AUTHOR'S NOTE! This is the last chapter that was a part of my May Edit, so after this, you're in the clear!
Enjoy!
The gooey slice of Camembert practically melted under her tongue as she shook her head. The public knowledge on werewolves was mostly minimal—the Ministry still marked them as savage beasts that fell under the spell of the moon once a month.
She'd yet to visit the library and have Madam Pince direct her to the study of Werewolves.
"Not a lot, aside from what I've learned about Wolfsbane." She replied. "Last year, when Snape covered for you, he briefly taught about the difference between animagi and a werewolf."
Remus nodded with a risen brow, allowing his hand to slowly slither onto her knee. "I expected as much of Severus; the study of my kind is mostly kept out of the public eye."
His thumb and forefinger from the hand not on her knee rubbed the stubble stache he'd trimmed that very morning. "The common people tend to remain unaware of werewolves, but most know of Fenrir Greyback."
There was a tinge of remembrance in her mind at that name, wanting to pinpoint exactly where she'd heard it.
"Greyback?"
"Yes," Remus grimly frowned. "He is responsible for a majority of those turned, and many are not by choice. He tends to turn the young and innocent, taking them into his pack and killing those he deems weaker than himself."
She tried to recall any stories about this Greyback, but came up short. She moved closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. There could have only been one reason why he'd brought him up. "Was he the one who turned you?"
"Yes, unfortunately." Remus admitted with his eyes trained on the looming ticking grandfather clock.
"My father was an advocate for the destruction and criminalization of werewolves. He used his position in the ministry to take us back to the Stone Age, and Greyback took it upon himself to see that my father was punished."
It was making sense now; Remus was a product of his father's own hatred for werewolf kind.
"He turned you to spite your father." She mumbled while rubbing his long fingers. "How old were you?"
Remus exhaled deeply, his hand sliding off her knee and clutching the couch as he softly said, "Four."
Eliza's heart stuttered at such a small number, feeling nothing but hatred for the werewolf that had turned a small and innocent Remus, simply to get revenge on a hateful man. And it was no hardship to see how it had torn Remus up inside to be the way he was, which only made her want to soothe away his pain.
Eliza leaned forward and carefully picked up the still hot teacup, blowing on the steam and asking, "When your parents found out, what happened?"
"My father was horrified." Remus calmly spoke, eyes straightforward with his lips in a pressed line.
"He blamed himself for my curse, and my mother couldn't bear the thought of sending me away. So, they turned the basement into a room for me to spend the full moon, but as I got older, it became harder to contain me."
Remus pushed away the memories of screaming endless nights, wishing he were dead instead of a monster
A pained laugh fell from his lips, "They tried their best to make good of what I was, but my father called upon Dumbledore for help, and I ended up at Hogwarts. The Shrieking Shack was more homey than a basement."
Eliza remembered the Shrieking Shack last year; the claw marks on the destroyed curtains, the torn up furniture, and the sadness that permeated its walls. The hidden home under the Whomping Willow had belonged to Remus all those years ago.
She was suddenly all the more grateful for wizards like Dumbledore.
Eliza gently sat the teacup back on its plate while inching closer to a solemn Remus. "Well, if you hadn't ever been sent to Hogwarts, you never would've come back as a Professor," the couch dipped as she gently pecked his cheek, "And then I never would've met you."
She hadn't expected him to chuckle as greatly as he did, which further prompted her demand with a scrunched nose, "What's so funny? You never would've known my name outside of Hogwarts."
"Elizabeth," he purred. "I doubt there is a single force on this world that could keep you from me."
Now, the temptation to climb into the most inviting lap and finish what they'd started earlier was a beacon in her juvenile mind, but instead she blurted out, "What makes you so sure? How do you know I couldn't have had the equal chance to meet someone else?"
"Because…" he trailed off. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticked loudly, and Eliza nudged him with her shoulder.
"Because?" She repeated.
The stiffness of his lithe shoulders, the hard set of his fine and neatly trimmed jaw, as well as the way his fingers were clenched on the couch cushion had her mind running in circles. There was clearly something he was afraid to say aloud—to her—and the ball in the pit of her stomach grew to an uncomfortable size.
"Remus?" she whispered. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
"Yes—Yes." The hunched shoulders relaxed, the tight grip on the couch now loose, and Eliza cooed at her sweetly, affectionately butting her nose against his cheek and cuddling close.
"I never thought I would find you." Remus admitted. "Most werewolves spend their entire lives searching for their mate, and I feel as though I'm the luckiest man in the world."
"What'd you mean, mate?" she asked while perching her chin on Remus's shoulder, much like a bird yearning for seed from its master. "Like how, dogs and cats, they mate—don't they?"
"Not quite the same, Darling." He answered, tugging her closer if it were possible. "Werewolves have keen senses; of course, they are mostly used for hunting, and some use it to find those who they wish to turn. But all werewolves are gifted in that they have a mate. Most go through life never finding that person, and it can be a rare occurrence."'
"So," Eliza tried to understand, "A mate is the person you're meant to marry?"
She wouldn't say it out loud, but it seemed a little silly to her, to have a mate, and slightly unfair. To be a werewolf meant the lack of choice in whom you spent your life with—what if you got someone you detested?
"It's more than that, Elizabeth." Remus easily lifted her up and onto his lap, gazing into her eyes while one of his hands traveled up to gingerly finger her curls. "It's deeper than marriage—it's a bond stronger than human terms can describe. Every werewolf craves to find theirs, and when they do there is nothing that could break them apart."
This was all fascinating to Eliza; understanding more of the emotions and nature that lived within Remus, but her heart did start to tremble as the explanation of a mate sank deep into her head. He was right in that there was no human equivalent to it. And he'd said he'd found his—
"And I'm—?" the words came out choked as emotion overtook her rational mind. "Am I your—"
Eliza held his gaze with a scrutinizing brow. A simple nod was the answer.
Oh.
So, the only reason he had ever been drawn to her, attracted to her had been—
Oh.
"So all this time, every moment together—" her voice grew higher and unsteady.
"Has it only been because you have no choice?" The waterfall of salty tears started to run down her cheeks, and as if Remus could read her mind, his hands halted her attempt to escape the confines of his lap.
"No, Elizabeth, listen to me." Remus demanded, going as far as to clutch her face between his warm hands and force their eyes to connect. He could taste her nervousness, sadness—humiliation—in the air, wanting to rectify his wrongdoing.
"You must believe me when I say that my attraction to you has been by my own desire and nothing more. I will not lie to you and say that my initial pursuit of you was to sate my wolf, but Elizabeth—" he quickly pecked her on the cheek and softly bumped his nose against her cheek.
"I have never wanted another person in my life as much as I want you." Remus placed a warm kiss on her cheek. "I daresay I could not live without you by my side."
Once he was sure she would not flee, his grip loosened and allowed her to lean back on his thighs. "You will never have to worry that my heart will stray from yours, Elizabeth. My wolf and I are content to be with only you. If only you will have me, and me alone."
Eliza bit her lip, nodding at his words.
On one hand, there was anger brewing in her gut; anger at this werewolf of a man for not bringing this up sooner, for making her think that their attraction had been natural… but then again, on the other hand, butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
Remus would be hers for, well… forever. The fear that he would bore of her, find love in the arms of an older, more experienced woman, was pointless. And even if she did feel a bit bad that he couldn't ever stray if it wasn't meant to be, but well, it was, it seemed, meant to be.
Her hand came up to rest on his cheek, gazing into his warm orbs.
They felt like home; like being back with Mara or being with her friends at the Hogwarts Feast and enjoying a laugh over pumpkin juice. It felt so safe to be here, with Remus. And isn't that all one could ever want?
"Elizabeth—" Her name dies on his lips as she surges forward to kiss him, arms enclosing around his neck in a tight grip. His lips are soft and soothing as she feels hands run up her clothed thighs, feverishly touching any ounce of exposed skin.
Heat rose under her skin as their kiss grew, a low growl echoing in Remus's chest as he gripped his mate's soft hips, tugging her closer if possible. He pressed his clothed cock against her, wanting her to feel how much he desired her.
"Remus," she moaned, tipping her head back. "Touch me."
She'd expected him to take advantage and tear off her shirt, rip the threadbare bra into shreds and mark her skin with his teeth, anything to sate the rising heat underneath her clothes. Instead—
"Elizabeth." His voice was clear as the wandering hands began to settle. "I didn't bring you here to ravish you to my heart's content."
"What if I want you to ravish me?" she echoed his words, licking her oddly dry lips. "What if—I asked very nicely, for you to ravish me right now."
Remus gulped but sat up, keeping her in his lap. "I would love nothing more than to rut your scent into my sheets—"
Once again, he butted her cheek and smirked. "To mark your skin with my teeth and show everyone that you're mine."
His nails reached up to trail a line down the column of her throat, "And I look forward to the day that I mark you here."
She didn't know what possessed her to lean forward and kiss him again, laying back on the couch and pulling him to loom over her. He began to whisper; "I want to know more about you before I mark you, Elizabeth. I want to know how you take your tea, how you spend your nights… I want to know you."
She smiled brightly at Remus, "I can think of one way we can spend time together. My birthday is this coming Monday, and I'd love to spend it with you, if you don't mind."
Eliza closed her eyes, relishing in the feel of being close to Remus. Like this, she could begin to believe the mate business he was talking about. Everything in her mind was at peace when he was near, and she wanted to relish in it for as long as she could.
Remus too shut his eyes, resting his head on her chest and matching his breath to hers.
"Did you ever expect to find me?" She asked with her eyes still shut.
Remus thought for a moment. "No one ever does, but Moony has never been as peaceful as he is now."
"Why do you call your wolf Moony?" She snickered, giggling when he snuffled against the front of her shirt.
With his eyes still closed, he explained, "You have Sirius to thank for that. Him, James, Peter and I had nicknames when we were at Hogwarts. I was Moony, Sirius was Padfoot, James was Prongs and Peter was Wormtail."
"Was this some sort of club?" she asked, curling her hand to rest against his shoulder.
"I suppose it was something like that. We were horrid at times, but it was mostly innocent. Though," his face grew hard, "there were times that things became out of hand."
She snuggled into the cushions below, "What do you mean?"
"That, my dear," said Remus, opening his eyes and sitting up, already missing the warmth of his mate, "Is a story for another time."
She huffed when he pulled her up, and her eyes drifted to the grandfather clock.
"Oh dear," Elizabeth exclaimed, looking between the clock and Remus. "How is that the time already? I promised I would be back at Hogsmeade before the new schools arrive."
Her legs were wobbly as she stood. "I do hate to cut this short."
"Wait one moment, my sweet." Remus muttered as he tugged her back, faulting any escape attempt. "There is still one thing we've yet to discuss."
Eliza pretended to think deeply, "What's that?"
A darker look overcame Remus's face, one that had her feeling as though she were under observation in a glass. "What happened after the World Cup?"
She tried to butt in but he continued, "I saw an article in the Daily Prophet, and I just want to know if there's anything you left out. Anything that could help us."
"I'm sorry, who's us?" She questioned.
By the deep sigh he gave, it seemed that too was a conversation for another time.
"Alright, never mind about that." She thought back. "Well—I told the Prophet almost everything that happened."
"Almost, everything." Remus repeated. "What did you leave out?"
The interview with the Prophet had been discomforting, and her and Harry had coughed up every detail they'd asked. Most of them had asked whether there were recognizable faces amongst the Death Eaters—no, they kept their masks on during the fires—and that question had almost ended after that.
Except about—
"There was a man there with no mask, the one who cast the Dark Mark," she recalled. "I didn't see his face, but… I knew him. I'd heard his voice before, in my dreams."
"How?" Remus urged, tugging her close, trying to understand. "Explain it to me."
"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd worry, but I'd been having dreams of a house—and there's an old man there. He sees lights. He thinks its just kids having a laugh or something, but it's not."
"He always goes to the house and tries to go upstairs, but he hears voices. I know one of them is Wormtail." She spat the traitor's name. "And the other man is the one who cast the Dark Mark."
Remus nodded and rubbed her thigh, "Is that all?"
She shook her head, "I think—I think they were talking to… Voldemort."
The look of horror and shock on Remus's face made her feel as though she's said the wrong thing, that she truly should have kept it to herself. This was exactly why it had never come up in a letter.
How do you tell someone you love you're seeing a dead man in your dreams? Especially when that dead man was the most feared wizard in the country.
The very next moment, Remus was shaking her shoulders, demanding, "Are you sure, Elizabeth? Are you certain it's him?"
"Yes, yes, I'm sure." She shakily answered, biting her lip. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner."
Those words were enough to have his shoulders slacking, face pressing into her chest with heavy sighs. The steady thumping of his heart had any residual worry flowing out of her veins, relishing in their closeness while he thought of what to say.
The grandfather clock now read half past three.
"I really do need to go, Remus." She gingerly lifted his chin and stared into his soft eyes.
"I know." He whispered back, reaching forward to press his lips against hers in a soft kiss, pouring in all of his adoration and desire. He would miss them more than she could know.
Eliza was the one who stood first—stretching her nimble knees with arms above her head—turning and waiting for Remus to follow her out of the parlor. A fair amount of soft cheeses and only a few spare slices of cured meat rested on the board; almost all of the fruit had been nibbled away.
"I was serious about my birthday," she licked her suddenly dry lips. "It's on Monday, and I should be done with Potions around one, so after that, we could do something. Together."
Remus reached forward to open the door for her, smiling, "I would be honored to have you for your birthday, Elizabeth. I'll send a letter as to how we shall meet up. Keep an eye out."
The warmth came back at the thought of him having her, but she shook it away. They yelled up to Sirius that they would return shortly, to which he yelled at Remus to pick up more of his favorite biscuits.
It was still particularly chilly outside when they gripped each other's hands and started for the sidewalk.
"Are you ready?" Remus tugged her close, grinning down.
"Always," she said, hugging him close as they apparated away.