As Hermione's footsteps wandered through the halls of the hospital in search of a late afternoon cup of coffee, her mind wandered to Hogwarts and a certain professor's living quarters. Not for the first time, she found herself reliving her encounter with Remus last night.

If the circumstances had been slightly different, she would have accepted his advances without hesitation. She'd have given herself to him wholeheartedly, allowing things to lead to wherever they may. But she'd seen the wolf in his eyes, and as much as she trusted Remus and knew he had great self-control, that look in his eyes had frightened her a bit, like the first time she'd seen it in the past, when the younger Remus had gotten a little too aggressive and bitten her lip a bit too roughly as they'd snogged on the teacher's desk in the D.A.D.A. classroom.

After that incident, the younger Remus had told her he'd never lost control like that before, that she affected him differently, more intensely, than anybody else. So was that still true now? And if it was, what exactly did that mean? Why did she affect him differently? Was she special to him somehow? Could it be because he might have feelings for her?

Or maybe she wasn't special to him at all. Maybe, when the full moon was near, the wolf part of him reacted that way to any woman he came into contact with. But the Wolfsbane Potion was supposed to keep him from being affected that way. Why, then, had she affected him last night? Perhaps he hadn't been taking his potion properly this lunar cycle. She knew it was only effective if he took it at the same hour each day in the week leading up to the full moon. Maybe Remus had allowed too much time to elapse since his last goblet the day before and the potion's effects had worn off by the time she'd seen him last night.

Or perhaps he'd only acted that way because of the firewhiskey. Perhaps he—

Hermione stopped short when she arrived back to the floor Harry was on, confused by the commotion that greeted her in the waiting room. She blinked, unable to comprehend the flurry of activity and noise from the Weasleys, St. Mungo's staff, and fellow hospital visitors. Her confusion worsened when Ginny broke away from the crowd and ran up to her, her momentum nearly knocking them both over as she threw her arms around her and half-sobbing, half-laughing cried, "He's awake!"

"What?"

"He's awake! Harry's awake! The Healers are with him right now, but we'll be able to see him in a minute. He's awake, Hermione!"

"He's awake?" Hermione hardly dared to believe it. But everyone in the waiting room was beaming and cheering. She caught Ron's eye amongst the hugging Weasleys, and with a tearful grin, he nodded.

A feeling, bright and swelling and full of incredible joy, relief, and gratitude, slowly filled her heart. And then she squealed, "He's awake!" and joined Ginny in her happy dance, laughing and crying all at once.

"The Healers say it's a miracle," Ginny said. "But he's the miracle really, isn't he?"

Hermione agreed and then demanded, "What happened, Ginny? You asked me earlier to give you and Harry some privacy because you wanted to talk to him — is that what made him finally react? What did you say to him?"

"That's what we wanted to know," Ron said as he and his parents came over to them.

"I told him that I loved him," Ginny said, wiping the tears from her glowing face, "and that he had to wake up because I'm pregnant!"

"Y-you — you're what?" Mr. Weasley spluttered, his eyes wide. Everyone else stared at Ginny as well, their jaws dropped.

"Pregnant!" she repeated brightly. "I told him he couldn't die because he was going to be a father, and then his hand twitched in mine and he started to wake up!"

"Ginny—"

"It isn't true, Dad. I'm not really pregnant. I just told him that to see if I could get him to react, and it worked! He's awake!"

She continued her cheering and so did the others, everyone except Mr. Weasley, who looked like he needed a minute to recover from the little scare his daughter had just given him. But it was great, fantastic, because Harry was awake and alive and everything truly was going to be okay.

"Professor Lupin? Sir? Professor!"

A startled Remus looked up from his desk to see one of his students poking his head around the door to his office. Apparently, the boy had been knocking and trying to get his attention for some time.

"Sorry, Sam, I didn't hear you. Come in. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could turn in this assignment from last week. I know you don't accept late work unless we have a good excuse for not turning it in on time, but I really need the points, and I do have an excuse, sort of, but—"

Remus took the assignment from the boy. "Thank you. Anything else?"

"Uh, no," Sam replied, clearly surprised it had been this easy to turn in his late work. Then, before his teacher could change his mind, he said, "Thanks, Professor!" and hurried away.

Remus began to look over the boy's homework but quickly abandoned his efforts and added the essay to the ever-growing stack of ungraded papers on his desk. His work had been piling up on him these last few days. He'd been too preoccupied worrying about Harry's critical condition and trying to research ways to help him to get much done. Now another troubling matter kept him from making any progress.

He hung his head in his hands, trying not to think about what happened last night with Hermione but unable to concentrate on anything else. He was unnerved and appalled by the way he'd behaved. He'd forced Hermione into an embrace. He'd touched her, kissed her, bitten her — he wasn't supposed to bite under any circumstances this close to the full moon in case he lost himself to the most dangerous of his werewolf instincts. But he'd bitten her. He'd lost control.

He'd never lost control before. He'd always been able to keep in check the wolfish impulses he experienced in the days leading up to the full moon. It didn't matter how powerful the animal instinct was or if he'd taken Wolfsbane Potion or not, he'd always been able to suppress his cursed nature, or at least consciously choose whether to resist or give in to the impulses. Last night with Hermione was the only time he'd ever acted unconsciously. The wolf had taken over.

And he'd scared her. He'd scared himself. Nothing terrified him more than losing himself to the wolf. The wolf acted on pure instinct, greedily and aggressively, giving no thought to anything or anyone but its own needs and desires, and indulged in its every impulse, whether it be to satisfy its sexual appetite or its craving for human flesh.

He wasn't sure which of those impulses he'd been experiencing with Hermione last night, or if it had been both, when he'd wanted to taste her and had been overcome with the strong urge to bite her. But he had bitten her. Not hard enough to hurt her or infect her, but he'd bitten her, and just the thought of how he could have hurt her if he hadn't snapped out of the wolfish mindset and regained his sense of self when he did made him feel nauseous.

Remus looked up at the sound of an owl pecking at his window. He retrieved the letter it was carrying before sinking into his chair again. The letter was from his old friend Hugh Hawthorne. Remus had postponed the dinner he was supposed to have with Hugh and his girlfriend Rosalind a few days ago because of what happened to Harry, and he supposed Hugh just wanted to know how things were going.

But he didn't read the letter to find out. The sound of the owl tapping at his window had reminded him of a gentler, more rhythmic beat he'd felt last night: Hermione's heartbeat. How was it that it had echoed inside him last night? And how had he felt what she'd been feeling? It had been more than him just sensing her emotions, he'd felt them as if they were his, but they hadn't been his.

And last night might not have been the first time something like this had happened. Now that he thought about it, there'd been a few other similar occurrences before that, times when he'd felt things he hadn't quite understood, feelings he hadn't been sure were even his.

A few months ago, when a tearful Hermione had confided to him her boy problems, he remembered feeling deeply afflicted by her anguish. But apart from his sympathy for her, he remembered also feeling her sorrow acutely and wrestling with other emotions he hadn't quite understood. Was it because they'd been her feelings?

And a few weeks after that incident, after he'd had that snowball fight with Hermione and they'd stood together by the fire in his office, he'd felt something strange. An unfamiliar feeling he couldn't quite identify had overcome him. It was the same feeling he'd felt at the Burrow on Christmas Eve. After he and Hermione had exchanged gifts, he'd felt something warm and intense and swelling in his chest as they'd gazed at each other, and he'd known instinctively it wasn't his emotion but hers.

But how could that be? How could he have felt what she'd been feeling? He'd never heard of such an unusual phenomenon. Was it because of his lycanthropy? But even with his heightened wolf senses during this time of month, it wasn't normal for him to be able to feel someone else's emotions like he'd felt Hermione's fear and desire last night. And although he'd felt her emotions more clearly and strongly during last night's incident than he had during the others, the other incidents hadn't always occurred in the days before the full moon, so perhaps his lycanthropy had nothing to do with it. What other explanation was there, then?

Remus skipped dinner and headed to the library to try to figure that out. But research couldn't help him with what perhaps troubled and confused him most about last night: Hermione's longing and desire…for him. But she couldn't really feel that way about him, could she? She'd just been vulnerable last night because of Harry and had only wanted comfort, and he'd just happened to be there. Those other feelings he'd sensed from her — she must have been confused. She couldn't really be attracted to him… Could she?

After an hour or so of poring through books in the library and finding nothing that could explain what had happened with Hermione last night, Remus gave it up. He could hardly concentrate anyway and just thinking about the incident so much caused the wolf to stir inside him.

Feeling restless, he retired to his office and automatically reached for the goblet of Wolfsbane Potion he'd left on his desk earlier. But the goblet wasn't there. He frowned. He could have sworn he'd left it right there on the corner of his desk, but its absence suggested otherwise. He shook his head. His brain was utterly useless today.

Believing he must have left the potion in his living quarters, Remus passed through the door leading to his sitting room. The potion wasn't on the table there either. He glanced around, perplexed as to what he could have done with it, and spotted something red strewn across the floor. He eyed the unfamiliar object warily before stepping closer. It was a scarf. And on the floor beyond it was a long black coat. And beyond that, a black dress…

Remus irrationally thought of Hermione even though the scent was wrong. His blood surging, he shot past the trail of clothing leading to his bedroom, crashed through the half-open door, and then halted in his tracks just inside. Lying provocatively on his bed and wearing nothing but revealing red lingerie was Vivienne.

He blinked. "What are you doing?"

She smirked, amusement glinting in her eyes. "What does it look like? I've been waiting for you."

Remus struggled to keep his gaze from roaming hungrily over her figure. "How did you get in here?"

"I have my ways." Vivienne shifted on his bed, tossing back her blonde hair. "Aren't you going to join me, Professor Lupin?"

Remus stood there tensely, torn between his base instincts and his good sense. With difficulty, he said, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh? And why not?"

Why not? He didn't know — it was hard to think clearly right now — but he said, "You shouldn't be here."

"I abhor being told what I should and shouldn't do." Vivienne rose from his bed and started across the room. "I'm a grown woman, Remus." He could see that. He couldn't stop himself from admiring her voluptuous figure as she slinked towards him. She lightly ran her fingers up his arm to his chest. "I do what I want. And what I want" —she clutched his shirt, her eyes smoldering— "is you."

She pulled him into a searing kiss and a powerful lust flared within him. But this wasn't right. The feeling was too violent. It took an enormous amount of effort, but he broke away from their kiss.

"I'm sorry, Vivienne," he said, pulling away from her, "but this really isn't a good time."

"Au contraire," she said, closing in on him again. "It happens to be the perfect time." She returned his hands to her hips and moved her mouth to his neck. Between kisses, she whispered seductively, "I want you, Remus, and I know you want me. I know you feel this delicious attraction between us."

He was feeling it. An animal attraction, something feral. His wolfish impulses were intermingling with his human desire as he touched her warm skin, as they kissed. But they weren't supposed to be. Then he remembered.

"My potion — I haven't taken it tonight. The full moon—"

"Don't worry about that," she interrupted, caressing his chest. "It's gone now."

"What?"

"Don't worry, Remus." Her hand slowly traveled south. "Just focus on you and me..."

He struggled with the sensations her tantalizing touch elicited. Because although he was strongly tempted to just throw caution to the wind and give in tonight — it'd been a long time since he'd last been with a woman — he knew he shouldn't allow this. He always abstained in the nights before the full moon for fear of losing himself to the wolf, and Vivienne must not realize how dangerous he could be if his self-control wavered.

"Vivienne, I need my potion. I must take it every day or—"

"You don't need that poison, Remus. You're the tamest, most repressed werewolf I've ever met, which means what you really need is release. You must be desperate for it. I can help you relieve some of that tension you're feeling."

"Don't," he said, removing her hands from his belt. "We can't do this—

"Don't fight your true nature, Remus. Accept it. Embrace it. I got rid of that potion so you could be free with me tonight. It's the perfect time. Four nights until the full moon — you're at your sexual peak."

"No!" he said angrily, rejecting her touch. He stepped back from her, glaring. He couldn't believe she was one of those women. He'd encountered her type before — the kind of person who knew a werewolf's libido was revved up in the days preceding the full moon, who knew that a werewolf lost himself completely to his carnal desires, and who was curious and reckless enough to want to bed one. He should have realized it before. He'd been an idiot not to see what Vivienne was really after, but her intentions were perfectly clear now, her true interest in him revealed, and he despised it fiercely. "So that's all you want, is it? The thrill of a night with a werewolf?"

"I was looking for a bit more than that, actually."

"What, a monthly arrangement?"

"There's nothing more liberating or more satisfying than a werewolf's love. You'd know that if you'd stop trying to deny your true nature."

"That's not my true nature. The wolf isn't who I am."

"Don't fool yourself. It's all that you are. It's what controls you."

"You're wrong. I have the control."

"Want to bet?"

Catching him off guard, Vivienne shoved him hard against the wall and claimed his lips with her own. She was purposely provoking him, kissing him roughly and pressing her body against his, forcing him to wrestle with the ferocious impulses firing away inside him. And against his better nature, Remus gave in to his instincts.

They engaged in a wild embrace, his shirt and her brassiere torn off and thrown aside to the floor as they staggered across the room. Vivienne landed beneath him on his bed, her touch greedy and grasping, her fingernails harsh against his scarred skin, as though she wanted to leave a mark of her own upon him. He seized her wrists and pinned them down above her head.

"So this is you in control, is it?" she crowed.

His grip slackened. Vivienne rolled them over and straddled him.

"Feel this," she panted, clutching his fingers. She pressed his hand to her chest, telling him to feel how alive and exhilarated she was because of him. She wanted him to feel her heart racing for his inner wolf. And he did. But her pulse was faint and foreign. He couldn't feel her heart like he'd felt Hermione's last night, as if it were his own, beating life into his body and soul. He felt nothing from Vivienne and even less for her.

"I don't feel a thing," he said coldly. Then, before she could react, he lifted her off him and scrambled away from her before she could entangle him again.

"Where are you going?" she demanded, crawling out of bed after him. "Get back—"

"You need to leave."

"I'm not leaving! Come on, Remus—"

"Get out." He found his wand on the floor and aimed it at her. "I don't want to see you again."

Vivienne glared between him and the wand he held threateningly.

"Fine," she said with a snarl. "But I caught a glimpse of the real you tonight, Remus, and you can't keep holding back forever. You can't keep caging yourself. You're going to break free eventually, whether you want to or not, and I hope you'll come find me when you do."

She snatched her dress and coat from the floor and slipped them on before storming out of his living quarters.

After Remus secured his doors, he threw the scarf and lingerie Vivienne had left behind into the fire and paced the room, more restless than ever and sickened by what had just occurred, sickened by his own cursed nature. He hated that he was capable of losing himself to his animalistic desires. But he wasn't the wolf. The wolf was part of him, but not by choice, so it wasn't really who he was.

Still, Vivienne's parting words unsettled him: You're going to break free eventually, whether you want to or not…

Hermione tried not to think about it. She tried to focus on the joy of seeing her best friend alive and talking after days of him being unconscious and on the brink of death. But the overwhelming happiness she'd felt before was now tainted.

She had thought of Remus earlier tonight and how happy and relieved he'd be once he received word that Harry was okay. She'd contemplated going to Hogwarts and telling him the extraordinary news herself, but she'd decided that might not be the best idea considering what had happened between them last night. So instead she'd taken out the Marauder's Map to watch Remus's dot as she sometimes did, to feel a bit closer to him in these wonderful moments. Just as she'd expected, he had been in his living quarters. But he hadn't been alone. There'd been two dots in his bedroom, one his, the other Vivienne's.

Hermione wished she hadn't seen.

A/N: As I post this chapter and look at how I've planned this story, I realize I'm making Hermione suffer a lot. I guess I really am cruel :(

Thanks for reading! And thank you so much for your faves, follows, and reviews! It's always so helpful and encouraging and a lot of fun to get your thoughts on the chapter.

I hope you have a wonderful New Year!