Thanks to Kimagure, whose beta reading skills left me alternating between blushing and giggling madly. And yes, Kimagure. I know my title is just as bad (if not worse!) than anything you came up with ^_^
A Shared Demon.
Boxes. So many boxes. It made his life seem so clinical, when all that he had could be easily placed inside simple cardboard boxes, and moved on. Several house elves would be down later to send them to his next location; it was only the battered suitcase that he had arrived with that would leave with him. It was fuller now, far more than it had been all those months ago when he had first arrived. Now it held little of his clothes, and more of his memories. Memories of a year that he would always hold close to his heart.
He would miss Hogwarts. He would miss its grand corridors and warm staff, its history and its advancement. He would miss that nowhere else felt quite like home, as Hogwarts did. But he would miss the students, most of all.
Even through the peeling false leather, he could smell the insipid stench of the perfume from the Valentine's Day card a second year had shyly given him, her sweet words forever imprinted in his mind. There was also a photo of his seventh year class, taken on their class trip. It was a lovely picture, or would have been, if it wasn't for the fact that Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint had continued their rivalry even in the photo, shooting glares at each other that had the entire class that stood between the two wearily looking for an ideal place to take cover if things should indeed turn physical. The Ravenclaw beside Marcus especially looked terrified.
A Dark Arts essay by one of his students from that photo was in the suitcase as well. Percy Weasley's work had always been a pleasure to read, and this particular essay had been quite brilliant. But thoughts of the elder Weasley brother brought thoughts of a younger one, and the small smile that had begin to form at the warm memories, drooped.
James, forgive me, for putting your son and his young friend at risk.
He wasn't ready to deal quite with the memories of that day, of Peter and Sirius, of Snape. There were too many aspects of his own personality that needed exploration, mainly rather negative ones. They needed to be saved for a time when he could rage, a more appropriate period when he would be able to face his own failings in private.
So, instead, he remembered what there was of Ron and Harry in the suitcase. There was the parchment that their year had passed around, entitled 'Why Prof. Lupin is far cooler than Snape.' By the time he had confiscated it a third of the way through the year, the list had over 130 different reasons, and had entered the status of folklore. Severus had certainly spent many an afternoon seething over the list, he recalled with a smile. Even if the list hadn't been so complimentary, watching Severus 'deal' with the situation was certainly amusing enough on its own.
He couldn't hide here in his recent past any longer, although it was a far preferred option to once again walking the halls of Hogwarts. When he had done so earlier, the child in him who had always been terrified of others discovering his dark secret had been awoken, and it had been hard to ignore the gazes and glares the students had directed at him. Worst still was the open fear that many of them showed, even from those he had taught all year. So quickly could one stop being an individual and become a monster.
He had seen Harry on his first trip, however. That the child had been able to forgive him and look past all the prejudices that even grown adults showed, was a reflection so much of James. It was times like these, when he felt as though his own doubts and fears were choking him, that he missed James the most. James had always known how to reassure him, even when Sirius or Peter were at a complete loss.
Sirius. Peter. Not yet, he couldn't deal with it all, yet. Not when he still had the hallways to conquer.
With a confidence that was most certainly a pretense, he stepped out from his quarters, not daring to look back in the possibility that he would find himself unable to tear himself away from his home. Most students were in class, as he had so carefully planned, although the few he did pass pointed and muttered angry words beneath their breaths. They were already becoming more confident and secure in their harassment; it had been the right decision to leave straight away.
"So, you are leaving then, Mr. Lupin." He hadn't expected the cold voice, hadn't expected any of them to speak directly to him. He paused in his step, wearily wondering why he couldn't have made it simply out of the grounds without a confrontation, before turning around slowly.
"Percy." Calm and controlled. "And yes, it looks as though I will be leaving slightly earlier than I had originally anticipated." He let his trained eyes run over the Weasley child, taking in the stiff, angry posture and the barely concealed fury.
"Good. You should have never been here in the first place." The harsh words stung, more so than the glares or Severus's smug glances. Percy was a student he had genuinely liked, had even found himself identifying with, on occasions. The perfect exterior Percy liked to parade was as hollow as his own one of normality was.
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Percy. I hope you do find eventually some fond memories of the year, but as for now, I must be off. You surely wouldn't want me to miss my train and be stuck here for another day." He smiled wryly, before turning to go on his way.
"That, that is it?!" Percy's angry words caused him to stop once again. "You really are a monster! Who knows how many people you could have possibly killed this past year, and all you can comment on is your train?"
This wasn't like Percy. Facing the youngster again, he found that all pretence of restraint was gone, and that the usually controlled Head Boy was looking positively murderous. It was almost as though Percy wanted this confrontation to continue.
Of course, how silly. He should have remembered that Percy was simply human, even though he liked to pretend otherwise. Percy's anger was surely twofold of anyone else, with Ron still in the hospital wing.
"I'm sorry that your brother was hurt," he tried gently. Ron's injury had come at the hand of Sirius, not himself, but he wasn't certain that Percy could see the difference at this particular time. Instead of calming Percy down even in the slightest, it only seemed to anger him more.
"You expect me to believe you care?" The words came out hard and cold. "If you cared, you would never have come here in the first place. The only person you care about is yourself."
It was as though they were destined to go continuously in a circle. His own frustration was starting to seep in, he wasn't sure what it was that Percy wanted him to say, and the boy was determined to not let him leave it appeared until he was finished with his cutting words. Maybe it was that Percy had no idea what he wanted from this either, but it was the only way he could express his anger and worry over Ron.
"Ron is a wonderful child, a very bright one, Percy. Of course I care about him, as I do all my students."
"A teacher is supposed to *protect* their students, not harm them!" Percy's face was beginning to turn red, and his words were becoming louder. "Teachers aren't supposed to attack their students, or let known murderers do their dirty work for them! Teachers are supposed to keep them safe, the Prefects can't be expected to make sure they are always where they should be all of the time!"
Oh, Percy. Those words suddenly made this strange argument seem so much clearer.
"You are right, Percy. That Ron was injured was my fault, it is something I doubt I will ever be able to forgive myself for. It was my responsibility as a teacher to make sure that Hogwarts is safe, and I failed." He smiled softly at the boy, hoping that Percy would interpret it as one of understanding, not mockery. "It was my failure, Percy. Not yours."
Eyes that had been narrowed in hate, widened, before slipping back behind their masks.
"Of course it is not my fault," Percy said it so pompously, that he almost found himself missing the underlying pain in those words. Almost. "Ron should be old enough to look after himself, I certainly shouldn't have to still be baby sitting him. And just because I am Head Boy-" Percy's voice broke, and this time he was nowhere near as effective at covering his emotions.
The guilt and self-loathing that radiated from Percy seemed far too strong for someone so young. It reminded him too much of his own emotions.
"Don't you try and turn this around and blame it on me," Percy finally managed to force out, between clenched teeth. "You are the monster, it is your kind that should be locked up for ever in Azkaban. You don't deserve to live." Percy spoke the last words with such conviction, that he found it difficult to hold onto the fact that the Head Boy was speaking in anger heavily laced with guilt and worry, that chances were, words spoken now were hardly a true reflection of what his past student really thought.
They pained him all the same.
"Goodbye, Mr Weasley," he finally said. Picking up his suitcase, he turned away from the boy, and headed back down the corridor. This time, he didn't turn around as Percy called angrily after him, even when an almost desperation seemed to creep into the hurtful words.
He had a train to catch.