Disclaimer: *Whistles same old tune*

Note: A bit of a delay. Apologies. My mojo kept getting destroyed, when people kept knocking on my door, wanting stuff. Guess it's a lot better than people not knocking on my door, wanting stuff. Confused? :)

Rated: M

2. Three years Later

The owl arrived in the middle of the night, like the quiet before a storm. Hermione hadn't been able to sleep that particular night, something to do with the weather, when a loud noise came from Harry's study.

"Shit!"

"Harry?" Her feet was quick against the carpet. Harry was lucky that they didn't live at the Burrow, where his outburst would've woken the entire household. Instead she was all he had to contend with, besides Kreacher, at Grimmauld Place. And Kreacher wouldn't dream of disturbing his master.

"Is everything all right?" She gave a courtesy knock, before entering and clocking Harry at his desk.

Harry looked the picture of devastation, cradling his messy, tepid hair into his arms and hiding his face.

Hermione crouched besides him, and put a hand on his back.

"What's wrong?" she urgently asked. "What's the matter?"

She noticed a brown piece of parchment curled inside his lax fingers. Without asking for permission, she pulled it out and scanned the news quickly. It wasn't good.

Harry, it's regrettable to inform you, but Narcissa's been found dead.
An even more bigger concern is her son.
Draco has been rushed to St. Mungo's, with a severe case of gangrene.
He's delirious. When he gets discharged, he needs to go somewhere safe.
Perhaps with you?

Once again, sorry to be the bearer of bad news.
- Kingsley

"This is terrible," Hermione shook her head.

"I owe it to her," Harry whispered. "Malfoy needs to come here."

Surprisingly, Hermione could understand his concern but knew she couldn't be around when it came to pass. Tomorrow, she would consider packing her bags and moving out. Where to? Ginny still had a spare bed in her room. She had only moved to Grimmauld Place, because the Burrow was getting seriously overcrowded anyway.

"Harry, that's great but I will need to go."

"Why?"

Hermione hesitated at Harry's squinted look. His eyes still looked terribly cloudy.

"There's something I haven't told you. Do you remember that day Dobby died?"

"All too well." She was sorry to bring it up, if anything, to avoid the haunted expression on Harry's face.

"Well, before we made our escape I was locked in Malfoy's room." She shivered. "It wasn't a pleasant experience. It was almost like someone else. Malfoy, he...he pushed me on his bed. And he displayed inappropriate sexual behaviour."

"Did he..?" Harry looked even more sad. Hermione felt guilty.

"No! Nothing like that. I managed to get away before something happened," Hermione worried her lip. "But I'm not sure if I want to be in the same room with him again without knowing the cause. Because it was un-natural. Unexplainable."

"You should have told me earlier," Harry was pale-faced. "I would've castrated the son of a bitch."

"Harry," Hermione gave him a look full of warning. She hadn't revealed that piece of information so Harry could carry out his own personal piece of vendetta. This was on a need-to-know basis. "He needs urgent medical evaluation before we condemn him."

She was interrupted by a second owl, whisking in through the window. It circled around the candelabra once, before dropping a heavy parchment tied into a scroll. Harry didn't hesitate breaking the seal, and scanning the words, this time in more hope. Hermione leant over his shoulder to read it herself.

Harry Potter, as Draco Malfoy's appointed guardian, we request your presence immediately.
Your charge is getting more uncontrollable by the minute.
Thankfully his gangrene has been cured, though frequent foot rubs are still required.

-St. Mungo's, Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

"I need to go, but I'll floo," Harry stood up.

Hermione was still shaking her head, when he left the room for the kitchen.

The fire behind her turned emerald, moments before Harry popped his head through the fireplace.

"Hermione!" he said, excited. "You don't have to leave!"

"Don't be silly," Hermione shook her head, coming to kneel beside his floating head. "Of course I do. I appreciate you letting me stay here, but I need to move on."

"But there's an explanation!"

Hermione rasied an eyebrow.

"There's an explanation for the heightened sexual behaviour," Harry garbled. "He's a werewolf! He was bitten years ago, and Narcissa locked him up to stop people finding out. If he'd been allowed to roam free, he could've sown his wild oats, but a room Hermione? That would frustrate any wolf."

Hermione let out a bark of disbelief. But it was making a lot of sense. So Malfoy hadn't assaulted her, because he wanted to, but because he didn't have full control of his actions.

A heavy weight was lifted.

"So what if I believe you?" Hermione asked, hugging her knees. "How do we help him?"

The joy on Harry's face was palpable. He now had an ally on his side, who was willing to help him. The best possible ally. Hermione Granger, the girl who wouldn't let go, even if she was told too.

"I'm glad you asked that question, because I'm coming home."

"Oh?"

"With him."

Hermione didn't have time to shriek, before two heads appeared in the fire. Draco was jerking back, hissing a little, and Harry was forcing him to bend over and keep his head in the fire. Hermione had the random metal image of a poor nurse walking into Draco's room, and seeing two bottoms sticking into the air.

She fought a giggle.

And turned it into a gasp.

"Right now?"

"He was discharged several minutes ago, so yeah," Harry shrugged. "You might want to step back though. Two bodies landing on top of you isn't as easy as it sounds."

Hermione gave a shell-shocked nod, and crawled back.

The next second, Harry launched head-first into the living room with Draco in a headlock. The two boys tousled, and Draco made a half-hearted attempt to jump back in the fire. Hermione, with quick reflexes, threw ash on top of the hearth so Draco would have zero chance of leaving.

"Kidnap, Potter?" he got to his own two feet, and brushed himself off. "Hardly subtle."

Hermione was gawking. The Draco she had encountered at the Manor, and the Draco described as wild and feral by the St. Mungo's staff, couldn't be anymore different from the Draco standing in front of them.

He was dressed in pyjamas, true.

But he still managed to maintain self-pride in his appearance. His hair had been combed over to a side-parting.

"Granger," he spotted her. "Should of known you had a part in this."

He was treating her like...normal. There was no indication in his eyes, or body language, that he remembered their last encounter still fiercely implanted in her brain. The way he mauled her in the dark. Spreading her legs wide open so he could hitch them high, and rub his cock against her heat.

Maybe she didn't have to go? If Draco didn't remember...then she could obliviate her brain. Later.

Hermione crossed her arms, and tried to let stark amusement play across her face.

"I wish I could say yes, but this was all Harry's idea."

"You must be tired," Harry typically said, clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I'll show you to your room, before I go back and collect your wand from that nice nurse. You know, she had an interesting story to tell me. Apparently you bribed the entire contents of your Gringott account multiple times, just to get it back..."

Hermione watched them go, Draco dragging his feet, Harry pulling him along.

The next morning, an unexpected arrival caused her to nearly lose her breakfast.

"Do you have any coffee?"

Hermione jumped, an involuntary action, and cursed at her reaction to his voice. Draco was merely asking for a coffee, not asking her to take her clothes off. Accomplished legimens remember, her brain warned.

"It's on the third cupboard to the left," she assisted. "First shelf."

"Thank you," he said, when he hit the jackpot. It felt extremely strange to hear those foreign words come out from Malfoy's mouth, and she could tell it made him feel uncomfortable too. He covered up his faux pas, by clattering mugs together and opening several draws trying to locate spoons.

"Draw right in front of you. Right at the back." Hermione allowed herself a secret smile.

"So what are you doing today?" she asked, when it looked like he wasn't going to show his gratitude the second time round. She turned around to face him, and leant against the sink. "Anywhere you're planning to go?"

"No," he shortly said, eyeing the kettle next to her.

"Oh?" Hermione pouted. "That doesn't sound like any fun."

Draco stared at her bug-eyed, like he couldn't believe the flirty tone she had just used, and Hermione's smile dropped. Who did she think she was exactly entertaining here? This man was deranged, and still hurting over his mother's death. Although hospital treatment might have salvaged him, his sanity was still a ticking time bomb.

No encouragement, Hermione strictly ordered herself. You don't want a repeat of the Manor.

"I'm sorry," Hermione cleared her throat. "I just thought you might have other affairs."

"Look mudblood," Draco took a step forward, in order to intimidate her. "I don't really want to be here, but Potter practically forced my hand in the matter, relieved me off my wand, and made this house inescapable. So don't go taunting me with Is there anywhere you're planning to go? with those big eyes of yours."

Draco came to an abrupt halt. Hermione widened her eyes.

"What was that?" he growled.

"What was what?" Hermione frantically looked elsewhere.

"What I just said," he stared her down. "That wasn't me."

"No, it was just your wolfish counterpart," Hermione muttered, deciding enough was enough. She put down her mug, and skirted around Draco like he was a wildebeest in order to exit the door. As Hermione was on the verge of leaving, she heard a pained grunt behind her. Common sense told her not to look. Common sense told her a lot of things. But Hermione ignored them, and chanced a look back.

Draco was doubled over, cupping his privates.

"What. The. Fuck?" he panted.

His palms were big, oppressive even. But they weren't big enough to cover the tent threatening to break free from his pants. Hermione gave a startled gasp. Draco was hanging his head in shame. Even a blind monkey would be able to take a whiff, and see how aroused he was.

"What happened?" was all she could think to ask.

"Fenir Greyback is what happened," Draco said through clenched teeth. "He bit me, and now I'm like this. A slave to carnal pleasure. A particularly strong wind current, and I'm up like no man's business."

"But we're inside," Hermione faintly said. She had a vivid flashback to the last time she was stuck in a room, when Draco Malfoy had a raging problem. He had pinned her against the bed, and rubbed into her. What about this time? Maybe what he was saying was the truth. She could leave, and he wouldn't notice...

A pained whine, one a dog should never make, came from Draco's lips as he sank to the floor.

He looked like his balls were going to kill him.

"Malfoy!" she snapped. "Go to your room and sort it out!"

And god help Harry when he got home. The Boy who Lived, was going to wish he died when she was through with him. He was going to stay up all night, with her, and help brew potions that controlled werewolves. Now they knew the root of the problem, it would solve everything.

She hoped.

Draco was still making pitiful noises on the floor.

"MALFOY," she said loudly. "Sort it out in private, please."

AN: Wrote this chapter back to front. Review me for thoughts, please?

Next chapter, Hermione tries to obliviate her memory...to some hilarious consequences...(or not so hilarious. Still haven't decided yet!)