2. September 1996

The asphalt under her feet was still hot from the sun. The air around her full of the scent of blooming flowers, wheat and the muddy odor of a slowly running river that cut through the fields around her. The moon, still hanging close to the horizon, shone in its silver light that allowed her to roam the earth. In front of her, running for his life, was a young farmer boy.

Whenever he was a bit too far away, just a meter beyond her noses range, she would apparate to his side. "Demon!" he would scream in panic, infusing his blood with delicious adrenaline. His hands held a small cross that hung as a trinket on a golden chain. It radiated light and when she had touched it the first time by accident, it had burned her.

That made Hermione curious.

Whenever he begged Jesus or God himself for help, Hermione felt how his scent got a bit weaker, his outlines a bit harder for her to see and the sound of his boots on the hot asphalt a bit harder to hear. At some level it frustrated her greatly that such a insignificant thing was able to hurt her, even if it was barely more than a light burning on her skin. Something that healed in matters of seconds. On a whole different level it fascinated her greatly.

Once more she apparated to his side and the farmer boy screamed in terror. He stumbled and fell. He still held the cross to his chest and so he planted his face on the asphalt without hands to stop the impact. Shallow wounds got ripped into his skin by the gravel on, and the rough surface of the street. A taste of copper streamed in his mouth and when he wanted to wail, he realized that he had bitten his tongue. He was paralyzed in fear of the dark creature standing above him, eying him with hunger and devilish delight. There was no doubt in his mind, and neither was there any in his heart. Lucifer, Beelzebub, the Lightbringer – the devil had come to get him. The devil stood above him in the form of a beautiful woman with eyes straight from the deepest circles of hell. Her body was clad in teared rags and the remains of normal, red knickers. She stunk of blood and rotting flesh and when she growled at him with the sounds of demons ascending, her teeth and... and her fangs, shone yellow with the remains of her last meal stuck in the gaps.

It was then that deep inside the monster, born from curiosity, a spark of something the monster had believed dead shone again. It was small and it was feeble, but it was there and it kept the monster from its meal.

The small spark within her fought the urge to kill, drink and eat. The farmer boys blood clouded her senses. There was only his blood, rich with adrenaline and the scent of hearty meals. He was healthy, young and full of trained muscles. His biceps and upper legs were massive piles of flesh, strong and formed on fields and hard farm work. He would make such an amazing meal, especially this early in the night. But the pesky, little spark held her back.

It was much more interested in the trinket and what it did. Why did it do these things? Why did it burn her skin and how come it channeled magic, even if the boy was a muggle?

What was it? She didn't know.

The spark, however, remembered. A cross, a catholic one at that. The boy was a christian. Did that mean god, or gods in general, were real? So very interesting, the spark noted.

So very unsatisfying, grumbled something within her. The part that needed flesh and blood, violence and torture to function. The part that held dominion over this body. How dare this body to think these things? How dare it to wait when the orders were given? Kill him! Drink and eat from him!

But she couldn't move as the spark held her back and fixated her gaze onto the small, golden cross in the boys grasp.

She knelt down next to him. When he tried to crawl away, an angry hiss paralyzed him again. Her hands, red from old, dried up blood and filthy with dirt took his hands and pulled them away from his chest as if she'd move small twigs. The cross lay on his chest and with a quick move, she grabbed it, pulled at the golden necklace which broke immediately at the boys neck.

A small pillar of smoke came from her hands and she felt the skin in her hand be scorched by it. Not too hard, not to severe. When she concentrated on it, she could easily counter-heal the burning to the point of not even feeling it.

"How... very... interesting." she breathed, her eyes now completely away from the boy. "Do you believe?" she asked him.

He didn't answer. His breath went fast and Hermione could hear his heart pumping miles per minute. He was covered in his sweat and nearly wetting himself in fear.

When he had yet to answer after nearly half a minute, Hermione concentrated on his throat and willed her magic to lift him up at it. The gurgle coming from him told her that she was, once again, successful with her new found powers. She let him hover next to her, close to her face. So close that she could feel the air coming from his lungs.

"I asked you something." she asked in a deadpan tone that made the spine of the poor farmer boy tremble. "Do you believe?"

"I- I- I- I-believe in God, the F-F-Father alm-mighty, creator of h-h-h-heaven and earth." he stuttered. Tears rushed down his face and his hands tried to get a grip on the force that held his throat up in the air. "I believe in Jesus Christ, his only... urgh... his only Son... argh!" he croaked.

When Hermione felt the air becoming short in his lungs, she let go of him. She knew what she wanted to. "Highly interesting... indeed."

***Countess***

Remus Lupin was waiting anxiously for the arrival of the Greyfog wolves. They were late. He had apparated to Glasgow, and stood before a small pub in the outskirts of the city. It was rather run down and the patrons leaving and entering completed the image with their haunted looks and cheap clothes. By now he had waited over half an hour for the wolves to arrive. He understood that they had to act with caution, but this was ridiculous.

The sounds of apparition filled the air. With a exasperated sigh, he turned around. But the froze immediately when he saw the figure walking in the middle of the street.

Hermione.

Remus shuffled deeper into the shadows and hoped, prayed that the girl didn't notice him in the amalgamation of odors coming from the outlets of the greasy pub and the homes around it. But he couldn't let her out of his sight. This was it. They had searched for her for weeks now, and just like that she apparated in front of his nose. Remus wasn't sure if he was the luckiest or the most unfortunate man in the world.

From the shadows he took a good look at his former student as she strut slowly through the lights of the streetlamps. Her eyes were the first thing he saw and he felt himself cower before them. They were nearly completely red, blood-red, and in them was nothing even remotely human. At the sight before him, he remembered the letter he had gotten from the Chieftess after his first report.

The Countess will fight with the darkness. She will be overwhelmed with it until she is nothing more than a wild animal and lost to the cause. Our time runs short, my pup. We must help her find equilibrium before its too late.

Remus wondered if their time has run out by now. Even if his werewolf senses were far below what a vampire had, he was sure that even a human would be able to smell the stunk of blood, sweat and rotting flesh on the girl. Her body was covered in old blood and her hair was unkempt, in knots and had a dark red coloring. Her clothes were little more than rags, held together by a few, last, sturdy strings. It was obvious that she just didn't care, probably didn't even realize how she looked and smelled.

Her walk was slow, but determined. It reminded Remus of the way animals on the top of the food chain walked. They had nothing to fear, had to report to no one. Where they walked, others moved to the side, or fled in an attempt to save their lives.

Hermione stopped in front of the pub, and with iron expression looked through the window. She seemed to look for something, or someone. She spent a few minutes, analyzing the inside of the pub. Minutes in which Remus felt his heart pumping against his throat, every breathe a challenge. He felt the raw power roll off of her. It saturated the air around her, made lights flicker and some small pebbles on the street float a few inches in the air.

Then it happened, out of the blue, with no warnings. She hadn't even drawn a wand. She just moved her hands in one swift motion. The windows broke into a thousand shards as a man flew through them. His body got cut all over.

With a loud thud and a shout of pain the man landed on the street. He bowed his back and Remus could see a huge shard sticking in his side. Blood streamed from the wound and Remus was sure that in the next moment he'd witness Hermione devour the poor lad.

Shouts of surprise and anger came from the pub. A swift move of her hands through the air. Screams of pain and anguish. Then there were no more human sounds coming from the pub, only the soft music from a radio behind the bar. Remus witnessed as the patrons fell from their chairs or slumped down onto the bar, dead. Just like that she had killed at least seven people while the eighth waited on the street, still moaning in pain.

The eighth was unaware of what had happened until Hermione stood above him. His moaning ended, his pain all forgotten in the face of terror itself.

Remus already readied himself to see unimaginable slaughter. He had seen most of the corpses Hermione had left and could just imagine how they reached the state in which they found them.

But she did nothing the like. Instead she bowed down, her hands looking twisted, crooked with her nails long, thick and sharp as eagles claws. Slowly she bowed down and took something from the mans chest. Remus could barely make it out, but in the dim light he recognized the form of a wooden, christian cross, hanging on a silver chain as a trinket. Silver! How could she even touch it? Remus felt the metals magic threatening him with its purity even here. She touched it, completely ignoring that by now it should have burned through her hands like acid. Let alone the cross. Why didn't it set her hands aflame?

His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the voice of Hermione, vibrating in the silence of the night. It was not a growl and certainly not aggressive. It was clear, without pressure. Her voice was so neutral, out of anyone else' mouth it would've sounded like they spoke of the weather. From her it was a certain death-threat. All of her, her body, her voice, her magic, was.

"Do you believe in this god?" she slowly asked.

The man beneath her didn't, probably couldn't move. His pants got an darker shade around his crotch as he wet himself in fear. His body shivered and no pain gained from the shards in his body was able to free him of his stun.

Remus was about to flee. He felt his knees become weak, his breathing become narrow and his mind was all but clouded with fear and one primal instinct begging him to run. But there was another feeling. One he had felt when dealing with Dumbledore. One he had felt again when he swore allegiance to the Chieftess. It was a feeling that told him to stay, kneel and do as ordered. It was a sense of hierarchy, not like in the Packs or the Order. No, it was much like the wish of a lowly creature to obey its alpha. Remus was aware enough of himself and his mind that he knew it was magic induced, this feeling. It was like a Veela's magic towards men, or like a Succubus' magic towards a lonely soul. But still, he couldn't help himself. So he stayed, not wanting to go near her while also not wanting to leave her side.

Cracks of apparition sounded from behind him and with dread he checked if Hermione had recognized it. The faint move of her head told him that she had. However she refocused onto the cross in her hand, clearly not interested in something that reeked of fear. Why? He could only guess.

"Its... her..." came the faint whisper from behind him. Remus turned around to see a feral looking woman with blonde braided hair and golden eyes that he recognized immediately. She was the aggressive counselor that had all but jumped at his throat. But her expression was anything but angry right now. Admiration, longing and something Remus would consider a dazed look was on her face while her gaze was fixated on the form of Hermione Granger. She walked closer towards Hermione, cautious and bowing in submission.

Remus did not have a good feeling about this. His hands stretched out to hold her, but even at a slight touch, her guttural growl made him take back his hand.

She walked, step for step, closer to Hermione. The werewolf woman came out of the shadows, already bowed in submission. Another step and then another. Her heels crushed the shards on the streets and the cracking sounds drew an dreadful atmosphere around the scene.

The distance at which she stopped was one of respect, but not fear. Her stance one of admiration, not submission. She looked at Hermione and Remus saw, against all his prayers, that Hermione had took notice of her. Her red eyes glowed with the promise of a quick, but nonetheless painful, death.

***Countess***

The cross in her hand was wooden. She wasn't sure if this was important or not, but she made a note in her head. It was not like the gold of the farmers boy's.

The boy I should have killed! I needed his blood! He runs free! He has escaped ME! NOBODY ESCAPES ME!

Disregarding the screams in her head, Hermione focused back on the item in her hands. The wooden cross on the silver necklace. Silver. Silver was the metal of purity and should have much more effect on her than the metal of greed. Gold was nothing of concern to any creature, while silver should at least burn her. Highly... highly interesting. Wood, on the other hand, did nothing against anything as far as the materials magic goes. Indeed, while a living tree could be used in a ritual against her, dead wood is...

ENOUGH! I need to kill him, rip him apart! What am I doing?! I! NEED! HIS! BLOOD!

Saliva ran together in her mouth at the thought of the meal before her. His fear was even greater than the farmer boy's. His blood was so rich in adrenaline, her nostrils flared at the mere smell. His veins were filled with the delicious red liquid, slightly spiced up by his light intoxication.

Then again, why exactly didn't the silver burn her skin? Was it something she did, or was it something the man underneath her did? He was a muggle, so chances for that were rather low. But still...

A smell flew across her nose. It was an odd one with many different notes in it. For one, it was a scent of someone akin to her, a dark creature. If this would have been the only thing to notice, she would have disregarded the creature already. Many creatures of the night had gathered around her when she ate, eager to feast on the scraps. Grindylows, crows and ravens, acromantulas and ghouls felt her presence and knew that food awaited when they just followed her path. Hermione didn't mind.

However, the scent that mixed into this was one she knew all too well. Remus Lupin.

I need to kill him. Fucking traitor and coward. His blood smells repulsive, werewolf, but I don't need to feast on him. Just need to tear him apart limb from limb.

But then again. She would have her vengeance. There was no need to hurry and for what its worth, there was a certain delight to be gained from his horror. And compared to the riddle in front of her, her thoughts of revenge were feeble. They would all burn for their failure to stand by her when she needed them. They would all feel her wrath, eventually.

But the man before her had just so much blood, just so much energy in him. Here, she needed to hurry to get what she wanted.

"Do you believe in this god?" she asked, eyes fixated on the man. He didn't answer, but in his looks the truth was obvious. He did not. In fact, Hermione smelled his fear taking over, taking from him the control over his body.

It made the spark within her wonder how she looked right now.

Hermione closed her eyes as the headache within her grew. The small spark of light fought bravely against the screaming and wailing voices in her head. Voices who now, bipolar as ever, begged and ordered her to kill the man before her. She wanted it, she knew. She needed his blood, his flesh. But she also needed answers. She needed to know. Hermione winced slightly at the pain right underneath the skin of her temples. It was where the voices sat and tried to control her.

This is what I get when I don't kill. Pain. Pain is all I have, unless others feel it.

Hermione was about to unleash her hunger. She already moved her claws over the soft and fat belly of the man. She would focus on the limbs of the man. Once again, the lard in him would make the meal sub-par. She would pierce him in his chest, this time. It made them gurgle so deliciously and she had made the experience that a slow death infused the flesh with one last wave of ever so tasteful adrenaline.

"Its... her..." came a new voice from the same alley Lupin stood in. Hermione had heard the distinctive crack of apparition and had assumed that her former professor had finally left the scene. Instead, another werewolf had arrived. She smelled just as much of wolf as Lupin. Her blood was repulsive, so far from being human and her flesh was inedible for her, just like that of every other dark creature. But she didn't show fear. Instead a wave of euphoria tainted her scent. Her skin was giving off a scent of artificial coconut, most likely from a soap and around her neck, a parfum made of roses deformed her natural scent. In other words, she peeked Hermione's interest. Werewolf weren't supposed to smell good. They normally reeked of poverty while this one nearly stunk of wealth. It came from her clothes and from the way she moved.

Not satisfied with just the information her nose gave her, Hermione lifted her head so that her eyes could glare at the new person. She was rather beautiful with a twisted aura of animal around her. She had to give it to the woman. Just a few weeks back, Hermione would have been terrified. Now, however, the dangerous woman was in no way a threat.

She came closer to Hermione. Her steps were small and cautious on the glass covered street. Then, just a few meters before Hermione, she knelt, completely disregarding the sharp glass beneath her. Yes, this one was truly interesting.

"My Queen. I have finally found you."

Hermione let go of the cross in her hand, now completely focusing on the female werewolf before her. How had she called her? Why didn't she smell fear in her? Why wasn't this wolf running? Why did she kneel? "Who are you?" Hermione growled, her voice deep and demonic.

She smiled at the woman's reaction. There it was, the fear. She was uncertain now and the euphoria in her made way for something more dull. But she still knelt and she still gazed at Hermione in admiration. "I- I am..." she stuttered. But it wasn't fear that paralyzed her tongue, Hermione knew. It was nervousness. "I am – am Counselor Annemarie Lanzmann. I come from the Greyfog Packs."

"Are you one of those hunting me?" Hermione asked. Yes, this woman interested her. Her accent was german, her name as well. She claimed to be a counselor of sorts. She was a werewolf. How did that all fit together?

"NO!" the woman blurted. Her eyes were wide in shock and in the next moment, she bowed even deeper before Hermione. She smelled blood coming from the forehead and arms of the woman. It came from cuts she got frm the shards on the ground while bowing before Hermione as if she was a god. 'Appropriate' the dark voices whispered.

"No, my Queen." she whispered. "We have looked for you, everywhere. We want you to take your place as our leader."

Hermione pondered the words. Leader? Queen? A creeping suspicion came to mind. What if the woman before her tried to trick her? Yes, Hermione was sure of it. It was but a trick to capture her. Dumbledore couldn't catch her like a rabid dog, now he had to lure her in.

'HOW DARE THIS BITCH?!'

With a swish of her hand, the werewolf woman was smashed against a wall. Her bones broke at impact and the hit on her head knocked her out. She sunk to the floor like a puppet. It was obvious that the woman's spine was broken into pieces and several limbs hung in impossible angles from her body.

Hermione focused back on the man lying before her and saw that he was already unconscious from the loss of blood he endured. It was rather unsatisfying to not be able to see his eyes grow wide in shock when she killed him. The adrenaline was already less and less dominant in his blood and, being unconscious, he was also free of fear.

Instead of eating she redirected her gaze onto Lupin, who was waving his wand over the lifeless form of the female. Maybe she was his mate? Hermione could only guess and decided that it probably was like that. She felt the panic in him and heard the sloppy incantations of healing spells. He was too nervous to produce good enough spells and her bones he healed didn't mend completely.

Hermione stood up, slowly and with a certain grace. She would break his heart completely and steal from him the last chance to restore his mates. Yes, that sounded like music to her ears. It would break his mind before she would be breaking his body.

With slow steps she stepped closer to the two werewolves. The cracking of the glass beneath her feet brought Lupin's attention to her.

"Please, Hermione! She told the truth! We won't hurt you! We want to help you! Please!" the werewolf begged. Looking closer at him, Hermione saw the dark rings under his eyes being more pronounced than normal, his face gaunt and his eyes red from a lack of sleep.

Like before with the farmer boy, she concentrated on his neck and lifted him with her will alone. He gurgled as his lungs found no air to breathe through the tight grasp. She moved him closer to her, until he was just a few inches before her, and then dropped him before her feet. He broke down onto his knees, hissing because of the shards piercing his kneecaps.

"Help me? Isn't that what you failed to do already?" she growled out. Her hate added another layer to her voice, like an echo from a dark side world. It sounded through the street, producing whispering echos at every wall. "I will kill her and you will watch! Then I will let you beg for your life. And then - then I will kill you."

Lupin gasped at her words and her voice. She sounded nothing like before. Her voice was not from this world, but some darker, much darker place. His whole body trembled in horror. His eyes couldn't find a focus and everything around him was a blur. Her mere presence, the all devouring magic streaming off her body pinned him to the spot.

Suddenly he got an idea. It was risky, scratch that, it was absolutely mental, but it could work.

"Read my mind, Hermione! We want to help you! Please! The incantation is..."

"I don't need incantations." she drawled, not without pride. She had to admit, his idea had merit. Who knew, maybe he did say the truth? If not she could always just leave him a vegetable after destroying his mind. She chuckled at the idea. Yes, she would very much like that.

"Look at me!" she commanded him.

Slowly, shivering he looked up to her. His green eyes met the devilish red of hers and before he knew it, a brutal force smashed into him.

Hermione enjoyed ravaging his meager mental defenses. They were weak and under her assault, paper thin. Before anything else, she tore at his mind, filling it with just the worst memories of her last weeks.

'THIS IS YOUR FAULT!' she screamed in his mind while pressing images of broken humans, severed limbs and the sound of her victims screams into his head. Remus Lupin wailed in pain and terror. Hermione laughed like mad. He would suffer. He would suffer so much and yet, he would be the one with the softest punishment. There was much worse to come for the likes of Dumbledore.

Remus' mind was chaos. Hermione didn't hold back, pushed all her pain and hate into him. He couldn't stand it. He wanted to claw his eyes out to make the pictures go away. He wanted to rip his ears off to silence the screams. But most of all, he wanted her prying, red and black eyes out of his head. She didn't even look around, she just stared into his very soul and laughed as his mind quickly descended into madness.

"Look..." A picture of a child, torn apart somewhere in Cornwall "...at..." A centaur, his torso severed from the horse body, screaming in pain. "...truth!" he managed to press out in between the vision of Hermione's monstrous deeds.

Suddenly the visions stopped and he felt her mental eyes looking deeper into his mind. He could feel her watching more than he intended. She watched as he fell into alcoholism in his grief over James and Lily. She watched with delight the moments of suffering he had endured in his life. The inability to be there for Harry, Sirius' betrayal and the constant shaming of his werewolf existence. She watched as Dumbledore brought him the news that he would have to let him go as Defense teacher. She laughed madly at his feelings of disappointment and hurt.

Her laugh grew less when she saw his worries over Harry being a champion in the tournament. She was even less amused by the scenes showing him begging Dumbledore to do something, anything. Her eyes made a big jump, over a year, to the scenes in St. Mungos. She watched as he pleaded her case, defended her against the murderous intents of the rest of the Order. No, what he felt now was not her amusement, but something way more terrifying. He witnessed the image of an enemy forming in her mind.

Dumbledore would die a horrible, slow and painful death after watching everything he built, everyone he loved and every single one of his ideals burn to ashes. Remus saw her imagining the headmaster scream, impaled on a pike while standing on top of the dead Order. He saw the Ministry and all of Dumbledore's sycophants burning in the background, the skies black from smoke and the air full of the smell of burning corpses.

Then, finally, Hermione looked at the memories he tried to press towards her. The memories of his new allegiance, of the Chieftess and her promises. He showed her the Clans of the Triangle and the promises the Chieftess made for her.

"A Countess?" she asked idly, more to herself than to Remus. "This has... potential." she breathed into the air.

Then she began to giggle. Remus shook his head in disbelief. The most terrifying dark creature he had ever seen giggled. However, soon her giggles became chuckles, deep and malevolent. Her eyes still fixated on his mind as she saw the final memory. She saw the promises the Chieftess gave him and then she laughed. She laughed long and in her demonic voice that was so detached from the mortal world.

The magicks holding him in place went away and Hermione, still laughing, made her way to Annemarie. The female werewolf was still folded into a heap, her bones still broken.

Hermione loved what she had seen and done. Lupin would have nightmares for the rest of his life. A punishment for his past failures. But he had told her the truth and so she had let him keep his sanity. They really wanted to help her, guide her, serve her and most importantly, make her even more powerful. Yes, all of this was too good to let pass. Back in her mind, some paranoid voices were appeased by the possibility of just killing everyone should they betray her.

But she needed the female for this and so she walked towards the heap of flesh lying before her. She could still smell her heart beating, weak but still alive. Her breaths were shallow and she was as close to dying as one could be.

With a swish of her hand she willed her magic to mend the bones, close the wounds and numb the pain. The spine of the female rearranged itself, her nerves came back together and the many flesh wounds closed in a matter of seconds. Its actually surprised Hermione. She hadn't thought that she would be able to do Healing spells so effectively. Just one more thing to make a note of.

The female, Annemarie she remembered, moaned in pain. Her bones cracked and snapped into place when she moved. "Was issn paschiee?" she slurred, clearly not fully conscious.

With another swish of her hand, Hermione made the heart rate of the werewolf woman go faster and her lungs breathe deeply. Suddenly Annemarie sat straight as broom against the wall, her eyes wide open and staring at Hermione.

It took a while for her to register who she was looking at, but the moment she noticed, she slumped back into the bowing position from before. Her head touched the street beneath her, even though the position gave her pain. "Mu Quee..." She still slurred, but Hermione just shrugged. It would do for the moment.

"Get me to this Chieftess! Now!" Hermione commanded.

"Rig awa-y." the woman answered. She obviously tried to get back control over her tongue, but failed miserably. She stood up, her feet shaking. When she thought she had her balance, she walked towards Hermione only to fall flat on her face after a few steps.

"I- I- so sowwie." she whispered weakly. Hermione could feel her embarrassment. She obviously was a proud woman wherever she lived and not used to cower in the dirt, with no control of her tongue and legs that denied her service. But Hermione had to give her one thing, she was stubborn and will-strong. With her last strength she began to pull her body over the asphalt towards Hermione. She decided in this moment, that she very much liked the female werewolf. Maybe just as a pet, but she liked her nevertheless.

"Help her, Lupin!"

"Yes, Herm..."

"I thought I were your Queen? Why don't you address me as such?"

"Yes, my Queen."

He hasted towards the crawling Annemarie and with a slight touch he stopped her from crawling further. "The portkey, where is it?"

Annemarie didn't answer. She just touched one of her pockets, but was to weak to actually produce anything from them. Remus removed the iron ring from her robes. He lay Annemarie's hand on it, his own over hers and then held it out for Hermione to take.

"If this is a trap, Remus, I will slaughter every single german werewolf. Is that understood?"

Remus just nodded. Any other person and he would have thought in an blatant exaggeration. When Hermione said it, he believed it without a doubt. Considering the state she was in, he had no problem imagining her massacre an entire nation to prove a point. Somewhere in his mind, he wanted nothing more than to run back to the Order, make amends for his betrayal and leave this behind. But there was still the promise of him living a life in peace after this mission so he carried on. "Understood." he answered silently. "Bloodmoon." he said and with the password activated, the portkey took them all by the navel and sent them away from Glasgow, to someplace in Germany.

***Countess***

Alright. This one took a bit longer because as of now, I'm out of pre-written scenes. The chapters before had all, more or less, existed before I started to really begin writing the story.

Anyway. I hope you liked this one. I'm not sure if I got the bipolarity of Hermione right, but this chapter certainly taught me that writing insane characters is very – very hard.

Due to some PM's I received, heres a little update: This is not abandoned. The next chapter(s) are just incredibly hard to get right and have already been rewritten several times by now. Be patient and thanks for reading.