Tie your Heart at Night to Mine, Love

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Her plan had been quite straightforward. Once Neville had gotten her the rarer missing ingredients, Hermione would tie her unruly mane of hair, ready her cauldron, and produce a fully functional Wolfsbane Potion.

Easier said than done, apparently. If it was physically possible to eat one's own words, Hermione gladly would have. How hard would it be... Hmph! The actual question went more along the lines of how have I overestimated my abilities quite so horribly?

She inspected herself in the mirror: wisps of hair either clung to her damp forehead or stuck out in all sorts of directions from her now not so carefully secured bun, and dark, sunken rings sieged her gritty and red-rimmed, yet still open, eyes.

She would have to stop. Dragging a hand over her face, other details came into evidence: her fingertips had turned yellow, and the sleeve of her shirt reeked of some acrid mix of potion ingredients, little stains of one color or the other peppered over it. She resembled one of those ridiculous Heroin Screws You Up posters the government had sent to her parents' practice when she was a child, though no heroin needed. Just a cocktail of misery, lack of sleep, and potion fumes. She was desperately in need of a shower, yet she splashed some water over her face and left the bathroom.

Time to contemplate her failure.

When Hermione had first entered the improvised potions lab at Number 12 Grimmauld's Place, the room had somewhat reminded her of its equivalent at Hogwarts: ingredients were stowed in alphabetical order on the small shelves, each jar labeled with their name – Latin as well as common – and the dates of both harvest and expiration; the wenge countertops – with their uniquely patterned, grainy dark veins – lay clear of anything except for a thin layer of dust Hermione had since charmed into inexistence; cauldrons and knives, properly ordered by kind and size, sat beside the stone sink. It looked immaculate enough that it had made Hermione wonder if the last person to use it had been Professor Snape years before, perhaps with the same goal in mind. At the way the room stood now, she could even picture his sneer: Spending too much time around Longbottom, aren't we, Miss Granger? Fifty points, and consider yourself... lucky.

Though it was all in her head, Hermione still winced. There was a burnt patch marring the wood countertop, a greenish smear clinging to the already yellowed ceiling, and the humidity of her previously bubbling cauldron ran drops of water from the dark grey wallpapers like sweat dripped from her skin. A sticky, clumpy, mud-brown mess unfit to be deemed a potion had fizzled just before it collapsed into itself and clung to the sides of the cauldron as the Red Sea had for Moses. And that had been progress over the one which had actually exploded. Luna had burst into the room then, a wild look on her face, and Hermione felt a pang of guilt for her thoughtlessness.

"It's alright, you know," Luna told her once she had calmed down, "Mum would have really liked you. You remind me of her, sometimes."

They had sat down for tea and talked about the late witch. Hermione appreciated the break and made sure to cast silencing spells on the lab thereafter. Since the beginning of the war, all of their fears had taken to run right underneath their skins, thicker than blood itself, and she vowed not to be responsible for bringing them forth again.

The next interruption had come in the form of her best friend.

"Gods, Hermione. Who are you trying to kill?"

He laid a plate on the only surface clear of jars or discarded ingredients and plucked the quill she had been looking for for the past two hours from her hair.

Hermione snatched it from his hand, scribbled a note on the parchment beside her, and took a sniff directly from the cauldron. As though it would somehow smell differently from the rest of the room. Because she had taken to deluding herself now. "Ugh, it's not foul enough."

"Are you sure? Smells foul enough to me."

She shot him a look, "Not helping, Harry."

"I'm pants at Potions, you know that. If you feel you're failing without me, I hate to think how you would do with my help."

A shiver ran down her spine as countless memories of classes popped into her mind, "Point taken."

"Care to tell me what you're doing, at least?"

"I'm trying, with an emphasis on the floundering part, to brew a batch of Wolfsbane Potion."

"Oh. Yeah, not nearly foul enough."

"Exactly," She dropped her body onto a nearby chair and eyed the sandwich sitting on the plate. Ultimately, though, she decided against it. "You'd expect concocting poison would be more rotten, yet they smell of flowers. Wolfsbane, however…"

"Smells like something crawled inside the cauldron and died."

"Well, yes," Hermione glanced at the cauldron once more, her lips pulling to the sides into something she doubted even resembled a smile, "And my something isn't dead enough."

With one last look inside the lab, she closed the door, the will to put it to order eluding her. The week deadline before the full-moon in which the Wolfsbane Potion had to start being taken had passed. Hermione dragged herself to the closest horizontal surface and fell asleep on top of it.

Where were time-turners and Professor Snape's old, annotated books when you had need of them?

Time, that week, became a commodity she couldn't afford. Like the week before, she felt like the White Rabbit to Alice's pace, rushing one way and the other and falling behind all the time.

All because, despite not deigning to meet with or contact Hermione in any way, Headmistress McGonagall had taken the time to write to Harry and inform him of her wishes that he attend a Council meeting and for him to ask that Hermione help him prepare for it. Apparently, no one more politically qualified such as, say, anybody at all, was available to walk Harry through such matters. So she had instructed her friend to the best of her ability, discussing topics from government structure, measures to be taken to identify Death Eaters within the Ministry, prisoner treatment, and muggle-born and other minorities' – such as werewolves and giants – inclusion and protection in order to build a fairer system for all; to restoring magical international relations and rebuilding Wizarding Britain's economy. All in a span of a few days. And bless Harry, he had tried. It was too much, even for her. And perhaps it was the exhaustion, the constant feeling of failure after frustrating failure, but the idea seemed so very bright and compelling in her head.

Once the afternoon arrived, Hermione sat at the desk in her room, quill in hand, took a slow breath, and wrote.

Hermione Apparated close to the forest near Remus' house. She raised her wand, casting a barrier spell around a perimeter along with muggle-repelling wards to keep the wolf from hurting anyone. Remus would never forgive himself if he did. Once it was done, she looked for an out-of-sight corner and hid. That was it. No going back. Not once since she had managed it, did Hermione imagine she would be using it for this. The last time she had been reckless due to her feelings for someone was… not that long ago, actually. But it had been Harry, and they had been at war. This… this gave recklessness a brand new definition. But if it worked, if she was successful… All she needed was for the distraction to prove enough.

If she were honest, she wasn't entirely sure what drove her to it. No, that was a lie. Harry had told her long ago that the presence of the other Marauders had a calming effect on the wolf. And Hermione… well, Hermione was the wolf's mate. He had taken control of Remus before and hadn't hurt a single hair on her head. Why on Earth would it differ now?

A tapping snapped Remus from his reverie. He had been holding Hermione's robe, that he ought to have returned a month ago, contemplating the happenings of the last few weeks.

She had kissed him. The memory of it alone lit up his heart in a way he hadn't experienced in decades, if ever. It compared to the way he had felt when his friends learned he was a werewolf and their first instinct was to find a way to keep him company during the full moon. Then again, not quite – even now, he didn't believe even he could grasp the significance of her action. Their kiss had been but a press of her lips… Yet it wasn't a simple press of lips, was it? A promise, she had called it. That he wouldn't be alone, that she accepted him. And then, six days ago, she had shown up at his doorstep before dawn, barefoot and looking like death warmed over, and made him swear never to take an Aconite infusion to weaken the wolf again, muttering some gibberish on how she would fix it once it stopped exploding and she managed to kill it really dead.

It made him worry about the kind of nightmares she had been having. The war was bound to have left some trauma, more so on her, who had had to place herself in the frontline, who had been captured and tortured in order to accomplish the task Dumbledore had given them. So Remus had Side-Apparated her back to Number 12, afraid that she would splinch herself if she tried it on her own, and carried her to bed. He had, however, kept his promise: the wolf would run free tonight.

The tapping sounded again, and Remus put away her robe and stood. Hermione's owl was staring at him by the kitchen's windowsill, letter in beak. As he opened the window, he could feel the humming of wards - Kings must have stopped by earlier. The wizard knew better than to try to come inside on the day of the transformation. His was a territorial monster.

Remus ushered the bird in, and it took a single, cautious step forward. Animals never liked him very much that close to the full moon, the stench of a predator having them keep their distance.

"Worry not, little one. I won't harm you." There was a trail of Hermione's scent on the air as if she had petted the animal just before sending it to him. If Remus closed his eyes, he could even pretend she was waiting nearby, ready to welcome him into the night. Yet, once he opened them again, he would only see the animal she favored, that she had gotten due to someone else. And perhaps it was the proximity to the full moon, the curse running like a fever in his blood, but he found himself envious of her pet. This was what insanity looked like. The owl's little heart had begun to sing in staccatos, and Remus tried to suppress whatever sort of pheromones he was exuding. He reached for the letter, "Sorry, I don't have any treats for you today. I'll get you some next time."

It nipped his finger gently in admonishment and stood in place.

"You ought to go, it's a full moon tonight."

Remus opened the letter, scanning its contents. Nothing urgent, it seemed, yet the owl had stayed put.

"Did she ask you to wait for a reply? I'll write back tomorrow. Not quite myself, tonight."

Remus thought his dismissal had worked once the animal turned and took flight, but maybe his lack of reply made it reluctant to leave, and it landed on a tree nearby.

Her cat had been a lot smarter.

Remus grabbed his wand, pointed it toward the owl, but his grip slackened with a crack. Although he couldn't hear his own screams over the agony, the rawness in his throat indicated that they were ripping out of his lungs, but the owl had its gaze fixed at something else and remained still. He hoped with every fiber of his being, as every single bone in his body splintered, tearing into the muscles only to elongate and mend into something inhuman, that the wolf would go for Hermione's robe, not her owl. His snout grew. Her scent smelled so much more mouthwatering on the outside.

Hermione would be devastated.

The screams were horrifying. Although she forced herself to stay through them, Hermione couldn't bear to move until they had ceased. She hoped that her diversion had worked, if Remus figured out she was there… She'd rather not think about it. Movement caught the corner of her eye, and she no longer had time to.

During the day, she had devised a plan: calm the wolf, be there for both he and the man inside. A long, deep howl erupted into the night, breaking goosebumps all over her body, and adrenaline hit her like a hex to the chest. The trees closed down on her, oxygen puncturing her lungs in short bursts, burning yet insufficient, her vision narrowing to only what was ahead, no other path available. She hadn't even seen the wolf, but she fled. Every instinct in her gut told her to. And he, well, he chased. That was what wolves did.

She should have known that plans made in the light seldom worked while in darkness. Time itself as she knew it was nonexistent. Hours before, she had fancied herself running out of it. Now, it lasted an eternity or the blink of an eye, both, neither. Marked by the pounding or skipping of her heartbeats. And if she didn't escape faster, she was already done for. No matter that her muscles ached. No matter that thoughts silenced over the heaving hammering in her ears. Now that her vision was failing her, chunks of her sight dark and empty, it was her last chance. Hermione pushed herself harder. Farther. The sound of paws hitting the dirt vibrated right behind her, she reached the next tree and—

She Disapparated, her vision dark.

Hermione came to on the ground. She blinked once, twice. A chill covered the skin of her face, neck, and hands. She cupped her mouth and nose with her hands and exhaled through her mouth to stave it off. She breathed once, twice. Running her hands over her body, she took stock of any injuries. There didn't seem to be any, yet encrusted dirt tangled her curls. She tried to unknot it by combing her fingers through it only to find a feather caught in it. As if the quill the week before hadn't been enough. She was wondering how to explain her current state to the boys – Harry, she meant Harry – when the night came rushing back into her mind.

She removed the letter from her pocket and placed it on the ground, lest it disappears along with her clothes and wand, only to pick it up again. Her skin clung too tightly to her body, as though a child squeezing playdough yet still caging the excess within their fingers. Unpleasant was an understatement. Everything felt both too cramped and wrong. Equilibrium had been an issue the first few times, but as she practiced more and more, it became… Not good, but manageable. The dysphoria, though… She stretched her wings, fluttering them in place, and took flight. She was half-terrified every time her talons left the ground, worried she would hit a tree or come crashing down on the floor like a baby bird. The biggest irony of her transformation didn't go unnoticed by her: she hated flying with all her heart, yet magic had chosen to turn her into a blasted owl. Still, she couldn't complain: being an animagus had meant she managed to provide food for her and her friends as they camped in the woods, had given her the chance of patrolling the forest for Death Eaters unnoticed, and therefore safely, whenever the boys were asleep. Now, it meant she could provide comfort for one of the people who most deserved it. She couldn't say she regretted it. Hermione tried to plan her descent into his window as though not to look too much like Errol. She stumbled a little but managed not to bang her head against the glass. At this point, she would take any win she could get. She peered inside - Remus was sitting on the couch, a robe in his hands - her robe. It had been the right call. Though he didn't seem to have taken pure Wolfsbane again, his appearance wasn't that good: his skin looked pale, face sallow. Hermione pecked the glass a few times.

As he looked up, a flash of yellow eyes took his pupils, and the owl in her froze. Perhaps not that good an idea, Hermione. Her wings tensed, poised to flee. But the green took over once again as the wizard made his way toward her.

Once the window was open, she took a careful step inside, hoping her hesitance didn't look too human-like. She didn't know if owls could gulp, but she would have if she could. She had no doubt Remus would be against her little stunt. Unlike her, he didn't trust his wolf at all, less still with her life.

Hermione took another step inside, only to remember that birds usually jumped with their feet together. Well, pigeons didn't, but she couldn't recall the proper behavior when it came to owls. Good God, she was a disgrace. Once, Remus had called her the cleverest witch of her age, and now she couldn't even emulate an animal she had seen hundreds of times in the past seven years. No wonder her potion had failed. So she offered him the letter instead, a cover to any of her blunders. At least he took the letter. Remus had said something to her, more than once, she believed, but she missed it. Nipping was how owls communicated, was it not? That or a hoot, which was where she drew the line. Minerva McGonagall was a cat, and Hermione had not once seen her purr or meow. She would preserve any modicum of dignity she could.

Once she left, she found a nice, sturdy-looking branch to perch on. The screams alone reassured her of her decision. No one deserved to go through this much torment, period, but no one at all should have to go through it alone. Then all hell broke loose and survival instinct kicked in.

It had been a most idiotic plan. Hermione had wanted to stay with Moony. What she did, instead, was rattle the wolf with all her moving around. Remus would be exhausted come morning and she could have ended up killing herself.

Hence, a truly idiotic plan. One she fully intended to set in motion again. Next month, under more controlled circumstances. With a conscious Remus, preferably. She just had to curb her own preservation tendencies. After years of being friends with Harry, it didn't seem that difficult a task.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the feather she had fished from her hair. Downsides of becoming an owl animagus, she supposed. That and the flying. She really hated the flying.

A/N: Hey, guys! I'm sorry it has taken me this long to update the story. I admire so, so much the writers who managed to keep writing during this nightmare we call a pandemic, but I just couldn't. As many of us did, I got scared, my anxiety flared up and I ran for comfort: I stayed a fanfiction reader for most of the past few months, and it really helped. Sorry I couldn't provide you the same by writing, but I really hope you're all well and that you found it somewhere else.

That said, here we are. I think some of you already suspected this revelation, but I'm DYING to know what you thought of it! Give me all the thoughts, please! I almost ran this chapter by an alpha since it was rather tricky, but it would take longer and I decided to go with my gut. Hopefully it'll serve me better than Hermione's ;)

I'll go back to updating Tie Your Heart once a month from now on, but for those of you who haven't seen it, I'm posting a short (around 10 chapters-long) Remione (that is mostly prewritten) called Falling Leaves every weekend, so check it out if you're interested!

To Guest: I'm really glad you liked the last chapter! Hopefully this one will find its way to you despite my disappearance :)

Rainbows and chocolate to SereniteRose, alexaguamenti, ellasommers, Guest, Imwaiting4myAliceandEdward, MoonKitten02, erythra-selena, riversgirl75, foxylittlelady, and badadder1 for the reviews.

To lockeysarah, Tatania5, CarolineGoldilocks, badadder1, Fatpotter, Seekingsarasvati, rhakm123, AllyKat15, elliemidnightowl, Raewyn Leaf, hlydia11, 89226345308ss, The Evo Girl, foxylittlelady, Jean Claire Lune, Coventia, msch1999, proxrustes, Sargesgirl, xITACHISxKOIx, Iruviene-san, Elodie Nauriel, Cleo T, riniel123, Fernanda21, happyhippy, lexrbon, angela22zuni for adding the story to their favorites.

And to Grahamgirl93, thoupetty, lockeysarah, D Mysinger, Tatania5, CarolineGoldilocks, badadder1 , Seraphinac, Fatpotter, Seekingsarasvati, skhnmrrd, AllyKat15, Chloe1s, PSUChick86, Noacat, lovelessrai, hlydia11, diamondclover, Jean Claire Lune, Midwinter's-Night-Dream-86, Loryalice, Elizabeth Erin Jones, msch1999, CalebIsACactus, miafulfordx, MissMandy79, Sargesgirl, chubbycherub, xITACHISxKOIx, annlam6572, akiraflame-tumblr, Iruviene-san, Rav3nsRemorse, Ruva Darling, Sleepandsheeps, UndeniablyFate, Merrily-Macabre, erythra-selena, LauraB90, Elodie Nauriel, Cleo T, riniel123, SalamanderLights, Nylhsa, Smmoseley06, annaliveslifeloud, Adelaide2647, Chassey, SlytherinWinchester23, lexrbon, pherphexsophie, vivalaFredW, sharahreads for following the story.

You guys are the best! :)