AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I really need to apologise. I never meant to let you hang in a void like I did.
But they made me suffer at work for being away all August, and I haven't had an hour to breathe since I returned.
Besides that we moved house, my laptop was buried on the bottom of all those crates and boxes, and university starts on the 1st of October and I am virtually unprepared (… tremble …).
Still, I guess I am back in my tracks now and promise to keep up my usual rhythm of updates (at least) once a week.
Thank you for waiting so patiently.
Enjoy!
14. DESPERATE MEASSURES
Dumbledore propped his chin onto his folded hands and took a good look at the two boys sitting at the other side of the wide oak desk.
Draco Malfoy's hair was badly singed, and his left hand had the size of a bludger. He cradled it against his chest and when he tried to move his fingers they wiggled like fat worms trying to crawl into a watermelon. The other chair was occupied by Ron Weasley, at least Dumbledore assumed that under all that hair and beard Ron was hiding.
"Well." The Headmaster suppressed a sigh. "Would one of you care to explain what exactly happened?"
"He challenged me to a duel!" exclaimed Ron, his voice somewhat muffled by his beard.
"Only after he sneaked into Slytherin." Draco raked a hand through his hair and winced when it came away black and smelling of sod. "He got no business there!"
"They were conducting secret Death Eaters meetings." Ron rose from the chair. "He plans to deliver Hogwarts to You-Know-Who!"
Dumbledore sat back and frowned. Neither Ron nor Draco were exactly model students, and their teachers were well aware of the animosity that had developed since their first day at school. Petty rivalry about points, house cups and girls were to be expected, but this?
"Is Mr. Weasley right?" he asked solemnly and dared Draco to lie to him. "Are you and your fellow Slytherins involved in some kind of secret society?"
Draco avoided the Headmaster's stern gaze. The old wizard could look right into your very heart, his father had always warned him, and Draco knew it was true.
"Yes," he admitted.
"See?" Ron triumphed and flicked back his coat of hair. "I was right! He is a dark wizard!"
"We are just meeting and discussing things without you Gryffindors!" Draco hissed. "What is so dark about that?"
"You are a Death Eater!" Ron shouted back. "Why don't we check his arm, Headmaster? Let's see it, Malfoy!"
Dumbledore came around the desk and laid a hand onto Ron's furry shoulder. "That is a serious accusation, Mr. Weasley. What lets you think Mr. Malfoy is a Death Eater?"
"He … he gets letters from Ben Olsen!" Ron huffed. "And we know who that is, don't we?"
"Mr. Olsen is my guardian, appointed by my father's will." Draco grit his teeth. "And you got no proof he joined the Death Eaters."
"The man tried to kill Professor Snape and Professor Hunter!"
On Dumbledore's forehead a new crease formed. Nobody had informed the students how Snape had got hurt so badly by Olsen's poisoned wand that only Harry Potter had been able to remove the snake venom by using Parseltongue. But the grapevine at Hogwarts was a magical one and grew at lightning speed. How much did the students really know about what had happened a year ago in London?
"And …" Ron's voice rose dramatically. "It is a well known fact that all dark wizards came out of Slytherin!"
The Headmaster could not suppress a sigh now. "Mr. Weasley, this is not true at …" Then he changed his mind. "You go and see Madame Pomfrey. Ask her to deliver you of that fur, and spend a night at the hospital. The Barbartus curse is not to be underestimated. Your tongue will feel furry for a week, I am afraid."
Ron shot Draco a dirty look and left the Headmaster's office, secretly relieved that the old wizard had let him get away without any further punishment.
Draco's mouth set in a defiant line when the door closed.
"Well, Mr. Malfoy, what am I to do with you?" Dumbledore asked softly and sat down again.
"He had no business in Slytherin!" Draco repeated. "He and his scarred friend keep spying on me since our first year!"
"Enlighten me, Draco, why you and Weasley don't get along. If it is because of that pure-blood nonsense? Because if it is, let me tell you that the Weasley bloodline is as pure as any."
Draco frowned. "If you say so. But he's Gryffindor. And so is Potter. No self-respecting Slytherin would ever befriend one of those do-gooders! People get sorted into Slytherin for a reason, my father used to say. It is our home, and the only place where we should seek friends."
The Headmaster paled and closed his eyes wearily. He stayed silent for so long that Draco watched the old wizard's face in sudden alarm. Was he ill? Merlin, he was over a hundred years old, wasn't he?
"I heard that before," Dumbledore said slowly, and his eyes wandered from the student to the headmasters in their frames. "In fact I heard that one time too often, I am afraid. This must end."
The boy moved to the edge of his seat, sensing a way out. "May I go now?" he asked casually.
Dumbledore just waved him out of the office absent minded. "This must end," he repeated softly to himself. "This must end."
* * *
When Sirius entered the grounds of Winterstorm Manor, he intended to sneak in on tiptoes - something he had not done for months. But as soon as he reached the entrance stairs, he spotted his wife, curled into a tight ball in the corner of the door, her head covered with her arms.
Her back shook with desperate sobs, and the stifled noise broke Sirius' heart.
"Baby," he kneeled next to her on the floor and gently touched her shoulder. "What happened? Is something wrong with Rose?"
Claire winced when he touched her and only relaxed slowly when she heard his voice. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying so hard, and her voice hitched with sobs she could not suppress any longer.
"Ben Olsen was here."
Sirius paled. The mere thought that Olsen, one of Voldemort's wizards in command, had entered his house and threatened his wife in his absence made him cringe with guilt.
"What did he want?" He could barely breath with sudden fury. "Did he touch you? Did he lay a hand on you?"
Claire shook her head. "No. He was perfectly polite and well mannered. That made him even scarier."
"But, Honey," Sirius picked her up effortlessly and set her on his lap, "what did he want from you?"
"Looks like Voldemort remembered that I was still to receive the Dark Mark."
The memory of the night at the cemetery when only Sirius' self-sacrifice had saved her from being taken into the Death Eaters' custody brought fresh tears into Claire's eyes. Back then her pregnancy had convinced Voldemort, that the Dark Mark could wait. Nobody wanted to risk the life of a pureblood baby of ancient bloodlines.
"They'll wait for a few more weeks, until Rose is weaned."
"So Olsen came to scare you."
She shrugged and blew her nose. "I guess so. And to remind me that he knows I am a squib."
Sirius grit his teeth. "I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance."
He held her tight, until she'd calmed. Then he rose from the stairs and set her on his feet. The crown of her head barely reached his shoulder. How bravely she coped with all the threats and dangers of standing on the side of the light - while he himself slowly despaired …
"And now, that I told you what bothers me, it is your turn."
Claire blinked at him out of clear grey eyes, deep pools of cool where he just wanted to sink and forget.
"I am … only tired. It was a hard day."
She raised an eyebrow and blocked his way into the house. "Sirius?"
Defeated by the worry in her voice he inclined his head. "What?"
"Your feet are bleeding."
She gently pushed him down on the stairs again and cupped his feet with both hands to mend the cuts and blisters. "You did not try to run yourself into oblivion like this for … oh, it must be months. So don't you dare to tell me nothing is wrong."
Sirius sighed. Sometimes he wished she couldn't look through him like that. But then again she was the only person he never needed to deceive. With her he could be himself and she'd always accept him.
"I can't go on like this, Claire," he whispered.
Wordlessly she started to knead his shoulders. He'd talk in his own time, she knew him too well.
"We brought Remus home today."
"Is he alright?" Claire had spoken to Severus and Laurel only shortly, still confused and shocked about Olsen's unexpected visit.
"He is barely alive. Thin as a ghost. Feverish. And he is in pain." Sirius rubbed his face with both hands. "But it is going to get worse in the next weeks."
"The doctors said he'd recover fast."
"He'll suffer. He'll be without a notion of who he is and what happened to him. And there is nothing I can do to help him."
"Sirius …" She gently stroked his brow.
His eyes were dark with pain when he took her hand and kissed the palm, a gesture that always opened her heart. "Remus is my friend. I am supposed to be there for him. But with the Fidelis charm … How am I supposed to give him support or advice?"
Claire stroked his hair, and wished she knew the answer. But the truth was that Sirius was right. The charm had saved his life but severed him from all friends.
"And there is something else," he admitted softly. "Rose."
Claire's head jerked up. "Rose?"
Sirius stared into a void. "She … I got the impression she recognises you, your scent, your face. She smiles at you when you pick her up." His voice was raw with emotion. "She'll never recognise me. She'll grow up without any memory of me being there for her. It is as if I never existed."
"Oh Darling." She pulled him closer. "I am so sorry. I never thought about the consequences of the Fidelis charm for a child so small."
"You know how I grew up. I always wanted my children to be sure of my love. One day she'll look back and she won't find me in her past."
Fair hair fell over his face like a silky shower when Claire drew his head to her shoulder to comfort him. Her heart drummed a steady calming rhythm and slowly the sharp stab of pain dulled.
"Sirius?"
"Hm?"
"Since you are a writer, why don't you do just that?"
He raised his head and frowned. "Write?"
"Write a book for Rose. Tell her how you fell right now. Tell her that you did not miss a day of her life yet and intend to stay with her as long as she needs you." Claire smiled.
"A book for Rose." He let the thought sink in. "You are such a clever woman, Mrs. Black."
"I know," Claire beamed at him and brushed a quick kiss onto his lips. "That's why I married you."
* * *
Dr Jung had been right about the surprising speed of Remus' recovery, Serene thought with wonder, when the patient insisted on sitting outside on the bench by the backdoor on the third day. Still he moved like an old man, still he was far too thin, but the light had returned to his eyes.
She sat with him for a while, doing nothing but being glad it was spring, raising her face to the sun. Remus breathed in contentedly and dozed of after a while.
Serene smiled. His face was so familiar now. Who'd have thought that she'd have somebody someday who's every feature she knew by heart? Without thinking she raised a hand to trace his bottom lip, and only after her finger had touched the soft skin, she became aware of what she was doing.
Trembling she pulled her hand back. She'd give him all the time he needed to get his memories back. Dr Jung had advised her not to force anything on Remus, neither emotions nor facts. Let his brain decide if and when it wanted to reconstruct his former self. She understood the necessity of that, but Merlin, it was hard!
Dumbledore had visited twice already to teach Remus a technique that should help him to find the way back in his own pace. And she'd not interfere with it out of the petty desire to touch him ...
To distract herself she rose silently and went back into the house to conjure some tea.
When he heard the back door softly close, Remus opened his eyes. He'd not slept at all, and Serene's behaviour confused him more every hour. He was pretty sure she'd been in his bed when he gained consciousness the first time. But never since. She was sweet, friendly, gentle but she never touched him unless it was to dress his wound or feel his temperature. And still he knew somehow that her touch would be familiar. And somewhere deep in the dark pit that was his memory nowadays, he knew she'd once turned from him in fear ...
Before he could come to a conclusion, the garden door opened and a tall wizard in black robes stepped in.
His angular features resembled those of a bird of prey, and for a long moment he just stood there, his dark glance not missing a detail.
"I am Severus Snape," he said, his voice much more pleasant than his harsh exterior. "How are you today, Lupin?"
Remus studied him and then took time to clear his throat.
"Snape? Why do I get the feeling I should apologise to you?" His eyes misted over in confusion. "Did Lupin … I mean … did I hurt you?"
Snape sighed. He'd always appreciated his werewolf colleague's knowledge and dry humour, and found it rather disturbing to see him like this.
"Do you remember anything about me?" he asked gently.
Remus thought about it. The black-clothed man belonged to Hogwarts, at least that was what Serene had told him. He started to walk mentally through his own brain and opened doors - just like Dumbledore had taught him the day before. And yes …
"You brew stuff," he mumbled. "Disgusting stuff. Are you some kind of cook?"
A broad grin split the severe face of the Potions master. "You might say so."
Companionably he took a seat next to Lupin and let his gaze wander over the small garden.
"Foxglove over there," he pointed out. "Basil. And Prussian bluebells."
Remus smiled. "It is lovely here, isn't it? Although ..."
Snape let him think.
"I got the feeling I should live in some kind of stone building. With turrets. And great halls."
His visitor nodded. "You did, before you … fell sick."
"Where?" Remus' fingers dug into Snape's arm. "Tell me where that place is."
"I can't." The voice stayed cool even when the eyes betrayed sympathy. "I won't. You'll have to find your memories yourself."
Remus sighed. "That's what Serene tells me, what everybody tells me. Do you have any idea what it means when you wake up into nothingness? With no past at all?"
"No regrets." Snape's voice was raw with sudden envy. "To walk around without the terrible burden, the eternal guilt ..."
Suddenly Remus' hand reached out and pulled up the sleeve of Snape's robe. He frowned when he saw the Dark Mark. "A snake slithering though a skull," he said slowly. "I remember that."
Snape grit his teeth and braced for what was to come. But Remus' words were without the disdain he'd expected.
The other wizard scrutinised the Potions master's face, and nodded, as if he'd found the answer to a question there. "The mark," he said, "got nothing to do with you anymore. I think I remember that as well."
Suddenly his face distorted and his breath hitched.
Snape frowned. "Lupin?"
Remus slid off the bench, clutching his arms, whimpering softly.
The Potions master kneeled by his side, but Serene was faster. Dropping the tea-tray she carried, she cradled Remus' head in her lap.
"A seizure," she explained shortly. "We must get him upstairs."
Remus' fingernails dug deep into the skin of his arm and tried to slice it off. His lean body shook so hard it took Snape some effort to levitate it.
Later that evening Snape reported to Laurel, how surprisingly calm Serene dealt with the situation. "She's grown with the challenge," he concluded. "I always thought she was quite self-centred and vain, but she really cares about Lupin."
Taking the patient to bed had no influence on his condition. Soon blood from numerous wounds stained the linen, until Serene so no other way but conjure a pair of magical mittens to cover Remus' hands and prevent him from skinning himself.
Snape was taken aback with the sheer agony in Remus' face. He'd known that the Wolfsbane potion he used to brew for his colleague every month, took away most of the pain of the transformation. But he'd seen the actual process and the pain seemed almost unbearable.
When Dumbledore knocked softly at the bedroom door, the Potions master gratefully let him take his place.
"What's wrong, Laurel?"
Serene sat down on the couch next to her friend. Remus had calmed a bit and Dumbledore had offered to sit with him, which gave her a bit time for her visitor. Snape had left to fetch more herbs from the glasshouses at Hogwarts, while Laurel and Jonah waited in the cottage for his return..
Laurel sighed, and with growing sorrow Serene noticed the tears in her eyes.
"I really don't want to bother you with my problems," she said. "You got enough to worry about with Remus so ill and everything else."
"Oh rubbish!" Impatiently Serene waved the objection away. "Let it out. What has happened? Is Severus giving you the cold shoulder again?"
Blushing, Laurel shook her head.
"It is because of Jonah."
"Jonah?" Instinctively Serene's eyes searched for the little boy. At the moment he sat suspiciously quiet next to the fireplace and played wand-waving with a thin stick. "Is he ill?"
"Ben Olsen contacted Claire again two days ago." Laurel took a deep shuddering breath. "He is pressing at her for financial support. Looks like he stepped right into Lucius Malfoy's tracks. He might try to finish what Lucius and Peter Pettigrew started."
"You mean, he is going to try and steal Jonah from you to complete the recovery potion for his Master?" The red-haired witch stood up and looked out of the window blindly. She felt as if a sudden cloud had darkened the sky.
"Jonah is one in a million. The circumstances of his life are as close to those of Harry Potter as it gets. Since they can't get Harry, they might try and get Jonah back."
Serene's hands clamped around the windowsill so hard it was a miracle it did not break. Fate really moved in circles, and again she was back on square one.
She took care to relax every muscle and calm her face before she turned around.
"I don't know if it is any consolation to you, but I had a vision about Jonah's future a few days ago, when I stumbled over him in the attic." She frowned. "At least I think the wizard I saw was Jonah."
"You saw him, grown up?" Laurel grabbed her friend's hand and squeezed it hard. "How did he look? Was he happy? Married? Healthy?"
"Hold it, hold it." Serene smiled under the assault of questions fueled by love. "It was only a glimpse. He looked good, very handsome. Thirty, maybe thirty two. And he read a story to some children."
"Children." Laurel exhaled slowly. "He'll have children of his own!"
"Three of them as far I could see." She patted Laurel's back while the other woman dissolved in helpless tears. "Don't worry. We won't let anything happen to him."
Had Laurel looked up at this very moment she'd have seen the green eyes of her friend turn to cold fire. "Nobody will lay hands on Jonah," Serene vowed quietly. "Not Voldemort, not Pettigrew. And neither will Ben Olsen."
After a while, when Laurel's tears had tried, Serene went upstairs again to check on Remus. "He is asleep," smiled Dumbledore when he ran into her on the stairs. "He's recovering fast, don't you think so? He gained weight."
She nodded. "He starts to remember bits and pieces. But these seizure! The cramps, the pain."
"You knew what to expect, Serene." The old wizard gently patted he arm. "You must not fear. He'll get by."
Dumbledore went into the living room and found Severus, Laurel and Jonah on the floor, playing with a log of wood, Snape had transfigured into a miniature centaur.
For a moment the Headmaster's face got soft. Who'd have assumed that the misanthropic Potions master would make such a fine partner and father?
The his glance fell on the mantle over the fireplace, and his forehead creased.
"What is this?"
Laurel looked up and shrugged. "Jonah discovered it in the depths of the attic. Apparently it is supposed to be a candle holder."
"Of outstanding ugliness." Severus rose from the floor and took a good look.
"Oh, I agree." Laurel laughed. "But our son thinks it is pretty."
"Magic!" Jonah tried to feed his centaur with cookie crumbs and the tiny creature scowled at him.
"Magic." Dumbledore pushed back his glasses and studied the thing with renewed interest. "It bears a certain resemblance to Hogwarts, don't you think?"
Laurel picked up the candleholder again. Her eyes narrowed. "Well, this could be the castle, you are right in that. There's the inner courtyard, and these pointy extensions might be towers. But …"
"Hogwarts only got four towers, as we know. And this thing got five points." Severus stubbed a finger at the tower in the middle. "Although the school certainly could do with another tower to provide more space for the Potions lab."
The Headmaster smiled absently and put the candleholder back in it's place. But before he left, he asked Serene if he could borrow it, and she gave it to him as a present, glad to be rid of it.
* * *
Sirius stood by the wooden fence that surrounded the narrow stretch of garden. Tiny bluebells nodded in the soft breeze. The wizard he'd know for almost all of his life kneeled in the middle of this sea of petals and gently brushed his hands over the flowers. Remus' face glowed with pure enchantment.
When the wind turned he suddenly froze. His nostrils widened and he turned so swiftly Sirius could not stifle a grin of relief. Recovering or not, his old friend still had the keen senses of a werewolf.
Lupin got to his feet and raked his hand through the grey-streaked hair in a familiar gesture of awkwardness.
The wizard by the fence did not smile. Remus frowned and tried to evoke a name, a connection.
"I should know you, shouldn't I?" he asked softly.
Sirius sighed.
"You … ride a Muggle motorbike," blurted Remus out. "Damn it! How can I know that but not your name?"
"It's Sirius Black, and yes, I once had a motorbike." Sirius jumped the fence and held out a hand. "Moony."
Remus paled, shocked by the white-hot stroke of memory that flashed through his brain when he heard the nick-name.
"Sirius." A slow smile lit up his face. "I remember. Where is Jamie? Didn't you bring him?"
Sirius winced. Merlin, how was he supposed to tell his friend that the bright eyed boy he remembered had been dead for almost fifteen years by now? He took a coward's way out.
"James could not come," he explained with a suddenly dry throat. "And shouldn't you … I don't know … be in bed or something?"
"I took off." His friend gave him a sheepish grin. "I am not tired. Honestly, I feel like running through the forest, wild." He frowned. "Did I do that, before I lost my mind?"
"You did not lose your mind!" Serene scolded gently, when she stepped out of the cottage's backdoor. "You only lost your memory, and the doctors say it will return soon."
She fought the instinct not to let Remus out of her sight as long as he was so vulnerable. But the pain in Sirius' eyes appealed to her heart. After all Sirius risked his life visiting his friend, with the Aurors still looking for him.
"Why don't you go for a walk with your friend Sirius? He knows the forest very well," she suggested, her eyes warning the visitor to not give Remus any hints on who or what he was. "And maybe he'd like to stay for dinner?"
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You cooking?" he drawled. "You would not want to make little Rosie an orphan, would you?"
"Don't press your luck, Black." Serene scowled at him. "Now go away, you two!"
* * *
"I want to leave school," Draco complained, drowning a mug of butterbeer. "I won't suffer any longer how they treat me!"
The wizard who shared his small table in the shady back of the Three Broomsticks, looked up from the piece of parchment held by a bottle, a glass and a wand.
Rosmerta had made it her business to catch a quick glimpse when she served the drinks, but had only seen crude black lines.
"Might be a map of Hogwarts, what with the four towers" she thought now as she stood behind the counter and polished a row of glasses by waving her wand in circles. "Won't do any harm to let Dumbledore know that Malfoy brat is giving away maps of the castle to strangers.
While the witch decided to stop by Madam Pomfrey that very evening, Ben Olsen tried to make sense of Draco's sketch.
"So what is this?" he sighed and pointed out a protruding shape.
"Slytherin tower," the boy shrugged.
"But as far as I remember that tower is not twice as tall as any other." Ben cursed his luck. Hadn't he spent more than two years in that dreadful place himself? Why had he never taken the time to produce an accurate map? But then again, there were too many details only older students like Malfoy would know. Ancient lines of defence. Booby traps. Long forgotten charms.
And Malfoy was a great source of information about his hated school. Oh, he expected great things of Lucius' son. There was a fire burning in the boy's soul, something angry, bitter and vile. But his design lacked nonetheless.
"Let's start over," he suggested amiably. "Let's go through this step by step. The magical re-enforcement. The shields. And the loopholes."
Draco smirked. "In a minute, Ben. Tell me about Laeticia first." He tried hard to appear sophisticated and detached. Like a man of the world who had elegant, beautiful countesses lusting after him every day. But his stomach was in a tight knot that dissolved with pure relief, when Ben fished a letter out of his wide sleeves.
The older wizard tangled the parchment in front of Draco's nose.
"First the map."
When he saw the stubborn glint in the boy's eyes, he dropped all friendly pretence. "The Dark Lord does not suffer fools gladly! And a wizard who is jumping at a witch's beck and call, is nothing more than a fool. Once you joined and received the Mark, you should be aware of where your loyalties lie!"
Draco blushed and adverted his eyes. "There is nothing wrong with giving a woman the illusion she can rule you," he drawled with nonchalance. "As long as she lets you in her bed." His eyes narrowed when he looked at his guardian. "I assume you play this game yourself with Miss Kennedy."
Olsen's pale eyes froze into hard ice. "Serene is not Laeticia."
"Well, you may be right. After all Laeticia won't let a Werewolf put his paws onto her naked skin, will she?"
A hiss of rage, a wave of wand, and Draco slammed backwards into the wall so hard a thin line of blood trickled down his chin. Olsen stood by the table, clutching the wand so hard it threatened to break any moment. Draco was imperative for the Master's plan. But right now Olsen would have gladly strangled his white neck.
Not enough that Serene had made no effort to return to him, his spies had reported that she shared a cottage with Lupin now. He could only hold on to the hope that Serene knew what she was doing. They belonged together. He'd known it from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her.
They were alike.
Black flames.
For a full minute he let the boy hang in the air, before he released him without gentleness.
"You want to live to be a Death Eater, you better pick your insults carefully," he snarled. "Now get you noble ass on that chair and make sense of that scribble you call a map."
* * *
As the moon waned, Remus' condition bettered as expected. He was back to his old weight now, and when Dr. Jung visited he tested his patients reflexes and found them flawless. Nevertheless he warned Serene that with the waxing cycle of the moon, the seizures would happen more often and get worse until the first transformation.
"But I am optimistic," he calmed her. "He's in remarkably good shape. He seems quite content, and his memory returns faster than I assumed."
On the evening of the new moon Serene and Remus took a walk along the lake. Remus had not entered Hogwarts yet, but liked to come to the lakeside and stare at the towers that used to be his home.
This time, diverted by confusing emotions and insecurities, he turned away from the castle, and looked at Serene. He had to ask. He had to know.
"Was Remus Lupin in love with you?"
"Honey, you are Remus."
"I know." He stared across the quiet lake while the setting sun washed over his face in bright golden strokes. "I just can't remember being him." He crouched down and picked up some flat stones. With a quick flick of his wrist he made them skip across the water surface. "Was he?"
Serene swallowed. "Was he what?"
"In love with you."
"He told me so." Her voice trembled.
"And did you mind?"
"At first I did not believe him. But he … you were persistent."
He sighed in relief. "Good."
"Good?" Serene's eyes betrayed her confusion. "Why?"
Remus turned to face her and raised a hand to touch her cheek. "Because I think I am in love with you."
She jerked back and he immediately dropped his hand.
"You don't look too pleased."
"I …" Serene blushed. "It is just that these words used to mean so much to you. And never anything to me."
He would not let her retreat, and suddenly she found herself in his embrace, with his shoulder inviting her to rest her head.
"I don't recall I talked of love very often," Remus said softly and started to stroke the back of her neck.." At least not to anybody but you."
"I told you how my parents left me in that hospital and never came back for me, didn't I?" Serene's voice was muffled by the collar of his robe. "You may not remember, but I told you this Christmas at your parents. I waited for them, but they just did not come."
When Remus looked down, he saw glittering tears hang between her lashes like dew. Worried he'd hurt her somehow, he kissed the crown of her head. "You must not …"
"No. I must. You need to know, to understand." She took a deep trembling breath. "I was very young then, barely fourteen. They just could not cope with me being what I am - a witch, a clairvoyant. For me it was obvious. They did not love me because there is nothing about me that is loveable."
"Oh Sally." His voice made an endearment out of the plain name of her childhood.
"For a year or so I only wanted to die. Then the pain crawled deep into my soul and stayed there like a festering wound." She searched for a handkerchief and blew her nose. "Ah, I don't think I ever cried as much in my life as I did lately."
"Because of me." His eyes darkened.
"Because of many things." Serene took his hand and led him onto a narrow path that led back to the cottage through flowering hawthorn rows. "When I was eighteen, they had no choice but release me from the hospital. I'd learned to hide the symptoms of what they called my "condition", and I was desperate to make up for what I'd missed. Somebody somewhere had to love me, hadn't they?" Suddenly furious about her naivety she kicked a branch off the path. "It took me years to understand that "I love you" usually translates as "I want to fuck you"."
She almost stumbled when Remus grabbed her shoulders and jerked her around. His face was hard with anger. "I have no need for a translator. I love you. That's it."
His lips crushed hers in a mixture of frustration and desire.
With a sigh Serene surrendered.
They stumbled over the door step, impatiently kicked the door shut and tore at each other's clothes. But then, after the first rush of headless passion, the pace got softer, slower. For Remus everything was new and familiar at the same time. Her scent. The way his heart beat like a drum, when she traced the pale scar on his shoulder. The way her skin tasted when he brushed it with his lips.
He drew her on top so her soft hair fell over his face like a fiery cascade.
Serene kissed him, covered his forehead, his nose, the corners of his mouth with tiny butterfly kisses. Then she allowed herself to abandon all self-control, to follow his lead and trust him completely.
It felt right, Remus thought, intoxicated by her scent and the soft moans, when he slowly entered her.
His eyes held her captured while he started to move, dared her to look away now.
"Don't be afraid of me," he murmured against her mouth, taking in her ragged breath. "Please, don't be afraid of me."
"Remy ..." A picture shot through Serene's mind. Remus' hand turning into a ... paw. Could he remember her confusion, her shock? But she had not been afraid, not even then.
"We'll never hurt each other." It was a vow, a charm, a plea, and her voice broke into a sob, when his body answered it.
Remus felt his blood race through his body. A multitude of pictures, sounds, scents. "At a pond," he whispered hoarsely. "We made love at a pond, you and I."
When he finally came in her, the intimacy of it made her cry out.
A repeated loud knock against the cottage's door woke Serene from pleasant dreams. Remus' keen senses had made him aware of somebody's presence outdoors minutes ago, but the scent was familiar, and so he'd taken his time and waited, stroking Serene's hair idly.
"What …." She rubbed her eyes and tried to see the clock in the dim light of the fire. It had to be dinner time.
The door flew open, and Sirius stepped into the room impatiently.
"Don't ask me what I am doing here," he warned. "I got no time to explain."
"I remember." Remus sat up and stared at the tall wizard in the door. "You are … were … a prisoner of Azkaban."
"I found a way out," Sirius' heart ached. He could not even tell his friend that he'd helped him escape the second time.
Serene cleared her throat and pulled the blanket up to her neck. "Sirius, as nice it is of you to visit …"
The wizard's expression was unreadable. "Sorry to disturb your … with whatever it is you are doing."
Remus muttered something under his breath, but Serene laid a hand on his arm to calm him. She had known Sirius for a while by now and although they argued most of the time when he was not on the run, she now recognised the alert in his eyes.
"What is wrong?"
"Dumbledore wants us at Hogwarts within the hour. He calls in all staff, no exceptions." Sirius breathed in deeply. "Something is bound to happen. Something serious."
* * *
All the teachers, ghosts and house staff met in the Headmaster's office ten minutes before dinner. The short time span assigned to the meeting made it clear that they could expect neither a discussion nor a long explanation. And they did not get any.
"I called you all back to Hogwarts, now that we shall be facing difficult times. Maybe the most difficult ever."
Dumbledore cleared his throat and drew a dark glance at the former Headmasters and Headmistresses who crowded in one of the gilded frames. "I'd be glad if you stood with me in this. Still, this is your private decision. But I will follow this through on my own, if need be."
Severus raised an eyebrow. Dumbledore hardly ever made insinuations like this. And his behaviour in the last months had been more than eccentric.
"Albus? Won't you tell us what you are going to do, before you make us consider whether we want to join you?"
The Headmaster smirked self-consciously and rubbed his beard. "I'd rather say this once and for all, in front of the school assembly. It concerns the student body as much as the staff after all."
"Oh dear, he isn't going to close the school, is he?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.
Minerva McGonagall slowly shook her head. She was not certain about Albus' intention, but knowing him so well, she suspected something awful. She'd watched him study dusty parchment scrolls, argue with Headmasters from the 12th century, and again and again stir the pensive in the backroom of his study.
But the ugly candleholder Laurel's boy had found in the attic had obviously let him make up his mind.
Dumbledore took a deep breath and straightened his back.
"Let's go."
They entered the Great Hall and the chatter hushed immediately without any effort of the prefects. Hundreds of young faces gazed up to the High table expectantly.
The Headmaster looked at them with a mixture of concern and fierce determination.
"I have an announcement to make," he said with a steady voice that betrayed nothing of the doubts he'd gone through to reach the decision he was going to proclaim.
"An announcement that may shatter all you believed in until now. I can only trust you know me well enough that I act out of necessity and consideration."
A murmur rose between the table. Even the ghosts were whispering. Laurel could see several of the house-elves eavesdropping in the back of the Great Hall, Dobby among them.
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"Coming into force this very moment, I proclaim the dissolution of the Houses of Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor."
Then all hell broke loose in the Great Hall.