*
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.