Loving Lupin

    "Password?"

    "Slyer," said Hermione, stepping past the Pink Lady as she strolled into her common room.

    There were only a few Gryffindors inside the common room, as mostly everyone was at supper. Hermione was starving, frankly, but she didn't want to get caught in her adult form, so she decided to wait until Harry and Ron came back. They could probably sneak something to her quite easily. Or she could even go to the kitchen and pick up some food from the house elves. They were always willing to help.

    Yes, that's what she'd do. She'd go to the kitchen. Therefor, she could talk to the house elves a bit (she still hadn't given up on S.P.E.W.) and maybe get some food as well. She stretched her legs out in front of her and stood up, yawning widely.

    "Herm!" A small, anxious voice entered her ears.

    "What?" she said irritably, turning around to face the source of the voice. She immediately saw it was Ron.

    "I brought you some Shepard's Pie," he said kindly, handing her a small, wrapped package. "I thought you might be afraid to come in the Great Hall."

    "I was," said Hermione, smiling at Ron. "Thank you."

    Harry came stumbling through the portrait after Ron.

    "Hey, Hermione, did you hear?"

    "Hear what?" asked Hermione, conjuring a fork and piercing the Shepard's Pie.

    "Professor Lupin's gone missing. No one's seen him for at least an hour."

    Hermione froze. Professor Lupin, missing? Why would he just vanish like that? Did it have something to do with her?

    "Where could he be?" exclaimed Hermione, voicing her anxious thoughts.

    Harry shrugged indifferently. Hermione could tell that he was trying to supress upset feelings by acting as if he didn't care. "Nobody knows. It's not the full moon or anything, though, so I don't get what happened. Perhaps he's just taking some time off?"

    Maybe, thought Hermione. She leaned back into the couch she was sitting on and bit her lip thoughtfully. If she were Professor Lupin, where would she go for some solitude?

    Then it hit her. The Shrieking Shack.

            * * *

    "Harry, will you just give it to me?" The older Hermione sounded a little more like her old self: exasperated and annoyed with those less mature than her.

    "But why do you want to visit Lupin so bad?" asked Harry, clutching his Invisibility Cloak in his hands. "I don't understand it."

    "We talked earlier today, okay? And I think he might be upset about something we talked about."     "We should all go, then," suggested Ron amicably. "We could have a nice little chat with him."

    "Don't be stupid, Ron," snarled Hermione. "Just give me the cloak, Harry."

    Harry stared at her in disbelief, but he seemed to have decided it was for Lupin's own good. "Here," he said tightly, wrenching the Cloak from his grasp and handing it to Hermione.     "Thanks," she smiled, whipping it around her shoulders. "I'll be back in a little bit."

    "Good luck," Ron called.

    Just as Hermione was walking through the portrait hole, she heard the soft pad of footsteps behind her. She turned around quickly to see it was only her cat, Crookshanks.

    "Crookshanks!" she gasped. "Good, you can help me get through the Whomping Willow."

    Crookshanks cocked his head curiously. Of course, Hermione thought. He can't see me; he can only hear me.

    "Follow me, Clever Crookshanks," said Hermione, walking cautiously away from her common room.

    Crookshanks sniffed the air and began following Hermione's scent.

Hermione shivered as she stepped outside. Never before had she snuck outside in the middle of the night, unless you counted the time when she, Harry, and Ron went to Hagrid's to try to stop Buckbeak's execution. But that wasn't really the middle of the night, anyway.

    Crookshanks was keeping a close watch on her-- or rather, a close sniff on her-- as Hermione wandered through the castle corriders and eventually onto the Hogwarts grounds. He was very confused; Hermione didn't often want to come with him on his latenight prowls. He continued to follow her as she tiptoed across the dewy grass to the Whomping Willow.     There Hermione pulled the cloak off from around her shoulders and shuddered violently. It was absolutely freezing outside, and without the cloak, she thought she'd go numb. She resolutely stood in front of Crookshanks, shivering and muttering to herself as the wind blew her nightgown around her ankles.

    "Crookshanks, press the knot on the Whomping Willow," Hermione said in a shaky voice.

    Crookshanks nodded, as if he could understand her, then darted out between the branches and pressed the knot on the tree. The Whomping Willow, which had been swinging its branches threateningly as they had approached, became very still. Hermione grinned at Crookshanks and began to wriggle into the gap in the roots, but Crookshanks chose not to follow. He stood guard near the tree while Hermione disappeared into the Shrieking Shack.

Hermione fell through with a small THUMP. Immediately, a loud voice pierced the quiet.

    "Who's there?"

    Professor Lupin stepped out of the shadows, his wand held in front of him as a weapon. "Show yourself!"

    Suddenly, Hermione realized that coming to see Professor Lupin wasn't such a good idea. If he had thought calling her attractive had been inappropriate, how would he feel about her coming to visit him in the middle of the night in her nightgown? Nonetheless, she tugged off the Invisibility Cloak and held it close to her chest.

    "It's me, Professor," she said in a small voice, stepping into the light of his wand.

    "Hermione!" he exclaimed, his hand going to slack and the wand rolling out of his fingers.

    Hermione picked it up, trembling, and handed it back to him. "I'm sorry I came. I shouldn't have."

    "It's all right," he said softly. "Come on in."

    She nervously stepped into the next room, where the couches and tables were bitten and scratched up. Lupin looked older than ever, as if he had taken a severe Aging Potion himself. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself and waited for him to say something, but he remained silent.

    "Professor Lupin... Why did you come here?" she asked tentatively.

    "Things have been on my mind," he replied shortly.

    "Like... what?" Hermione pressed on. As soon as the words had escaped her lips, she knew she'd been too interrogatory. Some things are better left unsaid, she thought.

    "It's just--" Lupin paused. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry," he added, seeing the crushed look on her face. "It would be... inappropriate."

    That disgusting word again, thought Hermione angrily. Everything seems to be inappropriate in his world!

    "I'm all for inappropriacy," remarked Hermione, surprising even herself with the words.

    "Are you?" An amused smile crossed Lupin's weary face. "Sit down, then."

    Hermione sank into one of the old, delapidated couches. The springs sagged under her weight, and Hermione couldn't help but feel as if the whole thing was going to collapse any second. She tried to ignore this, however, and she stared up at Lupin intently. Whatever was "inappropriate", she wanted to know.

    "Er..." Hermione waited for Lupin to say something, but he wished to remain reticent while he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he spoke.

    "I have always admired you, Miss Granger," he started out slowly. "You are a model student. But not only that, you are quite..." He seemed to choke on the words. "Beautiful, in a unique way." His hand impulsively reached over and touched a strand of her long, thick hair.

    Hermione stiffened. This wasn't at all what she had expected. Even though she didn't mind spending some time with Professor Lupin and getting to know him better, he WAS her professor, and even if she didn't look 15, she knew that she was. This isn't inappropriate, thought Hermione. This is just odd.

    "And now that you're about my age... or at least look it..." He withdrew his hand from her hair. "I feel like I'm... I don't know." He stepped away from her, his face tinged with red.

    "I understand what you mean," said Hermione softly. "But... I'm going to be changing back into a 15-year-old very soon. So any thought you had for our future... It's sort of silly to even imagine."

    Professor Lupin cleared his throat. "You're right, of course, Miss Granger."

    "I should go," she whispered, walking cautiously back in where she'd entered the Shrieking Shack and picking up the Invisibility Cloak.

    "Goodbye, Hermione," he said gently, brushing a kiss against her cheek.

    "'Bye, PROFESSOR Lupin," she replied, emphasizing the word "professor" so he understood that she was a student, and he her teacher. Nothing could ever go on between them.

    Could there?

            * * *

    "So, how was your PRIVATE chat with Remus?" teased Ron the next morning.

    Hermione gave him a sharp look and began poking around in her breakfast again. Right after seeing Professor Lupin, she'd gone straight to the Hospital Wing and gotten a deaging potion. She looked pretty much back to normal, other than her hair had oddly seemed to grow a few inches longer than it had been before.

    "What did you talk about, Herm?" asked Harry, who was in on the joke too. "You didn't go off and fall in love with him, did you?"

    "Oh, shut up, the two of you!" snapped Hermione, standing up so quickly that she knocked over her chair. "You're both disgusting!" With that, she stalked out of the Great Hall and ran into the corrider nearby, tears streaming down her face.

Why am I so sensitive? she thought unhappily, wiping her wet cheeks. They didn't say anything really bad. It's just... Hermione sighed to herself. She had been wondering the same thing as they had mentioned. Could she and Professor Lupin fall in love?

    What are you thinking, Herm? she thought wildly, holding her head. You admire him. Okay, you practically REVERE him. But you're not in love with him. Hermione shoook her head. Yes, that was it. She just admired him so much that she THOUGHT she was in love with him. That was it. Things made perfect sense if you just put them together right. Hermione smiled to herself and walked back into the Great Hall, prepared to face Ron and Harry again.

    It was all fine and dandy to tell herself that there was nothing wrong between her and Professor Lupin, but when it came to Dark Arts class that afternoon, Hermione was blushing through the whole thing. Ron and Harry kept exchanging nervous looks, while Hermione kept her face buried in a book. Lupin was explaining something about dragon hides and the toughness and their weak spots, but Hermione couldn't pay attention. She could only watch his lively face and bright eyes, and the beginnings of a beard growing on his face. Somehow, it made him seem gaunter and... almost sexier.

    After class, Hermione sped ahead of Ron and Harry, trying to get out of the classroom as quickly as possible. She hadn't slipped past Lupin, though, for she had almost made it through the door when she heard his voice.

    "Hermione?"

    She whirled around, her hair flying out behind her and smacking Dean Thomas in the face as she did so. "Oh! Sorry, Dean-- Yes, Professor Lupin?" She stressed the word professor, so he'd understand that a professor is all he would ever be to her.

    "Could I speak to you for a moment?" His eyes were fixed intently on her, and for a fleeting moment, Hermione began to wonder if it was something of importance that he had to discuss with her.

    "I'll be along in a few minutes," she told Harry and Ron. They left, their eyebrows raised in bewilderment, and their eyes sparkling with mischief. Hermione sighed. Boys could think the most awful things sometimes.

    "Yes, Professor?"

    Lupin smiled warmly at her. "No need to look so apprehensive, Hermione."

    She nodded tightly.

    "Er... I was just wondering how your deaging went. You look perfectly back to normal, other than..." His hand stretched forward as if to touch her mane of bushy brown hair, but he recoiled it suddenly. "Your hair is longer than before."

    "Madam Pompfrey said we could cut it, but I decided to keep it," said Hermione in a soft voice.

    Lupin smiled again, but this time, the smile was weak and helpless.

    "Hermione..." he breathed. "I'm... Why did you have to go prattling around in Aging Potions for?!" he exclaimed suddenly, his eyes flashing with anger.

    "I didn't do it!" she shrieked, "it was Ron and Harry! They're the ones that spilt it on my food!"

    "I can't do this," he muttered, collapsing at his desk and burying his face in his hands. "I can't do this. I'm dishonoring you as a student."

    "You're not," said Hermione in a small voice. "I mean, I'm kind of glad in a way-- I've always admired you."

    "Admiration is very different than love, Miss Granger," croaked Lupin in a muffled voice.

    Funny, thought Hermione. I'd thought the very same thing.

    "Well, what does LOVE have to do with anything?" snapped Hermione loudly, putting her hands on her hips.

    Professor Lupin stood up very suddenly and put his hands on Hermione's shoulders. She melted at his touch. It was a different touch than she'd seen in Muggle movies, or even that of Hogwarts students together. It was the touch of a man-- an older man. He leaned his face towards hers, his breath coming in as gasps.

    "Professor..." whispered Hermione.

    Professor Lupin's lips met hers tentatively. She could feel them trembling against hers; they were half-excited, half-terrifed to be imagining doing something to extroadinarily forbidden.

    An alarm went off in Hermione's head. She took her hands and pressed them firmly against Lupin's chest, giving him a powerful shove away from her.

    "NO!" she whimpered, stumbling a few steps back from him.

    Lupin's eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets. It was as if he'd just realized that he'd touched a fifteen-year-old-- that he'd kissed a fifteen-year-old-- and that he was doing the worst possible thing he could do to his prized student.

    "My goodness," he exclaimed. "Hermione! I am... I am beyond words. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry! What am I thinking? I'm so sorry, Hermione. Forgive me, please! Forgive me," he pleaded. Hermione thought he might take her hand for a moment, but he kept his fair distance.

    "Just because I LOOKED your age doesn't mean that I am, Professor Lupin," whispered Hermione. "You have to understand that. And so do I. I don't think I quite get that either. I'm only 15. And you're at least 30."

    "32," said Lupin, smiling wryly. His face suddenly went somber. "You're right, of course. You are my STUDENT. And I am your professor."

    Hermione nodded again.

    "My deepest and most sincere apologies, Hermione," said Lupin seriously, his gray eyes staring into Hermione's. "I have acted worse than I ever could have imagined. My judgement must be somewhere else today."

    "It's ok," replied Hermione in a quiet voice. "I guess I should go."

    "Yes, do." Lupin quickly turned away from her, and Hermione exited.

    What just happened there? thought Hermione incredulously. Did I really just kiss Professor Lupin? Her fingers traced over her soft lips. Yes. She really had. She had kissed Professor Lupin. And how nice it had felt! It was as if she was kissing an old friend, but at the same time, it was more-- it was a kiss of dynamic feeling, passion, and something totally undescribable..

    Hermione shut her eyes and twirled around a couple of times in the middle of the hall. Gosh, she loved him! She honestly loved him! And he had kissed her! But wait. Hermione stopped whirling around, noticing that a few students were watching her with odd expressions on their faces. He was a professor. A 32-year-old professor. And she was... Her heart sank. She was a 15-year-old student. He was more than twice her age, and he had already seemed to sworn off all love to her. Unless...

    Hermione smiled secretly to herself. She and Lupin could never be together, unless she just happened to age a few years...