February 25th

Ignoring reality and the rest of the world tucked away in Fenrir's small cottage for several days had been a respite Hermione hadn't even been aware she was desperately needing. With no fear of being caught by someone who meant her harm, she had been able to relax and allow her body to continue to heal after the hellacious almost year she'd put it through. As long as Fenrir was nearby, he would keep her protected. His loyalty was absolute. There were times his traits and characteristics were more canine than lupine. Subtle in their difference at times, but different nonetheless.

He kept her fed during the day and warm at night. It was easy to forget the worst parts of her time on the run when it felt like she was living in the past. Her host didn't make demands of her about anything. If she'd wanted to be left alone, he wouldn't hesitate to give her space. He was content to honor their long friendship by doing nothing more than giving her a safe place to stay for a little while. For someone with the reputation of being a dangerous, homicidal monster, he could be quite kind and generous to those he cared about. Of course, it was important to always remember that he had earned his reputation. Friends they might very well be, but there was always the possibility that he could turn on her if she tried to harm him or deceive him.

Time was difficult to keep track of while she stayed in his little corner of the world. She wasn't even entirely sure how many days had passed since she first knocked on his front door. There hadn't been much reason to keep track. If she wasn't taking advantage of the luxury of safety to sleep as long as she wanted, she was finding other pleasurable ways to pass the time. As the Full Moon drew nearer, Fenrir's appetite had increased in more ways than one.

"More eggs?"

The werewolf pointed to the skillet on the cooker with the spoon he was using to scramble the eggs. Hermione laughed and shook her head. Her plate still had at least three she hadn't even touched yet and her stomach was close to reaching full capacity. If she stayed with him much longer, she would be in danger of actually gaining weight on her too-thin frame. She hadn't been able to do that since before she left Hogsmeade.

Fenrir finished frying up the rest of his breakfast a short time later. He was a man who appreciated simple, uncomplicated food and plenty of it. Over the course of their friendship, she had seen him eat massive amounts of food that no other mere mortal could handle. It always amused her. Perhaps, if she stopped to really think about it, she should have been sad that he was cursed to struggle with the incurable affliction for the rest of his life. When she was the idealistic girl she once was in another lifetime, she remembered being sad every time she thought of any of the hardships Remus Lupin was forced to endure as a result of being bitten by the evil Greyback. Strange how much the experience of living could alter a person's fundamental beliefs and thoughts. If the old Hermione Granger was still alive, somehow she didn't think the younger witch would approve of how she turned out later in life.

They sat across the table without speaking while the werewolf tucked in to his plate. Something about her unexpected visit had brought out a surprising nurturing side in him. It had been a long time since anyone had fussed and fretted over her health and comfort. When he thought she might be the tiniest bit peckish, he was in the kitchen searching for something to feed her. If the temperature dropped a single degree in the cottage, he made sure that she had a warm blanket or an extra jumper of his to wear. He was protective over her as she slept. If she hadn't known about his tragic history when it came to love, she might have even been foolish enough to believe that he was falling in love with her.

"How many days until the Full Moon?"

He waited long enough to finish chewing his food and swallowing before answering. Only four days remained before she needed to find somewhere else to spend a few nights. Though he wasn't likely to attack her in his transformed state, one could not be too careful. In an effort to keep her protected from the vile creatures he despised, Antonin frequently demanded that she remain safely tucked away at home the nights that werewolves roamed the Earth in their transformed bodies. She always thought it rich that he worried about her at those times, but didn't seem to mind when she was ravaged by a werewolf under the light of any of the other moon phases. To say that their marriage had been a bit complicated was an understatement.

She rolled the idea of continuing her trek to Devon around in her mind. Draco had been so insistent that she go there and she still didn't understand why. What would she find there? Part of her still assumed that it was a trick, a way for the Resistance to capture her and use her for some kind of nefarious purpose she hadn't quite worked out yet. Thinking too hard about what they might have planned if she showed up made her brain go all fuzzy.

"What are you planning to do next?"

Fenrir had always been a remarkably perceptive man. Time and time again he'd impressed her with his thoughtfulness, with the manner in which it seemed that he could read her mind. He knew that she was considering leaving. As much as she had enjoyed the time she spent with him, she knew it was not a long-term solution. His life might be isolated and his home rarely visited, but that didn't mean he was the answer to her problems. Hiding out with him was simply delaying the inevitable.

"I'm not sure."

It was the truth. Knowing that she was being honest, he didn't press her any further. They continued in their companionable silence as he continued his meal. Her mind never stopped turning with thoughts of her next steps. The novelty of relaxation in complete safety had already begun to wear off.

"What do you think of the Resistance?"

Fenrir's fork dropped to his plate with a clang at the question she didn't even expect to ask. Somehow the words just tumbled out of her mouth. He narrowed his eyes at her as if he was trying to gauge exactly why she was asking. His reluctance to answer the question was evident. Finally, when the air in the room grew heavy with the awkwardness of the moment, he gave an answer in a gruff tone.

"I haven't been happy with how this country has been run for the last several years."

She understood why he hadn't wanted to come right out and answer the question. Even a simple sentence like his could get him in severe trouble if she was of a mind to report him to the proper authorities. Before she ran away from her husband and the life that she had created in Hogsmeade, she had been the perfect, dutiful, little Death Eater. If she even suspected that someone she knew was harboring ill thoughts about the regime she had dedicated her life to protecting, she didn't hesitate to make a formal report. Over the years she had lost count of the number of people who had been punished in various degrees of severity for the reports she'd filed. It was no wonder that he had never been so forthright with her about his feelings. Once upon a time, good fuck or not, she wouldn't have hesitated to turn him in for seditious speech.

"There are more laws than there used to be. I thought when the Dark Lord won, we'd have more freedom to live our lives. Now, I can't even bite a person without worrying about being called in for a formal inquiry."

Fenrir had never given up fully on his plan to populate the world with more werewolves than wizards. He still preferred to find children that were young and malleable. When they were first victorious, he had been allowed to seek out the families of the worst of the blood traitors to begin building the armies he desired with the children of the vanquished. There had even been a formal rule in the beginning when they went on their raids against the Resistance. Children were not to be harmed if at all possible. They were to be captured in good health and handed over to Fenrir's pack. Though the Dark Lord would never allow his full plan to come to fruition, Fenrir was pacified for a long time. It seemed like one day his goal would be realized.

Hermione didn't know all of the details of the large pack of werewolves he was responsible for. Truthfully, it had never interested her much. All she knew was he and others like him had been a convenient way to get unruly children to behave. She and Antonin both had been known to warn their son that bad little boys were bitten by werewolves and forced to live outside away from their mummy and daddy. He usually straightened up quickly.

As time had gone on after the war ended and they moved from a 'conquering' people to a 'ruling' people, the Dark Lord began to put in place restrictions on the number of children Fenrir and his pack were allowed to bite. Two werewolves mating and biting their offspring when they were young was considered a family matter that they had no business interfering in. Even the rare werewolf marriage with a non-bitten spouse had some freedom to change their little darlings into monsters if they so desired. But, the general public became less and less allowed. She suspected that Fenrir was frustrated though she didn't have the first clue to the extent.

"And do you think the Resistance is the answer? Don't you think they will just set up the same kind of restrictions?"

"If they can make the world go back to what it used to be like, I'll be happy."

She knew that normal people would find it strange that they were discussing the possibility of a world where he was free to maul and transform small children into beasts as an attractive prospect. It didn't matter. She wouldn't judge Fenrir for his crimes. She had more than enough of her own.