DarkIsRising

The Night Will Go As Follows

1. SORRY TO LEAVE, BUT I HAD TO GO


The wind whipped her cloak into a deranged frenzy about her chilled body. Rain came down in a slanted sheet, constantly stinging her face and causing her to squint in response. Her quest was so all consuming that she never stopped her stride to cast a charm to keep out the elements. Lightning surged across the sky, causing quick shadows to be cast, followed by a loud clap of thunder. No, she was glad for the misery because it befitted the day. To bloody dismal perfection.

Another round of lightning lit up the landscape and her eyes finally caught sight of what she was looking for. Quickening her pace, she strode forward as swiftly as she could, barring the chaos around her. Leaves swirled in spontaneous whirlwinds, a small reminder that the storm could bring much worse.

One word from Molly had sent her out into the weather and Apparating in a flurry. Anniversary. It was the anniversary, two years since the Battle of Hogwarts. How could she have forgotten? How could she have let him slip out today? She cursed herself for getting too bogged down in her work, for letting herself slip into an unawareness.

Normally a very calm, collected individual, his reasoning seemed to leave him when the calendar rested on today, a day of horrible memories. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she chided. You know how he gets. He is liable to stand out here until the lightning strikes him and he burns to a crisp.

She called his name. He paid no heed to it, though the wind seemed to sweep her voice away as soon as she opened her mouth. Again she shouted out his name. Nothing. Advancing on him, she grabbed a hold of his forearm, bringing his attention away from the spot he was looking at to her face.

“Remus,� she said once more, trying to be heard above the din. Her hair briefly obscured her face; it was now a mass of wild curls, weighed down with water.

At first, he did not seem to register the pale hand that still clung to his sopping trench coat or the anxious face attached, but soon his eyes snapped from their reverie and darted about in confusion as if suddenly lost. Finally his tired gray eyes locked on her equally weary, dark brown ones, a startled look upon his face.

“Gods, Hermione, what are you doing out here?�

Incredibility quickly scrawled itself across her face as her eyebrows rose. “What am I doing out here?� she echoed back. “I’m making sure you haven’t drowned yet. It’s coming a flood, Remus! You’re soaked.� Her appearance was a testament to that statement as she flung a wad of drenched hair over her shoulder from its position on her saturated shirt.

At that, he picked at his attire, looking down, letting raindrops drip from his nose, eyelashes and chin. His gaze was then reclaimed by what he had been staring at earlier. “I had hardly noticed. I’ve been here a bit,� he replied distantly.

Reflexively, she found herself looking at it, too. The smooth gray granite, engraved with rigid serif letters, stuck up sharply from the rain beaten grass. Nymphadora Tonks 1973-1998 Beloved Daughter, Sister and Friend. Her heart wrenched as it had the first time she stood over this grave, watching the dirt being poured in. His silent agony permeated and she felt his attention waning from the present and drifting to the past. She would not leave him here.

Taking his chin in her fingers, she turned his face back to hers. “We need to go, Remus, or else you are going to catch pneumonia.� He did not respond and she knew it was not due to the wind for it had died down considerably. Her tone softened, “I know what you are going through and what you are thinking. You have a right to mourn, we all have lost, but it’s not over. We need you.�

Lightly, she took his hand in hers and began to slowly pull him away. She halted as he said in a croak, “I can’t. Not-not today.�

Through the thinning sheets of rain, she studied his face. He seemed so torn; neither did he let go of her hand nor did he move from his spot. “Okay,� she conceded, turning back around. “But I’m staying with you.�

Remus made as if to argue, but one look at the setline of her mouth told him it would be quite pointless. So they stood there several moments longer; their hands no longer clasped, but Hermione had linked arms with him. As the rain moved out, a chill set in. A late October gust cut their coats. Lost in thought as she gazed blankly out into the cemetery, she almost did not hear his faint words, not expecting much from the constant silence.

“You’re cold.�

Indeed, Hermione had started to involuntarily shake as the temperature dropped, but the movement had been lost on her. By clamping her teeth, she kept them from chattering. She shrugged in response; he was not going to find a reason to send her back and stay out here by himself for who knew how long. No one had ever let her, and in hindsight, she was glad. Clinging and mourning over Ron’s grave would have only driven her to madness. She would not see anyone fall into what she nearly had. Remus had helped drag her back to sanity after Ron’s funeral. Being that close to the edge was frightening enough without actually tipping over.

In usual scholarly response, Hermione conjured a blue flame in one outstretched hand and held it close to her, grinning slightly through the flickering tendrils. She easily separated the fire into both hands and offered one over to him. He cupped his palm over hers and let it lay there, extinguishing the blaze. For a moment, he left it there before moving it to her shoulder and steering her around. Puzzled by his sudden turnaround, she fisted the other fire into nothingness. The firm hand on her back led her resolutely out of the cemetery.

“Did Molly send you?� he asked at last.

“No,� replied Hermione.

Rephrasing, he said, “Did Molly tell you?�

“She simply reminded me and well, she knew how I’d respond, so -�

“So you were sent,� he sighed.

Hermione gave him a scathing look and her nostrils flared in kind. “No, I was not! I came out in this gale to keep you from dying of any number of sources on my own accord without prompting. No one sent me to retrieve you. I care about your wellbeing and just could not let you do this to yourself, especially alone, on today of all days.� His face was oh so carefully avoiding hers as she peered up at him and finished softly, “You did not leave me, and I’ll be damned if I let you keep trying to make it through this by yourself.�

His expression was so infuriatingly hard to read that initially Hermione feared he might become angry with her being so forward about his situation and her determination to help him. But it soon turned to resignation and a faint sad smile lifted the corners of his mouth. As usual he responded to her in a very calm and warm way, “I’m getting you inside. It’s freezing and you’re soaked to the bone. Molly will have a fit when she sees us both.�

“But-but-� sputtered Hermione. It was her idea that they be leaving. As soon as they had crossed the cemetery’s threshold, Remus grasped her upper arm and began to spin out of sight. Conceding her brief authority, she let him be the one in control and watched despondently as he carefully tucked his emotions down inside of him, plastering a composed expression on as they reappeared at The Burrow. He cleared his throat and gently released his grip on her. Neither had a chance to move before being hit by a powerful drying charm from Mrs. Weasley. Each of their hair blew around their now pink faces, leaving a tangled mess for them to sort out with their fingers. At least they were in dry clothes again.

“Thank goodness you are both back. I asked the barometer and it said these storms will be going on all through the night. Neither of you have caught anything, have you?� She felt their foreheads which were deceptively warm from the over excessive drying and gave them a good look over before declaring them with a clean bill of health. “Everything all right?� she whispered to Hermione as Remus trudged into the kitchen and sank down into a chair.

“As well as can be expected.�

Molly made a sympathetic noise and gently patted Hermione on the back as they moved into the kitchen. Remus was already nursing a very black cup of coffee and he leaned heavily over it. Hermione could detect a faint whiff of something else; she pinned it as Firewhiskey. Scrunching her noise, she could only guess what kind of horrible tasting concoction that would make. She pulled out the chair next to him and flopped down. He made as if to move, but stayed in his seat. A few more people filtered in; rather a few of the survivors did, as was often the case on the anniversary of the first battle. Most of them avoided any pomp that the Ministry might put on to commemorate the event. Mrs. Weasley was bustling around offering food to anyone who dared linger in the kitchen. Hermione finally gave her the satisfaction of making something as she requested only toast. The older witch beamed at the prospect. Without nearly half her clan to feed, Hermione would indulge her if only to see her a bit happier.

The people milling about muttered softly around them and Hermione pulled her golden brown toast closer. Several clapped Remus on the shoulder, who determinedly stared into his cup and offered only the words necessary for a response, no more. Some of them went up stairs to where Harry was, no doubt with Ginny, and Hermione was surprised that Bill had not shown up yet. The Wireless hummed innocently in the background, a tune Hermione did not know, but was unconsciously tapping her feet to.

Abruptly, the music stopped and a very authoritative voice replaced it. “Special breaking news from the Ministry of Magic. After a hasty drafting session, the Wizarding Council has once more approved some progressive lawmaking in the wake of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s failed takeover.� Those left within hearing distance froze and stared at the radio; a few groaned. The Ministry could be unpredictable with its laws these days, especially since Kinsley Shackelbolt was no longer the Minister of Magic. “This legislation was just rushed through mere minutes ago and is currently titled as Werewolf Reform Bill R938.� Now all the eyes swiveled to Remus who stared blankly ahead, squeezing his own eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose as the announcer continued. “Henceforth all werewolves must be in an educational program, employed or actively seeking employment and register such with the Ministry. This has been coupled with a revolutionary work place anti-discrimination clause, stipulating that companies must be equal opportunity employers.�

Now the taunt faces softened with grins as they congratulated Remus on his new prospects. He could get and hold down a job, albeit under Ministry supervision. “You could return to Hogwarts, Remus. Isn’t that wonderful?� said Hermione, a smile directed at him.

“Just because I can get a job, doesn’t make the prejudice any less real. Now they’ll just hire me because Ministry is forcing them or they’ll be written up. I’d rather not have that hanging over my head everyday,� he replied solemnly, causing the happy expression to be wiped cleaning from her face and everyone else’s.

“Remus, I didn’t mean ... I just thought ... �

He stood up to leave. “I know, Hermione.� She pushed back her chair and got up also.

The radio person cleared his throat, making Remus halt in his tracks. “The second part of the bill states that any werewolf of age must be married or actively seeking a committed, life-long relationship with another, preferably of a normal wizarding sort. A timetable will be determined for how long the werewolves will be allowed to find a husband or wife before coming under a Ministry inquisition, coupled with possible detainment and a snapping of their wand if further compliance is not given. The Ministry hopes these innovative, new laws will foster more human-like behavior from the werewolves and deter future Dark involvement. Matilda Hays of the Wizarding Council said…�

No one was listening any more. It appeared Remus had stopped breathing and his posture was so rigid it looked as if one move would break him. Everyone looked on horrified and mute, unable to say anything. They were so shocked and also scared of how Remus might react. Hermione’s hand had flown to her mouth at the news; astonishment on her face. Hesitantly, she reached out for him since he was still close to her. Ever so lightly, it came to rest on his elbow, hoping to offer him sort of comfort. Breaking the unbearable silence that was punctuated by annoying out of place sounds from the Wireless, she breathed out, “Oh, Remus, how could they? What made them think they had any right –� She was cut short as tears sprang to her eyes and she found it difficult to continue.

His own eyes stayed dry as his cultivated front flicked with emotions he was trying very hard to control. He exhaled a breath he had been holding in and turned so she could now see his profile. Lowering his head, he regarded her out of the corner of his eye and sighed softly once more before silently moving out from under her hand. The others moved back without saying a word, giving him his space as he exited the room. A small pop was heard from the adjoining hallway that indicated his departure.

Brandishing her wand, Hermione flourished it so violently at the radio that not only did it cease its playing, but it began to emit smoke from its speakers. The quiet muttering, seething with undercurrents of outrage and astonishment, paused at the commotion she had made with a few fanning the smoke out the nearest window. It was her turn to stalk out, tears prickling to be unleashed once more. The unfairness of it all made her hot all over and she could not even explain herself properly to Harry and Ginny as she met them in the hallway.

She hastened up the stairs, having a faint hope that maybe Remus had simply Apparated to the second floor, but that was dashed as she found him nowhere. That left the conclusion that he had gone back to his flat, the one he had rented after selling the house he had shared with Tonks. Hermione wrung her hands and dearly hoped he wouldn’t do anything rash. Turning down the hall, she grabbed up a piece of spare parchment and stabbed a quill into an inkpot, writing furiously, not caring about the ink blots that dotted the page. She glanced over her work before whistling down the Weasley’s owl and tying the sheaf onto its leg.

“To the Ministry of Magic, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Werewolf Registry. You peck them good and hard until they answer my questions,� she said fiercely to the docile-looking owl who swept clumsily out a half-opened window.

Heaving a sigh, she collapsed into an armchair located in the upstairs den. Hermione leaned her head on her hand and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall. Plunging deep into thought, her mind processed each and every scenario this problem presented. Not many solutions ended well. Two were immediately scrapped; Remus leaving the wizarding community and Remus killing himself. She did not really think he would do the second one, but one must always be prepared. The first was quite as terrifying. They still needed him, Death Eaters continued to be at large and Remus was a huge asset. Not only that, but it would crush him and everyone else if he was forced to leave the wizarding community. Or worse if they started throwing werewolves into Azkaban. He had already been through so much; he did not deserve this. Who knew how many more letdowns and abandonments he could take?

He had not left Hermione in her time of need and she had already promised she would not leave Remus in his. She felt the need to cry once more. It was so unfair. To punish all for the fault of a few. Remus was not like anything those horrible Ministry people implied. He was much more human than many that worked there and never had a Dark tendency in all his being. Preposterous! The man had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts for crying out loud! Such horrible prejudice against half-breeds, she wildly thought, Umbridge must have been meddling, but remembered that she was banned from any more official government work.

Remus was calm, friendly, warm and caring. He was the one who retrieved her from Ron’s grave, and although she had beat at him and cried furiously, he had held her silently until she had calmed down. At her lowest point, he had comforted her and was the only one who could talk any sense to her. She had watched him as he found Tonks after the battle, barely alive, her hair black with blood. He cradled her head in his lap and pleaded with her still form.

Oh Gods, then Tonks died and they had all feared for him, watching his mechanical movements and maddeningly dry eyes. How much more death could he take?

Finally, it seemed he was alone. Childhood friends. Gone. Girlfriend. Murdered. His own life. Horribly afflicted.

Hermione slammed a shaking fist down on the chair’s arm before hastily wiping a stray tear. Her body filled with such emotion. She could not remember being able to feel so much; war could make a person dangerously numb. She felt completely wiped out and tired by it.

He was not by himself. Not by a long shot. Never.

As her eyelids began to droop, she listened anxiously for a creak of a floorboard to indicate he had come back. However, she only heard Molly and Bill pass before the house returned to silence. Then she fell away into the darkness of sleep. She awoke horribly cramped in the armchair the next morning, feeling stiff in all the wrong places. Walking uncomfortably from the room and rubbing her back, she inquired as to whether Remus had returned any that night.

No, Remus had not shown up that night.

Hermione waited restlessly for him to come back to The Burrow. It worried her immensely not to see him.

But he did not come back.

DarkIsRising

The Night Will Go As Follows

2. YOU’LL FORGET ME AGAIN


She shifted from one foot to the other in the dim, gray hall that looked as though it had seen much better days. The sounds of someone’s television being turned up entirely too loud was the only noise apart from her breathing. Nervously, she regarded the equally somber-colored door and the dingy ‘47’ that hung haphazardly on it. This place was far cry from the modest cottage he had shared with Tonks. She exhaled a breath she had not known she was holding in as she placed her hand upon the doorknob. No one had seen hide or hair of Remus Lupin since he had Disapparated from the Burrow two days ago. In that span of time, Hermione had decided if he would not come out then she would just have to go in after him. The Ministry thus far had not answered any of her queries directly; rather what she heard from reporters sounded far more ominous. She doubted the Ministry would be swayed on this issue. Furthermore, Remus’ stubborn absence was not going to solve any of his problems.

And you can? the snide voice in her head said, the one that always had her second guessing her essays at Hogwarts. Do you really think he will do it?

Outwardly, she rolled her eyes and inwardly hushed her cynical side. He would have to see reason or else be thrown out on the street as a Muggle, wand snapped – or even worse. Whispers of Azkaban had begun to circulate as a punishment. At the moment, Remus seemed to be taking his chances and simply waiting for the Ministry to break down his door. It should be easy enough; her plan was foolproof. All she had to do was go in and explain to him how it was going to work out just fine. She could try to scare him into it, but she hoped he saw reason. He had to hear her out. She would not let him reduce himself to defeat so quickly. He couldn’t leave. He just couldn’t.

Gathering her courage once more, she took hold of the knob more firmly and turned it. Unsurprisingly, it was locked; nobody had been able to enter previously. Hermione raised her hand and gave a tentative knock, then a few more, louder, for good measure. No answer, yet again no shock. He had not answered the door for any of the other Order members. She even called his name a few times through the door, but without any response. Glancing up and down the hall to be sure no Muggles were watching, Hermione pulled out her wand and decided on a slightly drastic measure. Breaking in. With a mix of betrayal and good intentions, she undid the numerous non-magical locks and broke through several charms. Wincing at her devious action, she hesitantly swung the door inward and softly crossed the threshold.

The scene before her was of a cramped flat in a state of disarray. Many objects had apparently been thrown and shattered, lying broken at various edges of the room. The small kitchen had an unclean air about it as did the rest of the house as she stepped through toward the living room. That was where she found him slumped over in an armchair pulled close to a dead fire, not a single ember glowing. Numerous glittering glass bottles littered the area about his feet; all were various forms of wizard and Muggle alcohol. His hand was flung over the side and rested on a half-finished container of whiskey which seemed to her his preferred poison.

She hastened over to him, taking in his rumpled clothes, the very ones she had last seen him in. He was breathing evenly in sleep and she hoped he had not drunk himself into too deep of a stupor or by the looks of it a coma, as he did not stir once at her footsteps. The bitter smell of alcohol assaulted her nose as she bent down beside him. His hair was unkempt and his stubble gave him an even more scruffy appearance. Taking it all in, her face softened and she quietly chided, “Oh, Remus.� She removed his hand from the bottle’s neck and held on to it for a moment, savoring the warmth and the feel of his hand. Hermione then placed his left hand on his lap next to his right as a new problem stared her in the face. Getting him conscious.

Standing once more, she banished the various objects and trash in the room with a flick of her wand. Hermione glanced between the wand and Remus. To wake him magically or not? From previous experience, she knew reviving someone drunk did not only make them conscious but rather irritable (or at least in Harry’s case it did.) Time was of the essence so she placed her wand on his chest and said, “Ennervate.�

Groggily, Remus opened his eyes, rubbing his head which Hermione suspected must be splitting with a headache. He slowly straightened out of his hunched position. At first she wondered if he would ever take notice of her, but soon he stiffened and he turned to face her. He blinked a few times before closing his eyes in obvious pain and wearily placed a hand over his face. “Hermione,� he muttered hoarsely. “What –?�

“Never you mind,� she cut in briskly. “Now can you stand?� Hermione placed a firm grip on his arm and helped to pull him to his feet where he swayed. “I think it would be much easier to talk if you weren’t in such a state.� She began to lead his staggering figure off to another room.

“Talk?� he echoed woozily.

Hermione was having trouble keeping him up since he was several inches taller than her and heavier, though thankfully his footing was becoming steadier. “Yes,� she flung open the door, “but first a shower and something for your hangover.�

She flicked the bathroom light on and squinted in the watery glow. Leaving him to lean up against the sink, she started the shower, turning the knob all the way to the right. Remus was still hunched against the off-white countertop as she removed his cloak then his shoes. At first he was quite acquiescing until she unbuttoned his shirt and started to yank off his trousers. That’s when the protests started but Remus was in no state to resist. Frankly escape was futile since she had a wand, so finally he was left standing in only his undershirt and boxers. If he had any sense left, he would have been properly embarrassed.

Quietly, Hermione said, “Forgive me for what I’m about to do.� Then she pushed him under the spray of water.

Remus gave a loud yelp and vaulted back, trying to escape. He sputtered as the ice-cold jet pounded down on him and soaked his meager clothing. Hermione took the opportunity of surprise to thoroughly Scourify him. Now wide-eyed, he pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and was peering at her as if he was just truly seeing her. His gaze traveled down his apparel and back up to her. “Hermione?�

“Oh good, you’re fully awake!�

He shivered and backed out from under the showerhead. “Was the freezing water absolutely necessary?� Remus seemed to be back to his more normal self as he crossed his arm and gave her an intense stare.

“Uh oh – yes – well. Not anymore.� She involuntarily flushed and turned the tap off. “It’s always worked on Harry and,� she paused as if fighting to say the word, “Ron.�

“Of course,� he answered quietly. Remus made his way out of the shower and dripped steadily upon the yellowing tiles. “Towels are in the lower cabinet directly behind you and a Pepper-Up Potion will be behind the mirror.�

Spinning about, Hermione handed a maroon towel to him and quickly averted her eyes as he started to dry himself off. She did not blame him for not going with the drying charm again. The hinged mirror swung forward with a creak. A fiery red bottle was perched on the top shelf. Carefully, she took it down, unscrewing the cap and watching as he took a large gulp of it. Steam issued forth from his ears and his face burned bright red momentarily. He reached around her to put it back and close the door securely.

“Any better?� ventured Hermione.

Remus was twisting the towel absentmindedly in knots. “Somewhat – the pounding is gone.� As though it burned, he tossed the towel down and moved past Hermione into a short hallway. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I’d rather like to put some dry clothes on.�

Again she found herself blushing; she could feel the heat blaze up her face. This entire situation was going from bad to worse in a flash. Anxiously, she listened as she heard him shuffle about in drawers in the next room and waited for him to emerge. Flitting out into the main room once more, she nearly collided with him, fully dressed in a pair of Muggle jeans and a plain green t-shirt. He steadied her.

“We need to talk,� she said simply.

Relinquishing his grip on her shoulders, he sighed and looked away from her before answering, “I rather think that would pointless.� He turned on his heels and stalked out of the room back toward the living room he had just left earlier.

“Pointless? But your life is on the line.�

Remus stopped and fixed her with one of his stares again. Softly, he said, “Oh, they won’t kill me; at least, I highly doubt they will.�

“Perhaps not,� she shot back. “They’re still going to take your life away when they force you to live as a Muggle with no magic or magical contact.�

“I’ll manage; I have for years. How else would I have been able to hold down any sort of stable income? They do not discriminate against werewolves so much out there. Tend to believe that we don’t exist.� He smiled humorlessly at his own little joke.

In a very McGonagall fashion, Hermione pursed her lips. “What about us? All of us who care about you and need you? The work yet to be done?�

“You mean you won’t come see me as a Muggle.� Before she could begin a protest, he finished, “As for the Voldemort’s straggling lot of supporters, you are all very capable of rounding them up without me. It’s not as if I’ve been much help recently. When was the last time I went on a mission?�

Hermione struggled to remember. “It was just last – �

“Exactly,� said Remus, cutting through her babble.

“That is completely beside the point!� She moved toward him, resisting the urge to shake her finger at him. “Your wand, those years at Hogwarts,� her voice dropped lower, “the war. You can just walk away from magic, all you’ve ever known? From us?� Her voice was dangerously near the breaking point.

“Yes,� he stated and she felt as though her heart was starting to break into smaller and smaller pieces. “I would not burden you any longer. That’s all I’ve really done – James and Sirius, Dumbledore,� his voice became strained, “Nymphadora, but no more. I’ll go and leave you all in peace.� He sank despairingly down onto a ragged sofa cushion.

She planted herself in front of him and looked down on his hanging head. “Burden? Burden? How dare you.� Her words were fast becoming shrill. “Everything we’ve ever done for you, Remus, has been because we care for you, because we love you and you’re just going to walk away?�

“Yes,� was his tired reply.

“How? When there’s a solution, perfectly easy - �

Suddenly, he jumped up and nearly bowled her backwards. He looked livid at such a suggestion and its intensity caused Hermione to shrink back momentarily. He countered harshly, “There is no solution.�

Plucking up her courage, she stood straight up, looking him square in the face. Hermione could not stop the words from coming out as a shout, “Yes! Yes there is. You just won’t accept it. You are too stubborn to realize it.�

Her outburst had caught him by surprise and he was merely able to look at her in a vague shocked expression. Of course, the wrath of Hermione Granger had never been fully turned on him before. Seizing his momentary lapse into silence, she continued, “It’s so simple, Remus. All you have to do is get married.�

Mutely, he was shaking his head in a ‘no’ fashion. She erased the space between them; the old hardwood creaking beneath her feet. “Marry me, Remus.� Tentatively, she reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Hermione gave him a small smile as his face found hers; his expression was torn.

“I can’t. I can’t, Hermione.� He had yet to relinquish her hand. “I won’t do that to you. I won’t force such a horrible lifestyle on you.� His eyes seemed to pleading with her to understand what he was saying.

“Force?� She dropped his hand in order to wave hers in an exasperated motion. “You aren’t forcing me to do anything. I rather think I was the one who chose to come here and ask you to marry me. I came here freely.� Hermione kept pointing about for emphasis before folding her arms as if daring him to contradict her.

“Insanity. Utter insanity,� he mumbled. Remus grabbed her shoulders once more and gave her a light shake as if to wake her up. “You have no idea what you are getting into. Throwing away your reputation – indeed your very life – being a werewolf’s wife. A curse I wouldn’t wish on anyone, especially as young and promising as you. I won’t allow you to sacrifice yourself for me.�

Hermione scowled up at him. “Oh shove it, Remus. All of that is absolutely no consequence to an already scorned Muggleborn. Doesn’t even compare with the alternative of getting your wand snapped and lifetime banishment! There are even rumors they may send you to Azkaban.� She let that sink in, but he did not back down. “I’m more than aware of your condition and what it brings, yet I am still here asking.� She could no longer hold her glare and a frustrated air replaced it. She could feel the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

Once more he shook his head. “Hermione, I just can’t slander you in that way. You are the brightest witch I know. I’ll not allow you to damn your existence to save mine.� She opened her mouth to retort, but he reaffirmed forcefully, “I will not!�

Tears began to slide down her face in earnest which effectively dried him up. Hastily, she attempted to wipe them away. “But I don’t want you to go, Remus.� He was tactfully avoiding her gaze as his head hung dejectedly toward the floor as if unable to face her emotions. “And-and if it’s the fact you just couldn’t bring yourself to marry someone like me then just do it to stay. The marriage would just be in the formalities. You could go out and be with who ever you wanted until you found someone else.�

Slick trails wound down her cheeks and she struggled to compose herself. The thought of him going out with another while leaving her, his wife, at home twisted her stomach, but if he stayed, if only he would not leave, she would bear it. Seeming to think the same thought, Remus quickly interjected, “No, if I were going to do this – this marriage, it will be proper. I will not be slinking about betraying you – someone – like that. I would not take such vows lightly.�

She perceived the words as a challenge because she shot back, “Neither would I.�

Guilt scrawled across his features, Remus produced a handkerchief out of the air and lightly dabbed at the last wayward tears that slipped out and down her face. Before he knew what had happened, she had enveloped him in a fierce hug and her petite body shook with renewed sobs. “How long?� her brittle voice sounded from around his chest.

“Two weeks,� he answered gravely, patting her back.

“Only two weeks,� she repeated faintly. “You will consider it then?�

“I will do no such thing.�

She peeled herself off him, leaving a damp spot where her tears had stained his shirt a darker green. Something flashed in her eyes and her mouth set into a line once more. “And do they sell Wolfsbane in Muggle grocery stores? Because the last I checked they don’t. You won’t be able to find the ingredients to make it in any market; Muggles don’t put much stock in pixie wings or salamander hearts. How will you get it? Me?� She raised her eyebrows. “I rather thought you were just going to leave us all behind.�

Reaching inside her pocket, she pulled forth three venomous lime bottles. Since Snape’s death, she had been the Order’s potion maker and had steadily supplied Remus with his vital concoction. She floated them over to the kitchen counter. The full moon was a week away and getting him the bottles was going to be her backup plan should he refuse to let her in. Hermione had opted to break in anyway. “You won’t have any potion or friends that are an Animagus, Remus. Only some man-made structure between you and the Muggles. Then they’ll throw you in Azkaban for sure if get out.�

Clearly, he had not thought of that yet, not that he had much opportunity being thoroughly sloshed the past two days. “Surely, the Ministry has taken this into consideration.�

“No, no they haven’t! They never think before passing these horrible discriminating laws. They never take into consideration the fact that they are dealing with people, with lives. The Ministry is only looking out for its best interests and I’m trying to look out for yours. Remus, please, don’t leave. Not just because of the Wolfsbane – I swear I’d get it to you–, no one wants to see you go. I lo–� But Hermione stopped suddenly as if someone had just cut her vocal cords, looking stricken. Her hands flew to her mouth. The shock sent her startling backwards.

Again she had resumed crying and this time she waved him off, backing toward the door. He reached out for her, but she was moving away too fast. He could barely hear her choke out, “Please just consider.�

She wrenched open the door and could barely see him do the same as the tears welled up again in her brown eyes. Insane, he was right; she was insane. What she had almost said. Her head ached and she did not know what was going on anymore. Everything was so confusing. Not even caring about the Muggles, she Disapparated with a smart pop and promptly collapsed onto the floor of her flat.

DarkIsRising

The Night Will Go As Follows

3. DON’T NEED A NEW LOVE OR A NEW LIFE


Five members of the Order proposed to Remus in the following week and a half. He sought out none of them. Frankly, he tried to avoid every available witch he knew lest they follow Hermione’s example and ask for his hand. The three days of the full moon had been easy enough as he holed up in the safe room that he had conjured beneath his flat. He could still hear tapping on his front door. He thought he could hear Hermione’s voice all the way through the floorboards. She sounded sad. His bones ached from the transformations and his head ached from his incessant thoughts. I will not do this to anyone else. I will not be selfish. I will not be selfish like I was with Tonks. No matter who they are. I will say ‘no.’ He enjoyed the darkness of his cubby hole as long as he could.

Margie Pollock proposed two days before the full moon. He had been in a foul mood, not only because his wolfish nature was bubbling to the surface, but also because of the anxious looks that followed him wherever he went. Poor Remus, their faces said. Poor werewolf. He hated their pity; he hated the circumstances; mostly, he hated himself. Margie cornered him as he left the Muggle grocers closest to his flat. Remus dared not return to the Burrow or any other magical place. He hadn’t even seen her creep up behind him until he was prepared to Apparate out of an alley.

She cleared her throat to get his attention, and then looked around conspiratorially. “Remus, I know this must be hard for you,� she whispered. “But I can help you. More than you know.� Delicately, she touched his arm then winked at him. He awkwardly shifted his bags around trying to avoid her.

“Yes, well, it is for me to worry about. I have already made it quite clear that I will not be complying with the law. Very kind of you...“

“You must know how I feel about you. Remember when we went on that spying mission together. Out to Brighton. Do you ever think about that?�

Gods, did he ever remember. She sat by him the entire time. They watched a Death Eater’s house, waiting to see if they were gathering forces in that part of the country. Margie breathed down his neck whenever he peered through their spy glass, feigning that she wanted to get a better look. She had pressed her breasts against his shoulder repeatedly. Tonks had been alive and his fiancée.

Rage built within him. She backed away. He must have looked frightful because her mouth fell open and she gasped. The bags felt strangely light in his hands as he felt himself tense.

“The answer is ‘no,’ Margie. To all your questions. The answer will always be ‘no.’ Even if I was considering, it would not be you.�

He shook her off, disgusted by her touch. Quickly, he Apparated before she could get in another word. Remus pressed his head to his cold front door. Someone had left him a note. Setting down his bags, he pulled the yellow piece of paper off the door and unfolded it.

I left you a casserole and a pie on the counter. You must be hungry. I know you will be this time of the month. I promise this is the last time I break in.

[HJG]

He could see thick crossed out lines on the back and flipped it over. The first two sentences had been marked out heavily with blue ink. The final one, the only legible one: I’m terribly sorry, Remus. For everything.

A snarling overtook his body. A wrathful anger filled him, leaving him lightheaded. His heartbeat filled his ears. She had no reason to be sorry. What had she ever done to feel such guilt? It was all him; it was always him and his damned affliction. He slammed his fist into the door. The action barely made a dent in his rage, but left quite a hole in between the door hinges. Shaking off the pain, he moved his groceries inside and shut the door behind him.

Two covered dishes sat innocuously next to his stove. He thought of how her hands carefully measured out the ingredients. How she wouldn’t use magic whenever she was cooking. How a small furrow appeared between her eyebrows when she had to reread the instructions. Molly let her putter around the kitchen after the battle, after everyone had died. Hermione made cakes. She made muffins. She made tarts. She even made casseroles and pies. The first time she laughed after losing Ron was when she royally burnt a soufflé. She pulled it smoking from Molly’s oven, took one look at it and giggled. Remus had looked up, startled by the noise. They locked eyes. Hers went wide when she saw that her atrocity had a witness. Then, she snorted into the oven mitt she held over her mouth. He felt his own lips quirk up. Deviously, she glanced between Remus and the soufflé, and then touched its burnt top with her wand. She howled with laughter when that set the soufflé on fire. They were both in tears by the time Molly came in to see about the smoke. The older witch took one look at the two of them, shook her head, and put out with the wave of her own wand.

He lifted the lids. She made beef and noodles with a chocolate pie for dessert, his favorites. Remus ate them in one sitting.

As the deadline approached, the other three witches asked to marry him. The moon was hard on him this month. After the last night, he showered and then looked himself over. His eyes appeared puffier than usual, and deeper, redder lines crisscrossed his face. Not even Wolfsbane could completely shut out his self-loathing this time. Keeping his human mind did not make any of his thoughts any more pleasant. His mind kept returning to a few nights ago when he sputtered awake to a cold shower and Hermione Granger. A knock came and shook him from his thoughts. Suzanne Bilby barely addressed him before Remus shut his flat door in her face. He considered such a short meeting a kindness to Suzanne after his run-in with Margie. The very next day another knock came. At first, for a moment, he thought it might be Hermione. Small feet shuffled just outside the door. But it didn’t smell like her. There was no hint of vanilla or crisp parchment. He listened closer. There were two pairs of feet. After a length of time, a slip of paper slid underneath his door.

Remus, we’re here about the law. We want to help.

A moment passed. More words appeared.

It’s Hannah and Parvati.

He crumbled up the paper and receded to his bedroom. The paper followed him; it floated by his head.

We don’t care who you pick, honest. Our feelings won’t be hurt.

“Reducto,� he said. The paper shredded into thousands of tiny pieces. After a while, he could no longer hear them outside. He knew one of them sighed heavily before Apparating.

He dreamt his kitchen was on fire that night. Black smoke billowed around him. And she was laughing. He kept trying to extinguish the flames he could not see and all Hermione would do was laugh. The only words she said came towards the end of the dream, as he slowly awoke. “Don’t you want a taste?� she said. “I made it for you.�

Sunday marked the end of his two weeks. He hadn’t found a bride, and he hadn’t tried to find one. He felt strangely detached, as if it were all happening to another person and not him. As if another person was going to walk into the Ministry and have their wand snapped. The small Wireless that sat on his patchwork coffee table stated that all non-compliant werewolves needed to report to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magic Creatures. Those that did not show up would be detained. Immediately. Letters had been arriving all morning. Four owls perched on the back of his sofa, awaiting his reply. Most of them asked him to reconsider his decision. Most of them asked him to stay. The last one was from the Ministry, a final warning concerning his fate:

Dear Mr. Remus John Lupin,

It has come to the Ministry’s attention that you have neither selected a satisfactory occupation or spouse, per the requirements of Werewolf Reform Bill R938. The Ministry passes such legislation for the protection and well-being of all wizardkind. We would like all werewolves to integrate into mainstream wizarding society effortlessly.

Since you have yet to comply with this law, we would like to remind you that your deadline still stands at 4:00 PM today. Report to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures with your work papers and your future spouse. Should you fail to do, you will be marked as non-compliant and have your wand snapped.

Hope your Sunday is going splendid.

Sincerely,
Corinth Overby

Remus stacked the letters neatly on his desk and left.

The Ministry was bustling for a Sunday. The elevators kept filling up and it took him nearly an hour to get to the correct floor. Once in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creature, they shifted him from line to line. The waiting room was packed. Apparently, the Ministry set out ultimatums for other “half-breeds� as well. A herd of centaurs blocked the main entrance as they exchanged heated words with a secretary. Further inside, vampires stood in line at a window marked Blood Bank. Remus soon saw his line. He pushed past the vampires, who snarled their noses at him and hid their mouths behind their dark cloaks. The werewolves stood further back, cordoned off by ropes.

The Werewolf Marriage and Occupation Registry sign floated above the longest line; it looped back on itself. Werewolves and their future husbands and brides waited to be called forward by one of the Ministry magistrates. It was easy to tell which ones were the werewolves. Their faces looked grayer and hollower. The transformations take their toll. They also looked guiltier. Only about a quarter of them looked somewhat happy to be there. A few had linked arms or were holding hands. These couples looked genuinely in love. One young werewolf with a scabbed over cut on his neck and cheek doted on his pregnant girlfriend next to him. However, most stared forward sullenly. One woman with long, unkempt hair cried and blew her nose into a well-worn handkerchief. The man with her did not even glance at her or the noise. He kept his eyes downcast, even as the line moved forward.

The other line, the much shorter one, was labeled Noncompliant Werewolf Registry. Remus stepped over the burgundy velvet ropes. The werewolf in front of him looked nearly seventy with gray hair and a red-rust mouth. He smelt like old metal and sweat. Great company to be, he mused sarcastically. Remus checked his pocket watch. A quarter ‘til four. He barely made it by the deadline. He wasn’t rushing to completely reenter the Muggle world. To live the life he had after the first war, after James and Lily had died, and Peter had disappeared and Sirius had gone to Azkaban. Remus had spent many years alone; many full moons raging at himself for all of his losses. This time he wouldn’t even have his wand or Wolfsbane. Or anyone.

When he was next in line, Remus heard a familiar voice.

“Excuse me. No really. Let me through. I said, excuse me, no need to be so rude.�

Hermione arrived at his shoulder just as the officiating wizard yelled, “Next!� Immediately, she grabbed ahold of his cloak and pulled him toward the other line. The other werewolves behind them jostled forward to fill Remus and Hermione’s vacant spots. Remus tried to dig his heels in, but they were already around the velvet rope, and were entering the marriage registry line.

“Can you believe how rude that man was,� she said conversationally, as if he had seen the whole ordeal.

“No, Hermione. Stop it,� he tried to whisper, but it came out much louder. Gods, he was in the middle of the Ministry trying to resist a witch who was nearly a foot shorter than him. Where was his wand when he needed it? She grasped him firmly and it was difficult to slip his hand into his inside cloak pocket.

“Hermione Granger?� piped up one of the witches in the marriage queue. “Let her through. Let her through.� The older witch, who wore bright magenta lipstick and a fox-skin hat, shoved back the other werewolves and their future spouses. She snapped her fingers at the large man who must have jostled Hermione earlier; he had begun to protest with his teeth bared. “She was at the Battle of Hogwarts, she was. Leave it alone.� Remus bristled at the man’s hostility toward Hermione. Without missing a beat, Hermione turned him back toward the front of the line.

“Hi,� Hermione said to the magistrate. “I’m Hermione Granger.� She smiled demurely. “Terribly sorry. I believe he was in the wrong line. We haven’t missed the deadline, have we?�

“No, Miss Granger, you haven’t.� The magistrate, a tall man with blond hair and a monocle, squinted his eyes at her. “Can’t say I expected to see you here.�

“Well, sir, I expect everyone here feels the same way.� She smiled at him again. “Especially on such a nice Sunday.�

Remus held up his hand to get the magistrate’s attention. “Actually, sir, I was in the correct line.� He glared briefly at Hermione; he gave her the stern face he usually reserved for scolding particularly troublesome students. Her face crumpled slightly before she recovered and glared back. “I am not here to get married. I need to be in the other line and she needs to go home. Isn’t that right, Miss Granger?�

If it was possible, Hermione’s gaze became steelier than before. Remus presumed it was the “Miss Granger� comment. Even more firmly, she wrapped her hand into the edge of his cloak should he attempt to escape.

“Yes, well, what Mr. Lupin,� she emphasized his name, “here has failed to realize is... is that... he made a promise. It’s now his duty to fulfill such a promise.�

“I don’t know what she’s talking about. I’ll just get back into the other line. My line.� Remus started back towards the other side, but Hermione shoved her wand into his ribs. She shook her head ‘no’ and her eyes narrowed at him.

The magistrate rolled his eyes upward and readjusted his monocle. “Merlin’s beard, are you getting married or not?� he asked pointedly. “There are people behind you who’ve already made up their minds.�

“You promised,� she repeated to Remus. “We promised each other.�

It was the day of Ron’s funeral. Although it was cold, the day was sunny for November. He was the last of their dead. All of the other casualties from the Battle of Hogwarts were already buried, nearly a month ago. But Ron had hung on, incoherent and feverish, for weeks in St. Mungo’s. He held on to the very end for her. Hermione wore a long black dress and a charcoal grey peacoat. Everyone called her a soldier. She sat by the graveside quietly; she watched calmly as they poured the dirt in. On the edge of the cemetery, Harry stood next to Remus and they watched her hover over the grave. She had yet to drop the flowers she had conjured. Their bright green leaves and orange buds contrasted sharply with the dead brown grass and rows of muted tombstones. The Weasleys had all hugged Hermione and left her be, with even Molly tearing herself away to give Hermione her alone time.

“I’ve tried speaking with her, but she doesn’t say much. Only says a word or two,� Harry said. “Same with Molly and Ginny. She’s shutting us all out.�

“She’s a lost a lot. We all have. Can you blame her?� replied Remus.

“Not, but we’re her friends, too. We all lost Ron.�

“She lost more than just Ron. She lost her future.� Remus felt suddenly tired as he thought back to Tonks’ funeral. Everything they planned wiped away, as if she had never existed at all, as if he had simply dreamed her up. His only proof was that piece of stone that bore her name. Andromeda had already stopped by their house (just sold last week) to gather reminders of her daughter. Remus could not stand to be in the house anymore with Tonks’ scent clinging to every surface. All her things, her clothes, her photos, haunted him from room to room. He had let Andromeda pack it up alone before the new owners showed up. He moved into a low-rent flat and still had not emptied any of his boxes. It still didn’t feel real.

“Everything has changed, Remus, I realize that. But we’re all afraid she won’t come in tonight. She might stay out here.�

“What of it? Hermione is a grown witch. She can mourn as she pleases.�

“She’ll be alone,� said Harry. “Ron wouldn’t want her to stand over him day and night. She won’t listen to any of us. She won’t Apparate back with me or anyone else.�

“I’ll go talk with her.� Remus clapped Harry on the shoulder and gave him a grim smile before striding off.

He closed the distance between them quickly, taking long strides across the cemetery. Standing next to Hermione in her black dress and carefully curled hair, Remus felt self-conscious. He touched the short beard he had grown out since he had stopped shaving, since Tonks had died. His dress robes were no longer black, but a strangely off-color magenta. It was doubtful that his scruffy appearance and ill-fitting clothing would make anything better.

Gently, he took the flowers out of her hand and placed them next to the waving and smiling carving of Ron’s face. Her face was slightly swollen and her eyes lined with red. He offered her a handkerchief from his pocket.

“Thank you,� she said, dabbing at her eyes. “This is the first time I’ve actually cried. Really cried. Can you believe that? What sort of girlfriend does that make me? Horrible, right?� She did her best to grin at him, but failed, and resumed wiping at the corners of eyes.

“We all mourn differently,� Remus said.

“Yes, well, isn’t that grand.� She twisted the handkerchief around in her hands. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.�

“None of this was. We lost him too soon. We lost them all much too soon.�

Hermione crossed her arms, looking off in the distance with an indignant expression on her face. “They said he’d make it. He was fine. He was completely fine. It was just one hex. Or two. We carried him out of Hogwarts. Alive. He was alive, unlike most. Madame Pomfrey promised me. She said he would make it. She promised.�

“She did the best she could. You did everything that you could. You were there for him. The whole time. And he knew it, too. At least, you got to say goodbye,� said Remus. This time he looked away; he tried to focus on the mountains in the distance as well to keep his composure.

She hung her head and sighed. “Gods, Remus, I’m sorry. I didn’t even... I didn’t even think.� Hermione shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Did I ever tell you that I saw her. Right before everything. Right before they broke down the gate.� Hermione looked at him; his jaw tensed and he avoided her gaze. “She winked at me and made that ridiculous duck face.� Her voice was on the verge of breaking; tears threatened again. “You were across the room, in your fighting stance; I don’t think you saw. She blew you a kiss and then set a Protego over you. Bellatrix nearly killed you and you didn’t even know it.� Hermione cleared her throat. “I lost sight of her after that, but she loved you, Remus, ‘til the very end.�

He found himself choking up again. Drinking had kept his feelings at bay; a nice numb feeling replaced them. Remus forced himself to sober up the past week in preparation for today. She loved you – ‘til the very end. Gods, and Bellatrix would be the death of her and by extension the death of him. His body felt colder than the November wind that swept through the gravestones.

“I won’t go back with you.� Hermione broke through his thoughts. “I know Harry or Molly sent you. I’m staying.�

“It will be dark soon. You know that you can’t stay out here,� said Remus. He had been rational; he had left Tonks behind at her grave. Hermione was rational like him, bookish, studious, logical.

“No,� she replied fiercely. She took off her coat and laid it on the ground and then sat down.

He knelt behind her and took ahold of her shoulders. A chill already set about her skin since her dress was sleeveless. “Let’s go. Molly will be expecting us. He was her son, too.�

“But he was mine,� she said softly at him. She pried his fingers off her. “I knew him.� Her voice rose in volume. “He was mine.�

Remus stood back a moment, letting her fume. He then crouched in front of her and put his own coat around her shoulders. It was a well-worn and washed-out jacket that had patches at the elbows, but it was warm. She angrily wiped tears from her face; she did not look at his face. Begrudgingly, she pulled the fabric around her body.

“You’ll get cold.�

“Then let’s go. No need for either of us to stay out here.�

She didn’t even say a word. Hermione just slapped him. Then she punched his chest. He rocked backwards on his heels, but stayed on his feet. She tried furiously to knock him over, to harm him, to remove his face from her line of sight. The slap came as a shock; however, he let her rage at him. Eventually, he was able to trap her hands within his own. He moved his weight to his knees and pulled her against his chest. Once she was in his arms and pressed against him, she allowed herself to sob freely. He held her head to him and made soothing noises, saying nonsense words until she began to grow quiet. Remus put his face against those perfectly formed curls, so different from her usually wild hair. When she had ceased shaking, he pulled her to her feet.

“Promise me. Promise me that you will always get back up. No matter what. We can’t lose you, too. Promise me that you will remember how much you are loved.� She didn’t reply. He gripped her arms and bent closer to her face. His eyes pleaded with her to agree with him. “Promise me.�

“I promise.� She nodded for extra emphasis. Her face remained pale though.

“Good. Good, girl. We always fight. We bite and claw ‘til the very end.� He smiled sadly at his choice of words. “Come on.� He started leading her toward the exit.

“Wait.� She stopped him. “I promised you. Where’s your promise? What will your promise be?�

He smiled sadly and thought for a moment. “How about I promise to be there. For you, that is. If that’s okay? Is that a good promise?�

“Very good.� She took his hand. His coat sleeve was too long for her and it hid their intertwined fingers. It was comforting to hold someone else’s hand. “I promise to be there for you, too. No one else understands. They try, but they just can’t.� She looked over at him and said, “Is that a good promise?�

“Yes,� said Remus. The magistrate looked on expectedly. Hermione seemed to be holding her breath. She looked nervously at him; her wand no longer jabbed into his ribs. “Yes, I remember the promise.� This time he took Hermione’s hand. “I believe I’m in the right line this time.�

theDarkIsRising

The Night Will Go As Follows

4. WHY DON'T WE BREAK THE RULES ALREADY

Hermione had Apparated out of Remus’ apartment complex in a haze. She hit her knees against her sofa as she landed gracelessly in her living room. An owl gazed haughtily at her from the back of an armchair. It seemed unreal. Remus had rejected her proposal; he would be expelled and they would never see him again. Hermione pulled the scroll off the barn owl’s leg. She clutched the rolled parchment and used the other to dab uselessly at the tears on her face. The bird tilted its head at her, looking annoyed; perhaps it had been sitting there awhile.

It was the Ministry’s response to her letters. She paused before breaking the seal; it was quite odd for the Ministry to take nearly two days to return an owl. Granted she had sent it on a Sunday and the Weasley’s owl was slow, but still – the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures often worked around the clock. How could they just be replying to her now on Wednesday? She’d seen them come in on multiple weekends, whenever she worked overtime. Her own department, the Muggle Liaison Office, had a large workload cleaning up the magical mess that was England. They continued working hard to gain the trust of the Muggle Ministry again. Hermione liked her work; it was important and necessary. It made her so exhausted some days as to completely block out memories of the war, memories of the dead.

Hermione stared at the letter. Her mind was very much still with Remus and her offer to marry him. She had nearly completely ruined it. Her inability to keep her mouth shut would be death of her. She didn’t know what had come over her. Physically, she shook her head to clear it. The way he looked at her when she backed away and ran out the door – he must think I’m completely crazy. He’ll have better offers. Much better ones than some silly girl he taught as a third year. Releasing a shaky breath to calm her, Hermione unrolled the parchment:

Dear Miss Hermione Granger,

Thank you for your multiple inquiries concerning the Werewolf Reform Bill R938. At the Ministry of Magic, all laws are implemented to protect and to serve all of wizarding kind. We feel assured that this bill will aid us in doing so. At this moment, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is not releasing any addition information about Bill R938. Please consult your wizarding media – the Wizarding Wireless Network or the Daily Prophet – for official press releases from the Ministry concerning this topic.

Sincerely,

Ara Hawkwood

It was simply a form letter. Surely, Ara had not signed off on this. But Hermione wouldn’t know. She scowled down at the parchment; the Ministry wasn’t letting anyone near the Magical Creatures Department. She’d tried to stop by a couple of days ago, when she went to the Ministry on Monday, but it was nearly all roped off.

Of course, she went into work as usual that day, but she also needed to know about this law and how it ever was passed in the first place. Her sense of distress had abated, but Remus’s deadened face still haunted her. Logically, if she could just speak to someone in the department, this could all be settled; they were all sensible people. However, upon arriving to fourth level of the Ministry, a bevy of reporters were blocking the department’s entrance. There was no way she could get to the Werewolf Registry without causing a commotion. And as Harry Potter’s surviving friend, Hermione always could cause a commotion.

The reporters were shouting questions at Amos Diggory, who had risen from a clerk within the Beast Division to now running the entire department. He grinned broadly from his podium with the Ministry seal on the front. Hermione noted with disgust how proud he looked of himself.

“Diggory! Diggory!� yelled a Daily Prophet reporter. “What was the reasoning behind this bill? It has been two years since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was vanquished.�

Hanging back at the elevators, Hermione waited for his answer. No one had noticed she had arrived. Thankfully working at the Ministry since the war had finally made her appearance there commonplace.

“Just because Voldemort,� Diggory paused, a look of pain on his face, “has been vanquished does not mean the work is done. The past two years we have worked to tidy up this department and better serve the magical creatures under our care. However, we could be better. As you know, we’ve tagged all the known centaurs and have the vampires on a regular feeding schedule. Now we needed to turn our attention to the werewolves, who have been woefully underserved. Werewolf Support Services has never been used, so more stringent measures need to be taken to regulate this particular Beast populace.�

Hermione frowned at the use of the word ‘Beast.’ She absolutely hated how the Ministry lumped werewolves into the same category as dragons and ghouls. As if a human being with an affliction that came once a month was comparable to a fire-breathing lizard or a slimy ogre. She should have petitioned for the Magical Creatures department; this was ludicrous.

More questions were lobbed at Diggory. “What do you say to people who think these conditions are too harsh?�

“Too harsh?� Diggory laughed good-naturedly. “Why, we are only asking them what we ask of every other witch or wizard: get a job and be a productive member of society. We are already keeping tabs on them, so this is just a natural progression in the Werewolf Registry. I admit the timeline is a bit short, but we feared waiting too long. We’ve had some grave news about several werewolves.� He looked grimly across the crowd.

“What news? What’s happened?�

He waved the female reporter off. “Nothing the Ministry can fully divulge at this moment. Just rested assured that we picked appropriate timelines and will have these werewolves ship-shape soon.�

“What exactly will be the punishment for any werewolf that will not follow your new guidelines?�

“There are steps for non-compliant werewolves. If they refuse to come to the Ministry by the deadline, then they will be detained. Any unwilling to follow these simple rules, will certainly lose magical privileges. We do not wish to do so, but wand-snapping is always an option to ensure compliance. If these werewolves will not submit to Ministry law, then what right to magic do they have?�

“Won’t that be dangerous, sir?�

Amos Diggory grinned and touched the side of his nose. “My dear, they may not have a wand anymore, but that doesn’t mean we won’t still have a magical trace. Non-compliant werewolves in the Muggle world will still be under surveillance. I feel assured our incentive will keep most of the werewolves in compliance.� He surveyed the room, skimming over the raised hands. “I think that’s all the time we have for questions. Please send your owls to my secretary should you need to ask anything else.�

He attempted to wave his way back to his office, but a wizard with a recording device caught up to him. “What about the rumors that some non-compliant werewolves are being taken to Azkaban?�

Diggory turned red and spun on his heel to face the shorter wizard; his recording device was shoved under Diggory’s nose awaiting a reply. “Those slanderous rumors are unfounded. Completely, utterly rubbish.� Diggory swept away down the corridor as the reporters hit some sort of magical barrier that prevented them from following.

Hermione remained in a state of shock. Azkaban? All thoughts of getting into the department and talking it out were gone. Diggory looked so proud of himself, so assure in his plan. Merlin, what could they be playing at? Hermione was too lost in thought to notice that the reporters were starting to leave the level. She should have already been gone by now.

“Is that Hermione Granger? Is that her?�

She saw one point her out, then several of them abandoned their attempt to get on a lift and hurried over to her.

“Miss Granger! Miss Granger!�

Instinctively, Hermione moved for her wand, her heart pounding. Her reflexes kicked in and she nearly cursed the man closest to her. Taking a deep breath, she merely kept one hand on her wand and moved toward a lift.

“Miss Granger, what do you think about the new werewolf law? Do you have anything to say about it?�

“No comment.� She tried to move through the crowd; her office was only one level above them. “If you’ll excuse me, I must get back to work.�

“Don’t you have a werewolf acquaintance? Miss Granger, how will this affect him – what is his name?� the short wizard trailed off, now sticking his recording device in her face.

“Lupin,� piped up another. “Remus Lupin.�

“Please excuse me. No comment. I need on this lift.�

She shoved past one reporter who tried to enter it with her. Quickly, she pressed the doors closed, mashed the ‘Level 3’ button and leaned against the back of the elevator. Hermione could still see them; only the grate door separated them. Her hand still lay on her wand should they try to get any closer.

“Does he have a wife? Wait, isn’t she dead? Miss Granger! Will he comply? Will he marry?�

“Or will he get his wand snapped?�

“Will you ever get to see him again?�

“Is he dangerous?�

“What will you be doing? Are you married?�

Thankfully, the lift finally shot off, leaving their incessant questions behind. This was worse than she feared. Much, much worse. She relaxed her grip on her wand, massaging her hand since she had gripped it so hard. What will you be doing? Their questions echoed after her. The Ministry would not be simply persuaded to drop this law. Diggory made that assured.

Thinking back, as she listened to those reporters and Diggory, Hermione felt like an ice cube dropped into her stomach. It was a familiar feeling – anytime Harry collapsed from a vision, whenever the Snatchers were at their backs. Even now, as Hermione stared down at the form letter, her stomach felt uneasy. They couldn’t even personalize a response to a Ministry official. Remus didn’t stand a chance. The owl bit her finger and flew out the window. Cursing, she dropped the letter and the handkerchief Remus had handed her. For once, Hermione was at a loss about what to do next.

She couldn’t go back to Remus. He made it very clear how he felt about the situation. Her heart constricted, and Hermione angrily crumpled up the letter, throwing into her fireplace. What more could she say to him to change his mind? I received a very disturbing form letter from the Ministry. Amos Diggory seems off his rocker. How terrifying. No, he’d rather have his wand snapped and be even worse off. So, to calm her nerves, she baked. It was silly; it was stupid. She didn’t bake before the war. Admittedly, she was a fair cook, but she had never mastered a meringue.

Pulling the milk and eggs out of her fridge, Hermione felt her hands steady. Remus had nearly nothing in his fridge, which if she accounted for his skinny appearance, must be a regular occurrence. When Molly let her cook at the Burrow, Remus wolfed down whatever was given to him. Once, he complimented a simple beef and noodle casserole. It was easy.

Hermione gazed out the window. Against the inky blackness, the waning moon hung above London. He must be starving; Hermione knew his metabolism accelerated at this time of the month. Remus needed to eat; he needed to know they were all still here for him. I promised. We promised, she thought. This month would be rough; Remus would need something chocolate. She started cutting shortening into her flour for a pie crust.

The following days were torture. Once again, Hermione broke into his apartment. He didn’t answer his door – no surprise, but when she entered, he was nowhere to be seen. She hovered over the note for a while. Honestly, she wanted to write a detailed list about how stupid he was acting, how much danger he was in, and how he needed to come to his senses. Instead, she boiled it down to simply I’m terribly sorry, Remus. For everything. It had taken her several tries to get it right. She scribbled out the rest, the rejects, the sentimental pleadings concerning love or promises.

Then she waited. Hermione went back to work and spent her day waiting there. The Ministry and all her work duties, which had been a comfort to her, now felt wrong and distracting. She kept thinking about the level directly below her and what was happening within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Her anxiety peaked in a meeting, when distracted, she broke her quill, which had been full of ink. Blushing, she profusely apologized to her colleagues and escaped from the room.

In the bathroom, she used her wand to clean off as much of the ink as she could. Her white shirt was surely ruined. Ara Hawkwood came out of a stall as Hermione washed up. Ara barely made eye contact with her before scurrying out into the hallway. Hermione tried to catch her, but Ara had already disappeared. She knows. I knew she’d never agree to this.

Hermione asked for the rest of the day off, citing a headache for her behavior and subsequent need to leave. Immediately, she Apparated to Remus’ apartment. He hadn’t said anything about the food, but it also had not reappeared at her flat, which she took to be a good sign. Tentatively, she placed her hand on the door. The metal was cold; the hallway was drafty, letting in the autumn chill. She couldn’t hear anything inside. The full moon had been last night, so he was probably sleeping. Or maybe awake, but still in his hidey hole underneath the floorboards.

“Remus?� she asked, hesitantly.

“Remus, are you in? Are you okay?�

Silence greeted her from the other side. She might have heard a slight shuffle beneath her, but it was too faint for her to know for sure. Hermione dared not force her way inside again.

She knocked once more. When no answer came, she placed her palm against the door and whispered, “You stupid, bloody idiot.� Then she left.

The remaining days until the deadline seemed to pass slowly and quickly. Hermione agonized over his decision, but the days slipped by faster and faster. Stopping by the Burrow, she heard from Arthur that other women had proposed to Remus. Hermione swallowed thickly as she stared at him, waiting to hear what happened.

“Margie said that she feared he would bite her for asking him. Poor Suzanne Bilby – you know from the Improper Use of Magic Office – he shut the door in her face,� Arthur said.

Hermione’s heart fluttered and sped up. “Well, she did ask him around the full moon. That can make him testy.�

Arthur smiled slightly and nodded when Molly asked if he needed more tea. “I daresay it wasn’t just the moon working on him. Don’t you agree, dear?�

Molly looked up briefly before busying herself with her garden boots. Apparently, the gnomes were becoming a nuisance. “Hm, yes. I’m sure he has much on his mind.� She wrestled the large Wellingtons onto her feet and promptly stepped out the back door.

Biting her lower lip, Hermione swirled the tea in her mug. When she had finally told everyone what she had done – proposing to Remus – most had commended her: for her bravery, for her kindness, for her selflessness. Yet, Molly Weasley had given Hermione the queerest look and remained unusually silent on the matter. Now whenever the subject was brought up, Molly inevitably made for the nearest exit.

“You’ll have to excuse her,� Arthur said. “It was particularly hard on her, losing Ron. Now, I guess she thinks she’s losing you.�

“What? I’m not going anywhere.�

“Oh, we know we’ll still see you, but I think she still sees you as the daughter-in-law she never had.� He tried to give Hermione a reassuring grin. “You know how Molly is about letting go of things.�

“I guess, I honestly figured, she objected to Remus. I didn’t think she had spoken to him recently.�

“Well, he hasn’t spoken to anyone recently, but the issue of Remus did come up as well. You know he’s quite a bit older than you, could be your father; he’s a werewolf, which is the whole reason for the law anyway. And he’s taken to drinking quite-“ Arthur stalled when he looked over at Hermione.

She was gaping at him in disbelief. “I guess it would shock everyone that I am well aware of all those points. And quite frankly, I thought we’d all be more supportive. He has as much control over being a werewolf as he does over this law. He needs someone.�

“Hermione, I didn’t mean to say you had not thought this through. We just worry about you as well. This is a big undertaking.�

“I know. I appreciate your concern.� She left her tea untouched at the table. “Tell Molly I said good-bye. I promised Harry I’d have supper with him.� Hermione spun out of sight before Arthur could say anything else.

At least, Harry did not give her a hard time about marrying Remus. The pub wasn’t full when she arrived, so it was easy to spot him with his messy mop of black hair. He looked dead on his feet. Apparently, it was some sort of “hell week� in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as they trained new Aurors, putting them through rigorous drills. Harry laughed as he told her that he even recruited Ginny to take a day off from Harpies practice to scare the recruits with her Reducto Curse. Hermione grinned as she listened and silently ate her fish and chips, periodically mulling over how many days were left until the deadline.

Noting her silence, Harry ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up. “Hermione, you might as well let it go. You did everything that you could. He’s stubborn. I’d say about as stubborn as you, so it maybe a lost cause.�

“But we can’t let him get thrown out, have his wand snapped,� retorted Hermione.

“I don’t like it any more than you do. He’s my parents’ best mate. He’s helped us all, many times over.� He paused. “Maybe he wants this.�

“What does that mean?�

“I dunno. Maybe he thinks he’d be happier just living as a Muggle. Magic hasn’t done him or even any of us any favors.�

She stabbed her piece of fish violently. “That’s rich coming from a wizard who isn’t being threatened with a wand snapping. We have to fix this; he can’t leave. I refuse to accept that.�

“Okay,� said Harry. He readjusted his glasses and leaned in closer. “What’s your plan?�

“Merlin, I don’t know. I’ve already proposed. He knows I would do it. But he won’t come out of his bloody apartment. He won’t talk to anyone.�

“So if it was me, or – or – even Ron, let’s say, needing help and acting like this, what would you do?�

“I’d throttle you,� she quipped, making Harry laugh.

“That you would, but seriously, how would you get us to go along with you?�

“I’d make you. I’d show up and hold you hostage until you did what I wanted.�

Harry leaned back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. “Exactly.�

On Sunday, Hermione put on a nice dress as she planned to get married that day. She didn’t have anything fancy. The nicest one she had was the simple red dress that she wore to Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Remus danced with her that night after Ron had swept her around the dance floor. And he had literally swept her around until the song was over, but Hermione laughed the entire time. However, Remus kept a firm grip on her waist and hand, leading her with purpose through the waltz that played. At the end, he thanked her for being such a graceful dancing partner. A blush had crept up her cheeks; no one had ever applied the word ‘graceful’ to her before. This dress would do fine.

The Ministry was busy for a Sunday. It took her far too long to get the Level Four. Her heart started to pound. What if she completely botched this and showed up late? She kept checking her watch as the lift went down and over and down again. She ran out of the doors and immediately had to shove past some ghouls that blocked the department’s doors. She shivered at their cold, clammy touch.

She scanned the entry way; it was full of centaurs and vampires. However, Hermione spotted him easily as he stood a head taller than the man next to him. He was gazing forward blankly as his rather short line moved forward. As she tried to make her way to him, a large werewolf sniffed at her and showed his teeth, and said, “Back of the line, missy. We’ve been here.�

“I’m just going right over there.� She glanced up and saw the sign. “I’m going to the Non-Compliant Werewolf line, not this one. Now. Excuse me.� He blocked her way. “No really. Let me through.� He did not budge; he growled slightly. Hermione calmly extracted her wand from her pocket and pointed it at him. “I said, excuse me, no need to be so rude.� At the sight of her wand, the man backed off slightly, allowing her to slip around him.

Grabbing Remus, she forcefully dragged him toward the Werewolf Marriage and Occupation Registry. He muttered protests against her actions and tried to get back into his own line. It was all going so well until he looked down at her with disapproval and called her “Miss Granger.� Her heart felt leaden as he continually tried to shake her off and get back into his old line, the one that would leave him wandless and a Muggle. It had been a long time since she had felt herself sink to the bottom; it had not been since the War, since Ron died. Her rock bottom was in that cemetery, crying over her dead boyfriend. She vowed never to return.

“You promised,� she said fiercely to Remus. “We promised each other.�

He grew very quiet, very contemplative. He no longer tried to wriggle out of her grasp. She let loose of his cloak and let her wand go slack. Turning to her, he gazed into her eyes with an unreadable expression. “Yes,� he said, barely above a whisper. “Yes, I remember the promise.� Then he took her hand. It felt unnaturally hot against her skin. Remus turned back to the magistrate and said, “I believe I’m in the right line this time.�

“Good, well, glad that’s all decide,� the magistrate said. He squinted at the two and motioned for them to get closer. “Clasp hands, you two, clasp hands. We haven’t got all day.�

Hermione reached for his empty hand. Remus shook his head ‘no,’ which startled her. Was he backing out, after he already agreed?

“It’s all right,� he said softly. “We just need to switch hands. The ceremony requires it to be exact.� Then he took her left hand in his left and her right hand in his right. Their arms were crisscrossed over one another. “We’re making a knot,� he explained to her confused expression. “Unbroken and united.�

Her mind was foggy. Hermione wanted to complain that the arm-knot ritual had been absent from the wizarding marriage book she read or else she would have been prepared for that. Then her heart began to pound as the magistrate began reciting the vows. She found herself stumbling over them, despite the fact she looked them up a few days ago. Wizard vows were short, only a sentence and she could barely say it.

“Remus Lupin, I am bound to you, united to you, to honor and to cherish in joy and sorrow until my life ends and my magic leaves me.�

She couldn’t read his expression. He took a deep breath and repeated the same vows back to her. His voice was low, despite the rather loud group standing directly behind them. She imagined only she could properly hear what he was saying. His eyes locked on hers and his gripped tightened on her hands. “Hermione Granger, I am bound to you, united to you, to honor and to cherish in joy and sorrow until my life ends and my magic leaves me.�

He did not break from looking at her face until the magistrate cleared his throat and Remus seemed to take a deep breath and resurface to the world around them. He gazed around, looking at the other werewolves and the Ministry officials looking at them. Hermione watched as he slipped away from the moment. He became impassive again and she wished he would look at her again, if even for a moment.

“Splendid. I now pronounce you man and wife.� Hermione began to release Remus’ hands, but he squeezed his around hers and held them in place. A golden light shot out from the magistrate’s wand and wrapped around their crisscrossed arms. It hovered before sinking into their skin, leaving faint glittery trains along their hands before disappearing completely. Hermione felt her skin prick and tingle. Only after the light dissipated did Remus finally let go of her hands. The magistrate gave a short clap and signed a marriage certificate. He handed it to Remus and began filling out another. After a beat, he looked at them, as if surprised they were still there.

“Congratulations and all that. Do you want to kiss? Some of the Muggleborns do that sort of thing.�

Hermione, in the moment, had forgotten about that detail. She felt herself blush. Remus looked stricken; he glanced at her sideways, his head turning slightly, looking scared as to what her answer to that would be. The thought of kissing Remus at all, much less in front of all these strangers, turned her head around. Her stomach liquefied with fear and some other notion that she did not have time to register.

“Um, no, that’s quite all right. We’ll just go ahead and go then.�