Sorry for the short chapter last time. Hopefully this one is a little longer.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Hermione said the first thing that came into her head. "Umm, I liked your poem." I can't believe I just said that.
"Hey, thanks," Ronald said. He still looked puzzled.
He's not a werewolf, she thought in dismay. How can I react this way when he isn't one of us? His smell of perspiration and soap was purely human. She didn't like that off-balanced feeling that he was giving her. "Your poem was facing a print of mine. I was glad it wasn't next to some trash."
The dark haired kid erupted with laughter.
"Shut up, Cedric," Ronald said, but he grinned.
"That was like some forest scene, wasn't it?" The kid with the sandy hair said. "Spooky man."
The blond girl put a hand on Ronald's arm. "Loony's waiting for us.
"Hold on Lav." Ronald gently disengaged his arm, and the girl frowned sulkily. "Cool picture. It's like you read my mind."
"That is what I though about your poem." Hermione answered. Her response to him was disturbing but she wanted to explore it. She took his hand and turned it up, then ran her nails down his fingers.
"What are you doing? Reading my fortune?" Ronald asked.
"Yes," she answered. She slid a pen from her bag. Then, while he watched mesmerized, she wrote her phone number in his palm. On a whim she outlined it with a five-pointed star.
"What's that?" Cedric asked. "You Jewish or something?"
"Nah," said Ronald softly. "That's a pentagram."
"So she is a witch," Lavender snapped.
No my dear. You don't watch enough late night movies. The person who sees a pentagram in his palm becomes a werewolf's victim.
"Are you a witch?" Ronald asked his eyes twinkling.
Her voice was husky. "Why don't you find out?" She folded his hand around the sign that made him hers. Her heart was thumping wildly due to her charade, but she refused to lose her nerve.
As she walked away, she heard Lavenders shrill voice rise, but she didn't bother listening. That girl got on her nerves. If she stayed around to long, there wouldn't be anything left of her.
***
As she reached home the front door opened. Harry, the inspiration for her mother's latest fight, was leaving. He filled the door frame, blocking her way. His shirt clung to his wide chest.
"Hi, Mione," he said. "Looking good." His voice was low and husky, a rumble in his throat. It made her dizzy.
The teasing in his green eyes made her squirm. She hated it, his eyes were mesmerizing. How could just looking at him affect her this way? She had to stay strong. She had to show him that she didn't care, no matter how much she did. "Save it for someone who cares," she said through clenched teeth.
Harry rubbed his chin and grinned. She noticed the puckered white scar tissue on the back of his right hand. The tip of another scar showed at this throat. And barely visible was the one hidden under his hair; it was a shape of a lightening bolt.
"I believe you do care. Don't hide it, I can see right through you," he said with an easy smile. "We don't see you at the Hog's Head"
She glared at him, "I'm too young to drink and so are you."
He looked her over taking his time. Before she could help it she tugged at the hemline of her shorts. Her shirt felt to tight. As much as she loved his eyes, she didn't like the way they were looking at her right now. "Who says that I drink? Maybe I just sit there waiting for you to come visit your mother." He finally said.
She stared him in the eye, challenging him; she was out of her depth, but defiant anyway, willing her lips not to tremble and her hands not to shake. There was silence for a moment and she couldn't read his strong, chiseled face. He reached for her. She stumbled back, tripping over a rug on the porch. He grabbed her around the waist to stop her from falling. Their bodies were touching, their faces inches apart. Hermione could feel his warm breath on her face. She pushed him away and straightened her clothes. Harry then laughed like a giant and moved aside. She slid past him into the house, angry that she let him see how he affected her. She slammed the door upon his arrogant face.
"Mum!" she yelled.
Diane poked her head out from the dining room
"How long has he been here?" Hermione demanded.
"Only for a few minutes," Diane answered. She looked disappointed. "He dropped by to invite both of us for dinner." Her mother stressed the both; clearly pointing out how she hoped Hermione wouldn't come.
"Damn it, Mum. He's twenty."
"So?"
"You're almost forty."
"Well, rub it in." But nothing was wiping the smile off her face.
"Don't you think it is a bit disgusting?"
Diane flung her hands in the air. "Well, for goodness sake, I'm not serious about him."
"Oh great. Now he's your boy toy."
Diane smirked. "He's not a boy." Horrified, Hermione ran up the stairs and slammed her door.
Dumbledore had gone to the Hog's Head, so there were just Hermione and Diane at the dinner table. Hermione was still brooding about Harry's visit. He acted like he wanted her. But then he thought that she wouldn't care that he fooled around with her mother? That disgusted her more than ever. How could her mother do that? Act like her father didn't even matter. Her father, the aching emptiness still gnawed at her. Her parents seemed so happy together. She'd thought he mother shared that ache, but now Diane was acting like stupid fourteen-year-old.
"Didn't you love Dad?" she finally asked.
Diane looked started at this question. "Yes, I loved him."
"Then why are you running around?"
"A year is a long time, Hermione. I'm tired of crying. I'm lonely. Sometimes I want a man in my bed. But with a daughter like you, the one I want won't pay attention to me."
Hermione gave her mother a questioning glance. "The only reason Harry comes here is to get information about you. He wont even look at me, let alone touch me."
Hermione grabbed her plate abruptly and headed for the kitchen. Couldn't her mother talk to her as if she was daughter? Like she really wanted to know that Harry hasn't touched her mother. Well, of course she wanted to know, but not like that. It relieved her that he wouldn't do such a thing but he was using her mother to get to her.
An hour later Hermione was on her bed doing halfhearted studying when the phone rang. She picked up the phone, expecting to hear one of the pack, but it was Ronald.
"There is a concert at the university this weekend," he said. "Sunday afternoon. You want to go?"
"Maybe, who's playing?"
He mentioned a band that she had never heard of before. His tone suggested that it was well known and one of his favorites. He was sharing a special treat with her. "I'll have to see if my family has anything planned. I'll let you know tomorrow."
Hermione hung up and stretched her arms to the ceiling. Should she go, or was having him rise to the bait good enough?
But a shadow slid across her face. If they went on a date he would want to kiss her. Would he be safe if he came close enough to fill her nostrils with his scent?
Diane walked out of her bedroom. She was wearing the tight black dress she used for waitressing. "Who was that?" she asked casually.
"A boy from school."
Diane paused, "Oh?"
"He asked me to a concert.
"One of them asked you out?" Her mother's expression combined repulsion and surprise. "I wont allow it."
Hermione bristled, "You can't tell me who to date."
Diane put her hands on her hips. "Don't date if you can't mate." Human and wolf kind were biologically incapable of breeding.
"I'm going to a concert, not having his baby," Hermione snapped. "And don't tell me wolf kind only start relationships when they want children. I know better."
"You've got a smart mouth, girl," Diane said as she walked off.
Now Hermione was sure she was going.
He had phoned, and she wasn't an outsider anymore - untouchable and strange, perhaps invisible. But why should she care so much? He was human after all: a meat boy, an incomplete creature who had only one form.
How sad she though, and suddenly she craved the change.
Like all her people, at the full moon she had to change whether she wanted to or not, the urge was too strong to refuse. Other times she could change at will either partway or fully. Right now the moon swelled like a seven-month belly, and she wanted to change because it was possible. She wanted to run for the joy of it.
She stalked through the backyard dusk, across the bat-grazed clearing in the narrow ribbon of woods out back, over the stream up the embankment, and down into the wide grassy valley that held the river.
Down by the river was giant tumble of rocks that screened the riverbank. Behind the rocks, amid the shoulder high weeds, she slowly slid off her clothes. Already her skin prickled with the sprouting pelt.
She moaned at the first ripple in her bones. She tensed her thighs and abdomen to will the change on, and clutched the night air like a lover as her fingers lengthened and her nails sprouted. Her blood churned with heat like desire. The night, the sweet night The exciting smells of rabbits, and damp earth drenched the air.
The flesh on her arms bubbled and her legs buckled to a new shape. She doubled over as the muscled of her abdomen went into a brief spasm, then grimaces as her teeth sharpened and her jaw extended. She felt the momentary pain of the spine's crunch and then the sweet release.
She was a creature much larger and stronger than any natural wolf. Her toes and legs were too long, her ears too big, and her eyes held fire. Wolf was only a convenient term they had adopted.
Hermione stretched and pawed at the ground, she sniffed the glorious air. She felt as if her tail could sweep the stars from the sky. She ran the length of the river to the edge of the city slums and back, under the hopeful early summer moon.
Ha! This chapter is like 400 word more than the last one! I'm sorry to say that this was not my writing. Except for the Harry parts, I wrote those. I hope they weren't too bad. This chapter and the next one are going to be from the book. Sorry, but I don't think you want me to replace them. You would get so confused and I don't want that.
As you can tell Harry is twenty and Hermione is seventeen. That is a three-year difference. It may seem like a lot, but compared to the book, not really. See Harry would originally be twenty-four and Hermione would be sixteen! I would love to have them the same age but the thing with Diane would be a little weird, even though it already is…
Hermione and Ron, :] I hope that this chapter helped a couple of you understand. Hermione was just going after him as a challenge because she wanted to know what he knows about her kind. Then when he asked her on the date, it was to get back at her mother. She wasn't really going to go with him until her mother made her mad!
I really hope you liked it and leave any comments in that little box below!