'So if you love me, love me everywhere,'
H.D.
Ancient Runes proves to be Darcy's worst exam—not that she's terribly worried about it. She's sure that she's managed to scrape a passing grade at least, and Emily is quite confident afterwards as they exit the Great Hall together. They linger in the entrance hall, unsure of what to say, but unable to stop smiling. All of a sudden, the weather seems so much more beautiful than it had before, the cavernous hall seems brighter and more welcoming than ever, and when Snape comes down the corridor and sees Darcy, she even flashes him a wide, genuine grin, to which he responds with a look of utter confusion and only nods at her in acknowledgement. By the time the Great Hall is set up for lunch again, many seventh years have already finished their exams, and they all crowd the doors, making it difficult for other students to pass.
Gemma turns up for lunch a few minutes after it starts, while the seventh years are still congratulating each other. Instead of looking nervous and overwhelmed, Gemma is anxious to get her Arithmancy exam over with, and she beams at her friends with what looks to be a twinkle in her brown eyes. Carla stands with the three of them, Gemma's arm draped around her skinny shoulders, watching as Darcy, Emily, and Gemma are hugged by others. Even Oliver Wood wraps his burly arms around Darcy's neck, hugging her tight, and the gesture makes her so incredibly happy, she hugs him right back around the middle, swaying on the spot with him for a moment as they utter "congratulations" and "excellent job" in each other's ears.
Once Oliver releases her, Darcy looks around wildly, trying to spot three students in particular—one with dark hair, one with red hair, and one with bushy hair, but they're nowhere to be seen and Darcy can't help but to feel slightly disappointed. She thought Harry would have least come over and given her a quick hug before running off to join his friends again, but Darcy knows she'll see him plenty later—it's not as if she's leaving him anytime soon. Finally, the seventh years begin to filter into the Great Hall, talking louder than usual, and there's an air of excitement that is rarely felt at Hogwarts during the regular school year.
"Let's get some lunch," Emily says in Darcy's ear, as Carla drags Gemma into the Great Hall by the hand. "Or we could eat outside. It's beautiful out today."
"Oh, er—I was actually going to go see Professor Lupin…" Darcy blushes slightly, hoping that Emily's good mood won't be wiped away too quickly.
Emily hesitates, swallowing her words, it seems. "All right, but we get you for dinner."
Darcy grins. "Deal."
As Darcy heads to Lupin's classroom, adrenaline courses through her. I'm no longer his student. She nearly skips the rest of the way there, her heart racing for several reasons, threatening to burst in her chest. Not only are her exams completely done, but she feels she's done rather well on all of them—which she should, given the amount of work she'd put in this year; Emily didn't say a word of caution when Darcy told her where she'd be going, nor did she scowl or scrunch her nose or look remotely angry; the knowledge that she still has a week to enjoy herself and relax in the sunny grounds, spending time with her friends and Harry and Lupin; and Darcy is looking forward to getting incredibly, irresponsibly drunk with her friends the following night, looking forward to celebrating seven years' worth of hard work.
Armed with these thoughts, knowing that nothing could bring her down right now, Darcy lets herself into Lupin's classroom, lets herself into his office, and when she realizes he's not there, lets herself through the secret doorway hidden in the wall of his office. Upon entering, Lupin is standing at the counter opposite the sofa, flipping through that day's newspaper with a cup of tea in his hand. He lowers the cup at the sight of her, placing it on the counter, and smiles widely at her. "Congratulations, Darcy," he sighs happily, but she doesn't answer him.
Darcy runs up to him, momentarily forgetting to be gentle with him, especially so close to the full moon. He doesn't complain, however, nor does he groan or grunt or inhale sharply when Darcy throws her arms around his neck and kisses him hard on the mouth. Lupin staggers backwards, falling into the wall, Darcy still attached to him by the lips. When she pulls away, Lupin laughs softly, running his fingers though her hair and tucking it behind her ears. He leans in to kiss her again, but Darcy lets go of him and backs away, smiling shyly, her cheeks flushed. His hands fall to his sides, and he straightens up, flattening his hair.
"Sorry, I just—I was hoping we could, you know—celebrate." Darcy continues to grin, and her cheeks begin to hurt from smiling for too long. "If you're up to it."
"Always," Lupin tells her, moving past her to return to his tea and paper. He smooths the newspaper out on the counter, looking up at Darcy. "I'm glad you came."
"Why wouldn't I have come?"
"It was always a fear of mine that you'd grow tired of me," he teases. "Surely anyone who is actually willing to spend so much time with me isn't at all mentally there."
"You're being stupid," Darcy laughs, standing on her toes to press another kiss to his cheek, enjoying the sight of his face turning pink. "I think I'm relatively mentally normal considering everything, and that's saying something."
Lupin reaches up into a nearby cabinet, rummaging around for two glasses. He sets them down on the counter and from a cupboard below, extracts a bottle of wine. Darcy raises her eyebrows, watching Lupin slowly pour it into their glasses. Without looking at her, he mumbles, "You're making me feel like I shouldn't be doing this."
Darcy laughs. "You probably shouldn't be."
Even so, he offers Darcy a class, raising his to toast her with a slight nod. Darcy touches her glass to his before drinking deeply. "A celebratory glass, and nothing more," he urges.
"You've been telling me all year you shouldn't be drinking with me," Darcy teases, "and yet you've never once listened to your own advice."
Lupin smiles, rubbing his face. "What can I say? I like the way you look at me when you have a few drinks in you."
"And how exactly do I look at you when I'm slightly drunk?" Darcy feels herself blushing furiously, his shameless flirting leaving her breathless.
"Have a few more drinks and you'll be able to see for yourself."
"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Darcy asks, cocking an eyebrow.
"Maybe I am." Lupin finishes his glass, refilling it, and nodding towards the sofa. He puts down the bottle and his glass on the table, fumbling in his pocket for his wand. Pointing his wand at the empty fireplace, a roaring fire suddenly appears within, making the room feel warmer than usual. With the warm summer weather heating the castle, Darcy tugs at her robes, pulling them over her head to reveal the layer beneath.
Darcy sits down, smoothing her skirt. She suddenly wishes she'd come dressed in regular clothes instead of her Hogwarts uniform—after all, with no more classes coming up, Darcy isn't technically a student anymore. She loosens the tie around her neck, pulling off her sweater at last, leaving her clad in her blouse. Lupin watches her closely all the while, the corners of his lips turned upwards as he sips at his wine and enjoys the sight of her undressing.
Darcy looks over at Lupin, her fingers in her hair, making sure her braid is still intact. "How does it feel? Having finished your final exam?" he asks, tearing his eyes away from her and back to the fire. Lupin drapes an arm over the back of the sofa, moving slightly closer to her.
"It feels—it feels—" Darcy sighs, unable to express her happiness. She looks down to her lap and sees their knees mere inches away. Moving her knee close enough to Lupin's that they're touching, Darcy looks back up at him. "I'm over the moon—ecstatic—I'm—happy."
"I'm happy for you."
Grinning again, Darcy moves closer to him, curling up at his side, and Lupin's arm falls around her shoulders. "You know," she says, reaching towards Lupin's lap to grab his hand and Darcy laces their fingers together. His thumb caresses her hand, his touch making her skin burn hot. Darcy turns her head to look at him, and she finds his face so close to her's that she almost kisses him again. "I still don't know much about you. Not as much as you know about me, that is."
"Something in particular you'd like to know?" Lupin asks, smiling down at her. "You need only ask."
Darcy thinks hard for a moment, and then for reasons unknown to even herself, asks him, "Have you ever been in love before?"
He squirms beside her. "You don't want to know about that."
Darcy frowns, looking away and closing her eyes, nuzzling into his shoulder. "You don't have to tell me."
Lupin clears his throat and pulls his arm back to his side. He quickly reaches for the glass of wine on the table, nearly throwing Darcy off of him. He drinks what's left inside his glass and Darcy drains her cup, as well. "Darcy," he sighs, pouring more wine for himself. "What do you want to know about that for, anyway?"
She doesn't fail to note the bitterness in his tone. Glancing at him again, she can see the way his face has hardened and Darcy inches away from him. "Sorry," she murmurs. "I was only curious."
"No—I'm sorry—come here, come back." Lupin picks up her hand again, tugging her closer to him. His face softens at the apologetic look on her face. "Come here, sweetheart. I'll tell you if you really want to know." He pulls on her hand again, and Darcy hesitates, but moves closer once more. "I'll tell you, but I want a secret in return."
Her face falls as she tries to think of a secret to tell Lupin—one that he doesn't know about, and one that won't make Darcy feel so depressed. The secrets she hasn't told him are ones that she'd rather keep private—memories of things that have happened at Privet Drive mostly, and after seeing how Lupin had reacted the last time he'd learned about one of those secrets, Darcy isn't keen on giving him another one. At the same time, she wonders what kind of secrets Lupin is keeping from her. She wonders if they're happy secrets, or secrets he's kept from others who would never understand. And then, as Lupin raises his eyebrows as if expecting an answer, Darcy is reminded briefly of Gemma, and wonders if Lupin's gotten the idea from her in the first place. This makes Darcy even more hesitant.
"I don't want to do that," she says quickly and quietly, looking away from him and suddenly feeling very childish. Darcy fixes her gaze instead upon the fire, and remembering that there's still more wine, hastens to refill her glass.
"All right."
Darcy fills her cup almost to the very top, leaving just a small sip in the bottle. It's then that she realizes her hands are trembling slightly, and she tries to hide it from Lupin, moving quicker than normal. But as she brings the glass to her lips, Darcy moves too fast—the wine slops over the rim and spills down her white blouse, pooling in her skirt, and when Darcy's head begins to spin from embarrassment, the glass slips from her fingers, crashing to the floor and spilling wine all over the roughspun rug, her shoes, and splashing up on her socks. "I'm sorry—" Darcy says shrilly, looking up into Lupin's face, expecting him to be angry, half expecting a swat across the face. "I'm so sorry—Professor—please don't be mad—"
"Darcy, it's all right," Lupin smiles, grabbing his wand off of the table in front of them. "Darcy—truly, it's fine. Reparo." And just like that, the shattered glass around Darcy's feet mends itself, and the cup is back to normal. Lupin sets it back on the table, smiling weakly at her. "Would you like to change into something a little more comfortable and—er—perhaps something a little less wet?"
She looks at Lupin for a moment, tilting her head slightly. Then she looks down at her shirt, where a large red stain has soaked her chest. She wonders why Lupin doesn't just clear it with another wave of his wand—it's still in his hand—and then Darcy realizes she could just clear it with a wave of her wand, but she finds she doesn't want to. To vanish it with a wave of her wand will also vanish the intimacy of the moment, and she doesn't want the moment to be spoiled. "I'm sorry for spilling the wine on your floor," she says in a low voice. "I didn't mean to."
"I know you didn't. Don't apologize," Lupin answers, slipping his wand back into his pocket and taking her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Would you like something clean to change into?"
"Yes," she breathes, allowing Lupin to help her up from the sofa. He leads her to the back room, where it seems to be a little cleaner than the last time she had seen it—however, Darcy remembers, it had been dark last time she'd been inside it. He's started organizing his things now that the school year is creeping ever closer, but his trunk still lays open in the corner of the room, an extra pair of shoes inside of it.
"Hang on for a moment," he tells her, letting go of her hands and moving towards a dresser. The top drawer is hanging open, and Lupin closes it, slowly opening the bottom drawer. He withdraws from it, two sweaters—one blue and one tan. Lupin stands up straight again, holding out the two in his hands. "Do you have a preference?"
"It doesn't matter," Darcy says sheepishly, flattening her skirt again nervously.
"Here," Lupin replies, holding out the blue one. "This one might fit you better." Darcy takes it from his hand, holding it to her chest. "Er—you can change here, if you like—here—" He opens another thin door off the bedroom, revealing a tiny washroom.
Darcy nods, smiling at him. She walks over the threshold to the washroom, where two lamps hang from the walls, brightening the room. Lupin gives her one last look as he closes the door after her, and Darcy turns to look in the small mirror. Glancing at the door, Darcy unbuttons her blouse quickly, pulling it off and replacing it with Lupin's sweater. The collar is loose when she pulls it down over her head, but it's warm and smells of him, and that's all she cares about. The sweater comes down to just about the middle of her thighs, a few inches above where the hem of her skirt is, and when Darcy stretches out her arms, the sleeves reach her fingertips.
A warmth that Darcy associates with chocolate after an encounter with a dementor floods her, and she smiles at her reflection. Darcy stoops to pick up her blouse, walking out of the washroom. Lupin is pacing slowly by the bed, but stops at the sound of the door creak open, and his eyes snap from the floor to Darcy. She flattens the front of the sweater, smiling at Lupin weakly.
"Do I look ridiculous?" Darcy asks, feeling quite so. Darcy feels a flush creep up the back of her neck as Lupin continues to look at her, his eyes occasionally flicking down the length of her body. "Why are you looking at me like that? Please say something."
"Darcy, I—" He clears his throat, taking in a deep breath. "You look, er—fine."
She doesn't answer, but catches the sight of the small smile that graces Lupin's face for a few seconds. Darcy takes a good look at his face, prematurely lined, looking quite peaky, but slightly flushed from the sun. She wishes he would move closer to her, kiss her so forcefully that she'd be knocked off her feet. "You're making me very nervous," she rasps, his eyes still fixed on her. "How would you like it if I just—"
"Did you mean it?" Lupin asks, as if he hadn't heard Darcy talking. "When you said you wanted to see me over the summer—did you mean that?"
"Yes, of course," Darcy replies, breathlessly. She and Lupin inch slightly closer to each other. She frowns, her brow furrowing. "Er—do you want to play a game of chess, or—I don't know, we could—"
"Chess is fine. Chess is—chess is fine."
Darcy smiles awkwardly again, taking a few steps towards the door. Lupin waits to move until she passes him, and he touches her back on the pretense of wiping something off her. When she glances over her shoulder at him, he lowers his hand and gives her a toothy grin. She seats herself at the small table near the cabinets and cupboards, where they usually play chess, and Lupin grabs the box of pieces and chessboard from a nearby bookshelf.
Lupin lets her win the first round, as Darcy makes sure to make terrible decisions, wondering if Lupin will do the obvious thing to take her pieces and reach her king. However, he uses his pawns more often than not, stealing her own with his knights, not bothering to move his bishops or queen at all. When Darcy finally calls 'checkmate', Lupin only folds his hands in his lap and shrugs innocently, not even having the grace to look disappointed with his loss.
"Stop going easy on me and I might share some secrets with you," she tells Lupin as he resets the board for a second match. Darcy watches his face, looking for a reaction.
"Oh?" Lupin mumbles, looking up at her from the board. "Your move."
"Each time a piece is taken, we have to tell a secret."
"Fine. Your move, Darcy."
Lupin takes one of her pawns first, and Darcy leans back in her chair, thinking hard of a secret to tell him. "I can play the piano," she admits, and Lupin raises his eyebrows, smiling at this admission as if impressed. "Not very well, but I took lessons for a little while. Petunia's vile friend had suggested it, and that was that."
Darcy takes one of his knights, and Lupin puts a finger to his chin, rubbing it while deep in thought. Finally, after a brief silence, Lupin comes back to his senses. "I never learned how to swim," he laughs. "I'm sure I could figure it out on my own, but—I've always been hesitant about swimming in the lake for that reason. That and the giant squid."
"The giant squid isn't so bad," Darcy answers, watching Lupin move one of rooks forward a few spaces. "The squid's never bothered us once while we were in the lake."
It's quiet for another minute and then Lupin captures her knight. "Your turn," he says, brushing his hair out of his eyes and grinning.
"Okay," Darcy sighs, thinking again. "I broke my leg in first year. Fell off my broomstick. It was our first flying lesson."
"You really are terrible at flying, aren't you?" Lupin jokes. "I find it hard to believe that James Potter's daughter can't fly a broomstick."
"Look, you've seen Harry fly," Darcy blushes slightly, rolling her eyes. "He's good enough for the both of us." Darcy overtakes one of his pawns and looks up into his eyes expectantly.
Lupin drums his fingers on the table, considering her. Darcy sits up in her chair, wrapping her arms around her, and Lupin's eyes flick up and down her again, his lips curling upwards. "All right," he says finally. "I've never been in love before."
"Never?"
He shakes his head slowly.
"But—" Darcy struggles to find a response. She opens and closes her mouth, finally settling on, "How?"
To her great surprise, Lupin laughs. "Not everyone is as forgiving as you are, Darcy. Do you truly imagine that many women are keen to fall in love with a werewolf? I count myself extremely lucky that you're still comfortable in the same room as me—and I'm sorry, again—for everything. I don't think I've told you lately."
"You don't have to apologize to me," Darcy says, suddenly feeling quite sad for him. Instead of resuming play, the two of them look at each other for a long time. All she wants is for Lupin to know how much she loves him—for him to know that him being a werewolf would never make her change her mind. It seem absolutely impossible to her that no one had ever fallen in love with him, that he had never fallen in love with anyone else. Surely women ached for him as she did—surely women became quickly enamored with his smile, his ruffled hair in his face, just as she had. "Professor, I—I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" Lupin asks, sounding genuinely curious. He smiles at her weakly. "I've been alone for a long time, and I'm used to it. I can take care of myself. But even so, I—" His smile fades as he watches her, and Lupin looks down at the chessboard, fingering one of his discarded pawns. "Darcy—all this time we've been spending together—"
"Professor Lupin? Professor Lupin!"
The sudden interruption makes them both jump. Darcy turns in her chair to look at the door, and then she looks back at Lupin, who seems to be breathing a little harder than before.
"Professor Lupin, please—I need to talk to Darcy—it's an—emergency!"
"Emily?" Darcy pants, her heart hammering, and she jumps from the chair and leaps to the door, Lupin on her heels. She opens the door quickly, and sure enough, Emily is standing there, catching her breath. Emily glances at Lupin for a split second and holds up a hand to greet him, and then her eyes sweep over Darcy, noticing the sweater hanging off her lanky frame. "Emily—what's wrong? What's happened? Are you all right?"
"I just—ran—the entire—way—" Emily inhales deeply, clutching dramatically at a stitch in her side. "Can I—come in—just for a—second?"
Darcy turns to Lupin, who nods and holds the door open for Emily to cross the threshold. He closes the door behind her, watching as Emily carefully observes her surroundings, still breathing heavily. She glances first towards the sofa, where the bottle of wine sits on the table beside two glasses, and then she looks to the table where their chessboard is still set up, some pieces set off to the side. "What's wrong, Emily?" Darcy asks, leading her over to the sofa and setting her down. "Has something happened to Harry?"
Lupin watches from behind the sofa, quiet. Emily looks at Darcy, and then at Lupin, and then back again. "No," she answers, and Darcy's heart rate begins to slow. "It's Hagrid—he's lost Buckbeak's appeal—"
"No!" Darcy cries, holding a hand to her mouth. "But—all of the work we did! How could he have lost?"
Emily's face turns very serious. "They brought the executioner with them today," she explains. "I was talking to Harry and we saw them—Fudge is here, and another Ministry wizard, and the executioner—Gemma says it's someone called Macnair."
Lupin's voice makes them both turn their heads towards him immediately. "She's right," he says. "They were going down to Hagrid's after Harry and his friends finished with the exam."
"But—if they brought the executioner with them to the appeal…" Darcy slowly turns back to Emily, her eyebrows knitted with worry. Her blood pressure begins to rise again, her heart sinking into her stomach. "They never meant for Hagrid to—they aren't going to—? Not today—?"
"At sundown," Emily whispers. "Harry wanted me to come find you—I knew exactly where you must be—I ran the whole way here—"
Darcy gets to her feet suddenly and nearly trips over her own feet as she makes her way to the chess table, grabbing her blouse off the back of her chair. "I should be there," she mutters. "I need to be with Hagrid—he shouldn't have to do this alone—unbelievable—"
Without thinking, Darcy grabs the end of the sweater she's wearing and starts to pull it over her head, but both Emily and Lupin clear their throats, trying to get her attention. "Darcy, what are you doing?" Emily hisses, her eyes wide.
Darcy flushes and looks at Lupin, his cheeks slightly pink too, who turns away at the sight of her bare stomach. "Er—sorry…" she coughs, glancing at Lupin's back and quickly replacing the sweater with her blouse, leaving her red and gold tie hanging loose around her neck.
Lupin turns back around and takes the sweater from her, pulling his wand out of back pocket at the sight of the red stain on Darcy's shirt. "Tergeo," he says, and Lupin's wand siphons off the wine on her shirt. They look at each other with small, awkward smiles for a moment.
"I have to go," she whispers, as if Emily isn't watching them closely from the sofa. Slowly, Emily rises to her feet, walking quickly towards the door. "I have to go be with Hagrid."
As she turns to leave, to follow Emily out of his apartments, Lupin says very clearly, "No."
Darcy stops abruptly, turning on her heels. "What?" she scoffs. "What do you mean 'no'?"
"Darcy—you shouldn't. You're not supposed to be out on the grounds around sunset—especially not you and Harry—"
"Hagrid is my friend," Darcy retorts, narrowing her eyes at him. "He needs to have someone with him. I won't let him go through this alone."
"You have to," Lupin answers louder. "You can see him tomorrow, but I can't let you go out so late. And besides, Hagrid probably doesn't want you to have to watch his hippogriff—"
"Fine," Darcy snaps. She looks at Emily, who nods, and Darcy resumes her trek towards the door. "I need to be with Harry."
As the door to Lupin's office closes behind Darcy and Emily, Emily looks warily at Darcy. "Darcy, you're not actually going to listen to—"
Darcy pauses at the base of a staircase. Emily is halfway up it before she realizes Darcy isn't beside her anymore. As Emily turns to look incredulously at Darcy, Darcy says, "Tell Harry, Hermione, and Ron to meet me in the entrance hall. And tell them to bring the cloak." But Emily only beams at her. However, Emily's smile only makes Darcy nervous, but she won't abandon Hagrid—not now, not when Buckbeak is about to be executed. Darcy's heart begins to pick up speed again, remember that Lupin will likely check the map to see if she's gone, but she will not turn back. She raises her eyebrows at Emily, who hasn't moved. "What are you waiting for? Now!"
Emily turns quickly and races up the steps two at a time. Darcy looks around the empty corridor, licking her lips. As she makes her way down to the entrance hall, a sudden thought occurs to her that makes her feel slightly better about going against Lupin's wishes.
I'm finished with my exams. What's the worst that could happen to me now?