding together; his lips were pursed so hard that they were white. When he spoke, his face didn't even change.

"I've had some ideas lately," he said finally. "I didn't want to talk with you, or anyone for that matter, about it because I don't want to raise anyone's hopes. But if I could see the bite, run a few diagnostics on it, I might be able to see if I'm heading in the right direction."

Remus narrowed his eyes. "And you have so much spare time, do you?"

"Why do you distrust me?" Snape demanded.

"Because she's my wife, and you just happened to be at Voldemort's side the night she was attacked," Remus replied darkly.

Snape shrugged the arm that Remus still had in a hard grip but Remus wouldn't let him go. Not yet. Not until he'd explained himself.

"If you'd release me, I'd tell you why. Not that you deserve it," Snape said, eyeing the hand on his arm.

Remus growled and with one last vicious squeeze, let go. He smiled in satisfaction when Snape flexed his hand in pain.

"The Dark Lord called me to his side that night," Snape said lowly. "He wouldn't tell me why. When I arrived he assigned me mundane tasks and then released me at dawn. I have the feeling…" he trailed off. His eyes were haunted. "I believe the Dark Lord suspects me. I'm positive he believed I'd have helped Miss Gr – your wife, had I been here."

"And he let you come back?"

"I do not understand it any better than you."

Remus sighed, all animosity gone, and ran a hand through his hair. He was just too tired for this right now.

"Come on," he said, leading the way back to Hermione's side. Snape followed silently.

Remus pulled back the sheet covering Hermione's left shoulder, showing the inflamed teeth marks, and moved around to the other side of the bed to give Snape more room. He watched, blatantly curious, as Snape bent over and examined each tooth mark. He waved his wand and symbols appeared over the wounds in a silvery mist, telling Snape things that Remus couldn't begin to guess at.

"Do you have time to look into this sort of thing right now?" Remus asked.

"I'm not a spy every moment of every day," Snape replied. For Snape, that was almost humor.

"School's going to start tomorrow," Remus said dully.

"I know."

"I just don't see-"

"Lupin," Snape said sharply. "It might not occur to you, since you're so blissfully wed and have a young wife on hand, but the rest of us have to keep our minds off of the war somehow. For me, I keep so busy that I do not have time to dwell on anything else."

Remus had never really thought about Snape's life. He hadn't cared. He remembered that his friends had been horrible to Snape in school, but Remus had stayed out of it and pointedly did not dwell on it. But now he was faced with something he did not want to see – Snape was a human being. One who had more responsibility than Remus could comprehend. And just now, he realized how hard that responsibility was. So if Snape needed one more thing to keep his mind off of it, then Remus wasn't going to stop him.

"Do yours look like this?" Snape said suddenly.

"My what?"

"Your scars," Snape said impatiently.

"Exactly like it," Remus said. "It almost makes me ill how similar they are."

"Where are they?"

"Left shoulder as well. It's where he always bites his…victims."

Suddenly it became too much for Remus. The harsh reality that lay before him suddenly struck him as much too real. He didn't want to break down, especially not in front of Snape, but he was helpless as he was assaulted by his despair. He dropped into the chair by Hermione's cot and grabbed her hand, pressing it to his cheek.

"It's my fault," he whispered.

"How so?"

He couldn't look at Snape. He refused. Instead he looked at her too-pale face as the words poured from his mouth.

"I was too far away," Remus said. "I was playing in the goddamned lake. I wasn't breathing through my nose, so I didn't smell Greyback until it was too late. I married her to protect her, and I've failed. Because I wanted to splash in the lake. It's all been one big waste. The marriage, everything. It was for nothing. It made no difference."

"Lupin-"

"She deserves so much better," Remus continued. "She doesn't deserve this life that she's going to be forced to have. She's too brilliant, too smart. She had such a bright future, and now it's ruined. And now she can't even have children. If I'd only done my bloody job, she wouldn't be in this position! If I'd just done what was asked of me-"

"Stop whining and listen to me," Snape said softly, but with total authority, cutting Remus off quite effectively. Shocked, Remus could only sit there and stare up at Snape's ugly face. "Trying to take the blame on yourself, while utterly noble of you, is a waste of time. Feeling sorry for yourself is not going to help her, and I have a feeling we're going to need her before this is over. Potter needs her, and she can't help him if she's miserable. For reasons that escape me, you make her happy. So make her happy and stop being a goddamned martyr."

Remus's jaw dropped. Without another word, Snape strode around the bed and disappeared through the doors. While part of Remus wanted to follow him and punch him in his vilifying mouth, most of him realized that, no matter how much Remus wanted to deny it, Snape was right. He looked back at Hermione. She hadn't moved once all evening.

She was going to need someone to help her. To be there for her. Her life was about to change drastically as she once more joined the real world. He took her hand once more. He'd be that person for her. Because even though they were soul mates, Remus had come to a startling realization while he'd been by her side for the last six days.

Remus was in love with her.

*

After an entire summer with the castle basically to herself, it was hard to get comfortable in the Great Hall surrounded by hundreds of students. Of course, it might have been uncomfortable anyway.

Hermione felt contaminated. Her very blood no longer felt like it belonged to her. She was still weak, and tired, but it was the Sorting Feast. She wouldn't have missed it for anything. She needed something normal in her life right now. Harry was on one side of her, Ron on the other. This was right, normal. They had been a little hesitant around her at first that morning, obviously unsure of how to treat her. But soon enough they became their boisterous selves. They made her smile for the first time in what felt like ages.

Remus had been busy for most of the day, getting his classroom and everything ready for his first classes tomorrow. Tonight would be her first night back in her own bed since the full moon. And of course, it had been a week since their last sexual interlude so they'd have to – well. She was not looking forward to it. Something told her that Remus going to treat her like glass and for some reason the very idea annoyed her tremendously.

She tried to pay attention to the Sorting Hat. She tried to focus as the new first years were sorted to their new houses. But she could only manage a few half-hearted claps for each new Gryffindor. As Head Girl, she should have probably mustered up a few cheers as well, but she just didn't want to. It didn't bode well for the rest of the year. It hadn't even started yet and she wasn't even trying. Perhaps once she was back in her classes, back where she excelled, life wouldn't seem so hard. As for the moment, she had to remind herself to breathe.

When the food appeared before her, she realized she had absolutely no appetite. The very smell, magnified now due to her curse (and wasn't that an unpleasant surprise), made her feel ill. Her head was throbbing with the noise around her battering her ears. When did everyone get so loud?

She couldn't take it anymore. Before she even realized what she was doing, she'd pushed away from the table and gotten to her feet.

"Hermione?" Harry said with a frown.

"Ron, you'll have to show the first years to the tower alone," Hermione said with forced calm. "I just need to…"

"It's alright, Hermione," Ron said quickly. "I can do it."

"Thanks," she said with deep appreciation before hurrying from the room.

Immediately once she stepped out the doors to the Great Hall, the noise and smells were almost gone. Her stomach still rolling unpleasantly, she trudged up to her quarters. Hearing footfalls behind her, she turned. It was Remus, but he was all the way at the end of the corridor. She sighed. She'd never get used to these new 'gifts'.

"Hello," she said despondently when he reached her side.

"Are you alright?" he asked, slipping his hand over hers. The contact calmed her nerves.

"The food… it smelled so wrong," she said with a grimace. "And everyone was so loud…"

"You'll get used to it," he replied. They continued on their way down the hall. "It takes a while, and you'll be uncomfortable for a while, but it settles."

"Mm," she mumbled.

Back in their quarters, she went directly to the closet and tugged off her clothes. They were so confining. She finally felt like she could breathe freely when she was nude. Skipping putting on her pajamas, she went back into the bedroom. Remus was pulling down the covers on the bed, still fully dressed.

"You know it's been a week," she said. Elaborating felt pointless.

"Yes," he replied, continuing to ready the bed for sleep. "I was thinking… We could do it like we used to."

"What, with a potion?"

"Yes, I made some today," he said softly.

"You… why?"

He finally looked at her and she sensed his discomfort. "I know that you're not feeling your best right now," he said. "I thought it would be easier for you that way."

Inexplicable rage hit her square in the chest. He must have perceived her change in temper because he suddenly looked wary.

"Do you think I'm fragile?" she snarled. "Do you think I can't take it? Am I such a poor little weakling that I can't even have sex with my own husband now?"

"No! That's not what I-"

"I'm so sick of everyone walking on eggshells around me!" she bellowed. "I'm tired of you looking at me like I'm on my bloody deathbed! I'm healed! I'm fine! I was tired, but not anymore. You know what I want?" she asked, striding toward him.

"Hermione," he said holding up his hands. She shoved them aside.

"I want to fuck," she hissed. "I want sex. I don't want to make love, I don't want to take my time about it. I want you to fuck me. Do you think you can handle that?"

His eyes flared. "Do you think you can handle it?" His voice was soft, but his eyes, his gorgeous eyes told her that what she said excited him.

"I know I can," she said. "And if I get even the slightest feeling that you're taking it easy on me, I'm going to bite you. Hard."

And with that, she shoved him backwards onto their bed. They worked together to rip his clothes of and when he was as naked as she, she jumped on top of him and held his wrists above his head while she attacked his mouth with her own. She no longer felt like herself. She was an animal – he was her mate. It was as simple as that.

He was not content to lie there and let her use him. He shoved up and rolled her to her back and set his teeth to her nipple. She cried out and arched back, glorying in the head that rushed through her body. This was what she needed. She tugged his hair, writhed under him, and pulled one of his hands between her thighs. She was already on fire and he immediately used two fingers inside her, stroking her hard. Ah, but it felt perfect.

Her legs wrapped around his hips and she pulled him to her. His hand vanished and soon they were simply rubbing themselves against one another. His mouth found hers and their teeth clanked together at the force. His hardness rubbed against the little knot of nerves and sent her into a frenzy. But she still had the sense of mind to know that when she came, she wanted him inside her.

"I need you," she gasped against his mouth.

"How?" he growled. "How do you want me?"

"Behind me," she said.

He groaned low in his throat and helped her roll over. He yanked her hips back and they both cried out when he thrust into her. She was so close already, but she held off, waiting for him. He was plunging into her madly, holding her with one arm around her waist and the other pressed against the mattress. It couldn't have been more perfect.

"Close," he said into her ear.

She pushed her hips back into his with every thrust, the fire inside of her raging higher. When his breaths became shorter, she reached down herself and touched where all of that heat congregated. It felt so good, all of it. Him, his body, her hand. She felt so earthy and powerful. She had reduced him to what he was at that moment – an animal like her.

His teeth suddenly sank shallowly into the back of her neck and that was it – she exploded. All that fire rushed through her body, causing her to shake and call out his name. He spasmed behind her, wrapped his arm around her hips and held her to him hard. They shook and twitched together, his teeth still on her neck, before collapsing onto their sides while still joined.

Breathing hard, he said, "I think we proved you're not fragile."

"I think we proved it quite thoroughly," she replied, pulling his arm tighter around herself. "Thank you."

"Any time," he said and she could hear the smile in his voice.

And at that moment, she felt like maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She wasn't alone. She had him – and she knew he'd be there for her. Yes, she'd rather not be a werewolf. But she'd best make what she could out of life anyway. She wouldn't be Hermione Granger/Lupin if she didn't.

Funny how sex could put someone in a better frame of mind.