Hermione was getting to the point where she was considering herself a mamma wolf around the palace. But the more she walked around, and talked and chatted, and spent time with her favourite people, the more she felt as if she were developing mild schizophrenia. For while she laughed and joked and loved, especially with Harry, in the back of her mind she was snarling and growling, and wanting nothing more than to clamp her jaws around the throats of the bastards threatening them all and just rip them to bloody pieces.