* * * * *
Less than twenty-four hours later, the newly engaged Remus Lupin closed the door of the History of Magic classroom and hoisted the packing case containing the Boggart onto his shoulder. For a moment he debated taking it back upstairs to the rooms he was now sharing with Minerva. He wasn't sure if she'd be particularly impressed at the thought of it cluttering her desk for another week though. Instead he turned the opposite way along the corridor and started down the stairs that led to his office.
The many staircases and corridors of Hogwarts could be spooky places at night, even without the presence of the castle's many ghosts. Flaming lamps and torches drew eerie flickering shadows from behind the most innocuous of objects. Footsteps echoed loudly down the empty halls and whispers that would be easily drowned out during the day now seemed to reverberate like urgent shouts. None of this appealed to Remus, who was still feeling quite shaky from his encounter with Harry. Had he done the right thing? It was one thing to be afraid of the monstrous Dementors. It was quite another to be forced to relive the murder of your parents over and over again. Remus would not wish that on the bravest of men, never mind a thirteen-year-old boy. And yet… Harry's fear of the Dementors and the weakness he perceived this to be were just as heavy a burden to bear. And the boy was showing a remarkable talent with the Patronus charm. To master such a difficult and powerful spell would most likely serve him well, both within his education and beyond it. Remus decided that as long as Harry was determined to keep trying he owed it to him to help. Minerva might disapprove but Remus knew James would have been extremely proud of the courage his son was showing.
* * * * *
Minerva was still up when he returned, looking soft and maternal in her dressing gown and pyjamas. 'Magical Mums: charms and potions to ease the symptoms of pregnancy.' lay open in her lap and she peered thoughtfully through her spectacles at what looked like a particularly complex diagram. The jewellery box and perfume bottles on her dressing table had been pushed aside to make room for a stack of similar titles, the sight of which brought a wry smile to Remus' lips. Trust Minerva to approach motherhood as some kind of in depth research project. She'd probably finish those within the week and they'd have to go up to Diagon Alley to visit Flourish & Blotts. Still, he was glad to see her getting back to her usual self.
She came to greet him as he hung up his cloak and he returned her kiss with matching affection.
"How did it go?"
"All right."
"Just all right?"
Remus shrugged. He'd been expecting her to maintain quiet disapproval, a thought that had bothered him earlier in the evening. But now that she was proving him wrong he realised that he didn't want to talk about it after all.
"Just hard to watch him suffer," he admitted, ducking his head to avoid her gaze.
Minerva said nothing but placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. Remus supposed that the prospect of being a mother herself had heightened her sensitivity to Harry's pain, much as it had his. He sighed deeply and did his best to push the unhappy thoughts aside.
Minerva seemed to somehow read his mind.
"Do you want to play a game?" she asked quietly.
Humour was exactly what Remus needed and he cocked an eyebrow suggestively.
"Darling, I thought you'd never ask!"
He slipped an arm around her waist and lowered his head to nuzzle gently against her neck.
"A board game," she said archly.
He considered this.
"Not chess."
"Trivial Pursuit?" she offered.
"Done."
Minerva beamed and led him by the hand to her extremely comfortable sofa. Once he was settled she arranged herself beside him to her satisfaction before leaning over to retrieve the game. Trivial Pursuit lived on the ledge beneath the coffee table along with several books on Quidditch and Minerva's prized collection of autographed team photos, which Remus now leafed through as he waited for her to set up the board. It took only a few minutes before they were ready to play. Minerva won the toss and moved her green miniature hat first.
"Charms and potions," she announced as her hat arrived on a turquoise square.
Remus squinted at the question card with weary eyes.
"What," he read, "are the three key ingredients of Ashwold's All-curing Panacea?"
Minerva frowned in concentration.
"Rosehip, shredded keruliss root… and Doxy venom?"
Remus grudgingly conceded the die. Minerva answered her next three questions correctly and acquired a magenta feather for her hat, which she accepted with such pride that he could not help but be reminded of Hermione Granger. The fact that his orange piece remained resolutely in the centre of the board did not help matters much. Remus was making a concerted effort not to sulk by the time his irritatingly knowledgeable partner finally had to pass. Gleefully he took his turn.
"What are the orange spaces?"
"Quidditch, I think."
"And the pink?"
"'Which Wizard?'"
"Orange, then."
He moved his piece and Minerva slid another question card from the pack.
"Which team has been suspended from the Department of Magical Games and Sports a record fourteen times?"
"How on earth should I know that?" Remus protested loudly.
"Guess then. I'll give you a clue: the Broadmoor twins."
"Oh, I don't know. The Holyhead Harpies?"
"The Falmouth Falcons."
Minerva reached for the die.
"What? There's no such team!"
"Yes there is!"
"There isn't!"
"Remus, there is. They're in the League. Now are you going to stop being a sore loser or do I have to get the book out and prove it?"
Remus shook his head and took the die gently from her hand.
"Neither. Let's go and have a bath. We can have a look at some of those new books whilst we're in there."
"But we've started the game!" she protested with such disbelief that it made him laugh.
"It's just a game. Now are you going to be a sore loser or can we go and discuss our baby instead of arguing about non-existent Quidditch Teams?"
* * * * *
Later, as Minerva slept peacefully beside him, Remus finally acknowledged the real source of his unease. Yet again the spectre of Sirius Black had returned to poison the lives of those who had once been proud to call him a friend. Severus Snape had not forgotten Remus' own friendship with Black and Remus knew that he still suspected them of some kind of sordid secret allegiance, not caring what effect his slurs had on Remus' career and life. Harry's apparently innocent question earlier that evening had prompted Remus to wonder if Snape had somehow made Harry aware of his concerns. Luckily his fears had proved unfounded.
Besides, the new security measures introduced after Halloween seemed to be working. Black hadn't managed to penetrate the castle's defences since then. Surely it couldn't be much longer before he was caught? Even the most talented animagi could not maintain their forms twenty-four hours a day and there were only so many places a man could hide. But one thing still worried Remus: the absence of the Marauder's Map.
The Map had been a childish prank, a toy intended solely for mischief making. It had been nearly six months in the making and when it was finally completed they'd prided themselves on it, congratulating each other for what they thought was a big and clever achievement. They'd never stopped to wonder what might have happened if it had fallen into the wrong hands. In those days they'd had no enemies aside from their teachers and Slimy Snivellus. The dark clouds looming on the horizon had gone unnoticed until graduation, by which time the Map had been safely confiscated and locked away.
Remus had forgotten about it completely until he'd gone looking for a Boggart. His search had led him to Filch's office and there, in its darkest corner, was the legendary Forbidden Filing Cabinet. It was one of the few treasures that had remained elusive to the Marauders but now, as a Professor, Remus had a valid excuse for being there and he had remembered about the Map. Sirius would know how to work the Map; he'd helped make it, after all. His knowledge of the castle's hidden passageways would help him to a certain extent but only the Map would warn him about the whereabouts of staff and students that might otherwise see him and summon the Dementors. Remus had immediately searched for it with the intention of securing it elsewhere, or even handing it over to Dumbledore for safekeeping.
But a thorough exploration of the drawers had failed to produce the Map.
Had Sirius somehow managed to reclaim it? Perhaps it had been thrown away: the cabinet was bursting at the seams and the Map in its disguised form looked like nothing more than a silly joke parchment. More importantly, Remus considered, should he tell Minerva? She had the authority to search Filch's entire office and she'd be able to ask him if he remembered it or if he had disposed of it years before. He debated this silently in the darkness. It was probably nothing, after all. Filch was too security conscious for Sirius to have raided his office undetected. Remus had certainly had a hard time explaining things even though he was a staff member with a legitimate need for a Boggart – a Boggart that had unfortunately taken on the form of Peeves as soon as it had sensed Filch.
In the meantime Remus had more important things to worry about. He was going to be a father and a husband. There were lots of things that they needed to plan. When were they going to marry? Where were they going to live? They would need clothes, toys and furniture before the baby arrived and they only had limited amounts of free time in which to shop. And they hadn't even started discussing names. This time last year Remus had had virtually no responsibilities save from earning just enough money to stay alive. Now he had a partner, an unborn child, colleagues and students all relying on him. He was determined not to let any of them down.
* * * * *
Harry's after class sessions continued over the next few weeks. Remus had been extremely gratified to learn that the Patronus Harry had produced that first evening had not been merely a one-off fluke. Minerva had continued to warm to the idea of this extra tuition, admitting one evening that she secretly rather admired his determination to help Harry.
Life quickly settled back into its pre-Christmas routine of classes and preparation, meals in the Great Hall and evenings marking homework. Minerva, too, had rapidly adjusted to being pregnant and now knew just as much – and possibly more – about the subject than Poppy Pomfrey. The two women would often have tea together and were fast becoming good friends.
The only person who remained a source of irritation to Minerva was Severus Snape. The story of the Firebolt had reached his ears and he did not miss an opportunity to taunt Minerva about the prospects of the Gryffindor team following their disastrous loss against Hufflepuff. He was unaware of the extra tuition Harry was receiving and was therefore convinced that they'd be seeing a repeat event if a second pitch invasion occurred. Remus, too, was doubtful that Harry's still-weak Patronus would be any match for a real Dementor. Only Minerva remained optimistic, determined not to let Snape see how much he riled her. Twice in the past week Remus had caught her polishing the Quidditch Cup with the office door open, and she spent much of her free time supervising the tests taking place on Harry's broomstick. Between the demands of her job, her pregnancy and checking over the Firebolt it soon became quite common for Remus to find her asleep at her desk, and though he gently teased her it concerned him greatly to think that she might be overdoing it.
* * * * *
January's full moon passed without ceremony. Minerva gave Remus the spare blanket from her bed to take to his office as protection against the bitter cold that seeped through the thick stone walls of the castle. The following day she brought him hot vegetable soup and wholegrain rolls despite his protestations that he should be looking after her rather than the other way around.
"I'm pregnant, not crippled," she'd reminded him dismissively.
Remus had known better than to argue.
"But," Minerva had added thoughtfully. "You could always go for a walk down to Hogsmeade. I'm sure the fresh air would do you a world of good."
She'd delivered this with a straight face but he hadn't been fooled in the slightest.
"You've run out of Ginger Newts then, I take it?"
His token gift had recently sparked off an unexpected addiction for Minerva. She'd taken quite a while to finish the first tin and claimed to have only replaced it 'because Albus is rather fond of them'. The second tin had been her undoing and Remus had since been dispatched to Hogsmeade on several occasions to replenish her supply. It had been quite entertaining watching her struggle between her desire for more biscuits and her disgust at not being able to cope without them. Lately she'd been blaming her pregnancy but he hadn't been entirely convinced.
Resigned to another trip, he'd finished his soup and stretched his stiff legs experimentally. A bit of gentle exercise was exactly what he needed, he'd decided.
That, and a mug or two of Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.
* * * * *
Less than a fortnight later the Firebolt was back on her desk.
"So?" Remus prompted. "What was wrong with it?"
Minerva sighed heavily but did not look up.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's completely fine, in fact."
"Well, that's a relief. Isn't it?"
"Not really."
"Not really? But what if it means that Black isn't trying to get to Harry after all?"
"It's hardly proof of that," Minerva said with obvious frustration. "Besides, it doesn't make sense. I was so sure that it was a trick. Who else could afford to send Harry a Firebolt? It's the fastest broom in the world, for goodness sake."
"What did Albus say?"
"Not much. Just that Harry deserved it."
"So can he have it back?"
There was no reply.
"Minerva?" he prompted gently.
"I know," she replied.
She turned away from him to run her hands along the polished ash handle of the broomstick.
"I'm just worried," she admitted at length. "What if something happened to him? After everything he's been through… I'd never forgive myself."
"But you've tested it. And surely it's been flown?"
"Yes, Xiomara gave it a quick test. Just to make sure it was genuine."
Remus laughed.
"I bet she enjoyed that."
Minerva did not return his smile. Abruptly she returned the Firebolt to her desk and began to tidy away the papers she'd been working on. Remus stopped her with a gentle hand on her forearm.
"I know how you're feeling," he said softly. "I feel the same way. It's only natural given our situation. But if none of our extremely talented faculty can find a problem then surely there isn't one to find. And Albus is right. Harry deserves something to be happy about, even if it's just a broomstick."
"It's not just a broomstick!" Minerva exclaimed indignantly.
Remus gave her a knowing smile.
"Oh, very clever. Fine. You're right. Harry can have it back tomorrow. But not until after class or he'll never be able to concentrate."
"I love it when you get all stern," Remus teased.
"I'm serious!" she protested.
"So am I. Professor McGonagall, why don't we continue this very serious conversation in your bedroom? I have one or two suggestions that I think might interest you. In a strictly professional sense, of course…"
* * * * *
The Saturday of Gryffindor's next Quidditch match arrived surprisingly quickly and as usual for a match day there was an air of barely concealed excitement rippling intangibly through the Great Hall at breakfast. Gryffindor were not yet out of the running for the Cup and Ravenclaw also had a strong team and ground to make up. The two houses not competing both had a vested interest in the outcome of the match and tensions were running high. Remus had to smile at Filius Flitwick, whose vast blue rosette almost obscured the lower part of his face. Outside the castle, daffodils featured prominently in Cynthia's carefully tended flowerbeds, as they did on the jumpers and cloaks of the Hufflepuffs. Even Minerva, who still bore pretences towards impartiality, was wearing a house scarf and, thankfully unknown to everyone except him, matching red underwear. She had yet to arrive at breakfast, having accosted Lee Jordan on the way downstairs in order to give him a serious lecture about the importance of unbiased commentary.
Remus got the impression that these lectures were a regular event; certainly Lee hadn't seemed the least bit perturbed. He knew that Minerva was worried about the privilege being taking away from Gryffindor and shared equally between all four houses, as it always had been up until recently. She was missing the point, though. The rest of the faculty found the Minerva-Lee double act so entertaining that they wouldn't dream of asking for different commentary.
Quidditch matches brought back some of Remus' fondest memories of school. James had once given him some Omnioculars as a thank you for helping him practice and they were one of the few mementos that Remus had kept. He'd found them the other day whilst sorting through his few belongings, and though they were ridiculously dated compared to the newer models, he was clutching them tightly now and hoping that they would still work. There was something very poignant about the thought of using them to watch James' son play, almost as if James himself would somehow be there too.
Once he'd finished his food, Remus joined the crowds of students streaming down the pathway that led to the Quidditch Stadium, jostling each other good-naturedly in their rush to get the best view. The tallest viewing boxes were reserved: two for the staff and the rest for the sixth and seventh years. Everyone else had to climb the rickety wooden staircases and squeeze into the lower stands that filled the gaps between the towers, craning their necks to catch sight of the action taking place above. Each house occupied one quarter of the stands, and each competed with the others to be the brightest, loudest faction. Remus could remember the smell of sawdust and resin, the eager anticipation as they'd waited for the teams to emerge. He'd been nervous enough just watching, and on several occasions had marvelled at the courage of the players themselves, who had the hopes of all their classmates resting on their shoulders.
Minerva had been a Quidditch player: a role that seemed entirely at odds with the shy, studious image she had usually presented. Even now Remus didn't quite understand why she'd enjoyed it so much. He'd certainly never been the athletic type, preferring to read or study instead. In those days he'd still believed he'd have just as much chance at a good career as anyone in his year and this thought had inspired him to work harder than most of his classmates. Hadn't Dumbledore allowed him to come to Hogwarts? Sirius, James and Peter had helped him to see his lycanthropy as an opportunity for adventure rather than a millstone around his neck. He'd been so naïve then. He'd thought that attitudes to werewolves would improve but instead they'd worsened. Dumbledore's offer of the Defence Against the Dark Arts job had been like a lifeline, pulling him away from the prejudice and cruelty of wizard London into a world where he'd found that he could be normal. And where, to his immense surprise, he could be loved.
Impulsively Remus joined the queue for the Gryffindor stands instead of following the staircase that led to the staff box. Minerva wouldn't mind; she'd be too busy warring with Lee over the magical microphone. He knew he was supposed to be impartial but just this once he wanted to experience it again: that feeling of being young and innocent and not caring what tomorrow might bring because you were too busy having fun with today. The first and second years welcomed Remus happily into their midst and very soon he was chanting "Go, Go Gryffindor!" along with the rest, watching in awe as the Gryffindor team scored goal after goal. He could see the Chasers passing the Quaffle so quickly it became a blur, and Harry circling the pitch high above, closely tailed by Cho Chang. Where was the Snitch?
"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIREBOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"
Laughter broke out in the stands, Remus included. Now that was a side of Minerva he knew very well – as much from his own schooldays as from recent weeks. Lee would be in trouble again this evening, though never so much as to receive detention or deduction of points.
On the pitch, Harry made another spectacular dive and the singing from the stands resumed. Ravenclaw were catching up now: the game could go either way and both Seekers seemed to realise this, pushing their brooms to go even faster. Remus hoped Gryffindor would win. The last thing Harry needed was further disappointment and perhaps a win would give him a stronger sense of happiness for his Patronus charm.
Suddenly he saw them out of the very corner of his eyes: three tall, dark shapes moving purposefully onto the pitch. Dementors. The cheer caught in his throat as he searched the sky above the pitch, squinting through his Omnioculars to see where Harry was. Much to his dismay the boy was shooting upwards, away from the ground and certainly high enough to do a lot more damage than a broken wrist. All around Remus the excited shouts of the crowd faded abruptly as the Dementors reached the spot almost directly below Harry. The staff box opposite was already emptying, its occupants presumably racing down the staircase towards the pitch in the hope of averting disaster.
Remus saw Harry brandish his wand and knew exactly which spell he was casting even though he couldn't hear the words. The Patronus Charm. There was no way it could make any difference from that distance, Remus thought. His heart was racing in his chest as he frantically searched his mind for a useful spell. But to his immense surprise instead of the silver mist that had accompanied Harry's best attempts at a Patronus in the classroom, a huge white stag exploded into the sky and charged downwards, sending the three Dementors tumbling into an undignified heap.
A stag.
Remus knew exactly where that had come from and he wasn't in the least bit surprised. So maybe James was watching over his son after all. Shaking with relief, he turned his back on the pitch and nudged his way through the crowds of students who were eagerly craning forward to see what was happening. He wouldn't be happy until he knew that those foul things were well away from the stadium. As he reached the rickety staircase the whistle blew and the Gryffindors erupted into a torrent of cheers and stamps: obviously Harry had got the Snitch.
Moments later he jogged onto the pitch just as the players and Madam Hooch touched safely down. Further away he could see a familiar figure in emerald green towering over the fallen Dementors. Minerva, he realised with sudden alarm. What on earth is she doing? She certainly wasn't safe that close to them, even if they were feeling a little dazed. He quickened his pace and drew out his wand, ready to shout out to her, to warn her away, ready to cast his own Patronus Charm if any of them so much as lifted a finger from the ground on which they lay.
Only when he reached her did he finally realise that there was no cause for concern. One blonde head and one dark one had already emerged from the tangle of black cloth, and by the look of it there was still at least one other boy trapped.
"Get out of there at once!" Minerva was shouting angrily as she tucked her wand back into her robes. "Come on, show your faces!"
No, she definitely wouldn't be in need of his help. With a wry smile Remus turned away and went in search of Harry.
* * * * *
Once the students were safely settled in their houses, the staff relaxed in their usual post-Quidditch-match way: with a lively party in the staff room. Up until recently the Three Broomsticks had been their chosen venue, but under current circumstances it had been tacitly agreed - or at least, Minerva had decided - that having so many staff away from the castle at the same time was very definitely not a good idea. Instead, the faded armchairs were pushed back and music conjured magically from the walls. In deference to the Gryffindor win and Minerva's presence the streamers and banners were a vivid crimson, and one table bore drinks of a more alcoholic variety than the tea and coffee usually found here, most of them supplied by Cynthia Sprout. To that end, several of the faculty were rather… merry. Filius Flitwick was already conducting an imaginary orchestra from on top of a sideboard and by the looks of it Aratus Hooch would also be having a distinctly pleasurable evening if his wife managed to find her way back to the village before she passed out.
Minerva and Remus sat quietly in one corner, content to watch rather than join in. This was quite usual for Minerva; less so for Remus, who could normally be persuaded to join in the dancing, particularly if there were free drinks involved. But he'd definitely had enough excitement already today. He slowly sipped his butterbeer, marvelling again at how different this year was from the last, when Quidditch matches had been the last thing on his mind and he'd spent most of his energy trying to keep his head down and eke out a quiet existence. Now the heat radiating from the open fire was making his face pleasantly warm but also having the less desirable effect of warming his butterbeer. There was no sign of Snape and Remus was beginning to wonder if this was an admission of guilt. He nudged Minerva gently.
"You don't think he put them up to it, do you?"
"Hmmm?" she murmured sleepily.
Remus was trying to keep his voice as low as possible but the clatter of plates and the raucous music were making it very difficult for him to hear her.
"Severus," he said, a little more loudly. "That Dementor prank at the match today. Do you think he might have put the idea into their heads?"
Minerva mulled the idea over.
"No," she said decidedly. "He'd never do something that reprehensible."
"Are you sure?"
She sighed heavily and set her glass down on a nearby table.
"Yes, I'm sure. Remus, let's not sit here and talk about Snape."
Minerva gathered her robes and stood, waving aside Albus' rather weak protestations that nobody could leave until they'd tried his special Romanian Overproof Firewhisky, last year's Christmas gift from the Weasleys.
"Where are you going?"
"To bed. I should be keeping an eye – or an ear, rather – on the students anyway."
Remus shrugged.
"Then I'll join you."
He wasn't least bit bothered about leaving the party – there was one after just about every match, after all, and anyway he was supposed to be behaving a bit more like a responsible parent these days. He'd not had a chance to talk to Minerva all day and he'd been meaning to ask her about… well, it had slipped his mind now but he'd probably remember once they got away from the racket of the staff room. Something about Harry, he was sure.
Minerva passed him his cloak.
"I've got something I want to show you, anyway," she called over the merriment.
* * * * *
Up in her rooms, though, the noise of the Gryffindor party above was almost as loud. Remus slumped irritably on the sofa, choosing to forget that his own friends had probably inflicted just as much misery on their Head of House during their own school days. His mind had gone completely blank.
"So what did you want to show me?" he asked Minerva, who had locked the door firmly and slipped off her outer robe before joining him on the sofa. She was wearing a smart dark green v-neck jumper over her blouse and she quickly removed it, un-tucking the blouse and loosening the fastening of her skirt so that she could expose her stomach to the crisp evening air. Remus watched bemusedly, not quite sure where this was going.
"If you're about to tell me we're having twins then you'd better let me have some of Dumbledore's whisky first," he quipped.
She ignored him and fished her wand out from her discarded robe, lightly resting its tip against her bare skin. Her face was still glowing from the excitement of the match and the earlier chill of the wind blowing briskly through the stadium. She paused for a brief moment to focus her thoughts and then tightly gripped her wand.
"Obstetrius aurialis!"
And then he heard it: soft but distinct, the fluttering heartbeat of his unborn daughter. Instinctively he reached for Minerva's hand, squeezing it gently as he listened to what was quite possibly the most incredible thing he'd ever heard in his life. Pride welled up within him at this life that they'd created between them: pride that their love could be strong enough to bring forth something so innocent and tiny.
The seconds ticked past unnoticed for almost ten minutes. Finally Minerva lifted her wand away and the charm was ended. Remus pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Poppy helped me practise it this morning," she said quietly. "I wanted to show you myself."
He buried his face in her neck.
"Thank you for saying 'yes'," he murmured.
He felt her hands gently stoke his head.
"Thank you for asking."
She disentangled herself from him after they'd shared a few soft kisses, and disappeared into the bathroom to wash and change.
Remus shed his clothing in contemplative silence. He barely noticed when the bathroom door opened and Minerva reappeared. She pulled on her dressing gown and tucked her long hair neatly into a net.
"I'll go and see to that lot" - she gestured to the ceiling – "and then we can get to bed."
A few minutes later he heard the din from upstairs suddenly diminish as Minerva kindly but firmly insisted that the Gryffindors tidied up and went to bed. It reminded him of his own school days, though the Head of House in his time had not been nearly attractive as Minerva McGonagall. He extinguished all but one of the lamps and climbed into her bed, snuggling gratefully into the Always-Warm magical sheets.
When she finally returned he remembered what it was he wanted to talk to her about.
"Harry said something strange the other day."
"Really?"
She frowned critically at the mirror and removed the hairnet, shaking her hair gently loose.
"Yes, he said he liked Butterbeer."
Minerva gave him a bemused look.
"Most of our students like Butterbeer, Remus," she pointed out, sliding out of her dressing gown and hanging it neatly back behind the door.
"Well, yes, Professor. I am aware of that, believe it or not. But when has Harry ever had the chance to try it? He's not allowed into Hogsmeade and I doubt Molly Weasley would let even Arthur have any in the Burrow…"
He trailed off, his concerns momentarily overridden by the desire to focus fully on his lover as she stripped off her pyjamas. He didn't think he'd ever tire of watching her: watching her and knowing he was the only one to ever be privileged in this way.
He cleared his throat.
"Don't take this the wrong way but I think you're putting on weight."
"Am I?"
She turned sideways and studied her reflection in the mirror on the far wall. Remus could see a definite roundness in her belly that hadn't been there a month or so ago. It hadn't been so noticeable when she'd been lying on her back.
"It's all those Ginger Newts you've been eating," he decided. "How many tins is it now? Eight? Nine?"
Minerva turned away from the mirror and frowned at him in mock anger.
"That's your fault! I'd never even heard of them until you bought me that tin!"
She waved her wand briefly and the last lamp flickered out, then Remus heard the rustle of the sheets being pulled back as she joined him in bed. He welcomed her into his embrace and rubbed her stomach affectionately as he cuddled her close.
"Maybe it's the baby as well," he conceded.
"Also your fault," she teased, twisting slightly in his arms to plant a lingering kiss on his mouth. He leaned in hungrily, welcoming her apparent desire to celebrate the Gryffindor victory in a rather less appropriate manner than that chosen by her students.
"Well, don't worry," he murmured huskily. "I'll still love you. Even when you get really fat."
As intended, this provoked an indignant gasp from Minerva.
"What makes you think I'll still want you to love me?" she demanded.
He shifted his body, rolling her over until his hips rested on top of hers.
"Oh, I think you will."
"Really? And why, exactly, do you think that?"
Her tone conveyed the same frostiness that she used on disobedient students and the overly amorous Cornelius Fudge. Remus knew she was joking but couldn't help his mind slipping back to final year fantasies of seducing the newly appointed Transfiguration teacher in the Prefect's Bathroom. For a moment he considered asking if she'd ever had similar thoughts. On reflection, though, perhaps this was shaky ground. What if she had had similar thoughts, but about someone else? He wondered if there was any chance of persuading her to indulge him, to meet him in the bathroom with strict hair and spectacles and high-necked robes so that he could show her, rather than tell her, what it was he'd wanted for so very, very long.
Probably not, he decided.
Instead he answered her question with his hands and mouth until she was completely satisfied.
* * * * *
An hour later Remus was still awake. Unbidden, his mind had drifted back onto the subject of Harry and the Butterbeer and he was still concerned that Harry and his friends had somehow stumbled across the Marauder's Map. He wondered once more whether he should share his suspicions with Minerva. It would mean telling her about the map but he wasn't entirely averse to this idea, since she could hardly hold against him something that he'd done more than a dozen years before as a thoughtless teenager. Perhaps she'd know what to do.
He held his breath and listened carefully. Sure enough the familiar steady cadence of her breathing told him she was still awake.
"You don't think there's any way that Harry could have gone to Hogsmeade, do you?"
"Of course not," Minerva said, her voice muffled by the pillow.
"But what if he found a way out of the castle?" Remus persisted.
She wearily lifted her head.
"There is no way out of the castle that we don't already know about."
Frowning at the worried expression on his face, she leaned over to kiss him.
"Trust me, Remus. I know you're worried. But Harry is safe here."
"Then how do you explain the Butterbeer?"
"When I went upstairs just now there were sweets and Butterbeer and goodness knows what else all over the place. I expect Granger and Weasley brought Harry some back from Hogsmeade, don't you?"
Remus felt suddenly relieved. It hadn't occurred to him to think that Harry's friends would bring him back presents but now that Minerva had suggested it, it made perfect sense. They'd certainly feel bad about him not being able to join them on the visits to the village. Remus could vividly recall his own excitement at visiting Hogsmeade for the first time. They'd probably brought back all the treats they could carry.
Once again, Remus offered up a silent prayer of gratitude that Harry had such good friends in Hermione and Ron.
And Harry couldn't possibly have the Map: how would he have ever have sneaked it away from Filch? Even if he had, he surely wouldn't be stupid enough to try and get out of the castle, particularly if there was a risk that he might run into a Dementor. He'd seen first hand how fast they could move. No, Remus decided. He was worrying about nothing. A large black dog around the castle would be noticeable – more so than a man who could wear an invisibility cloak or disguise himself with polyjuice potion.
It was nothing.
He felt his eyes grow heavy and his muscles relax as sleep finally overcame him.
* * * * *
A big thank you to Sasha for all the beta-reading help! And thank you, as always, to everyone that has reviewed or e-mailed to say you're enjoying… I'll try not to keep you waiting too long for Chapter Twelve.
Mel