You are viewing a story from

BloodLust Part One: Blood Moon by onyx_rose

Format: Short story
Chapters: 4
Word Count: 8,599
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Strong Language, Strong Violence, Scenes of a Sexual Nature,

Genres: Horror/Dark, Mystery, Romance
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Draco, Pansy, Blaise (M), OC
Pairings: Draco/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Remus/Tonks, Ron/Lavender, Hermione/OC

First Published: 05/26/2007
Last Chapter: 07/27/2007
Last Updated: 07/27/2007

"There are more things in heaven and earth...than are dreamt of in your philosophy." ~Hamlet by William Shakespeare
An evil plan (to its creator, a game), two players in that game, and of course a little bit of lust. But lust can be very dangerous...especially if it's a lust for blood.

  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

CHAPTER ONE: End of Summer and Letters


Hermione’s pale face stared back at her from out of her mirror.  The scratches from the night before hadn’t healed.  She had no idea what she’d been doing, or why she was in the Weasley’s back field.  All she remembered was running from some creature of the night, and it knocked her over.  She remembered a searing pain in her left arm, but when she looked at it, no bite marks or scratches existed, except for an area that was inflamed and a bit of a purplish red.


Ginny strayed into the bedroom she was sharing with Hermione, since Hermione’s parents had been killed on Voldemort’s orders.  Hermione spent her first full summer at the Burrow, and it was the night before when she’d been out in the Weasley’s open field that the thing had chased her (the events were beginning to sort themselves out in her murky mind).  Molly had inquired about the scratches when Hermione burst through the door, ashen faced and frightened.  She had lied of course, and said something had startled her, and she tripped and fell.


Molly dropped the subject then, sensing that Hermione wasn’t keen to talk about what it was that had frightened her.  Ginny picked up her makeup bag, and gave Hermione an odd look as she went out.  Hermione scrutinized herself more.  She noticed that her warm chocolate eyes were dilated in fear.  She had nightmares the rest of the night about running and not being able to stop.  Her honey and chocolate mane frizzed about her narrow face, and her normally red lips were a pale pink to match her face.  Freckles dotted her nose from her trip to France.  She turned away from her scratched-up reflection and walked over to her bed.


Mirrors lie,’ she said to herself as she opened a window.  Minutes later, a rather large barn owl flew through the window, and landed on her bedside table.  It deposited a letter in her lap, and flew off.  Inside the envelope that was from Hogwarts (she noted it was thicker than usual) was a list of her school supplies and a personal letter from Professor McGonagall.


It read:


Dear Ms. Granger:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been honored with the title of Head Girl for your final year at Hogwarts.  Enclosed are your duties and your badge.  Good luck!

Prof. M. McGonagall

Headmistress of Hogwarts


Hermione squealed with delight as the shiny badge fell into her eager palm.  Little did she know, that miles away from her current location, a vampire with pale blond hair and electric blue eyes was reading the very same letter except that it was addressed to him.




The end of summer came too soon.  Hermione found herself craving meat more often than she should; undercooked meat at that.  She found her hunger insatiable, and she developed an unusual dislike for her own cat, Crookshanks.  Her senses seemed heightened, but thinking it was her imagination, she ignored it.


The train ride was uneventful for about the first hour, considering the Head Boy never showed up.  By the time the food trolley arrived, the Head Boy managed to find the time to miraculously appear.  When Hermione saw who it was, she wasn’t in the least surprised that he was late.


“Care to join me, Malfoy?”


He sat down in front of her.  She had no clue what he’d been doing the past hour.  He spied a spot of crimson blood, beginning to dry, on his left arm, and rushed to cover it up with the sleeve on his robe.  Hermione took no notice of the swift gesture, for which he was thankful.  He had been feeding, and he hadn’t been careful about cleaning up after himself. 


Malfoy ran his hand through is white-blond hair.  Hermione noticed the gesture, and the smell of him sent shivers down her spine.  All of a sudden, she felt that insatiable hunger, and longed to devour him.  She stood up and walked over to him.


He smelled her blood.  He was sure of it.  It smelled sweet, like honey and chocolate, but there was a certain bitterness to it, like it had been tainted by something.  He felt the lust come upon him, and he wasn’t sure if he could keep from going under.  He began to pant from the strain of keeping himself from drowning in the savagery of the vampiric hunger.


When he began to pant, she smelled the sweetness of his breath.  She almost succumbed to him, but the hunger began to take control.  She felt her eyes dilate and her senses heighten.  She felt wild, like she had no control over herself, no power to control herself. 


Malfoy stood up and began to circle her.  She did the same.  They looked like two dogs fixing to go at it over a piece of meat.  He felt his fangs elongate.  Hermione felt her mouth water at the thought of tasting his flesh.  They were about to attack each other until the train lurched suddenly, and the pair flew forward, one on top of the other.  Hermione came to her senses, her mind fuzzy over what had just happened.  She pushed herself up off of Malfoy, her warm hands touching his freezing, stone-like skin.  Then and there, Hermione Granger made a mental point to stay as far away from the Head Boy as her living quarters would allow.  She didn’t realize it, but Malfoy did the same.



Chapter 2: CHAPTER TWO: Tantalizing and Showing Emotions
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

CHAPTER TWO: Tantalizing and Emotions

Hermione ate her dinner in silence, grabbing mostly meats. Harry and Ron looked at her oddly, and she glared right back at them. The sun had barely begun to set when she went to her bedroom. After moonrise, however, Hermione began to feel a bit odd. She felt her newly heightened senses heighten even more, and her chocolate eyes turned a shade of topaz, and her pupils dilated. She felt her body grow rigid and she had no clue what was coming. She fell to her knees, and her body began to shake. She felt chills coming on. She threw up on her hardwood floor. She felt like she had the flu, and she managed to reach her bed. She pulled the covers tight over her face, and she tossed and turned all night long. Sometime about midnight, she broke out in a cold sweat.


She woke the next morning still feeling a bit peaky. She checked her mirror, and she was paler than she had ever seen herself. She ran her hand through her hair, and took a long hot shower. She went down into the Common Room to relax before breakfast. She made herself a cup of hot cocoa and snuggled down into the soft couch. Her cocoa did the trick and she had just begun to relax when she smelled him.

She had no clue why he affected her so. But just the smell of him; he smelled like food to her. It was about to drive her crazy.

He didn’t see her sitting on the couch, but he knew she was there because of the way her blood smelled. He could sort of feel her heartbeat resound in the room, and the smell of her blood…he had never smelled anything so tantalizing. She looked like she smelled, too. But she smelled different today. Her blood still smelled like honey and chocolate, but there was more of that bitter scent. He identified it as a rose. And when he pictured that rose, he saw it as black. He headed silently to the kitchen, only vaguely aware that he had been standing there inhaling her scent for five minutes.

Hermione stiffened as he walked past her to an armchair in front of the fire. She took her cup to the kitchen and left the common room, suddenly feeling very queasy. She headed to her first class and took a seat. By the time the rest of the class filed in, she began to feel the effects of not having had breakfast. And everyone in that cramped classroom smelled like food.

Harry and Ron sat beside her as usual. Harry smelled absolutely delectable. Ron smelled bittersweet, and not at all appetizing. She smelled Professor Flitwick, and she somehow managed to smell Malfoy from all the way across the room. His electric blue eyes looked up at her, and a look of shock crossed his face. He had smelled her from all the way across the room as well.

He was vaguely paying attention to Flitwick’s lesson. His mind began to wander and he kept stealing glances at her all through the lesson. Then the bell rang, sharply pulling him out of his reverie.

The day passed slowly, each minute feeling like an hour to both Hermione and Draco. Hermione headed up to the common room alone after dinner. She went up to her room and sat down on her bed. As soon as the moon rose, she felt that sick feeling again, and snuggled under her covers to ride it out.


Draco sat by himself at the top of the Astronomy Tower. The wind ruffled his hair lightly, and he shifted on his perch. He gazed up at the stars as the wind picked up, blowing his robes around him like he was some other-worldly god. He swung his leg back and forth in the air beside his little piece of stone that jutted out from the roof. He looked up at the moon. It would be full the next night. He immediately thought of Hermione and the way she had been acting. ‘‘Odd’ doesn’t even begin to cover it,’ he thought. He sighed and pushed himself up on the stone outcropping. Then he jumped.

Air rushed up past him as he fell. He felt his stomach fall somewhat with that familiar excitement; this was just like flying. His robes and hair were flying in all directions. Then he landed cat-like on the ground beside the castle: knees bent and one hand on the ground. He stood up and brushed himself off. He started his nightly moonlit stroll around the grounds and into the Dark Forest. After all, vampires don’t need to sleep.


Hermione awoke the next morning feeling worse than she had the day before. She groaned and decided to stay in bed for the day. Her nose felt stuffy, but every scent in her room seemed heightened. She could her every noise inside the part of the castle she was at and outside as well. Birds were chirping, the lake lapping against the shore, footsteps in the hall outside the portrait entrance to the Heads’ Common Room, and the fire crackling in the fireplace were so intense she decided to give up on sleep. She stood up off of the bed and walked to the common room. She stiffened when she smelled him. She shook herself and concentrated on breathing through her mouth; that only made it worse.

She made herself a cup of tea and a piece of toast. She sat down on the sofa beside him and stretched her legs across the empty cushion in between them. He raised his eyebrow and she curled her lip at him. He smirked.

“You look absolutely horrible,” he laughed at her appearance. He, of course, looked like some sort of Prince Charming out of a fairy tale.

“Yeah, well, you would too, if you felt as bad as I did.” She looked over at him; he looked like he was tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and his normally bright blue eyes were now almost midnight blue. He looked startled for a second.

“What?” she asked.

“We are having a civilized exchange. Well, let’s put an end to this, shall we, before the entire world goes mad.” He stood up and walked up the stairs to his room. He watched her take a sip of her tea and he turned around. He had almost killed her right then and there. She smelled so delicious it was hard to keep the monster in him under control. He flopped down on the edge of his bed. He buried his face into his hands. He had to gain her trust, and wait for the perfect moment to kill her.

Hermione looked down at her hands and into her tea. She saw a young girl who looked tired, sick and confused. She suddenly felt the wave of grief that had never seemed big before wash over her like a tsunami. She suddenly grieved for her parents. Her first summer without them; her first (and final) school year without them. They wouldn’t see her graduate. They wouldn’t be able to give her advice any more. A single tear slid down her cheek and into her tea. This year, she couldn’t go to Dumbledore or her parents for advice because all of them were dead. She had no idea why she was feeling so odd lately. She began to sob uncontrollably, and her hands shook as her teacup fell to the floor in a tinkling crash.

She ran up to her room and sat down on her bed to cry. She pulled out some parchment. There were only two women in her life she felt she could talk to any more and one man. She began to write a letter.

Dear Remus and Tonks,

I don’t know what’s happening any more. I miss my mum and dad. I can’t talk to them any more and something’s happening to me. Let me start at the beginning:

Nearly two weeks ago, I was in the Weasley’s back field. I don’t know why I went back there; I guess I just felt like I could relax and cry about mum and dad. But I heard a rustling in the grass and this big hairy thing lunged at me, and I don’t know why, but I darted out of its way; it barely missed me. I think it might have been a werewolf, because I know it bit me, and now I feel like I have the flu. Please write back; I feel like I have the flu the past two days, and tomorrow is the next full moon. I’m really scared.

Love from Hermione

She went up to the owlery and posted the letter. Then she headed back to the common room to sleep.


Remus Lupin sat on his sofa reading the Daily Prophet. His fiancée, Tonks, was in the kitchen, burning what smelled like pancakes and bacon. He smiled as the smoke alarm she had installed went off.

“It’s alright; I’ve got it,” she said, but she didn’t sound so sure. He grinned even bigger but his smile faltered because tonight she had to leave because he transformed tomorrow. He sighed. Ever since Snape had killed Dumbledore, he had had it rough every full moon. Tonks had to leave; whereas before, she could stay and pet him like a doggie because he had taken the potion that enabled him to be tame.

He stood up and walked into his small kitchen. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist and she grinned up at him. Her hair was a curly blonde, and his dirty blonde hair brushed against her cheek as he bent down to kiss her.

“Ugh, Remus, you really need to shave,” she said, giggling. He rubbed his tan hands over his face.

“I don’t think so. I think I’m going to try and go for a more rustic look,” he joked.

“How can you possibly be more rustic when you spend your nights in the woods every full moon?” she teased as he grinned. He took over the spatula and frying pan while she sat at the dining table. A large barn owl tapped on their window.

“Isn’t that one of the school owls?” she asked. “Harry!” they both exclaimed in unison. “Dear God, Voldemort hasn’t attacked Hogwarts, has he?” she asked worriedly.

He ushered the owl in and untied the letter from its leg.

“It’s from Hermione!” he said surprised. He read it, and his normally cheerful face clouded with worry.

“What’s wrong?” she asked peering over his shoulder.

“I’ve got to go,” he stated simply.

“Is Hogwarts under attack?”

“No, it’s worse. Much, much worse. Hermione has been turned into a werewolf.”

Tonks’ face paled with worry and horror.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know, but I’m afraid Hermione’s been bitten by Fenrir. I’m going down there to see what I can do.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“No,” he said. “Who could she tell that wouldn’t want to kill her?” He grabbed his coat and apparated to Hogsmeade.

A/N: A nice long chappie. I was disappointed with the first one’s length, so I made this one nice and long (and at eleven o’clock at night and a bit of thunder, it was easy to make it darker.) So a little bit of Tonks and Remus finally showed up. I couldn’t stop writing, so as always, hope you liked it, and read and review. Laters. p.s. how did you like Draco's little secret spot, eh?

Chapter 3: CHAPTER THREE: Dark Intentions
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

CHAPTER THREE: Dark Intentions

A/N: Okay, this might be a little confusing even though it’s morning it’s still night, which is the reason a person says ‘it will happen tonight’ dun dun dun. Okay? Okay. Glad I could clear that up for ya. Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, a few pennies, my soul and a cell phone. And my OC’s. Those are mine. Lotsa action here. Oh, yeah, and Draco doesn’t have sensitivity to sunlight. For previous/later ch.s!

In a dank and dreary old manor in a small town in Ireland, a creature neither a man or a beast and neither living nor dead sat talking to a brutal and fierce looking man with pointed teeth.

“I trust you’ve bitten the girl, Fenrir,” the thing hissed in a snake-like voice.

“Yes, Master, I did exactly as you said. She will begin her transformation tonight.”

“Good, good. Excellent. I don’t trust Malfoy with the job; the coward couldn’t even kill Dumbledore. But, if he carries out his part of the job, then my plan will be set into motion. The only thing now is to wait for her to bite him and for him to bite her. Watch over them. Do not fail me, for the consequences will be severe.”

“Yes master,” the man named Fenrir said. He stalked out of the room, like a beast looking for prey.

After he had left, the second man spoke.

“Jedidiah, go with him and make sure he does as he is told. Keep an eye on the girl. Make sure everything goes as planned. I am aware of the fact that werewolves and vampires are natural enemies, but do as I say. No objections!” he added as the man named Jedidiah opened his mouth to protest.

“After all, if Malfoy fails, you will get a taste of our little wolf-girl instead.” At this, Jedidiah grinned wickedly, showing two deadly fangs. He leapt swiftly out the window and ran off into the night, invisible with speed. The man left in the room, Lord Voldemort, cackled madly into the night, while a boy named Harry Potter awoke with a start in his bedroom at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Hermione!” he gasped before he passed out cold.


Ronald Weasley awoke with a start. He checked his magical watch his parents had given him; it said ten after three. He looked around for what could have caused such a loud thump and saw Harry lying on the floor, out cold. He grabbed the pitcher of water off of the bedside table and dumped the whole thing on Harry’s head. He awoke slowly and wiped the water off of his face.

“Hermione!” he said. “She’s in trouble! Fenrir bit her! She’s a werewolf. And Malfoy’s something else! Ron, I had this dream, a man named Jedidiah and Fenrir are coming to Hogwarts to keep an eye on Hermione. We’ve got to keep her safe!”

For the first time since his second year when he met Aragog, Ronald Weasley was truly petrified with fear.


Remus Lupin sat in front of the fireplace in Headmistress McGonagall’s office. She listened intently to what he was telling her. When he finished, her face betrayed nothing.

“I will have Professor Slughorn make the potion for her. In the meantime, all we can do is make sure she is safe. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will more than likely be spying on her, so we must go to any lengths to assure her safety; more so than we would anyone else because she is close to Potter.”

As she finished speaking, Ron and Harry burst through the door to her office, shouting words simultaneously.

“Mister Potter, Mister Weasley! What is the meaning of this?”

“Professor McGonagall, Voldemort has sent Fenrir Greyback and a man named Jedidiah to spy on Hermione!” they both exclaimed.

When they mentioned the name Jedidiah, she seemed to stiffen in her seat, and a flicker of fear flashed across her face.

“Sit down. Tell me what you know.”


Draco Malfoy walked alone through the Dark Forest. He turned around quickly, fangs elongating, when he heard a twig snap behind him. He saw nothing. The near full moon shown through the trees, illuminating the forest in a silvery bath of light; he looked around. Another twig snapped from behind him and he spun around to the direction he was facing before. Trees and bushes greeted him. He snarled in warning. A few leaves fell from the canopy of trees above him and he looked up to see branches bouncing from a release of weight.

“Is that how you greet a family friend?” Fenrir said from behind him. He spun around once more, but the man had disappeared again.

“Over here,” he said to Draco’s left. He turned but nothing except darkness greeted him.

“I don’t enjoy games, Fenrir,” he snarled.

“Oh, but I just love them,” Fenrir said, this time above him. Draco let loose a feral scream of frustration while Fenrir’s evil and airy laughter floated all around him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Keeping an eye on you; master’s orders,” he taunted, this time behind Draco once more. Draco spun around to face the werewolf.

“I hope you are having fun, because when I get done with you-”

“Tsk tsk. You know, I would’ve thought you’d had better manners, being a Malfoy, but it’s clear to me now that you don’t. And empty threats? Shame, shame. And I do enjoy my little games, just ask that Mudblood Granger.”

“You bit her?!” Malfoy screamed with rage and anger. The menace and danger in his voice was evident.

“Master’s orders,” Fenrir repeated. “He doesn’t trust you to do this on your own. Besides, he wanted me to tell you there has been a change in plans. You are still to bite her, even though she is a werewolf.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Fenrir said as he disappeared behind an ancient oak. “Master’s orders,” his fading voice said from behind Draco as the night stilled once more. Draco Malfoy let loose a feral roar of anger.


She was running through the Weasley’s back field with Ron. It was a clear day, and Harry and Ginny sat in the grass watching the two. Then all of a sudden it was nighttime and Ron was turning into a huge hairy beast. Then she was running from Ron. She ran over a cliff, but then she stopped. Malfoy had caught her in her arms, but she was still in the Weasley’s field. Then Malfoy grinned and he showed fangs and he was bending down to bite her but it was okay because that was what she wanted. Then she bit him and it was okay because it was what he wanted. Then she was running again, the beast chasing her, then she was the beast chasing Malfoy, then she was Hermione again and he leapt and she knew she was going to die and she cried and she was in the Weasley’s back field and she felt massive jaws close around her neck and everything faded to darkness.
Hermione Granger sat up in bed with a jolt. With a wave of euphoria that she didn’t know could exist, she realized she was in her Head Girl dorm and it was dawn. But the dream had seemed so real…

She shook her head and stood up. But a jolt of dread hit her body when she realized that that night was the first full moon. She rubbed her temples and headed downstairs, where she saw Malfoy sitting in front of the fire, deeply engrossed in his own thoughts. She knew he must have sensed her, but he didn’t show it. She made herself a cup of tea and headed back to her room. She didn’t go to her classes that day; she stayed in bed like she had done the day before. When it was time for dinner, she didn’t go down; afraid she would transform in front of the school, she stayed in bed. Sometime around six, someone pounded on her door. She went up to go answer it, and to her shock, she met Professor McGonagall.

“Miss Granger, I am aware, thanks to Remus Lupin that you are a werewolf and tonight is your first transformation. I have had Professor Slughorn make you the potion Remus used to take, in order to make your transformation more bearable. Also, I am placing charms on all of your doors, and your window. I am closing off your bathroom door and your closet door so that you won’t damage your things, or be able to harm Mister Malfoy. Now drink up. You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

She handed the potion to Hermione and proceeded to charm all of her doors and her window shut so that she couldn’t get out and harm anyone in the castle. Hermione downed the potion with a grimace; it tasted like freezer-burnt apples and old socks. As soon as the Professor left, she crawled into bed. Two hours later, her body went into convulsions. She threw up on her floor; she didn’t smell the potion for it had already done its job before she vomited. Her eyes dilated wildly. She felt her fingers and limbs elongate and she looked down. Her hands and arms were rapidly growing black fur. She also had paws and claws now instead of hands and feet. She felt her nose and mouth change and her ears felt like they had changed position. She howled in pain as her body continued to get longer. She grew a tail and she howled in pain once again as she fell to the floor, limp, not Hermione now, but a wolf. About an hour later, she woke, and whimpered. She fell down several times, and managed to pad over to her bed, where she scratched, bit and gnawed at her bed post and herself. She howled, scratched, and bit at anything she could find all through the night. Even though she had taken the potion, the pain had not gone away. She was docile, and didn’t crave human flesh. Around three a.m., wolf-Hermione fell asleep, curled up into a ball on her floor. That night she dreamed of electric blue eyes and the face of Draco Malfoy.


Draco Malfoy stayed in his room that night, afraid of the fact that Hermione could’ve been set loose in the Dark Forest. He was also aware of the fact that the blood-thirsty Fenrir was loose in the forest as well, and the thought disturbed him a bit. He sighed and paced his room. That’s when he heard snarls and howls of pain coming from Hermione’s room. He walked into their joined bathroom and stood at the door that led to Hermione’s room and listened. He heard her whimpering and scratching at her bedposts and the walls. He immediately felt a pang of pity for her; he may have had to feed on humans, but at least he didn’t have to go through a painful transformation every night. His dark blue (nearly black now) eyes shifted to the doorknob and he reached for it but thought better of it.

He left the bathroom, grumpy and hungry, for he hadn’t fed in days. He stalked out of the Common Room and out of the castle where he crept over the grounds to Hagrid’s hut, where he plucked a hen from her nesting place. He instantly broke her neck and began to drink her blood. When he finished, his eyes weren’t as dark as they were before, but he was still hungry. He didn’t feel like feeding on anyone at Hogwarts, so he fled the grounds to Hogsmeade, where he hid in an alleyway waiting for a victim. Soon a young woman in her mid-thirties walked by and he appeared by her side, intoxicating her with his sweet breath. He bent down to bite her and as soon as he was done feeding, he stashed her body in the alleyway he had previously occupied. He went back to Hogwarts, his electric blue eyes shining in the moonlight. A howl erupted from the Dark Forest as he settled in the Common Room to await the morning.


The next morning, Harry and Ron sat eating breakfast alone when the school owls came. Pigwidgeon dropped a Daily Prophet in Ron’s lap, clearly relieved to be rid of the load that was too big for the small bird.

‘WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN HOGSMEADE; MINISTRY SUSPECTS ROGUE VAMPIRE’ blared out on the front page, with a rather graphic picture of the woman that was found dead.

“Oi, Ron, get a load of this, eh?” Harry said, grabbing the page that Ron had discarded (he was busy reading the comics). “‘Woman Found Dead in Hogsmeade, Ministry Suspects Rogue Vampire’. Huh, that’s odd. Wait a minute, that man from my dream; I think Voldemort said something about him ‘getting a taste of our little wolf-girl instead’. Ah, here we go: ‘Ministry began investigation today, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. When asked who they thought was the killer, a very disgruntled Auror (who shall remain anonymous) said the Minister believed that it was Jedidiah Malachai, a notorious vampire said to be working among the ranks of You-Know-Who’,” Harry read. Both Ron and Harry’s faces lit up in comprehension, and they made a mad dash to the Head’s living quarters, earning them strange looks from passers-by.

A/N: Nice and long this time! Please read AND REVIEW. I really thrive on the feedback. Working on my other chs. for other stories too. Can’t give away anything tho! Bye! Ttfn!

Chapter 4: CHAPTER FOUR: Reality Bites and So Do Discoveries
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

CHAPTER FOUR: Reality Bites and So Do Discoveries

A/N: Hermione is only going to ‘fur up’ one day a month full moon wise.

Hermione shook her head roughly and stood up and stretched. She was relieved to find that she had normal human body parts instead of wolf ones, and she hastily put on her robe, as she was naked. ‘God, I feel like hell,’ she thought. She pulled her hair back into a messy bun, and walked over to her closet, whose charm had worn off when she turned back into herself. Today was Friday, and she picked out her uniform and headed to take a bath. As soon as she had gotten dressed, she went down to the Common Room to find Draco missing. She made herself a cup of tea, and as soon as she sat down, the sounds of two people pounding on the door yelling her name, caused her to get up again.

She opened the door, and the two boys stumbled in, apparently not expecting the door to be opened so soon.

“We know you’re a werewolf,” the two said simultaneously.

“And?” she said, wanting to get back to her tea.

“And Fenrir is here to spy on you, as is a man named Jedidiah,” Ron said, his voice filled with worry.

“We told McGonagall, and she’s going to make sure you’re safe. Are you alright, ‘Mione?” Harry asked.

“First full moon, remember,” she said with a weak smile.

They smiled worriedly at her before leaving.

“D’you think we should tell her Malfoy is a vampire?” Ron asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said.

They turned around and knocked once on her door again.

“What?” she asked, needing to get back to her tea.

“Malfoy is a vampire,” Harry said. “So, just watch your back for us, okay? We couldn’t stand to lose you.”

“I’ll be fine, vampire or not,” she said. “I’m a werewolf, remember?” She smiled and waved her friends out, before turning to the portrait guarding the entrance.

“If those two come back, please let them in,” she told Salazar and Godric. They nodded at her, before falling asleep.

She walked back into the Heads’ Common Room, and sat down on the soft, inviting sofa. She began thinking about werewolves and what she had read about them. Her own problems overrode her fear of Malfoy, and she realized with a jolt that she had read somewhere that some werewolves could change at will and not just during the full moon. It was something in French, but she couldn’t remember. She knew she wasn’t going to have time to go to the library any time soon either, because of the extra work from two days out of classes. She sighed as she finished her tea, and with a wave of her wand, the cup was clean. She stood up to begin what was sure to be a very long weekend.


A curvy young woman with short red tinted black hair was walking to an abandoned manor in the middle of a small town in Ireland. Her attire wasn’t exactly fit for the cool dampness of an Irish morning. She had on a black leather and lace corset top, and a blackish brown leather trench coat. Her black ballet flats weren’t exactly comfortable on her soles because of the old streets. She approached the dreary old house and entered without knocking. She walked right up the stairs to the second floor like she owned the place. She walked into the only room that had light and stopped in front of the occupied armchair, crossing her arms.

“You called, Oh Great One,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You always have amused me, Krys,” Voldemort said.

“I tend to amuse many,” Krys said. “It’s just too sad that when they tell me, I tend to rip their throats out, one way or another.”

“You loup-garou were always temperamental,” he said.

“My people in general, or just this particular one?” she said, menace edged into her voice.

“None of your pack have ever listened to their master,” he said nonchalantly.

“Because we are owned by no man!” she said angrily. Her normally blue eyes flashed yellow.

“As truthful as that may be, I need a favor and your obedience.”

“I pledge no loyalty to you, Tom Riddle,” she spat. He looked like he was going to curse her, but his angry look was soon replaced with a calm one.

“Your pack has tended to be loyal to me, ever since I eliminated the O’Reillys.”

“True as that may be, that was many years ago, and we owe you nothing. Fenrir repaid our debts to you.”

“And I am asking a favor and as I recall, if you do this, I will be in your debt,” he said.

“We are not bad people. Je ne suis pas un mauvais loup-garou. Je ne doit pas de loyauté à vous*. I will not do as you ask and neither will my people.”

“Comme je me rappèle, vous n'êtes pas de la France, mais pays de Galles*. Fenrir, your cousin, has bitten a girl, and that makes her part of your pack. I wish for you to retrieve her and teach her about your ways.”

“No, I will not. I won’t condemn a young girl to a life of wickedness as one of your ‘loyal followers’,” she said, her eyes flashing yellow again, and she lunged for Voldemort, and while in the air, she turned into a black wolf, but Voldemort was quicker. He whipped out his wand, and in a flash of green light, Krys Greyback was dead.

“Voyons que votre mâle d'alpha a à dire de cela.*”


Hermione Granger returned to the Common Room after dinner with a mountain-sized pile of homework.

She rubbed her temples in exhaustion. She had anticipated a lot of work, but not this much. She sighed and set to work.

Three hours and four cups of coffee later, she was almost finished. She conjured another cup for herself and downed the scalding liquid without a grimace. It was late and she was having trouble concentrating. She slammed her Potions book shut and breathed a sigh of relief. She was finally finished. She looked at the old-fashioned Grandfather Clock in the corner of the Common Room. It was a quarter after midnight. She sighed and dove into the many tomes she had checked out from the library at lunch. Finally after many long hours of research, she had found what she was looking for. She grinned as she read a page in a book that talked about werewolves and other ‘mythical creatures’.

‘The werewolf is said to be one of the most fearsome beasts in the world. Derived from the Anglo-Saxon word ‘were’ which literally means ‘man’ and the word ‘wolf’, a werewolf is a man who is cursed to transform into a wolf every full moon. In Argentina he is referred to as El Lobizón, and in France he is known as Le Loup-Garou. The lobizón is the seventh son of a seventh son, and transforms on Tuesdays and Fridays during full moons. The loup-garou is said to transform not only during full moons, but whenever the individual so desires. The full moon makes these man-beasts lunatics…’
She smirked in satisfaction once more because this was where she had read it. An odd thought struck her. She closed her eyes and thought only about her inner-wolf and how it felt to unleash her. She concentrated on being her wolf, and she felt her body shift painfully from that of a young teenage woman to that of a young wolf. She didn’t feel crazy like she did on moon nights and felt most of her human instincts intact. Her wolf instincts were there, but her human understanding overran the beast within.

The black wolf loped once around the common room and explored places her human self had missed. She learned that there was a secret door underneath the study table on the right wall, she found a mouse hole near the staircase leading up to the Heads’ dorms, and accidentally stuck her snout in a pair of Draco’s boxers that happened to be laying under the sofa. She shook the used undergarments off of her face and sneezed several times, before taking her front paw and scratching at her nose.

She perked her black ears up at the muted sound of Draco’s voice uttering the password to the portrait guarding the entrance to the Common Room. She jumped when he opened the door; she was pretty much caught red-handed with a pair of his used boxers.


Draco stood outside the entrance to the Common Room. He may have been a vampire, but he sure as hell knew he needed a scalding hot shower as tense as he was. The Daily Prophet had published an article about the woman he had killed. At least they suspected Jedidiah and not him. He pushed the door open rather loudly and dropped his bag on the floor in shock. A black wolf stood staring at him in what could only be described as a guilty way (‘Can wolves look guilty?’ he asked himself.). The wolf was standing in front of that pair of boxers he’d lost when he’d had that rendezvous with that Ravenclaw. There was something oddly familiar about those yellow eyes. That’s when the wolf shifted back into a very noticeably naked Hermione.

“What the bloody hell?!” he exclaimed.

“Er, I had done some research on werewolves and there was this type called the ‘loup-garou’ it’s French, you know, and I thought since they could transform of their own free will and during full moons I would try it out and it turns out I can too and I was walking around a bit and I stuck my nose in your boxers-wait that didn’t come out right, um,” she said.

“What the bloody hell were you doing with your nose shoved up my boxers??!!”

“I, well, I should ask you some questions too! Ron and Harry said you were a vampire!” she practically shouted hysterically.

“So??! The bloody Head Girl can turn into a bloody wolf whenever she bloody wants to and during the bloody full moon she turns into a bloody savage beast and she could bloody kill me!”

“You’re overreacting a bit,” she said seriously.

“At least I won’t drink your blood because werewolves and vampires are enemies! You could slaughter me anytime you want!”

“Like I would ever want to taste you!” but even as Hermione said this, she knew it wasn’t true. She had loved the way he smelled like food from the first time she had whiffed him. He looked at her strangely.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re still naked,” he said, while all the while giving her the once-over. She snarled in warning at him and he averted his gaze. She stalked up to her room to put on some pajamas and finally go to bed.


After she had left, Draco fell onto the sofa. He placed a hand over his crystal-clear blue eyes and sighed. She was beginning to smell different, more and more bittersweet every day. He licked his lips; it was a good thing he had fed the day before, or else he would have taken her then and there. And her wolf form was so beautiful. She was so graceful and deadly at the same time. He couldn’t believe how she looked after she had changed back. Her naked body had caused him to immediately react, and he still hadn’t felt his body go back to normal; it was like the beast within him wouldn’t go back into submission, his thirst for her was worse than his thirst for blood. Her fair skin seemed to sparkle in the golden glow of the fire. He loved the way she seemed to be only muscle, from her flat stomach to her feet. He knew from encounters that werewolves tended to be leaner than regular humans due to the changes their muscles undergo when they transform. He could’ve looked at her legs all day and he felt his body shiver when he thought about it. He shook his head as if to rid his mind of those thoughts and memories. His body wasn’t doing as great as his head. He set off through the darkened castle and headed to his little hiding spot at the Astronomy Tower to mull things over.


Fenrir Greyback stood alone in the streets of London. He headed towards an old mansion that seemed to pop out of nowhere between two shops. He knocked three times on the door, and then scratched once. A tired-looking old woman stood at the door holding a white lace handkerchief to her eyes. She motioned him into the house and he followed her to the dining room, where thirty or forty more people, men, women and children, sat crying. The expression ‘if looks could kill’ flashed across his mind as soon as he entered the room. All eyes were on him, and their expressions were all alike in that they were all of hatred. He bravely walked in and took a seat near the back of the room where only the weakest of the pack sat. The irony of that struck him and he almost chuckled but didn’t as he didn’t want to be mauled by thirty-six angry and upset werewolves. Even though he was stronger than their pack leaders, he was always in with the weakest ones because of his loyalty to the Dark Lord.

He looked around the room; all of their gazes weren’t on him anymore but on a muscular young man at the front of the room. He was very muscular, but kind of chunky but in a good way. He had sort of short-ish dirty blond hair, and broad shoulders, blue eyes, and very full lips. He had some facial hair but not a lot. ‘Peach fuzz’ Fenrir’s father would call it. All of the werewolves in the room bowed to him and took their right hand and starting from the wrist of their left hand, they scratched their left arm symbolically.

Grief was written all over the young man’s features. Fenrir had no idea who had died and as he looked around the room, the only person he could find missing was their leader’s mate. His mouth opened in shock. He might have had a mind for killing, but he didn’t want to ever see his dear cousin Krys dead. Prior to arriving at the house, he had only received a letter from his sister telling him he needed to come home. She didn’t state why or under what terms, and now he understood. He began to weep along with everybody else in the room.

“Krys, my lover, my mate, your Alpha Female, is dead,” the young man said. Hearing it from him confirmed their fears. They were all one family, one pack. Save for Fenrir, they all lived together in smaller bunches and hunted as one. One person dead, especially Krys, tore them apart.

“How do you know, Leon?” someone in the back asked. Leon’s eyes flashed golden and anger filled his face.

“Because Voldemort,” he spat. “Sent the body back as her wolf-form. There is nobody as pure black as she. She is dead. She won’t be coming back.”

A whimper resounded from behind Leon. A two year old whined like her wolf form and he picked her up, cradling her.

“There is a war coming. We all know it. As of right now, we all need each other to fight the Dark Lord. Fenrir, you are welcomed back with open arms. You are no longer loyal to the Dark Lord since he killed Krys. He was not to harm any of the pack while you were loyal to him.”

Fenrir almost said he would always be loyal to the Dark Lord but he kept his mouth shut. He knew that if a war did happen in the near future (as it was more likely than not), he would rather be on the winning side than the losing (and the odds weren’t in the Dark Lord’s favor).

“I spoke to some of our sister packs,” Leon continued. “The vampires are getting restless. No doubt most of them will side with Voldemort considering their wicked ways. We will fight the vampires and we will fight for The Light. We should rally the other packs and the rogue wolves. I swear I will avenge my love’s death.”

With a howl, Leon and his pack rushed to the forest where they transformed willingly and hunted. Fenrir hung back, afraid of judgment by his ‘family’. With a howl, the burly man transformed into his gray, bloodthirsty wolf form, and ran off into the night.


Jedidiah Malachai sat in the Hog’s Head pub with several of his mates. Seven (including Jedidiah) were men, and six were women. Rain pounded the dirty windows, as a crash of thunder sounded and lightning struck somewhere nearby. He took a drink of his ale and addressed them all.

“As you all know, the Greyback Pack has suffered a terrible loss,” Jedidiah said, his voice oozing with sarcasm. “One of their leaders, Krys was killed by the Dark Lord.” There were several cheers and exclamations of triumph from the vampires surrounding him.

“But before we get too excited, we must remember her mate, Leon, will do anything to avenge her. And you must remember that they are not ordinary werewolves, but they are descended from the very old and very powerful Loup-Garou. They can change shape at will and are almost indistinguishable from regular wolves. We must be careful. Do not throw caution to the wind, for if you do, it may cost you your life.”

There were several boos this time from his comrades.

“But, we have power over them. We are more numerous and we are stronger. We are loyal to the Dark Lord and I am sure if we help him, the world will once again be ours to rule.”

He ended his encouraging speech with a toast.


Peter Pettigrew (alias Wormtail) stood shaking nervously in front of Voldemort.

“You c-called m-m-master,” he stuttered.

“Yes, I want you to run an errand for me. Go tell the vampires who are loyal to me to get ready. We begin our battle at Christmas.”
The short balding man did as he was told. Voldemort took his wand and put the tip on his Dark Mark, whispering ‘Draco Malfoy’ as he did so. Soon the seventeen year old boy was standing in front of him having run from Hogwarts to the dank building that was currently Voldemort’s hiding spot.

He kneeled before The Dark Lord and waited.

“I want her bitten before Christmas. That is when we will have our first battle. Not the Final Battle in this War, but an attack on the Order. Bite her and seduce her by then.”


A/N: Ya like? It took me about two days to write this ch. Review and if anyone could make a banner please? (leave it in a review if anyone does). Oh, and here are the translations for the stuff in French above. I’m pretty sure its accurate. If not, tell me please, b/c I would hate to sound like a fool in another language. It’s gonna get darker from here on out.  And if you have any questions about anything in here, just ask and i'll let you know if i don't plan on revealing it in later chs.

*Je ne suis pas un mauvais loup-garou. Je ne doit pas de loyauté à vous means: I am not a bad werewolf. I owe no loyalty to you.

*Comme je me rappèle, vous n'êtes pas de la France, mais pays de Galles means: As I remember, you are not from France but from Wales

*Voyons que votre mâle d'alpha a à dire de cela means: Let’s see what your alpha male has to say about that. (I think the translation has an extra ‘a’ in it but I’m not sure. I should know, seeing as I’m going into French 3…)