I melded with the glass shower walls, wanting nothing more than to drown in the hot flow of water or fade away with the billowing steam. I squinted my eyes, turning my hair a translucent shade of icy white. My tears were hot and overflowing and I couldn't breath through my nose. I shut off the water, bitter.

The lingerie set I'd bought was black and silky to the touch, with tiny flowers embroidered onto the surface. I felt odd slipping it on, my wet hair now somber shade of purple, because Remus wasn't here to see me. He'd been gone for more than a week. I hoped he was alright.

I pulled on an oversized Weird Sisters t-shirt, tiptoed to the nursery down the hall, and peered in on a sleeping Teddy. His slight form- topped with turquoise hair- was rising and falling gently, peacefully. I hoped he remained the carefree and docile baby Remus and I had hoped for- minus my clumsy tendencies. He was a month old and hadn't shown any signs of Remus's Lycanthropy. Thank Merlin for that.

I headed downstairs, wincing at the loud, creaking floorboard at the bottom, and collapsed onto the living room sofa, as lifeless as a rag doll in my too-big t-shirt. Shivering, I waved my wand to light the fireplace grate and then pointed it at the old radio on the mantelpiece. A quiet tune began to play, the soft keying of a piano. It was different, but relaxing. I closed my eyes…

And awoke to the sound of crying. It was minutes later, or hours. I hadn't a clue. Disoriented, I rolled off the couch and winced when I hit my ankle on the coffee table.

"Damn…"

It was dark: the fire had went out, leaving only chunks of coal and a few orange embers. The radio was still playing, now a garbled string of talk shows and ads. I switched it off and hurried upstairs to my crying child. I pushed open the nursery door.

Teddy's hair had turned an angry shade of pink and I nearly giggled, picking him up.

"Shh, sweetheart…" I soothed, cradling him in my arms, "Mummy's here…"

I glanced around the room, which was so eerily quiet. Hippogriffs and fairies, which were painted on the nursery wall and were now galloping and twinkling over to the crib, looked uneasy. Outside, not a single light shone. I frowned and waved my hand at the tiny bulbs around Teddy's crib. They flickered on, glowing softly. Teddy quieted and gripped the front of my blouse with a miniscule fist. Gingerly, I laid him down and kissed his tiny forehead. He was slumbering in seconds.

The baby had gotten scared because it was so dark. Now that I was back in the quiet, shadowy living room, I could see why. I searched for my wand, in the process knocking over a stack of magazines next the recliner. I cursed.

"Accio wand." I muttered, but it didn't come. I frowned.

Behind me, I heard the groaning of wood. I turned quickly.

"Remus?" there was a hopeful note in my voice as I scanned the darkness. My eyes darted to the umbrella stand next to the door, the tall lamp in the corner, and then the distinct shadow at the bottom of the stairs. I jumped, but with the crinkling of my eyes, it was gone. I'd imagined it.

I relaxed. If Remus didn't get home soon, I was sure to go insane.

I lit up the kitchen and dug around in the old pantry. I leaned to look under the shelves, and then found what I was looking for: a tall and old wine bottle. Drinking was extremely rare for me, but sometimes I did like a bit of mead. I hadn't been sleeping well lately, with dad's funeral just a bit over a month ago and Remus being gone with the Order so much. I needed to relax.

It was half past one when the little lynx patronus, silver and liquid-like, dropped from thin air in the middle of the kitchen. It opened it's mouth and spoke, with the deep and rumbling voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, "Remus is safe. Do not worry," and then it evaporated as quick as it had come.

I let out a breath. That was Kingsley, no mistaking. So my husband was safe, probably with the Order somewhere. But that's all that mattered.

To break the quiet, I went to the next room to tune the radio, putting on something soft.

But upon returning to the kitchen, I felt my stomach descending, my heart accelerating behind my ribs. On the bar sat two full glasses of mead, sparkling under the light. Beside them, sat the wine bottle, cork gone.

But then I noticed the fingernails. They were long and dirty, the fingers they were attached to tapering from a big hand that drummed them on the countertop idly. From there, my vision panned an arm, strong and muscular looking under a black sleeve, which connected to a massive shoulder, a thick neck; A scarred face with stubble on the chin and sideburns that blended into dark, silver-streaked hair; Dry looking lips split into a smile- no, a grin- leering at me with the most unpleasant expression; eyes with thick, pale irises and vivid pupils met my own- and then the shock registered.

"Hullo, darling," a low and gruff voice rasped, his voice just as chilling as Remus had described. Looking into this man's eyes, I knew this was the brute that had bitten my husband; The werewolf from his childhood: Fenrir Greyback.

authors note: I didn't like how I ended this, so I'm going to go back and maybe add more, or something... Review? :D