Part 1.

If only he could see you now, I thought to myself. I'd like to think that Sirius would feel sorry for me, what with my wife leaving me for another man and all, but I knew better. Sirius would be having a colossal laugh at me right about now. Moony, you missed me so much you tried marrying my cousin? would be the general sentiment.

Everyone else seemed to feel very sorry for me, though. People with pitying eyes stopped by and patted me gently on the hand, asking me what they could do to help. Molly Weasley apologized profusely on behalf of her son, an apology which I simply refused to accept. Harry had let me move back into Number 12 Grimmauld Place, which was sitting vacant as of late, because Ginny Potter did not want to raise a family in a dark old manor in the middle of London. She preferred their light and airy cottage in the country. I had plenty of time to rattle around in the big empty house, seeing Sirius's ghost everywhere. Ah, there was the parlor, where Sirius had fucked me. Ah, there was the kitchen, where I had fucked Sirius. Ah, the primary bedroom, where we had taken turns.

But it wasn't just the memories of sex, of course. Those were the easiest and most fun to remember. It was the memories of Sirius, who lit up a room, who lit up the world. Everything had seemed darker after he had gone, and while I had half hoped marrying a young, spunky Auror would bring a little light back into my life, she had burned too bright for me. Where Sirius had been daring and cavalier and effortlessly handsome and not just a little bit arrogant, Nymphadora Tonks had been reckless and plucky and fiery and… too much for me. She was adorable and easy to love, and she deserved someone who loved her. Not a creaky old werewolf who had just been trying to find someone, anyone with a little bit of Sirius in them.

I sat in the sitting room, staring at the fire and wishing I had someone to talk to about everything. Someone who wouldn't look at me like I was nothing but a sad, morose old man.

And then it hit me.

I remembered our conversation more than two years ago, sitting next to each other at the Burrow before Bill and Fleur's wedding. She knew about Sirius, and the look on her face when she talked about Tonks… perhaps she had seen what everyone else was unwilling to see. Taking a deep breath, I walked up to the fireplace and threw a handful of Floo powder onto the flames.

"Number 17 Old Mill Road," I said, sticking my head into the fire to reach her at home.

The fireplace didn't start spinning just yet. Hermione Granger had a privacy filter set up on her Floo connection. It was a few moments of waiting before I felt the familiar (and disorienting) feeling of my head flying into her fire. I gazed around at the room. It was small, cozy, and very tidy. Hermione's face was in front of me with a half-smile.

"Hello, Remus,' she said brightly.

"Hermione," I replied with a smile.

There was a moment of silence, and then she cocked her head to one side, her curly hair bouncing as she did.

"Is everything all right?" she asked.

It was then that I realized I had called her.

"Oh!" I stammered. "It's… yes, it's all right. In fact, I really shouldn't even bother you- I'll just go-"

"Stop," she said, holding her hands out in front of her. "Breathe. Talk."

I took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry to impose on you like this, but I was wondering if you might be free to come by for a bit," I said quietly. "I- I'm..."

I trailed off, trying to figure out what on earth to say next, and here I couldn't help but think that Dora would have jumped in by now, but Hermione waited patiently. The comparison made my eyes sting, like a wave of despair was passing over me, and I was suddenly going to be a disembodied head in a fireplace crying.

"I'll be right there," she said quickly.

I nodded and pulled my head back, the strange sensation of once more being a fully attached human being distracting me from sadness. A minute later, the fireplace blazed up and Hermione Granger stepped out of it, patting her clothes. She looked down and saw me sitting on the floor, and she knelt beside me.

"Hey," she said gently.

It was suddenly too much, and I could no longer hold it in. I shook my head, burying my face in my hands, and tears started leaking out of their own accord. When I felt her arm wrap around my shoulders, I choked out a sob, and then suddenly, I was crying all over her shirt.

"I know," said Hermione soothingly, crouching next to me on the floor. "I'm so sorry."

I pulled back, wiping my face embarrassedly.

"That's what everyone's saying," I said. "They're all saying how sorry they are. Poor old Remus, finds himself a wife and she leaves him a year later."

"Should we not be sorry about that?" she asked.

"No," I said, burying my face in my hands again.

She sat down on the floor, folding her knees underneath her and resting a hand on my shoulder.

"What should I be sorry about?" she prodded.

I turned to look at her, her brown eyes sincere and searching. She knew. Her face broke into a gentle smile.

"Come on, let's have a drink," said Hermione.

She stood from the ground and held out a hand for me. I took it and pushed myself up, and we headed into the kitchen together. I opened a cupboard and reached for the whiskey, but I heard Hermione's horrified gasp behind me.

"Absolutely not," she laughed. "Do you have wine?"

I laughed with her and started digging for wine.

"I'm not actually sure," I said uncertainly.

Hermione reached for her wand.

"Accio Pinot Noir," she said.

There was a clinking of glass from down in the cellar and soon a dusty bottle was flying into her hand. She handed it to me to uncork. It had been a very long time since I'd had wine. The smell of it brought back nights twenty years earlier, when James and Sirius would decide to go out drinking, leaving me at home keeping Lily company with a cheap bottle of red. Sirius and I only ever drank whiskey together, and he and James only ever drank beer. Red wine was what I drank with Lily.

And, apparently, with Hermione.

"Why were you with him?" she asked as I poured her a glass.

"Hm?"

"Sirius," she said. "Why were you with Sirius? You two seemed rather… different."

I chuckled, and we sank down onto the sofa together.

"We were, in a lot of ways," I said, swirling my wine and letting its heady aroma transport me. "He was all gutsy, boisterous, and 'surely they'd never expel us for a little thing like that."

"And you?" she asked, taking a sip.

"Oh, I caused my share of trouble. In fact, some of the most exorbitant pranks we ever pulled off were my idea," I said, and I couldn't help but let a grin split my face to remember. "But I preferred the 'quiet mastermind' role."

She laughed, a little giggle like a bell tinkling, and took another sip of wine.

"I miss him," I said into my glass.

"I do, too," she said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

We sat in silence for a moment, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

"Do you want to talk about Tonks?" she ventured.

I grunted, and she laughed at me, brown eyes sparkling.

"Why were you with her?" she pressed.

I wanted to put my face in my hands again, but instead, I took a gulp of wine and looked at Hermione, who was watching me quietly. I couldn't quite keep track of her age anymore, but she must have been about 21 years old, a few years younger than Dora. Her calm patience gave her a maturity that I sometimes felt Dora lacked. I took a breath.

"You know how they say opposites attract?" I said, and she nodded. "I thought they were right. I mean, look at me and Sirius, right? I thought we were about as opposite as two blokes could be. But we weren't, really. You've got to remember, Hermione, that we were teenagers when we met. Who's the same at thirty-four as they were at seventeen?"

Hermione nodded, and once again, I half expected her to jump in, but she waited.

"I think I saw a lot of teenaged Sirius in her," I said with a shrug. "But Sirius and I grew up. Dora was just too young for me, I think."

I looked over at her, and for the first time, she had a crease in between her eyebrows, like she didn't quite believe me.

"No, not too young," I revised. "Just too different. Opposites might attract, but they don't stay together very well, do they?"

"You'll get no argument from me there," she said with a smile.

I suddenly felt a wave of guilt. Hermione had been listening to me since her third year at Hogwarts. I'd lectured her as her professor, given advice as her mentor, confided in her, and now cried all over her. And yet, I almost never asked her anything about herself.

"Ron?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Oh, Remus, I think it's the same as you and Tonks," she sighed. "Opposites attracted. I'm bookish and quiet, he's funny and loud. And with the war, it felt like we had to rush into something. Because how long would we have left?"

"I think that's why James and Lily got married so quickly," I said.

"I believe it," she said. "Ron wasn't right for me. Too brash, no emotional maturity."

Hermione paused, then added, "He was just too young for me, I think."

She winked and nudged me with her arm at that, and we both laughed. Our first glasses were almost empty, so I summoned the bottle and refilled them. My arms were tingling pleasantly from the wine in a way they never did from whiskey. Hermione was sitting on the sofa next to me. Her feet were tucked underneath her, one arm resting against the back of the couch supporting her head. She was closer to me than I'd really realized, her curls falling into her face as she looked at me, and I had the wildest momentary impulse to kiss her.

Remus, you old reprobate, said a voice in my head that sounded delightfully like Sirius's.

Part 2.

Weekly or more, after that. Hermione would come over to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and we would drink wine and talk. We got to talk about events we both experienced, filling each other in on what the other didn't know. She told me the story of saving Sirius from the Dementor's Kiss, from her perspective, and I explained what it was like to find Sirius in the Shrieking Shack that night. We talked about the Goblet of Fire and her fourth year at Hogwarts.

"Sirius and I were both about ready to strangle Dumbledore when we found out Harry was to be allowed to compete," I said.

"I can imagine," said Hermione. "Honestly, at the time, it seemed all fine and normal for Harry to be in the Triwizard Tournament, but looking back? I can't believe it."

"Yes, but we both know that Dumbledore had a habit of dangling Harry about as bait," I offered, and she nodded in agreement.

Some nights, we laughed ourselves silly. It felt good to laugh.

"Well, we Polyjuiced ourselves into Crabbe and Goyle," she was saying.

"Where did you get the Polyjuice?" I asked.

"I made it," she said.

"You were brewing Polyjuice Potion in your second year?" I asked, incredulous, but she just waved her hand dismissively.

"Yes, but I'm just getting to the good part," said Hermione. "I thought I had a hair from Millicent Bulstrode – do you remember her?"

"I think so," I said.

"But it turned out," and here, she buried her face in her hands in shame, "to be a CAT hair. I was Polyjuiced into Millicent Bulstrode's CAT."

I burst out into laughter. I loved hearing about the trouble she had got up to with Ron and Harry. She was a kindred spirit, because for all that she said she tried to keep the two boys in line, I could hear that she, too, was the quiet mastermind. In turn, I told her all the stories I could remember about Sirius and James: every hilarious prank, every funny joke, every detention. We laughed into our wine glasses until our sides hurt, each night leaning into each other a little closer than the night before.

But some nights, it was more serious.

"Tell me about getting bitten," she said quietly, sipping her wine.

I looked up at her. That was a story I had told no one but Sirius. Not even Dora knew about the night Fenrir Greyback made me a werewolf. Part of me wanted to refuse, but we'd been sharing our pasts for months, and it felt natural to tell her. The story started falling from my lips.

"I was five," I said in a voice that was practically a whisper.

"Five," she said, shaking her head in sorrow.

"Mm-hmm," I said. "My father testified against Fenrir Greyback in court. Said he deserved the death penalty for killing two children. Greyback escaped and climbed in my window that very night. I can… remember… the feel of the bite. It was on my arm, just here. You can still sort of see the scar."

I tugged up my sleeve, and Hermione peered closely at my exposed skin. I shuddered to remember it, and Hermione placed a hand on my shoulder.

"My parents tried everything, as I've said. Even today, there's no cure for lycanthropy, but back then, it was worse. No treatments, no hope. St. Mungo's even offered to… to put me down. My parents refused, so ever since that night, I've been a werewolf," I said. "A creature that most of society would just as soon see executed. I spent those first few full moons in confused terror. I really had no idea what was happening to me or why I was hurting so badly."

"It hurts?" she asked gently. Her brown eyes gazed up at my amber ones, searching me for the answer.

"Yes," I said softly. "The days leading up to the full moon hurt. It's like I can feel it coming. My bones start to ache like they're splintering."

She squeezed my shoulder. I never talked about my condition, not like this, and it felt like a release to finally explain it to someone. To finally have someone alive who knew.

"And then the transformation itself," I said. "It's… it's indescribable. Every bone in my body breaks apart and reforms. My spine lengthens, my face stretches. I've never felt the Cruciatus curse, but I honestly can't imagine it being any worse. I don't know how I withstood it as a five-year old. It's agony."

She was listening raptly.

"But truthfully, it's the mental part, the emotional part that hurts worse. The way people treat me… it's understandable of course. I don't blame them for it, but you should have heard some of the things the parents were saying when they found out a werewolf was teaching their children at Hogwarts," I said. "Dozens of calls for my death. Lucius Malfoy petitioned the Wizengamot for a public execution."

She was holding my hand now.

"And I'm not myself, you know. The night of the full moon, I'll have flashes of memories, but I lose myself. Even the day before, I'm not… I don't…" I was struggling to find the right words to explain the feeling. "Hermione, have you ever been high?"

She let out a very surprised laugh.

"High?" she asked.

"Yes, like smoked marijuana?"

"Remus!" she scolded.

"Hermione, I grew up in the 70s," I said conspiratorially, and she giggled again, that tinkling sound like a bell.

"Yes, Remus, I've been high," she admitted.

"Miss Granger!" I said, in my most professorial voice, and she laughed and rolled her eyes.

"It's like when you've smoked far too much," I continued. "Like you're staring at your hands wondering how to move them. You're not fully in control of yourself, and you're just desperate for it to be over so you can have your mind to yourself again."

She squeezed my hand and smiled at me, sympathy in her eyes. Then she batted my hand away.

"Remus, I've never been that high," she said with a wicked grin.

Telling her my stories, all of them, even the painful ones, was like a balm to my soul. She was sitting so close to me, her wild curls falling into her face. I grasped one and tucked it behind her ear. She stared up at me, lips slightly parted. Could I do it? Could I risk what I'd found?

I leaned in and kissed her. Her soft hand immediately found my unshaven cheek. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to me, and she whimpered into my mouth. It was like the dam had finally broken.

Moony, you dog.

Part 3.

If only he could see you now, I thought with a grin on my face that wouldn't leave it no matter how hard I tried. Hermione lay naked in my bed, Sirius's bed, still asleep as the morning's sunshine began to peek through the curtains. Weekly talking had become weekly kissing had become this: Hermione Granger moaning my name underneath me as I panted into her ear. Her nails dragged down my back, her ankles locked behind me, urging me forward. Merlin, that's quite an upgrade from me, you mongrel, I could hear Sirius saying.

I let my fingertips graze the smooth skin of her back, distracting myself from the beginnings of the stretching pain gnawing at my bones. She stirred, a mass of disheveled hair turning away as she peeked her eyes open at me. She smiled.

"Hey," she whispered in a scratchy, early-morning voice.

"Good morning," I said softly.

"Morning," she said.

I skimmed her bare skin with my fingers, letting them venture further down under the sheets. She was smiling with her eyes closed.

"I might have to have you again," I said.

"Again, Mr. Lupin? I had no idea you were so insatiable," said Hermione.

"Full moon tomorrow night," I offered.

She rolled onto her side and looked at me, absently tracing the scars on my chest with her finger.

"And that makes your appetite particularly voracious?" she said with a wink, but it was the wrong thing to say. Appetite. Hunger. Biting.

She noticed my sudden stiffness, my change in demeanor, and she grasped my hand.

"Hey," she said, squeezing my hand gently. "Sorry."

Her brown eyes were gentle and patient, not insistent or dismissive. Truly, I was overwhelmed with hunger for her. The full moon played its part. I rolled on top of her and kissed her neck, following a trail down to her breasts, where I had left several marks the night before. I held them in my hands, kissing each before returning to her neck.

She groaned, setting my entire body on edge. I nudged her legs apart with my knees and positioned myself between them, my erection already straining. The feeling of sliding into her was exquisite. She whined into my ear. The urge rose to be too rough, to leave bruises, to bite her neck, to hurt her, but then, the press of her hands against either side of my face brought me back to myself. She gazed at me, eyes clouded full of lust, and I pushed forward to sheathe myself fully. Her head dropped backward, and she let out a strangled cry.

"Fuck, darling, I won't last," I hissed.

"Please," Hermione begged. "Just a little longer."

My bones felt like they were splintering in anticipation of the full moon, and I felt a roar growing in the base of my throat. She was pulling me forward, her fingernails digging into my thighs, our rhythm growing erratic. I was gritting my teeth, hearing her climb toward climax, and when she finally tightened around me, I grunted, spasmed, and collapsed.

I was trembling all over as I kissed her gently, holding myself up on my elbows. She was biting her lip and smiling shyly. I pulled myself from her body slowly and rolled next to her, feeling my heart rate return to normal and once again noticing the ache of the approaching moon.

"Is it always like this before the full moon?" she asked.

I glanced over at her, her naked body divine in the morning light.

"I, er…" I began, trying to find the words. "I don't usually…"

She watched me, waiting patiently for my answer.

"I never did this with Dora, or any other woman, really," I explained. "I did with Sirius, sometimes. But he's, you know… well, he's a…"

"A man?" she said, and she had raised an eyebrow at me and was wearing a devious smile.

"Yes," I said, grinning at her. "Sirius always stayed with me during full moons. We had some wild nights…"

I trailed off.

"You probably don't want to hear about it," I said quickly.

"I don't mind," she said simply.

And so, I told her, like I told her everything. I told her about nights at Hogwarts, on the grounds during full moons. I told her about transformations with him at his uncle's flat, with me handcuffed to the radiator and him sleeping on the couch watchfully. I even told her about the sex, about the rough sex, even about the right-before-the-full-moon dangerous sex, the kind that made Sirius and I both stare at each other wide-eyed, realizing that we'd scared ourselves.

"But you never did any of that with Tonks?" she asked.

"No, never," I said, shaking my head. "She didn't understand. She thought it was just good fun, just a game. She thought it was sexy."

"It is, a bit," said Hermione with a wink, and I laughed, feeling safe with her in a way I never had with Dora.

"So, I did all my transformations alone," I said. "The morning after a transformation is… difficult. Even with Wolfsbane, there's still a lot of pain, and a lot of loneliness. It's hard to remember who I am, remember that I'm human."

We lay in bed quietly. She was tracing patterns on my chest.

"Remus?"

"Hm?"

"I'd like to be here for you the morning after," she said resolutely.

I turned to look at her.

"Really?"

She nodded. A curled an arm around her, letting her hair tickle my face.

"Thank you," I said.

"I've got to work," she said after a while, wriggling out from my grasp. "But I'll come back, all right? Tomorrow night?"

I was still grinning stupidly, and I nodded, watching her get dressed and tie her hair back in an effortless knot. She leaned over and kissed me gently before squeezing my shoulder and heading out the door.

True to her word, she came by for the full moon. I was just downing the Wolfsbane potion when my fireplace blazed to life. My mind was already feeling sluggish, so it took me a moment to fully process who she was, what she was doing here, but my arms wrapped around her instinctively. My senses were heightened at the full moon. I could smell everywhere she'd been that day, every person she'd been around. I caught a whiff of Harry, and a hint of Ron, which sent an unwelcome swoop of jealousy through me. I pulled back and looked at her face.

Her angelic smile reassured me. She stood on her toes to kiss me chastely. Hermione had a thick book in her arms, some tome on magical law, so she was ready to settle in for a long night.

"Where will you be?" she asked.

"In the…" I said, but I couldn't quite find the word. "The attic."

She nodded and kissed my cheek. I climbed the staircase to the attic and settled in, locking and charming the door shut. The rest of the evening and night were a blur, as they always were, but in the morning, I stumbled out of the door and found Hermione waiting on the floor outside.

"Good morning," she said with a kind smile.

I craved her touch, so I sat down next to her, leaning my head against her shoulder.

"You all right?" she asked, wrapped an arm around me and running a hand through my hair.

Her gentle fingers in my hair soothed me. I had forgotten how much I loved having someone there, someone I truly trusted, someone who was my match in every way. I hadn't had it since Sirius's death. Suddenly, I was not just poor, old, sad, werewolf Remus Lupin. I was loved.

"Coffee?" I whispered in a raspy voice.

She nodded and stood, holding out a hand to help me rise from the floor. We traipsed down the stairs together, and she fussed about in the kitchen preparing coffee and food while I blinked and stretched, shaking my head experimentally to lift the fog. It always took a few hours to come back to myself after the full moon, but her kindness, mixed with the devious spark in her eye, made it easier. It wasn't long before she was sitting on top of the kitchen counter, arms wrapped around my neck as I stood between her legs, nuzzling her neck. I knew that I would ever get enough of her. Finally, when the aches began to subside and my strength had returned, I lifted her bodily from the counter, earning a loud shriek of laughter, and carried her to my room.

Lovemaking after a full moon was tender and cautious, and she was patient with me. She let me caress her everywhere, finding a ticklish spot at her side and a freckle underneath her breast. She touched my face, running a finger down my nose and over my eyelashes. She let me kiss her as long as I wanted. But soon she was whispering pleas in my ear, her little gasps tickling the side of my neck. My erection strained against my trousers as she threaded her hands in my hair, kissing me softly and rocking her hips toward me. I was desperate to feel human again, to feel her again, but just as she was tugging at my belt…

"Remus?" I heard from the sitting room.

Hermione and I froze and stared at each other, our eyes wide. We both laughed and scrambled from the bed, me tucking the erection that refused to go away into my waistband. She was hopping on one foot to get into her trousers.

"Remus? Everything all right?" called the voice.

"Should I Apparate out?" whispered Hermione.

"You can't. There are wards," I said with a shrug.

There was nothing for it. I opened the door to my bedroom and stepped out to see Harry Potter, standing in the middle of the home he owned while I slunk toward him like a guilty teenager.

"Everything all right?" he asked, one black eyebrow quirked.

"Hello, Harry," said Hermione brightly as she filed out behind me.

At first, Harry just smiled absently at Hermione, ready to say good morning and hello, ask her how work was going. Then, his expression changed to puzzlement. He was glancing at the open bedroom door that she'd just walked out of. He was noticing that she was really only half dressed, and that she was now leaning against me intimately.

"What are…" he began, but he couldn't continue.

I had a "please forgive me" sort of look on my face, and she had a "yes, it's what you think it is" look on hers.

"You… you… you two…" he stammered.

He was looking rapidly from me to Hermione, who had just slid her hand into mine. A wave of possessiveness swept over me as I gripped her hand. Mine.

"Are you fucking serious?" said Harry.

"No, Harry, I'm fucking Remus," answered Hermione, her lips in a quirked smile.

I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Come on in, have a coffee," I said to him, pulling him along by the shoulders as he looked at us in bewilderment.

"I… I was just coming by because I know how you get after the full moon," said Harry. "Thought I'd keep you company…"

"Thank you," I said, pouring him a steaming cup of coffee. I handed it to him, and I half felt I should throw a blanket over his shoulders.

Hermione poured another cup for herself and sat down across from him. Harry looked up from his coffee at us.

"Er, congratulations?" he said.

"Thanks," said Hermione assertively, covering my hand with hers.

"This been going on long?" asked Harry.

"Not too long," I said, meeting Hermione's soft gaze.

Harry was nodding now, a half-smile on his face as he took measure of the situation.

"In my house?" he teased.

"In Sirius's house," I joked back.

Harry laughed.

"What do you think he'd have to say about this?" Harry said.

I leaned back, looking at Hermione with a smile. She was smart, witty, and courageous. She was protective and kind. She was deep, still, calm water, but she was confident enough to know when to make waves. Perhaps she had more in common with Sirius than I thought. I couldn't help hearing his barking laugh in my mind.

Moony, I knew it all along.

THE END.