Me no own. This came about because Lavender has to have parents.

Gain (Us of Lesser Gods, June 2002)

Paul Brown sat at his desk and waited for his assistant, Sam Latham, to arrive. He was going to have to tell Sam that he would be out of the office for several hours so as to meet his daughter's ministry-assigned fiance. Lavender had owled him and his wife, Rosemary, asking if it was all right for all of them to meet at ten a.m. in order to get used to each other. She said that the Carl Latham that she had been assigned to was very nice, though quite a bit older than her. Paul and Rosemary only cared about how their daughter was treated, especially with her werewolf status.

As Sam came in, Paul wondered if Carl were any relation to the potions professor at Hogwarts that Lavender had liked so well.

'"Sam," he said as he came in.

"Yes, Paul?" Having to come up with plausible muggle explanations for the various incidents of the war had broken down almost all formality between them.

"I'm going to be out of the office for several hours in order to meet my daughter's fiance. You know about the law."

Sam nodded. "I was going to ask to leace at about two to meet my father's fiance. Who did your daughter get?" Sam adkef, taking a sip of water from a bottle.

"A Carl Latham."

Sam managed to spray the wall in shock. "That's my dad. Your daughter is marrying my dad."

Paul blinked in shock. "So I am asking off to meet your father, and you are asking off to my daughter."

"Apparently." Sam smirked.

"Does he look anything like you?"

"Nah. I'm adopted. He adopted me when he married my mother. That's never mattered to either of us, though." He pulled out his wallet. "This of him and two of his brothers last Christmas. He's the one on the right, the one in the middle is my Uncle Dale, and the one on the left is my Uncle Ev."

Paul looked at the picture. The man on the right had dark chestnut hair, a moustache, and a kind, good-natured look about him. The three brothers who all bore a marked resemblance to each other when it came to coloring, were obviously very close. "Is your father any relation to the potions professor at Hogwarts?"

Sam laughed. "Yes. That's Uncle Ev. He's got a daughter a little younger than yours."

"I've met Amy several times, and like her far better thsn the girl Lavender is living with. I just didn't make the connection. How is your father about werewolves?" Paul knew that Everett Latham had been very kind to both Lavender and Remus Lupin, and Lavendrt had said that one time when he had been ill, one of his brothers who was also a potions master had brought a batch of wolfsbane that he had been working on and had filled in for his brother in class.

"Dad's devoted his life to improving wolfsbane as well as trying to delay or even prevent the long-term health issues associated with werewolfism. He's head of the Investigative Healing Department at St. Mungo's." He quirked his mouth, a nervous habit that he had picked up from his father. "His department doesn't get a lot of publicity, nor does his research. Mostly because it is so recent, both wars, and becsause it is stuff a lot of people just don't want to think about." He sighed. "He views werewolfism as a chronic disease, like muggle diabetes, though he compares the level of prejudice and lack of education to the muggle disease HIV, to be managed, rather than something that should cause you to be shunned, be unable to get a job, or live a mostly normal life.

Paul noddef. There was still a great deal of prejudice in the wizarding world about werewolves. Those who were known to be werewolves often had a hard time getting and keeping employment, rarely married, and were shunned by many, even if they took precautions and could obtain wolfsbane on a regular basis. It had only been the desperatiob of the ministry to boost the population that had led to werewolves being considered human enough to marry under the Repopulation Act, though Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was now Minister of Magic, and his vice-minister, Eugene Cummings, both haf no problems themselves with werewolves. Cummings Paul knew to be a decent man who had been able to maintain an outward appearance of neutrality, if not silent support, of Voldemort's ideals, all the while funneling money, information, and defectors to the light. Eugene had had nearly everyone fooled, though Kingsley, Dumbledore, the late Alastor Moody, and oddly, Draco Malfoy, had known the truth. Well, perhaps not so oddly on Draco's part. He had humbled himself to the very man he was supposed to kill, and in return he had been connected to a network of people in both the muggle and wizarding worlds that taught him how to observe while seeming to be uninterested, how to lie well, and how to just survive. He had humbled himself, he had said while addressing the court at his trial, because he did not want to be a third-generation lapdog to a truly insane man, and he had learned enough of human genetics to know that if pureblood families only bred with pureblood families, they would, and, dare he say it, already almost had, breed themselves out of existence. He also had observed half-bloods and muggleborns that were just as, if not more, capable than he was. Magic was so new to them that they did not take it for granted as many purebloods did. Most of the muggles that helped in the war effort had family that were witches or wizards, were squibs or married to squibs, or were foreign-born from countries that, like the US, did not have a Statute of Secrecy at all, or the laws were looser. It had led him to conclude that a lot of the pureblood doctrine that had been fed to him his entire life was a lie. The other thing that had come out was how horrible Lucius had been to his wife and son. While he had never directly laid a hand on his son, the pressure to be the perfect Malfoy was unreal, and lapses were not tolerated. Curses were frequent as were cutting words. For Narcissa, she was virtually Lucius' prisoner rather than his wife. Any real or perceived slight or mistep, any request for a kindness, any deviation from what Lucius wanted (though he was never clear WHAT he wanted), was treated with physicsl violence and curses that, even with magic, would incapacitate her for several days. Apparently, Abraxas had been a restraint on Lucius while he was alive, but could do nothing for his daughter-in-law and grandson dead. Draco was smart enough to realize that things would more than likely get worse for his mother, who he loved more than anyone, and himself, if Voldemort won. He would be forced to marry Pansy Parkinson, who would be Lucius' spy, so he would never be free. That intelligence had been enough to save him by leading him to humble himself to Dumbledore.

Paul returned from his musings to see Sam regarding him curiously. "Don't you think you'd better be preparing your wife to meet my dad?"

"Yes, yes, I guess I ought to be doing that." Paul was hopeful now that he felt his daughter just migjt be gaining rather than losing in this law after all.