McGonagall was beyond scandalized, beyond angry. The shock that had momentarily frozen her quickly gave way to her fury and she was absolutely livid.

Remus swallowed, face blanching. All the blood seemed to drain from him with the wave of guilt that surged through him, making him feel sick as if her were at sea, and dread dropped into his stomach like a boulder sinking him to the bottom of the ocean. He wanted to sink right through the floor, escape, but McGonagall's glare pinned him in place where he sat slumped against his bedroom wall.

"You . . . I cannot believe. . . . This — this is . . ." McGonagall spluttered, unable to find words sufficient enough to express her outrage.

"P-professor, I —" came Hermione's small, high voice. Her face was a brilliant pink as she faced McGonagall, clutching her unsuccessfully buttoned shirt closed with both hands.

Remus averted his gaze, and McGonagall snapped, "Silence, Miss Granger!"

The headmistress's anger did not diminish in the least as she turned her attention to the student he knew to be her favorite. If anything it seemed to flare. She fixed Hermione with a burning glare before returning her blistering gaze to him.

"To my office. Now," she ordered through gritted teeth, the hand she pointed toward the door shaking with her rage.

Remus numbly got to his feet, unable to speak. What could he say? He felt as small as he always felt when McGonagall's ire was directed at him — how many times had he and his friends gotten into trouble and sent to her office in his youth? Only this was much different, much worse than ever before because he was not a child or adolescent now but an adult, and what he'd just done was far more serious than pulling a prank or getting caught venturing into a restricted area of the school.

He forced himself to move and McGonagall stiffly stepped aside as he reached her and his bedroom door — only the door wasn't in the frame where it was supposed to be. It was completely off its hinges, lying broken on the floor as if it had been kicked open. Merlin's beard — had he done that in his frenzied state? He couldn't remember clearly — everything was a blur — but the look McGonagall shot him told him it certainly hadn't been her who'd done it.

His eyes darted to Hermione, quickly examining her for any sign of injury. Thankfully she appeared unharmed, though he could feel her panic as strongly as he felt his own.

"P-professor —" she started again, turning back to McGonagall, but she was immediately silenced by another scorching look from the headmistress, her nostrils flaring at the brief glance he and Hermione had shared.

McGonagall again ordered him to her office and Remus obeyed at once, hurrying out of his bedroom only to have his stomach lurch again as he met more evidence of his loss of control scattered in the next room: the side table toppled over, the shelves in the bookcase broken, splayed books and shards of glass from a shattered vase on the floor, and small buttons sprinkled all about.

No wonder Hermione had been having trouble fastening her shirt.

He realized his own shirt was also partially unbuttoned and worked on them with fumbling fingers as he hastily made his way out of his quarters.

His head was spinning and pounding in pain as he moved through the darkened halls of the castle, his world spiraling and crashing down around him. He'd lost control again. The wolf had taken over. Now a mortified Hermione was standing before the headmistress, clinging desperately to her modesty as she struggled with the shirt he'd ripped open, and he was going to be fired. He was never going to teach again. He was probably never going to have a proper job again. . . .

In McGonagall's office Remus avoided the curious eyes of the ex-headmasters still awake in their portraits, especially those blue ones directly across from him, belonging to the headmaster who had changed the course of his life for the better twice when he needed it most, and who, along with McGonagall, was one of only two headmasters perhaps in the history of Hogwarts who would have allowed a creature like him into their school.

Only Dumbledore's kindness hadn't been without some strategy, without understanding how a werewolf indebted to him could prove useful to him in the future. The kindness McGonagall had shown him, on the other hand, was pure. And more than that, she had always treated him with respect, despite what he was, and perhaps even with a bit of affection. He remembered the rare break in her usual professionalism in his sixth year when she had offered him words of comfort after his mother had passed away.

And what had he done? He'd betrayed Dumbledore's trust in his youth and as an adult by being foolhardy and irresponsible and putting his students in danger; just as he'd betrayed McGonagall's trust now by getting involved with Hermione and blowing the second chance she had given him, the second chance that had put her own reputation at risk since unlike when Dumbledore had hired him everyone knew now that he was a werewolf and many parents and members of the wizarding community had fought hard against his appointment.

But McGonagall had fought for him.

Guilt burrowed deeper in his gut. He deserved what he was going to get.

He slumped in his seat, head hanging in his hands, before immediately straightening up again when McGonagall stormed into the office not a minute later. Some of the headmasters jumped in their portraits when she slammed her fists on her desk as she faced him.

In a trembling, ringing voice, she said, "Never — never in my career, or in recent Hogwarts history, has a professor engaged in this sort of misconduct and disgraced the school as you have tonight, Remus. I am appalled by what I just witnessed! You are a teacher, in a position of trusted authority, and I catch you in bed with a student!"

Gasps and mutterings broke out amongst the portraits, more eyes popping open from their pretend slumbers.

"She's a teenager for Merlin's sake!"

McGonagall turned away from him as if she could no longer bear the sight of him and Remus burned with unbearable shame.

"I would never have believed that you . . ." McGonagall shook her head, her lips white as she began to stride briskly back and forth behind her desk. "I didn't believe it when that woman from Honeydukes alluded to something like this at the Three Broomsticks the other night. But I should have known. She wasn't the first person to share with me their suspicions regarding the nature of your relationship with Miss Granger."

More gasps and intensified mutterings came from the portraits at the revelation of who he'd been caught with, while Remus racked his brains for who else could have known about them. 'That woman from Honeydukes' had to be Vivienne, but how could she have possibly found out about him and Hermione?

"But I just couldn't believe . . ." McGonagall slammed her hand on her desk again and shouted, "What in Merlin's name were you thinking?"

"I — I wasn't," he said weakly. "I . . . lost my composure."

"Clearly! And was this the first time or have you 'lost your composure' before? How long has this been going on with Miss Granger? Have there been any other students?"

"No," he said quickly, but one of the portraits interrupted, saying in a smug tone, "I warned you, Minerva. I told you allowing the werewolf to return to the castle would only bring you trouble."

McGonagall stopped her pacing and fixed Remus with the severest of looks. "You gave me your word that you would be responsible about taking your potion — that was the only condition with which I hired you. However, it is obvious from the scene you left behind in your quarters that you haven't taken it today, which means you put Miss Granger in terrible danger. Explain yourself!"

Images of the broken door and shattered glass in his quarters flashed through his mind, and Remus felt sick at the thought of how he could have hurt Hermione. He had no intention to defend himself — he didn't deserve to be defended — but he answered truthfully, "I did take the potion. This morning."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him.

"So this little indiscretion had nothing to do with your lycanthropy? You were in your right mind tonight, acting purely of your own volition, fully aware that your conduct was unethical and grounds for me to dismiss you from your position at this school?"

Remus didn't know how to answer but was spared from having to come up with a response by Hermione suddenly bursting through the door behind him.

"Professor McGonagall — don't fire him! Please, it was my fault! It was me!"

Remus fought the urge to tell Hermione not to do this, to stop. He feared even glancing her direction would incense McGonagall further.

The headmistress looked ready to send her away, but Hermione plunged on.

"Please, Professor, he doesn't deserve to be punished for something I'm responsible for! Please, let me explain!"

McGonagall's severe gaze did not relent. But after a few tense moments her lips twitched and she said to Remus, "Leave us. I will deal with you after I have spoken with Miss Granger."

Hermione self-consciously smoothed her skirt again with sweaty palms. She could feel the attention of the current headmistress along with that of her predecessors trained intently on her, and though she wanted nothing more than to escape the hot beams of their stares, she remained in the seat Remus had vacated, desperate to fix this mess she'd created.

"Professor, what happened tonight . . . it was my fault. Rem — Professor Lupin, he — he didn't want that. He wanted me to stay away."

"What I witnessed suggests quite the contrary, Miss Granger," McGonagall countered, a sharp edge to her voice, and heat rushed to Hermione's cheeks. "Or are you going to tell me that what I saw wasn't what it looked like? That you were not passionately entwined with Professor Lupin, that he did not invite you to his quarters —"

"He didn't invite me, Professor. I went to his office because I needed to speak to him, and I — I just barged into his quarters even though he told me I wasn't allowed in there because I was upset and I needed to talk, and I was the one who initiated everything, Professor, not him. I was the one who kissed him before he could stop me. And he couldn't have stopped me. I know I sh-shouldn't have, especially this close to the full moon, but I just — I just w-wanted . . ."

Hermione trailed off, unable to say aloud what she'd wanted, what she'd hoped to accomplish by kissing Remus like she had, knowing the way she affected him and that he preferred to keep his distance this close to the full moon. Because she hadn't merely been acting on impulse. She'd known full well if she kissed him he likely wouldn't be able to turn her away. So had she hoped to compel him to give in to his feelings and just let himself be with her already despite that being exactly what he had been so insistent on not wanting to do, partly because of fear he might hurt her? Her actions seemed so selfish and reckless now.

"So Olivia was right," McGonagall said tersely over the murmurings of the portraits. She dropped into her chair, bringing Hermione back to attention.

"P-professor Avila?" she said blankly. What did she have to do with any of this?

"She claims you've been harassing Professor Lupin, attempting to seduce him," McGonagall told her tautly, and Hermione's jaw dropped. "She alleged to have overheard part of a conversation between the two of you a couple weeks ago, a conversation in which Professor Lupin was releasing your obligation to assist him with Defense Club and attempting to enforce the proper boundaries between teacher and student, while you insisted on continuing to act as his assistant, assuring him that you knew there could be nothing romantic between you. Did that conversation occur, Miss Granger?"

"I . . . Well . . . yes, a conversation like that did occur, but I — I haven't been harassing him or trying to — to . . ."

But hadn't she just admitted that she'd entered Remus's quarters against his wishes and kissed him because she'd known he wouldn't be able to resist? Her stomach squirmed with shame and she shrank in her seat, covering her mouth with her hand. What she'd done was worse than seduction, she'd practically forced herself on him. . . .

McGonagall's lips pinched tighter, her gaze sweeping over Hermione as if she'd never truly seen her before.

"Professor Avila also alleges to have overheard another snippet of conversation between you two in the Room of Requirement this evening. She said there was mention of a schoolgirl crush, and she also noted that Professor Lupin appeared relieved to part from you when she entered the room, asking to have a word with him. Is that true as well?"

Hermione nodded numbly, too dazed by it all to even feel angry at Professor Avila for eavesdropping on them and for painting her the way she had to the headmistress.

"I must admit," McGonagall said after a short silence, "I found it very difficult to believe Professor Avila's accusation. I was certain she must have misunderstood what she'd overheard. Still, I had to question Professor Lupin about the matter, so I went to his office this evening, and . . . well, here we are.

"I am deeply shocked and extremely disappointed by your conduct, Miss Granger. I would have never expected this of you, of either of you —"

"I beg you, Minerva," said a familiar voice unexpectedly as Hermione shrank further in her seat, "do not judge so harshly without knowing all the facts."

McGonagall swiveled around, shooting an inquiring look at Dumbledore's portrait. "The facts?"

"Yes, the rest of the story." Dumbledore directed his blue gaze toward Hermione. "Miss Granger, you would do well to tell the whole of it."

Hermione stared at him, startled. "Y-you mean . . . everything, sir?"

He nodded. "From the beginning."

But Hermione only regarded him apprehensively, unsure whether telling the whole story would help the situation or just make everything worse.

"Well, go on, Miss Granger," McGonagall demanded.

Hermione bit her lip, afraid of digging Remus into deeper trouble.

She glanced uncertainly between the expectant headmistress and the encouraging Dumbledore, at a loss for what to do. But she didn't have much choice now that Dumbledore had divulged that there was more.

Maybe he was right. Maybe if McGonagall knew more of their story, she would understand. . . .

After another nod from Dumbledore, Hermione took a deep and steadying breath. Then she began to recount her tale.

She started with that night at the Burrow and the rose, speaking haltingly, self-consciously at first, measuring her words and how much to disclose. But as she continued on and told McGonagall about her time travel and her friendship with the younger Remus in the past, as she relived the inner turmoil then joy she experienced over their eventual romantic relationship, and then her heartbreak when she had to leave him and the possibility of ever being with Remus again behind, Hermione became lost in it all, forgetting her audience.

The words began tumbling out of her mouth without her volition and she revealed more than she'd initially intended, but she couldn't hold back her words or her emotions as she described how difficult it had been this past year being around an unwitting Remus, the grief and the guilt and the hope, then how awful things had been after the rose had returned his memories. She was spilling her guts, pouring her heart out, as if she'd taken Veritaserum, completely overwhelmed as she spoke about the roller coaster of emotions the last few days had been, which climaxed with what had happened tonight.

She finished with her face in her hands, shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed sobs.

Only minutes later when Hermione reined in her emotions a bit and became aware of the silence that had fallen, her sniffling the only sound in the room, did she finally uncover her face, remembering that she was not alone. She raised her gaze to McGonagall in a panic, fearing that she'd revealed far too much.

She was surprised to find tears in the headmistress's eyes.

McGonagall cleared her throat and turned to Dumbledore. "You Obliviated my memory?"

"Forgive me, Minerva, but it had to be done. However, if your memories had remained intact you would recall that you've played a significant role in getting these two together." McGonagall raised her eyebrows and Dumbledore went on to explain, "Similarly to how you've paired them this year by suggesting Miss Granger be Remus's assistant, you assigned Remus to be Miss Granger's study partner in the past, thereby appointing them to spend a great deal of time together as he helped her catch up on her coursework. And, might I add, you were quite glad to have had a hand in the match-up. You once confided to me you thought them to be a lovely couple."

"Well, lovely couple or not," McGonagall said heavily, eyes closing as she bowed her head slightly and rubbed the bridge of her nose, "there are rules forbidding any sort of romantic relationship between teacher and student, rules with serious consequences if ever they are broken as Remus has broken them."

"But you won't fire him, will you, Professor?" Hermione asked anxiously. "He was trying to stay away. I was the one who went after him and initiated everything."

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but regardless of who pursued whom, Professor Lupin is responsible for his misconduct," McGonagall replied grimly, and Hermione's stomach clenched with guilt. "Now, I must ask you to return to your dormitory while I settle this matter."

Hermione had never felt so helpless. None of it mattered, what she'd revealed about the rose and the time travel. It didn't matter that she'd confessed her love for Remus, nor that despite the way he might feel for her he had intended to keep his distance. McGonagall was still going to fire him.

She shouldn't have kissed him, shouldn't have gone to see him tonight. She should have waited until the holidays to speak to him, waited until they could meet away from the school, away from the danger of being caught, as Remus had suggested.

But she had been impatient and careless and now he was going to lose the job he loved. Because of her. It was all her fault.

Remus looked around at the damage he'd done in his quarters. The room didn't look nearly as bad as the Shrieking Shack used to look after he'd spent the full moon there, but it was still unnervingly reminiscent.

But at least he hadn't hurt Hermione. Thank heavens for that.

McGonagall was right when she'd said he'd put Hermione in terrible danger. She was right to fire him. He deserved to get sacked. And part of Remus felt relieved to leave Hogwarts as he packed his things after cleaning up his mess. Another part of him, however, shattered a bit when he threw the last of his belongings into his suitcase.

And when he reached for the rose, his chest tightened. He thought back to the night he'd picked it, how much had happened between Hermione and himself since, and how much he regretted what was happening now. . . .

Remus waited for McGonagall in his office, each passing minute feeling like an eternity. Finally, around midnight, she came.

She glanced down at his luggage as she swept into the room, her eyes lingering a moment on the rose atop his suitcase. He silently cursed himself for not packing it away out of sight and hoped she didn't think he intended to give it to Hermione.

But McGonagall made no mention of the rose when her hard gaze met his. "You've already packed, I see."

He gave a small nod, and when an uncomfortable silence followed, he stepped forward, eager to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible. "Minerva — Headmistress . . . I cannot express enough how deeply grateful I am for the opportunity you've given me to teach at this school, and how — how deeply I regret having let you down. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you. I'll show myself out."

He picked up his things and quickly started toward the door.

"Remus, stop," McGonagall commanded before he could reach it.

He cringed as he paused in his tracks. He should have known she wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. Steeling himself for whatever more she had to say to him, he slowly turned back around.

"Put down your things and sit down."

He did as she ordered while she remained standing, as intimidating a figure as she'd seemed to him the first time he'd met her as a child.

"Listen to me carefully," she said sternly as he peered up at her. "You are forbidden — I repeat, forbidden — from seeing Miss Granger for the rest of the school year. You are not to be alone with her. You are not to speak to her or interact with her in any way outside of lessons, and even in class any contact between you must be kept to the barest minimum and only when absolutely necessary. Do you understand?"

He frowned slightly, perplexed as he turned her words over in his mind.

"Remus?"

"No, I . . . what?" He didn't understand. What did she mean by 'for the rest of the school year' and 'in class'?

"You and Miss Granger cannot be romantically involved while she is at Hogwarts." When his confusion only deepened, McGonagall added, "You and Miss Granger cannot be involved while you are still her professor."

"Still her . . ." He blinked. His ears must be playing tricks on him. Because she couldn't have just said. . . .

"Yes, professor. I am not firing you, Remus, nor am I allowing you to resign. However, if I hear — and believe me there will be eyes on you — that you are secretly carrying on with Miss Granger, I, as headmistress of this school, will have no choice but to dismiss you immediately. Is that clear?"

He shook his head slightly. He must have fallen asleep while waiting for McGonagall in his office and was now dreaming. She couldn't really have said he was still a professor, couldn't really be giving him another chance. . . could she?

"Remus?" she said sharply.

"Y-yes," he managed to answer despite the disbelief dulling his mind.

"Good." McGonagall's expression softened slightly. "Now," she continued, her tone softer as well, "as your friend, Remus . . . I do sincerely hope you will seek Hermione out after graduation."

Yes, this was definitely a dream. It had to be.

McGonagall gave him a faint smile as he stared at her incredulously. "Love is precious. If you are fortunate enough to have found it, it would be a terrible shame for you to forsake it."

And with that she walked out of the room, leaving him sitting there, utterly stunned, for a long while.