Author's Note: If there are any typoes in this story, please tell me. I'm not sure Word caught them all.

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A quiet ride of self-contemplation had awaited me as the Knight Bus brought us through its rounds to the Ministry. It had only been a few short minutes, given, but the amount of reflection had given me a headache.

Being a werewolf was, perhaps, not as hard as some made it sound, essentially. It was popular belief among my 'community' that the shape-shifting and painful nights were but a small problem that we had to deal with, compared to others. Well, other, really, singular. Dolores Umbridge, for as long as I could remember, had always opposed us, had always kept us down-trodden as much as possible. Given, it had been quite a trick to fit in before she had arrive, I'd been but a cub when she first took rule in the ministry, but I could remember when the first laws had been in place.

At one time, I had been unable to leave my own home, or even my own bedroom, because of a law she had managed to get ratified and passed (it, thankfully, had been busted due to suite brought against it). And at another time, I had been almost completely treated like a normal being, but that had died as soon as she took office, and had yet to return.

The mess it took to find a job was one of the biggest problems that leant itself to the access of werewolf bitings. Many bitten men and women lived homelessly, ranging for odd jobs and a roof for their head, the fear from childhood horror stories still lodged deep within an employer's head, especially if they were magical. Most often, we would have to look for muggle jobs, which eventually was made impossible by a law passed by Umbridge.

Although, that was one of her only laws that I thought was fitting and actually justified. Some of the loonier, so-to-speak, muggles had guessed us for what we were, but the danger of biting them had been too much. A man could almost forget what he was around the simple, non-magical folk, could almost believe that witches and goblins were nothing but storybook. Well, until the full moon came about.

Picking at my robes, I smiled cynically. I hadn't ever needed a job, it was unfair in many aspects, even a disadvantage for me at points. I mulled as the bus popped up in front of the Ministry's tattered phone booth, and was instantly escorted off by both Golby and conductor, Stan something. It disappeared with a bang, leaving my companion and I alone in a swirl of dust.

I pulled my cloak more closely around me, uncaring of whether there was a muggle to see my odd dress, knowing well enough that it was clear of any sign of life. Getting in the ministry was easy enough with my house elf remembering the keys and numbers to dial, and soon enough I had been spun and warped into the Ministry's front foyer, nearly stumbling into the back of a ruddy-faced wizard in a pinstripe robe-suit.

"Watch out, Miss," he said, helping me steady myself before pulling out his wand and checking my house-elf, and myself, own with a quick flick. "Third hall down the right, you should know the drill. Nice seeing you again, Madam," he finished, pinning a badge to my cloak before ushering Golby to a waiting room. House-elves, however happy and equal they appeared in the St. Mungo fountain, were not allowed past the entrance desks. And there, in that right-hand wall, I found a queue of others, and took my place behind an elderly warlock whose cheerful humming kept me from frowning in dismay.

Oh, the lines, the lines. What ever were they created for?

The wait was grueling, even for a patient such as me. Well, truthfully, I admitted, I had never been all that patient when dealing with the Ministry, and trying to garner any sort of self-pity whilst waiting in this horrible line wasn't going to get me anywhere. I shoved my hands in my pockets feeling oddly hopeless at the moment. The line look as if it were going to take ages more for her to reach the front, and it was already, what, half past three.

After waiting so long, and moving so little, my resolve had finally started unraveling. This horror of an afternoon was supposed to be finished and hour and a half ago, but the newest procedures had added to the wait, and I soon began to scowl, much to my own chagrin. At least they hadn't taken my wand away; perhaps I'd get away with blasting a few holes in the wall. Least it keep us all amused.

Switching weight from one foot to the other, I swayed and brushed against another queued and found myself apologizing into the same hazel eyes as the ones that stared at me in the mirror. "Excuse me," I said, straightening back up, taking in the other person with a quick second glance.

His robes were frayed and patched, and his weary looking person matched the tired robes. His fine brown hair had begun to gray at the temple, and years of work and worry had taken their toll on him, although he still possessed a thoughtful face and a kindness behind his werewolf eyes that was especially unique to his person. His eyes lit up benevolently, betraying the hardness of a werewolf-exterior, and his manner warmed considerably. Even the most anti-social almost waited on baited breath for conversation to strike up when they waited here. It made the passing quicker and the ordeal smoother considerably.

"No need to apologize," he said cheerfully, though his voice was lowered to accommodate the hushed murmur that barely rose in the room. It wasn't a truly formal affair, but all eyes would have been on me had I sneezed at any time, the quiet far too over-whelming for comfort. "Are you all right though, you bumped your head."

"I did?" I asked, raising a hand to check for bumps, I hadn't felt it if I really had.

"Just a small nick, hit my shoulder. Just making sure," he said quickly, assuring me as a patted down my hair. I felt terribly vain in front of him, my robes weren't exactly new, I hadn't bothered to change, but in comparison..

"Ah, well, thank you," I responded politely, offering him a warm smile and a hand, "Cadley Abernathy, at your service." My reply sounded to snappy, too.. something, but I didn't like it, but the man didn't seem to be offended. It was a pompous reply, that's what it was.

It was almost ironic, adding that little quip, seeing as I rarely went anywhere without my own servant. Almost funny, actually.

"Nice to meet you," he said, a friendly grin appearing. "Remus Lupin, at yours."

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Author's Note: Finally, Remus has been introduced, although.. I'm not exactly sure whether or not he'll be in each chapter properly. As much as my fingers itch to turn this story into a duet, a romance, its solely the story of a single werewolf at the moment, though her experiences are shared world-wide.

Any questions, feel free to ask, as well, I'd like to apologize for any confusion I may had caused with the first-person narrative and the lack of a name. I hadn't even meant to put her name in this chapter, but it seemed to come in as a snappy little saying.

As well, I don't normally write like this, pompous, self-righteous, normally I write quite.. normal. It's merely Cadley. Any other kind of writing wouldn't do her justice.