A/N: Because I tend to work without much of a safety net, you ended up with this. Blame my complete lack of sober up potion. *blinks* Also~ There is a snippet of Werewolves of London (circa 1978) by Warren Zevon somewhere in this tripe. Don't ask why. I have no excuses.

As always, read it and let me know what you think...

Hermione received a note on the last Friday of July about Draco's upcoming transformation. Once she'd read it, a blush was not far behind and her boss, Adrian, took it upon himself to make her blushing, worse. Of course, he loved to tease her, just as much as Theo ever had when she'd been stuck in the Potions lab, but his teasing held an underlying hint of wanting, one she was hard-pressed to ignore.

"Ah, sweetest Hermione, our esteemed leader needs you, yet again. If I owled you, would your face turn just as pink? Would you come...just as fast? Should I try?"

She shivered at his seductive tone, his baritone sending skittering shivers up her spine. Of course, he smiled at her, his light hazel eyes gleaming, mobile mouth smirking. It was enough to drive her right round the twist but she tried like hell to ignore it. After all, it was just an Alpha thing, right? He was one, just like Draco and Blaise (or maybe it was just a Slytherin thing?) and she responded to him in much the same fashion. She had no choice, it was what she was made for!

"Ah, dearest Adrian, if you owled me for anything beyond this charm, I would fear for my virtue, tainted as it is. We both know work is your mistress."

He snorted a laugh; his lean, lightly muscled frame bent nearly double at her reply. However, that didn't stop his own snarked response. "Work may well be my mistress, luv, but the position of wife will always be open for you."

"Ah screw you, Pucey!" Hermione couldn't think of anything more and that set him into another round of laughter at her expense. "Fucker!"

With another smile, Hermione cleared her workstation and gathered up her notebooks. She knew she'd not be returning once she met with Draco, he wouldn't allow it, so it was much smarter to get her things in order before her departure, right? She checked her spell work once more, made a notation about the background for Episkey and Ferula (Both used for pain relief ) and debated the need for further reading. However, time was of the essence and so she settled her sheaf of papers into a folder and sent all of it to the filing cabinet with naught but a wordless wave of her hand.

"Every time you do something like that, Granger, my heart skips a beat. Are you quite positive I can't owl you?" Adrian sounded slightly awed, his deep voice no more than a low velvet rasp.

Hermione chuckled and headed for the exit. "I am quite sure. Malfoy would throw a fit."

Her boss laughed and shooed her away.

A few minutes later, Hermione was in Draco's office and pressed against his door as he covered her frame with his own so that he could ravage her with hot, open mouth kisses. She could do no more than twine her fingers into the silken locks that flirted with his nape and once he lifted her, she encircled his waist with her legs. Between kisses, she managed to drag out some words, enough for him to pause at any rate. "Draco, Alpha, do you want someone to come in and see me like this?"

A low, rolling, growl was his response but she was soon returned to a standing position and he had established space between them. His left hand rose to tug at his hair, further destroying the usually staid strands. His gaze, silver, and gold, found hers and a slight smirk graced his features."Sorry, love." An apology without a single shred of sorrow. "I couldn't help it. Are you done for the day?" He cocked his head at a wolfish angle and awaited her response.

"Yes."

"Good. Go home and get clothes for the next few weeks. You'll be staying with Tobias and me for the foreseeable future."

Hermione nodded and moved away to make use of his floo. However, before she could do much more than scoop up some floo powder, his growly tenor halted her escape. "Don't come back to work. I will come to you once I've done for the day and gotten my potions for the week."

She nodded, called out for home, stepped into the emerald flames and was gone.

Draco arrived via floo, a little after six. He did not really speak, only picked up her trunk, shrunk it and shoved it into his front pocket before grabbing her hand and returning to the fireplace. Within seconds, the pair stepped out into the vast reaches of the Manor's library. Again, the tall young man eschewed words, only tugged at her hand so that she would follow him~ up the main staircase to a smaller less grand set of stairs located in the west wing which led up to the third floor. Two large hallways, first a left and then a right, were traversed until finally, he had stopped and pushed open a door.

"This will be your suite while you are here." A smile, brief, real. "It will also be yours once we marry. Ultimately, this is just yours. You may change anything that does not suit." He tapped a large piece of parchment with his wand and handed it to her. She glanced down and gave a brief huff of laughter. He'd made her a map. "This," he continued, "will help you find your way around. Your floo, which is in the sitting room, is connected to The Leaky, your apartment, and the business. However, I ask that you don't have visitors until after my shift. It will make things easier for both of us."

Hermione nodded and held out one small palm for her trunk. He dropped it to the floor, muttered the counter-charm and turned his gaze back to hers. She finally spoke, breaking the impromptu silence. "Thanks, Draco. I assume we will eat breakfast and dinner together most nights?" He nodded in response. "And is there anything you think I should not do while you are dealing with the newness of this?"

"Allow no male to touch you, not even Potter and Weasley. Avoid lunch dates. Plan to be by my side at night. I want to sleep next to you. Having your scent in my nostrils will do much to calm the wolf." He paused. "And me."

She nodded. "No problem. I will explore my new habitat and call for an elf to put my things away. Do you need me to do anything else?"

"Bathe. I can smell Pucey in your hair. Makes me irritable. Then dinner about eight. Should give you time."

Hermione spent at least half an hour investigating the four rooms that made up her suite. There was the bedroom, of course, done in shades of cream, beige and crimson that contained one of the largest beds she'd ever seen and a lovely study filled with empty bookcases and solid office furniture. To the left of the study was her sitting room, ladylike in design, which continued the color scheme from the bedroom. The fireplace was HUGE and well cleaned which practically guaranteed that guests would not have to do much brushing of their clothes once they'd arrived.

It was the bathroom which took her breath, though.

That room reminded her of the prefect's bath at Hogwarts as the tub had the length and depth of a small swimming pool. No matter where she glanced, her gaze was met by gleaming expanses of marble and treated copper, giving the entirety a warm glow. Candles were placed in discrete holders and scattered throughout and there was a large closet filled with robes, towels, and bath things such as her favorite lotions and hair supplies. Hell, even the vanity was perfect!

She wasted NO time in making use of the facilities!

The week prior to Drao's shift was spent with a sort of schedule, one that was easily adhered to. In fact, for the most part, she was unsure as to why he'd been so determined to keep her away.

Snapshot

Every morning Hermione awakened with him, his well-muscled frame cradled against hers, protectively. Then it was off to her rooms to bathe and change while he did the same in his. Soon after, there was breakfast along with his daily dose of wolfsbane and then out; either to the woods, gardens or job. Lunch was avoided while working, Draco's temper was much worse due to his tenuous control and the scent of lingering males on her skin caused issues neither of them could handle, not yet.

So lunch was eaten in his office (rare) or not at all (the usual).

Their workday ended at six, something Hermione found annoying as she was used to putting in long hours. Though she understood why the schedule was needful, she disliked the knowledge that his well-being was tied so tightly to her own. It felt almost like a lack of choice and that sucked. She accepted it anyway.

She had to.

She loved him.

Dinner was a quiet affair though she did enjoy talking with Tobias and Theo on the nights when Draco was too tense to converse (which started on Tuesday and progressed through Friday night), By ten, they were in bed with her (usually) beneath him as he nipped, licked, bit and stroked her into a conflagration of heat and sensory explosions. The closer it got to the full moon, the more time she spent joined to him, her inner walls stretched to overflowing, her cervix battered, bathed in his essence.

He never hurt her, though.

Not ever.

Get the picture?

Eventually, it was Saturday morning and the full moon was set to be 100% visible. Tension had ramped up to an impossible level and left everyone on edge. Tobias had shifted Friday night and had retreated to the library and (oddly enough) onto the couch that housed her sleeping form, his heavily muscled frame guarding her. She'd only awakened once he'd shifted back, his body nude, his face crimson with embarrassment. As for Draco's reaction? There hadn't been one. It was as if Tobias was supposed to keep her safe for him...and that was just odd to her.

Moonrise found Hermione at the woods' edge, slender frame cradled in the branches of an old oak tree. She watched as Draco skirted along the edges, his body bent almost double against a weight she could not even begin to imagine and it was with her heart in her throat that she watched as he fell to the ground in a jumbled heap.

She heard, far more than saw, the rip of cloth and pained gasps. She heard, more than saw, the crack of something that could only be bone and her heart damned near broke when she heard the shrill scream of pain that morphed into ratcheting sobs that became howls, almost half an hour later. Why had anyone ever believed that the fucking transformation took only a short amount of time? Had anyone ever actually heard that crack or listened to the screams beyond those in the order who had befriended Remus?

Stupid gits, the lot of them.

She did not attempt to climb down from her perch, not until a few hours later when she noted both wolves~ russet and white, large at shoulders, short of tail and snout~ as they waited, patiently, beneath her tree. Her gaze flitted from Tobias to silver/gold glitter gleam of Draco's own gaze and she noted, almost analytically, the way they seemed to measure her responses. It was that reaction which hastened her descent.

She did not move once her feet touched down, did not dare so much as a breath until she felt the small pack as they bumped against her legs, felt HIM as he mouthed her wrist and gave a brisk tug, all without breaking the skin. Then she breathed, then she moved, followed her wolves into the dark gray/green/black of the woods which held a mystery she'd only ever experienced in dreams.

She awakened in the woods with her Alpha curled behind her and Tobias gone.

In the silence she felt Draco shift as he awakened, felt his lips as they touched her nape, felt his breath as he whispered, "Good morning." and for once, she allowed a precarious peace to surround her. Because those two words meant that he could (and would) share this with her and that they could handle this life, their lives, together.

Hermione twisted, shifted, moved, to press her head to the broad expanse of his chest as her hands petted and stroked velvet flesh so that she could whisper a return greeting of her own. A kiss was given, received, given again and finally, finally, he said; "I love you. Let's go home."

Sunday morning dawned with birdsong and laughter.

It was enough.

Well, I saw Lon Chaney walking with the Queen
Doing the Werewolves of London
I saw Lon Chaney, Jr. walking with the Queen
Doing the Werewolves of London
I saw a werewolf drinking a piña colada at Trader Vic's
And his hair was perfect