I once again sit at an empty table, my table, in the corner of the Three Broomsticks, once again alone.
It had been six months since my best friend, a boy named Harry, had killed Voldemort, bringing about the end of the war.
It had also been five months since the followers of Voldemort had launched a retaliatory strike against Harry and his friends, leaving me with lycanthropy.
Yes. Lycanthropy. As in a Werewolf.
Even now, in the midst of the alcoholic haze I've been trying to lose myself in, I can hear Remus's voice telling me to exert control. 'Don't squeeze the shotglass', the voice says. With the curse of the werewolf, came a few 'benefits', if they could even be called that.
I couldn't eat in the Great Hall for some three weeks because of all the people, with their different scents and loud voices, that at the time, grated on my enhanced senses. Honestly, being able to smell the fact that Parvati had shagged someone directly before lunch is not an appetizing aroma. I also had to have reinforcement charms cast on pretty much everything I own for fear of breaking them. Even now when I hug someone I have to be really careful not to break ribs. Superhuman strength isn't something that is easy to control when you are feeling emotional.
Harry can attest to the fact. The poor guy had to be carried up to the infirmary to have his ribs healed after I hugged him a little too enthusiastically, and he had to spend the next couple of days there, in his least favorite spot on the PLANET, while he was on the mend. But he never once blamed me, and every time I tried to apologize for it he said things along the lines of, 'I know you couldn't have helped it, 'Mione,' or 'Don't apologize for whom or what you are. I will never let something silly like Lycanthropy make me stay away from you.'
Is it any wonder I love the man?
'And oh yes, do I ever', I ponder while staring down at the smoking clear liquid in my shotglass. The man had literally used all the influence he had, (which he HATED to do), to speed through the training required for the animagus transformation so that I would have company on the full moon.
His father and friends had taken some three years to complete the transformation.
Harry, for me, completed it in three and a half months.
Of course, Ron had also tried to learn it so it could be the three of us together, as it had always been, but he had given up after Harry had made it all the way through and Ron was still trying to find the animal in his psyche.
Lazy Sod. Although how ungrateful would I have been for trying to chastise him over it?
Another control problem I have, and probably always will, is my aggression. Draco Malfoy learned quickly not to call me a 'Dirty Howling Mudblood,' after I had broken both of his legs and his left forearm. He spent quite some time in the hospital wing himself recovering from that. Of course, it was very soon after I was bitten, so I wasn't expelled and I didn't even lose my Head Girl status, but I was given an awful lot of detentions scrubbing the dungeons. It even would have been worth it if Harry didn't come to keep me company most of the nights under his invisibility cloak.
Which brings us back to my control issues involving Harry. I think that I controlled myself admirably when he started dating that Sally girl with the hyphenated name I can't bring myself to remember, for when they got together I left her legs and left forearm unbroken, and then managed to refrain myself from not ripping her limb from limb when she broke his heart.
And now, he's on a date with Susan Bones on the other side of the town, which is why I'm trying to drink myself into a stupor.
It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't scare away pretty much every eligible male in the school. When I had first been bitten, I was.... Well to be frank, I was slip of a girl at about five and a half feet tall. I can be honest about it. From that point up until my first transformation, I had still been a slip of a girl at about five and a half feet tall. When I awoke after that first full moon, I was an amazon at about six feet, two inches tall or so. I even look down to make eye contact with Ron now.
All of which most likely wouldn't be a problem if the man that I'm in love with weren't a lithe man at five and a half feet tall.
I'm intimidating, plain and simple. The highest O.W.L. scores in the last fifty years, and it would have been the last hundred and fifty if it hadn't been for Tom Riddle, and I'm also probably well on my way to do the same in the N.E.W.T.s. I'm magically powerful enough to stun a full-blooded giant (don't ask), and oh, I can bench-press a Volvo.
Harry is the only one who isn't intimidated by me anymore. Well, him, Remus, Ginny, and Dumbledore. I can even smell fear on Ron for crying out loud.
I sigh to myself and down the shot of Firewhiskey that I've been staring into for the last ten minutes or so. Slowly exhaling the smoke that always seems to be there after a shot of the accused liquid, my thoughts return once again on the crux of the matter.
Werewolves have a dirty little secret that almost no-one else knows about.
The day of the full moon, they feel weak, look sickly, and that night, they transform. This is common knowledge, even amongst muggles.
The day after the full moon, they feel weak, look even sicklier, and recover from their transformation. Again, this is also well known.
The day before the full moon, however.......
They, that is we, feel the desperate need to shag someone or something. It's not written about in textbooks, or even most medical journals for that matter. In fact, in the entire school, only Professor Dumbledore and myself know about it.
'Or at least I hope.'
In any event, the desire grows stronger and stronger as the night progresses, beginning about an hour before the sun goes down and continuing until more than halfway through the night.
So, every twenty-eight days, on that day.... This day, I lock myself in my room, transfigure something or other into a treadmill, and try to exhaust it out of my system. It probably would work actually, if there wasn't one important factor involved.
Harry's bedroom is directly across the hall from mine.
From the Head Girl's room my enhanced senses can smell Harry's sweet scent all the way from the Head Boy's room.
I sigh dejectedly while I pour myself yet another shot.
He smells of wind and the rain, and for all of my vast intellect, I've yet to find better words. Sure, I could probably find a spell to keep his scent out of my room, but I doubt I will ever gather the fortitude to. In fact, I swear I can even smell him now....
I pause with the shotglass almost against my lips, before slowly turning my head to the side, fearing what I would see.
Sure enough, there was Harry smiling that heart-stopping lopsided grin, that tousled 'Fuck-me' hair, and holding the bitch's hand.
Oh, Susan is a nice-enough, intelligent and loyal girl, but she was beginning to date Harry, and therefore a bitch.
"Hello, Hermione", she smiles, while they sit directly across from me, still holding hands.
Make that Bitch with a capital 'B'. The Slut.
I grunt, trying not to glare at her, while simultaneously trying not to look at Harry, and toss back the shot I've been holding to my face since they sat down.
"It's a bit early to be drinking, don't you think?" she says, while staring with a raised eyebrow at the shotglass I just put down.
'O-HO! The Bitch/Slut hybrid speaks!' I'm sure I'm glaring at her now, but risk a look over at Harry to gauge his reaction. Much to my delight, he's not holding her hand any longer and seems to be frowning at her.
"'Mione is quite old enough to be making her own decisions, Susan," he says to her. Suddenly I'm not glaring at her anymore and trying to keep the giddy grin off of my face.
Oh, she knows she's stepped in it now. I saw her eyes widen for a fraction of a second. I can smell the fact that she's started to sweat. Her eyes are darting back and forth, trying to figure a way out of this.
"I'm sorry Hermione, of course you can make your own decisions. I'm just a little worried that you are drinking in the middle of the day. You can understand that, right?" Oh dammit. She just HAD to say the one thing that guarantees forgiveness from not only Harry, but myself as well. Days like today I HATE people who apologize directly.
"Full Moon tomorrow night." I grunt out, in such a way that you can actually Hear the Capital Letters, while I pour myself another shot. I see her eyes widen as realization sets in. Of course the whole school knows about it, but after I put Malfoy in the hospital wing the more prejudiced students (and teachers, I suspect) have thankfully kept their biased mouths shut.
"OH, I'm so sorry Hermione. I just slipped my mind...."
That's it. That's all I can take of her. I stand up from the table, but a bit too quickly, so I lean down to brace myself on it while I regain my equilibrium. "Must be nice, to be able to forget that." I say to no one in particular.
Okay, I'll admit it, that was a bit unfair. But dammit, the Bitch is trying to move in on MY Harry.
He stands up also, looking at me a little worriedly. "Are you okay, 'Mione? You know that Susan didn't mean anything by it."
I sigh internally. I wish I could just profess my undying love for him right here, but I'll be damned if I'll condemn him to a life of living with a werewolf. He wouldn't care, I know that. Everybody and their damn sister, however, would be sending us hate mail, or at least sending ME some, and he would be denied certain things by the same prejudiced wankers who will condemn me before even meeting me.
I feel a hand on my upper arm, and look down to where Harry is staring up at me with a concerned impression. Evidently I sighed aloud. "I'm fine, I'm just gonna start getting back to the castle before it gets dark." He nods, not convinced, and I bend down to give him a hug. He makes a sound of protest before I start squeezing too hard, and I know to back off. I guess I've had a little more to drink than I had thought.
I recap the bottle of Firewhiskey, throw it into my bag, and start staggering out the door and towards the castle. If I look at Susan, I just know that I'm going to start growling, and If I smell Harry anymore before I get myself properly warded into my bedroom, I'm going to just shag him right there.
It's now a couple hours past dark, and I'm running on the treadmill with all of the items in my room, (save the treadmill itself and a sleeping pallet on the floor,) shrunken and placed in a near-indestructible unmovable locked box in case I get the urge to start throwing things in frustration again. Never let it be said that I don't learn from my mistakes.
I have a nagging feeling that I forgot something, but trying to get the image of the time I saw Harry in only a towel out of my head is taking up most of my concentration.
There is a knock on the door, which I ignore. I've warned each and everyone, both male and female, that knows the password to my room not to enter in the three day span around the full moon. Plus, I always have the temporary wards to keep anyone out....
I stop running as I realize just what I have forgotten to do before I ran. The belt on the treadmill carries me off of the machine as I stare in horror at who just walked into the room.
"There is a reason that I told you all not to come in here around full moon time, Harry", I whisper, looking into his eyes from across the darkened room.
"There is a reason that I told you all not to come in here around full moon time, Harry," I hear her whisper. Well, it sounds more like a breathy growl, but suddenly I don't think it was such a good idea to check up on her before bed.
She looked so sad in the Three Broomsticks when Susan and I stopped by and she only drinks Firewhiskey when she's feeling especially down, so it seemed like a good idea at the time. The date, if you could even call it that, didn't go as well as I'd hoped. Susan is a wonderful girl, don't get me wrong, but I have a bad habit of measuring up every date I have against Hermione, and every one of them is left wanting.
I've yet to find the courage to risk our friendship for a relationship, so in the vain hope that it is only a phase, I try to date other girls. Yet somehow, someway, every-bloody-time it always comes back to 'Mione.
I had originally come over here to try to make her feel better, and I also wanted to talk about my date with her, so to be honest I had forgotten completely that she didn't want any company the night before the full moon.
She's walking towards me with a look in her eye that I don't think I've ever quite seen the likes of on her before. I try to maintain eye contact with her because if I don't I just know I'll wind up ogling her body. I take a couple steps back and my back presses against the door. I look down when I hear it click, signifying it is now shut completely, and that is all the distraction I can afford because when I look back to the front, I'm eye level with her breasts.
She's only wearing a black sports bra and some tight black spandex shorts, and she seems to have been running for awhile because I can see the sweat glistening off of her in the low light of the room. I look up to her eyes while absently noting that she's leaning on the door with her arms on either side of my head, and see that same expression coupled with amusement. She's still breathing heavily, and my breath catches in my throat.
The palm of her left hand covers my ear, and her fingers play with the hair near the back of my head. I shudder at the sensation, never breaking eye contact with her, and suddenly I recognize that look.
It's the look of lust.
She leans in to whisper in my left ear, pressing her oh-so-wonderful parts against me in the process.
"You shouldn't be in here...."
I have all of a second to process that thought before she forcefully rips my shirt down the middle, popping off every button, and leaving the entire left side of my torso bare in the process. She picks me up under my arms and forcefully kisses me, making my head spin. When I open my eyes, I see her peeling her sports bra off and over her head.....
She threads her fingers through the hair on the back of my head, her other arm supporting my waist, and dips me back. Leaning over me, she whispers, "... Forgive me."
I awake feeling better than I do most days. I rub the sleep from my eyes and then stretch out, just as I do every morning. My left hand makes contact with something sharp on the way back and I look up to see what's scratched me. It's a broken pair of glasses that look just like......
The memories rushed back to me all at once and I almost let out a sob at what I have done. Looking over to the other side of the sleeping pallet I see Harry just as I'd left him last night. There are large purplish bruises on his wrists where I was gripping him and his clothing is torn to bits and pieces which in turn are scattered around the room. Three long scratches from my fingernails run the length of his torso and he has a black eye. I see two more large bruises along his ribs from where I was holding him while I was on top of him.....
My eyes are watering up, but I can't cry now. I can cry all I want to after I get him to the hospital wing.
I run over to where I stashed my wand near the treadmill, and conjure up some quick clothing for myself.
I turn back to Harry, and notice that his right hand is lying at an unnatural angle, and then the panic begins to set in.....
There is no way I can get him into any clothing with those injuries, and I'm not good enough to conjure it around him. I gently wrap him in sheets from the pallet and pick him up with one arm underneath his knees and the other gently cradling his head and shoulders. I'd use a levitation or the mobilicorpus charm, but since they operate by latching onto the subject's bone structure, that would be very dangerous with the state that Harry is in.
I open the door and in an instant, I'm on the way.
During the entire run, and oh did I ever run, to the infirmary my mind was screaming the fact that I have just ruined any chance I had of keeping Harry as a friend, let alone gaining him as a lover. I had fantasized about what our first time would have been like many, many times, and each and every one of them was gentle, loving, and most of all CONSENSUAL!
I had never once thought that for all intents and purposes, I would rape him.
That's what I did, and even if Harry eventually forgives me, I doubt I will ever forgive myself.
I kick open the infirmary doors and place the Harry cocoon gently on his bed. Yes, HIS bed. The same bed that he is always placed in every time he's here. I doubt anyone besides myself has noticed, but that is beside the point.
"MADAME POMPHREY!" I scream as soon as I was facing away from him. It took her all of three seconds to poke her head outside of her office and run to Harry's bed, shooing me away in the process. I slowly back away as she begins to treat him and sit in a chair outside the wing and cry my eyes out.
I could have been sitting there for minutes, or it could have been hours. Time had no concept in the swirl of guilt and self-hatred running rampant throughout my entire being.
"Ms. Granger," I hear, and look up from where I had buried my face in my overly large hands.
Madame Pomphrey is looking at me with an unreadable expression. "Please follow me."
I follow her into her office and sit down at a chair in front of her desk. Everything reminds me of my freakish size now, but nothing more so than this particular chair does.
"I can assume that what has happened to Mr. Potter was unintentional, correct?" I nod, unable to meet her eyes. "And does Mr. Potter know what happens to werewolves the night before the full moon?"
At this my eyes zoom up to her face, and she looks faintly amused. "Oh, I know the signs. Don't worry yourself too much Ms. Granger. I'm sure once you explain what has happened he will be more understanding than you give him credit for."
I give her a disbelieving look as I stand and start pacing. "How can you say that!?!? I RAPED my BEST FRIEND!" I know that I'm screeching like a banshee but I'm past caring at this point. "How can I ever justify that to him!"
"I think," she said in the normal tone she usually uses, that is, as if I had not just screamed at her, "that if he has any of his mother in him that he will completely understand."
I pause in my pacing, chewing on my lower lip while I remember something that Remus once told me.
He had said something about how a friend of his felt it was her duty to 'help' him on the night before the full moon for a couple of his years at Hogwarts. While he was in love with her, and she with him, he never told her so and she eventually married another man. Could it be that his friend was Harry's mother?
I turn wide eyes to the matron. "Lily was Remus's consort, wasn't she?" I breathe out in a whisper, a stark contrast to how I was just screaming.
She nodded. "It isn't common knowledge you understand, but I was the one who put her back together every month and I recognize the signs."
I collapse into the still too-small uncomfortable chair and breathe out slowly through my mouth. "How is he?"
She smiles faintly at me again. "He'll be mostly fine in about an hour, but he's going to be regrowing the bones in his wrist for most of the day. I'll leave it to you to make sure he keeps his arm in the sling, understood?"
"But what if he wants nothing to do with me!"
"In the unlikely event that comes to pass, you will make sure Mr. Weasley keeps an eye on him."
I nod, defeated. "Can I stay with him until he wakes?" I cannot believe how pleading and afraid I sound. Just like I'm feeling at the moment.
She looks like she's about to say no, but her expression softens and she lets me. I walk uncertainly towards where Harry lies, and he's either under a sleeping charm or he hasn't yet regained consciousness. I sit down roughly on the chair next to his bed, (which is only nominally better than the one in the nurse's office), and put my face back into my hands to weep.
It was well over two hours before Harry awoke, and we had already missed our first class. I was staring out the window overlooking the forest, trying to figure out how to explain last night to Harry, when I heard him begin to stir, and then breathe a sharp intake of breath when he tried to move his right arm out of its sling.
"Harry...." I trail off, and my eyes begin watering again. He's looking at me, expressionless, and I place his repaired glasses gently on his face. (I had picked them up earlier and repaired them when I noticed my conjured robes beginning to fade and had to get real clothing.) He's still not saying anything.
"Harry, say something..... anything.... please....."
"Harry, say something..... anything.... please....."
I'm staring at Hermione, trying to figure out what happened last night. I had left my wand in my own room, since I was only going to check on her before bed, but then she..... pounced.
While I had had fantasies about her being dominant in bed, last night was out of control. Also, it was out of character for her. If she had meant to rough me up so bad she wouldn't be here waiting for me to wake up or crying about it for that matter. Still, it is a little disconcerting to be manhandled by your female best friend.
"What happened?" I whisper to her while pleading with my eyes for a good reason. Instead of explaining right away though, she collapsed forward against me, gently hugging me while she sobbed into my shoulder. I reach around with my good arm to rub her back in an attempt to console her. I know, in my heart of hearts, that my best friend of over six years wouldn't intentionally do what she did last night. This was probably what she was trying to prevent when she banned everyone from her room around the full moon. I say as much to her.
"Shhhhh. It's okay, let it out, 'Mione. It's my fault. I should have stayed out of your room."
This causes her to cry harder. I never have been good at consoling crying females, so I just give up and keep hugging her to me, or actually rub her back while she holds me to herself, since it seemed to be working before I opened my big fat mouth.
Eventually, she calmed down enough to say 'we need to talk' into the large wet spot on my shoulder.
I nod and she helps me into a standing position. I can't help but notice that I'm almost naked, with nothing on save the standard hospital gown.
"Hermione..." I begin, only to have her nod, but still not looking at me. She's looking down at some point on the floor away from where I'm standing. I reach up with my good hand, gently grasp her chin, and turn her head towards me, forcing her to make eye contact. "I need to get some real clothing on before we 'talk', so can you help me back to my room?"
The journey from the hospital wing back to my room, the Head Boy's room, takes longer than it should. If I move my right arm at all it hurts so much that it makes it hard to breathe. The potions that Madame Pomphrey fed me are making me so weak and dizzy that if Hermione wasn't helping me, I doubt I would be able to make this trip at all.
Once in my room, I close the door so that only those with the password will be able to enter it. I bid Hermione to sit on the bed while I move over to my cabinet where my underpants are. I dropped the gown before trying unsuccessfully to pull on my boxers with only one arm.
"A little help here, 'Mione?" I turn to where she is sitting, and see her staring away from me, at the door, with a red face. "Oh, come on! It's not like you haven't seen me before and I can't do this on my own!"
I guess getting a little indignant helped because she partially snapped out of her funk to help me get dressed. After she helped me with my boxers I grabbed a pair of pants and sat on the bed. I got my feet into them fine on my own, but couldn't pull them up far enough to be able to stand and pull them the rest of the way on. Hermione didn't need to be prompted to help me with this one. She knelt in front of me and gently pulled each pant-leg partway up, before I stood and she pulled them on the rest of the way. After buttoning them for me she grabbed my uniform top and helped me get that on as well. I couldn't help but stare at her face while she buttoned the front of my shirt and as she finished the top button our eyes met.
After a few moments of staring, during which my heartbeat quickened considerably, she began to lean down and I closed my eyes. Just when I could feel her short, rapid breaths on my face, the door opened and my now least favorite Weasley stumbled through, breaking the mood. I'm never telling Ron the password to my door again.
"Where were you mate? You missed both of the morning classes!" It's not unusual for Hermione to miss the morning classes the day before and the day after the full moon so I'm not all that surprised he wasn't wondering where she was.
"Ahhh... I guess I got a little too pissed last night after I got back, then fell and broke my wrist. Poppy just released me." No one is surprised that I am on such familiar terms with the school nurse. After I finally got rid of the red eyed bastard half the staff forbade me to call them anything other than their first name. Poppy, Albus, and Filius included.
Ron's eyebrows went up and we both looked over to Hermione who was glaring at Ron like I wanted to. He immediately lowered his eyes, clearly intimidated, and backed up a bit. "Ahhh... well," he grabbed the back of his neck nervously, "I was just... uh... worried, I guess... I'll see you guys at lunch then?" I chanced a look back over to Hermione and seeing she was content to continue glaring, I answered. "Sure. Save us a spot, eh?"
He nodded, finally looking back up at us, and cracked a half of a grin. "See you then, I guess." With those parting words Ron made haste out of the room. I still don't understand why he is so easily afraid of 'Mione when she's angry. I guess that growing up in the magical side of the world tends to make one a bit prejudiced when it comes to so-called 'dark creatures'.
I shake my head in disappointment at the closed door before gingerly setting myself back down on the bed. I pat the bed next to me while looking up at her and silently prod her for the explanation we both know I deserve.
She sits down next to me and rests her head on my shoulder before she begins to speak.
"There is a little known fact about us Lycans, Harry," she begins.
"There is a little known fact about us Lycans, Harry," I say while already dreading his reaction for when I've finished. "The night before the full moon our body's hormones go out of control. Last night had anyone from Hagrid to Millicent Bulstrode walked through that door, I would have shagged him or her the same I did to you. Usually, I just lock myself in my room," and now I can feel the tears slipping down my face, "lock myself in and everyone else out, and run until I'm exhausted enough to sleep."
I can feel him nod against my hair. "So what happened last night then? How did I get in?"
I give a shuddering sigh, trying in vain to stave off the emotional hurricane that I know is coming, and explain as best I can. "Last night, I had entirely too much to drink, and I just.... forgot to ward myself in. I'm so, so sorry...." I can't continue because I'm crying far too hard to speak. He reaches around and pulls me into a one-armed embrace, resting his chin on the top of my head. This alone makes me cry even harder because I know that he doesn't hold it against me and I really, really don't even deserve his friendship, let alone his forgiveness.
"Well, I'll just have to toughen up before next month then, won't I?"
I sit back up from where I was leaning against his shoulder, and look at him wondering what in the nine hells he is talking about. He gives that roll of his eyes and sigh through his nose that he always gives Ron when he is being daft. "Come with me and look in the mirror, 'Mione."
He leads me by the hand to his full-length mirror. "Do you see yourself? No bags under your eyes, your skin actually has some color, and you are awake before noon. Notice a change from your last moon day?"
Now that he has pointed it out, I DO feel a lot better than I usually do this day of the lunar cycle. But that would mean.....
"Harry," I say as I step back away from him. "What are you trying to say?" I can't keep the quiver out of my voice.
"Look, it's obvious that you need what you got last night. I'll bet you a hundred galleons that your transformation tonight goes better than any of your last ones. If a couple hours of pain at worst is the price I pay for easing any of this for you, then I will pay it gladly."
"NO! What if I hurt you, or worse? I can't exactly control myself, if you haven't failed to notice."
He shrugged. "So we put that brilliant mind of yours to work. I'm sure that the witch who brewed polyjuice as a twelve year old can brew a couple of potions to make me a little more resistant to anything that could possibly happen."
My legs give out and I am lucky the bed was behind me because there is no way I can support myself under my own power. "Why are you doing this?" That vulnerable voice is back and I don't think I could handle it if I could have him, but not HAVE him, if you know what I mean.
He kneels in front of me, and takes my hand in his. "Because this is what you need," he said, and then under his breath, "I'd do anything for you...."
My eyes widen.... And shortly after so do his. Seems he had forgotten how well I hear now. I close my eyes, defeated, and slump over. "Alright, Harry...... Alright......"
It's now been about three months since that night, and I am preparing two of the four potions for Harry to take before the sun goes down. While I do appreciate him helping me out our relationship has changed and I'm not quite sure that it is for the better.
The night before the full moon he takes all four of his potions and performs three charms before I lose control. One potion is to stop bruising, two are for bone strength, and the other is for regeneration in his skin and exterior muscle tissue. One of the charms is to keep him.... Well, it keeps him erect no matter what, and another charm is for resistance to scratches and bruises, skin damage type things. It's not always effective though, and that is why we use the charm and the potion.
The last charm is to prevent a pregnancy. Female werewolves cannot carry a baby to term from the simple fact that the fetus cannot survive the nine or ten transformations that would occur over the nine-month period. Why the charm you ask? I don't think I could deal with a miscarriage every month.
On the pre-moon night, as we have begun calling tonight, he comes into my room and wards us in before I can't control myself any longer and ravage him for a couple hours before we fall asleep, usually with me wrapped around him possessively. In the morning I bring him to Madame Pomphrey, just incase. While he hasn't had an injury since that first pre-moon day, I am always rough with him, and worry about his condition. Somehow Professor Dumbledore has cleared Harry to have these three days off as well. I've no idea what they tell everyone, but I assume that people have figured out that it has something to do with the lunar cycle.
Then he takes care of me all day, letting me wear his favorite sweatshirt (it smells just like him), getting my books and just spending time with me until nightfall. When I transform he animages into his griffin form. It's a shame that I cannot take the wolfsbane potion, because I am an absolute terror, I just know it. It turns out I'm allergic to monkshood, and the required dosage would hurt more than it would help. It's a good thing that Harry's griffin form is tough to the point of being almost indestructible.
In the morning after that he conjures a stretcher underneath me, and levitates that up to the hospital wing, where he keeps me company until I'm rested and healed enough to leave. He takes such good care of me, but by the next morning we're back to 'just friends'.
I ladle the potion into vials, then clean up my cauldrons and put them away. It's almost dark and Harry should be here any minute. Getting back to my original point, about how our relationship has changed, I'm now at a point where I'm almost looking forward to the full moon. Why? For the three days around the full moon, I get Harry as a boyfriend. It is absolutely wonderful, but it also breaks my heart every month when the wall between us gets re-erected.
The door opens, and Harry enters holding two of his own vials. He shuts the door, and smiles at me nervously. He's still shy about this whole ordeal, and I for one can't understand why. I'm not even nervous about it anymore and I'm sure that I'm a hell of a lot more repressed than he is. He downs the potions in his hands, one after the other, before grabbing the two I had just prepared and downing them as well. He makes a face in-between the potions, like always. I know he just hates taking them, but as we all know, the only good tasting potions are poisons.
He casts the charms over himself before turning to the door and warding it as best he can. While I am quite a powerful witch in my own right, Harry is THE most powerful wizard alive. It would take three Dumbledores quite a lot of time to break through those wards.
I can't keep my hands to myself anymore, and hug him from behind, nibbling down his ear and neck. It's a good thing that the only time a werewolf's bite is infectious is in the animal state, because I seem to wind up biting him hard at least once every pre-moon day. My hands begin to wander down the T-shirt over his densely muscled chest, and he turns around to kiss me before moving to the locked box in the corner of the room to deposit his wand and empty potion vials.
He bends over to put them in, and I sneak up and grab his arse forcefully. "Hurry up, I need you Harry...."
I've gotten a little better at controlling the urge to ravage him initially, but before the night is over I know that I'll have lost that particular battle. He turns around, pulls his shirt over his head, and steps towards me.
This is a good night.
I wake up, the day after post-moon day, feeling even more depressed than I usually do. Today is the day that Harry and I go back to being only friends, and this heartache isn't worth it anymore. I can hear and smell Harry going about his business in his room so I quickly cast a couple of cleansing and refreshening charms over myself before going to confront him about all of this.
I give the password to his room, and walk in. He's just finished getting dressed, and looks so good with his hair still damp from the shower. I take a deep breath, and prepare to end one of the cycles of pain I have to go through every twenty-eight days.
"We can't do this anymore, Harry," I begin as I sit on his bed. He's looking at me with a confused expression; I doubt he knows what I'm even talking about yet. "I can't just have you for only three nights a month anymore. I......." I open my eyes and stand up so quickly that it startles him enough to lose his balance and stumble backwards. "I've been so afraid to tell you this, Harry....but I can't take it anymore."
I take a breath to try and calm myself a little before staring at the door. There is no way I can be looking at him while I say this. "I've been trying to ignore my feelings for you for a very, very long time." Subconsciously, defensively, I cross my arms under my breasts. "It breaks my heart going back to being only friends every month. I don't..." I swipe at my eyes angrily and take another breath.
"I can't be with you and NOT be with you. I can't even be friends with you anymore, because all it is going to do is cause me pain in the end. I've crossed the line from friendship to love, and it's tearing me apart." I have no idea how he took this bombshell, because as soon as I finished my piece, I ran out of his room and back into mine.
I still haven't unshrunken my things from the moon days since this is the same room I transform in. The sleeping pallet is just as I left it, and I fall down onto it and begin crying once again. I hate being so emotional, but during the week around the full moon my emotions go haywire. Before my infection I was a pretty emotional girl. But now... I look on those days as a time when I had a semblance of control over myself.
I couldn't move after she dropped that bombshell. She actually liked me back!... but then she went and tried to end our friendship over it. I can hear her sobbing from her room. I don't know how I know, but that is the sound of a heart breaking. Every wail, every shuddering breath, every sob makes me lose more and more control over my own tears. I've never really cried, not since before I can remember.
I didn't cry when my uncle beat me. I didn't cry when Dudley and his friends kept me from making any friends of my own. Not when the dementors brought out my first and only memory of my mother, pleading for my life. Not even when Sirius died.
I cry now.
I begin walking, slowly at first, but gaining determination as I move. I open my door, step across the hall, and give the password to her room. I kneel next to her on the pallet, and cup her face in my hands, staring into her eyes. She's finally stopped crying, and she looks almost confused upon seeing my own tear streaked face.
"You don't just tell someone you love them and walk away Hermione Jane Granger." I state, looking back and forth between each of her eyes trying to convey what I'm feeling. "Especially if that someone loves you back."
I close the distance between us, and begin kissing her with all the love I have kept bottled up for who knows how long. She's shocked at first... but gradually begins kissing me gently back. There are no bruised lips, no feverish hands..... this is a kiss about love, and we both know it.
I pull back away, breaking the kiss, and try to gauge her reaction.
"I'm a werewolf, Harry. I can't.... You can't love me. It will cause you nothing but pain, and I love you too damn much to let that happen."
Inside, I'm still amazed that she cusses from time to time. On the outside, however, I show only what she needs to see.... that there will be no room for self-sacrifice.
I grab her hand, and gently run my thumb over her knuckles. "You once told me that I didn't have to sacrifice myself to keep everyone happy. That also applies to you." I lean forward again to give a quick gentle kiss on her lips. "That being said.... I don't think that I could be happy without you."
I lean forward, so that our foreheads are touching, and look into her eyes. "So what's it gonna be, love?"
I don't think I've every enjoyed being snogged this much in my entire life.
Harry and I have been together for going on seven years now. We bought a summer home in northern Alaska, and a winter home on a wizarding island just outside of Antarctica. In both places there is a period of about three months when the sun never sets; therefore I don't have to go through the transformation for half of the year. I objected strongly at first, but Harry said that even if the magic world doesn't recognize our marriage, the muggles and God do, so what's his is ours, and that includes one of the magical world's largest fortunes.
I tried to find a job, but with the amount of moving we do, I'm only in England for two three-month stints. I was moping one day about it, so Harry offered me a job. I now research a cure for Lycanthropy. He figures that if anyone can find it, I can, so it is an investment well worth it.
We haven't had any children yet, because on one hand, I can't carry any to term. On the other, the fact that we move every three months means we lack a stable enough environment to adopt.
This is the main reason I'm trying to cure my sickness. Harry deserves a family, dammit, and I'm going to provide one for him one way or another. I see the way he looks at the Weasley's children when we visit, even though he adamantly denies his yearning when I ask him about it. Men......
I am close to a cure, but I still cannot say how long it will be before I perfect it. The ancient tomes and scrolls that Albus bequeathed to Harry and I in his will are invaluable, but this is going to require a lot of trial and error to finish.
I used to think that every thing bad in my life ran on twenty-eight day cycles.
PMS, Lycanthropy, and the shag-a-thon night.
I now realize that while the first two are most definitely a curse, the third has been more of a blessing.
After all, It did eventually bring me Harry.