September 30, 3 a.m., and Aurora still couldn't fall asleep. She finally gave up trying, climbing the steps to the Astronomy Tower. The cool night air greeted her as she stepped out, her eyes immediately drawn to the moon. It was a full moon that night, radiant and mesmerizing, casting its silver glow over the castle grounds.
Aurora sighed softly, staring up at it. The full moon had always held a strange power over her. Some people claimed they couldn't sleep during a full moon, and for her, that was partially true. She could never resist the pull to sit by her window or, like tonight, climb the tower to admire its beauty. Despite the exhaustion that would inevitably follow the next day, she always felt it was worth it.
But as she gazed at the luminous orb, her thoughts shifted. She thought of Remus Lupin.
He must have been suffering at that very moment, enduring the agony of transformation. It pained her to think of him somewhere nearby, alone and battling the curse he carried. The same moon that filled her with wonder was his tormentor.
Aurora wrapped her arms around herself against the chill, feeling a pang of sadness. It didn't seem fair that something so breathtaking could also cause so much pain.
As the sky began to shift from indigo to soft shades of orange and pink, signaling the start of a new day, Aurora descended the tower. She decided to head to the kitchens for some much-needed coffee. There was no escaping the full day of lessons ahead, sleepless night or not.
She was about to descend the stairs leading to the ground floor, located near the exit to the school grounds. There was no urgency in her steps; she moved leisurely, aware she still had plenty of time to spare.
Aurora rubbed her tired eyes, stifling a yawn every few moments. But as she reached the top of the stairs, her attention was suddenly drawn to a figure stealthily approaching the school. Instinctively, Moonridge drew her wand, her grip tightening as she illuminated the figure with a quick spell.
The light revealed the figure's face, and Aurora's breath hitched in relief. It was Lupin.
Quickly tucking her wand away, she dashed down the stairs to meet him, her feet moving so fast she nearly lost her balance halfway down.
"Remus?" she asked softly as she approached him, concern etched across her face. "Is everything okay?"
He didn't look well at all. His face bore fresh scratches, deep dark circles hung under his eyes, and his skin was alarmingly pale. He could barely walk, each step seemingly a challenge. Aurora didn't even want to imagine the state of his body beneath the layers of clothing.
"It's nothing, really," he replied, his voice hoarse and unconvincing.
"Remus, how can you say that?" she countered gently but firmly. "Forgive me, but you look like seven misfortunes rolled into one. Besides, you don't have to pretend with me. I'm not a student, Remus." Her voice softened as she stepped closer. "I know about your condition, just like the rest of the teaching staff. We were informed."
"I don't need your pity" Remus said, his tone clipped, though the exhaustion in his voice betrayed him.
"Remus..." Aurora said softly, sadness in her eyes. "I just want to help."
"Thank you, but I'll manage," he replied sharply, clearly trying to maintain his dignity.
He began to limp towards the stairs, each step looking more precarious than the last. Aurora felt her heart twist; it seemed like he might collapse at any moment.
"You don't have to deal with this alone," she said gently, her pace quickening as she approached him.
"Auro—" he started, but the words were cut short as Aurora stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a firm, caring embrace.
"You know," Aurora murmured softly, her arms still wrapped around him, "my granny always said a hug could cure everything." She leaned back just enough to look at him, her gaze gentle and unwavering. "And you look like you need it right now."
Remus let out a soft, weary chuckle, though there was a flicker of reluctance in his eyes. "Aurora, I—" He hesitated, his shoulders sagging as the weight of his exhaustion seemed to catch up with him. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he let one arm rise to return the hug, his touch tentative at first but gradually steadying.
"I'm not sure your grandmother would count me as 'curable,'" he said wryly, his lips curving into a faint, fleeting smile.
Aurora smiled back, her voice tinged with quiet insistence. "She'd disagree. She believed everyone deserved kindness—especially when they thought they didn't."
Remus exhaled, a breath caught somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. Gently, he let his arm fall away and stepped back, though his hand lingered briefly on her shoulder. "Let's get moving," he said, his tone softening. "Before the students catch sight of us and we both end up with more questions than we'd like to answer."
Aurora nodded, her own exhaustion pressing against her like a heavy cloak, but she managed a teasing quip. "You mean before you ruin your reputation as the stern, mysterious professor?"
Remus arched a brow, his lips twitching upward. "I'm not stern!"
She laughed quietly, falling into step beside him. "Come on. Let me at least make sure you get to your quarters in one piece."
Remus had initially wanted to protest, to tell her he could handle it himself, but something in her quiet determination and the warmth of her smile made the resistance slip from his grasp.
"Merlin, that woman is so stubborn," he thought, though there was no anger behind the words—only a begrudging sense of surrender.
As Aurora gently guided him through the dimly lit corridors, her hand hovering protectively at his elbow, he couldn't help but notice how carefully she kept pace with his uneven steps. He was grateful that the hallways were silent, the late hour ensuring students were tucked away in their common rooms.
"Just a few more steps," Aurora murmured, glancing at him as they approached his quarters. Her tone was calm but firm, her presence unwavering in the face of his weariness.
Remus sighed, both in resignation and quiet relief, allowing her to lead the way. Perhaps, just this once, he didn't have to do it all alone.
Aurora would never have expected that her sister, Lucrecia, would one day drop by her class with her friends a few hours before their four of them looked strangely worried, a little scared, as if they had just found out about something could sense that something was wrong, so she closed the door behind them and locked it before the students she was supposed to have lessons with showed up.
"What's going on?" Aurora asked, her tone firm but curious.
"Where's Professor Lupin?" Lucrecia blurted out, her voice edged with urgency.
Aurora blinked in surprise. Why had they run to her with this question? The way they looked at her—eyes wide and anxious—made it seem as though the answer was a matter of life and death. Suspicion prickled at the back of her mind.
"It's important," Harry chimed in, his voice steady but earnest.
"Professor Lupin wasn't in class today," Ron added hesitantly, his gaze flickering between Aurora and the floor. There was a clear nervousness in his tone, and Aurora noticed that he seemed almost spellbound by her presence.
"I don't know where Professor Lupin is right now," she admitted, frowning. "Have you checked his office?"
"Professor Snape threw us out as soon as class ended," Hermione interjected quickly, her words tumbling over each other. "He taught Potions instead of Defense Against the Dark Arts today. And... well, we're worried. No teacher has lasted more than a year in this position, and—" She paused, catching her breath, her face slightly flushed. "We're afraid Professor Lupin might have left."
Aurora studied their faces, the mix of fear and urgency in their expressions twisting something inside her. "Listen," she said, her voice calm but firm, "Professor Lupin wouldn't just leave without a he just doesn't feel I ask why you come to me with this question?"
"Because you're my sister," Lucrecia said firmly, "and you won't throw us out of class like the other teachers."
Aurora rolled her eyes. Of course. Being her sister apparently meant she was obligated to spill every secret she might know, especially when it came to Professor Lupin.
"Lucrecia," Aurora said with a sigh, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't leave my classroom very often. I'm hardly privy to everyone's whereabouts or their life stories."
"But you talk to him all the time at meals in the Great Hall," Lucrecia pressed, her voice laced with a mix of stubbornness and worry.
Aurora raised a brow. "Because we sit next to each other. And because Professor Lupin, unlike some other professors, is actually pleasant to talk to."
Aurora felt a flicker of irritation building within her. She understood why Remus was unable to teach his lessons, but she was bound to secrecy. His condition was not hers to reveal, not to her students, and certainly not to their parents.
"Professor Moonridge," Hermione began earnestly, her eyes filled with concern, "Please, if you know anything, tell us. Professor Lupin is a wonderful teacher. He's brilliant at sharing his knowledge, and he treats us with so much kindness."
Harry nodded, his voice soft yet sincere. "He really understands us."
"Guys, I understand that you care about Professor Lupin and are worried about him," Aurora began, her tone firm but understanding. "I enjoy talking to him too, but I honestly don't know anything. And even if I did, I couldn't discuss the private lives of other teachers with you. When he's back, I'm sure he'll decide for himself whether to share anything with you. Now, please, head to your next lesson. You don't want to be late."
"But—" Lucrecia started to protest.
"The students I'm supposed to teach are waiting outside the door," Aurora interrupted, her voice sharper now. "So please, go on."
She unlocked the door and gestured for them to leave. It was polite enough, but there was no mistaking the subtle edge in her insistence. You could almost say she ushered them out, perhaps even threw them out, in the politest way possible.
Once the door slammed shut behind them, Aurora leaned against the desk, rubbing her forehead in frustration. Her thoughts were still tangled with Lupin and the secret that weighed so heavily on both of them. She knew there was no easy way to navigate this, but the students' concern, and her sister's insistence, had made the whole situation feel worse than it already was.
She sighed, trying to push the gnawing worry from her mind. She still had a lesson to teach, a full class to prepare for.