Chapter Five

"Really?" Sirius asked, frowning in thought over his coffee. He'd heard her—listened to every word as they lounged, reclining against one another on the sofa in his parlor—and of course he didn't disbelieve her, but when she'd returned from her work errand at Diagon Alley, she'd seemed so very vexed.

He knew Remus was not comfortable around her, but he could never truly understand why. Remus Lupin was typically such a gentle being he could barely muster up hate for the werewolf who'd bitten him as a child; Sirius could not imagine that he actually hated her. There had to be something else, something they were both missing.

She closed her eyes, saddened, and shook her head. "You should've seen how fast he moved to get away from me. You'd have thought I'd burst into flames and he was running to fetch some water."

Drawing in a deep breath, he offered a headshake of his own. "I don't think that sort of comparison is as affective in conversations with pure-bloods as it is with Muggle-borns. After all, wands . . . ." He shrugged as he let his voice trail off, aware he wasn't helping. "Oh."

Glancing at him over her shoulder, Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled out of his loose embrace to sit up "You really know how to take away from a point," she said in a grousing tone, setting her mug upon the coffee table and then bracing her elbows on her knees.

"I'm sorry." Placing his own mug beside hers, he sat up as well, leaning close to hug her from behind. "I just . . . I don't think I want it to be hate, because I don't know how to deal with people close to me being unable to sit in the same room together. Maybe I should have a talk with him, after all."

"No, no." She shifted on the cushion, turning in his arms to meet his gaze. "Look, it's bad enough you and I being together at all is causing problems in your friendship with him. Just . . . when you're spending time with him, don't talk about me, maybe."

"Oh, sure, the mature approach."

Hermione scowled. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you."

"Oh, yes it does." His grin was as bright as her expression was dark. "Much like snark and charm, I wear my sarcasm very well, thank you."

After a heartbeat, she breathed out a snicker in spite of herself. "I just don't want to cause problems between you two, okay? I refuse to let this become a 'him or me' situation, which is what it will become if you poke this particular bear. He could perceive it as you choosing me over him, and I'll not have that on my conscience. Just . . . just let us be two separate parts of your life." Now she shrugged, giving him a meaningful look. "If in the future you and I have reason to drag our loved ones into our relationship, we'll worry about it then."

"You are so wise." He playfully tapped a finger against the tip of her nose. "This is why I like you."

"No, you like me because I enjoy your awful, sometimes piggish sense of humor, don't try to change you, and didn't hesitate to jump into bed with you on our first date." She had no illusions about the fact that their relationship had moved very fast. Normally, Hermione was far more cautious in how and when things should proceed to that step, but with Sirius it had simply been different. Perhaps because they had known one another so very long before that first date and so there was no 'getting to know each other' stage required. Perhaps because of their chemistry, though logic dictated that it was, perhaps, a mix of the two.

Sirius' shoulders slumped. "Oh, c'mon, but the wise thing just makes us both sound so much better!"

Hermione yawned—silent, but still large and fairly obnoxious—as she waited outside the Minister's office a few mornings later. Belatedly realizing how gods awfully rude she was being, even with no one near enough to pay her any attention, she threw her hand in front of her mouth.

Sirius had kept her up half the night, and then woke her an hour before she needed to be up. Honestly, she had no idea how the man even functioned when he was unattached if this was how ravenous he was in a relationship. She stretched and gave herself a shake. It would be lovely to let herself believe it was simply something about her that had him so fired up all the time, but she was never one to posit questions that might have ego-crushing answers.

Leaning against the wall, she tipped her head back and blinked tiredly up at the ceiling. Why couldn't Kingsley Shacklebolt have respect for mornings and not ask for meetings until, oh, say, sometime after noon?

Just as her eyes began to drift closed, the door opened.

Snapping up her head, she nearly stumbled as she pulled herself away from the wall to stand straight. It seemed sheer dumb luck that she got her balance the same moment as Kingsley ducked his head into the corridor.

"Ah, there you are, Hermione! Good morning. Please, come in."

Hermione frowned as she watched him step back from the doorway and sweep an arm inside. There she was? How dare he sound surprised to find her waiting when he was the one who'd insisted she drag herself here at ungodly o'clock! Okay, so it was really 9 am, but 9 am felt like ungodly o'clock when one was lacking for sleep.

Keeping her grumbling to herself, she plastered on a polite smile and stepped into his office.

Once across the threshold, however, she stopped cold. Remus sat in one of the chairs facing the Minister's desk. The way he shielded his hand with his face told her he had heard Kingsley say her name just now. Was . . . was he covering a wince?

Well, hell, she hadn't known he was going to be here, either, so this was an unpleasant surprise for both of them.

Remus had no problem making it clear that he was uncomfortable around her, so she didn't bother controlling the irritation in her tone as she fixed the Minister with a displeased look. "What's he doing here?"

The werewolf dropped his hand onto the armrest, uncovering that he'd traded his wince for a scowl. "Believe me, I had no idea you would be here, either."

Kingsley closed the door and turned to look at the two of them, the spike of tension in the air palpable. He had heard they did not get along, but he'd hoped that had been an exaggeration. Two of the smartest, most mature people in Wizarding Britain and this was how they behaved when in the same room? He had seen toddlers fighting over the same toy with less vitriol between them.

"I beg your pardon," he said, his naturally booming voice filling the room with little effort, "I don't recall requiring approval from either of you on how I conduct my meetings."

Exhaling a regretful sigh, Hermione nodded. "Sorry. I'm just a bit cranky this morning."

Rolling his eyes, Remus gave a non-committal shrug as he offered a nod of his own. "Sorry." Dammit, hadn't he already felt low enough for treating her so terribly all the time without any true reason? Yet here he was doing it again.

Collecting himself, he sat up a bit straighter and turned in the chair to face her. "I'm sorry."

The witch was taken aback by the unexpectedness of his apology. "I . . . ." Her voice catching in her throat, she shook her head. "Thank you." She honestly had no idea how to feel at hearing the sincerity in those two little words.

Remus didn't say you're welcome. He was honestly afraid to open his mouth again, not having the foggiest idea what might fly out of it next. Instead, he nodded again and forced a small, tightlipped smile.

"Good," the Minister barked the word, secretly enjoying how the other two occupants of the room jumped. "Now that we're all friends again, perhaps we can get on with the actual reason I summoned you both here?"

Hermione was grateful for an excuse shift her focus away from Remus, to shift her thoughts away from whatever weirdness had just happened. "I assume this has to do with my Wolfsbane Solution?"

"You assume correctly." Kingsley crossed the floor—content in the knowledge that he finally had two sensible, fully functioning adults in the room—and seated himself behind his desk. "Next full moon is in just two days. Tell me, Hermione, how confident are you in the efficacy of this Solution of yours?"

Quickly going over her calculations once more in her head, she squinted one eye and pursed her lips. Clearing her throat, her expression sobered as she answered, "Approximately ninety-fi—no, ninety-eight percent confident it should work without issue."

"I must admit I'm a bit concerned at that missing two percent and the word should," Remus couldn't help from responding despite the awareness that she was not speaking to him. He knew this was an experimental process, but Hermione Granger's reputation with spells, charms, and potions, had given him a—admittedly grudging—certainty about the entire thing.

"That would be my concern, as well." Kingsley nodded, exhaling long and loud through his nostrils. "Hermione?"

Looking from the Minister to the werewolf, and back, she held up her hands. "I should say mostly the two percent is missing because we have yet to actually test it. It's one thing to be positive something works in theory, another to find out in practice. I can't know with absolute certainty that it will work without testing it. I thought that was the entire point of Remus volunteering to try it."

Remus puffed out his cheeks and nodded. "Well, yeah, sure, it was, but hearing it is something else, entirely."

She cast her gaze toward the ceiling while uttering a scoffing sound. "You know, from anyone else, two percent would be considered pretty close to a sure thing. How's it different for me?"

"Because you're you!" Remus snapped.

Her attention immediately fell to him and her brows shot up.

"You're possibly the most intelligent person any of us know, so if you are not one hundred percent confident something you have created will work, it tends to give the rest of us a moment's pause."

Well . . . he'd explained himself, but Hermione didn't know if his reasoning made her feel better or worse about his momentary temper tantrum.

"And that is why I summoned you both here." Kingsley steepled his hands atop his desk. "Of course, the notion of any untested formula being completely effective in its trial run is foolish at best, reckless at worst. We have selected a location to confine Remus during the full moon while he takes your Solution, in case anything should go wrong."

"And that decision included me because . . . ?" the witch ventured with a cringe, suddenly painfully certain she would not like where this was headed.

Kingsley shrugged, seeming to brace already for their responses. "That includes you because what this means is that Remus will have to be monitored during the night while the Solution does its work, and said monitoring would have to be done by the one who created it."

Despite their combined brain power, the two of them stared back at the Minister as though neither of them understood a single word he'd said. Which, actually, didn't surprise Kingsley one bit given their contentious dynamic.

Clearing his throat, he clarified. "There will be protections in place to safeguard you, but Hermione, in order for this to work—in order to know it will work, in order to make corrections or fixes on the spot should such a thing become necessary—you'll have to stay the night of the full moon in confinement with Remus."

Hermione's gaze immediately locked on Remus of its own accord. He was already staring back at her. She had no idea which of them appeared more horrified by this news.