Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline

"He Holds the Moon"

ooo

"You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope."

- Persuasion, Jane Austen

INESCAPABLE

Madam Pomfrey insisted Harry stay the weekend in the hospital wing. So, naturally, Nora ended up spending a lot of time there with Tristan, Ron and Hermione. They mostly played card games and wizard's chess to pass the time while Hermione took the opportunity to catch up on her homework. When Nora offered to give her a hand with it, both Ron and Tristan piggybacked on her generosity and begged for help with a paper on werewolves they were told to write by Snape when he filled in for Defence Against the Dark Arts. This confused Nora quite a bit as she had been proof-reading her brother's essays since first year and the last time she checked there were still quite a few chapters left before his class should start studying werewolves.

Harry didn't talk much. He was in terribly low spirits. Not only did he hate being bedridden, but his Nimbus had landed on the Whomping Willow and the vicious tree had mangled the broom beyond repair. They all did their best to cheer him up, however it wasn't easy and they weren't very successful. Nora had a feeling there was something else besides a destroyed broom weighing on his mind.

Sunday afternoon, she stayed behind after everyone else left. Sitting beside him on the bed, she studied his tense and morose profile as he stared out the window.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Nora asked, smiling when his glazed eyes focused on her face. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

His shoulders gave with a long exhale. "I told you I heard someone screaming the last time the dementors showed up, right? Before I passed out…"

"I remember," she encouraged gently.

"It happened again this time, but… it was different. I could hear what she was saying — my mother. She was begging Voldemort for my life…" Harry gripped the blanket covering his legs in a tight fist, jaw working oddly. "She died because of me. He said he would spare her if she stepped aside and let him have me, but she didn't."

Nora's chest constricted painfully. She closed her eyes, trying to chase away the scattered memories she had of her own mother's haunting screams. She wished she could take from Harry the pain that came with remembering. Sometimes it was best some things were left forgotten.

"It's my fault she's dead," he choked out.

"No, Harry." Nora covered his shaking fist with her hand. "You were only a baby when the Dark Lord tried to kill you. Of course your mother protected you, of course she gave her life for you. That's what you do when you love someone, and your mother loved you more than anything in this world."

Harry lowered his gaze, but not before Nora saw the tears gathered in his eyes. She wanted to hold him, yet was too afraid he would recoil from the gesture at such vulnerable moment. Harry was a lot like her in the way that he hated to be pitied. And like her, he had a tendency to store everything to himself — worries, doubts, fears. She knew all too well how at times it could all become a little too much, a little too lonely.

"Sometimes I wonder if she's watching me," Harry said in a small voice. "If she regrets giving her life for me… I mean, other than being the Boy-Who-Lived, there's really nothing special about me. I'm not a brilliant student like Hermione, or daring and brave like Tristan… I'm not even funny like Ron, am I?"

For a moment, all Nora could do was stare. She couldn't believe her ears. "Harry," she said his name firmly, almost sternly, making him lift his head and look at her. "Listen to me, and listen carefully. You are a great wizard, an amazing friend, and the most wonderful boy. Your mother and father only have reasons to be proud of you. I'm sure they would tell you so every single day if they were here."

Harry's eyes grew misty again, this time he didn't bother covering it up.

Nora tightened her grip on his fingers with a sad smile. "I know it's not quite the same coming from me… but I'm proud of you too, Harry. I really am. So very proud."

He gave a sort of watery laugh, rubbing his right eye with the heel of his hand. "Tristan has no idea how lucky he's got. I wish you could be my sister."

She was deeply moved by that. It was, in her opinion, the ultimate compliment. "Who says I can't? Family doesn't need to share blood, you know. I've thought of you as a little brother since probably the first time we met."

"I remember that day," Harry smiled at the memory. "You showed up outside the Gryffindor common room to scold Tris for going off to fight a troll on his own. When he argued that he didn't do it on his own, you grabbed both me and Ron by ours ears and told us off too."

"Served you right. Going up against a giant troll when you were barely eleven years old… you didn't even know any defensive magic yet. Really, Harry, what were you boys thinking? You could've gotten yourselves killed."

"Yeah, all right, I've heard the lecture once, don't need to hear it again two years later!"

"Cheeky," she chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his perpetually untidy hair. His spirits seemed to have lifted a bit, and was was a real victory.

Not a minute later Madam Pomfrey popped by to discharge Harry, who was more than happy to leave the hospital wing. Nora escorted him to the Gryffindor Tower before going back to her own common room. On the way there, she considered taking a detour to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office to see if Professor Lupin was feeling better, but in the end she was too scared. He'd been avoiding her for reasons that still eluded her. It would break her heart to go there and be sent away.

"He's back! He's back!" Tristan chanted excitedly, jogging down the steep path to Hagrid's hut.

Nora had been giving Hagrid a hand with a newly arrived shipment of streelers for his fourth year class all afternoon. Wiping her sweaty forehead with the back of her wrist, she looked up from where she was crouching in the pumpkin patch just as Tristan reached her.

"Who's back?"

"Lupin, obviously! And guess what!"

Her stomach did a quick, little flip. She did her best to hide her reaction by plucking a streeler that was feasting on the leaves of a massive pumpkin and going to deposit it with the others, away from the vegetables.

"I'm out of guesses," she said offhandedly.

"We don't have to write that horrible paper Snape said we had to," Tristan explained, following Nora around with a spring in his step. "Isn't that neat? Lupin said he would talk to Snape about it and everything. Good thing too because it was two bloody rolls of parchment!"

"I helped you with the first half already, seems like a waste not to hand it over," Nora chastised, though only halfheartedly. "But it was nice of him, I'll admit. Any other teacher wouldn't have bothered, they've got much better things to do than deal with Snape."

"I know, right? I honestly hope he gets the job permanently."

Nora had to smile because Tristan's enthusiasm was so contagious. "You really like him, don't you?"

"Yeah, he's brilliant!"

"Who is?" asked Hagrid as he was coming from behind his hut with a large box in his arms.

"Professor Lupin." Tristan bounced over to the giant, eager to see what was in the box. Hagrid lowered it to his height, letting him poke his head inside. "More snails? How many of them are there?"

"They're streelers, not snails," Nora corrected. "And careful not to touch them with your bare hands, the slime's poisonous."

Tristan bolted upright. He took a step back from Hagrid and the box, shoving his hands in his pockets as though to better keep them safe. Hagrid coughed a rough laugh. In three wide strides, he crossed the distance to the small patch of dirt where the streelers Nora was looking after were now happily resting and released the ones in the box. Half a dozen giant snails glowed brightly, shifting colours like a pretty kaleidoscope.

"Yeh've taken to Lupin then, eh? Doesn't surprise me, couple o' troublemakers like yeh two."

Nora's head whipped around so fast it very nearly snapped. "Professor Lupin? A troublemaker?"

"Oh aye,"Hagrid said, putting away the box and grabbing some dragonskin gloves, a giant pair for himself and a smaller one for Tristan. "He an' his friends used t' turn this castle upside down. Famous fer it, they were. Never met a more rowdy lot myself in all my years here."

Tristan dropped his jaw in the middle of putting his gloves on. "You're joking!"

"Swear on me life. Just ask Professor McGonagall, she could fill a book with stories 'bout them."

"I guess I can see that," Nora mused out loud. It wasn't hard at all to picture a younger Professor Lupin who enjoyed partaking in an occasional bit of mischief. He kept his sly nature skilfully tucked away, but she had seen it come out to play more than once when they were alone — the roguish smile, the witty teasing, the cool air of confidence.

"I suspect Dumbledore made him a Prefect hopin' he'd keep his mates in check," Hagrid continued to say as he lowered to his knees and started working on collecting the poisonous slime produced by the streelers. "No such luck, only managed ter give them another weapon in their favour. They got even worse after that."

"You've never used your Prefect status to help me cause trouble," Tristan said to Nora with a slight hint of resentment.

"Saved you from quite a few detentions with Filch, didn't I?" Nora quipped back without stopping what she was doing.

"You're my sister, aren't you? You're expected to do that."

"As your sister I have an obligation to make sure you behave yourself, not bail you out every time you wreak havoc around school."

"I think you've got that backwards..."

Hagrid coughed another gruff laugh. Smiling under his bushy beard, he asked Tristan to help him feed the streelers. Creatures were always a sure way to distract Tristan, even if those creatures happened to be giant snails that weren't particularly fun or exciting.

Once the streelers had had their fill, they gathered them all back in their boxes so they wouldn't slither off into the woods in the middle of the night. Afterwards, upon Tristan's insistence on introducing Nora to his new hippogriff friend, Hagrid took them to the paddock at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Bronzequill was a sweet, friendly hippogriff who quite obviously fancied Tristan. Every time he stopped paying attention to her, she would peck at his hair and nudge him in the head, demanding affection.

Nora and Tristan stayed until dark, playing around with Bronzequill and trying to cheer up a rather gloomy and depressed Buckbeak. Then, Hagrid invited them for a giant-sized cup of tea.

Hagrid's hut always gave Nora the distinct impression of coziness. Perhaps it was because it was small and crowded with large furniture, or maybe it was the wear and tear of wood from Fangs's teething phase when he was a pup, or the scorch marks from the time Hagrid decided it was a good idea to raise a dragon. Whatever it was, it felt to her like a well-lived home, and she loved places like that. A bit of clutter here and there, some mismatched pieces or knickknacks to suit a person's taste, scratches and a few bumps, small imperfections which to her only added to the charm.

Whatever house she decided to buy after school would be like Hagrid's. Imperfect, yet tailored to her. She had already made up her mind.

Along with their tea, Hagrid served some rock cakes he had baked that morning. Hagrid's rock cakes were always a bit of a dental hazard, but Nora and Tristan never had the heart to turn him down. They sneaked a quick glance at each other behind Hagrid's back and shared a grin. Having had much experience with Hagrid's cooking, they dipped their cakes in their warm tea, softening the rock-like consistency before daring a bite.

All in all, it wasn't a bad afternoon.

For Remus, the past week had been nothing but torture, the truly excruciating kind. To have to see Nora in class or watch her sitting in the Great Hall, or even catching the fleetest glimpse of her in the hallways was gut-wrenching, because he knew he had to keep his distance. It didn't help that Nora was exceptionally frank with her emotions. She couldn't hide a thing, it was all plain to see on her face — the confusion, the sadness, the betrayal... that was perhaps what bothered him the most. He could only imagine what awful thoughts were going through her head after he had gained her trust and told her they were friends only to then pull away so abruptly.

What other option did he have? He never meant for his feelings to run wild. He'd been careless, weak against his own selfish desires. No matter how many times he reminded himself it was wrong, that nothing should or could come of it, he quite simply adored Nora. He woke up every morning eager to see her smile, looked forward to those short moments before class when they could spend time away from everyone, when he could watch her pretty eyes light up with enthusiasm, or see her cheeks flush prettily when he teased her.

Remus couldn't remember thinking of a woman as often or as intensely as he thought of Nora, not even as a young boy. There had been crushes, physical attraction, maybe even some infatuation, but he was always exceedingly cautious about keeping relationships light and casual. There was never room for anything more; there couldn't be. But he was too old for crushes, and his fondness for Nora greatly surpassed whatever momentary attraction he might have experienced in the past. It terrified him to feel so passionately for someone so young. Nora was nearly half his age — a student still, with her whole life ahead of her. A promising life, to which there wasn't a thing he could add. He had no money and his house was quite literally slowly coming apart. His job was a blessing, and yet he wasn't naive enough to believe it would last.

Lest we forget, there was also the irrevocable fact that he was a werewolf, damaged beyond repair because of his condition. It wouldn't be fair to put Nora through his demons and the harsh stigma of society for associating herself with a monster.

"What the devil am I thinking?" Remus asked out loud in his empty office, where he had been correcting first year essays about gnomes for the past two hours. Or trying to, as his mind was proving to be highly uncooperative.

Resting on the left end of his desk, curled in a fluffy ball, Ophelia raised her head and blinked her intelligent mismatched eyes at him.

"I don't even know why I'm worrying about what I could or could not give her," he said, dropping his chin to his hand with a sigh. "Nora certainly wouldn't want anything to do with a shabby man like me. Such a beautiful, clever girl... she can take her pick of the lot. It's not like Hogwarts is short on strapping young men for her to chose from."

Ophelia voiced her opinion with an indignant meow. Remus chuckled, scratching her behind her large ears. It was nice having company, he thought. Cats weren't the sort of familiar he was generally inclined to, however Ophelia had a very sweet disposition and she seemed to enjoy being around him. Some nights she would even sleep at the foot of his bed, though that didn't happen often. He imagined she would much rather sleep with Nora.

He sighed again, "I miss her…"

Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough. By the time he walked into his classroom to teach his seventh year class, Remus was as nervous and excited as a teenager about to see the prettiest girl in school. But as he sat at his desk counting each second while his heart thumped hard in anticipation, it soon became apparent that Nora wouldn't be showing up early that morning.

Serves me right, he thought bitterly. He'd given Nora the cold shoulder, why would she bother coming early just to spend time with him?

Ten minutes later, he had given up waiting. Trying to ignore the disappointment, even though it was like a thorn on his side, he busied himself by reviewing his plans for the lesson, going over his notes, once, twice, raking his fingers though his hair while stealing glances at the door, as though willing it to open with his mind.

The Crowley twins came in first, followed by Andrew Darling. Right behind them, Nora walked in, laughing at something Caito was telling her. Seeing them side by side, Remus thought, not for the first time, that they looked straight out of a black and white picture — Nora with her classic and polished beauty, and Caito with his cool, effortless good-looks. Like Audrey Hepburn and James Dean.

Remus felt a twinge of disappointment. Or perhaps a stab would be more accurate a term, as it sliced right through his ego without an ounce of mercy.

Observing her through stolen glances while collecting all his papers, he saw Nora's gaze linger over him as she took her usual seat beside Emma. The mere prospect that she might be thinking of him, that it might interest her to look at him too, made his heart skip a beat.

"Well then," Remus said, clearing his throat as he made his way to the front of the classroom. "I would like to give you all two minutes to complain about Professor Snape so we can get it out of the way once and for all and move on with our lesson."

There was a brief pause before everyone started speaking at the same time. With an amused smile, he listened to complaints about boring monologues and having to write ten pages on Unforgivable Curses, plus ten more for homework. Precisely two minutes later, he raised his hand to stop them.

"Time's up, I'm afraid. But let me assure you, I've no need for another stack of essays about Unforgivable Curses on my desk. For those of you who have already finished, I will of course accept them, however if you haven't, please don't bother. What I have from last class is at present more than enough."

Several students expressed their relief, including Emma Crowley who pumped her fist in the air with a loud "whoop!", causing the rest of the class to laugh.

He nodded his head at a tooth-grinning Emma, "The enthusiasm is much appreciated, Miss Crowley. Seeing as we're already on the topic, shall we delve into the study of fire curses today? Who can tell me..."

As he paced around the room, Remus grew acutely aware of Nora's gaze on him, following each of his moments, making it harder for him to concentrate. Her eyes were like water, sweeping him under, drowning him deep down into their endless depths. Whenever he walked past her desk and smelled the subtle notes of jasmine of her perfume, he had to physically drag himself to the other side of the room. But before he knew it, there he was again. It was agony to be near, agony to be away.

He returned to his desk after the bell rang. A few students had ended up doing Snape's homework assignment so he worked on organising those given to him while everyone began to file out.

Nora came over, playing with the strap of her bag while anxiety rolled off her in tangible waves. "Are you feeling better?"

"Do I really look so awful that it warrants the question?"

"What? No, of course not," she said in a rush, stepping forward, then thinking twice about it and backtracking, keeping the distance. She chewed on her lip uncertainly. "Actually, you do look a little worse for wear. I wanted to stop by after I heard you were sick, but I didn't want to bother you…"

"You would never bother me, Nora." With a sigh, he stuffed his papers in his briefcase, closed it and sat back, dragging a hand down his tired face. "In all honesty, I'm exhausted. My head's been killing me all weekend, and there's a mountain of work I've yet to see to. I couldn't have picked a more inconvenient time to fall ill."

"I could help you." Nora clenched the strap on her shoulder nervously. He eyed the eager gesture before flickering his eyes back up to her face with surprise. "Professor Flitwick had me doing some tutoring last year when students started falling behind because they were too scared of the Basilisk. Not to brag, but I did rather well. I can handle OWL level quizzes and essays."

"Oh, I do not doubt your skill, Miss Head Girl. Never have." She flushed with the teasing, making Remus chuckle. He quirked his head to the side, considering the offer. "If you're willing, I won't deny that I could use the help. Maybe not today, I don't think I'm in any condition. Tomorrow after dinner?"

Several emotions played out on her face, from discomfort to embarrassment. "I can't tomorrow. I've got detention all week."

He raised his eyebrows. "Do my ears deceive me or did you just say you have detention?"

"Yes, with Professor Snape," she said grimly.

"Why?" Remus asked, laughing out loud and raising his hands when she fixed him with a withering look. "Forgive me, but even you have to admit it's funny. Have you ever had to serve detention before?"

Nora tilted her chin with an attitude he found adorable. "If you must know, no, I haven't. Seven years of impeccable student record gone down the drain. You can't imagine the amount of goading I've had to endure so far. He failed last year because he didn't have enough proof to condemn me, but this time he finally got it."

"And what did he get?" Remus stood from his chair and made his way around the table so it didn't stand between them anymore. He leaned against it, hands tucked in his pockets. "Why exactly did Professor Snape give you detention?"

"Doesn't matter."

Her evasive answer made him frown. "Was it because of me? Did he say something to you?"

"Like I said, it doesn't matter," Nora repeated, refusing to meet his gaze. "Anyway, I should go. I'm plenty late for Herbology as it is."

"Wait—" He moved before she could leave, grabbing her by the elbow a little too hard. She ended up spinning straight into his chest and his other hand found the arch of her back to steady her. He had held her like this once, that day in the Forbidden Forest, but she felt smaller than he remembered, more delicate, so soft and warm in his arms.

Out of their own accord, his fingers dipped lower, down the curve of her waist. The urge to pull her even closer, hug her tighter to him came like a stroke of lightening, making his nerves tingle. Like she was experiencing the same feelings, Nora parted her lips to let out her heavy breathing. He looked at her lush mouth, pictured in his mind what it would be like if he lowered his head right now and claimed it. If he surrendered to the longing and desire burning in his veins and dragged her down with him until they could taste nothing but each other on their tongues.

"Professor?" Nora's voice yanked him back to reality. He realised that his grip on her had tightened and let go instantly, ashamed of his own actions and thoughts.

"I'm sorry." Remus drew a shaky breath, flexing his fingers to shake off the feeling of her, the ache to touch her again. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

"That's all right." She tucked a curl behind her ear, looking up at him from under long, thick lashes, shy and uncertain. "I was worried you might be cross with me, if maybe I'd done something wrong."

A humourless laugh erupted from his mouth. "No, Nora, I'm not cross. And you... you're wonderful, trust me."

"I'm glad," she said, sounding soft and earnest. When she brought a hand to his arm, he thought his heart might explode right out of his chest. "Friday's my last detention. Can I come over Saturday? We could have lunch together like last time and I could help you with your work."

He couldn't think with her so close, staring at him with those sea-goddess eyes of hers. Jasmine notes, that smell that was distinctively hers, clouded his mind like mist, sweet and subtle, instilling in him a mix of shame and furious want. He stopped breathing altogether, yet it was too late; her spell had already weaved its web.

Like in a trance, he nodded. Nora, with a smile as bright as the sun, squeezed his arm lightly, lingering there with her hand for a second that was far too long not to mean something.

Remus felt his whole body deflate when she left, tired and heavy, but at the same time alive with a sort of thrill that worried him. Frustrated, he pinched the bridge of his nose, beating himself up for his deplorable lack of willpower.

After the game, Tristan felt like he saw Luna everywhere. At the Ravenclaw table with her nose stuck in her weird magazine. In the courtyard leaning over the stone railing while staring off into the distance or down at the lake. Once, he even passed by her on his way to Charms when she was curled up in a window seat watching the rain fall. In all these instances, every single one of them, he had wanted to walk up and talk to her, but always lost his nerve at the last second.

You're a bloody Gryffindor for Merlin's sake, he would tell himself, but it was no use. There was just something nerve-racking about approaching a girl who was always lost in her own little world.

Tristan saw her again over lunch on Wednesday. Wearing the same uniform as every other student in school, Luna still managed to stand out from the masses, like a flicker of shimmering starlight. Long pale hair swept over the shoulder, she played with the curly tips as she pushed around the food on her plate, evidently too distracted with her reading to eat. No one was sitting with her. In fact, he couldn't remember ever seeing her with friends. She was always alone.

A hand suddenly blocked his view.

"Tris, are you listening to me? What're you looking at?"

"Nothing," he said quickly before Hermione turned in her seat to search for his source of distraction. "What were you saying? Something about planets?"

Hermione eyed him sort of exasperatedly. "I was saying we should get started on our birth charts for Divination this afternoon, seeing as we don't have any more classes."

"And why should we do that?" Tristan lifted his goblet for a sip, keeping watch over the Ravenclaw table from the corner of his eye. "Divination's a waste of time."

"Well yes," she agreed, looking a little sad about admitting that any class could be a waste of time. "It's still a class, though. I'd like to pass with flying colours."

"Wouldn't hurt you to slack off a bit sometimes."

"It's like you don't know who you're talking to," Ron quipped in between mouthfuls of kidney pie.

"I've already got mine started—" Tristan and Ron elbowed each other, silently making fun of her. Hermione ignored them. "If we go to the library afterwards, I can get it finished and give you a hand with yours."

Tristan raised his eyebrows at that. "You're feeling generous today."

"Yeah," said Harry, who was sitting next to her. "Not two days ago you refused to help us with our History of Magic homework."

"Because you wanted to copy off mine," Hermione explained matter-of-factly. "I'm offering hand, not a handout. We'd be doing the work together…"

Tristan stopped listening when he noticed a certain pale-haired girl slipping out of the Great Hall. Hastily, he wolfed down the rest of his food, pushed away his empty plate, grabbed his bag.

"Sounds grand," he told his friends distractedly as he was springing to his feet. "I'll meet up with you guys at the library later!"

Luna was halfway down the path to the boathouse by the time Tristan caught up to her. Not entirely sure why she was straying so far from the castle, he trailed behind her at a safe distance while pondering how to go about approaching her without coming off as weird. About five minutes later, he realised it was probably weird enough that he was following a girl who wasn't even his friend.

Feeling like a total creep, he whirled around on his heels.

"If you're going to chase me, you should at least have the decency to see it through."

He'd been caught redhanded.

Rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile, Tristan made his way over to Luna, who, much to his relief, looked curious rather than angry. A sneaky sunbeam was filtering through the clouds, making her hair glow like a silvery halo around her face.

"Sorry," Tristan chuckled nervously. "Dunno why I did that. I don't normally chase people around…"

"I hope not, some might not think it very nice," she said in a tone of utter seriousness.

He blurted out another nervous chuckle. "You're probably right about that."

Luna tilted her head, studying him for an awfully long time. Finally, she blinked like an owl and gestured for him to follow her. "Come, let me show you something."

They ended up going all the way to the boathouse. She led him around the building and down a small valley dipping toward the lake. The foliage around the shore was dewy from the spray of water, the air thick with woodsy smells, of moist earth and pine needles. He followed her over a large dead log, could've died of embarrassment when he nearly face-planted because his foot slipped on some moss.

At a distance not too far off from the water, Luna dropped to her knees and began clawing at the damp earth.

Tristan furrowed his eyebrows. "What're you doing?"

"You'll see," she replied cryptically without faltering in her digging. A minute later she was moving aside to reveal a large egg.

"Woah!" His eyes went wide with wonder as he dropped to his knees beside Luna to have a closer look. It was about the size of a bowling ball, green in colour, with a golden tint all around. "It's a kelpie egg!"

"I tripped over it a while ago," Luna explained. "The kelpie mama must've been interrupted when she was laying and didn't have time to hide it, so I buried it here. I've been checking on it every day."

Tristan placed a hand on the egg, feeling its rugged leathery shell and the warmth emanating from underneath. "It's nearly ready to hatch. Two more weeks or so, I'd say."

"How can you tell?"

He jerked his shoulders. "I just do."

Luna sat back on her heels to watch him as he worked on burying the egg again. "So it's true, then? You can really speak to creatures."

Tristan shot her a cheeky smile while patting the dirt off his hands. "They mostly speak to me."

"You're an Animus." She sounded genuinely impressed. "They're extremely rare. It's passed on through bloodlines. Is Nora one?"

"I guess so, but she doesn't hear them quite as clearly as I do. She says it's more like an awareness, like she can sense what they're feeling or what they want," Tristan explained, watching Luna curiously. "Animus, is it? I'd never heard that before. Where did you find it?"

"Dad's read to me about them. There's a bit of speculation whether Animus wizards and Anima witches are real or not." Luna looked a little annoyed right then. "Hard to prove one can talk to those who can't talk back, isn't it?"

"Just because something can't be proved doesn't mean it isn't real."

She beamed brightly, "I think so too!"

Her pretty smile made Tristan's heart stutter. Trying to keep it cool, he rose to his feet and offered to help her up. Her hand was much smaller than his, much colder too, like an icicle.

He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "Are you cold?" Luna shook her head. "You sure? Your fingers are freezing, I'm surprised you haven't lost any of them yet."

When he brought both of her hands close to his mouth and blew hot air over her icy fingers, Luna's silver eyes flittered over his face like two starry diamonds.

"Feels nice," she said after a while.

Tristan smiled from behind their hands as he continued to warm them with his breath. "Nora used to do this for me when I was little. She said our mum did it for her."

"How old were you?" Luna asked, not cautiously or with pity, only plainly, like someone asking about the weather. He liked that she did that.

"Nora was five, I was one. You?"

"Nine." A tiny crease appeared in Luna's forehead, between her eyebrows. "Do you think the kelpie momma's waiting for her baby in the lake? Or do you think she's forgotten all about him?"

"She couldn't have, right? I mean, it's her baby — no matter where she is or how long it's been, there's no way she'd forget him…"

Tristan felt a sudden, unexpected lump of emotion lodge itself in his throat. Swallowing dryly, he let Luna's hands fall to her sides, stuffed his in his pockets, and stepped back so he was facing the Black Lake. He heard the rustling of dirt and branches under her light feet when she came to stand next to him. Her expression was hauntingly serene, her snowy hair fluttering in the cool wind.

"I hope my mum remembers me." Luna's voice came out quiet, barely more than a whisper. "Wherever she is… whether she's watching over me or not… I hope she thinks of me."

"I'm sure she does," Tristan said in the same quiet manner. "Maybe she's with my mum and they're really good friends. Maybe they sit around in heaven laughing and talking about us."

Luna turned her head slightly toward him. "That's a wonderful thought."

"Yeah..." He heaved a sad sigh, watching the spread of dark and still waters. "Do you believe in that stuff? Heaven, I mean. Do you believe it's really out there?"

"I'm not sure, but I like to think good people have a nice place waiting for them after they leave this world. Don't you?"

He smiled softly. No one had ever talked to him about death so openly before. Most people found it very uncomfortable, including his friends, and with Nora it was his own choice to avoid the topic as he knew it brought up a lot of sadness for her. It was nice to find someone so matter-of-fact about life.

Tristan cleared his throat, nudging his head toward the large dead log, "Wanna stay a bit? I'll walk you back to your common room later."

Luna considered him for a long moment before agreeing. Feeling strangely giddy that she'd said yes, he sat next to her and prayed he wouldn't make fool of himself in front of someone he really, really wanted as a friend.

Okay, guys, so the kelpie egg and everything related to it is of my own creation, there isn't much information about kelpie reproduction. And also the terms Animus and Anima are also my creations. It kind of made sense to me that Luna would know a little about Tristan and Nora's ability to talk to creatures since she enjoys all things different and unique.

I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! As usual, let me know your thoughts!