Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, events and/or places that are recognized as being written and created by J.K. Rowling. J.K. Rowling owns all the characters and places from the Harry Potter books including the ones used in this story.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who commented!!!!! This is the second last chapter for this story. Its getting a little long, chapter wise. Plus, I can't stop working on Nothing Better To Do (plug, plug! lol) and I have a new story I'm working on. Anyways, enjoy the update! :D
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Waves of spicy heat hit her face in all the right places, and her stomach grumbled in a low frequency, longing, at the mere smell of it.
Clea exited the Hogwarts kitchen, the hour closing in on two in the morning, with her snack of choice held presently in her hand. A glazing, steaming cinnamon bun; her mouth watered.
It had been a little more than a month since Clea left Andromeda's house to return to Hogwarts. She was sad to say good-bye to Andromeda, but the two promised each other to go back to writing weekly letters; and have since sent each other almost three per week.
Clea feels grateful to have her cousin back in her life. Someone to finally occupy the previous empty slot in heart that is reserved for 'family'; all though she secretly holds a sliver of a spot for the one family member that she will never let go of.
Clea nibbled the side of her treat, her teeth scraping over the crust of cinnamon sugar, and continued on her walk back to her room.
After choosing out her dessert from the array of desserts presented to her by the eager house elves, Clea pondered bringing Remus something. A quick glance at her wrist watch assured her that her lycanthrope afflicted love, would be fast asleep at such a wicked hour; given that a full moon, and a slew of test papers to correct had left his eyes that much more heavy and bagged.
On their way back to Hogwarts, Clea and Remus mostly sat in a comfortable silence; fingers entwined and heads pressed together.
Clea's eyes would flicker up to peer at Remus's face once in a while and twinkle to see a soft smile gracing his scared and sleeping face.
He was hers again.
Not that he ever stopped being hers. It was Clea, and she admitted it, that believed everything was lost. Remus was restrained to start over, and Clea got annoyed.
She should have known, though. Remus doesn't jump into things. Remus isn't rash. He would rather be hurt himself than cause someone else pain.
However on the way back to Hogwarts, as Remus's silent presence became more comforting than any words, Clea realized that Remus wasn't hurting himself, or her; she was doing the hurting to herself. Clea took Remus's actions and shaded them in her own aristocratic, selfish colors; refusing to understand that Remus kept her at a distance for a real reason.
The past month had been used to slowly reset things to the way they should be. Clea didn't try to explain anything to Snape. Instead she acted completely normal, and ignored his attempt at snide remarks or death-wishing stares.
If Clea thought she was being a baby, then Snape must be pre-natal.
Giggling to herself, Clea gobbled up the last morsel of her cinnamon bun. She was still wandering aimlessly around the downstairs corridor.
Doubling back as she passed a window, Clea glared up at the long, soft dark grey curtains; falling from ceiling to floor. She looked down at her fingers, striped with bun residue and spit, then back up at the curtain.
Clea reached her hands out to the soft, thick fabric. Squinting her eyes, she peered through the darkness of the hallway. No one was there.
Her sticky hands moved around the drape in wide circles, fisting around a fold and then smoothing it out flat. She allowed the velvet trimmed side edge to nuzzle in between her fingers, picking up any missed crumbs.
Laughing with sick amusement, she traced 'Cleopatra' with her fingers across the fabric.
"Cumpha"
Clea snapped still, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest, and splatter blood all over the now cinnamon smelling curtains. She took out her wand, and moved to the middle of the corridor.
Maybe moments ago she was childishly cleaning her hands on expensive curtains, but she was indeed a professor; and if a student was out of bed, it was her job to catch them.
Funny how the coughing sound she heard, bared no resemblance to the voice of a young person.
Clea swallowed her nerves and walked towards the sound; coming from somewhere on the Grand Staircase in the Great Hall.
A small torch, casting a dim, dying orange light over the room, stood near the stairs. Clea's fingers gripped her wand so hard, that she assumed there would be permanent grooves in the wood.
There was a timbre in that cough she heard; a sound so lost that she almost didn't hear it. But she did, and it sounded vaguely familiar. It also caused every strand of marrow in every one of her bones, to shake with fear.
Maybe it was Fred or George Weasley, she thought. When Clea was in the kitchen, the house elves let it slip about a party being thrown up in Gryffindor tower in honor of their Quidditch win over Ravenclaw, earlier that day. I wouldn't put it past them to still be up, and in search for more food.
Clea scanned the hall, and again found she was alone. Shrugging her shoulders, she smiled to herself. Whoever it was, they're having a bloody easy time getting to their destination. I'm a horrible professor.
Clea giggled, and swung herself around the barrister of the staircase, to make her own way back to her room.
Her foot, stuffed into an oversized, fluffy red slipper, came crashing down onto the bottom step; and what Clea saw next to her foot, stopped her heart.
A foot print, large and muddy, was stamped onto the stone. Clea's eyes drifted to the next step, where a similar boot shape shined dimly in the darkness.
She jumped up the stairs, following each foot print. Her hands shook.
Breathing starting to become harder and harder to do, Clea collapsed on the floor between two of the sets of stairs. She looked up, and saw the portrait of Sir Cadogan standing not to far from her.
They're probably left from this afternoon, she assured her nerves. The house elves just haven't had a chance to clean the steps; not yet.
Clea sighed and stood up. "There is nothing to be so jumpy about," she whispered. Turning around, she began to make her way back down to her floor.
Stopping just outside the door to her hallway, Clea looked down the staircase at all the muddy footprints.
"I owe those house elves a favor, I suppose; for the delicious snack." Standing on the tip of her toes, Clea preformed a cleaning charm and wiped away all the footprints. She smiled at her own kindness, and turned back around.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Clea was just about to open the door to her hallway when she heard it. Her head snapped back towards the Gryffindor common room. Somebody screamed so loud that they woke up the sleeping paintings that surrounded the stairwell. That wasn't just someone having a nightmare, Clea thought.
She wheeled around. Thinking about the footprints she just erased, the familiar tone in the cough she heard, and the fact that something not normal just happened; one person came to Clea's mind. What did I just do!?, she screamed panicky in her head. Clea realized that she needed to flee the scene, and fast.
She bolted through the door and sped to her office. Once she was safely inside, she sank to the floor, chest aching with scattered breathing.
"Oh…" Clea gasped, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "Sirius."
Clea refused to leave her room that night, pretending she was comatose and unable to be woken up.
She lay huddled in her bed, not wanting to know or think about what just happened.
I had to run away, she reasoned in her head. If someone saw me out there, so close to the tower, so close to where, he might have been...they would all think I helped him…
Clea's mental ramblings halted. She didn't even want to think about what possibly just happened. What she possibly could have stopped; if she wasn't a scared, selfish, true to her house of Slytherin, kind of person.
Her eyes clasped shut. Seconds melded into minutes, which were lost as they faded into hours. Clea's mind rocked her into a real deep sleep.
Her eyes fluttered open. Blurred colors swirled into fuzzy images, which formed a clear picture of the bridge of Remus Lupin's nose. Remus's hands gently rocked her back and forth, waking her up.
"What are you doing here?" Clea squeaked out, her vocal cords not wanting to work yet. She dragged her head back from Remus, to get a better look at him.
"I came to wake you up. You've missed a lot over this one night, you know," Remus said.
"Did… everybody knew I was in here, right?"
Remus nodded. "But, if you really wanted to assure that nobody suspected you of helping Sirius in, perhaps hiding was the wrong way to do it?" Clea's eyes fell down. "No one suspects you, Clea. Dumbledore had a house elf confirm you were in here."
"Oh," Clea said, shocked that a house elf came into her room and she didn't know. "What happened, Remus? Harry…I mean, you don't look upset, so, I assume he's all right?"
"Harry is fine," Remus assured her. He turned so that he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. "Sirius got a hold of the password into the tower and went up there…but, he mistook Ronald Weasley's bed for Harry's. Ron screamed and Sirius ran away."
"Where did he go?" Clea asked worriedly. "How does he keep escaping?"
Remus buried his face in his hands. "I can't face Dumbledore anymore, Clea," Remus shouted into his palms. He looked over at Clea, his eyes looking more tiresome than ever. Clea moved closer to him, fitting herself perfectly in his outline. Remus's arm wiggled under her, wrapping itself around her waist. "But, if I tell him about them turning into Animagi…"
"Its ok, Remus; we've had this conversation." Clea shifted, so that her head snuggled perfectly in the nape of Remus's neck. "Let's not move from here. Lock yourself in this room with me."
Remus laughed breathy. "Everyone will wonder where we went."
"They'd survive without us."
"Harry needs me," Remus retorted, tightening his grip around Clea's waist.
Clea sat up so that she could glare directly at Remus's smiling face. "Pulling out the 'Harry needs me' card, that's brilliant."
Remus laughed and pushed the escaping strands of hair, out of Clea's eyes. "If you were hiding a library somewhere in here…nothing would make me leave."
Clea rolled her eyes. "I think you should date Pince; perfect match, you two. You can live forever in your rule abiding world of bounded pages."
"Will there be chocolate?"
"Librarians don't like chocolate, Remus; gets on the books." Clea wiggled her fingers in the air.
Remus grabbed Clea's hand and kissed it. "I'm happy that you're not a librarian then," he said, matching Clea's soft smile with one of his own.
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Clea's yawn lasted for a whole minute, and was so big it threatened to rip her jaw off. Her head sank heavily forward, crashing onto the thick stack of papers in front of her.
It was Easter Holidays, and Clea vowed to use this time to write up her final examinations.
The months had soared by in a blink. Clea attributed that partly to a wish she made a couple weeks ago.
Remus made her read the Daily Prophet one day, informing her that if Sirius was found, the Dementors were allowed to perform their kiss on him.
Clea wished on the brightest star she could find for school to hurry up and end, sending Harry safely away from Sirius, who she hoped, would just give up his hunt and disappear.
Another confrontation with Snape also made Clea long for summer to come.
One night, when Clea was once again on a journey to the kitchens, Snape stormed up to her office, and began manically rambling about not trusting Remus because of an insulting map.
Biting her tongue, and nodding her head, Clea listened to everything Snape told her about Harry and Remus; before she finally, but politely, told him to leave her alone.
Snape had tried to come and talk to her alone in her office everyday since then. Clea felt sorry that she was doing this. The two used to have somewhat of a fun time talking and visiting each other's offices. Even her inner monologue refused to allow her to admit that she missed Snape's friendship.
A cough and a hesitant knock made Clea's head spring up-right. At the next hesitant knock, Clea waved her wand, opening her door. Standing there, looking rather sheepish and unsure, were Ron Weasley and Harry.
"Come in," Clea called, in a light cheery voice, smiling wide as the two walked in. They weren't in her classes, so it was odd to see them at the door.
"Hello, Professor," Ron mumbled. He turned rigidly to his right, and poked Harry in the ribs with his elbow.
"Um, Professor," Harry began, straightening his glasses and walking forward. "Ron and I are researching some things for Hagrid's appeal."
"Oh," Clea whispered, nodding her head. "That's very nice of you boys."
"Yeah, well, Hermione told us that you taught Care of Magical Creatures before you came here, and,"
"We were wondering if you had anything that would help us. You know a book, or something," Ron explained, taking over. He waved his arm around at the shelves of book along Clea's wall.
Clea smiled and stood up. "I wish I had something to offer you, Ron; but, I've given most of my notes to Hagrid all ready, and the rest I gave to Hermione. She's been working hard on Buckbeak's case."
"Oh, ok," Harry said, turning towards the door. "Thanks anyways."
Clea was staring up at the top shelf of her bookcase. Bending her neck backwards, she saw the upside-down versions of Harry and Ron walking slowly out the room. "Wait," she called. "I never gave Hagrid this book. It's pretty old, but it might have something useful."
Harry and Ron smiled hopefully at Clea and joined her over by the bookcase.
Grunting loudly, Clea stood on the nails of her toes, desperately trying to pull down the enormous, heavy book. Small pellets of dust fell into her eyes, as the book budged forward.
"Owof," Clea shrieked, as the book toppled into her hands, and almost onto the floor. Clea caught it by the edges of its spine. The book spread open, allowing more dust to cascade to the floor, along with about a dozen small squares.
Clea bent down, her breath hitching when she saw a nineteen year old Remus Lupin blushing and kissing her eighteen year old self on the cheek.
Swiftly, Clea grabbed the picture, before Ron or Harry could tell who was in it. She held the square against her chest, and looked at the two boys; ready to explain how she is dating their Defense Teacher.
Instead of Harry's and Ron's eyes on her though, their faces were still pointed to the floor. Clea followed their stare, and let out a gasp.
Waving up at the three, from their permanent home in the photograph, was the same eighteen year old Clea, but this time her black hair was pressed against the red hair of her best friend. Lily laughed, and waved; blowing small kisses at the camera.
"Who is that?" Harry asked his voice low and dangerous.
Clea bent down and snatched all the pictures up. "She's exactly who you think she is, Harry." Clea handed Harry the picture. "I was friends, best friends, with your mother, Lily."
"At Hogwarts?"
"Yes; and after," Clea stopped talking. She felt awkward and unsure of her own voice. "You can, you can keep that photo, if you'd like to?"
Harry looked up at Clea, with a rushed smile. "Thank you," he said.
Clea lifted the handful of photos up to her face, almost too close for her pupils to recognize as actual objects, and shuffled them; mentally informing her fingers to stop moving when her eyes have signaled a spotting of red hair.
There were ten photos in her hands and they were all of her and Sirius making strange, supposed humorous faces at each other, at the camera, at the people surrounding the camera. Clea pocketed them, for later viewing.
Clea's eyes held lingering sparkles that almost made her miss the two young boys staring expectancy and bewilderment at her.
"Oh; here," Clea fumbled, handing Ron the large book. "The seventh chapter, if I remember correctly, titled: Should Neglected Creatures Be Penalized for Attacking Their Lazy Caretakers. That might have something useful."
Ron nodded, and buckled slightly under the weight of the book. He tried to show capability through his lopsided smile. Harry tucked the photo into the pocket of his robes, a million questions fogging his glasses.
Clea looked him directly in the eyes, something she often avoided. "I need to get out of this office," she blurted out. "I'll walk you to…?"
"The library," Ron moaned.
"The library," Clea repeated, her voice cracking with amusement. She patted Harry hesitantly on the shoulder, an action that meant more to both than just a casual 'let's go then', before she escorted them out of her office.
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"It really is ingenious."
"I know."
"Remus! Since when do you gloat?"
"I'm not gloating," Remus murmured, a blush creeping awkwardly onto his face. "I'm just agreeing with you that it is ingenious; if not also dangerous and illegal. I just wish I had this in my hands from the start of term."
Clea pulled her legs up to her chest, letting her shoes fall to the floor, so she wouldn't scratch Remus's desk with her heels. She sat up on his desk, while Remus stood in front of it, both staring intently at the large map spread out before them.
Remus bent down to examine a top corner of the magical map. Running her fingers down the imprint of one of the folds, Clea bit her tongue. She wanted to ask Remus how he felt about seeing the Marauders Map again, or why he hasn't said anything more about it than, 'If only I had this to begin with'. She didn't want to start a conversation that would make Remus uncomfortable, but she was also getting bored.
"Look, Remus," Clea said, hopping off of Remus's desk, and hopping just as energetically onto something else. "Look! Our names are on top of each other!" Clea pointed down at the left corner of the map.
"Clea, my bones are brittle."
"Ooowhooo!" Clea slid down Remus's back, her legs folding under themselves on the floor, while her hands took a particular long time to slide down Remus's backside.
"Clea," Remus sighed, clearly pinning an impending laugh down inside his throat.
Clea's hands gave one last squeeze before they fell unceremoniously into her own lap. "Bad fingers," she mock scolded. "And I hope you weren't implying that I'm fat!"
"Look at this, Clea. Quickly," Remus said, blindly offering his hand to Clea, eyes still focused on the map.
"Remus," Clea whined, as she crawled forward, butting her head against Remus's fingers as she passed them. Pulling herself up, Clea rested her chin on the edge of the desk. "I don't care any…does that say Peter Pettigrew?"
Remus made a sound that Clea knew accompanied a nod. She shot up from her knees, and groped for Remus's hand. Remus wrapped his fingers tightly around Clea's wrist, and the two watched in disbelief as the little footprintslabled as'Sirius Black' collided with four other pairs, one baring the name of someone they thought to be deceased.
"I've got to go after Sirius," Remus whispered.
"I'm coming too." Clea tried to whip around, but Remus pulled her back to the desk by the wrist.
"No, Clea," he said, his voice steady and serious. "Stay here! You don't want to go and see….you'll make it worse. Listen to me!"
"Remus! I'm going! I'm his sister! He's not going to kill someone…right…in…front of me," Clea's voice fell; if she was wrong, if she saw Sirius murder someone with her own eyes, how could life go on? "I'll stay, Remus…but, just, just be careful; ok?"
Remus took Clea's face in his hands and kissed her softly, but urgently on the lips. With one last meaningful look, he shot out of his office.
Turning to look at the map, Clea watched his little footprints as they traveled out of the castle. Quickly, her eyes were distracted by another set of tiny feet traveling closer, and then entering Remus's office.
"Severus!" Clea spun around so frantically that she slid in a 360 degree circle and wound up with her back facing Snape again.
"Where's Lupin?" Snape asked, curiously. Clea looked behind at him, catching the disgusted look he threw at Clea's discarded shoes in a heap next to the desk.
"Hey! First of all," Clea started out, slapping one hand over her hip and the other pointing to the floor next to her; "my shoes are charmed to smell like pineapples, and second…Remus had to, to step out for a, for a while."
"I'm bringing him his Wolfsbane. What's that?" Snape peered over Clea's shoulder with narrow eyes.
"It's noth-"
"It's that map!"
Clea grabbed Snape's face and forced him to look at her. "It's nothing," she stated, staring at him intently. "Remus will be ba-"
"Don't try to cover up for him," Snape spat, pushing Clea to the side. Drops of Wolfsbane splattered down onto the map as he slammed the goblet down on the desk. "There he is. Where do you suppose he is going? Or, more like, who is he going to see?"
"Severus," Clea whispered, cautiously reaching her hand out to Snape. That's all she could say, there was no stopping what Snape saw, what he was thinking, what he was going to do next.
"I'm about to prove, especially to you, Cleopatra, exactly what Lupin has been up to since the start of term." Snape dragged a moist finger down Clea's cheek, and then sprang for the door.
"No!" Clea lunged after him. Her fingers twisted around the collar of his robes and pulled him to a stop. "You can't do this!" Snape grunted and shook Clea off, but that wasn't going to stop her. She leapt in front of him, blocking his exit and pushing his chest back. "I can't let you go, Severus! I won't!"
"If you want me to ignore the fact that you're in this office right now, with that map, and ignore the fact that you're withholding justice, therefore acting as an accomplice to your brother, Black, then…you will let me go."
Hands shaking, stocking covered feet slipping on the polished wood floor, Clea still refused to budge.
Snape's hands wrapped themselves around Clea's, which were still clinging to his chest. "It's your choice, Cleopatra."
"No, it isn't," she whispered.
Snape cast Clea gently, but swiftly to the side and stormed out. Clea made to follow him. "This is for your own good," Snape called, and Clea's nose became inches away from being smashed to pieces, as Remus's office door slammed shut in front of her.
Clea struggled with the handle, hammered her fists and shoulders against the wood. It didn't budge. She closed her eyes, thought about the space outside of the room, but didn't go anywhere. You can't apparate in the castle, a voice shouted in her head.
"No," Clea whimpered, pulling on the handle again. Sprinting around the room, Clea searched for another door, or a hole; anything to escape from.
She halted in front of Remus's fire place. "I'm so stupid," she screamed, stepping into the fire place. She reached inside the small bowl hanging next to it, expecting to pull out a handful of floo powder, but instead she grasped at air.
"Rah," Clea sighed, angrily. "No door, no floo, window way to high to jump from! I can barley reach it anyway." Clea slid Remus's chair over to the window and climbed up on it. She watched as Snape walked briskly ("Merlin forbids he actually runs anywhere!") down the path towards the Whomping Willow and then out of sight.
"If I was in my office," Clea said, her breath fogging up the glass. "At least I'd be able to see them enter and exit the tree."
Clea jumped down the chair, falling back into it in a sitting position. She dragged herself, chair and all, over to Remus's desk and laid her head down. She closed her eyes, racking her brain for something she could use to escape with.
Hours passed, and Clea sat there. Red lines littered the right side of her cheek, where it was lying on top of scattered papers; and her eyes stared forward at nothing until they blurred out of focus.
Then she heard it. It pierced the inside of her ear drums, and stirred her tired blood back into motion.
Clea's eyes shifted to the forgotten goblet on Remus's desk. "Remus," Clea whispered, as another howl shot out into the night. "I have your Wolfsbane."
