As far as headteachers offices go, this one was remarkable less boring than most. It wasn't a white washed box of a room, with neat filing cabinets full of paperwork that held information on every single student in excruciating detail. There was no framed glass portrait of a pair of smiling, neatly groomed children who could only be the headteacher's children.
This office was circular with wood panelled walls, some which were engraved with mystical creatures. One box of paperwork sat in the corner which, if it were to be opened, transfigured into an entire library of information. Covering the walls were moving portraits of past headmasters and mistresses. Some slept whilst others chattered aimlessly between themselves. A couple of frames seemed abandoned, their occupants visiting other places.
A large fireplace took up a few metres of wall, its flames were not the ordinary reds and oranges that one might expect from the usual fireplace. Instead bright purple and blue flames burst from the burning logs. Once every few minutes the flames would form dancing figures that waltzed across the ashes. On special occasions the figures would dance the pasodoble.
The centre of the room housed a large oak desk which seemed thousands of years old yet brand new at the same time. Upon the desk were an assortment of fantastical objects which the ordinary person could never dream of seeing. A number of objects were so rare and obscure that many who lived in the wizarding world had only read about them as myths and dreamt them in their darkest daydreams.
Yet more interesting than the objects upon the desk were the wizard and witch who were seated opposite each other. The witch was a foreboding woman dressed all in green tartan. Her robes were finely made and beautifully tailored. Her dark brown hair was scraped tightly in into a neat bun which managed to give the impression that the woman was not to be trifled with, and indeed she was not. The only thing to soften her harsh features was the fond smile she gave to the wizard in front of her. Fond smiles suited the woman, suggesting she had a motherly affection and a deep empathetic ability.
The wizard had kinder, softer features and was a good deal younger than the woman. He had sandy hair which was turning grey at the temples, his hunched shoulders did not give the impression of bad posture but of a heavy weight that had settled on his shoulders giving him a defeatist attitude to life. His face and arms were covered in long deep scratches. Some were old and healed leaving tight pink scratches marring his face. Others were fresh and shining, glimmering wounds which appeared sore and painful. If he noticed them, no pain showed on his face and no attention was paid to them. On any other man the scars would look threatening and thuggish, on the wizard they made pity squeeze your heart. But despite the pitiful look about him, he gave off an aura of strength. His eyes portrayed a look of determination. Looking closer, they betrayed his past.
"Minerva," the wizard addressed the witch with a tone which suggested familiarity and friendship. "I appreciate that you are trying to help but I can't." his voice, smooth and melodic, was firm.
The witch, Minerva McGonnagol, sat up a little straighter in her chair and adjusted her glasses. Her countenance had lost the flatteringly fond smile that it had previously worn. Now, the same determined look that the man was mirrored in the older woman's face.
"I know that you think that this is charity but I can assure you, it is not. You are the best Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor this school has ever had. If the last few years have taught us anything it is that we need a teacher such as you."
The wizards jaw set in a picture of displeasure, outlining the strong jaw, long neck, and handsome face that was masked by the scars and haunted eyes. He leaned forward a little placing his weathered hands on the desk, pressing his long fingers into the ancient oak.
"I am a monster, Minerva, a dark creature. The board won't like it. The students won't like it. The parents will be in uproar. They want people like me put down like a diseased dog! You have to be pragmatic about this, Headmistress. It can't work."
McGonnagol lost her temper. Her Gryffindor temperament shining through her calm demeanour. A sharp retort was at her lips within seconds of the younger ans response.
"Remus Lupin!" she reprimanded, her voice a little louder. You are not a monster! You are a man, a kind, loving loving man." her voice softened a little as she remembered herself. "Never let me hear you say that again. The school board requested this meeting, believing you to be our best option. You are decorated war hero, both students and parents worship you. Those who don't are not worth the education this school provides them. It can and will work."
Lupin sighed, running a hand across his face in desperation. Arguing with Minerva McGonnagol was like arguing with a brick wall. He tried one last approach.
"But Teddy..."
"Teddy will love it." she interrupted "He'll grow up with both students and professors doting on him. The house elves will love looking after him during the day."
Seeing that all his arguments had been rebutted he relented. A small breath escaped his lips and a barely comprehensible smile graced his face. This job was a life saver but he had been concerned for his students. What if he made the same mistake as last time? He couldn't afford to forget his potion again.
His biggest worry was his son. Growing up without a mother was going to be hard enough, with his father being a werewolf it would be much tougher. The reassurance that the Headmistress had made was welcomed. Teddy would be healthy and happy here and so would he. He weight that had settled upon Remus Lupin's shoulders years ago had seemed to lift a little.
A/N: Hello! I would be really pleased if you'd review because little messages make my day. Thoughts, ideas, anything would be lovely. I'm hoping this is going to be quite dark, not death and murder and gruesome but emotionally heavy. After all they're recovering from a war. This takes place immediately after the war and will be a Remus x Hermione fic.
The title of the fic is taken from a song by my favourite band Shinedown. The chapter title is a song by Alice Cooper
An Illogical Vulcan