A/N: "Hey readers! Thank you for all the awesome support! Enjoy!" - E

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oOoOoOo

"Oh, Remus!" Molly cried upon opening the door, ushering him inside. "I'm so glad you could make it! It's been ages! Please, let me take your coat!"

Remus handed her a bottle of wine and glanced around the room. Unsurprisingly, The Burrow had been decorated to the extreme for the Holidays. Tinsel and frost clung to every surface, and Remus spotted not one, not two, but three Christmas trees. Most of the Weasley clan was there, all except for Percy and Charlie, as well as Harry and a pretty, blonde girl Remus assumed was Bill's fiancée, Fleur.

Molly took his coat. "We have eggnog in the kitchen—"

"Perfect."

"And a little Firewhiskey or rum if you want to kick it up a notch—"

"Even better."

Remus found his way into the kitchen. Molly had a dozen pots and pans humming with movement, the spoons somehow stirring their contents along with the music, and Remus made his way to the pitcher of mentioned eggnog. He poured himself a glass, topping it off with a heavy dollop of Firewhiskey.

It was strange being back here. Remus hadn't been with the werewolves for very long, but he had become used to open skies and now found the small house warm and confining. He returned to the living room. Bringing the glass of eggnog to his lips, he drank deeply. His hands were still shaking slightly, his earlier anger and annoyance still in the front of his mind.

The day-to-day life within the Carnival was exhausting and significantly more work than he'd expected. There was magic within the community, yes, but it was used sparingly. Even when the Carnival moved location, it meant a full day breaking everything down for transport, then another day putting it all back together again, manual labor and elbow grease getting the job done. Remus was trying his best to communicate with the wolves, listening in on their conversations and collecting rumors, but the news always felt second hand. After almost four months, there was still no sign of Fenrir, no more information of the rumors surrounding Hogwarts, and when Remus finally found their missing brewer, Beck Cassidy, he had been dead for almost a week.

Remus finished his drink, and was instantly eager for another. On his way back to the kitchen, he caught a snippet of Harry's conversation with Arthur.

"They were arguing—but Snape was definitely trying to help Malfoy with something!" Harry explained. "He said things like 'I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you.' He even mentioned an unbreakable vow."

Taking a couple days away from Rojin's pack, Remus had visited Hogwarts that morning. On The Headmaster's orders, Snape was still brewing the wolfsbane for Remus. It wasn't an ideal situation, but aside from picking up his monthly wolfsbane, it became a good excuse to meet with Dumbledore and give his reports. However, as Remus came up the curving stair to the Headmaster's Office that morning, the sound of raised voices made him pause at the door.

Remus listened to the sound of shouting, but everything was muddled, so he knocked. A moment later, Dumbledore called him in. Remus stepped into the office. Snape was facing Dumbledore, his face damp with sweat and his hands balled up in fists, while Dumbledore, too, looked troubled, his face unusually dark.

"Sir?" Remus moved further into the room.

"Ah," Snape huffed, looking over at him. "The mutt is here—I think I'll take my leave."

He pulled out two bottles of wolfsbane and set them down heavily upon Dumbledore's desk. With a flurry of robes, Snape turned and crossed the room, past Remus, and to the stair. When the door slammed shut, Remus turned back to Dumbledore.

"Sir?" he asked again. "Is everything alright?"

But Dumbledore waved him off. "Please, don't mind Severus. He works very hard—ah!"

Dumbledore pulled his shriveled hand to his chest, wincing in pain from where it had bumped into the side of his desk. Remus moved in, leaning closer to inspect the Headmaster's hand.

"It's getting worse—?"

"Remus."

"If it's spreading, that could mean a number of things. Curses like this—"

"Remus, please sit down," Albus Dumbledore moved towards his chair and sat down with a sigh, his blackened arm gingerly placed in his lap. "Pay no attention. I have Severus watching it for me."

Remus took a seat before the headmaster. "Do you think that's wise?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've heard reports from a couple packs Fenrir's been courting," Remus explained, uneasy, as he looked down at the blisters upon his hands "I mentioned it last month. He's still bragging that a plan is in motion… a spy within the Order and Hogwarts."

"And you suspect Severus?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes were locked on him, and Remus hesitated. There was no denying the strange connection and loyalty between Dumbledore and Snape. He just wondered how far that loyalty went.

"After everything that happened with Peter and Sirius, I've become wary. Besides, you've had a couple attacks already, right? Katie Bell? Ron?" He asked. "That's very serious. Are you at least considering—?"

"It seems Nymphadora's been filling you in," Dumbledore leaned closer, a frown upon his face. "However, I don't know if I appreciate you undermining my decisions and loyalties like this."

Remus was taken aback. "Sir!"

"We've been fighting this together a long time, Remus," The Headmaster continued, his voice stern. "Where is this sudden questioning coming from?"

For a long moment Remus didn't answer, his uneasiness growing at the strange confrontation. Coming here that morning, his report had been on the front of his mind, the rumors about Hogwarts specifically. He'd practiced his argument, and so Remus took a deep breath.

"I don't know if my work within the packs is really the best use of my time."

"Oh?"

"During the first war I was away so much, doing similar work as I am now. I—I've always wondered if things would've turned out differently if I'd been involved more," Remus leaned forward, eager. "You talked to me about Hogwarts once—let me come back! Let me help from where things are happening, here!"

For every day Remus managed to get good work done for the order, there were five where he was just working at a carnival, setting up rides and peeling potatoes. He'd been fighting this fight for so long, but now he felt restless, unused. Remus sat on edge, hoping Dumbledore would understand this. However, after a long moment's thought, the Headmaster sighed and shook his head.

"No."

Standing in the Weasley's Living room, Remus took another sip of his eggnog. Dumbledore's words had been upon his mind the rest of the day, and his annoyance grew as he listened to Harry and Arthur talk.

"Has it occurred to you, Harry," said Arthur. "That Snape was simply pretending—?"

"Pretending to offer help, so that he could find out what Malfoy's up to? Yeah, I thought you'd say that. But how do we know?"

"It isn't our business to know," interrupted Remus. They turned as he walked over to them. "It's Dumbledore's business. Dumbledore trusts Severus, and that ought to be good enough for all of us."

"But, just say—just say Dumbledore's wrong about Snape—"

"People have said it, many times," continued Remus, looking down at his glass. "It comes down to whether or not you trust Dumbledore's judgment… I do; therefore, I trust Severus."

Soon everyone was called to dinner. Molly had outdone herself, and, bad mood aside, Remus was genuinely happy to sit down with them and dig in. He had been living off raw meat and carnival food for the last several months, and a proper, home-cooked meal was heaven. Harry sat next to him, George on the other side, and Remus couldn't help smiling as Fleur and Molly fought over who served the mashed potatoes.

"I invited dear Tonks to come along today, but she wouldn't come," Molly chimed suddenly. "Have you spoken to her lately, Remus?"

A knot grew in his stomach and his smile fell. The Weasley matriarch watched him from further down the table. A knowing smile was upon her face, and Remus tried to keep his expression indifferent.

"No," he lied. "I haven't been in contact with anybody very much. But Tonks has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"

"Hmmm, maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."

Remus shrugged, scooping mashed potatoes onto his plate. No matter how much Remus wanted things with Dora to be kept quiet, and how little he actually got to see her, people were beginning to figure it out. Their relationship was a point of gossip, exactly the thing he tried to avoid, and the reason Dora wasn't there that evening.

"They are our friends!" Dora had shouted at him earlier that afternoon. "Why shouldn't they know about us?"

"Its just—it's none of their business. Look, we can go separately—"

"What, you leave here for the Weasley's, and I follow fifteen minutes later? Act like we haven't seen one another? That's absurd!"

Remus sighed. "Dora, if people knew you were seeing a werewolf, your reputation—"

"Oh, don't give me that again! You always make it sound like you are protecting me from something—"

"You don't get it. I'm not normal—you can't expect something normal from me!"

"That is the weakest fucking excuse I've ever heard!" she held up her arms, exasperated. "You spend your days trying to convince werewolves that they can live as normal humans, but when I try to get something human from you, you back away, saying you can't commit because you're a werewolf. Come on! What the fuck is that?"

God, she was so naive. Remus was already having a bad day. The talk with Dumbledore on his mind, the moon pulling as it did, he'd left Dora alone at his house on the moor. "Tonks patronus has changed its form," said Harry a short while later. "Snape said so anyway. I didn't know that could happen. Why would your Patronus change?" Remus frowned. Dora had mentioned seeing Harry off to school at the start of term, but this news about her patronus changing it's form was a surprise.

Desert was soon passed out, and as Remus started on his slice of fruitcake, he was joined by Ginny. He listened as the young girl talked about the Hogwarts Quidditch League and how the school year was progressing.

"I should be studying for OWLs over break, but I'm just so happy to get away for a bit," she shook her head. "Hermione gave me her study schedule from last year, but there's just no way I could keep up. Nobody has that much time."

"Yes," Remus nodded. "I'm surprised Hermione isn't here."

"Nope, spending the Holiday with her parents."

"I see."

Remus stared into the space in front of him, her words turning in his head. Behind him, the wireless played "Icicles on my Broomstick," the old song hauntingly familiar as the twins pulled out boxes of Christmas Crackers. The Holiday season always pulled at him, the years blending into one another. The scene was so familiar he couldn't quite tell if he was thirteen or thirty. With the soft, falling snow and the warmth of the hearth, he could be ten-years old again, a quiet familiar Christmas Eve with his parents, dreaming of the presents that awaited him the following morning. Then with the sound of the twin's laughter and the sting of alcohol on his tongue, he was back at James' house for the Holidays, planning that infamous trip to Brighton.

It was the tradition, perhaps, that made time repeat itself. And so he thought of her. Hermione.

The last time the full moon had been so close to Christmas had been the year he'd spent with her. The whole day had been spent in his bed, and even though Remus had been recovering, with Hermione there it hardly felt like a sickroom. They had talked and laughed, eaten way too much candy and played half a dozen games of Exploding Snap and Gobstones. It had been perfect. Simple and perfect.

No.

He finished off his glass of wine and stood. He had enough on his mind at the moment, and the last thing he needed was her.

oOo

Hermione leaned against the wall and yawned. Shoppers passed by her, talking loudly, their hands full of bags and coats as they tried to hold onto their children. Lights flickered overhead, a commercial wonderland, and over the department store speakers, Christmas music was playing. Hermione shifted the heavy shopping bag to her other hand, rubbing her cramped fingers along her jeans, and glanced at her watch. It was going on six. They had a dinner reservation in less than an hour, and her father was running late.

Hermione had intended to spend the day catching up on some reading, but then her father had walked in and confessed that, three days before Christmas, he hadn't actually gotten Hermione's mother anything. "We had a dental convention earlier in the month," he tried explaining "And you know me, Minnie, I'm rubbish when it comes to shopping." So Hermione found herself in Harrods, packed in alongside the other last-minute shoppers, and after several hours of crowds, lines, and repetitive Christmas music, she was very eager to go home. Thankfully, Hermione soon saw her father through the crowd, his eyes scanning the room for her also. She waved and Peter Granger walked over, rolling his eyes as he pushed her way through the crowd of people.

"I love that your mother always tells me exactly what she wants, but it took me ages to find the correct size, and then the checkout line was impossible! Did you get the good chocolates?" he asked. Hermione nodded, holding up one of her bags. "Shall we go?"

Adjusting their heavy bags, they slowly joined the crowd trying to make their way towards the escalators.

"I've never seen Harrods so crowded," he huffed. "So many tourists—"

But Hermione wasn't listening. From across the crowded room, past dozens of holiday shoppers and hanging tinsel, stood two men—two men who were looking directly at her. They smiled at each other and began to move towards her. Hermione stopped, an old woman bumping into her awkwardly from behind.

"Dad," Hermione shifted her bags to her other hand and pulled out her wand. "Dad, let's go this way."

"What? No, that takes us back towards children's! I'm not dealing with that mess again—"

Ignoring his protests, Hermione led him down a side isle, unintentionally cutting off a large family who cursed at them in Italian as they passed. Glancing behind her, she spotted the two men again, their intentions all my more evident as they turned and followed in their direction.

Hermione pushed through the crowds, and they soon found herself outside the Children's Department, the sounds of screaming kids filling the air. She looked around. Near the entrance was a life-size, plush elephant, and Hermione moved towards it, placing herself and her father in the tight crevice between it and the door.

"Hermione, what on earth—"

"Shh!"

She raised her wand and closed her eyes. A quick rush through her memory, a turn of the wrist, and Hermione opened her eyes. Another version of herself stood in front of her, the edges slightly transparent, but a close enough ringer. The copy then turned and joined the crowd, moving further into the children's department. Hopefully, whomever was watching the security cameras wasn't looking too closely.

Right as her own, curly head vanished around a corner, Hermione spotted the two Death Eaters. Yes, they were definitely Death Eaters. To the muggles, their cloaks may look like strange overcoats, but they also held in their hands. They took the bait and moved past Hermione and her father, following the copy instead.

Hermione watched as they walked around the corner and out of sight. Thankfully, her father seemed to notice Hermione's seriousness, and when she asked if he had his cellphone, he quickly fumbled through his pockets.

"I told you these were a good investment. The way of the future—"

"I need you to call mom," Hermione interrupted. "Do you think she's still at home?"

"Probably—what's all this about?"

"I'll explain later," she answered. "Let's go."

They moved out of the shadow of the elephant and back towards the escalators as her father dialed her mother on the phone. Hermione could feel sweat growing on her palms. Part of her wondered how on earth the Death Eaters found her, but another part wondered what had taken them so long.

"I'm not getting a signal in here," he said as they rode the escalator down to the next level.

Damn. Hermione scanned the floor directory upon the wall, relief filling her as she saw the sign for the WC and public phones. She pulled her father off the escalator.

The small hallway connecting to the bathrooms contained a couple phone boxes and a small couch, where a sleepy looking man was sitting, a dozen bags at his feet. Hermione directed her father to the other end of the couch, dumping her coat and bags in his lap, then ducked into the first phone box.

"Hello, Granger residence."

"Mum!"

"Hermione! Just caught me on the way out the door. Still on for dinner, that Argentinean place—?"

"Actually, dinner is off. We're heading home now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Dad's—er—sick of crowds, wants dinner at home or something."

"Well, I told him he was mad going to Harrods. When do you think you'll be back? If you want dinner here I may need to go by the store—"

"No!" Hermione screamed into the phone. "Please, mum. Just stay home! We'll be there shortly! We'll order in Indian or something. Please. Just stay home!"

"Well… alright."

"See you soon!" And she slammed the phone down.

Hermione took a deep breath. The house was secure enough, the Order had seen to that before they'd agreed she could return for the Holidays. She opened the door and stepped back out into the hall.

"Hermione," her father stood up, frowning. "What's going on? This is getting ridiculous—"

"We need to go."

Struggling with the weight of the shopping bags, Hermione held onto her father's arm, leading him from the alcove and back into the throngs of people. Frantically, she scanned the crowd for the Death Eaters. That spell only lasted about a minute. They would be looking for her again, and most definitely using magic to do so. Hermione moved through the department store, past rows of clothes and mannequins, past patrons who couldn't imagine the way her heart was beating in her chest. They had to get out.

Drawing close to the escalators again, she saw them. Barely a moment later, the Death Eaters spotted her too.

Hermione pointed her wand at a nearby table where, placed in a tall pyramid, sat about a hundred teddy bears."Reducto!" The spell hit, and one of the table legs shattered, the entire pyramid shifting. People screamed as the wave of bears knocked over shoppers, blocking the way between Hermione and the Death Eaters.

"Come on!"

The shopper's attention was drawn to the chaos, not noticing as Hermione and her father pushed their way onto the escalator or the two men rushing to keep up.

The escalator moved down, and Hermione turned to see one of the Death Eaters at the landing. He raised his wand, and a shot of red sparks flew her way. She pulled up a shield charm just in time, but the spell deflected, ricocheting into a nearby Christmas tree, which instantly burst into flames.

People began to scream, and Hermione was pushed down the rest of the escalator by the crowd. Taking her father's hand she ran blindly, relying on vague memories of the store's layout. Turning a corner she found herself on the edge of the massive food hall. Pushing past customers shopping for their Christmas hams and pudding, she suddenly felt a heat past her, as another shot of sparks barely missed her. It did, however, hit a large display of champagne bottles, which exploded in a shattering mess.

The chaos that ensued was a welcoming distraction. Seeing a door labeled "Employees Only," Hermione rushed towards it and burst through, Thankfully, the corridor was empty, and Hermione was able to break into a run, awkwardly pulling her father behind her. A few more turns through the winding labyrinth of concrete, Hermione saw the signs for the exit. She pushed through the door, out onto the street.

The cold air filled her lungs, the sound of cars and traffic a shocking contrast. Taking her father's arm again, she rushed around the corner to the main road. Outside the department store was a taxi stand where about a dozen people were waiting in line. She rushed towards the stand and jumped ahead of the queue. The taxi dispatcher, who had just let a couple out of a cab when she arrived, turned.

"Confundus!"

A vacant expression crossed his face for a moment, then he smiled, "Thank you for shopping at Harrods!" But Hermione barely awaited his response as she slid inside, followed by her father, ignoring the sounds of protest from the people whom had been waiting in line.

"Holland Park!" she shouted at the driver, and they were off.

The cab moved through London as fast as the Christmas traffic would allow, Hermione watching out the back window. As they continued down Brompton Road, she scanned the street as well as the skies, but, thankfully, didn't see the Death Eaters.

"Alright," started her father, his voice ragged from their running. "Hermione, what is going on!? Were those men after us?! I don't understand why—and look! You've lost your bag and your coat! I just don't understand—"

But Hermione wasn't listening. She closed her eyes and leaned back into the seat. Her heart was racing in her chest, anxiety and adrenalin at full strength. She rubbed her eyes.

"Are you even listening to me?!"

"Yes," Hermione answered. "I'm sorry, dad. Trust me… I'm so sorry."

oOoOoOo

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A/N: "Hey! Hope you liked it. Please review!"- E