Chapter 14

The walk to the Whomping Willow seemed much longer without Professor McGonagall leading the way. Hermione thought of the Transfiguration Professor's unusually smug face as she'd watched a school owl deliver Harry's new broom - a flashy, new Nimbus 2000, whatever that meant - the day after Hermione's birthday. She had tried not to take offence that her own birthday had been ignored by practically everyone when the next day had been "celebrate Gryffindor's new seeker and his shiny broom" day.

She shook her head, drawing her thoughts back to the present. For the first time in years, Hermione found herself feeling nervous about the full moon. The last time she'd felt this way was when the Ministry had installed the cage and reinforced the wards in the barn that housed her transformations. She'd been a little worried that the wolf might not take well to the changes; the thought of throwing herself against rows of metal bars all night had been terrifying. Everything had been fine, though. She had found a chew toy, played a bit, and slept - as usual. She hoped this night wouldn't be too different, and she really hoped that Professor McGonagall was right about Animagi being safe around werewolves in their animal forms. The thought of having a friend around again - like she had for her very first full moon, back when she was too young to remember - made the whole experience of being the sole werewolf at Hogwarts a lot less lonely.

When she finally got to the Whomping Willow, she stopped just outside the reach of the tree's thrashing, practising the wand movement twice before sending the special Stunning Spell - that she suspected had been invented for this specific purpose - toward the knot on the tree's trunk. The tree ceased even the faintest hint of movement and the hidden door swung open. Hermione quickly made her way down into the tunnel, shutting the door behind her, casting a Lumos to light her way.

She wasn't sure what time the professor would be able to join her, so she assumed she would be starting the night out on her own. It seemed wise to leave her wand and other belongings outside the reach of her wolf, so she changed soon after she exited the trap door, leaving herself in only a pair of old panties and a camisole. Normally, she would have waited in the nude, but she didn't like the idea of running into her favourite teacher without a scrap of clothing on. Hopefully, they could figure out a system that would allow her to change and transform without embarrassing herself in the future. She stashed her clothes and things on the steps beneath the trapdoor, before closing it and wandering around for a while. She'd come to the shack early, just in case she was stopped on her way down or ran late for any other reason. She didn't dare risk being anywhere else in the school or on the grounds when her inner wolf made itself known.

She finally sat down on the shredded settee, closing her eyes and trying to calm the tremors in her bones and muscles as they prepared to shift to their alternate form. Hermione took a moment to wonder if Animagi endured the same pain each time they shifted, she finally decided that could not be the case. It seemed as if there would be even less of them in existence than there were if the magic caused one such unbearable pain each time it was used. Regardless, she found herself determining to ask Professor McGonagall at the next available opportunity.

She finished that thought just as the full moon was upon her.

The nausea, fatigue, and headaches in the last few days leading up to the full moon were manageable. Chocolate truly did help, and she found that getting extra rest and eating well made it so that she only felt somewhat ill. However, the pain of the transformation itself was something she knew she would never become fully accustomed to.

Her bones shattered and reformed, sinews separating and reattaching as her skeleton rearranged itself and fur grew from every pore. Even her eyes burned as the lupine senses took over. She cried out as she always did, the pain leaving her body in the form of a ragged scream that ended as a pained howl. Her insides rearranged themselves, and the broken parts of her skin healed over, leaving her in a panting heap on the floor.

She was exhausted, but the new sights and smells around her urged her to explore. She paced around the house several times, smelling and licking things as necessary. Hints of something oddly familiar wafted from different parts of the house, but she couldn't place the smells or the memories.

When she came back to the bedroom, she curled up on the shredded mattress, content to sleep. As her eyes were drifting closed, a sleek tabby cat entered the room. The wolf's ears flicked forward, and she sat up, intent on assessing the other animal in the room; sensing no threat, she became curious.

A sense of friendship came from the cat, and she hummed contentedly when the little feline came over to tentatively rub her head against the werewolf's neck. The young werewolf was already exhausted and simply huffed a quiet hello, nuzzling her head against the cat's before curling up on the bed again and began drifting off. She was only dimly aware of the cat keeping vigil nearby as she allowed sleep to claim her.

After the cat was satisfied that the wolf wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, she turned in a circle and curled up a few feet away, resting her head on her paws, allowing herself to join the wolf in slumber.

XxxX

When Hermione woke, she was already in the hospital wing, clad in hospital-issue pyjamas, with a white sheet tucked up to her chin. She had expected to wake up in the Shrieking Shack but found she was grateful she didn't have to do her usual routine of waking up naked, finding her clothes, and making her way back home in the cold light of early morning.

The sound of the hospital wing doors opening startled her, and she quickly turned her head to see Neville peeking around the edge. He looked worried, so Hermione summoned the energy to smile at him, hoping it was more of a reassuring smile than a grimace. She felt as bone-weary and achy as she normally did after the full moon but had suffered no other injuries. It seemed her wolf approved of its new accommodations. By the time Neville made his way over to her hospital bed, Hermione had eased herself into a reclining position, propped up by a few pillows. He pulled up a chair from the wall nearby and sank down into it, saying, "I was worried about you when I couldn't find you after dinner yesterday. I went to find Professor McGonagall, and she said you hadn't been feeling well. Are you alright?"

Hermione nodded. "I'll be fine after some rest. Madam Pomfrey let me spend the night, but I'm feeling much better now."

The mediwitch bustled over just then, saying, "Speaking of which, here are your potions, dear."

The young witch was unfamiliar with the potions and looked at them quizzically but tossed them back, grimacing slightly at the taste. The pounding in her head instantly eased, and the achy, feverish feeling that sent chills down her spine every few minutes was suddenly more bearable. She mustered up a real smile for the nurse, grateful for the extra help.

I could get used to this kind of special treatment after the full moon, she thought.

She was touched that Neville cared enough to come looking for her and that someone - she assumed Professor McGonagall - had taken the time to bring her back from the shack after she had resumed her human form. She wasn't surprised she had slept through being transported such a great distance, as she always slept like the dead for a day or two after the moon. Having her body completely rearrange itself twice over the course of one night tended to make her feel like she had some catching up to do in the sleep department.

Hermione did her best to reassure her friend that she was, in fact, alright. But his level of concern caused her to worry. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to keep her condition under wraps if he was already this concerned after just a single full moon. She might have to do a better job covering for herself when she left in the future, claiming she was just going to bed early or that she would be studying in her room or some such thing to keep him from looking for her before breakfast the next morning. As it was, the potions helped enough that she felt up to going down to eat with Neville and the other Gryffindors. She sent Neville out into the hall to wait while she quickly dressed before she pocketed her wand from the bedside table and traipsed out to meet him.

Neville seemed to be keeping a close eye on her for the rest of the day, but he didn't bring up their visit to the hospital wing in front of the other students, keeping his concerns to himself. But Hermione was aware of his eyes on her as she ate and after as she went about her usual school day. She felt better and better over the next few days, and her improved health seemed to ease his concern so things could go back to normal. Hermione spent less and less time focusing on her research regarding the trapdoor in the third floor corridor and whatever the three-headed dog might be hiding. But she kept at it in her free time, borrowing book after book from the library to read through, hoping that one of them might finally lead her to an answer.

XxxX

As she fell easily back into the routine of life at Hogwarts, the weeks passed quickly. The repetitive nature of sleep, meals in the Great Hall, and the occasional more exciting event - like Seamus Finnigan's continual stream of explosion-related mishaps - helped her push through the homesickness. It wasn't long before her second full moon at school was upon her. It was the week before Halloween, and she was surprised by how much the wizarding world celebrated the holiday. She'd overheard many ghost stories in the common room over the past few days. Decorations were being put up, and more pranks than usual were being pulled. She heard Fred and George Weasley crowing their success over teaming up with Peeves to spread a powder over the Great Hall that turned everyone into a pumpkin for the first ten minutes of breakfast earlier that week. Hermione shook her head. She didn't see the appeal of jokes like that, but it had been rather brilliant magic.

She excused herself from dinner, saying she was going to work on the research project before turning in early and made her way from the Great Hall, hoping Neville wouldn't follow her. He turned back to his conversation with some of the other Gryffindor boys and didn't seem to notice anything funny about her disappearance.

Her walk to the Shrieking Shack was easier this time since it felt more familiar. And though the transformation was as painful as ever, her wolf was happier this time, taking out its extra energy by pouncing around the house, rolling about on the dusty floor and yipping at her feline companion who sat by quietly and refused to join in her shenanigans.

When the light of the full moon broke through the window, she howled her approval repeatedly, relishing in the draw of the moon. It took several hours to wear herself out enough to fall asleep.

XxxX

The next morning found her in the hospital wing once again. Her visitor this time was Professor McGonagall. She looked almost as tired as Hermione felt but smiled at her young charge. "How are you feeling, Miss Granger?"

"I'll be alright," Hermione said, voice slightly raw from barking and howling so much throughout the night.

"You were rather excitable last night," McGonagall said, a wry smile curving her lips.

Hermione looked abashed. "Erm...sorry about that. I don't really know how to control it. Some nights are...busier than others."

McGonagall chuckled. "Busy is one way to put it. I'm glad the moons seem to be easier on you than they were on the student who used the shack years ago. If they continue to go this well, I don't know that you will require my assistance any longer - though you are, of course, welcome to it, if you so desire."

Hermione thought about it. "It might be nice to have help for one more moon to make sure that I am comfortable before I have to go through the night alone in a new place, but I think I should be fine after that," she said, smiling through her exhaustion.

"Of course. I'm happy to help in any way I can."

By the time Hermione made her way down - a little late - for breakfast, the chatter was filled with discussions of the howling that had been heard the night before by some of the older students during Astronomy Class. They said it sounded like it had been coming from Hogsmeade - and, more specifically, the Shrieking Shack. This rumour only seemed to spawn more horror stories from the students - Muggle and wizarding tales alike. Hermione rolled her eyes but sat to eat her breakfast, choosing a spot between Neville and Lavender, who was squealing in fright at a story Oliver Wood was telling across the table.

Neville seemed to be listening to the story as well. As he quietly ate, Hermione smiled at her clumsy, forgetful friend as he exhibited his perfect, pureblood manners, cutting his food into tiny bites and dabbing his mouth every few bites. He didn't remark on the story, choosing instead to pause his methodic eating to smile at Hermione and say, "Good morning. Find anything interesting in your research last night?"

Barely remembering her excuse from the night before in time, she shook her head. "There are so many books in the library, but I'll find the right one eventually."

Shaking his head at her nonchalant and utterly ridiculous answer, he grinned as he went back to his food. "Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?"

XxxX

Remus woke on the cold, dusty wood of the cellar floor, covered in bruises. His nose was bleeding, and he had a new gash along his ribs. He moaned in agony as he rolled from his wounded side onto his back, tears springing to his eyes from the pain.

He hadn't had a full moon this bad in ages.

Gingerly lifting his hand, he whispered, "Accio wand," ignoring the shaking of his arm as he waited for the length of cypress to arrive from its hiding place in a narrow, sunken shelf above the wolf's reach. It took a little longer than usual, and he sighed in frustration. He was used to functioning in a permanently exhausted state, but it wasn't often that he was so bad off that his magic was affected. He pointed his wand at the wound along his ribs, silently begging Merlin to give him the power to heal it.

The speed the muscle and skin knit back together was so slow Remus was breaking out in a sweat from the effort by the end of it. He was immensely grateful it had been inflicted by something in the cellar instead of Moony's own claws or teeth. Those ones didn't respond to healing spells. Wounds from Dark creatures never did.

Remus sighed and cast an Aguamenti straight into his mouth, far too exhausted to get up and make his usual pot of post-moon tea.

As he drifted in and out of sleep, draped only in a tattered blanket on the gouged wooden floors of the cellar of his childhood home, his thoughts wandered to his daughter. A day didn't go by that he didn't think of her. She had been at Hogwarts for nearly two months now. Moony seemed to be as aware of the fact as Remus was, spending the entirety of the full moon throwing himself against the cellar doors in an attempt to get to his cub. Remus wasn't sure what that was about since he hadn't acted that way since the early days on his own after that first, horrible Halloween night ten years before. Moony hated being alone, that much was obvious. As soon as Remus knew where his daughter would be during the full moons - assuming she used the Shrieking Shack, like he had - Moony had done everything in his power to escape and find her.

He was tempted to send her a letter or gift - anything to help himself feel like he'd done something right by the girl. Something to connect to the little bit of pack he had left in the world. The thought of sending her a Christmas gift had crossed his mind many times recently. He was torn but thought he'd probably err on the side of caution when the holiday finally rolled around. She had two loving parents - what use could she have for the broken man who had given her the gift of magic and the curse of lycanthropy?

A/N: I don't know who nominated this story for the 2017 Marauder Medals (best WIP), but I could freaking kiss you! I am thrilled, honored, and just about every other happy feeling I can think of. I am up for five different nominations over there (including best up and coming author...wut?), so go check them out! My amazing betas for this story, Mahawna and Synoir, are also nominated in various categories, as are some of my other writer friends. Go read all the things! They're amazing.

I hope those of you who wanted Remus to send Hermione a birthday gift liked the little nod to that here. He doesn't actually know her birthday, the way things worked out in earlier chapters. He potentially could have looked it up in her file, but he was far more worried about finding her to save her life.

Also, take a moment to drool over the AMAZING cover art that was gifted to me by Fine Mournings. I am absolutely in love with it! Swoon... In case you didn't know, my fancast for Remus is James McAvoy. ;)

Thanks for your patience with the slower updates the past couple of weeks. I've been writing like crazy on a few other (yet to be posted) stories, so hopefully those will be up soon! Next up...Halloween!