"It has to be Fenrir, right?" asked Draco, soon as he was done with Potter. "I can't think of anyone else with a motive to secretly hold Hermione as a prisoner."
He stopped himself from dwelling on what those reasons were.
"It would seem that way by process of elimination, but, unless he's holding her right here on the castle grounds, I don't see how," replied Oskar.
"You're certain he hasn't been away even once in all this time?"
There was no need to ask, Oskar's information was always reliable and he had already given Draco his assurances more than once that day, but fresh out of leads, Draco felt compelled to go over everything once again to be certain they had not overlooked anything.
"My sources confirmed the same thing as yours: Greyback hasn't left Bleidd since he returned injured after the last full moon. He's been staying close to the pack, in particular the ones loyal to him and the ones he sired. From what I've seen for myself and gathered from others, Greyback making an effort to be more of an alpha to the pack is the only suspicious thing he's done so far."
Fenrir was in all likelihood feeling the strain of the weakened pack bonds because apart from ignoring Draco—which frankly wasn't the worst thing Fenrir had ever done to him—the alpha was making an effort to bond with his pack.
"His efforts are too little too late. He thinks sleeping huddled together in one room with his omegas and sharing meals with his betas will be enough to undo all the damage he's done—He never has and never will deserve to be alpha. That brute's only good on the battlefield," said Cora, her lip curled in disgust.
Oskar ignored the interruption. "If Greyback was keeping Hermione he would need someone he trusted to watch over her. No one from his trusted circle has left Bleidd in all this time. In fact with all the quality time they've been spending with Greyback, if it was any other alpha I would've suspected that Greyback was trying to calm an upset pack."
"Why would they be upset now? More importantly, why would Fenrir care now when he was okay with signing us up for slaughter in the Dark Lord's poorly planned overseas missions or letting the Death Eaters gut us on the pretext of studying our kind? I don't buy it. There has to be another explanation for his behaviour," said Draco.
"Sure," replied Oskar, "but that's a different discussion from the one concerning Hermione."
"Forgive me for speaking out of turn," started Cora as politely as possible, "I mean no offense, but can we be certain Hermione's still..."
Oskar stepped in front of Cora, shielding her from Draco.
"I think we can trust Draco's judgement on this, Cora. Take it from someone who had a true mate once; your wolf just knows when your mate passes on..."
Oskar looked away and for the briefest of moments the usually self-possessed Elder looked more disconsolate than one would think possible.
"Your wolf has known your mate. Even if you didn't bond with her, your wolf would know if she was no more. Your wolf would mourn her passing... There's no mistaking that grief for any other."
Draco looked at Oskar, for the first time seeing him as someone other than his sire and their Elder. Here was a man who, like him, once had a true mate. Luna had blessed the two men to be among the lucky few who found their true mate in their lifetimes. As a young pup, new to the realities of what it meant to be a werewolf, he had never fully appreciated how fortunate he was when his wolf first mated with Hermione. However, there was also a flipside to it. Even though he did not complete the mate bond with Hermione, he was constantly fighting off feelings of fear and anxiety from not having her beside him. Not knowing where or how she was made it worse. A chill crept up his spine trying to imagine the misery and despondence that would come with knowing his mate was no more.
"If your instinct tells you she's alive, we should listen to it," said Oskar, looking at Draco with all the compassion and understanding Draco had come to expect of his sire.
"Alright, then we need to consider the possibility that she was injured during the fight with Fenrir. She could be stuck somewhere behind enemy lines, which is why she hasn't contacted the Order," suggested Cora.
"Merlin! Not this again," groaned Draco in frustration. "No doubt Hermione's a capable witch, but even armed with a wand, the idea of her besting Fenrir during the full moon... Sounds farfetched," he said with a shake of his head.
They had discussed this theory before. Draco had been willing to consider it as a possibility when they thought Hermione might have had some help.
"Cora, did you not say that Hermione had to be among friends or she wouldn't have managed to beat the alpha? Well, now that we know for a fact that she isn't with the Order can we finally give this theory of Hermione fighting Fenrir a rest?"
"I know what I said before, but I believe I was wrong. Think about it, Draco. Is it honestly that hard to imagine that Hermione could hold her own against Fenrir? Even if you're sceptical, like me, of Oskar's belief that Hermione is some 'Promised' were who's going to usher in a new age of tolerance and harmony, surely you must realise she's not the average witch if your wolf chose her as your mate? You've been a werewolf long enough to know our ways, our wolves only seek mates who are our equal, if not better than us. And if you're an alpha what does that say about Hermione?"
It was true, social hierarchies were practically instinct in their kind. His wolf always protested mating with the pack's bitches as he found them unworthy of his seed.
"Setting aside the lore, let's just examine some of the facts. That witch achieved the rare distinction of not only surviving mating with a wolf, she also successfully carried the twins to term despite suffering the effects of whatever perverted magic was used to shorten the gestation period. And then there was the incident with Ginny. If she could do that accidentally to a friend why couldn't she do the same deliberately to Fenrir?"
Cora raised some valid points and Draco had not forgotten the training session Hermione had blasted him off his feet with some accidental magic. Yet it wasn't enough to ease the worry that plagued him.
"So the best case scenario you can come up with is my mate's lying injured and friendless within enemy territory, and I'm supposed to take comfort in that idea?" he asked scornfully.
"No, but I wish you'd consider other possibilities for why no one's heard from Hermione before you go charging after Fenrir like you've been itching to do. There's more at stake here than a missing mate, especially since you chose to ignore our counsel when you willingly let her go without bonding with her. You didn't think about the pack, or even your pups, when you decided to help her escape—We've suffered far too many years from the actions of one selfish alpha, I don't wish to have misery heaped upon the pack just because the next one is a different kind of selfish!"
Cora's eyes went wide and her mouth snapped shut soon as she realised she had spoken her dangerous thoughts aloud. She fell to her knees, head hung low and eyes cast down. Her whole body trembled with fear as she waited to feel the full brunt of Draco's wrath.
Draco's face was a mask of cold fury. When he spoke his voice was low, his tone measured and even. "How dare you! Do you have any idea what it's taken for me to sit back and wait for answers when my wolf wants to pummel the living daylights out of Fenrir, be it about taking off with my pups or showing up smelling like my mate? All this time I've kept my head down and pursued other options because I understand how much my actions could adversely affect the pack."
Cora remained silent, continuing to display submissiveness, though it did little to pacify his wolf. Draco would have punished Cora for her insolence, except she had spoken the truth. By letting Hermione go he was culpable for any ill that may have befallen her.
Seething, Draco sucked in air through gritted teeth. "I don't need this thestral dung right now," he said to no one in particular. "I need answers. Where's Hermione? What happened to her? Right now questioning Fenrir seems like the only hope I have for getting any answers."
Fenrir had to know something about Hermione's disappearance. He could not have picked up Hermione's scent unless he came in direct contact with either Hermione or something of hers
"If Greyback has taken Hermione he needs someone to watch over her," said Oskar. "I fail to see Greyback's involvement if no one he can trust has left Bleidd—"
Draco was rapidly losing what little patience he had left. It was clear that they only had one valid option to explore—Fenrir—but they were still wasting time rehashing the same theories over and over again while coming to no new conclusion. They agreed that Hermione was only useful to Fenrir alive and Fenrir could only depend on someone from the pack to do his bidding. If he were holding Hermione as a prisoner, someone would need to leave Bleidd to check on her and provide her with food and water on a regular basis.
"—unless he has some Death Eater or Black Cloak minding her for him."
Despite the situation, Draco snorted. The idea of any Death Eater, no matter how low in ranking, taking orders from someone they deemed to be a 'half-breed' was ludicrous.
Cora cleared her throat, drawing the attention of the men. She nervously shifted her weight from one knee to the other.
"What is it, Cora?" asked Oskar.
"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I just thought of someone else Fenrir could've asked to help him. Someone we only recently found out about."
"Who?"
Cora nervously looked up at Draco. "The—the elf. We know the elf helped with the pups. Maybe the elf is an accomplice of Fenrir?"
The silence in the room was heavy as they considered such a possibility. Draco was practically dizzy from connecting what he had previously thought were random dots.
Draco did not waste any more time on speculation. There was a more reliable way to get some answers.
"Mipsy."
A wrinkly old elf, dressed in only a pillow cover bearing the Malfoy insignia, appeared before them.
"Oh master!" wailed the elf upon seeing Draco. Tears freely flowed from eyes that were too large for his face and mucous dripped from his hawk nose. "Oh master, you finally called old Mipsy! Mipsy is a good elf. Mipsy waits so long for master to call."
"Yes, yes," said Draco impatiently. He had never cared for elves and right now, he was in no mood to console a blubbering elf just to get him to perform the simple task of relaying a message to his mother, enquiring about the recent activities of the Malfoy elves.
"There's something I want you to do, Mipsy," he started but was cut off by the excited elf.
"Oh yes, master. Mipsy is a good elf. Mipsy does what master wants. Mipsy takes good care of master's babies even if they bring shame to the house of Malfoy."
Draco did a double take at the elf's words.
"Mipsy, have you seen my sons?"
The elf nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Mipsy takes good care of master's babies. Mipsy takes better care of the babies than the filthy Mudblood. Filthy Mudblood only cries and sleeps in filth."
Draco's gut twisted painfully. "What filthy Mudblood, Mipsy?" he asked with bated breath.
"The filthy Mudblood in the cellar. The Mudblood sleeps in filth till Mipsy cleans her. Bad Mudblood only cries and begs Mipsy to be a bad elf, tells Mipsy to disobey orders. But Mipsy doesn't listen to the bad Mudblood. Mipsy is a good elf."
"What cellar? Are you talking about some prisoner in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor?"
The elf shook his head. "No, master. Not Malfoy Manor. He called it Wolf Fort."
"Who called it Wolf Fort?"
"Master's master."
"My master?"
Draco was struggling to make sense of what the elf was saying. Was he referring to the Dark Lord?
"Yes, master's master, the werewolf. He takes Mipsy to Uganda. He tells Mipsy to take care of the filthy Mudblood. He rewards Mipsy; brings master's babies to Mipsy because Mipsy is a good elf. Mipsy takes care of filthy Mudblood. Mipsy takes care of master's babies. Mipsy even takes care of master's master after the bad Mudblood attacked him."
"Mipsy, I've having a hard time following what you're saying. Be a good elf and don't speak unless I tell you to. I'm going to ask you some questions and I want you to nod if the answer is yes and shake your head if it's a no. Okay?"
The elf nodded.
"Is the werewolf Fenrir Greyback?"
The elf nodded again.
"Fenrir brought my sons to you and asked you to look after them?"
Another nod.
"And there's a Mudblood that Fenrir is keeping prisoner?"
The elf shook his head, then nodded, then shook it again.
"Which is it? You may speak."
"The bad Mudblood attacked the werewolf and escaped, master."
"But the Mudblood was Fenrir's prisoner till then?"
The elf nodded.
"When did the Mudblood escape? You may speak."
"On the third of this month, master."
"The night of the full moon," he whispered to himself.
Even though it wasn't a question, the elf nodded in response.
Draco dreaded asking the next question but needed to confirm it all the same.
"Mipsy, was the Mudblood the mother of my sons?"
The elf bobbed its head one more than once.
All his fears realised in the moment Draco's control finally snapped. He lunged at his elf, intent on ripping him apart for his role in Hermione's captivity. Mid-leap, in the blink of an eye, he unintentionally transformed into his wolf.
Landing on his feet Draco looked up in annoyance. Instead of lying crushed under his paws, the elf was sprawled on his arse some feet away.
"Easy there, pup."
With his hands held stretched out in front of him, Oskar appeared to be the one responsible for depriving him of his prey.
"The elf won't be able to answer any more of your questions if you kill it now, Draco," said the old alpha, trying to reason with him.
Draco's wolf was still trying to decide between seeking satisfaction by killing the elf or heeding the wise words of his sire when his human side retook charge of the situation. Willing his body to return to its human form, Draco assured his wolf that when the time was right he would deal with every one of those involved in the abduction and imprisonment of his mate.
"You're still my fucking elf, why in Hades have you been taking orders from Fenrir?" Draco demanded of the cowering elf.
"Mipsy doesn't understand why master is angry with Mipsy. Mipsy is a good el—"
"You're not a good elf. You're a bad elf, Mipsy—the worst. You helped Fenrir hurt someone I love very much."
The elf sobbed loudly.
"Mipsy is sorry. Mipsy is very very sorry, master. Mipsy only does what the werewolf says. The werewolf is master's master, so he is also Mipsy's master. Mipsy is a bad elf if Mipsy does not follow master's orders."
Fenrir was able to command his elf because he was still Draco's alpha. It just added insult to injury knowing his own elf played a part in his mate's suffering. Worse still, Fenrir had succeeded in doing so because Draco had forgotten all about the wretched creature.
"Unless you wish to be banished to some realm where you will never get to see, let alone serve, another being in your life, you will tell me exactly what happened to Hermione, the mother of my pups, during the time she was Fenrir's prisoner."
The elf nodded.
Over the next half hour, they grilled the elf until he was able to provide them with a clearer picture of what had happened to Hermione. Throughout, Mipsy shook like a leaf fearing Draco, who was just barely holding it together.
They learnt that Hermione had been a prisoner at the Death Eater base in Uganda until the night of the full moon, when she somehow attacked Fenrir and escaped. The place was unplottable; the elf could only go there when accompanied by Fenrir. During his visits, Mipsy was required to prepare and serve Hermione her meals laced with a potion given to him by Fenrir—from its description, the potion had sounded like the version of Fero used by the pack.
They were angry about Hermione's abduction and her living conditions in the cellar, but they were most disturbed when they heard about the time Mipsy was asked to bring the twins before Fenrir, while he physically restrained an already bound and drugged Hermione. At that point, both Cora and Oskar had to stun and bind Draco just to get him to sit through the rest of the interrogation.
"You're also a snake, Draco. You wait for the right time to strike," Oskar had yelled at him more than once as they continued to drill the elf for every piece of useful information.
Draco clung to his sanity by repeating a single refrain in his head.
She attacked the werewolf and escaped.
She attacked the werewolf and escaped.
She attacked the werewolf and escaped.
"To hell with this," Draco cursed aloud and turned to Mipsy. "Did he turn her?"
The elf gave him a confused stare.
"Mipsy does not understand, mas—"
"Shut up! Just tell me if Fenrir bit Hermione during the full moon."
The elf shook his head.
"Mipsy does not know. Mipsy was inside. The werewolf came to Mipsy bleeding. Mipsy did what the werewolf told Mipsy to do."
"Hermione's in Uganda? But then why hasn't she send a patronus to the Order?" wondered Cora.
"She doesn't necessarily have to still be there. The travel restrictions apply to Britain, she could have used any of the travel options available to leave Uganda," Draco pointed out.
"But why not send a patronus if she escaped?" asked Cora. "Uganda is neutral territory, as far as I know."
Was Hermione being overly cautious or was she too severely injured to produce a patronus? Draco asked himself.
"If she was turned, she would've gone feral," suggested Oskar.
"But she attacked him. If Fenrir sired her he could've simply compelled her to stop," argued Draco.
"True, but what are the odds that Hermione fought Greyback during the full moon and got away without being bitten?"
As much as Draco hated to consider the implications of Hermione being turned by Fenrir, it seemed to be the most likely scenario.
"Fenrir's going to pay for this," he swore.
"Yes," said Oskar in a reassuring tone, "Just not right now. As far as the situation with the pack is concerned, nothing's changed, Draco. You cannot get rid of Fenrir yet, even if you finally feel up to the task."
It took Oskar and Cora stunning Draco two more times and reinforcing his bindings before they were finally able to subdue the angry alpha.
The children bid Hermione goodnight and headed towards their dorms. Thanks to a Swahili-to-English translation guide from Akiki, the children could communicate with Hermione using some basic day-to-day use words. Bokamoso in particular was proving to be quite the linguist. She smiled as she remembered the look of exasperation on his face as he attempted to correct his friends when they fumbled with the foreign words. Watching the trio brought back fond memories of her own school days with Harry and Ron.
It wasn't all happy memories though. Sometimes when she watched the trio Hermione remembered her own children. She did not like thinking about them. It did not make sense why thinking of her sons upset her even more than thinking about Draco, but it did, to the point where she suspected she might have mauled Akiki earlier in the day just for broaching the subject of her children.
"Forgive me," said Akiki averting his gaze when she caught him staring at the twin-wet spots on her blouse.
Hermione shrugged her shoulders in indifference.
"We understand why you want to rush home, but please, Hermione Granger, Uagadou welcomes you and your family. You can bring your baby here."
The statement was innocent enough, and what some would call a generous offer, yet the reminder had brought on a full-blown panic attack. Palms sweating, heart racing, Hermione struggled to breathe. The she-wolf took control just before she lost consciousness. When she woke up she was alone, unaware of how much time had passed, and no explanation for why the room resembled the aftermath of some natural disaster.
It took Hermione most of the day, with some assistance from her three little helpers, to put the room back to its original state, though the children did not assist as much as stare slack-jawed as she cast nonverbal spells to repair the various items.
"How?" Kalisha, the ever-curious one, had asked her.
She hunched to bring her face in level to theirs and then rubbing her fingers together in front of their faces in a conspiratorial tone whispered, "Magic."
Kalisha and Bokamoso nearly tore the translation guide in their eagerness to look up the word. She failed to restrain a giggle at their baffled expressions when they did find it. The children caught on, and then they too joined in the giggles.
Now, as she sat by herself, Hermione pulled out the wolf shaped portkey and squeezed it in her fist, assuring herself it was real. She found herself doing this several times in the day since receiving it. Each time, she did a mental countdown to the days and hours before it activated and she could return home.
But where is home?
Not in England, not since she altered her parents' memories and made them want to pack up and leave for Australia.
Harry and the Order?
It's where she was supposed to be, where she would have been if not for... if not for certain events.
She would be accepted in the Order, welcomed even. They could be her pack, the way they were Remus' pack.
Bleidd.
The she-wolf insisted on returning to Bleidd. It was where Fenrir was most probably hiding. She could never be free so long as her sire was alive.
Pack, echoed her human self. She needed a pack first. During her light-hearted moment with the children today, she experienced a brief instance of lucidity. For the first time, she could recognise how irrational her thoughts had been recently and understood why. The she-wolf was a mighty being, but she was also a ruthless predator who left unchecked would force Hermione to lose her humanity.
Hermione used to think that between her long standing friendship with Remus, the host of books she had read on the subject and all the insights she had received from Draco she knew what it meant to be a werewolf. She had no fucking clue. Not until she experienced the toxic mix of darkness and madness for herself. She finally understood why Remus feared the creature within him and why he had resisted Tonks for as long as he did. The wolf was a bloodthirsty being unable to distinguish between friend and foe. Hermione had a greater reason to fear the she-wolf because, unlike Remus, she could transform at will, her human half far too timid to control her beast.
A pack was the only cure for her fractured mind if she ever hoped to bring her two halves together, but returning to Bleidd in her current state was dangerous. There were no guarantees the she-wolf would stop her homicidal spree once she got started. Hermione shuddered as she vividly recalled wanting to kill Kalisha when she first saw her. It was only because she had been at death's door at the time that she did not have that child's blood on her hands.
She wasn't injured anymore and the she-wolf possessed not only physical strength but also the cunning to manipulate her human half. She was a ticking time bomb in her current state and as such needed to keep her distance from Wilbur and Martin for their safety.
Hermione forced herself to remember that first and foremost, she needed a pack. Her friends in the Order would accept her and through their bonds, she would conquer the darkness inside her.
Pack.
Pack.
Pack, she repeated over and over in her head. She would learn to control her beast and then return home. She knew where it was now.
Hermione had a wistful smile on her face as her mind drew the image of Draco awkwardly holding their sons and scowling at her for giggling after the twins had relieved themselves on him at the same time.