Chapter 7

When Hermione appeared in the Grimmauld Place fire, she immediately went to Remus' room. She couldn't explain the feeling she had, but she was worried that something was wrong. What if Tonks had unleashed her anger on him? What if he were hurt...?

Not pausing to think about the absolutely sickening feeling in her gut when she thought about this, Hermione knocked none too gently on his door. There was no immediate response, so she opened it. He wasn't there. She checked the bathroom, calling his name, and jaunted up to the third floor, but it appeared to be empty.

Back on the main floor, Hermione checked every room in Grimmauld Place. He wasn't in the house, nor was he in the backyard. But she had the inexplicable sensation that he was here.

Working herself into a frustrated frenzy, Hermione sat at the dining room table, pulling viciously on her brunette strands.

And it hit her like a tidal wave, so suddenly that she actually swayed backward in her chair. Last night was a full moon! There was a cell in the basement of Grimmauld Place, with thick metal bars and a heavy lock. Remus didn't trust himself, even on Wolfsbane.

Hermione bolted toward the cellar door, wondering why he would still be down there. He usually came up at sunrise and crawled into bed, from what she remembered seeing over the years. But who would have released him? she demanded of herself. Tonks was probably the one who unlocked the cage for Remus. And Tonks had said they'd broken up...

Manoeuvring the steps so quickly it was a miracle she didn't tumble, Hermione came upon the door beyond which she somehow knew beyond a doubt was Remus. She pulled the heavy wooden door open and stepped inside. The cage took up the far half of the room, and she stepped toward it, into the pitch blackness. She immediately heard groaning and a slight rustling.

Looking for a lamp but finding none, Hermione whispered, "Remus? Are you here?" It unnerved her to be in the room in the dark, but she was not afraid of Remus in the least. She'd seen him at his worst, without Wolfsbane, and she wasn't scared.

The rustling stopped, and Hermione held her breath. "Hermione?" he whispered. She let out a gasp of relief and ran to where she knew the bars began. She clutched them in her hand, somehow wanting nothing more than to see Remus and ascertain his health.

"Remus, where's the key? I can't see anything. I need to get you out of there!" She tried to disguise the panic in her voice, but it was clear to her and therefore must have been to him.

"There's no key. Tonks wasn't here to lock me in, and I couldn't do it by myself." Hermione knew the lock was inside a solid steel box which couldn't be reached by the prisoner, but if it wasn't locked...?

Hermione froze, suddenly more afraid for Remus than ever. "Then... why are you still in there?"

There was a long pause, and Hermione tried to imagine what he was thinking. "There didn't seem to be a reason to get out." His voice was so desolate that Hermione felt her heart breaking.

She tried to inject positivity into her voice, but his melancholy was practically palpable. "Well, I'm here now, so let's get you upstairs." She caressed the cold bars with her fingertips, wishing it were him instead. Just to make sure he was okay, of course.

"You should just leave. You can't... you can't help me."

Hermione felt her panic rising in her chest, constricting it and turning her voice into a harsh whisper. "Of course I can help you! I've helped you recover from the full moon before! Please, Remus..."

There was a long pause in which Hermione bit her lip to keep from begging him to do as she asked. Suddenly the overhead lamp flickered on, and Hermione was forced to wonder how she hadn't smelled the blood before this moment, because the stench seemed to be overwhelming now that she saw it.

Remus was standing at the back of the cage, one hand holding his wand, the other pressed tightly to a wound on his abdomen. He was covered in dirt and blood, and in the low light, she could hardly differentiate between the two. More than the blood, more than the wounds, Hermione was affected by his eyes. They were truly haunted. He looked half-dead and as if he wished it wasn't only half.

Hermione's cry slipped forth from her lips before she could restrain it. Remus sat heavily on the wooden bench in the cell, the only piece of furniture available. Before she could stop herself, Hermione yanked on the door, and though it protested, it opened under her persuasion. What stopped her was Remus' cringe. He shrank back into the corner of the cell, and Hermione was sure she'd never seem him look so very... afraid. Not of her though... of himself? She didn't like it at all.

She raised her hands in front of her in what she hoped looked like a show of submission and took a step closer. When she did, she was stopped again, this time by what sounded like a growl. Hermione gasped and Remus turned his head away immediately, looking ashamed. But the noise sounded again when she moved, and Hermione tried desperately to recall everything she'd learned about werewolves over the years. It was a lot, but nothing pertained to this situation. Hermione knew she had to help Remus; he'd lost a lot of blood and looked sickly, pale and weak. She couldn't just leave him, that much was certain.

When thinking of werewolves brought no ideas, Hermione thought of wolves. Wolves do not like being approached when in a weakened condition. He was only trying to protect himself. He was in an animalistic state due to the closeness of the full moon and his injuries. She would have to approach him as a pack mate would... show him that she was not a threat and meant only to help him.

Swallowing her not insignificant fear, mostly due to Remus' rapidly failing health, but somewhat attributed to what she was about to do, Hermione slowly knelt on the unforgiving stone floor.

Once on her knees, Hermione fell forward on her hands. Keeping her head down and not making eye contact, Hermione slowly crawled forward. Remus did not make a sound but she could feel his eyes on her. When she was in front of his knees but not touching him, Hermione looked up to his chest, avoiding his eyes. She slowly tilted her head to one side, letting her hair fall behind her shoulder and baring the long expanse of her neck. She closed her eyes and held the submissive position.

For a long moment nothing happened, and Hermione felt a little embarrassed. Then she heard a rumbling noise from Remus, which she somehow knew was approval. Gaining confidence that she was doing the right thing, Hermione leaned forward. Remus' hands were white-knuckled on the bench beside his knees, gripping it with all of his admittedly meagre strength. Keeping her necked exposed, Hermione saw a comparatively small scratch on the back of one of Remus' hands. It wasn't bleeding now, but obviously had been during the night. Closing her eyes against the very human side of her telling her to run away, Hermione placed a small, timid lick on the wound. She knew werewolf blood was only infectious while he was in wolf form, so she wasn't worried... about that, anyway.

The taste of gritty blood invaded her mouth, but she ignored it. She paused a moment, hovering over his hand, waiting for either sanction or censure. When she received neither, Hermione repeated her action, this time using the flat of her tongue instead of the hesitant tip. Remus made another approving grumble, and Hermione nearly keeled over in relief.

She continued to lave the cut, ignoring the bitter taste and focusing on helping her friend. She picked up his hand in hers to get at it better. When it appeared to be clean to her human senses, Hermione finally looked up at Remus.

His face was a mixture of visceral pleasure and human sorrow. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to stop her, but couldn't.

"Remus," she whispered, appealing to the human side she knew was right there beyond the surface. "Let me take you upstairs so I can clean you properly."

Hermione was afraid she'd done something very wrong, because his face immediately shifted into displeasure. She broke eye contact and stretched her neck further to the side, lowering herself right to the floor. She took his hand and rubbed her cheek against it gently, moulding his fingers to her face and leaning into his touch. In her peripheral vision, Hermione saw him nod once, and then he got to his feet.

He was unsteady and swaying slightly, and Hermione immediately rose, supporting him. He accepted her help without contest, and she slowly walked him up the stairs. She was having a hard time accepting that she had just prostrated herself in front of her former professor... that she had licked the wound of her friend, like an animal.

But beyond her initial disgust, she had gained a very real comfort from cleaning him, healing him. Trying not to think about it beyond the fact that it had worked, Hermione let Remus lean heavily on her, and together they made it to his bedroom on the second floor.

Once he sank back into the large bed, he looked at her with such a heavy apology in his eyes it nearly took her breath away. He closed his eyes and, after a moment, seemed to have fallen fast asleep. Hermione watched him for a few minutes before launching into action. Boiling water and sterilising cloth, she cleaned his wounds as efficiently as she could the Muggle way before performing healing spells to the best of her ability. She had never seen him so injured, not in all the years she'd helped him in recovery.

There was only one reason he would be so completely demolished like this. He must not have taken the Wolfsbane. Hermione didn't know what that meant, but she suspected he was so distraught over Tonks' leaving that he either hadn't been able to physically get it, or he'd forgotten. She did not consider the option that perhaps he simply no longer cared, or that he had hoped the horrible transformation would kill him.

Exhausted from a long day of facing people she'd hoped not to see and then having to become a wolf in order to get Remus to listen to her, Hermione lay at the foot of the bed and curled up into a small ball. She was careful not to touch Remus; she only wanted to rest a moment anyway. Sniffing away the tears that finally threatened, Hermione blanked her mind against the onslaught of horrifying images of Remus in wolf-form, tearing at his flesh and throwing himself against the bars of his cell. She took comfort in his deep breathing and before long, her own matched it breath for breath.

*

Remus awoke to the uncomfortable sensation that he had done something very wrong. The sensation flooded him, yet he could recall no earthly reason for such an emotion. He cautiously opened his eyes, immediately noting that it was one day past the full moon and that it was night time. Beyond that, he knew nothing other than a rather incongruous weight on his feet.

When Remus cast his eyes down to ascertain the origin of the weight, the events of the previous night flooded him, and he had to close his eyes against the barrage.

Pain. Fear. He was growling. She was pleading with him. He liked hearing her plead. The human half of him shrank from her approach while the wolf dared her to come closer. She was on her knees. The wolf was roaring with approval. She crawled to him... she cleaned him. She licked him, licked the blood and dirt from his wound like a good little mate. He decided she met his approval, so he allowed her to move him and tend to him. The wolf went back into that deep place inside him, and Remus fell fast asleep.

More than anything, Remus hated being an animal. All his life he had been judged by the public for something he did not want and could not change. But worse than the public's fear and disgust was his own. He loathed himself at times. It couldn't be healthy to reject such a large part of oneself, and Remus had often wondered why other werewolves weren't as sickly or frail as he was becoming. But he didn't want to live like an animal, so he tolerated the illness for the facade of humanity.

And now he had to live with the memory of Hermione's hot tongue on his flesh and how very right it had felt. He hadn't felt out of control...it was Remus right there at the forefront, not the wolf, but the wolf was making its presence known quite vociferously, and Remus found he was not as afraid of it as he usually was.

Needing to move but finding himself trapped by Hermione at his feet, Remus gingerly stretched and sat up. Her scent immediately surrounded him, and Remus couldn't contain the low growl that started in his chest. She smelled so sweet, so perfect. And when he looked upon her, he could no longer deny what he had suspected but suppressed from the very first moment he'd met her, the first time he'd been assailed with her scent, even though she'd been just a child.

This girl was his mate.