Hermione stepped out of her office Floo in the otherwise empty Tritonis Institute that Saturday, and immediately saw the press conference passes in a cubbyhole in her desk. Thank goodness. Ginny would kill her if she was late to this. Or worse, guilt her for weeks. She leaned back into the Floo. "Rupert, can you please tell Hope I found them? They're on my work desk. I'll leave from here."

"Certainly, Miss Hermione," he said.

The green Floo flames needed a few seconds to fade so she could set a new destination. She meant to just wait for it, but there was an unfamiliar folder on her desk labeled "Translation Department". Out of the top peaked a parchment with the date "12 April 1959" and the opening "Dear Fenrir". Even as she kicked herself for not leaving it until Monday, or at least after the press conference, Hermione opened it. The Greek original from Fenrir's Thief's Pouch covered most of it, so she moved that aside to read the English translation.

12 April 1959

Dear Fenrir,

My parents somehow found out about your bite. I don't know how. I hoped we'd be able to keep it secret until after our wedding. Now, they've cancelled everything. They said that the proud and illustrious Dragoumi family will not, under any circumstances, have a werewolf within it. If I insist on marrying you, I will no longer be their daughter.

I wish you had agreed to marry me right then in the chapel of the Hospital de Daciana. If the deed were already done and couldn't be undone, if I didn't have to defy them to do it, perhaps they would act differently. But I understand it was all too much at once.

If it were just my parents, I would let them drink the potion they had brewed. But how do I leave my brothers and sisters behind? My aunts and uncles and cousins you know I love so well?

I know I should tell you this in person, but I'm too much of a coward. I can't bear to look into your eyes as I break your heart. I am sending back your engagement ring. I will always love you, but I cannot marry you or see you again. I wish you all the best in life.

Please forgive me,

Clio

Hermione lowered herself into her desk chair. Fenrir Greyback was engaged to a Clio Dragoumi. And she left him because of his lycanthropy. Had he known which Clio he was going to at the Ashenhurst Theater? Or had he seen "Clio Dragoumi" on a handbill and thought it was the older Clio?

"Hey, Professor!" Hermione jumped, squealed, and whipped around to find Tonks's head floating in her Floo. "You're going to miss the portkey to the pitch."

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry!"

"Be sorry later! Grab your bag and let's go!"

Hermione grabbed the press conference passes and her bag, but hardly had time to stand before Tonks grabbed her ankle and pulled her into the Floo. After a dizzying moment, she landed with a hard 'thunk' on the floor of the Fallsbrook Inn.

"Ow," she complained as Tonks helped her up. "That wasn't very nice."

"Nicer than letting you miss this portkey. Ginny would absolutely kill you." Tonks pulled her over to a circle of wizards holding a rope and squeezed in between Teddy and Seph. "Besides, your date was getting worried about you."

"I expected you to be a little more dignified about it, Mrs. Lupin."

"You picked the wrong lady for that. And call me Tonks if we're going to hang out."

"Hi, Aunt Hermione!" Teddy said with an exuberant wave. "Lee-Lee had to stay with Grandma, but Mum said I could come."

"Where's your dad?" Hermione asked.

Teddy answered with the extreme earnestness of young children, "It's a full moon, so Dad's a wolf right now."

"Oh, I didn't even keep track."

"What were you doing that had you held up, anyway?" Tonks said. "You weren't working on a Saturday, were you?"

"Not working, exactly. I—" The jerk of the portkey cut Hermione off, and she had just enough time to get used to whirling through space before she slammed to a stop. Thankfully, their stop had been well-planned, and the group of wizards toppled onto a pile of conjured cushions—although it would have been less embarrassing if she had not toppled directly onto Seph.

"That was so cool!" Teddy squealed.

Tonks laughed. "Glad you had fun, kiddo. Now let your mum up." Teddy climbed off of her, allowing her to sit up so that she was no longer pinning Hermione's legs. Hermione scrambled off of Seph, who was polite enough to pretend the whole thing had not happened.

"You were working," Tonks said.

"The translation was right there on the desk, hot off the press. I had to take a peek." She turned to Seph. "You remember when we saw the Dragoumi sisters? Fenrir Greyback was engaged to another woman named Clio Dragoumi in the 1950s, and she broke it off when he was bitten."

"You're kidding," Seph said.

Hermione shook her head. "You see why I had to peek."

"I gotta back her on this one, Tonks," Seph said.

"But you didn't know it was going to be good before you peeked, did you?" Tonks asked.

"Well, no. I wonder if that Clio was related to Clio the violinist."

"Oh!" Seph said, putting out his hand. "I remember reading this in the memoir Euterpe wrote while Clio was missing. The oldest son in the family always names his daughters after the Greek muses. They usually don't get all nine, but the Dragoumi Sisters do have an aunt named Clio."

"Oh my gosh!" Hermione pushed her hair back from face. "I wonder if I can fit in a side trip to Greece when I go to the continent to meet with the Darkmores. Is three weeks too short of a notice, do you think?"

"Depends on the Dragoumis' touring schedule, I suppose. The Darkmores are Greyback's wife and son, right?" Seph asked. Hermione nodded. "Their last name surprises me. I assume they changed it because of Greyback's criminal record, but I would have thought it would cause problems with immigration."

"Maybe she never took Greyback's name to begin with," Tonks said.

"You mean just kept her maiden name when she married? Well, it was the '60s. I suppose it wasn't unheard of."

"I don't mean for social protest. She probably did the same thing I did."

"Are you still Tonks legally?" Hermione asked. She basically used 'Tonks' as a first name, but she was usually called "Mrs. Lupin" formally since their marriage.

Tonks nodded and said, "Teddy, tell Aunt Hermione your full name."

"It's Edward Sirius Tonks," Teddy said very seriously. "And Lee-Lee is Leanna Olivia Tonks. And Dad is Remus John Lupin, and Mum is—"

"Not going to go by her full name," Tonks interrupted. "Thanks, Teddy."

"Why don't you use Lupin?" Hermione asked.

"Remus insisted. He wouldn't sign the marriage license unless I kept my name. And that license was a huge pain to get; he's not allowed in that office at the Ministry."

"Why was that important to him?"

"Because it is a royal pain to share a name with a registered werewolf. People get lazy and weird when they check that stupid registry. Share a name with someone, and it can be harder to find a job, a house, or a flat; Gringotts can give you a different class of account…"

"That's discrimination!"

"Certainly is. I have to grant he was right. It is easier for the family that we can put things in my name."

"I suppose your husband has more trouble than most," Seph said.

"You'd know better than me, Mr. Blaine, but I think Remus has it better than most werewolves. He's got me—not to sound egotistical. But he has support, and his wife is an Auror, so he doesn't get nearly the crap he could. And I make decent money. You know, he'd worked freelance almost all his life because no one would hire him, and the one time someone did, the Ministry made it illegal."

"I know. It's hard to reassure my clients when Professor Lupin's case is so well known."

A woman's voice, magically amplified by the Sonorous Charm, interrupted with: "Excuse me, but we'll be starting in a few minutes, if you would all please take your seats."

Tonks took Teddy's hand, and the four of them made their way through the line checking passes and into the pitch press box. Hermione noticed several reporters, whose press badges identified them as the Daily Prophet's sports correspondent and staff writers for the two major Quidditch magazines. In the line of chairs set up on the pitch sat the county mayors of Holyhead and Fallsbrook, and a Ministry official from the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

Once everyone had settled into place, the Captain of the Harpies came out of the dug-out and took her place at the speaker's podium, smiling graciously as several cameras flashed.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she said. "I'm Colleen Walsh, and I'd like to thank you all for coming out here this evening. As you no doubt all know, there has been some controversy about whether our team will remain in Holyhead after this season. Apparently, the local government is dissatisfied with our current line-up."

"We've just asked that you come into the 21st century with the rest of us," Holyhead's mayor joked, triggering a smattering of chuckles.

Colleen smiled mischievously. "And we appreciate the suggestion, but as we said before, this is the one and only time that we will come in behind the Falmouth Falcons."

Holyhead's mayor blushed at the laughter that answered her.

"Nonetheless," Colleen continued, "we've seriously considered Holyhead's request that we hire a male player. The Harpies were founded as an outlet for talent that would never be seen otherwise. Today there are far more opportunities for women in Quidditch—although still nowhere close to the gender split that comes out of Hogwarts. Nonetheless, there is still suppressed talent out there, amazing players who are given no opportunity to compete because of what they are. With this in mind, we realized we could hold true to the Harpies' spirit while complying with Holyhead's demands, so I would like to introduce our first male player."

At her cue, the other Harpies emerged from the dug-out. A few chuckles started in the front row, and Hermione strained to see what triggered them. In the midst of the players was a large brown dog in a team robe with a hole cut for its tail. How cute! They got a male mascot!

Beside her, Seph stiffened and gripped the arm of his seat so tightly it seemed he would rip it off. "He's potioned," he muttered. "He's got to be potioned."

"What?" Hermione asked. Her eyes grew wide as she realized what she was seeing. The sharp curl in the short tail, that wasn't from spitz or husky blood, and the odd shape of the muzzle… That wasn't a dog. "Merlin's Beard…"

Beside her, Tonks burst into loud clapping. A few people joined more quietly, but they were drowned out by gasps as more and more people realized what they were looking at.

"Everyone, this is Gregor McClearen, and as you can clearly see, he is a werewolf," Colleen said as panic looked imminent. "Don't worry. He's taken Wolfsbane Potion and is completely rational."

"Greg?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"You didn't know either?" Seph asked.

Hermione shook her head. "He didn't say anything. I'm not sure his family even knows. This must be why he's been missing from Sniffers so much the last few weeks."

The mayor of Holyhead leapt to his feet. "This is completely unacceptable! Holyhead won't stand for this!"

"Well, Fallsbrook thinks it's great!" Fallsbrook's mayor said, slapping her knee before pushing herself to her feet. "I'd like to be the first to shake Mr. McClearen's hand—er, paw. May I?"

Greg trotted over, sat on his haunches, and held out a paw. Fallsbrook's mayor knelt to his level and shook it amid popping camera flashes.

"Wait a minute!" the Ministry sports official on the pitch interrupted. "I don't mean to spoil anyone's potion, but I'm not sure this is even allowed."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "And if it is, it won't be for long."

Seph jumped to his feet and cast Sonorous on himself, magically amplifying his voice. "Excuse me, but I'm Joseph Blaine from the Werewolf Support Services Office. I can tell you that it is allowed, and disallowing it would put us out of compliance with International Quidditch rules. England would no longer be eligible for the World Cup competition."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Blaine," Colleen said with a bright smile.

"Thank you for the clarification, Mr. Blaine," the Ministry official growled.

Seph cast the counterspell and lowered himself back to his seat. "I think I'm going to pay for that on Monday."

"I think you should be paid for it now." Hermione leaned over and kissed him, earning a blush and one of his sweet boyish smiles.

Below, the mayor of Holyhead was positively fuming, and the Ministry's sports official seemed to be calculating some way to get rid of Greg as Colleen went on with her speech. She talked about how he would take over for Melissa Bright when she went on maternity leave in a few weeks and stay on for the next season, and discussed at length the custom willow wood Firebolt 3 being made for him and the Comet 365 that the Comet company had generously donated in the meantime.

"I apologize that you can't see him use it tonight," Colleen said, "but our practice session Monday will be open to the press, and Greg has agreed to give an interview beforehand. For now, he won't be very talkative, but you're all welcome to come down and meet him if you'd like."

Judging by the mass movement for the doors, most of the crowd would not like to meet Greg, at least not in this form.

"Mum, Mum, can we go down and say 'hi'?" Teddy asked, bouncing in his seat as a handful of people trickled onto the pitch.

"If you want to," Tonks said, "but you have to calm down and meet him like you would any other grown-up. You can't bounce around or try to pet him like he's a dog. Remember, that's a person down there, even if he doesn't look like it."

"I'll remember. Does Dad look like that when he's a wolf?"

"A little, except his fur is a lot more grey, and his tail's straighter. It looks almost normal, except that it's about half as long as it should be."

"Do you think he'll ever let me see him like that?"

Tonks laughed. "Not before you're 30. C'mon, kiddo, let's head down."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to go downstairs too," Hermione said to Seph as Tonks took Teddy's hand and led him down the steep steps.

"No, I'm glad to."

They followed Tonks and Teddy onto the pitch. A line had already formed, but as soon as Greg saw Hermione, he barked and trotted over to her.

"Greg, congratulations!" she squealed as he stopped. Several people drew back from him, so he sat down. His curved tail kept wagging stiffly as though it had a mind of its own.

"You deserve some credit for bringing him to the Christmas game," Ginny said. "I never would have seen him play otherwise."

"I'll admit, when Ginny suggested letting him try out, I didn't think he'd fly," Colleen said, joining them. "I've seen lots of good pickup players who can't handle the speed and pressure of professional play. But Greg's definitely got it. He needs some training, but you just watch; this time next year, every team in the league will be kicking themselves for not signing him as soon as he came Of Age."

"That's really great, Greg!" Hermione said. "Does your family know?"

Greg tossed his head back and forth in the best approximation of shaking no that his lupine body could manage.

"We wanted to keep this completely mum until we announced it," Colleen said. "Not that we think they would have spilled it, but…"

"Sammie would." Hermione laughed. "She is absolutely going to die when she hears about this."

Greg tossed his head up and down, his lips spreading into the canine equivalent of a wide grin.

"I bet in the morning I'll hear her squeal from my house. It's a shame they couldn't be here to see it." Hermione glanced towards the dug-out, half expecting to see more lupine faces peering out.

"We wanted to bring them," Ginny said, "but that potion is expensive. We couldn't pull together four doses. Greg said his youngest sister would be jealous anyway if the others got to come, so it was all right."

"I'm sure they'll understand." A thought hit Hermione. "This might be presumptuous of me, but can I hug you in their place until they can do it themselves?"

Greg tossed his head up and down again and trotted toward her as she knelt to his level. She wrapped her arms around him, and he rested his elongated head on her shoulder, his fur warm and soft against the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Congratulations, Greg. I'm so proud of you."

A bright flash of light made them both jump before they realized it was a camera. Hermione squeaked and reflexively put her hand to her mouth, blushing. Greg, on the other hand, turned and stuck his tongue out at the reporter, which only triggered another flash. With a burst of laughter at the absurdity of it, Hermione put her arm around Greg. "Go ahead, take all you want."

As cameras flashed like a strobe light, Hermione leaned over to Greg. "I suppose you'll have to get used to it, huh?"

Greg bobbed his head noncommittally and gave a little lupine sigh.