Hermione woke up to the overpowering smell of urine and blood.
It seemed to come from every corner of the Shrieking Shack, including the one where she'd stashed her clean clothes the night before. There was a pile of splinters where the stained sofa used to be that smelled no better. It was her own skin that reeked worst of all, though. She gagged a little before remembering to breathe through her mouth.
Hermione tried to lift her head, but it felt like a iron weight was closing around her neck. Instead, she pried her eyes open and saw angry gashes, dozens of them crisscrossing her torso and legs. They'd stopped bleeding for the most part, but there was a group of five jagged lines stretching from wrist to bicep on the inside of her arm that still had little red drops oozing and dripping to the floor. The muscles in that arm shuddered when she tried to push herself up, and she collapsed under her own weight.
Surprisingly though, it was a strange sense of loneliness that was worse than the physical pain and disgust. She'd noticed something similar the last time she woke up in the shack; the dominant emotion her feline form had felt the night before lingered both times. Last month, she woke up still terrified of a wolf in her space. This time, she had a gnawing sensation of being incomplete, like there was a part of her missing.
That was ridiculous, of course. She was probably just missing a pint of blood, more like.
Madam Pomfrey will come soon with blood replenishing potions, she thought, slowly inching herself into a ball against the freezing December temperatures. The sun was barely up, but Hermione could still see her breath coming out in puffs through the light cracking through the walls.
While she waited, she listened to the world outside. Her sensitive hearing could pick up the crinkling sound of ice crystals compressing in the giant snow drifts around the shack, a herd of centaurs picking their way around the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and… wait.
Someone was running, full speed, towards the shack from the Whomping Willow entrance. It was so loud, she wondered how she hadn't heard it before. To Hermione, it sounded exactly like someone who ran because they knew the shack was occupied, and why.
Hermione's heart started to race. Neither Madam Pomfrey nor Professor McGonagall would be running like that, and no one else should know she was here except the Maruaders, who had all left on the Hogwarts Express days ago. Had someone pieced together her condition so easily? Remus had years of hiding his lycanthropy, but maybe she was too new and slipped up somehow. It felt like the walls were caving in on her.
Her wand was on the other side of the room, tucked under a floorboard to prevent her snapping it during the chaotic night. She was naked as the day she was born, and even if she could move, her clothes were shredded and covered in blood and piss. If someone wanted to kill her, they'd picked the perfect opportunity.
She threw up her best (truly pathetic) wandless shield just before the runner reached the door, and squeezed her eyes tightly.
"HERMIONE-" Remus' voice hollered, the rest of him hurtling into the room and stopping at the edge of her poorly-made shield. "Oh Merlin, Hermione." He stepped over the invisible barrier easily and knelt at her side, shrugging off his oversized shirt to cover her. "You look awful. Can I help? Can you move?"
Hermione shook her head, weakly, and cracked an eye open to look him over. "Did it work?"
Remus pressed his lips together and nodded rapidly, a smile threatening to overwhelm him. "Look," he said, flipping his arms front to back. There wasn't a single scratch marring his skin.
The corners of Hermione's lips lifted as her eyes slipped closed again. She'd done it.
"I'm not sure where on earth Madam Pomfrey is," Remus muttered, "I flooed in through the hospital wing hoping to find you there, then ran all the way down here when I saw you weren't. Didn't see her once. Weird. Ok Hermione, I'm going to bring you back to the castle now, alright?"
She didn't have the energy left for more than a soft hum. Moments later, she was immobilized and they were on their way. It was then Hermione realized the sense of overwhelming loneliness was gone.
"It was like being able to catch my breath for the first time," Remus explained after Madam Pomfrey had finished fussing over them both. The mediwitch had peppered Remus with questions since they stumbled in. She poked and prodded his scarless arms and swollen nose ("I punched myself so I wouldn't gag in front of Hermione!" he kept explaining), trying to run tests while they let Hermione sleep. He didn't leave her side while she slept through the morning, changing her dressings and applying salves as necessary, even though his own spinal transformation scars should have been screaming in pain.
Now that she was awake, he sat in a chair he'd pulled up beside her bed and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging in frustration. He tried again. "Can you even imagine what it was like? It was... like not needing an oxygen tank to go scuba diving. No, it was more like when you go Hogsmead and- oh, right, you've never been to Hogsmead. Um…"
"It's alright, Remus," Hermione said, smiling. "I've hardly had to spend any time transforming, so I imagine it'd be just like what I used to experience all the time."
"No," he said, shaking his head so hard, tufts of hair stuck up in the back, "because you always knew what that was like. This was as if I were color blind and you showed me a rainbow, or had never tasted chocolate and you brought me to Honeydukes and handed me a hundred galleons."
His eyes were closed and a small smile played on his lips. Hermione was amazed at how much peace she felt just watching him relive the past night's surprise. The sunlight now filtered in through the large window, and combined with his joy, he looked younger than she'd ever seen him.
"I just had to come see you as soon as the sun rose. To apologize for not believing you, mostly. I'm sorry, really."
Hermione waved the apology away with her good arm, her bad one still acting as a bookmark in Hogwarts: A History. "I would have been just as suspicious if it were you. Honestly, don't worry about it."
"But I have to make it up to you! You don't know how grateful I am, and-"
"Remus, I think we're even, since you brought me here. Who knows what was taking Madam Pomfrey so long, but I'm glad you were there so I didn't bleed out. Plus, you're my friend and I wanted to help you. Can we just leave it at that?"
Remus's eyebrows knitted together in surprise. "Friends?"
"Of course! What else would we be?" she asked, stomping down any hope that tried to float to the surface.
"Right. Of course. Friends," Remus repeated, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down. "I just... I treated you like crap recently. Never thought you'd be ok with being friends again."
Hermione looked at him. "Remus, you're a good person. I can tell."
Remus just shook his head and scowled.
"You are! You take care of your friends and you revise for your exams and you even chew with your mouth closed." She threw in the last one to make him smile, but his lips stayed in a long, solemn line. She sighed.
"You really want to make it up to me?"
His eyes flew up to meet hers and he stared, earnestly. "Anything."
Hermione gulped, caught off guard by his intensity, but continued, "You could go downstairs and ask Flopsy if she'd make us a lava cake, then see if you can sneak it past Madame Pomfrey."
He threw her a grin as his chair scraped against the floor. As he darted out of the hospital wing, the wind from his burst of speed causing the pages in Hogwarts: A History to flutter forward to a picture of a dark wizard, his wand raised in a way that looked like he was about to curse the reader.
Shuddering, Hermione slammed the book shut.
When Madame Pomfrey finally cleared her from the hospital wing, Hermione went straight to her room to begin packing. Even if it was another two days before the Evans would pick her up at King's Cross, she couldn't wait.
Well, she could wait for some parts. Meeting the horrid woman Harry had to call "Aunt Petunia" wasn't something she particularly wanted to do, nor was visiting the dreary place Sirius once said they grew up. But it meant spending time with Lily, and she could get through the less pleasant bits for her sake.
It was once she'd chosen which books she absolutely needed on her holidays that she noticed a beautiful barred owl pecking at her window.
"Well come inside," she said, pulling the glass pane quickly shut against the cold once the bird hopped in. "What have you got for me?"
In the great owl's talons was a finely wrapped scroll, sealed with the official ring of Hogwart's Deputy Headmistress. Perplexed, Hermione slipped it open and began to read.
"My dear Hermione,
I'd apologize for not being able to stay through the Christmas holidays, but Miss Evans informs me you'll be joining her family at a later date. I'm glad to see you making friends here and wisely allowing them to help you.
I would also inquire as to the status of your research? Have you finished the book I lent you, for starters? I don't pretend to know how dire the situation is in this particular year, but I must entreat you not to waste time simply improving your N.E.W.T. scores. This time surely wasn't chosen by accident.
You know, of course, that I would be happy to help if you should need anything, and that my library (or the majority of it) is at your disposal.
Wishing you the happiest of Christmases,
Minerva"
A trickle of guilt slid down Hermione's spine. It wasn't like she'd forgotten that this wasn't her original time. Not having anything to wear to Lily's house other than a single, borrowed pair of bell-bottom jeans and a tight, plaid jumper made sure of that. There had just been so much else to deal with, between Remus and the moons, that the end of wizarding kind seemed less imminent.
Stupid, Hermione, she said as she kicked herself and added one more book into her new bag with an undetectable extension charm. Looks like this Christmas, she'd be working overtime in the research department. Hopefully, it would be dull enough at the Evan's house that no one would mind if she took an hour here or there to 'work on homework.' As long as Lily's excessive Christmas spirit could be contained, Hermione might be able to figure out a plan to run by Minerva, or at least the first few steps of it, by New Year's.
A/N: You lovely, lovely readers. Thank you for sticking with this story. I'm only still writing because I know some of you out there are reading it.
Please share what parts are working for you and what parts seem to need work. I'm also at a fork in the road, plotting down at chapter twenty. Knowing the characters and plotlines you guys like best will help me decide where to take it. Thank you in advance. :)
Also, to the guest back in MAY (I'm so, so sorry) who asked how often this story updates, the answer is whenever I can fight my anxiety enough. This summer hasn't been great, so far. But in the meantime, you should check out Stages by SableUnstable if you haven't already. She updates about as frequently as I do, but her writing is many, many times better.
