3rd October

Hermione was snoozing in her armchair when Remus and Sirius arrived back from their wand purchasing mission in the late afternoon. The stress, fear, and all-round general exhaustion had finally gotten to her at lunchtime, and her head began to droop over her current Remus-read.

Sirius, who was in remarkably good spirits for a man who had been held captive, tortured and then rescued himself in the last twenty hours, had declared her "boring" from his usual sofa-sprawl when his apparently heat-seeking paper aeroplanes had failed to attract Hermione's attention even though they flew into her hair with very accurate and determined force.

She had confiscated her wand from him when he'd made this pronouncement, shaking her loose hair above him as he pouted at the removal of magical entertainment causing the little folded pieces of parchment to fall all over him, doing her best to appear irritated – but it was difficult. She just wanted to smile, and possibly send Riddle a thank you card, a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates for making both her and Sirius realise that there were more important things than hurt feelings.

Jerking out of her doze as the knocking sounded on the french doors, she put her book aside and got up to let the two men in. She hoped that Sirius would have finally been tired out by his adventure to get a new wand and the companionship of Remus who, with a fortnight to go until the moon did not need as much sleep as your garden-variety human.

Both men had disappointingly huge grins on their faces, however, stamping their feet in the blustery October afternoon; she had a strong urge to make them stay out there for having the nerve to look so cheerful when she was tired and worried. Hallowe'en was getting so close, they had just had a very large scare, and she wasn't allowed to leave the hotel unaccompanied for fear Riddle would find her and force her into talking a man who probably didn't know he was her "uncle" into supporting the cause.

She glowered at them – how dare they. 'Faustus Fehr fights for freedom.'

Sirius nodded, dark hair blowing about his face from the strong wind on the exposed perch, 'Okay, are you ready?' he asked, hooking a finger at the side of his lips to pull out the mouthful of hair he had received when he spoke, and yanking up the hood on his jacket to prevent it from happening again. 'I spent half the time at Fort de Sang coming up with the best one of these I could think of, and it was sodding irritating because I couldn't write it down and kept forgetting half of it, so you'd better be appreciative.'

'Okay,' Hermione said, resigned; maybe she should get a chair, this could take all night.

Sirius took a deep breath and then rattled off, 'Minnie McGonagall's magical might made my magnificently marvellous muggle macaroon more moist' he paused to draw breath, then said 'Mmmm' with difficulty, as it is hard to press ones lips together with the required amount of force to make such a sound, when one is grinning like a smug tosser.

'Good grief' she said laughing and opening the door. 'I'm glad you weren't held there any longer or it would be dark before you finished that ridiculousness.'

'Yeah, puts yours to shame,' Sirius said proudly as he and Remus came inside, shucking jackets and chuckling.

As Hermione shut the door behind them she said, 'It does. I'll be sure to use my time more productively on the next occasion I lay about waiting to be rescued.'

'Pfft,' said Sirius, dismissing her comment with a flick of his hand, 'didn't need you anyway. I am a master of deception – and house-elf terrification.'

'And word invention,' Remus put in as hoisted himself up onto the edge of the kitchen bench, shaking his head and saying 'Terrification' under his breath. He sat, swinging his legs and grinning at the pair of them in a very un-Remus-like fashion.

'What are you so happy about?' Hermione asked, looking at the werewolf.

'Er … my mate's not dead?' he suggested with half a glance at Sirius.

'Oh, right,' Hermione said. 'So, how did it go at Ollivanders?'

'Fine,' Sirius said, and he withdrew the new wand to show her. She had never really paid attention to his old one before, but thought this one might be slightly lighter in colour. 'Mistletoe, Ollivander said. Or maybe holly? They all blur into one after you've waved a hundred of the bloody things, not that it matters really – it's nice enough, but my one is much better.'

Hermione thought he should just be grateful that replacing a wand was so easy; she'd felt so naked when hers had been left behind at the Malfoys on the first Horcrux hunt, and she could still remember the look on Harry's face when she told him the phoenix wand had been broken.

'Sirius, that's your one now.' Remus said in a tone that implied this was not the first time he had made this statement that afternoon.

Sirius sighed and scrunched his nose, looking at the wand in his hand with discontent. 'Yes, but I haven't given up hope just yet. Grandfather should be able to get mine back.'

'I don't know Pads,' Remus said, with a smirk, 'after you flipped Travers and Carrow the bird before showing them just how tentacley their faces could be with your lovely new wand, I wouldn't be surprised if Bellatrix snaps your old one.'

Sirius winced. 'Don't say things like that Moony. Terrible … anyway they were asking for it.'

'You two are kidding, right?' Hermione interjected, her voice rising in horror at the idea that Sirius had been duelling with Death Eaters in the middle of Diagon Alley, only hours after having escaped from them.

'No,' Remus laughed, 'and he's right, they did deserve it.'

Hermione glared at the snickering werewolf. 'What has gotten into you? You're meant to be the sensible one!' she said exasperatedly.

'I am the sensible one - by comparison.' Remus shrugged 'It's very relative, and besides, when you see two Death Eaters manhandling a shopkeeper the sensible thing to do is to cover their faces in tentacles.'

'Too right mate.' Sirius said. 'So did you just sit there the whole time we were gone, Hermione?'

'Yes, I was reading,' she snapped, 'and don't change the subject – what if they'd decided to get revenge for your escape?'

'I doubt they'd been aware I was even captured in the first place,' Sirius said with an airy wave of his hand. 'Do you really think Voldemort wants everyone knowing? And about the brooch too? I mean the guards knew who I was but not why I was there, and Bella, Rodolphus and Rab were the only ones to mention the brooch … the group from the Gala are probably the few that know about it. Anyway, it's not me they want.'

'That's true… ' Hermione said slowly, 'but you really shouldn't be making a spectacle out of yourself.'

'But Hermione,' Remus said sadly, 'that's all he knows.' The two boys started sniggering again.

Hermione huffed under her breath. She was very glad things were back to normal, but she had forgotten just how annoying Sirius could be when he wasn't trying to be nice, and with Remus in on the game there would be no end to it.

'You should start getting ready, Hermione,' Sirius said chirpily. 'We have to be at Grimmauld at seven.'

'God, where do you get your energy from?' she asked, feeling even more tired just at the idea of being Miss Fehr for the evening.

He shrugged 'You know … when you think you're going to die, suddenly being a bit sleepy doesn't seem to matter that much. And it's your excellent healing powers – you must have been dead useful on your mission with Harry and his mate.'

Hermione scoffed, 'Everything I know, I learned afterward. That was what made me realise I didn't know enough. Basic healing was a big part of my research for this.'

'Oh,' Sirius said with another shrug, 'well I think you're better than the healers – they never fix your clothes too. You're very thorough, Granger.'

She smiled. 'That I am. So you two can make your own tea then. I need to get Fehr-ed up.

Dinner at Grimmauld place was a strange event that night. Kreacher had opened the door for them as usual but instead of seating them in the drawing room to wait until the meal was ready, led them upstairs, as Walburga insisted Sirius be seen by a healer, who was waiting in her parlour.

Pollux gave his grandson an apologetic look as Walburga wrapped a firm hand around his upper arm, saying something about a "Professional opinion". Perhaps it was the unexpected mother-hen behaviour, but Sirius seemed surprisingly agreeable to being chivvied along like an eleven-year-old on his first trip to platform nine and three quarters.

Hermione smiled at Pollux as they followed the pair upstairs. 'Seems better off than me, actually, though I don't know how – he can't have slept since Thursday.'

'Yes, well,' Pollux said distractedly.

Pollux didn't speak again until the two of them had reached the library; Pollux sat in one of the leather chairs next to his oversized chess set, and hushed the white pieces with a wave of his wand, for they had begun to cheer and shout challenges at the little onyx soldiers across the board from them at the sight of him. 'Hermione,' he said as he reached for the whiskey decanter and two glasses from the silver tray sitting on the corner of the desk nearest to him, 'I wondered if you could shed some light on something for me?'

'Er … of course Mr Black.' She said, taking a seat next to the black side of the board – intimidated slightly by the looks of resigned acceptance of impending defeat the dark figures were giving her. Could they already tell she was awful at chess? She shrank further back into the chair to avoid the disheartened glances.

But Pollux was not giving any attention to the chess pieces now; he concentrated on pouring a quick dram from the crystal bottle, then lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed it down in one mouthful. He half-filled both of the glasses he'd retrieved from the tray and handed one to Hermione. Then he fixed her with a serious look and began to speak. 'Now, this morning you said you had fought their kind before. What did you mean by that?'

Hermione took a moment to answer, her pulse quickening as she accepted the drink he was holding out to her. This was dangerous territory; she remembered what Harry had told her he'd learned in his Auror training about ways to hold up under interrogation. Always stick to the facts as closely as possible; it's much easier to lie if you're telling the truth. 'Well …' she said slowly 'You're aware of most of Sirius's activities at this point, I believe. You know he is on Dumbledore's side?'

Pollux nodded, 'Yes of course, damn boy keeps trying to convince me it's the way of the future.'

'It is, Mr Black,' she said simply. 'We've been doing some work for Dumbledore for the last few months.'

'You have? Both of you?' Pollux looked wary as he took a small sip of his drink.

Hermione tried to come up with the best way to tell the truth without ruining everything. 'Yes,' she said, 'I've been involved since July – actually it was the night before I met you for the first time – when Sirius and I went with some others to rescue Edgar Bones' children.'

'Oh yes, I heard about that – in Glasgow? You lost one of your fighters, didn't you?'

'We did,' Hermione said quietly, as the image of Benjy Fenwick's broken masonry-covered body flashed through her mind, followed by a startlingly clear picture of the death-tally page from her notes, with the words they only found bits of him burning on the parchment. 'But the Death Eaters lost four that night; he would have said it was almost worth it.'

'Why would someone like you go, Hermione? I can't imagine your mother being very happy about it.' Pollux seemed concerned.

Hermione was able to use the truth once more. 'She agrees with Dumbledore. They are old friends.'

'Really?' Pollux's eyebrows contracted. 'I was not aware of that.' He was quiet for a moment. 'This work you and my grandson are doing for Dumbledore wouldn't have anything to do with Sirius's sudden return to the family would it?'

Hermione was at loss; he didn't look angry, but maybe a little disappointed. 'It was an unexpected benefit; it changed the ways in which Sirius could help,' she said at length. 'Sirius had spoken with you already and decided to return if Mrs Black would allow it. When he mentioned that, Dumbledore saw it as a way to become closer to the less savoury members of your family.'

'I see,' Pollux murmured after swallowing the last of his second glass, 'So my grandson has been gathering information on us?'

'Not on you or Mrs Black,' Hermione clarified. 'Sirius is so happy you are on speaking terms again, but the night of the Gala, when you er … rescued us from Bellatrix, we had been listening to them. That's how I knew why they wanted the brooch.'

Pollux frowned at her. 'I see,' he said again. 'And what has changed recently?'

'What do you mean?' Hermione asked, puzzled; Sirius had kept up his contact with the family after getting the cup, so nothing should have changed from the Black's point of view.

'Sirius has not been his usual self for the last … maybe month, very up and down,' Pollux said, the frown deepening across his forehead. 'Sometimes he seems … distracted, or - I'm not sure - uneasy perhaps? Is it this work you are doing, or …'

'Mr Black,' Hermione said, another piece of re-arranged truth falling from her lips. 'That may be my fault. We had a bit of an argument a few weeks ago.'

'Oh,' Pollux said, the frown lifting, 'well, that's only to be expected.' He poured another short glass and sat back in his chair. 'This work you are doing for Dumbledore, it is dangerous?'

'Not at the moment,' Hermione said with a smile.

Pollux looked reassured. 'That's good. Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor for a reason; if this is how he decides to use his bravery it is not my place to complain.'

Hermione smiled again and took a sip of her whiskey, her pulse calming now that Pollux wasn't staring at her, determined to uncover the truth. She was happy that she hadn't really lied to him. If some form of the truth came out after she went back to 2001, at least Sirius wouldn't have a web of lies to compete with if he wanted to continue his relationship with his family.

'So, Hermione, should the House of Black be concerned about this argument between you and our heir?' Pollux was giving her an odd look - was it possible for someone to look threatening in a friendly way?

Hermione decided on a partial truth again, and the opportunity to give her sudden disappearance in four weeks some premeditated credibility. 'I don't think so Mr Black. You see, I have to go back home for a while, well I don't have to, but I want to. Sirius is not very happy about it, but I'm sure we'll figure it out.'

'This is for your career?' Pollux asked, giving her even more false fodder to work with. 'Sirius mentioned to me that you wanted a career before marriage,' he added when Hermione looked surprised that he had guessed such a thing. 'Why is that so important? Surely you don't need to work, both your family and ours could support Sirius, yourself and many children for the rest of your lives.'

'There is a cause within the Ministry that is very dear to me,' Hermione said. 'I could do it while married, but not from Britain and I would never ask Sirius to move to Switzerland, not when he has his responsibilities here.'

'What is this cause?' Pollux asked interested.

'I'm afraid you might not approve, Mr Black.' Hermione said, her first proper lie of the evening – she definitely knew Pollux would not approve.

'My dear,' Pollux said with a tut, 'most of my grandchildren are Death Eaters, or married to them, surely it cannot be as bad as that?'

'I don't think so, but it is not a subject you and I would see eye to eye on.'

'Come now,' Pollux said in an entirely different tone, there was friendly challenge in his voice now. 'Tell me,' he smiled, 'you cannot say a thing like that and not let me debate with you on it!'

If Pollux wants a debate he will get a debate, Hermione thought, putting her drink down on the table next to the chess set, and pulling all her research to the front of her mind. She had wanted an opportunity to challenge this intelligent but bigoted man for some time. 'I want to improve the social rights of magical creatures,' she said, yet another useful truth.

Pollux gaped at her. 'You're joking,' he said with a half-laugh.

'No, Mr Black. I hate the way wizards treat magical creatures, I really do. If they can't speak, like cats or owls, we love them and treat them with respect – but give them a voice and suddenly they are second class.'

'An interesting premise,' said Pollux appreciatively, tapping his finger on the side of his glass, 'but not always true. Goblins are respected; are they included in the list of creatures you wish to help?

'Goblins are resented, not respected,' Hermione said. 'If they didn't hold your family's livelihood in their vaults would you still be polite to them? Or would they just be metal-working house-elves?'

'Hmm, a valid point,' Pollux replied, finger still tapping away as he thought of a counter for her statement. Then he looked at her and asked, 'So elves are part of this too? Surely not - they love their work. I will admit Kreacher can be grouchy but he lives to serve.'

'Yes, house-elves,' Hermione said, forcefully, 'their plight was what alerted me to the whole system of prejudice in the first place. They have been brainwashed and downtrodden for centuries. It's disgusting.'

'But Hermione, they are happy,' Pollux said incredulously. 'Servants with ideas above their station can be troublesome. The elves do not complain, so why bother?'

'Because such abuse isn't right, Mr Black. Centaurs are another group – such wise creatures and yet they are corralled into smaller and smaller areas. They are peaceful beings; I will never understand how wizards justify the treatment of them. Why is obvious: wizards are threatened by anything different from themselves. Werewolves, for the same reason.'

Pollux's mouth dropped open in shock and then he began to laugh. 'Okay my dear, you got me. Well played.'

'Mr Black, I'm not joking,' she said seriously. 'Werewolves are highly misunderstood.'

'They are dangerous half-breeds.' Pollux's voice was harsh. 'You have no idea the damage they have done in Britain.'

'I have a very good idea, actually,' Hermione said, her temper rising. Maybe it had not been wise to get into this discussion with Pollux after all. 'This year there have been seventy attacks so far, and there are still three full moons left of the year. Last year there were sixty five attacks in total, and in '79 there were fifty eight. The numbers are on the rise because – '

'And you think they deserve rights?' Pollux interrupted her, he sounded angry and concerned for her mental stability.

'Mr Black, of those one hundred and ninety three attacks in the last three years, how many werewolves committed the crimes?' Hermione asked determined to make him understand.

Pollux shook his head, 'That doesn't matter Hermione, they are cruel and vicious animals driven by blood.'

'Four,' Hermione said. 'All the attacks in the last three years were committed by the same four wolves.'

'I didn't know the number was so low,' Pollux said, genuine surprise showing on his face.

'And they are being driven and controlled by Voldemort,' she added.

Pollux's head snapped up, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the use of the name, 'You really are one of them, aren't you?'

'One of whom?'

'Dumbledore's, his Order. No one else uses the Dark Lord's name.'

'I am, and I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you in the first place, Mr Black. It was important to Sirius that you forgave him so I hid my true beliefs. I'll understand if you don't wish him to see me anymore.'

Then abruptly Pollux laughed, 'You say that as though I have a choice my dear. That boy is me, with perhaps a bit more courage and a bit less forethought. I couldn't keep him away from you if I tried.' Then he shook his head and laughed even more, 'If I did, he'd just turn into that great hulking dog and bite me probably.'

Hermione smiled. 'You're not wrong. But don't you see, why is it okay that your grandson can become a dog once a month or more, but he's not classified as a magical creature?'

Pollux sighed, 'Because he chooses it Hermione, the situation is different, the werewolves have no control.'

'Doesn't that make Sirius worse?' Hermione pushed. 'He wants to be an animal. Werewolves have it forced on them. How can we punish them for something they didn't choose?'

'One could make the same argument for mudbloods.' Pollux said dismissively.

'I'm glad you're coming round Mr Black,' she said cheekily, realising that arguing with this man was not going to get her anywhere. Perhaps charm was the way to go.

He chuckled, 'You are like your mother.'

'Thank you.' She said smiling. 'But really, is that the only argument you can come up with? That they don't choose to have, at most, fourteen hours of being a wolf once a month? I can tell you Sirius is canine much more often than that.'

'But werewolves are affected by it most of the time,' Pollux insisted 'they are stronger, hungrier –they anger more easily than people. They are very unstable.'

'They are stronger,' Hermione admitted, 'I will give you that, but they are not hungrier and not all are unstable – a werewolf that I know is quite calm, all of the time, one of my more rational friends. And I would point out that Sirius has many doglike qualities that stem from his ability, if that is really your problem with wolves.'

'Really?' Pollux asked, interested.

'Get Kreacher to serve ribs one night. You'll see what I mean,' she said with a little laugh.

Pollux snorted, then he seemed to realise the significance of the rest of her previous statement. 'You are friends with a werewolf?' He asked sharply.

'Yes,' Hermione nodded 'and he is just as clever as me, a wonderful man who – '

The door to the library opened suddenly. 'Grandfather, you better have some bloody whiskey in here,' Sirius fumed as he stormed across the room, eyes fixed on the decanter and glasses on the edge of Pollux's desk. 'That crackpot has been making me drink the most revolting potions in existence.'

'Hello Sirius,' Hermione said, amused at his whining.

He turned to see her sitting in the armchair. 'Hi,' he said, pouring a measure from the crystal bottle. 'You are my full time healer from now on,' he said ardently, before throwing back the drink in one go, sloshing it around his mouth. 'Merlin,' he said hoarsely after swallowing, 'that's better, honestly don't be surprised if I collapse during dinner; I think the old coot was trying to kill me.'

Hermione and Pollux both chuckled at his expression of horror.

'So what have you two been doing while I suffered up there?' Sirius asked perching on the arm of Hermione's chair.

An onyx pawn from the chess board called up to him 'Get away! You pilfering limp-wristed braggart!'

Pollux laughed and silenced the board again with his wand, Hermione looked at Sirius in surprise. 'They didn't insult me, and I've been sitting here for an hour.'

Sirius glared down at the silent but still gesticulating pawn. 'You, however, didn't hand the cheeky blighter over to the white bishop – who is famous for his inventive dismemberments – all in the name of my failed battle plan. I bet he wouldn't care if I'd even won,' Sirius huffed as he reached across Hermione and picked up the little black soldier between finger and thumb. He grinned evilly at the struggling figure for a moment, and then promptly dropped him head first into the half inch of amber liquid in Hermione's glass.

'Wasteful,' Pollux muttered.

Sirius shrugged 'Sorry, so did you two talk about me the whole time I was gone, or just mostly?'

'There was a brief mention,' Hermione said, smiling at him, 'about how peaceful it was without you drowning helpless soldiers and complaining about the hardships of being cared for by your mother.'

He laughed, 'Anything else interesting?'

'Werewolves,' said Pollux without preamble.

Sirius looked down at Hermione, his eyebrow raised. 'What are you up to Miss Fehr?' he asked. 'You'll make poor Granddad have a heart attack with such frightening conversation.'

'He asked me why I want to go back to Switzerland soon,' Hermione said with a shrug, 'so I told him about the work I want to do there.'

Hermione thought Sirius might not like the mention of her departure, but she was wrong – a mischievous smirk curled on his lips as he replied, 'Very good Miss Fehr.'

'Sirius, I think it's been long enough now, you may use my first name.' Hermione said smoothly, accepting her role as straight man.

Pollux grinned at the pair's antics. 'So boy, what do you think about Hermione being friends with a werewolf?'

'Well,' Sirius said seeming to give the question serious thought. 'I was quite threatened by him at first Grandfather. I mean what was I to do?'

Pollux looked towards Hermione, slight triumph in his face.

She tried very hard to keep a neutral expression so Sirius could have his fun.

'He is strong, and can see much better in the dark – but the worst part is, he's much smarter than me, has far more in common with Hermione, and I was the one who introduced them.'

'You're friends with one too?' Pollux shock seemed to have made him confused.

'Yes, the same one.' Sirius said 'He's tops. You'd love him, can argue me into the ground.'

'Sweet Circe,' Pollux said faintly 'you weren't kidding about a heart attack. Why would you even be friends with him?'

'I just told you. He's tops. Deal with it.' Sirius said, fishing the pawn from Hermione's glass and popping him back on the board where he weaved for a moment before plonking down heavily on his backside.

'Sirius,' Pollux said sternly, 'you cannot expect me to –'

'Yes I can, Grandfather. I've known him for ten years, he's never hurt anyone, and I'm betting if you and Hermione were talking about this she's already told you – probably with a diagram and equations – that most werewolves are not the dangerous animals you seem to think they are. So don't tell me what to expect. You need to open your mind.' Sirius threw back the pawn-whiskey, and then winked at Pollux 'It's the way of the future Grandad. You'll get it soon enough.'

Sirius thought that the meal served by Kreacher that evening was possibly the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, probably because anything would be an improvement on the foulness he had ingested in his mothers parlour with the sadistic and smug Healer Bethnal. The elderly St Mungo's employee had insisted on so many bizarre concoctions that Sirius was quite sure it was some elaborate prank cooked up by his mother - or he would have done if his mother possessed any kind of sense of humour at all.

Pollux looked at him oddly all through dinner, but didn't say anything unusual. Sirius thought it was likely that his grandfather was still coming to terms with the idea that the only heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was mates with a werewolf, but behind the hazel eyes was a confusing emotion – his grandfather almost looked sad, and that worried Sirius. He would expect Pollux to be annoyed, disgusted, or even afraid of such information, but not sad about it.

After dinner, just as the dessert bowls were being cleared, there was a loud urgent rapping on the front door.

Kreacher vanished with the stack of plates and within moments they heard the CRACK of him reappearing at the door, divested of crockery.

'Mr and Mrs Lestrange,' Kreacher said, after the clicking of the many locks had ceased, and the elf had opened the door a crack.

'Oh shit,' Sirius muttered, eyes snapping to Hermione – surely they wouldn't try anything here. Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a disillusionment charm on herself in a second, and Sirius saw her shimmering shape get up from her chair.

He looked across the table at his mother. She had gotten to her feet, wand in her hand. 'Of all the discourtesies,' she hissed in a disbelieving tone, 'calling during dinner.'

Sirius snorted as he felt the trickling down his back that told him Hermione had disillusioned him as well. Yes, that was his mother – Bellatrix and her husband had held her only son to ransom and she was annoyed because they had returned to murder him at an inconvenient time.

A round of applause for Emily who has the unappealing job of sorting through my word vomit – thankfully she has gloves. xx