"We need medical assistance! Somebody help!"
Remus ran through the front doors at St. Mungo's, Draco's bleeding body draped over his arms, with Narcissa, in a cloak and her thin camisole, fast on his heels. Healers poured out of doorways and gasped, running for their medical equipment, trying to help. Two of them produced a stretcher; Remus lifted Draco onto it. Someone prodded his neck wound with a wand. Draco let out an ear-splitting howl of pain and began writing in agony. Narcissa burst into tears again and clung to his hand. Remus shoved the assailant out of the way roughly, shouting, "Idiot! We need some help!"
Someone ripped Narcissa away. She screamed and fought against him, calling for her son. Healers surrounded Draco. One of them pointed his wand at Draco's throat and muttered "Episky." The blood flow stopped.
"You have to let him go," another healer said to Remus, who had not let go of the stretcher since he had put Draco on it.
Remus shook his head, "I'm not leaving him."
"Let me go! Let me go!" Narcissa sobbed, "That's my son!"
Someone shouted, "It's the Malfoy boy! Look at him! He looks just like his dead father!"
Silence fell over the room, except for the sound of Draco's incoherent moans.
"Someone alert the Ministry," a low voice said, "This boy is a criminal."
Narcissa broke free and flung herself between the stretcher and the healers.
"Nobody's taking him! He's injured, can't you see? A werewolf bit him."
"A werewolf!" Voices hushed. Remus could sense a few people staring at him suspiciously.
"It was Fenrir Greyback," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Calm down! He's dead. The Ministry must be alerted. But you must help this boy! He's going to die without medical attention!"
The healers looked at each other questioningly. Then, several of them took the stretcher and began pushing it through the double doors. Narcissa tried to run after it, but Remus stopped her.
"I can't leave him! Draco – "
"No, Narcissa! They'll take care of him. Right now, you need to stay with me," Remus replied determinedly, "We have a lot of explaining to do."
The main entrance doors opened and Rufus Scrimgeour, along with several Aurors from the Ministry, came charging through. Remus felt Narcissa stiffen next to him. He held her hand tightly, willing her silently, don't say anything. Let me take care of this.
"Where is he?" Scrimgeour bellowed, "Where is the Malfoy boy?"
He stopped short when he saw them, "Remus Lupin? Is that you?"
"It's me," Remus answered, "And you can't see Draco Malfoy. Not yet."
"You've been hiding them?" Scrimgeour asked incredulously, "You've been hiding Draco and his mother? For all of these months?"
Remus nodded.
Scrimgeour turned a nasty shade of scarlet, "Dumbledore's would-be killer? You hid him from us?"
"He is NOT a killer!" Narcissa cried.
"Narcissa, be quiet! Let me handle this," Remus urged her, squeezing her hand tighter.
He turned back to Scrimgeour, "Mrs. Malfoy is right, Minister. It's true that Draco Malfoy was ordered by the Dark Lord to murder Albus Dumbledore. But there are several eyewitnesses – including Harry Potter – who saw Draco hesitate, and saw Severus Snape murder Dumbledore. Which I believe you knew, when you swore out the warrant for his arrest."
Scrimgeour bristled, "How do you figure, Lupin?"
"Simple," Remus took a deep breath, "You have him wanted for attempted murder. Not for the murder itself."
"Semantics," Scrimgeour shouted, "I want that boy taken into custody."
"He's been bitten by a werewolf," Remus replied, "He's in critical condition."
"A werewolf?" Scrimgeour blanched.
Remus nodded, "Fenrir Greyback."
Scrimgeour's eyes flickered over to Narcissa's face, which was as pale as milk. Her blue eyes looked very bright, rimmed as they were in red from her tears.
He took a deep breath, seeming to be making a concerted effort at tact.
"We need to take someone in for questioning, Remus," he said with difficulty.
"Then I'll go," Remus replied.
"Not you," Scrimgeour cut him off, "We need the boy."
"I told you, you can't take him yet."
"I'll go."
Narcissa stepped forward and let go of Remus' hand.
"Narcissa, he needs you," Remus replied softly, "Let me go, I'll take care of this."
"No," she stopped him, "Listen to me. I'm tired of running. I'm tired of worrying that my son is going to be hurt. If I had turned the two of us in long before now, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe my son wouldn't be between life and death behind those doors." Her voice cracked. She swallowed and began again.
"You've done too much for us already. It's time to stop running."
Remus felt sick. "Narcissa."
"Stay with Draco. He needs you now more than he needs me." She squeezed his hand.
She knows, Remus realized. He felt his eyes filling with tears.
"Don't cry," she whispered, "Or I'll start up again."
She turned back to Scrimgeour and squared her shoulders. "I'm ready, Minister."
Scrimgeour jerked his head in assent. He nodded to one of the Aurors standing next to him. The Auror took his wand out and pointed it at Narcissa's wrists.
Remus' heart leapt into his throat, "Don't you dare restrain her!" he shouted, "She's going willingly, isn't she? She's unarmed!"
Scrimgeour glanced at Narcissa, shivering in the thin camisole and inadequate cloak, with no place to disguise her wand. He shook his head, and the Auror put his wand away. Two Aurors flanked Narcissa on each side, and escorted her from the building. She did not look back.
Scrimgeour looked at Remus one last time. It was a look of regret. Then he turned and followed them out the door.
Hours later, Healer Smethewyck came out, looking sweaty and exhausted, and sat next to Remus in the waiting room.
"I remember you," he said, "I was Mr. Arthur Weasley's Healer, back last year when he was here with snakebite. Remember? You were so kind to that patient – the werewolf."
"I have good reason to be," Remus replied shortly, "How is Draco?"
"He's sustained a lot of blood loss," the Healer replied, "And he's going to have a nasty scar. But he's going to live."
Remus closed his eyes in relief.
"I should let you know, though," Smethewyck went on, looking pained, "It was a clean bite. He's not going to have an easy time of it from now on."
"He's going to be a werewolf, isn't he?" Remus asked quietly.
"I'm afraid so."
Remus felt his insides melt inside him, as if they were turning into water. He thought of all of his years, growing up with the stigma of the bite, of feeling like an outsider, of being unable to get a job. Draco would have to go through all that now. Narcissa's son. Narcissa! He thought of her and felt worse. Narcissa would be heartbroken. He felt tears welling in his eyes and angrily brushed them away. Was he never going to stop crying?
"It's not as bad as that, sir," Smethewyck said comfortingly, "He's going to live, and that's something, isn't it? And these days werewolves can live perfectly normal lives. You're living proof of that."
Remus looked at his feet and nodded.
"Are you the boy's guardian?" Smethewyck asked, businesslike.
Remus did not know how to answer, "Well – I'm looking after him."
"He's going to need looking after," the Healer replied, "Give us another hour or so, and then you can go in and see him. All right?"
Remus nodded. Smethewyck got up and pushed his way through the double doors. Remus watched him go, and then got to his feet.
Draco was all right. Good. That was one fear off his mind. The fact that Draco would be a werewolf in only a few hours' time was another matter entirely – he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
Right now, he had something else to worry about.
Narcissa.
"Where is she?"
Remus was so angry he thought he might hit Scrimgeour. The Minister's face was a mottled angry purple color, and he looked rather affronted.
"We finished questioning her about an hour ago," he said stiffly. "She's in the holding cell."
"You put her in a cell? In this cold?" Remus grabbed Scrimgeour by the front of his robes, "Did you not see what she was wearing?"
"Get your hands off me," Scrimgeour demanded, pulling Remus' hands from the front of his robes.
Remus stepped back, breathing heavily.
"This is a gross miscarriage of justice," he said slowly, "She hasn't done anything wrong."
"She herself is responsible for the miscarriage of justice!" Scrimgeour bellowed, "She's been harboring a known criminal!"
"Look," Remus hissed, leaning close to Scrimgeour's face, "Her son isn't going to be conducting any Death Eater activity any time soon. He's going to be a werewolf for the rest of his life."
Scrimgeour turned white. "And I suppose you want to take him home, is that it? You want us to drop the charges?"
"You think I'm like Fenrir Greyback?" Remus could not believe his ears, "That's exactly the sort of stereotypical point of view I should have come to expect from the Ministry. It's a wonder that I still hold out on hope that some day you'll recognize us for what we really are – people, just like you."
Scrimgeour's expression did not alter.
"You can see her in the holding cell," he said dispassionately, "She'll be arraigned later this afternoon."
Remus wanted to spit in Scrimgeour's face. He turned his back on him and walked towards the elevator.
The doors opened, and Dawlish, one of the Aurors who had escorted Narcissa to the Ministry, ran past him towards Scrimgeour.
"Minister," he managed, "We've found Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback. Both dead."
"What?" Scrimgeour asked. "They're dead? You're sure?"
Dawlish nodded, "I'm positive. Harry Potter alerted us to their presence. They were killed this morning."
"Who did it?" Scrimgeour demanded, "They shall be commended."
Dawlish looked uncomfortable, "According to Potter – Narcissa Malfoy and Remus Lupin."
Scrimgeour's face went pink again.
"Impossible," he said.
He turned to Remus. "Lupin! Is this true?"
Remus looked at him stonily.
"You'll have to ask Narcissa."
He stepped into the elevator and ignored their pointed stares as the doors swung closed.