AN: Urgh. I didn't realise that my line breaks hadn't formatted into the past two chapters. I'll probably go back and edit them in when it annoys me enough.

Anyway. AHHHH. I' by the response I've gotten in such a short space of time) though I see you, my sneaky non-reviewers ;) Nah, don't worry about it. Though I'd genuinely like to hear your thoughts. As I said, whilst my Wattpad version of this story is completely Stiles/Mione, I'm open to other ideas...I just might not go with them. But I would like to hear them. That and any critiques you have. I'm a writer and I'm constantly looking to improve. Any questions? LET ME KNOW. Don't keep on guessing aha.

Enjoy!

The stench of blood permeated the air. Flashes of light cracked down around Hermione as she ducked around, weaving through people that were both friend and foe; targeting anybody that threatened the Light resistance. Smoke circulated through Hermione's lungs, causing them to ache desperately for a respite; but she just kept on running, hitting her marks with a deathly position.

"Hermione."

She spun around and a sob tore, unbidden, out of her throat.

"Hermione, why did you leave?" The figure in front of her asked, and time seemed to stand still. His gaunt and pale skin looked shocking and even more deathly against his bright orange hair. His eyes, were just as blue as she remembered; but they were dull and unfeeling. He stumbled towards her, as if drunken.

"You left me!" He shouted, spittle flying every which way. The scent about him was acrid; as if he were a corpse.

"I'm sorry." Hermione sobbed, falling to her knees. "I'm sorry!"

"You left me, Hermione! You let me die!"

Hermione shot up in the bed, panting heavily, her eyes immediately grappling for her beaded bag and wand. She became frantic for a moment before she heard a rumbling groan beside her.

"Oh." She breathed, her heart still racing and tears falling down her cheeks. Stiles.

She was with Stiles. Right. Sighing, Hermione slipped out of bed carefully, making sure not to disturb the boy. He was (thankfully) sleeping soundly, but she knew she wouldn't get another wink of sleep herself. She spotted her bag on the desk and grabbed it, sneaking out into the bathroom.

The fluorescents flickered into life above her, and Hermione splashed some cold water on her face. She looked completely wild; her hair messier than usual; her eyes puffy and red; her skin pale and slick.

"Merlin." She muttered to herself, sliding her wand into her hand. Feeling the magic in her blood sing, she murmured soft incantations, sighing at the relief of her magic being worked. She had learnt that now, going a day without using her magic in some way made her crabby, irritable, and a downright bitch.

The liberal glamour charms she used on her scars; not because she was ashamed, but mainly to protect her identity; helped sap the power leakage somewhat, but they, like most magic, had a time limit. Much like how one could only hold a Wingardium Leviosa for so long, the glamour charms worked the same. She was just lucky they hadn't worn off around Stiles, or she'd have to tell him a lot more than she was ready for.

Stiles was a matter in and of himself. Hermione loved him to pieces, but she knew as soon as she entered the Stilinski household that something was up. Her magic sung again, and it took her a moment to reign it back, lest anything supernatural sensed it and got riled up.

It seems she hadn't managed soon enough, for when she saw Scott, she knew immediately.

Werewolves.

Most likely type C "Lupine Shifters" rather than the full-blown werewolves she'd often encountered, but werewolves all the same. Her magic had instinctively reached out for her as she made her introductions.

Not just a werewolf. Her magic, the helpful entity it was, sensed the magic imprint of a fox spirit, and a banshee.

It seemed all of Stiles' friends were creatures of the night.

As soon as that knowledge had sunken in, Hermione also realised that Stiles most definitely knew. But, she didn't push it. She knew he was probably as broken as her at the moment, and it was not the time to push. He'd tell her when he's ready.

And that's when she'll tell him.

She knew that it was against the rules; however, the Stilinski's were the only familial connections she had to the Muggle world; she'd just claim guardianship if it was brought up.

And hey, his friends were all supernatural, if they needed to know (and Hermione figured he would probably be unable to keep it from his friends) then there'd be no problem.

Sorted.

Hermione stopped in her inner monologuing for a moment, taking a second and sitting on the toilet seat, breathing heavily.

It was just a dream.

A fucking terrifying dream based on reality, but a dream none the less.

The worst part is Hermione knew she couldn't risk taking any Dreamless Sleep. She had a bad reaction to them last time…of the dependency variety. She'd clawed her way out of that hole once, she wouldn't jump back into it.

Digging into her bag, she grabbed a fresh change of clothes.

She might as well go out for a run; ward the house and see if there was anything of the villain kind to look out for whilst she was at it. Slipping into her yoga pants and trainers, she pulled her hair into a ponytail (made easier with the excessive charms on it) and smoothed down her sports bra and her tank top.

Slipping back into Stiles' room, she grabbed her mobile from where it lay charging and ahem, borrowed Stiles' earbuds, before scribbling a quick note.

Grabbing her wand, Hermione started walking the perimeter of the Stilinski house and garden, Latin words falling from her lips as easy as a song as the birds chirped on, peacefully unaware as the first dregs of dawn spilt out; Hermione bathed in a warm orange glow. Soon, a softly glowing dome seemed to encapsulate the house.

A soft stream of magic flowing from a part of the dome to Hermione's wand, as if she was holding onto the thread of a balloon. She moved her wand over to a rock on the ground, pressed up against the foundations of the building.

Pressing the tip against the stone, she felt her magic rush over her body again, sighing in relief as it attached itself to the stone.

An anchor for the magic, if the stone remained in place (and thanks to a permanent sticking charm it would do) then so would the wards.

One, two, three. Inhale. Exhale. One, two, three. Inhale. Exhale.

This became Hermione's routine as she tore through the forest, her keen eyes immediately taking observations of everything as she ran around the block and started making her way into the woods.

Blood pumped and muscles ached, but Hermione pushed on, the feelings and sensations only driving her to continue with a twisted sense of pleasure.

Hermione used to hate running. Going from the Great Hall to the Astronomy tower in ten minutes would've caused stitches and wheezes and the unpleasant odour of sweat. A lot of things changed after the war, however. Hermione had to run far and fast to survive; and if she didn't get bloody good at it sharpish, she would be dead meat.

It was peacetimes now, but Hermione's sudden ability to run great distances at great speeds had become somewhat of a relaxing ritual; her mind would observe and analyse everything in the background but for the most part she could switch off and let the adrenaline and pent up energy inside of her out.

One, two three. Inhale, Ex-

"Oof!"

Hermione went tumbling down a sudden hill as she crashed into another figure; the tumbled together, and had Hermione not recognised the figure as soon as she got her bearings, she likely would've punched them, and then hexed them.

Hard.

"Oh!" She gasped slightly, her eyes wide. She was pinned under one of Stiles' friends.

What was his name…

"Oh, are you…Derek? Hale? One of Stiles' friends?" She asked, coughing slightly, unnerved by his unrelenting gaze. He seemed to snap to and blushed, scrambling back slightly and pulling Hermione up onto her feet.

"Yeah-I'm so sorry about that. I don't get people running this way usually, and I was distracted."

Hermione grinned sheepishly, nodding at his apology. "You weren't the only one. I'm so sorry for running into you." He shook her off with a smile. A hesitant one, but a smile nonetheless.

Hermione beamed, hoping to relax him. He did…slightly.

"What are you doing out this early?" He asked her, his head tilted. Hermione chuckled.

"I could ask the same for you, you realise?" She smirked. He gave her a shit eating grin in retaliation. He and Stiles were quite alike, she noticed. They probably had a huge, testosterone filled rivalry going on. Her inner laughter was halted, however.

"Technically, I was just checking the perimeters of my land. My family bought it ages ago, but it ends at the top of the hill, before the incline." He chuckled.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't realise I had been trespassing."

"No, really, don't worry about it." He answered her, and she nodded.

Silence loomed for an awkward second. Or minute. Whatever.

"S-So…how are you finding America?"

"I rather like it so far. Not so much the politicians, but the people I've met." She smiled at him. It was finally returned in full and they both started walking ahead, the hill disappearing behind them. Aside from Scott, this was Stiles' first friend- or acquaintance- Hermione had gotten the chance to properly talk to.

They talked about a variety of easy topics; Derek's life outside of Beacon Hills, Hermione's travels through Europe (albeit a heavily edited version) and how she had come to find a friend across the pond, all due to a primary school pen pal system.

Derek stopped suddenly, taking a cautious sniff.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows furrowed and a frown tugging at her lips. She would pretend to play dumb at Derek rather obviously trying to sniff something out, but she wouldn't let a problem go unnoticed.

"Stay here." He answered simply, a frown on his own face, before stalking forward slowly. Rolling her eyes, Hermione followed.

"I thought I told you to stay?"

"I'm not a Labrador thank you very much; I will do as I please. I am Stiles' friend for a reason, and this is one of them." She bit out, and Derek looked back at her, nodding apologetically.

"I didn't mean to be insulting, something just doesn't seem…right."

"And if something is 'wrong' then I'm perfectly capable of handling myself, thank you very much."

…

"Like that?" Derek asked.

Noah Stilinski and a band of deputies marched into the forest and, sighting Hermione (and Derek) he sighed in relief.

"How are you managing?" He asked her softly. Hermione had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"Honestly! I'm not a child you know. You and Derek both keep asking if I'm okay. It's nothing I can't handle."

"Walking into a pile of dead bodies isn't exactly something you should have to handle, Hermione." Derek retorted behind her, and Noah's gaze fell onto the young man. Scrutinising him. Hermione caught the words on the tip of his tongue.

"Oh, geez, Sheriff. Derek did nothing; we've been together for a while now, at least an hour or two before we found the body, and it's obvious that the body on top was only an hour old." Hermione huffed.

"How on earth do you know that?" Noah asked.

"Rate of decomposition. The body hasn't begun decomposition. Rigor Mortis sets in anything up to eight hours after death based on conditions and becomes completely stiff after about twelve. The body is still bloody warm. I did a degree in forensics and forensic biology over a couple of summers when I was younger." She stated factually, arms crossed as the men gaped at her. She rolled her eyes again.

"Where's Stiles?" She asked. He wouldn't let Noah keep him away from this, whether Hermione was here or not.

It truly was a macabre sight. Twelve bodies piled up on one another. Bodies being a literal term; the heads were strung up on a rope between two trees; completely skinned skulls at this point. The smell was acrid and crawling with bugs and maggots, but a pristine, albeit nude body of the last victim; an old Caucasian male; lay on the top, untouched. Arms crossed as if he'd been laid in a coffin.

Thankfully, Hermione didn't lose her stomach. Unthankfully, it's because she'd seen much worse.

Noah sighed in exasperation.

"He's in the cruiser. Or at least, I left him there. He probably wouldn't have moved until about five minutes after we all left, so he'll get here about-"

"-Now," Stiles responded, jogging up to his Dad and immediately pulling Hermione into a hug.

"You okay?" He asked worriedly, his face pale at the look of the crime scene that was being quickly cordoned off.

"Why does everybody keep asking that!" Hermione huffed but held Stiles tight to her.

"I just worry is all," Stiles mumbled and, a soft smile on her face, Hermione leant up to press a kiss on Stiles' cheeks.

"I know you do, I'm sorry for snapping, Ahote."

"You know you don't need to apologise for anything, Donoma." (1)

Derek and the Sheriff looked on in confusion before Noah coughed slightly. Hermione's gaze shifted over to him.

"I'll have to take statements from you both." He said, nodding at Derek. "But it won't take long, and you can go after that. Hermione and Derek both nodded in agreement, and soon, it was over.

Hermione and Stiles sat in the police cruiser, Derek having gone back into the woods towards the property line of the old Hale house and land.

"Are you really okay?" Stiles asked for a moment. He had rattled himself, his mind immediately replacing his loved ones in his head.

Dad, Scott, Hermione… Over and over replacing them with his friends, his family.

Hermione. Hermione. He pulled he towards him, holding her tight.

She'd said the body wasn't even an hour old.

What if that had been her?

He had panicked when he woke up to find the bed empty and was about to call Scott to go on a hunt when he saw her note.

He'd relaxed, and was prepared to fall back to sleep for a while; there was still an hour or so before school; but his Dad had burst in through the door, telling him to get his ass into gear.

"Hermione's stumbled into a few...bodies." Was all he was told.

Seeing her stood in front of them…

It could easily have been her.

And that thought had been weighing on him since he took her in his arms.

Hermione shifted to face him, grasping the sides of his face in her pale palms.

"Stiles. I'm okay. And even if I wasn't, I have you, okay? I'll always be okay with you around." She smiled, and his arms wrapped around her instinctively and pressed her into an embrace.

He almost wasn't there. If she'd come into his life a month earlier…The Nogitsune would have no trouble killing her on the spot. Hell, probably do worse to her…

His grip tightened minutely.

He would just have to make sure it never happened again.

He could never lose her.

Donoma is a Native American Omaha name meaning "sight of the sun." I like the idea of her being a "light" to Stiles, and it fit. Plus, it's spoken nicer than some of the other onesI got the information on Rigor Mortis through Google. Don't crucify me for mistakes, thanks. :')

Anyway, I hope you liked that one! Let me know what you think.