JK Rowling. Enough said.
(love you, remus…)
Chapter Ten, of Tea with Lupin
Tea went by fine, with my heart pounding at his proximity the entire time. His office was small, but comfortable, and extremely interesting. Books, written parchments, odd looking tools, and various personal items covered tables, shelves, and walls.
"Where did you get all this?" I asked in amazement, softly touching a diagram of the solar system.
"From place to place." He shrugged, setting a tea cup down in front of me. "I hardly stay in one place for long."
I was about to ask why not, but from the faraway, semi-bitter look on his face, I pretty much realized without asking. "Oh."
"Isn't this the weekend for Hogsmeade?" He asked, changing the subject.
"Yea-" I nodded, "Harry asked me to go with him. He and Ron were going to show me what Quidditch was, but Hermione got mad at them for ignoring her, so Harry said he'd just show me around."
He laughed. "Hermione really has it out for you, doesn't she?"
I smiled distractedly, pulling a book from off the shelf. Art through the Ages; A look at Wizard Works.
"Have you drawn anything lately?" He asked, nodding at the book I held in my hands. I was staring at the pages, awestruck by the beauty that shifted and moved before my eyes.
"Not really," I admitted. "I haven't had any free time at all."
"Do your other teachers really give you all that much homework?"
I laughed and shook my head. "Snape's got me on detention for the rest of the week. I barely have time to do my homework before dinner, let alone draw."
He leaned back against the bookcase I was standing by and studied my face. "Why?"
"I dunno, he just doesn't like me, I guess. Even when I don't say anything in class, he gives me a detention. Biased, if you ask me. God, look at how colorful this one is," I tapped the open faced book and sighed wistfully. "I wish I could do stuff that good."
"He gives you detentions for no reason?"
"Huh?" I looked up and met his furrowed brow. "Yea."
"Does he ever ask you questions about… well, anything?"
"Actually, he gets mad when I talk. I can't even sing to myself without getting another one. He tells me to shut up, I file, and he stares at me."
Lupin started mumbling under his breath, a hand to his forehead as he began pacing.
"What's the matter?" I finally tore my eyes from the drawings and watched him pace curiously.
"Nothing," he waved a hand at me in distracted thought.
I started to feel as if I were taking up valuable space in his office and started edging towards the door. "Well, uh, thank you for the tea… I guess I'll see you Wednesday or something…"
I don't think he even noticed I had spoken. He had sunk to the small bed in the corner and covered his face with his hand, mumbling.
"Goodbye," I whispered, shutting the door behind me softly. And then, hurrying to the Common Room, I allowed myself to grin at the way his hair had a sexy habit of falling into his incredible eyes.
"Where've you been?" Harry asked the moment I sank to the couch in front of the fire.
'Y'ever notice how you're the only one to ever ask me where I was? And it's always when I sit down." I said suddenly, just then realizing it.
"Right…" He scooted himself a bit to the other side. "Well then,"
"I was having tea with Professor Lupin," I explained off-handedly. "When do we getta go to Hogsmeade?"
"As soon as breakfast is over," Ron jumped in excitedly. He and Hermione were engaged in a game of Wizard Chess.
"What's there to do?"
I listened attentively as they poured out every secret in Hogsmeade, from the Zonko's joke shop to the Shrieking Shack. "Where Lupin used to have to go when he transformed," Hermione said, forgetting she wasn't speaking to me.
"Did he ever tell you guys how he got turned into a werewolf?" I asked curiously.
"Actually, no," Ron shrugged. "Never really thought to ask him how it happened…"
"Weren't you ever curious!?"
"Not really…" Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I always figured he didn't wanna talk about it, otherwise he'd a told us already."
"Do you know a lot about him? I mean, other than he was a werewolf?" I tried to make it sound like an innocent inquiry, while inside I was burning to know everything I could.
"He was best friends with my dad," Harry said softly.
"And his nickname is Moony," Ron added.
"And Snape hates his guts," Hermione put in. "That's pretty much it."
"Oh."
I watched them play in silence. Harry tapped my arm. "Hey, Casey?"
"Hm?"
"I was just wondering if maybe… Well, next Saturday, it's the first Quidditch game… Were you gonna go?"
There was that dratted Quidditch word again. "You play, don't you?"
"He's the best damn seeker in over a hundred years!" Ron boasted proudly.
"I mean, I was just wondering if you'd come…" Harry was going on.
Hermione, who had relaxed into a semi-civil mood, instantly glared at me, waiting for my answer.
"I suppose so," I shrugged. "It'll be nice to finally know what Quidditch is."
They all stared at me before bursting into laughter. "You'll love it," Ron assured me. All Harry could do was smile crookedly.
"Hey, gotta run—Detention time." I stood up.
"What does he make you do!?" Harry asked, exasperated. "Every night!!"
"I file papers," I made a face. "I can't complain, though.. Better than de-gumming desks."
I left them to look after me in puzzled confusion, except for Hermione who called out, "Have fun!" with a large amount of sarcasm behind her voice.
Chapter Eleven: Consequences of Tea With Lupin
When I got to Snape's dungeon, he already had company. Lupin and Dumbledore were seated in front of Snape, apparently waiting for me to arrive. When I entered, Dumbledore rose to his feet.
"Casey—a word, please?"
"Sure Professor…" I shot a puzzled look to Snape, who was glaring at Lupin with death in his eyes. "What's up?"
"Have you been reporting to Detention every night for the past week and a half?" he asked me kindly.
"Well… no, not on Saturdays or Sundays…"
"Were you told the reasons for these detentions?"
"No…" I became very aware of Snape's flashing eyes as they shifted from Lupin to me.
"Yet you come, no questions asked?" he raised an eyebrow, a bemused look on his face. "Why is that?"
"I figured he had a reason… and it wasn't up to me to dispute it." I shrugged. "Was I wrong?"
Dumbledore chucked softly, shaking his head. "No, no, Casey… But I think we might have to have a discussion about the amount of punishments you've been receiving in one week." His eyes flicked to Snape. He scowled.
"So I don't have to file papers tonight?" I asked hopefully.
"No," he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You can go back to the Tower. Have some free time for a change."
I found new interest in the floor. "Thank you," I mumbled, then turned to leave. Dumbledore said something to Lupin, who stood up and gave Snape a disgusted look.
"I'll walk back with you, Casey," He said, already opening the door for me. I mumbled a goodnight to Snape and Dumbledore, a thank you to Lupin, and walked out.
We walked down in silence. I wanted to say something witty, but my mind was drawing a blank so near to Lupin. I could smell his aftershave, a deep, sweet smell, and all went blank.
"Oh-" Lupin suddenly came to life and turned to face me. "I wanted to give you something."
I watched him curiously as he pulled out Art through the Ages from the folds of his robe. He wiped a piece of lint from the cover and handed it to me. "I was going to give it to you earlier, when you left, but I suppose I got sidetracked and missed it…"
I stared at the cover, my finger tracing the cover lightly. "Thank you," I whispered, totally floored. "You didn't—I mean, … Thank you." I looked up, surprised to find myself looking through blurred eyes. His face relaxed as he saw my smile and he returned it slowly.
"It's not much—I didn't really have any-"
"I love it." I blinked back the tears, only one betraying my valiant struggle. I wiped it away quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice. "And… And thank you for sticking up for me with Snape… I mean, you didn't have to do that…"
"He has no justifiable reason to keep you in there for two hours every night," Lupin lowered his head, his hands jammed into his pockets. "But you're welcome."
I held the book to my chest, following him silently. The companiable warmth emanating from him was such a comforting change to the cold indifference I had grown accustomed to from Snape and his detentions. I began to think, my heart racing as I contemplated what I was planning to do. Planning to confess.
As we neared the North Tower, I summoned all my courage.
"Professor Lupin?"
"Yes?"
We had stopped in front of the stairs that led to the Common Room. I could faintly hear laughter coming from behind the Fat Lady, who had stopped her reading and was watching us curiously.
I bit on my lower lip, debating with myself. And then, in a rush of strength, I spoke.
"It was the last day of school."
He tensed, his expression turning to one of intent concentration. It gave me courage to go on.
"I was so excited, we all were… Only one more year of school to go, then we'd be free… A kid in my science class
was having a celebration party. Everyone was invited. And everyone was going."
I took a deep breath as he watched me, waiting.
"Everyone but me. My mother told me no. She said she had a bad feeling about it—she was afraid I'd get into trouble or something, I dunno. I figured it was just a mother's over-protective worry. And we started to fight. And yell. We'd had fights before, but none were ever that bad…. It was the first time I ever told her I hated-" My voice caught in my throat and I took a deep breath, forcing myself to go on. "Told her I hated her. Slammed a lot of doors, locked myself into my room. Sobbing like a baby at how cruel she was, how unfair she was being.
"My best friend called to see if I needed a ride. When I told her what had happened, she told me to sneak out. She'd come pick me up at the corner, where Mom wouldn't see me. I was stupid enough to agree. And, blaring my CD's, I made sure the door was locked, and I climbed out my window."
I had to take another deep breath. Lupin hadn't moved, but I could tell he was listening.
"We got to the party---it was so stupid. Most people left after an hour, there was nothing to do. Eat a lot of food, drink a lot of beer… Basically mess the guy's house up pretty damned good…" I forced a laugh. "Then, about 10:30, his parents showed up. Turns out he wasn't supposed to be having a party. So they called all of our parents to come get us—tell them where we were, what we were doing. When they got mom and dad on the phone, they asked to speak to me. I had forgotten how mad I had been earlier—now I just wanted them to come get me and bring me home… They were mad. But the didn't yell. No, yelling would have been so much easier… All they did was told me they were disappointed in me, but that they would be there in a few minutes and we'd talk. I was so afraid of the looks they would give me… I'd never done anything like that before, and I knew they would take it to heart—blame themselves for my behavior. They were always like that. Always."
Tears had begun streaming down my cheeks in rivers. I ignored them and continued, nearing the end.
"I sat and I waited for them, watching TV in the living room… A few minutes turned to an hour… Then two. And they hadn't come yet. Then there was a loud beep on the TV, the one that signals a Newsflash. And I knew. Right away, I knew-" I broke off again, trying to control the sobs rising in my throat. "There had been an accident. A bad accident. Two people, trapped in their car, awaiting help. They hadn't even been killed instantly. God, they were in agony for three hours—"
I lost all vocal capabilities right then and stood, rooted to the floor, crying. Professor Lupin, his face a mask, touched my arm softly.
"Casey-"
I took a step backwards, up the stairs, avoiding his eyes. "I murdered them, Professor… They died because of me… And I told my mother I hated her…"
"No, Casey, no," he held a hand out towards me, almost touching my hand. "She didn't believe you."
I looked at him through watered eyes. His brown ones, full of warm, comforting, condoling sympathy, drew me to them like a magnet. Without realizing it, his arms were wrapped around me, his hand rubbing my back slowly, and his voice in my ear, soothing me.
"Believe me, Casey, she knew you loved her… She knew without you having to tell her." He was whispering. I cried into his shoulder, the painful memories flooding back as if it had been yesterday.
"It's all my fault their dead," I sobbed.
"That's not true," He murmured. "You had no control over it."
"She told me not to go—she knew… But I went anyway…"
He pulled me closer, tighter. "Casey, listen to me… I knew your mother… She would've known, without you telling her-"
I took a deep shuddering breath, clinging to his thin shoulders for dear life. "I wish I could just tell her… At least one time. To make up for it."
"She can hear you. She's looking out for you." He pulled back, lifting my chin up with his hand. "She's always with you… She knows everything you wanted to say to her."
I wiped my eyes frantically. He held out a handkerchief. I took it with a trembling thanks.
"I got your shirt gross," I whispered sadly, feeling as if the patch of dark grey on his light sweater was the cause for all my depression.
"Don't worry about it," he dismissed it offhandedly. "It'll survive."
I stood, suddenly feeling very queasy and embarrassed. "I've never really told anyone about this before… Most people think they died coming home together…don't know my involvement…" I forced a laugh. "God, you must think I'm such a baby," I raked a hand through my hair nervously, sniffing. "I don't usually-"
"Don't," he put his hand over mine and gave me a heart achingly sweet smile. "You don't have to apologize."
Unable to stay with him so close, especially when I remembered the way his arms had seemed to fit around me so perfectly, I decided it was time to go. "Thank you for the book," I mumbled, already starting up the stairs backwards. "I really like it,"
He watched me climbing up the stairs, his hands back in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face. When I had reached the Portrait,
"Hey Casey-"
I turned to look down at him.
"Thank you for trusting me enough to say that."
I felt the smallest of smiles breaking through on my face. "You were right, Professor… Talking about it helps." With a short nod to him, I uttered the password and crawled into the Common Room.
Chapter Twelve: Alliteration and Reconciliation
I spent the whole night, camped in front of the fire, looking carefully through each picture in the book Lupin had given me. He had obviously looked through it many times—many pages were dog-eared and there were hastily written notes in the margins by some drawings. Every time I saw one, it made me think of that sweet look of concentration he got in class, or when he was listening to me. Then I would remember the conversation we had had, the way he had held me, and then the way he had watched me climbing up the stairs.
Snap out of it, I ordered myself sternly. He's 19 years older than you. And, he's your teacher. A Big No No, Casey.
But I couldn't stop the faint smile from appearing on my lips as I read his notes on one painting in particular, a bright green lizard with purple tones. It walked around the page meanly, tongue flicking out as it surveyed his territory. Next to it, in Lupin's tidy professor writing, were the words "Juju—what ever happened to him? Hope Dad didn't really skin him for a pair of boots… Don't think he ever got big enough for one boot, let alone two…"
"What's that?" Ron popped out from nowhere, leaning over the back of the couch at my book.
"It's an art book," I showed him the cover.
"Where'd ya get that from?"
"Professor Lupin gave it to me."
He raised one eyebrow. "Professor Lupin gave you a book?"
"Yea." I shrugged. "He knew I liked art, but wasn't allowed to bring any of my own books."
"Ah." He nodded. "Well anyway, I was sent to ask you if you'd be interested in going to the Hogsmeade Harvest Festival tomorrow?"
"What is it?"
"It's this awesome party—there's music, free food-" here he grinned eagerly, "-and tons of booths and games. Like a carnival—wizard style."
"That sounds cool." I smiled. "I'm in."
"Good." He ran off in a flash, already asking someone else if they were going to go, too. I shook my head, still laughing at his enthusiasm. When I looked back down to the book, a few pages had slipped by already. I turned to find where I had left off, but a yellow piece of parchment caught my eye, and I pulled it out of the book curiously.
Moony-
Don't get in over your head this time—I'm not there to pull you back to your senses. It's not the same, it's not happening again. HISTORY IS NOT REPEATING ITSELF. Don't do anything rash, or you'll be back here in the cave with me quicker than you can say Moony Wormtail Padfoot and Prongs.
--Padfoot
I stared at the note, puzzled.
"Hey, you're back early."
I jumped, shoving the parchment into the book and snapping it shut, my head whirling to see Harry, a big grin on his face. "Why do people always have to jump out and scare me like that!?" I demanded, a hand to my heart as I tried to regain a normal breathing pattern.
"Sorry." His grin turned to a smile and he shrugged, sitting next to me.
"Dumbledore told me I didn't have to go to detention tonight," I replied, remembering his question.
"Cool." He started tugging on a loose string. "So, eh, you're gonna go with us to the Hogsmeade Harvest tomorrow?"
"If that's ok with all members of the party?" I raised an eyebrow, nodding towards a glowering Hermione.
"Yea, sure. It's not a problem." He assured me. "Even some of the teachers're going."
"Wow." I tried to act impressed, but in reality, I wasn't sure if that was exciting or not.
He laughed, ducking his head. "So, eh…. You're reading a book!" he pointed at my book.
"Yea," I glanced down to the cover. "I sure am."
Our inane conversation followed for several more minutes, his bright green eyes meeting mine and holding them for longer and longer periods of time. And, despite the surge of warmth I got remembering Lupin's soothing comments, having those green eyes two feet in front of me made it seem so long ago. And at least he was plausible. My age, give or take a year.
By the time we mutually decided to go to bed, I felt my cheeks would either burst from too much smiling, or spontaneously combust from the constant blushing.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then." Harry said softly, walking me to the stairs.
"Yea," I blushed again. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
I giggled (completely uncharacteristic for me) and stumbled up the stairs, noticing that he waited for me to reach the top before turning to head to his own rooms. The similarities of him and Professor Lupin were eerie. And as I climbed into bed, I found myself comparing the two in my mind.
None of it mattered when I woke up. Hermione, a smug smirk of satisfaction (alliteration is cool!) on her face, was sitting on her bed, waiting for me to wake up.
"Oh come on, I couldn't possibly have done anything wrong already today!?" I groaned, yawning.
She ignored my comment and cracked the cover of an oddly familiar book. "Casey-" She read, from a written inscription, "-don't ever give up on your artwork. I can see your soul in it—a treasure more valuable than gold."
I bolted upright, hands outstretched for my book. "That's my book!"
"Signed, R. Lupin." She finished. She arched an eyebrow. "R. Lupin? On a first initial basis now, are you?"
"Give it back!" I made a grab for it, but she easily held it over my head. "I didn't know he had written that!"
She snorted. "Of course not."
"I didn't!" I protested. "Please give it back!"
"I wonder if Professor McGonagall knows about Lupin giving you gifts…" she mused out loud, tapping her chin in mock thought.
"Please, Hermione…" I felt like crying. "It was just to cheer me up."
"I know," she grinned, startling me. "It's too easy to get you upset." She handed me the book and leaned forward conspiratorially. "But if I picked a professor to get gifts from, it'd certainly be Lupin."
I stared at her, shocked, as she winked at me. Hermione, winking. At me.
"Hurry up and get dressed—we'll miss breakfast!"
As I scrambled to find something clean, I shot her a suspicious look. "What's with you?"
She shrugged, ducking out of the way of an airborne sock. "I figured the only way to get rid of you is by being your friend. Then I won't notice so much when you're around to bother me."
"Thanks… I think…" I pulled a black sweater on over my head, my hair sticking up with static.
"Come on, come on!" She grabbed my hand and practically ran me down the stairs. "So, honestly, what is going on between you and Lupin?"
"What!? Nothing!" I tried to steady myself as we whizzed around a corner.
"Oh come off it," she rolled her eyes. "Every day in class… It's like watching one of those sappy movies on the telly, back at home. If he's not lookin' at you, you're lookin' at him. Always asking you to answer in class…" she shook her head. "It's almost disgusting, if it wasn't so interesting."
"I have to look at him! He's the teacher!"
"Right…. And now he's giving you hard-to-find books? With a personal message signed R. Lupin!?"
"He's twice my age!"
"What'll Harry say when he finds out?"
"There's nothing to find out about!" I began, but as we entered the Great Hall, she silenced me with a nod and sat down.
I ate in moderate silence, shooting her looks of questioning and perplexing confusion. But she managed to avoid them, chatting on and on and on to Harry and Ron, both who were excited as anything about the trip. Their conversation, which I didn't understand a word of, finally tuned itself out of my mind, and I let my eyes wander the crowded hall. Draco, flanked as always by his two goons, was aiming muffins at an unsuspecting Ravenclaw youngster. When it hit her in the back of her head, she began bawling, and Draco was chastised by McGonagall.
As I looked further up, I came eye-to-eye with Snape, who was glowering at me with a look of pure evil.
I stared back, our eyes clashing as I could hear his voice in my head, "You got away last night, American, but you just wait till next time."
I jerked my eyes away, face heating. Lupin, looking weary, was listening intently to Professor Flitwick as they both ate the same kind of muffins Draco was using as projectiles. Even from far away, I could see how bright his eyes were, as they flicked from Flitwick to the muffin in his hands, to Flitwick again. I could watch him forever…. So dreamy…
"A-hem." Hermione cleared her throat loudly, drawing my eyes back to the table I was seated at.
"Huh?"
"Are you ready?" All three of them were staring at me.
"Yea, alright."