Disclaimer: Not mine! nope. No claim here, move along.

A/N: Finally got around to editing/revising this wonderful little piece (01/02/14) for my AO3 account. I really don't know what compelled me to write this particular paring, but I sure hope you guy's enjoy my dark little fic on them. My muse has an odd way of shoving strange plot bunnies into my brain. I do remember writing this to Christina Aguilera - Walk Away.

She would never be able to truly explain what it was about him that had her so addicted, had her so hooked on him. She felt like she needed him in her life, regardless of how wrong it was. He fit her so perfectly, he was her second half. The half that completed the woman and not the nieve girl. The half that was to be her sick undoing in this wretched world.

'I've signed my soul away' she thought silently, as her bare feet walked across underbrush and damp dirt. She was dressed in her flimsy white cotton night gown, her hair wild and unruly as it was whisped around by the wind. He seemed to like her that way, even though she knew deep down that she was anything but innocent anymore.

She knew it was wrong - that was partially why she did it. She had somehow rationalized in her mind that this was exactly what she needed, what she craved. They weren't going to win the war, she wasn't dense. She needed an ace in the hole, a security blanket so to speak. Something that would ensure her survival in this world if her assumptions of loosing turned out to be correct.

Her ace was him.

It was a clear and calm night the first time she went to him. He had nearly killed her on sight, with good reason she supposed. Somehow they had found a way to come to terms: she would be his, and he would protect her. Hermione just hadn't been prepared for what 'being his' had fully entailed. Now it was hurting her soul because she couldn't seem to let him go. She was sure that even if she tried to walk away from him, that she would be unsuccessful. So sad, but so true.

"I knew you would come," His harsh and husky whisper came from behind her, from somewhere in the darkness and foliage. She didn't flinch, didn't even turn to acknowledge him. She tried not to lean her body into his touch when she felt her hair being drawn to one side, but as always was unsuccessful. He was directly behind her and she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin. "Such a wanton witch." He whispered into her ear, before grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her roughly to face him.

Her heart seemed to stop as her soft eyes met his pure silver ones. His emotions were always so intense, and they made her feel so dead. He appeared to have so much to live for, so many feelings. It was like he had lived life to the fullest extent possible, like he had surpassed the rest of them and found his true place in the world and reveled in it. It was in his eyes that she knew who she really was - and that person was more terrifying than Voldemort could have ever hoped to become.

"Are you ready for tonight my love?" He asked her with a wicked smile. The term 'love' coming from him was not an endearment, in fact it was far from it. For him It was a sign of possession and ownership, as if she were an object to be owned instead of a person. She often wondered if Remus was just like him deep down in his heart. She shook the thoughts away and nodded her head solemnly. "Good." He acknowledged, before drawing her into a demanding bruising open mouthed kiss. A kiss that she returned with a feverish need as desire pooled deep in her loins. She returned it with the same passion that a heroin addict worshiped the needle with. He was her supplier, her drug, and her addiction. She needed this fix - craved it.

She knew something was wrong and different, that she should probably run away from him, the moment his kiss turned from violent to soft and tender instead. She knew in her heart that tonight was a mistake as soon as he gently guided her back into a nearby tree. She knew she was about to break as his fingers grazed lightly down her arms. He wasn't just fucking her anymore, he wasn't just owning her anymore. No, it seemed that tonight he was planning on making love to her.

That thought was horrifying.

As he moved his light kisses to the exposed column of her neck, she leaned her head back against the bark and looked up into the canopy. It felt like all her walls were caving in, and it wouldn't matter anymore what she tried to do because she knew that she would just come right back to him. She could see the moon begin to turn full and that was when it hit her, tonight was the full moon.

She could feel him chuckle against her breast as his hands slipped under her nightgown, exposing her supple and willing flesh - she was already wet for him. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she realized what all her steps had led to, it eventually added up to tonight, perhaps the biggest mistake of her life. She didn't try to move away from him as realization set in, and for this he seemed exceptionally pleased.

"My whore." He murmured with a dark chuckle. Now, contrary to the word love, the word whore was said with much endearment and reverence. In all their encounters she could never once recall him calling her a whore. True, he had used the words slut, bitch, cunt, tramp and countless other degrading references, but never once had he called her a whore until now. His whore - she couldn't deny it. Wasn't even sure anymore if she wanted to.

She let out a sharp gasp of pain as his teeth sunk into the sensitive flesh of her dainty wrist. She hadn't even realized he had pulled her hand to his mouth until she felt the skin break - having been so lost in thought. She watched in morbid fascination as the blood smeared around his lips while he drew her lifes essence in. When he held his wrist up to her mouth, she obliged in kind. With a hint of shame she realized she hadn't even hesitated in the following the unspoken request.

Her eyes slid shut as the coppery liquid slipped past her lips and down her throat. He had claimed her as his mate. She wasn't a daft girl, she had read plenty of books on werewolf's and lycanthropy when she had discovered Professor Lupin's condition.

His transformation was tonight. Tonight was the night that he would make her one of his kind. Tonight was the night that she would never be able to walk away ever, she would never see her friends again in the same capacity. She was sure that after tonight she would be on the opposite side during the final battle. His wolf would be able to recognize his mate, and in turn she would be bit when the wolf realized his mate wasn't like him. It was inevitable, it was unfightable.

"I love you." She whispered to him as his transformation began to take place and he fell to the ground screaming in pain as the bones broke and skin stretched. She wasn't sure if he heard her admission, but she knew that it wouldn't matter. She let herself slide to the ground before his quivering form, subcomming to her fate.

She was his ace.

Little did she know that she would be the key to the end of the war in their favor. Potter would never know what hit him. She would become the proverbial last straw on the camels back.

And she would be a glorious werewolf.

There you have it, please be kind and remember to Read and Review ;)

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