"It's very difficult to find gainful employment," Lupin admitted. "The days leading up to the change, and then the day after the change… they're very difficult. I imagine it's like anyone else with a chronic illness."

Hermione had scheduled tea with Professor Lupin one afternoon after classes to ask him some questions. The blackmail bargaining part complete, Blaise had no interest in tagging along, so it was Hermione in the battered office with the shabby professor, pretending his tepid tea was good. At least she could focus on the questions and taking notes on his answers to distract her from the substandard tea.

"Does Wolfsbane make it any easier?" she asked, quill hovering over her page.

"It certainly helps mitigate a lot of the lead-up symptoms," Lupin said mildly. "The day after is easier to recover from, too – you're just tired from being up until dawn, as opposed to recovering from running around in the woods chasing rabbits all night."

"Is that what you do?" Hermione asked. "Chase rabbits?"

Lupin looked uneasy. "It's… It's hard to explain."

"Try," Hermione said promptly.

Lupin sipped his tea, thoughtful.

"You have to realize, you can't control any of it without Wolfsbane," he said finally. "There's just… a mindless bloodlust and raw instincts. There's no thought to it at all."

"What instincts?" Hermione asked.

"The usual ones," Lupin dismissed. "Eat, chase, kill…" He paused. "I suppose there's an instinctual urge for companionship. That's probably the best way to put it."

Hermione blinked. "Companionship?"

Lupin smiled wryly. "Well, wolves are not naturally solitary creatures. They live and hunt in packs in the wild. There's a terrible sense of loneliness and abandonment at times, I think, when one transforms alone."

"As opposed to not alone?" Hermione asked, her eyes sharp.

"Some werewolves meet before sundown in packs," Lupin said mildly. "They transform and hunt together, help take care of each other in the morning, that sort of thing. I imagine that helps with the loneliness."

"Have you ever done so?" Hermione asked.

Lupin winced.

"Not exactly," he said. "I… used to transform with other people, but it was a long time ago. But they were Animagi, not other werewolves."

"Animagi?" Hermione blinked. "And you didn't try to kill them?"

"No." Lupin's wry smile had returned. "In animal form, it was easier to see them as 'pack' and 'friend', not 'food'. Don't ask me why, but werewolves tend to crave human flesh more than anything else. If a person's in animal form, they don't register the same to a werewolf."

"Have you ever bitten a person?" Hermione prompted.

Lupin's eyes darkened.

"No," he said. "But I came close, once."

"What happened?"

"Nothing you need know about." Lupin shook his head, disgusted. "Someone nearly got past the safeties that were in place to keep me isolated. It was incredibly dangerous."

"There are safety measures?" Hermione asked, blinking. "Like what?"

"I don't need them anymore with the Wolfsbane," Lupin clarified. "Now, I'm able to curl up in a ball and just be trapped in the form of a wolf for the night but keep my human mind. Without Wolfsbane, though, most werewolves use some sort of safety measures to keep themselves from hurting other people."

"Like what?"

"Silver cages in the basement are the most common," Lupin said dryly. "Though incredibly painful, they're incredibly effective. Iron cages are maybe more common – so long as you get strong enough iron, the bars won't break, and then there's fewer scars and burns."

"You burn if you touch silver?"

"Silver is an odd metal magically," Lupin said. "It's considered magically pure, and it affects Dark creatures differently than others. Vampires cannot be seen in old mirrors, for example, because of the burnished silver used to back them. Silver bars and chains will burn a werewolf, though we're not likely to die from it."

"Do silver wards work the same way?" Hermione asked.

Lupin frowned. "Silver wards?"

"Yes. The hedgewitches say that lands used to be protected with silver wards and runes to keep the werewolves out," Hermione said. "Do the ward lines also burn?"

Lupin blinked.

"I have no idea," he said. "I know that many old estates have wards build into the foundations that hold protection against Dark creatures of many sorts. I've never heard of werewolf-specific runic wards."

"Do you think they would work?" Hermione pushed. "I don't want to work really hard to get all the hedgewitches silver rune schemes if they wouldn't even help against Greyback."

"Greyback?" Lupin's voice was suddenly sharp. "Why do you care about Greyback?"

Hermione looked up from her notes in surprise. Lupin's eyes were piercing on hers.

"Because the hedgewitches do," she said honestly. "A few months ago, they said he was prowling around Cumbria, and they were frightened of what he might do."

Lupin's face darkened.

"Fenrir Greyback is… unique among werewolves," he said. "He is a rare example of a person who gave in so fully to his feral and bloodthirsty urges as a wolf, he is more creature than human at this point. Most werewolves do their best to live inconspicuous, productive lives."

"He's still a danger to the hedgewitches," Hermione said, shrugging. "Even if it's just one werewolf, a lot of damage could be done. If he bites and turns one person in January, then in February they each bite someone, suddenly you've got four werewolves to contend with biting people in March, and eight in April…"

"I get your point," Lupin said. His voice sounded annoyed. "Fenrir lives in the woods, though, away from civilization. He does purposefully attack people on occasion, but usually for a specific political motive."

"The hedgewitches live in the woods in isolated communities," Hermione argued. "They're vulnerable. A wolf seen slinking around there isn't going to get the same kind of response as one prowling around Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade."

"What," Lupin finally said, frustrated, "is a hedgewitch?"

"Oh," Hermione said. She blinked. "They're – err – they're kind of like the uneducated wizard tenants of old pureblood estates."

Lupin stared at her blankly. Hermione winced.

"They're like invisible members of wizarding society," she said. "They have magic, but they do all the scut jobs – harvesting potion ingredients, watching crups, brewing potions for apothecaries, that sort of thing. They don't have jobs in public or work in the Ministry or anything – they don't have the magic ability for that, and they don't go to Hogwarts."

Lupin was looking at her very suspiciously.

"I have never heard of such a thing before," he said. "I don't know if I believe it even exists."

"Then don't," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "They exist whether you believe in them or not. And I aim to protect them as best I can."

Lupin was still regarding her with open suspicion. Hermione sighed.

"I'll come back another day with a silver rune ward scheme to test with you," she said. "In the meantime… what do you think would most help the werewolves?"

Lupin frowned but turned back to his tea, pensive.

"I'd say 'no discrimination', but that's hardly an overnight thing, is it?" he said. His tone was resigned. "Open availability to Wolfsbane would be a good start, but it's terribly expensive. And werewolves are not likely to admit to being werewolves by going to apothecaries and buying it..."

He considered quietly, and Hermione was content to nurse her own weak tea as he mused. She would let him take as long as he needed, really, so long as he gave her the answers she needed in the end.

Classes went on as the weather grew colder, and the Slytherins began wearing warmer robes and enchanting tiny vials of bluebell flames and stashing them about their persons to keep themselves warm. Studying for end of the term exams ramped up, and Hermione found herself often in the library to study nowadays, where it was much warmer, or visiting one of the other three common rooms, which were also kept at a much comfier temperature than the dungeons were.

Studying with Luna was always nice, and seeing snow drift down from high tower windows had its own way of being very calming and meditative. Luna was always grateful for Hermione's help when she got stuck on a concept or idea, and Hermione liked spending time in the Ravenclaw tower well enough.

Manny Barrows was always eager and grateful to see her, excitedly telling her about his day or how classes were going. Hermione responded politely enough, but sometimes Manny just brought his things over to sit next to her when studying, which usually ended up in all of the Ravenclaw first-year boys studying near her – which wasn't particularly conducive to actually getting work done.

Hermione was happy to have helped Manny, but she seemed to have acquired a bit of a fanboy in the process of doing so.

She made a mental note to ask Harry how he had dealt with Colin Creevey and his unstoppable enthusiasm.

She also began visiting the Gryffindor common room more often, which was kept warm with a roaring fire going at all times. Harry and Neville were always pleased to see her, and Ron amenable enough, and Hermione enjoyed seeing Percy the Head Boy's lips tighten every time he saw her lounging about on a couch in the Gryffindor common room. Students from other Houses were technically allowed in other common rooms, of course – it just wasn't done.

Hermione enjoyed his obvious frustration at being unable to tell her off.

She got a kick out of the new Gryffindor portrait as well. The Fat Lady, after Sirius Black's attack, had refused to resume her post, and the only painting brave enough to take over was one of a rowdy knight, Sir Cadogan. He changed the password constantly as a security measure, and he seemed to be vaguely aware that she was a Slytherin, even though she had the password, calling her things like 'scheming lady' or a 'scalawag of beauty'. Hermione knew the new portait was stressing her friends out, especially Neville, who wasn't good at memorizing new passwords, but she rather thought Sir Cadogan a fitting guard for Gryffindor House.

Visiting Gryffindor itself was a bit of a mixed bag, though. Harry still needed distraction from the stress of the professors constantly watching over him for Sirius Black attacks, and he still fell into fits of melancholy while contemplating his lost broomstick at times. Hermione did her best to distract him, but there was only so much moodiness she was willing to tolerate.

When Ravenclaw finally flattened Hufflepuff in Quidditch near the end of November, it cheered Harry up immensely – more than anything else had, at that point, to Hermione's annoyance.

"If we can beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin, we might still stand a chance," Harry said, pleased. "I might not have cost us the Cup after all!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, good."

The heavy sarcasm in her tone was unpicked up by Harry, who was too excited to notice. Hermione could not communicate just how little she cared about Quidditch, apparently – it was too small to try and quantify in a meaningful manner.

The defeat of Hufflepuff by Ravenclaw had other implications within Hogwarts besides affecting Harry's mood.

"We lost because I couldn't get a good-luck kiss," Cedric said, giving Hermione puppy-dog eyes in the library one day. "If only you had kissed me before the match…"

Hermione laughed.

"You lost because your Chasers were too busy eyeing up Cho Chang to pay attention to the game," she teased. "You, too, for that matter – she had a head start on you for the Snitch by a mile."

"I was dodging Bludgers when she spotted it," Cedric protested. "The Chasers might have been ogling Cho, but I was busy playing the game."

Hermione grinned.

"Guess you should have found me for a good luck kiss, then," she said, eyes sparkling. "Maybe you did need it."

"I looked for you." Cedric's eyes held hers. "Hermione, I tried to find you in the crowd again, to pull you aside. But I must have missed you."

Hermione shrugged. "I mean, it happens. There are a lot of students…"

"Hermione."

Hermione looked back at Cedric. His eyes were holding hers very intently, and he reached out and took her hand.

"I don't want seeing you to be a matter of chance," he said softly.

Hermione bit her lip, watching him.

"I come up and study with you at least once a week," she protested. "If that's—"

"That's not what I mean," Cedric said. "Hermione…"

Cedric's eyes were intent on hers, and Hermione felt vaguely uneasy at the depth of emotion in them. The conversation had turned from playful teasing into something deeper and more intense very quickly, it seemed.

"Have I done something, Hermione?" he asked. "Do you not want to kiss me anymore?"

"No!" Hermione protested. "That's not it—that's not it at all—"

"Then what is it?" Cedric pushed. "I feel like you've pulled back from me, Hermione. And I don't understand what I've done."

Hermione bit her lip, thinking while Cedric continued to look at her.

The truth of the matter was, she was still attracted to Cedric. She was. He was handsome, he was charming, he gave her happy butterflies in her stomach, and she enjoyed spending time with him.

And yet…

Cedric seemed amused by her open ambition, even admiring of her power and rapid progress with him through the 5th year coursework. And though Cedric had never judged her, being encouraging and supportive even when she admitted she went into the Goblin Hold, Hermione felt a vague sense of unease with him at times, an uncertainty of how Cedric would react if she were to truly open up with him about everything.

It had started with Cedric's reflexive horror at the knowledge of ley lines, his insistence that they were Dark, even though Hermione knew them just to be veins of power. Even though Hermione didn't doubt that they probably had been used historically as sources to fuel Dark magic rituals, his flat condemnation felt like an indictment to Hermione.

If he thought that way about something like ley lines, how would he feel if she revealed to him that she'd joined a coven?

Despite him often reaching for her hand, Cedric had never noticed her coven ring at all. Hermione knew that unless she purposefully drew his attention to it, he likely never would.

But they were just dating, right? There was no explicit commitment. She didn't need to reveal to him everything about her… even though it sometimes felt like she should. But unless things were truly getting 'serious', she was under no moral obligation to share her secrets with anyone.

Cedric was still looking at her, plaintive. Hermione bit her lip and decided to stretch the truth.

"I'm aware that it's your O.W.L. year," she said, looking up at Cedric sheepishly. "And I know how important these exams are to you – I want you to do well. And I—I don't feel like I'm a distraction to you when we're studying together. But otherwise…"

"You think you're a distraction?" Cedric's eyes went wide. "Hermione…"

"I am, though, aren't I?" Hermione defended, flushing. "Cedric… I think back to the times we have kissed, and gotten a bit carried away… you can't tell me that you think doing that more often wouldn't be a distraction for you from your studies."

Cedric looked decidedly torn. It was clear that yes, snogging her regularly would detract from his schoolwork, but it was also fairly apparent from the look on his face that Cedric didn't exactly care.

"I can balance my studying, Hermione," he told her. "Really. And it's good, to take mental breaks. You can't study all the time. There's got to be some stress relief in there somewhere."

"Seeing me is stress relief?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows, and Cedric smiled wickedly.

"Well, it certainly relieves me of stress," he teased. "Snogging you seems to take everything else off my mind…"

Hermione flushed and stuck her tongue out at him, and Cedric laughed.

"We could have dinner?" he suggested. "We could get a basket from the kitchens and eat up by the Divination classroom, where it's warm. Just the two of us. And… you know. Relax. Just us."

With all of his attention focused on her, Hermione couldn't help but feel flattered, and the darkened look in his eye made her shiver.

"That might be nice," she conceded. She gave him a small smile. "When?"

Cedric beamed at her. "As soon as we can."