The air was thick with smoke, only the flash of spellfire cutting through the haze. Hermione chased Ron and Harry through the castle, wand in hand, as they fought their way towards the Shrieking Shack. Harry's ability to manipulate his connection with Voldemort, to see through his eyes, left a deep-rooted sense of foreboding in her chest. Hermione had an idea of what it might mean and the possibility made her nauseous.
As they descended the staircase, Harry grabbed her arm. Hard.
"Harry? What's wr—" the question died on her lips, a ragged gasp tearing from her throat in its place.
Fenrir Greyback was hunched over a small body at the foot of the stairs. At the sound of her gasp the werewolf jerked his head up to look at them, jaw dripping blood, and Hermione felt like a piece of her soul was being ripped from her chest.
It was Lavender.
Her head was turned away from the trio, strawberry blond hair matted with blood as it poured from her face and down her neck. A blind fury overwhelmed Hermione as she stared down at Lavender's body, and she surged forward.
She felt Harry attempt to stop her, to pull her back, but it was pointless.
Her hand was steady as she held the wolf at wand point — even when his laughter made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
Greyback tilted his head curiously with a leer, "Hello, pup. Are you lost?" His lips drew back in the semblance of a smile and his teeth were stained red.
Hermione couldn't speak, emotion welling in her throat as she watched the blood dripping from his chin. Lavender's blood. But it wasn't sadness she felt, clawing its way up her throat — it was anger. A white-hot rage that flowed through her veins and set her on fire with the kind of reckless, foolhardy bravery her house was known for.
She jerked her focus from his chin and stared into his eyes. There was a sort of depraved excitement there, partially hidden behind a malicious glint as he watched her. Greyback was undoubtedly a monster — the worst of the worst.
He hurt Remus when he was just a boy.
He killed Lavender.
He would only continue to cause more pain, more devastation, more death.
"Fuck you," she hissed, "this is for Lavender. Sectumsempra."
Greyback smirked at her, bold in the knowledge that his lycanthropy kept him safe from most hexes and curses. What he didn't know — and what Hermione did — was that sectumsempra was an inherently dark curse, created with the sole purpose of irreparable harm. Werewolves were immune to a lot of magic, but not this.
This could only be healed with a very specific counter-curse — one she wouldn't be sharing.
Hermione stared him down defiantly, wand-hand unwavering, as violent red gashes opened across his body. As the cursed wounds fought against his advanced healing, blood seeped through his clothes.
The werewolf's hand casually went to his neck and he looked down in shock as it came away bloody. Greyback moved towards her but, slightly dizzy from the rampant blood loss, tripped instead and fell to his knees. Eyes wide, he looked up at her, "How?"
She stepped closer, ignoring the sounds of protest from Harry and Ron behind her. Like either of them would hesitate to do the same for Ginny if someone hurt her. Brutalized her. She bit back a scream as she stared down at the creature responsible for so much of the Wizarding World's ingrained prejudice towards werewolves.
With the image of the girl she loved — because it was easy to admit, now, in death, that she loved her — bloodied and broken on the castle floor in mind, Hermione pointed her wand at Greyback and whispered, "Avada Kedavra."
The killing curse left her lips so easily, as if she'd always held the capacity for such darkness in her heart. She didn't register the shout that left Ron or the way Harry was shaking her shoulders. Hermione spared a single glance for the lifeless eyes of the monster at her feet before hurrying to Lavender's side and dropping to her knees.
The tears came then, as she bowed her head over the girl who hurt her so deeply; the girl she was loath to admit she had fallen in love with.
"Goddamnit, Lav," Hermione choked out, a sob cutting off any other sentiment before she could express it.
She reached out, brushed her knuckles against her face when Lavender's eyelids fluttered. Gasping, Hermione checked for her pulse. It was weak, but it was there.
"Harry!" she shrieked, "Harry, she's not dead."
The Boy-Who-Lived fell to the found on the other side of her body, his glasses cracked and crooked as he looked up at her, "What can I do?"
Hermione's stomach twisted and she thought she might be sick. Harry had a mission — one that did not include rescuing the ex-girlfriend of both of his best friends. She looked up at him pleadingly and instinctively knew that he could understand the desperation on her face.
"Can we place her wounds in stasis and bring her with us until we find someone who can take her to Pomfrey?" he asked hesitantly, unfamiliar with the idea that Hermione didn't know what to do.
She nodded, eyes unfocused, and frantically reached for her beaded bag, "I have blood-replenishers. That should at least keep her alive until we find a healer."
Ron cleared his throat from where he stood gawking at Lavender's feet, his voice higher than normal as he asked, "Are we just pretending you didn't just cast a bloody unforgivable?! Mione, I thought you hated Lavender? Why did you just murder someone for her? Does anyone want to explain to me what's going on right now?"
Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance and answered in sync, "No."
The redhead frowned, brow furrowed, but nodded, "Later, then."
Popping the cork on a blood-replenisher, Hermione poured it in Lavender's mouth and massaged her throat to ensure she swallowed. Casting stasis charms across her wounds, she watched as the flow of blood slowly trickled to a halt. Letting out a breath once the blonde was no longer in danger of bleeding out, she got to her feet.
Harry pointed his wand at the prone body but Hermione stopped him before he could cast the spell. "Let me," her voice shook only slightly as she spoke, "Wingardium Leviosa."
Hermione levitated Lavender, while Harry and Ron bracketed her like sentinels. Finally, they came across Padma Patil corralling injured people towards the Great Hall. The mediwitch-in-training did a double-take at the sight of her sister's best friend, floating and covered in blood, and looked to Hermione for more information.
"Greyback," she said flatly.
Padma visibly flinched but took over the levitation spell from Hermione, "I'll take her this way, then."
She looked back at the three of them with a raised brow, "I'm sure the three of you have somewhere else you need to be. Preferably ending this. You can leave her with me," Padma glanced at Hermione, "I promise she'll be in good hands."
The brunette witch frowned, hesitant to leave the blond regardless of how safe she'd be with Padma. She looked to her friends, knowing there wasn't a choice here but desperately wishing for one anyway.
It was the look on Harry's face that solidified her decision — the reminder that if her instincts were correct, she didn't have much longer with him. She stepped forward and brushed her hand over Lavender's hair. Ignoring both the blood and their audience, she pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head.
"You better be alive when I get back," she whispered against her skin before forcing herself to pull back.
Harry offered her his hand, and Hermione held onto it like a lifeline. She forcibly choked down a sob when Lavender didn't respond, the stillness of the normally vibrant girl deeply unsettling. She turned, reaching for Ron's hand, and squeezed both of their hands when he acquiesced.
Forcing a smile, Harry said, "To the Shrieking Shack, then?"
Hermione and Ron exchanged a look, tinged with the fear and desperation they felt but wouldn't acknowledge, before nodding and following Harry into danger just as they had since they were eleven.
Hermione watched from a distance as the Weasleys gathered Harry into their circle, surrounding Fred where he lay on the cold castle floor. It hadn't been intentional, their exclusion of her, but it happened all the same. Harry had died — and come back to life — and the Weasleys wanted him close. Needed him close. They couldn't lose their surrogate son, not right after the loss of one of their own. Hermione understood the feeling. She also wanted to hold her best friend, her brother close too. To ensure that he was safe and alive and breathing and that no one could wrench him from her grasp once more.
It wasn't until Harry noticed the lack of her presence that he moved away from the group, seeking her out in the crowd. Emerald green eyes locked on her and a relieved grin crossed his face as he hurried towards her.
"Mi," he whispered, folding himself into her embrace before she could even move.
Hermione melted with a sigh, the tension leaving her body as her brother wrapped himself around her, "Harry."
Pulling back, Harry held her shoulders and examined her with a keen eye. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and smiled softly at her, "You should go find her."
Stilling, Hermione looked up at him wide-eyed, "Harry…"
He shook his head, "Don't deny it. You killed Greyback for her, Mi, I was there," pausing, Harry took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt, "and don't think we won't be talking about that. But it's not what matters right now — what matters is that you find Lavender and you tell her how you feel."
She blanched and he must've read the panic on her face because he wrapped his arms around her once more, "Don't worry. You're my sister, Hermione, and as long as you're happy, I'm happy for you. Nothing could change that."
Sniffling, she threw her arms around him and squeezed, eliciting a laugh from him. Hermione reveled in the sound of it, so unfamiliar to her in the last few months.
"Now go," he extracted himself from her grasp and playfully pushed her towards the doors, "find her and make sure she's okay and tell her how you feel." The last part of his instructions was said sternly and Hermione knew him well enough to understand that he was gently reminding her she could have lost Lavender before she ever really even had her.
With a nod to her brother and a nervous grin on her face, Hermione rushed out of the Great Hall and towards the hospital wing. When she arrived, it was to a rather frazzled Padma checking on patients in makeshift cots. She craned her neck, glancing around the wing, but didn't spot Lavender anywhere. Clearing her throat, she waited until the mediwitch reached a natural stopping point and stepped forward.
"Hi Padma, I'm looking for Lavender," the statement ended more like a question as the Ravenclaw glanced up at her, a slight furrow in her brows.
She sighed, stretching as she spoke, "Madam Pomfrey treated her but due to the...nature of her injuries, she decided to allow her private accommodations. They're near the Charms classrooms," the other witch lowered her voice, "there's a portrait of a young milkmaid on the wall. I heard her say the password is Aphrodite."
Hermione sent her a grateful smile, "Thank you, Padma."
She grinned, "Go get your girl."
Hermione spluttered and Padma tipped her head back in laughter, "Oh, Granger. You forget Parvati is my sister — I know more than you might think," her tone grew serious, "and I know Lavender has been going out of her mind worried about you for the past year. Now, go !"
Half-running out the door, Hermione took off towards the Charms corridor. Her eyes scanned the castle as she went, her heart breaking at the sight of the widespread damage. Sooner than she thought possible, Hermione was standing in front of the portrait Padma had described to her.
Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Aphrodite."
The portrait swung wide-open and Hermione stepped inside. The room wasn't anything special; nothing more than just a bed, chair, bedside table, and wardrobe. Lying in the bed, her blond hair no longer matted with blood and splayed out across the pillow, was Lavender.
Hermione felt her chest tighten almost painfully at how frail she looked lying there, covered in bandages. The largest one covered her ribcage, wrapping up and around to her left shoulder. There was a smattering of smaller bandages all over her body, including on the left side of her face. She could just see the tip of a wound cutting through her left eyebrow before it disappeared behind the white gauze.
All Hermione could think about was crawling into bed with her, pulling her into her arms, and keeping her safe. It took every ounce of her self-control to remain stationary by the door. After all, she didn't really know where they stood. After Lavender and Ron split, Hermione continued to silence and charm her curtain closed. She didn't know if Lavender ever tried to get in her bed again — she wasn't quite sure if she wasn't to know, if she was being honest with herself.
If she was being honest with herself, she admitted she was gay. She acknowledged that she was in love with Lavender Brown. And she was certain that the thought of admitting either of those things to anyone other than Harry — but especially Lavender — made her nauseous.
It had been excruciating to see her with Ron during sixth year, disgustingly enthusiastic with their affections in every possible place in the castle.
The only one who knew much of anything was Harry. And even so, he only knew bits and pieces; snippets he deciphered during sixth year, and partial stories she had shared with him when it was just the two of them on the run. But she hadn't officially come out to him or explained her history with Lavender — although she wasn't sure that mattered to him, seeing as how he all but shoved her out of the Great Hall and towards the blonde girl earlier.
She stepped further into the room, quietly approaching the lone bed. Reaching out, she smoothed Lavender's hair off her face and cupped her cheek, thumb smoothing back and forth across her cheekbone. Hermione sighed, desperately missing being this close to her.
Lavender stirred, blinking herself awake, and she hastily took a step back. Blue eyes flashed open to meet brown, and she braced herself for the other girl's reaction. Hermione tried to keep her face as neutral as possible, waiting as Lavender processed her presence.
Confused, she croaked, "Hi?"
Hermione smiled tearily, "Hi, Lav."
"Why are you here?" she asked, not unkindly, as her gaze darted around her room.
The brunette wrung her fingers and quietly asked, "How much do you remember?"
Lavender frowned, eyes locked on some unseen point in the distance as she thought back. "I remember fighting. I was in the lower part of the castle when something grabbed me? It's blurry though, I don't...Hermione, what happened?"
She hesitated before clearing her throat and explaining as gently as possible, "You were attacked. I don't know when or how it happened, but we found you. It was—"
"Greyback," Lavender breathed, her tone horrified. "It was Greyback. I— oh gods I remember. He was so massive and none of my spells were effective against him. He…" her hands flew to her bandages, "Merlin, am I a werewolf now? Did he infect me?!"
"It wasn't a full moon, technically, so it's not guaranteed but...he was partially transformed. We won't know how you're affected until the next full moon," Hermione's voice broke, "I'm so sorry, Lav. I was almost too late."
The blonde's eyes hardened, "So that's why you're here, then? Because you feel guilty?"
Hermione hurried to correct her, "No! No, that's not it at all. I'm here because—" I love you. Because I needed to know you were okay. Because it hurts when you're not near me. She quickly cut herself off, the heady feeling of being so close to Lavender making her walls come down. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighed but ultimately stayed quiet.
"No." Lavender's voice was quiet but threatening. "No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to just disappear for a year and then come hurtling back into my life — saving me, from what I've been told! — like nothing changed. Fuck, Hermione, you're Undesirable Number Two! I've been so worried about you," her voice cracked, "so you don't get to just come in here, while I'm covered in scars and probably a bloody fucking werewolf and tell me that you love me. I don't need your pity and I don't need your help. I haven't had you for the last year and I did just fine — I most certainly don't need you now." Hermione just barely made out her whispered words over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears, "Please don't tell me you love me."
It felt like the Earth had tilted on its axis. She hadn't wanted to leave Lavender and she didn't pity her for her scars or her potential lycanthropy. It wasn't like she'd been off on vacation — she'd been on the run! Huffing indignantly, she spluttered "You think I pity you? You think I wanted to leave? You think I haven't been terrified, both for myself and for the people we left behind every single day? For fucks sake, Lav, we were on the run! And do you know me at all? Why in Godric's name would I ever judge you for having lycanthropy, if you even do?!"
Beautiful features twisting into something foul, Lavender sneered, "I don't want to be Hermione Granger's newest pet project. Her pity case. We all knew about it with your SPEW third-year — and I don't want to have bloody buttons with my face on them!"
Throwing her hands in the air, Hermione growled, "First of all, it was S.P.E.W. Second, I'm not going to make you fucking buttons! You're not my pet project — I've been in love with you since sixth year, when you broke my heart, by the way, so I don't really think you're being very fair right now!"
Lavender stared at her, mouth gaping, before bursting into tears.
Hermione softened and stepped towards her, hand outstretched. Tentatively, she rested her hand on her shoulder and, when Lavender didn't reject her, she carefully crawled into the bed and wrapped herself around the other girl.
"I'm— I'm sorry," Lavender choked out between sobs, "I never wanted to hurt you, I just got scared of how I felt and Ron was there and I panicked and I'm so sorry."
"Shhh, it's okay," Hermione shushed her, "it was a while ago, we're okay now."
The blonde refused to be placated and sniffled pitifully, "I don't deserve your kindness. I don't deserve you. You should have just let that bloody werewolf kill me."
Hermione clenched her jaw and emphatically grabbed Lavender's chin, forcing blue eyes to meet brown, "Don't you dare say anything like that ever again, Lavender Brown. You are incredible and lovely and important and I won't have you wishing you were dead. I almost— Gods, Lav I almost lost you." Hermione dropped her forehead to Lavender's and her voice dropped to a whisper, "I thought you were dead."
Lavender's lips were gentle against her skin; hesitant. She mapped Hermione's face in featherlight kisses; from her forehead, eyebrows, nose, cheeks, chin, finally making her way to her mouth. It felt like instinct to deepen the kiss, but Hermione held back. She'd been hurt by Lavender before and she wasn't sure if she could survive it again. Pulling back, she stared into wide blue eyes that were watching her with a familiar sort of scrutiny.
"I almost died. I'm probably— Godric, I'm probably a fucking werewolf but I almost died Hermione and all I could think about was that I hadn't told you. Hadn't told you that I was sorry, that I never wanted to hurt you, that I love you," Hermione let out a watery sort of laugh but Lavender continued, "because I do. Love you, that is. When the Ministry fell I was so worried for you and then you didn't show up for seventh year which was obviously the right decision because you never would have made it off the train but gods it felt like part of my very soul was missing."
Eyes burning with unshed tears, Hermione kissed her fiercely. Months of pent-up longing for the girl in her arms had her deepening the kiss, devouring her mouth as if her very life depended on it. They two only separated when the need to breathe became too great; chests heaving as they tried to regain a sort of equilibrium in the aftermath.
"I love you," Lavender breathed, "and if you'll have me, I'm yours."
Hermione smiled so widely her cheeks hurt, "I love you too. Honestly, I think I've been yours since the moment you crawled in my bed and held me through my nightmares — and I want you to be mine."
It wasn't clear who moved first, but in an amalgamation of lips and teeth and tongue, the two were connected once more. Hermione wrapped herself around Lavender and slid her hand under the covers to find her chest covered with only a flimsy bra. Groaning into her mouth, Hermione kneaded her breast through the material and brushed her fingers across her pert nipple.
"Fuck, I missed you," she hissed against her lips.
Lavender giggled, "Language, Miss Granger."
When the haze cleared, they were both boneless; limbs intertwined as they basked in the glow of their respective orgasms. Lavender snuggled against Hermione, glancing up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, and Hermione pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. She started to say something but Lavender shushed her before nuzzling deeper into her embrace.
"Sleep now, talk later," the blonde muttered against her chest and Hermione laughed quietly, content to hold her witch in her arms for at least a few hours before the rest of the world crept back in.
Hermione paced frantically as she waited for Lavender to return to the room they shared in Grimmauld Place. After they had resurfaced that night in the castle, Harry didn't give them a choice about moving into the Black ancestral home. Not only did he have the room but there was also a basement fully equipped with handling a werewolf during the full moon.
Which is what had Hermione currently stalking back and forth across their room, staring at the door as she waited for it to open.
Last night had been a full moon.
The first full moon since the Battle of Hogwarts, as they were calling it. And because Lavender couldn't take wolfsbane until they knew the full extent of her infection, Hermione was stressed. Her girlfriend had barred her from getting close to the basement for the entire night, going as far as to ward the area with a boundary ward that Hermione taught her. She huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at the door. Without knowing how the night had gone, she was bloody fucking worried.
Among being concerned for Lavender's well-being and overall safety, Hermione was also worried about them. Lavender had expressed her fears if she did end up shifting — as they assumed she would — what sort of impact her wolf would have on their relationship. If she would be compelled to seek out men, in some sort of fucked-up biological urge. If she would have a mate… one that wasn't Hermione.
Shooting another nasty look at the door, Hermione decided if Lavender didn't come upstairs in the next five minutes she would go downstairs regardless. Just as her patience ran out, Lavender opened the door.
She looked exhausted but physically fine. No new scars were visible at first glance but Hermione's eyes drifted to the scar that bisected the left side of her face, cutting through her eyebrow on that side. The scars Greyback had left across her body would never disappear entirely.
As their gazes met Hermione attempted to decipher her lover's disposition. Something primal and fierce flickered through Lavender's expression and before she could blink, the blonde was across the room and into her arms. As Lavender inhaled deeply, the tension left her body and Hermione pulled away so she could look at her.
"Well?"
Lavender beamed, "Good morning, sweetheart." She nuzzled into her neck again and Hermione felt tears burn in her eyes. She stepped back, wanting to visibly confirm that she was okay.
"You're okay, then? Did you transform?" she asked, worriedly.
Lavender shuddered, "I did...it wasn't pleasant but I'm okay. I can hear the wolf now, in my head, and the moment we saw you, I knew. The urge to claim you, to mark you — it's overwhelming. And that can only mean one thing. You're mine. Ours." Her grin was giddy as she pressed soft kisses all over Hermione's face. "Mate."
Hermione wrapped her arms around Lavender's waist, hands sliding down her back to squeeze her bum, "I've been yours, you silly witch," she mumbled against her shoulder.
"Well," she nosed against Hermione's neck, pressing a firm kiss to her pulse point, "now everyone will know you're mine."
The brunette shivered in response. "What exactly does this claiming entail?"
"I'll bite you," Lavender's tongue flicked out to lick a hot stripe at the junction between her neck and shoulder, "right here. And then we'll be bonded. A pretty little mark on display, for the world to see."
Hermione never thought she wanted to be so overwhelmingly possessed by someone — until Lavender's more wolfish traits started showing. The possessiveness she showed was intoxicating, much to Hermione's chagrin. She didn't want to find her girlfriend's tendency to growl at harmless strangers who dared to look at her the wrong way attractive, but fuck if it wasn't so bloody hot.
A whimper snuck out from the back of her throat and Lavender chuckled against her neck, "Do you like that, sweetheart? Do you want everyone to see how I've marked you as mine?" Hermione nodded and Lavender stepped back, a wild glint in her eyes, "Get on the bed."
"Will you please come here?" she begged, not ashamed of how badly she needed Lavender right now. It was her fault, after all, with the way she came storming in their room talking about mates and claiming and being hers.
Her girlfriend smiled softly and, reflexively, went to remove her clothes — but she hesitated.
Hermione saw the movement her insecurity seeped in and crawled down to the foot of the bed, reaching to cup Lavender's face with her hands. She refused to let her look away, forcing her to listen to what she had to say.
"Sixth year, when I told you my scar made me hideous, you scoffed at me. You told me I had lost the plot and that I was, and I quote, 'bloody fucking fit'. So I'm going to return the favor. You, Lavender Brown, are bloody fucking fit. You're beautiful and stunning and entirely too lovely for your own good." Hermione pressed a firm kiss to Lavender's lips and one to her brow, right over the scar there, leaving no room for discussion. "We are greater than the sum of our scars, my love."
Kissing her once more before pulling away, Hermione crawled back up the bed and laid down. Crooking a finger at Lavender, she spread her legs again, "Now, get your fit little arse over here and kiss me."
Seeking confirmation, Lavender leaned back to meet her eyes, "You're sure? It's permanent — there's no undoing a werewolf mating bond."
Hermione smiled and nodded, "I want you to mark me."
When she came to, it was to the sensation of Lavender nuzzling against her, licking her bite mark clean — a gesture that should have felt strange but was instead, oddly soothing.
Sighing softly, Hermione reached out to smooth her hand over Lavender's hair as she preened. Her girlfriend — her mate, the thought made her blush — had to be exhausted after her transformation the night before. Perhaps a mid-morning kip would be good for them both.
Obviously thinking similarly, Lavender wrapped herself around Hermione tightly. Nuzzling into her neck with a soft kiss to her rapidly healing mark, she sighed happily, "Love you."
Even now, she could barely keep the smile off her face when Lavender declared her feelings so casually. Pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, "I know," Hermione sighed, content. "I love you too, Lav."