Author's Note: Wow, I really was surprised by the wonderful encouragement from last chapter. Thank you so much for everyone who took the time to share a few kind words. It really lets me know to prioritize getting the next chapter ready for reading!

Chapter 16

The Past
Hermione only had a fraction of a second to dodge Fenrir's punch, the attack only brushing through her hair as she evaded in a side step.
"You need to be quicker," Fenrir said calmly and came at her again before Hermione had a chance to fully regain her fighting stance. Despite his agility, Hermione knew the other werewolf wasn't utilizing his full abilities. She had been by his side for the past six months and seen what he could do to an actual opponent. He was lethal.

Six months, six moons, had gone by since their first weeks as prisoners of the centaurs. Six times Hermione had stomached the arena, surviving each bloody fight with what felt like a little less humanity in tact.

She would scrub and scrub the blood of her opponent's from her skin in hurried panic until Fenrir would manage to calm her. Hermione had lost track of how many times she had cried herself to sleep in the slow months of their imprisonment but somehow Fenrir made it better just by being near.

Fenrir, to his credit, had done his best to keep her occupied. That was how they had started their daily training together. This did not go unappreciated by Hermione in the least who prior to learning from Fenrir had never known how to fight up close and personal. With the absence of books and outside company, honing her body's abilities gave her something to do. The witch had always relied on the use of magic but without a wand to defend herself Hermione was thankful for the new set of skills even if she wished she would not ever need to use them.

Their ability to spar together was only made possible by the fact that the centaurs had grown lazy over the months of their captivity. They no longer bothered with the chains unless transporting Hermione and Fenrir to the arena and rarely kept a guard posted at their door anymore. They have become complacent with their pet werewolves, Fenrir had remarked to Hermione recently. She had seen the gears in his mind turning ever since. They both knew that it likely wouldn't be too much longer before their opportunity to escape presented itself. She was eager to leave behind her prison cell but Hermione had also learned the valuable lesson of patience.

Hermione fumbled backwards as she retreated from his grasp, falling over in an ungraceful thud. She cursed under her breath as she wiped the sweat from her brow. Fenrir extended a hand to help Hermione up and hoisted her back to her feet without any effort.

"You are thinking too much about it," Fenrir said.

"I'm thinking about how not to get hit," Hermione countered.

"Exactly, don't do that," he said with a chuckle. "I have already taught you the techniques so let the wolf take over. You have more speed and power than you think if you just trust your instincts."

"Okay," Hermione said with a nod of determination. Her brow furrowed and Fenrir smiled inwardly. He secretly enjoyed Hermione's tenacity and the way her eyes lit up when she became focused on a task. She stood in a defensive stance, ready to fight.

He didn't wait and came at her again only this time Hermione didn't evade. She moved into his attack and stole his momentum, taking his arm and twisting it behind his back. To his surprise, Hermione brought him to his knees with a forceful kick behind his knees. The unexpected counter left him facing away and buckled to the ground.

"I win," Hermione said, unable to mask her triumph.

Her advantage only lasted for a brief moment though. Fenrir only needed to hunch forward suddenly to throw Hermione off her feet and into his back. With one massive arm he swung her around.

"Oof," Hermione huffed as she landed on her back, staring up at a grinning Fenrir.

"Good follow through, but try not to gloat until you're really sure you've won next time," Fenrir said with amusement and Hermione couldn't help but smile back. He was leaning forward with his face only a few inches from Hermione's own. The intimacy wasn't wasted on the witch, her heart racing both from the exertion of their spar and his sudden proximity. It felt right. At some point in their hellish ordeal Hermione had begun to see Fenrir not simply as a fellow victim of circumstance but someone she genuinely cared about.

She wasn't sure who initiated the kiss, only that Fenrir's lips on her own felt both electric and intoxicating. Fenrir drew her closer into his lap as their embrace deepened.

Everything about the moment felt natural to Hermione as she traced her hands up his chest and touched the scars there like a familiar map. His hands were entangled in her hair, pulling her close in each intense kiss.

But their private moment was abruptly shattered by the rattle of the prison door. Fenrir growled in annoyance with Hermione echoing a similar sentiment as they pulled themselves apart from one another.

Thankfully the intruding centaur had only come to drop off their evening meal. The being was completely uninterested in the two werewolves and just as quickly as it had set the trays by the door was it gone from their sight.

After several long moments when they once again clearly alone Fenrir looked at Hermione with a devilish grin, "now where we again?"

Present Day

Artemis Home

Hermione woke with tears in her eyes. Again.

It happened more frequently than she cared to admit to herself. And it was never clear what had made her cry in her sleep but Hermione always felt left with the lingering sensation of heartache. She couldn't remember the details of her dreams and it frustrated her nearly as much as the lost memories of her past. Her intuition told her the unrecallable dreams and stolen memories were related.

Something feels missing, Hermione thought which she knew was an understatement. Nearly all the important details of her life were missing. The young woman sighed and resigned herself to the residual sadness her dreams always left behind. She climbed out of bed and readied for the day.

No sooner had she left her room did she meet Aisling at the stairs. She could tell at once by the other werewolf's expression that something had happened. They had mutually agreed last night that it was probably for the best not to mention to Lupin the incident at the pub.

"Mr. Lupin sent me to come get you. He asked to speak to us immediately," Aisling said.

"Did he say why?"

"No but I think we can guess," she replied.

When they arrived at Lupin's office Killian and Tobey were already there trying hard not to look like a couple of pups that had just been caught getting into mischief. It turns out the metaphor wasn't too far from the truth.

"Good morning Miss Granger," he greeted and with a nod at the door beckoned Aisling to close it behind her. For a long moment no one spoke.

Lupin placed the morning edition of the Daily Prophet on the desk where the four young werewolves could see the headline for themselves:

IS HERMIONE GRANGER A WEREWOLF?

"Who would like to explain first?" Lupin asked, both his tone and expression were calm but Hermione could see the way his lips pursed slightly that he was trying to hold back his frustration.

No one spoke.

"They started it," Hermione said eventually with very little hint of remorse. "The man was loud, drunk and wanted to fight. I stopped him and that's all that happened."

"No, that isn't all that happened," Lupin said with a sigh. They had not only drew unnecessary attention to themselves, fought a wizard and been exposed as werewolves. "There were many witnesses that confirmed that your eyes were glowing. The whole world knows now that you have lycanthropy."

"So?" Hermione said.
Her impudence left Lupin momentarily speechless but he quickly recovered. "So? I don't think you understand the implications of…"

"I don't care who knows I am a werewolf," she said with an edge to her voice. "I am proud of what I am."

"That's not what I mean, Miss Granger," Lupin said, suddenly wishing that the other three werewolves were not present for this conversation. He had wanted to reprimand them for being careless and irresponsible but with Hermione present he was going to lose track of the conversation.

In the heat of the exchange he paused to momentarily appreciate that Hermione's grasp of language had been restored from what it had been only a month or so earlier. She was clearly sharper than ever.

"I know exactly what you mean," she asserted.

Lupin turned to Aisling, Killian and Tobey, "Could I ask you three to leave us for a moment?"

The trio were eager to slip out of the office, exhaling hard as they had been collectively holding their breaths. Outside the doorway Tobey remarked to the others: So we aren't in trouble then?

"I was trying to protect you. We all were. The world is cruel to those like us. Inside these walls it is easy to feel normal because everyone at Artemis Home bares the same burdens but out there is different. To the outside world we are lepers. And unfortunately they will never treat us as equals."

"Then we make them," Hermione said. "We can't stay in the shadows hating ourselves because it is convenient for the majority."

Her jaw was set with determination telling the older werewolf that the young woman's mind was completely made up. It reminded Lupin of when he was her professor so many long years ago. He had seen that expression countless times, whether it was in a classroom dispelling a Boggart or facing down a would-be foe. She was tenacious and stubborn, both admirable qualities in the right circumstances.

"Very well. That doesn't change the fact that you all made a scene," Lupin said, trying to direct the conversation back to its original purpose. He didn't want to delve into personal philosophies of what it meant to be a werewolf. "And you should probably know then that there is a large number of reporters currently stalking the front gate. They have been there all morning."

"Good," Hermione said and spun on her heels to leave.

Good? Lupin wondered as she left his office abruptly. A few minutes passed before he saw her from the office window marching purposefully across the lawn. Oh no.

Lupin followed after but it was too late. As he approached where Hermione was standing before the gates he heard her address the crowd.

"Hello," she said. "I am Hermione Granger and what you heard is true. I am a werewolf."

Knights of Walpurgis Gala

Present Day

Draco arrived at the castle while the gala was well underway. He had only accepted the last minute invitation under his mother's persistent nagging. Despite being in his twenties it annoyed him that she still had a way of getting him to do what she wanted as though he was a child refusing to eat his vegetables.

He vowed that he would not stay long as he climbed the entrance stairs. 45 minutes at the most, he promised himself.

Once inside Draco took a moment to acclimate to the buzz of excitement. The orchestra music filled the space as the large sea of partygoers moved about. Everyone was wearing their finest clothes and appearing carefree. He was envious of them because this had once been his world. All his life he had been groomed for the high society afforded to him by his pureblood pedigree but even standing in the throng of people dressed in the finest robes he felt like an outsider. The secret of his condition felt like an albatross across his neck.

Draco could not recall the last time he had attended such a function but felt at once uneasy surrounded by the sights and sounds of his environment.

"Draco! Darling how are you!" The wizard turned at the sound of his name recognizing at once the witch hastily moving towards him.

"Good evening Pansy," Draco replied with a ghost of a smile.

She stood on her tippy-toes and kissed his cheek. Pansy smelled of powdery perfume and alcohol. She fluttered her dark eyelashes at Draco and he thought to himself how little had changed about his Hogwarts sweetheart. The witch no longer sported her black hair in a posh bob but rather long tresses down her back but her features had not aged in the least since they had last seen each other.

"It's been too long! I've missed you," she drawled. "What have you been up to?"

"Just a bit of travelling and taking care of my family's affairs," Draco said and forced himself to return the courtesy of conversation. "And what about you? What is Miss Pansy Parkinson up to these days?"

"You mean soon to be Miss Pansy Warrington," she said with a giggle and pushed her hand a little too close to his face. Shimmering on her finger was an obnoxiously large diamond ring.

Draco mustered a congratulatory smile, "That's wonderful Pans, congratulations."

"It is marvelous isn't it?" Pansy preened, examining the ring under the chandelier light as though she was seeing it for the first time. "Cassius spent a fortune on it."

"That's nice," Draco said. He had already mentally vacated the conversation, his eyes wandering across the crowd for particular familiar face. He sensed her. Even among all the chaos of the guests, he knew she was here and somehow that alone stole the breath from his lunges.

"Excuse me, Pansy but there is something I need to do," he said and did not even look back as he wandered off. Draco followed where his intuition guided him, feeling the pull of her presence and convincing himself that seeing her would be enough.

She doesn't even need to know I'm here.

But seeing her wasn't enough because as Astoria came into his line of vision he suddenly longed for so much more than his circumstance allowed. Her blonde hair was tucked behind her ears in barrel curls and adorned with a velvet green fascinator. She was a vision of beauty in her emerald gown.

Green was always your color, he thought as he watched her from afar. It pained him to know what he had lost but he could not look away.

Suddenly she turned away from her conversation and for a moment their eyes caught. Briefly there was a look of confusion across her countenance before recognizing him. She smiled brightly but Draco saw pain there too. He wasn't surprised by the look. I hurt her too after all, he silently said.

But what did surprise him was that she excused herself and started to come his way. Draco thought he could lose her in the crowd but was stopped by her hand on his arm.

"Draco, please don't do that. We're adults, you don't need to run away," Astoria said and her voice drove a deeper ache in his heart.

"I wasn't running away my-" Draco caught himself from finishing the words. My love. The endearment nearly sprang from his lips against his accord. Collecting himself, he asked (and truly meant it when it came to Astoria). "How are you Astoria?"

"Well enough," she said with a smile and embraced him in a hug. Draco felt his heart hit his stomach feeling her so close to him. Even the wolf within him, the blasted creature, seemed to stir at her proximity. "I am happy you are here."

I've missed you, he wanted to reply but instead he simply said. "It's good to see you too."

Astoria could feel the rift between his words and the emotions hidden in his blue eyes but she said nothing on the subject. They both knew it was treacherous territory to navigate.

"Draco, my good man you made it!" Theodore yelled and Draco cringed inward.

"Evening Nott," he replied as the wizard threw an arm over his shoulder like they were old friends. Despite their history, Draco would have been reluctant to claim as much himself.

"And the sweet Miss Greengrass," Theodore greeted Astoria. She gave a polite curtsy and he kissed her hand.

"I came to steal her away for a dance if I'm not intruding?" Theodore asked. Draco nodded silently.

"I would love to," Astoria replied and gave a smile to Draco as she left.

"Stick around and have a drink. I have some exciting news to share soon," Theodore winked as he passed Draco and it made the werewolf's blood boil. There was something about that wizard that bothered him and Draco tried to convince himself it wasn't just because he was currently dancing with Astoria.