Disclaimer: I only own Serena
Chapter Seven
Remus dreamed. He was back at Hogwarts, not as a student, but as an adult. He wandered the familiar halls, searching… searching.
He soon found himself at the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Peering through the partially open door, he could see a woman standing across the room.
He entered the room, the door shutting and locking behind him. Lifting his head, he scented the air. That was how he knew the other occupant of the room before she turned to face him.
"Serena?"
She turned, her pale gown flaring around her. Her lips curved up at the corners when she saw him.
"What took you so long?" She asked, coming toward him, seeming to glide over the rough stone floor.
He couldn't take his eyes from her. Her long dark hair flowed like satin over her shoulders and her eyes were deeper and more mysterious than ever. The silvery gown she wore clung to her slender form, shimmering as it draped over her.
She stopped in front of him, lifting her hand to stroke his jaw. "I waited forever, you know." She told him.
He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a growl. Startled, he looked down at his hands, unnerved to see hair sprouting on the backs and his fingernails extending into claws.
It wasn't a full moon, he thought desperately. It wasn't time.
Serena seemed unconcerned by his beginning transformation. She moved even closer to him, her body brushing against his.
The feel of her caused the feral part of him to break free. With a snarl, he fisted his clawed hands in her hair, hauling her closer still. Then he lowered his mouth to hers in a brutal kiss.
Instead of pulling away, she surrendered. Her hands clutched at his shoulders as she accepted the punishing pressure of his lips. When she whimpered, he dragged his mouth away from hers, scraping his lengthening teeth along her throat.
She moaned.
The sound only seemed to feed the beast within, and he used his grip on her hair to tug her head back, giving him better access to her neck. He savaged, using teeth and tongue and lips to make her shiver.
The throbbing pulse at the base of her throat spurred him on even further. Releasing her hair, he slid one hand down over her shoulder, his claws catching on the thin material of her gown.
She sighed, her arms wrapping around him.
Then he smelled the blood.
Rearing back, he stared down at her, horrified to see that his claws had torn furrows in her tender skin which were now dripping blood.
"No!" He gasped, falling away from her. He stumbled back a few steps, crashing into the desk in the front of the room, his eyes glued to the crimson stains spreading across her chest.
Serena looked down, her hands coming up to touch the wounds. Then she looked back at him, her eyes desolate, her bloody hands dropping to her sides.
"Remus…" She called to him, her voice sounding as if it were far away.
He continued backing away, scrambling around the desk, shaking his head, sickened by what he had done. He had lost control, had hurt her. Infected her. "No."
He looked down at his own hands, which were slick with her blood. He began to shake violently. "No, no, no!"
His own hoarse shouts woke him, gasping, bathed in icy sweat. The bed clothes were tangled around him.
He lifted his trembling hands, half expecting to see blood on them, but there was nothing there.
It had seemed so real. He had smelled her. Felt her silky hair spilling over his hands.
Tasted her.
Sitting up slowly, he thrust his fingers through his sweat soaked hair and sighed. When would he stop having this dream?
He got out of bed, dressing quickly and making his way downstairs. He stumbled into the kitchen, finding Serena sitting at the table placidly sipping a cup of tea with Molly Weasley.
He paused just inside the doorway, the dream fresh in his mind.
Serena met his gaze, an odd look on her face. "Good morning." She greeted him blandly.
When he continued to stand in the doorway, staring at her, she smiled at him, a not altogether kind smile. "You look a little rough, Remus. Did you not sleep well?"
His mouth fell open slightly. She knew. She knew what he had dreamed.
She held her hand out toward the stove, and a piece of toast lifted into the air, floating across the room to land lightly on her upturned palm.
"Hungry?" She asked him gently, her tone suggesting she knew exactly what he was hungry for. As she held the toast out to him, the neck of her dressing gown gaped open, revealing a set of welts curving over her shoulder that matched her wounds from his dream.
Shutting his mouth with a snap, he turned and fled.
"You shouldn't tease him, dear." Molly commented, after watching the encounter with great curiosity. "It's unkind."
Serena put the toast down on the table and slipped her hand inside the neck of her gown to finger the welts, which tingled almost imperceptibly. She wasn't terribly concerned about the wounds. They would fade.
They always did. It wasn't the first time she had shared that dream with him. And as always, it left her feeling restless.
"He started it." She replied childishly.
Molly pursed her lips and eyed the other woman.
Serena blew out a harsh breath. "I know, I know." She took on last sip of her tea. "I'll go after him."
***
She found him slumped in a ratty chair in the front drawing room, his head in his hands.
"Moony?" She called softly.
"Don't call me that." He snapped. "I don't want you calling me that."
She could hear the despair in his voice. Crossing the room, she dropped to her knees in front of him. "Remus. Don't. I'm all right."
"How long?" He rasped, lifting his head and letting his hands drop. Greenish gold eyes fixed on her face. "How many times has this happened?"
She didn't want to tell him. He would only beat himself up more. Shaking her head, she placed her hand on his knee. "It doesn't matter."
He flinched away from her touch. "It doesn't matter?" He stood abruptly and paced away from her. "Of course it does. I've been mauling you while we sleep. How can you say it doesn't bloody matter?"
She remained silent, not yet willing to admit anything.
"How is this happening? How are you in my dreams?"
"I have no idea." She responded. It was a lie of course. She had a very good idea how it was happening. The strength of her feelings for him made it easy for her to be pulled into his dreams.
He swung back around to face her. "How long has this been happening, Serena?"
He sounded desperate. "Since Albus sent you to me." She admitted.
His face drained of color. "What? Why didn't you say anything?"
She shrugged.
"You should have told me."
"Why?"
He was at a loss. She seemed not to care that he had hurt her. He crossed to her, pulling her to her feet. He reached out and gently pulled her gown away from the bruised lines on her shoulder.
She shuddered when his fingertips brushed her skin, but not from fear, as he thought; but because it was the first time he had voluntarily touched her outside of his dream.
"I hurt you." He whispered.
She met his gaze steadily. "No. You didn't."
"I marked you."
"I liked it." She countered. She reached up now to brush the shaggy hair away from his face. His lack of discipline when he touched her in the dream had shown her that he wasn't immune to her. "I wanted it."