III
Despondence
Author's Note: I want to remind you all that this is AU and that a lot of aspects of canon have changed. For instance, certain people who died in canon are not dead here.
Dumbledore and Remus were both watching her with a wary sort of intrigue. Hermione sat up straighter in bed, took a deep breath, and began to relay her tale. As calmly as possible, she told them about her evening trek to the library, and how it was suddenly interrupted by a powerful hex. The next thing she knew, Lucius Malfoy was dragging her into the Forbidden Forest, levitating Remus' unconscious form in front of them. From there, she described in painful detail the whole course of the night, not daring to look at Remus to see his pain.
Dumbledore retained a thoughtful expression throughout the explanation. Finally, once she had finished, he simply uttered a pensive, "How interesting."
"Interesting?" Hermione quipped, perhaps with a little more irritation than she had intended. It's just that it wasn't really interesting to her. It was horrible.
The Headmaster nodded. "Yes, Miss Granger. I find it very intriguing that the night went the way it did. From what I understand of Werewolves, they don't often get warded off by a few blows to the head with a tree branch."
"Sorry about that, by the way," said Hermione. Her eyes found Remus' and he just shook his head as if it was outrageous for her to apologize. She figured that he was right; she had been defending herself.
"Remus," Dumbledore turned, "what do you think about this?"
He sighed deeply. "The Wolfsbane potion – as I'm sure you know, Hermione – must be taken once each day for seven days leading up to the full moon. It is well known that any missing potion renders all the others useless, but I think that some aspects of the six potions I took this past week may have still had some effect on me."
Hermione watched him closely. It was obvious that he'd thought about this a lot. His inner academic was coming out in the way he spoke and moved his hands, like a lecture he was giving to his students. Hermione was glad to see this change in him; she'd hated his quiet and sorrowful resignation only moments before.
"Now," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "I can't remember anything from last night, so we know that the potion couldn't have worked in that manner of retaining the mental facilities. Also: I did attack Hermione," a tortured look crossed his face, "so my mind wasn't intact enough to know not to do that. However, I have a strange inkling that maybe those six other doses of the Wolfsbane did take enough of an effect that I knew to back away after you hit me, Hermione."
"Yes," Dumbledore mused, "I do see the logic there, Remus. It appears that Hermione's efforts to fight back were indeed beneficial in the end."
Hermione didn't say anything, simply watching as Remus' confident demeanor left him. As if the floodgates had been opened, the reality of the situation came storming in. His shoulders drooped, and when his eyes fell on Hermione they were shameful and apologetic.
"Onto other matters," the Headmaster continued, focusing on the young witch in bed, "Miss Granger, I have not contacted your parents yet because I was unsure of whether you wanted them to be notified. Besides, you are of age and therefore I am not required to notify your family of anything that happens here. From what Remus and Severus told me, it seems that you would like this situation to remain quiet."
Hermione nodded. "I don't want my parents to know… at least not until the situation is under control. They wouldn't understand and it would just worry them." It was true; her parents wouldn't be able to look past the werewolf aspect without thinking of fairy tales and horror stories and how they depicted lycanthropy. Plus, if they heard about Lucius Malfoy and his plans for Harry's friends then her parents would certainly demand Hermione to be withdrawn from Hogwarts. She simply couldn't do that.
"A wise choice, I should think," Dumbledore surmised. To his left, Remus stared pensively at the ground. Guilt showed itself in the lines of his forehead. Hermione desperately wished that there was something she could say to make him feel better, but she knew that he would carry this burden with him for a long, long time. It didn't matter what she said.
Professor Dumbledore continued, informing Hermione that Professor Snape was already looking into how Lucius Malfoy had managed all this. In addition, Snape and Dumbledore would be keeping a close eye on Draco Malfoy, as he was a suspect as well. Apparently Snape thought that Draco might have helped his father get into Hogwarts or abduct Hermione. Despite how much Hermione had always disliked Draco, she didn't really think he had it in him to knowingly do something like that. Nevertheless, she figured that they could never be too careful, especially when other students close to Harry were in danger as well.
Dumbledore sighed wearily once he had finished. "I do believe that it is almost time for dinner," he said, standing from his chair, "is there anything else you wish to discuss, Miss Granger?"
Hermione looked at Remus, meeting his eyes. "You're going to stay, right?"
He understood what she was asking despite the ambiguity. "Perhaps-" he took a deep breath, "perhaps it would be best if I resigned. Twice now I have put my students in great danger. The last time- last time no one was hurt permanently, but now... My presence at Hogwarts does not seem to foster a safe environment." He finished with an indignant huff of laughter.
"No!" Hermione shot up straighter in bed, "You can't leave Hogwarts!"
"Hermione, you don't understand- if word got out about this…" The pained expression he wore was becoming all too familiar.
"You can't," she stated, her voice steely. "We need you here. I need you to help me with all of this. Harry and the others need you too, especially with the danger Malfoy now poses."
Remus rubbed his forehead, his head drooping. "Malfoy isn't the danger, I am."
Hermione looked to Dumbledore for help, but the man simply eyed Remus with a pitying expression. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, Hermione shifted and pulled her legs over so that she sat on the side of the bed. "No you're not. This wasn't your fault, you were simply a pawn in Malfoy's game." She was growing more and more frustrated. "Nobody blames you. I know that I never could."
He didn't respond. Finally, Hermione decided that she'd had enough. If he was going to mope and not actually face things realistically then he could do that all on his own. She stood from the bed, reaching for her school robes and shrugging them on over the hospital gown. "If you'll excuse me," she murmured airily, "I need to make an appearance at dinner." She began to walk away, ignoring the stinging pain in her leg where the bite was. Just before she was out of earshot, she turned around, meeting Remus' gaze. "Please stay," she said, her voice softer this time.
He didn't respond, and she turned away before he could. Hermione was intent on sitting in the Great Hall for dinner and making sure that her friends had no clue that anything was amiss.
Remus had never been the type to confide in people. That was why he'd only ever willingly told a handful of people about his Lycanthropy. He didn't like to burden people with his problems, and most of his problems were not the kind of things that could be solved by talking about them.
But right now, all Remus wanted to do was confess everything to someone. He needed to get these terrible, acrid words out of his mind and into the air. He needed to know if he was as wretched and disgusting as he thought he was. He needed to see the expression on someone's face when he told them that he'd infected Hermione Granger with the bane of his existence.
No. He didn't want to see that. He already knew what the reaction would be: disgust, horror, pity, outrage.
Remus cursed loudly, standing up and chucking his glass of Firewhisky against the wall. It shattered upon impact, sending bits of glass and alcohol flying around his rooms. He stood there staring at the mess for a long time, his chest heaving. Eventually, his shoulders slumped. He glanced down at his hand, noting that it was visibly shaking.
He fell back into the couch, trying to calm down. After a moment he reached for his wand and vanished the mess of glass and Firewhisky. His eyes fell on the crackling fire. He stared at it, debating whether or not to floo call Sirius and ask if he could come over.
No. He couldn't tell Sirius. This was Hermione's secret too. If he told Sirius then there was a very good chance that Sirius would let something slip to Harry, and that was not what Hermione wanted.
As time passed, Remus resigned himself to another long, sleepless night. The only difference was tonight he wasn't a crazed, bloodthirsty wolf chasing a young woman through the Forbidden Forest. This time, he was a man drinking too much Firewhisky for a school night, thinking about all the ways in which he'd wronged Hermione Granger.
At least there was one thing he could do to help her: he would stay at Hogwarts. Hermione needed him, and he could help.
In a way it was his duty, and he would stick around to see it through.
Dinner in the Great Hall took much more effort than Hermione initially thought. Luckily, however, Harry and Ginny were completely convinced that she'd come down with some minor sickness, nothing to worry about. As for Ron, he wouldn't notice anything amiss even if someone shouted it across the Great Hall. His relationship with Lavender had moved on to a new, more gag-inducing stage than ever before.
Hermione had made her excuses to retire early and not join Harry and Ginny in the common room after dinner. Now all she had to do was make her way to her own dormitory and finally have some solitude.
As Head Girl, Hermione had her own separate dormitory and bathroom. She shared a small common area with the Head Boy, but she didn't mind that at all. The Head Boy was Evan Barlow, a quiet and studious Ravenclaw. He was undoubtedly the best roommate Hermione had ever had; always polite and unassuming, never taking up too much space in their shared common room.
Turning one last corner, Hermione found the portrait that led to hers and Evan's common area. The portrait was of a very outspoken and peculiar man named Artemis Bungstrell. He liked to tell Hermione stories about how he'd apparently been some great philosopher of the sixteenth century. Portraits, however, gained neither the knowledge nor the personality of their subject. Artemis was a rather presumptuous and proud character because of this. He often liked to proposition Hermione or any other visitors for lengthy discussions in which he tried to prove his depth of thought. Tonight seemed to be one of those nights.
"Ah, Granger!" He cheered, sitting up in his chair excitedly, "I was hoping you would stop by. I wanted to discuss Mawe's Theory of Kinetic Magic with you. Sir Rochester – the portrait down the corridor – and I had the most invigorating debate about it today."
"I'm sorry," Hermione sighed, "I really don't have time for this tonight, Artemis. Asphodel."
He huffed, sliding forward and opening at the utterance of the password.
Hermione gave the portrait one last apologetic look before proceeding into her little common room. Evan was there, sitting at one of the two desks and scribbling away at what was probably his Ancient Runes essay. He looked up when she entered, greeting her with a polite, "hello."
"Hi, Evan," Hermione tried for a normal smile, quickly moving to her own room. Once she was inside, she let out a deep breath, shrugging out of her school robes and falling onto the bed. It was strange that she could be this exhausted after sleeping for practically the whole day. But then again, Madam Pomfrey had mentioned that such a drastic change as this could be particularly taxing for a few days after the infection.
Hermione closed her eyes and remembered the way Madam Pomfrey had danced around certain words, never actually saying "werewolf" or "lycanthropy". It made her angry. She wanted people to be blunt because it wasn't like she could dance around the fact that she was a werewolf. No matter how hard she tried to move her thoughts away from all of this, she just kept circling back to what had happened last night.
It was good that Hermione was now alone in her rooms, far away from Remus. She didn't want him to see the heavy tears rolling down her cheeks or the way she glared at her reflection in the mirror and the scar that swept over her shoulder, still sensitive in its healing.
"You need to put up a strong front, Hermione," she whispered to herself, wiping her tears with the back of her hand and taking deep, shuddering breaths.
While Hermione stood resolutely in front of the mirror, Crookshanks appeared from beneath her bed, meandering forward and curling himself around Hermione's legs. He paused for a moment to sniff the bandaged bite mark on her lower calf, and then continued on. Hermione couldn't stop herself from collapsing to the ground and taking the dear old half-Kneazle into her arms.
"Oh, Crooks," she signed, wiping her unrelenting tears away and chuckling resentfully, "at least you're here to share my misery."
Hermione considered herself very lucky that the boys and Ginny were too engrossed in Quidditch and their respective relationships to pay her much attention. As the weekend ended and classes begun again Hermione didn't have much of a reason to spend an abundance of time with any of them. She had a couple of classes with Harry and Ron, and they ate meals together, but other than that Hermione claimed that she was off to study for N.E.W.T.s and the boys either went to Quidditch practice or spent time with Ginny and Lavender.
The stress of schoolwork luckily took Hermione's mind off of her other problems for a few hours each day. However, it was still very difficult to be in both Potions class and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Potions class was a struggle because of Professor Snape. The odd thing was that in the past, most problems with the Potions Master were because of his cruelty, but this time he wasn't being cruel to Hermione.
In class on Monday Professor Snape assigned the class to brew a Draught of Agility – something often used illegally by Quidditch players to improve their performance – and turn it in at the end of class. Hermione normally would have had no trouble at all with this potion, but she just felt so out of it. She could feel Snape's eyes on her almost constantly throughout the double class period. Every time she looked up and met his eyes his expression was even harder to figure out. She concluded that he was probably just conflicted about everything that he'd seen. For a few moments she wondered if perhaps he pitied her.
The class passed slowly, and Hermione barely managed to finish her potion in time due to her lack of concentration. She had to bottle it and rush up to Snape's desk at the very last second, handing it to him for evaluation just as the bell rang. He now looked at her with the typical snide expression. "Close call, Miss Granger," was the only thing he said.
Defense Against the Dark Arts class was the other problematic part of Hermione's routine. At first, she had been anxious to see Remus. The strange part was that when he entered the classroom it all just faded away. Hermione recognized the calming sensation as the same one she had experienced in the Hospital Wing when Remus and Dumbledore entered. She decided that she had to ask him about it later, or at least do some research.
Despite this onset of tranquility, DADA was still hard to get through. Remus avoided looking at Hermione at all costs, and each time she raised her hand and he was forced to call on her she saw the pain in his eyes. If there was anything that Hermione wanted right now, it was for that sadness and self-hatred to go away. He was a sensitive man, and he didn't deserve the pain that all of this was putting him through.
It was with these thoughts in mind that Hermione decided to visit Remus in his office the following evening. She knocked on his office door at precisely five o'clock. The hinges creaked as it opened, revealing her harried looking professor.
"Hermione," said Remus, a look of surprise etched across his face for just a moment.
"Hello, Professor," she smiled politely.
He watched her closely for a couple seconds. It was only when Hermione shifted awkwardly that he appeared to realize what he was doing. "I'm sorry, come in." He stepped back and allowed her to enter his office. "You know what?" he continued, looking around with an expression of unease, "Why don't we go into my quarters and have some tea? It's better in there."
Hermione nodded mutely, following behind as he led her through another door, into a warm and homely sitting area. It wasn't long before she was sitting across from him in front of the fireplace, a warm cup of tea in her hands.
"Is everything alright?" he asked uncomfortably. She could tell how much effort he was putting into schooling his expression. To be fair, though, Hermione was doing the same thing. They both had emotions that needed to be buried.
"Yes, everything's fine," Hermione replied quickly, "I just- well I have a few questions…"
"Of course," he obliged, sitting up straighter in an obvious attempt to look more like the professor that he was.
Pushing past her nervousness, Hermione began to explain what she had been feeling over the past few days. The strange bouts of calmness were something that he immediately picked up on, nodding like he'd been feeling the exact same thing.
"It's a werewolf thing." He winced at the realization that he'd said the "W" word, but must have decided that her unchanged expression meant it was okay to say it. "In my time spend with various packs and around other non-hostile werewolves I've noticed it too."
Hermione was intrigued. "How does it work?"
He shrugged. "Nobody is quite sure. Frankly, not many people care enough about us to want to conduct any experiments or studies on aspects of Lycanthropy like this. There's barely enough research surrounding the Wolfsbane to completely understand what it is about the plant that affects the body."
He was getting into his lecturing mode. It was nice for Hermione to see such a normal side of him coming back. "It must be magical, right?"
He nodded. "From what I've heard and how I've come to interpret things, it probably has something to do with the magical aura of werewolves. There are a lot of very ancient and strange types of magic that nobody completely understands."
"Like blood magic."
"I suppose so, yes."
Hermione took a sip of her tea, staring down at the steaming liquid to distract herself. "It feels so… tangible," she mused, "like there's a spell being actively cast on me." She closed her eyes for a moment and focused on that constant rush of what could almost be described as contentedness. When she considered it this way – as something more positive and comforting rather than unknown and frightening – she felt more inclined than ever to stay here in his sitting room for as long as she could.
Remus hummed in agreement, and Hermione remembered that he was feeling the exact same thing as her. He absently traced the rim of his mug with a finger.
"You know," he finally spoke, his eyes now roving over the bookshelves to his left, "I have quite a few books about lycanthropy that might be helpful to you. Of course, you may have read all of them already."
Hermione's eyes lit up. "I'd love to read some of them," she said earnestly, "and there isn't that much in-depth reading material on this subject in the Hogwarts library."
He smiled softly. "By all means, then, take a look."
Hermione slowly went through all of the various titles he had, trying to prolong her time here as much as she could but also quite enjoying Remus' short summarizations of all of the books. Judging by the relaxed way he was leaning back in his armchair, he was feeling better as well.
Hermione ended up with four hefty tomes, and he promised her that she could trade them in for more any time she wanted. She left his rooms significantly happier than before, even if the calming sensation of his proximity did fade away as she made her way back to her dormitory.
"Hermione," Ron called out, leaning away from Lavender and across the table, "will you help me with my Transfiguration essay after dinner?"
Hermione was somewhat surprised that Ron was asking this of her. They hadn't spent any real time together since he and Lavender got together in January. Now, she was faced with him actually reaching out to her for help with schoolwork, and Harry and Ginny were both sitting here to experience it as well.
"I don't know, Ron," Hermione sighed, glancing down at the beef stew in front of her. The Great Hall was overrun with the chatter of dinnertime. "I was kind of hoping to have an early night…"
"Please, Hermione," Ron persisted, "McGongall's been brutal lately and I haven't asked you for help in weeks."
She knew that it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to help Ron, but she'd just been so tired lately. Plus, every time she was around her friends there was the persistent worry that they might find out what had changed in her.
"It's true," Harry spoke up, "I don't think you've been to the Common Room for weeks."
She felt cornered. Even Ginny was watching her curiously. "I was in the common Room last Wednesday," she retorted, a hint of defensiveness creeping up in her tone.
"Head Girl duties don't count," Harry murmured pointedly.
Hermione exhaled slowly, trying to calm her temper. The short temper was another change she noticed in herself recently. She'd always been rather quick to anger, but now it was even worse. She often had to remind herself to stamp it down, take a few deep breaths.
Everyone was still watching her closely, and Hermione decided that she needed some fresh air. "Well I'm sorry that I have a busy life, Harry," she said, standing up form the table and shrugging her bag over her shoulder, "I just can't spend my all evenings lounging around in the common room like a bunch of third years. You all are welcome to accompany me to the library any time you want to study for N.E.W.T.s, and you can bring your transfiguration work, Ron."
Harry was watching her strangely as she made her way out of the Great Hall. One quick glance at the Head Table told her that Remus had also noticed her retreat. She made her way through the corridors briskly, soon arriving at the portrait of Artemis.
"Back from dinner early?" the portrait chimed.
"Yes," Hermione breathed, fixing a few wild hairs so that she didn't look so upset in case Evan was inside.
As per usual, Artemis began his rambling. "I had a positively invigorating conversation about Reproductivity Magic today with some Slytherin boy. Those Slytherins are really quite refreshing to speak with."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "A Slytherin?" The Slytherin Common Room was probably about as far away as you could get from Artemis' portrait, and Slytherin students rarely traveled down this particular path to get to their classes.
"Yes!" Artemis grinned, "A Prefect, said he was doing his rounds. We struck up the most interesting conversation. Did you know that Witter's Theory on Creature Hierarchy was actually founded through studying the mating habits of Mountain Trolls? It's quite ironic, actually, because-"
"Artemis," Hermione interrupted, not meaning to sound so harsh but also knowing that he would go on forever if she allowed it. "Who was it? What did he look like?" Of all the Slytherin Prefects, she couldn't think of any that were assigned to patrol this portion of the school today.
Artemis huffed a little and crossed his arms. "Oh, it was that seventh year. You know- the one with the white hair who always looks so angry and tired."
"Draco Malfoy?" she murmured.
The portrait shrugged. "I don't know his name, but getting back to the Mountain Trolls…"
Hermione allowed him to ramble on for a solid two minutes, figuring that she owed him at least a little kindness. It also allowed her a moment to inspect her surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and there was no way Malfoy could have gotten past Artemis and into her dormitory without him mentioning it. So why was Malfoy snooping around here? Hermione felt a shiver of fear, and for a moment she wondered if Malfoy was trying to capture her so his father could have another chance at taking care of her.
Footsteps coming from behind made Hermione jump. She immediately withdrew her wand and pointed it at the approaching figure.
"Hermione?" a voice called. "Oh, there you are," the form of Ginny Weasley stepped out of the shadows, "why do you have you wand out?"
Hermione let out a breath of relief, dropping her arm. "Sorry, Ginny."
"Are you okay?" Ginny's look of confusion morphed into one of concern. "Harry's a bit concerned and so am I, frankly. Can I come inside?"
"Yeah, of course." Hermione turned to Artemis, "Asphodel."
The portrait swung open, Artemis giving each of the girls a cheerful smile as they passed through. Hermione let herself fall languidly onto the couch, the exhaustion catching up to her. Ginny went to sit in one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace. "Is Barlow here?" she asked, looking around for any traces of the Head Boy.
"No, Evan hosts a study group in the Ravenclaw Common room on Thursdays." Hermione smiled indignantly, "maybe I should take some tips from him, huh?"
"Don't let what Ron and Harry say get to you," Ginny waved her hand dismissively, "we all need a little break from each other at times. Besides, I understand not spending time in the Common Room when you have a place like this." The redhead petted the leather of the armchair affectionately. Hermione had to admit: it was a nice space. There was a fireplace, two desks, and enough room for Evan and herself to not get irritated by the other.
"But I have been neglecting you guys," she conceded, "and I'm sorry. It's just… well, you know- N.E.W.T.s and schoolwork and… everything."
"Don't worry about it Hermione," Ginny said earnestly. "You know that you can talk to me, though, right? If you ever need me; I want to make sure you know that."
Hermione felt a terrible ache in her chest. She wanted so badly to confess everything to Ginny, to allow the tears to run free. But she couldn't. Ginny might let something slip to Harry or Ron or Mrs. Weasley. She didn't want this secret to get out while Remus was still in such a fragile state.
Hermione smiled, "I know, thanks." Ginny was really a wonderful friend. Over the years they'd bonded gradually, and it was only recently (when Ginny and Harry started dating) that Hermione realized how great of a person Ginny truly was.
"Well, I should go," Ginny stood, "I told Harry I'd be back in a few minutes."
Hermione said goodbye, soon left alone, staring off into the flickering fire. Her thoughts drifted to Malfoy. She'd have to watch him closely in the future, and possibly ask Remus if Snape had found out anything else about the whole situation. For now, though, she needed to sleep and, more importantly, prepare herself for her first full moon.
Author's Note: I really hope you all are enjoying this so far, and I just love hearing your thoughts. Any predictions on what's going on with Draco? Anything you all want to see happen in the future?