A massive thanks to Mirabelle P, my brave new beta. You've done a wonderful job. xx

^V^

The interrogation rooms used by the Department for Magical Law Enforcement were not particularly pleasant. Sirius didn't know if the architect of the Ministry of Magic building had arranged the rooms in close proximity to the holding cells and court rooms for the purpose of convenience or intimidation. As they had also, rather inconveniently, omitted basic amenities such as windows and heating charms, Sirius thought it likely that it was the later. Vindictive old coots, he mused, as he walked the length of the chilly stone corridor. But then, he was on his way to question their most likely suspect in the Wolfsbane case, someone who could have got Remus executed, so maybe sitting in a cold windowless room was a little less than Mr Fawley deserved anyway.

The N.H.S. inspector was pacing the small room when Sirius entered. He let the door slam loudly behind him, and Fawley jumped out of his skin. It was no surprise that Fawley was jumpy, he'd already had the standard questioning from Frank and Tonks first thing that morning. He'd been left to stew in the interview room until now. Unfortunately, Sirius would have to let Fawley go after their conversation, because he had nothing to ask him that Frank and Tonks hadn't. But repetition was a very simple way of picking up on subtle differences in the suspect's replies, and guilty people tended to make mistakes when under pressure. So it was worth one more try.

"Good morning Mr Fawley," Sirius said shorty, taking place on one of the chairs around a rather utilitarian table in the middle of the room, and inviting Fawley to do the same. The man was wearing his Ministry I.D. and his white inspection coat was hanging over one of the chairs. He seemed rather impatient as he sat down and smoothed the front of his blazer.

"Auror Black," he said at once, he straightened his glasses and then folded his hands on the table top. "I hope you've come to tell me I'm free to go. I've been here for nearly three hours – that's as long as you can legally hold me without any evidence." He looked quite sure of himself. Sirius should have expected this: Fawley worked for the Ministry, he'd be well schooled in his legal rights.

"Perhaps I have evidence," Sirius said haughtily. He didn't have evidence of course, but Fawley wasn't to know that yet. He flipped open the case file he was carrying and said, "Wesley Fawley of 33 Tudor Road, South Shields?"

"Yes," Fawley said patiently, "as I've already confirmed with Aurors Longbottom, Moody and Tonks."

"You are a qualified Healer?" Sirius continued.

"Yes, to inspect our nation's healing facilities you must be fully qualified in the field."

Sirius looked down at the notes. "Wolfsbane is one of the standard curriculum potions in healing training, is it not?"

"Of course, and doesn't that counter your allegations?" Fawley suggested, a touch of impatience entering his voice. "I believe the potion didn't work, whereas I am quite capable of brewing it correctly."

"I'm sure," Sirius said smugly. He'd hit a nerve. "You would also know ways to contaminate it, Mr Fawley. The potion was obviously brewed correctly, only one of the recipients suffered a normal transformation. The problem is that you had access to the measured out doses that afternoon."

"I advise you to speak with Poppy Pomfrey," Fawley said tightly. "She and I worked steadily together all afternoon."

"Did you?" Sirius asked, annoying even himself with his patronising tone.

"Yes," insisted Mr Fawley.

"Well that's not completely true, is it? You see, Greta Reeves said that you spoke to her, Flora Black and Draco Malfoy while Poppy was getting the–" he flipped the page in his notes as if checking a fact, even though he knew them by heart now, "–gauze inventory. Snape delivered the potion directly after classes, and the matron measured out the two separate doses while you were there. The cups with the potion were in the office while Poppy was absent."

Fawley seemed to pray for patience. He closed his eyes behind his glasses and took a deep breath. When he spoke he sounded calm once more.

"Yes, but I think Greta, your daughter and Mr Malfoy could all tell you that I did not enter the office. In fact, it would have been difficult for anybody to enter. Poppy and I were checking the patient records, and unfortunately her undetectable extension charm did not extend past the door of the record cupboard. Once she got the files out for me to check, it was somewhat of a disaster." Then he added, "I'm sure she was just trying to annoy me."

Sirius frowned at the conversational reply. He slammed the file shut, possibly a little too dramatically, and asked brusquely, "Why would you want Mr Lupin to face a normal transformation?"

"I wouldn't." Fawley said at once.

"Did you only contaminate his dose because you know Greta's father? She says he talks about you at home."

"I would guess he doesn't say many kind things about me," Fawley said. "Compliance inspectors aren't really anyone's favourite person."

"But you've known him a long time?"

"Yes, he runs a tight ship out there at Azkaban, very acceptable. I visited on Friday morning in fact."

"Yes, you told Auror Longbottom that. He's written here that you then came to the Ministry to collect the Hogwarts paperwork and file your Azkaban report before leaving for the school."

"That is correct," Fawley said. "Really Auror Black, you must look elsewhere for your tamperer. I have no motive, I was not alone with the potion – you are wasting your time with me."

"I will decide that," Sirius said, but he knew Fawley was right. Truth be told, Sirius was having issues with seeing past Snape's very likely involvement. The greasy git had brewed the potion for Merlin's sake. And he hated Remus, and was a horrible evil prick. But Frank and Moody both needed more evidence than that. So Sirius had moved on to the next likely suspect, even if he seemed far too straight-laced and fond of authority to attempt such a potentially horrific crime.

Sirius couldn't believe how lucky they had been that James had suggested a Hogwarts full moon. The three men hadn't been together in months – not since the summer when they had met at Remus's secluded forest cottage to run about in the woods, pretending to be much younger than they were. It had all been so spur of the moment too, James's memo had only arrived in Sirius's office at lunchtime on Friday.

"Mr Black?" Fawley said, interrupting Sirius's distraction. "May I go? I have a very tight schedule to keep. I've already missed my morning appointments."

"Auror Black," Sirius corrected him, just because he was annoyed. "Yes, you can go. But if you need to go anywhere except home and work you'll have to clear it with us. You're still a suspect."

Fawley handed Sirius a piece of parchment. "This is my inspection schedule for the week. As you can see I'm required to be in Manchester in forty minutes, tomorrow morning is Cardiff and then the afternoon is a care home on the Isle of Wright."

Sirius frowned at the list. Good grief this man got around. "Fine," Sirius said, "leave me the details of all the facilities you will be at this week, and then get going. You can expect an Auror to drop in on you regularly."

As Fawley wrote out the required information, Sirius perused the front page of Fawley's file. His eyes fell on the address. It struck him as odd that the tightly wound inspector came from such a place – Sirius had picked him as a Southerner due to his accent.

"Why do you live in South Shields of all places?" Sirius asked curiously. "It's not like it's close to work – but then, nowhere is for you really."

"I'm a muggleborn," Fawley said. "My father worked at the ship yards. When he passed away I got the family home, in South Shields."

"Oh," Sirius said. Fawley must have worked hard to rid his speech of its northern burr. Sirius supposed that could be considered suspicious … although he reasoned attending Hogwarts and training at St-Mungo's medi-school would beat any regional accent out of anyone. Personally Sirius didn't like northern port very much – mainly because it was the port the Aurors used to get out to Azkaban, but also because the surrounding area was so heavily industrialised, unlike Godric's Hollow in the West Country.

"You associate it with Azkaban," Fawley said. It wasn't a question. "So many Aurors do. A lot of the guards live in town," he went on. "It's probably a safer place for it."

"I didn't mean any offence," Sirius said.

"None taken," Fawley said. "This is really terrible business, I'm so glad the little girl wasn't affected. I actually saw her father that very evening – He was walking by on his way to the docks when I'd gone out to clear my letter box. Poor chap had a double shift… Hard worker that Archie."

"Yes, so I've heard."

Sirius had: in her letters Flora spoke of her new friend Greta, a girl who was happy to be at school because she was often left in the care of, in Flora's words, 'a frighteningly fat old woman' from across the street while her father worked and worked. Frank was actually in the process of trying to get in contact with the man so that they could get his permission to question Greta. But he was yet to answer his floo.

After he escorted Fawley from the dungeons, Sirius went in search of his wife and a cup of tea. He didn't have to look very hard. Hermione was to be found in the same place she always was on a weekday at half twelve: sitting in the busy staff tea rooms. Hermione was a creature of habit, Sirius had discovered during the last twelve years. No matter her work load, at twelve o'clock it was time for lunch and she would invariably sit in the same chair, at the same end of the same long table that ran the length of the room. She claimed it helped her focus to have the same schedule every day, and as she was possibly the most focused person Sirius had met in his whole life, he guessed it worked. Maybe he should start taking regimented lunch breaks too…

Unsurprisingly she was absorbed in a book. She sat eating somewhat mechanically, her fork speared bits of salad from the bowl in front of her as her eyes flitted back and forth across the page. Sirius smiled fondly. Hermione with a book in hand, completely unaware of her surroundings was a sight that made him feel nostalgic. It always reminded him of evenings spent in her little hotel room in the mad four months leading up to Voldemort's death, back when they were really only kids. She'd seemed so grown up to him then, so responsible, so ridiculously brave. She still was of course, but pushing paper in the Ministry hardly required the same level of steely nerve as orchestrating an assassination.

"Sirius? You alright there?" Hermione asked, obviously not quite as blinkered by her book as he had thought. She was smiling at him, but there was a tiny line of consternation between her eyes that suggested he was behaving oddly.

He supposed he was, standing rather gormlessly, staring at his wife across the table which was packed with lunching Ministry drones. But he'd never claimed to be normal, she really should be used to it by now. He nodded and then took a detour via the serving window to get a cup of tea before he squeezed in next to Hermione at the table.

"Hello," he grinned, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "What are you reading?"

"Nothing you'd like," Hermione said lowering her book. The cover showed a crumbling henge, surrounded by what looked like highland crags. "I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed with work today, my brain fancied a holiday."

Sirius read the back cover and then looked significantly at Hermione again. "A war time nurse thrown back in time?"

Hermione twisted her lips, and her cheeks pinked a little. "Yes, where she meets a brave and handsome stranger."

Sirius began to laugh. "I can see why that would appeal to you," he said, preening a little.

"Some time travellers have all the luck," she said, rolling her eyes at his affected pout as she put her book aside and picked up her tea cup. "Well?" she asked. "How did it go? Is the inspector the culprit?"

"Buggered if I know," Sirius said. "I normally feel more certain, but this Fawley, he has absolutely no motive that I can find, and wasn't even alone with the potion. On paper he's no more guilty than Flora, and far less than Snape."

Hermione clicked her tongue in reproach. "Yes, but Snape would never be so foolish. Please don't antagonize him again." She shook her head and then sipped her drink, before she added, "I hate to say it, but he'll only take it out on Flora if you keep at him."

"The frog bits was James not me," Sirius said stubbornly, but he knew she had a point.

"Yes," Hermione conceded, her stern look softening, "but you still laughed about it for the rest of the evening so I'd say you share the burden of guilt equally in Snape's mind."

"Whatever," Sirius shrugged, wanting to laugh again at the mental picture of the sallow skinned grease-ball wiping frog intestine out of his eye. Sirius forced himself to focus. "I'm not sure where to go with the case now. I'm waiting for a reply from Narcissa so that we may question Draco. I'm sure she'll insist on being present, so we might end up doing Draco's interview here, rather than at school.

"It still seems a bit dodgy to have you investigating this while Flora is a suspect, doesn't it?" Hermione said. "I mean, obviously I'm glad that my little girl has the added protection her dad while she goes through something a bit scary, and I want the person who tried to hurt Remus caught, and you and Frank are excellent Aurors but what if –"

"Frank's going to deal with the girls," Sirius cut in, hoping to head off a full-blown Hermione-rant, "we'll get them cleared quickly don't worry." Hermione was still frowning as Sirius continued, "Although he'll need a day off first, he was on duty guarding Remus all last night."

"But you were at home on Saturday night, I hope Frank hasn't been at the castle all weekend," she said, momentarily distracted from her concern.

"No, Tonks did Saturday night," Sirius said. He was quite proud of his young cousin. "She's really coming along, I'm sure I was nowhere near as confident at her age."

"Tonks was guarding Remus?" Hermione asked, Sirius wasn't sure why this was important but it had taken her attention from the dubious ethics of the investigation, so he wasn't going to question it.

"Yeah," he said, "just to make sure no one would come back to get him while he was sleeping, since it's pretty clear whoever tampered with his potion wants to hurt him."

"And what did Tonks think of the famous Remus Lupin...? Did they get along?" Hermione asked, something Sirius couldn't quite grasp lingered in her question.

"Seemed to," he answered. "But then they're both pretty personable – Tonks gets along with everyone and Remus is polite to a fault, even when bandaged and in pain. It wasn't like they were going to argue."

"That's true," Hermione said, and an inexplicable little smirk crossed her face. "Have you heard how he is today? I'm sure Flora will be disappointed that he's away from class."

"Hang on," Sirius said suddenly, finally recognising her odd questions for what they were, "you have your 'I know something' look."

"I think you'll find I know lots of things," Hermione said superiorly, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "I'm very well read."

"You know what I mean," Sirius insisted, "the 'I know something from the future' look."

Hermione blinked innocently at him. "The future we're living in is very different to the one I knew."

"Don't give me that," Sirius grouched. "Is it about me?"

"It's not, it's nothing," Hermione said, picking up her book, and giving it her full attention once more.

"Ha!" Sirius said triumphantly. "If it's not about me then you have to tell me," he said, "that's the rules."

Hermione spared him a quelling glance, before speaking to the pages of her book. "Rules which you made up. Anyway, there's nothing to tell." She turned another page while Sirius was trying to think of a legitimate reason for her to tell him, but before he could come up with one, Hermione asked, "I'm assuming you're going to be guarding him tonight then? If Tonks and Frank have both had a go?"

"Yeah, I will. Come on, even just a hint?" he tried again.

"No," Hermione laughed, "there's nothing to tell." Then she smirked and added temptingly, "Not yet."

"Evil, you are," Sirius said, but he'd never get it out of her if she didn't want to tell, so he gave in. "Right, I'm going to see Moody before I head home to get ready for my Hogwarts sleep over." He leaned in and kissed her, on the lips this time, then pinched a bit of chicken from her salad before he stood up. "See you for lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure," Hermione said, "let me know when Frank is talking to Flora, I'll make sure I can be there. Have a nice time with Remus tonight."

Sirius grinned and nodded, pleased that Hermione was more worried about Flora than the multiple conflicts of interest with him investigating the case. "Will do."

On Monday lunchtime Flora Black sat at the Gryffindor table between her dorm mates Greta Reeves and Beth Longbottom. The Great Hall was crowded and noisy as usual, students in every direction laughing and teasing and stuffing their faces.

Flora had grown up with stories of Hogwarts. Her father had attended the school but her mother hadn't, even though she seemed to know an awful lot about Hogwarts. But then, Flora's mum knew an awful lot about everything, so perhaps it wasn't that surprising. There were a lot of books written about Hogwarts, after all. With a childhood full of stories from her dad and uncles, and then from Harry and Neville when they started, Flora thought she knew what to expect, but no stories prepared you for living in close quarters with eight hundred teenagers. It was loud and crowded and huge. The shifting staircases and repetitively similar corridors had gotten her lost more than once during her first three months.

But even with all the overwhelming differences to her old life in Godric's Hollow, Flora loved Hogwarts. There was, however, something concerning her, and she was reminded of it as she looked across the hall. Through a gap in the sea of students Flora could see the back of a lone bright blond head bent over his plate at the Slytherin table. Sat apart from the other students, was her favourite, and only proper cousin, Draco.

Flora didn't know what to do about Draco. He'd been her friend since before she could remember, her bossy older cousin who lived at Granny Wally's. She'd never known that he had no friends at school, but now she knew why he never talked about Hogwarts the way Harry and Neville did.

Flora may have only been here for three months but in that time she'd never seen Draco sitting with anyone at meals, or in the library. The only time she'd ever seen him in the company of his housemates was on an evening a month ago when she'd come across him surrounded by four towering upper years in a basement corridor. The older boys had left when Flora had said a bright hello to Draco, squeezing in between them to tug him by the arm in the direction of the kitchens, where they were supposed to be meeting to have biscuits.

Outside of those few trips to the kitchen, they rarely got to see each other. The Hogwarts Draco was very different to her childhood friend, and it bothered her terribly.

A gale of laughter from the corner where Harry was sat whispering something to Ron Weasley and Neville drew her attention away from Draco. She scowled down the table at them. Harry's bruised face really didn't lessen her ire at him. There he was, sitting happily with his mates while Draco was all alone. They were friends in the summer too, Draco and Harry, just not at school it seemed.

Flora's mum had always told her that girls could be tricky, cliquey and prone to pack mentality, but it seemed to Flora that teenage boys were just as bad. Draco was a decent boy, possibly a little sarcastic, and not very polite if you beat him at Quidditch – which she had only managed once, in rather dubious circumstances, and he still maintained she cheated – but he was generally fun and easy to get along with.

She watched him across the hall. The other third year Slytherin boys sat not far from him, the good looking Blaise Zabini flanked, as ever, by Crabbe and Goyle – two hulking apes that served the dual purpose of protection and making Zabini look even more handsome in comparison.

Then, out of nowhere, an older boy, at least in fifth year, sat down right next to Draco. He leaned in close and Draco seemed to shy away. His shoulders hunched, he glanced up at the staff table, and in profile Flora could see his mouth was a thin line. Then Draco dug in the pocket of his robe and, bizarrely, grabbed the older boys hand for a moment. The older boy smiled, bumped Draco with his shoulder and then stood up and left. As soon as he was gone Draco cast a nervous look down the table, before he snatched an apple from the bowl in front of him, swung his bag onto his shoulder and quickly got to his feet to make his way out of the hall.

Flora was not the sort of girl to let things lie – genetics, her dad said. She excused herself from Greta and Beth and followed her cousin's quick retreat.

Draco was tall for his age and his hurried strides were longer than Flora's. As soon as she was out of the hall she ran after him, down the stairs to the basement corridor that led to the dungeons. Her fast steps slapped noisily on the flagged stone floor and Draco stopped before the next flight of stairs, having obviously heard her.

He turned around and gave her a half smile. "Why are you chasing me?" he asked.

"Why are you holding hands with fifth year boys?" Flora countered immediately, coming to a dead stop rather suddenly, directly in front of him.

Draco looked down at his hands, and back at Flora. His bandages poked out just below his robe sleeve, but his arm didn't seem to pain him as he said, "I'm not," and wiggled his fingers at her.

"Yes," she insisted, "I saw you, at the lunch table."

Draco's face paled slightly, and he shoved his hands inside his pockets. He swallowed and lifted his sharp chin a fraction, but he spoke calmly. "Maybe I like holding hands with boys. Some boys do you know."

Flora drew herself up and folded her arms across her chest. She could tell he was hiding something. Just because she was only eleven years old didn't mean she couldn't see a blatant lie. "You looked like you didn't want him there," she said glaring sternly up at Draco. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing, just leave it Flora," Draco sighed resignedly. His eyes flicked up and down the corridor and he continued, "I'm going to see Professor Snape, he promised to help with my Dark Arts essay. Did you want to come along?"

"Merlin, no," Flora said at once, deciding to let Draco keep his secret for now. She would have to do some digging. "Professor Snape's head would explode if he had to see me outside of lessons. He barely copes with them as it is."

Draco gave her a proper smile. "He really does hate that you're good at potions you know. I'd love to know what Uncle Sirius did to him at school to make him hate you so much."

Flora had wondered the same thing, and had written home about it after her first week. "Mum says Dad was a bully before he grew up," she told Draco, "and that I should try and show Professor Snape that I'm not like that." It seemed dubious advice to her. The Professor really seemed to hate her. She shook her head and said vehemently, "But he's so mean."

There were approaching footsteps and Draco didn't reply. In fact, he looked rather concerned. A moment later Flora knew why.

"Is that so Miss Black?" said the cool, cutting voice of Severus Snape.

Damn it! Flora cursed internally. "Good afternoon Professor," she said quickly, hoping her polite smile hid her panic.

But the Potions Master didn't seem to be in the mood for doling out petty punishments. He scowled down his hooked nose at her. "Draco has potions work to discuss with me and you are holding him up. I suggest you stop putting your own agenda before his education, it is very selfish of you."

"That's not –" Flora began, "I was just worried –"

Snape glared more threateningly and Draco shook his head slightly. "Never mind," she sighed, defeated.

Feeling shunned, Flora dragged her feet all the way back up to the Entrance Hall after Snape had led Draco away. She just wanted to help, why wouldn't Draco talk to her?

^V^

Sometimes I think I shouldn't have called this a *mini* sequel, the pre-plotted plot seems to gain more little tangents with every passing chapter. I promise we'll get back to Remus soon!