Chapter 36 - Of Trust and Cats

"How can you trust him so, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled at Lupin; his mistrust of Fenrir was as warranted as the Weasley's, possibly more so, but he was still willing to let him into his home. Although, now that she thought about it, he probably did not have a choice. Contemplating his question further, she set down the stack of dishes she had been holding and sat across the table from the werewolf.

When had she truly started to trust him? It was a question she had not contemplated often; it had happened so slowly, it seemed. But— there was one incident that came to mind.

"He saved me from Bellatrix." she said simply.

"From the snatchers?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. But no." Hermione shook her head. "After that." Her heart leapt into her throat when she recalled the first time Fenrir came home after Bellatrix had tortured him; he had been so weak, and all he thought about was her. "He protected me from You-know-who. He—" her voice shook slightly with emotion, "wouldn't give me up, and he was tortured for it."

"Was that enough?" Lupin had a concerned look on his face; he could always tell when she was upset. In fact, he was always very perceptive. Much more so than so many people she had met; before the other werewolves, that is. Perhaps he had not completely repressed that side of himself.

"No, not entirely." She admitted. "I did feel…" she paused to find the right word, "safer after that, but I couldn't say that I trusted him. I appreciated what he did; but I certainly did not expect him to do it again."

The man across the table looked at her with a quizzical brow. "Again?"

"I— I ran away. It was my fault it had even happened in the first place. I had made it to York, but Bellatrix was there. I— I was lucky Fenrir was along too. There was nothing I could do. I watched her torture him, and I couldn't help him. I— I'd rather she tortured me again; it was my fault, and he still protected me. If Rodolphus hadn't shown up... He wasn't angry afterward...He just wanted me to be alright…" She trailed off, not willing to betray the rest of her thoughts. In that moment, when Fenrir's golden eyes glazed over with pain and tears streamed down his strong cheeks, she would have told Bellatrix anything to get her to stop. It was a thought that haunted her.

"Hermione.."

She jumped at Harry's voice. She had no idea he had come in from the kitchen.

"Why didn't you tell us? I had no idea—"

Suddenly very grateful she had not voiced her other thoughts aloud, Hermione shrugged. "I—I guess I was afraid that you wouldn't believe me."

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, abruptly taking a seat next to her, "When have you ever been wrong? Especially about something so serious?"

Hermione looked at her friend with tears in her eyes. She flung her arms around Harry.

"I didn't think you trusted me…"

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I do trust you. That night...in the forest. I was scared; I shouldn't have gotten so upset at you. I know Ron feels the same way. When we found out Greyback had you…"

Hermione pulled away and nodded, wiping a few stray tears from her face. The two smiled at each other, now forgiven. The witch looked at her black-haired friend; perhaps, when she was ready, she could tell Harry about Fenrir. She should've had more faith in him.

"What did you mean, Hermione?" Lupin spoke up quietly from across the table.

The two glanced over at the man, both sporting confused expressions.

"About Rodolphus."

Hermione nodded and tried not to think too hard on the details of that horrid afternoon. "He stopped Bellatrix. I don't think he cares for her." She was reluctant to reveal the conversation that she had heard between the elder Lestrange and the werewolf, but she decided to give the gist. "He won't protect her."

Remus nodded, but did not say any more on the subject, his gaze suddenly thoughtful.

"I know you don't believe me, but you can trust Fenrir." She said to both of them, but hoped her statement had more meaning for Remus.

Harry nodded, "I understand why you trust him a bit more, Hermione. I will try. I can't promise anything."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Harry. Thank you." She said quietly.

"Why on earth should we trust him‽" Ginny Weasley's voice cut shrilly over the noise in the kitchen. The three sitting at the table turned sharply to see the redhead glaring at Tonks. It seemed there was a similar conversation going on in the adjacent room, that was not going nearly as well.

Hermione stood and stalked into the kitchen, on the brink of rolling her eyes once more. Harry was right behind her.

"Ginny," Harry said calmly, moving toward the girl, "I think we should give him a chance."

"Now you're defending him too‽ He tried to kill my brother!"

"Ginny, calm down." Hermione cautioned, "Your voice carries."

"Let him hear me," she snarled. "Ron is right, he's just a monster."

Hermione met the red-head's eyes in a determined stare. "I never said he wasn't." She began, her quiet voice somehow causing a hush to fall over the entire space. "I, for one, would rather the monster be on our side. Wouldn't you?" She gave a glare around the room; after the first pass, no one seemed quite willing to meet her eyes.

Molly Weasley was the first to speak, as usual, "Well, I think Hermione's given us all something to think about, but right now we need to see about cleaning up. Everything is still a mess! Hop to it!"

Hermione sighed, a slight smile on her face, and went back into the dining room. Remus was still sitting at the table. He had not moved to help either side of the argument in the kitchen; not even to defend his wife.

"You can't stay neutral forever, Remus." She said quietly as she continued to pile up the plates.

"You sound like Fenrir," he grumbled quietly.

"Maybe that's a good thing." She replied, her voice soft. This was a conversation that was best left between the two of them. "He hasn't hurt me, Remus. From all the stories I heard, I should be dead; but I'm not. I am not even a werewolf, and he had every opportunity to change that."

"And that gives you reason to trust him?"

"Not entirely, but you heard the rest of the story." She said, her voice still calm and quiet. "I don't know how to explain it in any other way. I've watched him, Remus, he cares more than you think. You need to give him a chance too."

"Did he bite you?" Remus asked soberly.

Hermione felt her hand fly up to her neck before she had even thought about the question he had asked.

"That's what I thought." His lip was curled slightly as he rose out of his seat. "I appreciate your concern, Mistress, but you are not as far removed from this as you like to think. It is of far more interest to you to keep your mate happy than to worry about the rest of us." He snarled, albeit quietly.

She raised her eyebrows at him when his eyes met hers; suddenly very aware of his attitude; his disrespectful attitude. She glared up at him, biting back the slightest urge to growl at the werewolf. The thought shocked her; Fenrir's bite had done far more than she had anticipated, it seemed. She had never had even the smallest inkling to growl at something before, but the look Remus was giving her brought it nearly surging to the back of her throat. She swallowed thickly instead and crossed her arms.

The werewolf did not react beyond a slight twitch in his eye.

"Sit!" Hermione commanded without thinking when a satisfied look crossed his face. Her mouth opened in shock when he immediately obeyed. His eyes were wide and he looked more shocked than she felt.

She frowned at him once more until his eyes dropped slightly; satisfied with the state of things, she spoke once more. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Remus. You should know better. You can't leave Tonks any more than I can leave Fenrir, but that does not mean I care less for any of you! I may not be a werewolf, but I will take care of the pack. That includes you and your family, Remus; whether you like it or not. Everyone else can see it, why can't you?"

He glared up at her, "That's not what I see."

"You've never seen anything but a monster, Remus."

"He is a monster. Even you see that." Remus snarled back.

"Even monsters have a family." She said quietly, " And if you think that's all there is to him, you need to look around a bit more. He didn't hurt me. Just like you won't hurt Tonks, or Teddy. You trusted him enough to let him into your house; and yet you watch him like he's a rabid dog."

"I'm sure that grates on his nerves." Remus said, his voice seemed to be hovering on the edge of a growl. Hermione was fairly certain Remus growled less than she did; and she never had. Something was happening to him, and she was not certain it was good.

After a moment, he seemed to calm down; he looked slightly horrified at himself. His jaw was tight and he was trembling slightly.

Hermione continued to stare at him. He was holding something back; and Hermione had a suspicion that it was his own instincts he was trying to swallow. She could not entirely blame him; hadn't she just done the same thing? Of course, to her, it was all new; Remus had been dealing with his his entire life. He had never slipped up before. Was Fenrir's presence affecting him that much? As she watched Lupin calm down once more, she realized that he was not as afraid of Fenrir as he was of himself. Trusting Fenrir meant trusting himself, and he did not seem to be able to do that. It had taken him so long to even allow himself to be around Tonks.

"Don't worry, Remus." She said softly, picking up the stack of dishes, "It will get better."

She left him sitting at the empty table, his curious eyes following her through the doorway.

Fenrir ran a hand through his hair, the tie that normally held it back long gone. He had stalked up the stairs to the library as soon as he heard the beginnings of an argument in the kitchen. He had stayed long enough to hear Hermione's talk with Lupin, but he had not wanted to hear another argument about how he could not be trusted, even if he knew his mate would defend him. She was going to be upset afterward; she usually was. And she would do what she seemed to do every time she needed some space; come up to the library. She would be here eventually; and he wanted nothing more than to spend a more than a few god-forsaken seconds with her.

He gave a grudging glance at the books on the surrounding shelves, but was too irritated to look closely at the titles. His mind was too preoccupied to read. He knew Hermione did it to relax, but he was not fortunate enough to have that gift. He did not have the patience for a book this evening. He settled in an armchair, grimacing when the sounds of the Weasley girl's shrill voice carried through the walls.

For more than once in the last few days, Fenrir cursed his keen hearing. He did not want to hear everything; not here. Once the sound from the Weasleys had died down, the noise leveled off to a dull murmur. He could not make out words from here; and he was partially grateful. He did smile a bit when he heard Hermione's voice waft up from the floor below. Curious, he opened the door and stood in the doorway, leaning up against the doorframe as Hermione spoke to the Weasley girl. He could not help but grin when he heard her new defense tactic; apparently, agreeing with them on his status as a mindless murderer was the best way to get them to trust him. He knew very well that what she said was true, but he also knew that she knew far more than that. He snorted as the conversation came to an abrupt end and the sound of the household busily working replaced the angry voices.

Fenrir closed the door and turned around, starting when a ball of orange fluff stared up at him from the small side table. The werewolf stared back at it; its yellow eyes a reflection of his own. He sniffed the air, wondering how it had snuck past him. It jumped off the table and walked towards him. He continued to frown at it; he knew the creature was Hermione's friend, but he had never particularly gotten along with cats, not that he had much experience with the creatures. He eyed it suspiciously as it rubbed up against his leg, cocking his head to the side when it began to rumble. He squatted down as the cat circled him, performing its strange ritual. It did not smell like other creatures; he had no idea if the thing was happy, or angry, or even scared. There was nothing, despite the intelligence in its eyes. It had its own scent, certainly, but Fenrir had no frame of reference for what it meant; or if it changed at all. Taking a chance, he reached down to pet it on the head. It moved into the pressure, the rumbling getting louder.

It seemed that the rumbling was a happy sound, Fenrir decided as the cat begged him for attention. At least one creature in the house seemed to trust him, even if it was the last one he expected.

A/N: There it is, the beginnings of truth. Hey, Harry's being reasonable; someone has to be, right? And I love Crookshanks interacting with Fenrir. I'm sure they'll have some misunderstandings, but I think they're good for now.