I know, I know...it's been over a year. Don't hate me, I just lost my muse for a while. And my notes got thrown into the pool around the same time I lose contact with my beta. But I'm back, and if Janele has anything to say about it, I'll be updating way more frequently. All mistakes are my own, seeing as how I no longer have a beta, and I take full responsibility for them. Chapter four is being written as we speak and I'm trying to plan out chapter five...so expect to be hearing from me more often. Oh, and Janele, this chapter is dedicated to you- you wanted more of our dear sexy Remus. Does this work for you? Because I gotta tell you, this is was a blast to write for me and I look forward to doing more scenes like this.

Bad Moon Rising

By: CattyRose

Chapter Three – Every Breath You Take

October 10, 1996 – 5:43 AM

Shifting restlessly against the sheets, Remus muttered something intelligible and reached across the bed, searching for the elusive warmth he instinctively knew belonged there. Even in sleep, the werewolf's mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown when he failed to find the warmth he was seeking.

Huffing out a sigh, he twisted amongst the covers, the furrow in his brow becoming more pronounced as the minute hand of the clock crept slowly forward.

January 13, 1978

Chocolate eyes darted up and down the hall, seeking help that would never come, or perhaps escape. "What do you want from me?" She questioned, her voice surprisingly level as she trembled against him.

"I don't want anything from you," he retorted sharply, amber eyes darkening as he leaned his head closer to sniff at her neck. "I want you,"the werewolf confessed, nipping sharply at her pulse. The redhead pinned between the wall and his body gasped, inhaling sharply, and he couldn't help the rumbling chuckle that escaped, hanging in the air between them.

The sound shivered down her spine, feral and unashamed, and she tried to swallow the answering moan that built up in her throat. Lips thankfully parted soundlessly, and she fought the urge to squirm against his hold."Let me go, Remus," she begged, sounding positively shaken.

"Never," he swore, pulling back slightly to survey his work. Chocolate eyes were nearly black with desire, and as her chest heaved with the effort to catch her breath, he found himself following her flush from her cheeks, and down her neck, eyes lingering on the livid purple contrasting sharply against the pale pink skin, to where it finally disappeared under her shirt. Looking quite pleased with himself, he pushed off the wall with his shoulder and smirked. "Run," he said simply.

Ginevra stood frozen in place, missing his warmth and far too stunned to move. "Run," the blond repeated, "But know I'll always give chase." Snapping into action at the dark promise in his voice, she didn't hesitate to do as he asked, fleeing down the empty corridor as though the hounds of hell were chasing her.

Honey eyes snapping open, Remus John Lupin jolted into wakefulness with a gasp, feeling as though he had been hit with a jolt of lightning. "What," he croaked, voice oddly hoarse, "the bloody hell was that?"

Deep in the bowels of the professor's mind, Moony raised his head and let loose a bark of laughter. "Ours," the wolf thought snidely, knowing his human would never hear. "That was ours. She is ours and will be again. Soon."

October 11, 1996 – 7:38 PM

"All right, Miss Weasley. Let's hear it," the usually stern Transfiguration Mistress ordered, the soft smile on her face at odds with her brisk tone.

The redhead's eyes widened a fraction, but she refused to let herself seem guilty. All she had done was a bit of research out of curiosity. She hadn't tried to rush the transformation or do anything against the rules. "Hear what, Professor," she questioned softly, her heart in her throat. This meant so much to her, and the idea she had blown it simply because she had wanted to know more absolutely terrified her.

"Do you take me for a fool, Miss Weasley," the Scottish witch queried, her voice nearly glacial. "I have been teaching Transfiguration for longer then you have been alive. I know how students' minds work." Face gentling, she continued. "I, myself, did much the same as you did, my dear. Once I found my form, I went and took out every book I could find on animals and animal symbolism. Now, tell me what you've learned."

Ginevra flinched at the accusation in her head of house's tone, keeping her gaze firmly glued to the hands that were twisting and turning in her lap nervously. "Wolves are...social predators. They live in packs and hunt together. Amongst those packs are several nuclear families, a breeding pair and their offspring," she mumbled, finally looking up, as though asking for permission to continue, which was was granted by a small nod.

"The hierarchy in a wolf pack neutralizes aggression, reduces conflict and promotes social order, and there's two hierarchies in any pack; one for females and one for males. The top of the hierarchy seldom changes, it's mostly within the lower ranks that changes occur frequently. Submissive behavior plays a big role in maintaining peace within the pack. Pups are considered to be low ranking in the hierarchy, but they have a lot of privileges and social freedom, because well, they're just kids and they don't know any better." Again the girl snuck a glance at her professor, trying to gauge whether she should keep going or not.

"Continue, Miss Weasley," the tartan clad woman finally interjected, sensing her student's confusion.

"They are designed for running, catching, and killing large animals although they're opportunistic and will usually try to catch the easiest and most vulnerable animal. Although they can easily kill healthy animals, they instinctively seek out sickly, weak, crippled, or vulnerable animals, like the young and the old. Generally speaking, wolves are docile animals with a strong aversion to fighting. To catch enough food, wolves have to hunt often and try a bunch of animals before they find one that they can catch and kill, which is why they have a low success rate when it comes to hunting."

Ginny stopped and took a breath, still fidgeting slightly. "I have loads more, Professor, but I'm not sure what else you want to hear."

The elderly witch smiled, pleased that her cub was taking this so seriously. "I would like to hear it all, had we the time, Miss Weasley. Alas, I'm afraid it's nearly curfew. You had best be getting back to the tower."

The young Gryffindor's eyes widened comically. Had she really been speaking for that long? It hadn't felt like very long at all. Bringing her wrist up to eye level, she peered at her watch and let out a small yelp of surprise. "Oh bugger, I've only got five minutes! Thank you for the lesson Professor," she cried, shooting out of her seat and darting towards the door, only stopping in the doorway long enough to mumble "Sorry about the language, Professor," and wave goodbye before she vanished from view in a sprint.

Minevra McGonagall was not the type to laugh often or easily, not since the last war. As the memories of other such farewells rose to the forefront of her mind's eye, however, her office was filled with the rare sound of her laughter.

October 17, 1996 – 4:51 PM

Ginevra Molly Weasley was relatively sure she was going insane. There was simply no other explanation for it. Wherever she went, whatever she did, she could feel that heavy gaze trained on her. She felt like a rabbit caught in a wolves' den, and it made her entirely too edgy for her own good. Her friends were getting worried, she knew, but there was little she could do to reassure herself, let alone them. Perhaps she was simply being paranoid, but it seemed as though she was always being watched, even when she was certain she was well and truly alone.

At one point, she had briefly entertained going to her head of house, but quickly rid herself of the idea. After all, what proof did she have? Gooseflesh and a constant prickle on the back of her neck? She'd be dismissed before she even finished her explanation. So she avoided going anywhere alone when she could, and rarely ventured out of the Tower after nightfall, sticking to corridors she knew were often traveled and well lit when she did. Nothing she did proved to be of any help, and the redhead found her nerves were quickly fraying.

There was no refuge to be found, no matter what she did. Sleep was becoming more and more elusive in her panicked state, and what little rest she did manage to get was often interrupted by dreams that were mostly forgotten in the light of dawn. Still, the image of intense amber eyes lingered, taunting her with their single-minded focus. And as the days passed, the moon that hung low in the sky grew fuller.

October 21, 1996 – 11:32 AM

"Miss Weasley," the diminutive Charms Professor called, trying to gain his favorite student's attention. "Miss Weasley," he called again, louder this time, trying to be heard over the mob that was attempting to exit his class now that the bell had rung. Unfortunately, today didn't seem to be his day – the youngest Weasley didn't seem to hear him over the excited chattering of her classmates.

Heaving a sigh, the former dueling champion shook his head in defeat and made his way back to his desk, scrambling up the pile of books and settling himself into the chair there as the last of the students made their way out of the room. Drawing the essay nearest to him, Fillius Flitwick unrolled the parchment and began to read, grabbing a quill from a near by ink well to make corrections.

Intent on his task, he never looked up when the door to his classroom opened. It was entirely possible he didn't hear it, and so it was all he could do to keep his dignity when a shadow fell over his desk. Nearly toppling off his chair, he desperately tried to steady himself before putting a hand over his racing heart and looking up. "Goodness, Miss Weasley, you certainly gave me a fright."

The redhead giggled quietly. "Sorry, Professor. Ritchie said you were asking for me, so here I am." Ginny bit her lip and curled her fingers around the strap of her bag a little tighter as she regarded the diminutive man with solemn eyes. "You were asking, weren't you?" A worried gaze flickered towards the door as she waited for his answer, and the youngest Weasley vowed to use her favorite spell on the girl if this was a trick.

"Indeed I was, Miss Weasley. I was hoping to speak with you about Halloween." Seeing his pupil's confusion, he laughed quietly. "I find myself in need of some help to complete the charms necessary to decorate the castle in time and was wondering if you'd like to help, my dear." Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but Flitwick held up his hand. "I know my class does not always challenge your skills and had thought you might perhaps like to learn a few new spells," he explained. "This will, of course, count as extra credit towards your grade should you choose to accept."

A genuine smile lit up the tired young woman's face, and she nodded enthusiastically. "I'd love to, Professor," she cried, before falling silent as she thought it over. Her acceptance had been a knee jerk reaction, and now that she had said yes her concerns were mounting. What about qudditch practice and her animagus lessons?

As if sensing her thoughts, he smiled gently at her. "I assure you Miss Weasley, this project will not interfere with your other commitments. Although I daresay I can not guarantee the same for your free time." The only Weasley girl merely flashed him a rather worn smile and nodded. With a quick thanks aimed his way, she was gone.

Flitwick merely watched her go with growing concern and wondered what he and Minerva were thinking, hanging the fate of their world on such a crazy idea and placing all their hopes onto the slim shoulders of the poor girl besides.

October 26, 1996 – 5:16 PM

Ginny Weasley's week passed in a blur of classes she couldn't quite recall, Halloween decorations that all looked the same, and sleepless nights. By the time dinner on the fifth night was set to arrive, she had reached her wits' end.

"Please Madame Pomfrey, I haven't slept in days," she told the mediwitch, nearly in tears she hated herself for. Ginevra Molly Weasley was not the sort who began to cry at the drop of her hat. Not even falling off her brothers' filched brooms while she was learning to fly had managed to draw a single tear. And yet a few restless nights and a bit of paranoia was pushing her further than she'd ever gone before.

Her mind was constantly fuzzy, her moves were sluggish, and her senses dulled. She could barely catch the quaffle and her food all tasted like air. "Please," she repeated, and the mediwitch began to study her intently. From the paleness of her skin to the dark rings around her eyes, it was clear Madame Pomfrey did not like what she saw in the slightest. "Very well, Miss Weasley. I will give you a dose of dreamless sleep and monitor you tonight as you sleep. Are this terms acceptable?" Ginny merely nodded in response, feeling far too worn to put up a proper fight despite the fact she hated the hospital wing. "Excellent. Why don't you go eat with your friends? There is no sense in sending your body further off balance than it already is by inducing sleep too early."

"Yes Madame Pomfrey," Ginny replied dutifully, climbing off the cot she had been ushered to when she'd first arrived and getting to her feet. Leaving her bag beside the bed, she promised to be back after supper and headed for the Great Hall.

No one said anything about her arriving late to dinner save a few concerned looks, and Ginny settled herself on the bench in between the Creevey brothers. "Thanks for saving me a seat," she said quietly, loading half of what she normally ate onto the fine golden plate. Colin and Dennis exchanged worried looks over her head.

"Ginny, I think you should go see Madame Pomfrey after dinner," Colin finally said when he realized she wasn't going to say anything else. Ginevra turned to look at him and blinked, her face slightly disinterested and more than a little confused. "Gin, did you hear what I said?"

"I'm fine, Colin," she snapped, allowing her fork to fall from her fingers to the plate. All she had been doing was pushing her food around anyway. "And I heard you. Now please, leave it alone."

"NO! I won't leave it alone, Gin. Something's obviously wrong! You don't eat, you can't focus, and you look like you haven't slept in weeks. We're only concerned because we're your friends, Ginny. So please, just humor us and go to the hospital wing, would you?"

The redhead swallowed hard and nodded. Merlin, it must have been bad if even Dennis had noticed. "I was supposed to go back anyway," she conceded grumpily, climbing off the bench. She wasn't terribly hungry to begin with, which is why she hadn't even pretended to eat. "I'll not be coming back to the tower later. Madame Pomfrey wants me to stay the night," the witch admitted softly, squeezing Colin's arm. It was as close to an apology as he was going to get right now with her so out of sorts, and they both knew it. She'd just have to make it up to him later.