It had only been a few heartbeats since he had apparated on the front step of their flat before she had the door open and was ushering him inside.
They did not speak. Instead he followed the steps of a silent ritual they had begun since his first full moon after she had become his wife.
He recalled the first night he tried to resist and talk her out of this dance. She would have none of it. So in his tired, weak and broken state he surrendered to her. Tucking her small frame under his arm she led him to the bathroom where she already had a bath drawn. It was always ready, though she never knew when he might return, waiting for the water to be warmed with a simple charm.
Continuing silently, she helped him out of the remaining tatters of his clothing, always trying not to dwell on if the blood were his or something(one's?) elses. As he sunk into the soothing water she began to lightly sponge his back and shoulders, ever mindful of the fresh wounds and bruises. When soon the water was murky with dirt and blood she would wrap him in a soft towel he swore she saved just for these nights.
From there she would lead him to their room where she had clean sleeping garments laid out for him. But before he donned them she would always tend to his wounds first, some with salves and potions; others with healing charms she had become quite adept at. Then, keeping to whatever unmarred skin of his neck, back and shoulders she could find, she would knead the knotted coils of the moon away. And only then would he dress and allow her pull up the bedsheets around him.
Then as always, he would hold his hand out to her. For no matter how long he had been changed back into a man, no matter all the tenderness and care she had shown him since his return, it wasn't until he held her in his arms that he truly felt human again. It wasn't until he felt her heartbeat against his chest and her warm breath on his neck that he remembered he was a man and not a monster. He was a friend, a husband and a lover.
It was at this moment that he felt the most blessed. It was also when he felt the most guilty. She had spent months of their arduous courtship convincing him that the werewolf was but a small part of who he was and that he should never let it hinder him from happiness. "I become a monster once a month, too" she would joke. And, at last she succeeded; he now accepted that he was deserving of love and happiness...but she was so young and full of life.
Beautiful, charming, funny, and an Auror to boot. Any man would be lucky to have her. She deserved so much more than nursing an old werewolf for the rest of her life. Yet here she was, perfectly content and happy. Always there to lovingly wash, bandange and massage the monster away wanting nothing but his love in return.
They would always,silent as ever, lie there and sleep 'till morning. But tonight, tonight he spoke. "I don't deserve you." he murmured against her hair. He felt her lashes flutter as her eyes opened. After a pause they closed again and he felt her soft lips press a kiss against his chest. "Yes, you do." was her whispered response. After moment he smiled, and slept.
