Author's Note: Wow am I floored by all the feedback and support I've been getting on this story. I honestly don't know what to say - I appreciate it more than anyone could ever know. I am BEYOND excited to share this chapter.
I want to give ENDLESS alpha/beta love to mightbewriting. She is an incredible support, teacher, writer, and editor. She also introduced me to my new favorite word - SADVERBS. If you haven't read her story Wait and Hope... GO NOW. READ. It's a spectacular work of art that is LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE to stop reading.
As always, I love feedback - critiques, comments, cries of rage, and predictions are all welcome. Check out my Tumblr, EndlessMoonChild, for sneak previews and pretty aesthetics.
Without further ado... ENJOY CHAPTER 5!
Stay safe! Until next time,
EndlessMoonChild
Secrets of the Moon
Chapter 5
"Why do I even bother shopping?" She mumbled under her breath, shoving aside sweaters she hadn't worn in ages. Dressed in a bathrobe, she pawed at the clothes in her closet for anything at all that wouldn't make her feel like a sexless sack of potatoes. Droplets of water trailed down her back, and given her lack of time, she now had no choice but to braid her wet hair. There's got to be some-
A quiet woosh tickled her ears. Her breathing stopped.
Someone is here, her wolf growled, suddenly awake and territorial. Draco couldn't possibly be here - she glanced at the clock - over twenty minutes early; it'd be asinine. Lifting her nose, she inhaled. Pine, yes, but... also bacon, and woman's floral perfume. An unfamiliar scent.
The soft, slow sound of muffled breathing came into focus, and the air in the bedroom turned stagnant. Her eyes narrowed. Alert. Deadly.
Give me control, her wolf begged. After days of being ignored, the beast clawed beneath her skin. A storm would be easier to harness than the wild nature gnawing within, especially so close to the full moon.
Without making noise, Hermione held her breath, tiptoeing around the corner into the kitchen. As she prowled, crouched beside the island, she tightened the knot keeping her bathrobe secured on her body.
A rustling, in the living room. Her body snapped toward the sound.
Adrenaline surged through her veins, rousing the constrained beast.
Careful, her wolf warned. Hidden behind the wall, she was a predator, a perfectly manicured force of nature.
A shadow extended on her right, and footsteps drew nearer, and a pounding heartbeat, and-
Her fist connected with stubbled skin covering a sharp jaw. Grabbing the man's collar, she pushed him against the wall with a shriek, her leg pressed hard into his groin.
"...fucking...bloody hell… Merlin, Granger! It's me!"
Draco's pulse beat wildly under her thumb but her grip at his neck did not falter. "What the fuck are you doing breaking into my place?"
"It's not 'breaking in' if we have an appointment," he corrected, his hot breath caressing her cheek. Normally light crystal, his hooded gaze smoldered like charcoal.
Only then did she register his muscular chest rising and falling, steady under her fingers. His intoxicating scent, steeped in adrenaline, became stronger with every labored breath, provoking her already stimulated wolf. At the feel of his powerful hold on her arms and her leg nestled between his thighs, heat rose in her core.
How easy it would be to just continue running your hand along...
Hermione growled, ripping herself from his grasp. "You're nearly twenty minutes early! And I DID NOT open the door for you. Therefore," her voice cracked, "you're. Breaking. In!"
A breathy laugh escaped him, and her eyes followed his tongue as it wet his lips. "Your floo was open."
With his body leaned against the wall, sleeves rolled and hair grazing his crystal eyes, his smug charm felt maddening. She crossed her arms defensively.
"How the fuck was I supposed to know to close it?"
Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "Wizards normally close their floo, otherwise, visitors are welcome to sit and wait. I imagine it's not customary in the muggle world."
The rumblings of her wolf, ignited by the lingering memory of his body against hers, howled for her acknowledgment. You felt it. You felt that we could have him…
He's a client, she thought harshly.
"No it's not customary. You're always so bloody early," she added, breathing a wavering inhale to soothe where her nerves balanced on pinpoints. A floral scent infiltrated her nose."Why are you wearing women's perfume?"
"I just attended breakfast with my mother."
Her lips formed a perfect circle. This is why I don't listen to you, she chastised. At the sharp condemnation, her wolf whimpered back into the dark part of her subconscious.
She watched him trace his jaw in the spot her fist connected with his skin."I'm not apologizing, by the way."
He chuckled, the low sound reverberating deep in her stomach. "You can do that to me again any time you'd like."
Hermione flushed. "I don't think...that's not appropriate-"
The look on his face lacked the poised aristocracy she'd become accustomed to; it was nearly animal, primal in its heat and power. Wherever his eyes touched her body, her skin tingled.
"Get dressed."
She gritted her teeth as her fists tightened. "You barge into my place, scare me half to death, and now you're ordering me around like I'm some kind of dog-"
"You just attempted to pick a fight with an alpha days before the full moon…in a bathrobe no less."
Hermione opened her mouth to challenge his authoritative tone until his words sunk into her gut.
Her legs were exposed. Her hair soaking wet. The fluffy robe was barely covering her chest.
Oh fuck.
Embarrassment singed her cheeks in a noticeable splattering of pink and red. Turning on her heel, she fled from his sight.
As she threw on a plain skirt and blouse, deftly braiding her hair, she felt a sense of unease. Even after being punched, Draco's hair remained effortlessly tousled. Under long black robes, he looked elegant, modern in his button-down shirt tucked into fitted black trousers. Sexy, she couldn't help but think.
His level of poise - on par with that of British royals she'd seen on television - belonged to an upbringing she'd never understand; obscene wealth squandered to hire finishing coaches, that emphasized propriety and focused on the importance of one's presentation in upper society. Raised in his lavish Manor, Draco represented a different breed of rich. A different breed entirely.
She glanced in the mirror. Restrained, as always. But, it'd have to do.
Once she finally mustered the courage to enter the living room, she raised a single finger in his direction. "You will never speak of that again. Ever. Unless you'd like to find a new lawyer. And you're teaching me how to close the damn floo."
A hint of mischief coloured Draco's smirk. "Has anyone ever told you you're bossy?"
"I prefer assertive." In truth, she'd spent her whole life being told she was bossy by lazy, less intellectually minded people who simply couldn't keep up with her.
"Hm." He tilted his head, icy eyes flashing with heat. "You'd make a brilliant beta."
"A what?"
"In pack hierarchy, a beta is second in command to an alpha. As alpha, I make final decisions and others look to me for guidance. A beta, though still powerful and assertive, is less likely to win in a physical fight, particularly against an alpha."
She lifted her chin to meet his eyes. "Who says I'm not an alpha? I seem to have bested you easily. Twice now."
The challenge in her tone caused his lips to twitch and he prowled closer. A wolf stalking across her den. "If I felt so inclined, you wouldn't have been left standing."
"Say what you wish, but I have now both outrun you and pinned you, all the same." She straightened her shoulders and walked to the fireplace, leaving Draco to follow her for a change.
"You know, not long ago you were afraid of me."
It was her turn to smirk. "A mistake, on my part." Wiping her expression clean of any lingering heat, she asked, "Where are we going?"
"To the Ministry of Magic. Harry didn't agree to meet at the Manor, and seeing how your Floo connection is illegal, I thought it unwise to let him know your address."
She arched her brow. "How thoughtful of you not to reveal where I live to a wizard I don't know." The derisive words dripped from her tongue with oversaturated sweetness.
"I aim to please, Ms. Granger. Now, Harry knows nothing about your situation, and at the very least, I suggest we keep your wolfish abilities a secret. Which reminds me…" he paced over to the couch, and retrieved a black robe that matched his own. "You must wear this, to blend in. Hold out your arms."
Draco seemed careful not to touch her as he draped the fabric over her shoulders. The robe felt surprisingly lightweight, falling perfectly at her ankles and hugging her wrists as if tailored to her exact specifications. The feel caused an unintentional curve of her lips.
The responding glint in Draco's eye told her that he already knew it would fit. He had a meticulousness to him that she'd underestimated. Every detail thought through with cunning precision.
Including hem lengths, apparently.
"It's lovely," she whispered, still twirling the fabric beneath her fingers, "thank you."
He acknowledged her praise with nothing but a curt nod, though, she noticed a pink glow around the tops of his ears.
When the silence stretched too long, she cleared her throat. "Why do you want me to lie to Harry about being a wolf? Do you not trust him?"
"I don't trust anyone." He retrieved the small velvet bag of Floo powder from his pocket. "But that doesn't mean he can't be useful. We're seeing him for a wand only. I'd rather not reveal you're the first shifter seen in a century until we know his initial reaction to you."
He held out his arm, which she clutched easily, and then they were off.
To ensure her illegal Floo connection remained secret, they took two trips - first to the Manor, and then to the Ministry. The world continued to whirl dangerously upon her exit.
"Is it always that horrible?" She coughed up ash lodged in her throat.
"You'll get used to it."
But, as she looked out into the grand entryway, she whispered slowly, "No, I don't think I will."
The row of fireplaces, gilded and glittering, roared with the steady appearance and disappearance of witches and wizards dawning billowing robes. Symbols drifted across the deep blue ceiling. Voices boomed with excitement. Papers zipped through the air, twittering as they passed. It was, in every sense of the word, magical.
Any apprehension she'd previously felt melted into the heated bubbling of her curiosity. Compulsion urged her to stray forward, but a firm hand on her wrist stopped her.
"Stay close," he said, low and deep against her ear. "And act natural, we don't want to draw unnecessary attention toward you."
When she looked up at him, his face had turned pinched and severe. He wore a different mask from others she'd previously seen. Devoid of any humanity, the sharp angles of his face appeared pronounced; a cold, stunning image of dignified power. It sent chills down her soul.
"Act natural?" she bristled beside him, unable to stop her mind from churning, nor her restless eyes from wandering. "How the hell can I do that when - wait, was that a... goblin? A real one? I read about them! Do all the ceilings move?" A group of witches walked by in brightly colored, silken robes, their heels clicking against the marble. "I feel severely underdressed-"
His grip on her arm tightened and he practically dragged her toward a set of elevator doors.
"Hermione, please for the love of Merlin, stop talking and just walk beside me and act natural."
She ignored him, confident no one would ever take notice of someone as plain as she with such wondrous surroundings.
"Is it always this busy?" She barely dodged the owl that swooped past her head.
His strong jaw twitched from the gnashing of his teeth. "Yes."
"What's gotten you so tense?"
A small crowd of wizards waited nearby to step into the opening elevator doors. Draco stared down over his nose at her and grunted a non-answer.
"Mr. Malfoy!" A withered voice said from beside them. An elderly wizard, stooped with age, hardly gave Hermione a glance as he looked up at the imposing blonde beside her. "Fantastic work on our Egypt fiasco. It's fortunate you were there - I thought the tomb would swallow us whole!"
Draco stiffened. "Thank you, sir. "
"Are you available to be contracted for another project? We found a remarkable stockpile of cursed artifacts at the hideout of a previous Death Eater-"
"I'm not taking on any new projects at this time."
The ancient wizard, apparently accustomed to Draco's short mood, lacked the offense Hermione felt at her client's sharp demeanor.
When they boarded the elevator, her gaze shifted to each incoming face, noticing their small winces and widened eyes at the sight of Draco. Some looked apprehensive, others awed. All looked suspicious.
And, no one else dared say a word to them.
An exorbitant amount of questions simmered against her lips. What was this place? And who exactly was the mercurial man beside her? Between mentions of Egypt and curses, his extraordinarily frigid demeanor, and the suspicious glances, she grew unsettled.
The onslaught of the elevator's jerked movements in all directions - up, down, sideways, backward - made matters worse.
A gentle squeeze of long fingers against her wrist was the only solace she found. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was alone in finding comfort in his presence- certainly true amongst those on the elevator, who could scarcely look in his direction. When they disembarked, his hand dropped from her body and she scurried out after him, ignoring the perked eyebrows and sideways glances from other passengers.
Not making eye contact with anyone, Draco marched them down the halls until they reached a corner office. A golden plaque on the door read, Harry Potter: Head of the Auror Department.
Draco straightened his already immaculate robes. "Are you ready?"
"Do I have a choice?" Her hand trembled, and she forced in a deep breath. In her life, she made it a point to always feel prepared - beyond prepared, in fact. Now, she had but one choice: trust him.
"I'll take care of everything," he promised, as though reading her mind. Through the cracking sharpness of his glacial eyes, she found a hidden sliver of warmth.
When the door opened, Hermione noted with surprise that Harry looked no older than she was. His green eyes were expressive, hair styled, but unkept - a struggle she understood - and his robes slightly rumpled. It was a stunning rebuke of all that Draco presented.
Motioning toward the two chairs in front of his desk, Harry didn't utter a word as they filed into the office. They sat in tension coated silence for a few moments.
Draco yielded first. "Potter."
"Malfoy."
More silence followed. Dryness overwhelmed her mouth.
Harry finally met her eyes. His face held no inkling of coldness, and she was immediately jealous of his vulnerability: confusion, apprehension, curiosity, all painted clearly on his face.
"I'm Harry Potter."
She sat straighter, taking a note from the way Draco's air of conviction carried in his impeccable posture. "Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure."
"I hear the Weasley girl is pregnant, so congratulations are in order, I suppose," Draco said, a forceful strain tinting his sentiment.
"Ginny hasn't been the Weasley girl since we married four years ago." From the corner of his eyes, Harry's gaze passed over her red-tinted cheeks, then landed quickly back on Draco. "What are you here for?"
"I'm here to ask for assistance securing Ms. Granger a wand."
"Did you consider having her meet with Olivander…the wandmaker?" Harry asked dryly.
If possible, Draco's nose rose higher in the air, eyebrows arched in condescension. "Why didn't I think of that? Ten points to Gryffindor," he scoffed. "If it were that simple, Potter, I wouldn't have wasted my time meeting you, would I?"
Harry exhaled a frustrated breath. "I'm not in the mood for Slytherin games, Malfoy. Why can't she go to Olivander's?"
"Ms. Granger has never owned a wand. Nor does she have any training."
Harry leaned forward, elbows planted on the desk and fingers clasped. "What do you mean?"
"She has only recently been made aware that she's a witch."
"She's unregistered?" Harry sputtered.
"Of course she's unregistered," Draco scolded with a roll of his eyes. "Those security measures were implemented just after the war, well before Hermione even knew what she was. It's illegal for Olivander to provide her a wand."
Harry shook his head, struggling with the information. "I understand what you meant- that... it's just...that's impossible."
The tapping of Harry's foot against the worn carpet, coupled with his shifting gaze from Draco's severe face to hers, made Hermione's heart rate soar. Seldom did she find herself the center of attention. Uncomfortable under his suspicious gaze, she forced herself to breath, for her wolf to keep calm, despite the rising humiliation she felt.
"So it would seem," Draco drawled, "but I've seen it with my own eyes and felt it when I touched her." His lips twitched and his gaze softened. "Ms. Granger is a witch."
Closing his eyes, Harry rubbed his temples. "She'd be mad if she repressed her magic this long. You must see the impossibility in all this."
"As if that's stopped you from believing before?"
"I'm just confused." Harry tugged on his already messy locks. "How was she not found before now? Whether from Hogwarts or any other school. Surely, someone would have made contact with a witch who is apparently so powerful you knew simply by touching her. It just seems…. improbable-"
"I assure you, I've thought of-"
And so the boys debated while Hermione kept a running list of questions in her mind; War? And what is a Hogwarts? How do they track witches and wizards? Why did they miss her….
Annoyance soon lodged itself in her jaw, to have others talk as if she weren't there. She particularly hated the feeling. Though quiet, she was intelligent enough to speak on her own behalf, even if she didn't know everything. It was her magic in question, after all. Why not just ask her?
"-she knocked a stack of books clear off a shelf from across the room, without even trying-"
"You know, you could just ask me, Mr. Potter." Her strained voice broke free - quite loudly - unable to stand the bickering between them any longer.
Both men turned to her, surprise colouring their features. At least Harry had the audacity to look ashamed, still flushed from his quibbling with Draco, and he sheepishly nodded for her to continue.
She took a deep breath. "My whole life, I've always been different. Growing up, I called them outbursts. Sometimes, it was just a flicker of lights- easy enough to ignore or blame on bad electricity. Other times, it was larger items; books moving in anger, or a glass falling from a shelf. I ignored it. I had to. Though my adoptive parents were somewhat a pair of hippies," she smiled softly, "they were normal, logical minded people. I couldn't tell them."
"You don't know your real parents?"
"No."
Harry leaned forward in his chair, his eyes bright, yet there remained a prominent tightness around his mouth. "Do these outbursts happen frequently? And are they always emotional in nature?"
"My magic only occurs during emotional outbursts," she said, before quickly adding, "but, I've gotten very adept at managing it. It's rare, now that I'm older. No one else has ever seen."
Harry raised his brow. "And you just happened to lose control of your emotions in front of…erm... Malfoy?"
Hermione blinked. "He can be infuriating-"
"You have no idea."
The irritable blonde in question groaned, his elbows propped on his knees. "Oh, for fucks sake," he muttered. "The point is that I witnessed one of these outbursts. If the Daily Prophet finds out Hermione's story, an adult witch who has never used magic, it'd become a media circus."
"The Department of Registry is confidential, you know that."
"And you know that's bollocks."
"There's something you're not telling me," Harry accused, bringing his clasped hands in front of his lips. "Why are you trying to keep her hidden?"
Draco remained silent, his gaze unwavering. The animalistic quality he kept hidden behind a genteel mask bulged against his eyes, a wolf protecting its territory.
Draco opened his mouth, but Hermione gripped his arm to hush him. "It's, uh, my fault, Mr. Potter. I'm skeptical of everything, really."
She made it a point to meet Harry's honest eyes, to convince him of her half-truth by appealing to his forthright vulnerability. Lying did not come naturally to her, despite her dependence on it. It's what prevented her from having deep relationships with anyone. Eventually, lying wasn't enough, even when peppered with moments of truth.
She chewed her lip before continuing. "It took Draco a while to convince me to come here at all. I don't feel comfortable becoming a part of this world, yet. Not when I know so little about it."
"But now that you're here, you can see there is no reason to avoid being registered. There is no reason you can't learn to feel comfortable-"
"There is nothing comforting about magic." Draco tensed beside her. "It's made me feel ostracized my entire life, how can I possibly depend on it now? I'm already putting my trust in two people I barely know. Why should I risk more than that?"
Unexpectedly, she found no pity in Harry's eyes. Instead, she read the familiar patterns of someone who felt different, othered. Someone like herself. Soft green eyes lingered on her face and she let him study the script of her tragedy as it played out in the wrinkle on her forehead, and the tight pull around her mouth.
By her side, Draco's knee bounced, and she saw his posture grow rigid. His fingers wrapped around the arm of her chair possessively. "What will it be, Potter? Can you help her?"
"This is a bad idea," he muttered under his breath, stretching the skin on his forehead with his hands.
"But you'll do it?" She pressed. "Please it-"
"Alright, alright. But I have stipulations." Reaching for a quill and parchment, he began writing. "You have ninety days to register with the Ministry. Should you not register within that time, I will take your wand-" he held up a finger at the sight of Draco's opening mouth, "-no exceptions. I won't let her remain illegal forever. Further, you will give me a detailed list of her training. I require weekly updates. You'll adhere to all other wizarding laws." Harry looked pointedly over his glasses at Draco. "This should go without saying, but no dark magic."
"Fine," Draco conceded under Harry's sharp glare. "Anything else?"
With a grimace, Harry stopped writing. "Is she aware of your...affliction?"
Releasing a growl, Draco's chest puffed as he rolled his shoulders. "Excuse me-"
"I only ask as a precaution!" Harry winced, raising his hands in surrender. "I don't need her learning about your nature by accidentally staying too long at the Manor during the full moon."
Heat flashed in her copper eyes, her nails digging into her palms. "I'm well aware of his affliction as you so kindly referred to it," she scoffed. "And I don't care. Nor should what happens to someone one day a month ever determine my trust-"
Draco kicked her foot, effectively cutting off her tirade before she revealed her own affliction. "She's clearly fine with it, Potter."
Harry sat back in his chair, his cheeks glowing around the edges. "There's only one problem left. Her wand. You know bloody well that Olivander isn't going to want to see you, Malfoy."
The look of pain that flitted across Draco's eyes confused her. He persisted, asking, "are you suggesting she go alone?"
"She wouldn't be alone," Harry pronounced each syllable, "she'd be escorted by me."
"No. I won't leave her unprotected."
"Unprotected? The only person she has to fear is you-"
"I'm here for your help, Potter, not to argue over the mistakes of my past. Now, are you actually willing to help or not?" Draco's breath erupted in even bursts, but Hermione heard the wild blood thrumming through his veins.
Harry sighed. "I'm willing to help her, but Olivander won't allow you into his shop. Not after what happened."
Draco's scent developed into a heady mixture of anxiety and fire, emanating from veins protruding along tense arms. In her mind, Hermione continued to file away questions about the wandmaker, and Draco's past.
The alpha stood. "We're leaving."
"No," she challenged, rising to place a hand on his chest. "I've come this far, and I'd like to have input on these decisions. You know I can protect myself, if it came to it-"
"Absolutely not. You don't know enough about-"
Her nostrils flared as she scoffed. "You are so bossy!"
"I prefer assertive."
"And I prefer to call him arrogant," Harry shifted his weight, uncomfortable at the proximity between Draco and Hermione, "but regardless of what Draco should be called, there is no reason I can't take you to Olivander's shop."
"Potter, if anything happens to her-"
"In Diagon Alley?" Harry snorted.
Draco clenched his jaw, a war waged behind firelit eyes. But eventually, he nodded.
As they discussed the arrangements of their next meeting- tomorrow at Malfoy Manor, 8 am sharp- she felt a heavy pressure settle in her bones at the prospect of finally getting a wand. Mere days ago, she'd been hiding, unaware that there existed a whole world she could actually feel connected to. Outside of her family and clients, this was the most she'd conversed with others in years. It felt like breathing in fresh air after a long winter trapped indoors.
But a decision remained: In just ninety days, she needed to choose between basking in an endless moon, or remaining caged in perpetual winter. Though her mother advised the latter, her wolf hungered to run free.
Draco held the office door open for her, and guided her down the hall.
"I'm not pleased," he admitted in a hushed murmur while they waited for the elevator. "But at least you'll have your wand and your privacy, for now."
Unable to find words under the weight of her thoughts, she simply nodded. His eyes fixated on her hunched shoulders and she sensed his curiosity about her dour mood.
They stepped into the empty elevator in silence.
But, before the doors could close, a well-manicured hand slipped between them, halting their departure.
A demure woman with lips painted burgundy and short black hair, slithered onto the elevator. "Draco."
He took an imperceptible step in front of Hermione, using his muscular frame to overshadow her. "Pansy."
The uptick in Draco's heart, the stiffening of his broad shoulders, turned Hermione's blood cold. Her wolf sensed a crackle of danger in the air. Instinctively, she searched for an escape, but found no option to flee - the floor unwilling to accept her attempt to melt into it. Eyes cast down, body pressed against the wall, she stayed silent.
Pansy peered up at Draco through mischievous eyes lined by thick lashes. "Are you going to introduce me to your guest?"
Draco stared straight ahead, clasping his hands behind his back. "This is Ms. Granger."
At the sound of her name, Hermione winced. Should she offer her hand? Did women like Pansy even shake hands?
"Ah!" Pansy purred. "The one with the illegal Floo connection. So this is the mysterious person."
Draco's contact at the Floo Regulation Board, Hermione shivered. Of all the people to be in charge of her first illicit activity, this alluring woman, practically brimming with sinister energy, intimidated her beyond anything she'd faced so far.
"Pansy," Draco growled in warning.
"Oh, don't be so paranoid." She rolled her eyes. "I'd get in just as much trouble as the two of you."
"I'd rather not test that theory," he drawled.
"You're aware Astoria is coming to town next week?"
Draco unleashed a glare at Pansy, his most unkind yet.
The enigmatic woman simply responded with a smirk. "Of course you know. Narcissa wouldn't let that detail go forgotten." Pansy's eyes traveled past his chest, and burned into Hermione. "You should invite Ms. Granger. I'd love meeting the woman I'm risking Azkaban for."
The elevator jolted to a stop and Hermione slammed into Draco's unyielding body.
"I'll consider it."
With grace she wished to possess, he stepped out of the elevator, leaving her to pass Pansy alone.
Wicked lips parted in a grin. "Don't let him make decisions for you. Alpha's can't always have all the fun."
Flustered, Hermione stumbled out of the elevator. As she chased Draco, her throat constricted. She longed to slip into the forest unnoticed and run until she could no longer breathe. What have I gotten myself into?