Zugzwang

Will there really be a morning?

Is there such a thing as day?

Could I see it from the mountains

If I were as tall as they?

--Emily Dickinson

Third Week.

At four in the morning Remus was woken up by a painful stabbing in his arms. He opened his eyes, and all the sleepiness was taken away from him. Looking at him pitifully was Hermione, blood down her nightgown.

Remus stared briefly and then jumped into action. "It's all right, love," he assured her. "I'm going to ring for the Mediwitch." He opened the night table's drawer with such force than the glass on top of it toppled over and crashed to the floor.

Hermione looked like she wanted to object to the mess, but squirmed against her pillow in pain. She watched as Remus pulled out a small silver bell with an inscription on it in large, loopy letters. He rung it once and then once again and there was the sound of a whip crack and a plump woman in white was standing across from them.

"Oh, Mrs. Lupin!" she cried, running to Hermione's side and opening a large medical bag. "Yes, let's get all that blood out of there. Can you cough? Good, keep going. Mr. Lupin, if you could please bring Mrs. Lupin her cloak. I think we'd best take her to St. Mungo's."

Remus rushed downstairs, knocking into various pieces of furniture and making quite a racket. Julian poked his head outside the door, looking worried. "All right, dad?" he asked.

"Julian, go wake up Anthony and find something warm to wear. Your mother needs to be taken to the hospital, and I'll need to drop you off at... well, somewhere. Hurry," Remus ordered, having found Hermione's cloak and hurrying back up.

The Mediwitch had been taking Hermione's pulse and heartbeat and was assuring her that her lungs just need to be "rinsed out." "The fright is worse than the condition," she said warmly. "Right, Mr. Lupin, I'll be taking her now. Will you be joining us?"

"I need to drop the boys off first," Remus said. "Will you manage for the time, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded and gave another cough. She frowned at her state, and Remus knew she was trying to be brave.

"Off we go then," the Mediwitch said. She took out a pocket watch from the folds of her dress, twisted a knob, grabbed Hermione's shoulder and then they were gone.

"Where's mum?" Julian asked. Anthony was trailing behind him, rubbing his eyes and holding a maroon blanket.

"She was portkeyed to St. Mungo's. Both of you ready? Anthony, you look like the living dead. Let me think, where can I drop you two off?" Remus looked around the room expecting an answer.

"Uncle Ron's?" Julian offered.

"He's on night duty this month. If he were in the office, but he's working the field."

"Uncle Harry?"

"Er, perhaps as a last option."

"What about Auntie Ginny?" Anthony piped up. "Or Auntie Molly?"

Remus tapped his chin. "Yes, perhaps Molly. No, wait, she's off in Egypt visiting Bill. Bugger. Er, I didn't use that word." Julian smirked.

Anthony struggled to get on the bed and was about to snuggle down when he spotted a book his mother had been reading. It was worn out and smelly and he would have tried to go back to sleep while his father and brother thought, but the picture on the cover brought a memory to mind.

"Look," he said groggily, lifting the book, "it's Mr. Snape."

Julian snorted and pretended to look innocent. Remus nodded and smiled. "Good idea, Anthony. Come on, boys, we're going to visit Mr. Snape."

*

Anthony has easily been put to bed, but Julian was older and more worried for his mother. Instead, he was sitting in a large chair that had belonged to twenty-five generations of Snapes, a tomato soup left untouched on his lap.

Snape glared.

Julian glared back.

While Anthony looked more like Hermione, Julian looked more like his father. The facial features were all there, and while his colouring was the same as Hermione's, his hair was straight and almost... shaggy.

Snape was disgusted.

Julian didn't look too pleased himself.

"Uncle Ron talks a lot about you," the young boy finally said.

"Allow me to not be flattered," Snape drawled. His fingers were itching to be wrapped around a Whiskey glass.

"He says you were almost going to be my Godfather," Julian continued. The soup was losing its steam.

"Hardly," Snape said. "I am not close to either of your parents. Who is your godfather now? Weasley or Potter?"

"Uncle Ron is my godfather." Julian looked around. "Uncle Harry is a bit... loony."

Snape laughed, surprised at the boy's choice of words. "Potter has been through many dangers. You'd be a bit 'loony' yourself, boy."

Julian shrugged. "He doesn't talk much, but he lets me fly his broom. Mum always has a cow when I fly," he said. "My dad likes you."

"Pardon?" said Snape, who hadn't really been paying attention. Whatever happened to children needing their sleep?

"You said you weren't close to my parents, but my dad likes you," Julian explained. "He says you were able to help him be--" Here Julian seemed to be struggling for the right word. "--more him?"

Snape snorted. He wondered if Remus's sons knew about the werewolf. As must as he would have loved to indulge the boy, he was sure that Mrs. Lupin would have his balls for that, poisoned or not.

"Your mother did that," Severus settled for. "I just follow orders."

"Do you?" asked Julian. "Most people do, don't they? My parents give me orders. My mother receives orders from the Ministry. And... my father receives orders from my mother."

Snape laughed. His fingers twitched again. "Aren't you tired?" he asked.

Julian shrugged. It was a habit that annoyed Snape. "I'm worried about my mum," Julian said, dipping a piece of bread into the cold soup. "Nobody says anything, but I know she's very ill."

"She is," Snape agreed. "Since we're both awake, let me show you something." He stood up, called a House-elf to pick up the bowl of soup and walked Julian to a separate room.

Julian followed obediently and was surprised to see the huge laboratory that had been set up. All sorts of potions were set up on shelves and cauldrons were boiling substances of different colours. The smell of the place was intoxicating.

"This," said Snape, as they stood in front of a small cauldron with a bubbly purple liquid, "is an attempt at your mother's cure." He took a pinch of red powder and threw it in. Much to Julian's disappointment, however, there were no explosions or wisps of smoke.

"Does it work?" Julian asked, standing on his toes to take a better look.

"Your mother's health will tell us that, but I am somewhat confident in my skills," Snape said. "I don't suppose you inherited your mother's potion skills?"

Julian shrugged, and Snape's fingers twitched viciously. "Mum says I'm a lot like my dad," Julian said in way of explanation.

"Then perhaps you should step away from the cauldron before you tip it over," Snape suggested. He stirred the potion for a bit, and then went to cut some ingredients that Julian didn't know the name of.

Bored and with nothing to do, Julian sat down on a stool and watched Snape work. His mother made potions every now and then, but it didn't seem to be the same. He wondered if he'd be good at making them. He couldn't wait until he started at Hogwarts.

When Snape was done he washed his hands and eyed Julian curiously. "Why aren't you asleep yet?" he asked, sounding almost disappointed.

Julian shrugged again.

"I thought you had some sort of school in the morning... er, ish," continued Snape. In his old age he was losing his ability to introduce fear.

"Only if dad comes back," replied Julian. "Besides, it's not as if I learn anything important, only numbers and letters."

"Of course, nothing important," Snape said, using sarcasm that was lost on the young boy.

"Mum only sends us because she wants us to play with Muggles," Julian said.

"Yes, well, perhaps if Voldemort's mother had lived to try that technique," muttered Snape dryly.

*

Dumbledore's Gardens were indeed the most gorgeous that anyone had ever seen. They were filled with exotic and common species of plants alike, all placed in a magical habitat to mirror their place of origin. Stone paths had been fit in to twirl around the sites and adorable wooden benches had been built for a nice break.

Harry and Hermione walked side by side, both dressed in Muggle clothes. Harry was carrying a rather large picnic basket, cliché in appearance, but filled with an assortment of foods baked by Mrs. Weasley. Hermione had a pretty shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

"You really must get someone to clean your house, Harry," Hermione said, continuing the discussion they had been having. "It's not... healthy to be withering in all that dust."

"I'm not withering," objected Harry childishly. "And my health is not of importance, is it?"

"I mean, it's a very nice house," Hermione assured him quickly, "but if you'd just let a bit of sunshine inside, dust the cobwebs away and perhaps add a bit of colour."

"I like my house," Harry said, batting away a butterfly. "There's nothing wrong with it."

"Ginny gets an allergy every time she visits!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well, maybe she'd catch the clue, and--"

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione snapped. "That is absolutely horrid. Ginny has been nothing but kind to visit you."

"Relax, Hermione, before you die right there. I don't need Ginny to take care of me, and I especially don't need Cho to do it either," Harry said, sitting down on a bench and patting the space next to him.

"Harry, since the battle with Voldemort you haven't... well, you haven't--"

"What, Hermione?"

Hermione blushed. "You haven't moved on, have you? You act like an utter Scrooge and you never seem to be truly happy," she explained.

"Just because I didn't get married and have children," snapped Harry.

"Oh, don't be clever with me. You wanted to be an Auror, but you didn't even try out in the end, did you? I know you didn't want to live in Sirius's old house, and I can't blame you, but that ghastly little cottage you chose is depressing."

"You sound like Molly," Harry said, but he was smiling.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. "I love you," she said. "And you deserve better than loneliness."

"So does Remus," said Harry, leaning back and closing his eyes.

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"When you die, he'll be lonely, too," Harry explained, looking at her. "And I'll be even more so."

"I won't die," Hermione said stubbornly. A swan glided across the lake as if it were in some sort of ballet.

Harry sighed. "That's what I said to myself, but..."

"Professor Snape is coming up with an antidote," Hermione said. "I won't die."

The swan swam to shore, pecking here and there for lost crumbs. It eyed the two humans curiously.

"He's trying to make an antidote," corrected Harry. "Listen, Hermione, I told myself that you were going to survive this, but look at you. You look just as depressing as my house." Hermione laughed. "And you're visiting St. Mungo's practically every day now."

"I won't die," Hermione repeated through gritted teeth.

Harry decided to let it go. Instead he took out a piece of bread and threw it at the swan. It hit it squarely on the head and the bird gave an indignant honk.

"God, don't make it angry," Hermione scolded. "Those things attack."

"I thought it was geese that attacked," said Harry, throwing another bit of bread.

"Hrm, perhaps."

The swan eyed Harry furiously and approached the bench.

"Er, Hermione," Harry said.

"What, don't look at me." Hermione was inching away from him. "You were the one that attacked it."

"Do you think it knows that?" Harry asked as the swan lifted it wings and honked angrily. "I think we better run."

The swan attacked.

*

Fourth Week.

Tonks gave Remus his tea and sat down. Hermione had been sent to the hospital again, and Tonks had offered to take care of the boys while Remus kept Hermione company. At the moment, Hermione's parents were with her and Remus had arrived for only a minute to make sure the boys were behaving.

"Last time Harry took her out she came back with bruises," Remus said. They had been discussion had turned from Anthony's sudden Puddlemere United obsession to whether or not Hermione should leave the house more often.

Tonks looked worried. "Bruises?" she asked.

Remus shrugged. "Apparently they got attacked by a swan." Tonks laughed. "I'm afraid if she spends time outside the poison will move quicker," Remus added.

Tonks pulled her orange hair into a ponytail. "You can't keep her locked in, though. Has Severus given her the antidote yet?" she said.

Remus nodded. "He said to watch her over the week, but I don't think she's improving."

Tonks was about to try to lighten his mood, when Ron suddenly appeared in the kitchen. He smiled at them. "All right, Remus?" he asked. And then looking at Tonks curiously, "Tonks?"

Perhaps the reason why Ron hadn't recognized her on the spot was because, instead of sporting a shocking hair colour and distinct facial features, Tonks had a pretty low cut of orange hair, blue eyes and various freckles on her face.

Tonks glared. "Too Weasley for you?" she snarled.

Remus snickered into his tea.

"Er, no, it's... lovely," Ron said, giving her a nervous smile. "Is that a doughnut?"

"Help yourself," offered Remus. "Excuse Nymphadora. Anthony and Julian wore her out today."

"Fifty two transformations," Tonks complained, forking a loose pea. "I had orange hair seven times!"

Remus patted her hand. "I should get back to the hospital," he said, getting up. "I shouldn't have left Hermione that long."

Ron looked at his watch. "I'll come with you. There's something I'd like to give Hermione, and if I just leave it here you'll never give it to her."

Tonks stared at the files he was carrying. "That isn't from work, is it?" she said. "She can't be stressed, Ron."

Ron smirked. "If anything will make her feel better, it's this," he promised. "Where are Anthony and Julian? Isn't it a bit too quiet?"

Remus paled and looked as if he was about to dash about the stairs. Tonks sighed. "I'll go check," here she gave him a look, "but you so owe me. There's a reason I don't want children, you know!"

"I thought that was because you couldn't get a bloke to settle down," Ron teased, leaving before Tonks could chuck something at him.

There was a slight crash from above and a drop of water fell on Tonks's nose. Slightly panicked, she hurried upstairs, taking two steps at a time.

*

"Uh," said Remus. "Pardon?"

Mr. Howells placed down the new order of books and tried to smile. "I'm sorry, Remus, but this isn't... quite working out, is it? You're never here."

"I know, but Hermione has been really ill," Remus tried to explain. "Mr. Howells, please, I'm the only one with a job at the moment."

"And with two small mouths to feed," Howells added knowingly. ("Hardly small," muttered Remus.) "But I have to think about the business."

Remus wanted to ask what business, but thought the wiser. "Just give me one more chance," he begged. "I'll do anything! I'll... sweep!"

Mr. Howells sighed. "I'm sorry, Remus, really I am. Look, here, this is my brother's address up in Rhyl. Perhaps he'll be able to offer you something. I'll give in a good word," he said, scratching the back of his thick neck. "Sorry, mate."

Remus left the shop in a sour mood. If he returned home saying that he had been fired, Hermione would get into a fit. Alone he was barely making money to meet ends. Julian and Anthony couldn't pass hunger like he had learned to. The house needed to keep having electricity and water and gas and other things that the Muggles made expensive. He needed to find a job now.

Hermione was in the kitchen when he came home, late in the evening because he planned on lying about his day. She was wrapped warmly but looked just as pale and miserable as she did every day. The boys were helping her around the kitchen, bickering as they did so.

"Remus!" she greeted, giving him a kiss that made Julian pull a face. Anthony burrowed himself in Remus's cloak. "How was your day?"

"Chipper," he answered, keeping the sarcasm out.

"Julian, go fetch the glasses," Hermione ordered. Turning to Remus, she continued, "Seamus invited us to his house in Cork. He says it's lovely this time of year, and the fresh air might do both of us some good. He has to go to Brazil on a business trip, but the housekeeper will be there for us. He suggested three weeks after the next full moon."

The wheels in Remus's head started turning. The next full moon was only five days away.

"The boys won't be able to come, of course. Except on the weekends. I don't want them to miss school," Hermione said. "Ginny said she wouldn't mind them staying with her during the week, and then on Friday evening she'd send them by portkey. Doesn't it sound like a nice idea, Remus?"

The bulb in Remus's head turned on. "I really can't afford to go for three weeks, love," he began. "Work has me up in flutters. Cork does sound like it'd welcome you, so what if you go with Harry? I can take care of the boys and then we can all visit on the weekends."

Hermione seemed a bit put off by the idea, but Remus knew that Hermione was intelligent and their income was their first priority. "Harry would like that. I'll send him an owl tomorrow morning. Remus," she finally said. "Also, there's something I'd like to discuss." She closed the kitchen door so the boys wouldn't overhear and that frightened Remus a bit.

"Seamus sent me a bit of... legal advice," she began. "He says that if I," here she frowned, "die, the Ministry will give you a lot of trouble regarding your parenting rights."

Even though this came as a shock to Remus, it shouldn't have. Werewolves were regarded as bad parents and a single werewolf father would not gain favours in the court.

"I won't die," Hermione continued stubbornly, "but I thought that just in case, perhaps Seamus had a point. He says I should draw up a will that gives you the sole custody of Julian and Anthony."

"We already have a will," Remus pointed out.

"Yes, but that's in the case of both ours deaths, and we hand over the children to Ron." Hermione's bottom lip trembled and she blinked several times before continuing. "Tomorrow Seamus is coming over so I can rewrite it saying that in the case of my death you gain the sole custody of our sons and Ron will be the supervisor if the court finds any reluctance." She stopped to wipe her face. "Apparently a dead witch's words are more valuable than a court."

Remus only nodded. "You won't--I thought--" He hugged her as she burst into tears. "Please don't cry," he begged. "I know how insensitive that sounds, but if you fall apart..."

"I don't want to die," Hermione whispered. "I have so much here. I don't want to die."

"We'll get through this," assured Remus, rocking her gently. "Has the antidote made--"

"Nothing," Hermione said. "I'm the same as I was two weeks ago."

The kitchen door slid open and a suspicious-looking Julian came in. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Hermione wiped her tears away and gave a shaky smile. "Are you hungry? I made spaghetti."

Julian scowled. "Yeah, I'm starving," he muttered, heading back to the table.

"He shouldn't have to suffer because of this," Hermione said angrily. "It's not fair on him."

Remus rubbed her back, giving her a small kiss on the shoulder. "He's strong but angry. If anyone can balance that out, it's Julian," he promised.