Chapter 2
It had been almost three years, now. It was the last day of sixth year, the last few hours at Hogwarts before she was tucked into a train-compartment-full of friends, on their way home. She had gotten a letter, just yesterday; in a month, she would be due at the Ministry office. To comply with the terms of her agreement, the letter said. To fulfill the duties of her enslavement, the letter meant.
For, as the bite had made her slave to the moon, the curse had made her slave to a balding ministry official. The Bastard, as she and Ambell had taken to calling the corrupt idiot who'd "rescued" them, had left the book on werewolves with the girls for two full days. They had begun reading straight away, but found mostly only frustration; the author danced around for a dozen chapters of poetic script before finally coming out and explaining anything. Once he'd really begun on his topic, however, he'd done so with gusto, packing all the information needed into the five remaining chapters. According to the book, a she-wolf, bitten and turned on any full moon occurring in June, held "Powers born of moon and summer; strength and weakness of wolf and woman". In plain English, as they sorted out from that and other bits of over-zealous description, they were super-wolves, but also unique. They had a chance at control over the wolf.
Should either of them, once transformed, encounter a male wolf, in wolf form, there were two possible outcomes. If she bested him, as Hermione and Ambell had bested Mark, she would be free of the curse for three years' time. If, however, the he-wolf bested her, he would gain three things: control over the wolf (both his and her own), her as a mate, and legal /ownership/ of her. While the first two were reactions of the wolf, the third, the ownership, was due mostly to a ministry statute that had never been protested. It also held significance, in that a werewolf could not own anything in the wizarding world; it was a testament that /he/ was officially re-instated as a full member of wizarding society. /He/ would no longer, at least in the ministry's eyes, truly be a werewolf.
Unfortunately for her, in the event a he-wolf beat her, she was likely to become entirely subservient. She would be bonded to him, able to feel, to a degree, what he felt. Her entire nature would become devoted to pleasing him. The severity of the change would depend on how easily he won the battle for dominance. If he won quickly, she would lose all resemblance to her former self, becoming whatever he wished for. Fortunately, this was unlikely. Since they had been turned on a solstice, not merely in June, they were more powerful than they would otherwise have been. Of almost unlimited power, actually. There was virtually no chance that anyone, ever, would best her or Ambell.
Which was almost a shame. It would be worth becoming a mindless automaton, to be free of the curse. There were also… other benefits to consider. Mated werewolves were practically immortal, compared to their unmated counterparts. They lived for hundreds of years, the longest being nearly a thousand. The mating of a June-turned she-wolf, for werewolves, was like an anti-curse; it turned nearly all the disadvantages of the curse into advantages.
In the end, after reading the book, it had been ridiculously obvious, what the too-soon-balding ministry official had wanted of the two girls. They knew, as he had told them, that he would hold Mark's death over their heads, to force them to comply. That he would, if given half a chance, turn them over to the Dementors, having full ministry backing as he did so. Smart as the two girls were, they quickly worked out what he was likely to want of them. He would keep their secret; let them live their lives, in exchange for their appearance at the full moon of every third year. He would sell, to the highest bidders among many desperate werewolves, the right to spend the moon with one of the girls. It was a chance to end the curse, to lead a normal life, and many would give up whatever they had, and whatever they could get, just for that chance. And every time, without fail, they would destroy whomever attempted it.
It was nearly ingenious. It could make him almost unimaginably rich. It would, at the least, give him a chance to kill off a good number of werewolves. And those men would walk willingly to their deaths.
He had expected the girls to be shocked, afraid, demoralized when he told them his demands, in exchange for his silence. When he had come back to discuss "terms" with them, he had found them quite composed. In fact, he had found the two girls, heads together, noses in the werewolf book, carefully contemplating what demands they would make. They had torn a blank page from the back of the book, and were writing out a list, parchment between them. After all, not even the threat of being soulless was enough to make them entirely give up their lives.
They knew there were limits, though. They were hardly in a position to demand the world. They had gotten his silence, for one. They'd also gotten a binding, magical contract, which would immediately alert the media and the ministry, magically, should he give away the girls' secret or make any demands on their lives outside of the once-every-three-years obligation. He had included a clause, unfortunately, that would alert him immediately should they ever mention anything to do with him or their condition to anyone at all, or intentionally allowed the information to be found out. The girls had then also required that arrangements would be made discreetly enough that no-one would suspect where they went. Their parents, friends, families, anyone who asked would be informed that the girls had been selected for a giveaway, and were away on a free trip.
The Bastard had expected to have to force the girls to return every three years, and had been surprised enough to acquiesce to their demands. The girls had, apparently, read the book more carefully than he had. The second last chapter was devoted entirely to she-wolves born of summer solstices. "Powerful" was a kind way of putting it. If they weren't occupied with the kill-or-be-enslaved ritual on that third years' full moon, there was no cage, no bar in the world that would hold them. They would tear through everything in their path until they found another he-wolf, taking out frustration on every living thing by completely destroying it. Not even animals would be safe. Only death and destruction would be left in their wake.
The two girls refused to allow that. They had vowed, by the time they'd read to the end of that chapter, never to let that happen. At first, when they realized what The Bastard wanted, that he intended to provide them with willing victims, they had been disgusted, however unwilling to fight their captor. But then, they realized the benefit of such a situation. The responsibility, the guilt, would be his, if they agreed to go along with it. The Bastard would get his money, kill off some werewolves, and they would keep from maiming the population of a small town. It was a solution, after all, however crude. It was the price of three years' freedom.
They had talked, then, about trying to really find a mate. The book said it was possible, technically, and that the mate-wolf didn't necessarily have to be physically stronger. It offered an example of a highly unlikely situation involving the "finding" of one's "true" mate, and an ancient bit of ritual blood-magic. According to the solstice chapter, the she-wolf, under those circumstances, could be easily subdued by her "true" mate. Unfortunately, it didn't give any suggestions on how one would know who that was, and the girls had no idea how they would find such a thing out. It also suggested that if the he-wolf was simply mentally stronger, it was possible for him to win. That particular suggestion was comfort to neither Ambell, the mathematical genius, nor Hermione, who'd scored the highest OWL's in a century.
The book ended that chapter with several pages of detailed illustrations. They carefully depicted the aftermath from solstice-born she-wolves who changed away from any other werewolves. Once they'd swallowed down the bile that rose in reaction to such images, the two girls swore to spend the week leading up to each dangerous moonrise together. They also swore that they would never allow that to happen; that if worst came to worst, they would ensure the other died before moonrise.
If she could have managed not to feel horrible for those werewolves who would come to her, trying to rid themselves of the curse, she could've said that what The Bastard had offered them was almost a good thing. After all, they could live the rest of their time free from the curse. As part of the terms of the agreement, Hermione and Ambell had even managed to ensure that they would never again have to see what was left. That they would never again witness the aftermath of the moon, as Hermione'd had to with Mark. Yet, no matter what happened, Hermione knew it would haunt her. The faces, surely, would haunt her, as Mark's had these last three years.
Yet the problem, just now, lay not in this. The problem was that the Order had decided she needed to spend the summer at Headquarters, and she was currently in possession of a letter to that effect. They expected her to spend the summer "protected", tucked away in the room she'd shared with Ginny last summer. Which might have been good, and fun, and enjoyable; the time spent in HQ had been all of those last year. Even if it had been a simple matter of having to leave in four weeks, or three to meet Ambell, it would have worked.
Except that, as the third year since Mark came to a close, she could feel the wolf resurfacing. Her scent was changing. She had learned, from "the book", ways to mask it in every-day situations. She supposed she had enough skill, by now, to walk through a crowd of inattentive werewolves, and have them think her fully human. But she wouldn't be stuck with unfocused idiots, or wandering about in a crowd where the scent could be assumed to come from someone else. Remus Lupin was far from stupid, and he would be the only other one at Headquarters. For nearly a whole summer.
He would know. She could hide the smell of the wolf. But the wolf within her was only nearing three years old, and Professor Lupin had been a werewolf for nearly all his life. She sincerely doubted it would take him long to figure it out. The wolf within her professor would hardly allow him to fall for the tricks of a pup. Even bar that, she knew her former professor was a talented Legillimens. Remus would know.
And he wouldn't let it go.
And then…
And then everything would fall apart.
He would be shocked. Of that, she was certain. Beyond that, she didn't suppose she knew him well enough to presume his reaction. It would be mild-mannered, she was sure. She couldn't imagine any sort of outburst of the man, not when he had faced even his best friends' murderer calmly, back in third year. He would give a reprimand for not telling anyone sooner, perhaps, and that would be nearly all. Except that then he would proceed to inform those who he felt needed to know.
First to find out would be the order. They would watch her, they would pity her. They would search and research, telling her she certainly hadn't thought of everything. They would try to find a way to keep her from the fight, but also from killing herself. They would certainly protect her from the man from the ministry, and might, perhaps, save Ambell as well. But they wouldn't, then, be content to let her die in peace, as she very much wished.
They would force her to hope, to believe. And then they would tell her friends.
Ron would be furious. Hermione doubted he'd go near her, at all. Harry would be hurt so badly, by not only her own pain, but by what he would perceive a lack of trust. They would likely avoid her, whether in anger or revulsion or pain, and only speak to her again just before the end. For she, once the Order knew, would have little option but to take her life. They'd never let her be "used" by the ministry. And, honestly, if Ambell was either protected by the Order or already worse-than-dead, she'd choose death over harming another, leaving another like Mark.
Hermione paused. Except that Harry and Ron would know her well enough to expect that. And, she knew, just as they had been told of her secret, Hermione's two best friends would be told of the only "cure". Hermione shuddered. She could almost hear them, trying to talk Lupin into it. And the man was so reserved, so gentle of spirit, that Hermione knew exactly what the outcome of that would be. No, she wouldn't let that happen. Not to her, not to her friends, and not to Professor Lupin.
It was one thing to consider a nameless werewolf in Mark's place, to have no face to associate with the body that would be left behind, but to do that to someone she /knew/. She would end up living, every day, with his face haunting her dreams, alongside Mark's. Only to be forced, three years later, to deal with this yet again. No. Whatever the cost, she would not be the cause of Remus' death.
It had to be prevented, she had to prevent it, at all costs. Any and all costs. She had to get out of here, and get out now. The speed of her pacing increased. She was nearly frantic. Her wolf was surfacing, as it hadn't since three years ago, screaming at finding itself in another cage.
She was pacing ridiculously fast, now, and she knew it. She had to find the answer, there had to be an answer. She was no longer the thirteen year old, locked in a cage, bitten and frightened by the changes. There was something, something obvious, and she was overlooking it. She could /feel/ it. Something, hidden in her line of reasoning, that was so obvious…
The order. Ambell. What had it been? It had to be, it was something… something with… Headquarters… Remus… Ambell…
"That's it! Oh, but it's so obvious!" Hermione exclaimed. "All I have to do, is tell the Order that I'll only stay if I can bring her with me. She'd have been in as much danger as I would have, anyways, being my best friend. I'll tell them I think it inappropriate to stay for the whole summer with just my professor. And it's not like they can be afraid she'll give away the location. The fidelus charm would prevent it."
There was no way Hermione could have put Ambell under Order protection without being sent to Grimauld place, as it would have required someone be informed of the reason. And any word about what she was, or why she needed protection, would have activated the secrecy clause in the magical contract. This way, there wouldn't be time enough for The Bastard to act before Ambell would be safely tucked away; he would have no way of knowing that the Order had dropped by to pick her up until it was too late. The situation wasn't entirely positive, though, as it was also the blood red signature to Hermione's own death warrant.
Lupin would sacrifice himself, she was sure, for the girls' sake. But if he were to have any chance at survival, Hermione would have to be… somewhere else. Ambell didn't know Lupin, wouldn't be haunted the way Hermione would be by his death. And Ambell was, by far, the less aggressive of the two girls. Both their personalities had shifted, just a bit, since the change, and Hermione was, most definitely, the Alpha of their little "pack". Perhaps, just perhaps, Lupin could best Ambell (though the margin would surely be small, but then – all the better if he only just barely beat her), and they would live, together, for the next several hundred years. Free from the curse. Hermione smiled. It was almost like a fairytale.
She swore to herself, then and there, that she would see her plan succeed.
And she would go to her death quietly, filled with those visions of her friends; of Ambell happy again, and Remus finally free of the curse. It would be enough. Just that chance, that hope, would be far more than she had dared hope, these last years.
It was time to see Dumbledore.