I'm freakin STOKED about Part 2 of DH coming out as I know you all are! GET EXCITED!

Warning: This chapter get a little violent.

Dusk gave way to darkness and then sunlight once more, as the hours dragged into days, and the days bled together until Hermione began to lose count of them. Autumn had wearily submitted to an early winter after a half-hearted struggle during the final weeks of November, and nights like tonight were the miserable result of it.

In the days following Nadine's guilt trip, Leo had begrudgingly given Hermione a stack of old quilts in addition to the sheet she usually slept with. And after a series of steep temperature drops overnight and much griping on Hermione's part, Leo had cast warming charms over the blankets. Now, despite her frozen nose, the combination of Leo's spells and the friendly rattle of the heating unit made her sleeping situation somewhat more bearable.

Hermione felt more secure in knowing that she had Nadine's sympathies, even if it was unlikely she'd visit again anytime soon (her opinion of the condition of Leo's flat was difficult to miss). She was just grateful to have some sort of a link to the 'outside world' that wasn't Leo, and that in itself had helped to initially sustain what was now, after a few fruitless weeks, her rapidly dwindling hope. Her spirits were only slightly lifted by the fact that she was starting to be able to bear some weight on her ankle, and had upgraded her mode of transportation from the 'bunny hop' to the 'twitchy limp.' Leo, in a rare show of humanity, had transfigured a drinking straw into a cane for her to use.

Stunned as she was by Nadine's generosity with the clothing situation, Hermione, of course, would pay her back eventually no matter what it took; she had never been comfortable with the idea of being in anyone's debt, monetarily or otherwise. But Nadine had proven that there were still some genuinely selfless and well-meaning people in the world, and that reassurance was priceless to Hermione, especially after several years of having been well acquainted with the darker side of human nature.

Leo had watched her unwrap the clothing with a sneer at her excitement, but she had refused to let him ruin that small bit of happiness for her. The garments were by no means designer (Hermione was glad that Nadine hadn't wasted her money on those kinds of things anyway, because she doubted she could fully appreciate them the way they were meant to be) but they were well-made and comfortable: soft, cable-knit sweaters, a few pairs of denim jeans, cotton blouses, thermal t-shirts, and several pairs of sweatpants and tank tops for sleeping in. A quick peek in one of the bags had her blushing at Leo, and she merely rummaged through the contents instead of pulling them out: boy-shorts and tanga style knickers (no G-strings, she was relieved to see) and bras to match. It seemed as if Nadine had greatly overestimated her bust size, but it was nothing that couldn't be resized with magic… unfortunately, she ended up having to ask Leo for that favor, which was understandably awkward.

A smaller bag had contained shampoo, conditioner (although she wouldn't at all have minded continuing to use Leo's Sleek-Eazy), toothpaste, a toothbrush, and feminine products, of which Hermione was especially grateful to Nadine for having thought about. She had been taking a special regulating potion akin to Muggle birth control, but obviously didn't have access to it anymore, and it was nice to be able to silence that small worry in the back of her head, considering that she already had quite enough on her plate to be anxious about.

Hermione had given up on sleep for the time being, having tossed and turned for the past hour. She had pulled the blinds long ago to block out the glow of streetlamp below the window, and figured she had either her nap from earlier or her wandering thoughts to blame for her insomnia.

In the darkness, she shivered and clutched the old quilt to her chin. The faint smell of dog was imbedded in its fibers and she wrinkled her nose, but the odor was quickly masked by the stale smell of burning dust that wafted through the flat, courtesy of the ancient heater.

For the umpteenth time since she was taken, she found herself wondering about her parents, and how much they had been told. Did they still think she was safely tucked away in the foothills of Scotland? Were they cuddled together on the sofa without a clue, laughing over midnight re-runs of Monty Python's Flying Circus? She almost hoped that they were oblivious; she much preferred that image to one of her mother in tears. Even if it sometimes it was nice to have people be worried for you, she couldn't imagine what they might be going through…

She had always known they were insecure about their lack of understanding about the world that had swallowed up their only daughter… who wouldn't be? To them, she might as well have disappeared in a foreign country, for all their ability to do anything about the situation.

Which was, more or less, the truth.

Hermione tucked the quilts more firmly around her, sinking down deeper into the lumpy cushions of the old sofa. She couldn't believe that it was almost December. It took her a moment to realize that she was blinking back hot tears, as images of past Christmases began to bubble up in her memory. Hermione hadn't spent Christmas with her parents since Voldemort returned; she had been too afraid for their safety. But most holidays before then had found their little threesome traveling to strange and exotic places, and she cherished those experiences more than anything.

Being able to travel with her mum and dad was somewhat of a rock for Hermione. Hogwarts, magic, everything about her life there had driven a wedge between them… It began from the moment she was told she was a witch, and it would never stop. It'd just sink deeper.

They couldn't understand this world, and what pained her even more was that she could never make them understand it. No amount of explanation and logic did anything but make them nod their heads and give those patronizing smiles she had become so accustomed to. And it broke her heart, the fact that she couldn't make them see.

But when those moments were forgotten, when they were camping and touring and being whisked away to faraway places, they were a family. They were each as lost and alone and foreign as the other; not one of them belonged. And it was perfect, if only for that time.

When Hermione felt the familiar prickle of tears behind her eyes, she shut off her thoughts on the subject. She would not cry. Instead she reminded herself how easy it was to forget about them, now, so far away from it all. So far away from the world she was used to.

Hermione was also disheartened by how quickly she had become accustomed to putting up with Leo's antics and living on his sofa. But should she truly be upset that she wasn't miserable? A part of her said yes, that by accepting her circumstances she was only giving in and giving up, but a bigger part of her denied that acceptance meant submission. In fact, it was almost empowering that she could feel at ease in her situation, because she still had her own mission to consider.

Although, when considered, she realized she wasn't really making much progress on that front.

She could still count on one hand all the things she knew about her captor. It's not for lack of trying, she thought, frustrated. Leo was certainly not the most talkative person, although in the past few days she had been able to redirect petty arguments and turn them into less hostile banter. It was almost endearing to see Sirius's sense of humor shine through Leo's dark veneer.

Wait. Whoa. What? Endearing? I must have meant Hagrid's definition of the word. Leo is about as endearing as a hairless cat.

She wanted to hate him. Really, she did. He was a murderer, a kidnapper, and a criminal. He was a bloody werewolf. And yet… somehow, she felt compelled to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Why?

For Sirius?

"It's allmmm… bloody fault…."

Hermione shot upwards, heart suddenly on overdrive. What the…

"Can't…. trust…"

The semi-coherent strings of words were traveling down the hallway from Leo's cracked door, and Hermione strained to hear more as she wrapped the top blanket around her shoulders and supported herself on her good leg. As she inched towards the door, there was more murmuring, but nothing she could understand.

The door opened with a slight protest from unoiled hinges to reveal a tossing, turning Leo. Sweating profusely, he had kicked off most of his blankets and his black curls were plastered to his forehead. His muscles rippled, glistening with perspiration under the light of a nearly full moon streaming through his half-open blinds. Hermione watched him submerged in his nightmare with piqued interest, praying to anyone that he wouldn't wake up and see her standing in his doorway.

Suddenly, her heart jumped in her throat.

"My Lord…"

She gulped, half-hoping she had misheard him, but those words rang through the room clear as a bell.

He was kneeling on a marble floor in a dimly-lit room, facing a dais with a chair in which a tall, cloaked figure sat. Long, spindly fingers tapped the armrest methodically. Leo hoped that the waves of hatred he was sending his way were giving the accomplished Legilimens a sizeable headache. But his face was stoic and his eyes lowered; he saw Lucius give a microscopic nod in his peripheral vision, and the ghost of a smile.

The floor fell away and the figures twisted into silhouettes of tall trees against a setting sun. Mountain ranges stretched for miles in the distance. Leo shivered slightly and shifted his rucksack on his shoulders as the gravel road crunched beneath his boots. Another pair of boots fell into step next to his.

"We'll make it by nightfall if we keep up this pace," said the man next to him. Leo pushed back his hair and said nothing as they continued under the canopy of gnarled trees. They trudged on in silence for a while longer, dusk slowly settling in, until the pair spotted lights that seemed to grow with every step, emerging from the hilltop in front of them.

The streetlamps blurred and twisted as the trees had done, shrinking into flickering candles on a wooden desktop where Leo's rucksack had been dumped. He tipped backwards in his chair, balancing on the back two legs with one boot on the desk, while the second man paced in front of the small kitchenette.

"Joshua, you need to calm your shit," Leo said, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm getting impatient, too, but you can't expect to win them over after just a few weeks. We need to make sure the job gets done. That's it. We can't afford to get frustrated and make mistakes. If we don't treat this delicately, if we can't make it happen…. there's no telling –"

"I've been hearing things, you know." Joshua stopped pacing to turn and face Leo. He ran his hands over his sandy blonde stubble in thought. "Dahlia warned me about the cubs…"

"Yes, I know," Leo growled impatiently, sitting up. "There will always be resistance when authority switches hands, but we can't let rumors about some rebel group of Were pups undermine the progress we've already made with Garouth. We're days away from getting the Unbreakable Vow from him."

Joshua sighed. "I know, it's just the full moon and everything is making me a bit antsy. I know we've put charms in place, but still…" He walked over to the window, eyes flitting back and forth over the empty streets…

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling yell erupted from Joshua's throat. A clawed arm burst forth from the window and wrapped around his neck, ripping his windpipe out in a shower of blood and shattered glass before the wizard could even reach for his wand.

Leo didn't waste a millisecond to marvel at the gruesome scene before him or the werewolves that were emerging from the broken window, two, three, four of them… he snatched up a Muggle gun from the holster on his waist and fired into the pack. Their yellow eyes widened in surprise…. Leo growled back at them as he swiftly changed the magazine. They had taken Wolfsbane potion… they were completely cognizant of what they were doing.

The first two wolves fell as the window closest to Leo shattered as well; he ducked and narrowly avoided the same fate as his partner as a blur of white soared overhead and collided with the wall next to him, accompanied with a sickening crunch. Leo was on autopilot, firing quickly and methodically. Four were down. Five. Six… and then…

There was nothing but pain. So, so much pain… and blood, everywhere, and his pulse was all he heard as he fired his last round of silver into the face of the wolf that had sunk its fangs into his shoulder… he didn't realize he was already on his knees as he spat blood and panted and screamed and screamed and screamed….

"LEO! Leo, wake up! Leo, it's just a –"

Hermione's voice shook him from his nightmare and brought him back to the blue sheets of the bed in his London flat. He bolted upright, panting, clutching his shoulder that was now throbbing with phantom pain. A bead of sweat clung to the tip of his nose and tremored violently along with him.

"…. dream."

He met Hermione's wide, worried eyes for a split second. "Get out," he growled dangerously.

She backed out of the doorway hesitantly, eyes never leaving his.

"I said," Leo hissed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and rearing up to his full height, dwarfing Hermione, "GET. THE FUCK. OUT!"

She didn't think a cripple had ever run so quickly.

AN: Dun dun dun! :) Let me know what you think about this little glimpse of Leo's past!