23 August 2012
9:00pm, Thursday
Hopworts Brewing Co., London

"No, no," Savvina Katopodis insisted in her light Greek accent, "listen to me. Listen."

She was smiling and touching her fingers to her throat. She was at the high-top table in one of the arched nooks at magical Hopworts. She was trying to explain the difference between two Gobbledegook sounds to pitifully monolingual Oscar Truemane, an English wizard in his forties, and fellow werewolf. "No, here, it will help if you feel it."

She reached for his hand and replaced her fingers on her voicebox with his. She uttered the two words, with eyebrows raised.

"Bresh. Bressh. Do you see? Do you feel the difference? Agh!" The smile on his face told her he did not, and he wailed with good-natured defeat.

"Hogwarts didn't offer it!" Oscar said with an exaggerated shrug. "I didn't speak until I was four! I never had a chance."

Savvina sat back and stifled her own smile with a drink from her glass. A little more than a week ago, she'd been suddenly and unexpectedly, and finally released from Ministry custody where she'd lived in limbo since December. She was by no means rid of the situation; there were proceedings to come and supervision to endure. Albeit under the Ministry's watchful eye, Savvina Katopodis was free. And this time, she wasn't on her own.

Hopworts was busy tonight, the sort of happy bustle that made her entire shift fly by in an instant. With the warm summer weather, the little yard out back was filled to the brim with chatter, barely deafened by the sound of the trains that rumbled by every now and again on the track overhead.

Inside, the cool gray stone that made up the floor and walls of the bricked-in railway arch kept the interior a bit on the chilly side despite the crowd. Saiorse had been kept on her feet for most of the night, but the past few months of work in narrow, increasingly popular quarters had made her nimble at squeezing between tables and dodging around the barrels. It was a curse and a blessing all at once: the growth of the little taproom since its opening ten months before kept them all on their toes.

"Ach!" A wizard had pushed his chair back to stand, and Saoirse narrowly dodged the too-sudden movement, laughing as she side-stepped around him. She kept her serving tray held high in the air, out of the way of unexpected jostling. It was the sort of small victory that made her grin, making it from one side of the crowded bar to the other with her refreshments still intact.

"I ought to use a Sticking Charm!" she proclaimed as she finally slipped up next to the table that housed her friends and fellow creatures. "Here, try this, then; 'tis new."

She passed two of the three frosted pint glasses along, one to each of the other werewolves. The glass outside was glacial cool to the touch, and the light golden beer inside looked almost sparkling, as if there were ice crystals threatening to form.

The third glass was for her: one of the benefits of working at a brewery where the owners didn't care much for decorum. "To Savvina," Saoirse proclaimed, flashing the other woman a wide grin as she lifted it in a toast. "Our long-lost 'wolf finally returned to walk among us once more!"

"Hear hear!" agreed Oscar, who raised his glass as well. It really felt like something to celebrate for all of them, for the whole werewolf community, especially those like him and Saoirse, unregistered and defiant. With everything that had been happening, they needed a win. And how relieving it was to have Savvina back safe.

"Γειά μας!" Savvina said in Greek, her smile as wide as young Saoirse's. She touched her glass to theirs, then placed her hand over her heart.

"And to the hospitality of our very good friends at the Werewolf Wing," she said with mocking sweetness, her head inclined just a touch.

Oscar guffawed. His helpful way and cheerful demeanor belied that he was one of those 'politically' unregistered werewolves.

Some might argue the derision undue, for there were important voices among that office who'd recommended no charges be filed against Savvina after all that had happened. Others might argue that months of isolation at the hands of an unjust system were not worthy the slightest bit of gratitude. No, Savvina was so light now that she no longer had to bow her head and fondle personalities for respite. She'd made herself so small, and surprised herself now with how much she recognized the witch in the mirror.

She drank deeply. "Mmm!" It was good.