Chapter 18:  Visiting the Werewolf

        Hermione yawned and leaned her head back against the edge of the worn sofa. Ron was snoring from where he lay behind her on it. He moved slightly in his sleep and one hand was suddenly resting heavily on her shoulder. Hermione muttered darkly and crawled across the floor to where Harry was sitting cross-legged by the fireplace.

        "I thought you were asleep." He whispered as she settled next to him.

        "When there is studying to be done? Don't be ridiculous, Harry." She reached past him and chose an open book from the clutter on the floor. "I'm never going to be good at that regenerative charm."

        She reread the spell with such a glum expression that Harry chuckled.

        "Well it's about time that there was something you aren't good at."

        "I'm not very good at chess." Hermione replied quickly, her intellectual prowess had always been a bit of a sore subject for the three.

        "You're much better now." Harry smiled, the flickering fire casting shadows across his face.

        Hermione pushed the book away, it really was a lost cause, and tucked her knees up under her chin. "Well Sirius showed me a few tricks during our sixth year."

        Harry slipped his glasses off and wiped them on his shirt, "I'll bet he did," he muttered so quietly that Hermione almost didn't catch it.

        "What was that?" Her near shoulder length hair bobbed around her face as if echoing her surprise.

        Harry slipped the glasses back on before looking at her, really looking at her, "Did something happen, between the two of you, I mean."

        Hermione nearly choked. She was very thankful for the shifting light of the fire, it would be hard to see her blush, even with Harry as close as he was.

        "Why would you think that something happened, Harry?" Hermione whispered unaware that her voice had dropped.

        Harry shook his head and looked away from her towards the fire. "I don't know. He's just odd about you sometimes."

        Hermione frowned. "Odd?"

        Harry was saved from having to explain his meaning by the opening and closing of a distant door. They both turned towards the sound and a moment later Ginny Weasley poked her head into the Weasley parlor and looked at them. Her thick red hair was twisted back fashionably and she was wearing a set of tight fitting robes that Hermione thought were almost a bit unseemly. Her bright eyes lightened at Hermione then darkened considerably at Harry.

        "'Lo Hermione." She called softly to the other girl, careful not to wake her brother.

        "Hi Ginny, you're getting back awfully late, aren't you?" Hermione felt Harry shift uncomfortably next to her.

        "I had a date, I'm sure that Mum would have mentioned it." Ginny's voice turned cold but Hermione knew that she wasn't speaking to her anymore.

"Anyway," Ginny continued, "It is awfully late. Why don't we make plans to have lunch this week, Hermione?"

        Hermione nodded and smiled. Ginny withdrew from the parlor. The room was very quiet excepting for Ron's snores.

        "So," Hermione stretched her arms up above her head, "Still won't give you the time of day, will she?"

        "Was it that apparent?" Harry replied dejectedly.

        Hermione couldn't help the delicate giggle that emerged from her mouth. "You sound lovesick, Harry."

        Harry muttered something completely unintelligible before pulling a book onto his lap thus signifying that their conversation had just come to a definitive end. Hermione watched him for a moment or two before closing her eyes and resting her head on her knees.

        She couldn't blame Ginny, of course, Harry did deserve the silent treatment. They had been quite the item at the beginning of summer. There had even been a mention of marriage in late July, but Hermione thought that Mrs. Weasley might have had more to do with that then either Harry or Ginny. But needless to say, things had turned sour quite quickly. Apparently sometime in mid August Harry ran into Honoria Nettles, one of their previous Professors. Hermione never quite got a straight answer out of Harry on just what occurred between the two of them but whatever it was it had ended his relationship with Ginny quite irrevocably.

        Hermione had been quite shocked over his behavior but it was Harry; her Harry, she couldn't hold anything against him. Ron had just been thrilled that Harry was no longer seeing his baby sister. It had been a rather sticky situation for everyone involved.

        The book slowly slid from Harry's hands to the floor. Hermione looked at it for a moment before carefully picking it up and marking his place. With a major exam looming at the end of the week in their Healing Charms class they had been studying all evening. Hermione was worried about it. Ron had a natural gift for it though, and Hermione had been insisting on a very rigorous study schedule so that she could glean as much help from him, as he was able to give.

        But as it often happened, Hermione could no longer keep her mind on the task at hand. What had Harry meant about Sirius being odd? What was that supposed to mean?

~*~*~*~

        "You are not concentrating, Hermione."

        She opened her eyes. Ban was right, of course, but then again her Professor almost always was. It was those damn empathic abilities of his.

        "I know, I'm sorry, Professor." Hermione slumped forward slightly, "I'm not sure where my mind is today."

        "Then we should stop for today."

        He stood lightly and Hermione followed suit. Her stumpy ponytail grazed distractingly against the curve of her neck. With a low mutter she pulled the band loose and shook out her hair. It would take forever to reach the length that it once had. Hermione was willing to spare the time to grow it out but the in between stage where it teased against sensitive skin was beginning to drive her crazy. Hermione scratched mindlessly at her neck not paying any attention to her professor as he watched her openly.

        "Something is on your mind." He stated.

        Hermione stopped scratching, "No, not really, just a little anxious I suppose."

        Ban gestured her over to a low sitting table in the corner of his office. They had been meeting there privately on the weekends since her second year at Aylesbury had begun. She had chosen spell crafting as her specialization sometime in July. It had been a difficult choice. The opportunity to learn the arts of Reinou-Senkennomei had been a tempting idea to put it mildly. But in the end, Hermione had chosen her true love.

        Professor Bankotsu had not wanted to take no for an answer. And Hermione had always had an unquenchable thirst to please her teachers. They had finally reached an agreement. In Hermione's spare time, weekends generally, she would meet her professor in his office at school where he would teach her everything that she could learn. Which, Professor Bankotsu was starting to realize was quite a lot.

        Hermione kneeled gracefully at the black wood table. Her folded hands rested in her lap. She watched as Bankotsu silently brewed the tea in a small earthen kettle over a magicked fire.

        Tea was a regular part of their meetings. Hermione had not understood the necessity of it at first. But as the weeks had gone by she had begun to realize that the daily tea was more ritual than relaxation. The tea represented a great deal of the Reinou-Senkennomei beliefs. Through practiced stillness and quiet introspection one could gain a new view on the world around them; heightened senses so to speak.

        It had been a particularly hard concept for Hermione to wrap her brain around. She had always been more comfortable with things that could be learned from books. There were very few books dealing with what Bankotsu was teaching her and the books that did exist reminded Hermione far more of poetry than anything else.

        "You must be able to calm yourself more." Bankotsu said gently.

        Hermione looked up, a little surprised, tea was normally drunk in silence. "I know, but I've always been a little high-strung."

        Bankotsu straightened where he sat. With one long fingered hand he brushed back his black braid over his shoulder. He closed his eyes, hands resting on the table. Hermione bit back a sigh and copied his pose.

        "I want you to let go of whatever is plagueing your thoughts. Breathe in deeply and smell the tea. You haven't tasted it yet, what is it?" His voice was so soft in the quiet room.

        Hermione breathed deeply, forcing herself not to focus on the task at hand. "Ginger tea." She answered, almost flinching at how loud her voice sounded in the room.

        "What color is your cup?"

        It had been brown, antiquely crackled, but Hermione knew that it wasn't now. Damn him, he knew that she wasn't good with colors. Hermione kept her eyes closed and continued to breathe. She could feel the air around her, the soft circulation of air caused by their breathing. It moved gently around her and him. It was all over, under the table, brushing idly against the walls, against the cups on the table.

        "Blue," She said quickly. "It's a blue now."

        Silence and then, "Are you certain?"

        Hermione sucked in her lower lip and concentrated she could almost see it, "Yes, it's blue."

        "Look to make sure."

        Hermione opened her eyes; the once brown cup was indeed blue.

        "You still do not have trust in your own judgment. When the time comes and you need to rely on your other senses you must be able to believe what your inner eye tells you." His dark eyes watched her warmly.

        Hermione slouched dejectedly. "It's not coming very easily to me. I'm use to learning things quickly."

        "Just because something is hard does not mean that it is not worth your time to learn." There was no disapproval in his tone, just simple honesty.

        Hermione lifted her cup of tea to her lips and gingerly sipped at the golden liquid. "Ron thinks that it sounds a good deal like divination."

        "Do you agree with him?"

        "Well, no, not really. But it seems to have similarities. You don't use a wand, only your mind. I feel like I'm just guessing at things most of the time." Hermione swirled the tea.

        "If you are guessing, Hermione, then you are very lucky." He smiled.

        "But then, you're not predicting the future at all, unlike divination." Hermione wrinkled her nose, "I hate divination. I don't hate this."

        "Yes, I gathered that you harbored some negative feelings for that area of magic." His slight smile broke out in a boyish grin. "But you are right, Reinou-Senkennomei does not allow you to predict the future, only heighten your awareness of your surroundings. Shall we try again? Close your eyes."

        Hermione did as she was told, forcing the thoughts from her head, trying to keep her mind clear.

        "Breathe deeply and listen. Outside there is a tree. In the tree there is a bird, what kind is it?"

        Hermione tried not to frown, the window was closed, the room was so quiet. But outside of the window Hermione knew that there was a tree. So she thought of the tree and she thought of the bird in the tree. It was windy outside; Hermione could almost feel it on her skin. The sun was hanging low on the horizon; cool autumn air brushed her hair back. She could almost see into the tree. She could almost see the bird.

        "A kestrel," she whispered, her voice and mind far away, "it's a kestrel."

        Bankotsu smiled again and leaned towards his young protégé, "what type of tree is it?"

        Hermione frowned unknowingly. She could almost see the leaves they were large and dark. She could almost feel the wind that blew through them. The name of the tree was on the tip of her tongue.

        Panic shot through her head in a blindingly painful crash. Hermione gasped, eyes shooting open, she stumbled awkwardly to her feet. The small table shook as she bumped it almost upsetting the tea.

        "Hermione?" Bankotsu rose with her, worry apparent on his face.

        She paid him no mind, every fiber in her body was focused on the connection that she had with Ron and Harry. But there was nothing, nothing at all, which was strange in of itself. She could usually always feel something coming off of them. There was always some niggling little emotion in the back of her mind that wasn't her own. If that was gone it could mean only two things, something had happened to them, or they were purposely trying to block her out. Neither scenario sat well with the young woman.

        "Hermione? What is it? What happened?"

        She looked up at her professor. Hermione had quite forgotten about him. "I'm sorry, Professor, I'm feeling a bit unwell. I think I had better go."

        "What happened? Everything was going smoothly." His hand clasped gently around her arm.

        "Nothing happened, I just have to go, please forgive me."

        "If something went wrong you must tell me." His eyes were insistent.

        Hermione gently pried his hand from her. "I assure you that what happened had nothing to do with the Reinou-Senkennomei. It is something completely else. Everything will be fine, but I have to go."

        He opened his mouth but Hermione, very uncharacteristically, interrupted him.

        "Please don't ask me. I do not want to lie."

        He nodded finally, apparently against his better judgment, and Hermione fled the room.

~*~*~*~

        She apparated directly to the Weasley's front door. Harry had been staying with Ron ever since the end of their Seventh Year. They had planned to spend the afternoon loafing about the house and maybe listening to the Canon's game on the Wizard radio. Before Hermione could even knock on the door she knew that they weren't there. But she knocked anyway.

        "Hermione?" Ginny questioned as the younger girl answered the door. "What are you doing here? Ron said that you had some sort of meeting with a professor today."

        "They're not here, are they? Where did they go?" Hermione asked quickly forgoing all pleasantries.

        "Uh, I'm not sure where they went." Ginny frowned as she thought. "They got a letter a few minutes ago, said they wouldn't be back for supper, and left."

        "Who was the letter from?"

        "Look Hermione," Ginny was sounding a bit annoyed, "I may work at the Dailey Prophet but I'm not that nosy."

        

        Hermione ignored the irritation in her friend's voice. "Please, Ginny, this is important. Did they say anything before leaving?"

        "Has something happened?" Ginny asked with a worried wrinkle beginning to mar her forehead. "Are they in trouble?"

        "Ginny!" Hermione snapped in exasperation. "Did they say anything?"

        Ginny's face was very pale by now. "Harry mentioned getting potion ingredients from the apothecary. But I don't know..."

        Hermione was gone with a loud pop before Ginny could finish her sentence.

        Usually, one was expected to apparate to certain designated areas in Diagon Alley. It was frowned upon to simply pop from place to place. It was usually so crowded that there was a very high risk of apparating right on top of some poor, unsuspecting wizard.

        Hermione, however, threw caution and social niceties to the wind and apparated directly into the Apothecary shop. One little old wizard with more hair in his ears than on his scalp went flying into a tub of tarantula legs but other than that Hermione's sudden appearance was treated with little fanfare.

        "Ah, Ms. Granger, come to get refills? Or did you hear about my shipment of Siren tears that I got yesterday? Very rare you know." Mr. Elphick smiled at her warmly from across the counter; she was one of his regular customers. The shop was dark and crowded as always. Strange looking bottles cluttered shelf upon shelf along all walls. Even the back of the store door was hung with strips of dried Jobberknoll.

        "Siren tears you say?" Hermione's worry was momentarily dissuaded. "Can you put four milliliters on hold for me?"

        "You don't want it now?"

        "I wasn't expecting them. I don't have any vials prepared. You know that Siren tears spoil once they've been separated from the main shipment if they aren't stored in glass vials that have been washed in a mild sulfur bath." Hermione told him with a hint of censure in her tone.

        "Y...yes, you're quite right. I'll set that aside then for you? Come back tomorrow?" He looked at her hopefully through small, dirty glasses.

        "Of course I'll come back for them tomorrow. But my reason for stopping by today is that I sent my friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley here a little while ago to pick up a few potion ingredients but I fear that I may have left something off of the list. I don't suppose you have the reciept from the sale readily available?" Hermione beamed brightly at him.

        Mr. Elphick looked at her closely. He generally did not like to give out information concerning his patrons; one could get quite a nasty reputation that way, but Ms. Granger was one of his best customers. After a few minutes of consideration he rifled through a rusty lock box on his counter and handed Hermione a small sheet of paper.

        She read it quickly. "No, no, it seems that they got everything." Hermione handed it back to him with that same wide smile still on her face. "I just don't know where my mind is today."

        Her smile vanished from her face the moment that she exited the apothecary. Ashwinder eggs. Dragon's blood. Crushed vampire fangs. Hermione knew of only one potion that used all of those rare and expensive ingredients, the Wolfwood potion.

        The Wolfwood potion was a new variation of the Wolfsbane potion. It was considered to be a universal improvement over its predecessor. It not only took a shorter time to brew but it could be taken only moments before the rise of the full moon. It was also the only potion in existence that could halt the transformation altogether. Wolfwood had its negatives though. The ingredients were very hard to come by. The werewolf in question, while not transforming, was left nearly incapacitated. But worst was the toll that brewing the potion took on its creator. Many of the more complex potions required a certain amount of magic from the brewer and the Wolfwood potion was known to take a lot out of whoever dared to create it. Hermione highly doubted that either Harry or Ron were capable of brewing a potion such as this. But they had bought the ingredients for it. And Hermione only knew one werewolf.

~*~*~*~

        Professor Lupin owned a small cottage in a neglected little town in Wales. Hermione had only been there once for a quick visit and a spot of tea. It had been apparent that Lupin did not enjoy entertaining in his derelict home. He far preferred to meet with her in London whenever she had a question dealing with her studies.

        Hermione stood before it now with the last rays of the sun settling along her shoulders, stretching her shadow far out before her. She looked quickly at her watch; the moon would be rising in only a few hours. If they were brewing the Wolfwood potion she certainly hoped that they had started already. Time was quickly becoming their enemy.

        She walked hurriedly towards the slightly off kilter building. It had two floors and a thatched roof. One window refused to stay closed and it hung open in the breeze, at some point someone had decided against mending the cracked pane of glass in it.

        Hermione squeezed her hands together. She was wearing light brown gloves but the cool evening air was already beginning to sink it. Hermione wished that she had bothered with her coat before coming to find them. By now her worry had faded into a resentful annoyance. She knew that they weren't in danger, but they were definitely trying to keep something from her. They were also definitely here.

        She walked up to the mildew-encrusted front door and rapped sharply on it. The door opened slowly and she was face to face with a rather shame-faced Ron.

        "Uh, hi Hermione." He said apologetically.

        

        "Don't you 'hi' me, Ronald Weasley, don't you dare." Hermione jabbed one finger into his chest and he backed up quickly. "Do you have an idea how worried I've been? I thought something had happened." She followed after him, poking to enunciate her words. "I thought you two were in trouble." Ron continued to back up guiltily. "I thought maybe you had been kidnapped!" Hermione backed him into the far wall of the shabby living room. "But no! Nothing is wrong, you're fine, you're both fine. Care to tell me what is going on?"

        "I...we..." Ron made a grab to catch her hand in order to prevent any more poking.

        "We got a letter from Sirius this afternoon. He needed our help." Harry's voice distracted Hermione from her current target.

        Harry stood in the door way of the kitchen wearing old jeans and a ratty t-shirt with holes that he wouldn't ever let her fix. He was drying his hands carefully on a towel.

        "Well why all the subterfuge? Why hide it from me?" Hermione's voice softened, "I was so worried."

        "Harry, where did you put that jar of mugwort?" Another voice, one that Hermione hadn't heard in ages, called from the kitchen.

        Sirius stepped into the living room behind Harry. He looked better than when Hermione had seen him last in her Seventh Year. His hair was clean and thicker. The bags from under his eyes were gone. But he still looked tired, still seemed to be under some sort of strain. He stopped dead when he caught sight of her.

        "Hermione," her name was a whisper on his lips. Then a bit louder, "you cut your hair."

        Hermione scowled at him, a year and a half and the first thing he has to say is a comment on her hair? "Sirius." Her reply was colder than she meant.

        That seemed to snap some sense back into him and he turned to Harry, dark eyes flashing angrily, "I told you not to involve her in this."

        "We didn't tell her." Harry muttered, not meeting his godfather's eyes or Hermione's. "But she's always been good at figuring these things out."

        Hermione glared openly at Sirius. "You didn't want to involve me?" She hissed. How dare he? "I don't suppose anyone is going to tell me what's going on?"

        "We're helping Professor Lupin make his potion." Ron said hastily then raised his hands defensively obviously fearing her further wrath.

        "Why didn't he have it already? I thought that Snape was still brewing it for him?" Hermione asked, eyes returning to Ron.

        "Apparently," Harry said while casting a look at Sirius, "He lost it."

        "Lost it." Hermione repeated. "How do you lose a potion like that?"

        Sirius took a step towards her; cutting off whatever Harry was going to say. "Remus was helping me out of a jam. We got into a bit of trouble. The bottle was broken."

        Hermione looked at the older man silently. She knew that he wasn't about to explain what sort of jam he had been in so she wasn't even going to bother asking. "Where is Professor Lupin now?" All three men glanced at the kitchen and Hermione strode past them into it with an exasperated sigh.

        Lupin was sitting at an old table. The kitchen was clean except for the many potion ingredients scattered across all available surfaces. Her old professor looked over his shoulder at her; his hair seemed greyer than she last remembered.

        "Hello, Hermione, didn't think you were coming." His voice was tired and raspy.

        Hermione walked gingerly to him, avoiding the large pewter cauldron that was taking up several feet of floor space. "I would have been here sooner, Professor, but I wasn't invited."

        "Ahh...Sirius." Lupin tried to smile but failed miserably.

        "Are you hurt?" She asked cautiously laying a slender hand on his shoulder.

        Hermione had noticed as she approached the hunched way he sat as if he was favoring his left side. He was also trembling ever so slightly and an air of ill health flavored the air.

        Lupin coughed into a folded handkerchief that he held in his hands, Hermione saw blood speckling his saliva before he could wipe it away. "Ahh, just a little spot of trouble earlier. I'll be fine."

        Hermione fought the urge to throw something. "You're suffering from the effects of a Fire Seed trap, aren't you?" She could feel Harry, Ron, and Sirius watching them from the doorway.

Professor Nettles had spent an entire week teaching them the ins and outs of Fire Seed traps. She knew how to dismantle them. She knew how to identify someone suffering from its effects. Hell, Hermione could make one if she really wanted to. That probably had more to Draco than with her professor though.

Professor Lupin looked away from her, his eyes tired. Hermione really wanted to throw something now. Coming into contact with Fire Seeds, a very popular Dark magic booby-trap, wasn't fatal but it was highly painful. The aftereffects of a mere touch of one seed could last days. The skin around the affected area would pucker and swell, forming angry blisters that would eventually taint the flesh both inside and out.

        "He can't possibly make this potion." Hermione said finally to no one in particular as Professor Lupin started coughing up blood again.

        "If he undergoes the transformation in his current state the damage might be irreversible." Sirius argued. Fire Seeds were usually deadly against animals, particularly wolves.

        "I know that." Hermione snapped smartly as she grasped Professor Lupin by the shoulders and gently removed him from the chair. "That's why I'm going to make it." "

        Professor Lupin made no effort to stop her, in fact, he smiled greyly at her as she past him off.



"Ron, you're good with healing charms, see if you can't make him more comfortable." She pushed her old Professor at her friends.

        "You are not going to make this potion." Sirius suddenly had a hand on her arm.

        She was spun quickly around to face him; Hermione would never understand how he could move so quickly. "There really isn't another choice at the moment. Do you know how to make it?" Hermione replied calmly, she refused to be intimidated by him.

        Sirius opened and closed his mouth several times obviously trying to find a proper argument. "I'll take him to Dumbledore."

        Hermione placed her hand over Sirius' and tried to pry his fingers from her arm. "There isn't time, you know that. Prepping the ingredients could take half the night. Everything is set up here, it won't take me more than an hour. I'm quite capable of doing this potion."

        "I'm not letting you. I know what it does to its maker. It will hurt you." His voice was angry and pleading in equal parts.

        "It won't hurt me, it will only make me tired. I'll be fine. But Professor Lupin won't be if you don't let go of my arm." Hermione pulled a bit harder on his fingers and they abruptly released her.

        "I don't like this."

        "Really?" Was her snide reply, "I hadn't realized."

        He frowned at her. "Hermione..."

        "Sirius, get out, I have work to do."

~*~*~*~

        It was done. Hermione admired her handiwork thoughtfully. All this effort and magic for a tablespoon's worth of potion. It was laughable really, the amount of power that some potions required.

        She stretched and yawned. Hermione wasn't angry anymore. Not really. Not with Harry and Ron at least. Harry always had a difficult time refusing Sirius anything. They both felt guilty about it now, Harry and Ron, she could feel it emanating from both of them openly. But why had Sirius not wanted her help to begin with?

        It was common knowledge that neither he nor Professor Lupin was skilled at brewing Potions. Harry was a bit better than Ron but none of them were even in the same category of expertise when compared to Hermione. She had always had a natural gift for Potions, much to the chagrin of Snape. So why not ask for her help? Did he think that she would have refused to give it? Was seeing her such a trial?

        Hermione frowned and slowly stood up. She was exhausted. Hermione decided that she was going to sleep for years. They were all talking quietly when she entered the living room.

        "It's done." Hermione told them softly as she leaned against the doorframe for support. She had poured the potion into an old chipped mug that she had found in a cupboard. Hermione held the cup out, to them, afraid to walk any farther for fear of stumbling in fatigue and spilling the precious bubbly-grey fluid.

        Harry took it from her quickly and passed it to Professor Lupin who appeared to be feeling a bit better. Ron really was a wonder when it came to those healing charms. Lupin smiled a thank you at her before downing it all at once.

        Hermione returned his smile and promptly fainted.

~*~*~*~

        It was dark when she opened her eyes again. Hermione wasn't sure what had woken her at first. She was curled on her side in a bed that she knew wasn't her own while feather light touches tickled her cheek. Someone was touching her.

        Hermione rolled over slightly, eyes adjusting to the dark. Sirius was sitting in a chair next to her bed, his hand poised in mid-air as if afraid to move it.

        "Sirius?" Hermione mumbled through a yawn, "what are you doing? Am I still at Professor Lupin's?"

        Sirius brought his hand back down carefully and brushed her hair back from her face. "Yes, you're still at Remus'. We thought it would be best to just let you sleep."

        Hermione frowned at him, why was he being so nice to her all of a sudden? Why was he caressing her cheek? "What are you doing in here?"

        His hand stopped moving, "I'm not here." Sirius replied and once again his fingers continued with their gentle sweep up and down her cheek. "You're dreaming."

        Hermione shook her head, fighting back another yawn. "Don't be silly, Sirius," She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. "I am not dreaming."

        Sirius leaned towards her. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" His words were breathed gently across her ear.

        A very un-Hermione like giggle escaped her and she caught his hand in her own, stilling it's exploration. Hermione yawned again and tightened her fingers around his own. "I really am dreaming then, aren't I?" She drifted back to sleep.

        Sirius was gone when she woke in the morning. And Hermione never recalled waking up during the night.