Sunday, May 21, 1978
"I don't see why you even bother getting out of bed the day before the full moon," Sirius said, lounging on his bed in only a pair of pants. He tilted his head and frowned as Remus struggled to his feet, then rolled onto his side and adjusted the pillow under his head.
"Because I have to at least try to do something productive today." Each word cost him an effort, but he took a deep breath and steadied himself against the bed post, refusing to give in to his overwhelming desire to climb back under the covers.
Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You're mad. It's Sunday. What could you possibly have to do?"
Remus didn't reply as he pulled a jumper over his head. He tugged and tugged, but the damn thing was stuck. Grumbling under his breath, he groped along the edge of his bed and sat down so he could focus all of his attention on the jumper issue.
"I should do homework, and at least a bit of studying, and I should see how Bubbles is doing with Defense," he said through the itchy wool of his jumper.
"Well, are you planning on doing all of that with the sleeve of your jumper stuck on your head?"
Fuck. Even with his vision obscured by the jumper, he could tell Sirius had on that patronizing grin. Sod you, Padfoot.
"If I were you, I'd say sod all of that and go back to bed," Sirius said when Remus emerged from the jumper, scowling.
"Yes, well, you're not me." Remus stood, gulping air as the room swam and came back into focus. "Good thing, too. You'd be absolutely insufferable as a werewolf."
Sirius laughed, and the sound grated on Remus's nerves. "Rubbish. I'd be the sexiest werewolf that ever werewolfed."
Remus sighed. "I'm going down to the common room." He picked up his bag and crossed the room, each step sending a faint stab of pain through his head, and left before Sirius could further butcher the English language. Werewolf is not a verb, for fuck's sake, and has no business being used as one.
When he reached the common room, the others were already seated in their usual spots. He attempted a smile that was no more than a tightening of his lips, then sat down and took out his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. Within five minutes his eyelids began to droop. Stay awake, you lazy fucker.
"I see it took Moony about five minutes to fall asleep. Stubborn wanker should have just stayed in bed like I told him to."
Remus started awake to see Sirius standing beside his chair, grinning down at him.
"Sod off, Padfoot," he muttered, rubbing his eyes and turning his attention back to his studying.
"You know, there's no trophy for forcing yourself to stay awake when you're half dead," Sirius said, a taunting note in his voice that made Remus want to throw the textbook at him.
"I know there's no bloody trophy." He sighed and tried holding the book up higher so it would block his face in case his eyes closed again, but that was no good — his achy arms got too tired. He settled for turning sideways in his chair so he was facing away from his friends.
He made it through several pages before he awoke to the sound of his book tumbling to the floor. Peter had the sense to hand it back to him without comment, although the sympathetic expression on his face was almost as infuriating. Heaving a sigh, Remus flipped through until he found the right page and refocused once again.
"Hi," Seven said. Remus looked up from the book and blinked several times until his vision cleared. "I don't suppose you'd want to take a nap with me?"
The suggestion was so tempting that he felt his body sag with relief. No. Today can't be a wasted day. There's too much to do and not enough time to do it.
"No time," Remus grunted. His voice softened as he watched her face crease with concern. "You can come sit with me, though, if you like."
He shifted over with difficulty and she squeezed in beside him. There was a soft, warm pressure on his skin as she kissed his cheek, and then she plucked the book from his hands and held it out in front of him.
"I could stand to study a bit, too," she murmured. "And this way I won't be distracted watching Peter and James play chess. And if your eyes happen to close for a few seconds, nobody will notice and bother you to go to bed." She pressed her lips against his cheek again. "Even though I do think you could benefit from a nap."
"No nap." He began to shake his head, but thought better of it as the motion made his head rattle. "But thanks, Seven."
The morning passed in a blur of fitful dozing punctuated by brief periods of half-awake studying. When the rest of them prepared to go down to lunch, he stood up and stretched his cramped limbs, resolving to go to the library. The idea of food sent a wave of nausea through his body, and he had a vague notion that he would hunker down in his favorite deserted aisle and nap without anyone noticing.
"I don't want to tell you how to live your life," James began when Remus slowed in front of the library.
"Then don't," Remus snapped.
"I'm just saying, you'd feel better if you ate something."
Lily put a hand on his arm. "He's right."
"And the bloody library certainly isn't going to make you feel better," Sirius added.
Remus sighed and pasted a smile onto his face. "Enjoy your lunch. I'll be in the library." He strode through the door before any of them could argue further.
The hushed atmosphere and smell of books soothed his frazzled nerves, and some of the tension left his limbs as he retreated to the back corner of the library and sank down onto the floor in his favorite aisle by the window. Here he was hidden from view, and he didn't have to hide behind a book as he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He fell asleep before he had time to feel guilty about being unproductive.
When he awoke his neck was sore from the less than ideal sleeping position, and the pain in his head had increased to a steady pounding. Groaning, he hoisted himself upright and made his way out of the library. He was almost at the door when he heard someone say his name.
"Remus," Bubbles hissed again, waving from a nearby table covered in books and flashcards. He beckoned for Remus to join him, and he did so, ignoring the queasiness that got worse every time he moved.
"Hi, Bubbles," he croaked. "How's the studying?"
His face lit up. "Good. The flashcards are helping. I kept getting distracted in the common room, so I made myself come down here instead, and that's helping, too." He held out his stack of flashcards. "Want to quiz me a bit?"
Remus's hand shook as he took the flashcards, or perhaps that was just his vision — he couldn't tell. When he read the first card, he had to squint before the letters arranged themselves into coherent words.
"Are you alright?" Bubbles asked, frowning.
"Fine." He held up the first flashcard and decided that his hand was in fact shaking.
"You sure?" Bubbles raised his eyebrows. "You sort of look like you're about to die. You don't have to quiz me if you'd rather go to the hospital wing or take a nap—"
"I'm fine," he repeated, clenching his jaw and raising the flash card higher. "What's Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration, then?"
Bubbles watched him for a moment, as though assessing whether Remus was likely to drop dead before he had time to work his way through the stack of flashcards, then rattled off the correct answer. At least, Remus thought it was correct. He couldn't ask him to repeat it, or it would look like he hadn't been listening, and that would only prolong the activity. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to focus on matching Bubbles's words to the answer on the back of the flashcard.
"I think you should go take a nap."
Remus blinked at Bubbles, then looked down and saw he was holding a flashcard that he had no memory of reading.
"You sort of dozed off, I think," Bubbles said with an apologetic smile. "You've been holding up that same card for a while. On the bright side, I'm not likely to forget the first exception to Gamp's Law."
Remus sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, it's been a long day."
Bubbles glanced at his watch and grinned. "It's only 12:30."
"I know." He straightened in his chair and forced his eyes open wider. "Okay, I'm awake now. Should I go to the next flashcard, then?"
Bubbles shook his head. "It's alright. I can manage on my own for a bit. Go and have a nap." He smirked and added, "Invite Seven."
Remus wanted to argue, but he couldn't summon the energy, so he dragged himself to his feet and trudged back to the common room. He made it all the way to the portrait hole before he realized the flashcard was still clutched in his hand.
The others were in the middle of a heated game of Exploding Snap when Remus slunk into the common room to collapse into his chair.
"We brought you some lunch," Mary said, looking up from her cards to flash him an encouraging smile.
"Thanks, but I'm not hungry." He reached for his book and flipped through, searching for his page before he realized he had no idea where he had left off.
Sirius threw down a card, then jerked backward as it hit the table and sparked. "I thought you might say that. I left a chocolate bar on your chair in case you'd rather eat that." He frowned and added, "Fuck. You might be sitting on it."
"I don't suppose you want us to deal you in, either?" James asked.
Remus shook his head and dug out the slightly melted chocolate bar that was wedged underneath him.
"Moony, I may have mentioned this before, but there's no trophy for depriving yourself of sleep."
Remus glared at Sirius. "Padfoot, if you tell me there's no fucking trophy one more time, I'm throwing this chocolate bar at you. I know there is no trophy. Reminding me of this fact is not remotely helpful."
He glowered at him for another moment, daring him to laugh, before attempting to return to his textbook. He made it through most of a page before his eyelids drooped and the words blurred. The pull of sleep was too strong to bother trying to conceal it from his friends, and he drifted off, lulled by the sound of Peter's laughter and the sharp scent of another card catching fire.
A shout followed by a high pitched peal of laughter roused Remus from his sleep; he kept his eyes shut but shifted position when a dull tingle told him his arm had gone to sleep.
"Oi! This is a shut the fuck up situation!" Sirius's voice rang out, even louder than the original disruption. "I already warned you lot to keep it down. Next person to speak above a whisper is getting hexed."
"Padfoot," Remus muttered, opening his eyes a crack and squeezing them shut again when the light sent a stab of pain through his head. "You're speaking above a whisper, you bloody hypocrite."
"Yes, well, I wouldn't have to yell if you weren't such a stubborn arsehole and would go upstairs to sleep like a normal bloody person," Sirius retorted, before raising his voice and calling, "Ukiluki, don't you even think about playing that guitar or I'll bash you over the head with it."
Remus rolled over to face the other way and flung his arm over his face. "I'm not going upstairs until it's a respectable time to go to bed, but don't you dare bash anyone over the head with a guitar."
"Don't worry, Remus, I won't let him," Lily said.
Something soft dropped over his legs, and he reached down to find she had covered him with a blanket.
"You're not the boss of me, Evans. Moony, would you at least move to the sofa if it were to become available?"
Remus didn't have to open his eyes to know that the sofa was occupied by a fourth year couple. They had spent the last month curled up together on that couch, holding hands and whispering and snogging when they thought nobody was watching. Remus was half convinced they never even went to class, because they never seemed to leave that bloody couch. The cushions are probably molded to their arses by now, he thought.
Before he could summon the energy to reply, he heard a crash and a squeal of protest.
"Clear out, you two!" Sirius said, louder than ever. "Go find a broom cupboard and give that poor sofa a break."
"Bit rich to criticize another couple for sofa misuse when we've literally shagged on that very sofa," Mary said, chuckling.
"Shh, don't tell Moony that or he'll refuse to lay there, and I've just cleared it off for him."
"Pads." Remus took a deep breath and sat up, bracing himself against the arm of the chair until his nausea subsided. "You are the loudest fucking person in the entire common room."
"Sorry about that, Moony," Sirius said cheerfully. He didn't look a bit sorry. "I've had to be quiet for so long that it's made me a bit yelly."
"I know you just said yelly to annoy me." He stood up, swaying and steadying himself against the back of the chair.
Sirius grinned. "Want a hand getting over to the sofa?"
"Not from the sort of person who uses a word like yelly," Remus said, rolling his eyes before making his way across the room. He was already sprawled out with his face pressed against the cushions when he realized he had forgotten his blanket. Before he had time to turn over, he felt a cool hand pushing his hair back from his forehead.
"It's not a proper nap without a blanket," Seven murmured, tucking the blanket around him.
He reached out and caught her hand. "Come nap with me?"
She slid in beside him and slipped her arms around him. "I was hoping you'd ask. I'm knackered." He relaxed into her touch as she pressed her lips to his cheek. "I'm sorry you're ill."
"It's okay. I feel a bit better now."
He didn't really – his headache had increased from a faint throbbing to a steady, stabbing pain, and it had taken so much effort to move to the sofa that he wasn't sure he would make it up the stairs to the dormitory without assistance, and he was going to miss three subjects tomorrow, and there was Sirius again, shouting at one of the first years for blowing his nose too loudly, for fuck's sake. Yet somehow despite all of this, he was more cheerful than he had been all day. If he had to feel like death, at least he was tucked under a blanket with Seven while his friends did their best to keep the common room quiet for him. He pulled Seven closer and slipped into a doze, trying not to think about what lay in store for him tomorrow.
Wednesday, May 24, 1978
Lily gazed down at the parchment as the cramped writing stared back at her, a silent accusation. The notes sat unanswered, piling up so that soon he would need to turn the parchment over or give up. Her fingers itched to reply, and her hand jerked toward the ink, but she forced it down by her side and contented herself with rereading Severus's attempts to rekindle their friendship.
Once you're ready to stop pandering to your stupid bloody boyfriend, stop by to help me, because Pomfrey has doubled her usual request for Draught of Peace, and my wrist is already aching from all that chopping.
Any progress on your aconite project? Your lycanthropic friend seems to be as healthy as possible for someone like him, so I'm guessing you've either perfected your concentration, or you haven't had time to try it yet.
I got bored and tried boiling down some aconite. I tested it on a mandrake (in case you weren't aware, potioneers often test potions on mandrakes because they mimic human reactions) with mixed results. On the bright side, the bloody thing stopped yelling, but that's because the aconite killed it, so I wouldn't slip any into Lupin's firewhisky yet, unless you're tired of him showing you up in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Then at the very bottom of the parchment, in a scrawl so tiny she had to bend close to the parchment to decipher it, he had written a final note, devoid of his usual snark and somehow containing more earnestness and regret than three words had any right to convey: I miss you.
She stared at the last three words until they started to lose their meaning, the letters blurring together and burning themselves into her mind when she closed her eyes. The raw vulnerability of the confession surprised her, because Severus was all sharp edges and scorn and supercilious glares. It must have taken all he had to reveal that softer, wounded side of himself. She experienced a pang of sadness as she imagined him agonizing over the parchment, scribbling the words and retreating before he could change his mind. If this was the way he felt, if he missed her enough to admit it, had she made the wrong choice? She had spent ages convincing herself he didn't care, that he wasn't worth a second thought, but now that those three words were nagging her from that piece of yellowed parchment, she wondered if she had been wrong.
An acrid smell and the sound of rapid boiling interrupted her thoughts, and she scrambled to lower the heat and salvage the potion. When she had regained control and the potion was poured into neat little vials, her eyes returned to Severus's notes. She stood there, tracing his words and teetering on the edge of scrawling a reply. Her quill was perched in her hand, hovering over the parchment as a reply bounced around in her head. She longed for the easy familiarity of their conversations, the sarcastic back and forth and the unacknowledged shared history. The end of the quill touched the parchment, leaving a dot of ink behind, but then the image of James filled her head and she yanked her hand away, awash with guilt and shame. Her heart pounding as though James had caught her doing something far worse than writing Severus a note, she shoved the quill into her bag and tucked the note back into its hiding place before hurrying out of the room. As her feet echoed in the deserted corridor, she took deep breaths, wondering why she couldn't get those three stupid words out of her head.
When she returned to the common room, everyone was gathered in the usual spots, studying or, in Sirius's case, distracting the studiers. She frowned, her eyes scanning the seats again, but James was missing.
"Is James still at practice, then?" she asked, then realized her mistake when she saw Seven seated beside Remus.
"No, he went upstairs already," Seven said, a note of apprehension in her voice. "I suppose he's just tired. It was kind of a tough practice."
There was something in the set of Seven's mouth and the tension as she gripped her book that set Lily on edge.
"Is he alright?"
Seven hesitated, fiddling with the end of her braid.
"He did have that sort of panicked Prongs look," Sirius said from his spot on the floor. Mary lay beside him, and there was an open textbook and a box of Bertie Bott's in front of them. It appeared Sirius was meant to be quizzing Mary, but the beans scattered on the floor around her spoke to how productive this endeavor was. "I was going to try to talk to him, but I think this is more of a job for your skillset, Evans."
"Oh, shut up," she said, holding up a hand before he could elucidate on which set of skills he meant. "Alright, I'll go and see."
She hurried up the stairs, then paused outside the dormitory with her hand on the doorknob. An irrational stab of guilt twisted her stomach as she thought about the notes from Severus she had fretted over. She hadn't done anything; she hadn't even written back, yet she worried James would somehow sense her indecision. Even considering responding seemed like a betrayal, especially if James was struggling tonight, which seemed likely, based on the ominous thump of a Quaffle against the ceiling she could hear through the closed door. Taking a deep breath, she forced the thoughts of Severus to the back of her mind and stepped through the door, prepared for whatever she would find.
"I'm fine," he said before she even sat down beside him on the bed. "I dunno what Seven or Padfoot or anyone said, but I'm fine."
"Alright," she said, smiling and resting her hand on his leg. "You're fine."
"I'm fine," he repeated. "We're actually in really good shape for the match, and the team is really excited and morale is high, and the weather is looking excellent for Saturday." He sent the Quaffle soaring into the air, then watched it descend and caught it with a satisfying smack. "So it's all fine."
"Is it all fine, then?"
He attempted a grin, but then his face crumpled and the smile turned to an expression of desperation and misery.
"No, because what if it's not all fine? What if we're not as ready as I think we are, and it all goes to hell and we lose the last match of my entire bloody Quidditch career? And everyone's so stressed about exams and everything else going on – we all bloody need this." He looked down at the Quaffle in his hand and frowned. "I mean, alright, I suppose Hufflepuff needs it too, but we really need it. The team has worked so bloody hard, and I've put – fuck, I've put everything into this. We've got to win."
He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, then looked up at her and sighed.
"And I can't let the team know I'm panicking, because then it'll look like I don't have faith in them, and I do! We look bloody excellent, honestly. Bubbles and Farley and I are practically reading each other's minds. So fucking cohesive. It's beautiful – I can't wait for you to see it. And Seven's been training even harder than I have. She's a bloody marvel, that girl. And the Beaters are really solid, and Sunshine's been stopping nearly everything, and Kath's looking great, too. If I dropped dead right now, I know she could take my place and we'd be fine." He twirled the Quaffle between his fingers.
She raised her eyebrows. "So what are you worried about?"
His shoulders jerked up into a shrug. "Dunno. I'm not worried, exactly. Just…" He raked a hand through his hair and bit his lip. "It's a lot of pressure."
"But you handle pressure better than anyone I've ever met."
He blinked at her from behind his glasses, his hazel eyes wide beneath those impossibly long eyelashes. No man should have eyelashes that long. Mine never look that good, even with mascara. It's not bloody fair.
"What if I just can't handle it this time? What if I crack, and everyone thinks, 'Oh, what a pity James Potter couldn't rise to the occasion. How's he ever going to fight the Death Eaters if he can't even beat fucking Hufflepuff?'" His fingers dug into the Quaffle, gripping the rubber surface until his fingertips turned white.
"James." She plucked the Quaffle from his grip and set it down on the bed beside him, then took his hand. "You're going to beat Hufflepuff. You've been working way too hard not to. I've never seen anyone train so hard. It's a bit disgusting, really."
He grinned. "Hard work is not disgusting, Evs."
"It is when it means waking up before sunrise and flying for three hours in driving rain. Anyway, even if you don't win the match, it doesn't matter. At the risk of inflating your ego, you're the best Quidditch player Hogwarts has had in ages–"
James lifted his head and raised his eyebrows. "What about Gideon Prewett?"
She shook her head. "You're loads better. And you're a brilliant Captain. What you've done with the team is really impressive."
"You're just saying that," James said, his smile widening.
"No I'm not. Didn't I just tell you I was afraid of inflating your ego?" She lay down beside him and reached over to adjust his glasses. "I love you. It's going to be great. And this probably isn't helpful, but you're really bloody adorable when you're panicking like this."
He rolled over to face her and slid his arm around her waist. "That is very helpful, actually. I love when you tell me how adorable I am. Keep feeding my ego, Evans – go on."
She laughed softly and ran her fingers through his hair. "You also have the most beautiful eyelashes I've ever seen."
"Do I?" He pulled her close and kissed her, and the tension left his body as he relaxed into her touch. "You're too good to me, Evans."
"No, I'm not." A tiny frisson of guilt ran through her, but she shoved the thought aside. This was the time for heaps of praise and soft kisses and admiring James's eyelashes; worrying about her conflicting feelings about Severus should be relegated to that little workroom that smelled of lavender and burnt potion. "You deserve a bit of flattery once in a while, even if it is bad for your ego. Besides, you always talk me round when I'm panicking, and I panic way more than you do."
She trailed a finger along his jaw, enjoying the smile that turned up the corners of his lips at her words. His old t-shirt gaped at the neck, exposing the sharp jut of his collarbone, and his glasses were crooked again, and his damp hair was even more tousled than usual. She drank in the sight of him, trying to fix the moment in her memory forever, because he really was too adorable for his own good, and the fact that he knew it made him even more adorable.
"Are you staring at me because you can't believe how devastatingly handsome I am?"
She laughed. "I overdid it on the compliments, didn't I?"
Rather than answer, he kissed her again. His arms tightened around her, and she let him drive away her lingering worries as she breathed in the scent of his shampoo and stole another look at those bloody perfect eyelashes.