A/N: Hello my darling readers. It has been too long since I was here with you and this very deep and anguished Sevione. There are little moments of humour at the beginning but I will add a warning in a moment. I wish to say thank you everyone for being patient in waiting for this… there are epic plots beginning here and I had to get them straight in my mind before I committed them to the fic. Thank you for hanging in there if you have come back and please leave a review if you are enjoying this story.

WARNING – This chapter has death, grieving and loss in it. If these things affect you on a personal level please only read up to the second grey line.

There were certain things Hermione had learned from being the best friend of a boy who had a madman trying to kill him and the most important of those things was to follow her instinct. If the air suddenly crackled with something foreboding and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled to attention, something unpleasant was about to happen. It was a sixth sense she had picked up over the years; a warning system that dark magic was approaching and as she heard the tell-tale pop of apparition but no materialisation outside the living room window where she had been staring for ten minutes trying to think of a plan, her skin puckered with goose flesh and her stomach tightened with the feeling of more impending doom – another sure sign that nothing good was about to happen.

It seemed time had ran out and she had to go with the only plan she had managed to formulate… getting her family out of the way and away from the magic. She could defend herself and maybe her parents; her shield charms had got impressively strong, even if she did say so herself. But her uncle, aunt and niece knew nothing of magic and the shock at seeing spells flying around, not to mention what the spells themselves could do, Hermione was sure would cost them their lives.

"Uncle Max…" she began, a little too cheerfully, "Do you fancy making a snacks run? I've ran out of Pringles and you know I can't play without my Sour Cream and Chive Pringles."

Max had a strange look on his face when he met her eyes – a cross between exasperation, which she expected but also fear – she dismissed it. He'd always been perceptive and a little empathic; perhaps he was picking up on her disguised but raging panic. She watched him shake himself out of whatever he had on his mind and address her as he usually did.

"H, you're not a kid anymore, why don't you take the car and pick up your Pringles; I'm getting too old to…"

"Pleeeease Uncle Max," She whined, playing her puppy eyes card and the fact she'd always been his favourite niece, "They always taste better when you get them."

It was manipulation 101 but Hermione refused to feel guilty; she was saving his life and that of his wife and…

"Aren't you taking Nyx and Elena?" She asked when he'd headed straight for the door and they hadn't moved.

"I'll be quicker on my own; then I can get back and trounce you at another game. I know it's five-nil to you but I will get you back."

"It's almost six though and it's getting dark; please don't go on your own." Worry had etched into her voice, both genuine and exaggerated for a stronger affect and the adults all shared a knowing look which irritated Hermione.

"I'll be fine H, I promise."

Just as she was considering just blowing her secret and explaining she had to get them out of the house to save their lives, her cousin piped up.

"Daddy, I'll come with you. I want to get the new Smash Hits magazine; I'm bored of Scrabble and my favourite singer is on the front cover this month."

Max shared another look with his wife. Hermione was starting to think there was something she didn't know. Always the know it all, she planned to question her family and find out what was going on when all of whatever was about to happen was over.

"Okay pumpkin, come on." Max said to his daughter before turning to his wife, "Love, you might as well come as well… I know you're already thinking up at list of things we need."

Nyx stood and kissed her husband's cheek. "You know me so well."

As soon as the family of three had departed; Uncle Max's Vauxhall Astra speeding toward Asda, Hermione turned to her parents…

"We're about to be attacked." She shrieked. "I can feel strong magic near my wards and it's getting closer."

Jonathan and Moira Granger looked out of the window but couldn't see anything at all. They looked at their daughter confused before her father spoke.

"Sweetheart, there's no one outside. Come on; let's make a cup of tea." He said, putting his arm around her as his wife slipped upstairs without a word.

"No dad. I can't explain how I know but I just do. I need to alert Se… erm… someone in the Order and then I can apparate us out of here. Give me 2 minutes."

Hermione slipped into the bathroom and pulled the journal from where she had it secured to her stomach with a sticking charm and wedged in the waistband of her jeans. Panic was rising more steadily now that at least half of her family was safe but there was still more to do.

She opened the journal to the next empty page and began to mentally inscribe the words she needed to say. In the down time she had had waiting for something to happen she had invented, practiced and perfected a wordless, wandless charm that would allow her to project her thoughts onto the parchment without writing them physically, very useful in a bind; like now.

Severus…

About to be attacked, I can feel it. Please come quick. I need you.

As she was about to sign her name, a terrible crashing noise came from beyond the door and she knew her wards and the front door had been broken down by force and any number of Death Eaters had just broken into her home. Knowing her mum was safe upstairs for at least a few minutes, she was just about to apparate out of the bathroom when her father's voice caused her to pause…

Fifteen minutes earlier… outside…

Fenrir Greyback had never been one for apparition; he preferred to transform, as he could do so at will, being an Alpha, and run to his destination, the wind in his fur and the feel of the earth underpaw. However, as he was with the impulsive and newly turned Antonin Dolohov, instant materialisation was more convenient.

With the slightest pop he could manage, he landed on the muggle street, disillusioned alongside his new beta companion. He sniffed the air, catching the most delicious scent on its particles that his heightened senses had ever experienced. Hermione Granger was, as far as anyone was concerned, a muggleborn and Greyback had smelled, bitten and killed muggle-borns before on the orders of Lord Voldemort but there was something very different about this one. She smelled of old magic, distant magic, unwavering waves of potential, there was a muskiness to her scent that was only ever present in women, a lightness which he attributed to whatever fragrance she wore – he couldn't discern such things – floral was about all he could narrow down.

His companion was also sniffing the air and from the feral look on his face, Dolohov had also picked up on the enticing aroma of their prey. Their plan was simple… kill her parents, infect her with lycanthropy and claim her together as a triad… thus breaking down the Golden Trio whom had thwarted their Dark Lord for too long. However, given the girl's 'mudblood' status, Voldemort and all of the other Death Eaters had veto'd the werewolves plans and so they had attacked. Lucius's life was hanging on by a thread, thanks to a deep bite to his carotid artery, Bellatrix had lost an eye to a stray claw slash and Rabastan was, well never going to get 'excited' again, thanks to another stray slash of claws.

Greyback and Dolohov had apparated out of the chaos and landed directly outside the home of their prey thanks to a wonderful little tip off coming from Mundungus Fletcher. He'd only asked from 10 galleons for the information…

"Eto byla spravedlivaya tsena." Dolohov stated to his Alpha with the feral gleam still in his eye. He had a habit of slipping back into his native tongue when he was either hungry or ready to rut.

"Speak English, pup." Greyback growled.

"The information… we got a fair price." The Russian reiterated in English.

"Bargain." He growled again, although more so in lust than in frustration this time. "Mmmmm, Can you smell her, pup?"

"Tak okherenno sladko," The Russian answers, practically salivating, sensing her heart rate increase.

"English… pup," Greyback snarls, slapping Dolohov across the back of his head.

Antonin scowls at his Alpha but is sufficiently chastised to translate.

"So fucking sweet… I want to taste her… take her…."

"Wait your turn pup. She's mine first. When I'm done with her, you can dip your wick."

Antonin just growled in response causing his alpha to chuckle sinisterly at the pup's impatience. The newly turned were always chomping at the bit. Curbing his appetite would take work.

"Patience, pup. You'll get your fun. Listen… can you here that? Girly knows we're here. Probably not who exactly but she knows someone is here for her. Listen to that heart rate, smell that…? Adrenaline. Fear. She's panicking, sweating. She'll taste all the sweeter for it… my friend."

"Can we go in now? She smells so fucking good I don't think I can wait longer."

"Let's g-… No! Wait. Look! Someone's leaving."

The two werewolves watched as a man, woman and young girl about nine years old stepped out of the large, detached, rurally set home. The man looked around cautiously as his wife and daughter got into the car; it seemed as if he looked right at them, a grimace on his face before slipping into the driver's seat, revving up the engine and pulling away.

"Was that…?" Greyback began, never having met the man but smelling a familiar scent.

"Žiga!" Antonin interrupted. "How the fuck does he know Potter's mudblood?"

"Let's go find out…" Fenrir growled, heading for the door.

Hermione could hear the thuds and banging of a fight; shouting and an ominous crack of something distinctly bone like hitting a wall from the other side of the bathroom door. There was the familiar sound of spells being cast from wands… two different languages and a terrifying growl; just as she headed for the door, she heard the bathroom door lock and her father's voice; she knew it was a father's voice but the words were beyond her comprehension. Something European maybe.

"Dragoste, suntem sub atac. Luminoasӑ are nevoie de puterile ei acum."

"What the fuck?" Hermione responded as she slid the latch from its holder locking the door and turned the handle. She pulled.

Nothing happened. The door remained in place.

She tugged harder as she heard another voice in the kitchen… Dolohov? She'd heard that voice in her nightmares since the night at the Department of Mysteries – nightmares that usually resulted in her dying. "Well, not today!" She announced to the door in all her glory, and began to concentrate her magic into a large, tight ball of energy… her plan being to blast her way out of the door.

She took aim; the door was only wood, it had no chance against an energy ball fuelled by fear and love and Gryffindor courage. As it was a second from release, a long slim light glowed to her right and she lost her concentration, the energy ball evaporating between her fingers.

"Who are you? What are you? Why are you here?" Hermione fired off angry questions, seething at how this being, whatever it was, was taking time away from her rescuing her parents.

The light faded and her mother stood before her.

"Sweetheart, there's no time to explain. The wolves can't get you. If they do, your war is lost. Your father will lay down his life for you, just as I will but first you must receive your inheritance…"

"Mum, what are you talking about? How did you get in here?"

"There's no time sweetheart. Max will explain everything. Take this…" Hermione's mum handed her a chain with a large amethyst pendant attached, "wear it and feel its power, my power. Let it in."

Hermione put the chain around her neck and as the large, cool slice of diamond shaped amethyst touched her skin, Moira Granger vanished from before her daughter's eyes in a brilliant white glowing light that swirled around the young witch coating her slim body in the same luminous glow before entering the purple stone with a flourish.

Hermione could feel her mother's spirit or soul or power against her collarbone. The warmth of her love and then there was more… her grandmother and great grandmothers, aunts and cousins and sisters, all females, centuries of her ancestors pooling their power and concentrating it in this one crystal, passing it on to the next generation; forwarding their magic through the crystal and into Hermione.

She dizzied and felt nauseous with the power of it; having to steady herself against the porcelain rim of the bathroom sink. As energy and magic swirled through her body, her mind and her soul, fusing and connecting to everything she had ever been, everything she ever could be, Hermione swayed and dropped to the floor, flat on her back. The last think she heard was the lock of the bathroom door, click.

Hermione wasn't sure how long she was unconscious but when she came around, before even opening her eyes, she felt herself pinned down by a lot of pressure on her wrists as they were placed behind her head and the unpleasant breath breathing down on her.

She could tell from the slighter frame pressed against her that it had to be Dolohov rather than Greyback. She remembered that Greyback was huge and feral; Dolohov in the old wanted posters was slick, greasy, wiry. It turned her stomach that he was so close but she knew she couldn't think about that if she was going to survive.

The swirling energy that swam through her had settled some but she could still feel it vibrating through her magic. 'Good', she thought, 'I'm going to need you.'

She could still hear a commotion coming from beyond the bathroom… her father? And… well if it was werewolves it had to be Greyback. She couldn't understand how her father was keeping the most notorious werewolf of all time in the wizarding world at bay but as a surge of power flooded her synapses and veins, she knew it was time to act. Her, apparently magical ancestors were urging her on to do something and suddenly the answer was upon her as a memory flashed in her mind of an old Tom and Jerry cartoon.

Tom had managed to procure magic to become rather bigger than Butch the Bulldog and thus able to overpower him. Hermione concentrated hard on her animagus form – she had turned into a lioness three times now under Minerva's tutelage and it was time to do so again – alone. But Hermione knew she wasn't really alone; she had her family, nestled right against her heart. She focused on being bigger and more powerful; she pictured giant claws and the sharpest razor-pointed teeth, humongous paws and ancient power; golden fur and thick haunches… and finally with a scream that turned into a deep resonant growl, startling her captor and throwing him back against his partner, Hermione's body erupted into its new form and stood before the two werewolf Death Eaters and her own father as a Sphinx.

Her eyes narrowed on Greyback as her large, right, golden furred paw came up, crossing her body, claws out to swipe Dolohov out of her way; the point of her 'index' claw connecting with his throat shamelessly. Dolohov grasped at proceeding wound, spluttering something that if translated would be akin to calling her a bitch.

"Ya ubezhden, ty idiot, dvornyaga. Ty suka. Greybak suka. Po krayney mere, u menya byla obshchaya lyubeznost', chtoby izbavit' vas ot vashikh stradaniy." She said coldly, a deep purr to her voice as she answered him in the conversational Russian she had learned over several summers and when she was done with her homework but needed a challenge. It was a hard language and she still wasn't completely fluent but it was enough to make her smirk at the look on his face.

He spluttered once more in shock at her knowledge of his mother tongue, twice, before the blood loss was too severe and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. His last thought that she would have made a most magnificent mate.

Hermione couldn't quite believe she'd just killed one of the most formidable and notorious Death Eaters in Voldemort's ranks. Not that he'd made it particularly difficult but without her family power she wasn't sure her regular lioness form would have been enough. However, her Sphinx form took up half the kitchen and she couldn't have been more grateful as her eyes returned to Greyback and her father.

In the moment Hermione's attention was taken up with Dolohov's final demise and her glee at finally getting her revenge for Department of Mysteries attack, both Jonathan Granger and Fenrir Greyback acted.

Greyback's fangs sunk into his opponent's neck, tearing at the muscle, tendon and sinew he found there just as his victim's hands wrapped around the werewolf's head and twisted as hard as his magic infused muscles would allow. The two fell against each other, before the shifting weight made both clatter to the floor with a resounding double thud.

"Nooooooooooooo!" Hermione wailed, as she shrunk back into human form and ran to her father's body, pulling him to her, sobbing as the whole world faded from her mind and she felt truly alone.

Severus Snape had spent most of the day in his office, doing what he did when he was nervous. Pacing. So many things could go wrong with his plan for Miss Granger and her family. Voldemort could double cross him, as he was double crossing back; the Order could get wind of the real plan; Hermione could tell her parents the truth. There were just so many possible problems, pitfall and possibilities that his brain ached and his shoulders tensed with the enormity of it all.

He had just poured himself a long glass of firewhiskey to steady his nerves; not that he would ever admit that's what it was for but the time was drawing close to when he would see her as himself, for the first time since all this journal malarkey had started. There had been banter and he was sure, flirting, from his ex-student and it was something he was not used to or comfortable with and so in spite of himself he had tried on three different sets of his signature black robes… various amounts and rows of buttons – a charcoal hue, rather than midnight and in the end, in an effort to perhaps slightly lift the darkness of his image to her, he had added an emerald green handkerchief in his top pocket.

At 6.05pm just as he was about to dress himself in the robes he had finally chosen, two things happened simultaneously… his arm burned with a call from the Dark Lord and his journal heated in the secret pocket of his black waistcoat. Knowing Hermione was probably just confirming he was still planning to arrive and knowing he could not ignore a summons from Voldemort, he apparated directly to Malfoy Manor and into a scene of utter devastation.

"Ah, Severussss. It seems we have traitorsssss in our midsssst. The wolf and his new pup Dolohov have taken a liking to Potter's mudblood and decided to make her their mate."

"My Lord?" Severus questioned, finding the idea quite unbelievable as he took in his surroundings. There was blood everywhere but they were alone.

"As you sssssee, there was quite the ssssskirmissssh. Lucccciusss may not survive; Rabasssstan may not want to and Belllllla is being nursed by the housssse elvessss having losssst an eye."

"And this was Greyback? And Dolohov?" Severus asked, for confirmation of who he was about to kill. The Dark Lord would obviously want the usurpers punished and probably killed but if they got near Hermione, Severus would kill them for his own reasons.

Voldemort nodded his head slightly, granting the confirmation and acting surprisingly calmly considering what had happened. Severus couldn't help but wonder why.

"Take care of thisssss, Sssseverussss. I do not want them interfering with my planssss for Potter."

"You wish for the plans to still go ahead tonight, my Lord?" Anything to head this ridiculous idea off before it could make the situation worse.

"You question me, Ssssseverus?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes flashing with anger.

"No my Lord. Just seeking confirmation."

Again Voldemort nodded.

"Go!"

Not needing to be told twice, Severus apparated directly into the private alley Hermione had told him was always free of people that sat between her house and that of the neighbour, twenty five minutes earlier than he was due to arrive. He noted there were no windows on either house that looked onto the alley and it was indeed an ideal apparition spot, densely surrounded by shrubbery and wall.

Something seemed off as he walked out of the alley and around the wall to take the path to Hermione's house – something about the atmosphere. He could hear soft sobs and a strange magic thickened and charged the air – like electricity that crackled along his senses and the core of his magic. It got stronger as he came closer to the house and when he saw the front door had been blasted from its hinges, he surged forward, running through the doorway and into a silent living room. Memories flashed through his mind of sixteen years ago and the devastation of another house; the crippling fear of another witch's death.

The sobs grew louder as he neared the slightly ajar kitchen door; it was definitely Hermione's anguish he could hear and relief flooded him. He couldn't see her, hidden as she was by the dividing wall but hearing her meant she was alive and that was enough to calm him.

At that very moment, obviously sensing her master, Snow ran forward from the kitchen, having arrived only moments before him to see Hermione lunging at her father's body; she hugged Severus's leg, weeping herself as she clung to him in devastation.

"There is nothings I coulds have done Master Snape, sir. Nothings at all. Bloods and cryings and bodies, sir. Snow must clean up for Missy Žiga, sir."

Snape frowned at the name used by his elf. Surely she'd got the name wrong. Max Žiga was a muggleborn but as far as he knew had never met or been connected to Hermione. The greasy spoon he runs was too close to Knockturn for Hermione's innocence.

"Žiga?" Snape questioned.

"Yes, Master Snape, sir. Missy Žiga has strong magics sir. Gyyyyypsy magic." The elf said in wonder. "She be inherited from her mother who was matriarch of Žiga gypsies until she married Strega warlock. Snow can senses the power sir and recognises the Strega magic too sir. Elveses is born from Strega magics, sir."

Severus's mind was reeling with the new information and he struggled to secure his occlumency shields and focus on what was important right now… getting to Hermione.

"Stay with me Snow and show me where Miss Granger… erm… Miss Žiga is." Snape commanded softly of his elf.

"Yes sir." Snow replied with equal gentleness and led her master through to the kitchen.

Hermione held her father's head in her lap and both the volume of her sobs and the intensity of the electrical magic were stronger now. His heart ached for her at the image she made. He didn't think she had even registered his presence, which was so unlike her that he knew how deep in despair she was.

He was wrong however. Hermione had sensed him as soon as he apparated. She had felt his magic when it drew closer and now he was in the same room, it gave her a comfort he didn't even know he was offering. She pulled at his magic slightly; not so much that he would know but just for that little bit of stability to get her to accept her father's death.

She took a deep shuddering breath and with a wail as high pitched and chilling as a banshee, Hermione released her anguish, squeezing her father's body in a last embrace. Her eyes opened, blurred with the tears of her loss and she felt her amethyst pendant warm; a subtle push from her mother. She wiped her father's hair from his face and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

"Goodbye." She whispered against his forehead as her last tears fell.

Severus knew it wasn't quite the moment to approach yet as he watched the tender moment pass. It took about thirty seconds after Hermione had kissed her father's forehead and stayed perfectly still and silent in the tableau of grief before it happened. The strange electrical energy – which Severus now believed to be Mr Granger's Strega magic, slowly drew itself toward the young witch on the floor and she absorbed it all like an energy vacuum before lifting her head to stare Severus directly in his moistened eyes.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

A/N: Okay, the first thing I need to share with you is the translations so here we go…

Jonathan to Moira:

"Dragoste, suntem sub atac. Luminoasӑ are nevoie de puterile ei acum."

Love, we're under attack. Bright one needs her powers, now.

Hermione to Dolohov:

"Ya ubezhden, ty idiot, dvornyaga. Ty suka. Greybak suka. Po krayney mere, u menya byla obshchaya lyubeznost', chtoby izbavit' vas ot vashikh stradaniy."

I'm of the feline persuasion, you idiot mongrel. You're the bitch. Greyback's bitch. At least I had the common courtesy to put you out of your misery.

I think those are the only two that needed translation. If there are others let me know but as Greyback couldn't speak Russian, I think I cleverly got Dolohov to repeat himself in English for everything else.

A very special thank you to Nyxxi of The Coven and the PhoenixDragon111 profile here on FF, for her amazing support of being my go-to bounce ideas off person for this chapter and my Russian expert. Dash is completely obsessed with this story so I decided to let her be the surprised one for this chapter, even if she will kill me for killing Dolohov.

Love and Blessings until next time

Moon Out. x