Chapter 2: Wedding Dance

Teddy and Victoire's engagement was a hurried one, much to Molly's dismay. The Weasley matriarch had been hoping the couple would wait at least a year before tying the knot. Hermione felt bad for her former mother-in-law – with how lovey-dovey they were, it had apparently been an effort to get Teddy and his bride to agree to wait even four months, in time at least to see all the Hogwarts-aged grandchildren home for the winter holidays.

Teddy and Victoire had a lovely Christmas wedding, out in the snow under a marquee in the backyard of the Burrow. Hovering at the edge of the tented dance floor, Hermione nursed a flute of champagne while drawing her mink wrap around her bare shoulders. The red cocktail dress dated back to the wedding of Victoire's parents, and remarkably still fit, even some twenty-five years on. Hermione was glad for it – she had prided herself on staying fit, and had managed to keep all that pregnancy wait off following the births of both of her children.

The harder ordeal, at least in the present moment, was avoiding Ron, her ex-husband.

He was clearly hoping to talk with her, though what about, Hermione couldn't say. The custody arrangement for Rose and Hugo was still going well, as far as she could discern. A brief pang went through her as she considered that maybe the man to whom she had once been married just wanted to catch up. Try and start again, just as friends… who happened to share two children together. The whole thing was still so strained and awkward that Hermione felt glad that plenty of other people in a festive atmosphere had done a decent job of helping to keep Ron sidetracked, plus the kids. Rose was currently letting her father have a dance; before that, Hermione had seen him making small talk with Harry and Ginny and some other members of the family.

She turned to the bar and ordered a scotch on the rocks, pretending not to notice the young bartender flush as he mixed her drink and hand it to her. Smiling her thanks, Hermione was just lifting the rim of the glass to her lips when she felt someone tap on her shoulder. Fearing a head of red hair awaited behind her, Hermione nearly choked in the middle of an initial sip and spun around…

… but it was only the father of the groom. Remus's smile was soft and tired; no doubt he was relieved that the wedding of his only child had gone off without a hitch.

"Ms. Granger…" For some reason, the invocation of her maiden name made Hermione's heart flutter.

"Oh, Hermione, please.."

"Hermione…" Merlin, hearing that sound on his lips was even worse. She felt the urge to fan herself. It must be the heat, from the portable Muggle heaters Harry had ordered to assist in the many warming Charms. Why anyone would want a wedding in the middle of winter, Hermione didn't know; she and Ron had possessed the good sense to marry at the height of autumn.

"I believe you owe me a dance."

Hermione smiled gently, pleased that he had remembered. "That I do." She wasn't anticipating her breath to hitch when Remus gentlemanly took her waist and guided her gracefully out onto the dance floor.

It was any wonder she managed to hold his gaze; the one time Hermione did avert her eyes as they twirled, she thought she saw Ron staring directly at them from a table on the edge of the floor. No doubt he was curious; the waltzing pair made a striking, if unconventional, sight. Hermione brushed it from her mind – Ron could think what he liked! This was just a dance between two old friends. Extended, surrogate family, really. There was nothing going on! …. Was there?

Staring into Remus's warm, aged eyes, an outside observer might be made to wonder if something was there. But he was holding her platonically, innocently enough, spinning her gallantly.

"Is it hard… being back here?" Remus spun Hermione out.

"Only with Ron. The rest of my old in-laws are a fine bunch for a laugh."

"Your kids seem to be having a good time."

Hermione grinned. "I'm glad, for their sakes. One of the benefits of marrying into a large family – they've never been short playmates in their cousins."

She let out a startled, laughing yelp as Remus suddenly dipped her. She was definitely blushing now. "You old charmer…" She immediately caught herself. "N- not that you're old old, it's just that…"

"Quite all right," Remus chuckled, not taking offense. "I'm glad you agreed to a dance, anyway, because I was hoping to discuss something with you."

"Oh?"

"I am sure you are familiar with the repeal of all the old discrimination policies against werewolves, from your time as Minister?" She nodded. "There is still one on the books."

"Ah, yes," she sighed, remembering. "The Wolfsbane Brewing Act." It had been a surprisingly fierce point of contention during her Ministry. The other, harder laws discriminating against werewolves had been amazingly easy to repeal, but this last holdout had proven trickier. Hermione had always felt bad she had been unable to get that last bit of anti-werewolf policy struck from the books at the Wizgamot when she was Minister for Magic. Not as though she hadn't tried. The Act itself was quite strict about who was qualified to brew and distribute Wolfsbane Potions – only Potions Masters or those with an Outstanding OWL in the subject were permitted to brew and traffic in the substance for werewolf clients. Seeing as Potions was the toughest subject to even get an 'O' in to begin with, the Act thus severely limited who werewolves could turn to for assistance in obtaining Wolfsbane Draught. The Wizgamot had an influential Potions lobby leaning on them, which made repeal of the Act difficult. Some had even tried to argue that the Act wasn't and had never been designed to be discriminatory – that it was for security.

Remus was holding her close as he whispered in her ear: "I want to make a go of striking it down once and for all. You're the best wizarding lawyer there is, and a former Minister, no less. Can you help me?"

Gazing up into his eyes – such melancholy eyes, even when they were bright with hope – Hermione nodded without even having to think about it. Of course she could do this for her friend. "I'd be glad to. It will give me something to add to my caseload, anyway; I haven't had a challenge in some time."

"Seeing as you're the Brightest Witch of your Age? Oh, no doubt!" Remus chortled. Their eyes locked, and then quickly glanced away, both sets of eyes landing on Victoire nestled in her new husband's arms.

"Well… it was a lovely wedding. Ted and Vic look so happy; you must be very proud."

Remus beamed. "That I am."

They agreed to meet after-hours in Hermione's corner office at the Ministry, three nights a week, to build a case that might be heard and accepted by the Wizgamot to overturn the Wolfsbane Brewing Act. Seeing as the Wizgamot functioned as a hybrid of both a legislative and a judicial body, it would be an uphill climb to get them to nullify a law they themselves (or at least their predecessors) had passed.

Hermione felt, however, that with her background as a lawyer and Remus's status as a war hero, that it could be done.

"I think we have a case, Remus," Hermione murmured to her colleague, as she leafed through legal briefs and law tomes, studying the various statutes of the Wolfsbane Brewing Act. "We just have to get the Wizgamot to view the law through a lens of discrimination and not of security." She glanced up at him, struck with a thought, encouraged. "The Department of Magical Substances declared years ago that Wolfsbane was safe for consumption. And the recipe itself isn't even really that complicated to make!"

"Maybe not for you," Remus conceded admiringly.

"Oh, tish, tosh. Any of the students in Rosie's year could do it! Were I teaching at Hogwarts, I would expect the brewing of Wolfsbane Draught to be required testing for N.E.W.T.s, certainly!" Her long, chestnut hair whipped out of her face as she turned sharply to study him. "Out of curiosity, whom do you normally deal with in obtaining your orders of Wolfsbane?"

Remus flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, up until he died, I always went to Severus… Since the Battle, Horace Slughorn has been gracious enough to do it. He's getting on in years now…"

"I heard he is in the retirement community in Flushing…" Hermione remembered.

"111," Remus nodded. "Long life for the bloke. Eyesight's failed him recently, poor chap, and for a while I've just been letting him use the notes that Severus left me…"

"You mean in the Half-Blood Prince's book?" Hermione recalled the textbook her brother-in-law had used during their sixth year. She sat back for a moment in silence, pondering.

"Well… in the meantime… at least until this law is off the books…" She turned to Remus. "I got an 'O' in Potions on both my O.W.L.s and my N.E.W.T.s. Under the law as it stands written now, I'm qualified. Maybe I could brew the Wolfsbane for you until we succeed in overturning this case!"

"Would you?" Remus looked abjectly relieved. "I'd appreciate it so much! I… I can lend you Severus's old notes to assist you; they'd be in the owl post tomorrow!"

Hermione grinned. "It's a plan." She consulted a nearby lunar chart. "I can even have it to you by the next full moon!"

Remus touched her hand. "You are a wonderful friend, Hermione."

Hermione beamed, her heart hammering happily in her ribcage and trying to ignore the spark of electricity that shot up her fingers at his touch.