Once Bitten, Twice Shy by Barton Fink

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 03/02/2016
Last Updated: 10/10/2016
Status: In Progress

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.




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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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**!* *A**nd 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.
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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;* t*here'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* *n**ever* *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 fo**r 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?*
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-->



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 a**t least the**re 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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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.
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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 30**th* *1**97**4*

*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 n**ever
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 pe**t. 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 29**th* *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 recoi**l!* *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 despise**d* *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 25**th* *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,* *D**ear* *D**iary;
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.
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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.
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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.
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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?*
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