The Walking Wounded

Chapter Four –

It’s been almost a year since I last saw Snape and Lupin. I now refer to Remus by his last name, placing him in the same compartment of my memories with Snape. They were both a means to an end, a way to ease the pain that had consumed the logical intelligence I had led my carefully constructed life by.

It has taken this time for me to move on. I am not totally recovered. I doubt I shall ever be. I still have nightmares.

Doesn’t everybody?

Even Ron has his nightmares. It’s been six months since I’ve seen or spoken to him. I should contact him and see how he is doing, but I do not wish to reopen old wounds.

A few months after the “intervention,” we patched things up and tried to make things work. Tried is the operative word. No matter how hard he tried, Ronald could not forget that I was shagging Snape and Lupin behind his back. He forgave me for my indiscretions, but he just couldn’t forget them.

I’m better off alone. I still have issues. But they are mine, and I shall overcome them. I no longer wallow in apathy. The intervention opened the floodgate of my anger. I had no other choice but to deal with it. I have occasional bouts of depression, but they are nothing compared to the hell I have dealt with since the end of Voldemort’s reign.

I work for Gringott’s now. I am a lowly Curse-breaker.

I love it!

I get to travel the world and see interesting places and people. I have removed myself from the cold, gray world of Great Britain, determined to never go back. There is nothing for me there.

Sipping my tea, I study the journal before me and ignore the traffic of pedestrians as they walk by on the crowded Jakarta streets. I am here on assignment, enjoying the sweltering heat and the challenges presented to me.

A shadow falls across my small table, and I clear my throat, hoping that the individual takes the hint and leaves quickly.

“I knew you were angry, but I never figured you for a coward, Miss Granger,” a sarcastic drawl creeps up my spine; alerting me to a presence I would rather forget.

“Hello, Professor,” I reply casually, refusing to rise to his bait. “What brings you to Jakarta?”

Pulling a chair from a nearby table, he drags it to my table and sits down. “You.”

My eyes rake over the black wizarding robes that conceal the lean muscles I grew to enjoy. “You said it yourself, Snape. That part of our relationship is over.”

He studies me, his scrutiny causing me to feel the familiar lust I tapped into to survive that dark time of my life.

“Pity,” he says more to himself than to me.

“I don’t need that either,” I state, tossing money onto the table. I stand and prepare to leave. His hand circles my wrist, and I look at it with hatred in my eyes.

“You evoke many emotions, but pity isn’t one of them.” Snape’s grasp tightens as I try to pull away.

I scoff. “Please, don’t tell me that you came all the way to Jakarta for sex. If it’s sex you’re after, I suggest the red-light district. They have women who cater to your kind of sexual proclivities.”

Snape remained silent, whether unwilling to carry on with the banter or unable, I do not care. Or do I? I feel the familiar tingle of lust pool in my loins.

“I regret…” The emotions in his eyes are endless and dark as his thumb caresses the pulse at my wrist. “…Not helping you sooner.”

I snatch my wrist from his grasp, stand, and glare at him. “I can do without your kind of help, thank you. I barely survived it! That… intervention… opened a floodgate, one that none of you had to deal with. You all opened it and deserted me!”

“You were never alone!” he hissed, returning my scorn. “Mr. Weasley was there for a reason.”

The sadness in his eyes turns to mirth. He chuckles, standing and reaching for me again. His speed is like that of a striking snake, and I find myself off balance and against his lithe form. “Do you plan on hating all of us forever?”

“Just you.” My retort is quick. It, unfortunately, does little damage to his ego.

“So Lupin still has a chance, then?” he questions, his breath soft against my cheek.

I am helpless to resist that which has always drawn me to this man. I do nothing to stop the brush of his lips against mine. Awareness spreads through me like a brush fire across thirsting land. The desire is curse and cure. I yield to his aggressive possession like petals of a flower against a driving rain. His tongue pierces my lips, greedily seeking to duel with mine. Touching my tongue to his, I groan.

Breaking the passionate kiss, Snape stares down his crooked nose and kisses my sunburned cheek. “As much as I would enjoy…” he censures his words, his heated gaze capturing my well-kissed lips.

I stare at his lips, remembering how they felt upon my body. They are thin and wet, slightly open and revealing his crooked teeth. I want to remain angry with him, but I know that I will shag him if he wants it.

His shuddering breath stirs my hair. “Lupin needs you.”

--

Mention of her former lover shutters her passionate gaze and causes her to withdraw. I could have cast a Disillusionment Charm and fucked her in the middle of this sweltering heat. She would not have denied me. Yes, she would continue hating me, but she would have welcomed my sexual advances.

Tucking a runaway curl behind her ear, Miss Granger looks down the street. “He needs me, huh? If he needs me, then where is he? Oh, I know! How about a threesome! Perhaps, between the three of us, we could become one whole person.” Her words are bitter and sarcastic.

I cannot contain my smirk as her suggestion strikes a cord within me. In time, a ménage a trios is exactly what I want. The werewolf has resisted the mating instinct longer than I thought possible. I have helped him past the last eleven transformations, subjecting myself to the violence of his lycan rage as he pines for the female of our “pack.”

He survived the first full moon after biting Miss Granger by sheer dumb luck. I offered myself as a “beta” to him two nights before the second full moon. That appeased the beast that lurked behind the mild façade for a few months, but the anniversary of the “bite night” was nearing, and his need for Miss Granger could no longer be denied.

I begrudgingly admire the wizard or witch who created the Lycan Curse. They thought of everything. A pain so horrible once a month, it drives most to end their lives. The more I ponder the matter, the more I am convinced that a witch is the originator of the curse – monthly cycles and all. The mating aspect of the curse is especially dangerous, for the mated female would often be hunted and bitten by the male. Thankfully, the Wolfsbane Potion sees to Lupin’s sanity during that cursed time. If the mated pair break apart within the year of the claiming, the werewolf will die.

They can wait no longer. I’m not even sure if the curse will affect me. I submitted myself to Lupin’s mark before the second full moon. I just couldn’t bring myself to watch him suffer needlessly.

Lupin needs her to return to England. “He is ill.”

She crosses her arms over her breasts, unable to contain the look of concern that dances across her carefully schooled features. “Give my regards to Professor Lupin. I hope his health returns soon,” she states, gathering her bag and trying to walk away.

“Please…” I grab her bag to prevent her retreat. “…Hermione.”

The use of her given name is a mere whisper. I tread on fragile feelings. The woman before me is weary. She has no idea that our fate rests on her good graces. She has no idea that her near full-moon trysts with Lupin cost him dearly.

The bloody fool never mated with Tonks, but he mated with Hermione. Wolves, even Werewolves, mate for life.

The bloody fool had lost control and had bitten their former student, sealing his fate and damning her to a life of madness.

“Do you have nightmares, Miss Grangr?” Tugging on her bag, I coax her back to the table. I only have to look in her haunted eyes for the answer.

“Doesn’t everyone?” she whispers.

“But not everyone dreams of the agonizing pain of the transformation during a full moon.”

Her scowl deepens. “How did you know?”

“Lupin is no saint, Miss Granger. Even he has his limits. As you used us, you skirted a dangerous edge. The pain you sought was granted in a variety of ways. I’m only sorry I wasn’t enough for you. You sought out Lupin dangerously close to the full moon. You goaded him into biting you.”

The heat of the memories infuses her cheeks as the dawning of understanding crosses her features. Though intelligent, she knows not what she has done. “He’d kill me if he knew I was here. I was lucky to find him after the last full moon. He covered quite the distance in an effort to find you.”

“Oh, no!” Her cheeks are no longer rosy with sun, but ashen white. The dawning of realization makes her swoon. “What have I done?”

Normally I would take great joy in another person’s misfortune, but not in this instance. Not when it affects me directly. Even though I have spent most of my life despising Lupin, I have grown comfortable with him. I do not wish to see him suffer needlessly, nor do I wish to lose him to the lycanthropic madness. “You consented to be a werewolf’s mate. Lupin shall die by the light of the next full moon. I am not sure if you shall survive it either.”

--

TBC

Author’s Notes -- I’m not using a beta-reader for this story and hope that it isn’t too obvious. All mistakes are my own. If you see something that is wrong, please point it out. Thanks!