Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form. If I did, I'd be vibing on my yacht right now away from all the chaos that is currently happening in the world. Instead, I'm sitting on a chair in my house waiting for my mom to get home with takeout. Such is life.
Chapter 37
Harry sat in his dormitory, on the edge of his bed. It was early in the morning of December 18th, or late at night, depending on how you looked at it, and he was still awake. He'd spent the first hour after he crawled into bed lying on his back, tossing and turning as each of his roommates succumbed to exhaustion.
But Harry couldn't sleep. Eventually he'd sat up, ambling to the foot of his bed, and letting his legs hover over the side. He'd reached into his trunk, pulling out a familiar black box. The moment he flipped it open, a small glitter of gold zoomed across his vision. Instinctively, he darted his hand out and snared it. Staring pensively at his Snitch, he let it go again, only to catch it immediately.
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
He glanced out the window, at the very thing that had brought on his lack of tiredness. At first, he couldn't sleep because the thing outside his window was so bright it rendered his eyelids useless. But then he'd allowed his mind to wander, and any chance of slumbering peacefully evaporated.
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
Professor Lupin hadn't been in class again the previous day. Snape had substituted, opting to give them a pop-quiz for the entirety of the class instead of offering a lecture of sneers and insults.
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
The first question on the quiz? Werewolf transformations occur on a full moon. True or False?
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
"Oh, you've never noticed all those scars on Lupin's arms?" Fred tilted his head. "I reckon he fights hippogriffs in his free time or something."
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
"Who can tell me what the effects of the Wolfsbane Potion are?" was how Snape had opened their most recent Potions class. A cauldron of it had been boiling away on the professor's desk. Why was he making Wolfsbane if they were only to be lectured on the potion, and not actually make it?
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
After Harry had been released from the Hospital Wing following the Quidditch match, Fred and George had cornered him in the common room. They'd given him a bizarre piece of parchment – The Marauder's Map. Not only did it show every room and every hiding place in Hogwarts – 'We figure you might want some private places to take Hermione.' George winked – but it showed where everyone was at all times. Ignoring the Twins' suggestive advice, he'd used the Map to check on Professor Lupin when he found out he was under the weather. He was in his office, never going to the Hospital Wing, which was odd enough. Then, a dot labeled Severus Snape had entered, only for a moment, before leaving. Lupin didn't leave his office for the entire day.
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
Harry recalled his inaugural Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson that year. Amidst the mayhem that was his classmates fighting their worst fears, it was easy to forget what Lupin's Boggart had been. A strange silver orb, hovering motionlessly in the air. Harry looked out the window again, at the thing he'd noticed just before climbing out the window. The thing that had made it so difficult for him to sleep. It was nearly identical to Lupin's Boggart. Almost a full moon, off by just one day. Yesterday. The day Lupin was absent.
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
He'd spent too much time around Hermione to be able to ignore evidence in front of him. Even if the evidence led to a conclusion he didn't wasn't sure if he wanted to believe.
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
His eyes flicked between the almost-full moon in the window and the Snitch fluttering in front of him before reaching his hand out, trapping the golden ball between his fingers. Lupin had looked under the weather for the last couple of days. Similar to how he'd appeared in the days preceding the afternoon when Snape had assigned the werewolf essay. The day he'd had a Quidditch practice at night – because it was a full moon.
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
Harry sat in thoughtful silence for an agonizingly long time. He tapped his heels against his bedframe, shaking his head the longer he thought about what was running through his brain.
Zoom. Catch. Zoom. Catch.
He blinked, for what felt like the first time in hours. Sunlight was streaming through his window, and the full moon that had taunted him from outside was gone. Rubbing his eyes, he released the Snitch from his fingers one last time before capturing it, flipping his box open once again and watching it zip back into its velvet case. Shutting the box, he slipped off the bed, stretching. The snores of his friends still echoed off the scarlet walls, as it was not even seven in the morning.
Slipping on his black hoodie and lacing his Nike trainers, he slinked out of his dormitory and down the marble staircase. Mercifully, the common room was empty; the only sounds were the crackling of the many fireplaces and the gentle winter breeze from outside. He strolled through the portrait hole, ignoring Sir Cadogan's challenges to a jousting match, and made his way to the first-floor corridor.
"Come in." The professor's voice said softly as Harry knocked on the oak door adjacent to Lupin's classroom. "Harry! Having trouble sleeping?"
"Morning, professor." He said numbly as he slipped through the door. "Can we talk?"
"Of course, Harry." Lupin responded, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. Harry sat down, and the professor took a seat behind his desk, tossing a bottle of butterbeer to Harry after glancing around the room. "I'm sure you'll be getting plenty of this in Hogsmeade later today, but you seem like you could use a pick-me-up." He grinned, opening a bottle of his own. "What's on your mind? Dementors again?"
"No sir." Harry shook his head. "But you're still alright with teaching me how to defend myself? Against them?"
"Of course." Lupin nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "You said it yourself, if they come to another Quidditch match you need to be able to hold your own. I understand you're quite the flyer when you're not unconscious?" He smiled.
"Oh, well, I'm alright." Harry ran a hand through his hair nervously. Lupin let out a small laugh.
"You remind me of someone, Harry. But he was never modest enough to say something like that."
"Professor," Harry remembered why he'd come to talk to Lupin in the first place, and didn't want to stall any longer, "there's something I need to know."
"Oh?" Lupin sat up straight, placing his bottle on the desk.
"Why weren't you in class yesterday?"
"I was feeling ill, Harry. It happens to the best of us."
"Why did Snape visit you while you were under the weather?" Harry pressed on. Lupin opened his mouth, but Harry kept talking. "Why did Snape visit you while you were ill, the day after brewing a batch of Wolfsbane Potion in class?"
"Harry – "
"Why has Snape insisted on us learning about werewolves every time you've been absent from class?"
"Harry, listen – "
"Why have you only missed classes when there's a full moon?"
"Harry – "
"What does Snape know that I don't?" Harry concluded, his voice a bit shakier than he wanted it to be. Lupin sat in silence for a moment, his young face looking even wearier than usual.
"Harry, the total tonnage of what I know, that you don't, could stun a team of oxen in its tracks."
"Professor – "
"Harry." The professor's voice had turned deadly serious. "What I'm about to tell you, there are five people in Hogwarts that know. You are about to become the sixth." He took a deep breath. "As you seem to have figured out, I am a lycanthrope. A werewolf."
"Professor – "
"You are an awfully bright student, Harry. Truly, incredibly bright." Harry fidgeted in his seat, averting his eyes. "You excel in my class, but my colleagues tell me your talents are not limited to Defense. I should have expected someone like you to piece this together." He sighed, a wistful smile pulling at his lips. "I must ask you to maintain nothing but the utmost secrecy regarding this topic. I'm afraid it could jeopardize my job."
"Does Dumbledore not know?"
"He does. He is one of the five others. He and Severus Snape – who brings me a Wolfsbane Potion every month – along with Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. Professor McGonagall learned when I was a student here, and Madam Pomfrey treated me while I was a student, making sure I did not harm anyone." He explained, his eyes darting to the corner of the room. Harry glanced over and saw nothing but a tank with a Grindylow baring its fangs at him.
"Harry, the magical world does not have a favorable opinion of werewolves like myself. Even though I try to be nothing but pleasant towards those around me, especially my students – "
"You have been pleasant, Professor." Harry insisted quickly. "Truly. You're the best Professor I've ever had. Everyone says so, too, you shouldn't have to – "
"Harry," the weary man held up a hand, "no matter how well certain students may speak of me, my job is as good as gone if this knowledge is made public. Parents, especially ignorant parents, will not want their children to be in the presence of a werewolf. No matter what. I need your word that this stays between the people in this room."
"O-okay." Harry nodded slowly. "I won't tell anyone."
"Thank you." Lupin gave him a grateful smile, and they both sipped their drinks pensively. Harry mulled over everything he'd just been told. He wanted to be proud of his discovery, like he'd cracked a case in Sherlock Holmes fashion, but instead he felt like he'd been cursed with knowledge. His favorite professor was a werewolf. It was jarring, to say the least. But Lupin was still the same man, right? And, now, he had to keep his mouth shut. Only six people, including himself knew. Him, Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Pomfrey, and…
"Who's the sixth?" Harry suddenly piped up, furrowing his brows in thought.
"I'm sorry?"
"Who's the sixth person? Who knows about…you?"
Lupin darted his eyes to the corner again. Harry turned and saw the Grindylow still eyeing him like a piece of meat.
"I suppose it's not that Grindylow, Professor?" Harry cracked a smile, but it faltered when a mane of bushy brown hair materialized seemingly out of nowhere, followed by a familiar face and the rest of her body. "Hermione?"
"Hi, Harry." She said meekly. "I hope you don't mind." She held up his Invisibility Cloak, folding it up neatly and walking it over to him. He took it uncertainly, glancing between her and Lupin.
"What?" Was all he could manage.
"It seems you and Hermione are not only on the same page inside the classroom, but outside it as well." The professor leaned back in his chair, unable to hide his amusement. "She arrived about a half hour before you did. Rather than asking questions, however, she simply provided evidence and dared me to tell her she was wrong. I don't think I've ever seen such brilliance and resolve in a student her age." He paused, thinking for a bit. "Well, except for one." He said with a smile. "Anyway, when you knocked, I thought you might be a fellow Professor, so Hermione hid with the help of what I can only assume is your Invisibility Cloak?"
"Y-yes. It's mine. It was my dad's." Harry nodded slowly. Lupin just chuckled to himself, conjuring a chair identical to Harry's for Hermione to sit in. She slowly sat down, bouncing her leg up and down anxiously.
"You too are very similar to a pair of people I grew up with. Really, it's almost uncanny." Lupin drummed his fingers on his desk as if he were unsure if he should continue.
"Who?" Hermione asked. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."
"Now, what kind of a teacher would I be if I didn't want you to ask questions?" Lupin smiled warmly.
"Snape." Harry and Hermione said in unison, and their Defense professor chuckled again.
"Yes, I suppose so." He sighed. "Well, if you are curious, you two remind me of two very close friends of mine. Both of them were in the same year as myself at Hogwarts. And I believe the two of you have heard of them."
Harry cocked his head in curiosity, and Hermione remained silent.
"James Potter and Lily Evans." He said plainly. "You know Miss Evans better as Lily Potter."
Harry's heart slowed to a standstill, a storm of emotions brewing inside of him. Melancholy, mostly, at the mere mention of his parents, but a tingle of excitement pushed its way through.
"You knew my parents?"
"Quite well, yes." Lupin nodded.
"Do…do you mind…" Harry trailed off uncertainly, his eyes flickering to the floor. "I mean, I don't really know much about them. No one's ever told me about them at all."
"I'd be honored to, Harry." The professor gave another warm smile, lighting up his tired gray eyes. "Your father and I were very good friends through school. Even once we graduated we all remained close."
"All?" Harry perked up. "Who else?"
Lupin sighed, pursing his lips. "I suppose…I can't really tell much about your father and myself without telling you about our other two close friends."
"Okay." Harry said, eager to hear more about his parents.
"One was named Peter Pettigrew, a small boy we hung around with during our years in this castle. The other…I believe you've heard of him as well." Lupin paused. "He was your father's best friend. They were inseparable, always making mischief together when they weren't dazzling the classroom. When he wasn't playing pranks and practicing Quidditch, your father was particularly good at Transfiguration, even learning to become an Animagus during school."
"Really?" Harry gasped, too shocked at that knowledge to bother asking about his father's best friend.
"An Animagus? As a student?" Hermione leaned forward with great interest. Lupin nodded slowly.
"Your father and our other two friends learned to become Animagi so they could accompany me while I…transformed." Harry and Hermione nodded in understanding as the professor continued. "Harry, your father truly was a brilliant student. Much like yourself. How you excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts is how James excelled in Transfiguration, which is how he was able to become an Animagus as he did."
"Wow…" Harry and Hermione whispered in amazement.
"You remind me of your father in so many ways, Harry. Your appearance most of all." He sighed wistfully. "Except your eyes. They are Lily's eyes." He flicked his eyes towards Hermione. "Lily Evans was far and away the most brilliant student in our year. Not unlike you, Hermione, for your year."
The bushy-haired girl squeaked and looked down towards her lap, blushing.
"She was also Muggle-born, but she never let it hinder her." He continued. "She was also the most compassionate individual I've ever met. Something I've witnessed in you as well." He nodded. Somehow, Hermione's cheeks turned redder. "She was so kind, so exceptional. And once our seventh-year began, so inseparable from one James Potter." He smirked, and Harry's cheeks immediately matched Hermione's color. "It is not my place to comment on such matters regarding my students. But Hermione, young Harry here might be able to take more notes during class if you weren't constantly holding his writing hand under the table."
Hermione squeaked in embarrassment, looking ready to curl up into a ball. Harry felt something similar, making a point of looking anywhere except at his professor.
"Alas, Harry, there is something more I believe I should tell you." Lupin's tone darkened as if he'd flipped a switch. "There were four of us, myself, Peter, James, and one other person. Your father's best friend."
Harry nodded slowly, waiting for his professor to continue.
"His name…is Sirius Black."
Three Hours Later
"At least we didn't need Lavender to cover for us this time, right?" Hermione gave a small smile as she and Harry stood in the middle of Hogsmeade village. Harry didn't answer, his eyes glazed over as he mulled over what he'd been told a few hours prior. "Harry, do you want to talk about what Professor Lupin said?"
He couldn't even bring himself to answer. He blinked, and turned to meet Hermione's eyes. They were darkened with concern, barely visible between her scarlet and gold beanie and her scarf pulled tight around her face. She nodded in understanding and led him to a bench – the same bench where they'd had their pictures taken during their last visit to the village.
"Harry, please. Just say something." Hermione pleaded, squeezing his hand. "You'll feel better if you verbalize what you're thinking instead of bottling it all up."
"He was their friend, Hermione. My dad's best friend. They made him my godfather."
"I know, Harry." She said softly, scooting closer to him.
"He's the reason they're dead." His voice cracked, and Hermione unlaced her fingers from his, opting to wrap her arm around his shoulders. "He's the reason…he's the reason for everything."
"I know, Harry. I know." She whispered, resting her head on his right shoulder while rubbing his left one with her hand. "Tell me how you feel."
"Broken." He didn't like how much his voice was trembling, how much his entire body was trembling. He didn't like how many people were walking by, carrying about their days innocently because their godfathers weren't traitorous murderers out to do them in. "Hermione, I need to be somewhere – "
"Let's go." She nodded in understanding, helping him to his feet. "I know a place around here that nobody goes to. Not even the ghosts." She gave a small smile. Wordlessly, she removed her scarf as they walked up the road, wrapping it around Harry's face. "Can't have everyone see you looking upset. You're the hero of the Wizarding World after all."
"Hermione, you don't have to – "
"Hush." She said firmly, throwing the scarf over his shoulder. Harry gave a weak nod of gratitude. He let out a small sob, appreciative for Hermione's actions so no passerby could see his face contorted in anger, in sadness, in frustration. His hand found Hermione's and he squeezed it, a silent thank-you. She returned the favor, glancing at him with a worried but reassuring smile.
They wandered past every shop in Hogsmeade, then wandered a little more, until they found themselves at a decrepit-looking fence, looking at an even more decrepit-looking building.
"The Shrieking Shack." Harry managed to choke out. Hermione nodded.
"The most severely haunted building in Britain." She said slowly. "Except, of course…"
"It's not haunted at all." Harry croaked out a dry laugh. "It was just poor Remus Lupin."
"Do you want to sit down?" She asked, motioning towards a pair of tree stumps about two feet apart. Harry nodded, and they sat down across from one another, brushing knees. He lowered Hermione's scarf, exposing his face to her and the bitter cold.
"You must be freezing, now." He muttered, motioning to her pink cheeks. Hermione shrugged.
"You need it more than I do." She said plainly, and Harry felt his heart swell.
"Lupin was right, you know." He said in a small voice. "I've never met anyone as compassionate as you. I reckon I never will."
"Oh, Harry…" She whimpered, beaming at him.
"I think…" He trailed off, overcome with emotion. It took several deep breaths for him to continue. "I think my mum would have liked you. A lot."
"Oh, Harry!" She repeated, flinging herself forward and enveloping him in a hug fierce enough to send them toppling off the tree stump. They landed in the snow in a heap, and despite the whirlwind of emotions they both were feeling they managed to laugh at themselves. They laid there for a few moments, giggling like the teenagers they were. All thoughts of murder, betrayal, and fear vanished into thin air as the two of them blissfully laughed their problems away.
A twig suddenly snapped, and they whipped their heads towards the sound, only to see a rabbit hopping away from a fallen branch. Hermione glanced back at Harry and noticed their position. Harry was on his back, and she was lying on top of him, her face only a few inches from his. Blushing furiously, she leapt off of him, scooting backwards until her back hit the tree stump they'd just fallen off of. Harry blushed too, dusting himself off and averting his eyes as he sat up straight.
An awkward silence ensued, broken only by the sound of the wind in the trees.
"My mum likes you, you know." Hermione said timidly after a couple minutes of sitting in the snow.
"What?" Harry asked, finally meeting her gaze. She was biting her bottom lip, darting her eyes from side to side before settling on his face.
"My mum likes you. I got a letter back a little while ago from my parents. After I wrote to them about, you know…us." She sighed.
"Right." Harry said awkwardly. "Us."
"Our first date. Obviously I didn't mention Sirius Black trying to break into Gryffindor Tower that night. But I told her about Tomes and Scrolls. And Honeydukes. And Scrivenshaft's. And the pictures. I sent some of them, I hope you don't mind." She added hastily. Harry just shrugged, and let her continue. "My mum…well, she was really happy for us. But she sort of…knew."
"Told you." Harry couldn't stop himself from smirking.
"Oh, hush." She blushed again, picking up a clump of snow and tossing it in his direction.
"How'd she know? Was it because you're really bad at lying?"
"No." She said flatly. "It was because she came in to check on us while we were in the kitchen making ratatouille in Cannes. And we were…busy." She said shyly, blushing even more.
"Busy?" Harry raised an eyebrow, and Hermione threw more snow at him. "Oh, was this when you got me to snog you senseless?"
"Harry!" She gasped, unable to hide the cheeky smile that was forming on her face. "Maybe." She admitted after a pause.
"So your mum is okay with this?" Harry pursed his lips. "What about your dad?"
"He wrote a few sentences." Hermione said cryptically. Harry tensed, preparing for the worst. "He said he didn't want me to do…any of this until I was thirty. At least. If he had it his way I doubt I would have laid eyes on a boy until that point." She giggled, and Harry managed to crack a smile. "But if it had to be someone, he said he was alright with it being you. He called you a fine young man."
Harry was certain that if he wasn't in front of Hermione he would have burst into tears. Mr. Granger had always been kind to him, teaching him all kinds of things he'd never had a father-type figure to teach him and making an effort to make him feel like the kid he always wanted to be. He was terrified that his new relationship with Hermione would make all of that disappear in a flash. It wasn't something he'd even thought about until after they'd shared that kiss on the beach in Cannes, and the fear that he'd lost the one father figure he'd ever had crashed over him with more intensity than any tidal wave.
But, upon hearing those words, he couldn't be more thankful, more relieved, more reassured than he was at that moment.
"Do you think…would you mind if I read that letter?" He asked bashfully. "Just the part your dad wrote. I don't need to read your mum's play-by-play of our first snogging session."
Hermione giggled and threw another bit of snow at him, this one finally hitting its target. "Of course." She beamed, clambering to her feet. Harry glanced up and saw she was holding out her hand for him. "Harry Potter, would you like to go walk around Hogsmeade with me?"
"I would love that." He took her hand and let him yank him to his feet. "But…" He trailed off, waggling his eyebrows and stepping closer to Hermione.
"But what?" She whispered, the quickening of her breath revealing that she already knew what Harry was going to say.
"It's nice and quiet here. And I don't think we have to worry about your mum walking in on us." He smirked. Hermione looked ready to fire back a playful retort, but Harry leaned in and cut her off with a passionate kiss. Hermione let out an uncharacteristic squeal before enthusiastically returning the favor. They stood, both hands held in the other's, wordlessly expressing their heart's desires as snow began to flutter down around them.
Harry pulled back after a few moments, a triumphant smile on his face. He stood, breathing slightly erratically as his heart pounded against his chest. Hermione returned his smile and ducked her head a bit.
"Why'd you stop?" She asked shyly, her tongue darting out to lick an errant snowflake of her bottom lip. At the sight of that, it took every ounce of Harry's willpower to not crush his lips against hers once again.
"I wanted to see your face." He smirked, surprising himself with this flirtatiousness, this suaveness. Hermione blushed, mumbling something incoherent along the lines of "Shut up" before meeting his gaze again. She fluttered her eyelashes at him, sending his nervous system into a total frenzy. This time, he didn't hesitate, pulling her close and practically attacking her lips with his. Hermione reciprocated with an equal ferocity, her hands grabbing fistfuls of his winter cloak and pulling him even closer.
Harry smiled into the kiss, feeling the familiar tingle of warmth as Hermione ran her tongue along his bottom lip. Instinctively, he parted his lips completely and launched himself into the kiss even more, running his hands up her arms, drifting past her shoulders so he could cup her face. She leaned into his touch, inadvertently tilting her head, and Harry adjusted accordingly, smiling even more as he let his actions speak louder than any words he could come up with.
The snow continued to fall, coating everything around them in a fine white powder in a picturesque fashion. If only the two teenagers by the Shrieking Shack weren't too busy to notice what a perfect time it would have been to take out their Polaroid.
Then again, it's not like either of them regretted it.
A/N: Hey everyone! So, a few things to go over here. First of all, last chapter's West Wing reference was to Toby Ziegler's iconic line "You want to tempt the wrath of whatever from high atop the thing?" So yeah, there's that. Second of all, if you've seen the West Wing episode 17 People, you'll recall Toby bouncing his rubber ball off the wall as he ponders whether or not the Vice President is going to run for President. The beginning of this chapter is entirely inspired by that scene. "Zoom. Catch." Is supposed to be Harry's equivalent of Toby's "Bounce-bounce. Catch." Hopefully, if you've seen the episode, that was the same vibe you got. If you haven't seen it, go to YouTube and type "The West Wing – Toby's Finest Moment" and click on the first result. Watch the first two and a half minutes or so if you want to see where I drew my inspiration. It's brilliant television. Anywho, hopefully you all enjoyed clever Harry. With all the hints and the fact that he spends so much time around Hermione, it only makes sense that this Harry can piece together Lupin's condition.
Third of all, if you haven't noticed by now, I'm deathly afraid of writing kissing scenes. I've made a point of alluding to full on snogging a couple of times, but I've never explicitly written it out before because a) I was afraid of coming off as unoriginal and b) I thought I wouldn't be able to properly express and describe it without sounding lame/bad/creepy/idk something like that. Dialogue is my strong suit, so this seemed a bit out of my league. But, I conquered my fear, and wrote this chapter. So please let me know what you think. I tried really hard.
But most importantly, I changed the cover of this story! This piece was done by an incredible artist named Ted Curtis. Check out his Tumblr: Ted Curtis Art, he truly is exceptional at what he does, and I cannot express enough gratitude for him for making this piece for the cover. It just makes my heart feel happy, and it's a nice feeling. Thank you, Ted! You're amazing!