Author's Note: It took a few days longer than I was expecting, but the next chapter is ready, and it's a fairly long one. I'm pretty pleased with it. I think the story could wrap up in 3 or 4 chapters, but don't quote me on it. Thank you, everyone, who has supported me through writing this story. I also don't think I've said this before, but I'd like to say thanks to Cristy1994 for her translation of this story. I'm sad to see it starting to wrap up, but I'll be excited to start writing something new when I get there, and start working on The Professor again.
Chapter 56: Steven
There were plenty of options available. Muggle flats anywhere in the country were an option. After all, just about anywhere would be cheaper than staying in London. They had a whole stack of fliers they'd gotten from the local real estate office, with photos and stats about available Muggle flats. They'd also picked up a booklet in Diagon Alley with available places. At this point, they couldn't even decide whether they wanted a Muggle place or a wizarding one. "There are a couple of flats above shops in Diagon Alley open." Not all wizarding entrepreneurs wanted to live above their own shop, though it used to be more common. She had the booklet opened to one of the flats.
"We can't live above the apothecary. The smell…" Even magic couldn't prevent the smell of pickled bat wings from wafting through the floorboards.
They flipped through the book again.
"I suppose we could look at Hogsmeade again," Draco offered.
Hermione shook her head, turning the page. It was a rickety looking cottage, but probably sound enough if it was held together with magic—which it probably was. But she didn't particularly relish the idea of living in a town where dozens of Hogwarts students descended on it at times. She still wanted some distance from the place. She flipped through the book. "There's a cottage outside of Nottingham available. Not really a much of a wizarding village there, but it looks like there's a few wizarding families spread out in the area. And there's something down in Brighton. Might nice to be near the sea." She picked up the stack of fliers again.
He reached out and squeezed her hand. "I'll make the phone call, and you send the Owl?"
The pros and cons for a Muggle place and a wizarding one were just so vastly different…they could only hope that they found the right place and recognized it when they saw it. A Muggle place might give them privacy from the wizarding world for a little longer, and access to good take out food. But…weren't they already back in the wizarding world? They'd made the papers. Maybe they couldn't hide any longer. And it'd be nice not to worry that the neighbors might ask about what the smell coming through the vents is. And to have neighbors who they weren't afraid to invite in for a cup of tea, or who might find it odd that Owls were coming and going. It'd be nice to feel normal.
The forest was not quiet. Frogs croaked. Crickets chirped. A night bird called out a greeting to its fellow. Nothing large moved as far as the newcomers could tell, but their ears were unaccustomed to picking out the subtle noises in the dark. Even with a mostly full moon shining…it was awfully dark.
Draco didn't have his wand drawn—Belby had advised them all against it—but his hand was on the hilt. Walking straight into unnecessary danger went against every instinct in his body, but Hermione was here. He wasn't going to watch her go out into danger on her on. He looked over at her and she gave him an encouraging smile. He tried to smile back and shifted the pack on his back. Even with a spell to reduce the weight, it was an awkward bundle. Hermione had a similar pack strapped to her own back.
Belby was bringing up the rear, and his lycanthropic associate was in the lead, sniffing the air as they approached. Belby's suggestion had been that they Apparate some ways away from the location they'd been informed of, and walk closer to get a better sense of what they were getting into. There were no magical interferences that should prevent them from Disapparating immediately if things went sour as far as he was aware. Still, there was a Portkey in his pocket just in case they needed it. It wasn't exactly legal to go around making unauthorized Portkeys, but it was a worthwhile precaution and they felt better for it.
Steven paused, snuffling again. "We're here," he said quietly.
The others came forward, standing in a tighter grouping. Hermione felt her chest tighten a little bit. This was it.
The moment was a bit anti-climatic. Nothing seemed to happen. Several minutes went by. Draco shifted his foot and a leaf crunched. The sound felt ten times louder than it should have. Everyone but Steven had been dosed with something to make their scent less recognizable.
Hermione slipped pack off her back and took a bar of chocolate out of the side compartment, unwrapping it, but not eating it. Did her heart always pound so loud? Minutes went by and felt like hours.
Finally, off to the right, a shadow moved. It was too large to be anything but what it was: a person moving through the woods. Two others were approaching from the other direction. They stopped, just in the shadows of trees, out of clear view.
There was a growl. "Stay where you are."
From the other direction there was a snuffling sound. "How many of you are there?"
"One of me. And some others," Steven said evasively.
"We could kill you for coming into our territory."
"But then you wouldn't get the help we've brought," Hermione said.
Belby would have glared at her if it would have done any good. They were supposed to be easing into this. He kept his breath shallow, barely breathing.
"Don't need help. From anyone," said one of the voices in the dark.
"Be that as it may, we've come to offer some things." Now that she'd started, she might as well continue. "It won't be long before the nights get colder again. We thought some blankets might be useful."
"Don't have anything to trade for 'em," pointed out one of the werewolves. "Could just take 'em. Right now."
Hermione's voice may have been slightly higher than normal. "I'm not asking for anything from you. Nothing other than hearing me out." She unzipped her pack slowly and pulled out a parcel of blankets and set them on the ground in front of her. "Arnold Diggers sent me. I've been giving him Wolfsbane potion. To help stop the pain of the transformations and help him keep his senses during the full moon. I'd like to do the same for…well, anyone else who would like me too."
"She wants to kill the wolf in us!" growled one of the werewolves.
"Tame us so she can put us down!" hissed another.
They were advancing. Things weren't looking good. Hermione didn't draw her wand, but she gripped the hilt, poised to deliver a wordless Protego charm if need be.
Steven growled back at the werewolves in the trees, "Shut your yaps and listen."
The werewolf standing on his own off to the right laughed. "You don't smell like you've run under the moon in years. City boy. Pup," he sneered.
Hermione took a breath. "Just let me say my piece and I'll leave the blankets and chocolate and potions here and won't bother you again unless you want me to."
Belby put an encouraging hand on her back. "The Wolfsbane potion doesn't kill the wolf in you. All it does is put him to sleep."
"You don't know anything about it, old man. There's no wolf in you."
Draco tensed. Had the werewolves come closer? He was grateful that they were far enough away that he couldn't smell bits of raw meat in their teeth or see the dirt under their nails. He forced images of Greyback from his mind. Calm. Calm…
"The wolf in me knows," Steven said. "I was bitten at 17. The Wolfsbane potion is the only thing that keeps my life normal. I can get up and go to work and come home at night. And when the moon comes…I don't haven't to be a slave to its call."
"You're a slave to their offices and rules instead," spat one of the werewolves.
This wasn't going as promisingly as Hermione could have hoped, but…it could be worse. They hadn't had to throw any spells out or run for their lives. It might be salvageable. "I want to give you the option to do something other than what you're doing now. Wizards haven't treated you well. I know that. I can't fix it overnight. But…do any of you have children? Do you want them to go to Hogwarts? To learn to use the magic inside them? There's a place for them there. The Headmistress has promised me. And if anyone wants Wolfsbane potion—you have to take it every day for a week leading up to the full move. I'll provide it. I'm not asking for anything except for a chance. A chance to try and bridge things between wizards and…and werewolves. I'm going to leave the blankets here. And Wolfsbane potion. And chocolate. And a few other things. There's some healing potions." She knelt down by her pack, unpacking it and setting it all out as she spoke. The vials of healing potions, bottles of Wolfsbane, bandages. The stacks of blankets, with bars of chocolate on top. She gestured to Draco to unsling his own pack and he began to add things to the pile as well. She added an envelope on top. "There's written instructions for all of the potions. And instructions on how to contact me if you want more help." She backed away, keeping her eyes on the werewolves.
Draco drew his wand, keeping close to Hermione. Steven was on her other side, sniffing the air and growling softly.
Barely audible, Belby breathed, "Steady, back now…"
Without turning their backs on the werewolves in front of them, the witch and wizards backed away as quietly and carefully as they could, while still making speed. Draco's knuckles were white as he gripped his wand. He saw a glint of Steven's teeth in the moonlight.
The werewolves fell upon the pile of supplies Hermione had brought.
"Run. Now," Belby, ordered, turning his back on the people they'd come so far to see.
"No," ordered Steven, quietly. "Keep walking. Slowly."
Hermione strained her eyes, looking for any sign of movement around them. She didn't see anything, but she followed Steven's lead, walking slowly, though she did turn around. Draco moved closer to her.
Belby gave a shuddering breath, but continued at a moderate place.
When they were a quarter mile from where they'd left the others, Steven stopped, sniffing again. "Show yourself."
Draco nearly bumped into Belby the stop was so abrupt. He cast his eyes around, looking for any sign of movement. There—by that tree.
The voice was wavering and soft. "D-d-did you mean it? You want to help?"
"Yes. Absolutely," Hermione said, taking a step towards the voice. "I'm afraid I've left all my supplies back there. But I can make more. Will you come out?"
There was a pause, and the air was sticky with uneasiness.
Hermione breathed quietly, "Let go of your wand, Draco," and stepped forward. "Will you come out?" she repeated. She could just make out the woman fifteen feet from her.
Her hair was unkempt and her clothes were ragged. She was a small woman. "I have a little boy. Dylan. He cries and cries when the change comes on him. I hadn't meant for him to change, but someone in the pack…" She took a shuddering breath that turned into a cough. "He could go to school?" There was a tiny thread of hope in her voice.
"Yes. There'd be a place at Hogwarts for him. I have the Headmistress's permission."
"And…you have a cure?"
Hermione's heart could have broken right then. "No cure. Not yet. But there's a treatment. The transformation won't be painful. Dylan will be able to keep his own mind and not bite anyone, and the transformation wouldn't be so painful. He could go to school." She took a step forward. "Please, let me help you. What's your name?"
"Meredith. You'll help Dylan? Really?" She sounded desperate. She looked fearfully over her shoulder as though she expected the others to come.
"Come with me. I'll get you whatever you need—clothes, medicine—"
"No. Not right now. The others…" Meredith trailed off and raised a hand, scratching her scalp. "I need to think."
"Can we meet again?" Hermione asked, eagerly.
Though Meredith seemed to have some hesitation about what the others in the pack might do or think, they agreed to meet again in a few days. They settled on a spot some miles distant. Far enough away from the pack to avoid casual notice.
The brunette witch was already making a mental list of things to bring to their next meeting. Maybe some anti-lice shampoo. Blankets. Clothes for her. Clothes for her son. "How old is Dylan?"
"Nine. He can't read. I can read a little. I tried to teach him but…" she trailed off. She could hardly teach what she barely knew herself. "You'll come?"
"I'll come," Hermione promised.
Steven sniffed the air. "We should go."
Meredith backed away. She hadn't come too close to them to begin with. In almost no time, she faded into the trees.
"We should be able to Apparate from here," Belby offered. And they did.
In an instant, they were back in Belby's workshop. With a double flick of his wrist water was boiling in the kettle and a flask of Fire Whiskey levitated towards them. Belby opened it and took a strong swig before offering it to the others. Some of them accepted.
"Well, that could have gone worse," Hermione said, wiping her mouth.
Draco did his best to suppress a shudder. It could have gone worse, but it could have gone a lot better. He wrapped an arm around her waist, feeling the solid warmth of her.
"I don't know what you were thinking," Belby said shortly, looking at his apprentice and taking the flask back. "We agreed that Steven and I were to start the conversation."
"Steven did start. I improvised. I thought I might be able to get through to them. I got through to someone. That's progress."
Belby summoned a chair to himself and sank down into it, looking exhausted. "Yes. Now you've created a whole new pile of work for yourself."
Steven stood by, tense. "I have your word that neither of you will tell anyone about my condition?" He eyed Draco and Hermione. They'd already made the promise once at the start of the evening, but…
"You have my word." "And mine."
For a few minutes there was only the sound of breathing, and the whistling of the kettle. Out of habit more than anything else, Hermione got cups out and added leaves to the teapot, levitating them over to the others.
Belby summoned a vial from the cupboard and added a a dash to each cup. "Special brew—1/3 calming draught, 1/3 peace potion, and 1/3 heart's ease."
Draco took a sip and felt his heartbeat slow a little. He took another sip. The werewolves he met tonight were not Fenrir Greyback. Greyback was dead. Hermione was okay. He tightened his arm around her. "Do you think we should be worried about the follow up meeting?"
"Assuming Meredith doesn't tell the others, it should be straightforward. But she may not be safe staying there. If they know she wants to leave, they might consider her to be a liability," Belby said. "You have your work cut out for you." He let out a breath. "I firmly recommend everyone finish their full cup of tea, go home, and immediately go to bed. Hermione, I'd like to delay the start of our session tomorrow by two hours."
"Fair enough. Thank you for all of your assistance tonight." Hermione took a long sip of her tea.
In short order the cups were empty and everyone had Flooed home.
Draco and Hermione were sat down to a quiet breakfast. He was due at the library shortly. "Plans for your late start this morning?" he asked.
"Azkaban. I want to let Arnold know how things went last night, and maybe
see if he has anything else to say that might help. I know it's a long shot, but maybe if he sees that I actually followed through…he might open up a little." Her head spun at the thought of everything there was to do if she was to provide the help Meredith needed. And if there was one person willing to accept help…maybe there would be others.
There was a slight pause. "And…are you going to see him?"
Something about the edge in Draco's voice told Hermione the conversation had shifted. "I don't know. I usually don't make up my mind until I'm already there. I almost didn't say anything to him last time. I think it would do you good to talk to him at least once. It would let you get everything off your chest."
The blonde shook his head. "I'm too angry to have any sort of rational conversation with him. Maybe some day. Not soon. Anyway, I have to go, Theresa said she wanted to talk to me this morning, so I want to get in a little early."
She leaned across the table and kissed him. "Good luck."
"You too." Draco opted to walk to work to clear his head. Belby's brew had helped him sleep the night before, but the events of the forest had been intense. Hermione had picked a hell of a line of work to go into. The fresh air was welcome, even if it was a bit mucked up by the tailpipes of the morning traffic. Living in the city had its advantages—a nice variety of takeout. But he wouldn't mind being away from the heavy traffic.
The library was already unlocked when Draco came in—Theresa always started early. He found her back in her office and wondered if she'd found a replacement for him yet. There was a large stack of paperwork in front of her.
"Morning, Draco."
"Morning, Theresa. How are things?" He pulled out the chair to sit.
"Don't worry, I won't keep you long. I need to ask a favor—Katrina canceled for tomorrow. Can you please cover the Saturday morning shift?"
"Oh." He paused for a beat. He didn't have any particular plans for tomorrow morning. He supposed he could put in an extra shift. "Sure."
"Thanks. I've got interviews scheduled for later on this morning, so hopefully we'll be in luck. I've got to get back to these. When they arrive, have them wait up front and let me know they're here." She looked at her stack of papers with a sigh. "Are things going okay with your upcoming move? I know moving house is a nightmare, what with cleaning and packing. I'm sorry to make you lose a Saturday of getting things done—I think I can find coverage for Tuesday if you want to leave early Tuesday."
Packing, already? He supposed if you had to do it all the Muggle way it would take longer. How did Muggles manage to move furniture if they moved across the country? He'd have to ask Hermione. It occurred to him that he ought to make some sort of response. "Leaving early Tuesday would be great. There's so much to get done. It's not going poorly—we're faire well organized, but extra time would help."
Theresa nodded and pulled jotted out a few words on a sticky note. "I'll get someone to cover Tuesday afternoon then." There was a muted series of thuds from the other side of the wall. "It sounds like someone has just returned things to the book drop."
Draco took at as his queue to go, nodding and leaving to get to work. He checked the books in and moved off to the front desk. It was slightly surreal when the first of Theresa's interviewees came in and asked for her.
The woman was in her thirties, in a lumpy sweater and pencil skirt. "I'm here for Ms. Briggs?" she asked nervously.
Draco considered her. Too skittish, not ideal for the front desk. The first person you met coming into a library you actually wanted to spend time in should be welcoming. He internally shuddered at the thought of Madam Pince; there was a library he never wanted to set foot in again. He offered an easy smile. "Just a moment, I'll let her know you're here."
