Friday, January 27, 1978
Remus and Peter stood by the door of the empty classroom and exchanged glances as they both drew their wands. Peter's face was drawn into an optimistic, hopeful half-smile, but Remus's expression was stony.
"This is going to work," Peter assured him, his face sliding into the familiar distracted frown he wore when he was concentrating. "You'll get it. I know you will."
Remus nodded as he struggled to shut everything else out and concentrate on his happy memory. Over and over he returned to the same moment: Dumbledore strolling into his living room to explain that he could go to Hogwarts after all, the two of them playing a game of gobstones while Remus's parents looked on in amazement, Remus's blinding happiness. But no matter how many times he returned to that day, he couldn't summon the feeling of overwhelming bliss. Instead, he felt only a vague, nagging emptiness. After twenty minutes without progress, he sank down onto the floor and rested his head against the wall.
"Maybe I'm just one of those people who can't produce a Patronus," he said, sighing. "Plenty of people can't."
He looked up just in time to see a small, silvery rat burst from Peter's wand.
"Nice work, Pete. At least you've managed it."
Peter watched his Patronus scurry through the air, then sat down beside Remus.
"Don't be stupid, of course you're going to do it," he said, glancing sideways at Remus and raising his eyebrows. "You're the best at Defense in our entire year. Maybe it's still too close to full moon—"
"I don't want to make excuses for myself." Remus rubbed his forehead in irritation. There was a lingering weariness weighing his body down, but he had decided to ignore it because he didn't have time to be anything less than fully functional today. "Macintyre told me not to come back to class without being able to produce a Patronus, so I'm going to produce a bloody Patronus."
"It's not an excuse, you stubborn git," Peter said. "But fine, if you're not going to leave this classroom until you manage it, maybe try a different memory? The one you've picked might not be happy enough."
Remus frowned. "You think so? It's pretty damn happy."
"That's what I thought about the first memory I thought of, too," Peter said, shrugging. "But it was only getting me the silvery vapor stuff. I switched a few minutes ago and that's how I finally got the real one."
Remus studied a scratch in the stone floor as he considered this. He scrambled to come up with an even happier memory, but his mind went blank.
"What did you use for a memory?" he asked, but he experienced a pang of guilt when he saw Peter's face redden. "Sorry, I know that's sort of a personal question. You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'm just… stuck." A smirk spread over his face as he added, "It's not about Bertha Jorkins, is it?"
Peter laughed and shook his head. "Nah." He fiddled with the sleeve of his robes, then looked over at Remus. "At first I chose a memory from first year. It was my birthday, and I made this really excellent cake that came out exactly how I wanted it to, and my mum was really pleased. And we played a game of chess and I beat her for the first time without her letting me win. It wasn't anything special, just a nice day."
Remus imagined the Pettigrew's little house with a wreath on the door and snow dusting the front garden, the smell of baked goods wafting from the kitchen as Peter and his mother sat around the kitchen table playing chess while a cake cooled beside them.
"But that wasn't strong enough?"
Peter shook his head. "So then I picked a different memory. It was the first full moon when we were all running through the forest. Do you remember? No, you probably don't, but anyway, it was snowing a bit, and you three were racing, and then Padfoot came back for me, and it was just…"
His voice trailed off and he shrugged, but Remus knew what he meant. It was that feeling of belonging, the freedom of the entire Hogwarts grounds stretching out before them, the thrill of adventure mingled with the risk of danger.
"I do remember that," Remus murmured.
It was strange, because wolf memories weren't like other memories. He could recall only a rush of smells and sounds accompanying one simple emotion — fear, anger, pain. On this particular night, Remus had been so happy to be running free through the trees with his friends instead of alone in the shack with only his fury and terror for company, that it had driven away all the unpleasant emotions that went along with the full moon. He didn't remember the pain of the transformation, or the struggle as the wolf took over his human mind, or the exhaustion of recovery afterwards. There was only the simple joy of knowing his friends were with him in spite of everything.
"Hold on. I'm going to try again," he said, his voice low and excited. He focused his mind on that full moon, closing his eyes and letting the memory take hold of him until everything else fell away. The joy of running through the forest immersed him as he raised his wand and spoke the incantation. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, eyes still squeezed shut, Remus felt the happiness of that night pull free from his mind to travel through his wand and burst fully-formed into the air.
"There you go, Moony!"
Peter clapped and cheered, and Remus opened his eyes to see the result of all his hard work. A large animal with long legs and shaggy fur loped through the air, too far away for Remus to make it out. As it turned and raced back to him, it became clearer and clearer until there was no mistaking it.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Remus said as the wolf returned to his side and dissolved in a shower of silver vapor.
"It's okay, it's a true wolf, not a werewolf," Peter said. "It doesn't have the tufted tail — I checked. That's the one difference I always remember."
"I don't care if it has the tufted fucking tail," Remus spat, getting to his feet and striding across the room. "A true wolf isn't much better. I can't go to class and produce a bloody wolf Patronus in front of everyone. It'll be so fucking obvious."
He stopped pacing in front of a pile of desks stacked in the corner. One had been hastily placed beside all the rest, and Remus aimed a kick at it. When this did nothing besides send a jolt of pain through his foot, he seized the desk and flipped it over, then grabbed a chair from the stack and tossed it across the floor for good measure.
"Fuck!" He stood there with his hands hanging useless at his sides, heart pounding as he imagined the silver wolf bounding through the air, proclaiming his most shameful secret for the whole world to see. "Fuck."
He sent another chair spinning to the ground, then sat down on the floor and put his head in his hands. Time passed as he sat there fuming, aware of nothing besides his own frustration. When Peter cleared his throat, Remus was surprised to see his friend standing over him, shifting from foot to foot and biting his lip. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he'd forgotten Peter was in the room.
"So, er, no pressure, but it's time for Defense," Peter said, his tone cautious as he waited for Remus's reaction.
"I'm not going," Remus said flatly.
"Right." Peter nodded and studied the wall behind Remus. "What would you like me to tell Macintyre to explain why you're not there?"
"Tell him to sod off," Remus muttered. He sounded sulky even to his own ears, but he didn't care. How was he supposed to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts and let a room full of his classmates see that wolf parading around?
"I would, except I don't fancy getting detention," Peter said with a wry smile. "So I'll probably just tell him you're sick."
Remus watched him cross the room, and his anger ebbed away as he imagined Macintyre's irritation when he didn't turn up for class. Heaving a sigh, he stood up and called out to Peter. Peter stopped with his hand on the door handle and turned to look at him, eyebrows raised.
"I'm coming," Remus said, exhaling the rest of his anger and frustration. "Just hang on a second, I want to try something."
He closed his eyes and returned to his happy memory, but instead of letting the memory envelope him, he held himself apart from it. When he flourished his wand and spoke the incantation, it was a much weaker rush of happiness that traveled through his wand and sprang into the air. Opening his eyes he saw a rush of silvery mist, but the wolf was nowhere to be seen.
"Did you do that on purpose?" Peter asked, frowning.
Remus nodded. "That'll be enough to satisfy Macintyre. Probably enough for an Exceeds Expectations on the N.E.W.T exam, too."
"But if you can do it properly, why not do it?"
Remus scowled and shoved his wand into his back pocket.
"Because of all the forms my Patronus could take, why does it have to be a fucking wolf? You should consider yourself lucky, Pete. You might be the only person who ever gets to see me produce a proper Patronus, because I'm not doing it again unless I'm fighting off an actual Dementor."
"At least it's not a rat," Peter said under his breath.
"I'd rather a rat! I'd rather a fucking earth worm. Literally anything would be better than this." He rubbed his temples and heaved an irritated sigh. "But it's fine. I'm just never going to let anyone see it. Problem solved."
He fell silent and noticed the apprehensive look on Peter's face.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I lost my head a bit. I just… Fuck, that made me angry. But I'm fine now. We can go to class. I promise I'm not going to tell Macintyre to sod off."
Peter's face relaxed into a smile. "It's all right. I suppose I'd be angry too, although I still think it's better than a rat."
Remus shrugged. "We can agree to disagree, I guess."
"Oh, hang on." Peter turned and pointed his wand at the fallen desk and chairs; he flashed Remus an apologetic smile as they soared through the air to join the rest of the stack.
"Thanks," Remus said sheepishly, not meeting Peter's eye.
Peter made a dismissive hand gesture. "Did it help? Flipping the desk and throwing the chairs, I mean?"
Remus considered the question. The whole week had been one big cauldron fire. The pain and exhaustion of his transformation, the guilt of hurting James, the frustration of the failed Patronus lesson and Macintyre's discouraging comments – it had all been enough to push him to his limit. Opening his eyes and seeing that wolf Patronus had been the icing on the damn cake, but hurling the desk and chairs across the room had given him a brief moment of release.
"It did help, a bit," he admitted, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Come on, we'd better go before Macintyre tells us off for being late."
And he stepped through the door and out into the corridor, musing that no matter what the day threw at him, at least it couldn't possibly get any worse.
Saturday, January 28, 1978
Weak afternoon sunlight peeked into the room as Lily and James drowsed together, tucked under the duvet. They had remained this way since they had returned from breakfast, and Lily had no intention of moving in the near future. She shifted in bed, moving closer to James and sighing. James smiled as her warm breath stirred the ends of his hair, and he tilted his head up to kiss her forehead.
"You sure this is all you want to do today?" he murmured, trailing his finger up and down her arm. "Your birthday is Monday. There's still time to put together a party, or we can go into Hogsmeade…"
"I have no desire to do anything else." She tugged the blankets up to her chin and closed her eyes. "Well, you could probably convince me to go to the prefects' bathroom, but first I want to lay here for at least another hour."
"We've probably earned a lazy day, haven't we?"
Lily's hand slid under his shirt to trace the skin that had borne jagged wounds just days earlier. The cuts no longer needed tending to every few hours, although the skin was now crisscrossed with scars that would linger as a reminder of the incident. Even now she found herself sneaking glances at him, checking his skin for clamminess or pallor, searching his trousers and shirt for bright hints of blood seeping through the fabric.
"We really have." She ran her hand over his stomach and up to his chest, enjoying the warmth of his bare skin under her fingers. The sound of his breathing mingled with hers, but other than that the room was silent. His arms tightened around her, and she breathed in the scent of him, feeling sleepy and contented and safe.
"Thanks, Evans," he murmured, his breath tickling her ear.
"For what?"
He reached for her hand, running his thumb along her palm. "For going along with everything and never complaining or telling me off or even mentioning how utterly insane all of it is."
She smiled. "I'm used to the insanity. At this point, it doesn't even phase me. I suppose it's a small price to pay for all the good that comes along with being with you and being friends with you lot."
He rolled onto his side to look at her. The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated the hints of gold in his hazel eyes, and she watched that familiar lazy grin spread across his face. He's so bloody adorable. How could I go so long without realizing how much I love that stupid hair, that loud, infectious laugh, the smile that puts you at ease even when you don't want it to?
"I still don't know how I got so lucky," he said, leaning forward to press his lips to hers. "I show up, with my right side all mangled and dripping blood, and you just hug me and put me to bed without asking me a bunch of questions."
"Well, I dunno how lucky you actually are," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "I nearly killed you the next day. It was entirely my fault that you, you know, overexerted yourself."
He shrugged. "Worth it."
She frowned and propped herself up on her elbow as a thought occurred to her. "Where did you get the Blood-Replenishing Potion? I don't suppose Pomfrey is in the habit of just giving that out to students."
A guilty smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "We may have stolen it. At first we tried brewing it ourselves, but we had to keep raiding Slughorn's stores for the ingredients, and he started to get suspicious. Plus it's far too time-consuming when we had to keep doing it every month, because it only keeps for 30 days."
"It's still safe to use for another two weeks or so, but it's far less effective," she said, then giggled when she saw James roll his eyes at her. "Sorry, that was a very know-it-all response, wasn't it?"
"It's exactly the sort of response I'd expect from Head Girl Evans," James said, tickling her face with a strand of her hair.
She grabbed his hand to stop him, then ran her thumb up and down his palm as she mulled an idea over. She became so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't notice James watching her until he laughed and broke her concentration.
"Sorry, you're just so cute when you're focused like that," he remarked. "I can always tell you're thinking hard about something when your tongue pokes out."
She returned her tongue to her mouth, both self-conscious and pleased.
"I have an idea," she began. "A way to get more potion without having to steal it from Pomfrey." When he didn't reply, but sat there watching her with wide, curious eyes, she continued. "A while back Slughorn offered me a sort of internship, where I would brew some of the potions for the hospital wing. It was meant to give me some experience for after I finish school, and to be honest I liked the idea, but I didn't want to commit to it when I had so many other things going on…"
James raised his eyebrows. "Do you mean me?"
"Well, there's also all the Head Girl stuff and homework and studying for N.E.W.T.s," she said, a sheepish smile spreading across her face. "But, yeah, it was mostly I'd rather spend time with you than brew potions for Slughorn while he sits on his arse."
"Evs," James said, his brows knitting with worry, "I'd never want you to miss out on an opportunity because of me."
She shrugged, dismissing his concern. "I didn't. And anyway, I don't think it's too late. He said if I ever changed my mind just to say the word, even though he ended up taking on someone else instead…"
Her voice trailed off and she darted a meaningful look at James.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Not Sniv?"
She rolled her eyes at the nickname but didn't comment. "Unfortunately, yes."
"You're not working with him," James said quickly, a stubborn note in his tone.
Anger flared like a match inside her chest. Eyes flashing, Lily pushed herself into a seated position and crossed her arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize being my boyfriend entitled you to make decisions for me."
James sensed danger and held up a hand in surrender. "You're right, I'm sorry. It's just, bloody hell, Evans. The two of you alone down in the dungeons? I don't trust him not to use Dark Magic on you, or worse."
"What could he do that's worse than Dark Magic, James?"
He stared down at the duvet and mumbled something incomprehensible.
"What was that?" Lily asked, grinning at the sullen expression on his face.
"What if he, you know, tries to kiss you or something?" Just speaking the words aloud seemed to cost James a sizable effort.
"He won't. He thinks I'm a filthy Mudblood, remember?"
James flinched as she spoke the cruel word. "I wish you wouldn't say that. Anyway, he still fancies you, no matter what he says in public."
"Funny way of showing someone you fancy them," she said with a bitter laugh. "But if he does try to kiss me, I can handle him."
"I dunno, Evans. He knows all sorts of spells you'd never dream of using," James said, his tone apprehensive.
"Then I'll kick him in the bollocks before he can hex me," she said, shrugging. "I think I can take him physically; he's kind of weak and scrawny."
She watched James's expression brighten, and she knew he was picturing her giving Snape a nice hard kick.
"And if you're still worried, I'll ask Slughorn if we can work alternating days or something," she went on. "That would suit my purposes better, actually. It would make it easier to steal a bit of potion, and I'll be free to experiment a bit. You know, just for fun. "
Her mind was already spinning out the possibilities, tossing around an idea she had been entertaining for a while now, but it was too tenuous to mention yet.
James shook his head in amazement. "Brewing potions just for fun. You're really something, you know that?" He leaned forward to kiss her, and his lips were soft and warm against hers. "Now no more mention of Snape. I don't want to talk about him here in bed, because this is a happy place."
"That's fair." She grinned and lay back against the pillows, then pulled him closer and let the warmth of his arms around her drive away all thoughts of Snape.