"Your students are late," Eames mused, gesturing at the large clock mounted on the far side of the classroom.
Arthur glanced at him then turned away. Eames had, against school policy, spelled his robes to create all sorts of outlandish patterns. Today's theme was psychedelic paisley, and it made Arthur's head hurt just looking at them. "They aren't late," he said. "They're just punctual. And better at planning than you."
Eames smirked. Across the room, Yusuf was pushing the last desk against the wall, leaving the center of the room wide open. "I can't complain," Yusuf said, brushing his hands against his robes. "It's nice to have a break from them. You can't imagine how many potions explode in each of my classes." He shuddered.
Arthur smiled. "Hey, thanks again for helping out today," he said, directing the thanks at Yusuf. He tried never to look directly at Eames; it was like staring at the sun.
"Not a problem, mate," Yusuf said. "I love Patronuses."
As he spoke, the doors to Arthur's classroom opened and his students filed inside.
"Class," Arthur called, "as you come in, leave your books and things along the wall and form a circle in the middle of the room."
He smiled to himself as they hurried to comply. The advanced group of Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were by far his favorite to teach, and today's lesson was always a hit with the students.
"Now," Arthur started once the shuffle of bodies had quieted, "it's Friday, so you all know what that means."
"Practical application," the class parroted at him, but at least they were all paying attention. When he'd first started teaching, he'd called them "Hands-On Fridays", but it didn't take long working with hormone-fueled teenagers to figure out that telling them to put their hands on things was a bad idea.
"Right. We've been studying the Patronus charm this week. I trust you all did your reading last night." Arthur fixed his fiercest scowl in place and mentally cataloged those who wouldn't meet his eye. "Fantastic. That means today we get to do our first test run. Before we start, let's review."
He caught a muted groan from the class and scowled again but there was no heat behind it. "Alright, that's enough of that. We'll start off easy. Miss Hayes, the Patronus charm is a projection of what?"
He turned to the bright, popular girl on his left. He'd learned to ask her questions early in the class; she got discussions going and paved the way for others to answer.
"Happy thoughts?" she offered.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Is that a question or an answer?"
"Um. Answer?"
It was a sign of how long Arthur had been doing this when he didn't even sigh, just nodded and continued, "Correct, Miss Hayes. The Patronus charm is a projection of positive emotion, which trumps negative emotion every time. Miss Pith, the charm serves as the primary protection against which two dark creatures?"
The tiny girl to his right startled, eyes widening. "Uh," she fumbled, glancing down and picking at her robes. Arthur felt a stab of guilt for calling on her. She always had a hard time answering questions in class, and he could never quite tell if it was because she didn't know, or if she was just nervous speaking in front of everyone.
"Dementors?" she finally guessed.
"Yes, perfect!" Arthur answered. "And one more… anyone?" He waited a few moments, but when no one responded, he said, "Lethifolds. Remember that, it's going to be on the surprise pop quiz tomorrow."
More groans filled the room. Behind him, Arthur heard Eames and Yusuf snicker.
"Now, before we start," Arthur continued, ignoring them, "I want you to remember that no one is going to conjure a full Patronus today. And that's okay. That's why we practice, so just keep trying. Because there are so many of you, I called in reinforcements so there'll be someone around if you need help." He gestured to Yusuf and Eames.
It had been Mal's idea to ask Eames to help with the class. She had checked his schedule, and he just so happened to have a free period during Arthur's class.
"I'm sure he would be willing, mon cher," she said.
Arthur thought that Eames' willingness wasn't the problem, but he shut down that thought before Mal could hear it. He couldn't just ask Eames to do things for him. Because the problem was that he wanted Eames to say yes. But once Mal had put the idea there, he couldn't stop thinking about it. So Arthur asked Yusuf to help also, as a buffer. And yet, when he asked Eames, he still somehow managed to make an ass of himself.
"I was hoping you and Yusuf could help me with the Patronus class next week," he had said. "I just need an extra pair of hands. Couple pairs of hands, I mean. To help with the Patronus Class."
Eames had grinned like always and said he'd be happy to help, darling, and was there anything else his hands could do? And Arthur had rolled his eyes like always and, well, here they were.
In the back of his mind, Arthur knew he wanted Eames there because the Patronus class was his favorite, and the kids always liked it too. He loved his Patronus, a Great Grey Owl formed from his memory of graduation from Ilvermorny. He'd stood there next to Mal with the whole world in front of him, and even now it crystallized in his mind as a perfect day.
And today, he got to show off, just a bit. And if he was very lucky, he'd get to see Eames's Patronus. He absolutely hadn't been thinking about it, but it was probably some kind of dog.
"Alright, class," Arthur said, "now focus on that memory like we discussed yesterday and practice your wand circles. The three of us will be coming around to check how you're doing." He looked to Yusuf, who was already circling the group, and Eames, whose gaudy paisley robes drew your eye even if you were trying not to look at him. "This is an advanced spell, and it requires the utmost concentration," he said, shaking his head to refocus himself. "If you're doing it right, it should look like this: Expecto Patronum!"
A bright silvery light leapt from the end of his wand and swirled in a small cloud for a moment before the shape of a large owl burst forth. It flapped twice, three times, then rose gracefully over the heads of the students. It glided along the ceiling before swooping low to startle them into giggles and Arthur smiled so broadly his dimples were probably showing. But he couldn't help it, and he let the owl circle once before releasing the spell. Each face in front of him grinned at the space where it had disappeared, including Eames. Arthur refused to let that make him blush, because he was a professional, damn it, but he could feel his ears heating anyway.
Arthur cleared his throat. "Your turn now, on three, please. Remember to concentrate. Okay, wands up, one, two-"
The door to his classroom flew open and slammed into the wall. Some students shrieked, then laughed, nervously. Dom stood just inside the door, wild-eyed and frantic, and Arthur immediately knew what was wrong.
"Professor Eames," he said calmly, "can you please take over for me? I'll be just a moment."
Eames nodded. "Absolutely," he said as he brandished his wand. His face took on a mock serious look and the students who knew him giggled.
Arthur forced himself to walk, not run, the length of the classroom and wait until the door had closed fully before rounding on Dom.
"Where is she?" Arthur demanded.
"I don't know, I don't know what to do," Dom said shakily, pale and sweating.
"Dom. Is Mal in her office?"
"I've tried everything, Arthur," Dom babbled. "It's still not working."
Arthur gritted his teeth and all but ran to the Headmaster's Tower, shouting the password "Niffler!" to the gargoyle before it had even finished asking for it. The moment it started to move aside, he dashed up the staircase and threw open the doors to the circular office.
Malorie Cobb, the much loved Headmistress of Hogwarts, was on the rug in the center room, twitching and foaming at the mouth. When Arthur crossed the threshold, she stiffened as if she'd sensed him. Then her head pivoted with unsettling slowness to stare eerily at him, her wide eyes looking right through him.
Before he had even entered the room, Arthur had put up Occlumency shields-anyone who'd spent any time around Mal knew how necessary it was. Now he layered on even more and made sure she'd be able to see he was doing it. Arthur had learned over the many years of being her friend that when he was feeling vulnerable, or when Mal was just too much, the extra layers were more of a white flag than actual protection. If Mal was in there somewhere, she'd recognize his deliberate signal. One of her eyelids fluttered, but she gave no indication she even recognized Arthur, let alone his actions. Her body began to spasm again, more spastic and violent than before.
"She's been like this for an hour," Dom said, his voice breaking.
"Dom." Arthur rolled his sleeves to the elbow and knelt beside Mal on the floor. "I need you to get her a glass of water and I need you to tell me the spells you already used," he said, deliberate and calm. He needed Dom to focus on something; he worked better when he had a goal.
"All of them!" Dom burst out, his hand in his hair.
"Dom," Arthur repeated, his voice firm. "A list. Please."
Arthur brushed her hair from her forehead while Cobb rushed around the room getting glass and pitcher and water, shakily reciting a list of spells. Arthur tuned him out and focused on Mal.
"Hey, ma chérie," he whispered in her ear. As she started to moan around the spittle in her mouth, he turned her head to the side so she wouldn't choke. Her sounds of distress got louder, verging on screams, but then her body started to relax. Arthur gathered her up, cradling her and rocking her back and forth. Eventually, she quieted as Arthur spoke non-stop in her mother tongue, muttering nonsense and possibly telling her way more than he normally would in any situation.
He told her how much he admired her, how much she had done for this school, these kids, the wizarding world. He told her how much her children needed her. They were not yet old enough to attend Hogwarts as students and not yet wise enough to understand their mother's brilliance. He told her how much he loved her, how much he'd hated that she'd married Cobb and pushed him away. He told her that he was right here, right here, right here and everything was going to be fine, she'd see, it'll all be fine, just fine.
When her body was calm, Arthur laid her gently back on the floor and wiped her lips with a handkerchief. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked up at Arthur, her eyes lucid and clear.
"Oh Arthur," she whispered, "don't be so scared."
Arthur huffed a small laugh. "Well, don't be so fucking scary." He tried to sit her up, but she grasped his arm, fingers digging too deep. Her face took on that frightening, manic look, the one that he had seen far too often in the past month.
"He needs you too," she said, her face taut. "You have to promise me not to be so scared."
Arthur looked up at Dom, fluttering helplessly above them, a glass of water clutched in his hands. "Dom's fine, Mal, look, he's right here."
But Mal just looked at him with fond pity. "Oh Arthur." The she patted his cheek and rose to her feet. "Mr. Eames, everything is under control, thank you for your concern," she said, calm and steady, every inch the Hogwarts Headmistress again.
Arthur turned in surprise to see Eames's familiar figure in the doorway, his fingers gone white on the doorframe. Arthur had no idea how long he'd been there, but he couldn't read Eames's expression.
"Yes ma'am," Eames finally said. "Glad to hear it."
"I'm sure you are," she said with a knowing smile, adjusting her cuffs and retrieving her wand from her sleeve.
Arthur turned back to Eames, dread and suspicion creasing his forehead. But Eames just ducked out of the room in a swirl of ridiculously patterned robes, leaving the three of them alone.
"Mal," Arthur said, his voice heavy with warning, "it's getting worse."
"No, dear. I'm getting better actually." She moved to the Pensieve in the corner, humming, wand at her temple already pulling gossamer silver strands as she searched for an empty bottle. When she'd safely stoppered the swirling mist, she opened the cabinet to store it and Arthur felt his jaw drop.
There were hundreds… no, thousands of memories. Hundreds of thousands maybe. More than a lifetime's worth, more like many, many lifetimes' worth, all bottled and lined up on shelves. They went on and on, a brilliant storage spell if he'd ever seen one, and one which had definitely not been there the last time he'd visited.
Mal finished labeling the newly filled bottle and turned to see his shocked face. She beamed. "Isn't it marvelous? Dom built it for me."
Dom stuffed his hands in his pockets guiltily and squinted at the air over Arthur's left shoulder.
Arthur looked back at Mal's serene face. She was gazing at the tiny bottles with an obscene amount of love. Arthur had seen Mal at her worst, before and since these "episodes", but that look chilled him to his bones in a way he'd never given in to before. He knew the second Mal sensed it; she tensed and moved to close the cabinet, as if protecting them. Arthur was in such shock he didn't try to hide his feelings about them.
"Mal," he said, "what are you doing?"
She turned to look at him, her PR smile frozen on her face. It was the one she used for visiting dignitaries and pushy pyramid-scheme witches selling makeup. He died a little inside when he saw her using it on him. "My life's work. My most important life's work," she said.
"Mal, you've already done so much, what more could anyone possibly expect from you?"
Mal thawed and patted his cheek again, and he loved her so damn much he couldn't even be mad. She knew, of course, so he didn't need to say it, and she was obviously done talking about this, so he sighed and backed up.
"Alright, have it your way. You usually do."
She smiled again and he turned to leave, resigned. He met Dom's eyes on his way out and Dom nodded to show his thanks. He'd finish taking care of her.
Arthur checked the time as he left the tower. His class was long finished and he was already halfway through his planning period. He thought for a moment then made a decision. He trekked his way to the Transfiguration room.
Eames was returning half-transformed teacups back into mice and placing them in their cage. He looked up when Arthur entered, but the smile he gave was more muted than usual. Arthur sat at a desk and watched him work, both of them quiet.
"So," Arthur broke the silence, "you speak French." It wasn't a question.
Eames shrugged. "I had a girlfriend at Beauxbatons for a while when I was a fifth year and she gave me lessons. Heady stuff, all hormone fueled. Can't believe I retained any of it." He grinned his crooked smile at Arthur. "Of course, she'd have made anyone want to learn French."
Arthur just shook his head, beyond the point of trying to figure out when Eames was pulling his leg. His bullshit detector went haywire around the man. And it was a teacher's bullshit detector too, finely honed from years of experience.
He swallowed, not sure how to start what he wanted to say. "Listen, what you heard…"
"Was none of my business," Eames finished for him. He finished with the mice and tucked his wand in the sleeve of his gaudy paisley robes, watching Arthur expectantly.
"Right," Arthur said, feeling off-center. "Thanks, then, I guess."
"Don't mention it."
Arthur shifted, awkward in the sudden silence, and cast around for something to say. Eames stood patiently watching him, casually confident as ever. Finally Arthur asked, "Are you planning on taking those to Magical Creatures? I could take them for you, if you needed…" He petered off.
Eames looked down at the cage of squeaking mice as if seeing it for the first time.
"Ah, no, not just yet. I have another class due next hour, I'll need them again then. But thank you, Arthur."
"Yeah, sure." For some reason, Arthur felt the tips of his stupid ears heating up.
He retreated back to his classroom. He had notes to go over, but he found himself sitting in the first chair in the front row, the one Eames always occupied whenever he came to bother Arthur between classes. Arthur flipped pages in his notebook with more force than was necessary and tried to convince himself that he hadn't seen "Arthur" written in Mal's spidery handwriting on the bottle she'd added to her collection.
A/N: Cover art was made by dasyatidae. (she's on AO3.) You guys! She made me ART! And it's beautiful! Go to her. Heap upon her laurels and accolades. Explain to her how wonderful she is because I think she stopped listening to me.