Once Bitten, Twice Shy
by Barton Fink

Rating: PG
Ship: Harry & Hermione
Canon: Books 1 - 7
Genre: Drama
Status: In progress
Length: 60,288 words in 13 chapters
Published: 3 Feb 2016
Last updated: 10 Oct 2016

Hermione has fought inequality her whole life but some prejudices run so deep that even defeating Voldemort is not
enough to overcome them. The final battle has left Harry and Hermione facing the greatest challenge of their lives, one
that tests love and friendships to the limit. Post Book Seven; ignores epilogue.

From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/9165/

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1. Aftermath

a/n Just to let you know that as this story begins immediately after the Final Battle, it will start with elements of
H/G and Hr/R. Of course, as it is Portkey this will not last forever, but I know that some people have zero tolerance of
any other ship apart from H/Hr, so consider this fair warning.

If you have any complaints about that take them to JKR - she's the one that dealt this hand.

********

Chapter 1 - Aftermath

Harry Potter brushed off yet another congratulatory pat on the back as he picked his way through the throng that teemed
throughout the great hall of Hogwarts. He was absolutely shattered and was in no mood to accept the congratulations of
the multitude of well-wishers who continued to approach him. Indeed, he wasn't in the mood for anything right now;
instead he just wanted to find his two friends and retreat to a quiet corner somewhere, out of the way from all of the
attention. He wasn't having much luck though.

He knew that he should be feeling elated; that having finally defeated his mortal enemy after years of struggle, he
should be revelling in the joy that the future now promised. But he could not bring himself to appreciate the moment;
for one thing, he was dog-tired. For another, he knew that too many good people had died to make the victory possible.
He smiled grimly to himself; perhaps it was his “saving people thing” but he found that he could not rejoice with the
others when he had not destroyed Voldemort soon enough to prevent so many premature deaths.

He was also still trying to come to terms with two facts. One was that he had died in the forest earlier - something
that he thought he would never get his head around, despite Dumbledore's explanations. The second issue he was facing
was the fact that he had just killed a man. That it was Voldemort who had died by his hand did not lessen the feeling of
horror he was experiencing at having taken a human life, regardless of how vile that life had been. It was only now that
he had allowed his mind to dwell on it that he finally realised the meaning of that cursed prophecy.

Either must die at the hand of the other.

While it had not been a killing curse he had cast, Voldemort was still dead by his hand. He knew that he should be
pleased; indeed, the evident joy of so many of those around him told him that no one would judge him for doing what he
had done.

But I will. I killed a man today.

His thoughts were interrupted by yet more congratulations and he found himself smiling mechanically at some familiar
faces but inwardly he was in turmoil. He was actually beginning to feel sick and was experiencing the horrible feeling
that the walls of castle surrounding him were somehow closing in on him - almost as if they were trying to crush him. He
took a few deep breaths, aware that he was struggling to maintain his composure and he cast his glance wildly around the
hall, seeking out the two people he knew he had to see right now.

He jumped suddenly as he felt another hand on his shoulder and turned sharply, a biting comment on the edge of his
tongue. But when he saw who it was that had approached him his expression softened and he actually managed a smile as he
looked upon a friend.

`Luna,' he said softly. `I'm so glad to see you made it. Are you OK?'

Luna Lovegood eyed him for longer than was strictly necessary in his opinion but he didn't mind. Luna was a friend and
could take liberties with him that he would not tolerate with others. She seemed to be checking him out - almost looking
into him as she cast her eyes over his entire form. Finally she nodded as if satisfied by something.

`Ron and Hermione are in the hospital wing,' she finally said. She noticed the sudden look of fear in his eyes. `They're
OK, Harry. Don't worry. Hermione just got a scratch, I think. I just reckoned that you would want to see them. I know I
would if I were you. This must be horrible for you.'

Harry stifled the sudden lurch he had felt on hearing about Ron and Hermione and regarded Luna fondly. Trust her to
realise that he would be having difficulty right now when everyone else assumed he would be revelling in the victory.
She really was a remarkable person.

`Thanks, Luna. I do want to see them. I'll just go right up.' He made to leave but turned back to his friend. `Just a
scratch, right?' he asked and the concern was evident in his voice.

Luna nodded. `Just a scratch. At least, that's what Ginny told me. I'm sure we would have heard if it was anything
worse.'

He nodded at the observation, knowing that she was right. If anything really bad had happened to Ron or Hermione he
would have known by now. He flashed Luna one last smile before turning and heading out of the hall and as far from the
attention he could get at the moment. Right now he needed to see his best friends and as he moved through the shattered
corridors of Hogwarts he found himself picking up the pace so that by the time he finally arrived at the hospital wing
he was actually running. He realised what he was doing and forced himself to stop, taking a few deep breaths before
gently swinging open the doors to the infirmary. When his eyes took in the scene, he found himself glad that he had not
sprinted into the room.

The ward was full of injured people and he noticed that every bed was full. He closed his eyes, knowing that the price
of victory was still to be fully paid. He saw both Molly and Ginny as they bustled between beds handing out potions and
carrying bandages and he felt a sudden rush of affection as his eyes fell on the youngest Weasley child. He knew they
had some unresolved issues between them but now was emphatically not the time to deal with it. He noticed too that Molly
and Ginny were not the only ones tending to the wounded; indeed, just about every able bodied teacher was doing likewise
and - of course - the indefatigable Poppy was orchestrating events. He cast his eyes over each bed in turn, recognising
each victim and feeling strangely guilty that he did not have the inclination to approach anyone. He was looking for two
particular people and he felt a panic rise in his throat as he frantically scanned the room. He couldn't see either Ron
or Hermione and he was just about to corner someone to ask when he heard the voice of Bill Weasley coming from behind
one of the drawn curtains. He carefully approached the source of the voice and was relieved that no one in the room had
noticed his presence. The last thing he wanted right now was more adulation - especially from these people; the real
heroes of the battle in his opinion.

As he neared the bed he heard voices he recognised and to his relief he realised that it was Ron and Hermione he could
hear and both sounded fine. He quietly drew back the curtain and slipped into the cubicle to stand next to his friends.
He smiled in greeting but soon had it wiped from his face as he realised that Hermione was crying as she lay on the bed
and Ron looked as if he was going to be sick as he stood next to her. Glancing at Bill, he noticed that he too had a
grim expression on his face.

`What's wrong?' he asked the concern evident in his voice.

Hermione and Ron shared a long look with one another. Neither replied.

`I said, what's wrong?' he repeated.

He realised that Hermione wouldn't meet his eye and that Ron looked as if he would rather be anywhere else right at this
moment. Finally, his red-haired friend managed a response.

`Hermione got bitten.'

It took a moment for this to register. `Bitten? Bitten by what?'

To Harry's growing irritation, Ron looked away. `Would someone mind telling me what is going on?' he added. There was
more than a hint of anger in his voice as he asked this.

Surprisingly it was Bill who answered.

`By Fenrir Greyback,' he said quietly.

It took a few seconds for the implications of this news to sink in. Once more he felt his surroundings enclose him,
almost suffocate him as he tried to deal with this dreadful news. Finally, he turned to Hermione who still would not
look him in the eye.

`Hermione?' he said softly. `Look at me, Hermione,' he added. He waited a few moments until finally she turned to face
him and his heart nearly broke in his chest when he saw the look of despair on her face. He noticed that she was
covering her right arm with her left, almost as if trying to protect him from this awful truth. He crouched down beside
the bed and looked her straight in the eye as he gently moved her arm so he could see the wound. When he glanced at the
afflicted arm he saw an angry red tear in her skin and he felt a surge of rage as he contemplated the pain of his
friend. He turned to face her.

`Are you sure it was Greyback?' he asked softly. He realised that she was still avoiding his gaze. He gently placed his
fingers under her chin and lifted her head so she could not avoid him.

`Are you sure it was Greyback?' he repeated. `When did he bite you?'

He saw the fear in her eyes before she replied. `I don't know, Harry. I never realised I had been bitten until after you
had defeated Voldemort. It was only when Ron spotted the blood on my arm that I realised something was wrong.' She
paused, gathering her thoughts. `I remember hitting him with a Blasting spell at one point but nothing else about him.
The fight was so intense; I had no idea what was going on most of the time. Ron and Neville brought him down in the
Great Hall...'

`But no one has found him yet' finished Ron in a small voice.

Harry considered her words. `So we don't now for sure that it was Greyback who bit you?' he asked. `It could have been
anything?' he continued, hope in his voice. Bill killed that hope dead.

`We know, Harry. There is no doubt that is a werewolf bite. And no doubt it was Greyback. I recognise the scent. I can
still smell him now. There is no doubt at all,' he concluded and Harry realised that Bill Weasley would know all about
this sort of thing. He made to reply but Bill evidently wasn't finished.

`As I was just explaining to Hermione, the real question at stake is whether or not Greyback was transformed when she
was bitten,' continued the elder Weasley sibling. `Unfortunately, she doesn't know. Greyback was seen in both forms
tonight and a lot depends on what form he was in when he bit her.' He looked at Harry expectantly after saying this.
Harry didn't disappoint.

`How could he have been seen in both forms? He's either in werewolf form or he's not?' The confusion in his voice was
evident. “Besides, it's not a full moon tonight, so how could he been fully transformed?'

`I don't know, Harry' replied Bill softly. `I do know that I saw him in human form and when I spoke to Remus earlier he
was adamant that he saw him transformed. That was before…' Bill tailed off, his eyes misty.

Harry closed his eyes knowing that Bill didn't need to finish the sentence. Before he was killed. And he realised that
Moony would have known Greyback in either form; there could be no doubt, however impossible it seemed. That led him to
another question and he found himself cursing his ignorance.

`What difference does his form make?' he asked. He heard Hermione sigh and when he turned to face her he saw her roll
her eyes in an all-too familiar way. Surprisingly, the gesture made him feel more at ease.

`Did you ever listen in class, Harry?' she asked. `If a human is bitten by a werewolf in human form, the victim will
only acquire some lupine tendencies. However, if the werewolf is transformed then the victim will be fully cursed.'

`And we don't know what form Greyback was in when he bit Hermione,' continued Ron.

Harry closed his eyes as he considered this new information. It occurred to him that how Greyback had managed to
transform was irrelevant right now. That was something they could and would explore later. There was one thing that
stood out; one obvious question that needed answered before anything else. `When's the next full moon?' he asked
quietly.

`The eleventh of May,' replied Bill without hesitation. Harry had known that Bill would have the dates of each full moon
engraved in his brain. He nodded.

`So we will have to wait nine days before we know the…extent of Hermione's injuries?' He saw that Hermione looked away
from him as he asked this and he felt an overwhelming sense of sympathy and love for her at that moment.

`Eight,' replied Bill. He noticed Harry's confused look and sighed. `A perfect full moon only occurs when the ecliptic
longitudes of the sun and the moon differ by 180 degrees, Harry. This only lasts for about a minute because the moon is
constantly moving in relation to the sun. But to the human eye, the moon looks full from roughly 95% illuminated -
Waxing Gibbous - to 95% the other side - Waning Gibbous. In eight days the moon will be past this point. That's when it
starts to affect those who are cursed. So we will know by the tenth.

Harry wished he had spent more time listening in Astronomy because he barely understood a word Bill had said. But one
thing stood out.

Eight days.

`Who else knows?' he finally asked.

`McGonagall and Pomfrey,' Ron replied quickly. `No one else.'

He nodded his understanding at the words and turned his attention back to his friend in the bed. He gently stroked her
hair as he decided what to say next.

`This doesn't change anything, you know,' he finally managed. `This doesn't make any difference to the way Ron and I
feel about you. Isn't that right, Ron?'

He glanced up and saw Ron shake himself out of a seeming trance before hastily replying.

`What? Yeah! Erm...doesn't change a thing,' he finally managed. Harry gave him a baleful look before turning back to
Hermione. Once again he tilted her head so she could not avoid his gaze.

`This changes nothing,' he repeated. `Whatever happens, I - that is we - want you to know that we are here for you and
that you will always be our friend. You are still you, Hermione. Nothing will ever change that - not even a bloody
werewolf bite. Don't ever think we would abandon you now. Not after everything you have done for us. We'll get through
this together, just like we have gotten through everything else together. Right?' He smiled softly suddenly. `Did you
really think we would think any less of you for this?'

Hermione didn't reply. Instead, the tears that she had been suppressing burst forth and she threw herself into his arms
and allowed herself to be comforted. He whispered soothing words into her ear as he held her and stroked her hair but he
also cast a warning glance in Ron's direction. His look said it all.

You should be doing this, you pillock! You kissed this girl a couple of hours ago!

He did not know how long he held her but eventually the curtain surrounding the bed was slid across and Minerva and
Poppy joined them around Hermione's bed, the latter carrying what looked like a bundle of clothes. Harry reluctantly let
go of his friend and felt the same reluctance as she released him too before leaning back in her bed. He noticed
McGonagall regard him with a beady look but he had seen the tenderness in her eyes before she had adopted a sterner
mien. She was fooling no one but he decided to play along.

`You three will have to leave for a few minutes,' said the Acting Head-Teacher of Hogwarts. `Hermione will be spending
the night in the hospital wing. She has some potions to take and she will have to get changed into more appropriate
attire,' she added meaningfully.

The three males surrounding the bed took the hint immediately.

`In that case, we had better give her some privacy,' said Bill. `Come on you two; time to go.'

Harry nodded his agreement and cast a glance at Hermione. He gave her as warm a smile as he could manage as he leaned
out and gently touched her arm. `Don't worry,' he began. `We'll get through this together.' He surprised them both by
leaning down and gently kissing the top of her head. He did not see the softening of the expressions on the faces of
Minerva and Poppy.

Hermione gave him a tremulous smile as he backed away from the bed and his heart broke as he saw what this was doing to
his dearest friend. Hermione was normally so strong; the one to keep her head in a crisis and yet he knew she was really
struggling to come to terms with what had happened. He gave her one last smile before slipping behind the curtain then
turned his attention to Ron and Bill. He was not smiling now.

`You two come with me. We need to talk,' he said curtly as he walked towards the exit. He did not look back to see if he
was being followed.

Ron and Bill shared a look before shrugging and turning to follow. It would not do to upset Harry when he was in this
mood. When he had spoken to them he had done so in a voice that brooked no argument.

Besides, thought Bill. How can someone refuse an order from the man who just destroyed Voldemort?

***********

Hermione Granger took the proffered goblet from Poppy Pomfrey and sat back in her bed as she allowed the Hogwarts nurse
to treat the bite mark on her arm. She was experiencing a sense of unreality as she considered everything that had
happened this fateful day - indeed; everything that had happened to her over the course of the past year. She was
vaguely aware that her system was in a state of shock but for once she could not summon the will to use her reason to
alleviate her distress. Quite simply; too much had happened.

She had barely begun to come to terms with the victory Harry had finally gained over Lord Voldemort when Ron had noticed
the deep gash on her arm. What she had assumed to be nothing more than a nasty cut took on more sinister connotations
when Poppy had originally inspected the wound. It was only when the nurse had summoned Bill Weasley to ask his opinion
that she had realised that something was seriously amiss. There could only be one reason for wanting to speak to Bill.

And Bill had confirmed her worst fears. It was a werewolf bite. She felt contaminated; tainted in some way and she was
trying to overcome a feeling of self-loathing that threatened to overwhelm her. She closed her eyes as the stark truth
of everything hit home. I'm a werewolf. Forever cursed. Forever damned.

Forever shunned.

The only hope she clung onto at the moment was the chance that she had not been bitten when Greyback was transformed.
She genuinely could not remember receiving the wound - indeed; she could not recall being within range of Greyback at
any point in the battle. Only when she had blasted him off poor Lavender and he certainly hadn't bitten her then. But
then, the struggle had been so intense that one was only aware of what was immediately threatening. Greyback must have
nicked her as she passed him but she could not work out when this might have occurred. But this was a futile exercise
anyway. Greyback had bitten her; all she could do now was wait and see.

She allowed her thoughts to consider Harry's reaction and despite her predicament a small smile formed on her face.
She'd been genuinely worried. She'd felt so ashamed at the prospect of being cursed that she hadn't wanted anyone to
know. Indeed; had Ron not been in attendance when Bill had confirmed Poppy's suspicions she doubted that she would have
told even him. She certainly had not intended telling Harry - not after everything else he had been though. He had
enough to deal with.

She closed her eyes as she remembered the horrible moment when Hagrid had appeared in front of the school with Harry's
dead body in his arms. Her heart had stopped at that moment - a part of her had actually flown from her as she looked on
the still form of her dearest friend. His sudden resurrection; his unlikely triumph over Voldemort was still astonishing
to her and she knew he would be struggling to deal with the fact that he had just killed someone. He had enough on his
plate without worrying about her and she still wanted to speak to him to find out exactly what had happened earlier.
There were more than a few issues she had to take him to task about.

But his reaction had been exactly what she had needed. She knew Ron was dealing with his own issues; that he and Bill
were mourning the loss of Fred and that her own needs were second to their grief. But Harry had held her so tenderly and
told her exactly what she needed to hear.

This doesn't change anything, you know… We'll get through this together.

A simple declaration and yet one that made all the difference.

Whatever happens, I'm not alone.

She had Ron and she had Harry and so long as that remained true she knew she could deal with whatever was to come.

***********

Ron Weasley quietly closed the door of the Transfiguration classroom behind him and turned to Harry, a questioning look
on his face. He saw too that Bill had a similar expression of curiosity. Harry must have noticed their bemusement for
his stern look suddenly vanished and he smiled ruefully at them both.

`I'm sorry, lads. I know you have enough to be dealing with just now.'

Ron noticed his expression soften as he said this and he knew Harry was thinking about Fred - something he still had to
deal with himself, he knew. `So what is it then? Why do you want to speak to us?' he asked, still curious about Harry's
motives for bringing them here.

Harry took a deep breath, almost as if he was trying to answer that question himself. `I guess I just wanted more
information. I'm not really sure what all of this means.'

`We won't know exactly what we face until the full moon, Harry,' said Bill. `It really all depends on whether or not
Greyback was transformed. He was in human form when he attacked me and - apart from the scars - you wouldn't think
anything was wrong with me.'

`There is nothing wrong with you!' exclaimed Harry. `There's nothing wrong with Hermione either!'

Bill looked on him sadly. `Harry? These sentiments do you credit; they really do. But there is something wrong with me -
and Hermione. We have been bitten by a werewolf! This isn't a minor affliction; it is a big deal and unless you can
accept that you will never be able to appreciate what she is going to be facing. You have to understand this; not
everyone is as enlightened as you when it comes to werewolves. You saw the sort of life Remus was forced to live. It's
not so bad for me but if Hermione is fully cursed, she will have to deal with all sorts of prejudice and discrimination.
The fact that she is a Muggle-born won't help either. She's doubly damned to some people.'

`She's not damned!'

`I never said she was Harry. I said that is how some people will look on her.' Bill paused and waited for these words to
sink in. `I'm not the enemy here, Harry,' he added quietly.

Harry looked at his feet. `I know, Bill. I'm sorry. It's just…so much to deal with. It's just not fair!' He looked back
up at them, his hands balled into fists by his side. `She has been through so much; done so much for me and Ron and now
this?' He turned away and Ron knew that it was so no one would see him fighting the tears.

A long silence followed this outburst and Ron shared a look with his brother. It was some time before anyone spoke.

`So it's just us three, McGonagall and Pomfrey who know?' asked Harry as he turned to face them again.

Ron nodded.

`Good. We need to make sure it stays that way,' Harry continued. He saw the looks of protest forming on the faces of the
two men in front of him. `Look; I know people will have to be informed sooner or later, but I think that is for Hermione
to decide. She calls the shots on this; right?'

`Right,' replied Bill. Ron became aware that Harry was expecting an answer from him too. `Yeah; right,' he finally
managed.

Harry gave him a long look. `Bill? Do you think you could give us a few moments alone?' he asked quietly.

Bill looked surprised by the question. `S…s…sure,' he replied, casting a glance from one to the other. `I'll pop back up
to see Hermione. She might have some more questions for me.'

Harry smiled, despite the seriousness of the situation. `She will; no doubt about that. She's always got questions.'

Bill acknowledged this observation with a smile of his own before turning and slipping out of the room. Ron watched him
go before turning to his friend. It was only then that he noticed the fierce look in Harry's eyes.

`What is the matter with you?' Harry snapped.

`What are you talking about?' asked Ron, genuinely perplexed.

`I'm talking about the fact that your girlfriend needs you right now and as far as I can see you haven't even offered
her a hug. She is your girlfriend; right? That kiss did mean something?' Harry's tone was scathing; his words lashing
Ron like a whip.

`Of course it meant something!' exclaimed Ron, anger in his voice. `I'm just struggling to deal with it all, OK? Yes I
want her to be my girlfriend! What does that have to do with anything?'

`It has everything to do with it,' replied Harry, his voice softer now that he had seen Ron's indignation; his obvious
distress and anger. He took a breath before continuing. `She needs you, Ron. Right now she needs you more than anyone.
You have to put your own feelings aside - even your feelings for Fred. Do you understand that? You will have time to
grieve later - she doesn't have that luxury. She has no one else. Her parents are in Australia and we are all she has
got. You are her boyfriend. Go to her. Go right now and just be there for her. Please?'

Ron noticed that his voice had cracked as he made the appeal and he felt suddenly ashamed of himself for putting his own
feelings before Hermione's. This must be hell on earth for her he realised. He hardened his expression and gave Harry a
firm nod.

`You're right. I'm sorry. I'll go to her now. Are you coming?'

Harry shook his head. `She knows I'm here when she needs me. Right now she needs you; I'll just get in the way. Go on;
go to her. I'll see you later.'

Ron nodded his agreement and headed for the door. He opened it and slipped through but before he closed it behind him he
took one last glance into the classroom. Harry had slumped on to a desk, his head in his hands and Ron could hear him
sobbing quietly.

He closed the door quickly and headed for the hospital wing. He felt uncomfortable, almost as if he had just intruded on
some private grief. He shook his head and willed himself to be strong. He knew he had not always been a reliable friend
in the past - indeed; his actions in the tent during the past winter were evidence of that.

But not this time. Harry's right; she needs me right now and I'm going to be there for her.

***********

Hermione glanced up as the curtain surrounding her bed slid open and Ron strode in before pulling it behind him and
sitting in the seat next to her. She had been talking to Bill and was more grateful than she could convey that he was
taking the time to explain to her everything that he thought she needed to know about dealing with a werewolf bite. She
diverted her gaze from Ron back to Bill as he stood to leave.

`I'll leave you to it. I really need to see my wife,' he said with a soft smile.

Hermione smiled her gratitude. She knew that the Weasleys had their own personal tragedy to deal with and yet here was
Bill trying to comfort her. Fleur was an extremely lucky woman to have such a man.

But I have my own Weasley, she thought to herself as she turned to Ron. She smiled at him but found herself having to
force it as she suddenly realised that Ron was alone.

`Where's Harry?' she asked.

Ron looked a little put out at the question but recovered. `He thought…er, that is…he reckoned that we might want some
time alone. You know…because…because…'

`Because we kissed?' she finished for him.

Ron reddened. `Yeah. That.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. Trust Harry. Even now; even after everything he has done he is still thinking about others. It
must be his saving people thing.

`Who's with him?' she finally asked.

`Er…no one,' replied Ron.

She sat up straighter in her bed at this revelation. `No one?' she blurted, the incredulity evident in her voice. `You
can't leave him on his own! Not after everything he's been through.'

Surprisingly, Ron smiled. `I guess that is exactly what he thinks about you right now. He said to say that he's there if
you need him but he reckoned…well; he reckoned we might want to be alone for now.'

She shook her head in disbelief. `He's been through too much today - he needs someone to keep an eye on him. Go to him,
Ron; I'll be fine.'

Ron shook his head. `Not a chance, Hermione. Harry will be fine. In fact; I reckon he wants to be alone right now,' he
added as he remembered the figure of despair that Harry had cut as he had left the classroom. No; Harry won't want to
see anyone until he's ready.

Hermione accepted this remark at face value, knowing that Ron knew more than he was letting on. She regarded him fondly,
knowing how difficult this was for him too. `How are you?' she asked tentatively. `I mean; after…Fred and everything…”

Ron looked at her sadly for a long moment. `I'll be OK. I'll deal with Fred later; right now I'm more concerned about
you. Look after the living, right? The dead can look after themselves.'

She noticed how his voice cracked as he said this and despite her own feelings of despair she leaned forward and gave
him a hug. To her surprise, he didn't hesitate in reciprocating the gesture and they remained tight in each others arms
for a long time. Finally, they broke apart and Ron gazed at her intensely, his eyes moist.

`Harry's right,' he said after a pause. `We are here for you; I'm here for you. You won't have to face this alone,' he
added, his voice thick with emotion.

She nodded her gratitude at his words. Nodded her gratitude and embraced him again in order to hide the sudden
realisation that had struck her.

Somehow, when Ron said those words of comfort, they did not carry the same weight and sincerity as when Harry had said
them. She didn't know what that meant and realised that she was probably reading too much into things. She felt Ron hold
her again and decided just to be grateful for the comfort he was offering her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

2. Filling in the Blanks

The next morning, Harry gingerly made his way back to the hospital wing. He had barely slept a wink; instead he had sat
awake for most of the night and had tried his best to come to terms with everything that had occurred the pervious day.
Obviously, the catastrophic news about Hermione had dominated his thoughts but he had been plagued too with visions of
Fred, Remus and Tonks and all the others who had made the ultimate sacrifice in order to defeat Voldemort. He had
struggled too with his own “death” and was well aware that he would still have to face questions from his two closest
friends on the matter. So far, he had not told anyone what had occurred in the forest and he had a niggling suspicion
that there was a reckoning to face at some point in the not too distant future.

There was also the fact that he had killed a man. Even though it was Voldemort, he still felt uneasy at the thought of
taking a life.

He had decided to remain in the classroom and had lain on the floor and attempted to go to sleep. He'd not felt able to
face any more congratulations or interrogations and so had resolved to stay away from the Gryffindor common room - at
least for the moment. It had not occurred to him that his absence would be noted and it was not long before his solitude
was interrupted by the opening of the classroom door.

It had been Professor McGonagall and she hadn't looked too pleased.

`What are you doing, Harry? What are you doing in here? The whole school is looking for you!'

He'd taken a long moment to reply. `I'm sorry, professor. I just can't face all the attention at the minute. I just
wanted to be alone for a while. Can you understand that?'

Surprisingly, her expression had softened. `Yes, Harry. I can understand that. But you can't stay here.'

He'd raised an eyebrow. `Why not? This is as good as anywhere else. You know I am OK; you could pass the word.'

She'd regarded him severely but had finally given a soft smile. `Very well, Harry. I shall inform the others that you
are quite well and have made your own arrangements. But I want you to know that my door is open if you want someone to
talk to.'

He'd smiled his appreciation and watched as she turned and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

That had been over eight hours ago and now as he gently opened the door to the hospital wing he realised that he'd not
had a proper sleep in some days. I need to do something about that.

The scene that greeted him on entering the infirmary was in stark contrast to the activity of the previous night. No one
stirred and it was apparent that all of the injured had been treated by Poppy and that she had dished out more than a
few sleeping draughts. Every bed contained the slumbering form of someone injured in the battle and it was with extreme
care that he silently tip-toed his way towards Hermione's bed. Slowly, he drew the curtains and was surprised to see
that both Ron and Hermione were awake. They were sitting in companionable silence, their fingers intertwined and Harry
felt a sudden rush of affection for them both as he realised that they had resolved some of the issues from the previous
day.

`Morning,' he whispered to them and smiled broadly as they both sprang in to life and released their hold on one another
as if being caught doing something illegal. He glanced at Hermione and saw a look of amusement on her face too as she
realised the absurdity of the situation and his feeling of affection grew.

`Good morning, Harry,' she replied softly. Her eyes took him in and she could see that he had not slept properly. He
looked terrible; his eyes had black lines under them; his face was drawn and he looked chalk white. Even his hair was
more unruly than usual and she had to fight a sudden urge to smooth it with her hand. `How are you feeling?' she finally
asked.

Harry grimaced and shrugged as if his well being was of no consequence and Hermione felt a sudden surge of irritation at
his attitude. `I was hoping you would drop by,' she continued. `I was hoping the three of us would get a chance to
discuss what happened yesterday.' She had tried to keep her tone light and airy but all three were aware of a sudden
tension between them. Harry sighed and pulled up a chair before sitting down. He pulled out his wand and quickly cast a
silencing charm around them.

`What did you want to discuss?' he asked, almost as if he hoped it was the weather Hermione wanted to talk about.

Hermione took her time before answering. `What happened yesterday, Harry? I thought you were dead.' She shuddered for a
moment before ploughing on. `Why did you go to the forest?' There was more than a hint of accusation in her voice.

`I had to go.' He looked at both Ron and Hermione as he answered and he felt their scrutiny. He squared his jaw before
continuing. `You remember I went to use Dumbledore's penseive to see the memory Snape gave me?' Both Hermione and Ron
nodded at the question but did not reply.

`Well,' continued Harry, `I discovered from Snape's memory that I was a Horcrux.'

`WHAT?' cried Ron and Hermione together. If it were not for the seriousness of the situation, Harry would have burst out
laughing. He could not remember a time when his two friends were of one mind.

`You were a Horcrux?' asked Hermione, the incredulity evident in her voice.

`I sure was. Voldemort didn't mean for it to happen but when he tried to kill me when I was a baby and the spell
backfired, his soul splintered and a fragment ended up inside me. That's why my scar used to hurt; that's why we had the
mental link between us.' He looked grim. `That's why I can speak Parseltongue. He had just murdered my parents so the
criteria for making a Horcrux had been met. Anyway; he couldn't be killed unless the soul fragment inside of me was
destroyed.'

`How was it destroyed?' asked Ron and Harry noticed that Hermione did not look too pleased that he had beaten her to the
punch with the question.

`I had to let him kill me.' He noticed both sets of eyes widen at this remark so ploughed on before either of his
friends interrupted. `You see; we were linked by more than the Horcrux. You remember that Voldemort used my blood to
regain his body the night Cedric died?'

Both Ron and Hermione nodded.

`Well,' continued Harry, `by using my blood, Voldemort also had my mum's protection in his blood. So there was a double
link. He was tethered to Earth by the Horcrux in me and I was tethered by my mother's blood in him. The only way to
break the connection was to let him hit me with the killing curse. That way the link would be broken and Voldemort would
be mortal again. It worked too.'

He noticed with surprise that Hermione looked relieved at the explanation. He raised an eyebrow enquiringly at her and
she seemed to read the question in his mind.

`I was ready to have a go at you, Harry. I'm glad I don't need to now.'

`Have a go at me? Why?'

`Because I thought you had knowingly walked to your death without talking to me first. I didn't think for a second that
you would answer Voldemort's demand to enter the forest and I was ready to curse you for being so bloody stupid. But you
knew all along about the connection so I suppose that gets you off the hook,' she added with a smile.

Harry's world hung on a precipice for a few moments before he knew that he had to take the right - rather than the easy
- path.

`I didn't know about the connection until after,' he said quietly.

`After what?' asked Hermione.

`After I died.'

Hermione sat up in her bed, an expression of alarm on her face. `What do you mean; “after I died?”'

Harry closed his eyes, wondering how best to explain this. `When I walked to the forest I didn't know about the
connection. All I knew was that I had to destroy the Horcrux in me and the only way to do that was to die. So I went to
Voldemort so he wouldn't attack the school again - my life was already forfeit so I reckoned some good should come out
of it.' He raised his hand to forestall an interruption from Hermione. `Let me finish; please?' He watched as she sat
back with her arms folded and he saw that she had a look on her face that did not bode well for his prospects in the
next few minutes.

`I went into the forest and I confronted Voldemort. I didn't lift my wand; I just let him curse me. He hit me with Avada
Kedavra. Again.'

`So what happened?' asked Ron. `If he…how did…why aren't you dead then?'

`I'm not dead because of the connection. I think I did actually die but I was able to return. After I was hit by the
curse I found myself in…well; it's hard to explain. It looked like King's Cross but it wasn't. It was sort of between
life and death, if you know what I mean?' He could tell from their expressions that they didn't so he continued.
`Dumbledore was there.'

`Dumbledore?' chorused his friends in unison.

`Yeah; Dumbledore. He explained everything to me. Told me where I was and why I wasn't totally dead. He told me that the
Horcrux in me had been destroyed and that because of my mother's blood in Voldemort's veins, I had a choice.'

`What choice?' asked Hermione, the severity evident in her voice.

`To return to Earth or to go “on,”' Harry replied. `I came back here,' he added unnecessarily. `Voldemort thought I was
dead so I played along until I had the chance to strike. The rest you know.'

A stunned silence greeted the end of the tale and Harry looked at his two friends almost with a feeling of defiance. He
knew what was coming next and wasn't disappointed when Hermione finally let rip.

`How could you?' exclaimed Hermione. `How dare you! You went to face him expecting to die? You never even came to say
goodbye to me! To us!'

`I never had the time. Besides; you would have tried to talk me out of it.'

`OF COURSE I WOULD HAVE TALKED YOU OUT OF IT! For God's sake, Harry! How could you do this to me?' Tears were flowing
down Hermione's cheeks as she asked this but she ignored them.

`Do what?' replied Harry, his own anger rising.

`Walk off to die without even talking to me, that's what! We could have tried something else; we could have tried to
extract it ourselves.'

`We never had the time, Hermione! You know this; I had no choice here. None at all! Voldemort would have attacked the
castle again. I knew that the only way to destroy the Horcrux in me was to die! So I decided to kill two birds with one
stone - destroy the Horcrux and stop Voldemort from attacking the school. I didn't have a choice.'

`There's always a choice! Do you have any idea how I felt when I thought you were dead?'

`Probably about the same as I did when I heard you had been bitten by Greyback! Don't you dare try to hold me
responsible for this! I had no choice. I had to destroy the Horcrux and I had to do it quick. This was the only way.
Besides; it worked, didn't it?'

`That's not the point.'

`It's entirely the point! If I had known you were going to act like this then I would have told Dumbledore I wanted to
go on! At least if I had stayed dead I wouldn't be facing a bloody inquisition!”

Hermione turned white at this remark and her eyes widened in shock. Ron stood mute, bewildered by the turn of events had
set his two best friends at loggerheads. Finally Hermione found her voice.

`How dare you, Harry Potter. After everything we have been through together. We have fought with you and for you. We
have stood by you throughout everything. And you walk off to die without even telling us? We were supposed to be a team,
Harry. I thought we would make such decisions together.'

`Are you saying you would have supported my decision? That you would have let me go to face him?'

`I would have jinxed you on the spot and tied you up to stop you from leaving, but that isn't the point,' replied
Hermione. `You didn't even ask! Do you have any idea how much that hurts?'

`Do you have any idea how much it hurt to have to make that walk?' asked Harry scathingly. `Do you think I wanted to do
it? Do you think I wanted to leave you and Ron. I had no choice, Hermione; can't you understand that?'

`No; I can't. Is this your “saving people” thing again, Harry? Do you have a need to do everything on your own?' Her
voice was rising as she spoke, her anger fuelled by her fear and her memory of how she felt when she thought him dead.
`After everything we have been through together, you abandoned us and went to face him on your own. Did we mean so
little that you were willing to die without even saying goodbye? We have bled for you, Harry; does that mean nothing to
you? Do we mean nothing to you?'

She knew as soon as the words had left her mouth that it was the wrong thing to say. She hadn't meant for it to come out
as it had - it had been a combination of her anger and her concern for Harry that had allowed her to blurt out such a
remark. She put her left hand to her mouth and reached for him with her right but she knew the damage had been done.
Harry looked chalk white; his eyes like saucers as he reeled from her words as if physically struck. He was staring in
horror at the bandage on her outstretched arm and she cursed herself as she realised that he would now be blaming
himself for her injury. She reached for him again as he finally reacted and turned to leave.

`Harry; I'm sorry!' she exclaimed, but she was talking only to a white curtain that rippled where Harry Potter had
departed.

************

Hermione felt terrible. She lay in her bed, alone with her thoughts and allowed the guilt to wash over her. She had been
distraught when Harry had left and for about the thousandth time since that moment, she cursed herself for her
insensitivity. She still did not know what had possessed her to react the way she had. Intellectually, she knew that
Harry was correct; he didn't have a choice and what he had been willing to sacrifice for them all defied belief.

He was willing to die for us.

He did die for us.

And this is why she had reacted so badly. She cared about him so much that her shock and fear at what might have
happened had driven her anger. It was not Harry's fault but she had acted as if it was and she now felt ashamed at her
behaviour - not least because she knew with certainty that Harry would be blaming himself for her current predicament.
She closed her eyes and cursed herself once again.

She looked up suddenly as the curtain was ripped aside and when she saw the expression on Ron's face she felt her hopes
of a quick reconciliation dashed. She had asked Ron to go after Harry as soon as he had left but that had been nearly an
hour ago and she had been left wondering what was going on. She looked at Ron expectantly.

`He's gone,' said Ron without preamble.

Hermione felt as if a lead weight had appeared in her stomach. `Gone? Gone where?'

Ron shrugged as he sat down. `No idea. I didn't manage to catch up with him. No one saw him at all - he just vanished.
He left this,' Ron added as he handed her an envelope. `It was on his bed in the dorm.'

Hermione took the proffered parchment and turned it over, noticing her own name on the front. With a feeling of anxiety,
she tore it open and began to read.

Hermione,

I'm sorry. Sorry for everything that has happened. I hate fighting with you and you really don't need the added stress
right now. I could do with some time to myself too - there are a few things I need to deal with and I can't get a minute
to myself at Hogwarts. I need some space and time on my own and I won't find it here so I will be gone for a bit.

I hope you know that you and Ron mean more to me than anyone else in my life. I'm only sorry that I gave you cause to
think otherwise.

Promise me you will look after yourself. I will be back soon  if you still want to see me. I just need a few days on my
own.

Take care

Love

Harry

She closed her eyes at the words and felt the tears well up again. She saw the curious look on Ron's face and wordlessly
handed him the note. As he read it she berated herself for driving Harry away and she really wanted to see him right now
to tell him how sorry she was. This was not a time for him to be on his own. After everything he had been through he
needed those who cared about him near him.

She held her face in her hands and felt an overwhelming sense of loss. She took some hope from his pledge to return and
from the sentiment expressed at the end of his letter but she still felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for saying what
she had to him. She only hoped that when he did return, they would be able to patch things up between them. She glanced
up as she felt Ron's hand on her shoulder and she forced a tremulous smile.

`Don't worry about him,' whispered Ron. `He'll be fine; he won't leave us.'

She nodded at the words and allowed herself to be comforted. She only hoped Ron knew what he was talking about.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

3. Introspection

Harry Potter placed a marker between the pages of the book he was reading and leaned back into his armchair, rubbing his
eyes with both hands as he did so. He glanced at his watch, realising that he did not have much time left before he had
to depart. He lifted his legs and placed his feet on the coffee table in front of him, careful not to upend the pile of
books that was stacked high near the table's edge, or the dirty plate that still contained the remnants of last night's
dinner. Since leaving Hogwarts, he had spent the past three days pouring over books and journals in an attempt to gain a
better understanding of lycanthropy and all the implications of being a werewolf. Research was not normally his forte
but in this instance, he'd been grateful for the distraction.

After his argument with Hermione he had just felt the need to get away from everyone - to get some time on his own in
order to process everything that had happened. He knew that Hermione had not meant to wound him and he could even
understand why she was upset with him, but he could not face her indignation right now and had needed to get away. She
had enough to be dealing with at the moment and his presence was evidently distracting her from the real issue; namely
her coming to terms with being cursed as a werewolf.

The other thing he needed to deal with was what to do with his life. Since the moment of his birth he had been marked
with a destiny and his whole life had been geared towards fulfilling that destiny. Now that he had defeated Voldemort he
had to deal with something even more daunting than the Dark Lord.

What the hell do I do now?

He also felt a pang of regret that he had decided to leave without first speaking to Ginny. He knew that their
relationship had been put on hold until Voldemort was defeated and now that he had accomplished that task, he was well
aware that she deserved more than he had given her up to now. At the very least, she deserved an explanation for his
behaviour. He suspected that her patience should not - could not - be taken for granted. But he was also aware of a deep
sense of anti-climax since defeating Voldemort and part of him was now beginning to realise that recent events had
drained him emotionally as well as physically and psychologically. He wondered if his pining for Ginny this past year
had been out of true affection and attraction or merely a case of trying to grab hold of some normality in a world that
had gone mad. All he knew for sure was that his priority at the moment was Hermione - figuring out his true feelings for
Ginny would have to wait.

So it was with a myriad of conflicting emotions that he had stormed out of the hospital wing and had decided to leave.
He had made straight for the Hogwarts kitchen and had found Kreacher, ordering the little elf to Apparate him straight
to Grimmauld Place. He had then hastily written a note to Hermione and one to Professor McGonagall and had asked
Kreacher to leave the letters where they would be discovered. He had then instructed him to tell absolutely no one where
he was and to place protections on the house that prevented anyone but himself from entering. He had further instructed
his House Elf to tell him when the funerals for those who had died in the battle for Hogwarts were due to take place.
While he did not want to appear in public at the moment he knew that there were a number of ceremonies he wanted to
attend - he was not so selfish that he would disrespect the dead.

He also knew that Kreacher had the intelligence to inform him if anything really serious was happening back at the
school and so he had settled down to a period of isolation. It was what he needed.

It was only after the little elf had disappeared to carry out his instructions that he had considered his reasons for
coming back to Grimmauld Place. It was not a house that contained happy memories for him and it was only when he
explored his motives for coming here that he realised that it was an inspired choice. The Blacks had an extensive
library in the house - an extensive dark library. He had immediately set about locating every book he could on
werewolves, lycanthropy and lunar astrology. Hermione would undergo her change soon and he wanted to - needed to - know
everything there was to learn about the condition by then. He was aware that she would be doing the same back at
Hogwarts but he wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. This was one time when he wanted to do the research for himself.

He picked up his pile of notes and boxed the sprawl of paper into a tidy pile, almost as if he was preparing to shuffle
a deck of cards. He had made copious notes and it occurred to him with a dark amusement that he had not studied so
intensively for any of his subjects at school. He belatedly realised that Hermione had been right all this time; hard
work and study did pay off because he now reckoned to know as much about lycanthropy as anyone - save werewolves
themselves. That was the only thing he lacked; what it was actually like to be a werewolf. He knew he was a practical
person - a doer rather than a thinker - and that he could at times rely more on his emotions and instinct than was good
for him. But all his life he had needed to understand people - to discover what people felt rather than what they
thought and - for all the usefulness of the tomes in front of him - none of them gave a first hand account of what it
was like to actually be a werewolf.

He sighed sadly, suddenly thinking of Remus and how much he was going to miss him. He had loved Remus - had considered
him a dear friend - but he was only now realising just how little about the man he actually knew. He was in complete
ignorance of what life was like for Remus; what he had to deal with every day; what it felt like to be cursed. Was he
normal for most of the month and only lost control at the full moon? Or did he fight the call of the wolf, his life a
continual struggle to maintain control. The books speculated on this - some of them even contained interviews with
werewolves - but none of them managed to convey what it actually meant to be a werewolf.

He knew that he would have mourned the loss of Remus regardless, but he felt particularly bitter right now because he
was aware that his friend's calm authority; his intelligence, insight and - above all - his humanity, would have been
invaluable to Hermione in her struggle to come to terms with what had occurred. Not for the first time in his life, he
cursed the fates that seemed to harm everyone he cared for. It was the funeral of Remus and Tonks that he was preparing
to attend today and - with another glance at his watch - he realised that he would need to leave in a few minutes.

He turned his attention back to his notes and started to re-read them, particularly scrutinising those paragraphs he had
underlined, deeming the information contained within to be of importance. He had been particularly surprised to learn of
the difference being bitten by a fully transformed werewolf and one still in human form. He'd been vaguely aware that
there was a difference because of the limited symptoms displayed by Bill, but he'd had no idea just how profound those
differences were. While Bill carried the curse, he remained in control of himself at all times - even during the full
moon. Bill did have some wolverine qualities - according to the books he would now have a heightened sense of smell and
sight; and he would possess an instinct - almost a “sixth sense” - that warned him of danger. But apart from that, Bill
was completely normal. Remus on the other hand, would have experienced something very different. According to the books,
at the full moon the wolf took over completely. All reason and cognitive thought went out of the window as the beast
took control. Harry remembered his own fear and horror when he had witnessed Remus lose control back in 3rd year. Had it
not been for Sirius' intervention that night, Remus would have torn everyone to shreds - people he loved and cared about
would have been savaged by his own hand. Even when it wasn't full moon, Remus would still have felt the call of the
wild; a latent, primitive urge to let loose the beast within. When the full moon drew near, he would have found himself
under more stress; the challenge of remaining in control getting harder as the due date approached.

And they still didn't know what nature of the beast Hermione would have to face. They would not know until the 10th and
he knew that so much depended on whether or not Greyback had been transformed when he had bitten Hermione.

And that was the other thing that was troubling him. Nowhere in any of the books that he'd read did he find anything
about werewolves being able to change form at will, especially when the moon was not full. Had it not been for the fact
that it was Bill who was so sure he had seen Greyback in human form - and that it had been Remus who had seen him
transformed - he would have thought it impossible. But he did not doubt Bill for one second; he'd take his word over a
textbook any day of the week.

That just leaves me with the problem of figuring out how Greyback had managed it.

With a deep sigh he placed his notes on the coffee table and stood, collecting his cloak as he did so. It was time to
leave; time to face the public and - more importantly - time to see his two friends again. He was nervous; he was
dreading the attention he knew he would receive the second he showed up. He had never really gotten used to it and he
knew that it was about to get ten times worse now that he'd defeated Voldemort for good. But if he was honest with
himself, he was more nervous about seeing Hermione again. He hoped that things would be sorted between them and he did
not want to face another inquisition today. He knew that he would have to resolve his issues with her sooner or later
but for the moment he earnestly hoped that it would be “later.”

Casting one last glance around the room to make sure he had left nothing behind, he closed his eyes and concentrated
before disappearing with a soft pop to his intended destination.

***********

Ron Weasley cursed in frustration as he fumbled with the knot on his tie in a futile attempt to straighten it out and
thus make himself presentable. Today was the second funeral he would be attending after the interment of Colin Creevey
yesterday and he wondered if this was some kind of punishment that the fates had decided to inflict on the living. The
survivors had to bury the dead and he was sure that everyone present yesterday felt the same conflicting emotions of
grief and relief that he had experienced. He did not intend to attend every funeral but he knew that there was some that
he needed to go to. Colin had been the first victim to be buried and so he had felt a sense of obligation to attend.
Today it was the funeral of friends - Remus and Tonks - and he would never miss that. He felt his eyes smart suddenly as
he realised that the next funeral he would go to would be that of his own brother.

Oh, Fred.

He thought back to the events of the previous day and remembered the scenes of consternation when it became apparent
that Harry was not going to be in attendance. There had almost been a sense of indignation among some of the mourners
that the “chosen one” had elected to stay away and Ron had felt many eyes on himself and Hermione as they stood by the
cold grave. He didn't think he should have been in such a prominent place. While Colin had been a housemate and friend,
they had never been close and he had felt something of a fraud as he and Hermione had been jostled into a position of
prominence alongside the chief mourners. He knew that the two of them had been viewed almost as proxies for the absent
Harry and he was now - finally - beginning to appreciate what his dear friend had to put up with. He and Hermione had
been treated with reverence - almost awe - for their part in the defeat of Voldemort. For Harry, things were going to be
much, much worse. His name and image had covered just about every square inch of every newspaper these past few days and
with no-one able to contact him direct, the media had gone overboard in wild speculation. Everyone now wanted a piece of
Harry and Ron found himself wondering if they'd ever leave his best mate alone.

When he thought back to all of the times he had resented Harry for his fame he felt ashamed. It was only now that he had
an inkling about the price of that fame and what it actually meant. He had experienced a mere taste of it at Colin's
funeral; Harry had been dealing with it his entire life and now it was going to get worse. Even at the graveside, people
had asked where Harry was. He and Hermione had been able to reply truthfully that they had no idea.

He smiled ruefully as he recalled Hermione's attempts to track Harry down. She had been extremely anxious about him and
had even resorted to calling Kreacher in order to get as much information as possible. She had reasoned with him; had
coaxed and cajoled and had finally even tried to order the wizened little elf into revealing Harry's whereabouts but
Kreacher had stood firm. He had patiently explained that his master was quite safe and had ordered him to tell no one
where he was. Ron's wry smile widened at the memory. Hermione had been close to tears, such was her exasperation. She
had reckoned that Harry was holing out at Grimmauld Place but every attempt she had made to gain entry to the house had
been thwarted. He had tried to soothe her fears; had suggested that Harry would return when he was ready and that he
probably needed some time alone. Now; as he remembered the staring eyes at the funeral, he was aware that Harry had made
a sensible choice.

He had even sensed a feeling of indignation from some of the crowd at Harry's absence but that mood had disappeared
after the ceremony when Hermione had overheard some disparaging remarks about their mutual friend. She had rounded on
the astonished individual who had said that Harry's absence was a “disgrace” and had torn strips off the unfortunate
person until he had stepped in to gently pull her away. He'd been astonished at her outburst but had quickly realised
that this out of character display was entirely down to the stress she was under at the moment. She was dealing with her
bite and she was also dealing with the fallout of her fight with Harry. He wouldn't have wagered a single Knut on what
was causing her the most anxiety though.

He'd been surprised at his own sense of decorum too. He had been equally offended at the overheard remark but he had
managed to restrain himself and had delicately manoeuvred Hermione away when what he really wanted to do was punch the
idiot who'd made the remark right in his fat mouth. As he had done so he had caught an approving look from Professor
McGonagall and he had suddenly realised that he was doing as he had promised. He was doing what he should always have
been doing; he was looking out for Hermione and he was pleased that he had managed to keep his word to Harry; that he
would be there for her when she needed him.

And she does need me right now.

He'd decided that he would do everything he could to help. Hermione meant so much to him - had done so much for him -
that it was only right that he do everything in his power to alleviate her distress. So it was for this reason that he
had found himself sitting up in bed late at night surreptitiously reading everything he could on Lycanthropy in order to
gain a better understanding of the condition. He had found it hard at first - he emphatically was not a reader - but he
had gleaned some useful information that he hoped would make him better prepared for what lay ahead. He had paid
particular attention to the astronomy involved in the whole process and for about the thousandth time, he had cursed
himself for not paying more attention in class.

He had been confused at first. He had struggled with the terminology and it was some time before he knew the difference
between waxing gibbous (51-99% of the moon visible on the right side) and waning gibbous (51-99% of the moon visible on
the left side); that a synodic month was a lunar phase and lasted just over twenty nine and a half days; that fourteen
synodic months can be referred to as a full moon cycle; that a “blue moon” was the third full moon of a four full moon
season and that there is no settled rule as to exactly how long a full moon lasts.

It had been a lot to take in and that was just for starters. But at least he now knew what Bill had meant when talking
about the moon being full between 95% waxing gibbous and 95% waning gibbous. The short, non-technical version was that
Hermione would have to deal with the full moon over nearly three days instead of just one.

He closed his eyes as he considered what his friend - his girlfriend - was dealing with. He knew that it was all going
to come down to what form Greyback had been in when he bit her. Hermione's life would be dictated by that simple fact
and his impatience at waiting for the full moon to begin was beginning to drive him to distraction. He just wanted to
know; to find out exactly what they were dealing with. The uncertainty was testing the patience of everyone in the know
and he knew that it was infinitely worse for Hermione who - for one of the few instances in her life - was entirely
powerless to do anything except wait.

But he had resolved something to himself; whatever the outcome, whatever the consequences of the full moon, he fully
intended to stand by his girlfriend and give her the support she deserved.

It is the very least I can do.

With a final nod of confirmation at his reflection in the mirror, Ron turned and - gathering his cloak on the way - left
the room and headed down the stairs.

***********

Hermione Granger sat waiting for Ron Weasley in one of the comfortable armchairs in front of the common room fire deep
in thought. She gazed into the grate in front of her even though no flames burned as it was a fine and warm spring
morning. Thankfully, no one seemed inclined to disturb her musings and she was grateful for the solitude as she mulled
over the events of the past few days.

She had been experiencing a permanent feeling of nervousness ever since the discovery that she had suffered a bite from
a werewolf. This nervousness was only matched by the frustration and impatience she felt at the helplessness of her
situation. For once she was facing a problem that could not be solved by books.

Not that she hadn't tried. She had spent many hours in the library reading up on Lycanthropy in an attempt to glean new
information on the condition. It had not been a particularly productive exercise and she knew - without conceit - that
this was due entirely to the fact that she already knew most of what had been written on the subject. When they had
covered werewolves in DADA; had discussed Wolfesbane in Potions and had examined the moon in Astronomy she had paid
attention as she always did. As a result, there was not much more she could learn. There were only two things she did
not know about Lycanthropy and she knew neither were in any of the books she had read. The first was how Greyback had
been seen in both forms. It simply made no sense and went against everything she had ever learned on the subject but she
knew there would be no easy answer to that question.

However, while this played on her mind what really drove her to distraction was the other thing she could not find in
any book. What was lacking - what she really needed to know - was what it actually felt like to be a werewolf.

She sank deeper into the armchair and sighed. The waiting was killing her. It would be another few days before she
discovered the extent of her curse; would she be like Bill or would she be facing the same issues that Remus had
struggled against all his life? She was genuinely fearful of what awaited her. She prided herself on her intellect and
reason - on her self control. She knew that over the years there had been many instances where these qualities had been
of significant help to Harry in his struggle against Voldemort and she was proud of this. But now she faced the prospect
of losing this reason; of becoming a primitive creature and being controlled by a beast for three days a month. She
closed her eyes as she felt the bile rise in her throat. This was what she feared more than anything; the loss of
control that would become part of her life if fully cursed. She was aware that werewolves often bit themselves if no
victim was available and this lack of rationality terrified her. It was why she had not been acting herself; why she had
lost her temper yesterday at Colin's funeral at a stupid overheard remark. That the remark had been about Harry hadn't
helped matters either; she knew that part of her frustration was down to what had passed between them a few days ago.

She was still annoyed at herself for causing an argument with Harry and for ultimately driving him away. She knew she
had been selfish; that her anger at him was borne from a sense of fear at what might have happened to him. Her memory of
how she felt when she had seen him lying dead in the arms of Hagrid still tormented her and it was this more than
anything that had driven her anger. She still thought that he should have come to see her before going off to face
Voldemort but she also knew that it was not the first time Harry had acted unilaterally and it probably would not be the
last time either. She missed him though and was worried about him. Despite Ron's views on the matter, she was sure that
Harry needed company right now - or more specifically; needed her company. She had a good idea where he was hiding out
but her attempts to enter Grimmauld place had been thwarted. She had even subjected Kreacher to repeated questioning but
the little elf had refused all requests for information and had merely assured her that Harry was safe and well.
Kreacher had spoken with confidence and so she had finally accepted that Harry was fine; that his elf would take good
care of him and would not let anything bad happen to him. But the frustration she felt at the calm refusal of Kreacher
to assist her was almost enough to make her want to abandon SPEW.

So she had tried to lose herself in research but it had largely proven to be a futile exercise. The books had not been
able to help much and she was ruefully aware that this was down to her already extensive knowledge of the subject. She
still could not get a handle on what it felt like to lose all control and while there had been testimonies from
werewolves in some of the books, all had struggled to articulate what it was actually like to go through such a change.
Right now she did not feel any different but she was well aware that this could change within a matter of days. Soon she
too might know what it was to lose control.

The only useful information she had gleaned was from a legal/political aspect. Magical politics was still something of a
closed book to her as the system of government was completely alien to what she understood of the Muggle system. She had
been struck mainly by the inconsistencies that typified werewolf legislation and she was astonished that there was not
one office that dealt with the issue. She was already aware of the 1637 Werewolf Code of Condcuct, but she had not
realised that werewolves had been shunted between the Beast and Being divisions of the Department for the Regulation and
Control of Magical Creatures for years. At one point, the Werewolf Registry and Werewolf Capture Unit were both in the
Beast Division, while at the same time the office for Werewolf Support Services was in the Being Division. It was no
wonder that the status of werewolves was ambiguous when even the Ministry itself could not decide what department should
deal with them. She had also discovered just how deep-rooted the prejudices were against werewolves. It was virtually
impossible for one to get a job and none were trusted by the general population. While she had thought she had known
Remus Lupin, she was now realising just how little she knew of what he'd had to put up with throughout his short life.
Having to resign his post at Hogwarts was not the exception; it was the rule for werewolves in a society that refused to
tolerate them. This knowledge frightened her; she had always believed that once Voldemort was defeated she would be free
to choose her path. It seemed that she might not be so lucky. If she was fully cursed then her life in the magical world
would be very different from anything she had envisaged.

She glanced up as she saw Ron emerge from the dormitory passage and despite her current mood, she smiled. He really had
been trying his best over the past few days and she was more grateful than she could say for his efforts. He had
respected her decision to keep her bite a secret until they knew the extent of her condition and he had alleviated her
concerns about Harry by reassuring her that he needed the space. He had helped her by mainly being Ron. By being there
for her and by acting his usual irreverent self and by making her laugh. They had shared a few soft kisses too and she
was proud of him that her condition had not seemed to affect the way he evidently felt about her. Their relationship was
on the first tentative steps but everything seemed to be going well - if one ignored an estranged friend and a werewolf
bite, she thought in grim amusement.

Ron noticed the smile and raised an eyebrow questioningly but she was not inclined to tell him of the black humour she
was currently enjoying.

`I'm just thinking that we will get to see Harry today,' she replied to his unspoken question. `There is no way he would
miss saying goodbye to Remus. I'm hoping to get a chance to apologise to him properly.'

Ron smiled at the reply and it struck her that it was a sign of his growing maturity that he did not seem to take
umbrage at her thinking of Harry. Perhaps his achievements in helping to defeat Voldemort had finally given him the
self-confidence that he had always lacked? She held out her arm.

`Ready to go?'

Ron's smile broadened. `I sure am. Let's go and see a friend,' he added softly before linking her arm in his own and
leading them from the room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

4. Surviving

Hermione trod carefully as she allowed Ron to lead her by the hand through the throng that surrounded the freshly dug
graves that served as a reminder to all the survivors just how fine the line was between life and death. It was a
beautiful late spring morning and as her eyes took in the wooded surroundings she became aware of the constant trill of
birdsong that chorused from the larks and sparrows that perched in the treetops. The song sounded joyful; an almost
blasphemous choir on this most solemn of days. She nodded a few terse acknowledgements to those that greeted her with a
smile or a wave. To the Weasleys and to Minerva; to Kingsley and to Hagrid and to a few of the others who had come to
pay their last respects to Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. She hesitantly cast her eyes towards an isolated figure
standing with a child in her arms. Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin; one who had lost both a husband and a daughter; the
other now an orphan - too young to appreciate his predicament. She felt the first tears smart at her eyes as she
considered the plight of Teddy and her thoughts turned to another orphan; one who was her dearest friend and one who was
not in attendance this fine morning.

She finally reached the graveside and raised a questioning eyebrow towards Minerva. The headmistress seemed to
understand her unspoken question for she merely shrugged and gestured with her head towards a Ministry official who was
waiting to start proceedings. The man looked nervous; it seemed like he had been waiting for her and Ron to arrive
before starting.

And Harry too, of course.

She couldn't believe that he wasn't here; that he would elect to absent himself from the burial of a dear friend -
friends. She felt a growing sense of annoyance as the official shuffled his feet, unsure as to whether or not to begin
without the “guest of honour.” To calm herself, she allowed her eyes to pass over the crowd and take in the numerous
people present. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Ginny watching her carefully, her face an inscrutable mask
and she felt a surge of sympathy for her red-haired friend. The past few days had not been easy for anyone, but Ginny
had felt abandoned when Harry had left so abruptly. She knew that unresolved issues lay between the two of them and she
hoped that Harry finally had the sense to do something about it - to finally start living. She gave her friend a small
nod and was pleased to see Ginny offer a small smile in return.

She turned her attention away from the Weasleys and nearly cried out as she spotted the last three people she expected
to see here today.

The Malfoys.

They were somehow standing alone in a vast crowd; shunned as if contaminated in some way. They stood straight of back
and expressionless and she remembered that Tonks had been the niece of Narcissa.

That must be why they are here.

No one knew what to do with them. Their past sins were well known but she had heard that Kingsley was unsure about how
to deal with them because he had somehow heard that Narcissa had assisted Harry. She knew that a lot of people were
waiting for Harry to tell his tale - rumour was rife and the speculation in the Prophet was getting ridiculous - no
version of events seemed too outlandish for Rita Skeeter. It was yet another reason that Harry should not have left, in
her opinion.

She turned as the Ministry official finally cleared his throat in preparation to begin and felt a sudden surge of anger
at Harry for not attending the funeral of such dear friends. This feeling was soon halted however; halted by a sudden
commotion among the onlookers. She turned to the source of the murmuring and watched in astonishment as the throng began
separate, creating a passage almost like Moses parting the Red Sea.

Harry.

It could be for no other reason and her suspicions were proved correct when the crowd parted enough to reveal a very
sheepish looking Harry Potter as he hesitantly made his way to the graveside. He was being thrust forward by a few hands
from the crowd, his reluctance to take centre stage obvious.

At least; it is obvious to me.

The crowd at this particular point were made up of Aurors - friends and colleagues of Tonks - and as they parted they
formed what looked like a guard of honour as Harry self-consciously made his way through the throng. He approached with
his head down, doing his best to ignore the stares and she shook her head in exasperation as she realised that he had
been trying to hang back unnoticed. He should have known that this was impossible under the circumstances. The reaction
of the onlookers was predictable yet still strangely astonishing. The murmuring had stopped and now the crowd were
regarding Harry in reverential silence - even awe. As he neared, he finally looked up and their eyes met and she would
never forget the expression on his face. He looked composed but his eyes were almost pleading for release. She knew he
had never been comfortable with his fame but she was also acutely aware that what he had experienced up to now was
nothing compared to the maelstrom that was heading his way after his triumph over Voldemort.

To her surprise, she found that she was nervous as he approached. Their last words had been spoken in anger and she
still wasn't sure if they were back on normal terms. Her fears were allayed however as Harry finally arrived next to her
and - without saying a word - he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He nodded briefly to Ron then turned and
faced the Ministry Official, almost as if giving his consent to begin. He did not let go of her hand.

She would never admit to anyone that she could not remember a word that was said by the official that day. She tried to
listen, but her thoughts were concentrated solely on her friend standing next to her, holding her hand. On more than one
occasion, she surreptitiously glanced at him and noticed that he did not cry. Instead, she saw that he frequently cast
furtive glances in the direction of Teddy Lupin.

His Godson.

It was this thought crashing into her mind that finally proved to be the catalyst that allowed her own grief to flow.
She thought of Teddy, now an orphan and as much a victim of Voldemort as anyone and this realisation led her to think of
all the victims; all of the shattered lives and sudden, violent deaths. Inevitably, her thoughts turned to her parents,
living in Australia and oblivious of her existence. She realised how much she needed them and so her tears finally
flowed unchecked as she let out all the grief and fear she was enduring. Her vision was blurred as the official finally
finished and the mortal remains of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were laid to rest. She was aware only that Harry had
drawn her into a tight, comforting embrace and that Ron had released his hold on her to allow him to do so. For once,
she allowed herself the release of tears and sank into the embrace of her best friend. Not a soul stirred; not a sound
could be heard as the onlookers contemplated the final resting place of two cherished friends.

The silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity before it was finally broken by Harry who gently released her
before slowly approaching the graves and picking up a handful of dirt. He cut a solitary figure as he looked down on the
coffin of Remus Lupin and - without saying a word - he gently sprinkled some of the dirt over the remains of his friend
before repeating the gesture over the grave of Tonks. He stood in silence for a few moments longer before shaking his
head as if awakening from a dream and heading straight towards Andromeda Tonks. The crowd suddenly let out a deep sigh,
almost as if it had been holding its breath and Hermione was shaken from her thoughts back into the moment. She grabbed
Ron's hand before dragging him along with her as she made for Harry and Andromeda. It briefly occurred to her that she
had no right to intrude on a private conversation but she was also aware of a need to be close to Harry - almost an
instinct to keep him safe. She felt the eyes on the crowd on her as she reached Andromeda just as Harry did. He turned
in surprise but did not demur at her presence. Instead, he turned back to Andromeda and regarded her gravely. She turned
her attention to Teddy's Grandmother as well and was struck by the dignity Andromeda was displaying.

But then; she is a Black, isn't she? She married a Muggle and she rejected the Dark, but she's still a Black.

Andromeda stood tall as she cradled her grandson in her arms. Her features were grief stricken but no tears flowed from
her eyes and she regarded Harry with a questioning look. Finally, Harry cleared his throat awkwardly.

`May I offer you my condolences, Mrs Tonks?' he said quietly.

`Thank you, Mr Potter. Harry,' Andromeda replied, emphasising his forename. `Please; call me Andromeda. “Mrs Tonks”
makes me feel old and I need to be young,' she added, gesturing with her head to the child in her arms. An awkward
silence ensued as Harry decided what to do next and Andromeda must have sensed his discomfort as she took the initiative
and smiled gently.

`My daughter and Remus told me of their decision to make you Teddy's Godfather, Harry. I take it this is why you wish to
speak to me?'

Harry nodded. `It is,' he replied, his voice thick. `I…I just wanted you to know that I am here if you or Teddy need
anything - anything at all. I…I would like to be a part of Teddy's life. I want you to know that even though I am only
seventeen, I take my oaths seriously. When Remus asked me I knew that being Godfather to Teddy might one day prove more
than a mere ceremonial role.' He hesitated and looked at his feet. `I know what it is like to be an orphan. He is lucky
to have you, Andromeda. But I am asking your permission to allow me to be a part of his life too.' He looked Andromeda
in the eye before continuing. `I don't think it is possible to have too much love in your life. Dumbledore taught me
that. Remus did too, in his own way. Will you allow me to help? To love Teddy?'

Hermione felt the tears begin to fall again at hearing Harry's appeal and she noticed that for the first time that day,
tears began to roll down the cheeks of Andromeda Tonks too. But Andromeda was smiling as she cried.

`Oh, Harry. As if you even need to ask. You were chosen for a reason, Harry. Both Nymphadora and Remus wanted you to be
Teddy's Godfather because they both loved and respected you. Do you think I would gainsay their choice? After everything
you have done? I would be honoured if you agree to be a part of Teddy's life. I can offer him much but he will need a
man in his life, Harry. A role model; a father figure. I cannot think of anyone more worthy. Thank you.'

Harry nodded at her words and Hermione saw the relief in his eyes and the sadness too. He stood awkwardly for a moment,
gazing at Andromeda before he turned his attention to Teddy.

`Can I…may I…hold him?' he asked and to Hermione, he sounded like the small child that she had first met seven years
ago. The boy who believed he needed permission to receive anything. She felt her tears increase as Andromeda's smile
widened.

`Of course you can, Harry,' she replied before gently passing Teddy towards him. She took a few moments to show him the
correct way to hold an infant and at first it was obvious that Harry was holding the child almost as if he was made of
the most fragile glass.

`He won't break, Harry. He's quite a robust little fellow,' said Andromeda. `Just relax and Teddy will relax too.'

Harry flashed Andromeda a smile before turning his attention to the child cradled in his arms. Hermione could see that
Teddy was looking up at the strange face with wide eyes. Harry just stared back and didn't move until his finger was
wrapped in the tiny hand of the infant. She felt a flowering in her heart at the sight and took comfort with the sudden
knowledge that life would go on. Teddy represented the future, the promise of better times and of a generation who would
grow up without the shadow of Voldemort. One day this child would learn that his Godfather did more than anyone else to
remove this shadow; would learn that his parents had died fighting that same evil, but for now he seemed content to
stare wide eyed at the strange face and tug contentedly on Harry's index finger. She watched as Harry gently lowered his
head and planted a soft kiss on Teddy's forehead. For some reason she imagined him doing the same with his own child and
for a brief moment, she found herself standing next to Harry, embracing him and “their” son. She flushed, wondering
where such an image had come from. She shook herself free of the thought as Harry spoke again.

`Thank you,' he whispered as he passed the child back to his grandmother. `Just let me know if you ever need anything.'

Andromeda smiled again and made to reply but her attention was diverted by the approach of Kingsley and Minerva.

`Minister,' Andromeda said tersely, unhappy at the interruption.

`Forgive me, Andromeda,' began Kingsley in his rich voice. `I do not wish to intrude. Can I speak first as a friend
rather than as Minister? Can I offer you my condolences? Tonk…Nymphadora was a dear friend and colleague to me. Ted was
a fine man too. I am so sorry for your loss.'

Andromeda's expression softened. `Thank you, Kingsley. I appreciate that. I know that Dora thought very highly of you.'
Her expression turned quizzical for a moment, her eyes shrewd. `Is there something else? Is there something you need to
discuss as Minister rather than as a friend?'

Kingsley looked uncomfortable for a moment. `Perhaps now is not the time,' he began. `It is just that I have some
information regarding the estate of Remus. I wanted to arrange a more convenient time to discuss this with you.' He
turned to Harry. `You too,' he added.

`Me?' asked Harry, mystified.

Kingsley nodded. `Remus approached me some time ago with instructions about what to do in the event of his death. He
appointed me executor of his estate - his and Tonk…I mean Dora's,' he added hastily as he noticed the beady look
Andromeda was giving him.

Harry took a moment to digest this news. `I don't mean to be rude,' he finally said, `but I didn't think Remus had much
to leave to anyone.'

Kingsley nodded soberly. `He didn't have much, Harry. He struggled all his life because of his…condition. But he did
have a few items that he has left to Teddy. I will not go into details here but he has appointed both you and Andromeda
as Trustees until Teddy comes of age - if you are willing, that is.'

`Of course I am willing,' said Harry.

`Good.' He hesitated for a few moments. `I would also like the chance to discuss what happened…' he could not finish.

Harry sighed. `What happened the night I killed Voldemort?' he asked with resignation. Kingsley looked extremely
uncomfortable.

`I'm sorry, Harry. This is a bad time. But we must talk - there is a lot of rumour and gossip and it is not helping us
to begin the rebuilding process. I need to know what happened in order to proceed. The Malfoys, for example…' he shook
his head in despair. `I hate to ask this of you, Harry. I hope you know that I am a friend to you. But I am Minister too
and I have new responsibilities.'

Harry felt his resentment dissipate as he regarded Kingsley. He could see the sadness in the elder man's eyes and he
suspected that this sadness was because his friend had finally realised that his life would never be the same again. He
was not Kingsley anymore; he was Minister and Harry reckoned that he would not have wanted the position or the attention
that it brought. No; Kingsley would only have agreed to the appointment because he knew no one else - at least no one
worthy - was available.

Good men got the heaviest burdens.

`It's OK, Kingsley,' he finally replied. `I understand. Perhaps better than you realise. I don't know when it will be
convenient though. We can hardly do it here,' he added, smiling as he did so to take the sting out of his words.

Kingsley smiled too and looked around as the crowd slowly departed from the graveside, the vast majority casting furtive
glances towards the little group standing around Andromeda and Teddy. He hesitated for a moment and cast a glance
towards Ron before continuing.

`I know Molly and Arthur have invited people to the Burrow after Fred's funeral tomorrow,' he began quietly. `Might it
be possible to discuss the matter there? I know that I am not the only one who wishes to hear the story but it is of
course up to you who you decide to inform.' He turned to Andromeda. `We can go over Remus' request at a more convenient
time, if that is OK?'

`That is acceptable, Kingsley. Just inform me when you are free,' replied Andromeda. All eyes turned back to Harry he
was obviously deep in thought.

`Tomorrow at the Burrow is fine with me. That is…' he turned to Ron a questioning look on his face.

Ron regarded him gravely. `I know I want all the details, Harry. And mum and dad will definitely want to hear
everything.' He looked at his feet. `Perhaps tomorrow is appropriate. Then they will know that Fred didn't die in vain.'
He looked up again. `I think it would be a fitting memorial for him,' he added, his voice beginning to crack.

The two friends shared a look that was only interrupted when Hermione put her arms around Ron and embraced him tightly.
Everyone else present took a moment to regain their composure.

Kingsley looked at Ron gravely. `Thank you, Ron. That is a noble sentiment. I shall speak to your parents.' He turned to
the others. `I will not take up any more of your time for the present. My apologies for bringing the matter up here.
Good day to you all,' he added with a curt nod before departing. All eyes followed him briefly before turning to Minerva
who had stood patiently waiting her turn.

`Andromeda? Allow me to offer you my condolences. They will both be sadly missed. Ted too,' the headmistress added
sadly.

`Thank you, Minerva,' replied Andromeda. `Thank you for coming.'

Minerva dismissed this with a wave of her hand before continuing. `Do you mind if I borrow these three for a few
moments?' she asked, gesturing at Harry, Hermione and Ron.

`Not at all. I have a number of people to speak to. Please; carry on.'

They took their leave of Andromeda and followed Minerva to a quiet spot under a nearby sycamore tree. Minerva glanced
around before speaking.

`I have made arrangements for Sunday,' she began without preamble. `I have created a secure room in the castle dungeons
that should prove sufficient,' she added, regarding Hermione with a sympathetic look.

Hermione suddenly felt sick at the news; as if somehow the preparation made everything seem more real. Minerva seemed to
sense her distress.

`There is a still a chance that it will not prove necessary, but we must take precautions.'

Hermione nodded. `I know, and thank you.' She looked at her feet.

Harry noticed her distress and felt pained himself. `Is it totally necessary?' he asked. `Can we not give her some
Wolfesbane potion?'

`Not for her first change, Harry,' replied Minerva. `We must establish the full extent of the curse and so we must let
it run its course. Hopefully, there will be no need for the potion on future nights.' Her face took on a curious look
for a moment. `Besides; Severus was the only truly skilled potion master able enough to make the potion to the highest
levels.' The question in her voice as she said the name of her former colleague was obvious. `We might have some in his
old storeroom but the potion does not age well. I fear it will not be as effective as it should be. We must brew some
more but it will not be as good.' She sighed. `I am sorry to bring this up here but I thought you would rather know and
I wasn't sure if I would get a chance to talk in private later. I hope you understand.'

Hermione nodded. `We do understand. And thank you.' She glanced at Harry and narrowed her eyes at him trying to convey a
message. Thankfully, he seemed to understand.

`Professor?' Harry began. `There are some things you need to know about…Severus. About everything,' he added. `I will be
going over it all with Kingsley tomorrow at the Burrow. I think you ought to be there too. There are things you need to
know.'

Minerva looked on him for a long moment, her surprise at Harry's use of Snape's given name obvious. `I am grateful,
Harry,' she finally replied. `I must admit that I am deeply curious as to what you meant when you told Voldemort that
Severus was Dumbledore's man all along. If this is true then he did a very good job of hiding the fact. I would like to
know if I have misjudged him.'

`You did misjudge him. We all did. He was on our side all along. You deserve to know the truth, Professor. Severus
deserves the truth to be recognised.'

Minerva regarded him again before speaking. `In that case, I will see you all tomorrow.' She smiled. `Good day to you
all,' she added before striding off.

The three friends turned to each other, all lost in thought. Hermione could sense a new awkwardness between them and
suddenly realised that there were still a few things to be straightened out. She noticed that Harry was looking at his
feet and that Ron was looking at the tree branches overhead as if he had suddenly developed an interest in ornithology.
She took a deep breath.

`Harry?' she began. `I'm sorr:-`

`Don't,' interrupted Harry, without looking up. `Don't tell me you are sorry. You don't need to; you have nothing to be
sorry for.'

`But I said terrible things to you.'

He finally met her eye. `You spoke the truth, Hermione. You always speak the truth. I understand why you were angry with
me. Had the roles been revered then I would be angry with you too. I did not leave because of our argument. I just
needed to be on my own for a bit - I needed to sort a few things out with myself. For what it's worth, I'm feeling much
better.' He paused as he considered his next words. `But I hope you understand why I went off to face him alone. It
wasn't because I didn't need you. Or Ron. You know that, don't you?' His question was almost a plea.

`I know that, Harry,' she replied. A long silence ensued as each contemplated what had been exchanged; a silence finally
broken by Ron.

`You two are forgetting that I'm not as sharp as you,' he said with a smile. `I have no idea why you went to face him on
your own. If it were me in your shoes then I would have caught the first boat to Bolivia and to hell with Voldemort and
everything.' His expression turned serious. `I don't have a problem with what you did, Harry, but I am curious. Why
didn't you come and see us first? Even to say goodbye?'

Hermione thought she knew the answer to that and waited for Harry to confirm her suspicions. He took his time before
replying.

`Two reasons,' her friend finally said.

`Two?' asked Ron.

`Yeah. First, I didn't want to risk the two of you demanding to come with me. I would have had to have stunned you or
something to stop you from joining me. I needed to die; you two didn't.'

`And?'

`And I don't think I would have been able to make that walk if I saw either of you. You would have tried to talk me out
of it and I would have listened because I was terrified. I wouldn't have been able to say goodbye; you both mean too
much to me.' He looked directly at Ron and smiled. `I would have been on that boat to Bolivia with you. I'd have rowed
there if given the chance.'

Hermione watched with pride as the two men she loved more than life itself regarded each other. What she could see
between them was something that they would never say aloud but she knew it was there nonetheless. They loved each other
like brothers and she considered herself blessed to have them both in her life. She felt a sense of peace at Harry's
admission. Her suspicions had proved to be correct and it was with a sense of awe that she now contemplated the
sacrifice he had been willing to make for them all. She felt the tears run down her cheeks again and was suddenly
startled as the two of them turned to face her.

`What?' they asked in unison. `What's wrong?' added Ron.

She didn't reply. Instead she shook her head at them both and smiled before embracing them together and dashing off to
be on her own for a few moments. She did not see the bemused expressions on the faces of her friends as they turned to
face one another.

`Mental,' said Ron. `Totally mental, that one.'

Harry's smile broadened and he let out a deep, rumbling laugh.

`Yeah; absolutely bonkers. But she's your girlfriend, Ron. So you need to ask yourself who the mental one really is.'

For once, Ron didn't have a response to a jest made at his expense. He struggled for a pithy reply for a few moments
before grinning sheepishly.

`You've got me there,' he finally replied.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

5. Reality Bites

Harry sighed as he put down his empty glass on the table and delicately poured himself another Butterbeer. The Burrow
was starting to empty as most of the guests who had come back after Fred's funeral had gradually departed over the
course of the day. Now all who remained were those he had decided needed to know the full story of his victory over
Voldemort. It had been a trying day and he was not looking forward to telling his story.

The funeral had been something of an ordeal. The turnout had been impressive and it was a tribute to the calibre of man
Fred Weasley had been that so many of his contemporaries had elected to say a final farewell. It had not been easy
though; Molly and Arthur had understandably been distraught and the rest of the Weasleys had shed many tears as the
coffin was lowered into its final resting place. As it had finally disappeared from view, he'd cast a glance at George
who seemed to be beyond grief, such was his distress. Harry had no siblings and could not begin to understand the loss,
but it struck him that there was something particularly poignant about a twin having to bury his brother. George had
finally cracked and let the tears flow and the remaining twin's agony was something Harry knew he would never forget.

The funeral had not been without incident. Word of his return had spread and as a result Rita Skeeter had been waiting
like a vulture to pounce on any scraps of news. She'd been forcibly removed by Bill and Charlie and it had been with no
small degree of satisfaction that they'd told her in no uncertain terms to clear off. He suspected that retribution was
in the offing for such a snub but right now he did not give two hoots about Rita bloody Skeeter or anyone else of her
ilk. He reckoned that only a few people deserved to know the full story. He trusted Kingsley to reveal that which was
important and to discreetly withhold that which no one else needed to know.

`Are you ready, Harry?'

He found himself smiling, despite his nerves. The concern was obvious in Hermione's voice and he turned to face her.

`As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. Let's get this over with.'

She nodded and took his hand as she led him into the familiar sitting room. He at least felt comfortable in such
surroundings; the Burrow had provided him with so much succour and relief over the years that he was glad he had chosen
it as the location for his “confession.” He felt the eyes of everyone present on him as he took his seat. All of the
Weasleys were present, including Fleur. Kingsley, Hagrid and Minerva were also in attendance and he was glad about this.
They had all made a huge contribution to the final victory and he believed they deserved the full story. He was aware of
a profound silence and so took a deep breath and began to speak.

He talked for over an hour without interruption. He told them of the Horcruxes and the Hallows. Of the deal made between
Albus and Severus and the manner of the latter's death. He spoke of his mother's sacrifice and the double connection
that had been forged between himself and Voldemort. He omitted nothing; the ordeals in the tent when they were on the
run; the events at Godric's Hollow; Hermione's torture at Malfoy Manor and Dobby's heroic intervention; he spoke of
Draco being master of the Elder wand and his own sudden appropriation of the weapon. Finally, he told them of his death;
of Dumbledore offering the choice to return and of Narcissa Malfoy's duplicity and how he had needed her to lie for him.
When he reached the end of his tale he was aware of only silence; a silence broken only by the intermittent sobs from
several of the people present.

`Did you know?' Minerva finally managed to ask.

`Know what?' he replied.

`Did you know Voldemort's curse wouldn't work?'

`No,' he replied simply.

This revelation was greeted with silence.

`But why, Harry?' asked Ginny suddenly. `Surely there was another way? You never even said goodbye!'

He deliberately avoided looking in Hermione's direction at these words. Instead he turned to his former girlfriend.

`I had no choice, Ginny. He had to be destroyed and it was the only way. What was one more death if it meant ridding us
of him forever?' He looked up sharply as Arthur approached him and felt suddenly isolated and threatened for some reason
but was relieved when the elder man simply refilled his glass. He nodded gratefully to him and took a careful sip.

`Look,' he continued, `I've told you everything. I have no desire to justify my actions to anyone. I am having enough
difficulty in justifying them to myself. So I would be grateful for no more questions. Instead, I have one or two of my
own,' he added, turning to Kingsley. `What do you intend to do with this information?'

Kingsley looked taken aback for a moment. `I don't know yet, Harry,' he finally replied. `I will need time to digest it
all.' He smiled suddenly. `I'm open to suggestions. I'm pretty new to this game,' he reminded the room.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Harry smiled too. `If I may, Minister?' he asked, stressing the title.
Kingsley nodded, still smiling. `I would like the role of Severus Snape made known to the world. He died a hero and I
cannot begin to contemplate how difficult his task was. People ought to know.'

`Agreed, Harry. He deserves nothing less.'

`Good. I would also be grateful if you could keep reports of my death and link to Voldemort out of the public eye. I
have enough trouble being the “chosen one” without being “the boy who lived twice.”' He saw Kingsley nod his agreement
and hesitated a moment before continuing. `I want a full pardon for the Malfoys as well.'

`WHAT?'

Harry closed his eyes. He had been expecting the outburst and he turned in resignation to his friend.

`Ron, if Narcissa hadn't lied I would really be dead. Voldemort would have finished me off there and then.'

`She only lied to save the skin of her useless son. Have you forgotten what they did? Hermione was tortured in their
house!' he exclaimed angrily. `They've done nothing but terrible things over the years. Do you really think one lie
makes up for that? Do you?'

`Yes, I do as a matter of fact. I know about what about happened at Malfoy Manor; how could I forget?' he asked quietly
and suppressed a shudder as he remembered Hermione's screams. `And I know she only lied to save Draco. But can you think
of a better reason for finally defying Voldemort? Her motives don't matter; at least not to me. What really matters is
the choices one makes, whatever the reason for making them. She chose to help me when it really counted. Dumbledore
always believed that and I reckon he would have given them another chance too. Besides, I reckon Kingsley is going to
have enough trouble rebuilding our world without making even more enemies. Am I right?' he asked, turning to the
Minister.

Kingsley regarded him thoughtfully. `Yes; you're right. We may have won but there remains much to be done. Not everyone
will be glad to see the demise of Voldemort. I fear I will have to tread very carefully at first.'

`So what are you proposing?' asked Arthur. `Are you planning wholesale reforms?'

Kinglsey pursed his lips. `Eventually, Arthur. But first I must consolidate my position.' He sighed. `To be perfectly
honest, I never sought nor expected to ever achieve such a position. I was happy as an Auror.'

`So why did you take the job?' asked Hermione.

Kingsley regarded her for a long moment. `Because there was no one else. At least; no one I would trust. I believe we
have a great opportunity to make changes in our society that will be beneficial for all. I believe we finally have the
chance to remove some of the oldest prejudices in our world and build a society that is worthy of our victory. Albus
always dreamed of a fairer system and worked all of his life to achieve this. I think I can fulfil his dream, but first
I have to rebuild.'

Harry cleared his throat. He saw an opening and decided to exploit it. `What kind of changes? Do you mean improved
rights for non-human creatures? That sort of thing?' He spoke as nonchalantly as he could, almost as if he was
discussing the weather. `Is that the kind of thing you are talking about? Improved rights for House Elves and Giants and
Werewolves and such?' he pointedly did not look at Hermione as he asked this.

Kingsley smiled. `That's exactly the sort of thing I am talking about, Harry. Once I establish my position, one of the
first things I will do is tackle the issue of House Elf abuse. They deserve it after fighting for us against Voldemort.
I will send envoys to the giants too, though I suspect that they will be quite content to remain alone. It will not hurt
to establish diplomatic links with them.'

`And werewolves?' asked Ron and Harry was impressed by how casual he sounded.

Kingsley's face darkened. `I'm afraid we will encounter some opposition in that regard,' he began. `That particular
issue will take a long time to sort out.' He turned to Bill. `I'm sorry about this; I really am. If it were entirely up
to me I would deal with the issue immediately, but I think that the opposition to werewolf reform will be too much to
bear at the present time. The public will not accept any attempt to give werewolves equal status.'

`But that's not fair!' exclaimed Harry. `They deserve better treatment!' He realised he was getting angry and made an
effort to contain himself. `What about Remus? And Bill? They fought Voldemort to the end.'

`I know it isn't fair, Harry. And I know exactly what Remus and Bill contributed. But I need to knit our society
together and it will take time. My position is built on sand at the moment. I am Provisional Minister. If I even attempt
to reform the law on werewolves then I will be out of office before I even begin.' He held up his hand as Harry made to
interrupt. `I understand your frustration, Harry; I really do. But you have to remember that while Remus and Bill fought
against Voldemort, more werewolves fought for him. Greyback led significant numbers into the recent battle and many of
them escaped - we still haven't found Greyback himself. The public - not to mention the Wizengamot - will not even
consider werewolf reform until we deal with those who fought for Voldemort.'

`But they only fought for him because he promised them equality! They have been discriminated against for centuries by
our kind. Can you blame them?'

`I'm well aware of that, Harry. I do not blame them, but others will. You said it yourself. One's motives don't matter.
What really matters is the choices that one makes. They chose to support Voldemort.'

Harry opened his mouth to respond but found that he did not have the words to express himself. He was damned by his own
words. `That's unfair to them, Kingsley. It's not the same.' It sounded lame; even to him.

`Harry, you and I both know it is the same.' He held up his arms, almost as if trying to placate an enemy. `No need to
remind you that I'm on your side, Harry. I agree with you entirely. But we are in the minority; it will take a long time
to resolve this issue. As you say, centuries of prejudice have to be dealt with. I need to walk before I can run. My
priority has to be rebuilding our society. I will have to work with people I would rather not deal with. Rooting out the
bad eggs will take time so I will not be able to tackle such a contentious issue until I establish myself. If I
establish myself.'

Harry felt the frustration threaten to overwhelm him. He had been aiming to offer Hermione some hope that she might not
face the same hostility as Remus if she was fully cursed. Instead, Kingsley had merely confirmed her deepest fears. It
would be years - if ever - before werewolves would be accepted as part of mainstream society. He turned to Hermione, his
eyes apologetic.

She looked straight back at him and their eyes met. Without saying a word, she managed to communicate to Harry that she
was grateful for his effort - that no apology was needed. He could sense her distress; could almost taste her fear as
the implications of Kingsley's assessment finally hit home. He nodded gently to her, sending a message.

I'll be at your side, Hermione. All the way - whatever it takes.

She held his gaze for a few moments longer before nodding in return.

I know, Harry. Thank you.

***********

Hermione remained in her chair as she watched the others file out of the room. The mood - which had already been sombre
as a result of Fred's funeral - was now very contemplative as each person considered what Harry had divulged and
struggled to digest everything that he had done to finally overcome Voldemort. She suspected that there were many more
questions that needed answers but she also knew that everyone present recognised that Harry would not be forthcoming
with any more revelations. He had said everything he intended to say and she knew he would not be budged on the issue.

Kingsley's comments had given everyone food for thought too. Anyone labouring under the misapprehension that everything
would be rosy now that Voldemort was gone was seriously evaluating what the Minister had said. It was clear that
Kingsley faced a lot of opposition to his appointment and that he had a monumental task in front of him as he strove to
knit together the various strands of the magical world. That he would not have carte blanche to act was something she
had always known, but she suspected that this had come as an unpleasant surprise to some of the others.

Not least to Harry.

She smiled as she recalled his none-too-subtle attempts to discuss werewolf rights. Only she, Harry, Ron, Bill and
Minerva knew why he had asked about the subject and she was grateful for his efforts. She was grateful to Ron too for
showing an uncharacteristic display of tact and decorum. It seemed her “two boys” were doing everything they could for
her and while she appreciated the fact, she was aware that there was only so much either of them could do. The tenth day
of the month would ultimately decide her fate.

It was for this reason that she remained in her seat. She waited until the next to last person had reached the door
before calling out to the oldest Weasley son.

`Bill? Do you mind if we have a quick word?'

Bill Weasley smiled at the question and it was clear to Hermione that he had been expecting it. She didn't think she was
so transparent but evidently Bill had noticed her predicament.

`No problem, Hermione,' he finally replied, quietly shutting the door as he did so. `What can I do for you?'

Now that she had him alone, she didn't know where to begin. She took a few moments to gather her thoughts.

`I don't know quite how to put this,' she began. `But I have been feeling a bit…tense recently. Is that normal, do you
think?'

Bill didn't answer immediately. Instead, he poured himself a glass of Firewhisky as he considered how to answer. She
shook her head at his unspoken offer of a drink and watched as he sat down in the chair opposite with a deep sigh.

`You have every right to be tense, Hermione. You have been through a lot this week.'

She considered his statement briefly. `It's not just that,' she began slowly. `If it were just that then I would not be
worried. You see, I'm feeling…irritable? Short-tempered? It's hard to explain but I've found myself being needled by the
least little thing the past few days. I was wondering if it was because…'

`…because it's getting closer to the full moon,' finished Bill, flatly. `It's possible, Hermione. Indeed; it's
probable.' He smiled suddenly and it lit up his face. `I get a bit tetchy too when the full moon draws close. Fleur
calls it my PLT.'

Hermione took a few seconds to work this out. She smiled once she caught on.

`PLT? You mean “pre-lunar tension?'

Bill laughed gently. `Yeah, that's what she calls it. I tell her it's only fair as she gets a bit cranky three days a
month too. Thankfully we are not in sync; Merlin help us if we are both “on” at the same time. She can be temperamental
enough at the best of times…'

Despite herself, Hermione laughed at the absurdity of the situation. `So it's normal to get a bit…edgy as the full moon
draws closer?'

Bill nodded. `Entirely normal. Remus used to suffer from it too. We discussed it when I was first bitten.' He looked
directly into her eyes and offered her a reassuring smile. `The PLT isn't any worse for those fully cursed, if that is
what you are wondering. I felt exactly as Remus did for most of the month and was subject to the same stresses he was.
It was only when the moon was full that our differences became apparent. He would lose all control and I would remain in
command of my faculties. So don't dwell on it; the fact that you are feeling a bit…odd is neither here nor there. It
doesn't tell us if you are fully cursed or not. So don't give up hope.'

Hermione smiled at the words and felt the pressure abate somewhat. She knew that she might still be fully cursed, but
Bill's words of reassurance had convinced her not to fear the worst. At least not yet. She decided to probe further.

`So can you tell me what it's like?' she asked tentatively. `Not actually being a werewolf. I was thinking more about
the prejudice you face.'

Bill seemed to take a moment to consider the question. `I guess I'm just lucky,' he finally replied. `I have a woman who
loves me for being me and doesn't care about my condition; I have a family that doesn't give a toss either and I work
for the Goblins who don't care so long as I keep making them money. It really hasn't affected me too badly. I've
encountered a bit of hostility from some people, but not anyone worth bothering about.' He looked up and saw a flash of
relief on Hermione's face. He decided he would have to break her heart and plunged on. `You have to understand something
though; I'm the exception to the rule. Most werewolves have to deal with appalling discrimination. Remus couldn't get a
job for love nor money and when he finally did get one, he was forced to leave as soon as the truth about his condition
was revealed. Whether you are fully cursed or not, you are going to face a lot of hostility, whatever you decide to do
with your life. If word gets out, that is. What are your plans anyway?'

`No idea,' she replied. `I haven't really thought about it. We had so much to do.' She shrugged. `I thought maybe
working in research; or politics? Maybe even teaching,' she added wistfully. `I really don't know.'

`Well, let me give you some advice; keep this close to your chest. You, Harry and Ron occupy a unique position in our
society for what you did. If anyone could keep this a secret then I reckon you three could. You might need to tell
Kingsley but you can trust him. But keep it under wraps as best you can regardless of how bad the curse is. Not even
Harry will be able to save you from ostracism if word gets out. Prejudices are too deep-rooted. I hate to break this to
you but you need to know what you will be facing.'

Hermione nodded soberly at his words. She'd an idea of just how bad things might get, but Bill's cold assessment of
reality had put paid to any suggestion of convincing the majority that werewolves could be trusted.

`Thanks, Bill,' she finally replied. `I'd rather know the truth than be comforted by lies. I'll find out sooner or later
anyway and I would rather it was sooner. Forewarned is forearmed.'

Bill nodded his understanding. `Just so you know, my door is always open if you ever want advice - even if you just need
to talk.' He smiled suddenly. `It would be even if you weren't going out with my brother.'

She blushed at this remark, not realising that her and Ron's burgeoning relationship was common knowledge. Bill noticed
her reaction and laughed heartily.

`If you are going out with my brother you're going to need all the help you can get,' he added with a mischievous glint.

She regarded him for a moment, slightly shocked by the jest. Then, despite the stress—despite the edginess and the
worry—she threw back her head and laughed heartily.

Things might just be OK after all.

***********

Harry did his best to concentrate on the chess board in front of him. He reached out and groped for his bottle before
putting it to his lips and taking a mouthful of Butterbeer. He was in trouble; Ron was—as usual—completely thrashing him
and Harry saw no way out of his current predicament. His chess pieces were eying him nervously and finally, he let out a
relieved sigh as he accepted the inevitable and gently toppled over his King. He looked up at Ron, a smile on his face.

`Want a rematch?'

Ron tried his best not to look too smug but failed miserably. He cast his eyes up over Harry's shoulder and noticed
something that he should have seen earlier—something Harry should have seen earlier too.

`Nah; I reckon I'll just rest on my laurels for the moment. I'm going to see if I can find Hermione; I've been wondering
where she has got to. I'll be back in a minute,' he added before quickly leaving the room.

Harry was perplexed; it seemed as if Ron couldn't get out of his company quickly enough. What's he up to?

`Harry? Have you got a minute?'

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice, not realising that there was someone else in the room. He turned to the
source and it suddenly dawned on him why Ron had made such a hasty exit. It appeared that his friend had suddenly
developed a sense of discretion.

`Hi, Ginny. Of course I have a minute.'

He watched as she nodded at his words and moved to join him at the kitchen table. He did his best to suppress a small
smile as he realised that Ginny had probably manipulated events so she could have a moment alone with him. While he
wasn't too happy at the prospect he knew that they were long overdue a talk.

`How are you?' she asked and he could tell she was nervous. `Are you feeling better after your…break?'

He felt suddenly guilty; the knowledge that he had not given her a second thought when he'd left Hogwarts after his
argument with Hermione rushed to the front of his mind.

`I'm feeling much better, thanks,' he began. `I'm really sorry I never spoke to you before I left. I should have told
you what I was doing. You deserved that at least.'

`You don't owe me anything, Harry. Not after what you did. I…I just wanted to make sure you were OK.'

He smiled. `Thanks. I'm OK.' He paused for a moment as he decided how best to proceed. He became aware of the sweat that
had formed on the palms of his hands and he had to force himself not to wipe them on his trousers. This is ridiculous! I
defeated Voldemort! Surely I can talk to Ginny!

`I reckon that's not all you wanted to speak to me about?' he asked gently. He forced a smile to try and put her at
ease.

She flushed and looked away. `No it wasn't.' she replied simply. `I don't want to rush you or anything but I was
wondering…wondering if we can pick up from where we left off; if you want to pick up from where we left off.'

Harry considered her words. A year ago, his answer would have been obvious and immediate; he would have said “yes” and
then drawn her into a kiss. Now, after everything that had occurred, he wasn't so sure. He cleared his throat. `You have
been very patient with me, Ginny. More patient than I deserve. I should have spoken to you before now about this. I'm
sorry.'

She waved away his apology. `Don't be silly. You had more important things to deal with.'

`No I didn't. I was being selfish…I should have spoken to you before now,' he repeated, before sighing. He found himself
looking at the chessboard in front of him, wondering why he'd been avoiding this conversation. It's because you do have
more important things to deal with, you idiot! said a voice in his head. He leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers
through his hair, finding it difficult to look at her straight in the eye. All he could think of at that moment was
Hermione and he realised that an image of her had popped into his head as soon as Ginny had said the words “more
important”. It occurred to him that Hermione's problems were more important to him and he found himself wondering what
that meant. His reverie was broken when Ginny spoke again, almost as if from a distance.

`And what would you have said to me?' she asked softly. `What would we have spoken about?'

Harry felt both questions strike him like a blow as he was dragged back into reality and he found himself leaning
forward again, his hands falling to his sides as he once more looked at the chess pieces on the table in front of him.
He found himself considering her words. What the hell would I have said to her?

In the silence that stretched out between them, he finally realised the only honest answer he could give her.

`I don't know.' He finally looked up at her and saw her eyes widen at his words.

`You don't know?'

He shook his head. `Not any more. Six months ago—hell, even a few weeks ago—I'd have been able to answer you. I'd have
told you that I wanted things to be back the way they were last year; that I thought about you all year; that I used to
look at the Marauders Map to see if I could find you—to see if you were OK.' As he recalled the memory, it suddenly
occurred to him that he had only done so as an excuse not to have to face Hermione's tears as she sobbed in her corner
of the tent. He closed his eyes, ashamed at his actions and aware that this was something Ginny did not need to know. It
was also something that made him consider his motives for acting as he did. His train of thought was interrupted as
Ginny finally replied.

`So what changed, Harry,' she asked softly. `What changed in a few weeks to make you “not know” anymore?'

He looked directly at her as he realised the truth. `Everything,' he replied softly. `Everything changed.” He closed his
eyes for a brief moment before continuing. `It's hard to explain. Last year I dared to dream. I dared to dream that we
might actually win and that you and I might have a future. Then the thought came to me a few weeks ago that I wouldn't
come through it. I resigned myself to dying and I was able to reconcile myself to that so long as I took Voldemort with
me. I honestly thought that I wouldn't make it and I forgot all about my future; our future. Now that it's all over, now
that the future is here and I'm still a part of it, I don't know what I want. Can you understand that?'

Ginny nodded soberly. `I think I can, Harry. Do you need more time? I don't mind waiting,' she added, hope in her voice.

`I do,' he replied abruptly. `You deserve more than I can give you, Ginny. A lot more. It's not fair on you to ask you
to wait any longer because I have no idea if I will ever be able to give you what you want. I don't even know what I
want anymore,' he added.

`I'll still be here when you finally do know,' she replied. `I dared to dream too, and you are my dream.'

He shook his head at these words. `Don't, Ginny. I fear that is all it is—all it will ever be; a dream. I don't want to
give you false hope. I don't want any misunderstanding here,' he added.

`Are we breaking up?' she asked, a catch in her voice.

He looked at her with a steady gaze. `I'm sorry, Ginny. It wasn't supposed to be like this,' he replied. `I'm not even
sure if we have anything to break up,' he added in almost a whisper. He hadn't meant to sound so callous but he realised
that he had only voiced his innermost thoughts. He watched quietly as Ginny stood up, her hands balled into fists at her
side.

`I'm not giving up so easily, Harry. I'll still be here when you finally see sense,' she added, defiantly. She turned
away quickly and hastened for the stairs, obviously going to her room.

He picked up the white queen from the chessboard and sighed deeply as he pondered it. So much for not having any
misunderstandings, said the little voice in his head. He knew this still needed to be resolved but he suddenly felt as
if he could sleep for a week. It was as if all the burdens he'd been carrying of late suddenly exacted their price and
sapped him of his strength. He lowered his head.

He didn't know how long he sat examining the chess piece in his hand before a voice finally broke into his thoughts.

`Where's Ginny?'

He looked up and was greeted by a concerned expression on the face of Hermione and a confused look from Ron.

`In her room.'

`Why?' asked Ron. `We sorted it so you could have some time together. You two were supposed to…' he stopped as Hermione
nudged him firmly in the ribs.

`Supposed to what, Ron?' Harry bit back. `Supposed to snog each other senseless? Fall into each other's arms and live
happily ever after?' he snapped. `It doesn't always work out like that.'

`What happened, Harry?' asked Hermione softly.

Harry shrugged. `We broke up, I guess. I don't think Ginny believes me but we broke up.'

`Why?' asked Ron and there was a hint of anger as well as a sense of loss in his tone. Harry looked at him.

`We just did, Ron. I'm not in the mood to explain myself to you right now. I'm going to bed; I'm exhausted. I'll talk to
you tomorrow,' he added as he abruptly stood and pushed between his two friends as he too retreated towards the stairs.

Hermione watched him go, a sense of sadness growing within her. She turned to Ron and noticed him eye Harry's retreating
back, his lips thin. She could tell he wasn't happy about this but it really was none of their business. Finally Ron
turned to face her, forcing a smile.

`They'll be fine. It's been a tough week. They'll sort it out in the morning.'

Hermione smiled her agreement but deep down she knew better.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

6. Moment of Truth

Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around her as she looked out over the Hogwarts Lake. Despite the fact that it had been
a warm, spring day, the night sky was bereft of clouds and as a result, the temperature had fallen abruptly after the
sun had set on the western horizon. She had come here in order to get a few minutes to herself; to enjoy a few final
moments of peace because tomorrow was the day.

She had done her best not to dwell on it but it had proved to be nearly impossible. After Fred's funeral, some normality
had returned to their lives - at least, as close as normal as it was possible to get for them. She and Harry had
initially remained at the Burrow, both having nowhere else to go for the moment, until they had decided to head to
Hogwarts. She knew she still had to decide what to do about her parents but she also knew that she had to deal with the
full moon first. She had to know. She'd felt so lonely; had wanted more than anything else to see and hold her parents
and for the first time in her life she had gained an insight - the merest hint of understanding - into what Harry must
have to deal with all the time. She had nowhere else to go but at least she knew where her parents were. Harry had
nowhere else to go but he'd never had anywhere to go his entire life. It occurred to her that he never spoke about it;
that the closest he'd ever come to opening up about it had been on that bitter night at Godric's Hollow when they had
stood at the graves of his parents. She had felt such an overwhelming sense of sadness as she realised how much she took
things for granted. Harry had no family to speak of; something that she hoped never to have to face herself.

But he does have me! And Ron! And Ginny and all of the other Weasleys! She frowned suddenly as the thought reminded her
of the events back at the Burrow when Harry and Ginny had broken up. As far as Hermione was concerned, Harry deserved
happiness more than anyone else on earth and it saddened her deeply to think that he might no longer have the future
filled with promise that had seemed open to him in the immediate aftermath of destroying Voldemort. Her own future
happiness was in doubt, she knew, but she was also aware that she had Ron and Harry to offer her support if things tuned
out for the worst. She also had her parents; she just had to decide what to do to bring them back into her life.

She sighed and looked up to the night sky. The moon shone brilliantly and she noted dispassionately that it was nearing
its maximum size; that it was over three quarters of the way to being full and that tomorrow it would pass the critical
point. She had been feeling it pull at her for a few days now. Nothing dramatic; just a sense within her, almost like a
pulse beating through her that made her feel distinctly on edge. She knew that she was feeling highly strung at what
faced her anyway and so was having trouble working out exactly how much she was being affected by the lunar cycle.

Maybe it's all in my head?

Her talk with Bill had certainly eased her fears. As usual, she had assumed the worst when first experiencing the
effects of the lunar activity. She smiled; PLT indeed!

She turned at a footfall behind her and smiled despite her solitude being interrupted.

`Hi, Ron,' she said quietly. She had to admit that she had been pleasantly surprised by his behaviour recently. He had
been a rock to her. They had shared a few chaste kisses, both of them nervous as they tried to move their relationship
on from that of two close friends. Two friends who admittedly fought like cat and dog, she mused. But they had not
fought since that moment during the battle when she had finally thrown caution to the wind and had kissed him. They were
facing possible death; she had not wanted to die without resolving the issues between them. And she was glad she had
done so; Ron had displayed a level of maturity and sensitivity that she'd thought beyond him ever since. His actions had
dispelled her fears that they would continue to fight all the time. That was not the sort of relationship she wanted;
she could deal with it in a friendship but not in a romantic relationship and so his change of heart was a source of joy
to her.

`Hiya,' Ron finally replied. `Are you OK? It's freezing out here.'

`I'm fine. I just wanted a few moments alone.'

He seemed quite put out by this, she noticed.

`Do you want me to go?' he asked.

In response, she held out her hand and waited for him to take it. After a moment's hesitation, he did so.

`No; I don't want you to go. Thanks for looking for me. Your company is always welcome.' She paused for a moment as
something occurred to her. `How did you know where to find me?'

She noticed that he looked a bit sheepish at the question. `Ah, well; I didn't actually. It was Harry who suggested that
I would find you here,' he finally replied.

She smiled to herself. He would. He knows me too well. `I'm glad you went looking for me regardless of how you found
me,' she said.

This seemed to mollify him and they stood in companionable silence for a few moments, both looking thoughtfully at the
moon.

`Tomorrow then?' Ron finally asked.

She nodded and tried to keep her tone light. `Tomorrow.'

Ron gripped her hand tighter. `Whatever happens; I want you to know that I will not leave you. You know that, right?'

She smiled. `I know that. And thanks. I don't know what I would do without you. And Harry,' she added.

Ron smiled. `Well; thankfully, you won't ever have to find that out. I won't leave you and I know Harry won't be going
anywhere either. I know too that he'll kick my arse if I let you down. He loves you, you know.'

`He does?' She found her heart giving just a little skip at the words but before she had time to reflect on this, Ron
continued.

`Of course he does! He told me himself. He told me that he loves you like a sister.'

She smiled at these words, grateful for what Ron was trying to do. But then a niggling little voice penetrated her
thoughts. It was her logical voice; the one that always interfered when things didn't add up.

How can he love me like a sister? He doesn't have a sister. How would he know?

`That's really sweet of him. I love him like a brother too,' she finally replied, aware that she had no answer to her
own internal question. She also found herself wondering about the circumstances that would have led to Harry saying
something so personal to Ron. There was a tale to be told there, she knew.

It was just at that moment that she noticed the briefest flash of relief pass across Ron's eyes at her words before he
smiled warmly at her. It was then that the little voice in her head decided to speak again.

And how would you know? You've never had a brother either…

She had no answer to that question and found herself strangely disturbed as she leaned in against Ron and tried to
savour the warmth of his embrace.

***********

Harry leaned back in the armchair that sat in front of the Gryffindor common room fire and sighed. He was dog-tired but
found himself unwilling to go to bed until he discovered that Hermione was all right. When Ron had announced that he had
been looking for her it had only taken him a few moments to work out where she might be. He had casually suggested that
he try the lake for he knew that was a place where Hermione liked to go when she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
He'd surprised himself by voicing his opinion in this matter but had been pleased when Ron had taken his idea at face
value and had immediately set off to find out if he was correct.

He rubbed his face with his hands in an effort to stay awake and turned his attention to his surroundings. It had been a
busy few days. They had all been feeling a little stir-crazy at the Burrow so it was with some relief that they had
received a letter from Minerva requesting help in the rebuilding of Hogwarts. He had been only too happy to comply with
her request and not only because he'd wanted to find some time and space away from Ginny. He'd done his best to act as
normal whenever she was near but this had proved nearly impossible. It was clear that Ginny was in denial and had tried
to bring up their relationship whenever possible despite his protestations, so he'd grasped Minerva's request for aid in
a manner akin to a drowning man grabbing a thrown lifebelt.

Besides; the school had given him so much pleasure in his life that it was the least he could do to contribute to its
repair. When he had finally viewed the damage he had found himself extremely saddened at what he beheld. Minerva had
seemed to sense his mood for she had gently reassured him that they would be able to restore the castle to its former
glory. It was a magical building, she had explained. Sometimes all it took was for the magic to be given a little boost.

So they had been busy these past few days. They had repaired and restored; rebuilt and patched up the damage and he had
been grateful for the work because it allowed him the opportunity to take his mind off things. He was deeply concerned
about Hermione and yet felt impotent as there was nothing he could do to assist. It was a matter of waiting for the full
moon and the knowledge that the experience must be infinitely worse for his best friend only served to darken his mood.
His distress had only been alleviated by the thought that Ron and Hermione seemed to be making progress in their
relationship and that this in turn seemed to make Hermione happier. Her wellbeing was of paramount importance to him and
anything that helped her get through this latest challenge was a blessing as far as he was concerned.

He had to admit to himself that he had sometimes been worried at the prospect of the two of them ever starting a
romantic relationship. He had been afraid that he might become the third wheel in what had always been a close-knit
group but recent events had put those fears to the back of his mind. He closed his eyes as he remembered the moments
immediately after his final meeting with Voldemort. For a few brief moments he'd thought that he might just have a
chance of the ordinary life he had always dreamed of but he now knew that a lot would depend on the outcome of
tomorrow's full moon.

One step at a time.

He looked up at the portrait hole swung open and Ron entered the common room, leading a rather pink cheeked Hermione by
the hand.

`Everything OK?' he asked his eyes on his bushy haired friend.

She smiled at the question. `It is now, Harry. Thanks.'

`Good. Now come over by the fire, you look freezing.' He stood up. `I was just going to bed anyway. I wanted to make
sure you…that you were OK first.'

She smiled again at his concern. `You're such a worry wart sometimes, you know that?' she asked and leaned in and gave
him a soft kiss on the cheek. `I'm fine, Harry. Just a bit worried about tomorrow.'

He nodded his understanding and turned to Ron who was making “go away” signs with his eyes. He smiled at his friend's
rather poor attempt at subtlety. `I do know that. I can't help it. You're worth worrying about. Both of you,' he
replied. `I'll leave you to it then,' he added with a smile and noticed with pleasure that they both blushed at his
comment. `Goodnight then,' he added with a laugh. `Don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

He turned and headed for the stairs before either had time to reply and felt a deep satisfaction at leaving them both
with faces redder than Ron's hair. Despite the seriousness of Hermione's predicament, it wouldn't have felt right to
pass up a chance to needle his friends.

Some things have to stay the same.

***********

Harry looked grim as he turned his attention to Minerva and his expression seemed to convey exactly what he was
thinking. He noticed that the headmistress looked distinctly uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

`It's the best we could do at such short notice, Harry,' she began. `Hopefully we shall have no further use of this room
after tonight.'

Harry softened his expression and turned his attention back to the chamber in front of him. Chamber was the right word,
he mused grimly; this particular room looked like it might have been a place of torture centuries in the past. It was
about thirty foot square, the walls were of grey stone and the whole place was damp and cold. Even if he had not had to
walk down to the dungeons to reach this place, he would have known from the frigid temperature that the room was located
deep in the bowels of the castle. Other than that the room was fairly unremarkable save for two obvious things. The
first were the iron bars that split the room neatly into two halves. It gave one the feeling that one was looking in on
a prison cell and although the bars looked old and worn, when he had given them a good shake on first arriving it had
been evident to him that they were as strong as they needed to be.

The second thing about the room that made it out of the ordinary - the thing that was causing him the most distress -
was the presence of manacles that were chained to the far wall. One barely noticed them when first viewing this room but
once these chains were spotted one could not help but see them to the exclusion of almost everything else. Their
presence reminded an onlooker exactly what this room was for and he felt helpless as his eyes fell on them once again.
He knew that in a few moments he would be chaining his dearest friend in them as if she was a wild animal. He closed his
eyes and tried not to let the despair overwhelm him.

There will be time for tears later. I need to be strong for her right now.

He opened his eyes again as he heard some footfalls in the corridor behind him and he knew with certainty that it would
be Hermione and Ron. He cast another quick glance at Minerva and saw that she was struggling to stop her own tears from
falling despite her stern demeanour. He gave her a nod of encouragement before turning to await the arrival of his
friends.

After a few moments, Hermione and Ron appeared from around the corner, hand in hand. Both looked extremely pale and he
suspected that his own countenance would reflect that of his two friends. He nodded grimly to them both, noticing that
Hermione was clad only in a white robe - almost like a sheet - and he suddenly realised that this was in case the worst
happened. If she did fully transform then there was no point in wasting a perfectly good set of clothes. It seemed such
a trivial thing to be worrying about right now but it really drove home to him what she faced at this moment. Her entire
life was on a precipice and all they could do was hope that she didn't teeter over the edge.

`Are you OK?' he finally asked, breaking a silence that was becoming awkward. He cursed his own lack of subtlety on
asking the question. Of course she's not OK!

She regarded him softly, almost as if reading his thoughts. She turned to a small, barred window placed high in the wall
and as he followed her gaze he saw the final light of the sun as it dipped below the horizon. He turned back to her and
saw that she was watching him.

`I just want to get this over with,' she said. `I just want to know. One way or the other.'

He nodded, understanding fully as he would want to know too if he were in her shoes. `Let's get this done then,' he
replied, his voice grim.

He glanced to his left as more footsteps could be heard and he was surprised when Poppy Pomfrey rounded the corner. He
knew he shouldn't have been surprised; that Poppy would obviously want to monitor the health of one of her students and
also offer moral support to a friend. After all - save Bill Weasley, who would be dealing with the full moon himself
tonight - those present were currently the only people alive who knew of Hermione's predicament. It was only right that
they should all be here for her.

His attention was diverted as Hermione moved from her position and finally entered the chamber. He was struck by the
composure she was displaying even though he knew that she was terrified. He did not know what to do at that moment and
was caught off guard when she turned to face Ron and himself.

`Would…would you two mind if I asked you to…to chain me up?' she asked tentatively. `It won't feel so bad if you do it;
I know that you two are always looking out for me.'

Harry was dumbstruck by the request and it took him a few moments to recover his composure enough to reply.

`Of course. Anything I - that is - we can do to help.'

With these words he entered the chamber and stood beside her, taking one of her hands in his own and gripping Ron's with
the other so that the three of them were linked in a circle.

`Whatever happens, we will always be here for you,' he said and his voice was thick with emotion. She didn't reply;
instead she merely nodded her gratitude before releasing her grip on them and stepping up with her back against the wall
and holding out her arms. She turned and leaned her head back against the cold stones and closed her eyes, waiting for
them to act. Harry shared a look with Ron and realised that his other best friend was suffering too. They locked eyes
for a few moments, communicating in silence before nodding resolutely at one another and making their way towards
Hermione. In grim silence they began to shackle her to the wall.

Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest as he gathered the chains in his arms. He saw that Hermione had opened her
eyes; that she was trying to be brave and he saw too that Ron looked as if he was going to be sick as he placed her slim
wrist in one of the manacles. The distress of his two friends matched his own and he suddenly decided to take a chance
as he crouched down and gently placed her leg in the metal clasp attached to one of the chains.

`You know,' he began, his voice as nonchalant as he could make it, `you know that in just about any other circumstances,
I would probably enjoy chaining up an attractive girl to a wall. It opens up a number of possibilities.'

He looked up from his crouched position and saw the astonished expressions on the faces of his two friends who were both
looking at him with open mouths. He heard a gasp of surprise from Minerva and closed his eyes.

Oh, Shit! I've gone too far! Oh, shit!

He opened his mouth to apologise when he was suddenly surprised to see Ron's face split into a huge grin. His red-haired
friend shared a glance with Hermione and Harry's heart swelled when he saw a tremulous smile appear on her face too.
Finally the smile broadened and she began to laugh, Ron joining in too.

`Watch it, Potter,' said Ron in mock seriousness. `That's my girl you are talking about.' His grin broadened and he made
a big deal of examining the chains. `Now that you mention it though, these chains do open up a number of possibilities…'
he added mischievously.

`Ron Weasley!' exclaimed Hermione. `If I weren't chained to a wall right now you would be for it!' her tone was severe
but her smile and - above all - her eyes told them both that she was amused. Harry found himself glad that he had made
the joke now; glad that he had given them something to laugh about, even in such dire circumstances. His own smile
broadened as he returned his attention to the job at hand.

When he had finished with her leg he quickly shackled her arm and saw that Ron had finished his task too. The three of
them shared a look, none of them knowing what to say now. Involuntary, he turned his gaze to the window and saw that the
daylight had all but gone. There was no time left. He turned back to Hermione as she started to speak.

`Thank you,' she whispered. `Both of you.' She took a deep breath before continuing. `Now, if you don't mind, I'd rather
you weren't here to witness this if…if the worst happens. Can you do that for me?'

Harry had been expecting this because he knew that if the roles were reversed, he would not want his friends to see him
transform. He nodded soberly. `Of course we don't mind,' he replied quietly. He leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss
on the cheek, gripping her shoulder as he did so. `I'm here, no matter what,' he said and was rewarded with a smile. He
turned to Ron and gave him a nod. `I'll leave you two alone for a minute.' He turned back to Hermione. `I'll see you in
the morning,' he added, his voice starting to crack. He turned away quickly, lest she finally witness him break down and
made his way out of the room without a backwards glance. He felt physically sick and he crashed down on to a nearby
chair, his head in his hands. He did not look up until a few minutes had passed and he heard Ron's footsteps as he too
left the chamber, closing the thick wooden door behind him with a loud slam and locking it with a large brass key.

The two friends shared a grim look before turning their attention to the window. The moon would be out soon.

All we can do now is wait.

***********

Hermione fought the feeling of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her as Ron finally left the room and closed the door
behind him with a loud slam. The noise echoed throughout the room, reverberating and putting her in mind of a tombstone
being slammed into place over a crypt. She heard the key turn in the lock and shuddered at the dark thoughts, realising
that she had to stay focussed lest the panic take over. She turned her head to the right and wriggled her fingers in the
manacles, satisfying herself that her friends had done a sufficient job in ensuring she had no chance of escape. She was
cold and distressed and she knew that it could not have been easy for Ron and Harry to shackle her in this way but she'd
needed it to be them that had done this for her. She needed to know that those that chained her were doing so out of
love and not fear.

She thought back to the moment when Ron and Harry had chained her to the wall. She'd felt physically sick, both at her
predicament and for having placed such a burden on her two dearest friends.

And then Harry had cracked the line about chaining up an attractive girl.

She had been shocked at first. Astonished in fact; the comment was out of character for her friend. She'd not known what
to think but then Ron had smiled and she too had seen the funny side. It was not that what he had said was particularly
funny - there was nothing remotely amusing about her current predicament. Rather, it was because she appreciated what he
was trying to do. He was trying to alleviate her distress and also letting her know that this wasn't the end of the
world.

It just feels like it.

She turned her attention to the small, barred window in the high corner of the room and saw the first glimmer of light
begin to permeate through the bars.

Not long now. Minutes; seconds, even, and I will know.

She closed her eyes and waited, feeling the pull of the lunar cycle but she took some consolation from the fact that she
was not feeling anything extra; not experiencing anything that was different from previous nights. This gave her some
cause for hope.

She breathed deeply and steadily as she waited, her impatience beginning to get the better of her. What was particularly
daunting about her predicament was that she had no frame of reference; she had no idea what to expect and she suspected
that she would not know how much she had been affected until it was too late. She hung her head and willed the time to
pass.

Such was her concentration on her breathing that she almost missed it at first. She opened her eyes in response to a
sudden…surge within her but just as she was trying to decide what it was it had passed. She could almost believe that
she had imagined it.

OK; don't panic. Bill said he still feels the pull at this time of the month. It doesn't mean anything - whatever it
was…There! There it is again! What is that? Oh, God; help me; what is that?

She lurched suddenly, her body splayed forward and pressing against the tension of the chains, the white robe taut
against her skin. Her head turned up to the ceiling, her back arched as she strained against her bonds. She felt a brief
moment of agony before it passed and she slumped back against the wall, breathing hard. She waited for something else to
happen but it seemed that whatever was going on was finally over.

Maybe it's going to be OK. Maybe I'm not…

The scream that she let out at that moment was one that echoed throughout the dank, dark dungeons. It echoed beyond the
bars and walls of her cell and reverberated down the corridor, past the horrified group who waited for news. She splayed
herself forward again, unable to control her own movements as pain coursed throughout her body; a pain that was more
than anything she had experienced in her entire life. As she fought to remain silent it briefly occurred to her that not
even the torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange came close to the agony she was now enduring.

Oh, God, what is happening to me? Help me, please?

She felt a surge through her veins once again; an agonising pull that dominated everything else and blocked out all
reason and rationality. She screamed again and some distant part of her mind realised that her cries of anguish now
sounded more like a howl. She felt herself baring her teeth and clenching her fingers as she strained against the
shackles that tethered her to the wall. She experienced a sudden, great terror that eclipsed the agony as she realised
what was happening; accepted that her worst fears were coming true.

Oh, Mum! Dad! I need you…Ron! Harry…Harry…

This was her last conscious thought as, with another surge of agonising pain, she finally lost control of her reason and
the beast took control.

For the moment, Hermione Granger had ceased to exist.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

7. Darkness at Dawn

The following morning brought yet another glorious sunrise to Hogwarts. As Harry proceeded along the corridor to the
hospital wing, he could not help but notice the dawn of what promised to be a beautiful day. Not a cloud could be seen
in the sky and as the sunlight cascaded in through the east windows his attention was diverted by the golden beams as
they cast a yellow hue over the rubble and the destruction that was evident throughout Hogwarts at the moment. He could
clearly see the dust as it drifted aimlessly around him and as he and Ron passed from the shadows between each window he
could feel the warmth of the rays on his face. It was a beautiful late spring morning and the world was at peace.

But the world was also mocking him, he decided. It had no right to look so beautiful on such a day.

If the weather were to accurately reflect his current mood then Hogwarts would be swamped by a raging tempest. He walked
in silence next to his friend but inside him a storm had brewed. He had not slept - how could one sleep at such a time -
and he still wore the clothes from the previous day. His hair was even more dishevelled than normal and when he glanced
at Ron he saw that his friend was in the same condition. Despite the fine weather, both men looked as if they had been
battling the elements.

He clenched his fists by his side as he walked, the anger threatening to erupt at any moment. The problem he faced was
that he had no one to rage against - no target for his frustration and despair.

Minerva had come close, though.

Once it had become apparent that the worst had happened, Minerva had insisted that Harry and Ron depart for the night.
In the face of their furious protestations, she had quietly explained that she and Poppy were the best people to deal
with Hermione in the morning because they were more removed from the situation than either himself or Ron. She had
spoken in a clipped tone, but he had recognised her distress and knew that she was not that removed from the situation
herself - that Hermione meant a great deal to her too. It was then that Minerva had played her trump card.

`It must be left up to Hermione to decide when she wants to face the two of you. When she changes back she may not be in
a…respectable state and so you cannot be present. Poppy and I will see to her, do not worry. I will let you know as soon
as you are able to see her. You can't do anything for her right now but she will need you both tomorrow.'

He had wanted to argue, to shout and to scream but this was not the fault of Minerva McGonagall. He had seen the sense
in her words and the compassion in her eyes and so had reluctantly acquiesced to her plea. In silence, he and Ron had
slowly made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

He closed his eyes as he remembered. Ron had sensed - and shared - his mood and had vacated their room, leaving him
alone with his thoughts. Ron had obviously wanted to be alone too. So he had sat on his bed gazing out of the window,
raging impotently at the fate that had cursed the life of his dearest friend.

And he had raged.

He did not know how long had passed before he had lost control. He had screamed obscenities into the night. Had cursed
the fates; cursed all gods; cursed everything and everyone - not least himself. After everything they had endured to
finally defeat Voldemort, fate had played one last, cruel trick on them all. He had turned away from the window and had
vented his rage on the room. Nothing had been left untouched. He had not used his wand; instead he had used his bare
hands and his feet to wreak a trail of destruction in his sleeping quarters. He had overturned tables, smashed objects
against the wall, kicked over anything that wasn't nailed down, before finally crumbling to a heap on the floor. He had
known that despite everything he had endured in his short life, this latest horror was the worst - this one could break
him.

He had finally stopped feeling sorry for himself shortly before dawn. Emotionally spent, he had finally realised that he
did not have the luxury of self-pity - that his anger was selfish and futile. So he had roused himself and had made his
way downstairs to the common room where he had found Ron sitting alone in an armchair in front of the fire. He too had
been surrounded by destruction and it was obvious that he too had spent the night raging against the fates. The two men
had exchanged their first words since hearing Hermione's screams.

`Doesn't help, does it?' his red-haired friend had asked, without looking up.

He had shaken his head solemnly. `Not really. But I suppose it gets some of it out of our system.' He had glanced around
the room. `Hermione will kill us when she sees what we have done to this place though.'

The two of them had finally shared a rueful smile at the thought of Hermione's reaction to the destruction wreaked on
her beloved common room. Both were aware that they would repair the damage before she did see it but that didn't detract
from the brief moment of grim amusement both of them felt.

`You didn't damage any books, did you?' Ron had asked with a smile.

`I wouldn't dare.'

`We'll be fine then. She'd skin us alive if we had. She'll understand the rest.'

Now as they neared the hospital wing, Harry felt a deep gratitude that he had such a friend as Ron. He didn't feel quite
so alone and realised that he had been selfish; that Ron too would be feeling exactly as he did - probably worse.
Hermione was his girlfriend and he knew that Ron faced a burden greater than his own.

He looked up as he spotted Minerva outside the door of the hospital wing almost as if she was standing guard. When she
spotted the two of them she quickly made her way towards them, a look of concern on her face. Harry felt his heart
beating in his chest and tasted the metallic tang of fear in his mouth as he awaited the news.

`She doesn't want to see you. Either of you,' said Minerva, without preamble. Her voice was stern but he could see the
lie of this façade in her eyes. She was feeling this as much as anyone.

`She doesn't want to see us?' repeated Ron incredulity in his voice.

The headmistress turned to him. `She says she just wants to be left alone to deal with things. I think she is feeling
ashamed. Which is understandable, if a little foolish' she added hastily. `We must respect her wishes in this matter,
however. Perhaps it is for the best if we leave her for now?'

Harry narrowed his eyes dangerously. `You don't believe that for a minute, do you?' When he received no reply he
continued. `She is hardly in the best position to decide what is best for her, is she?' he asked, pointing at the door
to the infirmary. `If we let her mope then she could do herself some damage. She needs her friends right now.'

`You forget yourself, Mr Potter,' replied Minerva. `It is up to her to decide whether or not to see you. As acting
headmistress of this school I cannot allow you to interfere with the well being of one of my students.' The tone of her
voice was fooling no one.

“Mr Potter,” is it? he thought to himself. That usually means trouble. But not this time; there's too much at stake.

`No, Minerva. You are forgetting yourself. Neither I nor Ron nor Hermione are students at this school any longer. We
left at the end of sixth year.' He was speaking softly. He had too much respect and affection for this woman to take his
anger out on her. `You know - you know - that she needs us right now despite what she says to the contrary. I appreciate
what you are trying to do for her - she's lucky to have you - but Ron and I are going in there right now to see her. You
know this is the right thing to do. Please do not try to stop us. Please do not make this more difficult than it already
is.'

For a few moments that seemed like an eternity to Harry, Minerva stood and regarded him, her lips thin. She seemed to be
having an internal dispute and Harry waited patiently as his teacher and friend came to a resolution. Finally she
nodded.

`Just be careful, Harry; you too, Ron. She's rather…fragile at the moment.'

Harry reached out and touched her arm. `We know,' he whispered. `And thanks. You won't regret this.'

`See that I don't, Mr Potter. See that I don't,' she repeated before turning and heading away down the corridor. Harry
and Ron shared a look.

`Ready?'

Ron nodded. `As I'll ever be.'

***********

Hermione Granger lay in her hospital bed crying quietly. She was screened on all sides by the curtain that Poppy had
thoughtfully pulled closed around her after making sure she was settled and comfortable. She could not face the world
right now and she fervently wished she could live the rest of her life behind a screen.

I'm a monster. A beast!

She recalled only too well the pain - the overwhelming agony - that she had endured during her transformation. Not even
Bella's torture could hold a candle to the agony she had experienced and she wondered mutely how it was that Remus had
never uttered a word about the physical trauma of transformation. Every single book she had read on the subject had
failed to prepare her for the experience and for once in her life she felt as if books had let her down. It was akin to
being betrayed by a friend.

Her memories after she had transformed were vague and she did not want to go down that route right now. She'd had a
tenuous awareness but she had not been in control. That was something that terrified her and something she did not want
to deal with at the moment. She closed her eyes.

Right now I don't want to deal with anything.

`Hermione? Are you awake, Hermione?'

That was Ron's voice. What the hell is he doing here? I specifically told Minerva I didn't want to see anyone!

`Hermione?' Ron asked again.

`Go away,' she finally replied. `Just…go away, Ron.'

`We need to talk, Hermione. Can I come in?' he asked tentatively.

Is he stupid? Or deaf?

`I said go away, Ron! Can you not understand plain English? I don't want to see anyone. Now go away!' she almost
shrieked the last three words.

`No,' came the reply and it wasn't Ron. She'd recognise Harry's voice anywhere and she made to berate him too when the
curtain was suddenly whipped back with a speed that terrified her. She glanced up briefly and saw Harry standing at the
foot of her bed, his eyes blazing. Ron stood just behind his right shoulder, a more contrite look on his face. She
turned away from them both.

`Go away,' she mumbled into her pillow, her tears falling anew.

There was no reply to her demand. Instead, she heard only footsteps and for one fleeting moment she thought they had
finally obeyed her until she felt someone sit down on the bed behind her. A hand began to gently stroke her hair and she
assumed it was Ron. She made to retort angrily when the person beside her began to speak.

`Do you honestly think we would leave you now, Hermione?' said Harry softly.

She found herself unable to reply such was her feelings at that moment. Anger, shame and sorrow fought within her but
Harry's simple question caused a feeling of such relief and gratitude to overwhelm her that for once she found herself
unable to muster a response. She said nothing and turned away from him even further.

`Go away,' she repeated but her voice sounded hollow even to her ears. `I'm a monster,' she added, this time with more
conviction.

`Don't be ridiculous, Hermione,' replied Harry and she could detect a touch of reproof in his voice. `What you…became
last night is not you. It's not the person in front of me right now and not the person who is my friend.' He sighed and
shifted slightly and she could sense his movements; she instinctively knew he was looking at the ceiling and probably
rolling his eyes as he tried to work out what to say next. Despite herself, a small smile cracked on to her face and she
became aware that he had not stopped stroking her hair.

`I'm going to speak plainly to you, Hermione, and I make no apologies for doing so,' Harry finally continued. `This does
not affect how Ron and I feel about you. You are still you, regardless of the change. I want you to know that. I need
you to know that. Now you may think that what you are doing is for the best. You probably think you are protecting us in
some way - it's what you have always done for us. You probably think that by cutting us out you are making things better
for us. But that's not your decision to make. It's mine and it's Ron's and both of us know that things could never be
better for us unless you were part of our lives too. I don't think I need to add anything, really.' He paused for a
moment. `I'm going to go now. I'm going to give you and Ron some time to yourselves but before I go I want you to know
that I don't care what your thoughts on this are. You're not cutting me out. I won't allow it. So you can ignore me for
now but we both know you can't ignore me forever. Whether it takes an hour or a year for you to see sense, I'll still be
here when you finally decide to speak to me. I don't care about what you were last night. I do care about the girl in
front of me right now, though. So you just let me know when you have finished being silly, OK?'

With these final words, she felt the removal of his hand and the shift of weight on the bed as he stood to leave. She
closed her eyes for a moment, cursing herself. She finally turned.

`Harry?' she called to his retreating back.

He paused and slowly turned to face her and she could detect a hint of amusement in his eyes. She found herself unsure
of what to say now that she had his attention.

`Thank you,' she finally managed in a small voice.

She watched as his face lit up into a broad smile.

`Don't mention it,' he replied before turning and heading out of the door.

Hermione blinked back some more tears and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before finally turning her attention
to Ron. She managed a tremulous smile.

`How are you?' she asked in a too bright voice.

Ron didn't reply. Instead, he moved swiftly to the bed and took his girlfriend in his arms as she finally let herself go
and sobbed her heart out.

************

Ten minutes later, Hermione sat crossed legged on her bed and gazed out of the window. She had finally cried herself out
in Ron's arms and now she sat in thoughtful silence as Ron fussed around her like a mother hen. She smiled to herself as
she considered the question Ron had just asked her. While she would be the first to admit that he had actually managed
to surprise her with the sensitivity and compassion he had displayed thus far, she also knew that he was still capable
of moments of crassness. His latest question had been one such moment.

What was it like?

How did one even begin to answer such a question? How could one who had undergone such a trauma possibly describe the
experience to someone who had not?

How can a werewolf describe what it feels like to a non-werewolf? It can't be done.

Her recollections were vague but she realised that what she remembered most was the smell - or rather; the smells. She
actually remembered seeing smells and it was disconcerting to realise that some of the things she had taken as absolute
no longer applied. Although she had been locked in her cell behind thick stone walls and a stout wooden door, she had
been able to sense the people in the corridor outside. Although the beast had been in control she had even been able to
determine who was sitting where merely through each individual scent and the truly astonishing thing was that she had
been able to partially determine the emotional state of each person. Anxiety, despair, worry - it had all been there and
she had recognised each for what they were. And fear. Above all, there had been the fear.

But how did one describe this? How could one possibly explain how each individual scent seemed to create a different
colour in her mind; how each of her friends cast a different hue? A signature as distinct as one's Patronus? One
couldn't describe it, she realised. It was like discovering an eighth colour of the spectrum and trying to describe it
to people who could only see seven. The words just did not exist.

Even now she could sense Ron's discomfort. While she knew enough about him to recognise his mood through visual clues,
she could tell that he was nervous and worried that he had upset her with his question even though she wasn't looking at
him. It was subtle but it was there nonetheless. All her senses were heightened but particularly her sense of smell. If
she closed her eyes and concentrated hard enough, she could smell the flowers outside in the castle grounds; the food
being prepared in the kitchens. She could even smell into the past. The scent of Poppy, Minerva and Harry were still
very much in evidence even though each of them had long left the room.

No wonder Remus never spoke of this. He couldn't possibly explain what it was like.

And then there was the transformation itself. She closed her eyes and suppressed a shudder. Her last full human memory
was of looking on in horror at the claws growing on her hands. And of course, there had been the pain. A pain like
nothing she had ever experienced as her body had been torn apart by the magical forces at work. Muscles had been
stretched to breaking point; tendons and sinews elongated beyond their capacity. Nothing had been left unchanged and the
process was agonising.

And I need to go through it again tonight. And the next night. And for three nights a month every month for the rest of
my life.

`It was horrible,' she finally managed to reply. She turned as she realised that Ron had stopped fussing over the
various oddments on the bedside cabinet. `It was horrible,' she repeated. `It's too difficult to explain, Ron. I
feel…different. I can't put it any better than that. The world is a different place to me now.'

Ron nodded his understanding. `And you can't explain how?'

`Not to a non-werewolf,' she confirmed.

`Can't you even give me a hint? I hate to ask but I thought…I thought that if I could understand - even a little - then
I might be able to help.'

Hermione paused before replying. `I appreciate that, Ron; I really do. But you can't possibly understand how I can smell
everything. You can't understand how I know you are nervous right now. You can't understand how I know that someone has
burnt toast in the kitchen this morning and you can't understand how I also know that Professor McGonagall will walk
into this room in about ten seconds,' she added with a nod to the doors. `I don't understand it myself,' she added
softly.

Ron looked agog for a few moments before turning his attention to the door. After a silence that seemed to last forever,
the double doors finally swung open and Minerva McGonagall strode into the room, a determined look on her face. She
glanced up to be met by a look of astonishment on the visage of Ron Weasley.

`What?' the Headmistress asked, her curiosity evident.

But no reply was forthcoming. Instead she watched as Ron turned to Hermione, a questioning look on his face. For her
part, Hermione just shrugged and turned once again to look out of the window.

Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

8. Hope

Harry Potter sat in an armchair in front of the empty fireplace in the Gryffindor common room and idly flicked through
one of Ron's old Quidditch magazines. His mind was not on the article in front of him. Since leaving Ron and Hermione
alone in the hospital wing he had been at a loss for something to do to distract him from the events of last night. He
was reluctant to face the horrible truth of Hermione's condition and while the rational part of his mind knew that he
would have to deal with it sooner or later, the emotional side of him was quite happy to make sure that the operative
word was “later.”

It had been a few hours since he had left his friends. At first, he had taken his broomstick down to the Quidditch pitch
and had tried to lose himself in the joy of flying but for once the feeling of exhilaration that he normally experienced
when in the air eluded him and he did not enjoy the cathartic effect he had been seeking. After a while he had finally
called a halt to what was fast becoming a futile exercise and had made his way to the common room.

Where he was still feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Sighing, he tossed the magazine aside and stood to leave but just as he was heading for the portal he heard a tapping on
the window. Turning, he noticed a familiar little owl that almost seemed to be jumping up and down such was its
eagerness to deliver the message attached to its leg.

Pig.

That probably meant a letter from Ginny, he realised and he hesitated for a moment before heading over to the window to
allow the little owl access. On entering the room, Pig proudly offered the message and scooted off towards a bowl of
water in the corner as soon as Harry had retrieved the missive. With a feeling of resignation, he sat once again in the
same armchair, unrolled the parchment and began to read.

Hi, Harry,

I hope you don't mind me writing to you when you are busy with McGonagall but I could not wait until your return to the
Burrow to tell you what I think you need to hear. I am missing you, Harry. I choose not to believe that everything is
over between us - I understand that you have been under enormous pressure lately and that your behaviour reflects this.
I believe we are meant to be together and that things will be ok if we just give it some time and talk to each other.
I'm here for you if you need me for anything.

On another note, can't you tell me what you are doing? I think McGonagall is taking a liberty by having you return to
Hogwarts so soon after the battle. I know you said that she had insisted on secrecy but I am really curious. I was
hoping that after all of the secrets of the past few years, you might have been more inclined to share things with me. I
don't say this to reprove; I say it merely to let you know that I am here for you and that you don't have to bear your
burdens alone anymore. I know that Ron and Hermione have always been there for you but now that they have finally woken
up and done what they should have done a long time ago, I was hoping that you might let me be the one to share things
with. I hope you understand that - understand that I only want to be the one you feel you can turn to now that Ron and
Hermione have each other.

Anyway; I didn't write to you to lecture or reprimand. I just wanted you to know that I am missing you and that I am
thinking of you.

Take care

Love

Ginny

Harry took his time reading the letter and once he had finished he re-read it. He felt his mouth turn down into a
grimace as he read her parting words again.

Love.

He knew that he had not been fair to her and that she would be feeling like a prisoner in the Burrow right now. The
Weasleys would still be dealing with the loss of Fred and he imagined that the atmosphere in the cottage must be
difficult to endure. When he had left, he had told her that McGonagall wanted to speak to the three of them about a
sensitive matter and that he could not divulge this to her.

But despite feeling sorry for her, he also knew that Ginny was deluding herself. With each day that passed he was more
and more convinced that ending things with her was the right thing to do. Not easy, but right.

He understood her disappointment but he knew he had to leave no room for ambiguity. He also knew that he could not tell
her what was going on or the real reason he was at Hogwarts. First, this secret was not his to tell - it was Hermione's
if and when she was ready. And second, he had a strange feeling that Ginny could not be entirely trusted with the
information. It wasn't that he thought her anti-werewolf or anything; just that he didn't think she was always entirely
discreet.

With a sigh, he rose and found some parchment, ink and a quill on a table and sat down again, this time on the sofa,
before formulating his thoughts and beginning to write.

Hi, Ginny,

Of course I don't mind you writing to me - it is always nice to hear from a friend. But I need to repeat what I said to
you at the Burrow; we are no longer an item - we are just friends (I hope). I can only say again how sorry I am for
hurting you as this was never my intention, but I think I would hurt you more in the long-run if I was to be anything
other than totally honest with you now.

I don't believe we are meant to be together. I'm sorry.

As to your other question; what we are doing at the minute is not for me to tell. I suspect that you will find out what
is going on sooner or later but the decision is not mine to make. When you do find out you will understand, I hope.

Take care

Your friend

Harry

He placed his quill down thoughtfully. He had hesitated before writing the final sentiment but decided that he was not
writing anything inappropriate or untrue. Content with his choice of words, he rolled up the letter and made his way
over to Pig.

`Feel up to another journey?' he asked the little owl. Sirius' owl, he remembered sadly.

In response, Pig hooted softly and held out a leg for him to attach the letter. Once this was done he carried the little
bird to the window before gently realising him. When he turned, he was surprised to see he was not alone in the room.

`Sending letters home?' asked Hermione with a wry smile.

He smiled in response. `Yeah; I'm just replying to Ginny. She says she's missing me - us,' he added hastily. He saw the
concern on her face and hesitated before continuing. `She's also asking what we are up to.'

He cursed himself as her expression darkened. `I'm sorr-`

`Don't apologise, Harry. This isn't your fault,' she interrupted. Sighing she sat down on the leather sofa beside her
and patted the seat next to her as an invitation for him to join her. When he was seated they sat in silence for a few
moments before she spoke again.

`I know I will have to tell people sooner or later but I want to do it on my terms. I think that I need to do it face to
face. Can you understand that?'

`Totally. I already told Ginny that it was not my tale to tell.'

She smiled her gratitude at his remark. `Thanks. I had to take a while to explain this to Ron but he finally got the
message.'

`Where is Ron?' Harry asked, finally realising his friend was absent.

`In the kitchens. Where else?' she replied with a smile. Harry smiled too.

`How are you?' he asked softly. `I'm worried about you.'

`I know you are. I can feel it,' she replied, placing her hand on her chest as she did so and he was startled by this
piece of news.

`You can feel it? How? In what way?' he blurted and immediately regretted the question. `You don't have to answer that.
Sorry. I shouldn't have asked that,' he added contritely.

She smiled at his awkwardness. `Don't worry about it. It's hard for me to explain. My senses are just…heightened if you
know what I mean? I just have a greater awareness of my surroundings. My hearing and particularly my sense of smell seem
to be more developed. I can use them to see things that my eyes don't pick up.'

Her voice had cracked slightly at saying this and Harry realised that she was trying to put on a brave face for his
benefit. `You never answered my first question,' he said softly.

`What question?'

`How are you?'

She took a moment to reply to this. `Coping,' she finally managed to say. `Just about coping.'

He didn't reply; instead he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest in a tight embrace. For a long
time neither of them spoke; he content to hold his friend, she content to take refuge in his arms. He found himself
enjoying the sensation and was surprised when she suddenly pulled out of his grip.

`I'm sorry,' he blurted, feeling as if he had somehow done wrong. `I was ju-`

`It's OK, Harry. It's not you,' she interrupted and nodded towards the portal. He turned, confused as his eyes fell upon
absolutely nothing at all. He made to turn back to ask her what was going on when suddenly the door to the portrait hole
swung open and Professor McGonagall strode into the room.

Now he did turn to face his friend, the astonishment plain on his face. He realised immediately that she must have
sensed Minerva's approach and he saw too that she looked uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He suddenly understood that
she mistook his surprise for horror. He smiled his reassurance.

`That's a really useful talent you have there,' he said softly and noticed her surprise at his comment. `Just think of
the pranks we can get up to if you are keeping watch,' he added and his heart filled as he watched her consider his
words and slowly smile at his acceptance of her strange new “gift.” He gave her hand a soft squeeze.

`Things are going to be OK,' he added softly before turning his attention to Minerva. As a result, he did not see the
sudden flush of pleasure that crossed the face of his dearest friend.

***********

Minerva McGonagall was worried. As she approached the portrait of the Fat Lady her mind was churning with everything
that had occurred in the previous few days. She had barely had time to come to terms with the defeat of Lord Voldemort
when she had been ambushed by the affliction that had struck poor Hermione and she was struggling to deal with it all.
The past month had been eventful to say the least. The battle and immediate aftermath had been overwhelming as had the
realisation that so many friends and students had perished in that last, desperate struggle. Her new role of head
teacher was proving to be more demanding than she though possible and she was aware that a few cracks had begun to
appear in her normally stern façade. The ordeal that Hermione now faced was just one more calamity that had to be dealt
with and at the present moment she felt like she was trying to put out a fire with a teaspoon of water. No matter what
she did, everything seemed to be going wrong.

This latest setback was proving especially hard to deal with. For all that she liked to act aloof and stern, she knew
that underneath she was really quite a sentimental person and she believed that a large part of this was due to the
Celtic blood in her veins. Witch though she was, she was still a proud Scot and could still laugh and cry with the best
of them. This was why she was having so much trouble at the moment.

Had anyone ever asked her, she would have emphatically denied ever having favourites among those whom she had taught
over the years. Her stern and aloof demeanour was enough to convince anyone that she had no room in her heart for such
sentiment.

Convince anyone except me, she thought.

Harry Potter would have been a favourite even if he had not been the fine young man that he was. Any son of James Potter
and Lily Evans would always hold a place in her affections simply because those two were among the most cherished people
she had known in her long life. Her heart had wept at the ordeals that Harry had endured and she had always kept an eye
out for him even on those occasions when she had to reprimand him. Harry Potter was definitely one of her favourites.

But Hermione Granger was her favourite. Ever. She had recognised a lot of herself in the young Muggle-born witch and had
liked the girl right from the start. Independent, intelligent, determined, fiercely loyal and honest. Hermione Granger
was quite simply one of the most decent people she had ever encountered. It did not occur to her that these feelings
were reciprocated. That Hermione Granger felt exactly the same way about Minerva McGonagall and for the same reasons but
then, modesty was a quality that both shared too.

So when she had discovered the extent of Hermione's curse, she had come closer to breaking than at any point in her
life. Not the rise of Voldemort - not even the death of Albus - had shaken her as much as this latest catastrophe. So
she had resolved to do everything in her power to help and it was with this in mind that she approached the portrait of
the Fat Lady.

`Victory,' she said curtly and as the portrait swung open she entered the passageway without breaking stride. On
reaching the common room she found herself smiling as she saw that the two students most in her thoughts were sharing a
moment of privacy. Harry had a look of astonishment on his face and she saw him turn to Hermione and share a few
whispered words. She was especially pleased to see him give her hand a soft squeeze and the smile that this elicited
from Hermione. She found that she had to compose herself before speaking.

It's at times like this one discovers who one's true friends are.

`Good afternoon to you both. I was hoping to find you here - especially you Miss Granger,' she said, her voice clipped.
It was taking all of her willpower to retain the façade.

`Hello, Professor,' replied Hermione. `What is it you need to see me for?'

Minerva sat down across from her two students before continuing. `I have managed to track down Severus' notes on how to
brew the Wolfsbane Potion,' she replied. `While the recipe is generally available to read, the potion is one of the most
complicated to brew; so complicated that not many are willing to try. These notes are invaluable. Severus was perhaps
the greatest Potion master of our age.'

The reaction to her words was predictable. Both teenagers sat up straighter, wide eyed.

`How?'

`Where?'

Minerva smiled. `One at a time. One at a time,' she replied. She leaned back slightly in her chair. `I remembered that
Severus used to keep a stock of the potion,' she explained. So I had a good trawl through his old dungeon and managed to
find his notes at the bottom of a chest of drawers. Severus had probably brewed it so often that he didn't need the
notes anymore.'

`Snape?' asked Harry. `Why did he have to brew it so often?'

Minerva suppressed another smile as she saw Hermione roll her eyes at the question. `If you have heard of the 1637
Werewolf Code of Conduct you would understand. Have you heard of it, Harry?' she asked her friend without hope of a
positive answer.

Harry considered the question. `As it happens, I have. It is the regulating act for werewolves although it is a bit
contradictory. As far as I remember, it doesn't stipulate exactly whether a werewolf is a beast or a being because of
the divided responsibilities of the Magical Creatures Department. Capturing them and registering them is done by the
Beast division but support for them is done by the Being Department. I don't see what this has to do with Snape's
Wolfesbane potion though.'

Both women stared agog at Harry's remarks before sharing a look. It occurred to both that this must be recent knowledge
because both women knew that Harry Potter simply did not listen in History of Magic classes. Minerva felt her resolve
weaken a little further as she realised that he must have looked this up on discovering his friend had been bitten. She
could tell by the hint of moisture in Hermione's eyes that she too appreciated what Harry had been doing on her behalf.

`It relates to Severus because part of the remit of the Magical Creatures Being Division is to provide support for
werewolves. This support includes the supply of Wolfesbane Potion,' Minerva replied.

`So?' asked Harry.

Both women rolled their eyes again.

`So Severus Snape was probably the most gifted potion master in our world,' replied Minerva. `The Ministry has
responsibility for ensuring that werewolves have a sufficient supply of Wolfesbane potion. Severus would make them a
batch every month.'

Harry conceded the point, remembering just how much his own Potions brewing had improved after he obtained the Half
Blood Prince's book. `This is great news,' he finally replied.

`That is true, Mr Potter. While we cannot help Miss Granger this month, I will do my best to ensure a fresh batch is
brewed in time for next month.' She turned to Hermione. `It isn't perfect but it should help.'

Hermione nodded her gratitude. `So I…I might be able to stay in control?' she asked.

Minerva nodded. `If it works then you will remain in control. You will still transform but I am led to believe that the
effects are not as…severe.' Her expression softened. `I wish I could do more but it is the best I can do for the
moment.'

Hermione nodded. `You have done more than enough. It is the lack of control that really disturbs me. If I can retain my
awareness then I think I can bear this.'

`Good,' replied Minerva in a clipped tone. `I shall make sure sufficient potion is made available for you next month.
Until then, we shall just have to soldier on,' she added, before turning and heading for the portrait hole. Her progress
was stopped, however.

“Professor?”

Minerva stopped walking and turned to the voice. `Yes, Mr Potter?'

`While we are on the subject of Hermione's…affliction, do you mind if I ask something?'

`Go ahead.'

`It's obvious now that Greyback was fully transformed when he bit Hermione. My question is simple; how? It wasn't a full
moon that night. He should not have been able to transform. So how did he do it?'

A long silence greeted this question before Minerva finally replied. `I have no idea, Harry. Neither does Hermione. We
have discussed this between ourselves and have yet to come up with an explanation. Were it not for the fact that
Hermione is indeed fully cursed, I would not have believed it possible.'

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. `He escaped, didn't he? Greyback, I mean. He got away?'

`Certainly, we never located him either alive or dead after the battle,' replied Minerva. `So one must assume that he
did indeed escape.'

Harry looked grim. `We need to find him. I need to find him.'

`You need to do no such thing!' exclaimed Hermione. `Don't you think you have already done enough? It's up to the
Ministry to find him, not you. Don't you dare go looking for him, Harry!' She was practically shouting as she said this.

Harry was surprised by the vehemence of her words and when he glanced at Minerva she too seemed a little taken aback.
She soon recovered however.

`I must say, Harry that I quite agree. Greyback is extremely dangerous and it is not your responsibility to hunt him. It
must be left to the Aurors.'

`If they are still interested,' replied Harry. `Kingsley will have enough on his plate. If Greyback is sensible, he'll
lie low for a bit and the Ministry will ignore him for the moment. And I think we need to find him before they do.'

`Why?' asked Hermione, who seemed to have calmed down a bit.

`Because the Aurors will have orders to shoot to kill if necessary,' replied Harry quietly. `We cannot allow that to
happen. He must be taken alive so we can question him. We must find out how he can transform at will.'

`Is it really that important, Harry?' asked Minerva. `While I too am extremely curious, I would not be willing to risk
anyone getting hurt by insisting on taking him alive.'

Harry looked at his teacher and friend thoughtfully. He could tell from the fact that Hermione had gone quiet that she
fully understood where he was coming from, so he was surprised that Minerva had not made the leap. `It is that
important. If he can change into a fully formed Werewolf at will, then it stands to reason that he can change back too.
He was seen in both forms that night. What if he can do this when it is a full moon? What if he's discovered how to
control his lycanthropy?'

The headmistress gasped. `Impossible, Harry. Greyback could never have achieved such a feat. Some of the best witches
and wizards have been studying this subject for years with no success. And it took Damocles Belby years to come up with
the Wolfsbane potion and that is considered the most significant breakthrough in this area. Greyback could not have
achieved this.'

`Perhaps not,' replied Harry. `But Voldemort might have. It's why we need to find Greyback. He might be the one who can
help Hermione.' He turned to his dearest friend as he said this and for the first time in a while he saw a genuine smile
on her face as the truth of his words hit home.

Things were looking up for once.

***********

Ron Weasley sat on his bed in the seventh year dormitory and gazed out of the window, his eyes fixed upon the brilliance
of the full moon. He knew that Harry was lying awake too but neither seemed to be in a mood for discussion at the moment
and he had to admit that he was pleased that this was the case. They had once again accompanied Hermione to her cell but
- once again - had been forced to stand outside in the corridor and await the worst.

But at least there was cause for hope now.

He knew Hermione. Really knew her. While they had fought and argued over the years there was no denying the regard they
held for each other - a regard that had developed into something he had long dreamed of but had never hoped to achieve.
He knew about her intelligence and her compassion and her integrity and loyalty. But he also knew that she was something
of a control freak. That she hated it when something could not be explained using logic and reason.

And he reckoned that of all the issues one faced when cursed like she was, the lack of control would be the hardest
thing for her to deal with. In this respect he was more grateful than anyone would ever appreciate that Minerva had
located Snape's notes on brewing the potion. While he didn't think he could ever forgive Snape for the years of hell at
Hogwarts, he could at least acknowledge that possession of these notes meant that their chances of successfully brewing
effective potion had greatly increased.

He sighed and leaned back against his pillow. When he thought back to her response to his question in the infirmary he
found himself feeling a touch apprehensive. She had astonished him with her brief demonstration of her new abilities and
if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that it freaked him out a bit. He believed that he loved Hermione but he
knew that the prospect of having a girlfriend who could literally sense his every mood was a bit disconcerting. It
wasn't that he had anything to hide; rather it was a case that he believed that everyone was entitled to some secrets
and the thought that she would know when he was nervous or worried or - well; anything really - caused him a degree of
anxiety.

Which she will be able to sense too, he thought with a rueful smile.

He had meant every word when he had told her that her condition changed nothing. He knew that the curse was not her
fault; that she remained Hermione despite the changes she faced every month. He also knew that he would need to make
some adjustments for her but he didn't mind. She was his girlfriend and he would need to adjust.

But how far are you willing to go? asked a nasty little voice in his head. What if she can't adjust?

He sat up abruptly and cursed himself for such thoughts. This was the key issue, he knew.

What if we can't adjust to fit each other?

`Are you OK, mate?'

Ron turned to the source of the question, a startled look on his face which disappeared when he saw Harry eyeing him
with concern.

`It's just that you moved a bit…sudden, that's all,' continued Harry.

Ron smiled. `I'm fine. I just have a lot on my mind.'

Harry smiled back. `I know what you mean,' he replied. `Exactly what you mean,' he added softly. A moment of silence
passed before Harry spoke further. `I'm going back to Grimmauld Place tomorrow.'

Ron sat up straighter. `You are? Why? Hermione still has another night!'

Harry grimaced. `I know that, you idiot. But we aren't achieving anything here, are we? We can't help her when she's in
that dungeon and I feel like I'm getting in the way.'

`In the way of what?' asked Ron.

Harry rolled his eyes. `In the way of you and Hermione. You need some time together alone without me being the third
wheel. The two of you will have things to sort out.'

Ron reddened. `Oh! Right. That…yeah. Right.' He looked thoughtful for a moment. `Are you sure? She's your friend too.'

`I know. But she's your girlfriend. Trust me, Ron; you need time alone together. That's why I'm leaving - to give you
that time.'

Harry watched as his words finally got through to his friend and he saw Ron nod as he conceded the logic. Deciding that
he wasn't in the mood for more chat, he turned away from his friend and gazed out of the window, hoping that Ron
wouldn't cock things up with Hermione and hurt her again. His heart was in the right place but all too often his brain
was AWOL.

He had made the decision to leave a few hours earlier and he hoped Hermione would understand when he told her in the
morning. It wasn't that he wanted to go it was more a case that he needed to go for the sake of his friends. He really
was getting in the way as he and Hermione had been spending so much time together that it must be affecting Ron.

He suspected that Hermione would understand his motives. He smiled to himself. She would probably be able to understand
a lot more about him now that she had her new gifts. It was an aspect of lycanthropy that he had never considered - one
that Remus had never discussed - and he found himself in awe of Hermione's new talents. If there was anything good - any
silver lining to the catastrophe that had occurred then it was surely Hermione's new abilities. To be able to sense what
people are feeling; to be able to “read” them and understand them and to be able to use this understanding to help them
was a wonderful thing in his view. While he would readily admit that the price of this gift was far, far too high he
still believed that Hermione was the type of person who could use these talents to help others.

I will have no secrets from her! He smiled at the thought, aware that this could bring him even closer to his dear
friend. She had always been good at reading his moods but now she would be able to do it with ease and he found himself
taking comfort in that thought. What had happened was a disaster, of that there was no doubt. But if he could cling to
one crumb of comfort then it would be this; the fact that her lycanthropy might deepen his friendship with her.

With that comforting thought on an otherwise bleak night, he lay back in bed and closed his eyes before drifting off to
sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

9. The Elephant...

Harry glanced at his watch and sighed with impatience. He was sitting at the kitchen table in the Burrow and although he
was accompanied by Ron, neither man spoke a word to each other. Both were on tenterhooks.

Hermione was late.

It was very unlike her to be tardy and he was feeling a touch anxious about her safety. It had been nearly three weeks
since he had last seen her and in those weeks he had spent a lot of time thinking about his friend and what she was
dealing with. It seemed strange to not have her beside him after living in each others pockets for so long and he had
struggled to adjust to her absence. Quite simply, he missed her.

Two days after she had returned from Hogwarts she had announced her intention to depart for Australia in order to
contact her parents and bring them home. He understood fully. While Molly and Arthur treated her as one of their own, he
knew that she would be deeply missing her mum and dad and that she probably needed them now more than ever. Knowing his
friend, she would be harbouring feelings of guilt about having to send them away, not to mention the small detail of
having performed a memory charm on them. He understood fully why she had done this and he would be grateful to her until
the day he died but he was deeply concerned about how her parents would react when the truth was revealed. Hermione
needed her family but would they be able to forgive and forget so easily?

Or in this case, forgive and remember.

He had wanted to go with her. So had Ron but she had absolutely insisted that she go alone. He understood this too but
had not been happy with her decision. He knew that she needed some time alone to process everything that had happened to
her and that the trip to Australia would grant her this time but he had still wanted to go with her and had been unable
to hide his disappointment when she had refused.

`I need to do this on my own, Harry. I need to be on my own. Can you understand this?'

He could and he did understand and he accepted her decision without further comment even though he was not happy about
it.

Ron hadn't been quite so…accommodating.

He thought he was used to the bickering of his two closest friends but the argument they'd had over Hermione's decision
made all previous fights seem like mere skirmishes in comparison. Ron had hit the roof and the repercussions of the
argument were still being felt. Ron had tried to drag him into the argument in order to persuade Hermione to accept her
boyfriend's company on the trip but he had flatly refused to be drawn into the dispute. He had said his piece; had said
that he would not take sides in the argument; that he would prefer it if Hermione did not go alone but that the decision
was hers to make and he would respect that decision - whatever it turned out to be.

The smile she had bestowed on him when he had said this had been breathtaking. Unfortunately; Ron's countenance had not
been quite so benevolent. To put it mildly, “Mount Ron” had erupted and the aftershocks were still being felt.

Ron had initially directed his ire towards Hermione and Harry had left them to it. The new dynamic to their relationship
had made the ensuing argument none of his business and so he had beaten a hasty retreat in order to stay well out of it.
He had not heard much of what was said but had managed to pick out a few words when the voices had been raised in anger.

“Boyfriend,” “good enough” and “Harry” had been just a few of the words he had heard Ron say on more than one occasion
and he had wondered at the time why he was being dragged into it. “Selfish,” “insensitive” and “thoughtless” were just
three of the words he could remember Hermione responding with. When the door to the living room had finally swung open,
Hermione had hastened past him with tears of frustration smarting in her eyes. Ron's face had been like thunder and his
red-haired friend had then turned his anger on the nearest available target.

Which just happened to be me, he thought ruefully.

As a result, the parting with Hermione the next day had been a fraught affair. She had decided to see him alone and it
had occurred to him that this was to prevent Ron from marring their farewells with an ugly scene

`You take care of yourself. Just get in touch if you need me for anything - anything at all.' He noticed the emotion in
her eyes at these words before he continued. `I'm not going to take sides between you and Ron - you need to sort that
out amongst yourselves. But I want you to know that I'm here whenever you need me - and even when you don't.'

`Thanks, Harry. For everything,' she replied, drawing him into an embrace. When they parted she hesitated before
continuing `I was worried that you would be angry with me and take Ron's side. I thought Ron would try to use you to
gang up on me.'

`I won't lie to you, Hermione. I'd rather I or Ron was going with you but I respect your decision and I'm not angry with
you - just concerned. And don't worry about “taking sides.” If Ron had asked me to gang up on you I'd have hexed him. No
matter what, I'll be here for you when you get back.'

She smiled at his words and embraced him again and it was just at that moment that Ron had entered the room. The scowl
that was already on his face deepened further but he said nothing. Harry ignored him and gently prised himself away from
Hermione.

`Take care. I'll miss you' had been his last words to her before she left.

Once she'd gone he'd had a few words for Ron too. A few choice words that had needed to be said.

“Don't ever ask me to take sides when you two are fighting. If you ever do then I'll immediately take her side; do you
understand me?'

Ron had flared at these words. `Bloody typical! I might have known you'd pick her! The two of you are…”

`Don't say another word. I'm sick of this, Ron and I'm sick of you. It's about time you grew up. Hermione needs your
support more than anyone and the sooner you realise this, the better! For what it's worth, if she ever asked me to take
sides against you then I would have said the same to her. If she had asked that I would have taken your side.”

He'd stormed away after delivering this verdict and had been uncomfortably aware that his last statement was most
certainly a lie. He couldn't imagine taking anyone's side against Hermione.

For a few hours things had been cool between Ron and himself before they finally resolved the issue. Harry smiled to
himself. Resolved indeed. They had dealt with it much as any two teenage boys would have dealt with it. They had
pretended that it never happened.

Now as they both awaited Hermione's arrival it seemed that they were both too preoccupied for conversation. Harry found
himself quite content with this state of affairs as he had a lot on his mind at the moment and was wondering when he
would have an opportunity to speak to Hermione in private. For one thing, he had in his possession something that she
might find extremely useful.

With these thoughts, he placed his hand into his pocket and felt reassured as he ran his hand along the binding of the
small pocket book that had come into his possession. He had received it with some trepidation from Kingsley when he and
Andromeda had finally answered the Minster's request for a meeting.

It was Remus' diary.

A diary that he'd started at a young age after being cursed by the bite from Feynir Greyback. A diary that explained in
great detail everything his teacher and friend had to deal with as a result of that curse. He had pored over it since
receiving it and had felt his excitement grow as he had come to realise just how useful this little book would be to
Hermione as she struggled to come to terms with her condition.

He could not wait to give it to her.

It had saddened him though; saddened him on two counts. The first was that it was practically the only material
possession that Remus Lupin had left as a legacy to the world. When Kingsley had explained that he and Andromeda were
appointed trustees Harry had not realised just how little Remus had left in trust. A few pieces of jewellery; some
books; some financially worthless family heirlooms. As Kingsley had explained, anything of material value had been sold
a long time ago in order to enable Remus to live. The key request from his departed friend - the real meaning of
“trustee” - was the request that Harry and Andromeda bring up Teddy as if he was their own.

It was not really a request. To a person of honour it was a demand; an obligation. Harry was glad he had already made up
his mind about Teddy before hearing Remus' request from beyond the grave. He was Teddy's Godfather; Remus had trusted
him with that honour when both men knew that there was a good chance the role would prove to be more than the mere
ceremonial role it was for most people. Just as Sirius had eventually been able to mentor Harry, so too would he be
there to mentor Teddy. To do otherwise would be to spit on the memory of a dear friend.

It was after this announcement that Kingsley had mentioned the diary. For some reason, he had stipulated that Harry hold
it in trust until Teddy came of age. Obviously Moony had wanted his son to know something of his father and this diary
just might prove to be a window into Remus' life. Harry believed that it had been entrusted to him in the meantime
because of the frequent mentions of his parents and of Sirius. Remus would have known just how much he yearned for
information about his lost family and this diary had gone a long way to slaking this thirst. His old friend could not
have foreseen how much of a Godsend it would be to both him and to Hermione. It was almost as if it were fated to
happen.

He shook himself free of these thoughts as he heard a sudden roaring from the fireplace. Someone was flooing in to the
Burrow.

Hermione.

He got to his feet and it was with a feeling of joy that he watched his best friend materialise in the flames and step
out of the grate onto the rug in front of the fire. He thought he caught a troubled look in her eye before her
countenance broke into a beaming smile. He returned this with a smile of his own. No matter what was troubling her, they
would soon sort it out. For the moment, everything was all right once again.

Hermione was back.

***********

So how are they, dear?' asked Minerva McGonagall as she took a sip of her tea and regarded the young woman sitting in
the comfy armchair across the desk from her.

Hermione also enjoyed a sip of tea as she took a moment to consider the question. `Confused. Muddled.' She paused for a
second as she placed her cup and saucer on the desk. `Angry.'

`Angry?' asked Minerva. `With you?'

Hermione nodded. `Yes; with me.' She sighed. `They can't remember very much. It was the first time I had ever Obliviated
anyone and I don't know how effective it was. I'm amazed that they can remember anything; I always thought that memory
charms were irreversible.'

Minerva nodded. `They are irreversible but you didn't entirely wipe their memories, did you?'

`No; I just tried to remove all traces of the magical world. And of me. It took me weeks to find out how to do that.
When I showed up in their surgery in Australia I could tell that my face was familiar to them. It hurt to see them like
that; they were looking at me as if I was some distant acquaintance. It took me some time to explain who I was - I had
taken loads of pictures and letters and stuff to prove I was telling the truth. Then they started to remember snippets;
my presence seemed to act like a trigger.'

`How much do they remember?' asked Minerva.

`More than I thought they would. They remember that they had a previous life and they can remember most things about it
but they are still a bit vague about me and my magic.'

`That is understandable,' replied Minerva. `For all of your talents, dear, this was your first attempt at a memory
charm. I'm surprised it worked as well as it did.'

Hermione grimaced. `I wish it hadn't worked quite so well. Then they might have remembered more about the danger they
were in. I'm not sure they fully appreciate how great the threat was. That's why they are so angry.'

`Because they think you wiped their memories unnecessarily?'

Hermione shook her head. `No; because I cursed them without asking them. I made the decision for them. They are angry
because I took away their choice.'

Minerva placed her own cup carefully on the desk in front of her. `You had to decide for them. There was no choice!'

`I know! And If I had let them decide then they wouldn't have left!' exclaimed Hermione. `They would have stayed and
they would have been targets for Voldemort. I couldn't take the chance on their stubbornness. They are stubborn, you
know.'

Minerva raised an eyebrow at this remark and hid a smile. `Really?' she asked innocently, her eyes wide. `The parents of
Hermione Granger are stubborn? I wouldn't have credited that.'

Despite the situation, Hermione smiled at the remark. `Fair comment,' she replied ruefully. `Do you understand why I did
it though?'

`I do, Hermione; perhaps better than you realise. But you must try to understand them too. It will take time but they
are your parents and they will remember everything about you eventually and I am sure they still love you. So do not
lose heart. Where are they now?'

`At home,' she replied quietly, wondering if she would ever be able to fully reconcile with her parents. She picked up
her cup again and glanced out of the window, oblivious of the sympathy and concern with which Minerva was regarding her.

It had been a near impossible three weeks. Having travelled to the other side of the world she hadn't been entirely sure
what to expect but the look in the eyes of her parents when they saw her - that expression of recognising but not being
able to place the name - had hurt her more than she'd thought possible. It had taken her hours to convince them of the
truth and even when she had made a breakthrough; when she had seen the faint spark of recognition and memory in their
eyes, the shutters had quickly come down and the anger and outrage at her actions had burst forth.

It had not been a pleasant trip. And once her parents had learned something of their old life they had decided that they
wanted to return to Britain. They remembered just enough about her to be angry yet not quite enough to fully understand
why she'd acted as she did.

All in all, things could have gone better.

Now that they were back in Britain she felt as if she was making some progress with them. She had explained as best she
could just about everything that had happened and had tried her best to make them understand why it had been necessary
to curse them in the first place. She was getting through to them. When she had explained what Voldemort had done and
what he would have done had they remained unprotected, they had accepted - to an extent - that she was not entirely to
blame.

Now they blamed Harry instead.

`So what now, dear? Have you told them of your…condition?'

Hermione shook her head and turned her attention back to the woman sitting across from her. Despite her concerns, she
smiled warmly. The regard and affection she had for Minerva McGonagall was too great to quantify. Her teacher was
everything she hoped to be; independent, intelligent, brave, resourceful and decisive. It did not occur to her that
Minerva saw these qualities within her already.

`No. I didn't tell them. I figured things would be hard enough without telling them I was a monster.'

`You are not a monster, dear.'

`I am for three days a month.'

`Aren't we all?' Minerva replied with a mischievous smile. Her expression sobered. 'It was wise not to tell them for now
but you will have to inform them sooner or later. You know this?'

Hermione nodded her head. `I know this. I just need to wait until the opportunity presents itself.'

Minerva nodded her understanding. `So, where to next?'

`Back to the Burrow. I will be going there as soon as I finish this cuppa.' She glanced at her watch. 'In fact, I'm late
as it is. I really should get going.' She got to her feet, slightly on edge. If she was honest with herself, she was
worried about seeing Ron and Harry again. It was why she had elected to see Minerva first. For her part, Professor
McGonagall seemed to sense her discomfort.

`Is everything all right, Hermione? There are no problems between you and your friends are there?'

Hermione smiled ruefully. `I hope not. Ron wasn't too pleased when I announced I would be going to Australia on my own.'

`You and Mr Weasley…you are an item?' asked Minerva, tentatively.

Hermione nodded absently. `We are...at least we were before I left. I'm not sure anymore. I just hope Ron isn't still
angry.'

`I'm sure he won't be,' replied Minerva quietly. Hermione detected an…oddness in her tone but couldn't quite place what
it was.

`And what of Harry?' asked Minerva. `Was he angry with you too?'

Hermione smiled at the question. `No; Harry was never angry. He wasn't happy I was going alone but he understood why I
needed to go myself. He always understands.'

Minerva nodded at the remark. `He does. I am glad you appreciate it. When you see him, pass on my regards. I have not
seen too much of him lately. No one has. I understand he is trying to keep a low profile until the hype surrounding him
finally disappears.' Her grim expression revealed what she thought of Harry's chance of success in this: none
whatsoever.

`Is he all right?' Hermione asked, the concern evident.

`He's fine. Kreacher assures me he is fine. Apparently he has a new project that is keeping him occupied.'

`He does? Any ideas what it is?' Hermione asked.

Minerva smiled. `A few,' she replied cryptically. `A few. In the meantime, you had best depart and see your friends
again. They will be worried.' She stood and approached Hermione and surprised them both by embracing the younger woman.

`My door is always open to you. Always,' she repeated.

Hermione returned the embrace. `I know. And thank you.' She stood back from her friend and gave her a warm smile before
stepping into the fireplace. Taking a pinch of Floo powder from a small pot she raised her hand. She glanced at Minerva.

`I'll be in touch. Thanks for everything.'

Minerva acknowledged these words with a nod. Before she could reply, Hermione acted and in one smooth motion scattered
the powder into the flames.

`The Burrow!'

**********

Harry held back as Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and he watched as her expression changed to one of joy. He
wasn't entirely sure what he had seen on her face before she had smiled but he felt a niggling sensation that it did not
bode well for the future. He was almost certain she had looked worried. Now as he stood and gazed upon her, he became
aware of a sudden awkwardness in the room. He glanced across at Ron and noticed that his red-haired friend was hanging
back too. Harry closed his eyes and grimaced.

`Did I do something wrong?' asked Hermione and Harry could detect a hint of mischief in her voice. She was glancing from
one friend to the other with an amused expression on her face. It was not long however, before he noticed the corners of
her mouth begin to turn down as her question went unanswered. He glanced over at Ron once again and wondered how anyone
could be so thick.

For Merlin's sake, Ron. Say something! Do something! Anything!

His unspoken plea was finally answered as Ron seemed to waken from a trance. He glanced furtively at Harry before
awkwardly stepping forward.

`Hi, Hermione,' Ron mumbled. `It's...er…great to have you back. Did you have a nice trip?'

Harry rolled his eyes and it took all of his willpower not to hold his head in his hands. The word “teaspoon” suddenly
leapt unbidden into his mind. He was beginning to wonder how this would play out but had his curiosity satisfied before
it had time to take shape. Hermione had obviously decided to go easy on Ron. For the moment, anyway.

`Thanks, Ron!' she gushed as she launched herself at him and embraced him tight. Harry noticed Ron look surprised by the
gesture before an expression of relief flashed across his face. Ron tentatively placed his arms around Hermione and held
her, patting her back as if she were a dog, Harry thought to himself. He suppressed a grin and waited for his friends to
separate. When they did and Hermione turned to face him he surprised them both by suddenly wrapping himself around her
and lifting her off her feet.

`Do you have any idea how good it is to see you?' he asked her, his voice hoarse, his breath hot in her ear. `I have
never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life,' he added as he squeezed her tight before placing her feet back on
the floor. It occurred to him as soon as he said this that it was an absolute truth. He really couldn't recall being
happier to see anyone. He stepped back from her with a grin on his face and took her hands in his own and saw her face
light up in a smile.

`Me too!' she gasped. `Me too! It's so good to see you again,' she added with a look of sheer delight. Then her features
changed slightly as something suddenly occurred to her. `To see both of you,' she added hastily, turning to Ron. `I
missed you both.'

An awkward silence followed this statement and Harry found himself wondering why they were all so uncomfortable with one
another when he noticed Ron staring at his hands - the hands that were still holding Hermione's tightly. He hastily
released his grip and stepped back, flushing as he did so.

`Well…I think I had best leave you two to it. I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on. It should just have been Ron here
waiting to greet you - I could have caught up with you later. I'll let you two have some time to yourselves to catch
up.'

`There's no need, Harry!' Hermione exclaimed and she reached out and grabbed his hand as if trying to stop him from
leaving. He glanced down at her fingers and suddenly became really aware of everything that was passing between the
three of them. Aware of his own racing heartbeat; aware of Ron awkwardly shuffling his feet as he looked at the ground;
and finally, he was aware of Hermione's quick breathing. He noticed that her face had reddened and noticed too that
Ron's face had also flushed but he suspected this was not out of embarrassment.

`Yes there is,' he finally replied. `There is every need. You two have…a lot of catching up to do. I'll just get in the
way.' He smiled before continuing. `Don't worry; I'll see you both later - I have a few things to tell you. But for now
I think it best if I just leave,' he added hastily as he gently released her grip on him and quickly headed for the
door. He had been aware of an elephant in the room from the moment Hermione had stepped out of the fireplace.

It was only now that he realised that he was the elephant.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

10. Voice From the Past

Ron watched his best friend close the door behind him and finally turned to face Hermione.

Alone.

He didn't know what he was feeling right now. Or even how he was supposed to be feeling. He had watched Harry receive
Hermione with the welcome he should have given her and his resentment had boiled to the surface. He had found himself
being irrationally jealous of Harry recently and his friend's latest intimate moment with Hermione had only served to
pour fuel on that particular fire. But part of him knew that Harry was not at fault. That the issues lay only with
himself.

He had always harboured suspicions that Hermione had feelings for Harry and vice-versa and it was only recently that
these fears had been allayed. After all, Harry had told him that he only loved Hermione as a sister.

And then she kissed me! Me! So why do I get angry when I see them hold each other like that! They are friends! Why
wouldn't they hug each other?

He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling something Harry had said the day Hermione had left for Australia. Maybe his
friend was correct.

Maybe it is about time I grew up.

He opened his eyes again and looked at his friend - hopefully still his girlfriend. He noticed that she had an
apprehensive expression on her face and he came to a realisation.

`I'm sorry,' he began. He noticed a look of surprise flash across her face at his words.

`You're sorry?' she asked.

`Yeah. I'm sorry. For a lot of things. For fighting with you before you left. For not respecting your decision to go
alone.' He sighed. `For being angry with you for three bloody weeks. For not supporting you like I said I would. For not
welcoming you home properly. In short; for being a complete arse. Can you forgive me? Can we start again?'

He thought he saw a moment's hesitation in her eyes before she finally replied.

`Of course I forgive you,' she said softly, but before she allowed herself to be drawn into an embrace she held her hand
up to forestall him. `I can forgive you, Ron, but I am wondering how often we will need to go through this sort of
thing? How often are we going to argue and how often am I going to have to forgive you - or you forgive me? Before I am
willing to start again, I want to know if this is going to be a regular occurrence. There are going to be times when I
do something you don't like and vice-versa. I need to know you are not going to go off on one the way you did before I
left just because you were not getting your own way. I accept that we will not always agree and that there will be times
when we will argue, but I will not accept you throwing your toys out of the pram every time things don't go the way you
want. We need to be able to discuss our differences without losing our tempers - at least some of the time. We argued
enough as friends, Ron; I don't want to be fighting all the time with my boyfriend. Can you understand that?'

Ron took a deep breath as he tried to contain his initial anger at her words. `I can understand that, Hermione, perhaps
better than you think. Harry told me that I need to grow up and I guess he is right. I promise that I will do my best to
understand your point of view whenever we disagree and I'll try not to get angry. I don't know what else I can say.'

`You don't need to say anything else,' she replied quietly. `That's all I am asking for, Ron; that you respect me and do
your best to respect my decisions. Let's try and start again; let's pretend that we never had that argument.' She leaned
forward as she said this and allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace. Ron held her tight, relieved and contented
both and considered himself the luckiest man alive.

For her part, Hermione allowed herself to be held but wondered why she did not feel anywhere near as good as she did
when Harry had held her a few moments before. A sudden thought flashed into her mind as she considered this.

What if Ron's best isn't good enough?

It was a horrible thought but one she could not avoid. All throughout Sixth Year and even during the search for the
Horcruxes she believed that this was everything she had hoped for - that she and Ron would end up together. Despite
their many fights over the years, despite the terrible things he had said to her at times, she had come to believe that
Ron was the one for her and that they would end up together. But now she was beginning to wonder because she did not
want a relationship where she was fighting all the time. She had always told herself that her fights with Ron was due to
them both being confused by their mixed feelings for each other - the “friends or something more” problem. She'd
believed that once their relationship was out in the open, these tensions would disappear and they would settle down.
Ron's reaction to her going to Australia had made her question this logic. Even now after he had promised her that he
would do his best she found herself strangely restless rather than relieved.

What if Ron's best isn't good enough?

As she stood in his arms she found she didn't know the answer to that question.

**********

Just over an hour later, Harry gently rapped on the door of Ron's bedroom and waited a few moments until he heard the
familiar tones of his best mate.

`Who is it?'

Harry smiled. `Me, you stupid git! Can I come in?'

`Of course you can come in, Harry,' interjected Hermione, a touch of asperity in her voice. As he reached for the door
handle he heard some urgent hissing coming from his friends too. He suppressed a smile and entered the room.

The scene that greeted him was not what he had expected. For one thing, the room was tidy and he suspected that a few
words had been exchanged between Ron and Hermione because when he had been in the room to see Ron earlier in the day it
had not looked so…ordered. Earlier today it had borne all the hallmarks of a Weasley man; untidy and disorganised.

The other aspect of the little tableau had been the fact that his two friends were sitting on different beds and at
opposite ends and he wondered about that. Surely they are not doing this for my benefit? He had suspected for a while
that Ron and Hermione might finally become a couple but he hadn't actually thought about how they would behave around
him once they did. He also wasn't sure how successful their reconciliation had been and he now found himself wondering
if they were still together. But their behaviour was starting to irk him just a little; had he known that they would act
so silly, he might have done more to stop the relationship starting in the first place.

Now why did I think that?

`What's the matter, Harry?'

Harry shook himself back into the moment when he heard Hermione's question. He regarded his two friends for a moment
before grabbing the chair by the window and very deliberately placing it between the two beds. Glancing up, he caught a
faint look of grim amusement on Hermione's face and it occurred to him that she knew exactly why he had placed the chair
where he had. A quick glance at Ron told him that his other friend was oblivious to his motives. He sighed heavily
before sitting down and placing his hand in his pocket.

`When you were away,' he began, looking directly at Hermione, `I had a meeting with Kingsley and Andromeda.' He noticed
her expression soften and he realised that she knew why such a meeting had taken place.

`When did you meet with Kingsley?' asked Ron indignantly. `You never told me about that!'

Harry turned to his red-haired friend and sighed. `There was nothing to tell, Ron,' he replied. `At least, nothing to
tell that couldn't wait until now. We weren't exactly on the best of terms, were we?' He ignored the sudden flush that
appeared on Ron's face at the gentle rebuke and continued. `Besides, I wanted Hermione to hear this first because it
affects her more than anyone. It didn't seem right to tell you when she wasn't here.'

`Tell him what?' asked Hermione. She leaned forward and he could see the confusion on her face. `I am assuming that you
met with Kingsley and Andromeda to discuss Remus' Will?' she asked.

Harry nodded.

`So where do I fit into this?' Hermione continued. `Much as I liked and admired Remus, I fail to see why his Will would
affect me.'

Harry licked his lips before replying as he decided how best to proceed. Finally he decided to come straight to the
point. He looked her straight in the eye. `It affects you because of this,' he said as he held Remus' journal up in his
hand.

`What's that?' asked Ron.

Harry did not turn to face him. Instead, he watched Hermione's expression change from confusion to one of understanding.

And then to one of hunger. She knows.

`It's Remus' journal,' he replied without taking his eyes off Hermione. `It details everything he knew about
lycanthropy. Everything he ever experienced. Every full moon. Every change he underwent. It provides names of other
werewolves that he knew and liked and describes what he had to deal with when growing up.' His voice thickened as he
spoke. `He mentions my mum and dad a lot. And Sirius. It's his whole life.'

`Why did he leave it to you?' asked Ron and Harry cursed his friends obtuseness. It was evident from the expression on
Hermione's face that she knew why he now held this book and it was obvious too that she understood the significance of
it.

`He didn't leave it to me,' he finally replied, his voice even. `He left it to Teddy but I am his Trustee. My job is to
keep it safe until Teddy is of age.'

`And can anyone else read it?' asked Hermione and Harry could sense the longing in her voice.

`Better than that,' he replied with a smile. `I asked Andromeda if I could make a copy for myself. She said yes,' he
added, holding up a second book. `This one is for you but don't let Andromeda know. She thinks I want a copy because it
mentions my parents.'

`Oh, Harry! This is wonderful!' she exclaimed and threw herself at him, almost knocking him off the chair. He laughed
out loud at her reaction and squeezed her tight before pulling back and looking into her eyes.

`Just don't tell Andromeda. She'll kill me,' he said softly before passing her a copy of the journal.

`My lips are sealed,' Hermione replied, her arms still around his neck and Harry could detect something in her voice
that he hadn't heard for some time.

Hope.

He felt a sudden rush of affection for her at that moment and pulled her into another embrace.

Maybe things would be all right after all.

***********

Ron wasn't happy. For once his appetite deserted him and as he sat idly poking and prodding at the sausages on his
breakfast plate he wondered if such sudden changes in mood were to be his lot in life if he was to be the boyfriend of
Hermione Granger. Less than twenty four hours ago his joy and relief at seeing her again had overcome the anger and
resentment he'd been harbouring since her departure for Australia. He'd been sincere in his apologies to her and had
felt a weight fall from his shoulders as his girlfriend had accepted his apology and had welcomed his embrace. His
lingering anger at Harry had disappeared too and he'd felt a bit ashamed at his behaviour. None of this was Harry's
fault; his best mate wasn't deliberately trying to make him feel like a third wheel; an outsider in the company of his
girlfriend. Harry was not trying to undermine him.

It just feels that way sometimes, he thought to himself. Like right now.

He had hardly seen either Hermione or Harry since the latter had produced that damn journal of Remus.' From the moment
Harry had presented Hermione with her copy he had once again felt like an outsider; a third wheel in the group. He had
smiled at first when she had embraced Harry but then he had found himself feeling bitter. It was almost as if there were
two Ron Weasleys; each battling for supremacy inside his head.

She always seems too touchy-feely with Harry.

But she's your girlfriend.

So why is she always hugging Harry then?

Because they are best friends.

They seem closer than best friends.

They are closer than best friends, you idiot! He loves her like a sister, remember? Or have you forgotten that night
already?

Oh, yeah…

Ron shook himself out of the mental gymnastics that were going on in his head. He had forgotten about Harry's remark
which was stupid, really, because it meant that he had nothing to worry about. He knew that a man did not think about
his sister in certain ways because it was just…wrong. Sick.

But she's not really his sister...

`Something on your mind?'

Ron turned, flushed at the voice. Ginny. She picks her moments, he thought with a rueful shake of the head. He turned to
his sister, noticing that she seemed relaxed as she leaned against the kitchen wall, her arms folded.

`No; not really. I'm just being…my usual stupid self.'

Ginny's eyes twinkled at the remark. `What? Again? What is it this time?'

Ron felt a flickering of resentment, both at the tone and the substance of his sister's question. Then he relaxed; this
wasn't Ginny's fault. Besides; she would probably understand better than anyone. But he did find himself wondering why
she was in such a good mood - she had been very down since Harry had finally broken things off with her.

`I was just thinking about Harry and Hermione,' he finally offered.

`Oh?'

`Yeah. I was just thinking that they seem to spend a lot of time in each other's company. That they enjoy spending time
with each other a little too much.'

Ginny nodded. `I notice that they are closeted up again this morning; both of them have a book. Do you know what they
are up to?'

Ron nodded. `Yeah. But I can't tell you. Not yet. Hermione will tell you when she's ready.'

Ginny looked as if she was desperate to know but she managed to restrain herself. Instead, she returned to her original
tack. `So you are feeling left out? And a little worried that Hermione might prefer Harry?' she asked.

Ron started in his chair. `Just come right out with it, why don't you?' He exclaimed. `Bloody hell, Ginny. At least try
to be subtle.'

`Why? It needs to be said, Ron. It is something you need to come to terms with or you will drive yourself crazy. Well;
crazier,' she added to take the sting out of her words.

`What do you mean?'

Ginny sighed. `I mean Harry and Hermione have always been extremely close and probably always will be. And if you are
serious about her then you have to accept that or you will never be happy. And neither will she.'

`And have you accepted this?' Ron asked shrewdly.

Ginny hesitated. `I did. I had to.' She finally sat down next to her brother. `I have to admit that it took some time.'
She sighed as she leaned back in the chair and Ron could tell that she was remembering. `When I was in fifth year I was
jealous of Hermione. Even after I started seeing Harry I was still jealous of her. It's why I was short with her on a
few occasions. And when the three of you disappeared last year I was jealous again.'

`Why?' asked Ron, incredulous. `We were on the run!'

`I know, Ron. But Hermione was with Harry and I wasn't. It was only when I saw you all again that I knew.'

`Knew what?'

`Knew that I would have to trust them both or I would never be happy. It eats away at you, doesn't it? The wondering. Do
they fancy each other? Are they more than mere friends?'

Ron nodded.

`Well; I had to learn trust Harry.'

`Didn't do you much good, did it?' Ron cursed himself for his lack of tact as soon as the words left his mouth.

Ginny gave him a look that suggested she was about to disembowel him but then sighed. `I have accepted that if ever I
want to have any chance of getting back together with Harry, I will also have to accept that he will always be very
close with Hermione. I trust them both. I have also come to realise that the best chance I have of getting back together
with Harry is if you don't screw things up with Hermione. Once he sees how happy you two are, he'll come back to me.'

It occurred to Ron why Ginny's mood had improved. He hoped it wasn't based on a delusion but he also believed that his
own prospects with Hermione would be improved if Harry and Ginny were dating again. `So what do I do? I do trust them
but I just find it hard at times.'

`Do you honestly think they would deliberately hurt us both like that?' asked Ginny. Do you really think they would go
behind our backs?

Ron shook his head. `No; I guess not.' He took a deep breath before continuing. `I asked him, you know. Well; I sort of
asked him. The issue came up. It's complicated.'

`Asked him what?'

`Asked him if he had feelings for her.'

Ginny seemed to take an age to reply. `And?' she finally managed.

`And he told me that he loved her like a sister. That he thought I knew that he loved her like a sister.' He turned and
looked directly into Ginny's eyes as he said this and saw the relief flash across her face.

So she does have her doubts, despite what she says.

`Well; there you are then,' Ginny finally managed. `He wouldn't lie to you like that, would he?'

Ron didn't hesitate. `No. He wouldn't. Harry would never lie to me like that. Never.'

Both Weasley siblings shared a moment of peace at this observation.

`So what do we do then?' asked Ron.

Ginny smiled enigmatically at the question. `Leave it with me, Ron. I have a few ideas that will make things better for
both of us.'

Ron opened his mouth to reply before stopping himself and nodded his assent, deciding he didn't want to know what these
ideas involved.

Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.

***********

Upstairs, the musings were very, very different. Harry was completely oblivious to the concerns of both Ron and Ginny as
he pored over the journal of Remus Lupin. Since it had come into his possession he had read and re-read the bits
pertaining to his parents and Sirius and he had been ecstatic to discover several little details about them - especially
about his father - that he had never heard before. When he had received the journal from Kingsley he had thought it a
gift as it would be of use to Hermione. He had not even considered that it might be of emotional value to himself. He
had learned all sorts of new information about his parents and their closest friends. He flicked back a few pages and
stopped at a random date, smiling as he realised he had already discovered this particular passage. Reading it once
again, he could recognise his former teacher and friend in the scribblings of a fourteen year old boy.

October 30th 1974

A momentous day today, dear diary! I discovered today that I have friends for life in James and Sirius as they
discovered my secret and did not abandon me. I don't know what to think to be honest - I find myself trembling as I
write. I have often wondered how they would react if they discovered the truth. Would they be disgusted? Fearful or
cruel? I never expected them to be angry with me for not telling them sooner. I understand their anger now. They think I
wasn't willing to trust them but I believe they know why I kept it from them. But their anger was short-lived. Sirius
said he would flatten me were it not for the fact that I could snap him in two at the full moon and James said we would
find a way to work around this as he reckoned I would make a good house pet. He said he would buy me a dog bowl and a
rubber ball for my birthday…

…Harry smiled as he read of his father's reaction to Lupin's revelation. It warmed his heart to realise that his father
really was a good man; that even as a teenager he was willing to judge people on who they were and not by what they
were. He didn't know if people were born with such qualities or whether they were instilled into a child through example
and education, but at that moment his heart was quite willing to believe that his own lack of prejudice was a legacy
from his father.

And his mother. For she too was mentioned in the journal. She too was a part of Remus' life.

May 29th 1977

They kissed! They finally kissed! And not before time. For the past few months I wouldn't have wagered a single knut on
whether Lily was more likely to punch him or kiss him but she finally decided what to do. James has been walking around
with an even more stupid smile on his face ever since and I wonder if he realises just what he has let himself in for…

…of course he does. He knows Lily is exceptional. She has been like a sister to me these past two years and one of the
few who knows my secret. And she didn't recoil! She took me for what I am and James had better realise how special she
is or I will eat him alive - Prongs or otherwise.

But he knows. I reckon those two are made for each other. I think everyone else believes the same because even the
teachers were smiling at them today. Severus seemed to take exception to it all but then he takes exception to
everything James and Sirius do. If it weren't for the fact that he hates Muggleborns I would have said he had a thing
for Lily, but that is an absurd notion as the prejudices of him and his House are well known…

It was with mixed feelings that Harry gently closed the journal. His initial pleasure at reading about his mother and
father was tempered by sadness as he considered the plight of Snape. He still hadn't worked out his feelings for Snape
and over these past weeks he had put them very much to the back of his mind. The pain and anguish the man had caused him
for nigh on seven years was tempered by the admiration he now had for the man's bravery.

And the sympathy he found himself feeling for him too. Snape had loved Lily Evans to his dying day and had done so
despite the fact she loved a man he despised more that any other.

Or was the reason he despised my father simply because she loved him?

Whatever the reason, he understood the man more now than he had ever done. Snape had loved a woman who had loved another
man. He had loved a Muggleborn - a woman he was taught to despise - and he had loved her so completely that he had gone
against his own kind for her memory - even to death. Such actions could not be ignored; could not be blithely discarded.
He could not bring himself to hate Snape any more as his hate seemed such a trivial thing in light of what Severus Snape
had endured in his short life. Hating him now seemed a waste of effort. And the man did have redeeming qualities. His
bravery for one thing. Harry still could not get his head around the cold courage Snape had demonstrated. Acting on the
spur of the moment was one thing, but spontaneous bravery paled into insignificance in the face of the prolonged and
pre-meditated courage that Snape would have required in order to deceive Voldemort for so long.

And me. He deceived me. He deceived all of us for so many years.

Had he been told a few months ago that Severus Snape was in love with a Muggleborn, he knew he would have thought the
teller mad. Snape had never - ever - shown anything but contempt for Muggleborns. He looked up from his reading and cast
his glance over to his friend on the bed opposite and wondered. He watched as Hermione absently twiddled her hair as she
read her copy of Remus' journal and it occurred to him that Snape may have been so hard on her for far more complicated
reasons than a mere dislike of Gryffindors. Having an extremely clever and attractive Muggleborn witch in his classroom
must have brought back some dark memories.

Especially when there was a male Potter in the class too.

He suddenly sat upright and reddened as Hermione lifted her head and looked right at him. She seemed to have this
unerring knack of knowing when he was watching her and he briefly wondered if it was because of her new powers or
whether she had always done this and he just hadn't noticed. It occurred to him that he had taken her friendship for
granted at times over the years. She had always been there for him when he had needed her - even when she had not agreed
with him - and he knew that he had not always appreciated this loyalty as much as he should have. As he looked on his
dearest friend he inwardly vowed to never do so again.

`What?' she asked, a hint of amusement in her tone.

`Nothing,' he found himself replying. He had not realised he had been staring for so long. `I was just wondering if the
journal was of any use,' he added by way of explanation.

Hermione nodded, knowing from his sudden, subtle change in tone and in his scent that he wasn't being entirely truthful
but knowing too that he was not concealing anything from her of importance. Whatever it was it was trivial and personal
so she chose to ignore it. She smiled at him reassuringly and turned her attention back to the diary in her hand, aware
that he was still staring at her and was still…uncomfortable about something. Whatever it was, he would tell her in his
own time, she knew. Harry had always kept his feelings close to his chest and she found herself wondering if this was as
a result of his upbringing with the Dursley's or whether it was an innate characteristic. If it were the latter then she
suspected that his reticence must come from his mother because it was clear from Remus' journal that while James Potter
had been a lot of things, reticent had not been one of them.

The journal truly was a gift. She found herself idly wondering if it was fate that was responsible for her receiving a
copy. When Remus had written his Will, he could have had no idea how useful this particular legacy would be. But she
dismissed the notion with a small shake of her head. If Fate truly was responsible then Fate had decided that she was to
be cursed. That she could not accept. She would not and could not accept that she had no control over her own destiny.

Sighing, she idly flipped through the pages as she sought a particular passage. It was one that had caught her attention
when she had first read the journal and she found herself returning to it repeatedly. She wondered if Harry had read it
and - if he had - if he understood the significance of it.

April 25th 1978

Exam time approaches. They are our final exams. They represent everything we have been working towards these past seven
years and yet I find that I can hardly bring myself to care about them. Everyone is talking about how important they
are, Dear Diary; about how they will shape our lives after Hogwarts. Even James, Sirius and Peter were speculating about
what they would do after school is over and for the first time it occurred to me - really occurred to me - just how
cursed I am. It occurred to me that I could get fifty outstanding NEWTS and they still won't be worth the paper they
will be written on because no one gives a job to a werewolf. There are no career paths open to werewolves.

I have always known this, I think. I have just chosen to ignore it until now. My friends have helped me to do this, of
course. They have always said my condition is of no importance and when I think of the effort they put in to become
Animagi for my sake I find myself humbled by their friendship. But this friendship has allowed me to forget that they
are the exception. That the reality is that I am despised. I have already sensed it among my own kin. Some of my
extended family are uncomfortable in my presence and try as they might they cannot hide their unease or their revulsion.
This nose never lies.

So what do I do, Dear Diary? What is to be my lot in life? How will I support myself once I am on my own? And I will be
on my own for what woman can ever love me? What prospect do I have of enjoying a normal life? Of finding a woman to love
and marry and have children with? Children? Hah! Puppies more like…

I guess I am just feeling sorry for myself. James and Sirius would kill me if they read this. I should count my
blessings rather than curse the fates. I have friends. That will be enough. It will have to be enough for I cannot
conceive of how I can ever have anything more.

Hermione stopped reading at this point and became aware of a feeling of panic well within her. Since she had learned of
her own curse she too had allowed herself to forget just how serious her plight was. The support and love given to her
by Ron and Harry - not to mention Minerva - had caused her to take her eye off the reality of the situation. Remus'
despair; his hopelessness and his fear had acted like a slap in the face. That she had needed such a slap was not of any
consolation to her. She felt the first hint of tears well in her eyes and she angrily wiped them away.

`Are you OK?'

She looked up, startled by the sudden question and found herself facing the concerned face of Harry. She offered a
tremulous smile.

`I'm fine. This book is fantastic.' She forced her smile wider. `Thanks for giving me a copy.'

She watched him smile in return, reassured.

`You're welcome,' he replied.

Hermione nodded to him and turned her attention back to the journal, glad that Harry did not have her ability. That he
could not sense the lie nor could he read her as she could read him. As she had always been able to read him.

Harry looked at his friend and wondered what particular passage had disturbed her. He had his suspicions but decided to
let matters lie for the moment. He glanced thoughtfully at his own copy of the journal in his hand and turned once again
to the entry dated April 25th 1978. He shook his head, aware that he did not need to be a werewolf to know when Hermione
was lying to him. He just hoped that his friend would come to realise this for herself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

11. Wolfesbane

a/n Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter - I have just been incredibly busy both at work and at home and simply
haven't had the time to update. Unfortunately, I don't have a batch of chapters already “banked” - I post as I complete
each chapter and sometimes life just gets in the way. The next update shouldn't take so long and the pace of the story
itself is about to pick up.

While I'm writing this, I'll take the opportunity to thank everyone who has taken the time to review. All are
appreciated.

BF

……………………………………………

Fenrir Greyback leaned to one side and carefully peered around the trees he was using as cover for this particular
“mission.” The target in question was an attractive little cottage in the Peak District and one that was home to a young
magical family.

He preferred them young.

He'd been casing the cottage for most of the morning and had watched the young couple as they played with their two
young children. It occurred to him that since the fall of the Dark Lord, people were becoming complacent and were
letting their guard down. Greyback shook his head in amazement at the stupidity of some people. Didn't they realise
there was more than one darkness in the world?

He'd been lying low since the battle at Hogwarts. He'd only just managed to escape with his life after being finally
brought down by the Longbottom and Weasley boys; two who would pay for their insolence -the mudblood Granger would pay
too. In the ensuing chaos following Potter's victory, he'd managed to slip out of the castle unnoticed and had been
using these past few weeks to recover, lick his wounds and try and reform his pack after the massive casualties they'd
suffered.

The waiting was over. Now it was time to remind everyone just how dangerous he was. He was actually pleased at the fall
of the Dark Lord. While he would acknowledge that Voldemort provided him with plenty of fresh prey, he was aware that
the Dark Lord had never accorded him any respect and viewed him even lower than mudbloods and muggles. He had only ever
been a weapon to the Dark Lord and had never gained his respect.

This was all going to change. He was his own master now. The Dark Lord did leave one legacy, one that he would use to
change their world. One he would use to gain their respect. Werewolves would soon be crawling to join his pack once they
realised what he had in his possession.

The ability to control his lycanthropy and change at will.

Although he could have launched an attack at any point in the past 4 weeks, he'd decided to wait until the full moon. It
wasn't just because he was more powerful at this time, it just felt right to him; that his return should be done
properly. He'd learned from the Dark Lord that fear and power could often be enhanced by powerful symbols and announcing
his return at the full moon was a powerful symbol. Tonight, the magical world would learn to fear again.

With that thought giving him comfort, he slid behind the trees again and continued his vigil. Stalking the prey was
almost as much fun as devouring it. He licked his lips in anticipation.

Almost.

…………………………………………………

Hermione grimaced as Minerva proffered her a goblet that positively smouldered, emitting a faint blue smoke that did not
auger well. This was the seventh time she'd gone through this little ritual having taken a dose on each of the preceding
six days. She knew that the way one must imbibe Wolfsbane Potion was unique in that a goblet must be taken for each day
of the week preceding the full moon. Unfortunately, her familiarity with the process did not make it any easier. Taking
a deep breath, she pinched her nose between thumb and forefinger, tilted her head back, and poured the potion quickly
down her throat in the vain hope that haste would lessen the appalling taste.

It didn't work this time either.

She sat absolutely still for a moment, stretching her arm to its fullest extent as if trying to get the goblet as far
away from her as possible. Then her body convulsed in a shudder that she felt from the hairs on her head right down to
the nails on her toes.

`Ugh! That is simply awful! Why does sugar stop it working properly?” she griped as she finally placed the empty goblet
on to the headmistresses' desk.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Minerva smiled. `You should consider yourself fortunate! When I was younger,
no such option existed for werewolves; at least you know that there is a very real benefit to taking the potion.'

`Should be a very real benefit, you mean. You are assuming this will work.'

Minerva's expression darkened at Hermione's observation. `Horace has done his best - I have no doubt that this will
prove good enough. For all his many faults, he is a superb potions master and he did have access to Severus' notes. I
have every faith in his abilities.'

Hermione took comfort from these words. She was lucky; Wolfsbane was an extremely difficult potion to make, as even
Slughorn claimed that the great Damocles couldn't have invented it without immense effort. Very few potions masters were
able to successfully brew it. Severus Snape had been one such master, she thought, surprising herself with feeling more
than a hint of sadness at that fact. Slughorn had admitted that he had not brewed a batch for years but had stated that
with access to Severus' notes, he had every confidence that he could brew it correctly once again.

She also knew she was fortunate simply because the ingredients required to brew the potion were ruinously expensive,
making it nigh-impossible for werewolves to brew it themselves, as they usually lived in poverty due to their difficulty
in finding stable careers. She'd read in Lupin's diary that one of the main reasons he'd returned to Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was because Albus Dumbledore offered a limitless supply
of the Wolfsbane Potion. She found herself wondering if such a future career option would be available to her now that
Dumbledore was gone too. Minerva may be the deserved headmistress of Hogwarts but Hermione wasn't sure if her mentor had
enough authority in their society to face down the opposition that would be sure to come were it to be announced that a
werewolf was returning to the Castle.

As if reading her thoughts, Minerva interrupted her reverie. `Have you made a decision yet, my dear?'

Hermione shook her head, knowing that she needed more time. As the school was still closed for repair, Minerva had
informed her of the offer to allow all students to re-sit the academic year that had just ended. Not only had the school
lost nearly two months of the final term, the tutelage under Snape and the Carrows for the previous eight months had
been almost non-existent for every form year in the school. With focus on blood purity rather than on a proper
curriculum, no one had received a decent education. Come September 1st, everyone had the chance to do the year over
again properly - if they wanted to.

That this offer had been extended to Ron, Harry and herself had taken her aback. It was not something she had considered
and she still didn't know what to do. She had no clue as to what Harry and Ron were planning either. Six weeks ago her
answer would have been an immediate “YES!!!” but now things had changed so much - she had changed so much - that she was
as yet undecided. All her previous plans to pass her NEWTS and consider her career options had been blown away by
events.

`I still don't know what to do. The idea appeals but then I think that I'll spend the year being gawped at by half the
students. It will be a million times worse for Harry too. After everything we've done, going back to school seems so…'

`So normal,' Minerva finished for her. `It might be just exactly what you need. I can assure you that Hogwarts and her
staff will treat you exactly like any other students or I'll know the reason!' She had raised her voice as she finished
speaking and calmed herself with an effort. `Returning to Hogwarts might be exactly what you need, my dear.' She paused
for a moment. `It means we will be able to manage your…condition until such times as you have adapted.' She smiled
sadly. `We have certain experience in these matters and I will do everything in my power to maintain the strictest
confidentiality. I do not consider it to be anyone's business save mine, yours and anyone you choose to share the
information with. Rest assured no one will hear anything of it from me.'

Hermione could only smile her gratitude. Minerva McGonagall was proving to be a rock that she could anchor herself
against. Tonight she would discover just how good a potion master Horace Slughorn was and she knew that much depended on
this. If she could at least maintain control of the beast, she knew her future life would be bearable.

`I'll wait until after tonight,' she finally replied. `If the potion works then that will make my decision easier. I'll
let you know in the morning.'

The headmistress nodded her understanding and found herself with yet another reason for hoping that Horace would be able
to live up to his reputation.

……………………………………..

Harry flopped onto the leather sofa in the Gryffindor common room and allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as
he enjoyed a precious moment alone. Since returning to the school earlier in the week, he had been heavily involved in
the restoration of the battle ravaged castle and could now see visible signs of progress; he reckoned there was an
excellent chance of meeting the September 1st deadline.

Of course, he had only made a small contribution to the overall effort. Every available house elf was working in shifts
around the clock to restore the castle's former glories. With the Headmistress overseeing the entire operation, he, Ron,
Hermione and Ginny had meekly obeyed any and all instructions that were given. The work was difficult but enjoyable as
there was much satisfaction to be had from giving back to the school that had given them so much. For all the many
dangers he had faced here, Hogwarts was the nearest thing he had to call home and he felt privileged to be afforded the
opportunity to help. The destruction had been total - barely a corner of the castle had been left untouched - and the
majority of the work was beyond the capability of a simple Reparo spell. Thankfully, the castle itself seemed to aid
them when necessary and he had been reminded once again that Hogwarts was so much more than a building. He'd found
himself thinking of Dumbledore a lot recently.

Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.

It would seem that the old man would continue to surprise him, even in death. The castle was helping and he recognised
once again that anything that Dumbledore had ever uttered could be said to have at least three interpretations. It was
if the old man had known all along what would be required in the future.

Smiling, he leaned back into the sofa, placing his hands behind his head as he mused on the past week. He'd initially
been surprised when Ginny had accompanied them to help with the repairs, but then he'd realised that she was probably
desperate to get out of the Burrow and away from the mournful atmosphere that pervaded there. For all that Molly and
Arthur tried to put a brave face on it there was no getting away from the grief that Fred's loss has caused. It was less
than a month since he'd been buried and he knew that Ginny would want the distraction. Having lost so many people close
to him in his short life, he knew exactly how she felt.

He'd been apprehensive at first as he was aware of an awkwardness that existed between them since he'd broken things
off. Despite this, he'd been pleasantly surprised by Ginny's behaviour; she'd acted as if nothing had happened and their
relationship had reverted back to what it had been at the start of his sixth year before he'd been interested in her
romantically. He was more pleased about this than he could express as Ginny's friendship was something he valued and did
not want to lose. It was a great relief to him that any issues between them had been resolved. He found himself smiling
at the thought.

He only wished he could say the same about Ron and Hermione.

He found his urge to smile suddenly removed. He couldn't put his finger on it but something was definitely awry between
the two of them. For one thing, he'd no idea if they were even an item any more. There was no closeness between them; no
physical contact or intimate moments shared. They had been cooped up in the castle together all week and hadn't shared a
cross word between them. He found this suspicious rather than a cause for optimism. If Ron and Hermione weren't arguing
about something stupid at least some of the time, something was wrong. They were too polite with each other; their
attitude towards each other could best be described as…proper. They bore the mannerisms of two protagonists who had just
fought a duel - polite, civil, formal, yet utterly frigid and stiff. For the life of him he couldn't work out what was
going on between them and it was driving him mad.

Harry had few certainties in his life but one of them was his friendship with Hermione. She was without a doubt the
finest person he knew and he counted himself blessed that she counted him among her closest friends. She was, honest,
sincere, reliable, fiercely loyal and loving and found himself wondering if Ron fully appreciated what he had in front
of him.

He better do.

The relationship between Ron and Hermione was now giving cause for concern. When he wasn't being overly polite in her
company, Ron was morose and irritable. Hermione too wasn't beyond reproach; he didn't think she was being fair to Ron.
Either she wanted to be his girlfriend or she didn't. It wasn't fair to leave the situation open to ambiguity and with
each passing day it became less and less clear just what their relationship was. Ron was Ron and wasn't going to change;
if she couldn't accept him the way he is then it would be better for everyone if she said so now.

He hasn't voiced these concerns to either of them yet but he knew that if things didn't improve he would need to say
something. It wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to. He also knew that he would need to wait until after
tonight before broaching the subject. So much was at stake tonight - they would find out soon enough if Slughorn's
Wolfsbane potion was good enough. If it was - if Snape's notes were that good - then he had no doubt that Hermione would
soon be brewing it herself.

He was nervous about tonight; he knew how important control was to Hermione. Remus had made clear in his journal the
difference the potion made to his life. He only hoped that it would have the same impact on his dearest friend. For now
all he could do was wait.

………………………………………….

Minerva McGonagall glanced out of the window of what she now considered as Hermione's “cell” and watched as the last
rays of the sun slowly began to dip below the horizon. She turned to her favourite student, aware of the gamble she was
undertaking. Having been through this three times already with Hermione, Minerva was aware of the significance of this
night. This time, there would be no chains - only bars.

This was significant because if the Wolfsbane potion did not work, Hermione in her untamed wolf form would ultimately
bite and scratch herself, such would be her frustration and her primal rage. She had actually witnessed this before with
a young Remus Lupin and knew first hand that this process left both deep physical and psychological scars. It was
actually the latter that she feared the most; in her extensive experience, the mind took the longest to heal. She
uttered a silent prayer that this would not happen this time.

`Are you ready?' she asked quietly.

Hermione only nodded as she too turned to watch the dying embers of the sun. `As ready as I'll ever be. You had better
leave.'

Minerva nodded and gave the lock on the bars one final check. `I'll be back once the moon is out.'

`No!!! You mustn't! It's too dangerous.' There was real fear in Hermione's voice.

`I'm afraid that I must,' Minerva calmly replied. `If you think I am waiting all night to find out if this works then
you are clearly not as clever as I thought you were.' Despite the situation, both women smiled at these words. `I will
merely stick my head around the door to check - don't worry; I will not get too close.'

Hermione nodded her acceptance, realising the futility of arguing with the Headmistress once she had made up her mind.
`Thank you,' she whispered.

Minerva gave a brisk nod before turning and stepping out of the room, closed the door and finally sealed the magical
bolts before leaning her head against the thick oak barrier. In around ten minutes they would know for sure. She had no
doubt this would be the longest ten minutes of her life.

………………………………….

Hermione stood in the cold cell and hugged herself in the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders, seeking comfort
when there was little to be found. She was aware of the risks involved tonight; aware that if Slughorn had not brewed
the potion correctly then she could seriously damage herself. Minerva had suggested that she use the chains just to be
sure but Hermione did not want this. She sought control more than anything and would not have this if chained to a wall
- even if she did have control of her mind. She'd weighed up the pros and cons and decided to gamble.

She watched as the first hint of moonlight began to creep in through the window as the sun finally dipped below the
horizon. Closing her eyes she focussed on her breathing as she waited for the first pulse; the first surge that was the
harbinger of her change. Such was her concentration she almost missed it, the same as her first transformation. She
recognised the surge within her, almost welcoming it as she knew that her questions would soon be answered.

She lurched suddenly and fell to her knees as her body convulsed violently. It felt much as before and she experienced
the same inability to control her own movements as the pain once again coursed throughout her body. She gritted her
teeth, determined not to scream as she experienced the familiar stretching sensation as her muscles and sinews were
strained to their limit. She felt herself baring her teeth and watched dispassionately as her fingernails expanded and
turned into claws. She experienced a sudden, final surge of agonising pain, and closed her eyes as panic threatened to
overwhelm her.

Then everything stopped. A long silence stretched for what seemed like an eternity as the wolf form on the floor
breathed deeply.

Then Hermione Granger opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. She slowly stood up, taking a few moments to
maintain her balance. She held her arms out, turning them over as her eyes took in every inch of fur, her eyes widening
in amazement as she beheld her razor sharp claws. It took a few moments for the implications of this to sink in; for the
realization to finally hit.

I am me! I am aware!

Were it not for the limitations of her canine jawbone structure, she would have smiled.

………………………………………….

Minerva McGonagall unsealed the magical bolts on the door, gently prised it open and tentatively peered around the thick
oak planks. She was careful to go nowhere near the iron bars on the other side of the room until she was sure. It took a
few moments for her eyes to become accustomed to the lack of light in the room but once they did she noticed a darker
shape in the far corner. It actually looked like a sack of coal that had been carelessly dumped but as she took a step
into the room there was a sudden movement and Minerva became aware of a set of piercing brown eyes that regarded her
calmly. Daring to hope, she moved closer.

`Hermione?'

In response, the “lump” in the corner moved and stretched and suddenly there was a full size werewolf in front of the
headmistress. Despite the distance between them and the iron bars - not to mention her prior feelings of hope - she took
an involuntary step back. Then the werewolf in front of gently padded across the cell and picked up a blanket before
wrapping it round its shoulders. Then it lay back down again, curling up and closing its eyes as if asleep.

Minerva found herself quietly weeping as she realised the significance of what she was witnessing.

`Oh, Hermione; I'm so happy for you. I'll go and tell Harry and Ron that it worked! They'll be on tenterhooks!'

With these words, she scurried out of the room, sealing the door behind her and rushing off to spread the good news.

On the other side of the door, Hermione closed her eyes and let herself drift off to a contented sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

12. Best Laid Plans

Horace Slughorn had one eye closed as he crouched down over his work bench, squinting as his open eye carefully gauged
his scales as he made sure they balanced perfectly. He was actually whistling some nameless tune to himself but such was
his level of concentration, he was completely oblivious to this fact. The reasons for his ebullient mood were threefold.
On the one hand, he was doing what he did best; working in his lab and using every skill at his disposal to create this
most intricate of potions. A second factor was that his efforts this past week had been entirely successful - the
successive batches of Wolfsbane potion that he had brewed had all been perfect. The evidence for this was the presence
of the brown haired witch who stood next to him in his lab.

This was the third reason for his good mood and also the most gratifying.

When Minerva had approached him with Severus' potions notes and requested that he brew a batch of Wolfsbane potion, he
was both excited and curious. Excited because the thought of having access to these notes meant he would likely become
the pre-eminent Potions Master in the country - despite his personal vanity, he knew that Severus had been his superior
in this department and these notes would help him enormously.

He was also curious, however, because it was evident from Minerva's mien that this was extremely important to her and he
found himself wondering for whom the potion was intended. When he'd eventually discovered that it was for Miss Granger
he'd nearly had a heart attack. Miss Granger was someone that he'd had his eye on ever since Harry Potter had described
her as the best witch in the year. It had not taken long for this claim to be justified; her skill and talent - not to
mention her intelligence - shone through in just about everything she attempted. She would have been a prime candidate
for his little soirees even if she had not been best friends with Harry Potter.

Now she was the most famous witch in Britain and closer to Harry Potter than anyone alive. A true hero of the war and -
apart from Potter himself - one who did more than anyone else to bring down the Dark Lord. That she was a werewolf did
not bother him; he was sure that her future would be golden, providing she did not advertise her condition.

And now she was beholden to him. Not only was he brewing her potion, he was entrusted with keeping her secret. It was
something he fully intended to do - there was no way he was going to blow the chance to “collect” the two of the most
famous people in the magical world. Besides, the chances of her enjoying a golden future would be enhanced if the secret
could be maintained. He'd learned a long time ago that gratitude was powerful coin and he had no intention of blowing
this windfall.

She'd actually embraced him when she'd entered his lab this morning. Her joy and laughter had been infectious and her
gratitude obvious and sincere. When she had asked if he could teach her how to brew the Wolfsbane potion he'd been only
too happy to agree. Things were certainly looking up; if Miss Granger could be counted as one of his allies then Mr
Potter would be sure to follow.

He brought himself out of his reverie, realising that he had to focus on the job at hand. He examined the scales again
and gave a satisfied nod, content that the ingredients were perfectly balanced. He carefully removed them and inserted
them into little dishes before placing them on his laboratory bench in the correct order.

`You see, my dear, to successfully brew any potion, the preparatory work is crucial. Whether the potion is simple or -
as in this case - the most complicated, it is vital that you follow the same procedure. I have carefully measured out
every ingredient and placed them in the correct order. This greatly reduces the chance of error.'

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. She well knew the importance of good preparation; it was why she was a good
potions brewer herself. But she decided to indulge the professor for now. He had many, many faults but by successfully
brewing the Wolfsbane and thus ensuring she retained control, she could forgive him a lot. Besides, she was in such a
good mood this morning she wasn't going to let anything spoil it.

When Minerva had unsealed the magical bolts at dawn and entered the cell, they had embraced, their relief obvious. While
the pain of transformation remained, the fact that she retained control was everything to her. She could even remember
when Minerva had checked on her - despite being in her wolf form she had recognised the headmistress and had felt the
same sense of love and respect she always did when contemplating her friend. This meant more to her than Slughorn would
ever know so she would cut him a lot of slack. She'd do everything in her power to make sure Harry and Ron did too.

She shook herself out of her thoughts and contemplated the workbench in front of her. The sheer volume of ingredients
involved told her that this would be the most complicated potion she'd ever attempted and would need her full
concentration. Everywhere she looked was beakers and dishes all filled with herbs and roots, berries and fungi and all
carefully arranged in a specific order. Not only that, every ingredient had been carefully weighed or counted three
times to make sure the exact amount was available. It was a methodical and time consuming task but it had to be done for
if even one item was missing, if even one measurement was wrong, the potion wouldn't work.

Slughorn had explained that as a synodic month - the time between full moons - was 29 days, the number 29 played a
significant role when brewing the potion. 29 clockwise stirs; 29 juniper berries; 29 aconite leaves; 29 grams of
moonseed - the list went on and on and for once in her life she felt intimidated by the intellectual challenge that
faced her. Her respect for Slughorn went up another notch.

She turned suddenly, reacting to a knock on the door of the Potions lab. Glancing over, she noticed a look of annoyance
flash on the features of Slughorn. He had specifically asked not to be disturbed due to the levels of concentration
required.

`Miss Granger, please note down that the last ingredient I have placed in the cauldron was the moonseed. It is vital
that we do not lose our place or we will need to start again.'

Hermione nodded and jotted down “moonseed added” into her notebook as Slughorn crossed the room and opened the door. His
scowl was soon replaced by a beaming smile.

`Harry, my boy! Great to see you! Do come in, do come in,' he added as he ushered his star “collectable” into the lab.
He completely ignored Minerva and Ron who accompanied him and also missed the grim looks on their faces such was his
delight at seeing Harry. Hermione never missed it. She didn't miss much these days.

`What is it?' she asked, and there was a touch of fear in her voice as she viewed their expressions. She would have
known from their faces that something was wrong but there was no hiding from her heightened senses. He was worried;
really worried. So was everyone else, but Harry's scent seemed to block out all else. `What's wrong?'

Harry didn't know how to reply - he felt sick to his core. Last night he'd been so happy but that feeling had soon
turned to ashes. Last night he and Ron had stood waiting in in the common room when the Headmistress had burst in with
the good news about Hermione. To say that he had been relieved at her tidings was an understatement; he'd actually found
himself crying, something he'd been doing quite a lot of lately. He guessed Hermione just had that effect on him at
times.

There had been no cheering - instead a quiet satisfaction that things could only get better for their dear friend. He'd
also vowed at that moment to cut Slughorn some slack because no matter how nauseating he found the whole idea of the
“Slug Club” his success at brewing the potion made up for so much. He and Ron had been a much happier pair of friends
that had headed to bed that night and both had slept much better than was the norm of late.

That happiness had been short-lived though and it was with a sense of dread that he tried to work out what to say to his
friend. He, Ron and Minerva had argued at length this morning until he'd finally prevailed. Now it was time to see if he
was right.

`There's been an attack,' he said quietly.

`An attack?'

He nodded, unsure how to continue. Typically, he was spared from any further pain as he watched her work it out. Her
face changed from one of curiosity to a grimace of understanding.

She always was too clever for her own good.

`A werewolf attack?' she asked tentatively.

Harry nodded.

`Where? Who?' she demanded. Her tone was impossible to decipher. It was flat, devoid of emotion.

`A young family in the Peak District. No one we know, but that doesn't matter. They were someone's loved ones. They were
cut to pieces.'

She nodded absently, aware that there was something else they were not telling her, aware too that she felt as if the
walls were closing in around her. Once again though, her intelligence served her well.

`Greyback?' she whispered.

Harry nodded. `Bill visited the scene. He confirmed it was Greyback's scent.' He licked his lips, and Hermione knew
there was more to come. `It's in today's Prophet.'

She nodded her understanding. `May I see? Do you have a copy?'

All his life Harry had hated it when people kept things from him. Dumbledore had been particularly guilty in this regard
but he was not the only one. As a result, he believed in full disclosure regardless how bad the tidings were. This is
what he, Ron and Minerva had been arguing about earlier. He had won in the end but as he passed the newspaper to his
friend and watched her reaction as she read the lurid headlines, it felt like a defeat.

Hermione's hand trembled as she read the front page of the paper Harry had given her. She could hardly believe what she
was reading.

Massacre!

The magical world was thrown back into chaos today after the horrific attack on a young family by a werewolf or
werewolves unknown. Matthias Cook (36), his wife Sylvia (34) and their two children Henry (5) and Susan (3) were
brutally slain in a savage attack at their home in the Peak District last night. Preliminary investigations leave no
doubt that at least one of the perpetrators was a werewolf with one of the attending Aurors describing the scene as a
“slaughterhouse.”

Despite the recent victory over the Dark Lord, these vile creatures seem hell-bent on continuing the war and this
newspaper believes that we must eradicate this filth from our midst if we are ever to achieve peace.

Acting Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt was not available for comment but it is anticipated he will take a hard
line with werewolves…

She stopped reading, suddenly feeling light-headed and she felt herself stumbling, only preventing herself from falling
by throwing her arm out onto the potions bench for support. Harry quickly moved in to help, placing his arms around her
and sweeping her away from the bench towards a seat in the corner. All eyes were on Hermione to the exclusion of all
else. Ron quickly got her a glass of water and thrust it into her hands.

Hermione vaguely nodded her thanks and took a long drink. She closed her eyes as the implications of the attack hit
home. Finally she managed to speak. `What will happen now, do you think?'

Harry wasn't sure how to answer that but was saved from possibly making things worse with uninformed comment by Minerva
answering for him.

`It's hard to tell, Hermione. Don't believe everything you read in that rag - it's pushing its own agenda. Kingsley will
take a hard line with Greyback and anyone else who is involved but he won't use this as ammunition for a blanket attack
on all werewolves. That's not his style.'

`Other people will want him to though - powerful people,' Hermione replied. `Kingsley said so himself; as Provisional
Minister his position is relatively weak. This could be used against him.'

Minerva nodded. `I know. I just hope there are no more attacks any time soon. In the meantime, I suggest that you keep
news of your own condition to as small a circle of trusted friends as possible. This is not the time to publicly reveal
your lycanthropy.'

Hermione could only nod her agreement at that assessment. She was almost used to the prejudice that being a muggleborn
brought from some quarters. She didn't think she could cope with the vitriol that would come her way if this news got
out. She glanced at her black haired friend.

Not even Harry could help me with that.

This realisation helped to galvanise her resolve. She stood up. `Professor Slughorn? If you are ready, I'd like to
continue with the lesson? I believe the last ingredient we added was the moonseed?' Her voice was proper - too proper-
and she could sense that Harry could see right through her and the mask she was constructing.

Slughorn seemed to be shaken out of a trance by the question. While clearly rattled by the tidings he appreciated what
Miss granger was doing - getting things back to as normal as she could. `Of course, Miss Granger, moonseed it was; let
us move on to the next stage,' he added as he returned to the bench.

Hermione noticed the look of concern in Harry's eyes. `I'll be OK, Harry,' she began. `We can talk about this later; for
now I just want to learn how to brew this potion. Is that alright?'

`Of course it is,' he replied, his voice thick. `You get back to work; we can talk later.'

She smiled at him before turning back to the ingredients in front of her. As Harry and the others left the lab she could
sense his despair, his anxiety, his concern and even his love. She didn't miss much these days. If there was one
consolation in all of this it was that she didn't miss much anymore.

Unfortunately, one thing she did miss was the solitary juniper berry that had been knocked out of its dish and had
rolled onto the floor in all the commotion. It would be no consolation to her later on when it was finally discovered
that everyone else had missed it too.

…………………………………………

Ginny Weasley was starting to get really annoyed; nothing seemed to be going right at the moment. Her plan had started
well enough; when she'd heard that Ron, Harry and Hermione were going to help with the rebuilding of Hogwarts she'd made
sure that she went with them. She'd truthfully told her mum and dad that she needed to get out of the house as the grief
over Fred that everyone was feeling - including her - was suffocating. She needed a change of environment and Hogwarts
provided the perfect solution.

This was all true; she did need to get out of the house and she did need something to take her mind off Fred. This was a
reason for her wanting to leave home and spend time with her friends.

But not the only reason; there was of course Harry.

If she was honest with herself, her patience was wearing a bit thin. She'd expected Harry to have come running back to
her by now, begging forgiveness and declaring his undying love, but this perfect moment was not yet forthcoming. She was
also losing patience with Ron as his relationship with Hermione seemed to be disappearing under a wave of apathy and she
knew that her own chances of success were intrinsically linked to her brother's. If Ron and Hermione were successful as
a couple, Harry would relax and stop worrying about his friends. This in turn would improve her own chances as Harry
would seek company elsewhere. Pretty soon, she was sure, he would realise what he was missing.

She was also uncomfortably aware that she wanted Ron and Hermione to hook up because that would permanently take
Hermione off the market - there was no way Harry would move in on his best mate's girl. Despite the reassurances she had
given to Ron a few weeks ago, she did worry about the relationship between Harry and Hermione. It did not seem natural
to her that a male and female could be that close - could have such strong bonds between them - without there being a
romantic element too. If she was really honest with herself - and she hated being really honest in such things - she was
extremely jealous of Hermione. Her friend was clever, attractive and - crucially - closer to Harry than anyone else
alive. Only Ron could assuage this jealousy and only if he could get his act together and snag Hermione for good.

And there was also the fact that Hermione had not slept in her dorm bed last night. All her friend had said when asked
was that she was working on a project that meant she had to sleep elsewhere for a few nights. The curiosity was killing
her; both with Hermione's mystery project and her relationship with her brother.

She'd broached the subject with Ron only to be told that there were other factors affecting things at the moment;
factors he could not tell her about. This just served to annoy her even more. She wasn't stupid; she knew something was
going on with the three of them but she could not work out what it was. In her frustration, she'd decided to take
matters into her own hands. If Ron and Hermione couldn't see what needed to be done for the good of everyone, she'd have
to give them a little nudge.

With this thought in mind, Ginny allowed herself a small smile. She had managed to acquire something that sooner or
later would grant her the opportunity to administer this little nudge. She just hoped for her sake that it would be
sooner.

………………………………………

Hermione felt uncomfortable as she headed towards her usual “cell” in the bowels of the castle. She was accompanied by
Ron and the two of them walked in step about a yard apart. They were early, for sunset was still nearly an hour away,
but she thought that it would be a good opportunity for her and Ron to spend some time alone. In any other
circumstances, she might have found it amusing but her PLT was playing up and she found that she lacked the patience to
see the funny side of anything at the moment.

She'd been surprised when Ron had asked if she wanted some company as he had not seemed that interested of late and she
wondered at his change of heart. She was aware that she hadn't been fair to Ron recently. Despite their reconciliation
after her return from Australia, they had not moved their relationship on to the next level. They were living in a
middle ground where they were not exactly just friends but where they were not quite boyfriend/girlfriend either. Ron
seemed too nervous to raise the issue with her and with everything that had being going on recently she found that their
romantic relationship was now down around number 17 in her list of priorities. Somewhere between “polish wand” and “buy
toothpaste,” she reckoned.

They were drowning in apathy.

She decided to make an effort to break the awkward silence between them but found that the only thing she had to talk
about was what they were doing right now.

`The headmistress has told me that she has arranged to have the bars removed from my room. She said that she wanted the
place to be more comfortable but I'm not sure it's worth the effort.'

`Of course it's worth the effort,' Ron replied. `Anything that reminds you that you are still Hermione Granger instead
of…what you become, is a good thing in my opinion.' He hesitated for a moment. `Was it difficult last night? You
know…being aware that you were in your other form?'

`Oh, Ron; don't you get it?' she asked. `It was much, much easier for me last night. It was strange at first recognising
myself in that form - I'm glad there are no mirrors in my room because I don't really want to see what I look like. But
it was much, much better. I am in full control so it's still me. Before I took the potion, I was lost - the beast just
supressed me and I couldn't do a thing about it. It's the worst feeling in the world to lose awareness and control like
that. This potion is a godsend.'

She'd already taken her dose for tonight's transformation - tasting as horrible as ever - and as they finally arrived at
the dungeon she felt more optimistic than she had for a long time despite the horrible news from the Peak District. As
she opened the door she made a mental note to thank Minerva when she saw her in the morning. The room looked
almost…homely.

Instead of the cold, stone floor, the headmistress had arranged to have some rugs thrown down and not only were there
numerous blankets available, there was also a number of scarlet and gold cushions scattered around the room. The most
obvious difference, however, was the lack of bars in the room and she was surprised at how much better this made her
feel. She wasn't being treated like some beast in a cage; the room was laid out for her almost as a guest. It made a
huge difference and she felt a smile break out despite the ordeal that lay ahead.

She turned to Ron. `Can you stay for a while longer?' she asked. `I think we need some time to ourselves,' she added
quietly.

Ron nodded his agreement and quietly closed the door behind them. There was much to discuss.

………………………………………….

Horace Slughorn allowed himself a contended sigh as he slumped into the high-backed armchair in front of the fire in his
potions lab. It had been an intense week and he felt that he deserved the glass of malt whisky that he had just poured
for himself. For the past seven days his skill as a potion master had been put to the most severe test and he was
delighted to have passed with flying colours.

He glanced around his lab - his personal domain. He knew he was a vain and fastidious person but he was also aware that
this personality trait was what made him so good at potions. Severus Snape was another who shared this trait and it was
no coincidence that he had been such a good man with a cauldron. Being fastidious meant doing things right first time,
every time.

It also meant that he had an obsession with cleanliness and order. As a result, when he glanced around his lab he almost
purred with contentment as he viewed the spotless potions bench; the washed and stacked dishes and beakers; the
immaculately swept stone floor…

He sat up abruptly as something caught his eye under his workbench but when he looked closer he couldn't see anything.
He thought that he must have imagined it - that it was a trick of the flickering light - but the fussy trait that in
part defined him prompted him to investigate further. With a mounting feeling that something was wrong, Horace stood and
made his way over to the bench, removing his wand from his robes as he did so.

`Lumos,' he muttered.

There was something there. Adjusting his ample girth, Horace crouched as low as he could and stretched out his fat
fingers, gently gathering the object into his hand. He stood up and stared intently at what he beheld.

It was a juniper berry. A solitary juniper berry and it was with a mounting sense of horror that Horace realised what
this meant. He was a fastidious man - fastidious to a fault. Every day he cleaned and checked his lab and every day he
left it in a state of perfect cleanliness. This meant that this berry must have somehow fallen on the floor today and
that meant…

Horace raced out of the door as fast as his short legs would carry him. It meant that only 28 juniper berries were added
to the Wolfsbane Potion.

It meant that the potion wouldn't work.

………………………………………….

Ginny congratulated herself on her patience as she carefully made her way through the corridors of Hogwarts. She'd known
that her chance would come up sooner or later and was gratified that it had arrived sooner. She'd been sitting on her
bed in Gryffindor Tower staring at the Marauder's Map in wonder. When she'd first heard of the map's existence she'd
been sceptical but when Harry had shown her what it could do she'd struggled to contain her excitement at the
possibilities it offered. When she'd asked Harry if she could borrow it he'd been only too happy to agree and she
suspected that this was because he still felt a bit guilty over ending things between them. This didn't bother her;
she'd use any tool she could to get him back.

Earlier today she'd managed to convince Ron to speak to Hermione and as she sat looking at the map she'd been pleased to
see that he was following her advice - two sets of footprints identifying Ron and Hermione could be seen walking
together. It was where they were going that piqued her curiosity.

This was why she now found herself quietly walking down a stretch of Hogwarts' corridor that she'd never seen before,
the map guiding her footsteps towards her destination. This part of the castle was ancient; she could feel the history
emanating from the old stones that surrounded her and she felt a sudden chill even though it was a warm, early summer
evening.

She stopped abruptly, realising that Ron and Hermione had entered a room at the end of the corridor. Moving as quietly
as she could, she peered around a large stone pillar and noticed a large oak door, closed but not sealed with the two
magical bolts that adorned it. She really was curious now; she'd had no idea that this room existed and she wondered
what it was for.

She edged towards the door, finally putting her ear up against it in an attempt to find out what was going on. She could
hear a few mumbled words from within.

`It seems very comfortable, Hermione. McGonagall's done a grand job with this. You'll be fine sleeping in here tonight.'

She recognised Ron's voice and wondered. Then she was suddenly startled by what she heard next.

`Ron, I think Ginny is standing outside. You didn't tell her anything, did you?'

Ginny panicked. How does she know that I'm here? Her plan to keep Ron and Hermione together was supposed to be a secret
- she couldn't bear the embarrassment of facing them at the moment - especially Hermione. What she really wanted was to
make sure they had a chance to sort things out without interruption. She was only trying to help them, after all. She
did the only thing that seemed likely to achieve this and would also get her out of an awkward conversation.

She slid the magical bolts into place.

`I'll be back in an hour!' she shouted through the door, making a joke of the situation. `You two get cosy and I'll let
you out in an hour!'

Happy with her prank, Ginny made her way back towards the common room, vowing to let them out in an hours' time. They
might be a bit annoyed at her but she was confident that they would thank her in the long run. They had a full hour to
comfort each other she thought with a smile.

She glanced out of a window as she passed noticing that the sun would be setting soon and she reckoned the moon would be
out in around ten minutes.

It promised to be a lovely night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

13. Transformation

Hermione watched as Ron quietly closed the door to her “cell” and tried to ignore the sudden feeling of nervousness she
was experiencing. She told herself that her nerves were simply because she was about to experience what could be an
uncomfortable conversation with Ron but something else was niggling at her, worrying away at the edge of her mind like a
dog gnawing on a bone. She'd always prided herself on her reason and on her logic and - despite the sheer wonder of the
magical world - still held a very sceptical view of things that some people considered “mysterious” or “supernatural.”
As a child when she'd first seen Hamlet and had heard the famous quote “There are more things in heaven and earth,
Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” she'd wanted to get up on stage and debate the point with the actor. As
far as she was concerned, everything could be explained with logic and reason.

At least, that was what she used to think.

Since being bitten and undergoing her first transformation, she'd been forced to accept that there are indeed other
factors at play in the world. For one thing, she was now convinced that she had developed a sixth sense for danger and
that sense was setting off a massive alarm bell in her head at the moment. She knew something was wrong. She just didn't
know what, nor could she explain how she knew.

`Are you OK, Hermione?'

She jolted out of her reverie at Ron's question and offered him a tremulous smile.

`I'm fine, Ron, thanks. I guess I'm still not used to all this,' she added, sweeping her arm around the room as she
spoke.

`It seems very comfortable. McGonagall's done a grand job with this. You'll be fine sleeping in here tonight,' replied
Ron.

Hermione smiled again at his attempts to remain cheerful for her sake and made to reply but suddenly froze as her sense
of smell was suddenly telling her something that could not be true. She focussed for a second, blocking out everything
else as she picked up on the scent that had suddenly encroached on her senses.

`Ron, I think Ginny is standing outside. You didn't tell her anything, did you?'

She could tell from the surprised look on his face that Ron hadn't said a word. Damn it! Ginny must have followed us.
She made for the door only to feel her heart stop in her chest as she recognised the sound of the magical bolts being
slid into place.

`I'll be back in an hour! You two get cosy and I'll let you out in an hour!' They both heard the muffled voice of Ginny
through the door. Through the locked door.

Oh, shit, Ginny; no! Hermione raced for the door but her nose was already telling her that Ginny was gone. She pounded
her fists on the oak panels.

`GINNY! GINNY! OPEN THE DOOR! YOU HAVE TO OPEN THE DOOR'

She stopped the pounding and rested her head against the door before slowly turning and facing Ron, noticing the look of
mounting horror on his face as the realisation dawned.

`She's gone.'

`Gone?' replied Ron. `Can you not open the door?' He took his wand out of his pocket.

`Alohomora!'

Nothing.

`Alohomora! Alohomora! ALOHOMORA!' cried Ron with a mounting degree of panic.

`It's no use, Ron. Those bolts are impervious to magic. That won't work.' She was amazed at how calm she sounded despite
the feeling of impending doom that threatened to overwhelm her. She waited until Ron turned to face her before
continuing. She stole a quick glance through the barred window.

`We have about ten minutes until I change,' she said grimly. `I've taken my potion so we should be fine. I'll still be
in control so there is no need to worry.'

Ron swallowed hard at these words, seeking reassurance. `You'll have full control?'

Hermione bit back the urge to snap at him. I just said so, didn't I? she thought to herself. But losing her temper would
not help the situation. She nodded her head. `I'll be in full control. I'll just go to sleep and I suggest you just sit
tight until Ginny comes back in an hour. I won't be much company anyway.' She smiled grimly. `This isn't exactly how I
planned our talk to go.'

`I'm going to murder Ginny when I see her,' said Ron, his anger beginning to replace his fear. `What the hell does she
think she's doing?'

`She doesn't know about my condition,' Hermione replied. `It's not her fault. She's just pulling a prank.'

`That's got nothing to do with it!' snapped Ron. `She shouldn't be following us and she certainly shouldn't be locking
us up in a room! That's taking pranking too far!' He paused for a moment as he calmed down a bit. `She's going to find
out about your condition too,' he added.

Hermione started in surprise as this had not occurred to her. She shrugged her shoulders. `It's not how I would want her
to find out but I would have told her soon enough anyway.' She paused to gather her thoughts, surprised at how calm she
sounded despite every fibre of her being telling her that something bad was going to happen. `I guess this is something
that we were going to have to deal with sooner or later too. I mean…if we are to be together then I guess you'll have to
get used to this. I mean, I can't stay at Hogwarts my whole life…I'll need to…I'll…'

For once she found herself at a loss for words as she struggled to say what was on her mind. For once, Ron had the sense
not to interrupt.

`I didn't ever want you to see me transform,' she finally managed to say, looking at her feet as she did so.

`What?'

`I never wanted you to see me change. I guess I can handle you seeing me in my wolf form, but the transformation is
horrible and I never wanted you to witness that.' She looked at Ron and could see that he did not understand why this
was important to her. Not only was the transformation painful and something she wanted to protect him from, it was also
the moment that her curse was at its height, when she was powerless to fight it - with or without the Wolfsbane potion.
She didn't want anyone to see her that vulnerable. Not even Ron. `Would you mind looking away when I change?' she asked
in a small voice.

Ron knew that he was not the most sensitive of people but even he recognised a plea from the heart when he heard one. He
nodded his head.

`I'll turn around and close my eyes,' he replied. `Promise.'

Surprisingly Hermione smiled at his words before the two of them turned to gaze out of the window towards the setting
sun.

Not long now.

………………………………

Harry briefly paused as he headed towards the Gryffindor common room, taking a moment to stop and gaze out of the window
at the sun slowly setting below the western mountains. For all that the Highlands of Scotland could produce some
extremely brutal weather Harry appreciated the fact that when it was nice, such as tonight, one could enjoy some of the
finest scenery to be found anywhere. As he gazed out over the scene before him, he felt a sense of peace that he had not
experienced in quite some time.

His peace was broken, however, by the sound of footsteps. Turning to his right, he was surprised to see Professor
Slughorn approaching, his short, stubby legs moving as fast as Harry had ever seen. While Slughorn could not be said to
be particularly mobile, there was no doubt that the shambling, awkward gait the professor now displayed actually passed
for what could be classed as running.

Something was clearly wrong if Horace Slughorn was running.

`Harry!...Harry…must speak to…Granger,' wheezed Slughorn as he struggled to get his breath back. He held out his hand,
palm open. `I found this!' he finally managed to exclaim.

With a bemused expression on his face, Harry took the small object from Slughorn and examined it closely. `Forgive me,
Professor,' he began, `but this looks like a juniper berry to me?'

`It is a juniper berry,' wheezed Slughorn, doubled over, his hands on his knees. `We're in trouble. Granger is in
trouble,' he added as he straightened himself up.

Harry's bemused look disappeared immediately at the thought of Hermione in trouble. He still could not understand what
was going on though, and struggled to maintain calm. `Once again, Professor, you will have to forgive my ignorance. What
is the significance of this particular berry?'

`It was supposed to be in Granger's potion. I found it on the floor of my lab but it should have gone into the potion.'

`Is that important?' Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

`YES! Don't you understand? The potion won't work unless brewed perfectly.'

Harry turned to look out of the window again before glancing at his watch. He had the relevant sunset times memorised
for the next six months. There was less than five minutes left before Hermione would be affected, maybe not even that.
He closed his eyes, knowing that what she feared most of all - losing control - was about to befall her once again. His
mind was awhirl with thoughts and questions but a few in particular were pushing all others to one side.

What do I do now? Do I warn her? Is there any point in warning her because it won't change anything?

He wondered where Ron was, wishing his friend was with him at the moment, even if only to share the anguish. Just as he
found himself wondering if it was worth racing to tell Hermione the news, he heard footsteps approaching from around the
corner and turned to face his friend.

`Ron!'

But it wasn't Ron, it was Ginny who appeared and judging from the sudden look of guilt that appeared on her face at
hearing her brother's name, Harry knew something was wrong.

`Where's Ron?' Harry snapped.

Ginny sensed immediately that Harry was in no mood for deflection. His body positively bristled with tension; he was
like a coiled spring.

`He's with Hermione,' she replied quietly.

`He can't be,' Harry replied tersely.

`He is. I left them a few minutes ago.'

`Left them where?' asked Harry, a tone of dread creeping into his voice.

`Left them in that room underneath the castle. I suppose you already know about it?' She had tried to make the last
question sound accusatory but instead it came across as petulant. Childish. She was suddenly aware only of a pair of
bright green eyes that bored in on her, almost looking into her, such was their intensity. `I…I…locked them in. You
know, for a joke?' she added, a beseeching look on her face. She finally turned away, unable to meet his stare.

Time froze for Harry. He suddenly felt the urge to vomit, experienced a blackness encroaching on his vision as he
struggled to even breathe. With panic rising within him like an unleashed beast, he felt as if he was somehow outside of
reality, that he was a spectator watching events rather than a key participant. His mind ceased to function for a few
moments but he was fortunate that instinct had already kicked in. After staring at Ginny for what seemed like an age, he
suddenly turned and started sprinting down the corridor as fast as he had ever ran in his entire life.

……………………………………..

Hermione glanced out of the window before closing her eyes. She could feel the pull of the lunar cycle and was becoming
familiar with the sensations that accompanied her change. She knew now that it was only a matter of moments.

`Can you look away now, Ron?' she asked quietly without turning to face him.

`No problem' replied Ron. `I'll face the wall and close my eyes. I guess I'll be able to work out when it's OK to look,'
he added.

Hermione nodded her thanks but did not turn to face him. She breathed deeply and steadily as she waited, her irritation
beginning to get the better of her. Ron should not be here! She couldn't really blame Ginny as she did not know what was
going on but part of her was angry at the redhead for pulling such a stupid prank. Ron could have been in great danger.

Thank God for the potion.

She should have been comforted by that fact but her senses were screaming at her that not everything was as it should
be. She didn't know why but she was quickly learning to trust her instincts and they were all saying the same thing to
her at the moment.

Something was wrong. Really wrong.

Such was her feeling of unease she almost missed it. She opened her eyes in response to the now familiar surge within
her but just as she was trying to decide what to do next she lurched suddenly and fell to her hands and knees, her back
arched in pain. Her head turned up to the ceiling as the first moments of agony assailed her and she balled her hands
into fists, breathing hard as she did so, fighting with every sinew not to cry out.

It was at that moment that realisation began to dawn on her. She felt another surge through her veins but this time she
could feel the beast within her as it started to dominate her reason and rationality.

Oh, God. That's not right! That shouldn't be happening!

She finally let go and screamed but recognised the howl creeping into her cries and some distant part of her mind
realised that she was losing control. That the potion wasn't working.

`Ron! Ron!' She gritted her teeth, every word uttered a victory of sorts for her humanity.
`You…have…to…get…out…of…here,' she gasped. `The potion…hasn't…worked…run away...'

She splayed herself on the floor, feeling herself baring her teeth as she fought for control. She retained just enough
of herself for now to know that she had to win this fight or Ron could die. She also knew that she could not, would not,
win this fight.

That was the last conscious thought of Hermione Granger as, with another surge of agonising pain, the beast took over.

The first thing the beast did was turn to see if it could find the source of the strange scent that told it there was
fresh meat nearby.

………………………………….

Ron couldn't remember feeling more uncomfortable in his entire life. He was aware that as a wizard, his life was
stranger than most. He would also admit to anyone that even by magical standards, his life could hardly be considered
normal. Being best friend to Harry Potter meant that he had found himself in situations that most people - magical or
otherwise - couldn't begin to imagine.

But staring at a stone wall in a locked cell while behind him, his girlfriend transformed into a werewolf probably took
the prize for most surreal moment of his life.

I'm going to kill Ginny he thought for the umpteenth time. He was actually worried as he knew that even with Hermione in
control, sharing a room with a werewolf was an extremely intimidating and dangerous thing to face.

Well, slightly more intimidating and dangerous than Hermione usually is, he thought to himself with a chuckle.

The small smile on his face was suddenly removed when he heard a noise behind him that he suspected was Hermione falling
to the ground on all fours. It took all of his willpower not to turn round to see if she was OK; Hermione had been
adamant about that and he would respect her wishes. He could hear her breathing intensify and hoped that the
transformation would not take much longer.

He heard her scream and found himself almost in tears as he recognised a distinctive howl in her voice. Now he knew why
she didn't want him to witness this. It was simply torture.

He closed his eyes tightly, wishing it over when suddenly he heard her speak and her words chilled him to the bone.

`Ron! Ron! You…have…to…get…out…of…here. The potion…hasn't…worked…run away…'

Ron turned in horror to face his girlfriend and he wondered how he was still able to function as the true meaning of her
words hit him. I could die here.

I will die here.

He watched as she splayed herself on the floor, as her teeth bared and turned into great canine incisors that he knew
would rip his flesh to shreds. He found himself surprised at his ability to retain rational thought despite the terror
that threatened to overwhelm him. There was no point in trying to get out, he knew; no point in running as there was
nowhere to run to. The room was magically sealed and Ron Weasley felt like an onlooker at his own execution as he
watched the - now wolf - body finally relax in front of him and slowly begin to rise, it's back to him. He cautiously
held his wand out in front of him at the ready. But he didn't fire straight away. He had to be sure.

`Hermione?'

There was no initial response, but finally the beast lifted its head and sniffed the air. It turned slowly and hunkered
down on all fours as it regarded the creature in front of it. It circled hesitantly in an anti-clockwise direction as if
suspecting some kind of trap but it did not take its eyes off Ron for even a second. Ron found himself starting to
circle too, moving with corresponding steps in time with the beast.

`Hermione? Are you in there?'

In response, the beast merely growled and rested on its back legs. Ron knew what was coming next.

`STUPEFY' he cried, just as the beast pounced and he felt no remorse as his spell struck his assailant in the chest.

This isn't Hermione. This thing will kill you, he told himself.

He'd fired his most powerful stunner but it had little effect. Instead of knocking the wolf off its feet and rendering
it unconscious, it had merely stalled the pounce resulting in the first lunge falling a few feet short. He watched in
horror and backed away as the wolf shook itself and got ready to pounce for a second time. Ron Weasley saw death in
front of him.

It was at that moment that everything changed. Something distracted the wolf and it paused in its advance, cocking its
head to one side and sniffing the air again. Ron thought that it seemed rather unsure of itself. After a few moments it
seemed satisfied that nothing was awry and turned to face him once again, readying itself to pounce. Ron raised his wand
once more, amazed that his arm remained steady, but just as he was about to fire for a second time, the door to the cell
suddenly burst open and Harry raced into the room.

`STUPEFY! STUPEFY!' Harry cried and this time the beast was knocked backwards by the double spell blast, staggering to
maintain balance before eventually falling to its knees. Ron found himself being grabbed by the shoulder and shoved
towards the door.

`MOVE!' cried Harry as he pushed his friend between the shoulder blades and followed him. They had nearly made it to the
door when the beast recovered from Harry's attack. It pounced for a third time and on this occasion it finally found its
mark. It crashed into Harry, sinking its teeth into his shoulder as it knocked him to the ground.

Harry cried out in agony as he fell but retained the presence of mind to place his wand right under the jaw of the wolf,
even as moved to take another bite.

`STUPEFY!' he cried once again and this time, the wolf was blasted across the room, such was the force of the spell
allied to the proximity of the wand to the target. It struck its head on the stone wall and crumpled to the floor in a
heap, obviously unconscious.

A horrible silence descended on the room that seemed to last for an eternity, a silence that was finally broken only
when Ginny entered the cell, her eyes widening in horror as she took in the scene; took in the shocked look on Ron's
face; Harry sitting on the floor holding his shoulder and finally, took in the werewolf lying unconscious in the corner.

`Is that…Hermione?' she asked, tears starting to fall as she realised what had happened here.

Harry gritted his teeth. `Yes. Now bind her and stun her again. Then get out of here. Both of you.'

No one moved.

`DO IT!!' he screamed. `Get out of here - there's no time left.'

`T…t…time?' stammered Ron. `What do you mean?' he asked.

Harry looked him straight in the eye and grimaced. `You know what I mean, Ron,' he answered quietly. He removed his left
hand from his right shoulder and suddenly Ron and Ginny could see the wound beneath the shredded clothes, could see the
teeth marks and the blood.

`I can feel myself changing,' Harry said, breathing hard. `It won't be long; get Hermione bound, get me stunned and
bound and then get the hell out of this room. You need to do this right now!!!'

Ron stared aghast at his friend, the truth of his words sinking in. He saw Ginny fall to her knees but knew they did not
have the luxury of grief at the moment. He grabbed his sister and roughly pulled her to her feet and dragged her out of
the cell. Moving as quickly as he could, he re-entered the room and fired three more stunners at Hermione before casting
an Incarcerous on her, binding her with thick ropes. Then he turned to Harry and he could see the strain on his
features. He raised his wand but hesitated a moment.

`Are you sure?' he asked quietly.

Harry nodded, gritting his teeth as he did so. `I can feel it, Ron. There's not much time left. Bind me and stun me and
get the hell out of here before it's too late.' As if to prove his point, his body gave a sudden convulsion and he cried
out in agony.

Ron was oblivious to the tears that rolled down his cheeks as he once again raised his wand. As Harry convulsed for a
second time he fired another stunner that blasted his friend into unconscious oblivion. He watched as Harry - despite
being knocked out - transformed into a werewolf then he bound him tight and levitated him onto the nearby cushions,
covering him with a blanket before hitting him with another couple of stunners. Then he took a moment to move Hermione
onto some cushions and covering her too before he headed to the door.

He turned and took one last look at the beasts that he knew were his two best friends and felt his heart breaking.

How do we recover from this? He asked himself in despair.

He closed the door and slowly slid the magical bolts home and as the last one fell into place it felt as if he was
sealing a tomb.

How do we recover from this?
