Hermione turned on her side to stare at the sleeping werewolf. How many days had passed since she'd last done the same with another former lover of hers in London? She shook that thought out of her head. Augustus was a subject for the past, not the present. He'd made his feelings for her clear long ago. Returning her full attention back to Fenrir, she mused how fascinating it was that for a being that had caused so much death and destruction he seemed perfectly innocent and harmless in his sleep. He was the ultimate monster in the fears of all small children and their terrified parents. It was a reputation that was well-deserved and hard-earned. She should have been afraid of being alone with him, especially in his bed, but she was far from it. Experience taught her that he could be perfectly malleable under the right circumstances.