A/N: In which Tilia discovers a very important potion. Warning-there is one swear word in this chapter.

Chapter Fourteen and a Half: Wolfsbane

Tilia sat at wooden table in a low, cool, stone room. Her head rested on her arms. She had apparently fallen asleep at work. Sheaves of notes were scattered across the near half of the table, and she had ink on her hands. Something slightly sticky covered the far end of the table, dripping slowly down the back left leg. A cauldron was gently simmering to her right; it was smoking unpleasantly, rather like Wolfsbane. The thick smoke was vented out a long, thin slit near the ceiling.

Suddenly an alarm sounded—not the blaring alarm of a smoke detector, but the raucous buzz of an alarm clock.

Tilia groaned and unstuck her face from her arm, looking around blearily and sitting up straight. As she massaged a crick from her neck, her eyes fell on the potion and her whole expression lit with hope.

"It's stable," she whispered. And then she groaned. "Time to start the paperwork."

A month and a half later, the full moon set, and the sun rose. Tilia was sitting outside a holding cell at the Ministry of Magic, watching the transformation of a feral werewolf who had been caught two days before stealing scraps out behind the Three Broomsticks. The ragged man stretched painfully before sitting up on the stone floor and glaring at her.

"It did what you said it would. I remember last night. I didn't need to kill, but God knows, if I could have reached you, I would have. Stuff tastes like shit and doesn't get rid of the pain. And now I know how much it hurts, thanks so very much." His voice was a growl, and the last dripped sarcasm.

"I'll be sure to try to work in a pain-killer," she said with a sigh, knowing that there was no pleasing some people. For a beginning, not wanting to rip people to shreds should have been good enough, considering most people believed that to even suppress the wolf's mind, let alone cure the transformation, was impossible. But it was a start towards that cure and she could be content with that.

He snarled in response and turned away.

She scribbled a few more notes onto the parchment she held in her lap. It took a few moments for the impact of his words to sink in.

"I did it," she whispered. An incredulous smile curved her lips and she jumped to her feet. With a loud crack, she Apparated home.

"Remus, I did it! I did it!" she shouted, grinning hugely.

"Where's the fire?" he asked groggily, coming down the stairs.

She laughed. "I'm half-way there. I found a way to suppress the wolf's mind during the full moon."

Hope lit in Remus' eyes, as she explained all about it.

The next month, Remus sat up in the sunlight with a groan and a smile.

"Well?" she asked.

"It worked," he said. "I won't have to worry about hurting anyone again. Still hurts me worse than anything though. Not that it matters." He leaned over and kissed her soundly. "But you know what?"

"What?"

"It really does taste disgusting, you know."

She mock-glared at him, then sniffed disdainfully. "Go to sleep," she said, rather than dignify his remark, since she knew he was mostly teasing. Pulling her down beside him with a smile and another kiss, he was only too happy to oblige.