Happy Tuesday my darlings!

I must admit this chapter broke me a little, so I'm sorry if it breaks you too. (There is suggested smut, so be warned of that.)

I honestly don't have anything else to say, I'm going to curl up under some blankets and try to respond to as many of your reviews as I can in the next couple of hours.

My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com (I'll also be answering asks answering questions about FTT all night if any of you want to pop by.)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.

For all of you that stayed and trusted in me, and for being so darn lovely.

Hermione carefully regarded the Werewolf pacing back and forth—a heavy fog of panic encompassing him.

"How do you know she's my mate?" Remus asked for the umpteenth time.

When Hermione arrived home she'd stood outside of Potter Manor, staring up at her home as the summer breeze stroked her curls in an attempt to soothe her. After inhaling deeply she'd headed straight for Remus's room where she found Draco sitting—feet now bare—cross-legged on Remus's bed as their fellow Marauder tried to wrap his head around what had just transpired.

"Where's my lemon crackle?" was the first thing out of Draco's mouth. Hermione shrugged, and Draco groaned loudly.

"Fine, I'll go back and get it myself…you get the pleasure of trying to calm this one down, he won't stop pacing."

Draco hopped off of Remus's bed, heading for the door—he paused beside her, one hand hovering over her hip as he lowered his mouth to the shell of her ear and asked, "are you okay?"

"No, but I will be," Hermione murmured, patting Draco's arm before strolling over to the middle of the room.

Silently Draco continued on his way, lingering in the doorway for a moment longer before he shut the door behind him with a soft click.

"Remus?"

Nothing.

"Remus?"

The boy's head snapped to her and he closed the distance between them in no time flat, his hands grasped her face and in a small, scared voice he asked, "what just happened, Hermione? Why—Why was I so drawn to that girl?"

His eyes were glistening with fear, and Hermione drew in a deep breath, pressing her lips together.

"Hermione?"

"I think…I think your—visceral reaction to her is because she's your mate, Remus," Hermione said faintly, licking her lips as her mouth went bone dry.

Remus let go of her, shaking his head as he took several steps back.

"How do you know?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Hermione replied softly.

That was when the pacing began, disbelief clinging to the very fibre of his being.

Hermione kicked off her shoes and settled herself on his bed in the spot that Draco had previously occupied—it was still warm and somehow that in itself was comforting.

Hermione allowed it to go on for longer than she should have, but to be fair, she was still reeling, climbing down off of her own mountain of shock.

She was currently buried in her own thoughts: thoughts that were whirring madly in her head, a small part of her greedily thinking that she can keep him.

Mates be damned and all that other rot.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, spots dancing across the back or her eyelids and she dug her fingers into his sheets.

Then, a bigger, more logical part made itself known, crushing her selfish, greedy thoughts.

Images, memories flashed through her mind: how content and fulfilled Remus looked with Tonks, the loving adoration in his eyes for his Metamorphmagus, Teddy and his ever changing hair and happy gurgles.

Hermione sniffed harshly. She can't be the reason that doesn't happen. She simply can't.

I can't keep him, Hermione thought sadly, no matter how much she loves him, and no matter how much she wants to—because he was never truly hers to begin with.

Tears silently stream down her face as she exhaled deeply, her breath shuddering out of her, and it took everything she had not to blubber pathetically.

Hermione pried her eyes open and stiffened when Remus's eyes were the first thing to greet her. She hadn't even realised that he'd stopped pacing, much less gotten so close.

Hermione greedily gulped in air, hands relinquishing their hold on his sheets to instead grasp her boyfriend's face.

"Hermione?"

"I love you, Remus."

"I love you too," Remus said with a frown, hands pressing into the mattress on either side of her.

Hermione let out a haggard breath, imagining all the times in the future that Remus had avoided Tonks—convinced that he was a broken, ruined man.

It tore Hermione's heart to shreds when she gazed up at the beautiful boy in front of her—brimming with hope that would be beaten and bashed by the upcoming war and years to follow.

It burned a painful, scorching heat in her chest: a spear pierced her body, running her straight through when she finally made up her mind, when she settled on what she had to do.

"We need to break up."

"What—"

"Please let me finish or I won't be able to go through with this," Hermione begged, her thumbs stroking his cheeks tenderly.

"I love you, Remus...but you belong to her, and you always will."

"Hermione—"

"A big part of me is always going to love you…but I can't have you. It's selfish and greedy to steal away something that isn't mine."

"Hermione—" Remus tried again, a stubborn frown marring his brow, and he opened his mouth as if to protest, but Hermione pressed on.

"You need to let her in when the time is right. Remus, promise me you will. You need to. Trust me, even if you run away from her, she'll figure it out. She's your mate." Hermione licked her lips once she concluded her declaration.

Remus hesitated for a long moment before he nodded his head slowly.

"Not exactly what I was looking for, but it'll do for now," Hermione said, trying to smile but it contorted into a pained grimace.

Remus saw the look, and swallowed audibly before asking quietly, "If I love you and you love me…then why do we need to break up?"

One of his hands moved to tug on one of her curls, and he pressed his forehead against hers.

Hermione smiled sadly, "because if I keep you any longer then I don't think I'll be able to let you go. You don't belong to me my sweet, sweet Moon. She may only be three, but she is your mate."

"Now that's just brilliant, she's three? She's thirteen years younger than me, Hermione," Remus groaned, stepping out of her grip, and falling onto the bed beside her.

"She's still your mate," Hermione responded.

Remus stared at the ceiling, one hand sliding onto Hermione's thigh as he said, "she smells like blueberries and chocolate."

His head fell to the side and he sighed heavily as he watched her, "so we're breaking up."

The words left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth, "yes, we're breaking up."

Hermione rearranged her position on the bed so that she was facing him, and Remus traced a pattern on her bare thigh that sent tingles slithering up her body.

Neither of them said anything for several pregnant moments, and before she realised what she was doing Hermione was kissing Remus: she slowly pulled away, and she saw a thick layer of confusion settle over his features.

"I thought we agreed to break up," Remus asked warily, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand.

"I think I'm going to be a little selfish after all, you're mine for one more night—if you'll have me that is," Hermione whispered against his lips, like it was a salacious secret for just them to share.

"Always," Remus whispered back, his hand sliding around to rest against her nape and he firmly pulled her down until their lips met once more.

Slowly, ever so slowly they divested each other of their clothes.

Hermione stared into Remus's eyes and clung to him, fingers digging into his skin, as she pressed languid, lazy kisses to his lips.

She didn't know who started crying first, but soon their kisses tasted of salt, and both their cheeks were wet.

Hermione clung to him with everything she had, never breaking eye contact, their bond thrumming lowly.

She breathed his name when they toppled into the abyss together, fingers gripping him so firmly that he was likely to have bruises bloom across his skin over the next couple days.

Afterwards they lay side by side, simply staring at each other: chests heaving, limbs entangled. Hermione wanted to drink it all in, to remember the last precious moments she would have with Remus as his significant other.

They stayed there as the day tired into an cloudless, inky sky littered with bright stars, they stayed there until Hermione instinctively reached out to brush some of his hair back—her hand stilling just before it reached him.

It was only then that she averted her eyes, withdrawing her hand and cradling it against her chest.

"I better go," Hermione murmured, sitting up and searching for her clothes: her vision was blurry and unfocused, so when her fingers closed around Remus's jumper she drew it to her and pulled it over her head.

Remus was quietly following her every movement, the sheets haphazardly thrown across his bare body, a tightness to his jaw—sorrow spilled from his hazel eyes.

Hermione tugged on her knickers and slipped out of the bed, hastily gathering the rest of her clothes to her chest and padding her way towards the door—thankfully Remus's jumper was so big on her that it covered everything.

Remus's husky voice stopped her in her tracks as she reached the door—her hand already enclosed around the lukewarm door handle, "you're wrong, Hermione. I'll always belong to you."

Hermione clenched her eyes shut, trying to hold back the hot tears that were threatening to fall once more—but she was remarkably unsuccessful—she sniffled, hard, and then turned around with a watery smile. "I know. Just like how I'll always belong to you."

She doesn't allow him to say anything else, twisting the doorknob and fleeing before she wavered in her resolve, before she told him that she'd changed her mind.

Hermione ran down the corridor, practically tumbling into her room and slamming her door harder than she'd intended: she dropped her clothes in a messy pile beside the door—which she fell against and slid down, she inhaled shakily before she waved her hand, flinging silencing and locking charms securely into place.

The tears came then—hard and fast—hurtling down her face as she began to bawl, rubbing fiercely at the teardrops careening out of her eyes, sniffling hard and she fought to breathe; it certainly didn't help that her room was pitch black, permitting the darkness to claim her.

Then, clear as day came a bubbly laugh, and the image of her first Remus squished together with Tonks on a loveseat, Teddy bouncing up and down on his knee as Tonks changed her facial features to absurd, outlandish things to draw more of that beautiful, pure laughter out of her son.

Sharp claws were shredding her heart into tiny pieces, but she was smiling—albeit gloomily—she had done the right thing, it was time to let her sweet, sweet Moon go.