Prologue

It was raining. The fog on the glass made it hard to see the outside world from where Hermione stood in one of the top rooms in Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The brunette witch could barely make out the shadow as it crossed the street and wouldn't have noticed it at all if the bright yellow hair didn't stand out against the black pavement of the street. Something was going on between Tonks and Remus, not that Hermione needed to watch the former disapparate from the street corner to know that.

Though they tried to do it quietly, Tonks and Remus had been arguing for a few days and the tension that had building up between them was thick enough to cut with a butter knife. From what Hermione could make of it, it sounded like they were arguing over marriage and children. Strangely, it was Remus who was ready to settle down and begin starting a family and Tonks felt like he was cornering her and trying to tie her down and she was just not ready for that.

Hermione let out a long breath and turned toward her door. No doubt Remus would be leaving to chase after Tonks and Hermione would be alone in the house once again. Harry and Ron were away on a two-month stakeout with the rest of their auror squad, the Weasleys were at home, probably asleep in their beds as it was rather late into the night, and all of the teachers that normally used the Order as a headquarters were too busy with the new term to even stop by to say hello.

Her feet landed softly on the stone stairs as she made her way quietly to the kitchen. She swiped away a few strands of hair that had fallen out of her messy bun and squinted her large chocolate eyes through the darkness. As she approached the kitchen door, she heard a cup crash to the floor and a muttered curse. Startled, Hermione took a few steps backward but, gathering herself once more, eventually made it to the door, pushing it open slightly. She peeked in and saw a form hunching over the sink, broken glass scattered all over the floor. Hermione knew almost immediately that the figure by the sink was Remus, without the flash of sandy blonde hair or scarred up arms.

Pushing the door open completely, Hermione stepped into the kitchen. The creak of the door caught the man's attention and he turned toward her, running a hand hastily through his hair in an attempt to make himself more presentable. Hermione could tell by the feeling in the air, however, that they cup had not accidentally fallen. The rigidity in the room was enough to let Hermione know that the wolf inside of Remus had taken temporary hold of his senses and he had slammed the cup down on the ground.

"Hermione…" managed Remus, his eyes following her to the spot on the ground where the cup lay shattered. He bent over quickly and began to pick up the larger pieces of glass.

"I heard a cup break…I was worried…" whispered Hermione, making her way hesitantly around the long table toward the older man to help him clean up.

"I'm sorry," he replied, ignoring the blood dripping from his fingers as he cut one. Noticing Hermione's slow, barefooted approach he looked up. "Stop." She did. "You aren't wearing shoes. You'll hurt yourself."

He threw the glass in his hands in a dustbin. Hermione picked up his wand from the counter where it lay, discarded. With a flick of her wrist the glass on the ground flew up and into the dustbin as well. Remus nodded slightly and turned to the sick to wash his fingers. He fumbled slightly with the faucet knobs, the blood on his left hand fingers making his grasp slippery. After letting warm water run over the injury for a few minutes, Hermione drew near to him and took his hurt hand in her own. She picked up his wand again and ran the tip of it over the cuts, watching as they seemed to zip up.

Hermione had finished her medi-witch apprenticeship six months prior and had taken up healing the injuries of those who were out fighting the war and stopped in at Grimmauld for a night. Her skills were seldom used as it seemed the Dark War had come to a slow patch and few tussles and casualties were reported. It had been two months since there had even been a sighting of Death Eaters. It was almost too quiet for the Order's liking but, with neither a tip or a trace as to where the enemy was, they could do nothing.

"Thanks…" muttered Remus, pulling his hand away.

"It's nothing," replied Hermione, sitting down in a chair by the table. A silence fell between them and Remus pulled out a chair as well, looking at the places on his hands where previously there had been bleeding wounds. After what felt like hours on quiet, Hermione opted to break the awkwardness.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Silence again.

"No," he whispered, his voice so quiet that Hermione almost had to strain to hear it. "It's the same as it always is. The only difference is…this time she isn't coming back." Hermione opened her mouth in distress but Remus silenced her by shaking his head. "I don't mean she isn't coming back here. She won't abandon us, Hermione. But she isn't coming back to me. I don't blame her and it's better this way. There is no common ground between us. I am old, she is young. She's carefree and I worry all the time. She is a metamorphmagus and I…I am what I am…"

He trailed off. Hermione reached across and placed her hand atop his where it sat on the table. He flinched slightly but did not pull away. He looked up into her face and chocolate eyes were met with amber ones and a conversation told place between them without any word needing to be said. He looked away abruptly and stood up from his seat, startling Hermione slightly.

"It's late," he said finally, turning toward the kitchen door that lead down to the cellar, which Remus had taken up as a home. He shuffled across the floor and Hermione made no move to stop him. She was unaware of his eyes darting to the window as the rain ceased and the clouds began to clear. "Good night."

"Good night," she replied, moving toward the counter on which sat the teapot.

She let out a long sigh as she heard the cellar door click shut. She was beginning to make herself a cup of soothing tea when something permeated her train of thought. At first she wasn't sure she had heard it and continued stirring the teabag in her cup. She lifted it to her lips to take a long draw when she heard a long, loud, heart-wrenching cry echo from the basement and it took Hermione less than a second to understand why Remus had excused himself so abruptly. She heard a body slam against a wall and winced. Normally she was in her room when the full moon rolled around, afraid to see, even hear the effect it had on one of her dearest friends. Upon hearing it, she was glad for that decision and wished that she were in her room at that moment.

A long, high, baleful howl ripped through the silence of the kitchen and Hermione nearly dropped her cup. She shivered as she could feel sadness rippling through her body as if that one vocalization had been all of the emotion escaping from Remus's body. There was another loud crashing sound. Hermione could tell now that he was slamming himself against the cellar door. Again. And again. The last time, he let out a yelp and she heard him fall to the floor.

"I can't take it!" she cried, getting to her feet and shuffling toward the cellar door.

Her feet took her down the long, cracked staircase and she could faintly make out the sound of whining that reminding Hermione of an injured dog, making her heart break even more. She wondered, briefly, if Remus would be mad at her for coming into the cellar when he was like this or if she was going to regret it. Before she could dwell on it anymore, her hand was on the knob and she was thinking on whether or not he would lock his door. She turned the knob and nearly jumped back when it opened to her.

The room was dark and she ventured in slowly, her eyes adjusting slightly to the small amount of moonlight that filtered in through a shaded window. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin when the door slammed behind her. She could sense something behind her, feel the hot breath on her neck, and smell the scent of dominance and musk. Two large, clawed hands wrapped around her arms and lifted her off the ground. She tensed in his grasp and closed her eyes tightly as he turned her toward him. She was afraid, terrified, and wasn't sure what she had expected to begin with.

In an instant she was thrown up against the wall, harshly, a small cry emanating from her throat, though it sounded strangled. She felt his breath on her neck again as he took in her scent with a long draw. He seemed almost intoxicated by it. She felt him pull her away from the wall, a little more gently than he had forced her up against it, and pushed her down onto the bed that undoubtedly belonged to Remus. She ventured an eye open, her heart pounding and her knees quivering. She could make out the massive outline of the wolf above her, one hand holding him up against a wall as he surveyed her. His amber eyes glinted in the small amount of moonlight, though that was all she could make out of him.

And then he was upon her.

He was not terribly rough. His clawed hands, which were still very much hands though they seemed a bit calloused, gripped her sides as he pressed something against her leg. She gasped, knowing full well what it was and very startled by it. Her breath quickened slightly as she felt his claws grip the fabric of her shirt and rip it clean open, exposing her to him. She shivered violently and threw her head back as each of hands took a breast, caressing them slightly, squeezing them a bit too hard every now and then. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck for a moment as a hand trailed away from her chest and pulled her pajama pants and underwear away from her body as well. She cowered away from him for a moment and then felt him settling in behind her, his hands running over her shoulders and arms in an almost human gesture to comfort her. This amazed her as she had always known werewolves to be the violent kind. They took what they wanted, any way they felt necessary.

He maneuvered her onto her stomach, still rubbing her arms and back. After a moment of this, he took her hips with his hands, pulling her lower abdomen up and into the air. She could feel his hot member against her maidenhood and clenched her fists, gritted her teeth, and closed her eyes tightly as she felt him enter her roughly, tearing through her virginity rather savagely. She let out a long cry of agony, the blanket of the bed balled up in her fists.

The night continued on like this until his seed was planted in her and the workings of fate had begun.

A/N: Okay, so here are the details. I took an extended absence as a result of some things and when I returned, unfortunately, I couldn't remember the email I used, having not been on in over two years. So I copied and pasted and here we are. No, I did not steal this from anyone. This is MY story and I want to work on it. I hope everyone will enjoy it how I continue it.