AN: Hello again! This chapter goes out to Venquine1990, who wrote what has to be one of the most polite "Please update soon!" reviews I've ever read. Of course, I couldn't forget about the rest of the readers, followers, and favorites, who continue to astound me with their sheer numbers. And no chapter would be complete without the thanking of reviewers: Guest, Rumour of an Alchemist, Jmw, Kairan1979, Venquine1990, ILoveGeorgeEads, becuzitswrong, Ari989, To the TARDIS, serialkeller, Magdylena Black, Tellur, Lady Sabine of Macayhill, MariusDarkwolf, Wonderbee31, The Submarauder, ultima-owner, magitech, Fibinaci, and B00kw0rm92. I did manage to respond to a few of you before my phone died, but to the rest of you, thanks for the kind words and the patience.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise.
On Thursday morning, the third year girls were frantically zooming around the dormitory, trying to get ready for that day's classes. Typically, they were woken by Hermione's alarm. Yet, last night, she had forgotten to set it, and it was her internal clock (and her shriek) that alerted them to their impending tardiness.
"Has anyone seen my hairspray?" Parvati called out desperately.
"Right here!" Hermione held it up victoriously before fixing her tie.
"Here Hermione, let me put on your concealer." Lavender grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and planted her firmly in front of the mirror.
"I don't need any makeup," Hermione told her, trying to brush the insistent girl off.
"Do you want everyone to know how tired you are?" Lavender asked incredulously, pulling back to give her a disbelieving look.
"Well, no," Hermione admitted, shifting.
"It's lightweight, so you'll hardly even feel it. I promise," Lavender said earnestly.
"I guess," She acquiesced. She was going to regret this later, she just knew it.
"Great!" Lavender smeared some of it on underneath her eyes. "So what classes do you have today?"
"Umm, Potions, Defense, Arithmancy, Muggle Studies…" Hermione ticked them off on her fingers and squirmed impatiently.
"There! All done," Lavender announced. "See, you look so much more awake!"
Hermione turned back to the mirror and studied her reflection. The makeup did hide the bags under her eyes. It was only the first week, and Hermione was already beginning to feel burnt out. It would only be a matter of time before some of her more perceptive friends noticed that something was wrong. Maybe she could get some more of that concealer by mail order…
"I'm so glad we're all taking Defense today!" Parvati gushed as she rushed back into the room, shaking out her practically perfect hair.
The third year Gryffindors were some of the last students to have Professor Lupin. All of the kids were tense, despite the others' assurances that Professor Lupin was quite a bit of fun, and a good teacher on top of it. Their last two professors for that position were forever imprinted in their minds. He hadn't seemed at all full of himself like Lockhart, but there was still a chance that he could be like Quirrel: a mild-mannered man to most, but secretly an awful, terrible person.
"I hope it's something fun," Hermione wished fervently.
"Can Defense even be fun?" Lavender asked, twisting her hair into a bun.
"I guess it could be," Parvati said doubtfully.
"We'll just have to find out, won't we?" Hermione finished up relatively quickly. "Are you guys ready?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Let's go."
Breakfast was an unusually quiet affair. Their section of the table was almost completely silent, save for Ron's occasional choking noise as he inhaled his food too fast. The mood was so subdued that Snape wouldn't stop glancing over at the Gryffindor table suspiciously.
FLASH!
"Colin!" All of them groaned in unison, turning towards the culprit.
He shrugged. "It was a historic moment. You guys were finally quiet during a meal. I wanted to document it."
"Ugh!" Lavender speared a pancake onto her plate. "Do you really have to do that so early in the morning?"
"Maybe you guys should've been quiet yesterday during lunch," Colin replied.
Professor Burbage appeared out of thin air right behind him. "Colin, were you taking pictures without asking again?"
He turned around, a sullen look on his face. "Maybe."
She sighed. "Next time, at least wait until later, when everyone's a bit more…alert," She requested politely.
"Okay." He fingered the capture button on his camera again. "Professor Burbage, may I please take a picture of you?"
"Yes, Colin." She smiled prettily at him.
"No, no, you can't look like that!" He cried. "You need to have that frown you had on earlier."
"I was frowning?" Her eyes went wide as she turned to the others for confirmation.
"You were," Lee told her. "But you should keep it up. Nothing makes Colin feel worse about taking pictures more than your frown."
Colin nodded eagerly. "My dad actually wanted me to take this one. He couldn't believe anyone would be able to make me feel bad about taking pictures, so I said I would take a picture of your frown and send it to him for proof."
"Well…okay, if your dad really wanted it." Burbage stepped back and tried to arrange her features into a frown.
"That…does not look right," Seamus declared.
"I'm trying, but I can't do it unless I'm sincere," She huffed.
"That's okay," Colin decided. "I'm bound to do it again, so I'll just get your picture later."
"No, Colin!" She shouted after him; but it was no use. Colin had already taken off. She sighed again and plopped down at the Gryffindor table. "So, what's on the schedule today?"
"Well, I have Charms, and then Herbology, and after that is lunch—"Katie began.
"Oh, that's nice." Burbage leaned over and snagged some eggs. "What about you guys?" She directed her question to the third years. Her eyes were unusually bright.
"Um, well, we have to start out with Potions," Neville barely whispered, shrinking down in his seat.
Burbage pursed her lips. "If you have any problems with Snape, Neville, just let me know. Even if it's the same thing that he normally does, I want you to tell me."
"Are you sure?" Neville poked at his toast.
"Of course I am. I haven't been able to tell him off for treating my students badly in months," She joked.
Neville smiled weakly, looking a little surer of himself.
"And what classes do you all have after lunch?" She asked nonchalantly.
"We all have Defense together," Ron piped up.
"That should be fun." Charity nodded encouragingly. "You know, I'm sort of running late. I need to get to class early so that I can set up the microwave. It's not going to work in the castle of course, but I figured I'd show them anyways. But you all just let me know if you want to adjust your schedule, okay? Hermione, dear, are you alright?"
Hermione was about to fall face first into her breakfast. She rose up with a start. "Oh yes, I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night, that's all."
"If you're sure." Burbage gave her one last concerned glance before setting off for the Muggle Studies classroom.
"Harry, could you please stay after for a moment?" Lupin inquired, popping up by Harry's shoulder just as the boy was about to exit.
"Sure." Harry dropped his book bag by the door and followed Lupin back into his office. It wasn't very personal, though it did have several gadgets and baubles. Almost all of them looked old and worn, a bit like Lupin himself, who looked only slightly healthier than he had on the train.
"Would you like some tea? I have some time before my next class," Lupin offered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Oh, um, sure, thanks." Harry sat in a comfy chair and openly goggled at some of the things Lupin had on his desk. One resembled a compass, yet it didn't have directions on it, but rather stages of the moon. Next to it was an in-depth drawing of a strange beast which reminded Harry strongly of a manta ray.
Lupin came back with the tea and set it down on top of his desk. He poured a cup for both of them, but didn't sit down. Instead, he crossed the room to a large window that overlooked the Black Lake. Harry followed his gaze, but the only thing he saw was the tree he and his friends sometimes sat under. There was nothing particularly interesting about that tree, but Lupin watched it just the same.
"Harry," Lupin started so suddenly that Harry almost spilled his tea. "I understand that Professor McGonagall and Professor Burbage had a talk with you earlier this week about Sirius Black. I won't try to bother you with specifics, because I already know the story. You see, there is a part of the tale that I asked them to omit, because I…I didn't want to…." He was quiet for a long moment.
When it looked as though he wasn't going to continue, Harry cleared his throat. "Professor Lupin?" He prodded gently.
"Harry, Peter Pettigrew, James Potter, and Sirius Black had a fourth friend. The four of them were very close, and they did almost everything together. They called themselves the Marauders. That fourth boy was me."
Harry paused. "You were friends with my father?"
Lupin smiled, though he didn't look at all joyful. "Yes, I was. I knew your mother fairly well too, though we weren't very close."
"Oh." Harry thought for a bit. "Do you…d'you think you could tell me about them?"
"Perhaps some other time. Right now Harry, I wanted to talk to you about something a little more…urgent."
"You want to talk about Black," Harry stated bluntly.
Lupin didn't look surprised. "Yes, I do."
"I'm not going to go after him, if that's what you're worried about," Harry snapped, irritated.
"I didn't expect you would."
"Oh," Harry said again, feeling guilty. "Well, I was actually going to." He felt as though he should be totally honest with Lupin.
"I know," He replied simply. "Your friends have some very good heads on their shoulders. That's not to say that you don't, of course. Just that you're prone to making some very rash decisions. You're like James that way." Lupin turned to smile at Harry, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know, you look exactly like him. Except for the eyes. You have your mother's eyes."
Harry felt a deep hunger within him. Professor Lupin knew about his parents. He had grown up with them. He probably knew funny, embarrassing, and just plain boring details about him. Harry had never gotten to experience that. He had no idea what they would do or say in his position, or what sort of people they would be friends with, or even what food they would eat.
"But we'll save the reminiscing for another time," Lupin intervened swiftly. "Harry, Black is incredibly dangerous. Not because he is a criminal, but because of the information he knows about many people. There were very few wizards and witches granted with such a large amount of information, and unfortunately, Black was one of them. He was trusted implicitly during the war. We all believed that there was no way he could possibly betray any of us. We knew there was a spy, of course. There had to be, considering the amount of top secret information that got out to the Death Eaters. We just never guessed that it would be him."
He strode back over to his desk and sat down in his chair, folding his hands on top of the desk. "Black is not only an accomplished duelist, but he is an incredibly intelligent wizard with good instincts. He went to Hogwarts. He and James were like brothers. He knew every single one of the Potter family's secrets, and he most likely took them all to the Death Eaters."
"Professor?" Harry cut in, feeling cold all over. "Why would he do that to his best friend?"
Lupin stopped, and his eyes glazed over for a moment. "Just another one of the mysteries that I suppose we will never know the answer to, Harry. What you must remember is that Voldemort offered his followers many things: money, power, respect. And for those that were very…mentally ill, he offered them a way to kill and torture without repercussions. And we mustn't forget about his original followers, the ones who joined to keep the pureblood way of life above that of those who they considered inferior. Black may have been offered any or all of these things in exchange for some of the Light's most protected secrets."
Harry leaned back in his chair, taking it all in. So Black had given up his parents just for a little bit of gold, or even for a chance to stamp out people like Hermione, Dean, and his mother. The fury was building up inside of him again, and he took a few deep breaths to keep himself calm. He was not going to go after Black, no matter how tempting it was.
Lupin leaned in closer and looked directly in Harry's eyes. "So Harry, you must always be on your guard. There are some things you think may be unknown, but chances are, someone somewhere does know about them. I wish I didn't have to say this to you, but it's true. Black could be anywhere. There is not a single place that is well and truly safe."
Harry felt a chill run up his spine and searched desperately for a new topic. "Professor Lupin, why didn't you let me face the boggart?"
Lupin blinked, clearly thrown. "Truthfully Harry, I was expecting your worst fear to be Lord Voldemort. Imagine the panic in class if that were to be the case."
Harry frowned, barely registering the fact that this was the second time Lupin had said Voldemort's name. "Well, I thought it would be, but then I remembered the dementors."
Lupin's eyebrows rose. "Ah, yes, the dementors. Very wise of you Harry. You see, dementors prey on negative emotions, and the strongest of those is fear. Essentially, your worst fear is fear itself."
Another thought occurred to Harry. "Do you know why the dementors were worse for me than for the others?"
Lupin nodded his head slowly. "I'm not certain, but I believe it is because you have had a more difficult life than the others. You see, the more negative emotions you have experienced in your life, the more the dementors have to feed on. You must've seemed like a tasty treat indeed, after what you've been through. Don't worry Harry, it's not because of any personal weakness you have."
Harry glanced up sharply. How was it that the man just knew what Harry was thinking?
Lupin smiled. "Another bit of James in you. Now, unfortunately, I must beg you to please take off, as my next class is starting soon. However, if you ever need to speak with someone, about Black, or your parents, or even your schoolwork, my door is always open."
Harry thanked him and made to leave.
"Oh, and Harry?"
He turned back to glance at Professor Lupin again.
"Remember, your guard should always be up."
Romilda Vane was not stupid. Remarkably short-sighted? Perhaps. Exceedingly self-centered? Indeed. But stupid she was not. Romilda had known her place in the world for years, and in one night, it had been shattered. She came from a long line of Ravenclaws, an unbroken string of Ravenclaws, and if her family actually cared about her, then perhaps she would be worried about being disowned. But Romilda remained invisible to them, and so she wasn't really all that concerned at all.
Romilda was the middle child of an impossibly strict, by-the-book Pureblood family. Her older sister, Radella, was considered to be one of the most eligible bachelorettes in the Wizarding world. She was beautiful, smart, and from a good family. The Vanes were impossibly happy to have her as their daughter, as she was almost guaranteed to bring about a profitable match for the family. Though purebloods generally didn't like having daughters, as it led to some sticky issues regarding inheritance, as well as signifying the possible end of the family line, at least they had managed to get a girl that wouldn't be "difficult."
Romilda, by her family's definition, was difficult. She wasn't nearly as pretty as Radella, nor as smart. She had a tendency of running her mouth when she shouldn't, and she got up to more than her fair share of trouble. She had scared off most of the suitable boys her age, and her family had long since decided that she was bound to grow up as an old spinster with no one willing to marry her. Worst of all, she was yet another daughter, which meant that the Vanes still didn't have an heir. At least, they didn't have an heir until nearly four years ago.
Ridley Vane was an absolute terror, but the Vanes saw him as a precious little piece of cargo they could lug about to every social event in pureblood society, to show off that, at least for one more generation, the Vanes were not going to disappear. He was their perfect prince, the one that would lift them up out of oblivion and back into the high life. Something most didn't know was that the Vanes had begun to struggle financially, though they still threw impossibly extravagant parties every year.
After Ridley had survived the first two years, which were some of the riskiest in magical children, the Vanes had begun to forget about Romilda, which suited her just fine. It left her time to plot. Romilda wasn't going to end up as a spinster. She wasn't. There was simply no way. There had to be someone out there that would take her in. Romilda didn't want to be alone. Most of all, she didn't want to have to be alone with her parents as Radella manipulated the lives of her children and Ridley traveled the world in search of some fortune, as though an entire vault full of galleons would just lay around for him to find.
Romilda had to hold on for a little longer. Maybe if she could find someone who didn't know much about the Vanes. One of the smaller pureblood families, perhaps. Someone who had no clue what was going on behind the scenes, someone who wouldn't suspect a thing. Oh sure, Romilda would really like to love her future husband, but after hearing enough stories from some of the older women at parties, she had become more and more desperate. She would take anyone at this point, as long as they had a house she could stay at and they didn't think of her as a waste of space.
Staying at Vane Villa had made it difficult to find a boy who fit the bill. But upon getting into Hogwarts, her eyes had immediately scanned the Great Hall for possible candidates. It hadn't taken long before her gaze snapped on her target. He was perfect.
Neville Longbottom would never know what hit him.
A quick note to all readers:
I wrote Romilda using significant inspiration from a fic which I can no longer seem to find on this site, and which I don't recall the name of. It's a shame, because I truly enjoyed it, and I read it multiple times. Have I mentioned that I don't usually think about reading the title of a fic? It was the first story I read that I genuinely liked Romilda, and it's part of my motivation for writing her this way. That Romilda wasn't perfect, and she made mistakes, but she seemed a lot less crazed than she came across in canon. I would direct you all to read it, but as I said, I can't find it anywhere. Just wanted to give credit where credit is due.
Reply to anonymous reviewer Jmw:
I'm glad you liked it. I was really nervous about messing with that pairing, but now I'm happy with how it turned out. Writing them together that way just made sense, I guess. It felt easier than trying to write a pairing that I wouldn't have enjoyed. Thanks for reviewing!