Just one of the many ideas for Dramione floating in my head, finally I finished the first chapter. Tell if you think I should continue it. Or if you wouldn't mind helping me. Thanks.
Summary: The lure of the moon calls to me, telling me its secrets. Raised by werewolves since she was three, Hermione Granger isn't really who you think she is. As the Dark Lord closes in, secrets get let out. Suddenly werewolves aren't the least of her worries anymore. Fenrir Greyback has quite lot of explaining to do. Draco himself faces the consequences of following his own dark path. Should he follow the family path and be known from then on of a family of cowards? Surely Malfoy's shouldn't sink to this level of humiliation. But then he learns of one girl's dark secrets which leads him into finding his family's own darker secret. The light of the moon shows the way.
Enjoy. ~aprettyfacevampire
Chapter 1
Secrets of the Night
~The moonlight holds secrets; some are more powerful than others. ~
The three year old girl held tightly to the dead bodies of her newly deceased parents. She clutched at her mother's chest crying for 'mommy to wake up'. What she quite didn't understand was that her parents were dead, struck by a drunk driver on their way home from their short walk into town for the local ice cream parlour. Yet miraculously the drunk driver somehow kept on going not noticing the little girl with a fuzzy head of chocolate colored curls holding her bleeding hand on her mother's broken body. When nothing worked, the girl crawled to her daddy, whose body looked the worse of the two. She cried, she hit, and she smacked and cried once more. Neither mommy nor daddy woke up.
The young girl was along in the woods at nine at night in the middle of the summer. The sky was pitch black, the moon round and full.
A sign of werewolves a loose at night looking for a delicious morsel of fresh skin to eat.
But the moon held more secrets then anyone would ever know…
The bodies were deteriorating quickly; animals' miles apart could sense the smell of rotting flesh and organs.
Just perfect for wolves.
But the little girl with curly brown hair and equally brown eyes wasn't truly alone that night.
What would seem like quite a terrifying experience to any human adult made the young child giggle as she noticed a fierce black wolf only six feet away from her. Its' eyes were a human-like green color, almost as if the wolf had human intelligence and feelings.
Coming closer to the child the wolf closely inspected the scene before him. The toddler's parents lay dead; he would have to work fast if he wanted his ultimate plan of action to work.
For the moment he nudged the depressed child with his cold soft nose, making the little girl sniffle at the sight of a big wild dog in front of her.
Fear was then replaced with amusement as she saw some sort of feeling in the wolf's emerald eyes.
"Wolfie." The child cooed, quite intelligent beyond her years already and patting the wolf's downy-soft ears.
The wolf huffed in response as if say that he was no puppy to play with.
"Smile." The little girl giggled and pulled on the fur of the wolf's chest making him wince a bit. Just as always the little girl could read his mind. She truly was in her own ways a mistress of the night, just like her mother.
Huffing again the wolf gently picked the toddler up with his teeth, holding her by the back of the collar of her t-shirt, just as a mother wolf would carry her young.
He had to get going and bring her back to the pack; it wasn't safe for her to live in hiding anymore. Tomorrow she would live a new life, one that muggles merely thought as fantasy.
The young girl would grow in time to live with the ways of the wolf.
The wolf holding her was none other than grand-alpha himself, Fenrir Greyback, one of the followers of Lord Voldemort or so they all thought.
Thus our story began…
~O~w~O~
Being raised by dogs isn't necessarily a compliment but being raised by wolves isn't really something to brag about either. I was unfortunately given the latter of the two options.
But instead of wolves, I was raised by werewolves. No it was nothing like the movie kind; it was quite different from oh-so-popular Twilight style too. Even the bright and scary Hollywood versions were no match for these ferocious yet lovingly overprotective dogs-werewolves.
These wolves could transform into their humans in a blink of their eye, except for the fact of the cursed full moon which only made them edgier than normal. The wolves could transform anytime they wanted/needed to, the moon only increased their powers which made them harder to control. The moon's power increased their senses, heightened their abilities both physically, mentally and even magically.
I had joined the "pack" since of the young tender age of three, my parents were killed by a drunk driver and for some asinine reason Fenrir Greyback took me in.
He took me into a family of male wolves, with me being the youngest of the bunch. I still can't comprehend why a leader of a wolf pack would take in a normal human such as me. But then again I was not a normal human being after all.
I am very thankful to this werewolf; he practically took me in as a child and raised me almost as his own. I didn't really consider him as a father, more of an overprotective werewolf-brother who wasn't afraid of punishing me when I stepped out of line. (Which I did once in a while, it was only in dire need.)
By the age of four I could read the few books the pack had, Grey (what I referred to him) was surprisingly a good teacher. He even taught me how to write, by the end of the year I wrote my own version of a book just for him, drawings included.
It was by the age of five I could proudly tell the difference between the different types of game animals be it bird or otherwise.
By the age of seven I could name every forest herb and plant and know which ones were beneficial and which ones weren't.
When I was eight I had this ability to know what animals were thinking, and sometimes if I was lucky even control them, not that I told Grey that.
At the age of nine I knew the difference of between good and bad magic, Grey had taught many things. By the age of ten I was sent to live with a blood-brother of his, for at the tender age I was consider an unmated adult female. Grey's blood –brother was married yet had no children to claim their own.
Their name: Granger. They were muggles and to the outside world I was seen as their child. For the two of them, they were pretty well off both were dentists in a respected part of town, and made quite a decent amount of money.
Then I was accepted into Hogwarts. Grey was never so proud, except for the one time I took down a bear by myself (the other wolves around my age found it first though). But Grey was never so protective either, he wouldn't leave my side for days if he did he would have his Betas come in.
But I did have my own ways of getting around them. One thing I was known for was my sly cunning and intelligence which could just beat Grey's any day. (How else could I get into town and get my precious books and paper for reading and writing?)
The next few years I would only see my father-like figure during the summer months. The Granger's always wrote to me and it felt nice to have a female friend in Ian Granger's wife/mate Melody. In some ways she was like the only mom I ever knew.
Everything changed the year when I returned from sixth year. Maybe it was due to the polyjuice potion I made, but for some reason my senses seemed to be heightened more than usual. I could taste the chocolate notes of the air, smell the rich earthiness of the forest dwelling hear the younger pups (though they were still a few years older than me) fighting playfully.
Sure the Granger's would pick me up from King's Cross; I spend a normal week with them. They even let me design my own bedroom at their house, but this was beside the point. After a semi-decent week of getting reintroduced to sleeping in a comfy bed again for twelve hours, I finally got see Grey again.
The pack lived a good two hours' drive into the woods, but then on feet one would have to hike another hour until they would meet the barriers of the encampment.
Normally Darius or Leighton (the younger of the pups, as Grey would refer to them as, they just happened to be some of my very best werewolf friends-BWF for short) would come out and meet me at the barriers and barrel me down after my absence as a joke, Grey didn't like it when the others would hurt me be it purposely or playfully. But this time no one was there, not even Runt. (I am guessing you understand why his name is that.)
I could almost sense something foreboding and ominous in the air.
Instead of the normal noisy yipping, fighting, bantering screeches of the hyper werewolves, I was instead greeted by utter silence. Something that rarely ever happened.
Placing my hand out, I watched with keen interest as the magic of the shield trace the lines of my palms making twisted designs and eventually open up to let me in.
Usually I would walk down the dirt trail until I came upon the small huts that were houses; I could almost see the castle that was my home for the last thirteen years. (No, it wasn't Hogwarts.) It was Castle Greymoon; it once was owned by human royalty but was abandoned during Europe's Dark ages. Other wizards held the keep from then on, but a peace treaty somehow was broken and werewolves raided in revenge. From then on the castle belonged to those of the Greyback family.
The sky seemed to be foreboding and darkness filled that air, any second I would expect a downpour not that I minded the rain, but I was sure that Crookshanks would.
I could almost hear his thoughts as if he was saying that being claustrophobic and wet wasn't enough at the moment. Slipping in a cat treat, I kept moving forward hoping to the find the century old Mother Tree that seemed to have a life of its own.
The Mother Tree was an ancient tree that was in the forest, it limbs outstretched anything I've ever seen. It was once speculated or written down that the Mother Tree help gave birth to all land creatures. She would provide for them, feed them, cloak them, and protect them. The Mother Tree was essentially an all-giving tree; all she wanted in return was love. So with great care for many of generations' wizard and creature kind took care of the Mother Tree.
The death of the Mother Tree meant something horrible would happen, and would mostly likely be followed by war. This time we were so lucky.
Reaching the Mother Tree within minutes, I was just lucky enough to miss the raindrops from pouring all around. The next second the branches shook, with a sudden powerful gust of wind.
What was happening?
Crookshanks hissed, surprising me. I stuck my head out from under the tall roots that made up the inside shelter. Something was coming.
It was coming to fast to be human, I was sure it was wolf. Quickly I felt my throat for my small silver necklace. Silver would only stun werewolves for a few seconds, the bigger they were the longer one had to have contact with the metal. The necklace Grey gave me held a dark onyx on the end that contained wolfsbane in the center with the edges of the jewel encrusted with strong pieces of the silver metal. The edges were diamond shape and with the right amount of speed could have been used as a knife. The jewel itself was enchanted with many spells and charms, Grey said the necklace dated back to the time of the great wizard Merlin even.
Grasping the jewel tightly in my hand I prepared for a sudden intrusion.
The sound of heavy paws thudding on the ground grew closer; I could hear the heavy labored breath of a dog as it approached the Mother Tree. There was no doubt in my mind that it could easily smell me nearby.
Backing my body into the cleaned out, worn down hollow entryway of the tree I braced to strike, my wand tingled in my hand.
A twig snapped in front of the tree, it was closer than I thought.
I poised ready attack when a big human hand caught my wrist as I was going to strike. Instinctively I tried to fight against the restraints. But as the fingers caressed my wrist lightly, I relaxed and felt a big warm body hold mine from behind.
Only one person would caress me like that.
Grey.
Sinking into his comforting warmth, I deeply breathed in his woodsy-scent. Pine, sandalwood, dirt, sweat and a bit of wet dog seemed to cover him. It was one of the familiar scents of childhood that I would remember always.
Turning around slowly I noticed he had his shirt off. (How the wolves went back and forth clothed and unclothed, I still don't understand.) On his chest was a recent scar that had by the looks of it just scabbed over. Cuts and bruises covered his arms and other various parts of his chest.
Finally after tracing each little cut, I looked up into his face. I saw his way dark black as sin hair, emerald green eyes, and his mouth that would once in a while twist into a smirk or a smile.
Normally at this time of year he would tackle me covetously and not let me go for days. His eyes would always lighten up in my presence and he would always seem to become alive. Many of the wolves in the pack told me that the best time of year would be when I returned from school and the worst would be when I left a week early to prepare. Apparently Grey would take out my absence on the pack.
But instead of the overly happy wolf, I faced a depressing, angry broken-down looking man. His face was dull, his eyes betrayed him yet he held me so tenderly like I was made of glass. I could almost feel the anger emanating off of him.
He was never this way towards me. He may have gotten furious over something I did/didn't do, or even overprotective when Darius or Leighton played too rough with me. But he would never look at me like he did not.
It was almost as if sinister and sadness combined together in him.
"Grey," I reached up to caress his black and blue face. "what's going on? Darius and Leighton didn't meet me at the edge of the barrier." As I spoke I felt Grey lean into my palm lovingly. Sometime I swore he was a big teddy bear on the inside.
"He came." Grey gravely whispered, I could feel his body quaking as he held me to his heart.
"Who?" I asked, already sensing the dreaded answer.
"Him." I looked down at his arm; there on his on the inside lay the unforgiving mark of the Dark Lord. It looked to be bleeding still.
I had to keep telling myself that the mark really wasn't there. It couldn't be there, Grey would never do that to me. He knew of my relationship with Harry. How could he?
He stiffened when he saw the betrayal in my eyes.
"W-what does he want?" I couldn't hear my voice as it squeaked.
"You." Grey answered solemnly.
"Me?" I couldn't help but dryly gasp.
"He wants me to kill you or kidnap you, it's one or the other." Grey admitted bluntly, his nails dug into my back lightly.
"No," I whimpered and the world went black.
~O~w~O~
I watched with keen interest as father literally broke down. But one should never see the head of the house of Malfoy ever fall apart at the seams.
My father, Deatheather Lucius Malfoy broke down. Something that was even rarer than seeing a unicorn preform its' ancient magic in the wild.
My mother rushed to his side, cooing and caressing him with her soft sweet voice. She immediately took a personalized handkerchief from her the pocket of her robes to dab on the blood that leaked onto the tiled floor of the main foyer of our manor.
"Aunt" Bellatrix was luckily nowhere to be seen, she must have gone off to see 'her' Lord, the one she constantly fawned over and over upon. Who knows what would have happened if she was here?
It was my parents quiet, faint whispering that brought me out of my reverie, they had ignored my presence in the room long enough it was time that I leave.
I strode forward, moving to the staircase that would lead me to my secret oasis inside the death hole the manor had become. The library.
One would say that it was a Granger-like thing to enjoy a library but it was the only thing I had available to me.
Our family library had been in the Malfoy family ever since the beginning, there were even large scrolls located in a specific area in the back. Mother was recently working on a project that would keep them preserved even better.
I scanned the bookshelves for familiar titles. Pride and Prejudice, no thanks I had both but it was such a girly book. Mother made me read it last year for her monthly mother and son so-called book club. But at least I wasn't the only one. Mrs. Zabini, Mrs. Nott, Mrs. Pucey, Mrs. Flint, and even Mrs. Goyle had dragged their sons along too. (Not that we could complain with our mothers present.)
Continuing down the shelf I saw quite a few other muggle books that our 'book club' read before. Great Expectations, no thank you I already had enough pressure put onto to me right now. To Kill A Mockingbird, certainly not, the Dark Lord would rather have it reworded to be 'To Kill A Mudblood' instead. I walked back and forth between the aisles of bookcases, nothing seemed to entertain me. Not even the enchanted book about our family history to the days of long ago. Even the book that would pop out miniature dragons sounded dull.
Today none of the familiar gold-plated titles would bring me out of my recent depression. The Dark Lord was coming and the only option my family had of survival was to join at his side.
By the time that the new school year would begin again I would have a 'dark' painful tattoo on my left arm.
What the most of the wizarding world saw was a family intent on following the path of evil world domination. When in truth we were just trying to survive.
Father had predicted by the time I was born that it would be safer for us if we would stay on the side of Tom Riddle rather than set against him. Otherwise we could have ended up blown up into pieces like the Potter family. Our lives would remain intact if we acted in the Dark Lord's favor. Yet father had other ideas, not that I knew the whole time. Recently, I had heard him and mother speak about their true plans behind my back.
One of just many reasons I abhorred being an only child. But the perks outweighed the costs any day.
All these years I had thought that we Purebloods were superior that those of non-magical blood were meant to be dirt and scum beneath our feet. To only realize that they themselves could be our saviours, or worse even more become powerful than us.
I felt father's pain before hearing his voice shout from the parlour.
The Dark Lord was coming and soon.
Thanks for reading!
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