Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban Timeline

"He Holds the Moon"

ooo

"There are fires, vast and endless, that burn in me for you. And I will carry them until you are ready to walk through the flames of me."

- William C. Hannan

DARK CORNERS

Students from other houses liked to label Ravenclaws as bookworms, goody two-shoes, teacher's pets. What most failed to realise is that Ravenclaws actually threw the best parties in the castle and they did so in record time. It was a team effort really. Everyone smuggled some food from the kitchens, seventh and sixth years pulled out their secret stashes of beer and firewhiskey to spike the drinks, and they all took turns controlling the music. After all, what was a party without some good music?

A loud, frantic beat blasted from the wireless, some wizarding band Nora had never heard of and wasn't particularly into. She did a quick scan of the room out of habit, trying to keep an eye on younger students in case the excitement became too much for them. Most people had taken to dancing and singing, a few others to drinking games. Liam, like the outcast he was, was sitting in a corner looking like he would rather be anywhere else than there.

Laughing quietly to herself, Nora skirted her way over and punched him in the shoulder. "Quit pouting. You should be celebrating your team's victory."

"Why? We always win. Novelty's long gone," he grumbled.

"Ever wondered why you don't have many friends? I think that attitude might be part of the problem," she said dryly, gulping down some of her drink before offering it to Liam.

"Thought you liked my attitude..." He brought the glass to his lips and choked on the first sip. "Bloody hell! Shouldn't there be some juice or something in this firewhiskey?"

"Thought you knew I like my drinks neat," Nora teased. But he just shoved the offending drink back at her, evidently not in the mood for jokes.

The party kept going throughout the night. After midnight mostly only older students were left so it came as no surprise when someone proposed a game of truth or dare. Liam, fearing the worst, made his escape at that point. Nora wasn't inclined to play either, but felt too restless to sleep. She looked around and saw Emma tugging Caito toward the fireplace where everyone was gathering for the game. It hurt a little. Not for the first time Nora wished Julia was a Ravenclaw.

Feeling disappointed and left out, she refilled her drink and slipped out of the common room. The corridor was eery and dark, only the bare minimum light still burning, dim flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. Around the corner, Nora found a large window with a ledge. She hopped onto it and let the soft tap tap of the rain lull her while indulging on the firewhiskey, enjoying the way it burned in her throat and all the way down to her stomach. She welcomed the heat, the buzz the liquid brought to her anxious mind.

"So this is where you ran off to..."

Nora smiled at the voice and made some room on the window seat for Caito when he came to join her. Even in the dim lighting, she could tell he was sweaty and flushed from the party. Wet beads glistened on his forehead.

"Bored already?"

"Not really into truth or dare."

She made a quiet hum, eyeing him with worry. "How's the shoulder?"

He rolled it back as a reflex. "Madam Pomfrey worked her magic on it, so good as new. I've had worse anyway."

"I remember," Nora said playfully. "You were a menace today. Working your frustrations out on the field, were you?"

"I won't deny it." Sheepish, Caito rubbed the back of his neck. "Beats working them out on that idiot, doesn't it?"

"I'd ask about what happened in the duelling club, but I have a feeling you're not going to tell me either," she said bitterly.

Caito shrugged, threading his fingers through his windswept hair. "Served me right anyway. Much as I loath to admit, I should've known better than to provoke Liam. He's not a brawler, but he puts up a mean fight. Dunno who took the worst of it to be honest."

"Men!" Noda scoffed. "You all think your problems can be solved with your fists. At least you managed to survive detention together. How did it go by the way?"

"Not terrible. Lupin had us write a thousand words on the proper conduct of gentlemen, then he gave us some chocolate because we had to skip dinner and sent us off to bed."

It was such a Professor Lupin thing to do, she just had to smile.

Caito eyed her sideways, studying her. "So..." He cleared his throat, "What's the deal with you and Em?"

That wiped the smile right out of Nora's face. "Emma thinks it's my fault you and Liam got in a fight," she explained bitterly.

"It's not," he said quickly.

"Go and tell her that, then." Frustrated, Nora finished her drink and set the glass behind her on the window seat. "I know she blames me for breaking up the group. She might not say it to my face, but it's easy enough to see. I've committed the worst sin in her eyes, rejected the perfect male specimen."

He blurted out a surprised laugh, cheeks flushing with delight. "I'm hardly perfect!"

"You are to her. She's always fancied you, you do know that, right?"

"Em fancies any good-looking fellow, she's a natural-born flirt." Nora had a feeling Emma was a bit more serious about Caito than he was giving her credit for. "Funny, though..." he said, looking at her meaningfully. "I used to want you to think of me as perfect. I never wanted you to see all my ugly flaws."

"Oh don't be silly," she rebutted at once, although not unkindly. "I've known you what, ten years? There isn't a flaw of yours I haven't seen by now. And why would any of them matter to me? Everyone has flaws. The world would be awfully boring otherwise."

Caito smiled the softest of smiles. "It's so easy for you to embrace people as they are. You never expect anything from anyone, you just open your heart and take them in. I've always admired that about you."

The clear passion in his voice as he spoke and the way his gaze seemed to swallow her whole made her increasingly uncomfortable. She dragged her eyes down to her lap, fighting against the urge to flinch from his touch when he reached out to brush aside the hair that was partially hiding her face and tried to coax her eyes back to him. He was too close, and getting closer still. Memories of rushed kisses and clumsy, greedy hands jumped to the forefront of Nora's mind.

When he leaned in, she put a hand over his chest to stop him. "I can't, Caito. I'm sorry, I really am..."

He dropped his forehead to her shoulder with a sigh. "Why? Why can't you?"

"You know why," she whispered into his hair.

"Do I?" Caito laughed, but the sound was hollow. He picked his head up as though to better show her the misery written all over his face. "All I know is I've tried my best to forget you, to stop feeling the way I feel about you. And yet even when I thought I had, even after I was fine all summer, it took only one look at you to bring back everything... ten years of loving you."

Nora looked away, pressed her eyes shut. She couldn't go through this again. It would hurt him, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"I just need a chance, Nora," Caito insisted, a pleading quality latent to his voice. "I would take good care of you — you know I would. I'd work hard to make you happy."

"That's precisely the point, Caito," she said in a desperate attempt to bring him to reason. "You shouldn't have to work hard to make me happy. Love should be effortless, like breathing. You deserve someone who will love you the way you are meant to be loved, fully and unconditionally."

"Who cares what I deserve? What about what I want? Doesn't it account for anything? I can provide for you and Tristan. I can keep you safe from your father—"

"Stop," Nora intervened with as much kindness as she could muster while still sounding stern. She hopped off the window seat to distance herself from him. "You're drunk. Come on, let's head back to the common room…"

In one fast move, Caito pulled her back as she was walking away. The despetate look in his eyes and the way he towered over her froze Nora. She gulped, alarm building up rapidly inside her.

"I'm not drunk, I know exactly what I'm saying. I want you, Nora. I've always wanted you. There's no one else for me."

He sounded too serious, too dangerous. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, but it was the first time she was afraid of him, feeling trapped not only by his fierce grip but by her own traitorous body refusing to move.

A sharp cough had them both jumping out of their skin. To her complete and utter horror, the cherry on top of utter humiliation, Professor Lupin was standing at the end of the hallway, no doubt having watched everything enfold. He eyed Caito, then Nora and the hand that was grasping her wrist, then Caito again. His mouth pursed into a tight, thin line as he advanced toward them in slow, deliberate strides.

"It's unbecoming of a man to grab a lady like that, Caito," he said with practiced calm. "Particularly when it's very late and dark and he's had, as I'm sure you have, quite a bit to drink."

Caito let go of Nora as if burned. "We were just talking."

"I imagine you were." Lupin came to a stop beside her, hands tucked into his pockets. His casual posture portrayed one thing, his hardened face another entirely different. "It's long past curfew. I understand you're a Prefect, and I'm willing to overlook the breaking of several school rules seeing as Ravenclaw has won today's match, but I strongly suggest you return to your common room to sleep off the firewhiskey."

Jaw working oddly, Caito dropped his gaze to Nora searching for help. She bowed her head to avoid his wounded, pleading eyes.

"Now, Caito," Lupin demanded coldly.

There was more hesitation before they finally heard Caito's heavy footsteps fade away.

When Lupin brought his warm hand to the small of her back, a familiar gesture that immediately washed her with comfort, Nora peered up at his face.

"I'm fine."

He didn't seem at all convinced. Still frowning, he swept a curl from her flushed cheek, tucked it behind her ear. "You've also been drinking."

"Two cups," Nora admitted sheepishly. Her stomach was in knots, and not simply because he stood so close. She took a deep breath, chewing on her lip. "How much of that did you hear?"

"Enough." He studied her with dark, shrewd eyes. "It wasn't anything I didn't already suspect. Students gossip."

"Nothing's going on between me and Caito," she said quickly. "There never was. Not like everyone thinks."

Lupin lowered his hand from her face, back to his side. "You don't owe me any explanations, Nora. It's none of my business."

"Right," she choked out, groaning inwardly at her own foolishness and blushing madly. Would've been less embarrassing if the ground cracked open under her feet and gobbled her whole. "I guess you wouldn't care about what does or doesn't go on between me and Caito, why should you?"

For a long time he said nothing, holding still as a rock in that draughty, cobbled corridor, studying her intensely and looking as though he were struggling internally. Nora held just as still, willing herself not to falter under the wild, frenzied thumping of her heart.

"Does it matter?" Lupin asked at last. "Would it make a difference if I cared? Would that change anything?" He turned fully to her, coming closer, until she had to tip her head back to see his face. His expression was unreadable, obscured by shadows cast by the flames around them, yet so intense, so heady, it left her dizzy. "Because the truth is, Nora... I find myself thinking about you much more than I probably should."

Her breath caught in her throat. The silence was stifling, deafening, charged with words she had been desperately wanting to say for so long. And yet, her voice seemed to have deserted her completely, just when she most needed it.

Dry wheezing and the shuffling of feet reached Nora's ears. They both looked toward the sound, then to each other, eyes wide. The same thought seemed to shoot through their brains at the exact same moment — if Filch caught her out and about this late, smelling and looking unmistakably like someone who had been drinking, no amount of coaxing from Professor Lupin could save her from severe punishment. She couldn't afford another blotch on her record, Professor Flitwick would throw a massive fit.

Reacting with impressive swiftness, Lupin dragged her behind a tapestry. They stumbled into a cramped alcove with hardly any room for one person much less two. She let out a shocked gasp when her back collided with freezing stone and Lupin covered her mouth, putting one finger to his lips to shush her while Filch paced around in the corridor like a madman, muttering angrily to Mrs. Norris.

It was nearly pitch black in the alcove, only a faded, muffled shimmer penetrated through the old tapestry. In the absence of light, all of Nora's senses seemed to have fired up, gone fully alert. Lupin's smell was everywhere, books and chocolate and oakwood and him — just him, wrapped in her hair, pouring over her, seeping into every inch of her feverish skin. He was completely pressed against her, warm and solid, one arm holding above her head so as not to crush her while she was caged between the wall and the expanse of his body. She waited for the cold-sweats, the panic that came with being crowded, but it never came. In fact, she was surprised by how much she wanted him closer still.

He was studying her again, staring, transfixed, with a soft, vulnerable look in his dark, profound eyes. No one had ever looked at her like that, like she was the end and the beginning of everything.

"You are so beautiful," Lupin whispered, his voice, low and deep, tugging at her belly. As his hand slipped from her mouth, the pad of his thumb tracing her lower lip, Nora dared not even breathe, lest it would break the spell between them. "My heart aches every time I see you..." His fingertips ghosted her cheek, along her jaw, settled over the side of her neck. "I'm in agony every minute of every day knowing I can never have you..."

Her world tilted, shifted from its axis. Whatever she expected, whatever she had imagined, didn't come close to finally being in this moment, being in his arms, hearing such wonderful poetry spill from his lips. Things like consequences, rules, age… none of that mattered to her anymore — only Lupin and his reverent touch, kindling endless fires over her skin, under it, under muscle and bone, all the way to her very essence.

Trembling like a volcano posed to erupt, Nora lifted her hand to his face, splayed her fingers over his stubbled cheek. He closed his eyes with a sharp inhale and took the arm he had above her head so that he could cover her hand with his own, holding it there and nuzzling his nose against her palm, murmuring her name with a kind of sweet fervour.

"Back there you asked me if anything would change..." Nora paused to draw a shaky breath. Then, emboldened, she turned his face firmly to her so they were looking at each other. "The truth is, it already has. It all started changing the moment we met. I feel like I've been waiting my whole life for you."

Lupin exhaled shakily, hot air blowing lightly over her nose. "Nora, you don't want me. Trust me, I'm not…" He struggled for a moment with words. "I'm not the kind of man you think I am. You still have so much to live and I… I would be your ruin."

His eyes seemed to want to drown her in their sadness. How could someone so kind ever ruin anybody? She didn't fully understand. All she knew was that they had gone too far to back down. The line had been crossed. If she let him walk away now, not only would she lose the only person who had ever held her heart, but also her dear friend.

Nora traced the scars she had grown to love with the tips of her fingers, staring at his lips — lips she had spent countless sleepless nights dreaming of getting lost in. "Ruin me," she breathed with a passion she hadn't known herself capable of. "Break me, devastate me beyond repair, I don't care. You've already ripped my ribcage open and crawled inside. So long as I can have you, nothing else matters."

Breathing heavily, he called her name again, as though in agony, as though about to crumble. His arm jumped to her waist, eliminating any remnant of distance between their bodies, so that she was so tightly melded to him that it seemed like his heart wasn't only thundering against hers but inside it.

"Please." She heard herself implore and barely recognised the sound of her own voice. Had she always sounded so wanton?

"God — Nora," he uttered in a choked, broken whisper. The hand on her neck found her hair, tangled in it, gripped her curls at the base of her head. They were forehead to forehead, breathing the same air, breathing each other almost, in fast, urgent gasps.

His hold on her was strong, and yet so gentle still, so tender, so reverent. Of their own accord, her hands slipped beneath his jacket, revelling in the strong planes of his chest, in the way he shuddered under her palms. It was too much. Or maybe not enough. She couldn't decide. She felt both exhilarated and scared because they were coming undone in each other's arms and they hadn't even kissed yet...

Suddenly, as quickly as it had began, it was all over.

Lupin released her abruptly, taking two steps backwards, staggering through the tapestry and out of the hidden alcove, very nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away from her. Nora stumbled after him, recoiling as the cold air of the empty corridor smacked against her hot, damp skin.

"I... I shouldn't have done that," Lupin stammered clumsily, sounding like he was speaking to himself. His hands were unsteady when he raised them to yank at his hair. "What was I thinking? My god, what was I thinking?"

Nora tried to reach for him, but he jerked away.

"Don't touch me!"

She shrunk at the tone; he'd never raised his voice at her.

Shame took over his contrite face at her reaction. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. This is all my fault. I never should have let things come this far. It was a mistake. All of it."

A mistake — the very word shattered her heart. "Do you... do you really mean that?"

Lupin didn't seem to hear her. He staggered two more steps back, turning around so he was facing away from her. Gutted, completely and irrevocably gutted, Nora stared at his stiff, lonely back. A minute ago this man had looked at her like she was the pinnacle of all his thoughts and desires. He had confessed to ache for her in all the same ways she had been aching for him. A minute ago they had held each other so tightly, so closely... and now he felt miles and miles away.

"Go back to your common room," he said quietly, shoulders sagging tiredly in defeat. But she stayed rooted, afraid that if she were to move at all her shaky legs would buckle under the weight of her own body. "Please, Nora, just... just leave me alone..."

She wanted to reach out again, to fight, argue, say something. Except she was having a hard time breathing and her thoughts were jumbled, frantic and half-finished. Humiliation hit her in waves. She felt like such a complete moron, putting everything out on the line, spilling out her most inner feelings and desires hoping he would take them, hoping he would want her too. Why would he? Why would he ever want to risk everything for her?

Blinded by tears of utter pain and shame, Nora ran until she crashed against the door to Ravenclaw Tower. The eagle-shaped knocker spoke to her, but she couldn't register anything over the heartbreak settling in her chest, weighing down like a block of cement, crushing and unmovable. Her legs finally gave under and she fell to the floor, barely even feeling the throbbing on her knees from scraping against stone. A choked sob rocked her body. She clapped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, willing herself to stop.

It hurt so much. She wanted to die. She wanted to disappear. How could she have allowed herself to be hopeful? She should have known better than to want something. It wasn't her place to want anything. Lupin thought he would ruin her. Well, he was wrong. Dead wrong.

She had long been ruined.

Tristan had been going to the boathouse every day hoping Luna would be there, even though she never was. Monday afternoon, more out of stubbornness than anything, he trudged down the path to the lake, having no confidence whatsoever that today would be any different. How surprising it was to come around the building and find her sitting on the dead tree log, snowy hair billowing in the wind.

He stopped dead in his tracks as she turned her head slightly toward the sound. Took him a few good minutes to work up the nerve to walk over and sit next to her.

"I'm not embarrassed to be seen with you," Tristan said quietly so as not to intrude on the serene forest. Luna turned again, fully toward him this time, but he tilted his face to the cloudy sky, breathing in the cool, humid air. "And I don't pity you either. I don't do pity. I hate it when it's aimed at me, hate it when people can't hide it from their faces, hate every form of it. So I would never pity you."

She contemplated him for a very long beat before finally, "All right."

He nodded, satisfied. "I know you have a point," he continued, lacing his fingers and fiddling with his thumbs. "We don't know each other yet. But I don't mind what other people think of me. I like that you're different, it isn't embarrassing at all, why should it be? I guess what I was really worried about was what you might hear about me after everyone knew we were friends."

"Are we, though? Friends?" Luna asked in that blunt manner of hers.

He eyed her sideways. "I want us to be…"

"Then you shouldn't worry about stuff like that. It doesn't matter, does it? I've never had a friend, but my mum always said friends shouldn't judge each other."

So many unexpected things had come out of her mouth, Tristan wasn't entirely sure which one to focus on first. "You've never had a friend?" Luna shook her head, further befuddling him. "How — I mean… not even when you were a kid or something?"

"There aren't many children round where I live."

What a lonely childhood it must've been, Tristan thought. He could relate to that.

"There aren't either where I'm from. I had Nora, obviously, but Hermione was my first real friend. We picked the same compartment on the train. I was in the foulest mood that day, all I wanted was to be left alone. I remember thinking she was annoying because she wouldn't shut up over some book about Hogwarts."

"If you thought she was so annoying, how did you end up friends?" Luna asked curiously.

The memory made him smile a little. "I had a cut, right here—" He brushed a finger over his cheekbone. "I was picking at it like an idiot and it started bleeding. Hermione's parents are muggles — dentists actually, which apparently are sort of like healers but for teeth."

"Fascinating," Luna said, leaning closer, eyes sparkling with interest.

"Isn't it? Anyway, since her parents were muggles, they packed in her bag a box of sticky bandages — bandaids, I think that's what they're called. She just kinda smacked my hand away and put the thing on me. It was so rude. I remember she said to me — 'You'll get an infection like that! No one's ever taught you not to pick at a cut?' And she had this no-nonsense, know-it-all type of voice, y'know. Her normal voice as it happens. She just reminded me so much of my sister that I decided I wouldn't mind being friends with her."

"You like genuine people. Makes sense, you're genuine too." Luna was smiling, a soft smile that brought a rush of warmth to Tristan's cheeks. He scratched the back of his neck, not really knowing what to do with the compliment. "That's why I don't understand why you're so worried about what I may or may not hear from people."

Here it was — the big question, the one he'd been dreading. But also, he thought, a chance to open up, let her in. Like Professor Lupin said, it was up to him to make the first move if he wanted Luna to be his friend.

"You knew I had an affinity for creatures because you heard people talk about it. Well, what else did you hear?"

Her eyes immediately darted to her shoes kicking pebbles on the ground.

"Right." Tristan pulled a cynical smile. "No one ever wants to ask or talk about it, but they certainly enjoy gossiping behind my back. It's fine. They're not wrong. I do get beat up at home."

Luna's eyes jumped back to his. Her pale eyebrows knitted together, like she couldn't quite process what he said. It was his turn to look away.

"I've got a big mouth on me. I guess you've probably noticed that." He shook his head with a bitter, sort of hollow laugh. "Keeps landing me in trouble. My father doesn't like when things don't go his way, and my big mouth and I don't like doing things his way. It's hard to tell who hates each other more sometimes."

"You... hate your dad?" She sounded so disillusioned, he almost felt bad about having confessed that.

"My father's cruel, Luna. You can't imagine what he's capable of. The things he's done..." Tristan trailed off, partly because there was a painful lump in his throat and partly because he didn't think it was fair of him to stain those rose-coloured glasses Luna still saw the world through.

Maybe sensing this, she touched his hand, lowering her face, trying to peer up at his. The light caught in her luminous, silvery eyes. "Tell me."

And so he did. He told her everything.

Liam knew he had many flaws. For one, he had very poor social skills. Small talk was a foreign concept to him. He hated meeting new people, and more often than not he would check out of a conversation if it held little to no interest to him. He was also obsessed with keeping things neat and organised, to the point of driving everyone in his dorm room a bit mad. His tea always had to be at the exact same temperature. He hated noise and loud music, and he couldn't dance to save his life, no matter how many times Granny Rose tried to teach him. Then, there was his sharp, brutally honest nature. He lost count of how many young students he had scared off when they approached him in the hallways. As a matter of fact, he had a strong suspicion that was the reason Dumbledore decided to give Caito the title of Prefect instead of him, even though he was always top of the class.

Two years later, Caito's Prefect status still brought a bitter taste to Liam's mouth. In his opinion, Caito had enough achievements of his own — Duelling Champion, Chaser of the Year, Youngest Quidditch Captain... Prefect shouldn't have made the list.

Served him right that he couldn't add Head Boy too, Liam thought bitterly as he glared daggers at Caito in the Great Hall over breakfast one morning. As a reflex, he rubbed the spot on his lip where Caito's right cross had landed during their brawl. He really wished he could have also done some damage to Caito's good-looking face. Broken his stupid, perfect nose at the very least.

Appetite lost, Liam pushed away his half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. He saw Emma waltzing through the golden doors by herself and narrowed his eyes when she stopped at the edge of the table where the Quidditch team was assembled to whisper something in Caito's ear that put a charming smile on his face.

"Where's Nora?" Liam demanded when she joined him at last. Emma shrugged, starting to lather jam on a slice of toasted bread. "It's been two days. If she isn't feeling any better shouldn't she go to the hospital wing?"

"I offered to take her, but she won't leave her bed— where are you going?" Emma froze with bread halfway to her mouth, fixing Liam with a look of pure annoyance as he was rising from the bench. "Sit down, idiot, you can't go up the stairs to check on her."

Realising his sister was right, he dropped back to his seat, disgruntled. "Has she at least eaten anything? I bet she hasn't," he added under his breath.

"She'll eat whenever she feels like eating. Nora's a big girl, she can take care of herself without you constantly hovering over her."

"I don't hover," Liam snapped. And no she can't, he added inwardly when worry reared its head. It was never a good sign when Nora refused to leave bed. Last time it happened she didn't eat for four days.

"Yes, you do, you're like a puppy always at her heels." Emma polished off the bread and shook the crumbs off her fingers. She put her arms on the table, leaning forward. "It's pathetic, Liam."

He felt the tips of his ears burn despite himself. To mask his embarrassment, he bared his teeth. "Didn't know it was pathetic to worry about my friend, who also happens to be yours in case you've forgotten."

"Don't take that tone with me," Emma snarked back. "I'm telling you this for your own good. Get a clue — you're making a fool of yourself."

"Me? That's rich. Maybe you oughta take a look in the mirror. Do you honestly believe flirting shamelessly will get you anywhere?"

When she said nothing, Liam scoffed. Shaking his head, he grabbed his bag and walked out of the hall. The nerve of her, he thought as he angrily stormed his way up to the third floor. Why was he pathetic? Since when was it wrong to care for someone who was in desperate need to be cared for?

Nora wasn't like Emma and Julia. She hid behind a coat of armour, but there were cracks in that coat — deep, irreversible cracks. Years of physical and mental abuse had damaged her in ways he couldn't begin to imagine. Most days Nora was fine; smiling and cheeky and so, so lovely. But then there were times when something dug hard into her scars, those deep cracks in her armour, and she fell down a dark, sinking hole.

Every year Nora had the chance to escape her own personal hell only to return months later when school ended. They all knew it, yet they all pretended not to. And because she didn't open up to any of them, not completely, there was no way of knowing what hellish nightmares happened in that house. Liam found that to be the hardest, most terrifying thing to deal with. How bad was it? What else was she going through at the hands of her father? How much more was she hiding?

Caito, much to Liam's dismay, was probably the only one who knew. Besides having grown up together, he had also had demons of his own to deal with at home. That kinship and intimacy between them used to be painstakingly evident, before he had gone and royally screwed things up.

Liam imagined their closeness was the reason why Caito had read too much into his bond with Nora and tried to take it too far. Who could blame him? He couldn't for sure. Had he been put in similar position, he wasn't sure he wouldn't have done the same…

He halted in his furious strides and brought a hand to his chest, where his heart suddenly seemed to weigh heavily. Angry at himself for even allowing that thought to slip into his mind, he shooed it away and climbed the last flight of stairs, arriving at Defence Against the Dark Arts and slamming his bag on his desk.

"Something crawl up your arse and died there today, Crowley?" Nate Ainsworth, Liam's usual desk partner, asked with halfhearted interest.

"Bite me."

"Must be incredibly tiring, acting like a brackish stuck-up all the time." Nate balanced his chair on its two hind legs back and forth. "Personally, I couldn't do it. All that frowning and scowling... it gives you wrinkles, you know? I'm far too handsome to have wrinkles."

"You're too something all right," Liam grumbled testily while preparing for the lesson. He made a point to ignore Emma when she waltzed past his table to her seat, just as she made a point of ignoring him. Worked perfectly for him.

They had to wait a while for Professor Lupin to arrive, which Liam thought was very odd because Lupin was usually in the room before any of his students. About ten minutes later, the door swung open and he walked in, ashen-pale and grim like death, with tired, red-shot eyes. Shirt crumpled. Tie crooked, knot clearly done in a hurry.

Nate let out a low whistle, "Looks like we might be putting up with Snape again soon."

"Yeah," Liam said vaguely, watching Lupin fumble with his briefcase and noticing the way his eyes seemed to linger over the vacant chair next to Emma. "He must be coming down with another cold…"

Rather than practicing the Patronus Charm, this time they were given a fully theoretical class with quizzes and several handwritten exercises. Lupin defended it was preparation for their midterm exams, but anyone with half a brain could tell it was because the man was a wreck. His speech lacked its usual spark and his movements were sluggish and slow-paced. While the class worked in silence, he would often take to staring out the window with a faraway look in his sunken eyes, seeming too weak to even tease or give a good-natured scolding to students who chitchatted in the background like he normally did.

When the bell rang, everyone packed their quills and manuals and went to turn in their quizzes.

"Are you coming?" Emma asked Liam, pausing at his table. Apparently they were on speaking terms again.

"You go," he told her. "I'll catch up."

Hoisting his bag over the shoulder, he waited until the last student had walked away from Lupin's desk before going to hand in his paper. Lupin took it with a dull smile and added it to the pile.

"She's sick," Liam said, tapping his fingers on the strap of his bag while the man stared blankly at him. "Nora — she's been bedridden since the weekend. In case you were wondering why she missed class."

Something flickered in Lupin's foggy gaze. Guilt and shame. Bucketloads of it. Liam saw it clear as day.

"I see…" Lupin pushed his stubborn hair back with an impatient jerk of his hand. "Thanks for letting me know, Liam. Would you mind terribly passing on to her today's notes?"

"I was going to anyway."

"Right," Lupin smiled tiredly. "Of course you were."

Liam turned to take his leave as Lupin started fumbling with his pile of papers. Then, cursing at himself, turned back. "You look horrible. I know Nora usually helps you with work so if you need a hand while she's sick I don't mind doing it."

Lupin looked genuinely speechless. It was understandable. Liam had never really made any effort to hide his antipathy, which was yet more proof of his brutal honesty and poor social skills. Still, flawed as he was, he was also capable of owning up when he was wrong, and even tough there was still something about Lupin that irked him, he had to commend the man for his persistency to win him over.

"Thank you, Liam," said Lupin, smiling again. Liam squirmed where he stood, skin itching with awkwardness, eyes darting around the room. "It's very kind of you to offer, but I'll manage. In any case, I shouldn't be depending on my students to get my job done."

"If you say so." Liam adjusted the bag on his shoulder, hesitating still. Sensing he had something else to add, Lupin waited patiently. "She isn't really sick, though I guess you already know that... This just happens sometimes, she's got bad days. The other teachers are aware. She'll probably be back in a couple of days, so... don't worry, or whatever."

Before Lupin could reply and inevitably make the situation ten times more awkward and uncomfortable than it already was, Liam spun on his heels and made a hasty exit. He nearly bumped into his sister who was waiting for him right outside the door.

She eyed him oddly. "Thought you didn't like Lupin."

"I don't," he replied briskly. "Didn't I tell you to go ahead without me? I still have to find Julia."

"Now? But we've got class in ten minutes!" Emma called after him as he hurried up the stairs.

Finding Julia wasn't hard. Despite having dropped several subjects this year, she had stuck with Muggle Studies because of Celia, who was an avid fan of all things muggle. Liam found her inside the showroom that displayed several muggle artefacts, leaning against one of the glass cases and making gooey eyes at her secret crush from afar while halfheartedly chatting to a fellow Gryffindor.

Surprised to see him there, Julia cocked her head to the side, brows rising above the rim of her glasses. "Liam? What—"

"C'mere—" He grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her away. "It's happening again and Emma's getting on my last nerve. I can't count on her. I need you to take over."

"What's happening again? Take over what? And where are we going?" Julia demanded, stealing one last longing glance at Celia from over her shoulder.

"We're going to the kitchens to get food, and then I'm going to sneak you inside Ravenclaw Tower so you can snap some sense into Nora's head and have her eat something before she bloody starves herself to death..."

Okay, guys... let's talk about that almost-kiss! I loved writing that scene. It was so hard to resist temptation and not have them kiss. But I figured Remus, being the tormented soul that he is, would struggle with it at first. And of course Nora would be completely devastated, who wouldn't be?

I've also loved writing Tristan and Luna as always. They're so cute, and the words just seem to flow really easily when I'm writing them.

As for Liam's POV... I kinda wanted to give him a little love. He's a complicated guy, but he's not a bad person. I actually like him more than I do Caito. Even though I wrote them both.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Let me know your thoughts as usual :D