Set at the end of fifth year, during the Ordinary Wizarding Levels.
I don't remember the exam logistics, if there were any, in Order of the Phoenix. Since it echoes the GCE 'O' Levels - which Singapore also follows – I've used that system. For science practicals, students in a particular shift gather in a holding area before they get sent to the labs, in order to make sure nobody communicates with the departing earlier shift. There's a shift timetable for all this.
For Lupin. Of course.
Finished 24 April 2005
Before the Potions Practical
Remus glanced nervously at the ceiling. This was not happening; Potions Practical in twenty minutes' time, his absolute worst subject, and nobody in the holding area except Severus Snape.
There was a book running in the Gryffindor common room, he knew. Two Sickles on Remus Lupin passing Potions by more than twenty percent got you ten Galleons if he actually managed it. Sirius and James, all solidarity, had tossed down two Galleons each, and Peter had ventured one. Remus had mourned, and pointed out that they'd probably never see the money again.
The odds on Severus Snape went in exactly the opposite direction: two Sickles to ten Galleons if he failed – by any margin. So far nobody had put down any money on it.
Remus bit his lip, trying to suppress the rising panic. Why the hell isn't anybody else here yet? He wanted Sirius here, and James, and Peter – who would essentially lie to him that everything would be all right, but who would also at least make him feel marginally better for some time before the exam.
Not Severus Snape, who had been under suspicion of jinxing Remus' supplies for roughly three years until Remus pointedly demonstrated that he was entirely capable of messing up all by himself even using Sirius' things, while Sirius got a perfect grade for his Rejuvenation Potion off Remus' supplies.
This was not happening.
"Will you stop fidgeting?" Severus snapped from somewhere behind him.
"Sorry."
Both their voices had been about half an octave higher than normal, tight with restrained agitation. Remus stared fixedly at the wall. "Do you think," he said, eventually, "that there's something wrong with this situation?"
Silence from behind him. He could imagine the mental struggle going on.
"You're here," Severus said. There was a pause. "Although, come to think of it, that's not particularly reassuring."
"Maybe we've got the date wrong."
This time the answer was immediate. "No."
"Or the venue."
"No."
Remus turned. Severus was sitting rigidly upright, face pale and expression unreadable. "Look, either the entire fifth year except the two of us decided to skip the paper, or we're in the wrong place at the wrong time. Which you do think it is?"
He watched Severus' features contort into a sort of sick grimace. "It's a state exam. I couldn't have got it wrong."
'I', Remus noticed. Not 'we'. He decided to ignore it. "We'll ask somebody."
If anything, Severus managed to look even sicker. "No."
"Severus – " Can't you see that this isn't the time for pride?
"There's a list," Severus said, quietly, "outside the staff commons."
Remus subsided, relieved, and picked up his bag. "All right."
.
Severus, Remus thought, looked like a person in his own private hell. He also looked like he was going to throw up. "What is the date, anyway?"
Remus studied the list, and then realised that he remembered the days in terms of phases of the moon. How do I explain this? The moon is gibbous waxing. I haven't the faintest idea what the date is. "Well… it says Wednesday. And today's Tuesday."
Severus turned his gaze onto Remus. "Is it?"
Certainty burned away under that stare. "I think."
"You think," Severus echoed.
I was sure until you asked. "Severus, now is not the time to doubt – "
"You got the date wrong."
"Yes, and so did you." Remus sighed in exasperation. "We're surrounded by people, Severus, this is ludicrous. We'll ask somebody for the date."
"No."
"Yes." Remus reached over and grasped Severus by the wrist, turned, and almost walked into Professor Amelia Absinthe, the Potions professor. "Sorry, ma'am."
The lady smiled at them. "I hope you're both prepared for tomorrow?"
Tomorrow. Remus felt the panic drain out of him. "Um. Sort of."
Professor Absinthe continued to smile happily. "It's always so nice to see inter-house friendships. I had no idea you were friends."
Severus blinked, went a curious shade of purple, and yanked his hand away from Remus'. "We're not."
"Oh." The 'oh' was vague, expansive. "Very well, then."
She went into the staff common room. Remus stared at the closed door, and then started to laugh, hysterically. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking she's thinking?"
It occurred to him that he should not find this hilarious, especially not in front of Severus, but he couldn't help it. Everything seemed hilarious.
Severus blinked a second time, and then turned and pinned Remus to the wall by his throat. "Are you crazy? She thinks we're – " He choked and tried again, hoarsely, " – and you have the nerve to laugh?"
"Misters Snape and Lupin – " Professor Absinthe's cheerful voice, again.
Severus stopped, horrified. His fingers loosened their grip, and Remus gasped for breath.
"Do refrain from – " She made vague gestures with her hands, " – public displays of affection outside the staff common room." Professor Absinthe paused. "The holding area for the Practical should be empty today."
She shut the door.
Severus let go, hopelessly, and Remus collapsed on the floor in giggles.
End
Notes:
I'm apparently surprisingly good at writing fluff, although I tend to be deeply embarrassed by it. This is only here because, well, for once I'm not screwing with their minds and they're actually acting their ages. Which is a sort of achievement. It doesn't fit in anywhere in my usual timeline, though.
This situation actually happened. I have a friend whom I call Lupin (to whom this fic is dedicated) and who calls me Sev. We both went to school a full day early for the GCE 'A' Levels Chemistry Practical last year. Independently, to our separate junior colleges. I had a major panic attack when nobody else showed up and couldn't remember the date even when I found the timetable, but absolutely refused to ask anyone. Whereas Lupin deigned to ask acquaintances what the hell was going on, saving on agony in the long run.
When I eventually found out that I wasn't the only one who'd done this I think I laughed so hard that I cried. Once I calmed down, I promised to make fic out of it. And so I have, six months later.
The 'I think.' 'You think.' exchange is straight from Waiting for Godot. Where the date is not inscribed on the landscape.