Disclaimer:Bunch o' wizards belong to J.K. Rowling. Story's mine, la di da di da.

Rating:M
A/N: Just a little fic that I thought of writing because the idea wouldn't leave my head until I finished writing it.

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Hermione wasn't entirely sure how it happened.

It all happened so fast, really.

One minute she was busy tending to the victims of the War at this shelter she volunteered at every weekend, and the next, she was bitten. She wasn't sure how it happened, but she remembered it – clear as day.

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5 years ago

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Hermione's attention was torn from teaching children the basics of magic, children who had just lost their parents in the war, just to prepare them before Hogwarts. It was a man's voice, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Alert, she immediately whipped out her wand as fast as her war-honed skills taught her to and cast a protective charm around the children.
"Now, I need you to huddle together, keep silent and not move until I come back and say you can, can you do that?"

Many pairs of large, innocent and fear-stricken eyes looked back at her with trust and fear combined. They all nodded.
Hermione made her way outside of the classroom and shut the door, walking towards the corridor, where the screaming was getting louder and louder.

"HELP ME! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! HELP ME, HELP ME, HELP ME!"

She instantly recognized the man curled up in the corner of the corridor, knees up to his chest and his head covered in his arms, his form rocking back and forth as he sobbed and chanted uncontrollably.

"Please, please help me, please, please, please, please, please –"

The other volunteers were at the far end, wands up as well, watching the man warily. Nobody knew what to do.

"Reeves?" Hermione called out to the man. The rocking stopped. "Reeves? What's wrong?"

Reeves was one of the victims as well. He was a peculiar character, at times he was very, very energetic and full of life and (to Hermione's and other volunteers' shock) with inhuman strength. He used to help lift stacks and stacks of donated tables that all by himself without even breaking a sweat. He was sweet and Hermione enjoyed his company. Other times though, he would have far-away, glazy eyes as he sat in a corner by himself, watching the sky wistfully.

Hermione thought it was wise not to ask, he may have been scarred badly by the war, just like her and the others. It would be better for him to deal with it first before talking to her about it. She believed that he would tell her, in time.

"Reeves? It's me, Hermione," Hermione tried again, this time softly.

Reeves' head whipped up so quickly she stepped back in surprise.
"'Mione?" He looked up at her with such a fear-stricken expression and tear tracks staining his face that it broke her heart to see the ever-strong Reeves reduced to a weepy mess on the floor.

"Yes, Reeves, it's me. What's the matter?" She put down her wand and tucked in her back pocket.
Reeves immediately got up and ran towards her. The other volunteers raised their wands again; ready to pacify him but Hermione shook her head warningly at them and opened her arms for him.

He launched herself into her arms, almost knocking them both backwards with his super-strength. Hermione rubbed circles on his back soothingly, imploring him to tell her what's plaguing him.

"'Mione, I … I've been fighting this for so long … that's why I … t-that's why I disappear for a week, every month … during – during the f-full m-moon," Reeves sobbed into her neck, "I'm sure y-you've noticed."

Of course Hermione had noticed. She wasn't the smartest witch in her age for nothing. The abnormal strength, the fact that Reeves could smell something a mile away, could hear something a mile away, even tell moods, and the way he seemed to eye raw meat just before they were cooked in the shelter … and most of all, he was always watching the sky with almost impending doom, always, always watching when the sky was about to get dark, with just the hints of a full moon about to come up. And then he'd just mumble a quick goodbye, grab his coat and disappear for a week, only to re-emerge a week later apologizing by saying he had 'something' to sort out.

Nobody else questioned it but Hermione.

Hermione grabbed the sobbing Reeves' shoulder and pushed him gently, just enough to look into her eyes. What she saw almost made her gasp – Reeves' eyes were no longer the friendly blue that she was accustomed to, but it was golden … the colour of – the colour of –

"Were you bitten by a werewolf, Reeves?" Hermione whispered to him, noting that his eyes changed back to blue at her question.
"I – I," He tried, but ended up sobbing into her neck again, "I was – by that Fenrir Greyback –"

Hermione's hands turned cold at that, but she willed on, soothing her friend. He let go of her and looked at her dead in the eye, while gripping her arm.

"That night, I was there – he bit me and it hurt so much, so so much 'Mione, that I begged him to kill me but all he said was 'death is too easy'. He left me there, and I was sure I was going to die, losing so much blood … but I didn't. I woke up two days later, in someone's house – said they found me there, in the middle of the street … I had no wounds, no blood, I was unharmed! The only thing that was still there are the bite marks on my chest and arm – by that … by that monster!" Reeves cried out in anguish.

"But who am I to say …" Reeves said silently this time. "I am now like him … just like him … a monster."
"No! No, you're not, Reeves! You're nothing like him!" Hermione argued. "This is not your fault. We're going to get you help, okay?"
"I tried, 'Mione," he answered, "I asked for help … from St. Mungo's, they sent me away … I went to do my own research, and found that the only thing that could help me, is too expensive in the Potions' shop – the Wolfsbane Potion. I … I'm at my wits' end, 'Mione. I can't ask the Ministry – they'll only send me to Azkaban! You know how they are with werewolves! They'll send me to Azkaban without even questioning me, or they'll kill me straight!"

Hermione's heart wrenched painfully at that.

"Please, you're not going to send me away, are you?" Reeves asked, his eyes flickering between his normal blue and golden, and back again – as if he was fighting to not give in to the inner werewolf. "Please don't, please, please! They'll kill me!" His head fell to his chest, sobbing again.

"I won't, Reeves, you'll have to trust me, I'll do all I can," Hermione said slowly, near-panic as his hands that were on her arms started gripping her – bruising, almost crushing –

The sobbing stopped abruptly, and Hermione tried to loosen his grip, but Reeves only started gripping harder that it made Hermione want to cry out.

"Reeves?" Hermione whispered, her voice almost broken with sudden fear.

"What could a Mudblood possibly do, then?" Reeves said in a menacing growl, head in the same position as earlier.

Hermione felt cold sweat break across her brow, "Reeves, you're going to have to let me go now … you're hurting me. And … and you're not in your right mind."

"Not in my right mind, am I?" At this, Reeves looked up at her, and all flecks of friendly, lovely blue gone from Reeves' eyes. It was pure golden, not friendly, not calming, not familiar … just hostile, angry, and murderous, the colour of an animal set out to kill –

"Scared, Hermione?" Reeves chuckled; his normally perfect and straight teeth were replaced by ominously sharp fangs.
Hermione tried her best to shake her head, but she just stood frozen.

"I can smell your fear – and it is so, so, so delicious," he took a long sniff and chuckled again.
"Please, Reeves – listen to me, you – I know you're in there, please, please don't do this," Hermione tried.
"SHUT UP!" Reeves growled, seizing her by her throat and slamming her against the wall. Hermione was choking, fighting for breath, trying to get his strong hand off her neck with her left hand while her right was trying to get her wand –

The other volunteers were sending hexes and spells towards Reeves but they all bounced back futilely.

Reeves laughed at that. "Silly wizards. Haven't they forgotten? Magic does not have any effect on humans, even from the smartest witch," Reeves growled and grabbed Hermione's wand that was clutched around her right hand whilst she had been trying to Stun him. He then threw it across the corridor.

"You know, since I inherited this – whatever this is called, I have always had this urge to … kill, maim, bite … to just … murder … and I can't take it anymore," Reeves said.
"Please, Reeves, please," Hermione sobbed.
"I asked for help, and what did the others do? Nothing. Well, let's see what happens when they find out that their Golden Girl turns into what they so despise?" Reeves whispered angrily into her ear.
"Please, don't do this, Reeves … please!"

And all she saw after was all white, and an equally white-hot pain licking through every single nerve. She screamed and screamed and begged – but it wouldn't stop. Reeves bit hard into her throat and shoulder, sinking his fangs into her flesh, bones –

She wanted to die. Please, please, please let me die, please.

Then she fell to the floor, in a boneless heap.

Reeves took one last look at her in triumph and fled, jumping out through a glass window.

Hermione couldn't see straight. Her vision was blurry – from pain or tears, she couldn't tell. She was in so much pain.

She vaguely heard footsteps running towards her, some trying to help her up, some staying away – and someone was screaming, and –

"Oh my God! Her throat! Oh my God!"
"She needs St. Mungo's!" an authoritative voice called out, "Hermione, Hermione! Stay with us! Hermione!"

She looked up at the face of the shelter's director, before her vision went black.

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Present

"Professor Granger, I just wanted to ask," a timid sixth year raised her hand in class.
"Yes, Miss Portman?"
"Is our Charms essay due next week or the week after?"
"It's the week after. Speaking of which, I will not be around next week and a substitute teacher will be here to take over, as usual. So please, behave. If I ever hear another complain from her when I return ..." Hermione raised a commanding finger, warning her class.

"Oh, is it the time of the month again, Professor Granger?" a boy at the back of the class – which seemed to remind her of Draco Malfoy, save for the brown hair – yelled and sniggered with his friends.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the jibe. After all, she was sure he meant 'time of the month' in a woman's context, and not in a werewolf context. God forbid, he actually knew what she was.

"Yes, Mister Golding, trust you to know so much about a woman. After all, nobody could be a woman better than you," Hermione said airily and returned to her desk, allowing a small smile to play on her lips as the rest of the class burst into laughter. She could sense the embarrassment of the Golding boy, face probably flushed red, "Class dismissed."

The loud clatter of books being rearranged and feet shuffling out of the class only lasted a minute before she was left completely alone to gather her own things.

"Professor Granger," a voice called from the classroom entrance, and Hermione turned.
"Yes, Prof – Headmistress," she answered. She still could not get used to calling McGonagall 'Headmistress', after having called her 'Professor' for seven years. But Hermione supposed it was different now, they were colleagues after all.

Hermione never thought of the idea of coming back to Hogwarts after finishing school. She planned to work for the Ministry, in the legal department. Circumstances, however, did not allow it and she had to change her plans. She could no longer work for the Ministry or anywhere else really, without completely telling them the truth of who or rather, what she was.

Hogwarts was the best choice for her. McGonagall had been supremely understanding and empathetic about her situation, allowing her to teach Charms and have a week off every month during the full moon. She even got Slughorn to brew her Wolfsbane Potions. And for that, Hermione was eternally grateful.

She had told Harry first of her predicament just months after being bitten. Harry calmed her and told not to worry, and that he'd always be her best friend no matter what. He had even been kind enough to take her up to a werewolf retreat, where Lupin used to go to. There, Hermione had learned how to compartmentalize her newly-acquired senses, strength and the basic survival skills during that 'time of the month'.

Ron, no doubt, had been an idiot about it. Not that he wasn't an idiot before that. They were both meant to discuss getting back together about the same time Hermione got bitten, and right after she told him what had happened, Ron had bolted out of the house, fuming about Hermione 'coming up with stupid excuses just to not get back with him'. After Harry spoke to him, though, he seemed to be very stiff around her. She could smell the fear and intimidation coming off him, and asked him about it. He just said he wouldn't have got back with her, simply because he cannot grasp the fact that Hermione had more strength than him.

"So, I was right. Not only you have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but now you also have the strength of it as well," Hermione rebuked him, Harry falling over from the sofa in bouts of laughter.

Hermione had been rather saddened by the idea of being alone. Harry was now steadily dating some girl, and Ron was busy flinging. She was so sure that she was going to spend the rest of her life alone, now that Ron didn't want her and she doubted men would be thrilled at the idea of her being a werewolf.

"I'm twenty-two, I'm a Charms Professor and I work at Hogwarts. I love books, tea and I'm also a werewolf. But don't worry; I only turn into a wolf once a month for a week. Did I mention how gorgeous I look when I'm in wolf-form, by the way? I'm grey in colour." Hermione snorted at that, shaking her head. She would most definitely have sensed the men wetting their pants way before she saw it.

Things got even worse when she was in heat. She would sweat uncontrollably, and wake up with a tingle between her legs. While she turned into a wolf for only a week, her mating season seemed to last for a month.

She had no idea where and how to find release since she wasn't dating anyone, and the wolf in her seemed to detest every single guy that she saw. Also, she was a virgin. What with the war and keeping Harry alive, she simply did not have the time to lose her virginity, like normal girls. Now that she was abnormal, that fact wasn't going to change at all. Once, she watched Ron work around the kitchen during their normal dinners with Harry on Fridays, vaguely wondering about how it would have been had she lost her virginity to Ron before the battle, during or after.

Her inner wolf had cringed in disgust.

"I shall require your presence at the professors' lounge as soon as you are done gathering your things," McGonagall's voice effectively cutting her musings.
"Of course, Headmistress," Hermione nodded.

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Hermione frowned.

What the fuck?

She frowned harder.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, her thoughts echoed as she stared at the form of one Draco Malfoy.

No, she wasn't frowning because Draco Malfoy was here in Hogwarts, standing at the front with McGonagall in the professors' lounge. In fact, that would have been better. She was frowning because as soon as her eyes landed on him, her heart started beating a million times a second and the same tingle returned between her legs, only this time a hundred times more powerful.

Her inner wolf seemed quite taken with Malfoy, and seemed to produce thousands of lewd images of Malfoy naked, Malfoy crying out with passion, Malfoy making her feel good. The inner wolf whooped for joy at the fact that there is finally! someone worthy of its attention.

The human part of Hermione, and most largely her brain, seemed to protest and almost hurl at the idea. There she was, sitting in the middle of the lounge, debating with herself. Her inner wolf wanted to launch itself at Malfoy so bad that she had to sit with her legs tightly slotted together, her knuckles gripping the sides of the chair so bad they turned white.

"As we all know," McGonagall started, helping Hermione concentrate better and telling the wolf to shut the fuck up, "Professor Slughorn has decided to retire once and for all, leaving the Potions position -"

What kind of position? A voice echoed at the back of Hermione's head. Missionary? Against the wall?

Hermione groaned.
Albeit too loudly that it stopped McGonagall mid-speech, and she sent Hermione a warning look. Hermione cleared her throat and sent her back an apologetic look.

She knew that McGonagall thought she groaned because of the history she had with Malfoy during their school years. Oh, if only she knew.

"Mister Malfoy here, having the proper and the best qualifications we have ever had so far -"

Mmm, the very best …

"Mister Malfoy will be taking over -"

Yes, want you to take me over …

"Let's give him a warm welcome, shall we?"

Her inner voice seemed to have a clever comeback to that and Hermione ignored it by distracting herself with her own too-loud claps.

"Thank you, Headmistress," the cool, resonant voice of Malfoy came from the front. Hermione started sweating a little. "It brings me great pleasure to be working here, after all these years, never have I been happier to return. I hope we can all get along fantastically."

Her eyes raked over Malfoy. He had most definitely retained his handsome features – no longer pointy as he had been in school, but he had filled out nicely. Amazingly. Handsomely. His hair was neatly cropped, making the ends spike up in a very effortless way and Hermione's hand burned at the thought of running her fingers through it. He was still pale, but not sickly pale. Tall, six-foot something, with broad shoulders – though covered in the black professors' uniform, much to the wolf's consternation. What caught Hermione's interest was not only the unearthly handsomeness that Malfoy had for as long as she'd known him, but it was also the eyes. It was Malfoy's best features, and everyone who'd met him would definitely say the same. It was the colour of mercury, the colour of the sky before storm, the colour of snow clouds, almost the same colour of Hermione in wolf-form … but whatever it is, his eyes were heart-stopping, stunning and beautiful.

Hermione never told him, of course. He would have said "I know." with a haughty sniff and walked away.

Malfoy's eyes caught hers while talking, and Hermione felt the tingle between her legs again. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her body's reaction and focused on sending a small smile at Malfoy instead. He gave her a tentative smile back and nodded, before continuing to tell the others where he had studied, etcetera.

There were light refreshments after the meet-and-greet, and Hermione stormed away to the pastry section, wolfing (ironic?) down the tarts. She felt a presence behind her before she turned around.

"Professor Granger," McGonagall nodded.
"Yes, Headmistress."
"Minerva," she insisted ever since Hermione started, and continued, "Since Professor Malfoy is now taking over the Potions position, you may have to speak to him about brewing the Wolfsbane Potions for you."
Hermione's eyes widened.
"Oh, no, no, no. That's not necessary, Head – Minerva," Hermione sputtered, "I really could purchase the Potions myself in Hosgmeade during my free time."
"Nonsense. Why would you ever go through the trouble of doing that when we clearly have a specialist in the building? I know you two have a very dark history but I hope you two can put it past you and behave like civilly, like proper colleagues and proper adults."
"Yes, but I don't think he -" Hermione was cut off by McGonagall's stern stare. "Yes, I will speak to him about it, Minerva."
"Very well," she nodded and left.

She continued eating her tarts and thinking about how to break the news to Malfoy without making him run away in retaliation before she felt him.

Smelled him, more like.

She caught a whiff of his cologne first – his rich, musky, manly and mouth-watering cologne that she smelled right after she stepped into the professors' lounge much earlier. But she could smell him now, so clear, so near … so dense. Beneath that cologne however, was the smell of something entirely Malfoy, and it was so addictive and almost-tangible that she could almost taste the natural scent of him. Then she felt his presence – powerful, confident and at ease.

"Granger," his cool, calm voice came from behind her and she knew, she knew that her panties were now beyond soiled.

She turned around and smiled broadly, hoping she would be able to cover how flustered she felt.
"Malfoy," she held out her hand, and Malfoy almost looked surprised at her sudden 'enthusiasm'. He took her hand gently and shook it – firm and poised. She ignored how the wolf seemingly fed on the jolt of electricity she suddenly felt from touching Malfoy and continued smiling.

"How have you been, Malfoy?" Hermione asked politely.
"Fantastic, and you?" He grinned at her.
"I'm well, thank you. What have you been up to these past five years? I haven't seen you around at all."
"Been looking for me, have you?" He raised an eyebrow and smiled cheekily, "Well I left England for a while, and I continued my studies in France, in -"
"Potions," she nodded.
"Yes, Potions."
"So why did you decide to come back here to teach? I always assumed that you were the type to start your own business of Potion-selling."
"Well, I do have a business in France. I'm about to open another shop in Hogsmeade this year. Teaching is just one of the many things I do."

Oh, really? What else can you do?

She shoved the inner wolf away in her mind and concentrated on the conversation.
This is good, this is good. We are civil, we are polite. Now, how do I tell him to brew me Wolfsbane Potions?

Well, Malfoy, I really do need a favour from you. And it's not just a one-time thing. It's once a month. Once a month, FOREVER. I'm a werewolf. I need Wolfsbane. You're a Potions Master and you brew potions. So could you please put our past behind and help me out a little here?

"I see," Hermione nodded, "Impressive."
"I try," he said cockily, but with a friendly smile, "So what have you been up to?"

Hmm, well, where do I start? I got bitten by a werewolf. So now I'm just trying to keep myself in disguise while teaching Charms here in Hogwarts.

"Nothing extravagant, yet. And I have been nowhere as busy as you, definitely," she grinned.
"I honestly thought you'd be off married to the Weasel with plenty of children."
"Oh, yes, about that," she rolled her eyes, "Didn't happen. And thank Merlin for that."
"Funny, I thought you two were destined for each other."
"Well, things change. And sometimes the impossible happens. Like you and I, here we are having a civil conversation when years ago we would have thought it would never happen out of our own accord."
"Too true," he agreed.
"And what about you, Malfoy? Weren't you supposed to be wed to Astoria Greengrass?"
"Oh, didn't happen," he laughed, a sound that Hermione caught and stored in her memory for later.

Single! Single! Single! Her inner wolf whooped again.

She looked down at her watch. It was three hours until the evening that Friday, and she needed to go prepare for her transformation during the full moon that night.

"Well, Malfoy, it was really nice talking to you. I'll be seeing you around, yeah?" She said sweetly, meaning every word.
"Yes, of course, Granger," he nodded.
"Take care and have a lovely weekend."

She turned on her heels, grabbing a tart on the way out before she heard him call out her name again.

"Yes, Malfoy?" She turned to look at his serious and determined expression.
"I just wanted to … to apologize for my behaviour, for the way I treated you when we were in school," he said, looking straight into her eyes.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock.

"Well, … well I, … apology accepted, Malfoy," she said, still surprised, "Thank you."
He nodded and sent her a small smile.

"On another note, what are you doing this weekend, Granger?" he asked.
"Well, I'll be busy this weekend … I have things to attend to," she said cryptically, "Why?"
"I was just thinking maybe we could go for a drink sometime, seeing as you're the only one I can really speak to in here, and plus you're my age," he laughed.
"Oh, right," Hermione started blushing. "I'd love to, but I can't. Maybe the week after next, if you're still up for it?"
"Most definitely," he smiled his heart-stopping smile.

She offered one last smile to him before escaping the place, trying to fight of her sudden, strong and violent attraction towards Malfoy.

Marking all the papers that needed to be marked within two hours, she quickly gulped down her Wolfsbane, staring out into the evening.

Malfoy is sexy as hell, and his changed character makes him even more appealing than ever.

Hermione walked out to the Hogwarts grounds, towards the Forbidden Forest without anybody noticing her. Before she disappeared into the forest, she caught a flash of blond hair coming from the Quidditch Pitch. Malfoy was flying with the members of the Slytherin Quidditch team and he looked stunning.

And he smelled stunning, all the way from where Hermione was.

Shit. Hermione shut her eye and continued walking into the Forest.

And as the moon came into full view, she felt her limbs and bones rearrange themselves.

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She meandered through the forest, stopping by the stream to drink and to gaze at her reflection. It wasn't the normal bushy-haired Hermione that she was so used to seeing every morning. But once a month, for a week, this is what she would see.

The face of a wolf – a grey wolf – gazing back at her with golden eyes. Her eyes were not hostile and violent like the ones on Greyback or Reeves for that matter. Hers were much gentler, calmer and aware.

Thanks to the Wolfsbane, it actually allowed the wolf to still have their human consciousness and Hermione was able to accept the way she was with it. When she was in wolf form, she stayed away from the castle and stayed in the Forest. She had created a den for herself among the trees, completely hidden from sight and slept there until she turned back to her human form.

Hagrid knew of this, of course. Whenever he caught sight of her in wolf form, he would just wave at her and bellow, "Hey there, 'Mione!". Sometimes she would sit with him by the small lake and listen to Hagrid's stories, comforted by Hagrid's presence and voice. Other times, Hagrid would bring her raw meat and she would feast while Hagrid scratched her ears.

Sometimes, while her head rested on Hagrid's lap and while he was droning on and on about a dragon, she would sigh contentedly and think, all is good.

It was on Wednesday, mid-week of her transformation that she woke up in the middle of the night, catching a familiar smell.

Hagrid had given her so much raw meat to eat that by the time she was finished, she was ready to go back to sleep. She retreated to her den and fell into slumber.

She sniffed the air again, and blinked.

It was Malfoy.

Her head whipped up and she could tell that Malfoy was moving.

What's Malfoy doing here in the middle of the night?

She decided to get up, and as quietly as she could, padded towards the source of that intoxicating smell.

Malfoy was by the lake that she usually spent time with Hagrid, and he seemed to be collected something off a tree root. She looked towards the bag that was by Malfoy's feet, and it was filled with roots, leaves and other things that she knew to be for brewing potions.

Ah, so Malfoy's just here to collect things for potions.

She retreated before she had this weird urge to jump on Malfoy, what with his smell being too overpowering at this proximity. She was quiet, but the twig that she stepped on wasn't.

Malfoy immediately moved to a standing position, wand at the ready. His smell changed to that of bravery and collectedness.

"Who's there?" He called out evenly.

Shit.

She moved her paw from the offending twig and repositioned herself, hoping that if she made no more noise Malfoy would leave her alone, but there was another twig next to her and she stepped on it again.

Double shit.

"Show yourself," Malfoy demanded, inching closer to the bush where she was hidden. She hoped fervently that Malfoy would just give it up and go back to his bloody ingredient-collecting but Malfoy was not known for leaving things alone.

Before she decided to run for it, she felt and smelled another presence behind Malfoy. It wasn't human or werewolf.

It was close to her, but more animal more than anything.

It was one of those stray wolves that sometimes appear in the forest. It was a quiet growl at first, and it alerted Malfoy. The other wolf, a black one, was at a hostile position and was ready to launch at Malfoy. She didn't want Malfoy to hex the animal, because shit happened when one of the bunch was hurt – more wolves will come.

She stepped out from the bushes, and Malfoy looked from her to the other wolf and back again – as if deciding which one to hex first. He was still calm and collected and Hermione bet that he was probably calculating his actions.

Hermione acted fast, she moved past Malfoy and stood in front of the other wolf, growling at it.

Leave, she growled at it. At first, the wolf refused to back down, territorial as they were, but Hermione was more powerful. Leave now, she repeated, taking another step towards it. The black wolf growled at her one last time before relaxing into a non-hostile position, quietly leaving them by the lake.

Hermione returned to her usual stance and turned to Malfoy, who was now looking at her with no sign of fear or unfriendliness. His face was just a normal, comfortable expression, as if he bumped into a werewolf every day.

Well maybe he does, collecting ingredients in dangerous places and all.

After a while of staring at each other, Hermione's form illuminated by the moonlight, Malfoy moved first.

"Well, hello there," he said gently, putting his wand back to its holster. Hermione continued to watch him.

He quietly approached her, hand held out. Hermione did nothing that would alert him, so she kept still and waited for him to come to her.

Once his hand touched her snout, she licked his hand and he laughed quietly.

While her inner self was buzzing with the taste of Malfoy's skin.

She nearly convulsed with pleasure as soon as Malfoy started threading his finger through her thick grey fur and she moaned appreciatively deep inside.

"Where did you come from?" he kneeled in front of her and looked into her face.

Fuck, but Malfoy was beautiful.
With the moonlight illuminating them like that, Malfoy looked ethereal.

"You're beautiful," he said to her.

Oh, so I'm beautiful now but not in my human form?

Hermione thought it was idiotic to be jealous of oneself. But for now, it was better to enjoy Malfoy's ministrations.

Oh, please don't stop, don't you ever stop –

"Professor Malfoy!" a voice called out and Hermione immediately backed away. Malfoy looked towards the source of the noise and back at her. Hermione immediately fled back into the bushes, but close enough to still watch what was going on.

A woman appeared out of the trees, and Hermione growled quietly.

It was Professor Williams. She was teaching Astrology (or according to the older male students, 'Ass-trology'). She was also new, just a few months before Malfoy came in and she was instantly popular. After all, she was blonde, buxom and beautiful. She got plenty of love letters and sweets and the like.

The only time Hermione ever got love letters and sweets was when she was in heat. By then, her pheromone output would go up so high combined with the wolf's sexual frustration that she'd end up attracting thirteen-year-olds all the way to Filch himself. During that time, most of the male students would be in a daze whenever she passed by.

While Williams got sickeningly sweet poetries, Hermione got sickeningly explicit details of what the men would want to do to her.

Ugh. And it wasn't even frequent. It only happened twice a year.

"I thought I had lost you," Williams laughed breathlessly, and Hermione clawed the earth beneath her paws.
"No, I was just here collecting the other ingredients."
"I see," Williams flipped her and looked up at the moon. "It sure is beautiful tonight, isn't it?"

"Full moons usually are," Malfoy said nonchalantly and went back to his things. Hermione secretly jumped for joy at Malfoy's flippant reply. Bloody Williams probably thought it would be a perfect setting for a clandestine first kiss between two gorgeous professors. Damn her.

Hermione growled.
Wait, why am I being so possessive? It's not like Malfoy's even mine. I'm just attracted to him, nothing else.
Hermione growled again.

"It's also very quiet here," Williams continued.

Ugh, no one fucking cares, Williams!

"Yes, it is," Malfoy replied noncommittally.
"This time in about six months, there would be plenty of animals around here. Mating season, you see."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, not long now."

Hermione growled at the obvious suggestiveness of Williams' comment, and also at the fact that this time in six months, she'd be sweating profusely and having lots of admirers and having the uncontrollable urge to rip the clothes off Malfoy.

They spoke about something boring for a while before they both left for the castle.

Hermione fell into a fitful sleep that night and had black-and-white dreams of Malfoy and Williams snogging each other and of Filch serenading her with a guitar.

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"Granger," Malfoy called, "Hey, Granger!"

Hermione's knees almost gave out at the sudden jolt of lust that made its way from her spine all the way to between her legs. She fell against the wall to steady herself before she stood up straight.

"Ye-yes, Malfoy?" She stammered.
"Where've you been the whole week?" he asked, walking next to her as they made their way towards the Great Hall for breakfast.
"I was sorting some stuff out. Why, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, I just thought I'd be seeing you a lot but you seemed to have disappeared on me for a whole week."
"Yeah well, don't be surprised the next time it happens. It happens every month. A lot of things to sort out, you see," she laughed nervously.
"Oh yes, the students were telling me about your famous 'time of the month'," he chuckled.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

They sat at the table and much to Hermione's pleasure and torture, Malfoy's seat was next to hers. She had to endure sitting next to him and replying to him while he looked like that and while he smelled like that, so close to her.

The Hogwarts' professors' black uniform never looked so delectable on anyone before, but trust Malfoy to make it look like the sexiest thing ever.
Hermione knew that if Malfoy was her professor, she'd fail his class on purpose (yes she would!) just to get some extra and private tutoring.

"Anyway, did you know that there's a werewolf in the Forbidden Forest?" he asked conversationally, and she noticed that they had been walking side by side towards the Great Hall.

Hermione almost choked on her pumpkin juice.

"A w-what?" She sputtered, while Malfoy handed her a napkin.
"A werewolf, Granger," he rolled his perfect eyes.
"Well, Malfoy, there are plenty of wolves in the forest. What makes you think your eyes did not deceive you?"
"I'm not an idiot, Granger. I'm a Potions Master, and I know a werewolf once I see one."
"I see. Maybe it was Hagrid."
"No, Granger, I could tell Hagrid apart from wolves," he said exasperatedly.
"I know, I meant that maybe it was Hagrid in wolf form. Maybe he was bitten."
"Impossible, Granger."
"How come?"
"Because," he stopped, his eyes resting on his plate for a second, then back to Hermione, "Because the one I saw was beautiful."

Hermione almost came on the spot, and thousands of lewd images of Malfoy naked and her naked and both of them naked frothing together came to her mind and she had to grip something hard to stop herself from moaning out loud.

"Ouch, Granger, what gives?" Malfoy said, looking at something between them.
"What?" she said, eyes glazed over.
"You're gripping my hand, and it hurts," Malfoy said pointedly.

She looked between them, and indeed, she was definitely crushing his hand. His beautiful, perfect hand – touching hers – touching her everyfuckingwhere ohyespleasedon'tstopdon'teverstopMalfoy –

"I – oh shit, I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said, face burning, "I didn't realize."
"It's okay. I know you're insulted that I called the werewolf beautiful and there was nowhere in hell Hagrid would transform into something like that," he grinned.

"Yeah, stop being a git, he's a really nice man," she frowned, and pretended to be offended. It sounded pathetic even to her.

"Granger, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I am. Why?"
"You just -" he frowned, "You just look a little flushed. Are you having a fever?"
"No, I'm just -"

And just before she could finish that sentence, Hermione felt a hand close over her forehead. Malfoy was checking her temperature.

She was going to spontaneously combust because of the skin contact.

"Granger, I think -"

Ohyespleaseyesyesyespleasedon'teverstoptouchingple asepleaseplease –

Hermione passed out.

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Something cold was pressing on her forehead and it felt good.

Hermione moaned appreciatively.

"I take that as a good sign," she heard Malfoy's voice saying.
"Malfoy?"
"Granger," he responded quietly.

"What happened?" Hermione opened her eyes slowly, to find Malfoy's glorious buttocks sitting at the side of her bed in the Hospital Wing, and he was currently wiping her forehead with a cold cloth.

"You passed out," he said simply, "Fever."

Fever when you touch me … the wolf howled within.

"Really?" she said wryly, even though she knew that wasn't the case.
"Yeah, but you're better now."
"Thanks, Malfoy," she nodded, sitting up fully, "What are you doing this weekend?"

Malfoy's eyes widened a fraction at the sudden change of subject, "Nothing, I suppose. Why?"
"Still up for that drink in Hogsmeade?"

He grinned, and her loins burned ferociously.

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And with that, a steady friendship had settled between them for the next six months. They constantly had witty banter, arguments like an old married couple and yet they sit through breakfast, lunch and dinner together at the Great Hall (much to Williams' disconsolation and Hermione's pleasure). During weekends, (when Hermione wasn't transforming) they would drop by at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade and have butterbeer.

Hermione never knew she would have enjoyed Malfoy's company that much – well, it's Draco and Hermione now to the both of them – Hermione couldn't stop blushing every time she thought of it. And each time they met, Hermione would have to hold back from thinking about this huge crush she currently had on him. Honestly, it grew more and more every time they were together and she frowned at how little of an impact it had on him and how huge it was on her.

She kept waking up to soiled panties because of him, damn it!

She contemplated telling him about what she truly was – which is the werewolf (not a girl with a huge never-ending crush on him and is secretly lusting over him and imagining him naked whenever he was around). She really, really wanted to get it out of her system and have a clean, no-secret friendship (and lust on her side) towards Draco without having to lie to him all the time. And also, to stop spending money on expensive Wolfsbane potions and have him brew some for her instead.

But then, Draco Malfoy beat her to it.

"You know," Draco's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "I had the most interesting conversation with McGonagall this morning."
"Uh huh?" she looked up at him from her glass of butterbeer, "What was it about?"

"It was about you, actually," he answered.

She stared at him for long moments.

"Oh? What about me?"
"You see, that's what I found funny because – she came to me, asking about how the Wolfsbane potion-brewing was getting along, whether we had enough ingredients at the school, or enough stock -"

Hermione gulped and her hands turned cold.

Oh shit, oh shit.

"And I was confused, so I asked her 'whatever for?'"
Hermione watched him.

"Then she said, 'you mean Professor Granger did not tell you of the condition that she has?'" Draco continued, "I had no idea what to say to that, so I just played along. I said, of course I knew what condition she had, she just insisted on buying Wolfsbane elsewhere."

Hermione focused on her butterbeer glass.

"And then," Draco added, "McGonagall said the most interesting thing. She said 'Goodness, that girl is as stubborn as a Gryffindor. I can't believe that as close as you two are, she would not even let you brew a Wolfsbane potion for her lycanthropy. After all, it would do so much good to have a ready supply her for her in school during the full moon than having to go through the trouble of getting it elsewhere. Professor Slughorn had no qualms about brewing it for her every month!'"

Hermione was pale by then. She refused to meet Draco's eyes – eyes that were undoubtedly, pinning her with an intense gaze.

"Granger, look at me."

Hermione sighed and looked down at her hands.

"Granger," he called, forcefully this time, "Look at me."

She did, and met his penetrating mercurial eyes.
"Were you ever planning on tell me?" he asked quietly, "Hmm?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly, "There were times when I wanted to tell you, and then I would change my mind. But believe me, I tried."
"What could possibly be so hard about telling me that vital piece of information?"
"What, did you want me to talk about my day and classes and then just end it with a 'hey, by the way Draco, I'm a werewolf. What would you like for dinner?'?"
"Yes, that would have worked fine, at least you got the message across," Draco was looking at her accusingly by now.

She sighed, stood up and left change on the table before leaving the place. Draco followed closely behind her.

"Well?"
"You don't understand, Draco. All I was worried about is how you would take it later on – like Ron, for example, he seemed to be fine with it at first but until now he still feels scared or intimidated, like I'm just going to transform in front of him and bite his head off," she said miserably.
"And just what makes you think I'm going to be exactly like the Weasel? We don't share the same amount of IQ, just so you know," Draco was attacking her now, and she didn't like it.

But the wolf likes it, a voice flitted through her mind.

"But the repercussion is the same, your view of me is going to change – forever," she countered.
"It never would have, if you had told me earlier," he insisted, "At this rate, I might. Merlin knows what else you've been keeping from me."

Well … I'm halfway in love with you and the wolf in me insists that you shag me against the wall all the time?

"What does it matter?" she snarled, stopping in her tracks to look at Draco – Draco who was so gorgeous right now, illuminated by the dim street light in Hogsmeade, Draco that was looking at her in concern, Draco who was just so wonderful, and Draco who is just so … so … delicious.

"I'm your friend," he stated simply.

And Hermione felt like her heart started bleeding and healing at the same time.

She shut her eyes.
Of course, of course Draco would never feel the same way about her like the way she feels about him. She was Hermione Granger the know-it-all, and if that wasn't bad enough, she was Hermione Granger the werewolf.

"Yes, Draco. And I really, really treasure that. You have no idea," she smiled a little, "I'm just … I just didn't know how to tell you."

He sighed, and grabbed her shoulders.

"And I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Thinking about it, I would have postponed telling you for as long as possible, had I been in your shoes."

And just like that, Hermione fell a little bit more in love with Draco.

They both nodded and quietly walked back to the castle.

"So that day, the grey wolf … that was you, wasn't it?" Draco asked.
"Yeah," she answered.

He turned to her and grinned.
"You are beautiful, you know," he said, "And don't bother buying more Wolfsbane. I'll start brewing them for you."
She looked at him and shook her head, "Thank you."

By the time they got back to Hogwarts, Hermione accepted the fact that she would be going down the old road of unrequited love.

And she needed to get over it, fast.

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As if the universe was playing a great big joke on her, she couldn't get over it in time. In time for her mating season, that is.

Her insides were ablaze as she watched Williams flirt shamelessly with Draco, and Draco smiling in return at her advances. Whether it was out of sheer politeness or if he really gave two shits about the bint, Hermione really didn't care. She was livid. And so was the wolf in her.

Whenever she caught sight of Draco, the same sensation of having her heart bleed and heal at the same time struck her and she had no idea what to do about it.

Not to mention that her mating season was getting really, really close.

This time of the year was particularly hard on her, harder than lycanthropy itself. This was the time she ever felt popular, albeit in a bad and dangerous way. Men would start to stalk her left and right, start throwing herself at her – because of the allure the wolf was giving out.

And worse, this went on from three weeks all the way to two months, depending on how fast the wolf decides to give up finding a mate for that particular mating season. Hermione wished and prayed that this time it would be quick and easy to survive the season.

She highly doubted it though. With Draco around, and the wolf setting its sight and attention on him, it would be infinitely hard.

She did the most logical thing to do in her situation.

She avoided Draco Malfoy like the plague.

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"Mating season, you say?" An amused, low voice echoed around her.
"What?" Hermione asked, trying to get up from her bed. She found that she couldn't. Her hands were tied to her bedpost. "H-hey! Why am I tied up?"

"Because it's much better this way, don't you think, Hermione?" suddenly a face appeared and she gasped in shock. It was Draco. He was still in his teaching uniform and he was approaching Hermione, who was tied to her bed and currently frozen.

With one flick of his wand, her clothes disappeared completely and she gasped. Not only because it was cold, but because she was embarrassed.

"W-what do you think you're doing?!" she demanded.
"What you've wanted me to do ever since you laid your eyes on me, Hermione," Draco chuckled, mounting the bed and straddling her.

Fuck, but he looked beautiful on top of her like that.

"I've always wondered what you were hiding underneath those virginal robes you always insisted on wearing, Hermione," Draco said, smiling cheekily, all the while looking at her up and down – she was completely exposed and open underneath him.

She shut her eyes out of embarrassment. Her face was scalding hot.

She felt him shift above her and she could feel his breath raking over her face. His nose nudged her cheek and she turned her head to the side.

"Don't be shy now," Draco whispered, licking the shell of her ear, "There's no need to be shy of me."
"It's you, that's why I'm shy," Hermione managed to croak.

Draco chuckled, it was a dark, sexy sound and it made her shiver.

"My adorable Hermione," he shook his head, as his fingers trailed lightly over neck, down to her chest, to her stomach, her navel and they rested just outside her lower lips.

"What shall I do with you?" he asked her, his fingers rubbing teasing circles around that area – where, to her utmost confusion, was already dripping wet in anticipation.

Slowly but surely, she felt his fingers enter her and her entire body convulsed. She arched and let out a long scream.

"Yes, that's it … don't hold back," he purred, "Just let it all out."

He withdrew his fingers slowly and went back in so fast that whenever he did it, she let out a scream. He went deeper and deeper – and her eyes rolled back and she shut her eyes, all the while moaning nonsense into the air.

"So, Hermione," he said casually, as if he was talking to her during tea, all the while teasing her slowly – so slowly that it was beginning to irritate Hermione, "Tell me."

Please don't stop, please don't stop –

His fingers left her and she groaned in frustration at the loss. Her eyes began to leak tears and Draco bent down to kiss them away, and her eyes widened as she felt Draco's length press against her.

"Tell me," he asked again, grinding against her and Hermione was helpless against the need to rock back against him, shivering at the delicious friction, "Tell me, Hermione."
"Tell you what?" Hermione moaned brokenly.

Just do it, just do it please please please just do it –

He felt his tongue lick her neck just as he placed his tip at her entrance.

"Do you want me, Hermione?"

He slid inside of her and –

"YES!" Hermione shouted in sheer ecstasy – she didn't know if she had answered his question or was just shouting in triumph, but all she knew was yesyesyesyesyes –

And her eyes snapped open.

She saw the familiar ceiling of her chambers, and the sunlight streaming in through her window, and somehow, it was exceedingly hot in her room.

It was a dream.

A nice dream, her inner wolf suggested.

Hermione groaned and kicked her sheets away in frustration and buried her head in her pillow, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her legs were trembling and there was a constant, nagging ache between her legs and she knew that her panties were soiled, judging by how she felt when she moved her legs to rest in a foetal position.

She was planning to go back to sleep. And just when she shut her eyes, her alarm rang.

She screamed again.

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"Shit, did you even sleep?" Hermione's reflection said to her the next few days when she went to go check on herself during her break time.

She had just finished another shower – the fifth of that day. She kept having lewd, dirty and kinky dreams of Draco and whenever she woke up, she would be frustrated and her panties would be soiled. Not to mention there's that ache between her legs, reminding her of how frustrated the wolf is.

People have started following her left and right, and letters were beginning to show up on her desk. She also could not stop sweating. She felt like she was in an inferno, even after casting several cooling charms on herself.

That could only mean one thing; she was in heat.

Or rather, the wolf was in heat but Hermione had long stopped denying that she was now one with the wolf. So yes, she was in heat. And whenever she seemed to think of or see Draco Malfoy, she would burn up like volcanic lava and start sweating profusely.

She had been avoiding him for a week already, and it has been successful so far. Draco hadn't bothered looking for her or owling her, so Hermione did not know whether she should feel glad or hurt about that.

Whenever she saw him at the other end of a corridor, she would turn around and disappear to another direction. Whenever she saw Draco and Williams feasting in the Great Hall, she'll go back and ask the elves to send her food.

She found it hard to concentrate in class, boys were cat-calling and whistling so much that she had to Silence them.

Filch wouldn't stop following her. She avoided visiting Hagrid.

She was so, very tired.

It didn't help that whenever she shut her eyes, Draco's smouldering grey eyes would be looking at seductively. It would make her shiver every time and she wanted to rip her hair out of her scalp out of frustration.

She went to see Pomfrey, telling her that she's been tired all the time and been having bad dreams for a week now, just to get a Replenishing Potion and a Dreamless Sleep Potion.

It would have been easier to go to Draco for them, but she thought that it would be a very, very bad idea; no matter much the wolf seemed to like it.

Whilst getting ready for bed, she glared at the Dreamless Sleep Potion.

"You better be helping me through this," she muttered to it.

She gulped down the entire content and jumped into bed, with a hopeful smile on her face.

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She was staring at her blank parchment with a quill in her hand.

"Miss Granger," a voice called out to her from the front.
She looked up to see Draco watching her from the desk. She took in her surroundings. She was in the dungeons – in the classroom, alone. With Draco.

"Yes?" she asked.
"Yes, sir," he snarled.

Her eyes widened.

"Yes, sir?"
"Are you done with that essay?" He asked with one eyebrow raised, waiting for her to respond.

"Umm, no, sir," she answered, "What am I supposed to write about?"
He rolled his eyes and got up from his desk.

"Granger, weren't you listening earlier?" He said, coming to stand right in front of her desk, watching her predatorily.
"No, sir, sorry. What was it?"
"I said I wanted a five-thousand-foot essay on the effects of Gillyweed," he said.
"F-f-five thousand? You must be joking!"
He raised an eyebrow.

"I do not joke, Miss Granger, I'll have you know that if you do not complete this essay I will not hesitate to fail you."
"Fail me? But -"

She paused.

"This is a dream!" she exclaimed, standing up from her desk and looked into Draco's eyes. "This is most definitely a dream. First of all, I am failing a class, really? And second of all, we're the same age, Malfoy. I'm not your student."

Draco was quiet for a moment.

"Not my student, huh?" he asked quietly, before moving around the desk to pin her against it.

He was close, so close – she could feel his breath over her face and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Yes, because you –" she tried.
"Because I?" he purred into her ear, his finger suddenly sliding up her left thigh to tease the hem of her too-short Hogwarts skirt.
"Because you most definitely don't want me this way," she said a little breathlessly.
Draco pulled back grinned fondly at her, using his free hand to tuck a curl behind her ear.

"Silly, silly Granger," he said, "Of course I want you."
"But -"
"No buts, isn't this evidence enough?" he said and he pressed against her, and instantly, Hermione felt his hard length confined in his trousers – pressing eagerly against her.

Hermione gasped.

"See, Granger? Look what you do to me," he whispered into her ear, causing her to tremble in desire.

It was perfect. He was perfect. Everything was perfect. And that's exactly what was wrong.

It wasn't the real Draco.

"Stop thinking, Granger. I can literally hear you thinking," Draco said, suddenly lifting her by her hips and planting her onto the desk, legs spread so he could fit snugly between them.

He began to loosen her tie, and unbutton her shirt deftly.

"What are you doing, Draco?" she asked.
He ignored her, hands gliding in between her legs and stroked her there with his finger, and again, she was confused to find that it was soaked.

She felt a jolt of electricity run down her spine and she arched towards him. The rest happened in a blur, he used his thumbs to hook the waistband of her knickers and he smoothly slid them down and off her legs. She glanced at it and saw that it was gleaming with her fluids.

"Draco, isn't anyone going to come in?" she asked, not that she cared.
"Isn't that better?" he whispered, licking her neck and her chin while his hands were everyfuckingwhere – "they could watch me take you, watch you moan and watch as I make you scream my name."

Hermione shivered again and her legs tightened around him reflexively, and shivered more violently as she felt his hardness press against her bare lower lips.

"I want you, Draco," she whispered to him and he grinned.
"I know," he placed a chaste kiss on her lips and quickly unzipped his trousers before positioning himself at her entrance.

She couldn't wait anymore. She tightened her legs around him in a bid to get him closer, deeper – anything –

And he granted her wish in one, fluid motion.

She called out his name worshipfully and he kept chanting her name – "Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione" – like a prayer –

And in the midst of their coupling, Hermione saw the classroom door open and hundreds and hundreds of students saw them – connecting, thrusting, grinding, moaning and groaning and screaming on the desk – like animals –

And it was the hottest thing she had ever felt, or experienced, and just when she was close, so close –

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Her eyes opened.

There was an owl tapping at her window, and Hermione had the urge to grab her wand and hex it. She stood on wobbly legs, trying not to think of the hundredth wet dream of Draco Malfoy that she just had walked towards to window to let the bird in. She ripped the parchment off the owl's leg and fed it some owl treat.

You alright? Haven't seen/spoken to you in a while. Still up for tonight?

DM

She shut her eyes and almost sobbed at that second.

It was their weekly get-together at The Three Broomsticks. But how could she possibly go when she was clearly avoiding him and lusting after him – more so now that she was currently in heat?

She reluctantly wrote back:

Can't tonight, sorry. Reschedule for next week maybe?

HG

She took out another parchment and began to pen a letter to Harry. She needed to get away from Hogwarts – from Draco Malfoy. Even if it was for one just one night.

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"Wow, 'Mione – you look like you haven't slept in well, ages," Harry said as soon as she stumbled out of his fireplace that evening.

"I haven't, or at least I haven't done it properly in almost two weeks," she said sadly, before Harry enveloped her in a hug.

"Aww, we'll fix you right up, yeah?" He said.
"So where are we going?"

"A Muggle club," Harry grinned. "But before that, tell me what's been bothering you. I could tell from your letter, you know."

Hermione told her of her struggle, and Harry listened eagerly, drinking in every detail.

"Wow, so … Draco Malfoy, huh?" Harry said after she was finished.
"Yeah, so … I just, you know, needed to get away before I go crazy. Also, can I stay here tonight?"
"Of course you can, 'Mione. You're always welcome."

"What would Anna say?"
"Oh, no … we, umm, we broke up," he said, "Just over a week ago."
"Oh, Harry, I am so sorry," she hugged him again.
"No, well … it's alright. I'm going out with you tonight and I'm not going to think of Anna, and you're not going to think of Malfoy."

"Definitely," she smiled, as she went into the guest bedroom to get ready for her night out with Harry.

S.O.S She's in disguise, S.O.S She's in disguise
There's a she-wolf in the closet

Coming out, coming out, coming out!

Hermione groaned at the song that the Muggle club had remixed.

Harry seemed to be enjoying himself – ladies were throwing herself at him. Not that Hermione ever wondered why, Harry was most definitely very, very attractive, anyone could see that.

Darling it is no joke, it is lycanthropy
The moon's awake now with eyes wide open
My body's craving, so feed the hungry

Hermione glared at the DJ, who seemed intent on reminding her why she was here and who was plaguing her mind.

There's a she-wolf in your closet
Open up and set her free!
There's a she-wolf in your closet
Let it out so she can breathe!

She rubbed her temples and shut her eyes, waiting until Harry got sick of this club and decides to leave.

"Hey, you alone?" A voice came from in front of her and she inwardly groaned. This was the twenty-second guy of the night, and it was getting increasingly difficult for her to send them away.

Her inner wolf seemed to reject the guy even before Hermione took a look at them.

"Sorry, I'm not interested," Hermione said as politely as she could. She opened her eyes and saw a rather good-looking bloke, but he was obviously drunk and took in most of her pheromones.

"Aw, come on," he gripped her shoulder so hard that it shocked Hermione, "Wannadancewimme?"
"No, thanks. Go find somebody else."
"Aw, that's rude, come on," he kept pulling hard at her shoulder. Hermione immediately put his hand over his on her shoulder and gripped.

She gripped so hard she heard a few cracks before the man yowled in pain. He withdrew his hand, massaged it and looked at her in pure shock – sobered up – and left her.

"Howl you doing, 'Mione?" Harry put his arm around her shoulder and laughed. He was already pleasantly tipsy.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his pun, "I'm alright. You? Having a good time?"
"Yeaaaaaaaaah! But I think we need to go home – I've got training tomorrow … and, and … yeah. Need to go."
"Yeah, let's go. I'll Apparate us."

Hermione jumped up so fast, she was so eager to get home and get some sleep. Well, maybe get some proper rest. She didn't want to sleep. She knew that if she fell asleep she'd dream of him again. Such longing and desire was going to kill her one day.

As soon as they reached Harry's house, Harry was stumbling everywhere and Hermione had to steady him.

"Hey, hey, easy there," she said, "I'll walk you to your room."
"Thanks, 'Mione."

And just before they made it past the corridor to his bedroom, a woman appeared from Harry's bedroom. It was Anna.

"Harry?" she called out, and looked at Hermione, "Hey … Hermione."
"Hey," Hermione said awkwardly.

"Anna?" Harry blinked.
"I am … so sorry, Harry … about what happened, I just … I miss you," she said quietly, looking at Hermione over and over –

Hermione got it.

"I, umm, best be going, Harry. You take care, yeah? See you, Anna!" She planted a kiss on Harry's cheek before Disapparating.

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She arrived in the middle of the familiar, dark surrounding of her chambers in Hogwarts. She buried her head in her hands and sighed heavily, shaking her head.

"Fuck, what's happening to me," she muttered.

"I wonder the same thing, too," a voice called out from a far corner and Hermione immediately whipped out her wand.

The light clicked open to reveal Draco Malfoy, sitting cross-legged in her armchair by the bookshelves, looking like he owned the place.

"Draco?" she said, and immediately, snippets of her dirty dreams of Draco Malfoy flittered around in her vision and she tried hard to focus on the real thing right in front of her.

"Hermione," he answered coolly, "Or shall I go back to Granger now, seeing how we haven't been on speaking terms for almost two weeks?"
"Why – when did you get here?" She asked, ignoring his question.
"You should be able to know that, shouldn't you? Being a werewolf and all," he replied with a smug grin.

Hermione sniffed the air in front of her and smelled nothing that was Draco Malfoy – only the trees, the sheets, the grass – but no Draco Malfoy.

Her eyes narrowed.
"You used a Masking Spell," she said.
"Genius," he nodded and smirked at her, "Thought I'd make my entrance more dramatic."
"Yeah, well, it was dramatic enough," she said, and she sunk into the other armchair opposite him, rubbing her face and threading her fingers through her unruly mane, "To what do I owe this honour?"

She tried to fight the aching, the longing, the desire, the inner wolf demanding for him – he's just right there, get him, just touch him – but she was simply too tired, so it was just a dull, resonating twinge all over her body.

"Why, Hermione, I didn't know you felt that way about me," he said amusedly.

I love you, I want you, be mine, please be mine, touch me –

Her head shot up and she looked at him.
"What?"
Draco looked at her for a moment.

"You look like shit, Hermione," he said casually.

She laughed sardonically and nodded, "Thanks, I know."
"Have you been getting enough sleep?"
"Yes, and no … I mean, I have been getting sleep … it's just that there are these dreams that – that just seem to be plaguing me. It's making me tired."

"What are those dreams about?"

About us fucking into oblivion, the wolf said crudely.

"It's just … something I really need to get over," she said simply.
"Is it about the incident where you got bitten? Because I've got the same type of nightmares that are recurring, but mine are about the war."
"No, no … nothing like that, it's something else," Hermione smiled.

It was getting hot. Too hot. She was beginning to sweat again. She wiped the sweat off her forehead with one hand and the other free hand she used to push her hair back.

Too, too hot. Can't stand this.

She could feel her pheromones and it was going crazy. And Draco Malfoy isn't even affected one bit.

She stood up and began to walk to her small counter, "Would you like some tea?" she asked, fanning herself with one hand and the blowing air into her blouse.

She was getting dizzy, disorientated.

He was so close.

"No, thank you," he answered, "I came here to talk, actually."
"Oh? About what?" She wiped her forehead and neck again, casting a boiling spell on the kettle.

"About you," he said.
"Yes?"

She was about to move back to the armchair, because she was just so out of it … so so weak with desire. She wanted to collapse.

But something stopped her in her tracks. Draco Malfoy was standing right in front of her, effectively blocking her path.

"Why have you been avoiding me, Hermione?" He asked quietly, his voice merely above a whisper.
"I … I haven't -" she began pathetically.

"Don't lie to me, Hermione," he said, gripping the edge of the counter on either side of her, trapping her.

The wolf in her was thrilled.

"I … I …" She tried again, already feeling the inferno and the aching, but this time multiplied by maybe a billion at such proximity. She almost whimpered.
"Yes? You what?" he pressed on, face to close to hers that she felt like this was a dream again – and – and –

"What do you want from me, Draco?" she said, miserably.
"I want an explanation."

"To what?" She slowly raised her eyes to lock with Draco's.

Draco had that serious look on his face, much like that day when he apologized for being a git to her in school, and he blurted, "Why have we stopped speaking? Why don't you come and bug me anymore? You hardly answer my owls, I don't even catch sight of you anywhere, and don't think I've noticed that you run in the opposite direction every-fucking-time you see me."

Hermione looked dumbfounded for a second, as she tried to register that Draco had noticed all that.

"I want you to start talking now," he demanded, and damn if the wolf in Hermione didn't like it.

She took a great big breath and exhaled.

Well, now or never.

"It's my mating season, Draco," she said slowly. "I'm in heat."

Draco listened patiently.

"I have always, always been attracted to you and I was always able to ignore it but now that the wolf in me is in heat, I can't seem to get my mind off you. I dream of you, I think of you – fuck, even when I close my eyes, all I see is you. The wolf has chosen you as its mate and," she swallowed, "whenever you're around my pheromones go bloody fucking crazy, and it drives me crazy, and it gets me hot and bothered – it gets everybody else hot and bothered."

There was a pregnant silence, Draco still looking like he did a few seconds ago. No reaction whatsoever.

Then he frowned.

"But you are avoiding me," he insisted.

Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Merlin," she groaned, "Yes, yes, I was avoiding you, okay? Just … just give me like another two weeks until this goes away, okay?"

"But why would I do that?"
"Because I need to let this mating season pass and I bloody well need to get over this idiotic crush I seem to have on you. So if we're done here, I really, really need to get some sleep – not that it'll do me much good anyway."
"Because you'll dream of me?" he asked.

"Yes, I bloody well will dream of you. So please, please, let's stop humiliating me," she whined pathetically.

"You'll dream of me because you want me?"
"Draco, please, I really can't take anymore -"

"I want you, too."

Hermione froze.

She looked up at him to find that he still had that intense, penetrating look on his grey eyes. He didn't look amused, or cheeky …

Merlin, he was serious!

Unless … unless …

Hermione groaned.

"Oh, no," she groaned heartily, "Oh, fucking shit, wank, bugger it fucking all!"
"What?" Draco asked, confused.

"Can't you see? It's the fucking pull! Whenever I'm in heat I have this allure thing, just like a Veela – and whatever you're feeling towards me right now is just because of the fucking pull, oh God! Why, oh, why!"

"What?" Draco asked again, frowning harder.

"This!" she said, gestured between them both, "You said you want me."
"And I mean it," he said.
"No, you don't. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you can't even remember what you said or did when this is all over. Guaranteed."

She groaned and groaned and groaned – and she wanted to cry so badly.

"Don't tell me what I feel and what I don't, Granger," Draco's commanding tone appeared again, "I do want you, and it's not even about the fucking pull anymore because I've felt it way longer – I've worked with werewolves and Veelas in the past, Granger. I know what the pull feels like and I've taught myself how to resist it. Me wanting you has nothing to do with the pull."

"You don't know what you're saying, Draco," she said quietly. "The pull messes with people's minds … even you. So I can't really trust you and what you're saying right now."

Draco was quiet for a while.

"When does your mating season end?" he asked.
Hermione frowned, and calculated, "Less than two weeks, I suppose. Why?"
"Then if I tell you I want you after your season ends, would you believe me then?" he asked seriously.

"Wha -"
"Yes or no, Granger," he demanded.

"Probably, yes?"
Draco's hand came to stroke her right cheek softly as he stared at her, his eyes flickering between her eyes and lips, as if meaning to kiss her – and he leaned into her –

He was so close, so close so close to her lips that she could just move a fraction and they would be touching –

"Two weeks?" he whispered to her, lips so close to hers that they were practically kissing when he was speaking.

Hermione had no voice, so she nodded in the affirmative.

"Two weeks. And then I'm coming back for you," he said solemnly.

And then he pulled away, looking everywhere but her, as if gathering the will to just leave her and not do anything.

"I'll stay away from you until then," he muttered before taking long strides towards her door and disappearing completely.

Hermione stared straight at nothing before collapsing onto the floor, knees and legs failing.

Two weeks. And then I'm coming back for you.

The wolf trembled in anticipation.

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Draco was true to his word.

The day after the 'incident', as Hermione labelled it; she had not seen him anywhere at all. Not even during breakfast, lunch or dinner in the Great Hall.

The only time they met was during the monthly professors' meeting, and he had behaved civilly – not even pausing to talk about stupid things like they normally would.

He seemed unaffected and unfazed by everything though, his cool Malfoy mask in place. He left as soon as the meeting was over.

The more Hermione waited for her two weeks to be over, the more depressed she got.

What if it was just the effect of the pull? What if … what if he never came back? What if he didn't remember what he said to her during the 'incident'?

She was so depressed that the ceiling of the Great Hall started mimicking dark clouds and rain.

The wolf whimpered pathetically, its own ever-enthusiastic and ever-cheerful demeanour almost gone.

Just for a moment, she thought she saw a shock of white blond hair passing the entrance of the Great Hall. Her heart immediately leapt and settled down after a while.

Fuck, she was too far in love with Draco Malfoy to even try to get over him.

Maybe she should just quit. Quit and start writing Muggle books in Australia, or Iceland or anywhere far away from Draco Malfoy.

Yes, that would be the plan of action after her two weeks were over.

She sighed. Only a few more days left to endure the agonizingly erotic dreams and over-heating.

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Her mating season was over.

She felt it as soon as she woke up on a lovely Saturday, no erotic dreams (well, not highly erotic dreams anyway, it was already mild), and no aching or anything. She was free, for now.

An owl arrived and tapped at her window right before she jumped into the shower.

She opened the letter and her heart beat sped up.

Saturday drinks as usual?

DM

She bit her lip. What if she met him and he was back to the old Draco Malfoy? Or would he still remember what had happened during the 'incident'? What if he changed his mind?

So many what-if's were running through Hermione's mind, and for once, she decided to ignore all of her thoughts and nervously scribbled a 'yes', before sending the owl on its way.

She waited for Draco at The Three Broomsticks, as per usual. He had sent an owl earlier on saying that he'd be a bit late, but Hermione went there early as usual – sipping on a butterbeer and considering a Firewhiskey to help calm her nerves.

She kept glancing at her watch nervously, and watched the door avidly.

Every time it opened, her heart stopped and her stomach started doing cartwheels. Deciding to stop trying to give herself a heart attack, she flipped open The Daily Prophet and started to read.

She was so into her reading that she did not even notice a figure approach her.

"Hermione," it called, and she looked up.
"Draco," she smiled, heart leaping madly. She would die early, she knew it, at the rate her heart was going at the moment.

He slid into the seat opposite hers and Hermione watched him. He looked so perfect, so handsome.

"Orders?" Madam Rosmerta came to ask him.
"Butterbeer, please. The usual," he answered, never once lifting his gaze from Hermione.

"So," he said, as soon as Rosmerta left.

"So," Hermione echoed.
"Your mating season's over," he stated.
"Yes, it is," she grinned, "I'll take leave next time. It's hazardous to my health."
"I agree. We wouldn't want people stalking you around, would we?" he said good-naturedly.
"Yeah, that and the overheating and the difficulty sleeping," she joked.

And just like that, they fell into their old comfort – witty banter, arguing like an old married couple and private jokes.

This time, they stayed until the place was closing and until they were the only ones left.

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Hermione was nervous.

So nervous as soon as they got out of The Three Broomsticks that she walked on first without waiting for Draco.

And Draco was so, so quiet it unnerved her.

"How are your preparations for the students' final exams going?" she asked, not turning to look at him.

Suddenly, Hermione felt herself being tugged by her and she spun around.

Facing Draco Malfoy.
"Draco?" she squeaked.

He had that serious expression on his face again, and his eyes were penetrating hers, and he was walking towards her slowly. For every step that he took towards her, Hermione took one back, until her back was resting against a cold, brick wall.

Draco was crowding around her and she had no escape – not that she wanted to escape even if she could. He grabbed her face with both his hands and kissed her.

The kiss that met Hermione was completely, utterly breath-taking, knee-wobbling and mind-blowing. Draco kissed like he argued – forceful, passionate and thorough. He sucked, and licked, and nipped at her lips, his arms wrapping around Hermione to pull her closer.

Hermione kissed him back like she was a starved plant in the middle of a desert. She could not help but kiss him back – it was like her life depended on it. She needed him like she needed air. All those weeks, months of frustration, longing, aching, desiring, dreaming – finally, finally –

She was suddenly lifted up against the wall, her legs wrapped around Draco's waist, and then she felt his hands touch the bare skin of her waist – and it was fire.

Fire was an understatement – it was hot as hell. Conflagration. Furnace.

It was licking at every nerve ending and her mind was blank. She wanted this, she wanted him so bad.

It was only when she heard drunken laughter and a door slamming that she was snapped back into reality.

"Draco, … we need to umm, not here," she managed to say.

Draco nodded, feeling breathless himself. His hair was mussed, Hermione's fingers had messed it up earlier on.

"Draco, let's go home," she said again.

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Devouring was the correct word to describe what was going on right after Draco had Apparated them into his chambers.

They hadn't even bothered walking back. They simply couldn't wait.

They landed horizontally on top of Draco's bed, just before landing on it with a loud 'oomph' from the both of them.

Draco did not even wait a second before kissing her again, and proceeded to lick a fiery path down her neck. Hermione's head fell back to give him more access.

Draco chose that moment to thrust his hips forward and Hermione moaned, the delicious friction making her shiver. Hermione decided that Draco was most definitely excellent at multitasking because he managed to get her clothes off in record time, all the while rutting against her. She immediately moved to unfasten Draco's belt. She was having difficulty doing it as she couldn't focus properly, and Draco laughed at her effort.

Her face burned out of embarrassment and he kissed her in apology. She finally got the belt off and immediately opened the button and pulled the zipper down. Draco pulled Hermione's hips closer and hooked one arm under her leg and thrust forward, relishing in the moan that he heard from Hermione, watching as her face contorted in pure bliss.

Hermione was vaguely aware of her surroundings, everything was happening so fast and it was so very intense that she started to wonder if it was all real. What if it was a dream and she was going to wake up with that same ache, the same twinge that she had been experiencing for what felt like the longest time?

"I can hear you thinking, Hermione," Draco said amusedly.

Hermione sent him a smile at that, remembering one erotic dream where Draco had said the same thing.

"I'm going to take off my Masking Spell right now. And you can feel, and smell for yourself, okay?" he said.
"Okay," she nodded, and he muttered the counter-spell just before he bent his head to kiss her.

What she experienced right after that was sensory overload.

She could smell Draco so strongly – she could smell that same musky, mouth-watering, sexy, Draco smell that she got so addicted to and this time it was combined with a lot of things – lust, anticipation, longing, desire – it was like a mirror to her own feelings and she closed her eyes.

"I told you," came the deep tone of Draco's voice.

It sent vibrations all over her and that ache between her legs returned. As if reading her mind, Draco immediately sunk his fingers into her tight heat. He teased Hermione for long moments, until Hermione was sobbing with need, moaning wantonly and pushing back – begging for more, begging for him to stop and do it, she wasn't entirely sure what she was begging for anymore.

Draco's fingers withdrew agonizingly slow and positioned himself at her entrance, letting just the tip slide in. Hermione shut her eyes again and bit her lip.

"I love you, Hermione," she heard Draco say. And just when she opened her eyes, he slid into her with one drawn-out thrust. Hermione cried out and fisted the sheets, twisting and twisting as Draco eased into her.

Draco went still for a moment, waiting for Hermione to adjust and her fingers that were fisted in the sheets to relax. Hermione started pushing back and she heard Draco suck in a breath.

"Come on, Draco," she whispered, pushing him deeper with her heel.
He looked at her and asked with concern, "You alright?"
"Never better," she grinned.
"You're still able to talk. Guess I'll have to change that," and immediately after he finished that sentence, he pulled all the way out before thrusting in again. Hermione let out a low, long moan and shut her eyes tight.

"Fuck!" she shouted.

Draco's thrusts had her unable to remain silent, she let every groan, moan and shout go without restraint.

It was desperate, it was fantastic and so fucking incredible that Hermione almost cried. Draco was relentless – thrusting and teasing and touching simultaneously until Hermione couldn't take it anymore and let out a loud, passionate scream as she found her release, clenching uncontrollably around Draco and pushing him over the edge too.

He collapsed on top of her in a boneless heap, his sweat-slicked and warm body comforting Hermione. They panted and exchanged kisses, basking in the afterglow together, before their breathing returned to normal.

Draco moved, as if to leave, and Hermione tightened her grip on him. He grinned at her before flopping onto her side, grabbing her to rest on him.

"I love you too, Draco," Hermione mumbled.
Draco smiled at her before they fell into slumber together.

The End.

Wow. That was long. In fact it's the longest one-shot I had ever written. Hope you enjoyed it!

Reviews are love!