[ Another full moon, another night that Hermione spends entirely awake, sitting in her basement and watching over the wolf. Padfoot and Godric are in there with him in lieu of Hermione, not wanting to turn into a lioness, still afraid of what it might mean to go back into a form that had caused such death from her own anger. It's easier for her to let the dogs in with him for now, let them move to press close and playful with Remus during the night after his careful dose of Wolfsbane and the magic of her boon.
It's early morning when she finally dozes off, exhaustion overcoming her, and she entirely forgets that she hasn't taken her dose of Dreamless Sleep.
The nightmare comes without her wishing for it. It's slow, the phasing in and out of Dorian's face, dead and gone and covered in her own bloody handprints, her fingers brushing over her friend, her hands shaken and unsure, his body dropping in front of her. Then there's the pounding of blood in her ears, the woman laughing, echoing, here and there, like there are a dozen of her, fingers twitching as she screams, shouts at her, turns; her jaw clamps around the neck of the murderer, tearing, ripping, destroying her, clawing her to shreds as punishment for daring to hurt her friend --
when Hermione wakes up she's screaming, sobbing in terror, the echo of it loud in the nearly empty basement, a shuddering noise that overcomes her. She can't stop, body twisting as she lurches, trying to fight back but losing herself, unable. ]
[Even with the spell, the transformation to wolf and back to himself is still incredibly painful, and Remus allows himself to collapse in a boneless heap on the floor once it is done, tugging an old blanket Hermione had supplied earlier over himself to preserve his dignity. A night of transformation is anything but restful, and so Remus finds himself tumbling headlong into a deep and dreamless sleep, not bothering to register that Hermione is right there beside him and that sometimes she would encourage him out of the cage and up to bed at this point.
Not even Remus, bone-weary as he is, can sleep through the sounds of Hermione's screaming, however, and he wakes with a start, his heart pounding, suddenly on edge. Oh god, what has he done? For that is the first thought that comes to mind, waking to such sounds after a night of the full. He pays no heed to his weariness or his current state of undress (save for the blanket) or the two dogs, gathering beside him and looking very confused by the situation - he throws himself towards the bars and his young friend.]
Hermione...!! Hermione, what is it? What's the matter? [He can feel his heart pounding in his chest.]
[ She jerks back from the voice, her own desperate as she slips and snaps awake, her eyes flicking around with desperation, not wanting to face what might be there. She looks at her hands and swallows when she doesn't see blood, lifting them to card through her hair, each breath coming in hard and fast - it's as if she had run a marathon, exhaustion seeping into her and making her swallow the lump in her throat, shifting to push herself back against the wall.
It takes a little while for her to realise that it was Remus that called for her and her eyes turn, her expression petrified before she realises what's happening. Slowly, she pushes herself to her feet, ignoring the pounding fear that she can feel inside before she steps over, unlocking the cage and letting the dogs come to her side, snapping towards her - they want to help, she knows, but she's scared to touch them, as if she might hurt them or damage them somehow. Instead, she just smiles shakily at Remus. ]
Just a bad dream. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.
[Remus frantically takes in the state of her, although she doesn't seem to be injured, and as far as he knows, he doesn't remember getting out and attacking her the night before. It's hard to keep things straight, even with the potion, and it's hard not to jump to conclusions, waking up after the full to screaming like that. He's gripping the bars hard with one hand, the blanket tightly around himself with the other as he waits for her to acknowledge him, waits for her to let him out so that he can drag himself forward and out and towards her.]
Hermione... You were screaming. I thought... [He shakes his head, ruefully.] Are you alright?
[ Her eyes flick over him, here and there, before what he thinks settles around her. Instantly, she moves and drops to his side, knees hitting the floor hard, her arms wrapping around him - unconcerned with how he looks or the state of his dress. Her arms squeeze him tight and the silent message is careful, obvious. You could never hurt me. I trust you. Still, she moves back, her hands on his shoulders and her eyes on his face. ]
I didn't mean to fall asleep, I was supposed to be watching you and keeping you company.
[ Her expression hardens as Godric comes closer, whining, pressing his nose against her hand - he's picking up on her distress and wants to take care of her, to comfort her and smother her in his affection. She looks back up at him, careful; all the months before this, for the last year, even, she had been a lion. She knows this month is different and she's scared to admit why. ]
[Remus shakes his head, wrapping his arms around her in turn, a bit shakily, exhausted now that the adrenaline that had woken him with her screaming is starting to wear off. She's brushing him off, of course. But he won't have it. Something is wrong, something is really wrong. She refused to transform with him, and then she woke up screaming, and Remus isn't going to let her tell him that she's fine and leave it at that. He knows what it's like to tell such a lie and he won't have it.]
[ She breathes out, her eyes squeezing closed even as she looks up to let herself take him in. Hermione knows, logically and emotionally, that she can trust Remus, but that doesn't mean it's easy. It doesn't mean she's capable of expressing all the things that are wrong without her suffering all the more for it. ]
[Remus pulls back to try and look her in the eye, search for what might be wrong, and see if it's on her face. He adjusts the blanket around himself slightly - grateful that it's as large, soft, and warm as it is, tucking it into some semblance of a toga of sorts, before leaning forward to take her into his arms once more.]
Please, Hermione. I'd like to help you, if I can... [Please let him know what's wrong, what's happening, so that he can try and help fix it.]
[ She can't look at him; that's all she can think for a long while. She can't look at him because he'll see her and think of how awful she is, how horrible, the disgusting thing she had done with her own hands and teeth and claws. They had fought in a war, of course, herself and Remus and the rest of their friends, but nothing could prepare them for this. Surely not. ]
I - Remus, someone came and - and they killed Adela, they hung her in a tree and then came after me, too. Dorian tried to protect me and she stabbed him, he died in my arms, I can still feel it all over me...
[ She chokes back on the rush of tears, her hands gripping at the blanket, unconcerned with what she's doing. She's shaking, her throat tight, but she has to continue. She can't hide this from Remus; not when he's trusted her with so much. ]
I was so angry, she'd hurt innocent people, it's not - I didn't want to do it, I just got so mad and I thought if I transformed then I'd be able to defend myself! But she ran!
[ Anyone that's seen television or read about wild animals knows what happens when you run from a predator; you bare weakness, you show them you're afraid, and they take you down. ]
[Remus isn't quite sure who Adela is, but that doesn't matter in this moment. What does matter is that someone has killed her, and that this has upset Hermione. That that someone killed Dorian, and he died in her arms. He wonders whether she knew about his immortality - surely she must now, if not before. What a shocking way to discover it, however.
That too is a discussion for another time. For as soon as she speaks of transforming, and the woman running, and mentions blood, Remus has a fair idea what might have happened. He has been a predator before, after all. Hell, he is one, every day of his life. He knows what such a moment would present itself as, especially in such a heated and emotional moment as that.]
Oh, Hermione... [He murmurs softly, reaching a hand up to brush through her hair, cradling her close.] I'm so sorry.
[ She knows that, of all the people in the world, Remus might be the one best suited to understand her. He had almost killed her, once, she thinks, remembering third year and his transformation, her fear and her panic, but she also knows that none of that matters. Remus, when he turns, has no control over himself. The werewolf, Moony, is something without the same rationale that she and Remus share when they're like this, human and human alike. When she turns into a lioness she is still Hermione, even if her mind is a little numbed by her traditional lioness instinct and the fact that the mind is less human.
Still, her hands grip at him, her body moving and pressing closer, desperate for his comfort, desperate for someone to tell her that it's truly okay. His hands are in her hair and she breathes out, a sharp little noise, hitching through her sobs as she tries to force herself to calm down. She can't brush the thoughts from her mind, the memories of blood and pain, the taste of flesh in her mouth and the feeling of it clamped under her jaws, and it makes her feel sick even now.
Dorian had woken up, of course, and Gilgamesh had come and cleaned the blood from her face, but the memories haunted her all the same, her eyes squeezing tighter and tighter until it hurts, burning, aching inside of her and leaving her feeling weak and bereft, as if something has been taken from her - as if someone has reached inside of her and ripped out a part of her and left it there on the ground on that day, destroying her. ]
It was my fault, all of it, all my fault. If I had been better, if I hadn't lost my magic, if I had moved, if I hadn't...
[ If I hadn't failed, she screams at herself, then none of this would have happened. ]
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february, 2702, nimh gleanne - haven townhouse. (cw: mention of gore/death)
It's early morning when she finally dozes off, exhaustion overcoming her, and she entirely forgets that she hasn't taken her dose of Dreamless Sleep.
The nightmare comes without her wishing for it. It's slow, the phasing in and out of Dorian's face, dead and gone and covered in her own bloody handprints, her fingers brushing over her friend, her hands shaken and unsure, his body dropping in front of her. Then there's the pounding of blood in her ears, the woman laughing, echoing, here and there, like there are a dozen of her, fingers twitching as she screams, shouts at her, turns; her jaw clamps around the neck of the murderer, tearing, ripping, destroying her, clawing her to shreds as punishment for daring to hurt her friend --
when Hermione wakes up she's screaming, sobbing in terror, the echo of it loud in the nearly empty basement, a shuddering noise that overcomes her. She can't stop, body twisting as she lurches, trying to fight back but losing herself, unable. ]
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Not even Remus, bone-weary as he is, can sleep through the sounds of Hermione's screaming, however, and he wakes with a start, his heart pounding, suddenly on edge. Oh god, what has he done? For that is the first thought that comes to mind, waking to such sounds after a night of the full. He pays no heed to his weariness or his current state of undress (save for the blanket) or the two dogs, gathering beside him and looking very confused by the situation - he throws himself towards the bars and his young friend.]
Hermione...!! Hermione, what is it? What's the matter? [He can feel his heart pounding in his chest.]
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[ She jerks back from the voice, her own desperate as she slips and snaps awake, her eyes flicking around with desperation, not wanting to face what might be there. She looks at her hands and swallows when she doesn't see blood, lifting them to card through her hair, each breath coming in hard and fast - it's as if she had run a marathon, exhaustion seeping into her and making her swallow the lump in her throat, shifting to push herself back against the wall.
It takes a little while for her to realise that it was Remus that called for her and her eyes turn, her expression petrified before she realises what's happening. Slowly, she pushes herself to her feet, ignoring the pounding fear that she can feel inside before she steps over, unlocking the cage and letting the dogs come to her side, snapping towards her - they want to help, she knows, but she's scared to touch them, as if she might hurt them or damage them somehow. Instead, she just smiles shakily at Remus. ]
Just a bad dream. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.
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Hermione... You were screaming. I thought... [He shakes his head, ruefully.] Are you alright?
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I didn't mean to fall asleep, I was supposed to be watching you and keeping you company.
[ Her expression hardens as Godric comes closer, whining, pressing his nose against her hand - he's picking up on her distress and wants to take care of her, to comfort her and smother her in his affection. She looks back up at him, careful; all the months before this, for the last year, even, she had been a lion. She knows this month is different and she's scared to admit why. ]
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Hermione, please. What's wrong?
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I did something awful.
[ She swallows, shakes her head. ]
Really awful.
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Please, Hermione. I'd like to help you, if I can... [Please let him know what's wrong, what's happening, so that he can try and help fix it.]
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I - Remus, someone came and - and they killed Adela, they hung her in a tree and then came after me, too. Dorian tried to protect me and she stabbed him, he died in my arms, I can still feel it all over me...
[ She chokes back on the rush of tears, her hands gripping at the blanket, unconcerned with what she's doing. She's shaking, her throat tight, but she has to continue. She can't hide this from Remus; not when he's trusted her with so much. ]
I was so angry, she'd hurt innocent people, it's not - I didn't want to do it, I just got so mad and I thought if I transformed then I'd be able to defend myself! But she ran!
[ Anyone that's seen television or read about wild animals knows what happens when you run from a predator; you bare weakness, you show them you're afraid, and they take you down. ]
There was so much blood...
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That too is a discussion for another time. For as soon as she speaks of transforming, and the woman running, and mentions blood, Remus has a fair idea what might have happened. He has been a predator before, after all. Hell, he is one, every day of his life. He knows what such a moment would present itself as, especially in such a heated and emotional moment as that.]
Oh, Hermione... [He murmurs softly, reaching a hand up to brush through her hair, cradling her close.] I'm so sorry.
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Still, her hands grip at him, her body moving and pressing closer, desperate for his comfort, desperate for someone to tell her that it's truly okay. His hands are in her hair and she breathes out, a sharp little noise, hitching through her sobs as she tries to force herself to calm down. She can't brush the thoughts from her mind, the memories of blood and pain, the taste of flesh in her mouth and the feeling of it clamped under her jaws, and it makes her feel sick even now.
Dorian had woken up, of course, and Gilgamesh had come and cleaned the blood from her face, but the memories haunted her all the same, her eyes squeezing tighter and tighter until it hurts, burning, aching inside of her and leaving her feeling weak and bereft, as if something has been taken from her - as if someone has reached inside of her and ripped out a part of her and left it there on the ground on that day, destroying her. ]
It was my fault, all of it, all my fault. If I had been better, if I hadn't lost my magic, if I had moved, if I hadn't...
[ If I hadn't failed, she screams at herself, then none of this would have happened. ]