Chapter 28 - Moonstime Part I - Shifting Dynamics


The last of the lingering light had faded as Hermione and Fenrir made their way back to the castle. Hermione glanced at the dark sky, a small corner of it slowly brightening, giving way to the rising of the moon. It concerned her slightly, but she thought they would have enough time to at least return before it rose, not that she knew what she was going to do when it did. It did not seem any less dangerous than before, but she elected to push the thought from her mind.

Hermione was surprised by how far they had run; the lights of the castle were only just beginning to appear in her vision. It didn't seem quite so daunting with Fenrir's aid. She had regained much of her strength as they walked in a comfortable silence. Her mind occasionally went to her sore shoulder; she was amazed that all that remained was a slight ache; he might have bitten it a week ago if she didn't know better.

The couple walked on for a time before Fenrir stopped abruptly. She glanced at him, his gaze was fixed on the rapidly brightening sky beyond them.

"We aren't going to make it."

Hermione stopped and stared at the werewolf, her eyes growing wide.

"Don't worry, you'll be safe. I just have to—" Fenrir's speech cut off with a grunt, his body shuddering slightly. A sliver of the moon appeared over the horizon, holding Fenrir's attention. He grinned, despite his increasingly labored breath. He took a large gulp of air before speaking again.

"Don't let them see your fear. You—" he groaned slightly, his breath heaving. "You are their alpha; act like it, even if you don't feel it."

The werewolf's groan quickly became a growl as the moon continued to rise over the hills. His amber eyes caught the light and shone brightly in the dissipating darkness. Fenrir shuddered once more, shaking his head as though to clear it. He quickly relieved his upper body of his shirt, it falling to a crumpled heap in front of him, forgotten as soon as it left his hands.

"Don't— go near the cubs. They—"

Hermione watched in horror as an unnatural shudder rolled down Fenrir's spine. She grimaced as the bone moved underneath his skin, nearly covering her ears at the sickening sound of shifting sinew.

"They will bite you. The don't know any better."

Hermione nodded, not thinking that it would mean nothing to the werewolf; he was not even looking in her direction. Her heart was pounding; this was it. This was the night she would truly find out how much of what Fenrir told her was true. She was not looking forward to it. She wanted to run, but she knew that was a bad idea. Her aching legs could have told her that much.

As if sensing her thoughts, Fenrir spoke once more, "Don't run. I— won't— stop—" His speech faded into a full growl, all coherent words gone.

The witch glanced wildly at the moon, now half of its shining form brightened the landscape. She did not know what to do. There was nothing she could do. Her only option was to trust Fenrir, and hope that he was right. When she tore her gaze away from the moon and back toward the werewolf, he had already discarded the majority of his clothing and was doubled over, his bones bent in ways that should not have been possible.

Hermione watched Fenrir fall to his knees, his back arched upward as he continued to fall deeper into the moon's pull. She did not want to watch, but she was too frightened to look away as his body shifted. Fenrir's bones twisted and popped, his whole body distorted. Fur sprouted along his back and down his limbs until he was covered in it. As bad as watching the deformation was, hearing it was worse. Fenrir's growl did not cease, but even with the other noises, Hermione could hear his bones crack and his joints pop with every move he made.

After a time, it seemed far too long to Hermione, but it could not have been more than a few minutes since it began, a fully-formed werewolf stood in front of her. He shook himself thoroughly, lifting up a leg to scratch behind his head briefly before throwing his head back to let out a long, clear howl. Hermione's gaze only momentarily flickered in the direction of the castle as a chorus of distant howls arose from the same direction. Seemingly satisfied, he turned toward Hermione, his familiar amber eyes glowing eerily in the moonlight.

Hermione swallowed, not daring to move. She drew a deep breath as he padded toward her, his huge paws making no noise on the moorland vegetation. She froze when he reached her, too afraid to even breath. He was massive; she was certain his size put non-magical wolves to shame. She was too scared to have any grasp on an accurate measurement, but he did not have to stretch up to nuzzle her waist with the side of his head.

Hermione did not know what to do; Fenrir seemed to be recognizing her just fine, but the last thing she wanted to do was set him off. She thought it best to keep her movements calm and still. Which turned out to be impossible when the werewolf nudged her harshly. She stumbled and nearly fell into the heather. She stared at him with wide eyes, her whole body tense. He stared back at her, sitting back on his haunches with what she could only describe as a grin on his muzzle. She eyed him warily, but followed suit, sitting gently on the heather.

Fenrir stood and walked over to her, placing his face on her cheek to give her another gentle nuzzle. His fur was soft and warm, somehow comforting her as the werewolf rested his head on her shoulder. She smiled, a little less nervous.

The werewolf stood there for only a few moments. He drew his head back and sat on his haunches once more; looking down at her with his bright eyes. Another dog-like grin made its way onto his face as he leaned toward her.

Hermione gasped indignantly when the werewolf's tongue ran up her cheek. "Fenrir! That's disgusting!" She wiped away the saliva that was clearly canine and frowned at him. He did not look even remotely sorry; in fact, he looked rather proud of himself, his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a dog. She rolled her eyes at his apparent ease.

Fenrir cocked his head to the side before laying next to her, his head resting just short of her hand. His tongue darted out gently, licking the tip of her finger.

She frowned at him, unsure of his intention.

He nudged her hand with his nose, wagging his tail slowly. When she did not respond, he let out a soft yip and tried to wiggle his head underneath her hand.

Hoping she understood what he wanted, Hermione rested her hand in his warm fur. Timidly, she gave him a gentle scratch behind the ears. He leaned into her touch briefly before standing once more. He turned toward the castle, obviously looking for something, or seeing something Hermione could not. He let out another howl, this time the response was nearly instantaneous; and close.

Hermione's heart rate jumped again at the sight of the rest of the pack loping toward them in the moonlight. Her first reaction was to hide behind Fenrir, but he did not allow her to stay there. He nudged her, gently at first, and then more forcefully when she did not react. Recalling what he had said, she grit her teeth and stood; trembling at the sight before her. She gripped a handful of Fenrir's fur and sighed quietly when he allowed it. She took a deep breath and walked forward with the werewolf to meet the pack.

A large wolf with bright green eyes approached them, his head bowed slightly. Hermione looked at Fenrir, but she could not tell what he was thinking. Something seemed to pass between the two wolves as their bodies shifted and ears twitched. After only a moment, the smaller wolf flanked Hermione's other side, rubbing up against her, as though begging for attention. Hesitant, but more confidant than she had been moments before, she pet the newcomer lightly on the head. That seemed to satisfy him and he walked with her and Fenrir as they continued to make their way back toward the castle.

Hermione could not help but watch the werewolves interact as they passed; they seemed to organize themselves into groups somehow. She was curious to know if they were the same groups they tended to live in. Glancing at Fenrir, she made a note to ask him once he was capable of speech again.

The werewolves were not quiet. There was romping and playing, never without growling or the occasional bark. Hermione lost track of the sounds she heard; some she did not even have a word for. She had finally begun to relax when a loud yelp pierced over the other sounds. The witch jumped and tightened her grip on Fenrir's fur, trying to see where the sound had come from; it was not a happy sound. He continued to walk, seemingly unconcerned.

It was not long after when they reached the castle doors. Mensis darted off stopped. Hermione tried to turn toward him, but he nudged her forward, toward the large doors. He took a step back and stared at her intently. She nodded in understanding, seeing no room for argument in his eyes. She did not particularly want to leave the werewolf's side. She trusted him, to keep her safe from himself and others; she had no idea what could happen. He seemed unconcerned enough that she just took a deep breath and did as he requested. She turned to close the doors behind her; Fenrir was already gone.


A/N: =3 A bit short this week, but totally worth it. Don't worry, there's much more drama to come. Cheers~