In Love and War

"And if there's anything I can do for you--anything at all, just ask," Professor McGonagall finished.

"I will," said Hermione.

"I mean it," the older woman said. "There are some things you should not attempt to handle by yourself, and this is one of them. It's something I see time and time again among my brightest, most mature students: the belief that they alone have to shoulder their burdens. I just want to make sure you understand that you're not alone in this."

"I understand, Professor. Thank you."

Professor McGonagall had just finished one of her "little talks"--the third that day, in fact, starting with The Big Talk. Hermione had had a few of those in her life, though she had to admit that the you-are-now-a-werewolf talk made the where-babies-come-from speech look pleasant in comparison. All things considered, she had reacted to the news with surprising calm. She felt numb, flattened---out, and rather insubstantial, probably the after-effects of a high fever followed by nearly two whole days of sleep. She knew Dumbledore and McGonagall assumed that she was in shock and had not accepted the situation yet. Still, if her initial reaction--asking for any reading material that pertained to werewolves--had caught them by surprise, they had had the grace not to say anything. They were letting her rely on her usual coping method of burying herself in her studies, and she was grateful for it. At the moment she sat in bed in the "infirmary", wrapped up in blankets with a mug of hot ginger tea with honey in her hand, surrounded by books that they had had floo'd in immediately from the Hogwarts library--fortunately Madame Pince didn't seem to believe in taking holidays. It was also fortunate for Hermione that Madame Pomfrey had decided to take a vacation for the first time in twenty years and was far enough away that they wouldn't call her home for this; she was busy traveling in rural parts of Spain and Italy in order to research traditional healing methods of native witches.

Other than the fact that she had been transformed into some sort of creature that could have been taken from the pages of a horror novel, Hermione felt all right. She had gotten an array of cuts, scrapes, and bruises from the incident, but the worst of it had already been healed. Tonks kept a good supply of Rutherford's Salve for Minor Bruisings and Abrasions, saying that it came in handy after her frequent accidents, and it had taken care of most of the bruising. She was still a little sore when she moved, but nothing like she would have been had her injuries been left to run their course. She had been well cared for by McGonagall and Snape.

Ah, yes...Professor Snape. That did remain a mystery, and Hermione was almost ready to dismiss it as some sort of hallucination brought on by fever, a misfiring of synapses that had nothing whatsoever to do with reality. She had seen him frequently in the last several days, and his behavior was unchanged. He could almost have passed for a solicitous caregiver, if it weren't for the perpetual scowl on his face or the sneers he directed at her, all seeming to say, Well, if you hadn't behaved so idiotically, you wouldn't be in this mess, so don't complain to me about it. This was the Potions professor she knew and disliked, the one who blatantly favored Slytherins and punished Gryffindors, who would as soon give her extra homework and detentions as look at her. He was most definitely not the man who had carried her down the hall in the odd hours of the morning, the man who had hovered at her bedside and...touched her. Hermione found herself blushing at the thought and quickly attempted to take her thoughts elsewhere. It hadn't happened. It was a figment of her imagination--though why the hell would she imagine something like that? Ah well, it was better not to question the workings of one's subconscious--that could drive one mad easily enough.

"Hermione, have you taken in a word that I've said?" asked Professor McGonagall.

Hermione stirred and blinked. What? Oh, yes.... "Yes, I have. And I appreciate your offer. It's very generous of all of you, that you're willing to--"

"Generous? If you don't mind me saying so, that's a lot of nonsense, my dear. There isn't one person in this household who doesn't care about you. We've all been worried sick these last days--though some of us have odd ways of showing it," she said with a frown.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not everyone...Harry and Ron, of course. They might have been angry with me but they couldn't have stayed that way forever. But I'm not going to fool myself and say that I'm everyone's favorite person. Professor Snape for one..." Hermione laughed nervously, but she was annoyed at the way her voice seemed to snag on the words 'Professor Snape.'

"Mark my words, girl: everyone." Professor McGonagall leaned over and patted her on the hand. "Yes, even Severus Snape. Though it doesn't take a Legilmens to see that, now does it?"

"I don't understand..." What was she saying? Hermione began to wonder if this was still part of her feverish dreams, because it most certainly wasn't reality.

"I can't say that I understand it myself, but I'm telling you Hermione, not as your teacher, but as a woman...he cares about you."

"Me? You're joking. There's no way...there's just no way! It doesn't make any sense." Now an accompanying blush was only adding to Hermione's discomfort and she found herself squirming under McGonagall's keen gaze.

"Sense or not, it's the way things are."

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione protested.

"I'm not certain if I can explain this, but please trust me on this. I wouldn't say anything if I hadn't thought it through. I'm only telling you because I want you to be careful about how you deal with him. And I don't want you to go on thinking that he despises you. Do you understand?"

"Yes. At least, I think I do. Sort of."

"I suppose that will do for the time being." McGonagall sighed, took her glasses off and used a brief spell to polish them before putting them back on. "Right now though, I'd be more concerned about talking to Remus. It's not going to be an easy conversation. I'm sure he feels responsible for what happened to you, and I wasn't sure if he should see you yet--I thought it might be better to wait until you were further along in the healing process, but I don't think he can keep waiting much longer. He's so tense right now he has us worried, and we were hoping that maybe a visit from you would take some of the pressure off."

"I'll talk to him first thing," Hermione said, already beginning to feel anxious. Oh no, already I've gone and forgotten about how Remus must be feeling! Probably horribly right now...

"Not so fast, he's sleeping now. Perhaps you might like to take a nice hot bath first? I've more lineament for any sore muscles, but sometimes the simple things work the best. I do enjoy a hot bath myself--an indulgence I've never been able to shake, not since I was a prefect and got so spoiled using the private bathing room," she said with a smile.

Hermione had to suppress a giggle at the image of a teenaged Minerva McGonagall splashing around in a bubble bath in the prefect's bathing room. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Very well, I'll have Tonks draw one up for you in a minute. I have a few things I'll be seeing to, but give us a call if you need any assistance, all right?"

"I will."

McGonagall followed through on her word, and within a few minutes (Oh the joys of magic! Hermione rhapsodized) a tub filled with steaming water had appeared in the guest bedroom, courtesy of Tonks (as was the bottle of spilled shampoo, but that was easily cleaned up).

Hermione undressed, but before she climbed into the tub she stopped and looked at herself in the mirror, something she didn't do very often. She had the same mass of mostly-uncontrollable hair, the same face that she had always thought made her look younger than her actual age--her features were all right, she supposed, in a pleasant enough way, and it certainly helped that her front teeth were no longer so prominent. Hers wasn't a bad body, she thought as she glanced down at herself, though at the moment it was a bit worse for the wear, with the half-healed scrapes and cuts that lined her skin.

Truthfully Hermione spent most of her time ignoring her body--she fed, clothed, and took care of it, but she felt it was more like a package for herself than an actual part of her. But now...she tilted her head to one side and looked herself up and down. She wasn't sure she could just keep ignoring herself like she always had. What if...she didn't want to anymore? She ran her hands down over her skin slowly, starting at her shoulders and tracing over the outline of her ribcage, her waist, her hips, her thighs, down to her knees, shivering slightly and leaving goose bumps in the wake of her touch.

There was something else Hermione had been ignoring as much as she possibly could: the little detail that she was a now a werewolf. It was definitely strange to think about. Something in her had changed, but right now she wasn't certain she minded. She hadn't been forced to cope with any murderous rages just yet, or any of the losses of control that she had so feared. Instead it was as if some inner creature had stirred in her, awaking from a long hibernation. It still seemed fairly dormant, as if it were content to simply stay there and watch the world, observing everything around it with its animal eyes. She had also found that her sense of smell and her night vision seemed to have taken on a while dizzying new life of their own. Hermione had not yet had time to carefully test these new effects, but many of her reference materials did say that heightened perception of the senses was one of the characteristics of lycanthropy, and her personal experience seemed to corroborate this information. She wondered then what it had been like for Remus all these years--she would have to ask him about it. Perhaps there were other...side benefits to this panoply of new sensations. She felt her skin heat slightly at this idea.

Wait, what was she thinking? She half sounded as if she were glad to have turned into this...creature. Hermione shook her head and climbed into her bath. Thoughts of any complication were incompatible with a bottle of her favorite brand of fruit-scented bubble bath. She could deal with things later.

Merlin's beard, has the Wizarding world's top Potions journal decided that literacy is no longer a prerequisite for publication? Snape massaged his temples, hoping his headache would go away without a potion--he had always suffered rebound headaches after using any of the usual cures. He blamed this particular pain on the utterly incomprehensible article he had before him. Reading this article was better than teaching first year Potions classes, but only by a very slim margin. He would have given up on the damn thing ages ago if it weren't for the fact that the topic of the article was "Preventative Properties of the Wolfsbane Potion and Possible Curative Effects for Lycanthropy" and the way things had fallen out, it had suddenly become required reading.

This was not how he was supposed to be spending his holidays. He had already resigned himself to the fact that this was going to be a working vacation, and he had brought along his Potions materials to work on a little theory of his own, as Dumbledore had requested. Honestly, anyone who thought that Severus Snape didn't have a weak spot didn't know just how often he ceded to Dumbledore...

There was a soft knock on the door, and Snape made a sound of irritation. "Come in."

The door closed, and whoever it was cleared their throat softly.

"Yes?" he said without looking up.

"Professor Snape..."

He glance up and... Oh. Enter Soft Spot numero deux herself, looking flushed and still slightly damp from her bath. Her hair was piled on top of her head in some sort of knot, though her curls were doing a good job of escaping and straggling down her cheeks, but this could have been on purpose. He had no idea what sort of things women did with their hair and for all he knew this could have been the latest fashion, but this was Hermione Granger after all, so he rather doubted it.

She stood there, eyes downcast, looking shy and hesitant. This timid-seeming girl was the brassy creature who had been firing off sassy responses the last time he'd talked to her? This time, she could hardly seem to look him in the eye or put a single sentence together. In fact, now she appeared to be sneaking a glance at him and blushing.

What has gotten into her? "Is there something you wanted to say to me?" he said. "I haven't got all day you know. As a matter of fact, right now I'm working on something that directly applies to your current problem, if you don't mind."

"Oh," she said slowly. "I suppose...I suppose I just wanted to say thank you."

"For what?" She hadn't really come all this way just to thank him, had she?

Hermione was twisting one of her curls around her finger and biting her lip as she took time to answer. "Helping me."

"Did Minerva put you up to this?" he asked dryly. Perhaps it was part of whatever new mission Minerva seemed to be on, some plan to help him overcome his anti-social behavior...well, it would be a failure, he could be sure of that. To his surprise, Hermione went crimson at the mention of Minerva's name.

"No, she didn't...well, not exactly."

"I see," he said, not surprised really at Minerva's meddling, though that didn't explain the stab of disappointment that shot through him. "Well, you've done your duty and expressed your thanks. You have my permission to leave now." He waved one hand toward the door, but she didn't move. He put his papers down and turned around. What was she waiting for?

"Good bye, Miss Granger. Do I need to show you the way out?" he sneered.

"No," she said quickly, looking away. "I'll manage on my own, thanks."

"Good." His pocket watch gave a little chiming sound and he sighed. "That would also be my cue to leave. Couldn't have Remus do without his dinner after all."

"You're cooking?" she asked with a little smile on her face.

"No, Alastor is." Snape held a hand up. "And I wouldn't laugh if I were you. He hasn't won the Annual Wizards' Bake-Off thirty years in a row for nothing." He shook his head at her raised eyebrows. "And contrary to popular belief, he has not rigged the contest."

Hermione laughed out loud at this, and Snape felt inordinately pleased.

"He should be Apparating the food up in a minute...at least, I hope it's him doing the spell. The last time we tried this, Tonks did it, and we got splinched peas. Not a pretty sight...all right, step back now. Ah, here we are. All in one piece, it appears. Now, if you'll excuse me..." He picked up the tray and moved toward the door, but Hermione moved to stop him.

"Here, let me take that," she told him. "I need to talk to Lupin--I mean Remus, anyway."

Remus. Just wonderful, Severus. For once in your life you get her to smile, and she has to run off to his side within moments.... You really do have a way with women, don't you. "Are you sure you can manage?" he asked.

"I can manage just fine, thank you." She took the tray from him with a determined look on her face, apparently back to her usual feisty self.

He watched her as she left, wishing on powers he no longer believed in that this feeling of loneliness that set in wasn't permanent. I hope you know what you're doing, Hermione. Because I certainly don't know what you're trying to do.

Hermione creaked her way up the narrow, dim staircase, not entirely sure what she was doing. Remus' office was open, but his room appeared to be dark, and now she wondered if he was asleep. With that in mind, she crept across the floor as quietly as she could manage and set the tray down carefully so as not to wake him. Here she was, in his bedroom again when she really wasn't supposed to be there. What, was she starting to make a habit of this? Suddenly she felt nervous; her heart was pounding and she was about to leave when she saw movement in the dark and she was sure that he knew she was there. A moment ago she had wanted to see him, now she wanted anything but. She wanted to run and never stop running because she didn't know what she was doing, and that was not a feeling that Hermione was accustomed to. She was out of control, her body was betraying her by turning into some creature that had a will of its own that could overrule the rest of her judgment. But now Remus had seen her, and there was no way she could turn and leave. Instead she watched as he propped himself up on one arm and said "Hermione?" softly, though she saw him wince slightly at the movement.

"Careful," she said. No, don't sound fussy, Hermione! Try not to be a nag, all right? "Sorry to bother you, I was just bringing you your dinner, and um...I guess I should be going now. I'll talk to you later, when it's a better time, all right?"

"Wait," he said. "Here, why don't you sit down. We may as well talk now. Food can wait."

She glanced at his rather wan complexion and frowned. "You'd better eat something."

"I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite at the moment, but I appreciate your concern." He smiled at her, but Hermione thought that he looked sad and weary.

"All right, I'll sit down." Hermione lowered herself carefully into the chair next to his bed. "What is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I want to talk about..." He sighed, and began again, "I don't know where to start, except to say that I'm so very, very sorry for what happened. I was careless--anyone could tell me that. Not that I haven't made mistakes before, but this one was so foolish...and to hurt you, of all people, Hermione..."

"Don't say that; it's my fault!" Hermione burst out. "I was so stupid...I couldn't sleep, so I got up and went to your office without permission. I know I shouldn't have done that, but I just meant to get Hogwarts: A History because I'd left mine at school and I knew that you had a copy, and then I heard this noise and I couldn't just leave if there was something wrong, I mean, if you were hurt or something, but I wasn't thinking..." She was wringing her hands now and she looked at him desperately. "Please don't blame yourself, Remus, it's all my fault."

"Hermione. Hermione," he said, leaning forward so that he looked straight into her eyes, "don't do this to yourself, please. I'm the adult here, I'm the one who was responsible in this situation, and I failed. And if only I had to live with this mistake, it wouldn't be so bad--God knows I've made mistakes before, and I regret them, but one has to move on--but to know that you have to live with this for the rest of your life..."

His words trailed off and he just sat there, looking at her, and Hermione ached for him. She knew what she wanted then--she wanted to take away his pain, but she didn't know how. Words stuck in her throat, and she found herself saying, "Here, you should eat something. You need to keep your strength up." in a false, strained voice that sounded foreign to her ears. She rolled up her sleeves and busied herself about the room, fluffing up pillows, spreading out a napkin, and fussing with the tray of food, anything so she didn't have to look Remus in the eye. Hermione set the tray down next to him and would have continued in her flurry of nervous activity if he hadn't reached out and grabbed her wrist right then.

She couldn't suppress a wince and a small gasp of pain. His eyes went instantly to the spot where his fingers had gripped and he pulled her sleeve up to look; Hermione saw him stiffen and draw back at the sight of the red welts and scrapes.

He looked at her intently. "It was me, wasn't it."

""I--well, yes, but it's nothing really, just a scratch."

"Minerva, Albus, Severus--none of them mentioned this to me. Did I hurt you badly?"

"No. No, I'm fine."

He reached out, but hesitated before he actually touched her. "I would never intend to hurt you, Hermione. I'm so sorry. "

"It's all right, really. It's not that bad."

He sighed and continued to stare off at some place beyond her, his fingers still hovering over her skin. "I can't even remember doing it, you know. Something just comes over me, and everything I know is gone. I can't control myself any longer. I turn into this beast, this monster... I would never hurt you Hermione. You know I would rather die than hurt you."

"I know, Remus. It's not your fault." Hermione was beginning to feel slightly embarrassed now. "I--I think I'm beginning to be able to imagine how you feel. I know you wouldn't do it on purpose, so let's forget it now, please. It's not a big deal. I'll heal and get over this."

"I want to see."

Hermione stared at him, uncomprehending. "See what?"

"I want to see for myself what I did to you."

"What?--Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I can't explain...I just need to know."

"All--all right." Hermione turned away from him, facing the draped window. She unbuttoned the front of her blouse and slipped the shirt slowly off her shoulders. Behind her, she heard him inhale as he saw the crosshatching of claw marks beginning at her shoulder and stretching across her back.. Hermione felt herself blush as the thought "you're undressing for your former teacher!" crossed her mind, followed quickly by a little voice that said, "The one you've fancied since third year..."

"Turn around," Lupin said softly. "Let me see you."

She did as he said and turned to face him, noting how his eyes widened as he saw how the cuts continued on to her stomach and chest. As if something was drawing her toward him, she walked forward until she stood at the edge of the bed. Lupin put his hand out and traced the red lines, beginning at her stomach and gliding slowly upward. His hand was very close to her left breast when he froze.

"I did this," he whispered. "I did this to you."

Hermione struggled to find words to say, but instead she realized how very close their faces were. She put a finger to his lips and said, "Sssh." Without conscious or rational thought, she bent her head closer and their lips met. It was hardly a kiss, just the soft brushing together of their mouths, but it was as if a jolt of electricity shot from his lips to hers, and she instantly wanted more. Lupin withdrew quickly and turned away from her, and Hermione stood there before him, not knowing what to do, or what she had just done.

He spoke first. "I apologize. That should never have happened."

"Stop apologizing. I did it, not you."

"I was behaving inappropriately. I shouldn't have allowed anything like this to happen."

"But I--" Hermione knew what she felt now: shame, bitter and overwhelming. What were you thinking? You can't, you shouldn't--Hermione Granger would never do anything like that! But at the same time she suddenly saw what she wanted, and it was so beautifully simple she felt relief. Remus was still talking, but it hardly mattered to her what he was saying, for she knew what she had to do. She had to try, she couldn't let something this important to her be swept aside and dismissed as some kind of mistake.

"...Hermione, you're a very attractive young woman, but I can't do this."

She shook her head at this as if she were simply shaking these words away. "Why? You're not my teacher anymore and you haven't been for years! I don't care about the age difference, honestly. There are plenty of couples with an age gap--my parents for example, my father is seven years older than my mother. It happens all the time. "

"I know that, but... a woman like you and a man like me...it doesn't look good." He sensed she wanted to speak, but he silenced her with a sharp look in his eyes, and continued to talk in that same soft, reasonable voice. "Right now you might not think anything of it, but you would later. I know right now the whole world is strange and out of control, but it won't be like this forever. You're young; you don't really want an old man like me. You might think you do, but it could never work."

Remus squeezed her hand, and Hermione felt then like he was squeezing her heart. No, no, no, I can't give up so easily. I can't!

"You're not old, Remus. I told you the age thing doesn't matter to me, and I mean it."

"No Hermione, I'm not going to take advantage of you. I'm sure it's been a long day, and you've been unwell, you're probably tired. Go to bed and forget this ever happened. Please."

"You're not taking advantage of me. If anything, I'm taking advantage of you. I want this. I want you."

"You don't know what you're doing."

"But I want to find out," Hermione said. Strange how bold she felt right now, how easy it was to say these things. "Is it so terrible that I want you to kiss me right now?"

"Well...I...I can't say." He laughed then, and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Ah, Hermione, I should know better than to try and argue with you. You're too stubborn for me. I don't know what to tell you now, I think I've run out of arguments."

"Would you just kiss me then before you lose the nerve?" Hermione asked, and then she waited, heart pounding, palms sweating, her mind chanting Please do it, please do it, please please please...don't just leave me standing here!

Her fears were unfounded; Remus complied then, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her tenderly, as if at any moment she might vanish. The two of them were still laughing slightly, but Hermione quieted as he undid the hook on her bra and slipped it off, cupping her breasts in his hand. She stood before him, feeling the cool air on her skin as he kissed the partially healed cuts that crisscrossed her flesh. This the creature inside her liked, and the more she gave into these new feelings of pleasure, the more she relinquished her careful hold on it.

She grabbed onto the back of Remus' neck and clung to him, wanting to close all the distance between their bodies. Hermione crawled into the bed and lowered herself on top of him. He was kissing her more intensely now, and his hands slid around her and gripped her back. She slipped naturally into his lap, and surprised herself a little by grinding against him. She found that the less she thought about what she was doing, the easier it was to act, and the more she acted, the more she forgot that she was supposed to be Hermione Granger: Good Girl Extraordinaire, who most certainly never would find herself in a situation like this.

Though Hermione may have had her doubts, her body held no such reservations. For once, the voice in her mind that seemed to constantly narrate her entire life was incapable of conveying what was happening to her. It was all feeling; all body language of a sort she hadn't known existed. Now he was touching her, but that couldn't truly express how his touch seemed so gentle and yet so insistent at the same time, the way her skin seemed to come alive when he caressed it, the way he was kissing at her neck and then biting just enough at the hollow of her throat.... He held her tightly by the hips and in some movement too quick and subtle for Hermione to detect, he turned their bodies over, and now she lay beneath his weight. She felt almost limp with this new desire, unable to do anything but lie there and greedily touch him back, watching him as he moved over her body with his hands and his lips. She moaned when he moaned and the sound of the little growls he made in the bottom of his throat caused her to sigh and dig into the bed with her fingers and toes.

He was slipping his clothes off now and Hermione lay back on the bad and watched silently. Her pulse was thrumming in her ears and she felt a slight pang of nerves at the thought of what she was about to do. Remus gently pulled the sheet from her and kissed her, his hands finding their way down to her hips and grabbing the elastic waistband of her underwear. It all seemed to come together in a single moment. The tip of one thumb slid under, his lips were pressed lightly against her closed eyelids, her fingers were tangled in his hair and she was gasping for breath and--there was a gigantic crash from the other side of the room.

Hermione's eyes flew open. Oh no.