Authors Note

So I'm going to set an update time for every friday if possible. I'm not going to make any promises because I do indeed have a life that can sometimes pull me away for a couple of months. It's chill though, I have plans to get this shit done.

Again I don't own diddly shit except the plot

enjoy.

But what, dear Red, if the wolf was not to eat you?

What if he were to instead,

Make a deal that required a simple 'yes' or 'no'?

Would you take that deal, little Red?

Would you take that deal

with the big bad wolf?

Things had started out great in Bill Weasley's marriage. There had been no complaints, no fuss, nothing but love. Everything was going absolutely swimmingly. The full moons would roll around, Fleur would give him his space, he'd run deep into the forest, shifting into the beast he'd been forced into, and come back the next morning feeling alive and happy. It had all been going so well in fact, he'd forgotten about something Remus had warned him about early on. After all who dwells on things that probably aren't ever going to happen? Certainly not William Arthur Weasley. Call it an effect of the wolf blood in him, but there was only the present that mattered to him, not the past or so much the future. While he did plan on having children (an urge almost primal due to his added wolfish qualities), the future was not much of a worry to him. He'd been living in the present with his lovely wife, and everything was just fine.

Until, the night it seemed the thing Remus had warned him of, the thing he'd forgotten, had come true. The primal needs of a werewolf were far from that of ordinary wizard. Though they didn't have as many needs, the few they had were very important, and in the cases of those who were considered alphas, were not to be ignored. Going into his marriage he'd warned Fleur, told her straight that some things he simply couldn't control, like the urge to feed and ultimately breed. Fleur, though she was very intelligent, did not seem to heed his warning very much attention. For some reason, the Veela had felt as if he would be the same man he'd always been, that he had never been 'bitten' in a sense. He was just regular old Bill Weasley, the super cool eldest Weasley. That had been her mistake.

Upon the eve of the full moon, his usual attitude change occurred, only it was accompanied by the hungering urge to claim the woman he'd been married to. Marriage, Bill soon came to find, was simply a bullshit legal term that could be terminated whenever one party found it necessary. What Bill had intended to do with Fleur on the full moon, was far greater than that of wizarding marriage laws, for it was nature. Primal, untamable, nature. He should of known Fleur was not the type to agree to submitting to his primal nature.

Fleur was, to put it simply, submissive. Dainty like a faerie and sweet like honey. These things, did not go with Bill's new and improved self. Bill found out rather quickly that he was an alpha, from the one time he'd seen Remus shifted, he'd noticed startling differences between his form and Remus's. While Remus looked like a sphinx cat that had been drug through mud and water, and then strung up by his toes, Bill was...different. He stood at a massive 8 foot tall, covered in red fur that glistened into the night shimmering with the moon. His features were undoubtedly lupine, and the ears stood pointed on his head like a doberman's. His long red hair turned into that of a red mane cascading down his shifted form's back, and sooner than later he found he and Remus simply could not continue their hunts together. He was afraid, that he'd hurt the old man. Regardless of mortal connections the beast within found only one thing important, and that was domination.

Soon, Bill found himself locked in solitude on the nights the moon was full, and more recently the nights leading up to it. It seemed, that the simple fact of not having some form of a mate or pack to run with him infuriated the inner wolf, and his sexual urges upon returning to the cottage the next day were growing to be outrageous. He'd come home, and of course, find aid in his wife, but soon he was growing to be increasingly too much for her. He found it harder to control his urges, and eventually Fleur began to accuse him of being a savage. She just didn't understand.

Eventually Bill grew tired of it, so tired that his mood for an entire month resembled that of how it was for the three days around the full moon. Chalk it up to him having a severe case of blue balls and the fact his wife would not allow him to touch her. She'd scream and wail, crying out when even the slightest touch was offered that offended her in any way. Fleur would fling herself up to the room and slam the door and for the rest of the night Bill sensitive ears were subject to her wailing torture.

He'd been so caught up in all of the drama with Fleur, he'd lost track of when the moon was actually going to be full, and it had ended badly for both of them.

It had rolled up upon him like the tide, Fleur yapping in his ear, begging, whining, and wailing at him to change. He'd kept his cool for the most part, but as their argument transgressed it ended up with her cornering him, and he was so caught up with trying to get away with her the shift him him like a storm. He'd grown to his full height, tearing away that pasty, hot, pale skin of his to adorn his usual red pelt. In their small guest bathroom no less. His senses had been clouded, and the only thing that registered in his mind was the prominent smell of Fleur's fear. Fear, in itself, disgusted Bill beyond all reasonable doubt. While he was a regular old wizard, fear had been something he could understand, but he was no longer regular. Canine creatures, from what Bill could gather of the magical ones, did not enjoy fear. It made them randy, and the need to hump (or dominate) whatever showed fear was extreme. Bill found as a werewolf, he was no different.

Bill still congratulated himself on not killing Fleur, no matter how shallow that may have sounded. He'd come deathly close to ruining her pretty features for life, and as soon as he'd broke down the door of the cottage and peeled out of there with the torn remnants of her skirt in his teeth she'd fled back to france. He was glad. Bill had loved Fleur more than anyone before, but that did not mean they were good for one another. He wasn't even fully sure Veela and wolf blood could mix, and if it turned out they couldn't it would have ended with one of the parties getting hurt emotionally anyway. It was good she'd left, though sad, Bill couldn't deny he wasn't relieved. He needed someone who could keep up with him physically. Someone who'd go on midnight runs beneath the full moon regardless if she were a werewolf or not. He needed someone who would let him do the things his inner beast pleaded for him to do.

Bill needed to be wild, and he needed for whoever he chose to be his to understand that. It was only necessary.

Now, in the present, nothing could have prepared him for the image he'd bore witness to. It was almost surreal, seeing Granger standing out in the pouring cold rain, seemingly lost in her own little world. It had worried him, for wasn't this the brightest witch of her age? The witch his brother had been pushing to marry as soon as the dust of war settled? What could she possibly be doing standing in front of the Leaky Cauldron just asking to get some sort of sickness from the god awful downpour. Her reaction to him had been unusual, and the fact she looked as though someone had broke her in half left him feeling uneasy. What could possibly be going on? Bill had not asked of course, just gotten her inside and purchased the two rooms in attempt to get the soaked woman into the warmth, before she became a frozen statue.

Though they didn't speak much on their lovers, he could tell something had definitely happened between her and Ron, in fact he could almost feel it within the marrow of his bones. It made him nervous. He was the last person on earth that wanted to deal with a bitching Ronald Weasley, the last person who wanted to get shoved in the middle in whatever the hell was going on with Hermione and his brother. He could only pray to whatever powers that be that Rita Skeeter had not been one of the many to see him practically dragging the broken witch to her room. He also prayed that he didn't regret tugging the witch out of her soaking wet clothes. While it occurred to him he could cast a drying charm, but some part of him shrugged that notion off and continued to aid the woman. Hermione was not unconscious, but he definitely wouldn't have called the girl conscious either. She continued to move groggily as he helped her, still not meeting his gaze as they worked.

When he finally did get her to look at him, he'd regretted it almost instantly.

Hermione Granger did not add up to the stories he'd heard of her, or the girl he'd seen valiantly charging into battle against he-who-must-not-be-named, and though he'd never paid her much attention on the account of Fleur being the then love of his life, he'd still known her to do great things. This Hermione looked hollow, and broken. Like her world had caved in around her, like she'd lost something, or….someone.

"Hermione?" their eyes locked, and he wondered vaguely if she'd take some sort of potion to get high before he'd unintentionally stumbled upon her. Her eyes, they were so-vacant. So empty. Bill gulped, tilting the woman's head up with his finger to gain a better look. There wasn't anything on the surface that appeared long term, but that wasn't to say she still didn't look utterly out of it. "Can you tell me if you've taken anything?" she blinked slowly, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

"No." it was barely above a whisper, and Bill thanked the Merlin for his enhanced hearing, otherwise he'd be asking her to repeat, and she didn't seem able. She fidgeted under his gaze, eyes shifting around the room now. At least now she was somewhat responsive and not completely void of everything. "No, I've not taken anything." he watched as she pointed her gaze down at her lap, breaking eye contact with him again.

"Al'ight then...well..could you explain what is wrong then?" she glanced back up at him, eyes returning to their state of vacancy. Her eyes fell to her lap once more and she was silent, almost deathly so. It made Bill nervous, he wouldn't admit it but the dead quiet made him twitchy. Call it PTSD or whatever you wanted, it didn't matter to him. "Please 'Mione?" he'd heard Harry and Ron use the nickname, so he figured it'd get some answers from her. He was wrong.

"Don't call me that." he flinched at her tone, mumbling an apology under his breath as he glanced at her knees, trying to shield the pink that flushed his cheeks. "Ron calls me that, and I can assure you, that the last thing I want right now is to be reminded of Ron." Bill's ears pricked in curiosity. Why wouldn't she wish to be reminded of the man she was soon to be wed?

"How am I supposed to tell the family?" tell them what? Merlin how he wished she'd spit out a straightforward answer. Yes, she seemed to be angry at Ron, but couples fought all the time. Sometimes even fights like this could be repaired. So what was she supposed to tell the family? What was so bad that her and his notoriously thick-skulled brother couldn't somehow work out? After all she'd put up with his bullshit this long, it seemed the woman would almost be the only one to manage the idiot. "Yes, hi everyone Ron and I aren't getting married anymore because he's been fondling Lavender Brown behind my back." she let out a noise and flung herself upwards, successfully knocking bill on his arse as she did so.

He looked up her as she continued her tirade around the room, ranting and raving about his younger brother with the ferocity of a scolding Mcgonagall. She was quite the sight, all worked up and flustered. He realized rather casually that Hermione wasn't wearing any clothes. Yes she had on her lingerie, but that wasn't exactly something you tended to want your ex future brother in law seeing you in. He wouldn't deny how nice her knickers made her round rear look, it was sinful but he never claimed to be a saint. Had it always had that slight jiggle when she walked? Had he just never noticed? Maybe Fleur's Veela appeal truly had blinded the old wolf.

"Bill…?" he blinked, looking up at the woman who'd halted her ranting. He surely hoped she hadn't noticed his silent admiration of her ass, because it wasn't exactly polite to stare at a woman's derriere while she was going off about her ex fiance that just so happened to be his brother.

"Hmm?"

"I'm in my unders."

"That you are."

"Bill?"

"Yes?"

"Get out."

Authors endnote:

The regular update times should be anything by Friday, I'll probably end up updating much sooner than that as I'm really pumping these out, but regardless I hope you all enjoy. Stay tuned for the next chapter!