Remus Lupin awoke with a start, panting and sweaty. At first, he didn't recognize his surroundings, and began to panic when the room around him swirled in and out of view - but as his eyes unblurred from sleep, it started to come back to him. This was his new home, at least until it became clear to McGonagall that he was not the person she was looking for to teach DADA this year. It was a small but cozy cabin, comprised of one large room with a sitting area, large wooden bed, kitchenette, and a separate bathroom. A little trapdoor in the floor opened to a basement stairwell, which he figured was an area probably intended to be used by him during the full moons, if the Shrieking Shack wasn't necessary. The fire in the wide stone hearth had burned down to embers sometime in the night, and the sun was now streaming through the front windows on either side of the door.
Remus hadn't unpacked his things yet, having curled up into his exhaustion on the bed late the evening before, but he figured he could do it after the school day ended. Unfortunately, his rest wasn't quite restful, and as he reached into his mind for the reason why, a flood of memory invaded his senses.
He couldn't remember anything after laying down to sleep before a strange pulling sensation tugged into his unconsciousness, which carried him to the exterior of the Great Hall, where he had been even more confused than he was when he'd woken up this morning. It appeared he was back in the Battle, but he got a strange sense this wasn't one of his recurring nightmares - it felt so real. Unlike the fogginess of a dream, everything felt so sharp and clear. He could feel the chill of the stones under his bare feet; could smell the acrid stench of blood and smoke pervading the air. But it wasn't as if he'd been sent back in time. It was so barren in this hall, compared to what it had been like during the Battle…barren, of course, except for a few corpses and the very alive Hermione Granger, cowering against a wall in a green nightgown.
None of it made any sense.
Whether it was a nightmare or somehow real, it was clear that Hermione needed to be taken from this place, and he'd stolen her away into the Herbology stores so she didn't have to stare at the carnage any longer. But it seemed that it had stained her mind just as clearly as the blood she'd stepped in had stained her skin, and her wide-eyed semi-catatonic stare was worrying him.
Get rid of the blood first. Then maybe she'll snap out of it.
It was improper, of course, to wash the feet of a teenage girl he'd mostly ever known as a student. He felt an almost dizzy sort of hilarity about the whole thing - who did he think he was, the Muggle Pope? But then again, what exactly was proper or normal in the context of what appeared to be a shared dream? It wasn't real…or was it?
The whole thing was mind-boggling. All he knew to do was to remedy the issue at hand, and that was to remove the physical evidence of the Battle from Hermione so she could no longer linger on it in traumatized horror. So he did, and it seemed to help.
Then, it was over.
He raised a hand to his face to rub his eyes in the morning light and was struck by what he saw: under the fingernails of his right hand was some sort of rust-colored deposit, as if he'd scraped them along something. Lupin stared at his fingers for a long while, trying to figure out what it could be, and then it hit him - this was the hand he'd wrapped in the rag to wash the blood off of Hermione's skin. That blood had stained him, just as he'd attempted to remove the stain from her.
That's impossible. It wasn't real.
Remus pulled himself out of bed and began to ready himself for the day, washing up in the bathroom's basin and pulling a comb through his floppy, bed-headed hair. He studied himself in the mirror as he did so. The grey at his temples was more persistent now than ever, and fine threads of silver shot through his close-trimmed beard as well. He hadn't yet crested forty, and yet lately he'd been feeling more aged than he remembered feeling since before the Second War. He was initially unsure why that was, but an ache in the pit of his stomach pointed to his growing friendship with a certain young and brilliant witch. Before this particular context, it hadn't seemed to matter as much. The scar that cleft his face in two also shouted at him for attention, a constant and mocking reminder: Look at what you've done! Look at what you are CAPABLE of doing! You're a monster, Remus Lupin - not even safe from yourself.
These thoughts were shaken off as Remus prepared his lessons for the day and dressed in his professor's robes, pulled over khakis and a button-down plaid shirt. It was pointless to preoccupy himself with such thoughts when they wouldn't change anything. But at least in his time back at Hogwarts, he could try and instigate other, positive change. That was the whole point of this year, wasn't it?
Lupin's heart beat fast as he awaited his first class of the day, Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Seventh and "Eighth" Years. He hadn't had any lessons before this one, which was to begin midday, but his nerves were buzzing so fiercely that he hadn't been able to force down any breakfast or lunch. As of now, Remus was running on pure anxiety. There was also the little fact that it was creeping closer to the full moon, and after this one, he would have to figure out another source of Wolfsbane - Snape's stores had finally been depleted. It was all tumbling around inside of him, and he felt the wolf scratching at the inside of his skin, begging to come out and relieve his stress. To give over to that instinct-based creature and not have to live within his own tortured thoughts seemed, at the moment, a bit like bliss.
Students began to stream in before he let these thoughts take too far over, and he arranged a wooden stool at the head of the class and leaned against it, smiling slightly at the exuberant youths. Even despite the horrors of the previous year, they were still managing to savor the excitement of the semester's beginning. It was nice that there were some things that would never change. Lupin felt a fluttering in his chest, like an entombed Snitch, when he saw Hermione enter, head down and deep in conversation with Ginny Weasley. He told himself this vibrating nervousness was from the uncertainty of whether she had experienced the same strange dream with him as well, and if they would be discussing that today if so. More than that, there were also the ramifications of what that would mean.
There was also another queasy pang when he spotted Draco Malfoy enter the classroom and sink into a chair near the back, though for very different reasons than what he felt when Hermione entered. It had been shocking seeing the boy in the Great Hall the day before; shocking that Draco had come back to school despite everything that had happened and everything that he'd done. Lucius was now in Azkaban but Narcissa had been let off the hook...and Draco, well, much of Draco's trial was pending, but it appeared McGonagall had somehow found it in herself to accept him back to Hogwarts in the meantime. Lupin wondered errantly if Malfoy still had the Dark Mark. Part of him hoped it still burned cruel and white-hot from time to time.
He hadn't yet found the same forgiveness as McGonagall.
Once everyone had settled in, Lupin crossed his arms and addressed the class. "Hello, all - some of you may recognize me from your Second or Third Year. My name is Professor Lupin, and I'll be teaching you Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. Clearly, considering the state of things last year, I'll have my work cut out for me. But I can assure you that you will be all right in this classroom, and you will not experience any of the things that you did when Carrow was your...erm...'teacher'. There will never be use of the Unforgivable Curses, neither in practice nor in punishment. And I promise that, under my watch, you will always feel safe and empowered, and will receive a proper Defense education. Because that is what you are owed." His eyes skimmed over Hermione, sitting in the front row, and he saw her smile lightly and bite her lip. He coughed. "And we won't be diving into all of this right away. Rather, I'd like to use our first couple of lessons to begin a dialogue between us about what you would like to learn this year." A handsome, dark-haired boy sitting at the same table as Malfoy raised his hand. "Yes, Mr...?"
"Nott. Theo Nott." Most of the other students in the class turned to look at the questioner, but Hermione stayed looking steadily forward. Lupin clenched his jaw. Another Death Eater's son. It was becoming increasingly clear that he would have to work hard on his pre-judgments of those unfortunate enough to be related to Voldemort's scum. After all, he had to give every one of his students the same effort and quality in their education, despite how he felt about their abominable relatives.
"Yes. You have a question?"
"I was wondering if it was true - if you're really a werewolf." The students spun back to Lupin, awaiting his response.
Ginny Weasley swiftly beat him to the punch. "Fuck off, Nott," she breathed, looking livid. Hermione just gazed ahead, a slight sadness in her eyes, studying Lupin's reaction.
Remus took a deep breath. "Thank you, Ginny, but no. No. He has every right to ask, if it is a question truly based in curiosity."
"It was just something I'd heard," replied Nott, glancing to the side at Draco. Malfoy clearly had nothing to say - a shocking first - and stared down at the table, twisting a black quill in his lithe fingers.
"I am, yes," Lupin said, with scattered whispers following. "But that doesn't change my earlier point. You are safe here and in my presence, and that is something that is unaffected by my...condition. And in the interest of openness and honesty, I want you all to feel free to ask me any questions you like on that score. I know that it is important to our Headmistress that we foster increased understanding between magical communities. I won't be the one to cut that off at the pass." He saw Hermione smile once more.
"Does it give you access to different kinds of magic?" enquired Luna, thoughtfully.
Lupin smiled. "Not that I'm aware of. But I'll be sure to let you know if and when it happens, Miss Lovegood." She nodded, seeming fully satisfied by his answer. "Now, let's talk about what you hope to gain from your Defense education this year."
As the students filed out of class for the next lesson, Remus sat at his desk and looked appraisingly over the notes he had compiled with their feedback, interests, and questions. It was going to be a lot of work to get them back to a place where they trusted their educators - but he believed deeply in what he'd told them. They deserved a proper education. They deserved to feel safe.
While he contemplated this, Hermione hung back and approached the desk, clutching the notes she'd somehow gleaned from this very casual lesson. His heart thudded as she walked up, but he cleared his throat, steeling himself. She leaned against a table set in front of him and tilted a smile in his direction. "You know I'd like to see a syllabus, right?" she asked, mischievously.
He grinned. "All in good time, Miss Granger."
She shook her head, rolling up her parchment and sliding it into her satchel. "So."
"So."
She looked up at him. "Did it happen for you last night, too?"
Lupin swallowed and glanced around. "Bit of a charged question to ask in the classroom atmosphere, wouldn't you agree?"
Hermione flushed. "I mean - ! Sorry. You know. The dream."
Shit.
The image of her foot, pale and bloody and so small in his hands, flashed across his mind as he considered the ramifications of this, making his cheeks burn red-hot with the realization that she'd experienced the whole scenario with him. There was no denying it now - they had actively and lucidly shared the same space of unconsciousness. He'd never heard of anything like it before.
Why did I wash her feet? Idiot.
Hermione fumbled around in her satchel and pulled out the corner of a pastel green sheath of fabric. It had a translucent, umber-colored stain on it. Lupin's eyes widened as he gazed at it, remembering bumping her with the bloody rag after washing away the grime.
"Is that your..."
"Nightgown, yes. This was here this morning - it wasn't before."
"I don't understand."
"Well, I hate to say it, but neither do I. It seems like we experienced something real, though."
Lupin rubbed the back of his neck. "It was just a dream, Hermione. A strange and shared experience, yes, but just a dream. There must be some explanation."
She jerked the fabric forward at him, emphasizing the stain. "This isn't 'just a dream'. This is real. Is there any sort of magic..."
"I've never heard of that, no," he replied, firmly. "It could just be some sort of fluke."
The witch raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "How often does that happen in the magical world, Lupin?" she asked, annoyed. He shrugged. It was clear that she wasn't about to let this whole thing go - and he couldn't help but smile slightly, knowing that her tenacity was one of the things he most admired about her. Hermione shook her head slightly, and continued, "I'm going to go to the library and try and find any information I can about dream magic. Maybe there will be some answers."
"Of course you will," he answered with a smirk.
She smiled back. "Speaking of books, I have some materials I'd like you to take a look at. Over the summer I sourced some texts on Magical Law and its impact on magical creatures, and I think its something you'd be interested in." She ran a hand across the strap of her satchel contemplatively. "I really liked what you said before, about increasing understanding between magical communities. And about everyone deserving their magical education. I think it's something we should consider further when looking into other magical beings - marginalized ones."
"We?" he enquired, tilting his head.
"Yes. Who knows better about the marginalization of talented magical beings than yourself?"
He sighed. "Well, it is rather flattering that you'd call me talented, Granger." Hermione grinned at this, and reached her hand back into the satchel again, this time pulling out a round and shiny green apple. She reached across the desk and brandished it at him, motioning for him to take it. He did, now even more confused.
"It's a bit of a Muggle tradition, giving apples to your teachers. I picked a few of these before we left The Burrow yesterday," she explained.
Lupin crunched into it and, feeling the sour sweetness assault his tastebuds, squeezed his eyes shut. "My," he muttered, chewing carefully. "That's quite tart."
"I like those the best," Hermione responded. "They take you by the tongue and make you taste them." He glanced up at her, swallowing the masticated fruit dryly and barely avoiding choking. Hermione flushed again. "Well, there's something about the insistence of them that I like."
"I like them too," he responded numbly. A moment passed, and he watched her drag her front upper teeth across her bottom lip, pink creeping into her cheeks. "Hey, do you think you'll be making an appointment with Dr. Wendt? I'm rather curious about that whole thing."
She sighed. "I think I should. Not sure if I want to, though." He nodded. "I have a feeling it's going to be..."
"A lot," he finished, and she nodded.
"A lot, yes."
"I think it'll help, though, Hermione," Lupin stated. "And I would be immensely proud of you for taking that step."
The girl brightened. "Really?"
"Of course." They smiled at each other.
A chime rang somewhere in the distance, and Hermione jumped. "Oh, fu- ah, shoot, I have to get to the next lesson. I'll be bringing those books by to you soon!"
"Sure," Lupin laughed, as she sped to the door.
Hermione turned back before she left the room. "And I will be finding an answer to what happened last night. Count on that," she smirked, "Professor."
Lupin watched her leave and felt an emptiness at the loss of her presence. He bit into the apple once again, and savored its insistent sting on his tongue.
A/N: Thanks to all of you who have been commenting, bookmarking, and kudos-ing! It means the world to me, and I can't wait to bring you more of this story. Thanks for your patience as well with me getting out this chapter. Song referenced in chapter title is "We're Going to Be Friends" by The White Stripes. Any response is so appreciated! :)