Author's Note: There will be no update tomorrow, as I am entertaining real life, for a change.

Chapter seven on Saturday, then.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I hope you know how much I really do appreciate it. I think you all are excellent writers, by the way, have I mentioned that? I've been reading your fics. One of these days I'll have enough time to properly review them. I really will.

Enjoy!

Menolly

Chapter Six: Like Mother, Like Daughter

Lupin didn't wait until the next day to leave for the Granger residence. Hermione heard him rustling around in the kitchen, as she lay awake on the basement couch. She'd suspected he'd probably try something like that; leaving earlier than expected so that Hermione wouldn't have a chance to follow him. She rolled her eyes. His admirable nobility, she thought, was a waste of time.

Hermione drew on her black cloak, and buried her wand deep in one of the front pockets. Lupin's footsteps tapped across the floor just above her head, and she hastened up the stairs, determined to catch him before he disappeared.

She found him outside, drawing the broom out of the side of the house where he'd hidden it. Bracing herself, she cleared her throat, murmuring, "Professor?" Lupin turned on her, surprised, and opened his mouth to speak. Before he had a chance, Hermione held up one finger, shaking her head. "Please, don't," she insisted. "I'm coming with you. You already know that. Save yourself the trouble and don't argue about it, all right?"

Lupin blinked at her, a blank, bemused expression on his face. For a moment, Hermione was sure that he was going to get angry again, and she wished uselessly that the two of them hadn't fallen out the night before. She couldn't have picked a worse time to find herself out of his better graces, and she needed him to be willing to work with her, or the whole trip to her parents' place might be completely useless. She watched him, hopeful, beseeching, intent. He needed to understand. He just had to.

Lupin laughed, somewhat hoarsely. "Fine," he said. "I should have expected as much." He threw one leg over the broom, and perched himself on the front, waiting for Hermione to join him. Hermione didn't move, taken aback by the ease with which he accepted her coming along. "Well?" Lupin raised an eyebrow at her. "Either you're coming, or you're not. Shall we?"

Once Hermione had climbed on to the back of the broom, Lupin kicked off from the ground, one hand clutching the front of his broomstick, the other holding his wand over his head. "Abdos," he muttered, and the deceptive image of a forest clearing stretched itself over the house again, like a sheet unfolding itself. After a moment, Lupin's home was entirely hidden, and he stuck back beneath his robes. Then, straightening the broom so that it faced the direction from which they'd first arrived, he set them to soaring over the house, and past it, into the distance.

Hermione had never been particularly good with directions. She could follow them easily enough, and she caught on quickly, but she could never find a location by herself, the first time around. Had she had any idea where she and Lupin wee, she might have been able to work out how to get home, but as she didn't, she was completely at a loss. They rocketed over row upon row of houses, and many streets, some of which were filled with cars, but many of which were devoid of any Muggle vehicles.

Lupin reached back and grabbed Hermione's wrist with the hand he'd used to hold his wand. "Hold tight to me," he instructed her. "We're going to apparate in two jumps. First, to Diagon Alley, then, into your living room."

Hermione frowned. "That's not going to make my parents very happy," she said.

Lupin smiled thinly. "They'll live," he said, and Hermione chuckled under her breath.

She tightened her hold around Lupin's waist, and felt him shudder as she did so. He should have brought a warmer cloak, she decided. It was pretty frigid, this high up in the air. Hoping to provide him just a bit more warmth, she threw the edges of her own cloak over his arms, and moved closer to him on the broom. His back was rigid against her, remarkably tense for a man well used to flying like this.

Lupin didn't speak for a moment, and then, with a pop, Hermione found herself being drawn, with him, to a space just above the Hog's Head. A few people glanced up curiously as they erupted into existence, but lost interest quickly enough, and moved on.

"Why," asked Hermione, "are we doing this in segments? Do you think someone might be following us?"

Lupin shook his head. "No, I don't," he assured her, "but it never hurts to be careful, just in case. Ready for the next jump?"

Mrs. Granger screamed. Hermione, having just appeared in the Granger kitchen, leapt off the broom, and rushed towards her mother, her arms stretched out in front of her. "Mom, no! Shh, please! It's all right, it's me, Hermione!"

Mrs. Granger stopped screaming, but clapped one hand over her mouth, the other over her heart as she stared at her daughter, and at Lupin, who was looking a bit awkward hovering on a broomstick next to the stove.

"Hermione," she breathed, laughing, "you scared me half to death…I've asked you not to…not to appear like that when you're in the house. Your father and I simply can't get used to it, and it isn't fair to ask us to."
"Sorry, mum," said Hermione. "But it's really important, I had to-!"

Mrs. Granger shook her head firmly. "It's just as easy to do that outside the house, and walk in the front door. I bet your friends don't appear in their mothers' kitchens like that, even if their parents are more accustomed to it than we are. And who's this?" She turned her attention to Lupin. "I don't believe we've met."

"This is Professor Lupin," sighed Hermione, stalking impatiently towards the door that led to the dining room. "You remember, I've mentioned him before. Where's dad?"

"Oh, of course I remember." Mrs. Granger smiled. "You taught Hermione in her third year at Hogwarts, didn't you? She speaks more highly of you than of any other Professor she's ever had, I can't imagine why you left. Hermione says it was a terrible loss to the school when you did, but I won't presume…well." She gave the broomstick a dubious look. "Would you like to, um, get down from there and come in? Hermione can make some tea; I didn't know I should be expecting visitors."

"Thank you," murmured Lupin, slipping off the broom and laying it against one of the walls. "You're very kind."

Hermione let out an exasperated breath. Had he forgotten that they were on an urgent mission, here? "Mom," she started again, so quickly that her mother didn't' have a chance to interrupt, "this is really, really crucial, okay? I need to know if anyone's been in to see you or dad in the last couple of days. Anyone at all."

"Been in to see us?" echoed Mrs. Granger, in some perplexity. "Well, yes. We aren't recluses, you know. Mrs. Perry came by a few days ago, and Mr. Carruthers. Ms. Claire and her baby son, too. You would have loved to see them, and they would have loved to see you…I talk about you all the time, but you're so often away that it's almost as if you've dropped off the face of the-!"

"Anybody you don't know?" pressed Hermione, doggedly. "Anyone unusual? Did anyone deliver a pizza, or drop off the mail? Any unexpected door-to-door salesmen?"

"No, Hermione, honestly.:" Mrs. Granger shook her head. "We haven't seen anyone but our friends and neighbors in at least a week. Why? What on earth is going on?"

Hermione wasn't sure whether or not to be relived, or suspicious that no one had come to call on her family, not even, apparently any of the members of the Order. She opened her mouth to answer her mother's question, but Lupin got there long before she did.
"There's nothing wrong," he insisted. "We just wanted to check up on you and make sure that everything was all right. Hermione was getting worried, she's an excitable person."

I am not, thought Hermione in some irritation, an excitable person. She couldn't understand why Lupin was acting as if there wasn't anything to be worried about. He knew as well as she did that there were people lurking around the house, so why wasn't he going to tell her mother about it? Did he really think that it was better, safer for her not to know? That made absolutely no sense. The best defense, Hermione knew, was preparation.

Mrs. Granger was laughing. "I know she is," she began, beaming at Lupin, "and caring, too, desperately kind. Why, she worries about everyone, doesn't she. Takes care of them, too. I daresay she got that from her father, he's the most gentle man I've ever known, simply the most thoughtful person. But," and she turned to Hermione, still smiling, "you don't have to worry about us, love, there's really nothing at all to be afraid of."

Hermione met her mother's eyes, and held them for a long moment. Mrs. Granger's smile wilted slightly, and she looked quickly from Hermione to Lupin, biting her lip in the same way that Hermione did when she was confused about something. "There is something," she said, nodding slowly. "Well, I can see that in your eyes." Abruptly, the garrulous, beaming Mrs. Granger's face set into a mask of concentrated understanding. "Well then," she said, "best have the worst of it right out. Go on, let's hear it. I won't be left standing here in the dark."

Lupin looked a bit put-off, but Hermione felt proud of her mother for seeing through the empty reassurances. "Look, mum," she started, "it's kind of a very long story."

It really was a long story. Hermione started by explaining to her mother all about the Death Eaters, and her deep friendship with Harry Potter, the boy who lived. She spoke about the Order of the Phoenix, the second wizarding war, and Lupin's place in relation to all of it. She almost mentioned the attack that she'd undergone in Diagon Alley, but decided to leave that part out, since she was sure that her mother would be more rational if she didn't have to deal with the knowledge that someone had tried to murder her only daughter.

Mrs. Granger listened very patiently to all of it, nodding encouragingly whenever Hermione broke off to catch her breath. When Hermione had finished, Mrs. Granger looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. "So," she said, finally, "you're telling me that there's someone out there, trying to get at you by attacking us?"

"There might be," murmured Lupin, who had not spoken throughout all of Hermione's explanation. He sounded like he was providing the information somewhat reluctantly. "We're not entirely sure, but we have reason to believe that there might be someone trying to get in to this house."

"That's why," continued Hermione, "we've set members of the Order to watch over you, so that you don't come to any harm. Still, that's not going to be sufficient, I don't think. You and dad have to come with Professor Lupin and I, somewhere that the Death Eaters won't know how to find you. It's the only thing that I can think of at the moment."

Lupin made a noise of surprised protest, but it was Mrs. Granger who spoke. "Absolutely not, Hermione," she said, planting one hand on her hip. "We will do nothing of the sort. Having more people in your hiding place will no doubt put those…those Death Eaters on the trail of the Order much faster than they would without your father and my help. That doesn't' sound like a very good idea, s they're the only ones who seem capable of fighting this monster you've told me about. I wont' have the people protecting you in danger, Hermione, and you knew that before you even came here to tell me all of this."

"But mum-!" Hermione started towards her mother, her hands outstretched in a useless, beseeching gesture. Mrs. Granger shook her head.
"Would you make the Professor and I some tea, Hermione? There's a good girl."