AN: Sup guys? I'm literally posting this while sitting in my family room, watching these gorgeous fat, fluffy snowflakes fall outside my patio door, enjoying the aroma of the Christmas tree we just put up yesterday. My surroundings are so insanely Christmasy right now, and just the thought of the Christmas concert I'm performing in this afternoon...can you tell I love Christmas? I hope you all have a day as lovely as mine is right now! Enjoy!

December 16th—The Third Day of Christmas

Remus wasn't one to be rendered speechless very often. He was nearly always of sound enough mind to form coherent thoughts and sentences, and yet something in the last couple of days had changed that. It was really no mystery what this something was; Hermione Granger was quickly invading his brain and affecting his every thought.

From the moment she had stepped down the staircase the previous evening in those sexy leggings that showed off her slender legs, the scent of what Remus could only define as 'warm and sweet' tickling his senses when she walked by, Remus had known that his already questionable restraint would be practically non-existent by the end of the evening. He had been more right than he had expected.

Remus could have blamed it on the weather, that damned pathetic fallacy creating the perfect romantic atmosphere for their walk. He definitely could have blamed it on the whimsical joy she received from catching the snow on her tongue and eating that fantastic grilled cheese. Or perhaps he could have blamed it on blood; how it rushed to her cheeks, giving her that gorgeous innocent look, and how that image made all of his blood rush to his—never mind…

Anyways, Remus knew better than to blame anyone or anything but himself for his actions last night. Sure, there were some factors that definitely did not help, but he was solely responsible for what he did. Remus ran his hands through his hair compulsively (not unlike James used to in moments of stress like this) and thought back to how everything culminated to that very big mistake last night.

Remus and Hermione had stayed at the restaurant for perhaps two hours, eating their food and drinking once their bellies had been sufficiently filled. Remus was quite partial to wizard alcohol, but Hermione had shown him a few muggle drinks that he thought were pretty good as well.

Once they had had their fill of alcohol and were both decently tipsy, they paid the bill and started their journey home. By that time, the snowfall had escalated to a bit of a snowstorm. The wind was howling and they could barely see ten feet in front of them, but it was still safe enough for them to walk home.

Hermione and Remus were laughing and stumbling together, enjoying the combination of cold from the snow and warmth from the alcohol. It was fun being drunk with Hermione because she never forced him into stupid stunts or dares like Sirius did. Instead, they continued their light teasing and did their best to impersonate Queen's song Bohemian Rhapsody, laughing at how it echoed into the night, mixing with the sound of the howling winds.

About five minutes away from the house, Hermione started to shiver. She hadn't dressed very warmly due to the mild weather earlier and she wasn't wearing any gloves. Remus wasn't wearing any either, but his hands were nice and cozy in his pockets, unlike Hermione's which were probably frozen from making a snowball and throwing it at him earlier. Remus, being much too inebriated to have his usual common sense, stopped Hermione and took her hands and began rubbing them between his to warm them up. He did this for a minute or so, trying his best to warm up her little, frozen hands. And boy were they little. Remus couldn't help but marvel at how small and dainty they were, like those of a child.

Hermione looked up at Remus with an intense look in her eye, and just like that, what started off as something with innocent intentions was now full of heat and lust. Remus, holding both her hands in only one of his own, took his other hand and raised it slowly to her face to push a stray curl back behind her ear. When she didn't give any sign of disgust or protest, Remus curled the tip of one of her many tendrils around his finger, almost in a reverent manner. When he looked back into her eyes, he saw that her lids had closed and she was biting her lip in a way that aroused Remus beyond words.

When Hermione gave another shiver, one that Remus mistook for an effect of the weather rather than of his romantic ministrations, he dropped his hands and motioned for her to finish the final five minutes of their walk home.

Longest five minutes of his life.

They had both become significantly less talkative since that heated moment, though their silence wasn't awkward at all—it was charged with electricity. They were both replaying the scene they had just acted out over and over in their still drunken minds, and there was a feeling of excitement that warmed them both up from the inside out, despite the ever-increasing winds. The snow was now swirling all around them, creating a whirlwind of confusion and exhilaration, increasing the buzz of anticipation flowing like electricity between them. Remus' entire focus was on the girl walking next to him, and he had nothing in his mind except want. Want that was quickly turning into need.

Before either one of them realized what was going on, they had entered the warmth of number twelve Grimmauld Place, and within two seconds Hermione was being sandwiched between Remus and the wall having her mouth assaulted by his own liquor-flavoured one. They were both moaning into each other's mouths, their boots and coats had somehow come off, and they were all over each other. They had become a tangle of limbs; Hermione's legs wrapped around his waist, her hands running through his hair while Remus' hands were exploring her back, slowly making their way to her arse…

And that was all that Remus remembered. He woke up the next day in his bed, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, save for his shirt, which he must have stripped off somewhere between making out and losing consciousness, and was nursing a massive hangover.

It was nearly noon now and most of his headache had passed. He had gone over the events of last night countless times in his head, and yet he still couldn't piece together how on earth he had gone from snogging the hell out of Hermione to sleeping alone in his bed. And he did feel the slightest amount of bitterness that he had gone to bed without Hermione, though he knew it was probably a good thing if his hangover was any indication of how drunk he had been.

Suddenly, there was a knock at Remus' bedroom door. He looked down at himself to find that he was still shirtless and scrambled to throw on a shirt to cover his scars.

"I'll be just a second," he called out frantically, realizing that he was trying to fit his head through a sleeve hole. As soon as he managed to cover himself up decently, he flopped back down onto his bed in an attempt to look casual and called for Hermione to enter.

She opened the door just wide enough for her to peek her head inside, almost as though she was scared to enter his room. Damnit, she's embarrassed and regrets last night. I knew it…

"I made some eggs for breakfast—or lunch I guess—if you want some. They're nothing fancy, you know, what with my inability to—uh—cook things…" she stuttered, never meeting his eyes. Remus wanted to repeatedly smash his head into the wall until he was no longer conscious. He was such a horrible person. How on earth could he make this up to her? Well, I could probably start by accepting her offer of eggs…

"Eggs sound great" Remus muttered with a guilty almost-smile. All this self-hatred was making his hangover about three times worse than it already was.

As Remus and Hermione walked awkwardly down the stairs together, Remus was wondering how Sirius could easily snog a drunk girl every week and never feel an ounce of guilt, and yet the one time that he tries it with a girl he actually knows, he starts pondering ways to commit a horrible, painful suicide.

Hermione went to the stove to grab the pan of scrambled eggs she had made while Remus sat down at the table. He was staring at his plate emptily, trying to form some sort of decent apology for his colossal screw-up. Hermione served some egg to both of them, then sat down and assumed a similar position to Remus'.

"So…I know these eggs are probably crap. Believe it or not, the intent with them was actually an omelet…and yet they still somehow turned out scrambled. Anyways, I hope it'll be at least semi-edible. I swear, I only used eggs from the finest of french hens and I'm pretty sure I managed to scrape out most of the shells…" she muttered awkwardly, evidently struggling to start a conversation. Remus couldn't take it anymore.

"Hermione, I am so sorry for last night. I know you probably think me a pervert and an arse, and what I did—"

"What are you talking about Remus?" Hermione cut him off, confusion etched into her features. Oh Merlin…she doesn't remember, does she?

"Last night…you do remember what happened last night, don't you?"

"Well of course I do, but I'm honestly surprised that you remember it all," Hermione shot back with her eyebrows knitted together.

"Well…to be honest, I don't remember some of it, but I remember enough to know that I was in the wrong and that I took advantage of you," Remus admitted with some difficulty. His shoulders were tensed in preparation for the moment when Hermione would start yelling at him.

"Remus, you weren't the one who took advantage last night. I took advantage of you. You were drunk and—"

"Well I'd say we were both equally drunk, but I was the one who came onto you and—"

"Of course we weren't equally drunk, you silly man! I wasn't half as drunk as you were! I stopped after the fourth round. I thought that at least one of us should remain semi-sober, and since dinner was my treat I let you get pissed. I let you come onto me and make out with me, therefore it is me who is the arse, not you."

Remus took a moment to let this sink in. She hadn't been drunk when they kissed? Did that mean that it was a conscious decision? Remus clutched his forehead in pain, dropping his fork noisily onto his plate of forgotten eggs.

"The last thing I remember from last night is kissing you. Next thing I know, it's ten a.m. and I have a massive hangover…can you tell me what happened in between? We didn't—?"

"No, of course we didn't!" Hermione blurted out quickly. Remus' heart sunk. She was obviously appalled at the idea of sleeping with him.

"Okay, so we just…stopped?" Remus asked, feeling as though he was missing something big.

"Yes. I stopped us once I came to my senses. You were so drunk that half of your sentences weren't even coherent, and so I did the responsible thing and stopped us. I brought you to your room, where you promptly dropped on your bed and passed out."

Remus, again, had to take a minute to digest this. Hermione's words were spewing out of her mouth faster than his brain could properly process them. At first his heart sunk a little at that tone of regret in her voice, but soon enough the realization that he wasn't a complete asshole and pervert—that Hermione knew of, at least—sunk in and a weight seemed to lift from his chest.

"Remus, I can't tell you how sorry I am! You weren't responsible for your own actions, but I was, and they were completely inappropriate. I am so horribly embarrassed and I would totally understand if you don't forgive me. I packed my bags last night just in case, and though I don't have anywhere of my own to go, I'm sure I could crash with Harry for—"

"What? Of course I don't want you to leave! Unless you want to, that is…"

"No, I really don't."

There was a pause that seemed to stretch on for ages while both of them tried to process everything. Remus sighed.

"Hermione, I know this will be hard for both of us, but perhaps it would be beneficial to both of us if we were just straightforward with each other for the next few minutes. All this tiptoeing around each other is useless and annoying, and so can we just say what we mean so that we aren't here for another three months?" Remus winced a little. It was a terrifying suggestion, but he knew that it was the only way they would get anywhere.

"Straightforward? Define straightforward…" Hermione murmured hesitantly.

"Um, I don't know…it's an adjective meaning honest, uncomplicated…"

"Oh, shut up! You know what I mean." Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. The atmosphere had shifted a little, and now it was just slightly more comfortable. Remus thanked Merlin for that fact because things were probably going to get uncomfortable again soon.

"Alright. By straightforward I mean we stop worrying so much about what the other person is going to think and say about what we are feeling. We tell each other how we truly feel right now."

"Alright, I think I can handle that. May I add a rule?" Hermione asked, pursing her lips to hide the small smile forming there.

"You may," Remus chuckled, not surprised by this at all.

Hermione looked down into her lap and blushed a little. "I propose we have a rule stating that we can't interrupt each other, that we have to wait until a person is done speaking their feelings before they pitch in."

"I accept the proposition. You do realize that we are by far the most stubbornly logical Gryffindors to ever exist, right?"

"Second to Minerva McGonagall, yes," Hermione laughed.

"Agreed."

Yet another pause.

"So who goes first?" Hermione asked a little too eagerly.

"I'm getting the feeling that you want to," Remus asked with a small smirk and narrowed eyebrows. Hermione nodded eagerly and began.

"Okay, so I know I sort of just went, but I feel like I emphasized my apology a little too much. That was a great kiss—I mean, they were great kisses," Hermione amended with another signature blush, "and, though I know it was inappropriate, I don't regret it at all. So…how is that for straightforward?"

"Perfect," Remus muttered under his breath without hesitation, his eyes locked on hers in shock. She didn't regret it? Did that mean…could he hope against hope that—?

"What?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion for the hundredth time so far this conversation.

"I don't regret it either. In fact, if I'm being honest…I haven't been able to stop fantasizing about making out with you since you arrived on the doorstep…among other things…" Remus trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand nervously.

"Wait, so you aren't mad at me?" she asked incredulously.

"Of course not! Why on earth would I be mad at you? You…you…" Remus trailed off, realization hitting him like the Hogwarts express. He couldn't possibly date Hermione, even if they could get past the age difference. It was a simple reason why it would never work out, and Remus couldn't believe he had forgotten it: he was a werewolf.

"Remus? Are you okay? What's—"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It was dumb of us to even consider this. We can't do this, it's just wrong. It's—"

"You interrupted me," she stated, sounding hurt and offended.

Remus sighed impatiently. "The game is over, Hermione. The rules no longer apply. Let me make this clear so that you don't misinterpret this—"

"NO! SHUT UP!" Hermione yelled, surprising not only Remus but herself as well, though she hid it well. "Remus Lupin, I swear to Merlin that if your reasoning behind not wanting to do…whatever this is has anything to do with your lycanthropy or your age, GODRIC HELP ME I WILL BE FORCED TO WOLLOP YOU OVER THE HEAD WITH A ROLLING PIN! If I'm lucky, it might knock some sense into you!"

Remus was actually quite stunned. He had heard stories from Harry of Hermione's temper, but it was all legend to him up until now. This woman was truly terrifying. Though perhaps even scarier was the fact that her fierceness did nothing to quell his ever-growing crush.

"Hermione, I know that you would be alright with it. Hell, if you were best friends with The Boy Who Lived for all those years at Hogwarts, you must have some sort of danger fetish or death wish. But that's beside the point. I don't think you realize how I would feel if I ever did accidentally hurt you. I would never be able to live with myself. There's a reason that werewolves never marry non-werewolves, Hermione. The chances of me hurting you are too high…"

Remus' brow furrowed when Hermione's face remained unimpressed and almost bored. He had expected a little more of a sorrowful reaction. What Remus didn't know was that Hermione didn't like bullshit. After all those months in the tent with Harry and Ron, the Kings of Bullshit, she had developed a general rule to never even bother putting up with bullshit.

"Are you done yet?" she asked, raising an impatient eyebrow.

"Wha—um, I suppose?" Remus spluttered.

"Good. I don't give a crap. That's positively ridiculous—you're being positively ridiculous! This is the wizarding world, for Christ's sake! Do you know how many times a year a spouse blows up another spouse as a result of a faulty potion or spell experiment? The wizarding world has never been a safe place, and if I was actually afraid of losing my life to some accident in the magical world, I wouldn't still be here, would I? But the thing is, I love magic too much. Magic is worth the risk, and so are you, Remus Lupin. And plus, you aren't a compulsive potion experimenter and you never really do anything risky ever, so that just about evens out the odds of me dying around you to the odds of me dying around any other wizard. Oh! And another thing—"

Hermione's rant was so angry and fast and she was still so focused on proving her point to Remus that she didn't even notice when the man in question sprang up from his seat, leaned across the narrow table and press his lips to hers, effectively cutting her off. She had proved her point. Angry Hermione was hot, but she was also very long-winded.

Remus could sort of see things from her point of view—that wasn't to say that he agreed with them—but he definitely understood her point enough to stop arguing. For now.

Hermione was the one to pull away from the kiss, placing her hands on his cheeks and pushing away just slightly. She pierced him with a distrusting look. "You can't have abandoned your beliefs this easily. You're too stubborn. Even if I made a good point, which I did, you still would never concede this quickly."

"You are too shrewd, Miss Granger," Remus said in his old teacher voice just for the effect, "but just because I'm tired of hearing you prattle on about your views on lycanthrope-witch dating, I'm calling a truce. Your lips are much too kissable when you vociferate as you just did, and so I'm doing my duty as a warm-blooded male and I'm kissing the hell out of you."

He started to kiss her again, but Hermione pushed him back again, only a little so that they could still feel their breath mingling between them. Hermione, adopting that little cheeky twinkle in her eye again, muttered: "I'm glad you aren't fully convinced yet because I have another three body paragraphs beginning to form in my head, and all of them are truly wonderful points that I think you would be able to appreciate."

"I swear, the more swot-like you act, the more I feel the urge to thoroughly snog you."

"Then why don't you?" she smiled cheekily before grabbing a fistful of Remus' sleep-mussed hair and continued to kiss him.