Imminent

I hurt myself today, To see if I still feel, I focus on the pain, The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole, The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away, But I remember everything
(hurt, johnny cash)

March 2006

Hermione stood near the water's edge, the gentle waves lapping just inches from her bare feet. She wiggled her toes in the sand and stared wistfully at the sunrise. One arm gently lay across her abdomen, her hand resting on her side. It was a habit now, formed from repetitively feeling for a healing wound. She let out a deep sigh while feeling the faded scar that marred her left side through her shirt.

She remembered the first time that Remus had made the overly obvious statement the wound would scar. Tears stung her eyes when she saw it in the mirror for the first time. She had grown used to it now, no longer caught off-guard by the realisation that the marks scattered across her body would be there for the rest of her life. It was just one of many she acquired over the years during scuffles.

Everyone knew werewolf wounds rarely fully healed. 

Hermione slowly reached a hand up and traced the three faint lines marking the right side of her face. The marks followed along her hairline, stretching down her face and over her neck, barely missing her eye. She wouldn’t say she was ever truly vain. It simply wasn’t in her nature. Pride in her appearance was different than vanity. Hermione went through her entire life being bullied for her riotous hair, the splash of freckles across her face, and her too-large teeth. She had decided very early on that what sat between her ears was vastly more significant that what she saw in the mirror every day.

No, she wasn’t vain.

It still hurt every time someone yanked on her hair.

It still hurt every time someone called her ugly.

It hurt even worse when someone called her a nightmare when she was eleven and trying to be helpful.

And it hurt when all the effort she put into finally caring about her ridiculous appearance went to waste, all because a stupid little boy got jealous.

Hermione smiled bitterly thinking back to when he had asked her about it.

“Why did you let it bother you so much?”

“Hmm?” she looked up from her textbook, silver eyes boring into her. She was so engrossed in her Ancient Runes essay that she forgot she had company at the table. Her heart felt like it stopped while held in his stare. He reminded her of a cobra waiting to strike.

She blinked several times before remembering he had asked her something. “Sorry? What?”

“Weasley. When he was an absolute arse to you in fourth year. Why let it bother you?”

Hermione sat up straight now, puzzled for a moment. She had put that nasty year behind herself, bottling up the horrible feelings and thoughts. Though, now she remembered that Ron had never actually apologised for what he said. Harry and Ginny scolded him on her behalf while she ignored him for a few weeks. Eventually everything had sort of just returned to normal. 

She did note that her long-time more-than-friends affection that she once had for the redhead had greatly diminished. It had completely disappeared when he had engaged in that overly grotesque public display with Lavender a couple weeks ago. 

She still gagged at the memory.

“I…I dunno. I guess, at the time, his opinion mattered. Because he’s my friend. One of my best friends. So what he thought mattered.”

“Hmm. Friends don’t treat each other like that, Granger,” he leaned over the table and his own textbook, resting his head on his hand. He seemed entirely too relaxed in her opinion. “You’re brilliant enough to know that. You know he was jealous of Krum. Everyone could see it. A blind hag could see it.”

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, “You’ve gone mad. I swear, you’ve truly lost it now. Ron has never shown any interest in me. Sure, he nit-picks and mocks occasionally, but don’t all friends? Which is also usually when he resorts to calling me a swot. Of course, then he grovels for help with homework.”

She giggled uncomfortably when she realised he wasn’t laughing. His gaze made her fidget and she turned her attention back to her textbook, her pen scribbling nonsense furiously. When he didn’t let up, Hermione huffed and raised a brow at him.

“Malfoy? Have you been Petrified?”

He hummed to himself before returning to his own book, “I just don’t understand you sometimes, that’s all. I mean what I said though: friends don’t treat each other like that.”

“Malfoy, you’ve been a prat to me for years. Ron is only occasionally a prat. Do you really have a leg to stand on about his behaviour?

“You have a point. At the very least, I am consistent in my treatment of you. I don’t give you whiplash with my irrational mood swings.”

“By that logic, I guess we definitely weren’t friends then?” she smirked, waiting for the usual snark to be shot back.

“I never wanted to be your friend to begin with. And I still don’t want to be your friend,” he looked up, a sly grin gracing his lips as he emphasised that last word.

Hermione’s mouth opened in shock and heat flooded her face. She quickly looked back to her textbook, unable to meet his gaze. She refused to even chance a glance, the intensity of his gaze heavy like fog. She hated when he said things like this. When he would give her some inkling of hope that there was more. That they could be more.

She bit her lip when she felt a feather light touch against her fingers. Looking up at just her hand, she saw Malfoy’s hand too close to hers. Too close but thankfully hidden by the stack of books on their table. And his fingers were now barely laced with the ends of hers. She chanced a quick flick of her eyes to his. Her blush deepened at the smirk on his lips and the wink he gave her.

She was torn between hating and enjoying these new feelings he was causing. She wanted to enjoy it. But she didn’t want it to be just a fleeting moment while the world around them went to hell in a handbasket. Maybe…just maybe she could push a little?

Chalking it up to Gryffindor courage, she bit her bottom lip and pushed her hand a little further, her fingers now reaching his knuckles. She noticed how his eyes widened a fraction in surprise but then his gaze softened. Hermione continued with her reading. Her heart flipped again when he turned her hand over and gently ran his fingers over her palm and wrist. She couldn’t help the small smile that stayed while Malfoy continued tracing patterns on her skin.

Maybe…just maybe it could be more?

The warm feeling was short-lived as she felt the raised skin on her face again. It always made her heart sink whenever she thought about them.

The three on her face.

Another on the left side of her neck trailing to her shoulder.

Her ear missing a small piece.

And then the other ones…

She wasn’t trying to be vain…

She shook her head and slowly sat down on the sandy beach, feeling the wet sand seep through her jeans, the water still gently licking her toes. Hermione gave in to the tears this time. The brutes were sleeping after their vigorous activities last night so she finally had a moment to breathe. The tears flowed freely but silently. Her sobs should’ve been blubbered or muffled. Instead, not a sound was heard. A sign that the Silencing charm she had cast on herself years ago was still working proficiently. She could let out the anguish without the fear of attracting any attention.

She sobbed for the loss of the last eight years.

She screamed at the loss of friends and family.

If she ever made it back, would they welcome her with open arms? Would they hate her? Would she be alone?

She knew they were aware of the liaison; they had to be for the Malfoys to stay free. 

Exactly how much he had told them…she would find that out if she ever made it back to them.

She furiously wiped at the tears with the backs of her hands. She looked at them mournfully. Callused and torn. Just like the rest of her. Every moment she had to herself, her mind wandered to how he would react if he saw her now. 

Hermione shook her head.

She was not vain…she wouldn’t be…

Thinking of those things only made everything worse. 

She wondered if Theo had managed to figure out a charm to find her yet. For the last year she had made certain to stay obnoxiously careful and not use magic unless absolutely necessary, especially after the warning that Draco’s team might be working on said charm now. She’d have to thank her friend for the heads up the next time she saw him but who knew when that would be. It made travelling and cooking a decent meal excessively difficult. She risked being found often enough when leaving the messages and locations of the victims. Giving up a few easy comforts to ensure that everyone else stayed as safe as possible? Hermione mentally shrugged at the thought. She’d been dealt worse. Besides, she was muggle-born. She had an entire other world at her disposal where she could stay hidden.

If Theo had figured out a charm, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. The man was ridiculously proficient at spells and charm work, especially creating and modifying. She wouldn't be surprised if he developed something by this point, if his attention had been wholeheartedly invested in it. Most likely, he was preoccupied with the twisted Severing charm that Greyback was using.

Hermione tried to determine how Greyback managed such complicated spell-work. Several times, she was so close to catching the Pack in action casting the charm. By the time she came upon the caravan torturing the next poor soul, the damage was already done. She didn’t know if it was Greyback or someone else casting. She had her suspicions that, while Greyback was a competent wizard, he wasn’t the one responsible for this charm. That led to her next thought: how much more would there be?

She decided to put her melancholy musings aside and delve back into her memories of happier times. For a moment, she refused to imagine the worst-case scenarios of finally seeing everyone again.

Instead, she imagined what they might say if they were with her right now.

“Honestly Hermione, I thought we had a handle on that hair,” Ginny would say, “You would let it just grow and run wild.”

Harry would shake his head, hold her close, and tell her, “We’ve missed you. I missed you. Thank you for coming back.”

“I can’t believe you kept the ferret a secret from us. Bloody hell,” Ron would go on his regular tangents.

And Draco…he would…

Fresh tears burned behind her eyes.

Gods, would he hate her? Would he say he still didn’t care? Just thankful she was alive? 

Would he wrap her up in his arms like she wished for every day of the last six years?

She missed his stupid smirks, the witty banter he would throw her way, the way he would challenge both her mind and duelling skills. She missed his smile, the way his eyes would light up, playing songs for her on the piano. She missed sitting under the stars, listening to his heartbeat—

Hermione shook herself from the reverie and stood, dusting off her jeans. She trudged back up a hill, the tall grass reaching over her waist, the long braid of her hair swinging behind her. Remus’s warnings of not staying in one spot too long, a few hours at the most, echoed in her head. She stretched her neck to the sides and rolled her shoulders. 

She was too exhausted and needed to conserve energy for later. She would just have to suffer walking as human for now. Hermione didn’t mind it too much, though she did prefer the ability to run more freely. Chasing birds was always a small escape into the other headspace. The dirt crunched, tickling the bare soles of her feet as she walked slowly. She sighed and looked to the left, knowing that just over those hills was a small bundle of trees. And inside those trees was the Pack. 

They never stayed in one place long. Sometimes taking up in abandoned houses in the countryside, where thankfully the nearest house was several miles away. They always left behind the most disgusting evidence that the area had been occupied. She shuddered remembering when she’d been dragged through the mess scattered in one house. Taking a proper burning shower hadn’t helped rid herself of the feel of wading through their muck. It was no wonder people looked at werewolves as despicable, nasty creatures. These wolves definitely weren’t helping to eliminate that prejudice.

Hopefully tonight would be quiet…

Her reprieve from the bastards didn’t last very long. 

Much to her annoyance, some of them decided to come out early to “play”. She came across them at a nearby town. Whooping and snarling along the edges of the houses. The townspeople, with no idea what monsters were baiting them, stayed hidden in their homes, terrified. Hermione did the only thing she could to draw them away: she showed herself. She knew Greyback had given orders to capture her on sight. And the idiots followed the command blindly. So, Hermione used that to her advantage. They scrambled after her in an instant, none the wiser that they were doing exactly as she wanted them to.

Her bare feet ached as she leapt over another fallen tree, sticks and rocks cut into the soles. Hermione ignored the pain, focusing on keeping her breathing even, lengthening her strides. Behind her, the sounds of whooping and figures crashing into trees and branches echoed. She could outrun them. She had done it for years; she could still outrun them now when they were only mid-transforming with the moon. Maybe it was a stupid decision to bait and lure them further into the countryside but she needed to keep them away from people. Away from more potential victims. 

She shook her head and kept the bile from crawling out of her throat. She could not get directly involved. That was always Remus’s directions.

“Observe. Indirectly nudge them.” 

“Skirt around them, lure them. Don’t engage them.”

Run. Keep running. You can do it.

God, if she had to watch them rip apart another person…

She hated herself for not helping those poor people but she was always too late to help them. It was sickening, the joy that exuded from the creatures as they tore the person apart. She watched in horror several times as the odd curse would peel the skin and muscle from their bones. The creatures would rip out large pieces of the curling tissue while the poor soul would scream in agony. 

The first few times, she emptied her stomach at the sight–now it was easier to keep it in. It still gave her nightmares. She forced herself to endure the grotesque show, cataloguing every detail to her memory. Whenever this ended, she knew that her memories would be the final nail in all their coffins. 

She would make sure of it. None of them would come out of this unscathed.

After the creatures were done, she would ensure nothing was touched and send a message of the location. She always made sure to wait until the Aurors arrived, not wanting the poor soul’s remains to be left unattended.

Tomorrow would be a full moon and she couldn’t watch another person die, not when she could do something. So tonight, she tricked them to follow her to the countryside, away from the small towns. Exhaustion from years of playing cat and mouse with the wolves was again taking its toll. She couldn’t keep Greyback at bay forever and Hermione didn’t think she could survive another torture session, even if it had been a purposeful capture. 

Greyback had personally “seen to her”. The reminder of how he had purred the words at her made Hermione openly gag. If anything truly gave her nightmares, it was those few days of enduring him before she had managed to escape. Her Self-Silencing charm, while previously proved useful, now a double-edged sword. Her screams and agony were silent, keeping Greyback from getting the satisfaction of her torture. It only made him increase his efforts. The scar that now itched along her back was proof of his rage. 

Hermione was certain that if some idiot hadn’t caused a ruckus somewhere else in the house, she wouldn’t have lasted another day. She broke free before Greyback came back from whatever had happened. She seethed and saw red when she discovered a new victim in the cell next to her, being tortured the whole time. Thankfully, the poor man had ended up dying from blood loss before they could do the usual process and eat him alive.

The creatures in the holding house weren’t so lucky.

Hermione had gone on a rampage and disposed of two hags and four werewolves before she made a hasty exit. She knew that Greyback was still upset about the incident. She didn’t care. It fuelled the resolve to end things.

She scrambled to grasp a rather large rock and threw it to her left with all her might. She quickly darted behind a large oak tree and held her breath. The sounds of yelling and breaking brambles faded as the werewolves took the bait. Hermione sighed in relief and nimbly walked the opposite direction of the scouting Pack.

She almost stumbled as memories were forcefully crashing against the calm waters in her mind. Her resolve to keep the dam in her mind closed was weakening. She was weakening, her Occlumency starting to fail her again from exhaustion.

An image of silver eyes and white blond hair crossed her mind. The sounds of a deep, caressing voice filled her head. 

Her breath hitched and she held the tears in. Throwing up her refortified Occlumency walls, she increased her pace as the crashing and hollers started to close in again. She needed to stay just out of reach and wistful memories only distracted her. But she wanted so, so badly to slip into those memories.

A large hand gently held her face. Silver eyes locked onto her own and she swore the Earth stood still in that moment. She could feel his bare chest rise and fall against hers, his heartbeat slowing down as his breathing evened. It felt like deja vu for her. 

The last time…he’d been taken away from her. Now, she knew the clock was ticking before she was taken from him. The words stuck in her throat again, wanting desperately to tell him. He kissed her softly. Her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. Satiated with each other, he still kissed her like he was starving for her. She would never tire of it either. His gaze was tender towards her…loving. 

The words choked in her throat again. She couldn’t bear to hear him say those words, not now. She pressed her lips to his quickly, an attempt to stop it just in case. She sighed as his grip on her chin tightened and he nipped her bottom lip. They could get lost in each other, at least for right now. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that tomorrow she would be joining Harry and Ron since they’d destroyed another Horcrux. Remus had tested her multiple times to ensure that she had control. That she could handle it. She knew she could. Now she needed to prove it. 

She was now surrounded. 

The Pack was elated with itself, having managed the feat. 

Little did they know it wasn’t because they outsmarted her. But she’d let them think that. She’d held back fully shifting while the moon was high above them. It was bad enough witnessing their excitement upon shifting to her fox earlier. Fully shifting would send the rest of the Pack into a crazed frenzy. She shuddered. 

That was the last thing she needed right now.

In the distance she could see the great brute himself coming towards her. Her hackles rose and her lip curled in a snarl. She didn’t dare shrink back, instead she stood as tall as her small body could on four legs and gathered her magic at her core, watching in earnest as the burly black werewolf stalked towards her.

She watched his yellow eyes narrow as he towered over her, even from this distance. His fur was matted down his chin, a mix of blood, dirt, and saliva glistening in the moonlight. Hermione was sure it couldn’t be from a human. She had been much too careful keeping them all away from people. But then again, she wasn’t sure when he had met up with the Pack. It was entirely possible that Greyback had, as he liked to call it, enjoyed a snack.

Her magic thrummed inside her, waiting patiently to be released. Hermione carefully kept her eyes trained on Greyback as he stalked closer, his grin making her grimace. From the corner of her eye, the other wolves nervously shuffled their paws, wanting to jump in but knowing better. One mistakenly broke rank and jumped forward with a yip. Greyback snapped his head to the side, snarling harshly to the wolf .

Hermione used that distraction to release the hold on her magic and snarled as the rippling feel of her magic spread across her skin like water. She felt a bit of satisfaction at the anger that rolled across Greyback’s face and the way his eyes narrowed further at her. She didn’t miss how his body tensed, preparing to strike. The surrounding wolves shuffled more, agitated at the change in their Alpha.

They tried to bring chaos tonight. Hermione was about to give it back tenfold.