The day after the full moon passed without question or explanation. Instead, Hermione had kept Fenrir confined to their tent, wanting to explore this new aspect of their relationship. They had moved from enemies to friends to lovers and while it was new, it was easy for her to remain wrapped up in Fenrir's arms, exploring each other's bodies.

However, after one day had passed, Fenrir seemed eager to nail down just what they were to one another. He'd stared at her across the small picnic table, eating a ravenous portion of venison jerky seeing as they'd been a bit too busy to eat the day before. "I should move soon," he said, his blue eyes dropping to his hands, not wanting to meet her eyes. "I've been in this spot for too long."

It was odd to see someone like Fenrir so completely vulnerable. She knew that he didn't want her to leave — his whispered insistence was enough for her to recognize that — but she knew that he would let her leave as well. He wouldn't keep her there against her will, knowing that she was still conflicted by the thought of completely leaving wizarding society.

Her eyebrows furrowed together. "Where will you go this month, Fenrir?" she asked, biting her lower lip. "How long will it be until you find someplace more...permanent?"

He looked up at her with a grin, perhaps sensing that she was wavering. "I'll go East. It's not far away from people, but it would allow me to get some supplies," he explained. His eyes trailed over her body. "If I knew I had someone to come home to every night, it might convince me to make things a bit more permanent. It would be good to have a pack again."

She reached across the table, reaching out for his hand, giving it a squeeze. "I don't want to leave either, Fenrir. I'm not ready to go back yet," she explained, knowing that they would need to have more concrete explanations over time. "And it would be nice to have a pack, so long as...I don't want to hurt anyone, Fenrir," she said, determined that if she did stay, she wouldn't purposefully be hurting anyone. Even if she couldn't rejoin wizarding society because they thought she was too dangerous, she could prove to everyone that they assumed incorrectly.

"I can't make any promises that I won't change anyone, Hermione," he said solemnly. "But I can promise that I will try. If you stay with me, and we stay in one place, other lone werewolves will seek us out. We can start with them."

She nodded, fighting a smile. She hoped that over time and more heated discussions, the pair of them could come to common grounds on how werewolves and wizards could cohabitate. Now that she had a better understanding of what being a werewolf was, though, she could acknowledge that she wouldn't accept less than a certain level of respect, one that did not include wolfsbane. "We should really start packing up," she whispered, standing up.

However, packing up to move was the absolute last thing on her mind. Instead, she moved around the table, coming to stand in front of Fenrir. Taking his large hand in her own, she led him over to the bottom bunk, only too eager to fall back amongst his furs and pillows. She wanted to sit astride him and take him inside of her, while his hands encouraged her hips to rock back and forth. Pulling him down with her, she was grateful that his aversion to clothing meant that he hadn't donned a shirt that morning.

Their kiss was passionate and all consuming, so much so that Hermione couldn't focus on anything else other than the feel of his hands and mouth. She was so distracted that she didn't notice the intruder making their way into their camp. Fenrir also heard the noises too late, leaping off of her only once the tent flap was pulled back. He assumed a defensive position, trying to shield her with his massive body.

"Hermione!" Remus snarled, announcing himself to the room. "What the fuck are you doing?" he questioned, paying little attention to the aggression roiling off Fenrir in waves. Trying to push past the other male werewolf, Remus was shocked when he got a good look at Hermione.

She stood from the cot, not liking to be in such a vulnerable position. She stood behind Fenrir, trying to redo the button to her jeans, not wanting to flash her former Professor. "It's none of your concern, Remus," she said sternly.

"Oh, so you're fucking him?" Remus questioned, again trying to push past Fenrir to get to her. "You lied to me. You said you were going to Australia, but instead you slinked off to the woods to rut with this beast. Hermione, I understand we all get lonely sometimes, but surely there is someone else more suitable."

Fenrir snarled, his voice more lupine than human. Grabbing Remus by the shoulder, he turned the smaller man to face him. "Did you hear her? She said it's none of your concern." Normally, Hermione would have been very put out by the territorial way that Fenrir was treating her, but having spent so much time embracing her inner werewolf, she now understood that it was something that he couldn't just turn off.

Remus was far too angry to pay any mind to Fenrir's warnings, instead still looking over his broad shoulders to get a look at Hermione. "Are you even going to try and explain yourself? You promised that you wouldn't seek him out."

"I did no such thing," Hermione insisted, finally moving past Fenrir, despite seeing how much it irritated her lover. She needed to work this out with Remus. It wasn't something that she could have hanging over her mind for the rest of her life. "You insisted that I not seek him out, but I never in a million years thought he would help me more in one transformation than you would have taught me in a lifetime. The wolfsbane is poison, Remus," she tried to explain, pressing a hand to his arm.

Her former flatmate violently pulled away from her. "What has happened to you, Hermione? The wolfsbane isn't poison. It would help you keep your mind. It will help you cope with the curse," Remus argued, vitriol dripping off his tongue.

That had Hermione pulling back. "It's not a curse, Remus. I didn't understand it at first, but I've embraced the werewolf inside me. I've become the werewolf, and honestly, I like it," she said proudly. She was not going to become the beaten-down, shabby, shadow of the person they were before they were bitten, the way that Remus had retreated into himself. She was not the same, no, but she wasn't any worse off. She could realize that now.

Fenrir was only too happy to hear her defense of him and the way he'd chosen to live. Coming up behind her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, grinding his hard length into her backside, apparently undeterred by their company. She blushed, not willing to go that far in front of Remus. Still, she willed herself calm, looking at the intruder expectantly.

"How can you let him put his filthy paws all over you?" Remus questioned sharply, his nostrils flaring. His fists balled up at his sides. Despite wanting to take the refined and civilized approach, his behavior was the most savage that she'd experienced so far. "He's bloody dangerous! Don't you know what he does? How he attacks people? Savages them?"

Unable to hear Remus talk about Fenrir as if he was above reproach any longer, Hermione threw Fenrir's arm off of her stepping forward. "How hypocritical can you be, Remus?" she cried out, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "How can you tell me that he is dangerous and savages people, when it was you that bit me? You were supposed to be docile and...and I trusted you to have control over yourself. You made me this way, and you don't get to tell me how to live my life now." She beat her hands against his chest, her body shaking from the effort.

The morning after Remus had bit her, he had been so horrified and apologetic. Hermione had tried to pretend like it wasn't a problem, that it wasn't his fault, but if she was honest with herself, she didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive him. Not when he used the tragedy to form a codependent relationship with her, needing her to lean on him so that he would have someone in his life.

Fenrir wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest while she sobbed. She'd been holding all of it in for so long now, she didn't realize how cathartic it would feel to finally get it all out in the open. She could hear the low rumble of Fenrir's voice telling Remus to get out before he did something they would all regret.

And to her surprise, Remus left her there.

When they were alone again, Fenrir guided her towards the bed, laying her down and holding her to his chest. His fingers worked through her hair, soothing her. "How did it happen?" he asked finally, obviously surprised that it was Remus Lupin who'd made her the way she was all along.

Hermione looked up at him, biting her lower lip. There was no point in hiding the truth from him any longer. "I was looking after him at Grimmauld Place. He was so upset after losing Tonks and Teddy that he wasn't taking care of himself, but he swore that he was taking his potion correctly," Hermione explained, wiping the tears from her face. "I must have gone down to the basement before he'd transformed back because as soon as I walked in the door, he was pinning me down and biting me."

He didn't say anything, just listened to her story, about how her friends had pulled away over time, and how she'd been forced to rely on Remus more and more. He listened to her tease out the idea that maybe Remus had liked having someone so dependent on him, and that he was just afraid of being alone again now that she'd decided to stay with him.

"So you'll stay with me then?" he asked, sounding surprised. "For true?"

She smiled, propping herself up on one elbow. "I already told you I wasn't ready to go back yet," she explained. "I don't think I'll ever be ready," she said, surprised by the lack of loss or sadness she felt at the idea of not seeing her friends again. In the end, she knew that people who shared Remus's views were too prevalent. It would be impossible for them to accept her as a proud werewolf and a witch. She couldn't have both worlds if she wanted to live a humane life.

Fenrir pulled her down for a possessive kiss, before smiling at her. "Well, I am happy to keep you for as long as you'll stay," he told her, truthfully.

Twenty-Four Moons Later

Hermione walked through the growing campsite, eager to find Fenrir. She was so focused on getting to their cottage that she didn't notice the tiny boy who ran into her. Putting out her hands, she pressed them into his shoulders, slowing him down. "Careful, Johnny," she scolded, but a smile on her face let him know that she wasn't too upset.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said with his grin from ear to ear, showing off his half-grown in front tooth. She just nodded, pressing a hand to her rounded belly, before continuing on her way.

Their little village was almost unrecognizable from when she and Fenrir had first selected this location, setting up the charmed tent near a bend in the stream. It had taken Hermione a few months, but she eventually concluded that they could charm a small house to fulfill the same purposes that the tent did. Fenrir had worked hard to construct a tiny cottage with nearly the same footprint as the tent and Hermione worked on the elaborate charms work, but in the end, the result was quite impressive. They'd done away with the bunk beds at that time; instead they shared one bed every night since the confrontation with Remus.

Fenrir had been right that werewolves would come looking for them once rumors got out that there were other werewolves living in the woods. Apparently, there was an innate need to be a part of a pack, perhaps a product of evolution, knowing that there was safety in numbers. After six months, their pack had tripled in size, and nearly two years later there were approximately twenty-five werewolves living with them. A small number of them were children, but she could at least take some comfort to see them after their transformations, finding some relief for the first time in their lives after being guided properly.

Everyone had a duty or a job in their little village, and Hermione often found herself teaching the four children that had joined them basic schooling, hoping that someday they might have the opportunity for formal schooling, but determined to teach them as well as she could in the meantime. Fenrir spent most of his time finding food and protecting the pack from outside threats, but he also did a lot of peacekeeping.

Walking into their shared cottage, she bit her lower lip, seeing that Fenrir had just returned from a bath at the river, and was still half-naked, but working on getting dressed again. It was getting colder and the nights were growing longer. "No need to get dressed, alpha," she teased, knowing the effect that word had on him. In the beginning, she'd totally refused to call him by his so-called proper title, but now she would give him that respect in public. "I can keep you warm through the night," she pressed a kiss to his bare back, wrapping her arms around his middle.

Fenrir groaned, turning around so that he could face her. His palm caressed her belly, while he caught her in a dominant kiss, leaving her panting by the end of it. "How are my two favorite people today?" he asked, teasingly.

Hermione grinned. Although they'd never had a formal discussion about what their relationship was exactly, she had no doubts about its permanence. It was as if their hearts bled into one another's, after he'd shown her the beauty of her curse. They'd also never discussed the possibility of children, but she supposed it was inevitable with how insatiable they were for one another. "We are fine. A bit antsy for the full moon, but we will get through it like usual."

"You are as round and full as the moon now, Hermione," he said with a smirk. "It won't be long now before the pup is born."

Despite herself, she felt herself laughing at him. "That is not nearly as poetic as you think, Fenrir. Not exactly a compliment. But I am excited to finally hold the pup in my arms," she admitted, feeling anxious and excited all at the same time.

"Come, let me hold you in my arms for the time being. We should rest before moonrise," he commanded, pulling her back into their bedroom, before laying down next to her.

With her head on his chest, she could feel Fenrir's heart beat in time with hers, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath. It was strange, she'd been a werewolf for less than a quarter of her life, but she couldn't imagine it any other way. It was second nature for her now that she'd embraced the wolf inside her and the wolf beside her.