A/N- Sorry, this chapter had no fluff at all. The next chapter has plenty. I promise! I based most of this off of pictures from Thewlis' movie Naked.

The following week was the worst Hermione had ever endured. The news of her and Remus divorce was slow to get out but once it did Hermione got no peace or quiet from it. People started to congratulate her at work. Letters came to her daily asking her if she would rather marry them because they were also under the law.

She kept worrying what was happening to Remus in that awful place. The dementors were the worst creatures she had ever encountered. Being in that place for so long with no happiness, and nothing that even suggested the prisoners were still human. The worst was that Sunday was the full moon. Hermione knew that they would have no trouble keeping the wolf in his cell, but with nothing to help heal him afterwards, and with no bed or blankets….

The worst of all this business was Ron. Hermione had dreaded what he was going to say, but it wasn't until Sunday that he showed up. Hermione had been busy at her house, planning what she was about to attempt the next day and wishing that Ginny and Harry were there to offer her assistance. Sirius had been surprisingly helpful; he was the closest to Remus and thus and the most worried. He had tried to convince Tonks to help, the plan would be much easier for her, but she adamantly refused.

Ron didn't even bother to ring the doorbell. He simply barged in the front door. Hermione heard the noise and came marching out, wand poised to attack, but relaxed it only slightly when she saw it was Ron.

"I'm busy, Ron. Leave."

"I've come to see if you want me back, after ditching the halfbreed."

"Ron! Do not use that term! What's happened to you? You weren't like this before?" She realized this was not true however. When Ron had found out that Lupin was a werewolf, his first instinct was "Get away from me, werewolf!" Ron was raised with the old wizarding thoughts that neither Hermione nor Harry had.

"Hermione, I've always cared about you. I hated seeing you with him. You and me were so perfect."

She shook her head. "Ron, as friends were fine. But I could never talk to you. It was always about you. You never cared about me. Ever!"

He took a step towards her and instinctively she took a step back. Ron's voice started to drip with annoyance. "Hermione, don't play coy. I know that you want me."

"All I want from you is for you to get out of my house. NOW!" She raised her wand.

"You won't really jinx me. Not good girl Gran-"

She waved her wand and sent him flying out the front door. She locked it shut and put up wards she knew he couldn't break. Near tears again, she went about what she had been doing before.

Remus was lying in his cell. He had lost complete track of time, but he knew the full moon must be soon. That was about the one rational thought that he had. When he had first got there, he had thought only about that look of anguish on Hermione's face as she saw him being carted away, but Hermione was associated in his mind with happy events and the dementors soon sapped him of any cheerful thoughts. All he thought of was regret that he had not listened to Hermione. His foolish bravery and stupidity had gotten in the way again.

There were no beds or blankets in Azkaban. They let him keep on the clothes he was wearing when he was arrested and that was it. He lay on the floor the whole time, shivering in the cold, curled up in a corner. In the opposite corner was a small container for a toilet. Food was brought twice a day, a small, meager portion that was just enough to keep him alive. There was no way he could survive a full moon here. It required too much energy. Energy that he did not have.

On Monday morning Dolores Umbridge cheerfully went into her office and found an owl on her desk with a letter requesting a visit with her about the marriage of Remus Lupin. She was prepared to read it and add it to the cindering pile in her wastebasket with all the other ones. They all wanted to help the poor, caged werewolf. If she accepted all those letters the Ministry would have a field day. This letter however, this one showed promise.

Remus Lupin lay sprawled out on the cold, dirty floor. He had forgotten to remove his clothes before the transformation and fragments of them remained clinging to him sadly. He didn't have enough emotion in him to care. He just lay there, each breath harder to take than the next one. He couldn't even raise himself to eat the sad meal they called breakfast.

A middle aged woman was walking into Dolores Umbridge's office with a very no nonsense look on her face. She was wearing a burgundy business suit; her long black hair tied flowing loosely around her shoulders. She was interested in the marriage of Remus Lupin, as her letter had stated, because she was interested in experimenting different treatments of curing lycanthropy and needed a younger candidate. The file she held in one manicured hand held all her previous attempts. There was a small sheet in the back that listed the names of the lycans she had tested on near the number of fatalities. The numbers matched up perfectly. None had survived.

A half hour later a delighted Umbridge walked the woman out of her office and handed her the legal marriage documents to sign. The lady did so and it disappeared in a flurry of sparks. The woman left with the assurance that she come to Azkaban the following Monday to retrieve her husband.

Hermione Granger went through another week of worry about what was happening to Remus and stubbornly refused to be comforted by anyone; numerous members of the Order had stopped by to wish her luck with her plan. Every night after work she cried herself to sleep, blaming herself for signing her name. Everyday that went by meant another day of torment for Remus.

Remus was still lying in his cell, waiting for death. His cuts from his transformation had not healed. They had gotten worse from all the grime on the floor. He had barely enough strength to go and relive himself and to go eat. Most days he didn't even know why he bothered. He figured the infections from his cuts would slowly kill him eventually.

On Monday, the middle aged woman with black hair was back wearing a dark navy business suit and carrying a large dog cage. Remus was only slightly aware of being shoved into the cage and being carried out of the prison.