*Song Recommendation: Safe & Sound (Taylor Swift)*

Consequences

The moon was calling and still Ardolf had not come. Remus was swiftly becoming more and more agitated; his breathing became more rapid, his responses to Hermione's questions more aggressive, his threats to the alpha more murderous. His feet kept him occupied by endlessly pacing the parameters of the tent as eyes tracked his prowling defensively from what little shelter of a corner was to be found by their owner. Hermione implicitly knew that something was wrong. She let her eyes momentarily flicker to the small crack between tent flaps. It was dusk. Still, nobody came.

A sharp inhale from Remus immediately drew her attention back to what little of the man was left, her heart rate increasing exponentially at the realization of what could prompt such a drastic and expedited change.

"We do not change in camp borders. Alpha calls, wolves gather. Moon calls, wolves run, wolves sing to her... Alpha has not called..."

Moony was already fighting to take over, it seemed, as the simplicity of instinct overhauled Remus' penchant for dignified yet delicate speech. Remus shook his head violently, trying to maintain his rational's hold on his brain for just a little longer as he rushed to the tent's entrance to peer out at the camp.

"They have already left. I don't know what game Ardolf is intending to play, but you must stay here. I will ward this tent with everything I know, my full artillery, but it is too late to get you out, I'm sorry."

And with that he was gone... or he was supposed to be. The strength of his departure resulted in his restless form being flung backwards with two-fold as much. Hermione's gasp of realization was strangled by her throat restricting in unadulterated panic. She was trapped.

"No. NO. No-no-no-no-no!" Flashes of colored lights bolted so quickly from Remus' wand, she was certain his murmurings and spells were counted and matched, curse for cast, they were both so rapid. His feet were nearly dancing in their desperate attempt to flee from his promised Hell. It was no graceful Swan Lake, no metered Tchaikovsky, but a flurried Stravinsky. Hermione couldn't help but allow a wholly inappropriate giggle to pass through her colorless lips as her mind, subjugated by the oppressive reality of her own mortality, circled her back to safe, rainy days spent nestled between her parents watching a frazzled ballerina in red slippers dance her way to her own demise before gratefully welcoming the reprieve that was her own death. She closed her eyes, ignoring Remus' frenzied footwork, and she was transported. She no longer inhaled the stench of feral living, but caught wafts of sugar-free biscuits cooked just a little too long. Winter's bite was replaced by the quilted blanket lovingly sewn from childhood rompers and swaddles. The movement around her held no promise of imminent death, but instead was the muted reflection of the telly casting dancing puppet-like shadows on the sheltering innocence of her home. When the memories were being lived she had left her parents' embrace only to dance around the lounge, imagining a pair of red shoes adorning her own feet.

She didn't want to dance anymore.

Awakening from her enticingly sweet dream world, she slowly rose to her feet, traversing the short distance to the pacing werewolf before her.

"Remus." She whispered, unsuccessfully drawing him from his feud with the wards. "Remus!" She tried again, louder and forcefully.

His eyes and wand stayed poised at the door, but the view of silent tears streaming down his face was entirely unobscured.

"They must be blood wards, Hermione, I can't- I can't- Hermione I can't..."

"Shhh... Remus." She cooed as she pushed his wand arm down, taking it's place has her hands cradled his face. She had never been so close to him, she'd always felt propriety demanded she treat him as her professor, no matter that she'd always felt a certain kinship toward him... not that it mattered now. "It's okay, Remus. I understand what's going to happen and I'm- you, YOU, will be okay. You will continue on, complete your mission, and go home to your wife."

"Hermione, you know that I ca-"

"Yes, you can, Remus. Because it's not only what needs to be done, but because you you would never betray my last wishes."

"Why are you doing this, Hermione? How are you okay with this?"

"Because I'm- well, I'm 'greeting death like an old friend."

Her resolve was breaking as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. She wouldn't allow it, she wouldn't. Her hands slid down to Remus' neck as she pressed her lips to his forehead.

"Remus, the man, will never need my forgiveness, but I give it to Moony freely. You never know, I may have already changed something."

"I don't understa-"

His words were replaced by a whimper as his eyes blazed amber.

The change was upon them.

Remus' hands came to meet hers at his neck, trying to rid himself of her touch as he began shifting. Claws pushed through his nail beds, slashing through the flesh of her hands. Still she did not let go.

"It's okay, Remus. I forgive you. Go home to your wife. Your son needs you."

Inhuman sounds were bursting from his chest as strangled cries ripped through his throat, but he seemed to almost vibrate upon the mention of his son.

"Your son, Remus."

His pulse thrummed amid his shifting.

"Yes, Remus, it's a son. He's beautiful."

Her voice was raising as he began towering over her, bearing down on her by her wrists.

"He's a metamophagis, just like his mother. I was told his hair was changing so often after he was born that Tonks had no idea what color it really was for days after."

Tufts of hair were sprouting from Remus' skin, but still Hermione went on.

"His favorite color is turquoise hair, he's just so happy all the time. Teddy. That's his name. Teddy. Make it home to Teddy, Remus... Moony. Your pup needs you, your son-"

Teeth sunk deep into her throat, scratching, but not puncturing, her jugular, disallowing further speech. Howling filled the air around them, a hauntingly beautiful melody, a death march.

I didn't get to finish telling him. He'll never get to know how beautiful he is, how he laughs when you dance with him, how he nestles into you when you sing to him, how he's restless on a full moon but quiets if you set him in her light.

Hermione felt Moony's jaws latch once more to her flesh, tearing the flesh and muscle of her shoulder, snapping her clavicle bone.

Darkness encroached on her vision. Her lungs were underfed. Her body had become numb. Still she refused to cry and instead allowed her eyelids to forever close.

I forgive you, Remus.

I'm so sorry, Harry.