Sorry, it's a little late. I went to Fanfiction.net for the first time. I'm already hooked there. But don't worry, Portkey will always come first!
There was not a lot that I could fit into this chapter that actually made sense. So this is mostly what that book says. Sorry.
Disclaimer: None of this is mine.
"Surprise!" Ron said.
Hermione swallowed a growl. No shit.
"What are you doing here?" she managed to choke out as she sat back on her haunches. She trembled with the strain of holding back the change.
"I thought you would be happy to see me," Ron said.
"You startled me," she muttered.
He smiled at her. "I thought if you couldn't go to the party, then I would bring the party to you. He shrugged off his backpack. "I wasn't expecting you to be on the roof. I was going to knock on your window." He unbuckled the backpack and pulled out a bottle of wine.
After the wine came two glasses wrapped in a blanket, then a chunk of cheese. "Classy, huh?" Ron's eyes glittered with delight.
She licked her lips nervously. "Lovely. You brought dinner," she heard herself say. She wanted to bolt for the woods. You fool. You shouldn't have come.
She glanced at he moon. It was still behind the trees, its light hidden behind the foliage. Could he see any change in her? Ron was cutting slices of cheese, babbling away. He didn't seem to notice anything.
She experienced a dizzying surge of pain and pleasure. And her face twitched. Her hands flew to her ears and she felt them push past her fingers. She hastily pulled her hair around her face.
How do I make him go?
"Here you go." He held a slice of cheese to her mouth and it was all she could do not to take his fingers off. The cheese was clung to her tongue. She gulped it down with the glass of wine.
"Hey, silly, you're suppose to sip," he said. "I don't want you doing something you'll regret later." His eyes suggested otherwise.
Her lip raised in what she hoped was a smile; then she turned away swiftly with a grimace.
He moved closer to her and put an arm around her. "You picked a funny time to go shy on me."
Her shoulders shook with silent laughter at her stupidity. How could she think she could be best friends with a human? She detected an undeniable rippling up her spine, and a hardness came to her eyes and the corners of her mouth. She tested a new idea. So what if I hurt him?
"Hermione?" Ronald whispered.
It was a stupid thought. She doubled over in pain and moaned. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"What's wrong?" Ron asked, surprise and concern in his voice.
"I think I'm coming down with the flu," she said. What a brainstorm. "Maybe you should go. I don't want you to catch it."
"But someone should look after you."
"I would rather be alone," she insisted through clenched teeth.
Still he didn't move to go.
"What's wrong with you, boy?" she cried. "Do you like watching people throw up?"
His eyes widened.
She felt like a jerk. She changed her tone. "Please. I'll be embarrassed if you stay,"
"But-"
A spasm ripped through her and the bones in her knees crunched. "Go! Please go!" she yelled, and scrambled for the window like a drunk, her legs refusing to obey. "I'm going to be sick."
She dove onto her bed, rolled to the floor, and crawled to the bathroom at the end of the hall.
Outside the swollen moon leered at her over the tops of the trees.
She shuddered with pain, and tears outlined her face. She had never known a time when she hadn't wanted to change, hadn't enjoyed the change, but now she was nauseated from holding it back. He couldn't see her like this. She couldn't betray her people.
There was a gentle tapping on the bathroom door. "Are you alright?"
She tried to say yes but her jaw was wrong for speaking and the words came out a muffled growl. Why was he making this beautiful gift seem dirty?
"Well, if you are sure you'll be okay…"
"Hhhhmmmmm!" she moaned, hoping it sounded like an affirmative. Her arms lengthened, her muscles bulged, and she tore at her clothes as her pelt rippled over her flesh. She had never had to hide away before. What a crime to trap her beautiful body. It was his entire fault.
"Look, give me a call tomorrow and let me know how you are. Hope you feel better."
When she was sure that he was gone she reached for the doorknob, but pulled back.
What if I'm like Dean? What if I smell him as prey when I'm in fur?
She clenched her had, withdrew her shaking fist, and curled into a tight ball on the floor. I won't go out. I won't go out.
She shuddered into her final shape, raised her muzzle, and howled frustration at the porcelain tile. Her voice echoed about her like a curse.
***
Hermione blinked her eyes open in the early morning sun. The sound of a truck door slamming had awakened her. Diane and Dumbledore were back. She was drained and aching from clenching her body tight against its needs.
I'll have to tell him I can't talk to him anymore. I can't hide from him every full moon.
Hermione reached for her robe, and dragged a brush through her tangled hair. But they are so much fun to talk to. They don't know everything, which is perfect. No, I have to leave the poor boy alone. How long before the Five bothered him because of her? How long before the pack stepped in? They wouldn't be leaderless forever. Soon there would be someone to answer to. That last thought annoyed her. Maybe she didn't want to answer to someone.
"Perhaps Alice is right," Diane said as Hermione walked into the kitchen.
"What do you mean?" asked Dumbledore from the counter, where he was pouring coffee.
"Why aren't females allowed to compete in the Ordeal?" Diane said. She sat at the table. There was a leaf in her hair, and Hermione was jealous of their night out in the open.
"Give me a break!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "Isn't it obvious? It's purely physical. Females are in a different weight category. Their muscles don't develop to the same degree. Why risk injury or death with no chance to win?"
Hermione took the cup of coffee meant for her mother from Dumbledore's hands and leaned back against the counter to drink it.
"But some females are smarter than some males, craftier fighters," Diane argued, winking at Hermione.
Dumbledore set another cup of coffee in front of her and sat down. "It's only a way of matching fairly and protecting our own. You females get your chance. It's only the top female who mates with the victor. She has to be the strongest and the smartest to ensure our survival."
"Yeah, great, some chance. It is a male's world, isn't it? A female may be queen bitch but she doesn't get to choose her king."
"You loved John, didn't you? You didn't beat the crap out of every new girl who came along with a challenge just for the status."
Hermione watched her mother's face closely.
Diane glanced down, but not before Hermione saw her eyes soften. "Yeah," Diane said.
"And he loved you, too. You had his tail between your teeth. Who's to say the queen bitch isn't the real pack leader?"
Yes, Mum always got her way with Dad. But what if she had wanted the power and not him? She couldn't have done it.
"So you had options," Dumbledore continued. "You didn't have to fight for the leader. A female can choose any other mate as long as he will have her."
"That's a mockery," Hermione said, startling them. "The match still has to be pack approved, and she isn't even allowed to whelp without the permission of the leader. What kind of choice is that?"
"Well," Dumbledore said, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "I didn't know we had another rebel in the house."
Diane laughed. "She's a teenager, for Moon's sake. She is supposed to rebel."
Hermione bristled. How easily they dismissed her feelings as a stage she was going through. Her mouth closed to a thin line.
Diane grinned and winked at Hermione. "Never mind, babe. I'm sure we won't dare deny you when you make your choice. You would make our lives to miserable."
Yeah? I might surprise you. You want Harry to yourself? You might just have a little competition, Mother Dearest.
In her room, relaxed after a shower, Hermione stood in the breeze of her fan. There must be a way to cope with Ronald. There has to be.
But was Ron angry with her after last night? She had ruined his surprise. The boys she had known would have been pissed. What made him any different?
She walked down the hall to the phone.
Once again, sorry for any mistakes. Thanks for all that are reviewing, it means a lot.
Also I am sorry for the short chapter. Not my fault. Well, maybe it is. Sorry.
But I got to go; my brother is about to flip out…
Angel 737