AN: The idea for this chapter's been stuck in my head for months now, which explains why it came so quickly after the last one. I just found out that LU's officially over 1,000 favorites! That means we're over 1,000 in favorites, followers, and reviews. I couldn't be more thankful, especially to the wonderful reviews left by Lady Sabine of Macayhill, ultima-owner, Fibinaci, Poetheather1, Ari989, Tellur, Narcissa-Weasly, MariusDarkwolf, magitech, Dark Neko 4000, Guest, ReadPaxJoy, elmoryakhan, and Beside Moonlight.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise.
Christmas holidays approached quickly at Hogwarts, and once again, Charity's Gryffindors managed to surprise her. A large majority chose to stay at the castle for break, and it didn't take a Ravenclaw to figure out why. It seemed the lions were still shaken up after Black's break-in, and they weren't allowing Harry to be left alone. For the unlucky third year, this was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it was rather nice to have people so concerned about his well-being after having to put up with the Dursleys for so long, but a curse because he could hardly go anywhere without someone tagging along.
On Christmas Eve, he found himself in Professor Burbage's office, a warm cup of tea in his hands and a plate full of biscuits sitting in front of him on a mahogany coffee table. Even Ron had noticed that their Head of House had been acting slightly off for the past few weeks, and she rarely ever spoke to them of her own volition anymore. After finally disentangling himself from his friends, Harry had escaped the Gryffindor Common Room and knocked on her door.
Burbage sat directly across from him in a wing backed armchair, legs crossed and back ramrod straight. Her straw-like blonde hair shone from the light of the fire, but her eyes lacked the happy energy he was used to seeing. She sipped her tea quietly, apparently unwilling to break the uncomfortable silence. Clearly, it was up to Harry to do something.
He cleared his throat and fidgeted when she didn't respond. "Professor Burbage?"
She gave a slight shriek and jumped nearly a foot in the air, causing her tea to splash everywhere. "Oh my goodness! I didn't mean to—oh, Evanesco!"
"I—I'm sorry, Professor, I wasn't trying to startle you," Harry stammered.
She smiled dully at him. "Not to worry, Harry, it was completely my fault. I'm afraid I got lost in my thoughts and forgot you were even there. What a dreadful hostess I'm being, was there something you wished to discuss with me?"
"Er, well," Harry fished for a polite way to phrase what he wanted to say, but there didn't seem to be one. "Erm, the others and I have been, um, I guess noticing that you haven't been exactly…your usual self?" He finished meekly, unsure of how she would react.
"Hmm? Really? I—I didn't think I was acting that differently." Burbage averted her eyes and bit into a chocolate biscuit.
"Yeah, well, we were just wondering if you were okay?" Harry glanced down at the carpet, tracing the swirly pattern on the rug.
"I've been going through a rough time lately," Burbage admitted slowly. "You see, someone's pointed out to me that sometimes I'm a little too…oh, what's a good word for it? Nosy, I suppose. I don't want people to think that I'm being rude or—or gossipy, and I'm trying to stay out of people's business."
Harry paused for a moment and tried to wrap his head around this. "But, that's what we all like about you!"
Burbage stared at him. "That I don't know how to mind my own business?"
"No!" Harry scrambled for something better to say. "That you care. All of the other professors just sit by and watch and take points when they need to. But you actually talk to us and try and fix our problems. You're the only one in the entire school who won't yell at us or make fun of us—well, except for Professor Lupin." He saw her wince at the name.
"Thank you very much Harry, but maybe I should—"
"Does this have anything to do with Professor Lupin?" He interrupted.
She blinked in surprise. "I don't know where you got that idea." She laughed nervously.
"It does, doesn't it? What did he say to you?" Harry leaned forward in his chair, captivated.
"Nothing that wasn't justified." She remained stiff and uneasy.
Harry frowned. Perhaps this wasn't the best way to approach that topic. "How did you and Professor Lupin become friends?"
She laughed again, this time with a tint of bitterness. "Who said we're friends?"
"Maybe you're not right now, but we could all tell that you were," Harry pointed out. "You guys were always talking to each other, and he came to see you that night we all slept in the Common Room."
She grinned wryly. "I guess we were friends, before I messed everything up." She grimaced at some memory that Harry wasn't privy to. "I approached him after the first staff meeting of the year. The headmistress had told me that he was friends with Sirius Black, and I wanted to see how he was dealing with everything. He was very shy, but after a while, he opened up, and we could talk about anything—almost anything," She corrected herself quickly.
"So you were the one to talk to him?" Harry double-checked.
Charity nodded. "I was usually the one to initiate contact. I was so surprised when he showed up in the Common Room. Maybe he didn't want to be friends in the first place." She uncrossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees.
Harry shook his head immediately. "I don't think that's true," He disagreed. "If someone doesn't want to be friends with you, then they usually aren't. They don't have to be friends with you."
"Remus is too kind to say that someone bothers him."
"Except for when you two got in a fight," Harry guessed correctly.
Charity pursed her lips. "Yes. I think I pushed him too far."
Harry tilted his head to the side in confusion. "What did you do?"
Charity sighed again. "I—I pried," She confessed. "I knew he was uncomfortable, and he didn't want to talk about it, but I just wanted to help him. I thought that if he had someone to talk to, then he'd feel better. But instead, I made a mess of everything! And now I don't have even one friend my age—although all of you are lovely, of course," She added hastily.
Harry mulled it over. "I don't always want to talk about my problems," He told her. "Most of the time, it's just enough to know that if I do, there are people who would listen."
Charity's expression cleared. "So—so you don't talk to people?"
Harry shrugged. "I do sometimes. But other times, I'd just rather keep it to myself. Or sometimes, I don't want to talk about my problem with a certain person. Like…I don't talk to Ron when I'm missing my parents, because he doesn't really get it. He still has his family all around him. Since Neville understands, I talk to him instead."
Charity began to smile. "So what you're saying is, Remus just needed some space."
"Yeah, I guess so." Harry readjusted his glasses.
"Well why didn't he just say so!" She burst out, jumping out of her seat.
"Maybe he didn't know how," Harry suggested.
"Harry, has anyone told you that you're very bright?"
He flushed. "I'm not really. I just try and imagine myself in someone else's shoes. That's all it takes."
She beamed at him. "Who would have known that Harry Potter is full of so much empathy? Now, I hate to kick you out after all the assistance you've given me, but I need to figure out a way to apologize."
Harry grinned and got to his feet, snagging a biscuit for the walk back to the Common Room. "S'alright, Professor Burbage. I'm just glad you'll be okay now."
Burbage was nearly bouncing with excitement. "Don't worry, Harry. After this, I'll be better than okay."
Neville was awoken by three bodies bouncing on his bed. "What's going on?" He asked groggily.
"It's Christmas, Nev!" Dean announced, as though it should've been the most obvious thing in the world.
Neville shot up in excitement. How could he have forgotten that it was Christmas? Most of his friends had stuck around for break. Seamus and Parvati had been told that they had to be home for Christmas, as had Leann, Alicia, and Lee. Oliver had to endure one livid and one very weepy Howler before he was allowed to stay at school. Gran hadn't even put up much of a fight when he'd requested to be there, as she wasn't particularly looking forward to going back to Longbottom Hall, for some reason. She was, however, taking him to see his parents on Boxing Day, which he was both hoping for and dreading.
Neville sifted through the gigantic mound of sweets given to him by friends, surprised to find an ocean blue jumper from Mrs. Weasley. She had knitted one for Dean and Harry too, and Ron, of course.
"Reckon she must've started real early to get these all done in time." Dean let out a low whistle. "How long does one take her, d'you know, Ron?"
Ron shrugged. "No bloody clue," He responded through a mouthful of chocolate frog.
Neville tossed aside a book on manners from Gran, and found an unexpected gift at the bottom of the pile, done up in pretty silver paper with a large blue bow on top. He almost didn't want to open it, it looked so perfect. But ultimately his curiosity won out, and he tore into the package, to find…a book? Glancing at the front page, he nearly dropped the thing in surprise.
To Neville Longbottom, one of the greatest friends a witch could have
Happy Christmas,
Romilda Vane
He tried hard not to frown at the title; it was the very same book his grandmother had given him. But hang on—this one was considerably lighter than the other. Flipping past the front page, he beamed as he realized that the book was hollowed out as a secret hiding place. Even better, the tops of the pages had been left intact, so that the book appeared to be normal. He could just make out the title of the first chapter: How to Hide the Skeletons in Your Closet.
"Whoa! What is that?" Ron piped up.
"I dunno," Harry replied, holding a thin, long package.
"Well, go on and open it, then," Dean urged him.
Harry took a deep breath and carefully ripped away the boring brown paper. All four boys gave audible gasps as they caught sight of the gleaming broomstick.
"Is that what I think it is?" Neville whispered.
"Bloody hell!" Ron nearly fell off his bed.
"Oliver's gonna flip," Dean mumbled in disbelief.
There, lying innocently on Harry's bed, was a brand new Firebolt. Neville could barely contain his envy at the sight of its glittering gold handle, and he was far from a flier.
"Who sent it to you? Is there a card?" Dean wanted to know, edging closer to it.
Harry checked the parcel thoroughly and shook his head. "Nope. Not a single thing."
Neville frowned. "That doesn't seem right. If someone spends that much money on you, they'd want you to know, so you can thank them. At least, that's what Gran always taught me."
Ron shrugged. "Maybe they don't want Harry to know. Or maybe they want him to figure it out."
Harry snorted. "Well, I know one thing. It's definitely not the Dursleys."
Ron quickly voiced his opinion. "I bet you anything it's Dumbledore. Think about it, he sent you that Invisibility Cloak in first year—"
Dean didn't agree. "I don't think Dumbledore would spend so many galleons on him, though. Besides, how would Dumbledore hear about his broom being smashed to bits?"
Ron appeared rather put out at being told he was wrong. "Fine, whatever, forget who gave it to you. Just think Harry, the match against Slytherin is coming up soon, wait until Malfoy sees you on this!"
Neville had a sudden thought. "Maybe it was Professor Lupin."
All three boys turned to look at him incredulously.
"Lupin?" Dean echoed. "Neville, Lupin can barely afford to buy himself clothes. What makes you think he's got the kind of money to drop on a new broom for Harry?"
"Hang on," Ron interrupted. "Doesn't it make sense? Lupin likes Harry, doesn't he? What if, when he was away, he heard about Harry's broom and picked up one in Diagon Alley?"
"Away? Lupin wasn't away, he was ill," Harry said.
"He wasn't at the Hospital Wing," Dean remembered. "You were there almost the whole weekend, and none of us saw any sign of him."
Harry groaned. "Forget it. It wasn't Lupin," He told them firmly.
"Aren't you coming downstairs?" Cormac poked his head into the dorm, eyes growing wide at the sight of the Firebolt. "Wow! You have to bring that to the Common Room! C'mon." He disappeared again, and the other three boys trudged downstairs. Neville began to follow them, only to realize that Romilda had stayed over break as well, and he hadn't gotten her a thing.
Thinking fast, he glanced around his bed and in his trunk. He didn't have much that would really be considered a suitable gift. Everything he took with him to Hogwarts was either a necessity or something very important to him. He was beginning to fear that he'd have nothing to give her and would have to tell her so when he spotted a pale blue petal in his desk drawer.
Of course! How had he forgotten? It wasn't all that special to him, but he was sure that she would love it. He extracted the small plant and carefully wet his fingers using the sink in the loo. Gently, Neville rubbed a petal between his fingers and watched as the plant sprang to life. He descended the steps slowly, keeping it hidden behind his back, walking right into what seemed to be an evenly split Common Room.
"This could win us the Cup!" Oliver was pleading.
Katie glared at him. "At the cost of Harry's life?"
"You don't know the broom's jinxed," Cormac said.
"You don't know it isn't," Percy replied coolly.
Avoiding the confrontation, Neville sidled over to a small, dark-haired girl in the corner, who was watching the events closely. He took her momentary distraction to study her. Romilda, with her ice blue eyes and dark brown hair, looked incredibly delicate and fragile. He was almost certain that she wouldn't care for being referred to as such, and refrained from voicing his thoughts out loud.
"I got you something," He muttered quietly.
She whirled around to face him, looking surprised. "Oh, you didn't have to do that."
He scuffed the floor shyly. "S'only fair. Thanks for the book, by the way."
His gratitude didn't appear to register with her. "Is fairness important to you, then?"
He clutched the flower more tightly. "Er, yeah. Sorting Hat wanted to put me into Hufflepuff, but I'm happy I went here instead."
She smiled gently at him. "If it helps, I think Gryffindor's glad to have you here too."
He jerked back at her words, feeling an uncomfortable flush crawl up his neck. She sensed his unease and changed the subject.
"So, what did you get me?" She asked teasingly.
He thrust the flower out to her, noting her slight disappointment was masked very quickly. "It's not just an ordinary flower," He said, worried that she would hate it. "I know you said that you're not good with keeping plants or animals alive, but with this, you don't have to. See, if you get it wet, then it stays fresh for the whole day. But if you keep it dry, then it's just like a pressed flower, and you don't have to care for it at all."
She stayed silent, so he continued, feeling more and more bumbling as he went on. "My mum loved them a lot, and she kept them all over Longbottom Hall. Gran put them away in a box, where I found them when I was nine. I hid the box under my bed, and I always take a few to Hogwarts with me."
She began shaking her head. "Oh no, I couldn't take something that was your mother's. Don't you want to keep it?"
Neville laughed quietly. "She had literally hundreds, all over the place. I won't miss just one. But thank you."
Romilda swallowed and lightly took the flower from him. "It's such a pretty shade of blue," She marveled. "Now I feel like I gave you such a lousy gift."
"Don't," Neville instructed her. "It was great. Just what I needed, actually. Did you know Gran gave me that same book today?"
She smiled slyly at him. "Really? I had no idea."
He stopped short and struggled not to gawk at her. "You—you knew? But how?"
She blushed. "Your grandmother and I talk every so often. She asked me what I thought of her idea of your Christmas present. I thought it was horrendous, but naturally I couldn't tell her that, so I said that it would be a fine present, and then I bought a copy to give to you. I hoped it would make you feel better."
"It did, thanks."
"It's horrible, the way she treats you. She—I don't know how she is to your face, but behind your back, she acts like you're a huge disappointment to her, and that you know nothing. And I just wanted to make sure that you knew that wasn't true."
Neville shrugged, not all that shocked. "That's pretty much how she is to me, honestly. It's not that she's trying to be mean, it's only that—she keeps comparing me to my dad. Since…since what happened, she kinda forgot that he ever had any flaws at all, and she won't stop measuring me up against a man who never existed."
Romilda's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, but that's awful!"
Neville shrugged again. "I s'pose. I'm used to it, though. Anyway, enough about me. Why didn't you go home for the holiday?"
She looked away. "They won't know I'm gone. If I were there, I'd just get in the way. It's better if I stay here, so I don't bother them."
"But don't they care for you?"
Romilda pulled her cloak tighter. "Not really. Besides, at least this way, I'm with friends." And she smiled at him in a way that made him feel both happy and sad at the same time.
Remus was too busy dodging Charity to remember to avoid other people, which most likely explains how the twins were able to ambush him so early in the morning. He'd been keeping a careful eye out for the blonde Muggle Studies professor, wishing to evade what was sure to be an awkward meeting. After a short time, this became rather tiring, and he became less vigilant, as was the case on that Christmas day.
"Professor Lupin!" The two seemed to pop up out of nowhere, a sloppily wrapped box in their hands.
Remus stumbled in surprise. "Oh, Fred, George…I wasn't expecting to see you here this morning." A true statement, as they'd stunned him so badly that he felt his heart would jump out of his chest.
"We got you something!" They chorused, presenting the brightly colored package to him with a flourish.
"Oh, er…" Remus glanced at them warily, but figured that there couldn't be that much harm done. Whatever it was was probably reversible anyway.
"We don't normally get professors something this wicked—"
"—but we figured that you're not a normal professor."
Inside was a deluxe pranking kit from Zonko's. He struggled to keep his face blank as the memory of two very young black-haired boys getting him something eerily similar surfaced. It was tough not to dwell on the memory, but he managed. "…Thank you, but are you sure you should be giving a member of the staff something like this? I know for a fact at least half of these are on that list outside Filch's office—"
"It's only against the rules if you get caught," They chorused together.
He grinned at them. "Well, regardless, thank you very much. I see that you and your friends have reconciled."
"Ange still claims we're on 'probation,'" one rolled his eyes.
"Everyone else is fine though, so it's only a matter of time til she comes around."
"And you're still pranking?" He asked cordially.
They nodded. "Not like we used to—"
"—but it's probably better this way."
Remus laughed and set off down the corridor, a twin on either side of him. "What was your first prank after you earned your forgiveness?" He asked, mocking seriousness.
The pair exchanged triumphant looks. "We probably shouldn't tell a member of the staff," Remus smiled at hearing his own words, "but we took care of a problem a friend had been having."
"Ah. That seems to be the best reason for pranking, don't you think?"
"What have you been doing, Professor?"
"Yeah, we hardly see you anymore."
Remus stayed silent for a few beats. "I've been in my quarters, mostly. I have a lot of work to make up from when I was ill." He missed the significant looks the twins gave each other. "I just need to catch up. I should finish before the next term, but we'll have to wait and see."
"Oh, is that all?"
"We asked Professor Burbage about you, and she didn't know."
Remus almost dropped his gift. "I—I've been very busy lately, I don't have much of a chance to chat with people."
"Really? Because we asked Professor Tonks and she knew exactly where you were."
"Er…" Remus wasn't stupid. He knew when he was caught. "Alright, what are you two trying to say?"
"You should talk to Burbage!" They told him.
He shifted. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea."
"Why not?" They demanded.
He exhaled slowly and stopped walking. "I may have lost my temper the last time we spoke. I also may have said some things that I don't mean. I…I was very rude to her, and that wasn't fair of me. I want to apologize, but I don't know if she'll accept it, and I don't even know if I deserve it."
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Because!" Remus exclaimed in frustration. "I was an awful person, the exact same kind of person I never wanted to be, the kind that lets their anger get the best of them and takes it out on people they lo—…are friends with," He finished lamely.
"Woah," George breathed.
"Do you fancy Burbage?" Fred asked.
"What?" The thought had never occurred to Remus. Why would he like Charity that way? "No, of course not. Why would you think that?"
"Mate, if you like a bird, you gotta swoop in before someone else gets her," Fred told him.
George frowned at him. "Who else in this castle is she gonna date? Snape?"
The two made twin looks of disgust.
"There will be no swooping in, because Charity and I are just friends," Remus said.
"For now," Fred mumbled.
Remus shot him a sharp look and he kept quiet.
"So you want Burbage to forgive you, but you don't know how," George pondered.
"Why not just get out some fireworks, or flowers, or something? Witches love that," Fred offered.
Remus was shaking his head before he even finished the sentence. "No, that won't work with her. She knows I would never do something like that. Those suggestions seem very romantic anyway."
"That's kind of the point," Fred muttered.
"What's the worst thing that could happen if you just go up and apologize?" George asked.
"She won't accept," Remus said.
"Then you'll just be where you are now," Fred surmised. "S'not like it could get any worse."
Remus leaned against a wall and folded his arms across his chest. "I never thought about it like that."
"Go for it, then. Worst case scenario is she doesn't forgive you—"
"—best case scenario is she does, and you have lots of tiny, muggle-obsessed kids."
"No, best case scenario is that we're friends again," Remus corrected absentmindedly. "Thank you very much gentlemen. Good luck on your next prank. I need to go take care of something."
He didn't notice their triumphant looks as he hurried back down the hall to his rooms. How to tell her…he could just show up in front of her quarters and speak with her there. Maybe he should arrange a meeting place, though. What was a place that she would like? He wanted her to be at ease—
A familiar blonde head was standing directly outside his portrait, knocking softly.
His voice got stuck in his throat. "Ch—arity?"
She whipped around, looking just as baffled as he did. "Remus? I thought you were in there…"
He moved closer to her, hands trembling at his sides. "We—we should go inside. I wanted to talk to you about something." They stepped in, and he led her to the couch, carefully setting the twins' gift down on an end table. She perched herself on the very edge of the seat, and he tried not to be hurt. He did deserve it, after all.
He cleared his throat roughly. "Would you like some tea?"
"Oh, no, thank you." Charity was completely focused on what he had to say.
"Um, about what happened last time—"
"I wanted to talk to you about that—"
"I'm sorry," They said together.
He gazed at her. "You're sorry? You haven't done anything wrong, I'm the one that should be sorry—"
"No, no," She interrupted. "I need to learn how to respect personal boundaries and all that. I should've realized—"
"You were just trying to help," Remus insisted. "I'm the one that blew things out of proportion and shouted at you."
"But I was pushing, when you obviously didn't want to talk about it. I should've left you alone—"
"It's okay. You did what you thought was best," He placated her.
"Oh, this is ridiculous." She sagged back against the couch. "How about we were both in the wrong, and we've learned our lesson, and it won't happen again?"
Remus grinned broadly at her. "I think that'll work."
Charity bit her lip, a bit timid. "Does this mean we're friends again?"
He observed her for a moment. "Only if you want to be."
She jumped up and wrapped her arms around his midsection. He stiffened.
She pulled back. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes. It's just that…we've never hugged before."
She hugged him again, laughing in his ear. "Am I going to be the one who always makes the first move?" She whispered affectionately.
She had no idea what kind of effect those words would have on him.