A/N: *Disclaimer: In conformance with the canonical universe, this story treats 17 as the age of majority and takes into consideration the 2003 Act's provisions on 'abuse of position of trust.' This story is purely fictional, and strongly disagrees with real-life breaches of ethical principles pertaining to the Act. Hermione turns 17 in this story, so please take this as a warning if you find it uncomfortable.

—

CHAPTER 1 - HIS FAVOURITE

He felt like the older brother she'd always wished she had.

When he was their teacher in third-year, Professor Lupin was ever so kind and thoughtful, not to mention intelligent and effortlessly charming even in his shabby clothes.

To everyone's delight, his clothes were no longer shabby.

After he left Hogwarts two years ago, Hermione, Ron and Harry worried that their favourite werewolf would go without work, but the perfect solution presented itself in the form of one very petty and very rich Sirius Black who hired his fellow Marauder to uproot and disarm dark artefacts within Number 12 Grimmauld Place, citing the need to publicly align his ancestral home with the side of the Light, now that he walked a free man. The Ministry of Magic had been terribly apologetic over the whole Prisoner of Azkaban affair, and Sirius liked to passive-aggressively remind them as often as he could that he was actively ridding wizarding Britain of Dark influences from bygone days, while they still insisted on twiddling their thumbs whenever Carrow or Bulstrode strutted into the Wizengamot. Tut. Tut. Shame oh, shame oh, shame.

This was how they found that their ex-professor was good at curse-breaking.

In fact, Remus was so thorough with Grimmauld Place that he managed the impossible feat of making Walburga Black run screaming from her portrait in despair, and they were finally able to take her empty frame down. The Permanent Sticking Charm that held the mounted house-elf heads to their plaques also gave way, much to Hermione's relief. As such, when the desperate Ministry of Magic got wind of his accomplishments at the Black family estate, the Department of Magical Artefacts immediately offered Remus an incredibly high-paying position as a Curse-Breaker, all lycanthropic necessities accommodated.

Remus was now the proud owner of richly tailored robes, a spacious flat in Mayfair (though he still liked to spend most of his time at Grimmauld Place), far fewer stress lines and an unguarded, charming smile that lit up his handsome face.

That disarming smile, and how he'd duck his head shyly whenever people swooned at the sight of him in public won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award twelve times in a row, much to his chagrin, and much to the trio's savage glee that it surpassed Gilderoy Lockhart's claim to fame.

It was astonishing what recognition of talent over supernatural conditions could do to a person.

'I didn't ask for any of it. I'm just enjoying a more comfortable life, but they wouldn't let me be.' Remus murmured into his tea one time a journalist raised his camera expectantly, and tried to sink into the wrap-around collar of his coat. His wavy hair was artfully tousled by the breeze, giving him an endearingly windswept look, which did nothing to dampen the public's ardour.

Hermione had laughed at the pink tints that kissed the tip of his ears. Remus was too unintentionally charming for his own good.

It was the summer before their sixth year at Hogwarts, with everybody gathered at the now much more habitable Grimmauld Place. Hermione would soon be turning seventeen, and she was rather looking forward to lording it over Harry and Ron: using magic outside of Hogwarts, apparating whenever she felt like it. Oh, being of age came with many perks indeed.

The year ahead seemed promising, and best of all…

Hermione looked up from her reclined position on the Black library's sofa to see Remus Lupin nibbling on his quill, his verdant eyes gleaming gold in the late afternoon sun as he studiously poured over The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble.

'Stop that, you'll ruin the quill.' She nudged his calf with her toe. 'And don't you have something better to occupy your time? That's a first-year text. Surely you know it by heart already, Professor.'

Remus nudged back distractedly, the sole of his foot warm on her ankle. 'We're all headed to Diagon Alley tomorrow aren't we?' he murmured, eyes never leaving the pages. 'I'll just get a new one then. And it never hurts to revise before the term; you of all people should appreciate that, Miss Granger.'

Indeed it was shaping up to be a good year, because Hogwarts was once again without a Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor (thanks to Hermione, Harry and a herd of centaurs), and Remus was offered the position, much to his ex-students' excitement. It would be odd calling him Professor again since they'd grown close in the last couple of years, but Hermione enjoyed the way his cheeks sometimes reddened when addressed by the title, and strived to tease him mercilessly for it throughout the summer. It was good practice.

As bookworms who enjoyed late afternoons in the sunlit Black library, Hermione and Remus naturally gravitated towards each other over the past holidays. They sometimes built pillow forts when it was chilly, and huddled together under blankets as they shared mugs of hot chocolate. Often, Remus would read over her shoulder when they were interested in the same title and weren't keen on waiting, or he would read aloud with her head pillowed in his lap, fingers carding through Hermione's hair as his steady voice carried the words.

Sirius sniggered and called her Moony's less hairy twin once. Molly threw a soapy frying pan at him. To be fair, Hermione did spend a fair bit of time as half-a-cat after that episode of polyjuice potion gone wrong, but she was not about to arm Sirius Black with that kind of knowledge.

'Well, just you wait.' Hermione mumbled as she went back to her own book. 'You'll be sprouting wings in about fifteen seconds by my calculations. That's a quill from Fred and George's joke shop.'

Remus quickly dislodged the quill from between his lips and threw her an alarmed gaze. Hermione burst out laughing. 'Oh it feels just divine to tease you, Remus. I shall miss it when we return to Hogwarts.'

He fixed her with a withering glare. 'Don't try anything funny in class. And for the love of Merlin, don't wear that jumper around the school. If people remember, it might give them the wrong impression.'

Hermione eyed the well-worn knitted jumper that she had shrunk and was wearing in place of a shirt, relishing how the old material was sinfully soft against her skin. She narrowed her eyes at Remus. 'I bought you a perfectly fine replacement last Christmas. Let me keep this one.'

'It's old and tatty. I should have burnt it in the fire years ago.' He wrinkled his nose in distaste. 'You're too lovely to be wearing that atrocity.'

'I happen to like it.'

'Padfoot's probably slobbered all over it at some point too.'

'That's disgusting, Remus.'

'Yeah, that's disgusting, Remus.' A very dashing looking Sirius Black chose that moment to saunter into the library. 'Ready to go, you two?'

'Go where?' Remus scrunched up his face, not looking too keen to leave the patch of sunlight he was basking in.

'Diagon Alley.'

'I thought we were going tomorrow,' said Hermione, also not keen to leave their shared patch of sunlight.

Sirius fixed them with a glare. 'The others are going tomorrow, but I thought we could go today, grab all the necessities, then you two could slobber over all the books in Flourish and Blotts together, while I go have a nice drink or three in the Leaky without Molly Weasley rushing everybody about.'

Hermione's brows rose and she closed her book. 'That's awfully thoughtful of you, Sirius. I'm sold. Remus, C'mon.'

'But I'm comfortable here,' the werewolf whined, trying to bury himself into the sofa, his soft brown hair falling into his eyes.

'Don't make me tickle you.'

'Yeah, don't make us tickle you, Moony.'

'Shut up, Pads.'

'Do me the honour, Hermione.'

Remus's cry of alarm was cut short by a fit of laughter that tore from his throat when Hermione launched herself at him. 'Stop it!' he complained wheezily, trying to bat her hands away. 'It tickles!'

'That's the point, Moony.' Sirius crossed his arms and smirked.

His skin was warm under her hands when she slipped them under his shirt to tickle his sides mercilessly. His laughter was contagious, and Hermione soon giggled with him. She buried her face into his neck and breathed in the comforting scent of wintergreen and pine trees. Her puffing breaths caused Remus to wriggle and groan, 'I yield! I yield! Fine. We'll go to Diagon Alley.'

Sirius clapped her shoulder proudly on their way out.

—

Whatever plans Sirius had at Diagon Alley were off the table as soon as they set foot into the Leaky Cauldron. The trio made their way to a corner of the pub where the majority of its patrons were crowded around Bill Weasley who had a grey, Muggle television sitting in front of him, and was fiddling with the antennas. 'Back off, you lot! Reception's bad enough as it is. Charlie's filming the match from the pitch, but I need to figure out what in Merlin's pants dad did to make this thing work—aha!'

Bill's crow of triumph drew the crowd again, and soon, Sirius joined the gathering, hollering excitedly. The screen was fuzzy, and the sound was even worse, but it was obviously a Quidditch match being streamed live on a wobbling camera, along with Charlie Weasley's personal commentary.

'I don't care for Quidditch,' murmured Remus.

'Neither do I.' Hermione shrugged. 'Let's leave him here.'

They made their way into Diagon Alley, first whizzing down Gringotts' underground to take out some coins, where she was pleased to see that Remus was having a much easier time with his galleons. They then stopped by the Apothecary for Hermione to stock up on the necessary potions ingredients. Afternoon soon rolled into evening, but midsummer meant that it was still light out, and Remus bought them both raspberry and chocolate ice-creams from Florean Fortescue's parlour. They then meandered into Magical Menagerie, very much against Remus's wish, and Hermione soon found out why.

Every single animal in the place scurried to the back of their cage, squeaking and hooting and meowing in fear when he walked passed, clearly sensing the werewolf within. Remus winced and murmured something about him never having a pet for this reason. The two hurried out of the shop but, at Hermione's curious insistence, stopped by Eeylops Owl Emporium, where much the same thing happened. Eventually, she gave up and they were on their way out when Hermione spied a quiet little brown owl watching Remus with unguarded, wide eyes from a perch by the window nearest to the exit.

'Seems to like you, that one.' Nodded the shop owner at the owl. 'Not from our stock, so she doesn't have a pedigree I'm afraid. Fell off that tree out front some weeks ago; I placed her there to see if the mother would come pick her up, but no such luck. Still an owlet so she won't fly for another month or so. Been slumbering the days away till she saw you.'

'Isn't she cute?' Hermione whispered.

Remus looked at the little owl longingly. 'Yes, but werewolves aren't supposed to have one.'

It was a load of rubbish, but Hermione chose not to argue with him then.

They soon found themselves inside a vibrant and bustling Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where Hermione was surprised that Remus took an interest in the twin's Defence Against the Dark Arts product range.

'I didn't think you'd approve, as a professor.' She stood next to him, cocking her head at the Shield Hats, Shield Cloaks and Shield Gloves. 'Didn't you say that Protego is among the most fundamental shield charms students ought to perfect?'

Remus laughed lightly, reaching out to feel the fabric of the products. 'Only you would remember something I said nearly three years ago. I'm considering these as extra precautionary measures. People like you and Harry won't ever need them, but the younger years tend to be more rambunctious with their casting and enjoy experimenting with spells they don't have full command of. You also remember what happened to Ronald and that Hinkypunk, don't you?'

Hermione chuckled at the memory, and left him to peruse Decoy Detonators and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

She was soon accosted by an excited looking Lavender Brown. 'Hi Hermione!'

'Good to see you, Lavender.' She picked up a small Pygmy Puff. 'Isn't he just gorgeous?'

'Quite,' replied Lavender breathlessly, ignoring the furry creature in favour of ogling Remus Lupin across the shop. 'Merlin. When did he get so handsome? I saw him on the covers of Witch Weekly and couldn't believe my eyes!'

'He's always been handsome.' Hermione rubbed the Pygmy Puff behind the ear. 'Just couldn't afford to take care of himself. Still, you and Parvati swooned at him enough in class.'

'Guilty.' Lavender sighed fondly at the memory. 'And what can I say? We never discriminate where the subject in question is good-looking.'

'Ah. Firenze.'

'That's Professor Firenze to you, Miss Granger! Anyway, Professor Lupin cleaned up really well. I'm so glad he got rid of those old jumpers, because that Henley fits him like sin. And that new hairstyle! Oh dear, how are we expected to focus in his class this year?'

Hermione tugged self-consciously at the jumper she liberated from Remus, hoping Lavender wouldn't notice she was wearing it. She chuckled. 'I'm sure we'll manage. Professor Lupin is the best DADA teacher we'll ever get.'

'Certainly the dreamiest,' sighed Lavender.

'Didn't you say the same about Lockhart?'

'Pot. Kettle. You were Professor Lockhart's biggest fan. You even knew his favourite colour was lilac!'

'We all made mistakes in the folly of our youths.'

'Hello ladies.' Fred Weasley enigmatically appeared on her right-hand side, flashing a wide grin that meant nothing good. 'Would you care to try—'

'No,' said Hermione.

Fred gave an exaggerated pout, 'You're no fun. I—oh.' He looked to the side just in time to see Lavender cough up a bunch of wisteria while shooting George a spiteful glare. 'Ah, I see this young lady has found our Hanahaki Honey-cake.'

'You said it was a sponge cake!' Lavender shot at George, coughing up the last of the flowers.

'It is!' said George defensively, but a grin split his face. 'With some minor adjustments. It's aimed at the gents, really. Struggling to leave a bad date? Have one and cough up flowers to give to your date.' He shrugged. 'Love her and leave her—or him.'

'Lupin's been looking for you.' Fred said in a low voice to Hermione as he caught Remus's eye and waved at their professor. 'Over here, Master Marauder Moony!'

Hermione had to stifle a laugh at how badly Remus cringed, as he made his way towards them and the whole shop turned to watch him with varying degrees of admiration. He hissed at the twins, 'I was hoping to keep a low profile.'

'Never.' George chimed in, throwing an arm over Remus's shoulders. 'Nothing attracts customers as keenly as having a sexy werewolf professor in the shop. Thirty percent off on all your purchases for this PR opportunity, Remus old boy.'

'Hello, Professor Lupin,' greeted Lavender with a fierce blush.

'Hello, Lavender.' He smiled at her warmly. 'I look forward to having you in my class again this year.'

Lavender squealed, turned as red as a tomato and slipped away.

'You're onto something.' Hermione nodded approvingly at George. 'Perhaps Remus could help you out on weekends.'

'Yes, we should come up with a range aimed at middle-aged witches.' Fred rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyes following Lavender who was browsing the store and darting not-so-covert glances at Remus. 'All the young ones will be off at Hogwarts.'

'Frederic Septimus Weasley!' Lupin growled warningly.

'Ooh,' cooed George entrepreneurially, eyes widening. 'Middle-aged witches and wizards. I know lots of men who'd be into that growl.'

Before the situation could escalate any further, Remus rubbed his temple and turned to Hermione. 'Shall we get going?'

She nodded and addressed the twins again. 'Just one last thing. Do you have quills that dissuade nibblers from nibbling?'

'Miss Granger. I'm tempted to give you detention for your impertinence.'

'Professor Lupin likes to chew.'

'Kinky,' said George with a wink.

'Not yet, but give us a bit and we'll develop one.' laughed Fred mischievously. 'We'll call it PILF in honour of you, Remus, my good chap. 'Professor I'd like to F—'

'Fifty points from Gryffindor,' declared Remus, dragging her from the shop.

Remus's blush calmed down once they reached Flourish and Blotts and the smell of books perfumed the air. Hermione browsed the titles enthusiastically, and was soon lost in the enchantment of the bookstore. By the time they noticed the clock, the sky was already glowing with a faint pinkish tint of the setting sun. They hurriedly paid for their purchases (forty-five books combined! Remus lauded Hermione for the extension charm on her handbag) and rushed to their last stop: Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

The last light of day washed upon Diagon Alley's cobblestone street like gentle waves sweeping ashore. Hermione bundled her new school robes into her handbag, just as Remus was putting away his new sets of professor robes. She looked down at the list in her hand and muttered, 'I forgot they're doing another Yule Ball this year. We'll both need dress robes.' She turned to Madam Malkin, but a gentle tap on her wrist from Remus made her raise a quizzical brow at him.

'Not here,' he murmured, ushering her out of the shop with a quick thank you to its matron. The streets were almost deserted, and so Remus had no qualm in taking her hand and guiding Hermione down towards the south end of the alley, not stopping until they came to stand in front of a luxury fashion-wear store with a sign written in curling loops: Twilfitt and Tattings.

'I can't afford anything from here!' She hissed in alarm, but his hand gave a gentle tug, and her soon-to-be professor pulled Hermione into the quiet and airy shop.

'Consider it your birthday present,' he said. 'It's unlikely I'll have the chance to get you anything nice while we're at Hogwarts.'

The glimmering lights from the chandelier fell on glittering ball-gowns displayed on mannequins, refined and exquisite, unlike anything Hermione had ever worn. Yes, her parents were dentists; yes she was considered middle-class by Muggle standards, but this was Twilfitt and Tattings. The Malfoys shopped here!

'You really don't need to.' She took a hesitant step back.

'Indulge me. I want to.'

Remus's warm grip on her hand was firm. He glanced down at Hermione with that blasted smile that won Witch Weekly twelve times in a row, and it really was not a fair fight. How was she expected to contend with that?

She wrapped her arms around his middle and gave him a tight hug. 'You're too kind.'

He chuckled, looping an arm around her waist and dropping a kiss to her hair. 'And you're my favourite.'

'Oh how sweet!' The shop's matron glided out from behind the rows of fabric to greet them with a dazzling smile. 'I wish I had a brother like you when I was her age—or is it uncle?' She cocked her head at Remus but did not really seem to be waiting for an answer. 'Hogwarts Yule, I take it?'

They both nodded.

'Excellent.' The matron started waving her wand and ball-gowns flew into her arms. 'Floor-length? Long-sleeves? Ruffles? Silk?'

Hermione spent the next hour trying on what seemed like a hundred ball-gowns, shaking her head when the matron tried to thrust ones with plunging necklines or high leg slits at her. 'I'm not Narcissa Malfoy!' she whispered frantically at Remus who chuckled, and passed her a beautiful gown with off-the-shoulder straps instead.

'Here, I think this will look lovely on you.'

Hermione's eyes lit on the garment; it had a blood red corset bodice that gently bled into full white skirts trailing the floor, understated and elegant. 'Oh.'

'You have a keen eye, Mister.' The shop matron said as she came bustling back with another gown on her arm. It was exactly the same design as the one Remus passed to Hermione, but in Forget-me-not blue. 'Here. Try both.'

Hermione glanced into the mirror, holding up one gown, then the other, and found that she could not decide. Suddenly, she had a stroke of genius.

'Remus,' she said in a low voice, eyes following the matron who left their dressing room to greet another customer. 'When is the full-moon in December?'

He was lacing up the red dress at her back, gently tightening the corset. Remus caught her eye in the mirror. 'One night after the Yule Ball. Why?'

'I'll go with this red one.' Hermione decided.

She turned around when he was done, and Remus inspected her in the gown with an appreciative nod. 'Stunning. But what of the full-moon?'

'Well, Professor, I was hoping to get your name on my dance-card at least once.' She grinned at him. 'And I want to match how you'll look that night.'

Remus seemed puzzled. 'I look the same every day, Hermione. Well, except for one night a month, but that's beside the point.'

Hermione shook her head. 'Deny it all you like, but you get this really intense look in the days leading up to full-moon, especially the night before.' Hermione observed herself in the mirror. 'Everything about you just seems sharper, darker with an edge to it. Like you're reining in a storm,' she teased.

'Don't ever become a poet by trade, you'd live in penury.'

'Sirius's words, not mine.'

He shuddered. 'Pads clearly spent too long as a dog.'

They left Twilfitt and Tattings half an hour later with Hermione's gown and Remus's new dress robes. The sun had truly set by the time they made it back to Diagon Alley North Side, but before they could exit through the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione remembered something. 'Oh!'

She raced across the street into Eeylops Owl Emporium whose windows had already darkened, and came out a minute later with a silver cage in her hand.

Remus looked bewildered when she handed the sleepy little brown owl to him with a smile. 'I got her for you earlier, but didn't want to make the poor thing go shopping with us.'

'Hermione, I can't—'

'Werewolves do deserve companions.' She closed her smaller hand over his where it gripped the cage. The tiny owl blinked open her eyes, and hooted at Remus, nuzzling her downy head at one of his fingers that poked through the bars. 'See? She likes you already.'

Remus's eyes softened at the sight of the little owl; he stroked her feathers through the bars. 'I used to frighten them—at Hogwarts Owlery—they'd all flutter away whenever I wanted to send a letter. It was as though they could sense who I was deep down.'

'This one looks like she can too.' Hermione reached in to tickle the owl's cheek. The smile gracing her face slipped when the furry creature shuffled away to nuzzle into Remus's palm instead. 'And already prefers you over me—that's hardly fair!'

A laugh rumbled in Remus's chest as he set the cage to float by them, and looped an arm around her waist, a smile playing on his lips. 'Thank you, Hermione.' He brushed a thumb over her cheek. She grinned, hands pressed to his chest.

'Anytime.'

—

The Leaky Cauldron was loud and boisterous after the Quidditch match was over. Bulgaria played France and took victory; on the fuzzy screen, she could see Viktor Krum getting hoisted on his teammates shoulders as they exited the pitch into the reception hall.

But in London, the fight was far from over.

'They were red!'

'They were green!'

'I bet you fifty galleons they were red,' cried Dedalus Diggle drunkenly.

'I bet you my motorbike they were green!' yelled Sirius, sloshing the mead in his mug.

'What are you two on about?' sighed Remus, as they made their way towards the two wizards. He took a swig from Sirius's mug and grimaced. 'This is foul, Pads.'

'Then keep your dirty paws to yourself, Moony.'

'The colour of Viktor Krum's pants,' burped Dedalus.

'The what?' said Remus and Hermione in unison.

'We ran out of things to bet on.' Sirius shrugged. 'Krum had on a pair of underwear that was very visible above the waistline. But Arthur needs to get better at his tinkering because that blasted telly didn't translate colours very well.'

Hermione could feel Remus heaving another sigh, her gaze darting to Sirius's miniature motorbike that stood on the bar. Clearly he cast a Reducio to shrink it for the purpose of the bet; that bike was a beast.

She cleared her throat. 'You're both wrong. They're blue, patterned with golden snitches.'

It was Remus's turn to stare at her, aghast. 'Excuse me?'

Hermione shrugged. 'They're his lucky underwear. Viktor never goes into a match without them.'

'And how did you know this?' He asked warily, not looking entirely like he was partial to hearing her answer.

'More importantly,' said Sirius with glee in his eyes. 'How can you prove this?'

'Ready to lose your bike, Black?' she challenged.

'You're on, Granger!'

She handed her bag to Remus and stalked over to the fireplace where flames roared high in the grate. Throwing in a pinch of Floo powder, Hermione addressed: 'French National Quidditch Stadium' and quickly poked her head in. 'Viktor!—Yes, congratulations, what an incredible game! Great to see you too. Hey listen, I was wondering if you wanted to come over? Not a big deal if you can't—oh you're a star. We're at the Leaky. Yes, come on through!'

To the delight of the Leaky Cauldron's stunned patrons, she pulled Viktor Krum into the crowded pub, and soon, everybody was fighting their way in to buy him drinks.

'Congratulations, Mr. Krum!'

'Yer the best seeker the world's seen, lad!'

'Oh I simply must introduce you to Doge, he's such a fan—hey Elphias, ELPHIAS, IT'S VIKTOR KRUM!'

'Drinks are on the House, my boy!' crowed Tom the innkeeper from behind the bar.

Wide-eyed and overwhelmed by drunken Brits, Viktor turned to Hermione in the midst of being thrusted another pint. 'Vot am I doing here, Herm–own–ninny?'

She clapped him on the shoulder. 'You're here to help me settle a bet. See that man over there? That is Harry's godfather. Care for an introduction?'

She smirked knowingly as Viktor's eyes lit up. 'Certainly,' he replied eagerly.

Hermione steered him towards Sirius and Dedalus who sat at the bar with their mouths agape. 'Sirius, this is Viktor Krum. Viktor, meet Harry's godfather, Sirius Black.'

'A pleasure.'

'The pleasure is all mine, sir.' Viktor shook his hand firmly, exuding the charms of an international Quidditch star.

Dedalus nearly toppled over the stools in a rush to introduce himself. Remus steadied him, frowning between Hermione and Krum.

Sirius cleared his throat. 'Right, let's get this out of the way then. Ah… Diggle and I watched the match—fantastically played, by the way,' he rushed to add. 'And… Oh Merlin's saggy Y-Fronts, we saw your pants, alright! I thought they were green; Diggle here was sure he saw red, and Hermione insisted they were blue with golden snitches!'

Viktor turned with a glare as if to ask Hermione what the hell was wrong with her people. She threw up her hands defensively. 'I didn't start this, they did!'

'You're vorse for encouraging them!'

Remus stifled a cough that sounded too much like a snigger.

'Harry has a very high opinion of his godfather, Viktor,' she whispered conspiratorially. 'You'll do well to get in his good book.'

Viktor's dark eyes bore into hers for an incredibly heavy moment, before he gritted out, 'Fine!', and swept his Quidditch robes aside to reveal a pair of pants that was indeed very visible above the waistline.

Blue, speckled with tiny golden snitches.

Hermione grinned triumphantly at Sirius's and Dedalus Diggle's comical faces. 'Sirius, why don't you take Viktor home? Harry said he's cooking tonight; it'd be great for them to catch up, now that Viktor's in London and all.'

The Quidditch star beamed, but Harry's godfather narrowed his eyes at her. 'And are you not coming home for dinner?'

Remus chose that moment to lean over and grabbed the miniature bike from the bar, his other hand found Hermione's, squeezing it in a tight grip that signalled to her they were about to make a run for it. His owl cage fell into Sirius's lap with a thud. 'Thanks, Pads. We'll enjoy ourselves.'

Remus's laughter filled her ears as they made a mad dash for the door, with Sirius screaming after them. Remus quickly enlarged the bike to its real beastly size, tossed Hermione a spare helmet and kicked the engine into life. 'C'mon! I've always wanted to take this thing for a ride.'

Sirius burst through the door of the Leaky Cauldron with a demented cry, owl cage in hand, and Hermione quickly swung her leg over the motorbike, throwing her arms around Remus's waist. 'Go, go, GO!'

Off they launched into the night streets of London. The cool wind rushed by her cheeks, whipping her hair into messy tangles, and Hermione laughed joyously as she pressed her face against Remus's back, breathing in the fresh scent that was uniquely him, holding on tight. They sped south down Charing Cross Road, taking a sharp right past Parliament and coursed along the boundary of St James's Park, heading towards South Kensington.

A quarter of an hour later, Remus parked in front of a homely, Muggle-run Italian restaurant. He grabbed her hand once more and led Hermione inside. They placed their orders; rigatoni alla puttanesca for him and ravioli for her. Hermione told him about the time Ron tried to order a spaghetti and meatballs dish, causing that particular establishment's nonna to come running from the kitchen, screaming 'Mappazzone!' at him, wielding a dangerous-looking wooden spoon. Ron was horrified. Remus laughed.

'So what's the deal with Viktor Krum?' he finally asked.

'What do you mean?'

He gestured with his fork. 'Long-distance boyfriend?'

Hermione nearly choked on her ravioli. 'Imagine that. Viktor's gay, Remus. He's been head over heels for Harry since they met during the Triwizard Tournament.'

He blinked at her. 'I beg your pardon?'

'That's why I was introducing him to Sirius,' she shrugged. 'Viktor sodding Krum is an idiot when it comes to wooing the Boy Who Lived. You know how he invited me to Bulgaria over the summer after fourth year and it got splashed all over the news by Rita Skeeter? Well, we were going to get together and scheme how he could win over Harry. I was his confidant, we were close; I knew everything about him down to his lucky underwear.'

Remus took another bite of his food but still looked no less bewildered. 'So you're helping him secure a place in Padfoot's good graces.'

It was not a question, but Hermione answered anyway. 'Something to that effect. Harry's clueless, so Viktor's more likely to stand a chance with Sirius's backing.'

They ate in companionable silence for a while. The street outside was nice and quiet. Remus looked pensive, and Hermione fought an urge to tuck back a lock of hair that escaped its style and fell into his face. Finally, she gave in and did it anyway, and Remus's face lit up with a warm smile when he looked fondly at her. 'Are you looking forward to turning seventeen?'

Hermione nodded, swallowing her food. 'I'm excited to use magic outside of Hogwarts. It's maddening watching Sirius flick his wand at everything in Grimmauld Place when I can't do the same.'

Remus chuckled, his eyes twinkling. 'Guilty. How do you not begrudge me for it too?'

'You're lucky you're my favourite, Professor.' She stuck her tongue out at him.

'We need to stop joking about this.' Remus shook his head, but smiled nevertheless. 'Dumbledore would fire me if he figured I actually have a favourite.'

They continued eating for a while, before Hermione piped up again. 'How was it like for you, coming of age?'

'That was a good while ago, Hermione.'

'Humor me.'

Remus chewed thoughtfully. 'I shared my birth month with a lot of people at Hogwarts. It seemed as though everybody was coming of age in March. I distinctly remember that soulmates dominated much of the conversation then.'

Hermione groaned. 'I completely forgot about that.'

Remus looked at her in surprise. 'Are you not keen to discover your one true love?'

'I don't particularly care.' She waved. 'And please don't call it one true love. I still shudder thinking about how Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood woke up one morning and started snogging in the corridor when we were in third year. They detested each other.'

'I suppose it was convenient,' said Remus dryly, recalling the incident himself, 'that emotions already ran strong between the pair.'

Hermione looked up at him. 'So soulmates don't usually just start tearing each other's clothes off when both turn seventeen?'

'I'm surprised that you of all people haven't done extensive reading on this topic.'

'I was intrigued by the idea when I first arrived at Hogwarts, but then the Wood-Flint incident happened and I didn't feel particularly keen to revisit the topic. There were tongues, Remus!'

'All right, stop. I get the idea.' Remus pushed his finished plate away and ordered a tiramisu for them to share. 'No. There was a Hufflepuff-Slytherin couple from my year who shared barely any classes together since third year. They existed so entirely outside of each other's orbits that they didn't realise the pull of a soul-bond until they started working in the same department at the Ministry a decade later, and even then it was slow going. On the other hand, soulmates who were already friends felt their bonds strengthening or shifting from platonic to romantic quite immediately. Oh—' He made an odd face. 'That was exactly how Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black got together.'

'I'm not sure if I want to know about this, Remus.'

'Happened in the Great Hall too. She was in her sixth year and him in his seventh, you see.'

'Actually, do go on. I'm intrigued'

'It was something out of a Jane Austen novel,' Remus carried on, looking smug at the wide-eyed expression Hermione was wearing. 'They'd been friends since they were both children, so on the morning Narcissa turned seventeen, she dropped the jug of pumpkin juice she was pouring for Lucius, grabbed his face and kissed him. As the Great Hall fell into a hushed silence, poor Narcissa realised what she'd done and rushed from the Slytherin table. Lucius caught up with her in the Entrance Hall of course, and before the sights of God and Men, he fell to one knee and proposed to her.'

Hermione's spoon of tiramisu paused half-way to her mouth. 'Huh. I'd always thought it was an arranged affair between those two. That's surprisingly romantic.'

'It was terrifying,' argued Remus. 'I was years younger than them, and all I could think of was: 'Oh no, what if I wake up on the morning of my seventeenth birthday and it's Sirius?' I was a few months younger than him too, so it all rode on me!'

Hermione burst out laughing. 'Oh, imagine if it was Sirius,' she said dreamily. 'You'd make a handsome couple.'

'Imagine my relief when I turned seventeen and nothing happened.'

But she felt something serious in that tone. 'Remus… Have you never wanted to seek out your soulmate?'

He shook his head. 'I consider it a blessing that they're probably not on this continent. I have no desire to wander the world and seek them out. I don't think my soulmate would be particularly pleased to discover that they're bonded to a werewolf.'

Hermione's free hand gripped his fiercely. 'Nobody who has the privilege of knowing you can ever regret it, Remus.'

He smiled softly at her, threading their fingers together, and no more words were needed.

—

The night air was chilly when they finally left the restaurant, and Hermione shivered a little despite it still being summer. Immediately, she found herself wrapped in Remus's warm jacket that smelled pleasantly like him, and smiled in thanks at the man who helped her onto the back of the bike. Their ride to Hampstead Garden Suburb was a quiet and comfortable one.

The night had grown late when they turned left onto Heathgate Road where her house was. At the end of the crossroad loomed St Jude's Church. Hermione had dismounted and was waiting for Remus to climb off after her when the familiar nasally voices of tittering girls floated to their ears. She groaned in dismay, 'Merlin's arse.'

Hermione stood on the doorstep of her house, illuminated by the streetlight, while Remus was still very much hidden in the shadow. The gaggle of Muggle girls approached her with threatening steps. 'Well, well, what's the little swot been doing out so late?'

Their pasty faces were almost orange from overdone fake tan, their lips chalky, with badly bleached hair and brows drawn on like fat slugs.

'You do care; that's sweet,' said Hermione blandly, but the familiar feeling of unease was trickling down her spine. These were the same girls who picked on her and her then-too-large teeth growing up. In truth, they never really stopped, but shifted their focus to other things when her teeth were no longer an issue. Hermione didn't fancy being reminded how it felt getting pushed into cold ponds and spiky hedges whenever her barbed retorts turned their bullying physical.

One of the girls with spidery mascara blew her chewing gum, laughing obnoxiously. 'Been out with strange blokes again, Granger? Didn't know you liked taking that many at a time.'

'Rich, coming from you.' She raised a brow. 'How's dear Winston? I didn't think the hospice quite agreed with him—oh, is it Reginald? Forgive me; it's easy to lose track after a few.'

The girl snarled, and Hermione thought she could hear a choked sound coming from Remus.

'Janet told us you've got something going on with that Big Issue boy by the pub,' suggested another girl in an oily tone with a mean look in her eyes. She took a drag of her cigarette. 'Desperate to pull, aren't you, Granger? That you'd go down on some poor, homeless lad.'

'I'm not in the habit of getting scraped knees, unlike some people,' replied Hermione just as scathingly, eyeing the other girl's ripped stockings in distaste. 'Had fun tonight, did you?'

'You're not fooling anybody with that Little Miss Perfect act,' growled the first girl. 'Little bookworm like you. Bet you never got any, bet you're gagging to get some—'

Professor R. J. Lupin stepped from the shadow. He slid a familiar arm around Hermione's waist, cocking his head at the bunch of irritating chits who backed up a step. Some of them looked stunned, some looked almost hungry as their eyes raked shamelessly over him. Hermione felt her own fingers tightening possessively where they gripped Remus's shirt.

'Not giving my date any trouble are you, ladies?'

'No, sir,' said Janet, quickly.

'Good.'

With his arm around her, Remus easily leant down to press a kiss on the tip of her nose, his warm lips trailing to the height of her cheek. Hermione almost sighed into the peaceful comfort of it, feeling tension seeping out of her. He turned to the group again with an arched brow. 'What are you waiting for, a dismissal? Move along. And get that bovine-piercing checked; one could mistake you for a sick Highland Cow.' He called after them as the group scurried away.

Hermione seized the front of Remus's shirt, burying her face into his chest as she started laughing giddily. Her professor's arms tightened around her and he was chuckling too, his lips warm, pressed into Hermione's hair.

—

A/N: New chapter every Tuesday!