Hermione had first seen her mate at a ball for the who's who or aristocrats. She’d looked so very bored, standing up straight, smiling at unattractive Alphas that were all bark and no bite, dancing without moving her hips in any way that could seem vulgar, eating dinner in the right order with just the right fork. Hermione felt she had to save her wild soul before it got snuffed out. She had tried it the old fashioned way, the polite way, she tried courting Bellatrix, with flowers and poetry, magic and manners but got nowhere.