Chapter 20

Memories of a young Remus Lupin, being infected with lycanthropy, was just one of the many heinous acts that Fenrir Greyback had done.

While Remus had lived, more had died. Greyback had experimented with the age of turning. Infected dead bodies hadn't been something Greyback had desired.

Yet, as Hermione let go of Greyback, she had just learned something far eviler.

Riddle had gained this werewolves' support and loyalty by supplying fresh meat. Not food.

But fresh young flesh wizardly flesh. Sons of those muggle-borns and half-bloods that came from other countries.

The number of young men wasn't large. But enough to concern Hermione.

However, that was for later.

When she wasn't feeling so damn conflicted.

She had to accept that she had just ruthlessly ripped his mind without a second thought. It had almost been too easy to do so.

His death had felt like that of a beast.

His howl of agony abruptly cut off with such speed, that the bout of silence that followed felt too loud.

Hermione opened her eyes as she hugged her midriff. Her heart hurt with pity and sorrow. Her mind was busy, trying to process everything she had seen in his head.

All while something far darker inside of her marveled at the memories.

Shaking her head, she took another step back, tripped over her own feet. It happened too fast to understand.

One second, Hermione was falling, the next, she was being cradled in a strong pair of male arms.

She didn't know the scent or the arms. That should've been her first clue. Anise was a scent she had once smelt, years ago. It brought comfort and solace.

That was also why she didn't fight the person's grip.

Her grandfather had once smelled like this person. And just for one bloody moment, she wanted to take a breather and feel safe.

"You're pushing yourself. But I'm guessing that is something you already know. I understand why you are doing so but I can't and won't stand by while you do this to yourself."

Hermione's eyes watered at his tone. Frank spoke the truth. A pang of anger and frustration shot through her.

"Tis not like I have other options. I don't have anybody to trust. Not that I've gone out of my way to do so. But I'm here, alone with no idea who to turn to for help."

...

Frank took a step back, balancing her weight effortlessly.

He turned her away from the dead wolf and casually cleaned the area in front of the open door.

Frank stared at the girl, little more than nineteen, with skin so pale as the moon. She looked damn fragile sitting down on the floor. He studied her face and movements, as she tried to hide her trembling.

He thought back on what Alice had asked of him. His fierce and loving wife had asked him to stand at the girl's side.

His wife's words had been clear and straightforward.

"I don't wish for her to suffer the same way I did. Years ago, I had to accept the inevitable."

Frank had known his wife would take one look at this little warrior of girl and see herself from years ago. Not the same yet Alice's words spoke for the girl.

While Hermione Granger had come from another world, alone and hurt, it was the fire within her that had caught Alice's eyes.

Alice had once felt wrong for her darker urges when it came to her job and personality.

Frank had fallen for his lethal wife from the first time he had seen her. Since then, he had been with her as she grew as a person. Together as a couple, and as parents.

But that wasn't why he felt the urge to help.

His wife had her reasons. He had his own.

His were more complex.

This girl, who had come out of nowhere, had such tragic eyes. The colour of firewhiskey only made it more heartbreaking.

Those eyes had hunted him for the last couple of days.

Hermione Granger had the same coloured eyes as one he had once known and loved with every inch of his being. Alice had too. Just as he understood her reason, she understood his.

He didn't want this girl alone in a world that was strange and unknown to her.

Frank wanted to give her a sound foundation to stand on. A helping and trusting hand that wouldn't stab her in the back.

It was selfish on his part. It was Alice's need to command and lead.

It was for themselves and their need to make up for what they had once failed.

Frank reached into his pocket, fingering the object he carried with him at all times.

"I have my reasons for helping you, Hermione Granger. The reason is personal and selfish," The reminder was like a jagged edge of glass slicing through his heart once more. "It is a fatherly and motherly feeling. A need only a parent could understand. But know that I won't betray you. My wife won't either. So lean on us when you need to step back and breathe. There is no reason for you to be alone, Hermione Granger."

…

Hermione froze.

The sheer honesty in his face and voice were a surprise. It was unexpected and not wholly unwelcome. But in a way, his words had cracked her iron will to keep her distance from others.

The darkness inside settled, her magic gentled towards this man and his wife, who wasn't here to witness it.

Logically, they were both the perfect people for her to open up to. She held no bais notions towards them since she had never met their counterparts.

"I want to trust what you say. I do. But I need to know why. Because when it comes down to it, it's the reason why I don't want to be close to others. The history of them and those that had been close to the other Hermione Granger."

A thoughtful look came over his scarred face. But it wasn't fast enough to hide the edge of guilt and pain in his eyes.

"That is understandably a good reason to question my actions and those of others," he shifted and pulled out his hand from his pocket.

In his hand was a shiny gold pocket watch. He leaned towards Hermione, showing her the engraved names on it.

Neville

Lyra

Children of Our Heart

Frank opened the pocket watch and turned it around so she could see the picture on the left.

"Alice and I noticed that you never mentioned her. Not even when you first spoke with our son. When you told everybody what had happened to us in your world, we knew why. She was Neville's twin. My sweet Lyra Irene. Riddle murdered her the same night he killed Lily Potter."

Shocked into silence, Hermione could only stare at the picture.

It was a wizardly picture, taking close up of a prettily dressed baby girl. Lyra Longbottom. The name was strange to Hermione. Unknown and tragic.

The baby in the picture had a dark cap of wavy hair and wide eyes that matched the laughing smile on her face.

Finally being able to talk, Hermione gently smiled.

"She was beautiful."

"That she was."

Hermione shuddered, breaking the moment and forcing Frank to move from his crouched position.

"You need to rest. Let me deal with Greyback. What were you planning to do with him?"

Hermione clenched her jaw, fighting the oncoming headache. "I was going to kill him and drop his body off in the Ministry."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "That would take care of the body. I'll take it and call it in with Mad-Eye. Alice will come so that you're not alone."

"Is that necessary?"

He shrugged and turned towards Greyback's corpse. "I think you need a helping hand around here. But with the number of extra hands in this house, you won't need more. What you need is an experienced person who will watch your back while you rest."

Not one to argue with such logic, she instead focused on standing on her own. Her knees popped, bringing on a rare blush to her cheeks. Thankfully Frank didn't comment on that as he used his wand to bundle up Greyback.

She used the door, making sure her legs weren't also trembling. Assuming that they weren't, she let go of the door and felt her knees buckle.

Before she could hit the floor, rough hands slid around her waist, stopping her from sliding to the floor.

The darkness in Hermione flared with a vengeance. A gasp escaped her lips as she recognized the person.

"Malfoy, take her upstairs to the Master bedroom. Alice will be here to help with anything that needs tending to," Frank walked by them, heading towards the door, but paused as he locked eyes with the man holding Hermione.

"I'm not all that sure of you yet, so know this. If you harm a hair on her head, I'll make sure you regret it."

It said a lot about Malfoy in that he didn't reply with scorn or insult.

"I have no reason to harm her."

"Very well. I'll be back later, Hermione, so take it easy until then."

He left silently, leaving behind Hermione in the arms of who could still be an enemy.

Or so she would like to tell herself.

Because, while the deepening darkness in her wanted Malfoy with a fierce pang of hunger, her mind was telling her to be careful of him.

Hermione had to admit, at least to herself, that she was damn intrigued with him. But she was no weak little twit to get distracted by a man. No matter how much her body wanted him.

"Before you try to say you can make it up the stairs on your own, let me remind you that your arse almost hit the floor a second ago."

Hermione glared at the door. "I wasn't going to say anything of that sort. I was only going to say that I need to speak with everybody before retiring for the day."

"Right." A slip of pure arrogance in just that one word made her jaw clench in irritation.

Hermione turned, making sure to step on his boot covered foot with her heel. "I'm not something you want to play with, Malfoy," she whispered as she faced him. His arms tightened around her waist.

His grey eyes glinted with something that wasn't safe.

"I don't intend to play with you. I know not yet what I want of you." There was no playful light in his eyes. Nothing but her own emotions reflected at her.

Hermione looked away first and offered no protest as he swung her up onto his arms, his chest a wall of warm muscles.

Her floating lights followed them, illuminating their way as they went back up the stone stairs.

All the while, being very aware of each other. Of the heat and whatever lay between them.

When they reached the top of the stairs, she spoke.

"Did you hate her? The other Hermione Granger?"

Hermione felt his arms tense. He paused and took a long moment to reply.

"I didn't know her. I stayed away from her due to her friendship with Potter and Weasley. When HE came back, I didn't so much as look at her. He took notice of her right away and I didn't wish to add to that."

Hermione raised her head and waited for him to lower his gaze to hers.

"But did you hate her kind? I am a muggle-born. Born of two muggles. Charles Granger and Marie Granger. Simple and loving parents. Unlike hers," Hermione wasn't sure why she kept pushing him.

She licked her top lip, drawing his gaze to it for a split second. "Let me rephrase that. Do you still believe all muggle-borns are dirty blood?"

He blinked and slowly shook his head. "I never did believe in my father's rants. My mother didn't either. Especially since my aunt married one."

Something inside Hermione uncoiled.

"I see."

She looked away from him. Malfoy continued walking. It wasn't long until they came into a semi-clean living room.

The room was full of people, most of whom were cleaning the dusty room.

The couches and armchairs that had been hidden under white clothes were now being spelled clean.

Harry noticed them first. He was by one of the large arched windows, the curtains pushed to the side to let in some light. Harry's eyes narrowed when they landed on them.

The others noticed his reaction. They all turned to look at them.

Malfoy didn't hesitate and neared one of the armchairs. He gently sat her down, sliding his left behind her back slowly across her hips.

Dalilah and Luna came close, both of them being the closest to them. Malfoy stepped back, avoiding the stares from the Slytherin girls.

Luna reached out and touched Hermione's face.

"You are pale, Hermione. Whatever you have done with Greyback must have set you back." Coarse words that continued to shock Hermione.

"I know. I plan to rest for the rest of the day," she glanced at Dalilah, who had reached for a lock of Hermione's hair.

"I'll need you to watch over them until Alice comes. The house needs cleaning, and if I'm correct, we'll be using this place as Headquarters. The house contains six rooms aside from the master. Help them choose rooms for the night. We'll straighten it all out tomorrow."

Dalilah tugged the lock of hair trapped between her fingers. "Consider it done. I'll send this female with you so she can clean the master for you. Rest, Hermione Granger."

Hermione nodded her thanks. She turned her head and spoke to the others in the room.

"For tonight, just rest. I'm sure the Order will come by with whatever you'll need until tomorrow."

Hermione turned her head to the side, speaking now to Malfoy. "Take me to the master room, Malfoy."

He didn't hesitate. In a powerful move of muscle, he swept Hermione up and into his arms. She couldn't help her instinct to hold on to his neck with one arm.

She didn't miss the slight tension in several people's faces. But that was for later. She could barely hold herself up without wanting to close her eyes.

Malfoy turned and walked into the hallway that led to the stairs.

"It'll be on the second floor, right across from the stairs."

He only nodded.

Luna passed them, lighting up the way with her wand. Hermione forced her eyes to stay open. She was battling sleep and weakness with pure will.

It only took a minute to reach the master bedroom.

Luna opened the door and was quick with wand movements, cleaning everything.

The room was mostly bare, except for a large bed in the centre of the room. The wall to the left was dominated by an arched window, which Luna quickly uncovered.

Some light helped bring the room into focus.

Malfoy walked towards the bed, and Luna made a move as if to clean it when alarm passed through Hermione.

"Wait, Luna, aren't you underage?"

Luna stopped and looked over her shoulder at Hermione. Clear eyes swirled with something...funny.

"I'm seventeen. Turned just two weeks."

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "Sorry, in the other world, you were a year behind me. With Ginny."

Sadness in eyes that were covered by a thin film of smoke. "I was Ginny's friend. But even I hadn't seen the torment in her. I'm in the same year as Harry."

Hermione kept her thoughts to herself. Even as Malfoy laid her down, Hermione was already drifting into sleep.

Away from everything and into a nightmare.

Thank you for reading. I hope you like this chapter. I had to cut it since it was way too long and just wasn't right. But I'll be posing the next chapter soon.

Thank you for being patient with me!

I'll reply back to the comments in the next chapter.

Vanee