NOTE: Shit gets real in this chapter, y'all. YOU ARE NOT PREPARED.

CHAPTER 7

May 12, 1998

Hermione did not want to go to see Dumbledore, if she was being honest. And she was. Being honest, that is. She'd told Harry that while she was, of course, grateful for the thought, discussing her deepest secrets and problems with a dead man wasn't exactly the way that she'd planned on spending the day after the full moon. He'd given her that pleading, ever-so-concerned look and asked her to just try it and Sirius had shrugged and agreed that it probably couldn't hurt, so she'd reluctantly agreed. That was how she found herself, a few short hours later, stumbling out of the fireplace in Professor McGonagall's private quarters. The woman had immediately helped her to her feet and embraced her warmly.

"It's lovely to see you again, Hermione." Hermione smiled weakly back at her. "I could say the same, Professor."

"Oh, you know you can call me Minerva."

Harry and Sirius emerged from the fireplace right behind her; pleasantries were exchanged and the four of them started off down the hallway to the Headmaster's office. McGonagall explained that while the Headmaster typically stayed in the quarters attached to their office, she elected to remain in her old rooms- she'd been there for far too many years to switch now, she said.

Hermione was somewhat surprised to see that the castle was full of students. School had, of course, been cancelled following the battle due to the mass destruction inflicted upon the building. Final exams were to be held elsewhere, but there were a healthy number of people staying in the castle to assist with the rebuilding effort. As they made their way down the hall, they passed people working in groups- repairing portraits, mending the stone walls, setting runes in the foundations of each floor. Several of the groups included familiar faces- but none stopped to say hello. Instead, they eyed Hermione warily, their eyes lingering on her scarred face and bruised arms with a mix of curiosity and pity. She felt herself flush with embarrassment and anger; she let her hair fall from behind her ears to cover her eyes and picked up her pace, walking briskly until she stood just outside the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"Hermione-" Sirius started, but she just shook her head minutely. McGonagall frowned, but she didn't press the issue.

"The password is 'chocolate frogs,'" she told them. "Albus should be awake, he knows that you are coming to speak with him. I trust the three of you to conduct yourselves accordingly." Hermione nodded and McGonagall smiled. "It really was wonderful to see you, however brief." And with that, she started away from the office, her long cloak streaming behind her.

"Chocolate frogs," said Harry, and the three of them started up the staircase to see Dumbledore. When they stepped through the door into the office, they came almost immediately face to face with the man in question; his portrait was affixed to the wall directly opposite the door, and he was smiling brightly at them. Hermione averted her eyes and took a seat in one of the three chairs positioned on the opposite side of the large, dark wood desk.

"If it isn't Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Black. Three faces I must say I'm absolutely delighted to see again." Even in portrait form, Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. In Hermione's hyper-anxious state, it was more than a little unsettling. She clenched her jaw.

"Professor," she murmured politely, keeping her eyes on the desk in front of her. Her face was still flushed from the scrutiny she'd received upon entering the castle, and she was already anxious to get the pleasantries out of the way so she could leave. Sirius gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Harry without preamble, "we're here because of Hermione."

"Ah, yes." At that, the old professor's face turned grave. "I was deeply sorry to hear of both the unfortunate events that led to your contraction of lycanthropy and, of course, of your loss, Miss Granger. Remus Lupin was a brave man."

At the word lycanthropy, Hermione's heard dropped into her stomach. "My- I'm sorry, Professor, how do you know about… about me?" She'd assumed that she would have to tell him, if she hoped to gain any advice from him, but she was deeply unsettled at the thought that her affliction might be becoming common knowledge.

"I'm afraid I'm no longer a professor these days. You are more than welcome to call me Albus, if you prefer. I find that I certainly would." He was twinkling again. "As for your condition- as you might recall, I was sharing this very office with one Severus Snape for much of the last year. He was quite disturbed- furious, in actuality- about the treatment you three, and Mr. Weasley, received at Malfoy Manor. Fenrir Greyback in particular was an unfortunate shell of a man. Forgive me for being so forward, but I assure you, your secret is safe with me."

"We trust you, Albus," Sirius offered. "You… you kept Remus's secret for years. He's actually why we're here."

Hermione exhaled shakily and Harry shot her a reassuring glance.

"Professor," she started, because no matter what Dumbledore said, there was no way she was calling him Albus, "how much, exactly, do you know about werewolves? Specifically, werewolf packs and… and the magical bonds that that entails."

"We think Hermione and Remus had a pack bond-" Harry started to explain, but Hermione cut him off testily.

"We do have a pack bond," she corrected. "I could feel it."

Harry frowned, but continued. "They… they have a pack bond. And ever since he… nothing's been the same. Her transformation last night was horrible, Professor- Albus- do you know anything? What can we do?"

There was a long moment of silence, and when the three living occupants of the room finally raised their eyes to meet Dumbledore's painted ones, he was staring down at them with an intently contemplative expression on his wrinkled face.

"Hermione," he said, startling her with the use of her first name. She didn't think Dumbledore had ever called her Hermione before. "You have quite the set of friends. I'd say that you, Harry, and Sirius are quite lucky to have one another. You say you and Remus had a pack bond?"

"Have," she said again. "Have. Sirius and Harry, they're pack, too, but with Remus it was- well, since he was a werewolf, like me, our wolves- we could sense each other, it was different."

"You have no magical connection with Sirius or Harry?"

At that, Hermione furrowed her brows. "I… I do," she said slowly. If she concentrated hard, she could feel a shadow of the same warmth that her bond with Remus had offered. "It's there. I've never noticed it before, it's so faint." She looked at Harry and Sirius. "Do you feel it?"

Both men closed their own eyes for several moments and nodded uncertainly.

"Unsealed," Dumbledore was murmuring, almost to himself. "Hermione, your bond with Remus- did the magic disappear when he passed?"

The mention of his death send a cold wave of despair over her, like always. When she spoke it was in a small voice. "Yes. Vanished. I've felt… cold ever since."

"Yet you can still sense the magic between the three of you. I wonder if it isn't… yes, it must be… so very curious…" His musings trailed off into an incomprehensible murmur. Hermione shifted awkwardly in her seat and exchanged bewildered glances with Harry and Sirius. They both looked just as confused as she did. Finally, Dumbledore spoke out loud again, so abruptly that it made her jump in her chair.

"Harry," he said, "if you'll look to your left, just on that shelf… yes, yes. The gold one, if you will. I'd like Hermione to have it."

Harry moved slowly towards a shelf covered in the whirring instruments that had filled the office when Dumbledore was Headmaster. They were all silver but for one- a small golden cylinder with odd levers protruding from one side. He waved aside the cloud of strong-smelling smoke that a strangely teapot-shaped object seemed to be emitting and reached for the cylinder; it was surprisingly warm and its weight was comfortable in his palm. He ran his thumb over its smooth surface once before crossing back to Hermione's chair and offering it to her.

"What is it?" Hermione asked as she reached out to take the object from Harry. Dumbledore only smiled maddeningly.

"I believe that it might help you find what you are looking for," he said simply. He regarded her for a long moment, and she found herself struggling to hold his gaze. "Some bonds transcend reality, Hermione. I truly wish you the best in life."

"Professor," she started, but a light snore cut her off. Dumbledore's eyes were closed, spectacles drooping on his nose. "Why, that old-"

"Hermione!"

"What?! There is no way he fell asleep that fast. He just hands me a random magical device with no explanation and then has the nerve to pretend to be asleep when I try to-"

"Okay, I think we should go home!" Sirius grabbed onto her arm and steered her towards the fireplace, tossing a bit of Floo powder into the flames and gently prodding her forward before her rant got out of hand.

"Good call," came a voice from an unknown portrait, snickering as Hermione vanished with a flash of green.

"He is quite batty sometimes," said another.

Sirius caught Harry's eye and shook his head. "You're telling me."

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

"What do you suppose it does?" Harry asked for what must have been the thousandth time. It was well past nightfall, and Hermione had spent the hours since leaving Hogwarts combing through the modest collection of books in Lupin Cottage, searching for something, anything that would give her information on the strange little instrument Dumbledore had gifted her.

"I don't know, Harry," she said exasperatedly. "He said it would help me find what I'm looking for… so maybe, I don't know, it's like the Deluminator? But nothing happens when I press the levers. None of these books are useful, either- for all we know, Dumbledore created this himself…"

"We could go to Grimmauld Place and check the Black library," Sirius offered. He looked as though the suggestion pained him and Hermione managed a weak smile at his discomfort.

"That's a good idea, Sirius. Maybe I'll go tomorrow… For now, I'll just keep looking through these… I don't think I'll find anything but you never know. Really, I should check the Hogwarts one…"

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

It was well after midnight when Hermione slipped into Harry's room, clutching the little gold cylinder in one hand. She'd spent hours looking through the books, and still hadn't found a single scrap of relevant information; she'd given up for the night and didn't want to sleep alone, so she went to Harry. After the first night she'd stayed in his room, the awkwardness had dissipated and he immediately pulled back the blankets for her to climb in next to him. She crawled into the bed, wincing at the pain in her limbs; her body was still wrecked from the transformation the night before. She settled herself against Harry's side and lay there, staring at the ceiling, relishing the warmth beside her and running her fingers over the smooth metal surface of Dumbledore's mysterious instrument. It was infuriating her.

"You'll figure it out," Harry said after a few long moments of silence, rolling onto his side to face her. "It's weird, Dumbledore's weird- but you... you always figure it out. It's what you do."

"I just… Why would he give this to me and then- I get no explanation and... and it's not like there's any history of these things, I don't even know what it's called-" She could feel herself getting more and more worked up as she ranted, the wolf beginning to claw at the inside of her chest, threatening to take over. "How is this meant to help me, all it's done is drive me mad- I can't live like this Harry!" Her grip was steadily tightening around the cylinder.

"Hermione- Hermione, look!" Harry suddenly sat bolt upright in the bed and gestured wildly towards the cylinder grasped in Hermione's fist. It had started to glow bright, shimmering gold, and hidden between her clenched fingers were what looked like bright white words- "It says something, look at it! Quick!"

"It's… I think it's an incantation. Exscindo Exitus." When she said the words, the cylinder flared even brighter, if only for a split second.

"Maybe try the levers?" Harry suggested excitedly. Hermione nodded and tipped all three of the levers into the opposite position, then tried again.

"Exscindo Exitus!" The instrument flared brightly for a second time, but this time it didn't go out. The gold suddenly burned white hot in her hand, and Hermione cried out in pain. She tried to drop it but it was as if the metal had seared itself to her hand, stuck there of its own volition.

"Bloody- fucking-" Harry was on his knees in a flash, kneeling over her- he reached forward and attempted to tear the cylinder from her grip, but then it was burning him, too, and he shouted loudly. The pain was growing more intense and beginning to spread from Hermione's palm up her arm, like heat coursing through her veins and filling her entire body. She heard herself scream shrilly and suddenly the bedroom door burst open- their shouts had woken Sirius, and he leapt into the room, wand drawn.

"What the fuck?!" He jumped forward, but Harry was yelling at him not to touch it, and before he had time to figure out what the bloody fuck to do, it became abundantly clear that something was very, very wrong.

The heat had spread all through Hermione's body, now, and started to fade almost as quickly as it had appeared- but with it, a new sensation was replacing it, a sensation that felt frighteningly similar to the crushing dark of Apparition. She looked up at Harry through blurry eyes and knew that he felt it, too, and then suddenly their faces were mirrored expressions of horror- because they were starting to fade.

Sirius leapt onto the bed, shouting, and tried to grab onto some part of either one of them, desperate to anchor them to the room, but it was in vain. Held together by the little gold instrument, Harry and Hermione grew steadily fainter and fainter, their voices growing quieter by the second, until they disappeared entirely and Sirius Black was left alone in Harry's dark bedroom, grasping hopelessly at thin air.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Hermione heard her own voice, and Harry's, growing quieter and quieter as they faded from the bedroom, leaving Sirius behind. The moment he vanished from view completely, they were thrown into complete blackness; it felt like an odd mixture between Apparition and Portkey travel- the darkness around them was crushing, but it was accompanied by the strange sensation of flying backwards very, very fast. They were moving for what felt like hours, clinging to each other's free hands, seared together by the cylinder in their others. Hermione had just begun to accept the fact that she was doomed to an eternity of soaring uncomfortably through space when she was thrown abruptly out of the black and tumbled painfully onto a hard, wooden floor. She yelped in pain when Harry fell heavily on top of her and knocked her breath away- they both laid there, gasping, not even noticing when the cylinder separated from their hands and fell to the floor with a dull thunk. It was only when she heard the sound of a throat clearing softly somewhere above her that Hermione realized she was definitely not in Harry's bedroom anymore.

"Well, well, well," said a delighted voice. "It appears as though one of my inventions has been at least partially successful. Would you care for some tea?"

At the sound of the voice, Harry and Hermione both scrambled backwards in a panic- they were both thoroughly disheveled, wandless, and still in their nightclothes… and realized they were staring into the face of one Albus Dumbledore, very much alive.

NOTE #2: Muahaha! Definitely leave me your thoughts on this one, lovelies! I'm sorry if the writing seems a bit rushed, I wrote this all in one go.