A/N: Yeah, so when I said I hoped I'd post quicker that clearly didn't pan out... Sorry! I'm still working on it though! :) Thank you as always for your kind reviews, it really encourages me to know someone's stuck with me!

A Subtle Change

Chapter 35

Pansy looked around in confusion as the Great Hall fell silent upon her entry. A few weeks ago she'd have said something to them, told them she knew she looked good but it'd be nice if they could be a little more discreet in their admiration...or something like that. A few weeks ago though she wouldn't have been walking into breakfast alone, someone would have been at her side to laugh at what she said. Draco would have been there to tell the rest of the hall to keep their eyes to themselves. Or at least to imply it with a look, as it seemed unlikely he'd ever have actually said that. Now however she was very conscious of being alone and walked quickly to the Slytherin table, slipping gratefully into an empty spot. As she took in the breakfast table though she saw that even most of her own house were looking at her with an odd mix of pity and suspicion, and even an element of uncertainty.

Up at the head table even some of the teachers were staring. Pansy was about to snap when a second year boy across the table nudged the Daily Prophet, delivered every day to her but rarely read, towards her.

Pansy picked up the paper and read the headline and opening paragraphs. The trial had ended sooner than expected. The trial she'd been desperately trying not to follow. It seemed her father's money had been unable to save her parents this time. Or perhaps they had been unwilling to toss aside what remained of the modest family fortune, and leave their daughter destitute, in fighting a hopeless battle. They had both been sentenced to Azkaban for life. It shouldn't be a surprise in the circumstances.

For a moment it didn't seem to sink in. For all she'd yelled the bald facts at Draco loudly enough only a week ago, some part of her had never really believed this was where things were going. Surely this couldn't be how things were supposed to end. They'd told her things were going to get better, that they would finally cement their place in the upper echelons of the Wizarding World. Now they were in Azkaban and she...where the hell was she?

Anger coursed through her as she refolded her paper and held it up by a corner, not wishing to further contaminate her fingers with newsprint.

As a child one her earliest signs of magical ability had been a disconcerting (well disconcerting from her parents' point of view) propensity for arson when she hadn't got her way. It had been a very, very, long time since Pansy had lost control, and certainly she'd never tried to do it on purpose. Now though, staring at the Prophet with all the hate and rage she felt she'd ever known in her life, the paper began to smoke and slowly flames began to coil around the filthy rag.

She continued to stare as the fire licked ever closer to her trembling fingertips, before pushing the whole thing into a jug of water to avoid being burnt. She then calmly poured herself a cup of tea. Slowly the staring students began to talk again, quietly at first but soon the hall was up to its usual level of noise and life.

XXXXXXX

Severus Snape watched his student intently from his seat at McGonagall's side. He was less troubled by the magical outburst (Pansy was far from the only student to have had one recently, teenage emotions tapping in to still unrefined powers) than he was by the way she sipped at a cup of tea but she didn't touch the food. Too many of his students were barely eating and he couldn't help. Pansy's hands were still shaking and Draco Malfoy was refusing to look at her, but then she was also refusing to look at him. The two were sat at opposite ends of the table, both looking miserable and both unusually interested in their morning's beverage so as to avoid meeting anyone's eyes, particularly each others. At the end of the meal Severus moved to speak to Pansy, but she clearly saw him coming and beat a hasty retreat in the direction of her first lesson. He sighed. Let her have her way, he had more than enough trouble with the blond boy currently glaring at him from across the hall as the rest of the students filtered out.

"Draco..." he tried, not for the first time in recent days.

The glare turned to a snort. "I'm late for Charms."

Severus could feel his face harden and had bitten out, before he could stop himself, "Then I suggest you get moving, Mr Malfoy."

The boy had the temerity to look wounded as he flounced out. Severus had to hold back the urge to throw something.

"Give him time." A quiet voice at his elbow advised him.

Severus released a snort of his own. "Time heals all wounds does it?"

"No." Minerva sounded like she was having to make an effort to be calm herself. "It just helps people to forget about them, and quite frankly Draco Malfoy's far too indolent to expend the kind of energy required to maintain this level of hostility for too long."

"Have you not seen him around Potter?"

"That's different. Harry responds and feeds the whole situation, and besides even Harry's not provoked the kind of hate he's currently looking at you with."

Severus raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Was that intended to be reassuring?"

She shook her head in annoyance. "I was simply pointing out that your comparison was flawed. You and Harry have very little in common, even from Draco's...interesting point of view."

"That would be the point of view where he's decided that I'm worse than Harry Potter, the boy he's spent more than 5 years loathing the very existence of?"

Minerva sighed angrily. "Severus, would you stop twisting things! I am trying to help."

He shook his head firmly. "You are not helping."

Another wounded look, though much better disguised, from someone he had no real desire to hurt but still found himself wanting to throw things at. Perhaps, he considered as he stalked away, the common denominator here was him.

XXXXXXX

Excited voices reached Remus from down the corridor as he approached Druscilla's office. She and Percy sounded like they were busy planning something. Percy was reeling off names, some of which Dru responded to with enthusiastic affirmations, while others prompted a decidedly more dubious reply.

"Zara Winterson?"

"Definitely."

"Fergus Gardner?"

From the doorway Remus watched Dru waggle her hand for a moment, screwing up her face in thought, and eventually settle on. "Stick him on the list."

"What about Araminta Vablatsky?"

Druscilla looked doubtful. "Hmm, I once nearly killed her cat...stick her on the 'maybes'."

Percy looked at her over the top of his glasses. "In what world is someone whose cat you tried to kill a 'maybe'?"

"I wasn't trying!"

Feeling awkward, Remus cleared his throat softly. "Sorry. Bad time?"

"It's the Ministry, there's rarely a good time." Druscilla's response upon noticing him wasn't promising.

"Hello Remus." At least Percy looked pleased to see him. "Perfect timing actually, I have to meet someone for lunch in ten minutes so we were about to break anyway."

"We were?" Druscilla looked slightly taken aback.

"I told you I had lunch plans." Percy insisted.

She sighed. "You getting a life suddenly isn't that helpful to me, you know." She chuckled at him, "Go on, get out, have fun!" She wiggled her eyebrows in a way that confused Remus and caused Percy to blush and frown and almost run past him out of the door.

Remus decided not to question it, focussing instead on not getting chased off himself. "I was hoping you might be free for lunch?"

She wasn't exactly enthusiastic. "Well I appear to be. Given that my assistant has buggered off."

Remus frowned. "I thought you hired him as a department head, not your assistant?"

Druscilla looked unusually awkward. "Yeah, well, he's still quite inexperienced, nothing wrong with a bit of hand-holding. Anyway, I am his boss, hence he 'assists' me. He doesn't mind."

Remus felt suddenly sure that Percy would mind very much. His ambition didn't seem to have been tempered in his time away from his family from what Remus had seen.

Dru though was soon back to looking energised, eyes sparkling with excitement and fun. The momentary awkwardness never stood a chance. "I'll remember him when I win," she grinned.

"When you win?"

She rolled her eyes. "Did you possibly miss yesterday's announcement?"

He pretended to have to think for a moment, before smiling. "Ahh, Fudge's retirement."

"Yup, I've got one month and I need to firm up my nominees." She frowned, "Preferably without having to resort to people whose cats I may or may not have harmed."

Remus narrowed his eyes. "You definitely harmed the cat, didn't you?"

"It really wasn't intentional, damn thing got underfoot at the wrong moment and I was in some, almost literally, killer heels."

Remus was pretty sure his horror must have been evident on his face, he rather liked cats.

"Oh, it was fine! Fluffy was barely scratched, I on the other hand broke my ankle trying not to put my stiletto through the damned thing's neck! Same ankle that went during the fight actually and I am definitely blaming that cat!"

"I thought broken bones became stronger after they'd healed?"

Druscilla looked sulky and slightly uncertain, it seemed he may have found a topic she was not well versed in. "I feel like we're straying from the point," she said quickly.

He couldn't repress a smile at her expense and she balled up a piece of parchment and threw it at him, playful and fun as she hadn't been around him in a little while. Taking advantage of her mood, he risked a question. "So how does it work? How does someone go about becoming Minister for Magic?"

She looked a little gobsmacked. "How do you not know that?"

"I've never taken too much interest in politics. I know the Minister is chosen by the Wizengamot, but I'm not sure what you have to do to put yourself forward for consideration."

Druscilla sighed impatiently. "Anyone interested in standing has to declare within one lunar month of the announcement of the Minister's intention to step down, or the announcement of their death or removal from office. To declare you must pass a certain level of nominations from within the Ministry's senior staff, that's department heads and above. However it's not just about passing the threshold, it's also about how much you pass it by. In the case of there being more than seven candidates..."

Remus snorted in disbelief.

"It's happened. Frequently enough that we have a rule for it. If there are more than seven then those with the lowest level of nominations are automatically eliminated leaving only the top seven candidates. These candidates are each in turn questioned publicly by the full Wizengamot, who will make the decision of who should be appointed. In reality they are usually at least somewhat swayed by things like how much support the candidates have within the Ministry, and within the wider Wizarding community. Sometimes even what support they can claim to have from other world Wizarding leaders can be significant."

"And that's it?"

"Yes, that's it, Remus. You just have to get a significant number of your colleagues (though technically you don't have to be a Ministry employee to stand, it's just that in reality these days they always are) to support you publicly, and then be willing to put yourself in line to be grilled by press and Wizengamot alike for as long as they decide. You get to watch your life and choices be picked over by people who are literally looking for reasons not to give you the job. Oh, and if you're a woman you get to do it knowing that statistically if you're standing against a man you're going to lose."

Remus made a dubious noise. "That can't always have been the case, we have had a number of female Ministers for Magic."

"Yes, Remus, that's why I said 'statistically'. More often than not when faced with a selection of male and female candidates the Wizengamot have opted for a man. Obviously not every time, and I'd like to think that we're at a point where my gender shouldn't be playing a major part in anyone's thinking. The point is, when you say 'that's it?' you make it sound like a piece of cauldron cake. Would you like to be publicly cross-examined?"

"Well, no." He couldn't think of anything worse and had expected it to happen to him on any number of occasions, but she probably wouldn't have realised that. "I'm sorry, I wasn't..."

"Oh forget it," she silenced him with dismissive hand wave. "I'm not looking for sympathy. I got into this knowing exactly what I'd be facing and quite obviously I long ago decided it would be worth it. Who knows, it might even be fun. You know me, I do enjoy a bit of attention." Her playful mood it seemed wasn't about to be dispelled by what she clearly saw as stupid questions.

Remus should have realised that his admission of political ignorance wouldn't have won him any brownie points. "So, lunch then?"

He felt as much as saw her eyes travel slowly and lazily up and down him. "You sure you're hungry?" she smirked.

XXXXXXX

"I brought lunch." Percy strode straight into Oliver's kitchen from the floo and started unpacking food.

The deli selection looked and smelt wonderful, but a small, cynical voice in Oliver's mind wondered if Percy had brought something with him to avoid Oliver suggesting they go out.

The problem with dating somebody as clever as Percy Weasley had turned out to be he was always two steps ahead. Whilst that was charming in everyday life, in a relationship it was rather less so.

In private everything was wonderful. Percy, even struggling with his own grief, was attentive and considerate. If anything he didn't seem to pay enough attention to himself, not emotionally anyway.

In public though... Well that was a different story. Percy wouldn't so much as share a meal with him. Oliver had lost count of the number of meals they'd eaten in his flat. The worst of it was Percy wasn't even keen to admit there was a problem. Instead he came up with a series of evasions like this one, bringing food with him, claiming he didn't have enough time to go out, pointing to the poor weather as a reason to stay indoors... Oliver had lost track of the excuses.

Oliver wasn't however entirely happy with his own behaviour. There was perhaps every chance Percy might have talked to him if Oliver had been able to find a sensitive way to broach the subject. The problem was every time he tried to think what to say he felt increasingly guilty for wanting to say it. Percy wasn't short of problems at present.

Oliver had found himself watching two young men chatting with Charlie at Bill's funeral. They'd clearly been a couple and Oliver hadn't been able to stop himself hoping Percy had noticed that no one was treating them any differently to anyone else. That in particular Charlie was pretty friendly with them and it seemed likely Bill had been too. Guilt had come crashing over him as soon as he'd thought it and hadn't really gone away since. It was Bill's funeral. Percy's brother was dead and all he'd been thinking about was how to persuade him to go public with their relationship.

Guilt should, surely, Oliver thought, make us kinder to the person we felt we'd wronged. He'd found in the past though that often all guilt did was bubble in to resentment. As though his brain was trying to exonerate him by continually circling back to reasons that the other person was to blame.

The problem was he knew Percy well enough to see the very real risk that, without strong reason to change his routine, this would become the new normal for him. Percy was a creature of habit, he found a furrow he was comfortable in and then ploughed along it come what may.

Oliver only realised he must have been staring when Percy cleared his throat meaningfully. "You're very quiet today."

He forced a smile. "Sorry, Perce, I was just thinking."

Percy raised his eyebrows, expression instantly wary and that simply spurred Oliver on in annoyance. "Look, we both deserve a break after everything..." 'Everything' didn't even begin to cover it, but Percy's expression said he understood. "Let's go somewhere nice. Let me buy you dinner somewhere fancy."

"Oliver," Percy's voice sounded harsher than he was used to, "You know I..."

"Somewhere muggle," Oliver interrupted, trying to save the plan he suddenly realised he really did like the sound of. "We'll go somewhere nobody's ever even heard of the wizarding world, leave it all behind, just for a night. Let's just pretend that it's just you and me, and not a world's worth of shit that no one knows how to properly deal with."

"Ol..." He was tempted, Oliver could see it, knew that wistful look in Percy's eyes well. Unfortunately Percy had always been rather good at resisting temptation. "I can't. It wouldn't be a good idea, it's impossible to be sure there wouldn't be someone there who could recognise one of us and get the wrong idea."

"The wrong idea?!" Those three words twisted unpleasantly in Oliver's chest.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Hearing them back, Percy at least seemed less fond of them himself.

"Then what did you mean?" Oliver pressed, more annoyed than ever and more than a little hurt.

"Just...It was a poor choice of words, I'm sorry. I only meant that two people having a fancy meal doesn't really scream two old friends does it? It's a bit...romantic."

"Yeah, that was the point."

Percy looked awkward. "I realise that. I'm sorry."

Lunch had been pretty much unsalvageable from that point. In the end Percy had mumbled something about a heavy workload and hurried off.

Alone again, Oliver let his head sink into his hands. His anger had died down, leaving him feeling guiltier than ever. Not his most diplomatic effort. All he really wanted, he'd realised rather too late into the discussion, was to spend some quality time with his boyfriend. It had only occurred to him once Percy had walked out that if he hadn't brought the whole thing up they'd probably have been doing just that.

XXXXXXX

As though on cue, Percy opened the door to Druscilla's office just as she was half way though saying, "He won't be back for ages yet."

Remus, extremely grateful Percy hadn't at least been any earlier, was nonetheless mortified to realise his cardigan was draped over a nearby filing cabinet and he had no idea where his tie was.

Percy took the scene in, his boss lolling in her desk chair, hair a bit rumpled and high heels on the floor, and Remus stood close beside her, red faced and guilty looking. And tie-less. The young Weasley flushed a shade of red that looked more cross than embarrassed, and appeared distinctly unimpressed as he fished Remus' tie out of the messy pile that his once neatly stacked parchment had been hastily rearranged in to. Remus had intended to put them back into some semblance of order, but Druscilla had distracted him.

Percy held out the offending article of clothing. "I think this is yours?" He no longer looked pleased to see Remus.

Druscilla though looked gleeful, laughing like it was the best joke she'd heard all year.

"Thank you." Remus took his tie with an apologetic smile that the young Weasley did not return.

Feeling more awkward by the moment, and seeing no support from Dru who looked like she was suppressing giggles, Remus bid a hasty farewell and slunk out of the door.

It was hard to fault Percy's annoyance. Their behaviour had hardly been what anyone would term appropriate for a Ministry office, certainly not the prim young redhead. Also in retrospect Remus was very aware that he and Dru had once again spent time together without properly talking about anything. It was becoming a trend.

He sighed as he waited for the lift. He could feel Dru slipping away, almost unconsciously extricating herself from their not-quite relationship before it had really started.

Druscilla was brilliant, funny, undeniably sexy, and tremendous fun to be around. Life with Dru would never be dull, would never be lonely, and for all her workaholism (surely only likely to get worse now with the Ministry within her grasp) she never seemed too busy to make time for the things she loved.

Remus was not delusional enough to think she loved him. He had however been utterly captivated by her. Not simply because of her brilliance, sense of fun, or myriad other attractions, but because she accepted him for who he was. She fought with him like an equal and made him feel for the first time since his schooldays like there as someone who genuinely wanted to know all of him. Lyncathropy included. The part no one else liked to get close to, even in conversation, seemed to hold quite the fascination for Druscilla. Only now he was left worrying that fascination was all it was.

Remus knew though that, even had he been the kind of person to push, pushing Dru to stay, or to make a clear decision, would only drive her away. She was fiercely independent to the point of being extremely wary of commitment. She needed time and space to decide this one for herself, push her and he'd lose her for sure.

Years of enforced (Dru would probably argue self-enforced) isolation had rendered him pretty independent himself, but Remus had never really relished it the way she clearly did. Part of him longed for someone to talk to at the end of the day. The vicious irony of lycanthropy, wolves were naturally social animals and something of that instinct seemed to have been present in every fellow sufferer he'd ever met, but there were few people who found werewolves desirable company.

Stepping into the lift, Remus forced a polite smile for his fellow passengers and pretended not to notice as one of them appeared to realise who (or rather what) he was and moved further away.

XXXXXXX

After half an hour of disapproving looks, Druscilla decided it was time to say something. "Can't say it particularly troubles me but, out of interest, are you done judging me, Percy?"

"I don't know what you mean." The young man responded stiffly, instantly returning his attention to his parchment.

"Mmmhmm. Of course you don't."

"If you don't know how to behave professionally it's no skin off my nose."

There was a rising temptation within her to punch said nose, that he was looking down at her. She rallied and plastered on a patronising smile. "Right. And you're being professional right now are you?" She sighed, realising how quickly this could escalate into a row she didn't have time for. "Take yourself and your opinions back to your office, please. I'll finish this alone, it'll be simpler that way."

Percy had the temerity to look wounded and Druscilla bit down on her instinct to shout. His judgement didn't trouble her, but that didn't mean she enjoyed it. Somewhere at the back of her busy mind was the thought that he was likely unhappy about something else entirely, but today wasn't a good day for worrying about any of that.

"Office. Now." She repeated. "I employ you to work, not stand around." It was a low and unfair comment, Percy quite possibly worked harder than anyone else in the Ministry most days, but she wasn't feeling fair. Besides, things really were easier to complete alone, she'd go back to dealing with whatever his crisis was when it was more convenient. Right now, she had a campaign to kick off. Everything else was going to have to take a back-seat.

XXXXXXX

It was like being half-asleep, Pansy decided, not quite sure if your fears were real or if you'd would soon wake up in your own bed with its ancient green drapes. No, she thought decisively, if she were able to wake up then it would be in her own bed not in some school dormitory. It would be to summer sunshine streaming in through her ivory curtains and the soft silk of her pillowcase at home, so much better for her hair than the school's rough cotton ones.

Pansy wasn't going to wake up though. There was nothing left to wake up to.

All day she had wandered blindly through corridors, in and out of lessons, as though in a dream. People had stared, teachers had tried to think of things to say, and Pansy had ignored them all. It had been more than twenty four hours since she'd eaten now but food held no appeal so she sat at the dinner table, silently sipping at her pumpkin juice and wishing that it were something stronger. Wishing also that someone, anyone, would tell her everything was going to be all right and that they would take care of it all for her. Over the next few days she would slowly come to the realisation that that wasn't going to happen. What few relatives she had were willing to help only so far as putting a roof over her head until she turned seventeen, something they would soon make abundantly clear. It seemed that for anything else she was on her own. The stigma of the dark mark had burnt far deeper than merely into her parents' skin. That realisation though was yet to fully dawn and, instead of the wave of fear and isolation that awaited her, Pansy felt, not unpleasantly, adrift.

Instinct had her avoiding her head of house. He would want to talk about things she had no desire to think about, such as her future. Some distant, detached part of her even thought that he looked a little adrift himself. A surge of emotion broke though at that thought, a wave of malicious pleasure. Call it karma, sir, you've made everyone else miserable often enough, hope you enjoy a taste of it yourself.

With a sneer she abandoned her pumpkin juice and empty plate and swept away as Professor Snape sought once again to catch her attention from the head table. On reflection though she wasn't even sure it was her he'd been focussed on, it seemed much more likely it would have been Draco. Either way, he was wasting his time.

XXXXXXX

Grimmauld Place was a large house to be left alone in. Remus couldn't help but think now that he'd never been sympathetic enough to Sirius being trapped there. With the Weasleys gone, and the Order all but disbanded, the house felt deserted and grimmer than ever.

Unlike the rest of the Order however, Remus had nowhere else to go. No cosy Burrow, no teacher's study, no sleek city apartment. Bitterness wasn't Remus' natural state though and, following another confusing encounter with the owner of the aforementioned sleek city apartment, he'd settled quietly to a little digging through his modest possessions and was now sat on the floor by the bedroom fireplace, grateful that at least he had a fire.

Parchment was spread out all around him. He lifted a letter and read it with a smile. He vividly remembered receiving that first owl from a then unknown woman at the Ministry.

Dear Mr Lupin,

I hope you don't mind me writing to you, but I've been doing some work trying to re-examine the Ministry's legislation on lycanthropy and Arthur Weasley suggested you might be a useful contact. If you're interested I can send you more information or perhaps you'd like to pop into my office for a coffee and I can go over things in person?

Yours faithfully,

Druscilla Thornfield

Remus snorted a little and refolded the parchment. Typical Dru from start to finish, an odd mix of formal and casual and an instant assumption that of course he'd want to help her. He had as it happened. Or at least he'd been curious enough to want to hear more, though at that point he'd shied away from meeting her, preferring to maintain their correspondence via owl. The sight of the Ministry seal and that coldly formal opening 'Dear Mr Lupin' had set him on high alert. The Ministry had never gone out of their way to make him feel comfortable. Their treatment of him, and others like him, had by that time formed a weary cynicism that had made it hard to believe this letter, this unknown woman, would be any different. Even if she did come with Arthur's name attached.

It wasn't even clear from the initial letter if she knew he was a werewolf or merely thought he was someone with some expertise in lycanthropy, or interest in campaigning, that had caused Arthur to mention him to her. His reply had been cautious, reserved, seeking rather than offering information.

Once he'd expressed an interest though the floodgates had opened and Remus had been hit with a barrage of owls explaining current legislation issues (most of which he knew intimately) and rough outlines of her own proposals to change things. These were accompanied by a litany of often quite personal questions (it was clear that after all she knew exactly what he was) which he mostly left unanswered at this stage. What came through most clearly though, beyond her almost prurient information seeking, was an intelligent passion and determination, a woman driven beyond anyone he'd ever known. As their correspondence continued he began to realise just how much else she was working on, how many plates she seemed to be almost effortlessly juggling. Once he'd met her he'd realised there was nothing effortless about it, she worked bloody hard and had apparently made persistence an art form.

Curiosity had got the better of Remus not long after that first letter and he'd found himself scanning the Prophet's politics reports for a mention of Druscilla Thornfield, and found plenty. He'd learned that she wasn't much older than him - she'd attended Hogwarts at the same time he was there, though he couldn't remember her. He also learned that she and the Minister were constantly on the outs with each other (that certainly hadn't hurt his opinion of her) and that there were rumours that she was chasing Fudge's job. Mostly he learned that she was vastly more outspoken that he expected politicians to be. She seemed to have an opinion on everything and no qualms about expressing it.

He'd enjoyed their pen-pal type arrangement and, though he'd been curious enough to seek out more information about her, he was perfectly happy to let it rest there. There had been something safe about always evading her invitations to meet, in reading about her in the papers rather than going to see the woman for himself. He hadn't always been sure from the tone of her letters what exactly he could expect if he did. She was clearly interested in his opinions and experiences and her tone was always just on the right side of respectful, even when asking prurient questions. However she could also be blunt, even dismissive, and with a twist of humour that though mostly good natured wasn't always terribly appropriate. All things that would turn out to be, if anything, even more apparent in person.

Druscilla had piqued his curiosity over the course of their correspondence but she'd never managed to make him put aside his initial wariness. As a result, when Dumbledore had announced he wanted Remus to take the opportunity to go and meet with her and sound her out for the Order Remus had not been best pleased. He was afraid, not only of ending a pleasant enough epistolary friendship that had given him something else to think about just when he had needed it most, but of potentially losing her interest and influence in support of lycanthropy altogether.

Once he'd met her he'd quickly realised that her support for the cause would never be on the line. She wanted his help, but she'd perfectly happily do it without him. Her campaign wasn't predicated on how she felt about him individually.

What did feel very much on the line now though was the friendship he'd valued evermore as he'd got to know her. The friendship he'd hoped might be taking a more intimate turn.

Remus put the letter down, realising he'd been hanging on to it like he wanted to hang on to its writer. He was moping now. He knew he was. He just wasn't quite sure how to stop.

Years ago he would have let Sirius drag him out to the pub and cheer him up. Even longer ago he'd have let James and Lily convince him he was in no sense a third wheel for an evening out. Longest of all he'd have gone and commiserated with Peter over a beer. Peter had always been about as lucky in love as Remus himself, which was not very.

Now though, his options were rather more limited.

If things hadn't been the way they were he'd have possibly dropped in on Arthur. Or more likely asked him over to Grimmauld Place for a quiet drink, as he had a number times since he'd moved in there.

Since the Order had been recalled Remus had found himself drawn to the older man's calm, friendly presence and unfailing kindness. Arthur's continued silent reassurance that he really didn't have the slightest issue with Remus' lycanthropy (so different from other people's strident claims that clashed with their occasional clear concerns about it) had won over Remus' confidence far quicker than he would have expected. Arthur Weasley was very, very different to Sirius or James, but Remus had quickly learnt to value the other man's gentler sense of humour and endless curiosity about everything. It had occurred to him to wonder if Percy realised quite where he got that from.

At present though the very idea of intruding on the Weasley family in any way was unthinkable.

His list of friends was embarrassingly short and sadly exhausted.

Perhaps though it didn't need to be a friend exactly. A slightly mad plan began to take vague shape in his mind. Maybe one Slytherin could offer insight into another.

A dubious theory perhaps, but there wasn't much else to do.

XXXXXXX

There were vague grumbling sounds even before the door opened and Remus was met with Severus' familiar tired scowl.

"What the hell do you want?"

Remus shrugged, suddenly aware that this had been a terrible idea. "Wondered if you might like a drink?" he suggested hopefully.

Snape looked wholly disbelieving, but also unutterably tired. He shook his head in some kind of disgusted confusion and walked off.

Remus stood in the doorway unsure whether to stay or go.

"Oh please, come in!" Severus turned back to him. Something in the tone of his sarcasm, his less than perfect control, made Remus do as he'd been invited (but possibly not wanted) to do.

As the door closed quietly behind him, Remus took an awkward seat on the battered green leather sofa. "How are you, Severus?" The raised eyebrows were enough to make Remus wish he'd turned and run when he'd had the chance. "I'm sorry, I'm intruding..."

"Obviously. What else could you be doing here?"

This was more antagonistic than Remus had expected and suddenly retreat seemed the only decent option. "Well, I'll just..." Remus stopped abruptly as a glass slammed down in front of him. Whisky by the look of it. "Erm...thank you."

The other man sat down in an armchair opposite the sofa, a glass in his own hand and a scowl on his face.

After a few minutes of strained quiet Severus seemed to come to a decision. "So are you going to explain what you're doing here?"

Remus, short on explanations that made any sense even to himself, simply gestured with his glass and an innocent expression.

Severus responded with a look Remus was pretty sure he gave to those of his students he deemed truly beyond help.

"Well, it's not like either one of us has a lot of options for drinking buddies." Remus sighed, "I was just missing Sirius and James, and I suppose I thought maybe there were people you missed too."

For a moment there was something in his companion's face that made Remus wonder if he'd hit a nerve that he really shouldn't have gone within a hundred miles of. A second later he could have believed he'd imagined it.

"You're here because you've decided that what we have in common is that all of our school friends are dead," Severus stated baldly, perfectly composed and almost amused.

"Put like that it sounds appalling!" Remus protested.

"That would be because it is appalling."

"I just..." Just what? Remus was well aware there was no good ending to that sentence.

"Had nowhere else to go," Severus finished for him with a sneer.

Embarrassed and angry, Remus couldn't think what to say. It was hard to rebut the truth.

Severus however didn't press his advantage in their fight for once. "Well," he allowed with a grimace, "I suppose I don't have a lot of places to go either." He gestured around himself in disgust, "At least you're not still stuck at school."

Remus had long felt sorry for Severus, spending his adult life in a place where his teenage self had seemed so unhappy. Where else though was likely to employ him? Anyway the idea that he would leave McGonagall to it at such a time was laughable. Severus might moan and grumble, and come disturbingly close to abusing his students, but he wasn't about to abandon Hogwarts' new Headmistress.

Uncomfortable with just how much honesty there was in Severus' words, Remus responded with a wry grin, "That's because you got me thrown out."

Severus smiled like he'd been reminded of something pleasing. "Ah yes." He took a sip of the really rather good whisky, savouring it along with the memory.

It should have made Remus angry or upset, but for some reason it only made him smile. Undoubtedly the whisky was helping. "How is Hogwarts? Is McGonagall doing ok?" He still struggled to call her Minerva but had noticed on numerous occasions in the last few years that Severus had no such issue. It was clear that over time their relationship had changed an awful lot - in fact in his most far-fetched moments Remus had wondered just how much, in a manner that would have done Dru proud.

Severus looked uncomfortable. "I think she's coping," he hesitated, clearly weighing his words and who he was speaking to, "But that's all it is for now. She's not comfortable with the role or how she came into it. She misses Albus. Everyone does."

That, Remus assumed, was as close as Severus was going to get to saying how much he must miss the headmaster. "Understandable. She's lucky to have all of you supporting her."

Severus looked even more uncomfortable and Remus began to wonder if there'd been some issue between the two house heads. It would hardly be surprising if Severus had said something he shouldn't have.

The potions master however did not offer any further information and instead asked, "How are things with our would-be-Minister?"

Severus' change of subject was not to Remus' taste. He forced a smile. "Fine. Yes, she's fine."

Severus snorted and actually poured him another measure of whisky. "That well?"

Remus sighed. What was the point in getting angry, it must have been obvious why he was here and not with Dru. "Pretty much."

Severus watched him for a few moments as he turned his own attention back to his drink. Eventually Severus spoke. "She was my house prefect."

His words caught Remus' attention. "You know, it's funny, I just don't really remember her from school."

There was definite amusement in the dark eyes across from him now. "If you need a refresher, she was self-absorbed, nosy, and a pain in the teachers' backsides," it looked like Severus approved of that last one. "She was also irritatingly talented, opinionated, and seemingly unstoppable. She appears to have mellowed a bit, but she has not shaken her instinct to be self-reliant."

"No," Remus replied softly, "She certainly hasn't."

"Look at it this way, if she keeps you around you'll know it's for good reason. She doesn't do much out of sentimentality," he grimaced around the word. Severus didn't do much from sentimentality either. An under recognized Slytherin house trait, or just a coincidence, Remus wondered.

"Thank you," Remus said, dubiously, "That's good to know."

Severus shrugged expressively. "What did you expect? You already knew all of that."

"Yes."

Severus sighed, "Are you leaving soon?"

Remus was unwillingly amused by the slight note of desperation in Severus' tone. "I'll take that as a 'please leave' and let you have some peace."

"Not a lot of peace around here," Severus grumbled, but he didn't argue with Remus' interpretation and ushered him quickly to the door.

Remus only got a few steps down the corridor though before his first name, snapped certainly but still his first name, recalled his attention. "Don't do this again. We are not about to become friends." Severus warned.

Remus found a genuine smile impossible to suppress. He nodded respectfully, "Understood. Goodnight, Severus."

His only answer was a curt, barely there, nod and a sharply closed door.

Remus was left standing in the dungeon corridors of his old school having just shared a drink with his boyhood enemy who had come amusingly close to offering him advice on his currently spiralling love life. There was nothing to do but laugh. "Good god, Sirius," he muttered to himself as he made his way out of the castle, "I'm sure that somewhere this is amusing you no end."

XXXXXXX

Severus sighed. He wasn't sure when he'd become someone that random Gryffindors thought they could drop in on for a friendly drink, but he didn't appreciate it. Amusing as watching Remus chase his tail in his sorry excuse for a love life was.

Happy to at least be left in peace, Severus returned to his interrupted book. It wasn't even ten minutes before the next knock at the door.

He rose with a growl and reluctantly set the book aside. If the werewolf had come back then he was going to make him regret it.

"Yes?!" He snapped as he yanked the door open to reveal a slightly put out looking Professor McGonagall. "Oh, hello." Severus smoothed his robes reflexively and gestured her inside. "Come in." He hastened to clear away the pair of empty whisky glasses but Minerva's eyes were too sharp to miss a sign that obvious.

"Who have you been drinking with?"

"No one."

Minerva raised a single severe eyebrow in the direction of the two glasses in his hands.

Severus huffed impatiently and discarded the glasses on a sideboard. "Lupin dropped in."

If he had been regretting letting the werewolf in (which he hadn't entirely, he felt he'd got a fair amount of amusement out of the interruption watching the other man mope over Thornfield) then Minerva's smile would have changed his mind. She'd always been after the two of them to get along better while Lupin had worked at Hogwarts, and she'd been furious with him after he'd got the man fired.

"How is he?" She smiled as she sat down, she'd always been so obviously fond of the irritating werewolf.

Severus resumed his seat and conjured a pot of tea. "Lovelorn, I'd say."

She didn't look entirely surprised. "Oh dear, things not going well with Druscilla do you think?"

"I think they're going about as well as you could expect." He set about pouring tea.

"Hmm," she looked severe as she accepted her cup. "She's not an easy woman and I don't think she bestows her heart lightly."

"She wouldn't be with him at all if she didn't want him. If it doesn't work out it won't be because she doesn't care for him."

Minerva gave a very odd smile and stirred her tea contemplatively. "It's hard to tell with you lot sometimes."

"'You lot'?"

"Slytherins," she clarified. "You're hard to read. Very few of you care to give any indication that you might suffer from any finer feelings. Of course, perhaps sometimes the rest of us don't make it easy. This morning, perhaps I could have phrased things better."

Much as he'd grown to rely on it over the years, sometimes her forthrightness still took his breath away. The honest simple admission was, he could allow, more than he would have offered in her place. He had at least however learnt to offer her a gracious response. "Perhaps. But I suspect there's no way you could have phrased anything this morning that I couldn't have taken amiss."

"Probably not. You do have quite the talent for that." There was, he thought, almost a hint of amused fondness in the unmistakable reprimand. "It was undiplomatic though, I was tired and frustrated and I didn't help."

She still looked tired and frustrated. "I'm not entirely sure how Albus did it," she continued. "It turns out you really do have to be mad to be on the Hogwarts staff. Just today I've had Filius suggesting we start another duelling club – as though encouraging the students to fight each other right now were an excellent idea."

"Might get it out of their system." Severus muttered.

Minerva carried on as though he hadn't spoken. "Also Hagrid telling me over lunch that he's definitely not cross-breeding magical and non-magical species, which convinces me that he is almost certainly cross-breeding magical and non-magical species...again."

Severus grimaced. "Time to reinforce the spells preventing creatures entering the castle I think."

"Oh, and a deputation from Filch requesting the instatement of capital punishment - I'd like to think he was confused and meant 'corporal', but knowing Argus..."

"He wasn't confused."

"Quite." Minerva huffed. "Add in you being your charming self, and you have my week so far and it's only Tuesday evening! How the hell did Albus manage this madhouse!"

"Well I think he managed by being completely mad himself."

"Is that what I have to look forward to?" she sighed.

Severus cleared his throat awkwardly. "I may have made him some ill-advised promise about trying to prevent that happening."

Minerva smiled slowly. "Did you now?"

"Yes." Guilt prickled. "Perhaps I've not exactly followed through on that yet."

She shrugged. "Well, you're here, and unlike the rest of our colleagues, currently listening and looking at least vaguely sympathetic. Frankly I'll take what I can get."

"You do know you have my support? Whether that be in persuading Filius that there is no way on earth I could consider it a safe idea to encourage the students to use each other for target practice right now, or helping you chase Hagrid's beasts from the castle, or even talking Argus down from actively murdering students to simply hanging them in chains for a while."

Minerva didn't smile, but he could tell she wanted to. "It'll be the staff being hung in chains at this rate."

"If I get a say in it I'd prefer you just cursed me, I don't really need any more time with my thoughts to consider what I've done wrong." It was supposed to be a poor attempt at a joke but it came out rather more bitterly than he'd intended.

"Yes, you do quite enough wallowing as it is."

"Wallowing?"

"Severus, I don't want to sound unkind, but you can replay your life choices until you drive yourself utterly insane and it will change nothing. The self-loathing isn't helping you and it isn't helping anybody else either. Your students, Draco," she hesitated, "Me, no one benefits from the way you constantly seem to find yourself wanting."

"Minerva...!"

"No," she interrupted him. "You're going to listen to me. If I have to lock the door and throw you in a full bodybind, you will hear this!"

Dear god, he thought, she probably both could and would.

"You made some godawful mistakes in your youth but rather than point to the fairly rotten hand you were dealt in life, the fact that you'd been let down by family and teachers alike," he definitely wasn't imagining the flicker of guilt there, "You chose to reckon with what you'd done. You offered your services and your life to the person you thought most likely to put them to good use, and ever since you have done what you thought best for pretty much everyone but yourself."

The emotion in her usually controlled voice held him fascinated, like a bird before a weaving cobra. He wanted more than anything to stop her but found himself frozen in silence.

"And I'm sure Albus could have said this better, but I'm not him, I don't have a century of wisdom under my belt, a friendly twinkle in my eye, and the undying respect of the Wizarding World."

He strongly suspected that, realise it or not, she probably did have the last one. Certainly in his opinion she should, though he'd never told her that. Now didn't seem the time, especially as he half-wanted to curse her.

"I think you should leave," he bit out.

His tone had no visible effect on her. Instead of becoming angry she reached out and patted his arm. "Get some sleep. You've had a lot to deal with, and I doubt you're going to think it looks any better in the morning so you might as well at least be able to face it all without being completely exhausted."

Words utterly failed him. There was a tight feeling in his chest and throat, and he was reasonably sure that even if he could have thought of something to say he wouldn't actually have been able to articulate it.

Minerva smiled softly. "Please sleep. I need you to make good on that promise to Albus, whether you think it was well-advised or not." She hesitated and gave him a very 'no-nonsense' look. "I need you."

She'd gone before he could unfreeze his voice.

XXXXXXX

A/N: Thanks for reading, so let me know what you think. :)