Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline

"He Holds the Moon"

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"Most of all she loved that when she hugged him her head would rest neatly just below his chin,

where she could feel his breath lightly blowing her hair and tickling her head."

- P.S. I Love You, Cecilia Ahern

DUELLING CLUB

"You're meeting him tomorrow?" Julia asked with barely contained enthusiasm as she and Nora sat on the stands in the Quidditch field before morning practice. It was the only time they could talk without the twins around. Liam and Emma might be strikingly different from each other, but they both shared a common aversion to waking up early.

Nora nodded, rubbing her gloved hands to create warmth. The chilly weather persisted even though the haze of rain had slowed down over night and the sky was partially cleared. Streaks of rich purple and tangerine-tinted pink were painted between scattered clouds as the sun began to rise above the mountains in the horizon.

"Well then," Julia said, leaning back with her elbows on the stand behind her, eyes set on the beautiful spectacle of colours. "Seems to me like it's the perfect chance for you to make a move. Told you, didn't I? He's clearly interested. It's why he's been avoiding you — he's trying to fight it."

As unbelievable as it sounded, Nora was starting to agree with Julia. When Lupin grabbed her that day after class, the way he'd looked at her, the way his warm fingers had lingered on her waist before roughly pulling away… there had been something in the air, something hot and heavy. She didn't think it was all in her head anymore.

"Even if you're right, what am I supposed to do?"

"Personally, I think you should just walk up to him and give him a good snog. Y'know, like you did with Caito."

Nora shot her friend a scandalised look. "I was drunk when I kissed Caito!"

Julia wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Got a bottle of firewhiskey in my drawer you can have a swing from before your steamy date. Bit of liquid courage never hurt anyone."

"Oh my god!" Nora shoved Julia with a laugh. "If you don't have any good advice to give, what's the point of dragging me all the way out here at the crack of dawn? It's bloody freezing!"

"Oi, you listen here, miss Lolita — this relationship needs to be a two-way street. I provide you with appropriate romantic guidance and you come to show me your unconditional support while I deal with Oliver and his manic tendencies."

"Jules, don't call me that." Nora blew an exasperated breath of air. "Speaking of manic tendencies, here comes your fanatic captain…"

Mounted on his shiny broom, Oliver Wood took off from the changing rooms with the rest of his teammates, soaring through the air toward the stands where Julia and Nora were seated. Oliver was a tall, burly boy with dark blonde hair. Of all four Quidditch Captains, he was probably the most intense about the sport. At least in Nora's opinion.

"Third time this week, Cavanaugh." Oliver narrowed his eyes at her. "Hoping to nick our team's secrets for your mate Dearborn, are you?"

Nora brought a hand to her chest. "I would never!"

His eyes narrowed even further, to tiny slits full of suspicion.

"Don't be rude, Oliver," said Fred with a cheeky grin. "You don't want to scare off our lovely audience, do you?"

"Yeah, Oliver," George joined in, flashing an identical grin. "Can't you tell Nora's obviously here to see us?"

"I am?" Nora raised her eyebrows. "And here I was thinking I'd come to see Harry."

Behind Oliver and the twins, practicing pirouettes with one of the school's old brooms, Harry went as red as his Quidditch robes and nearly toppled off the handle.

"All right! Enough chitchatting!" Oliver barked like a general commanding his troops. "Jules, get on that broomstick and onto this field, we're losing precious time!"

Julia sent Nora a meaningful look, mouthing the word "manic" with great dramatic effect while mounting her broom.

Nora, not particularly interested in watching Quidditch practice, pulled out her book to pass the time. She gave up after reading the same sentence ten times. It was no use when she couldn't stop thinking about Professor Lupin. Her entire body flushed with memories of the last time they had lunch together, of sitting so close to him, touching his warm hand, staring into his profound eyes with the flames reflected in them, eyes that made her weak in the knees.

Maybe a sip of Julia's firewhiskey bottle wasn't such a bad idea...

No, Nora thought sadly. Even with alcohol in her system, she doubted she would be brave enough to express her feelings to Lupin. It had been different with Caito. When she dared to kiss him, it was because she feared never knowing what it was like to be kissed, to feel the lips of another upon her own, fingers in her hair that wanted to caress and stroke, not hurt.

In the end it wasn't at all what she had pictured. Not that Caito wasn't a perfectly nice kisser, because he was. But she experienced no head-rush of passion, no butterflies in her stomach or fireworks in the background. It was clumsy, wet, frantic, and he had touched her in a manner that felt like she was his to touch, like he was entitled to. Everything, all of it, had simply felt wrong. So much so she hadn't wanted to do it again. In her mind, if she had felt that way with Caito, who was her best friend and the person everyone thought would suit her best, naturally that could only mean there was something wrong with her.

With a wistful sigh, Nora imagined what it would be like to kiss Professor Lupin. If she closed her eyes, she could almost picture it. Gentle hands on her face, fingers sweeping over her cheek, his nose grazing her nose, his mouth softly ghosting over her mouth, the warmth of his breath...

"NORA, WATCH OUT!"

George's loud warning shattered the lovely mental image before it could even begin to take form. She barely ducked out of the way in time before a bludger whistled past her head. Wide-eyed, she sat up clutching at her chest.

"Sorry!" George called out again.

Nora decided that nearly getting bludgeoned in the head was most likely a sign to stop fantasising about kissing her teacher.

Later that day, an excited buzzing seemed to take over the seventh years. Everyone was eager for the first meeting of the duelling club seeing as last year had turned out a complete fiasco under Professor Lockhart's tutorship. They hardly had the chance to practice offensive and defensive spell-casting because the man was more preoccupied with showing off his alleged duelling skills rather than teaching. It was one of the reasons Emma had suggested Professor Lupin restart it, and Nora commended her for the brilliant idea. No better way to prepare for the exams than to have some hands-on practice.

Unlike Lockhart who had insisted on hosting the club in the Great Hall, like some grand ceremony, Professor Lupin settled for a more private location. When it was time, Nora and the twins made their way to the old duelling chamber in the dungeons. There was very little furniture in the room, only an old desk and a couple of cupboards. The dark walls were scorched and scratched from jinxes and curses gone awry during previous battles.

Several students were already inside, but the excited murmuring faded quickly as Professor Lupin came to stand at the centre of the chamber. In the dim light, his face looked paler, his scars more pronounced. Nora eyed him with worry; he really hadn't lied about being exhausted.

"Now that we are all here," he started, twirling idly with his wand, "I would like to remind you that this is a friendly club with educational purposes and as such there will be no harmful spell-casting or any other form of violence. Is that understood?"

Everyone nodded their heads solemnly.

"Excellent. Now, for this initial meeting you will split into random pairs and I will go around the room observing each of you in order to determine your individual skill level. In the next meetings, I shall do my best to group you within the same level to practice. But first, I believe a brief duel is the best way to remind everyone of the rules, wouldn't you say? Any volunteers?"

No one stepped forward, and for an uncomfortable amount of time they all looked at each other without saying anything. Professor Lupin watched with an amused smile, waiting patiently.

"Ah, there we go," he said brightly when Emma stuck her hand in the air. "If you could step forward, Miss Crowley."

"Oh no, I don't want to go first." Emma waved her hands frantically in front of her. "I was actually going to suggest Nora and Caito, sir. They were sort of the stars last year, they put on quite a show."

Nora stared at her friend in shocked betrayal. Further down the chamber, standing next to Caito, Andrew gave a loud whoop that had her all the more mortified.

"Is that so?" Lupin's eyes flickered from her to Caito. "Very well. Miss Cavanaugh, Mr. Dearborn — the stage is yours. Everyone else, please stand aside."

"I hate you," Nora whispered to Emma while taking off her cloak and handing it to Liam, who was busy shooting daggers at Caito.

"No, you don't," Emma replied good-naturedly.

Nora made her way over to the edge of the wide space left in the middle of the chamber by her fellow classmates as they stood against the walls. On the opposite side, Caito was doing the same. He'd taken his cloak off too, as well as his jumper. His bronze and blue stripped tie hung loosely around the collar of his shirt.

He flashed a dashing smile and dipped into an exaggerated bow that made several girls start giggling. Nora rolled her eyes, hardly impressed.

"I'm not going easy on you this time," she said, raising her wand. A few uhh's and ohh's were heard.

Caito's smile widened as he lifted his wand. "Wasn't counting on it."

Somewhere to the side, Professor Lupin started counting down. He barely uttered "one" before strings of light fired through the air.

They fought without a word at first, shields coming up to fend off nonverbal attacks while they danced around the room. Nora was used to Caito's style of duelling. He was swift and practical, often favouring uncomplicated spells so he could cast without stopping. But he also knew her style and that made them evenly matched.

"Baubillius!"

She sidestepped a bolt of white light. "Is that the best you can do?"

"I'm just getting started!"

Another bolt came at her and she repelled it with practiced ease.

Duelling was all about predicting the opponent's moves, sort of like dancing. There were a few basic spells everyone always reverted to. However, in order to get the upper hand and win, it was imperative to catch the other by surprise. Creativity, in Nora's opinion, was key.

"Incendio!" Caito shouted and at once a jet of flames fired from his wand. That surprised her; she wasn't expecting a fire spell indoors.

Nora extinguished the jet of flames with a blast of ice-cold air. Before he could even think of retaliating, she slammed him with a Stickfast Hex. His eyes widened as he went to take a step and found himself falling face first to the floor because his shoes were glued down. His wand flew off, landing right into her hand.

The whole class erupted with laughter. Caito rose on his elbows, sending Nora, who was feeling quite pleased with herself, a disgruntled look.

"I do believe that makes Miss Cavanaugh the winner," said Professor Lupin with a small smile, approaching her and giving her shoulder a squeeze that made her heart skip a beat. "Well done, Nora."

Everyone quickly started to disperse to find a partner. Meanwhile Nora went to undo her hex on Caito and give him back his wand.

"Hope I didn't bruise your ego too badly," she teased him.

"Ah ah, very funny," he quipped while brushing dust off his pants. "Nice touch — the Stickfast Hex. Never would've crossed my mind to use it in a duel, but then again, you always were creative. Did you really take it easy on me last year?"

She smiled innocently, "You'll never know."

"Merlin, you're devious," Caito shook his head, laughing. "So what do you say? Shall we have another go at it?"

Before Nora could answer, Professor Lupin, who had come up behind her, interjected, "Actually, Mr. Dearborn, one show was quite enough for today. I still need to see you work with other people if I'm to evaluate your skills properly. Perhaps with Mr. Flint? I don't believe I've seen the two of you work together yet."

Caito's easy-going smile slipped from his face. He squared his shoulders, looking briefly toward the bucktoothed Slytherin captain, then eyeing Lupin with mounting dislike.

Hand on the small of her back, Lupin steered Nora toward the opposite side of the room. "Why don't you join Percy for now, Nora? If anyone's capable of managing his headstrong personality, I'm confident it's you."

"Do I have to?" she asked only half-joking.

"Afraid so," Lupin chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked down at her warmly. "I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Unless you've changed your mind about helping me?"

"I'll be there," she said in a rush.

Still smiling, Lupin shook his head like he couldn't quite believe her enthusiasm over spending time with him. "Go on, don't keep Percy waiting."

With great reluctance, Nora made her way to an anxious Percy.

"I've a question for you."

Hermione's timid tone of voice piqued Tristan's interest enough that he looked up from the magazine Luna had kindly borrowed to him the other day. It was very late. Harry and Ron had gone to bed already so they were by themselves in the common room, Tristan sitting on one end of the couch by the fire and Hermione on the other, thick book open on her lap and legs stretched in front of her, feet covered with fuzzy socks touching the outside of his thigh.

"You've spent some time with Professor Lupin, haven't you?" Hermione continued once she had his attention. "Did you, err…" She hesitated, biting down on her thumb. "Did you ever get a feeling like he was… not quite what he seems?"

Tristan tilted his head with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"Oh never mind, forget it." When she tried to stick her nose back in her book, he reached out and snatched it from her. "Give that back, Tris! You're going to make me lose my page!"

"Then spit it out," Tristan snapped, hooking a finger over the book to mark her place anyway. "What about Professor Lupin?"

"It's nothing, I shouldn't've said anything in the first place."

"You did, though, didn't you? So out with it!"

Hermione pursed her lips tightly. With her wild hair tamed into a messy bun on top of her head, she bore an uncanny resemblance to McGonagall. Even wearing her girly pink pyjamas.

"It's only a theory," she said nervously. "I'm not sure about anything yet, and I didn't want to tell you because I know you like him. I know he's been really good to you and Nora. Besides, he's such a great teacher, I doubt Professor Dumbledore would've hired him if he wasn't trustworthy—"

"Hermione," Tristan cut in impatiently. "I will toss this blasted encyclopaedia in the fire if you don't start making sense in the next two seconds."

"I think he might be a werewolf!" she blurted out in one single breath, eyes pressed shut, like someone does when ripping out a splinter.

The book slipped out of Tristan's hands. "What? No — no, he can't be…"

Hermione went a little frantic upon his reaction, scrambling with her words. "L-like I said, I'm not sure! I thought it was odd that Snape was so insistent about teaching us about werewolves even though we were only supposed to start that unit next term, but I assumed it was because he wanted to cause trouble for Professor Lupin. Everyone knows Snape's not very pleased with him. But a few things caught my attention when I was writing the essay, about the heavy toll it takes on a person to transform into a werewolf — headaches, fatigue, moodiness…"

"Yeah, Lupin was like a zombie last week," Tristan muttered, mind already working furiously. Moody and pale too, he thought.

"That's not all." Hermione grabbed her book, pulled out from in between the pages a sheet of paper with a calendar on it. She pointed to the 5th of November — last Friday. "See right there? It was a full moon."

Tristan stared at the perfect circle. It was barely enough to build a case, although it seemed too much of a coincidence now that Hermione had pointed it out to him. What was he to do with this newfound knowledge? Werewolves were believed to be dangerous, uncontrollable beasts, both on the night of the full moon and in human form. They were shunned by society, feared by most wizards and witches — the stuff of nightmares.

It seemed like a lot of nonsense now that he had met Professor Lupin, who was always very nice and kind to everyone in the castle. And yet he was ashamed to admit that it did make him a little worried.

"Do you think Nora knows?"

Hermione shrugged, "Should we tell her?"

"No!" Tristan said so quickly that she startled. Sighing, he began twisting the magazine on his lap into a tight roll. "I don't think it'd bother her. Actually, I know for a fact it wouldn't, that's not the sort of person she is. But it's not like we've any concrete proof. I mean, he might not be a werewolf, it might all be coincidence or something…"

"Right," Hermione conceded despite doubtful. "We'll have to wait for the next full moon to be sure. In the meantime we should probably hold on mentioning this to Harry and Ron."

"Yeah, Harry's got enough on his plate with Black being after him anyway. And if Ron loses his head over some dodgy death omen, I can't imagine he'll react much better about having a werewolf for a teacher."

Hermione made a noncommittal hum, laser-sharp eyes set on his face. "What about you? How do you feel about it?"

"Honestly? Haven't the foggiest." Tristan let his head roll back, staring at the wooden beams on the ceiling. "Always a catch with Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. Maybe the job is cursed…"

The crackling of wood in the hearth and the sputtering of the flames filled the quiet common room while they were both lost in their own thoughts.

Tristan felt Hermione move on the couch so she was next to him, feet tucked underneath her. He looked at her curiously.

"What's that you were reading earlier?"

Knowing she wanted to distract him, he grabbed his magazine to show her. Unlike Tristan, who found all things out of the box interesting and fascinating, The Quibbler wasn't exactly Hermione's cup of tea as it was mostly composed by articles about imaginary creatures and conspiracy theories. His enthusiasm, however, quickly caught up to her and they spent another hour laughing and having fun with some of the articles and quizzes before going to bed.

Sleep didn't come easy to Tristan that night. He tossed and turned, thinking about his conversation with Hermione. It was almost morning when his eyes finally closed, but even then his sleep was restless, plagued with nightmares of wolves howling at the moon and Professor Lupin in the form of a giant beast attacking his sister.

It was during one of those that Tristan was violently woken up. Heart hammering in his chest, he bolted upright in bed swinging his arms at the figure who'd been hovering over him. He nearly ended up clocking Ron in the nose.

"Bloody hell!" Ron stepped back, eyes wide and hands out to try and calm Tristan down. "It's just me."

Still breathing hard but a little embarrassed, Tristan grumbled an awkward apology.

Ron was looking at him closely. "You were shouting in your sleep. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Tristan grumbled awkwardly again.

His covers were all in a tangled heap at the bottom of his bed. He flung his legs over the edge and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants before dragging them through his bedraggled hair. Once the bathroom door opened, letting out a cloud of steam, he brushed past a still sleepy-eyed Neville and locked himself inside.

Both Harry and Ron were smart enough to leave Tristan alone on the way to the Great Hall. He was in the foulest mood ever. Hermione eyed him worriedly as she sat next to him on the bench. He could tell she looked almost as tired as he felt.

"Were you two up all night again?" Ron glanced between Tristan and Hermione. "Doing what?"

"Astronomy homework. Well, I was anyway," Hermione added, pouring some porridge in her bowl.

"Today's Saturday," Ron bristled.

"Your point being?"

Tristan ignored his friends' routine bickering and tried to scan the Great Hall. Emma and Liam were sitting at the Ravenclaw table with Julia, but he saw no sign of his sister. When a knot formed in his stomach, he pushed away his half-eaten toast. There's no proof, he told himself firmly. Lupin might be a werewolf, but also might not. He didn't think it made sense to tell Nora about it until he and Hermione had something concrete.

That unsettling worry persisted nonetheless. He blamed it on his overactive imagination for cooking up such awful nightmares.

Tristan waited around for Nora while his friends finished breakfast. When there was still no sign of her, he checked with Liam and Emma, who told him Nora had returned very late from detention with Snape last night and they decided to let her sleep in. Next thing he knew, he was sitting outside Ravenclaw Tower waiting for her to show up, feeling silly yet at the same knowing his worries wouldn't settle if he didn't check on her himself.

It was only about an hour later that Nora finally walked out. She looked, in his opinion, exceptionally pretty in her red knitted dress. With her hair curling around her face and down her shoulders, she looked just like their mother. At least from the few pictures he'd seen.

Nora stopped dead in her tracks even as he was scrambling to his feet. "Tris? What're you doing here? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine." Tristan chewed on the inside of his cheek. He felt sillier than ever now that she was standing in front of him. "Can we do something? Go outside or visit Hagrid, I dunno."

"Oh." She knitted her eyebrows, reaching out to toy with the ends of her hair. "I'm actually supposed to be helping out Professor Lupin today."

The knot in Tristan's stomach wound itself tighter. "Can I come?"

Nora eyed him oddly, "You want to spend a Saturday afternoon cooped up inside while Lupin and I grade essays?"

"Yeah, sure," he shrugged in a way he hoped seemed nonchalant.

"Okay…" she drawled, continuing to eye him with suspicion. "Well, I don't mind. I'm sure he doesn't either, but we'll have to ask him when we get there. Are you sure you're fine? You don't usually spend school weekends with me."

"Are you implying I'm a bad brother?"

Nora answered with a laugh, shaking her head as they set off to the third floor. There was no one inside Lupin's office, though that didn't seem to deter her. She strode in confidently, knocked on the wall next to the large desk, then stood back.

A door appeared moments later.

"Come in!" Professor Lupin called from the other side.

"How many times have you been here?" Tristan asked in a hushed whisper. Nora raised her eyebrows at him.

"Not many, not that it's any of your concern." She opened the door and stuck her head inside. "Professor? I brought Tristan with me, do you mind having him over? He'll behave himself, I promise."

Tristan pulled a face — what was that supposed to mean?

All he heard back was Professor Lupin's familiar laugh rumbling warmly as Nora ushered him in. The room behind the door wasn't very big, although its coziness more than made up for the size. Lupin was seated on the carpeted floor, back against the couch, lanky legs stretched out under a coffee table which was cluttered with books, stacks of papers and several rolls of parchment. His friendly face was still a bit pale, his light brown hair a mess from his fingers.

"You're welcome to stay, Tristan," Lupin said with a tired albeit nice smile. "But I'm afraid you'll be terribly bored."

Tristan shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets and balancing his weight from one foot to the other while Nora took a seat beside Lupin on the floor and grabbed a stack of papers. After a moment's hesitation, he sat awkwardly on the far corner of the couch and tried to examine the scars on Lupin's face and on the side of his neck, seeing them now in a new light. More and more, he was convinced that Hermione was right.

Sensing his stare, Lupin turned to give him another nice smile. Tristan was instantly struck by guilt. Great, now he felt awful about doubting a man who was always so kind to him.

"Do you want something to drink?" Lupin offered, already reaching for the kettle on the coffee table. "I'm having food brought up from the kitchens later, but I can manage some tea."

"Sure." Tristan relaxed his tense shoulders and scooted back so he was comfortably seated on the couch.

With a wave of Lupin's wand, two mugs came flying from inside a cupboard. He poured the tea, handed one steaming mug to Tristan, who blew some air on it to cool it off, and the other to Nora. She took a small sip, set it aside, went back to the essay she was correcting.

"I saw a kelpie egg the other day," Tristan said to make conversation. They both turned to him with similar surprised expressions. "A friend showed it to me. It was buried by the lake. Have you ever seen one?"

"I have, yes." Lupin shifted partially, bending one leg at the knee. "A long time ago. My friends and I tripped over one when I was maybe around your age. Of course we had no idea what it was at the time. James was adamant it was a dragon egg, no matter how many times I told him there weren't any dragons in the Forbidden Forest. Eventually we took the egg to Professor Kettleburn to settle the matter and he gave us an earful about messing with the natural breeding process of kelpies, made us put it back at once."

Nora laughed when Lupin grinned sheepishly.

"You're lucky to have seen one," she told Tristan. "There aren't many wild kelpies left in the Black Lake. Most have been tamed by merpeople so they don't lay eggs on shore anymore."

"Luna and I are going to look after it until it hatches."

"Luna?" Nora echoed, turning fully so she was now on her knees facing Tristan. "Luna's the friend you mentioned?"

"Yeah, so what?" His cheeks pinched with colour as Nora exchanged an indecipherable look with Lupin, who was trying miserably to hide an amused smile. Tristan cleared his throat, "Harry said you're going to teach him how to fight the dementors, is that true?"

Elbow balanced on his knee, Lupin raked his fingers through his hair with a sigh. "It would seem so."

Nora frowned, "Isn't Harry a bit too young to be learning the Patronus Charm?"

"Believe me, I have my own reservations about it. But Harry's quite persistent, and since dementors seem to have taken a personal interest in him, it couldn't hurt if he was a bit more prepared for the next time they cross his path."

"Couldn't hurt you either," Tristan told his sister. "Given what happened in the last Quidditch game, you'll be toast if the dementors ever come for you."

Flushing with shame, Nora sat back and lowered her gaze to the floor. Tristan felt awful. He opened his big mouth to apologise, but shut it at once when he saw Professor Lupin reach out to squeeze her hand. He eyed the gentle gesture, brows furrowing.

"We're starting the Patronus in class next week," Lupin said, grabbing a roll of parchment and dipping his quill in ink. "It's not an easy spell. Even some of the most highly-skilled wizards struggle with it. I have great expectations for you, Nora. You are without a doubt one of my best students. In fact, I was impressed by your duelling abilities yesterday. It's quite the hidden talent you have."

This time Nora flushed with delight. Tristan laughed, giving her a playful nudge with his foot. "You and Caito showed off again, did you?"

"Shut up," she retaliated good-naturedly, swatting his foot away.

Professor Lupin hummed without taking his eyes off the essay he was grading. "Doesn't come as surprise that Caito's such a talented dueller, his father was also good. They're very much alike."

"You knew Caito's dad?" Nora asked, eyes wide. Tristan leaned in, also interested.

"I did. We didn't go to school together since Caradoc was about ten years older than me, but we were close during the war. I actually met Caito and his brother once. It was right before Caradoc disappeared so it's likely he doesn't remember. He must've been three or four…"

"Five," she corrected seemingly automatic. "Caito was five."

Tristan stared at the empty mug in his hands, feeling his chest grow heavy. Nora was five too when their mother was killed.

Lupin lowered his quill, shifting toward Nora, suddenly curious. "You're close."

"We used to be," she said sadly. "I've known Caito most of my life. He was our neighbour before they lost their house. His mum was never the same after his dad disappeared. Her mind is weak and she can't control Caito's brother. Callum is… well, he's not a very nice person. He resents Caito for being a wizard, and he takes to drinking and gambling often. It's gotten them in a lot of trouble over the years."

Tristan thought back to the few times he had met Caito's mother before they moved away. The thing he remembered most vividly was the vacant look on her face and the cool detachment in the way she treated Caito. Callum, on the other hand, he remembered all too well. A mean brute, just like his father.

"The three of you haven't led easy lives, have you?" Professor Lupin said gently.

Neither have you, Tristan wanted to say — he couldn't have, as a werewolf. In fact, he probably understood better than anyone what it was like to be looked down on, cast aside and despised for no reason other than his own existence. At least they would escape one day. But Lupin… Lupin could never escape his cursed fate.

"It's the lives we were dealt with," Nora said without any particular emotion as she went back to grading essays. "Sometimes all you can do is make the most of what you were given and hope the future will turn out better."

Lupin's gaze was soft and deeply sorrowful as he eyed Nora, then looked up at Tristan, who swallowed dryly and looked away, growing uncomfortable with the compassion he saw there. Hadn't he known better, he would have thought Lupin cared about them. But why would he?

Tristan chugged the rest of his tea to force down the lump in his throat. Something in the parchment on Nora's lap suddenly caught his eye.

"Is that my essay?" He leaned over her shoulder to have a better look. His jaw dropped at the several blotches of red he found. "You've got to be joking! That's a perfectly well-written essay! What's wrong with it?"

Nora slapped his hand off when he tried to take the parchment from her. "For one it's been copied off Hermione."

"What? No, it hasn't," he argued a little too quickly. His sister fixed him with a deadpan look.

"I've been proofreading your homework too long not to be able to tell when you copy some of hers. And besides, your grammar is terrible. You've foregone the use of punctuation entirely!"

"Who cares about grammar? It's Defence Against the Dark Arts, not English class! Professor, you can't let her grade my essays, it's not fair!"

Lupin raised his hands and put on an air of grave seriousness. "You're absolutely right, my mistake. From now on only I will be in charge of your essays."

"You're too lenient with him," Nora said with a tut. "He'll never learn if you keep letting him have his way."

"I thought I was the authority here, why am I the one getting scolded?" Lupin said dryly, though his voice was full of humour.

She grinned up at him, "It's the weekend so your authority doesn't count today."

"Ah yes, of course." Lupin's eyes twinkled mischievously when he looked down at her. "How foolish of me. I suppose I won't be awarding you extra credit for helping me with my work either, seeing as I'm not a teacher on the weekends."

Tristan sniggered at the look on his sister's face. Lupin turned to give him a sly wink.

"If that's how you're going to play, next time you're on your own with your endless piles of assignments," she threatened.

"You don't really mean that," Lupin replied airily.

"Yes, I do!"

"You're an awful liar, Nora."

Tristan joined in on the fun. "Yeah, she can't lie to save her life. This one time, McGonagall caught her sneaking around past curfew and she tried to come up with an excuse, but her face got so red no one in their right minds would ever believe a word she said."

Lupin tossed his head back with a laugh while Nora whirled around to smite Tristan. "Where did you hear that story?!"

"Where do you think?"

"Julia's a dead woman..." Nora muttered under her breath. Then she narrowed her eyes at Professor Lupin who was still laughing. "Oh shut up, it's not that funny."

When he laughed harder, she shook her head in mock disappointment, except her face betrayed her and she broke into a smile. One of those rare, genuinely happy smiles that lately had been coming out more and more.

So that's why, Tristan thought. It was all thanks to Lupin.

As Nora predicted, it didn't take Tristan very long to grow bored and he was off to meet his friends soon after lunch, leaving her alone with Professor Lupin in his small, cozy living room while the fire blazed warm and inviting.

Lulled by utter content, she rested her head back on the couch to watch him work. The tiny crease in his forehead, the way his eyebrows gathered as he concentrated. He was wearing jeans this time, faded as all his clothes seemed to be, and a navy blue jumper under a grey cardigan, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He had scars there too, up and down his arms, white lines on his golden skin, like scratches. Or maybe bites.

She wanted to ask how he had come to have them, what kind of life he had lived. It felt like he knew so much about her already and she knew so little about him.

"Am I really that interesting?" A little smile tugged at his lips as he spared her a sidelong look. Nora blushed, embarrassed of having been caught.

"Thanks for letting Tristan stay," she said to avoid answering his playful question with the truth, that yes, she did find him that interesting.

"I should be thanking you." Lupin rolled the parchment he had been working on, dropped it on the finished pile and set aside his quill, despite still having plenty of work to get done. "I happen to enjoy Tristan's company."

"Not as much as mine, I hope," she joked, curling her legs sideways to make herself more comfortable. The hem of her dress rode up a little when she did that, and she didn't miss the way Lupin eyed her skin as she tugged it down before hastily facing the fire.

"You've grown rather greedy, Nora."

She peered up at him from under her eyelashes. "Whose fault is that?"

He spared her another sidelong glance, rubbing his darkened jaw with the palm of his hand, silently considering her. After a lengthy pause, he pointed to the books piled on top of an armchair, "Get me that red one, will you, darling?"

Curious, Nora did as he requested. It wasn't very far so she sat on her knees, reached out to pluck the red book from in between two thick ones and handed it to Lupin as she sat back against the couch.

"It's for you," he said.

She widened her eyes. "For me? Really?"

"It's a collection of poems from Pablo Neruda. I found it last night, I'd forgotten I packed it."

"I've never heard of him," Nora mused while flipping through the sand-coloured pages with great care. She was incredibly touched by the gesture. No one had ever given her a book of poems.

"I imagined you didn't. He isn't a classical poet like Byron or Wilde, but I have a feeling you'll enjoy it. His poetry is very passionate... it makes me think of you."

Lupin had uttered that last part so softly, she almost didn't catch it. She raised her head and found him looking at her. His eyes flickered over her face, down to her lips, then back up to her eyes, searching them for something, although she couldn't fathom what. Suddenly, she felt extremely self-conscious and too shy to hold his intense gaze.

"Will you read to me?" Nora asked.

"Of course."

Their fingers brushed, softly, deliberately, as Lupin took the book. He flipped though it briefly, then balanced it on his knee with one hand, clearing his throat.

"Perhaps not to be is to be without your being; without your going, that cuts noon light like a blue flower; without your passing later through fog and stones; without the torch you lift in your hands that others may not see as golden, that perhaps no one believed blossomed the flowing origin of the rose —"

"— Without, in the end, your being, your coming suddenly, inspiringly, to know my life; blaze of the rose-tree, wheat of the breeze; and it follows that I am, because you are; it follows from 'you are', that I am, and we; and, because of love, you will, I will; we will, come to be."

Nora had closed her eyes while he recited, better to immerse herself in the sound of his deep, warm voice, in the vibration of every rumbling word. When he finished, she fluttered her heavy eyelids halfway open. It felt like every bone in her body had melted away.

"It's beautiful."

"Yes, it is," he agreed.

Her heart kicked hard remembering how he had said Neruda's poetry made him think of her. She tugged her hair over one shoulder, feeling several degrees hotter and not because of the fire.

"My mum loved poetry," Nora said, aware that he was watching her avidly, listening with rapt attention just like she had listened to him. "I'm not sure how I know, I just do. It's what got me into reading at first, because it made me feel close to her. My grandmother hates it, though; hates all things muggle. I had to sneak out of the house and go to the bookshop in town to read when I was young. Even now, I have to hide all my books under my bed when I'm home for the summer. She caught me with a copy of Little Women once and burned the book right out of my hands. I was ten."

Lupin made a move to touch her, yet hesitated before doing so, seeming torn and conflicted. She grabbed his hand that hovered uncertainly and brought it to her lap, looping her fingers through his.

"Sorry." Nora shook her head with a self-deprecating chuckle, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. "I keep telling you depressive stories about my messed up childhood, can't imagine it must be fun. It's a wonder you still want to spend time with me."

"Don't say that. Meeting you has brought me more happiness than I have felt in a long time."

She desperately wanted to believe he meant it, that he wasn't only saying those things to comfort her. Because it was the same for her, she was happier now than she had ever been.

She moved closer to his side. He tensed, but made no move to pull away. Emboldened, Nora traced her fingers over the white lines on his arm.

"How did you get these?" Lupin tensed harder, going stiff as a board. Immediately she realised she should have kept her mouth shut. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that..."

The silence that followed was so thick and awkward, she honestly wished the ground would swallow her whole. She was mortified by her own stupidity. No matter how much she had come to treasure their closeness, Lupin was still her teacher.

As she made to pull back, his fingers tightened around hers.

"I used to hate them," he said, closing his eyes as though in great pain. "I would hide my scars, pretend they didn't exist. But every time I looked in the mirror there they were, staring me in the face. It made me feel so..."

"Ashamed?" Nora finished when he couldn't. She knew understood what that was like. Even if he never told her how he got those marks, she knew. Some scars were more than skin-deep.

"Yes," Lupin sighed wearily. "They made me feel ashamed. And so, I hated them."

"To be alive is to have scars," she said gently, wanting nothing more than to console him like he so often consoled her.

His troubled expression softened. He opened his eyes and looked down at her with a smile that was almost endeared. "Only you, Nora, would think of quoting John Steinbeck so pertinently."

She hid her crimson face in his shoulder, hearing and feeling Lupin laugh quietly.

The room was getting darker as the sun slowly began to descend past the window. Noticing this, he checked his watch. Saddened, Nora waited for him to tell her it was time to leave. Only he didn't. Instead, he slid further down, almost to better accommodate her head on his shoulder. She felt his breath ghost lightly on her hair, sending tingles down her spine.

"Should I read you another one?" he asked, opening Neruda's book again.

"You can read all of them," she said eagerly. Lupin laughed again, a deep, throaty laugh.

"You really have grown greedy..."