Chapter 02:
Of all the things that could have gone wrong with her leaving her hair down for a day, being bound to a magical creature, was not one she had thought of.
When Hermione had finally convinced herself to apparate for a day to Vegas, albeit on a bet from Ron who had laughed at her reluctance to break from her carefully set routine, all she had expected was to see the city of sin, play a game or two at some casino, grab a few drinks and may be get a good shag to break the tension within.
But, no!
She had to make a beeline for the one man who had it in him to change her entire bloody life in the span of a night!
So, now, she, Hermione Granger, the Hogwarts insufferable know-it-all who was now championing the causes of all magical beings in Britain, had received a fucking warning letter from The Magical Congress of the United States of America to get back to her shape-shifting mate before he turned suicidal! The cheek!
The letter had been dropped at her office no less and her entire career was on line for the nation now saw their war heroin as a two-faced bitch who pressed the Wizengamot for laws to better the lives of magical creatures and yet left her own mate out in the woods!
And the worst part of it all? Her stupid mate hadn't even warned her about binding her to him! He'd simply gone ahead and done the deed, without so much as a by your leave!
"Of course I'm here, you stupid man! Where else will I be WHEN YOU'VE BOUND ME TO YOU!"
"What do you mean, he's bound you to him?"
"And can you please speak a little softly?"
His friends spoke up from beside him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, where are my manners. I must not be screaming like this on a beach. I mean, really, what's the big problem? It's only my ENTIRE BLOODY LIFE THAT'S SHOVED UPSIDE DOWN! Of course, I won't speak softly, you moron. You get your tailor made life thrown upside down because of a one night stand and then come speak to me softly about it," she said menacingly to the shortest one of the three.
"And by bound me," she glared at the tallest one, "I mean he's marked me as his soul-mate, quite literally, might I add, without consulting me at all. I have to pack my life and move to whole new continent, to live with a man I do not know a thing about. And what's more? I now have a written warning from your ministry asking me to do just that, and thanks to that wonderful warning, my entire nation sees me as a two-faced hypocrite."
"You're worse than a Veela, you know. A Veela's possessiveness can be troublesome, but they never do anything against their mate's wishes. But you…. you've ruined everything. Everything I've worked for, everything I've strived hard for.. it's all gone. All gone because you couldn't even get yourself to tell me what you've gone and done."
And she broke down, sobbing in front of the surprised trio.
Paul worked on auto-pilot. He'd never been one to console crying girls, especially girls that were crying because of him, but he stepped forward and held her close, instinctively knowing she'd be unable to stand by herself. Without realising it, she leaned into him and he knelt on the soft sand, tugging her along. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and cried until exhaustion finally claimed her consciousness.
Paul held her close, rubbing her back to calm her while whispering non-sensical soothing words in her ears. He didn't care that his pack brothers saw him doing that, their presence far from his mind that only thought of ways to quieten the crying woman in his arms. That and how to keep her right where she was.
Every shuddering breath of hers was slicing his heart in a million ways, driving her pain bone deep into his very being, until he finally felt her going lax in his arms. Her breathing evened out and her body sagged onto his.
He moved his arms around and lifted her up, rising himself and carried her back to his cottage with him after promising to see his brothers the next day once he had some more answers (or questions, more like, he thought).