Chapter Five: Old Friends

The more depressed I became, the friendlier Severus was to me. He started stopping by with various reasons to chat and--something he'd never done before--stayed stubbornly sitting beside me when Remus joined us at the staff table in the mornings. I appreciated his intention to cheer me up, but the performance was severely lacking, full of subtle and not so subtle jabs at Remus. I didn't care that Severus thought my hair was more appealing down, or that he thought the quip I'd made at our staff meeting about Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was particularly clever.

I didn't even bother going down to breakfast on Saturday and hid in my room, probably the only living person at Hogwarts not down at the quidditch pitch that afternoon to see the game between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. I needn't have been there to know who won. That afternoon the Gryffindors returned to the castle in triumph and the bangs and whoops of celebration, children floating down the hallways with cheeks crammed full of fizzing whizbees, and jennycrackers bursting outside the windows, went on all afternoon and well into the night.

I buried my head under my pillow and tried to sleep. I blamed the Gryffindors, but their noise had faded into the distance, and it was really my own perplexity that held me hostage. If things didn't change I would soon look as haggard as Remus. Did he lie awake at night too? I rolled over and stared at my dark room. Silver moonlight pierced the window, lined the edges of my furniture and a pile of dirty robes on the floor. The remains of a fire smoldered on the hearth, coals turning to ash that was silver too. My eyelids drooped, sleep releasing me at last.

"Nerissa!"

I twitched and sat up, disoriented. Remus's face was hanging, ghost-like, over the ashes.

"It's me. Can I come through? It's important."

I pulled my blanket over me. "I suppose."

A second later he stepped into my room, carefully knocking the ashes off his feet onto the hearth before he stepped onto the worn carpet. He was dressed in his usual threadbare robes but his hair was ruffled up, as if he'd just been roused from his own bed. Without preliminaries he said, "Sirius is inside Hogwarts. He just went after one of the Weasley boys with a knife. Dumbledore told me to wake you; we're searching the castle again."

My mouth dropped open. Instantly, I swung out of bed, too anxious to be modest about the ragged Wigtown Wanderers nightshirt that I was wearing. I ignited the candles around my bed, dug into the pile of dirty clothes to shake out my purple robe, and pull it on over my nightshirt. Though it only took a minute, Remus paced like a frustrated animal on the hunt. I slipped into some shoes and picked up my wand from the bedside table. "Ready."

"Come on, we've got the dungeons this time."

Down, down we went, taking turns shooting fireballs to bounce along the walls and ignite the torches. Our footsteps echoed loud against the flagstones, shadows scattering before us. The first corridor led to the kitchens and the Hufflepuff common room. Professor Sprout was standing outside the door, a ferocity to her stance that made it clear she would happily set one of her precious mandrakes on anyone who tried to get past her. Rather than turn everyone out of their houses, the students had been confined to their respective common rooms with the heads of houses on guard for the duration of the search.

"All clear here," she said, nodding us on our way. "And I already had the house elves search the kitchens."

"Good," Remus answered. We continued past the corridor's portraits of vegetables and Christmas cakes, without a second glance into the kitchen, jogged down the inclined corridor to a deeper level, and skidded into the first classroom, an unused empty room in which Technicolor molds seeped between the stones. "Nothing," he muttered.

We went across the hall to find another empty room with rusted chains thick as my body hanging in loops from the ceiling. Squinting up at the huge heavy links, I said, "I thought Black was after Harry Potter, why would he go for someone else?"

"Harry shares a dormitory with Ron Weasley. Sirius attacked the wrong bed."

"Is Weasley hurt?"

"No. Though I doubt he'll sleep easy for awhile. Sirius must have realized he had the wrong boy. He hasn't seen Harry in twelve years but all it takes is one look at him to know who he is. He looks just like James."

"I don't understand," I said, as we proceeded down the corridor. "Why didn't Black go ahead and kill Ron Weasley? He would have known the boy would rouse the castle."

"I don't know. I doubt he makes any sane decisions anymore."

"An insane man doesn't successfully escape from Azkaban, doesn't avoid capture when the entire wizarding world is looking for him."

"I'll ask him when we find him," he replied, grimly.

The hallway turned, went down another three steps, and expanded in width and height. Arms crossed, Severus glowered in a puddle of light along a blank stretch of wall, pacing irritably. The entrance to the Slytherin common room must have been hidden somewhere behind him.

"Seen anything, Severus?" Remus asked.

"If I'd seen anything do you think I'd be wasting my time standing here?"

"Are your students all right?" I asked. "They must be very frightened."

"Of course they're all right. Slytherins are not flighty little children whimpering over nightmares. My seventh years are perfectly capable of defending things on their own here."

Remus said, "Dumbledore's orders, Severus. You stay; we search. Take it up with him."

As we brushed past I saw Severus's grip on his wand tense, turning his knuckles white, as if he was selecting a jinx to aim at Remus's back. My own back tightened, but it was only Severus's words that followed us. "Be careful in my office, Lupin, you wouldn't want to get burned or accidentally knock over your very special potion. Where would you be without that?"

Remus ignored him, aiming his wand to ignite the torches ahead of us. He pushed on the heavy door into the potions classroom and I slid in, wand poised for trouble. Worn, scrubbed tables and stools filled the room in rows, braziers, cold and dead, sitting on each one. Water trickling from a gargoyle into a basin made the only sound. Remus slipped in too, and I raised a finger to my lips, jerking my head toward a large cabinet. He nodded, silently approached it, and yanked the doors open suddenly. It was so filled with jars and bottles of ingredients there wasn't room for an escaped criminal.

He lowered his wand. closed the doors, and gave a sigh that hung as frost in the air. "Nerissa…I should have offered a minute ago: I'll go back and take over for Severus if you'd rather continue the search with him."

The offer startled me, the more so because I realized I had forgot to be afraid of him; in all the excitement, trusting him just came naturally despite any warnings. If he was in some kind of alliance with Sirius Black, searching the castle with him became an entirely different endeavor. Would he deliberately try to distract me? Was his offer an attempt to get Severus away from protecting the Slytherin common room so Black could gain access?

"No…no, like you said, Dumbledore's orders. We'll keep going. Isn't Severus's office next?"

The office was as cold as the classroom, so that our breath continued to come in puffs. I found myself trying to keep one eye on Remus while expecting Black to come leaping out from behind a specimen cabinet with the other. The office was cramped. Foul-looking creatures floated in jars on shelves lining one wall, and cauldrons of several sizes were set up ready to brew. A fairly large one that squatted in a corner was half full of something blue and smoking.

At the desk, Remus pulled over a scroll that lay open by a quill and serpent-shaped ink pot, so he could read the writing. "Looks like Severus is experimenting with swelling solutions. Well, nothing here; let's go. There's still the ballroom and several oubliettes to check out. I also want to go back and just make sure of the kitchens, regardless of what the house elves said."

But I didn't answer, having been drawn to the blue-steaming cauldron with a rapidly beating heart. A white scum swirled across the potion's surface, like clouds covering the moon. "Remus?" My voice sounded higher than normal. "What's this?"

He came over, glanced at it nonchalantly, and said, "That's the potion Severus makes for me. Nasty stuff."

"And this is what was in your office that night?"

"What night?"

"The night I spent with the wolf. In the goblet."

"Yes, very probably. I have to take a lot of it and quite frequently too."

"I had forgot," I whispered. "Severus is the one who makes it for you."

He wore a wary expression. "Yes, he does. He's very skilled."

I whirled around to look at him. "This is it! This is the smell! The one that was in my room. And I thought it was you because I smelled it that night in your office, I didn't know that that was your medicine, and I had forgot that Severus makes it for you."

"You thought I was the one--" he began, but I grabbed his arms and shook him.

"Don't you see what that means? It means it could have just as well been Severus. And if that's the case then everything he's been saying about you is a lie too."

Remus became more guarded still. "What exactly has he been saying about me?"

"That you can't be trusted. That you're in league with Sirius Black. That you even tried to kill him once. Lots of things. Ridiculous things. And I can't imagine that I even half-believed them. But now I see why he's been so happy lately. He knew it worked, that he'd made me doubt you." I hugged him as he stood there befuddled. "Oh, Remus, I'm so relieved."

He patted my head awkwardly. "But it still could have been me, if this is what you smelled."

"No, I just needed some other answer. I'm sure of it." I smiled up at him. "I'm sure of you. Please, please forgive me."

He crushed me to him so that I couldn't see his face but his voice was thick. "When you became so distant after your date with Severus--"

"It wasn't a date," I interjected.

"--'Conversation' then--I can't tell you how worried I was. I knew something had changed. I i was /i part of a foolish prank that almost killed him. But I didn't know what he had said, or how you felt about it--about me. It's been eating me alive." He leaned back enough that he could take my face in his hands and gaze at me earnestly. "There i are /i things you should know, things I want to tell you, but not here, not now." With that he kissed me hungrily, and I buried my fingers in his tousled hair. Sirius and Severus and all the rest of them were irrelevant to the singing in my body's core.

He parted from me firmly, holding me back. "Not now, but soon." He kissed his fingertips and pressed them gently against my lips as if setting the promise there.

Holding hands, we left the office just as Severus came up to it. His glance took in our entwined fingers and the flush I felt on my cheeks. "Good to see you're hot on the trail, Lupin," he sneered.

"We'll check the oubliettes next," he replied, pulling me away.

--------------------------

Once again, Black escaped capture and this time Dumbledore brought in more extreme measures to enhance security. I was afraid he might even allow the dementors on the grounds, but when the suggestion was made, he closed the discussion with the first rude word I'd ever heard him utter. Instead, trolls were installed in the seventh floor hallway, clumping up and down in a frightful temper and looking like they might have mashed Gryffindor for dinner some evening. Everyone was on edge and the staff, including myself, spent our evenings repairing or enhancing the various protective spells that swathed the ancient castle. By Saturday, I don't think a moth could have got in without Dumbledore's express permission.

And also by Saturday, the students were quite ready for their weekend in Hogsmeade, and I was anticipating an entire afternoon with Remus. It was a sunny day that teased the senses with a springtime still weeks away. I wondered if he'd be up for taking a boat out on the lake or maybe picnicking in one of the greenhouses. I wondered enough that I did a bit of spot cleaning just in case. I kicked my only other pair of shoes under the bed, scooped the clutter off the Undressing table into its already overstuffed drawer, and jammed the drawer several times trying to get it to close while quills, parchment, and a bottle of hair tonic threatened to spring out all over the floor. While I was about it, a house elf arrived in my room with a message from Remus requesting we meet on the seventh floor by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. It seemed a funny sort of suggestion, but I'd have been willing to meet him in Filch's closet if that's what he wanted.

"There you are," he said, when I got to the seventh floor landing, waving from in front of the tapestry. Several of the trolls woven into it paused from their attempts to bash their ballet instructor and wiggled their fingers at me too.

"I'm glad you came. I have a surprise for you." He grinned.

"Here?"

"Oh, yes," He took my arm and walked me to an ugly puce vase taller than myself, turned, and walked us back the other direction. "There are advantages to having been slightly lax about the rules when I was in school."

We got to a window, and he twirled us around facing the vase again. I said, "I thought you were a prefect."

He walked us back to the vase. "Not a very good one. I probably know more about this old place than anyone, except maybe Dumbledore."

I started to laugh as he turned us around again. "What are we doing? Is this some sort of dance like Barnabas the Barmy?"

"Patience," he instructed, and led me back to the window. "Now close your eyes." He steered me around in a wide circle again. "Now open them."

I blinked. A wooden door had appeared in the formerly empty wall, bleached as if by salt air. He opened the door and beckoned me in. "Just what we required."

"What is this room?" I breathed. A stone hearth took up much of the opposite wall with a cast iron stove built into it, much like that in my Dad's cottage. A much used kettle sat steaming on it, and metal arms that swung over it were hung with a wet pair of gray woolen socks for drying. Faded antique lace covered a narrow shelf built over the mantel, perched on it was an oil lantern, candlesticks, and an old clock. I ran my fingers along the back of a sofa of faded red velvet sitting a comfortable distance from the hearth. The table in front of it bore a tray with sandwiches, fruit, and a small plate of cakes.

"It's whatever you need it to be. Do you like it?"

"It reminds me of home," I said in awe.

"I was hoping it would. You described it so clearly to me back at the Three Broomsticks. Please sit down." He picked up a big earthen jug and set it nearby me. "Water. If you require it." My face must have shown my consternation, because he added, "Only I would be hard pressed not to have noticed your addiction."

I sunk into the sofa and took a deep breath. "It even smells right." I sighed. "I do miss the air, the sky--we call it the 'lift'. This time of year it's like the sun never even quite rises; there's only six or seven hours of daylight. When the haar--the sea fog--rolls in and covers the land everything is shrouded in a magical mist. It's beautiful and awesome and frightening at the same time. Like you are alone in the world, and the sun will never return. The moon is nothing but a smudge of gray on gray. And there's a tonal quality in the haar, when it's just you and the sky and the bit of earth you can see at your feet, that I've never found anywhere else."

"No moon?" He asked wistfully, sitting down aside me.

I shook my head. "Or stars. For weeks on end. In the summer it's the opposite, then it's the simmer dim, when the sun doesn't go down entirely. It rests below the horizon, just out of touch, and it's always twilight."

"The simmer dim. There's no night?"

"Not really. No."

He stared into the fire, visible through the iron grate of the stove, focused on some distant thought that drew him away from me. And I wanted him back, so I chattered on, "I do like the snow here though. It's lovely. We don't get much snow at home. Sometime I'd like to try sledding. The slopes around Hogwarts are steep enough but I don't much relish sliding into a dementor's lap, if they have laps. Do you know what they're like under those robes?"

He nodded absentmindedly.

"On second thought, I don't think I want to know." I handed him a napkin and held the plate of sandwiches in front of him.

"This is brilliant. Let's tuck in."

We ate our way through to the cakes after which Remus moved the dishes and tray away to a sideboard, and we both sat back with our feet up on the table, balancing teacups on our laps.

I gave a contented sigh. He copied me and we both laughed. He rubbed his belly with a groan of pleasure. "You know, I think I've gained a kilo or three this year. I'm not used to having house elves to look after me. What was that chant for greedy little sweet-guzzling children?"

I patted him. "Poor old thing."

"No, really, sing it to me again." He took my hand and sipped his tea contentedly as I chanted softly. As the last note faded, he took both of our teacups and set them out of harms way. I turned so that I'd be facing him when he scooted back, meeting him with a kiss. His lips parted to taste me, and I only reluctantly gave them up a minute later so he could move on to kiss my eyelids, my temple, the place where my jaw met my neck, and whatever grave secret he said he had to tell me couldn't possibly matter.

A loud pop made me jump. The fire flared high enough the flames shot through the grate of the stove door and licked the top of it, where the kettle was warming, then fell back again. "Lupin!" came Severus's voice, shrill and indomitable. "I want a word!"

"Oh, Merlin's beard!" I cussed at the interruption, to Remus's obvious amusement.

"He sounds serious."

"He sounds furious," I corrected.

Remus hesitated; I could see his struggle.

I said, "It's all right. Go ahead and go. I'll wait."

He looked relieved. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He tapped the stove. i "Ignisaugeo." /i The grate opened out, stretching big enough he could stoop and step into the swirling flames. His image spun and disappeared, and I flopped back on the sofa with a frustrated huff.

It seemed like forever, long enough I began to wonder if the interruption had been deliberate. Maybe Severus had even been watching us from the fire. I certainly wouldn't have noticed if he was, the delicious tingle in my belly blotting out everything else. The iron grate gaped like a dragon's open mouth in front of me.

A roar from the fire signaled Remus's return. His figure re-appeared, revolving, and then he stepped out, brushing himself off. He tapped the stove with an offhand shrinking spell and it returned to its original size. An old bit of folded parchment was in his hand and his brows were drawn together in consternation.

"What was that about then?" I asked.

"Old Snape had got his claws into Harry Potter. But I have to agree with him this time." He opened the parchment a bit so I could see its blank, time-stained surface. My eyes opened wider as I saw the smooth skin was growing veins, black spidery letters surfaced across it and formed the words: "Mssrs. Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs convey their compliments to M. Moony on landing such a tasty bit of crumpet."

I drew back, shocked, while Remus blushed and quickly folded it again.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Nothing but trouble." He shoved it in his pocket and sat down, then seemed to reconsider and drew it out again. "It's a map," he confessed. "A map of Hogwarts. I said I wasn't a good prefect. My school friends and I created it to aid us in our misadventures. This is how I learned so much about the castle and grounds, and avoided the sort of consequences I more than deserved. Filch confiscated it--not that he knew what it was--but he assumed anything he found on James was dubious, and once it had insulted him…that was it. I have no idea how Harry got a hold of it, but I gather he's been using it to sneak out of the castle."

"But Sirius Black--!"

"Exactly what I told him. All this trouble to keep him safe and he skips off to Honeyduke's like it's a game."

"He's a thirteen year old boy, Remus. It's very hard to convince the young that they aren't invincible."

His shoulders sagged, anger leaving him. "I know…" A shadow crossed his face as old pain split open again. Grimacing against it, he whispered, "I would have done anything to defend my friends. Voldemort was like a plague striking everyone around me, and no matter what I did, I was helpless to save any of them. When Lily and James died, my whole world fell apart; I didn't know how to bear it. But there was still Harry, and Dumbledore wasn't convinced that Voldemort was gone for good, so whether I wanted to or not, I had to find a way to live with what had happened. Dumbledore told me to have patience, that there would come a day when Harry would need me. So here I am and a fine protector I am! Who knows how many times that boy has gone into Hogsmeade? It seemed so important to teach Harry how to defend himself against the dementors, but all it did was make him over-confident and reckless."

The fire popped and crackled merrily. A cozy trickle of steam leaked from the teapot, oblivious to his pain. I could have pulled him close, stroked his head, and patted him, but I knew there was no taking away his grief, no matter how I tried. I sat up straighter. "He's James's son. You can't be surprised if he acts like it, nor are you to blame for it. Only I won't argue with you because then you'll do something stupid, like defend your position. So I've had my say, now show me your map."

He seemed a little stunned. After a moment staring at me, he unfolded the parchment like an automaton and blinked down at it as if he'd never quite seen it before. "I--I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The ink lines bled out over it again, racing across the surface, tracing walls and borders, labels popping up everywhere, and tiny dots tagged with names moving as if fleas inhabited the drawing.

"It's amazing," I said, awe-struck. "You boys did this yourselves?"

"Well…yes…it is quite good actually." His earlier blush tinged his ears again.

"So I take it you're Moony?"

"Yes, Moony, Loony, Lupin, you know." But he looked away, intensely interested in the map himself now.

"Where are we?"

He unfolded another section, smoothed it out, and pointed at the seventh floor where I found two dots close together labeled with our names inside a box labeled I Room of Requirement. /I

"And where is Severus?"

"In the dungeon I imagine." He scanned another section of the map. "Yes, in his office. And Harry and Ron…are in Gryffindor tower where they belong. Talking to Hermione Granger it looks like."

"Oh, I know her. She's in Chanting with me. She'll talk some sense into them, and if she doesn't I could always teach her a Chant that will glue their legs together."

Remus laughed, tension washing out of him. He said, "Mischief managed," and the whole elaborate drawing melted away. I caught his arm as he went to tuck the map in the outer pocket of his robes again.

"I don't suppose--Could I borrow that? For a little while."

He paused. Having a piece of his past, full of good memories, fall into his hands so unexpectedly, he was probably reluctant to relinquish it immediately. "Yes. Yes, of course you can."

I took it from him almost gleefully. "Good. I want to watch and see if Severus tries to slink into my rooms again."