Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline

"He Holds the Moon"

ooo

"I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you.

No mere human can stand in a fire and not burn."

- Possession, A.S. Byatt

BLACK DOGS

With the arrival of October came Quidditch season and Tristan started seeing less and less of his best friend as Harry spent most evenings out on the field. There was a time when he would've sold his right arm to be out there with him, but unfortunately, although an avid fan of Quidditch, Tristan, much to his own disappointment, wasn't a very good player. He lacked the dexterity and agility necessary to fly a broom well enough to be a Chaser and all other positions were filled already. Not that he might have stood a chance even if they weren't — he didn't think he would make a good Keeper or Seeker. Beater maybe, if he practiced religiously, which he didn't nor would as he was too lazy.

Classes dragged on. Hagrid continued to introduce them to harmless yet extraordinarily tedious creatures. Meanwhile Snape seemed to grow evermore unpleasant whereas Lupin got more and more fun.

"Oliver's gone off his rocker," said Harry one evening as he fell on the couch between Ron and Tristan, who snorted and rolled his eyes.

"When doesn't he? Every year his screws get a bit looser."

Ron looked up from the Astronomy charts he was working on. "You can't blame the bloke, can you? It's his last chance to win the Quidditch Cup."

"So's Jules, but even she thinks four hour practices are a bit much." Harry rolled his head, working the knots on his stiff neck with his fingers. "At least it's been paying off. I couldn't get any practice done over the summer, guess I'm making up for it now. What's with all the ruckus over there?"

A small crowd was gathered by the noticeboard in the corner and scattered around the common room several students were buzzing with excitement.

"They've set up a date for Hogsmead, it's on Halloween," Tristan explained while leaning over the arm of the couch to steal a glimpse at Hermione's charts to make sure he was doing his right. She noticed and tugged it out of view. "C'mon, Mione! I'm halfway done anyway!"

"Finish first, then I'll revise it," she said sternly.

Ron whipped his head around at once. "If you're gonna revise his charts, best revise mine too!"

"Oh honestly, Ronald, how old are you?"

"Excellent!" Fred Weasley exclaimed just behind the couch. Tristan tilted his head back to see the older, ginger-haired boy rubbing his hands with much gusto. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

Tristan smirked, "I wonder why. Couldn't possibly be because you've sold them all to first years, now could it?"

"Oh oh!" An arm circled around his shoulders as George Weasley flopped beside him. "Has your lovely sister been complaining about our little trading business?"

"Almost makes you want to cause more trouble just to have Nora all riled up, doesn't it, George?"

"Quite right, Fred! I too find her rather beguiling when she's furious."

"Oh sod off, the pair of you!" Not so amused anymore, Tristan jerked George's arm off his shoulders. "And quit talking about my sister!"

Cackling like two hyenas, Fred and George went to join their friend Lee Jordan, who was sitting at one of the tables in the back.

"Like either of them stands a chance with Nora," Ron scoffed.

Tristan agreed.

Meanwhile, Hermione had forgotten all about her charts as she tried to comfort a sullen Harry. "I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," she was telling him. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."

"Black's not fool enough to pull anything in Hogsmead," Ron interjected. "Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages—"

"Ron! Harry's supposed to stay in school—"

"He can't be the only third year left behind—"

Tristan elbowed Harry while Ron and Hermione kept going at it. "I don't mind staying with you, mate."

Harry frowned, "I mind it. Neither of us should have to stay behind. Ron's right; I think I'll ask McGonagall. Can't hurt, can it?"

It couldn't hurt, Tristan thought, but it wouldn't solve anything either. There was no way McGonagall was going to let Harry go to Hogsmead, not without a signed permission, and definitely not with Black on the loose.

However, as they walked to Transfiguration the next day, Harry's mind was made up.

Someone was crying when they entered the classroom, sobbing hysterically. Tristan narrowed his eyes when he spotted Lavender sitting in the front row with her face buried in her hands and her shoulders quivering. While comforting Lavender, Parvati was talking quietly to Dean and Seamus, both looking deadly serious.

"What on earth's the matter with you?" asked Tristan as he, Harry, Ron and Hermione joined the group.

"She got a letter from home this morning," Parvati answered in a hush. "It's her rabbit, Binky. He's been killed by a fox."

"Oh." Hermione's mouth twisted into a sympathetic frown. "I'm so sorry, Lavender."

At that, Lavender started wailing tragically, "I should've known! It's the sixteenth of October! Professor Trelawney said — 'that thing you're dreading, it will happen on the sixteenth of October' — remember? She was right, she was right!"

The whole class was beginning to crowd around her table, curious as to what had caused all the wailing and crying. Tristan and Hermione exchanged a look.

"You, err—" Hermione hesitated. "You were dreading Binky being killed by a fox?"

"Not necessarily by a fox." Lavender looked up at Hermione with tear-streaked eyes. "But I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn't I?"

Again, Hermione exchanged a look with Tristan. He subtly shook his head no. But of course, she couldn't help herself. "Was Binky an old rabbit?"

"N-No! H-He was only a b-baby!" Lavender broke into another round of tears. Beside her faithfully, Parvati tightened the hold on her shoulders.

"But then why were you dreading him dying?" It was Tristan who asked this time. Might as well, he thought.

When Parvati nailed him with a glare, Hermione quickly jumped in his defence. "Well, look at it logically. I mean, Binky didn't even die today, did he? Lavender just got the news today, and she can't have been dreading it because it's come as a real shock—"

"Don't mind Hermione, Lavender," Ron cut in sharply. He'd been in the foulest mood since last night after Crookshanks tried yet again to eat Scabbers. "She doesn't think other people's pets matter that much."

"I hardly think that's fair," Tristan argued.

Ron went bright red in the face and opened his mouth to argue back, probably something very rude. At that precise moment, Professor McGonagall opened the door.

Tristan and Hermione sat without talking to Ron and Harry, who were only a desk away, the whole class. He was unquestionably siding with Hermione on this one. Ron was getting angry because a cat wanted to hunt down a rat. It was absurd. Cats hunted rats — it was their nature. And if Crookshanks kept going for Scabbers instead of any other pet rat in the castle, then there was probably good reason for that. Crookshanks was extremely clever, even for a cat. Just like Ophelia. She never liked Scabbers either.

After class, Harry went over to plea his case to McGonagall. As expected she turned him down. Tristan decided to try his sister as a last resort.

He found Nora in the Great Hall with the Crowley twins and Julia at the Ravenclaw table. Swinging one leg over the bench next to her, he grabbed a hold of her hand while flashing his most convincing puppy-dog eyes.

"Can you please sign Harry's permission form so he can come to Hogsmead with the rest of us?"

Nora blinked, caught off guard. "Of course not, Tris, don't be silly. I'm not related to Harry. And even if I was, I don't have any authority to do that."

"You don't?" Disheartened, Tristan let go of her hand with a frown. "None at all?"

"Have you tried asking McGonagall?"

He sighed dejectedly. "Harry did already. She won't sign it, says only a parent or a guardian can… but it's not fair, is it? At least the old hag signed ours when we asked, Harry hasn't got anyone."

"I know, sweetheart. C'mere…" Nora pulled him into a hug and for once Tristan accepted the gesture without any of the usual whining.

"Why don't you have Fred and George sneak him out?" Julia suggested. "They do it all the time, it's how we've been smuggling booze inside the castle for the last few years."

Nora seemed to choke on air. "Don't blurt that out in front of my little brother! Are you mad?"

"He would've found out eventually!"

"Not at thirteen!"

Sunday morning Nora was startled awake by another nightmare. She hadn't had one since her first week back and it threw her off so hard, she ended up with her head down the toilet emptying out her dinner. As she sat there, on the cold bathroom floor trying to catch her breath, forehead plastered against the porcelain, she wondered if the nightmares would ever stop. If maybe, just maybe, there would ever come a day when she wouldn't have to worry about closing her eyes at night.

Nora picked herself off the floor with tremendous effort. She rinsed her teeth until the taste of acid was gone from her mouth and splashed some cold water on her face while avoiding looking in the mirror over the sink. She didn't need to see her reflection to know she looked like a ghost, pale and gaunt under an unkempt mess of hair.

Dressed in jeans and a warm cashmere sweater, she slipped out without bothering her roommates. The castle was eerily dark in the early hours of the day. Not a single soul crossed her path on the way outside. All for the better, Nora decided. She didn't want to see anyone.

Chilly wind slithered under her clothes and pierced her skin like needles as she walked along the lake shore. She didn't venture too far, out of fear of running into one of the dementors patrolling the grounds, only enough to reach her favourite oak tree at the edge of the woods. Massive in size and ancient in age, the oak's roots were long and thick, bulging from the ground. She climbed one and sat on it with her knees drawn to her chest.

It was getting worse, Nora thought as she watched a large tentacle breach the still waters and disappear under again. The helplessness… that sinking hollowness in her heart.

For the first time ever she was close to being out, and yet she felt defeated all the same. What kind of life could she give Tristan on her own? Their grandmother would never let her walk out with her share of the money. Nora could manage if it was just her, she'd never needed much anyway. A roof over her head, food in her belly and some books to pass the time were more than enough to keep her content. But Tristan would need expensive supplies and manuals for school. He was a growing boy so he would also need clothes, shoes… and she didn't want to deprive him of having fun with his friends or enjoying himself. Even more worrying than that, what if Maximus decided to come after them? He'd said it before, hadn't he? That she belonged to him. How could she ever believe he would simply let her go?

Nora gave a sad sniff, lowering her chin to her knees. In the end, she was still just a scared, weak little girl. Could she get any more pathetic?

A rustling noise to her left startled her from her depressing thoughts. She slid off her root and peered over the one next to it. To her absolute amazement, there was a huge black dog with its muzzle stuffed deep inside a rabbit burrow at the base of the tree. The dog was pawing at the dirt, making low, guttural growls, annoyed that its prey was proving difficult.

"Hello there," said Nora after recovering from the initial shock. The dog jolted with a yip, scrambling backwards so fast it seemed to trip over its own legs. She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. It's all right, I won't hurt you."

Keeping her voice calm, her movements slow, she raised her hands to show she meant no harm. The dog tilted its head, yellow eyes full of mistrust watching her intently from under shaggy, overgrown bangs. He was extremely thin, bristly fur all tangled up in knots. Nora doubted the poor thing had seen a kind gesture in a long time.

"You must be starving." She smiled good-naturedly when the dog's ears perked up. "I doubt wild rabbits make much of a nutritious meal. Shall I fetch you something sturdier? Will you be a good dog and wait here for me to come back?"

Nora wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a glimpse of human intelligence flash behind those disconcerting yellow eyes.

Trusting the dog wouldn't go running off, she ran back to the castle and down into the kitchens. The little elves were more than eager to help, stuffing leftovers from last night's feast in a wicker basket, as well as some freshly baked blueberry muffins which they first tried to coax Nora into eating but she gently declined.

When she made it back to the oak tree, a familiar black muzzle poked out from under a root, tiny nose twitching. Nora chuckled, going to sit on the ground with her back against the oak. She pulled out a half eaten roast chicken from the basket on her lap, tossed it a few feet away.

"Well, go on," she urged when the dog didn't come out at once. "No need to be shy. Got it for you, didn't I?"

The dog came around hesitantly. He gave the meat a good whiff, sent Nora another suspicious glare. After the meat seemed to pass the test, he settled down with it between his massive paws. Sharp teeth flashed before sinking into flesh.

Encouraged by the dog's voracious appetite, she decided to give one of the muffins a try. Her stomach was still a bit queasy, but she was beginning to feel peckish.

"We don't see many dogs round Hogwarts," Nora said to fill the silence as she nibbled on a small piece of the muffin. The dog paused for a quick second. "I've only ever seen Fang, he's a boar-hound that belongs to our gamekeeper. Fang's not quite as big as you and he slobbers all over me whenever I stop by to visit, but he's very sweet. I wonder… are you a boy or a girl?"

The dog let out a disgruntled sneeze.

"Ah," she nodded understandingly. "A boy. Had a feeling you would be. Do you've plans to stick around for a while? I can bring you food, but we'll have to keep it a secret from everyone. I'm not sure my professors would approve of my feeding a wild dog. Maybe I should give you a name..." The dog raised his head at that. "I can't very well keep calling you dog, can I? It's terribly confusing. Let's see… How about Boris?"

The dog sneezed again.

"Oh all right, not Boris. How about… Fenrir? It's the name of a mythical wolf, you know, though I suppose you look more like a bear than wolf… No? Well, you're a picky one, aren't you?" Nora's eyes landed on her book. Picking it up, she brushed her fingers over the hard cover. "Byron…" she uttered quietly, trying out the name. The dog tilted his head with interest. "Do you like that?"

He barked gruffly.

"That's settled then. Byron it is." She finished the rest of her muffin and tossed Byron, who was now licking the bones clean, a few strips of bacon. "It's quite the name to live up to. I'm fond of Lord Byron myself. He was a rebel and a defiant. A true romantic. I love his poems."

Nora held very still when the dog heaved off the ground and slowly inched closer. He dropped back down, this time pressed against the side of her thigh.

With a gruff whine, Byron nudged the book in her hand. "You want to hear some?" He nudged the book again, making her laugh. "Clever dog. Very well, I'll read you a few of my favourites…"

What an odd girl, Sirius thought as he watched her doze off against the tree.

Soon as her eyes had drooped and her grip on the book had gone slack, he'd stuffed his muzzle in the small basket and wolfed down whatever was left of the food she smuggled from the kitchens. He still couldn't believe his luck. He'd gone so long feeding off skinny rabbits and small rodents that he'd forgotten what cooked meat tasted like. And those blueberry muffins? An absolute godsend.

He planned on leaving afterwards, yet for some reason found himself compelled to stay. It wasn't every day one saw a young girl approach a mangy, dangerous-looking mutt without a single moment's thought. She was such a slight thing too, any strong gust of wind would knock her off her feet for sure. Damn pretty though, Sirius mused, studying the feminine lines of her face, those thick eyelashes as they fanned against freckled, rosy cheeks. A sort of pretty that was almost innocent and fragile, like a porcelain doll. She certainly had eyes like one — big and sparkly, and so very blue.

Escaping Azkaban had taken a lot out of him. Anger and hatred, cooked up with hunger, thirst and exhaustion, had consumed and fed off his sanity, pushing him right to the verge of madness. At some point he genuinely considered giving up. His need for revenge was the only thing that kept him going. But now, thanks to this girl who showed up out of nowhere, he felt like he had caught his second wind. With a bit of luck, maybe she would keep her promise to bring him food, and with the haze of hunger gone, he could finally focus on finding a way to sneak inside the castle and help the cats hunt down Wormtail.

Heavy footsteps heading their way reached his sharp ears. Hurriedly, Sirius ducked under one of the roots and darted for the forest, hiding behind some thick bushes while still keeping a clear view of the tree and the girl sleeping at its base in case it was some pervert who might try and take advantage of her.

His stomach plummeted out of him as Remus came around the tree. He looked older, much older than a man his age should look like. Life, it seemed, hadn't been kind to his friend either. Remus didn't have scars on his face the last time Sirius saw him, twelve years ago. His hair had lost some of its rich colour too, now beginning to fade at the temples.

Surprise passed over his handsome, scarred face when he spotted the slumbering girl, before it settled into an amused smile.

"Nora," Remus called, dropping to a crouch and shaking her gently by the shoulder. "Wake up, darling, you shouldn't be sleeping here."

She blinked, dazed and out of sorts, sitting up. It took her a moment to recognise the person in front of her. When she did, her cheeks went from pale to bright red faster than lightning.

Still in dog form, Sirius barked something that resembled a laugh.

"P-Professor Lupin! W-what— what're you doing here?"

Remus made himself comfortable next to her. "I thought I'd come for a stroll before breakfast. Why are you all the way out here in the cold so early on a Sunday morning?"

"Oh, err…" Nora glanced around. Sirius assumed it was to make sure the dog was gone. Then, she shrugged and grabbed her book off the floor, brushing dirt from the cover. "I couldn't sleep, figured the air might do me good."

"I see. Would you like to talk about it?"

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "I'd much prefer we talk about something else if you don't mind."

"Of course. I noticed Tristan seemed a bit down lately. Any reason in particular?"

"He's upset because Harry didn't get permission to go to Hogsmead and Professor McGonagall won't sign on it either. He actually came to ask me for help, can you imagine? I mean, really, what did he expect me to do?"

"Ah, yes," Remus nodded understandingly. "Professor McGonagall mentioned something of the sort to me yesterday."

Sirius, who'd already been interested, was now fully invested in their conversation. The girl was friends with Harry. Good friends, it sounded like. That might come in handy later, he decided. If he gained her trust, even as a dog, she might hear him out.

"Oh!" Nora suddenly bolted upright in her seat, eyes alight with hope. "Could you maybe sign his permission form? Harry would be so happy! They both would!"

"You make it very hard to say no when you look at me like that," Remus teased in good manner. "But I'm afraid it's out of my reach."

She sat back, enthusiasm all but gone. "That's a shame…"

"It is, yes. I might invite him over for tea to cheer him up, do you think he would like that?"

"I'm sure he will, professor." Nora tilted her head with a disarming smile. "I know I would."

Remus laughed heartily, "Cheeky, Miss Cavanaugh. Might you also be fishing for an invitation?"

"Certainly I wouldn't mind having a look at that book collection you keep boasting about."

"So it's only my books you're after then, is it?"

Moony, you sly wolf, Sirius thought, both impressed and astounded. He never would have imagined Remus had it in him to flirt with a girl nearly half his age. Especially one so stunning as Nora.

"Not only your books," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a blush. "I happen to enjoy your company too."

Remus smiled without taking his eyes off her. "You flatter me, Nora. I'd love to have you over for tea, but I imagine you must have better things to do with your time than indulging an old, boring professor."

"I don't think you're boring at all. Or old for that matter," Nora added as a second thought. "You must be what, thirty-five? Forty at the most."

"Thirty-three, but good guess." Remus let out a nervous laugh, as if talking about his age made him uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he reached for her book, prying it off her fingers. "A fan of poetry, I see. It shouldn't come as surprise given your brilliant taste in literature. You really never cease to amaze me, Nora."

If possible, her cheeks went even darker.

Sirius scoffed from where he was hiding. Smitten; the girl was completely smitten. They both were. It was like watching one of those sappy films muggles loved to watch.

"It isn't anything to be amazed by…"

"I beg to differ." Remus stretched one leg, bent the other at the knee, balancing his arm over it while flipping through the book. "An interesting choice, Lord Byron. I also enjoy his work. In fact, he reminds me of an old friend of mine. I suppose that might be why I enjoy it so much."

Nora angled herself so she was fully facing him. "What was he like? This friend of yours."

"Impulsive, for one," Remus answered without faltering. "And stubborn as a damn mule. Always managed to drag me into whatever trouble he cooked up, even when I explicitly refused to take any part in it. But he had a softness to him, you know. One he tried hard not to show. It's what I liked best about him, I think; that despite his most glaring flaws, he remained kind and loyal to the people he loved."

Sirius closed his eyes in agony. Hearing that was torture. How could he have ever doubted Remus? How could he have ever thought him a spy of the enemy? He should have known better. Remus wouldn't have betrayed his friends or turned his back on his beliefs.

Back then there was so much fear and mistrust. They were never sure who they could or couldn't trust. It was safer to push people away.

If only he'd had a bit more faith in Remus, perhaps he wouldn't have made the mistake of trusting the wrong person… and perhaps James and Lily might still be alive.

"Don't be sad," Nora said worriedly, bringing a hand to his arm. Remus looked down at her hand, then her face. She was closer than he'd realised. He could see the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheekbones, each dot beautifully painted on her skin like stars in the sky. His heart stuttered.

She had sea-goddess eyes. Calm and serene on the surface, yet a storm lay hidden somewhere in those depths, dormant, just waiting to come alive. He could see it — like fire trapped in water, passion below the ice. He ought to be very careful when staring into those eyes. Nora had no idea of the power she held in them, of how she could completely strip a man of his common sense with one single glance. He wondered if she still would have sat so comfortably next to him had she known all the shameful thoughts that plagued his mind whenever he looked at her.

They held each other's gaze for what felt like a lifetime before they both moved away, Nora drawing her hand back, stapling her fingers on her lap. Remus found that he missed the warmth of her soft touch much more than he'd like to admit.

"I'm not sad," he finally said with a small smile. "Only a bit nostalgic. I suppose I have been since I've returned to Hogwarts. Everywhere I look I'm reminded of my days as a student."

She contemplated him curiously. "And that isn't a good thing? Were you not happy as a student?"

"I was quite happy, more so than I ever was again, but it's hard. I've lost all my friends in the war. At times it feels like all my happy memories have been tainted by loss."

"I didn't know you were in the war, that must've been awful…"

Well done bringing down the mood, Remus thought as he saw her sadden in front of him. "Forgive me, Nora. I wanted to cheer you up, yet it seems I've managed the opposite."

"Not at all!" She stared up at him with a smile, "You're wonderful, truly."

"Well—" He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up. "What if I recite my favourite poem from Lord Byron to make up for my unfortunate slip?"

"I won't say no if you insist," she chuckled.

As Nora sat there, so beautiful and lovely under the pale sunlight, he couldn't resist reaching out to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear. She flushed beautifully. And the words stumbled from his mouth:

"She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes: thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies —"

"— One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impaired the nameless grace which waves in every raven tress—"

"— Or softly lightens over her face; where thoughts serenely sweet express how pure, how dear their dwelling place —"

"— And on that cheek, and over that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tints that glow, but tell of days in goodness spent, a mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent."

There was silence when he finished. The tips of his fingers tingled where he'd touched her. All around them, the air seemed to have thickened with electricity, invisible swirls of hot static that made his heart pound wildly.

"I've read that one before, it's in the book," Nora said, peering up at him from under her eyelashes. "You've quite a talent for reciting poetry, professor. Is it really your favourite or did you only say that to be charming?"

"Depends." Remus leaned in with a roguish smile. "Did you think I was charming?"

She laughed in a way that made her sea-goddess eyes sparkle prettily, and he found himself utterly bewitched by her.

All morning they sat under the large oak. Remus kept conversation light and fun, steering away from things that could sadden her, focusing instead on things that made her happy. Nora had been very pale when he first stumbled on her, but some colour was slowly returning to her face. She was smiling a lot more too. He took immense pleasure in knowing it was because of him.

It was well past lunchtime when he decided they should head back inside.

"It's Sunday," Remus pointed out upon sensing her disappointment. "Your friends are probably going to be looking for you."

"I suppose," Nora agreed reluctantly. "What do you do on the weekends, professor?"

He was a little surprised by the question. "Catch up on my work mostly, plan my next classes, grade homework and essays… boring stuff, really."

"Do you enjoy it? Teaching?"

He smiled warmly. "I do, very much."

"That's nice..." Nora sighed wistfully. "I haven't a clue what I'm going to do after school."

"I wouldn't worry, there's still time. You're quite skilled with magical creatures as I recall. I've also heard Hagrid speak a great deal about it. Perhaps you could do some work in the field of magizoology."

"I certainly wouldn't mind. I've always loved animals."

"I have a question for you about that." Remus stuffed his cold hands in his pockets. "Does your affinity work on all animals or is it limited to magical creatures?"

"I haven't tried with all of them, but it hasn't failed me yet," Nora replied good-naturedly as they climbed the small steps into the castle.

He hadn't realised how chilly it was until they stepped inside. Heat flooded him, from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes.

They stopped outside the Great Hall, out of sight from those inside, yet close enough they could hear the sound of loud chatter, laughter and the clinking of cutlery. Then they just stood there, both equally reluctant to end their time together.

Remus and Nora looked at each other and shared a laugh.

"Moments like these make me long to be a student again," he said with a soft smile. "It's not as much fun sitting at the high table."

"Maybe next weekend I could stop by your office, intrude on your boring work?" Nora suggested in earnest.

Remus swallowed dryly. Spending time alone with her was dangerous. She was too lovely and pretending like she wasn't a student was far too easy.

Everything about Nora intoxicated him, luring him in like a moth to a flame. The sound of her voice and the way she talked with her hands, her quick-witted remarks, her beautiful smile. And yet, the word no simply refused to come out. When was the last time a woman was so keen to enjoy his company? And when did he actually want to be with one?

Powerless against his own desire, he caved.

"Sounds wonderful, Nora. I can have lunch brought up for us if you'd like, and I have an old record player that wouldn't mind some use."

Nora grinned brightly. Rising on her toes, she reached up to smooth his bangs out of his eyes. "I've been wanting to do that all morning. See you in class, professor."

Dangerous, that small, sensible voice whispered in his ear as he watched her disappear into the Great Hall.

Remus waited a long time before following, knowing fully well that for the rest of the day it would be beyond the bounds of possibility to focus on anything else but Nora and the next time he would see her.

Soooo... what did you guys think? I loved writing this chapter, especially Remus and Sirius's POV.

Btw I strongly recommend going on YouTube and searching for the version of Lord Byron's poem recited by Tom Hiddleston. He has such a characteristic and charming voice, and he recites the poem wonderfully, it's all a woman can do not to swoon eheh

It's also how I imagine Remus would do it. An eloquent and charismatic man like him, he's got to have some major poetry-reading skills.