Disclaimer
This is JK Rowling's territory. I'd be flattered if you thought I owned Harry Potter, but quite frankly, this is just a homage.
Cue 'We're not worthy!', Wayne's World style. (don't own that either)
Authors Note
G'Day, readers!
I won't detain you for long, I promise... just a quick note:
I'm Aussie, be kind to me! Although I've tried my best to avoid it, I'm not responsible for: irregular full moon appearances, non-canon werewolf behaviour, strange times for sunrise and sunset, English school term times. Basically, bad lunar and solar calendar is almost guaranteed. I guess it's my fault for choosing a subject matter with a strict timetable. Please R/R if you notice any inconsistencies!
Without any further ado, here it is...
Friday, October 13th
"Revokva!"
Hermione ducked yet another curse, silently praising the Defence training that had honed her reflexes. The world was coming to her in patches of overwhelming darkness and blinding streaks of rainbow light, as the Death Eaters advanced slowly but surely towards Hogwarts. They were putting up a brave fight, Hermione knew; but until the Aurors made it to the battle, they may be overwhelmed...
She tore her mind away from their impending doom and dived behind a handy piece of rubble for cover, blasting a few Death Eaters with Immobility curses before reassessing the situation. As far as she could tell, there were no fatalities- yet.
All she could do was continue fighting, and continue hoping...
Where were they?
**
**
"Mobilicorpus," Snape snapped wearily, the spell hollow sounding behind his white mask. He carried the prone wolf form to the cages he had conjured moments before, made of sturdy solid silver bars. The few other werewolves inside growled at his approach, a sound that would terrify most hardened men.
"Do shut up," Was the only response they got from the pale man as he opened the cage and roughly deposited their last brother with a flick of his wand. They continued to howl.
He remembered with a jolt that the fight was continuing behind him beyond the trees of the Forbidden Forest, and it was by no means a fair fight, even with the beasts restrained. He ran carefully over the treacherous ground in almost complete silence, looking to any observer like a seasoned hunter.
He was on the scent of his prey; the Death Eaters. He hoped beyond hope that he was not too late to join the melee, and was rewarded with the sweet sound of battle just ahead of him.
Someone had thought to cast a Helios Charm over the scene, which illuminated all the fighters but, more importantly, revealed previously hidden black cloaked Death Eaters that had used the night as their only cover. Snape reminded himself that he would have to look out for fire from all sides, just as he always had.
He had only immobilised a few of his enemies from behind (he was no coward; rather, he had a sound philosophy of using any means to achieve the right end) when he heard her piercing scream, and a savage growl that he knew all too well.
His heart leapt into his throat even as he sprung into action. Had he missed one from the pack? Had Fenrir Greyback 'recruited' more men that he had ever thought possible? He leapt towards the sound, only pausing to avoid curses that rippled at his hair and clothes in near misses.
He ran flat out, but he was too late.
As if in slow motion, he watched as the girl was overwhelmed by the savage beast, her wand dropping to the grass beside her when the werewolf clenched his jaw around her shoulder. Snape yelled the Killing Curse, carefully aiming at the torso of the animal where the girl could not get in the way. It collapsed on top of her just as Snape reached them. From this distance, he could now identify the student.
Granger.
He cursed all gods of fate; the most promising student of his entire career, brought down by an infection that would most likely destroy any hope being accepted into Wizarding society's academic circles. Add being born a Muggleborn on top of that. Oh, and add the feminine prejudice.
Cruel, cruel fate. It was the nature of war to strike down the innocent along with the guilty, but it always tore at him that yet another life had been lost on his watch. Another family fallen apart, another child left to mature far too early.
He removed the werewolf's head from her shoulder by prising open its jaws, and tried to clean the wound. But he knew the damage had already been done. He quickly dragged her behind a nearby greenhouse, trying to ignore her weak protests and jerks.
She tried to stir, whimpering at the pain. He gently held her down, pulling out a Potion from his coat. "Drink this." He croaked, his voice only just carrying over the sounds of battle. "It'll help the pain."
She opened her eyes, stared at him...
...and screamed louder than a Mandrake on a bad day.
He realised belatedly that he was still wearing his white mask. Dammit. He held a hand over her mouth and pulled off the mask in one swift movement. "Stop that infernal noise at once, Granger! Do you want the wrong people to come running?"
She was still trying to squirm away, but at least she wasn't yelling at him. He carefully removed his hand, and she eyed him reproachfully. "You could have done that a little earlier." She said acidly.
"It wasn't the first thing on my mind." He snapped back before remembering the Potion. "Drink." He insisted.
She did so with only a second of hesitation, a decision that prompted Snape to reflect on how trusting of him she appeared to be. In some cases, it would be considered misplaced trust.
"I would usually check the contents of the vial, Professor, but unfortunately I lost my wand." She answered his thoughts with a curt statement.
He quickly Accio'ed her wand, and she fingered it absently as she collected her thoughts. "Let's go." She said determinedly, struggling to raise herself. Snape pushed her back down. "Are you insane? You can't fight with that injury!"
She cocked her head to stare at him, her eyes suddenly like flint. "Watch me." She snapped her Professor, the habitual hate of every Hogwarts student kicking in where she had previously been compliant. She shoved him away with considerable strength and crept to the corner of the greenhouse, appraising the situation around the corner with one glance.
"Oh." She whispered, her eyes going wider than Snape had thought possible.
"What do you mean, girl? Please speak with some coherence."
"I mean, Professor, Oh, Harry just defeated Voldemort. Is that clear enough for you?" She turned to him, eyes glistening in relief and many mixed emotions.
Snape stood like a statue before ripping his sleeve up with desperate urgency. The Dark Mark was gone. "Oh," was all he could think to say.
Saturday October 14th
Hermione took a deep breath to collect herself outside the doors of the Great Hall. Having spent some time in one of the temporary Hospital Wings with Dumbledore and Lupin on the nature of her condition, this was the first time she was to face her friends since the battle. They were all celebrating, of course; it wasn't every day that Harry was a hero on this scale, even though it had occurred several times in the past. Hermione hoped that she wouldn't be the centre of anyone's attention that night.
Deciding that it was now or never, she walked into the golden hall towards the Gryffindor table. A cheer went up as she reached her seat, a few nearby people patting her on the back while being careful to avoid the bandaged shoulder and the sling. She blushed furiously at the attention, unsure if she was worthy of any of it.
"Hermione! We're so glad the Healers let you out for the Feast... come on, have some!" Ron pushed some food towards her that turned her stomach.
"No thanks, Ron. I'm not..." But he had already turned to another conversation, retelling his version of the events of the Final Battle to several adoring Gryffindor girls. Embellished, of course. If you actually threw that many spells, Ronald Weasley, you would not be conscious right now. Hermione thought scathingly, but she really knew the source of her irritation; she had missed the crucial part of the battle. The one that they would be talking about for the next hundred years and beyond.
Instead of seeing the defeat of the 'Darkest Wizard of their time' by the 'Luckiest Wizard of their time', Hermione had been behind Greenhouse Four with her loathed Potions Professor. It hadn't exactly been her day of glory.
Oh, and she was a werewolf.
That was a definite downer.
Sunday October 15th to Friday November 10th
For the first week of the return to classes, Hermione pretended that she was completely normal. Her panic grew as she saw the moon slowly grow every night from the window of her Head Girl room, and sometimes had nightmares that the moon was already full and she had attacked her friends. She had cried a few times; thinking of her future, now dimmed by this twist of fate.
She felt completely alone; she hadn't told Harry of Ron what had happened to her, only that she was hit by a Dark Curse that would make her a bit sick occasionally. If these 'occasions' happened to fall on the full moon, wow, what a coincidence!
She knew the facade wouldn't last long. Well, she hoped- it was entirely possible that the boys were as dense as she supposed, in which case, her secret would never be discovered.
She took up talking to Lupin long after class, always starting on some innocent topic and usually ending with some wise, confidential advice- from one werewolf to another- about how to live the secret life.
She secretly hated how Lupin tried to comfort her; why was he downplaying the horrible condition? They needed to be realistic, for Merlin's sake. She had her whole life ahead of her- a severely restricted life, as she understood it.
She had no illusions about what prejudice she would face as a werewolf, Muggleborn, female in a predominately human, Wizarding, male world. She shied away from the thought that all her brains would count for absolutely nothing; all her work would come to nothing as she tried to escape the stereotype of Pureblood supremacy, only to discover that nothing about her was good enough anymore.
She threw herself into her studies, and practically lived in the Library at all hours of the day.
It was on one such frenzied and lonely study session on the weekend that she overheard Madame Pince complaining to her faithful house elf and generally subservient servant, Twinky. "All five volumes, plus eight others on the ridiculous subject! That's thirteen books in one transaction! Even Professor Snape should know better than that, but I couldn't dissuade him; why he needed thirteen books on werewolves I will never know..."
Hermione broke her quill with her tense fingers, splattering ink over her parchment which she quickly vanished before it dried. Her hands were trembling suddenly. Snape was reading up on werewolves? Why the sudden interest? There was only one logical answer in her mind; it had something to do with her. She suddenly couldn't concentrate on her work; reasoning to herself that the essay was actually due in a week anyway, she left the Library in a daze.
When she arrived at her room, there was a school owl on her windowsill. It stared at her with its globelike eyes as she ran over and unlatched the window, retrieved the letter carefully from its sharp beak, and read;
Miss Granger,
The Potion must be taken every 7 days up to, and including, the night of the transformation. Professor Lupin has your three doses; one for today and one for every week before the full moon.
Please follow these instructions carefully.
Professor Snape.
She realised that he had to be brewing a double batch now; with two werewolves in residence, large amounts would be needed. She noted that he never explicitly stated the name of the potion, though she didn't know why that fact intrigued her.
She decided to visit his office before dinner, entering and being seated comfortably by the greying man with a warm smile and steady hand.
"I'm assuming you're looking for your Wolfsbane Potion?" He asked gently.
"Yeah." It's fairly obvious.
He quickly retrieved it from a cupboard, pouring half and half into two battered goblets. They smoked faintly, and even that vapour smelt foul. Hermione picked hers up gingerly. "Does it matter when in the day we take it?"
"I usually take it before dinner, but I've been told that it doesn't really matter." He grimaced. "You don't ever get used to the taste; bottoms up, I suppose, and try to keep your choking to a minimum." He downed his in one gulp, trying to hide his disgusted expression.
Hermione followed suit, gagging on the initial taste that met her tongue; but she followed his example and allowed the whole potion to slide down in one motion before coughing and spluttering uncontrollably. "That was perhaps the worst thing I have ever ingested." She groaned. "Let's go to dinner."
"Certainly." He chuckled, holding out a gentlemanly arm for her to clutch on.
**
**
Snape watched the girl secretly from his place on the High Table, noting the slight expression of concealed disgust, as well as the gusto in which she drank her pumpkin juice. It was obvious, then, that she had taken the Potion. He relaxed slightly.
He wasn't sure at first why he had been so concerned over her well being; after the Battle, she had said sincere thanks before running after her weary classmates and celebrating the victory wholeheartedly. But he was sure that the bite wasn't far from her mind, even as he saw her laugh and sing in jubilation; how could one simply forget the life changing experience? Unless she was instead choosing not to dwell on it. Repression was sometime the best course to take.
He saw her withdraw, to the ignorance of her friends; he was an expert at reading people, and so although it seemed that she was recovered, there was something false about her interactions with her Gryffindor housemates.
He tried carefully to avoid deep thought on his motives; he had hardly anything to drive him now. There was no megalomaniacal snake-man standing over him with impossible orders; no Death Eaters to negotiate with; no reports to make to Dumbledore, and no spy activities to perform.
He would actually have to concentrate completely on classes.
The boredom was sure to get to him eventually. He needed a hobby.
And, for now, Hermione Granger was it.
**
**
Hermione took to walking around the grounds, sometimes alone, sometimes with Lupin. He would always come down and join her if she walked past the window of his third floor office; they didn't always talk, but he would often entertain her with talk of the old days of the Marauders. Hermione was in stitches over these reminiscences, but she occasionally felt a stab of guilt- Harry should be the one hearing these tales.
But he was preoccupied- it was amazing how much time it could take up- with Ginny Weasley. Hermione was happy for them, of course; she had been encouraging it since their second year. But between Ron/ Lavender and Harry/ Ginny, she was often left out. Not that she wanted to join their double dates or anything, but she was beginning to feel like a fifth wheel.
She began to relish the sunlight hours; when the rays of sun were warm upon her skin, and she couldn't see the moon for the blue dome stretched out above her.
Sunset was a time for pensive thought before the nightmare hours.
She counted down the days with a sense of panic; they weren't sure what effect the Wolfsbane would have on someone going through their first transformation, or if it would help at all. All she could do was wait...
The night before the full moon was a Friday. She had a free hour at the end of the day, spent with the other Gryffindors relaxing in the Common Room. She was sure that Professor Lupin was probably waiting for her to walk by his window so he could give her a pep talk of some sort, but she wasn't in the mood for his constantly sunny disposition. Her last night before the transformation was characterised by sleeplessness and worry. The faint pink scar on her shoulder was burning slightly and it hurt to touch.
Saturday November 11th (full moon)
Saturday dawned early, seeming to know when it was most unwelcome.
She was greeted by Lupin after breakfast; he was obviously hoping to intercept her in the Entrance Hall. "We need to talk procedure." He said pointedly. Hermione excused herself from her friends, and followed him to Dumbledore's office.
Hermione was surprised to see that the Headmaster was not alone; once she knew he had a guest, it wasn't such a surprise that it would be her Potions Master.
"Miss Granger." He said smoothly from his position in the chair by the fireplace.
She nodded slightly. "Professor." She replied, wishing her voice was steadier.
She sat slowly, Lupin bringing over another chair and sitting close to her.
"Lemon Drop?" The Headmaster asked innocently. Hermione refused as politely as she could, remembering one time when she had accepted and forgotten about it in a pocket; a Revealing Charm and a severe shock later found that it was laced with a primitive and barely legal Veritserum-like Potion, most likely intended to encourage truthfulness from troublesome students that couldn't refuse candy. She pulled her mind out to focus on the Headmaster's words.
"Miss Granger, we are here to assure you that every possible precaution will be taken to ensure your safety, and that of your colleagues. We cannot, unfortunately, make use of the Shrieking Shack because of its advanced state of decay and long abandonment; however, an adequate replacement has been found." His blue eyes flickered over to the dark haired man, who sat up ramrod straight and looked Hermione in the eye. "Because of the uncertain nature of your first transformation, I have created a cell in the lowest dungeons that is strong enough for our purposes."
Dumbledore put in, "Severus has volunteered to watch over you for the duration of your confinement, and also discourage others from interfering, which is highly unlikely in any case."
Hermione considered this. "That sounds ideal," she agreed. Except for the fact that her antagonistic Potions Master was going to be there. "Do we have a cover story for my absence?"
Dumbledore seemed pleased that she was level headed about the situation. "If all goes well, and you retain your consciousness completely, you should be able to join the students at your normal breakfast time. A little longer, and you could blame it on a sleep in. However, if more time is needed..." Hermione tried not to imagine under what circumstances that would be, "I believe wild Saturday nights are not uncommon among the Gryffindor mob, am I correct?"
Hermione laughed. "Unfortunately, you are not mistaken- but I have never partaken in the... revelry. It would be out of character as a reason for my absence."
She thought she heard Snape snort at that, and she snapped her head around to look at him. He merely slowly raised one eyebrow, so gradually that she wondered how often he would have to practice the expression...
"But of course, Miss Granger." The Headmaster twinkled, returning her attention to him. "Would an extra credit Transfiguration lesson gone horribly wrong, resulting in a trip to the Hospital Wing, be a sufficient cover?"
"Perfect. If McGonagall is willing." She amended.
"I'll tell her, Albus." Lupin put in quickly. "There will be no need to tell her why; she trusts our, and Hermione's, judgement."
"Wouldn't she notice the full moon?" Hermione said sceptically.
Lupin chuckled. "I was on the staff for three moons before she clicked. Believe me, the one time you need this won't make an impact."
"Excellent. It's settled." Dumbledore said happily. "Severus will escort you from your Head Girl rooms to the dungeon cell before sunset; it looks to be a clear night."
Hermione glanced again at her Potions Professor; he was pointedly looking away and at Fawkes, who was preening himself fussily. Hermione wondered what he was thinking...
"Come on, Hermione." Lupin said gently. "Let's get you back to your friends."
Hermione didn't see the contemplative look that crossed Dumbledore's face as they left.
**
**
Hermione hadn't eaten; she wasn't hungry, but she thought it a good idea that she didn't have anything to bring up. Just in case.
She heard the knock on the door, and answered it almost in a dream state. Snape was standing stiffly at her door.
"Come." That was all he said before swooping down the hall in a streak of black. Slightly injured, Hermione followed him through the labyrinth that was Hogwarts. They descended quickly, breath eventually misting as they went below ground. He stopped so suddenly that she almost ran into him, and had to stumble backwards quickly to avoid the awkwardly close distance.
She looked around; not seeing a door, she glanced at Snape's face. He was staring intently at her; as soon as he caught her eye he said, "You must go through the stone here... a door inevitably has weak spots for... you... to target." He tapped one stone of the wall, and it glowed a sickly green in the near darkness. Hermione could see through it into a small room, devoid of furniture, cold and bleak. She swallowed convulsively.
"Here." He shoved a flask at her. "Your last dose." Hermione was proud to see that her hand wasn't trembling as she took the potion. She hardly even made a face at the disgusting contents, which Snape nodded approvingly at (well, she thought that was why he nodded; he wasn't even looking in her direction, but what else was there to nod at?).
"And now we wait." He murmured. Hermione was suddenly reminded of their third year, with the Time Turner incident; she had said the exact same thing to Harry just before they met Lupin as a werewolf, and before...
She suddenly felt a clenching in her stomach, like it had gone rock hard. She gasped and leaned on the wall, sweat covering her brow in a fine sheen. It was starting...
"Quickly, get inside. I'll be watching." Snape shoved her through the glowing stone without mercy, only grabbing her for a moment before quickly letting go, as if she would infect him with a single touch. It felt cold as she went through the translucent wall, but once she was inside, she couldn't even tell where the entrance was.
I'll be watching? Was that meant to be comforting in some way? She knew that he was not one for heartfelt speeches, but even that small statement hadn't calmed her to any degree.
She was alone. She was afraid.
But she was prepared for the worst.
**
**
Snape muttered another quick spell at a crumbling stone at eye level; it was a one-way spying spell, so he could check on Granger's progress without her knowledge. Her face was pale, but determined, and he felt a stab of something like pity as she doubled over, clutching at her abdomen.
He watched, his thoughts turning to horror and disgust, as she slowly transformed- sometimes all at once in places, sometimes one bone at a time- until she was a whimpering pile of fur on the floor. Her clothes were in shreds around her, and he had politely looked away at relevant points in the procedure.
From his observations, she seemed to be coping rather well. There was some pacing, sniffing, and the occasional whimpering or half hearted howling, but she was by no means the fully-fledged werewolf in terms of mind.
Granger was still in control of her best attribute; her brain. What happened to her body was irrelevant.
His thoughts chased each other round as he watched through the long night-time vigil, sometimes intensely logical, and sometimes so insane that he physically shook himself to divert his train of thought. Inevitably, his thoughts always returned to the suffering student before his eyes.
By his extremely accurate body clock, it was around five in the morning when the wolf suddenly stilled in its pacing and sniffed at the air. It started shaking, convulsing almost... Snape was certain that the girl would be returning soon.
It was just as painful to watch as before; this time, the human slowly triumphed over the wolf, and Granger could hardly contain her cries of pain as her bones rearranged themselves and her entire being went through metamorphosis. Finally, all that was left was a shivering girl, her skin pale in the half light of the dungeon and her hair in more disarray than normal.
Snape felt only a slight discomfort that she was naked; he was by no means lustful at this point, after such a long and relatively traumatic night. He muttered the same spell that had allowed Hermione access and threw in a blanket he had thought to bring. She recovered and blushed furiously at her state of undress, and quickly tucked the blanket around her slender form.
Snape heard footsteps in the hallway, tearing his attention away from the girl. "Who's there?" He snapped.
"Relax, Severus, it's just me." Dumbledore's soothing tone floated down the hall. Snape relaxed slightly, still on edge after many years of self-imposed paranoia.
"How is our patient doing?" He asked gently.
"She seemed to retain her mental faculties while in the werewolf form. It was, of course, still a painful morphing stage at either end, but she seemed to handle it well."
"Excellent! May we talk to her now? It's incredibly rude to talk of issues that concern people in the next room."
Snape rolled his eyes before allowing the Headmaster and himself access to the room. He allowed Albus to go in first as a comforter, following as a reality check.
Surprisingly, Granger didn't need much comfort. She asked idly if someone could get some clothes, and asked Snape what she had looked like to him in the werewolf state. He answered as candidly as possible, and she seemed calm at his explanation. The only time she showed emotion was when Dumbledore asked her if she wanted to stay down here for her transformations in the future, or if she was happy to do so in her own rooms. She decided to think about it.
Dumbledore insisted on taking her to his office for a quick check up from his Healer friend, which would mean missing breakfast. Hermione was willing enough- as soon as she had her clothes, she pointed out. She summoned her House Elf to retrieve them, and the two men retreated outside while she changed.
"She seemed to handle it remarkably well." Snape admitted.
"Possibly a little too well, Severus... keep an eye on her, will you? Sooner or later it'll come back to bite her- no pun intended. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have not missed a single breakfast in twelve years- I'm not about the start now." He left whistling tunelessly.
Snape shook his head at the eccentricities of the Headmaster before opening the cell entrance, Hermione charging out as soon as the way was clear. Snape assumed that she had felt it extremely claustrophobic after the long night.
"Thanks for staying." She said suddenly, looking directly at him. "It helped, knowing someone was there."
He nodded. "It was necessary... but you're more than welcome." His polite upbringing forced him to say, when all he wanted to do was shrug it off.
He took his leave quickly, his mind turning to the pile of marking set aside for the day.
**
**
Hermione watched him leave, the only person who had shared her terrible night, and wouldn't look at her differently than before. It wasn't that she didn't have faith in Harry and Ron; she knew that they wouldn't mind, particularly, but it would always be on their minds. She would no longer be 'Hermione the bookworm and know-it-all'; she would become 'Hermione the intelligent werewolf'. She didn't want that label.
Lupin understood all too well what it meant to have that forced upon him, and she didn't want to go through that.
Some would call it denial, a cynical voice said, but she shoved it back.
Some things could wait.
She walked the rest of the way to the Headmaster's office after leaving Snape, shyly introducing herself to the retired Healer. Healer Crocco was a short, plump witch with a quick wit and steady paper skinned hands. Hermione liked her on sight, and the examination took very little time to complete.
She could hear people going through the corridors after breakfast; she excused herself from Healer Crocco and walked the short way to her chambers. She quickly freshened up and joined the other for a walk around the lake, expecting Lupin to intercept her on the way.
He is going to be insufferable...
