Chapter 101: Wednesday, June 5, 2002
"The successful warrior is the average man with laser-like focus."
-Bruce Lee
Hermione couldn't help but smile as she watched the scene before her while she leaned against the door frame leading into the modest kitchen. Remus hummed slightly off key while whisking chocolate by hand in a large metal bowl—taking care to not spill any of the rich, dark liquid over the sides. He looked happy, and completely in his element, as he checked the consistency by pulling up the whisk and watching the chocolate ribbon back into the bowl. Seemingly satisfied with that, he turned around and stopped mid hip shake, grinning at Hermione.
"Morning," he pulled the coffee press from the hob and poured a steaming cup for her, adding a bit of the chocolate he had just mixed together to the coffee and giving it a stir.
She took the mug and returned his smile, taking a sip. "Oh, that's delicious."
"It's the ganache. Not as much cream, obviously, as hot chocolate but the quality of that chocolate—" he pointed to the bowl, his eyes closing in bliss "—is impeccable."
Hermione took another long sip and stepped further into the kitchen, looking curiously around at the ingredients. There were a dozen or so small ramekins all filled with one thing or another. On a rack off to the side were three uniform, delicate looking, rectangular cakes. In a pot, sat a sieve with the remnants of raspberry seeds and below, a thick curd.
Chocolate shavings, pulverized pistachios and slivered, toasted almonds sat amongst the ingredients and there was a thick, plastic bag filled with a green fluff she couldn't identify. She went to reach for the bag, her brows raised in question.
"Pistachio buttercream," Remus provided, picking up the bag and motioning for her hand.
Hermione held out a finger and he squeezed a tiny dollop on the end of it. It was sweet, slightly salty and coated her tongue in sugary velvet.
"What is all this for?" Hermione questioned, licking her lips to gather the remains of the pistachio buttercream.
"Draco's birthday," Remus shrugged. "I haven't felt much like baking since...well, everything. But, my mum always said a birthday without a cake isn't a birthday at all. Molly's always so busy and I just...I dunno. Thought it was a good time to do it."
She couldn't help but smile. He seemed so blissfully relaxed for once, she couldn't point out the fact that Draco would more than likely not appreciate the effort he was putting into whatever beautiful cake he was creating. She was honestly just so happy to see him smiling and humming that she didn't care.
"Why pistachio?" Hermione asked, knowing all too well Remus always had a reason for the assembly of his cakes.
"Well, it's not just pistachio," he chuckled, pointing around to all the other ingredients. "You see? It's a Dacquoise."
"A what?"
"Dacquoise. French layered...well, it's not really a cake, I suppose...and, I took liberties with a traditional version. But, it seemed more fitting for him."
"Did it?" she mused.
"Yes," Remus said, with conviction as he removed the sieve from the pot and vanished the mess of berry seeds inside, setting the metal contraption in the sink.
She laughed, knowing that he would keep his secrets of why he chose this specific cake with him. She reached into a bowl that was spilling over with fresh raspberries and plucked one from the top, popping it into her mouth.
"So, my lovely baker man...you've been awake all night, I take it?" Hermione raised, nabbing another berry from the counter and slipping it past her lips.
"Not all night." Remus eyes her, playfully huffing as she stole another berry. "I woke up at four to get started. The layers take a while and I wanted to get it mostly finished before anyone else could come in and—" He swatted at Hermione's hand "—stop eating all my raspberries—come in and eat all the ingredients."
Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and popped two more berries into her mouth. She shouted in surprise when he grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her to his chest, crashing his lips down to hers. His tongue delved into her mouth, sweeping the berry juice from her lips. He pulled away just as quickly and left a soft peck to the swell of her bottom lip, a smirk lighting up his face.
"Fine, that one was too tart anyway."
Hermione threw her head back in a laugh and gave a wicked smile as she snatched a small handful from the bowl and ran from the kitchen shouting "Thanks for breakfast!" over her shoulder.
The room was crowded with members of The Order. Those who hadn't been staying at The Shack in the time Remus had been here had come to wish Draco a happy birthday and feast upon the smorgasbord of treats and appetizers Molly had put together. Remus had spent a painstaking few hours assembling the dacquoise, and the familiar bubbling of excitement for others to enjoy it was beginning in his gut.
"Is there a reason I was told not to bring a cake?" Molly asked, falling into the chair next to him.
Arthur chuckled, shaking his head fondly at his wife before getting up to talk to Percy and Penelope, who stood huddled together in the corner of the room.
"I baked," Remus offered, simply.
"I'm surprised," Molly said, reaching to the tray in the center table and adding a lump of sugar to her tea.
"Are you? I always baked before," Remus reasoned, his fingers tapping the edge of his small appetizer plate.
"Yes, but you haven't at all since you've been here."
"Felt like a good time for it, I guess."
"Ah well, I brought a cake anyway, just something small—just in case."
Remus chuckled, "Thanks, Molly."
"Anytime, dear. You know, you look awfully thin still. Have you eaten—"
"Remus!"
Hermione's voice broke through the good-natured coddling Molly was preparing and Remus bit back a sigh of relief. It's not that he was annoyed with the woman, but in all reality she wasn't that much older than he was. True, his appetite hadn't really returned, but he chalked that up to the side effects of losing all of his friends and time travelling two decades ahead.
"There you are, I'd wondered where you had run off to," she said, dipping slightly to press her lips to his.
"I'll go talk with Charlie, see if I can't convince him to get a proper haircut," Molly mumbled, patting Remus' hand a few times before getting up.
"Thank you," he murmured to Hermione.
"I thought she'd be trying to spoon feed you soon if I didn't intervene," Hermione whispered conspiratorially, a smirk on her face. "Ginny said she heard her muttering about how much weight you've lost since she had seen you last."
Remus laughed and wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders, pulling her closer to his side. It was strange, the urge to be constantly touching her, to feel her weight against his. They hadn't been together physically since the first time he did the ritual to stay, but he thought that was okay. It wasn't really a need for sexual intimacy that made him crave her touch—it was grounding. To feel the weight of her hand in his, feel her head on his shoulder, her fingers tracing patterns into the tops of his thighs...it reminded him that it wasn't a dream. It wasn't some strange concoction his brain had cooked up as a coping mechanism. He was here with Hermione and his magic felt less erratic when he was made aware of it.
From the wireless in the corner played some strange muggle pop music as the inhabitants of the Shack began to guzzle down wine and Firewhisky. Draco and Ginny were dancing and laughing along with several others. Remus couldn't help the tug of his lips as he watched Luna spin around in circles, batting at some invisible thing over her head like a cat with a feather as she twirled around the open space that had been dubbed the dance floor.
George, Ron, and Seamus were huddled in a corner, a conspiratorial air about them that Remus could identify easily as a group planning something ridiculous. Blaise and Harry sat at the opposite end of the enlarged table, talking animatedly with Tonks and Theo.
Remus looked around the room, watching all of the others interact. He idly began to wonder what would have happened if The Order had been this close knit the first time around? If they all worked on the same page and trusted one another's judgement, would things have ended so violently for them all?
"Granger!"
Remus looked up as Draco strutted toward them, a smirk pasted on his face.
"Yes?"
"How did you know?" Draco asked, his eyes bright with mischief and a massive smirk pasted on his lips.
Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly, pulling herself out of the slotted fit of Remus' side. "How did I know what?"
"Well, I'll say, hiding it in plain sight until now was actually very clever of you," Draco clapped his hands together a few times. "Ten points to Gryffindor."
"Malfoy, I have no idea what you're on about," Hermione sighed.
Draco's eyes fell to Remus and his smirk widened, his shoulders practically shaking with the inability to contain his mirth.
"How did you know I've always wanted a dog? I wasn't allowed to have one growing up of course," He gave Remus a puckish look, "the shedding, but I'm quite impressed that you—"
"Malfoy, I swear to Merlin, you make one more crack about Remus' condition and I'm going to hex you," Hermione hissed.
"Tell me, Lupin," Draco continued, ignoring Hermione's threats. "I've heard that you baked my cake, is it in the shape of a bone like those little dog biscuits you get at the shop or—"
Hermione shook her wand into her hand from it's holster on her forearm and with a lightning-quick flourish muttered, "Aures magna."
"You wouldn't!" Draco gasped, his hands clamping over his ears as he glared at her.
"I warned you."
With each passing second, Draco's ears grew larger and larger, rapidly outgrowing the size of his hands and looking comically cartoonish against his aristocratic features.
"It's my birthday!" Draco complained, "You can't hex me on my birthday!"
"I. Warned. You." Hermione responded, each word it's own sentence as she gave him a pointed look.
"You go back in time and come back with no sense of humor? What kind of bollocks is that?" Draco yelped in frustration, attempting to hold his rapidly growing ears to the sides of his head, "Fucking Christ, Granger, make it stop!"
Blaise, Harry, Tonks, and Theo had all stopped their conversation to stare and laugh as Draco's ears grew larger still, the lobes brushing the tops of his shoulders.
"Red! Get your friend under control!" Draco shouted, trying to hide the sides of his head with his arms.
"She's your friend too," Ginny chimed in, her voice shaking with laughter. "And I told you not to make that joke about Remus!"
Draco's head began to fall to the side as the weight of his ears strained his neck and Remus laughed at the poor attempt to throw a jinx back at Hermione, who deflected the bad aim with ease.
"Oi, Malfoy! Aren't you supposed to be an expert dueler?" Ron called out, wiping tears from his eyes as he laughed boisterously.
"I'm going to expertly duel your fucking—"
"Just apologize, mate!" Blaise chortled, slapping a hand against his thigh. "You know the rules. The jinxes stop if you just apologize!"
"The rules?" Remus asked, looking to Hermione.
"Oh yes," she said, her voice breaking with giggles. "When we first took in this lot of Slytherins, there was still some...animosity between us all. This is not the first time Draco has been at the end of a wand for his bad taste in humor. Ginny had bats flying from his nose for weeks before they actually got together."
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry! Lupin, I'm sorry I've called you a dog."
"And Fido," Remus added.
"And Fido!"
Remus smirked and Hermione shook her head, chuckling under her breath as she cancelled the hex and Draco's ears shot back into the side of his head, perfectly normal sized again.
As the party continued, slowly rising in volume directly related to the amount of Firewhisky going around, Remus found himself in the kitchen. It was the rare pockets of time in the Shack—moments where everyone lost themselves a bit and they were able to pull their heads away from the looming threat of death and destruction—that Remus found the most painful. It had been only months ago that he enjoyed silly jokes and gags with the Marauders, Lily and Hermione as a way to escape the grip of war. And while he had Hermione now, he found he desperately missed Sirius' voice doing the joking that got him hexed, or James' laughter shaking the house as Peter tripped over himself. He missed Lily tutting in the corner, hiding a grin behind a wine glass and secretly hexing all of them with silent jelly-legs jinxes.
He was beginning to slot into place here, he could tell. He felt useful—needed, even. His work at the Ministry wasn't much, but it was a living wage and he could honestly say he'd never had that in his life. Penelope, although rather uptight even by his standards, was a good supervisor and gave him hour lunch breaks and a good charm to use to protect the documents he brought home to copy. He was finally becoming more comfortable around Harry—which, to his relief, Harry was extremely understanding. His "skills as a swot" as Draco had said were beneficial in their planning and research.
No one cared he was a werewolf here.
Everyone knew. Clearly. Draco loved to poke and prod and make jokes to him about it. But, not once, did Remus believe any of those jokes came from a place of prejudice. Draco was an arsehole a lot of the time, but it was typically in jest. Harry, Ron and Hermione had explained that the news got out that he was a werewolf at the end of his short time as a teacher—so no one was shocked because they all knew and had known for years. And to make it even better, they didn't send him on missions to werewolf dens to live in squalor and be ripped apart by other werewolves for being an outsider.
Instead, they used his mind.
Not to mention the added bonus of seeing Hermione all the time again. He knew he had missed her like a severed limb, but being surrounded by her now it was almost like he could fill his lungs again.
However, it all came with a thick helping of guilt wrapped hastily through the good moments. He was happy here, and what did that say about him? That he was so glad to be in the throes of war and to feel accepted that he would willingly allow himself to forget the goings on outside of the Shack—what kind of person did that make him?
A dickhead.
Remus sighed, you're probably right.
Of course, I am. You've always been a dickhead. Good of you to catch up with the rest of the class.
I will drown you in that foul potion, you know that, don't you?
I'd like to see you try.
I'm sure it can be arranged.
Remus finished his careful slicing of the dacquoise, also taking care to cut the cake Molly had brought along and began putting slices on small plates and levitating out toward the main room. He chuckled under his breath as a cheer erupted at the sight of cake floating through the space. When the last plate had been carried out and a raucous version of Happy Birthday was sung largely in part by Seamus, Ginny, and George, Remus looked around and realized he hadn't seen Pansy all evening.
"Everything okay?" Hermione asked, bumping her shoulder into his as she cleaned a bit of ganache from the tines of her fork.
Remus' eyes followed the motion of her tongue darting out and her lips wrapping around the steel before he cleared his throat a bit and nodded, "Yeah, I'm okay. Have you seen Pansy?"
Hermione frowned, looking around the room, "No, I don't think I have. Which is strange...she usually loves any excuse to drink wine and jinx Ron."
"Yeah, I thought it was strange too," Remus agreed. "I'm going to go check on her."
"Want me to come with?"
"No, stay here. Enjoy the rest of the party, love. I'll be right back," with that, he leaned over and pressed a swift kiss to her temple and unfolded himself from the chair, swiping a piece of the dacquoise and heading up the stairs.
Pansy was an enigma.
Remus had quickly discovered she was rather prickly on the outside, but her sharp words and even faster reflexes were covering up a good person. She had spent hours teaching him how to transfigure his scars away for his days at the Ministry and had even gone as far to give him ways to stop his hair from going any greyer than it already had. He liked her dry humor and how she pointed out things that seemed ridiculous.
Must be a Slytherin trait, he thought.
The door to the top floor where the bunks were held was pulled firmly closed. Remus hesitated a moment before knocking softly, three times, and pushing the door open.
"Typically," came a raspy voice from the right side of the room. "When someone doesn't answer the door, it's because they don't want to be bothered."
"I know," Remus said, closing the door behind him. "But, I brought you some cake."
"Cake?"
She looked miserable and Remus felt guilt shoot through him and grip his insides like a vice. Her usually flawless skin was patchy and red, her eyes swollen and blood shot and the tip of her nose was raw. He had yet to see her ever having a hair out of place, but now she looked completely disheveled. Her fringe stuck up in a few spots and she had dark streaks that lined her cheeks.
"Well, it's a dacquoise, actually. But, I thought maybe—"
"Maybe what, exactly? Maybe we could have this little party, celebrate, while there are still people being killed everywhere we go? Just sit back and eat your impressive little cakes while Justin is still missing? Instead of looking for him, we could throw back a few drinks and play bloody Gobstones and ignore the fact that we are still at fucking war and our people are still gone?"
Remus shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to say.
"And now," Pansy let out a hysterical puff of laughter. "You come up here with your bloody fucking dacquoise and bollocks the size of Draco's ego to what? Tell me to cheer up? Granger fucks with time and spends six months crying on about it, and I can't even get six damn minutes! You," she pointed an accusatory finger at Remus, "hadn't been captured. You hadn't been possibly killed. You were simply left where you belong! But Justin is...go away, Lupin. Go back downstairs and enjoy your little gathering. Go eat your bloody cakes and leave me the hell alone."
"I didn't come here to cheer you up."
Pansy snorted in response, rolling her eyes and clenching her jaw tight.
"No one has forgotten what's happening out there," Remus said, evenly. "We all know that Justin is still missing. We've been trying to figure out where to look for him."
"Well, try harder."
"Look," Remus crossed the room and sat on the bunk opposite of Pansy, setting the small plate and fork to the side. "I know better than anyone what this feels like. But, I can also tell you that running in without a plan is a bad idea."
"But throwing a fucking birthday party for a ponce isn't?"
"They need this. You need this."
Pansy scoffed, looking away from him. "I don't need any of this. I need Justin."
Remus sighed, knowing all too well the feeling. Knowing that no matter what he said, nothing could possibly make her feel better because they were all empty words. Until Justin was back here, safe in her arms, everything he said was empty promises. He stood up and moved the plate to the top of the stack of books next to her bed.
"I won't promise you anything," Remus said softly, over his shoulder as he gripped the doorknob. "But, if you want to talk, or yell, or practice dueling on someone, you can come find me."
Remus paused, his eyes lingering on the research he was thumbing through, at the sound of someone stepping on the creaky floorboard leading into the dining room.
"I'll be up soon, love. Just going over a few things," he said, without looking up.
"I like you, Lupin. But, I don't think we're on 'love' terms quite yet."
He pulled his eyes up from the journal and saw Pansy in the doorway, an empty plate in hand. He offered her a small smile, only half his mouth upturning slightly.
"Your dacquoise was quite good. I've been to France, so it's not the best I've ever had, but the raspberry was nice," her voice was quieter than he had ever heard it, a scratchy whisper above the draft in the house.
"Thank you," he offered her a small smile.
She nodded and took a tentative step towards the table, looking as if she were internally arguing with herself. Finally, she crossed the room and pulled out a chair, falling heavily into it.
After a few long moments, she spoke. "Was it always like this?"
Remus sighed, wondering if his insides would ever calm upon hearing this question asked of him. The more sarcastic, frustrated side of his mind said perhaps he should just hold a seminar called "The War Has Always Been Fucking Awful—A Timeline of Events" but the effort to put together a board depicting the death of all of his friends seemed like a chore. And, maybe, a touch too dramatic.
"I watched every single person I love and cared about be captured, tortured, or killed at some point," he said. "So, yes. It's always been heinous."
"Did you ever get them back, the ones that were captured?"
"Sometimes, yes."
"In one piece?"
"Not always," he whispered.
Pansy nodded, biting into the inside of her cheek. "I don't need help dueling," she began, "I'm rather proficient there—you can probably thank Potter for that. And I don't want to scream at you, from what I've heard, you've done enough shouting out in the woods."
Remus chuckled, "I suppose that's gotten around, has it?"
"You make a habit of yelling in the woods with Luna, and yes. It gets around." She stared at him with a pointed look before puffing out a small breath, shrugging limply. "I think she's just happy to have someone to listen to her nonsense."
"It's not nonsense if it works," he proposed.
Pansy's lip twitched and her eyes brightened slightly, "No, I suppose it's not."
They sat in silence for several minutes. Pansy stared at her fingers as her long, manicured nails tapped gently against the table. Remus watched her, wondering what was running through her mind.
"Justin isn't the most clever in the house," she mumbled. "He's not as brilliant as Hermione or Draco. He's not as good at strategizing as Ron or Harry…" Pansy shook her head, her eyes raising to meet Remus'. " That's not to say he's dumb. He's really good at Transfiguration and Herbology—he and Neville grow half the plants we use in potions here. And, he's perfectly sweet—sweeter than I deserve most of the time."
Ah. She wanted to talk. She was taking him up on his offer and Remus found that he was rather surprised by it. He liked Pansy—but, if anyone seemed to be a closed book in the house, it was her.
"You know, when Voldemort came to Hogwarts in 1998, I tried to turn Harry over," her voice wavered slightly, but she pushed on. "Caught a lot of shit for that, understandably. But, Justin...he never once blamed me for it." Her brows tugged together and she chewed on the inside of her cheek, her mouth twisting down at a harsh angle. "I was terrified. I didn't want my friends to die for some...self-righteous prat. My entire family was aligned with Death Eaters and I…" She took in a slow breath and blinked rapidly a few times, sniffing hard, "Justin got it."
"We do a lot of fucked up things in the name of fear," Remus said.
Pansy hummed, "I need someone to understand me right now, Remus, and I think that you will."
He looked at her curiously, waiting for her to continue. When she did, her voice was clear—full of conviction and the wobble that had previously been there was gone.
"I will kill every person who stands in the way of getting him back to me."
Remus nodded, watching the fire in her eyes blaze through him. She meant it—and Remus understood the sentiment perfectly.
.
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a/n: It just so happened that the missed update last week meant that this chapter actually fell on Draco's birthday! How awesome is that?! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one!
xo
