A/N: Hellu and welcome to this story.

First of all: I own nothing, not even a real bed and certainly not Harry Potter.

Secondly: I'm German and English is not my native language, so there will be grammar and spelling mistakes, but I hope you can enjoy it anyway. (Psst: If you're interested in BETA reading, just message me) I like writing in English and it is definitely a good exercise.

Short information about the story:

I always wondered what exactly happened to Ron after he fought with Harry in the tent and went away. He went to Shell Cottage, that's for sure, but how was his time there? What has he done?

This story will be around 10 Chapters long, excluding prologue and epilogue. This is my baby and I thought about writing it for nearly a year now. Sometimes it will take some time for uploading the next chapter, but I hope you will stay with me until the end.

Please enjoy, give likes and comments, even if it is constructive criticism.

PROLOGUE

"Do you know?", he said, and his sad eyes laid on me, "Do you know the story about fated pairs?"

How I hated those eyes. As bright, as piercing as a hunter. I hated him almost as much as his eyes alone. Pale and elegant, with narrow shoulders and a straight figure, Etiènne stood there. A true aristocrat. So unlike myself.

"There is the legend about the first werewolf Lykaon." I replied and stroked the rough stubbles on my chin.

Did I want to hear it again, the legend about Lykaon and the Greek wolf mountain Lykaion, the first of its kind?

It was late at night, and the moon shone silver from the dark blue sky. Two men, hooded creatures, were walking down the stony road. The moon shone so brightly that they could see everything. Every step crunched on the pebble stone path, and some crickets played an orchestra of their own. Even their breath was loud in their ears.

"Where are we going?", The younger one asked. A boy, not older than seventeen, and walked right behind the darker, older man. With hunched shoulders and a quick beating heart, he followed. Even after weeks of being together, in the wooden forest, both were nearly unable to trust the other one.

"You do know I won't tell you. So why must you ask?", the man said, "Again?"

The boy huffed lowly, irritated, but he followed nevertheless.

The air smelled of summer. Basil and lavender and far away, just a tiny bit; the scent of the sea. Cold, angry waves of the salty sea. The wind wasn't cold, but some might have shivered when the earth's breath touched them.
The younger one inhaled deeply, almost tasting the sea on his tongue and the uncomfortable tension in his shoulder became less difficult to endure.

His eyes wandered through the night, always on watch and searching for any potential danger, but there was nothing.

Nothing in the way the grass bowed in the wind or a lonely seagull screamed showed any danger.

They had left the small town behind them. Where they walked were no unnatural light, only the moon and some wild little fireflies. At first, he had been amazed by the bright lights the villagers were able to generate. With one motion of their hands, lights flamed up in their little houses, almost like a little bit like magic. If he had known before, he thought, maybe he would have been more interested in their lives. In their being.

But he hadn't and now he was in that situation.

Now he enjoyed the dark night, the natural moonlight and every fibre in his body felt at ease.

"Hurry.", The man said in a hushed whisper, not unkind, but not as gentle as he could have. And so the boy hastened, to not be left behind.

"I know it's overwhelming at first.", the tall figure said when the boy was by his side again, "But it will settle."

It was the first time the man spoke to him about their...condition.

"Will it?", The boy sneered. The other merely turned his head towards the boy, but his face stayed hidden under the dark hood cloak. Not saying another word, but making his statement clear anyway.

He walked faster without saying another word. The younger one sighed heavily again.

"How long until it will settle?", he asked after a while.

He nearly felt the raised eyebrow the other must have given him, but the answer came anyway, "In a few months, probably."

"Probably?"

"Some take longer to adjust."

What if I don't want to adjust? He thought but didn't dare to speak out loud. They had a similar argument a few days ago when the moon stood higher and fuller, and the inevitable had happened. When the boy had held a knife in his hand, pressed against his wrist and screamed, that NO he didn't want that. NO, he couldn't endure it. What if, what if he would just top himself over the edge?

And the man with the scarred face and the sad smile has sat calmly on the rotten tree trunk covered with moss, stirring the little campfire with a wooden stick and only said, "If you must do, then do. But I would prefer if you wouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because you're one of mine now."

And the boy had dropped the knife and cried until the moon cracked his skin and broke his bones and they had howled loud towards the night sky.

So the boy dropped the words and walked silently beside the man.

The nearer they got to their main destination the louder the sea was. They could hear every single wave, hear the calling of the sirens and the sad cries of the sunken heroes. Suddenly they walked through an invisible barrier, only the feeling of magic lingered on them like thousand little ants.

There was a small house, a cottage on the sand dune. Out of one of the windows shone the warm light of a candle and it cast some shadows on the way.

The door opened, and a tall man came out, something in his hand. He held it in front of him, like a weapon and asked, "Who's there?"

It remained silent, only the wash of the waves against the near bold cliffs resound in the night.

"I know you're there.", the man laughed, his nice featured face lit in the candlelight, " I heard you coming."

After a moment the two were stepping to him. The black coats flapped around them, and even in the candlelight, the faces stayed hidden.

"It's me.", the older one said and pulled the hood off his face.

The other man with long, red hair mustered him suspiciously, "Remus? What was the first thing you said to me after Greyback bit me?"

" 'Now we are brothers. You and I are a pack.' ", Remus answered without hesitation and smiled at Bill Weasley. Both lowered their wands, embraced each other like long lost friends.

"What are you doing here?", Bill asked, his voice deep and low.

"Bill? Remus?", A tall, beautiful woman with a thick French accent appeared behind the oldest Weasley son and sounded worried, "What'z wrong? Are everyone all right?"

"Yes, of course, Fleur.", Remus assured her hurriedly, "I just..."

He trailed off like he wasn't sure what to say to his friends, but then said, "I need your help."

"Our help?", Bill repeated confused but opened the door wider, so they could step inside.

Then his and Fleur eyes laid for the first time on the other figure, half hidden under his cloak, half hidden in the shadow of Remus Lupin.

"Who is this?", Bill's voice was suddenly strained, hard.

"Put your hood down.", Remus said, a hand in the air as if he wanted to hold the others back if they decide to attack the youngest one.

"But.", the boy wanted to argue, though Remus interrupted him harshly, "Put your damn hood down, Draco."

And Draco Malfoy did that, showing his pale face and grey eyes. The features which exposed him as a Malfoy far too easy.

Within a heartbeat Fleur had out her wand, pointing it towards him and her delicate face twisted in an angry grimace, "Him? You brought HIM into our home?"

"Stop.", Remus moved in front of Draco, shielding him from the danger and although not wanting, he bared his teeth at her.

Then Bill moved too, gripping Fleurs wand hand with a sharp "No, don't" and watched Remus from wary eyes. Due to his movements, the long scars on his face was lightened by the warm light from the house, and Draco suddenly knew. It was him.

He had done that to the man when he had let the Deat Eaters into Hogwarts. Hot shame waved over him, and his throat closed as if a cold hand closed around it.

It was quiet for a long time. Even their breaths were quieter than normally until Bill said, "You're one of mine now."

And even if it meant as a statement, it came out as a question and Draco, tired, sad and so scared just nodded once.

"What do you mean?", Fleur hissed, and Draco could smell her disdain.

And Draco looked up, right into the dark blue eyes of Bill Weasley and knew, knew that he was safe here and said for the first time in over a month, "I was bitten by Greyback. I'm a wolf now."