Hermione collapsed onto the coat Remus lay for her on the grass by the lake, simultaneously exhilarated and exhausted by the torrent of emotions overwhelming her. She'd had no idea, had not dared even hope when they entered the Room of Requirement earlier this evening that any of this would happen, that Remus would kiss her and be by her side like he was now. Brimming with joy and giddiness and contentment, she beamed at the stars shining above them. The stars winked back.
Remus's fingers brushed hers. Feeling his stare, Hermione tore her gaze away from the gorgeous night sky to meet his and found he looked even more handsome than usual here bathed in the moonlight. He raised her hand to his lips, a gentle kiss.
"Thank you, Hermione," he said softly. "For the moon."
She thought tears might spring to her eyes with the emotion that surged through her at that moment, because before tonight she'd feared Remus would never again look at her the way he was now, feared he'd never again kiss her the way he did next.
But his lips met hers, soft and sweet and playful at first. Then he was kissing her in a way that made her heart race, her skin flush, her body feel weak and tingly and ache for more. So when he abruptly pulled away from her and the shock of the crisp night air replaced his heat, Hermione nearly whimpered at the loss.
She sat up, shooting him a questioning look.
"We should probably get going. It's late," he said a bit hoarsely.
"I don't want to go." It had been too long since they'd last been together and too long that she'd had to keep her distance. She didn't want to part from him so soon tonight. Remus only stared at her, uncertain, so she shifted closer. "I want to stay," she told him softly, and touched her lips to his.
She thought he might refuse and insist they should leave. But when she pulled away slightly from the light kiss she gave him, he leaned in again, his lips capturing hers once more, and she was soaring through the stars. . . .
"Hermione, I'm super happy for you, truly," Ginny said, yanking Hermione out of the glorious memories she'd slipped into during Charms on Friday. "It's really wonderful about you and Remus and all — I mean, it took you two long enough — but you've got to start paying attention."
Hermione's gaze swept over her friend and the small blue birds circling them, twittering and fluttering cheerfully and animatedly like in Disney Princess movies.
Ginny grinned at her look of surprise. "I never thought I'd have to say that to you, yet here you are, conjuring birds and pretty flowers, and casting a bunch of funny charms that have nothing to do with our assignment."
Ginny was right. She really did need to start paying attention. She needed to focus. N.E.W.T.s, the most important exams of her life, were just weeks away and she'd hardly studied the last couple days. Not that she hadn't tried, but she couldn't concentrate with Remus constantly on her mind, the ghost of his kisses tingling on her lips and the feel of his hand skimming down her waist —
Hermione swiftly thrust the memories into a special compartment in her brain she locked with several keys and a multitude of spells before she could lose herself in them again. She needed to get it together or her N.E.W.T.s scores would suffer the consequences and forever disappoint her.
Ginny seemed to be thinking along the same lines. She began grumbling about all the studying they had to do over the Easter holidays and how she didn't even know where to start. So in the Head Girl's dormitory after classes that day, Hermione showed her the study schedule she'd made and offered to help her create her own.
"What's happening here?" Ginny asked, pointing out the blank spaces in Hermione's schedule.
"Oh, well, I'm not sure when I'm meeting Remus, so I left some days more open and flexible."
"I see you left next Friday and Saturday evenings totally free. . . . Planning on rendezvousing in the Room of Requirement again? You should ask to borrow Harry's Invisibility Cloak if you're going to be sneaking around."
"There won't be any sneaking around. I won't be at Hogwarts, remember?"
Hermione would be one of the few fifth and seventh year students who wouldn't be staying at the castle over the holidays to study for their exams. She had originally planned to but decided it would be better to go home. Remus wanted to meet her away from the school and it would be easier to do that this way.
Ginny smirked. "So you'll just be sneaking away from your parents, then."
Hermione hadn't really thought about that. She wouldn't necessarily have to sneak out of her house. She just wouldn't tell her parents where she was going or who she would be seeing. Because if they knew . . . how would they react when they found out about her and Remus?
She pushed that thought aside for now. That talk with her parents would come later.
"Sounds much more fun than studying," Ginny went on. "You know, I've heard some things about werewolves . . ." There was an impish gleam in her eyes and Hermione knew exactly where her friend was going with this.
"Remus and I are going to talk. We have to discuss some things before — before anything else happens."
"Right. The way you talked in the Room of Requirement the other night."
A sheepish smile curled Hermione's lips. Between deeply stirring kisses she and Remus hadn't done much talking that night. At the time she hadn't minded in the least. Now part of her wished they had.
While she laughed and rolled her eyes at Ginny's continued teasing, she tried to ignore the nagging worry in the back of her mind. She'd sensed Remus's unease in class yesterday and wanted to talk, but they hadn't gotten the chance because Tonks had shown up.
Hermione supposed, though, that it was expected for him to feel a bit uncomfortable in class with her and then in front of McGonagall later. And it was expected that he, after what happened the last time they'd been alone together, would be hesitant to meet her again while she was still his student. She shouldn't overanalyze this, shouldn't worry. She should be happy and drop her doubts after the way he'd kissed her in the Room of Requirement because now he couldn't pretend he didn't have feelings for her anymore.
And because of that she was more willing than ever to fight for them to be together. She just hoped he was too.
Fortunately Ginny's teasing that afternoon helped ease her worries, and by the time they were heading to the last Defense Club meeting before the holidays Hermione was grinning like a fool in anticipation of seeing Remus. She already missed him and couldn't wait to be alone with him again.
She tried to tone down the smile plastered on her face when she entered the Room of Requirement and act normal, but she found she couldn't quite look directly at Remus for fear she would somehow give them away. Luckily for her, the two scarcely crossed paths during the busy meeting in which he worked with the seventh years while she helped the fifth years.
Her group of students was reviewing Stunning Spells that evening, so large silk cushions were strewn about the room to soften their landing when they got knocked out by their partners' spells. As she sidestepped one of the cushions she noted it looked rather inviting, much more comfortable to roll around on than the itchy grass the other night —
Hermione halted her thoughts in their tracks, reined in her imagination, and spent the rest of the meeting doing her best not to get caught up again in the wonderful memories this room held. She was only semi-successful. The meeting seemed to last an eternity.
Finally, though, the meeting came to an end, and she grinned when Ginny gave her a wink as she left the Room of Requirement with the other students. Only a small group of Ravenclaws dawdled behind. Losing her patience quickly and forgetting tact, Hermione practically shoved them out of the room so that she and Remus could be alone at last.
She turned toward Remus as she was closing the door behind the last of the Ravenclaws and met his eyes properly for the first time that evening. Warmth flooded her face, her body, at the unexpected intensity of his gaze, his green-gray eyes holding her in place even as a deep ache stirred within her, urging her to immediately erase the distance between them. When the door clicked shut behind her, the soft sound had the effect of a gun blast signaling the start of a race, and before she knew it Remus had her pinned against the door and was kissing her senseless.
Just as suddenly, however, he pulled away again.
She really wished he'd stop doing that.
"I'm sorry. The full moon . . ." he said, eyes dark and shadowed and edged with panic as he backed away from her.
As she regained her balance and composure after the rush of his kisses, she noted his face was a little paler than normal. The full moon was indeed only days away.
"Oh. I forgot," she said in disappointment, although she was unsure whether he was apologizing for the way he'd kissed her or because he had to stop. She was only sorry that he'd stopped. Did they really need to keep their distance when the full moon approached? Because she didn't really mind the way the wolf affected him.
It was obvious, however, that it made Remus uncomfortable.
He turned away from her, waving his wand to straighten out the room, and Hermione wondered if he was cleaning up to simply distract himself or to purposely get rid of the tempting cushions she'd been eyeing earlier. She sighed inwardly at their disappearance.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," Remus said when he faced her again, only the faintest shadow of the wolf left in his gaze. "I forgot I was supposed to meet Tonks."
"How is she?"
"Very busy these days, but happy. Counting down the days till her wedding." He paused a moment, looking like he was mentally debating something, before he continued hesitantly. "We — we saw George in Hogsmeade. Tonks seems to think the two of you are involved."
"We're not. I told you we're only friends," Hermione said, surprised he could still think there was something more between her and George after recent events.
Remus nodded. "I know. I just . . . I wasn't sure."
He still didn't look very certain, which she supposed was understandable considering what he'd seen.
"I know you saw George and me kissing at the dance and at the Burrow during the Christmas holidays, but it wasn't what it looked like, Remus. We only kissed on Christmas Eve because we got stuck beneath the mistletoe — one of his and Fred's joke products. It was enchanted to keep us trapped there until we did. And we went to the dance only as friends. When we were in that classroom — I didn't know he was going to do that. He saw you coming on the map and started kissing me the second before you walked through the door."
She was grateful to see Remus's relief this time as he nodded his understanding, and she almost smiled at the hint of jealousy she glimpsed next when he said, "He seems to have an interest in you beyond that of pure friendship. He fancies you." The grumpy look that crossed his face was rather cute.
"He might have, but it was never anything serious," she assured him. "I think he was mostly just trying to help me when he kissed me that night." That's what George had told her anyway. Only a small part of his motivation had been because he was "a shameless opportunist taking advantage of the situation."
"Help you?" Confusion flickered across Remus's face. "How would that help you?"
Hermione realized too little too late that she maybe shouldn't have said that. "He — he was trying to help me with you," she explained tentatively. "Trying to help me figure out if you — if you might have any feelings for me."
He frowned slightly. "He was testing me, to see if I'd get jealous?"
It sounded rather awful and juvenile to Hermione now, to purposely try to make someone jealous, to play that sort of game. With a twinge of guilt she nodded, watching Remus closely to see if he was upset with her, but his expression was difficult to read.
Then he gave a small laugh, though there was little humor lighting his eyes. "He did say he was trying to rile me up."
Hermione wondered what more George had said to him after she'd left them alone in that classroom that had Remus punching him in response.
"I think he was trying to get a rise out of both of us, hoping it would help us realize our feelings for each other. At the time I thought you didn't — I thought you were with Vivienne."
"And I believed you were with George. That night . . . he did say he thought it might help. I just didn't understand what he meant."
"I don't know what else he said to you, and he might have taken things too far, but I do think he had good intentions. After he found out how I felt about you, he backed off and said he wanted to help me with you."
"He probably expected you'd soon get over this schoolgirl crush."
Hermione blinked. "S-schoolgirl crush?" she repeated, taken aback by his words. He seemed to have immediately regretted uttering them. "Is — is that all you think this is?"
"I didn't mean —" he began, but then he broke off, suddenly tense as his eyes darted to the door. A moment later there was a sharp knock and Professor Avila came through it.
Hermione, though, hardly spared her a glance, for she was staring at Remus incredulously.
"I'm glad you're still here," Professor Avila said to him. "Could I have a word?"
"Certainly." He returned his gaze to Hermione, his expression now inscrutable. "If that's all you needed, Miss Granger. . . ."
Miss Granger? Since when did he call her that?
"Yes, thank you for your help, Professor," she mumbled. But she didn't move. She just stood there, staring at him, struggling to hold in the indignation swelling inside her.
"Run along now, Miss Granger," Professor Avila shooed. "Students should be in their dormitories at this hour, not pestering their professors."
Hermione barely managed to restrain her glare for her Transfiguration teacher before doing as she was told and departing from the room.
Schoolgirl crush?
Schoolgirl crush?
Was that really what Remus thought, that she was just a little schoolgirl with a silly little crush?
Hermione stomped down the corridor in furious disbelief as Vivienne's words from their confrontation at Honeydukes last weekend came rushing back to her: He wouldn't be interested in a little schoolgirl like you. . . . You're just a little girl and what Remus wants is a woman.
Did he really think that way of her? How could he dismiss her and her feelings for him like that after all this time and after everything that had happened between them? Did he truly believe what she felt for him was simply a crush? Or was he just afraid that was all it was?
In her dormitory Hermione paced about her bedroom, fuming with her frustration with Remus and with Professor Avila for interrupting them. She couldn't leave their conversation hanging like this. She needed to talk this out with him right away.
Perhaps she did have reason to worry after all. Knowing Remus, he'd probably been overthinking everything the last couple of days and dwelling on every reason why he shouldn't have kissed her in the Room of Requirement the other night, starting with the fact that she was a schoolgirl.
She needed to talk to him as soon as possible. She needed to see him tonight. She might not get a chance tomorrow morning before she had to board the Hogwarts Express. So she kept watch on the Marauder's Map, waiting until Remus was in his quarters alone once again before marching over to his office and letting herself in.
She banged on the wall concealing the entrance to his private quarters, and when Remus opened the door it seemed every feeling of exasperation she'd experienced because of him and every frustration she'd ever held in exploded to the surface.
"You are a fool!"
"Hermione —"
"And a coward!"
"You can't come in here—"
"And an arse!" she cried, ignoring his protest and forcing him to back up into his sitting room. "I am not some silly, infatuated schoolgirl! I am a mature and intelligent adult witch —"
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have said that."
"Do you believe it?"
"I — No. No. I know you're intelligent and mature. But," he added warily, "you — you are still very young." She opened her mouth to give him a heated retort, but he continued before she could speak. "I think we have a lot to talk about, Hermione, but . . . not here. Please, let's wait until —"
"I don't want to wait!" she cut in, not caring to hear what he wanted to wait for, because hadn't they already waited long enough? "I thought we'd already established that age shouldn't matter! You know what they say: it's just a number!"
"It's not about the number."
"Then what is it about?"
"You're . . . well . . . inexperienced."
Hermione drew back from him, mortified, as Vivienne's taunting words echoed in her mind: No doubt you've never been with a werewolf before. You've probably never even been with a man. Your inexperience is painfully obvious. . . .
They'd only kissed that night in the Room of Requirement — had Remus held back from anything more because he thought her inadequate? Unlike in the past there was a considerable gap not only in their ages but in their experience now. Was he disappointed by her obvious lack of it?
"I — I didn't think that would matter to you," she said.
"Of course it matters. It matters a great deal."
"Why should it?" she demanded, her temper rising again with her embarrassment. "Just because I'm — Just because I've never . . . been intimate with anyone —"
Remus tensed. "That — that's not what I meant," he said, lips barely moving as his face flushed slightly.
Hermione, meanwhile, blushed brilliantly. Remus averted his gaze and turned away from her, covering his mouth with his hand as he began to pace and leaving Hermione feeling as though she'd just made things worse.
After a long, awkward pause, she asked him, "What did you mean, then?"
He took several more strides before responding.
"I meant," he said, stopping his pacing to face her again, "that you and I are at completely different points in our lives. You're just beginning, Hermione. You're going to graduate soon and leave Hogwarts, and the life you've known thus far is going to change. You'll be moving on to bigger and better things and having new experiences, meeting new people. One of these people will be a smart and handsome young man, and whatever you feel for me now —"
"That won't happen," she interjected, dread knotting her stomach. Her fears were founded. He had been dwelling on the reasons why they shouldn't be together. He was going to try to push her away.
"It's bound to happen, Hermione. And I — I don't want to hold you back in any way."
"You wouldn't. I've told you this isn't just some schoolgirl crush! I've had feelings for you for a long time, Remus, but it wasn't until Harry's birthday last summer that I realized it. You were leaving and I was upset because I wasn't sure when I'd see you again. And with graduation coming up, I — I'm starting to feel that same way now. Everyone keeps talking about their plans for the summer and for their future: where they want to go, what they want to do. . . . When I think of my future . . . I want you, Remus."
Remus had never felt so torn, so conflicted. Hermione wanted a future with him. . . .
He wanted so desperately to be able to give her that future, to give in to what his heart desired more than anything else . . . but wouldn't that be selfish of him?
He didn't know what to do, what to say. He wasn't prepared for this conversation. But Hermione wanted to talk and he had to be honest. So, heart heavy with regret, he told her, "We couldn't have a future, Hermione."
"Why not?"
"You know what I am. Being with me — it would only cause you problems, and it — it wouldn't be fair to you. I couldn't have a future with you or anybody else. I've known that since I was very young. I knew I couldn't lead a normal life, couldn't marry and have children and risk passing on my condition."
She shook her head. "I've told you before I don't agree with your view on this. I think werewolves have a right to pursue their happiness just like everybody else. And you can marry. There's no law against it."
"But there's a stigma attached to me and my name, a stigma that would pass to you if we were to get involved. I'd tarnish your reputation. It would affect you both socially and professionally."
"I don't care about my reputation or what anyone else thinks!"
"You say that now but you don't know what it would be like. You've never experienced such a strong, widespread prejudice. It — it takes a toll on you."
"Being Muggle-born, I do have an idea of what prejudice and discrimination are like," she shot back.
"It isn't the same. Muggle-borns are only looked down upon by bigots and pureblood zealots. Werewolves are creatures from which nearly everyone recoils. Here at Hogwarts, where I've been under Dumbledore and McGonagall's protection, you don't see that so much, at least not openly. But outside the school gates is a different story. People can barely talk to me when they learn what I am. Society fears and shuns my kind and distrusts anyone associated with us."
"Society is changing. People's views are changing in regard to werewolves, and you're the one who's helping make that happen!"
"Society isn't changing as much as you'd like to believe. On the whole, things are very much the same as they always have been, and any change in the future would be hard-won and gradual because the fear that fuels the stigma surrounding my kind is deeply ingrained.
"But the real problem, Hermione," he said, cutting to the heart of his fears, "the real problem is me. What I am won't ever change, and I . . . I don't think you realize how strongly you affect me, how great the danger I pose to you could be." He couldn't quite hold her gaze as he reluctantly explained, "When I'm with you, my impulses go haywire and I feel all mixed up, and I . . . I don't know what I'm capable of. I could never live with myself if I — if I ever lost control like Rosalind . . ."
He couldn't tell if the flicker of emotion that crossed Hermione's face was horror or something else, but he felt nauseous remembering the way Hugh had looked after his girlfriend had attacked him. And the thought that it could be Hermione. . . .
"That — that wouldn't happen, Remus. You're not like Rosalind. You're cautious and self-controlled. And you take Wolfsbane Potion — she doesn't."
"I've told you before, the potion doesn't help me when it comes to you. As for my self-control . . . it isn't as strong as I once believed. At least not when it comes to you. Everything is different with you. I'd never lost control before, but with you . . . I constantly feel like I'm on the edge of losing myself."
Like he'd felt earlier in the Room of Requirement, intoxicated by her scent and fixated on those delectable lips of hers, his hunger for her all-consuming; like he felt now, the wolfish impulses thrumming through him more difficult than usual to suppress with their emotions running high and everything within him at odds with each other.
He wished they could have had this talk after the full moon when her scent wasn't befuddling him, when it wasn't so difficult to keep his composure, though what happened with Hugh and Rosalind was a reminder that loss of control could be possible under any lunar phase if the wolf was sufficiently agitated and self-control gave way to instinct.
"And I have lost myself with you," he reminded her. "I — I've bitten you. I've realized how easily I could hurt you and infect you, and . . . I'm afraid . . ."
Terrified out of his mind was more accurate, terrified to get too close, to trigger his wolfish impulses in any way. How could a relationship between them work if he felt like this, constantly fearing? How could he be with her if he could hardly even be around her, couldn't touch her whenever the full moon approached without losing control?
"You didn't hurt me when you lost control. You wouldn't hurt me, Remus. I know you wouldn't."
"You can't possibly know that, Hermione. And neither could I." But just the possibility that it could be Hermione in St. Mungo's looking as mangled and bloody as Hugh had been — or worse. . . . He shook his head, his very bones cold with terror and guilt at the thought. "I . . . I couldn't take that risk. Not with you."
She bit her lip, tears shining in her eyes, and he didn't know if it was his feeling or hers but devastation crushed through him as he realized what his words meant. Everything within him seemed to crumble. This wasn't what he wanted, what he had planned to say coming into this conversation. But how could this have ended any other way? His hope that things could turn out differently between them had been delusional.
"So that's it?" Hermione said, voice trembling slightly but her gaze steady. "We can't be together?" She shook her head. "I should have known this would happen. After all, you d-destroyed the rose."
The edge in her voice, the fierceness of her glare — more hurt than anger or reproach — cut through him like a knife. She turned away, tears slipping down her face as she hugged herself, and he reached out, wanting to hold her, comfort her, but he couldn't touch her, and he had no right to anyway since this was all his fault. His hand fell back to his side. He'd never felt so awful. He hated that he made her cry. How many tears had she shed because him? Too many, and didn't that just prove she was better off without him?
"Hermione," he said quietly. "I — I'm sorry, but I think —"
"No," she said sharply, whipping back around, impatiently wiping away her tears. "I don't want to know what you think. I don't want to hear it!" she cried, making him flinch. "I don't want you to keep giving me all these reasons why you think we can't be together, I want you to tell me how you feel!"
"Hermione —"
"I want you to tell me how you felt when you kissed me in the Room of Requirement the other night! I want you to tell me how you felt when you gave me your mother's necklace! I want you to —"
"Please, Hermione," he said, wary of her touch and retreating as she stormed closer. "This — this is difficult enough —"
"You're the one who's making this difficult!"
"I'm only trying to do what's best for you —"
"What's best for me is being with you! Don't you understand? I love you, Remus!"
Before his mind could register what she'd just said, before his muscles could react, Hermione was kissing him, hard, fiercely, and he was back in the Room of Requirement with her under the stars; back in her dormitory, wolf desperate to claim what was his; back in the past, her touch like bluebell flames dancing across his bare skin. His careful restraint instantly melted away under the blaze she ignited in him, and he was no longer thinking but returning her kiss, matching her intensity, the hands that had been ready to prevent her touch moments before now pulling her into a tighter embrace.
He was losing himself in a burning bliss without even a whimper of a fight, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of intense emotions: her frustration and desperation and passion firing away with his violent fears and his desire, and something warm and swelling swirling throughout, fueling it all — their love.
It was too much.
His control snapped. He lost himself completely.
The wolf took over and everything became chaos, a blur. The whirlwind inside him manifested itself physically and he was in a frenzy, Hermione caught in the eye of his storm.
The jangling clatter of glass breaking rang through the room, but it didn't penetrate his lust-hazed consciousness. His every sharpened sense was attuned to her. He was drowning in her delicious scent, drunk with her breathtaking kisses, electrified by the feel of her soft skin beneath his touch, and delirious with the tickle of her sweet moan on his lips as they crashed into the bookshelf.
Books thudded to the floor around them, but he failed to notice with her legs around his waist and her fingers threading through his hair. Nothing existed in the world but her. Nothing mattered but pleasure and sensation and this fervor, this need, overtaking him, threatening to burn him alive if it were not satiated.
He burst through his bedroom door, her heartbeat thundering in his chest. She landed on the mattress with a soft bounce and a sharp intake of breath, and for a moment he paused there at the foot of his bed, taken by the seductive image of the girl before him — her parted lips, her eyes dark with desire, her wild hair and flushed skin and heaving breasts — before the alluring scent of her arousal snapped him back into action. Wolf impatient for release, he reclaimed her lips, fingers slipping beneath her skirt and grasping at her tights —
But then she was suddenly gone, out of his reach.
Suddenly he was soaring, hurtling backward through the air, slamming against the wall.
The hard knock brought him back.
The rough impact cleared the lustful haze clouding his mind, chilled the fervor heating his blood, and Remus found himself crumpled on the floor, stupefied.
He rubbed the back of his aching head and blinked rapidly at the sight of Hermione scrambling out of his bed. Her eyes were wide and her face flaming as she whirled around, fingers hastily working to button up her shirt. He turned his gaze to where she'd been looking. Standing in the doorway, every line of her face etched with shock and fury and her wand still pointed at him, was Professor McGonagall.
A/N: A cliffhanger for you because I know how much you love them!
Thanks so much for reading and for your patience when these chapters take me forever to get out. Thank you also to everyone who has left reviews the last several chapters. It's always wonderful to hear from you and get your thoughts on the story, but it's even more so now that we're getting close to the end.