A/N: Love to signofthetimes, CB and reviewers.

A few notes on werewolves as pertain to this story:

If I were to ever do a spin-off of this piece, it might well be to explore the idea of werewolf identity politics. I'm picturing a sort of continuum of position here in that regard. On one end is Remus Lupin, who rejects everything wolfish about his nature, identifies as fully-human and wants only to live a quiet, normal life in obscurity.

One the other end, Fenrir Greyback is conciously chosing to make himself as close to an animal as he can. He identifies as a werewolf first and foremost, and deliberately casts away all human mores to live the law of the jungle. He sees himself as a predator and weaker beings as his flock of sheep.

Pavel and his men are in the middle. They feel that, because they did not choose to become wolves they deserve the benefit of the doubt in terms of being integrated into society, with the same rights and privileges as their human compatriots. They also feel it is valid for them to express (safely and legally) their wolven tendencies, as long as they don't infringe on the rights of others.

*A small star shoots across the screen* The more you know...:)

A lot of people didn't get why Eugen Arco was his second. Pavel, sitting next to Rita, nodded to men in the yard to start the demonstration. They did, the hundred who'd come that morning moving in precise lock-step across the yard.

The Minister, at least, seemed to get it. She was darting nervous looks at him-at them-and then watching as the wolves turned precisely and came back. This was more or less a show, and everyone knew it-their real strength was guerrilla combat, sheer physical power and aggressiveness.

Pavel held up a hand and the whole group stopped. He nodded to Eugen and Sandru, who stepped out, bowed, and then it began. The two wolves circled one another, snarling, and then Arco sprung. He was short, almost as short as Scabior, and slight, but he offset his disadvantages with speed and sheer viciousness.

To anyone who wasn't a wolf, the fight would have looked incredibly brutal, as though the two were mauling one another. Had it been a real fight, it would have been; but this was a demonstration, a step above wrestling for fun.

Sandru was four inches taller and three stone heavier, and he was good in a brawl. He swung back, trying to dislodge Eugen, get him on his back to press his neck and win the fight. Eugen dodged and came at him from the side, trying to fishhook with his legs to bring down the larger man.

Sandru lashed out with his nails, drawing blood. Pavel felt his nostils flare, the predator in him waking up at the scent. Beside him, Rita gasped and he gently touched her arm, calming her.

Eugen attacked again, using his own nails, darting his head forward as though to bite. Sandru dodged back and used his leverage to hit Eugen's forehead, sending him reeling back.

Eugen fell, but leapt up again and pounced, snarling, his momentum driving both men to the ground. Sandru flipped them, pinning Eugen under him, head snapping back as Eugen punched him. He shook it off and drove his fist under Eugen's arm, prompting a yelp of pain and a renewed snarl, as Eugen brought up his head and headbutted Sandru, using the resultant moment of startlement to flip Sandru and press an arm to his neck, winning the fight.

Sandru raised a finger, the symbol for a surrender, and both men stood up and embraced, laughing and congratulating one another about the fight. Eugen fixed Sandru's split lip and Sandru healed his bruises, already forming.

'Impressive' breathed Rita, leaning into Pavel. He leant back, eyes still on Vulpes and her cloud of assistants.

'We've got five thousand like them back home.'

'These are the best, though?'

He nodded. 'My lieutenants.' This was the private bodyguard that served the not-exactly-royal family, and even then, not all of them. They'd left half home to guard the Krums still in Bulgaria.

Dorina Vulpes was still watching them, watching him, with a slightly sick, nervous look on her face. Pavel grinned and waved and Rita followed suit, giggling a little.

'She's a dreadful bitch, is she?'

'No, just in over her head. I think she thought once Romania was done with us that we'd just vanish like the mist. It didn't work out that way, so she's nervous we're going to start mentioning things.'

'Are you?'

Pavel grinned. 'Of course. Like I've said, we're wolves, not dogs. If a dog is maltreated, he'll stay where he is because he accepts being the omega of the pack. If a wolf is maltreated, he'll strike out on his own and finds a better pack to be part of. Biology is destiny, my dear.'

Rita probably didn't know what biology was, but she nodded. He could smell her desire for him and it pleased him enormously, and saddened him, because she couldn't stay forever and he felt like sending her back would be a terribly betrayal.

In his less-worthy moments, Pavel sometimes considered biting her. Not to hurt her, of course, but because she couldn't go back infected. And in Bulgaria, a person could have a damned good life as a wolf. He struggled as it was against the temptation to nip her during their love-play. Sometimes he did, but he was careful never to break skin.

When two werewolves mate, foreplay is usually not like it is with humans. Of course, a lot of it is similar-kissing, caressing, touching, snuggling-but some of it is...not. Wolves mark their mates with claws and teeth, and whilst Rita had left some gouges in him (which he treasured and thought a very good sign), he could hardly do the same to her without potentially giving her the virus. And scarring her, as wolves are resistant to scarring and humans are not.

Ultimately, he'd decided, he couldn't do that without her prior consent. It would be a violation of the profoundest kind, taking her species from her, and unless she asked him, he'd keep his blood to himself.

The English had come as well, and they clustered a bit away from the Romanians, speaking softly. Pavel could hear some of it.

'They're impressed with us.'

'They should be. That was frightening.'

She smelt aroused, not afraid, but it was a thin line, and none of these people had ever met the wolves in their personal lives, and knew how shy Eugen was, or that Sandru liked to teach math classes at the Ministry, and spent four hour a week showing Ivan Krum how to keep the books of his own castle.

Pavel stood and went to the Lord Protector, who was watching it all impassively. 'My lord?'

'Well done, all of you. Are Sandru and Eugen all right?'

'Fine, fine. We're a sturdy people.'

'I know, but we worry.'

It was the subject of great (if affectionate) amusement amongst the wolves that their humans really did seem to worry. Pavel knew as soon as the spectators were gone the Vicereine's mad elf would be chasing the two fighters with potions for bruising and pain, and probably bully Sandru into blood replenishers and who knows what else.

'We appreciate it, my lord.'

Krum waved away the thanks. 'The Vicereine and I are going to talk with Minister Vulpes later. Do you want to join in?'

'I would, very much.'

Pavel watched him as he lumbered back to his wife, shoulders oddly rounded. He was going to help the kids put the thumbscrews to the Vulpes woman if it was the last thing he ever did.

Rita brushed his hand lightly. 'Nicolae?'

'Rita?'

'Something the matter?'

'Quite the opposite.'

Pavel grinned. He felt very strong and very competant, dangerously alive. He could smell Vulpes, and she smelt like fear. He liked it.

Alise was not nearly so happy. She was stroking Lem's forehead, feeling sorry for him. He wiped his eyes a little, sniffling. 'E were such a gud lil bloke. Pushin is spool an all. Ridin me shoulders and nibblin me air. Member that?'

'He was a good rat, Lem.'

'Course e was.'

She stroked his head a bit more. 'I'm so sorry.'

'M sorry too. Oughts t ave guessed e weren't a normal rat when e lived s'long.'

'None of us knew.'

'Sorry I dint pertec you better, too. E dint never touch you?'

She shook her head. 'What did he do?'

'Pe'er Pet'igrew were a member a the Order. E gave up his best mate an is mate's bird and the kid oo the Dark Lord is in rite now.'

'Who was Hermione's friend Harry.'

'Rite. E gave em up to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord tried to kills the boy an it...came back on im, I thinks. Sumhow, dunno. Anyway, everybody thought it were Black did it, an e went to Azkaban jus like I did.'

'For killing Harry's parents.'

'Yeah. Cept now it looks like it weren't Black atall, but Pet'igrew.'

'So he faked his death and turned into Chum?'

'Seems as e did. I found the lil fella at Ogwarts and took im cause I felt bad fer im.'

'When did Snape find out?'

'Dunno. E dint seem like e dint know before, did e?'

Alise ran her fingers through his hair. 'Maybe he knew you were the best person he could trust with Pettigrew.'

'Mebbe so. I'm gonna miss the lil bloke. Member e used to climb t Pip's cage an steal is seed?'

Alise had spent a number of hours chasing Chum down from doing just that. She made a sympathetic noise and kept stroking. Lem snuggled back, looking up at her.

'Ow are you doin with this, then?'

'Fine. I'm sorry about Chum but he never hurt us. I felt bad for Sirius, though. He looked like he wanted to kill Pettigrew.'

'Doan blame im. Man ought to gets t commit the murder e went down fer.'

'Maybe he will.'

Lem nodded sagely. 'Mebbe e's waitin fer is moment. Gud on im, if e is. S'was my mistake, gettin angry when I shudda wai'ed.'

Alise was comfortable with the knowledge of what her husband had done. They both had a past, and since he had respected hers, she did likewise. If he wanted to discuss it, he'd bring it up.

'Well, that was a long time ago. What's important now is things are looking better all the time.'

He nodded, eyes closed. 'Mmm hmm. Mebbe we'll get us another rat or sumthin.'

'I'd like that.'

'Me, too. Ave t teach im to chase the spool, though.'

'And ride our heads.'

'An ride our eads. Mebbe this one wont eat everythin what aint tied down r on fire.'

She laughed a little bit, nodding. 'Remember when he ate that cake?'

'Where'd e puts it all? Alf a 'ole cake, it was, and jam and chocolate too.'

She'd been livid when Chum had bored a hole through her cake and eaten the filling, but looking back it was funny. 'We know now.'

'E makes a andsomer rat than e does a bloke, I thoughts.'

'Me, too.'

They cuddled a bit more and then Alise went to check on Hermione and the others. She was glad Durmstrang hadn't taken her. It was sinister, dark and cold even in high summer, and the shadows seemed to ooze from the stones. There was Darkness here, she sensed, though from the building or the people she couldn't tell.

Crookshanks crossed her path, following the cat animagus determinedly. Alise curtsied politely.

'Good day, Professor McGonagall.'

The woman changed back. 'Madam Scabior, please call Crookshanks off. He is courting me most persistently.'

Crookshanks rubbed the woman's boots and sang a few warbling notes, eyes large and interested. Making a disgusted noise, the teacher bent and rubbed his neck gently.

Crookshanks purred rustily, tail flicking. Alise scooped him up and nuzzled his ruff. He smelt like cat, a smell of dust and sunlight and secret places. He nuzzled back, still purring. It felt like love to her, simple uncomplicated love.

'He is a very handsome tom, to be sure. Where did Madam Krum get him?'

'He was a gift from her mother.'

'Have you met Madam Lestrange?'

'I have.'

Professor McGonagall stroked Crooks's ears. 'She is kind to you?'

'They all are.'

The woman looked away, reflecting. 'Your husband was a student of mine.'

'He's said that.'

'I wish I might have helped him. I did not realise until he spoke up, the pain I had caused by not seeing...things.'

Alise hugged Crookshanks. She didn't know what to make of this old woman, who reminded her of Osma Pasha, or of a past she was happy to be ignorant of. Lem was good to her, and whoever and whatever he'd been before was not relevant to them now.

'I would very much like to rectify that error, Madam Scabior. If there was something I could do for your husband or yourself...'

'I will pass the message on to him, Professor.'

'Thank you. And perhaps take Crookshanks with you?'

'Do you like it? Being an animagus, I mean?' She hadn't quite meant to blurt it out, but she thought being a cat could be quite pleasant. Or a bird, perhaps, a sparrow or a cute little finch.

'Very much. It's freeing.'

Crookshanks wriggled down and landed nimbly on his stubby legs. He blatted at the Professor and she sighed, exasperated.

'I shan't marry you, Crookshanks, but a walk will be fine.' She said her goodbyes, transformed and took off, tail high. Crookshanks followed, coming up alongside her to nudge her with his head. As Alise watched, their tails briefly twined before the Professor pulled away, tossing her head.

Alise continued her search. Everything here was plain to the point of austerity-hard ugly benches, no flowers, no fountains. Spartan, she thought, and called her elf to keep her company. The Scabiors had two; one was a sort of housekeeper and cook that was Lem's before they married and one, a gift from Hermione, who was a body servant and chaperone like Kreacher.

She found her friend in a wide field, elf beside her. Hermione was looking determinedly at the horizon. As Alise watched, she raised her wand and took a deep breath.

'Expecto Patronum!'

Her wand flashed weakly but that was all. No Patronus. Hermione had spotted her and waved. Alise waved back and jogged over, elf bobbing beside her, looking displeased at this whole idea.

'Hello, Alise, Moppy.'

'Hello Hermione, Kreacher.'

The elves, who hated one another, greeted the humans and went back to glaring. Hermione seemed a bit abashed to have been caught failing at something. She shifted, twisting her neck as though to crack it.

'How is Scabior taking the news about Chum?'

'He's sad, but it's better not to have him with us if he's really...you know.'

Hermione nodded. 'I understand.'

'How was it with the wolves?'

'Brilliant. Minister Vulpes looked ready to cry when the fight started.'

'Who won?'

'Arco, by a hair.'

Alise wasn't surprised. Lem and Eugen sometimes play-fought, and as good as Lem was, he'd never bested Eugen in sheer strength and viciousness. Which was funny, because the wolf was the shyest man she'd ever met-he went bright red when a woman talked to him, and stuttered in the presence of more than one lady at a time.

'Are you meeting with them again tonight?'

'Tomorrow. We're going to work on this thing with Britain tonight. I wanted a little practice before then.'

Alise had never conjured a Patronus but then, she'd never needed one. Hermione explained the theory and Alise did as she said, gathered a happy memory of baking cookies with her mother, and swished hard. A small burst of light shot forth from her wand and then fizzled.

'Good, Alise. That's a start.'

Hermione didn't sound as cheerful as she normally was about magic. Alise looked at her sidelong, preparing to give her a hard time if need be. Hermione seemed to sense it and occupied herself elsewhere for a moment.

'Crookshanks is bothering your Professor McGonagall. She says he's courting her.'

'He's a very clever boy, he knows quality when he sees it.'

They both laughed a bit. 'Shall we try again?'

By the end, Alise could produce a sort of small glowing ball for a moment. It looked, she thought, pretty lame, but Hermione was excited for her. The best she could do, confided her friend, was a blob, and it wasn't even a very bright blob.

'You'll get better, Hermione.'

'We both will. Anyway, shall we head back?'

Alise had heard about Arbanas and Loftstrom's attempt to attack Hermione by the lake. She had met them both briefly and had the impression that that Drago and his father had probably done...things...to them. She approved, but wondered if her friend was bothered by the memories of that day.

'No' said Hermione when asked. 'I beat them both and Draco and my uncle...they never did it again.'

'I know.' Alise slid a hand into her friends and squeezed. Hermione smiled tiredly.

'I'll be glad when we're back home, won't you?'

'Baba would like it if you came for dinner some night, you and Viktor. Lem and I will be there too.'

'I'll mention it to Viktor and we'll make a time.' Hermione liked visiting Alise's grandma, which pleased Alise to no end. Baba was a wonderful lady, and it delighted her to have people to cook for, even if they were wizards with strange manners.

Sirius-Salazar bounded from a bush and bowed to them. They both scratched his ears and then he turned back. 'Hello, girls. Alise, love, is Scabior all right?'

'He's sad, but better to know that not know. I'm sorry about what happened.'

'So am I, dear heart, so am I. Thank you, though. Hermione, I thought Ron and yourself and I could spend some time before we terrify the Vulpes woman.'

'I'd like that.'

Alise made her goodbyes and went to check on her grieving husband, to give him his old teacher's message and tell him about her blob of light.

Ron Weasley wasn't sure what to expect when he met with Sirius Black and Hermione, who was now, terrifyingly, the head of a country. She swept in and kissed his cheek in greeting, and then settled beside Sirius, tom cat on her knee. He could smell perfume on her, and face powder. And power, something that seemed to buzz in the air all about them like a swarm of bees, sleepy and contained...for now.

Sirius reverently brought out an album done in peeling black faux-leather. He set it on the table between them. Headmaster Feathering's rooms weren't luxurious but they were cosy and private, and no one would bother them whilst they were there.

Sirius opened the album. Unfamiliar faces smiled up at them, a few of them stirring a chord in Ron's memory. 'Is that Harry's dad?'

'James, yes. That's Remus Lupin-you know him, Ron. He was a good friend of James's and mine. And that's Peter.'

'Chum, you mean?' Hermione cocked her head and gently stroked the picture with her fingertips as she said it.

'He was then.'

Those pictures weren't as bad as the ones at the back. Ron hadn't known those people, after all. He was sorry they'd died and Sirius had gone to prison, but it wasn't like with Harry, where the pain of it, dulled, could roar back to life in an instant.

'That was the day we made those snow witches, remember, Hermione?'

'I do.' She smiled sadly at the picture of the three of them apple-cheeked and giggling, arms about one another. Her hat was askew and Harry's comforter was twisted strangely, but all of them looked happy and young and free.

'Snape came and took points off for...something.'

'He claimed they were too near the path.'

'That was it! And poor Neville fell down and couldn't get up again.' They both laughed at the mental image of poor Neville flailing about in the snowbank, looking like a bear cub in all his cumbersome woollen layers.

'Is he all right? Neville?'

'He is. Same as he always was.'

'That's good.'

An awkward silence until Sirius cleared his throat. 'Tell me about him?'

'About Harry?'

'He was my godson, you know. Is, if he's still...if he still lives, somehow.'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'I had no idea, Sirius!'

'I know. It...you'd enough to deal with, darling. And grief keeps.' His voice sounded sad and gently understanding. Ron felt a terrible compassion for the man just then; he was in pain and admitting it, and hearing about their old best mate could help a little.

Hermione nodded briskly. 'He was very kind, Sirius. Remember, Ron, when those third years were picking on Susan Bones and Harry scared them off?'

'Yeah. He did stuff like that a lot, didn't he?'

'And he loved that owl. Hedwig, wasn't it?'

'Hedwig, that's right. She used to sit on his shoulder and pluck at his eyebrows.'

'She was grooming him like he was her chick.'

Ron nodded. There was a lump in his throat, suddenly. 'Yeah. And that time she brought that vole in she'd caught and shared it with us? We were doing h-homework, and we-'

Hermione reached across Sirius to cup his shoulder. 'It's all right. She dropped half a vole on his Charms book. It was horrible. Lavender was screaming and that awful cat of Katie Bell's tried to fight Hedwig for it.'

'And Harry separated them and gave the vole back. He was good at things like that.'

'Tea at Hagrid's, too, remember? He always let us come in.'

'Hagrid was close to Harry?'

'He was. Hagrid was always so kind to him. To all of us, really, but Hagrid knew how it was to feel different, I think.'

Ron nodded as she talked. 'Those awful rock cakes. Harry never wanted to hurt his feelings so he'd hide them in his pockets. They tore the seam one time, remember? Peasy mended them for him.'

Sirius was crying quietly. 'S'all right. Go on. Please.'

Hermione rested her head on her cousin's shoulder a moment. 'He was funny, too. He made us laugh. He could talk us into anything, but he always made us laugh. Remember the suit of armour, Ron?'

Ron snorted. 'McGonagall put a flea in our ears about that.'

'Not mine,'

'She should've! Just because you've that innocent face-'

'And a perfect track record until Harry corrupted me.'

'Harry corrupted you?'

She nodded, grinning. 'He convinced us we should scare the Slytherins by animating a suit of armour. We were trying to scare Draco, actually.'

'Did it work?'

'We got it to move, but it wouldn't stop. McGonagall figured out it was us and the boys got detention.'

Sirius laughed, still sniffling. 'That's something James would've loved. Why didn't you?'

'She refused to believe Hermione had anything to do with it! This was early in the year. It was an outrage.'

'I gave you both sweeties after.'

'Sugar-free!'

'It tastes the same.'

'Does not.'

Sirius was patting them both gently on the back. 'How were his marks?'

'Not bad. Harry was clever but he didn't like school much.'

'Lily wouldn't have liked that. She was quite like yourself, Hermione.'

A strange look crossed Hermione's face, but only for a second. 'She was a muggleborn too-well, not too-wasn't she?'

Sirius touched her cheek. 'She was.'

Ron could sense there were stories within stories here, tales within tales to which he was not privy. He didn't ask but instead gently turned a page.

'Did he like girls?'

'No, but we were eleven, Sirius. None of us liked the opposite sex yet.'

'Susan liked him, though. She used to follow him, remember? And he was never cruel about it to her.'

'It wasn't in him to be. He was nice to everyone.'

There weren't all that many pictures of them. They'd had less than a year, after all, together. Ron knew it as a kind of grace that he'd ever got to see Hermione again, let alone talk to her, but he found himself wishing painfully that Harry could be here as well, could share the odd pain-pleasure of this meeting.

'I was impressed with you, that you volunteered.'

Ron blushed a little. 'Someone has to go.'

'My family will help you, Ron. Professor Snape is the best at what he does.'

Ron tried to find a polite answer. His memories of Snape were not pleasant, but Hagrid swore up and down he'd seen the one-eyed kid hugging the greasy bat like he was a normal person, and Snape had hugged back and not punched him like Ron would have assumed.

Hermione leant over, gently bypassing Sirius, and took his hand for a second. Her eyes were wet, and deep, and Ron had to remind himself of what she was now, and what they were to one another.

'Thank you, Ron. It's so kind of you to volunteer.'

He dropped his eyes, cheeks burning. 'Well.'

'I mean it.'

'He's a kid, Hermione. It's not right.'

'No, but soon it will be better.'

He brought his eyes up. She was looking at him and he could see in her traces of who she had been, the bold, frizzy-haired little girl who'd once tried to hold hands with him. He'd shaken her off, he remembered, and ruefully shook his head.

'I hope so.'

'So do I.' Sirius put an arm round each of them and hugged. 'And if Harry is still in there somewhere, I can't wait to tell him about how brave you both were.'

An elf told them Snape was at the door. Ron stiffened as the bat billowed in, all greasy hair and scowling expression. A weird thing happened, though, when he saw Hermione and Sirius, which is to say, he seemed to kind of...well, scowl less.

'My lady Krum, I am recalled to Britain to act as intermediary between the Dark Lord and yourself in the matter of young lord Borev.'

'Will you return?' She sounded like this would be a good thing.

'As rapidly as possible. Black is staying, and you've the others to help you.'

'I know.'

Snape extended a hand and pressed something into Hermione's. 'I was hoping you might hold these for me, my lady.'

Hermione actually leant over to embrace the manky tosser. 'Of course, Professor.'

Snape hugged her back. Ron felt sure his eyes were bulging from his head.

'Surely, Mr. Weasley, you are familiar with the concept of not staring like a hayseed at the harvest fair?'

'I, err, sorry.'

'You ought to be. Tell me, has your potioning improved?'

'I'm third in my class.'

'Of three?'

'Of forty two.'

Snape nodded once. 'Better. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.'

'Professor, really!'

'I've a reputation to uphold, Madam Krum.'

'Ron is helping us.'

'And I will do my utmost to facilitate that, to be sure, but I will not give up my position as the devil in this particular pantheon anytime soon, madam.'

She laughed as though he'd made a joke. 'Send them my love, Professor.'

'Those that love you carry your heart in theirs, my lady.'

'And theirs in mine.'

Snape turned without another word, nodded once to Sirius, and was gone. Ron wasn't quite sure what had just happened. Hermione watched the foul bastard go, and then sat down.

'Ron?'

Ron shook his head. 'Didn't you set him on fire once?'

And then they were laughing, all three of them, and Ron felt like maybe this breech could be mended, after all.