[Author's Note] Thank you to everyone who sticks by this writer even as I battle the saga that is school work. I had a lull in my normally busy schedule this week and found the time to put this chapter together while also starting the rough draft of my newest Fenmione, Zig Instead of Zag. It hasn't been published yet but I look forward to sharing the first chapter after I complete Wolf Island.

Hermione was running, her legs aching as she tried to escape her pursuers. It didn't matter, a voice inside her head whispered. They were going to catch her. There was no where she could go. She looked back and saw six giant wolves getting closer and closer. Their red eyes glowed through the darkness. The shadows of her surroundings cast a heavy a blanket on her senses. It was disorienting. There was no way to tell what direction she was running nor did she know how she could evade them.

She fell and the wolves descended, devouring her.

Hermione awoke from the nightmare shaking with terror. She tried to sit upright but found herself restrained against a metal bed. Tight leather straps bound her head, arms, legs and chest against the cold surface. And to her concern, secured to her forearm was a steady IV drip whose contents looked of questionable origin. Hermione panicked and made several futile attempts against the restraints but recoiled at the pain evoked by the movement. Each tug of her arm against the restraint shot excruciating fire up her limbs that radiated across her body and forced a cry from her lips. Her vision was blurred but slowly she regained enough of her senses to see the dark room she was in resembled a medical wing.

It was empty and devoid of any light save the unnatural hue of glowing green potions illuminating the nearby shelves and a dim enchanted lantern that floated around the space. Her thoughts went to Fenrir and another surge of panic rose within as she tried to remember what had happened to him.

But it was pointless. Hermione had no way of knowing what befell of Fenrir any more than she knew what had happened to herself. She prayed that he had survived but there was a deep sickening in the pit of her stomach at the uncertainty. A part of her refused to believe that he was dead but Hermione wondered if this was merely a denial of the likelihood, a means to postpone her own guilt of putting him in danger or avoid the threat of mounting grief.

Grief. Her heart hurt at the thought of Fenrir's death.

"He's alive," she said the words aloud as though to banish the dark thoughts from her mind. However the sound she made was less intelligible and more of an undignified croak. Regardless it broke the spell of dark thoughts and Hermione began to formulate what her next steps needed to be.

I need to get free and then I can find him, after that we find the emergency portkey and get the hell out here, Hermione thought and the plan seemed so straightforward in her mind. There were of course several glaring details that blocked her path. Hermione's wand was nowhere to be found (she made several attempts of "accio wand!" before concluding the wand was long gone). Secondly even if she wasn't restrained Hermione was not sure she could physically move within any speed or strength. Not only did her body hurt, but her skin felt clammy and she wasn't sure if the lethargy she felt was due to whatever was in the IV or something else entirely.

Hermione eyed the IV still steadily dripping into her arm and she worried about what was being put into her. And then she retraced her last memory, recalling the infected werewolves leaping upon before she succumbed to unconsciousness.

Her arms were scratched from the fall but Hermione shifted against the metal bed and realized that her true injury was on her back. She felt the bandage there and the source of the overwhelming heat radiating through her body.

Hermione let out a horrified gasp as she realized she had been likely bit by one of the werewolves.

I'm infected, she thought. Her mind began to race with what this meant. Would she become like them? If so, how long did she have? Hermione thought of her fate as becoming one of the rabid creatures and shuddered at the vision.

"Oh good, you're waking up. Welcome to the land of the living, Ms. Granger," suddenly there came an unfamiliar voice from the darkness. Hermione jerked her head to the side and immediately regretted the movement as it drove knives of pain into her skull. Entering the far corner of the room stood a figure, his white lab coat tinged with the green glow of the potions behind him.

He turned on the lights and Hermione winced in pain as the stark fluorescent lighting revealed the full interior of the room.

"What did you do to me?" The words came tumbling off her lips before she could think of something more adequate to say to the stranger, like where was she and how did he know her name.

The man bore gray hair trimmed short and a well-trimmed beard and mustache. He looked to be in his sixties, his olive skin worn with wrinkles. Two dark brown eyes stared at Hermione behind a set of thick black rimmed glasses.

He didn't seem to pay any mind to her question, merely touched her forehead as though she were an inanimate object. A specimen for him to examine. His fingers felt like ice against her skin. "Interesting," he murmured.

"Don't touch me," she snapped and the violence in her voice was enough to give the man pause. In truth Hermione was caught off guard by how foreign it sounded coming from her. It was absolutely feral.

"You seem to be responding well to the treatment," he said plainly. The man pulled up a stool to where Hermione laid but as he did so he let the metal of the chair grind against the floor, causing a screech that made Hermione wince.

"What did you do to me?" Hermione repeated, forcing her voice to be level.

The man said nothing for several long minutes and his black eyes were transfixed on Hermione. She looked back at him expecting to see nothing but madness but was more disturbed by the calm focus she saw instead.

"You are participating in the next step of evolution. But really you should thank me, Ms. Granger. If not for my doing you would have been nothing more than a little snack for my pets," he said. "Lucky for you I haven't been able to test my potion on a female subject so may I just say thank you for your contribution to science."

"Contribution? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME!" She yelled and the effort wracked her whole body with agonizing pain. Her voice echoed against the austere walls of the medical room.

"Calm down please," he said. "I can't have you hurting yourself and damaging the process. You will see soon enough. And please pardon my lack of manners, it has been awhile since I have had human company and I must be a little rusty. Would you like some water, perhaps? Ever since my pets got out of hand the facility has been a very different place you see. I have had to speed up my schedule. But your arrival on the island couldn't have happened at a better time. History is being made and you get to be a part of it. Isn't that exciting?"

He made a waving motion to the space around them. "This, this is the real Wolf Island. And I-"

"You're Warden Connelly," she said as Hermione put the pieces together. The warden hadn't fallen victim to deranged werewolves after all. He was using them, walling himself off in the main facility to conduct his experiments.

He frowned and was clearly not pleased at being interrupted.

"I prefer Dr. Connelly; I worked hard for my education as I am sure a bright witch such as yourself can appreciate."

"I would appreciate it if you removed these restraints," Hermione said with thinly veiled hatred.

"Hmm, not yet I'm afraid." The wizard looked down at his watch before looking at the IV and adding "I would give the potion another 20 minutes to work its way into your system. If all goes according to plan you will be my second success. The first being Mr. Greyback, of course."

"Fenrir...Where is he?" She blurted, no longer caring about her own wellbeing at the mention of the werewolf. Dr. Connelly smiled, amused by her reaction. She did not like his response and feared the worst.

"What if I were to tell you he died during your capture?" Dr. Connelly asked and a grim shadow passed across his face.

"No…" she whispered and felt as though her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces.

"Interesting reaction," Dr. Connelly studied her for a moment, the smile slowly returning to his lips as he reached out and pushed aside a strand of hair that was clinging to her face. The gesture was strangely paternal but Hermione jerked away from the touch, her eyes burning with fury. He was toying with her and something primal and angry within her boiled to the surface. She snarled and might have bit his hand if her head had not been restrained. Hermione couldn't tell if it was her own anger or the infection taking hold but as each moment passed she found it hard to think past her emotions.

The wizard was unphased with Hermione's reaction. "You should be relieved to know that he was alive, at least the last time I checked on him. Greyback, my finest work, and he nearly slipped through the cracks. Can you believe it...I thought my experiment had been a failure with him but really he was the key to unlocking it all."

Hermione was trying to focus on the doctor's words but her vision suddenly was growing blurry again. The pain that rippled through her bones was unlike anything she had ever felt and it stole the air from her lunges even as she let out a desperate scream.

Dr. Connelly made a shushing sound and Hermione could hear him speaking softly even as the pain sent her into a sea of oblivion. "You want to know what I learned? Anyone can make a monster but to make a weapon you need something special. Unique, Ms. Granger. Do you understand? An alpha. "

Hermione was desperate to end the pain, to know what was happening to her and to see Fenrir again. But the questions that swirled into her mind slipped away as she lost consciousness.

And then there was only darkness again.

Elsewhere Fenrir paced the interior of a steel room, growing more agitated with each passing minute. By now most of his injuries had healed save but the newest additions to the tapestry of scars on his body. But Fenrir didn't care about any of it. He could sense Hermione's pain as clearly as though it had been inflicted upon himself and that was what troubled him. He needed to get to her but how? Fenrir knew he was inside the main facility, recognizing the austere room as similar to the one he had occupied during the experiments. Fenrir closed his eyes and tried to visualize the layout of the site. If he was lucky Hermione was in the same wing but if not he wasn't sure where else they would be keeping her. And then the trouble of finding the warden's office where the emergency portkey would be stored. It's on the second floor, he thought to himself, trying to recall its location from distant memory. But it might as well be in Egypt if he didn't find a way out the room first.

Fenrir kicked the door to the room with a violent thud but the metal did not even so much as dent under his assault. Just as he paced another lap around the room's edge he heard a sound that pierced his heart: It was Hermionescreaming.

No.

The shift between man to wolf came unbidden, the creature within him stirred to life under Fenrir's pure fear of Hermione's wellbeing. Already more wolf than man, Fenrir howled and the sound was deafening in the small room.

He would get to her even if he had to tear down the building brick by brick.