"Can I clear my conscience, if I'm different form the rest, do I have to run and hide?"

~Imagine Dragons

Her neck throbbed horribly as she tried to open her weary, heavy eyes. Through her slit vision, all she could make out was white, with a blob of lime-green rushing hither-tither.

"Ughmm," she gurgled out.

She tried to lift her neck, and as a sharp pain shot through it, she fell back on the pillow.

"Careful there, dearie, you'll not want to move that neck," a man's voice.

Her vision returned to normal. She was in a white room, with lime-green robed wizards around her.

"Wh-what happened?"

"Your parents came an left you here. Said you got bit-" he stopped speaking suddenly.

Where was she last night? The pain in her neck? The healer stopping at the word 'bit-'

Oh wait. The memories came flooding in her brain.

Night. Joseph. Running away. Werewolves.

Oh shit.

"I- I got bitten? By those werewolves, didn't I ?" her voice came out a mere whisper.

"Um-"

"Didn't I?

"Yeah. Yeah, you did."

"Who brought me here? And- and Joseph? Where is he? Is he okay?"

"Your friend is perfectly fine. Lying right in the bed beside you. He's still unconscious. You better rest, missy."

The incident had come flowing back into her mind like a rising high tide. She was now one of the foulest, damned creatures that the wizarding world had ever known. A werewolf.

What could she do now? An unbearable thought sprung up in her mind like bile and she gagged at the thought.

She was just an ordinary, adopted girl. She was bought into this world, and she hoped to be recognised in. If it hadn't been for her parents, she would probably have been long dead.

And now, the very same parents, the one who taught her how to walk, to speak, probably hate her very existence.

Tears had started to leak from her eyes. She was all alone in this world now, a little lonely bunny.

What could she do now? Where did she have to go to now? Her family had probably deserted her.

She had never felt so useless, so hopeless, so despondent.

"Maia? You there?" came Joseph's voice, raspy.

"Joseph! I'm here, right be-beside you. A-are you okay?" she sobbed.

"Maia! Thank God! Th-those werewolves got us, Maia, I'm so sorry!"

"Y-you've got nothing to be sorry about! It was all my stupid proposition! I shouldn't have suggested anything! Look, I put us both in a life we'll regret!"

Before Joseph could reply, the Healer came rushing back in, bustling towards Joseph, murmuring under his breath rapidly. She could hear only stifled voice for a moment, before Joseph yelped,

"My parents are here! Really! Can I meet them?"

Sure enough, two people came inside, the women sobbing quietly in to her handkerchief.

Joseph looked nothing like his father, except those dark eyes staring around the room. he was tall, lean man, and his clothing did reveal that he was not very affluent, too. His mother, on the other hand, had her son's same mousey brown hair and face.

The family reunited, and Maia dared not look in that direction; not that she could with her neck, anyways.

Besides, the look of a family, a child being comforted by his parents, was unendurable.

She couldn't help it but sob quietly.

The woman seemed to have heard her.

"Dear?"

"She's Maia, mother. Maia Darkwood. I met her there, at the Den. We both tried to escape, you see."

Maia tried to move her neck ever so slightly; a kind face of a short woman loomed over. She was staring at her with wide, blue eyes.

"Dear, is there something wrong?"

"N-nothing."

"Then, brave girls don't cry for nothing, you know. What is it? You can tell me."

"N-no! Please, don't!"

She instinctively yanked her head up and a shooting pain shot through her neck once again, and she lost her consciousness; she had lost her count of the amount of times she had done so.

Margaret Granville was definitely not having a good time. She had warned her husband fruitlessly not to trouble the Werewolves, for the most feared thing had just come true. Her child had been turned.

Now, she heard the sobs of a little girl beside her. She looked around and saw a little child lying on the bed, with a silver paste daubed on her neck, with her long, dark hair a mess. She slowly approached her.

"Dear, is there something wrong?"

"N-nothing."

"Then, brave girls don't cry for nothing, you know. What is it? You can tell me."

"N-no! Please, don't!"

Instinctively, the girl heaved her head up and fainted.

"Healer!" she shouted, as Joseph shouted "Maia!"

The healer came running in, and, calling his trainee, they started to tend to Maia's neck.

She asked the healer about her when they were done and Maia was now sleeping under the effects of the Dreamless Sleep Potion.

"Poor child. Her parents, the Darkwoods happened to wrong the Werewolves," he said, looking at her husband meaningfully,

"Her parents simply left her here and left. Didn't even bother to stay and find out about her condition. They were quite late in bringing her in, she had lost quite a lot of blood. It seems like her parents won't take her in now, they left instructing never to let the child near them."

"But, they were against the Werewolves! Maia told me this herself! Why would they leave her?" exclaimed Joseph.

"We don't know, child. We're unaware. Rich Purebloods, them and their mystery."

A/N: The story will be updated slowly.