Before she left the party, Esther gave Lily a blue scarf embroidered with red roses she'd made and pecked her cheek goodbye. Back in her room, Kitty declared a game of "Snog, Marry, Kill," sourcing the Gryffindor boys in their year while everyone imbibed in Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
"Ugh," Ginny pulled a face.
"Vomit flavour?" Cari asked.
"This game," Ginny's cat, Arrow, kneaded at her thighs until her mistress pet her.
"What's Snog, Marry, Kill?" Marlene asked.
"You choose the blokes you could see yourself snogging, marrying, and killing. Like gun to your head, you have to choose someone."
"But what if we don't like any of the Gryffindor boys?" Lily asked.
"You want Snape then?"
"No! I just mean..."
"It's just a game."
"Lily goes first, since it's her birthday!" Marlene pushed.
"Fine. I'd kill Potter."
"That's a given," Ginny agreed.
Lily thought about her options. She didn't know anyone besides Remus well. Pettigrew was kind in choir. Shacklebolt, Dobson, and Shafiq sometimes studied in the library near her. Dobson, who had such a shy exterior last year was much more sweet and talkative this year. But he spent most of his time on the Quidditch pitch now.
"I'd probably marry Remus," she chose him only because he was the most sensible option.
"I knew it!" Cari fisted the air.
"Are there any other neanderthals in our year you could picture yourself barely standing the next fifty years with?" she scoffed. Who would she snog? Not Remus, she'd already tried picturing herself kissing Remus and it seemed too wrong. Was it possible to kiss and kill the same bloke? She could see Potter's bottom lip as his teeth grabbed it saying her name Ev-ans, Ev-ans. That'd be a brilliant revenge plot. But he was definitely her number one to kill, so she decided, "And snog Dobson, I suppose."
"Mmm, goin' for a Quidditch player," Kathryn said, "But I've tried; he's hard to get. Cari?"
"Okay, promise to not make fun of me! If ya make fun of me I'll take a long walk off the Astronomy Tower!" she pointed at Ginny.
"Oh, we'll make fun of you," Ginny said as the same time Lily promised, "Of course."
"It just won't leave the room," Kathryn assured, "What's said in the dorm stays in the dorm." A sacred pact.
Cari paused for a moment, considering a bean, "I wouldn't mind snogging...Sirius Black."
"He's a dimwit!" Lily said.
Cari shrugged, "He's funny. And a fit Quidditch player. And doesn' always look at my right side in every conversation we 'ave."
"That's a rather low bar," Ginny observed.
"Not to me. Anyway, Marry: Shacklebolt or Lupin. They're both mysterious, which is terribly romantic."
"Shacklebolt's loaded though," Ginny observed.
"Good point. Kill: Barty Arcuri, I s'pose. He makes fun of me sometimes. But in a different way than Sirius. What about you, Kat? This was your idea."
"Snog: Eddard Dobson. I'll get there eventually. Marry: Pettigrew. Kill: Remus Lupin. He's quite two faced what with his kiss-up studiousness, Marauding ways, and that language...Hmm...maybe I'll actually snog him and kill Arcuri instead. Gin?"
"How's Lupin different from what you do? Miss Goody Two Shoes likes to snog anything with a heartbeat!," Ginny shifted to herself, "I don't want to marry anybody," the witch complained.
"It's not reality," Lily placated.
She finished a handful of beans before declaring, "James Potter. I'd Snog, Marry, and Kill James Potter. It's perfect. He's enthusiastic, so the snogging would be fantastic. But on our honeymoon, I'd strangle him, and I'd inherit his family fortune!"
"Or Lawson would hafta cart ya off to Azkaban," Cari clutched her sides in laughter.
"That's actually such a brilliant plan," Lily snorted. "Can I get in on that action?"
"Definitely. With us working together, we'd never get caught," Ginny winked. "Marlene, you're the only one who hasn't gone."
"I don't want to marry Potter. But I wouldn't kill him either. I've known him since we were tykes at the same Quidditch camp as Dorcas; he's just a silly boy who means well."
Lily snorted, "Start off with who you'd snog," she suggested.
Marlene tugged on a plait, considering a green bean between her other fingers before popping it in her mouth, "Eugh, boogey," and ran to the toilet.
It was several minutes before she returned, "Have we still not opened presents?"
"Who would you snog Marlene McKinnon?!" Kitty demanded.
"I s'pose I've already kissed Shacklebolt when MacMillan gave us those pastries," Marlene finally shrugged. "Maybe I'd kill Black but marry him first. Like Ginny's thinking of doing. Then I could be my own person and the pressure would be slightly less for being tied down to what's best for our honour and all that rot."
After the beans were gone, Lily opened presents. Really touching were the new yellow trainers from Mum and Dad (who enlisted Edna Brown's help utilising the Owl Post). They actually went to the trouble of using the Owl Post for her and supported her running. Sev gave her a book on defensive fighting styles, since that was something she was interesting in learning more about. Remus did send her a kind letter that had come with the post, and she treasured her handmade gifts. Kathryn gave her makeup. Marlene, an otter skin muff. Ginny gave her a pair of fuchsia running leggings, which combined with the ones her parents gave her for Christmas now brought her up to three. Cari gave her a coupon for free flying lessons with her whenever she wanted to help "get over her fear of reachin' out for quaffles."
All that was left was an ornately wrapped golden present. Kathryn eyed it suspiciously, as there was no name, until Marlene assured them the fancy ribbon was a signature of Twillfit and Tattings ("The fanciest designer robes store in all of London"). Lily still used her wand to tear the paper and lift the lid off the box. She pulled out a teal, lambs-wool lined jacket.
"Ah, that's fab!"
"Absolutely gorgeous!"
A note was tied with a ribbon to the lapel: Sincerest and most heartfelt apologies for de-feathering you in DADA. They didn't have feathers and wool, but this should keep you warm. ~Esq. J.P. Potter? Potter had sent this? She huffed, if he thought things could be smoothed over by buying her forgiveness, he had another thing coming! She held the coat up. It wasn't down, it wasn't lightweight, it wasn't muggle.
"I think ya should put it on, at least," Cari said when Lily voiced the possibility of returning it.
"Or we could light it on fire and leave it outside their door," Ginny encouraged. Lily was far more tempted by that idea, but decided she'd try it on first.
As much as it pained Lily to admit it, therefore she never would, it was nifty the hand pockets were spelled to keep them warm and the breast pockets had some sort of charm to be roomier than any pockets she'd ever had before. It also fit like a glove.
"Don' let your pride stand in the way of keepin' it. As fine as we are lettin' ya continue borrowin' our cloaks, ya need outerwear," Cari encouraged.
"It's not pride, it's principle," Lily thought deeply.
"It does look groovy, now that it's on you," Ginny said.
Lily decided to keep the coat. But why did she feel so defeated?
***first quarter***
James adjusted his lucky pants underneath his trousers. The material was soft, albeit bunched against his thighs. He owned a few pairs of boxers, albeit opted for y-fronts more often than not. However, that didn't matter. Today was the day. The day people would talk about for the rest of history. Chapter One to his biography. It would be the first match he played as Gryffindor's seeker. But first, first he had to finish executing his and Sirius' brilliant plan.
"Is it supposed to look that dark?" Sirius asked, stirring the brown batter in a tin bowl with a wooden spoon. The room they'd requested conveniently had an oven exactly the same as Mum's and all the pots and pans they needed, plus a recipe for brownies. After multiple trips pinching sparse amounts of sugar (they needed plenty for Valentine's Day as well) here and there along with other ingredients from the kitchens, he and Sirius were spending the night before the match preparing the ChocoLax potion laced pastries. That-Situation-Which-Should-Not-Be-Named two Christmases ago gave him the idea. Seekers need take only one bite to be out of the game and on the loo for several hours. The potion had, after all, had several extra months to strengthen in potency.
"I don't think it matters, so long as it's still brown." They'd added the potion to the batter. James adjusted his spectacles, looking at the recipe again.
"If they don't look appealing, no one will eat 'em," Sirius wiped his flour covered brow.
"I thought baking was supposed to be like Potions," James complained. He was beginning to regret not telling Peter and Remus what he'd been up to. Well, they knew he'd tested the potion out on Severus a few months ago, but not that it was serving a greater purpose. Peter's family baked and Remus was also generally knowledgable about recipes (he'd figured out candy corn and jelly, at least). But Remus would be the one to try and talk James out of it. He could tell, because the voice in his head telling him it was wrong to sabotage his own Quidditch team had sounded like the twitchy, tawny haired wizard. It was annoying.
"We've just got to add a bit of magical finesse!" Sirius poured the batter into an overly large pan while James lit the gas in the oven. A while later, the delicious chocolate smell began to change.
"The book says to stick a fork in the centre. If it comes out clean, they're finished." The two high-fived when the batter cooked and firmed properly. Only the edges looked questionably singed. They proceeded to bake a tray of boringly normal desserts.
"You remember what to do?" James asked Sirius. The partner-in-crime met his gaze with mirth-filled grey eyes, "Consider it already done."
James clapped him on the shoulder, "G-dspeed, my brother."
"I'm only sorry I'll miss watching you tear up those Snakes."
Sirius carried the trays of brownies into the locker room. A simple Alohamora offered him access to his teammates personal cubbies. Only the room doors were guarded with something stronger. Idiots.
Sirius put two extra special confectionary concoctions in the correct lockers, with regular ones set out for the rest of the team. There was a note, supposedly from Ravenclaws, about there being no hard feelings, and to avenge their defeat against Slytherin. The team began to trickle in shortly thereafter, wolfing down the pregame snack which should metabolize within a few hours, not causing the fit men nausea while performing such high intensity exercise. All but three.
"The things I do for you, Jamsie boy," Sirius muttered before taking a bite of a potion-laced brownie. Someone other than a seeker, and James Potter's best friend, no less, getting ill last minute would divert any possible suspicion from James, and all towards Ravenclaw.
The potion worked fast. Within a few minutes, all three boys were rushing to the loo.
"Shite!" Norton gripped his bowels.
Even though Sirius forewent breakfast that morning, he must have emptied out half his body weight. Blimey! Where's it all coming from? he sweated.
"What the hell? Thos griffin-fucking eagles!" Crabtree was outside yelling. "The girls! Make sure the girls haven't eaten any brownies!"
Dobson's voice came a few minutes later, "They weren't given anything."
A groan came from the captain, "You're in for beater. Potter! You're in for seeker."
The door to the toilets banged open, "You berks gonna be all right?"
Three moans of varying misery resounded.
"We've got to meet as a team to go over the plays again before the match begins. Don't die while we're gone. See Pomfrey as soon as you can leave!"
It was a while later before Sirius could stand to separate his arse from porcelain. His neighbours, who'd eaten the full brownies, were still violently ill. Sirius knew the match would be starting soon, and wanted to at least be close enough to hear the announcer, even if he had to stay near the locker room. However, first he needed to bin the other tray of brownies he'd set in the...
Oh dear, Sirius thought, Where's the tray gone to?
A pan of brownies was being passed around the Gryffindor stands. When it came to Lily and Kathryn, both remembered the Cautionary Tale of McKinnon's Christmas: 1971, and refused out of suspicion. At the front of the crowd, she watched several Gryffindor boys imbibe. Peter Pettigrew shoved the near entirety of one straight into his mouth. Remus took two.
The teams filed onto the field. Was that...Potter? Lily self-consciously wrapped her new coat tighter around herself before dipping hands in her pockets. It was just above freezing outside, and while there was no precipitation, the squally wind was bone chilling.
"Is Dobson playing?" Kitty said, absently twirling a curl.
The announcer, Smith again, confirmed: "Today we have Eddard Dobson subbing as beater for Black, and James Potter subbing as seeker for Norton!"
The captains shook hands. Lily watched Ginny shoot after the Slytherin chaser who caught the quaffle first. She lost concentration as many in the stand began pushing and shoving, some bent double, breaking for the stairs.
James mounted his Thunderbolt and took off at an angle into the high winds hitting the highlands. However, it didn't feel like particularly dark weather. No, James knew as a fresh bluster mussed up his hair this was merely a display of the element's whimsical power. The energy rushing through the crowded stands to the pitch hit in full force. James made a backwards loop on his broomstick. Yes! This felt right. But he had work to do. A boring and rather inactive job it was, finding and going after a snitch, but he bet he could do it in record time!
Dobson hit a bludger towards a Slytherin chaser, who, in his distraction, allowed the quaffle to be taken by Hampton. James began circling the pitch closer to the ground to seek out any glimmers of gold. Hampton scored.
A splash of teal amongst a sea of red and gold caught his eye. Evans got her gift! The pockets would be great in this weather.
Just above him, Crichet missed a bludger racing towards Hampton, which walloped her shoulder. She dropped the quaffle! How substandard! Without thinking, James swiftly ascended and, with the knob of his broom, sent the gravity cursed ball towards Hampton's good arm.
"Foul! That's a fuckin' foul!" the Slytherin keeper decried.
"Hooch does not penalise Potter's broom tap; made no physical contact. Hampton passes to Bannatyne."
James' heart soared as he himself did around the pitch. That was when he felt it—the roar of the spectators died down—the magical soul of the wind carried him as it would the sails of a voyager to a new land. How blissful, it was. With a glimpse out of the corner of his spectacles, James saw it: The snitch. Nearly fifty feet away. Maybe ten feet higher in altitude. James shot off.
Yaxley, the Slytherin seeker, began flying towards the snitch as well. James wanted to laugh. The slippery serpent wouldn't get there in time. His angle was completely wrong for the strong wind. And the breeze's fancy had shifted, granting James a forceful tail wind towards his target. While faster than he'd surely ever flown in practice, time itself slowed around James. He reached out his hand. There was no need to grasp the whirring ball for dear life. His palm glided into contact with the orb, clasping the delicate ball like a golden marigold from his mother's garden. He banked out of the gust which playfully tossed up his robes.
"James Potter has caught the golden snitch! Gryffindor beats Slytherin 170 to absolutely nothing! Take that, you legless lizards!"
Screams and cheers of excitement clanged together all at once. James held the snitch aloft in victory.
Monday at lunch, James sped out of the Great Hall clenching his bowels. Remus and Peter bumped fists under the table.
***waxing gibbous***
"You mean you're n-not going?" Peter asked Sirius.
"Of course I'm not going! The last dinner party was naff; only about collecting students from well to do families. I refuse to be one of them," Sirius replied, scrawling out another set of words for their Valentine's Day shenanigans.
Peter would have gone to the dinner party, had he received an invitation. However, he was fairly certain his Potions professor didn't even know his name.
"It was excruciatingly boring until we stepped in, Pete," James agreed with Sirius, deciding to forego the dinner as well. "I'm not spending the seventh best holiday of the year with a bunch of stuffy, sticks in the mud."
Remus held up the slip of parchment he was writing on in consideration, "I think we all know it's because Professor Slughorn's guest of honour tomorrow evening is a MediWitch and not some famous athlete or Mr. Potter."
Peter finished writing on his parchment slips and collected the others', along with the invisibility cloak. Remus accompanied him to the Hall of Reflection where they put the finishing touches on the sugary treats. The taller boy had insisted on supervising the rest of the project, lest Sirius and James get any notions about brewing love potions again. Peter wouldn't put it past either of them after what happened before the last Quidditch match.
"I b-believe lunch tomorrow will b lovely, Moony," Peter smiled up at Remus. This year would be more lowkey than last, albeit not in Remus' opinion, since this was involving more difficult spellwork. However Peter knew Remus was also glad they wouldn't be singled out in the limelight as well.
"I daresay you'd be correct, Pete," Remus grinned wryly back.
February the fourteenth was a great day to be at Hogwarts, in Peter's humble opinion. At breakfast, the Frog Choir sang one of Celestina Warbeck's classics: You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me. Nothing quite as charming as the way muggles sang of love, but the witches complimenting Peter on his way out of the Great Hall flushed him with pride.
In Charms, Professor Flitwick demonstrated a Cheering Charm to the class. Transfiguration brought with it turning flowers into butterflies. And, in History of Magic, Professor Binns prattled on about the history of Valentine's Day and February as a month of purification and new birth, from secret marriages to sacrificial rites performed where the great Romulus and Remus were suckled by a she-wolf (at this chronicle, Peter passed a note to Remus: Even your predecessor had a furry little problem).
As they approached the Great Hall, Peter felt the sweaty, heart pounding, exhilarating anticipation before setting off a prank. Breathe in. Count to five. Breathe out.
"Quit jumping about," Remus hissed to both him and James.
Precisely at noon, all four worked together to carry the weight of their candy confections and drop the full load over the student body. In a variant, but much improved version, of their candy corn rain, the love hearts they'd made fell at a slower pace.
Sugary discs of varying colours landed all around, with centred hearts, each containing special messages: Be Mine, Cheeky Lad, Kiss me, Love Bug, Dream On, Seek Me, I Love You, Lions Rule, Chase Me, Fab Arse, Hot Lips, Snog Sirius, Dance w/ Me, You're Fit, I'm Randy, Eat Me, Hot 4 You, Want You Now, Take it Off, Got Your Cock, Gr8 Pkg, Fuck Me, Spank Me... Wait. Who'd written that?!
Sirius cackled, "Cor, Remus!"
"Th-there are first years!" Peter exclaimed, half-horrified. It was the aforementioned group of students which were inhaling the treats without any suspicion.
"Oh, I made it three times better!" Remus rebutted.
"Why does so much of what they do involve food?" Bannatyne shook his head and hiccoughed. Several little red hearts floated out of his mouth.
Other students began hiccoughing as well. But not the Slytherins, who were belching loud and noxious gas.
"It takes real skill to get the green ones in and around their one particular table area," James bragged to Frank, who was rubbing his temples. He waved at the four of them and spoke, "Go...just go see McGonagall."
They didn't have to go to their head of house, so much as she came to see them. Tight-lipped. White as a banshee. Peter gulped.
"My office, now," she spoke tersely.
"This language is uncalled for, especially among your youngest peers!" Professor McGonagall was in the middle of her tirade.
"Sorry, Professor, I don't believe all of us knew it would get so bawdy," Remus spoke contritely.
WHAT? Peter thought. Remus wrote half the unspeakable sayings which ended up in the mix.
"The hand of one is the hand of all, in this case, Mr. Lupin. Horace mentioned he could appreciate extra help servicing his gathering this evening. The house elves will come fetch you accordingly."
Peter could think of far worse punishments. For example, traipsing through the Forbidden Forest at night. Besides, he'd actually get to attend one of Slughorn's parties!
"Minnie McGonagall meant 'servicing' Sluggy's party with extra holiday merriment, right?" Sirius asked as they walked to Herbology.
"Oh, it went without saying. She's a woman of few words, our head of house. With our mutual understandings, elaboration is not required." James agreed.
"No Potter and Black, this time," Lily observed the overly decorated Slug Club dining area for the evening.
"Probably got the sack after last time," Severus postulated with a half grin. That didn't make sense though, because the ruffians were at the Christmas party.
"Maybe punishment for those indecent love hearts," she guessed. They'd practically ruined a favourite childhood treat of Lily's.
Unfortunately, Lily found out just how correct she was when a familiar face poured her a punch beverage with cherries in it.
"Remus!" Her friend was dressed as the Hufflepuff server had been last time—in an olive green vest over a white shirt and silver cravat; a long white serviette draped over his unoccupied arm. He looked uncomfortable but played coy.
"Evenin' Miss Evans. Happy Day of St. Valentine, or Joyous Mid-Lupercalia Fest, whichever pagan ritual you prefer to observe in the muggle world."
She opened her mouth but he continued, instinctively knowing her unspoken question, "Professor McGonagall believed us 'Marauders' would like to keep the celebration going all the way up to Astronomy class tonight."
Sev hissed next to her. Peter, Potter, and Black were all pouring beverages, the latter two were trusted with wine.
"Remus, if there's any tom-foolery..." she wrapped her wrist in the serviette and threatened.
"If I were you," Remus' tone didn't change, but his voice did grow quieter so Severus wouldn't hear. He leaned in next to her ear, "I would avoid the wine. Which, we both know, you won't be partaking of anyway. It's harmless. Mostly aimed at Mr. Black's cousin and company."
Lily's eyes narrowed, "You don't have to stoop to their level."
"I'm not stooping." Lily sensed a tinge of irateness in his voice now. His voice dropped even lower to a whisper, "I'm my own person, on my own level. Ta." He pulled back, smiled, and moved on to Marlene and Michael McKinnon, the latter of which took punch and wine.
Up on the Astronomy Tower that evening, Sirius and James' incessant babbling was the only thing keeping Remus awake. That didn't mean he was able to focus on notes about the moon affecting the strength of dragon paths. His cravat was stifling. They hadn't time to change after cleaning from the dinner party. It had been a long day, and the full was only a couple nights away.
"As water reflects a fire's light, so the moon's Yin..."
Remus covered a yawn he couldn't stifle. He could feel Lily's eyes on the back of his head—smell the cherry punch she'd had at Slug Club. Had he been too snippish? For some reason there had been extra desire to...take her loftiness down a peg? Put her in her place? Merlin's sack, he was too separated from his himself to think properly.
"The sun overtakes darkness. The moon is hiding in space waiting, but its power still exists..."
Remus thought about last month, how much better his transformation had been. How much worse it was for those poor victims targeted by a werewolf pack. Monsters like him. He'd done his own research in the library's Moon Chart Scrolls/Stone Masonry/Cooking section. There had been another lunar eclipse the night he was bitten. Some werewolf had purposely chosen to curse him! To kill another human! The ramifications were gut-wrenching. He'd dared feel sympathy for the wolf that bit him!
A rumble inadvertently escaped his throat. James put a hand on his arm which practically burned in the frosty air.
Ghosts were assigned to lead them back to their houses and ensure no one breached curfew. Remus collapsed in the middle of their bed, unable to consider dressing in pyjamas. He felt someone's hands fumbling with his shoes before falling into a nightmare.
Memories of blood and tearing and Mum screaming turned to new visions...seen through a canine's colour spectrum...of a cave somewhere which smelled warmer, more earthy, like those two randy Slytherins he could hear making noises in the broom cupboard that one time...somehow, he knew he was in a different time...naked humans running through woods and dusty streets...carrying milky strips of delicious looking meat...carnal energy hung in the air...the coppery taste of blood lingered on his tongue when he licked his nose...The scene changed again. A modern city quarter...smells of more ritual magic and muggles...more strips of meat...watching...stalking...at a distance...no longer welcome this time...more blood...crying women...
Sirius woke somewhere around the witching hour, Remus shivering and whimpering next to him. It happened on occasion, albeit, Sirius thought it was only when the wizard allowed himself to get deep sleep. James' sleep talking and Peter's snoring were often more apt to cause him disturbance. Usually, Remus' small interruptions petered out and Sirius could fall back into his own adventure or misery (it was a coin toss). But tonight, the cries grew louder until a pathetic, almost inhuman sounding, "Hngh," keened from Remus' throat.
"Lumos," Sirius lit his wand.
"Wh's tha quaffle?" a poof of unruly hair entered Sirius' peripheral vision as James sat up a bit. He blinked a spectacleless gaze from Sirius to Remus. "Erm...should we wake him?"
"Dunno," Sirius whispered back. Sirius' rule of thumb for James waking himself was if he'd obviously crossed the line from nightmare to night terror. But they'd never had this discussion with Remus.
James rolled over Sirius to the middle, rubbing the werewolf's naff, vest-covered chest, "Moony, hey, Remus! It's okay, you're at Hogwarts!"
Remus gasped, sitting up, which moved Peter too much, waking the last boy up. When desperate pants slowed to a more normal breathing, Remus ripped off his cravat and vest before lying back down, "Fuck, sorry," he said blearily.
"'S no problem," Sirius replied. "What'cha dream about?"
"Shut up," Remus mumbled, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Ya need Pomfrey?" Peter asked.
"Nn-mm," he shook his head.
"But you're warm," James said.
"Imma monster," Remus replied quietly.
"No, you're not," James soothed.
"So itsa furry l'il problem thng?" Peter questioned.
Remus weakly swatted James' hand away, fisting his own in his eyes. "Stp, you're too close—too close." James clambered back over Sirius, who rolled away from Remus himself. Peter was already on the edge of his side. However, James pulled back a curtain and stood, "Lumos," returning with Sirius' birthday present from Andy, "How 'bout I read us a story? I sleep better when my parents do."
Sirius dozed off just as the prince was climbing up the tower on the maiden's long, luscious locks.
Friday, after classes, Remus bee-lined to the hospital wing. The moon wouldn't be full until tomorrow evening, but he was near having a proper mental break. The last two nights had left him nearly sleepless, so bad James and Sirius roused him. Reliving the attack in his dreams happened less frequently than even a few years ago, but still the memories often came around the full moon or living at home. He'd also dreamt of that land, hundreds of miles and years away. So vivid, so real, so salacious...it was a wolf there...not Remus. But why? Either way, something, was bringing on his nightmares. The last time he'd had dreams of the attack two nights in a row was over summer. These ones weren't the worst he'd ever had. Compared to others, and the fact he hadn't woken up screaming or crying, he'd say they were mild. But the furred body which was not his own, the muted colours and heightened senses, were deeply disturbing. As much as Remus liked to play the wizard with his school uniform, good marks, and magic wand—the wolf was always there too. Under the surface. Instincts waiting to kick in. And it terrified him. Remus knew it terrified him, thanks to a nifty boggart last summer. And fuck, he needed to calm down and get some sleep.
Honestly, he was impressed he'd made it through lessons.
Positively shaking, Remus could barely grasp the handles to the wing; his pained joints wouldn't cooperate. Madame Pomfrey finished treating an older student who'd had some sort of potion accident. She bustled over to him, hand guiding gently into her office for more privacy.
"Remus, dear, want a bed to rest in?"
His breathing became more ragged, he nodded.
"Remember your breathing, Remus. Concentrate on my voice. I'm going to give you a mild calming draught, all right?"
"Dreamless Sleep," he told her, "I need Dreamless Sleep."
It worked, for the first part of the evening, then his body metabolised the damn potion and the memories returned.
Around ten in the evening, he woke to Madame Pomfrey's gentle touch. "Those rowdy friends of yours were ready to camp outside the wing until I called Filch." Poor bastards. "Here's some stew. You missed supper."
Remus' stomach lurched, "Sorry, don't think I'll keep it down."
"Just the broth then," she insisted, setting it down before taking his vitals.
She shook her head, "You had such a good month last time."
"May I..." Remus licked his lips, guilt-ridden asking for help, "May I speak to Professor Windsor?" He had to ask the professor about the disturbing wolf dreams.
"I really think you need as much sleep as possible. But if Amel could settle you a bit..." she left, returning later. However, it wasn't Professor Windsor with her, "So sorry, dear, Professor Dumbledore said Amel left for the Ministry right after classes. He's offered his company, though."
Remus was mortified. Professor Dumbledore closed the partition and conjured a well cushioned chair.
"I'm really sorry for disturbing you so late, sir," Remus babbled, heart pounding as hard as his head.
"Not a worry at all, Mr. Lupin," Professor Dumbledore spoke pleasantly. "Is there something you wished to speak to Amel about which I could help with?"
This was Albus Dumbledore asking. A man busy running a school, serving the Ministry of Magic, keeping wards safe, and probably a billion other things. Remus' issues seemed trivial in light of all that. He wouldn't burden the man who gave him a chance to attend school, or worse, make him regret it.
"Just...trouble sleeping well, sir."
The Headmaster nodded, "Ah, yes. Vitally important, sleeping well. Unfortunately, sometimes chasing the wind seems easier. Memories to sort through. Lessons to process. Burdens to bear. A body that can't get comfortable no matter what position it's in...Anything you'd like assistance sorting through?"
Remus hesitated as Professor Dumbledore's eyes stared through half moon spectacles and straight into his darkened soul, "No, sir."
The older wizard stood, "Well, then, I'll leave you to chase the wind, Mr. Lupin, and wish you well rested for tomorrow evening." Professor Dumbledore lifted his hand, as if to say, 'Good night,' but his wrist began to turn and fingers lowered...
Remus' eyelids felt heavy again.
"Sweet dreams, Mr. Lupin," the headmaster spoke quietly.
He slept through the night and much of the next day, for which he was grateful when it came time to undress and brace himself in the shack. As the Snow Moon rays shone through the frosty air and pooled through cracks in the house, Remus screamed, remembering no more.
***waning gibbous***
James, Sirius, and Peter were not at breakfast when Remus was released from the hospital wing, so he sat with Lily. But Remus deeply wished they were there. Lily opened a Daily Prophet at breakfast containing another disturbing headline: Italian Muggleborn Neighbourhood Attacked Amidst Lupercalia Fest.
"That's Manchester!" Brown cried and snatched the paper Remus was reading over Lily's shoulder.
"What's it say?" Lily asked.
"Werewolf pack, same as last month, but many weren't even transformed this time. They just killed, raped, and kidnapped..." Brown paused and gasped. "Barty Arcuri's parents are listed among those at St. Mungo's—one's in critical condition..."
Remus felt a burning bubble in the back of his throat.
He made it all the way to the second years' toilets before dry heaving. He hadn't actually eaten. Nothing was coming up—until bile did.
They'd attacked...in human form...they'd attacked.
Remus wiped the sweat from his forehead with a now dirtied robe sleeve. The swinging door behind him opened, "Lupin? Ya sick again?"
Dobson.
"Where're my friends?" he asked hoarsely.
"McGonagall's office. Snape said somethin' 'bout today's paper, ya seen the Death Eater attacks, right? Shacklebolt says they was just werewolves but Shafiq reckons they hafta be with Voldemort. Anyway Black went potty. Gave Snape a bleeder. Potter and Pettigrew egged him on. I pulled 'im off. Had to change my shirt."
Remus stared at the porcelain loo in front of him, control slipping.
"Barty's been at the 'Ospital the last coupla days. We'd known it 'appened. Paper's slow. Hey—hey, ya 'right?"
Remus really wished his friends were here, especially Peter, "I can't breathe."
"I can get Pomfrey," Dobson knelt behind him. Remus jumped at the sensation on his shoulder, but it brought him back.
He shook his head, "Just came from there."
"Right. Shower then? C'mon, Lupin." The beater may not have werewolf strength, but he managed just fine lifting Remus to his feet and carrying him to a shower stall. "Can ya stand?"
Remus forced himself to.
"Ya undress and I'll getchyer kit 'n towel. Where are they?"
"Under bed second closest to here and bottom table drawer."
Clothes were allowed to fall to the floor at gravity's whim, unfolded and unkept, before Remus turned the water on scalding. His shower caddy was slid under the curtain as the beater crossed rooms again. However, he didn't leave for class.
"Ye've really only go' one bed! I though' Potter and Black were jestin'! Naff," Dobson returned. "And yer towel's filthy, so I grabbed one o' mine and a flannel." Half of a plush, yellow towel was thrown over the curtain bar.
"Thanks," Remus offered, pathetically, before he was able to zone out and scrub his skin raw with the flannel. Every inch felt contaminated with his lycanthropy. The bruises along his sternum burned. Two slashes along his side reopened, as did the bite on his thigh. But he couldn't get it out. The monster was too far under his skin—was him. How could've he begun listening to his friends who knew nothing. Those beasts attacking...fully cognisant! Fuck!
He slammed the water flow off and wrapped the too-good-for-him towel around his stomach. Ripping back the curtain, he yelped. Dobson sat on the floor between toilet stalls, forearms on his knees. How'd I not notice he hadn't left?! Remus cursed himself and desperately pulled the curtain back, slipping on the wet floor, and crashing onto his coccyx, "FUCK ME! DON'T YOU HAVE CLASS!?" His voice cracked horribly.
"Bloody hell, Lupin," the curtain was pulled back and Dobson was bending down to help before his eyes grew wide and motions ceased. His mouth fell open, "What the dickens?!"
"Please, just go!" Remus begged.
"Why I stayed, in case you fell or somethin'. Wha' 'appened!?" he reached to pick Remus up again.
"Leave!" Remus pushed back the reserve beater's arm. Dobson immediately stepped back, "Right, I'll be in my room for 'nother ten minutes 'fore Charms." He swiftly left.
Naked (but for a foreign towel), in the middle of bed was how Peter found Remus during lunch hour.
"Told you Pomfrey said he'd left!" Sirius bumped into him. "Oi, keep moving, I've been to the hospital wing once today."
"H-He looks peaky," Peter said. James closed the door behind them. "Remus?" Peter asked. He couldn't help but stare, mouth agape, at the visible scars, old and new, along with a massive bruise on his chest. He'd heard from James and Sirius, but hadn't been prepared for the real thing. They were mesmerising, yet terrifying. Grotesque, yet alluring. Reminders of that creature they'd witnessed in the dark recesses of ages past, four months ago.
"What'd Snape say?" the question came.
"You heard about that?" Peter flinched. Images of Eddard Dobson hefting Sirius off a bloody-nosed Snivellus flashed through his mind. He and James had been no help—with James encouraging while Peter held the smaller boy back with everything he had, quite convinced that if they'd fought together, Snape would have been murdered.
"What'd he say?"
"Remus..." James began cautiously.
"The same prejudiced bile the Death Eaters do! Said all werewolves needed to be Avada'ed or locked in a containment centre like dogs!" Sirius yelled.
"You're idiots. No, you're fucking idiots," Remus corrected himself, "He wasn't incorrect."
"HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY SAY..."
Peter cut Sirius off before he wound up in the touchy endless cycle of acknowledging dangers of Remus' lycanthropy, "He-He said it quite impolitely. With rude gestures."
"So, you saw the story?" James asked.
"How's Arcuri?" Remus asked.
"We got to have a chat with McGonagall this morning," James said. "She's picking him up from St. Mungo's this evening. His parents are going to be okay. They weren't participating in the Lupercalia festival when the worst of the attack happened." Peter wouldn't have called what they had with their head of house a 'chat,' so much as a lecture at maximum volume on how to conduct oneself when confronted with bigoted, horomone-charged, conflict. Apparently, she'd even talked to Sirius about it before, and docked thirty house points along with revoking Sirius' permission to participate in Duelling Club the rest of the year.
"You don't understand!"
"Mr. Black."
"He's saying people like Remus are—"
"You could have taken the more honourable road."
However, she'd softened, ever so perceptively, when James charmingly negotiated, knowing Remus was a soft spot (Sirius was convinced he'd buttered her up first). McGonagall changed to revoking Sirius' Duelling Club privileges just for that month.
"Y-You don't think those werewolves were D-Death Eaters, do you, P-Professor?" Peter asked, "And-and-and that they'll attack the school?"
McGonagall had removed her glasses here, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I don't know and I don't fancy garnering a guess, at the moment," she opened her eyes, sweeping over the three of them, "But I can offer the assurance it's impossible for one or even a few people to infiltrate the castle wards from the outside. Everyone on the inside is doing their best to keep them up. A breach of dark howlers is one thing, actual beings is another."
Peter wondered about Sirius' family though. And Snape. They'd got on the train. Was that as protected as Hogwarts?
"You know these people and Mr. Lupin are different. They suffer from the same curse, but they have made different decisions about how to conduct themselves in spite of or because of it," She tapped her forefinger firmly on her desk.
"Yes, Professor," they echoed. Peter could see the difference between Remus and the attackers. However, he wasn't sure Sirius was doing a good job of separating Remus' well earned rights from all werewolves.
Shaking himself from their dressing down, Peter parroted McGonagall, "You aren't your disease, Remus. Voldemort is a wizard, but so is Dumbledore, and he's good," he confidently comforted. "A Slytherin unlocked the door of the broom cupboard Snape locked me in last month, b-b-but my Dad is a Hufflepuff who manipulated my family."
"The fuck?" Remus lifted his head and looked at Peter, "You said he Obliviated your Mum for finding out about magic." Oh, boy, he hadn't meant to get into this. But the emotions in the air were at least right. So Peter reclined himself next to Remus on his end of Mega-bed (patent pending), and shared what he'd learned over Christmas hols.
"I think," James proposed later that night, "We could all use something savoury from the kitchens and music. Let's go to the Room of Requirement."
"I think," Peter concurred with half of the statement, "I have something better." Moving towards his trunk, Peter gingerly pulled out the letters he'd read to his friends earlier, and grabbed what lay underneath. James' eyes widened when Peter brandished the packet of fags.
Sirius was already grabbing the cloak from its hiding place.
Remus didn't smile, but affirmed, "Let's go."
Zeppelin records clutched to his chest, Sirius was the one to walk in front of the corridor wall. A door appeared; everyone filed in quickly. Curfew was in less than fifteen minutes. The room was about the size of their bedroom. Bronze sconces along with a small fireplace held flames which cast cosy mood lighting over the room. An older gramophone stood in one corner, and four, red, plush beanbags encircled a small coffee table.
"Shall we get on with the show then?" James asked, trembling next to Peter. Was it excitement or uncertainty? Probably the former...perhaps both.
"How'd you get 'em?" Sirius asked when Peter pulled them back out. The local Keeper of Albums walked over to the record player and put one on as Peter had taught him.
"P-pinched them from Jane at the end of hols."
Remus took the fags from Peter, collapsed in a beanbag, and tamped them down on the table. "Y-You ever done this before?" Peter asked the boy with circles under his eyes.
"No, just seen my father."
Each boy took one. Peter tried holding his like he'd seen Jane and Jess do.
Remus was the first to light up. He put one end between his lips, held his wand to the other, and muttered a muffled, "Incindio." James immediately followed. Then Peter and Sirius in tandem.
James sucked in, closed his mouth, and immediately began coughing. The other three followed shortly. This led to a fit of laughter.
"What're we doing wrong?" Peter asked Remus who shrugged. They each took several more drags as Rock and Roll blared in the background.
"I'm going to play the drums," James choked out between hacks.
"You know, you keep saying that," Remus observed after clearing his throat, "But when are you going to start?"
After the first fag, Sirius and Remus took more coughless drags. By the second, Peter did. James was the last to get the hang of it. On his third, Peter's lungs were pounded by a drag. His head fell back with a groan of giddiness.
They finished the pack to Misty Mountain Hop.
***last quarter***
Lily entered the Great Hall to a packed Duelling Club. Three days ago there was a front page report about three Death Eater attacks near Inverness, Oxfordshire, and even Belfast. Each had a snake entwined skull hanging over the houses of the dead. All had muggleborns or "sympathisers" who graduated from Hogwarts listed among the dead, as well as muggles. One was a squib, which Lily learned was the opposite of what she was: Born non-magic bearing into a magical family. With news of this attack, plus the horrors enacted by werewolves on a predominantly immigrant and muggleborn corner of Manchester, the lull of Club participants due to exams and tossed aside New Year's resolutions dissipated.
Today, top NEWT students were offered to duel with the staff as a demonstration of sussing out weaknesses, much like they had learned in class.
Lily tried paying attention, but the upperclassmen next to her were talking about how she and her date overstayed their time in Hogsmeade last weekend ("That's against Dumbledore's rules!" Kathryn admonished, making Lily wince.) and heard ghastly cries coming from the place being dubbed "The Shrieking Shack."
"Prolly someone who died bloody, like the Baron," a Slytherin ventured.
Narcissa Black and Michael McKinnon were paired with Professor Kettleburn. The Bannatyne twins were paired with Professor McGonagall ("Yes! You get to see McGonagall!" Potter yelled far too loudly at Remus). A seventh year Hufflepuff and sixth year Slytherin were pitted against Professor Xing. While Frank and Alice (who weren't officially going steady again, but Frank seemed to be coming around) were paired with Professor Windsor.
Students were asked to spread out amongst the four duels. Lily followed Professor Windsor to watch Alice while the chatty cats next to her pursued Xing.
Lily stood with her toes to the mark of where the spell shield would be.
Professor Windsor spoke to Frank and Alice, "This is best two out of three. You've had the advantage of observing me fight all year, as well as seen me utilize spells and strategy in class. Let's make it count." The triple duel began.
Two against one, Professor Windsor blocked and blasted faster than Lily had ever seen him move before. She noticed many of his spells were both simultaneously defensive and offensive.
But Frank and Alice, the pair fit together like smoke and fire, the moon and stars, dandelions and daydreams,...toast and jam. Instinctually, turns were taken casting and defending, Alice's movements firm and fast, while Frank fought with head held high and arm extended. Alice's defensive spells were simultaneously offensive, much like the professor's.
With a well placed non-verbal spell of opaque white light, Alice was knocked backwards. Frank lost his concentration looking over his shoulder and was stunned ("That's what love can do," Severus sneered). The lioness lasted about another minute and a half before a stunner caught her ribcage quickly after she was thrown to the ground.
Professor Windsor revived and helped up the two Gryffindors, "Good effort, very good effort. That lasted longer than most of my spars with Professor Xing, albeit, we aren't necessarily looking to draw things out, are we? There was one point where I was incapacitated long enough for you to run away as well, should this have been a true combatant situation." Lily smirked. Alice would never retreat.
Frank was panting and Professor Windsor sweating as they prepared for the second round. Lily watched them continue on. Frank's inability to focus on more than one task was a mental weakness. His arm stayed too far away from his centre at times to be protective: Stylistic flaw. Alice's inability to hold her stance while on the ground was a stylistic weakness, as most of her physical power was driven from those sure movements. Most people didn't know how to use wandless magic and surprise had helped her defeat Black, but not Professor Windsor.
She watched her professor, realising his and Alice's duelling styles were more alike than the few ways she'd already observed. While Alice's manoeuvres remained more feminine, for lack of a better word, they were so shockingly similar to Professor Windsor's, she wondered if the Prefect was receiving extra lessons without telling her and Ginny.
Professor Windsor's weakness, from a stylistic perspective, could be similar...and if it was, he'd have known that about Alice as well...
Alice caught on quick, shooting lower spells to get him close to the floor. A tripping jinx from Frank knocked him in the air, and while briefly suspended, Alice sent another blow. Frank finished him with a disarmament spell.
"Excellent!" Professor Windsor praised the pair as Frank returned the wand. "Next round is for all the gobstones!"
Lily started as Remus silently appeared next to her.
"Goodness, Remus!"
He gave her an apology with a grimace. Peter and Potter joined him.
"No worries, how's it with Professor McGonagall? And what, no Black today?"
"Poor bastards didn't stand a chance. Woman fights like a cat!" he shook his head. "And Sirius has been banned from all forms of fighting this month."
"Right on," Lily was pleased to hear it. Sev told her all about how Black had attacked him early one morning last week before she'd arrived at breakfasst.
"I see Frank and Alice are still holding their own," Remus observed.
"Well, so long as Frank can keep his mind off Alice, on task. Alice has figured out some of Windsor's more stylistic weaknesses. Albeit, he'll probably work harder to manage them this round."
"Get him on the ground," Remus nodded his head.
Potter slapped his forehead, "Of course!"
"Nobody fights well from the ground," Peter said to them.
"But if your driving force is only behind your ability to defend and attack at the same time, getting grounded is extra fallible. I caught the tail end of the first duel. If Smith had known Viper Position..." Potter rambled incessantly through most of the fight. In the end, Professor Windsor got through an opening and stunned Frank. Nearly three minutes later, he disarmed Alice, who proceeded to cast a wandless stunner, knocking the wind out of the teacher, before using Frank's wand to stun him properly.
"YEAH ALICE!" Lily clapped uproariously with the crowd.
Later that afternoon, Remus walked into Professor Windsor's office after they'd finished righting the Great Hall. James had taken to sticking around when possible to help, prattling on with the professor. The older man asked Remus if he could have a chat after James and Peter left.
Professor Windsor tapped the kettle with his wand and offered Remus a seat in the chair not filled with scrolls. Remus reached into his bag and pulled out the house elf cleaned grey robes Professor Windsor lent him weeks ago.
"Sir, I've got these to return; apologies it's taken so long."
"Keep them, I'm sure they'll be of use again."
Remus didn't want the charity, "But not any time soon. Then they'll have to be tailored up properly..."
Professor Windsor didn't budge, "I insist. Besides, grey isn't really a colour I enjoy wearing, but the Ministry only approves blacks, blues, whites, and greys."
He clenched the soft cotton between his hands, overcome with gratitude. He'd never owned anything so nice, "Thank you sir. I'll take care of them."
"I'm certain you will," the man began preparing their teas. After a cup was poured for Remus, Professor Windsor sat down, smiling, "Suburb use of the Full-Body Bind Curse today."
"I expect Knott didn't think so fondly of it."
"Yes, well, I'm feeling the effects of crashing to the floor myself," he rubbed his back. "Now then. I've been meaning to converse for a while, but Ministry work-load's seemed to double since Greyback's first attack."
Remus dug his nails into his palms to keep himself from shifting uncomfortably, "Were the last attacks Greyback as well? The paper didn't say..."
"I suspect so. Witnesses observed known followers, or pack members, of his. The Lupercalia attacks are more pressing to address because children of muggleborns and mixed families were targeted."
"They're Death Eaters?"
"I'm not so sure. Not all werewolves have magic and it doesn't seem like Voldemort's the sort of dictator to allow that in his ranks. But attacking before a full moon, untransformed, that's also abnormal behaviour. You remember what I mentioned about Death Eater's potential use of lycanthropes."
Remus did remember. Vividly. "Not sure how they could do it, considering how tired I feel around that time," Remus picked up his tea and drank a deep gulp.
"So sorry I couldn't come check in on you before the last full moon. Professor Dumbledore says you asked for me."
"Uh, yeah," Remus said, embarrassed.
"Anything you'd like to talk about now?"
Remus didn't know where to begin. He didn't want to burden the clearly over-worked wizard any more than Dumbledore. But Professor Windsor had talked to him about werewolf shite before. Remus wondered what he and James talked about, if he ever shared anything this personal or only wanted to talk about the Djinni Wars and Defence, "I get these dreams...sometimes. I-I see it. The last night I was human. My mother...sometimes it's different, clearly a dream. Other times...it's like I'm there, seeing—smelling—feeling—everything from that night. Or my stay in St. Mungo's, the first time, and other...stuff...reliving memories..."
Remus looked firmly at the cup in his hands, ignoring the pitiful gaze fixed on him.
"It's not always around the full; they used to be all the time, and it's been better lately," he fiddled with the lip of his cup, "This month though...this month it happened several times. And the last two nights before the full were awful. I-I had other dreams too..." Remus trailed off, not ready to talk about that yet.
"Thank you for trusting me enough to share, Remus," Professor Windsor paused, "Does Lyall know you have these dreams?"
He wouldn't care, "I don't think so."
"Do your friends? Anybody else?"
"James, Sirius, Peter...we all share a bed so it became too difficult to—" he was cut off by Professor Windsor choking on his tea, "You, what?" he laughed. "Merlin, you four really are attached at the hips. Anyway, that's good you can confide in them. I suggest you keep that connection open. And these memories are a normal response to an abnormal event, not a weakness. Please understand that. Many who've fought in wars and witnessed tragedy have the same."
"Even you?" Remus dared ask.
"Even me. Though it's been many years since my last one."
Remus took comfort in that. He wasn't alone, and they may go away one day.
"What were your other dreams about?"
He did look up at the Defence teacher, "Lupercalia."
Professor Windsor raised an eyebrow.
Remus continued, "Of ages past and the last," he took a deep, shaky breath, "I'm positive—and I don't know how, it's a gut feeling, they're memories. Only, it's not me, it's a wolf." And I think I attacked and hurt people, Remus couldn't add.
It was a long moment of Professor Windsor sipping his tea before he spoke, "Wizards can trace themselves back to one common ancestor. We're all products of that shared history, but closer through some lines than others. Lycanthropy passes from human to human. I haven't done much research on the ancestors of those infected with lycanthropy, but once bitten, I would say a werewolf has a bit of that shared past of the curse which has passed from each person. It's not entirely out of the realm of possibility you were able to see memories down the line of those who've been bitten before you...especially so close to the full moon, when the pull of your...more wolfish side...is stronger."
"You really think that's it?"
"Well, last I heard, transformed werewolves couldn't be put under an Imperius Curse and I highly doubt you've been taking field trips through time to the Mediterranean in your slumber," he smiled wryly before it tapered off. "Heard you had a difficult transformation this month. Mr. Dobson burst into a meeting I was having in Minerva's office, quite a state, thinking someone had thrashed you terribly."
Remus sighed in frustration that the sod hadn't left well enough alone, but thankful he went to McGonagall and not a Prefect.
The werewolf hesitated, unsure if the transformation was worse from the anxiety inducing events surrounding the moon or simply that there wasn't another lunar eclipse, "Not as pleasant as the last, that's for sure."
Windsor breathed out a small laugh at the thought of any transformation being considered "pleasant."
"I feel I should give you prior warning: In a couple weeks, we will be discussing lycanthropy in Defence, and there will have to be a homework assignment on the chapter."
Remus nodded, "Thanks for the notice, sir."
It had to happen eventually.
"However, I do think the main focus of the class will be on a little game I'm preparing, which should help keep any and all suspicion away from potential people with lycanthropy gallivanting about the school," he winked, "I've appreciated our time together this afternoon. You're a remarkable young wizard, in spite of all you've been through."
Remus flushed from the undeserved praise, "I appreciate you listening. No one's really done that before." No adult had, anyway.
"I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend."
"You too, sir."