Alpha of Alphas

The Cub

A soft breeze ruffled Hermione's hair while the warm sun shone down on her stretched out on the grass. A part of her knew she should be jumping up and freaking out, considering —well— everything.

But there was something inside her, like a reflection of herself with all pretense stripped away. The part of herself that doubted, the part of herself that worried over and over if she was making the right choices. This primal part was awake, and it spoke to her so clearly.

Safe.

Her eyes opened slowly, then flew open when she realized she wasn't alone lying in the grass. A large white wolf was lying beside her, and the amber eyes fixed inquisitively upon her. She tried to stand up and fell over, all her limbs feeling odd.

A whine emerged from her throat and she tried to stand again, tripping over her own legs–or paws—to be accurate. Her heart started fluttering in her chest as she realized she was a wolf.

She was a bloody wolf! That white wolf was not Harry. Hermione looked around and couldn't spot the black wolf she knew was hers.

You're overthinking it. A warm feminine voice drifted into Hermione's mind as she tried to stand and fell over again.

A half snarl emerged from her throat in response to the voice. Overthinking is what she specialized at.

You're just as testy as your mate.

Hermione's head cocked in the direction of the white wolf. My mate?

The master of death.

You're the one who bit him! Hermione remembered the scars covering Harry's body and anger rushed through her. She was on her feet her head lower to the ground her lips pulled back to reveal her fangs.

Calm down, you can't take me on—yet at least. Amusement flowed through the other wolf's voice, and she hadn't moved from where she lay stretched out in the grass.

Hermione moved a step forward, the primal entity inside her moving with her, both of them in complete agreement. Anyone who harmed Harry was not someone she was prepared to treat nicely.

The other wolf looked away from her, towards the eastern edge of the clearing, where a fiery sun still rising, casting deep shadows from the ginormous trees. Look, there she is.

Hermione didn't want to look away, but there was something in that voice that pulled at her, making her snout swing in the same direction as the wolf looked. There on the very edge of the meadow was a tiny little wolf, rolling around in flowers. Despite the distance, every detail of the little wolfcub was sharp, the little tufts of honey-brown fur that stuck up, the little burrs stuck on one side.

As if the little cub sensed the attention she looked over to them, her little ears flicking forward inquisitively.

She needs you, she needs you both.

Elara. Hermione thought.

Yes.

The little cub sneezed in the little patch of flowers, an adorable little noise reaching Hermione's ears that were cocked forward.

Hermione tried to walk forward, but it was like the world suddenly shook and she stumbled.

She doesn't have much time, she can't change back.

Hermione's head whipped back to the white wolf as the world shook again. What do you bloody mean she can't change back? She's a wolf baby?

Mik-