Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline
"I Hold the Moon"
ooo
"You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope."
- Persuasion, Jane Austen
INESCAPABLE
Madam Pomfrey insisted Harry stay the weekend in the hospital wing. So, naturally, Nora ended up spending a lot of time there with Tristan, Ron and Hermione. They mostly played card games and wizard's chess to pass the time while Hermione took the opportunity to catch up on her homework. When Nora offered to give her a hand with it, both Ron and Tristan piggybacked on her generosity and begged for help with a paper on werewolves they were told to write by Snape when he'd filled in for Defence Against the Dark Arts. This confused Nora quite a bit as she had been proof-reading her brother's essays since first year and the last time she checked there were still quite a few chapters left before his class should start studying werewolves.
Harry didn't talk much. He was in terribly low spirits. Not only did he hate being bedridden, but his Nimbus had landed on the Whomping Willow and the vicious tree had mangled the broom beyond repair. They all did their best to cheer him up, however it wasn't easy and they weren't very successful. Nora had a feeling there was something else besides a destroyed broom weighing on his mind.
On Sunday afternoon, she stayed behind after everyone else had left. Sitting beside him on the bed, she studied his tense and morose profile as he stared out the window.
"Knut for your thoughts?" Nora asked, smiling when his glazed eyes focused on her face. Harry visibly hesitated. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"
His shoulders gave with a long exhale. "The last time the dementors showed up, I told you I heard someone screaming before I passed out…"
"I remember," she encouraged gently.
"It happened this time too, but… it was different. I could hear what she was saying — my mother. She was begging Voldemort for my life…" Harry gripped the blanket covering his legs in a tight fist, jaw working oddly. "She died because of me. He said he would spare her if she stepped aside and let him have me, but she didn't."
Nora's chest constricted painfully. She closed her eyes, trying to chase away the scattered memories she had of her own mother's haunting screams. She wished she could take from Harry the pain that came with remembering. Sometimes it was best some things were left forgotten.
"It's my fault she's dead," he choked out.
"No, Harry." Nora covered his shaking fist with her hand. "It's not your fault. How could it be? You were only a baby when the Dark Lord tried to kill you. Of course your mother protected you, of course she gave her life for you. A mother protects her children, it's what they do."
Harry lowered his gaze, but not before Nora saw the tears that had gathered in his eyes. She wanted to hold him, yet was too afraid he would recoil from the gesture at such a vulnerable moment. Harry was a lot like her in the way that he couldn't bare to be pitied. And like her, he had a tendency to store everything to himself — worries, doubts, fears. Nora knew all too well how at times it could all become a little too much, a little too lonely.
"Sometimes I wonder if she's watching me," Harry said in a small voice. "If she regrets giving her life for me… I mean, other than being the Boy-Who-Lived, there's really nothing special about me. I'm not a brilliant student like Hermione, or daring and brave like Tristan… I'm not even funny like Ron, am I?"
For a moment, all she could do was stare. Nora couldn't believe her ears. "Harry," she said his name firmly, almost sternly, making him lift his head and look at her. "Listen to me, and listen carefully. You are a great wizard, an amazing friend, and the most wonderful boy. Your mother and father only have reasons to be proud of you. I'm sure they would tell you so every single day if they were here."
Harry's eyes grew misty again, this time he didn't bother covering them up. Nora tightened her grip on his fingers with a sad smile.
"I know it's not quite the same coming from me… but I'm proud of you too, Harry. I really am. So very proud."
He gave a sort of watery laugh, rubbing his right eye with the heel of his hand. "Tristan has no idea how lucky he's got it. I wish you could've been my sister too."
She was deeply moved by that. It was, in her opinion, the ultimate compliment. "Who says I can't be? Family doesn't need to share blood, you know. I've thought of you as a little brother since probably the first time we met."
"I remember that day," Harry smiled at the memory. "You showed up outside the Gryffindor common room to scold Tris for going to fight a troll on his own. When he argued that he didn't do it on his own, you grabbed both me and Ron by ours ears and told us off too."
"Served you right. Going up against a giant troll when you were barely eleven years old… you didn't even know any defensive magic yet. Really, Harry, what were you boys thinking? You could've gotten yourselves killed."
"Yeah, all right, I've heard the lecture once, don't need to hear it again two years later!"
"Cheeky," she chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his perpetually untidy hair. His spirits seemed to have lifted, which was was a relief.
Not a few minutes later Madam Pomfrey popped by to discharge Harry, who was more than happy to leave the hospital wing. Nora escorted him to the Gryffindor Tower before going back to her own common room. On the way there, she considered taking a detour to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office to see if Professor Lupin was feeling better, but in the end she was too scared. He'd been avoiding her for the past week for reasons that still eluded her. She couldn't bare it if she went there and he sent her away.
"He's back! He's back!" Tristan chanted excitedly as he jogged down the steep path to Hagrid's hut, where Nora had been helping Hagrid with a newly arrived shipment of streelers for his fourth year class all afternoon.
Wiping her sweaty forehead with the back of her wrist, she looked up from where she was crouching in the pumpkin patch just as Tristan reached her. "Who's back?"
"Lupin, obviously! And guess what!"
Her stomach did a little flip. Nora did her best to hide her anxiety, plucking a streeler that was feasting on the leaves of a massive pumpkin and going to deposit it with the others, away from the vegetables.
"I'm out of guesses," she said offhandedly.
"We don't have to write that horrible paper Snape said we had to," Tristan explained, following Nora around with a spring in his step. "Isn't that neat? Lupin said he would talk to Snape about it and everything. Good thing too because it was two bloody rolls of parchment!"
"I helped you with the first half already, seems like a waste not to hand it over," Nora chastised only halfheartedly. "But it was nice of him, I'll admit. Any other teacher wouldn't have bothered, they've got much better things to do than deal with Snape."
"I know, right? I honestly hope he gets the job permanently."
Nora had to smile because Tristan's enthusiasm was so contagious. "You really like him, don't you?"
"Yeah, he's brilliant!"
"Who is?" asked Hagrid as he was coming from behind his hut with a large box in his arms.
"Professor Lupin." Tristan bounced over to the giant, eager to see what was in the box. Hagrid lowered it to his height, letting him poke his head inside. "More snails? How many of them are there?"
"They're streelers, not snails," Nora corrected. "And don't touch them with your bare hands, the slime's poisonous."
Tristan immediately bolted upright. He took a step back from Hagrid and the box, shoving his hands in his pockets as though to better keep them safe. Hagrid coughed a rough laugh. In three wide strides, he crossed the distance to the small patch of dirt where the streelers Nora was looking after were happily resting and released the ones in the box. Half a dozen giant snails glowed brightly, shifting colours like one big, pretty kaleidoscope.
"Yeh've taken to Lupin then, eh? Doesn't surprise me, couple o' troublemakers like yeh two."
Nora's head whipped around so fast it very nearly snapped. "Professor Lupin? A troublemaker?"
"Oh aye," Hagrid said, putting away the box and grabbing some dragonskin gloves, a giant pair for himself and a smaller one for Tristan. "He an' his friends used t' turn this castle upside down every year. Famous fer it, they were. Never met a more rowdy lot myself in all my years here."
Tristan dropped his jaw in the middle of putting his gloves on. "You're joking!"
"Swear on me life. Just ask Professor McGonagall, she could fill a book with stories 'bout them."
"I guess I can see that," Nora mused out loud. It wasn't hard at all to picture a younger Professor Lupin who enjoyed partaking in an occasional bit of mischief. He kept his sly nature skilfully tucked away, but she had seen it come out to play more than once when they were alone — the roguish smile, the witty teasing, the cool air of confidence.
"I suspect Dumbledore made him a Prefect hopin' he'd keep his mates in check," Hagrid spoke as he lowered to his knees and started working on collecting the poisonous slime produced by the streelers. "But no such luck, only managed ter give them another weapon in their favour. They got even worse after that."
"You've never used your Prefect status to help me cause trouble," Tristan said to Nora with a slight hint of resentment.
"Saved you from quite a few detentions with Filch, didn't I?" Nora quipped back without stopping what she was doing.
"You're my sister, aren't you? You're supposed to do that."
"As your sister I have an obligation to make sure you behave yourself, not bail you out every time you wreak havoc around school."
"I think you have that backwards..."
Hagrid coughed another gruff laugh. Smiling under his bushy beard, he asked Tristan to help him feed the streelers. Creatures were always a sure way to distract Tristan, even if those creatures happened to be giant snails that weren't particularly fun or exciting.
Once the streelers had had their fill, they gathered them all back in their boxes so they wouldn't slither off into the woods in the middle of the night. Afterwards, upon Tristan's insistence on introducing Nora to his new hippogriff friend, Hagrid took them to the paddock at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Bronzequill was a very sweet hippogriff who was quite obviously in love with Tristan. Every time he stopped paying attention to her, she would peck at his hair and nudge him in the head, demanding affection.
They stayed until dark, playing around with Bronzequill and trying to cheer up a depressed Buckbeak. Then, Hagrid invited them for a giant-sized cup of tea and some rock cakes he had baked that morning. Hagrid's rock cakes were a bit of a dental hazard, but Nora and Tristan never had the heart to turn them down. Having had much experience with Hagrid's cooking, they dipped the cakes in their warm tea to soften the rock-like consistency before daring a bite.
Hagrid's hut always gave Nora the distinct impression of coziness. Perhaps because it was small and crowded with large furniture, or maybe it was the wear and tear of wood from Fangs's teething phase when he was a pup and the scorch marks from the time Hagrid decided it was a good idea to raise a dragon. It felt like a well-lived home, and Nora loved places like that. A bit of clutter here and there, some mismatched pieces or other knickknacks to suit a person's taste, small imperfections which, to her, only added to the charm.
Whatever house she decided to buy after school would be exactly like Hagrid's. Imperfect, yet tailored to her.
It was torture, truly excruciating torture, to see Nora in class or sitting at her table in the Great Hall. Even catching the fleetest glimpse of her in the hallways was gut-wrenching when Remus knew he had to keep his distance. It didn't help that Nora was exceptionally frank with her emotions. She couldn't hide anything, it was all plain to see on her face — the confusion, the sadness… the betrayal. That was perhaps what bothered him the most. He could only imagine the awful thoughts going through her head after he had gained her trust and told her they were friends only to then pull away.
But what other choice was there? He hadn't meant for his feelings to run wild. He'd been careless, weak against his own selfish desires. No matter how many times he reminded himself it was wrong, that nothing should or could come of it, he quite simply adored Nora. He woke up every morning eager to see her smile, looked forward to those short moments before class when they could spend time away from everyone, when he could watch her pretty eyes light up with enthusiasm, or see her cheeks flush when he teased her.
Remus couldn't remember ever thinking of a woman as often or as intensely he thought of Nora, not even as a young boy. There had been crushes, physical attraction, maybe even some infatuation, but he was always very cautious about keeping relationships light and casual. There was never room for something more; there couldn't be. But he was too old for crushes, and his fondness for Nora greatly surpassed whatever momentary attraction he might've had in the past. It terrified him to feel so passionately for someone so young. Nora was nearly half his age — a student still, with her whole life ahead of her. A promising life, to which there wasn't a thing he could add. He had no money, and his house was slowly coming apart. His job was a blessing but he wasn't naive enough to believe it would last.
And lest we forget, there was also the irrevocable fact that he was a werewolf. He was damaged beyond repair because of his condition. It wouldn't be fair to put Nora through his demons and the harsh stigma of society for associating herself with a monster.
"What the devil am I thinking?" Remus asked out loud in his empty office, where he had been correcting first year essays about gnomes for the past two hours. Or trying to, as his mind was proving highly uncooperative.
Resting on the left end of his desk, curled in a fluffy ball, Ophelia raised her head and blinked her intelligent mismatched eyes at him.
"I don't even know why I'm worrying about what I can or can't give her," he said, dropping his chin to his hand with a sigh. "Nora wouldn't want anything to do with a shabby man like me. Such a beautiful, clever girl... she can take her pick of the lot, can't she? It's not like Hogwarts is short on strapping young men for her to chose from."
Ophelia voiced her opinion with an indignant meow. Remus chuckled, scratching her behind her large ears. It was nice having company, he thought. Cats weren't the sort of familiar he was generally inclined to, however Ophelia had a very sweet disposition and she seemed to enjoy being around him. Some nights she would even sleep at the foot of his bed, though that didn't happen very often. He imagined Ophelia would much rather sleep with Nora.
Remus sighed again, "I miss her…"
Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough. By the time he walked into his classroom to teach his seventh year class, he was as nervous and excited as a teenager about to see the prettiest girl in school. Unfortunately, as he sat at his desk counting each second while his heart thumped hard in anticipation, it soon became apparent that Nora wouldn't be showing up early that morning. Serves me right, Remus thought bitterly. He'd given Nora the cold shoulder the whole week, why would she bother coming early just to spend time with him?
Ten minutes later, he'd given up waiting. Trying to ignore the disappointment, he busied himself by reviewing his plans for the lesson, going over his notes, once, twice, raking his fingers though his hair while stealing glances at the door, as though willing it to open with his mind. Finally, it did, letting in the first few students.
The Crowley twins arrived without Nora, and he frowned slightly because they were always together. But he didn't have to wonder long. Right behind Andrew Darling, Nora was laughing at something Caito Dearborn had told her. Seeing them side by side, Remus, not for the first time, thought they looked straight out of a black and white picture — Nora with her classical beauty and Caito with his cool and effortless good-looks. Yet again, Remus felt a twinge of disappointment. Or perhaps a stab would be more accurate a term as it sliced right through his ego without mercy.
Watching her through stolen glances while collecting all his papers, he saw Nora's gaze linger over him as she took her usual seat beside Emma.
"Well then," Remus said, clearing his throat as he made his way to the front of the classroom, clapping his hands together. "I would like to give you all two minutes to complain about Professor Snape so we can get it out of the way and move on with our lesson."
There was a brief pause before everyone started speaking at the same time. With an amused smile, Remus listened to complaints about boring monologues and having to write ten pages on Unforgivable Curses, plus ten more for homework. Precisely two minutes later, after a quick peek at his watch, he raised his hand to stop them.
"Time's up, I'm afraid. But let me assure you, I've no need for another stack of essays about Unforgivable Curses on my desk. For those of you who have already finished, I will naturally accept them, however if you haven't then please don't bother, what I have from last class is more than enough."
Several students expressed their relief, including Emma Crowley who pumped her fist in the air with a loud "yes!", causing the rest of the class to laugh.
"The enthusiasm is much appreciated, Miss Crowley," Remus nodded his head at a tooth-grinning Emma. "Seeing as we're already on the topic, shall we delve into the study of fire curses today? Who can tell me..."
As he paced around the classroom, he was acutely aware of Nora's gaze on him, following each of his moments. Made it harder for him to concentrate. It was even worse whenever their eyes met — her eyes were like water, sweeping him under, drowning him in their depths. Every time he would walk past her desk and smell the subtle notes of jasmine in her perfume, he had to physically drag himself to the other side of the room. But before he knew it, there he was again. It was torture to be near her... torture to be away from her.
When the bell rang, Remus returned to his desk. A few students did do Snape's homework assignment so he worked on organising those while everyone began to file out. Everyone except Nora. Her quiet footsteps sounded loud in the now silent classroom as she slowly walked up to him.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked, playing with the strap of her bag, anxiety rolling off her in tangible waves.
Breathing in deeply, he forced himself to smile. "Do I really look so awful that it warrants the question?"
"What? No, of course not," Nora said in a rush, stepping forward, then thinking twice about it and halting, keeping the distance. She chewed on her lip. "Actually... you do look a little worse for wear. I wanted to stop by after I heard you were sick, but I didn't want to bother you…"
"You could never bother me, Nora." With a sigh, Remus stuffed his papers in his briefcase, closed it and sat back, dragged a hand down his tired face. "In all honesty, I'm exhausted. My head's been killing me all weekend, and there's a mountain of work I've yet to see to. I couldn't have picked a more inconvenient time to fall ill."
"I could help you." Nora clenched the strap on her shoulder nervously. He eyed the gesture before flickering his eyes back up to her face with surprise. "Professor Flitwick had me doing some tutoring last year when students started failing because they were too scared of the Basilisk. Not to brag, but I did really well. I can handle OWL level quizzes and essays."
"Oh, I don't doubt your skill, Miss Head Girl. Never have." Nora flushed with the teasing, making him chuckle. Remus quirked his head to the side, considering the offer. "If you're willing, I won't deny that I could use the help. Maybe not today, I don't think I'm in any condition. Tomorrow after dinner?"
Nora smiled brightly. It lasted a second before her enthusiasm was visibly dampened. "I can't." Several emotions played out on her face, from uncomfortable to embarrassed. "I've got detention with Professor Snape all week."
He raised his eyebrows. "Do my ears deceive me or did I just hear you say you have detention?"
"Yes, with Professor Snape," she repeated grimly.
"Why?" Remus asked, failing at keeping the laughter from his voice. He saw the face she pulled and laughed out loud, raising his hands when she fixed him with a withering look. "Forgive me, but even you have to admit it is quite funny. Have you ever had to serve detention before?"
Nora crossed her arms and tilted her chin with an attitude he thought adorable. "If you must know, no — I haven't. Seven years of impeccable student record gone down the drain. You can't imagine the amount of goading I've had to endure so far. He failed last year because he didn't have any proof that I'd stolen from him, but this time he finally found plausible grounds."
"And what grounds were those?" Remus stood from his chair and made his way around the table so it didn't stand between them anymore. He leaned against it, hands tucked in his pockets. "Why did Professor Snape give you detention?"
"Doesn't matter, really..."
Her evasive answer made Remus frown. "Was it because of me? Did he say something to you?"
"Like I said, it doesn't matter," Nora repeated, still refusing to meet his gaze. "Anyway, I should go. I'm already late for Herbology."
"Wait—" He moved before she could leave, grabbing her by the elbow a little too hard and she ended up spinning straight into his chest. His other hand found the arch of her back, then, out of its own accord, dipped lower, down the curve of her waist. He'd held her like this once before, that day when they went to the Forbidden Forest. She was smaller than he remembered, more delicate, so soft and warm in his arms. He couldn't help but feel like he didn't have any right holding something that was so lovely, not when he was so rough and calloused, so deeply flawed.
Overcome with self-consciousness, Remus let go of Nora abruptly. "I'm sorry." He swallowed, drawing a shaky breath, flexed his fingers to shake off the feeling of her, the ache to touch her again. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."
"It's okay." She tucked a curl behind her ear, looking up at him from under long, thick lashes. "I thought you were mad at me…"
A humourless laugh erupted from his mouth. "No, Nora, I'm not mad."
"I'm relieved." Her voice was soft and earnest, and when she brought a hand to his arm, Remus thought his heart might explode right out of his chest. "Friday's my last detention. Can I come over Saturday? We could have lunch together like last time while I help you with your work."
Nora had yet to move out of his personal space and he couldn't think with her so close, staring at him with those sea-goddess eyes of hers. The same jasmine notes, a smell that was distinctively her, clouded his mind like mist, sweet and subtle, instilling in him a mix of shame and furious want. He stopped breathing altogether, but it was too late; her spell had already weaved its web.
Like in a trance, he nodded. With a smile as bright as the sun, she squeezed his arm lightly, lingering there with her hand for a second that was far too long not too mean something.
When Nora finally left the classroom, Remus felt his whole body deflate, tired and heavy, yet at the same time very alive with a sort of thrill that worried him. Frustrated, he pinched the bridge of his nose, beating himself up for his deplorable lack of willpower.
After the game, Tristan saw Luna everywhere. At the Ravenclaw table with her nose stuck in her weird magazine. In the courtyard, leaning over the railing while staring off into the distance or down at the lake. Once, he even passed by her on his way to Charms when she was curled in the window seat watching the rain fall. In all these instances, every single one of them, he'd wanted to walk up and talk to her, but always lost his nerve at the last second. He tried to remind himself that he was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindor was the house of the brave. But there was something quite nerve-racking about approaching a girl who was always lost in her own little world.
He saw her again over lunch on Wednesday. Even wearing the same uniform as every other student in school, Luna stood out from the masses like shimmering starlight. Long pale hair swept over the shoulder, she played with the curly tips as she pushed around the food on her plate, much too distracted with her reading to eat. No one was sitting with her, Tristan noticed with a frown. In fact, he couldn't remember ever seeing her with friends. She was always alone.
A hand suddenly blocked his view.
"Tris, are you listening to me? What're you looking at?"
"Nothing," he said quickly before Hermione turned in her seat to search for the source of his distraction. "What were you saying? Something about planets?"
Hermione eyed him sort of exasperatedly. "I was saying we should get started on our birth charts for Divination this afternoon, seeing as we don't have any more classes."
"And why should we do that?" Tristan lifted his goblet for a sip, keeping watch over the Ravenclaw table from the corner of his eye. "Divination's a waste of time."
"Well yes," she agreed, looking a little sad about admitting that any class could be a waste of time. "It's still a class, though, and I'd like to pass with flying colours."
"Wouldn't hurt you to slack off a bit sometimes."
"It's like you don't know who you're talking to," Ron quipped in between mouthfuls of kidney pie.
"I've already got mine started—" Tristan and Ron elbowed each other, silently making fun of her, but Hermione ignored them. "If we go to the library afterwards, I can get it finished and give you a hand with yours."
Tristan raised his eyebrows at that. "You're feeling generous today."
"Yeah," said Harry, who was sitting next to her. "Not two days ago you refused to help us with our History of Magic homework."
"Because you wanted to copy off mine," Hermione explained matter-of-factly. "I'm offering hand, not a handout. We'd be doing the work together…"
Tristan stopped listening when he noticed a certain pale-haired girl exiting the Great Hall. Hastily, he wolfed down the rest of his food, pushed away his empty plate, grabbed his bag.
"Sounds grand," he told his friends distractedly as he was springing to his feet. "I'll meet up with you guys at the library. See you later!"
Luna was halfway down the path to the boathouse by the time Tristan finally caught up to her. Not entirely sure why she was straying so far from the castle, he trailed behind her at a safe distance while pondering how to go about approaching her without coming off as weird. Then, about five minutes later, he realised it was probably weird enough that he was following a girl who wasn't even his friend.
Feeling like a total creep, Tristan whirled around on his heels.
"If you're going to chase me, you should at least have the decency to see it through." The sound of her dreamy voice jolted him like an electrical current.
Redhanded, he rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile and slowly walked back to Luna, who, much to his relief, looked curious rather than angry. A sneaky sunbeam filtered through the clouds, making her hair glow like a silvery halo around her face.
"Sorry," Tristan chuckled nervously. "Dunno why I did that. I don't normally chase people around…"
"I hope not, some might not like it very much." He blurted another nervous chuckle. Luna tilted her head, studying him for an awfully long time. Finally, she blinked like an owl and gestured for him to follow her. "Let me show you something."
Excited, Tristan skipped along.
They did go all the way to the boathouse, but she led him around the building and down the small valley dipping toward the lake. The foliage around the shore was dewy from the spray of water, the air thick with woodsy smells, of moist earth and pine needles. He followed her over a large dead log and could've died of embarrassment when he nearly face-planted because his foot slipped on some moss.
Not too far from the water, Luna fell to her knees clawing at the earth. Tristan furrowed his eyebrows. "What're you doing?"
"You'll see," she replied cryptically without faltering in her digging. A minute later, she moved aside to reveal a large egg.
"Woah!" His eyes went wide with wonder as he too dropped to his knees beside Luna to have a closer look. It was about the size of a bowling ball, green in colour, with a golden tint all around. "It's a kelpie egg!"
"I tripped over it a while ago," she explained. "The kelpie mama must've been interrupted when she was laying and didn't have time to hide it, so I buried it here. I've been checking on it every day."
Tristan placed a hand on the egg, feeling its rugged leathery shell and the warmth emanating from underneath. "It's nearly ready to hatch. I'd say about two more weeks or so."
"How can you tell?"
He jerked his shoulders. "Can't explain it, I just do."
Luna sat back on her heels to watch him as he worked on burying the egg once more. "So it's true, then? You can really speak to creatures."
"Well..." Tristan patted the dirt off his hands, sending her a cheeky smile. "They mostly speak to me and I sort of listen."
"You're an Animus." She sounded genuinely impressed. "They're extremely rare. It's passed out through bloodlines, I think. Is Nora one too?"
"I guess so, but she doesn't hear them quite as clearly as I do. She says it's more like an awareness… like she can sense what they're feeling or what they want," Tristan explained, watching Luna curiously. "Animus, is it? I'd never heard that term before. Where did you find it?"
"Dad's read to me about them. But there's a bit of speculation whether Animus wizards and Anima witches are real or not." She looked a little annoyed right then. "Hard to prove one can talk to those who can't talk back, isn't it?"
"Just because something can't be proved doesn't mean it isn't real."
Luna beamed brightly, "I think so too!"
Her pretty smile made Tristan's heart stutter. Trying to keep it cool, he rose to his feet and offered to help her up. Her hand was much smaller than his, much colder too, like an icicle.
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "Are you cold?" Luna shook her head. "You sure? Your fingers are freezing, I'm surprised you haven't lost any of them yet."
When he brought both of her hands close to his mouth and blew hot air over her icy fingers, Luna's silver eyes flittered over his face like two starry diamonds. "Feels nice," she said after a while.
Tristan smiled from behind their hands as he continued to warm them with his breath. "Nora used to do this for me when I was little. She said our mum did it for her too."
"How old were you?" Luna asked, not cautiously or with pity, only plainly, like someone asking about the weather. He liked that she did that.
"She was five, I was one. You?"
"Nine." A tiny crease appeared in Luna's forehead, between her eyebrows. "Do you think the kelpie momma's waiting for her baby in the lake? Or do you think she's forgotten all about him?"
"She couldn't have, could she? I mean, it's her baby — no matter where she is or how long it's been, there's no way she would ever forget him…" Tristan felt a sudden, unexpected lump of emotion lodge itself in his throat.
Swallowing dryly, he let Luna's hands fall to her sides, stuffed his in his pockets, and stepped back so he was facing the Black Lake. He heard the rustling of dirt and branches under her light feet when she came to stand next to him. He glanced at her sideways. Her expression was hauntingly serene, her snowy hair fluttering in the cool wind.
"I hope my mum remembers me too," Luna's voice came out quiet, barely more than a whisper. "Wherever she is… whether she's watching over me or not… I hope she thinks of me."
"I'm sure she does," Tristan said quietly too. "Maybe she's with my mum and they're really good friends. Maybe they sit around in heaven laughing and talking about us."
Luna turned her head slightly toward him. "That's a wonderful thought."
"Yeah..." He heaved a sad sigh, watching the spread of dark and still waters. "Do you believe in that stuff? Heaven, I mean. Do you believe it's really out there?"
"I don't know, but I like to think good people have a nice place waiting for them after they leave this world. Don't you?"
He smiled softly. No one had ever talked to him about death so openly or plainly before. Most people found it very uncomfortable, including his friends, and with Nora it was his own choice to avoid the topic as he knew it brought to her a lot of sadness. It was nice finding someone so matter-of-fact about life.
Tristan cleared his throat, nudging his head toward the large dead log, "Wanna stay here for a bit? I'll walk you back to your common room later."
Luna considered him for a moment before nodding. Feeling strangely giddy that she'd said yes, Tristan sat next to her and prayed he wouldn't make fool of himself in front of someone he really, really wanted as a friend.
Okay, guys, so the kelpie egg and everything related to it is of my own creation, there isn't much information about kelpie reproduction. And also the terms Animus and Anima are also my creations. It kind of made sense to me that Luna would know a little about Tristan and Nora's ability to talk to creatures since she enjoys all things different and unique.
I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! As usual, let me know your thoughts!
