Unofficial Portkey Archive

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 3^rd 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 10^th 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.

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