A/N: Hello lovely people. Thanks for the positive feedback on the first part. It means a lot!

WARNING: None as of yet.

Prompt words:

"Fenrir Greyback, "Are you supposed to be Little Red Riding Hood?", Hermione Granger, "I'm the Big Bad Wolf."

#betalove: not beta-ed yet.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

"I thought you wouldn't come home tonight. Found a nice dog to take for a walk?" Hermione jumped in shock before she realized who exactly made that comment.

"I'm tired of your cheap puns, you know." The owner of the flat replied and took off her boots, casting the intruder a meaningful look.

"No, dear, you love them." The visitor narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, I see what happened. You found him." The girl leaned back against the counter behind her. The other witch sighed, restoring her wand into the sheet at her thigh.

"Luna, how often do I need to tell you to give me a warning before you decide to visit." The blonde woman raised an eyebrow at the tiredness creeping into her friend. She didn't answer for a moment and decided to wait for her to sit down. Hermione didn't look her 23 years - as if her last mission had added fifty years to that. Luna swished her wand.

"I would have thought your heightened sense would have helped you with that." She observed airily and turned around to find cups, a pot and tea. She raised an eyebrow when she came across a half-full bottle of firewhiskey and in a spur of the moment kind of decision put it onto the counter as well.

"I…" Hermione sighed and brushed her hair back from her face.

"I've a lot on my mind." She finally gave back and slumped forward, her chin placed on her arms laying on the small kitchen table. Luna nodded as if she already expected that answer.

"I bet. Tell me?" The blonde witch coaxed softly and took the now heated water to finish preparing the tea.

"Don't you already know?" Hermione jibed aggressively. It seemed to roll off of Luna and the older witch sighed.

"Sorry," she mumbled and leaned back in her chair, massaging her aching eyes. She couldn't remember when she had the last full night of sleep. Probably before her deputy messaged her that they had found Greyback.

"They captured him and put him in a high security cell. Or what they think high security means." She scoffed and shared an amused glance with her friend.

"His pack…" Hermione swallowed, fighting against the tears gathering in her eyes and lost a moment later when they trailed down her cheeks. She brushed them away angrily but stayed silent because she couldn't trust her voice. Eyes fixed on her hands, she berated herself for not thinking her whole plan through. That so many of them were dead was her fault, she knew. There were no rose colored fantasies of the whole thing being an accident softening the guilt.

"I'm sorry." Luna replied and pressed a hot cup of tea into her friend's hands. Hermione sniffed at it and gulped a large amount down, not caring that it burned her tongue and throat.

"I can image what you must be feeling right now." The blonde woman continued and took a tentative sip of her own tea. Hermione fixed her with narrowed eyes, a sneer pulling at her mouth. When she spoke, her voice was a growl, biting and aiming to hurt.

"No, you don't. You don't know how it feels to lose someone you didn't even know you had. And I wasn't even aware that they were dead before Simmons told me about it. I couldn't feel them being gone. So don't pretend as if you know how it feels to lose family." The silence following her outburst was deafening. Hermione watched fascinated how the angelic face of her best friend slowly transformed into something beastly, dangerous. Her own wolf was preparing to fight, but she kept her down, kept her instincts at bay reacting to the danger. The look Luna was giving her was enough for Hermione to understand her mistake. She fell into herself, sagging forward and clenched her eyes close.

"I'm sorry…" She mumbled and hoped that her submissiveness would appeal to the other witch.

"You apologies an awful lot this evening." Luna began, airily as ever but with an edge to it that spoke of blood spilled and dead bodies. Hermione couldn't meet her eyes because they were lifted to the ceiling of her kitchen.

"Maybe, Hermione, you should get yourself under control and think straight again. Stupidity doesn't suit you, you know." With that last sentence her eerie eyes settled on the she-wolf in front of her. An elegant eyebrow was raised, challenging Hermione. The latter nodded and took another mouthful of tea and firewhiskey before she spoke again.

"Alright." She finally said and leaned back again. She felt better than, lighter. The firewhiskey was helping. What really changed her view though, were Luna's words. She tasted them on her tongue, let them run through her head and could get herself back in the game. She had a mission to plan.

"I need to get him out of there. I don't think he'll survive more than a few days." The truth tasted bitter on her tongue, made her anger curl in her stomach. Luna weighed her head from one side to the other.

"He's strong. He'll survive longer than you think." Hermione shook her head. She knew she wasn't objective enough, her emotions in turmoil since she saw him for the first time after her accident in the lab.

"I don't think he will… if not the experiment than an Auror. You know how they curse and ask later. And there are a lot of them out there that just want to kill him. I even heard of a bet going on…" Her voice trailed off, infusing the atmosphere in her small kitchen with tension that made her sweat.

"He's strong. And too important. It would raise too many curious questions about his death. Not something that the Ministry can handle at the moment. The public already questions their integrity when it comes to dealing out fair punishment. Corruption some say." Hermione snorted at that and raised her cup.

"Thanks to you and your father, you need to add." Luna answered her salute with a small smile.

"We only deliver what the public ought to know." Both witches smirked. It soon fell from Hermione's face though.

"I think I have to go with plan b." She finally said, her words followed by a heavy sigh.

"Oh, but we love plan b." Luna quipped, her eyes glinting with amusement. They both hated plan b. With vengeance. It always ended in one of them being wounded or nearly discovered. Though the thought of Harry finding out who was behind the freeing of the centaurs would give them both a laugh at his face, the memory of it still was too fresh. Hermione nearly lost the blonde witch and all because of going with a plan b.

"It wasn't your fault." Luna cautioned softly. Hermione shook her head, stood up and refilled both of their cups with a bit tea and too much firewhiskey.

"It was." She narrowed her eyes when Luna wanted to object to that.

"Stop that. We both know it was." The blonde witch sighed and shrugged, the only way she would ever show that she gives in. Hermione leaned back against the counter, crossing her legs at her ankles.

"So, what does plan b entail?" The younger woman inquired, intelligence that she often hid behind her quirkiness and talk about strange creatures shining in her eyes.

"Remus." Hermione just mumbled and closed her eyes at Luna's surprised expression.

"Well, I can see now why we hate plan b." She giggled only to fall silent at the growl emitted from the woman across from her. The blonde pressed a hand to her mouth to stop herself but mirth was dancing in her eyes. The she-wolf only rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, dear." She muttered under her breath and carefully crossed her arms, mindful of the half-full cup of tea in her hand.

"Oh, I'm confident that you'll make it work." A warm smile played around the younger witch's mouth and Hermione snorted.

"Yeah… probably." She answered evasively and fixed a peck of dirt on her tiled floor with an intense stare.

"What makes you worry it won't work?" Hermione snorted at that.

"Apart from using the one wolf who still has a lot of work to do to finally understand the concept of a pack?" Luna nodded seriously, electing another snort from Hermione. She frowned afterwards, worry creeping into her bones. Her wolf whined, piercing the witch's heart.

"It could go so, so wrong, Luna. The distraction…" She avoided Luna's eyes, the all knowing look she gave her too much.

"You plan to use a decoy." The blonde witch concluded and waited for her friend to continue. When she didn't, Luna raised an elegant eyebrow.

"Oh, but not any decoy. You plan to free someone else as well." The hopefulness in her voice made Hermione cringe. She couldn't deal with expectations. Not anymore when her own were high enough to give high blood pressure.

"How is your penpal, by the way?" The witch tried to elevate the tension clinging to her body, the panic lurking in her mind. She wasn't stupid enough to think that all would go well.

"Oh, peachy, I would say." Luna replied curtly, but the happy glint in her eyes betrayed her.

"Mhmm." Hermione softly replied and gulped down the last of her beverage. The blonde witch shook her head no when Hermione wanted to give her a refill of firewhiskey as well.

"You should probably tone down a bit on this." She advised seriously with a nod of her head towards the now empty bottle only to get a shrug in response.

"Just enjoying the advantages of a high metabolism." Hermione claimed airily.

"Keep telling yourself that." Her response was a childishly stuck out tongue.

"Yep, there's the other reason why plan b seems never to run smoothly. Your headstrong attitude." She ducked with a laugh when the cup came sailing for her head. Luna swished her wand and it repaired itself. Afterwards it sailed into the sink to wait for the cleaning spell with the rest of the cutlery.

Both witches were deep in thought. As was their habit they slowly made their way into the living room and cuddled together on the couch. With a hand wave Hermione started a fire in the hearth. The dancing flames hypnotized her enough to forget for a moment the burdens she carried.

She forgot about the fallout between Harry, Ron and herself when she finally discovered what power had done to their minds. She forgot that living in England meant hiding herself - beliefs, morals and nature. She forgot that freeing Fenrir could mean her death and that of her accomplices. She forgot that Luna's life was on the line and that of her mate.

What she couldn't forgot though, was her body's reaction to all of this. The lack of sleep, her lacking appetite and the constant headache.

Moments like these helped her, though. She couldn't even image what would have happened to her after everything crumbled down without Luna being around. Terrified she shied away from that thought.

"Will you tell me what will happen now?" Luna requested softly, her hand intertwined with Hermione's. The latter didn't need to think long to decide that full honesty would be the best way and started to talk.

Her back was pressed against the cold stone wall behind her. In the last hour only a few passersby disturbed her concentration on the one lit window that was of any interest in the run-down neighborhood.

Hermione had talked to Luna for a few hours. They had finalized the plan, thought of anything that could and probably would go wrong and thought of maneuvers that could help when - not if - bad came to worse. In addition the she-wolf had run some equations, the results neither reassuring nor satisfying. But there was no other way. Both witches were sure about that.

And they weren't the brightest witch of their age and a former Ravenclaw because of nothing. Their intelligence moved mountains in the past. Maybe it would bury them both under their past mistakes now.

But she wouldn't think of that. She couldn't. One fact was for sure: She had to free Greyback. A bit ironic both witches could agree that Hermione would turn into his packmate. While she chewed on that last thought, the light in the window she had observed for the last two hours turned off.

Finally, she sighed to herself, couldn't suppress the happy shudder running through her. For her wolf this was like a hunt. Not for food, but for something else. And it excited her. Filled Hermione's veins with adrenaline and made her eyes bright with lust. Lust for the hunt, for the prey and the feeling of victory.

She would wait only a few moments longer - half an hour at the maximum, she told herself. He would be too tired and still too sleepy to realize what was going on. At least that was what she was counting on. Knowing her target as well as she did, she tried to use it against him now. There should be a niggling thought of doubt in the back of her mind, her consciousness telling her that she was betraying their friendship right then and there. But the curse - she herself didn't see it like that - had changed a lot of things about her.

Her loyalty grew into something fierce, dangerous even, her understanding of this world, the black-and-white-mentality she carried as a badge more primitive. Her new bone-deep knowledge about ties - family, friendship, enemies - made her cold and calculating to some degree as well and aware that she once gave her love far too freely. There were moments when she missed her old self. It was easier to live as she did before the betrayal and then her accident changed her.

She shook her head and glanced to the watch she put around her wrist. It was time, she knew and her wolf mentally barked in excitement.

An animalistic smirk pulled at her lips. The hunt had begun.

With concentration he calmed his breath, wanted to trick his body into sleep. Something told him it wouldn't work. It didn't in the last couple of nights. The rest he did catch was due to his body and mind giving out on him. It wasn't restful - not like sleep normally is - but it restored his reserves enough to function through the day.

He had to call work, though. And Andromeda was taking care of Teddy. Sometimes Remus thought that the universe or Merlin or magic itself was punishing him for sins in another life. He imagined that that other life would have to be filled with blood and gore and crimes too disturbing to even think about.

Why else, he would ask himself, was he a werewolf and a single parent? For a time, after Dora died, he searched answers in the three biggest cults - not cults, religions he reminded himself. A priest told him that god was testing him. Testing his belief. Remus could only leave after such nonsense. He didn't visit the church again. The other two didn't help as well because their answers weren't too different. Trials and pain to test his strong belief in a bigger entity. He snorted.

And sighed a second later when he understood that sleep was an elusive bitch again. She wouldn't bless him. Not even when he offered calming tea or sleeping draught - he remembered his times with the wolves and how they had snorted at that. He later made the connection: his high metabolism wouldn't give the potion time to function correctly. He theorized that that was the reason why other potions didn't work as well or needed to be of high quality and concentration to even show any effect.

He turned around again and cursed at the sheets tangled with his limbs. Impatient and tired he pushed them away and heard them falling to the floor. The cold temperatures didn't bother him, exposure did. Even alone and in the dark he was uncomfortable with his own body - the scars, the grey peppering his hair, his malnourished body. Age and the strain of the transformation made him look like a ninety year old wizard instead of a man barely in his forties.

Remus grabbed his pillow and pressed it down on the left side of his head. Maybe his blocked out senses took up noises he didn't care to acknowledge but his subconsciousness used to keep him awake. It sounded like a far-fetched explanation. Sighing he clenched his eyes shut.

Normally he prided himself to be logical - apart from his stubborn Gryffindor streak. Logically he knew that not accepting his wolf, not accommodating its needs was the sole reason for his poor shape, for his lacking sleep. He read enough about it, talked about it with many scholars and other werewolves. But it didn't mean that he could accept it. It didn't mean that he didn't try to come up with any other explanation.

Remus did take time, though, to explore this route. Not for long and not thoroughly like he would generally do. His conclusion was a tricky thing to contemplate because it shook the foundations of the man Remus Lupin himself. When he was especially desperate - like he now was - it seemed like the only reasoning he had left.

And in those moments the thoughts would come back. That he was alone when he transformed, caged at the age of four. That his parents wouldn't look at him even days later when his screams and growls kept them awake on the night of the full moon. How his mother wilted away because of the pain it seemed to cause her that her son was now a werewolf.

In those moments he couldn't ignore that being a werewolf only meant negative things for him. Desperation. Fear. Loneliness. Aggression.

Maybe, he would think then, if Greyback had taken him - like werewolf packs use to do - he would have grown up a wolf. Had had a pack and the right socialisation. And a part of him wished for that. The wolf part, he called it.

The huger part though, couldn't even imagine not visiting Hogwarts and meeting the best friends he could ever wish for. The same part would sneer at his naive thoughts. Being raised by Greyback would have meant more blood than his soul could cope with, murder, inflicting children out of pure malice. At least it would gather these images from stories he'd heard over the years - from Dumbledore or whispers in the darker parts of Diagon Alley or even Knockturn Alley.

He sighed and pressed his face into a cooler part of his pillow. All in all the wolf meant pain. And he was bent on ignoring it. If he could he would have cast any spell - no matter how dangerous - to kill that beast inside of him.

Hermione lost a lot of respect for him when he acknowledged his own reasonings, told her desperately about his wish. And that had pained him. He first thought it was because she was his former student and later friend, because though she had a fall out with all of the people she once was close to still had the time to look after him and Teddy. Because she was important to him. And to some degree that was true.

But - and Remus had never hated a but this much - a lot of his submissive behavior, his wish to please her, came from her own infliction with lycanthropy. She was a natural leader with her broad knowledge, intelligence and compassion, with her cool-headedness and the way she took control of a situation. He shouldn't be surprised that she was an alpha and he naturally reacted to her, took up his part of her pack.

True, at first he was angry. Angry that she hadn't told him outright what was going on with her. That she didn't feel the need to inform him, that she now knew what it meant to be afraid of yourself. But the anger was soon gone, replaced by a sharp pain and self-blame.

The first because he thought she rejected him and didn't trust him anymore, the second because he should have known but decided to turn a blind eye on obvious signs. Because he didn't want to be in the middle of an argument he couldn't even begin to understand - thanks to lacking facts and no one seemingly caring what it did to people not on the front lines.

He groaned and looked up to his ceiling. Sleep wouldn't come, he knew. And he was already so tired…

It was absurdly easy to enter the building and get access to his flat. There weren't even any wards as far as she could tell and a bit worried she asked herself if he cared so little about his safety and in advance the safety of his son. Hermione associated a lot of things with Remus Lupin - good and after losing the naivety of childhood and her teenage years a lot of bad as well - but sloppiness wasn't one of them.

She ascended the stairs, measured steps and soothing clicks of her boots on the hardwood stairs bringing her closer to her target. Nervousness didn't course through her veins. Neither was fear an emotion she was experiencing. She didn't in a while, she mused and watched with heightened senses the old lady down the hall leave her flat. With a nod she greeted her and waited until her steps vanished.

The door before her was a cheap thing. Dirt and age had colored some parts a darker color, the brass shield indicating at number 34 tarnished by London climate and inhabitants that could care less about these things.

She took off her glove and pressed her hand against the knob, as tarnished as the flat number glinting in the low lights of the corridor. A lamp down from her position flickered, the electricity buzzing in the old striplight. It hurt her sensitive eyes and it felt good to let them rest for a bit.

Her wolf was too proud to acknowledge the limits of a human body and Hermione herself was on a mission. Single-minded determination kept her upright, longing for a future going. She wasn't quite sure yet why she would need Greyback for that future to happen. She couldn't explain why she went to these lengths to free him. Her reaction to him - seeing him caged and the glint in his eyes telling her that a part of him was broken - was… puzzling to say the least. She knew, though, that her wolf think it natural.

Before the Ministry entrusted her with the task to find and catch him she was hell bent on leaving the UK and never look back. The urge was nearly unbearable when she infected herself with lycanthrophy. It felt like the last push she needed and breathed a sigh of relief. That got stuck in her throat when the owl descended on her a week later carrying an official-looking parchment and instructions. Reading Fenrir Greyback in crisp letters made something react inside of her. It wasn't her heart or her brain; there was no itch to meet him. She accepted anyway and in full knowledge that when she once pledged herself to a cause there was no going back.

"You needn't to be afraid, deary." A brittle voice pulled her out of her musings. Blinking and mentally cursing the fluorescence light, her eyes singled in on the old lady from a few doors down.

"Pardon?," Hermione inquired softly, confused at the soft smile turning her face full of wrinkles into an echo of the beauty it once held. The woman chuckled, patting Hermione's hand as if they both were conspiring against a totalitarian regime while drinking tea.

"He's a fine man. And such a nice boy he has. I couldn't image what anyone could have against the two of you." Hermione's first reaction was a snort that fortunately enough she could suppress.

"Thanks, Ma'm." She answered instead, the smile pulling at the corners of her lips charming for anyone but herself.

"Not a problem, dear. We girls sometimes need a little push." The old lady winked at Hermione and with a last pat on the young woman's arm made her way down the corridor. Hermione watched on until the door fell close behind her.

Without further hesitation or contemplation she entered the flat, careful not to be too loud. Though Remus ignored his senses he was a light sleeper and Hermione wanted to have the moment of surprise on her side. Her wolf had a thing for melodramatic, the witch discovered when she learned to listen to her.

Soft snores greeted her ears. She grinned and with soft steps made her way into his bedroom. Her eyes singled in on the man on the bed - his limbs curled around him as if he wanted to keep himself together.

The part of his face that wasn't hidden behind a pillow looked drawn out, tired. Rough nights, she knew and couldn't stop herself from cursing him mentally. Hermione stopped herself though, because she knew he was her responsibility now - for the good and the bad it meant. And she needed him for her plan to function.

Taking a silent breath, she let herself gently down in the old armchair in the corner, her eyes never leaving his face. She would wait, give him a bit more time to rest. Then, the game would begin.

Remus nearly ran through the corridors, his breath reverberating against the tiled walls. His dress shirt clung uncomfortably against his back, sweat dribbling down his neck and temples. An erratic hand pushed back his hair stuck on his forehead.

Luna's voice still echoed in his ears, his overactive mind forming it into a mellow timbre and a screeching tone in quick succession. He shook his head and tried to concentrate.

One hand placed on the wall he tried not to fall when he rounded the next corner, couldn't stop his run-down shoes from slipping though.

"You're too clever for us, Moony, ma boy." He remembered James saying, his tie bound around his head of wild dark hair lounging on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. Remus didn't feel clever now. In fact, he felt rather stupid. The self-blame wasn't new though.

He should have known. And a part of him probably did. But he ignored that part as he ignored advices, hints and the raging wolf inside of him on most days since Dora was gone.

Finally the door - his goal - came into view, dark and sturdy like every other door on this floor. The only difference was that he knew who worked, some even said lived, behind that door.

Without knocking or taking a moment to calm himself down, he pushed it open, the wood meeting the wall with a bang. His hot breath rushed through his parted lips and vanished in the cosy warmth of the office.

Before him - and he couldn't understand what exactly he had expected - sat Hermione Granger. Biochemist magna cum laude. Know-it-all Gryffindor witch. War heroine. And she was so freaking calm, collected as if not a second ago someone barged into her office in a frenzy.

"Hermione, I…" He stopped short, not even sure what he could possibly say, what was expected in these kind of situations, what was allowed. He tried to remembered what he would have liked to hear, what his parents should have told him but never did. But his mind stayed blank and froze completely when she looked up, raised eyebrow in her porcelain face and an annoying smile on her lips.

"Remus. Take a seat, please." She offered with a gesture of her hand as if she had expected him. Remus eyed the plush seat in front of her desk, the scratching of her feather resuming. He shook his head and cleared his throat. The lump in it stayed put.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry.. I should've.." Again he pushed his hair back, ignored the tight feeling like a giant fist around his ribcage.

"You should sit down." The witch said, still too calm, still too detached for Lupin's taste. With disbelief coursing through his veins he watched her next moves - how she gently stuck her feather into its holder, the way she waved her wand at the tea service standing in one corner of the room.

"Hermione…" He tried again, rooted to the floor because of his own emotions and the situation he hadn't stopped to think through first. Remus shook his head, balled his fists until he felt the sharp knick of fingernails biting into palms. Then a tentative step forward, another sure one following behind.

"I'm so sorry…" He breathed and hoped for any reaction, anything that showed him that she still was Hermione that visited him two days ago and brought muffins from the bakery down the road because she knew Teddy loved them. That she was still the girl turned woman he depended on too much for any respectable man his age. That she was still… herself, before he knew what happened to her.

"Tea?" She asked instead of reaction, though. It replaced his mixed ball of sadness and blame with hot anger. Without a second thought, his mouth spoke what his heart wanted it to:

"Could you stop being so freaking calm!" His exclamation made her finally look up. But there was no shock like he expected from a woman that once was an overachiever, a student that liked to be liked by teachers. Instead, they were narrowed and coldly calculating.

"Sit. Down." She pressed through thin lips. "Now."

And he did, like a good little puppy - hands folded in his lap and head bowed. Confusion latched onto his already wild maelstrom of thoughts a second later. And then came realisation and widened eyes.

Remus watched the witch - hardened but still compassionate, intelligent and oh so sweet - place a steaming cup of tea in front of him. Her commanding air was gone and in its wake came the calm after the storm. It made the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. Hermione waved her wand. With a soft click the door he left open in his urge to comfort her closed.

"Now." She began and blew on her own cup. He fought down his reaction at the sensual action.

"What can I do for you?" So nonchalant he couldn't even begin to understand her voice reached him. Had Luna lied to him? Told him some kind of story to pull a prank?

No, he decided after only a second. Though known for her eccentricity - Nargles, dear Merlin - she didn't lie. And didn't fabricate stories for the fun of it.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione." Remus repeated again, his voice heavy. His eyes stayed over her shoulder, not directly looking at her for reasons he couldn't grasp.

"You said so… four times, if I counted correctly. The question is…" Another sip of her tea and Remus wasn't sure if the witch tried to make him uncomfortable for her own amusement.

"Whatever for? Did you eat the last Caramel Clocks?" She asked amusedly and let her tongue brush away the moisture on her lips. His hands balled into fists again.

"No." He replied angrily for her lack of reaction, for her detached behavior.

"Then, what is it?" A sigh accompanied her inquiry. As if his sudden visit was an annoyance, as if his state, his worry for her and the blame he placed on himself for not being there for her when she was so often for him didn't matter in the least. Rage-filled, his words bubbled over his lips.

"Excuse me for feeling responsible when Luna tells me you're a werewolf now! Excuse me for worrying! Excuse me for feeling like I should blame myself for not-" He fell silent at the anger - sparks in her eyes - meeting his.

"I'm done with all of your empathy! Pushed onto me as if I should feel bad that you do! I won't excuse anything. It isn't my fault." Her voice wasn't louder than in normal conversation but he felt like she screamed at him.

"I'm done with people telling me how they feel because of something that happened to me! As if it is their right to put that weight on my shoulders! As if I should feel responsible that they can't cope with these things when I should be the one that breaks down." Her rant came to an end, but her words stayed in his hears, milling into his brain.

"I…" Remus blinked, far out of his depth to really know what he wanted to say next. Again he found himself in a situation he didn't know the best course of action for. Childishly he wished for a manual ("How to talk to your werewolf friend 101") or a conversation guide ("What NOT to say to Lycanthropes"). Sirius would have laughed at these.

"You don't have to say anything." Hermione answered levelly, her whole body - high-strang and commanding a moment before - comfortably slumping back into her huge chair. Remus tried to get his head back into the game. He wasn't known for his outbursts. Clever, his friends called him. Compassionate. He sighed.

"Why are you so calm about this?" His voice sounded broken even to his own ears and the calm witch only shrugging in answer wasn't helping his inner turmoil.

"Why wouldn't I be? It's not like I'm going to die. Or suffer. In fact.. I feel better. More complete." Hermione knew that it would baffle the wizard in front of her. He never allowed himself to get in tune with his wolf, never allowed himself the baser instincts being a Lycanthrope brought. The witch felt that it made her a better person. She wouldn't have needed to know Remus as long as she did, to know that he wouldn't see it that way.

"How long now?" He asked instead of reacting to her words. Hermione smiled a bit and thought back.

"Five moons." Remus flinched. Five months and he hadn't known. Hadn't even the slightest clue.

"I feel so guilty…" He mumbled and placed his head in his hands. Hermione growled. It awoke an automatic reaction from the older man - he further curled into himself, wanted to appear as submissive as possible. Remus knew only one werewolf with whom he felt that need.

"I told you not to make me the source of your feelings. To not put the responsibility on me when it's yours." Her voice sounded biting, aggressive. A part of him was relieved to witness any emotion at all.

"I'm sorry. I just…" He gulped at her brittle words, took the cup in front of him and let the lukewarm tea wet his throat.

"Can't you understand how I feel?" He watched the way her jaw worked and knew without being an empath or even good in divination that she was fighting her anger for his sake.

"I do. But I can't change that." Hermione pulled at her hair, only to brush it back again.

"Not without properly damaging your mind." She added as an afterthought but waved her hand in the next second as if to chase away these musings.

"Listening to you blaming yourself, letting you talk your feelings out, being a shoulder to cry on. I'm tired of that. You're responsible for your feelings, how you cope with situations, how events affect you." She frowned as if choosing the right words was the most difficult thing in this situation.

"Don't get me wrong. Helping you better yourself, move forward, make the right decision, yes. Listening to self-blame, self-pity and all that nonsense, not. Don't look back, you're not going that way and all that crap." She finished as if deciding to forgo her natural people skills was the easiest thing in the world.

"You've changed." Remus mumbled after a pregnant pause and there was so much sorrow in that one conclusion it drowned them.

"I don't know if I even recognize you." He added, battling between anger and sadness within himself.

"That doesn't matter to me. You wouldn't understand." Her sardonic answer pierced through his overactive mind and let his eyes single in on her. They were narrowed, ready to object but her own eyes rolling in annoyance made him stop.

"You never knew the pleasures of being in control of yourself. You're always fighting. And I get why. It doesn't make it right though." She didn't sound patronizing or even as if she wanted to insult or belittle him. The words touched something deep inside him that he couldn't even reach himself.

"Look at yourself…" There was a hint of worry in her whiskey eyes, "beaten, malnourished, cursing your life." She had stood up and punctuated every word with a step in his direction until she stood right in front of him.

"Remus…"

He startled awake, disoriented, sweating. His breath left him in fast inhales and exhales. Remus had forgotten about that conversation, had it burrowed under a pile of images he connected with a younger Hermione - one he could feel a connection to. He shook his head. Stupid, he mentally cursed himself because from the meeting in her office onward he knew that there was no going back. And that he was a coward for not acknowledging that.

A tapping sound, a hum that followed. It was all he needed to know who was with him. His eyes took in the pile of clothes, his open drawer, shoes he discarded on his way to his bed. And there, in a corner filled with pictures of Teddy and his wife, with a reading lamp and an old armchair, she sat. Bathed in the light of a growing moon, with a smile dangerous and comforting at the same time.

His heart stopped for a second.

"Hello, Remus."

Thanks for reading! Review please!

And again: English isn't my mother tongue and it isn't beta-ed yet. Please be nice! *smile*