Inell's Fanfiction Archive

Every month, he said it would be the last time. He couldn't keep doing this to Fleur, to Remus, to himself. Then the moon would begin to blaze in the dark night sky and he'd feel it, the restless urge to possess, to claim, to be claimed. He tried to resist (bruises on delicate pale skin), tried to ignore his desire (tears on delicate cheekbones), tried to stay in control (curses spoken in French as she locks herself in the bedroom), but, in the end, he always gave in to the lust and craving that sent him fleeing into the forest, running away from who he was to become what he is now. He'd found Hermione one night shortly after he was released, up late studying the stars in a field near the Burrow. He'd left her with blood and come between her legs and haunted eyes staring at him with confusion, guilt, and horror. Now, though, he knew where to go, where to run. Warm fur against heated skin, keeping him safe and warm. And, in morning, soft skin and gentle hands that brushed through his hair and whispered words of understanding and love. And he found where he truly belonged.