A/N: Day 3 of the Midterm Marathon. Merry Christmas!

Chapter Thirty-Five

Prisoner of Azkaban

~ Remus Lupin ~
"So. Has Harry said yes yet?"

I didn't even bother to look up from the pile of essays that I was up to my elbows in, knowing exactly who it was and why the question was being asked from the moment that Sariah had stepped into the room. For one thing, everyone else knocked when they were coming into my classroom, even Severus. For another, there could only be one thing that such a question would be asked about. And anyways, it would be impossible for me to mistake Sariah's voice, enhanced werewolf senses nonewithstanding.

"Yes."

Her tone brightened. "When will you start teaching him?"

I raised an eyebrow at her and looked up. She was perched on the edge of my sofa, hair tumbling in a wild mess around her shoulders and face flushed pink from the cold. "Sariah, can I ask why you're so concerned?" I said as exasperatedly , smiling so she would know that I was merely teasing.

"There's another Quidditch match coming up?"

"Sariah."

She raised her hands defensively. "Remus, Professor McGonagall is already on everyone's case about it. She doesn't want her prize Seeker falling off again." A flicker passed over Sariah's face. "I think we all do not need a heart attack again."

I put down my quill. I was in perfect agreement there.

Sirius was Harry's official godfather, but . . . well, with Peter dead and Sirius incarcerated, I did feel a little responsible for Harry. And I knew Sariah felt the same, since she had been rather close to Lily.

"Well, whenever I find a boggart, I'll let you know."

"Do you want me to help?"

I smiled patiently at her. "Sariah, I really do think that I can find a boggart on my own. It's more a matter of chance than any particular skill, you know that. Although," I frowned, "I do wish I had known about it before I had had my third years get rid of it. It would have been easier than trying to search all the dark places in the castle."

Sariah tilted her head, as if considering another argument. I sighed inwardly. It was like the old times, I realized ruefully, where we spent more time poking holes in each other's arguments that trying to actually work together and be constructive. Of course, after we had peer reviewed each other, generally the finished product was a little better, but it also left behind rather bruised egos and a lot of topics that then needed to be refreshed or looked up. And bruised egos about the Patronus Charm . . . well, that would be nothing new, of course. It had taken me months to get the hang of it, and even longer before I had had a corporeal Patronus form.

"What if the boggart doesn't turn into a dementor?" Sariah inquired curiously. "I don't really think a Patronus Charm is going to do much about You-Know-Who."

I frowned slightly. I hadn't thought about that. But . . . "We can't practice on a real dementor, Sariah."

"Maybe you should have him practice the charm beforehand," she suggested.

My frown deepened. It was true, that was the normal procedure. I had only used the Patronus Charm a handful of times, and I had mastered it long before any of them. But at the same time, Harry's reaction to the dementors was so fierce that I feared if he didn't learn to cope with a watered down version, he might simply collapse the next time he faced the real thing and never have the time to cast the proper charm.

"Sometimes you need motivation to produce the full-fledged charm," was all I said.

Sariah cast me a doubtful glance. "And what was yours?"

"It was something to do. In between jobs." I shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. I didn't really feel like admitting that I still, sometimes, harbored the dream of becoming an Auror, and that my studies still tended to be heavily Defense Against the Dark Arts, like all Aurors specialized in.

She seemed to understand what I implied, though, because her jaw stiffened ever so slightly.

Sariah had never been shy around me, before and after it had been revealed that I was a werewolf, and she was generally very indignant about the prejudice surrounding my condition. But right now I didn't feel like listening to her ranting about the Ministry. It was only a few days after Christmas, after all, and I had had unfortunately suffered a full moon the day before it, leaving me passed out for the entire duration of the celebration. So I had more important things to discuss right now than werewolf prejudices that I was more than used to dealing with.

I stood. "Can you wait for a minute?"

"Yes?"

I laughed and touched her shoulder as I moved past her to the stairs that led to my chambers. She sounded so wary; it was like she thought I might hit her with a Giggling Hex whilst her back was turned.

It took a few seconds for me to track down where I'd stowed her present away, but somehow, in those same few seconds, Sariah already had managed to pull out from somewhere – probably via a Summoning Charm or an Engorgement Spell – a rather lumpy wrapped package. It wasn't badly wrapped, just oddly shaped, and the glittery wrapping cast pinpricks of light all over her face and the room.

I smiled and leaned against the door. "You read my mind."

She grinned and threw the present at me. "I was wondering if you'd remember eventually," she said with a shrug. "But if you didn't, I planned on just dumping it on you anyways and then hightailing it out of there before you could hex me."

"I would not hex me."

"You hexed James . . . last time."

"That is because it was James," I remind her, carefully not completely the phrase as I automatically tried to. Before, it had always been James-and-Sirius, always. They were inseparable in almost everything and anything they did, and gift-giving . . . had been no exception. When the gifts didn't blow up in our faces, of course. Or run around yelling obnoxiously loud and rude poems. Or covering the entire room in glitter. Or transforming one's robes into sparkling mini-dresses. Or . . . Maybe Sariah had a point. "That doesn't count, Sariah, James's presents always caused complete havoc and you know it."

"Lily's did too, sometimes."

I shuddered. James and Sirius were daredevils on their own – had been, I corrected myself – but when Lily got into the game . . . Then it was like open season. "Don't remind me."

"I try not to remember either."

I sat down beside her, peeling away the wrapping as carefully as I could. And it turned out that I had been right; the wrapping was fine, it was just the package that was awkward and oddly-shaped, leaving the wrapping to look awful while really it was a fine job.

And my breath caught. "Sariah . . ."

I remembered these books. Well, I remembered the stories in them. But they'd been cleared out of the house when I had been first bitten, on the doctor's orders, to prevent me from "getting any foolish ideas from that Muggle trash". But I had still, always, been fascinated with the Muggle fairytales regardless. And these were beautiful . . .

Sariah peeked at me. "Are they all right? I wasn't sure if you – "

"Sariah, they've beautiful. Thank you." I looked up and smiled at her, seeing her relax ever so slightly. "Now come on, your turn."

She eyed the package in her hand dubiously before tearing into it, clearly not sparing the wrapping paper a single glance. Then again, Sariah always had been slightly more impatient for results than I had been, and –

"Oh!" Sariah gasped, lifting the delicate silver chain out of its cushion. A diamond shaped in the form of a budding flower hung from it, clear and sparkling like a star in the sky in the lamplight. I had helped Lily pick it out once, many years ago, never suspecting that she would turn around and tell me to give it to Sariah and then ask to at least date her, if not marry her, and also never suspecting that she would be dead a month later and that Sariah and I would thence be parted for over a decade.

Anyways, it seemed appropriate to give the gift to her because it had been intended for her now before something else tore us apart.

My stomach clenched uncomfortably. I didn't want to have to be separated from Sariah again. I missed her so much, and of course there was still the question of why she seemed to have no recollection of our kiss after the Last Dance, but I was willing to set it all aside if we could just . . . be friends. For now. For as long as possible, if Sariah didn't want to go any further, which I didn't think she did.

Sariah tilted the necklace, sending more pretty casts of light around the room as the diamond flower shifted and the chain twinkled sweetly.

"It's beautiful," she said sincerely.

I smiled, trying to calm my racing heart and biting back my first response. I told Lily it would fit because it was beautiful and it reminded me of you. That's why it should be yours. Instead, I said, "I'm glad you think so."

"Put it on for me?"

"Of course."

I had just clicked the latch when Sariah said, "Can I ask for another present?"

I tensed at her tone. It was that tone that told me that either she was plotting something or . . . plotting to plot something. Nevertheless, it never boded well. For me. Or for her, sometimes. Usually. "Can I ask what it is first?"

"I'm not James," she sniffed.

"No, you're Sariah Alycone," I said, unable to stop my faint smile. "And if you had been James, I would have said no immediately."

"Right." She hesitated. "Can you teach me too?"

"What?"

"The Patronus Charm. Can you teach it to me as well? I . . . I still have to go by the dementors whenever we go into Hogsmeade and it's . . . unnerving."

I reached for my wand. "Of course." I didn't want her near the dementors, but I couldn't stop her, and I could guess as to which memories they would drag up from the depths of her dark memories. "It's rather simple, Sariah."

I walked her through it, twice, and then had her attempt it.

Five minutes later she was still frustrated.

"It's so . . . insubstantial," she muttered angrily, gripping her wand so tightly it looked like it was about to crack, while wisps of silver-blue drifted lazily in front of her, refusing to coalesce into any kind of meaningful shape.

"It's better than my first try," I offered placating.

She flicked her wand and ended the spell. "Can I see yours? So when mine actually works, I'll know that it does and that I'm not hallucinating."

I laughed. "Oh, you'll know, Sariah."
"Please?"

So I sighed, and focused on that brilliant bit of memory that I rarely ever thought about, tugging it out of the recesses of my mind until it shown before me, and tried very hard not to stare at Sariah, so much more beautiful now than she had been when we were seventeen and young and innocent, as I remembered the kiss that I never had forgotten even when she had, and said, "Expecto Patronum."

The silver-blue wisps flowed from my wand, smoothly joining to become a large wolf that padded forward and mimed sniffing at Sariah, who laughed in delight and tried to pet it, and then remembered that it wasn't quite fully corporeal in that sense.

And I leaned back, and added another snapshot to the growing treasure of warm memories of the woman I loved, laughing and beautiful, in the back of my mind.