A/N: Yes, there was a problem with Ch. 22- I've reloaded it, though. Must be my antique computer. Sigh. And I'm sorry for not catching that earlier, as well as for my aimless self-promotion in last chapter's song credits. See, I've been accidentally writing songs when I do my outlines for this, and if I wrote all of them down we'd have a musical version with electric drums, very solid keyboard riffs, pathetic dual-guitar that has to be overdubbed to within an inch of it's life to be audible, and starring Ewan McGregor as Donaghan, James Marsters (the great singing British-dish,) as Malfoy…any other good casting ideas please review this tripe. Because it is tripe. I am a tripemonger. I can't write myself out of a paper bag. Here you go. (Depressed lonely sigh.)

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Servant of Lady Catherine

Julie fell asleep shortly after the Quidditch game, injuries, blindness and laughter having worn her out totally. Donaghan put her gently in the bed next to his and took out a textbook he was studying. There weren't very many illustrations, but the text had a great deal of useful information about werewolves, including a list of their non-Transformation day symptoms. Quickly, he got out some parchment, but didn't have a quill. Oh, well. She'd have lent it to him anyway. He stole Julie's.

"Bloody wolf stuff," he muttered, scribbling down a list of all of the things he'd be doing soon. It included such unsavory items as:

'1. Growth of feet to full proportion if bitten before age of fifteen or so
2. Sudden allergies to certain plants that wolves find abhorrent
3. Unusual taste for rare, even uncooked meat for two weeks prior to transformation
4. Tendency to scratch head with back foot as a dog might do
5. Greater sensitivity in moustache (see Whiskers)'

Darn good thing he had learned to shave after that potion went wrong, Donaghan observed. He didn't want his whiskers being able to tell heat from cold or scratch Julie on the cheek when he licked her face-

Hold on a second.

'6. Unusual thought patterns, thinking as a wolf might'

Damn, that was weird. He made a small check next to number 6, as it was clear he was now thinking like a wolf. He pressed on with the list he was writing down.

'7. Enhanced sensitivity in olfactory organs
8. Enhanced perception of human pheromones
9, Wolfish ability to determine endocrine-related conditions'

Now what the hell did all that mean? He wished Julie was awake so he could ask her about these difficult words. The glossary in the back told him that 'endocrine' related to the glands, 'pheromones' were a kind of scent that humans released almost imperceptibly when they were scared, angry, or wished to attract their mate, much like some kinds of insects did. 'Olfactory organs' turned out to mean his nose.

On a whim, Donaghan went over and sniffed Julie.

Well, that was one nice wolf ability to have. Julie smelled like fall leaves and breadcrumbs, a little bit of wine, too, like a French bakery in autumn. She also smelled rather strongly of something he recognized, and there turned out to be a bag of what looked like Every Flavor Beans in just one color in her robe pocket. He sniffed them too. They were the Muggle kind. On the rationale that she would get overwarm, Donaghan removed her robes and put them over the footboard of the bed. He discovered two more bags of Muggle jellybeans.

So his girlfriend did have an addiction –to Muggle junk food! Donaghan smiled at the humor of this new information and removed both of her leather boots. To his horror, a spare knife in a scabbard and a suspicious-looking flask had been hiding in them just above her ankles. He opened the flask and sniffed it, then laughed with relief when he realized just what it was.

It was Polyjuice Potion, with some of his hairs. He easily recognized the red-brown fiber still stuck to the threads of the flask's opening, and it would explain why Tom and Tim had been giggling throughout the Halloween feast. She must have gotten back at them for making his hair all long with the Terpsichora Potion that went awry. Sweet girl. Donaghan kissed her on the cheek as her Uncle Ron entered. Uh-oh.

"You must be the Slytherin I've heard about," the red-haired man observed by way of prelude. "Don't you even think you're getting into bed with her, I know your kind."

"Uh… I'm in Gryffindor, and I'm one of her Quidditch mates." Best not let her uncle stay suspicious of him for long. Ron relaxed, and Donaghan could actually smell the change in attitude as his pheromone pattern changed to one of friendship and complete good will.

"Oh. Then that'd make you Donaghan McPhersen, Chaser and Captain. I'm Ron Weasley, I played the same spot for Gryffindor."

"Oh, neat! I knew that y' were one of Professor Granger's friends, I mean, Julie refers to y' as 'Uncle Ron' and all."

"Yeah, it's weird to have a niece who looks up to you. My nephews are on the team, too, but they're almost five-ten."

"Tom and Tim call Julie 'little coz,' y' know. It's sort of funny when you notice that she doesn't look like them at all."

"'A case of purely honorary family,'" Ron quoted. "After the war and us all growing up together, her mum seems just like a sister now. Did you see that save she made in the Quidditch game? Wonder what book she got that one from."

"Julie and I had to watch from up here, except she's got to keep both her eyes bandaged for the next two days, so I kind of told her what was going on."

"Did she laugh?"

"Almost fell down."

"That sounds like her. I was coming up here to see if Madam Pomfrey could do anything about these- " Ron pointed to some spectacularly bruised, nearly broken ribs, "but since she isn't here yet, I'll stay and talk to you."

"If y' don' mind me askin, how much of that's Quidditch and how much of that's beatin' 'Fessor Malfoy up?"

"Oh, I think this little mark here's from a Bludger, the rest of it's from beating Malfoy up. He needed it."

"A better justification I've never 'eard."

"What happened to Julie?"

"See that window?"

"Yeah?"

"Two hours ago she had half of it in her face. She crashed, it splintered, some major 'ow.'"

"Yikes. And she got it in both eyes?"

"Naw, just the right one, qui' luckily. But Madam Pomfrey's got to let it 'eal the Muggle way, so both eyes are bandaged up to keep infections out."

"Poor kid. Broomstick through the window? I've done that, too. Except I only took a little scratch on my arm. Why would it shatter that way?"

"There were a charm on it to keep me from gettin' out."

"Why...oh, you're the one," Ron gave Donaghan a look.

"Exactly, sir. The werewolf. I tried jumpin' out."

"Don't you realize how brave you are to not jump, though? One of my favorite teachers here was a werewolf, I'll have Harry owl him for some advice on...werewolf things."

"Well, I've already got a list from this textbook here."

Ron looked over the list and smiled at a few of the things Donaghan'd copied.

"I haven't the faintest what the last three are, but if you can really scratch your head with your foot, I say that's a neat trick."

"The last three mean that I can smell things really really well. Watch." Donaghan sniffed Ron rather thoroughly. "Alright, the last thing y' ate was a cheese sandwich, y' drank some butterbeer before the game, and there's the smell of grass all over y'. That must be from fightin' on the Quidditch pitch with Malfoy."

"That's really great! Here, sniff Julie. What has she been at?"

"I've already sniffed her. She had Muggle jellybeans hid throughout her clothes like a secret drunk."

"That's my niece. Here," Harry entered the room and Ron grabbed his arm. "Smell Harry."

"I don't want to be smelled now, thanks," Harry said, confused by these proceedings. "What's going on here? –oh, Donaghan." Harry tried to smile at his student as if things were alright, but somehow there was nothing he could say to someone turned werewolf. Donaghan, however, just sniffed his robe.

"Cornstarch, butterbeer, and baby food. He's been feedin' the twins their dinner."

"That's exactly it!" Harry was impressed by Donaghan's new gift. "Is that one of the –er, side effects?"

"Yeah, 'ent it cool, Professor? I haven't quite told Julie 'bout the- well, y'know."

"I don't think she'll be freaked out by it. It's kinda neat." Ron was looking around the Hospital Wing to maybe find something new for Donaghan to sniff. It was like getting a bloodhound that talked suddenly. "Hey! Do you think you could help me with some Auror stuff? I've been analyzing that bloody pentacle in the Forest for a solid week now, and-"

"Ron," Harry chided, "are you asking Donaghan to help you with your homework now?"

"Sort of."

"Ron! Think of what Hermione will say to you!"

"I'll say what?"

"Well, speak of the devil."

"Julie's after bein' asleep, 'Fessor Granger. Y're friends are 'ere."

"Oh." Hermione went over to Julie's bed and adjusted the coverlet up to her daughter's neck. "How'd you like the Quidditch game, Donaghan?"

"I' was perfect, 'Fessor Granger, little dirty, though."

"A little? It was the filthiest game since we played the Americans." Harry's stint on England's national team had been marked by two World Cups and several nasty injuries. "I haven't seen such a bloodbath since we played Slytherin in my third year."

"And you, 'Mione, beating Professor Sinistra with a Bludger-bat. What kind of nonsense was that about?" Ron was mimicking his friend's chiding nature about offensive fouls.

"She hit Neville,"

"Who hit Severus! You've no loyalty."

"Yes, I have," Hermione protested. "I just… don't use it during a Quidditch game."

"So it's perfectly alright to foul your friends off their brooms?"

"Well, she did it!" Helplessly, Hermione indicated her daughter, who stayed fast asleep.

"She did it to a Slytherin, in a game."

"Well, so did I!"

"But you're a grown-up, and you should know better, dear," Severus pointed out in his silkiest and most knees-turning-into-water voice, coming up very sneakily behind his wife. "So, what have you thought of now that you've won that bet?"

"Oh, several very er- fascinating diversions for later on…if you aren't as bruised up as Ron is, dear."

"Oh, I'm perfectly fit for anything you like. If Julie's asleep and under Poppy's care…"

"Madam Pomfrey's out," Harry and Ron chirped in unison, totally shocked by the way these two professors were carrying on in almost broad daylight.

"Well, I'm sure that you two can watch her then. Ta, ducks."

Hermione swept out a bit like Professor Trelawney might, leaving jaws dropped and Donaghan paralyzed. Severus turned his head to leer at her friends, who were in an advancing state of mental rigor mortis and then closed the door.

"Is that the best you could think of?"

"The look on Harry's face! Did you see them, dear?"

"I am never doing that again."

"Come on, dear, I've got a whole list of ideas for you to work off tonight. Maybe I can break one of you Snapes of this gambling thing."

Back in the hospital wing, Julie had been faking sleep fairly well.

"Cor bly'me, parents mating, this is worse'n Hagrid's class! I am so glad they thought I was out for that."

"Weren't you?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Nope. I woke up about when you asked Donaghan to sniff Harry. For about five minutes after I thought it was a bad dream, but when Mum got all Mae West-like on you guys, I knew it was the nightmare from hell again. You guys can have some of those jellybeans, the reds are hot cinnamon, and the greens are mint."

"So, how's you're eye?" Harry asked, noting the way she seemed totally sick of the bandages.

"Hurts like hell, but I think I'm used to it. These damn bandages are really what ticks me off."

"Got to leave 'em on, though, Julie," Donaghan warned, giving her arm a stroke. "I found the knife in y're boot and the flask as well."

"Are you carrying knives again?" Harry chided her. "I've told you twice, you're going to cut yourself."

"I've carried a knife since I was six years old, I think I'm somewhat past likely to cut myself."

"Why would you need a knife when you were six?" Ron asked.

"Because a six-year-old's too small to defend herself," Julie explained rather detachedly. "You've got a ten, maybe eleven-year-old, small frame, they don't really need the knife as much, unless they're up against six- or eighteen-year-olds. Then they need it worse, because the six-year-olds only have to fight ten- or eleven-year-olds. Basically, every girl's got a blade."

"Why?" Ron was entirely horrified.

"Think about it. This is also the place where we got Voldemort. It's cleaned up a great deal in recent years, I'm told, but you still get a little scared when you've heard what can happen there. So I carry a knife because it's a safe move. One of the many side effects of growing up a Broughton kid."

"I had no idea Muggle orphanages were that bad," Donaghan said quietly. "Did I ever tell y' I was Muggle-born?"

"No, seriously?" This genuinely surprised Julie, who would have thought Donaghan entirely wizard-born.

"M'dad was a lawyer and my mum was a Squib, y'kna, so when they got killed I went to live with Grandfather Donegal in the castle near Edinburgh. So I'm really a part-Muggle, or Muggle-raised up until I was five or so."

Julie was surprised by the calm way Donaghan was able to speak of this, but considering it was now that he told her instead of months ago, it was probably as hard for him to discuss as some of the things she'd spent her childhood afraid of. It occurred to her that she had a lot more in common with him than with Malfoy, and her decision to take up with one and break up with the other seemed even more sound. The only question left so far was 'how'.

**************************************

"Still at the game, coz?" Tom Weasley asked. Hannah and Tim were playing it again with Julie's name as they ate dinner in the Great Hall that night.

"Yep. She knows a lot more words than I do, though."

Hannah moved the letters around again. With a very few left over, she had found the name 'Catherine' within Julie's.

"Well, that's not very intimidating. Imagine, 'She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' is just Catherine. That's a cat's name."

"I take it you haff not studied Russian or Bulgarian history, then," Alexei observed, quietly stepping into the conversation as he sometimes did. "Catherine the Great was the most infamous of all the Russian empresses, from a Bulgarian point of view. I don't think it's not a scary name." With that little moment of doomwailing, the Slytherin again retreated back to his own table. Tom and Tim were not pleased by this.

"If he's going to be so dismal, why doesn't he do it on his own side of the Hall?" Tim asked.

"He's Julie's friend, I can understand his worrying." Aldous was absently removing all the pickles from his sandwich and trading them with Chloe for her onions. "Maybe he's not so bad for a Slytherin."

"Well, I still don't like Julie hanging with Slytherins. You never know, she might just turn into- well, You-Know-Her."

"Aw, Tim, she will not," Hannah chided. "Being a Slytherin does not make you evil by default, you know. Look at her dad!"

They did. Snape's robes suddenly flickered and became bright red. He shot Hermione a glare and they turned back to black.

"I guess she's won a bet or something on the match."

"But still! And she spends too much time studying stuff in the library. I know, Hannah, 'look at her mum.' It's still a little unnerving to see her dancing with Professor Pureblood, you know."

Chloe hurriedly bit down on some fries to keep from spitting the secret out. Aldous handed her the ketchup. It was nice having him around, she realized. Chloe was beginning to wonder how much Julie'd talked to him.

Oh, well.

*******************************************

The house-elves were asleep by their usual bedtime of ten-thirty; one of the ways Dumbledore had prevented them from working through the night. This workers' rights regulation, however, was becoming more and more of a safety risk, as one Wormtail had easily contaminated yesterday's pumpkin juice. Tonight, he just stole some food and headed for the Hospital Wing. His new mistress would find breakfast ready when she woke up.

*******************************************

A/N: Is that better? Reviews for the plot bunnies? Hmm?