This is the last part of the challenge that I hope you all like...

"So you bit me," was all she could say hours later when the two should have been at breakfast. They ignored each other, their instincts begging to glance in the other's direction.

"I-I'm terribly sorry. You know it was an accident." Lupin's voice was hoarse, and she wondered if he was going to cry. Men don't cry often; especially Alpha male werewolves.

Her heart wrenched as she watched him fiddle his fingers around the loose threads of the oversized pajamas. When she looked out of the artificial window, she felt his eyes on her once more. Her heart clenched when she looked back at him.

He truly looked horrible. The circles under his eyes seemed to have grown larger, darker. His hair appeared ready to fall out from the stress he was facing; the grays threatened to overtake his whole head. And he looked like he hadn't shaved in a week.

Hermione should consider herself lucky she hadn't been bitten when she was younger.

"I was trying to protect you." His explanation snapped her from her thoughts, causing her to look back at him.

For once, his blue eyes didn't seem quite so intimidating.

"I had my mind; your Wolfsbane made sure of that," he continued, his voice growing deeper with every word. It was as if talking about anything that had to do with his disease made him hateful. It was a side to Remus she hadn't seen before. "That wolf has been bothering the other creatures of the forest. It was only a matter of time before it would have harmed a human."

She felt the need to comfort him and went to put her hand on his shoulder. Before she could, though, the flames in her fireplace came alive like the resurrected dead. A deep emerald green danced in the grate, and it spat out a rather fancy looking letter. Baffled, Hermione went to retrieve it from the worn-out carpet.

"Dear Hermione,

It's your darling friend writing once again! I have just spoken with Harry and Ron, and we've scheduled a luncheon at the new restaurant in the old part of Diagon Alley. It's called the Red Flames.

The reservation's for one o'clock, so please, if you're going to come, arrive at least ten minutes early.

Eagerly hoping you're coming,

Ginny…"

Hermione groaned loudly, not caring if Remus heard, and tossed the heavily perfumed parchment onto her ancient oak desk. It crashed ungracefully into a stack of books on werewolves that she used to read at night to help her fall asleep.

Remus's cobalt eyes queried her. He continued to play around with the pajama threads, his hairy calf enjoying the softness of her comforter sprawled across the bedding.

She sat next to his large and protruding foot, inhaling the masculine scent of him. As the awkward silence stretched to unhealthy levels, she marveled at his long toes and the hair that spurted from them.

She started when he put his own hand onto her shoulder where her bathrobe was slipping off. Feeling the heat radiate from her, he scooted closer and squeezed her shoulder in a supportive gesture. Perhaps he was trying to ease her nerves. He was always doing things like that. But before she could turn and look at his face and get lost in his eyes once more, he climbed off of the bed. She hastily pulled her bathrobe back up and blushed shamefully. What had she been thinking?

He turned back towards her and opened his mouth to speak. The thoughts had been sitting patiently on his mind for a while now.

"I'll come back this evening and see how you're doing, alright?"

She couldn't help but nod and stare at the ground. Her mind protested her hearts urge to watch him leave her private rooms. It scared her to realize that no one but he had dared to enter her bedroom without her permission. It scared her more that she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Hermione Jane Granger had just escaped what she liked to call her own personal hell.

Not only did lunch at the fancy restaurant rule as embarrassing, it ruled as something she had dearly hated – a nightmare ripped out from her mind that was traitorous enough to even conjure such atrocities!

After talking with Remus, she went to do her friendly duty to see Ron, Harry, and Ginny at the fancy restaurant to catch up on old times since they rarely visited each other. Everything had gone perfectly fine; they exchanged pleasant conversations with one another, talking about various things.

When Ginny asked Hermione how life was treating her, Hermione lied like she usually did when Ginny asked that question.

"Oh, things have been going great! Hey, did I tell you that Remus is my new assistant? He's a wonderful worker and such an achiever! Yesterday, we were debating about this book I had recently gotten in Flourish and Blotts…"

They lapsed into an awkward silence; regretfully, Hermione experienced this every time Ron looked at her and tried to bring up a safe topic of conversation for both of them. Though she had gotten over him years ago when they went their separate ways, it seemed Ron hadn't. It was easier to talk to Harry or Ginny, either or both of whom interrupted them when it seemed like they were about to start arguing again, or interjected a distraction if an awkward silence was about to creep up on them. Right in the middle of her conversation with Harry about self-stirring cauldrons, their food appeared. Not thinking clearly, Hermione grasped the pure silver utensils, ready to eat and continue their pleasant conversation.

Werewolves and silver do not mix well, and Hermione felt her hand burn like as if she had stuck it into a bonfire and could not get it out. She threw the utensil away, flustered in utter pain. Unfortunately, it flew across the room and stabbed a hot shot novelist in the arm. Luckily, no one else realized the origin of flight for said utensil.

Hermione's odd reaction with the silver forced her to tell her friends her deep, dark secret she'd shared only with Remus. To top the disaster off, she had to tell them in the public, as her friends wouldn't calm down enough to retreat to a private room. Hermione feared their public display would allow them to be overheard, leading to passers-by poking her with sacred, carved sticks in fear and scorn. But obviously no such thought entered her friends' minds.

Not only were Harry and Ron making a huge deal out of her new condition in the 'elegantly social' restaurant, but also they had declared their friendship over. They had called off all negotiation since she hadn't trusted them with her newfound damnation and tell them as soon as she had found out. She couldn't take it any longer.

After hell itself was over and done for now, Hermione found herself in her own private rooms, huddled on the floor, crying. She wished her life had not come to the way it was now, and it was all because of that stupid, stupid, bloody stupid plant!

Her hands vigorously wiped her tears away. She willed herself to not let their comments get the best of her. They'd be friends again; they'd make up like they always did. Right?

Just as she was about to continue drowning herself in her own misery and tears, she heard a small, gentle cough and looked up. The solemn, long face of Remus Lupin met her watery gaze.

"What do you want?" she asked dispassionately.

Of course, she knew why he was there. It was evening from what she could tell from her artificial window and he had said he'd come back to see how she was. He'd check to see if she was coping with everything in a healthy manner.

"You're door was open," was his explanation as he stood numbly in her doorframe.

"What do you want?" she repeated angrily. Her tears still unconsciously slipped from her burning eyes and rolled down her puffy, pink cheeks.

"You're crying." Brilliant bloody observation, Sherlock.

He edged closer and kneeled down before her weeping form.

"What do you want?" This time it was a hiss, venomous and low. She wanted to make her point clear: she wasn't in the mood for company. She knew Remus would not shun her. He had been shunned before and knew exactly how it felt to be disowned by people he loved. But it didn't matter; she wanted to be alone for now.

Before she could throw an unprovoked temper tantrum, he pulled her petite frame to his large, solid one.

This only brought more anger on her part as she began to punch and kick at him with all of her might. Just as she was about to play even dirtier and attack his most vulnerable areas, she felt his arm draw her even closer to him. It was as if he didn't care if he was hurt. Didn't he feel pain, too?

Of course he does, she thought. Unfortunately, I'm the one causing it.

The tide of her sympathetic thoughts caused her tirade to subside, and she relaxed her head against his chest. Tears began, each unselfish, each only for Remus.

After mere minutes of the odd bliss, he shifted their forms against her bed. Though startled, she soon relapsed into the pleasure of another's company. So long ago she remembered huddling to herself in the girls' bathroom. She remembered trying to drown herself in the sorrows of her first year at the magical academy, no friends to help her adjust. Oh, how she would have loved the company of someone, besides the troll, to comfort her frail state of mind. She recalled Ron's rather hateful words then, just as she had moments before Remus came to comfort her now.

Lupin fingered her hair lovingly. It was pleasing, pleasurable to feel, especially when, deep down, she wanted him to touch her as much as possible. No one had dared to do it before – too afraid to ensnare their fingers within the depths of her unruly hair, most likely.

His scent inhaled into her brain, fogging it momentarily.

"Hermione," he murmured quietly. She responded with a soft 'hmm'. "I really like you."

Though she found the line rather cheesy and something a hormonal teenager would say to lose his virginity before any of his friends, she was still flattered, She expressed her gratitude, replying with, "I like you, too, Remus."

In the ensuing silence she heard the soft drum of his heart beat rhythmically in his chest.

"I really, really like you," he murmured once again.

"As do I," she responded, feeling quite childish as a small smile formed on her puffy face. She rubbed her head against his soaked shirt - she would have to apologize for that later, of course. She could feel the muscles under her face constrict, as if needing to gasp out a small amount of air for courage.

Silence floated around them awkwardly as if targeting their less-than-obvious weaknesses.

She felt him try to form words, but they never escaped his thin lips.

Just as she looked up to see if he was all right, his lips touched hers, quietly cutting off her question. Though taken aback by his stunning actions, she nonetheless quickly responded. She felt her back arch as his hand curled around the curves of her lower back.

Their lips readjusted to mold to each other in various ways. It was almost as if he was seeking the perfect way to further and hurry things along without trying to seem like he was too eager.

A moan erupted from her throat as their tongues began to caress each other. His boldness had her wanting to dearly express her own locked-away feelings for him. She ran her small nose around his jaw, breathing in his harboring scent and tenderly kissing his rough skin. Her hands began to search around him, feeling the nuisance called clothes and the flesh he held beneath the layers. She felt his breath hitch as she found a sensitive spot behind his ear.

Her own breath caught as his hands began their own excavation up her trembling form. Never had she felt such fire or passion for another. A priest could have tried to slaughter the beast she was and she wouldn't have cared. As long as she had Remus joining her in their trip to haunt the Earth, nothing mattered.

Her eyes rolled upward in pleasure as he took over once more, his primal instinct to be dominant now coming to the forefront. He began to kiss the flesh that protected her moaning throat.

Feeling someone so close made her yearn for a life with this man. Her body pleaded for the attention she regularly rejected. Her hands felt along the back of his throat to the curl of hair at the back of his neck. She began to toy with it, enjoying the sensation of something she herself had not dared tried to explore or admire.

Her body arched towards him; his hands held her waist to his. She felt his muscles flex expertly under the tips of her gentle and caressing fingers.

Their moans were soft, awkward, and could hardly be distinguished between them. It didn't matter, though, as their lips found each other again and again, continuing their desire to plug the drain of loneliness.

Minutes later, as if in silent agreement, they reluctantly let go their sweet, touching embrace. Her lips felt soft and sore, and her eyes lazily searched his face. He returned the look, his heart dancing under the tips of her fingers and his breathing coming out in quiet, satisfied gasps. A shared smile tugged at their lips, and they fell into an embrace, she hiding her head under his strong chin and he holding her tightly and protectively.

Hermione felt her tears dissipate along with the insecurity he usually brought to her every time she saw him. As she smelled his scent once again, something deep within her sprung to the surface:

This is my mate.

And for once, she didn't shun it to the back of her mind.

After a little persuasion from Remus, Hermione informed Headmistress McGonagall of her new condition. When Hermione confessed her secret, the lady at first looked rather disapprovingly. But the anger and dissatisfaction was diminished when she hugged the crying werewolf tightly and reassured her with kind words.

Amazingly enough, Hermione still had her job. But as a consequence to her admission, she still had to take the long-ago and forgotten Ministry test to ensure they which employee was a werewolf. This, of course, brought her public humiliation once it was discovered that she had been cursed.

She was forced out of stores and libraries because she was a werewolf. Amulets of pure silver were shoved in her way from either the homeless people or young parents 'protecting' their children. Her ego was hurt her ego and her dignity bruised, but she knew she would have to face it. Remus had for most of his life, so if he could do with a warm smile still on his face, so could she!

Even in classes, Hermione was forced to face humiliation. She had once even taking over three hundred points from Ravenclaw House because her students wouldn't stop chanting rather ridiculing songs they had immaturely made up. They had even started making fun of Remus when he entered the room to help Hermione gain control of the class once again. His faced had burned in embarrassment as the students began to question his mating activities with her, if there were any. Though she silently considered his actions sweet, she was forced to fill up Filch and Hagrid's schedule with very punishing detentions.

But, as always, Remus was by her side, standing tall in most of the dark situations she was forced to encounter. One time a wizard recognized her as she was walking down the high street of Hogsmeade, Remus' hand in hers. Unprovoked, the wizard threw his produce at her until Remus publicly hexed him and forced him to apologize to her. People could be so cruel.

But even in the most devastating times came hope. Remus, most of the time, was her hope.

He and Hermione had begun dating. For months they pursued the relationship they knew they were meant to have, regardless of society's unfair appraisals. Every morning Remus had a fresh vase of flowers sitting on her desk, and every night he spent time with her as she tried to develop new potions to help their kind. And, during every transformation, they were together, through the pain and through the long nights that were once considered scary, dark, and lonely.

They were happy with each other, accepting nothing less or more in life than what they had to offer the other. Though considered too meek and unworthy by other's standards, their love alone was enough for them.

And even though most people expected a happy ending filled with roses, Hermione was content, happy even, with her bittersweet ending with Remus – an ending filled with the flowers he picked for her every morning.

And for once, she was happy to be a misplaced one.

Alright, like I said before, this is the last part that I hope you all liked as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Review please!