AN: Sooo guys, it's half 2 in the morning here in England, and I've had major writer's block on this hence the terribly slow update. It's a miracle I even managed to write anything! But once I got past the first part, I found it rather easy to get back into the flow of the story.

Bit of romance here.I am going to emphasise once more- romance is only a secondary plot. It's going to play a part (a bigger part in the first half of the story when they're at Hogwarts because they're teenagers with not a care in the world) and then slowly tamper out once the darkness settles. But if you are a hopeless romantic, please say! I'll try not to lose the happier, lighter themes, but they will most definitely be put to the side once the war starts (which won't be for a while yet anyway).

So this might not be the best but I'm desperate to upload for you, and I'm quite satisfied with it! Thank you so so so so so so SO much for your lovely words! I cannot possibly express how humbled I am by all of you taking time of your day to read this story and leave a comment- it means everything to me:)

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 25- The Monster

The wolf stopped.

It stared at her with something flickering in its deep amber eyes. Hermione couldn't breathe, and the weight of her actions threatened to overwhelm her.

Why had she called out to it?

What idiot would willingly provoke a werewolf?

She almost rolled her eyes, at the realisation that she was the idiot in question, and she would've done, but they were glued to the creature in front of her.

At the time, the only distinctive thing that ran through her tangled brain was that she had to stop it. The wolf was merciless; it would have torn Sirius to sheds given half the chance.

Panic settled in her mind and it was as if she was far away from the scene, disengaged almost, and it was frightening.

Would she be able to act if she needed to?

What Hermione needed was to run. Fast. She cared for Remus, deeply, perhaps more than she should, but the thing standing in front of her was not fully Remus.

And there was no telling whether it would rip her apart if she stayed long enough, or let her go.

She was jolted out of her frenzied thoughts by a scuffle in front of her. The wolf, albeit hesitantly, was edging closer. Its steps were small, and there was an insecurity to its eyes, which had Hermione feeling, if possible, even more unnerved. At least before, she could tell what it was thinking and. more importantly, whether or not it was going to try to kill her. Now, however, the beast in front of her was like a grenade; one that you couldn't tell if the pin had been pulled or not, and you had no idea how long you had left before eventually (if ever) it would blow.

Hermione felt sick, down to her heart, and cold. She had been in a life or death situation before, and would almost certainly face one again, if she lived… But she had never been this frightened of oblivion. Not when she had so much to do, so much to put right. If she died now, she would never be able to change the future. Lily and James would still die. Voldemort would still come back. Sirius would die. Remus would die. Peter would die. Harry would die. Ron would die. Draco would die. She would die. It would just be one perpetual circle of agony, of devastation and death. The past would be untouchable and the future would be obdurate, and Hermione couldn't bear the idea of not existing, when she had so much to put right.

The wolf padded closer still. Small steps, and the sound of its paws hitting the earth matched the beat of her heart. It was like it was afraid of something. Hermione thought the feeling was mutual.

And suddenly, it was there in front of her. She held her breath, and the anticipation seemed to choke her. Dread dribbled through her lungs, in place of oxygen. This was it. This could be the end. She let her eyes travel over the wolf's shoulder, and she could just the see moon, high up in the sky. It had never looked so cold and Hermione closed her eyes.

There was silence. Nothing happened. No whisper of movement, no growl, nothing.

Then, she felt something warm and wet on her cheek, and she bit back a whimper. Her eyes flew open, wide and frightened, and what she saw made her freeze. Her fear was tangible in the air between them.

The wolf was impossibly close, and its muzzle was nuzzling her cheek. Hermione could hear the slight whine pouring from its lips, which were inches away from her face.

She wasn't dead. But she didn't have time to relax; her heart was in her throat, throbbing erratically.

The whine grew louder and then lower, morphing into a twisted growl and when her eyes closed quickly, Hermione felt a tear fall down her face. She couldn't hold it back anymore. A shaking breath escaped her lips, and she grappled to take it back. The wolf's vicious growl faltered.

It pulled away, and whimpered. Hermione opened her eyes. The creature was still unbelievably close to her, and its entire body was rigid, its eyes were alarmed and irresolute and it looked at her with a pleading uncertainty. She stared back at it, and her veins were on fire. The werewolf leaned its head forward, and when she flinched, it drew back slightly. Then, it tried again, moving closer. It rested its nose against her forehead.

Hermione felt a long, slow breath leave her, and she didn't dare move. It then nudged her, like a dog would, pushing her away, and she tumbled a couple of steps backwards.

Alarmed, she watched it. The wolf stood there, regarding her with impenetrable eyes, and it came closer again and nudged her forehead once more. A whine left its lips. There was something desperate to it.

Hermione conceded and after a few seconds, she turned on her heel and ran back up to the castle, as fast as her legs could carry her. She didn't hesitate. She didn't look back. She didn't think twice, lest the wolf change its mind.

It was only when she had escaped back into the confines of the castle did she feel safe, when the moon could not see her anymore. She didn't stop running, however, until she had rounded the first few corners, when her lungs felt like they would explode from her exhaustion. Hermione collapsed against the wall, hand reaching up to clutch her cries as they threatened to pour from her gaping mouth. She sobbed on the floor, in the darkness of the night, with her heart pounding against her ribcage, because the world was unfair and the most beautiful person she knew had a monster writhing inside of him.

The image of the black dog, screaming and bleeding, haunted her. If she had just stayed asleep, then Sirius would be fine. He would be fine.

He will still be okay, she thought obstinately. He will live because he is Sirius Black. He can't die.

Hermione couldn't remember how she got back to the Hospital Wing after that, only that she somehow did. She couldn't recall the route she took, nor what happened on the way there. It was just one minute, she was in the corridor and then suddenly, in the next, she was climbing into her bed, feeling a numb and infinite tiredness in her bones. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Her forehead was still wet.

oOoOoOo

The next morning, Hermione woke up feeling dazed. The room seemed to spin, and the light hurt her eyes, and she had to squint until the world returned to normal.

Blinking hazily, she sat up. The events of the night came flooding back, overwhelming her mind, and she sucked on her tongue to try and stop herself from crying again. The darkness, Sirius, the wolf, the fight, the agonised whines, the growl that seemed to raise every hair on her body, the gentle yet pressing nudges, as though the wolf was not quite a wolf, but something else entirely-

"Hermione?"

The infirmary was significantly busier than it had been last night.

Peter was the one who had spoken and his wide eyes and skinny face were turned towards her. He looked tired, as tired as Hermione felt, and a yawn stretched his lips. James was pacing at the bottom of her bed. His hair looked as though he had been running his fingers through it, as it was more dishevelled than usual. There were bags under his eyes, and a tense crinkle near his mouth.

Her attention flitted to the next boy and she nearly cried out in relief. Sirius was curled up on a chair on her right, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Hermione wanted to tear her eyes away from him, but she couldn't. She was enraptured and she drank his appearance in like she was dehydrated. He was bruised and bloody, and his left eye was swollen and black. But he was still alive. He was there, before her, breathing and hurting and living. She wanted to reach out and pull him close and never let him go, because her heart had ached so much. She'd known it. She'd told herself he would be okay- it was Sirius Black, after all. He was the most stubborn person Hermione knew. His hair was still soft and shiny; the only thing right about him. Hermione wanted to scoff. Of course, his hair would still be perfect, regardless of any life or death experience.

And finally, the next bed over was occupied by Remus, who was sleeping. His face was cast in shadows, and the bruises were purple and the scratches were red and Hermione had to swallow because he looked so broken. She had never seen anyone look as broken as Remus Lupin in that moment.

Hermione remembered that phrase about seeing the other guy in a fight. She'd seen Sirius, and now that she saw the other guy, she understood what it meant. Remus looked like Death itself. Not one part of his body was unscathed, and she felt the urge to cry for him, for the unnecessary pain she'd inflicted.

James stopped pacing. He turned to look at her, and his hazel eyes were stark.

"Hermione," he said. Then he licked his lips. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Hermione froze. That was not what she had been expecting.

"Do you even realise how stupid that was?!" James stressed, and his voice had risen in volume, until it was bordering on a shout. "Sirius told you to stay asleep, he was trying to warn you to stay inside! Hell, you know us in the future! Surely you must've known-"

He broke off, panting, and realisation dawned on his face. She inhaled deeply.

"You knew," he said, quieter this time. "Didn't you? Hermione, please don't tell me you knew. Please do not tell me that you intentionally and informedly went out there…"

Hermione diverted her eyes to the floor. It was much easier to stare at something that wasn't shouting at you. She could feel Sirius' weathered gaze on her.

"Fuck, Hermione! What the hell were you thinking? You could've died! You could've gotten yourself killed! You could've gotten Sirius killed!"

James was hysterical now, and she was taken aback by the tremor of his voice, and the fury that coated the words. He sighed, and the sound was ragged. Peter trembled, his eyes were downcast. His eyebrows were knitted together in a tight frown, and he looked distressed as he said painfully, "James, please don't."

"Please don't what, Pete?" He retorted. "Please don't try and knock some sense into her? For fuck's sake Hermione- we could've lost you!"

Those four final words cracked, and they echoed around the Hospital Wing. She felt her breath leave her, as though it had been stolen.

James sucked his lips in and his eyes closed. Hermione focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest. When his eyes opened again, he mumbled, "I need some air." Before he stormed out of the infirmary.

Peter got to his feet quickly, staring at the doors, which were swinging shut. He shot an apologetic look at Hermione, before hurrying from the room.

Not for the first time, it was just her and Sirius. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, and part of her was grateful when he broke the silence; the other part wished he would leave her alone. Guilt and shame ate away at her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Hermione looked at him. "What?"

"I said I'm sorry."

Licking her lips, she asked carefully, "What for?"

"For not being straight with you," Sirius said. He tugged the blanket further around his shoulders. "I should've known that you wouldn't listen if I was cryptic. You seem to have a knack for doing things you're told not to do."

"It's a gift," Hermione said dryly, and the irony did not escape her that she was in that exact same situation with Dumbledore. Not that he knew.

Sirius huffed a laugh. "Maybe next time I should just strap you down."

"I'd still get out," she said.

"Oh, trust me Kitten, I have no doubt you would," he chuckled, but the sound was hoarse. He stood up slowly, blanket still tightly encircling his body.

"I'm sorry," Hermione called quickly. Her voice broke. "I didn't-"

She faltered. Her lips parted and she tried to form words, but they simply faded away into the air. How could she express the abject terror she felt at the mere thought of anything happening to him? How could she tell him how frightened she was that he could die? Because of her? Somehow, she managed to get out, in a breathless whisper, "I thought you could've died."

Sirius stared at her. He didn't seem to know what to say, and his face changed a number of times as various jaw muscles twitched or tensed. He said, "I'm okay. I'm alive, aren't I darling? Just a little bruised, s'all."

She let her eyes savour him. Then she nodded, and he left too. And she was left alone, and it felt like no one had even been there at all.

Hermione sighed. Her head felt heavy, and she licked her lips, wanting nothing more than to flop back on her bed and sleep for a long, long time.

"It was stupid," a voice to her right said. She jumped, hastily shooting a look in the direction of the sound.

Remus was blearily peering at her through half-lidded eyes. She pursed her lips. "What was?"

"Going outside during the Full Moon. Especially when Sirius had told you not to."

"Sirius didn't explicitly tell me anything!" Hermione fumed, ignoring the guilt inside of her that blossomed when she blamed Sirius on her foolhardiness.

Remus stared at her. His amber eyes were still narrowed, so that he could see her in the bright light of the early morning sun. There was a sad droopiness to his entire being, but Hermione wasn't sure whether it was just the bruises that made him look that way, or something else, something deeper.

"I should've guessed that you'd know," he said eventually, quietly, and she had to strain to hear it.

She didn't reply. His skin felt hot and bubbling, and Remus wanted to tear it from his bones, but he couldn't find the energy. It was always like this near the Full Moon, he always had urges, desires, to do something, but he could never find the strength. He was always drained of everything; power, determination, life. But this feeling was now tenfold at the prospect that Hermione, the girl that Remus, Moony, had kissed in the glow of fairy-lights, and who had fallen asleep on him time and time again and saved him from his boggart, knew.

That was scarier than anything else in the world. It always came down to this; the finding out led to knowing, and the knowing led to leaving. They always left in the end. It was just a matter of time before Hermione left too.

But Remus felt his heart weep in his chest, and his eyes felt raw, because despite the fact that it had happened so often, he wasn't sure if he could handle it this time. Not with Hermione.

"You nearly killed Sirius," she said.

Remus inhaled sharply, and his face contorted in pain, as though the memory, or mere notion, of hurting his best friend hurt him. "I know."

"But you didn't kill me."

Remus closed his eyes. "I know."

"In fact, you let me go."

He didn't say anything.

Hermione remembered the look in the wolf's eyes, the insecurity, like it didn't really know why it was protecting her. She supposed it didn't.

Then why was she alive?

"You can leave," Remus said. "If you want. They all do, leave, in the end…"

Hermione stared at her hands, which were resting in her lap. She didn't really know what she was thinking. Her mind, yet again, failed her. The one thing that stood out, was the agony in his voice as he said it. You can leave if you want. They all do.

She flung back her covers, swinging her legs out of her bed, and padding the short distance over to Remus. There, she sat on the chair that Sirius had occupied, and held both of Remus' hands in hers. They were warm, impossibly hot. Slowly, but surely, so he knew that she meant every word, Hermione said, "I am not leaving you. Not now, not ever."

Remus wrenched his hands away, averting his eyes, which were wet. His face was tight, and Hermione could feel her own tears. There was so much shame in him, in the bow of his head, in the set of his jaw, in the downcast of his eyes, in his voice, which shook as he said, "I'm a monster."

She recoiled.

It struck her then how strange this whole thing truly was. How could someone so beautiful, so harmoniously in tune with people and the world, be a monster?

Hermione shook her head adamantly, vehemently, and her curls bounced. The hair stuck to the wetness of her cheeks.

"You are not a monster, Remus Lupin."

And his face crumpled. A wretched sob tore from his throat, and she was overwhelmed by how human the sound was. There was so much self-hatred and sadness and desolation in that one noise, that she reached for his cheeks, forcibly turning his face, which he was trying to hide away, to face her.

Hermione stared at him, into him. This close, she could see the slight dusting of freckles, faint across the pale skin of his nose and cheeks. His eyelashes were long and light brown, to match his hair, and his eyes were glazed over, iridescent with a fresh wave of unshed tears that broke every time he blinked.

He was beautiful and he was broken and Hermione kissed him.

This time, the kiss was different. It was wet and messy and her hands cupped his cheeks firmly, holding him in place. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she felt his internal struggle reverberate into her. Even though his confliction was stark, he still kissed her back. Their lips slid over one another, quickly and then slowly, hard and then soft. It was a kiss of so many opposites, and it felt like fireworks- no, explosions booming behind her eyelids, because that is what happens when opposites collide.

His tongue flicked out, and he took control of the kiss. His hands held her head and Hermione could feel the tears still falling, though she wasn't sure whose they were anymore. They all tasted the same, and it was that fiery taste of misery and heartbreak that fuelled their passion.

For Remus, the sensation of her lips gliding, slipping, over his somehow managed to silence everything else. It was as if she somehow managed to silence every single demon that screamed inside his mind.

And so Remus kissed her, like his sanity depended upon it.

And who knew? Maybe it did.

But he was never known for his sanity. The beast inside howled night and day. It was never silenced.

He pulled away hastily, retracting his hands and looking away. Hermione caught her breath, and she couldn't help but stare at the pinkness of his lips. They matched the rims of his eyes.

"That's why I eat it," he said quietly. Hermione looked at him, ignoring how congealed and wet her eyelashes were, ignoring the throbbing of her mouth and the pulsing of her heart.

"What?"

"Chocolate," Remus elaborated. He seemed just as affected as she was. "That's why I eat it. Do you remember how I told you it was poisonous to dogs?"

"Yes…" Hermione said, and her confusion as to where this was headed was obvious. Then her face cleared, and her mouth dropped to from an 'o' shape. "You eat it to kill the wolf inside of you."

Remus tried to smile, but he was crying silently. "It hasn't worked yet."

And she was startled at this boy sat in front of her. He was a living circuit of haywires and sparking edges, of static nerves and electrical charges, of heart and mind and Remus Lupin hated every part of it. There was so much hatred in his eyes, in his soul, and yet not one ounce of it was directed at the world.

No, his hatred was purely for himself.

And Hermione couldn't bear it.

AN:

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, any of its characters of the universe (unfortunately). If I did, you can guarantee there would be 7 books and films on the Marauders by now, and maybe even a real life Hogwarts. (I'd make a GREAT celebrity!)

James was very angry in this one... I had that planned as Sirius at first, but after being attacked, he would probably be rather subdued... AND I PROMISE I DIDN'T PLAN ON WRITING ANOTHER KISS! I just got caught up in the writing and I thought, 'She'd totally kiss him now.' It's like a thing that most good characters have- they can't bear to see weakness and so they alleviate it in any way they can (for example every time Katniss kisses Gale in the Hunger Games- there's passion there, sure, but it takes him being in pain for her to initiate it.)

But this kiss was totally necessary which I didn't realise at first. It puts his anguish into an even better perspective, I think but that's just my opinion.

Also a few choice swears/: -I actually hate swearing, but in writing, if I feel it's in character for them to swear, then they're going to swear, whether I like it or not. And there is absolutely no way that James would not swear if both Hermione and Sirius AND Remus were put in harm's way because of her mistake.

Anyway remember! Please leave a review! I'm thinking of updating tomorrow, but only if I get enough reviews (blackmail mwahah!).

So... as always- favourite line? Or paragraph? Or phrase?