Ah! Yes, I know, I know. I truly deserved to be considered as evil as my cat -- which, to me, is quite extreme! -- and honestly, I cannot allow myself to make up excuses or anything stupid of the sort.

I promised myself when I started updating this story I would update whenever I could; however...unfaithful me has been very bad and need to apologise to my lovely fans out there who have been patiently waiting! I hope this chapter is to your liking, and I promise that if I can get on the computer and update, I will!

(Also -- apology to R J Lupin's Kat. No more Kat Korner, not to offend you or anything, but I was adding too much crap in and forgot about the fact that I was updating chapters, not a newsletter.)

All That is Wrong

Chapter 26 -- Realizations

April unfolded before her very eyes, bringing with it the promise of spring. The first Tuesday of the month found Hermione wearily returning to her room after afternoon classes. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically. She was tired of the looks. She was tired of the snickering remarks behind not-so-discreet hands. She was tired of explaining to Justin that no, she wasn't allowed to do Head Girl duties, and that no, she couldn't just 'sneak out' and patrol the corridors with him.

It didn't help that she had the weight of Micah Hallam's past on her shoulders. The memories he had slyly shown her through dreams refused to escape the trappings of her mind. She knew personal – very personal – things few others did, and the responsibility draped upon her like a leaden robe. So by Tuesday's end, she was seeking only the counsel of her bed.

She reached her room with Remus right behind, a silent shadow of conscience and defense. After placing her palm to the door to gain entrance, she pushed through, dropped her bag in the middle of the room, and fell onto her bed with a sigh. It had been a very long day.

She savored only a few moments of sheer pleasure before returning to the reality of school. She had homework to attend, after all, and it wasn't going to answer itself. Groaning beneath her breath, she abandoned the comforts of the bed for her hardback chair and desk. She began to sift through her neatly organized books and papers, setting out what she knew she would need for the evening's assignments. Through the rustle of parchment, though, she distinctly caught a shuffling noise behind her. Turning, her eyes widened in amused surprise. Remus was stretched out upon her bed, lazily making himself comfortable in a burrowing fashion.

"Wake me when it's time for dinner," his muffled request came through the pillow his face was buried into. He readjusted again, this time rolling lethargically onto his back, his eyes shut to the world, an arm draped lazily across them.

"Remus, don't be such a bum," she replied, trying to hold in her laughter at seeing his face contort from happiness to utter pleasure. He let out a low moan.

"So far this mattress is by far my most favorite."

"Most favorite? And how many have you deigned to test, may I inquire?" Her arched brow sought an answer with both playful curiosity and genuine interest.

He hesitated, a deep chuckle prefacing his answer. "Oh, a few… here and there."

The replying snort was unladylike, full of speculation and, well, embarrassment. But she trouped on. She could play his game. Hermione Granger wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

"Oh, do tell," she suggested, leaving her desk in soft tread toward her protector. His stance suggested such an innocent subject, yet…

It was his turn to snort. "Kiss and tell? I'm a gentleman, Hermione," his soft reply chastised. A wolfish smile tinged his answer. "I don't tell…"

Hermione bit her lip, her sudden loss for words uncomfortable. Heat crept across her face.

A rapping at the door saved her silenced response. She crossed the room, opening the heavy oak with a preoccupied mind.

No one appeared. She glanced down the corridor to both side, puzzled. No trace could be found. Feeling silly, she tossed her arms about in front of her, just in case it was Harry or Ron in Harry's Invisibility Cloak. No such luck.

Shrugging it off as an under-classmate's prank, she softly shut the door, hoping not to disturb Remus. The gentle, slow rise and fall of his chest suggested he'd slipped into slumber already.

A smile tugged at her lips, and she started forward, her intent solely on the adorable picture before her. Unfortunately, coordination abandoned her just a few steps in, and she tripped herself up, stumbling comically toward the bed. She caught herself quickly - directly on top of Remus.

Jolted from his short-lived nap, Remus flung his arms about, catching the volleying weight to his midsection. His fuzzy mind grasped for clearance as his 'catch' turned out to be quite feminine. His eyes focused – bushy hair, school robes, blushing cheeks. Amusement rose and he arched an eyebrow in silent question.

Hermione could scarcely meet his gaze, her scarlet skin desperate to hide beneath her locks. A great sense of déjà vu overwhelmed her, and she felt none-the-better for it, either. Why were the fates tormenting her so? Would someone please answer her, someway, somehow? A loud, stern cough granted her request.

Startled, Hermione glanced over her shoulder. Oh, just great! Here we go again…

Micah stood in the middle of her room, his yellow eyes narrowed, his arms crossed. Unlike every other time, his hood was down, revealing pale, pointed features. His matted hair fell in a surprisingly graceful wave upon his face. But the frown etched upon those lips cut her heart deeply; with little doubt she knew she'd hurt him… again.

Her face burned a deeper red, but this time in shame. Is this how Ron had felt when she had caught him with Lavender on Christmas?

Banishing Ron from her mind, she jolted up from the bed, turning her back to Micah as she tried desperately to straighten her appearance. She knew she looked guilty, and shame tugged at her relentlessly. He would, of course, assume the worst; his previous lover had cheated on him, and he seemed to mark her as his current one. Though not in the least accurate, she didn't want to hurt him any more than he'd already been.

"What did you think you were doing, werewolf?" Hallam hissed furiously. He grabbed at Remus, jerking him away from her. Swinging his booted foot wildly, his anger moved to beat Remus through old-fashioned Muggle strikes.

Just in time Remus managed to grab his wand and hex himself free. Unfortunately, he found himself without purchase and collided heavily with the floor. His reflex to rebound was surprisingly swift. He and Micah moved into en guard position, wands at the ready.

"Stop it!" Hermione scrambled to step between the two, desperate to break up the coming fight. However, Micah sensed her intentions and, moving with blinding speed, intercepted her and shoved her viciously to the bed.

Momentarily shocked and disoriented, Hermione took a moment to gather herself and regain her balance. She sat up, and immediately wished she hadn't. The scene before ripped through her, creating fear she hadn't known existed. She stared transfixed, muted.

Micah, enraged by his interpretation of the two Gryffindors' actions, was holding Remus inches aloft – by his throat. The latter's face colored. First pink, then red, tinting toward a sickly purple…

"Why do you persistently stay near her?" Micah muttered ever so softly. His words were edged in ice. "You have better things and missions to do, so why do you insist on protecting her?"

Remus didn't respond, and Micah grew further agitated. His hold tightened as his fingers squeezed indignantly. "Answer me!"

Remus made for the phantom wizard's hand, his long fingers attempting to pry the talons loose from his neck. His hoarse voice forced an answer through. "Because I love her!"

Micah dropped Remus instantly, a bemused look forming on his face. Hermione, however, wasn't amused. It took her a moment to remember how to breathe. Instead of rushing to Remus' side to check him over, she sat stone still atop her comforter, stupefied by shock. He what?

Micah wasn't appeased by this revelation, however. Once again he grabbed for Remus, this time latching his palm onto the werewolf's forehead and visibly draining him of his energy.

All Hermione could do was stare. How had she not realized it before?

Thinking back, she realized that Remus must have at least liked her before he returned last year as her bodyguard. He had complimented her to Eucken; he had even volunteered to protect her himself. Did he have ulterior motives for doing so? Perhaps to remain by her side through some sort of quiet longing?

But how could Remus love her? She was clever, intelligent. Her loyalty was unwavering. And like him, she had a dry sense of humor. But she wasn't a beauty. No, not by any means. She was adequate, inoffensive to the eyes, nothing more.

A memory from the Hospital Wing flashed in her mind. Judy, Ginny, Eucken, Mad-Eye, all discussing her situation. Mad-Eye and Eucken were arguing…

"Lupin would have never tried to rape a student. He has control; he would never let himself have feelings for a girl half his age."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Oh, how she hated irony right now.

She was snapped from her train of thought by the crash of Remus' body to the floor. Micah had let him go, shoving him back to the hardwood in anger. Hermione looked up at Micah, his bright yellow eyes piercing.

"Do you feel the same way about him?" His voice was solemn, almost… regretful?

"As a friend, yes," she replied hesitantly, now questioning her own feelings. "But, I – I had no idea he felt differently about me. Micah, what you saw before… it was an accident. I fell, that's all. I don't want to hurt you; I don't want to hurt anyone. You know that."

A silence fell over the room. Micah looked at her steadily, his face softening from resentment to regret to compassion.

"You know I love you, don't you?" he questioned at a whisper, almost as if afraid that if he spoke any louder the spell of the moment would break.

"Of course," she replied, trying desperately hard to give him a reassuring smile. She really didn't want to see him hurt, nor Remus, and she was terrified of what Micah might do if she openly rebelled against him. "After all you've done for me, how could I not know?"

A groan echoed throughout the room, preempting Micah's answering smile. His resentment towards the werewolf returned and he grabbed the front of Remus' shirt and forced him to his feet. His nostrils flared in controlled fury.

Remus, however, held his ground. "I am in love, whether you like it or not!"

This caught both Hermione and Micah by surprise. Hermione had thought Remus would have done something different – perhaps kicked or jinxed Micah. Some sort of act to escape, at least. But no. Instead he reiterated his feelings. And he wasn't finished.

"I may be a werewolf, but that doesn't mean I don't feel. I'm still a man, for God's sake! I know anger; I know pain. I've known sorrow and regret. But I've also known pleasure and joy. And love… even love.

"No, I'm not the most handsome or charming wizard in our world, nor perhaps the best man for Hermione, but it doesn't change how I feel. I don't care. I love her. And you can't punish me for that!"

Remus swayed dangerously. Though his face had returned to natural color, he was still suffering the ill-effects from lack of oxygen. Hermione watched intently, unsure of her next move and – shamefully – too absorbed with wonder of how much Remus was going to confess.

"I may be a lonely old man," Remus continued quietly, "but that doesn't mean I'm some sick, twisted monster. Sure, I could seek out someone of my own kind – a female werewolf live out my life with. But I don't want that; I won't settle. I want true happiness, true love. I want Hermione.

"You're powerful; oh yes, I'll give you that. And you've dark magic to your advantage. But all your strengths can't change my feelings for her. Frankly, I don't give a damn anymore what you do; just leave Hermione out of this."

A tangible pause hung in the air. Then Micah hissed his words, sneering amusement evident. "How… touching." He flexed his fingers, their long grace transforming into claws. "You're just as stubborn as Eucken… before I persuaded him. Hopefully, however, you'll possess the challenge I've desired. He was simply too easy…"

Micah, his eyes now wide, advanced on Remus. The werewolf instantly grabbed his stray wand from the floor.

Fearing the worst, Hermione jumped off of the bed, anxious to prevent the coming fight. It was not to be, however. Remus – never breaking eye contact with Hallam – grabbed and tossed her back toward the bed. It was a matter between the two men.

Micah's face grew furious.

"You dare to touch her like that in front of me?" Micah growled angrily.

"You did the same thing," Remus replied coolly, his face set and stern as he gripped his wand even tighter.

"Stop it! Right now! Stop this nonsense!" Hermione may as well have been hexed with a silencing charm for all the attention they paid her. Her throat constricted in fear and frustration, and she gripped the bedclothes beneath her with restrained emotion.

Suddenly, Micah pounced onto Remus, sending both of them crashing to the floor. Micah's claws repeatedly stabbed the wooden floor, each time falling just shy of Remus, who was dodging the moves with a surgeon's precision.

With considerable effort, Remus kicked Micah off of him and managed himself to his feet. He was panting with the effort, his face flushed. Outraged, Micah regained his footing and stood, trembling with rage.

It was too much to behold, but it was also too late to intervene. For her to try something now, Hermione knew that not only would she herself get hurt, but most likely one or both of them. Instead, she grabbed her wand, preparing herself for whatever happened next. She needn't wait long.

Remus aimed a few curses at the cloaked figure, missing him by inches. Important parchments and notices went up in flames; an oil lamp disintegrated; bed-curtains tore in triplicate parallel. Bent on destroying one another, they were destroying her room.

Then suddenly, Micah disappeared. A smug smirk his last impression, he faded into the shadows. All was still, but for the pained breath of her protector.

Remus waited for Hallam to return, glancing about the room cautiously. Hermione, too, waited and wondered what Micah was going to do now. Was he going to kidnap her or… worse?

"Everything's safe now. He seems to have retreated."

She looked up at Remus, an uncomfortable concern upon her. What was going to happen between them now? Would he force matters further after such a revelation? Or would they pretend nothing happened, that he had not declared passionate love for her?

Just then, Remus, with an eerie, determined face, climbed onto the bed with her.

Instinctively Hermione crawled up to the headboard, her wand out and ready to defend herself.

Remus, however, seemed little fazed and continued to crawl hesitantly, slowly toward her. It was almost as if he was battling with himself. Just as she was ready to jinx him, he stopped, murmuring to himself. He latched onto the bedpost, anchoring himself away from her. It was then Hermione realized that Micah was trying to control Remus and force him to do his bidding.

Not wanting to break his concentration, she kept her mouth shut. This internal war he was fighting was taking a toll on him, and she mentally questioned how much strength he had left. Try as she might, she couldn't think of a single thing she could do to help the situation.

A sudden gasp from Remus turned her attention back to him. He was staring at her, his bright blue eyes penetrating her own. They were comforting, and she took a relaxing breath as he let go of the post and sat up carefully, awareness still visible in his tense posture.

Without warning Micah appeared from the shadows, his claws flexing dangerously once again, a wide, evil grin caressing his face.

Taking the initiative, Remus dove toward Hermione and grabbed her thin, frail wrist and pulled her to him. Micah pounced, aiming his claws at Remus' head. Both she and Remus ducked. Heart beating wildly with fear, Hermione grasped tightly to the man before her, inhaling his familiar scent as a source of comfort. It didn't help.

But in the midst of drama, she failed to notice one very important move: Remus had slipped the ring from her finger.

A sense of calmness spread through her. Her anxiety lessened, her fear dissipated. But it didn't last long, however.

A random hand grabbed her lower back and an arm wrapped itself around her shoulders. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt the warmth of his breath against her ear. Remus threw Hermione to the bed, startling her into awareness. He rolled both of them off the bed just as Micah landed on it, his claws stabbing the mattress.

Hermione landed on top of Remus, her limbs entwined with his. Though embarrassed and uncomfortable in such a compromising placement with him, a feeling of déjà vu skipped across her mind. Even in the violent struggle, Hermione couldn't help but realize her position against him as a thrilling one.

Her breath once again hitched as he looked up at her with something in his eyes she couldn't quite understand. Her fingertips unconsciously massaged at his chest, neither pushing nor pulling away.

She had no time to analyze this new experience, though, as he immediately rolled her off of him and pushed her roughly away to the underside of the bed. She caught sight of his pulling his wand from the inside of his robes just before the bed-skirt fell, blocking her view.

All was dark about her, and for a moment she became disoriented. Sound was both muffled and intensified, and her skin was ultra-sensitive. What was happening? Was Remus all right? Where was Micah now? Had he retreated again, to leave them in peace?

Suddenly something grabbed her and she was yanked violently out from under the bed. A strangled whimper escaped her lips as she struggled against the steel-like grip. A familiar scent caught her attention and, tossing her hair out of her eyes, she peered at her captor to see a reassuring sight. Remus.

Great relief and pleasure washed over her, and she accepted his offer to help her stand with him. Tearing her eyes from him, she looked across the bed to Micah to see him frozen in a frustrated state. Hate filled his eyes as he stared at Remus, and Hermione glanced back to see what had brought on this new level of anger.

Remus was holding the ring. Taunting Micah with it, actually.

Micah transformed his claws back into his human-like hands and relaxed his expression. He now seemed amused, as though accepting this new dilemma as a mere challenge.

"I'll be back for more," was all he said before disappearing into the shadows, his grin lingering deeply in Hermione's mind like a foul and unpleasant odor.

"He's gone, for now. But he'll be back." Remus spoke as much to himself as to her. He suddenly let her go, stepping away as though burned. Hermione couldn't help but inwardly cringe. Was she really so unworthy? But his smile, distant though it was, was reassuring.

A minute passed in awkward silence, and the events of the evening fell into jagged puzzle pieces, crying to be joined. After a moment's contemplation, she drew a breath of courage and spoke what troubled her mind. It was little more than a whisper.

"You don't really love me, do you?" It was almost a statement.

She had tried for nonchalance, but it came out wrong. A sad desperation laced her words. It didn't help that she wished he would say 'yes'.

He hesitated in answering, refusing to meet her eyes. Instead, his gaze rested at a point just past her right shoulder. When he spoke, his response was cool, calculated.

"No, Hermione. It was a diversion, a trick. I had to get Hallam to let my throat go. He was too strong and magic wouldn't help me." He spared her a glance, then turned away quickly, toying with the ring betwixt his fingers. Her pain lay evident upon her young face.

He retired heavily to the nearby chair, running a hand through his graying hair and sighing deeply. His voice softened. "I do love you, Hermione, but as a friend only. I was bluffing before, like in that Muggle card game."

Abruptly he rose and, averting his eyes, stepped across the room to his attaché case. Pulling parchment, quill and ink from it, he settled back in the chair and began to write, signaling their conversation at an end.

Hermione could only watch dully, the heavy weight in her stomach vying with uncertainty and confusion. What had just happened, really? The dynamics between them had changed – definitely and definitively. But was the change between the two of them, or just in herself?

Did she honestly want to know?

I know -- evil! So sorry I am. :)