Warning: More brutality and death.
It had taken over an hour for Hermione to break, but she broke. It was inevitable. Flesh can only endure so much pain before it fails, human's anyway.
Part of her mind was still very much aware of the excruciating feeling of being set on fire, of being skinned alive, of having her limbs slowly torn out of their sockets. All of that, and more. The evil of the Cruciatus wasn't the fact that it hurt like nothing else in the world, but that it hurt like everything else. All the things Greyback and the other torturers could have done physically to her, all at once.
But between screaming so hard that her vocal cords had begun to bleed and sobbing nonsensical things in the brief seconds the Death Eaters gave her in between, Hermione had... well, retreated into herself. Despite the all-encompassing pain, she knew intellectually that she was close to psychosis and long-lasting mental damage. Not that it really mattered in their current situation, but the prospect of going insane before being killed like a rabid animal was in some ways a horror worse than the torture itself.
Hermione didn't know where she was right now, her memory of their arrival at Malfoy Manor was shoddy. She might be lying in the drawing room or down in the cellar, she had no idea. Only that there were people around her, the smell of rot and flesh and dark magic.
And Harry wasn't with her.
That alone would've caused her to fight back, to find a secluded spot somewhere within her formidable mind to formulate a plan, to hold on to something. Because she had to protect him. That thought was paramount and weighed more than her own survival, far more even than her sanity. So when her hour was up, when her muscles were torn and her organs failing, when her mind had begun to hallucinate her parents and Harry and other people, she... let go.
But she didn't let her torturers simply push her over the edge, instinctively she knew she had to fall down a particular path. Toward that silvery light she feared so much now, that pulled at her inner core like nothing else. She tried to project that light down into the abyss of pain and insanity she was falling into and hoped it would be enough. To find strength in the madness she'd been cursed with only a few months ago.
A new pain arose from within her very bones, and if Hermione still had the capacity to scream, she would have. But all her destroyed throat was capable of was a gurgle, a wounded sound of unimaginable suffering. And so Greyback and the Death Eaters were still laughing as she began to transform and grow, even though the full moon was ten days out.
Hermione's world turned red.
As did everyone else's around her.
Where the manor had smelled of old furniture and tainted magic before, it now smelled of fresh death. Blood, piss, and shit. Spilled innards, vomit.
Hermione pounced through the corridors, her mighty heartbeat like a pulse that revealed everything yet alive around her within the ancient walls. She should feel horrified by the taste in her mouth, the fibers of human tissue between her teeth, and the gore sticking to her claws.
But her inner wolf assured her it was okay, this wasn't wrong... it just... was.
She smelled the lone Death Eater before she saw him. Felt his breathing and the rush of his blood in his veins. One of the men who'd been with Greyback, who'd held her in the storm. A werewolf like her, with a scent of leather, milk, and sickly sweat. Her hunter's instinct took over as she jumped off the floor, parkoured between the wall and an old cabinet, destroying it in the process, and rounded the corner of the hallway before he'd even fully turned around.
His wand, however, had already been aimed in her direction, and Hermione felt the sharp pain of something magical hitting her abdomen. It made her stumble, if not enough to stop her assault, and it made her angrier.
He snarled at her and raised his wand to aim at her face, but Hermione just bit off his entire hand and jerked him around as he was screaming. He tried to push her away, but before he knew it, she had his twitching head between her jaws, and then she drank his blood and brains as his wand rolled over the floor.
Her other self roared at the ceiling in victory, and she felt a shift in her lower body as some of her flesh the wand's curse had burned away regrew with a wet sound that would have been sickening if she'd been in full control of her faculties.
Then she smelled Harry and stopped.
Her anger diminished instantly because that scent was friend, safety, and pack. Mate. He was close, and he was anxious, probably in pain. His scent came from somewhere near the entrance hall. Hermione didn't know exactly how she suddenly knew where that hall was in relation to herself, maybe her subconscious had picked up more clues than she was aware. But she knew exactly how to get there.
She also knew that the entrance hall meant danger because it was a meeting point, so there could be several Death Eaters there. Also Greyback, unless he'd fled the premises completely. Hermione heard herself chuckle with a deep, rough voice at the memory of how her claws had dug into his left cheek and ripped it off his face. His left eye had been delicious, but he'd literally thrown someone else into her before running away. Killing him would avenge Remus, herself, and countless others. All those children he'd bitten and who hadn't survived their first transformation.
After another growl, she made her way toward the hall, more silent now.
She smelled two Death Eaters when she peeked around a corner. No werewolves, just regular wizards who'd joined Voldemort's cause. They were guarding a door that would lead to the cellar, she was sure. There was a faint draft in the cool air, and... it smelled of sickness. And of Harry.
Hermione waited until both men looked away from her, then she pounced again.
"What...?" the left Death Eater managed to say before she was upon them. Mid-flight, she'd realized that she would not only crash into the men but also the door behind them, but that might actually be in her favor. She quickly lowered her head at the last moment as her outstretched arms pulled the surprised men into a deadly grasp, and then all three of them exploded through the door and tumbled down into the cool cellar.
Hermione felt the bones of the Death Eater she was pressing into her right break as they all bounced painfully off of the stone staircase, neck and all. She immediately let go of the corpse and managed to grab the railing with her now-freed hand, stopping the fall. The guy she'd been holding to her left slipped through her grasp, though.
The cellar was a long, square room, dimly lit by a few magical lights. Several doors lead to other rooms, but there were also cells to her immediate left. Actual prison cells, with iron bars and chains on the walls.
There were people, huddled in the shadows. Some were asleep or unconscious, others standing. She could hear their heartbeats, smell their sweat, and fear. The scent of human waste was almost overpowering, and she felt her eyes water as her frantic mind tried to sort through the avalanche of impressions and identify Harry.
"Avada Kedavra!"
She barely dodged the Unforgivable cast by the Death Eater, who was aiming at her from a stance she recognized as similar to what Tonks or Moody looked like when they fought. Maybe a corrupt auror then, or at least someone with a bit of actual training.
Hermione felt the wolf rise to the challenge in anger.
She bared her massive teeth and roared at the man, feeling the echo reverberate within the cellar, causing the prisoners' heartbeats to quicken.
"You are such an ugly thing," the Death Eater spat as he fired two other curses at her, non-verbal this time. "I think I'll just put you down." She felt one graze her shoulder and pain spread underneath her fur, but it wasn't debilitating.
Not even close.
Feinting an attack from the left, Hermione turned mid-motion and leaped right into the man's personal space as he slowly retreated back from the stairs she'd been crouched on.
"Fuck you!" he yelled, but it was the last time he'd use his voice because she blocked is wand hand so hard his arm broke and then bit his throat to rip out the larynx. Swallowing it, she pushed the dying Death Eater aside and growled as she surveilled her surroundings.
She was alone with the prisoners.
And with Harry.
His scent was strong now, and she tried to focus on it, use it to anchor herself, and let the blood rush fade away, even if only a little bit.
"Hermione." It wasn't his normal voice, and it wasn't a question, but it was him.
She whipped around to his cell and inhaled deeply as his silhouette grew clearer in her mostly black-and-white vision. He looked bruised and disheveled, signs of physical abuse all over his body. But he was as hale as one could hope for and he was standing upright. With two wide steps, Hermione was in front of his cell, her nose lowered between the bars to smell him and see that he really was all right. She noticed blood on him, his own blood. But it didn't excite her inner wolf, it made it anxious.
"Harry, you fool! Go away from it, it'll rip you apart!"
A raspy voice from one of the neighboring cells. Hermione saw an old man she didn't recognize, his beard dirty and his once expensive robe barely more than tatters.
"No, she won't, Nick." Harry coughed and continued to stare at her. "This is the most important person in my life, and she won't harm me."
The old man appeared panicked. "That's a werewolf!"
"You say that as if it invalidated what I just said," Harry chuckled and winced. He noticed Hermione's anxiety and slowly shook his head. "It's not so bad, really, Hermione. Just my ribs acting up again."
He put out his hand and carefully touched her bloody snout. She didn't feel the urge to bite him because he was pack, and mate. No, she wanted to step away from him because she knew she was covered in gore and not fit for human companionship. But she was ruled by instinct at the moment and just couldn't deny Harry's intense pull on her. So she just leaned into his touch, and turned her head sideways as he ran his fingers through her soiled fur.
"This is so weird. I never saw her in her werewolf form," a young female voice said. It was a blonde girl that reminded Hermione of Daphne Greengrass, and it took her a moment to realize that it was indeed her sister Daphne.
"Well, it's not something you just show anyone," Harry explained. He sighed. "Hermione, I know you took care of those assholes that guarded the cellar, but can you... I don't know, break us out of here?" He nodded to the bars that separated them. "Because sooner or later Voldemort will return here to see what's up."
She growled and removed her head from under his hands.
Looking up and down the cells, she took in the ancient iron bars and how they were magically reinforced. Against muggles and wizards without a wand, that is.
She grabbed the frame of Harry's door and breathed in as she lowered herself slightly. As it turned out, she needn't have worried because she broke it off its hinges with relative ease, feeling the ward spelled into the old iron fizzle out with a high-pitched wine.
"Wow," Astoria whispered.
"Yup." Harry stepped through the opening, keeping eye contact with Hermione. His scent told her that he wasn't afraid of her at all, his heartbeat steady. But he moved carefully and deliberately to not provoke her hunter's instincts unnecessarily. She lowered her head to stare into his bright green eyes. Her throat was making a noise somewhere between a canine whine and a bark, and he smiled. "We'll have to work on this kind of communication, I'm afraid. Are you all right?"
Hermione nodded once, grinning at him with her blood-smeared snout.
"I see."
"Harry, what is the matter with you? Stop playing around with that animal and get us out of here!" The old man sounded angry.
She growled at the interruption and stepped toward the man's cell, only to see him flinch away and back away to the wall on the other side. Hermione chuckled again in that deep werewolf voice.
"Stop antagonizing her, Nick. Your elixir won't help you if she decides to use your head as a pitcher." Harry walked toward a table on the other side of the cellar, where some clothes and wands were lying spread out. "Oh, by the way, Hermione. Meet Nicolas Flamel, immortal alchemist extraordinaire and also a huge pain in the arse."
Hermione jerked around to look at the old man, who stared back at her with widened eyes.
Astoria giggled. "Language, Harry."
Hermione's wolf decided that it liked the blonde girl, and she ripped out her cell door with little fanfare while she was still fixated on the alchemist. She huffed at Astoria, pointing toward Harry with her snout.
The Slytherin blanched slightly but swallowed her fear as well as she could. "Thank you, Hermione," she whispered.
"What about me then?" Flamel's indignant voice was grating her nerves, and she growled again, louder this time.
Harry, now in possession of his own wand again, walked back with a frown. "Stop whining, Nick, of course, we'll let you out." Then he actually smirked, and it looked strange between his bruises. "But first you need to apologize to Hermione."
"What?"
She felt such a surge of affection for him as he came up to her that she couldn't help herself and lowered her head to lick his head and ear with her long tongue.
To his credit, Harry didn't wince. He raised an eyebrow though as he looked up at her with a slight grimace. "I appreciate the gesture, but... that is really disgusting, Hermione. You just ate someone's face."
Astoria returned with her own wand. "Actually, it was just his throat." When everyone stared at her, the girl shrugged. "What?"
When she woke up, Hermione knew instantly that she wasn't anywhere familiar.
The air was dusty and the bed, while not really uncomfortable, was stuffy. When she opened her eyes, she knew to be in a rarely used room.
Then she noticed the heartbeat and a particular scent of chalk, starch, and... cat?
"Professor McGonagall?"
Her Head of House was in fact sitting beside her bed. "Good morning, Miss Granger."
"Wha... where am I?"
"You're at my house, in one of my guest rooms."
Hermione looked around and saw that her nonvisual senses had been right. But McGonagall didn't strike her as someone entertaining a lot of guests, so...
"Why am I here, Professor?" She noticed that the older woman didn't sit comfortably and that her skin looked pale and clammy. "Are you all right?"
In return, McGonagall gave her one of her rare smiles. "That is so like you, Miss Granger, to inquire after my health when it was you who was dragged here bloody and unconscious."
Hermione stopped herself and stared at the professor... Malfoy Mansion! It all came back to her in a rush.
"Where is Harry?"
"He is fine, Miss Granger. You'll see him soon enough. But first, how are you feeling? From what I understand, you had quite the ordeal before Albus brought you and Mister Potter here?"
She nodded. "We were caught, in a thunderstorm. I don't know how, but Greyback tracked us. In Malfoy Manor they... didn't waste time." She tried to suppress a tremor in her right arm. It felt like an echo of the Cruciatus, which it probably was. She'd read that experiencing the Unforgivable for too long could destroy a person's nervous system.
"I am so sorry, Miss Granger. I can't imagine what you must have experienced in that house." McGonagall looked upset. "Can I bring you anything? Are you in pain?"
"It's okay, for now at least. I think I need to, well, feel myself for a moment before I know what I need if that makes sense?" Hermione moved her limbs and tried to feel the sensory input her body sent back. Part of her still remembered how it felt to be a werewolf and an unusually large one at that. Her joints felt abused, as did her back. She'd shifted without a full moon!
"I believe I know what you mean, Miss Granger. I might only be an Animagus but this ability comes with its own set of challenges." Her professor stood up, trying to hide a wince. It appeared the wounds she'd received in Hogsmeade were still bothering her.
"Would you mind if... "
A satisfactory gleam appeared in the older woman's eyes. "Of course, I'll send Mister Potter right up, alongside another guest of mine who wants to talk to the both of you urgently."
Hermione thought she knew who that might be. "The Headmaster is still here?"
"Oh no, he will be back later. Why, it's Professor Slughorn."
"Harry, where are you..."
The oppressive weather was grating Hermione's nerves.
For hours now, thunder had been rolling across the overcast skies, but no lightning or rain came. The air, although cold, smelled of ozone and felt like something was building and building... without any release.
Her hair was almost crackling in the static air.
As she was pacing around the tent they'd set up yesterday, she deeply inhaled yet again in the hopes of picking up anything. But she knew full well that the spot they'd chosen was far away from civilization, be it Muggles or wizardkind.
The only things Hermione smelled were damp earth, trees and undergrowth, and the looming thunderstorm. Well, that and the tent.
Who knew that Professor Slughorn had been a fan of incense during his hiking days? But, upon reflection, it could've been worse. She really didn't want to imagine what a tent borrowed from Professor Snape smelled like if she were to compare the two Potion teachers.
"Come on, Harry..."
She didn't have a clock with her, but she was sure he was long overdue. Something must've happened, someone had messed up, and now he was in the Ministry's tender care or, worse, back in some Death Eater prison.
Hermione readjusted the grip on her wand and tried to stop herself from apparating to London to follow him. And kick someone's butt.
Her inner wolf was snarling at being so helpless in the face of her being separated from him yet again.
A sudden, sharp pain made Hermione's left arm twitch, and she winced as she stopped pacing. Another aftereffect of her torture. She'd been twitching real bad the last two nights as she'd clung to Harry for comfort. He'd not complained once but tried his best to help her relax.
Nothing had happened, but it'd been nice nonetheless.
"Dammit, Harry, please come back." Massaging her arm, Hermione continued pacing, cursing lowly in the absence of anyone to keep proper appearances up for.
When she finally heard the familiar pop of an apparition, she whirled around and raised her wand.
Harry was standing two dozen paces away, and he looked bad, streaked with grime and blood, and his glasses were askew. He was favoring his right leg as he began walking. His scent spoke to her of battle, and of dark spells.
All Hermione wanted was to run up to him, but she remained steadfast and remembered the security measures Tonks had drilled into them only two weeks ago.
"Hold it right there!"
Harry stopped, looking at her with a neutral expression. His wand was at the ready, but not pointed in her direction. She noticed that his heartbeat was slowing down, so he'd probably apparated directly out of harm's way.
"What... what was the secret you told me in my room when I... felt so bad?"
"That I'd given up hope on me and Sirius living together."
She sighed and walked up to him, suppressing the urge to run. When they stood directly in front of each other, she looked him over. "What happened, Harry? Is everyone okay?"
"No." He swallowed dryly and put his wand away. "We managed to burn the Horcrux, but someone must've kept eyes on Grimmauld Place because not five minutes after we returned, they attacked."
"Voldemort?"
Harry nodded. "Not him personally, but Bellatrix was there."
She put a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat. "And then?"
He shook his head. "Dumbledore held most of them off, but it was a lost cause because they also came through the roof. Hestia..." He closed his eyes. "Hestia didn't make it, and Remus was hurt badly."
"Oh, Harry." She embraced him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
There was something about him that put her on edge, something dark. Probably just his proximity to Bellatrix's dark curses.
"Wouldn't have mattered, there were dozens of them, Hermione." His breath hitched for a moment. "I just..."
"It's not your fault, Harry."
"I know, but..."
"Do you?" She pulled him closer, not caring about the grime. "I think I know what you feel right now."
"It's... why... Remus just began teaching you, and then that thing he has with Tonks. They can't bring him to St. Mungo's, so it's up in the air if he'll get better."
"Harry."
"Every time I think we finally have something, some way to actually win, it... it all falls apart."
Hermione stopped hugging him and looked into his eyes. "You still have me."
His lopsided smile, even though it was subdued for obvious reasons, was like a ray of sunshine. "Well, thank Merlin for that."
Inspecting him further, she sighed again. "I wish I'd been there. We never should've split up."
"I know you transformed without the full moon, but do you really want to force yourself to do that again? It might require large amounts of pain for all we know." He took a deep breath. "I'd rather you do it just when you absolutely have to."
She didn't answer because she knew he was right.
Something had changed in that cursed mansion, something within her. Not only had she transformed without the full moon, but she'd also been taller as well, stronger. It was too valuable a discovery to let it just slide.
For a while anyway, because the next full moon was almost upon them. Her blood was already beginning to call to her at night.
But first things first.
"Let's go clean you up. I can still sort of feel the Horcrux on you."
"Yeah, please don't remind me. Holding that damn thing just felt so... vile."
"You go ahead, I'll be right behind you." While Harry went inside the luxurious tent, Hermione did another round and re-cast several wards and protection spells.
None of them needed to be replaced, but she needed to occupy her mind. Knowing that Remus would never come back hurt, but it didn't make her cry. Was that bad? Did that make her callous? Hermione wasn't sure. The anxiety about being on the run didn't help, and neither did the lack of clues for the other Horcruxes.
Then there was Harry. Ever since he'd confessed to loving her, which Hermione's mind insisted wasn't the same as saying that he was in love with her, things had been... intense.
But nothing happened.
Was that good? Probably, considering their situation. Then again, when they weren't in some sort of dangerous situation? Sarcasm aside, Hermione did have problems remembering the last time when going to Hogwarts had been... well, peaceful.
And now they were alone, out here in the Forest of Dean.
Harry and her.
And she'd never replied to his confession back in her room. She'd just cried into his shirt and let him hold her close, as he did so often nowadays.
As she juggled all of that in her mind, Hermione entered the tent without really paying attention to her surroundings. She was aware that he was around her somewhere, and that a kettle was boiling in the kitchen, but that was nothing but background noise.
Until she pretty much bumped into Harry coming out of the bathroom stall all wet underneath his towel.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry!" she rambled. "I didn't see you."
"No worries." He gave her another lopsided smile and proceeded toward his bunk, but something in Hermione made her stop him, and she grabbed his hand.
"Harry, wait."
"Huh?" He turned back, looking at their hands first and then at her. She saw something in his face, some kind of shift. A careful mask, that thing he put on when he didn't want the people around him to notice when he was upset or hurt.
"I... I need to tell you something." Her own heart was beating faster now, and Hermione felt her senses growing sharper as adrenaline rushed through her veins.
"What? Did something happen while I was away?"
"No. Yes. That's not... listen." She stepped closer and the scent of his shampoo washed over her. It was a huge step up from the Hospital Wing's weird soap.
Hermione closed her eyes and tried to focus. "I... never gave you an answer."
"To what?"
"When you told me, in my room." She looked at him again. His mask was good, but she wasn't fooled. His irises widened and there was a slight rush of blood in his cheeks. "Oh, that."
"Yes, Harry, that."
He lowered his gaze to the floor. "I didn't expect anything in return, you know? You don't have to..."
She stopped him by putting a finger to his lips and shivered as she felt his body heat on her skin. "But I want to, Harry", she whispered.
His eyes grew even bigger, and suddenly Hermione realized that he was still wet and pretty much naked.
But he didn't flinch from her touch, he never did.
Friend.
Safety.
Pack.
Mate.
Letting her wolf out ever so slightly to just shut up the rambling part of her brain, Hermione removed her fingers from his face. "Because my secret, if you want to hear it, is that I love you too, Harry." She leaned in and touched his lips with hers, just a slight brush.
Her anxieties tried to run away with her but her wolf wanted this so bad and for once, she didn't mind at all to give in. She held on to Harry's shoulders and kissed him in earnest. After just a second of hesitation, Harry responded.
Hermione felt a rush as he passionately embraced her and opened his lips to hers. One of his hands was holding her back, the other one caressed her hair and cheek. "Hermione..."
She broke the kiss. "I want you, Harry. I don't care about the danger, the Death Eaters, and the world. I just want you to be safe, and here, with me."
His breath ghosted across her face as he smiled at her whispered confession. "I love you."
"Show me."
She almost yelped when he lifted her off her feet.
"Does it hurt? Like... what's it called again? Phantom pains?"
"No. At least, not when I'm like right now."
Harry's brows furrowed. "And when you're transformed?"
"It.. itches. The wolf knows something's missing but there's no pain and that confuses it."
He seemed to think about that. "But it doesn't bother you right now?"
"No."
"Good." He kissed the stub on her hand where her pinky had been until recently. He was as good at reading her as she was at reading him these days, though. "What is it?"
"It's nothing." She shook her head and snuggled into the blanket.
"Out with it, Missy."
Hermione took a deep breath. "I just feel... somewhat disfigured. Not by this, not this alone. But it adds up, you know?"
"How so?"
"Oh, come on, Harry." His eyes were piercing her now in irritation. He really didn't know what she was referring to, which made her love him even more. "My face? My entire body. I'm scarred for life. The lycanthropy. Our fight in the Department of Mysteries, and when we were ambushed by those three snatchers. Everything is leaving a mark on me. Or several."
"Be that as it may, you're still incredibly beautiful." His fingers brushed over her cheek, and her shoulder, running along some of the aforementioned scars. He didn't break eye contact, though, showing her that he knew her skin inside out. "Also, you're not half-bad at crossword puzzles."
"Prat." But Hermione smiled, he just was impossible. "I like this," she whispered.
He smiled, for real now. "Me too."
"But we have to get up soon. Sirius will be here in an hour."
"He really has the worst timing," Harry deadpanned as he moved closer and put his arm around her.
"You know how important it is. Maybe... Ron will be there as well." She closed her eyes as the scent of his body enveloped her and the strong heartbeat in his chest grew louder in her ear.
"Oh, that'll just be great. More accusations and yelling." Harry grunted.
"He tries. Give him a chance, Harry."
"Why should I? He pretty much abandoned you and I won't stand for it."
She hugged him tight. "But you're different from everyone else. You idiot locked yourself in with me during my transformation. Ron meanwhile has grown up with nothing but horror stories about werewolves. To him, it's more real in a way even I can probably hardly fathom."
"Is that a fancy way of saying he's just stuck in his ways and hasn't left Molly's shadow yet?" Harry'd begun running his fingers through her wild hair, and Hermione groaned ever so slightly under his ministrations.
"That's not nice," she mumbled.
"I don't care about being nice, Hermione. If five more people in the Order or at Hogwarts had taken after Moody instead of Dumbledore, maybe none of this would've happened."
They remained silent for a while, listening to the rain that was falling on the tent. Camping close to Scotland's west coast came with terrible weather this time of the year, but they didn't lack any creature comforts other than decent food. At least they wouldn't be found this time, Hermione'd made sure of that.
"Speaking of the Headmaster, did he get back to you about that money you gave him?"
Harry chuckled. "Not directly, but Sirius told me about it. For once, I have to say I'm impressed with Dumbledore. Apparently, he used it to bribe the editor at the Daily Prophet, and two members of the Wizengamot."
Hermione was fully awake once more as she processed his words. "Wait a moment... how? 1,000 Galleons might be a lot of money to us, but can you really buy a vote with a few hundred coins?"
"We'll see. Knowing him, he might've bribed someone else who owed yet another party a favor, and they in turn made good on a something they owed Dumbledore, or one of his allies."
She thought about that. Harry wasn't entirely wrong, the Headmaster had shown himself to be a master manipulator at times. Benevolent, yes, but not someone to be trusted at his word.
"What for, then?"
"Haven't the foggiest, to be honest."
Did it show fate's hand that tonight of all nights would be one with a full moon? What were the chances? Hermione knew that prophecies did exist, and had experienced that strange power being at work in Harry's life and also in hers by proxy.
Yet she didn't believe in fate.
Couldn't believe it. It was anathema to how she understood the world.
What she did believe in though was Voldemort being well-prepared and trying to maximize the utility value of his werewolves. At least those that were left now, she thought with some kind of grim satisfaction, reflecting upon her... episode at Malfoy Manor.
She would know the number soon enough.
"Is everything locked down?" Sebastian Hopton looked nervous as she joined him and the other prefects in the Grand Staircase.
Hermione nodded. "I put charms on all the classroom windows on this side of the floor. Unless there's a secret entry we don't know about"
"Good. Sue did the same on the eighth floor. The others are down on the fifth, trying to shut down that damn overgrown corridor."
She shook her head. "It might actually serve a purpose because it'll slow down anyone who tries to get through it. Unless they use something extreme such as Fiendfyre."
"Those damn Weasley twins." Justin was scowling. "That thing is a security breach, is what it is. The professors should've removed it years ago."
"Nothing we can do about now." Sebastian looked over their small group. "Let's go down to the Great Hall, I think we..."
A massive explosion interrupted him and rocked the castle.
Hermione didn't lose her footing and grabbed Justin as a large piece of the ceiling came crashing down on their landing.
It woke her inner wolf, though, and for a second she believed she would transform on the spot. But it wasn't time yet, and she tried to keep her other self under control.
Only for a little bit longer.
If she transformed right now, she might hurt some of her fellow students. Her wolf had been antsy for days now, it knew that battle was upon them. It wanted to rend flesh and tear limbs apart. To keep Harry safe.
Not yet.
"Fuck me! What was that?"
She huffed. "Voldemort's here."
"Is everyone all right?"
"We need to go!"
Grabbing each other, the prefects stumbled down the stairs. Another explosion made them stumble on the stairs as more debris rained down in the halls of Hogwarts.
"They'll be through the outer wards in no time!" Sebastian sounded panicked. "We need to find the Headmaster."
Hermione suspected that would lead them right into the thick of it, since Dumbledore wouldn't just stand idly by now that Voldemort had arrived in force.
"Go to the Great Hall, I'll find the Headmaster. I'll send word back to you!" she yelled as spellfire shook the castle once more. "Move!"
Then she let go of her self-control just a little bit and allowed the wolf inside her a foothold. Not that she'd much of a barrier to begin with, not without the Wolfsbane Potion. It was a dangerous move but she needed to get down now, fast. Her ideas from three minutes before had just been rendered null and void.
Hermione felt her arms and legs elongate and thicken slightly and very painfully, but she needed the increased physical strength and hand-eye coordination now.
Ignoring the astonished outcries of the others, she leaped over the staircase's railing and jumped down an entire floor. And again, and again. She felt powerful, strong. This was what she could do now. It was an ability bought with unbelievable amounts of pain, but it was hers now.
Landing in the Entrance Hall, Hermione saw fellow students being pulled into the Great Hall by their classmates.
The castle doors were open, and the dark evening sky was illuminated by the spells being thrown at Hogwart's ancient wards.
Voldemort was out there.
So was the Headmaster.
And Harry.
She began to run, and then to leap.
Note: This was supposed to be the final chapter, but it became way too long, and it broke the rhythm of alternating points of view between Harry and Hermione (because I switch between them mid-chapter in the end). The new fifth chapter will be the final one, though, promise :)