Saturday 19 March, 1994:
Remus awoke in the early afternoon, roused by a knocking on his office door.
Lena.
She was supposed to have come back to Hogwarts last night. Back, and alive.
The aches and pains left over from his transformation disappeared as Remus threw off his bedcovers and dressed in a record amount of time. He yanked open his bedroom door and literally ran across his office to unlock and open the door.
"Len–"He stopped abruptly. It wasn't Lena who'd been knocking on his door; it was Maggie Skelton.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," she said, "but I really think you should come see Lena."
Panic shot through Remus. "What's wrong?" he asked urgently.
"Oh, it's nothing to do with her illness," Maggie quickly reassured him. "Well, not really. No, physically, she's fine. She just..." She hesitated. "It's not my place to tell you."
"Maggie–"
"She got some pretty heavy news last night," said Maggie carefully. "And it's, um... look, just follow me. She's down by the lake."
Remus quickly grabbed his robes, then followed Maggie down to the lakeshore that was furthest from the castle, anxiety almost bursting out of him.
It was a particularly cloudy day, the sky coloured in different shades of grey. It was cold for spring, but this didn't appear to be bothering Lena. Remus' breath hitched when he saw her. She was standing in the shallows of the lake, the water – which surely must have been freezing – halfway up her shins. Her black leggings were rolled up to just below her knees, and the sleeves of her lightweight grey jumper were pushed up to her elbows – meaning that even from a distance, Remus could see that the black veins were no longer there. She bent down and picked up a stone from the water, drew her arm back and threw it, attempting to skip it. It bounced once, before sinking below the surface.
"She's been doing that for over an hour now," Maggie told him. They drew level with Rolf, who was sitting on a large rock, watching Lena.
He glanced at Remus, nodding at him. "Professor," he said politely.
Maggie tapped her friend on the shoulder. "Come on," she murmured to him. "Let them talk alone."
Rolf looked reluctant to leave, but he got up and followed Maggie, and they headed off back in the direction of the castle. Once they were some distance way, Remus called out to Lena, who was standing about thirty metres away. "Lena?"
"Hello, Remus," she replied, without turning around. She picked up another stone, but this time, instead of throwing it normally, she tossed it into the air. It levitated for a few seconds, then, prompted by a gesture Lena made, arced through the air, eventually dropping back to the water's surface. It skipped across the water at least ten times, aided by small, pushing motions from Lena, before finally disappearing from sight.
Despite how worried he was, Remus smiled as he watched Lena using magic. It was a relief that she'd gotten back such an integral part of her. The smile slowly slipped off his face. What news could Lena have received that would outweigh her delight at being able to use magic again?
He was about to ask her what had happened, when Lena, still not looking at him, suddenly spoke.
"Of all the things I've told you, what do you think is the worst thing I've ever done?"
Remus' brow creased. "Why do you ask?"
"Because whatever it is," said Lena, magically skipping another stone, "I reckon I've now got something else to top it."
When it became apparent that Lena wasn't going to come back to the shore to talk to him, Remus sat down on the rock which Rolf had been using. "What's happened, Lena?" he asked.
"Irina's dead," said Lena shortly.
"Your grandmother?" He knew, from what Lena had told him, that it had been a difficult relationship, but he supposed that didn't mean she would be unaffected by it. "I'm so sorry. When did it–"
"Almost seven years ago."
Remus stared at Lena, who instead of skipping the stone she had just picked up, was bouncing it in her hand. "But you told me–"
"I killed her."
For a few seconds, white noise filled Remus' head. He felt as though his brain had stopped working. Then Lena threw the stone across the lake with all her might. It made a loud splash as it hit the water, and Remus regained his senses.
"When you say 'killed' her..." he began to say.
"I murdered her," said Lena, finally turning around to face him. "With the Orb. Only I didn't find that out until last night."
Remus studied her face. He'd expected it to be distressed, angry, frustrated. Instead, she just seemed... tired. Resigned. Defeated.
"I don't understand," he said. "How could you have not known–"
"Because Valeriya tampered with my memory of the day I attacked her," explained Lena quietly. "She cut it off at a point where Irina was still alive, then added in a couple of sentences so I wouldn't question her account of what happened when I woke up. I only realised something was wrong last night when Maggie said something, and I got a flash of a memory I'd never had before. So I went to see Valeriya, and I discovered the truth." She smiled bitterly. "She said she hid it from me to spare me from my own guilt."
"But if you had the Orb, then it wasn't really murder, right?" said Remus desperately. "You didn't mean to do it."
"That's not how the Orb works, Remus," Lena told him wearily. "It doesn't manipulate you into doing anything you don't want to do. It amplifies whatever your feeling. It strips you back to the rawest version of yourself. I killed Irina because I was angry at her. In that moment, I really wanted her dead."
"But you wouldn't have actually done it if you hadn't had the Orb," Remus tried to reason. He wasn't really sure who he was trying to convince: Lena, or himself.
"Probably not," conceded Lena. "But taking the Orb in the first place was my choice. I knew it was one of the most dangerous magical objects to have ever existed, but I still wanted it. So I took it, and I've been paying the price for it ever since." She sighed, and kicked the water. "And you know what the worst thing is?" she continued bitterly. "I can't even do the decent thing and tell the Ministry that I killed her, because then they would know that Valeriya lied on the death certificate when she said it was an accident. Then she'd get in trouble for covering it up, and the authorities would finally have a valid reason to investigate her and charge her with the other million illegal things she's done."
Remus was torn between being appalled and wanting to comfort her. "You were eleven," he said helplessly.
Lena snorted. "Yeah. Makes Voldemort look like a bit of an amateur – he was sixteen before he first did anyone in."
"Lena!" exclaimed Remus angrily, standing. "Don't be so–"
"What, callous?" She arched an eyebrow. "Flippant? That was what you called me last week when I started talking about epitaphs, right?"
Remus walked into the water, barely noticing the feeling of his feet becoming soaked through his shoes. "Lena–"
"What would you have me be, Remus?" she asked, spreading her arms out. "Angry? Inconsolable? Crippled by the guilt and regret weighing me down?"
"Why not?" retorted Remus, stopping a few metres away from her. "I think they'd all be pretty normal responses to finding out you'd killed your own grandmother!"
"I am not normal!" cried Lena. She screwed her eyes shut and groaned. "Ugh, you don't have a fucking clue."
"Excuse me?" growled Remus. "I don't have a clue?"
Lena opened her eyes and shook her head, a sardonic laugh escaping her. "You know why I find it so easy being around you, Remus? It's the self-loathing that just radiates off you."
Remus stared at her, stunned. "What?" he asked hoarsely.
"Oh, don't get me wrong," said Lena. "Your intelligence, your humour, your charm – I find them all immensely appealing. But it's that innate disgust with yourself that really gets me. You can't separate the monster within you from everything else surrounding it. And I just found it so comforting that somebody else felt like that too. But you know what?" Her eyes narrowed. "Now it's really irritating me. Because you've never actually done anything wrong. All your self-directed hatred is about your potential to do something monstrous. Me?" She let out another harsh bark of laughter. "I nearly let Ginny Weasley die last year, just so I could have a version of Voldemort back in my life."
A sick feeling sprung up in Remus' stomach.
Lena took a step towards him. "I saw Harry this morning," she continued softly. "He almost hugged me, he was so glad that I was all right. And when I told him I missed him too, I meant it." A muscle in her face twitched and her voice shook as she went on, "But I genuinely don't know what I'd do if Voldemort appeared in front of me right now. I don't know if I would be more angry with him for all the terrible things he's done, or for being alive all these years and not coming to find me."
Remus clenched his fists. How could she proclaim to care so much about Harry, yet still love his parents' murderer? "That's–"
"Fucked up?" Lena smiled wryly. "Yeah. I know, remember? And I feel that fucked up every day." She sighed. "I am so sick," she said quietly, "of being mad at myself. I am sick of raging. I am sick of breaking down. I literally have nothing left to give. I have nothing else to be but tired."
Remus gazed into her eyes, and something tugged at his heart. It wasn't long ago that he'd been wondering if it would be the last time he would see them, and that they would see him. And any urge to argue, to be angry with her, vanished.
He came closer until he was right in front of her. "I missed you," he whispered. Instinctively, he began to raise his hand to touch her cheek, but stopped when an expression of discomfort appeared on Lena's face.
"Last week," she blurted out, "when you visited me at my house, I was going to kiss you."
Remus' heart skipped a beat. He had been wondering how to bring up the subject – how to tell her that he dearly wished Dumbledore could have arrived just one minute later. "Lena," he started to say, looking at her sincerely, "I–"
"I thought I was going to die," interrupted Lena. "And I was just, you know, emotionally overwhelmed, or whatever. It wasn't because – that is, I don't want you to think that I, erm–"
"I understand," Remus quickly cut in, desperately hoping that his disappointment wasn't showing in his face. "It's been an intense few weeks."
"Yeah," replied Lena, looking relieved. However, the relief was wiped off her face as she looked over Remus' shoulder. "Oh, great," she muttered. "Just who I want to see right now."
Remus turned around. Dumbledore was slowly approaching the lake's shore. He looked back at Lena, surprised by the resentful way she was looking at the old wizard.
"Better get this over and done with," she said, which only further added to Remus' confusion. She began to make her way of the lake.
Remus followed her. "What's going on? Has something happened–"
"Don't worry about it," Lena told him curtly. "This is between him and me."
"But Lena–"
"It's good to see you, Remus," Lena cut him off as they reached the shore. She reached up into the upper-arm of her left sleeve, and pulled out her wand. She pointed it at her feet and muttered an incantation for a Drying Spell. Rolling down her leggings, she looked up and smiled at Remus. "It really is. But now I need to speak to Dumbledore privately." Sitting down on the large rock, she Summoned her socks and boots from where they lay a little further down the shore, and started to put them on.
With Dumbledore now in earshot, Remus held back from pressing her for any more answers.
"Remus," greeted Dumbledore politely. He glanced down at his Defence professor's drenched shoes and lower trouser-legs, before looking back up at him with a raised eyebrow.
Flushing, Remus quickly pulled out his wand and cast a Drying Spell.
"There is a conversation," Dumbledore was saying to Lena, "that I believe we must have."
"I should say so," replied Lena, her lips tightly drawn.
Dumbledore gestured to their surroundings. "Here?"
"I don't see why not," said Lena. "Professor Lupin was just leaving."
The headmaster draw out his wand and Engorged one of the stones on the shore to the same size as the rock Lena was sitting on."I imagine you'll be looking forward to having Lena back in your class, Remus," he commented, sitting down.
Remus looked at him, confused. "Sorry?"
"Lena will be returning to regular Defence Against the Dark Arts class for the remainder of the year," elaborated Dumbledore. "I am afraid I no longer have the time to take her for private lessons in three subjects."
"Oh."
Lena glanced at Remus, her expression unreadable. "Is that fine with you, sir?" she asked evenly.
Her usage of 'sir' bothered Remus, but he plastered a smile on his face. "Yes, of course."
Lena turned her gaze back to Dumbledore, who inclined his head at Remus. "Enjoy the rest of your Saturday, Remus," he said. His tone was courteous, but Remus recognised it as a dismissal.
"You too, Headmaster," he responded. He looked at Lena, and gave her a quick nod. "Lena."
She smiled at him once more, but there was an obvious underlying tension in her face.
As Remus walked off, heading back to the castle, his elation at seeing Lena again was beginning to fade, and the aches and pains from the transformation were starting to return. But he barely noticed them. All he could really feel was a niggling disappointment in his heart.
In the end, Lena forgave Dumbledore for keeping Irina's death from her. She had meant it when she told Remus that she had nothing left to give. She had used up all her anger on Valeriya the night before. Perhaps in a week or so she would return to her full capacity for rage – towards both herself and others – but that day, she was simply drained of such fury.
She had also meant it when she told Remus that she no longer saw his deep-rooted self-loathing as a commonality between them, but a source of irritation. Because it just wasn't the same thing. Yes, when they had spoken on Christmas day, Remus had claimed that it was a constant struggle to separate himself from the wolf, but his internal war was different to Lena's, for principally one, significant reason – he was successful. He had never attacked anyone, not even as a fully transformed werewolf. And when he was a man, he was a good man.
Lena's less-than-savoury side had just as many victories as losses, and the scale of those victories usually made them outweigh the defeats. And for Remus to pretend he understood that – well, after discovering the truth of what she'd done to Irina, it was just too much for Lena.
At least she had cleared up any potential misunderstanding with the almost-kiss. As fun as it had been to tease Remus the last time he thought she was in love with him, she wanted to avoid a repeat incident. Especially as Dumbledore had told her before he left the IHO Headquarters the previous week that he was sending her back to Remus' Defence classes, as he only had time now to privately teach her Charms and Transfiguration.
It was an odd feeling to return to all her classes, no longer having to worry about hiding her inability to use magic. And it was good that was no longer a concern, because Lena had become the centre of attention in the classes – partly because of her mysterious three week absence, but also because of the rumours that had spread and warped about her involvement in Selwyn's expulsion and the other four's voluntary departures. According to some, Lena had used the Cruciatus Curse on them. Others believed she had threatened to murder all their family members if they didn't confess. Lena was surprised at how close some had actually got to the truth – that she had somehow nearly drowned them to death in the Great Lake.
In any case, what really astounded Lena was that unlike her attack on Travers in her First Year, the general response to whatever she'd done to Maggie's attackers was that everyone seemed to like her more. Instead of staring at her with fear, the other students were simply intrigued, and even the teachers were coming across as less hostile – with the exception of Snape, of course, who was giving her the impression that he thought she should have been expelled too.
Returning to her Defence Against the Dark Arts class was a particularly strange feeling. Her Slytherin classmates respected her even more than before, and the Ravenclaws had started asking her for help too – which created a dynamic of their class sort of having two teachers. Lena wasn't sure how Remus felt about that. He didn't seem to have a problem with students looking to Lena for assistance, but since speaking to him at the lake, she couldn't help notice that he had been slightly more distant with her.
"It's probably just weird for him to have you as a student again," reasoned Rolf, during their Herbology lesson on Lena's first Thursday back. They had partnered up for the period's task of re-potting Snapping Tarragon, a magical herb most commonly used in ointments to treat venomous creature bites."I mean, he wouldn't want to be accused of favouritism."
"But everybody knows I'm the best at Defence Against the Dark Arts," Lena pointed out, filling the new pot with soil. "The teachers would find it more peculiar if I wasn't getting perfect marks."
"Yeah, but it's more than just marks," said Rolf. "Teachers have a duty-of-care for their students, right? Lupin could lose his job if people thought he was being too, uh, friendly with you."
Lena paused what she was doing. "What do mean by 'friendly'?" she asked suspiciously.
Rolf glanced up at her from the old pot, where he was trying to remove the Snapping Tarragon. "Oh, come on, Lena. The two of you–"
He was interrupted by the sound of an angry Maggie.
"Will you stop yanking it like that, you're going to rip the whole plant in two!"
Lena and Rolf both turned to look at her. She was a couple of metres away from them, and was glaring at Oliver Wood, with whom she'd been partnered and was the recipient of her ire.
"How else are you supposed to get it out?" replied Wood grumpily, his Scottish brogue becoming even more pronounced in his annoyance.
"Carefully!" snapped Maggie. "Look, why don't you finish getting the pot ready, and I'll do that." She snatched the Snapping Tarragon away from Wood, who sulkily picked up his trowel and started unceremoniously shovelling dirt into the new pot.
"How long do you reckon until she pushes him into the Venomous Tentacula?" Lena muttered to Rolf, grinning as Maggie proceeded to scold Wood for not taking enough care with how much soil he was putting in.
Rolf snorted. "To be fair to Wood, she is a nightmare to be partnered with in Herbology. She hit me over the head with a piece of Wiggenbush bark last week for spilling Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent on a Snargaluff sapling."
Lena raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying your decision to partner with me today was not born out of a desire to spend time with me, but to avoid Maggie?"
"Well," said Rolf under his breath as Maggie turned around and approached them, "you're not wrong."
"Can I borrow your Sedation Spray?" Maggie asked them. "McNitwit broke the nozzle on our bottle."
Lena handed her the spray bottle, smirking. "The new partnership has started off swimmingly, then?"
"Oh, fuck off." Maggie looked around to check where Professor Sprout was. Seeing that she was engaged in a discussion with a student from Ravenclaw, she delayed her return to Wood. "So, what are you guys talking about?"
"Rolf seems to be under the impression that Lupin's distancing himself from me because he doesn't want to be accused of being over-friendly towards me," Lena told her. She expected Maggie to agree with her that this was a ridiculous notion.
Instead, Maggie shrugged and said, "I mean, that would be a smart move for him."
"What?" said Lena, thrown. "Why?"
"Well, as I was going to say before," interjected Rolf, "you don't need to have spent every waking minute with you this year to see that the two of you have, er, a..."
"A what?" asked Lena, when he trailed off.
"He means," Maggie answered bluntly, "that you and Lupin have been eye-fucking each other across the Great Hall for the majority of the year."
"Ex-excuse me?" spluttered Lena. "We have not been eye–"
But Maggie wasn't listening. Her attention had been caught by a long Venomous Tentacula vine that was reaching out to strangle an oblivious Wood.
"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Maggie, practically leaping across the couple of metres separating her from Wood and snatching the vine just before it could wrap itself around Wood's neck.
A startled Wood turned around to see Maggie deftly wrestling his would-be attacker back into its pot on the shelf of the Greenhouse wall.
"Sedation Spray, Lena," she called out, and Lena chucked her the bottle. Maggie caught it and dosed the plant with a heavy quantity. The wriggling vines went still.
"Bugger me," said Wood, staring wide-eyed at Maggie. "That was brilliant."
Maggie awkwardly smoothed her hair back. "It was just the appropriate course of action," she muttered.
Wood shook his head. "But you just handled it like it was nothing, like it was easy!"
Maggie flushed under his impressed gaze. "Yes, well, you should pay more attention to your surroundings," she told him, although she sounded considerably less irritated than she had when she scolded him before.
Instead of arguing, Wood nodded, looking slightly abashed. "So," he said, "what's the proper way of getting this Slapping Tarragon out?"
"Snapping Tarragon," Maggie automatically corrected him, but came over and stood next to him.
Lena and Rolf watched on, stunned, as Oliver Wood hung on to every word Maggie was saying to him about the intricacies of growing Snapping Tarragon, his eyes only ever leaving her face when Maggie specifically indicated to the plant or one of the tools required for its upkeep.
And as she observed the way Maggie's eyes lingered on Wood when he wasn't watching her, and the particular interest she displayed in his well-toned forearms – undoubtedly a consequence of his many years of Quidditch – when he rolled up his sleeves to help her with the re-potting, Lena couldn't resist smirking. 'Now who's eye-fucking?'
Friday 8 April, 1994:
To fall in love with Lena Lestrange, you had to be either a fool or a glutton for punishment.
That was what Remus had told himself, back when he'd thought Lena was in love with him. Now, he was trying to figure out which one he was.
He let out a frustrated groan, dropping his quill and rubbing his temples. He was trying to complete his class plans for the next week, as there were only a couple of days left of the Easter holidays. But he was finding it difficult to concentrate, because his mind kept drifting back to her.
He had felt like he was treading water for the last three weeks, desperately trying to keep his head above the surface, because if he sank, there would be no coming back up. If he fell for Lena, that was it – even if, as she had made clear, she didn't want him.
Remus knew he was not a foolish man. Nor a naive one; Sirius' betrayal had cured him of that. So that left him with...
'It's the self-loathing that just radiates off you.' Those words kept echoing around Remus' head. Lena had sounded so annoyed with him, that he still had the temerity to be disgusted by his condition when she had killed her own grandmother.
He slumped back in his chair, staring up at the office's ceiling. 'She doesn't understand,' he thought, aggravated. 'She doesn't know what it's like to remember thinking that the only thing you want to do is kill.'
A werewolf lived only for violence. At least when Lena took the Orb, she was doing it for knowledge, for power. Hurting people was only a consequence of her actions, not the goal.
A knock on his door drew Remus out of his ruminations. "Come in," he called out, sitting up properly.
It was Snape, bringing Remus his first dose of Wolfsbane for the next full moon.
"Thank you, Severus," said Remus politely as the Potions Master put the goblet down on his desk.
Snape jerked his head in a sharp nod, and spun back around to leave.
Remus stared down at the potion in the goblet. Ever since he'd told Lena that he felt even more ill after a full moon now he was taking it, Lena had made it clear she was suspicious of the Wolfsbane – particularly of what long-term effects it could have on his health.
He pursed his lips. It stopped him from turning into a complete monster every full moon. That was good enough for him. So he picked up the goblet and drained it. Grimacing at the aftertaste, he put the goblet back down. To his surprise, he saw that Snape was still standing in the doorway, watching him closely.
"Was there something I can help you with?" Remus asked him.
Snape hesitated, then remarked indifferently, "I just expected you to be less... morose, after Lestrange returned."
Remus tensed. "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, don't be coy, Lupin," said Snape, his lips curling in a sneer. "It doesn't take great intellect to see you're obsessed with the girl."
Remus stood up quickly. "I don't like what you're implying, Snape," he snapped, hoping the anger in his voice hid his guilt.
"I wasn't implying anything," replied Snape, unfazed. "I was merely stating a fact."
"Is that so?" said Remus, stepping around his desk and advancing on Snape. "Because it sounded awfully like you were accusing me of behaving inappropriately with Lena Lestrange."
Snape's eyes glinted maliciously. "I only spoke of your blatant feelings, not of you acting upon them – though I don't doubt that you wish you had."
Remus' face flushed, partly in anger, partly in embarrassment. "I would never," he hissed, "abuse my position to take advantage of a student."
"Take advantage of her?" Remus was surprised when Snape laughed. "Lupin, are we talking about the same girl? You couldn't coerce Lestrange into breathing if she decided she didn't want to do it, let alone into your bed."
That was the last thing Remus needed right now – the image of Lena lying in his bed, covered by nothing but sheets, lodged in his head.
"You," continued Snape, "are far out of your depth with her. But," he added, giving Remus a disgusted look, "I suppose she works as a nice replacement for Sirius Black."
"She is nothing like him!" said Remus loudly, clenching his fists.
"She is exactly like him," snarled Snape. "More than you know."
For a second, Remus looked at him, confused. Then he remembered. 'Of course. He was a Death Eater.'
"If you are referring to Lena's... history with Lord Voldemort," he said quietly, "I'm more than aware of it."
It was Snape's turn to look surprised. He opened and shut his mouth a couple of times, before finally beginning to say, "Yet still you–"
But Remus cut him off. "I have nothing else to say to you on the subject, Severus," he said calmly. He turned around and went back behind his desk. "Thank you again for the Wolfsbane," he added, sitting down.
Snape narrowed his eyes at him, but turned around. His hand was on the door handle, to shut it behind him, when he paused to look back at Remus, who had picked up his quill again and was pretending to work on his class plans.
"Have you ever seen her lose control?"
Remus looked up at Snape questioningly. "Excuse me?"
Snape was no longer looking at him with contempt or hate. Instead, he regarded Remus with a far more serious, grim expression. "Have you ever witnessed Lestrange truly lose control of her temper?" he asked. "Because I have. And believe me, Lupin – hearing about it is not the same thing as seeing it with your own eyes."
Remus paused. He'd seen a frustrated Lena many times during their Patronus lessons. But as aggravated and occasionally nasty as she had gotten, he doubted that Snape was talking about the same thing.
"The environment in which Lena grew up," he replied carefully, "was not conducive to creating... great emotional stability."
"Lestrange isn't the first child to have a difficult childhood," retorted Snape. "Nor will she be the last. You can pin blame on an upbringing to an extent, but at a certain point you have to accept there is an inborn part of someone that makes them who they are. "
As much as he didn't want to admit it, Remus knew that there was truth in what Snape was saying.
He sighed. "Why do you care so much?" he asked. "If this isn't an intervention of a teacher concerned about the welfare of a student, what does it matter to you what happens between Lena and myself?"
Snape folded his arms. "Lestrange does concern me, Lupin. It concerns me very much what she is capable of. So it matters to me that she is able to yet again wrap another grown wizard around her finger."
Remus was unsure of whom Snape was referring to. Voldemort? Dumbledore?
"I don't expect you to listen to me," continued Snape. "So I will just leave you with this: I would rather spend a full moon locked in a room with your mangy alter-ego than I would with an out-of-control Lestrange."
With that, he slammed the office door behind him.
Remus stared at where Snape had stood, his head beginning to hurt. Why did Snape have to go and say a thing like that?
Because the horrible truth was that the more fucked up Lena proved to be, the more irresistible Remus found her.
Saturday 9 April, 1994:
"Come on, Ron, it'll be fine," Harry tried to reassure his friend.
But Ron shook his head. "She's your friend, Harry. She's barely ever said a word to me, why would she agree to help?"
"Because she's good at helping people with their essays, and Lena likes doing what she's good at," Harry said simply.
Ron still looked unconvinced.
Harry sighed. "You know Hermione's way too busy to properly look over our homework," he said, "and the last thing you want now is to get detention from Snape for handing in an essay that isn't up to scratch. That'll take out time of your research for Buckbeak's appeal."
At last, Ron gave in. "Fine," he said, and followed Harry across the grounds to where Lena was sitting by the Great Lake.
It was the last weekend of the Easter holidays, and Harry's Potions class had an essay due on Monday. Harry, with the assistance of Lena, had already completed his earlier in the week, but Ron's was only half done, and even Harry could tell to call his effort 'mediocre' would be generous.
Lena wasn't sitting alone by the lake. Her two friends, Maggie Skelton and Rolf Scamander, were both lounging near her, taking notes from a textbook. And sitting cross-legged in front of Lena, their wands out and each holding a teaspoon, were four girls that couldn't have been older than First Years.
One of them, whose black hair was in lots of braids, was asking Lena, "So, it's three zigzags?"
"Correct," said Lena, holding up her own teaspoon. "Like so. Forciverto." As she said the incantation, she made a zigzagging motion with her wand, and the teaspoon promptly transformed into a pair of tweezers, which the four girls looked at enviously. It was only then Lena noticed Harry and Ron standing nearby, watching her little lesson. "Hello Harry," she greeted him.
The four First Years swivelled around to look at him curiously.
"Hi Lena," replied Harry, uncomfortable under their gazes. "Do you have a second?"
"Sure, if you can wait a moment," Lena told him. When the girls continued to stare, she snapped her fingers, and they guiltily turned back around to face her. "All right," she said to them, "show me what you can do."
In quick succession, the girls each chanted, "Forciverto", and were rewarded with varying qualities of tweezers.
Lena inspected each one. "Rebecca, your wand movements were far too rigid, the zigzag needs to flow. Nice work, Erin, you just need a little more confidence when you say the incantation. Tiffany, you really need to focus on the enunciation of your vowel sounds." The last pair of tweezers, however, induced a smile. "Perfect, Eve," she told the girl with braids. "Couldn't have done it better myself. All right, you lot," she addressed all of them again, "skedaddle. Class is over for the day."
There was a chorus of 'Thanks, Lena' as the girls stood up, and they vacated the area.
Rolf let out a theatrical sigh. "And so the mother duck sends her brood out into the wide and dangerous world."
Lena didn't even bother looking at him as she sent a rude gesture his way. "So, what can I do for you, Harry?" she asked.
Harry sat in front of her, and motioned for Ron to copy him. "It's actually Ron who needs the help," he explained. "It's this Potions essay we've got due on Monday."
"About the brain-affecting properties of Sneezewort?"
"That's the one," affirmed Harry. "Could you maybe look over what he's done, and–"
"Make some suggestions for improvement?" said Lena, smiling wryly.
"It would be very much appreciated."
Lena extended a hand out to Ron. "Let me have a look at it."
Looking mostly relieved, but a little apprehensive too, Ron pulled his slightly crumpled essay out of his bag and handed it to Lena.
She'd only gotten a few lines in when she glanced back up at Ron, with an expression that was a mixture of bemused and unimpressed.
The tips of Ron's ears went red. "It's a work-in-progress," he muttered.
"I'll say," replied Lena, reading on. "How'd you manage to spell 'psychological' with an 'f'?"
"I'm guessing this may take a while?" said Harry, as Ron's blush spread to his cheeks.
"Well, it's going to take at least a couple of hours," answered Lena. She looked back up at Ron. "Right, grab a new piece of parchment and a quill," she told him, scrunching up his first attempt. "We're going to start from scratch."
There was probably other schoolwork Harry could have been doing, but there was always something so fascinating about watching Lena when she was in what he called her 'teacher mode'. It was remarkable how patient and uncompromising she could be at the same time.
Also, ever since she'd returned to Hogwarts from her convalescing absence, Harry had been searching for excuses to spend time with her. He had a suspicion she'd not been entirely honest with him before she left about just how ill she'd been, and if she relapsed – or however this rare illness worked –he wanted to be sure he had not wasted an opportunity to be with her.
In case this time, she didn't come back.
So Harry lay down on his side, settling in for the remainder of the afternoon. Normally, watching someone try to write an essay would be exceedingly dull. But when the writers of said essay were the bizarre combination of Lena and Ron, Harry had a suspicion that this afternoon would be anything but dull.
Friday 13 May, 1994:
"You can't seriously believe Gryffindor will beat us! I mean, come on: our entire team are flying on Nimbus 2001s."
"Yeah, which are no match for a Firebolt."
Lena listened to Gemma and Kahn's argument with mild interest. Tomorrow's Quidditch Cup match was practically all the school had talked about this week – something Lena would usually find tedious, but the thought of Harry humiliating the young Malfoy in front of the rest of the school was quite appealing.
"But Potter's the only one with a Firebolt," argued Kahn. "The rest of them have what, Cleansweep Sevens, or not much better."
Gemma opened her mouth to respond, but Maggie got in first. "But every member of the Gryffindor team is more skilled in their position than any of our players," she said.
Lena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Maggie was also taking more of an interest in this game than she usually did in the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup, but for quite a different reason from Lena.
And that reason was Oliver Wood.
Ever since she had saved him from the Venomous Tentacula at the end of the previous term, Wood had made an effort to partner up with Maggie in every Herbology lesson – attempts that met absolutely no resistance from Maggie, as she quite clearly now fancied the pants off the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.
Unfortunately for Lena and Rolf, Maggie and Wood usually ended up being the pair nearest to them, which meant they had to endure several hours a week of overhearing cringe-inducing attempts at conversation, and seeing the gazes of longing from one when the other wasn't looking.
Seven weeks of pining, even though it was obvious that the two of them were crazy for each other. Lena found it positively maddening.
'Just say, 'Hey, I really quite fancy you' and then snog their face off,' thought Lena. 'Why make it so complicated?'
Her frustration over Maggie and Wood's inability to communicate their feelings properly quickly disappeared as they turned into the Serpentine Corridor and arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Her stomach knotted. It had been a full moon on Wednesday, so Remus hadn't been there for their class yesterday, which meant she was about to see him for the first time in three days.
Not that three days was a long time to go without seeing Remus now. In fact, since the start of the new term, she had rarely seen him out of class.
It wasn't that he had actually asked her to stop visiting him out of school hours. No, it was the way he behaved when she did. Gone were the days when they could just sit in his office and talk about anything and everything, or do their respective work in a comfortable, companionable silence. Now, he studiously avoided eye-contact with her, gave her short, curt answers when she asked him questions, or simply just made excuses to leave.
It was the revelation of her killing Irina. Lena was sure of it.
Remus wasn't inside the classroom when they entered. Within a few minutes, the entire class had arrived, but as the hour ticked to nine o'clock, their teacher was yet to make an appearance. After another couple of minutes of his absence, Lena started to get worried. Had he overslept? Or had he just gotten caught up in the staffroom? Or–
From within the Defence professor's office, there came a loud noise that sounded like glass shattering. Lena immediately stood, and hurried up the steps to his office.
She knocked on the door. "Professor Lupin," she called out, very aware that the class' attention was on her. "Is everything all right in there?"
There was a brief pause before a voice weakly responded, "I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute."
Lena frowned. He didn't sound fine. Debating whether to just force her way into the office or not, her mind was made up when she heard a thump.
She turned the handle, and was surprised to find it wasn't locked. Opening the door slightly, she peered around it to see Remus on his knees, grasping the edge of his desk in an attempt to pull himself to his feet.
Looking back down at the rest of the class, she called out, "Gemma, can you go fetch Professor McGonagall? Quickly, please."
Gemma nodded and hurried out of the classroom.
"No," rasped Remus, staggering to his feet. "I told you, I'm fine. There's no need to bother Minerva."
Not wanting the rest of the class to see him in his present condition, Lena stepped into the office and closed the door. "You are definitely not fine," she told him sternly. She noticed the glass fragments on the floor of the corner of his office – the remnants of the tank in which he often kept Dark creatures for his practical lessons. Its breaking must have been what caused the smashing sound. "Reparo," said Lena, pointing her wand at the wreckage, and the glass shards melded their selves back into a tank, which she levitated back onto its table. She looked at Remus concernedly, and saw that his hand was bleeding. "You cut yourself," she said, moving closer to him.
"It's just a scratch," muttered Remus, leaning against the desk. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was a sheen of sweat covering him.
"Let me see it," said Lena, reaching out to take his hand.
Remus reluctantly let her hold it.
"Vulnera Sanentur," murmured Lena, slowly tracing her wand over the gash in his palm, and the skin knitted itself back together.
"Thanks," said Remus gruffly. "Now, we better head out, I'm already five minutes late–"
"Absolutely not," said Lena. "You're in no condition to teach today." She firmly gripped his shoulder, attempting to turn him in the direction of his bedroom. "Come on, back to bed."
But Remus shrugged her off. "No," he said, "I already missed classes yesterday, I can't miss them again today." He stepped away from the desk, but only got a couple of feet before his knees began to buckle.
"You're being ridiculous," Lena told him, annoyed. "You wouldn't even be able to get yourself down the stairs, let alone teach a class."
"I can push through it," Remus began to argue, but broke off as his eyes glazed over, and he startled to topple.
Lena managed to bring him down to the floor slowly and safely. She knelt beside him, her hand propping up his back. "This is the Wolfsbane's doing, isn't it," she said softly. "It's making you sick."
Remus' eyes came back into focus, and he looked at Lena sharply. "Maintaining my sanity during a full moon is worth the odd dizzy spell."
"This isn't just feeling a bit off, Remus," argued Lena. "You are ill. And I'm willing to bet it's only going to get worse every time you take Wolfsbane."
"Of course you wouldn't understand." He said it under his breath, but Lena caught it.
She glared at him. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Avoiding her gaze, Remus attempted to get to his feet once more. "Doesn't matter," he muttered.
"Oh, I think it fucking does," said Lena, also standing.
"Just leave it," replied Remus, steadying himself.
"No, tell me what you meant."
"Lena–"
"What wouldn't I understand?"
Remus' eyes finally snapped to her, and an angry growl, almost wolfish, escaped him. "You wouldn't understand," he snarled, "what it's like to actually want to not be a monster."
Lena's insides twisted. She was right – Irina's murder had been the final straw for Remus. It was just too much for him to ignore, on top of everything else he had learned about her.
She opened her mouth, not entirely sure herself what she was going to say. However, she was spared from saying something she might have regretted by the door suddenly being opened by Professor McGonagall.
"Miss Lestrange, what is–" she began, but broke off upon seeing Remus, who had started to sway again. "Remus," she said, hurrying to his side, "what on Earth has happened to you?"
"I am fine!" he said loudly.
McGonagall gave him a disapproving look. "There is no need to take that tone with me," she replied tersely, and Remus flinched.
Lena nearly smirked at the sight of him being scolded by the deputy headmistress, like he was once again her student.
"And you are clearly not fine," continued McGonagall, inspecting him. "On the contrary, you look appalling."
Remus began to protest, "But I feel fi–", only to start to fall over again.
Both Lena and McGonagall's hands shot out to steady him.
"That settles it," said McGonagall firmly. "You are in no fit condition to teach today."
"That's what I've been trying to tell him for the last five minutes," grumbled Lena.
"There's only a month left until NEWTs," argued Remus, "and even less than that until OWLs, and the other year levels' exams. I have to teach."
"You're no help to any of the students if you're this unwell," said McGonagall. Then she pursed her lips. "Unfortunately, we're already short-staffed today as it is, with Aurora away at her uncle's funeral and Charity at a conference in London, so there isn't a staff member available to supervise your classes."
Remus looked aghast. "So what, you'll just cancel all Defence classes? Minerva, the students need these lessons, and they need a teacher!"
McGonagall glanced at Lena, before looking back at Remus. "No, that's not what I'm going to do at all. I only said we didn't have a staff member available."
Lena's eyes widened in surprise. Was McGonagall suggesting...
Remus obviously had interpreted the Transfiguration teacher's comment the same way. "You want Lena to teach all my Defence Against the Dark Arts classes today?"
Lena bristled at the incredulity in Remus' tone. Yes, it hadn't occurred to her that McGonagall would suggest it, but Remus knew she was more than competent.
"I see no reason why not," replied McGonagall. "Her marks in the subject indicate that she is well-versed in all the topics of the curriculum for each year level, and as Head Girl, I think we can trust she is responsible enough to supervise a class."
Lena felt oddly pleased by McGonagall's praise. "What about the rest of my classes today?" she asked her.
"I imagine catching up on the content you miss today shouldn't be too difficult for you," said McGonagall wryly. "And I shall inform your other teachers that you will be otherwise occupied today."
"Thank you," said Lena, struggling not to beam.
Remus, however, was still not onboard. "But Lena isn't qualified to teach–"
"Remus," interrupted McGonagall, turning back to him with flared nostrils, "I insist you return to your bed, and get some rest. You are no use to anyone unwell."
"But–"
Lena glared at him. She'd had enough of his protestations, not to mention she was feeling quite insulted by his apparent lack of faith in her to substitute for him. "I swear in the name of all that is magical," she hissed at him, "if you don't go back to bed this minute, I will drag you in there myself, and tie you to the bedposts."
Remus' eyes went as round as saucers, and beside her, McGonagall made a small strangled noise. Lena looked at the two of them, confused. Remus was staring at her, and Lena got the sense he was imagining something...
Lena's cheeks went pink as she finally understood. "Not like that," she blurted out. "I just meant..." She swallowed. Now she couldn't get the image out of her head.
"All right, I'm going," said Remus hastily, stumbling towards his bedroom. As he reached the door, he gestured to his desk. "All my lessons plans are there, so–"
"Just go back to bed," said McGonagall impatiently. "Miss Lestrange will be fine. I have the utmost confidence in her abilities."
As Remus reluctantly nodded and closed the door behind him, Lena couldn't help feeling that as glad as she was that McGonagall believed in her, it would have been nice if Remus had too.
'He thinks I'm too Dark to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts,' she realised. 'He isn't worried about my amount of knowledge or training, or my ability to control a class. He thinks I'm ethically incapable.'
McGonagall cleared her throat, bringing Lena back to the present. The older woman was pointing at the door that led out to the classroom.
"Well, Miss Lestrange," she said, bestowing upon Lena one of her rare smiles, "your class awaits."
So, I have to admit: this definitely isn't my favourite chapter. Basically, I've had so many ideas for things that could happen between Lena returning to Hogwarts and the night of the Shrieking Shack, but I want to get to that part as soon as I can. However, there are certain things that need to happen to get Lena and Remus where I want them emotionally by that point. As a consequence, I've got these abrupt time jumps that I'm not fond of, and these small scenes which are less about properly developing the story, and more about painting a broad picture of what characters are feeling and doing. Hopefully, the next chapter will be less like that.
Anyway, if you have any other thoughts/feelings on that, do let me know. I'm always interested in criticism from a writing perspective :)
Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Just a quick response to Saberius Prime: It does seem rather cruel, doesn't it? But there had to be some sort of price for the miraculous treatment. That's not to say there's absolutely no possibility of Lena regaining her fertility at some point. But it wouldn't be anytime soon - which is just as well, really, because I don't think Lena's emotionally stable enough yet for pregnancy to actually be a positive experience for her or her potential child. But maybe one day...
As always, thank you for reading!