I received a comment earlier this week that I'd like to take a few minutes to address, if you'll bear with me. The commenter expressed their unhappiness with the nature of this story. I feel that I have been pretty clear about the direction this story is headed in, but just to reiterate: this story will feature a romance between a teacher and a student. It's not going to happen while she is still a student. It's not going to happen while she is underage. But it is going to happen. If that squicks you out and ruins this for you, I totally understand, and if you would like I would be more than happy to point you in the direction of some other Remus Lupin romance fics that I have enjoyed/am enjoying that do not have that element to them. But this story might not be for you.
I also want to emphasize that this is a work of fiction. Lots of things happen in fiction that we wouldn't want to happen in real life, and sometimes people are entertained by reading about things that they would be horrified to experience and/or witness in real life. For example, I'm a huge Sci-Fi fan, but if extraterrestrials invaded earth tomorrow, I am about six thousand percent sure that I would vomit myself to death while cowering beneath my bed. Sometimes in fiction someone's behavior comes across as totally swoony and dreamy - like glittering vampires who are, like, a hundred years older than the teenage girl they're so in love with that they climb in her window to watch her sleep - but in real life their behavior towards, and treatment of, their girlfriend would be seen for what it is: stalker-ish, controlling, non-consensual, and toxically overprotective. I would never date Edward Cullen in real life, and I can get enjoyment and entertainment out of reading a romance novel (or four) with him as the romantic lead. That's the magic of fiction. If it entertains you, great. If you find some deeper meaning in it, that's marvelous. But we're not meant to model our lives, choices, and relationships after what we watch and read. I adore Remus. But in my opinion that man could seriouslybenefit from therapy and some of the things that I hope to explore in this series are the traits and behaviors that would make him a terrible partner and give him a chance to work on himself in a way that Rowling never did. I sincerely hope that you are liking Mairead. I put a lot of thought and effort into making her un-Mary Sue-ish and I truly hope that readers will come to love her as much as Remus does. And I also really, really don't want anyone to model themselves after her, and I don't want anyone to model their real-life relationships after her fictional relationships.
To conclude: this fictional story is going to contain a romantic relationship between a teacher and his former student. It's not changing. But through the magic of the "back" button, you don't have to be here when it happens, and I won't hold it against you. But please don't come here just to try to shame me and the people who are enjoying this story. Thanks for reading.
...
Chapter Ten: YoursNews traveled like wildfire that Mairead O'Keefe, Partial Squib and possible Death Eater, had wiped the floor with a Gryffindor.
Over the next couple of weeks she frequently encountered Gryffindors who shot glowering looks at her, Slytherins she had never met before who offered her high-fives in corridors, Ravenclaws who gave her appraising looks and whispered to one another as she passed, and fellow Hufflepuffs who either knew her well enough to ask her if she was okay or who didn't know her very well and jokingly pretended to be afraid of her.
Mairead had sternly told herself that she would take it all in stride and not allow herself to fall apart again over another blow to her reputation. To her shock, it worked. She had thought that this notoriety would torment her, but she found that she was so fed up at being the subject of rumors and gossip that she simply couldn't be bothered to pay it any mind anymore. She disregarded both the positive and negative feedback from her peers, forced herself to hold her head high, and behaved as she would have were this not going on. After a few days the feeling of deep discomfort wore off and she found it felt quite natural to be herself.
Professor McGonagall had not, as Mairead had feared, tried to have her expelled. On the contrary, the ordinarily stern witch had pulled Mairead aside after class one morning, personally apologized to her on behalf of Gryffindor House, and then conspiratorially lowered her voice and congratulated Mairead on winning a battle against "the Patriarchy." Mairead decided after that that she really liked Professor McGonagall.
Not that McGonagall could hold a candle to Mairead's favorite professor. Professor Lupin seemed to be quite encouraged by Mairead's success fending off Patrick's unwanted advances. As a result, he ramped up the difficulty of their dueling sessions. Mairead hadn't entirely understood just how easy Lupin had been going on her before, what with giving Mairead time to prepare before each attack, reciting each incantation out loud, and giving her a chance to counter-attack before he attacked her again. Keeping up with him wasn't nearly so easy now, and she knew that Lupin must still be holding back, as she frequently left the History of Magic classroom dehydrated and out of breath, and he never even broke a sweat. Nevertheless, he seemed to be delighted with her progress and had told her that they might be able to move onto Third Year spells by the last week in February, a week ahead of schedule.
Professor Lupin had given her a look at his Third Year curriculum and Mairead felt a surge of adrenaline every time she thought of facing a Boggart again. They still hadn't worked out how she would banish a Boggart, which added to Mairead's anxiety as Lupin had told her Boggarts were almost guaranteed to come up on her practical O.W.L. examination. She took calming breaths and crossed her fingers they wouldn't be tackling Boggarts that night as she approached Lupin's office door one Monday evening in late February.
It turned out to be a moot point, however, as she saw a note attached to Lupin's closed office door. Mairead saw that it was addressed to her and pulled it off the door to read it.
Mairead,
I'm feeling a bit under the weather this evening and think it would be best to skip tonight's lesson. I'm sorry for the short notice, but I hope you will enjoy the unexpected evening to yourself.
Yours,
R. J. Lupin
Mairead frowned at the letter. Lupin seemed to fall ill somewhat more frequently than was normal. She could count on one hand the number of times she could remember another teacher calling out sick, and that was combining all seven of her years at Hogwarts and all of her other professors. This was the second time he had been sick this year. She remembered all too well his sick day back in November. Mairead felt worry prick at the back of her neck as she suddenly remembered that Snape had said that was the second time he had subbed for Professor Lupin.
So this is actually the third time he's been sick this year, she thought. He must have a lousy immune system. She decided that if Professor Lupin was still sick the next day she would skip Defense Against the Dark Arts. No way am I going to sit through another Defense lesson of Snape's, she thought darkly.
Mairead folded Lupin's letter, put it carefully into her pocket, and headed over to the library. She wanted to make Professor Lupin proud, and so she searched the card catalog, found a few volumes that covered Boggarts, and settled down into a carrel to study up. She told herself that she would spend the hour coming up with three possible defenses against a Boggart. She told herself that, but instead, she wasted most of the hour re-reading Professor Lupin's letter, speculating on what the "J" might stand for, tracing her index finger over and over his signature, and feeling pleasure swoop through her stomach every time she thought of the way he had signed off.
Yours.
If only.
...
It turned out that Mairead needn't have worried about Snape substituting for Lupin, because the next morning Professor Sprout had come around to the Hufflepuff table and handed out a notice of a temporary schedule change.
"Professor Lupin is out sick today," she had briskly explained to Mairead, Statia, and the rest of the Seventh Year class. "So you'll be doubling up with the Ravenclaws tomorrow afternoon instead."
Mairead now sat on the ground outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, chatting with Ansel and waiting for the previous class to let out.
When the bell rang, Ansel helped Mairead to her feet and together they filed into the classroom.
Mairead immediately looked for Professor Lupin at the head of the class, but couldn't see him. It wasn't until the sea of faces pushing past her had surged out of the classroom that she saw him sitting behind his desk drinking a glass of water.
Mairead stopped short. Lupin looked terrible. His normally pale face looked almost grey. She could see in his expression that he was exhausted and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. His hand, normally so steady while dueling with her, had a slight tremor as he lowered the glass to his desk. Nevertheless, he seemed to sense her looking at him and smiled over at her. She forced a smile onto her face but looked away quickly, not wanting to insult him with the concern that must have been written all over her face.
She took her seat next to Ansel, still frowning.
"He still looks ill, doesn't he?" she murmured to Ansel. He followed her gaze up to the front of the room and hummed his agreement.
Mairead continued to steal glances at Professor Lupin while the other students settled in. He really didn't look like he should be back teaching yet.
Regardless of how Mairead felt about the matter, Professor Lupin rose to his feet once everyone was situated and began speaking about a concealment spell called Cave Inimicum. Professor Lupin was always soft-spoken, but Mairead thought that he was speaking even more quietly than usual, and his voice sounded hoarse.
Despite her concerns, Lupin was engaging and lively as always. He lectured for the first twenty minutes and then asked the students to rise to their feet. With a casual wave of his wand, the desks pushed themselves to the back of the classroom, leaving a clear space for the students to practice.
Professor Lupin paired the students up to practice for a half hour, and then devoted the rest of the time to having the students come up one by one and practice raising a protective barrier. Mairead normally circled the room with Professor Lupin and assisted her classmates during practical lessons, but she felt uncomfortable with the thought of doing that in front of a bunch of Ravenclaws, and so she fell to the back and observed for the remainder of the lesson. Lupin didn't bother her about her reticence, though, merely giving her a warm smile whenever he caught eyes with her, and once touching her lightly on the arm in a friendly gesture as he brushed past her.
Mairead's stomach was growling by the end of the lesson, and she and Ansel made plans to walk to dinner together when the bell rang. Mairead hesitated at Lupin's desk as she and Ansel passed it on their way out.
"How are you feeling, Professor?" she asked when Lupin looked up from piling his notes into his briefcase.
"Much better, thank you," he said. "See you tonight at eight?"
Mairead frowned. "Are you sure?" she asked anxiously. "We can skip if you're not feeling up for it - if you'd rather rest."
"Nonsense," said Lupin briskly, snapping his briefcase shut. "I look forward to it."
Mairead pursed her lips uncertainly, but nodded anyway and followed Ansel out into the corridor.
Mairead was still concerned about Lupin, but was soon distracted by her conversation with Ansel. He had applied for an internship with the British Ministry of Magic's embassy in France and confided to her as they passed through the Entrance Hall that he had just learned that morning that he was to be granted an interview. Mairead listened eagerly as he told her what the position would entail. He looked as excited as Mairead ever saw him, which was to say that his voice sounded completely ordinary, his eyes were shining only slightly more than usual and a barely noticeable, ghost of a smile flitted across his lips from time to time.
It was clear to Mairead that he was ecstatic.
"It's the British embassy in France but the Ministry obviously have embassies all over the world," Ansel said calmly as they walked into the Great Hall.
"Would much travel be involved?" Mairead asked, following Ansel over to the Ravenclaw table. Ansel nodded solemnly, one cheek twitching almost imperceptibly.
"Yes, at least all over Europe," said Ansel. "And the internship culminates in an opportunity to be a co-presenter at the annual conference for the International Confederation of Wizards."
"Oh, my God, that's amazing!" said Mairead, clutching Ansel's arm and jumping up and down on the spot.
"What's amazing?"
Mairead turned and saw Edgar approaching the Ravenclaw table and slinging his bag over the back of a chair.
"Tell him, tell him, tell him!" Mairead said. Ansel raised an eyebrow impassively at her.
"I have an interview with the British embassy in France," Ansel told Edgar.
"That's excellent, mate!" Edgar said, clapping Ansel on the back.
"Thanks," said Ansel.
"Tell him about the conference!" Mairead said. She turned to Edgar. "Wait'll you hear about this."
Mairead listened, beaming happily for her friend as he briefly described the conference to Edgar. She was so overjoyed for Ansel that she didn't notice someone behind her saying, "Margaret. Hey, Margaret."
Edgar nudged her. "I think he means you," he said, nodding behind Mairead.
She turned and saw Roger Davies standing right behind her, looking gorgeous and looking right at her.
"Me?" she asked, pointing to herself in confusion. Roger jerked his head up in acknowledgement.
"Heard what you did to that Gryffindor knob," said Roger, a smile playing around his lips.
It took Mairead a second to get past her surprise that Roger Davies - Roger Davies! - was speaking to her. Edgar nudged her subtly.
"Oh!" she said, remembering that she was also supposed to speak. "Right. Yeah."
Roger gave her a sexy smile and said, "That was pretty cool. I like a woman who can hold her own."
Mairead tried to respond, but all that came out was a series of unintelligible squeaking sounds. Roger's eyes raked over her body slowly. As she watched, his tongue darted out to moisten his lips and she thought she might die on the spot.
"Well, see you around, Margaret."
He shrugged his way in between Ansel and Edgar and was halfway towards his friends at the other end of the table when, in a sudden burst of bravery, Mairead called out, "It's Mairead!"
Roger turned back. "What was that?" he asked.
Mairead stood stunned for a moment. She looked over at Ansel for help.
"Your name?" Ansel reminded her.
"Oh, right!" Mairead remembered. "My name. It's Mairead. It's not Margaret. Or Mary, actually. Not that there's anything wrong with those names; they're great! Really nice names. Margaret. And Mary..."
Roger slouched on one hip. "What did you say your name was again?"
"Mairead," she breathed.
One corner of Roger's mouth turned up. "Mairead," he said, trying it out. "Is that French?"
"Uh-huh," Mairead said, nodding. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Ansel clap a hand over his eyes and shake his head.
Mairead watched breathlessly as Roger's eyes once again took his time looking her up and down. Finally, he said, "I like that. Pretty name." She wasn't sure how long he looked at her, but it was long enough for Mairead to feel like she was about to catch fire. "Will I see you at the match on Saturday?" he asked.
"Match?" she asked quizzically.
Roger raised his eyebrows. "Hufflepuff versus Slytherin?" he said. Mairead could tell from his facial expression that this was supposed to be obvious. "The deciding match for who's going to go up against Gryffindor for the House Cup?"
"Oh, right, the Quidditch match!" said Mairead, trying to play it off casually. "That match. Oh, yeah. Yep. Definitely will be there. I never miss them. I love Quidditch."
Roger smiled crookedly at her. "Maybe I'll see you there," he said.
Then, without saying anything else, he turned and left. Mairead watched him go, feeling dazed and lightheaded.
She was brought back to earth by Edgar saying, "French?"
Mairead blinked and looked over at him.
"'Is that French?!'" Edgar repeated.
Mairead shrugged. "It kinda sounds French," she said defensively.
"Are you kidding me?!" Edgar exclaimed. "You've got the most Irish name of all time. Your name is, like, Potato McLeprechaun!"
Ansel snorted, but Mairead put her hands on her hips and angrily said, "You are missing the point!"
Edgar cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? And pray tell: quel est le point?"
Mairead huffed out an indignant breath and said, "The point is... can you cover for me at the library on Saturday?"
"Why?" Edgar challenged. "Have to go shopping for a new beret?"
Mairead stared stonily at him.
"You know I'm going to the match with Jonathan," said Edgar.
She winced. "I do know that," she conceded. "Well, then, will you help me find someone to cover for me?"
"You don't even like Quidditch," Ansel pointed out.
"Again, not the point," Mairead said stubbornly.
"You do realize you're kind of pathetic, right, May?" Edgar asked her.
Mairead held up a finger and struggled to find words. "We can deal with that later."
...
"Absolutely not."
"Please, Cedric?" Mairead entreated, her hands clasped in front of her.
"No."
"Just tell me the basics," Mairead negotiated. "Just a few vocabulary words so that I don't look like a complete hippogriff's arse out there."
Cedric turned a page in his Arithmancy textbook. "If you want to learn Quidditch just for some guy then you deserve to look like a hippogriff's arse," he said evenly.
Mairead huffed in frustration. "I thought you'd be glad that I was finally taking an interest in your favourite sport," she said, unabashedly laying on the guilt.
"You're not taking an interest in my favourite sport; you're taking an interest in Roger Davies's cock."
Mairead shushed him frantically. She glanced around to see if anyone had heard him. Mairead had managed to foist her Saturday library shift off on a Ravenclaw girl she had covered for on the Valentine's Day Hogsmeade weekend. Now she was sitting in the Common Room, where she had spent the last ten minutes trying to convince Cedric to teach her about Quidditch, but to no avail. Cedric abjectly refused to help her.
"Cedric, are you upset because I never took an interest in it for you?" she asked, feeling guilt lance through her.
Cedric sighed and looked up from his textbook. "No, May," he said. "It's just... I don't like Roger Davies for you."
"Why?" Mairead asked. "Because he's also a Quidditch Captain and you're rivals?"
He shook his head. "No, of course it's not that. Roger..." he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "He's not a nice guy, Mairead," he finally said quietly. "I don't personally have a problem with him. I just don't like him for you. Not for you."
Mairead frowned. "I've never noticed a problem with him," she said. "Where's this coming from?"
"He uses girls," said Cedric. "Haven't you ever noticed how quickly he goes through girlfriends?"
"Well, maybe he just has poor taste in women," Mairead argued. "Maybe he's only ever dated girls who like him because he's on the Quidditch team."
"As opposed to girls who like him because he's just, like, so dreamy?" Cedric rejoined.
"That's not why I like him!" Mairead insisted indignantly. "Roger's really great. He's got a sense of humour and he's really interesting. He's traveled all over the world AND he also takes Muggle Studies. And I disagree that he's not a nice guy. Remember that time he found the bird's nest on top of one of the Quidditch stands? Remember how he relocated the nest and made sure the mama bird knew where to find it?"
"Wow. One good deed in five years. I'm blown away," said Cedric, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, May."
"No, you come on," Mairead shot back in frustration. "I have always supported you throughout your ridiculous crushes. Always. Remember that girl you went out with who collected her clippings from every haircut she'd ever gotten? I supported you through that. And the girl who only dated guys who were vegetarian? I backed you up when you told her you didn't eat meat AND I sneaked food to you after your dates."
Cedric sighed. "Mairead -"
Mairead's eyes flashed at him as she talked over him. "I supported you last year when you wanted to go out with that girl who looked like she could crush your head between her thighs and who asked if she could call you Gilderoy in bed! Now I am asking you nicely: teach me some goddamn Quidditch!"
Cedric raised his eyebrows at her. "This is you asking nicely? What's you asking not nicely?"
Mairead drew herself up to her full height. "Ask. Patrick."
Twenty minutes later Mairead stormed out of the Common Room, fuming.
She stomped up the stairs to the second floor corridor and took a moment to collect herself before knocking on Lupin's office doorframe.
Lupin looked up. He looked about done in, in Mairead's opinion, but he still smiled widely at her and invited her inside.
"I'll just be a minute," he said and returned to his paperwork.
Mairead nodded and began her usual routine while waiting for him. She deposited her bag on the chair in front of Lupin's desk, wandered over to his gramophone, and flipped through the records in the milk crate until she found one that caught her eye.
Lupin looked up as she slipped the vinyl from its sleeve and fitted it onto the turn table. "By the way," he said, "thank you for organizing those. It's so much easier to find what I'm looking for now."
She beamed at him. "I'm so glad!"
Once the record began playing, she looked around the office, bouncing a little on her heels to the beat of the song, until she found Professor Lupin's teapot, this time forgotten on the coffee table. She fetched the tea tin off its usual shelf and brewed them both a cup. She knew by this time how Lupin took his tea, and poured a generous helping of sugar into the mug along with a splash of milk. She walked over and unobtrusively set the mug down by his hand.
He took it with a, "Thanks very much," and took a long sip from it. He sighed. "Has anyone ever told you that you make a fantastic cup of tea?" he asked her appreciatively.
Mairead smiled shyly and pointed questioningly at his bookshelves, silently requesting permission to browse. Lupin waved her on with a hand. She scanned the titles until one caught her eye. She pulled it off the shelf and was scanning the table of contents when she heard Lupin's chair scrape against the floor. A shiver went through her when she heard his voice right behind her.
"Quidditch through the Ages?" he said with a chuckle. "I'm very curious to hear how you plan to work that into Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Mairead looked up from the pages. "Oh, this isn't for that," she admitted. "I'm just trying to learn the rules."
"You don't know the rules to Quidditch?" Lupin asked, taking another drink from his mug. Mairead shook her head.
"I'm supposed to go to the Quidditch match on Saturday and I don't know the first thing about it, only that everyone's obsessed with it," she said glumly.
"I can teach you the game," he offered.
Mairead whirled around to look at him. "Really?!" she squealed.
"Yes, really," said Lupin with a laugh at her overjoyed expression. "I'm no Ludo Bagman but I can at least tell you how the game is played."
"Who's Ludo Bagman?" Mairead asked.
Professor Lupin paused, then said, "Don't worry about that for now."
Mairead convinced Professor Lupin to have a low-key evening in his office. She wanted to win her first duel against him fair and square, not because the man dropped from sheer exhaustion. After the hour had passed Lupin stood up to make them both a second cup of tea.
"You don't have to explain Quidditch to me tonight!" Mairead said, jumping to her feet and twisting her fingers anxiously. "If you want to rest or..." she trailed off uncertainly.
"No time like the present," said Lupin cheerfully.
Mairead shuffled her feet nervously. "But I could come back when you're feeling better!" she suggested, feeling guiltier by the second. "I don't want to be a burden."
Professor Lupin turned and fixed her with a stern look. "I've already told you that you're never a burden," he said firmly. "This will be fun."
"Now," he said once they had both sat back down at his desk. "There are seven players, and -" he broke off and looked around. "This would be better with a diagram."
He pulled out a scroll of parchment and Mairead watched him doodle seven players with broomsticks. "Then there are four balls..." he muttered, and drew four balls, two of one kind, one larger than all the others and one with wings. His hair fell into his eyes as he worked, and Mairead wanted more than anything in the world to reach out and brush her fingers against his free hand that was resting on the desk.
Think of Roger, she told herself sternly. It's Roger you fancy. Not Lupin.
Lupin continued his sketch of a Quidditch field, muttering to himself and unaware of the internal battle going on beside him. "...Three goals posts on each end... and... there!" He sat back, looking satisfied with his drawing. Mairead thought it was quite a good sketch, especially for only a few moments' work.
"Right then," he said. He set down his quill and pulled out his wand. "Seven players to a Quidditch team, in four different roles. Three of the players are called Chasers." Here he touched his wand to three of the players he had drawn and Mairead's mouth opened in surprise as the figures started moving. They mounted their brooms and began zooming back and forth across the ink and paper Quidditch pitch. "Chasers," Lupin went on, "as the name suggests, chase after this ball, called the Quaffle." He jabbed his wand at the largest of the balls he had drawn and it began moving as well. Mairead watched, intrigued, as the three Chasers began tossing the Quaffle back and forth to one another as they flew.
"Chasers try to get the Quaffle through one of their opponents' hoops. When they succeed, they get ten points." As Lupin spoke, one of the Chasers did just that. Lupin frowned. "Oh, hang on -" He picked up his quill and hunched over his drawing again. When he sat back a scoreboard had been added to the drawing.
"Now, there is another player, called the Keeper. The Keeper stays by the goal posts and their job is to prevent their opponents' team from scoring." Professor Lupin tapped another of the stationary players, who mounted and flew off to one end of the field and began circling the goal posts.
Professor Lupin went through all seven of the players and the remainder of the balls until the entire drawing was moving. Mairead watched in fascination as the sketched characters zipped around the parchment. She giggled breathlessly when a Chaser with messy black hair and glasses made a spectacular score. Watching him, she frowned in confusion.
That's strange, she thought to herself. I thought Harry Potter was a Seeker, not a Chaser.
"It's Hufflepuff versus Slytherin this weekend, right?" Lupin said, drawing her out of her thoughts.
"I think so?" said Mairead uncertainly.
"Well in that case we'd better go over a few of the more common fouls in Quidditch," said Lupin. "By far the most common foul is Cobbing. That's an excessive use of elbows..."
Mairead wound up staying in Lupin's office for quite a bit longer. Once they had exhausted the conversation of Quidditch they moved onto other topics until they lost track of time. They were having a lively conversation about film noir when Lupin glanced at the clock on the wall and gave a start.
"Oh, no, it's half an hour past curfew," he said, standing up. "I'd better walk you back. This is getting to be a bad habit of ours," he added with a coy smile.
When he smiled at her like that, Mairead felt she would follow him to the ends of the earth.
"May I ask you a question?" Professor Lupin said as they left his office and set off for the Hufflepuff basement together.
"'Course," said Mairead, surprised to see Lupin looking slightly abashed.
"Why do some of your friends call you 'May'?" he asked.
"Oh, that," Mairead said with a laugh. "It's a play on my name, of sorts."
"Oh? How so?"
"Well, a lot of people mispronounce my name," Mairead said. "They think it's pronounced 'May-Reed' because of how it's spelled. There was this caseworker who was working with St. Hedwig's for a while trying to get us all adopted or fostered, and she called me May-Reed every single time she saw me. It didn't matter how many people corrected her, how many times I told her - 'it rhymes with parade.' To her I was just always going to be May-Reed. It used to drive me do-lally, so naturally my friends called me that as often as possible. Somehow it morphed into a nickname."
"Hmm," Lupin hummed, frowning thoughtfully. "Does it still bother you?"
"Nah," she said. "I like it now. They don't mean it poorly. It's almost like a term of endearment." Professor Lupin nodded.
"So you had a caseworker who tried to get you adopted?" he asked.
Mairead nodded. "Not that she had much success, mind. For some reason nobody wanted to adopt the socially inept Squib daughter of a Death Eater. Can't imagine why..."
Lupin looked over at her as they walked. "Their loss," he said quietly.
They arrived at the pile of wine barrels and paused.
"Well, I'll get outta your hair, then," Mairead said, sidling reluctantly towards the barrels, not wanting him to leave. "See you tomorrow in class?"
Professor Lupin smiled. "Yes, I'll see you tomorrow."
Lupin considered her for a few moments before bidding her a good night and walking off. Mairead remembered how uncomfortable his protracted gaze used to make her. Now when Lupin looked at her this way she felt seen in a way she never had been before. She was so relieved to be back in his company. He had only been sick for two days and yet she had missed him like he had been gone for months.
She sighed wistfully and leaned against the barrels, watching his retreating form until he turned a corner and was gone.
...
The Saturday of the Quidditch match dawned sunny and unseasonably warm, which was fine by Mairead.
I've got absolutely zero interest in shivering my arse off in the stands, she thought to herself as she trudged down to the field. She joined the throng of people waiting to climb the stairs up to the Hufflepuff stands. While she was waiting she reached into her pocket and pulled out Lupin's drawing, which he had given to her to keep.
"Keep it with you and take a look at it if you get lost during the game," he had told her.
"What's that?" asked a voice behind her.
Mairead turned and saw Roger Davies standing there, his dark curls and the tassels on his Ravenclaw scarf stirring in a light breeze.
"Oh, nothing," she said, hastily folding the drawing and shoving it back into her pocket.
Roger looked at her, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. Then, he jerked his head in the direction of the Ravenclaw stands and said, "Why don't you come and sit with me?"
"B-but I'm a Hufflepuff," she said stupidly.
"Yeah, I can see that," Roger teased, reaching out a hand and stroking the yellow rosette Mairead was wearing in her hair.
I think my heart just stopped, Mairead thought to herself. Where's Lupin when you need him? She mentally slapped herself. STOP thinking about Lupin. He is not the one you're crushing on. It's Roger.
Roger took a step closer to her and leaned in. "C'mon, be a rule breaker with me," he said in a low voice.
Mairead found herself nodding. "Okay," she breathed.
Mairead followed Roger up the many flights of stairs to the Ravenclaw stands. By the time they reached the top Mairead was clutching a stitch in her side and gasping for air like a goldfish that had flopped out of its bowl and Roger... well, Mairead supposed his cheeks were a little pink.
Mairead looked around and spotted Edgar, who was looking very cozy in a corner with Jonathan. The two had a shared blanket thrown over their laps and were passing the lid of a thermos back and forth, taking sips of some hot beverage. Mairead waved to Edgar, still too out of breath to speak, but he was too intent on his date to notice her.
Roger placed a hand on the small of Mairead's back (oh my God, oh my God, ohmyGod) and steered her to the very front of the box. She leaned over and looked down off the edge of the stands and immediately wished she hadn't.
Letting out an "Oof" of vertigo, Mairead sat down in her chair, feeling dizzy and uncomfortably aware of how high up she was.
Roger sat down beside her but immediately turned in his seat and began chatting with other members of the Ravenclaw team as they arrived. Mairead told herself to be content with the fact that Roger was using the back of her chair for leverage to twist around and address one of the Ravenclaw Beaters behind them and busied herself by looking across at the other stands and wondering if Professor Lupin was in the staff box.
"Hello."
Mairead looked around and saw that a very pretty girl had just sat down on her other side. She had a round face, long, straight black hair that shone in the morning light and beautiful, almond-shaped brown eyes. Mairead returned her smile.
"Hi there," she responded.
"I'm Cho," the girl said.
"Oh! Cho Chang?" Mairead asked. The girl nodded, smiling. "Cedric's told me all about you! He says you're a brilliant... erm... whichever, erm, y'know..." she gestured feebly out at the field. "Like, character you play. Flying Quidditch character. Sports broom character team... person." Mairead faltered, feeling more foolish by the minute.
Cho's smile widened. "Position?" she asked politely.
"Yes! That. That's what I meant," Mairead answered lamely.
"That was really kind of Cedric," Cho said, a pretty blush only serving to highlight her flawless complexion.
Mairead did her best to act casually and not succumb to her own awkwardness. She was willing to bet all of her savings that Cedric had a serious crush on Cho, and the last thing she wanted to do was secondhand embarrass him.
"Cedric's mentioned you, too," Cho said with a quick glance at Mairead. Mairead had the distinct impression she was being sized up. "He speaks really highly of you." Cho sounded like she was trying her best (and failing) not to sound resentful.
Ah, Mairead thought. so this is where this is going. After years of being best friends with an enormously popular and really rather annoyingly handsome boy, Mairead had grown used to envious girls using various catty methods to try to put Mairead in what they imagined to be her place. Cho seemed nice enough to Mairead, but Mairead could already tell that she was being assessed for how big a threat she posed to Cho. Cedric really seemed to fancy Cho, and so Mairead decided to take advantage of this rare opportunity to wingman for him.
She smiled casually. "Cedric's great. He's a really good friend of mine," she said, trying to emphasize the word "friend."
Cho nodded and looked like she was trying to calculate Mairead's motives. "That's nice," Cho said in a carefully neutral tone that didn't sound neutral at all. Time to be more obvious, Mairead thought.
"It's so nice to finally meet you, Cho," Mairead said, smiling genuinely. "Between you and me Cedric doesn't shut up about you, so it's really nice to have a face to put to your name."
Cho looked immeasurably pleased by this. "Oh!" she said breathlessly, ducking her head and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I hope that doesn't bother you," Cho added, looking piercingly up at Mairead as she said this.
Mairead shook her head. "No, not at all!" she said, then added carelessly, "It's nice to see him fancy someone actually good enough for him. Not that he fancies you!" she added hastily, hoping her affected panic came across as genuine. "Shit! Please don't tell him I told you that; he'll murder me."
Cho looked pleased enough to fly around the Quidditch stadium without a broom. She giggled, blushing prettily. "I won't tell him," she assured Mairead softly.
"Thanks," said Mairead, feigning relief.
Cho looked curiously at her. "So, what brings you to the Ravenclaw stands?" she asked.
"Oh, erm," Mairead gestured awkwardly at Roger, who still hadn't spoken one word to her. "Roger, erm..."
"Oh." Cho nodded as if this explained everything, and Mairead couldn't help but feel that Cho knew something she didn't.
Before she could delve into it further, though, a magnified voice boomed out across the stands and welcomed the spectators to the penultimate Quidditch match of the season.
Roger turned back around at last, but he kept his arm on the back of Mairead's chair. Even though he wasn't even technically touching her, nervousness twisted in Mairead's stomach.
The game began, and immediately Mairead was lost. She tried her best, but she had no idea where to look. At one point she thought she was following along fairly well, but then the announcer, a Gryffindor boy Mairead didn't know, crowed that Hufflepuff had scored and she realized she had been looking at the completely wrong end of the Quidditch pitch. With a frustrated sigh, Mairead figured she would just listen to the crowd and mimic their reactions to try to appear as though she understood what she was seeing, but the crowd seemed to scream regardless of what was taking place on the field.
After the game had been going on for some time, much of the crowd seemed to grow angry and the announcer started bellowing, "That's GOT to be a foul!"
Madam Hooch's whistle sounded and the players stopped playing and flew to the ground. Mairead supposed someone must have called a timeout. Roger turned around again in his seat and resumed talking to the Beater behind them, and Mairead took the opportunity to pull Lupin's drawing out of her pocket. She didn't know what she expected to gain from it, but she was grasping at straws. She unfolded the drawing and gasped.
Notes were scrawled along the bottom half of the parchment below where the drawing ended. Mairead recognized Professor Lupin's handwriting, but she was positive these notes hadn't been there before. She began reading and her eyes widened in disbelief. The notes appeared to be a summary of what had happened in the game so far. Lupin must have charmed it somehow.
She looked up sharply and scanned the crowd, as if expecting to be able to see Lupin somewhere in the stands.
Eagerly, she turned back to the parchment and read his notes as quickly as possible. Interspersed between notes about who scored when, Lupin had also included tips on how to watch the game, such as, You might find it more helpful to try to keep an eye on the Quaffle rather than the players, since it can be hard to tell them apart at first. The notes ended with Now THAT was Cobbing, which Mairead supposed was the foul the announcer had been talking about right before the timeout was called.
Madam Hooch's whistle blew again, and the players flew back up into the air. Mairead watched, brow furrowed, as all of the players hovered off to one side except for one of the Hufflepuff players, who took the Quaffle and approached the goalposts normally guarded by the Slytherin Keeper.
Mairead looked down at the parchment hopefully and saw fresh, hastily scrawled words glistening there.
Hufflepuff was awarded a foul, which means Heidi gets to take a shot at the goal without interference.
Heidi scored easily and the game resumed.
Mairead watched the rest of the game far more happily, and found that with Lupin's help she was much more able to keep up with what was happening, to the point that the next time the crowd roared its anger at the players she joined in with, "That was Cobbing again!"
Roger looked over at her and smirked. "Looks like your team is taking a beating, Mairead," he said, leaning in close to her ear.
Mairead made a face and nodded. Roger chuckled. Another foul was awarded, but this time the Chaser who took the shot was bleeding heavily from his forehead into his eyes and he missed the goal. Roger hissed in a breath.
"It's not looking good," he muttered to Mairead, who was too distracted to answer. She had been feeling something tickling the back of her neck and had just realized that Roger was toying with her hair. She was too shy to do anything to reciprocate, so she just swallowed thickly and watched the game play out, consulting Professor Lupin's notes whenever she got lost. When the space beneath the drawing ran out, an arrow appeared directing Mairead to flip the parchment over, where the notes resumed.
Though she couldn't be sure what she was seeing, it looked to Mairead that her House's team were better flyers, but the Slytherin team were so vicious that the Hufflepuff team members were constantly getting hurt. In the end, two of Hufflepuff's Chasers and one of its Beaters had to leave the game due to injuries. Mairead glanced down at the parchment and read, Unfortunately at this point it's just a waiting game until the Snitch makes an appearance (remember: the game can't end until the Snitch is caught).
Finally, after what felt like ages, Cedric and Draco Malfoy both went into a dive in the same direction. Malfoy's broom was faster but Cedric was a better flyer, and he swerved around Malfoy at the last second and came out of the dive holding his fist in the air.
The crowd's cheers were deafening, but the announcer said that Slytherin had still won the game. Mairead was confused, and looked down at the parchment. Sure enough, an explanation was glistening in fresh ink: Cedric was trying to drive Draco off-course, but when he saw that he couldn't the only thing he could do to prevent Draco from catching the Snitch was to catch it himself.
Mairead frowned unhappily just as Roger looked over at her.
"It was the best Diggory could do just to stop Malfoy catching the Snitch," he said at her expression.
"He tried to drive Malfoy off-course but he could see if wasn't working," Mairead said, echoing what she had read. "His best bet was to just cut his losses."
Roger shrugged. "Too bad, really," he said. "Hufflepuffs aren't so bad." With that, he reached over, pulled the rosette out of Mairead's hair, and tucked it behind his own ear playfully.
Mairead giggled and reached for it. "Hey, that's mine!" she said mock-seriously.
Roger caught her fingers in his own and leaned in close. "What'll you trade me for it?" he asked in a low voice.
Mairead's breath caught in her throat. "W-what do you want for it?" she asked breathlessly.
Roger smiled seductively. "How about you come to Hogsmeade with me next weekend and we can negotiate for its release?"
...
Mairead sat in her bed that night thinking over the day's events. She still felt a jolt of surprise every time she remembered that she had a date - an actual date! - with Roger Davies in Hogsmeade next weekend. He had even walked down the stairs out of the Ravenclaw stands with her and put his arm around her while they walked back up to the castle.
That happiness was tempered by Cedric's disappointment at losing the match, and consequently a shot at the House Cup. He had always been a good sport and he put on a good face for the House, but Mairead could tell that he was livid at Slytherin's cheating, just like the rest of the House was.
Overall Mairead was glad that she had finally gotten to see one of Cedric's matches, even though it had ended badly, and she was doubly grateful for Professor Lupin's help in ensuring that she could at least partially understand what was going on.
She played with one corner of the parchment paper he had given her, then flipped it open once more. She watched the players zooming around still playing their roles, although whatever charm Professor Lupin had used was starting to wear off. One of the Beaters stopped midair and yawned hugely, letting a Bludger whip past him and ram into the abdomen of the Harry Potter lookalike Chaser, knocking his glasses askew.
Mairead giggled as she watched this play out. Her laughter turned into a pensive sigh as she re-read all of the notes Lupin had written. She flipped the parchment over to the other side and read Lupin's last note to her: I'm sorry for Hufflepuff's loss, but I hope you enjoyed the match all the same. See you Monday evening.
He had devoted the entire match to writing her notes to help her keep up. More than that, he had stayed up late earlier that week when he hadn't been feeling well to go over the rules with her. She read the notes once more, imagining them in his voice and longing so badly for him that it almost felt like actual, physical pain.
She felt tears fill her eyes at the futility of her crush. Nothing was ever going to come of it, obviously. She was only making herself miserable with daydreams of things that could never happen. And for the first time ever, Roger was taking notice of her. He had flirted with her, touched her, and asked her to go out with him. It simply made no sense to sabotage her chances with Roger, whom she had fancied forever, to pine over a man who probably saw her as a child, and who only spent as much time with her as he did because he was being paid to. It wasn't as though he actually liked her or wanted to be around her. He was nice to her because it was his job to be nice to her. Roger was nice to her because... well, she wasn't entirely sure.
But she wasn't about to let a ridiculous schoolgirl fantasy stop her from finding out.
...
Songs for this chapter: The song Mairead played in Remus's office was "Runaround Sue," by Dion. Soundtrack for this chapter: "Gonna Get Over You," by Sara Bareilles (Mairead)