For the first time in Dora's many trips to the Beauxbatons carriage, the door was not opened by Remus or a student, but rather by Madame Maxime herself. And, also for the first time, Dora saw why people could be scared of the woman; she loomed in the entrance, tall and cold and unwelcoming.
"Wotcher," Dora said uncertainly, because she and Madame Maxime had always got on very well. Madame Maxime seemed to deflate a little.
"Bonsoir," she said. "You 'ave come for Monseiur Lupin, oui?"
"Oui," Dora said back. "S'il vous plaît. He and I have something to discuss."
"Hmm." Madame Maxime considered her. "Just him? Pas pour quelqu'un d'autre?"
"Non. Just him."
"Zen I suppose eet is not my place to interfere." Madame Maxime stepped back to let her inside. Dora stared at her, baffled.
Her sense that something was not quite right only grew as they walked together down the carriage's main corridor. It was not at all late, and while some of the students had gone back to France and their families for the holidays, quite a number had stayed behind to see more of Magical Britain, or to study, and yet the carriage's wooden hallways were empty.
"Ze students 'ave retired for ze evening," Madame Maxime said, rather pointedly.
"I see," Dora said, and thought about prying, but then decided she could just ask Remus when she saw him; she wasn't sure how the Headmistress would handle questions at the moment.
Remus and Potions Master Artigue had offices and living quarters at their own ends of a T-shaped corridor, and Madame Maxime apparently trusted Dora enough to let her head down there alone.
She knocked on the thick wood of the door and was met with silence. No call to come in, or to say that he was busy, no footsteps as he got up to-
The door cracked open - he must have had a silencing charm up - and Remus appeared. He didn't invite her in, though, or step out into the corridor to join her, just peered out through the doorway, looking incredibly stressed until he seemed to register who was standing there.
Rather than smile he looked pained.
"You're here a lot quicker than I expected," he said, grimacing. "And no Stella."
"She's with the boys," Dora said, matching his tone. "I thought-" Remus sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, looking tired and upset.
"Not out here," he said over the top of her.
"All right." She arched an eyebrow. "Are you going to invite me in, then?" She stepped into his space. Remus flinched like she'd burned him but ultimately didn't budge from his position in the doorway.
"Merlin, Remus-"
"I will invite you in," he said, cutting her off again, "but before I do, I need you to understand that this is not what it looks like and I need you to stay calm so we can discuss this-"
"I'm beginning to think we both want to discuss different things," Dora said. "Madame Maxime was off earlier, and now you…? What's happened?"
"You're not here about the article?" he asked, blinking.
"No," she said. "I'm here about-" She glanced down the corridor at Artigue's door. "-the big, black dog at Grimmauld that isn't Sirius."
"The- oh." Remus didn't look guilty or surprised, or- anything at all, really.
"What article?" Dora asked, reaching up to rest a hand on his arm. Remus closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped back to let her in.
"Bonjour, Madame Lupin," Fleur said quietly. She was sitting in the chair in front of Remus' desk, holding an enormous mug of hot chocolate, and wearing a thick, mint green dressing gown, slippers, and with her hair in a sloppy braid. She was still effortlessly pretty, but she also seemed very human, very vulnerable.
"Bonjour," Dora replied, looking over the room again.
"Skeeter's got a piece in the Evening Prophet," Remus said, picking up the copy of the Prophet that had been sitting atop his desk.
"Let me guess," Dora said, taking it but not looking at it, "Skeeter's accused you of helping Fleur cheat in the Tournament, or something." Unless Fleur regularly visited her teachers in her pyjamas, she'd come by unexpectedly, and urgently, and she was clearly distressed enough that Remus had thought the situation warranted hot chocolate; it had not escaped her notice that Remus had his own mug of it on his desk.
"She's certainly accused me of cheating," Remus said tightly. "Just-"
There was a flash of silver and Fleur gasped as Sirius' dog patronus materialised in the room.
"Just seen the paper, Moony - if you haven't, you need to now. Page four. Dora's on her way to you and should be there soon if she isn't already - she'll need to see it too-" Remus flicked his wand and the dog dissolved into silver mist.
"Zat ees Black?" Fleur asked, sounding sick.
"Oui," Remus said. He ran a hand through his hair, seemingly unable to decide whether he wanted to throw himself into his desk chair, or pace; the result was him hovering by the side of his desk, twirling his wand nervously between his fingers.
Dora unfolded the paper and flipped to page four:
BEAUXBATONS CHAMPION HAS HER EYE ON A DIFFERENT SORT OF PRIZE...
By Rita Skeeter
As the only female competitor in the ongoing Triwizard Tournament, Beauxbatons Champion Fleur Delacour has become something of a role model to young witches across magical Europe, and has wormed her way into the fantasy of many a young wizard (and probably those of a few older ones too).
We know from her performance in the tasks so far that Delacour is an acceptably competent competitor - though she's certainly not exceeding any expectations, the way fellow Champion and rising-favourite Harry Potter is! - and we know that she's a young woman of ambition because she was willing to enter herself in the first place.
"I don't know if it's ambition," one of Delacour's peers said, when this reporter questioned him, "or if it's just attention-seeking. She's always liked the attention she gets."
Deeper digging by this reporter uncovered a number of schoolyard scandals that Delacour has been directly involved in, including but not limited to the enchantment and humiliation of several male classmates, and the sabotaging of several of her peers' relationships.
"Because she could," another of her peers said, when asked why Delacour would do such things.
At first, this reporter speculated that these could have been the actions of a girl scorned, or jealous, or caught in the giddy madness of teenage love, but further conversations with her peers revealed that Delacour has never dated.
"She thinks she's better than everyone," a fellow Beauxbatons student confided. "She's had offers but always put her nose up at them."
With, it would seem, the exception of Roger Davies, Hogwarts student, Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and Delacour's date to last night's Yule Ball. Delacour and Davies made a very attractive couple and were well matched as partners in the opening dance, but barely spoke to each other throughout dinner; Delacour was too busy talking to this reporter about her teacher, Remus Lupin.
Lupin, dear readers, will be a very familiar name to you all, first becoming a household name through his confession of conspiring with Sirius Black following Black's escape from Azkaban, and with his very public announcement of his lycanthropy during Sirius Black's criminal trial, and then in the years since, usually in stories related to very understandable concerns around whether someone of his kind ought to be around children. This reporter is of the opinion that he shouldn't be (at all, let alone every day as part of his occupation), but Delacour was strong in her convictions of the opposite.
She was both fond and defensive of Lupin, and of her relationship with him, saying he has been very "supportive" of her, and that she would not have made it as far in the Tournament as she has without his teaching.
Curiously, Delacour's defense of Lupin is not one-sided; in fact, Lupin spent the first hour of the Yule Ball sporting a black eye that was the result of his involvement in a testosterone-fuelled scuffle over Delacour. Also curious is that, after their lack-luster evening at the Ball and the not-so-secret afterparty, Davies returned to the castle in the company of one of his female housemates, some two hours after Delacour had returned to the Beauxbatons carriage with Lupin.
A teacher merely escorting his student back after hours, or is there more to it? Lupin is surprisingly well liked by the students at Beauxbatons (though, this reporter supposes he is hardly the first or most conspicuous non-human that students at that school have dealt with - readers need only look at Headmistress Maxime to know that!), and is considered very "helpful and approachable", but his relationship with Delacour goes beyond that:
"She's in his office two or three times a week," reported one of her classmates. "For an hour at least."
And so, dear readers, surely one must wonder: why?
As above, Delacour has proven herself a competent competitor - perhaps not as talented academically as some, but certainly no dullard either - and everyone knows teachers are forbidden from helping their schools' Champions prepare. At the Yule Ball, Delacour herself denied any help from Lupin since the Tournament's commencement, and if we give her the benefit of the doubt, one must wonder what else could be going on behind closed doors…
Is it possible Delacour is exploiting her veela heritage to enchant Lupin, as she has done with her peers in the past? And if so, to what ends? Is it perhaps a game to her, a bit of teenage rebellion and pushing of boundaries, or is it, perhaps, a genuine but misguided attempt to make a girlhood fantasy reality?
One must also wonder whether Lupin is a victim at all, and not instead a willing participant. Lupin, a man (and not even quite that) who has shown his selfishness through continuing to inflict himself on polite society, and also a man who has previously demonstrated his preference for younger women; his wife, twenty-three year old Nymphadora Lupin, formerly Tonks, is eleven years his junior.
There are also reportedly issues between him and his wife; it is unclear whether these issues could be the result of Lupin's possible relationship with Delacour, or whether they could have been the thing that pushed Lupin into potentially pursuing Delacour, but what is certain is that the pair have not lived together since September - Mrs Lupin is attempting to single-handedly raise their daughter while Lupin teaches (and all that that may entail...).
Out of a desire to not speculate too much, dear readers, this reporter approached Mrs Lupin earlier for a comment, and a chance to set the record straight, on the off chance that this reporter's own accounts, and the accounts provided by those closest to Lupin and Delacour could perhaps have been misinterpreted.
Mrs Lupin did not comment specifically on her husband's relationship with Delacour, but was very upset throughout our conversation, confiding she has a lot to "worry about", and requested her privacy be respected during what is obviously a very emotional time...
There were several more paragraphs to the story, and several large photographs - of Remus and Fleur, mostly, but there was one of Dora herself (with spiky purple hair, bags under her eyes, and in the process of spelling what was either Stella's dribble or very watery vomit off her robes. Skeeter had described her as eccentric compared to Delacour's exquisite) - but Dora had read enough. She folded the paper shut, the fringe she was wearing today turning a bright, furious red.
Remus looked like he was going to be sick. Fleur looked like she was about to burst into tears.
"I might actually kill her," Dora said to Remus, as levelly as she could manage.
"I promise eet is not what it 'as been made to sound like," Fleur said, shaking her head. "I would never- Monsieur Lupin would never- Je vous promets! It is not true!"
Dora took a deep breath, looking between Remus who stood stiff and sickly looking, and Fleur, who looked like she was a few seconds from hysterics. She walked slowly - so as not to startle Fleur - over, and then, telegraphing the movement, hugged the younger witch.
Fleur went stiff, and burst into tears, clinging to her.
"Shh," Dora said, rubbing her back. "I know you wouldn't." When she said it, her eyes were on Remus. "It's just more of Skeeter's rubbish."
Dora felt a bit like crying too - though probably more out of anger than out of being overwhelmed, like Fleur - and she would much rather have been hugging Remus than a distraught seventeen year old - but Fleur was only seventeen and it had just been very strongly and publicly implied that she'd seduced her older, married teacher, so Dora stayed where she was, doing what she could to comfort her, since Remus clearly felt too uncomfortable to do so. Dora couldn't tell if it was because of the tears, or because he felt too awkward after Skeeter's article, or a bit of both.
Some time later, when Fleur had settled enough to bid them both a hoarse goodnight and return to her dormitory, Remus finally stopped his awkward hovering and collapsed into the chair at his desk.
"Are you okay?" Dora asked, coming around to stand beside him, and cup his face, run a hand through his hair.
"Me?" He gave a wry, slightly bitter smile. "Someone's written another article insinuating I'm a bad person - or not a person at all… that's just a regular weekday. I'm fine." But his eyes were hard and about as angry as she'd ever seen.
"You look it," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm used to it," he half said, half growled. "You, and Fleur- suggesting that- Fleur… she's- well, not a child, thankfully, or there'd be another level to all of this, but she's so young. And this is going to- it's not like she can go and hide until everyone forgets about this, she's got to go out in public to compete, and know everyone's going to be wondering… And even if - when - we put out a statement to put things right, people are going to keep wondering… This is going to stick with her for life. As for you..."
"Me? I thought I got off pretty lightly," Dora said darkly.
"I don't think so." Remus twisted in his chair and pulled her into his lap, holding her close. She breathed in his familiar scent, pressed closer to his warmth. "If she's suggesting that I could ever-"
"I know you wouldn't," Dora said.
"I couldn't," he said. "You're- for her to even suggest-" He hooked a gentle finger under her chin, and tilted her head up so she was looking at him. "-that I could even consider replacing you, that I could ever get bored of you, or ever find someone that I find more attractive- or- well, it does you an incredible disservice." He sounded angry, but his cheeks were flushed, and Dora kissed the corner of his mouth. He turned to kiss her properly, then, eyes very bright, murmured, "You're it for me."
"Likewise," she said, her hand finding his, so she could run her fingers over his wedding ring. "What do we do? Everyone that matters won't believe it for a second-" At least she hoped not. "-and really, as long as we both know the truth, it shouldn't- but it does!" And there were the angry tears; Remus held her more tightly. "And I know r-responding to it is just giving it more fuel, but the idea of saying n-nothing, of doing nothing after that-" She jabbed a finger at the Prophet, lying deceptively innocently on the desk. "-I don't think I can." Dora wiped impatiently at her face. "I threatened to arrest her for defamation and slander this morning, and now I'm of a mind to actually do it."
"I assume this was when she approached you asking for a comment?" Remus asked.
"Yes," Dora sighed. "I didn't even let her say what the comment was about… Just sort of… let her have it about everything else she's done and written lately." She put her head in her hands. "This is probably my f-fault."
"Fleur said she probably riled her a bit at the Ball," Remus said. "We were discussing it before you arrived. And we all know Skeeter's been out to get me since I defended Sirius and Harry. But personally, I maintain that the only person whose fault it is is Skeeter's." Dora grunted.
"I-"
There was a commotion in the hallway, and lots of noisy French that Dora didn't understand a lot of, but Remus' eyebrows shot up and he stood so suddenly she almost tumbled off. He hurried over to the door and Dora drew her wand, but before he could get there, the door was ripped open by a livid Madame Maxime.
"Oops, sorry- er, pardon." There was a pause and then the boy who Fleur could hear out in the hallway said, "Fleur Delacour?"
There was silence, then the sound of a door closing, then footsteps on floorboards, and then a knock at her door.
"Go away," she snapped at the door. She was in no mood to speak to anyone else tonight, except perhaps her parents, but it was already late here which would mean it was even later back at home, and Fleur needed more energy before she could face that conversation. She didn't want either of them to read the article, ever, but she also didn't want to have to try to recount its contents. The thought of it made her feel physically ill, though she knew neither her maman or papa would doubt her for a moment. The idea that she- that Monsieur Lupin- that either of them-
"I- sorry," the same boy who'd spoken to Brigitte next door said, much more quietly than before. The voice and accent were unmistakably British. "I-er- I don't know what that means. But… can I come in? Please?"
"No!" she said, and was furious with herself for letting her voice catch.
"Please?" Fleur snatched up her wand with a snarl, yanked the door open and nearly poked out Harry Potter's eye. Had it not been behind glasses, she probably would have. The sight of him stopped her dead in her tracks, because there was no reason for him to be here, except, perhaps, because he'd seen the article, and there was no way any good could come of that.
"Hi," he said with a grimace, and then bent to duck under her arm and get into her room while she was still frozen in the doorway.
"What do you think you are doing?" she demanded in English, drawing herself up to her full height, which was, unfortunately, an inch or two shorter than his. "Get out."
"We need to talk," Potter said. "Shut the door."
"Not until you are on the other side of it," she snapped. "I am in no mood-"
"Yeah, and I don't blame you," he said, looking furious for a moment before going back to awkwardly earnest, "but we probably don't have long and I'm offering to help you fix it."
"Unless you can go back in time and stop that Skeeter woman, then-"
"Not this year, I can't," he said, "but I- look, I had an idea, and it's probably a terrible one, but it's something." He gave her a hopeful look. Eyes narrowed, she shut the door.
"You have one minute," she said.
"Great," he said. "Thanks. Okay." He ran a hand through his hair, then looked at her. "We date."
"Get. Out." Fleur brandished her wand.
"No!" He held his hands up. "You said a minute! Listen. We're both Champions, right? It'd be massive news, since it's probably unofficially forbidden to… I dunno, fraternise with the enemy or whatever."
"I would never date you," Fleur said, folding her arms.
"Well, right now your options are me, or Moon- Remu- Lupin," Potter said, rolling his eyes. "Which- er- I know isn't true, by the way… that's why I'm here, so- yeah."
Potter was nothing to her except a surprisingly strong competitor in the Tournament and an annoyance, so Fleur was surprised to feel tears prickling her eyes; she didn't expect many people to doubt Skeeter. Chances were, Potter only did because he was so close with Monsieur Lupin. If it had been implied that Fleur was having an affair with any of her other teachers, she doubted Potter would have given it any thought at all.
"Look, we say when you've been meeting up with him that it's been to hide the fact that you've been meeting with me. We didn't go to the Ball together because we didn't want it to be public, but we still sat together, talked a bit. Honestly, we can have a really messy break up in a week, and no one will care… they'll probably just think we'll be more competitive in the tasks and get all excited about it. But in the meantime it makes Skeeter look wrong, and it saves everyone's reputation-"
"Except yours," she said. "Why would you want to be a part of this mess?" Her voice wobbled on the last word.
"I don't at all," Potter said. "But this whole Skeeter-out-to-get-my-family thing started because Padfoot said he'd handle her so I didn't have to. If I'd just dealt with it, then- well, we probably wouldn't be here."
"You think this is your fault?" Fleur asked in disbelief.
"A bit," Potter said, shrugging. "Mostly Skeeter's though. Main point is it's not Moony's, or Dora's, or yours, so… yeah. They're my family and they've been trying to protect me. Figured I can try to do the same for them. And not just them." Potter looked angry again, and it was more intimidating than she would have expected. "I don't want my godsister to find this article in however many years time and wonder, even for a second, if Moony could do that to Dora."
"I do not think Monsieur Lupin would want you involved," Fleur said.
"Thankfully, he doesn't get an opinion," Potter said. "Just you."
It was possible Potter really was as noble and self-sacrificing as he was trying to come across, but it was also entirely possible he had an ulterior motive; it was possible he secretly fancied her, and was hoping that this display of chivalry would somehow win her over, or that she'd decide she felt the same after a few days of pretending to date him. It was also possible - and, probably more likely, since she'd never had even the slightest inkling that Potter might fancy her - that he was hoping for the status that would come with being able to say he was a fourteen year old boy dating a seventeen year old part-veela.
And so what if he is, Fleur thought to herself. She'd handled worse… she'd been dealing with the bravado of teenage boys for years. There was nothing he'd be able to say that other boys hadn't tried to say before, and if there was, or if he tried to take too many liberties with what he falsely bragged about, then she could always start rumours back.
"How would we go about it?" she asked.
"Er… dunno," he said. "Hadn't really got that far."
"Would we announce it?" Fleur frowned. "Surely we must, because it will be very unconvincing if we simply go about it quietly once school resumes-"
"Not quite announce it," he said, "I- knocking next door was sort of deliberate. If everyone here's anything like everyone at Hogwarts, nothing stays secret for-" He cocked his head, as if listening, though Fleur couldn't hear a thing. After a moment he grimaced, apologetic: "Yeah, you need to decide now if this is happening, because I think Madame Maxime's on her way."
"Looks like it is happening then," Fleur said, irritably, "because if she's on her way, you've left me no choice-"
"No, your choice," Potter said so quickly she almost struggled to translate it. "I can hide if you'd rather." He pulled a bundle of silvery fabric out of his pocket and she watched as his arm disappeared beneath it.
She studied him for a moment, then nodded; at this stage, she had nothing to lose - because how could it possibly get worse? - so if she could use him to clear her name, and Monsieur Lupin's, then she would, and if it backfired on him, well, it had been his idea in the first place.
"Fine," she said, just as quickly. "Then I assume the plan is to be sprung here?"
"Yeah, I figured if she finds us, then she'll probably make a bit of a scene, and if people here were willing to talk to Skeeter, then they'll definitely be listening, so if might feed back to-" Fleur tugged the hairtie out of her braid and shook her hair out, then shrugged her dressing gown off. She eyed Potter speculatively and for the first time that night he looked genuinely worried. "What?"
She closed the distance between them, seized his chin and forced it up, then sucked hard on his neck. He yelped and tried to wriggle away - a child, honestly - but she hissed at him to stay still, then sucked another. She was efficient and not at all gentle about it, and Potter didn't seem to enjoy the experience even remotely - which was sort of the point, as far as she was concerned.
He was bright red when she released him a few seconds later, and she could feel a bit of heat in her own cheeks, but refused to act embarrassed. His hair was already a disaster, so she tugged his glasses down until they were lopsided and then took a moment to study her handiwork; she was still standing very close to him and he was leaning away, looking like he was already regretting every part of this-
There was a knock at the door and barely a pause before it opened.
Fleur sprang away from him, not even acting, and Potter did the same, thudding into the wall behind the door.
"What is going on here?!" Madame Maxime boomed.
