NOTE

Content warning: Moments of grief, and sexual content.

22. Tea With Trelawney

I feared at first that Remus's closeness to me that morning was only a result of his pain, his exhaustion, my gentle coaxing. But it seemed that it had been real. I was surprised and relieved that Remus worked to be close to me in the following days. He seemed to want to reassure me of something, and also to be certain that I wasn't in very much pain. Still I knew that, deep down, he was not intent on forgiving himself any time soon. I was sure of this because, despite his openness to being near me, he absolutely refused to touch me.

We slept in the same bed at night, but with space between us. Once or twice I tried to touch him gently, but he would roll away, and I would pretend to have been sleeping; not to have meant it.

Remus's sulky behaviour was seen as nothing out of the ordinary for the week after the full moon by everyone else in the castle. Except for Poppy and Severus, of course. They both checked on me regularly. I confessed my lingering internal pain to Poppy, and later that day had a visit from Severus, who gave me three vials to be taken over the next three days.

My pain wore off easily with the help, and I felt fully recovered by the time the week was coming to its end, and Remus's body had returned to its most stable state. Only his limp remained–barely noticeable, but very noticeable to me. I made him the poultice I had improvised back in No. 12 Grimmauld Place, and it was a great reassurance to my heart when he agreed to use it.

I began to be drawn strangely towards Severus. His refusal to accept my gratitude that night in the hospital wing had made an impression on me. A small determined part of me was desperate to know that he understood that I knew how much he had done for me. I did not doubt the truth of Poppy's words; that he had kept me from death. But he behaved as though nothing at all had happened between us on that night when I'd limped to his office, desperate and hurting.

I remembered the moment of clarity I'd experienced, watching him work. For all the firm fastenings of the mask he wore, I had begun to glimpse the man behind it. I could not imagine his strength. To have survived so long in darkness, to be willingly pushed away and hated for so many years, in order to ensure that the good side won. I saw the damage it had done to him, and longed to offer him warmth, assurance that he did not have to live in such a place anymore. But I did not know how. All of my usual ways–trying to start conversations, offering small favours–were rejected. I constantly had the sense of coming up against one of his many cold walls.

After a few days of it, I stopped exerting so much effort. I sensed that rather than proving my gratitude, I was simply annoying him. My pain was gone, so there was no longer need for our paths to cross. I rarely saw him except in the great hall.

Besides, I had Remus to worry about. Though he was accommodating, and not necessarily avoidant, a painful emotional distance gaped between us. On the worst days, I believed that our closest time was gone forever. The thought depressed me, and I often went off alone, keeping my tears private.

Most of the work around the castle was complete, and I grew restless. After constantly being on edge throughout the war, my life felt empty of action, and I felt my old and poorly-buried grief for Fred rising up again. With little to occupy me, and the omnipresent sense of anxiety whenever I was around Remus, I escaped for long walks alone around the grounds.

The woods around the Black Lake was my favourite place to wander. As I grew more confident, or perhaps more desperate to escape my sense of uselessness, I began wandering away from the trail. The sound of the dead frozen underbrush crunching under my boots was lovely to my ears, and the sense of being isolated and far away from other people was a welcome one. One of these wanderings led me to the small island which held Dumbledore's white tomb.

I was able to apparate from the cold bank of the lake onto the small island, as it was far enough from the castle. For all the care everyone had taken about the castle they hadn't tended Dumbledore's tomb very well. It was overgrown and dark with ice from the recent freezing rains. My wand was more reliable nowadays, and I used it to melt the ice and untangle the weeds, which seemed surprisingly willing to slither from the tomb. I pressed my hand into the cold stone, sending a small thank you to the great wizard who lay cold and still beneath it. Memories of my old headmaster sent me down a long lane of memories, and soon enough they were dominated by Fred.

There were the more pleasant memories of being shown around the secret passageways of the castle by him when I'd been in my first year and he'd been in his second. Of cheering him on at Quidditch games. But then there were the later ones, once the war had begun to darken our world. I remembered the night the Burrow had burned down, and we had taken refuge in one another's arms, traumatised by the destruction of the only true home either of us had ever known. Fast upon the heels of that memory came the one of the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding, when the Death Eaters had come. I had found Fred in the chaos, my heart pounding with panic, and then relief at the sight of his face, and Arthur had ordered us to apparate quickly to Shell Cottage. I'd been shaking too hard to control myself, and had to side-along with Fred. People had seen him mostly as a mischief maker, and that he was. But rarely did others see his deep and caring side. He'd held me that night so very tenderly… and I wished we had never had to let go.

I thought of how I had confessed my love to Remus the morning after the full moon. It was true that I loved him, but the love was so painful and confusing. I was frightened of it. The mere thought of Remus made my heart ache, especially now that there was so much distance between us. Thinking of Fred only deepened the ache. Would love ever be painless again?

I realised suddenly that I was crying. "I miss you," I choked out, speaking to Fred, wherever he was, somewhere in the sky. "I miss you."

I recovered myself enough to apparate off of the island, not wanting to become any more upset and strand myself there, unable to control my magic. I walked back through the woods towards the trail, allowing myself to tremble, to sob. My breath clouded in front of me as I walked, and the sky was getting dark though it was early afternoon. The sun's tolerance for the world was still short, and would remain so for the next two months. I also sensed that it would rain again soon.

I had found the path again in the gathering darkness when I suddenly thought I heard something in the woods. It was a small rustling sound, and could have been a small animal. But it was the way it suddenly went silent when my ears pricked up that made my skin crawl. Suddenly I had regretted coming out so late on my own. I felt distinctly watched, and more than a bit frightened. I walked quickly up the path, back towards the castle, not daring to look behind me. It could have just been paranoia, but I didn't think it was. As I walked I imagined that it was one of the beings. Perhaps one had overheard me talking to Fred. The thought of a strange creature wearing his skin made my own skin crawl, and I kept myself from running as I finally came into sight of the castle.

It started raining as I was crossing the bridge, and I finally felt safe. I had dared a look behind me, and there was nothing. If anything had been following me, and I wasn't only being paranoid, then it was gone now.

I was soaked and shivering when I walked through the large doors into the entryway. The familiar sight of the stone knights eased my heart, and I pressed my palm to my chest as it slowed down.

Remus was standing in the entrance to the great hall with McGonagall, both of them cast in warm light streaming in from the hall. Remus looked over at me as the door finally closed, and an expression of relief entered his previously tense face.

It was the first genuinely open look I had received from him in a while, and there was a spike of hope in my heart. "Wilma," he said, forgetting McGonagall and crossing towards me. I was flooded with complete joy when he took my hands in his without hesitation, wincing at how cold they were. "I was scared sick. You shouldn't have gone out so late," he said. I stood there speechless as he performed a drying charm on my clothes. I was glad to hear anything real from him–even if it was a slight reprimand.

"Thank you," was all I could manage.

His hands squeezed mine, and I actually felt my blood warm with pleasure. "We're just going in for dinner," he said, half-turning to Minerva.

I followed him. I didn't know what had happened inside his head and heart in my absence that day, but whatever it was, I was grateful for it. Rather than sitting across the table from me we sat elbow to elbow, and he frequently rekindled the warming spell he'd cast on my hands and hair. It kept my ears warm, and I tried not to look at him too much. I wasn't even sure if he had realised yet the change that had taken place in himself.

"This came," he said, once the meal was finished and the others had begun filtering away to bed. He drew an opened letter from the pocket of his loose grey cardigan and handed it to me. I recognised it immediately as being from the Ministry, and knew that this must have been behind his change of heart. I unfolded it and felt him watching my face as I read it.

Mr. and Mrs. Lupin

In light of the report of Poppy Pomfrey on the third of January, the Ministry will no longer require you to adhere to the new clause of the Marriage Law. Intercourse must still be reported once a month, and should fall at least once within the week which leads up to and includes Mrs. Lupin's fertile window.

I didn't need to read any more to understand. So this was why he was so relieved. Now it was certain that we would never have to go through what we'd gone through that night again. We were free.

"Oh, good," I said, once I had finished the letter. I'd expected an outright refusal, or a more stressful solution. But this was entirely manageable. Almost too good to be true.

When I looked into Remus's eyes I saw some of the openness I'd known a month before. It would take some time, I knew, for the trust to return, but this was certainly a start.

That night in bed he allowed me to hold his hand, and when I woke up the next morning he was cradling me carefully against his chest.

McGonagall announced the following morning that someone from the Ministry would be arriving to inspect the school the next day. Their inspection would determine whether or not we would be allowed to accept students next year.

We spent the day putting the finishing touches on things, including getting the fountain in the courtyard to run again, as well as the ceiling in the great hall to mirror the sky. By the time the sun had sunk in the dreary sky, the castle looked much the same as it had when I had first arrived as a little eleven year old, eight years ago.

Two inspectors arrived the next day. I felt nervous when I saw them–they looked very narrow-eyed and severe in their ministry robes.

"Do you think it'll be okay?" I asked Remus, as we watched McGonagall greet them from the clock tower.

"I think so," he said.

It took three hours for them to get through everything, but at the end of it there was relief. It was official; Hogwarts would be open again in the autumn.

After a celebratory lunch, McGonagall found me in the corridor and asked me to follow her to her office. I couldn't help the sense of nervousness that had been ingrained in me throughout years as her student. Although I knew I wasn't about to be punished–I had done nothing wrong–it still made me feel anxious, following her through the stone corridors.

Her office was warm and inviting, the walls stacked with books, and a small fire humming in the fireplace. A portrait of Godric Gryffindor slept soundly by the window which overlooked the chasm.

"Have a seat," she said, and I took the chair across from hers.

She smiled, looking at me evenly. It was much different, being in her presence as a fellow adult, after suffering side by side through a war, than it had been when I'd first entered her Transfiguration classroom. Then I had felt like a fool, constantly treading on eggshells. Now I got the sense that she addressed me as an equal.

"I'll speak plainly," McGonagall told me. "I would like to offer you a teaching post next year."

We had all known that McGonagall would remain on as headmistress, but I had given no thought to who would be teaching. I'd assumed, of course, that Severus, Flitwick, and Trelawney would stay–at the very least. I'd certainly never imagined myself in the picture.

"I…" I stammered. "I'm sure I'm too young."

Minerva shook her head. "Of course you aren't. Mr. Longbottom will be teaching Herbology starting next year; Pomona will be leaving us. And don't be too humble, Wilma. We both know you were one of the brightest and most capable witches in your year. I'm sure I don't need to remind you of your outstanding marks."

I blushed. The only class I hadn't had top marks in was Defence Against the Dark Arts in my final year–which had been impossible, seeing as it had been taught that year by Severus. After Remus, every other witch or wizard to teach that class had been quite brutal; first Barty Crouch disguised as Moody, then Umbridge, then Severus. I'd been sure then that he'd had something against me. I'd known he'd never liked Fred–who was notorious for making messes in Potions–and had assumed that his dislike for Fred had simply extended to me. Whatever the reason, his class had been extremely hard to excel in.

"You should have your pick of the open positions," McGonagall was saying. She handed me a piece of parchment with a list of classes on it, which included Runes, Astronomy, and others. "Of course, Hagrid is always looking for an assistant in Care of Magical Creatures, and I've no doubt Severus would also appreciate some help."

I furrowed my eyebrows. I wholly doubted that Severus was in search of an assistant. He exercised complete control over his classroom and his students, and would never willingly have another person underfoot.

"Thank you, Professor," I said, "But I'm really not sure I'm suited to it." Simply imagining the stress that would come with teaching was enough to make my heart race with anxiety.

Minerva gave me a knowing look, but didn't argue. "Alright," she said. "I do urge you, however, to consider it. Keep that list, and let me know when you've made your final decision."

I couldn't sleep that night. The conversation with McGonagall had prompted me to think about my future deeply for the first time in many months, and I didn't want to disturb Remus with my tossing and turning. I put on my cloak and crept out of the bedroom, taking a walk down the stairs of the castle in the cool darkness of the night.

After the war I hadn't thought about anything for months. Then the immediate concerns of the marriage law had taken over. I'd never thought much about work during the war–there was no need to. I'd helped Fred and George with their shop when I was still in school, but the thought of going down to London, especially when it was only George and Angelina there, was no longer appealing.

I entered the courtyard. It had stopped raining and the sky was full of woollen clouds, soft and pale with the light of the waning moon. I sat on the edge of the fountain, feeling the gentle cold breeze filtering through the falling water.

I hadn't yet mentioned my conversation with Minerva to Remus, but assumed he would be teaching in the autumn. Perhaps he would teach Defence Against the Dark Arts as he had done, though I knew Severus had always envied that position, and would likely take it for his own if he could–though I wasn't sure. Perhaps the darkness of the war would put him off the content of the class now.

I had to admit that the thought of staying at Hogwarts made me happy, excited even. The thought of having to leave had always caused me great anxiety as a student. But I wasn't sure I had what it took to be a teacher. Not only the mastery of any one subject, but also the ability to handle students. I had so recently been one myself.

Through the purling, rippling water, came the soft sound of voices in conversation. My heart jumped and without thinking I hid behind the fountain foolishly. I watched through the falling water and was surprised to see Severus walking through the shadows of the stone arcade, an unfamiliar woman at his side.

I understood after a moment that this must have been Frederica, his wife. She was a surprisingly warm looking witch. I had imagined someone much more stern-looking, to match him. Just an inch or so shorter than him, she seemed to be just shy of forty, and I guessed she had been at Hogwarts at the same time as Severus. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but their interaction was seamless.

I wondered how she was doing it–remaining so lovely and carefree despite Severus's coldness. I suddenly remembered the potion he had given to me for my wedding night with Remus. How he had told me that he had brewed it for himself before thinking of offering some to me. I was at a loss, imagining what could be so bad about the woman I saw to warrant him using it. Or perhaps it was something hidden in his own past, too painful to face, too painful to be reminded of. I remembered how he had instantly begun to tremble and cry when we had seen the being in the woods by Hogsmeade. Curiosity stirred in my heart again, but more considerately now. Who had he loved? Who had he lost?

They came to the main archway and stopped in the watery moonlight. The breeze stilled a bit, and I could make out what Frederica said, as she kissed Severus's stoic cheek. "I'll send an owl. Good night, darling. And happy birthday." Even her voice was lovely.

I noticed for the first time that she was carrying a broomstick, and Severus stood back as she mounted it and kicked off from the ground, soaring off towards the clouds. She was probably going back to France, where her lover lived.

My secrecy was suddenly shattered when Severus turned and looked directly at the fountain behind which I hid. "I know you're there."

I stepped out into the open, embarrassed by my immaturity for eavesdropping.

If this had been three years ago, it would have ended in a deduction of points and perhaps a miserable two hours of cauldron-cleaning as detention. My body tensed on instinct to receive whatever punishment he thought I deserved. But I slowly relaxed as I realised that no such thing would happen. Severus's eyes were guarded, but not malicious. There was a certain approachability to Severus, an openness in his body that wasn't normally there. I figured it had something to do with whatever had gone on between him and Frederica earlier. I was grateful for the darkness, because I suddenly, inexplicably, blushed.

Frederica's parting words floated back to me. "Happy birthday," I ventured, almost apologetically, to break the awkward silence. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing to say to a man like Severus–and I was sure he didn't want anyone knowing about it. But I didn't want to pretend I hadn't heard.

"Thank you," he said.

The breeze moved his robes gently, and his hair. He was looking at me fixedly, and I felt something coil in my belly. His eyes had always been like deep tunnels, but for the first time they seemed to lead somewhere. He seemed to be trying to tell me something. Or perhaps it was only the time of night, and the darkness, and I was misinterpreting things. I had the sudden feeling that I should walk away.

I felt the old shame and confusion creep back–he'd carried me, covered in sweat, and held me while he helped me drink the life-saving potion he'd brewed for me. Then he had turned swiftly cold again, as though none of it had happened. Now he seemed somewhere in the middle. I couldn't interpret his mixed signals, and the feeling in my gut told me I was afraid of what I would discover if I did.

"Good night then," I said.

I turned around and quickly went back inside the castle. I didn't know why my heart was beating so fast as I finally reached the stairs and paused for a moment by the window. Perhaps it was because Severus had seen me at my most vulnerable–most recently on the night of the full moon, but first in the hospital tent after the battle. I didn't usually think about it, but something about his eyes just then had made me feel completely exposed. I was only grateful that his look hadn't contained any pity.

Remus was fast asleep when I crept back into the room. My skin was cold from the outdoors and then the corridors, but it grew warm again as my heart constricted with love at the sight of him. His body was soft and gentle under the sheets, and I slipped in carefully beside him.

He stirred at my presence, and woke lightly. "Where did you go?" he murmured.

"For a little walk," I said. "Go back to sleep."

He brought me close, and nuzzled his cheek against my hair. I was enveloped in his warmth, and felt a deep sense of safety pulsing through my blood.

But it was difficult to forget the piercing look that Severus had given me. His eyes and his parted, almost-speaking lips floated in my mind as I fell asleep.

Seeing Frederica on the broomstick that night had reminded me of how much I missed flying. I hadn't mounted a broom since being in the Order, and especially not after Fred's death. It was too painful–he and George had been the ones to teach me how to fly. But now that there was so little to do around the castle, I thought I might try again.

I mentioned the idea to Remus over breakfast. "Could I join you?" he asked. I was a bit surprised, but realised I would be overjoyed to have his company.

After breakfast we went out to the shack that held the broomsticks, properly clothed. It would be cold up there in the sky, even though there was barely any wind, but I didn't care. I couldn't wait for that old familiar feeling of my face freezing, my body's only purpose to cut through the air and avoid birds.

My body was so full of adrenaline that I had to take a few deep breaths before mounting my broom. I was off to a bit of a shaky start–we'd selected the best broomsticks available, but mine still veered slightly to the side. We took a few laps around the pitch to get the hang of it again, Remus laughing as he zoomed high up. He was surprisingly graceful on a broom. "I used to fly when I was in school, you know," he informed me, when he saw the surprise in my eyes.

"Really?" I said. I hadn't pinned Remus as the Quidditch type.

"It was a hobby forced on me by Harry's father." I'd have expected the mention of James Potter to bring a shadow over Remus's face, but the joy of reliving one of their old shared hobbies seemed to outweigh the old grief, for the moment. He seemed unusually youthful. "One can be bookish and athletic, you know," he said.

"I know," I retorted, and we smiled at each other.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

I knew the answer without thinking. "Follow me," I said, and sped off in the direction of the lake.

We raced over the woods to the water. I dipped down towards it, banking slightly to touch the freezing surface with my fingertips, and screamed with abandon as I rocketed back up towards the clouds. I couldn't hear anything but my own reckless laughter for the air rushing past my ears. We flew wildly for about thirty minutes and then drifted away from the lake, going more slowly, high in the sky over Hogsmeade and the hills.

My eyes and nose had begun to run from the speed and the cold, and I held my sleeves to my cheeks, still gasping with joy. "This is brilliant," Remus said, surveying the land. We could see the castle, and the spots of light on the forest and the hills where the clouds broke.

We took it easy over the forest, and I was proud to note that I didn't feel any fear at the sight of the tall pines. We were far out over the distant hills, the castle barely visible through the fog, when I broached the subject of next autumn.

"I had a meeting with McGonagall," I said. "She asked me if I wanted to teach next year. I told her I wasn't sure about it. Do you know if you'll teach?"

"She met with me, too," Remus said. "I think I will. Just don't know what yet. I would take Defence Against the Dark Arts again, but I'm well aware Severus wants it."

"But you think I should say yes?"

"Well, yes. If you want to." He'd spoken casually, but there was something deeper underneath his words. Were we to work together, it would be one step deeper into sharing our lives. It was no small choice to make, and I suddenly felt quite intimidated.

I looked down at the small white specks of sheep far below, and suddenly felt a bit dizzy and nauseous.

"Do you want to go back?" said Remus, his voice worried. "It's been hours."

"Yes, please," I answered.

We circled back slowly around the forest, and landed back safely on the Quidditch pitch around noon. My stomach had settled, and though I was a bit achier than I would have been once, when I was still in the habit, I felt the bone-deep satisfaction that always came after a good few hours of flying. I felt my blood warm, alive and racing in my veins for the first time in a while. I had gotten very little exercise recently, and I had a feeling that I would be out on the broomstick every day now that I'd rediscovered how much I loved it.

We climbed the stairs to the classroom, panting. I watched Remus, thinking his limp might have returned, but it hadn't. On the contrary he looked the strongest and most invigorated I'd ever seen him.

We warmed our numb bodies by the fire, stripping off our outer robes. Both of us had sweated through our shirts. My skin was very sensitive, and I felt a bloom of desire as I watched Remus undress. But I held it down. The openness that had slowly regrown between us had not yet extended to anything sexual, and I didn't want my body to get its hopes up.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and caught him looking quickly away with a similar expression on his face.

"Want the shower first?" he said.

"You take it," I said, "I'll probably be longer."

In what I figured was a thoughtless moment, Remus took off his shirt. The desire that might have bubbled up in me at this was stunted by the sight of a new scar, a light pink colour, across his side ribs.

He saw me looking, and seemed to remember himself. But it was too late to hide it.

"Did you do that?" I asked, though I already knew.

"Sorry," he said.

I went to him, and carefully touched the skin that surrounded the narrow scar. He didn't flinch, but I thought I sensed a nearly undetectable ripple emanate through his body.

"It's fine," he said, his voice soft.

"Does it still hurt?"

"It's just a bit sensitive."

He was looking at me in that way, and it was easy, lifting myself up as he bent down and we kissed. I felt my body stirring–more than that. I was prepared already, and only prayed that he intended to go further than a kiss. My skin tingled, caught between the chill of the hours in flight, and the warmth of the high flames of the fire. I felt my blood rushing to my skin, and every one of Remus's touches was like gentle lightning to my blood.

"We could shower together," I whispered. "If you want to."

He swallowed, and nodded.

The water was warm at once, and steam furled along the stone walls. I took my hair out of its icy, tangled braid, and Remus watched me, a look of controlled patience in his face. Finally it came free, though a bit tangled. We took off our clothes, and Remus offered me his hand as we stepped into the shower.

My legs were already quaking. We lathered our hands with soap and gently caressed each other, just out of reach of the warm water.

Remus sighed as my hands wandered his chest and thighs. He lowered his head and rolled his tongue over my hard nipples. Our bodies were strong and firm; exhausted from the exercise, and therefore more free to do what they desired. We were full of trembling, and every touch was a shock to my previously numb fingers.

I choked on my own gasp when Remus's fingers stroked between my folds, and I gripped his shoulder. "Did that hurt?" he said, his voice worried though he was still panting with desire.

"No," I moaned. He grew more confident, and I in turn caressed his lower abdomen, and took him in my hand.

My ears luxuriated in the sound of his moaning. I felt unusually powerful. Feminine and whole.

"Do you think it will hurt if we…" he said.

"I don't think so," I assured him.

"If it does, we'll stop," he promised.

Despite the racing passion in my body, my eyes watered for a moment. "Thank you, Remus," I murmured.

He touched my face and kissed me deeply, his mouth warm and wide. I moaned, trembling as his hands lifted me against him, and he very gently slid inside of me.

I was quite sensitive and there was a low, deep ache, but Remus was ever so careful. The slowness of it only drew out my pleasure. Our moans echoed off of the stone walls, Remus's deep and mine lofty and unrestrained. The sound was drawn out of me with no effort, like a song. We finished, shaking against each other, barely strong enough to hold one another up. "Oh, Remus…" I shuddered. I was throbbing and flushed, and cried when he pulled out.

He held me against him, still shaking himself, and hummed to calm me as he gently washed between my legs. I clung to him under the warm water and he caressed the curves of my back soothingly, until my tears had ebbed and changed to sighs of euphoric laughter, which he joined in.

Afterward we dried and dressed. Completely exhausted and now very hungry, we walked down to the great hall, hoping we weren't too late for lunch. We were just in time to grab some sandwiches and an apple each before the leftover food disappeared from the tables.

We were on our own in the hall, and as we ate I rested one of my legs over Remus's knee, my blood still slowly stirring with the aftereffects of our intense intimacy.

But I quickly slipped my leg away when McGonagall appeared in the doorway.

"Ah, Wilma," she said. "I've been looking for you."

I could feel that my face was still flushed, and wondered if Minerva could tell what had recently conspired between Remus and me. But if she knew she courteously kept her knowledge well hidden.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Professor Trelawney would like your assistance in bringing the ghosts back to the school. As you know they've been hiding away somewhere on the grounds since the battle, and we haven't had any sign of them yet. Sybill says today is the right day to try."

It sounded a bit far-flung, but not out of the ordinary for Trelawney. I had noticed the absence of the ghosts, and though I had always been unnerved by them as a student, I now thought that to have them back would restore a kind of warmth to the school. Ironically.

"If more wands are needed, I'd be happy to help," Remus offered.

"I'm afraid Sybill was particular on having Wilma along, and Wilma alone."

I remembered how Trelawney had been certain that I was a seer when I'd been in her class, though I didn't think I was. I wasn't sure why she wanted my help in particular, but I was willing to offer it. I just didn't hope our mission didn't devolve into esoteric predictions that I found highly doubtful and difficult to follow.

"Alright," Remus said.

I regretted leaving him, but knew I had to go. Trelawney was standing in the doorway worrying her lip, and smiled hopefully when I looked over at her, giving a little wave.

"Good morning, Professor," I said politely, when I had joined her.

"Oh, please dear," she said, in her airy, fidgety voice, her eyes wide through her strange glasses. "Call me Sybill."

Despite all of her oddities, I had to admit that as we trekked through the Forbidden Forest, Sybill began to grow on me. I understood for the first time why she and Minerva were such close friends. She was weird, no doubt, but had an innocence and warmth in her heart that was wonderful to be near. She reminded me quite a bit of Luna.

Sybill said that we needed to go to a particular grove of trees in the forest, where the magic was very strong, in order to summon the ghosts. I'd never heard about this grove, but didn't entirely doubt that there was some truth in what Sybill said. Especially when we got there. The trees seemed taller and gentler, and grew in a perfect circle. There was an air of deep and watchful power. "Watch out for faerie rings," Sybill warned, as she led me through the trunks into the centre.

I breathed deeply and made myself gentle, wanting to respect the magic. I felt the slow acceptance of the trees as they recognised me as no threat.

"Now, dear," said Sybill, as she pressed her hands together, drawing on her reserves of wandless magic. "All you need to do, is be sure I don't faint."

A bit of nervousness sparked in my throat. "And what do I do if you faint?"

"Oh, I probably won't, dear. But if I do, just revive me."

And then she began. I didn't know exactly what she was doing, but it looked like a kind of magic that was either very ancient or very improvised. She held her hands palm-up to the sky, and tilted her head back as she began to chant words I didn't recognise. I thought perhaps she was speaking in tongues. The trees had begun to waver slightly, though there was no wind, and I kept a careful eye on my old Professor as she chanted on and on.

Time was hard to follow, but it may have been two or three minutes before she fell silent. Her eyes grew large, as she looked up at the sky, her nose twitching with uncertainty.

In the distance, over the forest and the hills, I began to hear a sharp whistling sound, like a fast and brutal wind. Quite soon, the sky above us had grown white, and I realised that it was not a sudden chaos of clouds, but many ghosts whirlpooling around one another. I suddenly felt very chilly from their presence, but far from joyless. My jaw dropped, and I cheered. She had done it!

We waited as the ghosts slowly calmed, and their separate shapes grew more defined. Promptly they began to recognise one another, raising their voices and embracing all around. They seemed very much unaware of us.

Sybill called up to them. "Hello, all of you! If you'd like to follow us back to the castle, we would delight in your long-lost company."

They looked down at us, grumbling, and conferred amongst themselves in low voices. "What is it like?" said one ghost, at last. I recognised him as Sir Nicholas, Gryffindor house's resident ghost. "Still in ruins?"

"Certainly not," Sybill assured them. "Hogwarts is alive and well as ever before."

With a general grumble of laughter at something they'd apparently found funny about Sybill's words, they agreed at last. They followed behind Sybill and me in a long pale train through the tall pine forest.

Soon their happy greetings turned into the usual petty quarrels so familiar from my school days. I loved listening to their old-fashioned talk, but thought it was probably a good thing that they had still not been around when the Ministry inspectors had come, or perhaps their verdict would have been less favourable.

Back at the castle, the ghosts complimented our renovations with wonder, and began to disperse among the corridors in search of their favourite haunts. I thought perhaps we should find a way to warn the other people in the castle so that nobody was startled by an unexpected ghost. But it was too late now.

I was about to slip away, but Sybill held out her hand. "Won't you join me in my office for tea, dear?" she said.

Unable to refuse, I agreed. I didn't want to be rude, and besides I wouldn't turn down a nice warm cup of tea after the long journey through the forest.

Trelawney's classroom was just as I remembered it. We had to climb the ladder to the trapdoor to get in, and the walls were covered in old dusty drapes and tapestries. Her crystal ball sat in what looked like a cushioned bird bath in the centre of the floor, and the shelves on the walls were full of the paraphernalia of her craft.

I took a seat on a plush red stool and looked around as Sybill hummed over the fire and the copper kettle. The tea was thick and hot, and I sipped it gratefully, glad for the rejuvenation it brought to my weary joints. I was sure to sleep well later.

I had grown tired, and wanted to go and find Remus. I thanked Sybill for the tea, but before I could stand she reached across the table, picked up my teacup, and gasped.

Though today's events had increased my respect for the witch, it still took all I had not to roll my eyes. I now remembered the lesson in which she'd taught us to read tea-leaves. I should have seen this coming.

"Oh, it's as I thought," she said, and looked up at me hopefully, as though I were meant to understand.

"What is it?" I said, humouring her more than anything.

"My dear!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide. "You're pregnant!"