"So…" Harry said, after Hermione's bird form sailed out of sight, "What really made you research vampirism, Ron?"

"What are you getting at, mate?" Ron demanded, locking gazes with Harry. "I did it because I care about Hermione. I want every option open to her."

"Oh? It's not because you still fancy her?"

"Come off it, Harry. You're being stupid."

"Maybe…or maybe not. We both know how much you hate the library and research."

"Never stopped me when you were in trouble, now, did it? Or will you be suggesting that I fancy you next?" Ron snapped, the edges of his ears turning red. "Merlin's beard, Harry, I thought we were better friends than that!"

Harry sighed, and sat down on the bed. "You're right…I'm sorry. But I worry about her. And this knowledge is going to muddle her for days." He quirked a half-smile. "Not to mention she's really going to have a time trying to work out how you found something in your research that she didn't/"

Ron shrugged. "Perk of the job. I've actually been promoted now. I'm an Unspeakable."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "How'd you manage that one? I didn't think you earned enough N.E.W.T.s."

"Seems that there are…extenuating circumstances which allow my rather P in Potions to be overlooked."

Harry's eyes widened in understanding. "Hermione…they really must be desperate to figure out what she's up to."

Ron nodded. "Exactly. That's why I've been researching vampirism. She doesn't deserve this suspicion, Harry. I admit it took me a while to learn that, but I know better now. And I hate the way the Ministry pushes me for details on her…and on you. After all, you are the famous Boy Who Lived. The future Auror, if you succeed in your classes. Which, of course, you will."

"Yeah…" Harry's voice trailed away, and he gazed past Ron, to something only he could see. Ron couldn't be sure where his friend's mind was wandering, but he had his suspicions. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut, deciding to wait and see. With wry amusement, he realized that while he may have officially stopped being an Observer, he would never unofficially escape the role.

"Well," he said, after coughing to gain Harry's attention. "I'm off to bed. Night, Harry."

"Night Ron," Harry mumbled absently as his friend left the room. He continued gazing at the wall.

Do I really want to become an Auror now? he wondered. After all the training…everything I've learned…do I really care anymore? The truth was, he was worried about what the consequences of working as an Auror might be. Would he, like Ron, be expected to spy on those closest to him? Could he do such a thing?

Hermione wasn't sure where she was going; she merely flew. Miles of countryside passed beneath her, She reveled in the feeling; this was nothing being on a broomstick, a hippogriff, or a thestral – all of which she'd hated. This was flying as it was meant to be done - where every change in trajectory was instinctual, where it was impossible to lose your balance and fall to the ground below.

Needing a rest, she alighted on a branch in the middle of a small wood. She wasn't quite sure where she was, but it didn't matter. Her inner compass had improved beyond measure after her change.

Not for the first time, Hermione pondered how such a thing had happened. Apparating or DisApparating was not allowed inside Hogwarts grounds, and no vampire attended the school. There had, of course, been a vampire in the castle the night she'd been changed – Fudge had been forced to step down as Minister of Magic, and the new Minister, with a vampire escort, had come to Hogwarts to meet with Dumbledore. Odd that our Minister fraternizes with vampires, but the Ministry as an organization discourages it, Hermione mused. It was almost certain that the vampire that had visited that night had been the one to change her…but why? And how had it been done without drawing Dumbledore's attention?

And now…now she had the chance to change what had been done. Thanks to Ron, she might be able to return to her former self. I'll have to ask him about his research, and verify his findings…she thought to herself, making a mental note to speak with Ron in the morning. But if his findings were valid…what then? What would she decide? She still had no job, Harry might well be asked, once he began Auror duties, to spy on her, and, just as when she had begun S.P.E.W., no one seemed inclined to listen to her for long in her protests against half-human treatment. S.P.E.W….I've not thought of that in ages…I really must make up some new flyers for it…

As Hermione's thoughts wandered and she continued to sit on the branch, another lonely figure, in another wood, was also pondering the situation at hand.

"Wormtail…come here." The high, cold voice of Lord Voldemort issued from the silence of the night.