Holy Need

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Chapter Three

Holy Need

September 20, 2003

Ministry of Magic, London...Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic has just announced the passing of Ministry decree number twenty-eight for the restriction and regulation of werewolves in Great Britain and Northern Ireland. This is the twelfth such decree made in the last year in response to the series of brutal werewolf attacks as reported in the Daily Prophet. Decree number twenty-eight states that no werewolf residing in Ministry jurisdiction shall apply for or be granted license to marry in the interest of keeping the apparently booming population of werewolves in check. It is as of yet unknown if the lycanthropy virus can be transmitted sexually or from mother to fetus, but the Ministry views the decree as a necessary safeguard against any possible further transmission of the virus.

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock as she read the Prophet article. The cafe was filled with the Saturday morning bustle of witches and wizards conversing over many cups of strong tea and coffee, recovering from their respective Friday nights, but the headline of the Prophet that Roman dropped in her lap was enough to hold her undivided attention.

'I don't believe this. How did we not see this coming?'

'I don't know.'

'What are we going to do?'

'What can we do, Hermione? Uriah has no interest in pushing the issue of these decrees.'

'Public demonstration?'

'Too time consuming. Speaking of which, we need to get back to the place to check on the stuff for the you-know-what.'

Hermione laughed.

'You're right, just let me finish my tea and we'll go.'

As Hermione leaned forward to grab her cup, movement in the periphery of her vision caught her eye.

Outside the window of the cafe stood Severus Snape.

Hermione let out a little shriek and dropped her cup, which clattered noisily to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere and drawing the attention of the entire cafe.

'Dammit! Evanesco...'

'Hermione, are you all right?' asked Roman.

Hermione looked back towards the window. There was no one there. Now the proprietor was coming over to them.

'You!' he shouted, pointing at Roman. 'Out! Now! You're lucky I don't call the Aurors!'

'Hey, take it easy,' he replied. 'I was just stopping in to speak to my friend here. We were just leaving...'

'Well, see that you make quick about it. I don't care who your friends are ... there are laws protecting us from your kind, see?'

'Come on,' said Hermione, taking Roman by the arm. 'It's not worth it.'

Outside, Hermione had to jog to keep pace with Roman as he marched away.

'Roman ... Roman, wait!'

'I'm sick of this, Hermione! I'm just plain sick ... I can't keep doing this!'

'I know, Roman ... I know, just...'

'You know? You don't know anything! I can't work, I can't get a place to live ... I couldn't even spend money if I wanted to ... and now I can't even get bloody, fucking married! And you tell me you know! You know nothing, Hermione, NOTHING!'

Hermione was brought up short. She had never seen Roman so upset. Still...

'Nothing? I know nothing? Let me tell you about nothing, Roman. I'm twenty-four years old and I have spent over half my life trying to stop maniacs from killing my friends. I have devoted my life to trying to help anyone who ever got raw deal from the establishment, AND I WAS ALMOST BLOODY MURDERED FOR THE EFFORT! So you can't work, you can't marry and you can't go into a cafe without getting chucked out...you still have a place to sleep at night and friends who love you...SO STOP FEELING SO DAMNED SORRY FOR YOURSELF!'

She panted, her tirade exhausted. Roman's eyes were wide. After a moment...

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you,' she said.

Hermione sighed and relaxed her stance somewhat that she now realized looked more than a little combative.

'It's okay,' he replied, smiling hesitantly. 'Hermione, you really are scary, you know.'

Hermione rolled her eyes.

'I know.'

They walked on together, seeking out a place to discreetly Apparate. Finding an alleyway behind a row of shops, they stopped.

'Are you sure you're up for this? Apparition after a splinch...'

'I'll be fine. I managed to get here, didn't I?'

'Are you sure? You looked pretty jumpy there for a moment back in the cafe ... what was that about, anyway?'

'Nothing. I just thought I saw a ghost, is all.'

'Hermione, you know you can't see ghosts outside...'

'I was being figurative, Roman, there's no need to be didactic. I must have seen someone who looked like someone I knew once.'

'So you're absolutely sure you're all right?'

'Roman!'

'Okay, okay ... just have a care, would you? Do you have any idea what that lot would do to me if...'

Hermione Disapparated.

---

Knockturn Alley's old candle making district was a dingy place, thickly walled with warehouses now abandoned or converted into dismal tenements, brothels and places of questionable business. Hermione and Roman Apparated into an alleyway between a set of extremely shabby flats and a seedy looking pub. After walking a short ways down a street lined with broken glass and brick facades, they stopped in front of a large, faded sign for the Brisnel Tallow Company.

Hermione removed her wand and tapped gently on the sign.

'Furry little problem,' she said.

Immediately the sign dissolved and a doorway appeared. They went inside.

'Remus? Are you still here?' she called, placing her cloak on the back of one of the chairs surrounding an enormous, rough-hewn wooden table. Nearby, a kettle of water bubbled away on a large stove.

'Just a moment,' Remus replied, appearing from behind a curtained partition, wiping his hands on an industrial smock.

'The base, Remus?' she asked.

'Coming,' he replied, rummaging through a large cupboard. 'I'm low on...'

'Monkshood ... I know, I just stopped by the lab. Here you go...' Hermione removed a jar from her cloak pocket and tossed it to Remus, who caught it mid stride and disappeared behind the curtain again.

As the kettle boiled, the door swung open and Ginny and Ron entered. Roman began setting out mismatched cups while Hermione made the tea. Remus reappeared a moment later, much relieved, and greeted Ginny and Ron warmly, removing his smock and hanging it on a peg by the door.

'Ron, I didn't expect to see you here today,' said Remus.

'Yeah, well, I had some time off coming, and what with everything that happened yesterday...'

'Good man. It'll be nice to have the extra hands. Hi, Ginny.'

'Hello, Remus,' she replied, taking the pot from Hermione and pouring out as everyone began to take seats at the table. When everyone was seated and sipping on their brew, Remus brought everyone up to speed.

'I've got five cauldrons of base going, but I think Hermione is going to have to take a look at number two. It's off.'

'Right. What color is it?' she asked.

'Blue.'

'Blue?'

'Right, then. Shall we get at it?' Remus said in a somewhat tellingly overconfident tone.

'Remus,' began Roman, 'do you want to discuss the new decree at all?'

Remus's smile only faltered for a moment.

'Well, we can't really perform marriages, so I doubt we'll see an increase...'

'That's not what I meant,' Roman interrupted.

'I know what you meant. What do you want me to say?' asked Remus, wearily rubbing the bridge of his nose.

'Actually,' said Ginny, 'I think they're only barring licenses issued in the UK. I think they still have to recognize marriages formed outside the country...'

'Yeah, that's right!' added Ron. 'You and Tonks could go to Paris.'

Remus blushed scarlet.

'This isn't about Dora and I. She has decided ... we think it would be best if we didn't for the time being,' Remus stammered out apologetically.

'Oh, Remus...' said Hermione. 'Are you sure? I mean...'

'She needs her job. I need her job,' he added bitterly.

Hermione nodded in understanding.

'Well then,' said Roman. 'Unless anyone has any further items of business to discuss, we ought to get started.'

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Eldred Worple rubbed his small, pudgy hands together in the night air and pushed his wire-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose again. His feet made short little strides as he walked briskly down Diagon Alley. The shops were all closed, giving the place a feel of a carnival after hours. The rubbish of the day still littered the streets and the smells of its inhabitants were not quite faded from the air.

As he stepped onto a dingy side street, he saw her. His mark.

She had her back to him as she locked and warded the shop doors she emerged from.

Carefully withdrawing the blade from his cloak, he advanced on her. Her stature was slight. He would not have any difficulty overpowering her. Eldred's only concern was having enough time to slit her throat before Magical Law Enforcement arrived.

He muffled his footsteps with a spell and increased his pace. She remained a yard ahead of him, but he was closing quickly. Eldred held the damascus blade high. She turned slightly and caught movement in the periphery of her vision. She screamed. With a crude motion the blade came down, plunging into her collarbone. She lost her footing and the blade withdrew. Knife still in hand, Eldred stepped firmly on her leg and wrenched her torso upwards, dislocating her hip. Her screams intensified as he renewed his grip on her arm and with one quick motion, drew the blade across her throat, blood spattering the lapels of his robes.

The screaming stopped.

---

The shelter door opened with a deafening screech as Tonks entered, throwing her cloak unceremoniously towards the stand behind the door.

It fell over. Cursing under her breath, she righted the stand and began to retrieve the scattered cloaks and umbrellas.

It was a rare thing to bring good news to the shelter, and more often than not this fact was reflected in the slow creaking of the door announcing the comings and goings of the tenants and staff. It was useful in this capacity so no one bothered about it.

Harry, it so happened, had good news to share and threw open the shelter door quickly. It slammed into Tonks' face as she stood from righting the umbrella stand. Her nose broke spectacularly.

Roman laughed. Tonks glared at him as she bled and swore with equal profusion and familiarity.

'Are you all right?' Harry asked.

Tonks shifted her glare to Harry.

'May I?' he asked.

Tonks nodded and Harry leveled his wand at her nose, silently setting the bone.

'Handy spell, that,' he said with a wry smile.

'I'll say,' she replied, as she worked the muscles of her face.

Harry was surprised, as he looked around, to see everyone gathered in the main room. He had been under the impression they were significantly behind in brewing the Wolfsbane since Hermione's attack.

'D'you all finish already?' he asked, pouring a cup for himself from the pot on the table. 'I thought you were supposed to be helping Hermione.'

Ron and Remus continued their chess game. Ginny smiled wryly as Roman set down his newspaper.

Without further explanation, he disappeared behind the curtained partition, behind which someone was whispering curses over the sound of bubbling and clinking cauldrons. A moment later, Hermione's voice exploded over the room.

'GET. OUT. OF. MY. LAB! DO YOU WANT THIS DONE TONIGHT OR NOT?'

Roman shot out from behind the curtains with a grin.

'Ah,' replied Harry, sagely.

'So what in the name of Merlin's under-shorts possessed you to burst in here like that?' asked Tonks, Scourgifying the last of the blood off her robes.

'Well, shortly after you left the office to attend to your all important umbrella-dispatching duties...'

'Oh, sod off...'

'...a call came in that the person responsible for cutting up all those people was going to kill again this evening. Sure enough, when we Apparated to the location we were given, we caught the guy having just slit a woman's throat, blood all over him and the knife still in his hand.'

Various murmurs of shock and surprise went around the table. Roman let out a low whistle.

'So who did it?' Ginny asked.

Harry's smile was humourless.

'Eldred Worple.'

The others stared at him blankly. A crash, followed by a great deal of swearing came from behind the curtain which was unceremoniously thrust aside by Hermione, face framed by a wild mane of frizz, exacerbated by the humidity of five boiling cauldrons.

'WHAT?' she asked.

'I thought you'd remember him,' said Harry.

'But he ... that can't be right, can it? He's just so...'

'Yeah, he's a fat, balding middle aged man with all the personality of a social disease, but he's our man all right.'

'I thought the man that attacked me was taller. What on earth would have possessed Worple to do something like that?'

'When we picked him up he was babbling all about vampires, and his 'immortal brotherhood' or some nonsense. I think his work went to his head. The guy is completely delusional. He confessed to all eighteen murders when we picked him up.'

Hermione sat down heavily in an empty chair.

'I suppose it makes sense,' said Remus. 'Vampires and werewolves have never been great allies...'

'And here I thought Uriah and I had made such a breakthrough,' said Roman sadly.

Hermione let out a very unladylike snort.

'Is someone planning on explaining who Eldred Worple is?' asked Tonks.

'He's an author...a biographer. He wrote a lot of celebrity memoirs. About seven years ago he lived with the vampire conclave in the Cotswolds. He wrote a book about his experiences that read like a love letter to Count Dracula. He tried to get Harry to give him his story a few times afterwards, but he never published again. A couple of years later he disappeared completely. No one heard from him again but I guess no one really troubled themselves about it. A lot of people went missing during the war,' explained Hermione.

'...So the guy got a little too into his work and started fancying himself a vampire, is that it?' asked Ginny.

'Something like that,' said Harry. 'Someone did call anonymously with the information, so we aren't ruling out conspiracy. Still, it seems strange for the Ministry to contradict its own order not to release the evidence against werewolf involvement only to frame Worple for the job...'

'So, does this mean we won't be followed anymore?' asked Roman.

Harry shrugged.

'Not much call for it now,' he replied.

'Well,' said Remus, 'it looks like we have a reason to celebrate after all. How is the potion coming, Hermione?'

'It needs to simmer for another hour.'

'Right. Dora, bring out the crystal. I've a bottle of Greta's somewhere around here for just such an occasion...'

'Blech,' exclaimed Tonks, dutifully setting out mismatched highballs.

'Now, now,' defended Roman, 'Greta makes a lovely product...all of the hangover of champagne with none of the taste.'

A dusty bottle was produced from under the sink. With comic flourish Remus removed the bottle cap and poured a measure into everyone's glass.

'Ugh, it's warm,' said Ginny.

'This brings back memories, eh, Ron?' said Harry, swallowing with a grimace. 'Remember that bottle we snuck back to Privet Drive on my seventeenth?'

Ron and Hermione chuckled.

'I don't know,' said Ron, taking a contemplative sip, 'I think this vintage is a better month.'

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