Chapter Twenty-Two
A scream caught in Hermione's throat. Her heart-rate was up and her skin felt hot all over. When she woke up to the unexpected sensations she'd been frightened. What was happening? It was only when she opened her eyes fully that she realized her thighs rested on Fenrir's broad, bare shoulders. A deep moan escaped her mouth at the feel of his skilled tongue. He paused only briefly to smile, clearly proud of himself.
If he was going to wake her up that way every day, she could see how easily she might become a cheerful morning person. Certainly she didn't have any complaints. Who needed an obnoxious alarm clock when there was a much more pleasurable option? He sped up his motions, concentrating on the sensitive bundle of nerves guaranteed to make her pant. Like a master musician with his favorite instrument, he knew exactly how to pluck her body to make it sing.
Her legs still trembled and the echo of his shouted name still hung in the air when he deftly flipped her over from her back to her hands and knees. She had no coherent thoughts as he slammed into her over and over from behind. There were times he preferred to be gentle and slow. This was not one of those times. She, again, had zero complaints. Fisting the sheets in both her hands, she simply tried to hold on. The delightful sensations made thinking nearly impossible. She was grateful for the mental respite even if it eventually had to end. For just a few more blissful minutes until Fenrir all but collapsed on her back, she was free from all worries or stress.
"You know a girl could get used to a wake-up like that."
"I'll keep that in mind."
He rolled off of her onto his back to catch his breath.
"You teased me the other day about being addicted to you, but I think you are the one who is addicted."
"I won't deny it."
"After yesterday in the greenhouse, I would think you'd be bored with me. I got dirt in places one should never get dirt and I think there is still a splinter in my bum from that wooden table."
"Oh dear, something should be done about that."
In one swift motion he was off his back and hovering over her again. His hands and lips began a thorough search for the splinter. Through her giggles she tried to beg him to stop. He refused. When she wiggled around enough that she was once more on her back underneath his predatory gaze, it surprised neither of them when they were both ready for more. It was clear they were both addicted.
"What has gotten into you this morning?"
Fenrir laughed as he carefully pulled her off the bed. Neither one of them had been able to take a shower alone for days and it looked as if the enjoyable trend would continue. Not that she minded one bit. Not releasing her hand, he led her into the bathroom before he answered.
"The Full Moon is tonight. For some werewolves, especially those of us lucky enough to have a gorgeous witch in our beds, our appetites can increase."
"Oh, I see. So I can expect another morning like this one every month?"
"More, if you're interested."
"I'm definitely interested."
It was good that Hermione had already planned not to go back into the office. She would've been very late if she tried. By the time the two of them managed to finally emerge from the bathroom clean and fully dressed, a large portion of the morning was already gone. He might've been interested in tossing her back on the bed if his stomach wasn't crying out for breakfast. Hermione was glad for a chance to rest in a chair while she watched him move around the kitchen from the table.
"I'd offer to help you cook, but I'm not sure my legs would allow me to stand for very long."
"Good." He smirked at her over his shoulder. "Maybe this is what I should do every morning to keep you from running away towards danger."
He might've been trying to keep a light, teasing tone, but she knew there was sincerity in his words. When she left the day before, she'd scared him. Considering someone else's feelings before she did what she wanted was something she knew would take time to get used to again. He was worth it though. In an effort to keep the conversation from returning to how she ran off, she chose to change the subject.
"You said tonight is the Full Moon?"
He nodded. It was nearly unbelievable to think how much about her life had changed in such a short time. When the moon was last full, she still hadn't talked to Fenrir about why he continued to stand out in the shadows watching. Part of her had been afraid to know. What would the Hermione from just a month ago think about her life?
"Where should I spend the night? Is it safe for me..?"
"You'll stay right here. You will be safe, I promise."
The hot breakfast was dished out and he was seated in his usual chair before he offered any further explanations. She had to smile at the sheer amount of food piled on his plate. All of his appetites were elevated.
"I know I tease you about the security wards on your house, but they really don't compare to what I have on mine. That's not a criticism, I promise. Your house just doesn't need what mine does. Most months we have as many as ten or twelve werewolves passing the Full Moon here. We've been fortunate to have enough Wolfsbane for everyone lately, but that's not always been the case. The property is warded to prevent a transformed werewolf from leaving. Out of concern for my house and especially my greenhouse and gardens, I warded it so no transformed werewolf can come inside. Not even me. It's helped before when we had a husband or wife who was nervous about a first transformation. They were able to stay inside and watch from the windows. You'll be safe."
Knowing she wouldn't have to leave that night brought Hermione an immense sense of relief. There really wasn't anywhere else she felt safe. Her own home would've been used only as a last resort. She also couldn't deny that she was curious about the others who came to pass the night in a safe location. Did she know them all? It still surprised her that she'd never met Chiara Lobosca even after so many years working with werewolves. She'd never even heard her name. Thinking about Chiara made her think about Robert. Something had been bothering her ever since she received the first threatening message on her desk.
"You told me if I ever had any impertinent questions about werewolves that I should ask you."
"Please tell me you want to know more about mating rituals. I'll be happy to give you some hands-on lessons after breakfast."
His cheeky wink made her smile even as she rolled her eyes. Somehow she doubted he would ever let her live down that particular embarrassing moment.
"I'm going to tell you something first, but you have to promise me you won't get mad."
"There's absolutely no way I could ever make that promise, Hermione."
"Will you at least try?"
It was all he could offer. She supposed it was something. Deep down she knew he had every right to be angry. She should've told him from the very beginning.
"A few mornings ago when I went into my office there was a threatening note left on my desk."
Fenrir sat up straighter, clenched his jaw, and tried to hide the fact he was taking a deep breath. It seemed that he was indeed trying not to get angry.
"I showed it to Harry and he was worried enough about it that he made me show it to the Minister. Kingsley ordered me to stop researching 'Operation Moonlight'. Then, the morning we found Lyall, there was a photograph on my desk of his dead body and a warning written on the back telling me that the next body would be mine if I didn't stop looking."
His hands squeezed into fists.
"Why are you just telling me about these threats now?"
"Because I didn't want you to worry about me."
"No, you didn't want me to make you stop looking."
Of course she couldn't deny the truth when it was spoken. He was absolutely correct. It wasn't just an attempt to shield him from anxiety. She knew he would do whatever he could to protect her even if it meant begging or forcing her to forget 'Operation Moonlight' ever existed.
"I'm sorry. It was wrong."
"How can I keep you protected if I don't know when you're in danger, Hermione?"
"It's not your job to protect me."
"No, it's not, but there's nothing else in the entire world that I want to do more."
Much calmer than he'd been only seconds earlier, he seemed almost sad. His fists unclenched and he sighed. She realized for perhaps the first time that he didn't see her as just an obligation or even just a fun time in bed. The feelings he had for her were real. Needing to do something to show him she understood and felt badly about shutting him out, Hermione rose from the table, took two steps in his direction, placed both her hands on his cheeks, and kissed him gently. His arm snaked around her back to pull her into his lap. She laid her cheek on his chest, unable to ignore the rapid beating of his heart.
"I'm not going to make you promise me that you forget about the damned program even though I wish you would, because I think I understand you well enough to know you're too stubborn to give it up. All I ask if that you promise me that you will always try to be careful and don't lie to me."
It was easy enough to promise once she understood he had no intention of trying to change her into someone she wasn't. Reckless curiosity was a part of who she had always been. She appreciated him accepting her as she was, dangerous flaws and all.
"There was more, wasn't there? You had a question about werewolves?"
"Yes, well, something has bothered me. Robert wasn't there in the office when I found the first message, but the second one was laying on my desk when he was there."
Fenrir's blue eyes narrowed.
"Do you suspect that Rob was the one who is threatening you?"
"No! Or at least I don't think so. Wouldn't he have known who left it on my desk?"
"Maybe if he saw them do it. Did you ask him?"
"Well, no, but could he… He's a werewolf. Couldn't he smell who might have been in the office?"
A grin tugged at his lips that he tried not to give in to. If he was able to find something amusing in her story about being threatened, she couldn't imagine what it might be. Recognizing he was frustrating her, Fenrir cleared his throat. All hints he was about to smile were gone.
"Yes, werewolves do have a heightened sense of smell. Even when we're not transformed we can smell a lot better than regular humans. If we are close to someone or know them particularly well, we can even pick out their scents. When I was following you and you didn't go immediately home, I would pick a random place I thought you might go. If I could pick up a hint that you'd been there recently, I could usually find you. Of course it wasn't a perfect solution. Sometimes you went Merlin knows where and I couldn't find you at all. Had to wait near your house to find you again."
"You knew my scent? How?"
"Your scent has haunted my dreams."
He offered no further explanation. Perhaps there would be another time more appropriate to ask him to elaborate. There was still so much she wanted to know about him and what he meant.
"One thing you have to understand is that too many scents can be very overwhelming. And they can linger in our nostrils for a long time if they're especially overpowering. Robert isn't just smelling the scents inside your office. He's smelling everything that's on the same Level as your office as well as everything he walked through to get there. If a witch had a particularly strong perfume on in the lift, he'd be stuck with that smell for a long time. It's hard to make sense of all the smells unless you're specifically searching for something. Maybe Rob could smell who left the note, but that doesn't mean he would know at once that person had been inside the office. Not unless they touched everything or sat in his chair or left an especially pungent aroma behind."
She began to feel a little bit better about her assistant. Likely she was just being overly paranoid. Robert had been in a strange mood for a few weeks, but that didn't necessarily mean it had anything to do with her. It was a bit self-absorbed to assume that everyone else's lives revolved around hers. Fenrir's explanation did make sense. She didn't really understand their heightened senses after all. Very few did. The only books written about werewolves were hardly informative. Mostly made up of propaganda to frighten or titillate the reading public, the literature was almost always heavily skewed in the wrong direction or full of outright lies. She wondered if she could ever convince enough werewolves to give a true account of what it was like to be one to replace those atrocious books.
"Why would you think Rob had anything to do with the threatening messages?"
"I don't know. It's probably silly, but he's just been acting so bizarrely around me. I hardly recognize him."
"Did it all start around the same time he knew I was sleeping in your house?"
She nodded. That was at least when she first noticed it. Other than a few times being frustrated with her when she'd asked nosy questions she now knew were inappropriate, he'd been the same person she'd known for years until that morning he stopped by her house to find Fenrir inside.
"I'm afraid that's probably my fault."
"How?"
"He assumes I've already told you. Said so as much the other day and nothing I could tell him could convince him otherwise, so I'm not going to feel guilty about actually telling you."
Nothing he said made sense. She was about to tell him so until he explained what he meant.
"Rob's in a bit of trouble. He's embarrassed and being stubborn and pigheaded about it, but that's who he is. Too much damn pride. You'd think he was a Gryffindor."
"What sort of trouble?"
"Financial. I don't know all of the details. When I asked, he all but threatened to curse me. Last month one day when Chiara was delivering the Wolfsbane potion to me, she confided in me that Rob had asked her for some money. Said he was in a bind and wondered if he could borrow some. She would've been glad to help, but she doesn't have any money either. Especially not what he needed. I thought I was being helpful when I offered him a loan. Usually I try to avoid going into Gringotts, for obvious reasons, but I know a goblin in there who won't say anything as long as I slip him a few galleons first. I have more money in my vault than I could spend in three lifetimes. My dad was Aunt Hepzie's only surviving heir and I was his. The Smith vault used to be right by the dragon… when there still was one."
He couldn't resist the urge to wink at the mention of the poor Gringotts dragon she helped liberate during the war. It was a story that was quickly becoming a legend in their society. Most of the true details had long been replaced with much more interesting and exaggerated details. She supposed that was how all stories evolved over time.
"I would just give Rob whatever he needed, but he refused. Said it was none of my business and he didn't need to be anyone's charity case. Told me to bugger off and never offer to give him a single bronze knut ever again or he'd kill me. I mean, he could try, but he wouldn't succeed."
"Why would he ask Chiara for money, but turn you down?"
"For the same reason he insists on paying for the ingredients used to make his Wolfsbane potion each month despite not being able to afford it. Because accepting anything from me that might possibly assuage some of my guilt for biting him is expressly forbidden. He and I are friends, but not entirely. He never wants me to forget for a second what I did to him."
Weeks earlier when Fenrir described their friendship as 'complicated', he hadn't been exaggerating. It sounded very frustrating. How could they really be friends if Robert insisted on shoving Fenrir's guilt in his face all the time?
"But why has he been cold and weird with me lately? I don't understand that part. He's not the same."
"He thinks that you and I gossip about him behind his back. He's always been too sensitive, but whatever trouble it is that he's gotten himself into has just made him more so. He accused me of telling you he had money problems. He was upset because you accused him of looking around in your desk and stealing something? I didn't understand. He was so angry."
"I didn't accuse him of stealing! I just asked if… well, I suppose I did ask him if he'd looked inside my desk because I couldn't find a list of names I'd written down."
Hermione regretted asking him the question the very moment it came out of her mouth. Her assistant was the sort of proper stiff upper lip gentleman who wouldn't show on the outside how offended he was even if he'd been deeply wounded. Did Robert really believe she thought he was looking through her desk trying to find something of value to steal? Pride and mortification could make even a logical, sane person behave irrationally, she supposed. Certainly she hadn't always been the most level-headed, sensible person when her feathers had been ruffled. If the awkwardness between them began when he knew she had some sort of unconventional relationship with Fenrir, it only got worse after that day she asked him about the list being stolen. She sighed.
"He's just going to need to get over himself. Too much sensitivity isn't healthy."
Fenrir chuckled.
"Good luck trying to convince him of that. I've been trying to toughen him up for ten years. If anything, I think I've only helped make him more sensitive."
Frustrated and annoyed discussing her presently infuriating assistant, Hermione kissed Fenrir again before climbing out of his lap. If she was going to work on the project Rita suggested, she needed to get started sooner rather than later. She excused herself from the kitchen while he started the clean-up. As guilty as she felt leaving it all to him, she wanted to sneak into his greenhouse to retrieve the files without him knowing.
She was in and out of his greenhouse with the files in her pocket before he'd even finished the dishes. After she promised him just a few minutes earlier that she wouldn't lie to him, she didn't want to immediately break it by not explaining what she was working on. Instead, she picked up a book to pretend to read it until he went to work.
The first thing she did when she heard the click of the greenhouse door behind him was to start making the copies of the evidence file she knew she would need. Eternally grateful for the ease with which duplicates could be made with magic, it didn't take long before the lounge was nearly full with thousands of pieces of parchment flying through the air to sort themselves into one of one hundred stacks. Rita helped her compile a list of the important people she needed to send the evidence parcels to. With fifty esteemed members of the Wizengamot alone, it was important that she made numerous copies. If it was true that the more people who held it in their hands, the safer Hermione was, she was going to find out.
One of the main problems she had with the plan was the simple fact that she hadn't had the time or opportunity to fully read everything. She wanted to see every single disgusting detail. Feeling like she was only scratching the surface wasn't something she liked. She wanted to deep-dive headfirst into the files. There just wasn't enough time. Her luck couldn't hold out forever. Eventually someone was going to catch up with her. It felt like she wasn't going to be able to do a thorough job, but what she did have was damning enough. What else would she discover if she had the chance to keep looking?
As soon as every single piece of evidence she possessed was copied exactly one hundred times, she shrunk the individual cartons and packed them away inside her beaded bag. Hiding one set of the copied files in the cushions of the sofa, she used the few minutes Fenrir left to make another delivery to the Muggle grocery store to sneak the original files back into her hiding place in the greenhouse. For the time being, she would only work from the copies. The originals needed to be safe.
If Fenrir suspected she was working on something related to 'Operation Moonlight' when he returned to find her scratching away with a quill, he didn't say anything. It meant a great deal to her to know that he trusted her. Any other wizard from her past wouldn't have been so kind and understanding. They would've demanded she cease all research immediately upon Kingsley's orders. One or two of them might've even turned her into the Minister themselves if she violated their demands. She rolled her eyes, grateful that Fenrir was very different from all of the other men.
All of her years of over-writing her school essays came in handy. Once she started writing her report, Hermione found it difficult to stop. Even with a tiny fraction of the evidence reviewed, she knew the report was compelling. She mentioned the blackmail, all of the children threatened. Though it nearly made her throw up, she spared no disgusting detail about the children the Ministry kidnapped from around the world to conduct their experiments. The nationalities of the murdered children were recorded in the notes. She made certain that the leader of each of those countries would have their own copy.
Much of the report she dedicated to discussing 'Operation Moonlight's' greatest achievement: Fenrir Greyback. It pained her to read what he was subjected to, but it was imperative that the world know he wasn't a monster of his own making. He'd been designed with deadly precision. She hoped he wouldn't be too upset with her for sharing such personal information. She had to do whatever she could to at least try to exonerate his name. He was still spoken about in whispers ten years after he was believed to be dead. It wasn't right. Leaving out his legal name and any clue that might connect him to his real family, she explained in great detail how he'd volunteered for the program expecting he would be helping to find a cure. She wanted everyone who read the report to know how altered he'd been by the bastards in charge.
She understood how fantastical the entire program sounded. If she didn't have the evidence herself, she likely wouldn't have believed it as possible. Truth was indeed stranger than fiction. She desperately hoped that those who received the parcels would actually read them and understand just what it was they held in their hands. If the Ministry could exploit, abuse, and even kill some of the most vulnerable people they were supposed to take care of, what was stopping them from doing the same to everyone else? Yesterday it might have been the werewolves, but who could really say who it might be tomorrow? The corruption and rot had to be exposed and cut out if there was any hope for the future.
The promise of night seemed to arrive earlier and earlier. As comforting as it normally was snuggled up with Fenrir in his warm, cozy house, night had a more sinister connotation with the fullness of the moon. It was easy to forget what he would be forced to endure that night. Until he reminded her that morning, she hadn't been keeping a close watch of the lunar cycle. That was bound to change if she wanted to continue a relationship with Fenrir and she was sure she'd never wanted something so badly in her entire life.
When he came back in from his greenhouse at the end of the day to prepare, Fenrir pulled her out of the chair she was sitting in to hold her tightly and kiss her firmly. If his overly affectionate and amorous mood was normal, Hermione was sure she would start to selfishly look forward to those days each month.
"I would take you into the bedroom again right now, but I'm afraid food is more important this time."
"Of course it is. You need to keep your strength up tonight. There is always tomorrow."
"I might only be up for holding your hand tomorrow, but the day after? I'll make what happened in the greenhouse seem like nothing more than inexperienced fumbling."
Her cheeks flamed at the promise. How that was even possible she didn't know, but she was going to look forward to finding out. No doubt their adventures in the greenhouse would go down in their personal history as one of the most debauched and delicious days of their relationship. Hermione was already thinking of new ideas. Maybe next time she would be the stern Herbology professor.
They shared a simple, but hearty meal together. The times they sat across the table from each other were quickly becoming the highlight of her day. She knew she could get used to living there permanently. Even just the thought of moving back to her empty house to live alone filled her with a depressing dread.
When dinner was over, Hermione kissed Fenrir again and offered to clean the kitchen by herself. She could tell he was already starting to get antsy. It was the least she could do and she hoped the mundane domestic task could calm some of her own nerves. Though she understood full well that he'd been going through monthly transformations longer than she'd been alive and the Wolfsbane potion helped mitigate some of the more painful aspects, she was still worried. Would she ever get used to the Full Moon?
Where he disappeared to in preparation she didn't have the first clue. All she knew was he promised he'd see her before he left the house entirely. Just as she banished the last of the clean dishes to their proper cupboards, she heard the front door open. Expecting to see Fenrir, she stepped out of the kitchen with a bright smile.
Robert stood just inside the front door with a nearly identical look of surprise on his face as Hermione's. Almost at once, however, his became one of weary frustration. He sighed.
"I should've known."
She didn't understand why the man was so bothered by her appearance. While some of Fenrir's explanation about him being embarrassed by his financial troubles and offended by her accidental implication he was trying to steal from her made sense, she worried there was still more she didn't understand. Every bit as annoyed with him, she didn't even try to hide the bite in her tone.
"You should've known what, Robert?"
"That you would be hiding here. I don't know all of what's going on, but you've left quite a mess behind at the Ministry for the rest of us to deal with. I can't tell you how many people have come to our office demanding to know where you are. Investigators have torn our desks apart, looked in every nook and cranny they could find. They confiscated every single 'Operation Moonlight' carton Thicknesse gave you. I'm nearly certain my flat is under surveillance. I've been considering going into hiding myself. What is happening, Hermione?"
Either Robert was an excellent actor or he was scared out of his mind. Her instincts told her it was the latter. She wasn't sure anyone could be so convincing without their fear being genuine. The guilt that she'd put another person in serious danger weighed heavily on her conscience. If she'd known how dangerous 'Operation Moonlight' would turn out to be, she would've kept him far away from it. He was another reason she needed to get the parcels out as soon as possible.
"Robert, I…"
She was interrupted by the front door opening once again. A tall, elegant woman with beautiful silver hair hanging down to her waist stepped inside carrying a small, smoking cauldron. Hermione was certain she'd never met the woman, but she knew she could only be Chiara Lobosca. Fenrir's description of her being "attractive" was a gross understatement. Perhaps in her late thirties, though it was often difficult to assume based on magical genes and the added complication of being a werewolf, Chiara's skin was flawless beyond the tiniest of worry lines near her chilly blue eyes. It was easy to see why Fenrir desired her.
"You a new one?"
Robert answered Chiara's question before Hermione could.
"New werewolf? No. New girlfriend for Fen? Yes. Chiara, this is…"
"Hermione Granger."
Chiara hadn't really taken a good look at Hermione until Robert mentioned she was Fenrir's girlfriend. The shock of recognition was clear in her eyes. Her intense gaze and the cold voice she used to say Hermione's name made Hermione very uncomfortable. She didn't care for how Chiara stared or how she seemed to be having a silent conversation with Robert when her eyes would flick away from Hermione's every few seconds.
Fenrir's appearance broke the awkward spell. Rarely had Hermione been so glad to see him exit his greenhouse. Immediately Chiara removed three glasses from the pocket of her robes. Setting them down on a small side table, she was able to fill them all from the cauldron without spilling a drop.
"The others have already had theirs outside."
Used to the process, Robert and Fenrir picked up a glass. They each tried to swallow the foul potion in a single swallow. Based on their grimaces, it seemed the taste was not one they'd gotten used to. Seeing a glass remaining, Fenrir pointed to it.
"Are you not drinking it, Chiara?"
"I've already had mine with the others but Mr. Never-Been-On-Time-A-Day-In-His-Life is living up to his name."
Fenrir started to look nervous when he pulled back the drapes on one of the windows to view the darkening sky. Hermione didn't miss how he kept looking in her direction.
"Maybe we should take it outside. If he's much later…"
"She's going to be fine if she stays inside no matter what. Rob and I helped you ward this house. It's safe. He can't come inside after he transforms. None of us can."
Both Robert and Chiara went outside, leaving them alone again. Hermione felt a little relieved no longer being under the witch's intense gaze. She didn't expect to become Chiara's friend any time soon, if ever.
"We've all had our Wolfsbane, but please promise you will stay inside tonight."
"I promise. I have plenty to keep myself occupied."
"Good. I trapped our wee beastie in the greenhouse. He wasn't happy about it, but he's safer in there. He's not as young and spry as he thinks he is."
It meant everything to Hermione that he would even bother to worry about Crookshanks. No one else ever did. She also had to smile and lean up to kiss him when she thought about how he said 'our wee beastie' instead of 'your'. Not even his worry that he was running out of time could keep him from returning and deepening the kiss. His groan at the sound of the door opening brought them back to reality.
"'Bout bloody time, Crump."
Silas Crump's grey eyes went wide when he realized Hermione was the woman Fenrir was kissing. She tried to offer him a welcoming smile, but the way that he kept staring at her was nothing less than unnerving. If she didn't know the werewolf any better, she would've sworn he was frightened of her. The thought was almost laughable. Extremely untrusting and anti-Ministry, they'd had many encounters over the years she'd been working for the benefit of werewolves. Even if he hated the Ministry, there had always been a kindness for her, if nothing else. Never had she seen him worried or disconcerted in her presence. Was he just that startled to see her in an embrace with Fenrir?
If Fenrir noticed something was off about Silas, he didn't say so. His frustration at the other's tardiness, however, was apparent. Silas didn't fear Fenrir's heated explanations why he should be more careful. As he gulped his Wolfsbane potion, his wide, unblinking eyes never left Hermione. She didn't know what to think. A fairly unremarkable man who worked hard to remain so, Silas had light brown hair streaked with silver. Not deliberately done, as Hermione was certain Chiara's was, he just didn't seem to be the type to bother covering up or hiding the fact he was getting older. Only his grey eyes were noticeable.
"It's nearly time, Crump. We need to get outside now."
Fenrir's protective streak was showing. It was only when Fenrir threatened to push him outside that Silas even dared move towards the door. His movements were slow, labored. Was the man sick? She'd never noticed him struggle to walk before. He wasn't that old, likely not even yet forty.
"Crump, move."
Silas froze at the front door. With his eyes still focused on Hermione, he lifted a shaking hand to his neck. Unsure what he was doing but unable to look away, Hermione watched him struggle with the collar of his robes. About to run out of patience, Fenrir pushed the man's back. A gold chain fell to the wood floor with a heavy thunk.
Hermione didn't even think twice about picking up the chain. Damn either her curiosity or the polite, helpful manners her mother tried to instill in her, she wanted to see it for herself. Silas' chain and the remarkable carved gold pendant at the end was both fascinating and beautiful. Cold to the touch, she couldn't imagine how much it was worth or where he'd found it. With his rumored reputation of being little more than a petty thief, she doubted it came from legitimate means.
"Don't leave your stolen merchandise around my house, Crump. The last thing I need is the Ministry sniffing around."
Fenrir grabbed the gold necklace out of Hermione's hand to forcibly place it around Silas' neck. The expression of utter defeat on his face made her want to cry even though she didn't understand what was going on.
"I'm sorry."
Hermione nearly missed Silas' whispered apology. The first words he'd spoken since he arrived, Fenrir did miss them. He was too busy pushing Silas out of his house to know he'd said anything. There wasn't time to ask him what he meant before the door slammed shut. Remembering her promise to Fenrir that she wouldn't leave the house, she would have to wait for morning and hope she could find him to ask.
The howling began only a quarter of an hour after the two men left. With over ten werewolves on the same property, the effect was chilling. Hermione trusted Fenrir when he promised her no transformed werewolf could get inside the house and she was comforted by knowing they'd all had Wolfsbane potion, but she couldn't deny it was still scary to be so close to so many werewolves.
To keep her mind occupied, Hermione returned to working on her report. Nearly complete, she didn't need much more time. Explaining within both the report and the teaser summary that there was still a great deal of evidence that hadn't been reviewed helped. It would take months to sort it all and read it herself. As much as she wanted to ignore the possibility, she knew she might not have the time. Lyall was dead. She would be next. Maybe even quite soon.
Shortly after midnight she was done. Satisfied with both her report and the summary, she was ready to start compiling all of the parcels and getting them to their intended recipients. There was no reason to wait to finish in the morning. She knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep that night. Maybe she would eventually get used to being near the werewolves that she could sleep during a Full Moon.
Imagining a future with Fenrir Greyback made her smile. Was it completely insane to think that such a thing was possible? What would the old Hermione, the one who didn't know him beyond being a monster, think? What would her friends think? She would worry about whether or not they would accept her relationship with him later. After the truth about what was done to him was revealed, she didn't see how anyone couldn't accept them. He deserved a second chance. He was owed at least that much.
A loud crash at the front door startled her out of her thoughts. She jumped to her feet in horror. Where the front door had been just moments earlier, there was a hole. It had been completely torn off its hinges. In the hole stood a werewolf with light brown fur streaked with silver. Its striking grey eyes held Hermione in its unblinking gaze.
Silas bared his teeth and growled. In her survival instinct to run away, Hermione nearly toppled backwards over the table in front of the sofa she had her report laid out on. Every cell in her body shouted at her that she was in danger even as she tried to convince herself she was all right. The wards would keep him out. He could stand outside and growl all he wanted, but there was nowhere safer for her to be.
Her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest. Unable to look away from his grey eyes, she knew the exact moment the wards failed.
He stepped inside. She screamed.