Chapter Twenty-One

Orias had known what was happening up there during the night. He could hear it . . . hell, even as he tried not to, he could smell it. Bloody werewolf senses. He'd been determined to avoid the upstairs, and both of them.

But then Hermione's panicked shouting yanked him out of sleep practically with the bleedin' sunrise, and before he could stop himself he'd bolted to the second floor.

Running on instinct, he'd forgotten about the ward barring the doorway to her room. The barrier knocked him back, returning him to his senses. Giving himself a shake, he peered into the room, strangely more ruffled by the crimson that stained her shoulder and Fenrir's mouth than he was that neither of them had bothered to throw on a stitch of clothing.

He disrupted their shared moment of obvious confusion as he bellowed from the doorway, "You bit her?!"

The pair spun to face him, seeming equally oblivious to their state of undress given the gravity of the situation. "I don't remember doing it!"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears that were a mix of angry and bewildered. "And I don't remember him biting me, either! It's sort of a painful process, I'm pretty sure I'd recall!"

Why was everyone shouting? Even wondering that, however, didn't stop Orias, himself, from bellowing some more as he asked, "Well what the bloody hell else could've happened? You can't leave this room and he's the only one who can get in, remember?"

Her shoulders slumped as she uttered a little rumbling sound in the back of her throat. "No, you . . . daft great thing, you. I know what happened, I just have no idea how it is that neither of us—"

"What is with all this yelling so very early in my . . . ?" Lucius Malfoy's irritated voice cut into the conversation, but almost as abruptly, his words trailed off.

The other three blinked around at each other before looking to the pale-haired wizard. To his credit, Lucius turned his back on the scene even as his eyebrows had shot up at the sight of the naked witch. "And why on earth is Miss Granger nude?" Clearly, he didn't put it past Fenrir Greyback to wander about bare as the day he was born when left alone, but he was relatively certain the Mudblood girl didn't indulge in such—ahem—freedoms of self, as it were.

Hermione glanced at Orias and then Fenrir before dropping her attention to herself. The entire mad scenario had distracted her completely. Emitting a shocked squeak, she crossed the room to snatch up the quilt from the bed and pulled it around herself.

"'Why on earth' is Mr. Malfoy the only one who bothered to say anything?!"

Fenrir and Orias both shrugged, answering in unison. "He's married."

Lucius sighed, shaking his head. "Not sure how much longer that's going to be true."

Again, the other three all turned to gape at him. In spite of herself, Hermione found the words tumbling from her lips, "Are you and Mrs. Malfoy having problems?'

With another sigh, Lucius shook his head as he darted his eyes about, though he still had his back to them. "Honestly? I am not even certain . . . wait, wait." He turned to face them once more, looking at the three of them, in turn. "Oh, no, no," he said with a short chuckle, "this is about whatever little drama is unfolding between the three of you, not anything to do with me."

Fenrir shook his head, a troubled frown marring his features as he went about pulling on his robes. "I don't understand how this could . . . ." He pivoted to pin Hermione with his gaze as he ventured, "Is it possible we were so caught up last night that it happened during and neither of us noticed?"

She winced, raking her gaze across the carpet beneath their feet as she thought back on last night. There were so many sensations that had coursed through her . . . she did remember, however, thinking quite distinctly about pain. It hadn't been the sharp searing of a bite, however.

Could everything else they'd been up to really have masked the feeling?

Meeting Fenrir's gaze, she shrugged. "I don't know, but what other explanation is there?"

"Un-fucking-believable," Orias snapped in an angry growl, turning on his heel and storming off.

Hermione let out a little plaintive whimper as she took a thoughtless step toward the door. "Orias, wait!" Catching herself immediately, she froze. Her expression was so confused it was nearly comical.

Actually, it was comical for Lucius Malfoy, who stood at the doorway, still, observing the scene. Though—despite his prolonged presence in a situation that had nothing to do with him—he showed the good grace to bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

Fenrir held up his finger, unaware of Malfoy's amusement, or even that he continued to hover out there in the corridor. "What the hell was that?"

Once more wincing, she turned to look up at him. She could play dumb and force him to explain, but she knew they were both cognizant of her attempt to keep Orias close, even with what had happened between her and Fenrir last night. She'd thought it herself, after all, hadn't she? That they were like wolves . . . and even as she'd thought that, she was aware of one simple fact about wolves.

They mated for life.

It hadn't scared her. Hadn't made her want to run away. Fenrir had been absolutely correct, it had felt right between them. And yet? The anger in Orias' voice, the pained light that had flickered through his eyes before he'd stormed off tore at her heart. Just as it tore at her heart that Fenrir seemed so upset at her attempt to stop the other werewolf from walking away.

Her brow furrowing, she shook her head, confused tears welling in her eyes as she said, "I've no idea."

Draco held up his hands, stopping just short of the book Harry hurled across the war room. He'd decided he'd let whatever that was that had happened last night slide, and if Potter wanted to revisit that . . . situation, or explain what the hell that had been, then that would be on him.

"Oh. Malfoy, didn't see you there." Harry cleared his throat and looked away, shoving his fists into the pockets of his trousers. "I'd apologize, but, ya know, it's you."

Draco rolled his eyes, stepping further into the room. "Always a delight to be around, you are."

Strolling across the floor—seemingly putting distance between them on purpose—Harry sighed, aware it was probably morning by now. "What're you doing up here, Malfoy?"

Scowling, Draco shook his head. "Oh, like I'm so sure I even want to be up here? Professor McGonagall sent me to find you. You missed breakfast, and she wants us to go have a look at that grave in the daylight . . . as discussed last night, remember? Question is, what're you doing up here? Unless hurling books at the wall was your sole reason."

Now it was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "No. I was looking over that body last night after everyone had gone to bed. I was hoping examining it closely and . . . ." He again cleared his throat, deliberately avoiding mentioning the 'without distractions' part, since Malfoy was the distraction he'd been trying to get away from. "Anyway, I couldn't find anything new, so I thought I'd come up here and see if I could use the map to find out what happened."

Draco nodded, pointing at the aforementioned hurled book on the floor in a gesture of displaying Harry's obviously dashed efforts. "And I take it the map was useless?"

"Oh, it told me something . . . it told me someone didn't want anyone to know what happened to that student."

His brows shooting up as he looked at the map, Draco asked, "You mean it's been charmed?"

"Yeah, and by something I've never encountered. I've tried everything I know to dispel it, and nothing. But . . . then I remembered these books Hermione had up here." Harry tried to hide how much it troubled him, but it was evident in his expression all the same. "They all contain some account or other from the time around our new mystery-friend's death. So far I've found nothing, just as I'm sure Hermione found nothing."

"Yeah, I recall you talking about her recent research, but you can't be saying Granger knew about it. She was taken when the body was found. When would she've had time to compile these books before the werewolf snatched her up?"

Shaking his head, Harry pressed a finger to his lips as he thought. "That's the thing, though, isn't it? I don't think she knew about the body . . . I think she knew something happened out there, and she was investigating it, she just didn't know what it was."

Nodding, Draco flicked his gaze about the room. "The body is that of a partially transformed werewolf, and she was following the professors when they found it. Granger was then kidnapped by werewolves . . . . Could that really be a coincidence?"

"Like I said yesterday, Greyback had some sort of fixation on her. I'm pretty sure his taking her at that moment was more opportunity than intent. He might've planned on taking her when he was breaking out Mulciber all along. But . . . ." Harry's shoulders slumped and his eyes drifted closed as he once again shook his head. "She kept trying to explain to me things about wolf behavior and the influence it might have on werewolves, but I wasn't listening."

"Things like what?"

His eyes snapping open, Harry glared at Malfoy. "I just said I wasn't listening, didn't I?"

"Okay, someone needs no coffee this morning." Holding up his hands in a placating gesture, Draco nodded toward the door at his back. "Maybe you didn't find anything in the war records, maybe this room is hexed to hell, maybe Granger isn't here to tell us what she was looking for. But then maybe there's something in the werewolf research she was doing, yeah? Look into that after we get back from helping the professors investigate the gravesite."

"I'm sorry, you'll have to give me a moment. I'm busy being shocked that you can actually be helpful."

Draco curled his lip in disgust as he turned on his heel and started out the door. "Yeah, I'm the one who's full of surprises. Just get your arse down there."

Harry didn't bother watching him leave. He dropped his gaze back to the scattering of books left around the edge of the map. Yes, he had to get down to the gravesite to assist, but he had this terrible feeling, suddenly.

The werewolves now, the corpse, the magics employed here that were unlike anything he'd ever even heard of. Even whatever it was Hermione'd been talking about regarding the werewolves . . . . It was all connected, he just had no idea how.

Maybe if he'd listened, he would have some better idea what was going on. But that wasn't all that bothered him. Sure, realizing he'd perhaps taken her insights for granted was a hard kick right in the bollocks, but then so was wondering why she'd not mentioned any of this to him.