Chapter Three

July 18th, 1981
Forest of Dean

Hermione had been prepared for the roughness that would come with being kissed by a werewolf. Remus was not the first werewolf she had snogged, nor would he be the first one that slept with her. Six months after escaping the ruins of Hogwarts, the small group of what was left of Dumbledore's Army and the Order had taken refuge out of country to recover and regroup. They found sanctuary in Bulgaria of all places. Unwilling to join behind what the locals considered a cheap imitation of Grindelwald, the Bulgarians had created a resistance to Voldemort's movement. While Death Eaters sacked the Wizarding villages of Britain and Scotland, the werewolves had been sent to Bulgaria with a message from the Dark Lord.

Many had been infected—Viktor Krum amongst them.

While the remaining Weasleys grieved their losses, and Harry spent most of his days training for a fight that just did not seem likely to ever end, Hermione spent her nights wrapped up in the arms of her first love, whose new affliction brought out an aggressive side that she found oddly titillating.

Viktor had been passionate and a little rough, but Hermione had not minded.

Remus, however, set her blood on fire.

The softest kiss to her lips turned ravenous in moments. The second their tongues met, Remus growled in the back of his throat. As though a primal part of her was suddenly woken, Hermione instinctively hiked her leg up against his hip, allowing Remus to grip her thigh. He pushed her until her back was flat against the trunk of a tree, using the leverage to lift her until her legs were wrapped around his waist. The kiss turned frantic, and Hermione shivered in needy anticipation when Remus pulled away to run his teeth along her jaw and down her neck.

She could feel his breath, hot against her shoulder. Drunk on the heat of skin on skin, she whimpered when she felt his hand push between their body and a shifting of his trousers. Her pulse raced, the echo of a distant howl in the back of her mind, and she could actually feel the magic in her veins pause, adjust, and open as though preparing for a welcome invasion.

The heat of Remus's body was yanked away just as quickly as it had come upon her. Hermione fell to the ground, bereft, looking up as her werewolf—hers?—was pulled away from her by another man. Without thinking, she snarled up at the man, who blinked down at her in amusement, a friendly grin on his face.

"Rollo, get off!" Remus growled, fighting against his friend.

"Eager all of a sudden?" Rollo chuckled. "Well, that certainly is a difference. Looks like you might've actually found a proper mate."

Eyes wide, Remus slumped against Rollo's hold. "M-Mate?"

Hermione stood, crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her body to cover most of her nudity. "Isn't that the point? He's to mate me?" When Remus stared at her, eyes full of longing and disbelief, her lips parted. "Oh. I . . . Oh."

Real mates.

Not just two wolves come together. Not just a wizard and a witch who had made a choice to be together. But true and proper wolf mates. She felt her magic stir at the thought, a welcome and comforting feeling washing over her. Of course, she could not help but wonder if the same would have been said of the Remus Lupin she had known in her past. "Why didn't he know me on sight?"

"Lots of different myths and theories," Rollo replied, finally releasing Remus and watching in amusement as he rushed to Hermione, pulling her into his arms. "I heard a tale about ten years back. Some Russian wolf that said wolf mates are where Muggles got their silly story idea about true love's kiss. You likely would have never known had he not kissed you, little beast."

"I'm not sure I like your friend," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes from around Remus at Rollo.

Remus, however, was silent as he held her, breathing heavy against the top of her head. She adjusted her position in his arms to look up at his face. His eyes were focused ahead, a scared determination in his gaze, his mouth in a tight line. She could feel the fear and anger rolling off of him, but there was also a protectiveness and possessiveness in the warmth of his magic as it surrounded her—as it reached out to hers.

"What do we do?"

"We leave," Remus said, reaching down and taking her hand.

Rollo's eyes widened. "You what? Are you mad?" he snapped in a hushed tone. "Remus, I know you want to get her out of here, but you'll never make it past the wards. And what do you think Greyback and Seff will do if you're caught? Worse yet, what they'll do to her if you're caught before you claim her?"

Remus snarled, his eyes flashing pure gold. Hermione caught the colour shift and felt slightly embarrassed over the way her belly tightened at the sight and how the apex of her thighs pulsed over the sound he made. A chill ran up the back of Hermione's neck, and she looked over Rollo's shoulder to see the other wolves impatiently peeking down at them. "Remus," she whispered. "Remus, let's get this over with."

Swallowing hard, Remus glanced at the gathered men and growled low. "If I'm challenged by one of them—"

"You kill them," Rollo said, cutting him off. "Plain and simple. It's expected, and anyone who wants to challenge you for your mate is not someone who's doing it out of the kindness of their hearts. They won't deserve to live."

Looking back at Hermione, she gave a reluctant nod of her head. "I won't judge you for it," she said. "I've taken lives. We're at war." She left out the diatribe over how who were any of them to challenge Remus as though he owned her, and that she could fight for herself, thank you very much. But the look in his eyes matched how she felt inside at the thought of anyone else getting between her and Remus. Just the fact that she knew his older self had been murdered was making her worked up with a desire to find and kill Antonin Dolohov, the man responsible.

The three walked back to the camp in silence, attention on anyone who stepped too close. The children, as Remus requested, had been led away, and the rest of the pack had formed a large circle with Greyback in the centre, looking far too pleased with himself. "Well, doesn't she clean up nice?" he said with a laugh.

"Prefer 'em a bit dirty, myself," Seff said, grinning.

Hermione noted that the bite wound she had left on Greyback was already partially healed. She wondered if someone had tended to it, or if it was just a part of the werewolf healing factor. It was unfortunate that she had not already been turned when she'd bitten him; it would have been pleasant to have been able to leave a permanent reminder not to cross her.

"Now, before Lupin here finally becomes a right grown up wolf," Greyback said to the laughter of the other men around them, "are there any challengers?"

Remus's eyes widened. "You never invite challengers!"

"True," Greyback said with a shrug, "but you've never shown interest before, now have you? Thought I'd make this a little more interesting to see just how determined you are to keep the little biter. Or maybe you were just taking pity? One night and off she goes? Lupin keeps his honour, saves the damsel and gets a shag as a thank you? It's time you grew up, boy." Greyback's grin had faded, a look of irritation replacing amusement.

Hermione took a step closer to Remus, sighing when she felt his hand rest on the back of her neck. She leant into his touch, trying to silently communicate her acceptance and permission. Thankfully, he seemed to understand. His hand tightened in the back of her hair, not enough to hurt, but enough to direct her in a dominant fashion.

Positioning her in front of him, one hand stayed fisted in her hair even as the other swooped down around her body, settling across her waist just below her breasts. Remus bared his teeth to the rest of the pack and snarled loudly, "Mine!"

One by one, each wolf stepped one foot back from the circle. Seff remained where he was, glaring at Remus, until Greyback hit him in the shoulder, forcing him back. Remus turned, moving Hermione with him as they followed the circle that expanded outward a foot from every angle—except one.

Dane narrowed blue eyes in Remus's direction, though his gaze was actually on Hermione, hateful and full of vengeance for her attack on him earlier. Remus tensed behind Hermione. The threat triggered something in her and she growled in the back of her throat, angling her head downward as she met Dane's stare head on.

Remus let her go and in a split second, he was in front of her instead of behind. Faster than she had ever anticipated, Dane had launched himself forward, eager to grab at her, but Remus was there, blocking his path. Fists flew violently, and Hermione gasped when she heard the wet smack of fist on blood-splattered skin. When they spun around, Remus was bleeding from his left eye, but Dane, despite being larger, had a gash right down the centre of his lip and was struggling to get out of the grip that Remus had around his neck.

Hermione stepped back, out of the way, her eyes set on the pocket where she had seen Remus stow his wand. If the worst were to happen, she felt that she could wandlessly summon it, though what good that would do, she was not certain. She knew a good collection of spells that would injure or incapacitate only about one-fourth of the gathered pack, and then she would need to figure out how to beat them to the edge of the wards to Disapparate. Even still, she knew in her heart she could not leave Remus behind.

Not ever.

She needn't have worried. Dane threw his weight forward in an attempt to wrestle Remus to the ground, only to end up on his own back. Remus, though smaller than the other man, was stronger, and he used that strength to his advantage, immobilising his enemy. Dane, panicked, fisted a rock nearby and then swung, hitting Remus in the head and throwing him off balance.

Instead of attempting to finish him off, though, Dane made a run at Hermione, very clearly wanting to injure her instead of properly challenging Remus's rights to mate. His mistake was in underestimating Hermione's swiftness. She dodged his outstretched hand and ducked forward when he spun around to try again. Before he had a chance to try for a third attempt, Remus was back on his feet with two hands gripped around Dane's throat.

Choking for breath, Dane struggled.

A glance given toward Greyback for permission was followed by a proud nod, and Remus sunk his teeth into the back of Dane's neck. Hermione watched, eyes wide, as Remus's fingers bit into the man's throat, followed by a sickening crunch of bone and cartilage. Too large to keep upright on his own, Remus let the body sink to the ground.

Greyback began applauding, his boisterous laughed echoing in the circle. Remus was breathing heavy, staring ahead at his marker, his eyes a deep gold. He tensed briefly when Rollo approached from the side, holding out a cup of water. Letting out a sigh of relief, Remus swished the water in his mouth, rinsing out the taste of blood before spitting it on the ground. He said nothing as Rollo returned to his place in the circle.

No one said another word as Remus stalked toward Hermione, heart pounding in his chest and blood running hot. Fist back in her hair, he pulled her forward and covered her mouth with his own, groaning at the way she melted her body against him as though they were alone and not completely surrounded. She was small, and it was easy to lift her into his arms, repositioning her legs back around his waist—where they belong, Remus thought to himself.

Hermione paid little attention to the sound and feel of crunching leaves against her back when Remus set her on the ground, still pressed tightly against his body. That same primal instinct from earlier took control once more, and Hermione broke away from the kiss to tilt her head to the side, exposing her neck. Remus's chest rumbled in approval, and the men in the circle around them all echoed his thoughts as they began to howl.

Remus sat back, lifting her once again into his arms. For a brief moment, his humanity showed itself in soft green eyes. "I . . . I don't want to be this," he whispered, burying his face in her curls so that the others could not see his weakness.

"I have you," she replied, threading her hands in his sandy-coloured hair. "We'll be free soon enough. Back in the world where we both belong. Do it, Remus. I'm yours."

Moving her body, Remus flipped her over until she was on her hands and knees. He shoved his trousers down his hips, freeing his straining erection. Angling her hips to line himself up, Remus ran a hand over the smooth skin of her back, admiring the softness of her before smoothly thrusting inside her warmth.

Her magic tingled as it re-opened like before, melding with his. It felt as though every bit of her that might have ever been missing a piece was suddenly filled. Cracks in her subconscious, fractures in her magic, breaks in her heart were all at once repaired, fused seamlessly with magic that felt all too familiar. She could swear that she could almost smell the library at Grimmauld Place, hear the soothing sounds of quill on parchment from inside the Defence classroom, and taste that first bit of chocolate that chased away the chilling aftermath of a dementor.

Remus groaned. He had been with witches before, and even one female werewolf a few months back when her mate had been killed by Greyback. Nothing compared to Hermione. Nothing. As much as he hated his lot in life, he fought the urge to feel grateful to Greyback for this. For making him the monster that he was, and allowing that infectious magic to show him how perfect the joining of two bodies—two people—could be. Thankfully, his hatred for his maker was strong enough to overpower the momentary gratitude. Instead, he focused on the feel of her, of his mate, Hermione.

Remus leant forward on his knees, pressing himself against her back and angling his body until the stubble of his beard was rubbing against her neck. Even if he hadn't seen a claiming done before, Remus knew what to do instinctively. Shocked by the wave of desire that rushed through him, he opened his mouth, pressing his teeth against the skin of her shoulder sank his teeth into her flesh.

She shivered in his arms as he pulled his mouth from her shoulder. For a moment he wondered if he had truly hurt her, but she leant back into his embrace, seeking him out. As the others howled around them, celebrating the ritual as though Remus was just like them, he could not help but think of a future where he could make love to her in a bed as though they were both human, and nothing more. A future without a war, without Death Eaters and Voldemort. A future unlike the ones he had long ago thought impossible, and a future unlike the one she had come from.

First, he needed to get them both as far from Greyback as possible.

Still trying to control his breathing, Remus kissed her temple and whispered, "I have you."