As promised before, three chapters at a time. I'm sorry for the big jump in the timeline here—I'm trying not to make this an entire saga. Hope you like these. :) –and as always, JK Rowling owns all.
Ps---sorry it took three days to post this—for some unknown reason, it aborts my uploads and claims its not saved as an HTML file. "But it is, darn computer!!!!!!!! RAORRR!"
Chapter Twenty-Two: One More Apology
"Severus—what can I do for you?"
I could see Remus opening the door from the tiny crack between the wardrobe doors. Snape pushed him aside and came stalking into the room, looking around suspiciously.
"Did you have company? I could have sworn I heard voices…"
"Just talking to myself."
Snape turned to glare at him. "I'm not even going to pretend to like you, Lupin. I'm not going to go through all the formalities here—just a simple straight-forward conversation. Think you can manage that?"
"As long as you can." Remus' voice had an edge to it, and his arms were crossed over his chest.
"I'm not a fool—I see a lot more than most will give me credit for."
"I'm not sure I follow."
I backed up against the wardrobe wall as Snape passed by, his movement sending a soft breeze towards me. Only too late did I remember Lupin's painting, lying forgotten on his bed.
"I think this," he had picked it up and was smirking at Lupin, "says it all, Professor."
Remus had paled considerably. But, to his credit, he remained standing tall and proud, exuding that nobility I had been so drawn to the first time I had ever met him. "Do you have something against art, Severus?"
"Don't insult my intelligence, werewolf! I know damn well it's her—your little protégé. And I know quite a few people who'd be extremely interested in discovering this secret little love affair you're having."
"I'm sorry I have you so suspicious, Severus," Remus took the painting from him and set it on his desk, smoothing the edges absently. "Next time I'll be sure to paint a brunette."
"All I want is an admission!"
"I'm afraid you'll not be getting one from me. I have nothing to admit."
They stood, eyes flashing, daring the other to go one step further.
"You mark my words---I'll be watching you so closely, you won't be able to sneeze without me knowing it," Severus finally said, jabbing a finger in Remus' direction.
"Is your own life so dull that you need to dedicate it to mine?" was the only answer he evoked.
"You've been able to keep it hidden so far—but sooner or later, you'll fall. And I'll be there to kick dirt on you when you do."
He stomped from the room, giving the door a resounding slam. Remus' shoulders slumped forward and his face drained of color the second the door had shut, sinking into the desk chair. A hand went up to cover his eyes, and I was almost reluctant to step from the wardrobe and disturb him.
"Well," he said.
"And I thought he had it out for me," I joked, laughing nervously.
He managed a small smile. "Severus has a talent for creating misery for others."
We both stood in quiet reflection.
"I better go." I said finally.
"Yea. Might be a good idea." He lowered his hand and offered me a forced smile. "Sorry if my letter worried you. I just…get feelings sometimes. Usually they're for nothing."
"And I'm sorry if my visiting hours are slightly inconvenient for you," I returned, halfway to the door. I had my hand on the knob when I heard him half-whispering.
"Pity," he muttered, his brown head cupped in his palm. "Being accused and not even having any guilt to make it interesting."
I silently slipped into the hall, shutting the door softly so I wouldn't disturb his thinking process. But I agreed with him. Being accused of something I wasn't guilty of, despite my wish to be.
But what happened back there? I asked myself, remembering the moment when he had almost broken the teacher/student barrier and touched my face. That was new.
And wonderful, another part of me sighed dreamily.
And I, of course, had to agree.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Tis the Season to do Shopping
A silent agreement had been made that night between Professor Lupin and I. I suppose Snape's warning had been a wake up call for the both of us. No matter what the reason behind the action, when a teacher and a student spent more time together than what was deemed necessary, people paid attention. And even though we weren't in the middle of a torrid love affair, like Snape believed, I think we both realized, somewhere deep inside of ourselves, that the possibility was an ever-present issue between us. At least, I did. Professor Lupin had perfected his emotionless, unpenetreable mask so well, I couldn't even see his thoughts in his normally expressive eyes. Which was slightly saddening… No longer would our eyes meet across the classroom and have a conversation without any words—that had been ruled "inappropriate" by the silent agreement and had stopped, although I have to admit that neither one of us was perfect at observing the unspoken rules. There were times when I could feel his eyes on me as I wrote notes down from the board, and more than once he had caught me watching him he wasn't speaking in front of the class. But on the whole, any unscholarly conversations had stopped, much to my dismay. I wouldn't allow myself to pay him any more unexpected visits, not even when he asked me if I'd like a cup of tea with him. And he never sought me out in the gardens anymore, not even after the first snow of the season and the whole school seemed to be outside, participating in a massive snow-ball fight.
It was that day, the last Saturday of November, when I was approached by Hermione. She was decked out in coordinating mitten/sweater/boot ensemble, and hadn't been actively participating in the snow ball fight for most of the afternoon—simply shouting "Watch it! Here's a big one, Ron!" from the sidelines as she did her homework.
"Hey, Case—gotta minute?"
"Sure-" I turned my head, which two sixth year Slytherins took as an opportune moment to hit me in the face with snow. As I wiped the ice from the back of my neck and scowled menacingly at them, I followed Hermione towards the out-of-target area.
"Um, is there something you'd like to talk about?" she asked, eyebrows knitted together in a worried frown.
"Is there?" I asked, trying to think of what she might be talking about.
"You've been acting moody lately. And really quiet. You're grades have been slipping… You don't even make up songs about Snape anymore. You used to love that."
"Oh." I shrugged. "Just been predisposed. Have a lot on my mind."
"Like what?"
"Just stuff." I busied myself with making another snowball.
"Casey." Her voice was stern, making me look up in surprise. "What is it?"
"Nothing!" I said defensively. "I'm just… thinking a lot."
"You can tell me, you know. I won't tell Harry or Ron. Maybe it's about Harry or Ron?" she asked softly, almost motherly, putting her mittened hand on my shoulder.
"No, it's nothing like that…" I sighed, tossing the snowball from hand to hand. We stood in the snowy silence, the roar from the snowball fight a mere echo in the background. "Last Thursday was Thanksgiving." I said finally.
Hermione looked confused for a moment, then a realization dawned on her. "Oh my gosh, yea it was! Why didn't you say something!? Dumbledore would've made a special meal for you or something."
My eyes were on the snowball in my hands. "I didn't want any special attention. It's just a silly holiday. Nothing to make a big deal out of."
"That's it, isn't it? This is the holiday season—you miss your parents, don't you?"
"I always do."
Her expression had softened and she gave me a hug. "Oh, Casey, I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about how you must be feeling right now."
"Hey, it's alright," I said, embarrassed by her sudden showering of warmth. "It's just a little homesickness. No big deal."
"No wonder you've been so preoccupied! I would be, too!" She tsked with her tongue and shook her head. "Well. We'll find a way to make you feel better."
"That's not necessary—I feel fine," I began, but she was determined.
"Hey! Next weekend is Hogsmeade! We'll have to do Christmas shopping. How much money d'you have?"
I thought to the only letter I had received from my estranged relations. It had been a week ago, and all it had contained was a letter with a formal "hope you're well and fine". No money attached. "Not much." I admitted.
"Well that's ok. I'm sure we can all lend you some until you can pay us back."
"Wouldn't that be like you buying yourself Christmas presents?" I asked, but she wasn't listening anymore.
"Oh! And we have to get formal robes for the Holiday dance… That's always fun… And I think my parents'll let me stay over the break, so we'll all be together… We'll make sure you have so much fun, you won't even know you're not at home."
She was so caught up in making plans and distractions for us, I couldn't help but give a resigned sigh and pretend to be interested. After all, she didn't have to go out of her way like this to make me feel better. It was nice to be cared about like that.
"Whaddya think about this one?"
It was the following Saturday, and Hermione was holding a dress up to herself and modeling it for me.
"It's ok," I said slowly, narrowing my eyes in thought. "Looks kinda… lacey, though."
"I like it!" she protested, fingering the seemingly infinite number of lace ribbons on the edge.
I shrugged, turning back to the rack of dresses. "Whatever. It's your dress, not mine."
"I'm gonna try it on," She grinned, her face lighting up excitedly as she hurried to stand in line behind a dozen other Hogwarts girls who wanted to try on a dress. I rolled my eyes, but smiled at her eagerness.
"You guys are still in here!?" Ron asked, annoyed, as he and Harry found me. I smiled absently, humming, pulling a long blue dress from the rack and holding it up.
"Hey, that's nice," Harry interrupted, while Ron carried on about the quirkiness of women and shopping for clothes. They were both bogged down by huge bags, filled, no doubt, with Christmas presents. I myself only had one bag at my feet—dwarfed by their huge ones. But it held everything I would need.
"You're right, Case—too lacey," Hermione had returned, looking discouraged at the loss of a prospective dress. She hung it on the rack with a sigh and began pawing through the ones across from me.
"What does it matter!? It's a dress, you'll wear it one time…" Ron complained.
"We have to look beautiful," Hermione explained.
"Just pick one! I wanna go see Fred and George's stuff over at Zonko's!"
"Then go, Ron! We're not forcing you to stay!" Hermione huffed, pushing past him.
He sighed, rolling his eyes at Harry, but remained while we searched and searched. An interesting thing about shopping in Wizard Dress Shops---no two dresses were alike. It was awesome.
While we looked for the perfect dress, Ron and Harry decided to look, too.
"Oh, Harry! Does this one make me look fat!?" Ron asked, voice high pitched and screechy.
"I look like a blimp!" Harry returned melodramatically. "I won't eat another thing for the rest of the month!"
"Ohhh, Har—that one brings out the green in your eyes."
"Found it!" I cried triumphantly, interrupting their laughter. I pulled the hanger from the rack and hurried to the dressing room before they could see it. I wanted it to be a surprise—no one at Hogwarts had ever seen me dressed up before.
I tried it on quickly, smiling at my reflection in the mirror, doing a twirl to make the skirt swish. "Why Remus—I'd be positively thrilled to dance with you!" I giggled, then blushed madly as I realized what I was doing. It had been a month since I had allowed myself the girlish fantasy involving my teacher. The sudden outburst made me remember everything I had been trying to ignore, making me realize how much I missed talking to him like a friend.
My grin had faded and I changed back into my clothes without another look in the mirror. I paid for the dress (thanks to the generous contributions of my loving friends), wrapped it in plastic, and held it against myself protectively, not saying another word while Hermione found her own dress and paid for it.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Conspiracies and PMS
Christmas was an exciting time of the year, and being in such a beautiful castle made it ten times more wonderful. Everywhere you looked, twenty foot Christmas trees, decked in candles, holly, streamers and sparkling, twinkling ornaments adorned the floor. Starry strands of lights replaced the burning lamps in the hallways. And having the white snow frosting every window, covering every inch of school grounds only added to the magical feeling Christmas evoked in me.
With the dance drawing near (it was on the last day before the holidays officially began, meaning everyone in school would be attending) people were gossiping non-stop over who was taking who, and what their dresses looked like. Except me. I would always find something I needed to do when the topic turned to the dance, then would hurry to uncover my dress and imagine myself dancing with Remus in it. By this time, our eyes barely even met anymore. I began believing I had imagined the whole thing in his room by then. It was very lonely.
One night, about the second week in December, I was in the library, studying for finals in Potions. Hermione was across from me, doing extra homework, and for some reason or other, she felt the need to bring up the subject of the dance.
"Who d'you wanna go with?" she asked conspiratorially, leaning forward.
"Hey, I'd be happy to just be asked." I answered back.
"Oh come on, Casey! You have to have someone you'd want to go with!"
Yea—I do. Professor Reeje.
"No one in particular."
"C'mon! Tell me! I'll tell you who I wanna go with!"
I rolled my eyes. Everyone knew who she wanted to go with. "So I take it Ol' Ron hasn't popped the question yet, eh?"
"Ron?" she raised an eyebrow in confusion. "What about Ron?"
"Ron… the guy you've been spending an awful lot of time with lately…?"
"Oh, gosh! No, I'm just helping him with his Herbology! No, no… You didn't think I want to go with Ron-?" she laughed. "How cute-you did! No, I meant Harry."
"Harry!?" it was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
"Yea—promise not to tell, but … I've kinda had a crush on him since first year."
"Oh really… I'd a never guessed." I laughed nervously. She narrowed her eyes.
"Why do you sound so…guilty?"
"Huh!? Guilty? Me? Never!"
"He asked you, didn't he? Oooh, I knew he would!"
"Um, no, I don't know what you're talking about." I concentrated on my book.
"Cas-ey! You know I wanna go with him!"
"Then go with him. I'm not gonna stop you."
She slumped down into her chair. "He already asked you!"
"Does that mean I said yes?"
"So you said no?"
"Well…not exactly… I told him I'd have to think it over…"
"CASEY!"
"Well how was I supposed to know you wanted to go with him!!?"
"You could have asked!"
"I would think you'd have told me!"
She glared at the table top, arms crossed over her chest angrily. I sighed again.
"You can still go with him!"
"Not if you do!"
"I haven't said yes yet," I reminded her.
"He won't ask me unless you give him an answer first!"
"Why don't you ask him?"
"Girls don't ask guys to dances!" she said indignantly.
"Oh, right. Forgot." I rolled my eyes. "It's against your religion or something."
"Casey!!"
"What!? What am I supposed to do about it?" I shook my head. "If you want to go so badly, then ask him!"
She glared at the table top, arms crossed over her chest. "He'll say no. I know he will."
"That's the spirit!" I cheered.
She glowered at me.
"Look," I sighed. "Would you like me to ask him for you? Spare yourself the sheer terror of asking a guy to a dance?"
"He'll say, 'Gee, Herm, don't know… Casey hasn't given me an answer yet… I'll go if she says no, how's that?'." She muttered.
I lowered my eyes. "I'll say no if you really want me to."
"You will!?" Her bad mood forgotten instantly, she looked at me hopefully.
"Yea, sure. I'm sure someone else'll ask me." I shrugged, while my insides dropped. A week until the dance, and I'd only been asked by one guy. And I was going to have to say no to him. Another wasted dress.
"Oh, thank you Casey! OOOH! I love you!" She squealed excitedly, nearly tipping over her chair to give me a hug.
"No prob," I forced myself to smile, returning her hug. "I'll talk to him tonight."
She grinned and returned to her homework. "You are a goddess!"
"Thanks."
"And don't worry—I'm sure someone else'll ask you." But it was obvious it wasn't something she was too concerned about. Now that Harry was an option for her, she didn't feel the need to pester me with questions on who my dream date would be.
"I'm kinda tired—I'll see you later," I mumbled, grabbing my books and hurrying out of the library. She barely glanced up, a grin still lit across her face. I went straight to my dormitory, not even bothering to say hello to Ron and Harry (both engrossed in their own homework) and crawled into my bed. Pulling the curtains around it, I lifted the end of my mattress and pulled out Art Through the Ages. Whispering "Lumos" under my breath, I set my wand next to me and cracked the cover, pulling out a sheath of drawings, mostly done in pencil, of my beloved Professor.
Don't worry—I'm sure someone else'll ask you.
If only he would, I thought sadly. An unnoticed tear trekked down my cheek and fell onto the edge of the papers.
"Hey, Harry, can I talk to you a sec?" I asked, taking a seat across from him. He looked up from his homework with a smile.
"Sure thing, Case."
I gave Ron a pointed look.
"Oh, right." He raised his eyebrows, but gathered up his books and found residence at a nearby table. I leaned closer to Harry.
"Look… Um, about the dance…"
He looked at me hopefully, his green eyes waiting.
"I can't go with you."
"Wha-? Why not?"
"I…I already have a date…" I trailed off, already knowing how unbelievable I sounded.
"Yea, sure. Like who?"
Maybe it was the way he said it, maybe it was because I was already in a foul disposition, but for some reason, that made me angry.
"Whaddya mean, like who? What—you're the only guy who'd want to ask me to the dance?"
"I didn't mean that, Casey-"
"ARGH! You are so impossible! What, is me having a date with someone other than the Godlike Harry Potter such a hard idea for you to understand!? Maybe I do have another date! Ha! Maybe I have ten other dates, and all of them are better dancers than you!"
"Yea, well maybe I have ten other dates that are prettier than you!" he said back hotly, then clasped a hand over his mouth. "Casey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate-"
"Then why don't you go ask one of them? More specifically, why don't you go ask Hermione, then? She obviously believes there's something attractive and likable in you!"
"God, are you PMSing or something!? What the heck is the matter with you tonight!?"
"Never, ever, EVER blame my vengeful fury on PMS! EVER!" I shouted.
"Can you feel the love tonight," Ron, ever the humorous one, sang from behind us.
"How 'bout I take that love and shove it up your-"
"What is going on with you, Casey!? Ever since Halloween, you've been acting strange."
"According to you, I'm always acting strange! Maybe that's just my normal personality!"
He stared at me evenly, unblinking. I lowered my eyes. "Look. I can't go with you. But Hermione can. So please ask her."
"Did she tell you to say no to me?"
"It doesn't matter. You'll have more fun with her, anyway."
"Who are you going with?"
"Don't worry about that. Besides, we can still sit together."
He shook his head. "Something's up with you, Case."
"You're just jumping to conclusions." I sighed. "I'm just tired. And sick of studying."
"Think maybe we should have a group hug?" Ron suggested, grinning madly.
"Bite me," I snapped, standing up. "I'll see you guys later."
"Raor!" Ron made claws and swiped them at me. "Someone needs a nap."
"Leave her alone," Harry muttered as I made my across the Common Room.
"Hey, Neville, how's it going?" I asked, seeing my pal the Walking Chaos.
"Casey! Hi!"
"Hey—d'you need a date for the dance?"
"Well…um….yea…" he blushed.
"Great. So do I. Let's solve the problem by going together. Whaddya say?"
"Really?" he looked shocked. "Yea! That'd be great!"
"Fabulous. Thanks, Neville." I flashed him a grateful smile before trooping upstairs.
"Bye!" he called out after me.