Disclaimer: All characters of the Harry Potter Universe are property of J.K. Rowling. Any canon characters, scenes, or plots that I use are not mine and I do not profit from them.
Warning: M for language, violence, and some eventual smut.
A/N: Wow! I have been absolutely blown away by the amount of views, follows, favorites, and reviews that have taken over the first few pages of my inbox! At first I wasn't sure what had happened until I realized that my absolutely amazing Beta, SheAlone, had mentioned my fic on one of her latest chapters of The Debt of Time! I was smiling ear to ear all weekend due to it all. So an enormous thank you to her! When it comes to reviews, I am glad everyone enjoyed the Patronus scene with little Hermione. That was the scene that actually inspired this particular fic! I'm sorry there is no interaction between Hermione and Remus in this chapter either but I don't want to skip too many things, and I also want to be able to develop Remus a little more! Thank you all for all the kind words, though, you all are wonderful!
Wolf and I
Chapter Four: Innocence and Prejudice
Mrs. Granger wore a look of determination as she pushed the squeaking trolley down aisle five, surveying the numerous pastas with a critical eye. After internally calculating whether or not it was the best deal, she finally settled on the farfalle. Then, satisfied with her decision, she handed off the bag of bow-tie noodles to her tiny shopping companion. The smiling girl's chestnut hair had been secured with a pair of butterfly-imposed barrettes today, and it was only through a barrage of distractions from her mother that they had remained in place.
The trip, while short, had been one to remember. At one point, Mrs. Granger had strayed too far from the trolley to pick up a carton of eggs. When she returned, the little girl was clutching a lemon with a look of utter disgust on her face. Her mother let out a laugh before Hermione chucked it through the air, sour expression still intact. She wasn't quite sure how the toddler had gotten ahold of it in the first place, but her Hermione was a sneaky little thing.
When they finally made it to the checkout counter their trolley was filled to the brim and the two-year-old had grown impatient. She had acted well enough throughout the trip, but her mother refused to reward her with a mouthful of sugar. Both the girl's parents were dentists, after all, and their daughter would not succumb to a mouthful of cavities like most of their patients. To her frustration, a significant amount of people were ahead of them in the line so she looked desperately around for another distraction.
A bin of stuffed toys was a welcome sight and Mrs. Granger pushed her cart over to it so her daughter could pick out something. A plush, white cat seemed like the best choice and she showed it to Hermione. "How about this cat? Feel how soft she is, Hermione." She pulled the small girl's fingers towards the stuffed animal, but the young girl yanked them back quickly.
"Dog!" She exclaimed as she pointed towards one creature in particular. The creature was not fluffy, but smooth-furred, and had a pair of yellow eyes.
"Oh, darling. That's not a dog," she said dismissively as she reached for a brown puppy that had a red bow tied around its neck. "Here is a dog. Look at its cute bow! Don't you like it?"
The little girl pushed it away and shook her head. "Dog, there," she pointed with growing determination.
Mrs. Granger sighed before picking up the silver-colored wolf. It was cute, in a way, but not soft and fluffy like most of the stuffed toys. She stroked its fur before handing it to her daughter, whose brown eyes lit up with happiness before snuggling it against her.
"Do you know what a wolf is?" The girl's mother asked. The little girl in response shook her head as her chubby fingers played with the stuffed animal's pointy ears. "A wolf is a wild animal. It is not like a dog that you can play with and let live in your home. No, they live in forests in family groups, called packs, and they can be dangerous," her mother said with a clipped, academic tone.
Her daughter's brown eyes were wide like that of a doe's. Hermione was always listening, which seemed unnatural for her age. Her parents sometimes referred to her as an old soul. Mrs. Granger paused before adding, "But, they can be very loyal to the ones they love, very protective. They also howl, which is kind of like singing." She began to push the cart back towards the checkout line while her daughter continued to clutch her new friend
"Why don't we call him Mister Wolfe? That's a nice, dignified name. What do you think?"
The two-year-old smiled before nodding in agreement.
oOoOoOo
"If I have to file one more dragon dung sighting I am going to absolutely lose it," the wizard muttered as he stared at the piles of papers in front of him. It was the height of the dragon migration season and with more dragons moving through the area there had also been an influx of… waste. At first he had thought it was quite funny until he read one report detailing of how a small house had been almost crushed by the stuff.
"Mr. Lupin!" The low, dry voice of Remus' superior, Mr. Zaxby exclaimed. The had a portly figure with small spectacles that dug into his nose and cheeks. "Did you finish filing the reports on the Koelzer Affair?"
The young man's face grew slightly pale at the mention of it. Remus remembered the summary report stating how the Koelzer family had been attacked by a werewolf while camping. The mother and daughter had escaped relatively unharmed, while the father, who had attempted to hex the beast, had been tragically bitten. The report had included pictures that had made his insides turn and he knew the attack would ignite the passing of even more anti-werewolf legislation; stories like this always did.
"Mr. Lupin?" The man asked again with an annoyed snort.
"Yes! I mean… I finished filing about half of it." Remus was now fidgeting uncomfortably with his tie that seemed now ridiculously too big for him. Sirius would have barked with laughter at the sight of him confined to a desk and quill all day long.
"What do you mean only half? Is that what you are paid for, boy? Do you get paid for doing only half a job?" He was the kind of man that threw spit every time he talked and soon Remus felt a droplet hit his face, causing him to recoil with disgust.
"I apologize, Mr. Zaxby. I was not feeling well last week due to my, err… condition. I assure you that I will get it done as soon as possible," the young wizard finished as he stared carefully at the squinty-eyed man.
"Your condition?" The older man growled, his face turning a dark purple shade. "Is that what they call it? You may have friends in high places, boy, but I refuse to not address you for what you are." His blue eyes were icy. "A half-breed," he spat. "Working in the Ministry too! It's only a matter of time before somebody is filing a report that you were the cause of."
Remus felt heat bathing his entire body. Sure, he had heard the muttering and the stares ever since he had walked into the Ministry, but never had he been so openly attacked for his lycanthropy. Before he even knew it he was standing up behind his desk and was yanking the ridiculous tie from his neck, teeth bared. "I am officially handing in my resignation, Mr. Zaxby." He flicked his wand in the air, a piece of parchment appearing in its wake, before smacking it down loudly against the desk. Now everyone was staring.
"Good day," he growled a little too ferally, which caused the plump man to back up a few paces. Remus gave a satisfied snort before grabbing his briefcase and stalking past his former superior. Dumbledore may have made the Ministry give him a job but could never erase the prejudice that filled the damn place.
oOoOoOo
"Incendio!"
Flames escaped from the tip of Remus' cypress wand and licked the logs within the dusty fireplace of his cottage. The wood popped and cracked under the intense heat, and once sufficiently smoldering, the young wizard gave another flick of his wand to open the flue. He turned a brief glance at the tie still clutched in his fist before casting it into the fire and watching it ignite with satisfaction.
Remus had always wanted to be an Auror before he had graduated Hogwarts. He had met the academic requirements, of course, but training was rigorous and he didn't have a chance to even consider the path before he and his friends were swept up into the Order. They probably wouldn't have accepted a bloody werewolf anyway, he mused darkly. Not to mention he would have been potentially trained by none other than Mad-Eye Moody, which he figured, had the potential to be worse than a stint in Azkaban.
The green-eyed man began to shed the rest of his stuffy clothes in the firelight and with each layer he felt more liberated. He was far too young to sit at a desk all day and listen to the gabbing of old, ignorant wizards. He let his hands run through the locks of his hair and sighed, the warm hues of the flames accentuating lean, muscular arms. His chest was not chiseled but still pleasingly defined and it was highlighted by a splay of silver ribbons that stretched down towards his navel, right before a patch of darker hair began. The amber bottle of Firewhiskey tempted him from above the fireplace, but he knew a much better way to distract himself.
He kicked off his shoes, leaving only his trousers on, before walking towards a shelf that was overstuffed with books. His fingers caressed across each spine before finally settling on what he had been looking for: 'A Study of Half-Humans, Myths Revealed.' He carefully pulled it from the shelf before sinking into the couch and finding the desired chapter.
"… There have been many theories regarding the existence of magically-based bonds between a werewolf and what has been referred to as their "true mate." My experiences with the werewolf packs of Lisburn verified the rareness of this phenomenon. Even being one of the oldest packs on record, the elders could only recall the story of one such bonded pair within their history. Despite this, it seemed the story was quite important to the pack; the younger generations in the particular. The romanticized notion of having a "true mate" is a powerful one for the packs and I prodded further in questioning them about the mechanics of the bond to better understand it.
I was informed that the bond is predestined between a pair and exists before birth, and exists even after the death of one's intended mate. It is also differs in that, unlike a marriage bond, it cannot be broken once sealed. A true sealing, however, requires a rather archaic ritual involving "marking" ones said mate through a bite. While this does not have to be done during a transformation, it has been agreed upon by the packs that only those with magic in their veins can be a "true mate". This may be why Muggles so often fall victim to the bite of a werewolf, while magical ones can survive and even be turned.
Identifying one's "true mate" is experienced through tangible and intangible means. The magical pull is apparently the greatest factor that draws one toward their predestined, but the sight and smell of a mate can also evoke strong ties and desires. The beast-form of the werewolf is the most susceptible to these drives due to its animal instincts; this side is what often initially discovers the bond. Werewolves that separate themselves from their more animal side are less likely to feel the symptoms of said bond, yet will still feel an unnatural pull towards their mate.
If a werewolf discovers his "true mate" but does not seal the bond, his or her inner beast can grow more violent and unpredictable. According to the elders, however, the bond prevents even a transformed werewolf from harming its "true mate"…"
Remus eyed the text skeptically through green eyes that reflected the dancing flames from the fireplace. He had read the passage more times than he could count and it did little to quench his unease. The rest of the chapter had described accounts of true mates in other packs, including an old werewolf who had, on his death bed, found that the nurse who had attended him had been his true mate. Another part of the text described in great detail, the "sealing" ritual, which he quickly chose to avoid altogether after noticing some of its more intimate details.
He closed the book carefully and rested it upon the end table. He still wasn't certain how Dumbledore had known about the little girl in the first place but he wouldn't put anything past the ancient wizard, though. Dumbledore's head is filled with many things, he mused, and some are probably not bound by time.
While he hadn't seen the little girl since he had first discovered her existence, Remus had, however, researched her and her family. He had discovered that her birth name was Hermione Granger and she was born on the nineteenth of September. Her parents were dentists and had their own small practice in Liverpool. In less than a month, Hermione would be turning three.
He wasn't sure what he wanted to do regarding the child. Part of him wanted to Apparate to one of the far corners of the world to live out the rest of his days, far from her. Yet another quieter part of him wanted to protect and watch over her and to see what kind of person she would grow into. According to Scamander's book she had to have magic within her to be his mate, which made her a Muggle-born witch.
Remus knew that if there was another group other than half-humans that faced just as much prejudice in the wizarding world it was Muggle-borns. 'You-Know-Who' in particular had tried his hardest to wipe out both Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards. Remus relished in the fact that his work with the Order had at least helped make the world a better, safer place for her in that respect. Prejudice was deep-rooted, though, and with every step forward there always seemed to be another step back. The whole belief that Muggles 'stole pure-blood magic' made him growl at the sheer level of ignorance.
Despite still simmering with anger the young man's mind strayed back to the girl's birthday. He didn't have much money to his name, especially after what happened at the Ministry… and he couldn't just send her something enchanted either. He let one hand scratch the stubble on his chin thoughtfully as the taste of chocolate crossed his mind. Bollocks, her parents are dentists. That wouldn't work either.
She was also too young for books and just about anything else. So instead he imagined what would have happened if his friends had never passed and if things had never gone down such a dark path. For Harry's third birthday, he could see Sirius surprising him with his very own hatchling Hungarian Horntail, which would have very well made Lily start the Second Wizarding War. She probably would have hexed him until he promised to return the thing back from whence it came, and the damn troublemaker would have probably transfigured the overgrown lizard back into the puppy that it truly was.
The thought made him smile briefly before remembering that the scenario had never, and would never, exist. No, his traitor of a friend was sitting in Azkaban right now with only the Dementors to comfort him. Remus didn't know why he still flinched painfully at that fact and it made him decide that maybe he did need a couple sips of Firewhiskey tonight.