Hogsmeade smelled like hot pumpkin pie and cauldron flames. Autumn seemed to wrap its arms around the little town, its leaves floating through the air every so often on a cool breeze kissed with sunshine.

Hogwarts students bustled in and out of packed shops, laughing with their classmates, their pockets overflowing with sweets.

Hermione and Ginny walked around the corner of Canticle Street onto a quieter lane of cafés and specialty shops. There, a group of first-years gathered around a trio of jugglers in jester costumes. But aside from their laughter, the area was pretty peaceful.

"Do you mind if we take a look in the bookshop, Gin? I heard the second edition of Hogwarts, A History is going to hit the shelves soon and I'd like to reserve a copy."

Ginny gave Hermione a pointed look that was not at all what the older girl had expected.

"Actually, Hermione, I was hoping we could talk," she said seriously.

Instantly concerned for her friend, Hermione was startled.

"Of course, Ginny. Is there something wrong?"

"Well, no. It's just… let's go sit over there." She gestured to a bench near the fountain at the center of the square.

"Sure," Hermione answered, puzzled.

The two girls walked in silence to the edge of the fountain and sat with their backs to the statue of Circe.

Ginny was quiet, seemingly gathering her thoughts before she spoke to her best friend.

"What is it, Gin?" Hermione asked softly.

"Hermione, you've completely changed." Ginny recoiled slightly at how blunt she'd been. "It's just, well, I'm not the first person to notice… I hardly know who you are anymore."

Hermione sighed.

"I'm sorry, Mione, I'm your friend and everything. But I think that means we're supposed to tell each other things and--"

"I know," Hermione said, raising her palm gently, but effectively cutting her off. "I also figured that you're not the first to notice. And I know that it must seem so out of place."

"Out of place? Hermione, you don't go to the library anymore. You spend all your time in your room doing Merlin knows what. And that's your business. I respect that. But you've been avoiding all of your friends."

"Gin-"

"Harry's told me you've started sneaking around at night, alone. He's noticed his Invisibility Cloak's gone missing more than once in the middle of the night. Can you blame me for worrying about you? It's gotten to the point where everyone in Gryffindor's at least wondering what's going on."

"Ginny, please, I know." Hermione furrowed her brow a little.

"Plus, you've changed your wardrobe." Ginny looked her up and down, her hand splayed in an act of affectation.

"I certainly hope that's not a bad thing." Hermione frowned.

"No, not bad, just… different. You're awfully dressed up for a Saturday of shopping in Hogsmeade."

This she could not deny.

Hermione wore a black cashmere turtleneck that fit snugly to just below her hips. A creamy Victorian lace skirt fell gently to her knees where a pair of black high-heeled suede boots met the uneven hem. Her hair was twined into a tousled French braid, soft curls straying from behind her ears and at the nape of her neck.

She wore no makeup but a swipe of the vanilla lip balm she always carried with her, adding an additional sheen to her already radiant face. She would never need makeup.

Creamy skin that held the tone of a white-fleshed peach, a natural rose glow to her cheeks and lips, enhanced in heat or cold. Her eyes were chestnut rich and defined with lashes dark enough to give her the illusion of the liner Parvati always used.

Hermione had the sort of beauty women envied--the kind of beauty makeup was created to emulate. Though, she would not be one to think this of herself.

"I'm actually meeting someone tonight," she said with a small smile.

Ginny's eyes widened and she let out a squeal.

"Oh, who?"

Hermione looked up to the blue sky overhead. The sun shone down on her face with welcomed warmth. She smiled.

"Professor Lupin."

Ginny grabbed her friend's shoulders and because of the sudden shift, nearly fell into the fountain.

"What!" she screamed.

"Shh, Ginny!" Hermione looked around, panicked that someone would think she was breaking up with Ginny.

Thankfully, the first years had gone, along with the juggling troupe.

"Yes, I am seeing Professor Lupin tonight. It's--"

"As in… as a date?"

"Yes, I suppose. As a date." Hermione blushed a little at that. It was still unbelievable to her and she couldn't help but grin at her friend's excitement.

"Hermione!" Ginny shrieked.

"Ginny, sssshhh!" Hermione looked around again.

"Sorry…" Ginny looked around as well, realizing her fault. "Hermione, do you know what this means?"

"Besides the fact that I'm dating a professor?"

"Only one of the best looking professors that's ever graced Hogwarts halls! Oh gosh, Lavender would kill you if she knew."

"Ginny, you can't tell anyone." Hermione became serious again in her tone of voice.

"I know, I know. I would never, Hermione." She gave a goofy grin and poked Hermione's arm playfully. "No wonder you've been acting so strange lately! This explains the whole Invisibility Cloak stunt perfectly."

Just after the second or third nudge and wink, Ginny suddenly looked as guilty as if she'd committed a crime.

"Oh, I'm so sorry I thought it was something serious. I'm so sorry I thought you were up to something, or in trouble. I just read into it wrong. Here you've gone and snagged yourself a man! A professor no less!... And one hell of a sexy professor!"

"Ginny, it's really not what you think it is."

"Oh, but it could be. He must really like you. Who wouldn't?"

Hermione immediately felt the familiar ache of guilt at Ginny's words. The last thing she wanted was to lead Remus on.

She was flattered he had asked her. And if he really had feelings towards her she couldn't help thinking she was the luckiest girl in the school. Nevertheless, however much she wished it were that simple, Remus Lupin was secretly not the professor she wished had asked her to dinner.

No matter how new and unsought these feelings towards her Potions Master were, they could not simply be shelved at the back of her mind anymore. The way she felt when he was near her. The way he appeared so gorgeous in the moonlight of The West Tower. She had not forgotten. She knew it was impossible to forget.

"Hermione, are you listening to me?"

"What?"

"Silly, I just said I bet he'll ask you to the ball."


The door to The Three Broomsticks swung open and closed behind the two Gryffindor girls. The pub was busy. Almost every table was full of students laughing, drinking Butterbeer, and eating sandwiches.

Madam Rosmerta was bustling behind the bar, pushing new drinks and cocktails in every direction on the battered wooden bar-top.

A charmed radio blared the commentary of the occurring match between the Chudley Cannons and the Ballycastle Bats. Most of the seventh-year boys leaned in over their lunch to listen. They gathered around the bar stools on the left side of the pub, swearing and poking at each other with each new score. Some of them were perhaps a little tipsy.

"And a nice Bludger hit by Joey Jenkins sets the Bats back a few meters… and… Oh! The Bats have the Quaffle…"

"Damn it!" Ron Weasley shouted above the crowd, his red hair flipping in exasperation. "They'll score for sure now, they will."

Hermione glanced quickly at Ginny.

"You didn't tell me the boys were going to be here, Gin," she said in a low voice.

"Oh I know, Mione. I thought I'd surprise you. I arranged for us to meet up for lunch!" Ginny pulled her friend's arm a little harder than was comfortable. "Come on, they're all at that table by the window."

Sure enough, Ron had just joined Seamus, Neville, and Harry at the table nearest the window. The heat from the pub had fogged up part of the pane and a jack-o-lantern was sitting on the window sill, its lopsided face leaked with the wax from the candle inside it so it appeared to be drooling.

"Well, I am very much surprised, Ginny," Hermione said, remembering Harry's note on her dresser and the painting. She winced a little.

"…And a penalty against the Bats… haversacking. No score!"

"Bloody serves 'em right!" Ron shouted, taking a swig of Butterbeer that dribbled down his chin. He looked up at Hermione, then quickly looked away.

"Ahoy, Ginny, Mione… come siddown!" Seamus called. "We got us another round of Butterbeer and a fish and chips platter."

The girls moved into the empty seats, Ginny with a grin on her face and a sigh of relief as she set down her shopping bags. Hermione seemed to focus her attention to the deep wood grain of the table-top.

"And it seems Gudgeon's spotted the Snitch… he's moving in, but oh, a Bludger narrowly misses his right ear… Ballycastle's outsmarted them for another play!"

"Ballycastle's as dirty as Slytherin, they are!" Ron shouted again. "They should foul them just for being so hideous."

"Ha ha! It's no wonder they're Malfoy's favorite team," Neville interjected as a bunch of Slytherin sixth-years cheered on the Bats from a few tables close to the bar.

"It's no wonder… 'cause their Seeker looks like Snape!" Seamus added. "The greasy bat for the Bats!" He laughed until his face turned red and was shortly joined by Ron and Neville.

Harry met Hermione's eyes for the first time. His expression conveyed exactly what Hermione wished it wouldn't have.

Confirmed. He had seen the painting.

But then, as she thought it couldn't get any worse, Harry glanced sideways towards Ron and back to her.

Ron stopped laughing for a few seconds to make eye contact with Hermione. His expression was unreadable… until he started laughing again, rising with Seamus to move closer to the source of the commentary.

"We'll come get you when the fish comes, mates!" Neville called to them.

Seamus gave a thumbs-up sign.

"What's up with Ron, Harry?" Hermione asked immediately.

Harry eyed her suspiciously then, hoping she would understand…

"He was the one that found your lost wand."

"Oh," was all she could say. She was not prepared to deal with Ron seeing her masterpiece as well. So far he hadn't said a word about it.

"…And Gudgeon snatches the Snitch! Winning the match, 230-180 Chudley Cannons!"

"Woohoo! In your face, Ballycastle Butts!" Ron squealed, slapping Seamus a high-five. "That means… On to battle Wimbourne next week!"

"The Wasps don't stand a chance," Seamus said as he slid back into his chair at their table. "I'm gonna find Bagman and bet him on it. Ten galleons."

"Not if I get to him first," Ron replied.

The waitress zoomed by the table and set a bottle of malt vinegar down as she passed--a sign that the food would soon arrive.

"Nice to see you've finally decided to join us, Mione," Ron challenged.

"Yes, Ron." She glared at him, obviously not in the mood to have an argument.

Harry glanced between his two friends, desperately needing to say something to keep them from hexing each other under the table.

"So, Ginny, where did you two go this morning?" he asked, pleading with her to lighten the mood of their get-together.

"Oh, Harry… we found the most wonderful perfumes. Hermione ordered her copy of the second edition Hogwarts, A History. And then we stopped in Zonko's for some Every Flavor Beans… and we looked at the new Puffskeins in the pet shop…"

"Oh no! You mean, you didn't make a stop at Wendelin's?" Ron interrupted.

"No." Ginny looked at her brother in question. "Why would we need art supplies?"

"No reason." Ron snatched another bottle of Butterbeer from the tray that the waitress had just brought.

"Hermione, do you have any idea what he's talking about?" Ginny asked her, confusion apparent on her freckled face.

"Um… Oh, Neville, what happened to your leg!" Hermione avoided the conversation and noticed two crutches, a surprisingly Muggle device she hadn't seen in ages, propped against the windowsill behind his chair.

"Oh, Hermione, didn't you hear?" Ron asked sarcastically. "You'd think the Head Girl would know when the Head Boy has to be sent to the Hospital Wing!" He turned to Neville and raised his bottle. "Sorry, Nev, I guess she's just been too caught up in her own business to care about what happens to us." He narrowed his eyes as Harry kicked him in the shin.

"I was wondering when you'd notice, Hermione," Neville said rather sadly. "I fell down the stairs to the dungeons yesterday and broke my leg in three places."

"Neville, that's horrible!" Hermione said in shock. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"I did," Ginny said resolutely.

"Madam Pomfrey can't do anything about my allergic reaction to Skele-Gro. I seemed to have developed it from using it so often, she said. So now I'm stuck with the crutches for another three weeks." Neville said dryly. "But hey, at least I won't have to embarrass myself at the ball!"

"What, by going on crutches?" Seamus asked confused.

"No, by dancing," Neville said with a grin. "Now I don't have to dance. I have an excuse… I was never that good at it anyway."

Everyone laughed a little at that.

"You girls have dates to the ball?" asked Seamus, an amusing look in his eye.

"Hermione looks like she has a date tonight," Ron added icily.

"And it just so happens that I do!" Hermione had had enough. Ron was not going to be free to walk all over her like this.

Harry coughed a little on his Butterbeer and stared at her in shock.

Ginny looked apprehensive.

"I do have a date tonight, Ronald!" she said loudly.

"Who with, Hermione?" he challenged, bringing his face closer to hers from across the table, his cheeks red from one too many Butterbeers. Their miniscule amount of alcohol was starting to have an effect. "Someone who likes to finger-paint monsters!"

He chuckled at this, unaware that the rest of the table was not laughing.

Harry was the only one who had any idea what was going on.

Hermione dropped her jaw in shock at his boldness.

"I'll have you know that who I date is none of your business! Just like what I decide to do in my spare time!" She stood and slammed her hands on the table, negligent of the waitress standing near with a steaming plate of fish and chips.

"I can date… and for that matter, paint… whoever the hell I want!" Her eyes widened in challenge. More ringlets came loose from her French braid.

"So you're dating Snape."

Seamus sprayed Butterbeer all over the table, coughing and sputtering. Neville gasped and Ginny let the vinegar spill a little too much over her chips.

"That's it, Ron!" she shouted, causing heads to turn in every direction.

Ron cringed at the sudden silence of the place, looking everywhere for a way out of the wrath of Hermione Granger… (He ended up finding it sitting at the bar.)

"How dare you even suggest something like that! I can't stand the fact that you feel I have to answer to you every second of every day! And even if I was dating Snape-"

"Hermione--" Harry started.

"Harry, you stay out of this! Even if I was dating Snape, spending every waking hour in the dungeons, painting ten thousand portraits of him and hanging them all over the walls of my room… Oh that would get to you, wouldn't it? I should try it. It might keep you from going through my things! What if I told you I cared for the man, Ronald?"

"Mione--" Neville started.

"No! I'm not finished!" She took a deep breath. "What if I was dressed up like this to meet Snape tonight?" She gestured to her outfit. She was having fun, the expressions on their faces so fearful and disgusted were just fuel for the flame. It felt good to let some of the energy go.

"What if I was going to run off to a deserted café somewhere to be with him… call him Severus. To think, even kiss him passionately in the street!"

"Ugh, Hermione…really…" Seamus was glancing over her shoulder.

"No!" she screamed. "All of you, I am an independent woman! I can date whomever I please. And even if I told you I was madly in love with Severus Snape, I would expect you to respect that! All of you, even you, Ginny."

"I--" Ginny started.

"So that's it!" Hermione ended her screaming fit with a few deep breaths, her face was red and her throat was hoarse.

The entire pub was silent, save for the radio that was advertising magical cameras. It seemed that every customer was holding his or her breath.

"Well fine then, Hermione," Ron said with a smirk forming on his red face. "Since you're so determined to snog him… here's your bloody chance." He chuckled.

Hermione blanched.

"He's right there," he said with the smuggest expression she had ever seen.

Her stomach felt like it was dissolving and evaporating. She could feel the seconds passing as her heart beat in her ears. Tears swelled to her eyes as she looked between each one of her friends. She noticed a table of Slytherins trying to conceal giggles at her dawning realization.

Ron made a sharp gesture towards the bar, his finger pointed over her shoulder. His eyes were challenging, holding menace, as well as the last laugh.

She gulped and turned, already swiping a finger to the tear below her cheek.

And she saw him there, in all of his distinction. His black robes pooling around the bar stool, his elbow folded on the edge of the bar, his elegant fingers clutching a tumbler of Firewhisky.

One of his boots was tucked into the crossbar of the stool and his other leg was stretched out in confidence, giving him a most dignified pose for a man on a bar-stool.

But the look on his face was one she had never seen.

He appeared to have come to some horrid realization. A sour scowl dominated but his brow was furrowed in surprise. His face conveyed a look of utter stupefaction. His silence screamed, "What!"

She looked to her feet, then back at him.

He obviously didn't know what to do. He studied her with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth. And although, under normal circumstances she would have thought his speechlessness to be impressive, there was nothing she felt more than a severe embarrassment.

She grabbed her shopping bags, and without a word or even a glance to her friends, pushed her way through the crowd and out of the pub.


Hermione spent most of the afternoon hidden away from the world in the bookshop.

Her pride was hurt more than anything else, but she'd never let on to anyone that her heart ached as well. She didn't mean to make such a spectacle of him, mainly because she knew he was hurting inside, even more than she was now.

Whatever had been bothering the man had caused him to weep alone on an abandoned tower in the middle of the night. Observing that was enough to make her insides ache with the need of comforting him… soften the lines of his face once more like she had seen in his office that night in detention.

This was not the way she had ever wished to go about involving Snape in her life. This was not the way she was supposed to feel after allowing her feelings to escape her mouth.

No one besides her really knew that she had meant those words, but he had still heard them. And the disgust and shock on his face was enough to make her want to live in a cave for the rest of her life.

Her skin was still burning with humiliation, her ears red with heat. Her eyes were stinging with tears even though she was sure he must have returned to the castle hours ago.

What did he think of her?

Through a gap in the shelves, a girl caught Hermione's eye.

Yeva Parajanov.

Her hair was pulled into a ponytail and she paused on the opposite shelf with a large book in her hands, reading.

She wore a white fluffy sweater and a pair of tight jeans. The white of the material was stark in contrast to the mocha of her skin and her long eyelashes were sweeping low as she looked down the page of the alchemy book she chose to pluck from the shelf.

Hermione found her appearance to be unsettlingly irresistible. Because she spent so much time studying the features of her Potions Master, she could not help but pick up on the similarities in the features of his niece.

Gods, she definitely had his nose, and his bone structure. Though she was very short, she was blessed with that exalted stance that was so distinctively his.

Hermione had to get out of there.

"Hey!" Yeva's voice sounded from behind her.

Too late.

Hermione turned, smiling the best smile she could muster. Considering who she was looking at, or rather, who the person she was looking at resembled, it was intimidating. But Yeva's eyes were surprisingly soft for a Slytherin… and for a relative of Snape.
"Hermione Granger, right?" the younger girl asked, thick accent rolling over the words.

"…Yes," Hermione replied tentatively.

"I'm Yeva Parajanov," she said with a smile.

"I know," Hermione replied.

"You're a seventh-year right?" Yeva asked, raising an eyebrow in such a way that gave Hermione no choice but to avert her eyes. "Friends with Harry Potter?"

"Yes, and a Gryffindor, if you didn't know," Hermione said proudly.

"Just because I'm a Slytherin doesn't mean I act like one."

"Well, that's a relief," Hermione said, adding quickly, "though, I'm not a Pureblood."

"As long as you're a witch, I don't have a problem with you."

"Fair enough," Hermione replied, not willing to go into a debate about the mistreatment of Muggles by inattentive Purebloods. She would have to save that for when she knew this girl a little better.

"I'm sorry that you had to endure my uncle in detention," Yeva said simply as she reshelved Alchemy in Eastern Europe.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in attempts to blot out the memory.

"You should know that I probably deserved it," she said disappointedly.

Yeva rolled her eyes playfully and fixed Hermione with a pointed stare.

"No one deserves detention with my uncle Severus." She laughed. "He is quite… intense."

Hermione snickered.

"Such a nice way of putting it."

"Well, he is family," she said with a sigh.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said sarcastically.

Yeva smiled thoughtfully.

"You know, it is unfortunate that you do not really know him… What you have seen, Hermione, is mainly façade."

And if you only knew how I truly feel...

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione found herself asking.

Yeva frowned.

"Because I can see that you are a smart witch… kind at heart." She looked to her shoes rather sadly. "I feel like our world needs more people like you. Especially now… now that everyone finally sees that it only takes one bad person to start a war…" She trailed off.

Hermione was struck by her comment.

"Muggles have had the same problem… in their history… their wars."

"Then why do they not help us?"

"I don't think it's fair to presume they understand our world, Yeva," Hermione said honestly.

"They do not want to," Yeva replied.

Hermione looked at the ceiling and placed a hand on her forehead in exasperation. "I didn't mean to turn this into a political debate. This is awful, our first conversation and my mouth is already running wild."

"My uncle says you're famous for that."

"Oh does he now?" Hermione asked jokingly. "And just how often have I come up in conversation?"

"Not often."

"I see," Hermione said with a suspicious stare. "You're a pretty good person too, Yeva," she added as an afterthought.

Yeva looked again to the carpet then ran her finger absentmindedly along the spines of the books nearest her right hand.

"You don't really know me."

"I don't have to… just like you said--"

"I just hope we can be friends." Yeva cut her off.

"Of course!" Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Why would you even feel the need to ask?" Her bright smile beamed.

"Most of the Slytherin girls are obnoxious."

"And I'm really starting to believe the Sorting Hat doesn't work on transfer students. You may belong in a different house," Hermione said honestly.

In between stacks of infinite wisdom with Hermione Granger, Yeva could only smile.


Hogsmeade was a different world at night.

Fairies took a liking to the boughs of harvest trees, imbuing them with hues of red and gold. A soft light could then be seen, reflected on the damp cobblestone roads.

Circe's fountain was illuminated, crystal water streaming from the folds of her ivory marble robes, splashing to a polished cerulean pool beneath her sandaled feet.

Storefront windows were auric with light. A rich, almost caramel brilliance surged from their wooden frames… compelling passers-by to admire the town's antique charm.

Scents of burning embers, timber, and herbs permeated the chilly air, assaulting Hermione's senses as her suede heels clicked along the sidewalk. She noticed her fingertips were a comfortable cold against the skin behind her ear when she lifted a few stray strands of her hair.

Honeydukes was filled with a mysterious lilac smoke as she passed. A woman appeared to be pulling a small child away from the basket of grape-flavored Firepops, and failing miserably at assuring the shop-owner she would pay for damages.

With a small smile, Hermione turned the corner of Canticle Street for the second time that day, past the bookshop with its stained glass mural of Greek goddesses, past the glowing marble fountain of Circe, past the Hog's Head Pub, and onto Sunset Lane.

Sunset was a whole new spectacle, with its historic piazza and wrought iron terrace that overlooked the sparkling inky surface of the lake. If a perceptive tourist were to lean a few feet over the railing of this terrace and look up, they would actually see the tip of the North Tower of Hogwarts peeking out from between the jagged cliffs.

The terrace had been there since the year the school was founded, and the path from the side gate once led to a dock for paddle boats.

It was the kind of place Hermione always said she never wanted to leave… and remained one of the most beautiful places she had ever been.

The cherry tree towards the rear of the square was enchanted. Even in winter its rosy blossoms filled the branches. And then it was a most fantastic sight. To watch the little pink petals flutter to a bed of snow was one of Hermione's fondest third-year memories… back before a threat of war, the onset of N.E.W.T.s, and the complications of falling in love with a professor… back when things were simple.

Café Soleil was an indoor/outdoor café. The indoor part was dimly lit and romantic, lined with invisible glass windows that lead to the terrace. The outdoor part was situated at the rear of the piazza, with tables all around the cherry tree. It was bustling with waiters and hosts busily clearing tables. For being one of the top restaurants in Wizarding Britain, it was always this busy.

Hermione nodded when she was approached by a short witch in an apron and asked if she had a reservation.

"I'm meeting someone here," she said softly, smoothing the cashmere of her sweater in an act of nerves.

"Oh yes," the witch replied in a voice that held the quality of a chain smoker. "He is waiting for you… right this way, dear."

Hermione did not need to follow the pointing hand of the woman. Her eyes had already met that of her date.

He looked absolutely striking in a fitted navy blue sweater and black chinos. She noticed he had donned a pair of black leather boots that were not all that different from a certain Head of Slytherin.

Hermione, get him out of your head.

His eyes were like fire and he smiled with such conviction she almost lost her balance. There was no denying Remus Lupin was an attractive man.

"Hermione, so glad you could make it," he said. "You look lovely."

Hermione blushed and sat across from him, her eyes followed the pattern of the iron tabletop before resting on the flickering candle at the center of the table.

Once she and Remus had taken their seats, the light of the small flame cast shadows to both of their faces and reflected the plastic of the menus.

"Thank you, Professor," she said.

"Please, Hermione, call me Remus," he said softly, pulling a bottle of chilled wine from an ice bucket that she hadn't noticed at first. "It will seem much less awkward that way, I assure you."

Hermione smiled, meeting his eyes again.

"I don't find it awkward at all, Remus," she lied. "Thank you," she added as he filled her glass with a crisp, white wine that she recognized instantly as Pinot Grigio.

"That's good to know, Hermione," he said sweetly. "Because I have been waiting since the beginning of last year to tell you how I truly feel."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, feigning confusion yet hoping he would change the subject.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked. A simple question with so deep an implication.

He studied the woman blushing before him with a softened gaze; an aura seemed to surround her with magnificence. Was it really this simple? Could she so easily return his affections the way he felt them for her?

It would be a dream then. Too perfect.

It was much too complicated to explain… the way he felt, almost a separation from reality. A selfish twinge even made itself known at his realization of wanting her all for himself. Was he worthy?

Yes, I am, he thought.

"What can I bring the two of you?" a tall curly-haired waiter said as he set a basket of breadsticks and a saucer of rosemary oil on their table.

"What are the specials tonight?" Remus asked, averting his eyes from Hermione, much to her temporary relief.

"I'm glad you asked, sir." The waiter smiled. "Tonight we're featuring a slow roasted herbed pork loin with pancetta, peaches, fennel & warm spinach salad. We also have grilled sea scallops with crab ravioli, wild mushroom broth, and truffle oil. And of course, for dessert, our signature lemon lime cake served with prickly pear ginger sorbet."

"That sounds wonderful," Remus said with a glance at Hermione. "I think I'll go with the pork."

"Good choice," replied the waiter. "And for you, miss?"

Hermione had been studying the menu.

"I think I'll try the soft shell crabs with braised spinach, and tomato basil vinaigrette."

"Another great selection from our kitchen," the waiter said as he scribbled on his notepad. He left, after a tap of his wand filled their empty glasses with ice water.

A few blossoms fluttered to the center of the table from the tree above. The rustling of the wind had shaken them loose and spread their scent around the square.

Remus moved to refill their wine glasses.

"Hermione." He took her hand in his. It was warm on her cold fingertips. A little too warm.

"Look through the branches and tell me what you see," he said.

Hermione frowned but moved to comply, shifting slightly to the left to look for whatever Lupin was drawing her attention to. The tree no longer obscured her view of the black surface of the lake, but that was all… unless… the moon!

There was no mistaking it was full— buttery pale and round.

Hermione pulled her hand from his in shock. She searched his eyes for some answer to the impossible. And fear danced across her features when she expected to see the grey of his eyes morph once again to the emotionless pits of the werewolf.

But he only smiled.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he said, pulling her reluctant hand back into his palm.

She shook her head wordlessly and gulped dryly.

I will wake up any minute, I know it.

"I'm cured," he whispered, leaning closer.

"W…What?" she choked out.

"Hermione, I've been cured… I'm no longer--" He looked around in caution. "What I was."

"How!" She looked him up and down, back and forth… searching for some hint that this was all still a dream. The twisting iron of the table seemed to sway… was she waking up?

"A potion," he said, trying his best to calm her. "I know. It's still somewhat unbelievable for me. Yet, Severus is a genius with these sorts of things and--"

"You mean Professor Snape's… cured this!"

"Hush!" He smiled. "Yes, he has."

"That's amazing," she whispered softly.

"Yes it is, and I've been so--" he started.

"That's so amazing, Remus! He is a genius!" She squealed, moving closer to Lupin's face so that she wouldn't draw too much attention. "I always knew the man was gifted… but this will change the world!" She pulled a breadstick from the basket and ripped a bite off with her teeth, chewing excitedly.

Remus was at a loss for words at the moment. Thinking deeply, he studied her facial expression as though seeking some hidden clue.

The waiter returned with two platters of steaming food and what he explained to be complimentary strawberry sangria.

Hermione looked at it with caution. "I really shouldn't drink this much, Remus. I have such a ridiculously low alcohol tolerance."

"I think you'll be alright, this stuff is light--"

"Oh how did he do it? Did he say? What did he call the potion?" Hermione interrupted immediately. She leaned a little forward in her seat, wine buzz creeping its way into her head.

"Whoa, Hermione." He chuckled. "Maybe this is a little much…"

"Severus must be one of the brightest wizards in the world!" She lifted a forkful of spinach to her lips, savoring its juicy taste. "Do you agree! I hope you told him!"

Remus cleared his throat after unintentionally swallowing his first bite.

"Severus?" he asked, laughing. "You mean Professor Snape, right?" He coughed, washing the food in his throat down with a swig of the fruity sangria.

She giggled. "I suppose."

"You suppose?" he asked with raised eyebrows. He dropped his fork in mock surprise. "You hate him," he added with a laugh.

"I don't," she said, completely serious as she furrowed her brow.

"No?"

Now he was surprised.

"No," she answered simply, slicing a crab in half with an overly aggressive slash of her knife.

"Why?" he blurted, before realizing how stupid it sounded.

She swirled the last of her wine in its glass. "There are so many reasons," she added with a sigh, taking a sip. "So many reasons… you wouldn't understand." She drained the glass.

"He is… most unpleasant towards you," Remus raised his head to meet her eyes. "That must bother you."

"It does," she said abruptly, forking two more bites of crab into her mouth.

"Then why--"

She looked up. "Honestly, Professor Lupin, he looked after you and cured you of a curse you never thought would ease. If I were you, I'd be kissing his feet."

Remus' eyes widened.

"I'll have you know, Hermione, that I thanked him profusely."

"And--"

"He wanted nothing of it." He poured himself another glass of wine. "Please, it's Remus, Hermione… my first name." He was a little put off. "Can we change the subject?"

"I want to know more about this potion," she said with passionate interest. "Does it have a name?"

"I don't know."

"You don't--"

"Merlin, Hermione! I'm not the Potions Master here. Ask him if you want to know!"

Hermione suddenly realized how rude she had been.

"Remus--"

"Did we come here to talk about Snape?" he asked bewildered.

"No, professor. I'm sorry."

"Remus!"

"Remus," she corrected herself with a wince.

A few more minutes passed in silence. Both had come to silent understanding; Lupin, allowing his mind to slowly adjust to the reality of the good old "too good to be true". The waiter moved to clear their plates and brought a dessert menu. Many of the surrounding parties had gone, leaving them alone.

"I'd like to pass on dessert if you don't mind," Hermione said softly to her empty plate. "I'm stuffed."

"I was thinking the same," Lupin said with a smirk.

Ten minutes later they took the path back towards the school. Apparation would have been an option but there was a tension of unfinished business. They both wondered who would break the growing awkward silence. And although they were aware of each other's presence, neither wanted to ruin the soothing sound of crickets and the safety of muteness.

Remus cleared his throat at the front entrance of the school. The quiet was finally disturbed.

"I was going to ask you to the ball," he said, looking sadly at the ground.

"And I'll still go with you. I just--"

"Hermione, I understand. Don't worry, there is no need to explain." He reached forward and took her hand in his own. This time it was not unpleasantly warm… just right.

Hermione sighed.

"I want to be your date to the ball, Remus. But I can't be much more than that." She felt a prickle of tears and her head was spinning. She was being honest, but why had it been so damn hard? "I'm sorry," she whispered looking away, trying to hide her glistening eyelids.

Remus couldn't help but fold her into his arms. Holding her close to him hurt almost as much as when he learned of his werewolf bite. But he cared too much for her to let her be upset.

Her hair smelled like cherry blossoms and sangria. It tickled his nose and caused his heart to leap out of his chest. "I only want you to be happy," he said softly in her ear, his lips brushing ever so slightly by her cheek. Painfully… painfully sweet.

"We never would have worked, Remus, you know that."

He did. But knowledge did nothing for him at present.

"Yes, I know." He smiled, swallowing a lump that was now forming in his throat. "But a man can only hope."

Hermione smiled as he wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb, sliding his hand beneath her chin, he lifted it.

"You are an amazing woman, Hermione Granger. Don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

She laughed and tried to look away but he nudged her face back to him.

"I mean that," he said. "And I know it… Because I love you."

Hermione would have convinced herself later that he didn't mean it. But now that he had said it, the sky came crashing down. She hated to see him in pain, but what was more was that she wished she would never have to feel this way. Considering who she loved now, it seemed impossible to avoid.

Please… don't let it end like this for me.

"My only wish is that your heart, whatever path it desires to take, will find its destination to be true…"

My heart doesn't know what it's getting itself into.

He blinked slowly, studying her face for his memory. "Because, Hermione. You deserve to be loved by who you truly love. Your heart deserves the world."

"And you will always have a place there, Remus." She took his hand and placed it over her chest. "As one of my greatest friends, you'll always be right there."

They fell again to embrace, this time holding as tight as possible… each for their own peace.