The jaws above him dripped drool, reminding Ron unpleasantly of Fluffy. Ron was frozen, unable to move, unable to think with fear. Hot breath ran along his face; its putrid smell invaded his nose as he breathed in short gasps. From somewhere beside him, he heard Hermione yell.

"Immobulus!" The werewolf only shrugged off the spell. It didn't even glance in the direction the spell came from; it was too focused on Ron.

The werewolf seemed to smile maliciously. Then it lowered its head, jaws open, ready to tear at Ron. Ron laid there, pupils dilated with terror, hot fear burning under his skin. He couldn't move. His limbs seemed paralyzed.

As the werewolf came closer, the strange paralysis disappeared. He struck out, blindly, trying to stop the werewolf. With a lucky shot, he smacked James on the nose. The werewolf howled and slashed at him with a paw. Its claws raced across his chest, pulling hot, searing pain with them. Ron gasped with a mix of pain and fear. This was it. He was going to die.

The werewolf, now furious, bent down to tear into him.

Ron closed his eyes. This is how it's going to end. He was going to be torn to shreds by his best mate's father. A hysterical laugh bubbled up inside of him, but his dry throat would allow nothing to pass through. Hermione was standing helplessly beside of him, fear holding her in place. Suddenly, the heat from the werewolf's breath disappeared, and seconds later, there was a loud thump. Ron tore open his eyes to see another werewolf. At first, his face paled with the implication of another werewolf bent on killing all of them.

Then he realized it was Lupin, and Lupin had used Wolfsbane.

Trying to scramble away, he found that his left leg refused to support him. There was no pain as adrenaline pumped through him. Crawling rather than walking, Ron moved to Hermione as fast as he could.

"We – we have to," Hermione gasped, still fearful.

"Come on," Ron hissed, and he pulled himself to his feet. Moving as quickly as possible, they made it into Shell Cottage. Hermione was supporting Ron as they awkwardly hopped

As soon as Ron passed through the door, pain exploded through his leg. Hermione – who had still been supporting Ron – staggered under his weight. Together, they both crashed to the floor with a loud bang.

"Ah!" Hermione gasped.

"What is zat? 'Oo is zair?" Fleur ran out into the hallway, wand out before her. She had apparently believed that someone – or something – had gotten inside.

"Ron? Hermione?" Fleur said, seeing them in a pile on the floor. Hermione groaned once more and stood.

"What 'appened?" Fleur asked, bewildered. Hermione thought for a moment, and then her eyes widened as something occurred to her.

"Harry! He – he never came inside! Ron and I went out to look for him, but we couldn't find him!" Fleur looked panicked for a moment, but then it changed to confusion.

"No," she said. "'Arry is upstairs. Bill is with 'im."

"But – but," Hermione said. "We never saw him come in." Fleur scowled with annoyance.

"If you 'adn't left, then you would 'ave. 'Arry came in not ten minutes ago." Ron was trying to struggle to his feet. Hermione and Fleur finally glanced down at him, and at the same time, both rushed over to help him. There was a red stain seeping into his shirt from three long scratches.

"Ai!" Fleur gasped. "You were not bitten, were you?" Ron shook his head, appearing faint. His eyes focused on something behind both girls as they moved him to the couch. Hermione saw him shake his head a few times; he was trying to clear it. Fleur was lifting his shirt to the see the wound.

Immediately upon seeing it, she burst into action.

"'Ermione," she ordered, calm and in the composed, serene trance of a healer. "Go get Bill. 'E will know what to do." Hermione nodded and ran up the stairs, two at a time. Her heart was beating furiously, and a stitch was growing in her side, but she did not notice because her thoughts were consumed by Ron. The cuts were bad from the werewolf's claws.

She shook her head, even as she raced up the stairs (Merlin, was she running in slow motion? It seemed to be taking forever.) Finally, she burst into Harry's room. Bill and Harry both turned to her, mouths open with shock. Hermione had a faint idea of what she might look like. She was wheezing, her hair was strewn ever which way, and her clothes were streaked with some of Ron's blood.

"Werewolf… Ron… Hurt," she managed to gasp out. For a moment longer, Bill and Harry just stood there. The time ran faster than ever as the two processed Hermione's few, gasped words. Then, together, they both raced forward, running through the doorway, barely avoiding Hermione, and racing down the stairs. Less than a second later, Hermione was running after them.

Arriving back to the room where Ron was laying, Hermione saw that Bill already had his wand out and was whispering spells. Relief flooded her, so strong that she felt her knees go weak. Finally, she staggered to a chair and collapsed into it.

Her breath began to slowly calm down as she took in deep gulps of air that burnt her dry throat. Hermione couldn't see Ron from where she was sitting; Bill was in the way. As soon as her breath was slightly calmer, she went to get up. Unfortunately, this caused a wave of nausea to sweep over her. Hermione sat back down, not content to watch from far away but also not wishing to be sick.

She could hear Ron's breathing from where she was sitting. It was heavy and uneven. The logical part of her mind was remembering the amount of blood and thinking that it was good that he was breathing at all. (Though, that might still be a slight exaggeration) While the emotional part of her mind, (which was, unfortunately, the stronger of the two voices) was sobbing heavily and begging Ron to be okay. Hermione found a nice compromise: crying silently. It was, admittedly, much better than sobbing; though, Hermione wished she could have been a slight bit stronger and able to help.

It seemed unfair that Ron was the one to get injured badly, especially since it was the second time.

She had been so guilty the first time; it had been her fault, no doubt. She would bet that if Harry knew they were looking for him – and he would, only an idiot wouldn't realize – then he'd feel ridiculously guilty.

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Harry stared down at his best mate. Ron was paler than normal, but he was also rapidly gaining color from Bill's treatment. It was good that Bill knew so much about healing.

It was also sad that he needed to. Harry knew Ron would be all right; after all, what was a couple of deep scratches compared to the Cruciatus curse?

Why had Ron been out there? He – and Hermione – had had no reason to.

Unless…

They were searching for him. He'd been the one outside, and they knew it. They had tried to find him, and Ron had gotten hurt.

Ron had gotten hurt.

Ron had gotten hurt… trying to help him.

At once, guilt flooded through him, and he bit his lip. Harry could remember Ron's words from earlier – Merlin, that wasn't that long ago – when sixth year ended.

"And then we'll go with you, wherever you're going." Back then, it had meant a lot. Now, it meant more than words could say.

Harry, his own face now pale, stared down at Ron. Now, Ron was breathing more evenly, and his eyes were starting to flutter open once again.

"Ron?" he asked desperately. "You okay, mate?"

"Yeah," Ron said in a hoarse voice. "'M fine. Are… you okay… Harry?" Already, his voice was blurred by exhaustion. Harry could remember the days spent that Ron would have large bags under his eyes from his injury.

"I'm fine, Ron," Harry said, looking at his best friend. He'd been injured by both Harry and James. Apparently, the entire Potter family was out to get Ron.

Harry glanced at one of the large windows, and he saw the early morning sun beginning to peek out through the clouds. It was a sight he welcomed after the long night.

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The werewolf ran, jaws snapping at nothing as his beady eyes observed the fading moon. His instincts said that he had little time left. He had been sorely disappointed this night. His prey had escaped – twice! One of the times it had been cowering under him, blood welling in its wounds. Yet, it had still escaped. The werewolf's straggly, silver fur snagged at the underbrush as he pelted far away from the small cottage. He wanted to run as far as he could before the change began, and he wanted to finally have some peace from the other werewolf. The brown, large wolf had beaten him with strength. Though, he had lacked the blood thirst of a normal werewolf; there was something wrong with him. He had tried to protect the prey – both times.

The werewolf snarled, imagining the prey beneath his jaws, being torn to pieces by his teeth. Glancing up at the3 moon, he noticed that he had mere moments before the change began. He let out a howl of frustration, which quickly melted into pained screams as his bones twisted and popped, reforming a human body.

He was trapped, and his freedom was gone until the moon shone once more.

James blinked open his eyes and saw the early morning sunlight. Groaning in pain, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to sleep.

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Hey guys. How's it going with everyone?

Please read and review! Full moon is over, and Ron is okay. What will happen next? Give me some ideas; I'm open to suggestions.

For once I didn't leave you a cliffhanger! Wow.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. Which doesn't matter because this is Harry Potter. (That's what happens when you are watching a movie while you type.) I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you to all my old reviewers!