Written for Dyno_Drabbles and won Mod's Choice! Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story. Not a nice ending - NO FLAMES.
The first full moon after he'd been attacked, Bill had refused to let Fleur be anywhere near him.
In hindsight, it had been a sound idea. His body, shape, and face had remained the same... but his mind had not.
He'd sent her away a week prior to the second full moon and he'd ended up pacing the floors of Shell Cottage every night, dragging his slightly elongated nails along the walls, ripping the paper covering them. When Fleur had returned to him, he'd said nothing as he'd watched her silently repair the damage he'd wrought upon the house.
It had always been on the tip of his tongue to question her reasoning as to why she'd stayed with him, but a look of longing from her, or a strategically placed hand on his thigh, sent thoughts of her safety right out the proverbial window, and his animal instincts flared to life.
The next full moon, however, had fallen on Halloween, and Bill had no illusions that he would become as close to a full lycanthrope as he'd had before and not transform. Fate wasn't that kind. Of course, Fleur had begged and pleaded to stay with him during the few days prior, as she always had, but he'd firmly rejected the notion.
He hadn't counted on her tenacity, on her stubbornness to help him through his crisis, though she'd had no earthly idea what that would entail.
Now pacing unceasingly in his cell, he thinks back to that night two years ago and remembers the first trace of her scent, and the madness that had immediately taken over. He wishes he could remember what he did, but there is only empty darkness that fills him... and the blood that refuses to be washed from his hands.