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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.

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