Chapter Nine
A buzzing in Hermione's head was the first noise she heard when she could open her eyes again. Although she still felt a bit woozy, for the most part, she felt much better than she had when she got home. The bitter aftertaste of a healing potion coated her tongue. She was surprised to find a glass of water on her bedside table. Her "nurse" clearly thought of everything. As she reached for the glass her blanket slipped. She was embarrassed to discover she was wearing a warm nightgown she knew for a fact she hadn't put on herself. One peek down the collar of her gown proved her caretaker hadn't removed her undergarments. Even if she'd already brazenly shown him her naked body through the window of her bathroom, she was relieved to see he'd respected her enough to offer her some privacy.
Her eyes travelled around her bedroom as she gulped down the water. Healing potions could sometimes leave a patient a bit dehydrated if they weren't careful. Not even magic was perfect. The sun was already out meaning she'd managed to sleep through the entire night without waking. Details of what happened after she collapsed into Fenrir's arms were hazy. She'd been at his complete mercy in that state. What would've once terrified her somehow didn't bother her any longer. He might have been a monster in his past and possibly even still could be at times, but not where she was concerned.
It was past time that she asked the notorious werewolf the question she should've asked the first night she saw him standing out in the garden watching her house just after saving her from that horrible Muggle. As tempting as it was to remain in ignorance just a little bit longer, Hermione knew she'd already let it go on longer than it should. For whatever reason she wanted to remain ignorant. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt that way in her entire life. Surely that was significant?
But she couldn't deny that she'd let it all go on for far too long. No matter what she was going to confront him that day. There would be no more excuses. She knew without a single doubt that he wasn't there to hurt her. Not only did she know that instinctively, he'd already had plenty of chances. If he didn't hurt her when she was unconscious and entirely at his mercy, he wasn't there to cause harm. In fact, the only time he seemed even a little like the dangerous beast he'd been years earlier was when he attacked the Muggle. She couldn't allow herself to be scared that he had some sort of nefarious plan. It was evident he wasn't the same person any longer.
Getting up out of the bed was harder than she'd expected it to be. When she hit her head on her desk the evening before she hadn't realized just how hard she hit the bloody thing. She must've been moving entirely on adrenaline. How much more foolish could she have been? Fenrir was right. It was a wonder she didn't splinch herself in her determination to get home.
No doubt Robert would be terribly worried about her when he got to the office to find it full of dusty cartons. She rarely was late to work. If she left even the smallest trace of blood on the desk, his nose would probably find it. Knowing she wouldn't be fit in any way to go into the office that day and possibly not even the next, she had to get an owl to her assistant as soon as possible. All she needed to further complicate her life was for him to show up at her home looking for her and find Fenrir. What if he told someone he smelled her blood? Harry and Iain both would drop everything to come looking. If she could avoid bloodshed, she would.
She crossed the room to her desk to pull some parchment out of a drawer. As she pulled on the handle, she noticed her work robes carefully folded and hanging on the back of her desk chair. One of the pockets was ripped because at some point in the night, the carton she stuck in there before she left her office expanded again. What would she have done if Fenrir had seen it? She would have a lot of explaining to do. At least until she knew what was inside the file, she didn't want him to know that she had it.
Only a couple of words were scribbled down in her note to Robert when she was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. She looked out her bedroom window to see Robert standing at her front door. Afraid that there was about to be an altercation if he sensed the other werewolf, she dropped her quill and grabbed her wand off the bedside table. She would have to put aside her lingering weakness from her concussion to get downstairs quickly.
Unable to reach the door in time, she was still standing at the top of the stairs when Fenrir opened the front door. Hermione stood frozen, waiting for the inevitable string of curses that were about to fill up her living room. Though she could see the werewolf, he'd yet to see her. Likely he thought she was still upstairs asleep and that the sound of the doorbell would wake her up. Why else would he be so quick to open a door that wasn't his?
Instead of a duel, she witnessed Fenrir grab Robert roughly by the collar of his robes to drag him inside the house. The younger werewolf didn't even struggle out of his grasp until the front door was closed again. She tried to hold her breath to keep them from noticing her presence with their supernatural hearing.
"What are you doing here, Rob?"
"Trying to find out why Hermione isn't at work today and why I smelled her blood on her desk. But maybe the better question is what are you doing here, Fenrir?"
She bit back a gasp of surprise. If they knew she was eavesdropping she doubted she would get to hear anything else important. Both of them were known for keeping their thoughts to themselves. Evidently, they knew each other and quite well if she wasn't mistaken.
"She's all right. Just a bump on the head. She's still sleeping."
"Alone?"
"Yes, alone. I slept in the other bedroom."
Robert's deep sigh was easy to hear even from the upper floor. The one question Hermione planned to ask that day suddenly became just one of many. What was happening? How did they know each other? Why wasn't her assistant freaking out that the well-known murderer and biter of children was inside her home? Why for that matter was she not freaking out about the same? Thinking about the possibilities just made her head hurt again. She wanted to crawl back in bed.
"You said you were just going to observe her. Not engage. Not speak to her. Not let her even know you were around. Certainly not take up residence inside her house. I wouldn't have given you her address if I'd known you were going to approach her."
At least she finally had the answer to how Fenrir was able to find out where she lived in the first place. Her home wasn't exactly listed in a directory for just anyone to find. Being a well-known part of the last wizarding war made her safety a bit precarious at times. Out of respect for what she'd helped Harry accomplish, the Ministry of Magic had taken steps to protect her privacy. Robert knew where she lived because he'd been there a few times for social occasions. She couldn't understand why he would tell Fenrir Greyback where she could be found. Did he have a grudge against her she didn't realize? What other reason would there be to send a dangerous man to her home where she lived alone?
"That was the plan. I observed. I watched. For three weeks she didn't even know I was there, but there was an incident."
Hermione didn't understand how he could've been following her around for three weeks without her even knowing about it. Was she that self-absorbed that she didn't even pay close attention to her surroundings? She was about to declare internally that that couldn't possibly be the case until she heard Fenrir mention the incident. Yes, she had been wrapped up in her own world and thoughts too much to even prevent herself from being robbed by a Muggle. It was embarrassing. She'd faced down Death Eaters without flinching.
"Did she tell you what happened to her two weeks ago? Friday night after she left the Ministry?"
"No. What happened?"
"A Muggle grabbed her. He grabbed her, kept her from getting to her wand. He touched her, Rob. Would've done a lot more to her if I wasn't there."
The hair on the back of her neck stood up listening to his deep growl. She should've felt frightened being reminded of the strength and violence present in the man, but she wasn't. If anything, it was exciting.
"He wasn't alone either. If he hadn't had his mates with him, I might have killed him, but I didn't. As soon as I knew she was safely gone, I got out of there. Came back here to make sure she was really okay."
"She didn't tell me any of this. I had no idea."
No one could miss the concern in Robert's voice. As much as she might have frustrated him in recent days with her teasing about his new witch and the personal questions that in hindsight might have been too impertinent, he seemed just as ready to tear apart the damned Muggle as Fenrir. She felt encouraged knowing she had such a dear friend, even if he was clearly keeping a major secret about his association with a werewolf everyone believed to have been dead for ten years.
"Embarrassed, I'm sure. Probably didn't want you to worry. Maybe she didn't even know the danger she was in herself. I could smell what he wanted to do to her and it wasn't just steal her money."
Until she heard his deep growl again as he recounted the events of that night, Hermione didn't truly understand the gravity of the situation she'd been in when she was attacked. Sure, she was well aware that women were often in danger in more ways than men usually had to worry about, but she'd been so confident and sure in her own abilities to keep herself safe. That damned complacency she'd developed since Voldemort was killed was dangerous. She would need to be more careful. There wouldn't always be someone there to save her from her own mistakes.
"During the attack, she dropped her wallet in the alley. The Muggle found it. Found out where she lives. A few days later she came home after work and her house was vandalized. Everything was destroyed from her furniture to her knickers."
"Why would someone do that?"
"I don't know. Even Muggles have their crazies. If I can trust what my nose smelled that night and I can, he's going to come back. Might just be waiting until he thinks she's settled back down and thinks he's forgotten her, but he'll be back."
It was a truth that she hadn't wanted to embrace from the very beginning. Something about the Muggle was unhinged. She hadn't wanted to consider that there were more potential attacks in the future, but she knew she couldn't ignore the possibility any longer. There was no other reason to completely wreck her house except to send her a message. Yes, he would be back. The only question was when?
"I've been here every night since. Two nights ago it was cold so she invited me inside. I slept in the spare room then too."
"Every night? What about the Full Moon?"
Fenrir shrugged his shoulders.
"Took Wolfsbane. Hid in the hedges outside. Almost wished he'd shown up one of those nights. Wouldn't have felt the least bit sorry about ripping his throat out with my teeth."
Robert's snort of laughter broke some of the tension. As soon as he laughed, Fenrir did too. Once again she noticed how different his laughter sounded from when she heard it before. She wanted to know what happened in those years to change him into a completely different person. The monster Greyback was dead even if the man Fenrir was still alive.
"Well, I'm glad to know Hermione is safe. With you watching out for her, I'd almost pity that Muggle if he did come back."
"He was still walking the last time we met in that alley. Next time I won't be that kind to him."
"Good. I hope you won't. Especially if what you said… well, never mind. I'm glad she's not alone."
Hermione was certain that that morning was turning out to be one of the more bizarre mornings of her life. If she'd known what sort of conversation she would overhear in her own living room, she wasn't sure she would believe it. Every minute that passed with the two men still speaking, she had more questions. How did they know each other? How long had Robert known he was still alive? Why was Fenrir observing her in the first place?
"At least now some of the awkward questions she's been asking me lately make sense."
"What sort of questions?"
Torn between whether she should interrupt them to keep Robert from talking and giving away that she'd heard everything they said or slinking away to hide in her bedroom out of sheer mortification, Hermione chose neither. She stayed right where she was, praying that she wasn't about to be too embarrassed.
"Mostly about the mating rituals of werewolves."
Even from the top of the stairs she could see Robert raise a single eyebrow and the corner of Fenrir's mouth threaten to turn up into a smirk. If she could melt into a puddle of goo and slip through the cracks on the stairs never to be seen again, she would do it.
"I didn't appreciate her asking me. Thought at first that she'd picked up one of those horrible romance novels where the innocent young witch falls in love with the terrifying werewolf whose always pinning her up against trees and ripping her bodice to shreds."
She could almost hear Robert's eyes roll.
"When she'd said she'd never read one of those books, I assumed she'd met a werewolf at the Ministry that she found attractive."
"Has she?"
"I don't know, Fen. I'm not usually in the habit of asking my boss who she fancies. Thought it might be Silas Crump after she acted so oddly the other morning when she mentioned him."
"That tosser? What would she want with the likes of him?"
"Again, I don't usually ask my boss about her private relationships."
"I'm much better looking than he is."
Robert's heavy sigh was laced with exasperation.
"I only came by because I was worried about Hermione. Now that I know she's all right and well protected, I'm going back to work. Please don't tell her I was here."
"Too late. She's been listening to us since you walked in the door. Top stair squeaks. You can come down now, Hermione."
Damn his extraordinary hearing. Knowing she couldn't pretend like she'd been in bed the entire time, she reached back inside her room to pull her discarded robes over her nightgown. Fenrir might have seen her in less, but she didn't want to make Robert uncomfortable. When she felt confident that she was well-covered, she descended the stairs to meet the men where they still stood by the front door.
"Clever trick trying to hold your breath, but it didn't work. I knew you were there all along."
She might have found his smirk pleasing to look at if she wasn't so annoyed. Was it his mission to embarrass her more than she already was? There was still so much about him that she didn't know or understand.
"Good morning, Robert. Thank you for coming to check on me. I was just about to send you an owl that I won't be in the office until tomorrow."
"Monday. She won't be in the office again until Monday."
Hermione spun around as swiftly as her tired, woozy body would allow to stare down the fearsome werewolf. How dare he make decisions about when she would go back to work? She wouldn't let anyone tell her what she could do.
"Tomorrow. I will be back tomorrow."
"No, you won't. You have a concussion. You need more rest."
"You have no right to tell me what I can't do."
"Maybe not, but I will tie you to your bed if you try to leave before you're ready."
Asking him if he was serious about his threat was unnecessary. She already knew he would. There might have been a glint of amusement in his deep blue eyes as he said it but he meant every word. The room suddenly felt quite warm and her robes too heavy. Uncomfortable being caught in the middle of their argument, Robert cleared his throat.
"I'll just be going now. I'm certain it won't be a problem for me to run the office myself for however long is necessary."
He couldn't wait to make his escape. As soon as Robert said his quick goodbyes, he was out of the house. Hermione almost wished he'd stuck around a little longer. Being alone with Fenrir again made her nervous.
"You need to eat something. Come to the kitchen."
"If I'd known you were going to start bossing me around, I would've let you freeze to death in the garden."
Fenrir's amused smirk irritated her just as much as it fascinated her. She would've argued with him against ordering her about if she wasn't so hungry. Many hours had gone by since she last ate and after throwing up when she hit her head, her stomach was empty. Moving towards the kitchen she swore that at the very least she wouldn't act as if she was happy about it.
When she tried to cross the kitchen to the cupboards, Hermione felt strong but gentle hands direct her towards the table instead. An argument was on the tip of her tongue until she felt dizzy again and was grateful for the chair. From her seat she watched him move around the room with ease and confidence as if he belonged there. She wondered if he always adapted to his surroundings so easily. If so, it was a character trait she envied. She rarely felt at ease anywhere she was.
"I know you heard everything we said. Ask the question you're dying to ask."
Until Fenrir placed a cup of tea and a small plate of toast on the table in front of her, there'd been no other sounds in the kitchen since they entered other than him making breakfast. She'd been wrapped up in her own thoughts as she watched him. Where would she even begin? When she woke up that morning she really only had one question to ask. After eavesdropping, she had more. Even if she wanted to go back to living in ignorance, everything was different. She had no choice.
"You were observing me. Why?"
Fenrir sipped at his own cup of tea before he answered. Whether he was ordering his thoughts to come up with the best response or just torturing her by prolonging the suspense was unclear. Based on the serious expression on his face, she assumed it was the former. It would make sense to be at least a little nervous answering that question. How exactly did one provide an acceptable explanation for what amounted to stalking?
"You have a reputation amongst others like me. For obvious reasons, I've been a bit isolated over the last many years. Keep to my own house mostly. I have a little land in the country. Don't venture out much further than my garden usually. Don't want to really. But I kept hearing your name. Heard all about how you were working in the Ministry to try to better our lives, to overturn all of the laws that make just existing difficult. Sounded too good to be true."
"But it's not. I am trying to get rid of all of the anti-werewolf legislation. It's not fair."
"All right, but you'll have to excuse me for being skeptical. I have a long history with the Ministry of Magic and it's not been good. Any of it. When I heard there was some bright-eyed young witch who wanted to better our lives, I didn't believe it. Assumed there was something more to it. When I put the pieces together that it was you, Harry Potter's best friend and…"
From the moment he sat down at the table across from her seconds after he gave her toast, Fenrir hadn't broken eye contact. It was significant that he kept at it, proof that he was being open and honest. Only after he mentioned Harry and seemed to stutter did he drop his gaze to the delicate teacup he held with both of his large hands. Though he was a practical stranger, Hermione thought she knew him well enough to understand he wished he hadn't said what he did. There was something she thought might even be shame in the set of his jaw.
"And what?"
"And then I remembered you were the little witch on the floor at the Malfoys that Bellatrix promised me. You're not a child, not then and certainly not now. You know what would've happened if you hadn't been rescued, if that crazy bitch followed through and gave you to me."
A chill spread through her entire body. She didn't want to think about it. Ten years later she could push those thoughts out of her mind when they crept in. What good did it do to dwell on the possibilities? It didn't happen. Dobby saved her and all of the rest of them at the expense of his own life. That was all that mattered. Having the man Fenrir remind her what he'd almost done as the monster Greyback was too much. She didn't want to be afraid of him again.
"So knowing who you were it didn't make any sense to me that you would actually want to help werewolves. If you became another Dolores Umbridge fighting to restrict us even more or even execute us entirely, I wouldn't have been surprised. I thought you were just putting on a show, luring some of us into feeling safe just to do something worse. When I found out a few months ago that Rob was your assistant, I called him a fool."
"How do you know Robert?"
He shrugged his broad shoulders.
"I bit him."
He spoke so casually that the full impact of his words didn't strike her until her mouth was full of hot tea. Nearly choking, she tried not to spit it out. What other secrets and surprises was she going to learn that day? Expecting her to have something to ask or say in response, he waited for her to get control of herself without elaborating.
"You were the one who bit him?"
"Rob and I have a… complicated friendship."
Hermione wasn't sure how to process his statement. If he was the werewolf that turned Robert into a werewolf a decade earlier, how could they be anything resembling friends? There was an evident camaraderie between them she witnessed when they were talking in the living room. She would've assumed that Robert would want nothing to do with the creature who essentially ruined his life. Was that why he never told her anything about how he came to be a werewolf? Was he ashamed that he had some sort of relationship with the one responsible and didn't know how to explain? Even without the bump to her head, she thought she would still feel dizzy learning this. As it was, she was sorely regretting getting out of bed. She wanted to crawl back into the darkness under her covers for a few more hours of sleep. Maybe then she would be ready to learn more.
"He can tell you whatever details he wants to, but yes, I'm the one responsible for what he is. Do I regret it?" He sighed. "How could I not? He's a good kid. Deserves better than he got, that's for sure. There's a lot about the past I'd change if I could go back. A lot."
As much as she might have wished to know what else he was regretful about, that was not the time and it was none of her business. She didn't have a right to go barging into the man's past demanding he tell her everything. They hardly knew each other. If he wanted her to know more, he would tell her so.
"Rob thought I was dead too. Didn't expect to ever see me again. Right after the war ended, he needed a place to spend the Full Moon. He heard from some others about a small bit of land in Scotland he would be safe. I'd been recovering there since the end of the war. Rob helped me. He didn't have to, but he did. He's a better man than I am. I'd like to think he's forgiven me, but I'm not sure that is something that can be forgiven."
It hadn't been her intention to ask him about what happened to him immediately after the war ended. For some reason she was scared to know all of the facts. She remembered Robert mentioning the small group of werewolves that met in a quiet, secluded place in Scotland each month for the Full Moon. Never would she have suspected that it was the same place Fenrir lived. Now that he opened the door to the past, to the last days of the war and just after, she felt like she could ask.
"Where did you go after Hogwarts? We all thought you were dead."
"I went home. No one ever thought to look for me there. I expected someone to show up to arrest me, but it never happened. Not enough people in the Ministry remember my real name, I suppose. Or cared."
"Your real name?"
Despite the serious nature of the conversation, her question made him laugh.
"You didn't think my mum actually named me 'Fenrir Greyback', did you? And that I just coincidentally was bitten by a werewolf when I was twenty-five?"
"I suppose I never actually thought about it."
"Well, she didn't. That was a name I started going by much later after I was bitten. Kept my mum from knowing what sort of monster her son became."
There was sadness in his voice when he talked about his mother. How strange that she'd never thought of him as having a mother. Had she really thought he wasn't human? Robert was right when he said that there were some prejudices people didn't even know they held within themselves. She was learning more about herself than she cared to.
"What's your real name?"
"Doesn't matter. No one left alive ever knew him. The small part of him that still existed died with my mum. All that's left is Fenrir Greyback and a small bit of land in his name that my mum left me."
She wanted to know more, wanted to ask him what he meant by recovering. Wanted to know why he wasn't the same as he used to be. Wanted to know a hundred different facts, but stopped herself before bombarding him with questions. It still felt wrong to barge into his privacy. Maybe a day would come in the future when she felt more at ease or more welcome to do so. Not yet. She chose instead to shift the conversation back to how it began.
"So all of this started when you wanted to see if I was being honest or not? What did you expect? That you'd follow me into some sort of secret society gathering where we sacrificed werewolves on an altar?"
"Perhaps not that extreme, but yes, I wanted to make sure that you weren't lying about wanting to help, that you were indeed a good person. I asked Rob to give me your address. Took him a long time to tell me, but he finally did with the understanding that you not know I was there. I meant to keep watch a little bit longer until I was more confident and then leave you alone."
"And now?"
"Things changed."
It was a concise answer for such a big question. If there was more to his being around than just protecting her from the Muggle whom they both believed still meant her harm, he wasn't offering up that suggestion. For the near present, she would live in the moment and worry about the future later.
"Now that I've answered one of your questions, would you answer one of mine?"
Hermione thought it only fair. Feeling much lighter and less tense, she nodded.
"Why were you asking Rob about werewolf mating rituals?"
Of course he wasn't going to let that go so easily. A full-blown grin appeared on his face that she longed to remove. How much mortification could a woman take in one morning? She felt sure she was close to her limit.
"I wasn't asking him about mating rituals. I just had some questions. Academic in nature really."
"I'm sure. Like what?"
"I just asked him if it was true that werewolves had an instinct to seek out their mates."
"Like we're just animals?"
Releasing a heavy sigh, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Why must her words always be twisted around to be used against her? She didn't mean any harm. Was curiosity now a crime?
"Don't you get angry with me now too. It's a simple question. Robert all but bit my head off when I asked. I didn't understand why he was so defensive. It's not like I meant to be hurtful."
"Rob's a bit sensitive. You should know that by now. Hasn't had much luck in romance. He always seems to attract the wrong sort of witch. I can understand why he wouldn't appreciate you asking. You may have embarrassed him."
"It's my job to know as much about werewolves as I can."
Fenrir lifted a single eyebrow. No grin or hint of a smirk was on his face. She started to worry that she offended him too without meaning to.
"It's your job to ask your werewolf assistant about sex?"
"Well…"
"Let me change it around a bit. You're a woman. Would you appreciate it if your male boss asked you what your favorite positions were?"
Heat rose in her cheeks. What was his point?
"Or would you like your male supervisor to ask you if you preferred it nice and slow in bed or if you preferred when a wizard bent you over the back of a chair and took you roughly from behind?"
"No, of course, I wouldn't like that. It's sexual harassment."
"And asking a male werewolf if he's like other men or if he uses his animal instincts to hunt and stalk his mate like prey isn't? It's inappropriate to ask your assistant those sorts of questions even if he wasn't easily embarrassed. If it's wrong for a man to ask his female assistant, it's wrong for a woman to ask her male assistant."
Hermione hated that he was correct. Double standards were never all right. She would have to be more careful what she asked in the future. Good intentions or not, she didn't have to know everything. Fenrir's cheeky grin reappeared.
"If you want to know more about werewolves and sex, ask another werewolf."
She would've had to be an idiot not to understand what he was suggesting and she was no idiot. Still feeling quite flushed in her cheeks, she wanted to make an excuse to leave the room. Taking pity on her, Fenrir didn't continue the topic. He stood up, cleared off the table, and handed her a potion he picked up off the counter.
"Take this. Go back to bed. You need to rest."
Concerned that if she stayed downstairs she would find another way to embarrass herself, Hermione agreed. Once she was back inside her bedroom she closed the door and just took a deep breath. What was the strange effect the man had on her? It almost felt as if she was under the influence of a confounding spell, but she knew she wasn't.
Her gaze landed on the carton with his assumed name on it. What would she find inside? The urge to read everything was strong. If she hadn't felt so strange, she would've. It would keep, she decided. She swallowed the healing potion, climbed back in her bed, and waited for sleep. When she woke up again, she would examine the contents of the file. Until her head felt better, she wouldn't be able to concentrate.
Hours later she awoke to discover the dusty carton was gone.