Remus Lupin managed with great difficulty not to be too angry with Snape as he packed. It would have happened eventually, anyway— not everyone was as quick as Hermione, after all, but no one was really stupid either. The next person who found out would probably not have been kind enough to cover for him for months. And it was probably better for all involved that he resign now rather than in the middle of the next year.
Besides, Snape had just been outwitted by his three least favorite people left alive, two other teenagers, and a man who, under ordinary circumstances, would probably have been on his side. It was not the sort of thing someone took without revenge, particularly not someone like Snape, and having an old rival off the grounds would certainly make him happier next school year.
He finished packing and reached for the one piece of paper left on his desk. It was the Marauder's Map, and it still had yet to be wiped. Harry was headed in his direction. Remus shook his head and fingered the paper. "I know I really shouldn't," he murmured, smiling wryly.
Harry finally reached the open door of Remus's office, and he looked up when he knocked on the doorframe. "I saw you coming," he remarked, indicating the map.
"I was just talking to Hagrid," Harry announced, a bit breathlessly, as if he had just run all the way to the office. "He said you'd resigned. That's not true, is it?"
"I'm afraid it is," Remus admitted.
Harry stared at him for a moment, then his eyes narrowed as he came to a conceivable conclusion. "The Ministry doesn't think you helped Sirius escape, does it?"
"No, no . . . Dumbledore managed to convince Fudge that I was trying to save your lives. That was the last straw for Severus, I believe. He, erm . . . let it slip that I was a werewolf at breakfast this morning." Remus glanced around, taking one more mental sweep of his office in case there was something he'd forgotten to pack. He didn't see anything, and he'd just finished emptying his drawers.
"That can't be the only reason you're leaving!" Harry exclaimed. "You're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had! Don't go."
Remus smiled and shook his head. "This time tomorrow, Dumbledore's office will be flooded with owls. Parents will not want a werewolf teaching their children. And after last night, I see their point. All it takes is one moment of absentmindedness, from me or from Snape, and I'm a monster loose on the grounds. I could have bitten any of you last night."
"Still—"
"That's enough, Harry," Remus interrupted. He really didn't want to answer any more protests, especially since nothing could change his decision. "Tell me about your Patronus."
"Oh, er— how did you know?"
"What else could have chased the dementors off?" Remus asked with a smile. "You know, if there's anything I'm proud of over this year, it's how much you've learned."
"It was a stag," Harry answered quietly. "A big, silver stag. I think . . . was it my dad? What was his Animagus?"
Remus nodded. "Yes, James was always a stag when he transformed." He hesitated, then handed Harry the Map. "Since I'm no longer your teacher, I no longer feel guilty letting you have this. I daresay you, Ron, and Hermione will find a better use for it than I would."
As he spoke, Dumbledore appeared at the door. "Ah, Remus. . . . Your carriage is ready at the gates."
"Thank you, Headmaster." He glanced between the two and, seeing that they probably had things to say to each other, added, "I can see myself there, sir. Goodbye, Harry. Not for forever, though, I think."
"Bye," Harry conceded, a little forlornly.
Remus smiled wryly as he picked up his trunk and the tank for the water beasts, awkwardly shook Dumbledore's hand, and left the two to their talk. One more year at Hogwarts was more than he could have hoped for after his graduation, but not only had he gotten it, he'd gotten one of his best friends back as well.
Regulus looked into the shop. It was on the corner of the woods, outside a presumably Muggle village and therefore hopefully spelled to keep them away . . . and to keep the building standing. A grimy sign on the front window had the words "Post Owls" written on it. In the predawn light, he could barely read it.
Regulus looked down at Sirius, who grinned up at him in his dog form. "Are you sure this is the right place?" he asked.
Sirius nodded.
"Really? I could probably go into Magical Menagerie or something in Diagon Alley and not, you know, be leered at or shortchanged or any of the other things people tend to do in shops like this," Regulus pointed out.
The incredulous look Sirius was giving him probably meant he was wondering where you would hide a hippogriff in London.
"Grimmauld," he answered. "Kreacher'd throw a fit, sure, but we're his masters and I could leave the both of you there and go to Diagon Alley without being arrested for helping you."
Sirius shook his furry head and, no doubt to prevent more one-sided argument, reared and planted one front paw on the door, pressing down on the handle with the other. It swung open, and he strolled into the shop. Grumbling, Regulus followed him.
The shop was nearly as grimy on the inside as it was on the outside, which Regulus took to be the first bad sign. It was also populated only by a little wizard who sat half-asleep in the back behind the counter. Like the shop, the clerk had undoubtably seen better days. Regulus didn't even see any owls. "Well, perhaps we should come back when they have some actual stock," he told his brother.
The old wizard started. "Wha'?" he asked, then his brain caught up with the conversation. "No, no, we have stock. 'S in the back."
"So that potential customers have to buy blindly?" Regulus asked.
"No, so it don't get stolen. I can take them out for you to look at, if you like."
Regulus fought down most of his sarcasm. The idea was to get an owl, send a letter, and get to France. This formula did not involve getting kicked out of any shop by irritable old clerks who wanted to prove, at six o'clock in the morning, that they didn't need the business of anyone who insulted them. "Please do."
The clerk went into the back to retrieve an owl. Regulus glowered halfheartedly at Sirius, who sat on the ground watching the door with what seemed to be a very self-satisfied smirk. When the man came out with a birdcage, Sirius put his paws on the counter and reared up to take a look.
The clerk jumped backwards, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like "bloody hound."
Regulus couldn't agree more. "Get down." When Sirius ignored him, he tugged on his ruff and thought up a pseudonym. "Snuffles, get down."
Sirius dropped to the ground, shooting his brother a look of purest acid.
Regulus took this scant opportunity to actually take a look at the bird. Sirius defiantly put his head on the table if not his paws and fixed his eyes on the owl, who looked rather alarmed and backed slowly to the opposite end of his cage, staring at the dog out of milky eyes. "It looks half dead," Regulus observed. "I'd rather Apparate to Scotland myself to deliver the letter than send that thing."
"Oh, really?" the clerk demanded belligerently.
Regulus sighed. "Do you have anything perhaps a little livelier?" he asked, still trying to be halfway polite.
A progression of four owls later, the increasingly irritated clerk brought out a hyper little grey owl who zoomed about his cage, hooting excitedly. Regulus spent a few minutes staring at it. Not even nocturnal creatures had a right to be that cheerful at six in the morning. They should be preparing for bed. Finally, he said, "That thing's small enough for An— Snuffles here to swallow him whole." For a minute he'd been about to say Anna, but he remembered that his cat was not perched on his shoulder like she had been the last time he'd bargained in a wizarding shop.
The clerk looked at Sirius. "That thing could swallow small children whole," he answered. "Let alone an owl."
Regulus bit back a grin, hoping the clerk hadn't caught Sirius's look of indignant horror. "My cat could swallow it whole, too."
The clerk muttered something that might have involved Sirius eating that cat instead of the small children he evidently breakfasted on. Sirius looked even more affronted. "Look, man, I'm runnin' outta owls. An' 'e's lively, all right."
Regulus looked down at Sirius. "What do you say?" he asked. "He's by far the best we've seen, so do we take him?"
Sirius, no doubt to the clerk's great shock, nodded. He barked, too, no doubt in hopes of distracting from the movement of his head, but it probably didn't work.
"All right, then," Regulus answered, pulling out his wallet. He rifled through it for a moment, then looked up at the clerk a bit sheepishly. "Will you take Muggle money?"
"Snuffles?" Sirius demanded the moment he was back in human form.
Regulus was still examining the owl they had just bought. "It's six o'clock in the morning," he answered. "My brain was on the fritz and I couldn't think of anything embarrassing." He brushed his hair out of his eyes absently. Both of them desperately needed haircuts again, but Regulus was even less likely to trust Sirius with scissors than his brother was him, so he was going to wait until they got to France. After all, cutting his own hair was at best a quick fix of last resort.
"Still, Snuffles?"
"You know, he seriously overcharged me for this owl," Regulus said absently. "That wouldn't have happened in Diagon Alley. I could have gone to Gringotts and exchanged pounds for Galleons."
"You could have called me Padfoot," Sirius grumbled.
"And he looks like a decent owl for across town flights, if you can put up with bouncing," Regulus continued, ignoring his brother. "But still, I don't know that he could make it to Scotland. . . ."
"I said, you could have called me Padfoot," Sirius repeated.
Regulus sighed. Sirius was like a dog with a bone when he was irritated, which might explain his Animagus. "Maybe I will in France. Or" —he flashed a grin at his brother, even though Sirius just scowled back— "I'll maybe just stick with Snuffles, since it irritates you so much. You used to tell me never to call you Padfoot, too, you know. That was the point at which I knew we'd definitely lost you to the Marauders."
"You didn't loose me, I lost you," Sirius grumbled, "and I thought good riddance at the time. I'm still not sure whether I do or don't now."
Regulus smiled and shook his head.
"D'you have paper, by any chance?" Sirius added.
Regulus pulled out a Daily Prophet clipping and wiped it clean with his wand.
"How about ink and a quill?" Sirius added.
Regulus raised an eyebrow and looked down at his jacket. "Just how big do my pockets look, Sirius?" he demanded, mock irritably.
"It was a yes or no question, Reggie."
Regulus conjured them both out of the air with his wand and went back to examining the owl and hoping that it had more to it than at first glance. Sirius scribbled his letter for the next ten minutes. "Do you have a second piece of paper?" he asked after reaching the end of the first one.
Regulus wiped a second clipping blank and handed it to him. "Is it really that long?" he asked.
Sirius rolled his eyes and scribbled a second note. "Envelope?"
Regulus actually had one of those. He pulled it out and tossed it to Sirius. Then he reached into the cage and caught the owl, who struggled in his grip, apparently eager to get back to zipping around. Regulus wished he had half as much energy.
Sirius tied the letter to the owl's leg. "He'll probably be on the Hogwarts Express when you get there," he told him. "It's to go to Harry Potter, all right? Don't give it to anyone else."
The owl nodded and zipped off. "Snuffles," Sirius muttered again, turning back to Regulus, who grinned and shrugged.
"Get back on Buckbeak and let's get to France," Regulus suggested.
Sirius shook his head and swung aboard. "Another wonderful adventure in living together, I suppose," he mumbled.
Regulus's grin widened as he got onto Buckbeak behind his brother. "Well, adventure's certainly the right word," he replied as Sirius spurred Buckbeak into the sky again.
--
Author's Note: Wow . . . that's the end of one, making this the longest fan fic I've ever finished. Anyway, it's been one heck of a ride, folks, and I'm glad you all could join me for it. 1994 should be up in either next week or the week after that, depending on whether or not I get where I want to be this weekend.
Obviously, now that 1993's over, I've got people to thank: First and foremost, my beta Pam, who caught so many typos, at least two large problems, and put up with all of my insecurities and rewrites. And also, of course, my reviewers: Gabwr, who offered encouragement every step of the way, and imakeeper and SupportSeverusSnape, who practically also did so. To Jackline, who whether she'll realize it or not asked just the right questions to considerably strengthen part of 1994, and Mizz Moony Luver, who got me thinking about a part of 1996 I really should have been thinking about sooner (and who frequently made me laugh). Gwinna, who's comments always assured me I was on the right track, and Isis Flamewing, who gave me things to think about when I get around to smoothing some of this over. Last but not least, thanks to snapesmistress-in-law, Daydreaming Git, Arianna Malfoy, Mrs. Sniffy, jekl, Trinity Day, Dream Phantom, horn-head, LastOfTheSummerWine, YinYangDreams, CTMalone, Padfoot2446, perrinette, ems25, MissLinuxthePenguin, ave-adore, Twisted Truth, Nocturnal007, Delilah Evans, peppymint, Boleyn, Aria7, gatermage, Padfoot in Purple, Quiescent Vengeance, anonymous, asdfjk;l, Lily Hermione Potter, and scarlet dreamer for offering me encouragement and/or advice somewhere along the way. I really have appreciated every bit of it! Until 1994, Cheers! — Loki