A/N: Since this is a Norah chapter, and this character has a trash mouth (not that I regret writing her this way, I think it's part of her rough-around-the-edges charm) slight warning ahead for some minor coarse language.


CHAPTER NINETY-NINE

Norah did not bother to stifle her gasp of surprise at the devastation that lay in wait for her the second the soles of her black leather boots touched down on Hogwarts Grounds.

The crumbling stone of the majestic castle lay ash-like on the ground, a speck of cold dust over every blade of grass and leaf.

There it would stay until the wind carried it away and the threat of rain would come, if those storm clouds above her head were any indication, to wash every little thing clean.

Images of dead Hogwarts students, all sixth and seventh years, all of legal age and had been willing to lay down their lives to fight, had done just that.

The students laid like lifeless dolls over the grass, the enchantments long since vanished, their limbs at awkward angles, their heads held in such a way they could not be sleeping.

These bodies, once the repositories of people as alive as Norah currently was, were now abandoned shells left to rot in the open.

Dead was permanent, from which there was no coming back from unless you chose to exist after this life as a ghost, which Norah did not want for herself.

Dead was forever. Dead was better.

Dead was when the spark in the eyes became extinguished, yet unlike fires burning, was utter without smoke.

Though Norah had no time to mourn for these lives of these kids lost too soon, at the moment, the thick scent of melted paint and scorched wood and stone entered her nose.

Her vision became blurred, hazy at the edges, as black spots danced in her vision, and smoke began to fill her lungs.

She couldn't see a bloody few feet in front of her.

All she could hear was the sound of someone shouting at those few precious Hogwarts students who were still alive that had not already evacuated, shouting at them to Disapparate immediately (apparently the ban had been lifted) and go home—was it Snape?

"You… ...all…leave…once…now…go…exit...understand?"

It was him, alright. There was no mistaking that droll baritone.

Briefly, Norah met Professor Snape's gaze, who startled, seemingly surprised to see her there, given their last initial encounter had not been exactly a pleasant one, though he was the first to recover, a look of indifference on his face and reverted to the same manner of impossible telepathy that Ollie used in order to communicate quickly with her.

The young blonde werewolf tensed, feeling her entire body stiffen, and she fully prepared for the sallow-faced, raven-haired Potions Professor to raise his wand against her in anger for the savage mess she had made of his classroom that night in retaliation against what she had done to him—jinxing him to the point of causing him to lose consciousness when his head hit the wall, and then turning Umbridge like her.

Merlin only knew how many of the wizarding communities laws she had broken, and she had fully been expecting the job offer she had received from Minister Rufus Scrimgeour himself to be rescinded and taken to prison in chains.

But it had not come.

Severus murmured something under his breath, causing Norah to blink owlishly at the greasy-haired Professor, pulling herself out of her swirling thoughts, which at this point in time, were irrelevant to her mission.

Norah gave a curt nod, closing her eyes as she listened to Severus's message.

Lord Voldemort was dead, Harry and the others alive, thank Merlin, no one that they knew was dead (yet), their bodies not recovered, as a search for anyone left alive was under commencement by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Professors Flitwick, Slughorn, and her own former Head of House, Professor McGonagall conducting the search, but the castle still remained under siege from what few straggling Death Eaters were left.

Fenrir Greyback, it was rumored, among them, and had attacked a young girl, Lavender Brown, and had killed her, though it was rumored he was still here.

That was all Norah could hear, and all she needed to know, heading for the roof, as she sprinted into a run up the Grand Staircase, for a moment, she saw the flames burn with colors she never thought regular fire even capable of.

With each flare as the flames grew higher, she knew Hogwarts was on fire, and no amount of water from any Augamenti Charm would be enough to put it out.

Norah was the only one who appeared to be heading to the roof of the castle, wheezing, coughing, and desperate for air as her vision threatened to leave her.

She couldn't afford to black out, not right bloody now.

Though before she could reach the door that led out onto the roof, near the Astronomy Tower, Norah thought, if she'd gone in the right direction, when she could no longer see where she was going, she collapsed to the floor before she could make it, thinking it wasn't fair she was dying of smoke inhalation, of all things.

If she were to die tonight, let her go out in the throes of battle, though Fate, this cruel bastard without a face, had a different idea in mind for her, as she suddenly felt a pain that wasn't sharp like needlepoint or a knife, and she felt it burn her insides like she was taking a shower in boiling hot, excruciating water.

Norah barely managed to make it to the roof, but when she did, she felt a piercing pain go down her leg.

And when she looked down, all she saw was her leg burning, blackened and charred.

"Fuck," she growled through gritted teeth, hissing the curse word.

No amount of magic or salve from Madame Pomfrey would fix this…

She squeezed her eyes shut and bit down hard on her tongue to keep from screaming.

She almost would have preferred being killed. Anything but this.

For a moment, Norah could not remember why she had come to Hogwarts, and then, as if by witch's curse, as the fog lifted for a moment from her eyes, she remembered why.

Because she did not want to see Ollie and explain her disappearance these last nine months. It was too painful for her to rehash memories she'd rather soon forget.

She wanted to bury them forever.

Norah had chickened out. She'd come to the edge of the woods that rested just behind the Lupins' cottage, intent on revealing herself to Tonks, Remus, though it was the kid she had truly come to see. She had promised Tonks…

And in the end, she could not do it. She'd lingered, meditating like Death, hidden behind the boughs of an old oak tree.

She was petite enough that she slipped behind it undetected, though her slightly pointed ears had perked up the moment she heard Ollie's voice cut through the tree line, dripping with anger.

Norah had perfected her Occlumency to avoid Ollie reading her mind and discovering she was there in secret, spying, wishing things were different.

Norah clenched her eyes shut, trying to block out how hurt he had sounded earlier when he said her name.

Anger, thet antagonized hurt, and…and…heartbreak, Norah thought, dejected.

She had not been able to reveal herself to either one of them, too afraid.

Coward, that's what I am, she thought violently through gritted teeth, Disapparating the moment she got Professor Snape's message that Hogwarts was now threatened.

Norah, upon finally making it to the roof of the distinguished castle, marveled at the dismay and destruction that met her eyes below. Utter chaos.

Giants had lain waste to the courtyard, she swore dragons flew overheard, the thunderous flapping of their wings.

Acromantula hissed and lunged at a few witches casting spells in every direction.

In the sky, the bellowing roar of a dragon, a Hungarian Horntail, could be heard.

She'd be surprised if Charlie Weasley weren't heading the attack, from what she'd known of the man from stories.

Hogwarts was ravaged, the courtyard below practically a skeleton, stripped of its flesh long ago by the devastation Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters caused.

The Grounds over the way were still burning, as was the edge of the Forest. The smoke-filled air intermingled with that of the fires burning caused the atmosphere to become blood-red.

There was no shortage of blood that congealed and browned, Norah thought, her heightened wolfish senses on alert.

The very air that was forced into her lungs, albeit reluctantly, was pungent with the odor of the recently deceased, and no one could figure out how they had earned this one-way ticket to Hell, but if she was to die tonight, then she was going to take Greyback and any other Death Eater she could manage, with her.

Norah slowly opened her tired eyes, albeit with great difficulty, barely managing to limp her way to the very edge of the Astronomy Tower, letting her legs dangle precariously over the edge, not giving a damn anymore if she fell off of.

The ravaged courtyard and hundreds of dead bodies littered on the Grounds below met Norah Jameson's wolfish sight, and Norah was forced to remind herself, there was nothing that she could do, and she was clouded now with this fucking disability.

Almost as if to remind her of the fact that she had been careless, the pain throbbed in her leg.

"Goddamn, Merlin's left nutsack, fuck, this really hurts," she growled, whisper-hissing her words through clenched teeth, the edges of her lips pulling backwards as she let out a hiss of pain as the fabric of her ruined black jeans accidentally brushed against her burn.

At least no one was up here to hear her curse, so she had that relatively small amount of comfort, at least.

The pain throbbed in her leg, deep and warm, but not in that nice way that would eventually lead to numbing where, someone could cut it off and she wouldn't feel a damn thing, oh, no. This was worse. Much, much worse.

It felt like someone had their hand-wound tightly around the nerves in her leg, which, by this point, thanks to the fire was blackened, almost charred.

When the sensation of that invisible hand squeezing onto the nerves, the tendons of her leg had waned, Norah could move closer to the edge of the ledge of the Astronomy Tower's roof.

When it returned in full force, she could only hold still and breathe, breathe deep and slow with a fool's prayer of hoping it went away.

If it weren't for the fact that she was waiting for Greyback to show his hairy, ugly mug and confront her, then she would just…let herself slide right off this damned ledge, where the cloaked hooded figure of Death would greet her below once her broken, scorched body hit the cobblestones of the courtyard.

To allow Death to take her away into the next life would be a sweet relief from this pain, to hold her hand like an old friend. To see her son again. Her husband again.

Waiting for her, but…

Norah had a feeling her wounds would not grant her even that courtesy. She moved a tired hand to rest on her multiple wounds, her burnt leg the worst of them, though the blood soaking through the side of her black shirt was more than enough cause for concern.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling…useless. Weak.

Norah's teeth bared, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing up at just the thought. A feeling she despised, something she swore she would never be again.

Being a fully-fledged werewolf, a young woman alone in this world, left to fend for her own devices, up until this point now that the Anti-Werewolf Legislation Ban had been lifted by Minister Scrimgeour, Umbridge in her newly turned She-Wolf status taken inbound chains to Azkaban, where the old bitch would rot for the rest of her miserable, desolate existence, she was used to constantly looking after herself.

Forced to take jobs well below her pay grade, not to mention her skill set, just to get by and buy food for the week.

She had always prided herself on her ability to push past pain and ignore it, to never show a semblance of any kind of weakness, but it was not possible now.

The pain of her burnt leg that was by now, given the severity of the wound, more black than pale, and the bleeding wound at her ribcage, though from what caused it, Norah did not know, threatened to engulf her entirely. It felt like someone stabbed her.

Maybe they had and she just hadn't caught it.

Norah growled in frustration. She was dying.

Merlin's left saggy buttock, what she wouldn't give for an entire bottle of Fire Whiskey right now.

Anything to numb the pain that spiraled through her. A Killing Curse would be a mercy right now.

She did not like sitting up here on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, at the top of the world, helpless, immovable, and dependent on someone finding her.

Though there was a small part of her that prayed for it, though the only one Norah hoped to discover her here in this eerie place of solitude and tranquility overlooking the battle's aftermath was Greyback.

Norah wanted to kill him before she allowed herself to succumb to her wounds and sink into an eternal sleep.

But Merlin's Beard…how had her life come to this?!

To succumb to her wounds, a vicious burn mark on her leg, the bleeding wound seeping the essence of her very life force out of her and staining her shirt and precious leather jacket?!

And she had not even had the opportunity to take him down.

As visions of Greyback's face flitted in front of her mind, she let out an animalistic, wolfish growl.

Norah let out a tired sigh and stared down and out, past the ruined courtyard, past the broken and mangled bodies of the students.

And into the fires that ravaged what remained of the Forbidden Forest. The flame had no culture, no pity, no mind, yet it consumed whatever it pleased.

Its only criteria were if it can take it and reduce it to ash or something molten and foul, then it would.

The flames burned hot, short, and violent, with no care what will be left behind.

So, when Norah stared, it was not fire she saw, though the hot tear-drop dances yellow in the cold April breeze, Norah saw Greyback.

She felt him. Norah felt his presence here.

He was close now. She recalled how the wolf torched her insides until they charred before disappearing with her humanity intact the night of her Turning when she was a little girl.

Norah wanted, no, she needed for Fenrir to suffer for his crimes….

For what he had done to her, he had taken away her humanity with one swift bite, taking a chunk of her neck and collarbone along with him, then.

If she hadn't, maybe, then maybe, she could have entertained a future with Ollie, and—

No. Her conscience piped up, rather violently at that, bedsides.

Norah forced her mind to grind to a halt. She would not—could not—think of him.

She had said goodbye to Ollie Brennan (though not in so many words) the night of Umbridge's Turning, when the two of them were arguing with Severus.

The moment Ollie had left to check on Tonks and she had stepped inside Snape's Potions classroom and closed the door; she had effectively forced that chapter of her life to come to an end.

It had all been a blissful dream, really. A dream that had been forced to come to an end the morning after she had woken up in the throes of the Forbidden Forest, dazed, though fully coherent.

She had taken sick delight in ending Umbridge's life as the old hag had known it, never knowing herself to be a savage She-Wolf until that moment.

Tasting the bitch's blood, sweet like mo on her fangs, relishing her Turning.

And she had enjoyed it. Wished for it for years, so long that it became a desire.

She could not—would not—subject Ollie or Tonks to that danger. No.

Norah had sworn to herself to leave the kid and Lupin and Tonks, her new friends, in her past that day that she had disappeared into the Forbidden Forest.

As practical as Norah prided herself on being, there were times when the pain of the life that she could have had, had Greyback not bitten her, would seep to the surface from where she had attempted to bury it deep within the confines of her heart, the deep recesses of her mind, rendering her breathless.

Right now, was one of those times. She had slept so little and had woken up late, which was why she had Apparated so late to Tonks's delayed baby shower.

Norah was increasingly finding the darkness to be an unwelcome, heavy burden in her life, as she struggled in vain to keep thoughts of Ollie, Tonks, and Remus from her mind, and ultimately failing. How she had disappointed them.

But it was better this way, for what sane human would befriend a monster?

Norah had lain awake in her bed in her new flat in London, a rented tumbledown place, ultimately the last place any of them would look for her.

It proved to be a difficult feat, just to force her chest to rise and fall, how sucking in the night air in her cold, empty bedroom pushed against the forming lump in her throat and filled the void hole deep within her chest. Ollie's absence, though she realized she had been holding onto a truly fruitless dream.

Norah furrowed her brows in a frown, recollecting how hours ago, she willed her mind to think of nothing as she paced barefoot against her bedroom's hardwood floor, the wood cold against her bruised and battered peaky skin.

She clung to the small shreds of dignity and sanity he had taken with him the moment he had turned his back on her, leaving Norah to watch as his black woolen robes billowed behind him as he had chosen to leave her, to see Tonks, not knowing that she planned to leave, that that would be the last time he'd look upon her face.

Her white-boned fists clenched tightly into balls at her side against her raging anger, her chest heaving, frantic for any semblance of quiet serenity.

But it had not come to her, and so it was that Norah was forced to spend another long dark chasm of a sleepless night, fighting against her nightmares.

All to keep herself from sinking into a horrible, fatigued, anguished misery, though her life was already gone to shit now that she had pushed Ollie away.

It's for his own good, she thought bitterly, grinding her teeth in annoyance, though it did not stop her from becoming racked with the memory of his smile.

And all that was left in place of her worthless heart was a hollow empty pit.

At times, she wished for nothing more than to plunge her own fist into her chest and pull out the damned offending, stubborn corded muscle resting inside.

If this was what it meant to care for someone following her husband and son's death, then she did not want it. Could not allow herself to feel this unimaginable thing which had been building up inside of her for weeks on end.

Her very hands tingled, mocking her, burning as they recollected against her mind's will to make them forget how the pads of his fingertips left hot sparks.

How it felt like that night he had more or less forced her to dance at Lupin and Tonks's wedding, how the Forest clearing had melted away until it was just them.

Just them.

The thought startled the young blonde werewolf. She sighed.

Norah growled in frustration, reaching up with a shaking hand and wiped at her eyes with the back of the sleeve of her now-ruined black leather jacket.

She battled against the tears that had stung at her eyes. Norah had cried enough.

At last, sleep had succumbed, though it had not lasted long. As usual.

She had dreamed of Ollie, his bright blue twinkling eyes, and his kind white smile.

She saw the depths of his crystalline blue orbs in her sleep, haunting her.

He had not exactly taken her departure well, nor had Norah really expected him to.

The letters addressed to her from Brennan following her abandonment of the group the day after Umbridge's mauling had been every few days since.

The young blonde werewolf was sure, yes, she was sure, that Ollie wrote to her daily but only sent half of them via owl post, the ones he thought were more eloquent and better put.

She knew this because he'd said as much in his last letter.

Norah had naively believed that she could cut Ollie away, that he would stay put wherever he lived in London and never to bother her again.

Of course, she should have bloody known better. The letters persisted, and soon it was not just letters that he sent, but money as well.

Galleons, enough to cover the cost of affording her own cottage in the countryside if she no longer wished to rent out a flat in downtown London, money that he explained, would help her to start a new life away from the Forest, settle down somewhere quiet, forget about things that she was not too proud of.

And that was when Norah began to grow incredibly angry. Ollie would simply not leave her alone in peace. He was pestering her to come back on purpose.

A sign that he still remained utterly ignorant or deaf that night that she had explained to him, that whatever he felt for her, he was bloody confused, and was not thinking straight.

That if he knew her, really, truly knew her, outside of what she was like of the Forest, outside of those special 'times of the month,' then he wouldn't even want to be her friend, much less take a romantic interest in her.

She knew this.

He had not wanted to accept it, and they had almost argued because of it.

Norah cringed as she thought of that particular unpleasant conversation, how her sadness turned into anger.

She had borne her soul to him, and he to her, had gone against everything that she once believed to be true. That no one could—or should—love a monster like her.

There was no denying what she was. A werewolf, a beast, a wretched creature of the shadows, a cursed witch. Not good for him.

Still. His letters to her via owl post were bloody relentless, and despite Norah continuing to send the letters and the money-back unopened, their wax seals unbroken, still, he kept sending that poor barn owl of his, with new letters, letters she began to send back unopened, and every time she sent that poor, exhausted owl back after giving him an owl treat for his troubles, it felt like a thorn was being twisted into her heart, churning, piercing and agonizing hurt.

Despite the pain, she felt whenever she thought of their last conversation, how the kid had practically begged her to come upstairs with him and check on Tonks, to quit arguing with his old Head of House to demand Snape let her in to see Umbridge, she could no longer deny the raw determination and clarity she'd seen in his eyes.

Ollie Brennan was different whenever around her, with an eerie sense of inner calm that she herself usually possessed on a good day, but found it slipped away whenever she was in his presence.

He had spoken to her of torment.

Well. Now he was hers. She spent most of her days alone.

Though her mind lingered over the last time she had laid eyes on the kid while she was still cognizant, before allowing the She-Wolf within her to take total, utter control.

In that moment, just before Ollie had left to go upstairs to the Hospital Wing to check on Tonks and see how her condition was progressing, she had seen it in the man's brilliant blue eyes, that he felt the same way that she did.

The kid had taken to looking at her as though nothing else existed in this world, the exact same way that her Wes had used to look at her back then…

Norah knew it was blind and bloody foolish to resent or ignore it any longer, that 'something' was happening between them.

She felt it when the two of them danced at Tonks and Remus's wedding in the Forbidden Forest.

Though just because she felt it, did not mean she could allow this to happen.

She knew what would happen if she did. Norah knew she was too old for him; he was four years younger than she was.

The kid was only twenty-six years old, she thirty. He deserved someone closer to his age who would give him a good life.

One where Brennan did not constantly have to live in fear of being bitten. One where whomever he chose to date wouldn't get odd, fearful looks in the streets of London whenever she walked down the street, pointing in hushed, antagonizing whispers at the scars upon her neck and her collarbone.

Almost as a reflective instinct by this point, she felt the pads of her fingertip drift up to her neck.

Two long jagged scars snaked down the right side of her neck. It was an unusual looking scar, an odd mixture of bright white and light pink. The skin around the scar was also slightly discolored, suggesting that it did not heal properly.

Norah slowly unclenched one of her hands from resting at her sides and lightly brushed it down the scar, tracing the jagged line slowly with the tips of her fingers. Norah sighed and bit down hard on her bottom lip.

It's been years since she had gotten the scar, but Norah was still unable to look at it for longer than a minute. She hung her head, shame washing over her.

Try as she might, she could not undo the images that were embedded thickly in her troubled mind.

Visions of Greyback, the Wolf who'd turned her when she was only six years old and nowhere near old enough to understand, flitted through her mind.

She had heard whispers from other Wolves in the Forest within the last few weeks leading up to this moment that he had gotten out.

The Wolf had escaped from Azkaban Prison during a mass breakout and was here. Her nostrils flared like that of a raging bull's.

She could smell him, he smelt of blood. Of murder. Of death.

He was here, all right, but where…?

Norah let out a growl of utter frustration and rage. She had come here on a mission, kill Greyback and end his vicious, savage attacks on innocent young children, but thoughts of Ollie were distracting her.

Her knuckles went white at just the concept of the kid dating another woman, someone normal, and she clutched onto the wall on the topmost level of Hogwarts for support, as waves of jealousy practically rocked her to her core, though she shook her head to clear it, grinding her teeth in annoyance, and pressed on, heading for the roof to see what defenses she could provide.

No one else, except for Greyback, to the best of her ability, knew that she was here, and it stayed that way.

Norah let out a strangled scream that she quickly shoved her bruised and broken knuckles into her mouth to stifle it, feeling the blood well within her throat from the tongue she had just bitten through in a vain attempt to keep quiet, though she knew as the footsteps drew closer, she'd been found out.

Though as her pointed ears perked up at the footfalls, much too light to belong to Fenrir Greyback, Norah's brows furrowed in a slight, angered frown.

She tilted her head just over her shoulder, though she made no move to get up from her precarious position seated at the ledge of the Astronomy Tower.

Norah let out a tired sigh, raking her hands through her short blonde pixie, anticipating the arrival of whoever had thought to bloody come look for her.

Her cobalt blue eyes widened in shock and horror as the door to the tower that led out here onto the roof flung wide open, the oak door rattling in its rusted hinges, and there stood Ollie, his own blue eyes wide, but in anger, not of shock and horror as Norah's were.

His lips were pursed into such a thin line, his pale face ashen, pulled taut with rage, that at first, Norah thought it was the young man's intent to hex her.

Norah wouldn't have blamed him if he had. She'd be the first to admit she deserved it.

Norah emanated a tense exhale through her flaring nostrils and relinquished her grip on her wand, letting the weapon rest idly near her thigh.

Norah swallowed down hard past the growing lump in her throat.

"I…er…I didn't know that you would…be here," she finished lamely, feeling an incredible heat creep to her cheeks, setting her entire face aflame with shame.

Ollie said nothing at first, which only intensified the embarrassment she felt.

The former Slytherin and Obscurus who had, by means foreign to her, had managed to find a way to sneak underneath her skin and make it crawl, though not in an unpleasant way.

Norah felt certain she had to be bloody dreaming.

Maybe I've died.

This was bloody it, wasn't it? She had died from blood loss on top of the roof of the Astronomy Tower, her burnt, charred leg infected, and Ollie, Merlin bless this man, had come to escort her to that sweet place of relief in the afterlife where there was no pain, no suffering, no torment.

There was nowhere to hide from Ollie Brennan, and Norah flinched as the ashes from the raging fire of the Hogwarts Grounds fell like snowflakes on her shoulder.

She winced, her nose tickling as it fought back a sneeze, and the urge to cough overcame her lungs, though she forced itself back as she gaped openly.

It was the first time she had seen Ollie in nine months, yet it might as well have been an eternity.

While she stood there in a disheveled state on the brink of death, for she had lost any interest in keeping up her appearances, he stood now merely a footfall's pace away from her, looking even more well put together than he had at Remus and Tonks's wedding, his black robes pristine.

He stood in front of her, his black boots spotless and glinting in the dim light, as he knelt into a crouch and shrugged off his robes, revealing the thick black woolen sweater underneath.

She almost snorted at that little revelation.

Brennan and Remus Lupin were more like than they knew. Both quiet men, thoughtful and kind, almost to a fault, both preferring sweaters, given how slender they both were. Easily susceptible to the discomforts the colder elements of this harsh world provided.

"You're hurt," Ollie growled, his voice rougher, coarser, more subdued than before as his widened eyes took the insight of the horrific sight that was her charred, blackened and bleeding leg, and the wound still seeping crimson blood from her right upper ribcage.

He stretched his rough, calloused hand and touched her burned leg, eliciting a hiss of pain from Norah as she jerked away from his touch. His hand was cold.

"You look terrible," Ollie merely grunted by way of response, without a light jest in his eyes, which gave Norah pause for concern.

She stared at his hand, which was shaking slightly, causing her to flex her fingers in response as she pulled away from Ollie.

"It doesn't matter anymore, kid I'm dying," Norah growled, pursing her lips into a thin line, her eyebrows quirking in quandary as she felt her pale features furrow in a frown.

Something was off. Not right...

He was not ranting at her, not screaming at her as she had fully expected, judging by the harsh way he had spoken to Remus and Tonks earlier when she'd lain in wait at the edge of the woods behind their cottage.

His sky-blue eyes held a certain fire that Norah had, for the first time, saw within the young man's eyes. His black hair was disheveled and wild.

"Lightning struck, in case you haven't already heard," Norah murmured, allowing a dark little chuckle to escape her lips as she slowly swiveled her head away from Ollie Brennan's piercing gaze.

Unable to resist, she glanced at the dark-haired young man out of the corner of her eyes, snorting, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the look of confusion he shot her.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb.

"Harry did it. He killed Voldemort."

Norah was not exactly sure what she had been expecting, but for Ollie to kneel into a crouch at her side, and to cup her chin in his strong hand was not what she anticipated, and as a consequence, was not at all sure how to react.

Norah felt her heart skip a beat, beads of sweat beginning to form on her brow bone, all while watching the smoldering, fathomless rage in her friend's darkened cerulean blue orbs, his face drawing closer, tilting slightly as if he meant to…to…

Though before he could, Norah pulled back, raised a hand, and placed two dainty but shaking fingers on Ollie Brennan's lips.

The other stopped and looked at the light blue eyes currently clouded with a haze and a fiery spark.

"You know it's illegal to embody the form of another, Greyback," Norah barked in a low sigh, looking straight into the questioning blue eyes before her. Norah continued, seeing Brennan's face drain in shock, mouth hung slack. "You're such a bad impersonator, werewolf," she spat poisonously. She pointed to her own right eyebrow and smirked at the man. "You forgot his scar, just here."

The harsh retort of her words, Norah was pleased to see, had the desired effect, and she watched as the man blanched and bolted upright to his feet.

Polyjuice Potion never lasted long at all, and as the man's skin bubbled underneath the surface, Norah was not at all surprised to see the towering figure of Fenrir Greyback now looming over her, near the edge of the Tower.

She heard the werewolf let out a snort. "Just to let you know, Jameson," he barked in a low, wolfish growl. "My body has not changed. Your eyes deceive you, She-Wolf. Take a look again for yourself. See me as I truly am, wolf."

Norah's blue eyes flung wide open upon hearing the familiar baritone voice of her former Alpha.

Her eyes fixed upon this imposter, this intruder, looking at her with that all-too-familiar spark of flame she had always felt whenever she got a glimpse of another werewolf that sparked her interest, though, with Fenrir, it was different.

Her only interest lay in killing this man, this child murderer. Norah felt her cracked lips part open slightly to speak, feeling a wavering in her vision, and she would have fallen off the ledge of the Astronomy Tower at that moment had she not shot out an arm to catch herself, but she didn't whine.

She was not about to give Greyback satisfaction. Norah shakily rose to her feet, gritting her teeth with the effort to remain silent to keep crying out.

Her burnt leg throbbed, sending fiery swells of pain up and down her spine. She turned her head to cough as Greyback's curled claws wound around her throat.

"Can you feel it now?" he growled. "The same suffocation you give me, you little bitch," Fenrir snarled. He had longed for this day, ached for it, even.

Much as the other, Remus Lupin had denied joining his encampments, stung, somehow, this blonde She-Wolf's rejection of his generous offer hurt worse.

Yet no matter how much Greyback wanted Norah Jameson to suffer, the only response he received from the blonde She-Wolf was utter silence.

Silence. Fenrir growled with the effort to restrain himself from driving his claws through her heart. He wanted this one to suffer. To die slowly as possible.

"Scream," he breathed. "Whine like the wolf that you are, Jameson. You bitch. Call for help."

And yet, she did neither of those things, causing his eyebrows to come together in frustration. Fenrir Greyback never averted his gaze from Jameson.

He felt weakened somehow, by the blonde bitch's impassive expression.

There was no fear in her dimming blue eyes, no desperation, just a numb acceptance of whatever fate Greyback had in mind for his newest little prize.

No plea on her face, and instead, he was the one who began to feel nervous, and his troubled mind over the Dark Lord's defeat began to churn and reel.

He lifted her up slightly by the neck, that her feet lifted off the ground, the light leaving her blue eyes. "I could kill you. If I wanted. Can you not realize that, bitch?" Greyback bellowed, his angry words piercing the air.

By way of response, Norah merely proceeded to glower at him coldly, all the while lifting an arm to his in the effort to pry his claws off of her throat.

"You are dying!" Greyback seized fistfuls of the young blonde's leather jacket and shook her slightly as he screamed and raged at her, his angry tones worsening. "How…can you…be…so…CALM?!" Fenrir roared, losing the last remnants of his patience and composure as he fixed her with an icy stare as he ranted and yelled at Norah.

"Let…go…" Norah gasped, arching her spine, trying to shove him hard against his burly chest. Her face felt hot, pinpricks of needles across her cheeks.

Suddenly, Norah did not want to look Greyback in the eyes.

She had failed. She'd set out to kill this bastard, and she could not even accomplish that in life.

A sudden sound rent the otherwise silent night atmosphere around them, save for Greyback's savage snarls and vicious grunts as he seethed, glaring at her.

Norah heard what sounded like the door banging open again on its hinges, and a muffled yell from someone, though she did not recognize the speaker or speakers.

"They're watching…" Norah managed to choke out hoarsely, and she froze, her prying, grasping fingers ceasing their movements to pull his hand off the column of her throat as he slowly strangled Norah as she heard him chuckle. "Do whatever you want to me, dog," she spat in his face. "And go to hell!"

Greyback did not answer. He merely laughed, chilling Norah's blood to ice in her veins.

This was not good. It was always a bad sign to hear her old Alpha laugh.

Though before Norah's cracked and parted lips could manage a pitiful mewling for help, she swore she saw a familiar tuft of wild black hair behind Greyback, a look of outrage intermingled with that of unbridled fear, shimmering as glistening moisture in blue eyes. Her eyes widened.

It was Ollie.

At that single moment, however, before Ollie could so much as raise his wand in his hand a fraction of an inch higher, Greyback loosened his ironclad grip on the pale column of her throat, and moved with her in tow, stepping up on the ledge, and Norah was awakened from her dazed and hazy stupor, coughing.

"What a pleasant surprise. I did not expect company, little dove. Look, bitch," Greyback growled, whispering in Norah's left eardrum. "Your little plaything came to save you. We wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, yes?"

She let out a pained, choking gasp from where it had rested over top his hands while trying to pry his hand off of her throat, their noses almost touching.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Norah whisper-hissed through gritted teeth, wincing, ignoring Ollie's muffled shouting from behind them.

Norah felt Fenrir smile, and she did not bother to repress the chill of fear that traveled down her spine, her skin crawling as he leaned in to whisper his next statement into the shell of her ear, his voice dangerously low and somber.

"Making it worth the show, She-Wolf."

And with that final statement, Norah felt his ironclad grip around her arm loosen as he threw her over the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and into the fires that wrecked the courtyard of Hogwarts below.


A/N: I really might be a fan of these darn cliffhangers. Poor Norah! It was originally going to be Ollie that I chucked off the Tower roof, but I put that man through enough physical torment as it was, I switched it to Norah at the last minute.

I thought it would be kind of neat to do a parallel to Remus and Tonks's relationship, taking Lupin's stance of 'I'm too old, too poor,' etc. and giving that particular argument to Norah and Ollie, with the roles reversed.

Norah sees herself as unclean, unworthy, given her hard life of what happened to her poor husband and son in her other life, and Ollie, Merlin bless this minor character who I've come to love over the course of several chapters, just wants her back, and he might find he might have to go to hell and back if that's what it takes to keep her around a little while longer.

I wasn't going to originally pair them together but decided they might* be a cute couple and a chance at some small semblance of happiness and peace.

Both have immensely tragic lives, Ollie coming from an abusive family and home life, and then suffering all those years under Barty Crouch Jr.'s hand, tortured physically and emotionally, and Norah with losing her family to Umbridge, and forced to live in the Forbidden Forest in exile for all of her adult life.

Things are looking quite bleak for my favorite blonde werewolf and dark-haired, blue-eyed Legillimens, but will they be able to pull out of this? Coming up!

The next chapter checks in on our favorite werewolf and Auror as they continue to struggle to bring their new baby into the world.

Stay tuned!