Unofficial Portkey Archive

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.

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