Amelia
slept then, until early evening.

Ron
had been allowed back into the school and Poppy was apparently at dinner with
the rest of the staff. It was dark inside the Hospital Wing. She flexed her
arm, wearily. It hurt.

As her eyes adjusted to the
gloom, she realised that she could make out a shadow in darkness – it didn’t
feel particularly threatening.

“Remus?” she asked.

He lent forwards then, and she
could see that he’d been hurt in the struggle with Sirius; he was scratched,
pale and haggard.

“I came to say goodbye,” he said
quietly. There was defeat in his voice. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Goodbye?!” Amelia
sputtered, shocked. “What? Why?! No –”

He laid a gentle hand on her arm.

“I could have killed you Amelia,”
he said heavily. “Or bitten you – I’m not sure which would be worse. I’m not
safe.”

Arguments swam through her head;
bewildered and panicking, she selected one at random.

“But you can’t just leave, the
Potion –” but he cut across her.

“If I forget to take it again the
same thing will happen, or worse.”

“I won’t let you forget it!” she
snapped, fiercely.

“No, Amelia,”
he said, and that steely note had returned to his voice. “I’m going to stay
away from you. I should never have let myself get so close.”

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

“Don’t you bloody dare!” she
hissed.

“Amelia…”
he ran a hand through his greying hair, frustrated. Why couldn’t she understand
that this was for the best? Even if it is killing you, said that voice
at the back of his head. “I nearly killed you last night.”

“But you didn’t –”

“I’m a werewolf!” he snapped,
suddenly, and once again she could see the wolfishness pass across his gentle
features. “I have to live my life being chased from job to job and village to
village. Even if I hadn’t hurt you, that’s no kind of life for you. I’m also
older than you – no, don’t interrupt – much older. You – you deserve someone
who can make you happy, someone you can raise a family with, someone whom you
can trust – not someone who could kill you in your sleep.”

She was frozen, she realised;
paralysed by his idiocy.

“So I’m afraid I have to say
goodbye,” he said sadly. He stood, and the ghost of a smile dashed across his
face. “It really has been quite wonderful, Miss
Brown.”

When he received no response, he
strode, miserably but purposefully, out of the Hospital Wing.

It took a few seconds for Amelia’s
brain to re-engage.

“Oy!” she shouted, and made to
get up. Her left shoulder screamed in protest and she gritted her teeth.

Barefoot, bleeding from her
recent exertions and clad in her pyjamas she chased him out of the Hospital
Wing, through the Clocktower and across the Entrance Hall, where she scattered
a few stunned students.

“I’m talking to you!” she
shouted, crossly, aware that her wounds were re-opening. She was severely
pissed off.

Remus tried to pay her no heed
and speeded up; this was a mistake. He had intended to hole up in his office,
but his present route was taking him out into the grounds.

It was a clear night and the
waning moon shone brightly down on them. Both glared at it, with considerable
venom.

“Oy, Prick!”

Amelia
huffed in frustration as they reached the Black
Lake. She stopped by its edge and
cast around for a way of making him slow down. Remus couldn’t hear her
following him any more; he allowed his pace to slacken a little.

SPLAT!

The gob of muddy pondweed hit him
in the back of the head; he whirled around. Amelia
was stood ten feet away, one hand full of mud, the other hanging limp beside
her – she was glowering at him.

“This is not up for discussion!”
he shouted, and turned away.

SPLAT!

This one hit his ear; he pulled
an alarmed pond snail off his face and threw it back into the lake, angrily.

Amelia
was bending down to gather more ammunition, expression grim.

“Please don’t make this any
harder –” he dodged as the next missile flew past his head.

“This really is quite childish!” he snapped.

“You really are quite patronising!” she shot back.

Angry, and rather at a loss, he
turned to walk off again.

SPLAT!

He froze as the mud dripped down
the back of his collar. Somewhere behind him, he heard Amelia
give a soft “Hah.”

Remus lost his temper.

Stooping to gather ammunition, he
whirled to face her, ready to attack.

Amelia,
however, had dropped to her knees and was pressing a hand to her injured
shoulder; she looked up at him. She was very pale.

“Idiot!” he said, though he was
far angrier with himself now than with her. He flung the mud to the ground and
rushed to her side. Amelia’s adrenaline, the
only thing keeping her angry and on her feet, had finally left her, exhausted and
defeated, in a puddle of muddy pebbles on the shores of the Lake.

“Are you dizzy? Let me help you
up –” he babbled.

Amelia
stayed where she was and turned away from him.

“You shouldn’t have come after me
like that!” he said. “That was so foolish!”

The woman on the ground made a
noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob and swayed, dangerously.

“Amelia…”
No response. He could see the blood soaking through her bandages, staining her
cotton pyjamas.

You did this! his mind
hissed. You hurt her! You betrayed her!

“Mel…”
he reached out to her, but she pulled away weakly, falling on her side to the
pebbles of the Lake.

“Please… I need to get you back
to the Hospital Wing,” there was urgency in his voice now.

“I don’t want your help,” she
muttered, pulling her legs up to her chin in a sitting position. “You helping
me means you going away.”

He stared at her, miserably.

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t,” she said dully,
her voice muffled through her working arm. “You’re just running away again,
like you always do. Leaving me behind, just like everybody else.”

It occurred to Remus that if she
wouldn’t go with him to the Hospital Wing, he would have to stay out here with
her. He moved to her uninjured side and sat beside her, but she shuffled away.

Amelia
grimaced again and felt her shoulder.

“You know, Poppy should really
have a look at that,” he said, tentatively.

“What’s the point?” she asked,
crossly, aware that she sounded like a petulant child.

Remus found himself rather at a
loss for words.

“Er – well, she’d be able to heal
it up better… and it wouldn’t hurt as much…”

He looked at her; she was
shaking, hard. For the hundredth time that day, he felt his heart shatter. All
he wanted to do was take this woman into his arms and tell her that everything
would be ok; but he knew that if he let himself get too close to her again he’d
never be able to let her go…

“You don’t get it, do you?” she
said quietly, mostly to herself. “I don’t want younger, or safer or more
employable. I want you.”

She looked over at him then, and
he saw the tired desperation in her eyes.

“You’re good, and kind, and
loyal, and forgiving. You’re a brilliant teacher. You read poetry on purpose,”
she paused, and continued very quietly, “… you make me feel wanted, and safe.
Like nothing else can hurt me… and, I love you.”

In a flash, he remembered her
winter encounter with her ex-boyfriend and her mother’s recent death. Apart
from a girl half her age and an aunt she barely saw, who did this odd, lovely,
frightened woman have, except him?

“I honestly don’t know what I’ll
do without you around,” she was saying, muffledly. “But if what you need is to
be away from me then I’ll leave. I’ve
seldom met a better teacher, and you have a home here – I’m not going to take
that away from you.”

Even in the depths of her
despair, she was trying to do what was best for him.

That last, tiny, rational part of
him that was forcing him away from her finally broke down and pissed off for a
cup of tea.

“Oh, Mel,”
he said helplessly, wrapping his arms around her; hot tears splashed onto her
face and she realised that he too was crying.

“You’re right, you’re right, I
can’t leave,” he sobbed into her shoulder.

Crying too, she held on to him
tightly with her good arm.

“I’m a fool,” he said, muffledly.
“How could I stay away from the woman I love?”

He looked up at her then.

“I promised you once that you’d
not have to face things alone,” he traced a finger down her cheek, smearing her
face with mud. “I’d forgotten – I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to stay?” Amelia
asked, holding his gaze.

Remus nodded.

“Forever – if you want me to.”

Amelia
smiled wetly back at him.

“Forever, then.”

He kissed her then, trying to put
everything he felt for her into the working of his jaw. Eventually, they broke
apart. He rubbed her back, and then remembered why they were sat on a stony,
muddy beach.

“Gods, you’re cold,” he said, and
he lifted her to her feet. He realised, fleetingly, that they were now both
covered in muddy water. “We’d better get you back up to the castle, or Hermione
might hunt me down and crucify me.”

She nodded, sleepily; warm
sounded like an excellent idea.

“Wouldn’t want that…” she
mumbled.

Together they picked their way
back up to the castle that had become their home.

0o0o0o0

Poppy Pomfrey walked slowly back
to the Hospital Wing that evening. She’d noted Remus’s absence at dinner and
had decided that the two of them needed some time alone, to deal with the
events of the previous few days.

She glanced up at the waning
moon, sadly. Remus had always been such a kind and thoughtful man, so afraid of
hurting anybody; she could only imagine what the attack on Amelia
was doing to him.

She’d treated his scrapes and
bruises that morning; he’d been courteous, as always, but also largely silent.
He’d barely taken his eyes off Amelia, still and
pale in the hospital bed. She shook her head and hoped vaguely that he had kept
his – they were both very nice people and they were clearly in love.

As he’d sat and stared at her
that morning, Remus had had the look of a man about to bolt.

As she entered the Hospital Wing
and glanced up towards her patient, she caught her breath. Something was wrong.

With a flick of her wands she lit
the lanterns: Amelia’s bed was empty, her
pillows scattered across the floor.

Wand up, Poppy whirled to the
door, ready to give the alarm, but found that there was no need.

There, at the end of the
corridor, were two bedraggled teachers. Remus was supporting a stumbling Amelia
and they were laughing together, softly. Both were head-to-toe covered in mud.

Poppy allowed herself a moment to
enjoy the sight before carefully arranging her features into a suitably
matronly scowl.

“Mr
Lupin!” she barked. Two pairs of eyes
snapped up in surprise. “What do you think you have been doing to my patient?”

The healthy respect for Madame
Pomfrey that had been established in his
schooldays immediately reasserted itself; he straightened up at once and began
to stutter, guiltily.

Amelia,
who had caught Poppy’s eye in the stunned silence that had followed her
outburst, began to chuckle. She was almost certain that Poppy was about to tell
him to tuck in his shirt.

“Get in here this second!”

Remus started forwards
involuntarily, taking Amelia with him. Poppy,
relishing this effect, looked the pair up and down with a severe expression.

“You’re both filthy!” it was a
little bit like being shouted at by a primary school teacher, Amelia
realised. It was both funny and threatening at the same time. The older witch’s
voice changed a little, and she studied Amelia’s
expression (Remus’s was still one of dutiful obedience) closely. “What have
you been doing?”

Amelia
responded with a somewhat withering look.

“Amelia,
come with me,” Poppy commanded, business-like, and the two witches went towards
Amelia’s bed, leaving Remus stood sheepishly in
the doorway, self-consciously picking bits of pondweed out of his hair. He felt
rather as though he’d just travelled in time and was fifteen again, having
escorted James and Sirius to the Hospital Wing
after a spectacular and memorable failed prank involving the Giant Squid.

Poppy cleaned Amelia
up with a flick of her wand and went about removing her bloodstained bandages.

“Mr
Lupin, would you fetch a Warming Potion from
the cabinet please?” she asked absently. “No, wait.” Remus froze, mid-stride.
“We can’t have you dripping all over the place,” she said disapprovingly.
Without turning around, the older witch flicked her wand at him.

Finding himself clean and dry he
crossed to Amelia’s bedside and handed her the
Warming Potion.

She smiled up at him as the magic
did its work and the colour returned to her cheeks. Its welcome thawing effect
had the unfortunate consequence of returning the feeling to her shoulder and
she grimaced, looking down at it.

The wounds were deep. Four long
claw-marks had torn into the flesh of her shoulder. Amelia
now saw how lucky she had been: if she hadn’t turned towards Hermione’s scream
the werewolf would have ripped her throat out.

Remus too was looking at the
wounds.

That last modicum of rational
self-disgust looked up from its tea-break and folded up its newspaper.

The very moment before he turned
away, Amelia caught his hand and refused to let
go.

“Amelia
–” he began.

“Don’t,” she said. “You’re not
going anywhere, it wasn’t your fault.”

“She’s right you know,” Poppy
interjected, smearing some healing ointment across her patient’s skin. The skin
tightened under the cream, knitting the wounds together: they’d be nothing but
scars soon. “I know you, Remus,” the older witch said, gently. “Always so quick
to take the blame. But it wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t the wolf’s fault
either. It’s in his nature.”

“But –”

“But nothing.” She looked up at
him, wiping her hands on her apron. “How much of it do you remember?”

“Only fragments, really…” he
said, slowly.

“Well I suppose that’s a mercy at
least.” She looked hard at both of them. “Miss
Granger stayed with you, Amelia,
when Mr Potter
ran after Black – yes, I do believe their version of events,” she continued,
waving their interruptions away. “Those children were not Confunded. When the
Dementors came, you ran back up to where she and Amelia
were,” she nodded at Remus. “Hermione was afraid the werewolf had ‘come back
for seconds,’ as it were, but he – you – lay down by the two of them and whined.
She said that you kept trying to get Amelia to
wake up… You only left them when Severus fell out of the
Mobilicorpus charm.”

(The puzzle of this revelation
left little room for Amelia to consider the
hilarity of Severus’s comedic awakening, but you, dear reader,
may take a moment to picture him waking, confused, before falling flat on his
face, flailing wildly. Enjoy!)

Poppy surveyed them for a moment
before making up her mind.

“I don’t usually do this,” she
said, “but would you mind staying to keep an eye on Amelia,
Remus? I have a meeting with Minerva.”

Remus nodded numbly and sat down
beside Amelia’s bed – she still hadn’t let go of
his hand.

She watched him carefully as
Poppy slipped out of the Hospital Wing.

“Remus?”

“I…”

She waited, not really knowing
whether he’d stay or make a run for it; she knew that this time she wouldn’t be
able to follow him. He met her eyes.

“I’ve never heard of a werewolf
behaving like that towards a human.”

He glanced at her shoulder in a
troubled fashion… an appalling thought had begun to filter into his mind. Amelia
took in his expression.

“I won’t turn,” she said. “I
asked Poppy – seeing as I wasn’t bitten. She smiled wryly, “it’s just a
scratch.”

Remus looked greatly relieved.

“My… the wolf’s… behaviour
doesn’t make sense though… if that’s the case.” He looked like he was trying to
solve a particularly tricky crossword puzzle: he was frowning slightly and his
eyes flicked from side to side as if he were looking at various explanations in
his mind’s eye. It was intensely adorable.

“Unless…” a change spread across
his features; he looked at Amelia in wonder.
“Unless… the wolf recognised you… which it wouldn’t do… unless he’d chosen you
– as his mate.”

Amelia
stared back at him in astonishment.

“Is that even possible?”

“It’s been known to happen… but
there needs to be an exceptionally strong connection between the two parties –
it tends not to happen unless both people are werewolves, though it’s not
unknown.”

“Exceptionally strong…”

“Yes,” he said slowly.

“But when I first went towards
you – him, you – he – attacked me…”

“It’s possible that it happened
too fast for him to notice, if the bloodlust took over too quickly… or the fact
that you howled after I – we – hurt you.”

“I howled?”

“In pain… but it was still a
howl… I remember that bit quite clearly. Werewolves respond to that sort of
noise… it’s a call… a means of tracking friends – or family.”

“Oh,” Amelia
said. She didn’t really know what to say to him… at least this sort of meant
that he wouldn’t run away any time soon. Even if he did, the wolfish part of
him might come back of its own accord – she wouldn’t have anything to fear from
him anymore. She squeezed his hand.

“Are you alright? With all this I
mean… wolves tend to mate for life…” he said, suddenly nervous. What if she
doesn’t want this… doesn’t want me?

“I know… it’s a bit big to fit in
my head all at once… but what does fit makes me quite happy,” she said, smiling
at him.

Nerves changed quickly into
surprise and swiftly into stunned happiness.

“Erm, so you… we… erm…”

Amelia
grinned at him. He cleared his throat.

“So… after the end of term… are
you staying here?”

“Not for long,” she said, and
found that she would be sad to leave even for the summer months, “I have to go
see Bea, and there’s the summer harvest to bring
in, and I may end up on a local dig, I usually do.”

Remus’s face fell.

“Oh… I’d hoped…”

“What?”

“I’d hoped we’d be together,” he
mumbled.

“… I’d sort of assumed that you’d
come with me – I mean, i-if you want to.” It was Amelia’s
turn to feel nervous.

“I – I wouldn’t want to impose –”

“You wouldn’t be,” she assured
him quickly. “Bea will love you… and Hermione’s
going to be away at the Burrow for a while – Ron
said something about the Quidditch World Cup –”

It took a while for Remus to find
his voice again.

“I – that would be wonderful, Amelia,
really. Are you sure?”

Amelia
gave him a Look, and he grinned. It looked like it would be an interesting
summer.

0o0o0o0

Unnoticed, Hermione smiled to
herself. She too had been puzzling over the werewolf’s odd behaviour – the way
he’d nuzzled at Amelia’s palm or neck, trying to
wake her, whining plaintively at Hermione when he’d had no success. After the
initial fear had worn off it had become quite amusing. He’d put himself between
them and the Dementors whenever it had looked like they might come nearer.

A quick trip to the library had confirmed
Hermione’s suspicion that Remus might be a more permanent part of Amelia’s
life than he might have thought.

She slipped out of the Hospital
Wing under the cover of the Invisibility Cloak; she’d borrowed it from Harry
to visit her cousin, but she could see that Amelia
was well tended. So preoccupied was she in smirking at her cousin’s good
fortune that she collided with Severus on the main staircase.

Hit by an invisible something,
the Potions Master drew his wand.

“Show yourself!”

Hermione let out her breath in a
rush; sitting up, she pulled off the cloak, looking ashamed.

Severus lowered
his wand and he assessed her speculatively, sprawled on the steps below him.

“You do realise that students who
walk the halls at night get into trouble,” he snarled, and Hermione, assuming
that he was still smarting from the night before, began to stutter an
explanation.

He rolled his eyes at her and
offered her his hand.

“I expect you were checking on
your cousin,” he said.

Dumbfounded, she took his hand
and righted herself, tucking the Invisibility Cloak into her pocket as she did
so.

“And is she alright?” he asked,
clearly amused at her astonishment.

Hermione nodded.

“Remus was with her.”

Severus smiled, so
he’s forgiven us… and himself. That’s a start, she thought. Or more likely,
Amelia had beaten some sense into him.

“Good,” he looked at the student
in front of him; she was watching him with a curious expression.

“At the risk of losing my awe-inspiring
reputation,” he began, “I shall escort you back to your Common Room. Can’t have
you running into any other teachers.”

Surprised, Hermione followed him
up the staircase.

“I was wondering if I could speak
with you, Mr Potter
and Mr Weasley
tomorrow,” he said, not unkindly. Hermione was aware that this was not a request.
“Shall we say two o’clock tomorrow, in
my office?”

He left her at the portrait-hole,
staring after him.

“Well, that was weird,” she said
to herself, stepping through.