Hermione nodded, “Moody's going to tell anyone who asks that he learned about it while interrogating a snatcher.”
Minerva gave a sharp nod of acknowledgement and pressed her lips together, staring at Hermione for several seconds.
“You are a good girl; I hope that's never doubted by anyone. Are you — alright?”
“He hasn't done anything to me.” It was all the reassurance Hermione could give.
Something untwisted itself in Minerva's expression. She nodded sharply and then swept away to help take down the wards and shrink the furniture.
Hermione glanced at the time. It was a full moon that night and she needed fluxweed.
She stood up and walked out of the manse until she reached the edge of the anti-apparition barriers. Then she began the series of jumps back towards London.
She stopped in a large field she often started foraging at near the Forest of Dean. Holding her wand out, she cast a point me charm and followed it in search of the weedy plant.
The bright light of the moon cast the sea of grass in sharp shadows. The clustered trees nearby rose up like a black curtain against the bright night sky. As Hermione slid down a small slope, a gust of wind shifted across the field, rippling the grass so that it whispered softly. As the sliding, shifting sound faded, a low howl emerged from the trees downwind of Hermione.
She froze.
A werewolf.
There had never been werewolves in the area before. She had been so tired and distracted she hadn't even thought to take any precautions.
Then another howl emerged. Further away. To her right.
And another howl.
There was a pack of werewolves in the Forest of Dean.
She almost apparated away but paused, hesitating. She needed fluxweed. If she didn't get it that night, she wouldn't be able to get any until the next month. She had to make the potion. Severus would not offer advice or take the time to invent potions unless it were urgent.
She bolted down the hill in the direction the locator spell was indicating.
Another howl. Closer.
She whipped the silver knife from her pocket and began slicing sections of fluxweed as fast as she could without affecting the potency. There wasn't enough.
She recast the locator spell and ran in the direction her wand sent her. As she did so, she looked up to see the sharp elongated shadow of a werewolf sauntering down the slope towards her.
She skidded and nearly fell as she reached a spot with several fluxweed and cut them down in seconds.
The werewolf was less than twelve feet away and crouching into a lunge when she finally spun on her heel and apparated to the closest place she could think off.
Hermione reappeared on the steps of Malfoy's unplottable shack. Gasping for air, she dropped down onto the top step and sat panting as she tried to recover her breath.
She leaned against the door and closed her eyes as her heart continued pounding violently.
She was terribly out of shape. She couldn't believe how quickly she'd tired out from running. Her oesophagus burned, and there was a sharp, stabbing pain through her lungs every time she breathed in.
Aside from tromping through the countryside in search of potion ingredients, Hermione didn't engage in any physically strenuous activities. After she'd been pulled from fighting, she hadn't had time to drill or practice or even worry about her physical endurance.
Merlin, she was useless. If she ever found herself on a battlefield again, she'd probably be cut down in seconds.
Her breathing had evened, but she remained in place for another minute as she tried to will her heartbeat into slowing.
The door behind her abruptly wrenched open, and she toppled backwards into the shack.
Her head banged into the wood and stars flashed before her eyes as she discovered Malfoy staring down at her, enraged.
“The fuck, Granger, what are you doing?”
“Malfoy?” she said, staring up at him in confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” He snarled. “You activated the wards. I assumed you needed me for something.”
“Oh,” Hermione said, heat staining her cheeks. “I didn't realize the monitor ward extended beyond the room. I didn't mean to bother you.”
She rolled over and stood up.
Malfoy looked her up and down.
“What were you doing?”
“I needed fluxweed harvested under a full moon,” she said, finding that she was still panting slightly. “And there were werewolves. I couldn't wait until next month. So I had to run away and try gathering as I went. But I'm not very fit anymore. It winded me. This was the closest place to apparate to. So I was trying to get my breath back.”
“Where were you getting fluxweed?” His tone had an edge to it.
She gestured over here shoulder. “There's a field near here, in the Forest of Dean. It's one of the places I usually go to find potion ingredients.”
“Usually—”
There was a pause.
“You wander the countryside at night. Foraging?” His expression had become frozen.
“Yes.” Hermione nodded, eying him. “I mentioned this.”