Beginning
Hermione Granger had spent the last thirteen hours, twenty-eight minutes wandering around in the forest trying to find somewhere to sleep for the night. She knew she was somewhere in the Forest of Dean where they had been camping, but beyond that, she could not recall anything that'd happened before she'd woken up and found the bloody masses that were once her parents. There had been strange cuts all over her body, and all of her muscles were sore, if that was possible. She only continued because she knew, despite being only four years old, that she would soon die if she didn't find food and shelter, and Hermione Granger was not going to die before she'd had the chance to change the world.
She refused.
Suddenly, her head snapped up from where she had been watching her step. She could hear someone coming.
That was something new.
Not possible, however, as one did not simply develop superhuman senses over the course of a day. No, something definitely did not add up, and she was intrigued.
Now she could smell the person. It had to be a man, as no self-respecting woman would ever let themselves stink that badly, especially not of blood—he smelled of blood! And something that she somehow knew meant danger.
This was not a man she wanted to meet, not under any circumstances.
She weighed her options and decided to climb the tree, thinking that it would be better to hide than to run. If this man had senses like she did, he already knew where she was and was coming for her. If not, she could always follow his scent and find shelter that way. Once she decided she was high enough, she slowed down her breathing like when she played hide-and-seek and made sure to keep very still.
The man—if you could call him that—came into view soon enough, slinking into the clearing she overlooked before. He stopped turning his monstrous head toward the sky, sniffing the air. The man was practically danger incarnate, from the horrid smell to the wicked claws to the pointed teeth, and reminded her more of a wolf than of a man, even more terrifying in the haunting moonlight. His hair was long and wild and he was covered in blood, the substance even running down his chin as if he'd spent the day feeding on human flesh…
Dear God. Could that be her parent's blood?
She almost gasped, but instead forced herself to calm down. Her parents had always told her that dogs could smell fear, and surely wolves weren't that different?
"I know you're there, girl, why don't you come out from wherever you are and we can have a nice, long chat?" The man growled in a low fierce rumble of a voice, his tone severely contradicting his words.
Hermione forced her breathing to remain the same and tried to commit the terrifying man's face to memory so that she could draw a decent picture for the police later. She would make it through this, if only to someday get revenge on this beast. She pictured a blank piece of paper in her mind and committed the man to mental paper, starting with his face, hair, arms, torso, as he slowly turned in circles, eyeing the bushes around him, looking for movement.
He was growling in the back of his throat, becoming frustrated, when out of nowhere, several more scents were introduced to the mix as a bunch of men appeared, surrounding the man, then, just as quickly, all of them yelled a funny word and long rays of red light flew from the sticks each of them held and hit the monstrous man!
He fell to the ground, still.
Dead?
The men waited a moment before one of them, a very intelligent looking man, stepped forward, slowly, and poked the beast.
It didn't move.
He felt it's pulse.
"He's dead." The man spoke solemnly.
"Sad, are you Lupin?"
"Only that I have to endure your presence, dear Snivilus."
"Quit flirting, you two." A large, dark-skinned man commanded. "Snape, you and Weasley look around and see if you can find any survivors. He was looking for someone, send a Patronus—"
"I'm up here!" Hermione called down, mouth acting before the rest of her brain could catch up.
The one who'd poked the monster (Lupin was it?) automatically looked up. She committed his face to memory, crossing out the monster's and drawing his on the other side. After all, there was no point in wasting paper, mental or otherwise.
She jumped from the tree, knowing instinctually that she would be able to land the fall, and carefully approached the monster on the ground. One of the men moved to stop her, but Lupin held up his hand, stopping the other in his tracks. She stared down at him and sniffed, looking for her mother's stronger scent.
She found it.
Hermione felt herself growling and furiously kicked him in the head.
"You," Kick, "Deserved," Kick, "Worse!"
Big kick. Then she spat on him and turned away from the monster, instead facing Mr. Lupin.
"Are you like me?" she asked bluntly, staring him down.
He didn't say anything, but now stood a meter or so away from her, not moving forward, but raising his chin slightly, holding her gaze. She eyed him carefully, sniffing the air as she did, separating his own sent from the rest.
Most prominently, he smelled like books, not unlike the old library around the corner from her house, mixed with the faint stink of fire and dog fur. In her mind, she acknowledged the scars on his face, his steady breathing and his own aura of danger, not the kind the beast possessed, but the type her father gave off when she told him about one of the neighbor's kids pulling her hair, or that one time when the burglar had tried to get into the house. Protectiveness, she decided it was. He was safe.
Almost as soon as she had come to this conclusion, she found herself lowering her chin, but still looking up at the man. He took a few steps forward and knelt in front of her opening his arms and pulling her close. She buried her face in his neck and wrapped her arms around his neck, taking several deep breaths to keep herself from crying.
"It's alright Cub, you're safe now." She felt him whisper into her hair, and she fell asleep.
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What the hell had he just done? Established some sort of dominance over a newly made werewolf cub in the middle of the forest after she'd watched him and a few others kill Fenrir Greyback—whom she'd just witnessed literally tear her family apart, if that reaction was anything to go by—had he just accidentally claimed her? Well, he couldn't exactly let her go now, could he? Crap! Was she going to cry now? How the hell was he supposed to deal with this? He quickly steadied his breathing, now knowing she would smell his fear if he let her.
Remus took a few long strides forward and fell to his knees, pulling her into a hug. He could feel her melt, hugging him back and trying desperately not to cry. Doing the first thing he could think of, he started whispering like James' mum used to when they had nightmares. "It's alright Cub, you're safe now."
Cub? Where in Merlin's name had that come from? Well, it kept her from collapsing to tears, so he couldn't really complain. He was about to let her go when he realized that she'd fallen asleep and instead picked her up.
The rest of his companions who had watched silently up to this point were now staring at him, wide eyed, jaws dropped. Dedalus Diggle of all people was the first to ask, in his usual unfiltered manner.
"Did you just adopt a werewolf?"
"I-I have absolutely no idea."
The group fell into silence once more, before Kingsley sighed. "Does anybody else feel like we just saved that man?"
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As soon the men arrived back at the burrow, Molly Weasley was all over them, hurling a barrage of questions, but was almost immediately silenced by the sight of the little girl Remus held. Small, sleeping, and she was covered in blood.
The mother in her immediately took over, having Remus lay her down on the couch and whipping out her wand. Now she ignored the men, healing the cuts and scrapes and fixing up the little girl's clothes. Only after she was satisfied that the girl was comfortable did she ask who the girl was.
Arthur, considering Lupin, who still hadn't taken his eyes off the girl, pulled Molly into the kitchen, explaining quickly, but in great detail what had happened in the exchange between him and the girl.
"So she's—"
"Yes."
"Is he keeping her?"
"I don't know. From the way he acts, it's almost as if he has no choice in the matter."
"Well, I certainly hope—" Molly was cut off by the arrival of the twins in the doorway, both looking wide awake and very curious.
"Mum, Dad?" Fred, or maybe George asked.
"What's going on?" the other finished.
"Nothing to worry about, dears…" But it was too late. The pair had ducked their parent's arms in a mad dash passed them and were already standing a few feet away from the couch, inspecting the girl. Remus was watching them warily, knowing what kind of trouble these two got up to, but keeping his distance unless they posed a threat.
"Aw! It's just a girl!"
"We thought it was going to be something cool—"
"Like a dragon!"
The adults in the room, just the Weasleys and Lupin at this point, tried to shush him, but it was too late. The girl woke with a growl, shutting them up in an instant. They all held their breath as she warily took in her surroundings, and seeing Remus, yipped, relaxed, yawned, and fell back to sleep.
The boys turned their attention to the now considerably more relaxed Remus and asked, "Did she just…"
"Bark?"
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By the time Hermione went to Hogwarts, she was known throughout the school as the girl who tamed the Weasley twins. Rumors spread by Charlie and Percy said that she was incredible—a model student, good girl on her way to being a model citizen. All of the professors eagerly awaited the start of the semester.
Well, all barring Snape, of course.
Professor Snape was one of the six people that were there that night she was found. A muggleborn witch-made-werewolf and raised by his own werewolf nemesis. On top of that, the famous son of the girl he loved and another of his old tormentors was enrolled as well. Could anyone blame him for not looking forward to this year?
He kept his usual straight face and rigid posture as he took his place at the staff table. Near immediately after, Minerva arrived, leading in the first-years to start the sorting. The hat sang it's song and they were off. He kept a watchful eye on Quirrel, and was hearing lots of familiar surnames this year, Bones, Crabbe, Goyle, Greengrass, Longbottom, and—
"Lupin, Hermione?"
Snape looked away from Quirrel to see the girl, after all, it had been seven years since he'd last seen her, all covered in blood.
She had definitely grown, now level with most other first years. The wild curls had grown out, and her eyes hadn't lost any of that fire. She had that same aura about her as her adopted father; dangerously intelligent, and intelligently dangerous. He wasn't sure if it was a trait she had always possessed or if it was something she picked up from the old wolf, but he could clearly see that it was going to be a pain.
Then he noticed that she was watching him. In that split second of eye contact, she raised her chin, just as Remus had done when they found her, simultaneously managing to convey both a challenge, and respect. He rose to it, lifting his own chin.
Of all possible responses, she winked.
What in Merlin's name…
Triumphantly she sat, the hat was place on her head and held his breath.
Gryffindor…Ravenclaw…Please don't say…
But it wasn't meant to be.
"SLYTHERIN!"
His head was in his hands as she sauntered over to his table. Snape could practically feel the shock rolling across the room, a chorus of WHAT came from all Weasleys, and the Slytherin house was silent.
Good God, this was going to be a nightmare.