It doesn't hurt me.
Do you want to feel how it feels?
Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making?
You, it's you and me

Placebo (Running up that hill)

Control

The house was quant. It reminded Hermione of her house back in London. The house her parents had, before she sent them away. She followed John up to the front door, no light shone through the glass pane as she peeked into it to get a look.

The Jangle of his keys sounded before the door was unlocked. "Ladies first."

She nodded and walked through the opening. To her left stood a table with mountains of paper littering it, some spewing onto the floor. She assumed that they were case files the sheriff had dug through in the past few weeks. It looked strangely similar to the office she was currently working in. To the front of her was a steep stair case that seem to go on for a while because of the lack of lighting.

"His room is the first to the right at the top. Do you want me to go with you?" John gestured upwards. The concern that riddled his face was almost too much for Hermione to fathom. She hadn't been told much about the boy in question, other than logistics and basic info about all of his friends belonging to the magical community. But something told her that there was much more going on than just the simple 'he's the only human' statement.

"It might be wise, at least for an introduction sir. I personally wouldn't want someone walking in on me that I don't know if I were this scared." She told him and took a step forwards up the stair case.

John opened the door to the right. It was dark, almost too dark for being midafternoon. A blanket was draped over the window and objects were scattered all over the place. "Stiles?" John's voice reached the boy in the corner of the room.

"Dad?" Stiles was curled into a ball on top of his bed. The small amount of light that shone through highlighted some features on him what wasn't so appealing; red circles eliminated is half closed eyes and his hair was sticking up in all ways. It looked oily, like he hadn't gotten out of that bed in days. His skin was pale as well. Almost so white she may have been mistaken him for a ghost. The only redeeming quality here was the amber colored eyes that peered through the bright red rims.

"This is Hermione, she can help you" John explained. She stepped out from behind him and walked over to the side of the bed.

"What?" Stiles sat up. But was still folded in on himself, like he was trying not to cause harm.

"Hello, Stiles" Hermione offered softly, trying to make her position less intimidating.

"Who are you?" There was a small rattling noise that came from the desk. John watched as the girl put one of his son's hands in her own. Almost immediately stopping the movement. Stiles's eyes went wide on curiosity and looked at her in surprise.

"I'm like you" She said in a whisper. She was told that it was easier to break the news to someone by seeming less then herself, more on his level, to bring on a sort of comfort.

"Am I… am I going mad?" His voice cracked as he took his hand away and scooting back onto the bed.

Hermione warmly smiled for a moment. "No, you're not going mad. Not in the slightest, though it probably seems that way right now."

"How did you stop it?" He asked, looking over at his desk and then back to her briefly.

"Magic" She animated her hands to make it seem all whimsical. Trying to be funny, which she was never good at anyway. She didn't see any change in his expression. Her smile fell. "See, I'm a witch. I was born to non-magical parents too, I didn't know until I was near 12 years old."

"And I'm like you? A witch?" he asked not looking at anything in particular, just trying to avoid looking at her.

"Well yes, but we have a name for male witches, Wizards. I'm so sorry that I'm telling you this know, normally the ministry sends out orders for this information when one is 11." She realized after she said it that she said a little bit much.

"Ministry?" he looked her in the eyes now. "Like a witches' council?" Stiles was still Stiles, even though he was tired to the point of falling over, he was still spot on when it came to figuring things out.

She was shocked. He was smart, smarter than she had anticipated. "Yes, there's a little bit more to it than that. But essentially yes." She wanted to ask how he knew, but she didn't want a trigger to go off and allow him to get out of control with his own magic. "Was this all you?" She asked, referring to the disheveled room.

"Yeah… that was me. How do I stop it?" As soon as he muttered those words, a dresser drawer flew out from his dresser and landed across the room only to be smashed to pieces. "I'm sorry."

The occurrence scared her. She had no idea that he would be this strong. She sat down next to him on the mess of sheets and blankets tangled on the bed. "Close your eyes." He did what he was told. "Good now breathe and think about a good memory." Hermione continued. "Let it consume you."

The whole thing was very odd for Stiles. But her instructions were helping him. And right now he needed all the help he could get. Hermione's presence was oddly comforting, too comfortable.

"Normally you would have gone to school to learn how to control it." She breathed after a while of silence. John was long gone from the door way to allow Hermione to do her work. "I have a couple options for you. Both of which I have spoken to my superiors about." She waited a moment for him to blink, or do anything. But he just kept his eyes shut.

She went on about the two options. He had an uneasy demeanor, but kept his mouth closed. Option one is he stay in Beacon Hills and she stay around for a while to help him out. This option would take longer, in her opinion, because he wouldn't be around others of his own kind. As weird as that sounds, to learn as fast as possible. The second option was that he was to go back to London with Hermione and be immersed in the magic world. The one problem with that is Hogwarts had yet to reopen, so he would have to stay with her or someone else, leaving them to deal with his issues.

"I'm going to need to talk things over with my… friends." After hearing her speak, that was the only thing he could think to say. They depended on him so much, and to be honest, he didn't want to leave home - leave everything behind.

"Are you going to tell them about…"She didn't have time to finish her sentence.

"Yeah, I tell them everything. And, well… most of them aren't Human either" Stiles explained. At this point in the conversation he was rapidly biting his nails and trembling like a cat in water.

"Werewolves."

"How did you know?"

"Beacon Hills is a highly concentrated area for magical creatures. Werewolves seem to be the biggest… population wise here, in this town at the moment." They were, at this point, sitting next to each other. She sitting at the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap and he sitting cross legged facing her.

He looked up, still slightly shaking. "How old are you? You seem to know a lot… about this, stuff." The rambling of his voice seemed to have also offset all of the hangers in his closet to unhook and fall to the floor in a heap.

Hermione stared at the pile and laughed. Not because of what just happened but because of the question. "I'm 19." There was a lot more to that number than just being a number. She had done more at his age than most people would go on to do in a life time. She wanted to tell him more, but again, too much information that he doesn't need to know right now, not in his current… condition.