One hour past midnight, Hermione finally arrived at her bedroom door. Exhaustion was catching up to her, yet still, there was still a few books research she needed to do before going to bed. A bath would be nice too, that way she can wash off the disgusting smell from Greyback.

When her hand rested on the handle, the brunette immediately stopped; the knob was warm. Someone broke her magical seal on the door. 'It couldn't be the elves. They don't open doors, they apparate.'

Silently, she kneeled, then carefully observed the gap between the dark mahogany heavy door and the carpet. The brunette wasn't oblivious to the possibility of someone entering her room behind her back. That was why she always tried to leave non-magical objects to could give her a clue if someone had stepped inside without her knowledge. Right under the door, she often drew a line of white powder. It has never been smeared. Until now.

Hermione released a tired sigh, the people relied so much on magic that sometimes they forgot there were simple ways to spot a presence other than runes and charms, that at the end, they could be broken knowing the right equations to dispose of them.

Not knowing what to expect, the brunette slowly opened the door, letting a short gap wide enough to cast a non-verbal spell and light up the candles inside the whole room. Right away, she kicked the door open, briskly entering the room pointing her wand in all directions.

The intruder was spotted sitting on the sofa in front of the tea table. Seeing his calm demeanor, and the silent amusement of her entrance, Hermione lowered her wand.

"Ugh, what do you want?" The girl made a face, feeling already peeved by his presence. She never liked the man. Yet, one side of her had to admit there was a little comfort in seeing a familiar face.

"Answers and you have them." He crossed his legs and put his arm on the armrest, looking like he was planning to stay for a long time.

Clearly stating that he wasn't about to elaborate further, Hermione raised eyebrows at his demanding manner. They weren't at Hogwarts anymore. He didn't get to ask something from her.

If she was about to be questioned might as well get something out of it. "I might ask the same thing, Professor Snape." She replied with an accusative tone, taking a seat on the other available loveseat, right across from him.

Snape's face remained impassive, something she expected from the most monotonous man in the wizarding world. Both stayed silent for the next moments; she could only assume he was considering his next words.

Her robe was starting to feel stuffy; while he took his time, Hermione took this opportunity to lose the garment. Both hands worked to untie the tight knot on her upper chest. The brunette could swear it was only three seconds that her gaze strayed from the Potions Master. By the time her eyes went up again, Severus had stood up with his wand aiming at her.

The wizard's face was grave and attentive, his eyes showed a menacing nature never seen by her. "Move another muscle and it'll be the last thing you do."

Hermione backed away further on the seat, breathing hard, her hands clutching the soft material of the sofa. Her wand was inside the robe's pocket; the man was within a very short distance. There was no other option but to comply, "What do you want?"

Snape's eyes remained bent on the girl. "You came to my office about the essay you wrote for the Draught of Peace brew what did I say to you?"

A raspy chuckle left her dried throat. "That if I got 'acceptable' was because I didn't stir correctly enough." The brunette wanted to tear his head off for scaring her like that. 'Why would he think I'm someone else? It's illogical.'

The potions master considerably relaxed after the reply. "I'll answer one question, but first you answer mine" Snape spoke sternly, putting away his wand, as he sat again on the love seat.

A warning in her head told her that she shouldn't agree. It would be better to ask to leave and preferably never come back or talk to her ever again. However, driven by curiosity and the need to connect in at some level with someone from Hogwarts, she nodded, accepting the deal.

Brown eyes studied the tired-looking man, the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent than usually were. His skin had an unhealthy color, he had lost some weight. Those were clear signs of someone undertaking high-levels of stress. Yet, he looked well-groomed, recently shaved, his hair didn't seem to have the common oiliness. His robes looked tidy, but some of the lower ends appeared damaged, burnt perhaps.

'You have been very busy…' These last weeks, things around here have been inactive. Still, Severus looked like he has been running errands non-stop. That would explain why she hasn't seen him before. '…I wonder what exactly are doing here?'

"Explain how you ended up in the service of our Lord"

Hermione raised one eyebrow, "That's a very loaded question, for that, I deserve more than one answer from you…" It was only fair. "…Besides, I wouldn't know where to start"

The man rested his back into the cushions. "From the beginning would be agreeable"

'How do you aid Voldemort?'

"That's a long story"

'Are you a spy at Hogwarts?'

"Then you better start now" His voice began to show hints of impatience.

The brunette decided that she would indulge this, and see where it'll take them both. At the same time ignoring all the red flags that told her this could backfire.


Everyone knew what happened the night where Remus Lupin was confronting Pettigrew. He forgot to drink his wolfsbane potion and ended turning into a werewolf in front of the three friends. In order to provide some sort of protection for the trio, who were watching the scene unfolding with fear and perplexity, Sirius Black turned into his Animagus form and did everything he could to keep the werewolf away from the children.

Harry and Hermione managed to run towards the forest with Lupin on their tail. But just when Lupin was about to strike Hermione, out of nowhere Buckbeack the hippogriff appeared to save them.

And that's the story that many in the Order believe. Because is the only one they know.

While the story was mostly true, it wasn't entirely accurate.

That night Buckbeack arrived seconds later, just right after Lupin managed to dig his fangs on Hermione's ankle.

What happened right after was a trip to St. Mungos, where Hermione although not gravely injured, she was in what was the wizardry equivalent of the Intensive Care Unit. The doctor tried to counter the effects of lycanthropy. If treated early, the malady would not spread fully into her body and she would be safe from turning into a werewolf every full moon. They kept monitoring her all night. The doctors were confident that, with the potions they were using, Hermione would have a normal life.

It didn't work.

Remus Lupin didn't renounce to his position as a teacher because his lycanthropy status came out to the public. The truth was that he couldn't bear the shame of his atrocious mistake. He couldn't face the girl anymore. It was time to leave, and try to move over a mistake he would never forget.

The only ones who were aware of Hermione's new status were Dumbledore, Sirius, Harry, Ron of course Lupin. As Dumbledore explained the fewer people knew the better, if word got out and reach the board of parents, they would immediately demand the permanent expulsion of Hermione.

As for Hermione, at the beginning she just wanted to die; she felt her life was over. An enormous burden has been put on her shoulders at such a young age. It took a lot of comfort and encouragement from both of her friends to understand that her life wasn't ruined. At least not entirely as Ron put it, who earned a reproachful glare from Harry. They tried to convince her that things hadn't dramatically changed, she was still herself and that was what really mattered.

That the first time Hermione saw pity in her best friend's eyes.

She hated it.

As long as she had the wolfsbane potion with her, probably things could be bearable, she thought weeks later. Getting the ingredients for the potion wasn't that difficult with Dumbledore's help. The complicated part was to make it. It took arduous long hours of daily training for Hermione to master the correct way to successfully brew it.

With much time and effort, she had learned to live with Lycanthropy. Conscientious to keep a large supply of wolfsbane wherever she went, Hermione knew she wasn't a danger to anyone. Every full-moon she'll lock herself in one of the dungeons provided by Dumbledore, then calmly she spent the night there until the next morning.

The first time she transformed was painful as it was traumatic. Nothing could ever make her forget the sound of bones cracking or the sensation of her skin breaking apart, her body contorting to take a new shape. Dumbledore did everything in his power to help her ease the transformation. He was with her every step of the way, casting pain relief charms during the process.

The Headmaster was always there for her, his deposition moved her deeply at that time.

One day, a hypothesis came to her mind. Perhaps Dumbledore felt very guilty about her condition, after all, the incident happened at the school's grounds. Part of the responsibility rested on him. That would explain why he was always providing her the wolfbane's ingredients and helping her through her transformation.

She never dared to vocally express it, though.

As time passed by, she did experience some subtle changes in her. Her reflexes were keener; her capability to retain information increased, even more. Books she read a year ago were still fresh in her mind. Generally speaking, she felt herself with more energy, nothing drastic but it gave her an edge at the time to study for her tests. Thankfully nobody noticed these changes. Everyone just assumed she was being even nerdier than normal.

Grateful of the constant emotional support from Harry and Ron, the brunette couldn't help but see the wariness in their eyes every time the full moon was approaching. That itself hurt her, as much as it offended her. It made her think that they thought there'll be an occasion where she will forget to drink the wolfsbane, just like Lupin did, and harm them or even kill them.

Don't they know her? She would never be careless, so inconsiderate to commit that kind of mistake.

Still, she brushed away it. She convinced herself that it wasn't something to pay attention to.

Life at Hogwarts continued as normal as it could be.

Everything was well.

Until it wasn't

That night at the Department of Mysteries, as Hermione would put it, everything went to hell.

Everyone saw how Bellatrix threw the killing curse to Sirius Black; how his body went through the ancient doorway, disappearing into the veil. A soul-wrenching scene for everyone, but mostly for Harry.

Everyone saw how Harry blinded by rage and driven by revenge gave immediate pursue to Bellatrix Lestrange who was cackling madly at her misdeed, taunting him and calling him names. Harry rapidly caught up to her. He raised his wand and in a failed attempt, he tried to Crucio the woman. Compared to the unbearable pain intensity of the curse, Bellatrix only felt the minor tickle of needles piercing her skin, which only made her fall on her knees, this caused her to laugh even more.

Hermione and the rest of her friends quickly followed suit after Harry ran to pursue the dark witch, all of them watched the scene unfolding between the boy and Lestrange. Yet, not nobody approached them.

Something happened at the Room of Prophecies. Hermione didn't know what, but definitely something was wrong with her. It started when they saw the Death Eaters. Light pain in the chest, like a rope tied around her chest and pulling her somewhere. It felt weird. She wanted to believe it was a side effect of Dolohov's attack, however, that wasn't possible as it had started before the battle ensued.

And now, seeing the scene before her eyes it felt worse. This tugging extended in her whole body as she saw Bellatrix at the mercy of Harry. Something dark and twisted born in her chest, because an irrational and strong compulsion to protect the woman came to her. To say she was disturbed by the sudden feeling was an understatement. Hermione couldn't even begin to understand what was happening to her as her mind yelled to attack Harry.

Madness incarnate, incomprehensible emotions that never existed before in her.

The tugging became nearly unbearable as if something wanted to crawl out of her body.

Unfamiliar fight instincts urged her to move, to act. To attack. It took every ounce of will from her to remain rooted in her spot, sensing if she were to move a single muscle would be only to shoot curses at Harry.

The next two minutes, Hermione saw them in slow motion…

"For the spell to work, you have to mean it…You know the spell. Kill her" Harry heard the voice of Voldemort in his head, persuading him, subtle mockery in his words; implying that the boy didn't have it in him to do it.

Right that second, the Dark Lord chose to appear behind Harry. The boy not being fast enough to defend himself, Voldemort's disarmed him with a single flick of his finger.

While Harry's encounter with Voldemort unfolded, Hermione saw from the corner of her eye how Neville was crossing the atrium as subtle and fast as he could. He was heading towards Bellatrix who was entranced by the scene unfolding between her Lord and the boy.

Hermione's eyes drifted once more to Harry and saw how Dumbledore came out from one of the many Floo Networks, stepping forward, the Headmaster became a shield between Potter and Voldemort, both wizards exchanged words. Nothing Hermione could make out from her distance.

She couldn't resist the tugging in her chest anymore, it was turning too painful to ignore.

She moved.

Where Harry failed, Neville took the opportunity. He had been looking for a chance of vengeance since he was a little boy. It was long overdue. If he couldn't bring his parents back, then he will at least avenge them. He will be known for the boy who defeated Bellatrix Lestrange.

When he got close enough to the witch, all the anger and pain he suffered thanks to that woman was concentrated in his wrist. With a sharp thrust of his wand, Neville sent the most powerful Stupefy he has ever cast.

The young boy didn't even manage to assimilate the unconscious woman, just lay a few meters ahead from him. Because someone behind him shouted 'Expulso' right after his attack. The blast that came after launched him towards the front wall, making him lose consciousness in the process.

The flavor of vengeance and retribution never came for Neville. Instead, he got a broken nose and few bones, and muscle damage.

Harry saw it, her friends saw it, Dumbledore caught of glimpse of it before finally engaging with Voldemort.

Everyone saw it.

The saw how Hermione stood shocked, frozen in place as her wand pointed towards a bleeding Neville.


"And then what happened?"

"Wait, you are not going to ask why did I attack Neville?"

"Although extremely rare, you are not the first case, possibly neither last one." Said in a bored tone, so far, the man hadn't shown any significant emotion through her story.

"By case, you mean more like legends, no?"

"Don't be quick to disregard legends, Granger. They hold truth beneath."

The girl was slightly taken aback by his disposition to believe in rumors and tales. She looked at him as if he was a puzzle to solve. Severus was very smart; an erudite in the potions field, very quick-witted, and no doubt a good duelist. He wouldn't have survived this far if he had a cell of foolishness in his body. So, what was he doing here listening to her tale? He said he wanted answers… Why though? Is he driven by curiosity?

'He doesn't strike as a man to enjoy gossip.'

"All right" Clasping her hands over her crossed legs. Putting those thoughts aside for the moment, she continued her tale. "As you must already know Voldemort and Dumbledore engaged in a duel. Honestly, I barely remember what happened."

"I recall Harry shook me by the shoulders asking multiples times. 'Why did you do it? What were you thinking?' Poor Harry, he was grief-stricken by his Sirius' death." Frowning as it trying to remember something else but nothing detailed came to mind

"The next thing I can remember was the moment we took momentary refuge at Grimmauld mansion. Neville was sent to St. Mungos just after we arrived. The boys were furious at me" She released a humorless chuckle "I have never seen them so angry with someone like they were with me at that moment" She took a pause, the memory brought old feelings alive. "Now that I think about it, I don't think they were furious for the sole reason I attacked Neville, I think their source of anger came more from the fact that I made them lost a lifetime opportunity to cripple Voldemort by removing his lieutenant."

"The rest of the Order was aware of what happened in the next few hours. They all thought I had gone mad or something. Others believed Bellatrix or Voldemort cast the Imperius curse on me. It was then when they told me that Voldemort and Bellatrix had managed to escape." Even then, there was a part of her that she felt relieved at the news of Bellatrix Lestrange being safe. 'Merlin, I thought I was losing my mind, worrying over the well-being of a murderer.'

"Things went south from there" She swallowed trying to keep at bay the sour taste in her mouth "Three days later after the incident, Dumbledore called me to his office. Like you, he had figured it out the moment he saw it."


"Hermione, please have a seat." Dumbledore welcomed her with the warm paternal voice that characterized him, sky blue eyes looked at her with concern. "I want to apologize first; I've been meaning to talk to you. However, the Ministry took most of my time these days. I'm sorry" He put a cup of warm tea in front of her "Tell me, child. How are you?" He asked as he sipped his tea.

'Miserable, tired, and anxious.'

"I'm fine." Said the brunette shrugging her shoulders. Dumbledore gave her a skeptical look but didn't press further. "Hermione, I want to talk about what happened at the department of mysteries" His voice was soft and comforting. Yet, Hermione still managed to visibly flinch at the mention of it. "Don't worry, there is nothing wrong, you did nothing bad. And that's something I'll explain later to your friends."

Hermione wanted to cry at the mention of her 'friends.' She wondered if they were really still her friends. She knew the relationship with them had taken a heavy blow, and in moments like this, she has to ask if they could ever go back to what it was before all this. The only one that didn't frown at her was Luna, but again she wasn't even close to her.

She didn't have anyone to comfort her, Ron and Harry had shunned her these last three days. Although they haven't said anything directly at her face, it was obvious they were more than wary of her. If today's fight was anything to go by, they were already brushing the boundaries of estrangement.

Despite the opportunity they gave her to defend herself, she couldn't explain something that she didn't even understand. Naturally, they didn't believe her. It hurt deeply. Her lips trembled, her throat got increasingly painful and constricted. She quickly dried the welled-up tears.

"I think I have the answer that would clarify what you did to young Longbottom was beyond your power. Allow me to illustrate." Said the wizard while giving her handkerchief "There are some side effects that can manifest on the people who suffer from the lycanthropy curse. You see, some people might have a keener sense of smell or hearing, nothing extraordinary mind you, while others when they experience fear, feel the compulsion to growl or even bark. However, in your case, it was something even rarer according to records."

He cleared his throat little, blue eyes shined sympathetic

Hermione's stomach dropped to the bottom; her gut told her that whatever he was about to say was going to be bad.

In return, the brunette tried to convince herself that no matter what it was, she would overcome it with time. If she learned to live with lycanthropy, then whatever was this, she would handle it. How worse could things get, anyway? And if Dumbledore offered his support then it would be even more bearable.

Dumbledore sat next to her, "I believe when you saw Ms. Lestrange you happened to imprint on her, or more likely, your wolf found its mate."

'…What?'

"I-I don't understand." Her voice cracked. She didn't understand. What, what was he saying? 'What is that?'

"Neither do I, nobody seems to understand how it works. The cases are too rare, adding the fact that not many people are willing to study the victims of this curse—"

"No! I meant I don't understand what the bloody you mean by that!" She didn't mean to raise her voice and sound so angry and desperate. A little ashamed of her sudden outburst, Hermione looked to the side, then calmly said: "The imprinting thing. What is that supposed to mean?"

Dumbledore overlooked her outburst, instead, he tried to give her a reassuring smile. One that said everything was going to be fine.

Hermione wanted to rip it from his face. A feeling she had never experienced, until now.

"Simply put, your wolf finds Ms. Lestrange as an equal, a mate. To my understanding it has something to do with the origin of the curse; all of this is just rumors, of course. Nobody for certain can trace the origin of the malady."

There was no information about so-called mates in the books she had, the brunette had memorized them.

"A dark wizard wanted to test the limits of the Animagus form, which his, happened to be a wolf. Driven by the stories of Vánagandr, the father of all wolves. The legend says that he tried to make something similar to himself, to become stronger, faster, and to walk in two legs. After many years of failures, one day he happened to succeed. He succeeded at a great price, I'm afraid. For when he turned into a werewolf, he became a frenzied beast. That very night he killed his wife. In the aftermath, devastated by his own deed, he lost his mind. The grief became bitterness with time. It is said that he decided to turn his condition into a curse. To infect as many people as possible, that way he wouldn't suffer alone anymore."

"If the story were to be true, that emotion of love he felt for his wife was transmitted onto the curse. Making some infected capable of imprinting."

"With all due respect, professor. But that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard" She was slightly surprised by the level of venom her comment was voiced

"Yes, might sound a little bit silly." the kind man conceded. "But whatever is the origin of lycanthropy and its effects, it doesn't make it any less true from what you are experimenting right now."

He was right on that account.

All this felt so disheartening and hopeless.

"Hermione, please answer honestly. How do you feel?" He asked, very concerned.

'I feel happy, ecstatic, over the fucking bloody moon… How do you think I feel?!' She was very close to snap again at the man.

'What the did it mean to be imprinted to Bellatrix Lestrange?'

"Do you feel restless? Do you feel empty? As if all of a sudden something in your life is lacking, but you cannot say exactly what it is? Do you feel the pain in your chest?" To Hermione, he seemed he didn't want to upset the girl further, yet with his line of questioning all it did to her was to make her feel worse by the second.

A sob escaped her lips, "…Yes," She uttered, silently crumbling.