Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline
"I Hold the Moon"
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"I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.
At night I dream of him, all day I wait to see him,
and when I do see him my heart turns over and I think I will faint with desire."
- The Other Boleyn Girl, Philippa Gregory
OF LOVE AND WOLVES
For three days, Nora hid under the covers of her bed. Every time her tears finally stopped, another wave of immense sadness crashed and she was crying all over again. She cried until she felt like her eyes had gone dry. The strain made her head pound viciously. Hunger didn't help. It drained away most of her energy, made her weak to the point that even moving to the bathroom proved exhausting. Both Emma and Penelope would bring food after dinner and try to have her have some, but it was pointless, she couldn't eat.
Nora couldn't sleep either, not properly. Her dreams were a kind of bittersweet torture. One minute she was back in that small, dark alcove, cradled in Lupin's gentle embrace, his face in her hand, his lips so close to meeting hers... and the next she was staring at his back, unable to reconcile the passion she had felt from him with the man who recoiled from her touch and called their friendship, all those wonderful, tender moments, a mistake. It was unbearable — the shame, the rejection… the gut-wrenching, heart-splitting realisation that she wasn't, nor would ever be, good enough.
Around the third day, Julia came into the room. She set a plate of sandwiches on the nightstand and, after taking off her shoes, slithered under the covers next to Nora.
"Did Liam send you up here?" Nora asked, rubbing the heel of her hand over her right eye, lacking even the strength to be embarrassed by her deplorable state. Her voice was rough and scratched.
"He's worried," Julia said gently. "We all are. Why won't you leave bed? Did something happen with Lupin? He's not doing so well either…"
Hearing his name was like pouring salt over a wound, and Nora buried her face in her pillow to stifle a helpless sob. Slightly panicked, Julia fumbled her arms around her, drawing her close and rubbing circles over her quivering back. Once she'd calmed down, Julia tried to figure out what happened, but Nora couldn't bear to express it into words no matter how desperately she wanted to pour her heart out, if only to alleviate the heavy burden that had settled there. All she could really tell Julia was that she felt like her heart was breaking.
Even so, despite that, Julia's presence did help restore some balance to Nora. She managed a few bites off one of the sandwiches while listening to Julia complain about Quidditch practice before her queasy stomach decided no more. Julia made her promise to finish the rest later, then moved on with the conversation, telling Nora about a rumour she'd heard that Celia was going out with some fifth year girl from Hufflepuff.
"It's only rumour, though, isn't it?" Nora hugged her legs to her chest and rested her cheek on her knees, studying Julia's forlorn form. "I doubt it's true, Celia hasn't dated anyone in a while. But there's always the chance she might, of course. Unless you ask her out first?"
"I'm working my way up to it," Julia muttered weakly.
Nora shook her head. "You've been working your way up to it for the last two years, Jules. Hell will freeze over before you actually get it done. What are you afraid of?"
Sighing, Julia scooted down on the mattress and fell back against the pillows, arms crossed behind her head as she studied the beams on the ceiling. "How about looking like a pathetic sap because I can't string two bloody sentences together whenever I talk to her? Seems a pretty brilliant reason to me."
"Celia wouldn't see you as a sap." Nora brushed her fingers softly over the crease on Julia's forehead. "If she does, then she's a fool. I think it's sweet that you get nervous, means you care about her."
"Never thought about it like that," Julia mused out loud, rolling her eyes up to meet Nora's with a smile. "Wasn't I supposed to be comforting you?"
Nora shrugged, smiling a little too.
Hours later, long after Julia had left, she managed to drag herself into the shower. The jag of hot water increased her headache, but Nora felt steadier, purged of tears. As promised, she made an effort to eat a bit more, then snuck back into bed and prayed sleep wouldn't be plagued with nightmares or sweet, tortuous dreams.
The next morning Nora rose early. As she was putting on her uniform, Emma woke up and saw her standing in front of the mirror. They eyed each other for a moment before Emma hurled off the bed and threw her arms around Nora's neck. Nora chuckled, hugging Emma back.
Liam was waiting for them in the common room. He wasn't one for great displays of affection like his sister, but the way his face lit up more than made up for it. Nora bumped his shoulder as they headed out, mouthing a silent thanks when he glanced down at her. He shook his head, bumped her right back.
Her first class of the day was Transfiguration, which was good because Professor McGonagall liked to work her students hard and the work kept Nora's head occupied. Sadly, there was only so much distraction could do. As minutes flew by, a mix of emotions began to brew inside her, a bubbling mixture of nerves and anxiety and, most of all, dread. The prospect of facing Lupin when everything was still so recent, when she was still so sliced open and vulnerable, was frankly terrifying.
"Miss Cavanaugh," Professor McGonagall called as Nora was putting away her things. Nervously, she shuffled over to McGonagall's desk and squirmed under the woman's penetrating stare. "I'm glad you're feeling better, but you are still very pale. Have you gone to see Madam Pomfrey?"
"I will, ma'am. Later today."
McGonagall nodded, "Please do. Let me know if there's anything you need."
Nora uttered a quick "thanks", touched by McGonagall's concern, yet too embarrassed to say much else.
On the way to Defence Against the Dark Arts, she honestly thought she was going to be sick. For a second she considered skiving class again, but Julia squeezed her hand and gave her a nudge for encouragement before walking off in the opposite direction. Without much of a choice, Nora followed the twins. Man up, she told herself, you can't avoid him forever…
Professor Lupin was already inside the classroom using magic to push desks and chairs aside. He hardly acknowledged their arrival except to mumble a distracted greeting. Nora, on the other hand, couldn't seem to take her eyes off him. Julia hadn't lied; he did look terrible. Pale and gaunt, as though he hadn't eaten a proper meal or had a good night's sleep in days. Could he have been beating himself up over what happened? Agonising over it like she had?
No way, Nora decided, gaze dropping to her shoes. He'd made evidently clear that whatever had happened between them was nothing but a mistake.
"All right, class," Lupin said, sounding every bit as tired as he looked. "Let's continue practicing the Patronus Charm, shall we? Afterwards we can revise yesterday's exercises. Some of you could do with a brush up on the more theoretical topics."
They scattered around the classroom in small groups to work. As Caito strode past her, Nora ducked her head and pretended to struggle with her shirt's cufflink button. She could feel the weight of his stare as it burned holes right through her skull. Between Caito and Lupin, she didn't how much more humiliation she could handle.
Everyone seemed to have made progress with casting a Patronus. Liam, especially, was very close to producing a fully corporeal one. Nora could almost make out some sort of bird from the cloud of shimmering smoke that poured from his wand. It gave her enough incentive to try one more time, even if she was fairly sure it was hopeless at that point. Something was clearly wrong with her memories.
She heard Professor Lupin laughing somewhere in the room. The warm, familiar sound was a balm to her bruised heart. She loved his laugh, how it rippled through the air and rumbled deeply in her belly. And she loved his smile, so quick and effortless. The way he tugged at his tie or raked his fingers through his tousled hair when he was nervous. The way he hummed quietly to the music when he was concentrating on his work. His gaze… his voice… his touch on her face, on her neck, on her hair…
The wind was suddenly knocked out of her lungs. She loved him — she loved Lupin. An overwhelming sense of happiness bloomed in Nora's chest, a sort of happiness she had never felt before. And holding on to that feeling, to all those wonderful memories of a man she had fallen irrevocably in love with, she closed her eyes, raised her wand and uttered the incantation in a breathless whisper.
Some tingling sparked in her fingers, then spread over her hand and up her arm. When Nora opened her eyes again, she saw that a stream of light had shot from the tip of her wand. It slowly begun to take shape. Four legs. Two ears. A muzzle.
"Nora, you did it!" Liam exclaimed excitedly.
Next to him, Emma was tilting her head sideways curiously. "Is it a dog?"
"No," Nora breathed without tearing her eyes from the beautiful silver creature now standing proudly in front of her. "It's a wolf."
As though the sound of her voice was all it had been waiting for, the wolf tossed its massive head back and a piercing howl shook the room, making a few of her classmates jump a little. Excited, Nora searched for Professor Lupin, found him frozen by the window, staring at the wolf like it was some sort of horrendous beast. His face had gone ashen, completely devoid of colour, ten times more so than it was before. As their eyes met, she saw in them real panic before he collected himself.
Lupin cleared his throat, putting on a tense, forced smile. "Excellent work, Nora. Twenty points for Ravenclaw."
"Thanks, professor," Nora said, blushing faintly. He nodded, barely, and flinched when the wolf brushed past him as it went galloping around the room. She was so confused. Why wasn't he happy about her Patronus? Why did he look so horrified by it when it was so absolutely beautiful?
"I sorta thought he'd be more thrilled," Emma mused, gazing thoughtfully after Lupin. "I mean you're his first student to produce a Patronus — a fully corporeal one at that. And you couldn't even manage some smoke like us. How'd you do it?"
"Not sure." Nora raised her hand and brushed it over her wolf's head, giggling when he gave a playful yip, taking to skipping circles around her instead. "But isn't he about the most wonderful thing you've ever seen?"
"Anything that makes you smile like that is wonderful," Liam agreed with a bright smile, offering his hand out for the wolf to sniff before petting it too. "You're right, though, he's pretty cute. Can't wait to see what mine's going to be!"
Nora was also curious to see Liam's Patronus. "You're nearly there. Maybe think of something you love, something that makes you heart beat really fast, in a really good way."
Liam considered the advice. He eyed Nora sideways and she gave him a thumbs-up for encouragement. The tips of his ears turned crimson, but as he readied his wand, he did so with much determination. He uttered the spell and and once a large bird flew from his wand with a gurgling croak, soaring above their heads. Nora's wolf barked in obvious joy, darting around the room once more to chase his new friend.
"See? I knew you could do it too!" Nora threw her arms around Liam's neck. He staggered with surprise, wriggling his arms around her by instinct. "You conjured a Patronus! It's a raven, Liam!"
It finally seemed to dawn on him that he had, in fact, conjured a fully corporeal Patronus and he burst out laughing, lifting Nora off the ground and spinning with her in circles.
"Congratulations, Liam," Professor Lupin said, sending Liam a far more genuine smile once they had settled down. "Two Patronuses in one lesson — I'm extremely proud. Well done, both of you. Twenty more points for Ravenclaw."
Emma crossed her arms with a pout. "Lucky bastards. Just you watch, professor, I'll do it next!"
"I'm positive you will, Emma," Lupin chuckled good-naturedly, eyes flickering briefly toward Nora, then over to the wolf playing around with Liam's raven. "Let's continue Friday, yes? I think we should use whatever time we have left today to take a look at those exercises…"
There was a lot of groaning and complaining from everyone in class as they dragged the tables back to place, but Nora and Liam were so happy about their accomplishments it couldn't have mattered any less to them if they spent the rest of the week reviewing exercises.
"Is it true?" Tristan asked excitedly, squeezing into the bench beside Nora the next morning. "Did you really conjure a Patronus in Lupin's class yesterday? Like an actual, proper Patronus?"
Nora grinned proudly, "I did, yes. An actual, proper one."
"So did I," Liam added in, making Tristan's eyes sparkle.
"That's so wicked! Can you show it to me?"
"Maybe later." Nora drank some orange juice, set the goblet down. She took a minute to consider wether to eat something, in the end deciding she wasn't hungry. "Do you still need help with your Charms assignment?"
"Oh! Yes, please!"
The mail flew in as Tristan was reaching inside his bag. As usual Emma and Liam's barn owl swooped over their table to deliver news from Granny Rose. Neither Tristan nor Nora paid much attention since they rarely ever received any letters. That's why they didn't notice the black crested owl until it landed right on top of Tristan's parchment.
"Is that…" Tristan swallowed, watching the bird and the blood-red envelope dangling from its beak warily.
Nora's insides were frozen with dread. Half terrified, she reached for the envelope.
"Nora, no!" Liam stopped her hand urgently. "Just send it back."
"I can't send it back," Nora argued, snatching the letter and just narrowly avoiding the mean owl from nipping at her fingers before it flew away. With quivering hands, she broke the seal, slid the paper from inside and immediately recognised her fathers handwriting.
You and your brother are expected home for the holidays.
Your grandmother has arranged for a party to be thrown at the manor in order to present you to society. Fail to be at the station on the 19th of December and I will personally go to that castle and drag you back to this house. You know I will.
— Maximus Aurelius Cavanaugh
Nora stared at the letter, one hand over her mouth. Good thing she'd decided not to eat anything because if she had, it would've surely been on its way up around now.
"What does it say?"
Nora heard the edge in her brother's voice. It was all she needed to pull herself together. With far more bravado than she definitely had in her, she shredded the paper and set the bits on fire with a snap of her fingers.
"It says we've got to go back for Christmas," Nora told Tristan. Seeing horror take over his face, she did her best to put on a brave, reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'm going by myself. He won't care if you're not there."
"You've got to be joking!" Liam bristled.
"You're not going back, Nora," Emma protested in similar fashion, looking at Nora like she'd gone insane.
Nora kept her face neutral. "I have to."
"If you're going, then I'm going," Tristan declared, his shoulders squared resolutely.
"This isn't up to discussion," Nora said firmly. To further make her point, she grabbed his assignment to continue working on it. He yanked it back not a second later. She heaved a long sigh, "Tristan…"
"Shut up," he hissed hotly. Nora raised her eyebrows at the tone. "I'm not letting you go back there on your own. There's nothing you can do to stop me."
"I can tell McGonagall not to put your name down on the list," Nora replied sharply.
"What? No, you can't!"
"Yes, I can!"
They had both raised their voices and the noise was rapidly drawing attention, several heads turning their way.
"You can't make those kinds of decisions for me!" Tristan snapped again.
"Of course, I can — I'm your sister!"
"Exactly! My sister, not my fucking mum!"
Everything around them seemed to suddenly plunge into silence. Nora pressed her mouth shut, staring at her brother — his angry scowl, the closed fists. He hadn't said it to hurt her, she knew that, but all her life she'd tried her hardest to protect him. Everything she did or didn't do was always with his wellbeing in mind. He was the most important thing in the world to her. So when he said things like that, even though he didn't mean them, it still hurt. It hurt all the way to her soul.
Teeth gritted tight, Nora turned away, letting Tristan know she was done with the conversation. A second later he was furiously packing away his things, hurling off his seat and storming out of the Great Hall.
"Are you okay?" Liam asked, eyeing Nora worriedly.
"Yeah," Emma said softly. "That was sort of brutal…"
Nora shrugged without looking at her friends. She could already feel tears starting to sting in her eyes. God, she was just so tired of crying...
Tristan stormed through the corridors in a blind haze of fury. He was so angry — at everything. His father for being cruel and abusive even though they'd never done anything to deserve it. His grandmother who had never given two cents about her grandchildren. His sister because she was going to end up dead trying to shelter him. And most of all, Tristan was angry at himself for putting that sad, wounded look on her face, for being weak and pathetic and making her feel like she was responsible for carrying everything on her shoulders.
Nora wasn't his mom, but she was the closest thing he'd ever had to one. The only thing. No more than a child herself, she had fed him, bathed him, put him to sleep, sometimes been up whole nights caring for him when he fell ill. It was Nora who taught Tristan how to tie his shoes, how to ride a broom, how to write down his own name. She would make a point to pin up on her bedroom wall every stupid drawing he made for her. And all these things, she had done while dealing with her own troubles, her own grief. Nora was his anchor, his first hero, the one person who never failed him in a world that did nothing but let him down. And she was wasting away before his eyes without him being able to stop it.
In a surge of absolute helpless rage, Tristan threw a punch at the wall. Then howled with pain as the skin on his knuckles split open. "Son ova—!"
The throbbing pain didn't stop him. In fact, it only set him off. Tristan dropped his bag on the floor, kicking viciously at the rock wall, throwing his harrowing frustration into the assault. He lost notion of his surroundings, vision clouding at the edges, blood gushing to his head, ringing in his ears. When something suddenly grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, he flailed his arms by instinct, ready to defend himself.
A large hand closed around his wrist. "Tristan, it's me. Calm down."
Professor Lupin's firm voice penetrated through the red mist of rage and brought Tristan some clarity. He drew back quickly, body trembling with adrenaline. The sound of his jagged breathing echoed in the dead silence of the corridor. No one else was around. Thank Merlin, Tristan thought. The last thing he needed was an audience for his mental breakdown.
Conscious of Lupin's stare, and deeply, deeply ashamed, Tristan fumbled clumsily with his blood-splattered shirt, trying to straighten it at least a little. He winced when sharp pain shot through his hand.
"You're bleeding," Lupin said calmly.
Tristan curled his fingers in a fist, ignoring the sting and hiding it behind his back. "It's fine," he muttered.
Lupin's looked down at him skeptically. "Why don't we go to my office and I can have a look at it? I'll write Professor Binns a note excusing you from class."
Tempting as the chance to skip Binns's boring lecture was, Tristan hesitated, knowing well Lupin would want to discuss what he had just seen transpire.
"I'm afraid it's either my office or to the hospital wing with you," Lupin added upon sensing Tristan's reluctance. "Your choice. But fair warning, Madam Pomfrey will likely chastise you far worse than I would for punching a wall."
"Your office sounds good." Lesser of two evils, Tristan figured.
Professor Lupin gave a small smile. "Come along then."
Tristan trudged after Lupin in silence, gaze stuck to his shoes. He very nearly wanted to die of embarrassment. Why did it have to be Lupin? Any other teacher could've walked past. Even Snape or Filch, he wouldn't have minded either of them. But Lupin was his absolute favourite teacher, and Tristan hated that he'd seen him at such a low point.
It wasn't the first time he felt like punching something, far from. Some days he woke up and it was all he could think of, hitting something, breaking stuff. Uncontrollable hatred would bubble hot from some deep corner inside him, spread over every cavity in his chest and crawl up his throat, at times almost suffocating him. Hate so powerful and so angry, it scared him to the bone.
Inside his office, Lupin instructed Tristan to have a seat at his desk while he walked over to the tall highboy in the corner and opened the first drawer, pulling out a small purple bottle and a piece of cloth. He made his way back and sat next to Tristan, tipping the bottle and pressing the nozzle into the cloth. Lupin aimed a glance towards Tristan's hand and Tristan jerked the limb at him with slightly more attitude than he perhaps should have. But Lupin didn't seem to mind.
"It'll sting a bit," he warned. Tristan shrugged, then hissed when the cloth suddenly brushed over his split knuckles.
It was silent while Lupin cleaned the cuts and Tristan glared resentfully at the purple-stained cloth. Whatever that liquid was, it smoked when in contact with his skin for the first few seconds. Once the smoke stopped and the stinging pain subsided, Lupin did one one last swipe of the cloth and drew back. Using his wand, he closed the open wounds so there were only a few pinkish lines over Tristan's knuckles.
"So," Lupin started, setting his wand and the now bloodied cloth on his desk, dropping his hands to his thighs, "would you care to explain what happened?" Tristan peered up from under unkempt, curly bangs before shrugging again, gaze dropping to the side. "I can't help if you don't talk to me, Tris."
"You can't help anyway," Tristan spat through his clenched jaw. "No one can."
Lupin raised his eyebrows challengingly. "How about you let me be the judge of that?"
Tristan eyed him for a beat, skeptical and suspicious to say the least. "Nora got a letter from home," he ended up saying, resentment and bitterness seeping into his voice. "We have to go back for Christmas. I don't know why… they've never asked us to. But I bet it's something to do with Nora. The old hag spent all summer dropping hints about pawning her off to some snobby, rich creep like she's a piece of furniture."
Lupin frowned deeply. "You mean like an arranged marriage? Do pure-blood families still keep to that archaic tradition?"
"Yeah." Tristan crossed his arms with a dark, derisive smile. "It's all about keeping the line pure, isn't it? Building ties through marriage doesn't hurt either. My grandmother always said that's all Nora was good for. The sooner they could get rid of her the better, then she'd be her husband's problem."
There was a long silence as Lupin seemed almost too upset to speak.
"Your sister is planning to leave after she graduates. Surely…" He wet his lips, dragged a hand through his hair, curled it in a fist on his lap. "Surely she has no intention of going along with any of that ridiculous nonsense."
"She has to for now, doesn't she?" Tristan said bitterly. Thinking of his sister getting sized up by disgusting, perverted men gave him stomach cramps. "We've got nowhere else to go."
"You can stay here," Professor Lupin suggested in a heartbeat. "Or with any of your friends. I'm sure they'd be more than willing to accommodate you until everything gets sorted out."
"I keep telling her that, but Nora says it's not that simple." Tristan glared down at the pink lines on his knuckles. "I think she's scared that he'll hurt me or our friends."
"And would he?" Lupin prompted sharply.
"Dunno," Tristan answered honestly. "He might. But it doesn't mean she should sacrifice herself for us. That's what made me so mad... she told me to stay here while she goes back on her own. Of course I'm not going to do that, how can she expect me to? I know there's nothing I can do, I know I'm not any good… I can't even make him stop hurting her… all I do is make things worse… but even so I…"
Tristan's voice tailed away. He knew he was spilling out personal stuff he'd never confided to anyone, however he couldn't find it in himself to shut up. He stole a look toward Lupin, half afraid to trust him, yet desperately wanting to. Lupin looked back, waiting patiently, his expression pinched and tense.
"I feel so useless," Tristan said weakly. "And it makes me angry all the time. I stuff it down because I don't want Nora to worry, but sometimes it's so hard... I just have to get away from everyone. Is it normal to feel like this?" His eyes searched Lupin's helplessly. "It can't be, right? What if… what if I'm like him? What if whatever made him this way is inside me too? Is that possible?"
Hesitant yet warm and firm, Lupin's hand clasped around Tristan's shoulder. "Tristan, you are nothing like your father. Don't you see? The very fact that you have asked yourself that question, that you have spent time agonising over it, is precisely what makes you both so different."
"But then why do I feel all this anger?" Tristan asked desperately, digging the heels of his hands hard into his eyes where embarrassing tears burned. "Why does it never go away?"
"Because life has failed you in the most painful way possible," Lupin answered, sounding like Tristan's pain was also his own. "Children are not meant to suffer at the hands of their parents, they are meant to be loved and accepted unconditionally, meant to be protected." Lupin stared down at Tristan with great sadness. "Tristan, have you ever felt safe in your own home? Has there ever been even one single moment when you weren't afraid? That anger you feel stems not only from your fear but also from the injustice of it all. You're hurting, and you're confused. Why is this happening to you? What have you ever done to deserve being punished?"
Tristan's entire body shook from so hard he was trying to keep himself from crying. He hadn't cried since he was a child, not once, yet here he was, on the verge of bursting and crumbling to pieces. It was mortifying. Rage would've been less humiliating, or at least more natural to him, than this helpless sadness.
"It isn't fair, I know," Lupin said gently. "Nothing about what you and your sister have lived so far has been. But please don't think you are anything like your father. I may not have met him, but I can promise there isn't a speck of him in you. There's only Nora. I see her every time I look at you, I see her clear as day."
Hot, stubborn tears rolled down Tristan's cheeks. As he wiped them away furiously, the hand Lupin had on his shoulder found a new place on the crown of his head. Instead of comforting, the gesture only served to make Tristan more upset.
"She's all I have and I'm scared he'll… t-that he'll…" Tristan choked with emotion. He couldn't voice it; he wouldn't. "I don't care what she says, I'm not letting her go back alone."
There was a long beat before Lupin spoke again. "Let's do this, then. Go with Nora. If something happens, if you need help, any help at all, you send me an owl and I will do whatever I can for you."
For a moment, Tristan forgot all about his red-shot eyes and tear-streaked cheeks and raised his head to look at Professor Lupin incredulously. "Why? Why would you do that? Why do you want to help us?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Lupin said that like it was the simplest, most natural thing in the world. Tristan wasn't quite sure how to take it. "Do we have a deal? Will you let me help you?"
Speechless, Tristan could only nod.
There was some rustling while Lupin reached into his jacket. He pulled out two things. The first one was a handkerchief, which he offered to Tristan, who snatched it without a word and used it to clean his face. The second thing was, of course, chocolate.
Tristan managed a shaky, half-hearted chuckle. "Is chocolate your answer to everything?"
Lupin chuckled too, "An old friend of mine used to say that life without chocolate is like a day without sunshine, grey, boring, and greatly disappointing. How are you feeling? Better?"
"A bit," Tristan shrugged, giving back the handkerchief and taking the chocolate bar.
"Helps to talk about your troubles, doesn't it?" Lupin said with a warm smile. "It's not always easy, in fact most times it's really very difficult, especially for us men. But you feel lighter afterwards. Why don't you open up to Nora about this?"
With a sniff, Tristan jerked his shoulders again. "Nora's got enough stuff to worry about."
"If the two of you keep bottling things up from each other instead of talking them through, sooner or later it'll create a rift between you."
As he was speaking, Lupin had stood and stepped around his large desk to take his usual seat behind it. He grabbed some parchment and a quill, which he then dipped into a bottle of ink and used to scribble something in his very neat, elegant handwriting. Tristan observed him with vague interest while mulling over the words.
"Does Nora open up to you about her troubles?" he asked, biting into his candy.
Lupin's quill faltered for one quick second before resuming its scratching. "Sometimes, yes."
"She's never really talked to me about it. I don't think I've ever even seen her cry…"
"Your sister is an exceptional woman. Just because you don't see her cry it doesn't mean she isn't hurting."
"I know that," Tristan grumbled petulantly over a mouthful of chocolate. Lupin shot him a mildly amused look.
"Give this to Professor Binns—" He slid the piece of parchment across the desk. "I doubt he's noticed your absence, but better to be safe."
Tristan shoved the parchment in his pocket and decided to take that as his queue to leave. Sliding off his chair, he checked to make sure his appearance wasn't a complete wreck before turning for the door.
"By the way," Lupin said again, stopping him, "were you able to make things right with Miss Lovegood?"
"Yeah," Tristan grinned. "Thanks to your advice."
Professor Lupin chuckled, "Glad to be of service. My door's always open in case you need anything."
Indeed feeling ten times lighter, Tristan left Lupin's office and made his way to History of Magic.
For a long time, Remus sat at his desk lost in thought and going over his conversation with Tristan. He couldn't decide what worried him the most — that the boy was terrified out of his mind of losing his sister at the hands of their father, or that he was getting more and more wrapped up in Tristan and Nora's lives when he knew he shouldn't.
In so many ways Remus felt like he had failed Harry by walking away and letting Albus decide what was best for him. He'd been beating himself up for it ever since seeing Harry again after so many years and realising it was very painful to want to reach out to someone he cared deeply about but couldn't because Harry had no idea who he was or what James and Lily had meant to him. Maybe that was why he couldn't turn his back on Tristan. Maybe he was hoping to find some sort of redemption.
Still, Remus couldn't deny that, to some extent, he had grown to care about Tristan in the short period of time they'd known each other, and not just because of Nora, even though she did have a great part in it. Tristan reminded him so much of Sirius, not how he looked but in the way he carried himself, how he spoke and did certain things. Remus felt surprisingly protective of the boy.
As for Nora...
He closed his eyes with a suffering sigh. Just thinking her name brought an ache to his chest. To have held her so close in his arms, to have been right there on the verge of kissing her… he'd needed only lower his head an inch and their lips would have met. It all seemed like it happened in a dream. He hadn't meant to confess his feelings, or to touch her like a lover would. And never, in a million years, did he ever expect her to reciprocate so passionately. Why did she want him? What could she possibly see in him that was worthy of her affections?
He'd been blindsided. So much so that he'd ended up losing control and almost done something irreversible. If he had kissed her... once wouldn't have been enough, not nearly enough. He already had a hard time keeping his hands off her as it was, knowing the feel of her lips and the taste of her mouth would've been his perdition.
Remus dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling. The whole thing was a mistake. He shouldn't have put either of them in that position in the first place. But god — it just made him so furious to catch Nora and Caito all alone in that dark corridor. He'd had his suspicions for a while. Caito spent most his time staring at Nora. It was a wonder the boy managed such good grades given how little attention he actually paid in class. But there were also rumours about the two of them circling around in the duelling club. So seeing them with his own eyes, seeing the way Caito grabbed Nora like she was his to grab... had blinded him with jealousy.
He could hardly recall the last time he'd been jealous over a woman. Had he ever? Of course that didn't account for his reaction. And look where that got him — he'd brought pain upon the one person he never wanted to hurt. Remus could still see the devastation on her face when he'd pulled away. It reflected his own feelings to perfection. And the worst… the worst was having Nora's sea-goddess eyes flooded with tears. Tears put there by him. Sadness caused by him. Because he was a weak man, on top of despicable.
There was less than a week left to the full moon, and its influence weighed heavily on him, body and mind, sucking every bit of energy, every drop of happiness from his very soul. Even the smallest of movements was exhausting. He'd had to drag his lethargic body out of bed and to class that Monday morning, only to suffer yet another blow when he heard Minerva and Filius comment Nora's absence. It was his fault, Remus knew it was; and today had confirmed that. She could barely look him in the eye. Not that he was any better. The shame was far too unbearable.
Remus thought, for perhaps the millionth time that day, of Nora's silver wolf in class. Then, closing his eyes, he raised his wand and uttered the charm that was so familiar to him. When he opened his eyes again, his own wolf stared back at him, slightly larger in size yet overall identical.
"Why?" he asked in a voice no louder than a whisper. There was no answer. The large, silver wolf continued to stare in silence.
Frustrated, Remus waved his wand and the animal dissolved into a cloud of smoke, still without a sound. It was the same every time he conjured a Patronus. Unlike Nora's playful and spirited wolf, his would just stand there, solemn and quiet, as though waiting for something. Acceptance perhaps.
In all his life, he had only seen two people with matching Patronuses — James and Lily, who, despite their rocky start, had loved each other with a kind of love Remus had only read about in books. Granted that not many witches and wizards could produce fully corporeal Patronuses, matching pairs were even rarer. Did that mean something? Was it a sign that Nora's truest representation of her soul was the same as his? Or was it a fluke?
Pain began to drill at his temples. Remus brought his fingers to massage them and had to blink several times when his office suddenly spun sideways like a tilt-a-whirl. Reaching into a drawer on his desk for the small vial Poppy had thrust into his hands that morning, he swallowed the liquid in one go. Once the throbbing pain dulled down and the room quit spinning, he went into his quarters to splash some water on his face. Then, he grabbed his briefcase and was off for his next class.
Insolent first year Slytherins were always a test to his patience, whether he be under the influence of the full moon or not. Twice during his lecture he came dangerously close to throwing two remarkably snarky boys out of the classroom. Remus was telling McGonagall about it over the afternoon break in the staff room when Snape walked through the door. Generally, he and Snape went to great lengths to ignore each other during the day, exchanging very few words and only when absolutely essential, so Remus felt an ominous chill shoot down his spine when Snape's black eyes zoomed in on him, a kind of evil glint to them.
"Heard two students cast a Patronus in your class this morning, Lupin," Snape drawled silkily. Every hair on the back of Remus's neck stood on its end. "You must be rather pleased with yourself."
"Did they really?" McGonagall rounded on Remus with obvious enthusiasm. "Why didn't you say so sooner? How marvellous! Who was it?"
He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, "It was Liam Crowley and Nora Cavanaugh."
"Oh of course." McGonagall nearly smiled. "Well, I suppose that doesn't come as such a big surprise. William and Evanora are our top students after all."
Snape loomed in, face contorted into something that could've almost been a smirk if it wasn't so unpleasant. "I heard Miss Cavanaugh in particular put on quite a show. My students were saying it was an impressive animal. A wolf, wasn't it?"
Remus cursed several times in his head. He clenched his jaw, but held Snape's goading stare otherwise impassively.
"A wolf?" McGonagall echoed with a surprised frown. As she was about to inquire further, the door opened and Pomona Sprout poked her tiny, round head in to summon a word with her. "Oh, excuse me..."
With McGonagall gone, Remus and Snape were the only ones left in the staff room.
"Very interesting things, Patronuses," said Snape in that same facetious tone as he walked over to a table in the corner and poured himself a cup of tea. "They often tell a lot about a person, wouldn't you agree? I wonder what having a wolf as a Patronus says about Miss Cavanaugh."
Don't do it, Remus told himself, clamping his mouth shut and gritting his teeth tight. Don't rise, it's not worth it.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Lupin," Snape continued, voice full of malicious gloating, "but isn't your Patronus also a wolf? It is quite the coincidence, isn't it? Unless of course it isn't a coincidence at all."
Remus kept his face neutral. "I'm afraid I don't understand the point you seem to be trying to make, Severus."
"Oh I think you do." Silence dragged out for another long beat, and Snape scoffed contemptuously. "You're not even denying it."
"There is nothing to deny." Remus finished his tea, set aside the mug and, buttoning his jacket, stood from his seat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have one more class to teach."
However Snape was far from finished. "Word to the wise, Lupin, teenage girls can stroke a pathetic man's ego, but it's not all fun and games once they get attached. Miss Cavanaugh strikes me as the type to get attached easily. Rather serious daddy issues, you know. I expect that's why you caught her eye in the first place. A sad, damaged girl looking for a white knight to rescue her. Too bad you're no knight. More like a beast, aren't you, Lupin?"
The hand Remus had on the doorknob froze. He glanced over his shoulder coldly. "For someone who's also suffered at the hands of your own family, you should show a little more empathy and compassion."
The sharp, pertinent reply wiped the smirk right off Snape's face. Livid, he closed the distance between them in two quick strides and jabbed a finger at Remus, who had turned from the door.
"Do not dare talk about my family like you know anything about it!" Snape hissed angrily.
"Then perhaps you shouldn't be talking about things you also know nothing about," Remus retaliated somehow calmly even though his blood was raging loudly in his ears. "I have bent over backwards to be pleasant and civil despite all your spiteful little comments about the past and all your dissimulated insults. But I will not stand idly by while you attempt to tarnish not only my reputation but hers as well."
Snape burst with contempt. "Do you think defending Miss Cavanaugh's honour makes up for the fact that you are fooling around with an underage student? What do you believe will happen after she finds out you're a mangy werewolf, not a penny to his name?"
Remus was beginning to shake from having to hold back. It took a lot to tip him over the edge. He didn't like to lose control, over anything, not even his emotions. Being forced to lose complete and utter control of oneself one night a month tended to do that to a person. But Snape's jabs cut deep, because there were hints of truth in them. He might have stopped things from getting too far with Nora, but the line had already been crossed. In fact, the line had ceased to exist from the moment he allowed himself to have feelings for her.
With immense effort, Remus drew a long breath, steadied his body and unfolded his fists. He held Snape's stare unwaveringly. "You're a grown man acting like a petulant child, hoping to achieve some sort of retribution for things that have happened over fifteen years ago. I will not stoop down to your level, Severus. Find someone else to bully. And leave Nora out of it."
Before there was a chance Snape could pursue the argument, Remus flung the door open and left the staff room.
I bet you all guessed what Nora's Patronus was going to be, right? It was only logical!
Btw, there's a meaning to Liam's Patronus. Ravens and wolves are thought to have a special kind of bond, often hunting together and acting playful toward each other. I thought it couldn't have been more fitting. Liam's not only a Ravenclaw, but he's also in love with Nora, and that affection shows in the form of his Patronus.
