Title: Care of Magical Creatures
Author: Arsenic
Rating: NC-17
Fandom/Pairings: HP, RL/HG/SS, copious references to HG/HP/RW, secondary pairing of GW/NT
Spoilers: All books up to OotP, Fantastic Beasts…
Disclaimer: Harry Potter was built up from the ground by JK Rowling and then distributed amongst the masses by Bloomsbury books, Scholastic books, and Warner Brothers. They have every right to him and the other characters/concepts in this story, I have none.
Summary: Hermione stumbles onto her path.
Author's Notes: Here is the definition as laid out by Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by "Newt Scamander," to the creatures that I mention have not been encountered in one of the five series books.

The numbers are obviously for listing purposes, but when you run across one of these creatures in the story, I will place the number that corresponds to the definition directly after it, for easy reference.

1) Ashwinder: The Ashwinder is created when a magical fire is allowed to burn unchecked for too long. A thin, pale-grey serpent with glowing red eyes, it will rise from the embers of an unsupervised fire and slither away into the shadows of the dwelling in which it finds itself, leaving an ashy trail behind it. The Ashwinder lives for only an hour…

2) Clabbert: The Clabbert is a tree-dwelling creature, in appearance something like a cross between a monkey and a frog… The Clabbert's most distinctive feature is the large pustule in the middle of its forehead, which turns scarlet and flashes when it senses danger. American wizards once kept Clabberts in their gardens to give early warning of approaching Muggles, but…[the] sight of a tree at night full of glowing Clabbert pustules, while decorative, attracted too many Muggles wishing to ask why their neighbours still had their Christmas lights up in June.

3) Antipodean Opaleye: A type of dragon.

4) Jarvey: Resembles an overgrown ferret, except for the fact that it can talk. True conversation, however, is beyond the wit of the Jarvey, which tends to confine itself to short (and often rude) phrases in an almost constant stream.

5) Knarl: The Knarl is usually mistaken for a hedgehog by Muggles. If food is offered to a Knarl, it will assume that the householder is attempting to lure it into a trap and will savage that householder's garden plants or garden ornaments.

6) Lobalug: A simple creature, ten inches long, comprised of a rubbery spout and a venom sac. Wizards have been known to extract its poison for use in potions, though this practice is strictly controlled.

7) Mooncalf: The Mooncalf is an intensely shy creature that emerges from its burrow only at the full moon. Its body is smooth and pale grey, it has bulging round eyes on top of its head, and four spindly legs with enormous flat feet. Mooncalves perform complicated dances on their hind legs in isolated areas in the moonlight.

8) Porlock: The Porlock is a horse-guardian. Covered in shaggy fur, it has a large quantity of rough hair on its head and an exceptionally large nose. It walks on two cloven feet. The arms are small and end in four stubby fingers. Fully grown Porlocks are around two feet high and feed on grass. The Porlock is shy and lives to guard horse. It may be found curled in the straw of the stables or else sheltering in the midst of the herd it protects. Porlocks mistrust humans and always hide at their approach.

9) Jobberknoll: The Jobberknoll is a tiny blue, speckled bird. It makes no sound until the moment of its death, at which point it lets out a long scream made up of every sound it has ever heard, regurgitated backwards. Jobberknool feathers are used in Truth Serums and Memory Potions.

10) Hebridean Black: Type of dragon.

11) Billywig: The Billywig is an insect. It is around half an inch long and a vivid sapphire blue, although its speed is such that it is rarely noticed by Muggles and often not my wizards until they have been stung. Those who have been stung by a Billywig suffer giddiness followed by levitation. Dried Billywig stings are used in several potions.

12) Horklump: The Horklump resembles a fleshy, pinkish mushroom covered in sparse, wiry black bristles.

*
Egg
*

Hermione had known, even as Ginny was speaking, that Ginny had been the one to draw the short straw, or pick the wrong side of the coin, or loose at whatever kinky game of chance the women of the Weasley-Tonks household had most recently thought up between the two of them.

"It's not that Nymph and I don’t like having you around, luv. Of course we do. We just think you might be using us as an excuse not to get on with your life, and that makes us a smidge uncomfortable."

Hermione tugged at one of the strands of hair that had squiggled its way free of her messy but utilitarian up-do. "Sure."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Minny, don't."

Hermione made a face at the nickname, thought up by Nymph in frustration at there being no cute way to abbreviate Hermione and amusement that it rhymed with Ginny. "Don't call me that."

"Don’t act like I don’t know you," Ginny bit back.

"Don't pretend like going out on a few dates with the idiots who slobber on me all day at the office or a couple of drinks with the girls up the hall will change anything," Hermione sneered in retaliation.

Ginny took a step back, but held up a hand when Hermione began to apologize, "No, I mean, it was something, at least."

Hermione pressed the heels of her palms against the mottled skin under her eyes. "Gin. Damnit." There was no apology in the world that could make up for the last two years, though, so Hermione just stayed still, head down and shoulders forced nearly to her ears.

"Okay, so maybe not socializing. It's been two years, Min, the Department's pretty well-established and you're still on everyone's A list. Get yourself a job you enjoy." There was a thinness to Ginny's voice that Hermione recognized as a dignified sort of pleading.

The Department, more formally known as The Department for the Protection of Muggle-Born Magic Adepts had been Hermione's baby, constructed by her a year before the end of the war over the summer before her final season at Hogwarts. At the end of her sixth year, Voldemort had managed a strike, killing hundreds of Muggle-born would-be wizards not old enough to have yet received their school letters. Recognizing the immense vulnerability of this sect of the Wizarding population too late, Hermione had worked her hardest to establish the Department.

In the aftermath of the war, when she had succeeded partly out of her status as hero and partly out of the wave of public sympathy for Muggle-borns that the massacre had secured, she was left in charge of its set-up. It had been for the best at first, giving her something to focus on other than her grief, but after less than a year it became clear that while it was her project, it was hardly her passion. Still, as head, she dutifully went in to see to its smooth operation day in and day out, very, "one-foot-in-front-of-the-other," as Nymph called it.

Hermione straightened slightly, lifting her hands from her eyes. "And what happens to the Department without me to defend the purpose behind its funding, make sure that enough PR is generated on a regular basis to maintain the public's attention to its importance?"

"Dean won't let anything happen to that office and you damn well know it." Dean Thomas's ten year-old sister had been one of the children killed.

Hermione couldn't deny the truth in that. "What would I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

Hermione refused to look at Ginny, the answer too immediate in her head. She lied, "I don't…I suppose I haven't really thought about it."

"Then start, luv." Ginny took hold of Hermione's shoulders and shook gently. "We don't know how to help anymore."

"I know," Hermione admitted. "You've been the best, truly."

"You're my sister. In every way that matters, at least," Ginny let the appreciation slide off her without a second of hesitation. "I miss them too, Min. But I wish I could give you what I have."

"Sanity?" Hermione attempted the joke, however weak.

Ginny gifted her with a small smile, "What lies behind it."

*

Hippocrates Smethwyck eyed Hermione, "You're far too qualified, Miss Granger, you must know that."

Hermione kept her expression even. "All of my training was emergency-based, I have no formal education as far as the medical arts are concerned."

"Regardless, you saved countless lives."

Hermione swallowed, trying her best not to grimace at the bite of acid as it slid reluctantly back down her throat. <I>You didn't kill Harry. The voice that reminded her of that was never her own. Ginny's, Nymph's, Charlie's, even Minerva's. Never her own. It would do, though, in a pinch.

"You understand that what I'm proposing is a very specific type of work. The proposal deals with several points that I've been working on with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures." Hermione fought to keep the twist of contempt those words always made her feel far from her expression.

"Your proposal suggests that you take on a position as Sister to the most dangerous inhabitants of the Dai Llewellyn Ward."

"It suggests that I work on rehabilitation and socialization of recently bitten werewolves." Hermione stated plainly.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger, but you are aware that werewolves are still considered dangerous and are only released if they agree to register so that they can be tracked. Socialization is rarely ever important, as most kill themselves rather than face this prospect or that of lifelong incarceration."

Underneath the ledge of the desk she was sitting on one side of, Hermione twisted her fingers tightly into her robes, releasing on the count of ten. "It is precisely either of those ends that I am hoping to help these patients avoid."

Hermione was actually fairly used to people looking at her like she was a few crumpets short a full tea service, but somehow, it never failed to anger her. Luckily, her anger over Smethwyck's carefully worded but blithe disregard for an entire class of his patients was far overriding this more recent irritation. "You loose nothing by allowing me the chance."

"I risk the life of a war hero. Mungo's reputation hardly needs the bolstering."

Hermione dropped her voice an octave, something Ron had always said made her sound like she was channeling demons. He had warned her about using her power responsibly. "I'm quite certain I can take care of myself, Healer Smethwyck. After all, I have managed to get this far, have I not?"

The sentiment, when so many others are dead, floated between them for a minute, heavy and unstable.

Smethwyck cleared his throat. "Yes, well. I suppose if this is what you want…" He waved his hand negligently. "The pay is less than glamorous."

Hermione smiled without showing her teeth. "That will be such a change from the Ministry."

*

Hermione was too smart not to recognize her own psychoses. She was well aware that she was nursing a guilt complex but for the most part, completely powerless to do anything about it.

She often thought that perhaps she had planned too strongly on Ron making it out alive.

She had known Harry wouldn't.

The curse that had killed Voldemort was Old Magic. Older, it was believed, than even Slytherin himself. The book that Hermione had found it in had claimed that snakes had created the spell themselves; a spell designed to work only on those who had a connection with snakes. Parselmouths, in contemporary terminology.

It is not in the basic nature of snakes to be evil. Cunning, mischievous and self-defensive, certainly, but evil is a concept mostly unknown amongst the animal kingdom. Therefore, attempting to force a snake's true nature on a Parselmouth who has deviated from it wreaks havoc with the Parselmouth's inner nature, the balance of his soul. This was essentially how the spell worked.

There were two catches to implementing it. As with most ancient spells, this one took a Wizard of great inner power to augment, but there were quite a few of those at Hogwarts. This spell, however, had to be implemented by a wizard whose actions and beliefs ran directly opposite of evil. Also, the wizard to cast the spell's inner nature would be altered, as he used the good within himself to separate the evil from his opponent. Inevitably, the spell meant death for the caster as well as the recipient.

Even if there hadn't been suggestions within the spell that Harry would have to be the one to cast it -- it was best if cast by a Parselmouth -- there was the implication behind the Prophecy that Harry was the only one with the ability to best Voldemort.

Hermione had found the spell fairly early on in her searching, at least after Snape finally allowed her access to his books on the orders of Dumbledore. She didn't inform Harry of it until the very end, until she knew there was no other way.

She never told him about the end result of the spell. He and Ron had believed until the end that there was a chance they could both live through the final battle.

The night before Hogwarts was taken, Hermione had snuck into the boy's dormitory, where Seamus, Neville and Dean were well used to looking the other way when she would climb into Harry's bed to find both her lovers waiting for her. Aware that things were coming to a head, she had been slowly saying her goodbyes to Harry, without the aid of words.

Ron she had given strength, but not leave to go. He was supposed to stay with her.

But Ron had always been the more loyal of the two of them, she supposed. He had tried to Heal Harry, intuitively, and been sucked into the death pull of the Magic. They were gone before Hermione could jump on for the ride.

She didn't regret not telling Harry, not making him live a death sentence for the final months of his life. She had found that she could live with having killed him, but she doubted she could have survived breaking him. The guilt over Ron's death clung to her, heavy as mud and twice as dirty.

It couldn’t have been helped, this she knew. Even if Ron had kept quiet, which would have surprised her, his face would have given it away. Still, knowledge is power and Hermione instinctually felt that somehow she had acted as heartless dictator in the whole situation.

She had told the remaining Weasley's, Ginny and her then-new girlfriend Nymph, and Charlie; hoping that their hatred would be worse than hers, more painful. Both of them had failed her though, too tired to hate the woman who was all that was left of Ron and the boy they had adopted as a brother.

She had given up on receiving proper punishment and instead struck out for suitable penance: to save enough lives to make up for those two. She didn't foresee an end to the pursuit. Sometimes, every once in a while, it was reassuring in its infinite nature. Those were the better days.

She may not have known how to fix the guilt complex, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try. She owed a few people that. Ron and Harry would understand.

That was why she had loved them.

*

Minerva was prompt, as always, but Hermione had insisted on getting to The Three Broomsticks early and was now intensely grateful for Nymph's having invited herself along. Without her there to chatter, Hermione was quite sure her nerves would have left her stammering and ready to flee by the time Minerva arrived.

Instead, Hermione greeted her former professor with a small smile and a polite, "Gillywater?"

Minerva's lips quirked up, "No, if you don't mind, I think I'll have a spiced cider."

Hermione waved over Rosamerta's nephew, Oren, to whom Rosamerta had left the bar. She ordered for Minerva and another round for her and Nymph, waiting for the drinks to actually come before she got down to business.

"I need a favor," she prefaced.

"If it's within my power," Minerva promised.

"I know you're terribly busy, training a new deputy, and all," Snape had agreed to fill in as deputy only so long as it took to find a new one. Eventually the man who had taken over for the now-retired Flitwick had consented to taking the post, but he had only been on staff for a little over a year and was still getting used to Hogwarts, let alone its administrative duties. "Still, I was hoping that you would be willing to take me on for lessons again."

Minerva took a sip. "When you graduated, your Transfigurations were quite top of the line. I'm not sure what else you imagine I have to teach you."

"The one Transfiguration I can't yet do," Hermione supplied.

"Ah," Minerva turned her cup in her hands slowly. "And what, may I ask, has suddenly attracted you to Animagistry?"

Under the table, Nymph nudged Hermione with a knee in a quick gesture of support. Hermione began, "It's far from recent, really. I've been fascinated since third year. In truth, though, the drive to learn it now comes from my new job."

"I've heard rumors," Minerva admitted.

"I imagined you would. It's no secret down in the ward that Snape supplies the hospital with its regular batches of Wolfsbane."

"It's a sign of concern that he said anything at all. He very rarely concerns himself with other people. More so now than ever before."

Hermione, who still remembered too vividly the man whose wit could target the most vulnerable parts of her without even aiming, merely pursed her lips. "Kind of him, but as I told Healer Smethwyck, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself."

"So you have proven."

Hermione let the glance shared by the two other women at the table go. It would do no good to get angry about it. She owed her pretended ignorance to Nymph, if not to Minerva. "Will you teach me?"

"Of course I will, it's a good skill to have even when one is not attempting to become friendly with werewolves. I just can't guarantee regular lessons."

Hermione nodded, "I understand completely. I'm not even sure that I can. The job's hours are unpredictable, at best."

Minerva chuckled, "No doubt."

"Thank you," Hermione reached out to quickly squeeze Minerva's knuckles. Minerva squeezed back, but let Hermione go at the first sign that she was ready to withdraw.

*

The lessons, when they could manage, were held weekly. They could be done over an early breakfast, early enough that Minerva could make it to the Hall for Hogwart's scheduled breakfast, or late enough at night that it took several cups of strong coffee for them both to stay awake for the duration of the lesson. They were slipped in after staff meetings that ran shorter than expected and before independent student sessions.

It was as Hermione hurried up the stairs to Minerva's office for one of the late night meet-ups that she ran into Snape. Not, thankfully, literally.

She was past him, hardly having even registered the tall swish of black cloth, when he barked, "Miss Granger," and out of pure habit, she froze.

A quick breath later, she turned. "Professor."

He didn't seem to have expected a response, as once they were face to face, he went silent. Just when she was ready to bid him a good night and carry on, he spoke up. "As you have the most continuous contact with the lycanthropic patients at Saint Mungo's, I was wondering if you had noticed any difference in this month's transformation as to that of last month's?"

Hermione tilted her head. "You changed the Wolfsbane?"

"No, not on its most basic level, at least. It is something of a continued project of mine, however, its perfection. There are several symptoms of the transformation I wish to alleviate. I fuss with it when I am stuck on another problem."

"I'm sorry, I don’t remember seeing anything. I could ask them. One or two might even tell me," Hermione's lips twisted in a self-deprecating grimace. "What would you need to know?"

"If they felt more clearly inside their heads. I once was told that their awareness of self was constantly present but felt muzzled. I simmered a Jobberknoll(9) feather in the first stage of the potion's base this time, I should like to know if it had any affect."

"Of course. I will see what I can find out." Hermione gave a polite nod and began to head off to Minerva's, already late for their scheduled meeting time.

"Miss Granger," his voice called once again, this time with less edge.

"Yes, Professor?" She did not turn.

"Perhaps, if I were to owl you my ideas, the next time I got to thinking about the Wolfsbane-"

Despite the grip on her self-control that Hermione had long pounded into herself when in his presence, she spun around, cutting him off, "My expertise is nowhere near yours. I did not continue in the field after my N.E.W.T.s."

"Yes, I realize." He paused. "But I have not the disposition to sit with the subjects as they transform, and your input would be invaluable. They are often reticent in discussing the change while it is not occurring."

To her surprise, Hermione laughed. It was short and mixed with bitterness, but it was laughter. "No, no they don't. All right, I see your point. Yes, that would be fine. Just don’t expect an immediate reply. The job and my sessions with Minerva leave little time for extras and I have family and friends who still require my attention."

Something in his eyes made her regret verbalizing the last part. He didn't snap, though, merely nodded, "Of course. Like I said, it is something I use as a distraction. I will hardly be bothered by a wait."

"Well, then," Hermione took a step backward, "I'm off. Good night, Professor."

His, "Good night, Miss Granger," held the oddest tone of melancholy to it. She thought it was almost recognizable as loneliness.

*

"I could bite you," Zev threatened, eyes looking a bit feral even having resumed his human form. "The potion makes me know what I'm doing, y'know. I could bite, if I chose to."

Zev Peren was the new kid on the ward. He was nine years old and it was something of a miracle that his parents had taken him as far as Mungo's to abandon him. Most bitten children were dropped off at the nearest wooded area at full moon and left there to die. Still, Hermione couldn't exactly consider him lucky. "I know."

"Aren't you scared?" Zev demanded. The nine-year old was all big feet and hands and too-wide eyes, with sandy-blond hair that needed to be cut so that he wouldn’t have to constantly swipe it out of his field of vision. He was anything but intimidating.

Still, she almost wished she could tell him she was. It would have meant that she hadn't already survived things far more scary. It would have given him a little something to hold onto. Instead, she teased, "Aren't you? If you bit me, I'd have to stay here all the time."

Zev shrugged. "At least you talk to me."

There were seven werewolves, not including Zev, on the ward. Ranging from twenty-six to seventy-two, two were women and five were men. One of the women and two of the men had taken on a pack mentality and banded together, but they were hesitant to allow any newcomers into the pack. The remaining four had to be persuaded to interact with anyone, let alone each other. There had been an eighth, another member of the "quiet cult" as Hermione silently termed the loners, but he'd killed himself at the previous full moon. She'd been determinedly not making his death an issue in regards to whether she was doing anyone any good or not ever since.

"They don't know what to say, Zev."

"I asked Redda if she'd play Exploding Snap the other day and she totally ignored me."

"Redda's grieving," Hermione explained. She wasn't sure how she knew this, as Redda wasn't acting any differently than before Lucien's death, and the two had never much spoken when he was alive, but there were some things that grieving for over two years lent to a person, and the ability to sense similar emotions in others was one. "Have you tried Gerard?"

Gerard was the friendliest of the pack-mates, the most likely to argue for another's entrance. While they were cliquish, the three in the pack were the most stable in the ward and the people that Hermione worried about the least. She would have loved to secure a spot there for Zev.

Zev picked at the lint residing on his bed's comforter. "Steven and Verona scare me."

Hermione suspected without any proof to back it up that the three of them were sleeping together, which was what cemented their existence as a pack and precluded the involvement of others. Which meant that Zev shouldn't be a threat to that. It was a gamble, but one she felt needed to be taken. "I know, me too. But sometimes you've gotta stand up to what's scaring you if you plan on getting what you want."

"Easy for you to say. You're a hero. I know, my parents used to talk about Hermione Granger all the time. Her and Ron Weasley and The Boy Who Lived."

Hermione imagined she hated that nickname more than Harry had ever thought to. Quietly, she said, "We were very scared too, Zev. Voldemort's death was something we wanted very badly. Almost as badly, I'd imagine, as you want somebody to play Exploding Snap with."

Zev folded his legs up to his chest and rocked for a bit. "Would you play a game with me, before you go? I mean, if you don’t have somewhere to be."

"I have enough time." Hermione stood up and walked to the bed, careful not to touch him as she sat. Between having been bitten and his treatment by his parents and the doctors in the aftermath, Zev wasn't much a fan of physical contact these days. In the three weeks he'd been on the ward, the only time he'd let Hermione touch him was when he was in the wolf's body.

Zev lit up like a Clabbert(2) infested tree, and he began to deal out the deck he left on his nightstand at all times. "Great!"

Hermione was pretty sure she would be finding time to play two or three games.

*

It was the oddest sensation in a lifetime of being hit by hexes and spells and even the odd full-out curse. Hermione imagined it was a bit what being stuffed into a trunk less than half her size would feel like, only blessedly without pain. Almost as though the trunk had once been her home and whenever she returned to it, her body found ways to accommodate the smaller habitat.

Everything smelled differently. Minerva's scent was sharper, more threatening, and she could smell horses, which should have been impossible, as the only ones kept on the grounds were the Thestrals, and they were let loose in the Forest when not needed.

Transforming back was harder. Animal-Hermione's thought processes worked oddly, more jumbled than her normal semi-linear paths of thinking. It took a while to fully form the return spell satisfactorily and feel the reverse transformation, like stepping back out of the increasingly comfortable trunk.

"So?" Hermione inquired casually, as if the moment before hadn't taken months of expert tutelage and practice to achieve.

Oddly, Minerva responded with, "Were you afraid of me?"

"It…the form was. I'm still in there, though."

"You are ready to be registered, then," Minerva pronounced.

"Registered as what? What was I?"

Minerva turned her best enigmatic expression on Hermione. "You couldn't guess?"

Hermione ordered the facts available. Something smaller than her, considerably so, with an innate fear of humans who could smell the dank iron scent of Thestrals from over a kilometer away. "A horse guardian. I'm a Porlock(8)."

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Minerva murmured. "Rather appropriate, don't you think?"

Unwilling to give Minerva the immediate satisfaction of delving into why her alternate-self would choose this form, Hermione shot back, "Our hair does have a certain likeness."

"Well, Porlocks are very sweet looking, so in that, yes, I suppose there is a familiarity between your two forms."

Hermione resisted the call to Transform back, into a body that allowed no communication between her and this woman who saw everything. "I think, sometimes, that I trust humans less than the people I work with, shut away from the world through no fault of their own. They might not trust me or even like me, but I get them, and it's just more comfortable."

Minerva stepped into Hermione's personal space. Hermione made herself stay still. Minerva smiled sadly, "I was speaking of your tendency to protect those weaker than yourself."

Hermione took several careful swallows. "That never goes quite the way I want it to."

"It saved our world," Minerva reminded her.

"I'm tired of being the heroine." The words were more accepting than bitter, more resigned than angry. Hermione felt it was long past time when she deserved to be protected.

*

Despite all intentions otherwise, Hermione found herself tripping down stairs that had taken her to her least favorite class for seven terribly short years. She would have liked Potions, she always thought, after all there were few magical subjects as well-recorded as the science of potion development and brewing, but Snape's constant barrage of hate had taken its toll on her and she had turned from the subject eventually, drawn in by the complexities of arithmancy, the sublime aspects of Transfigurations and the information she could glean from Hagrid's rather haphazard lectures and then pursue later on her own time outside of Care of Magical Creatures.

For all her antipathy, though, she barely had to open her eyes to make it down the twist of stone steps, under the hissing frieze snakes that Harry had once confided were merely gossiping like so many other Hogwart's portraits, through the three structure support arches and into Snape's classroom. He was there, as she had expected. She knew he supplied both Mungo's and the school with much of their back-up and emergency potions stores, so it would only have made sense for him to use his classroom after hours as a brewing spot.

The classroom smelled odd. It was a familiar smell, one that Hermione knew, yet did not think of as being connected with this place. It took her a few minutes to place it. "Apple cider?"

He turned. She knew he was aware of her presence or she would not have spoken. Startling Snape was never a good idea. Luckily, it was hard to sneak up on him, particularly in the dungeons, where everything and every being reported anything unusual straight to him. "Harvesting cyanide. It's a pleasant side effect."

Hermione smiled. "Mum always adds a drop of clover honey in."

"I should think that would make it far too sweet," he lifted his chin in a gesture of arrogance that was ruined by the fact that he was sitting on a stool, the top of his head just reaching her nose.

"It doesn't," was all she said, unwilling to get into a fight over something so insignificant. She hadn't come down here to squabble. "Redda tells me she was able to remember who I was last transformation. That's unusual. Generally they can remember who they are, but only in the most basic sense, for instance, they know they're human and that the wolf is just an illusion. They can rarely remember solid facts though, such as friends, enemies. Zev says he could remember me too, but I might be a more important presence in his life than Redda's. The pack says they're more aware of their…friendship while transformed, something they're grateful enough to send thanks for."

He bent his head down over the cauldron with the simmering drink in it, avoiding Hermione's pointed appreciation. "I suppose living with a beast inside of you makes it hard for one to understand the subtler points of improvement upon a potion."

"No, Professor," Hermione hardened her voice, "I think it is you who are missing the subtler points. It worked, perhaps not as well as you were hoping, but well enough for them to see it and be grateful. Might I remind you, it is they who have to writhe on the ground as their bones break and reform each month, they who have to spend three nights in a mind that is just barely their own, they who are kept in a prison because of a condition they no more sought out than one seeks out a Cruciatus. I believe my message of thanks deserves a 'you're welcome' to give in return."

Snape brought his eyes up to hers and she prepared herself for an onslaught of cruelty prepared with an exactitude rarely seen among the most influential of rhetorists. Instead he bit out, "I should think you would be disappointed enough in the 'development' to understand why I cannot accept such gratitude at this time."

Hermione played the response back to herself. "I feel rather foolish. I thought I heard you pay me a compliment."

"Don’t be asinine. When a student is willing to listen, my teaching is well beyond average. I am intimately aware of the extent to which you are versed in potion making."

"Your teaching would be extraordinary," Hermione allowed, "if you bothered to get past your arrogance and bitterness long enough to actually, say, instruct."

Knowing perfectly well when it was time to leave and give her point some room to breathe, Hermione spun on her heel and strode calmly out of the room, underneath the arches, past the silent, gaping snakes, and up the too-dark stairs. She imagined she could hear his angered pants long past the front gates of Hogwarts, annihilated only by the loud crack of her Disapparating departure.

*

Healer Smethwyck intercepted Hermione before she was able to reach the ward a day after the last evening of the full moon. It had been the first time that Hermione had been able to transform and she had for all three of the nights. CubZev had been absolutely thrilled at having a pint-sized playmate. The rest of the wolves hadn't interacted much with her new form, but hadn't actively avoided it as they had her human one. It was something -- enough that she didn't regret months of training.

"Ms. Granger," the Healer called, popping his head from his office. "Can I have a moment?"

Hermione headed into the office, worried. The Healers in the ward hadn't much interfered with her work, to the extent of neglecting werewolf patients. Then again, the one time Emmett, another of the loner werewolves, had spoken to her, he had made it clear that neglect was a regular feature of their sect of the ward, even before she had shown up. Hermione made it a point to try and fill in where the care lacked and to confront Sisters about it, but so far, most of her efforts in that department had been for naught. Once she had walked in the door of the Healer's office she invited herself to take a seat. "Something on your mind?"

"You have a new kid. Of sorts."

Hermione frowned. "Of sorts."

"He was brought in this morning, Apparated in while he was unconscious by a wizarding hermit who lives in a wooded area of the Czech Republic. Heard this werewolf during the last transformation. Waited until today to bring it in, smart on his part, since this one obviously hasn't been medicating."

"It would be hard to get Wolfsbane in the woods. Why did the wizard bring him here? There are at least three major wizarding hospitals closer to that area."

Healer Smethwyck swallowed. "He has a Ministry tattoo."

Hermione closed her eyes, fighting with everything against the bacteria of hope threatening to infect her whole system. "Has he been ID'ed?"

"We sent the information to the Ministry, but they've yet to respond." If the Healer saw anything odd in her reaction, he didn't let on. "I just wanted to let you know, I doubt he'll be anything like the others in there, he's been out in the world for quite some time since infection."

Hermione nodded without really hearing. It can't be. I won't- Remus. Remus who had disappeared in the midst of the last battle and never been heard from again. Remus who couldn’t be found by the best of Aurors and wizards this world had to offer, not Tonks or Kingsley or even Minerva. Remus, who had been presumed dead for well over a year now. It couldn't be.

Hermione was glad that her reflexes were so well trained in the art of getting her from one spot to the next, of moving without actual motivation. Zev ran up to her once she reached the doorway, stopping just short of actual contact. Shaking her head just a bit, attempting to get past the shock and concentrate on the nine year old with scared eyes standing in front of her, she reached out and pulled him into a hug. Oddly, he came into it willingly, eagerly. Hermione suspected that Zev's treatment at the hands of the wizarding world had taught him that he was unworthy to touch, but had not cured him of the need for physical affection.

It took her a bit to realize that she wasn't shaking, rather, Zev was so forcefully it felt as though it was originating underneath her skin. "Zev, shh. Shh. What's wrong?"

Zev shook his head and refused to say anything, even after Hermione bent down to his level, swept the hair out of his eyes and coaxed, "It's okay, I won't laugh."

Silently, he turned and walked further into the ward, glancing back to make sure she was following. She was. He made his way into the deepest recesses in the ward, leaving Hermione at the door of the room they used for those werewolves who had failed in killing themselves but managed serious damage in the process.

Even at the doorway the room smelled of blood and sickness. The werewolf was curled up on his side, his back to the door, the covers thrown off of him to reveal sharp knifing vertebrae, deep self-inflicted slashes everywhere, numerous scars that Hermione recognized as being unhealed curse hits, and hips so gaunt as to be dangerous. Hermione crept closer, sensing his fevered heat at a distance. She walked carefully around the bed, not wanting to have to turn him, wake him.

His face was more bone than anything else, scars gracing the area around the hairline and underneath his right eye. Every aspect of him was whittled, as though someone had carved him out of wood and kept carving until the figure was a mere caricature of what it was meant to be. There were more marks than Hermione had ever thought to see on one person, more signs of survival where it had perhaps not been wont, or wanted.

It wasn't the face or the body that she remembered, but she remembered it all the same. When Zev came back to find her sitting on a conjured chair next to the bed and crying, he took the chance of climbing into her lap. "Minny." He shook her a little. She'd told him the nickname to make him laugh one day when he was scared about the pain of transforming. "Minny. What's wrong?"

She hugged him to her to decrease his worry. "I think I'm just happy, Zev."

"But you're crying."

"I know. It's…sometimes people forget how to be happy properly, and this is all they can manage."

Zev seemed to accept this as he asked, "Why are you happy?"

"He's my friend, Zev. He's my friend, and he's alive."

Zev looked at the man on the bed doubtfully. Hermione gave a watery laugh. It felt almost as good as the tears.

*

After a day and a night of bearing constant vigil, Nora showed up, looking for all the world to be Florence Nightengale On A Mission. She was plump but with the obvious musculature of someone who believes that using mobilicorpus over human touch is a copout, and her hair, a decent imitation of Hermione's except for the strawberry blond tint of it was streaming out of its twisty. Her eyes, pretty blue and nearly always smiling except when she was angry, were set in the expectation of an argument. Nora was the only Sister that Hermione trusted to care for the werewolves while not being watched over, but Hermione still knew what she was bracing for when she ordered Hermione to go home and get some rest.

"I'm staying." Hermione hadn't gone without a fight. A fight somewhat lacking in luster, as she'd been up for nearly four nights straight now, with the change being the three nights before Remus had shown up, but still, a fight.

"No," Nora disagreed, "you're not. I promise I'll floo if there's any change, but you're going."

"You can't stay with him, you won't know immediately if there's any-"

"I talked with Healer Smethwyck, I've been put off of rotation for today so that I can sit with him. After all," she lowered her voice to a stage whisper, "he might be dangerous."

The two women rolled their eyes at that. Hermione leaned over the bed, kissing Remus's forehead. "I'll be back."

She squeezed Nora's hand. "Thanks."

"None needed. My two baby brothers were under his command on a few of their Order missions. Anyone who thinks he's less than human can chuff off."

Hermione savored the curl of warmth in her chest at the sentiment. She nodded her goodbye and set out, climbing the levels until she could Apparate. With a bit of concentration and a loud CRACK, Hermione found her way into the Weasley-Tonks household. "Gin, Nymph!"

"In here, luv."

Hermione followed Ginny's voice to the kitchen, where Nymph was engaged in her morning task of attempting to scramble eggs without under or overcooking them. It was something Ginny could do with her eyes shut, but Nymph insisted on having the skill, regardless of the fact that she couldn't come up with a single instance in which she might absolutely need it and be sans Ginny.

"Mind if I steal a spot?" Hermione's hand was already on the heated kettle as she asked, and Ginny merely handed her a cup, never once looking away from her girlfriend bent over the hob, peering with scrutiny at a mess of bright yellow.

"What has you positively chipper this morn, Min?" Nymph stole the pan off the hob as though one more second would be the difference between egg perfection and total and utter ruin.

Glancing at the eggs, Hermione was pretty sure it was already past that point. Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it. "I had this plan to just, come here and tell you. But now it seems… Yesterday when I went into the ward, Smethwyck called me into his office and told me we had a new patient. This one had been infected some time ago and was found, wounded and privation weakened by a man who lives out in the wilds of Eastern Europe."

Nymph had shoved the eggs onto a plate and made her way to the kitchen table where Hermione had settled to nurse her tea. "Please tell me you're saying what I think you're saying. Because if you're not, you're being cruel."

"It's him, Nymph. It's Remus."

Ginny lowered herself into the extra chair at the table. "Holy… How? Why? Where has he been? Have you told him-"

"He hasn't woken up yet, Gin. He's a mess, much worse than I've ever seen him, even when he would come back from Order business. I only left because Nora promised to stay with him and contact me immediately if there was a change."

"Mungo's has this floo as a secondary contact for you, correct?" Nymph held out a forkful of eggs to Hermione.

Hermione politely took it into her mouth and even more politely didn't make a face. "Not quite there, Nymph. And yes."

Nymph poked at the eggs angrily. "Stay here, then, in the guest. You've the look of the positively knackered, and Gin's roasting a chicken for dinner. Yes?"

"I'll even stick in a few of those baby potatoes you like," Ginny cajoled.

Hermione drew in a deep breath and exhaled, trying to get rid of the momentary pang that Ginny's channeling her mum had caused. "Sugar biscuits for after?"

"Oh, please, please." Nymph bounced in her seat.

Ginny grinned, "Only if you decorate."

Hermione buried her head in her arms, remembering the last Nymph biscuit decorating adventure. Nobody had escaped being decorated. Nymph cackled, and Ginny chimed, "Sure, sounds lovely."

Hermione Sent her teacup to the sink and herself to bed. She was on the verge of sleep, that moment between waking and unconscious bliss when Ginny came and snuggled up next to her. "It would be good, him being alive."

What Hermione heard was things about second chances and hope and life going on, but she didn't answer, because what Ginny had said was as true as anything she could come up with as a response. Instead, she burrowed into Ginny's hold and fell asleep there, relieved that for once, it didn't remind her of being in anyone else's arms.

*

Nora's floo, naturally, came just as Nymph had finished face-painting Hermione's right cheek with pastel-blue icing. Hermione stepped into the fireplace and walked down the hall of Mungo's removing swaths of the icing with her finger and disposing of it by way of licking. She felt stupid until Redda laughed at her as she crossed the open area of the ward to where Remus was being kept. Then she just gave a guilty smile and a shrug and continued on her way.

Nora met her at the door, squeezed the non-sticky hand in her own, and exited. "I'm going to leave you two alone."

Which wasn't strictly true, seeing as how someone -- most likely Nora -- had set up a cot for Zev in the corner of the room and he was curled up, fast asleep atop it. Still, alone enough.

Hermione sat down in the chair kept warm by Nora. "Remus?" She asked the question quietly, not brave enough to ask it loudly and risk him not answering.

Remus peeled one eye open. Then, after a long while, the other. "Her- Her-my-"

Hermione grabbed the glass of water from the medicine table and cast a Cooling Charm on it. She supported his head, careful to touch as little of him as possible and guided the glass to his lips, allowing the water to seep into his mouth ever so slowly. He pushed a hand lightly at her wrist when he was done and she withdrew.

"Hermione," he managed, as she set the glass back on the table.

"Remus," she repeated.

"How…?" He let his eyes wander the room, indicating what he wanted.

"You were brought here by a wizard who lived in those woods you were borrowing for the moon."

Remus let his eyes drop shut. "Tried to…stay away-"

"From everything, evidently." Hermione tried to keep the words even, untouched by emotion. She knew that the loss of Dumbledore, Sirius and Harry had eaten away at Remus in ways with which she was intimately familiar. Remus, who was so very used to being spit upon, abused and abandoned by the denizens of the wizarding world, only to find family of sorts and then lose it. But she had still been there. Her and Ginny and Nymph and Charlie and Minerva. And his deception had given them one more loss to mourn unfairly.

Remus shifted, turning his back to her. "They were the reason I did all this, Hermione."

Hermione counted backward from ten. She enacted a Calming Charm. She listed all the reasons she shouldn't get mad. She retorted, "You're not the only fucking person who lost everyone, Remus Lupin."

His fury would have been better than his resigned, "I'm sorry for that, Hermione. But I'm tired of being tied to other people's pain."

Hermione exhaled through her nose, shaking her head sharply. "You know something, my friend?"

Remus didn't respond, but his breathing hadn't evened out either, and Hermione knew he was listening. "Too. Bloody. Bad."

Hermione got up and left the room, determined to give him some time to think that over.

*

"Not fond of giving up, are you?"

Hermione nearly tripped over her own toes at the sound of a voice she'd never heard before. Slowly, as if sudden movements might cause him to flee, she turned toward Kieran. "I've only done it once," she explained, "and the results were less than satisfying."

Kieran was the oldest of the quiet cult. He had turned himself into St. Mungo's after his wife had died in the war, his file stated his reason for coming as an "uncertainty as to whether he could safely live out the full moon without harming those in the immediate vicinity." Kieran never spoke to anyone, so far as Hermione could tell, although he seemed to harbor a silent, protective fondness for Redda and the two other loners, Emmett and Ruel.

Kieran had a registry tattoo on his wrist, where all registry tattoos necessarily went and he reacted perfectly well to the Wolfsbane, so Hermione was somewhat mystified by his choice to stay at Mungo's, but he didn't talk, so she respected that and didn't ask.

He laughed at the look Hermione could feel glued to her face. "I can talk. I just very rarely find myself with things to say."

"But you have something now."

"I read an interesting article in The Prophet this morning," Kieran told her.

"You should know better than to believe any of that rubbish," she scolded lightly, as though afraid he would wander off and never finish the conversation.

"Truth can be gleaned from even the worst of lies, my dear."

He had a gentle smile and a mischievous quirk in his eyes that sent a pang of longing for Dumbledore straight through her, robbing her of breath for a second. "What truth do you suppose you've uncovered?"

"The man in there is Remus Lupin, is it not?"

Hermione was going to kill the leak. It had to be hospital staff. Rita Skeeter had been accidentally squashed by a startled Muggle some years back and Hermione had done meticulous research into every member of the Prophet's staff while setting up The Department. No other unregistered animagi, Dark Magic experts, or reporters with ghosts in their pockets. If a reporter found something out, it was through a live and knowledgeable source. "It is. I was hoping it would be kept quiet longer than that, but wishes and horses, really."

"Your friendship with him is why you're here in the first place, is it not?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "He's…the man who got me started in thinking about issues of humanity and equality. I suppose in that vein, yes."

"He must have had some influence, to spur you onto regularly pissing off people that could be rather dangerous in pursuit of Werewolf Equality Legislation that gets more unlikely year by year."

Hermione ignored the inference. "You didn't find that out from the paper."

"My wife worked for the Ministry, Hermione. Old friends of hers still keep in touch."

"You've kept silent about all of this until now. What's changed?"

Kieran pursed his lips. "You see us as four and three and one, but in truth, we are just eight. A pack. No matter how much you care for us, both as wolves and as humans, you will never understand the basic way in which a pack is formed. Verbal and physical communication are unnecessary."

"All right," Hermione nodded, "I can see that."

"His presence, if it remains, will change the pack. It will change your relation to the pack."

"I get that adding a member would alter the pack's chemistry, but I don’t understand where I fit into all this."

"You are his. If he is one of us, then you are ours."

Hermione brought a hand up to squeeze at a chord on her neck that had tightened so that she could barely move her head. "I'm not… Look, you have to know the story. Remus was my teacher, later my friend. Never my lover."

"War warps relationships. Surviving war even more so."

"We both-" Hermione started but found she couldn't tell Kieran what they had in common. "We learned similar lessons, is all."

"That is a binding of its own."

Suddenly she knew how Remus had felt, lying in that bed, looking up at her. Cold that started behind her eyes tunneled its way into her knees and she wanted to run screaming from the threat of family, of pack, of something more to loose. Instead, she put a hand to her throat, trying to warm it enough that she could speak. "He'll be staying. At least for a bit."

Kieran began to turn, "Then I suspect we'll be talking again at some point."

*

"They tell me you're not eating." Hermione leaned against the doorframe to Remus's room and waited for an invitation to enter.

Remus didn't look at her. "'They' the other inmates or 'They' the wardens?"

"Zev and Nora, so half and half really." She gave up on niceties and crossed the threshold, walking to the side of the bed where she could see Remus's face. She sat down and held out the plasticware container Ginny had sent with her. Popping a corner of the lid so that some of the smell would escape, she told him, "Compliments of Ginny. Think you could manage a bite?"

Hermione had gotten to believing he was going to refuse when he sat up slowly, trying to position himself comfortably. He finished shifting and held out his hands, "Well."

Hermione gave the container over. "There's a fork inside."

He opened the container all the way, peering inside with a look of suspicion, as though the contents might disappear at any moment. "It looks just like Molly's."

"Her recipe," Hermione confirmed of the rum-spice cake topped with a sugar glaze into which Remus was beginning to carve. It was far from the healthiest thing she could have brought, but watching his fingers curve around the fork reminded her of the exaggerated animated skeletons of children's Halloween fare, and she didn't care about proper nutrients so much as sustenance.

"Zev sneaks in here at night," Remus fit the words in between chews, "to sleep."

"Let him, all right?" She added for good measure, "Please."

"He was left here?"

Hermione fought a smile at the way Remus was licking his lips, trying to swipe up every last bit of the sugar glaze. "Yes. Some months ago."

"Who's paying for his stay?"

Hermione glanced away. "This is a bit hush hush, just so you know, but Charlie and I 'reappropriated' some of the DoMC's funds to take care of it. It's working for the moment, but I haven't a clue what to do if more show up. It's one of the measures I'm working on. I'm drafting an Act. It's not half so radical as I would prefer, but spoonful of sugar, as my mum used to say. There would still be registry, but full-paying jobs, equal housing rights, the right to carry wands, and protection and schooling for abandoned werecubs. Something, at any rate."

Chasing the remaining crumbs with the fork, Remus inquired, "And how many enemies have you made for yourself with this little crusade?"

"I prefer not to count," Hermione admitted. "I'm a hard one to attack publicly, given majority sentiment at the moment, so I keep note of whose toes I've stepped on and make sure that I wear sturdy enough shoes to protect my own."

"What do they think of all this?" Remus inclined his head toward the door leading into the larger ward.

"They're not a collective, they think different things. Zev has a case of hero worship, and Kieran and Redda, so far as I can tell, both think rather fondly of me as a quixotic little fool. Ruel abhors me, tried to bite me on the first three moons that I stayed with them in my human form. Gerard kept him off and now he mostly just ignores me. Gerard, Steven and Verona think I'm crazy, but otherwise don't seem to mind me. Emmett's afraid of taking a stance against Ruel or Redda and so he treats me with thinly veiled disdain."

"I think you've inherited a bit of Harry's saviour complex," Remus put in.

Hermione remembered warning Harry off of just such behavior, the crushing knowledge that she had been right and that those who were still alive would have to live with that, but all she said was, "I haven't learned to give up the things that he left me just yet."

It left her open, they both knew it, but Remus didn't pursue it. Corner by corner he resealed the container, now empty except for the fork. "Tell Ginny thank you."

She took the container from his hands. "I will." She moved to the door, practically out in the hall when she asked, "You'll eat?"

"Maybe."

Hermione hadn't been innately optimistic since she'd watched her lovers and a good majority of her friends die. But against all odds, Remus was sitting up in the bed behind her, alive and relatively whole. She decided to think that maybe was half way to yes.

*

What was left of the door to the ward was scattered across the hall, twisted, still-smoldering wood left to burn out on its own. Hermione resolutely stepped in between the pieces, careful not to catch her robe on one, and entered the ward. "Zev?"

Steven, Gerard and Verona were in the common space at the front of the ward. When the Dai Llewellyn had been remodeled to possibly house werewolves on a permanent basis in the aftermath of Fudge's pushing through the Werewolf Safety Act in Hermione's seventh year, it had been set up something like a Hogwarts House, with a common room and then several "dorms" which were really just converted hospital rooms, with all the comfort that implied.

Taking a chance that they would actually respond, Hermione attempted, "Got tired of being cooped up, did he?"

While it wasn't unlikely that one or two of the adult ward inhabitants could affect wandless magic, she doubted they would have tried it on anything so useless. Most of them stayed of their own choice, unwilling to be branded and excommunicated from the world they knew. Those werewolves who chose to stay outside Mungo's walls and declined to take the brand spent their lives either running or in the Muggle world. But a child, even if he knew he had nowhere to go, could easily blow up a door without meaning to if he was scared enough or angry enough or sad enough.

Gerard gave her what she wanted, "He's been sicking up in the loo ever since he did it. Your friend is with him."

"Remus?"

That was evidently all Gerard felt up to saying, though, as he turned back to his conversation with the others and didn't give her anymore. Hermione headed off to the male bathroom. She knocked lightly, "Zev? May I come in?"

"Minny?"

Hermione winced at the raw quality of the boy's voice. "It's me."

"You can come in."

Hermione stepped inside. The stench was sickening, she touched her fingers to the wand inside her pocket and chanted a quick air-cleansing charm. Remus threw a look of relief her way, but didn't move from where he was, kneeling behind Zev, one shaky hand stroking the boy's hair. Zev, for his part, was leaning up against the toilet, his cheek laying against the porcelain seat, too exhausted to do much more than breathe. Hermione settled herself on the floor across from Remus, their feet touching in the cramped space. Gently, she repositioned Zev so that he was in her lap, his head tucked under her chin. "What happened, sweetie?"

"I just wanted to go outside," Zev explained. "I didn’t mean to blow the door up."

"Everybody knows that, we all do things like that," Hermione reassured him.

"Tippy yelled at me. She called me a stupid animal."

Tippy was the Sister who had flooed Hermione with the news in the first place. Hermione carefully resisted the urge to set Zev aside and cast a schmorgasbord of hexes on the woman. "She shouldn’t have said that. It was just a mistake. It happens. You're not stupid and you're definitely not an animal."

Zev growled something into Hermione's chest.

"What was that?"

Zev looked up at her. His picture perfect pout would have been adorable had it not been so heartbreaking. "You're the only one who believes that."

Hermione kissed his forehead. "I know it seems that way, but I'm not. I know lots of people who believe the way I do."

"My parents thought I was. Mum called me a…an in-feck-shus creature."

"Your mum was wrong," Remus said suddenly, startling Hermione. "She must have been, because I've known Hermione for almost ten years and in all that time I've never once known her to be wrong. So your mum must be the mistaken one."

Hermione mouthed, "Liar," because she could think of at least six or seven times that she'd been obviously horrifically wrong and Remus had found a way to correct her without humiliating her. She didn't think now was the time to bring those moments up, though, not when Zev was sniffling, "Really?"

Remus nodded solemnly, "Swear it."

Zev sighed, looking a long way from completely convinced. "I just wanna go outside."

"I'll see what I can do," Hermione promised. "Do you think you could take a shower now, get yourself cleaned up?"

It took two tries, but Zev pushed himself to his feet. "Are you still gonna be here when I'm done?"

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere. Except maybe out of this loo, if that's okay?"

Zev made a face at her and scarpered off to get his shampoo and towel.

Remus stayed where he was. "Um. You mind helping me up? The trip from the room here kind of took it out of me."

Hermione rose and dusted off her robes. She leaned down a bit and escorted Remus up to a standing position, her hands tucked safely under his arms. She stayed close, holding on, until she was sure he was upright and planning on staying that way. "It was good of you to stay with him."

Remus breathed deeply. "Redda was too busy tearing Tippy a new one, and she's the only one who pays him any attention in here."

"That saves me one errand, at any rate."

Remus let the shadow of a smile touch his lips. "Surprised me, didn't know she had it in her. It's really too bad you couldn't have been here for it."

Slowly, in case he wanted to try on his own, Hermione wound Remus's arm over her shoulder. "Back to bed?"

"Back to bed."

They made their way slowly, both ignoring the looks that the threesome were giving them. Once in the room, Hermione settled Remus down into the bed. She took out her wand and performed several Cleaning Charms. "Better?"

"A million times. Thank you."

She soothed back an errant hair the way he had done with Zev. "Get some sleep, yeah?"

He closed his eyes. "Yeah."

She was slow to withdraw her hand. "Yeah."

*
Embryo
*

Charlie Weasley was looking at Hermione much like she imagined he had once looked at dragons early in the morning. It was a look that betrayed frenzied excitement at interacting with a creature so unpredictable and yet a healthy dose of wariness, to make sure he survived dealing with that particular trait.

"What? Tell me what you're thinking," she demanded.

"That you don't know what you're getting into."

The nice thing with Charlie was that he'd worked among the dragons for so long that he'd forgotten how to pad his answers the way most people did. With him, an answer was an answer. No riddles or hidden truths and definitely no lies. Hermione wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to keep his position as head of a Ministry Department so long amongst all the petty and powerful bureaucrats alike who must have despised this particular character trait. She suspected it had to do with the martyr status with which most of the post-war wizarding world viewed the Weasley family. It was never a popular move to sack a lone-surviving hero.

The other thing Hermoine loved about Charlie, was the way he actually listened to an argument before making up his mind. "Once I take him out, he has to be registered, which involves, among other things, a magical tattoo with a Tracing Charm designed not to fail but is obviously as useful as fuckall since nobody could find Remus and he has one.

"The adoption involves my statement that I can provide regular treatments of Wolfsbane for him and make sure that he is in no way capable of attacking the human populace during the time of the full-moon. The apartment I let will have to be given up because it, like all other buildings, abides by the WPA's housing guidelines stating that werewolves are not to be allowed rooming space in structures wherein possible victims reside alongside the werewolf. I will have to school him myself as werewolf children cannot be placed in day or boarding schools among non-infected children. I will need to provide as much love and care as humanly possible as nobody else in his life has seen fit to do so since he accidentally found himself overpowered by a fully-grown maddened werewolf who most likely would have killed him except for getting distracted by something larger halfway through. Am I leaving anything out?"

Charlie added, "You risk your stance as objective outsider in your lobbying efforts."

Hermione snorted, "As though anyone believed that to begin with."

"I just want you to consider this from every angle. Adopting a nine-year old kid with emotional issues and a condition that alienates him from nearly every other wizard is not something…well, I would be scared. Let's just say that."

Hermione whistled, impressed. "I had begun to think nothing scared you."

"No telling Gin and Nymph. I have a reputation to maintain."

"Yeah," Hermione gave an exaggerated nod of her head, "you should be real worried. Do the words "hero" and "worship" mean anything to you?"

Charlie wasn't easily embarrassed, but talking about the way people he loved looked up to him was a certain path to a full-facial blush. His neck even got in on the action. "Silly twits." He let himself be distracted for all of a second. "You can afford a house?"

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "You know that Sirius left everything to Harry, yes?"

Charlie narrowed his eyes. "Yes."

"Well, Harry left everything to be split between Ron and me." Hermione did her best to hold Charlie's gaze. She failed.

"So you inherited both the Potter and the Black fortunes?"

"I'm something of an heiress," Hermione admitted.

"No shit. What have you been doing living in that rathole of yours?"

Hermione's eyes shot back up. "I… It hardly seemed important to me, living by myself and all. I spend most of my time at your sister's, anyway."

"It explains why they accepted the money for all the renovations for Christmas. I was rather aghast at the time, truth be told."

"Oh, believe you me, it was something of a row. I won, is all. If Ron…part of that money should have been your family's."

Charlie just shook his head. "Okay. That pretty much eradicates the rest of my objections. Have you an idea of where you'll be moving to?"

"Not a clue, I was going to ask around, see what suggestions people came up with. I thought Minerva might be a good source of information on that front."

"I'll start pushing the paperwork through. It's going to be a bit, you realize?"

Hermione did her best to stay calm as she answered, "I realize."

"You're…" Charlie cleared his throat and fiddled with the quill on his desk, as though unsure of how to continue. "I haven't seen you this willing to care about someone since they died."

Hermione felt herself go white. "I care about you and Ginny and Nymph."

"Completely against your will. We practically held you in one place until we were sure you hadn’t the strength to run. This is different."

Hermione slowly put words, phrases, sentences together in her head, trying to make sense of who she had become in the past two years, of the girl she would have to leave behind if she was to survive. "I miss them, Charlie. So much that barely a night goes by where I don’t see them, and never does a day pass when I don’t think of them. But I have begun to miss being a part of something even more than I miss the specific people of whom I was a part. Does that-"

"It makes perfect sense," Charlie assured her.

"I won't ever forget them."

"Well I know," Charlie agreed softly.

"Thank you for understanding."

Charlie rolled his eyes at her, "For such a smart girl."

*

The parchment was crisp and the ink unsmudged and Hermione knew exactly who had sent her the note without having to read his tidy, "Severus Snape" at the bottom. What she did have to do was consider his invite -- more a demand to see him than anything else -- and what she planned to do about it.

She was about to spend quite some time having a loud and possibly nasty argument with herself when she made a split decision. "You're a curious girl, Granger. Is spiting him really worth your death from the suspense of it all?"

It wasn't, so Hermione Apparated herself to the gates of Hogwarts and made her way to Snape's dungeons. She couldn't find him in his classroom or his lab. She considered asking one of the students that periodically wondered by, but any student traipsing about the dungeon in the evening was bound to be a Slytherin and War Hero or no, Hermione doubted they'd help a Gryffindor. Some rivalries lasted even without Dark Overlords to perpetuate hostilities.

Luckily, the Bloody Baron floated into her line of vision and Hermione inquired, "Snape about tonight?"

"In his rooms," the Baron's voice always made Hermione nauseated, with its ethereal nails-on-a-chalkboard quality. "Third door past the labs on the left."

"Right, thanks," Hermione set off in the given direction.

She knocked briskly and waited. The door was opened shortly. Hermione thought she caught a flicker of surprise in Snape's expression before he stood back to let her inside. "Had you thought to send a response, I could have told you my whereabouts."

"Let's pretend my presence is a pleasant shock, shall we?" Hermione walked ahead of him into the quarters she had never before seen until she found a chair and settled herself comfortably into it. "You said you had something to discuss with me."

Snape glared, but lowered himself onto the sofa not far from the chair. "Minerva says you are seeking a house with specific qualities."

Hermione didn't answer directly, "You must know why."

"You're attempting to adopt the werewhelp in that Ward you dote upon."

Hermione stood. "Thank you for your time, Snape. I'll owl you at the next full to discuss the success or lack-thereof of the hybrid-Jabberknoll infusion."

She was nearly at the door, beginning to worry that he wouldn't unspell them, just leave her to work through the wards on her own when he called, "I have a place for you and the boy."

She stayed facing away from him. "Boy?"

"That's what he is, yes?" Snape asked with tangible irritation. "Twenty seven out of every thirty nights?"

"People forget that," Hermione shot back. "But I should remember that you hate everything with equal intensity. It makes your vitriol easier to stomach."

She turned and they fell into an unintentional staring contest which Snape broke first. "It's not so far from here. Far enough that you will not be bothered by anyone. There's a small Loch nearby and it's unplottable, which I do not doubt you will find convenient."

Hermione's mum had a saying about things that seemed too good to be true. They generally were. "A family holding?"

"Hardly," Snape's voice rivaled the Baron's for sheer hackle-raising qualities. "My father gambled away his rather sizeable inheritance, right down to the Manor. No, this is something Albus left me, a one time safe house for my use only. As the war is over, I see no use in my keeping it, leaving it to collect dust."

They weren't friends, but Hermione knew enough to know they weren't enemies either. "I can’t take something Albus gave you."

"The old fool most likely left it to me in hopes that it would encourage a yearning toward family in me. But he is gone and I'm quite able to avoid his meddling now, so it would be best used by someone who is not a Greasy Old Potions Master."

Hermione could hear the capitalization as clearly as she could hear the echo of loss whenever he spoke of Dumbledore. "Stop it."

"Please, Miss Granger, it was hardly personal. You were far from the first children to hurl that epitaph and so far, have proven not to be the last either."

Recognizing fire when she saw it and still completely tempted to play among the flames, Hermione challenged, "I will take the house if you will tell me one honest thing about your relationship with Dumbledore."

"Why should I care whether or not you take the house?"

"I haven't a clue, but you evidently do. One truth, or have you forgotten how?"

"He trusted me," Snape bit back with a twisted smile of triumph.

Hermione knew why, as well. The smile laughed, "I've told you nothing you didn’t know," but the smile was wrong. There was a difference in knowing something and being told by someone else who knew. Of all the things Hermione understood in this world, loss was by far the most indelibly grafted into her psyche. Because of that, she let him think he had won. "You can owl any specifics about the house to my flat. I'll be there until I move. Just give a date that we can set upon getting our things into the place."

She turned again, walking to the door, glad to discover the wards down when she reached it. She had never heard him weave the words to release the spells.

*

It was unfortunate, but Hermione was going to have to kill Charlie and Remus for not mentioning this tiny detail about the werewolf branding process. "When he agreed to do this, he wasn't told there wouldn't be a Numbing Potion involved."

Underneath the hand she had on his shoulder, Zev had passed right through trembling and into full out shaking, but he had stayed completely silent, keeping both eyes on the ignited fire needle used for such processes.

"Ms. Granger, you're going to have to move out of the way," the Ministry's tech said, holding the fire needle at ready.

Ms. Granger had no plans to go anywhere. She was standing nearly in front of him, facing the tech coming at him from the side, due to the fact that they had not yet given him anything to drink, something Hermione had been planning on. "Give him a Potion, I'll move right along." She added sweetly, "Promise."

"We're not authorized to give creatures a Potion, it's a waste of valuable resources," the tech explained in a tone that suggested she considered Hermione to have the mental abilities of a two-year old. "Besides, it wouldn’t matter, they're animals, they don’t feel it like we do anyway."

"Ah," Hermione breathed, as though this cleared everything up. She removed her hand from Zev's shoulder, regretting it the moment he went stock-still -- most likely in terror that she would allow this -- but determined in her course of action all the same. She pulled her wand from her right pocket and carelessly cast a Mirroring Spell to bind the tech and Zev.

The tech's eyes went wide. "What'd you do that for?"

"If he doesn't feel it," Hermione mimicked lightly, "then it shouldn't be a problem for you to feel exactly what he does, should it?"

The tech stood still, breathing loudly for a bit before laying the fire needle down. "I'll see what I can do to find a potion."

"Find one, and I'll see what I can do about removing the spell," Hermione offered with a sense of her own magnanimity.

The tech scurried off. Hermione turned to Zev, "I would never let anybody hurt you. No matter what they told me the reason was, but especially not because they think you're less than human. Are we clear?"

Zev's breathing was erratic, but his pupils were less dilated than the second before. He seemed to be calming down. "I guess…it's just a little bit of pain. I'd do it to stay with you. Am I really gonna be able to go outside?"

Without realizing what she was doing, Hermione brought a hand to the center of her chest, where the first of her fire tattoos, willingly burnt into her skin, lay. "Trust me, you'll want the potion. And yes, you'll be able to go outside all you want."

"I think I could do anything for that," Zev confided.

It was easy to face anything when anything was merely a faceless conglomerations of somethings, Hermione knew. Nonetheless, she ruffled his hair, "Brave kid."

"Must be the wolf," Zev joked, with something very similar to bitter sincerity coloring the words.

Hermione shook her head but didn't respond as the tech came hurrying back in with a vial. Hermione noticed it was a topical batch. Not as good as an internal, but good enough. She tested it out on her own skin before lazily waving her wand, "Finite Incantatem."

*

"Why doesn't your Tracking Charm work?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Have a good reason for needing to know?"

"Not particularly." Hermione pressed her lips together, waiting.

"I Confunded the Charm. A Tracking Charm works off an innate awareness of where one is, correct? So if you trick it in to believing you never know where you are, it will never register a place."

Hermione was impressed. "Complicated bit of magic, that."

"The twins and I thought it up together." Remus laughed, a dark, sad little sound. "One of their jokes gone wrong."

Hermione took a moment to regain her breath. "Bloody brilliant, those two, but I've always suspected you were quite the wizard yourself."

"It's best that a werewolf not be seen as particularly powerful."

"Gin and Nymph are helping me move. We're almost done. Took a week just to clean all the cobwebs and figure out all the wards. We left most of them up, pretty useful, actually. The girls stripped all the paint and put on fresh coats, Gin went kind of crazy and painted a few murals, but they're nice. The rooms for Zev and me are done, but there's still a guest to be finished and the living room. The kitchen's pretty much ready." Hermione tilted her head. "It's kind of a big place, for one person to hide out in. I suspect Snape is right about Dumbledore's intentions."

Remus made a small sound in the back of his throat, but didn't say anything. Hermione filled in the silence, "The really great part is -- I haven’t told Zev this, so no squealing -- there's a Loch not two minutes from the house."

Slowly, Remus observed, "You're nervous."

"As a first year at the Sorting."

"You're fine with him in here."

"To state the grotesquely obvious, it's a bit different out there."

Remus conceded with a rolling of his neck, "But it's not like you're trying to raise him in the middle of Hogsmeade. It can really only get better."

"Claustrophobia?" Hermione said it quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

"This isn't about me."

"This is about everybody living in this ward."

"There's the starry-eyed girl I knew."

"Fuck you."

"Not up to it just now."

"Leave here. You can stay with us."

"They won't let me, can't figure out how to fix the Charm."

"Remus." Hermione swallowed. "You know how to fix the Charm."

"It's our Charm." Remus didn't deny the allegation. "The three of ours. I'm not ready to give things up yet."

"You're not-" Hermione stopped, held up a hand. "You're not giving anything up. Sirius would die all over again if he saw you caged in here, you know he would."

"He'd have the mercy to kill me first," Remus muttered.

"I'm done killing people," Hermione informed him in a tone that would have frozen vodka solid.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I'm only willing to give up what I absolutely have to."

With a finger, Remus slowly traced the identification number fire-carved into his wrist.

*

From the front hallways of the house, Hermione could hear Nymph going on at length about the improvements in Auror qualification proceedings since Kingsley's rather hesitant ascent to the position of Minister. She hung her coat up on the small rack to the right of the Apparition spot and made her way into the room, somewhat perplexed. Other than her and Charlie, the two women had a considerable number of friendly acquaintances, but rarely ever had any of those over to the house. And Ginny had heard about Kingsley's changes at least seven times. Plus, it wasn't like Ginny to be as silent as Nymph's conversation partner was being.

Hermione understood the reason for Nymph's coherent rambling the moment she was able to see into the living room. Casually, she stepped in, "Afternoon."

She crossed the room to sit next to Nymph on the couch, nodding sharply at Snape, who was standing by the mantel. Nymph put a hand on Hermione's knee and pushed herself up. "I'll be in the kitchen."

Hermione waited until Nymph was outside the room and then, without questioning her own motives, cast a silencing spell. "If I were to be looking for someone, I would most likely go to their flat. This is not my flat."

"Minerva has mentioned once or twice that you very rarely inhabit said flat. I felt this was a more expedient way of catching you face to face."

"And what is so important, that it needed to be communicated that way?"

Snape walked to the closest chair. "Do you mind?"

"Be my guest." Hermione gestured graciously to the chair.

"There are six Potions Masters throughout the whole of the British Isles," he said, completely without conceit, as though he were quoting descriptions in the latest Slug & Jiggers catalogue. "Four of us can prepare the Wolfsbane. Three of us are paid regularly by both private and public entities to do so. How much do you know about the demands of registry on werewolves?"

Hermione blinked. "That it bars them from any type of social acceptance and keeps them within the Ministry's grasp at all times."

"Then you are unaware that it requires a twice-yearly physical check-up at Mungo's?" He sounded surprised.

"Oh, that. I'm aware. I just feel it's one of the lesser evils of the entire situation." Looking at his expression, she was beginning to suspect she would have to alter her perception a bit.

"Mungo's sends the results and sometimes samples of blood taken from the patients to each of the three Masters who make the Bane. It is a way of making sure that their systems don't adapt to the Potion, making it worthless. Already the Potion has been altered three times in the eight years it's been in active use."

"Makes sense."

Snape looked away from her. "Lupin's blood was taken when he was first dropped off at Mungo's, sent off to their labs, myself and my colleagues. There isn't a trace of the Bane in his blood, which suggests he hasn't taken it in over a year, because it lingers for quite some time."

Hermione shifted positions. "He's been taking to the forests during the change, he probably couldn’t afford it."

"It's more than that," Snape disagreed. "There was…I think he took it and discovered it didn’t work for him anymore."

"Why wouldn't it work for him anymore?"

"What is a werewolf's greatest danger?"

"Besides humanity's ignorance?"

Snape's head shot back to where he could meet her gaze. He dipped his chin in acquiesence, "Aside from that."

"Silver."

"Indeed. Now, regardless of what I think of Lupin's intelligence or lack thereof, it seems unlikely to me that he could have attempted to kill himself by way of silver-poisoning and failed, so there must be another explanation for the trace amounts of antibodies in his blood, antibodies that only werewolves can develop and only in response to silver being introduced into their system."

Hermione rolled her hand. "Go on."

"As it is rather rare that a werewolf ever survives contact with silver, these antibodies are almost never seen and were certainly not figured upon when the Bane was created. For whatever reason, they seem to interfere with its effectiveness."

Hermione considered this for a minute before breaking into laughter. Hysterical, sickened laughter that was only worsened by the ill-hidden look of shock in Snape's eyes. She held up a hand, bidding him wait, and got herself under control. "I suppose then, that it would be best to get him out of Mungo's by the next change. The ward is equipped to handle it, but all things considered… Zev transforms and werewolves don't much care to attack Porlocks, he'll be safe with us, and we can keep others safe from him. I don't imagine you're looking into how the problem can be fixed? It hardly seems that it would be worth your time, just for the one wolf."

"It's a challenge," he replied offhandedly. "You're bringing Lupin to live in my house?"

"The house that you sold to me, thereby giving up the right of possessive pronouns when speaking of it? Yes."

"Albus would be so thrilled. Two little Gryffindors setting up house, with their little Gryffindor protégé."

Hermione took a deep breath, letting it out through clenched teeth. "Dumbledore would be horribly disappointed, as he left that house to his little Slytherin to set up house and have little Slytherin protégés."

"I believe you are sadly mistaken about that man's priorities."

"I believe you have the self-worth of a dismissed Winky. Who's right, I wonder?"

Snape's eyes flashed and his hand reached for his wand. Hermione stayed still. After a second, he grunted and took the wand out, Disapparating from right in front of her. Hermione rubbed a hand over her face and went to see if Ginny was home yet.

*

Hermione went into the ward early, when most of the inhabitants would be sleeping still. She gave Kieran, who was scouring The Daily Prophet for anything useful, a nod, and continued on her way to the new room where Remus resided. He was in Lucien's old room, and like all other rooms in the ward -- barring Kieran's, which was filled with photographs and other mementos -- it was completely bare. It was also a shared room, Steven supposedly inhabited the other half, while Redda and Verona were in a room together, Ruel and Emmett, and Kieran and Gerard. At night, though, Gerard and Steven disappeared into Verona's room, and Redda found her way to Kieran's. Hermione wasn't worried about being interrupted.

She sat down on the floor, back against the wall, legs crossed in front of her, and waited for him to wake up. It was over an hour's wait in which she practiced what she would say to him, thought about the newest clause she had been puzzling over for the Act, and pondered what to get Nymph for the birthday she had approaching quickly.

At the first signs of his stirring, Hermione got up and sat on the edge of the bed. He smiled vaguely at her, which was nice. She recognized that it was probably due to him still being groggy, but unconscious reactions told a person a lot. "Hey."

He yawned. "Kind of early, isn't it?"

"I was up." Not an unusual occurrence. Unless she was completely exhausted, Hermione viewed sleep with a healthy dose of weary caution, and sleep pretty much returned the sentiment.

"Something on your mind?"

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. "Look- Snape came to see me last night."

"Sorry to hear that. Have you recovered?"

"I think it was him who needed recovery time," Hermione said dismissively. "Remus. Do you know about the blood laws in the WPA? I looked them up, they're a subclause under the 'Ways and Means to Cut Down on Transference' section."

Remus sat up a little, readjusting the pillows to offer support. "I think I know where we're going with this. He told you the Wolfsbane isn't working for me?"

"First and foremost, yes. Were you going to tell us?" Hermione carefully kept her tone non-judgmental.

"Despite what they say, Hermione, I'm not a monster. Of course I was going to tell you. It just didn't seem necessary until the week of the full. Mungo's has places to keep rabid werewolves. They were built in when the hospital was constructed and Wolfsbane or no, the wizarding population doesn't near to trust werewolves enough to convert those spaces."

Hermione clenched her fists and then flexed her fingers. "For your information, it wouldn't have been necessary. This ward is sealed down for those three days, with just the wolves and me inside of it. Seeing as how I have an animagic form, you wouldn't be a danger to anyone here but yourself. Hence the reason I'm glad I know. And you know something? I'm damn well sorry that I don't transform every month and that I can't understand where all of you are coming from, but I'm doing my best to change things anyway. I don't expect or want gratitude, but I wouldn't mind you easing up on the hostility a bit."

Remus looked away, evidently fascinated by the oak paneling on his door. Hermione sighed. "Snape is looking for a way to fix it. He'll find one, I've no doubt."

"I'm sure."

"Where'd the antibodies come from?"

Remus turned his head, a puzzled look on his face. "Antibodies?"

"There are antibodies to help block silver-poisoning in your blood. Snape says they're almost never seen as most werewolves die from the silver-poisoning in which they're formed. They won't save your life from a more dire attack of the poison, but they'll block smaller things. If you brushed up against something silver, it might hurt, but you probably wouldn't get sick. Of course, this is all theory, seeing as how it's such a rare occurrence. Anyway, that's what he thinks is causing the interference with the Wolfsbane."

"You know that we split into teams to keep different groups of Death Eaters occupied while Harry was taking care of things with Voldemort, right?"

"I helped make the plans."

Remus raised an eyebrow.

"When I came to Dumbledore, with the Spell, the one that killed- He said I had best take part in the logistics of the whole, since I was aware of exactly what went into the Spell. I think he did it so that I would have something to feel sane about later."

Kindly, Remus did not ask if it had worked. "Draco Malfoy was in the set of Death Eaters that my group was assigned to divert. He got close enough to stab me with a knife that he had transfigured into silver. The thing is, though I doubt he had ever paid enough attention to Minerva to realize this, transfigured silver isn't the same as true silver. It looks, smells, and acts the same, but its basic components aren't. It made me sick as all hell, but it didn't kill me, as any wound that considerable made with silver should have."

Hermione nodded. "Did you kill Malfoy?"

Remus' eyes glinted coldly. "Broke his neck. I don’t think he was expecting anything so…Muggle."

"Appropriate," Hermione deemed. After a moment, she changed the subject. "Get up and have breakfast with me and Zev."

"Smuggle anything in?"

The twist of Hermione's mouth was enough to get him up and moving.

*

Hermione gave herself a week to get used to the house before bringing Zev home in late May. She had planned on working a full day in the ward, and then just taking him with her at the end of the day, to a quiet evening at home. Some food, some exploring, some sleep in a bed that actually deserved the name.

The plan was going well until the two of them flooed into the house's living room and were greeted with a shout of, "Welcome home!"

Zev immediately hid behind Hermione. For her part, Hermione catalogued the faces in front of her. Nymph and Ginny were each holding up a big sign with the words, "Happy Housewarming, Zev and Minny!" Hermione had no doubt this affair was all their doing.

Charlie was standing behind the sign, looking slightly sheepish about being caught up in his baby sister's plans. Dean was next to Ginny, grinning so widely Hermione's face cramped with sympathy pangs. Minerva was off to the side, collected and helping to make Hermione's parents, standing beside her, not feel so out of place. Luna Lovegood was explaining something to Millicent Bulstrode, seemingly unaware that Zev and Hermione had arrived. Her boyfriend, Terry Boot, was rolling his eyes fondly at her in the direction of Hermione. A ways behind Minerva, Kingsley stood, quietly nodding at something Snape was saying. Hermione fought a frown. Snape? Her hands tightened briefly around Zev's wrist, which she'd caught onto during his flight behind her. Letting go, she squatted so as to be at eye level with him, "It's all right, they're friends."

Zev peered over her shoulder. "You have a lot of friends."

I had more. "You wanna meet them?"

Zev motioned for her to move in closer. When she had, he whispered, "Do they know…about me?"

"Yeah baby, they know. These people are friends with Remus, too. I told you I wasn't the only one who didn't care."

Zev looked as though he had his doubts, but he took a deep breath and nodded. "All right."

Hermione stood and turned around. "Hey guys. Thanks for the surprise."

She heard Snape make a derisive sound but ignored it, for the moment. Terry, who was wonderfully intuitive and an all around sweetheart, said, "I'm gonna go start in on the food." He dragged Luna with him, and eyed Dean meaningfully. Dean and several of the others followed, leaving just Ginny, Nymph, Minerva and the Grangers in the living room. "Zev," she pointed to her mum, "this is my mum, Eugenia Granger, and this is my dad, Calvin Granger, but they go by Genie and Cal."

Zev held out his hand, eyes solemn. "Pleased to meet you."

Each parent shook his hand in turn and declared their own pleasure. Next, Hermione introduced Ginny and Nymph, and finally Minerva, whose air of propriety was evidently scary to Zev, as his hand shook quite a bit more when he held it out to her. When their hands broke apart, Ginny addressed Zev, "Was this a bad idea? We didn't mean to scare you, we just wanted you to know you had friends, and that you're going to love living here."

Zev looked at his first five new "friends" in turn. "I'm not scared." The statement was less than convincing.

Hermione ruffled his hair. "I'm starving, you?"

Zev nodded. Hermione took his hand. "C'mon, I bet Gin dished out the good stuff. Oo, mum, did you make that sweet potato thing with the-"

"Raisins and cinnamon, yes," Genie finished up for her daughter.

"Pick up the pace," Hermione ordered. "We don't want the gluttons to get all of it before we get some, do we?"

They jogged the rest of the way to the dining room, holding hands, Nymph urging Zev on as though he were a race horse.

*

When she felt it was safe, Hermione left Zev in the hands of Genie and Kingsley, who were getting along famously. Kingsley for his part, was better with children than any man without them had a right to be, and Hermione felt that Genie had done a decent job with her, and so they seemed a safe combination of people to entrust with Zev's momentary safety and happiness. This squared away, she went to the kitchen, where she had caught Snape sneaking off.

When she got there, she was heartened to see that Nymph had put him to work. Millicent was also there, stealing one of the numerous left over desserts and helping Ginny to reach cabinets that were too high for the smaller girl.

Hermione sent Ginny and Nymph off by asking them if they would, "be so kind as to turn Zev's bed?" before turning to Millicent, "Millie, can we have a moment?"

If Millicent thought this odd, she didn't say anything, merely naming her conditions, "I have to speak to you before I leave tonight, I mean it. I won't go until I've gotten a word."

Millicent was a friend only in the sense that the two of them knew all the same people and traveled in similar circles, so Hermione was perplexed as to what could be so important but she just nodded, "I'll find you as soon as I've a moment."

When she'd left, Hermione placed a silencing spell over the kitchen. "While I appreciate your stoic silence upon being introduced to Zev, it would perhaps have been best if you could have stayed away, knowing how you feel about him."

Snape set the recently Cleansed plate that he had been handling on the counter. "I assure you, Miss Granger, had I been given my choice of occupations this evening, I would be in surroundings far more familiar than these."

Hermione was relatively sure the words were meant to sting, but it was hard to tell, as they reached her through a filter of exhaustion. "Perhaps they should have been spent in bed. And far be it from me to point out, but you are forty-one years old, don’t you find that old enough to simply tell Minerva 'no'?"

Snape shot her with a doleful look. "I would not be surprised if I were still obeying Minerva at a thousand years of age. Are you telling me you've mastered the art of refusing her?"

Hermione picked the plate up from the counter. "Touchè."

He spoke to her back as she went to store the plate in its proper cabinet. "Are you planning on schooling him?"

She took the use of the male pronoun to heart. "As soon as I find a team of teachers willing to do so. I can handle Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures and even Transfigurations, although I'd prefer Minerva on the last, should she agree. Nymph's taking Defense, Terry's agreed to the spot for Herbology, and when I caught Firenze at the school he seemed willing to work something out for Divinations and Astronomy. Gin's good for Charms and Kingsley's got History. One of the Sisters at Mungo's is sniffing around the Developments department for a decent Potions teacher. That pretty much covers things."

"It's well known that the people in Mungo's Development area are there because they couldn’t procure a job with any of the private firms. You would really have some second-rate candy manufacturer teach him to whip up sleeping draughts and ferment healing potions?" Snape's tone was caught somewhere between disbelieving and haughty.

"Unless you're going to use that next breath of yours to volunteer for the job, I suggest you keep you opinions to yourself. While I may wish that the world was made up of people like the ones in that room, it is far more a product of your type, and they would have him ignorant at best, dead at worst. So yes, if I can get someone who will teach him to brew adequate potions and not destroy what’s left of his faith in humanity, then surely I will take a second-rate candy manufacturer over your skillful hands and lack of heart."

Incongruously, he spat, "You never could make anything easy."

Unsure of the significance of the comment, Hermione opened her hands in a gesture of puzzlement. "I think you might be somewhat in error as to your assumptions about the balance of power between us."

"You are the one with the power to dismiss me as a presence in your life."

Snape's voice was so sharp Hermione was sure she wouldn't feel the cut until much later, when the damage was far and well done. "Give me the choice to do anything else."

"Trust me to teach the child."

"Trust is not the issue."

Snape ran a hand down the front of his robe. "His name is Zev Peren-Granger. He is nine years old. He has been living in St. Mungo's for seven months after being abandoned there by his birth parents. I don’t know him, but I know he's human."

Hermione wasn't ready to back down. "Why the change of opinion?"

Snape rustled through his pockets for something. When he found it, he reached out and dropped it in front of Hermione. Hermione unrolled the small parchment bit.

Severus-

I am aware that my humanity or lack thereof means little to you, but it is the only thing I have left. Should you find a way to restore it to me during the nights of the full moon, a wizard's debt shall seem a trifling bond to the power you shall have over me.

Remus

Hermione looked up from the note. "A challenge, you said."

"I have been known to lie," Snape underscored the irony with a nod of his head.

"Besides, you hate Remus." Hermione ignored the niggling, just as you hate me, at the back of her brain.

"As with the werewolf, my humanity is all I have left to me. I should like there to be more. He understands that…empathy is not considered a trait of the sub-human."

Hermione rubbed a hand over the back of the neck. "One month, Snape, and Zev will report back to me every session. If it works, you have yourself a student, but only so far as it works and I will know the minute you choose to use him as a verbal dart board."

"Twenty years of habit-"

"The. Minute." Hermione's careful enunciation made the words choppy, threatening without true heat behind them.

Snape nodded infinitesimally. "Good evening then, Miss Granger."

"The same to you, I'm sure."

*

Minerva and Dean spearheaded a campaign to clean the house up and usher everyone out of it so that Hermione and Zev could get some sleep. Zev fell asleep in the midst of all the goodbyes, curling up in a corner of the sofa, a cushion hugged tightly to his chest. Dean offered to take him upstairs and set him in bed, but Hermione declined, "I'll get it, thanks."

She hugged him before he stepped into the fireplace. "I'll be seeing you? You're quite the stranger since I quit The Department."

Dean grinned. "It was easier when we were both workaholics in one place. Gin and I promised him Quidditch lessons while you weren't looking, I'll be around."

"I despise both of you."

"In a fond way," Dean added for her.

"Very fond," she agreed, watching him disappear in a puff of green flame.

Minerva loitered. "Would you object to my making a suggestion?"

"Your courtesy in pretending it matters is quite flattering."

"Use the position of Zev's Transfiguration teacher to lure Remus out of Mungo's. He's not at the level that Sirius and James were, but damned close. And he may be better at the tiny details, the why and wherefore of it all. He was quite like you in some ways when it came to his schooling."

Hermione brought a hand to the warmth pooling in her throat at Minerva's frank but caring assessment of her two ex-pupils. "The question is whether Zev will be enough incentive for him to move forward."

"Most likely not," Minerva stated crisply. She stepped into the fireplace. "But Zev won’t be the one making the request."

Minerva was gone then, leaving Hermione to file away her words until a time when her tired brain could truly pick them apart. Thinking she was alone in the house, Hermione bundled Zev in her arms, aware that he was too skinny for a boy his age. Mungo's food was enough to kill even the most voracious of appetites.

She took him upstairs to a room he hadn't yet seen, hoping it didn't scare him too much to wake up somewhere unfamiliar. She removed his shoes by hand and his clothes by spell, replacing them just as quickly with another spell and a pair of pajamas Luna had brought as a housewarming gift. Hermione shook her head at the creatures printed all over the pant and top combination. She'd never seen anything like them, and if she had to take her guess, she would have said that their origins probably lay firmly in a Quibbler article. Luna had taken the paper over when her father was killed in the last days of the war.

She kissed Zev's forehead and went downstairs, intent on a cup of tea and bit of pleasure reading before bed. She jumped at the sight of Millicent, sitting on the sofa, a book in hand. "Oh, Millie. I thought you'd left."

Millicent set down the book, which Hermione now saw was one of her own, a badly outdated text on the growth and development of werewolves. Not that there was anything written on the subject that wasn't badly outdated, or just pure propaganda to begin with. "I told you I wasn't leaving without speaking to you."

Hermione sighed and admitted, "I forgot. Snape drives me to distraction."

Millicent shook her head. "You're like first years, the two of you. He pulls your pigtails and you react by dumping your ink pot all over him."

Hermione flushed at the thought. "What did you need to talk about?"

"Wait, I have to go get her."

Hermione made a perplexed face but let Millicent leave. When she came back, she was carrying a small kneazle. Millicent raised kneazles professionally, helping wizarding families to procure licenses so as to own them. Millicent set the tiny bundle of ginger-gold fur down on the sofa. It immediately set to sniffing Hermione, who allowed the examination. After a few minutes, it settled itself on her lap, evidently pleased, and fell asleep.

Hermione stroked one of the kneazle's soft ears. Crookshanks had died nearly a year ago, old age finally catching up with him. She hadn't been able to stomach the thought of going out to look for another pet, but this one was puffing tiny hot breaths against the inside of her wrist and she was all too worried that Millicent would try and take it back once she'd had her say. "Does it have a limp? I thought I saw-"

"That's why I'm asking you to take her."

Hermione looked up from the kneazle. "I don't understand."

"Her leg was broken during birth, and while that's a common enough occurrence, it usually heals right up, practically as soon as it's set. This one didn't heal correctly, though, and nobody will take a kneazle with a defect. People think it makes them violent. It doesn't, I would never give you a violent pet with Zev in the house. I just thought…well, I mean, even without the Wolfsbane a werewolf won't hurt a kneazle, and she could be fun to play with while he's in wolf form. When he's not, the responsibility and companionship of a familiar never hurt anyone."

Hermione nodded, aware she was being given a sales pitch and a little amused by it. "How much are you asking for her?"

"Don't be silly, she's a gift." When Hermione started to argue, Millicent cut her off with a quick hand gesture. "Honestly, you're doing me a favor. I'd take her, but I've already taken six mixed-breeds and two who were injured in childhood beyond the ability to completely heal. Zach will kill me if I bring home another one and I don't want to see her left in the shop. Really, I'd appreciate you giving her a home."

Hermione ran a hand over the length of the kneazle's back. "You'll have to come and visit. Play with her sometimes." Then, switching subjects, "Where is Zach?"

Zacharias Smith and Millicent had been seeing each other ever since they had both spent three months at Mungo's recovering from war-inflicted injuries. They had moved in together almost a month earlier. "Same place as Oliver and Katie, they all send their regrets, by the way."

Oliver Wood had saved Zacharias's life during an attack on Hogwarts. Zacharias took his life-debt very seriously, to the point of never missing a Quidditch game if Oliver was playing. It was an extra bonus if his fiancée, Katie Bell, was on the field, since she was still on the reserves for Puddlemere. "Quite all right," Hermione reassured her. "Did he owl the final scores?"

"Puddlemere actually won. They're having quite the season."

"Oliver ought to be thrilled."

Millicent rolled her eyes. "You have no idea."

Hermione shifted, accidentally waking her new pet. The kneazle got up, turned around, and with a royal flick of her tail directly in Hermione's face, went off to explore. The whole sequence of events reminded Hermione of the tail she had once grown, compliments of a misplaced cat hair on Millicent's robes, and she started giggling. Before she knew it, the giggles were full out guffaws and she was bent over, clutching at her sides.

Millicent waited for the hilarity to die down before casually inquiring, "Anything you care to share?"

Hermione meant to gloss over the whole thing, but something in Millicent's eyes, perhaps the need for a bit of laughter herself, convinced her to start at the beginning. By the end, Millicent was wiping her own eyes, apologizing, "If you'd asked in private, I would have handed over a curl or two."

Hermione sniffed. "How was I to know that then? You were too busy pounding me into the mat during Dueling Club."

"Mm, sorry about that. I had some anger issues."

They both laughed some more at that.

When things had quieted, Hermione asked, "You knew, even then? That you were going to-"

"Betray Slytherin?"

"I was going to say reject the Mark. Just because Tom Riddle was in Slytherin House doesn't ally his cause to it. If it did, Snape would hardly have been at my party this evening, pigtail pulling or no."

Millicent leaned further into the couch. "I think I knew the first year I was at Hogwarts. When Pansy felt like she could treat me like dirt because I was poor and Draco because my great-great grandfather on my mother's side was of questionable descent. I just wasn't ready until I found out about Adrian, and Graham agreed to go to Dumbledore with me. I wasn't very brave. I still don't feel… I wish they'd survived, y'know? It's a bit lonely with only Snape getting it. He's not the most talkative man to be found. Don’t get me wrong, Zach's a gem, but-"

"I…yes. I'm sorry." Adrian Pucey had been a spy for the Order from the beginning. He had gotten in over his head taking the Mark and had come to Dumbledore as a last resort, depending on Dumbledore's weakness for giving second chances. He hadn't actively recruited either Millicent or Graham Pritchard, but Millicent's family was close to Adrian's, and she had found his secret out through some careful snooping. Intent on following his lead for reasons of her own, she had convinced Graham, her closest friend of the time, to go in with her and the three of them, plus Snape, had been the Order's most constant and reliable source of information on Voldemort throughout the entirety of the conflict.

Millicent shut her eyes for a moment before opening them again and standing. "It's late, I should leave you to get some sleep. You'll owl when the two of you think up a name?"

Hermione pushed herself to her feet. "The minute. You'll drag Zach and yourself over here for dinner sometime soon?"

"Tell us when," Millicent leaned over, pecking Hermione on the cheek. "Our schedule is far less hectic than yours." She stepped into the fireplace, and flooed out.

Hermione gave up on the idea of a book, but headed to the kitchen for some tea. She found the small kneazle curled up in the sink, sleeping. She murmured to herself, "This is home, Granger." She would get used to the fact that Harry and Ron weren't here. She would.

*

"You would have a fully-grown, unmedicated werewolf wandering your house come the full moon is what you're telling me?"

"Don’t be foolish," Hermione chided Remus, "we plan on spending the full outside. Nymph and I warded the grounds so that should either of you try to step a foot past the boundaries, you'll spend the rest of the night on your back, seeing stars. Literal and figurative."

Remus crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not going to leave me alone about this until I say yes or, conversely, die, are you?"

"Oh, I could probably be persuaded to let up as soon as Zev is fully grown and an expert in Transfigurations."

"That soon?"

Hermione smiled with no trace of irony.

"What if someone should wander on to the property during the full?"

Hermione dropped the smile. "Then they're just asking to be eaten, wouldn’t you say?"

"You know what the scariest thing about you is?"

"How I've managed to live this long without a heart?"

Remus didn't miss a beat. "The way you look so harmless."

"Books and covers," Hermione replied lightly.

"The wards are two way, aren't they?"

Hermione confirmed, "And then some. If someone gets past them, they really are looking into food service as a career choice."

Remus snickered. "The last person I lived with by choice was Sirius."

Hermione did her best not to act taken aback. "I know." She did.

"You. You were right. About him hating this." Remus waved his hand vaguely to indicate the hospital room. "But it still feels like betrayal."

Hermione breathed out the knot at the base of her chest. "I find that with most forward motion. Of any type."

"But you do it."

Hermione let the silence fill her mind until she found something to say. "If I'm the only one to live, then I suppose I owe it to them to actually do that. I think, right now, I think they would be infuriated with me. I'm trying to change that."

"I was a good teacher," Remus informed her. "Think I still am?"

Hermione felt a trill of giddiness that closely resembled relief. "I've heard it's like riding a broom."

*

Hermione was back from the ward, where she had disappeared to in order to check in on everyone, by the time Remus woke up. She had stayed with Remus and Zev during the night, mostly being ignored as the two werewolves traipsed the length of the property together. Now sure that the two of them could be left alone, she had plans to alternate spending the full with them and with the ward inhabitants.

When she got back from the ward, Zev was in the kitchen with Ginny, who was serving up eggs and checking how alert he was with a few well-placed Charms questions. Hermione sauntered in, and kissed the top of Zev's head, "Feeling all right?"

"Hungry." Zev shoveled a veritable mountain of fried egg into his mouth.

He looked so worn out that all Hermione had the heart to say was, "Careful not to choke." She gestured upstairs to where Remus was still sleeping and Ginny responded with a shooing gesture of her own.

Hermione grabbed a glass of water and the piece of toast that Ginny had just smothered with marmalade before making her way upstairs and into the guest quarters that they had converted into Remus's room. She had been sitting with him for nearly an hour when he stirred, moaning softly. Hermione performed a couple of basic Healing Charms, meant to reduce strain upon muscles and lessen joint agitation. Nora had taught them to her, as they evidently helped with some of the post-transformation pain.

He rolled onto his side, facing her. "Thanks."

"Water?"

"Please," he said, but made no move to get up.

She stood, working him gently into a position wherein she could hold his head and he could swallow. When he'd gotten enough, he turned his head to the side and repeated, "Thanks."

Hermione set the glass on the nightstand. "Is it just that you don't take the Wolfsbane? Is that what makes it worse?"

One of the many helpful aspects of the Wolfsbane was that it carried a bit of a muscle-relaxant -- for lack of a better term -- that helped keep the werewolf's body limber while changing. It cut a bit of the pain that was an after-effect of the transformation (though not the actual agony of the change itself).

"I don't think so," Remus shook his head. "It wasn't like that before I started taking the Wolfsbane. I think it's a side effect of the silver. We just aren't meant to be exposed to it, in any form."

Hermione sat back down. Remus's transformation had been terrifying to watch. Zev, whose transformation had been considerably quicker, had hidden behind a tree as Remus had continued changing, his screams mutating into howls. The transformation back hadn't been much better. "Are you hungry?"

Remus turned a pale shade of green.

"I'll take that as a no."

"I'll eat later," he promised.

"I'm going to- There has to be something, a simple pain potion, perhaps, that can help. Snape would know."

The green tint of Remus's skin grew violent. "Hermione, no."

"I can't-"

"I've already asked for his help once regarding this situation."

Hermione felt forced to point out, "And he is giving it."

"Precisely, I have no interest in pressing my luck."

"Remus." Hermione brought her fingers to the bone beneath her eyes and pressed. "Let me ask. Me. He won't have to know you know anything of it."

"I've hid behind others for too long when it comes to him."

Hermione drew her fingers away from her eyes. "He's lonely, Remus. He as good as said it to me when I last spoke with him."

"One can be lonely and still not yearn for the company of someone they hate."

With an intuition Hermione hadn't imagined herself capable of until that moment, she observed, "Snape hated Voldemort. Maybe, a very long time ago, he hated Harry's dad. There's only so much hatred one person can sustain."

"I sense his capacity is higher than others."

Hermione made a fist, clenching it against the pit of her stomach. "I watched, Remus, watched as the two boys I loved most in this world died a death that I sent them to. And you held Harry back even as you wanted to run to the man you loved most in this world, falling to his death. Snape looked on and forced himself to laugh as the man he considered a father was killed in front of him. Don't you see?"

Remus insisted, "The man is a bitter, bilious prick, Min."

"He is all of those things, yes. And most times, I can't be in a room with him for more than three seconds without wanting to lay some type of muting hex on him. But he's also…a lot like me, I guess."

"You're too forgiving."

"Someone has to carry on the tradition. Dumbledore is dead and you're being eaten up by more than residual magicked silver."

Remus bared his teeth for an instant. His only comment, however, was a subdued, "When Severus comes, I'll speak to him. About a pain tonic."

Hermione didn't gloat. "You should sleep some more." She stood.

"Hermione."

"Remus."

"Severus's not the only one- It would be nice, if you could stay."

Having been up all night to watch over Zev and Remus and not grabbing a post-transformation nap in order to jaunt over to Mungo's and check on the werewolves she hadn't stayed with, Hermione knew when it was time to be selfish, "I'm dead on my feet, Remus. I need to get some sleep. My room is two doors down, and Zev and Ginny are downstairs in the kitchen."

Remus moved to one side of the queen-sized bed that Nymph and Ginny had decided was most appropriate for a guest room. "There's enough room."

Barring the times when Ginny or Nymph or both had crawled into bed with her, either to ward off a nightmare or just for the creature comforts of having someone else there, the last time Hermione had shared a bed, it had been with Ron and Harry. "I'm not sure-"

"Please."

It was the tone of the word that made up Hermione's mind, the echo of a lifetime in which his desires had ultimately been unimportant. She stepped out of her shoes, shrugged her robe off, and crawled into the bed. Remus's eyes were still on her, mildly disbelieving, when she closed her own.

*

An afternoon interview with one of the members of the Wizengamot regarding werewolf legislation ended earlier than Hermione had expected. She considered going back to the hospital, but Ruel had been in a particularly foul mood that day and she had been having a time not doing anything she would regret, so she let herself off the hook and headed home.

She Apparated in, and looked at the clock in the front hall. It indicated that Zev would still be in lessons, so Hermione went up to her room and changed out of her work clothes before setting off to find Remus. Instead of her prey, she found a note: "At Gin's. Brave girl said she'd teach me to do a quiche. I'll bring it back for dinner, R."

Hermione had put her foot down on the issue of Remus paying rent for several reasons, not the least of them being that he was broke, and she reasonably felt that a generous amount of the money in her vaults should have been left to him. Though she had made it clear that he was trading in for his keep by way of Zev's lessons, Remus had made it equally clear that an hour's worth of grade-school Transfigurations five days a week wasn't quite equivalent to the price tag on a stay in Chez Granger. In a moment of frustration at the deadlock they had reached, Hermione spouted, "So make sure we don't starve!"

Remus had barely allowed Ginny a moment to herself since.

Giving up on company for the moment, she started toward the room she'd converted into an office for herself, intent on getting a bit further in drafting the actual Werewolf Equal Rights Enactment, WERE for short. Charlie's approval of the acronym had been so painfully Ron-like, "Catchy, gonna make shirts? People like shirts," that Hermione had nearly changed it. But Ron had always been so adamantly against SPEW that it felt only right he should be able to cheer her choice this time around from wherever he was.

She was nearly inside the study when she heard Zev's voice. Hermione wasn't sure what kind of student Zev had been before the bite, but since being shut away from anything and everything normal, the return of lessons was something of an anchor, and he was working overtime to please every single Professor willing to give their time to helping him learn.

"-thought you said that was a poison. And the text book, wait…yeah, right here, see: can kill within seconds if admin- admini-"

"Administered," Snape pronounced the word for him.

"Administered in the correct dose."

Every night Hermione carefully found a way to inquire after Snape's behavior, and every night, Zev reported that the text book had big words that he couldn't always understand and that he found Snape, "a bit bossy," dispensing his nine-year old wisdom that Snape, "should smile, or something," but he had yet to give any indication that Snape had so much as snapped in his direction. Hermione crept closer to the door, but not so close as to give herself away. She wouldn't put it past Snape to ward the perimeters of a room he was in even temporarily.

"Bananas, if eaten too regularly, can cause a build up of minerals that the body needs in small doses. In large doses, however, the minerals become toxic to the system and will eventually force it to shut down, killing the person. As such, Potions as a discipline is largely about the amount of each ingredient combined to make the final tonic, or draught, or even poison." Snape's voice was measured and even. Hermione only recognized it from those times when he had sat in on a consultation between her and Dumbledore. It didn’t have the same edge of respect and comfort, but the calm hadn't changed a bit.

"Then the hemlock can be used for good things too? Like medicines?"

"Precisely. Ingredients are neither good nor bad to begin with, it is the mixing and brewing of them with other ingredients that determines their eventual use."

"That's kind of…neat."

Hermione had to put a hand over her mouth not to giggle at the surprise in Zev's voice.

"Yes, well. Potions can be kind of neat, Mr. Granger."

Hermione wasn't sure what shocked her more, the fact that Zev was obviously insisting people use his adopted surname, or the small note of humored exasperation in Snape's response.

"Since you are so interested in positive uses for inherently poisonous substances, your homework shall be to read the chapter on nightshade."

Aware that an assignment meant they were finishing up and not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, Hermione walked to the door of the house's small library (formerly Snape's lab), where Zev was taking all of his lessons, and knocked.

"Enter." Snape's command collided with Zev's excited, "Minny?"

Hermione opened the door and stood just slightly inside it. "Hey, I got back early. Thought I'd say hi."

With a quick look at Snape, who pretended not to see, Zev was up and across the room, knocking the wind out of Hermione as he wrapped himself around her in a welcome-home hug. Snape, for his part, was gathering some props he had brought to the lesson, carefully settling bottles and illustrations back in a black case. Over the top of Zev's head, Hermione offered, "You could stay for dinner. If you haven't anything better to do."

"I wasn't aware you had culinary abilities."

It would have been infuriating if it hadn't been so on the mark. If he hadn't been looking anywhere but into her eyes. "No, I don't. Remus is learning to cook. Ginny won't let him bring anything inedible back to us."

"Ah."

Unable to help herself, Hermione pushed. "We're not exactly at the level of luxury that can be afforded when one is willing to enslave an entire species in the pursuit of laziness, but we get by."

"I doubt Lupin would echo your welcoming sentiment," Snape molded the words delicately and Hermione knew he would be spitting were she not still holding Zev in her arms.

The consideration on his part convinced her to extend the olive branch. "He has things he needs to discuss with you anyway. It'll be fine."

After a long moment, Snape gave in. "If you're sure." He looked anything but.

Hermione carded a hand through Zev's hair and lied. "Positive."

*

Dinner could have been worse, Hermione decided. If Voldemort had thought to drop by for a surprise visit.

The quiche turned out heavier than it was supposed to be, and Snape spent most of the meal poking at it as though to make sure it wouldn't suddenly grow defensive tentacles. Which forced Hermione into the position of taking seconds and extolling the quiche's fine qualities.

Thankfully, Zev had developed the appetite of a small elephant (or, similarly, a growing boy) once he remembered that food was supposed to taste good. He polished the quiche off on his third helping. He made quick work of helping to clear the table and then sped off, giving excuses about, "lots of schoolwork, Nymph's evil!"

Hermione let him go without hassle. She understood the desire to flee. "Don’t forget to feed Gwen!"

Zev's voice came through the door, "Her majesty reminded me this afternoon!" Gwen, short for Guinevere, was the name Zev had given Millicent's lame kneazle; his reasoning being, "She act's like she's in charge of us all. Queen of the House."

Once Zev was clear of the room, Remus offered, "Coffee?"

Hermione sat back down at the table. "The way the Irish prefer it, please."

"Excellent idea." Remus reached up into the cabinet where they hid the whiskey, a housewarming present from Dean. "Severus?"

Snape, who had stayed seated the entire time, looked up at Remus. "I will join you in a cup."

Remus made the coffee, dashing a jot of whiskey into each cup and stirring. He brought the others theirs and sat down with his, taking several slow sips before explaining, "Hermione suggested it might be beneficial for you to know that the transformations are more painful. I mean, more painful than before…before the Wolfsbane."

Snape blinked. "Transfigured or no, silver is meant to cause damage to your- to werewolves. Those antibodies are basically trace amounts of silver running about in your veins. I would imagine everything is a bit more of an ordeal these days."

Remus fixed Hermione with a look that very plainly screamed, "Told you so." Hermione sighed. "Is there anything that can be done to lessen the pain? It's scaring the bloody hell out of Zev."

"How brilliant of you to be concerned about me," Remus sniped.

"You can hardly blame her, can you?"

Hermione knew Snape regretted the words the second they were out. She could read it in his face more clearly than any text she had ever chanced to open. His shield, comprised of three-fourths arrogance and one-fourth blank ambivalence, was up again the second Remus snarled, "Get the fuck out."

"He didn't mean-"

Remus turned to her, incredulous, and she corrected herself. "Well, he did. But he's sorry. Aren't you?"

Snape responded to the pointed, authoritative tone; Hermione's best Minerva impression. "Old habits, Lupin."

"I have learned to live with being hated out there," Remus glanced out the numerous kitchen windows, "but I will not stand for it inside these walls. Not even from you, reason or no reason."

Snape gave a tight nod. "I have a colleague in New Mexico. His wife is a werewolf. He has been working on ways to neutralize the effects of silver on a werewolf's system. We…our correspondence has picked up in the last few months. I will see what he has to say on the issue of your transformations."

Remus drank the last of his coffee. "I would appreciate that."

Snape stood and offered a stiff, "Thank you for dinner."

Only the last bit of Snape's robe was visible when Remus stopped him. "Severus."

Snape turned ever so slightly to acknowledge the summons.

"If you can remember what I've said this evening, you're welcome at our table any time."

Slowly, without saying a word, Snape turned back and left through the fireplace. Hermione wrapped her hand around Remus's and squeezed for all she was worth.

*
Newborn
*

"As wonderful as it's been watching you bugger this all to hell, I've decided to take pity and tell you that you're going about this the wrong way." Ruel was standing over Hermione, who was taking advantage of the fact that every single last werewolf in the ward was ignoring her and getting some work done on the drafting of WERE.

"I'm doing something wrong in your highly esteemed opinion? How shocking. Wait a second, I'll tell you when the world starts spinning again." Hermione didn't look up from the sentence she was working to revise.

"I was bitten when I was thirty-two." Ruel took a seat across the common room table from Hermione.

Hermione set the pen down. "Yes, a werewolf somehow got free in the town of Hollow's Bend, where you were living. You and some friends were coming home from the pub. I've read the files, Ruel."

"Then you know I was working for the sub-section of the MLE dealing with changes in the law at the time of my infection."

Hermione looked up. "They don't consider who you-"

"They think who we were as 'humans' is different than who we are now."

"Tell me how to do this correctly."

Ruel squinted. "That's it?"

"You were expecting something more?"

"I've made no secret of the fact that I don’t like you. I would expect a bit of suspicion on your part, if nothing else."

Hermione brought a hand up to grip the back of her neck. "And what good would it do you to screw this up for me? You'd still be stuck here, and I would still be free to roam about out there, 'sticking my nose in places were it's most likely to be bitten off.'"

Ruel grimaced at having his words regurgitated back at him. "Perhaps I like it in here. They feed me, keep me warm-"

"Treat you like you might pee on the carpets at any moment and deny you the simple powers granted to every eleven year old."

Ruel eyed the wand at Hermione's waist with an expression of such guarded wistfulness that Hermione was forced to close her eyes. When she opened them again, he said, "The anger is easier to handle than anything else."

Hermione knew, remembered yelling at Ginny and Nymph about everything, over the sheer fact of their survival, their togetherness, in the months after the final battle. She plucked her wand from its resting place and handed it to him.

"What are you doing?"

"Take it," she urged. "Repaint the ward, something, just, remember what it feels like not to be angry."

"They'll know." No fear, just sickened acceptance.

"They'll think it's me. Trust me, they're terribly lazy about these things."

His hand shook as he snatched the wand from her. Quietly, as though afraid someone might hear, he cast, "Wingardium Leviosa."

Hermione felt herself rise from the chair and she flapped her arms a bit in a parody of flight, determined to show no fear. He set her down soon enough and moved on, casting small life-giving charms on the plants Redda always requested and could never keep alive without the aid of sun, mending the tear in the sofa that Steven had accidentally made with his claws last transformation, clearing the air of the smell of institutional food. It was no more than fifteen minutes later when Ruel returned to his seat, and handed her back the wand.

"You can keep it until I leave."

"No. It would…I would just-"

Be unable to give it up again if I did that, Hermione supplied mentally. "All right." She took the wand. "Are you going to tell me what I'm doing incorrectly?"

"Is that why you let me have the wand?"

"You were the one who offered your services, pre-wand," Hermione reminded him.

"Yeah, but-"

"I gave you the wand because you're still fucking human. You all are."

"Kieran says Lupin can't take the Wolfsbane."

Hermione went cold. "That knowledge is not for public consumption."

Ruel blanched. "No."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Ruel cut her off. "It's just, I know what we act like, what we are, without the Wolfsbane."

"There were three of you that night, the night you were bitten. You were the only survivor."

"How can you stay with him? Even as a Porlock? Aren't you frightened?"

Without thinking, Hermione said, "I've been more frightened."

"Of what?"

Hermione swallowed hard at the vision of mad-red eyes and Harry and Ron's dead bodies. "Being alone."

"It still doesn't make sense. Choosing to work with us. We're not welcoming creatures. Not even to our own kind."

"It's easier to be angry," Hermione reminded him.

"You're pretty pissed off, eh?"

"Something like that."

"You make a good show of calm."

Hermione gestured to the papers in front of her. "I'm channeling."

Ruel explained, "They hide their fear of us in their anger. You have to divert that anger, make it work for us."

"Make you human."

Ruel took a deep breath. "We are human."

"Yeah," one side of Hermione's mouth quirked in an assessing smile. "You are."

*

Hermione lay down on the floor next to Zev, who was sprawled on his stomach, reading his history text. She watched a picture of the four founders discussing the run of Hogwarts. Helga turned from the meeting to wave at them. Zev waved back. "Professor Snape is in the kitchen."

"Where's Remus?"

"In the kitchen."

Hermione almost asked if he'd checked for signs of life in the last five minutes, then remembered who she was talking to and thought better of it. "How were your classes?"

Zev laid his head down on the floor. "Both Ginny and Professor Snape think my Latin is bad. Professor Snape called it…ab…abby-"

"Abysmal?"

"Yeah, that."

Hermione frowned. "What did Ginny say?"

"That basics are very important to casting the correct spell at the correct time and that it wouldn't do to have me mispronouncing things." Zev hid his face in the carpet.

"Hey." Hermione rolled over to where she was on top of him.

"Minny!" His shout of indignation was more a squeak than anything else.

She rolled off. "We'll work on your Latin this weekend. We'll make it a game, so you can remember."

"Don't you have to work?"

"I'm allowed a day off now and again. Saturday is all yours, all right?"

He turned back to the text, but she could see his grin. "Yeah, thanks."

She got to her feet, determined that there had been silence from the kitchen far too long for her own comfort. "Sure."

There was obviously a silencing ward in place, as when she stepped through the kitchen door, Remus was growling, "If I needed the assistance of a prig, I would have said, 'Why, Severus, come over here and help me.'"

"And what were you attempting to assist with, if I may inquire?" Hermione dropped into a chair and casually crossed her legs.

Both men spun around from the counter they were facing. Remus blushed. Snape snarled. Hermione waited.

Snape finally offered, "I was merely trying to make sure that dinner would be an edible meal rather than a new potion ingredient."

Remus opined, "I was doing fine on my own. Ginny taught me this, step by step."

"Obviously she overestimated your ability. An easy mistake; most grown men are aware of the ways in which a gas stove works."

"Perhaps grown men who spend their days copulating with cauldrons over said stoves as to provide warmth they cannot dredge up themselves."

"Better a lonely life than a wasted one, Lupin."

"I'll tell you what," Hermione stood fluidly, "I'm gonna take Zev to dinner over at Gin and Nymph's place. You two floo me when you're done picking each other apart in a futile exercise of asserting your non-existent self-worth. Sound good?"

She was nearly past the sound barrier when Remus bit out, "Min. I'll…I'll behave."

She waited without turning back for Snape's trademark sigh. "Very well, Miss Granger. I shall attempt to curb my tongue."

Without saying another word on the subject, Hermione walked to the stove. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

Remus muttered, "Nothing. Severus fixed it."

Hermione rounded on Snape. "You cook?"

"Yes." Snape didn't elaborate, and something in his tone kept Hermione from prying for details.

"I know you can be patient, all indications aside. I've heard you with Zev."

Snape recognized it for the reprimand that it was. "It takes energy."

Courage, rather, if Hermione's suspicion was correct and Snape used his tongue like Hogwarts used its battlements.

Remus leaned back against the counter. "Spare some for us."

Snape looked down in surprise as Gwen tried to climb his robes. He stood stock still until Remus took pity on him, sweeping the kneazle into his arms for a good cuddle. Snape accepted the gesture with a nod of his head and set to preparing the table for dinner.

*

The first time Hermione had ever caught Ginny and Nymph in some stage of flagrante delicto had been slightly before the twins' deaths. Hermione had been paroling the seventh floor when she heard something. Slipping into a room that she would only later realize she was familiar with, Hermione spied Ginny sprawled naked on a bed. Nymph was draped over her, equally naked, her mouth working the peak of Ginny's right nipple. Hermione had backed out of the room to the sound of Ginny mewling, her neck arched so that only the slightest of sounds could work their way past swollen lips.

It hadn't been until she was back in the safety of her own bed that Hermione had remembered something: the Room of Requirement only showed itself to those who really needed it.

This understanding and the fact that the picture of Nymph's back, elegant in its slenderness and draped in electric blue curls, refused to leave Hermione's mind, drove her to sneak down into the boy's dormitory so often and with such sexual single-mindedness that Ron was finally given to demand, "What, are you in heat, or something?"

The second time she had "caught" them was right before they made their relationship public, and completely different, although still drenched in memories of Ginny's cries. They had been fully dressed at that time, hidden in the dark of the closet in Molly and Arthur's bedroom. Hermione had come up to use the toilet in their bathroom, to cry out of the sight of others, particularly the last two Weasley children.

She had heard Ginny's sobs emanating from the direction of the closet and was debating whether to go to her, offer her someone to cry with, when she heard Nymph's answering, "That's right, just like that. I'm here."

Hermione had tiptoed the rest of the way to the bathroom and warded it for silence, screaming until her throat needed repairing by way of a wand.

She had drawn away from them after the funeral, when Ginny spent all her time not at Hogwarts, but in the small apartment that Nymph had always referred to as her bachelorette pad. There had been a numb jealousy at seeing how Nymph was the only person who could make Ginny smile, how Ginny sometimes whispered things to Nymph that made her roots go darker.

Ginny and Charlie had split the financial leavings of their parents, Bill, Percy and the twins. Charlie had thrown most of his half into helping with rebuilding efforts, particularly putting together The Weasley Foundation, which helped Hogwarts students of financially strapped families afford books and other necessities. Ginny had given some of hers to help him get the Foundation off the ground and had put another large chunk into helping Nymph buy a house on the rather questionable salary of an Auror.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure if the two of them moving into the house together had been the impetus for project Hermione-Has-Moped-Long-Enough, but the two events always coincided in her mind. She had learned rather quickly that it was harder than it looked to ignore a determined Nymphadora Tonks. Particularly when paired with a hell-bent-upon-her-way Virginia Weasley.

Nymph would commute the two floors from the MLE to The Department at the end of the work day and hang out until Hermione agreed to come home with her. Ginny would send owls to Hermione's apartment asking inane, coffee-conversation type questions until Hermione came over just to stop the torrent of creatures flying through her flat. Nymph would buy the same book for herself and Hermione and then guilt Hermione into reading it so that she would have someone with whom to discuss it.

Eventually, Ginny would bite out, "I'm sorry I'm not Ron and Nymph's not Harry, but we're doing our best and you could at least try and appreciate it."

So Hermione had tried. And had come to find that, actually, sometimes the two women made it rather easy.

She wasn't surprised, flooing into their place during her lunch hour one day, to find Ginny hoisting Nymph onto the back of the couch, Nymph's legs wrapping around Ginny's already bare torso. She had stumbled upon them halfway to intercourse more often than not since they had included her in their personal wards. She didn't watch and then flee as with that first time, instead just snorting, "It's the middle of the afternoon, for Merlin's sake, put your top back on, Virginia."

Nymph craned her neck so that she was facing Hermione, "Ah, if it isn't the modesty squad."

Hermione was relatively sure she had done things with Ron and Harry that would have Nymph scrubbing her eyeballs before figuring out how to adapt it to work with another woman, but all she said was, "Seriously, Gin, I need to talk, and your breasts are distracting me."

"I only wish." Ginny drew back from Nymph and disappeared behind the couch for a few seconds before re-emerging, top in place. She pushed Nymph over so that she fell backwards onto the couch. She stayed there, her head dangling upside down from Hermione's perspective. Ginny came around and sat next to her. "Talk."

Hermione sat down in the armchair next to the couch. "I need someone who thinks like a wizard."

"Why don't you work in that capacity?" Nymph righted herself so that she could snuggle up against Ginny.

"Too much Muggle-embedded consciousness."

"All right." Ginny wrapped an arm around Nymph's waist. "What's your dilemma?"

"Wizards don't see werewolves as human."

Nymph wrinkled her nose. "Not really, no."

"So the werewolves don’t see themselves as human. Social conditioning. Pretty normal. Ruel says I need to make the public see the werewolves as human, and in the long run, of course, he's right."

"But?" Ginny prompted.

"But how can I make the public see them as humans when they don’t see it themselves? No, the first step is to rectify their way of thinking of themselves."

Nymph leaned forward, nearly cutting off her air supply. "What's going on in that brilliant little brain of yours?"

"Ruel was right, I am going about WERE in the wrong way, just not in the sense that he was thinking. I have money, right? Lots and lots of money and nothing particularly worthwhile to do with it. And a house in the middle of nowhere. A house that I can build onto as much as I want. I figure, the wizarding world wants the werewolves tracked or institutionalized, so we can give them that. I redraft WERE to require that the alternative to branding is not Mungo's, it's a school. All children bit before the age of minority must, by law, be dropped at the school. Anything else will be considered murder or neglect and prosecuted as such. The adults have their choice, but the school offers a job, either teaching or in some other capacity, room and board. The children learn to socialize, the adults relearn responsibility to their community…it becomes a working, human collective. Then, if it works, then we see about truly getting things changed."

"Do you want us to tell you the risks, or support you blindly?" Ginny asked.

"I actually think I've covered all the risks, I've been cooking this up for a bit, but throw what you can at me."

Nymph offered, "You'd be letting what was last estimated at seventy-eight werewolves, plus any new infectees, into your house."

"I'm good on the numbers, this is what I do day in and day out. I have to talk with Snape about his contract with Mungo's and getting it transferred, of course. I also want to see what he can offer by way of advice as far as if there are problems with the Wolfsbane, outside of Remus. I'm going to talk to Nora about medical specialists in the area. Mungo's doesn't support any, but I've heard rumors of ones in parts of Asia. We'll see, I have to believe anyone specializing would jump at the chance to be involved in such a large scale community."

"Possibly," Nymph granted. "But there is still the issue of Remus, there can be absolutely no humans around unless you plan on chaining him for the full, which is hardly fair. And have you even spoken to him about this?"

Hermione crossed and uncrossed her legs. "Not…exactly."

"Code for not-even-remotely," Ginny read. "Bloody hell, Min. I talk to that man more than you do."

"Well, you have been giving him regular lessons." Hermione willed herself not to blush.

"Forget all your other problems, you can't go a step further with this without speaking to him." Nymph looked angry.

"I didn't mean-"

"What you did with Harry may or may not have been the right decision. I didn't know him as well as you, so I'll go on believing that what you did was for the best. I can even concede that it may have been the only decision in the case of- In the case of my brother." Ginny took a deep breath.

Hermione tried to draw herself up past the two inches she could feel of herself. "I'm so sorry-"

"We're alive," Nymph cut her off. "And we all know that if you're going to be sorry, you have to be sorry for that too."

"As I was saying," Ginny sounded slightly exasperated, "you made the decision you felt you had to make then. But Remus isn't Harry, and we aren't fighting for the fate of our world, and you can't go about your life leaving other people in the dark."

Hermione tugged at a strand of hair. "I really was planning on telling him. I've just been so caught up in the formulation of the idea, and I…I don't want him to leave if he doesn't like the idea. I'm…afraid."

"C'mere." Nymph curled her fingers in a beckoning gesture. Hermione obeyed, settling herself in the middle of the two women as they shifted to accommodate her.

Ginny rested her chin on Hermione's shoulder. "We're still gonna be here. Even if he isn't."

It was comforting, but not as comforting as Hermione would have hoped. Nymph pecked her cheek, "Something's gotta work out for you, luv. Maybe this is it."

*

"They would sooner raise Voldemort from the dead than they would give us wands." Remus had turned away from Hermione at some point in her explanation.

Hermione hugged herself. "Ever read any Muggle history about the civil rights movement in America?"

"The Colonies, you mean?"

"You're joking." Hermione figured she had the right to hope.

"My dad grew up in the second stodgiest Muggle family in the Western Hemisphere, right after the Dursleys. What I know of Muggle history isn't exactly enlightened. Mum was more with the times, but her family had been wizards for several decades, so not much help in the way of Muggle views."

Hermione sat down on the couch, folding her legs beneath her. "For a considerable period of time, blacks and whites were kept separate from each other. Blacks weren't allowed to use the same bars, pools, public toilets, public anything that whites used. The idea was that everything was supposed to be 'separate but equal'."

Remus snorted. "I can imagine."

"Exactly. But I think that reasoning might work on the Ministry, nonetheless."

"You're asking that I allow this place to be turned into just another prison."

"No." Hermione shook her head. "It already is a prison."

Remus turned to meet her eyes.

"Tell me differently, Remus. Tell me you can leave anytime you want and have somewhere to go. Tell me there aren't wards to keep your wolf form in and others out. The bars may be decorated, but they're still bars."

Remus narrowed his eyes, not saying a word.

"I'm asking you to share your prison. Transform it."

"What do you get out of this? You're free. You're…practically the exact opposite of everything we are."

"On a smaller scale? I'm probably going to take Care of Magical Creatures for myself, and that should be grand fun. On a larger? I dunno. The sleep of the just?"

"I don't want-" Remus cut himself off.

Hermione stood up, walking to him. "You don't want what?" She didn't give him time to answer, noticing, "Merlin, you're shaking."

Remus flinched away from the hand she tried laying on his shoulder. "I don't want to share you and Zev."

Hermione frowned. "You don't-"

"I've shared everything that's mattered in my life. Sirius with James, Sirius with Harry, Harry with the entire fucking world, Dumbledore with every other student Hogwarts has ever seen…It was okay, then, to be the one who mattered less, because I was taught that I deserved it, that I was less than human. But you can't look at me, and tell me I'm every bit as human as you are, and give me to two people who believe it and then make me less again. You just can't."

The words were delivered in a tone as sharp as the fingernails he had driven into Hermione's wrists at some point during the tirade, and she kept her eyes wide in an effort not to let tears fall. "If anything, I would be sharing you."

"Don't," Remus warned.

Hermione ignored him. "I know something about sharing, too. I know about being the last one in on all the secrets, I know about having to give someone up for others. I know that right now, you and Zev are mine. You depend on me, he maybe even loves me. The minute I let other people through that door there will be others to claim your time and your need and your affection. But you both deserve that chance. As much as I hate it."

Remus let go of her wrists, swearing at the small cracks of broken skin. He cradled one wrist in his hand. "Min."

"It's fine, I've got some of that healing ointment Snape left for The Walking Disaster." As Zev got more comfortable in the house, he also got more accident prone. Snape had brought the bottle over without being asked after noticing all the minor cuts and scrapes that adorned Zev's body. Hermione had smiled in heartfelt gratitude at Snape and he'd been avoiding her ever since.

"If you want your school, I won't be the one to stop you."

Hermione was the one to shake as she went up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to Remus' for a second before drawing back. "We could…make a pact."

"Like first years?" Remus's voice was hoarse.

Hermione showed him the blood on her wrist. "Exactly like first years."

"What's the pact?"

"That we won't share each other."

"No sharing." Remus caught her up in a quick kiss, a swipe of his tongue ending the contact. "Better than blood, I think."

Hermione licked her lips. "Not very first year-ish."

*

Hermione kidnapped Charlie over teatime and dragged him to Minerva's office, which boasted two benefits the Ministry did not. The first was nearly guaranteed privacy. The second was Minerva.

Who looked up and commented, "I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it."

Hermione collapsed into a chair, hitting her tailbone. "Ow. It's been a mess this morning. Food poisoning, if you can believe it. Neither Verona nor Gerard can keep a thing down. I've been yelling at anyone who will listen, which is nobody, of course, because it doesn't matter if they get sick. It doesn't matter if they die." Hermione growled. "This has to work, I have to get them out of there."

Minerva rustled through the papers on her desk. "I've read through the basic draft you sent me. I believe you're on to something, but there's still the overwhelming barrier in regards to the fact that you will be training these children to possess magical wiles, something the Ministry fears above all else."

Charlie chimed in, "Even with Kingsley in charge, you know his main concern is international cooperation in case of future Dark uprisings and he can only back one unpopular bit of legislation at a time. If you were willing to wait-"

"I can't," Hermione interrupted.

"I know, but half of politics is timing." Charlie rubbed at his temple. "I'll back you, of course, but I don't know how much help that's going to be, considering that people still think I'm nutters over the whole Mermaid Property fiasco."

Charlie's first act as head of the Department for Regulation of Magical Creatures had been to gain Merpeople dominance over the waters they inhabited. It had made the Ministry an invaluable ally and gained Charlie an uncountable number of enemies.

A fourth voice joined the conversation. "You're forgetting, my children, what the other half of politics is." Albus Dumbledore's portrait-self smiled down at them.

"The ability to twist words like taffy?" Minerva suggested, bitterness lining each syllable.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Not quite, my dear. Historical precedence. I'm mildly surprised Miss Granger hasn't already figured out the way to get her Enactment. Binns would be most disappointed."

"Binns doesn't recognize me when I pass him in the halls on my way up here," was Hermione's distracted answer. "There's barely any recorded history on werewolves. History is written by the oppressors, as you well know."

"You don't need a precedent concerning werewolves so much as one relating to a species that humans feared harm from in some manner," Charlie jumped in.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, concentrating on the flare of pain. "A species…oh, Binns, Merlin, the Goblins! The revolts were ended by allowing them an enterprise to which they were bound rather than enslaving or incarcerating them. If I can just mutate it slightly, there was magic involved, but I'm pretty sure that type is no longer allowed, still, there might be something…" Hermione stopped herself, smiling sheepishly up at Dumbledore. "Thank you, Professor."

"You would have figured it out eventually, my girl. Now, if you'll excuse me, Violet's holding a round of poker this afternoon, and my game could use some practice." Dumbledore winked before moseying through the other portraits, greeting his predecessors as he used their homes as a byway.

"You are correct," Minerva told Hermione, "the form of magic used to bind the Goblins to Gringotts is no longer allowed, but Oath Magic is. In fact, it is only a slight variation upon Oath Magic that holds the House Elves. Therefore the Ministry can't argue that non-humans don't qualify in its use."

Charlie added, "And as long as you manage to arrange for an out in the parameters of the school's response to the Oath, in lieu of the House Elves' clothes, then it wouldn't be impossible to release anyone from the Oath, should something go wrong."

"You didn't eat anything at the hospital, did you?" Minerva was examining Hermione with a concerned look.

Hermione blinked. "What? No."

"You appear queasy," Minerva explained.

"Just…the Dark Mark was Oath Magic." Hermione rubbed at the lightening bolt centered over her sternum and thought about markings and loyalty.

"Ah." Minerva pursed her lips. "That's something you should talk to Severus about. Dark magic can twist even the simplest of spells, let alone those with the power for insidiousness built in to them. He would most likely be able to help you avoid problems in that area."

It was the last thing she wanted to talk to Snape about, but Hermione knew that most of the time, achieving her aims took more than a bit of sucking things up and plastering her lip into nearly useless stiffness. "All right. I don't suppose he's around?"

Minerva glanced at the clock on her wall. Three kittens balanced precariously on tiny pebbles, the smallest one stepping from pebble to pebble to display the seconds, two larger ones moving much more slowly so as to give the minutes and hours. "He should be finishing up in fifteen minutes. I hate to push you out, but I have to meet with a student now, so if you want to walk down and wait for him, that would probably be best. It was good seeing you, Min, give my best to Remus and Zev. Charlie Weasley, if I have to tell you to come visit me one more time-"

Charlie held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Next week, at least once, you have my word of honor as a Weasley."

"In the vein of your father, or the twins?" Minerva asked suspiciously.

Charlie's smile was still too sharp at their memory, but his laughter was loud and real. "I guess you'll see come next week."

The two of them stepped into the revolving stairway, Hermione waving shortly as the door closed between them and Minerva. As they spiraled to the bottom, Hermione reached down to squeeze Charlie's hand. In return, Charlie cut off her circulation.

Ron had never quite realized his strength either.

*

Snape greeted her with, "Whatever the pup complained about, he was lying. I've been a perfect gentleman."

Hermione would have laughed at his evident distaste for even saying the words in conjunction with himself, but it would have destroyed any edge she might appear to have. "Your protestations of innocence are rather suspect in the face of my lack of accusations."

"Surely you didn't leave your pet project to have an afternoon chat with me."

"Deliciously clever, Snape." Hermione had learned a thing or two about sarcasm from the man.

"I have things to be doing. What is it? Her Highness Guinevere ate his homework? Lupin used it for kindling while attempting to light the stove? He had an untimely transformation and ate his own homework?"

"What kind of Oath did Voldemort require at the Marking ceremony?" Hermione was pleased at having wiped the smirk off his face for all of a second. Then he turned a shade of gray normally viewed only in freshly mixed cement.

"Is there a point to this stroll down Snape Memory Lane?"

Hermione seated herself on a desk and ignored the disparaging look he hurled her way. "I'm rewriting WERE. It's a bit long to explain, Minerva has a draft I'm sure she'd let you see, but the long and short of it is that I'm creating a school for werewolves. A safe haven, if you will. Dumbledore suggested that I use the precedence of Gringotts in relation to non-human containment spaces, but to do that I need binding magic, and the type used with Gringotts has long been outlawed. Oath Magic is what's left."

"Perhaps the fact that you are obviously frightened by its propensity to form allegiances with the Dark should be a warning to you." Snape hesitated, "You are wise in that fear."

Hermione was so unused to hearing anything complimentary from him that it was a fight not to slip right off the edge of the desk. "I overheard that time when you told Zev that no potion ingredient was inherently bad, not even the poisons."

"That hardly means I would dose a whole community with strychnine."

"Of course not. You would research the effects of strychnine, figure out what about it made it lethal and how it could be adapted to work with whatever concoction you were creating. I've watched you bang your head against the wall in regards to the Wolfsbane for over half a year now, you're too stubborn to give up just because people think things can't be done. So am I."

"Terribly wordy way of saying I can’t change your mind," Snape fussed.

"Turned on?" Hermione joked.

Snape eyed her as though she was something that wouldn't come off the bottom of his favorite cauldron. It might have affected her if she hadn't been so distracted by the suddenly pink tips of his ears.

Snape cleared his throat. "Theoretically, if there are boundaries laid down on the Oath in question, the Magic should have boundaries as well."

"So if I were to make the Oath renewable every year, say, that would limit the effects of mutative magic?"

"Precisely."

"I was thinking that there has to be some way for the bond to hold to the actual structure of the house, as opposed to me or someone else. I suppose I should stop at the library before I leave," Hermione mused aloud.

"See if Irma can't find a copy of Atlantis: The Confluence of Geographical and Magical Space. If it can be done, that will tell you."

"The Atlantis that figured heavily into the plans for the school?"

"It's been around awhile."

"Evidently."

Hermione was sorting through everything she had been told so far when Snape cut into her thoughts. "Find a way around the use of blood."

She stood, walking to where he was watching the inside of a cauldron, waiting for the signal to go further in his endeavors. "I'm sorry I asked like that. About your Oath."

His, "Don't you ever get tired of being sorry after the fact?" wasn't as cutting as she knew it could have been.

"Don't you?"

"A Slytherin knows no remorse."

"Ah," Hermione nodded. "So you left Voldemort at the height of his power because you like fighting for the underdog. We have more in common than I thought."

"There have been exceptions to the rule," Snape conceded.

Knowing when to quit, Hermione started for the door, "Thank you for your help."

"My colleague sent me some news in regard to Lupin's problem. Is there a good time-"

"Dinner tomorrow evening." It wasn't an invitation, it was a demand.

Snape pretended otherwise. "That should be fine."

Hermione allowed him his delusions.

*

"The active ingredients are Niffler blood and Doxy saliva," Snape was telling Remus when Hermione came back down to the kitchen after getting Zev in his bed.

"And it's going to purge the antibodies?" Remus looked vaguely apprehensive.

Snape seemed only too glad to confirm his fears. "It's not going to be pleasant. The blood will seek out the traces of silver in the antibodies and the saliva will make you severely sick, pulling them out of you by any way possible."

Remus sank down into a chair. "But I'll be able to use the Wolfsbane after, right?"

Snape crossed his arms over his chest. "Assuming it works, yes. You forget this is all theoretical. Even if does work…we'll have to wait and see."

"How long will the purging process take?" Hermione asked, sensing that Remus needed a moment to think.

"It depends on how much is in his system. My colleague thinks a couple of days will be sufficient but he admits that it could go on for a week."

"Awful lot of maybes." Remus put his hands between his legs to stop their shaking. Hermione pulled a chair next to him and took his hands in hers, firmly rubbing her thumbs over the inside of his palms. It was a few moments before he was calm enough for her to look up at Snape, ready to ask the next question.

The odd expression on Snape's face made her forget what it was she was going to ask. "What?"

He recovered himself, detached look of condescension sliding over his features. "If you don’t have any more questions, I would appreciate knowing whether or not I will be needing to make this potion. It is somewhat complicated."

Which probably meant it took twelve cauldrons being worked concurrently and a month of minutiae which needed attending. Snape considered the brewing of Wolfsbane to be relaxing. Hermione faced Remus. "I'll talk with Nora. We won’t leave you alone."

Remus stared at their hands. "It could not work."

"We'll try something else." Hermione forced enough conviction for both of them into her voice.

"If you'd like," Snape offered, "I could go home long enough for you two to have a tumble and come back when Miss Granger has 'convinced' you."

Remus moved so quickly that Hermione could still feel his hands in hers by the time he had Snape pinned to the wall, one hand at Snape's windpipe, the other twisting Snape's wand-hand awkwardly above his shoulder. "Not that it's any of your business who she or I chooses to sleep with, but that isn't what this is about. I shouldn't be surprised to find you have no concept of human affection without trade. Still, whether you comprehend or not, you will treat her with the respect due a goddess, due Rowena Ravenclaw, due Queen Guinevere. Or you will leave."

Snape's eyes flashed and Hermione waited with an odd emptiness in the hollow of her throat for him to wrench free and flounce out of their lives. Instead he shrunk slightly, wilting just a little in Remus' hands. "You must… It is as you say. I have no concept."

Remus let go, backing up. Snape's arm dropped to his side, but he otherwise stayed still. Hermione spoke up, "We aren't…this isn't about sex. It's something, but not that. And even if it were, Remus' decisions would still be his own. The respect you extend to me must in turn be extended to him."

"I should not have said that."

Hermione snorted. "No remorse indeed."

Snape glared but let the comment go. "There is still the matter of the potion."

"Yes," Remus sighed. "There is, isn't there?"

"The decision can be put off, the ingredients are available year 'round," Snape put forth. Hermione wondered if that was his version of an apology.

"No. No, make it, I'll try it."

Hermione knew that was Remus's acceptance.

"It takes two full months," Snape warned. "There's fermentation involved."

Remus rolled his neck slowly, whimpering at the tiny pops and cracks the motion released. "You'd best get cracking, then."

"If I get back now, I can start this evening."

Remus motioned that he was free to go. Snape started toward the fireplace. With a quick glance at Remus, Hermione followed. As he was reaching up to pinch some floo powder, Hermione grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed, letting go the moment Snape seemed to realize what was happening. "Now you have some concept," she said, and pushed him into the fireplace.

*

She let Ruel see the final draft before anyone. They hadn't spoken since his assessment of her last attempts, but he hadn't drawn her out, attacked her, or shown any hostility either.

He gave the draft back to her three days later. Attached to the top was a note: "You're cracked, this will never work." She took the lack of grammar corrections as his sign of approval.

Minerva quibbled about student safety issues upon reading it; Remus came and slept in her bed for a night, too still beside her; Snape made sure she'd actually tested her adaptations to stabilize the temporary Oaths. Kingsley offered, "I'll get you into a Wizengamot session, but from there you're on your own."

It took a month. Hermione took the time to plan her attack. Overwhelmingly, the British branch of the Wizengamot was comprised of heroes of the Grindewald Wars. Several of them had been good friends of Dumbledore's and were of his mind on the subject of werewolves. Stuart Muddler and Dahlia Northingham, however, were not. Dahlia was the oldest member of the council and by far its most conservative. Stuart was a puppy compared to most of them at a mere eighty-four, but was stuck on a platform of "bringing the old ways back." Hermione was always tempted to inquire if he meant the ways of Salazar Slytherin and forced wizard ghettoization for fear of Muggle persecution, but she wisely kept her sense of preposterousness to herself.

The council required a unanimous vote on any issue to pass new law, but it was generally recognized that unless one or more members felt terribly strongly about a specific issue, they would give in to the wishes of the majority. Hermione feared this was probably one of those issues wherein the strong feelings clause could be invoked.

Due to this fact, she squashed down the reactionary nausea that, for her, came hand-in-hand with pulling any kind of publicity stunt, and asked Zev if he'd accompany her to the hearing.

Zev cocked his head. "Why?"

Hermione had planned what to say, how to craft her words so that he wouldn’t feel like a pawn. His eyes were so trusting that all she could manage was, "Because you're real. I need them to see what the reality of this is."

"What if they say no?" Zev's breaths quickened slightly. "They could take me away from you."

"No, baby." Hermione swiped a hair from his eyes. They had cut it just two weeks before but it was looking to be almost time again. "I have papers that say they can’t do that. They can't have you back. Ever."

"Am I gonna have to say anything?"

"Nope, just sit there and watch me work. You used to do it all the time. It won't be that different."

"They'll be watching," Zev disagreed. "Waiting for me to screw up."

"But you won't," Hermione reassured him.

"How do you know?"

"You haven't disappointed me yet."

Zev opened his mouth to argue. He shut it, straightening up a bit. "I won't now."

Hermione rewarded him with a hug. "Good. Great."

*

The Zev ploy had worked, if just barely. Northingham had still fought viciously to keep the legislation down, and as a result, it had taken nearly a month for a unanimous consensus to be gained.

A month in which Hermione ate only when reminded, and just barely managed to help Zev with his homework without mishap.

Muddler had worked as the catalyst for the decision in the end, so Hermione was later told. Evidently, Zev was roughly the age of his own grandson, and whatever else was true of the man, he loved his grandchildren more than his prejudices. Muddler put his renowned rhetoric to use on Northingham, and gained Hermione her school.

Luckily, Hermione had decided to be optimistic, and by the time the decision was made, she had a magical building company lined up, with nothing left to do but sign the papers. Remus and her both signed, as she had changed the house to being in both their names. Werewolves could still co-own private property (which made it near impossible for them to own anything, as most wizards refused to co-own anything with one), and it made Remus more secure about his place in their home.

Remus had signed on with the provision that they wait until he was able to test Snape's Anti-Silver Potion and see if it actually affected the Wolfsbane. It wasn't much of a wait, since Snape owled them to say he was finished a day before the Wizengamot's decision came down. Remus had refused to start on it until Hermione was feeling more stable, however, in case he should need her attention.

He took the first batch (Snape had instructed that he take one every morning and every evening for five consecutive days) the morning after the building papers had been signed. The full was in two weeks, so if everything went according to plan, construction could start in three.

Hermione was glad Remus had waited when she arrived home that first day to find Nymph holding tight to a hysterical Zev, and Ginny trying to calm the more obviously agitated boy at the same time as Snape, who looked as though he were watching the final battle all over again.

Hermione grabbed on to one of the overwhelming number of questions flooding her head. "Where's Remus?"

Ginny turned to her, "Thank Merlin you're home. He's in your room. Snape tried to get him settled, but…well, I think you'd best see if you can do better."

"Is Zev-"

Nymph tightened her grip on the boy. "We've got it handled. The professor was smart enough to at least call us once things had gotten completely and utterly out of hand."

Hermione was about to ask why she hadn't been called and what 'out of hand' meant when she remembered that she had asked the Mungo's staff that she not be bothered, since she wanted to talk to the ward inhabitants about the school. The things that the Prophet wouldn't print.

She turned to walk toward the stairs, forcing herself to take them one at a time. She reached her room and opened the door. Remus lay curled under the covers, too tiny a mound in the middle of the bed. Hermione shut the door behind her and walked to the bed, lifting the covers and replacing them over herself, sheltering the two of them beneath. "Remus?"

His breaths were coming in short pants, carrying the smell of metallically tinged sickness. He opened his eyes. "Minny?"

"They sometimes call me that, yes." Hermione was careful not to touch him for reasons that she couldn't explain to herself.

"I hurt Snape."

This was slightly worrying, but as Snape hadn't looked to be terribly injured, she countered with, "You scared Zev."

"I know." Remus tried to curl up tighter. "The medicine…I thought Snape was trying to hurt Zev. It screws things up in my mind. I forgot that Snape wasn't one of them. I forgot…"

"That Voldemort is dead?" Hermione tried.

"That the others are dead. Even Sirius. It was like time disappeared. Except I knew I had to keep Zev safe. I stole Snape's wand, casted an Excoriate on him."

Hermione barely had time to be grateful that it hadn't been one of the Unforgivables. "Did he throw it off?"

"Zev kept screaming at me to stop it. He finally stole the wand from me and practically threw it at Snape. The moment the hex was broken, Snape Petrified me. I probably would've been impressed by the recovery and power in it all if I hadn't been scared out of my mind."

"You been up here ever since?"

Remus nodded. "It took about twenty minutes for the deliriousness to fade, and I spent another thirty getting to know the toilet rim. I crawled into the bed a bit ago. Hope you don't mind, I don't think Snape knew which room he was depositing me in. He cast a reverse warding that I haven't a prayer of undoing, and honestly, it felt less scary in here."

Knowing that whatever had been playing with his mind wasn't doing it for the moment, Hermione brushed a strand of hair out of Remus's face. "It's fine. You can stay here whenever you like."

"Is Zev okay?"

"Snape called Gin and Nymph once you were out of the way, they've got things under control."

"Is he going to kill me once I'm well enough?"

Hermione caught on to the change of pronoun reference. "I don’t think he blames you. He seems a bit surprised. I think he would've told us about this side effect if he'd known. He'll probably bluster a lot and use this as ammunition in fights for the twenty odd years, but really, how is that different from anything else with him?"

Remus allowed a small smile to cross his lips, recognizing the truth of that assessment. "I'll apologize when I've finished on the meds and I can trust myself around him."

"We're gonna have to find a way to make Zev understand."

"It's my mess, I'll take care of it. Just let me sleep, right now, yeah?"

Hermione extracted herself from the covers, reforming them around Remus so that they sheltered him, but no longer covered his head. She leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Want me to stay in your room tonight? Give you some space?"

"Please don't," Remus mumbled, already half asleep.

Hermione whispered, "I'll be here when you wake up."

*

Zev was sleeping with his head on the table when Hermione snuck downstairs, quite sure that Remus would be asleep for some time. Ginny explained, "We found your Dreamless, put a drop in his hot cocoa."

Hermione ran a hand over Zev's back. "Did you get him to eat anything first?"

"Little bit," Ginny sat Zev up and was about to lift him out of the chair when Nymph elbowed her way in. Mobilicorpus worked just as well, but none of them liked using magic on him if it wasn't necessary. His parents had kept him Petrified for large amounts of time after he'd been bitten. Which was probably part of why this afternoon had freaked him out so much.

The thought reminded Hermione of why she'd come downstairs in the first place, "Where's Snape hiding?"

"Probably his dungeons," Nymph grumbled. "We tried to get him to stay, but he wasn't even responding to food bribes."

"All right." Hermione ran a hand over the top of her head. "I hate to ask but can the both of you stay a bit longer? I need at least one of you with Remus. Zev shouldn't be able to wake up for at least eight hours, but-"

"It's covered." Ginny pecked Hermione on the cheek. "Go."

"Thanks," Hermione called, already on her way to the fireplace. She flooed into the teacher's lounge, since that was where her fireplace connected to, and made her way to the dungeons, stopping only for cursory greetings with Firenze and Terry. Snape wasn't in his labs or his classrooms and Hermione followed the path that the Baron had revealed to her earlier that year toward Snape's quarters.

It took ten minutes of solid knocking to get him to answer the door. The expression on his face would have sent her scurrying three years before, but she wasn't afraid of him anymore. At least, not in that way. "You could've waited for me to come back down."

Snape stood back from the door. "This isn't a conversation we're having in the hall."

As loathe as she was to agree with him about anything at the moment, Hermione stepped into his quarters. She was deciding whether to make sure he was all right or ream him a new one when he spoke up, changing all of her plans.

"You have to know I didn't know. I would have said something if I'd known. I most certainly would not have allowed him to be around Mr. Granger. I've owled my colleague to inform him of this rather unexpected side effect." Snape met her eyes, his own hesitantly trusting.

She wasn't sure exactly what he was putting his trust in, but she sighed. "I know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Snape drew himself up. "I'm fine."

"Have you been to Poppy?"

Snape threw her an insulted look, but said nothing.

"Self-medicating, then?"

That broke his silence. "I'm not, as you suggest, a drug addict. I spent four years directly serving Voldemort, another three running in his circles. I know a little something about healing. Myself as well as others. I wasn't even under the hex for that long."

"Yes, well, when something is scraping your insides up from the top down-"

"Miss Granger. I promise you, I am fine. How is your pet beast?"

Hermione gave him a warning look. "I shall let you get away with the name calling this once, and only because of circumstances surrounding. He's sleeping, completely upset at his actions, and worried that Zev is going to hate him. He's relatively sure that next time you see each other there will be words on your part, particularly two, followed by a lot of green light."

"While this is most likely beyond the grasp of your Gryffindor mentalities, I like to think that those two words and everything they imply are something I have left behind me." Snape's tone managed to convey extreme anger, uncertainty and hope all at once.

Hermione silently agreed. "It was a joke. A poor one, I apologize."

Snape neither accepted nor refused her apology. "Mr. Granger wouldn't let me near him when I came back down from locking Lupin up. I had to call the harpies to get him to breathe."

"The harpies go by Ginny and Nymph," Hermione informed him absent-mindedly. "You had to Petrify Remus. Zev's parents kept Zev Petrified and locked in a cage until they were able to drop him off at the Ministry. He came in the cage."

"Ah." Snape's voice was even, but the skin around his eyes paled to the color of mold. "I would suggest throwing off a Petrificus be moved to earlier in his curriculum."

"Way ahead of you," Hermione told him. "But that's a fourth year trick in the best of situations, and he doesn't even have a wand yet. Nor will he until he's eleven. I won't stunt his natural magical abilities by having him channel them before they've fully developed."

"I was using my mother's by the time I was seven. I hardly think my magic has been negatively affected," Snape argued.

"For whatever reason that choice was made, either on your part or the part of others," Hermione could sense the tensing of his shoulders, "I'm glad it worked out. It doesn’t make me any more willing to risk things in Zev's case. Perhaps it was necessity in your case. There is no necessity with Zev. Not immediately, anyway."

Snape inclined his head. "Would you prefer I waited before coming back? Allow him some time to recover?"

"I expect you back tomorrow afternoon, same time, same place. What's more, I expect you to stay for dinner."

Snape looked as though he were considering arguing. For whatever reason, he decided against it. "Keep Lupin away from me."

"Until he's finished with the Potion, of course."

"Tomorrow then, Miss Granger."

The wards let her out without a fuss. It wasn't until she was down the hall that she realized he had set them to recognize her.

*

Back at the house, she flooed Mungo's to tell them she wouldn't be in for a couple of days. Ginny and Nymph offered to stay in Remus's room until things cleared up. She took them up on it, unsure of her ability to take care of both a severely sick Remus and a hyper-nervous Zev.

She showered longer than she had planned. Between talking to the werewolves about her plans for the school and asking their help and the whole situation she'd come home to, her normal sixteen hour day had felt more like a good thirty. She was wrinkled and soft when she stepped out, and she had to wait while she brushed her hair and her teeth and picked out a robe for the next day before putting on her pajamas, letting the heat leech off of her body.

She was startled by Remus's voice as she crawled into bed. "Smell good."

"Hey." She wriggled closer to allow him the full effect. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"Wanted to know how it went with Severus."

Hermione played for some time. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"Like someone is dragging barbed hooks through me, snagging prey, and taking it back out the hard way." He added as an afterthought, "Oh, and I'm a bit queasy."

"Lay flat on your back." She got out of bed, rustling through the chest of drawers against the opposite wall. "Mind if I make it a little lighter in here?"

Remus made a sound of assent. Hermione Charmed the lamps to burn at a low level. She approached the bed again, "Take off your shirt."

It was testament to how truthful he was being about the way he felt that he didn't even murmur a protest, just dragged the shirt up over his head and threw it to the side. Hermione did him the courtesy of not staring at the jagged long-healed scars gracing his torso, only just managing not to make a face at the entry wound of Malfoy's knife, still pink and infected-looking. It was where she started. "This might hurt a bit, but it should make things better rather than worse."

Hermione dipped her fingers into the bottle of peppermint oil. She allowed some of it to drip onto the three-inch not-quite-healed cut before gently rubbing it into the actual surface. Remus sucked in a breath. "Peppermint?"

"It was on the list of things you could ingest while taking the Potion, so it shouldn't hurt to have it rubbed on topically. It'll probably take a while to start working. Just keep breathing."

When Hermione had finished with the wound and was swirling her fingers over less sensitive areas, Remus repeated, "Tell me about Severus."

"He's coming for dinner tomorrow."

"If I wasn’t suspect of the state of his soul, I would guess him positively besotted with you."

"Shut up, you. You owe him an apology, but you can't give it until you're off the Potion, because I'm not allowing you near him a moment before."

Remus sniffed haughtily. The effect was somewhat ruined when he choked on a nasal intake of peppermint. He pretended not to notice. "I'll have you know, I knew that without you having to tell me."

"I do know. All the same, he's had as hard a day as any of the rest of us. He didn’t even want to come back. Thought Zev would hate him."

"Can't imagine anyone doing that." Remus's sarcasm was muted.

Hermione screwed the lid back on the bottle and helped Remus into his shirt. "Better?"

"Starting to be. Thanks."

"I'm staying home tomorrow."

Remus blinked. "You don't have to."

"I don’t like the thought of you being alone."

"I'm quite-"

"I don’t like it." Hermione squirmed to center of the bed, extinguishing the lights with a whispered Nox.

Remus laid down, moving his forehead carefully to connect with her. "Me neither."

When she was sure he was asleep, she moved to hold him, not so that he couldn't get loose, but nearly. Exhausted, she stayed awake.

*

Hermione watched Snape and Zev dance around each other -- Zev caught between terror and embarrassment, Snape unused to having to own up to his actions in any arena that wasn't death defying -- feeling more ineffectual by the moment. Just as she was about to leave them to their own misery and go check on Remus, Snape offered, "I'll teach you how to make a muscle rub. For…after."

"Without a wand?"

"I'll be taking care of that part."

This didn't bother Zev much. "Where?"

Snape looked up at Hermione. "Is the kitchen free?"

"For the moment. Gin'll be back in an hour or so to make dinner."

Snape nodded at Zev to rise. "We should be done by then."

She watched as they walked through the doors, Zev still skittish, if momentarily distracted by his excitement. She made sure Remus was still asleep and caught some rest lying next to him. She woke to a knock on the door. Remus stirred and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, "Shh."

She opened the door, blinking at the greater concentration of light in the hallway. Ginny apologized, "Oh, hey. Go back to sleep."

Hermione ignored her. "Dinner time?"

"Yeah, but I can save some for you."

Hermione stepped into the hall, closing the door softly behind her. "I'm up. Honestly, I wanna see how Zev is doing anyway."

"What the bloody hell were they making in the kitchen?"

"Why?"

"It smells like you let Remus sick up in the sink all day."

Hermione rubbed at her temples. "Fantastic. We can eat in the dining room."

"Nymph already set the places in there."

They reached the dining room and Nymph motioned Hermione into the seat next to Zev. Hermione reached up to mess with his hair. "Hey."

His smile was small, a secret between the two of them. "Hi."

She took that as confirmation that no unmet disasters had occurred while she was upstairs. Just to be sure, she peered over at where Snape was serving himself a piece of the shepherds pie. The set of his shoulders was just a fraction looser than it had been earlier that day, but it was enough.

When he had assembled his plate, he asked, "Lupin?"

Hermione gave him as much as she could. "Sleeping. Sick for about four hours total, on and off, today. It seems to be worst about an hour after he takes the stuff. All he can really get down is fluids, and they only stay down if he takes them after he's done being sick, which we're never quite sure if he's really there or not. Is there some way to tell if it's working?"

"My colleague suggests you keep an eye on the scar from the original wound. It should clear up."

The tips of Hermione's fingers warmed with remembered sensation of rubbing the oil into said scar. "All right."

"I've been thinking," Snape began, and Hermione was tempted, oh-so-sorely tempted to make a crack. She didn't. "Your Act went through, and I assume it only a matter of time before whomever is taking care of your building needs is out here to alter this place satisfactorily?"

Hermione's heart skittered. "Don't tell me that bothers you. You sold the house to me, Snape."

There was a moment wherein his lips drew back, aiming for the kill. Across the table, Nymph tensed, and Ginny cut another piece off her pie with unnerving precision. Instead, he waved a hand. "Hardly. I was inquiring as to the time frame in which you see all of this occurring."

"The school should be fully functional by fall term."

"Staff and students will be arriving before then, however?"

"I'm hoping for June, at the very latest." It was late March.

"Then you will need your Potions cabinet stocked come May," Snape guessed.

"That was on my list of things to talk to people about." Slightly lower than getting the school built, slightly higher than finding someone to cook for all its inhabitants.

"I've spoken to Mungo's, they have absolutely no issue with transferring my contract in regards to werewolf welfare."

Zev made an angry noise which Hermione voiced more coherently. "Shocking."

"I'm willing to extend and rework the contract, if you so wish."

Hermione was just about to nonchalantly schedule a time for them to do this when it hit her. She hadn't asked for this. She hadn't approached him, or hinted, or even really thought about this. It made her dizzy to realize and she put her fork down. "When…when is it good for you? To meet with me."

There was something Hermione couldn't quite hear in his, "I'll find something that works for both of us."

Hermione told Zev to finish his broccoli. She didn't tell Snape that things were already working out for her.

*

Emmett, who had never yet stopped avoiding Hermione at all costs, was the first of the ward inhabitants to approach her. "I don't know of what use I would be in a school."

Hermione did her best to appear nonplussed. "What was your occupation before you were bitten?"

"Cursebreaker. Free lance."

Hermione worked frantically to push thoughts of Bill being locked up to the corner of her mind, where they wouldn't impede this conversation. "I'll assume you're well-versed in hexes also, then."

"I would've put my skill up against anyone's." There was a sliver of lost assuredness around his eyes, but a promise of competence that Hermione had never before seen seemed to settle around his neck, as though waiting to filter the rest of the way through him.

"Know anything about ward creation and maintenance?"

"I've always been the one trying to break them down."

"Should give you a unique perspective. At least you'll know what not to do."

Emmett snorted. "I broke a curse this one time, the creator had left a backdoor to it. On top of the password. Easiest job I ever came across. I was surprised they bothered to hire a breaker, but wizards get intimidated by magic with shocking ease."

Hermione had never thought of it that way. "So you think you can do it?"

Emmett tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "You have access to the Ministry library, right?"

"Um, well, I have friends who do."

"Would it be a big thing for you to ask them to see if there are any books on the basics of large ward construction? I'd wanna have a step-by-step overview, just in case."

"I can probably do one better and ask Zach Smith to loan me a few out of his personal library. He does this stuff professionally, enacted the wards I have up right now, but a contract this big means a lot of money, even with a friendship based discount, and I'd rather have someone in house take care of it. Quicker response time if something goes wrong."

Emmett hunched his shoulders. "Does your friend…would he be willing to talk me through stuff, if I needed it?"

For one utterly lovely second, Hermione couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Then she remembered. "Oh. Zach's been over to check on the state of the wards and eat with Zev, Remus and me at least five times since we moved in. He's a bit of an arrogant prick until you get to know him, but other than that, there shouldn't be an issue."

Emmett ducked his head. "Yeah, I was probably a bit like that myself. Before."

"I wouldn't mind seeing that again," Hermione whispered. She picked up the volume again with, "Tell me something."

Emmett brought his face up. "Hm?"

"What do you think of Kieran as a headmaster?"

Emmett paused. "He's a bit…odd, isn’t he?"

"I went to Hogwarts under Dumbledore."

"Well, right, so did I. But Dumbledore wasn't a werewolf. Quite respected the old loony was."

"Actually," Hermione paused for effect, "so was Kieran. He mentioned that his wife had worked for the Ministry and that he still had contacts because of that, which I thought was a bit odd, but didn't question until I started getting more and more curious as to why, exactly, Kieran would have chosen Mungo's on top of registration. So while I generally try to respect people's privacy, I did some discreet poking. I asked Minister Shacklebolt if he knew anything. Turns out, he knew Kieran and his wife. Kieran's wife was the personal assistant to the head of the MLE for nearly thirty years. Kieran trained Unspeakables. He retired when he felt he could no longer stand behind the Ministry's hypocrisies, but he remained one of the most respected trainers known to that division. Here's the interesting, part, though: Kieran was bitten when he was thirty-four. He was employed by the Ministry for upwards of forty years, twenty-five of those while infected. I've never asked, but I suspect that Kieran came here out of a responsibility felt toward other werewolves, people he did nothing to protect while he supposedly could." That, and without his wife, Kieran was alone. Hermione hoped his motivation was a bit more complicated than wishing for some company. "He's a teacher, he has a sense of community, and he has some amazing connections to the non-infected community. Tell me where I'm going wrong."

Instead, Emmett asked, "What if he doesn't want it?"

"I'll just have to draft you into service."

"I'll get right on making him see that he's the only person for the job."

Hermione laughed. "You do that."

*

Everybody involved in the situation was so used to things going horribly and utterly awry that it was almost beyond them as to how to feel when the week of Remus sicking up all over the place worked to a purpose. The dose of Wolfsbane that he took before the rise of the full moon worked as it was intended. As a plus, Remus transformed with only the pain of a no-longer-young-body twisting and molding itself into another form.

When he had slept off the worst effects of the transformation, Remus pleaded to her without decorum, "Stay with me while I tell Snape I'm sorry."

"Because I'm the world's most effective referee when it comes to him."

"A sight more effective than me," Remus responded, unmoved.

Despite herself, Hermione could see that was probably true. She came home from work the next day, early enough to ensure Snape staying for dinner.

Remus cooked to show off his growing skill. He made chicken and dumplings, the dish he had the most practice and finesse at, and one that he knew Snape enjoyed. Hermione wondered if Remus's mum had taught him as hers had that almost anyone could be mollified by the presence of a good meal inside them.

Remus crowned the meal with chocolate biscuits. Hermione cut Zev off at an intake of three and ordered him to go do homework. He went off sulkily, but not so much so that he forgot to thank Remus for dinner and Snape for his lessons. Hermione almost wished he would take things for granted, like a normal kid.

Remus put another biscuit in front of Snape. "I'm sorry that I attacked you."

Snape methodically broke the biscuit into four pieces.

Remus tried, "I'm sorry that I forgot you were one of the good guys."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Forgot?"

Remus scowled. "Yes, forgot. I was on heavy medication, lest you were unaware. My mind got a bit scrambled."

Snape didn't respond to the sarcasm. "It's hard to forget something you've never believed in the first place."

Suddenly, Hermione wished she hadn't eaten that second biscuit. "We know you were on our side, Snape."

"One would think that a girl as bright as you might have mastered the correct usage of pronouns. While I have no doubt that you have reconciled yourself to this -- no doubt distasteful -- fact, in which case the called for pronoun is the singular 'I', my old school chum here remains less than convinced, I'm most certain."

Remus sneered, "Turnabout's only fair play."

Snape pressed the tips of his fingers together. "Beg your pardon?"

"Well over twenty years pass and you refuse to forgive me when I never once intended you harm, at least not the kind of harm that would have befallen you. I've never once asked that you forget, or rethink your blame, but I have begged your forgiveness, the chance for your friendship and you've thrown the gesture in my face time and time over. Don't presume to lecture me on belief and forgiveness. I've recognized that you were one of us from the moment Albus interfered in the proceedings to send you to Azkaban." The words spilled from his lips in an oddly coherent keening and Hermione would have bet he was remembering how Dumbledore hadn't protested Sirius's lack of a trial; how nobody had protested it. "Your problem is that you mistake dislike for misunderstanding and while the two are closely linked, my attitude toward you has been most distinctly the former for well over a decade."

Snape hissed, "Your dislike is based on misunderstanding, you Gryffindor simpleton."

"So explain it to me, you dungeon-dwelling Slytherin."

For just a second a look of purest frustration and deepest longing sabotaged the smooth features of Snape's emotionless scowl. "Nevermind."

Remus's laugh held no amusement. "Hardly."

Snape's finger drove itself into Remus's shoulder. "You're the Little Werewolf Who Could. School prefect, Gryffindor hero best friends, eventual upstanding member of the Order of the Phoenix. She's the Mudblood Who Can Do No Wrong. Saving our world, crusading for those less fortunate than her, loved by all and sundry. I would not expect you to understand, even were I to draw it out in simple pictures representing single-syllable words."

"Allow me to get a pen, you'll never know until you try," Hermione suggested flippantly.

"If you haven't noticed, that werewolf thing pretty much deems me as much an outcast as your sterling personality," Remus commented lightly on the tail of Hermione's words.

Snape blanched. "Yet you have a community of people who have overcome their prejudice to maintain their relationship with you." He paused. "You have her."

"I don't-" Remus started.

"I'm not-" Hermione spoke over him.

Snape stood. "I accept your apology Lupin. I am sorry in return for having Petrified you and locked you in a room. I have no doubt I will be seeing both of you in the indecently near future. A good night."

Hermione heard the near-angry roar of flames before her legs had remembered what it meant to unbend and chase after.

*
Child
*

Hermione had been peripherally aware of the fact that magic probably sped up the construction process, but she hadn't been expecting to be staring at a veritable castle in place of what had been her somewhat cozy house in the space of a month. It allowed for the ex-Mungo's crew to be moved in by mid-May and the doors open to anyone who would come by early June, as Hermione had planned.

With a significant amount of research, Snape's insights and a bit of help with the tweaking from Remus and Ginny, the Oath Magic had been woven into the foundation that the house stood on and the roots of the foremost trees on the property, binding the werewolves to the ground, rather than the somewhat more fallible structure. The Oaths would have to be renewed every six months and could be broken at that time if necessary.

After a week of persistent nagging, Kieran had agreed to take the position of Headmaster on the condition that Redda was given control of the gardens and grounds. She had been a landscape artist for several magical tourist gardens before being bitten, and missed working with plants.

Emmett spent his first month in the house working day in and day out with Zach, making sure the wards were as infallible as any wizard could hope to make them. Millicent developed a soft spot for Emmett and gave him a kneazle on the grounds that, "They're good at sensing danger. He'll know if something's wrong."

Emmett named the kneazle Pandorus. Pandorus and Guinevere had the run of the house within two days.

Ruel was placed as the administrative head of faculty and staff, but in truth was Hermione's right hand man in cases of needing to liaise with other institutions, most particularly the ministry. Verona had been in charge of updating Astrology textbooks for a publishing firm, and knew the subject backward and forward. She agreed to teach it so long as Steven was given the position of Quidditch Coach. Hermione wasn't too bothered by that, since Steven had worked as a team strategies leader for a private wizarding firm after nearly a decade announcing Quidditch games for the minor leagues. Gerard finally broke down and admitted to having a bit of the Sight when they were all scrounging to find him a spot he would enjoy and feel comfortable in. Hermione asked, "Is that something you're going to feel comfortable trying to convey and teach to students?"

"It can't be taught."

"The techniques," Hermione specified.

Gerard flushed. "I made money on the side doing Readings for people when I was a kid. It's kind of a hobby."

Hermione was convinced those made the best kind of jobs. She told Remus he was taking Defense Against the Dark Arts and refused to speak to him about it until he saw things her way. It didn't take too long for him to come around. It took him protesting, "Let me at least actually apply," and her responding, "My whole third year was your application."

As she had planned, Hermione stole Care of Magical Creatures for herself. By the time the first twenty students had arrived in late June, there was a cook on hand, a bevy of housekeeping and maintenance workers, a Healer, and Arithmancy, Charms, Transfigurations and History professors.

By mid-August Redda agreed to double as the Herbology professor should nobody turn up. Two days later, a twenty-four year old kid, two years a werewolf, three years previous experience in a cultivating lab showed up and offered to try his hand at the profession. Hermione asked Redda, "Know anything about Potions?"

Redda didn't, so Hermione found herself back in Snape's labs. They hadn't much spoken beyond what was necessary since he had flooed out of the house in such a hurry. She brought biscuits that the cook, Marissa, had whipped up for the kids earlier that day. They had walnuts in them. Hermione wasn't entirely sure how she knew it, but she knew walnuts were Snape's favorite nuts.

He bit into one of the biscuits. "Resorted to house elves, have you?"

"No, Marissa is wolvish, not elvish."

"I owled to say the batch of Dreamless was going to run a day or so late, did you not get the message?" His expression conveyed the direct thought that he less than trusted anyone in the house to have actually gotten it to her.

"Ruel handles communications from the outside, I got the message within minutes of when it arrived." Ruel and Snape had meant once before during one of Zev's last lessons prior to the summer hols. They approved of each other in a general sense.

"You could have simply owled back to tell me that."

Hermione breathed out sharply. "If that was all I had to say to you, I would have."

"Of what new favor shall I be the lucky requestee?"

Hermione didn't waste time. "Your colleague, in New Mexico, what's the likelihood that he would move here and take a position as my Potions professor?"

"No otherwise suitable applicants?"

"No applicants at all," Hermione clarified. "I have everything else I need, but that position, well, you know how hard it is to find someone who's made that their life's work, and I'm working with a somewhat limited community, not to mention the number of wizards who are willing to teach amongst a population of almost entirely werewolves. Believe me, I've asked around."

"My colleague runs his own research center in New Mexico. He spent over ten years gathering enough money and support for the place. He has people under him, responsibilities; children that I doubt he will make pack up and leave. No, he's not the answer."

Hermione rubbed her eyes. She fought back the desire to cry from sheer exhaustion. "Didn't hurt to ask, I suppose."

She was nearly out the door when he offered, "I'll think of something. I'll send my suggestion along with the Dreamless."

In her surprise, she forgot to say thank you. She hoped the biscuits were really good.

*

In direct contrast to what he had promised, Snape sent the Dreamless along with his suggestion. The suggestion came in the form of a Thestral, who caused pandemonium both by wreaking havoc on the wards and being visible to most of the faculty watching over the children on the front lawn and nearly none of the children.

Hermione burst out of the house, wand in hand, just in time to see the wings shrink back down into shoulder blades, the hooves separate themselves out into fingers, the snout reform into a human visage. The woman left at the end of the Transfiguration somewhat resembled her alternate form. She was long and muscular, and while she wasn't exactly ugly, her skin didn't quite seem to fit her right. She broke into an abashed grin at the sea of faces staring at her -- as the children who couldn't see her as a Thestral had seen her appear in bits and pieces and the adults hadn't been expecting anyone -- "Um, sorry 'bout that. Don't like Apparating, tend to splinch myself."

Hermione stepped forward, wand still at the ready. "Hermione Granger."

"Hydrea Jigger. Severus said that he'd tell you I was coming but I can see he conveniently neglected to mention it." The girl spoke with an accent that suggested native English birth but schooling elsewhere. Which had to be the case, since she looked no more than a couple of years in either direction from Hermione and Hermione was relatively sure she hadn't forgotten anyone from Hogwarts just yet.

"Jigger. Are you-"

"Arsenius' niece," Hydrea filled in. "My parents died in the first uprising and he took care of me."

"You should be around my age. Why don't I know you?"

"A few years older, actually, but yes. My parents had been teachers at Durmstrang while still alive. My uncle sent me there. I've heard all about you. Igor could not shut up when he came back after the tournament. Herm-own-ninny this, Herm-own-ninny that. Until then, we'd quite thought him a poof."

Hermione couldn't help smiling at the combination of mirth and mock put-out quality of Hydrea's monologue. "No, definitely not. I'll assume Snape had some point in sending you with three months of Dreamless strapped to your back?"

Hydrea tucked long, slightly discolored fingers under the straps of the bag flush against her back. "Severus mentioned you might need a Potions teacher."

Hermione glanced behind her to where she still had an audience. "Let's get you inside. You must be knackered. Tea?"

Hydrea responded with a polite, "Please."

Hermione watched out of her eye to make sure that the children went back to their games as her and Hydrea made their way into the school. She led Hydrea up three floors and around several bends, twists and turns until they were at a room guarded faithfully by a portrait of a woman with a wreath of flowers in her hair and a rather motherly air about her. Hermione greeted the portrait of Kieran's late wife, "Afternoon, Cassia."

"Hello dear. Who's the new thing?"

"This is Hydrea Jigger."

Hydrea offered, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Indeed, Miss Jigger. Password?"

"Tarantella."

Cassia's grin was toothy, "Fantastic twirl-about that one is. Go on ahead girls, he's just sorting some paper."

Kieran looked up from his paper expectantly when the two women came through the door. "Afternoon. Have a seat."

Both women did as suggested. Hermione conjured some tea for the three of them. She took a sip of hers before introductions. "Headmaster, this is Hydrea Jigger. Miss Jigger, Headmaster Kieran O'Dunn."

Hydrea leaned over the desk to offer her hand. "A pleasure."

"Miss Jigger was sent by one Severus Snape as a candidate for our position of Potions Master," Hermione explained.

"Oh," Hydrea interrupted, "See, there's the thing. I'm in something of a spot, to be honest. As you probably both know, my uncle was among those lost in the second uprising. I was near to finished with my Master's Certification when he died and I was in no mind to finish the thing, so I left to help the Slug family handle the business. As it turns out, though, retail isn't really my thing. I sold my half to the Slugs and used the money to enroll myself in a part time program in order to finish my Certification. I should be done by the end of the year but I'm not quite there yet. So you'd be hiring an unknown quantity in that, without any type of degree."

Hermione glanced at Kieran before asking Hydrea, "How do you know Snape?"

Hydrea blinked. "He's been a regular customer since I was in trainers. I've known him for as long as I can remember. He's been a great help to me these past several years, talking shop whenever he would come to pick up an order, making suggestions when I was trying new things out. I'd most likely have lost my edge and had to retake courses if it hadn't been for him."

Hermione told Kieran, "Your turn."

Kieran leaned back into his chair. "Do you read The Daily Prophet Miss Jigger?"

"Only when I need a laugh. I have other ways of keeping myself aware. I know what this place is. I know you're practically all werewolves." Her facial expression remained bland, but her voice had just the tiniest note of strain.

"That scares you." Kieran's comment wasn't judgmental, merely statement of fact.

"For…of course it scares me. I was raised by wizards. Of course it bloody well-" She broke off. "Look, Severus would never put me in a position wherein I would be harmed. He brews the Wolfsbane himself and there isn't a person in the Potions community, here or otherwise, that I trust more to complete a Potion correctly. He also tells me that I'm perfectly safe in my Animagic form should anything go wrong with the Bane. I'm doubly guarded, as I see it."

Kieran pursed his lips. "Well then, I think we've got ourselves a Potions professor."

*

The first day of classes was an all-out disaster. The younger kids kept getting lost on their way in between classes, the older kids seemed to see it as their duty to act out and question authority, the kids in the middle didn't want to have anything to do with anything. Hermione had expected most of this: overwhelmingly, the youngest ones were newly bitten and scared at being away from what they had thought of as home, the older kids had very likely been mistreated since infection, and those in the middle were a mish-mosh and at an age where it was easiest just to disappear. Still, it had been a maddening experience, trying to teach classes.

While the staff and faculty had all been equipped with wands (albeit, on the condition that they must be relinquished whenever a werewolf left the property) the students, even those of age, were kept wandless. Those who were eleven years and older had wands, but they were kept in the hands of the staff, who handed them out for classes and collected them at the end of the day. Since most of the children, even the older ones, hadn't had any experience with a wand, this was the tactic the faculty had voted upon to keep damage from over-exuberant students and emotionally challenged teens to a minimum. Still, there had been mishaps, and the Healer had already attended to a boy sprouting feathers rather than hair from his head, and a girl who couldn't stop skipping.

The staff met in the much expanded kitchen to have a couple of drinks and whinge about their day. At near to midnight, Remus and Hermione gave their excuses to anyone still standing and snuck off to her room. Remus still technically had a room of his own, but he hadn’t much used it since the week he had spent in hers while on the Anti-Silver Potion.

Hermione claimed the bathroom first, brushing her teeth and combing out her hair. She threw on some pajamas and relinquished the room to Remus. He pattered out a few minutes later and sat down on the edge of the bed. Hermione had been going over her notes regarding tomorrow's classes. She abandoned them to sit down next to him. "Hey."

"This is real." He said the words quietly, as though afraid to jinx it. "I taught in a classroom today. I'm going to sleep in a bed tonight. Next to you."

Hermione leaned in to kiss him. It was meant -- like all their other kisses had been meant until now -- as comfort, as friendship, as a grounding point. It might have stayed that way if Remus hadn't placed his hand firmly on her lower back. There wasn't an immediate flood of passion in response to the gesture, but Hermione stayed with the kiss, let it lead places that it hadn't before, let it become playful, caring, and just a little bit aggressive.

She hadn't even noticed Remus' hands playing at the buttons of her top, inch by inch stealing it away from her skin, but she noticed when he pulled back and, catching a glimpse of her, breathed, "Holy- Min."

Hermione crossed her hands over her breasts in a futile gesture. Remus peeled them carefully away. "It's okay, it's fine. I just wasn't expecting it."

"I forgot," Hermione admitted. It was the first time in nearly three years that the statement was true.

"Why did you…what are they about?"

Hermione, who had spent every day since she'd burnt the first fire-tattoo into her flesh hiding them for fear that someone would ask, forced the word, "Pain," past her lips.

Remus' eyes reflected more empathy than Hermione wanted. "Pain?"

"When I…this one was first," Hermione traced the jagged lightening bolt dissecting its way between her breasts. "I picked it up right after, to have something of him in me, on me, near me. And it hurt. I screamed, a lot. But it." Hermione stopped, stared at her hand.

"Distracted you from things that were worse?"

"Almost entirely."

"So you got another one."

"And another, and another, and another," Hermione added.

"How many, total?"

"Eleven to date."

"That why you keep yourself so covered all the time?"

Hermione clenched her fists. "I've melded my issues into my skin. Doesn't mean I want everybody to see it."

Remus's breathing became sharp. "Will you let me?"

Hermione hesitated. Remus tipped the scales, "I only want you more than I did before I saw them. It's like I said, this is real. You're real."

So Hermione traced the line of devil's snare growing over the tips of her shoulders and explained how she had saved the boys from a nasty patch of it once. She lay back so that Remus could peruse the werewolf baying at the moon gracing her left rib, and bared her throat to display the full glory of the phoenix resting in its hollow and spanning out across her upper chest. She inched her bottoms off in order for him to see the entirety of the snake coiled twice around her abdomen and lower back, its head resting comfortably upon her right hipbone. She spread her legs slightly to reveal the fancy chess knight on her inner left thigh and to give the full effect of the Thestral wrapped around the entirety of her upper right leg. She rolled over displaying the tattoo of Morgause standing in between her shoulder blades and flowing down her back. Above Morgause, at the very base of Hermione's neck, lay raido, the rune representative of journeys, earthly and otherwise. She held out her arm so that he could look at the Porlock, locked in its defensive stance, standing on her bicep. Finally, she sat up and held her right wrist out to him, showing the letters Z-E-V fire carved on the underside, right were Zev's and his contained a not-so-random assortment of numbers. "That's the most recent one. I picked it up while trying to pass WERE."

Remus held the wrist in both his hands. "I would have gone with you, if you'd wanted."

"There are some things-"

"I know, but I thought it needed to be offered."

Hermione nodded. "Do you mind if we don't- I just wanna snog until we fall asleep in the act. Is that-"

Remus saw to it that she got what she wanted.

*

She had to ask around to find Zev, which was worrying in the first place. Finding him curled up in the pantry was near to heart-attack inducing. She put on her best unphased act, crawled inside the pantry with him and asked, "Whatcha doing in here?"

Zev pouted. "Yeah, like you care."

Hermione would have laughed if he hadn't seemed so convinced that he was right. "What exactly could you possibly mean by that?"

"Go away. Go do stuff with all the other kids. They need their teacher." He spat the last word.

"I don’t want to be with the other kids, I want to be with you."

"That's a first." Zev kicked her leg. "Go away!"

Hermione reached out in the small space and bodily pulled Zev to her. She held on while he squirmed and screeched and generally did his best to get her to let go. Hermione was exhausted when he calmed down. Finally, though, he gave into the fact that he wasn't going anywhere and went limp. Hermione just squeezed him tighter. "Zev. Some of those kids have been here less than a week. They're nervous and confused. A lot of them were kept by parents who did things to them like yours did, or worse. They're not ready to accept that we're not going to lock them up, or hurt them or make fun of them. So yes, they do need me. I need to be there for them. But they're my students, and you're my son. I adopted you so that I could say that. There's never going to be a time that if you tell me you need me, I'm going to choose them over you."

Zev grunted. "You haven't even helped me with my homework at all this week. Or tucked me in. You treat me like one of them."

Hermione pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I don't want the kids to tease you, baby. If you want me to come and tuck you in, you got it, okay? And you know you can always come up to my room and ask me for help when you need it. I can’t read your mind, though. I'm not even any good at Legilimancy. Professor Snape is."

Harry had been. Once he'd applied himself. Hermione swallowed the thought whole, pushing it away for later.

"What's Legi- Ligilili- that thing that you said?"

"Legilimancy. It's a type of magic that allows one wizard's thought to be revealed to another."

Zev perked right up. "That's neat! Are there books on it?"

Hermione giggled. "Yeah, I bet the professor has some. I can ask him the next time we talk."

"Ask him to come to dinner, too. I want to tell him all about Professor Jigger. She's so cool. She let my class help her brew a Softening Serum, even though we're too young for wands. She has a really large collection of rare ingredients, you should see it. I could show you," he offered, just a bit shyly.

"I'd like that," Hermione agreed, even though she'd already spent several hours in Hydrea's classroom helping with lesson plans and briefing her on necessary werewolf information.

"So you'll invite him?"

"Invite who? Oh, Professor Snape. Yes, I will." Already she was planning how exactly to convince him that eating in a hall full of werewolves was a good idea for him.

"And you'll help me with my history homework?"

"What era are you guys studying?"

"Post-Merlin."

Hermione felt some of the tension of the last few weeks slip from her frame. "That's one of my favorites."

*

The first full with everyone at the school was a mirage of exhaustion and pandemonium. The staff made sure that all the children got Wolfsbane before they did and then were extra careful to take the required dosage themselves.

Hydrea and Hermione spent all three nights in their non-human forms and all three post-change days in their own skin, making sure that everyone was fed and watered and kept as comfortable as possible.

On the fourth day, students arrived at the Potions labs, none the worse for the wear, to a sign: "Potions cancelled until Professor Jigger can see straight again. Report to Great Hall for study period."

Hermione, for her part, made it through the day, if just barely. She spent the following two explaining why, exactly, she had confused a common Ashwinder(1) with the more rare Fire Elf and re-teaching the entire lesson.

Four days after, the weekend mercifully hit and Hermione collapsed into her bed at seven Friday night, not to wake again until nearly noon on Saturday. Remus came up with a tray a little after she had finally opened her eyes. "Hey, you're with us."

Hermione offered her opinion, "I don't think I did this quite right."

"It was your first time," Remus soothed. "Lunch?"

Hermione was hardly above temptation. "What'd you bring me?"

"'Rissa made that saffron pumpkin soup she does."

Hermione's stomach gurgled in appreciative anticipation. "'Rissa? Been flirting up our cook?"

Remus spared Hermione a roguish grin. Marissa was old enough to be his great-grandmother. "She isn't someone I'd want pissed off at me."

Hermione took a spoonful of soup. "Mm. Good point."

While she ate, Remus told her about the Quidditch game that the staff had put on for the student's benefit the night before. He whispered, "I took Zev up afterward."

Hermione thought she should probably scold him. "Did he like it?"

"Loved it, didn't want to come down." The look in Remus' eyes suggested he had been less than fond of that part of the evening as well.

She settled for a stern, "You better hope he doesn’t say anything to the other kids, Remus J. Lupin, or you'll be up there all day and night. Then you'll know how I felt this week."

Remus took the finished bowl of soup from her and set it on the nightstand. "We have to figure out a better system for that. You and Hydrea need sleep as much as any of the rest of us during that time."

Hermione amended, "Well, maybe not quite as much. But it is needed, yes."

"Maybe if you guys switched off-"

"There's too many of you. Even with two of us, it was overwhelming."

Remus's brow creased. Hermione lay her hand over his, "Hey, it'll get sorted. Honestly, after all of this, it's a joy to have to worry about something like that."

"You still look tired."

"A bit," Hermione admitted. He started as though to leave and she clamped her fingers around his wrist. "Stay with me. Just a bit."

Remus was the type of man who paid his debts, so he didn't argue, just waited for her to get settled and laid down beside her, wrapping himself over her. "Min?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll be here when you wake up."

*

He wasn't there when she woke up. What little light was peeking through the drawn curtains indicated that it was getting well on into the afternoon. Hermione pushed the covers back from herself and sat up.

Inch by inch, she made her way to the bathroom, where she was brushing her teeth when Remus came back. "I left for ten minutes, and those had to be the ten you woke up in."

Hermione smiled around the toothbrush. She leaned over the sink to rinse and spit. "Ah the excuses of an inconstant man."

Remus leaned up against the sink corner. "Sleep well?"

"You positive you didn't dose the food?"

"I'm pretty sure for my part, but 'Rissa's a different situation." Remus tucked a damp curl behind Hermione's ear.

She made a face, "I'm all sweaty and sleep-crusty."

"Sleep-crusty?" Remus pulled her in between his legs. "Lemme see." He bit lightly at her lower lip, letting go and sucking on it, waiting for her small pant of pleasure to actually kiss her. The peppermint of her toothpaste interacted to create a slightly bitter taste with the small tinge of sweetness -- honey? -- on Remus's tongue. Neither of them stopped.

Without pulling back, Remus moved one hand from her back to her knees and picked her up, making his way slowly to the bed. He sat on its edge when he got there, still cradling her in his lap. Only then did he break the kiss, mouthing his way over her chin, down her throat, into the hollow, where the phoenix head perched. He outlined what he could reach of the tattoo with his tongue. It wasn't much. "Min-"

"Whatever."

He lay her back on the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge, and pushed her top over her head and arms, throwing it aside. Tugging her slightly further up the bed, he straddled her and went back to redrawing the phoenix with his mouth. His hands cupped over one breast each, gently caressing at first, pinching the nipples when he moved his mouth to the lightening bolt.

"Fuck," Hermione breathed. "All right."

She allowed him to travel further, his tongue meeting the outstretched one on the snake, before gathering all her resources and rolling over on to him. "Stay."

As Remus didn’t seem inclined to disagree, Hermione deftly stripped him of his robes and the shorts underneath. There was a time for seduction in undress, but Hermione hadn't touched another human with the intent to get good and properly laid in over three years; this wasn't it. With none of the eager patience Remus had shown, Hermione bent down to swallow his cock, gently massaging one ball in each hand.

Remus bucked. "Shit. Shit."

Hermione rode the wave of surprised reaction, humming with self-satisfaction. Which only made Remus draw upon his evidently extensive collection of swear words. Right when his breathing got a little more frantic, his body a little more still, she drew back.

"Min," he threatened.

"Relax."

Hermione stretched out over him, grabbing her wand from beneath her pillow. She cast a few necessary Charms as she wiggled out of her pajama bottoms. Setting aside her wand, she lifted herself up and sank down onto Remus's cock without a word of warning.

Remus spit out broken, garbled phrases that Hermione imagined were really quite dirty when enunciated. She responded with a pleased, "Mm," and rode him. Remus' hands wrapped around her hips, one caressing the head of the snake, the other moving to make runs up her spine and back down to the hip. At the top of one run he exerted pressure to the crown of Morgause's head, bringing Hermione's mouth down to his.

The hand that wasn't keeping her mouth where he wanted it snuck in between the two of them, over her clitoris. He rubbed while she rocked, losing his mind to the shock of orgasm only a few minutes before she arched back and made tiny, lovely mewling sounds.

She collapsed onto him in the aftermath.

He managed to form the words, "Still crusty?"

"Ugh. Gonna be if I don't move."

"Romantic."

"You want romantic, Louise Murmin has a crush on you. I'll bet she'd spout poetry after every rousing love-making session."

"Louise is seventeen."

"Yeah, well, it's not like there isn't cradle-robbing going on anyway here."

Remus smacked her lightly. "That wasn't what I meant, although, ew. I just meant, seventeen year old girls do things like that."

"I didn't."

"You," he said pointedly, "were never seventeen."

"Remus?"

"Yes?"

Hermione tried to say something. Tried to say it had been good for her, which it had been, or to ask him not to leave, or to tell him she was going to take a shower. When it became evident that her vocal abilities had ceased to function within a two second time span, Remus kissed her forehead, "You were brilliant."

She remembered being good at this, so it wasn't exactly surprising, but still, nice to know some things hadn't changed. "Thanks."

She was glad he seemed to catch on to the larger implications of the word.

*

It took three owls and an undue amount of rhetoric, not to mention the invocation of Zev, to force a visit out of Snape. Hermione was willing to lay money on the fact that her capitulation, "We won't eat in the Hall," had been the point of reluctant agreement for him.

Marissa agreed to let her take over a corner of the kitchens for the dinner. It was tiny, but she could fit herself, Zev, Remus and Snape into them. When Hydrea heard about the visit she hinted, "Have room for one more?"

There wasn't, really, but Hermione just nodded, "We'll squeeze you in somewhere."

She was glad for the decision later, when Snape allowed a rare expression of pleasure to settle on his features upon seeing her. His curt, "Miss Jigger," was greeted with an exasperated snort, "Hello, Severus." After that, nobody interrupted as Zev spent most of the meal talking about all the things his class had been helping Hydrea brew and asking questions that came to him as he was recounting. Hermione wondered if he would have even stopped to listen to the answers if it hadn't been Snape.

Granted, Snape was only semi-forbidding with Zev, as opposed to acting the part of full blown bastard. Still, even toned down, he didn't come off as someone Hermione would want to interrupt, given the choice. She was glad she had the advantage of no longer being ten years old.

When dinner was finished, and Hermione had sent Zev to his dorm, allowing three rounds of "Ten more minutes, Min, pleeeeease," Hydrea begged off with excuses of papers to grade. Remus brushed by Hermione, "Mind if I start an early dorm check?"

Hermione made a face. "How'd you get stuck with that?"

"Emmett's been looking like cold walking death with all the additions he's making to the wards. I told him I'd handle inside security for a couple of nights so he could get some rest." Remus's tone revealed that he might be regretting the promise.

"You're sweet," Hermione infused the words with the suggestion of what such sweetness was probably going to garner him later.

"Yeah, all right." He slunk out of the kitchen, off to deal with rambunctious teenagers and tired children.

Hermione turned to where Severus had reseated himself at the table after helping clean up. She sank into the seat across from him. "Thank you for coming."

"You would've owled repeatedly until I capitulated."

"Doesn't mean I don't appreciate an easy victory."

Snape huffed. "How is Miss Jigger working out?"

"Brilliantly, but then, I have no doubt she's told you that herself."

"It was conceivable that her assessment of the situation was different than yours."

Hermione offered, "Thank you for her."

It calmed him. "It's fortunate for everyone that it worked out."

"Indeed." Hermione put her elbows on the table, locking her fingers together. The sleeves of her robes slid down her arm. No longer covered by the long sleeved undershirts she had worn since the war, fire-tinged ink spilled to the outside of her wrists. She had stopped wearing the shirts the same day she had gotten the latest tattoo, the one peeking out from the inside of her left wrist. Two days after Remus had woken her up with his tongue in her vagina and kept waking her up until she was practically off the bed, not breathing. After he had held her and repeated, "You're brilliant."

Which was just different enough from, "you were brilliant." Just different enough to grit her teeth and let her tattoo artist brand the letters R-E-M-U-S across from the ones Z-E-V on the opposite wrist. Just different enough not to enjoy the too harsh heat of the sensation.

Snape noted the ink, she could see the brief flicker of his eyes to the spot where it betrayed itself. He didn't ask. "Zev is acclimating?"

Breath poured out of her. "Well, as much as is to be expected. Almost none of them are used to being around other people, being allowed to interact with other people, all those things that we take for granted. But, nobody's killed anyone yet, so I like to think things are working out."

Snape smirked. "Gryffindor."

"Yeah," Hermione admitted. "We all have our dirty secrets."

Snape shot back, "Some of us more than others," but it wasn't cold, just aware.

"Pot," she accused.

"Kettle," he returned.

"Having any luck with the Wolfsbane trials?"

She listened to him talk about love in completely different terms than she was accustomed to. She asked questions and made suggestions, some of which he actually laughed at, and didn't mind. When he ran out of things to say and stood, she invited, "Don't stay away."

*

Hermione gave in a week before the third full moon of the semester was due and called in reinforcements. Ginny, Charlie, Nymph, Nora, Zach, Millicent, Dean, Oliver, Katie, Terry and Luna all agreed to help without pause, working a schedule out between them so that the minimal amount of work would be missed by everyone involved. On the fourth night, Ginny invited her out to the pub with all of them, "First monthly WAC celebration."

"Wack?" Hermione inquired.

Nymph grimaced. "Werewolf Aid Corps. Talk to Luna, she thought it up."

"No need to, that explains things." Hermione turned away from the doorway where Ginny and Nymph were waiting for her answer. "Babe?"

Remus sauntered out of the bathroom, one hand still towel-drying his hair. "Hullo girls."

"Hullo," came the unison answer.

"Need something?" He pointed the question at Hermione.

"I got invited to go out. You wouldn't mind…" She stopped at the odd expression on Remus's face. "What?"

"Gin, Nymph, can you give us a minute?"

Ginny pulled Nymph back and shut the bedroom door. Remus started, "Min, when was the last time you went out?"

"Last week."

"Not for a supply run."

Hermione was still thinking about it when Remus charged, "That's what I thought."

"It's not like I don't have everything I want here," Hermione protested. "You and Zev. A whole community."

Remus kissed her for that. "If Zev and I could leave this place, wouldn't you want us to?"

"Obviously. I mean, there are things I'd wanna show Zev, places I'd wanna go with you. That's why I did this, in the hopes that eventually all of you can live your lives the way everybody else is completely free to, c'mon, you know all this."

"I'm not saying this to be mean, but you're not one of us. You can go out. And I'm not such a jealous bitch that I'd deny you that because I can't. Honestly, go see your other friends, I bet they miss you. Dean looked like it was his birthday all over again when you gave him that hug the first morning he got here."

Hermione winced. "All right, I get it, you want me to go. I just wish you could go with me, that's all."

Remus's, "Give everyone a hello for me, yeah?" was a bit subdued.

Hermione closed in for a hug, tucking her head beneath his chin. "Of course."

"You should have a lover who can do more than get you off."

"Say another word and I'm stepping on your toes."

"You can't tell me you never want to go on dates."

"It's not like Harry and Ron could take me out on dates either, always the risk of too much publicity. I've been missing it for this long, it can't possibly be that essential to a relationship."

Remus held her slightly back from him. "I think that might be a case of can’t-miss-what-you-don’t-know more than anything else. It doesn't really change my opinion on the matter."

Silently agreeing but unwilling to give him the leverage, Hermione asked, "Want me to bring back a pint from Fortescue's? We can get fat together. Almost as good as dating."

"Toffee banana?" Remus requested.

"Willing to compromise on a banana marshmallow?" Hermione negotiated.

"Anything for you."

The words should have been light, playful, but Hermione practically shivered at their impact. "Banana marshmallow it is. I'll be back around one."

"I'm not waiting up."

Hermione didn't believe him for a second.

*

Hermione woke with a headache and the intense urge to cry. She stood under scalding water for twenty minutes straight instead, emerging to find a dressed and curious Remus brushing his teeth.

She joined him, allowing the peppermint scent of her toothpaste to drive away any vestiges of pain that the water hadn't managed to reach.

Remus rinsed his mouth. "Thought you said you didn't drink."

"Didn't." Hermione wanted to leave it at that.

Remus evidently wasn't up to playing fair though, as he didn't try and get any more information from her, just went about brushing his hair in a manner that suggested Hermione could be like all the other people who distrusted him or not, it was her decision. She picked up her own hairbrush, working violently through the snags until Remus stopped her, taking the brush out of her hands and working it carefully through each curl. The progress she had made on not wanting to cry was completely obliterated.

"Nightmare," she managed to squeak out, right before her entire face turned into a flood plain.

Remus continued brushing her hair, down to the last gnarled strand. "Ponytail?"

Hermione hiccupped in between sobs. "Yeah."

He swept one of the hair ties that she left laying everywhere off the edge of the sink and set to pulling her hair back, one stroke of the brush at a time. The process took a long time, as hair fell repeatedly out of his unpracticed hands and he struggled to calm the bumps that unruly curls caused atop her head. Finally, though, he stood back, surveying his work, his eyes rising to meet hers in the mirror.

When she had drawn a deep breath and let go of it without collapsing back into hysterics, Hermione offered a somewhat gravelly, "Thanks."

"Was it about Zev?" Remus knew about Hermione's fairly regular nightmares regarding Zev being taken away, or the school being disbanded and its inhabitants left without recourse.

Hermione shook her head slowly. "I'm not sure you want to hear this any more than I want to talk about it."

"Ron and Harry, then," Remus supplied sharply.

"It's always a dream at first," she told him, "because they're still alive. They're playing chess, or Quidditch, or eating chocolate frogs, something harmless, right?"

She sighed. "Then I get there, and I'm bloody well excited to see them. I always know, I know what I did in the dream, I know they should be dead. I run up and I go to kiss Ron, or Harry, whichever first, and they won't let me get near them. Ron backs up every time I take a step forward and just laughs when I can never reach him. Harry…Harry calls me things, names. Stuff we used to call Death Eaters, Malfoy, people who were our enemy. Traitorous little bitch, Dark whore, those are some of the nicer ones. And I'm trying to explain, I'm trying to get them to understand, I just did what I thought I had to do, but neither one is listening and eventually they stop paying attention to me altogether, just turning back in on themselves, on their game, whatever, and pretending I'm not there. I scream and plead and even physically assault them, but nothing. That's generally when I wake up."

"I see Sirius, locked in Azkaban for twelve years partly on my word of conviction in my nightmares a lot." Remus was slow to choose each word. "I see him accuse me of not being good enough to protect him or Jamie's son."

"Nothing could have protected Harry. If there had been something-"

"You would've made sure he was privy. I know, that's my point. It's not Harry saying those things, or Ron. It's you, it's the part of you that can't accept what you consciously know is true."

"I miss them. All of them, but mostly Ron and Harry. Sometimes I feel like I lost seven years of my life when they died. Like I killed seven years of my life."

"I know."

Hermione wanted to negate his understanding, the way she had been able to with nearly anyone else who had ever given it to her, but those two words weren't sentiments of placation from him. They were basic recognition of common suffering. "My hair looks nice. Better than when I do it."

Remus massaged her neck gently with one hand. "I think I was probably trying harder."

"Probably."

"All right?" He murmured.

"Better, thanks." She stood, leaning over the sink to splash a bit of water on her face. When she straightened up, he was there, a towel ready in his hand.

*

"Halloween had me thinking, if we made it some sort of event then nobody would notice if every last one of you suddenly stopped taking the Wolfsbane and was released upon the populace to have your wild ways."

"Yeah," Ruel agreed, "that could work."

"All right, then," Hermione stood up to leave. "I'll get right on that."

"Wait," Ruel blinked up at her, "what?"

"Oh, you're admitting that you've been paying more attention to your navel than me for the last twenty minutes?"

Ruel grimaced. "Sorry. You wanted a field trip, I was with you that far."

"Correct. Not all of us at once, I don't think anyone's gonna go for that. Maybe in fourths, that's a slightly less than twenty kids at a time, with perhaps one adult for every two kids. Plus, I thought if we did it at a holiday, maybe if we began lobbying now for Christmas of next year, perhaps, people might be feeling a little bit more 'in the spirit' of it all."

"Fair enough, but where would we go?"

"That, my friend, is the beauty of the fourths idea. Each group can go to a different place. Thereby, none of the places have to deal with all of us and varying interests can be represented."

Ruel pursed his lips, "For instance, one group could go to a Quidditch match, maybe in the minors, less audience and Steven still has contacts, then another could go to an art museum?"

"I've heard good things about the wizarding one outside York, and not as many people get up there as the one near Diagon. Anyway," Hermione waved a hand, "details later, you get the idea."

"It is a good place to start, getting them out a little at a time. I'm going to suggest we appeal to the Subsection for Maintaining Standards in Wizarding Education. Overwhelmingly they’re kind of crusty down there, but there's been a movement by a few of the newer employees to revolutionize the entire wizard schooling system. They might be willing to listen to us."

"Want me to do the initial contacting?"

Ruel rolled his eyes. "No, I'll go in, fangs bared. Yes, I want you to handle first shout."

"Don't roll your eyes at me, you were agreeing to allowing all the students to go on a feeding frenzy at the beginning of this meeting."

"My mind was on other things."

"Oddly enough, I noticed. Mind if I ask what things?" Hermione inquired lightly, leaving it well open for him to refuse.

Ruel hesitated. "Might as well tell you, the chit will if I don't."

"Chit?"

"Professor Jigger."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Since when do you have permission to call her a chit?"

"Since she asked me to take dinner with her in the kitchens."

After the private dinner with Snape, Redda and Kieran had taken a meal in the same kitchen corner. Following that, said corner had turned into the hot spot for anyone who wanted to have a private -- read, romantic -- meal. "I thought Hydrea was chatting up Emile."

Emile, the shy, kind Herbology professor of a boy had immediately caught the eye of several of the female faculty and not a few of the older female students. Hydrea had wasted no time in snatching him up.

"She was. Evidently, he's too introverted for her, so she says."

Hermione bit her lip so as not to laugh. Hydrea could be a bit intimidating at times. "Are you going to say yes?"

"Say yes?"

"Dinner, in the kitchens, ring any bells?" Hermione prompted.

"Oh. I don't know. It seems a bit reckless, to date when there's no chance of leaving if it doesn't work out."

"We agreed to do away with staff-fraternization prohibitions because this was to be a community first, school second," Hermione reminded him.

"No," Ruel corrected, "you agreed to do away with it on those grounds. The rest of us just couldn't bear to see Steven, Gerard and Verona pretend they exist without each other."

"Doesn't change the fact of agreement."

"She's not one of us."

Ruel's words came so quickly, and were so out of place, that it took Hermione a moment to understand them. "Neither am I."

"And nobody's willing to say it but we all think Remus a perfect arse for shagging you."

Hermione consciously kept herself from drawing back. "Because I've obviously shown you all time and again that I'll up and leave the moment things get rough. What with the way I learned a new discipline to be able to stay with even non-medicated werewolves during the change and spent nearly two years of my life drafting and lobbying for legislation to alleviate werewolf living conditions."

"Actually," Ruel bit each syllable out, "we think that because it limits you. You can't go beyond the kitchens with him, if you want to marry him, they'll make you take on his number as a sign of your responsibility toward him as a pet. You would be forced to take on the consequences of any actions on his part, along with him. We find that spectacularly unfair to you."

"Ruel." Hermione drew back the sleeves on her robes, far enough to display the markings on her inner wrists. "Legal or no, I'm already bound in responsibility to both of them. Believe me, Remus has all the same concerns the rest of you have, I just refuse to allow them to matter. I…what we have is stronger than other people's hate. I refuse to let it be any other way."

"I can't say the same about Professor Jigger."

The slight shadow in Ruel's eyes made Hermione quip, "Not now, you can't."

"It's hardly my right to initiate something that could lead-"

"You didn't initiate it. What's hardly your right is to 'protect' Hydrea from dangers that she knows about and is obviously willing to face. Honestly, chauvinistic chivalry is a bit outdated, don't you think?"

"I take it you want me to say yes."

"Say yes and bring flowers to the table. Half of the attraction to Emile was the flowers, she enjoys colors."

"You just said chivalry was outdated."

"Chivalry," Hermione stressed, "not courtly behavior."

Ruel snorted. "Semantics."

*

In place of the once regular but no longer needed Transfigurations tutorials, Minerva and Hermione had worked out a schedule of tea-time planning meetings wherein they put together lessons, ate shortbread and caught up on each other's lives. It wasn't terribly unusual for one of them to be forced to cancel last minute, so the hours only happened about once every two weeks, as opposed to the twice a week generally counted upon.

Hermione was warming her hands on her teacup and musing on the interest that some of her seventh-years had shown in the biomechanics of werewolf transfiguration when Minerva interrupted her thoughts. "It's been a mess here."

Hermione made a noise to indicate she was listening. Minerva explained, "The Ministry is making changes to the OWL/NEWT curriculum, and while I actually believe what they're doing is for the eventual best, it's wreaking havoc on my school. It's not like staff is easy to find these days, what with half a generation practically gone, and those who remain of the long-time faculty are all straining at the bit to leave. Sinistra's been offered a cushy little job at an Irish University, and Vector wants to retire and bury herself in theoretical research. With so many jobs having been vacated there's opportunities aplenty and nobody wants to return to their alma mater and take on the rather thankless job of pounding information into hapless children's minds."

"Have you looked abroad? Last I checked Beauxbatons was turning out quite the cadre of astrologers. Arithmancy might be harder, although I heard that admissions at the University level were picking up in that field. Seems Algernon Gorey's latest read on it has perked some interest." Gorey had published a history of arithmancy that was meant to be understood at a popular level, something the subject had never yet seen. Hermione chanced, "On the upside, Potions is a wretch to get anyone to teach and Snape hasn't expressed any intent on walking out on you, I should think."

Minerva's smile was anything but happy, "No. I sometimes fear Severus will follow the way of Binns. I should force him out, but I'm terribly selfish."

"What, has he become more of a terror?" Hermione found this hard to believe.

"To the contrary, he's been quite mild these past few years. Down to three students in tears a week, he's practically a paragon of teaching."

Hermione smirked. "Then why force him out, if this is where he wishes to stay?"

Minerva pressed her fingers together in steeple formation. "Why did you leave Hogwarts when the war was over, despite our best attempts to keep you where you were safe and cared for?"

Hermione swallowed a gasp. "Minerva, it wasn't- I just couldn't be here right then. It was like eating too much at every meal, only in an emotional sense."

"It was for all of us, that was why we let you go. It was why Filius retired and Argus finally made good on his threats to disappear into the Muggle world. As soon as was possible I went away for several months, went to visit old friends, see things I had always told myself I would. Sinistra left around the same time and Vector was gone before either of us and back after both. Severus, though, Severus never left."

"He." Hermione flinched. "Never?"

"The farthest he went was London," Minerva confirmed, "and then only for supplies or to attend the trials."

Hermione made several aborted attempts to speak before Minerva rescued her. "Everybody assumes that Severus's only loss was Albus, and that he was able to coldly ignore that loss. But Severus lost students just as we all lost students. Graham and Adrian, obviously, but also Stewart Ackerly, who had worked closely with Severus in potion development from the time he showed talent for it in his first year. And losing Harry…he has not taken what he sees as a failure to pay a life debt easily."

"That's ridiculous! Hate him as I may have for it, Snape saved Harry's life more times than I could count. Does he think the debt obligated him to ensure Harry's immortality?"

"Most likely," the words were fond. "He is impossible."

"You would miss him if he left, that was what you meant by saying you're being selfish."

"Quite." The word was imbued with sadness.

"Perhaps if you were to convince him to get away for a bit," Hermione suggested. "It worked for you."

"As though I haven't tried. You're welcome to, however. The infuriating git sometimes listens to you."

Hermione practically spit her tea through her nose. "Right."

Minerva didn't say anything. She stared at her ex-pupil in a way that always reminded Hermione of Dumbledore at his most omniscient. When she spoke up again it was to say, "You're thinking of introducing a physiological aspect into Care of Magical Creatures?"

Hermione took the distraction and ran with it.

*

Hermione's full-well intention to do Minerva the favor of at least approaching Snape about a sabbatical was derailed by the near chaos that erupted from two events in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

The first was the only arrival of a new student since the start of term. Eight year old Kassie Knoll was bitten outside the forests of her hometown on the third night of the full-moon that rose in mid-November. She survived the attack solely due to her older brother's arriving on the scene upon hearing her shouts and performing an Avada Kedavra on the figure that had already eclipsed his younger sister.

The dead werewolf, Morrell Childers, had been -- as Hermione could only assume others were -- hiding from wizarding authorities, hoping to live out his life away from everyone, unwilling to be told where to go. She found this information by defying the wishes of the Knoll family and seeking out Childers's family. His family hadn't seen him in most of the years since his being bitten, but were aware of his philosophy toward the Ministry's actions regarding werewolves. Hermione was relieved to find them willing to give him space in the family's burial plot, as fighting to get him interred in one of the public cemeteries had not been something to which she looked forward.

In pursuing decent treatment for Childers's, Hermione had nearly missed the ruckus being created by the Knoll family, who wanted Kassie back for holidays and summers. Hearing of the Knoll case, four other families came to the front, families that had regularly visited and sent letters, demanding they be granted the same rights as the Knolls.

Once aware of the fact, Hermione divided up her time between working out logistics with Ruel, speaking with Charlie about what he thought was viable, and devoting more energy than before to making the kids whose families so blatantly didn't want them feel loved. Several nights, Hermione startled awake to the feel of Zev climbing between her and Remus. She wrapped an arm around him, and stayed awake until she felt him fall into sleep again.

The main issue with the Knolls, Briens, Rosares, Dunstens, and Ferrers taking their children for Christmas and other breaks in the school year was far from any objection on the part of the school's staff. It was the concessions Hermione had made on the part of actual legislation in WERE in the pursuit of getting the Enactment passed. In the spirit of compromise, Hermione had allowed that once werewolves came to the school to break the Oath Magic binding them there was to sign their own warrant of exile. So while any of the adults could choose to leave at any time, the choice came part and parcel with leaving England. There wasn't a werewolf alive who wasn't aware of the fact that though the British Ministry's policies toward werewolves might be incrementally harsher than other nations, given the unease with Dark Creatures left in Voldemort's wake, no other nation was particularly jumping to naturalize werewolves into their society. The school was, for all intents and purposes, their best bet.

Children, on the other hand, weren't allowed quite so much "agency," as Hermione had taken to thinking of it. Once admitted to the school, their Oath must be renewed every six months without fail, allowing them no more than a day away from the grounds without feeling the residual tug of the Oath. Left to tug long enough, the Oath would deplete the child of his magic, leaving him a squib at best, dead at worst. Two weeks for Christmas was risky. Three months for the summer was unthinkable.

Hermione, who did her best to ignore the Prophet whenever given a chance, couldn’t help feeling torn over the headline that Kieran shoved under her nose, "Werewolf Lover Revealed to be Child Jailer!" On the one hand, it wasn't doing her reputation any favors. On the other, the article played the students up as children rather than cubs. Hermione was smart enough to recognize progress when she saw it.

Still, on the second week when Hermione was working all hours of the night with Charlie and Ruel to get an amendment to WERE drafted while still teaching classes and receiving Howlers nearly every morning at breakfast, she was willing to admit that a little positive press couldn't hurt. Which made the fact that Snape showed up with a small batch of Wolfsbane, just enough for one, and the offer, "I thought you could use some good news," of more significance than perhaps it should have been.

Hermione gave the test batch to Remus. She would have chosen Zev, but the fact that something could go wrong was exactly what made it a test, and Remus had more of a sense of what the consequences of things going wrong could be, more of an ability to make the choice to take it without blinders. Remus owled Snape a thanks for both of them, sharing Snape's terse, "It hasn't worked yet. You're welcome," with Hermione.

Successful improvements or no, Snape had brushed the hair out of her eyes after leaving it on the table next to her, commented, "Sleep aids the mind. Diminishing returns, Miss Granger," and swept out of the room. It shouldn’t have reminded her of Ron's shrill, "Do you ever bloody well sleep?" or the way he used to push her into bed and not let her get up until at least six hours of sound unconsciousness had passed. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Hermione wrote herself a note in the flap of her teacher's notebook: "Snape. Tropics. Discuss."

With one week to go before Christmas and two days to the full, Charlie's request that his department be able to process and handle all amendments to WERE was granted, and a concession went in that if a child's family wished to see that child out of term, one parent could be bound into the Oath, with the child as anchor, thereby allowing the child to travel in between a family home and the school while in the company of that parent. Should the parent ever leave the child for too long when away from the school, the results would be the same as though the Oath had never been diversified. It wasn't ideal. The changing of the Oath Magic meant several more sleepless nights spent in brainstorming sessions with Nymph, Ginny, Emmett, Kieran and Acacia Lewan, the school's Charms professor.

Grey Brien jumped into his father's arms when the man came to pick him up. Fifteen year-old, too-cool-for-much-of-anything Grey. Hermione hid a smile and scurried away for a power nap.

*

Hermione refused to leave Zev and Remus for Christmas, so Ginny, Nymph, Charlie and Nora (the two of them had begun dating after a couple of months of WAC duty) came to her. Minerva had duties at the school, where Kingsley was joining her. Millicent was spending the holiday with the significant portion of Zach's surviving family. Dean had been invited to the home of one of the Muggle-borns he had so diligently kept safe.

Ginny and Redda ganged up together, festooning the halls with poinsettas, small evergreens and, of course, mistletoe. Nymph cajoled Marissa into brewing large quantities of eggnog, both child-friendly and adult appropriate. Charlie went around singing Romanian Christmas carols in a loud, steady baritone.

By the time Christmas supper rolled around the adults of the school were well into recalling how it felt to have a holiday with other people around and things to celebrate, and those children who had never really known that feeling were catching on. Remus and Hermione sat on either side of Zev for the meal, regular seating having been suspended for the occasion. Zev's closest friend, Abel, was sitting across from them, sandwiched between Ginny, Nymph, Charlie and Nora.

Charlie was re-telling the story about the Christmas Molly had given him a statuette of a Hebridean Black(10) and how this had started him on his path of reckless disregard for his own life and an unnatural love for dragons, when Zev piped up, "Professor!"

Zev was generally held spellbound by Charlie as a phenomenon, so Hermione quickly realized that he wasn't calling out to just any of the school's teachers. She followed Zev's line of sight to see that Snape was stopped at Hydrea's table, evidently giving his best to her and Ruel. Though he hadn't looked up at Zev's excited yell, it wasn't long before he broke off talking to Hydrea, heading over to Hermione's table.

Snape nodded politely when he arrived, "Mister Granger." He addressed his, "Would there be a place for one more?" obliquely to Hermione and Remus. Hermione moved over to allow him a spot next to Zev. After all, she had been the one to invite him.

Granted, the invite had been a scribbled off note, delivered by owl, "Doing Christmas here, join us?" with ulterior motives and his response had been equally terse, "Not much for holidays," but an invite was an invite.

Snape greeted the Weasleys, Nora and Nymph, allowed an introduction to take place between him and Abel, and then looked expectantly at Charlie, "I believe you were saying something, Mr. Weasley."

Charlie loved telling stories. He never forgot where he was, no matter what happened to interrupt the telling. He dove right back in at his stopping point. Hermione whispered to Snape, "I was of the belief you weren't coming."

"Sorry to disappoint," Snape pulled a roll from the basket in front of him and fished with his eyes for the butter.

"Don’t be an arse. I held off telling you the results of the potion to see if I could draw you in."

The small start as he reached for the butter plate told her it had worked. "Manipulative chit."

"I got you a present to make up for it."

"You could have just asked," Snape buttered his roll with smooth, practiced strokes.

"I did, you refused. That wasn't the answer I wanted."

Snape muttered something about persistence and "bloody smart freak occurrence Gryffindors." "Did it work?"

"Not enough to make you happy, but enough for us."

Snape didn't hurry his chewing, waiting until he had swallowed to demand, "And that means, precisely?"

"The pain was considerably lessened, but the displacement is standing at status quo."

Snape growled, "I suppose I'll change over to that formula then. For the time being, anyhow."

"You'll get it right," Hermione reassured him. "Remus thinks you're just missing inspiration."

"Potions," he corrected her stiffly, "is about trial and error, not flights of fancy and frivolous Eureka moments."

"I sat through your class," she reminded him. "1352, Thumbelina Twittlethorp falls into her own well without a wand, not to be rescued until nearly a week later. Within a month, she had invented the first Levitating Potion. 1769, Reginald Falstaff is eating his wife's rather awful cooking when he feels himself beginning to process thoughts more quickly. He realizes that the sugar in the crushed berries reacting with the heated iron of the skillet added into the magically created fire to cook the entire mix creates a Sharpening Spirit. Potions has its fair share of off the cuff or personally-motivated invention."

"That was never my area." He met her eyes as he said it and she could tell by the curve of his mouth that it was meant to be cutting, to send her into contrite silence.

"Just because you're afraid of letting it be. I'd imagine it was, once," Hermione was caught up enough in holiday cheer not to spell out just exactly when that once was.

"Perhaps that is a sign that my only creative impulse is one best left unexplored." The clink of his silverware against his plate as he transferred a side of meat onto it was shockingly loud.

"Creativity is channeled by you, not vice versa," Hermione argued.

"What are you trying to create?" Nymph chimed in, alerting them that others were now paying attention.

"A potion," Snape offered helpfully.

"You." Nymph made a face at him then competently steered the conversation one hundred and eighty degrees away from him.

*

Snape stayed until morning, stayed to step carefully around the mayhem of nearly eighty children ripping paper and popping box tops and squealing. Stayed to hand Hermione a box and rumble something that sounded close to, "Happy Christmas."

Hermione handed him a roll of parchment, shut with her most elegant seal. She leaned up to kiss his cheek, "You too."

The box was tied up neatly with what seemed yards of bow. Hermione slowly picked apart the bow, unhurried. With Zev, first thing that morning, she had practically torn apart her first present in reaction to the boy's sense of urgency, hugging him tightly and proclaiming her love for the bracelet he'd made her to all who came within shouting range. It really was quite lovely, Hermione suspected the aid of Ginny, who was brilliant with all things metal. Zev's card confided, "I was hoping you’d wear this on the wrist with my name. It would look pretty there."

Hermione doubted she'd ever remove it.

She'd watched Zev tear into his presents, the herbal from Snape, the peppermint creams from Remus, the chess set from Hermione. The chess set that Remus recognized, the chess set that Hermione's note explained was, "very important to someone I loved." She'd watched Zev reverently touch each piece before putting them back into the box they'd come out of, one by one.

"No jealousy," Hermione had chided, and handed her gift to Remus.

He opened it, peeling the paper back from the Firebolt, gleaming from the polish she had reapplied nights before. The card read, "From Sirius to Harry to you. I didn't think you would mind it not being top of the line anymore."

Remus kissed her in front of the whole school, causing children to shout, "Ew," and Ginny and Nymph to make cheering noises, and most of the staff to laugh.

Now, holding Snape's gift in her hands, she took her time untying and unwrapping. When the bow was lying at her feet, coiled and silky as the snake on her hips, she plucked the top of the box from its resting position. Inside lay a book, old by the look of it. Beautifully gilded with illustrations of four-legged creatures baying at the moon, it was entitled, "The Legends and Lore of Werewolves."

Hermione cajoled it out of the box and cradled it in her arms. "It's gorgeous."

"Muggle, the man I bought it from thought it was eighteenth century. His knowledge is generally to be trusted. It caught me as something you might be interested in." The last was relayed quietly, as though he was ashamed to admit to any type of awareness regarding her.

Hermione passed a hand over the raised lettering of the title. "I can't wait to read it."

Snape cracked the seal of the parchment resting in his hand. He unraveled the piece, reading silently for a few moments, his eyes swimming back and forth with the rhythm of Hermione's prose. "I can hardly accept this, you realize."

"You can hardly not accept it. Besides the sheer fact of it being rude, which I have no question only incites you to reject it out of hand, I've already spoken with your colleague, and he is expecting you."

"Miss Granger," the parchment crumbling slightly into his clenched fist was the only warning she was given of danger, "I do not pry into your personal affairs and introduce myself into the parts of your life wherein I have no permission to be. I would appreciate it should you deign to treat me in the same manner."

If he'd dropped the formality, granted her a reason for his anger she would have apologized and backed down. As it was, she squared her shoulders. "No."

"Beg your pardon?"

"You should," Hermione counseled, "but I sincerely doubt you will. If you go and have a horrible time, you can abuse me endlessly over the whole affair, but I scheduled the holiday directly when Hogwarts has let out for spring, so I well know you have the time. Your colleague was thrilled at the chance to meet you in person, and what's more, you could use the time away from the school, badly. Only everyone is too afraid to poke their nose where they sense it doesn't belong. Unfortunately for you, I've dealt with much scarier things than you, Severus Snape. You're going to New Mexico."

"Minerva needs me-"

"On a constant, overarching basis, I agree completely. But one week's separation won’t hurt either of you."

"I hardly think spending a week in a center for werewolves constitutes the relaxation that you evidently had in mind when you stirred up this rather volatile little gift of yours."

"I gave it to you because you came here." Hermione's expression sharpened. "I decided that if you came, spent the evening and morning with us, that you could be trusted to go there. Besides, if you had read far enough, you would have seen that I've arranged for you to sleep off the grounds of the center so that there's a place awaiting you should you need to escape."

Snape skimmed the last of the letter. "Always thinking of everything, weren't you, Miss Granger?"

"It's a curse."

"I should like to meet my correspondent," Snape acquiesced. Only by margin of his demeanor was his defeat made graceful.

It reassured Hermione. "I hear New Mexico is glorious that time of year."

Snape pursed his lips. "I suppose I shall see."

*

Remus looked about to swallow his tongue when Hermione reluctantly stepped out of the bathroom. "Bloody hell, Min."

"You bought them for me," she scowled, feeling everything from her nipples to her fingertips turn red. "I just wasn't cut out for this sort of thing."

"That's the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life."

"Probably one too many Obliviates. Want me to look into it?"

Remus bounded off the bed and across the room, catching her by her hips, forcing her to still. His hands were warm through the sheer cream silk of the two-piece lingerie bit he'd bought her for Christmas. The present he'd thankfully thought to have her open out of Zev's all too curious gaze.

"Remus-"

"Harry thought you were beautiful," Remus stated.

"Harry didn't think one way or another about that part of it. I was great in bed, and I never neglected him and he respected my intelligence. He loved me, I know that, but how I looked wasn't part of it. Not for him, or Ron, to whom I was mostly a friend with several benefits and some intense emotional responsibility. I wouldn't change a moment of it, I didn't need them to tell me I was gorgeous, I just needed them." She was all too conscious of the past tense in her final statement. All too conscious of the fact that it was true.

"I think," Remus began slowly, "that Harry and Ron were seventeen year olds with mush for brain and no ability to verbalize what they saw in front of them. Trust me, no seventeen year old boy looks at a girl like Harry used to look at you without thinking she's the most glorious thing alive. He could've walked into a room full of veelas and been less affected."

"I suppose it’s a good thing neither of us is seventeen any longer."

Remus ran a hand up the length of her back. "I reserve the right to think you're beautiful."

"Everybody has the right to be insane, Remus, it's just a matter of how that insanity is dealt with by those around them."

"Gonna send me back to Mungo's?" Remus joked.

"Never," Hermione didn't find it funny.

"I got you another gift. It's not much now, next to the Firebolt. Which, I have to admit being a bit brassed about, seeing as I planned this to be quite the to do, and then you have to go and outdo me without even knowing it."

The corner of Hermione's lips quirked. "What did you do?"

Remus walked to where his wand lay, and waved it over his arm with a short, "Finite Incantatum." A patch of relatively unblemished skin melted away revealing the artwork underneath the glamour. Encircling his upper arm were words, wrapping his arm in a continuous band. They read, "She is stronger than the moon."

Hermoine remembered the process of the Porlock's lines smoldering their way into her skin. She remembered barely being able to use the arm for nearly a week after, exulting in the lingering pain for over a month. "Remus. Baby."

She must have looked as horrified as she felt because he frowned. "If you don’t like it, I can get it Healed, it's not too late."

"It's the best thing anyone has ever done for me, and if you even think about doing it again, I'll castrate you and send the parts to Snape for testing purposes."

"Naturally," Remus replied, not for a minute letting her believe that he understood.

"I don’t want you hurting yourself like that for me. Ever."

"I suppose the fact that you bear my name on your wrist isn't going to enter into this conversation," Remus parried.

"It's not the same, as you well know. You're not psychologically imbalanced."

"Neither are you," came Remus's protest. "You're…were, were hurt. You found the best ways of dealing with it that you could."

"I don't want to think of you in pain because of me." Hermione figured she was entitled to at least not have to take on any more guilt.

"Hon, you do know there's stuff you can do, to make it not as bad? And, not to shock you or anything, but I have a pretty high pain threshold, being a werewolf and all. Don't tell anybody 'bout the last, deal?"

Hermione was able to hold onto her righteous horror for all of a minute before she broke and kissed him. "It really is amazing. Maybe you could, um, wear some sleeveless tops this summer? Let everyone else see?" She bit her lip.

"Claiming me, are you?" Remus stroked his thumb on the underside of her ear.

"Claiming you is when I purposely lift my arms and let my robes pool, flashing everyone my left wrist. This is just…showing off."

"I'm not much of a thing to show." His hands came to her waist, moving upward, bringing the silk top with them.

"And I'm not beautiful, but we're all allowed our idiosyncransies." The top slid over her head and for a moment, she let herself be lost in a soft, cream-colored world.

*

"I've been talking about you behind your back," Remus confided. It was right before they went to bed and he knew she wasn't very likely to work up the energy to be upset, the cunning bastard.

"Oh?" She delivered the question calmly, unwilling to give anything away.

"To Severus."

Just a bit more archly, "A man you can't be in the same room alone with for more than ten minutes?"

"We've been owling on and off since I apologized, back before the school opened. More on than off."

Hermione flinched at that.

"Not about you," Remus was quick to clarify. "That's recent, since Christmas. Mostly we talked shop. Dark Arts, potion developments. I'm not as good as him in either, but I carry my own."

Hermione gently shut the book on werewolves, Snape's gift to her, and set it atop her nightstand. "Why didn't you tell me you were owling? I mean, if it was just conversation, it shouldn't have been a secret."

Remus fidgeted with the blanket. "I just…see, as far as friends go, Severus is your friend, you know? I didn’t want you to feel like I was trying to edge in on that as well, when you've shared Ginny and Nymph and everyone else with me. Zev. We talk about Zev a lot."

Hermione yawned. "I think you're misconstruing our agreement. Just because I don't want to share you, doesn’t mean I don't want to share with you. And Snape could use some friends beyond Minerva and me."

"Understatement. Still, I think at this point we work better as owl buddies then actual companions."

"What have you been saying about me?" Hermione redirected the conversation back to its beginning.

"Don’t get mad."

"Remus," Hermione warned.

"You know that argument we had, about the after-moon WAC party?"

"The one where you told me I needed to get out more?"

"That's the one. Well, Severus agrees with me."

Hermione got the feeling that wasn't the whole story. "In what sense? This had to have come up somehow and forgive me if I seriously doubt you write to Snape about our domestic disturbances."

"Hardly," Remus drawled. "He was a bit…piqued by your Christmas present. Nervous, I would say, knowing him as I feel I do at this point."

"And?" Hermione knew, instinctually, that this was not going anywhere harmless.

"I suggested that he take someone with him, someone to make him feel less out of place, but someone who wouldn't be a constant reminder of Hogwarts, which took Minerva straight out of the running."

"No."

"Listen to me, you need a vacation-"

"No, I made those arrangements so that he could get away from all of this-"

"He doesn't think of you as part of all of this-"

"I meant for him to relax, I'm not someone he relaxes around-"

"You're the closest thing to it," Remus ended the verbal squabbling with the harshness of this edict. "I'm sorry. I know that's not a responsibility you need right now, but it's the truth. He can talk to you, as much as he can talk to anyone, and he trusts you. You do need a vacation, nearly as much as he needs one and you're being just as bloody stubborn as he is."

"I thought you didn't want to share me." It was mean, Hermione knew, but it was all she had left.

Quietly, Remus admitted to a defeat that Hermione didn't want to know about. "Somewhere along the way I stopped paying attention, and you changed the rules on me. No, I don't want to share you. But I feel the compulsion to be selfish in regard to you even less. You need this, and I won't be the one to keep you away from it. If Zev wasn't a mere ten years old, he'd be saying the exact same thing."

"He is only ten years old," Hermione stressed.

"It's a week, Min. Bring him back a souvenir. Take pictures. If there's anything to forgive in the first place, he'll forgive it."

There was a small hollowness right at the front of her chest, carved out by the weariness in his voice. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean…what I said before, about the sharing. I didn't mean that."

Tired as he evidently was, Remus pressed his advantage, "Sorry enough to let me win?"

"One week in New Mexico and you'll let off about me getting out for the length of next term," Hermione wasn't one to just roll over.

"Deal," Remus held out a hand.

She shook on it, pulling him closer for a more thorough apology.

*
Adolescent
*

Zev slept with Remus and Hermione every night for a week in the seven days before she left. Kieran and Ruel were forced to promise her three times daily that they would floo if anything went wrong and, more importantly, they could take care of any emergencies that arose. Remus kidnapped her away to Ginny and Nymph's the afternoon before she was scheduled to leave and used what was normally their time to grade papers in companionable silence for a sordid, brilliant three hours of good-bye sex.

It took the edge off just enough for her to bait the bear, eyeing Snape's ever-present robes skeptically and pointing out, "New Mexico is a desert."

He surveyed the dress that Ginny and her had shopped for in anticipation of the trip. It was a simple sundress with a slight V neck, sleeveless except for a slight fall of material, knee-length. Made of a bright, although not glaring, red Ginny had assured her it complimented all the color she'd gotten spending her days outside with students and the animals to which she was introducing them. Her hair was tied back loosely with a ribbon that matched the dress, hiding the raido ruin, but more fully exposing the phoenix. The porlock and the two names on her wrists were on full display, with the devil's snare sneaking out and the bottom of the thestral only visible enough to suggest something unseen. Snape ventured, "Not a nudist colony?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She slung her bag over one shoulder. "Prude."

She began walking to the end of the wards, the swishing of his robes giving away his location as directly behind her and to her left. As soon as she stepped through the magical boundaries, she turned to him, "See you in a second?"

He tipped his head. She Apparated.

The desert wasn't quite as hot as she had expected, sun soaking into the material of her dress and down, underneath through the skin. Still, it was hot enough that she suspected Snape of being quite miserable. Two seconds after appearing, and he was standing more stiffly than usual, even for him.

She turned herself toward the only building in sight. "Shall we?"

He moved without answering. She followed. The complex was solitary, but large, an almost unending conglomeration of stucco and red clay. Hermione felt the pull of the wards the second they stepped through. Almost instantaneously, a man and a woman appeared, walking toward them. The woman was tall, Hermione estimated about six four. Her hair was a light brown, cropped close to her head. Her eyes, nose and chin were sharp and her mouth seemed overly large on her face, but her smile made up for it, transforming her features into the human version of unadulterated warmth.

The man, who Hermione could only assume was her husband and Snape's colleague, wasn't as tall, but he was close. Unlike the whippet frame his wife carried with grace, his stature was matched by a considerable bulk. His eyes were blue and deep set, his hair a mess of white curls too long unshorn. His smile matched his wife's however, making Hermione oblivious to the rest.

Snape and Hermione caught up to the greeting party quickly. The man held out a hand, which Snape took. "You must be Severus. I've been hoping to meet you for a long time now."

"I assure you the feeling has been mutual." Snape shook the man's hand firmly, before repeating the gesture with his wife. He turned slightly to where Hermione was standing. "This is…a friend, Hermione Granger. She was the one to contact you. Hermione, Paulo and Faelle Alva."

Hermione indulged in the pleasantries of hand-shaking. "Lovely to have a face to match up with the names. My partner, Remus Lupin, sends his sincere thanks for all your help in helping clear up his bout of silver poisoning."

Faelle's smile changed ever so slightly. "Amazing he survived so long as he did, really. Paulo's been working with the samples of blood Severus sent us, hoping to adapt the condition to a more reasonable vaccine against the poisoning."

Snape spoke up. "I've been studying the latest notes you sent, perhaps some time this evening we could go over them. I have some thoughts on the nature of silver itself that I think might be of use?"

"Of course," Paulo assured him. "But first let's get you inside. Something to drink?"

The four made their way inside the complex, the subtle magic of Cooling Charms blowing over their skin as they stepped past the door. Paulo and Faelle called out to people and made introductions as they went along. For the most part, Hermione forgot names the moment they had been dropped. She was preoccupied with the way Snape reacted to Faelle. The way he offered his arm on the journey inside and didn't flinch when she took it. The way he didn't bite at the inside of his lower lip as though fighting to keep his wit in check when she spoke. The way that he actually smiled back, albeit briefly, when she concentrated her grin solely on him.

Obviously, Faelle's alternate form didn’t bother him as much as Hermione would have assumed it did. As much as a smile from him was what this whole enterprise was about, Hermione felt her fingernails digging into her wrist as it stole over his lips. When it vanished, she looked down to find small pockets of displaced skin along the R-E-M of her tattoo.

She rubbed the redness away as much as possible. She didn't want evidence of things she didn’t even understand for other people to see.

*

Hermione made her excuses and escaped back to the quiet of the hotel shortly after dining with the Alvas. Snape stayed to talk shop with Paulo.

She was in the hotel's pool by the time he came back, long after the pool's "closing" hour. Just herself, the water, the nighttime stillness of the desert. He was there, sitting in a chair off to the side when she came up from beneath the water's surface, wet and blind and panting. She flicked the water away from her eyes and opened them, offering, "Come in."

His refusal was not unexpected. "At least your feet," she urged.

She slipped on the bottom of the pool and went back under when he toed off his shoes. By the time she regained equilibrium and got herself straightened, he was folding his robes neatly, placing them on the poolside table. He slid his socks off and tucked them into his shoes before sitting at the edge, pulling his pants to his knees and testing the water with his toes. After a few quick dips, he plunged. "Slightly cold."

"You get used to it, then it feels good."

"You had to pick a Muggle inn. They're all looking at me as though pigs might erupt out of my arse at any moment."

Hermione refused to be flustered by the uncharacteristic use of vulgarity. "I think that's more about the fact that you're wearing wool in the middle of the desert than anything else. Honestly, I don't blame them."

"I'm not the one who's used her skin as a graffiti canvas."

Hermione could see the regret creep across his skin, pale and curdled. It didn't stop her from responding, "Fuck. You."

"I'm sorry. You have the right to do whatsoever you please with your own skin, of course."

"As a matter of fact, Professor," Hermione worked it into a three syllabus curse, "I do."

"Please, Miss Granger," he was pleading, if in a dignified, aloof sort of way, "I should not have said that. I think we both realize that I haven't a limb to support myself upon when it comes to the branding of one's own flesh."

The admission was kind enough -- painful enough -- that Hermione accepted it in the nature it was given. "I will give you that my way of dealing with loss has not necessarily been the foremost psychologically recommended manner of going about things, but you haven't left Hogwarts since the end of the war. Not even for a night, a week, nothing. I'm liable to throw your own stones back into that rather fragile glass house you're presenting me."

Snape swished his feet in a circular pattern. "The last time I left Hogwarts, a somewhat misgiving Albus Dumbledore was the only person to allow me back. Now that I've watched the only man willing to forgive my mistakes be rent to death by a bloody psychopath, how can I be sure that I will be welcome when I return this time?"

"The only way I can keep believing that they'll lower the wards at the school for me, even knowing that I'm not one of them." Hermione drew her eyes away from the hypnotic ripples being created by the activities of Snape's restless feet.

"And that is?"

"You're going to laugh."

"I assure you, I'm much too tired to indulge in such reactions."

"Your word of honor?"

"As a Slytherin."

"Be scary and ironic on your own time," she chided, and gave him the answer, "hope."

"Hope?" He sounded disappointed.

She almost wished he'd laughed. "Something I'd forgotten when I kill- when Harry and Ron died. It's…quite useful, as it turns out."

"I've never-"

"I know." Well, not really, or at least, she hadn’t known until that moment, but it made sense. A man without hope will join someone who promises him that, regardless of what the promise costs. A man without hope will turn his back on those who would kill him for it. A man without hope will stagnate.

"I don't know how-"

"You can learn."

"I'm not much of a student." He sneered it, but Hermione could smell his fear just as clearly as if there were actual wolf blood running the length of her veins.

"But I'm an excellent teacher." Hermione, considering the matter settled, pushed off the edge and glided away from him, toward the other side of the pool. She kept returning.

*

At the end of the week she hugged Faelle and Paulo, promising to write and send pictures of all the people they'd heard so much about. They, in turn, promised to keep her updated on any and all events at the complex. She allowed Snape several moments alone in which to say his own goodbyes, only marginally curious of what they consisted. The two of them made their way silently to the edge of the wards.

Hermione stepped past the wards, ignoring the slight tickling sensation of being allowed through. She turned to Snape, intent on saying, "Well, ta," or something equally blithe. "Thanks for letting me…"

He should have been difficult about it. Should have mocked her inability to finish a sentence or given her options of completion. "I believe that's my line."

"You can't ignore me when we get back." She meant it as a command. It came out like fear.

"I never could, Miss Granger," he mocked lightly. "Your hand was always waving in my face."

Hermione rephrased, "Then you can't hate me when we get back, either."

"No, that was never my end of things," Snape returned softly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Liar."

"You were Potter's girl from day one, there was no other way for it."

Hermione, who had started listening at some point that she didn't remember, heard proof of what Minerva told her in his scathing, bitter, wounded elocution of Harry's last name. "First off, I thought Harry was a reckless idiotic boy until he saved my life from that mountain troll Quirrell let in our first year. He only had to do that because he and Ron had hurt my feelings so badly I was crying in the washroom when it was announced that we needed to return to the dorms. Secondly, Harry was taking notes that first day, when you ragged on him for not paying attention, he had good reason to feel a bit spiteful. Thirdly, even knowing that you were a complete wretch to my two best friends and that you grossly and blindly favored your own house I still wanted nothing more than to hear you say I had done well until my fourth year. After that, admittedly, you had managed to piss me off enough that I didn't care what you thought, but I still didn't hate you. You project things so that you won't have to deal with other people. So long as the three of us 'hated' you, it was perfectly fine for you not to like us back. For your information, Professor, Harry admired you. He didn't like you, but he did admire you. Ron thought you were a bloody arse and probably did hate you, but only because you pushed him to it. Given the chance, Ron preferred to be friends with people."

Somewhere in the middle of her diatribe, Hermione had advanced on Snape and was now standing mere inches away from him, close enough that when she inhaled, they touched. She stumbled back a bit, surprised. "I think you may have hit a nerve."

He didn't apologize, exactly. "Potter was a nerve. Open and constantly being poked. When I came to school…my father was a Slytherin. And I hated my father. Bastard abused my mother on top of gambling away a fortune, and the honor of a name older than Hogwarts. Everyone knew that the heroes were always in Gryffindor, so where did I want to be? I was eleven years old. Every eleven year old escaping from somewhere wants to end up somewhere better.

"I met Lupin on the platform. We were both too shy to even introduce ourselves, but we waited with each other. My mum had dropped me off, but couldn't stay, since she had work to get to, and Lupin's family was gone as well by the time I got there. He let me stand by him, discounting the fact that my robes had been bought second hand and looked as though they'd been worn by every single Weasley sibling before they got to me. I wanted to be his friend.

"We boarded the train and the first compartment we got to had already been claimed by Black and Potter and Pettigrew. There was room for more, but Black and Potter were only willing to allow Lupin in, seeing as how he didn't look, 'like he stole his robes from the dust bin out back of the station.'

"I hated Lupin for not protesting more than I've ever hated him for trying to kill me while transformed into a creature who knows no better."

Hermione commented, "And those four were sorted into Gryffindor."

"And I Slytherin," Snape finished.

"I wish you had known Harry," Hermione told him. The sadness that gripped her whenever she thought of things she wished for Harry stung at the corners of her eyes. "I think you might have liked him."

"I suppose you think the same of Weasley and me."

"Oh, no," Hermione whispered, still swallowing tears. "No, I know the same of you and Ron. The boy you just described could have been Ron, excepting the family issues. He had his own kinds where that was concerned."

"I was equally blind with my own house." More non-apologies. "Sinistra was actually up for head of Slytherin when Artuad retired. I petitioned Albus for it in the rather vain hopes that I might…"

"You did. Millicent. And Graham and Adrian. It was hardly their parent's influence that brought them to Dumbledore."

"For every one of those I can name you three that I failed. Parkinson, Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, Higgs, Flint, Baddock-"

"People cannot always be changed."

"Children can be changed," he argued. "Malfoy."

"Was corrupted at the core by his father."

"One's family is not the determining factor in one's actions."

Hermione pressed her lips together. "Just because Gryffindor heroes are the only ones that anybody ever talks about doesn't mean they're the only ones who exist, Snape." She leaned up for what was becoming her customary peck of leaving. "You're Millicent's hero, and you were Graham's and Adrian's. You're most definitely the hero of all the children at my school and at the complex we just left, and every bit as much for the adults there. Even Remus. Who is sorry he hurt you, even if he doesn't know all the ways in which he did. He wouldn't have sent me with you if he wasn't, desire to see me leave or no."

Snape drew himself up. "If they work, I'll send the improvements Paulo and I theorized on for the Wolfsbane."

"No, you'll bring it," Hermione left no room for disagreement. She Disapparated before he managed to find any.

*

Hermione hadn't even made it properly into the Common Area of Zev's dorm when she was pelted with hugs from every side. Zev impacted her directly from the front, wrapping his arms around her waist from sheer momentum, Ginny took the left side and Nymph the right and though she couldn't see him, Remus was solid and whole against her back.

Ginny announced, "We missed you."

Hermione twisted her head to kiss Ginny's cheek, "Me too, love, immensely."

Nymph pulled away, leading them all to the couch. "Tell us about it! What's New Mexico like? Was Snape a bore? Is the complex like the school? Did you meet-"

Ginny clapped a hand over Nymph's lips, "Did you have a good time?"

Hermione settled herself practically on top of Remus, who didn't speak a word of protest. "I did. New Mexico is lovely, very different from here. Snape was a perfect gentleman, and no, the complex is more of a research facility than a school. American werewolves are generally left alone so long as they aren't killing or infecting people, so there's no reason to create this kind of institution over there. I met Faelle and Paulo and they're both brilliant. Paulo and I took tea together several days to chat about human-werewolf relations, particularly in regard to pack mentality. I learned loads from Faelle, who actually raises mooncalves(7) of all things, says they're very calming while transformed. What trouble have you lot been making in my absence?"

Zev dove right in, "Remus has been teaching me how to fly! On a Firebolt! And he says that it belonged to Harry Potter! Did it? Really?"

"Yeah, baby," Hermione reached to push the hair out of his eyes, "it did. Harry would have loved teaching you to fly on it, but I bet he trusts Remus every bit as much. Harry really liked Remus."

Zev looked suspicious. "How come none of you ever talk about him, if you knew him well enough to have his broomstick?"

"We…" Hermione floundered, only to be saved by Nymph.

"Because we all miss him, very very much, and sometimes, when you miss someone who's never coming back to you, it makes you sad to talk about them."

"Oh." Zev thought about this for a bit. "I didn't mean to make you sad, Min."

"I know." Hermione summoned up the best smile she could manage at that moment. "If you want, sometime I'll show you the pictures I have of him. There's a lot of Ginny's brother Ron, too."

"I know who Ron Weasley was. Professor Tempus thinks it's really important that we know all about the Voldemort Wars. You're all really big heroes, I know, you're in the books that people wrote after the war was won and my parents used to talk about you all the time. Even Remus, and he's a werewolf."

"Especially Remus," Hermione corrected. Behind her, Remus pressed a kiss to the crook of her shoulder.

"Was Harry as nice as all the books say? His hair looks kinda like mine, it's always messy."

Ginny intervened, "Harry was the best friend you could ever have and probably a worse enemy. He was sweet and funny and very very loyal. His hair was messier than yours, and whenever somebody would try to cut it, it would just grow back immediately."

"I loved his hair," Hermione told Zev. "It was soft, and very much a part of him, and I loved every part of Harry."

Zev asked, "Do you love mine like that?"

Hermione pulled Zev to her. "And more, baby."

Remus' arms made their way around her and squeezed the scrawny ten year-old to both of them. Nymph cooed. Hermione heard skin contact skin and knew that Ginny had smacked her. Hermione giggled into the fine strands of Zev's hair.

*

Remus couldn't let go of her, not even to eat. She was fine with it, since it meant he appeared to be the clingy one, rather than her. Somewhat noble of him, actually. As soon as they were back in her room, door warded, Hermione concentrated all the touching she'd been holding in toward one surge of contact, pressing her body to his, mouth to mouth, breasts to pectorals, waist to waist. Without allowing for much room, both of them managed to shed their clothes.

Remus was already hard and she was long past wet and it was obvious they weren't going to make it to the bed so Hermione hooked her arms around Remus's neck and pulled herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist and allowing him to push her back up against the door for support. It didn't take long for Hermione to be keening into the place where Remus's shoulder curved up into his neck, for him to drive his fingers into her back and repeat, "Missed you, missed you, missed you."

He let her down slowly, holding on while she double checked that her legs still worked. When sturdiness had been coaxed back into her limbs, they chanced the several steps needed to make it to the bed, and collapsed. Thankfully Remus had thought ahead and turned down the sheets so that all they needed to do was pull them up over themselves and cuddle into a warm state of post-sexual languor.

Remus opened the conversation they most definitely had not been having in front of other people with, "Severus was a perfect gentleman? Was he drinking out of his own flask the entire time?"

Hermione let the laughter bubbling from her stomach upward free. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I've been known to keep one or two of those in my time," Remus let the drollness of his tone convey the rolling of his eyes that Hermione couldn't see.

"It was a rhetorical lead-in, Remus."

"Yeah, well, it was a stupid rhetorical lead-in. What secret am I keeping?"

"The secret of why Snape hates you."

"Um." Remus's index finger skittered over her shoulderblade. "I don’t know how to tell you this, but…"

"Not that reason, dip. The reason you don't know, hence making it a secret and thereby something for which he would poison my dinner with untraceable slow-acting poisons and never feel regret about it should I tell you."

"He'd poison his own dinner first, but I see your point. At the very least, my life would be forfeit."

"And then what would I do?" Hermione nipped at the hollow of his throat. "But you won’t tell, so all this is moot."

"Tell me your secrets, gorgeous."

"He wanted to be your friend. The two of you were standing on the platform together and he thought you might be a friend, but you let Sirius and James turn him away."

"How irrevocably Severus is that? He hates me for bowing to peer pressure more than for trying to kill him."

"About that," Hermione mused, "I don't think werewolves bother him. At least, not in the way we all supposed."

"I've suspected that for a bit."

"Could've let me in on it."

"I thought you knew. You see the way he treats Zev as often as I do, maybe more."

"Yes but it's always an uphill struggle to get him near this place."

"Because it's a community. One that he doesn't belong to, and he figures one of those is enough."

"He belongs to Hogwarts," Hermione protested. "Minerva would be lost should he decide to leave."

"Minerva, as much a force as she is, does not a community make, dearest."

"Still."

Remus let it drop. "I'm working at trying to be the friend he thought I could be that day on the platform. It's much harder now. Then I would only have had to stand up to James and Sirius, now I have to stand up to all his memories. It doesn't help that he's absolutely clueless as to what, exactly, a friend is. Albus was as much of one as he ever really had and I think my overtures seem patently like seduction of the Death Eater sort."

"Yes, well, they would have provided him his own community," Hermione pointed out.

"We can provide a community of his own," Remus hissed, more sincere than angry.

"Can you?" It was a second before Hermione even realized what she had asked. "Shit. I didn’t mean that."

"You must be the only witch in the world who wants to transform into a death-bringing beast once a month."

"I was bloody well apologizing, Remus."

"If someone came here to take you away, to hurt you, to touch one hair on your head, do you for a second think we wouldn't tear them to pieces? With or without claws, we would. What else can you possibly ask of us?"

"That Zev not get that look in his eyes, the way he does sometimes when he first wakes up, like he's gotta keep me in his sight no matter what or I might up and disappear, off to find a better gig. Or that you not send me places with Snape because you think I need more than you do, because you think I'm better than you deserve. I know you don’t mean it, anymore than Zev does, but just because I can leave doesn't mean I want to, just because I don’t have scars that I clawed into my skin doesn't mean mine weren't self-inflicted. If the rest of the wizarding world is going to condemn me as a werewolf -- and they have, don’t doubt it for a second -- I ought to at least have the right of being one. But I don't."

"Min." Remus squeezed until she couldn't breathe before loosening up. "Min, I sent you with Snape because…because if the wizarding world is going to condemn him as a Death Eater, and it does, then he ought at least to have had the right of actually being one."

"Oh." She wished he were still squeezing her, allowing the tightness in her chest to be explained away.

"I should've said that earlier, maybe."

This wasn't his fault, so Hermione shook her head, her lips brushing his skin. "I shouldn't have assumed to understand your motives."

"I care about the both of you. Admittedly, perhaps more you than him, but still, I just wanted to help."

Hermione gifted him with, "You did. We yelled at each other a lot, mostly, but that's how we are."

"And I only feel you're too good for me in the universal way that everyone feels their lover is too good for them. It's nothing to do with the werewolf issue. You do it too, so you haven’t a bit of room with which to argue."

"I have a ton of room," Hermione argued for argument's sake, "just none with which to win."

Remus chuckled. "I'm glad you're back."

"Mm," Hermione closed her eyes, giving into the lull of sleep, "missed you."

*

As usual, it was Zev who noticed Snape first. Hermione was beginning to wonder if she should have the kid tested for Empath Magic.

It was the dinner hour, and Hermione was seated in her faculty chair, up with the rest of the professors. Snape chose to sit next to Zev at his dorm table. He glanced up at Hermione to apologize, but found her writing books of gratitude with her expression. He tightened his lips in apparent understanding and mouthed, "After."

When the students had been lined up and lead back to the dorms, Kieran having mercy and sending Zev's dorm last, Remus suggested, "I could wait for you in our rooms."

Hermione killed that line of thinking with a, "Hardly."

Hermione made her way to Snape, Remus at her side, "Faculty lounge?"

Snape drew a flask from his robes, "I just came to bring this."

Hermione was undeterred, "Faculty lounge?"

Snape didn't answer, but when she stepped past him, he followed.

Hydrea and Ruel were in the lounge, grading papers and arguing over the last school Quidditch game. From the frustrated glare Hydrea threw at the door when she walked in, Hermione sensed the argument was nearly to the point wherein the indicated sexual tension found resolution. Hydrea's face smoothed over when she caught a glimpse of looming black behind Hermione, "Severus?"

Snape stepped into the lounge. "Miss Jigger."

Hydrea hadn't been at dinner, something about a potion that needed supervising, so Hermione let the two of them have their catch-up chat. Hydrea informed him how classes were going, he asked her some questions in order to ascertain the quality of her education, Hydrea rushed in and hugged him and then disappeared before he could retaliate in any way. Hydrea's timing of everything was a testament to just how well she knew the man.

Ruel looked at Snape with the equivalent of a shrug played out across his face and loped out to find his erstwhile girlfriend. Hermione watched his profile, watched how his eyes narrowed ever so slightly and then quickly returned to normal. Remus took the bottle Snape was still clenching, and sniffed. "Basil?"

"Two leaves, whole," Snape confirmed. "It should help deaden the taste."

"It certainly helps the smell. What else is new?"

"Ground cactus. An American branch of the mimbletonius family. The Brewer at the compound uses it for concussed patients who are having trouble recalling events around the injury, or anyone displaying amnesiac tendencies."

"And that won't interact badly with lobalug(6) venom?" Remus didn't sound suspicious, just curious.

"It shouldn't," Snape's words were slow enough to make it clear that this was a danger, "there's only enough venom to deaden some of the wolf's impulses, it slows the heart, that kind of thing, so that the blood drive isn't so forceful. Technically nothing other than a separate venom should be able to affect the lobalug at that level, but this is all theoretical. Of course, I folded in a bit of dried billywig(11) stings to help with the pain, and I will admit that reactions between those and venoms is drastically under-researched. There's no reason they should set each other off, but the possibility remains."

"If something does go wrong, something that our precautions can't take care of, you can fix it, correct?" Hermione didn't want to doubt Snape's abilities, but being an on-again, off-again academic, she was well aware of the potential pitfalls of theory.

"Probably." He continued at the expectant look Hermione purposely gave him, "I have four separate antidotes for lobalug venom. One should clear up the problem."

"It'll be fine." Remus's optimism, faux or otherwise, effectively ended the conversation. "What's happening at Hogwarts? Minerva is the world's worst correspondent. Well, second worst, I wouldn't let anyone usurp your spot."

Snape seemed on the edge of sniping something nasty back until he caught the look of fond affection on Remus's face. His lips quirked in what Hermione could only guess was an attempted smile of acknowledgement. "We're busy. You're familiar with the word? Or shall I get myself to the library and pick up a dictionary for you?"

Hermione let them battle each other with syllables and phrases for a while before jumping in, leaving all three of them amused and informed and oddly satisfied when Snape finally flooed out in the far too wee hours of the morning.

*

Hermione wasn't entirely sure which of the three of them it shocked the most, her, Remus or Snape, but the upgraded Wolfsbane worked. There were kinks, but Remus not only felt cognizant the whole evening, he remembered everything. "Even the change," he stressed, which normally just consisted of a whole lot of, "Hurt like bloody hell."

"Still hurt?" Hermione wasn't sure giving the kids a batch that would allow them to clearly remember the agony of transformation was a fantastic idea.

"Not nearly as much. It's hardly something I would do for fun, but better."

"Anything bad I should know about?"

"Still tastes like day-old dragon refuse."

"Your descriptive abilities overwhelm me."

Remus wiggled his eyebrows. "Just saying, the basil's not exactly living up to its promise."

"If that's it I'm going to owl Snape, tell him to change next month's batch over."

"You should-" Remus started before changing his train of thought. "He deserves a thanks in person."

"Want me to go to Hogwarts?"

"No," the pitch of Remus's voice was off, "what I want is to go to Hogwarts myself, say thank you to this man who could be my friend myself, take you with me, maybe hit Hogsmeade afterward. That is what I want."

Hermione stepped back a little at the repressed anger bleeding from him. "We could-"

"We can't do anything. Not without risking this whole school. Zev."

"Nobody except us-"

Remus pulled her to him, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go mad on you."

"It was really about time," Hermione told him.

"Been waiting?"

"You branded yourself an outcast once for the freedom it afforded you," Hermione observed. "How could I not expect this? I just wish there was something I could do about it. If you… I mean, I could talk to Zev, see how he feels about moving. Faelle and Paulo said they'd set me up anytime I wanted, and New Mexico doesn’t have movement prohibiting laws."

"And leave everything that matters to you behind?" Remus chided, pushing her slightly away from himself.

"You matter more," she argued, possibly as surprised by the words as him.

"What would Severus do?"

It should have been easy to dismiss the question. To figure he would do as he'd always done. To not care. "You still matter more."

"I love you, too," Remus said for her, "but it would leave him with…with Minerva and his fractured sorta-kinda academic familial relationship. I couldn't…look, I know we were enemies. He's the man who made it impossible for me to choose anything but branding, and yet, in spite of that, I'm over it. He's everything I have left from my youth. I can’t walk away from him now anymore than I think he could walk away from me."

"All right," Hermione conceded, "so we can't leave here."

"No." For all that it was his own decision, the trapped look in Remus' eyes remained.

"I'll see if Snape will come here, then at least you'll get half your wish." Hermione hoped he didn't notice her own awareness of the insufficiency of the offer.

"You still working on those field trips?" The question would have been conversational, had it come at any other time.

"Diligently," Hermione promised.

"I know," Remus turned his head to the side, away from her, "I know everyone is gonna want to go to the Quidditch game, but." He bit his lip. "I'd really like to see Oliver and Katie play. It's not fair of me, to ask, I know. I'm sorry, only-"

"It's fine, I'll tell them Oliver and Katie requested you and get them to lie if questioned. They'll be on the up and up with it, they'd love for you to see them play. They ask about you every time I manage to make a game, truly."

Remus's smile was obviously a product of great effort, "Thank you."

"Anything for you," she'd once told Harry that, once whispered it in his ear, loud enough for Ron to hear, loud enough for him to know she meant the both of them. Harry had kissed her and blithely answered, "Same," and Ron had hooked himself around her so that she would understand that Harry was speaking for him. They'd often been of the same mind when it came to her.

Remus pressed his forehead to hers, "Everything for you."

Hermione drew a breath in, ushering in the feeling of movement. Ron's arms were still wrapped around her, in some ways, holding on, keeping her safe, but Remus was here, real, the next part of things, the next part of Harry's unspoken "anything." "Yeah," Hermione whispered, "that was what I meant."

*

Snape remembered Zev's birthday. Remembered, and showed up, and brought the newest game from Zonko's; the one that was so popular Hermione had been willing to sell body parts for it and still hadn't managed a purchase.

For a brief, awful second, Hermione hated him for being something she couldn't ignore anymore.

Then half of Zev's dorm mates were on top of him, trying to get in on the game. Zev was grinning, hugging a thoroughly uncomfortable appearing Snape and Hermione was too content to expend energy on hatred. Zev disengaged in order to return to his newest possession. Hermione drew up behind Snape, "Coffee?"

"Spiked?" Snape's expression didn't waver, but there was an edge of pleading to the request.

Hermione smiled, aware that he couldn't see her. "I'm sure we can rummage up something."

Hermione glanced quickly in Lyla, the dorm mother's, direction. Lyla mouthed, "Under control," and made shooing motions at her. Hermione didn't wait around for her to change her mind, gathering up Snape and snagging Remus on her way out.

As Hermione was setting the pot to brew, Remus engaged Snape in conversation. "How'd you get that? Seriously, Min's been on a waiting list for weeks now and we're under the impression that the four horsemen'll probably ride on past here before we get our hands on one."

"Four horsemen?" Snape's ability to distract a questioner was practically legendary.

Remus was tenacious, though. "You really should've taken Muggle Studies, you would've enjoyed the apocalypse unit. Muggles have much more imagination in that area than we do, really. The game. Your possession of it."

"Was a roundabout thing," Snape tried.

Hermione turned around to add the weight of her stare to Remus's.

"I was owed a favor," Snape added.

Neither Hermione nor Remus was mollified.

Snape turned his head to the side. "It will upset you."

Hermione frowned. "I told you no more trading sexual favors for store-bought merchandise."

Snape's eyes widened slightly. Hermione picked up where she'd left off, "No, not that? All right, well the same goes for selling illegal potions, or pimping out your students, or-"

Snape cut her off. "I shared something that was left to me."

"Gave one of the twin's potions away, did you?" Hermione returned to her task, pouring coffee into three cups.

"How do you know about that?" Snape sounded more tired than suspicious. The lack of animosity soothed Hermione. She served a cup to Remus and one to Snape, taking Redda's communal rum down from the pantry and splashing some into all three cups.

She sat down. "Ginny and Charlie. Charlie was the executor of all the Weasley wills, being the eldest Weasley alive. The twins left all their inventions to the professors who most directly influenced said products. The ones that were meant to go to professors already dead were given to Minerva for safe-keeping."

"With the provision," Snape instructed, "that they be used wisely."

Remus snorted into his cup. Coming up to two curious faces he supplied, "Fred and George. Wisely. Just not the kind of thing you expect to hear in the same sentence."

Hermione closed her eyes for a second, letting the wave of sadness sweep over and past her. She opened them. "So you traded one of the potions for a copy of the game?"

"Not exactly." Snape took several quick sips of his drink.

Remus leaned back against his chair before stiffening slightly. "Merlin, Severus. That's brilliant."

Snape winced. "I assure you, it was less brilliance and more lack of a plan that lead one thing into the next."

"All the same, that's practically Marauderish of you."

"Maruaderish?"

Suddenly bashful, Remus paid careful attention to the table. "Oh, just something me and my friends used to call ourselves."

Hermione watched Snape digest that while pretending to sip at her drink. She swallowed more than she should have when he finally said, "Ah."

She chose that moment to cut in, "Anybody mind telling me exactly what Snape did?"

Remus brought his face up. "He gave Zonko's the potion in order to create something new with, in this case, the game. I'd imagine the potion works as the basis for the visual experiences associated with the game. Anyhow, he knew that whatever they did it would be hard to use one of the Weasley's products and not come up with a winner. He just made sure one of the games would be held aside for him when the time came to give it to Zev."

Snape verbally waved Remus's admiration away. "I was merely determined to show the two of you up."

Irrationally, Hermione felt a pull to slide herself over the table and kiss Snape. She rubbed at her eyes and stayed put. "Good job."

"Oh, absolutely," Remus agreed. "However, as that was a formal declaration of war, don't expect your next victory to come so easily."

"I positively quake with worry," Snape tossed off.

"You should." Underneath Remus's soft jocularity there was a subtle pitch of something feral.

Hermione tested the words for double entendre. When she found it, she was the one quaking.

*

Hermione owled Snape, "Have to take a trip into Diagon, mind accompanying?" It made Minerva happy when Hermione managed to wrestle Snape from his traditional stomping grounds.

Unsurprisingly, he wasn't willing to come without a fight. "Can't handle humans on your own?"

Hermione fired back, "At least with werewolves I can see the teeth."

He must have felt the truth of that statement, as his next missive was a harmless, "Thursday, fourteen hundred?"

She persuaded him to move it up an hour and arranged a meeting place in between Hogwarts and wereworld, the staff's nickname for her school. Kieran had coined the phrase out of frustration at the rather ambiguous title "The School." It had caught on slowly, but completely.

In the spirit of compromise, seeing as how she had been the one to drag him out on what was essentially her errand, Hermione nudged him away from Magical Menagerie, where she had an order of Knarls(5) awaiting her. Instead she chose the direction of a shop Hydrea had told her about, a hole-in-the-wall near to Knockturn that tended to procure potion ingredients that were rarely on hand.

Snape turned to her at the door, "You know this place?"

"Hydrea."

He stepped inside. She let him browse, trying her best not to peer over his shoulder. The way he picked up bags of powder, felt their weight and immediately knew whether or not there was quality inside, the way his nose twitched slightly at each ingredient he perused, the way he looked as though he had completely forgotten about her, it all made her heart quicken. Left alone to pursue his passion, the ease with which it came to him unfurled something within him. It was like watching Harry on his broom, or Ron at his chess set, only without all the tension.

She snuck up to the counter to purchase one of the ingredients he had left behind with the tiniest look of regret. She planned to use it as a bribe to convince him to share ice cream with her.

Snape had bought several things on his own and they were heading to the Menagerie when a woman caught hold of Hermione's arm, nearly spinning her around with the force of her yank. Hermione pulled her arm out of the woman's grasp and to herself immediately, "Excuse me?"

"You're that werewolf bitch, the one who thinks those animals should be allowed anything other than a silver bullet to the head."

Hermione, ready to reply with a nonplussed, "Yes?" was stopped by Snape's cold, sharp, "At least the werewolves have hearts twenty-eight days out of the month. When was the last time the same could be said for you, madam?"

The woman gave Snape a cursory glance, as if only just noticing him, and spat, "What, now you keep Death Eaters to defend you and your monsters?"

"Only those who received the Order of Merlin, First Class," Hermione parried, amazed that her voice could sound so steady. Werewolf prejudice was everywhere. Hermione had trained herself to allow it to slide over her, through her, past her. She didn't ignore the danger, she just didn't let it touch her if it wasn't to some purpose.

She'd forgotten about people's reactions to Snape. That he kept to himself for reasons other than a somewhat abrasive personality and force of habit. Remus's explanation, his insight into Snape's appearance as a Death Eater rather than existence as one, rushed through her head, causing her a moment's dizziness. The woman was still talking, her voice low and mean, but Hermione wasn't paying attention. She didn't matter. She was just another person who thought Hermione was a werewolf. Another person who thought Snape was a Death Eater. Another person.

Not one of them.

Hermione cast a quick Quietus and moved away, letting Snape handle defense when the woman started to come after them, hoping he knew what was appropriate to use in the middle of Diagon. Trusting that he did.

Whatever he did stopped the woman, and while the stares had increased overall, they made it to the Menagerie without further incident. She counted the Knarls and conversed with the girl behind the counter about a new breed of magical birds she had heard was being engineered in New Guinea. She picked up a toy for Pandorus and Guinevere, made her purchases, and stepped outside. Snape was waiting for her, leaning up against the front of the building, reading one of the labels of a newly acquired ingredient. "Ready?"

Hermione rustled in the pockets of her robe and found the ingredient she had bought for him. "I was going to use this as a bribe to get you to share a bowl with me at Fortescue's."

"Not feeling up to staying any longer than absolutely necessary?"

Hermione put the small container in his pocket. "Not feeling up to playing games. Come with me because…because we have a lot in common, or because you like me, or because ice cream sounds good. Something that's not because you want what I can give you."

"You needn't-"

"You defended me to her. Without even thinking about it. You couldn't've, it was too fast. You just…acted like I was something that mattered to you, automatically."

"And what if I chose to eat ice cream with you because I do want what you can give me?" Snape asked quietly.

"It sounds a little more substantial when you say it," Hermione admitted.

"I'm partial to blueberry."

*

The defined taste of frozen blueberries stayed on Hermione's tongue for a week, waking her up in the morning, causing her to swallow suddenly in the middle of lectures, distorting the taste of Marissa's dinners. In a desperate attempt to rid herself of the psychosymptomatic reaction, Hermione insisted that her and Remus move their normal grade-session meeting place from the faculty lounge to her room. In the middle of trying to figure out why one of her third years thought the Ashwinder and the Sphinx were related, Hermione threw away all the tact she'd been storing inside and blurted out, "What would you say if I told you I've been thinking about kissing Snape?"

"Oh, thank Merlin." Remus nearly collapsed onto the desk, looking as though he was Atlas, and somebody had just offered to hold the world for a minute or two.

"Y'know, if you wanted to be rid of me that badly, you could've just mentioned something. I'm quite good at taking a hint. Usually," Hermione added, hoping she hadn't been missing scads of them.

"Wrong source of relief."

Hermione played the conversation back. "Oh. You too?"

Remus nodded, "Months now."

"The way he uses his hands when he talks about potions, like he's actually making them?" It was kind of nice, having someone to chatter with this about. It should have been weird, but Harry and she had discussed Ron's fingers all the time. At least, all the time when they weren't feeling dirty. Then other parts got equal play time. Ron and her had indulged in fantastic sex fantasizing about Harry's stomach. Observational talk was something of a kink with her.

Remus grinned. "How about the face he makes right before he's about to tear someone a new one? The one that's practically innocence itself."

"Yeah, and there's the way you can just kinda see his hips when his robes move. Sometimes I think if I ever actually got under there, I'd be disappointed, like maybe it's the tease more than anything."

"It's the neck with me, because it's right underneath all those buttons, just a simple one-two-three and you'd be looking at it, but you never are."

It was a girl thing, Hermione knew, but, "I want to brush his hair."

"I want to tickle him. I've always wondered if he would actually laugh. It's so hard to get him to, unless you're matching him inch for inch for pure lack of verbal mercy."

"I want to hold him, and see if he'd let me hold on," Hermione dared.

"I want to blow him, and see if he'd be appreciative," Remus one-upped her.

"I want to watch."

They both panted for a few seconds at the imagery they were creating for themselves. When she could string more than one word together, Hermione asked, "Are we being serious?"

"This is going to sound odd, but when I think of sharing you with him, of sharing him with you, of being shared between the two of you, it doesn't seem much like sharing at all. Not in the compromising, have to give a little to get a little way."

"Maybe if this weren't me it would sound odd. But uh…done this before, remember? Sometimes things just aren't meant to be structured by everyone else's binaries and preconceived notions."

"It must have been difficult, at times," Remus probed.

"Every relationship has its pitfalls. Sometimes ours were about jealousy and issues of three-way dynamics. More often they were about the fact that one of us was pissed off about something another did, same as most people. We just learned not to take sides."

"Maybe we are serious."

"We should know, before we royally fuck things up and never see him again. I…that wouldn't work out for me," Hermione understated.

"He's going to be hell to convince." Remus tugged at his ear ruefully.

"That sounds pretty serious."

"As Quidditch," Remus told her with a solemnity at which she couldn't help but laugh.

"Professional Quidditch, even."

"Even," Remus agreed.

*
Teenager
*

The beginning of summer hols was painful all around. Kids whose parents had worked hard to have them returned left friends and the comfort of an insulated community to go back to the "real world." While they were happy to see their families, it wasn't without quite a bit of nightmares and some waking emotional outbursts that this was accomplished.

Meanwhile, the kids who were left behind dealt with the trauma of being unwanted in their own ways, and fights broke out everywhere. Not for the first time, Hermione was aware of being insanely grateful that wands were a limited commodity at wereworld. She remembered the consequences of mixing pubescent angst and magic all too well.

Faculty and staff rushed around trying to limit damage and soothe emotional distress. Hermione and Remus were managing three hours of sleep a night -- four if they were lucky -- and from the looks of it, nobody else was doing much better.

Things calmed down a bit once the kids who were leaving had flooed out. Although it was necessary to check up on each child's welfare throughout the summer, the time those kids consumed was severely lessened, and the attention previously concentrated on them could be spread out among those remaining at the school.

In the absence of classes, Steven and Remus put together a Quidditch Camp to keep those who enjoyed playing the sport occupied and out from underfoot. Redda drafted a few of the kids who had shown interest into helping her plant new vegetation for summer and rework the landscape of the school's garden a bit. Acacia Lewan decided to make use of one of her off-time hobbies and set up a crafts corner in the Main Hall. Each week she started a new project, and whoever wanted to join in just had to approach her corner and ask for something to do. Hermione picked a few of the older kids to help her raise the litter of baby mooncalves Faelle had sent her by way of a solstice present. They were finicky little things, but Hermione discovered just how right Faelle was about their presence during the full moon in mid-July. The day after the final full, she had seven more volunteers to help with their care, the kids had liked them so much.

Professional Quidditch was in season and Millicent would show up regularly to pull Hermione away from whatever she was doing, with a, "Zach's waiting for us, Oliver and Katie got us box seats." Hermione sensed Millicent had collaborators, as there was always someone waiting to take over for her if she was with the children. Also, when she would return there would inevitably be a "staff meeting" in the lounge that evening, the whole faculty waiting to hear a blow-by-blow version of the game. After awhile, Hermione began thinking that if she was ever hard up for a job, she could probably try her hand at Quidditch announcing.

Despite all the activities, summer was far less hectic than the school year. There were less students to watch over and no papers to grade, and this gave Hermione the time to disappear to Hogwarts quite often and scold Snape, "There are other purposes for a break in the school year than research."

"Name one good one, Miss Granger," Snape challenged.

"Getting out a bit, providing your body with some much-needed Vitamin D."

"Vitamin D can be found in many of the foods regularly served on the tables in the Great Hall," Snape responded logically.

"Cheering on your local Quidditch team."

"I will assume that was in jest, and carry on about my research."

"Visiting friends who hardly get to see you during the school year because you're too busy and one of them can't exactly just up and come see you." Hermione hadn't meant for the last part to sound as raw as it had in her ears.

"It's hardly my fault the Ministry likes to keep a tight lock on the cage of everyone's favorite Dark Creatures." Snape stirred his potion incrementally faster.

"Turn around and say that to my face, Snape."

He didn't.

"Every time I think I might have the tiniest light of insight into you, I'm wrong. You're not afraid of werewolves, you acted as though Faelle and the others in New Mexico were unquestionably human. You treat Zev as though he's the closest thing you'll ever have to offspring. Yet you use that excuse without fail whenever I try being a friend. I'm good at reading your verbal mechanisms of defense. I know when I can laugh at something you say and when I'm supposed to positively bristle at it and for the most part, I do my best to be contrary to the last and not let it phase me. But I'm tired of sometimes pretending like you don’t like me and Remus because you're…having an off day? Reminded that something about us scares you? I don't know, I don't care, get the fuck over it."

He had stopped stirring somewhere in the midst of her tirade. The smell in the room had changed and Hermione instinctively knew that the potion was ruined.

"You wouldn't want me to get over it," Snape finally said. His voice was eerie, toneless.

"You don't know what I would or wouldn't want. You're too busy paying attention to who you think I am. Who you think Remus is. Who you think we are together."

There was a catch in his breath, but he stayed silent.

Hermione took it as a sign of mental saturation. "I'm sorry about your potion."

"You're not the one who stopped stirring."

"Not everything is always your fault," Hermione stressed.

"The potion can be made again," Snape pointed out.

"That's why you have them. Because they're yours to control, to create. Not everything can be like that. Come visit when you understand that." Hermione hoped she wouldn't be waiting as long as she suspected.

*

September showed up one day, bringing with it a new school year. There had been no graduates from the previous year, since even the kids who were of age to be seventh years had been kept out of school for so long that they were seriously retarded in their studies. While not exactly a happy circumstance, it meant that places on staff didn't have to be found, as they probably would in a few short years. Hermione vowed not to worry about it until it actually became a problem.

Her birthday came with less fanfare than the beginning of the school year, which was perfectly fine with her. Ginny and Nymph invaded wereworld's kitchens that day, Ginny whipping up the quiche dish which had been the only thing that could convince Hermione to eat for nearly a year after the final battle and Nymph decorating Ginny's cooling sugar biscuits. Hermione knew Zev had either asked to help or gotten drafted, as she could see the tell tale signs of an icing battle in his hair.

Hermione arrived at the Great Hall at the time Ginny had appointed "Party Time," an hour slightly after the kids had been separated out and placed in their dorms for safekeeping, to find not only all her friends on the staff, Zev, Remus, Ginny and Nymph waiting for her, but Minerva, her parents, Millicent and Zach, Katie and Oliver, Charlie and Nora, Luna and Terry, Dean and Kingsley. "Oh," was all she managed before being pulled in a million different directions for hugs and birthday wishes.

Ginny had worked a way to Charm the hall so that music was playing. When they finished eating, Kingsley was the first to ask, "May I have this dance?" but was followed shortly by Charlie's slightly more roguish, "Lemme take you out for a spin."

Not to be outdone, Nymph just stole Hermione out her seat (and her conversation with Terry) and whirled her 'round and 'round until she was giggling and unable to stand up straight. At which point, Terry took her back, and waited for her to regain equilibrium.

On top of the biscuits, her mum had brought a triple-berry trifle, the kind she only used to make for holidays and special occasions. Hermione ate way too much of it and kissed Genie, "You shouldn't've."

"You never come around for the times when I do make it, anymore," Genie scolded, although not without understanding.

"I can't…Remus and Zev, they wouldn't be able to come with me," Hermione explained, even though her mum knew.

"I know, but if that's to be the case, your Dad and I will just have to come to you more often. We're going to spend this year's holidays here, and you have no say in the matter, miss."

Hermione swallowed tears and hugged Genie to herself. "Thanks, mum."

"You could've asked, luv."

Hermione just nodded. It was hard to remember that her parents didn't really understand what she was doing here. How other people looked when they got invited or needed to visit. Besides, one was supposed to go to one's parents for the hols, not the other way around. It wasn't that Hermione was used to doing anything the traditional way, but there were some lines even she couldn't cross.

Remus finally managed to get a dance in for himself and when she murmured, "Oh, hey, you're good at this," his answer of, "Among the many talents Sirius passed on to me," didn't sound broken. Sad, but not broken.

She pressed her lips to the skin right before his ear. "Too bad he never got time to teach his godson."

"Two left feet?"

"Forget two," Hermione laughed, "try three."

She was pretty sure Remus was just showing off when he dipped her at the end of the dance. She had chosen to make this one of the rare times when she wore her hair down and it was streaming over her back, sweeping the floor at the lowest point of the dip. He pulled her back up, into his arms, into a kiss, and Hermione decided he could do whatever he wanted with her so long as that was the end result.

Eventually, despite her complete and utter determination not to ask, Hermione found her way to Minerva and opened her mouth, "Severus?"

She blinked at her own question. The word felt odd on her tongue being the first time she had ever said it in eleven years of knowing the man. It had been said, though, and Hermione knew there was no going back from that. "He was invited, correct?"

Minerva, for all her calm façade, had the air of one very pissed off woman. "Stubborn git." She pursed her lips as though more wanted to come out of them and it was only her dignity that was stopping it.

"No…it's fine. I told him," Hermione smiled sheepishly, "last time I saw him I told him that he could only come see us when he figured something out. I think he took me at my word."

"He would, the literal-minded moron," Minerva was quite obviously not mollified.

Hermione took Minerva's hand, "It's part of his charm."

"Oh, definitely," Minerva snorted.

More softly Hermione told Minerva, "He'll make it up to me."

"You sound so sure," but Minerva didn't sound as if she doubted.

"The way he knows potions," Hermione explained, "that's the way I know the people who are a part of me." Inside her head, Ron grinned and ruffled her hair and Harry rested his head on her lap, eyes closing. Across the room, Zev caught her eye and waved at her, Remus watching the whole thing and sharing her look of contentment. None of them disagreed.

*

Granted, Severus's definition of "making things up" wasn't always exactly what Hermione would have it be. Him arriving at the break of dawn the morning after her birthday party -- topped by some truly adventurous and brilliantly effective sexual measures on Remus's part -- fell into this category. Nonetheless, she answered his timid knock on the door while pulling her robe over herself.

He very studiously did not look at her as she padded past him, closing the door softly behind her. "Coffee," she mumbled, and kept walking.

He must have followed, because when Lyla handed her a mug prepared just the way she preferred, Veronica turned to pour another one for him. Veronica told her, "Kick the boys from the table, they can read the paper over here."

"It's really fine," Hermione insisted. Instead, she lead Severus through the school, almost pleased by his less-than-obvious skittishness over her near-nakedness. It served him right for missing her birthday party, morning-after-make-up trip or no.

She worked her way across the lawns, into the greenhouse, where she located two patio chairs and settled herself into one. Severus took the hint and folded himself into the second chair. "I'm not good at parties."

"Yes well, given your magnificent interpersonal skills, I can't say as I'm completely shocked." Hermione took a sip of her coffee. The greenhouse was slightly cool, especially given her state of undress, but it smelled good and looked cheerful and was one of her very favorite places to spend a waking up hour.

"Keep it up and I shan't give you your birthday gift," Severus threatened.

Hermione waved a careless hand. "If it's anything I'd actually want, you won't want to keep it."

"Our tastes aren't all that different."

Hermione took another sip of coffee laced with a shot of cream and a dash of sugar. She stared thoughtfully into the black surface of his still full cup. He frowned and swallowed some of the coffee hastily, taking away her object of contemplation. He drained the cup expertly and placed it on the ground.

Letting the warmth of her last sip curl in her chest and stomach, Hermione waited.

"I despised that he could speak Parseltongue," was what greeted her at the end of the wait.

Hermione went with it. "More or less than you hated the fact that he was James Potter's son?"

"More. However much I hated James, I hated Voldemort more."

"Yes, well, the latter had considerably more control over you."

"Me and snakes. As much as the Gryffindors insist we are one and the same."

Hermione's fingers tightened against the ceramic of her cup. "Harry communicated with snakes, he didn't control them. Just because two people are linked doesn't mean they operate in the same fashion."

"But to someone who can't understand what's being said, it all looks the same, doesn't it?"

"Did you think he was controlling me and Ron? Was that what it looked like from the outside, where you couldn't hear what was said?"

"Not him." Severus' words were short, brutal.

Hermione forgot to breathe.

Severus reminded her. "That was what changed everything. He gave up control. Voldemort would never have done that."

"My what you must have thought of me," Hermione tried for breezy. "Using my control ever so cleverly."

"I hated you more than I had ever hated anyone." Severus met her eyes. "More than Black or either of the Potter men or even the Dark Lord himself. You, who took it upon yourself to succeed where I had time and again failed, you who in succeeding cemented all of my other failures. I couldn't kill Voldemort and I couldn’t save Harry and as I saw it, you were at the center of all these negative outcomes."

"Something changed." Hermione straightened cautiously, determined not to display any of her crumbling pieces.

"The world changed, Miss Granger, I should think you would have noticed."

"Severus."

His eyes cut into her, shock overlaying the sardonic tint. "The world."

Unsure that it would help anything, Hermione demanded, "My gift. Give me my gift."

"Very well." Severus fished a small object from his pocket and laid it carefully on the floor. Touching his hand to the wand Hermione suspected was hiding in his pocket, he muttered an enlargement spell.

At Hermione's feet, a four foot cobra undulated.

She froze. "I don’t understand. I'm not Harry, I can’t speak to it."

"Not in its language, no. I have found that you have a way of communicating with…things. A way of loving things that others are afraid of or ashamed of or merely don’t want."

Earlier words of his caressed the edge of her throat. "Poisons aren't the evil, rather our uses for them."

"For him, it is merely a defense mechanism."

The cobra climbed Hermione's leg slowly, as though testing to see how far she could get. "Where'd you get her?"

"Snake dealer Faelle knows. She thought I wanted it for its poison. How did you know it was a she?"

"Faelle wasn't entirely wrong, was she? I'm a Muggle-born Magical Creatures expert who was near married to a Parselmouth for two years, I know a bit about snakes."

"It pleases you, then." The statement was too uncertain to be left alone.

The cobra twisted around Hermione's torso in an odd parody of the stained skin beneath. "I'll have to find a way to keep her away from the children, but yes, more than I can say. Truly, you're forgiven for missing my party."

"There was something to forgive?"

"The snake belongs to me, now, Severus. Choose your words carefully."

"Around you?" Severus breathed once, quick and sharp. "Always."

*

It took all of a week for Hermione to note that Fey, her newly christened pet, got into considerably less trouble when in close proximity to Hermione. Abandoning her original plan to allow Fey the run of her and Remus' rooms (now side by side, and linked by a door) during the day time, Hermione requested that Hydrea brew up a large batch of anti-venoms and give them over to the school's medical wing in case of emergencies.

She warned the children, "She'll leave you alone for as long as you pay her the same respect."

Overwhelmingly, they got the message. There were only two incidents of poisoning within the first month of Fey's appearance at every meal and Magical Creature lesson. Both children were healed up, given a stern talking to, three detentions, and a hug. After that, Fey's power seemed to be understood and respected.

Remus for his part, kicked back and waited for Fey to get to know him. Fey caught on pretty quick, seeing that half the time Hermione and Remus' scents were so intermingled as to be nearly indistinguishable, as Verona had ever so tactfully pointed out one morning.

Remus commented, "Leave it to Snape to buy you a pet that poses such danger and yet represents such protection and to not even formally recognize the apparent symbolism."

Hermione ran a finger lightly over Fey's scales. "He recognizes it, he just thinks it's you."

"I doubt he gives me that much credit." The joke was tainted with an undercurrent of hopelessness so strong that Fey coiled tightly under Hermione's hand, receiving the emotion through a second-hand conduit.

"Babe, the only reason he came this last time was to apologize in his rather non-apologetic way for being a complete arse and skipping my party. Note my use of the purposeful 'skip' rather than the accidental 'miss.'"

"Give me leave to be selfish here. You can go see him any time you wish, if he doesn't pop a hello my way when he's here, well then, I'm at his mercy as to when we'll see each other next."

Fey slithered up Hermione's arm and hissed something indecipherable in her ear. "Perhaps you ought to make it clear to him, in the way of plain English, that you wish to see him whenever he visits. Despite his vaunted intelligence, the man has the emotional IQ of a tree, and I'm not speaking of the Whomping Willow. He probably thinks he's doing you a favor with his studious avoidance."

Remus lifted the center of his eyebrows and let his head wobble from side to side. "True enough."

"I won’t do this without both of us involved," Hermione warned. "Stop with this interminable will to self-sacrifice or it will be Severus who suffers. We broke our vows not to share each other together, but I won't have the vow be broken any other way."

"I would let you out of the-"

Hermione snapped, "That's hardly the fucking point. Of course you would. If circumstances proved it necessary, I would let you out of the vow as well. But circumstances have proven anything but necessary, especially providing that Severus wants us both, he's just a bit more unsure of his footing around you. More history will do that to a person."

Remus drooped. "He makes me… You know how you thought that I felt like I wasn't good enough for you because of the lycanthropy?"

Hermione swallowed. "Yes."

"While I logically know that of course I'm good enough for him, there's that part of me that knows that I almost killed him, on purpose or no, and that, despite that, regardless of the fact that he brewed the Wolfsbane more as a favor to Albus than ever to me, he did. He gave me the thing that mattered more than anything else in my existence until Sirius reappeared. I feel like that's a secret we both know and somewhere along the way, he stopped making a verbal point of it, but that doesn't mean it up and disappeared."

Hermione crossed the room to Remus, two feet of Fey swinging from her shoulders. "No, see, that's the thing. The secret was never there. Severus created it with his words and his bitterness, and the moment the latter healed and the former dried up the 'secret' was gone, no more tangible than the words upon which it was built. For every mistake you have made at Severus's expense, he has made one at yours, and he, well, he knows it as much as he knows anything in this whole situation. Leaves something to be desired, but he's several kilometers ahead of you. We're just waiting for you to catch up now. My patience is wearing, love."

Remus leaned forward in his sitting position, resting his head against Hermione's stomach. "I'll see if I can pick up the pace."

Hermione held his head to her and let him know without further conversation that patience or no, she would wait until eternity had long since come and gone.

*

Hermione wondered if delivering the Wolfsbane personally had become a habit for Severus, since he brought it the next month despite there being absolutely no changes to it, nor any reason for him to go out of his way. Somewhat sheepishly, he offered Zev and Remus a bag of ice mice. "If you can deal with the rather inane chattering resultant of eating one, it will most likely clear the taste."

Remus took three, and let Zev take the rest of the bag back to his dormmates. He downed the first one, taking the second two a bit more slowly. When his teeth had calmed he leaned his head back, kissing Hermione, who bent over to meet his mouth at a somewhat odd angle. "How's my breath?"

"Icy, why?"

As it was Remus's habit to show, not tell, it didn't surprise her when he got up and walked away. It did surprise her when he went to his tiptoes and kissed Severus, mouth-to-mouth, lip-to-lip, and when Severus gasped in shock, just a bit of tongue-to-tongue. Remus pulled back just soon enough for Severus to still be standing perfectly still, as though trying to ward off attack by not calling attention to himself.

Remus sat back down where he had been the moment before, in between the v that Hermione's legs created by dangling from the bed. "Quick enough for you?"

"Sh, we'll talk when he's done killing us." Hermione kept eye contact with Severus religiously, as though by that alone she could halt whatever reaction would eventually melt through his limbs and change everything.

When the subtle altering of his position came, the words that accompanied it were not what Hermione had been expecting. "Your breath is quite nice, actually. I take it the mice worked?"

"The perfect antidote," Remus opined.

"A bad taste is hardly equivalent to poison," Severus scoffed.

"I'm letting you play the role of hero Severus, for once, just fucking go along." There was no scorn or anger in Remus's request, only intimate knowledge of what being a hero meant and why someone would run from it and the fact that Remus wasn't allowing Severus the option of flight.

"And what, be your once a month trick? The person you show a good time for a bit of lobalug venom and cactus leaves?"

"But then what would I be getting out of it?" Hermione controlled words that wanted to burn out of her mouth as spite.

"You're quite the clever girl, I'd imagine any two male bodies will do quite well as substitutes in your nighttime fantasies of lovers lost."

In between her legs, Remus' muscles hardened to the consistency of steel. Hermione swallowed at bile that continuously threatened to purge its way out. Severus whispered, "That was cruel, and not for me to say."

Hermione wasn't precisely a believer in the adage that one cruel turn deserves another but the time for turning the other cheek had long passed. "If I wanted two people to stand in for what you think are my fantasies, you, Severus Snape, would hardly be one of them. You who railed against the unfairness of Harry's and my mere existence for seven years, you who saw fit to insult my chosen world and community out of petty fear, you who even now cannot just look at me and the man I love and accept what we want.

"Harry and Ron are irreplaceable. For over two years I lived my life believing that I was as good as dead. But I wasn't, I was just healing, waiting for Remus and Zev and the things that would make me remember how to live, and to my complete and utter horror at the time, your antagonism, your pain, your buried humanity was part of what called me back.

"Don't fucking speak to me about substitution when you never once saw Harry as anything other than Potter, a derivative object of the original article. And don't even think to throw your fear in our faces and presume that it will get you somewhere, because it won’t. Be as Slytherin as you choose, Gryffindor rashness is a thing of necessity sometimes. Happiness cannot always be planned. I'm sorry if we weren't what you were hoping for, a once broken mudblood girl and a werewolf, but this is all we are and we're happy with it. We were thinking that maybe you could be too. We might've been wrong."

If he had spit back at her, railed on, pivoted about and stomped out, she would have stoked her own fire and danced with his flames. He looked away from her. "At the very least, a once broken mudblood girl and a werewolf are better than a still-broken ex-Death Eater with greasy hair and a disagreeable temperment."

Remus laughed into Hermione's leg. "What gives you the right to throw aside our epitaphs as unimportant and then disallow us to do the same with your own? Arrogant prick."

"Flea infested mongrel."

"Overgrown bat."

"Psychotic hose beast."

"Vampire wannabe."

"As amusing as this is," Hermione interjected, and actually, it kind of was, "can we assume that the sticks and stones marathon is the equivalent of the two of you acknowledging each others' points?"

Severus made an elegant gesture of agreement with his hand and Remus mumbled a bit before nodding his head. Hermione didn't push her luck. "Give us a try, Severus. If we disappoint you, then at least we'll have been no different from everyone and everything else in your past." She winced inside at the thought, but kept her eyes bargain-hard.

"And you can probably seek your revenge by getting the school shut down and re-condemning over a hundred people to hell-on-earth," Remus put in, possibly as incentive. "I've heard werewolves aren’t very popular."

Severus snapped, "I hadn't actually planned on telling people about you. That was a mistake."

"Apology accepted." Remus held up a hand to stop a retort. "Leave it, Severus."

Amazingly, Severus did. "I don’t want you to be like everyone and everything else."

Gryffindor courage swam insistently around the edges of Hermione's heart. "I'm not. He's not. But you won’t know that until you let us prove it."

What followed the statement was the longest silence Hermione had ever waited out in her life. Severus ended it by decompressing his lips. "I suppose the gauntlet has been thrown down then."

He turned and left, thankfully without smacking either of them in the face with kid gloves.

*

Severus walked out of the fireplace again two days later on the eve of the first full. Nobody in the place was looking their best, the werewolves all pale and tired and ready for the whole thing to be over. He arrived at dinner time, when everyone was trying their best to get something down, knowing that privation never helped matters.

He headed up to the faculty table, stopping by Zev to say something that made the boy smile cautiously. He reached his destination and conjured a chair, sitting back a ways, in between Hermione and Remus. Remus snarked, "If you came for a quickie, you're cutting it kinda close."

Hermione swallowed her laughter. "Not to point out the obvious, but this is a phenomenally bad time."

"Lockhart's effort even combined with mine must have been more dismal than I remember." Severus stole some of her water, refilling the glass when he was through.

"Whatever are you going on about?" Hermione put a hand protectively around the water glass, as though to guard it from wandering maniacs.

"A duel, Miss Granger, generally involves more than one participant."

Hermione wondered if he'd slipped her a Muting Hex, since nothing seemed to want to work its way past her lips. Except, "Would you stop calling me that? It makes me feel like I'm in some kind of dirty role play. Not that I'm opposed to that, or anything, but with boundaries."

"Calling you… Oh, Miss Granger. Well, I was instructing you," Severus defended himself.

"And I have no doubt that once I get you where I want you I'll be instructing you from sunset to sunrise, but I have no intention of ever calling you Mr. Snape." I'll take your Muting Hex and up you an Asphyxiation Hex, Hermione thought, watching the way his breath literally went in once and didn't come back out.

When it did manage to rush back out it was in the form of a word. "Right." Pausing to breathe in once, "Hermione it is."

"Oo, oo, can I be Remus?" Remus bounced a little for effect.

"Don't push your luck, Lupin."

Hermione distracted them from their not-yet-begun bickering, "This is your part of the duel then?"

"It's important, wouldn't you say, that I'm able to handle the transformation?"

Remus' eyes skimmed the Great Hall. "Maybe this isn’t the best way for this. There are over a hundred of us, Severus."

"Minerva informs me that a cadre of non-werewolf humans come every month to help out, that nothing has yet gone wrong and that it is her opinion that something would have to go wrong with every single batch of Wolfsbane, or at least a majority of those taken for someone to get hurt, as the wolves who are on the Bane would protect the humans from those who desired to kill them." The whole monologue would have been more convincing had Severus's voice been just a smidge less controlled. The next part rang true, however, "You'll forgive me if I find it hard to believe I could incorrectly prepare so many potions at one time."

Hermione figured she could forgive him a lot of things, his rather validated arrogance not being the least among them. "I'll stay in my human form tonight. I can probably talk Hydrea into doing so as well." Coming to face one of his greatest fears for their sake was one thing, being left basically alone to do so was another.

"Your being in present form will suffice, you needn't bother Miss Jigger."

"But we have so much fun bothering her," Remus lamented.

"Cretin of a defective Gryffindor."

"Sweetheart of a Slytherin."

Severus shuddered. Remus snickered. Hermione cut her meat into very tiny pieces and ate them, one at a time.

*

Severus' eyes were blank. Hermione ventured, "All right?"

"I suppose you're used to it," Severus' words were so clipped as to be nearly indecipherable.

"Used to-" Hermione remembered her first time watching the change, looking on as bones snapped apart, melting and molding and twisting in new directions. "Oh, well, yes. This is better, though, it was worse when they screamed and fought. Now it's just a bit of crackling and all's well."

"Mm."

Hermione sensed that he didn't exactly agree. "It's just part of him, Severus."

The him in question was eyeing the two still-human forms as though asking for permission. Hermione bent down and he trotted to her, Zev's smaller, pup-like figure nearly treading on Remus's tail as he scrambled along. Severus stood still, obviously working not to move back from the two wolves. Hermione could sympathize. On a logical level she knew the werewolves were ugly. Too large to be natural wolves, too many sharp teeth, eerie yellow eyes and wads of coarse, woolen fur -- combined, the features did not make for an attractive animal.

She hadn’t noticed in a while.

No sooner had he gotten an obligatory pet 'n rub from Hermione, Zev was off, bounding over to his friends, ready to play. Remus stayed where he was. Hermione sat all the way down, bringing her legs out in front of her. He laid his head down on one and stared balefully at Severus, who took it as an invitation to sit, but didn't move to touch Remus.

"You saw him, didn't you, that night in your third year?"

Remus' ears perked ever so slightly. Hermione brushed a calming hand over them. "Remus in this form? Yes, I did."

"Yet you remained unafraid." There was shame in the declaration, an awareness of his own failings.

"The wolf wasn't what scared you," Hermione guessed.

"Do tell."

"If someone I had wanted to be friends with…still wanted to be friends with? Had done that to me- Fears are oft times more ephemeral than their triggers show them to be."

"Insightful, Miss-" Severus stuttered, "Hermione."

Hermione smirked. "I'm called that, on occasion."

Severus leaned into kiss her, pulling back nearly the second their lips met. "That can hardly be what you were looking for this evening."

Hermione's lips tasted unfamiliar. "I very rarely go into relationships looking for something."

Remus licked her hand in consolation.

She scratched behind his ear. Her "thanks, babe," was dry and she kept her eyes on Severus as she said it.

Severus reached out, tentatively placing his hand atop Remus's head. "Not very soft, are they?"

"Not particularly." Hermione scratched a path down Remus's back. He made slight growling sounds and Severus pulled his hand away. Hermione was confused for a second before she realized, "Oh, those are just his contented sounds."

He made a sound that from a dog would have been whimpering but from a werewolf was just screeching. "He's sorry," she translated.

Severus replaced his hand. Hermione took it in her own and brought it down the length of Remus. "He's staying still for you. Normally he rolls around so that I can pet everywhere."

Experimentally, Severus scratched behind the ear that Hermione hadn't taken care of earlier. Remus's eyes rolled up and he let his head droop into Severus's palm. Severus didn't drop it.

Hermione wrapped a hand around Remus's tail to keep it from whipping her upper body.

*

The daytime half of WAC -- Katie, Oliver, Zach, Millicent and Luna -- showed up in the early morning, just as the second transformation was occurring. Luna walked across a room littered with bodies half-way to human and greeted the two waiting for Remus. "Hello, Professor."

She hugged Hermione.

Severus considered her. He always came off as a bit taken aback by her total lack of concern at his presence. She had never been much bothered by him as a student either. "Miss Lovegood."

Remus had completed the transformation and was reaching a hand up to Hermione, who hauled him upward. Mid-haul she twisted her head, "Luna, have you spotted Zev?"

Luna swiveled around. "Corner, already asleep. I'll make sure he gets to a bed."

"Thanks, luv." Hermione wrapped one of Remus' arms around her shoulder. To her surprise, she felt him get lighter, not heavier, and looked over to see Severus appropriating Remus's other arm and shifting the weight onto himself.

"To bed," Luna ordered and it would have been maternal and caring if not for the gleam of licentiousness shining from her every pore.

Hermione let it go. It was no good refuting Luna anyhow. Unless Hermione could come up with an explanation for what was happening that was one hundred times more outrageous than the truth, Luna could never be convinced. The truth in Hermione's world was usually pretty hard to beat.

The two of them dragged Remus up the stairs and into bed. Hermione covered him up before reaching into her shirt and dragging her bra through her sleeve. "You're staying, right?"

It was cruel, she knew, to act like she expected it when in fact, she expected no such thing. It was even more cruel, she supposed, to drop the bra from her fingers with calculated timing, so that it fell as she was asking.

Severus snapped his eyes away from the spot where the bra had fallen. "I wasn't planning-"

"You've been up all night," Hermione reminded him, slipping out of her trousers. "And you won't rest if you go back to the school, I know you."

"I have classes," he objected, now staring determinedly at the wall.

"You flooed Minerva when you left, yes?"

Severus gave her a look that clearly said, "I cannot believe you just asked me that question."

"Right. Then she knows where you are and she'll figure it out when you don't show back up. Smarter than she acts, that one." Hermione stepped out of her panties and left them where they lay, crawling into the bed. "You're no good to the students this way."

When he didn't move she reworded, "You’re no good to Minerva this way."

"I could go for nearly a week at a time without sleeping when you were in your school years."

"Was that the problem? Sleep deprivation? Dean'll be so disappointed, his money was on you needing a worthwhile shag."

"I'll thank Mr. Thomas to keep his speculations about my sex life to himself next time I see him."

"You'll do no such thing. You'd rather be beaten to death with a Quidditch broom by your most incompetent student in front of a room full of Lucius Malfoy clones."

"You're hardly making a case for why I would actually want to climb into bed with you and a man whose skin is looking to be more of flimsy disguise than ever before."

"You were right," Hermione gave him, "it was sleep deprivation."

"Come to your senses and admitted this isn't actually what you want, then?" He took a step toward the door.

"Sod off, git. Not literally," she amended, as he began to take her at her word. "Severus."

"Hermione."

"You made it nearly a week at a time with the help of magically amplified barbiturates and Charm abuse. There were signs all over you if someone just knew where to look."

Softly, he corrected her, "Cared enough to look."

"You give me too much credit. I was still a love stupid teenager at the time."

"A teenager in love, perhaps." He took a deep breath. "Never stupid."

"Sleep with us. We're all tired. Trust me, if he wasn't ten times past gone he'd have lambasted you for the skin comment."

"I was a bit surprised to have gotten by with that one." He had the grace to let her see that he was ashamed.

"There were bigger issues at hand than your well-honed ability for distraction."

"I didn't mean it."

"I wouldn't still be waiting for you to climb bloody well in if you had."

He let the words sink into the wooden walls before bringing a hand to his neck, popping buttons from their place, one, two, three at a time, not hurriedly but in the way of someone who has long done the exact same thing time and again and again. Quickly enough he was in his trousers and short sleeves.

Hermione held onto consciousness long enough to feel him climb in next to her, lay close enough as to be touching, but not actually take the initiative to touch, wrap around her, pull her to him. Hermione, who couldn't go for a week without sleep, determined that she could fight that battle when she had better mental ammunition.

*

Severus was gone by the time she woke up, but he had left a note, a scrap of parchment on the nightstand, pointed out by Fey, who had just molted, and obviously wanted someone to preen over her. Hermione ran a hand from Fey's head as far as she could reach down the length of her, reveling in the feel of the brand new skin. "Pretty Fey."

The note promised, "Can't return this evening or the next, would like to pass the weekend there, owl to alert me of any problems with this plan. -Severus."

Remus rolled over onto her legs and eyed the note blearily, "What'd our favorite Mr. Grumpy Pants have to say for himself?"

"Mind a weekend visitor?"

"The whole weekend?" Remus leaned back to look up at her and his head fell off her lap. "Surely you jest."

"Have I ever told you you become a bit of a nutter after changes?"

"You may have mentioned it. Once or twice." Remus stretched out, arms flung above his head, skin stretching over ribs and hips, neck thrown back. Hermione couldn't help bending for a lick at the skin right next to his adam's apple. It was prickly with unshaved hair and salty with the residue of sweat, but it tasted human with just a touch of wildness to it. She disguised her second lick as a kiss.

"Stopping so soon?" He put his hand to her cheek as she pulled away.

"It's late. We need to get you fed and potioned." Sometimes, she hated having to be the sensible one.

Reluctantly, Remus rolled off the edge of the bed. He found a robe of his hanging from the back of the door and belted it around his waist. "Did he stay this morning? Once we were up here? I fell asleep before you guys were done playing twenty wisecracks."

"He was next to me when I fell asleep." Hermione left the how long after that, who knows? unvoiced.

Remus went to brush his teeth. Hermione joined him and they scrubbed in silence for a bit. When he had spit and rinsed, Remus ventured, "What did he… Well, I mean obviously he pet me."

Hermione understood the fragmented question. "The actual change shook him up a bit. I forget, but it still looks and sounds a tad disgusting. I told him it was better without the yelling and struggling. I don’t know that he believed me."

"Well," Remus threaded his toothbrush back into its holder, "he's coming back."

The color drained out of Remus's face as he said it, and Hermione dropped her toothbrush on the counter to get hold of him before he fell to the floor. "Remus?"

His fingers clenched at her skin. "Sorry, sorry. Think it just hit me all at once."

"It’s like you said, he's coming back. It's fine." Hermione kissed his forehead.

"I know. Just, quite a bit of room for that to have been one big fuck up, eh?"

"Been holding on to this since he showed up yesterday, have you?"

Remus just leaned closer into her.

"We can’t allow him to run, luv. Not even for reasons that we might think are valid. That's part of the challenge."

"One would almost think he's doing a better job at that than we are."

Hermione swallowed down her growl of frustration. "Only because we can't go to him."

"I can't go to him," Remus corrected.

"We can't," Hermione stressed. "If you can't go with me, there's no we, am I correct?"

"Your impeccable knowledge of the British language once again does in any chance I might have at squabbling with you."

"Mm. Up to seeing what Ginny's cooked up this evening?" It was a rhetorical question and they both knew it. Transformation was exhausting enough without going into it half-starved. Remus knew this more intimately than most.

"Think we can spare five minutes? I want to do that thing where we snog like randy teenagers and then have everyone look at us jealously because we appear well shagged."

Hermione threw her eyes to the clock on the wall. "If you eat quickly, probably ten."

"I'll inhale." With a palm under her chin and fingers on the back of her neck, he drew her lips up to his.

*

Friday night, when everything was quiet, the staff lounging in the kitchen and their private rooms, the students in their common rooms and beds, Severus rounded into the kitchen, "Finally, I've been looking everywhere."

"Told you we should have left a note on our door," Hermione stuck her tongue out at Remus.

"A little challenge never hurt anyone," Remus pecked her lips and got up to greet Severus the same way. "Evening."

Severus allowed himself to be pecked. "How are you feeling?"

"Alluring," Remus teased.

Hermione shoved him lightly out of the way and claimed her own kiss, this one on Severus's cheek. "Long day?"

"There were potions to be bottled before I left." It sounded like an apology.

One for which she hadn't been asking. "More a conversation starter, luv."

There was a sliver of embarrassment in his body language. "Yes, professor."

"Kinky," Remus opined with an easy smile.

Hermione pinched him. The smile turned roguish. She gave Severus a look that very clearly read, see, this is what I have to put up with day in and day out. Severus' lips quirked, "Your definition of kink must be somewhat tamer than mine, Lupin."

"Remus," Hermione corrected. "He's no more your nemesis than I your student."

"I'll do my best," Severus negotiated.

Hermione drolly let him know that she held him to a higher standard, "That's all we can really ask of anyone, isn't it?"

She remembered a professor who asked for more than she had and threw away everything she gave without a backward glance.

He evidently did as well. "Remus, then."

Remus's hand came to rest on her hip. She felt the pull of his own off-center gravity and realized that Remus hadn't completely believed that little note of Severus's. Harry and Ron had always believed in things for her, things she knew couldn't possibly true, her mind too stuffed with facts that killed fancy. It wasn't at all an unpleasant change to find that fancy could exist in spite of the truths of the world, of evil, of reality, of pain.

Severus's hand came to rest over Remus's, his longer fingers brushing the fabric of her robe, and that wasn't an unpleasant change, either, being the center rather than the third. His hand fell away, but the communication contained in its touch remained.

"Ginny sent up banana cream pie." Hermione wasn't entirely sure how Ginny had acquired the knowledge of Severus's favorite pie, she wouldn't have even guessed at the man himself knowing such a thing. Ginny, though, as much as Nymph, had kept Hermione alive for two long years, and Hermione knew better than to put anything past either woman.

"Sounds a treat best served up with coffee." Remus pressed tightly in on her skin before taking his hand away, heading to the coffee machine.

Hermione made sure of her own balance before heading to the pantry with the permanent Cooling Charm on it to retrieve the pie. She popped the cover to make sure her note, "Severus makes the Wolfsbane, do you really want to anger him?" had been heeded. It had, the pie was still in its full and original state of being.

Severus grabbed plates and forks without having to ask where things were. He wouldn't allow Hermione use of the knife, "You always cut my pieces too small."

"Excuse me for wanting you not to die of high cholesterol with a mouth full of rotted teeth."

Remus took the piece that Severus had obviously carved out for himself, "Bossy, isn't she?"

Severus drew his wand and levitated the plate back to himself, catching Remus with a hex that caused his fingers to hang limp for several minutes as revenge. "Were you trying to intimate you wanted a piece as large as mine?"

"Rather that I wanted your piece."

In punishment for the horrid innuendo, Hermione stole the piece Severus intended for Remus, slightly larger even, than Severus's.

Severus just kept cutting a third. "I thought you were worried about rotting teeth and blocked arteries?"

"Why should I? I'm sure the two of you will kill me long before the side effects of egg-and-butter-heavy banana cream pie."

Severus stole a forkful off the edge of her slice, "Just in case." Remus waved his wrists, his fingers lopping up and down, to signal his own willingness to eat some pie for the sake of her health and well-being.

"That's so very sweet of the both of you." Hermione made sure to take a second piece when she was done.

*

Hermione awoke to an empty bed in the late hours of Saturday night. Considering that she'd gone to bed with not one, but two bedmates, this caught her as odd. Slipping a robe over the nightie she'd worn as concession to Severus's discomfort at her nudity, she made her way to the kitchens, only to find them empty. She checked Zev's dorm, the faculty lounge, the library, the Potions classroom and laboratory, the Defence classroom and the Great Hall. Finally, on a whim, she made her way out to the Quidditch pitch.

The moon was still pretty large and Hermione could see the two figures whirling around each other at a distance. She hid herself behind the bleachers, afraid that if she were spotted they would stop. Remus held himself as he always did when on a broom, loosely, as though not just in the wind but part of the wind. Severus leaned in close on his, but it didn't seem to be about fear, the way it had been those few times when Hermione had bothered to mount a broom. Rather, it seemed to be about the enormous speed he picked up. Hermione had watched Harry play Quidditch for almost seven years and was still surprised by the momentum with which Severus moved. He wasn't a fancy flier like Harry, there were no dips or twirls, not even the figure eights that Remus used to make the children giddy. Just motion, pure and elegant.

Remus, for his part, wasn't showing off either. He followed Severus, circled him, rode alongside him. There was no competition, just two blokes out for a bit of night air. Two friends.

Nearly an hour passed before they came down, and Hermione could barely feel her legs. She forced them to move, numb and frigid beneath her. Remus sensed her first, probably by smell, turning to her. "Are you crazy? It's bloody well cold out here."

She made it to him and he opened up his robe, wrapping the both of them in it. She reasoned, "Wasn't planning on finding the two of you outside."

"Did it occur to you to ask that we stop our activities?" Severus asked.

The truth was, "No."

Before Severus could comment on the sharpness of her decision making process, or whatever he wished to harp about, Remus suggested, "It feels to be about hot cocoa time. Inside all," and began moving, practically carrying her along with him.

Despite the fact that it hadn't been her most intelligent plan to stand in the early November cold with nearly no clothing on, Remus and Severus had been whizzing about at a much higher altitude for all that time and more. Appropriate attire or no, they were all cold.

Remus deposited her in a chair when they reached the kitchen and set to making the cocoa. Severus politely inquired as to whether he could help but was waved away and told to keep Hermione company. He undid the clasps on his heavy winter robe and draped it over her before sitting down. Hermione considered protesting, but the wool was soft and seemed to reach out and pull the cold from her body. She took the gesture as an unthinking moment of chivalry and mused, "I hadn't thought you could fly. I was rather expecting you to be my partner-in-crime, as it is such a crime in this place not to want to strap yourself to the back of a flimsy piece of wood and ride precariously above kilometers of nothing."

Severus' lips tightened. "Sorry to disappoint."

"I'm not disappointed, I'm poking with a measure of tact for you to tell me things about yourself."

"A measure of tact?"

"If you're unwilling to be prodded gently, I have no compunction over being harsher."

Remus joined them at the table, levitating two mugs into their spots in front of Severus and Hermione, cupping his own in his hands. "I used the dark cocoa instead of the bittersweet. I thought, with the way Severus takes his coffee, that might be better."

The dollop of whipped cream he had placed atop Hermione's as a conciliatory measure was not lost on her.

Severus took a careful sip. Instead of saying, "Ah, that's good," or, "Thank you," he began, "I believe I once intimated that my father was addicted to games of chance."

Remus' eyes darkened, but he didn't interrupt, hiding his contempt behind the rim of his cup. Hermione stretched her legs out, resting her feet atop Severus' knees. To her surprise, he did not remove them, instead placing cup-warmed hands over feet. "You told me he lost everything, even your childhood home."

"He would compound his unhappiness at his losses with a rather reckless abuse of substances only acquired in places that make Knockturn look to be respectable."

Remus took another sip. "Did he hurt you?"

The calm menace in his voice made Hermione shudder. She didn't bother to hide the convulsive movement.

"No, never me. I was the heir."

Hermione pushed the cocoa away before the smell could make her sick.

"My mother and my older sister."

Hermione didn’t want to ask, she didn't. "You have an older sister?"

"Had," Severus corrected. "My father. The substances made him violent, uncontrollable. He would ward me in my room and then play with the girls. I think he hated that he couldn't touch me, he used to put an Amplifying Charm on my room so that I could hear them screaming.

"Olleana…he put a curse on her that he couldn't control being as high as he was. The MLE let him go because Caiaphus Malfoy, Lucius's father, paid quite a bit of money to have the whole thing shushed up. We're related, of course, all the old blood families are."

"It explains Lucius's hold over you," Remus murmured.

Snape closed his eyes briefly. "He only thought he owned me."

Hermione worked her hardest to focus. "Tell us about the flying."

"This was before Hogwarts, at least, that's when it started. It continued until both my mother and sister were dead, mother from strain and exhaustion. Mother would come to my room afterward and take down the wards. I couldn't Apparate yet and the closest Healer was kilometers away in the town. I learned to fly at night, when nobody could see. To me it was always a matter of urgency, a calculated risk. I could fly better than Lucius Malfoy and James Potter combined, I just never had the desire to do so."

Remus swallowed audibly. "You should have said. I would never have suggested it."

Severus' fingers pressed gently into her feet. "You are consistently finding ways of making it clear that my childhood scars are just that, scars, ugly but harmless, when I am here."

"Still, there are other things-"

"I enjoyed it," Severus stressed. "There was nowhere to go. It wasn't about anything, not life and death, not goals scored, nothing. It was pleasant."

"All the same," Hermione sensed that Remus's point was not being made, "you have to tell us things. We can't avoid hurting you if we don't know where the dangers of doing so lie."

Severus squeezed her feet too tightly for all of a second and let go. "Of course."

"You mean it?" Remus checked.

"I don’t say things I do not mean, Lu- Remus."

Hermione rolled her eyes and finished her rapidly cooling cocoa.

*

When Severus left on Sunday evening of that first weekend, he stated in a rather unsure tone, "Friday evening, then."

To make sure he understood that the answer to his not-quite question was a stern yes, Hermione made out with him for a good few minutes before passing him, dazed and defenseless, to Remus, who took every advantage of Severus's weakened state that he rightfully could in the middle of the staff lounge. Finally, he very carefully sent Severus off by floo, Hermione calling, "Friday!" from behind him.

On Friday, Severus showed earlier than the previous week, taking dinner with Zev and participating by dint of presence alone in the hours after dinner, which Hermione had mentally termed "family time," since it was the one time of week when her, Remus and Zev always managed to spend more than a few minutes with all three of them together.

At nine Zev plodded off to his dormitory so as to be there by lights out. Severus, Remus and Hermione lingered in the staff lounge allowing Severus and Hydrea to hash out their difference of opinions on one of the latest articles in a leading potions journal. Remus played chess with Ruel, and Hermione took the down time to read one of the many books she'd received for her birthday.

Ruel won the chess game and stood up to collect Hydrea with a, "I'm to bed, girl."

She kissed Severus on the cheek. "That's my cue. We'll finish this later."

Severus had been in mid-sentence and was obviously about to refute her abrupt dismissal until Hermione slid her head underneath his chin, threading her arms about his waist. His breathing quickened ever so slightly before returning to normal. Slowly, as though any change in stance might scare her off, he let his arms fall around her, one stroking the length of her back.

Hermione felt herself being driven into Severus as Remus came up from behind her and hooked his arms around the both of them. He whispered, "You're holding him, he's letting himself be held."

"By both of us."

"Whatever you two are plotting, can it possibly wait until morning?" Severus's breath smelled of the dark coffee Hermione suspected he drank entirely too much of in the stead of sleep.

"You prefer it during daylight?" Remus purred.

Hermione laughed into Severus's chest. She felt the slight tremble beneath her chest, a tremble that suggested he was holding onto laughter of his own. His only comment was, "Incorrigible beast."

"Turns you on, does it?" Remus goaded. "Who knew you were such a hidden sex kitten?"

The thought of Severus as anything small and innocuous made Hermione's eyes water from sheer mirth. "Enough with the forechat, if we're going to do this, let's be somewhere where we can."

Remus started to ask, "What's wrong with-" but Hermione knew him too well, "Tawdry exhibitionist. The room, move."

Reluctantly, Remus pulled back and did as he was told. Hermione caught Severus's hand as she was extricating herself and held it loosely, keeping him to her at the same time as she allowed him his freedom should he choose to take it. He didn't.

When safely inside the room, Hermione reached up with her unoccupied hands and undid the clasp holding her hair atop her head. It fell in tightly wound curls, still forming to the shape of the clasp. Severus took his hand back, bringing it up to touch a curl, pull it gently down and allow it to bounce back up. His hand dropped to his side.

Remus approached him from behind, robe and shirt having been thrown off, and wrapped his arms around Severus's midsection. Severus stiffened a fraction.

Hermione noticed. "Severus?"

"I apologize for my…inexpertise. It has been some years since my last sexual liaison and even then, events were anything other than permanent."

Which answered the sixty-four million galleon question: was Severus as formal in a sexual situation as he was in every other kind? Hermione affected her straightest face. "That's all right, Remus and I have been practicing on each other, we'll compensate."

For a second, Severus looked at her as though perhaps now was the time to utter the words, "St. Mungo's" and "visit" all in one sentence. Then he caught on and did something so out of character Hermione was tempted to check for signs of polyjuice.

He laughed.

His laughter cued Remus's laughter, and, when she was over being shocked, Hermione's. By the time they were done, Remus had pulled away from Severus to hold at his own midsection, Severus had brought a hand to his heart, and Hermione was wiping tears from her face.

Remus tottered over to the bed. "Evidently a bit of comic relief was badly needed."

Severus walked to Hermione on legs that seemed only a bit less solid than normal. "You've been practicing, you say?"

"Regularly," Hermione responded, widening her eyes and affecting the same kind of practice-makes-perfect goody-goody expression she used to get when she knew the answer to something nobody else in the class knew.

"I don’t suppose that does you any good if you never get to show off the skills acquired." Severus swept a hand over her shoulder, to hold onto her neck.

"None at all," Hermione agreed, walking carefully backward until her calves met the bed. Severus, still cupping her neck, followed.

Remus tugged at Severus's cloak, bringing him to sit in the middle of Remus and Hermione. Hermione twisted around slightly, beginning to work at the cadre of buttons. She got far enough to expose his neck and waited as Remus dipped in, putting his lips right next to Severus's adam's apple. He withdrew rather quickly, "All right, now the rest."

Hermione obeyed, button by button. At the very last, she pushed the robe from Severus' shoulders and Sent it across the room to a chair. She repeated the process patiently with his shirt, also inundated with buttons. Remus dropped to the floor and unlaced Severus' boots, tugging them from each foot. Hermione plucked at the buttons keeping Severus's trousers up and Remus divested him of them and then, carefully, his shorts.

Not allowing him time to think about his nakedness, Hermione demanded, "Me."

Severus waited, but Remus didn't move from the floor, so he put a tentative hand at her throat and undid the clasp keeping her robe on. She shook it off and Sent it to lay with his robe. She wore a jumper beneath and he pulled it fluidly over her head. She turned so he wouldn't have to undo the clasp on her bra blindly. There was still a bit of fumbling, but he got it quickly enough. He undid the buttons on her trousers and then looked to Remus for assistance. Remus, his eyes so dark as to be nearly brown hooked his fingers under the rim of her panties and tugged them off with the trousers. He stood and unhooked his own trousers, shedding them and the shorts underneath hastily.

Hermione inched her way up the bed and waited for two bodies to follow her. She wasn't disappointed. She lay on her side, pulling Severus up against her. She kissed him, one hand twined in his hair, the other thrown over him, tracing patterns on his back. In between kisses, he inquired, "What do you desire?"

"Anything." Kiss. "This." Kiss.

Hermione felt Remus's hand, warm and steady, slide in between her thighs. Her breath caught as he found her clitoris and she knew Severus was receiving similar treatment as the hand massaging her breast suddenly tightened. "Sweetheart," she breathed.

"Sorry," he loosened his fingers.

Remus continued with his ministrations. Severus reclaimed his mouth and lowered it to the breast he had abused. Hermione forgave him with the first touch of his tongue to her nipple. Remus pushed at her hip so that she lay flat. He lifted Severus off her left breast, replacing him on the right one and taking the left for himself. Hermione arched up with a little cry. "Oh, oh. Oh."

Severus' fingers crawled down to where Remus' had so recently deserted and worked her clitoris until she would have begged him to stop, given the breath. He drove two fingers deep insider her, his thumb still circling her clitoris and she allowed the crest of orgasm to take over, spiraling through her and fleeing, leaving her weak and slightly disoriented. From somewhere she heard Remus' amused, "Leave her to recover a bit, yeah?"

There was a press of warm flesh as he leaned over her to kiss Severus. Soon enough he was sliding over her, down Severus, far enough to tongue Severus' balls before swallowing one. Severus found her hand and squeezed, hard enough to ground her. She squeezed back, "Relax, love."

Remus snuck from one ball to the other. Hermione watched Severus' toes curl. "Remus, let up."

Remus withdrew, only to swipe his tongue over the head of Severus's cock. Hermione brought his hand up her mouth and bit lightly at the knuckles, soothing over the sting with her tongue. Remus wrapped a hand around the base of Severus's cock and took the rest into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking once, long and hard, before withdrawing.

Severus managed, "Cocktease."

Remus surged up and kissed him, "Saving some for the girl." He rolled away, over Hermione, placing her in the middle again. He took his hand away from her for a second and she glanced back to catch him flicking his wand over her, casting contraceptive spells. He lay the wand back on the nightstand and ran his hand firmly down her back, "Let's, yeah?"

Oh yeah. "Him first."

"Sure," Remus agreed.

Hermione nuzzled her face in Severus's neck, scraping her lips against the skin, up all the way to his mouth. "Just let me?" she whispered in lieu of a kiss.

Severus gave over. "Anything."

Pulling his body flush against hers, she inched up a bit, throwing her leg over his thigh and sinking onto his cock. It was a bit awkward at the angle she was at and she pushed at him, rolling him over onto his back. When she was lying with her cheek resting on his chest, his cock firmly inside her, she murmured, "Hold on, hold on."

He bit out, "To what, exactly?"

Her laugh was a bit breathless, "Just tell us if this is too much."

As if that had been his cue, Remus slid a heavily lubricated finger inside her ass. As many experiences as Hermione had tested out with Ron and Harry, the role-playing, the S&M, B&D, voyeurism, dirty talking, cross-dressing, everything, her favorite, as she had finally confided to Remus late into their sexual forays, had been the simple act of being in between the two men. They would switch sides, although she knew that secretly, Harry had preferred her from behind, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the safety of being unable to escape, the rhythm of the two meeting each other inside of her. Remus slid a second finger in and twisted and Hermione was very near to done with being patient. "Three, Remus."

He obeyed, quickening his motions. She let him work it around for a few seconds before giving in to the need to growl, "Enough."

She was glad that Remus had been with Sirius enough to hear the true need in that one sound. He sank into her with a bit of effort. She widened her legs, falling further than all the way onto Severus, hissing, "Yes."

When Remus's chest was flat against her back, his fingers spread over her hips, touching Severus', she allowed for the world to coalesce back from its sheer white state and made sure, "Severus?"

"Heavy," he gasped.

"All right, hang on," she repeated. She nudged her shoulder blades into Remus, who carefully rolled onto his side, taking her with him. She, in turn, took Severus. When they were settled, she muttered an insistent, "Move."

They listened, each in their own way. Severus with rocking, shallow thrusts, almost as if he were afraid to go too far, Remus with deep strokes that made her pant and laugh a shallow, shocked laugh. Remus brought his hands in between her and Severus, massaging at her breasts as Severus wound his arms all the way behind Remus, cupping his ass, bringing him in more forcefully with each thrust.

Remus came first, stiffening and squeezing at her breasts, whimpering a bit. The sounds were evidently too much for Severus, who followed shortly, pulling Remus in so tight Hermione would have been worried about suffocating had it not felt so damn good.

Severus withdrew when he was done, commanding Remus to, "Stay." He pushed himself down a bit and dragged his tongue over her clitoris, down, stabbing it up and inside her. Shoving herself back onto Remus, rocking forward into Severus, she keened sharply and came.

It took a while for her breathing to even out, and the shuddering to lessen to a mere tremble. Remus lifted her off of him, grabbing at his wand for a second time and Cleansing all of them. He reached down and tugged at Severus's hair gently, "Up."

Severus managed to inch back up the bed, his head barely making it to the pillow. Hermione pulled him to her before reaching down to draw the covers up over the three of them. Remus settled against her back. In her last moment of consciousness, she strung together a, "Sweet dreams."

*
Adult
*

"Are you mad at me, is that what this is?"

Hermione's head shot up from her second years' sketchings of what were supposed to be Horklumps(12). "Why? What am I doing to make you think that?"

Remus threw his quill aside. "You've been brooding over something ever since Severus left, and you won't allow me in on it."

Well and truly caught, Hermione pushed a sound of frustration through her front teeth. "I just didn't want to get you as riled up about the issue as I already am."

"Tell."

"All right, but you have to listen all the way through, promise?"

Remus flattened his lips together. "Mmhm."

"I want another tattoo, which normally wouldn't be an issue, I would hop off to my place, have it done, be back by dinner, that sort of thing. It's different this time, though, because," Hermione tapped her heel nervously against the floor, "because it's not the experience I want so much as the end result, you get it?"

Remus nodded.

"My skin boasts of you and Zev, I won't leave Severus out of that, but I don't want to do this alone. It hurts and I want you to hold me but you can't because you can't leave here and the likelihood of me getting someone who knows how to do this to come here seems rather small."

Hermione's hands had clenched into tight, shaking fists. Remus took one in both his hands. "Can I speak now?"

Hermione broke into a small, unhappy smile. "Chitter away."

"Would that I could, love, you know that. Being that things are otherwise, have you spoken to Gin or Nymph? You know either one would do this for you in a heartbeat."

Hermione laid her head down atop their hands. Feeling raw and just a bit petulant she said, "They're not you."

"One of these days you'll win all your fights and the only person who will have the right to tell me where I can and cannot go will be you."

"You don’t believe that."

"I didn't," Remus admitted. "Then you made way for Severus and myself to relearn the motions and commitments of friendship. You made him laugh. You did things that I would have told anyone who'd asked were impossible. I'm allowed to change my vote of confidence."

"He was waiting for us," Hermione downplayed her role.

"We were waiting for him, the whole thing still took work."

Hermione couldn’t refute either part of that statement, so she remained silent.

"Where are you putting his name?" Remus finally asked.

"I'm not," she side-stepped.

"Then what?"

"The ingredients of the current Wolfsbane, wrapped around my right bicep as far down as it needs to go. I think he'll like that more. Severus wasn't something he even chose for himself, but the Bane was his child through and through."

Remus wriggled one of his hands free to stroke at her hair. "Add 'ice mice' last."

"Maybe."

"It'll be brilliant."

"I hope."

"I'm glad," Remus's breath caught, "I'm glad you wanted me to be with you, even if I can't. I wouldn't…well, just, make sure they give you the Numbing Potion, yes?"

"Yes, da," Hermione mocked.

"Can I show it off to him?" Remus asked in a whisper. "Undrape you this time, pull his attention toward it? I can only imagine his face. I can't imagine anyone's ever done anything quite like it for him. Nobody had for me."

Relieved that he had found some part of the experience to claim for himself, Hermione acquiesced. "Undraping, eh? I feel like a piece of furniture."

"Expensive, but comfortable," Remus told her.

"You'd best shut that hole of yours up while you're still ahead."

"How long ago was that?" Remus wanted to know.

Hermione wondered if there ever had been such a time. If there had, she didn't really want to remember it.

*

Hermione added the ice mice. Her artist, Trevor, the same who had been taking care of her ever since that first lightening bolt, perused the list of ingredients and laughed when he came to that one.

"Ice mice? They have to eat candy to keep from becoming all-" He curled his fingers up in the imitation of claws.

Hermione was glad he didn't distort his face, or use the word 'monsters' or act like the candy kept them from turning into rampaging killers. "It just helps with the taste."

"Right." He handed her a vial. "Good thing you mentioned wanting that ahead of time. I wouldn't normally've had one on hand for you."

Hermione drank the Numbing Potion down. She set the vial aside in the second before her fingers lost feeling, the numbness spreading from her throat outward. Behind her, someone giggled (Nymph?) as she fell back against the cushioned chair in which she was sitting. There was a slight pressure on her left arm and she flopped her head to see Nymph standing there, one hand wrapped tightly around the arm.

"Working then?" Nymph wanted to know.

"Uuu," Hermione did her best to respond in the affirmative.

"Sure yes, that," Trevor laughed. She felt pressure on her right arm and summoned the requisite energy to turn her face in that direction.

Trevor's lips moved as he set the fire wand to her arm, weaving the Binding Magic that made the tattoos so much more desirable than the normative needle-inflicted skin art. Fire tattoos were actually wound into a person's magical essence, it was why the Ministry had chosen them as the preferable type of registry tattoo. In a person who chose to have the tattoo placed on her, the magic exchange merely made the art more lustrous, more alive than most body-art. In Hermione, it heightened her awareness of her body, its strengths and weakness, limitations and allowances.

Hermione watched the fire cut into her skin, not completely sure of what to do with her own sense of removal. She was so used to being intimately connected with the process, holding the pain in and taking it as part of the marking. For a brief, frightening moment she missed the sharp burn, the adrenal reaction it brought in its wake.

Trevor etched the L for the lobalug venom, though, curved and lovely, and Hermione watched the red of the fire calm, dying into the black burn that would heal into a tattoo. The actual movement of Trevor's hands, the process of the art came together for her in a way it had never been able to before.

When it had been about the pain, an end to a means, time had always seemed indeterminate. The pain went on forever and not nearly long enough, and the world was cocooned within that experience.

Time stretched and folded without the pain, but not in the same way at all. Now the minutes were determined by the caress of the fire, doing nothing more than tickling at her skin even as it charred and smoldered and scarred. Hours were made as fluid as the words being transcribed onto her, words that meant, "I, I love, I love you," even as they said, "…venom, ground mimbletonius, scalded nightroot…"

Trevor finished up, immersing the wounds in a Keeping Potion and dressing them. When he spello-taped the last of the bandage shut he ruffled her hair, "Just wait a bit, girl. It wears off quickly."

Nymph chatted with Trevor, probably thanked him, while Hermione waited for her body to return to her keeping. When it did the low throb of pain that greeted her was neither welcome nor unwelcome, merely familiar. "Nymph, baby."

Alerted to Hermione's re-emergence by the clarity of her words, Nymph asked, "Ready to be gone?"

"Remus," Hermione answered.

Nymph pulled her up from the chair by her left arm, clasping it tightly as they Apparated to the edge of the wards and further, as she accompanied Hermione all the way back into the school. They trudged up the stairs to find Ginny entertaining Remus and Zev in Hermione's room.

Remus didn't waste a minute, sweeping her off her feet once she was in the door, laying her down on their bed. Zev paced at the edge of the bed, as though afraid to move her perch even the slightest of inches. "Zev, honey, Remus is being dramatic, I'm perfectly fine."

Zev climbed onto the bed, each landing of his hands and knees ever-so-light. He cuddled up on her left, wrapping lengthening fingers around the Porlock tattoo. It made her dizzy, whether from the after-effects of the potion or the sensation of Zev's touch, Remus's stare, Gin and Nymph's ubiquitous friendship, she didn't know. It was as unknown to her as the pain was an old acquaintance, but it swirled in her head, vaguely comforting, and Hermione decided she didn't mind.

Remus leaned over her and kissed her forehead. "Fey's on the headboard, she's been awaiting your return. I'm entrusting your safekeeping to her until I get back from dinner."

"Excellent choice," Hermione murmured. "Bring me food?"

"I want you to sleep."

"I will, and then I'll wake up famished," she guaranteed.

"Midnight snack then, I'll have it when you come 'round."

"I'm done with that, you know, the fire. At least until you can come with me."

"I have a million places to take you before we go there," Remus informed her. "But maybe, just maybe, that will be one of our stops."

She pulled away from the safety of the pain, hooking her fingers in his, straining toward the dangerous and unfamiliar feel of his idealism.

*

Remus had been sent to pull Severus up to the bedroom, tug him inside with the words, "There's something I want you to see."

Hermione was sprawled out over the bed, not a scrap of clothing on her, the room slightly overheated so as to keep her from getting chilled. Remus prompted, "Notice anything different?"

Severus' eyes swept over her, immediately stopping at the new tattoo. Hermione asked, "When did you get to know me so well?"

Severus crossed to the bed where he could skim his fingers lightly over the almost healed skin. Remus snuck up behind him, watching. Severus whispered, "You added me."

Hermione tugged at the sleeve of his robe with her left hand. "Off."

Stunned into obeying easily, Severus stripped. Remus followed suit, climbing in on the other side of the bed. Severus settled down carefully, as awkward as Zev had been about jostling her. Hermione rolled onto him for a kiss. "It's been a full five days and I heal quickly. I would tell you if you were about to hurt me, honestly."

"Why-" Severus asked, "I was fine with, being the third, I suppose. The auxiliary."

Remus sighed wetly against Hermione's back. She shivered slightly, causing Severus to reach down and pull the covers over them. Hermione answered, "Because I suspected you might still think you were the auxiliary, when there isn't one at all."

"You don't get to be the only one who cares in this situation," Remus added, but there was fondness to the rebuke.

Slinking over her favorite post atop the headboard, Fey hissed. Hermione took it to mean, "Even Fey's in agreement on this one, and you gave her to me, she has reasons to be loyal to both of us."

"If we could," Remus spoke in a small voice, "we would come to you sometimes. It's not that we want you to always be the one making the effort."

Severus swallowed. "I had forgotten. That can't be easy on you."

Hermione offered, "That's a bit like saying that Voldemort wasn't very fond of Muggles."

"Ah."

Hermione felt Severus find Remus's hand and hold it, resting on her thigh. Severus continued, "Then I shall have to endeavor to make up for time wherein you would come to visit."

"That's unnecessary," Remus's voice was flat, plainly miserable.

"No," Severus disagreed, "it's not."

"This is the worst part," Hermione explained, "being caged." The words felt wrong, as if they didn't belong to her. There were no bars in front of her, but she knew Remus, inside and out, knew what being kept here was doing to him. Not for the first time, she silently gave thanks that she had rescued him from Mungo's. At least this cage was gilded.

"They shouldn't have to be." Severus's statement wasn't fervent or angry, the way hers always came out, just an issuing forth of Basic Truth. "None of them."

The calm of these sentences seemed to seep into Remus, who melted against her back. "What is, is."

Hermione snorted. "Hardly, but for the moment, I'll let you hold to that." She rubbed her backside up against Remus while grinding slightly into Severus. "What say we go about forgetting everything important or otherwise?"

A crush of skin, and she had her wish.

*

Charlie was laughing at Hermione. She flirted with the idea of letting him get away with it for all of a second before turning the tables. She finished her sentence informing the students of an Antipodean Opaleye's(1) size and said, "Actually, we have a treat today."

In true Pavlovian style, the childrens' ears perked up at the word "treat." Hermione continued, "You all know Charlie Weasley, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Charlie used to work with dragons, so he'll be teaching this lesson for me."

It was Hermione's turn to laugh as a look of terror stretched across Charlie's face shortly before he covered it and stood to meet her challenge. As she had suspected, Charlie was an excellent teacher. He knew how to tell a story that informed rather than lead off the subject, he was patient with the students' questions and he owned the subject inside and out.

At the end of the period, when half the children lingered to ask Charlie more questions or just listen to his stories, Hermione worried that she might never live up to their now-raised standards. Finally left alone, she mused, "That may have backfired."

He kissed her cheek. "Hullo. Maybe, but I appreciate it. I'm going mad locked up in that office with people whose words mean nothing and whose actions tend to cause more harm than good."

"So you visited in the middle of the day just to escape a bit?" It wasn't impossible, but she found it unlikely.

Charlie's expression was wistful. "If only. I should already be back there, I just came because the news was so good I wanted to deliver it in person. I may have yelled at Kingsley about being allowed my joys. He was rather insistent that I send an owl."

"Poor man, most of the time I think he likes that office about as much as you like yours."

"Definitely a necessary evil. I tried to get him to accompany, I know he was jealous, but you know him, work before play."

"Constantly. Minerva and I have been discussing tactics of changing this, she thinks that my ability to mold Severus to my whims extends to everyone in the universe. I'm afraid I'm about to sorely disappoint her. More's the pity, because the man really does need to live a little." Hermione bit her lip and held Charlie's gaze. "I didn't sacrifice Harry and Ron for everyone to go about like zombies, and they sure as hell didn't take the leap so that their friends could sit about in offices all day and never actually see the effects of their labor."

"I see you're doing better with that," Charlie acknowledged softly.

"Please don’t think I'll ever let go or forget or dishonor their memory."

Charlie touched her cheek. "Not a chance. Gin, that girl she keeps around, and I have spent too long getting you here to ruin it by worrying about my brother and his lover who are already dead over you. A person does have to move on."

"And you're," Hermione wiggled her whole body slightly, "you're all right with whom I've done it? Both of them?"

Charlie settled a calming hand on her shoulder. "They're both good men, despite some of their attempts to prove otherwise. Nothing like the first two, but there isn’t a doubt in anyone's mind that they both love you and you return the feeling, and really, what else are we supposed to ask for?"

Hermione clasped her hand over the one he had laid on her shoulder in silent appreciation of his support. "Enough stalling, what's this good news you've brought me?"

Charlie grinned. "The board sat this morning for voting."

Hermione clapped her free hand over her mouth, "Merlin, Mer- Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"

"The trips were approved, almost unanimously."

Hermione gave a little shout and jumped in a circle, making clumsy twirls. Eventually, she calmed down enough to listen to Charlie, "We think the whole situation with the families wanting their kids back and the kids leaving and there being absolutely no new infections over that time period was what really tipped the scales. Werewolf transmission has gone down so completely that the only documented case island-side this year was the Knoll biting. The Ministry is very happy with what it feels is a 'model for regulating dangerous creatures in a humane manner.' I'm positive I'm going to vomit on the next person who uses that phrase with me, but, physical illness or no, you have a releaser, one day out for each member of the School community, no more than thirty at a time."

Hermione did quick math. "Four trips, then."

"To anyplace that will agree to let you in. Oliver and Katie petitioned months ago to allow for a section set aside for your group. The affirmative came down last week but we didn't want to say until it was confirmed that the information would actually mean anything."

"Just in time for Christmas," Hermione chirped. "Fantastic. One of the places we've chosen is actually Muggle, so all we have to do is inform them that we're a school wanting to visit, and Hydrea has connections that she's been taking reckless advantage of in the third place. I think we'll take two groups to the Muggle spot, since I expect a bit of interest in it anyway."

"Where are you taking them?"

"Muggle amusement park, feel like joining?"

Charlie shrugged, "I've never been, and I doubt Nora has either. I figure you could probably use as many chaperones as you get, and the Ministry'll put less fuss up the more non-werewolf companions there are along for the jaunt."

"Obviously. We'd love having both of you." Hermione paused and then threw herself at Charlie, squeezing him for all she was worth.

He took it as long as he could before gasping, "Breathe. Want. To."

Hermione let go. "Sorry, it's just, this is brilliant. I'm so glad you came to tell me."

He pushed a loose tendril of hair from her face, "Me too."

"Wait until I tell Remus," she practically sung the words.

"I'm going to leave you to do that."

"You don't want-"

"I do, but it's not really my efforts that this is rewarding, and you deserve it more than I do. Also, I do need to get back. I'm sure Kingsley is going to ream me a new one when I return. Give Remus and Zev and the rest of them my best. I'll see you at the change, if not before." He gave her one last peck on the cheek and headed to the edge of the wards.

Hermione watched him go, turning and doing her best to walk with measured steps back to the school. She was running within two paces.

*

Hermione thought she was going to have to do some subtle maneuvering to land both Remus and Zev going to the Quidditch game, but the minute she started dealing, Kieran ruled, "They're family, they go together."

Hermione pressed her wrists to her chest and choked out, "Family."

Kieran smiled, and kindly didn't mention that she was misting up. "Of course," he countered, "It means Redda and I are first on the list of chaperons for the History of Magical Inventions Museum."

Not trusting herself to speak, Hermione scribbled their names at the top of the list.

Which was how it happened that she spent nearly two hours the night before the game listening to Hydrea and Kieran rhapsodize about the evolution of magical use by humans, noticing the very similar expressions of fond amusement on Ruel's and Redda's faces.

The morning of the game began with Remus pouncing on her, knocking the air from her lungs so that she awoke to a mental dictum to breathe, girl, oxygen into the lungs, carbon dioxide out. Remus had the good sense to look slightly ashamed of himself when she managed to gasp, "'Morning to you as well."

He pulled her out of bed by her hands. "I'm taking you on a date. Well, a group date, but I'm paying for all edibles and souvenirs."

Hermione was having trouble remembering how to brush her teeth, reeling from the force of his excitement. She scrubbed harder, putting out effort to make up for lack of technique. When she finally gave up and rinsed, she reminded him, "Zev's coming too, I'm sure he'll want stuff."

"I'm taking care of that too," Remus announced grandly, "Like a real father."

Hermione yanked the hairbrush she was holding through a particularly determined snag. "You were a real father to him that day when he broke the door of the ward down and you were the only person who bothered to stay with him while he sicked up all over the place."

Remus rushed around, evidently trying to assemble every piece of Puddlemere paraphanalia that he owned. "Maybe, but now I get to take him out and show him things-"

"You show him things every day. You show him counter-curses, and ways to defeat demons and-"

"I want to show him the world."

Hermione wrestled with her hair until it twisted back and into the clasp she was using to pin it. "I know that this isn't good enough for you, but this is his world. This is the place that treats him with dignity and kindness and allows him a level playing field. I understand that you feel suffocated here but he doesn't. He has friends here, and lots of open space and me and you and Severus and that's all he's ever asked for. Please don’t make him want things I can't give him."

Remus pulled his jumper all the way over his head. He stared at her for a bit before starting, "I didn't know you thought I felt this wasn't good enough."

"It's not that I don't feel for you, were I in your situation-"

"You should never have to feel like something you've done isn’t good enough for me." He crossed to where she was standing in front of the mirror, his bare feet rustling over the heavy rugs. "Min. You sacrificed everything you knew for us, me and him, everyone at this school, us. It's because of you that over eighty children who would most likely have died are instead learning the ways of a wizard and how to function within a community. I wouldn't have you think for a minute that something like that is somehow beneath me."

"Sometimes I get to feeling like I've tried to give you the world and instead have only managed a fractured facsimile," Hermione admitted.

Remus shook his head slowly. "I don’t need the world from you. Or maybe you are the world, I'm not sure. I just know that you've yet to disappoint me, you shouldn't think otherwise for a second."

Hermione stood, taking a moment to compose herself while pretending to be looking for the perfect robe for the day. "Just in case though, in case I ever did, I'd want to know. Because I have all these plans for us, things I want and I can't imagine something worse than suddenly finding out I've diminished this place, us, you, in my desire for my own goals. I can be rather single-focus, y'know."

Remus picked a dark purple robe that Hermione knew was one of his favorites and handed it to her. She took it willingly, glad to have the decision wrested from her.

"I've noticed that," Remus responded. "It's just that your focus tends to be wider than most people who claim that trait. Honestly, you're aware of the consequences, you always have been."

Hermione swallowed twice before attempting, "Sometimes I go ahead and do things regardless of knowing."

"No, you weigh pros and cons and make a decision, you don't do anything regardless of consequence."

Hermione met Remus' eyes to make sure they were speaking of the same thing. They were. "I just don't want to make a mistake that costs me everything again."

"There's no Voldemort this time." The words sounded as though they were as much a revelation to Remus as they were meant to be for Hermione. They probably were.

"There's other things, maybe bigger," Hermione reminded him.

"And you'll defeat them, just like you did last time, only with more finesse."

"It's the finesse part that I worry over."

"Let me do the worrying for you, you just fight the battle."

Hermione was used to being the worrier, used to being forced into letting someone else fight, that was how it had always been. After all, Harry had been the Savior, the Champion, the Boy Who Was Never Allowed To Be A Boy, and Ron, his sidekick. Hermione had been the thoroughly beloved third wheel. Not much room in that description to don heavy armour and hie out into the fray. All her sword wielding had been mental. It felt odd to share the weight with someone else, odd to know that someone was at her back, rather than expecting her to be at theirs. "Maybe we should both fight a little and worry a little together."

Remus pulled her pajama top over her head to make room for the Oxford button down she was moving to slip on. "That might work."

"I think it could." She buttoned the front of the shirt quickly, her fingers practiced from all their nights with Severus.

"I'm definitely willing to try."

"Forever," Hermione pulled the robe up over the top.

"Longer," Remus straightened her collar and kissed her approvingly.

*

The wind was positively biting and rain that threatened to turn into ice fell intermittently, but neither children nor adults seemed to notice. True to his word, Remus had bought Zev a pair of Omnioculars and was now busy discovering all the new gadgets included that hadn't graced his last set.

Hermione was splitting her attention between them and the rest of the group, watching that everything went smoothly. The last thing wereworld needed was bad PR. It was due to this self-assigned distraction that Severus was able to sneak up on her, complaining, "Only morons would stand atop elevated seating structures in the midst of freezing, forty kilometer per hour winds to cheer on a group of flying incompetents."

Hermione tried to siphon some of her enthusiasm off. "Glad you could join the moron squad."

His look was obviously meant to be one of someone resigned to his fate, but Hermione knew him too well. She kissed him just to add to the happiness that lurked beneath his carefully constructed persona, "He'll be so thrilled. They both will."

"You overestimate my importance," Severus dismissed her statement.

Hermione was about to reply, but Remus had evidently felt the eyes drilling two precision-perfect holes into his back, because he turned. The grin of surprised pleasure that spread over his face made Severus move to back up before realizing there was a seat immediately behind him.

Hermione laughed, "Or not, luv."

Remus tapped on Zev's shoulder, wrenching his attention away from the still-empty field. Zev turned, irritated for a second before his excitement took over, "Professor!"

"Good morning, Mr. Granger."

"I didn't know you liked Quidditch."

Severus winced. "It is a tolerable game."

Zev laughed. "Tolerable, heh. Well, enjoy!" He screwed himself back around to his front and resumed sweeping Omniocular-covered eyes across the field. Remus climbed over the back of the seat next to Zev to be in the same row with Hermione and Severus. The other students immediately descended upon Zev, asking to look at his newest toy. Zev shared, seemingly as content to be the center of attention as he was to sharpen in on where the action would be played out.

Remus threw his arms around Severus, not letting go until well after Severus gave up struggling against him. "Thank you."

"I'm here due only to the invitation of a Ms. Katherine Bell."

Hermione shoved him, "Shut your face, you practically flunked Katie her third year, she's still working on overcoming her antipathy toward you."

"Well, I'm certainly not here to interact with mongrels who are intent on watching overgrown children fly around on sticks and aim blunt objects at each other," Severus clarified.

"There's a non-mongrel section right over there," Remus pointed out past the partition.

Severus looked over as if considering. "The children over here are better behaved."

"Probably has something to do with the fact that we scared them silent lest they ruin their own chances to leave the school again in their lifetime." Remus's voice lost any trace of warmth.

"Had I been able to affect such terror," Severus affected wistfulness, but his hand stole out and disappeared into the lengths of Remus's robe to rub against his back. Hermione watched as some of the hurt dissipated from Remus's frame.

Remus extended his version of a peace pipe as the players flew out, announced one by one, "Bet you're quicker than anyone on that field."

"I would be a fool to take such a bet," Severus sniffed.

Hermione dragged herself away from watching Zev nearly jump up and down as his favorite player was introduced. "Figure of speech, Severus."

"Obviously," he sneered.

"Bet none of those men can make me want to strip in the middle of freezing weather and forget that I'm practically in the middle of a Quidditch pitch at game time."

Severus closed his mouth quickly, but not so quickly that Hermione didn't catch the gaping she had induced. "That might be a safer bet for me to counter."

"No," Remus disagreed, "I think you're wrong about that."

"A field full of young, athletic, Potter-like Quidditch jocks-"

"And I want the willowy, sadistic, book-addicted, angry, bitter, reluctantly loving, loyal Hogwarts professor."

Remus piped up, "And the plucky, dashing werewolf obscured by said professor's ridiculous height."

Hermione peered around Severus. "Him too."

"I'll refrain from remarking on the possible state of your sanity, or lack thereof." It took Severus several tries to say it, his mouth opening and shutting compulsively.

"Quite dear of you," Hermione slipped up to her toes and kissed Severus.

Puddlemere scored and the children started screaming. Severus whipped around, obviously instinctively ready to yell. Zev's hands waved in the air, and Severus physically drew in, softening his stance. Remus slid his arm around Severus's back, tugging with his fingers at Hermione's robe. Answering the insistent call, Hermione wrapped her arm around Severus from the other side, clasping her hand over Remus's arm.

Severus scorned the other team's keeper. "Flight ability of a two year old squib."

"That's the spirit," Remus encouraged. Severus grunted. Remus acted like his, "I'm glad you came," followed perfectly from his last comment.

Severus stiffened slightly in their hold as Hermione added a, "Yes, me as well."

After an eternity of quaffle interplay, Severus drew in a breath. "Right, well, I'm here."

Hermione took her eyes away from the game to watch Remus take the words as a cue to burrow in closer to Severus. In her peripheral vision, Zev was whispering something to a girl two years older than him who was blissfully unaware of having nabbed his heart. In the pit of Hermione's stomach Ron was making fun of the Beater who kept missing his targets and Harry was trying to find the snitch before either Seeker did.

Careless of the looks it would draw, of the way it took Severus time to accept and understand each act of physical affection, Hermione threw her other arm around him in a sideways hug. Remus caught on immediately, copying her actions. Giving into the inevitable, Severus pulled her in even closer with an arm about her waist. She could feel the impact of Remus being drawn in on the other side.

"Yes," she breathed, "we all are."