Chapter Text
"I trusted you," she shouted, her nostrils flaring, her face flushed. She was angry when she should have been scared, hurt when she should have been terrified. He’d known she was his; he knew the minute she boarded the train, her scent calling to him before she even entered his car, but as he stared at the bushy-haired witch glaring at him, her hazel eyes flashing, he felt something than went beyond recognition.
Pride.
For a second, he forgot he was 32-year-old werewolf and his intended, his mate, was a 13-year-old schoolgirl. He forgot he was her teacher, her confidant. He forgot his job was to protect her, to make sure she stayed safe until she was of age and old enough to accept, to understand, all he required of her, all he wanted from her. All he could do was gape at the small girl and, for a moment, feel peace. There was so much wrong with the situation, so many obstacles they'd have to overcome, but she was for him.
That's all that mattered.
"Are you crazy?!"
"No crazier than you, I suppose."
"She's only a girl, a child! She's Harry's best friend, Remus. You can't claim his best friend as your mate!"
Remus jumped to his feet, anger and frustration taking over. He pushed Sirius against the wall, his forearm pressed against his friend's neck. "Do you honestly think I asked for this? That I saw her and chose her as mine? I can't control this, Sirius. That's not how it works!" Shoving away, he paced the dark study, his movements stiff as he tried to calm the wolf inside.
"Moony …"
He shook his head angrily. Nothing Sirius said right now would help. He wasn't stupid. He knew the situation was wrong. She was a girl; an extremely bright and mature girl, but a girl nonetheless.
Sighing, he sat in an armchair, his forearms resting on his legs. He was exhausted. "I don't want her, not in the physical sense."
Sirius sat, too, sprawling on the worn leather couch in casual stance that said more about trust than words ever could. He wasn't scared of Remus, of Moony. He knew he had control, that while he would get angry, get frustrated, he wouldn't hurt him. "I don't understand. You tell me she's your mate, but you don't want her?"
"Not now. She's too young. The feelings I have for her now, it’s not love. Well, it is, but it isn’t. It’s …” He struggled to put into words what he felt. It was basic. Instinct. How did one explain something that was as natural to him as breathing? “They're protective,” he finally said. “She is the most important thing to me, Sirius. It's my job to make sure she's safe."
He sighed. "You barely know her, Remus."
"That doesn't matter. She's mine."
"Professor Lupin!" she shouted, her smile lighting up her face as she rushed forward. She ignored his outstretched hand and hugged him, her small arms tight around his waist. He returned the gesture, though not as enthusiastically, his eyes catching Sirius' over her head.
"Hermione.” He stepped back carefully when she released him. "How are you? How was your summer?"
Her smile faded a little. Remus felt the wolf inside shift, alert to the change of mood. He forced himself to stay relaxed and appear calm. "It was hard being away from everyone, from Harry. My parents took me to France for a few weeks, but they … they don't get it. I need to be here."
He nodded, understanding and fearful at the same time. She was brave, loyal; qualities he desired in the woman he'd spend the rest of his life with, but also feared. Harry was her first priority. She was his. How was he going to keep her safe?
"Where's Prof – where's Remus?" Hermione asked Sirius, looking pointedly at the empty seat at the table. It was Christmas Eve and Grimmauld Place was filled with people. Harry was there, of course, and the entire Weasley clan. Everyone was thrilled Mr. Weasley was safe after an attack at the Ministry. Hermione had planned to go home for the holidays, but Dumbledore had contacted her parents, saying recent events made travel unsafe. She missed her parents, but the thought of spending Christmas with Prof – no, Remus – made her feel … well, she couldn't explain it.
"He's on a mission," Sirius replied.
Was it her imagination or was he looking at her differently? Was he staring? Why? She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing the raven-haired wizard would focus his attention elsewhere. She liked Sirius. She's always liked Sirius, but she wasn't entirely comfortable in his presence. She sometimes felt like he was studying her, looking for something, she didn't know what, that he could use against her.
Forcing herself to nod, she ignored the quick stab of pain at the news. Remus had a mission. He was in the Order, after all – and a werewolf. If he could convince packs to join them, their numbers could help the cause. The fact that she was worried didn't mean anything. It was a dangerous time. She worried about everyone.
"Please give him my best when he returns," she said.
"Hermione!"
He was frantic, his wand casting hexes, deflecting others, as he searched for her. He knew he had to help the others, to protect Harry, but he couldn't focus, not until he knew she was all right. Where was she?
"Remus?"
He didn't hear her voice, not out loud, but inside him. He caught her scent in the chaos. She was afraid. She was hurt!
"Hermione!"
He leapt to the right, avoiding a blast of green light, his eyes on the Death Eater who had his mate cornered, her small frame pressed against the wall as she stared at Antonin Dolohov before a flash of purple light hit her small frame.
"Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted, hitting Dolohov, rushing to Hermione as she fell.
"She's going to be fine, Moony," Sirius said, his eyes wary as he studied his friend. He looked exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot, his face drawn, as he studied the pale girl in the bed. He held one of her hands in both of his. He kept one finger on her wrist, the study beat of her pulse the only thing keeping him from completely losing it.
"I was almost too late," he whispered, his voice breaking at the thought of what could have happened. As long as he lives, he'll never forget the fear that gripped him when he was contacted.
A break-in at the Ministry. Harry. His friends. Death eaters.
Hermione.
"But you weren't."
"Sirius –"
"Remus. You have to stop. You want to protect her? You want to survive this fight so you can claim her as your own?"
"Yes," he said softly, his gaze never leaving her face.
"Then you have to let go. Let go of the guilt. Let go of the fear. Let go of her. Trust that if the fates have decided she's yours, then both of you will survive to make that happen. But you can't fight and protect her at the same time."
Remus looked at his best friend, the other person he cared for most in the world. He almost lost him tonight. If Sirius hadn't turned at the right moment, Bellatrix's killing curse would have taken him.
He smirked.
"What?"
"Sometimes I wonder if you should have been a cat instead of a dog."
Sirius cocked a brow.
"Nine lives, Padfoot. If anyone has them, it's you."
Sirius grinned, some of the tension lifting from their corner of Hogwarts' infirmary. "A few less now, I wager. But I promise you, I will use as many as needed to keep Hermione safe."
"Look out!"
Hermione ducked behind the stone wall, avoiding a streak of red. Taking a deep breath, she jumped out again, her eye on the Death Eater focused on Ginny. She blocked the curse sent her way, casted a hex of her own, unaware that she was moving into a circle, her body drawn to another until she felt him against her back.
"It's me!" Remus shouted, not turning to look at the witch he knew was behind him. "Where's Harry?"
"I don't know," she cried. "I think he ran after Professor Snape!"
Remus nodded, filing away the anger at Snape's treachery for another time. "Hermione, you have to go!"
"No!"
"Don't argue! Get Ginny and the others and leave!"
"No!" she shouted, her frustration at his words empowering her to fight harder.
"You should have left," he told her. His voice was hard, but his touch was light as he murmured the healing spell, her injuries from the battle healing faster than they appeared. She stared at him; her eyes focused the sandy brown hair that fell over his face as he concentrated on his task. She wanted to push the hair back, to see his eyes, a warm green that turned amber the closer he was to the full moon. Her hand was halfway up to do so when she let it drop to her side. What was she doing? Professor Dumbledore was dead. Snape had killed him! The entire school, the Order – everyone was in mourning. Remus had screamed when he heard the news, a tortured sound she felt in her bones. She wanted to run to him, to wrap her arms around him and take away his pain.
Why was she so drawn to this man? She thought her crush would dissipate with time. Of course she was attracted to his mind, his knowledge. He remained the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor she ever had, but sometimes she’d look at him and feel … she couldn’t put it into words, but she practically craved it, whatever it was.
"I couldn't leave," she murmured.
"Why?"
"Harry needed me."
She missed the flash of anger in his eyes.
He watched her drink the potion, her movements calm, sure, as she swallowed. Moments later, Hermione was gone and another Harry appeared. He inhaled slowly, wishing there was another way they could move the real Harry to the Burrow. She was of age now. She cared for him, he knew that. He could hear how her heart beat faster when he was near, how her senses went on alert when he walked into the room. He felt the same way.
He had for years.
"Remus. You all right there, mate?"
He looked at Harry – no, George. "Right as rain."
"She's a vision, Remus."
He didn't answer, though his eyes never strayed from the witch in red as she wound her way through the crowd, her arm linked with Ron's. They came to the dance floor. The redhead said something and she laughed, pulling him forward, a mischievous look on her face. He swallowed the quick bite of jealousy that bubbled when the young wizard took her hand, placed another on her hip.
"Down, Moony," Sirius murmured, taking a sip of his firewhiskey, the one glass he allowed himself to celebrate Bill and Fleur's wedding.
Remus was sober. He volunteered to stand watch all evening, his few minutes inside the tent the first and only break he planned to take. Watching Hermione was torture. The dress hugged her curves; the swish of the skirt drew attention to her strong calves. She had tamed her hair into a low knot, exposing her neck. The wolf stirred inside him, snapping. He was tired of waiting. He wanted to take.
To bite.
To claim.
"Have you heard from them?"
Sirius looked up at Remus. The man had been pacing the study for more than an hour. It was the night before the full moon, a time when he was already on edge. Not having seen or heard from Harry – and Hermione – in months was not what he needed right now.
"If I had, you'd be the first to know."
Remus nodded. He couldn't stand this. He knew she had a mission. Harry had a mission and she had to help, but not knowing where she was, what she was doing – it was torture. His head ached. His body ached. His heart ached – for her. Everything was for her.
"It’ll end soon, Remus."
He looked over. "The war?"
Sirius nodded. "That, too."