1

Full Moon

He was running through the forest, running from something, something terrifying, but what? It was cold, late, he hurt, and he wasn't alone. She was with him, running and scared, but of what? Professor Lupin! They were running from Lupin as a Werewolf. Harry remembered now, he and Hermione had come back in time, saved Buckbeak, then she had called Professor Lupin after he'd changed. Doing so had saved Sirius's life. Now if only she'd had a plan for how they were going to get away from him.

Harry jerked as Hermione pulled him behind a tree. He started to ask her what she thought she was doing but she hugged him close and her hand covering his mouth stopped him. He blushed a bit, feeling her this close. She'd grown this year, grown into a young woman, a very pretty young woman, but he shoved those thoughts down. She looked over his shoulder, checking behind them, then relaxed a little.

"I think we lost him," She whispered, "Try to stay quiet just in case."

He nodded weakly, and her hand dropped from his mouth. He closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. As he did so, he realized she hadn't stopped holding him. He savored the closeness for a second, before banishing the thoughts he shouldn't have about his best friend from his mind. Opening his eyes again, he froze. Stalking towards them, rearing back to strike, was Professor Lupin.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, trying to twist her away and interpose himself between his best friend and the werewolf. He almost made it. Almost. He never knew, then or later, exactly what happened. He knew he tried to pull Hermione out of the way, he knew he watched the strike coming, but could never remember the details, only the pain.

Fire erupted in his side as the werewolf's claws racked across his ribs. He felt flesh rend and bones crack as the paw swiped both him and his best friend, sending them sprawling. Harry struggled to get back up, but Hermione had landed atop him. He pushed harder, trying to… he wasn't sure but he knew he had to do something. His vision grayed, blurring as he saw the werewolf continue towards them.

Hermione groaned above him, struggling to collect herself. And Harry rolled them over, placing himself above his best friend. He winced at the pain flaring up his side as he exerted himself, but maybe, just maybe, he could save her. He shuddered as she screamed in pain; the roll hurting her as much as it did him. He stared into her fear filled eyes, trying reassure her with his eyes, as he waited for the werewolf to strike out again.

Another scream cut through the air, and Harry's vision abruptly changed as he jerked awake. Disoriented, he tried to figure out who had screamed, before realizing it was him. He looked frantically around, trying to figure out what had happened, where he was. Breathing heavily, he fumbled for his glasses on his night stand. Putting them on, his vision resolved itself into his dark bedroom, and his heart slowed slightly. A dream, only a bad dream.

He paused, no, not a bad dream, a bad memory. His hand strayed to his side, feeling the hot, puckered flesh of the scars Lupin had left. His hands caressing the marks, he remembered the rest of that night. Buckbeak had appeared just before the next strike, protecting them. Once he'd saved them he forced Lupin to retreat, and chased Lupin away before he could finish the job. He'd struggled to get to the lake with Hermione, hoping to see his dad. They'd arrived in time to see Sirius and himself being attacked by dementors, their ghastly presence chilling him from just the memory of it. He'd looked around and tried to see his father coming to rescue them. But he saw no one else, No one to cast the Patronus, now one to save them. Then he had realized that it wasn't his father that had cast the Patronus before, it was him. He'd stepped forward, and drawing on the memory of Hermione's embrace just moments before, cast the most powerful Patronus he'd ever seen cast. A stag burst forth from his wand, crashing into the swarming demons. The Patronus chased them away, then returned to nuzzle Harry and Hermione's wounded sides once, before dissipating.

The dementors driven off, Hermione had bound both their wounds. Harry had despaired at his failure to prevent her injury, but she'd merely given him a small smile and said it was fine, and preferable to being dead. It had hurt when Buckbeak had flown them up to Flitwicks window, but at the same time he'd secretly relished the feel of her arms around him. The look on his Godfathers face when he'd called 'Hippogriff for Black' had caused even Hermione to chuckle.

Once Sirius was gone, taking Buckbeak with him, they'd used Harry's invisibility cloak and a broom borrowed from the school broom shed, to sneak back into the Hospital wing. Once there, they'd extracted an oath of confidentiality from Madam Pomfrey to only tell Professor McGonagall if she absolutely had to tell someone before revealing their new injuries. Harry's ears still burned from the memory of the healers rant, he never knew the Hospital Matron knew such words. Fortunately neither Hermione nor he appeared to be infected with full on Lycanthropy, though they were told to expect some changes regardless.

They had changed, many things had changed. Both desired more meat, Harry preferred beef on the raw side, though Hermione seemed to relish chicken and fish. Hermione had always been quieter than her male friends, but now Harry joined her, even when they never said a word to each other. Comfortable silence became their norm, as if they had no need for words. They'd grown closer, yet farther apart. Something had fundamentally changed between Harry and his best female friend. He couldn't say exactly what it was, just that there was something different, something more. Neither spoke of it to the other, but it stayed the elephant in the room between them until the day they'd departed. That too had been different. As they'd said goodbyes on platform 9 ¾, Hermione had given her usual bone crushing hug goodbye, and for the first time ever, Harry had returned it, to both of their surprise and embarrassment.

Ron had been his usual self, nothing new there. Though he didn't feel as close to Ron anymore. He couldn't say exactly what or why it had happened, just that it didn't feel the same anymore. He'd written this summer, and still been invited to the Quidditch world cup his father had gotten tickets for, but he just didn't feel as close to the carefree redhead anymore. Maybe it was the effects of his brush with death, or with becoming a were, but if he thought back over the years, he felt he'd failed, that he could have done more.

Hermione however, her, he'd written a dozen letters to so far, and she'd returned them.

Harry sighed, rolling over in his bed. Even the Dursleys had changed to him. Everyone had given him much more space than before, even Dudley avoided antagonizing him. Uncle Vernon had actually let him eat with the family, not at the table though, he could keep his 'freakishness' in the kitchen, but they'd let him eat actual meals. Harry had no illusions of him actually being liked, he saw the fear in their eyes. He could also smell it. That was another thing the injuries had left him, his sense of smell and hearing were better than he'd ever imagined possible. It was a blessing and a curse though, better hearing let him hear what everyone said about him when they thought he was out of earshot.

Harry sighed, it was the first full moon since the incident, he couldn't bring himself to call it an attack, and his nerves felt on fire. He checked the time: 12:20 am. He'd finally gotten to sleep an hour ago, despite the sense of fear and anxiety that had been bothering him. It hadn't been very restful, and now who knew if he'd be able to get back to sleep. He wondered if…

Harry's train of thought broke off as he heard a tapping on his window. Looking up and seeing Hedwig sitting there, he scrambled up to let her in. The majestic Snowy owl hopped in and presented her leg to him. Still groggy, Harry finally realized she had a note on her leg, and quickly removed it. Giving Hedwig an owl treat, he looked at the note wondering why Hermione would be sending him a note at this time of night. His thoughts broke off as he say the familiar curving script on the page. Smiling slightly at Hermione's neat writing, he opened the note. Inside, two words were written, and Harry's heart stopped. In the middle of the page, the two words 'HELP' and 'TURNING' was staring back at him, and fear ran its icy fingers through his insides.

3 Hours earlier

"I'll be ok mum," Hermione reassured her mother, "Madam Pomfrey said we'd be uneasy around the full moon, but we won't change." She tried to sound confident, but it was hard with her skin burning like it was. Plus even she realized the healer wasn't sure about anything related to this.

"I know dear," Anne Granger sighed, "But you've been really distant all night."

"I guess i have been, I'm just worried about Harry," She admitted, turning to look out the window so her mother wouldn't see the pain in her eyes. "He doesn't have anyone mum. You and dad are here for me, but he doesn't have anyone."

Anne Granger paused at the wistfulness in her daughter's' voice. She'd known Hermione only had a few friends, really only Harry and the redhead… Ron Weasel? He'd seen her write Ron a couple times, mostly to coordinate her joining the Weasels' at the big sports thing at the end of the summer. Hermione really wasn't a fan of the sport, Quad itch? But she'd become much more interested when Harry had informed her he'd be there.

Harry… The snowy owl sitting by her daughters' bedside was another interesting piece of the puzzle. Another letter for Harry, her 15th if count was correct, was waiting for Hedwig to take tomorrow, once Hermione finished writing it. The owl had been a fairly regular guest, not that anyone complained.

Now she was helping her daughter get ready for bed, on the night they expected to be one of the hardest she'd ever had. She'd been shocked when Hermione had returned from school with a still bandaged side, a note about care for a werewolf injury (non-turning), and a visit from a rather upset Deputy headmistress explaining in more detail what to expect on the full moons. She and her husband had been less than pleased. They'd thought Hermione would be safe at her school, not attacked every year. It was a surprise when Hermione said this defended this one so vehemently, saying it was entirely her fault. The explanation for the injury had been weird in and of itself; people turning into animals, a werewolf, and a man thought dead for 13 years.

According to Professor McGonagall, they should expect Hermione to be antsy and irritable for about a day either side of the actual full moon, and generally keener senses and a heartier appetite. The professor had indicated that more red meat in her diet was to be expected, along with a preference on the rarer side. Hermione had said that the few days she'd had at Hogwarts indicated she'd prefer more fish and chicken than beef, which was unusual. Her irritability had also shown itself with a vengeance earlier that day. Thankfully no one had been hurt, but she suspected none of the kids her age would want to be around her daughter much after what she said to the O'Donnell boy.

"Are you alright dear?" Hannah asked, turning her attention back to her daughter who was now furiously itching her arm.

"Yeah, I think so." Hermione responded, "My skin feels on fire and the moon isn't even up yet."

"Do you need some lotion or…" She trailed off, and paled.

"What's wrong mum?" Hermione asked, turning towards her.

"Dear, your arm." Anne pointed.

"What?" Hermione looked at her mother, then down at her arm and recoiled in shock. Her hairy arm. Her hairy arm with more hair still growing arm. "Oh no."

"Hermione…" Her mother stepped towards her.

"NO!" Hermione shouted. "Get back! Get dad and RUN." Hermione arched her back, letting out a scream of pain as a bolt of fire lashed through her, every nerve screaming in agony.

"Honey."

"GO! Now!" Hermione staggered over to her desk, "Get help but get out of here now." She watched her mother back out of her room in fear. Grabbing a pen, she quickly wrote a note and turned to a ruffled Hedwig. "Take this to Harry, Hurry"

The owl looked at the troubled teen, hooted once, and took off out the window as Screams of pain followed her into the night.