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Author: Kaymanay
Title: Natural Instinct
Ship: Hermione/Remus
Era: Multiple
Summary: Albus Dumbledore places a Lycanthropic Hermione Granger in the care of Remus Lupin. The only problem is: She’s travelled back to 1977.
A/N: I’ve recently found an interest in HG/RL, especially time-travel fics! I just had to write this, it was begging to be written. Sorry!
The first thing Hermione Granger noticed, as she fought her way to consciousness, was the sound of two distinctly familiar male voices holding a murmured conversation somewhere above her, and whilst Hermione recognised both voices she was hard pressed to put names to them in the confusing fog that stubbornly surrounded her mind. The second thing Hermione noticed, as she broke the surface of consciousness, was the nauseatingly strong medicinal smell, which alerted her to the fact she was currently taking up residence in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. The third and final thing Hermione noticed as she was pulled completely into consciousness, was the searing, agonising pain centred somewhere around her right collarbone, which was sending off shockwaves of pain that rebounded off every part of her body. And so, Hermione, ever the quick thinker, surmised this searing, agonising pain was the reason she was currently setting up shop with Madame Pomfrey
Hermione let out a sigh-like groan as she shifted painfully in the bed, pain rocketing over every inch of her body. The abrupt halt in the conversation going on above her did not go unnoticed, and soon the distinct sound of shoes on marble could be heard as Madame Pomfrey marched her way towards Hermione. Within seconds Hermione had been forced into a sitting position, and was smacking and licking her lips in distaste of the foul tasting potion that had been forced down her throat, blinking blearily at the two men in front of her as she felt the pain on her collarbone dull slightly.
“Miss Granger?” Hermione’s eyes quickly found the speaker, pupils shrinking as her eyesight came into focus. Hermione flinched as suddenly every single one of her senses went into overload; everything around her seemed to be violent and harsh to her eyes, the soft breathing of the two men in front of her pounded in her head, she could almost taste the regret that filled the room when she took a deep breath, and the once soft sheets of the hospital wing grated against her bare arms and legs as if it were sand. Hermione felt her agitation growing, desperately fighting the urge to growl at the old man standing in front of her, instead settling for a scowl.
“Professor Dumbledore?” Her voice was hoarse, slightly husky and she shifted uncomfortably. “What happened? Why am I here?” Hermione was struggling to keep the anger from her voice. Everything seemed to agitate her, she could feel her rage burning in the pit of her stomach; her hormones seemed to be going into overdrive.
“Miss Granger, I’m afraid you’ve had an accident …”
Hermione’s nerve endings were set on end, and she ground her teeth together in rage, don’t patronise me old man.
“… It appears you had an encounter with Fenrir Greyback last night …”
Hermione continued to grind her teeth, not bothering to hide the malice showing on her face.
“… We had hoped for the best Miss Granger…”
Hermione’s blood froze in her veins, and all traces of anger quickly fled. No. Oh God please no!
“… Last night was the first of three in which the moon is full …”
A lead weight settled in Hermione’s stomach and she could taste bile in her throat. No, not me. Not now.
“… I’m afraid you were inflicted with Lycanthropy, we tried everything, and I am so sorry, Hermione.” Hermione stared at Dumbledore with a mixture of shock and disbelief. This isn’t happening.
“So I’m a Lycanthrope? I’m going to turn into a Werewolf?” Hermione asked her voice breaking, panic not withstanding. Dumbledore nodded gravely. Hermione felt her anger building again. It couldn’t be happening, not to her.
A slight movement to Hermione’s left brought Hermione’s attention to the quiet figure of Remus Lupin, who stood watching her with an unreadable expression. She knew he was concerned though. She wasn’t quite sure how she knew, it was like she could smell it, almost as if it were palatable, heavy in the air around her. There was something else there though, something new, yet so familiar, something that smelt so feral, dangerous, barely being controlled. The beast. Hermione was surprised she could sense it, but when she looked closer she was surprised she had never seen it before, it seemed to surround him, radiate from him.
Hermione found herself comforted by his presence, almost as if the barely controlled presence of his inner wolf calmed her own, she knew he would help her with this, guide her through this. He had suffered through this for years; he knew what was going to happen to her. Hermione’s eyes focussed on the faint scars marring his handsome face, scars caused by his lycanthropy, scars she had hardly noticed before, scars so faint she had never seen them, scars which now seemed to jump out at her. He did this every month, he transformed into a werewolf for three nights every month, he went through … what ever it is that happens. Oh god, will it hurt?
“Will it hurt?” she asked, finally meeting his eyes “The transformations, I mean.”
“Yes.” His voice was soft and calm, strained with understanding, eyes intense. She couldn’t hold them. Hermione’s eyes found a vicious looking scar on the crook of his neck, still slightly pink, as if it were fresh.
Remus stood calmly as she scrutinised him, shivering slightly as her hungry eyes lingered on the scar that had turned him into a Lycanthrope.
“How much will it hurt?” Her eyes were still focused on the scar. He grimaced slightly as he remembered his first transformation. The first was always the worst.
“It’ll hurt enough,” Remus said gently, “But the first is always the worst, it gets easier with time.” He took a step forward when her eyes dropped to her hands in her lap. “Hermione, I know exactly how hard it is to be going through this; I know how scared you are, how confused you are. But it’s going to be alright. I promise you, everything will be fine. I’ve suffered for 33 years!”
Hermione lifted her eyes to his again and nodded her head slightly. She was scared, gut-wrenchingly terrified, yet she couldn’t help but be comforted by Remus’ words. He seemed so sure, and she allowed herself to be assured.
Hermione’s head snapped to her right when Dumbledore took a step away from her bed, her senses and reflexes were still in overdrive. Dumbledore smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid I must leave for a short time Miss Granger, however, I will return tonight to administer the Wolfsbane potion to you. Would you like me to send Messer’s Potter and Weasley up?” Hermione’s heart began pounding again, the taste of bile fresh in her throat. No, no Harry and Ron, oh No!
“Yes, thank you Professor.” Hermione replied meekly. Hermione sighed despondently and let her eyes fall back down to her hands, one of which had a large gash running along the palm, and listened to the soft sound of Dumbledore’s retreating footfalls..
“I must say, I’m very impressed with how well you’re controlling your temper, I find I still have a lot of trouble with it every now and again,” Hermione jumped as Remus spoke again, he stood closer to her now, a faint smile on his lips. “I had much more trouble with my temper, but then I suppose you at 18 have much better control over your emotions than I did at 5”
Hermione’s eyes flew to his in horror. He simply stood there, a sad smile on his lips. “I find myself wishing I were 18 again, if only to better understand how I can best guide you through this. It would appear I am guilty of the most common crime among old fogies; forgetting what it is to be young”
Hermione snorted in amusement, he certainly didn’t look old, not much older than 30 at least, his prematurely greying hair the only sign of his age. She couldn’t imagine him being old.
“Would you like me to remain with you whilst you explain everything to Harry and Ron?” Hermione looked at her old professor in shock, yet couldn’t help but feel relieved at his offer. Smiling in appreciation Hermione nodded and pointed towards the chair at the side of her bed.
“I think I could use the company anyway, Remus”.
Hermione turned sharply to her left, following him down a dark corridor, a wry smile curling her lips as she considered the fact that had she been without her knew refined reflexes and speed she would have fallen over her own feet attempting to make such a sharp turn. Remus had commented on the fact that she had adjusted to the changes within her body a lot quicker that he had expected her to; the onslaught on her senses no longer overwhelming, but still slightly distracting, whilst she had quickly adjusted to her new reflexes, strength and speed, completely missing out the clumsy adjustment stage. Hermione had felt a wry sort of Pride at his comment. But now … now she was so terrified, so bone chillingly scared. Every muscle in her body was tense, and she knew she was affecting Remus, if the new-found stiffness in his posture was anything to go by.
Hermione unclenched her fists, letting out a deep breath in an attempt to excel her anxieties as well as the breath. She was relieved when it worked, her muscles relaxing briefly before immediately tensing up again as Remus stopped in front of a portrait at the very end of cul-de-sac corridor. The portrait swung open without any prompting, and Remus swept into the room behind it with Hermione in tow. The room inside was elegant and beautifully decorated, and Hermione wandered briefly on the state of it in the morning before her eyes registered the figure of Severus Snape draped elegantly over a black armchair, a goblet smoking on the table to his left.
Hermione watched apprehensively as Snape stood, grabbing the goblet and took a step towards Hermione. She was surprised when he lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, a heart-rending look in his eyes, and she was even more surprised when he pulled her into his arms in a fatherly hug murmuring “I am so sorry, dear child. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, least of all you” Snape then stood back, acting as if nothing out of the normal had transpired, pressing the Goblet into her hand and explaining to her what she already knew “However, Wolfsbane is normally taken over three days. Dumbledore informed me that by adding more ground Murtlap, it should take effect much quicker, however, it may also knock you out, Merlin be willing, which means you won’t be conscious during the transformation.” He then pressed a thick scroll of parchment into her hands explaining that due to his work for the order he may not always be around to brew the potion for her and the scroll included the ingredients and instructions on the brewing of Wolfsbane. Hermione thanked him, somewhat teary, and turned her attention to the goblet in her had that looked more like the inside of a pensive than a potion.
With a deep breath that proved the potion to be odourless, she lifted the Goblet to her lips and downed the potion in three large gulps. She could feel both men’s eyes on her as she drank the potion, the heat of embarrassment flushing her cheeks as she handed the goblet back to Snape with weak thanks. Both seemed to watch Hermione with bated breath for a few seconds, before letting out disappointed sighs at the fact she had remained upright and conscious.
Looks like I have to go through this.
With a nod to Remus, and a last helpless look in Hermione’s direction, Snape swept out of the room, leaving Hermione and Remus locked in for the night. Hermione ventured a look in the direction of her old professor and was surprised to find his robes neatly folded on the armchair in front of him. Her eyes flew to Remus and she was even more surprised to find one of his hands loosening the knot in his tie, and the other working the buttons at the bottom of his shirt. As if sensing her eyes on him he turned his head towards her and his eyebrows rose expectantly “I would suggest ridding yourself of any clothing you don’t want destroyed during the transformation, Hermione” He explained, not unkindly. Hermione nodded slowly, swallowing hard, trying not to appear affected by his lack of clothing.
Hermione turned her head back towards the window she had been looking out of and began pulling on the clasps of her robe, slipping it off her shoulders and tossing it haphazardly onto the large table beside her. She made quick work of her jumper and tie, before toeing of her shoes and removing her socks. Hermione looked down at her shirt and skirt and felt herself blush in embarrassment. Hermione looked at Remus quickly before snapping her head back towards the window, heart hammering, he had been in his underwear, folding his trousers up and placing them on the table.
Hermione stiffened when she felt a hand softly grip her shoulder. “It won’t be long.” He said hoarsely, “Minutes, I can feel it”. Hermione looked up at the moon which already appeared to be full to her. I’ll probably be able to tell the difference in a few months. The hand her shoulder lifted and she heard him quietly moving away. That’s when she felt it, the tingling in her skin. From the tops of her hair, to the tips on toes she was tingling. Hermione spun around with a gasp and was relieved to see Remus looking out a window on the other side of the room. His jaw was clenched, and his shoulders rigid. Hermione quickly shed her skirt and shirt and turned back to the window. The moon was now a perfectly shaped sphere in the sky.
Hermione let out a gasp as the bite on her neck gave a painful throb. Her breathing became laboured as her entire body began to ache, her bite mark still throbbing painfully. She could feel herself shaking violently with fear, and tears were rolling freely down her face. She gave a whimper as Remus let out a pain-filled moan, and fell to her knees with a cry as pain rocketed through her spine and down her legs. Her body was suddenly on fire, it was searing hot pain and it filled every fibre of her being and she tried to block out the sound of Remus’ cries in the background, but she couldn’t. Oh God, what if they were hers?
She was stretching, her skin was stretching and changing and it was still on fire and it was just so painful, so damn painful, and she wanted it to stop so much. But it didn’t, and it continued to get worse and worse, and it was just so much agony. She could feel her neck stretching, and her teeth and nails lengthening, and suddenly her eyesight and her sense of smell sharpened even more. The metallic tang of blood was thick in the air.
God she wished the pain would just stop. Hermione cried out again and again, her cries quickly turning to screams and shrieks. And just when she thought it was too much, just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore an agonised howl was ripped from the very depths her body before everything quickly turned black.
“You have pretty hair”
She wasn’t sure but there might have been several chuckles around her. The handsome man chuckled and shifted her slightly, and the agonising vibrations of her body intensified causing Hermione to let out a pained whimper, before everything once again went black.
When Hermione awoke for the second time that morning, it was to the familiar sand-like texture on the hospital wing beds, and in decidedly less pain. With a groan Hermione pushed herself into a sitting position, hissing as several of the gashes on her body rubbed against the roughness of the bed sheets. Running a shaky hand through her wild hair, she looked blearily at the faces staring at her from the foot of her bed
Hermione blinked.
It couldn’t be?
It wasn’t possible!
How the hell …?
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