Chapter Five

One of the more bizarre weeks of Hermione's life passed following the vandalism of her home. After she rushed out of her shared office with Robert she had a lot to think about. Much of the hour she took for lunch was spent staring into her teacup trying and failing to make any sense of their discussion about misconceptions and lies that had always been spread in their world about werewolves. Of course she knew that not all of them were homicidal monsters, but she couldn't deny that Fenrir Greyback was dangerous. Remus Lupin's entire life was proof of that. So was Bill Weasley's face.

If she discovered that Greyback had her under some sort of confusion or befuddlement spell, she wouldn't be surprised. At least that made some sort of logical sense. Nothing he'd done since he saved her from the Muggle had. It was as if he was a completely different person than he used to be. That wasn't possible, was it? Could he be an imposter that just happened to look and sound a lot like him? Was he really the unknown less-evil twin of the actual Greyback? Films and novels were often full of surprise twins no one expected or even wanted. Certainly that explanation made more sense that what was happening. But whatever the truth was, her curiosity kept her from telling anyone else about him. She wanted to wait to see what happened next before she let anyone in on her secret.

They settled into an odd sort of routine. She pretended she didn't know he was there and he continued to watch her from the shadows. Each time she returned to her home for the night she made certain that all of the Muggle-expelling wards he insisted on were reapplied. When she left her house for the Ministry each morning she strengthened them again. Except, of course, on the day that Margaret was expected to drop in to tidy up. She wasn't willing to give in to him on that point. In the end it didn't matter. The house was left unprotected but no dangerous criminals broke down her door again. Maybe they never would. Hadn't they done enough damage the first time to get their point across?

Hermione couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling that the Muggle who attacked her that night was far from done. As much as she hated to admit that he might be right, she couldn't deny that having the extra protection around her home helped her sleep better. If part of that comfort came from knowing all she had to do was scream to have Fenrir Greyback come running to her rescue again, she didn't dwell much on it. Crime had gotten worse in London. She'd read it all over the Muggle newspapers. A large, more concentrated population was always in danger of growing unwieldy and predatory. Her city was hardly alone in that. The world in general seemed to grow more hostile with each passing year. She'd read about criminals like the Muggle. They were ruthless, relentless. Remembering the feel of his hand on her arse made her sick to her stomach. What would've happened if Fenrir hadn't been watching?

"Are you all right, Hermione?"

Robert's concerned question broke through her worsening thoughts. Thankful for the distraction, she looked across her desk at her assistant and smiled. Her assurance that she was all right and only lost in thought about what she was researching did not convince the perceptive man. At least he didn't badger her when he didn't believe her like all of the other people in her life tended to do. Since the incident with the violet quill days earlier, Robert had something on his mind that he wasn't willing to share. She didn't want to lie to him if he asked something she couldn't answer, but she also didn't think she could confide in him. Afraid he was about to pluck up the necessary courage, Hermione chose to try to steer the conversation away into another direction.

"It's Friday. Do you have any plans with the lovely Miss Desford this evening?"

His cheeks flushed at the mere mention of the pretty witch from the Improper Use of Magic office. She smiled. Did he know how charming and adorable he was?

"No, I'm afraid not. It's a Full Moon tonight. I won't be up for much of anything all weekend."

Hermione was surprised to hear it was the night of the Full Moon. Usually she was good to remember it. Having a werewolf in her office was a good reminder most months. Had her mind been so preoccupied that she hadn't been paying attention? She decided that of course she'd been too distracted. It had been a very strange week after all.

"Where do you go during Full Moons?"

The moment the question came out of her mouth she wished she hadn't said anything. What possessed her to ask? Robert was always very private and sensitive when it came to his condition. She was all out of sorts.

"I'm sorry, Robert. I shouldn't have asked. You don't have to tell me."

"No, Hermione, it's all right. I've been thinking lately that maybe I've been too private. It's not my fault what happened to me. What do I have to be ashamed of?"

She was proud of him for being so bold. It couldn't have been easy in an unforgiving society like theirs. While she wasn't sure what the sudden change in him was about, she was glad to see a little fire in him. Part of what they were working so hard for in their dingy, cramped office was to make their world more friendly and welcoming of others like him. How could they even hope for that to be a reality if he kept hiding too?

"I have a place in Scotland I go each month. It's quiet and secluded. Even with Wolfsbane Potion I feel more comfortable staying as far away from people as I can."

"Are you alone there?"

There was sadness behind his smile.

"No, I'm afraid I'm not. There are several just like me who spend the Full Moon there. We've had to learn to rely on each other."

"Is it like a pack?"

Robert cleared his throat.

"Sort of, but not exactly. It's hard to explain. It's easier when we're together, but we're not animals, Hermione. We're still people."

She hoped she hadn't offended him by asking the question about the pack, but she couldn't deny she was fascinated. There were few sources to get real information about werewolves outside of asking one impertinent questions. And as those sources were generally wrong and incredibly biased, there wasn't much factual to learn. She'd read many terrible books describing werewolves as little more than animals capable of feeling only base desires and urges. Nothing was ever mentioned about their humanity even though that's exactly what they were the vast majority of the time. If she wasn't afraid to insult her assistant, she would've loved to sit down with him and ask all of the questions she had swirling around her head with no answers.

"No, I'm sorry. Of course you're not animals. I didn't mean to imply that you were."

"We were strangers, but we needed each other. Especially after the end of the last war. We've become close. Maybe closer than friends because we rely on each other so much, but no, it's not like a wolf pack."

There was a note of bitterness in his tone that he didn't even try to disguise. Hermione could only imagine what sort of discrimination he'd faced since the night he was bitten. Had there been people who hadn't worried about offending him in the past who asked him ghastly questions that were none of their business and hurtful? Even though they'd been coworkers and friends from quite some time, Hermione tried to remain respectful of his barriers. Just as he never asked her private questions about her health, she never said anything about his affliction. Was the reemergence of Fenrir Greyback in her life to blame for her increased curiosity and boldness?

"Hermione, look here." Robert held his hands up for her to see. "What do you see?"

She feared he was asking her a trick question. When she didn't immediately answer, he leaned across the desk to put his hands just centimeters from her face. As he turned them over and back several times, she still didn't know what he was expecting her to see. There was nothing strange or out of the ordinary about his hands. Perhaps his nails were too clean indicating he was a little bit more concerned about cleanliness and germs than was healthy, but even they were trimmed neatly and evenly. Was she supposed to see something odd about them?

"I just see your hands, Robert. What is the point you're trying to make?"

"Yes, just hands. Regular, normal human hands. Do you see any claws?"

"Of course not."

"No, you don't. Because I'm a man. What about in my mouth? What do you see?"

He opened his mouth wide to show two rows of perfectly straight white teeth that even her dentist parents would've been proud of. Sensing what he wanted her to say, she bit back a sigh of frustration and replied.

"Just normal, human teeth."

"Exactly. No fangs yet. No sharp canines. Because with the exception of the few hours a month the Full Moon is in the sky, I'm just a man. There are a number of misconceptions out there about werewolves that far too many believe to be fact."

A quiet alarm on Robert's watch sounded before he could continue. Part of Hermione was relieved that he had to leave to keep her from embarrassing herself further, but mostly she wanted to know everything. What else did she assume was true about werewolves that was completely false?

"If you'll excuse me, I must make my way to Scotland. Night falls so much earlier this time of year."

As he tidied the parchment on his desk in preparation to leave for the weekend, some of his usual shyness and reticence to speak about his condition returned. It was unlike him to be so honest. She didn't wish for it to remain awkward between them over the coming few days. When he pulled his cloak over his shoulders and started for the door, Hermione stood and gently grasped his forearm to get him to stop. Though he fought it at first, she didn't speak until his deep green eyes stared into hers.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Robert. That's the last thing I'd ever want."

His heavy, defeated sigh threaten to break her heart. She'd never been terribly good with people. Friendships were hard to make and relationships impossible to keep. Most people she knew didn't like her much for a variety of valid reasons. Whenever she was in danger of alienating another loved one, she feared for the day when she would have no one left in her life. It always felt like a terrifying and real possibility.

"I know that, Hermione, but you really should be more careful. Sometimes you ask too many questions. It's fine if you do it to me because I know you don't mean to be insulting…"

"Of course I don't!"

"You must be very careful around other werewolves, Hermione. Especially ones you don't know very well."

There was another warning in his tone that was left unspoken. Or perhaps her guilty conscience was just hearing something that wasn't really there. Was Robert warning her to be careful around other werewolves because he knew she had a mostly silent shadow following her around? Did he know about Greyback still being alive? He'd held the violet quill that he'd bought for her. He might not have said anything, but she didn't miss how his nostrils flared. Did he know that the feared murderer and former follower of Lord Voldemort himself had been close enough to leave his scent on her quill?

Robert didn't say anything else before he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and left the office for the weekend. Being left alone with a lot on her mind kept Hermione from being very productive for the rest of the work day. When the clock struck five, she left the Ministry like a normal person.

It felt strange to realize he wasn't waiting for her outside of the Ministry. When she arrived in the alley a short distance from her heavily warded home, she found his absence almost sad. Only a week had gone by since he flew out of the darkness to rescue her from a dangerous situation. How did she get used to his presence in such a short period of time?

As darkness fell and she smuggled into her warm bed with Crookshanks curled up next to her, she couldn't help but think about Fenrir. Where was he? Did he have a place like Robert where he could pass the night safely and away from others he might harm? She almost laughed at that last thought. When had Fenrir Greyback ever worried about keeping away from innocent people he might harm during his transformations? A long line of bodies and ruined lives stretched back to the werewolf. He didn't deserve to have someone worrying about his safety.

Except it seemed that no matter how hard she tried not to think of him, she couldn't help it. A sleepless night passed as she replayed every single interaction they had in the previous week in her head. Then she thought about all of the times in the past she'd been afraid of him and at his mercy. How could she continue to think and worry about him after she remembered the horrible promises he made to her at Malfoy Manor? How could she calmly allow him to remain near her without raising any alarms when she thought about his innocent victims?

There was more to what was going on than she knew. Some sort of mystery or misunderstanding. Nothing else made any sense. Or she might have been going insane. That was always a possibility whether she wanted to recognize it as one or not. How else could she explain her willingness to forget all of his victims, including the high number of innocent children? Assuming, of course, that that hadn't all been a lie. Robert said werewolves were often accused of wishing to build an army of children and he'd never heard of that being true. Hermione knew only of Remus Lupin's attack as a child for certain. There'd been rumors of the poor Montgomery boy being another one of his victims, but that hadn't been proven. Greyback was hardly the only werewolf Voldemort used for his nefarious purposes.

By Monday morning on her way to the Ministry, he still hadn't returned. Had the transformation gone badly? Was he still recovering? Robert wasn't usually himself for the few days after the Full Moon. Having the entire weekend to rest made a big difference. The tension from their Friday discussion was gone when her assistant entered the office. There were no more impertinent questions from Hermione no matter how much she wanted to ask them. The day passed slowly, however, as she couldn't stop thinking about Fenrir.

"Don't work too late, Hermione. All of this will keep until the morning."

It was a frequent statement she heard from her assistant on his way out the door many evenings. He was absolutely correct. Very little of what they did had hard deadlines. Securing an audience with the Minister for Magic or any of the other department heads was difficult to accomplish on short notice. They had to ensure their appointment was on their schedule weeks, sometimes even months, in advance. There was always plenty of time to prepare. Truthfully, she usually only worked as hard and long as she did because she didn't have anything better to do. She liked working. Perhaps she did too much of it, but if she was happy, what did it matter? She wasn't hurting anyone.

Shortly after Robert made his excuses to go home, Hermione decided to call it a night too. The longer she remained at work, the further her mind traveled. Most of the Ministry's workers had already gone home as she made her way to the employee exit in the Atrium. Some days she had to push away the jealousy that welled up inside of her when she thought of how eager so many of her coworkers were to get home to their loved ones. It was all too easy to be envious of what she didn't have.

One step outside into the freezing night air and she knew she wasn't alone. The familiar sensation of being watched from the shadows was a welcome distraction from her depressing thoughts of her own loneliness. She didn't need to look behind her to know she was being followed. At a safe distance away from the Ministry's Anti-Apparition wards, she thought about her intended destination and spun in place.

Her stop before heading home took a bit longer than she planned. Evidently she wasn't the only person in London leaving work with no desire to cook. While she waited in the front of the Muggle restaurant for her takeaway order, she wondered where her shadow had gone. Was he frustrated with her that she went somewhere he couldn't follow? Was he worried that she was getting herself into trouble he couldn't save her from? A chuckle exploded out of her at the thought before she could stop it. In what topsy-turvy universe could she possibly live in that it was even a possibility that Fenrir Greyback worried about her safety? It was all preposterous. Soon she would learn the real reason for his surveillance from the shadows and she highly doubted it was anything positive. She was being foolish. A sane person would've reported him the moment she saw him again. Nothing about her behavior had been the least bit sane from the very beginning.

There was plenty of time to think as her food was prepared. For the first several minutes she kept turning towards the door expecting to see Greyback on the pavement. He'd been able to follow her to Diagon Alley after all. She'd verified and reverified that she didn't have any tracking spells on her or any of her possessions. Magic always left a trace. She found nothing. The more she considered the facts, the more she decided it was just dumb luck he was able to find her in Diagon Alley. Maybe when he realized she didn't immediately Apparate home, he just picked a random Wizarding district. It was possible he was tracking her by her scent, a possibility she didn't like to think much about. He probably just picked up her scent outside of the Leaky Cauldron and followed her to the stationary shop. The longer she stayed in the restaurant without him suddenly appearing, the more that theory made sense.

Her stomach angrily protested its emptiness when the bag containing her meal for the evening was finally handed over. Hermione found a dark corner behind the restaurant to Disapparate to her corner of the city. Thanks to the horrible Muggle she was on guard for the first time since Voldemort was finally defeated. Careful to pay close attention to her surroundings as she approached her home in the dark, she didn't relax until she was back inside her home with the damned wards reapplied. Crookshanks greeted her with a loud meow from his perch on the kitchen table.

"Hello, dear. Did you have a pleasant day at the office?"

It was a private joke she played with her cat that she was sure would've appeared quite sad and pathetic to an outsider. Crookshanks likely had his own thoughts about her frequently pretending he was more than just a cat, but thankfully, he couldn't speak beyond growls and annoyed mewling. Hermione scratched him behind the ears once then returned to the important business of dinner.

A shadow in her back garden caught her eye. Startled at first, she realized that it was just Fenrir leaning back against her gate. It was the closest he'd gotten to her house since the night it was vandalized. Lingering in her neighbor's garden was no longer enough for the werewolf. She wasn't sure it was wise to get used to the odd sense of comfort knowing he was out there brought her. Pulling two plates from the cupboard, she divided the double order of food she'd made at the restaurant between them. She poured two glasses of her favorite red wine.

He didn't say anything when she opened the back door. No greeting or even acknowledgment that he knew she was there. Nor did she. Hermione set one of the plates and one of the glasses on the small table she liked to use for breakfast when the weather was nice. She was back inside the warm house with the door locked before he even moved towards the kind gesture. The night was cold. It was the least she could do.

A clean plate and glass were the only clues that there had been a werewolf in her back garden the next morning. Hermione wasn't sure what to expect when she pulled open the back door to let Crookshanks out after his breakfast. If he was still there, would she say something to him? Or would she continue to pretend as if he didn't exist until he told her himself?

None of her questions had any answers as she left her home for the Ministry. Only more questions formed. It was enough to drive a person completely mad. Maybe all of the warnings she'd received over the years about working too much were finally coming to pass. She'd worked too hard and too much for far too long. Kingsley kept pleading with her to take a long holiday. The more confused she grew with her current situation, the more appealing that sounded.

If she took a holiday from work, where would she go? She knew lots of people who liked to run from the cold weather by traveling to places with a warmer climate, but she rather liked the cold. It seemed a shame to leave. A quiet cottage in the country could always be found even if the thought of spending days on end entirely by herself sounded like torture. Secluded cottages were only good for steamy, romantic trips for two. With no hope of a companion, hiding away sounded more depressing than relaxing. And would her shadow follow her there too? It was awkward enough to know he was in the back garden.

"Hermione? Hermione?"

Robert's voice broke her out of her thoughts for yet another time that day. Thanks to the enigmatic Fenrir Greyback, she'd had trouble focusing on anything she was doing. Her assistant's amused smirk embarrassed her.

"Business or pleasure?"

"Excuse me, what?"

"Are you lost in thought about business or pleasure?"

It was an innocent tease, but Hermione could feel her cheeks flush as she absorbed what he was asking. She certainly was not thinking about business and thinking about Greyback in any way was hardly pleasurable. He was simply a mystery. And she hated how her traitorous thoughts went down a dangerous path when mention was made of pleasure. Flashes of the werewolf in varying degrees of undress assaulted her mind without warning. She hadn't missed that there was something attractive about the man when he wasn't trying to murder or violate everyone in his path. His smile when he was standing in her kitchen repairing all of her broken dishes caught her off-guard. Over a few seconds later, she almost didn't believe it was real. Were there other circumstances where he might find it acceptable to smile again?

"I was just thinking about the Larsen case from last week and whether or not all of the forms were filled out correctly."

"Oh, of course, but I'm sure you did just fine."

His cheeky grin made it clear he thought she was lying. To his credit, he didn't call her out on it. Just simply asked her the question he'd been trying to ask when her mind was elsewhere. She gave him an answer, wishing she could focus on work. No matter what she tried to do for the rest of the day, Hermione's mind continued to wander. Nothing she worked on was finished or even close. All she could think about was the frustrating werewolf and how his mere presence was messing up her well-ordered life.

A knock on the doorframe of their office startled Hermione out of another daydream where she was brave enough to approach Greyback to ask him exactly what he was doing. Embarrassed once again, she looked up to see Miss Nanette Desford from the Improper Use of Magic Office standing in the doorway smiling at a flustered Robert. He began shifting his parchment around his desk for something to keep his hands occupied. It wasn't difficult to see what it was about Robert that the witch found attractive. He was positively endearing.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you, but Robert, you said you would meet me in the Atrium at half-past five. It's a quarter to six now."

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry, Nanette. I was caught up."

"I suspected as much."

The pretty witch smiled again. Neither of them seemed to even notice Hermione was still sitting there. Deciding that there was no way that she was going to get anything done that day and that the two of them might appreciate a few minutes alone, she stood up quickly.

"I think I will call it a night. See you in the morning, Robert. Not too early, of course."

The deepening blush to his cheeks made both women giggle. Hermione was out of the door faster than her mortified assistant could splutter out a single word in response. It was no more than he deserved, she decided, for teasing her earlier about being lost in thought.

One of Hermione's least attractive personality traits and one she tried very hard to control was her envious nature. Just as she often found herself staring at the excited Ministry officials on their way home to spend their evening with their loved ones, she felt the familiar swirl of jealousy in her gut when she thought about Robert and Miss Desford. New relationships were fun. The first few weeks, especially the first few nights, were intoxicating. It was so easy to get lost in that excitement. She could hardly remember what it felt like.

As she climbed the stairs to the lowest level the lift actually serviced, she tried to push away the feelings of envy that threatened to choke her. Of all of the people in the world that she knew and loved, Robert deserved to find happiness more than any of them. For too many years he'd been forced to live on the sidelines while everyone else around him had normal relationships and fell in love. Conditions were getting better for werewolves, but they still had a long, hard road. There was still so much hatred and prejudice in their society that she wasn't sure they would ever be finished.

"Hermione! Hold the lift."

She'd been so lost in her self-chastising thoughts that she hadn't realized there was someone else behind her in the corridor. Passing the entrance to the Department of Mysteries from the general direction of the courtrooms was her ex-boyfriend, Auror Iain Proudfoot. She held in her frustrated groan. What dreadful timing he had! When she was herself and not wallowing in self-pity, she usually could see him from a distance. Avoiding him had been the only thing keeping her from doing something foolish like throwing herself at the wizard. Theirs had been a passion that never really waned. Only their conflicting schedules and the realization that two workaholics could never have a successful future ended what they had. Before she could talk herself into being terribly rude and forcing the door to the lift closed in his face, his long legs carried him inside the confined space.

"Hello, Iain. It's been a while."

"Yes, it has been. One might think you were avoiding me."

He said it with a wink that only reminded her of other times he liked to wink. It wasn't fair that during such a confusing point in her life she was forced to be alone with a man she couldn't think straight around. Iain Proudfoot was one of the most respected Aurors in the department. How many times had she been forced to listen to Harry drone on and on about how wonderful he was? It was Harry's hope that she would get back together with one of his favorite coworkers. Ten years older than she, he had enough life experience and maturity that she felt like they were on an equal playing field. She'd always struggled with dating men her own age. Most of them were too immature and too boring. Ron was an exception to the too boring part, at least. When she was with Iain, she felt like an equal partner. It was an experience that she didn't have much of. Certainly not in the romantic sense.

"I have been working a lot. Not avoiding you."

"I'm not sure I believe that."

Another devilish grin. They used to have a lot of fun together. Why had she been avoiding him again? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Jealousy and loneliness were a terrible combination, especially if an ex was nearby. If she wasn't careful, she was going to do something she'd come to regret.

"You could always make it up to me by letting me buy you a drink at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Okay."

Hermione agreed without thinking. The word just fell out. But, once she said it, she found she didn't regret it. All she had to look forward to that evening was another night alone with her cat. She was too young to settle into that depressing routine forever. Besides, she and Iain were both adults. It was entirely possible that they could keep their interactions on a purely platonic level.

Two glasses of wine and countless laughs later, she wasn't so sure. It was easy to remember what it was about Iain that she fell in love with years ago. A Gryffindor of the worst kind, he was brave, courageous, noble, and all of the other traits that were exemplified in their shared House. If he was a bit stubborn and arrogant and perhaps a tiny bit self-righteous, well, that was no more than any of the rest of the Gryffindors, including herself, could say. He could make her laugh with no effort. It was a trait of his that she cherished most.

"We shouldn't have waited this long to do this, Hermione. I've missed you."

For the first time in over a week when the Muggle attacked her in the dark, she was able to think about something other than the werewolf. Unsure if it was wise to ignore her concerns about Greyback, even for the short-term, she allowed herself to slip back three years in time to when life seemed a little bit simpler.

"Do you ever think about getting back together?"

"Iain, I don't think…"

He gently pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as he spoke. Staring into his eyes, she felt the wine going straight to her head. Had she remembered to eat lunch? She couldn't be sure. The day passed in a blur. Iain leaned closer. If he kissed her, she wasn't sure if she was going to push him away or offer him more.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. A feeling of being watched fell over her again. Before Iain's lips could press against hers, Hermione turned her head to the corner of the room she felt his presence. Sitting at a table far from the fireplace in near darkness was a scowling Fenrir Greyback. If he'd looked at her the way he was at any other time in their acquaintance, she would've been very afraid. Instead, seeing how intensely he stared at her with an expression of anger, she felt excited.

Laying her hand gently on Iain's thigh and turning her face back towards her ex, she could've sworn she heard a soft growl.