Beta love to mcal. Alpha love to mykesprit. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Chapter Warning: attempting assault, and threats of sexual assault in this chapter.


Hermione flew up the stairs, racing past Theo and Daphne before either of them could stop her. Get out, get out, get out. Portraits stared down at her, most of her ancestors sneering down at her. The carpeted corridor was nearly silent below her hurried footsteps.

She'd done her duty. She'd come. She'd fullilled her end of their deal, yet she'd felt the nausea plastered all over his face. His anger was rarely voiced out loud, but she wondered if he had only been moments from tearing her down in front of the top circles of society.

Her mother's portrait was empty as she sprinted by, her dress dragging along the lush carpets as she scarcely thought it necessary to pick up the hem. What did she care anyway? It was a grossly expensive dress that would never be worn again; not when she wasn't meant to wear the same dress more than once. It was all ridiculous and yet—

It was her life. All of it. And there was no escape.

She loved her family, even her father. Was it so much to want to love a husband?

Of course she knew it wasn't how things were done, but something had to give. She wanted more out of life than entertaining wealthy socialites over tea time. Hermione wanted, needed, to make a difference. There were so many things in the world that she could barely grasp now from being holed up in her ancestral home.

She rushed into her room, pulling her wand from its hiding place between her breasts. Hermione ought to have unlaced the dress by magic, and she would have, had Winky not put a charm on it that prevented her to do just as much. She growled beneath her breath. "Accio cloak," she hissed.

Throwing the black fabric around her shoulders, Hermione's head snapped up just as footsteps sounded outside her door. Oh, that just wouldn't do. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts while she considered her next move; what exactly she would say when she came face to face with Thoros Nott once more.

Hermione traced the spell movement with a flourish, hiding herself under a Disillusionment Charm just as her door burst open. It was only Harry, but still...

She slipped right past Harry as he looked her room over, and she brushed his hand. He looked right at her, giving a slight nod of his head.

She hurried through the corridors, passing Ron who was clutching a goblet. "Hermione?" he called out.

She froze, giving a quiet sigh of relief when she realised he hadn't noticed her. He was only calling out for her.

Hermione made her way to the exit on the second floor, and she pushed the door open with her palm flat against the glass pane. It was cool to the touch as she paused at the stop of the stone steps that would lead to the courtyard, where she would pass through a gate and steal away into the forest.

The April night air was chilly around her. She pulled her cloak closer as she took two steps at a time. Craning her head back, she stared at the sky. A full moon lit the sky and she wondered how Remus was, if he'd locked himself in his cage this time.

And then she wondered if he would spend the rest of his life caging himself. If she had thoroughly fucked any chance of him being able to enjoy his life after she had gone against her father.

"Fuck," she whispered, sliding her fingers along the lock of the aged iron gate when she came to it. The courtyard was brightly lit by the castle behind her, the party carrying on within its walls. Hermione made her way through dismantling the locking charm, taking a few ties before she pushed the gate open.

Hermione made her way through the forest and once she was deep enough that she could not be seen, she murmured: "Finite,"

It was quiet, save for the wind blowing through the leaves in the trees overhead. She silently scolded herself for not bringing something as simple as a book to pass the time, but she supposed she was meant to be thinking. She carefully made her way down the decline, transfiguring her heels into more appropriate footwear.

Down by a winding creek there was a Weeping Willow she frequented as a child. Should anyone come to look for her, it was the first place they would look. She bit her lip. Her father wouldn't come in search for her, not when he could send someone else. Theo would know where to find her, and she wouldn't mind if he were with her.

At least he knew when to stop talking, unlike Harry or Ron.

Hermione took in her reflection as she lifted the tiara from her head. She stared at it, her chest tight. Was there anything she could have done different? Certainly. She could have politely excused herself from the dance. She could have gone to Theo as she was meant to.

There were several things she could have changed, but she was debating whether or not she should have listened to the obedience lessons she had been taught.

The internal debate was cut short by a low snarl behind her and a nipping at her heels.

She froze, clenching the tirara so tightly that a diamond sliced her finger. She hadn't heard twigs snapping, nor had she seen anything out of her peripheral.It was an animal, she thought as a tongue traced her heel, tracing her calf. Surely it would already have noticed she was more than aware, but she didn't make a sudden movement for her wand.

Hermione gasped, though, when something slammed against her spine, knocking her into the shallow end of the river on her stomach. "Oh, Merlin," she hissed. Pain laced through her ankle, shooting up her leg. The ankle was sprained, and she was certain she wouldn't be able to run, or even walk. Would she even be able to crawl up the embankment?

She strained for her vine wand floating near a lily pad on the surface of the river. Gripping it in her hand, she caught the sight of movement in the reflection of the water, and her heart stopped in her chest.

It was a werewolf, his coat a dark mahogany color and his eyes were yellow as they stared back at her. A paw came down at the base of her spine, beginning to stroke and she shuddered.

Pretty thing.

There was not nearly enough research regarding Lycanthropy and Remus didn't often speak of it. It defied all logic, yet she knew it had to be the voice of the wolf sounding in her mind. "Get away from me," she growled, and he pressed her into the water at the sound.

Don't try to fight me. You'll lose.

She couldn't stand the snarling that was grating at her ear. Hermione cast a wordless hex right over her head, scrambling to at least face him. "Stay back," she hissed, the water splashing against her.

His teeth were bared as his mouth curled back. Claws that dug into the earth sent her heart into uneven palpitations and she didn't even have time to scold herself for taking off in the middle of the night on a full moon.

She scrambled backward, dragging herself onto the shoreline and the brush there. Hermione sucked in a breath, her hands trembling as she stared down a feral werewolf. If she thought about what could happen, she wouldn't get out of there, not when this wolf was fixing her with a gaze that screamed of zero control over the wolf.

Or, even more frightening, the possibility that this was a man who didn't care to have control over the wolf.

She whipped her wand through the air, halfway through the curse, but there was no time. He lunged for her, a fierce howl tearing through the night that seeped into her bones.

He slammed her into the hard earth, the pebbles of the river floor digging into the divots of her spine as he captured her wand in his jowls. She watched in terror as it snapped in half. The little bit of wandless magic she could do wouldn't be enough to fend off a werewolf.

She shuddered, her eyes squeezing shut as her head fell to the side. Hermione thrashed, attempting to kick him off of her, but it's of little use with he snapped his teeth at her face, his breath ghosting over her face, and she shrunk away from him.

His claws slid against the straps of her dress, ripping them away from her as he stared down at her unforgivingly. Her head fell back as white hot pain spread through her shoulder, and she knew he'd sliced the skin open.

She stared at the castle, her voice bottled up in her chest so she couldn't even scream. No one would think of the howling as a werewolf, they wouldn't make a connection at all. They were never sighted near—

How had the wards come down? She needed to get back to everyone. If there was a chink in the metaphorical armor, there was sure to be more problems than just one werewolf.

In a moment that was surely not her brightest, Hermione reared back and punched the werewolf above her in the snout.

He snarled, his head dipping down as his nose skimmed the tops of her breasts, using one claw to tear her dress away from them. You'll make a good whore.

Salty tears clouded her vision and she whimpered while wracking her brain for a way out of this.

You'll look so good swollen with pups, won't you?

Hermione sobbed, "No, get away from me!" And she knew that she was going to raped and impregnated by a werewolf and stolen away from her home. It wouldn't last, she reminded herself. Morning would come and she would stand a far better chance of fighting of a man rather than a wolf.

His attention left her as he raised his head, lupine yellow eyes narrowing at a distant rustling.

She grabbed the chance while she had it. Fumbling, she rushed to climb out from under him. It was of little use as he pinned her with his own body, a foreign protrusion rutting against her lower back. "Get off," she begged.

A white blur raced through the trees, and the weight that had suddenly been on her back was missing. Hermione lifted herself to her knees, her eyes catching the sight of her bloodied palms as her eyes widened as the sight in front of her.

There was a white wolf, his mouth open in a fierce snarl standing with his tail to her. He dug at the ground, his back arching as he snapped at the wolf that had attacked her.

Hermione crawled up the embankment, keeping one eye on the conflict in front of her. Soaked to the bone, she whined gently as she put too much pressure on her already swollen ankle. There would be no getting to the castle, and she was resigned to watch the horror play out in front of her. Gasping for breath, she dug around inside her cloak, heating the familiar clinking of vials that she normally gave Remus with his Wolfsbane.

It was incredibly fortunate that he had not taken the healing potions this month, and that he'd had his own prepared.

She tipped two of the vials to her lips, greedily swallowing each.

The confrontation did not last long.

She watched with bated breath as the white wolf lunged forward, rolling with her attacker across the forest floor. There was a snapping of jaws, a sickening tear that had to be flesh, and a low whimper.

The white wolf stepped away, not so much as casting a second glance towards her would be rapist before he trotted over to her.

Hermione's eyes shot open at the sight of him, his pristine white coat matted with blood, and she scurried backwards. "What do you want?" she asked.

She was puzzled when no voice echoed in her mind once more. He neared her, gently nudging her swollen ankle with his head. Despite knowing she shouldn't relax, not given what's just happened, Hermione's shoulders dropped as he came to sit beside her. He peeled away the swollen scraps of lace that had been torn from her dress, and lapped her wounds.

"Thank you." Her lip trembled as she laid her hands in her lap. "You saved my life. I hope that you didn't do so to be able to kill me yourself."

But still no response came. Hermione lifted her hand, slowly as she could as she showed it to him, and laid it just behind his ear. He growled and glared at her, but she didn't rip away from him. Fresh blood dripped from the wound.

"Can I look at it? I can help you, but we can't stay here. My father will send someone to look for me eventually." Hermione showed him the two last vials she had stowed away in her cloak, and he leaned forward to sniff them. "Let me repay you for helping me."

He stood and led her along the creek, looking back often as she limped along. The potion had numbed some of the pain, but it was a weak replacement for an actual healer. He led her to a small cave that posed as an inlet of the cliff in the forest.

She knew that she ought to have been afraid, but that would have been hypocrisy. She wasn't afraid of all werewolves, just the one that had viciously attacked her.

There was a small bundle of sticks, and a scrap that had once belonged to a quilted blanket. The wolf sat beside them, staring at her as his head tilted.

"Wait here," she whispered, pulling her cloak and wrapping it around him after tearing a piece from it as she leaned down. "I'll be right back, okay?"

There was a barely perceptible nod.

Hermione hobbled to the creek only twenty feet away, dampening the cloth in her hands. He was waiting in the same exact place she returned. Kneeling in front of him, she uncapped the vials and demonstrated for him to tilt his head back.

He made a foul face as he swallowed the first.

"I know," she laughed, "it's bloody awful, isn't it? One more. Chin up." Hermione gave the remaining vial, setting it to the stone floor and he watched it roll away. "Please stay still. I'm going to clean the wound and I'd hate to hurt you anymore that you already are."

He gave a low whine and settled down on his paws. Laying his chin on her legs that were crossed below her dress, Hermione leaned forward to clean the gash just behind his ear.

"Oh," she murmured, bile rising in her throat, "he nearly tore your ear off. I can bring you more potions tomorrow as soon as I can sneak away. I'm certain that my father will be out of his wits, and insist I say inside, but I've snuck out under worse conditions." Hermione paused. "Can you understand me at all? The other wolf could speak in my mind."

Nothing. No answer beyond his head nuzzling her belly.

"You're incredibly affectionate." Hermione smiled as she finished cleaning the wound. "I'd like to clean your face up a bit. Do you mind?"

He sat up once more, looking entirely unimpressed as she cleaned his bloodied fur. Hermione had to make another trip to the stream to be able to completely clean his face, but he waited in patient silence.

Eventually, exhaustion threatened to claim her, and she laid at the floor at the cave, seemingly unable to leave. "I should go home." she murmured as he curled up beside her, tucking his tail around his frame.

He whined in protest.

She slid her hand across his soft fur, petting him until all she could hear was soft snores. Grinning to herself, she realised that the best thing to do was to go home, but her curiosity won out. She wanted to know who this man was come morning, and why he had saved her.

She tugged the cloak over her body while resting her arm across his body until sleep rushed up to take her.


Next Chapter:

Her eyes settled on the headlines immediately.

Princess Hermione Nott Still Defends Werewolves Following Attack Outside Of Her Home.

Close sources say the princess clearly cannot be trusted to make decisions of her own.

The attack followed a debable occurring during an event hosted in her honor.

Former Gryffindor is believed to be lying about the death of werewolf recently identified as Hogwarts alumni from the same year as the princess. A possible lover's quarrel gone wrong, perhaps?

Princess Hermione Nott to stand before Wizengamot—against King Nott's express requests—and appeal for rights for Werewolves.