Hi, everyone! Hope you're all having a great 2022 so far!

Just a quick note, I changed something in chapter 5. It was nothing big. Originally I had Liam not taking NEWT-level Potions but since then I decided on another career for him and he needs Potions to pursue it.

After that, I also realised I'd made another mistake when I first published this chapter. For those of you who read the first version, Nora says Gryffindor is playing Hufflepuff but at this time they're still supposed to be playing Slytherin. It's only later that Slytherin asks for a change and Gryffindor plays Hufflepuff! So sorry, but it's been corrected already!

Anyway — on with the story!

Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline

"He Holds the Moon"

ooo

"The real lover is the man who can thrill you by kissing your forehead or smiling into your eyes or just staring into space."

- Marilyn Monroe

CONFESSIONS OVER WINE

Nora had been acting, in Tristan's opinion, rather peculiarly. The changes were subtle, barely noticeable at all except to those who knew her well, but for the last week it seemed like every time he saw his sister in between classes she was always smiling. Not in the small, sort of sad way she usually smiled; it was much bigger and brighter than that.

He couldn't think of anything in particular that might've caused Nora's unusual happiness. Nothing special had happened. He hadn't heard any odd rumours either. So he decided a little investigating was in order.

Knowing Nora generally spent Thursday afternoon in the library while the twins had Alchemy, Tristan went to her after class under the excuse of needing help with his Charms homework, which was due the next day. Normally she would've given him an earful about being lazy and leaving everything to the last minute. This time she agreed without batting an eye. Very, very suspicious.

"What happened that's made you so cheery?" Tristan asked when she started humming quietly under her breath.

"Nothing," Nora said with a warm smile while she revised his essay. "Can't I be in a good mood for a change?"

"Sure you can, but what's the reason?"

"No reason. I'm happy is all."

Tristan narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I don't believe you."

Her smile turned amused. She studied him for a minute before reaching out and ruffling his curls. He batted her hand away with a grunt, working furiously to fix his just-rolled-out-of-bed locks that actually required quite a bit of effort to put together in the morning.

"You can be very observant sometimes, can't you?"

"That's not an answer," Tristan retaliated. Shaking her head, Nora went back to revising his essay. Fine, he thought with a huff. "Well, whatever it is, I hope it lasts."

And he sincerely meant it. There had been few instances when he had seen his sister genuinely happy. So he was glad. No matter the reason, even if she didn't share it with him.

The next day Tristan and his friends finished Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, then headed off to Charms.

Hermione wrestled with her bag the whole way to the third floor. Offering to carry some of the heavy load, Tristan told her about Nora's suggestion to place an Extendable Charm on their bags as it seemed her number of books had doubled overnight. She seemed excited by the prospect.

Hermione's mind-blowing ability to juggle an absurd amount of schoolwork was yet another mystery to be solved. It took Tristan a while to realise, but some of her elective classes were taught at exactly the same time as the ones she had with them, which made no sense because how could she possibly be in two places at once?

After they had all taken their seats, Professor Flitwick, who stood atop a tall pile of books behind his desk, started the lesson. They were learning the Seize and Pull Charm, a fairly handy spell that produced a magical, retractable cord of light that could be used to pull objects toward the caster.

"Keep in mind," said Flitwick in his squeaky voice, "the weight of whichever object you target will need to be factored in when you cast the charm. For example, if you're targeting a glass vase and you pull too hard, you might end up knocking the vase against your heads. That's why, in order to prevent accidents, we shall be practising on these dummies. Please split into pairs; you will each take turns casting the charm and attempting to pull the dummy toward you. And remember, execute your movements with precision — yes, Mr. Finnigan, I am looking at you. I've had quite enough explosions for this week…"

Desks and chairs were cleared away to make space for several ugly-looking, battered dummies. As everyone scattered around the classroom, Tristan and Hermione settled in a corner not far from Harry and Ron.

Tristan leaned against the wall twirling his wand while Hermione practiced the spell's movements. "Are you ever going to tell me what's going on with you?"

"Nothing's going on," she replied a little too quickly.

"Could you maybe not insult my intelligence? We've been friends for three years, I think I can tell when something's up," Tristan replied with a click of his tongue. When she didn't answer, he sighed defeatedly. "First Nora, now you… why doesn't anyone tell me anything anymore?"

Hermione lowered her wand. "What's the matter with Nora?"

"I'm not sure." He crossed his arms and stared pensively at the ceiling. "She's been acting weird lately… all smiley and happy and stuff. Not saying it's a bad thing, just wish she'd tell me why. I hate secrets."

Pursing her lips, Hermione raised her wand, pointed it at the dummy, and uttered the incantation in a clear voice. At once, a red string of light shot from the tip of her wand and wrapped itself around the dummy's head. With a firm tug of her hand, the dummy swayed forward, sliding a few inches across the floor.

Professor Flitwick was ecstatic. "Great work, Miss Granger! Five well-deserved points for Gryffindor!"

"Nicely done, Granger!" Tristan put his hand up for a high-five. Chuckling, Hermione smacked his hand.

"Listen," she said, fumbling nervously with the golden chain around her neck. "I don't think you need to worry about Nora. She wouldn't keep something important from you. As for me, well... do you trust me?"

"Yeah, of course," he answered without hesitation.

"Then trust I would tell you if I could."

Tristan mulled over it, in the end deciding she was right. "So..." He cocked his head to the side with a smirk. "You do have a secret."

Exasperated, she just rolled her eyes. "C'mon, you give it a go now. You haven't done anything productive yet."

Sighing as though it pained him a great deal to move, he stepped away from the wall. She immediately went about correcting his stance, fixing his grip and guiding him through the casting.

"Remember—" Hermione positioned herself behind the dummy, "Aim for the head."

He raised his wand. "Carpe Retractum!"

The cord of light shot from the tip of his wand with intent, but instead of wrapping itself around the dummy's head like it had for Hermione, the cord went straight past it and hooked around her waist. In a moment of panic, Tristan jerked his wand sideways and she came flying at him with a yelp. The two of them toppled to the floor in a tangled heap.

"I told you to aim for the head!"

"I did do that!"

"Evidently not! Don't move your—"

"Hermione, you're standing on—"

"Sorry!"

Somehow they managed to separate themselves. Tristan was pulling back when Hermione yelped again. A piece of her hair had got caught on his cuff button.

"Wait, you'll hurt yourself like that," he said when she tried to yank it off. "Stay put for a second, will you?"

She sat back on her heels while he scooted closer and worked on freeing her hair. It's really tangled in there, he thought, knitting his eyebrows in deep concentration. It probably didn't help that he had awfully clumsy fingers.

Finally, with a bit more effort, it came loose.

Tristan shook his wrist, grinning proudly. "All done!"

"T-Thanks," Hermione squeaked. She was bright scarlet in the face and couldn't seem to look him in the eye. Professor Flitwick barely finished dismissing class and she was already springing to her feet, gathering her bag and her books in her arms and fleeing the room.

Thoroughly puzzled, Tristan could only sit there.

"What the hell was that?" Ron asked hotly.

Tristan got off the floor and dusted his trousers. "Dunno, she just ran off."

"Not that." Ron, whose ears were very red, took a step into Tristan's personal space. "You were all over her!"

"All over who?" Tristan stared at his friend as though he'd lost his mind. "You mean Hermione? We fell over, that's all. I was only helping out with her hair."

"Seemed a bit more than helping from where I was standing!" Before Tristan could get another word in, Ron stormed off, bumping his shoulder on the way out.

"Hey watch it, Ron!" Tristan snapped after him. Shaking his head, he turned to Harry for help. "What did I do?"

Harry shrugged, apparently just as clueless.

Nora woke up very late that Sunday, much later than she usually did. As she dragged her head from under her pillow, she was momentarily disoriented by bright sunlight slamming her right in the face.

When Ophelia made her way over from the bottom of the bed and nudged her under the chin, Nora petted the cat to her heart's delight, all too happy to lounge around in bed for a few more minutes. Eventually she sat up and stretched her arms with a huge, satisfied smile. She felt incredible. No nightmares the whole night. No pounding headache. No queasy stomach. For once, she was utterly replenished.

The room was empty, but there was a note on her nightstand from Emma saying she would be spending the day with Liam and Julia on the Quidditch field and to meet them later if she felt like it. One quick look at the clock and Nora was shocked to see it was nearly lunchtime already. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd slept past eight.

Something knocked lightly on the window. She rushed over to let a small brown-feathered barn owl in.

"Hello," Nora cooed softly. "What've you got there? Is it for me?"

The owl stretched a tiny leg to reveal a roll of parchment attached to it. She pried the roll off and unraveled it.

If you'd still like to intrude on my work,

I've asked for lunch to be sent to my office at around one.

My books and I will be waiting.

— Remus J. Lupin

Nora brushed his name with her fingertips, feeling excited and nervous all at once. She'd had serious doubts about someone like Professor Lupin wanting to spend time with her, but it turns out he did...

Looking at the clock, her excitement was instantly replaced by a wave of panic. Twelve thirty. She had half an hour to get ready.

Nora whipped to her feet so fast, she spooked the poor owl. Feathers flew everywhere as the frantic bird flapped its wings, and she wasted another five minutes running around the room trying to shoo it out the window before Ophelia decided to make a meal out of it. Afterwards, she took what was possibly the fastest shower in the history of showers, only to get sidetracked again because she had no idea what to wear.

It was fifteen past one when she ran down the stairs to the common room, still tucking her blouse into the high waist of her skirt.

On her way to the door, she passed by a pale-haired girl in an armchair with a magazine opened on her lap, bare feet dangling from the edge.

Nora paused near the spiralling staircase, doubled over slowly. The girl noticed this and looked up with a dreamy smile.

"Hello."

"Hi, Luna." She eyed the girl's bare feet. "Have your shoes gone missing again?"

Luna wiggled her toes. "Oh yes. But it's quite all right. I wasn't planning on going outside anyway."

Nora dragged her fingers through her wet hair and down her face. They both knew Luna's shoes hadn't simply wandered off. Some of the other girls had stollen them from her bedroom and hid them somewhere in the castle. They pulled the same prank last year.

"Do you want me to help you look for them?" Nora offered kindly, despite her whole body shaking with anxiety because she was already late to meet Professor Lupin and if Luna did want help, she would be even more outrageously late.

"Maybe not today." Luna blinked her owlish eyes. "You look like you're on your way somewhere important."

"Oh, err…" Nora felt her cheeks catch fire. "I am, sort of... Are you sure? I mean, it's my job to help you."

"I'm sure. Don't worry."

"Well..." Still debating with herself, Nora turned to leave. "If you're really sure…"

"You look very pretty by the way," Luna called after her, causing Nora to pause again. "Whoever he is, I bet he'll think so too."

Nora's blush spread all the way down her neck. "Thanks, Luna, but let's keep this a secret, okay? Just between us girls."

"Of course," Luna beamed. "Promise."

By the time Nora burst through the Defence Against the Dark Arts office, it was nearly two o'clock. She held herself against the doorway catching her breath, but the room was empty.

"Professor Lupin?" Nora called timidly, venturing further inside. Her stomach dropped when there was no answer. Had he grown tired of waiting?

Just as she was thinking it, a door shimmered to existence on the wall next to the desk and Professor Lupin poked his head out.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd stood me up," he said playfully, stepping fully out. His clothes were much more casual than his typical work attire. Faded slacks hung off his narrow hips and a dark green jumper fitted nicely his wide shoulders, the rich colour making his eyes sparkle.

"Sorry." Nora walked up to him, wriggling her hands. "I woke up right before getting your message."

"That's quite all right, I'm glad you made it." His smile was incredibly bright, she felt the warmth of it down to the very tips of her toes. He motioned with his arm toward the door. "Would you like to come in?"

Curious, Nora stepped into what appeared to be a small living room. A wide window overlooking the Black Lake allowed plenty of natural light in, brightening the place and giving it a pleasant, inviting atmosphere. Two huge bookstands took up most of the side wall. Between the couch and a stone-built fireplace, where fire burned, a coffee table had been set with plates and goblets.

There was one other door, which she imagined led to his sleeping quarters.

Her heart skipped a beat. Thinking about Professor Lupin in his bed left her faintly lightheaded.

"You seem surprised." Bringing a hand to her back, he steered her over to the couch. "You didn't think I lived in my office, did you?"

"Sort of," Nora smiled sheepishly. "I mean, I've never really thought about it before. I guess you wouldn't be very comfortable sleeping at your desk."

He sat beside her on the couch. "I've fallen asleep at my desk a few times so I can vouch for that."

Books were everywhere. Not only were the bookstands stacked full, but plenty more could be found scattered around the room — in small piles on the floor, occupying another vacant armchair, even over the mantelpiece.

With a smile, Nora grabbed a very tattered old copy of David Copperfield from a nearby pile. "You weren't kidding about the books."

"Afraid not. And I have more at home, if you can believe that. It's becoming a bit of a problem. I seem to be running out place to put them." Lupin reached for the goblets, passing her one. Nora took an inconspicuous sniff off it and scrunched her nose. He was quick to notice. "You don't like pumpkin juice."

Although it wasn't a question, she shook her head anyway. He seemed to consider something before reaching over the arm of the couch to grab a bottle of wine off the floor. Her eyes widened.

"I can only let you have a little," Lupin warned. Covering her goblet with his hand, he made the juice disappear, then refilled it with wine. "You've had wine before, haven't you? Otherwise I'd feel terribly guilty."

Nora blurted a laugh at how serious he looked. "Yes, I've had wine before. I might be Head Girl, but I'm not that prudish."

He seemed surprised. "I never thought you were. Did someone call you that?"

"I might've heard it once or twice." She tasted the wine, enjoying the rich oaky notes on her tongue, the familiar burn as the liquid trickled down her throat. "It's fine, though. I know I'm not like other girls my age. My friends have an ongoing joke about me being old-fashioned."

"There's nothing wrong with being old-fashioned. Quite the contrary in my opinion. But I suppose friends are all a bit like that, mine used to make fun of me too."

"Because you're old-fashioned?"

"Among other things," Lupin said with a lazy smile behind his goblet. "Anyway, you must be hungry. We should eat before the food gets cold."

It was Nora's first time sharing a meal with an older man alone. At first she was worried things might be awkward, but as it turns out there was no need to worry. Conversation flowed effortlessly between them while they ate. Midway through, Lupin pointed his wand at a record player sitting in the corner and smooth jazz started playing softly. Naturally that prompted a lively debate about music, during which she was pleased to discover he had as good a taste in music as he did in books. He was cultured, witty and bright — brighter than anyone she had met before. She could spend hours, days, weeks, listening to him without ever getting bored.

Despite his previous warning, he refilled her goblet a second time. Her heels had come off at some point and she had tucked her bare feet under her so she was facing him. He'd shifted toward her too, now the edges of her knees grazed the outside of his thigh, intimately almost, however he didn't seem to mind. Wether it was the wine, the fire, or the way he wouldn't stop looking at her with the flames dancing in the profound green of his eyes, Nora felt hot in places she always believed would forever stay cold, deep in her belly and at the very centre of her chest.

He was so handsome, she thought, although not in a glaring, stops-you-dead-in-your-tracks kind of way. The charm, at least to her, was in the stories his face told, in those weathered scars and rough lines. In his quick smile, so sweet and kind, yet with just enough mischief to make one wonder what else he was hiding beneath the surface.

"Can I ask you something personal?"

Nora blinked, finding it extremely hard to focus on anything other than Lupin's tousled locks and how he kept running his fingers through them. "Yeah, sure," she managed to say.

He hesitated, casting his gaze to the side, then back to her. "When did it start?"

"When did what— oh." She frowned, suddenly grasping what he meant. "Oh, uh... after my mother died, I think…"

"You think?" Lupin pressed gently.

Nora stared at the fire to avoid his intense stare. Her pleasant buzz had lifted slightly, and the room didn't feel quite as warm or cozy as it had a minute ago.

"Most of my early memories are fuzzy," she finally summoned enough courage to say. "I barely remember mum. Sometimes I'm not even sure if I do remember her or if I've conjured an image from the things everyone tells me."

"How old were you?"

"Five."

"Five," Lupin repeated, disbelief and a sort of shocked disgust coating his voice. "You were five years old when your father started abusing you."

"He wasn't always violent," Nora explained. "In the beginning, he mostly pretended Tristan and I didn't exist. Our grandmother took care of us, if you could call it that. The governess saw to our basic needs while she mostly made sure we didn't grow up to become a public embarrassment by not knowing how to behave according to the family standards. It was around the time my Hogwarts letter came that my father realised he couldn't go on ignoring us anymore. It triggered something for him, I think. Memories maybe, I don't know."

The words poured from her like water. Nora couldn't seem to make them stop. She wanted to, but she couldn't. For once, her barriers weren't strong enough to hold it all back, or maybe she just wanted to let someone in — let him in.

"I've always been easier to keep in check than Tristan. You've seen how he is; stubborn, brash, short-tempered… Father drinks a lot, usually to the point of passing out in his study. Sometimes he also drinks too much at a party and if Tristan does something he doesn't like, then he tends to punish him for it once we get home. Me he simply enjoys hurting. I remind him too much of my mother, you see. And since I can't remember much from when she was alive, I'm not really sure whether he hurt her too. If he takes pleasure out of it, or if he's just trying to punish her for something through me."

"I was so relieved to get away from him and that house, but in a way it was also awful because I was here and Tris was still back there. I could only imagine what Father was putting him through. To this day, I still don't know, he's never told me, changes the subject when I ask so I stopped asking. We learned to stay out of the way over the years when we're home. I tend to keep Father's attention from Tristan, though it's not always easy because he really doesn't know when to shut his mouth. I swear that temper's going to get him killed one of these days..."

There was more. Much more. But she couldn't bear to tell Professor Lupin about the rest, about the sickening stench of alcohol on her neck, the rough hands grabbing her to the point of bruising her flesh, her back colliding harshly with the wall and sucking the air right out of her lungs as she tried to fight her father off.

Lupin slid to the edge of the couch and buried his face in his hands. Nora studied his hunched form uncertainly. "Are you okay?"

"Am I…" He shook his head, rubbed his eyes with a shaky breath. "No, Nora, I'm not okay. Why didn't you ever tell anyone about this? Your teachers, or even Professor Dumbledore."

She hugged her knees to her chest. "You don't know my family, they have strong ties to the Ministry and they aren't people you would want to mess with. There's nothing anyone can do. It does't matter now anyway. I'm leaving as soon as I graduate and I'm taking Tris with me. I don't care what I have to do, he's not staying in that house another year."

Lupin reached out to touch her, but he let his arm fall back at the last second. His hand clenched in a fist helplessly. "I admire you, Nora," he said quietly. "Your courage and strength of character, the way you care for your brother... I wish there was something I could do to help you both."

Tears welled in her eyes. She had to blink them away.

Nora put her hand over his tense fist. He gave a little jolt of surprise. Hesitantly, almost uncertainly, his hand opened to hold hers. Neither of them spoke. Nothing could erase the nightmares she'd had to live. There were no words that could fix or make things better, although it brought her comfort that he understood that. For her, his silence spoke loudly what words could never fully express.

For a long time there was only the crackling of fire and the piano still playing in the record player. Lupin sat back with a sigh, sinking deep into his thoughts, staring hard at the ceiling. His thumb brushed softly over her knuckles, making butterflies flutter in her stomach.

"Will you tell me something personal about you?" Nora asked to alleviate the tension. He raised his eyebrows, head turning to her. "Fair is fair, isn't it?"

"I suppose you're right." Smiling tiredly, he squeezed her hand one more time before letting go. "What do you want to know?"

"What's your family like?"

"I've never been very close with my father." Lupin drained what was left of the wine bottle into his goblet. "I know he always did what he thought was best for me, but he could be very strict and distant at times. We're a bit better now we don't see each other as often. Distance really did wonders to our relationship, I guess."

Nora frowned a little. "What about your mother?"

"My mum was wonderful. Very kind and beautiful. We used to spend hours reading in the garden. When it rained, we would sit by the window watching the rain fall and she would recite to me her favourite poems. She loved poetry and literature — a love, as you well know, she passed on to me."

His entire face lit up with sheer adoration when he spoke of his mother, Nora noticed. It endeared him further to her.

"You remind me of her sometimes," he said, only to cringe afterwards. "I didn't mean to compare you to my mother, I only meant you remind me of her in that particular aspect. Christ, that sounded less disturbing in my head…"

Nora chuckled at the awkward way he stumbled with his words. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks faintly pink.

"It wasn't disturbing." She scooted closer to him with a smile. "It was sweet, really. Tell me more about you. Like what's your favourite colour, your favourite tea, your favourite place in the world. Oh, and what does the J in your name stand for?"

Amused, Lupin crossed his foot over his knee and draped his arm over the back of the couch. "All right, let's see… my favourite colour's red, terribly obvious that one. My favourite tea is jasmine, and my favourite place in the world is Hogwarts, always has been. As for my middle name, it's John."

"Remus John Lupin?" His name rolled off her tongue like velvet, and the thrill of having addressed a teacher so informally sent her pulse galloping. "I like it."

The arm behind her head tensed noticeably. He cleared his throat, taking another sip from his goblet, "Your turn, Evanora."

Nora scrunched her nose. "Please don't ever call me that. I have no idea what my mum was thinking when she gave me that name."

"It's certainly unique," Lupin teased.

"Unique, he says," she muttered while boldly snatching the goblet from his hand. He raised his eyebrows, but made no move to stop her from emptying it. "And my middle name's Briar. Can you imagine anything more unflattering?"

"It isn't unflattering at all. I think Evanora Briar sounds very charming."

Nora blushed with delight. "I suppose it doesn't sound so bad when you say it…"

Professor Lupin gave no response other than a low, rumbling laugh that sent heat to her lower belly. It was the most wonderful sound, better than poetry, better than music.

"You owe me three more answers," he pointed out, raking his fingers though his hair looked at her with a kind of breathtaking intensity.

"Right." Nora brought a hand to her throat where her heart seemed to have lodged itself. "Well, I love green, and the tea I like best is probably peppermint. Also, I have not one but two favourite places, Hogwarts and Granny Rose's house — she's Emma and Liam's grandmother. Sometimes they invite me over for Christmas."

Lupin made a contemplative sound. "I don't think Liam likes me very much."

He definitely didn't, but Nora wasn't about to tell Lupin that. "Liam's a complicated character, I wouldn't take it personally. He's very defensive so it's not easy for people to approach him. That's probably why he doesn't have many friends, takes time and effort to push past his defences."

"I see. It's interesting that he's so different from his sister. Given they're twins, one would expect them to be a bit more identical."

"You have no idea," Nora laughed. She had heard people point that out far too many times now not to find it funny. "They're a bit like cat and dog. Emma's the dog in this scenario obviously."

"Somehow that's not hard to picture." He shook his head, laughing too. "How long have you been friends?"

"Since first year. We met Julia later. She's not in your class, though," Nora added more as a second thought to herself.

"I've noticed," Lupin teased good-naturedly. "Professor McGonagall likes to brag about Julia's exceptional skills as a Chaser in the staff room. But don't let her know I told you."

Professor McGonagall was an avid fan of Quidditch, it was common knowledge around the castle. Despite her efforts not to show any favouritism, everyone knew she was dying for Gryffindor to win the cup. Nora suspected that was one of the reasons she let Julia off the hook so often.

"You should come watch the next match," Nora suggested eagerly. "Gryffindor's playing Slytherin. Julia and Harry have been practicing almost everyday. They're incredible, especially Harry, that boy's a wonder on a broom. For someone who had never even heard of Quidditch before Hogwarts, I swear he flies like a professional."

A look of heart-aching sadness flashed over Lupin's face, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if maybe she might've imagined it.

"I'll try to make it." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He shifted forward slightly, vanishing all the empty plates from the coffee table, then stood and walked over to the record player to change the record manually.

For someone so full of warmth, there was a certain kind of lonesome quality to him sometimes. Nora eyed him wistfully, wishing she could wrap her arms around his waist, bury her face in his broad back and chase away the loneliness like he did for her with every smile and every kind touch. When he turned, she looked away quickly, scared that he might be able to read her too easily if he saw her face.

Elvis Costello's deep and mellow voice replaced the slow-paced piano as Lupin made it back to his seat.

"This is a good one," he said, referring to the song. Sitting back, he draped his arm over the back of the couch again. "You said your friends usually invite you over for Christmas. Will you be going this year, or are you thinking of staying?"

"I can stay if you want me to."

He blurted out a surprised laugh, staring at her as though he couldn't believe what he'd heard. "Would you really? Why?"

"I wouldn't want you to be alone for Christmas."

"Now I'll feel awful if you do stay." Lupin shook his head, still sounding and looking incredulous. "It's been a while since I've had anyone to spend Christmas with, but there's no need for you to do that on my account. The other teachers will keep me company."

"Yes, I do see your point. Professor Snape's such good company to have over the holidays," she quipped, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Speaking of Professor Snape, why does he seem to be under the impression that you've ransacked his private pantry?"

"Because I did."

Lupin chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes dancing with mirth. "And why, pray tell, did you?"

"That's top secret," said Nora, flashing a cheeky grin. His laugh echoed loudly in the room.

"Is it now? Maybe I can guess, then. Something to do with brewing clandestine potions for your brother and the usual suspects perhaps?" She remained silent, grin stuck to her face. Lupin laughed again. "You're a box full of surprises, Nora. Here I had you pegged for an exemplary student. Should I worry you might rob me next?"

Nora gave him a hooded look from under her lashes. "Don't know, professor, do you've something I might be inclined to rob?"

Lupin laughed that low, rumbling laugh again.

"You should be careful when asking things like that, darling." He moved his arm from behind her head and reached for a curl near her cheek, twirling it in his finger before tucking it behind her ear. "The answer might not be what you expected to hear."

Nora's heart faltered for the millionth time that day. They held each other's gaze until it seemed like all the oxygen in the room was gone, until she felt like she would melt to pure liquid under the heat of those deep eyes.

When Professor Lupin spoke again, it was to steer the conversation toward much lighter, and safer, topics.

This chapter was maybe written and re-written more times than you can imagine, but I feel like I'm finally happy with it. Let me know what you guys think!