She felt when he arrived. Something in her bones knew where he was. When their eyes met, just before the battle broke out, she tipped her chin up in an invitation and slipped behind a nearby tapestry with a hidden alcove. Moments later, he was there.

"Remus," she breathed. "This is it."

"Yes. It ends tonight."

"If I don't-" she didn't finish that awful sentence, his mouth crushed against hers. She'd begun to believe he would never come to her, that the wolf inside her had chosen a hopeless mate and she would die alone. His lips were hard on hers, the kiss sweet and hot. He kissed her like he wanted to crawl inside her and leave pieces of himself inside. She clung to him with everything in her tattered heart. The months on the run, the fear, Ron leaving, Harry breaking down. Her hands clawed at his back, tangled in his hair. She moaned for him, causing him to growl deeply. The sound shot straight to her womb, and she felt dampness in her knickers.

"Hermione, I shouldn't do this," he said, pulling away from her.

"Wait," she started, but she watched as his eyes glowed amber at her. She could see his wolf, smell his maleness. She watched, hypnotized, as he brought a hand up slowly, tilting her head back and baring her neck to him. His breath hitched. He leaned forward and pressed his face against her collar bone, inhaling.

"You are MINE," he rumbled against her skin. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," she sighed, "yes, yes, Remus, yes."

He lifted up, an anguished look passing over his face, before he spun her and pressed her against the wall. He moved her hair, pushing it over one shoulder, and licked up her neck, making her shudder for him. He ground against her, and she felt his hard erection at her bum. She whined, a high pitched sound of need. She felt him kissing her neck, suckling, nipping, and her mind was lost to her. Words, information, her greatest weapon, failed her in that moment and all she felt was him.

"I'm going to mark you," he rasped, his voice rough, the words sounding a bit mangled as if they didn't fit in the mouth that housed them.

"Yes, yes, please," she begged. Undone, she was undone, and then she felt the bite. Pain, sharp and unwelcome, made her gasp. She would have fallen but for his arm locked in a steel grip around her waist. His teeth didn't relent, even when she cried out. He groaned, crunching down harder until she was panting with the agony. Finally, he released her, licking the wound softly. He turned her, and even as he wiped her tears, the edge of male pride stayed in his eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered, kissing her lips gently.

"Remus," she answered, holding his face between her hands before he could go. "I am yours."

The moon light speckled the forest floor through the canopy above, playing tricks on her eyes, she was sure. He looked as shocked as she felt, standing on the other side of the small clearing. His mouth made a small 'o' and his eyes were wide, glancing down and then frantically up again. She had long since lost any embarrassment over her naked form, however, and she took a step forward. He made to turn away, and she let a soft whine escaped her throat.

"Stop running from me! You're killing me!" The words tumbled out, unbidden, before she could rein them in. Her voice was moon rough, the change not far away. The potion was still bitter on her tongue, but at least she knew it was a good one. She'd brewed it herself, of course, meticulously following the notes in Snape's personal potions book. By now, she knew it by heart, but she never took a chance. Had Remus found a potion this month? "Remus?"

"Hermione... We can't do this."

"Do what, exactly?" He flinched at the snap in her words, and the wolf in her had her sinking to sit in the soft dirt. This was as close to submissive as she'd get, though, even for him.

"Be near each other. Be together at all," he said, but he came closer anyway, squatting next to her. She could feel the heat of him, this close to the full moon, and it excited her.

"I'm not a student anymore. I did everything the right way. I helped win a fucking war, Remus. And, need I remind you, that I didn't choose this."

"I know you didn't. And, if it hadn't happened, you would never be trying to choose me," he said bitterly. She rolled her eyes.

"Stop with that shite. I'm special, I wasn't made, I was born. And my wolf chose you the very first time I laid eyes on you. And yours chose me. So why are you doing this to us?"

"I'm not good enough, Hermione, I never have been."

"You. Are." She growled, suddenly heaving herself at him. Even if he was infuriating, she wanted to touch him. He'd disappeared after the Battle. She'd watched him kill Greyback, something he didn't know anyone else had seen. He'd sheathed his wand and ripped the other man's throat out with his bare hands. It hadn't even been close to the full moon. She remembered the conflicting feelings, horror first, then washed under by desire that punched her in the gut. He'd been covered in a spray of hot blood, eyes glowing, a feral snarl twisting his face, and she'd wanted to run to him and let him fuck her against the castle wall. But the battle hadn't been won yet, and they'd both had more fighting to do. And afterwards, he was gone.

"Hermione!" His breath left him in a whoosh as she tackled him, and then his chest rumbled as he grappled her. Before long, he'd maneuvered her around, pinned under him, one hand clasping her small wrists above her head. A smile tugged at his lips, and the sight made her heart sing.

"Play with me tonight?" she asked. His eyes hardened, but she whimpered a little and lifted her chin, showing him her throat. So much for not being anymore submissive. It worked, though. The tightness left him, and he ducked quickly to nip her neck. Just that much contact, and she writhed for him breathlessly.

"Stop that, or play time is over," he admonished, but there was a lot of self-satisfaction in the wolfish grin.

"Yes, sir," she said, before slipping from his grasp and making a break for it. Behind her, his laughter rang out, and they played.

Sometime during the night, their bodies succumbed to the call of the moon, and their play became more primal. They were alone in the Forbidden Forest, the anniversary ceremony for the Battle of Hogwarts long over, but the allure of the Forest irresistible. They hunted, for fun, neither really wanting to kill anything. Mostly they ran. For a while, he'd chase her, and then she'd whirl and tussle with him until he broke away for her to follow after. And when her heart overflowed and she sang her happiness to the moon, he joined in. Their howls bounded around the Forest, and no creatures dared bother them.

The morning found her limbs heavy and sore, as always. The change wasn't an easy thing. Unlike Animagi, werewolves grated through their change as if it were a war within their own body. Hermione had done a bit of research, but had turned up nothing so far in making the change more comfortable.

She blinked, sunlight filtering through the trees above her. She was warm, the morning chill unable to touch her when Remus was so solidly wrapped around her. She doubted she could move, though she wasn't about to try. She was so content. She'd never felt this type comfort before. Even in her childhood home, she'd been restless and easily agitated. She knew now, it was the wolf in her. She didn't understand then. Of course, her parents couldn't understand. After years of digging through ancient books, Hermione had come to understand she wasn't just rare. She was damn near one of a kind. A witch, born to muggles, who was also a genetic werewolf.

And without Remus's bite, she would have walked the rest of her days, itchy in her own skin, because her wolf had needed to be set free. Even now, she could feel the beast inside. As if she could run her hands through its thick fur, only the fur was brushing her skin from the inside.

"Morning," Remus rumbled, snuggling closer to her, his face buried in her wild hair.

"Morning," she whispered back. She ran her fingers idly over the stretch of skin on his back that she could reach, tracing the wild web of scars there. She wondered quietly if he'd let her catalogue them one day, let her kiss each one until he forgot every hurt. He stiffened, and for a moment she feared he was going to leave.

"That tickles," he grunted.

"It does?" She heard the wickedness in her own voice and grinned. Where before she'd been the one immobilized, now she trapped him as she attacked his ribs mercilessly. He let out a very unmanly squeal in his effort to escape her, but in the midst of their wrestling, she ended up straddled across his stomach, him holding her wrists desperately to fend off the tickling. She still, and looked down at him. Something dark slid behind his eyes.

"Hermione—"

"No," she hissed, and abruptly leaned forward and stole his words with her lips. He released her hands and tangled his fingers in her wild hair. She moaned for him, running her nails down his chest. "Please," she gasped into his mouth, "please just accept me. Accept this. Accept us."

For long minutes, there were no words. Only tongues and limbs grappling together, bodies becoming slick with sweat, scratches and light bruises from careless hands. Their breathing rushed, but Hermione felt her heart beating with his. With a heated growl, Remus rolled them over, and Hermione felt him at her entrance. She was so wet, so ready for him. She could feel his need resting against her, but still he held back.

"I have never wanted to reject you. You are perfection, Hermione," he said.

"And you are the same for me, can't you see that?" She writhed, longing for him to take her.

"You're maddening."

"So I've been told," she whispered.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, and he pushed ever so gently into her. Her eyes blew wide, and he stilled. She hadn't thought to tell him.

"You—you waited for me?"

"Yes," she said, "I'm yours."

"Mine." His eyes bled amber, and he thrust in. She screamed for him, her body dancing on a fine line between pain and pleasure. She was so, so ready for it, ready for him. She tried to match his pace, but he gripped her hips, grinding deep inside her and holding her at his mercy. She began to whimper, his frenzied movements driving a pressure into her she'd never known. There was a wave building, and she didn't know whether to ride it or to swim in it.

"Oh, oh, oh," she moaned, unable to manage anything else. Her gasping words seemed to drive him harder. Suddenly, the wave broke around her and any thought of controlling it fled. Her body spasmed in pleasure, convulsing around him, every part of her blown apart in an explosion of unimaginable ecstasy. "Remus!" she wailed, her nails clawing down his back helplessly.

"Fuck, Hermione," he growled in answer, and snapped his hips once, twice, three times deeper and fuller than she thought possible as he drove himself to his own finish. Their breathing was harsh, loud in the quiet forest. He buried his face in her hair at her neck, and she felt him place a soft kiss on the long-healed bite mark he'd given her those many months ago.

"Are you okay?" she asked, stroking his back, still fighting through the post-pleasure haze. He lifted his head and smiled at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She grinned widely.

"That was… It was… I'm…"

"The great Hermione Granger, at a loss for words?" Remus joked, but a glint of masculine pride tinged his eyes. He rolled, snuggling them better in their little nest.

"Remus?"

"Mm hm?" They were both fighting the drowsiness overtaking them.

"Are we okay?" She held her breath, trying not to be scared. After what seemed like an eternity, Remus answered her.

"I can't promise to be perfect. I can't promise that I will always act like I'm supposed to and that I won't have nervous breakdowns. But… Yes. We are okay, Hermione. Mine." He gripped her tightly at that, and she smiled.

"Yes, Remus," she said, "yours."