IX

Bereft

Remus lifted his gaze from the floor when the fireplace glowed a bright green. Without barely a moment's warning, a head of shaggy black hair appeared in the fireplace, it's body arriving not a second later. Sirius Black stood in front of Remus, hands on his hips as he examined the room and the man sitting on the couch.

"No offense, Moony," Sirius began, plopping gracefully onto the armchair across from him, "but you look like shit."

"Thanks," Remus grumbled, rubbing his face and noting that he desperately needed to shave.

"Was the full moon that bad this month?" Sirius took on a more concerned tone. "Damn. I wish Dumbledore would let me come with you."

"No," Remus shook his head, still letting it rest in his hands, "it's not the full moon. At least that's not the only thing."

"What?" Sirius shifted forward, "did something happen?"

Remus let out a long, drawn out sigh. "I don't know, Padfoot," he sat up straighter, finally making eye contact with his friend, "actually, yes. Something did happen."

"And?" Sirius goaded him on. After Remus didn't give any response the Animagus let out a barking laugh. "Is it really that bad that you can't tell me? For fuck's sake, Remus, what happened?"

Remus closed his eyes tightly.

"Is it something to do with Hermione?"

"Yes."

"Moony…" Sirius began, a worried and slightly irritated inflection to his voice.

Remus brought a hand up to his forehead, rubbing his temple. "She kissed me," he mumbled at last, a hateful frown on his face, "and I kissed her back."

Sirius' eyebrows must have risen to his hairline. After a moment of silence, he fell back against the couch like he'd been shot dead right there. Remus couldn't bear to look at the man, so he focused on his shoes.

It was a long time before Sirius spoke, but when he did it was with a very out-of-place tone. "Well," the Animagus chuckled, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but… my, my, my, look how the tables have turned."

It was not a good day to provoke a werewolf, as Sirius soon learned when a mug full of scalding tea was chucked at his head. Lucky for Sirius, his reflexes were superb, and he ducked just in time, the mug shattering on the wall behind him.

"Holy fuck, Moony," Sirius breathed, holding his hands up in surrender, "it was a joke, bloody calm down!"

Remus was standing tall in front of the couch, his chest heaving and his eyes blazing. After a long pause he fell back onto the couch with a loud thump. "I'm sorry," he moaned after a moment, "it's just- I don't like comparing this to how you used to be."

Sirius' reference had been to how when they were young men he'd always hit on the girls who were at least a few years younger than him. Sirius, at the age of twenty, dated at least three girls who were barely eighteen. Although it hadn't been a very significant age difference at all, Remus always reprimanded Sirius for not trying to get a mature girl his own age.

It was true; the tables had turned.

Remus groaned.

"Look, mate," Sirius began, sitting in his chair once more and leaning forward, "I know you very well, and I've known you long enough to be able to tell when you fancy someone."

Remus groaned again. "No offense, Sirius, but that is not what I want to hear right now."

"Calm down, I'm getting there," Sirius chided, crossing his legs and whispering a quiet comment about "impatient, hormonal werewolves."

Remus was sure that the splitting headache he had could not get any worse. All he could bloody do was remember Hermione kissing him and remember kissing her back.

"I get why you're so torn up about this, Moony," Sirius began again, "to be fair, it does sound bad at first. But really – when I think about it – this makes more sense than just about anything I've ever known."

Remus stared at his friend for a long moment, not knowing quite how to react to this.

"She's legal," Sirius said, standing up from the couch and pacing the room, "and from what I've seen, she seems to understand you more than just about any living woman on the planet. You understand her, too." He turned to look at Remus, his expression unusually candid. "If you ask me, the two of you deserve each other."

"She's still my student, Sirius," Remus muttered blankly. While he appreciated hearing these words from his friend, they were not helping with the biggest problem he had right now.

Sirius shrugged. "That ends in… what? Two months?"

Remus nodded, remembering the final words Hermione had spoken to him that very morning. She graduates in two months.

"You've just got to hold back for a little while, Remus. Did you set her straight?"

"I tried to," Remus croaked out, remembering the slight hint of a crestfallen expression he'd received after speaking to her in the morning.

"Just don't hurt her," Sirius shook his head in thought, "Merlin knows Harry would probably kill you. Then Ron, then Molly, then Arthur, then just about every other Weasley, then-"

"Enough," Remus cut his friend off with a pointed look.

"Okay, what I'm trying to say is that you've got to keep your distance, but don't pull away too much. She still needs your help."

Sirius was in a surprisingly rational mood. Perhaps it was the shattered mug that had put him into such a receptive state of mind.

"And if Albus finds out?" Remus mumbled, a sour expression on his face.

"Dumbledore can't do shit about it. He needs you here at Hogwarts, so it's not like he can fire you. Besides, only sex or sexual relationships between a teacher and student are forbidden. You didn't have sex with her, nor are you in a relationship." Sirius crossed his arms, "don't worry, mate, if it comes to a duel, I'll back you up. Then you and Hermione can run off to another country or something. Maybe Spain. Everyone runs off to Spain. Then they'll write a book about you one day: Werewolf Lovers in Spain."

"Don't make me throw something else at you, Sirius," Remus growled warningly.

"Okay, okay," Sirius said placatingly, "I'm just trying to show you that it's honestly not as dramatic as you're making it out to be. Don't worry, Moony, soon things will go back to normal. Hermione knows that she wasn't supposed to kiss you, and she won't do it again. It'll be fine."

Remus had always thought Sirius had a much too relaxed view of life and it's consequences. Sirius, on the other hand, had always thought Remus had a much too uptight view. At this moment, Remus almost wished he could trade with Sirius, if only to not undergo this inner turmoil any longer.

"Alright," Sirius sighed, "I can see that my efforts at consoling you aren't getting me anywhere." The Animagus stood and started towards the Floo, "I'll be right back with the Firewhisky. Meanwhile, you can clean up the mess from that little temper tantrum." Sirius said these final words with a pointed finger at the shattered remains of the mug, spilled tea coating the floor and walls around it. Before Remus could say or do anything else, Sirius disappeared into the flames.

His shoulders hunched and his hand rubbing his forehead, Remus sat in contemplative silence. He didn't have any classes tomorrow morning, and alcohol did sometimes help with the recovery after a full moon.

Yes, Remus decided, I can get drunk tonight.

The Gryffindor Common Room buzzed with chatter as most of the resident Gryffindors settled in for the evening. Hermione sat beside Harry and Ginny on the couch in front of the fireplace. It had long ago become labeled "their couch" and most of the other students stayed away from the area when it came to about this time in the evening.

Harry and Ron were excitedly talking about Quidditch. Apparently, the upcoming final against Hufflepuff was looking to be an easy win. "Matthews says that Summerby shattered his hand," Ron buzzed, an excited grin on his face. "Even with everything Madam Pomfrey could do he's not back to the usual standards."

Harry nodded in contemplation.

"Don't you see what this means, mate?" Ron cheered, "their Seeker will be in no shape to catch the snitch at the final. We'll win for sure!"

"The final is still a long way away, Ron," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"It's good news anyway," Ron huffed, settling back into his chair.

Harry and Ron continued discussing strategy while Ginny turned to Hermione. "It's good to have you back here," she murmured quietly, "I've been starting to get really sick of having nothing but boys for company."

Hermione smiled, watching the fire absently. It reminded her of the fire in Remus' rooms. She doubted she would be able to visit him again after what happened. "Well," she sighed, realizing that she'd gone too long without responding to Ginny, "you know how it is with these N.E.W.T.s. I just wish the boys would join me for revising…"

"They will eventually," Ginny glanced over at the pair of them. Ron had enchanted his Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to float in the air. It was a strange formation that Hermione assumed was supposed to represent the players on a Quidditch pitch.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Ginny asked, "You still look a little pale."

Hermione glanced at her friend, trying to plaster on her best "Nothing's Wrong" smile. "I think I've had a rotten couple of months in terms of my immune system. It's nothing serious, I'm sure."

Ginny's worried look didn't completely die out, but she focused her attention on other things. Hermione let out a small breath. It was really getting hard to hide the whole Werewolf thing. She was starting to wonder if there was really even a point in hiding it at all anymore. Before she'd not wanted Harry, Ron, and Ginny to know because she knew Remus would feel ostracized by them and she'd been especially worried about how Ron would react. Plus, there had been the question over what would happen if either Ron or Ginny let it slip to their Mum or one of their other family members. She knew that they were both capable of keeping a secret like this, but the Weasley family was a different kind, and she'd experienced many instances of secrets getting out very easily when the family was together.

Hermione wondered whether these were valid reasons to keep it a secret anymore. Everyone had to find out eventually, and Remus' feelings of guilt weren't a huge concerning factor since he'd spoken to Sirius. In reality, it would be much wiser to tell them about her Lycanthropy as soon as possible, but Hermione just couldn't. She knew that they would all be outraged with her for keeping it so long, but she couldn't think of a time that would be right to tell them. When and under what circumstances do you tell your closest friends that you were captured by their arch-enemy's father and brought into the Forbidden Forest with their Werewolf DADA Professor only to be infected by said Professor when the assassination attempt fell through?

"You know," Ginny hummed in thought, eyeing Hermione closely, "there's something else that looks different about you…"

"There is?" Hermione feigned ignorance, looking down at herself and shrugging.

"I don't know…" Ginny looked Hermione up and down. "Have you been eating differently or something? Maybe it's that."

Yes, I have most definitely been eating differently. Along with running several times a month for hours on end and transforming into a werewolf every few weeks.

Hermione kept these thoughts inside her mind. "I suppose it's the sickness. It's made it harder to eat some foods without getting nauseous." It was half true; the increased sense of smell around the full moon deterred her from a few of the more pungent food options Hogwarts had to offer.

Although she pretended not to know what Ginny was talking about, Hermione knew exactly what the girl meant. Only a few nights ago after getting out of the bath she'd caught a quick glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror and had to do a double take. Her body had transformed noticeably in the past few months. The remaining scarring on her shoulder and the bite mark on her lower calf were one thing, but the change in her body shape was something else entirely. She was leaner and more muscular now. It was easy to tell why Remus had the body type he did after so many years of this lifestyle.

"Well, you look good," Ginny observed, leaning back and joining in on Harry and Ron's conversation, which had now moved to talk about how excited Harry was that Sirius had promised to come to the Quidditch final and then sneak into the castle to spend some time with Harry afterwards.

Hermione had trouble rejoining the conversation; her thoughts strayed on that encounter with her reflection in the mirror a few days ago. She'd stared at herself for nearly half an hour, trying to become accustomed to the changes that she'd failed to notice so far. Eventually, her eyes traveled to the scars. Her shoulder was healed, but it had left behind several raised white lines of scar tissue in its wake. The bite mark on her leg was pretty much the same story. Hermione knew it would never heal, but she still wished it would. She wished that it could go away not for her own sake, but because she wanted Remus to see that the damage he'd done was healed.

Thoughts of Remus brought her, as they always did, to the memory of their kiss. She picked up her hand, her fingertips brushing against her lips absently as she remembered the feeling of his fervent kissing. It was a blissful memory, but it also made Hermione quite disconsolate. Remus had been more distant than ever since the kiss. The guilt over what they had done obviously weighed heavily on him, as did every other bloody thing associated with her. She wondered if their relationship could recover from this. Hermione regretted allowing herself to lose control and kiss him in the first place, and knowing Remus, he probably regretted it too.

Maybe we just need to pretend it never happened. Just forget about it.

Her mind decided that this was a good enough plan for now, so Hermione pushed thoughts of Remus out of her mind and rejoined the conversation with her friends.

Hermione's research into the Wolfsbane had moved onto a new stage and she felt that she had learned all she could from the books Snape had given her. They had some very intriguing theories about the anatomy of the brain and how some other potions had an effect specifically on the frontal lobe. None of the research so far had disagreed with anything Hermione theorized about the potion, and she hoped that this meant her initial plan wasn't too far-fetched.

On the weekend that Hermione finished the last of Professor Snape's books, she decided that it was time to go to him again. So, on that Sunday morning she made the trek to his office, her bag magically lightened to decrease the daunting weight of the books. In her mind was a delicate and meticulously thought-out plan of what she was going to say to Professor Snape.

Luckily, Draco Malfoy was not in his office this time. Hermione entered after knocking a couple times, approached his desk, and retrieved the books from her bag. "I finished them, sir."

Snape looked up from a strange book he'd been reading, evidently intrigued. With a flick of his wand the books were floating from her hands and back to the shelves. "And how did you find them?" he asked neutrally.

"They were actually very interesting. I think most of the theories agree with mine."

"So you still believe this is possible?" She couldn't tell if his tone was one of mild amusement or bland indifference.

She shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but I was hoping to take my research further and find out. That's half the reason I'm here, actually." She took a deep breath, preparing for him to reject her, "I wondered if it would be possible for me to use the lab in your classroom to test some theories out. I promise that I won't be a bother, and I'd only use it for a few hours after classes are over."

He didn't say anything for a long moment. "You do realize that I would be required to supervise you? Students are not allowed to brew in my dungeons without supervision."

"I know," she started playing with the hem of her shirtsleeve, "but I'm hardly the kind of student that needs supervision. You wouldn't necessarily have to be in the classroom watching me. If you were in here," she gestured to his office, "or somewhere else nearby I'm sure that I could find you if I needed help."

His expression was something of a frown, but his words came out much kinder than she'd expected. "You may use the classroom," he intoned, "but only after classes are out for the day and only so long as you use all your own ingredients and supplies to brew. If you need ingredients specific to the Wolfsbane potion you may ask me for them, but I reserve the right to reject your request."

Hermione beamed, "Of course, Professor, thank you so much." She felt like she could hug him, but, knowing Professor Snape, that was probably a terrible idea.

He held up a hand to stop her from any more celebration, "I would like to inform you that I am doing this not because I believe this theory is any stronger now than I did before, but merely because I know that your insight into a werewolf's condition might aid you to actually make some sort of advancement. If you don't, and this whole theory fails, perhaps it will lower your overbearing Gryffindor pride to the level of a normal person."

His words were biting, but she could see the true meaning behind them; he believed in her. She knew she was reading too far into it, but it sounded a lot like Professor Snape was saying that out of all the people who could set out on this sort of project, he believed that she was one of the few who could come out with results. Even if that wasn't what he meant, she would take his snarky attitude any day if only to get the chance to test out her theories and work in a proper lab.

"Thank you, sir, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this opportunity."

He waved his hand, "I have work to do, Miss Granger. You may begin your research on Monday afternoon."

She nodded once more, backing out of the office and nearly leaping for joy once she was in the empty dungeon corridor.

"Hermione."

"…Hermione!"

Hermione picked her head up from the parchment that she was furiously scrawling notes on, looking at Harry with irritation. "What?" she whispered, chancing a quick glance at Remus to make sure he wasn't looking their way. Remus was deeply engaged in the lecture he was giving to the class.

He leaned closer, his eyes traveling across the room to where most of the Slytherins sat. "Look at Malfoy."

Hermione did so begrudgingly. Draco sat at a table alone. Most of his friends sat in the rows in front of him. Even Blaise Zabini, whom he'd usually sat next to in all classes before, was now sitting with Pansy Parkinson. She wondered why Zabini would not want to sit with Draco anymore, but then she realized that she probably knew why.

"He looks sick, right?" Harry asked, still whispering. "Do you think something's happened?"

Harry was right. Draco looked pale and exhausted, like he could barely keep up with Remus' lecture. Defense Against the Dark Arts had never been a difficult class for Draco so that was strange enough on it's own.

"It's probably none of our business, Harry," she replied coolly, returning her attention to the lecture. But she couldn't concentrate on the lecture, and it wasn't even because of Draco or the fact that Harry was still blatantly staring. The main reason she couldn't pay attention was because this was Remus' class and whenever she even looked at him anymore she was just reminded of the kiss and everything she'd messed up by instigating it. Plus, there was always the distraction caused by Ron and Lavender, who were currently sitting directly in front of Harry, holding hands under the desk and passing notes.

She shook the stray thoughts out of her head, realizing that the class was almost over and she needed to at least take some notes from Remus' lecture.

"But, as you all know, it's nearly impossible to properly utilize a Mobile Ward against a well-executed Unforgivable Curse," Remus spoke with ease, leaning up against the front of his desk and gesturing towards the enchanted chalkboard behind him. Listed on it were several basic facts about Mobile Wards.

Her attention still couldn't stay on the lecture. Just looking at Remus was enough to set her mind off on a great, exhausting tangent. She watched him closely, trying to pinpoint exactly why she'd barely stopped thinking about him for weeks. Perhaps it was just the Lycanthropy. Hermione frowned. She didn't want to only pin this on her becoming a werewolf. It felt like it was more than that. She wanted it to be more than just that.

He really was quite handsome. Despite the scarring and the tired features he had the sort of looks that she could tell were very endearing when he'd been younger. They still were endearing to Hermione, and, as she suspected, many other girls. In fact, Hermione recalled passing by some younger Ravenclaw girls just that morning who were talking mooning over Professor Lupin. They'd all had obvious crushes on him. Remus was simply easy to like, always kind and attentive. He made every student – every person – feel special and appreciated.

The more Hermione thought about it, the more she missed being able to go to his rooms and talk to him. It had lasted for a little less than a month, and she missed that month dearly. She wished she could talk to him about menial things again. She wanted to tell him about Harry and Ron and what they were getting up to. She wanted to tell him about how her research was going again. He didn't even know that she'd begun experimenting in Snape's lab.

A tap on her shoulder drew Hermione away from these thoughts. Harry was looking at her very oddly. "Are you okay?" he whispered, glancing at Remus and then back at her.

Hermione internally cringed. She'd been staring like a lovesick child. On the bright side, though, at least it appeared that Harry was the only one to spot it. "Yeah," she breathed, "I'm fine. Just thinking about the lecture."

Harry nodded warily. Hermione turned back towards Remus, only to find that his eyes were trained on her. She cursed herself for not remembering that Remus had the same enhanced hearing she did and had probably heard their whole conversation. He continued on with the lecture a second later, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. Hermione made a promise to herself right then and there to be much more careful around Harry and the others. There had been far too many close calls as of late.

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the wonderful response on the last chapter! I knew people would like the kiss, but I was absolutely floored at all the positive responses I received.

In other news… That last line was a bit of foreshadowing. The next chapter is a really, really big one. Any guesses on what's going to happen?