A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. Your reviews were among my best presents this year. Thank you all. More is coming very soon - promise.

Chapter 18.

Elena sat upon the hillside, her knees drawn up and locked within the circle of her arms. Her gaze was fixed wistfully on five distant figures: one tall and lean, one bulky and towering, three short and slender. Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, was digging in his vegetable patch, and three students were helping him. Hermione, Ron and Harry - Elena remembered their names from her own lesson with them. They had seemed pleasant children. Hermione had especially endeared herself to Elena with her earnest enthusiasm for new knowledge.

But it was not the students she watched, nor was it Rubeus Hagrid.

It was Remus Lupin. He was looking much better than he had the previous week, she thought. Colour was back in his hollowed cheeks, and he was actually smiling as he listened to the teasing banter between his students. He kneeled to help Hermione as she struggled with a particularly stubborn root, tugging it easily from the earth. Elena marvelled, not for the first time, at how disproportionately strong he seemed to be. Hermione didn't seem to consider it odd, though. She smiled, and thanked him, and he stood up again, dusting dirt from his already fraying robes.

Ron, the red-haired boy, made some jibe that Elena couldn't quite catch, but they all laughed. It was a happy, unguarded sound, the kind of laugher shared by old and comfortable friends.

Elena sighed, suddenly feeling incredibly alone.

She hadn't meant to stop here. She had been taking herself for a walk, which she was not technically supposed to do on her own, but she had wanted to explore the grounds. She'd been strolling for almost an hour when she had come over the crest of this rolling hill and spied the little group beside Hagrid's stone cottage.

Perhaps it was foolish of her, but she had not been able to resist the chance to observe Remus unguarded and happy for once, just for few moments. The only face he showed to her these days was cold and meticulously polite, forcing distance between them, and every day it hurt her more than she cared to admit.

He was deliberately pushing her away, she knew that. But that almost made it worse. Whatever his secret was, it seemed he didn't trust her enough to share it, and didn't trust himself enough to let their relationship progress in the direction they both knew it had been going.

He felt something for her, of that she was certain, but exactly what that 'something' was she had no idea. For her own part, she acknowledged a deep and compelling attraction she could scarcely explain, coupled with a profound sense of … belonging … when she was near him. Everything felt right at his side. His intelligent conversation, his slow smiles, his velvet voice, his gentle strength, his quiet sadness… Everything he did caught her low in the stomach with a bittersweet mixture of longing and pain so intense that it frequently left her breathless. There was nothing about him she did not love.

Love is a strong word, Elena, she warned herself sharply. A dangerous word.

But what other word could she use? Nothing else could explain these feelings. Nothing else could have the power to hurt her so much, even while it brought a new and bittersweet lightness into her dark life.

She reached down to pluck at a loose thread in the hem of her robes. She longed to know what secret Remus concealed, if only so that she could help him, comfort him, the way he had helped and comforted her. But he didn't want her help or her comfort, she acknowledged with a pang. He held her at an arms length and continued to do so, showing no signs of relenting soon.

Then again, perhaps it was for the best? After all, the fact the he knew her secret now did not neutralise its threat. She was still living on borrowed time. Who knew how long she had to live before the dark men found some way of eliminating her for good? She ought to be concentrating on remaining carefully aloof during her respite at Hogwarts, and not allowing anyone to become too closely allied with her. That had been her original resolution. She really ought to have been the one pushing him away.

But then, she had never expected to be so sorely tempted. Had never suspected that someone like Remus Lupin existed in the world, with the power to make her feel breathless with a look and safe with one embrace. She had never expected … to fall in love.

The thread she had been pulling at broke with a snap. Elena stared at it for a moment, then got suddenly to her feet, making a short noise of exasperation in the back of her throat. This was ridiculous. She had fought too hard, and come through too much to let some silly infatuation with a man who had clearly demonstrated he wanted nothing to do with her to bring her to her knees.

She allowed herself one long last look, then turned abruptly and began climbing to the crest of the hill, away from Remus and his companions. Away from her own display of weakness.

She did not see the dark-haired boy glance up at the hillside where she walked, did not see him murmur Professor Lupin's name and gesture after her.

Remus went oddly still for just a moment, then turned his head.

"She was watching us," Harry said quietly, watching Lupin's face carefully. "She looked … sad. D'you think she's OK?"

Lupin did not answer for a moment. His gaze was fixed on Elena's retreating figure, his expression an undisguised mixture of surprise, pain and longing. He saw how her dark head was bowed, and her arms crossed over her chest as she walked. She was hurting, and he knew who was to blame. A vicious stab of guilt assailed him. He wished he could run after her, scoop her up in his arms, and show her just how much of an act his indifference really was. How all he really wanted to do when she was near was kiss her until she was breathless, and then a whole lot more besides. How he hated himself for what was, and what he had to do.

Harry observed the emotions that played across the face of his beloved teacher without comment.

"Miss Greenstone … will be fine, I'm sure." Lupin said at last, looking down at Harry and forcing a smile.

Harry didn't smile back. "I like Miss Greenstone," he said neutrally, "Don't you?"

Lupin's smile vanished at once. "Of course I do," he said stiffly, "Why should you think otherwise?"

The boy shrugged. "When she attends our classes, you seem … cold towards her. I was just wondering why."

"Miss Greenstone is a colleague, and as such she has my respect," Lupin said tightly, "I have not shown her anything less. But that is immaterial, Harry, when it is not an affair which concerns you. Perhaps you should let the private business of your teachers remain just that - private."

Remus pushed the shovel he was holding deep into the black soil with a loud crunch, then lifted it with the harsh scrape of dirt on metal.

Harry was silent for a long moment, watching Lupin digging with unnecessary vigour and concentration. Then he asked softly, "She doesn't know, does she."

The shovel paused, and Remus released a weary breath. "I thought I asked you to drop the subject, Harry," he said, but the bite had gone out of his voice and he sounded beaten.

He didn't want to have this conversation. He didn't need someone else to point out how badly he had treated Elena. He knew better than any one how much he was hurting her. But why didn't any one ask him how much it was hurting him? Because whatever Elena was feeling, he knew it couldn't possibly compare to the agony of guilt and frustration that pierced him to the soul, every time he entered a room where she was present.

That she should care for him, want him even, was miraculous to him. But to be forced by circumstance to reject her tremulously offered affection, and compound the pain of loneliness that already shrouded her battered heart… To be forced to hurt her… When she had already been hurt so terribly… It was almost more than he could bear.

But then - Dumbledore's Heir, one of the last great hopes of the wizarding world … and a werewolf?

Never. The idea was offensive. Impossible. He was not a fit lover or provider for any woman, let alone…

Let alone Elena.

Never mind that his heart yearned for her with ever-increasing devotion. Never mind that his desire for her burned so fiercely and intensely that he sometimes had to bite his own lips to keep from moaning her name aloud at nights. Never mind that he … that he loved her.

Biting back a vicious curse, Remus resumed his digging with renewed force.

With any luck, he would be exhausted by the time he fell into bed, and would be spared the pain of thinking any more today.