Scars, Part 4

by Geri ([email protected])

My homepage: http://www.geocities.com/geri_chans_fics/index.html

Rating: NC-17 overall

Pairings: Snape/Lupin, Ash/Tsubasa; also a little Theodore/Blaise, Dylan/Hermione, and Aric/Takeshi

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts; [] indicates song lyrics.

Disclaimer: Based on the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling; song lyrics are from "Scars" by Papa Roach. No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Warning: AU. This story contains a character from Half-Blood Prince, but does not follow the HBP storyline.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising, Aftermaths, The Revenant, Ash's Story, and Summer Vacation III.

Summary: Harry, Tonks, and Kingsley encounter the daughter of a Death Eater at the museum, and ask Snape for advice; Ash's attempts to court Tsubasa do not go according to plan.
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Ash frowned at his reflection in the mirror as he got dressed for work, with much more care than usual, because today he had a fencing lesson with Tsubasa after work. He had lots of nice new robes to wear now that he was working at the Ministry, but unfortunately, he didn't really get to show them off much in front of Tsubasa. At his first lesson a few weeks ago, Tsubasa had told him that he should wear comfortable clothing that he wouldn't mind getting sweaty and dirty, so he usually changed into old, faded robes or t-shirt and jeans after work before heading to Hogwarts. But today Ash decided not to bother with that, and to just throw a nice robe on over his t-shirt and jeans. Even if people noticed that he was wearing Muggle clothing beneath the long robe, it wouldn't really matter because he was currently in favor with the Minister of Magic, and Arthur Weasley loved all things Muggle. He had been thrilled with the electric toothbrush that Hermione and Dylan had given him, and Ash had just helped him to set up his latest Muggle toy in his office: an espresso/cappuccino machine. Molly Weasley had banned it from her home after Arthur had tried to set it up himself and ended up spraying hot water and milk all over the kitchen, but Ash had got it working properly, and Arthur was even more pleased with him than ever. And of course there was the side benefit of being able to get a good cup of coffee from the Minister's office every morning.

After some thought, Ash donned a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, fashionably faded and slightly frayed over the knees. They were not tight enough to be uncomfortable or inhibit movement, but fit snugly enough to show off the curve of his arse. He no longer had the scrawny, stick-thin figure he'd had as a half-starved runaway child; over the years, hard work and sufficient (if not always plentiful) food had filled out his body with flesh and muscle, although he was still more lean and sinewy than brawny and athletic-looking like Aric, or sleek and beautiful like the late, unlamented Lucius Malfoy.

Ash sighed as he brushed out his long, shoulder-length hair, wishing for just a touch of Malfoy-like sleekness; Lucius Malfoy had been an evil bastard, but a handsome one. He automatically pulled his hair forward to hide the scar running across the left side of his face, then scowled at his reflection and impatiently pushed his hair back. Who the hell was he trying to fool, anyway? The scar was impossible to hide completely, and trying to cover it up probably just drew more attention to it. He had been assured by numerous past lovers that he was handsome and that the scar even gave him a roguish, piratical charm. Ash would laugh and agree with them, playing at being vain, but whenever he looked in the mirror, deep in his heart, he still felt ugly...

"Making yourself pretty for your little bird?" a sleepy voice asked from the doorway. Ash snarled and hurled his hairbrush at the doorway; Kian yelped in pain as it bounced off his head.

"What was that for?" the young werewolf whined plaintively, rubbing his head.

"What are you doing here?" Ash retorted. "I thought you were at the mansion."

Kian yawned, rubbing bleary eyes. "Me and Kai were out late last night. Figured it would be better to crash here than to stumble in drunk in the middle of the night and wake up Lady Narcissa. She has a sharp tongue when she's angry, and Lukas is overprotective of his mate now that she's with cub. Merlin help anyone who disturbs his beloved's beauty rest."

"Oh, I don't care!" Ash growled. "Just mind your own business!"

Kian had to jump back hastily to avoid being hit as Ash slammed the door shut. "Well, somebody sure woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning," he muttered to the closed door.
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Kian and his lover Kai stumbled into the charity clinic in Diagon Alley later that morning, both of them looking pale and slightly ill. Takeshi immediately recognized their symptoms and fetched two potion bottles without being asked. Werewolves rarely got sick, aside from the pain and nausea in the days leading up to the full moon. However, it was currently nowhere near the full moon, and even a werewolf was not immune to a hangover.

"Ah, thanks, Takeshi," Kian sighed after he gulped down the Hangover Potion. Kai nodded his thanks as he swallowed his own potion.

"I like a glass of wine or a cup of good ale as much as the next person, but it's not healthy to drink until you're sick, you know," Takeshi scolded them.

"We were celebrating," Kai protested.

"Celebrating what?"

"Oh, having jobs and not being outcasts anymore," Kai said, gesturing vaguely. "Living in a fine mansion and learning to play Quidditch."

"You've had a job and been living in the mansion since the beginning of summer," Takeshi said dryly. "Just how long do you intend to keep celebrating?"

Kai ignored the question and added virtuously, "And we never get drunk when we have to work the next day."

"Today's our day off," Kian chimed in. "We'd never let Master Isamu down by giving less than our best at work."

"Well, at least that cuts down on the number of nights you can go drinking," Takeshi sighed, then frowned thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen Ash come in for a Hangover Potion lately, either, although I've been away for most of the summer." His friend had a fondness for Firewhiskey, and usually turned up seeking relief from hangovers on a regular basis.

"Oh, he hasn't been going to the pubs with us," Kai snickered. "He spends all his time pining over his pretty bird. I think your cousin's been playing hard to get, Takeshi."

"Well, crane courtship rituals can be rather complicated," Takeshi said with a smile. "Although since Tsubasa spent most of his childhood living among the humans, and most of his adult life living with the tengu, he doesn't really worry much about adhering to formal rituals. But he is still a pureblooded crane, and my people do not give away their hearts lightly; the instinct to cleave unto a sole lifemate is in our blood. So you might tell Ash to look upon Tsubasa playing 'hard to get' as a positive sign. If all he wanted was a one night stand or a casual affair, he would just sleep with Ash and be done with it. And if he wasn't interested, he would find a way to turn down Ash politely. But if he hasn't outright rejected Ash, then it probably means that he's at least contemplating the possibility of a serious relationship. But he wouldn't just jump into something like that."

"I guess it is complicated, huh?" Kian sighed. "Well, I wish your cousin would make up his mind, Takeshi. Ash has been rather grumpy lately."

Aric came up behind Takeshi, slipping an arm around his waist and brushing his lips against Takeshi's neck; Takeshi leaned back against him, sighing. "Tell Ash he should be stubborn and persistent," Aric said with a wolfish grin, exposing his sharp canine teeth. "Tell him not to give up."

"Stubbornness does seem to be an inherent werewolf trait," Takeshi laughed, smiling at his lover fondly.
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Laura was staring at the picture of her brother one morning, as she often did, frowning thoughtfully.

"Laura?" Rosie called from the doorway. "Hurry up, we'll be late for breakfast!"

"Oh, sorry," Laura said, hastily putting the photo away and hurrying to join Rosie.

"You're always staring at Ethan's picture," Rosie said with a smile. "I would have thought you'd have his face memorized by now."

"It's odd, but his face looks familiar somehow, even though I've never met him," Laura replied. "I was trying to figure out who he reminds me of."

"Probably yourself and your mother, silly," Rosie said. "He has your eyes, after all."

Laura didn't contradict her friend, but she thought that Rosie was wrong. It was true that Ethan had hazel eyes, like both Laura and her mother, but aside from that, he didn't look much like either of them, or Father, for that matter. Yet she had the strangest feeling that she had seen him somewhere before, although of course that was impossible.

The thought nagged at her persistently, like an itch that couldn't be scratched, but she tried to put it out of her mind for now, and changed the subject. In the Great Hall, most of the other Hufflepuff girls were talking about how "dreamy" Professor Tsubasa was. Even practical Rosie sighed and giggled along with the others. Laura privately thought that the Professor was very handsome, but a little too pretty for her taste. Her ideal type was someone who was strong and masculine, but also serious and kind--like Cedric Diggory, whom she'd had a crush on as a first-year. Not that she'd ever thought she'd had a chance with him, of course, but she had admired him, as nearly all the other Hufflepuff girls had. She was glad that Master Diggory was planning to name his baby after Cedric, because it made her feel like a part of Cedric would still live on.

But even though she didn't moon over Professor Tsubasa like the other girls, she did like him as a teacher; his lessons were always interesting. He had explained in one of his earlier lectures that wizards in other countries didn't always use a wand for what he called a "focus object," and that some of the non-human races didn't need a focus object at all. Today, one of the students asked him to explain more about the concept of wandless magic.

"If non-humans can work magic without a wand, doesn't that make them more powerful than the human wizards?" Kevin Whitby asked. "So why aren't the non-humans in charge of the wizarding world?"

"Numbers, for one thing," Tsubasa replied. "We are far outnumbered by human wizards, much the same way that Muggles outnumber wizards in general. For another, the type of magic that the non-human races can perform is generally very limited. The tanuki, for example, are masters of Illusion-type spells, but have no talent for combative magic. Therefore, they must use illusion and trickery to defend themselves, and will normally hide or flee rather than fight if threatened. My people, the crane folk, have the unique gift of Weaving magic and the ability to shapeshift at will. Some of us have a talent for Healing, and occasionally a Seer is born among us, but like the tanuki, we have little aptitude for combative magic. Werewolves, of course, possess the ability to turn into wolves, but they have no control over the transformation. It is a natural balance of power, Mr. Whitby. The shapeshifters possess the ability to cast spells without wands, but only in one or two specialized fields of magic, while humans have access to a wide variety of spells, but are limited by the need to use a wand or other focus object. House-elves are able to perform a variety of wandless spells, but are limited by the bonds of servitude to their masters."

"Hmm," Kevin said thoughtfully. "So it's like nature's way of balancing things out, to keep one group from getting too powerful?"

"Exactly," Tsubasa said with an approving smile. "At least, that is what my people believe."

"Someone should tell that to Hermione Granger," joked another of Laura's classmates, a boy named Owen Cauldwell. He rolled his eyes and added, "She's determined to save the house-elves from their lives of slavery--whether they want to be saved or not."

"But she has a point," Laura said hesitantly. "The balance of power isn't really equal. Humans still have the most power in the wizarding world."

"Well, no system is perfect," Tsubasa admitted.

"And you use a wand," Kevin pointed out.

"Yes, I was educated in the human ways of magic at Salem," Tsubasa replied. "But my Weaving ability is rather weak; perhaps that is why I was able to learn human magic with such ease. Or possibly it's the other way around, and my ability to use Weaving magic was stunted by the fact that I was practicing human magic." He shrugged, looking unconcerned. "It is the former rather than the latter, I think, since my strongest talent is Transfiguration, and shapeshifting, after all, is a type of Transfiguration magic. But I suppose that it doesn't really matter, so long as I am content with myself the way I am."

"And are you content, Professor?" Laura asked, wondering if he really was content with his life, considering that he had left his home and traveled so far away to teach at a foreign school. Was it out of a sense of adventure or a desire to promote better international relations, or was it something more?

"Content enough, Miss Madley," Tsubasa said lightly, then smiled rather ironically and added, "Some of my kinfolk are perhaps not so content with me, but that is their problem, not mine. In any case, let us continue with today's lesson." He handed out to each student a wooden stick topped with a wooden propeller. "This is a traditional child's toy in Japan, a take-tonbo, or bamboo dragonfly. And this spell is what attracted the Headmaster's attention and led to him offering me a job here at Hogwarts." He took out his wand, tapped the toy with it, and cried, "Transformare Libelle!"

The class applauded politely as the stick-toy turned into a real dragonfly and buzzed around the room a few times before returning to the teacher's desk and resuming its original form. They were impressed but not overawed, as they had seen McGonagall perform similar types of spells.

"Now you try it," Tsubasa said, and they discovered that it wasn't as easy as he made it look. Nothing happened when they waved their wands and shouted the incantation.

"Are we pronouncing it wrong?" Kevin asked, looking confused.

"Haven't you realized by now that the actual words are not really that important?" Tsubasa gently chided. "They only serve to channel and focus your power, in much the same way that your wand does. Then again, Western magic does place a great deal of emphasis on incantations, so perhaps it's not surprising that many wizards believe that the magic resides in the words themselves. But haven't you ever wondered how nonverbal spells are cast?"

"Uh...not really," Kevin confessed, looking a little embarrassed. "That's considered advanced magic; they don't start teaching nonverbal spells till sixth year, and we're only in fifth."

"I never really thought much about it," Laura added. "I mean, I know what a nonverbal spell is, but I just assumed that it worked because you recited the incantation silently in your mind."

"The words of the incantation do have importance," Tsubasa said with a smile. "But only the importance that we attach to them. The incantations used by Western mages are mostly based in Latin, including the one that I just taught you: 'Transformare' means 'to transform,' of course, and 'Libelle' means 'dragonfly'. But a wizard from my homeland might say, 'tonbo henshin!'--Japanese for 'dragonfly transform!' Or he might say nothing at all." He tapped the wooden toy with his wand again, this time without uttering the incantation, and it turned into a dragonfly once more.

"So...do you want us to practice nonverbal spells?" Owen asked doubtfully.

"No, Mr. Cauldwell," Tsubasa said kindly, to Owen's obvious relief. "I'm just reminding you that concentration and willpower are the keys to casting a successful spell. The incantation is there to help you concentrate and focus your power. Don't just mouth the words; as you recite the incantation, concentrate very hard on picturing the image of the dragonfly in your mind. Picture it down to the smallest detail--the color of its body and the shape of its wings. Transforming an inanimate object into a living creature is very difficult, but remember that the toy is made of wood, which was once living itself. Call to the life within the wood; call on it to awaken and reshape itself into the form you picture in your mind. Ready? Begin!"

Laura shut her eyes to help herself concentrate, building an image of a dragonfly in her head: bulbous eyes, a shiny blue-green body, and four fluttering transparent wings. She held her wand in one hand and clenched the take-tonbo in the other. Her fingers stroked the smooth wood, and she silently called on it to remember what it was like to be alive. "Transformare Libelle," she whispered. "Transformare Libelle. Transformare Libelle."

She still felt the wooden stick in her hand, so she thought that the spell had failed, but she heard startled gasps and laughter from her classmates, so she opened her eyes and saw to her astonishment that the wooden dragonfly was still wooden, but had begun sprouting leaves and twigs.

"That's not quite what I meant when I said to call to the life within the wood, but you seem to have been very successful in doing so," Tsubasa said with a grin. "Perhaps a little too much so; I think you have a talent for plant magic, Miss Madley."

"Herbology's my best subject, sir," Laura said, smiling sheepishly.

"So it would seem," Tsubasa said, still grinning. "Well, I'll award you five points, since you were halfway successful with your spell. You can try casting it again with my tonbo." He handed her the toy he had been using. "You should plant the other in Professor Sprout's gardens. It would be a shame to turn it back into a lifeless stick now that you've awakened it."

"Yes, sir," Laura said, blushing a little. She was a little embarrassed by the spectacular failure of the spell, but at the same time felt excited by how she'd been able to "awaken" the wooden stick. It wasn't something they had ever covered in Herbology, but surely this was useful magic for a future farmer and Herbologist to know.

Professor Sprout was just as surprised and delighted when Laura showed her the leafy stick. "You have a real talent for Herbology, my dear!" she said proudly. "I admit I had some reservations about Professor Tsubasa, but it seems that his methods are quite effective, even if somewhat unorthodox. I think that you're ready to learn some magic more advanced than what we're covering in class, Miss Madley. I know that you're busy getting ready for your O.W.L.s, but if you can spare the time, I'd like to give you special tutoring afterschool, say, twice a week?"

"Oh, I would love that, Professor Sprout!" Laura exclaimed.

"Meet me in Greenhouse 1 afterschool today then, dear. But for now, let's get your little friend planted."
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Meanwhile, Harry, Tonks, and Kingsley had picked up the magical artifacts from the archaeological dig, and were screening them at the Ministry. "Nasty bloke, this wizard," Tonks observed cheerfully. Among the artifacts was a golden torc shaped like a snake, much like the one that Master Diggory often wore, except that this one had only one head. When the hapless victim donned the torc, the serpent came to life and bit him or her on the neck.

"See here?" Tonks pointed out. "There's a chamber in the snake's head to hold the poison; the fangs are tiny hollow needles. It's really quite clever." Harry nervously pulled his hands back out of reach of the snake's mouth, and Tonks laughed. "Don't worry, Harry, the poison chamber is empty."

There was another serpent-shaped torc that was enchanted to strangle its owner, and a sun-shaped plaque made of solid gold that was probably something like a magical burglar alarm; it would shoot forth a searing blast of flame if someone walked past it without uttering the proper command word to disarm it.

"It seems to be using the type of Dark Warding spells that Professor Lupin...that Remus told us about in DADA class," Harry said. "It's defensive rather than offensive, but it inflicts harm on someone if they try to get past it."

"Very good, Harry; five points to Gryffindor," Kingsley joked. "Actually, I'm not sure whether this wizard was a 'nasty bloke,' as Tonks said, or just extremely paranoid. Most of these items, while Dark, are defensive rather than offensive in nature." He held up a silver goblet that was enchanted to identify and neutralize poisons.

"Well, he could have been both," Harry pointed out. "Nasty and paranoid."

"Quite true," Kingsley agreed, and they continued sorting through the artifacts. Most of them would be locked in secure vaults at the Ministry, and the less dangerous ones, such as the goblet, would be sent on to the Museum of Wizarding History.

"What about this one?" Harry asked, holding up a chipped stone medallion. "It has a Dark aura, but it's faint, and Master Tremayne and Theodore aren't sure what it does, although they think it might be something to do with lycanthropy."

"It should be safe enough to send it on to the museum," Kingsley said dismissively. "Even if it is Dark, it doesn't seem to be functional. Broken items usually don't work, and even when they do, they rarely work properly or effectively."

"As Ron knows from experience," Harry said with a grin, and told them the story about how Ron had broken his wand in second year.

They took the artifacts deemed "safe" to the museum and handed them over to a Professor Henry Bletchley, whom Harry was surprised to discover was the cousin of the former Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley. He seemed a good deal more pleasant than his cousin, who had once hit Alicia Spinnet with a curse during Harry's fifth year.

They were discussing the artifacts when Kingsley looked up and noticed someone hovering in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" he asked sharply, and Harry stared at him in surprise, because Kingsley was usually very good-natured. He turned to see who had gotten Kingsley so upset, and saw a woman standing in the doorway. He thought she was young, but it was difficult to tell how old she was or whether she was pretty or not, because her head was bowed, her long dark hair falling forward and obscuring her face. She looked vaguely familiar, although Harry couldn't recall where--or if--he had seen her before.

"The Director asked me to deliver some files to Professor Bletchley," she said quietly.

"Thank you, Imogen," Bletchley said hastily, rising to his feet to take the files from her. She nodded and left the room, head still bowed.

"Who was that?" Harry asked.

"Imogen Macnair," Kingsley replied, frowning as he gazed after the departing woman.

"Macnair?!" Harry exclaimed. "As in the Death Eater Macnair?"

"She's his daughter," Kingsley said. "Macnair has two children, Imogen and a twin brother, Warren. We couldn't prove that they had any connection to the Death Eaters, but I find it extremely unlikely that they had no knowledge of their father's activities, and I don't like that she was listening in on our conversation."

"You yourself deemed the artifacts not dangerous, Mr. Shacklebolt," Bletchley said coldly. "And even so, I assure you that they will be kept safely under lock and key here at the museum. Miss Macnair works here as a clerk, and she does sometimes stop by my office to deliver documents, so she wasn't necessarily spying on you."

"Is she a friend of yours?" Kingsley asked suspiciously.

"No, I barely know her," Bletchley replied. "She's much younger than I am, and I've been working abroad for most of the past two decades. I don't know her well enough to say whether she's trustworthy or not. But I do know what it's like to be viewed with suspicion and treated like a potential Death Eater just because I'm a Slytherin. I have met Walden Macnair, and I do agree that he's a very cruel and unpleasant man, but the Macnair children were too young to take part in the first war, and from what I understand, were living in Europe for most of the second, so it seems unlikely that they were Death Eaters themselves. They may have shared their father's political views, but even if that's true, haven't they been punished enough? Their father is in prison, the family name has been disgraced, and Warren has been unable to find anyone willing to hire a Death Eater's son. Imogen was able to secure a clerical position here at the museum only because one of the curators was a friend of her late mother, and took pity on her friend's daughter. And it's a position that would normally be far beneath the status of a wealthy pureblood woman. So you may take pleasure in knowing that the Macnair family has been quite humbled and humiliated, Mr. Shacklebolt."

"Kingsley didn't mean it that way, I'm sure," Tonks said, giving her fellow Auror an anxious look.

"She caught me by surprise," Kingsley said stiffly. "I didn't know that Miss Macnair was working here."

Bletchley nodded curtly, and the three Aurors rather awkwardly said goodbye and returned to the Ministry. When they were back at the office, Harry asked, "Do you really think that she was spying on us, Kingsley? Do you think she wants to steal the artifacts?"

"I don't know, Harry," Kingsley sighed, rubbing his hand across his bald pate. "It startled me to see her, as I said, and I admit I may be somewhat biased. Her father personally hurt and killed many of my colleagues."

"And so did Thaddeus Nott, and Evan Rosier," Tonks reminded him. "But Theodore and Dylan aren't like their fathers."

"Yes, but they've proven themselves by fighting on our side during the final battle," Kingsley said. "And they have no reason to be loyal to the Death Eaters: Thaddeus tried to sacrifice his own son, and the Death Eaters killed Dylan's mother and tried to sacrifice his aunt. I have no idea where Imogen Macnair's loyalties lie. You would have a better idea of whether or not she might want to carry on her father's cause, Tonks. Didn't you go to school with her? In fact, I think she was still at Hogwarts while you were there, Harry. Didn't you ever meet her?"

"I don't know," Harry replied. "I thought she looked sort of familiar, but I didn't get a good look at her face. And I didn't spend much time around the older students, especially the Slytherins."

"She would have graduated at the end of your third year, Harry," Tonks told him. "You wouldn't have had any classes together, so there's no reason for you to have met her, although you might have seen her sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall during meals; perhaps that's why she looks familiar to you. I was a few years ahead of Imogen and Warren." She winked at Harry. "That was before your time, of course. Can't say that I liked them; they were typical Slytherins, proud and snooty, and of course they looked down on a half-blood like me. Our paths didn't cross much, though, because of the age difference. I thought that they were arrogant and obnoxious, but I can't say if they were actually evil. Warren hexed a few kids he got into arguments with, but minor spells and nothing dangerous--certainly no Forbidden Curses. It seemed like typical kid stuff at the time; a lot of my Gryffindor friends got into worse mischief than the Macnairs. In fact, Imogen never really got into trouble at all, that I know of. I mean, she said some insulting things to those of us with less than pure blood, but it never went beyond a few snide remarks. I never saw her cast any hexes or do anything to get detention. Severus didn't believe that they were actively involved with the Death Eaters; as far as he knew, they never took the Dark Mark, and he never saw them at any meetings. And they were living abroad for the past few years, as Professor Bletchley pointed out, so they were never charged with any crimes."

"They were supposedly living abroad," Kingsley said, "but who's to say that they never returned home secretly from time to time? Or that they weren't carrying out some mission for the Death Eaters in Europe?"

"I think that's unlikely," Tonks replied. "Severus said that Voldemort was concentrating his efforts on killing Harry and gaining control of England before trying to take the war abroad."

"You're probably right, and I'm probably just being paranoid," Kingsley conceded. "But still, I think I'd like to talk to Snape about this again."

So they sent a message to Hogwarts, and Snape stopped by the Ministry later that afternoon, accompanied by Lupin. Kingsley hadn't specifically asked for Lupin to come with Snape, but Harry wasn't really surprised by his presence; ever since they had gone public with their relationship, the two of them were rarely seen apart, outside of their classrooms. And Harry suspected that if it had been possible, Lupin would have conducted a joint Potions/DADA class with Snape (although Snape would probably not have been so willing, since he complained loudly whenever Lupin embarrassed him by acting affectionate in front of the students). But the Potion's Master's bad temper aside, a combined class would not be practical--Harry could just picture a misfired Defense spell knocking over a Potions cauldron and setting off an explosion, which would in turn cause Snape to explode, figuratively speaking. Personally, Harry would much rather deal with an exploding cauldron than an exploding Snape.

But today Snape seemed...well, not in a good mood, exactly, but no more sour than usual. Lupin, of course, smiled sunnily and greeted everyone cheerfully. Snape listened to the story of their brief encounter with Imogen Macnair, then said, "I cannot say whether Miss Macnair's presence was purely coincidental or if she had ulterior motives, but I am absolutely certain that she and her brother were not Death Eaters."

"Well, maybe not officially, but are you certain that they weren't unofficially helping out their father?" Kingsley asked. "And are you sure they were really in Europe for the past few years?"

"I am absolutely certain," Snape said firmly, looking a little annoyed at having to repeat himself. "Macnair is a sadistic bastard, but he loves his children." He smiled wryly at the look of surprise on Kingsley's face. "Macnair noticed, as all the Death Eaters did, the signs that Voldemort was returning the year of the Triwizard Tournament. There was the Dark Mark cast at the Quidditch World Cup, and the Marks on our arms growing increasingly darker. Thaddeus Nott and Lucius Malfoy had no qualms about turning over their children to the Dark Lord, but Macnair didn't want to risk his offspring being injured or killed if war broke out--and I'm sure he knew that the Dark Lord was just as much danger to them as the Aurors, if not more so. He sent Imogen to be apprenticed to a witch in France; wealthy young pureblood women often go to France after graduation for an 'apprenticeship' that's really more of an extended vacation, a chance to gain some sophistication and culture. It's not as common now as it was in my mother's day, but it's still considered the genteel thing to do among a certain social set. As for Warren, he was sent to an acquaintance of Macnair's in Romania, a famous Dark Wizard. Macnair claimed that he had sent his son to study the Dark Arts in order to make him worthy of becoming a Death Eater, but it was really just an excuse to send his children away from England and out of Voldemort's reach."

"And Macnair confided this to you?" Kingsley asked skeptically.

"Of course not, you idiot," Snape replied irritably, while Kingsley glared at him and Tonks lifted her hand to her face to hide a smile. For some reason that Harry couldn't quite understand, Tonks seemed to like Snape, and found his rudeness more amusing than annoying.

"He would never openly discuss his weaknesses with anyone, not even a fellow Death Eater," Snape continued. "Admitting that he didn't trust our Master would be considered treason, and admitting to loving his children would mark them as hostages that could be used against him. However, as a skilled Legilimens and spy, it was quite easy for me to discern Macnair's true motives without him needing to state them openly."

"But did the other Death Eaters--and more importantly, Voldemort--really buy such a flimsy story?" Tonks asked.

Snape shrugged. "I doubt it, but most of the Death Eaters probably assumed that he just didn't want to put his heir at risk; even Lucius valued Draco to a certain extent, as his heir and the means to carry on the Malfoy name, if nothing else. As for the Dark Lord, he was too preoccupied with figuring out how to destroy Potter to worry about the Macnair children, although it did mark Macnair as being somewhat less than completely devoted to his Lord. But I'm sure that Macnair thought he could play it both ways--to keep his son and daughter safely out of England if Voldemort lost the war, or to bring them home to take the Dark Mark as loyal Death Eaters if Voldemort won. As it turns out, he was right to have sent them away. And whatever favor he might have lost in his Master's eyes, he quickly regained when he was able to convince the giants to side with the Death Eaters. He had also betrothed his son to Augustus Rookwood's granddaughter as a show of his commitment to the Death Eaters, but the Rookwood family broke off the engagement after the war ended and Augustus was arrested."

"Do you think that Macnair's children are dangerous, Professor?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice neutral and non-accusing.

Snape scowled at him anyway, but answered his question. "Yes and no, Potter. Warren and Imogen are devoted to their father and would no doubt like to seek revenge for him if they could. The Macnair family is unusually close for a bunch of ruthless, ambitious purebloods, perhaps because the twins' mother died in childbirth, and Macnair raised them himself and never remarried. However, Warren and Imogen are reasonably intelligent, or at least they were when I taught them at Hogwarts, and I doubt that they would be foolish enough to attempt a prison break or an attack on the Ministry now. They're smart enough to know that such an attempt would certainly be doomed to failure with the Aurors watching them so closely, and without any support from their father's colleagues, who are all currently dead or in prison. In a few years, perhaps, when the fear of the Death Eaters has died down and people have begun to forget...but for now, I don't think that they'll do anything foolish."

"That's not exactly reassuring, Snape," Kingsley sighed.

"You didn't ask me to be reassuring," Snape pointed out sourly. "You asked for my opinion of the Macnair children and I gave it to you."

"And we're grateful for the information, Severus," Tonks said soothingly. "Thank you. We'll continue to watch the Macnairs, but it's good to know that they're not an immediate threat. Could we offer the two of you some tea as thanks for your help?"

Snape looked as though he wanted to say "no," but Lupin cheerfully replied, "Thank you. It would be nice to have a chance to talk to Harry about how his new job is going."

"It's going fine, Prof...er, Remus," Harry said, grinning at Lupin while Snape scowled.

"We can't stay too long, though," Lupin continued, giving Snape a sly sidelong glance. "I have some...research...I'd like to conduct this afternoon."

"Research?" Tonks asked, although from the way Snape's face was turning red, Harry had a feeling that he didn't really want to hear Lupin's reply.

"Oh, I'm writing a book about lycanthropy," Lupin said sweetly. "A textbook to correct all the lies and misconceptions in less well-researched publications."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Remus!" Tonks said enthusiastically. "Don't you think so, Severus?"

"Lupin is certainly dedicated to this new project," Snape replied dryly. "He's been conducting downright exhaustive 'research' on it."

A slightly sarcastic emphasis on the word "research" caused Kingsley to raise his eyebrows and Lupin to laugh--a surprisingly wicked sound for the mild-mannered Gryffindor; it sounded almost Slytherin-ish. Snape actually smiled when he heard it.

"You really don't want to know," Harry whispered to Kingsley.

"I think you're right, Harry," Kingsley replied, and changed the subject to talk of Quidditch while a giggling Tonks put on a kettle of tea to boil.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sometime later, while they were in bed in their quarters at Hogwarts, Snape stopped in the middle of lovemaking and asked suspiciously, "You're not really going to put this in the book, are you, Remus?"

"Severus," Lupin groaned, squirming beneath Snape impatiently, "can't we discuss this later?"

"I'd prefer to discuss it now," Snape said firmly. "And I'd prefer not to have the intimate details of my personal life printed for the entire wizarding world to read."

Despite his impatience, Lupin grinned up at his lover mischievously. "But it would make a fascinating chapter, don't you think, Sev? 'Chapter Ten: The Mating Habits of Werewolves'..."

Snape glared at him and started to pull away, and Lupin frantically wrapped his arms and legs around Snape, trying to hold him in place. "Merlin's Beard, Severus, I was just kidding! You have no sense of humor."

"I have a very Slytherin sense of humor, Lupin," Snape retorted, then smiled wickedly. "For example, I would find it very amusing to torment you until you beg me to let you come."

He gently nipped at Lupin's throat, and Lupin began squirming with renewed urgency and moaned, "Oh please, Severus..."

"Well, that didn't take very long," Snape said, pretending to be disappointed. "You Gryffindors have no sense of self-control."

"No, we don't," Lupin agreed in a husky whisper, licking his lips and giving Snape a come-hither look; the Potions Master swallowed hard and his body quivered slightly, but he otherwise managed to remain still, determined to prove that Slytherins had more self-control than Gryffindors. "Especially when we're werewolves," Lupin continued, growling and baring his teeth playfully, and another tremor ran through Snape's body. "Ooh, you like it when I get wolfish, don't you?" Lupin teased. "So why don't you ravish me, Lord Snape, until the wolf howls in ecstasy?"

"'Ravish'?" Snape asked incredulously. "You really have been reading too many of Prospero's romance novels, Lupin! I told you that they'd rot your brain--"

Lupin snarled impatiently, then grabbed Snape's face and pulled it down towards his own, firmly cutting off Snape's complaints with a deep kiss. Snape could not have broken free even if he'd wanted to, which he didn't; Lupin was normally so gentle that it was easy to forget that he possessed the supernatural strength of a werewolf.

"Ravish me," Lupin commanded in a low growl that caused all Snape's resistance to melt away, and he obeyed with commendable haste, thrusting hard and fast into Lupin as the werewolf moaned and growled, his body writhing beneath Snape's, his fingers clawing urgently at Snape's back. Snape wondered, not for the first time, which one of them was really the alpha wolf in this relationship, for all that Lupin claimed that Snape was the "leader" of their little "pack". Then Lupin tilted his head back, offering up his throat, and Snape decided that it really didn't matter. He bit down on Lupin's throat, delighting in the wolf's howl of ecstasy as they both came.

They were both been so caught up in the wolf's urgent lust that the actual lovemaking lasted only a couple of minutes. "Didn't you say that werewolves are supposed to have incredible stamina?" Snape asked dryly as they lay side-by-side in bed afterwards, both of them panting slightly.

"I'd advise you to relax while you can, Sev," Lupin said with a grin. "I feel a second wind coming on."

"More research?" Snape asked with a straight face.

"If I'm going to write an accurate textbook, it's necessary for me to research the subject quite thoroughly," Lupin replied.

"That is the responsible thing to do," Snape agreed. "I suppose that as a fellow scholar, it is my duty to cooperate and aid you with your research." He gave Lupin a baleful, threatening look. "I certainly don't intend to let you conduct 'research' with anyone else."

Lupin just laughed and reached out to embrace his lover.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, Ash was in the middle of his fencing lesson with Tsubasa. They had the Physical Defense classroom to themselves, and Ash darted around the room, trying to evade Tsubasa's blows while simultaneously trying to get close enough to land a blow on his instructor. This might have been easier had he been fighting a normal human; werewolf speed and strength would have compensated for his lack of experience at swordfighting. However, Tsubasa was as quick as a werewolf and even more agile, and Ash found himself constantly on the defensive, with little chance to make an offensive strike.

Further complicating matters was the fact that it was very difficult to concentrate with his inner wolf aroused by the adrenaline rushing through his body; there was something strangely sensual about their sparring match, almost as if it were a rather violent courtship dance. The Wolfsbane Potion kept the beast within under control, but it could not completely suppress the wolf's violent nature. Ash was aroused by the battle, and distracted by Tsubasa's tantalizing scent, made stronger by the sharp tang of sweat--slightly pungent and deliciously male, with a hint of something exotic that Ash couldn't readily identify.

Further fueling his distraction was a growing sense of frustration. Ash had wanted the beautiful swordsman ever since he had first laid eyes on him, driven by an instinctive, animal-like hunger, but Tsubasa remained infuriatingly elusive. Not that he was unfriendly, but he managed to neatly sidestep all of Ash's attempts to ask him out, without actually turning Ash down outright. Each time that Ash suggested that they go out for a drink or a bite to eat after their lesson, Tsubasa would come up with some excuse to avoid it, like having to grade papers or tutor a student or attend a staff meeting. Ash would have assumed that he just wasn't interested, except that he always sounded genuinely regretful when he turned down Ash's offers, and Ash could swear that the crane man was giving off subtle signs of interest and attraction during their lessons, like some sort of damned pheromone. And it wasn't like he was completely avoiding Ash; he had consented to the lessons, after all, and the last time that he'd turned down Ash's offer to buy him dinner to repay him for the lessons, Tsubasa had said, "I'm sorry, but my aunt and uncle have invited me over to dinner tonight. Would you care to join us?" So he'd ended up having dinner with Tsubasa and the Kimuras and Aric, and Tsubasa often stopped by the mansion to dine with the werewolves on the weekends, but Ash still hadn't managed to spend any time alone with him outside of their lessons and it was driving him crazy.

Ash thought to himself despairingly that maybe it was stupid for him to even think that he had a chance with someone like Tsubasa. He was just a werewolf, after all--a nobody, an outcast, and despite his Ministry job, distrusted and feared by most of his coworkers. And there was the ugly scar running across his face; Ash still remembered how even the brothel owner he'd met as a child had dismissed him as damaged goods. Not that he'd wanted to become a prostitute, but when even the scum of Knockturn Alley had rejected him, how could he possibly be worthy of someone as perfect as Tsubasa?

Well, actually he was just assuming that Tsubasa was perfect. The kimono and hakama trousers that Tsubasa always wore covered up almost as much of his body as a normal robe would, exposing only his face, neck, forearms, feet, and ankles. Ash couldn't imagine Tsubasa being anything less than flawless beneath his clothing, but still, he longed to see for himself and verify that. Tsubasa's hakama was not fastened up the front with a fly like a normal pair of trousers, but instead was slit up the sides and held in place by two pairs of ties that were wrapped and knotted around his waist. The slits gaped open over his hips, although of course they only exposed the kimono that he wore beneath them instead of bare flesh. But Ash couldn't help but wonder what he would look like wearing nothing beneath his hakama...

A stinging pain across the backs of his legs and then a hard blow to his stomach rudely interrupted his fantasy, and Ash found himself lying flat on his back, groaning in pain as he looked up at a frowning Tsubasa.

"If my sword had been made of steel instead of wood, you would be hamstrung and gutted right now," the crane man said disapprovingly. "You could have evaded my attack if you had been paying attention, but your mind seemed to be elsewhere."

Ash felt his face grow hot; he could hardly confess that he'd been distracted by sexual fantasies about his instructor. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Well, never mind," Tsubasa sighed. "I think that's enough for today. We've been at this for over an hour, so perhaps you were just tired. You're actually doing extremely well for a beginner. It would take a normal human months or even years to progress to this point. I suppose it must be your werewolf strength and reflexes." He smiled, offering his hand to Ash. "And perhaps the wolf's natural instincts as a predator."

Ash took the other man's hand and allowed Tsubasa to pull him to his feet. They replaced their wooden swords back on the weapons racks on the wall, and Tsubasa tossed him a towel so that he could wipe off his face; they were both dripping with sweat from their vigorous workout. And then Tsubasa did something completely unexpected: he shrugged his shoulders and slipped his arms out of the sleeves of his kimono, allowing the garment to drop back and dangle from his waist, the bottom half of it still tucked in and held in place by the hakama. Tsubasa casually wiped the sweat from his bare torso with another towel while Ash stared in fascination. Yes, Tsubasa was as perfect as he'd imagined, with smooth white skin that he ached to caress with his fingers, and flat brown nipples that he longed to run his tongue across, licking and nibbling at them until they hardened...

A drop of sweat trickled down Tsubasa's back, and without thinking, Ash found his hand reaching out to wipe it away; Tsubasa's skin was warm and damp, and he could feel the other man tremble slightly beneath his hand. He could see more beads of sweat forming, and he pressed his mouth against Tsubasa's back, his tongue darting out to lap up the salty liquid.

Tsubasa gasped, then abruptly pulled away from him, and Ash suddenly came to his senses. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I just...I didn't mean to...I don't know what came over me..."

"It's all right," Tsubasa said, looking a little flushed and sounding slightly out of breath. "I'm not offended, just a little...startled."

Ash stared back at him in confusion. He could almost smell the desire radiating from Tsubasa, as clearly as the scent of sweat and exertion, and this time he was sure that it wasn't his imagination. But if Tsubasa wanted Ash as much as Ash wanted him, then why was he always pulling away?

Ash felt helpless and out of his element; although he had a reputation as a playboy among the pack, he usually let his lovers make the first move. And besides, all his affairs had been casual ones, since everyone in the pack had known that he wasn't looking for a serious relationship. Things had been as simple as asking (or being asked), "Would you like to spend the night with me?" If the answer was "yes," then both parties enjoyed a night of pleasure with no strings attached, and if the answer was "no," they would just shrug it off with no hard feelings on either side.

But now that he did want a serious relationship, Ash had no idea how to proceed with Tsubasa; he was used to being the one courted, not the one doing the courting. He wondered if the crane folk had some sort of formal courtship customs that he was supposed to be following, and if that was why Tsubasa was being so standoffish, because Ash wasn't doing things right. He had considered asking Takeshi for advice, but it seemed rather awkward to ask a former lover for advice on how to court someone new, especially since Tsubasa was Takeshi's cousin, although he knew that Takeshi would probably be happy to help him. Takeshi thought of their one night together as nothing more than a casual fling, but to Ash it had been something more, and somehow he just didn't feel comfortable going to Takeshi for help with his lovelife.

Then he remembered that Takeshi had already told him a little about crane courtship customs that night: "I might, for example, invite you to gaze upon the beauty of the stars and moon with me. That would signal that I was only interested in a tryst of a single night's length. But if I mentioned wanting to see the sunrise with you, which implies that you will still be here the next day, that would mean that I wished to pursue a more serious relationship with you."

So Ash gathered up his courage and asked, "Why don't you come to the mansion this weekend? We could have dinner with the pack, and afterwards...well, I have a bottle of good sake that Aric and Takeshi gave me, a souvenir from their summer vacation. I know of a nice spot on the estate grounds where we could share it while we gaze at the stars. And..." His voice faltered for a moment, and he was seized by a sudden impulse to flee like a coward, with his tail tucked between his legs. Instead he took a deep breath and continued, "And maybe...if you like...we could watch the sunrise together?"

Tsubasa tilted his head to one side, as if considering Ash's proposition, a quizzical smile on face. "I am very flattered, Ash, but before I can answer your question, you must answer a question for me."

That wasn't the response Ash had been expecting. "Uh...okay," he said hesitantly.

"What is it about me that you like, Ash?" Tsubasa asked, his tone of voice pleasant and light, but his dark brown eyes stared into Ash's intently.

"Um...ah...well...you're beautiful," Ash said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Ah, but all the crane folk are beautiful," Tsubasa replied lightly. "In fact, among my people, I would be considered only average in looks; there are many others much more beautiful than me."

Ash found that hard to imagine, and none of those other supposedly-more-beautiful crane folk were here, anyway, but he didn't think that was the answer that Tsubasa wanted to hear. "Well, of course I don't like you just for your looks," he said hastily. "I mean...I...well, it's difficult to put into words..."

"I suppose that I'm not being fair," Tsubasa said quietly, the light, almost joking quality gone from his voice now. "So I will come straight out and say what I really mean. Do truly want me, Ash, or do you just want me because I remind you of my cousin?" Ash's jaw dropped in shock. When he did not reply right away, Tsubasa persisted, "You were, at one time, in love with Takeshi, weren't you?"

"How did you know?" Ash whispered. "I never told anyone...none of the pack, not even Lukas..."

Tsubasa smiled slightly, as if amused by his reaction. "Only someone who has courted or been courted by one of the crane folk would know that bit about the stars and the sunrise. And of course there is the fact that Aric, who seems to be very possessive of his mate, has been trying so hard to get the two of us together. Almost as if he were trying to get rid of a rival, don't you think?"

Ash flushed and hung his head. "I wasn't really a rival," he mumbled. "We were...together...only once. I was just trying to comfort Takeshi after Aric's family betrothed him to some pureblood girl. To him it was only a...a night of stargazing. He doesn't know how I feel. Felt."

"That doesn't surprise me," Tsubasa sighed. "For such an intelligent young man, my cousin can be rather dense in matters of the heart. I'm happy that he's settled down with Aric, but you should have met some of his past lovers..." Tsubasa sighed again and shook his head.

Ash thought it was just as well that he hadn't met any of Takeshi's other lovers. "Please don't tell him," Ash begged. "It would only make him feel bad that he hurt me, and it wasn't his fault. And it's all in the past now, honest. I cared for him, but I knew that we weren't meant to be lifemates. It hurt a little to see him get together with Aric, but I was happy to see him so happy. I've moved on. I'm a wolf; we live in the present and we don't waste our time moping over the past. I want you, Tsubasa, not Takeshi."

"You are a wolf, but you are also human, Ash," Tsubasa replied, the look in his eyes sympathetic but still a little skeptical. "Can you honestly say that you never dwell on the past? I have spent some time with your pack--not enough to claim that I know them well, but enough to say that some of them still mourn their past lives before they were turned."

Ash bit his lip in consternation, knowing that Tsubasa was right about that, at least. Ash still had bitter thoughts from time to time about his childhood and the family he had fled from. "That's different," he said lamely. "That has nothing to do with me and Takeshi."

"I know that you believe you are speaking the truth," Tsubasa said. "But I am not sure that you truly believe it deep in your heart. I like you well enough to spend a night of stargazing with you without hesitation, if that was all you wanted. But you are asking for something more, so I must be certain of your heart before I can watch the sunrise with you. My people mate for life, and we do not give our hearts lightly."

Ash stared at him helplessly, feeling tongue-tied and unable to find the words to convince Tsubasa that he really was telling the truth. While Ash was struggling inwardly, Tsubasa turned away, pulling his kimono back on. "Take some time and think it over," Tsubasa said. "As I said, when you can answer my question, then I shall answer yours." He smiled, but it was the polite and remote smile of a casual acquaintance, not a potential lover. "I'll be busy at Hogwarts this weekend, but I'll see you again at the usual time for your lesson next Monday."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

After Ash left, looking confused and a little angry, Tsubasa leaned against the wall and sighed, feeling shakier than he had let on to Ash; it had been foolish of him to tease a werewolf. Ash had been pursuing him, but with a shyness and diffidence that he hadn't expected of a wolf, and Tsubasa had tired of dancing around and finally, had deliberately provoked Ash by taking off his kimono. He found the werewolf attractive, but he hadn't expected his body to respond so strongly to the touch of Ash's hand and mouth; for one insane moment, he had seriously contemplated having sex with Ash right there in the classroom.

That loss of control was a sign that Ash might very well be destined to be his mate, a thought that both excited and frightened Tsubasa. He ought to be thrilled; it was every young crane's dearest wish to find his or her soulmate, but things were more complicated than that, because Ash was not a crane. If they fell in love and it didn't work out, Ash could move on, but Tsubasa would be bound to him forever. On the other hand, if it didn't work out, then it probably meant that Ash wasn't really his soulmate.

Tsubasa had also been exaggerating somewhat when he had told Ash that he was "only average in looks". He was considered to be quite handsome by his fellow cranes, although there were a few others in the clan who were so stunningly beautiful that they made him look almost plain by comparison--including his nemesis Kazuhiko-sama, at least when he wasn't contorting his lovely features by scowling at Tsubasa for not behaving like a proper crane should. But beauty was only skin deep, as the saying went, and Tsubasa wanted to be loved for more than his beauty. Because of his looks, he had been very popular as a student at Salem, and he had found the attention flattering at first. But it had not been so flattering when he had realized that his admirers weren't really interested in him, but were only dazzled by his pretty face. He wanted to be certain that what Ash felt was more than simple lust and infatuation--or misplaced affection for Takeshi--before he considered entering into a relationship with the werewolf.

Tsubasa sighed again. Well, there was no need to rush into things. There was plenty of time for Ash to work out his true feelings, plenty of time for the two of them to get to know each other before they decided if they were meant to be lifemates or just friends.

At least, Tsubasa's head knew that there was plenty of time; his libido was a good deal more impatient. But the grueling training that he had undergone with the tengu had taught him discipline; the crow people liked to joke and play around, and sometimes seemed frivolous to outsiders, but they were deadly serious when it came to the arts of weaponry and warfare. So instead of running after Ash as he wanted, Tsubasa decided to go back to his quarters and take a cold shower.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ash hurried from the classroom, feeling confused and frustrated, going over Tsubasa's words in his head. Was he really only using Tsubasa as a substitute for Takeshi? He had never stopped to think about it up until now. His inner wolf had been instantly drawn to Tsubasa from the moment they had met, and Ash had followed his instincts without question. If he'd thought about it at all, it was only to feel relieved that he could have these feelings for someone other than Takeshi, someone single and available. Ash didn't really care for tales of star-crossed lovers like the one about Lancelot and Guinevere in the old book of King Arthur stories he had read as a child. He had never been much of a romantic, and he had thought that it was stupid to waste time pining over someone who could never be yours; it was better to find someone else that you could be with. Of course, he had ended up pining over Takeshi for a bit, but even then, he had assumed that he would eventually get over it--he'd certainly had no intention of trying to steal Takeshi from his rightful mate, or alternately, spending the rest of his life in celibacy mourning his lost love. He had wished Takeshi well, mourned for a few months, and then gotten on with his life. He'd had a couple of casual affairs to take his mind off of things (although with limited success), and then begun looking for someone who could become his mate.

He had thought that perhaps he had found that person in Tsubasa, but could he be wrong? Was it merely lust and thwarted desire? Had he only projected his feelings for Takeshi onto Tsubasa because they looked alike? But despite the physical resemblance, Takeshi and his cousin were not really that similar in personality...

Lost in thought, Ash was not really watching where he was going, and as he rounded a corner, he walked right into a young student who was hurrying down the corridor; the girl exclaimed in surprise and dropped a cloth sack that she'd been carrying. "Oh, I'm sorry," Ash said, bending down to help her pick up the leaves that had spilled out of the sack.

"It's my fault, too," the girl said apologetically; she was about fourteen or fifteen, with a pretty, heart-shaped face and wavy chestnut hair. "Mr. Filch always tells us not to run in the halls." She smiled up at him, then her eyes widened in surprise.

Ash didn't really think much about her reaction; as the resident werewolf at the Ministry, he was used to people staring at him. He supposed that she probably recognized him from the Daily Prophet, and was surprised to encounter Arthur Weasley's pet werewolf (as some of the purebloods scornfully called him) at Hogwarts. She didn't look disdainful, though, only startled, and she politely said, "Thank you," as he placed the stray leaves back into the sack.

"You're welcome," Ash said, smiling at her in a distracted manner, then continued on his way. Something about the girl was disturbingly familiar, and after thinking about it for a moment, he realized that she looked a bit like his mother, Rosalind. Other than Great-Aunt Ernestine, he had never seen his Parker relatives much even after his mother had respectably married, and he had not kept track of how many cousins he had. He supposed it was possible that the girl might be a distant relative on the Parker side, but it didn't really matter, as he had no intention of renewing contact with his family, who would no doubt prefer that he remain dead to them, anyway. Besides, the girl might not even be a Parker; the resemblance might simply be a coincidence. After all, there must be plenty of girls with reddish-brown hair.

So Ash brushed the matter from his mind, being more concerned about his problems with Tsubasa. Since it was impossible to Apparate on the school grounds, he used the fireplace in Lukas's office to commute to and from Hogwarts for his lessons. He was hoping that his pack leader had already returned home, but Lukas was sitting at his desk going over some papers when Ash arrived.

"How did the lesson go?" Lukas asked with a smile. "Not well, judging by the look on your face."

Ash wasn't in the mood to discuss his lovelife right now, not even with his beloved pack leader and friend, so he simply said, "I thought that I was improving, but Tsubasa disarmed me with a surprise move, and I'm not sure how to counter it."

Lukas smiled at him knowingly and said, "Oh, I'm sure that you'll figure it out, Ash. You're new to this, after all. You'll be fine with a little more practice."

Ash flushed, catching the double meaning behind Lukas's words. It was certainly true that he had little experience with love. Sex, yes--but not love and romance. He wasn't sure that more "practice" would help, and how was he supposed to "practice," anyway, when Tsubasa wouldn't cooperate?

"I suppose you're right, Lukas," Ash sighed, not very confidently. Then before Lukas could question him further, Ash threw a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace and returned to his home in London.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Laura's heart was pounding with excitement, as she finally realized why her brother's picture looked so familiar. It was because it reminded her of the man she had just--quite literally--run into. Ash...something. She couldn't remember his last name, but she remembered seeing his picture in the Daily Prophet twice--once when he and Master Diggory had saved a child from a runaway Graphorn in Diagon Alley, and the second time when Arthur Weasley had hired him to work at the Ministry of Magic. It had caused quite an outcry in the wizarding world, because a werewolf had never worked at the Ministry before.

Surely it couldn't be a coincidence that he resembled the boy in the photograph; he had the same dark brown hair and angular face as Ethan, although the older man's hair was streaked with gray. And he had hazel eyes that were the exact same color as Laura's and her mother's. Surely it couldn't be a coincidence that this Ash was a werewolf, when her brother had supposedly been killed by one. Maybe Ethan hadn't died, after all! She didn't know why he had disappeared, but maybe he had been afraid that the Ministry would lock him up as a dangerous beast, or maybe he had run away because he was afraid that he might hurt his family during the full moon. The Wolfsbane Potion hadn't been invented back then, after all. Or maybe he had run away because he was ashamed, afraid that it would disgrace the family name if everyone knew that he was a werewolf. Maybe he had been trying to protect Mother and Father, not knowing how much they would mourn his death.

But she had to be certain that he was really her brother before she told her parents about him and got their hopes up. And she had been born after he disappeared; he might not even know that she existed, and would certainly think she was crazy if a strange girl came running up to him out of nowhere claiming to be his sister.

The corridor he had come from led straight to the Physical Defense classroom, which was where Laura had been heading in the first place, so she ran down the hall and this time she nearly ran into Professor Tsubasa.

"Be careful, Miss Madley," he said as he reached out to place his hands on her shoulders and steady her so that she didn't fall. "Why are you in such a rush?"

"Oh!" Laura gasped breathlessly. "Professor Sprout asked me to bring you these hyssop leaves." She held up the sack that she was carrying. "She said that you wanted them to make a bruise remedy for your Physical Defense students."

"I did, and thank you," Tsubasa said, taking the sack from her. "But it wasn't really urgent." He smiled and added, "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but there was no need to risk life and limb running through Hogwarts to bring them to me."

Laura blushed at his gentle teasing, and admitted, "Oh, that wasn't really why I was running, although I was bringing you the leaves. I...I bumped into a man coming down this corridor. A man with long gray and brown hair...I think he works for the Ministry...do you know him?"

"Yes, that would be Mr. Randolf," Tsubasa replied. "He's a friend of mine; I've been giving him fencing lessons in my spare time." He raised an eyebrow. "And why were you running from Mr. Randolf? He is a werewolf, but that's no reason to fear--"

"I wasn't running from him," Laura hastily assured her teacher. "I was coming to see you. I...you see...I think I know him. I mean, I don't know him personally, but...I think...I think we might be related. He...resembles someone in my family very much."

"I see," Tsubasa murmured, staring at Laura closely, perhaps looking for some resemblance between herself and his friend. "I know that many of the werewolves are estranged from their biological families..."

"I don't know exactly what happened, but they think he's dead!" Laura said earnestly. "If he really is who I think he is, they would be so happy to know that he's alive!"

"Would they?" Tsubasa asked cynically. "Many families pretend that their werewolf relatives are deceased, to explain their absence to neighbors and acquaintances after they have disowned the werewolf and driven him or her away from home..."

"It's not like that!" Laura insisted. "They really do think that he's dead! So I can't tell them about Mr. Randolf until I know for sure that he's really my...that he's really the person I'm thinking of." She wasn't sure why she didn't want to tell Professor Tsubasa that she thought Ash Randolf was her brother. She felt a little awkward discussing something so personal with a teacher she barely knew, but mostly she was afraid to speak the words aloud, as if doing so might make them not true, like breaking a spell, although she knew that she was probably being silly.

"Please, Professor," Laura begged. "If I write a letter, will you take it to your friend and arrange a meeting with him?"

Tsubasa frowned, looking troubled. "Well...if you give me the letter, I will take it to him," he said reluctantly. "But it will be up to Mr. Randolf as to whether he wants to meet you or not."

"Thank you, Professor!" Laura exclaimed. "I'll go write the letter right now!"
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"Bring it to my office when you're done," Tsubasa said. Hopefully, he'd be done showering by the time she finished writing it, although with the way her eyes were shining with excitement, that might be hoping for too much. "If I'm not there, just slip it under the door." When she stared at him anxiously, he added, "I promise that I'll go back to my office and pick it up this evening. But I need to get cleaned up before dinner." He gestured at his sweat-stained clothing.

"Oh, of course, Professor," Laura said. "Thank you so much!" And then she ran off in the direction of the Hufflepuff dormitory; Tsubasa hoped that she didn't run into--or run over--anyone else along the way.

He couldn't help but feel that all this boded ill for both himself and Ash, and probably Laura as well. Now he would have to face Ash again, much sooner than he had planned, when they were still both feeling aroused and confused. But more importantly, he couldn't picture a happy family reunion resulting from Laura's letter. Every member of Lukas's pack had been cast out by their families, and he doubted that Ash was an exception. He was tempted to refuse to deliver the letter, or to simply throw it away, but then Laura would probably seek Ash out on her own, and he thought it would be better to give Ash some warning before an estranged family member turned up on his doorstep. Besides, he had no right to make such a decision; it was up to Ash to decide whether or not he wanted to see his family.

Well, first things first. If he was going to see Ash tonight, he was definitely going to need a cold shower.

Chapter 5

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