Scars of a Crimson Moon

Spoiler alert for all books! just incase...

Rated M for violence

This story is cannon up till HBP and will still share similar qualities after, though it is the summer before the trio's 6th year that this little fic deviates from it original path. Don't worry, you'll get the full picture of what happened as the story progresses.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all associated aspects of this story belong to JK Rowling and I make no profit from this fanfiction, merely enjoy the act of writing it.

~ Chapter 1 - Broken Pieces ~

Piercing amber eyes seemed to glow out from the shadows before her. Her breath left her as she felt her lungs constricted with panic. She felt the growl emanating from the creature deep within her chest. She couldn't move.

In a blink of the eye, the mountain of fur and muscle was on her, pinning her down.

Pain.

Blood and pain.

Claws sliced through her skin with pitiful ease. Her body was being tossed around like a rag doll. Blood, so much blood yet all she could focus on was the moon. It was so bright and luminescent in the dark night sky, so peaceful. Oh how she loathed that beautiful, peaceful, uncaring orb. Claws raised above her face and came crashing down...

Hermione bolted up in bed, startled awake by the gruesome nightmare. Her thick curls clung to her damp skin and her breath came in short pants. 'Just a dream.' She thought to herself to calm down. She rubbed one hand over her face to clear her mind, but when her fingers met the groves of marred flesh she couldn't help the tears that leaked from her eyes in that moment.

Realizing that she was crying yet again, she rubbed her eyes fervently with the long sleeve of her hoodie. Hermione took deep steadying breaths and willed the rebellious tears to recede. It would have all been so much easier if she could only block out the overwhelming world around her. The scratch of the mice in the walls made her ears twitch, the strong smell of Molly's cooking that stung her nose, and of course the ever present sound of voices in the cluttered house. So many distractions to keep her from stilling her mind.

Before she even realized what she was doing, a growl of frustration tore through her throat. Hermione covered her mouth in horror and the tears once again escaped without her consent. The tears were now the farthest thing from her mind as held her own breath, listening for those distracting sounds in hope that her slip hadn't been as loud as she feared it was. Unfortunately, the minute the animalistic sound had escaped her the rest of the house all stopped with baited breaths. Even the mice seemed to stop their scurrying to wait out the apparent danger of a predator.

The curly haired teen grabbed her pillow and bit down on it harshly as soft whimpers escaped her. The rivulets of tears flowed with abandon, soaking the white material as she fought against the tingle in the back of her throat. She knew this feeling. She had allowed this particular emotion out before too... Sorrow. The feeling tickled the back of her throat, begging it to open wide and howl out her distress, but she refused to let out more of the wolf than had already slipped.

The activity below resumed slowly at first, but it wasn't long before the conversations and commotion began again, even if it was more subdued than before. The tears and tickle of her throat subsided and she found herself, once again, rubbing her tears into the abused grey cotton covering her arm. Hermione drug herself out of bed and stumbled to the door of her room. She wanted to splash some cool water over her face before she attempted any kind of outing to interact with the others.

The ill witch cracked her door open and peaked out to make sure no one was on the top floor with her. It was all clear, but she really shouldn't have expected any different. Other than meal times, they left her to her own musings for the most part. "To recover in peace" they had told her. She scoffed at that. They were afraid of her. They were afraid and it wasn't fair. Professor Lupin was a werewolf and everyone saw him for the kind and gentle man he was. Why should they fear her as the beast?

She knew the answer though. She had been bitten not so long ago and she was still melding with 'the wolf.' He had told her it would get easier to control after her first full moon, that in time she could suppress it entirely. While in her human form that is. The words were little comfort to her. She needed the control now. She couldn't take the looks they gave her. She just wanted it all over. Strike that, she just wish it had never happened.

A thought entered her mind as she slipped into the bathroom at the end of the small hall. 'Maybe if I act like nothing happened, like everything is ok, then it could be.' She thought with desperation as she turned the water on. 'I'll just go down their and ask for some of the stew thats brewing. She is overcooking it anyway.' Hermione thought and then she realized exactly what she had thought. She paused with her cupped hands raised halfway to her face, the cool water slipping through her fingers. She should not be able to tell that the meat was not as rare as she would have liked it just by the smell. She should not want their to be a stronger tang of iron in that scent. It was all just so wrong that the thought of the sweet metallic smell made her mouth water and that she was angry at the Weasley matron for ruining it.

Her wet hands gripped the sides of the porcelain sink and she concentrated on the cold, smooth feel of it beneath her fingers. She needed the distraction from her thoughts. She needed to think about something normal, something trivial. She needed to think about anything other than her affliction. The problem is that the harder you try not to think about something the more you think about it. Unconsciously she began to raise her eyes to the mirror before her, but just as she caught a glimpse of angry red scars near the edge of her chin she quickly averted her eyes.

Hermione filled her hands once again and splashed her face with a sense of urgency. 'I don't want to see. I don't want to know.' She quickly raked her hair over her face and pulled the grey hood as far forward as it would go. The zipper nearly snapped off as she violently zipped the front of her worn hoodie-jacket over the faded maroon T-shirt beneath. She left the bathroom in a hurry and carefully kept her eyes glued to the floor.

Her hurried steps halted at the edge of the stairs. 'I can do this.' She prepped herself and began to take a step down. That's when she heard it. The hushed conversation going on in the kitchen. She slowly sat herself down on the top step and hugged the banister. The absent thought of it being strange that she could pick out the softly spoken words from all the other noise floated threw her mind, but was quickly forgotten as she focused on what the voices were saying and who they belonged to.

At first she felt as if she might cry again, 'why did they have to tell him right when he got here?,' but it again turned to anger. Her teeth gnashed together and her jaw muscles were tense with strain. 'Why couldn't they have let me see him before he was told. Let me look at his face without the look of knowing?' It was bad enough that Ron looked at her with that look and even worse that his was one mixed with fear. He always was a git when it came to things outside of his comfort zone.

At this very minute him and his mother were informing the third member of her small pack, er, trio... yes their trio. 'Don't they know that I can hear them every time they talk about me?' She thought morosely, but her anger only rose. Hermione stood and quietly made her way down stairs. If they didn't know she could hear them from far away then she would make them think twice about whether she was hold up in her room or just around the corner. Make them think twice about speaking of her and her condition.

Harry had arrived at the Burrow with relief. He thought that he would be received with warmth and welcome as usual, so when he had been immediately pulled into the kitchen by Ron and his mother he had been obviously confused. When they began explaining to him exactly what the hush hush was all about he felt his stomach drop before it quickly rose up again, threatening to spill its contents at the feet of the two redheads in front of him.

It couldn't be possible. They had been through so much together and had come out just fine, stronger even. But this... this was so beyond anything he could have imagined walking into that it threw his mind for a loop. He was in a daze and barely comprehended anything beyond the words 'Hermione has been infected by a werewolf bite.' They were explaining that she was different or in Ron's words, scary, but he was to shocked to concentrate on the details. He slowly sank down in the nearby wooden chair trying to wrap his mind around it.

A noise by the doorway caught his attention and it took him a moment to realize who it was that stood there in his daze. The figure had messy brown hair hanging in her face and a grey hood shadowing it to further obstruct his view. She was facing him directly and for a moment they just stared at one another. Suddenly it clicked and his eyes widened in surprise. "Hermione?" He called out hesitantly as he slowly stood from his seat. 'I barely recognized her.'

"Hermione!" The two present purebloods called out in surprise and, much to Harry's surprise, fear.

As Harry turned a look of disbelief on them he saw Hermione rush away from the doorframe. Forgetting the others he called out to her pleadingly. "Hermione wait!" He yelled as he rushed after her. He rounded the corner in time to see the front door slam shut.

It was then that his other best friend pulled him back into the kitchen. "Harry wait! Don't go after her." He begged.

"What?" He asked in confusion. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"Harry Potter! Watch your mouth." Scolded Molly, but her voice softened with the next thing she said. "Harry dear, Ron's right. Hermione, well, Hermione's not been herself since..."

"She's not been right in the head mate." Ron said as his mother's voice trailed off.

Harry's eyes lowered into a dangerous glare. "How dare you talk about her that way." He said darkly. "She's our friend. How could you say that?"

"Well, it's true!" Ron defended.

"What Ron means," interjected Mrs. Weasley kindly, "is that the disease is making her act strangely and if she's upset we've all just found it easier to let her settle down on her own dear. It's really for the best." It was then that the Ginny and Mr. Weasley popped their heads in the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about.

Hermione had seen it. Seen his eyes widen in fear of her. He knew and she saw it. He was afraid of her. They all were. She had even heard it in the Weasley's voices, so she fled. She didn't know where she was going, but didn't care. She just ran, ran away from the house as fast as she could. She needed to put distance between her and those looks.

Hermione ran until she came to the edge of the nearby forest. Was it just a coincidence or had it willed her to come her. The thick smell of leaves, dirt, and wildlife filled her nose as she inhaled deeply. It invoked a feeling of longing and she closed her eyes entranced by it. Her eyes snapped open and she realized she had been walking through the brush and nearly into the tall trees that loomed just before her. She took a shuddering breath and quickly sat down right where she was, hugging her knees tightly.

She sat their for a while, just focusing on the sounds and smells of the forest. Trying to pick out each individual sent and analyze it to occupy her mind. So it was no surprise that she knew he was coming long before he saw her. His steps were clumsy and loud through the weeds and the heavy sound of his breathing told her that he had been running. For the first time since... For the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled. It was small, but it was there. Harry had come for her. Maybe she wouldn't be as alone as she thought.

She heard him breath out a sigh of relief from directly behind her. 'He's relieved that he found me.' She felt a small spark of warmth in her chest, but it was overwhelmed in a moment by panic. She self-consciously raked her hair into a dense curtain over her face and, in her haste, ruffly tugged the hood of her grey hoodie down farther than it was meant to sit. The back edge of it raised above the line of her jeans pulling her shirt with it.

She stopped breathing completely as she heard his sharp intake of breath. He had seen. Neither dared move for a brief moment, but the raven haired boy finally broke their stalemate. He walked to stand directly beside her and gazed off into the woods. Finally Hermione eased her death grip on her hood and the back of her jacket and shirt slid back to cover the proof of her attack.

He just stood their in silent companionship with her as she regained the ability to breath. She dare not speak, afraid of what might spill out if she did. Hermione was just thankful that he had not abandoned her to her loneliness like the rest of them had. Even the one that could help her the most seemed to be avoiding her. Her old DADA professor had only been to see her twice since it happened. Once to see that she was still alive and once to briefly explain a couple things to her. That was all.

It was just as she felt the beginning bite of anger gnawing at her that Harry sat down next to her. Close to her. His arm pressed against hers softly. She chanced a peek through her thick and messy locks to see his expression. He turned a soft smile on her and she quickly looked away, tugging at her hood again. After a moment she carefully looked over to him again, but this time he kept his eyes forward much to her relief.

After a long moment, she too gazed into the dark forest, listening to the nightly chirp of crickets and the sound of the soft breeze blowing gently through the leaves of the trees. She realized her hands were shaking slightly and took a deep calming breath. Slowly the bushy haired teen leaned into her friend ever so slightly.

Harry must have taken it as some sort of signal because at that moment he raised his arm and hugged her to his side with a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Hermione felt no shame at the flood of tears that followed. She had someone their to comfort and hold her as she finally let it all out. He never lost his gentle reassurance, even as the howl of her beast ripped through her throat. Her best, and maybe only, friend held her until the whimpers died away and the waxing moon hung high in the sky.

IVX: I had to write this, it just seized me and wouldn't let go. I am looking forward to this fic. It will be my first non-crossover fanfic, a big thing for me, and I hope you like it as much as I do... ^_~