Authors Note:
Back again for another round of TSBHL. I'm going to explain some things relating to the new cover photo and the werewolves in this story. Starting with the wolves, all of them are different. I've chosen as reference to use the styles of the ones from the movie Van Helsing (for bill) and the Lycans from Underworld. The way I see it is all of them are different and dynamic, which is why I kept Remus looking like the poor little washed up rat that his wolf looks like (sorry remmy). That being mentioned there are also 'alphas' and 'omegas'. Alphas the more powerful, bigger, badder. Omegas the weaker and more submissive. This story is intended to delve deep into the world of lycanthropy within Harry Potter, of course, since only a few things were mentioned, I'll be using most of my own preferences. No worries, I'll make sure you all enjoy the ride. I should post the fourth chapter later this week, once it is revamped and edited. I find I should mention again, that some of the deaths are different. I haven't killed a lot of people off that died (namely because they were characters I loved and this is my story) I've seen this done before and it shouldn't be a problem. R/R
They say back in the days of old, those who desired power recited sacrificial rituals
where the heart and blood of a wolf was consumed
in order to achieve a might unlike that of any ordinary wizard or witch.
However, things began to get out of hand, and an outbreak of uncontrollable rage shook the world of magic.
Long has this tale been forgotten, all written documents considered highly classified or instinct,
and these creatures whose might and power came from the moon
long since shunned.
Soft hands ran their course through thick peltage, a different experience than what the beast was used to. His entire existence was something most feared, for the fact it seemed almost uncontrollable depending on the moon. He didn't blame them, he was a creature of the night, always unpredictable. However this one, never revealed whether or not she was afraid of him. In fact, the chocolate gaze reflected curiosity, and the need to understand.
He let out a puff of air, fan of mist ghosting against her heart-shaped face, warming her flushed cheeks. The night air was cool and crisp, certainly not a night the little witch should be parading through the snow covered woods in the nude. There was a flicker in her eyes, a message that the beast he'd become didn't understand. Though the creature had animalistic smarts, emotions other than what were natural were hard for him to define.
Her fingers stopped at his lupine cheeks, tightening her grip on tufts of the fur there as she pulled, ever so lightly, tugging him closer. This was new, he couldn't recall the other female wanting him close. Then again, she had smelled like fish, not vanilla, and was so irrelevant she may as well have been a flea on his arse. There was another tug, and he barred long fangs in a mock smile, though it probably looked more like a snarl. His golden monochrome gaze still upon her as she pursed her lips in thought. "Beautiful."
It was highly unusual for Bill to forget his sleep potion. It was even more unusual for him to dream of himself as the thing everyone in the magical world feared. Though the dreams did come, they were few and far between. His wolf didn't speak often, unlike Remus, Bill found himself rarely spoken to by the beast. Remus had told him originally that when the wolf did speak, which it did, it was never in words. Instead, the beast used visions, signs covered in blood or so primal anyone of sane mind would find their guts churning. This one, however, had not been filled with gore or images of death and despair. This one had stirred him in different manners, woken a heat within him that had made him feel...odd. He'd never caught himself dreaming of women.
Admittedly, Fleur had developed a strange scent after his change, a smell that he couldn't rightfully tell her to lose. How did you address the woman you loved, that had always believed she'd smelled wonderful, and tell her that she stunk? He couldn't rightly tell her that she and everyone in her family alike smelled of fish. Remus had laughed at him, telling him it was 'normal' to think Veela smelled awful, but love didn't have a smell. That was bollocks, for Remus had told him strictly that the reason he was so drawn to Tonks was because she didn't smell as though she were using scented soaps. Tonks did, in fact have quite the natural scent, even though it hadn't particularly appealed to Bill as being as wonderful as Remus had put it. To Bill, she'd only smelled like clover. Bill didn't technically enjoy the smell of clover.
That didn't explain his strange, semi erotic, dream. It didn't explain why the wolf had enjoyed the affections of the unknown woman. Rarely did he find anything, female or not, touching him to be enjoyable. Call it an added bonus to wolfdom. He desired solitude, to be alone and never touched, while family had been an exception, rarely did the women who did fawn over him get the chance to come near him. Bill's wolf was picky, a snob of sorts, complete opposite of him. It liked it's women intelligent and fiery, and most of the one night stands Bill had were never close to that description. Though some had been interesting, none clicked his interest like Remus had described. Not even Fleur had gotten him as riled up as when he'd first met her. Again, added bonus thanks to wolfdom. His wife had stunk the cottage up so much he'd had to leave the windows and such open during a thunderstorm.
This dream, this dream had sent sparked through him, made his heart race with anticipation. A need, a burning need that wouldn't be silenced until whoever the mysterious and wild looking woman was wrapped up in his embrace. He needed to find her, needed to match the scent of her to someone. She had to be out there somewhere, waiting for him, calling to him. Nature was different, Bill had learned, than the laws of the wizarding world. Nature claimed things, legal or not. The nature of the wolf, the need to run naked along the beach the days prior to the change, the need to howl, the need to scream, the need to reproduce and find someone who fit with you. The need for blood. That was another thing entirely. Bill had again, always had dreams that involved blood. Killing was what his wolf seemed to love, more so that Remus, who was sedated and submissive. Far too submissive for Bill's tolerance. Most of the time when they were around each other he'd found an unrelenting urge to beat Remus to a pulp. Even when he showed affection to his wife, it made Bill furious. Bill was an alpha. Bill withheld the rights to any female. Or so his wolf though.
He'd been without a woman for far too long, just the sight of Hermione the prior day had set him into a fit of frustration not even an hour in the shower relieved. Frustration that he couldn't stomach, couldn't believe. She had always been off limits. Too young, too close to his brother. Too far away. Always too far away. When Fleur had come into his life attraction to anyone had been reduced, the thought of other women was repulsing, for he was so in love with Fleur that his heart sang when she was in the same room as him. His beloved mother and sister's scorn towards her meant nothing. He was going to wed her. Even after the Fenrir attack on Hogwarts, she'd stayed by him. She'd been faithful, loyal, and loving. Fleur had been there. However his love and attraction faded quickly with his first shift, the need to turn his nose up in distaste ever present. It had mostly been her smell, it had gone from sweet to ungodly in such a short amount of time. Hermione, however, had smelled delectable.
Maybe it was due to the fact the rain had washed away all traces of scented soaps and lotions, leaving her smelling earthy. She'd smelled of parchment and wood, as if she'd been near a fire. Oak, if he were to give a specific type. Like the morning dew and mists of a forest freshly drenched the night before. It had been oh so appetizing. It had stirred the inner wolf, waking it in a way it hadn't ever been. Like it was howling in his head, running in his veins. Like it's eyes had opened up with a snap, demanding Bill do make a drastic decision. Which he had not. She was engaged to be married to his brother, or she had been. By the looks of things the prior day his brother and her relationship may have been a non existent thing. Good.
Bill wouldn't admit to it, but as he rose up out of bed, heading towards the shower. He needed a cold one, freeze away the heat that had filled him at the thought of his brother's ex fiance. That was taboo territory, and regardless of how much that wolf of his yearned to be around the girl he wasn't going to do that. Not to her, not after she'd just suffered whatever it was that she'd suffered. Yes, a cold shower would do him some good, then he could casually go and make sure that Hermione was okay, and maybe offer her a place to stay after the trip to the burrow. After all, Harry and Luna occupied a place at the burrow until there was a place suitable enough for Harry's standards, Ginny and Blaise had also taken up staying for a while, and Percy and his broad also taken roost as well as Charlie. Hermione would need a nice quiet place to recover, and shell cottage was nice and quiet. Yes, Bill would just have to invite her to stay.
Humiliation, Hermione found, was a dish karma seemed to like to serve hot. Not only had she been dumped the previous day in a rather horrid manner, she'd been discovered in a mess by her thick ex's brother. His older attractive brother. She must have done something truly terrible to deserve what she was getting dished out, what she just didn't know. Maybe it was payback for that year at quidditch tryouts when she may have pushed the odds in Ron's favor just slightly. A regrettable action now, for the woman who had stole him away then had made a horrible comeback. Yes, this was indeed her being punished for that small act of kindness. If you could call it that.
But his brother? Of all the people to have found her it couldn't have been Sirius, or Remus, or for Christ sakes Harry! Anyone but a relative to that sodding git would have been preferred. She would have taken Draco Malfoy any day over the man who had came swooping to her rescue. Of course she would have suffered stabs and jabs for being in such a horrid state, but at least he wouldn't have gone to mummy the next day and told. Gods, what if he had gone to Molly already? Her situation the prior day had been so pathetic, standing out in the pouring rain shivering like a tossed out kitten. Oh Merlin if he'd told Molly going to the burrow now would be simply undoable.
The burrow may as well have been her version of hell now that things between Ronald were over. She could just hear Molly, shouting, whining, flying, and crying about the house. What would she say? Would she be viewed as a scarlet woman? Hermione's thoughts ran back towards the scandal between her and Harry, who Viktor had been brought into. That had been a painful time for Hermione, cast out by the woman who she'd seen as a secondary mother. There was no way in any universe she would allow that to happen again. The last time had taken Molly months to accept the fact that she wasn't really doing those things. Thank you, Rita Skeeter. The thought of Rita brought a new fear to Hermione's stomach. What if Rita had seen her with Bill? What would Molly think? Oh Merlin, if anything got out about Bill having to drag her to her room she'd never be able to show her face at the Weasley's again.
As if on cue, a snowy white owl perched upon the windowsill of her rented room, clad with a note and looking rather irritable at the fact it had to be out in what was the aftermath of a terrible storm. Hermione stared for a moment, dreading the awful letter which she knew would be within the envelope the bird held.
Tap Tap Tap!
Hedwigs feather's looked rather rustled as she began to fervently beat upon the window. How dare Hermione make her wait that long in the cold? Harry's owl, contrary to what everyone seemed to believe was not a kind bird. If anything she was as big a diva as Madam Maxime from Beuxbatons, maybe even worse depending on her mood. While she was always a loyal and doting pet for Harry, she had a knack for biting those who rubbed her particularly wrong.
Oh how Hermione wished the owl would just chuck it up for loss and leave, fly away and return the letter to Harry so she could avoid the situation all together. To hell with Gryffindor courage, she could address her problems later. In say, five years maybe? That should be plenty of time to clear the dust and let Molly forget all about her and Ron's failed relationship. After all, she would be the hardest to deal with, what with her incessant and unending hammering for grandchildren and Hermione to quit her job at the ministry. Not that it would be too much of a loss, her job hadn't gone anywhere, too many people of power enjoyed having slaves. Sickening as it was.
BANG BANG BANG!
Hedwig had now began to whack her head against the window, bobbing backwards each time as she'd dizzy herself doing it. Persistence was usually a virtue, however in this case Hermione wasn't sure if it benefitted the one who claimed it. After all, Hedwig was a vision of intelligence amongst owl kind, this image wasn't very becoming of her. Hermione had to hand it to Harry, there was nary an owl near or far that would go through this much trouble to deliver a simple letter, no matter how faithful they were. With a sigh, she opened the window with a soft click, allowing the bird to bounce within the rented room and proceed to chew her a new one in owl talk.
Hoo, hoo hoo, hoo hoo hoo. If owls could sound condescending, Hedwig was doing a very good job of it. Not many birds could remind Hermione so much of her mother just by looking at her and hooting at her in different tones to signify their distaste. Most of them would have just bitten her. She supposed Hedwig was far too classy for that, she would much prefer to scold you in her own manner and let you know you were simply a horrid person. Hoo! Hoo-oo hoo!
"Yes Hedwig, I understand." Hermione spoke, smile spreading across her face as she humored the old hen. Hedwig had lived through war, standing firm and protecting harry and somehow dodging a damned killing curse. Hedwig was much too precious to ignore, even when she was cussing up a storm in owl and telling you how terrible you were. As Hedwig lifted a taloned foot gracefully, flexing her black claws as she balanced to present the dreaded letter, Hermione wondered if it would be rude to decline. Probably, after all the owl had come all this way from the care of a very pregnant Luna, it would probably cause the poor bird to claw her eyes out.
"Well, not getting any younger I suppose." this was it.