CONTENT WARNING: please scroll to ending author's notes if you would like to read the warning ahead of time.

Chapter 95: Saturday, April 27, 2002

"You can't get to better days unless you make it through the night."

-Diane Reeves

Remus had hoped he would've gotten used to the taste of the Wolfsbane potion by now, but that didn't seem like it would happen anytime soon. With every passing day, and every dose of the potion, he could feel Moony receding further back into the recesses of his mind. The wolf had barely made a comment on anything over the last week—he hadn't even come to the surface to insult Remus or flash his gold irises to Hermione, his two seemingly favorite things to do.

It was strange—Moony being quiet. And, though Remus would never admit it aloud, there had been a few moments where Remus nearly missed the running commentary of his wolfish counterpart. He wondered if, after the full moon, he would pay for drugging the beast in his head. It seemed likely that Moony would go out of his way to punish Remus for trying to quiet him. But, then again, if he kept his mind about him after his transformation he would allow Moony to be angry with him.

It would be worth the headache, and subsequent tongue lashing, if he didn't have to fear that he would rip everyone to shreds.

Possibly pissy inner wolf aside, he was incredibly nervous for the moon this month. Partially, because of the potion—he wasn't exactly sure what to expect—but also because of the less than ideal location that he would transform in. The attic.

Hermione and Harry had agreed that if he was in control of himself, they saw no reason to lock him away anywhere else. They both trusted Draco's brewing abilities wholly, which meant he couldn't really find a decent argument aside from just being uncomfortable with it. When voicing this concern, Hermione suggested placing a slew of wards and silencing charms over the area to help ease his mind.

Unexpectedly, it was Bill who showed up to place the charms. Remus couldn't believe his eyes when Bill asked Remus to show him the attic. Apparently, little, ornery Bill Weasley had grown up to be a bloody cursebreaker. He assured Remus he would be able to place wards that couldn't be broken by anyone or anything.

"You know," Bill began, as he walked the perimeter of the attic, waving his wand every few steps. "I remember you from when I was a kid. It's kind of weird to have you here now, looking like you did when you would sneak biscuits to me and Charlie before dinner."

"Yeah," Remus agreed. "I mean, the last I saw you lot, you were...what? Eight? And now you're older than me. It's fucking strange."

Bill laughed. "I'm not sure how to say it—the other you? The older you that I knew?"

"Professor Lupin, that's how Harry differentiates," Remus suggested.

"Professor Lupin, then," Bill smiled. "He, er—you, helped me a lot when I got attacked," he brought his hand up to his face, waving his fingers toward the gnarled scars that slashed through his brow and cheek, ending at his jaw "I wasn't turned, but it gave me what you called 'wolfish tendencies'. I never thanked you properly for helping me through that. For talking with Fleur and helping us adjust."

Remus felt incredibly awkward, like he was taking credit for something he hadn't done. "I'm sure it was nothing."

"No," Bill insisted. "It wasn't nothing. You helped everyone all the time and never asked for help in return. I don't know what's going to happen, I assume you'll have to go back to your own time eventually, but I just wanted to tell you that you can ask for help. No one will think less of you, mate."

Remus shifted slightly, forgetting his height and smacking his head against the low hanging rafters in the attic. He winced and rubbed the spot, trying to think of something to say. "I'm sure you would have done the same," he decided on.

"Maybe," Bill agreed. "But, the point is that you did it. So, thanks."

Silence fell between them as Bill continued to lay the wards in the attic, the sound from below slowly fading away as he erected silencing charms. When Bill was finished, he explained that only Hermione would be able to open the trap door and in the morning she would come get him. Remus thanked Bill again, a firm handshake between them, and sat on the camp bed as the door slammed closed.

It was getting closer to moonrise, and Remus could feel the incessant itching of his skin as it began to feel like fire ants were crawling beneath it. He felt restless, pacing the small room and sitting back down on the camp bed, only to stand back up and pace again. He found himself wishing he would have kept his wand with him instead of asking Hermione to hold onto it for him. At least then, he could work on his transfiguration or something—anything to keep his mind off the impending night.

He began to feel incredibly hot, blood boiling and neck sweating. He stripped himself of his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on one of the higher rafters, in hopes of keeping them from getting shredded. He wondered, idly, if the potion would help the pain of the transformation. He knew it was unlikely, but if it could keep his mind in tact—

"Argh!"

So, no then.

He doubled over, the feeling of his spine shifting, forcing him onto his knees. Vertebrae by vertebrae, he could feel each notch of his spine as it dislodged itself from where it should be, elongating and curving, the lowest one forming into the hard whip-like bone that would soon be covered in fur for a tail.

His shoulders twisted and cracked, his collarbone splintered as it warped and moved upward and his ribcage contorted with a series of violent crunching sounds, narrowing and dropping down his torso.

He screamed, unable to stifle the agony any longer, as the bones in his legs buckled and snapped to reform. Every delicate bone in his feet shattered, stitching painfully back together to create elongated, padded paws. His pelvis fragmented, forcing his hips out of socket and his knees bent back at an unnatural angle. He stared down at his own hands as his nails dug into the floor, his fingers rejecting the brittle things in favor of long, sharp claws.

The fur began to sprout, pushing through the bloodied layers of skin, burning and sharp as it tore through every pore. He shrieked again, a mangled, high pitched sound as his skull split apart and his teeth became long and sharp as his jaw broke to reform into a muzzle.

And finally, it was over.

When Remus opened his eyes, he felt clumsy and confused as he tried to stand—quickly realizing he had no idea how to walk in this body. He moved his massive head, eyes scanning the area, as he tried to get acclimated to the weight and feel of his new body. Despite the lack of light, he could see clearly. The colours were warped and wrong—everything a yellow tint—but he could make out the grain of the wood on the walls.

Remus took in a slow, deep breath through his nostrils. He had heightened senses in his human body, but this surpassed that ability by far. He could smell everything. The mud outside, the stew that had been spilled downstairs three days ago, the apple cores rotting in the compost behind the Shack, the potions brewing levels below…

Coconut, jasmine, vanilla.

His eyes fluttered and rolled when the smell of her invaded his nostrils and he heard himself whine. Slowly, he brought himself back to his feet—paws—and tried again to walk. He stumbled a few times, his muzzle coming down hard against the floor before he finally got the rhythm of it down. Right front leg, left hind leg, left front leg, right hind leg. He paced the floor a few times before climbing up onto the camp bed, content to simply curl up and hopefully sleep the night away.

Hermione paced circles in the library, wringing her hands together as her mind supplied her with the terrible memories of seeing Remus transform in the dungeons when they had been captured. Her ears rang with the sounds of his screams, and the fact that the attic was silenced wasn't helping.

"Sit down, 'Mione," Harry muttered, not looking up from the parchment he was scratching a letter into.

"What if it didn't work?" she asked nervously, pausing in her laps to stare at Harry.

"Malfoy brewed it, it will work."

"Yes, but what if—"

Harry sighed, setting down his quill and pulling his glasses from his nose to clean them with the hem of his shirt. "Go up there with him, then."

"I can't. He'd never forgive me," she whined, resuming her worried strides across the length of the library.

"He's in control of himself," Harry reasoned, placing his glasses back on his nose. "Go spend a few hours with him to ease your mind. Just leave before he transforms back and then take him breakfast. No sense in sitting down here, driving yourself mad."

"Or driving all of us mad," Blaise sang, entering the room with a tea tray. He leaned down to press a kiss into the mop of Harry's hair. "Hello, love."

Harry looked up and smiled at him, "Hello. Tea? You're a lifesaver."

Blaise hummed and began pouring the tea, not looking up from the task as he continued to talk. "Besides, it could be bloody useful to have a werewolf that's in control of himself on our side. If the potion works, you might want to observe him and see if he'd be willing to follow orders in that form."

"I can't ask him to do that!" Hermione cried, a bit hysterically. "They used him before because of his lycanthropy, I would never—"

"No, that's not what I'm saying," Blaise interrupted, taking the seat next to Harry and passing him a mug. "I"m not suggesting we throw him to the packs and let him get attacked or something. But, if he's willing, we could use him to track people while he's in wolf form."

"It's not a bad idea," Harry shrugged, "something to think about, at least."

Hermione slowed, folding her arms over her chest, "I don't know…" She trailed off, worrying her bottom lip as her mind whirled at breakneck speeds, considering the plethora of new possibilities a Remus in wolf form could offer. "I'd need to observe him, first...make sure he's okay..."

Harry rolled his eyes and Blaise laughed, "Go on, then."

"He'll be furious with me," Hermione mumbled, her feet already carrying her towards the doorway.

"And when has that ever stopped you from doing anything?" Harry asked, his eyebrows raised into his hairline.

Hermione gave him a deadpanned look that was met with a loud boom of laughter. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Fine. But, if he's angry with me, I'm blaming you two."

"Us? What the hell did we do?" Blaise laughed.

"You convinced me I need to observe him."

"Right," Blaise chuckled, blowing over his steaming tea in a thinly veiled attempt to hide the smirk creeping over his face. "We convinced you. Whatever you gotta tell yourself to help you sleep at night, Granger."

Hermione fought off the urge to shoot him a rather rude hand gesture before making her way out of the library and into the stairwell, climbing the steps to the third floor. From there, she pulled the stool from its hiding place beneath an old occasional table and stepped up, grasping the leather strap and pulling the ladder down from the ceiling, careful to move out of the way to avoid being hit in the face as the wood slid down.

She quickly climbed the rungs, taking a deep breath when she reached the top and pressed her hand against the door. The magic tingled against her skin, hot and numbing as she pushed it open—praying that it wasn't a mistake.

Her head peeked through and she saw him on the camp bed, curled up with his muzzle pressed to his paws. Massive furry head seated comfortably as his breath came in slow pulls, his ears twitching at the sound of her climbing into the room.

"Remus?" she whispered.

She watched his ears perked up, his head slowly rising from its place on the bed. Hermione crept further into the room, trying to calm her nervously beating heart. Even outside of his faculties, she knew Moony wouldn't hurt her, but there was still some anxiety involved when facing a massive werewolf.

His head tilted to one side and he watched her closely, his eyes looking inquisitive as they followed her through the room. She pulled a chair from the dusty table and sat, keeping a good amount of distance between them.

"I know you're probably upset with me for coming here," she began, her fingers twisting into the hem of her shirt. "But, I didn't want you to be alone all night. I know the moons can't have been easy on you over the last six months and even having your own mind...I just didn't want you to feel alone."

He stared at her, slowly moving into a sitting position, his hind legs bent awkwardly beneath him. She could feel the pull in her chest, even stronger now that he was in werewolf form, and she wondered if he could feel it, too. He slowly made his way off the bed and padded over to her, his long limbs moving in unison in a way that looked more puppy-like than Moony had ever moved before. He stood on his back legs, rising up to his full height, nearly scraping the ceiling between the rafters, and tilted his head at her again before hovering over her. She sat completely still, allowing Remus to get his bearings as he sniffed at her—his muzzle pressed in the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

He stayed there for quite some time, some silent agreement passing between them that said 'I'm here and it's okay that you are, too'. Hermione's hands finally came up to stroke the fur on his head, just above his eyes.

"Is this okay?" she asked, knowing he couldn't properly respond.

It was an odd sensation, patting your boyfriend on the head like a dog, but it felt strangely intimate. Something she knew that no one else had ever done, something no one besides her would ever have the opportunity to do. He finally pulled away from her and moved back towards the bed, hopping onto the pathetic excuse of a mattress and pawing at the spot next to him.

Hermione smiled and pulled out her wand, performing the best cushioning spell she could think of before she laid on the bed next to him. Her hand sank into the fur on his neck and his head came to rest on her belly.

"This is strange, isn't it?" she murmured, talking more to the ceiling than to Remus. "You know, I didn't get out of bed for weeks when I came back. Harry brought all my meals to my room, Ron and Ginny tried to get me out of the house but...all I could think of was everything we had lost."

She chewed on her bottom lip for a few moments before continuing. Somehow, it was easier to spill her heart to Remus when he was like this, probably because he couldn't respond. She wouldn't have to hear the anguish in his voice or see the pain on his face. Still, she stroked the fur that lined his neck and spoke openly, telling him everything she had held in.

"I tried to get to you that night and some part of me knew that it wouldn't work. I think I knew the moment James said he would do what was necessary that it would always end up this way. You coming here was unexpected, though. I'm sorry I didn't have the recipe for the Wolfsbane back then," she scritched behind his ears, closing her eyes as she pressed on. "You have no idea how often I kicked myself for not learning how to make it, so that I could give it to you. Draco thinks the potion the werewolves are using to turn out of cycle is some sort of modified version of Wolfsbane, but I'm not so sure."

She sat in her own thoughts for a while, listening to the even hums of his warm breath as it hit her stomach. His eyes remained open, trained on her as she trailed her fingers through his fur, tracing the slight dip on the top of his head between his brows before sliding back down to his neck.

"I'm sorry for everything, Remus," she whispered, tucking her chin to look down at him. "I'm sorry I had to lie about so much. I'm sorry I couldn't save them. I wanted to, more than anything—I wanted to save them and give Harry a better life."

She could feel the tears building behind her eyes and she took a steadying breath. "We've all lost so much and I thought if I could save them...well, it doesn't matter now, does it? Nothing changed. I don't know how long you can stay here, if I've learned anything, it's that what's meant to happen will find a way," she cleared the lump from her throat, her hand stilling in the thick fur on his neck. "I don't think we can change anything that is supposed to happen, but maybe we can tweak the circumstances in our favour. We're playing with the future now, instead of the past and I'm not sure that makes much of a difference...but, maybe...maybe we can end this all now."

Hermione was fully aware that she was rambling now, just talking to fill the air in hopes that Remus would pick up on anything she said. She'd spent so long closing off her own thoughts to protect herself that it seemed like she would burst now that she had let them seep past her lips.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Hermione and Remus remained comfortably situated on the camp bed, her fingers constantly petting his fur as she occasionally spoke. She talked to him about the months he had missed before coming, the things that had happened over the last several years as the war progressed. She told him about the months she, Ron, and Harry spent on the run during what would have been her seventh year. She regaled the stories of how they broke into the Ministry of Magic and Gringotts and rode a dragon to safety. She told him about the Battle of Hogwarts and how Harry—like his father—had walked so willingly to his own death.

Admittedly, it felt good to tell Remus so much about her past. To unload details of herself she had been forced to keep hidden in the event that something would upend the timeline. He seemed to listen, concentrating on her as she spoke. His eyes never left her face in the hours they laid together, some of her long winded anecdotes punctuated with small whines or a low gruff breath that almost sounded like amusement.

It was just after four in the morning when her eyes fluttered open to the feeling of being nudged. Remus pushed at her side with his muzzle, his nose cold against her elbow. She peeked out the small, circular window and could see the beginning of pink and orange light on the horizon and she understood. He would be transforming back any minute and he didn't want her to see it. She pressed a kiss to his head and scrambled off the bed, giving one last look over her shoulder before climbing down the ladder and securing the door closed.

"How'd it go?"

Hermione jumped, her hand clutching her chest as she spun around to see Harry standing in the hallway, holding out a mug of tea.

"What are you doing awake?"

Harry shrugged, "Worried about him too, you know?"

Hermione accepted the tea with a tight smile, "Yeah, I understand. He seems okay, definitely his own mind, in there. I just talked most of the night, we slept a bit."

"How long d'you reckon it'll take before he's back in his own body?"

"I'm not sure," Hermione frowned. "Sirius had said before it takes about twenty minutes if it's been a rough night but it hasn't, so I don't know how quickly it'll go."

Harry hummed a noncommittal sound and shuffled to stand closer to Hermione, his arm coming up to rest around her shoulders and he leaned his head against hers. "Bill said he'd be by later this morning to take the wards down. You should let Remus sleep in the private rooms. The beds are far more comfortable than that camp bed upstairs."

"I will," Hermione agreed. "I'll need to give him some pain potions anyway. He slept quite a bit, but I'm sure he'll still be exhausted. I know I am."

"Get some rest," Harry said, kissing the top of her head. "As of right now, there's nothing pressing to attend to."

"You will, too, won't you?" Hermione asked.

He squeezed her shoulder before stepping away, making his way toward the stairs. "Oh, you know me. I'll find some quiet time eventually, maybe play chess with Ron this afternoon or something. Been a while since we've done that."

"I do know you, Harry. And that's why I'm telling you to look after yourself, too."

Harry waved her off. "I'll be fine. Worry about your werewolf, why don't you?"

Hermione chuckled and sipped at her tea, sinking down to the floor as she waited what she thought may be an appropriate amount of time for Remus to transform back and get himself situated before she returned to fetch him. Once her mug was emptied and the sun had begun to shine bright through the windows, she pulled the ladder down and made her way back up to the attic.

Remus was sitting on the bed, a strange look of bewilderment on his face.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, pausing in the center of the room.

"Yeah," he said, slowly—as if he didn't believe it.

She moved closer, looking him over. He did look okay. Nothing seemed to be obviously broken. He wasn't bleeding or horribly bruised. He looked exhausted, but she couldn't imagine that one would look well rested after having their entire skeleton break and reform—no matter how much sleep they had gotten the night before.

"You're sure?" Hermione urged.

He looked up at her, his gaze locked on hers, pinning her in place. Carefully, he pulled himself from the bed and took shaky steps toward her, his face grimacing a bit. She could hear his knees clicking in protest and she knew he must be in a good amount of pain.

"You should lie down, Remus. I don't think—"

She was silenced when his mouth found hers, his lips pressing hard against her own in a crushing kiss. His hands snaked into the back of her hair, holding her head in place as he devoured her lips. After a few long seconds, he pulled away, breathing hard.

"Thank you," he breathed, his voice thick and raspy. "I have never had a better night on a full moon. Thank you."

.

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CONTENT WARNING: There's a pretty graphic depiction of Remus' werewolf transformation that might be a bit squicky if you're squeamish.

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know I don't tend to CW/TW things, (again, ffn isn't the best for that type of thing) but it was brought to my attention that it could be a lot for someone who is squeamish or doesn't do well with descriptions of physical pain.

The warning beings at "Argh!" and ends at "And finally, it was over" if you need to skip.

So, there's that.

Anyway, leaving it off a good note! See you saturday!

xoxo

Mimi