As she stumbled out of the fireplace in Grimmauld Place, Hermione noticed how quickly she regained her footing now. She smiled at Sirius as the senses of the old house washed over her. Dust, mold, and magic. Also, something else she couldn't identify at all. "Hello, Mister Black. Thank you for receiving me so early this morning."

"Sirius, please. Nobody who fought alongside me calls me 'Mister'. And you're welcome." He offered her his hand and as she took it, Hermione noticed his racing heartbeat as well as the increase in physical strength. The past few weeks had done the heir of House Black good, but he was nervous. "To be honest, I'd probably still be sleeping, but Harry kicked me out of my bed hours ago. I've never seen him this excited about anything before." Now she knew what that order smell had been. It was Sirius, and it wasn't entirely human... it had a strange canine quality and was probably related to his Animagus ability.

She chuckled as she removed some ash from her clothes with the swish of her wand. "Ah, yes. I hope he didn't badger Professor Lupin... I mean, Remus, too much? I appreciate that he agreed to meet me at all, and I don't want him to believe he owes me something."

"That is very kind of you, Miss Granger." Sirius's smile vanished. "But it'll be a long time until Moony can look at you and not be ashamed of himself."

Hermione noticed that he kept good eye contact and didn't stare at her scars or her hair. Probably some of that Pureblood education. She glanced to the corner with Walburga's portrait, but it was covered. "Please call me Hermione," she said.

"Of course, Hermione. Shall we go upstairs? Harry's probably wearing out the carpet as we speak."

As they walked up, Hermione felt the other two men in her sinuses. There was Remus, whose scent reminded her of her grandfather... dry and somehow ligneous, with a hint of musk. There was also a faint but sharp aroma that spoke of anxiety or fear, probably adrenaline or cortisol if she wasn't mistaken. So Remus really felt as bad as Sirius had said. Then there was Harry, and she would've recognized his scent everywhere. Warm, sweet... and that hint of foreign earthy spice that was specific to him. Something you could breathe in and feel good and safe and...

"Hermione? Is everything all right?" He was looking at her.

She shook herself out of it. "Oh, sorry, Mister Bl... I mean, Sirius. It's still a bit distracting sometimes when I come to a new place, or rather, a place I haven't visited since... the bite."

He nodded in understanding. "You're probably smelling my old socks right now because Kreacher is just the worst housekeeper."

Hermione frowned, but since Sirius was about to open the door behind which she could already hear the heartbeats of Harry and Remus, she stopped herself from going on that particular tangent. She'd definitely talk with him about the treatment of that old house-elf, though.

Harry was indeed walking in front of the small table set up in the guest room, and Hermione had to suppress a smile. Remus, who'd already noticed her scent as she had his, looked at her with a pale face. He seemed to have aged prematurely, with new gray streaks in his dark brown hair and sorrow edged into the skin around his eyes. He did hide the anxiety that she was sensing well, though.

"Our guest has arrived," Sirius said. "Since everyone here is familiar with each other, I'll skip the introductions."

Harry's deadpan look caused her to chuckle, which in return made Harry look at her again. His green eyes were so bright... after that night in the dungeons, she'd seen them in her dreams almost every single night. They called to her on an instinctual level that she didn't quite understand yet, and it caused her to have certain new thoughts about her best friend. She took a deep breath.

"Hello, Remus, Harry. Thank you for meeting me." She didn't approach him as she sensed nervousness rolling off of him. "I hope Harry already explained that I'm not here to have you apologize to me because that isn't necessary. It was an accident. But I have so many questions, and you can probably help me answer them, so... "

Lupin didn't answer but nodded. Harry stepped out of the way between them and looked at Sirius expectantly.

"All right, we're going to leave you two alone, since I know Moony is a bit shy to show his furry side in public." Sirius yelped when Harry elbowed him. "Anyway, just holler if you need something. We're serving lunch at around 1 o'clock."

"Thank you, Remus," Harry said as they turned to walk out. "I appreciate it." He gave her another look and smiled. "See you later?"

After the door closed, Hermione felt as if both Remus' and her... spheres for lack of a better term expanded and rubbed against each other. There was an almost visceral friction in the room that made her skin itch. But the moment passed and Remus sighed.

"Sorry for that, I... didn't think. Miss Granger, I... "

"Hermione." She looked him in the eyes and tried to convey her absence of anger. "Harry said he wanted us to use first names, now that we both are... so familiar with each other." She felt embarrassment rise up on her cheeks.

But Remus smiled, if only slightly so. "His sense of humor has somewhat deteriorated since he met Sirius, hasn't it?"

"Those two are a bloody plague upon the world when they're together for more than an hour," she mumbled.

"I take it you're not here to talk about Harry, though?" Remus still smiled.

Hermione looked down at the floor. "No, I... I mean... it's all still overwhelming at times." She breathed in and took in his scent, the smell of the room, of the ancient drawers, whatever it was that crawled around in the bottom-most drawer of the cupboard behind them, the detergent on her jeans that her mum had brought yesterday. "I could really use your help."

"I will do everything I can," Remus whispered. "But I don't think I'm a good personal tutor, Hermione. Especially right now and after what I did to you..."

"Stop. I don't blame you, at all. We all knew you had forgotten the Wolfsbane Potion that night and didn't do a thing about it when we walked outside. You weren't yourself at the time."

A sense of tiredness washed over his face. "But you know how I might feel after what Harry did the night you turned, right?"

Hermione nodded. "If I had bitten him or... worse... I'd never forgive myself. That was the most stupid thing I've ever seen, and I certainly told him so."

"So how can you expect me to sit here and look at you, after what I did? To me, the worst thing already happened. I lost control and attacked you, a student, and Harry's best friend. Cursed you to live like this." He lowered his head into his hands.

She sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Please, forgive yourself, Remus. I did."


"You wanted to see me, Professor McGonagall?"

"I do. Please shut the door and take a seat, Miss Granger." Her teacher closed a ledger she'd been writing in and motioned Hermione to come closer.

She sat down on the chair in front of the desk and stared at the older woman. Her scent was in some way similar to Sirius', but completely different in other ways. A cat Animagus versus a dog Animagus, Hermione thought. Unlike Sirius, her teacher appeared to be concerned about her, though.

"Miss Granger, you've been given a Time-Turner in your fifth year to accommodate your intense study load. Beyond the mandatory report that you gave me at the end of last school year, have you misused this device for your personal gain or broken any of the rules set by the Ministry?"

This was pretty much the last thing Hermione had expected to be asked about. "Never. I always followed the rules, Professor McGonagall, even when I was tempted to do otherwise. But I never used time travel to do something inappropriate."

Her Head of House nodded but gave a weak smile as she noticed Hermione's distress. "I am sorry, Miss Granger. I didn't ask you because I personally think you did anything wrong but rather because I was ordered to do so."

"What does that mean?"

McGonagall sighed. "The Ministry has taken an... interest in you, Miss Granger. Certain members of the Wizengamot are uncomfortable with the idea that someone... such as yourself has access to a Time-Turner, let alone in a virtually unsupervised capacity such as we've practiced at Hogwarts until now."

She already knew where this was going, but Hermione couldn't help herself. "I've been a model student, professor! Just because I was bitten and have turned into a werewolf, I am not trustworthy anymore? I am using my Wolfsbane Potions! What happened with Harry wasn't my fault!"

The older woman raised a hand to stop her. "Please, Miss Granger. You don't have to convince me, you never had to. I would've never brought this up but the Headmaster was ordered by the Ministry to... intervene on behalf of public concern. And he asked me to speak to you."

Hermione tried to fight back the tears. "You're taking it away from me, aren't you?" she whispered.

"Sadly, yes." Her Head of House closed her eyes for a second. "To be straightforward with you, Miss Granger: you are to surrender the Time-Turner to me or there will be charges filed against you. I really am very sorry about it."

"How am I... I... what about my classes, professor? I need it to keep my schedule, I can't attend Magical Theory and Alchemy otherwise."

McGonagall seemed as if she wanted to say one thing but decided to give voice to something else instead. "You'll need to drop those extra classes then, Miss Granger. I'll speak with the other professors about allowing you to sit for the final exams anyway but that'll be it, I'm afraid. It's just not possible for you to double-book your school days this way anymore."

This perceived betrayal was in some way even worse than the horrible things Draco had said about her the past few weeks and Hermione quietly sobbed as she removed the chain with the artifact from her neck to put it on McGonagall's desk. Had her studiousness and her good grades ever brought her anything other than grief? "Will that be all, Professor McGonagall?" She sniffed and wiped her eyes angrily.

"That'll be all, Miss Granger. Please don't think that I personally ever..."

"We can't all be Harry Potter." Her eyes found her older woman's and saw a pained expression. "Exceptions are only made for those who have a place in the Ministry's or the Headmaster's plans, and I'm not exceptional. Just... a dangerous animal now."

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall appeared to be dismayed rather than angry.

She stood up. "Like Voldemort's name, the truth sounds ugly when spoken out loud, doesn't it? Don't grief on my behalf, Professor McGonagall. I know what I can expect of the Wizarding World from here on out." She never looked back as she left the office.


The previous days had been uncomfortably hot and humid, so Hagrid's announcement that they'd have a few special nighttime classes in Care of Magical Creatures before the summer holidays was met with a lot of enthusiasm. Word was he was housing something huge in another clearing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest to show them, something dangerous.

Hermione was looking forward to a trip into the forest because she'd felt it calling out to her. The afternoon strolls she'd made along the borders of the Hogwarts grounds, often with Harry, had been calming and yet also luring. Part of her wanted to just leave everything behind and run into the shadows, to scent and to hunt and to... well.

So far, the day had been emotionally taxing because she'd seen Ginny make yet more advances on Harry. It made her hackles rise like never before. Similar to but also unlike the awkward dance around the idea of a romance she'd had with Ron last year, Ginny had long been star-struck in Harry's presence, too shy to say anything but three words and then flee. That had changed.

And something in Hermione didn't like it, didn't like it at all.

When Harry smiled at Ginny and leaned into her during breakfast or dinner in the Great Hall when she told a joke, her knuckles had gone white as she'd almost crumpled her cutlery. In the quiet of her own mind she could admit that she'd never liked when the other girls at Hogwarts intruded on her special friendship with Harry, but this... she wanted to violently pull him to her side, breathe his scent in and let her inner wolf roar in anger at the redhead girl. See her flinch away, just like her brother.

It was her scent.

Hermione had learned quite painfully that her enhanced senses told her a lot of new things about the other students at Hogwarts, and many of those things were... private. Like the faint aroma of arousal that came off of Ginny whenever she'd held onto Harry's arm just a moment too long. She didn't really want to know all these intimate things about Ron's sister and other girls in such excruciating detail, but here she was now, being a werewolf.

A Ginny-hating werewolf.

It didn't help that she also still felt somewhat resentful of Harry for losing her Time-Turner. He didn't know about it yet and would probably get himself expelled on her behalf if he'd ever find out why her access had been revoked, but it still hurt. Hermione knew it was unreasonable to be angry at him for this, to feel jealous of the utilitarian value both the Headmaster and the Ministry were ascribing to her friend. Just him, though, not her.

She wasn't ordinary anymore, but she was the wrong kind of special now.

"Hey, is everything okay? Are you having a headache?" Harry often lowered his voice now when he spoke to her because he knew how keen her ears had become. Undercurrents of unreasonable anger aside, she thought it was endearing, considering that he loved to slip into the role of a rough and rowdy Quidditch player when the chance presented itself.

"No, Harry, I'm fine. Just making checklists for all the things I need to study during the holidays and trying to tune out the noise at the same time."

"Okay." He smiled and winked at her, probably knowing that she'd lied about her well-being the same way he did all the time. He hadn't stopped paying close attention to her since his visit to St. Mungo's; in some ways, Hermione could understand why so many students believed they were a couple. Like back in fourth year. She'd heard more than one girl complain to her boyfriend in the Great Hall why he wasn't half as mindful as Harry was of her. It was embarrassing and secretly satisfying at the same time.

Ron caught up with them on the stairs. "So, what do you think it is, Hermione? You must've heard or something, right? Is it a dragon?"

"I haven't heard anything, sorry. I'm going to be just as surprised as everyone else as to what type of creature Hagrid will show us."

"Blimey. I have five galleons on it being a dragon, I'd hoped you would give me the good news."

Harry grunted. "Why didn't you ask her before betting on a dragon, then?"

"Dunno, I just forgot," Ron mumbled.

"Oh, be honest now, Ronald, you're just afraid of me as a werewolf." She sighed. "You only talk to me when Harry's around. You shy away whenever I accidentally get closer than three steps to you, and you haven't asked for help with your homework ever since I was bitten."

The boys looked around nervously at her tirade, but it had gone more or less unnoticed in the chatter of the surrounding groups. "Bloody hell, Hermione." Ron swallowed. "That's... not true!"

"No?" She raised an eyebrow and then purposefully made a step in his direction. The redhead blanched and stepped behind Harry to use him as a shield before he'd even realized what he was doing. "I rest my case." Hermione huffed before she walked on.

Harry groaned. "You are such a hypocrite, Ron. Remus did touch your arm to correct your wand movement all the time in DADA last year, and you were all Yes Sir, No Sir, and she so much as looks in your direction, and you pee your pants? Fuck off, man."

"I didn't mean it, Harry! It's just... her eyes! I can't help but remember that night..."

"You think I don't?" Harry's voice turned even lower and Hermione, now more than a dozen paces away from them, had to focus hard to make out his words in the hallway's murmuring. "How do you think she feels, Ron? Being stared at and judged by everyone? For something that happened to her through no fault of her own? She's still our friend, damn it."

"Why do you care so much what I think anyway? Are you fancying her now? Is that it, Harry?"

She couldn't help but leave their voices behind, hurrying out of the school as tears ran down her cheeks.

She didn't want to be like this, didn't want to be someone people were afraid of even if it gave her power, and made her feel like one with her inner self. She didn't want Harry defending her as a personal white knight whenever someone said mean things about her. She didn't want to deal with Ron's insecurities and obnoxious double standards, either. Part of her didn't want to stop moving now, wanted to run into the night.

When the class finally assembled in the flickering light of the torches Hagrid had set up around his hut, Hermione had calmed down her racing heart if not her emotions. She stood in the back, away from the pairs and trios and groups of Gryffindors and Slytherins around her. She knew Harry would find her eventually, but she didn't seek him out. She needed... space.

"All right everyone, please stay together. We're going west, to the edge of the Forbidden Forest," Hagrid announced, holding Fang on a leash. "There's something special waiting for you there." Even though a few of the Slytherins snorted, most students were excited and followed Hagrid's direction, wandering across the Hogwarts grounds in a long chain with several wands lit by Lumos spells.

Walking way in the back, Hermione suddenly heard a familiar heartbeat and smelled that equally familiar spice.

"Harry."

He walked up to her and reached for her hand without saying anything. She thought about removing hers, but allowed the contact. Despite everything, it was reassuring. They walked a while in silence, listening to the low voices of the others and Hagrid's rumbling bass further up front.

"Do you want to... ?"

"No."

His grip increased a bit, but he respected her wish. Hermione smelled his anger, though, felt it coursing through his veins, and knew his eyes were blazing. Not at her, but at the git she'd thought of as a friend who was walking a dozen or so meters in front of them.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Don't be. I can defend myself, you know? And he's not the only one. Maybe I don't belong here anymore, Harry."

He swallowed hard. "Please don't say that."

Finally, after stepping into the shadows of the huge trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they reached a rather large enclosure. Rought wooden beams had been attached to form a solid fence around a square at least 60 paces to each side. Within, there were five tall creatures so magnificent, Hermione felt herself gasp alongside dozens of other students. It wasn't dragons they saw, though.

"Aethonans," she whispered.

The majestic winged horses, normally chestnut brown, appeared almost black in the dim light of the night. They were curious and approached the fence the class had assembled at. Hermione saw strong muscles rippling under their skin as the large animals came closer. Their enormous wings folded with a low wooshing sound as the herd gathered close to allow students to pet or feed them.

Hagrid asked several questions about the Aethonans that Hermione could've easily answered, but her attention was entirely on the animals. She heard the rumble of their strong hearts, the deep sound of their breathing, smelled their faint equine scent... and wanted them. The night was singing to her, calling to her blood to leave behind clothes and ordered thought and just be. To just care about blood and pack and running and strength.

"You can... sense them, can't you?" Harry's voice, barely more than a whisper, felt like a shout and Hermione jerked away from him. She saw the wounded expression on his face, but couldn't explain herself right now as she tried to keep it together. Her senses seemed to be getting away from her.

She wanted to shift, to change, to transform, and just... She needed to control herself right. Hard.

"Hey, Granger, are you about to rut? We knew Potter liked bitches, but we never thought of it quite so literally. Maybe there is something even more repulsing than a simple Mudblood after all." Draco's voice cut through her tumultuous feelings like a hot knife and found her still vulnerable core without error.

Hermione's breath hitched, and she grabbed onto the fence in front of her hard, leaving marks with her slightly elongated nails in the fresh wood.

"Piss off, Malfoy. Just because you're living proof that a squirt of hair gel can actually walk and talk, doesn't mean you need to open your mouth every time you see something you don't understand." Harry stepped between Hermione and the pale Slytherin.

Draco sneered, Crabbe and Goyle at his side. "Of course, you'd defend her, blood traitor. Do you have no shame? She's a beast that needs to be put down, and you... what? Want to fuck this disgusting subhuman thing? As if your father hadn't shamed our community enough."

"Married a cousin recently, Death Eater? How about you shut your mouth before I do it? Or will you simply cry for your daddy again when things get real? Oh wait, isn't Greyback a regular guest at your home nowadays? That'll be awkward, I guess."

"You're dead Potter!"

Hermione breathed harder now, feeling vulnerable and overwhelmed. She wanted to let the werewolf out, hunt the Aethonans, and rip their throats open. Maybe even throw herself onto Draco and his ilk to drink their blood, to beat them to death with their own torn-out arms. But she couldn't, it was forbidden, it was impossible. And yet, the wolf in her demanded an outlet, demanded... something.

"Haha, look, even those stupid horses know she's a mongrel!" Pansy laughed as the Aethonan stallion in the enclosure flinched back from the fence near Hermione and reared up, its massive wings spread wide as it whinnied in her direction. Its aggression was clearly focused on her now as it tried to defend its herd from the perceived danger of a nearby predator.

"Back, everyone, go back! What is happening over there!" Hagrid shouted.

Hermione let go of the fence as if it was a live wire and stumbled backward, into Harry.

"Hermione!"

But she didn't stop, couldn't stop because it was all too much. Too many voices, too much aggression in the air, both prey and enemies all around her, anxiety and hate and fear, and it closed in from all sides. Her heart beat so fast she could feel its rhythm in her ears. Her eyes darted around erratically from animal to student to the forest as panic gripped her. Yet she tried to force the wolf back, to not let her emotions overwhelm her completely because her life would just be over then.

The wild thing within her didn't allow itself to be contained so easily though, and when she didn't let it fight, it forced her to do something else. Anything else. But the only thing she could do other than tear flesh and snarl at her enemies was to run.

So Hermione ran into the night, away from the shouts and the whinnying and from Harry and the Slytherins and Hagrid and those magnificent animals that had seen her exactly for what she was. What she'd become.


Hermione had learned to look in the mirror and not see her face.

Only her hair, and her clothes.

Her face was... she just couldn't. She knew she hadn't been ugly before, if not a Yule Ball queen either. Now, though... she was marked. Marred. Mutilated. The scares were too much. She wasn't strong enough to handle the stares and hateful whispers, Harry's increasing emotional pull, and see herself for what she was, all at the same time.

So on the last evening before the holidays, she was sitting in her dormitory's bathroom, combing her hair while staring off into space.

That was another thing, her hair. It had become longer and thicker, and not only on her head. The downy hair on her neck and between her shoulder blades had grown as well, also on her arms and around her pubic area. It was embarrassing and made her very self-conscious of her body and the myriad of changes that lycanthropy had brutally forced upon her.

She heard Lavender before the girl entered the bathroom. Something about a Quidditch player they'd seen in Hogsmeade a week or so ago and how handsome he was. It was hard to keep track of the interactions between Lavender and Parvati sometimes, even with werewolf senses.

"Oh, hey... Hermione." Lavender's eyes wandered over Hermione's hair, comb, and face. "Sorry if I'm interrupting."

"It's fine, I don't have a headache."

"Okay." Her dorm mate awkwardly gathered whatever toiletries she had come for from her cabinet but hesitated at the door. "Are you... all right, Hermione?"

She didn't stop combing her hair, but made eye contact. Lavender didn't flinch away from her though, she never had. Steady heartbeat, the same scent as always that reminded her of sweet bread and forget-me-nots. "Why wouldn't I be?", Hermione said in a low voice. "School's over."

The blonde inspected her more thoroughly now, her hand leaving the doorknob. "I... I know we haven't been close, Hermione, but... all this dragon-shite you had to deal with recently, and I can see that you're bothered by something. Just know that when you need to talk, we're here. And we won't tattle, not about you."

"Lav? You coming back or what?" Faye's voice. When had she arrived in the dormitory?

"Yeah, just gimme a sec!"

The girls still looked at each other, and something in Hermione's gaze must've set Lavender off. "Hermione." She came closer, then knelt in front of her chair. "Did something happen? Did one of the older students... do anything to you? I know what hideous things some people have been saying about you. You need to come forward of one of those jerks... touched you."

Hermione shook her head. "No, nothing like that. Nobody touched me inappropriately, Lavender." She swallowed and lowered her comb. "I... just... "

"What? Tell me, Hermione. Was it Ron again with that stupid mouth of his?"

She shook her head again, more forcefully, and closed her eyes. "No, yes... but not... I mean..." Lavender's sudden earnestness felt overbearing yet at the same time she wanted to just let go and take the hand offered to her. To be honest, her dorm mates had been nothing but supportive of her. How many invitations to chat with the other girls had she rejected recently? "I don't know how to go on, Lavender. How to be me, be... this." She pointed at her face, at the faint scar lines that criss-crossed her entire body now.

"Merlin, no. Hermione! No, that's not right, you're beautiful. Always have been, ever since first year. You believe you're disfigured? You have abs, Hermione! Wanna see my stretch marks? Why do you think I'm not wearing those hot pants anymore? Or that shirt I had last year? Damn." Before she could react, Lavender turned to the door. "Girls! Everyone! We have an emergency! Hermione needs help."

Then she took Hermione's hand. "You're one of us, Hermione. And you're awesome. If the boys at this school can't see that, that's their problem."


She'd recognized Harry's scent before he rang and cut her last-minute hairdressing short. It was hopeless, anyway. "I'll get the door, mum!"

"Okay." Elizabeth Granger smirked as Hermione ran past her.

"Stop it, mum."

She opened the front door and saw Harry, fidgeting awkwardly with his hands. He was wearing a black t-shirt she didn't recognize, also washed-out jeans and new trainers. It blew her away how different he looked. How... tall.

"Hey." His eyes took her in, and it was apparent that he liked what he was seeing. Hermione felt a blush coming and shook herself out of it.

"Harry! You made it! Come in." She hugged him quickly and pulled him inside without so much as waiting for an actual response. Her mum was already hovering in the background, so Hermione decided to bite the bullet as quickly as possible. "This is my mom. Mom, you've met Harry."

"Years ago, I'm afraid." Elisabeth Granger stepped up to shake Harry's hand with a smile, albeit one that was different from the one she'd given her daughter beforehand. "It's good to see you, Harry. Oh my, how you've grown. Did you get here all by yourself?"

"Good day, Miss Granger. Thanks for inviting me over. No, Sirius, my godfather, accompanied me since Dumbledore... I mean, our Headmaster, didn't want me to walk around London on my own. I'll get picked up later as well." Harry's nervousness hadn't abated and Hermione tried hard to stop herself to grab his still-fidgeting hands, but she'd never hear the end of it.

Her mother narrowed her eyes slightly. "Why does your Headmaster involve himself in what you're doing during the summer holidays, Harry?"

"Err... it's rather complicated to explain that, I'm afraid." He grimaced slightly, his cheeks now as red as Hermione feared her own ones to be.

"Mum, stop pestering him about his private life! He gets enough of that during school."

"I didn't mean it like that, Hermione. It's just..." Her mother sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry. She's right, that was rude of me."

"It's okay, Miss Granger. Maybe I can explain it later?"

"Only if you feel comfortable doing so! How about I make us some tea and biscuits? I'm sure Hermione can't wait to show you her room, maybe even the rest of the house."

She groaned. "Mom..."

Elizabeth wasn't fazed though and smiled a little smile as she turned to go to the kitchen. "I'll see you in a few?"

"Of course, Miss Granger. Thank you."

"Harry, stop encouraging her. Let's go." She finally grabbed his hand and dragged him behind her up the stairs.

"You know the rules, Hermione!" Her mum's voice from the kitchen sounded amused.

Hermione huffed. "I do!" she yelled back and turned to him with an apologetic expression. "Sorry, my parents are... a bit crazy about you visiting, to be honest. Even more so now that I'm a were'."

Harry, who'd observed their interactions with quiet amusement, cocked his head. "What rules?"

She shook her head as they approached her room. "Insane parenting stuff. Like, I have to leave all the doors open. What do they think is going to happen here? Honestly." She didn't miss how his eyes darted quickly to her lips and her chest as she said that. Which in return stopped her own train of thought for a full second before she got a grip on herself.

"Anyway, here we are. Please excuse the mess."

She watched him slowly step inside her room, taking in every detail between the huge bookshelves, her tidy desk, and the bed underneath the large window. Crookshanks, wo was sitting in his pillow, observed Harry's arrival with something akin to disapproval. "Oh, wow. This is awesome." Seeing her room being scrutinized by him like that made Hermione feel self-conscious, but not in a bad way. Part of her hoped he'd like it, even though she wasn't keen on asking why exactly she was feeling this way. "What mess, though? You're having me on, right?"

She shuffled her feet. "It's so stuffed in here, and I always feel as if I should get rid of some of my older books, but... I just can't."

He turned to her, astonishment written on his face. "You're insane, Hermione. This room is perfect, and it's so... you. Wouldn't change a thing about it."

"Oh, stop it, Harry."


They'd already passed a dozen shelves filled with milky glass orbs when Hermione felt the hair on her arms and neck rising. Something was... off. She tried to tune out the distant sounds of battle between Remus and the others against the Death Eaters' welcoming party and focused her senses on the room. There was... someone.

"What is it?" Harry's low voice, to her left. He was crouching near the shelf behind her, his wand and eyes scanning the surrounding twilight nervously.

She held up a finger, and he immediately shushed Luna and the others to be as quiet as possible. Hermione felt strengthened by his trust and pushed through the anxiety that was beginning to take hold of her to turn it into aggression instead.

There.

A faint scent, sharp but familiar. That was... how Draco smelled. Not exactly, but similar.

Hermione didn't believe the weasel to be here but suspected his father might be. And if that was the case, then there'd be others as well. This was a trap. Well-prepared too, she had to admit, because she didn't hear heartbeats or breathing other than her friend's. Or smelled anything other than that very faint trace of Malfoy. But she felt something, the atavistic part of her mind going into overdrive to pick apart the most minuscule of details her subconscious was noticing right now.

Therefore, it wasn't with conscious thought that she let her inner wolf take a foothold.

There was a brief pain in her fingertips as her nails grew longer and sharper. Her pupils widened, and the twilight was replaced by clear black-and-white impressions. Her gums started to itch as her canines became more prominent as well.

"Harry." Her voice was lower now, rougher.

He crouched up behind her, and she felt the warmth of his body near her skin. "Is this a trap?" he whispered.

She nodded, not taking her attention away from the seemingly deserted shelves in front of them. "There are Death Eaters here, hidden. They're probably going to ambush us as soon as we find your prophecy."

"Damn." He took a breath. "Then we proceed as planned?" She nodded again and then felt his hand on her shoulder. "Please be careful, Hermione. I... you... just be careful."

This made her turn around to him, and she saw a range of complex emotions on his face as the tiny muscles around his eyes and his lips contracted and relaxed in quick succession. His gaze was full of concern and... protectiveness. He'd looked like that when he'd hugged her in St. Mungo's. The last time she'd partially transformed like now, before the holidays and this ill-advised adventure deep down in the bowels of the Ministry, people around her had started to back away and pointed fingers. Harry didn't even look at anything but her eyes right now with a burning intensity.

"You too, Harry. Let's be quick before the others get into too much trouble."

Then she ran down the shelf, ducking down behind the fully stacked boards at the bottom, her feet making no more sound than a faint whisper.

Part of Hermione enjoyed being on the hunt like this very much. She also recognized a feeling of loss as she left the scent of her friends behind because that was her familiar setting, her... pack. She didn't like using terms like that for her social life, but the parallels were just there.

She stopped her dash behind a cabinet at the end of the massive shelf unit beside her and breathed in deeply.

There was a presence in front of her... no, two, in fact. Not sound or smell or heat, but the absence of all of those things. Two humanoid-shaped black holes in the whispering darkness of this room. Behind her, Harry was talking to Neville, Ginny, Luna, and Hannah. They were casting Lumoses now and started scanning the shelves, being very obvious in their search.

The disillusioned Death Eaters shifted, and Hermione noticed another one two rows over. She wouldn't be surprised if the same number was hiding on the other side of the central walkway. Harry and she had discussed possible ways to hold off a larger number of opponents after seeing this room's plans the evening Dumbledore had greenlit this mad heist of the Order. Being here in the flesh was something completely different, though.

A distant explosion and a man's yelling somewhere far behind her reminded Hermione that they didn't have time to waste.

She looked at the cabinet and pushed it ever so slightly. It wasn't attached to the shelves. Another push made her gauge its weight at about 350 lb. and that opened up a tactical opportunity. Her last foray into the Forbidden Forest before the holidays had revealed that she was able to lift quite a lot of mass if necessary. At least, when she had half-transformed, or shifted, as Remus had called it.

"Harry, I think I have it! Your name is written on this one!" Ginny's voice broke through the silence. She was performing the part of an overexcited student perfectly.

The Death Eaters began moving immediately, but so did Hermione.

Her claws dug into the ancient wood as she lifted the cabinet and pulled it up, causing its contents to shift with an almost deafening noise of broken glass and metal clangs. The two disillusioned Death Eaters stopped closing in on Harry and her friends, but were unable to react because she'd already hurled the entire thing down the aisle. The cabinet flattened the first one and shattered on impact with the other, but Hermione was already running over to where she'd noticed the third Death Eater hiding before.

"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Her opponent had switched places though and their counter came from on top of the line of shelves of all places. "Crucio!" Hermione dodged and rolled on the floor, her movement pure instinct now.

In the middle of the room, Harry and the others were blasting their own spells now.

Their battle was in full swing.

"You're the fucking werewolf-Mudblood! Abomination! Avada Kedavra!"

A fresh wave of adrenaline rushed through Hermione as she dodged yet another Unforgivable. She didn't recognize her opponent's voice, but he was a male. And he meant business, even knowing her name... But despite his tactical advantage, standing on top of the row of shelves firing down at her, he was still surrounded by dozens of prophecies. Dozens of glass orbs.

Hermione darted to her left, then right, then jumped up high to her left again to confuse him and elevate her firing position for a moment, raising her wand in motion. "Reducto!"

The man screamed as the surrounding prophecies exploded, shredding his legs with hundreds of shards. She winced as some of those rained down on her and the floor, followed by a heavy thud as the Death Eater fell down as well.

She immediately knew he'd broken his neck and felt her stomach churn, but there was no time to feel bad because Harry was still in trouble.

Hermione ran toward the yelling and the flickering lights of curses that lit the Department of Mysteries.


"You will lie in this bed until I come back, Mister Potter, is that understood? No walking, no moving, no strenuous activity at all. Your leg needs to heal."

Harry glanced at Hermione and Professor McGonagall, then gave Madame Promfrey a resigned look. "All right, I won't."

"Good." The school's healer threw a disapproving glance toward Hermione. "The Headmaster asked me to accompany him on another visit since, apparently, Mister Moody isn't feeling so good. The Hospital Wing will be closed until I come back."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "You can't lock Harry up in here!"

"And she won't, Miss Granger." Her Head of House stepped forward. "But we need to give Mister Potter the chance to rest. He won't be alone in Hogwarts, Professor Sinistra will check on him in an hour. If you like, I can bring you back to your parent's house now."

"But... can I... talk with Harry first? It's about homework."

Professor McGonagall didn't give anything away, but Hermione didn't think the woman had bought her flimsy excuse for a second. "You have as long as Madame Pomfrey needs to pack her things, Miss Granger."

"It'll only be a few minutes, Minerva. Should I bring the full kit?"

"It's probably a good idea. That stubborn goat won't let any of us check him properly."

The two older women walked away, talking about the aftermath of the Ministry raid.

Harry sighed and crossed his arms as he leaned against his bed's headboard. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"Don't mention it. And I really wanted to talk to you." She shuffled her feet before she decided to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Does your leg really not hurt? I can feel it slightly shaking, Harry."

"Woe is me, I am discovered!" He overplayed by dramatically putting one hand above his heart.

"Stop it. Please let her give you a pain reliever, Harry." She looked him in the eyes. "And a different soap, that stuff you used earlier smells weird."

"Really?" He sniffed under his arm. "Doesn't feel different to me." But he shrugged. "Then again, I don't have your enhanced senses. If you say it's weird, it is."

She smiled. "I knew you'd see my way of things eventually."

His expression grew serious now. "Thank you, again, for hauling me out of there. And I disagree with Dumbledore, the fact that we didn't manage to let them escape with Luna's decoy doesn't make it a complete disaster. We took out three of them, and Yaxley is a huge loss for Voldemort. Also, Lucius Malfoy won't join another raid anytime soon. Mostly thanks to you."

Hermione frowned. "Are you happy that I hurt them? That I... killed, Harry?"

She heard how he stopped his breathing for a moment as his heartbeat increased. "I don't know, to be honest." He looked to the side, but McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey were still busy in the office. "I am not sad those arseholes are dead. If that makes me a terrible person, so be it. But after what happened to Fleur and Colin, I won't use simple stunners and turn the other cheek when my opponents have no qualms using Unforgivables like it's going out of style."

She saw the honesty and the righteous fury on Harry's face and tried to let his words sink in.

"But I hate that you had to kill, Hermione. That you were the one forced to end those lives."

"I'm not an innocent damsel in distress, Harry."

He held up a hand. "I know that, Hermione. I know. I'll never prevent you from fighting your own battles again, I promised. And I meant it. But I won't stand by and be indifferent either. You're the most important person in the world to me." He swallowed, and she noticed how his scent increased in strength as he began to sweat slightly. "Especially now that... "

Whatever he was going to say was cut short by Madame Pomfrey. "Miss Granger, we're leaving!"

Hermione nimbly jumped off Harry's bed as she started blushing. "Of course. Thank you for letting us talk." She turned to him one last time. "I'll write you."

"Looking forward to it, Hermione."