AN: I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this month! My goal: 30 days, 30 stories. I will be trying to reach 30,000 words this month. Don't forget to review, and favorite.
Writing prompt: There's an old English myth that if someone who loved and trusted the werewolf called it by its name that it would turn back to human.
Much Love,
MrsA.
Hermione had known that Remus Lupin was a werewolf for a few months now, but, instead of telling anybody, she chose to observe him- deciding that discovering his nature was more important than an inconsistent danger like a man who turned into a wolf once per month. She was currently regretting that decision. If she had told someone, maybe she wouldn't be running for her life tonight under the full moon, trying desperately to hide from a beast whose instincts were pushing it to feed on human flesh. Even more importantly, maybe she wouldn't have been the one to howl, mimicking the sound that another werewolf would make, in order to rescue her other self who was even closer to the beast a few short hours earlier. All in all, Hermione was thinking that it was a bad night, so far.
She wished desperately in this that there were physical education courses given at Hogwarts besides that of flying and quidditch, which she held no interest in. Perhaps, she wouldn't be huffing and puffing her way through the bushes and brambles desperate to push her legs just a bit harder in order to escape the oncoming danger just behind. Hermione felt a brief moment of panic as she found herself entering a moonlit clearing in the Dark Forest. During any other moment, she would even stay a moment to take in the beauty of it, but she didn't have time for that tonight. Instead, she doubled back in order to find cover in a nearby shrub.
She hunkered down, and, when the wolf drew close, she held her breath and covered her nose, praying that no sound or scent betrayed her location. Of course, at the back of her mind, she remembered that Harry would also be hiding, but he could take care of himself. She'd seen it a hundred times if not more.
She waited there, unmoving, for an innumerable amount of time, hoping for something to rescue her. When she heard the nearby sound of light footfalls, she fought the urge to jump and warn whoever it was of the impending danger, but self preservation won the battle between her head and her heart. It seemed that Harry had chosen the same given that there was no sound or other movement nearby.
Hermione watched helplessly as the moonlight filtered through the trees and cast light and shadows on the ground, eventually falling on the owner of the two feet who was making the offending noise. The woman was tall and thin with a little bit of a mousey look about her, but, as if to punctuate some sort of point towards the negative, her hair practically glowed a violent magenta. The crayon-colored strands were a little shy of shoulder length and wiry, but very pretty as it framed her face just right. She wore brown wizards robes over a muggle looking blouse and work pants. Hermione had to fight a bark of laughter when she saw the pair of combat boots that nearly overtook her feet. In any other world, she would be desperately out of place, but, in the wizarding one, Hermione supposed that she was practically normal.
Hermione, having never met such a woman before, found that her mind created a multitude of origin stories, each more unlikely than the next, but it did give her a brief reprieve from the complete and utter fear that she had been feeling only a moment before. When finally her mind slowed, Hermione realized how brave the woman must be; she was probably even a Gryffindor- she was in the Dark Forest on the night of the full moon. Everybody knew the stories and rumors about what was hidden within the confines of the trees here. As if the beast could read her thoughts, it chose this moment to howl so loudly that Hermione jumped despite herself.
"Remus." The woman whispered, but the werewolf's head still whipped around towards her thanks to its uncanny hearing. "Remus John Lupin, enough of this funny business! It's time to come home."
The wolf sniffed the air curiously and snarled at the scent of fresh blood, which Hermione had just noticed on the woman's hands and knees. She had probably fallen on her way through the brush to get here. Hermione closed her eyes tightly, hoping that she wouldn't witness some horribly grotesque scene tonight, but, even as Hermione forced her eyes shut, she could still hear the woman's words. "Remus, it's me, Tonks."
The werewolf stalked forward, growling the whole way, as if enjoying the fear that Tonks must be feeling, but Tonks still did not move. She just kept talking in that same tone. "Okay, fine. I know that you don't like the name Tonks. You always call me by my proper name, Nymphadora."
Hermione had opened her eyes once again at this point because she was so incredibly curious about the reason why this Nymphadora Tonks wasn't a heap on the ground yet. She watched as the woman spoke to the wolf as if he were a man still and how the wolf's ears perked up and twitched at certain parts, like he was listening. "Of course, you also prefer it when I call you Professor, and I like it, too, because you're always so proud of what you've accomplished this year. Your chest puffs out, and there's some color in your cheeks when you talk about your students. I think that, those simple moments are the ones that I love the most between us."
The wolf was so close to Nymphadora at this point that she could touch it, if she wanted to. To Hermione's surprise, that's just what she did, extending her hand with the fingers extended and palm facing up in an open gesture of friendship. In the best case scenario, Hermione could see the wolf taking a snap and missing, but Hermione couldn't imagine that coming to pass. Instead, she was imagining blood smearing the ground and other monstrous thoughts. How could somebody tame a werewolf like this woman seemed to be trying to do? Was it even possible?
Then, she inhaled in shock as she watched the werewolf- this horrible monster- extend its paw toward her hand, and, slowly, almost painfully so, it became human once more.