A/N: Thanks again to everyone who has supported this story so far. What this chapter lacks in length, I hope it makes up for in substance. Enjoy.


Jacob listened in fascination to every word Hermione told him about her life, from when she found out she was a witch, up until when she became a vampire. He occasionally threw in comments, once expressing extreme outrage at Bellatrix's torture, but mostly he just listened. It seemed amazing that one person could have been through so much in such a short life.

"So, what you're saying is that if I want any kind of life expectancy at all I should be thanking every star in the sky that I wasn't born with magic?" he asked as she finished her story.

"Most witches and wizards live normal lives. I was just sorted into the wrong house," she shrugged, glad he wasn't pressing for details about her life since becoming a vampire. She wasn't sure at which point the pack would consider her a 'Cullen', but she was smart enough to know there would be problems if they found out about the two Snatchers. "And you're not exactly in the right line of work for keeping out of danger."

"You did all that stuff to protect who you love and what you hold dear, I'm doing the same thing. Though you did it by choice. You could have run if you wanted to."

"I didn't see it as much of a choice. Though I guess it's a lot different than involuntarily changing into a giant, furry animal."

"Did you buy yourself a copy of that book?" he asked as they entered Forks.

"The Rita Skeeter load of tripe? Yes. It should be a lovely work of fiction, like the rest of the things that dung beetle manages to pile together."

"I take it you don't think too highly of her," he chuckled.

"You know those magazines you can buy at the gas stations or supermarket checkouts with the sensational news stories only the bottom rung can believe without questions? They'd love to have her as a reporter, but she wouldn't want to because she feels that if she gets her falsities published in a real newspaper that makes her more credible and thus a real reporter. And the Daily Prophet is considered a 'real' newspaper, though it's only one step above those magazines," she said bitterly.

"They print what sells," he pointed out.

"Do you want a ride home?" she asked. "Well, not all the way home, but I can drop you off at the line."

'No,' he thought, eying her. 'I want wherever you are to be 'home'.' But he managed to say, "Nah, I'll help you haul stuff in."

"I can make Edward do that."

"No. I want to see. All your talk got me really interested. You should be a teacher or something, I've never been this anxious to get a look at something science related in a while."

"Somehow I think that wouldn't make parents too happy," she gave a half smile as she turned towards the white house.

He swallowed hard before he asked his next question. "Do you love him?" he whispered.

"No," she replied shortly.

"Did you?"

She stared ahead at the trees.

"Sorry," he shook his head.

"I realize now I've had a very young, naive view of love."

"What would that be?"

"That there are two people out there who are right for each other. They like the same things, they get along well, they're compatible physically and emotionally and slowly they fall in love and spend the rest of their lives together. Nothing is that simple," she shook her head as if angry at her own stupidity.

"Tell me about it," he snorted.

"I'd imagine that lusting after the same person for a while without getting a single response would be extremely frustrating."

'You have no idea', his brain hissed at her, but he gave her a weak smile. "Fortunately for some of my pack we cut out the 'meet and see if we're compatible' stage."

"What, like love at first sight?"

"Sort of. It's called imprinting. It's how some of us find our soul mates, we see them, we fall for them instantly."

"Only some of you? The rest of you get a raw deal, don't you?" she smirked.

"I'm sure some would prefer it."

She parked in the garage next to the Volvo. Bella and Edward were climbing out of the other car, stopping their conversation abruptly as Jacob and Hermione climbed out of her car. They brought the bags inside and up to the room Hermione had transformed into her lab, a smaller version of the dungeon she had spent so many hours in while at Hogwarts. Without a word Edward and Bella left.

"Did you imprint on her?" Hermione asked, unwrapping a set of phials.

"Who?" he asked, heart skipping a beat.

"Bella," she said, pausing and looking at him curiously before pulling her heavy cauldron from her bag. "And be careful with that," she motioned towards the flask he was holding. "Dragon blood is expensive and really hard to come by."

He placed the flask carefully down next to other jars full of various ingredients. "No. I didn't. I tried, but it's one of those things that just sort of happens, and it never happened with her. What's this for?" he tried to change the subject, holding up a sponge like object.

"It's something for me to bite on, it's magically designed to rapidly suck venom out of whatever bites it. Designed for use on some of the more nasty creatures where the traditional ways of milking venomous creatures is too dangerous. Like dragons that can breathe fire and have bits of nasty tempers. Put some meat on it, wait for it to bite down on the meat, it won't swallow the sponge because it tastes nasty, but in the second or so it is in the dragon's mouth is enough to get a good enough sample."

"You're going to bite down on it even though it tastes gross?" he asked, making a face.

"It's for the greater good. I'll go hunting afterwards, should wipe the taste right out of my mouth."

"Do I need to bite on one of those?" he asked in disgust.

"No. You just need to spit in a jar. I assume you can do that?" she gave him a smile that caused his insides to lurch.

"If you're going to give me attitude I'll make it difficult," he returned the smile.

"Nothing worth doing is ever easy," she said, walking towards him, then reaching around him for another bag. For a moment her hand brushed his arm, and he inhaled sharply as it did.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked, looking up at him in alarm.

"No," he replied quickly. "Just... cold."

"Sorry," she smiled as she turned to walk back to her workstation. "I'll go spend some time in the sauna and maybe it'll warm up a bit."

"I kind of liked it," he muttered, staring at the spot on his arm.

"Excuse me?" she looked up at him.

"It felt kind of like a cool breeze on a warm day. I liked it." He looked up to meet her eyes.

"Your skin did feel warm," she looked awkwardly at the tabletop.

"Did you like it?" he asked.

"Being warm is one of those things that human beings have a tendency to take advantage of," she replied, biting her lip, looking embarrassed.

"Yeah, like breathing, blinking, having a pulse..." he chuckled.

"Oh, shush," she said, unwrapping a new set of scales.

He walked up next to her, pretending to look at her equipment. He rested his hand near hers on the table. Slowly she moved her hand closer to his until they were almost touching, then she closed her eyes as if concentrating.

Hand shaking, he took his and carefully rested it on top of hers. She sighed, eyes still closed, but didn't pull her hand away.

He expected that touching her hand would be like plunging his into a bucket of ice water. Instead he felt calmed, less agitated than he had in days, and while he was aware that the hand he was holding was much colder than his own, it was certainly not the feeling of holding frosted marble he had been expecting. Studying her face for any sign of a reaction he closed his hand over hers. She allowed her fingers to become intertwined with his.

"You've imprinted, haven't you?" she whispered.

"Yes," he replied softly.

"How? I thought we weren't supposed to be able to be this close without tearing each other apart."

"Trust me, I didn't ask for this. And I've been trying to fight this ever since it happened. I just can't," he replied.

"Edward's going to flip his lid if he finds out."

"That's nothing to what the pack is going to do to me."

She chuckled half-heartedly. "This is like a really messed up version of Romeo and Juliet, isn't it?"

"Shakespeare couldn't have possibly thought this one up," he replied.

"I don't even know you, and you're supposed to be my soul mate. This has to be one of the most confusing things I've ever heard of," she looked up at him.

"All the stuff you've seen, this is the confusing thing?" he smirked.

"Stop. I'm trying to process this," she shook her head and began pacing. "It just doesn't make sense. Why would a werewolf who is only a werewolf so he can kill vampires imprint on one of them?"

"I think part of the point of imprinting is the only reason to it is that you're compatible to each other."

"Vampire. Werewolf," she pointed to herself, then him. "How much less compatible could you get?"

"Maybe we're supposed to see past that to our true compatibility."

"We don't know if we're compatible yet!" she protested.

"I guess if we did the dating, get to know each other thing they'd call it 'falling in love' rather than imprinting."

"You have to forgive me. I wasn't exactly expecting to have something like this happen to me. Ever." It was obvious from her tone that she was stressed out.

"Listen, it's not the ideal situation," he said, grabbing her hand again and pulling her around to look at him. "And if you want me to pretend like nothing happened then I will. But I've been pretending for days and it's driving me insane."

"What do you want?" she looked up into his eyes.

"You."

She looked shocked.

"Not in a physical sense. Not like that or anything yet. Just to know that you know and you're willing to give it a shot."

She studied him. "Don't expect any big declarations of love from me anytime soon."

"I don't," he whispered, then turned her face to his, and bent down so his lips touched hers. Her eyes fluttered closed and she allowed him to take her in his arms as their lips remained locked to each others.