CHAPTER 1
March 13, 1998
"You ready to have some fun, little girly?" The thick, rasping voice of Fenrir Greyback was distant in Hermione's ears. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, huddled in a heap on the wet floor of some dark recess of Malfoy Manor. She didn't answer him.
"I asked you a question, you filthy Mudblood!" He leapt towards her with a snarl, wrenching her head back by her hair and leaning forward to press his face against her skin. A choked whimper escaped her when she felt his foul teeth skimming across her neck, but she still didn't answer. He inhaled deeply, taking a moment to move his lips obscenely over the pulse at her throat before tossing her viciously back onto the floor of her cell, laughing all the while.
"It's nothing to me," he said, baring his sharpened teeth in some semblance of a smile. "I'll have you screaming soon enough."
Hermione mused, in some detached part of her brain, over how fitting it was that she was going to die on Friday the 13th. She'd never been much of a superstitious person, so she supposed this was life's cruel way of punishing her with the irony. She had been held captive at Malfoy Manor for over four days, now. The first two were spent being tortured mercilessly by Bellatrix Lestrange- Crucio'd to within an inch of her sanity, then carved up with a tiny cursed blade, punished for every question she didn't answer, and even the ones she did. The knife was wickedly sharp, and her wounds burned hot on her skin even days later. She didn't suppose it would matter if they ever healed, since she'd be dead long before anyone else would see 'Mudblood' carved into her arm. She was vaguely proud that even through the horrors inflicted on her, she hadn't given up Harry and Ron, or their Horcrux mission. The sword of Gryffindor was safe. "It's a copy, it's just a copy," she'd screamed, but even when Griphook the goblin had corroborated her lie, the torture didn't stop.
In some miraculous stroke of unprecedented luck, Dobby the house elf had appeared from nowhere to rescue the trio from the Manor. Hermione had allowed herself one bursting moment of hope before the gigantic crystal chandelier had collapsed from the ceiling, directly on top of her. She was immediately knocked unconscious, and when she woke, it was here: a dark, wet cell with only Fenrir Greyback for company. "You're mine," he'd told her in a lecherous whisper, "my prize, my reward. The Dark Lord rewards those who serve him well, little girl."
He'd kicked her around and viciously threatened her for two days now, but she knew he'd been waiting for tonight- Friday the 13th. The full moon. She hoped Harry and Ron were alive. She hoped they wouldn't risk coming back for her- she'd be dead soon, anyway.
Greyback was stalking around and around along the walls, snarling to himself. There were no windows in the cell, so it was impossible to tell how long she had before he transformed- before he slaughtered her. He stopped and grinned at her, and for a terrible moment Hermione wondered if he was reading her thoughts.
"You don't think I'm going to kill you, do you girly?" He took a step closer and she shrank back reflexively. "Now why on earth would I do that? I'd rather like to keep you, I think. No, I won't kill you. I'll tear your pretty little body to shreds, I will. You'll be so mangled your body will be forced to accept the virus to survive… and then you'll be one of mine." He stepped even closer, mouth still stretched wide in a terrible grin, but only a moment later his face contorted, teeth still bared in a horrible grimace. His whole body stiffened and he fell to his knees, groaning. The moon.
Hermione gathered every last pathetic remnant of strength she had left and lurched to her feet, heart pounding wildly. The cell that she was held in was made up of four dark stone walls with a single arched wooden door in one of them- always locked, and reinforced by strips of thick iron bolted up and down across it. She threw herself against the door, wrenching at the handle fruitlessly. Behind her, Greyback's moans had evolved into shouts of agony. She whirled around at the sickening sound of snapping bones and stared in terror at the man- now wolf- on the floor before her, snarling as his teeth sharpened and elongated, bursting from his mouth. His last scream morphed into an earsplitting lupine howl, and Hermione slammed her back against the door again, her lips open, but her voice too far gone to scream. Her mind was awash with thoughts of wandless magic, trying desperately to remember some theory or silent incantation to save her life; she was unable to summon even the tiniest flicker of magical energy.
The enormous grey wolf standing in front of her leveled its sharp amber eyes on her small form, its fur rising as it bared its teeth and growled menacingly. Its head rose up to well above the level of Hermione's waist, and its pointed ears were laid flat back against the skull in unmistakable warning. She fought to keep her eyes open and choked out a terrified sob, her feet scrabbling on the wet floor as if she could melt through the solid door behind her. It felt like an eternity of standing there helplessly, staring at the beast in front of her, before the werewolf finally rounded on her. Greyback leapt towards her faster than she could react, his long claws raking a path from her face down to her shoulder. That time she did scream, her throat splitting in protest, the sound rising from her hoarse and strangled. She could feel the blood already pouring from the wounds, dripping hot down her face and into her eyes. There was barely time for the pain of the first gashes to set in before he was on her again, his heavy body knocking her back against the wall with a crash. She tried in vain to kick at his throat, but her head cracked loudly against one of the iron bars across the door. Her vision went blurry just as the werewolf's teeth tore roughly into her left side. The wolf's jaws tightened and he shook his head viciously, his long teeth tearing deep wounds into her flesh. Pain lanced through her body like poison- which, Hermione supposed, it was. The fire in her arm from Bellatrix's cursed cuts was nothing compared to the agony of Greyback's bite.
He wrenched his head back only to close his jaws on her a second time- this time on her wrist- and she screamed again as she felt bones snap under the pressure. Somewhere in a distant recess of her mind, Hermione thought she heard the bangs and crashes of spellfire. She was starting to fade from consciousness, and the rake of claws across her back faded to a dull burn along with the rest of her senses. She was so far gone that when the heavy door exploded into a million splinters behind her, she only sagged onto the floor and squinted her eyes against the sudden brightness flooding the tiny cell. Greyback let out an earsplitting howl, but it was abruptly cut off by a flash of brilliant green light, silhouetted against three shadowy figures. The world was spinning around her- Hermione felt a strange mix of relief and fear of her unknown saviors, but her thoughts were quickly overtaken by the pull of unconsciousness. The last thing she heard was the sound of shouting voices, muffled by the blood pounding in her ears, before she slipped into blackness.
Some undetermined amount of time passed before Hermione woke up with a start, roused to consciousness by the sounds of drawn out howls and splintering wood. She gasped and tried to leap from the bed, but her feeble attempt at sitting up was foiled by the agonizing pain pulsing over her left hip. She tried to open her eyes but they were covered by some kind of bandage- or blindfold, she thought for a panicked moment- so that everything was bathed in blackness. Her head shook wildly from side to side, even as a woman's voice spoke her name in soothing tones.
"'Ermione," she heard the voice say, "'Ermione, love, you are safe now. We 'ave you."
Suddenly the room was pierced with another howl, and Hermione thrashed again. She opened and closed her mouth silently at first, trying to force the syllables out through her ruined throat- "G… G... Grey-"
"Shhh, 'Ermione, eet is not Greyback. You are safe. He is gone now," said the woman. Fleur? "You should sleep now. Here, you should sleep." Hermione felt a cool liquid slide between her lips and instinctively swallowed- Dreamless Sleep. She almost immediately started slipping back into unconsciousness, the sounds of the room fading around her.
Through her haze, she heard a vaguely familiar voice cut into the conversation, sounding stressed.
"Could you do something about him? This was the worst possible place for her to be after everything she just went through-"
"…fucking tried, okay, I can't go in there without getting torn to shreds- he can smell her, he's going mad…"
"Harry?" Hermione mumbled weakly. "Sirius?"
If they heard her, she never knew- sleep claimed her before she heard a response.
March 17, 1998
It was three days before Hermione woke again. When she did, she ignored the dull pain in her wrist to reach for the bandage that was still blocking her sight, desperate to remove it and take in her surroundings. She noted with annoyance that the stiff gauze was glued to her skin with a mixture of dried blood and sticky ointment, but she had only struggled with it for a few seconds before a second pair of hands swooped in to help. It peeled away from her skin with a rather uncomfortable tug and her field of vision was flooded with sunlight.
The sudden brightness made her eyes water, and Hermione blinked away the remnants of sleep and tears to be met with a set of brilliantly green eyes, framed in familiar black glasses.
"Harry?" She asked hoarsely. The boy immediately clasped one of her small hands in both of his and scooted his chair closer to her side.
"Yeah, it's me," he said, giving her a worried smile. "You're awake… fucking hell, you're awake."
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. When she opened them again, she didn't look at Harry- she turned her head this way and that, trying hard to take in all her surroundings. She was lying on a narrow bed made with light blue linens, centered in what appeared to be a small bedroom. Old, yellowed lace curtains hung over a tall window, letting in the sunlight that had temporarily blinded her. The room was nearly empty except for the bed, a small bedside table, and the chair that Harry was seated in; it didn't take her long to peruse its contents- far less time than she needed to gather her thoughts. When she finally dragged her eyes back up to meet Harry's, he was still staring at her.
"Yeah," she said at last, "I'm awake. Where am I? What… am I dead?" Her voice was scratchy and she winced at the pain in her throat. Harry immediately handed her a vial filled with a deep purple potion. She didn't drink it- just tilted the vial to one side and watched as the viscous liquid slowly moved in the glass.
"No. You're not dead, thank fucking Merlin." His grip on her hand tightened. "That'll help with your throat," he said, gesturing to the potion in her hand. She sniffed it tentatively and grimaced- it smelled like strong cough syrup- but swallowed it all the same, and felt her torn throat immediately mend. She sighed gratefully and Harry smiled in response.
"We didn't want to feed you too many potions in your sleep," he explained.
"Who's we? Where am I?" Hermione tried to sit up and felt a cold rush of pain shoot through her body. She moaned and lay back down on the pillow, closing her eyes again.
"Well, first, you aren't dead," she heard Harry repeat. "To answer your second question, we're at Lupin Cottage. It was… Sirius Apparated us here. First place he thought of, besides Grimmauld Place. And you know how he feels about going back there."
Hermione furrowed her brow- the movement drew attention to how peculiarly stiff her right temple felt, and the memory of Greyback's claws raking down her face flashed to the forefront of her mind. "What happened, Harry? Tell me what happened… Starting from when… when you all left the Manor."
His hands fiddled with hers, still clasped between them, for several long moments.
"I thought you were dead," she whispered, pleaded. "I'd hoped… but I didn't know…"
"It was Dobby," he finally said. He seemed to have difficulty finding the words. "He… house elf magic works where we couldn't- he got through the wards. He Apparated in, but you knew that. He got Luna out, and Dean and Ollivander- they were all in the cellar, with us. Then he came back and we tried to get to you but we… the chandelier fell, and then Bellatrix had you and Vol… You-Know-Who was nearly there- you were blacked out and we Apparated out." His voice was choked with emotion, and Hermione cracked one eye open to examine his face.
"I'm not… I understand, Harry," she said. "You did what you had to do. You're the most important-"
"Don't, Hermione." His hands were gripping hers so tight she flinched, and he quickly released them and swallowed thickly.
"We went to Shell Cottage- Bill and Fleur's," he continued in a heavy tone. "Dobby didn't make it. Ron was splinched when we Apparated, he was in bad shape- he's still there. If I'd lost all of you at once, I'd… I don't… We spent four days, the four days that you were alone, we were trying to break the wards to get back to the Manor. Bill breaks curses for a career and even he- it took- we came as soon as we could." His low voice was absolutely dripping with guilt and pain. I can't- I'm sorry we were too late, I'll never-"
"I'm alive. You weren't too late."
"You're a fucking werewolf now, Hermione, you can't tell me I wasn't too bloody late."
And there it was- the elephant in the room, thrust into the light. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, trying her hardest to ignore the aches in her body, growing stronger by the minute. A few tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes and drifted awkwardly down her cheeks, diverted by the smudges of ointment still coating her face.
"What happened when you broke the wards," she pleaded, not ready to confront her new affliction just yet.
She heard Harry shift in his chair, heard him running his hands through his hair like he did when he was anxious. "There isn't much to tell, really. It was- Sirius thought that Greyback might want to… that he'd wait for the full moon. We had hoped we would get there before it- before he-" His voice cracked with emotion again. "Bill, Sirius and I fought our way in. Greyback's dead." Harry seemed to be waiting for some kind of reaction from her. When she didn't say anything, he continued. "When we got you, Sirius brought us here. He wasn't thinking about- well, Remus was transformed, here- locked in the attic, and he'd taken his Wolfsbane but-"
"He smelled me," Hermione said, recalling the disjointed words from her drifting consciousness on the night of the attack. She turned her face and looked at Harry- he was nodding.
"Yeah. He could smell the- well, his wolf could sense yours, I guess. That and all the blood. It was… we were really afraid, Hermione. We didn't think you'd make it."
She forced a watery smile. "Well, I made it," she said. "Thank you for… for coming back."
Harry ran both hands through his hair yet again, forcing it all up in different directions. Hermione's smile turned a touch more genuine at the sight.
"Now that you're awake you'll heal a bit better," Harry said. "Since you can take more potions now. Eat, too. You had a broken wrist, and three cracked ribs. Fleur was here, that first night. She's a wonder with healing spells. She fixed the bones for you, and some of the cuts. She couldn't- the knife wounds were-" He trailed off, frowning, and she followed his gaze down to her forearm. Mudblood. "They healed, but the scars…"
"It's alright. I am a Mudblood." Harry narrowed his eyes and she cut him off before he could argue. "No, I am. I'm a Mudblood, and I'm proud of it. 'Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armour yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you,'" she quoted, watching as he shifted uncomfortably.
"The bites, too. Those wounds are cursed. They're taking a long time to heal, and you'll have scars… I'm so sorry…"
Hermione held up her hand in front of her, studying the twisted red gashes along her inner arm, just below the knife wounds.
"It doesn't really matter, does it," she said. "The scars, I mean. I'm a Mudblood. I've got the scars to prove it. I'm a werewolf, now, too."
Harry clenched his jaw, and she twisted her lips in a ghost of a smile. "'Never forget what you are,'" she said again.
NOTE: Hermione quotes Tyrion Lannister from A Game of Thrones. I had this Remione idea and I've been writing nonstop for like 3 weeks now. Would love for you guys to review and let me know what you think! Thanks so much for reading :)
