Roses are red

Vioelts are blue

I don't own Harry Potter

This is sad, but true

Shout out to my amazing alpha and beta Mrs. Ren and ravenclaw-sass. Without these two amazing women, this fic wouldn't have happened.

This was written for the HP-Creatures fest on LiveJournal - please check out their collection on AO3! There are some super talented writers who have submitted amazing pieces for Dramione as well as other ships within the fandom.

Prompt: A mystery werewolf has been causing havoc across England, leaving a devastating and bloody trail in his wake. When the number one suspect shows up on her doorstep in the middle of the night, Hermione learns that things are rarely as they seem.

Wednesday, 7th April 2004

Hermione Granger lounged in her arm chair, her eyes closed and one arm stretched across her chest so that her fingers could work the knot at her shoulder. It had been yet another gruelling day at the Ministry, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The Head of the Department, Nigel Whitehall, while nice enough to work for, was such a pushover when it came to policies and the desires of the higher-ups who, quite frankly, were far more concerned with their bottom lines than the welfare of non-human magical beings.

Hermione sighed as she pressed the pad of her forefinger into the tense muscle connecting her shoulder and neck. In her role in the Division of Werewolf Support, she was active in locating werewolves, of both the magical and Muggle varieties. Most of her time was spent in the field, especially since…

She froze, her eyes opening wide. Someone was knocking on her door...but who would be calling at nearly ten o'clock at night?

Easing herself out of the chair, the insistent knocking sound came again. Hermione did not reply, but kept her eyes firmly on the white wooden panel that allowed entry to her small town house and grabbed her wand from where she had flung it on the coffee table. Tiptoeing towards the door, Hermione noted that the knocking had ceased. She stopped two feet away from the door handle and strained her ears, but she could hear nothing unusual over the sound of the wind and light rain.

Slowly, Hermione used her wand to unlock the door before muttering a spell which sent the piece of wood swinging inwards. It stopped before it connected with her hall table, revealing an empty porch. Tentatively stepping forwards, so that her toes curled over the threshold, Hermione stuck her head out into the cool night. Drops of rain peppered her face and wand arm as she held it straight out in front of her.

"Hello?" she called. "Is anyone there?"

Something akin to fear bubbled in Hermione's chest. She wouldn't describe it as pure terror; she was a reasonable person and a more than competent witch, but her work in the Ministry had definitely ruffled some feathers...or fur, rather.

As she stood frozen, watching the empty night with bated breath, some of the tension began to ease from her stomach. Surely if someone intended to attack her, she would have been jumped by now. She lowered her wand arm and shrugged, wincing as the action sent shooting pain through her shoulder again. Turning back into the house with the intention of finding a pain potion, Hermione almost missed the rustling in the peony bushes to her right.

Almost.

With lightning reflexes, she was once again pointing her wand towards the street...only this time the tip had found a target. A very wet, bloody, shaking target.

"Merlin!" Hermione clutched her free hand to her chest. "What the -? Malfoy?"

He was badly beaten. Blood dripped from his forehead, across his left eye, tracking a red river over his cheek and down his chin. His clothes had been torn to shreds, and Hermione would have been embarrassed at the sight of all that muscle if it had not been covered in deep gashes and bruises in varying shades of purple. His grey eyes, once full of malignant intent and smokey promises of arrogance, were now dull and heavily lidded.

"Please," he rasped, one hand clutching his torn stomach and the other reaching tentatively towards her. "Please help me."

With that, he fell to his knees, a crumpled heap at her feet. Hermione didn't have time to think. Using her wand, she cast a quick levitation spell and carried the wounded man into her lounge room.