Wolfblood

CHAPTER TWELVE

Page count: 9

The next morning found Hermione waking and being surrounded by warmth but it was comforting with the slight draught in the room; the window had been cracked open at some point during the night, obviously Derek's doing.

Hermione lifted her head and looked around to see Crookshanks and Magic both curled up at the end of her bed, snuggled together and sleeping while the early morning sun shone through the curtains and bathed a patch of light on the floor.

She felt Derek shift behind her, his hold on her automatically tightening and pulling her back against him, his nose burying in her neck.

"Morning," she greeted, sighing softly when he nudged her hair aside and nuzzled at her skin.

"Hmm," he hummed in reply. "How'd you sleep?"

"Perfect."

"I suppose I did wear you out," he muttered and she lifted her hand to slap at the arm that was thrown over her waist.

"Shut it," she warned but there was no malice in her tone.

She tried to shuffle free from his hold but he held tighter. She huffed in annoyance and gripped onto his arm, lifting it from her waist, only for him to wrap it back around her.

"Bloody hell, Derek, will you let go? I'm not going anywhere, I just need to stretch," she rolled her eyes.

He muttered something that she wasn't able to hear or understand, but he did release her from his hold. She rolled onto her back and raised her arms above her head, stretching her body out, her back making a satisfying 'clicking' sound and she sighed, brushing her hair out of her face and then dropping her arms onto her stomach, staring up at the ceiling.

"Are you going to tell me how you got your scars?" He asked, propping himself up on his elbow and a hand slipping under the blanket to splay across her stomach.

She wondered if it was a wolf thing, him wanting to touch her stomach all the time because he did it at every opportunity that he was presented with, even more so over the last couple of days.

At his question, her entire body went rigid and he shifted his eyes to her face, frowning slightly.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he began, "But it might help me better understand what happened to you, and it might help you by sharing it with someone else, relieving the burden."

She stayed silent for a moment, weighing up her options.

Turning to look at him, she said, "I'll make you a deal. If I tell you and you show one single ounce of pity, not only will I hex you, but I'll make sure you're never able to have children."

He cocked an eyebrow, peering down at her. "Seems a bit drastic," he replied, looking more amused with her threat than frightened. "But I've already knocked you up and my wolf line has a successor, so if that's what you want, I'll agree to it."

"You want to know how I got my scars so badly that you'll willingly risk the chance of never being able to have another child."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"You know it's not a bluff? I really would do it."

"I know, especially with your hormones acting up, you're more likely to do it now than you were before."

Her eyes searched his expression before she turned her gaze towards the ceiling, her hands moving to rest against her stomach.

"The burn on my shoulder was caused by a rogue Incendio, a ball of fire, and it happened during the Final Battle. The scars on my hip, I received them during the time that my friends and I were fugitives. The last year of the war we were forced to flee due to Voldemort not only taking over Hogwarts and killing Dumbledore, but he took control of our government and we were the three most wanted fugitives in the world. We survived in the wild for the better part of a year while trying to finish the mission given to us to destroy Voldemort. My friend, Harry, he walked into a trap and to save us both, I pushed us out of a two-story window. The scars are from the window glass."