"An awful noise

Filled the air

I heard a scream in the woods somewhere"

In the woods somewhere-Hozier

Diagon Alley, August 3, 1976

Hermione Longbottom was quite sure she had never seen so much tulle in her entire life. Not even while shopping for her Yule Ball dress had she been surrounded by so much of the atrocious fabric. Her eyes lazily moved about the small boutique as she watched Augusta Longbottom boss about the terrified young witch assigned with the task of helping them.

"Honestly! Do you not have anything made of silk? This texture is ghastly," Augusta complained, sounding more exasperated with every passing second.

"Y-yes, Madam! Coming up!" the seamstress stuttered out, before running away.

Hermione wandered aimlessly about the shop, delicately touching the elegant fabrics. When Augusta had proclaimed that it was imperative they get Hermione fitted for a wardrobe worthy of high society, Hermione couldn't help but dread it. Surprisingly she was enjoying the day, in the future she rarely got the chance to leisurely shop. Of course she had gone when looking for formal dresses, but never for a full wizarding wardrobe. Her old closet contained an absurd amount of muggle denim and she was practically dying to get her hands on a pair of authentic bell bottoms from the '70s. Hermione had inherited a pair of them from Helen Granger and loved the faded jeans until they were worn out.

"Hermione, dear? Have you heard a single word I've said?" Augusta asked, breaking the young witch from her reverie.

"Sorry, mum. I was lost in my head," Hermione answered, unable to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks.

"It's alright my love. I was just asking if anything had caught your eye? I know pureblood clothing is a bit more pretentious than normal robes, but we can get everything altered for a better fit," Augusta answered, rubbing a comforting hand across Hermione's shoulder.

"Everything you've picked out is lovely. I don't know the first thing about pureblood dress and etiquette, so I'm more than happy to let you choose what I need," Hermione replied sincerely.

"Surely there has to be something you prefer? Maybe a color you like," Augusta questioned.

Hermione let her eyes roam across the racks of clothes, stopping abruptly when she saw something crammed between two vermillion sets of robes. Face breaking out into an ear splitting grin, she grabbed the wooden hanger and turned to face her mother. She watched as Augustas face twisted into an amused smile. Hermione's hands held a maroon pair of corduroy bell-bottoms.

After a long day spent perusing the various shops along Diagon Alley, the Longbottoms returned home. Hermione had managed to sneak into Flourish and Blotts, quickly buying several books about lycanthropy, before shrinking them down and placing them inside the pockets of her robes. Stepping out of the fireplace, Hermione was once again met with the grand view of the Longbottom drawing room. She was always in awe of the room lying ahead of her. Various shades of gold and cream were thrown elegantly about the room. Crystal chandeliers hung delicately from the ceiling, emitting a warm glow to the room below. But Hermione's favorite part were the huge bay windows that graced the entire east wall of the room. Several plush couches were placed facing the windows and Hermione adored reading there. She could sit there for hours, face down in a book.

Hermione was practically running out of the room when she heard someone calling her name. Swiftly coming to a halt, she turned to see Frank walking to meet her.

"Hermione! How was the trip? Did you enjoy Diagon Alley? I'm sure it's different from what you're used to in France!" he rushed out, smiling down at her.

Her relationship with Frank had started off a bit slow, but after a few days of getting to know each other they quickly formed a comfortable relationship. Hermione was thankful that she had gotten stuck with him as a brother and couldn't be happier that he seemed to feel the same way.

"I did! It was far busier than I expected it to be, but I found loads of things to buy! Oh! I almost forgot, I got you some chocolate frogs! I know they're your favorite," Hermione replied, rummaging through her robes for the bag from Sugarplums Sweet Shop.

"Have I ever told you that you're the best sister I've ever had?" Frank answered seriously, hands clutched to his heart.

"Frank, I'm the only sister you've ever had," Hermione snorted, turning to head back to her room.

Taking the stairs two at a time, she quickly made it to the second floor. Turning towards her wing of the vast manor, she politely spoke to the portraits of Longbottom ancestors. Her favorite painting was of a portly woman sporting a rather odd hat. Hermione gathered that she must be who gave Augusta fashion advice.

Chuckling to herself, Hermione pushed through her bedroom door. Unsurprisingly, Mimsy had fresh tea set out on her small sitting table. No matter how many times Hermione reassured the house elf that she only ever required tea in the mornings or on special occasions when asked for, the older elf simply stated, 'The young mistress must always have her teas ready at all time. You never know when a gentleman will come to call'. After preparing her tea to her liking, two sugars and a splash of cream, Hermione sat down on one of the cozy couches that bordered the fireplace. Carefully pulling the books from the pockets of her robes, she quickly scanned the index to find the chapter she sought out. Hastily turning to the listed page, Hermione started to read:

'Intricacies of The First Sanguine Moon'

Although few transformations have been formerly recorded, all of those affected by lycanthropy can expect a very painful transformation when reached by the Sanguine Moon-also known as the Full Moon. Of the few documented cases, the first phase seems to be an uncomfortable prickling of the skin within the days leading up to the Sanguine. The lycantrophe will be irritable and be more prone to lash out on those around them. Mood swings, increased eating habits, restlessness, irritability, heightened primal instincts, and sharper senses will occur. While lycantropes will already have far more enhanced senses than the average witch or wizard, their sense of smell and eyesight will become clearer. Preparing them for the hunt. The second phase will not be triggered until the Sanguine Moon has risen. This will result in the rearranging of skeletal fragments and muscle. Since no known potion has been formulated to help ease the pain, this is easily the most excruciating part of the process. Fur will sprout on limbs, teeth will elongate into fangs, mouths will form into a snout. There have been no recorded instances of lycanthropes remembering what occurs when in their wolf form. All those non-affected are advised to avoid areas where they may encounter a lycanthrope while under the Sanguine Moon. Wards are strongly recommended to those who live near heavily wooded areas, as these creatures have no regard to friends or foe when succumbing to their affliction.

Hermione felt like the wind had been knocked from her lungs. Wolfsbane had yet to be invented; she also couldn't quite recall all of the ingredients. Aconite was a given, moonwort, myrrh, but she knew something was missing. She would have to suffer the full effects of her curse. Hermione would have to suffer alone. She didn't have Remus, well not her version of him. Obviously he was in the timeline, but he didn't know her nor did he know they shared the same affliction. No, she would have to find someone she could trust.

Taking a sobering breath, Hermione forced herself to stand. She was going to tell her secret to the only other person besides Dumbledore that could help her. Hermione was going to tell Augusta Longbottom that she was a werewolf.

Merlin this day was a disaster.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Hermione glanced nervously between Frank and her mother. She hadn't expected Frank to be attending tea with their mother when she busted into the family matriarch's chambers, nor had she expected Augusta to insist that whatever Hermione had to discuss with her could be shared with Frank.

"So that's what you got in Flourish and Blotts," Augusta chuckled, sipping her tea.

"W-what do you mean?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Honestly, I know my daughter more than she seems to think I do. Did you truly think I thought nothing was off when you returned from a bookstore without a book? You spend most of your time reading in the library, it would be out of character if you didn't get something dear," Augusta explained, looking at Hermione with a fond smile.

Hermione forced her head down when she felt a blush spread across her cheeks. Of course her mother would notice how much she reads. Of course Hermione wasn't as stealthy as she thought she was.

"How could you be a werewolf? You're just H-hermione. My sister, from France. You're not a w-werewolf, they're barbaric Mum. they're beasts," Frank stuttered out, looking anywhere but his sister.

"Frank Caspian-Julien! How dare you speak ill of your sister! She is not barbaric and I should hex you for even saying such ghastly things! We do not degrade anyone afflicted by anything in this family and we will not be starting today!" Augusta chastised him with nasty look.

Hermione felt her heart swell with adoration for the witch in front of her. She had never felt so welcome in a wizarding family. Molly Weasley had been warm but always held Hermione at an arm's length, worried she would steal Harry out of Ginny's grasp. Hermione was well aware of how the wizarding world treated werewolves in 1998. It was no secret that being a werewolf in this society would greatly damage her job opportunities, pureblood or not.

Frank appeared to fold inwards on himself at the scolding he received from his mother. Lifting his eyes to meet Hermione's as he spoke,"I'm sorry. I really am. I'm a right tosser. You're not a beast, you're my swotty little sister, werewolf or not."

"I know it's a lot to take in, trust me. I didn't mean to hide this from you both but I thought I had this all under control. The full moon is in a few days so I thought I could handle my first transformation by myself but I don't think I can. I'm so scared of facing this alone again," Hermione whimpered out, feeling tears pool at the edge of her eyes.

"Oh dear, you haven't turned yet?" Augusta asked softly, staring at Hermione with concern.

Shaking her head, Hermione felt the tears fall gently down her cheeks. Suddenly Frank pulled her into a tight hug, seeming to try and chase her tears away.

"That's okay my love. We'll set up wards in the field. There's plenty of space for you to run there. An extended tent should do well, Mimsy will be alerted should you need help. We can stand outside the wards until you've completely turned. You're not going through this alone darling. You'll never go through this alone again," Augusta replied sincerely, wrapping her children in a large hug.

Longbottom Manor, August 9, 1976

Hermione was jolted from a peaceful sleep as a shiver ran throughout her body. Subconsciously she knew what day it was, anyone who had been around her the past two days knew that the full moon had came. She had lashed out far more than she ever expected. Suddenly her favorite lukewarm tea was too hot, her clothes were too scratchy, Frank's voice was too grating on her ears, Augustas perfume was too strong, the list of annoyances ran far longer than she expected them to.

Sitting up, her body felt too limp yet too firm at the same time. She was freezing but her skin was covered in a layer of sweat. Casting a tempus charm she noted it was only 5:48 in the morning, she'd have to endure at least another 12 hours of restlessness before the moon had risen.

Hermione pushed herself from the too soft bed, walking towards her ensuite bathroom. Throwing on the lights she was shocked to find her tan skin looking sickly pale, staring at her limp curls as she ran a hand through her damp hair.

She spent most of the day lost in a haze, lights seemed to be dulled, sounds were muffled. Gracefully going throughout the motions of her everyday routine. Before long she found herself standing just outside of the boundary set by the wards. A soft buzzing noise hummed from them as she approached.

Staring at the canvas tent set fifty feet ahead of her she felt a soft hand caress her cheek and distantly heard a feminine voice say, "We can't go on love, Missy will take it from here."

A sharp sob echoed through her ears, followed by, "I'm so sorry I can't protect you. I love you."

Hermione knew the owner of the voice. She knew it was Frank, but as the moon started to crawl over the horizon, her response came in a low growl.

The loud pop of apparition sounded through the clearing. Small, cold hands were grabbing Hermiones, pulling her across the boundary line. Pulling her into the tent, away from the people who promised she wouldn't have to do it alone.

Don't they know she's always been left alone?

—

Hermione could feel the moon as it rose throughout the sky. Every inch it moved went another ache through her body. She knew what was coming and she knew it was coming quickly. Her skin was covered in an unscratchable itch, her nails dug into her palms from the force of her clenching fists. The transformation was coming and the anticipation seemed to be killing her. She had watched Mimsy float about the tent all evening, preparing everything before Hermione would change. Thankfully, the chatty elf seemed to be in low spirits today and kept any comments to herself.

Hermione didn't know how long she laid on the lumpy cot but she knew the moment the moon peaked highest in the sky. A sharp pain hit her spine, a loud crack splintering through the quiet tent. Her body felt as if it had been lit aflame, her muscles seemed as though they were burning to ash inside her skin. Throwing her head back at what seemed to be the worst spasm, Hermione screamed. Distantly she heard a howl in place of her girlish scream. Body contorting inwards on itself, Hermione could feel every ounce of movement within herself. She felt as all of her bones realigned to fit her wolf counterpart, she felt her muscles slide into their new homes. Hermione felt a searing pain to her neck, her world going dark.

A blinding light seemed to be peeking through her window, Hermione shifted to turn away and was struck with the sharp aches covering her body. Snippets of the previous evening flooded her vision. Remembering the agonizing pain she had endured the night before, Hermione broke out into a loud sob. Looking down at herself, she saw blood covered bandages stretched across her chest. How could she be trusted around others when she couldn't even keep from hurting herself?

She was a monster, a beast. Only a hideous monster could mutate into something so destructive. She would never be normal ever again.

Sensing it was safe to come in, Mimsy approached slowly and carefully began cleaning her wounds. Hermione watched as she gently removed the large bandage covering her chest, gasping at the large gash that now decorated her chest. Tracing the wound with her eyes, she noted it went from her right collarbone down to the valley between her breasts. Sensing her displeasure, Mimsy quickly applied dittany to it before applying fresh bandages.

"Would the young Mistress want some food? Mimsy has made her favorite, Mistress must keep her strength up to heal," Mimsy spoke gently, placing a plate on the cot.

Hermione stared at the breakfast that seemed to consist mainly of meat. Bacon, ham, and sausage were piled highly on the plate. Inhaling a deep breath of the delicious scents, Hermione's stomach let out a loud growl. Sending a bashful smile towards the house elf, Hermione tucked into her breakfast, laughing to herself at Mimsys promises of bringing more food.

The days following the full moon were some of the worst of Hermione's life. She had never felt more useless. She spent most of her days asleep in bed as her body recuperated from the harrowing transformation she endured. The time she was actually awake was spent talking to Frank and Augusta, reading, or ensuring her mother that she was healed enough to walk about. The latter was always quickly dismissed, demanding that she needed a few more days to rest.

After the fourth day of being bed-ridden, an excited Frank busted through Hermione's bedroom doors.

"Mum said I could take you to Diagon Alley! Get up! The day is wasting!" he exclaimed happily, dragging her from the bed.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath, wincing at the quick action. She watched as her brother's face immediately dropped, now carefully grasping her arms.

"Bollocks! I'm so sorry Hermione! I didn't mean to!" Frank cried, seemingly on the verge of tears.

"It's okay, I just wasn't quite ready for the quick movements is all," she replied, gently patting his shoulder.

Shooting her a look that said he didn't fully believe her, he spoke, " Mum made sure to buy several shirts that would help cover your new scar."

Quickly nodding at him, she then shooed him from the room as she began to get dressed. Looking through her overstuffed wardrobe, she settled on a thin, white turtleneck. Knowing it would be cool enough to get away with the longsleeve shirt, she then paired it with her favorite pair of maroon bell bottoms. Hermione glanced at herself in the mirror, grateful that her face had regained its natural blush. She ran her hand across her curls, grabbed her side bag and went to find her brother.

"You're going to love it! We're going to spend the whole day together and we can get ice cream and we can check out the bookstore! You definitely deserve some new books after the other night!" Frank rattled on as they settled together inside the floo.

Grabbing a handful of floo powder, she yelled out 'Diagon Alley' before disappearing in a cloud of green smoke. Landing rather ungracefully in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione felt her brother's hands steady her, shooting him a grateful smile. Frank shot one back and pulled her through the dimly lit bar and into the bustling street Diagon Alley.

The two siblings spent most of the day wandering into the different shops. They bought several books at Flourish and Blotts, deciding to have them owled home instead of carrying them. Frank insisted they stop by Sugarplum's Sweet Shop to stock up on jelly slugs, before demanding they get ice cream.

Hermione was smiling widely as they walked towards Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream parlor. She could practically taste the strawberry ice cream in her mouth. The pair were almost to the stoop when they heard a deep voice call, "Franky boy! Who's the bird?"

Whipping around Hermione felt her chest tightened. In front of her stood a man she knew to be dead. In front of her stood Sirius Black. The familiar handsomeness of the Black heir was now accompanied by the happiness of youth. He looked every bit the boy he spoke fondly about. A head of black curly hair and smoky grey eyes. Sirius Black was for lack of better words, bloody fit.

Hermione quickly averted her eyes until they settled on the other two boys with him. Peter Pettigrew stood shorter than his two companions, yet no less enthusiastic. He held an air of confidence about him that Hermione had never seen. It was as if just being around the other two kept him in high spirits. He looked nothing like the traitor that Hermione knew he would grow to be.

Lastly, her eyes focused on the spitting image of her best friend. James Potter was tall with hair that seemed to stick up in every direction, like he purposefully styled it that way. But Hermione knew better, she had watched Harry fight with his hair for so long that she knew it just landed that way.

She felt her throat go dry at the idea of meeting Harry's parents. She had never even thought about them and certainly never realized she would be around them, knowing their eventual fate. Looking for the fourth member of the Marauders, she was thankful Remus wasn't there today. Her furry secret was safe for a bit longer.

"Sirius! James! Peter! Lucky seeing you here! This isn't a bird! This is Hermione, my sister. She'll be transferring to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons this year," Frank spoke happily, showing her off to his friends.

Hermione shot a dazzling smile to the three boys, receiving only two in return. She watched as Sirius regarded her with a guarded look, before turning his attention elsewhere.

"Lovely to make your acquaintance! Are you hoping for Gryffindor?" Peter greeted sincerely, quickly shaking her hand.

"Oh um, I'm not really sure honestly. I guess I'll just have to see where I end up," Hermione replied quietly.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Potter, but you can call me James," James replied, sending her a quick wink.

"Oi! Lay off it mate! That's my sister! Aren't you hopelessly in love with Evans anyways?" Frank snapped, trying to mask his annoyed expression.

"Sorry sorry, I'll stop," James apologized, raising his hands in surrender.

"It's fine really! Happened quite a bit back in France," Hermione laughed nervously, trying to not look at the sulking Black heir.

Seeming to notice his friend's lack of introduction, James prodded, "Padfoot, have some manners. Honestly, you call yourself a pureblood."

"My apologies. I'm Sirius Black, beloved Gryffindor prince. It's not a pleasure," Sirius sassily replied, seeming unimpressed with Hermione.

"Pleasure, but you don't look like a prince to me," Hermione bit back.

Eyebrows raised, he pushed his friends aside, coming to stand directly in front of Hermione. He was so close she could smell his aftershave, she watched as he took a deep breath. Shooting her a suspicious look he replied, "That's unfortunate considering you look every bit the pureblood prude I expected you to be."