Author's Note: Been longer than I meant to since my last update, but life has been hectic and there hasn't been much time to write. Bright side: I got to go to MakerFaire in NYC this month. Down side? Tons of prep at work to get us ready for MakerFaire. I'm exhausted. But I've got a chapter here, and I'll let you read it without me yammering on anymore. Yammering. I haven't used that word in a while. I should use it again. (Apparently moving heavy things all day makes me ramble.)

March: Waiting

Draco thrust his wand into Hermione's steaming cauldron. He felt some apprehension. In all their time together the last few months, they'd never done this before. It could all go wrong.

"Is it supposed to be that color?"

"I think so."

"Are you sure this is right?"

"Well, I've never done this before, but this is what the book says."

"A book." He gave an aggravated sigh, rotating his wand clockwise. "You really can't learn this thing properly from a book."

"Well, with Snape as a teacher, it was a wonder anyone could learn properly at all." She let out a sigh that seemed to empty all the air from her lungs. "At any rate, Harry needs this as soon as possible and there isn't time to contact anyone else. The man who asked for it knows the risks and is willing."

A wry smile crossed Draco's face. "I never thought I'd see the day where I was helping make a Wolfsbane Potion."

Hermione shrugged, doing her best to grate the thick root in front of her. "Well, it is what it is. I'm just glad that Theo was able to get us the rarer ingredients. Some of these are exceptionally hard to come by."

After the hearing on Tuesday they'd pretty much spent the rest of the evening attempting to forget about it. Well, Draco attempted to forget it, seeing as there wasn't anything to be done about it now. Hermione fretted a bit over whether or not she'd said something right, and pressed him for opinions on how he thought the council would vote. Eventually they'd moved on via their now usual method—a trip to Fortescue's.

Wednesday had started out as an ordinary day until Hermione received a visit from Harry, explaining his urgent need. A trip to visit Theo in Diagon Alley, and shortly after dinner Hermione and Draco had begun brewing the potion Harry needed. With the full moon as close as it was, there really wasn't time to spare.

"I still can't believe someone actually contacted Harry based on that write up from the other week. It's fantastic."

"Yes, werewolves coming out of the woodwork, it's brilliant," Draco said drily. The mere thought of Fenrir Greyback still gave him chills.

Hermione looked at him rather sourly. "Jamison can't help what he is. What he can do is take the Wolfsbane potion so that he's not going to bite anyone during the full moon, and come to Lupin's Lighthouse and learn some of the skills he was denied growing up. Where's the Aconite?"

They worked for some hours finishing the potion—Theo only dropped by with the final ingredient close to midnight, grumbling about making late night house calls, even for a so-called emergency.

Hermione glanced at the clock. Harry would be picking up the Wolfsbane potion this evening. She hoped it was brewed correctly. Brewing a complex potion you've never made before at two in the morning wasn't exactly ideal circumstances, but the man needed his potion tonight if he was going to have it for a full week before the full moon. Time was of the essence.

She put her signature on another sheet of parchment and sent it to her outgoing tray. It was amazing that no matter how much work she'd done last Friday, it still seemed there was mountains to catch up on yesterday and today. The problem, she thought to herself, isn't just the amount of work. The amount was problematic, yes, but manageable. The bigger problem was that as important as she felt it was to learn about how different magics interacted and try to warn people, other things were still pressing on her mind.

The results of the hearing were near the top of her list. After all, how persuasive she'd managed to be (or not be) was going to affect quite a few lives. And with as many members of the council as had been absent that day possibly having their votes delegated out to their proxies, there was no way to know how successful they would be. At least a few members had seemed totally unmoved by her arguments, and others she simply couldn't read at all. Not that she could do anything about it as this point, which was really the most frustrating part. She was simply going to have to wait the two weeks, take another day off of work, and go back for the judgment. As if she needed more stress.

Narcissa had been strangely quiet since her last letter on Saturday. It was unusual for her, given that they hadn't responded, and more than a bit ominous. She supposed they would have to make some sort of response—and soon—or the witch would have all the arrangements made and invitations sent out for a wedding that simply was not going to happen. The thought of facing her relatives in that instance was nauseating. She could hardly imagine how Draco would fare with his if they were anything like Narcissa.

Draco.

She rubbed her temples and managed to smear ink on her face. What was she going to do about him? She fancied him, that much was undeniable. But whatever they had right now—bizarrely intimate friendship though it was—had grown out of convenience. They were in rather close proximity of one another for extended periods of time, familiar with one another's habits and moods. In normal circumstances—if they were to start over, actually dating and not living with one another, would there be any chance of it working out?

It was ridiculous to wonder. Very little about either of them was normal on their own, and together, they were more than strange. Besides, Draco hadn't lost his Slytherin roots. She had no doubt that if he felt something towards her (which he didn't), he wouldn't hesitate to make it clear. As Narcissa had pointed out, Slytherins (and Malfoys) knew how to get what they wanted. Draco didn't want Hermione. Plain and simple.

Smith knocked on her door to let her know he was leaving.

"I hadn't realized how late it was. Go ahead, I'll lock up," she said. Within a few moments she had tidied her things, had her desk ready for the next morning, locked down the office for the night, and returned home to a hungry and annoyed kitten. Hermione had set up a shielding spell around the simmering cauldron, to keep the cat out of it.

Of course, the one place Monarch wanted to investigate was inside the cauldron on top of the table. Prudently, she fed the cat first and then took down her shielding spell while he was busy eating. She peered at it, smelled it, and dipped a wooden spoon in to check the texture. It all appeared to be the way it was described in the book. She raised the shielding spell again to blockade the cat from it and went to the kitchen to find something for dinner.

By the time Harry arrived, she had a neat plate of sandwiches ready. Draco still wasn't home yet, but she was hardly surprised. Moody had given the lot of them Tuesday off for the hearing. She wondered if he would make it home at all tonight or if Moody had taken them on a surprise over-nighter.

"I really appreciate you making this," he said, gesturing at the cauldron. "I know it was a lot of work on short notice, and you've got enough on your mind."

"Oh, it was fine. I appreciated the distraction. The hearing is over and all we can do now is wait. I was glad to have something to work on." She paused. "Would you mind if I tagged along with you tonight to meet Jamison? I'd love to speak to him, and see what else we can do for him, and how we can reach out to more people."

Harry gave it a moment's thought. "He's shy. If he doesn't react well to company…"

"I'll leave," Hermione promised. "Just have a sandwich and give a moment to leave a note for Draco." She found a sheet of parchment and a pen and told him sandwiches were in the fridge and that she was going to be at Lupin's Lighthouse. "I don't know when he'll be home. He normally is by now, but I suspect Moody's taking it out on them tonight for giving them Tuesday off. I wouldn't be surprised if he keeps them all overnight. I hope not though."

Harry looked around the room. He could see clear indicators of Malfoy in the flat: a book open facedown (Hermione always used bookmarks), a broom hooked into a rack behind the door…little things. Things that said Hermione wasn't here alone and that she was adapting to the presence. "I guess it will be strange for you, after the law gets repealed."

"Well, I do hope the law gets repealed. It will be one less thing for me to worry about. Strange, how?"

He bit his lip. Did she not know? Or had he been wrong? "Well. Draco. He's around all the time now. I don't imagine when it's all over he'll be around much. Won't that be strange?"

Hermione turned aside to look for something, hoping she wasn't blushing. She tried to keep her voice matter of fact. "Well, I'm not sure when he'll move out. We haven't really discussed the specifics yet of how we'll…dissolve our relationship. The advert in the newspaper and all of Narcissa's meddling make it so much more complicated. Not to mention what I'll say to my parents. It might be good to let things unravel slowly. It's not as if there isn't plenty of room here for both of us."

Almost unable to believe he was saying them, Harry let the next words out of his mouth as he secured a lid he'd brought for the cauldron. "Well, I hope you stay friends even if you have to break your fake engagement. I think he's been good for you. You seem more relaxed lately, even with everything going on."

She let out a breath that was most definitely not steady. There was a small smile on her face. "I have been more relaxed lately, even with everything going on. It will be weird, seeing less of him. But I don't want to loose touch with him entirely and go back to the way things were."

"Then make sure you don't. That's as much in your control as his. Let's get this back to the Lighthouse. I told Jamison I wouldn't be gone long." That was as much as he was willing to say on the subject. He hadn't gotten involved (much) when Ron and Hermione had danced around one another and eventually gotten together. If Hermione wanted to make things happen with Malfoy, that was her business. If she didn't want to make things happen with him, well that was her business too.

Hermione secured the cauldron's contents with two spells on the lid Harry had brought to keep anything from happening in transit. If she cooled it enough to put in a tupperware container it would lose it's potency, and she didn't have any sealable glass storage that was large enough.

The pair of them Apparated to the werewolf house. They hadn't wanted to risk any contamination of the potion in the Floo Network.

The first thing Hermione noticed when they arrived was that the garden was flourishing. She hadn't had time to see it in a while, but the plants all seemed to be doing well. Harry led her inside, and she could see that more changes had been worked indoors. The place was really started to take shape. She could see a sort of den area with a couple of couches, and several chairs and tables.

"I haven't gotten the potion lab set up yet, but that will be over on this side. The kitchen through there is pretty functional."

"It all really looks like it's coming along," Hermione said encouragingly. It wasn't done yet, not by a long shot, but she could see what it would all be—she rather imagined that the tables and chairs were where Harry intended to set up a classroom when he had time to wall it off. She didn't even see the man on the couch until he moved. He had been very, very still, watching them.

"Harry?" The voice was a little rusty with disuse, and there was a waver, as though the speaker wasn't sure of himself or his right to speak.

Harry turned towards the voice. "Jamison. This is my friend Hermione. She made the potion for you this week." He raised the arm that held the cauldron and moved carefully to set it on one of the tables behind the couch.

Jamison nodded ever so slowly. His eyes were red, and heavily lined. He shivered. His hair was shaggy and his pants were rather threadbare. Hermione recognized the sweater he was wearing as belonging to Harry. Though Harry wasn't a large man, the sweater hung loose on Jamison. It had probably been some time since he'd had proper meals at regular intervals.

"I'm pleased to meet you," Hermione said, offering her hand for him to shake.

He looked at it uncertainly and croaked, "Same to you."

"Is there anything else I can do that would make you more comfortable? I'm certain I've got some potions at home for general aches. Have you had supper yet? I should have brought you some sandwiches."

"I ate."

Harry looked between Jamison and Hermione for a moment. "I'm going to show Hermione the kitchen. We'll be back in a moment." The two friends made their way to the kitchen, Harry continuing to give a conversational tour, and Hermione making occasional comments in response. She saw that the kitchen had all of the essentials. There was an oven, though she wondered where he'd even found wood fire oven in this day and age. And a stove. As well as a refrigerator, though Hermione saw that it wasn't plugged in. "It's been converted to run on magic," Harry said, seeing where Hermione was looking.

"Make sure he's eating enough, and drinking enough water," Hermione said. "And you've done a lovely job in here," she added, realizing that maybe her first comment was a little abrupt.

"I will. I am. It's not easy to transition from not having enough to being able to have whatever you want. The body takes time."

"I know, I'm sorry. How long has he been on his own?" She saw that there was a table and chairs in one corner of the kitchen near the wood stove.

Harry raked his fingers through his hair. "He hasn't said a lot yet. I think he was bit a long time ago. He wasn't trained in magic, but I think he has the potential. I got the impression that his parents kept him in the basement, out of sight, out of mind, mostly. When they died a few years ago, his sister let him out, but then something happened and he was driven from the house. I don't know what. And I'm not going to pry." He gave her a look then and Hermione didn't even have to think twice to know that he didn't want her to pry either.

"You did explain the risks about the potion, right? And that I've never made it before?" she asked, changing topics.

"Yes. He said to lock him up, just in case. I think he really doesn't want to hurt anyone, but it has been a long time since he's been near people. When I can, I want to take him out—get him some shirts and things. I suggested it but…" He shrugged and trailed off.

"Not before he's ready. Where can I find a goblet that will be able to hold the potion? And a ladle?" she asked efficiently. Harry directed her to the things she needed and they returned to the den area. Hermione removed the spells on the cauldron's lid, while Harry found a more permanent home for it and lit a fire beneath it to keep it at the right temperature. Now that the potion was at the right consistency, it shouldn't burn off. Hermione ladled out the correct portion into a goblet and watched it smoke. She brought the goblet to Jamison. "I've never made this potion before. There are things that can go wrong if it's brewed incorrectly. I just wanted you to be aware—"

"I'll take my chances," he said quietly.

The interruption was the first sign of any sort of assertiveness she'd seen from him. "You'll want to drink a full goblet, every day, for a week before the full moon. It will taste vile, but unfortunately the potion is totally ineffective if you add sugar or anything to it to improve the taste. You'll still transform during the full moon, but you'll be able to remain in your own mind and spend the night as peaceful as if you hadn't transformed." He held his hand out for the goblet and when she passed it to him, he drank it in one long, slow swallow. He passed the empty goblet back to her and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"A bad taste in my mouth is the least of my worries."

It was the longest sentence he'd uttered yet, and Hermione felt encouraged. She sat on the couch across from the one he was on. "I'm glad you're here. Really, if there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask. If you want books, or tools, or potions, or just company, let me know and I'll be happy to help."

"I'll sleep." He rose to his feet and walked towards the stairs almost soundlessly.

Hermione watched him go, frowning to the point where her eyebrows almost met.

"I don't think he's used to much company," Harry said quietly. "Give him time. You come on a little strong."

"I guess there isn't anything else I can do here tonight, is there?"

Harry shook his head and explained that he was just going to take the situation day by day and see what happened. "I'm organizing for a healer to be here the day after the full moon, in case we need them."

"You'll let me know if there's anything else I can do, won't you?"

"You know I will. It's just going to take him some time. Come back in a day or two." The pair of them said their goodbyes and Hermione warned Harry to be sure that he took care of himself as well and make sure he got enough food and sleep.

Hermione was eating a sandwich for a rather late dinner at home when Draco finally made it back from training. "I wasn't sure you'd be back tonight. There are a couple of sandwiches in the fridge." She realized she was smiling—she was glad he'd made it back tonight. She was going to have to say something him sooner or later, and come to some sort of decision about whether or not she still wanted him here.

"I almost didn't make it back tonight. Moody sent us on a wild goose chase. But I found my way around it in the end. He said the winner could go home." There was a certain smug satisfaction to his voice, though every part of him seemed tense, although it was taking every ounce of effort not to just let himself slump into the room and collapse on the couch. Draco found the sandwiches and poured himself a glass of wine and joined her at the table rather than letting himself collapse on the couch.

They began to catch up on their days, and Hermione told Draco about her visit to the werewolf house. He was pleased that the potion hadn't had any immediate ill effects to say that they'd done it wrong, though he couldn't help snickering a little at the man running away when Hermione tried to be friendly. "You try too hard."

"No, I don't. Anyway, I just wanted him to feel comfortable. Harry says to give him another couple of days to adjust and then see. I'll try again."

He merely gave her a look. "Not everyone wants to be helped."

"He does want help, or he wouldn't have come. I don't know what he needs help doing yet, but when he's ready, I'll be there." She paused, "That reminds me about your mother."

Draco looked at her over his wine glass and waited for her to explain.

"Her insisting on 'helping' us with the wedding arrangements. We haven't heard from her since her last letter and I don't think the whole 'no news is good news' adage really applies here. I think we're going to have to meet up with her and come up with something to say or do to stall her. I don't care what she wants to plan on the menu of things we're not eating at the wedding we're not having, but sending out invitations to my relatives…" Hermione trailed off.

"We'll tell her we can't send out the invites yet because we haven't decided if it will be a Muggle-style wedding or a wizard wedding. If it might be at the Manor, I imagine most of your relatives couldn't come. There's so many misdirection spells on the Manor they'd never find it."

Hermione nodded. "Well, maybe we can see if your mother wants to meet up tomorrow night for dinner to discuss this."

"We can't tomorrow."

"Why not?"

Draco blinked at her once, doing his best to look innocent. "I told you I'd take your father to a Quidditch match this week, once the hearing was out of the way. I've got tickets for Ginny's game tomorrow."

"Oh, he'd like that. He's wanted to see a match for ages." She frowned. "You're really okay with this?"

He rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't have bothered getting tickets if I wasn't willing to go. If you weren't having to fake an engagement to me, you and your parents wouldn't have fought."

Hermione chuckled, a touch bitterly. "I'm sure we would have, just probably for some other reason. It's so difficult to know what to say to them anymore. I don't know what parts of the truth they can handle or what they shouldn't have to face." She shrugged. "Even smalltalk becomes difficult. I always thought I could get along with all types of people—Harry, Ron, other Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, house-elves…People are people and I can find something nice to say to just about anyone. But anymore I don't even know what to say to my own family. I don't want to lose them, but I don't know how to keep them."

"Maybe your mother could meet you halfway. I'll take your father to the Quidditch match; you show your mother around Diagon Alley. I imagine it's changed a fair bit since the last time you were young enough to need to bring her with you for school supplies." He made the suggestion casually, but figuring out what activity Jane and Hermione might do together had sorely taxed his brain this week. "You could telephone her tomorrow morning and suggest it."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "It might just work. I don't think she's ever seen the twins' shop. And maybe we'll have dinner in Muggle London together instead of at the Leakey Cauldron. That might be a nice compromise."

Draco went to bed that night feeling optimistic. Hermione would be able to make up with her parents tomorrow. Saturday they'd find a way to get his mother off their backs. Everything might just fall into place after all. He had a lot to do, but he had no doubt if anyone could do it, he could. He listened to the sound of Hermione's breathing in the dark for a short while as plans tumbled around his brain, and then he slept.