Chapter 2 is up. Iwill be trying my hardest to update regularly, as I have a feeling this is going to be a long story.
I have attempted French in this chapter, but as mine is limited (you'd think I'd pay attention for at least some of those ten years), please forgive me if I'm off.
I don't own any characters, as Ms. Rowling is the genius, not I.
Enjoy!
Chapter 2: Expect the Unexpected
Ecole Beauxbatons, France, 1989.
Remus Lupin stepped off the train to see the castle that was the home of Ecole Beauxbatons du Magique in the distance. It was quite a sight, with its high turrets and gilded arches, it gleamed white and gold against the pale blue sky.
Remus dragged his trunk along the platform at the train station, unsure if there were muggles present, to the exit at the end. A small man stood with a sign that read, J.R. Lupine. He approached the man, who turned and looked him up and down.
"Monsieur Lupeen?" He curled his lips slightly as he said his name.
"Oui."
"Thees' way."
Remus was lead to a waiting carriage, powder blue and resembling an oversized pumpkin, much like the one in the muggle fairytale he'd heard of as a child, and before he knew it, he was bumping along a winding country lane, the castle growing larger outside his window as he went.
He passed rolling fields of tall grass, and the occasional house amid rows of grapevines and cherry orchards, the sweet smell lingering thick in the air. It was like a scene right out of a George Eliot novel and Remus thought this would be his idea of paradise, though so soon after transformation, the sights and smells were just too much for him.
Classes had already begun at Beauxbatons, but, accommodating the lycanthropic professor, the headmistress had agreed he could begin a week later.
Dumbledore, his former headmaster and friend, had procured this latest job for him. He was very grateful, given that he hadn't worked for six months and was down to his last galleon, but the truth was that being a part-time English Literature professor and tutor for hire for privileged French children was not his idea of a bold career move. Still, the fact that the headmistress, Madame Maxime, was willing to hire a werewolf made the job impossible to turn down.
That, and his empty vault at Gringotts.
As the carriage came to a stop and he climbed out to meet his new boss, Remus' only thoughts were that this giantess of a woman that stood before him was either incredibly kind despite her looks or else Dumbledore had something on her. He tried not to chuckle at this ridiculous thought as she introduced herself and lead him through the castle to his private quarters.
As he walked past a group of pretty young French girls, it struck him that James and Sirius would be so jealous if they could see him now. He caught himself at this second unexpected musing.
"Monsieur Lupeen, you are steel very pale." The headmistress' lilting voice roused him as he found he was standing at the threshold of what he assumed were his private quarters.
"Per'aps you shood start your lessons day after next." Remus smiled but politely declined.
"Madame, I will be fine by tomorrow."
"Eef you are sure."
Madame Maxime seemed satisfied and left Remus to settle into his new home for the next ten months.
The next morning Remus began his day looking better but feeling nauseous. It wasn't the aftereffects of the full moon, but nerves. Though qualified, he'd never taught before and was unsure of how he would be received by privileged students who were used to having the best of everything, teachers included.
During breakfast, a few of the other professors, a Mr. McShane, and a Madame Chouette, professors of arithmancy and history respectively, had warned him about showing any fear or doubt. Mr. McShane, an older Scottish wizard with a grizzly beard and a rough demeanor, was particularly adamant that Remus go into his first class and show the students he was "all business", or else they would "eat him alive." The tough old man only made Remus more nervous and by the time he was standing in the empty classroom, waiting for the first bell, he was feeling his breakfast fighting to get back out.
But it was all for naught.
His first class, as it turned out, was a frightened group of first years, most of whom spoke little English. The first week would be similar to this, full of boys and girls aged eleven to fourteen, reading poetry aloud in broken English, or whispering quietly as they copied notes from the board at the front of the class.
The second week, though, was different.
The older students, from fifth to seventh year, were more jaded, fearless. As a group, they were haughty, their know-it-all sneers reminding him of the Slytherins of Hogwarts. He found most of the girls fit into two categories; the self-obsessed, self-proclaimed geniuses, who knew all the answers and asked too many questions, and the coquettes, as Chouette called them, who were equally self-obsessed, though with their own beauty, and never bothered with schoolwork yet managed decent grades. The boys, on the other hand, seemed to be either brains or brawn but certainly not both. Only a small percentage didn't seem to fit, and at the end of that second week, he met one student who stood out above the rest.
It was the very last class before the second weekend, when, traditionally, the older students were allowed into town for a day of shopping and socializing. There was a buzz of excitement among his fifth year class and he found it difficult to settle them enough to begin. As with every other class, he began by going through the class list and having each student introduce themselves so he could put faces to names.
He looked down the list, which arranged itself to match where the students chose to sit, as the first student stood up.
Gison, E.
"Emmanuelle Gison."
He nodded, and the next girl did the same.
Rocher, C.
"Celine Rocher."
He scanned the list as the next boy stood noisily and announced himself. A name caught his eye.
Del Fuego, K.
"Maurice de L'Amour."
Remus looked up, past another boy speaking, his eyes sweeping over his students. He barely noticed as the next few students stood up, one by one, and did the same.
A dark-haired girl sitting at the back caught his eye. She had a bored look on her face that was at once familiar and unnerving.
It couldn't be.
He stared as the introductions went down the row. It was her turn next.
The girl stood up slowly, her head barely visible behind the tall boy seated in front of her.
"Kali del Fuego." Despite the name, her accent was British. Very London. Very bored.
Remus tore his eyes away from her, his mind a jumble of thoughts. He began his lesson after the introductions, trying to focus on the task at hand.
He found himself stealing glances at the tiny girl as he walked around the classroom in pretense of offering help near the end of class. When the bell sounded, he forgot to assign homework, determined to ask the girl a question. As the others streamed out, Remus called out, "Miss del Fuego, a moment of your time." Several girls sniggered as she walked towards the front of the class. She didn't speak, but rather stared at him with cold eyes.
"Are you related to Dahlia del Fuego?" She looked at him suspiciously.
"She was my mother."
He could see the resemblance. Her dark orb-like eyes, her mouth set in a pout, the petite frame, and the exotic looks. It was Dahlia. But there was something else. As he pondered silently, her impatience grew and suddenly her eyes flashed a cool gray. His stomach leapt.
It's not possible.
"Are we done?"
He searched her eyes, looking for that familiar flash of gray, but it was gone. Convinced his mind was playing tricks on him, he dismissed her.
Remus went through the rest of his day in a daze, barely realizing when night had come, and spent the rest of the night in his private quarters, memories of old friends playing in his mind, until, exhausted, he fell into an uneasy sleep.
Hogwarts, 1973.
"Did you hear the latest?" Peter whispered, barely suppressing a grin.
"What now?" Sirius answered, bored.
"Let me guess," shot out James, "you grew a facial hair!" He made a show of inspecting Peter's chin, much to Sirius' delight.
Peter, embarrassed at his lack of puberty, pushed James' hand away.
"Stop it!"
"What is it, Peter?" Remus interjected patiently.
He knew they were about to get an earful of rumours and gossip. Peter lived for gossip, but Remus found this side of his little friend distasteful. Still, he had to admit; Peter's knack for finding things out had come in handy more than once.
"Yes," echoed Sirius, "What juicy little morsel do you have for us now?"
He was all condescension and attitude, but he was listening.
"That Slytherin, Dahlia – she's pregnant!" he whispered gleefully.
"No way!"
"Uh –huh."
"Where'd you here this?" Sirius, all pretense gone, was leaning in, anxious for Peter's answer.
"Bertha Jorkins."
"That chubby girl with the big mouth?"
"How would she know?" James was curious now, too.
"She heard some Slytherin girls in the washroom – you know, Moaning Myrtles?" He stopped for emphasis, enjoying the attention.
"They didn't know she was in there and they came in laughing about how they'd tricked her into revealing her secret."
"How?" Remus, seeing Sirius' reaction, was curious now, too.
"Not sure." He screwed up his face, trying to remember what he'd been told. He had a lousy memory.
"But apparently, they saw her in the shower."
"And?"
"They saw her stomach." He made a gesture with his hands below the table.
"How big is it?" A frantic look flashed across Sirius' face.
"I don't know. Why?"
Sirius leaned back, determined to show nothing, but Remus had seen it. Apparently, he'd been the only one.
"Just curious."
"Wait." James turned to Sirius. "Didn't you snog her last summer?"
"I did."
"You didn't do, um, anything else, did you?"
A guilty smirk spread across Sirius' face.
"No way!" Peter was in awe.
"You didn't tell me!" James was hurt.
Remus, always the most logical, was suddenly worried.
"Did you use protection?"
All three boys gaped at him.
"Well did you?"
"Of course," Sirius answered, a little too quickly. "What do you take me for?"
"A liar." James was angry.
"I never lied," Sirius responded haughtily, "you never asked."
"You're only thirteen!"
"So?"
"She's a fifth year!"
"And?" Sirius was doing his best to look nonchalant.
"Uh, was she your first?" Peter had to know.
Sirius only smirked.
"Where you hers?" James had to know.
"Doubt it," he answered, smirking and waggling his brows.
"Do you think it's yours?" Remus had to know.
"Not a chance, mate!"
Remus joined the staff for breakfast the next morning, grumpy and tired, and, to his dismay, was informed he would be patrolling in the village from one to five that afternoon. It was part of staff duties and was done to insure the students behaved in a manner "befitting a lady or gentleman." This was, apparently, a problem for the students, who enjoyed mingling with unsuspecting muggles from the village. McShane was assigned morning patrols, for what he bluntly called "wanker duty", because the purpose, according to him, was to leave the boys, muggle and magical alike, frustrated by the end of the day.
Despite his fatigue, Remus found himself strolling through the quaint French village later that afternoon, enjoying the smell of fresh baguettes and mulled wine wafting from the various little shops along the main road. He walked for an hour, passing groups of students chatting merrily along the way, until he came to a less populated part of town. A little farther off, past a clump of trees by the lake, he heard a disturbance.
"Hey, pute!"
"Qu'est-ce que tu fait, conasse?"
He walked around to a clearing to see a group of fifth year girls huddled together, standing near a tiny figure seated on a rock by the lake.
"What's going on here?" he asked sternly as he approached, forgetting his French.
The group of girls turned to look at him, followed by the girl on the rock. It was Kali.
"De rien, professeur," a tall blonde answered silkily.
We were joost 'aving a chat," answered another.
He recognized the blonde and her friends. A know-it-all and two coquettes.
"I suggest you keep moving."
The blonde, Celine Rocher, curtsied mockingly, and the three were off instantly.
"Are you okay?" he asked the young girl as he approached the lake.
"Fine," she answered curtly.
There was an awkward silence as Remus searched for the right words. He wanted to be reassuring, like a teacher should be in situations like these, but he was at a loss.
"It's probably a good thing, for them, you came along when you did."
Her voice was casual, like the insults the girls were hurling moments before were nothing to her.
"Why's that?" He was glad she had spoken first.
"They were about to eat shit, but they didn't know it yet."
He stared at her, taken aback.
Was she always this blunt?
"I hope you mean that figuratively."
She scoffed. "I don't."
Despite her candor, or maybe because of it, he walked towards her and sat down beside her on the soft ground.
"Why do they hate you?" he asked gently, looking up at her.
"No clue."
They sat in silence, watching a duck dive under the water, its tail end bobbing up and down.
"You know, your mother wasn't liked much by other girls at school, either."
"Hogwarts?"
"Yes."
"I figured."
She looked down at him with dark, wide eyes and seemed to ponder something.
"Did you know her well?"
"No, different houses," he answered, as if that was explanation enough. Still, she looked at him quizzically.
"You see, there were four houses," he began to explain, but she cut him off.
"Let me guess, you were a Gryffindor."
"I was."
Was it that obvious?
"And mum was a Slytherin."
"I was also a few years younger."
"How many?"
"Two."
She looked at him, an odd expression of wonder on her face, but it passed quickly.
"You were destined never to mingle." She smiled.
"That's right," he chuckled.
She really is a clever girl.
"Why aren't you with your friends, shopping, or … flirting with boys?" he asked suddenly, trying to lighten the mood.
"I think you actually have to have them first." There was bitterness in her voice.
"There must be some nice girls around to be friends with?"
"How do you know it's not me?" she asked him, smirking.
He saw a brief flash of sadness in her eyes.
"I just do," he answered, feeling sorry for her.
Apparently sensing this, she jumped up suddenly.
"I should go."
"As should I," he responded, standing up and brushing bits of dead grass off his robes.
She walked around the edge of the lake, and stopped, turning back to him.
"I do have friends, you know."
"Of course."
"There just off making the most of the day."
He looked at her, waiting for an explanation.
"You'll see," she chuckled, and was off.
Remus finished his patrols a few hours later, having caught three couples, all students, in various stages of undress in unlikely places – behind a barrel, in a storefront (much to the dismay of the shop keeper) and in a car, which the couple had broken into, on a deserted street by the train station. While he'd been embarrassed, the girls ranged from livid to mortified, while the boys beamed, he guessed, because it would get around the school and their reputations would be cemented forever.
He found he was a little elated that the last couple he had escorted to the headmistress' office included Celine Rocher, the tall blonde he'd seen teasing Kali earlier that afternoon.
He wasn't sure how it had happened, but in the short time he knew Kali, he was beginning to feel protective of her. He reasoned with himself that it was only because she seemed so sad and alone.
Even though something in the back of his mind told him different, he ignored it, choosing instead to believe the reasons he'd concocted for the affection he felt growing for the strange, tiny girl.
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The next few months passed uneventfully for Remus. He spent his days teaching and made extra money by tutoring students individually in the evenings. He'd made friends, of sorts, with a few of the staff members, enjoying conversations about the real world now and then, but, for the most part, he kept to himself. The only one who knew his secret was Madame Maxime and she had made every effort to schedule his classes around the full moon, so as not to raise any suspicion. Still, he found it best to keep his personal life just that. Not that he had much of one. In fact, if he was being honest with himself, he would admit there was no he missed back home and no one, he was sure, that missed him.
Conversations with staff members, when he was around, leaned towards the students and their wealthy families. He got to know which students had the most money, the most powerful parents, the oldest families. Even though, as a rule, he abhorred gossip, much like when he was at Hogwarts, he grew to look forward to it, as it was through the loose lips of the staff that he learned more about Dahlia and her daughter.
Dahlia, he learned soon after that second weekend in September, was dead. She'd died by her own hand when Kali was eleven. It was her grandmother and legal guardian, a close friend to a patron of Beauxbatons, that had secured a place for the young girl at the last minute. Apparently, her name had been placed on the list at Hogwarts when she was born, like her mother before her, but Monsieur de la Falaise, the patron, had managed the switch. This, of course, was unheard of and had caused a little scandal among the wealthiest French families, who felt it was wrong to let a girl without proper parentage into the hallowed halls of Beauxbatons. They also objected to the girl's grandmother, though no one was brave enough to voice that opinion to anyone other that the headmistress.
Kali, whose mother and grandmother were both infamous for getting involved with powerful men, married or not, carried her mother's maiden name, which was also her grandmother's, a practice unheard of in the magical community. Dahlia, like her mother before her, had refused to name the father when Kali was born in St. Mungo's in London in 1974, telling Ministry members responsible for recording births to "kiss her ass." McShane, the staff member who seemed to know the most about this, as his sister had been a Healer in the maternity ward at St. Mungo's at the time, told this particular part of the story with amusement, and Remus could tell he had admired the young woman for going against the norm, even if only on principle alone. (He got the feeling McShane had been quite a rabble-rouser in his youth.)
Remus, painfully aware of how the Ministry of Magic imposed their rules on people's lives, felt some sympathy for Dahlia, though he secretly wondered why she never named the father. If it was Sirius, the Black name alone would have demanded respect (at least, back then), even though they were still very young, never mind unmarried. Maybe she really didn't know who the father was, as her reputation at school suggested, and she was ashamed to admit it. But a well-placed spell on the child could determine paternity, so that didn't make sense, either. Maybe it was another Black. Regulus was at Hogwarts at the same time, although he would have been twelve at the time of conception and Remus couldn't imagine that clueless clod of a Black wooing a girl like Dahlia. Not at any age. There was always the possibility of Orion Black. He was a womanizer, and he was "friendly" with Celestia del Fuego, Dahlia's mother, Sirius had told them.
It had to be a Black. Remus knew it. She had the dark, wavy mane, the regal nose. And she was beautiful, though her looks were more exotic, much like Dahlia and her mother before her, who hailed from a small wizarding town, much like Hogsmeade, in southern Belize. But beyond the physical, there was the air of indifference, and her determined stare that both Sirius and Regulus shared. The stare they inherited from their father. And there were her eyes, a kaleidoscope of brown and silvery gray, which changed according to light, to mood, and reminded him more and more of Sirius Black.
It was on a cold November night, that Remus, his mind full of pieces of the puzzle that was this young girl, wandered up to the south tower of the castle, determined to rid his mind of all his thoughts by staring up at the moonless sky. He ascended the narrow stairs with his usual stealth, a handy side effect of being a werewolf, and unwittingly snuck up on the puzzle.
I hope you like! Please review, love it or hate it - just please be gentle, as it's my first fanfic, and I bruise easily!
Also, for those of you wondering about the French, I'll translate some ofit:
pute - whore
conasse - stupid bitch
de rien - nothing
The names of students/teachers mean something, too, but I'll let you figure it out!
