Author's Note: Special thanks to GraceMonroe for your review! It made me so happy! Also, thank you very much to the Guest who wrote me a review! I appreciate you!
Just a quick disclaimer that this chapter contains dialogue lifted directly from Chapter Fourteen of Prisoner of Azkaban (Snape's Grudge). I do not own this dialogue. It was written by J.K. Rowling, and she holds the copyright. Also, Trans Women are Women.
Enjoy!
...
Chapter Eleven: Puddifoot and PadfootMairead spent the next week in breathless anticipation of her date with Roger. She was absolutely determined to get over her absurd crush on Professor Lupin. Every time her thoughts strayed to him, she brought them back by thinking about what she would wear on her date with Roger, how she would fix her hair, and what talking points she should prepare.
Roger did not appear to share her nervous excitement about their date. He certainly made his presence known to Mairead more so than he ever had (not that she needed his help to be aware of him), but from the way he conducted himself, it almost seemed as though he felt neutrally about their date. Roger did not come visit Mairead in the library, nor did he walk her to any of her classes as Patrick had during his attempted courtship. But while Roger was less attentive than Patrick had been, he was undeniably more overtly flirtatious.
Roger's way of making himself known to Mairead consisted of smiling seductively and nodding at her when they passed in corridors, tugging the ends of her hair when he was nearby, and once, finding Mairead outside reading under her tree on a mild day and laying his head in her lap without so much as a "hello." He never spoke to her much, but Mairead decided this was a good thing, as she didn't want to use up all of her conversation topics before the date.
Finally, the morning of the Hogsmeade trip arrived. Mairead checked her appearance in the mirror one last time. She twisted her mouth as she nervously gave her head a semi-vigorous shake to test the hold of the updo she had spent half an hour on. Everything held.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Mairead gathered up the few things she thought she would need on her date, did one last up-close inspection of her makeup, and left her dorm room.
She arrived in the Entrance Hall ten minutes before the time she and Roger had agreed upon, and settled down on the ground to wait, wishing she had brought a book. She nervously touched her hair to check for loose pins, scraped dirt and ink out from under her nails, and made popping sounds with her mouth until she realized that she could ruin her lipstick that way. Jumping to her feet, she skittered to the nearest girls' room to check her makeup once more. When she got back to the Entrance Hall Roger was there waiting for her, slouching against a wall. Mairead's eyebrows went up in surprise and she checked her watch.
Roger was right on time.
See? she challenged herself. He arrives when he says he's going to. Not like Lu- like other people.
Giving her head a slight shake to rid it of inappropriate, out-of-place, and entirely too pleasant thoughts of spending a day wandering the streets of Hogsmeade with Professor Lupin, Mairead fixed a smile on her face and walked over to Roger, nervously touching her hair.
Roger smiled and shrugged off the wall when he saw her.
"You look great," he said, looking her up and down.
"Thanks," Mairead said, her voice unnaturally high. "You, too."
"Shall we?"
Mairead nodded and walked out the doors with Roger. As soon as they got to the bottom of the steps, Roger reached out and took Mairead's hand.
A thrill went through Mairead and she smiled shyly up at Roger. He smirked at her and moved his fingers so they were intertwined with hers.
Mairead resisted the urge to bite her lip, not wanting to get lipstick on her teeth.
They walked for a few minutes in silence. Mairead glanced over at Roger, who seemed perfectly content with the silence.
Or was he?
Mairead stole a closer look and worried that perhaps he was already bored. It was so difficult to tell!
Figuring it was best to start the conversation, Mairead said, "Erm, so, where did you grow up, Roger?"
"Bristol," he answered.
Mairead waited for a second or two for him to reciprocate, and when he didn't, she asked, "Do your parents still live there?"
"Yep."
"I've never been to Bristol," said Mairead. "Is it nice there?"
Roger shrugged. "It's all right," he said noncommittally.
"Is there someplace you'd prefer to live?" Mairead asked. "Where would you go if you could go anywhere?"
Roger squinted in the morning light. "Dunno," he said carelessly. "I've been all over. Everywhere's sorta the same, if you think about it."
"Oh, yeah!" Mairead said. She decided to try for the philosophical. "Yeah, for sure. That's what's so interesting about humanity, isn't it? We're all unique, and yet we're all basically the same."
Roger didn't answer.
Mairead started to feel even more nervous than she had before. She felt like she was failing spectacularly.
Trying once again to strike up conversation, she asked, "D'you know what you want to do once you graduate?"
"I expect I'll be playing Quidditch," Roger said a touch arrogantly.
"Do you know which team you'd like to be on?"
"Well the Appleby Arrows is the dream, isn't it?" said Roger. "But I expect I'd be on reserve at least to start."
"Oh, sure," Mairead said, fervently hoping that she would not be required to demonstrate a knowledge of what it meant to be on reserve with a Quidditch team. Is it like reserving a book at the library?
"'Spect you're a fan of the Ballycastle Bats?" Roger said, and Mairead perked up. This was the first time he had engaged her in conversation.
"Oh! Erm, well, it's been a while since I've been back to Ireland," Mairead hedged. "D'you think I ought to choose an English team to support?"
Roger smiled at her. "You could support the Wimbourne Wasps," he said slyly. "Their colors are also yellow and black."
Mairead laughed nervously. "It's settled then," she said. "I'll be a Wimbourne Wasps fan from this day forward."
Roger talked about Quidditch the rest of the walk to Hogsmeade. Mairead had to do some complex acrobatics to avoid revealing how little she knew about Quidditch, but eventually found that, whenever Roger asked her a question or expected input from her in any way, she could fairly easily turn the conversation around by asking his opinion, of which he had many.
They arrived in Hogsmeade and Roger led them toward Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. Mairead swallowed nervously as a tinkling bell announced their presence. The last time she had been in here had been with Steven, her ex-boyfriend.
Madam Puddifoot squeezed between the tables crowded into the stuffy tearoom and ushered them to a table.
Mairead and Roger sat, and immediately Mairead felt Roger's knee press against hers under the table. She shifted hers away but only a few seconds later felt his knee against hers again.
Mairead could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She decided it was not a good idea to add to her anxiety by drinking coffee and so ordered a hot cocoa instead. Roger toyed with her fingers while they waited for their drinks. Mairead sent up a silent prayer that her palms would not be too sweaty.
When their drinks arrived, Mairead looked into her mug and saw that her hot cocoa was topped with heart-shaped marshmallows.
"Aww, cute!" she said before she could stop herself. Roger chuckled.
"You're what's cute," he said. And with that, he leaned across the table and pressed his lips against hers.
Mairead gasped in surprise, and Roger took that as an invitation to pull her bottom lip into his mouth and run his tongue along it.
There is a very decent chance I'm going to faint, Mairead thought to herself as she finally regained enough self-awareness to kiss Roger back.
Roger tangled his free hand in her hair and Mairead immediately felt her meticulous hairdo start to come undone.
Well, I guess it did its job, she thought giddily to herself as she tentatively touched the tip of her tongue to Roger's top lip. Roger was a very confident kisser, and he quickly took control of the kiss. Mairead happily followed his lead, and even more happily lived out another of her fantasies when she reached her hand up and tangled her fingers around his mahogany curls.
Roger freed up the hand that was holding hers and reached under the table to brush her knee. He stroked her knee firmly in circles, then slid his hand slowly up her thigh until he was under her skirt. Mairead wasn't sure whether she was grateful or frustrated that she was wearing tights.
When Roger's hand started to brush even higher across the top of her leg and move inwards, Mairead reached under the table and placed her hand on top of his.
"I think that's first date high enough," she teased, pulling her lips away just enough to allow herself to speak.
Roger puffed out a laugh. "Have it your way, then," he said, dropping one more kiss on her lips before sitting back. He took a sip from his coffee and looked at her appraisingly over the rim of his mug. "Now that that's out of the way," he said briskly. "Are you ready to stop pretending you know anything about Quidditch and let me explain it to you properly?"
...
It was an absolutely beautiful day. Remus had opened his window to let the unseasonably mild breeze drift into his office and rustle his quills and papers. He couldn't seem to keep his mind on his work, and decided to go outside for a walk before the weather changed its mind again. He had just swung his robes on overtop of his clothes when his fireplace lit up green.
"Lupin!" Remus heard Snape's voice bark from within the flames. "I want a word!"
Remus closed his eyes and set his jaw. Then, with a short sigh, he tossed some Floo Powder into his fireplace, stepped inside, and called, "Severus Snape's office."
Once the view stopped swirling and Snape's office materialized, Remus stepped out of the fireplace, ducking to avoid bashing his head, and brushed off his robes.
"You called, Severus?" he asked politely. Immediately his senses went on high alert, as looking around the dungeon room he saw not only Snape, who looked positively livid, but also Harry, whose expression read of extreme nervousness.
"I certainly did," Snape answered, walking over to his desk. "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."
Snape gestured at a square piece of very old-looking parchment. Remus took a step closer and frowned at the four lines of text that were scrawled there. Remus could feel the blood draining from his face as he recognized not only his own handwriting at the top, but that of his three best friends directly beneath.
Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.
Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.
Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.
Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape a good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball.
Remus felt as though he had crashed headlong into a solid wall at top speed. Of all the things he had been expecting to find in Snape's office, one of the two most prized artifacts of his adolescence hadn't even made the list. His eyes lingered longingly on the lines of text. It had been nearly thirteen years since he had last seen the fresh handwriting of James, Padfoot, or Peter, and he felt his throat grow tight as an unbearable pain seized his chest.
How had Harry gotten his hands on the Marauder's Map? It had been confiscated by Filch from his own hands when he, Remus, had only just turned eighteen. They had made several plans to retrieve it, but had always had to abort. In the end, James had suggested that the map belonged more to the castle than it did to its four creators, who were on the verge of graduating, and that they should leave it at Hogwarts in the hopes that it would aid future mischief-makers. Had James fooled them all? Had he managed to retrieve the map on his own and left it to Harry? No, that didn't make any sense. James had cared deeply about the democracy of the group. He never would have subverted the will of the Marauders for his own gain. Padfoot? Definitely. Prongs? No way.
"Well?" Snape's voice jarred him from his memories.
Jolted back to the present, Remus realized that he likely only had one chance to save Harry from the predicament he had gotten himself into. The fail-safe that Remus himself had built into the map to protect it from unwanted intruders - particularly Snape - was obviously still functioning well. There was no reason to believe that Snape had an inkling of the true knowledge contained on this piece of parchment.
But there was also absolutely no way this map would be safe in anyone's hands but his own. His mind raced to come up with an answer that would satisfy Snape.
"Well?" Snape demanded. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?"
Remus decided that the best route would be to play to Snape's own beliefs about Remus and his friends. Snape believed them to be crude, arrogant, and snide, but Remus took a gamble that Snape's own conceit and sense of superiority could be taken advantage of to convince him that this was no more sophisticated than it appeared in its current state.
He looked up from the map, let his eyes flicker over Harry's face in a silent order to let him handle this, and finally met Snape's gaze, a mild mask fixed in place.
"Full of Dark Magic?" he asked in a tone of polite skepticism. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop -"
"Indeed?" asked Snape, his face quivering with barely suppressed fury. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?"
Remus paused, fixing a thoughtful expression on his face as he determined his next move. He figured it was most likely that Snape thought that either James had passed the map down to Harry or that Remus himself had given it to him. Regardless, his response needed to be the same.
"You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?" he said, picking the one person on the map he was certain Harry could never have known about. He turned to Harry, silently praying that he would back him up. "Harry, do you know any of these men?"
"No," Harry said immediately.
At least the boy was relatively quick on his feet.
"You see, Severus?" Remus said to Snape, taking control of the conversation once more. "It looks like a Zonko product to me -"
Remus was just about to gather up the map and make his exit when the door to Snape's office burst open. He, Snape, and Harry turned as one to see Ron Weasley standing in the doorway, cheeks flushed and gasping for air.
"I - gave - Harry - that - stuff," said Ron, pressing hard on his chest to suppress the pain of speaking. "Bought - it... in Zonko's... ages - ago..."
Thank God for small mercies, Remus thought to himself as he clapped his hands to bring the attention back to himself. "Well! That seems to clear that up!" He stepped forward and picked up the map before Snape could say another word. "Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" He winced internally at his clumsy choice of words. Time to get himself, Harry, and Ron out of there as quickly as possible. "Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay - excuse us, Severus -"
Remus strode out of Snape's office, tucking the map securely into an interior pocket. He heard rather than saw Harry and Ron scramble to follow after him.
He walked quickly towards the stairs that would lead them out of the dungeon. He could hear the boys semi-jogging to keep pace with him, but he didn't slow. As soon as he and the boys were out of immediate danger, his thoughts crashed down around him again. Grief swelled up like a wave and threatened to overtake him. Sorrow and pain that Remus had never fully processed enrobed him, and he furiously forced it back down.
How the hell had Harry gotten his hands on that godforsaken map? And just how did he expect to justify holding onto it? As he started up the staircase that would lead to the Entrance Hall, Remus tried to calm himself by reminding himself that Harry was only thirteen. The Marauders had done plenty of reckless things when they were thirteen.
The stakes weren't as high, he argued back. There is literally a mass murderer who has twice gotten into the castle and tried to kill Harry. James would never have been so irresponsible, he thought bitterly. He clenched his hands to stop them shaking with anger and disappointment at James's son.
Once they were in the entrance hall, Harry turned to Remus and entreatingly said, "Professor, I -"
"I don't want to hear any explanations," Remus cut him off. He feared that he might lose control if the boy started making excuses right now. He looked around to make sure they were alone and to buy himself a moment to collect his thoughts before he quietly said, "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago." He saw Harry's and Ron's faces take on looks of surprise. "Yes, I know it's a map. I don't want to know how it fell into your possession. I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around. And I can't let you have it back, Harry."
Don't you dare argue with me, Harry.
Instead, Harry asked, "Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?"
"Because..." Remus paused, unprepared for this to be the line of questioning Harry pursued. He carefully formulated a response that wasn't a lie, but which carefully concealed the information Harry would have truly been interested in. "Because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining."
"Do you know them?" asked Harry eagerly.
Remus looked at the impressed look on the face that reminded him so much of Lily and James, and he felt hot anger flare up. Was that really all Harry cared about? Two men and one woman had died to protect him, a highly skilled and extremely dangerous man was hunting him, and all Harry cared about was the perceived celebrity of the four men Harry would never, could never, know?
"We've met," said Remus, just barely stopping himself from snapping. He wanted to grab Harry by the shoulders and shake him. Demand to know why he had been so thoughtless. How could it be that, of the three men James had been closest to, the one whom he hadn't deemed fit to care for Harry was the one responsible for his protection?
Remus set his jaw. James may not have wanted to make him Harry's godfather. Very well, he could understand the dangers of having a werewolf acting as a father figure. James may not have trusted him to be their Secret Keeper, either. But that didn't change the fact that Remus was the only Marauder left alive. As far as Remus was concerned, Padfoot had died twelve years ago and Sirius Black was nothing more than an imposter wearing the man's skin. It was down to Remus to keep Harry safe. He couldn't let his own grief and anger stand in the way of impressing upon Harry how seriously careless he had been, but perhaps he could harness those feelings and utilize them.
He looked seriously into Harry's emerald eyes. "Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry," he said. "I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. But I would have thought that what you have heard when the dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry. A poor way to repay them - gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."
He turned and walked away without another word. He knew he had been harsh, but he hoped from the stricken look on Harry's face that his words had done their job.
Remus walked back to his office. He closed the door and locked it behind him. Breathing shakily, he pulled the map out of his pocket and smoothed it out on his desk. Pressing the tip of his wand against the parchment, he whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
He watched as lines of ink snaked across the parchment. For the first time in sixteen years, Remus watched the familiar words scrawl across the top of the parchment.
Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present:
THE MARAUDER'S MAP
Like ghosts whispering in his ear, Remus could hear the excited voices of his friends as if they were right beside him.
"I dunno, don't you think it should be alphabetical?"
"'Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, James."
"I still don't like 'providers of tools to help with magical trouble-making.' It's just lacking... something."
"Mmm, it's not very elegant."
"What about 'purveyors'?"
"Nice one, Moony!"
"Wait - what's a purveyor?"
"Honestly, Wormtail, get a dictionary!"
"Calm yourself, Padfoot. A purveyor is like a provider, but fancier."
"Oi! I've got it: 'Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers'."
"Oh, shit. That's perfect."
Remus stared at the map, the voices of himself and his friends echoing in his ears. He didn't notice his breath growing short or his eyes burning until a sob tore out of his throat.
He looked around the room desperately, as if he thought he could find something, anything, that could help him. His breath came in short gasps and he gritted his teeth and screwed up his eyes against the pain that he could no longer hold back.
Grief ripped through his body as he gripped the sides of his desk for support. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was never supposed to be like this. He, Remus, was the one everyone had expected to die young, either as a result of a horrendous transformation or from being hunted down and killed like the threat to civilisation he was. He had never expected to be the one left standing. He had no business being back at Hogwarts when all of his friends were gone.
He was not the one who had deserved to live.
Uncontrollably, Remus let out a roar of anguish. He unleashed his pent up wrath on the wastebasket at his feet, kicking it repeatedly until it was nothing but a twisted pile of metal. Then, letting out another agonized cry he picked up the demolished wastebasket and hurled it across the room with all his strength, where it crashed into the mantelpiece and dropped to the ground with a loud crash.
Remus stood there, panting not from the exertion but from the pain searing through his body. He suddenly felt like a caged beast. He had to get out of here.
He strode over to his office door and threw it open. He walked mindlessly, heedless of the concerned looks he was given by the few stray students who passed him. He had no goal; had made no conscious decision of where he could go to find peace and comfort, which was why he was taken aback when he stopped suddenly and realized that his feet had carried him to the library.
Still operating more on instinct than on rational thought, he walked into the library and headed for the help desk. His steps slowed when Penelope Clearwater looked up at him from the desk and smiled.
"Hello, Professor Lupin!" she said sweetly. "May I help you?"
"Where is Mairead?"
He hadn't realized until the words were out of his mouth that the girl was whom he had come looking for.
"In Hogsmeade with everyone else, I imagine," Penelope answered, looking a little sulky.
Remus sighed. Of course, he thought. That's probably where Harry was too when he got caught with the map.
"Is there anything I can help you with, sir?" Penelope asked.
He shook his head. "No," he said curtly. Noticing the slightly stung look on Penelope's face, he forced a benign smile onto his face. "But thanks very much anyway, Penelope."
Remus left the library and walked towards the castle doors, head still filled with dark thoughts.
He decided to go for the walk he had intended to earlier, but instead of a conventional trek around the grounds, Remus headed straight for the Forbidden Forest.
As soon as he was encased in the trees his pace increased to a rapid stride. He knew these trails better than anyone, even Hagrid. He had roamed them once a month for seven years, and he still remembered them. He quickened his pace again to a jog.
The wind hitting his face felt good. The roots, stones, and branches in the path that he had to leap over and dodge focused and centered him. Whenever his thoughts gained on him he increased his speed until he was running at full tilt. The trees and scenery whipped past him. Deer and squirrels panicked and bolted away from him. Anything larger in the forest recognized that an apex predator was in their midst and gave him a wide berth.
These woods were the only place where Remus had ever been able to escape from himself. It was the only place where he ever gave over entirely to the wolf. Perhaps if he ran fast and far enough, he could outrun his thoughts. Perhaps he could outrun his emotions. Perhaps he could outrun the past that haunted him no matter where he went.
Perhaps if he ran far enough, he could outrun himself.
...
The sun was sinking low in the sky when Mairead and Roger ambled lazily back up to the castle. Roger had put his arm around Mairead back at the entrance to the school grounds, where she had cringed against his side at the sight of the dementors flanking the gates. To Mairead's delight, he kept it there, and now she leaned affectionately against his side as they walked.
Roger leaned down and dropped another kiss onto her lips, and Mairead walked on her toes for a few steps to reach him as she enthusiastically kissed him back. He pulled back and smiled down at her.
"I want to see you again," he said.
Mairead felt that if Roger let go of her she would simply go floating away into space.
"I'd like that," she said shyly.
Roger chuckled at her bashfulness and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Mairead reached her free hand up and clasped the hand that was dangling over her shoulder.
She rested her head on his shoulder as they neared the steps back up to the castle.
"There you are," a voice cut through Mairead's haze of happiness.
She raised her head and looked around to see Professor Lupin striding towards them. Mairead stopped short at the look of him.
He was coming from the direction of the Forbidden Forest. He looked neatly put together as always, but his hair was disheveled and his face slightly flushed. But that wasn't what stopped Mairead in her tracks. Something in his eyes set off all kinds of alarms in her head. She had no idea what she was seeing churning in his stormy eyes, but she was certain that something was terribly wrong.
"Professor Lupin," she began.
"I've been looking for you," he said shortly. He looked highly displeased, that much was clear.
Mairead felt the terrible sinking feeling that comes from suspecting you have forgotten something.
"Oh, no, were we supposed to meet today?" she asked anxiously.
He stopped and looked at Mairead and Roger. Was it just her, or did he look like he disapproved of their public embrace?
"I thought you worked in the library on Saturdays," he said, a slight tone of irritation and accusation evident to Mairead's ears. "Where were you?"
Mairead blinked rapidly. "I - not every Saturday," she said, feeling uncertain about why he was unhappy with her. "It's a rotating schedule."
Lupin looked deflated. "Oh," he simply said.
"I'm sorry," Mairead apologized again. She shot an apologetic glance at Roger and detached herself from his side. "Were we supposed to meet there?"
"No, I - I just..." Lupin hesitated. "Never mind."
"Did you need help with something in the library?" Mairead asked, more confused than ever.
"No, no..." Lupin said vaguely. "It was my mistake. Forgive me for interrupting your afternoon. Please excuse me."
He started up the steps. Mairead felt horrible. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she had never seen Professor Lupin look so distraught before. Instinct told her to stay quiet and let him leave. The current circumstances were tumultuous and childhood experience had taught her that rapidly shifting environments were unsafe. Lupin was obviously upset, and men who were upset were dangerous. She could feel her legs beginning to tremble with nervousness.
This is probably for the best, she tried to reassure herself. You were getting too close to him anyway. You really should put some distance between the two of you if you're to get this ridiculous crush under control.
Mairead pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down hard. Then, screwing up all of her courage, she ignored her instincts and cried out, "Professor Lupin!"
He turned and looked at her, and she saw that he had fixed his face into a mild expression. It was as if he had slammed a door in Mairead's face. His eyes were suddenly guarded and wary and his facial expression unreadable. He had completely shut himself off from her.
She felt a chill run through her. She hated the knowledge that he could hide from her in plain sight like this.
"I - I work in the library tomorrow," she said meekly. "I'll be there from ten to four. If that would be helpful."
He smiled blandly at her, but there was nothing there. There was no anger or resentment, to be sure, but there was also none of his warmth, none of the friendly familiarity Mairead had grown used to, no hints of the personality and characteristics of the man Mairead loved so desperately.
"Thank you, Mairead," he said in a carefully neutral tone. "Have a good evening. Roger," he added, nodding at the boy at Mairead's side.
With that, he turned and walked back into the castle.
Mairead stood frozen in her spot after he left. Then, as if he had no idea of the cataclysmic shift in Professor Lupin's personality that he had just witnessed, Roger spoke up beside her.
"I'm starving. Dinner?"
...
Remus skipped dinner that night. He headed straight for his quarters where he spent a restless night tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
He rose early the next morning and stood in the shower for longer than he usually did, setting the water to a cold temperature that eventually roused him.
He felt more himself when he emerged from his quarters and went down to the Great Hall. He still felt abjectly miserable and bereft, but he recognized the need to pull himself together and was able to do so.
After a quick breakfast he headed for his office, determined to bury himself in a mountain of work to distract himself from the thoughts he had given too much space to the day before.
He turned the corner and slowed as he approached his office. Something had been left on the ground in front of his office door. As he drew nearer he saw that it was a basket covered by a cloth.
A note was laying atop the cloth, and he bent down to pick it up. Unfolding the note, he read:
You seemed sad yesterday, so today I brought you biscuits.
If I was right, then I hope they make you feel better.
If I was wrong, then, well, you still have biscuits.
-May
Remus bent down and lifted up the basket. He could both feel and smell that the biscuits were still warm. He lifted up one corner of the cloth and deeply inhaled the delectable aroma from what looked to be a half-dozen different varieties of biscuits.
Remus shifted the basket to one hand and checked his watch. It was just after ten. She must have dropped these off on her way to the library.
Without another thought, Remus turned on his heel and headed back down the stairs to the first floor.
Remus quietly entered the library and looked around. It looked to be a fairly quiet morning, with only a few fifth and seventh year students studying.
He looked over at the help desk and saw Mairead there, poring over a book. He could see her lips moving and one of her fingers tracing the words she read. A smile tugged irresistibly at his mouth and he took his first deep breath since the day before as the knot that had been in his chest since the previous afternoon finally released.
"Well, of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world," he said quietly when he got nearer.
Mairead looked up and her face broke into a huge smile.
"Professor Lupin!" she said happily. Worry and anxiety overtook her features and her smile faltered. "How are you?" she asked, dark green eyes anxiously searching his own.
"I'm very well, thanks," Remus said, smiling reassuringly at her. "You see, someone brought me about a thousand biscuits." He held up the basket that was dangling from one hand.
A blush quickly suffused Mairead's face. "Oh, those," she said.
"Yes, those," Remus teased.
Mairead was looking anywhere but at him. She looked highly uncomfortable. Finally she murmured, "I was worried about you. You seemed really sad."
"I was sad," Remus confirmed, then frowned to himself. He hadn't been planning on telling her that. "But I'm not anymore," he added quickly.
Mairead glanced hopefully up at him and gave him a tiny smile. "Good," she whispered.
"I hope you're hungry," Remus said briskly, setting the basket down on her desk.
Mairead frowned. "But they're for you," she argued.
Hoping to overcome her shyness, Remus teased her by throwing her own words from earlier that year back at her. "Mairead, there are enough biscuits here for like, six people. You have to share them with me."
She laughed breathlessly, then pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down indecisively. Finally, she smiled bashfully and said, "Wait a mo'."
She ducked down behind the desk and Remus could hear her opening and closing drawers as she searched for something. She emerged a few moments later, shaking her head impatiently to get her messy curls out of her face and holding two mugs.
"If we're having biscuits, we've got to have tea," she said.
Remus grinned. "It's a deal," he said.
By the time Remus left the library, an hour had passed. They had talked and laughed, eaten far too many biscuits, and drunk tea until they were full to bursting. Mairead had told him how she had made an early morning trip to Hogsmeade to get the biscuits for him, and Remus had surprised himself by regaling Mairead with stories about his own experiences (details redacted, of course) of sneaking into the village with his friends when they were schoolboys.
As he walked back to his office, he frowned to himself as it occurred to him that, for some reason, it wasn't as painful to think about his past as it normally was when he was sharing it with her.
A nagging voice in the back of his mind warned him that he was getting too close to Mairead. Letting completely alone the fact that he spent more time with her than he did with anyone else, with increasing frequency lately he had found himself telling her things that he had never set out to tell her - not just of pranks he had played or rules he had broken, but intimate things, like what his mother had been like and his insecurities about being a teacher. Somehow in his efforts to gain her trust and get past her defenses she had slipped past his, as well. He realized that he felt safe around Mairead, and, paradoxically, the thought scared the hell out of him. Remus realized that, for the first time in his life he was at real risk of accidentally letting it slip that he was a werewolf. He couldn't imagine himself doing that, but then, six months ago he never would have imagined himself telling another person half the things he had casually mentioned to Mairead.
Logically he knew he had to distance himself from her. And yet, when it came right down to it, he simply didn't want to.
He shook himself internally. There was nothing he could do about the present situation, he decided. Mairead needed him. He was her best - and likely only - chance at passing her Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. and it would be irresponsible to cut off her access to him just because her disarming sweetness made him feel exposed.
Feeling relieved that that was resolved, Remus settled down in his office to work. He wasn't being selfish spending time with Mairead, he told himself firmly; he was being a good teacher.
He decided not to look too closely at the fact that, in his moment of deepest distress, he had instinctively sought out the company of his green-eyed, freckled student with the sweet laugh. Nor did he choose to reckon with the realization that the unhappiness and loneliness that had threatened to undo him the day before had been entirely overpowered by one hour in the company of shy, clever, and utterly captivating Mairead O'Keefe.
...
Author's Note: Poor angsty Remus is angsty! (Seriously, though, are any Remus stories angst-free? Would it be a Remus fic if there weren't angst?)
Song for this Chapter: "Here Today," by Paul McCartney (Remus)