Wishes

By: Airelle Vilka

Chapter 4 Butterbeer

A/N: Alica belongs to herself. Same goes for Tracy.

Airelle yawned and wrapped her shawl tighter around her neck. Even with the crisp winter wind, the village of Hogsmeade looked beautiful.

It is a shame Snape did not come, she thought, brushing snow off a hedge playfully. She had asked the Potions professor to accompany her to Hogsmeade with the students, but he'd refused. Of course, he had not changed, and somewhere, Airelle knew she really hadn't expected him to. If anything, the time they'd spent apart only seemed to have reinforced his esoteric and introvert-type personality. In any case, her friend's absence was not detrimental to Airelle's joy as she walked through the main street of the village. It was so lovely and lively. And to think she had missed so many years of stepping on this very ground, laughing and talking. Carefree for eternity.

She sighed. The word 'carefree' did not exist for her anymore; it had ceased to occupy a place in her brain on Graduation Night. But she wished, oh, she only wished there'd be a night when the feeling would come back-- a soaring, haunting grace that would lift her sky-high without aid of the fastest broomstick. Ah, now that was pure happiness…

Amid the sea of smiling faces and student Hogwarts robes, she suddenly spotted one that looked slightly less than cheerful – Remus Lupin. Something in Airelle's head snapped on and told her to go and speak with him. So what if he'd been a Gryffindor? Snape was not here to scoff, and it was his own fault anyway. Grinning at her own decidedly odd logic, Airelle waded through the crowd, and found herself standing in front of The Three Broomsticks, where the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was musing over a piece of parchment.

"Hello, err… Remus," she said hesitantly, not knowing how to address him properly. Lupin, after all, had been one of James Potter's best friends, and she was so used to calling him by his last name. They had not talked together since breakfast nearly a week ago, and Airelle was not certain how he'd treat her outside the walls of the school. Perhaps, did he still harbor resentment towards her because of Snape?

"Ah, Airelle," he said mildly, coughing and (Airelle noticed) folding the parchment. "How are you finding your first week?"

"Fine, great," she replied, leaning on the door of the Three Broomsticks dejectedly and staring into space. "The students are… fantastic. Your Gryffindors, I must say…" She paused. "…are better than I expected."

Lupin was smiling oddly now. "Well, they do tend to show their talents unexpectedly."

Airelle shrugged. "Yes, of course, all students do… but… oh, perhaps it is just because I am not used to this." She tried to laugh. "I mean, when you're an Auror and worry about Death Eaters on every corner, you hardly think about--"

"Is there something bothering you?" he asked, and the question was so unexpected that Airelle stared at him. Of course, something was bothering her. Snape, for one. Voldemort. Her past, present, and --though she tried not to think about it-- her future…

"No, nothing bothers me," she replied, pushing some unruly white hair behind her ears. "Why do you ask?"

Lupin's eyes seemed to twinkle in a way that reminded her, disturbingly, of Dumbledore. "Well, if you need anything to talk about, the entire staff, I am sure, shall be ready to help."

What are you doing, Lupin? she thought. Why are you being so nice to me? Do you feel sorry for me because of the things I've seen? The flashbacks I get?

"Of course," Airelle answered, crossing her arms. "I am very lucky to have survived my work and come here for a more, err… stable existence."

Lupin smiled again, as if he wanted to continue on the subject, but instead said, "I understand Professor Flitwick and I shall be joining you for a combined session next week on the differences between Illusions, Charms, and Curses?"

Airelle had forgotten about that. Great, that was all she needed-- to have Flitwick giggling, Lupin smiling like he knew something she did not, and Snape narrowing his dark eyes at her closeness with the Gryffindors in between classes. Maybe life in the Ministry wasn't so bad compared to this, she thought with a mental laugh. She'd almost forgotten, in the hectic time away from Hogwarts, just how exhausting school could be.

She was about to say something else to Lupin, (probably a farewell), but her words were prevented by a sudden opening of the door she was leaning on, and she nearly fell over. Catching herself, Airelle stared at the two figures who had appeared in the doorway, leaning on each other. They were both fourth-year Hogwarts students; one was extremely tall, the other short, and the result looked very comical, indeed.

"Oops -- sorry, Profess'r-- hic! -- didn' see you there," said the tall one, waving lazily, bangs fluttering on her forehead. Her companion, a black-haired Asian girl, smiled at Airelle, then at her friend, and then shook her head knowingly.

"Miss Patts," said Lupin in a voice that was not harsh at all, "how many butterbeers did Miss Tylon here have?"

The tall girl replied before her friend could. "Only seven, Profess'r Loooopin --hic!-- or was it sev'nteen? Can't recall…"

Airelle tried to keep a straight face, and failed miserably. It had only been a week, and she already knew Tracy Patts and Alica Tylon pretty well. Protégés to Fred and George Weasley in their pranks, the two Ravenclaws were infamous for their skill in outrunning the bad-tempered Filch and for their hours spent in detention. Quite good students, actually, but horribly prone to mischief. For an instant, Airelle smiled, wondering what chaos would occur if those two actually found themselves in the tiny room behind the fireplace in the Potions classroom. After all, one of the best things (abhorred members of the staff had told Airelle) that Tracy and Alica were known for was their unrivaled proficiency in Love Potions and the mayhem they caused. On a memorable occasion in their second year, Airelle knew, the two conspired to make Professor Snape fall in love with one of Professor Sprout's mandrakes. All she could say… thank heavens Snape could recognize Love Potions on smell.

"Back inside," said Airelle, motioning with her hands, "before Professor McGonagall sees you. Both of you-- For shame! Five points from Ravenclaw!" She felt rather bad for doing that, especially since the girls were in her own house… but how would she keep a 'teacher-face' in front of Lupin if she caught a student drunk on butterbeers and did not do anything about it?

"But-- hic!" said Alica, "it was a bet!"

"Bet or not," replied Airelle harshly, "you are not going back to Hogwarts by yourself, that is certain. Now, let us go inside, and we can sit the whole evening there… or at least until you feel well enough to walk without using Miss Patts as a cane."

"I can walk," said Alica, and let go. Airelle suddenly had a strange urge to yell 'Timber!'

"See?" said Alica, after her friend had caught her once again. "I am perfectly-- hic!-- fine."

"Right," answered Airelle, and let the pair trudge back into The Three Broomsticks ahead of her. Perhaps I'm up for a butterbeer myself, she thought, grinning, and turned back to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"Coming, Remus?" She immediately began to regret her words. Lupin, no doubt, still remembered their dislike of each other back in their student years…

Lupin looked at her, and his lips twitched strangely. "Very well," he said, and followed her inside.

"Ah, that hits the spot, doesn't it?" asked Madame Rosmerta from behind the bar/counter of The Three Broomsticks. Airelle nodded and saluted the high-heeled witch with the remnants of her butterbeer. Instinct told the Illusions professor that right behind her, Alica Tylon was probably watching the mug like a ravenous beast. I have to talk to Rosmerta about those two, she thought, smiling, and let her eyes roam over the room. Madam Hooch was sitting not far from them, talking to a wizard and from time to time, casting an odd look at the two Ravenclaws beside Airelle and Lupin. Farther to the left were some students (who'd be acting much more reserved if it had been McGonagall in Airelle's place), a few goblins, some jolly ghosts who did not let their lack of innards stop them from drinking…

Airelle smiled again. At least no one was looking at her as if she'd just dropped out of the sky. Thank heavens no one (save for Lupin, and Rosmerta, to some extent) knew about her friendship with Snape, or just how far her Auror assignments had taken her. Airelle liked this sort of 'anonymity.' Now she could figure out why Snape never talked to people about his past, either, even if he did not need to mention the Death Eater days.

"Oi, can I get 'nother butterbeer over 'ere?" hiccupped a voice from the back, and Airelle rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She couldn't wait to see half the students with 'hangovers' on Monday morning--

The door burst open, sending a cold gust of wind at the faces of those in its path, including Airelle. The shock was so sudden that every paranoid nerve in her body jumped, and before the door had even banged off the wall, Airelle was up, wand in attack mode. Surely, Voldemort would not attempt something as bluntly idiotic as striking full out in the midst of a village full of experienced wizards. Right?

Airelle did not recognize the figure in the doorway; but, apparently, others did, and to the former Auror's great surprise, returned quickly to their conversations, their gazes avoiding the door. Airelle, though, was spotted before she (or Lupin, who had been on his feet as well) could sit back down.

"Ah," said the man in the doorway ecstatically, "just the woman I wanted to see! What skill, what grace, such movement-- could you do that again?"

Airelle glanced at Lupin as the man came nearer. Surprisingly, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor looked like he was about to have a fit of laughter, and it seemed like Alica Tylon and Tracy Patts desperately wished to sink through the floor on the spot.

"Err…" said Airelle, for lack of better words, as the man shook her hand.

"Gilderoy Lockhart," he beamed, exposing teeth so blindingly white they could have given an ogre a headache. "Daily Prophet reporter, Number One of Witch Weekly's Ten Most Charming Media Wizards, and former Hogwarts professor." He continued to shake her hand vigorously, paying no attention to either Lupin or the two girls (who looked extremely grateful).

"Err…" said Airelle again, putting away her wand with one hand and trying to disengage Lockhart's grip with the other. "How do you do?"

"We are very sad -- hic!-- I mean glad -- to see you again, Mr. Lockhart," said Alica, fighting with Tracy over yet another hot mug of butterbeer.

"Just fabulous, as always," said Lockhart to Airelle as if Alica had not existed. "So, I have heard so much about you, and as one of the Daily Prophet's greatest reporters--" (Gee, aren't we modest? thought Airelle) "—I would just be delighted to print an interview with one of the Ministry's greatest former Aurors!"

A few customers had turned their heads at that last loudly spoken comment, and Airelle was beginning to not like this Lockhart character very much. He, however, did not seem to take notice of Airelle's discomfort, but smoothed his blonde locks far back so she got a full view of the darling of Witch Weekly.

"This is glorious," said Lockhart dramatically, flopping himself into a seat opposite hers, which happened to be Tracy's (she'd gotten up to order Double Fudge Juice). The girl was just returning, and stared at the reporter murderously.

"I beg your pardon--"

"Go bother someone else, child, can't you see I'm having an important conversation?" replied Lockhart airily, not taking his blue eyes off Airelle, as if he was afraid she'd run as soon as he looked away. In truth, if Airelle could've run fast enough, she'd have done it a long time ago.

"So, what was I saying before I was so rudely interrupted?" smiled Lockhart. "Ah, yes… the interview. Shall we start from the beginning, or skip right to the part when you wished to become an Auror, so that this day would come and you'd have a chance to become famous just like I am?"

Lupin snorted into his high collar. Alica muttered something softly to the extent of, "The loony found his true calling," Tracy mumbled, "This bloke's worse than Rita Skeeter," and Airelle… well, Airelle just stared.

"Err…"

"To the beginning, then," supplied Lockhart, oblivious to the reaction of Airelle's companions. "Now, when and why did you first want to become an Auror? Was it because you felt inadequate as a witch, being Muggle-born? Or was it because you bravely wanted to battle You-Know-Who's forces? Come, you can tell me anything."

"I liked the health benefits," said Airelle, finally. Lockhart gasped and replied cheerfully, "Yes, benefits, hmm? Would you mind telling me how being an Auror has benefited you?" Either he was completely unable to detect sarcasm, or he'd only heard the word 'benefits' from that sentence.

When Airelle did not respond, the reporter scribbled something on a floating parchment and looked up. "Well, never-mind, I am sure it would be boring to the readers. So, how are you finding life as a Hogwarts professor? I was there, too, don't you know, and from what I've heard, I daresay I was the most interesting Defense Against the Dark Arts professor they'd ever staffed!"

Interesting, indeed, thought Airelle, smiling. This bloke could not defend himself against a daffodil.

Gilderoy Lockhart, apparently mistaking her smile as being directed towards him, winked and scribbled something else. "Yes, I am sure you do not doubt my skill, as your smile reveals-- thought I wouldn't notice, did you?" Another wink. "It is unfortunate that I had to leave after surviving a dreadful accident." He sighed heroically. "But, thanks to the good folk at Memory Lane, I am fixed and good as new, and now I can reach even more people to tell them my-- I mean your-- wonderful stories!"

Airelle, by this point had made up her mind to hurt the people at Memory Lane severely.

"So," continued Lockhart, whipping out a looking-glass and straightening the collar of his horrid pastel-yellow robes, "this is not about me, but you, the gracious consumer of the great wizard newspaper. And I intend--" (he sipped some butterbeer absently from Lupin's mug) "--to make your time worthwhile." Yet another mischievous blue-eyed wink flew at Airelle. She mouthed 'help' to Lupin, but he shrugged, and she did not blame him for being hesitant to get involved. Looks like she'd have to take care of this one herself. Gosh… she knew how to deal with Dark wizards, but nosy, self-obsessed reporters-- that was a whole new shindig…

"Excuse me," said an icy voice right behind Lockhart. "But I must have a word with Professor Vilka."

To be continued…