DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters, places, and/or objects belong to JK Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for a short adventure in which I become the puppeteer and they are my marionettes.
Beta: MoonyNZ
Dear reader…let us first pretend that a large chunk of the 7th book NEVER happened, though the war is over. Let us also remember that I will be taking many liberties to make this story function. I have to make a number of alterations to even begin to attempt to make this story make sense. I'm also toying with the relationship between a man and the wolf inside of him… kind of like two separate beings that must learn to live with each other. You'll see what I mean. That being said, may I present…
When the Moon Howls
There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls. --George Carlin (1937-2008)
Chapter One: New Moon
The world tilted to the side in a dizzying effect. The loud thumping of her heart echoing in her ears was beginning to deafen her as she stumbled for the fifth time, her hands scraping harshly against the unforgiving floor of the forest. Rivulets of dark red liquid mixed with the dirt caking her skin. Her head crashed to the ground, a piece of wood from a fallen branch driving deep into the exposed skin of her arm.
She rolled over onto her back, desperately drawing in deep breaths as she struggled to regain enough control to apparate to safety. Her eyes caught the moon gleaming at her between the branches of the trees overhead. Eyes flittering, the grey spots splashed together until a wolf howled from the white sphere…
Many moons later…
The overwhelming smell of the nauseating floral perfume was beginning to irritate her. Hermione shifted slightly to the right, away from the scent, and focused her attention on the whirling couples while plucking at the clinging fabric of the dress she was forced to buy for the occasion.
Five balls in the span of two months. It was beginning to get a bit ridiculous, but with the war finally over and Voldemort defeated, the wizarding world had once more become a joyous place where people were taking every opportunity to celebrate.
Hermione rolled her eyes at that thought. As soon as Voldemort was gone, they had conveniently forgotten about everyone who had given their lives to make it so. Harry Potter was only a name to them now, their saviour and nothing more.
She scoffed softly. At least Harry's name was remembered. Ron had merely become "that youngest Weasley boy, you know, the one that was friends with Harry Potter." Even she was categorised with Harry's name. Not that she minded, of course. She was quite happy to drift through unnoticed by those that would only use her as a poster child if given the opportunity. She was the last of the Golden Trio.
The floral scent wrapped further around her as the person shifted closer. Hermione fought the urge to get up and flee from the room as her eyes darted to the side to find the source of the sickening scent. Hermione was sure it would have been quite lovely had it not been poured on to the point where it was overwhelming.
Her eyes alighted on the lithe form of Fleur as she stood in a circle of women, entertaining them with some story of life in France while inserting comments to the unmarried women about married life. The woman had taken to her role as a wife and, maybe more importantly to the woman herself, the fame she received from fighting in the war.
Disgusted, Hermione stood abruptly and walked along the walls. She kept her eyes diverted from those she passed in order to not be drawn into a conversation. She brushed easily by the new Minister of Magic, slinking back into the shadows with a sigh of relief as she finally escaped that horrid smell.
She leaned back against the wall with a frustrated sigh. She really hated attending these "functions," but she knew that she would receive more grief if she didn't come. It was a hypocritical celebration, though. So many of the guests were those that fought on the other side. The Ministry knew this, and yet the families were still treated like royalty because they bore the oldest wizarding names, and they had the money to help restore the wizarding world to its former ways. The only thing that has really changed, Hermione noted, was that people were no longer scared.
"Hiding?"
The smile flittered easily to her face as she turned toward Remus. He had a few more scars since the last time she had seen him, one particularly nasty one running down his left cheek. He looked tired. The blood that flowed through his veins was becoming resistant to Wolfsbane and, after years of the foul potion, instead of embracing the wolf, Remus fought that side of himself down so strongly that he was wearing himself thin. There were times when he couldn't restrain Moony, though. She had seen when the wolf side was just too dominant for even Remus to control.
"Escaping," Hermione countered softly, "for a brief moment of respite." She let her eyes trail over the people lingering on the dance floor as he leaned against the wall beside her. "I'm not fond of crowds too much anymore."
"Or overwhelming perfumes that leave the scents reeling?"
Hermione allowed herself a small smile as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "That too." Her eyes landed on Fleur once more. She was now hugging Bill to her, trailing her hands through his hair and over his chest while he appeared as if he wasn't even breathing. "Did she bathe in the stuff?"
"She may have," he agreed as he watched the couple too. "I think, though, that if she hangs onto him for any longer, Bill may pass out from not breathing."
Hermione chuckled softly. "He should just breathe through his mouth. He may still be able to smell it, but it wouldn't be as strong."
Remus shifted slightly, glancing over at her. "Maybe, but even then it would be overwhelming for him. Though he wasn't fully infected, the amount of werewolf blood he has in him has effected his senses."
Hermione didn't comment, only nodded as she watched Bill excuse himself and practically flee from his wife and out onto the terrace. Only when he was completely outside did she push herself away from the wall, opening her mouth to give her goodbyes so she could escape, but he beat her to it.
"How about a turn across the dance floor?" he inquired and, before she could refuse, he picked up her hand, easily guiding her toward the centre. He pressed his right hand against her lower back while his left hand engulfed hers, efficiently trapping her in his embrace.
"How is Teddy?" she inquired as he circled them easily across the floor, weaving through the other dancing pairs. She glanced up to see him staring at her intently. Not to be cowed, she continued, "Is he still having trouble sleeping?"
The corner of his lip twitched upward slightly in a small smile. "Sometimes. Andromeda comes over most days to help me with him." He shook his head slightly. "Some days I don't know what I would do if she didn't help."
"You'd be just fine, I'm sure of it." Since Tonks' death, Remus had been struggling with being a single father. She had heard he had spent many nights at his in-laws with baby Teddy. She knew he would often stray away when he was afraid his werewolf half was coming out too strong.
He merely shrugged, his eyes once more staring down into hers. "What about you, Hermione?" he asked softly, his hand giving hers a brief squeeze when she made to pull away slightly.
"What about me?"
"How have you been?" When she went to say "fine" as she always replied when asked, he cut her off. "No one has seen much of you since that final battle, but now that I stop to think about it, you've been different since before the final battle."
She kept her face impassive as she asked, "Different?"
He nodded, leaning forward so his mouth almost brushed her ear, whispering, "Did you know, that each person has a particular scent? The scent rarely varies. Sometimes it'll change if the person has a serious disease or illness, but that change is so minimal it is often missed."
She stiffened slightly in his arms, turning her face so that her nose was almost brushing against his neck. "What's your point, Remus?"
He tilted his head. His mouth now brushed against her ear, her lobe catching in between his parted lips as he whispered, "Your scent has changed, Hermione."
She just stopped herself from pulling away as she allowed herself to relax in his grip, chuckling softly as she easily replied, "I don't see how it could." She pressed herself closer to him to give anyone who may be watching them the image of two good friends enjoying a dance.
His nose nuzzled the base of her neck softly, drawing in her scent as he ran his nose up the column of her throat till his lips rested against her ear once more. "I think you know how it happened," was all he said as his tongue flicked out quickly, tasting the smooth flesh under her ear.
"Remus," she said softly in warning, despite the fact that she was now shivering in his arms and tilting her head to the side in invitation.
"Full moon's almost here," he said, pressing his face into the side of her neck. His right hand applying pressure to her lower back so that she had no choice but to press flush against him. He moved his mouth slowly down her throat, his teeth lightly scraping the skin at the base before nipping at it teasingly.
"Remus, I told you, I can't," she said before he could ask. "It wouldn't be right…" The argument sounded weak even to her, and, sure enough, his retort was quick.
"You didn't seem to mind when Tonks was alive." He bit lightly at her neck, careful not to break any skin. "You came to me, remember."
She remembered very well. It had been the night after she had become lost in the woods. She had been curious, curious enough to seek him out despite the fact that Tonks was asleep in his bed just one floor above them. She had trapped him efficiently in the library- a fitting place she thought- and had played perfectly to what she knew Moony would like. She had lost her innocence that night to the wolf in Remus, and with that her curiosity had been sated and she had kept a strict rule of avoiding the wolf whenever the moon neared the full stage.
"I'm leaving tonight, Remus," she finally answered, rubbing his neck calmingly to keep the wolf at bay. "I have to be somewhere tomorrow and I'll be gone for four days."
"Leave tomorrow," he practically growled against her neck. He pressed himself flush against her, letting her know how much Moony wanted her to stay. "Andromeda is watching Teddy this weekend for me."
"Remus, I really…"
"Where are you really going, Hermione?" he interrupted, his teeth nipping up the side of her neck, stopping just below her ear. "You've disappeared the last five full moons."
"How do you know that?"
"Moony needs you, Hermione," was all he said as his lips began to move down her jaw line. "I went to your flat at all the peek times during the full moon, only you weren't there."
"I've been busy, Remus."
He growled softly, moving his face so that his nose brushed hers, their mouths dangerously close as the robes of a woman being whirled around the dance floor brushed up against Hermione's legs. "Are you avoiding me, Hermione?" His eyes flashed from their light brown colour, to a golden colour- Moony.
"I told you, I've been busy." She stared straight into his eyes, determined not to be intimidated by the severe glint now shining back at her from the golden orbs. She knew he wouldn't hurt her and, though she honestly couldn't explain why, that disappointed her a bit. She had gone to Remus rather than the others for the passion she had been seeking. Instead, she had found a tame werewolf, one that had been beaten into submission over the years.
"We had such fun the last time, Hermione," he purred, his lips lightly brushing the corner of her mouth. "I wasn't rough with you. You purred in my arms, remember? Like a kitten enjoying the way she was being stroked. We could have that again. I've taken my potion so I know I won't hurt you…"
She sighed softly and planted her hands against his chest, applying enough pressure to put a little space between them. "I have to leave tonight, Remus. I'm sorry."
He let her slip out of his grasp, but she had taken no more than a few steps before his hand grasped hers, pulling her back to face him. His face was serious now as he stared down at her. "Your scent."
She raised a brow, folding her arms across her chest. "What about it?"
"It's not a cause from that night is it?"
She kept all emotion from her face, a skill she was beginning to master, as she stared up at him. "What do you mean?"
He frowned, apparently a bit put out by her lack of understanding as he stepped closer, leaning down toward her. "Are you pregnant, Hermione?"
"God, no," she replied instantly, and apparently a bit too loudly as nearby couples stumbled in their movements as they turned to stare. "No," she repeated, softer this time.
He stared down at her, his hand giving hers another brief squeeze before letting go, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. "You're sure?"
She bristled. "Of course I'm sure. I think I would know by now, don't you?"
He stepped back slightly at her harsh tone. "I just thought," he drifted off as he glanced at her and then over at where Bill stood once more with his wife. He straightened suddenly, his eyes turning back to her. "I just thought that maybe you were because your scent…"
He was staring intently now at Fleur. She turned to glance at the French woman who was smiling now at her husband. Bill now appeared calmer as he stared down at his wife, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Do you know why, even though it practically nauseates him to do so, he stands by her?" Remus questioned softly, pulling her up beside him.
"Why?" she asked, the sinking feeling in her stomach intensifying as she could almost guess the answer.
"Because he asked her to do it, to wear that perfume," he told her softly, standing behind her now with his hands resting on her hips.
"Why would he do that?"
"To attempt to cover up the scent of his baby growing within her." His right hand drifted lazily across her stomach, resting there as he pulled her back against him. "There are still many dangerous werewolves out there, Hermione, ones that would love to kill her and the unborn baby for revenge, or merely just for the pleasure of a kill."
Hermione stared at the two across the room for a second more before turning around and moving out of Remus' arms. "I'm not pregnant, Remus. I can promise you that." She walked past him, pausing when she heard him say, "I will find out eventually, Hermione."
She brushed through the dancing couples, almost racing toward the door. She glanced back when she finally made it to the exit. He was still standing in the middle of the dance floor, his eyes locked onto hers.
If only he knew…
Hope you guys like it so far.
Much Love,
MiZZ AmAyA