Remus watched his grandparents dance.
He was at his father's parents' fortieth wedding anniversary at age eleven, just before he was to leave for Hogwarts. He hadn't been able to sleep very well the last few nights and was glad for the opportunity to stay up late with his family and their small group of friends. The Hogwarts Express left tomorrow, and he doubted he would sleep at all tonight.
Remus sat at a table with his parents and some of his grandparents' friends. The adults spoke in low tones with glistening eyes, although he didn't know if the shimmer was from emotion or the from the glasses of wine they had all been drinking throughout the evening. Remus ate his cake slowly, methodically, saving the chocolate frosting for last, to savor it and to make certain he could remain at the party; surely as long as he was still eating they would let him stay up. The candles were getting low; but people continued to dance and hold lively conversations throughout the rented room, and he didn't want to miss anything.
As his eyes followed his grandparents around the dance floor, he felt an outpouring of love for them. The couple had mastered the art of the Argentine tango while they were in Buenos Aires, during their short, passionate courtship and the first months of their marriage. They had learned it when they were in their twenties, when their knees didn't protest going up and down stairs, when books didn't have to be held at arm's length. But even today, the subtle dance suited them. Chest to chest, cheek to cheek, they glided across the room, as if there were no one else there. The dark mahogany wood floor was as smooth as the surface of a still, black lake, across which the couple skimmed as gracefully as skaters. And when each tune reached its sudden end, his grandparents paused, motionless and smiling at each other, and waited for the next piece to begin.
The music from the Muggle phonograph was tinny sounding. The voices of the violin, clarinet, and piano surged and retreated, a clamor of notes steadily traveling to the listener's ears through fits and starts, as if the instruments were confident that they must play together but were uncertain about how much they should trust one another. If one instrument hesitated, then the others shrank; if another swelled, the others boldly followed suit, strengthening the sound. It seemed infinitely sad, Remus thought, and yet one had to listen to it. There was always a sudden halt at the end of each piece of music, a sharp arrest, as if the musicians had unexpectedly disappeared from the world of the living, as if the dancers had been caught in the act of something forbidden, as if someone, somewhere had been slapped in the middle of having too much fun.
Suddenly the room shifted and Remus was no longer eleven, no longer surrounded by his family. He now found himself standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching Lily and James, two lone dancers on the empty floor; but instead of dancing a waltz, as they must have done the night of the Yule dance, tonight they, too, danced the Argentine tango.
They barely touched, yet they danced together as if they had been born to do so. James's hand hovered over the small of Lily's back, gently leading her this way and that, and she followed without hesitation. Lily's left hand draped across the back of James's neck, almost protectively, it seemed; and her delicate right hand rested in his left as though it finally realized it had traveled too far and welcomed the resting place. Cheek to cheek, they danced, James's alert eyes traveling the room as if he were making note of other, invisible dancers and carefully guiding them through the throng. Lily's gaze was lowered, in complete trust, to James's shoulder; she did not once raise her eyes. As they traveled, chest-to-chest, across the room, it was as though they were not two bodies navigating a dance floor, but two hearts moving bodies through space and time.
The music abruptly ceased. James and Lily, almost as if they had anticipated the end and were not in the least surprised, halted in their steps, frozen. Rooted to the spot and feeling suddenly uneasy, Remus saw their eyes moving, as if they were listening as hard as they could for the next tune. But it never came.
Remus lurched forward, gasping, clutching at the bedclothes. His eyes darted here and there for several disoriented seconds, and it wasn't until he opened his bed curtains that he remembered where he was. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of his neck and he wiped at it impatiently. It took several moments for the panic to leave him, and he wasn't even certain why he felt so afraid. But before he knew it he was standing and padding silently to James's bed to make sure his friend was all right. Through a crack in the curtains, he saw James's ribcage rising and falling regularly under his T-shirt, his arm crumpling a pillow beneath his torso.
Quietly, Remus opened his trunk and took out the Marauder's Map, immediately searching for Lily. She was in her bed in the girls' tower, probably still sleeping soundly. Nothing was amiss. He forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed and breathe slowly until his heart stopped thundering a drumbeat inside his chest. Feeling agitated, he quickly dressed and descended the staircase, map in hand.
Remus slipped silently through the portrait hole. As an hour remained before breakfast, he decided to explore the fifth floor this morning to take his mind off that strangely awful dream. Besides, it would help to pass the time until eleven o'clock when he would see Lily in Study Hall. The Quidditch match yesterday had been a bit painful. Lily's friend Olivia had pulled her away from Remus, Sirius, and Peter, as apparently Sirius was still considered a Right Sodding Bastard. Remus couldn't blame her for her ire; Sirius had a famous lack of tact when breaking up with girls. He had dumped the strikingly beautiful Vera Hahn quite publicly last year, and had done so supposedly because her laugh sounded like a donkey's braying. But somehow her laugh hadn't stopped Sirius from trying to silence her many, many times with his lips before then.
While he still enjoyed taking walks alone in the woods, Remus also found solace in exploring the castle on his own, discovering secret passages and hidden rooms. The friends had journeyed together many times, of course, taking particular delight in the discovery of the secret entrance to the Hogwarts kitchens and the passageway that led to Honeyduke's Sweetshop in Hogsmeade. But Sirius had quickly tired of Remus's methodical way of surveying the castle and grounds, and the boys often left Remus to his own detailed exploration. He always reported back when he found something he thought would be of interest to James, Sirius, or Peter.
He brought his thoughts back to the map, looking for new doorways and passages. As he neared the fourth door beyond the statue of Boris the Bewildered, he noticed something new. He had used the prefects' bathroom several times, but he hadn't realized there was a passage leading out of it.
"Tiny bubbles," he said to the door. It opened and he entered.
The huge bathtub looked inviting, as usual, with its multitude of taps full of scented bubble baths; but Remus had stopped using the tub when he realized that he wasn't always alone there. Even now his eyes darted around for signs of Moaning Myrtle, the lonely ghost who liked to spy on boys while they were taking their baths. Confident that she was nowhere about, he crossed to the portrait of the mermaid, who winked at him.
The secret passage appeared to be right behind the portrait, but he wasn't sure whether it required a password. At any rate, it felt odd to attempt to open the portrait without a bit of polite conversation.
"Er, hello," Remus said. "How are you this morning?"
The mermaid merely smiled mysteriously.
"I believe that there is a passage just behind you. Would you mind terribly if I passed through?"
The mermaid cocked her head and pierced Remus with a flirtatious glance. Tucking her tail up under her, as if it were skirts, she gestured with an arm toward the left side of the frame.
Remus felt along the side of the frame until he found a handle. He opened the portrait hole and, thanking the mermaid, stepped into the passage.
The corridor felt immediately cold and damp. Remus lit the tip of his wand and walked quickly down the passage. He descended what seemed like several flights of steps and the corridor eventually straightened out again. Reaching out, he felt the stone walls becoming more and more damp as he traveled, and the pungent aroma of algae was unmistakable. It was not altogether an unpleasant scent.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, the air began to smell fresher, and Remus sensed a breeze coming from somewhere above. He stumbled upon some stone steps and began to climb. At last he found himself in the open air flanked closely on all sides by high, white stones. Extinguishing the light from his wand, he looked around for a way to reach the tops of the stones. He discovered some footholds and managed to hoist himself up. When he reached the top, he sat down and realized he was overlooking to the lake. He could have jumped off the stones right into the dark water if he wished. Leaning over to his left, he saw more footholds that would allow a person to climb back up from the lake along the stones, back into to passageway.
"Mischief managed," he uttered, and the map went blank.
Remus pocketed his wand and the map and sat with his arms around his knees, watching the way the breeze wrinkled the lake's smooth surface. Despite the wind, of course, the lake itself, underneath the ripples, would remain unchanged; it would endure for ages, as fathomless as ever. Remus found the thought strangely comforting; so he gazed at the little waves for several minutes, concentrating on letting all worry and care slowly seep from his mind, like water into the stones below. He couldn't wait to bring Lily here; they would sit quietly in each other's company, far away from everyone. He decided he would tell her about the passageway today. He would give her the password to the prefects' bathroom, and she could come here and swim whenever she wanted, day or night, without the worry of being caught. Remus smiled at the thought.
After about a half hour, the breeze began to give him a chill. It was probably time for breakfast anyway, so he climbed back down into the center of the stones and descended the damp steps once more. As he made his way further into the corridor, the darkness enveloped him. He pulled his wand and the map from his pocket.
"Lumos," Remus said, and the tip of his wand burned brightly.
Several feet in front of him, a pair of eyes near the ground reflected the bluish light of his wand. He froze. The eyes approached him and he saw with a start that they belonged to Mrs. Jellicorse, Filch's tattered old cat.
"Well, well, well," Filch's voice chided. "A student. A prefect, no less. What could you possibly be doing in a secret passageway? Trying to sneak off the grounds without permission, I'd wager!"
The caretaker stepped into the light of Remus's wand, and the look of satisfaction on his face was positively grotesque. His mouth quivered and his rheumy eyes raked over Remus's immobile form. Remus's jaw dropped and he inhaled in preparation to respond, but he found that no words would come. Instead, his mind was invaded by a quick flash of a slightly younger Filch paddling a crying student. Remus took a deep breath, let it out, and willed himself to stay calm, to remain detached; soon Filch's memory faded from Remus's mind and his own fright jostled forward once more.
"That poor mermaid was trying to see where you had gone," Filch sneered. "Wretched thing has never been here herself."
"I was only exploring," Remus began. "I was just coming back."
"Students have no right to stick their noses in places where they're not wanted!"
"Sir, I wasn't up to anything –"
Filch's glaring eyes suddenly narrowed as they fell on the map in Remus's hand. "Hello, what's this?" he demanded.
Remus had been so startled by meeting Filch that he had completely forgotten he was holding the map. He glanced quickly at it and felt a wave of relief that he had not activated it yet. "Bit of parchment, that's all."
"Parchment, is it? Doing homework in a secret passage, were you?" Filch mocked in a singsong voice. "Come with me, lad." He took Remus's elbow and forcibly steered him back toward the school.
"Wh-where are we going?" Remus stammered, keeping his eyes on the slippery stones before him.
"Professor Dumbledore will be very interested to hear what you've been up to," smirked Filch. "I'll take that." Quick as a flash, he snatched the map from Remus's shaking hand.
Remus's heart battered inside his chest. While Dumbledore would recognize the map for what it was, he might not feel so kindly once he learned that Remus was indeed using it to search hidden parts of the castle. His friends hadn't goaded him into anything this time; he had no one to blame but himself. He tried not to allow himself to imagine the worst possible scenario – expulsion – but somehow that was the only thought in his head during the entire walk back into the school. Filch muttered and pontificated the entire way, along the damp corridor, up the flights of steps, past the curious mermaid, and out of the prefect's bathroom; but Remus didn't register a word the man said over the rush of blood in his ears. Remus extinguished his wand as the two clomped toward the headmaster's office. He tried to think only of the sounds of their walking, leather on stone, the soft crunch and shift of sand between heel and slab. He watched Mrs. Jellicorse's bent tail waving like a victory flag as she led the way.
As they rounded a corner, they spotted Dumbledore heading straight toward them, a look of concern on his face. Filch began speaking at once.
"Sir, I'm glad to see you. I was on my way to your office with young Mister Lupin." Filch lowered his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "This boy – this prefect – was snooping around the secret passage to the lake – "
Dumbledore spoke gently when he reached them, taking Remus's other elbow and leading him smoothly away from the caretaker. "Thank you, Mister Filch. I will take him from here."
Behind him, Remus heard the papery flutter of Filch waving the map, Remus's map. "But I found him with this parchment! It looks blank, but I think it may be something – "
"Thank you, Mister Filch," Dumbledore replied in the same tone. He kept walking, steering Remus firmly down the corridor, away from Filch and the Marauder's Map. Remus had the distinct feeling that he would never see his map again. He watched the doors sailing past as they made their way to the headmaster's office. He couldn't help thinking that this may be the last time he passed these doors, leaned out of these windows, sat in these familiar classrooms. His body somehow felt not like his body; everything seemed surreal, almost too far away to touch.
When at last they were alone on the revolving spiral staircase inside Dumbledore's rooms, Remus spoke in a rush. "Sir, I'm sorry. I never meant to cause any trouble with that map. It's true, I've been exploring – "
"Remus, I'm not concerned about the map."
Remus looked at him questioningly, his heart still hammering as if it wanted to escape the confines of his chest.
Dumbledore looked gravely at Remus as they reached the top of the staircase. "Your parents are here."
Remus tilted his head and gazed at Dumbledore for another moment, then he stepped from the stairwell into the office. His body felt thick and numb, like it had been wrapped in fabric bands like a mummy, untouchable and immovable. He saw his parents sitting in the two chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk, and they turned toward him with faces full of anguish. His father had tears on his cheeks. His mother said Remus's name, but it sounded like it came from under water, muffled and far away. His parents were out of place here; and he stared at them, trying to make sense of their presence. Cold dread oozed into every part of his body and he began to shiver.
He felt Dumbledore step away from him as his mother wrapped her arms tightly around him. Remus kept his eyes on his father, standing helplessly beside the chair. He looked oddly small in his dark robes, his crumpled hat. One of his father's hands twitched and, almost as if the slight movement made him notice that hand again, he used it to wipe his wet face.
"Remus," his mother choked into his ear. "The Dark Mark … Death Eaters went to your grandmother and grandfather's house last night."
Looking into his father's eyes, Remus saw a memory. His father was watching with pride as Remus and Jonathan Lupin hunched over the map on the dining room table over the holiday. Grandmother Margaret hovered in the background offering sandwiches. Christmas carols, sounding tinny and sentimental, played on the old Muggle phonograph in the living room. Remus shut his eyes and the image vanished at once.
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A/N: Thanks for your patience as I finished this one!. There's more Remus and Lily coming up soon, and some Peter as well. All who review this chapter can play psychoanalyst and help poor Remus interpret his dream.