The picture that accompanies this story is posted on Ao3 with same chapter number
Hermione perked as her master rose for the day, and she was there at his side the moment he did, nose snuffling and tail wagging in happy greeting.
Long ago, Tobias had stopped putting fragile things around the bedside. Her tail was a menace to all things breakable.
She slid her tail under the covers and tugged them off, panting with excitement for the beginning of the day.
His taloned hand thumped against her head, rubbing gently even as he gave a low, rumbling groan. "Must you be such a—punctual hellhound?"
Hermione whined softly, tail swishing.
She bounded over to the cloak stand and jostled Walter awake. The Lethifold seemed to yawn and stretch, and for a creature that didn't really have a mouth as much as he had many, many teeth, it was amusing to her.
Walter slithered onto her head and neck, and she trotted back over to the bed to deliver sleepy Lethifold to equally sleepy master.
She wagged her tail harder as Walter slid over onto Tobias, wrapping him up and changing himself into presentable clothes.
With a whine, she tugged on Walter's "sleeve" to encourage her master to exit the bed that seemed to have its own force of gravity no matter the time of day.
GrrrRRr, she rumbled, trying to get him going.
Tobias face was a mess of hair, his long black hair covering his face so only his half-lidded crimson eyes stared through the curtains of black hair.
Hermione stuck her nose in and gave him a morning slurp.
Suddenly, his arm flashed around her and hoisted her into the bed, arm pinning her to his body as he drew the duvet over himself with a surge of magic.
Hermione felt the warm comforting embrace of her master and the sleepy Lethifold come down upon her like a wave of crushing comfort.
Well—maybe a lie-in wouldn't be so bad—
She snuggled into her master's body and closed her eyes, her sinuous tail wrapping around his waist for reassurance. Ever since she'd been a pup, she'd always felt safe tucked against her master's body, even when she grew much bigger. In her first days, he had always protected her from the world, hiding her in his pack when was small, and later when he had to serve the obligations of politics, she would hide under his desk, her tail wrapped steadfastly around his ankle to reassure herself that her master wasn't being absconded with, attacked, or politically assassinated.
She sniffed his food for poison.
Guarded him as he slept.
Protected him for daggers in the dark.
So when her master had been Turned, Hermione had come with him—the first to drink his blood in the bond that would carry them both into the future.
Kept him from killing Sanguini and Rada during the Roman invasion of Dacia—
They turned out to be his best friends, afterall.
How did she know?
She didn't know. It was a feeling. A thrum. The same that had brought her into his lap as a runty pup from her larger litter of siblings. Her senses told her.
Who was she to question how her senses worked?
With her tail wrapped around her most favourite person, her master's arm wrapped solidly around her, his face pressed into her fur—
She gave a contented hellhound sigh.
She didn't have to question to know this was the place for her. As it always had been, and always would.