Chapter Twenty-One

Another morning dawned long before Hermione was ready for it. Unlike the night before, she'd been able to get at least a few hours of sleep. Fenrir had been in better spirits than he had the night she showed him the 'Operation Moonlight' file. Whether it was all an act or he was sincerely feeling better she couldn't quite tell. If he wanted to work out his frustrations on his mattress every time he was upset, who was she to argue with the brilliant idea? It certainly helped her feel tired enough to fall asleep.

Wednesday morning was liable to be an uncomfortable, even tense morning. No mention beyond the fact that she'd sent an owl to Lyall Lupin announcing her visit was made the night before. Maybe he was worried that he would lose his nerve if they talked about it. She could understand… she thought. How could anyone really understand it fully though? The men had a history together that was nothing less than violent and cruel. While she had been able to witness that both men felt large amounts of remorse for their past actions, that didn't mean it would be easy to meet each other face to face.

For another morning in a row, Hermione thought she would have to get up long before Fenrir to keep from disturbing his rest. He hadn't moved or made a single sound since she opened her eyes. When she turned over to look at him, she was surprised to find him awake. His blue eyes stared at the ceiling. Lost in thought, she could only imagine what was on his mind. Was he regretting asking her to take him to Lyall's? Unsure what to say, she simply snuggled closer to him to lay her cheek on his chest. His arm wrapped around her back and he pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

"I'm trying to plan out what I'm going to say to the arsehole when I see him again. Just so I don't go straight for his throat when we get there. I was hoping having a plan would keep me calmer."

"Is it helping?"

"Not really. Each time I try imagining what I'm going to say, I end up imagining how I'd like to murder him instead."

Perhaps if she was laying in bed with any other person she might have been able to see the humor in what he was saying. With Fenrir, however, she knew the high number of people he'd killed over the years. How many of them were because of direct control and how many were because he wanted to wasn't clear, but it didn't matter. If she didn't believe with every fiber of her being that she was safe in his arms, she would've been frightened by the chill in his voice.

"I know I shouldn't admit it, but I don't want to lie to you. If it helps, the Muggle who dared to put his hands on you was the only person I've killed since the war ended."

She was surprised, but pleased by his confession. It was more evidence that the man he was without the Ministry control and potions wasn't a monster at all. Somewhere deep inside despite all that he'd gone through, he was still the kind Hufflepuff who volunteered to be in a program supposedly to help his fellow werewolves. She wished everyone would be able to see that in him again.

"If you think it might be too difficult to face him again, we don't have to go. I can owl…"

"No. I want to see him. I think I need to see him. I don't remember everything about those years, but I do remember my hatred for Lupin, how I wanted him dead more than anyone else involved in the program."

"Why? What did he do to you?"

Fenrir kissed her head in lieu of answering the question. She wouldn't press him. Clearly it wasn't something he was comfortable with discussing and she felt badly for asking in the first place. Not everything was her business. If he wanted to tell her, he could in his own time.

"We should get up now before I lose my nerve. Too much fantasizing about killing the man and I might actually do it."

Playfully dragging her out of bed with him, he did what he could to lighten the mood. No further mention was made as they showered together and dressed of his desires to commit violence. By the time they finished a quick breakfast and were standing outside the front door ready to Disapparate, Hermione could tell that he was nervous again. Slipping her hand in his helped calm him somewhat. An encouraging kiss helped more.

"We don't have to go if you don't want to."

"No, we need to."

Satisfied that he meant it, Hermione recalled the address of the charming little house in Glamorgan. When they landed on the pavement in front Lyall's home, Fenrir didn't release her hand. If he needed the extra bit of comfort or reassurance, she would offer it. They both took deep breaths before approaching the front door.

There was no answer when she knocked the first time. Thinking that it was simply because they'd arrived earlier than the wizard expected, they waited patiently for a couple of minutes before she knocked again. When there was no answer the second time, Hermione started to get worried. An unsettling feeling descended over her shoulders. Where the house felt warm and inviting when she visited it the first time, it felt almost foreboding and eerie. She felt her heart-rate increase.

Just as she was about to knock a third time, Fenrir's hand stopped her. There was an expression of worry on his face that brought her no comfort. When he inhaled deeply and his eyes widened, she felt worried too. Without saying a word, he gently pushed her behind his body. So reminiscent of the night she walked up on her vandalized house, she knew something was terribly wrong.

The door was unlocked. Making certain that his body was still in front of hers, Fenrir pushed open the door with one hand and held his wand tightly in the other. Only the sound of a ticking clock could be heard within. Muttering a homenum revelio, they were both unnerved when it was clear that the spell could sense no human presence. He sniffed the air again. When he turned around once more to look at Hermione over his shoulder, she could almost read in his face what she already feared.

They found Lyall in a pool of his own blood in his kitchen. Just steps away from where they'd shared tea days earlier, he looked as if he'd put up quite a fight. The table was turned over. Broken crockery littered the small room. Whatever happened to the poor man happened quickly, but brutally. Not only did he lay in a congealing pool of his own blood, it coated the walls and there were even drops on the ceiling. It appeared as if he'd been attacked by a wild animal in his own home.

"He's been dead less than a day."

"How do you..?"

"I can smell it. I don't know how to explain it. I've just learned how to tell how fresh blood is just by using my nose."

Fenrir refused to allow her to stay inside the kitchen much longer. Once it was clear the wizard was past help, he ushered her out the front door. Seconds later he had them back in front of his house and in the fresh Scottish air away from the stomach-churning stench of death. While she was glad for the change of scenery, Hermione still felt sick.

"It's all my fault."

As far as she was aware, Lyall Lupin was the first person whose death she had ever personally caused. Even during the violent days of the war, she hadn't killed anyone. Not really. If she helped wear one of the baddies down long enough that someone more powerful and with a stronger constitution took them out, that wasn't exactly her kill, was it?

Before a single tear rolled out of her eyes, Fenrir pulled her against his chest in a tight embrace. Maybe they both needed each other in that moment. It had been a horrible morning for both of them. Hermione was sure she would never get used to being so close to death. There was a security in his arms that allowed her the freedom to cry for the senseless violence. He didn't say anything, didn't offer her any words of comfort or deny that she had any culpability in Lyall's demise. She wouldn't have believed him if he tried. She'd been warned to stop looking and because she didn't, a man was dead.

It was several minutes later that she forced herself out of the warm and wanted embrace. If she allowed herself to give in to her selfish desires, she would never leave. There was a mess, both literal and figurative, that needed to be cleaned up. Hiding away forever would be a mistake she couldn't come back from. Didn't she owe the dead man?

"I need to go to work."

"No, Hermione, you should stay home today. You've had a shock."

"No, I have to. Someone needs to know what happened to Lyall. He was a private man and I just can't bear the thought of him dead and alone and no one finding him for a long time. It's wrong."

He was an intelligent enough man to recognize when to argue and when to let her do what she wished. The fact that he rarely seemed to second-guess her decision or choices made him even more attractive. Too rarely in her adult life had that been the case with her lovers. With a kiss she felt down to her toes, he begged her to be careful. She promised she would do everything possible in her power to come back to him unharmed. It was a promise she wished she didn't have to make. When it was all over and 'Operation Moonlight' was exposed to the world, would they be able to be just another normal, boring couple? Or was that entirely out of the realm of possibilities?

The Ministry of Magic was too bright and cheerful that morning for Hermione's taste. There was too much laughter and far too much idle, inconsequential chatter in the Atrium. Everyone seemed to be in a far too jolly mood on a morning where an innocent man lay savaged and alone in a cozy kitchen in Glamorgan. She had to fight the urge to scream at them all for showing no respect for the dead. Of course when she stopped to allow logical thinking to take over instead, she recognized how insane those expectations were. If she wasn't careful, she could find herself on the wrong side of the door to the Janus Thickey ward in St. Mungo's.

Robert was already seated at his desk when she walked into their office. Perhaps it was simply because it had been a trying time lately and everyone seemed suspicious, but she couldn't help but think his behavior had been quite odd. She was half-tempted to just get the awkwardness out of the way by blurting out her theory that he'd been so bizarre around her because he was in love with Fenrir and jealous of their relationship.

An envelope rested in the middle of her desk. Remembering the scroll with the warning, Hermione felt alert and uneasy all at once. Still sealed, there was no indication where it came from. Only her name was scribbled across the front in yet more handwriting she didn't recognize.

"Did you see who brought this in?"

Her assistant shook his head, not fully grasping how unnerving its delivery truly was. He turned his attention back to his work. The scratch of his quill, a sound that was usually soothing to her ears, sounded unnaturally loud. But then again so did the beating of her heart.

Expecting another threatening scrap of parchment, when she felt the edge of a photograph, she was confused. How she managed to keep from screaming out loud and drawing Robert's attention back on her was something of a miracle. She didn't need to see a photograph of the gruesome scene to remember what Lyall looked like, but she held one in her hand all the same. Forever seared in her memory, seeing the evidence made her stomach churn. Who would be so sadistic to send her the photograph? A message was printed on the back.

You should've stopped meddling when you were warned. The next body will be yours. Stop looking, Hermione.

Feeling in real danger of being sick, she slipped the photograph back in its envelope. She'd already made plans that day to report Lyall's murder to the proper authorities. At least with the photograph of the crime scene she didn't expect anyone to disbelieve her claims. Robert didn't seem to care when she rushed back out into the corridor with some flimsy excuse that she needed to go to another department. If anything, he seemed relieved to see her go.

It was tempting to hide the grim photograph and its threatening message from Harry, but Hermione knew he would have trouble forgiving her if he found out she tried. With so many potential enemies surrounding her every step, she didn't want to alienate one of the very few people she trusted without question. She might have need of his help in the near future.

Once she entered the Auror Office, Hermione could feel eyes on her from across the room. A quick glance in the direction where she knew her ex-boyfriend's desk was confirmed her suspicions. Though he didn't wave or stand up to approach her, Iain didn't even try to hide that he was watching her move towards Harry's office. Still annoyed by his behavior the day before outside the Ministry owlery, she ignored the concern he had etched across his features. She wasn't his to be concerned about any longer.

"I never thought I'd get to the place where I dread seeing you enter my office."

Harry sighed before covering his office with the standard silencing spells they were quickly becoming accustomed to using again. For added measure, Hermione charmed the blinds covering his glass windows to close. She didn't need anyone seeing the gruesome photo who didn't need to see it. Never having done that before due to being concerned laughable rumors about them having an affair would be spread around the Ministry, he knew whatever she was about to tell him was serious.

"I got another message this morning. This was left on my desk."

It seemed wrong to spring a picture like that on him, but Hermione could hardly trust herself to speak. Each moment that ticked by left her feeling more and more overwhelmed. She feared she was only hanging by a thin strand of sanity.

"Fuck! That's…"

"Lyall Lupin, Remus' father. Did you ever meet him?"

"A few times. Dromeda's always tried to keep him informed with what's happening with Teddy. He always acted as if he didn't deserve to have a grandson. I've never understood it."

"It's because it's his fault Remus was a werewolf and he never could forgive himself. I hope maybe he can find some peace now."

The last of her resolve snapped. Covering her face with both of her hands, she was glad the silencing spells hid her loud sobs from the rest of the office. It would be too embarrassing to be seen as the hysterical crying girl she used to be in Hogwarts again. Harry was used to comforting sobbing women after three pregnancies with his wife. He offered her a clean handkerchief and a supportive hand on her back. Though he must have been bursting with questions of his own, he was patient enough to wait until Hermione had some semblance of control over her emotions again.

"I'm sorry. This is all very upsetting."

"Of course it is. You have nothing to apologize for. Even ignoring the threat to your life on the back of the photograph, this is enough to upset anyone."

She was thankful he had grown up and matured so much in the previous ten years. Sometimes it was easy to look at Harry and Ron when they were being silly and joking around and think they were the same infuriating teenage boys they'd been when they were in school, but that wasn't fair to either of them. They'd all had to grow up too quickly in a dangerous world tainted by grief and loss. No one emerged unscathed. It was easy to forget Harry wasn't the same until he looked at her with a serious expression that belonged on the face of someone three times his age.

"What did you mean when you said Lyall was the reason Remus was a werewolf? Greyback was the bastard who bit him when he was just a little boy."

A defensive anger welled up inside Hermione. She wanted to slap Harry for daring to say what he did. It wasn't Fenrir's fault. If it hadn't been for the evil officials in 'Operation Moonlight', he might've lived a quiet life where he did all he could to keep from hurting others. His life likely would've been shorter and he would probably already be dead, but he wouldn't have been turned into a monster. All his generous, caring Hufflepuff heart wanted was to help find a cure for lycanthropy so no one else had to suffer. Remembering that Harry didn't, and for the moment couldn't, know that, she took a deep breath.

"'Operation Moonlight's' main purpose was to control the werewolves in their possession using a combination of potions and compulsion spells, including the Imperius Curse. By his own admission, Lyall was cruel to Fenrir. He didn't give me details and I didn't find them in the 'Operation Moonlight' files, but he claimed he was. Fenrir fought against their attempts to control him. Once he told Lyall that he would kill him the first chance he got. He got a chance. Fenrir was ordered to go to a house where he would wait until the moon was full that night to bite a small boy."

Harry's green eyes narrowed at her story. It was easy to forget how naïve she'd been even just a short time earlier about how truly terrible and evil the Ministry could be. Never would she have believed that anyone was capable of such cruel depravity. Even reading it on parchment was hard to believe. If she hadn't spoken to Lyall directly or been with the real Fenrir, she might have had the same trouble trusting what she was saying was true.

"This program was so much worse than I could've ever imagined, Harry. They would threaten people with the werewolves. Threaten to have their child bitten if one of the members of the Wizengamot didn't vote the way they wanted or if there was a whistleblower who wanted to tell the world what was really happening. Would you want to tell anyone if you came home one night and a werewolf was waiting outside James' window?"

He shook his head. Of course he wouldn't. No sane person would. Suddenly her story made more sense to the loving family man.

"Usually it was just a warning. They'd scare the parent or grandparent to do their bidding. There would be people waiting nearby to stop the werewolf before it actually bit the child. On the night that Remus was attacked, Fenrir pretended like he was still under the full control of the Imperius. Lyall explained that if a werewolf was determined enough, they could fight off the curse. Like you did during fourth year. But, when they transformed, it was harder for them to fight it. Fenrir pretended he was going to the house he was told to go, but instead, he went to Lyall's house. Waited outside his bedroom window for the chance to attack him. Unfortunately for Remus but fortunately for him, he was working late that night and didn't come home until Fenrir had already transformed. Because his orders were to attack a little boy, he did what he was told. He couldn't fight the curse off once he transformed. He attacked Remus. Lyall was able to stop him from killing Remus, but he was too late to keep him from biting him altogether. Lyall never forgave himself for that. If he hadn't been so cruel to Fenrir, he wouldn't have gone specifically to his house looking for him."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I went to Lyall's house last Saturday. He told me what 'Operation Moonlight' was all about and he told me that horrible story. He was the one who confirmed everything for me, Harry. Without him, I wouldn't have been able to find the right files in the Ministry Archives. He'd hidden the real ones years ago somewhere he didn't think anyone would look to keep them from being destroyed. He knew that a day would come when the wrong people would want to bury the existence of such a deplorable and disgusting program."

Hermione wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing by not telling Harry that she'd been to Lyall's house that morning to find his dead body herself. It just didn't feel right to tell him everything. Something within her wanted to protect him and she was sure that also extended to Fenrir. Too many uncomfortable questions would be asked if she admitted she'd gone back for a second visit when there didn't seem to be a valid reason to do so.

"I want to give you an auror guard, Hermione. At all times. I don't want a moment to go by when you're not protected until we can get to the bottom of this."

"No, Harry. That's not necessary."

"I insist. Maybe Iain should move into your spare bedroom."

"Absolutely not! I do not need a guard." She stopped herself before she added 'especially not him' to her statement. Iain unnerved her and she wanted to be as far away from him as possible. "I'm staying somewhere very safe. I promise you that I don't need a guard."

It took some further reassurance to finally get him to see her point. She knew that all he ever did was because he wanted to protect those he loved. It meant the world to her to know that he considered her practically family, but she refused to give in. All she wanted was to hide away with Fenrir in Scotland. She dared anyone to try to attack her while she was with him. He would rip them limb from limb, regardless of the phase of the moon or whether or not he was transformed. She'd already seen him protect her with deadly force. As much as she never wanted to see it again, it comforted her to know what he was capable of.

Harry promised her that he would make certain that Lyall's remains were recovered and treated with the utmost respect. With no family beyond Teddy Lupin, sadly, there wouldn't be many to mourn his loss. She hated her part in what happened. Would she ever be able to forgive herself?

For the rest of the day, she couldn't focus on her work. It was impossible. Each time she tried, she just kept seeing Lyall's lifeless, bloody body over and over again. All the memory would do was remind her that she was at fault. Lyall would still be alive if she'd never opened the box with Fenrir's name on it. How many times would her relentless curiosity send her down a dark, dangerous path? What was going to happen next?

A few minutes past one in the afternoon, she couldn't stay there another second. Lying to Robert about not feeling well, Hermione stacked all of the parchment on her desk in one messy pile. She hoped that soon she would be in a better frame of mind where she could actually give the other cases she was working on her full attention. They were all lovely people who deserved to have her at her best.

The cold winter wind was blowing when she stepped outside. It felt sinister and wrong. Shouldn't the tall buildings be blocking most of it? Nothing about the Ministry or the city itself felt safe to her. Everything and everyone was a threat. Without knowing exactly who it was that wanted to hurt her, she was in constant danger. Somehow she doubted whoever left her the warnings would just give up.

Hermione didn't feel safe again until she pushed open the front door to Fenrir's house. How bizarre that she should be able to find such comfort in the house of the man she once feared most. Time really did change all things. She wasn't even able to take her cloak off properly before he exited his greenhouse. Seeming relieved to see her standing there whole, he crossed the room with just a few strides to pull her once more into his arms.

"I've been restless all day. I hated that you left."

"It's all right. I'm all right."

Her tone had more assuredness than she really felt. It was easier to pretend in the safety of his arms that she was confident. She started to tell him about the picture she found waiting for her on her desk, but stopped before she said a single word. Didn't he have enough worries? She didn't want to add to them.

"I think you should do what I wanted you to do this morning. Take a calming potion and a long nap."

There was no reason to argue with the determined man. It did sound like an excellent plan.

Absolutely nothing would entice Hermione to go back to the Ministry Thursday morning. When she awoke once again in the strong arms of her still rather surprising lover, she didn't want to even move. Perhaps a little heavy-handed with the calming potion he'd insisted she imbibe the afternoon before, she could still feel the faint after-effects. She couldn't even be annoyed a little bit that he'd given her too large a dose. It had been a marvelous sleep. Despite all of their strenuous activities in the prior several days, she'd still had trouble sleeping through an entire night since she was nearly killed by the damned Muggle in her own bed.

She didn't have a peace about returning to work. Even if it was faint and she continued to do all she could to push it down and ignore it, she knew she was no longer safe there. Maybe she never would be again. It was both a sobering and a depressing thought. Not since the war had she felt so unnerved. She wouldn't say she was frightened. No, she probably should've been, but the surety she felt that she was doing the right thing kept her from feeling that way. The slumbering werewolf at her back also didn't hurt. She felt more nervous than anything. Like she existed in a constant state of just being on the edge of something more, she was restless, anxious for whatever was going to happen to just hurry up and happen. Waiting was maddening.

Before she sat down to another breakfast kindly cooked by an attentive Fenrir, she sent an owl to Robert letting him know she still didn't feel well and would be staying home again. She didn't expect him to care. It was more likely that he'd feel relieved by her absence. She hoped they could eventually get past whatever it was that left their relationship so strained. There was a time in the not-so-distant past she considered him one of her best friends. It would be lovely to return to that some day.

"I'm glad you're going to stay here today. The thought of you going back to the Ministry makes me nervous."

"I can't hide forever though. At some point my life has to go back to normal."

"Not sure 'normal' will ever be the same for you again."

He certainly had a point. Normalcy was relative after all. Anything could be normal. It was simply what one became used to. She wasn't sure what she would do with her life if she couldn't return to her job, but she was quickly learning the hard way that there were more important parts of life than just her career. Life was too short and too dangerous to forget that.

After helping Fenrir clean up the kitchen at the end of breakfast, Hermione settled into his favorite armchair next to the fireplace with a heavy book. She wasn't exactly sure how she was going to spend her day, but reading something that wasn't about an evil Ministry program torturing and killing werewolves seemed like a good enough start. Fenrir covered her with a thick blanket he kept folded on the back of the sofa.

"If you get bored, you are always welcome to join me in the greenhouse. Today I have some sneezewort plants I need to repot."

Hermione laughed, knowing he was only teasing. His smile further proved he wasn't serious.

"Thank you, but as I've already passed my Herbology NEWT, I'm not interested in doing any further work in a greenhouse."

"What if we played 'The Stern Herbology Professor and the Naughty Schoolgirl' who has missed too many lessons and needs extra credit to make up for it?"

His smirk coupled with the waggle of his eyebrows made her laugh. She hoped she never got too used to his silly trait. It was a surprisingly delightful side to him that she never would've known existed. He leaned down to give her a short kiss.

"But, I'm afraid that would have to wait for later as it is. Too much on my list to do today."

"How did you manage to watch my house for so many weeks at night and work during the day?"

"Cat naps and lots and lots of caffeine. Having you in my bed safe in my properly warded house is a much more efficient and productive solution. Should've done it from the very start."

Fenrir exited the room with another cheeky wink. Alone again, she felt the pressing worry of what she needed to do next come crushing back. From the moment she was forced to hand over the files to Kingsley with the order she was not to be involved with 'Operation Moonlight' research any longer, she felt an unease. Kingsley was a good man who believed in fairness and doing what was right, but she couldn't deny that it bothered her he would push her out of what was essentially her project. All danger aside, if it hadn't been for her seeking out the answers, there was no way to know how many years it would have remained a secret. Maybe forever. She was thankful that she had the presence of mind to make copies. Without them she would be truly at a loss.

The story needed to get out. She'd seen too often how easily scandals could be hidden or ignored. This couldn't be another one. Not when so many lives were forever altered and ruined and even ended. How many children were killed or forced to become a werewolf simply because they made convenient bargaining chips for their parents? It was unconscionable. As long as no one knew 'Operation Moonlight' existed, there was a very real possibility that it could happen all over again.

Afraid she might talk herself out of going if she didn't leave as soon as possible, Hermione left Fenrir a note on the kitchen table that she was running an errand and would be back soon. She didn't want him to worry that she left, but she also didn't want to tell him the insane idea she had. Likely he wouldn't appreciate it.

Only a few minutes after hurrying out the front door of Fenrir's house before he could catch her, she found herself standing in front of the London office of the Daily Prophet. There was a churning in her stomach that made her fear she was about to make a serious mistake. The small voice in the back of her head that she was usually good at listening to kept insisting that she had to put aside her fears. She knew what to do. If there was one person who knew how to effectively announce a scandal, it was Rita Skeeter.

The young witch at the front desk almost turned her away until she repeated her name for a second time. With wide eyes, the receptionist understood that it wasn't every day that a celebrated war heroine stepped into their offices to request a meeting with their lead reporter. Assuring Hermione that it would be only a minute, she all but ran to the closed door of an office at the back of the building. There wasn't even time for her to take a seat in one of the chairs in the reception area before a bemused Rita entered.

"This is something of a surprise. I understand that you actually requested to speak to me personally?"

For the rest of Rita's life there was bound to be a skepticism and a coolness wherever Hermione was concerned. Not that the younger witch could really blame her. If she had been forced into an unbreakable jar for weeks at a time stuck in her beetle animagus form, she might have been a bit cross with the person responsible too. Of course the added blackmail hadn't helped matters either.

"Yes, I did. Is there somewhere we could speak privately?"

Curiosity was a journalist's best friend and worst enemy. She might have wished to slam the door in Hermione's face, but Rita was too interested to know what she had to say to be so rude. Neither witch spoke as Rita led her down a long corridor and into an empty conference room. When the door was shut, Hermione cast a basic silencing spell over the room. The reporter laughed, but seemed nervous.

"Should I be worried?"

"Not at all. I'm not here to hurt you, Rita. I actually have some need of your particular brand of expertise. Would it be possible for us to put aside our past differences long enough for me to ask you for some advice?"

Rita could smell a good story. Some of her wariness melted away with the prospect of an exclusive. She sat down at the table across from her guest. Unsure how much she could actually tell the nosy reporter, Hermione tried to make it as simple as possible.

"In my work at the Ministry I've uncovered an old Ministry program that is truly awful. I'm concerned that its existence might be swept under the rug and that's wrong."

"What sort of program? Sex and violence make the most salacious headlines."

"I don't know about the sex part. There might be. I haven't been able to read all of the evidence yet, but I know for a fact there is a disgusting amount of graphic violence. Some of it even involved children."

On any ordinary day, Hermione would've been revolted to see the almost giddy smile on Rita's horrible face. She was a depraved human being unafraid to get herself involved in the dregs of society. In the position she found herself in currently, however, she thought maybe Rita could make an acceptable, temporary ally.

"How can I make sure that the program isn't hidden any longer? How can I make sure that everyone knows about it?"

Before she said another word, Rita reached into the pocket of her robes to pull out a blank scroll and a self-inking quill. Tossing it across the table, Hermione didn't hesitate to grab the tools.

"Take notes. You'll want to review these. First of all, do you have the original evidence in your possession? And what are they exactly? Photographs? Documents? Logs?"

"Yes, I have the originals. It's a lot. I think there's some of everything."

"Good. The most important thing you can do is keep the originals safe. Make sure they remain in a safe place that only you have access to, or a trusted friend in case of your untimely demise, and make copies. Lots and lots of copies."

She scribbled down the advice as quickly as she could.

"You want as many people to have the evidence in their hands as possible. That can help keep you alive. Never forget that. Information that powerful people want can be more effective than any weapon or spell. If they think for a second that they can just kill you and it kills the story, most won't hesitate. Not if they're truly as nasty and powerful as I think they must be for you to seek me out."

So far she made good sense. It was counterintuitive to share the evidence. In all of the spy novels she'd read and movies she'd watched, the hero always tried to keep the top-secret evidence to themselves. Of course that usually made them a pretty attractive target to all of the baddies who wanted them dead. There was less incentive to kill the whistleblower if lots of people knew they existed. She might have to worry about retaliatory attacks, but those didn't scare her nearly as much as those who wanted to silence her. The anonymous messages she'd received already proved she was in danger whether she kept the secret or not.

"Use the evidence to write a thorough report with as many details as possible. Include the most gruesome and upsetting. You said there were children involved. Most of the people you're going to send this report to will be parents. Use that. After you have the thorough report written, write a short summary. No longer than a few inches or not everyone will read it. Make it as damning as possible. Make the summary so interesting they can't wait to read the report."

"Let me make sure I'm understanding you correctly. Make a copy of all of my evidence. Write a report and include a short summary."

"Yes. I cannot express to you enough that you make the damned thing interesting. Spare no disgusting detail. When you have it all, make as many parcels as possible with the evidence, report, and summary. You will need to mail it to every single esteemed member of the Wizengamot, the Minister for Magic himself, the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and the head of every single wizarding government you can. Don't forget to send at least half a dozen to the MACUSA. They've yet to meet an international scandal they don't want to push in on."

Rita's dramatic eyeroll threatened to actually make Hermione laugh.

"What about the newspapers?"

Her devious smile seconds later removed all desire she had to laugh. The witch could be positively frightening, but she felt certain she'd made the right decision to ask for her help.

"You're giving me an exclusive, dearie. I want it all. I'll make sure it gets out."

Though it was very bizarre to actually trust Rita, as odious as the woman was, she did know her stuff. Hermione didn't hesitate to agree. The first parcel she mailed out would be straight to her office.

The entire meeting in London took less than hour from Hermione pushing open the door to the Daily Prophet offices and then returning to Fenrir's warm, cozy house in Scotland. Even within that short period of time she felt a lifting of the weight on her shoulders. If she couldn't trust that Kingsley and the other Ministry officials wouldn't sweep the scandal of 'Operation Moonlight' under the rug, she knew that with her plan, the entire world would know about it.

Fenrir stood at one of his potting tables inside his greenhouse. Where she'd seen him be very careful and gentle with other plants before, he seemed almost angry at the poor plants he was working with. One look at the sour expression on his face told her that he didn't appreciate her running off without telling him face to face.

"I'm surprised you're back so soon. I expected it to be hours before I saw you again. Assuming, of course, that I ever saw you again."

Fear could make even the kindest person lash out in a false sort of anger. Hermione hated that he'd been worried about her. It wasn't right to run away with just a pitiful note as an excuse. She placed a hand on his forearm, hoping that a simple touch could help calm him down enough that he would stop being so upset. It seemed to help only just.

"I'm sorry. I should've told you I was leaving."

"Where did you go? Did you go back to the Ministry?"

"No, I didn't, but it doesn't matter. I was safe the entire time."

As much as she wanted to tell him her plan, she was scared. Whistleblowers weren't always treated kindly. He knew that better than most. If she told him what she was considering, he would probably convince her not to go through with it for her own safety. Likely he would even be right to do so. She didn't know what was going to happen next or if she would even be alive to see the end. But she knew that if she allowed herself to think that way, she would be too scared to do what was right and necessary for justice. Not just for Fenrir, but also for all of the ones who didn't survive.

She hopped onto the edge of the potting table. The change in elevation put her face almost even with his. It certainly made pulling him closer to her for an apologetic kiss much easier. He didn't even fight it, especially not when she wrapped her legs around his hips and he could see for himself how perfectly everything lined up with her on the table.

"Professor, I'm awfully sorry I missed so many lessons. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

Fenrir fought against his smile, but ultimately lost. She took the opportunity to guide his hand under her robes. Even as his practiced fingers pushed away the small strip of fabric that was hardly a barrier to the promised delights coming his way, he looked her straight in the eye with a serious expression.

"Do you expect to be able to seduce me every time there's an uncomfortable topic of conversation you want to avoid?"

"Yes."

It was more a gasp than it was an answer. His smile returned. How was it possible that he knew exactly where to touch her already? How could he know her body so thoroughly after just a few days?

"Don't expect that to last forever. I expect that will only work for a decade or two."

She whimpered when he removed his hand, disappointed that he was threatening to stop. Only when he pulled her knickers off in a swift tug and unbuttoned his trousers did she smile again. All it took was one snap of his hips to fill her completely. She threw her head back with a throaty moan. He would be the death of her.

"Now, Miss Granger, first, I'm going to make you come screaming. Then, we are going to discuss your appalling marks and everything those pretty lips of yours will need to do to make up for it. When we are finished, I doubt you'll ever want to miss another Herbology lesson again."