The Seventh Year

The Seventh Year

Chapter Three

Untamable

And where two raging fires meet together,

They do consume the thing that feeds their fury.

~ The Taming of the Shrew

James wasn't liking the way Lily had looked at Romulus.

James sat motionless on the train, staring absentmindedly into the boom in his hand. The Taming of the Shrew, by William Shakespeare. It was a play that he had read many times, not because he particularly liked it, but because of the characters within it. He thought that Petruchio was infinitely interesting. He was so totally involved in himself and his goals that he ceased to care what anyone thought of him just to achieve it. Yet, the purpose of taming Katherine was to show off to his friends, and win some cash. He so absorbed himself in the quest that he couldn't see how much she meant to him.

James definitely wasn't liking the way Romulus had looked at Lily either.

Petruchio seemed so selfish, to pledge his life to this woman just to get some money in place of the fortune he had needlessly squandered. He simply showed up with his shabby clothes and old horse and took hold of the entire family, manipulating everyone to fulfill his desires. What kind of person was he to ruin a woman's life, break her personality and her vigor, squash her hopes of happiness? From the first moment the two knew each other, it had seemed that Petruchio was flirting with Katherine, but a quick glance beneath the surface revealed malicious intent, a desire to hastily hit and run.

James really wasn't liking Romulus.

James really wasn't liking Petruchio either. He closed the book and stared at the cover, running his finger over the author's name. Shakespeare was a brilliant man, regardless of the fact that he had been a squib. How could a squib string such beautiful words together and create art that lasted through centuries, when James couldn't even piece together a sentence that could convince Lily that he wasn't arrogant and self-absorbed? James threw his book against the compartment door, just as it opened and Lily Evans walked through. The book hit against her legs, and she stooped to pick it up.

"Having a fit, I see," Lily observed, sitting primly opposite him. She peered at the cover of his book. "Oh, James got angry because little Jamesey couldn't read a grown-up book."

James snatched it back. "What are you doing here, Evans?" he snapped.

"Being Head Girl - it looks like we are going to be spending a lot of time together this year."

James's heart leapt. "So I figure we should bury the hatchet, don't you?" he suggested hopefully.

"Nothing of the sort. I intend to ignore your existence as much as I possibly can, until I can convince Dumbledore to move me back to Gryffindor Tower."

James knew that Lily was only this bitter when she was with him, and it always provoked him, so that he was nasty back. He hated himself when he did this, but he couldn't avoid it! Someone else took over and the James that longed for Lily was put aside.

"Fine. He moved you there. By all means, let him take you away."

"A fine idea, coming from the one who nearly killed me."

"Lily! How can you say that? I never meant for that to happen, and you know it!"

Lily rose angrily and stuck her finger in his face. "Now you listen to me, James Potter. You taunt people, you care for no one but yourself, you are arrogant, stubborn, relentlessly cruel, and if someone says that you were in on a plot that ended up getting my brother killed and me badly hurt, I'm going to believe them!" The incensed girl grabbed his book, tore it in two, and threw the pieces onto the floor as she left the compartment. James could hear mutterings of " . . . don't care what Dumbledore says . . . should have been in Slytherin . . ." James put his head in his hands, defeated.

_

It was a man, a terrified stranger, that reappeared on the balcony. He cowered in the corner, gazing in horror at the one who had brought him there. The man did not turn from the balcony, but spoke in a sharp, cold voiced that chilled the stranger in the corner to the bone.

"You are frightened."

This was not a thought or musing, but a statement that drained him of him courage as if the man were a dementor. He gulped down a breath sharp, clean air. It stung his lungs, and tried to gather himself to proclaim his message in such a way to intimidate his enemy. It came out as a feeble squeak, almost a whisper. "I have come to -"

"You have come to threaten my power before I become a threat to you. I know. So it would be better for both of us for you to keep silent. I will speak.

"The ministry has sent their weakest aurors to nip me in the bud. You have only been out of training for a year. And they think that their babies can conquer me. Good. My plan is working." The man gripped the railing of the balcony so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He spat out his words, rank with hate. "I have power that your ministry can't even dream of. What do you say to that?" He jerked his head as if he were about to turn, but kept facing the horizon.

The prisoner opened his mouth, tried to force out some words. "You'll kill me, then?" He gathered his last shred of sense to try and say something that might just cut the man beneath the surface. "You can't kill our honor, something you'll never have."

The man let out an ice-coated, high-pitched laugh that made the prisoner shudder. "Oh no. I have not spent all these years to gain honor. Why bother, when there is power, and magic to take? I will not kill you now. Oh no, I want to see you beg me to kill you first."

"Why? Why ever?"

"Perhaps I enjoy causing your pain. Perhaps I want you to know my pain. Perhaps I want the ministry to know what's in store for them if they send along another novice." He paused for a moment, holding his breath, examining the sharp edges of his fingernails. "They want to nip me in the bud. They don't realize that my roots have spread too deep to remove I am their tumor, a growth far too deep to remove without damaging that which it inhabits."

The man turned to scrutinize his prey, narrowing his eye and staring down at him while keeping his body and head perfectly erect. His lips curled in a sneer of disgust at the prisoner's whimpering terror.

"Perhaps I will. It doesn't matter to me."

The man took his right hand, wandless and pale, and curled his rigid fingers as if he was pulling something out of his victim, who gave a horrible shudder and went limp, his eyes darting about like a wild animal's. A dark red liquid began seeping out of his pores, dripping from his skin and forming a pool around him on the stone floor of the balcony. In an agonizingly slow, almost imperceptible, flow, his blood drained completely and a final spasm left the dead prisoner motionless and stained crimson.

The man, whose face remained perfectly expressionless, made out of stone, released his fingers, letting go of an invisible ball of energy, and the body burst into red flames. They consumed it and left only ashes in a matter of seconds.

"Scourgify," the man whispered in a voice that resembled the wind that was subtly sweeping the ashes away. The blood dissipated into the stone, leaving no trace that the stranger had ever been.

A figure stepped out of a shadow, passing through the doorway leading to the balcony from the inside of the tower. "My Lord, what news?"

The man looked up, displeased at being interrupted from his concentration. "More ministry interference. They're growing uneasy.

"What is the plan, then?"

"No plan as of yet, Lucius. I have my spy traveling to Hogwarts at this very moment. He will be monitoring the Evans girl and Potter. I still extremely disappointed that you did not succeed in ridding us of them six years ago."

"I know, my Lord. You have shown great mercy to me, and great trust."

"Indeed. And I shan't give you the same opportunity soon. Your time-turner helped me greatly, but your inability to act on the information has been a great setback. The information about Lily Evans and Potter's child is not so shocking as it was when I first heard it, but it still must be ended."

"In good time, my Lord. The two seem quite indifferent to each other already."

"No." The man slammed his fist into the balcony railing, smashing the brittle stone. "You don't understand, Lucius. Things change, people change. And it may just happen in their Seventh year. I have one who is at Hogwarts to end them and their potential child before it is conceived, but not in such a way that makes their peers unite against us. We must break them, break their unity so that they are constantly splitting and regrouping, not even sure within themselves who they are loyal to."

"Of course, my Lord. Is there anything you would have me do?"

"One thing. If my plan fails, there must be security. It is your job to produce an heir that will counter Potter's child, a child born and bred to hate him. Marry someone young, a pureblood. A Black, perhaps - but the fair one, not the dark one. If Potter has such a dark appearance, this child of yours must be his opposite in every way. At the end of this year, marry Narcissa Black. After she has your child, do what you will with her, but before, take care to keep her healthy."

Lucius bowed and took his leave. The man peered at the horizon, watching the train curl over the horizon in the distance, stopping to deliver hundreds of students he couldn't see to a school he couldn't touch.

_

"But Headmaster, you don't understand," Lily pleaded desperately, standing next to James Potter on the opposite side of Dumbledore's desk. The old man, getting on in years with only a slight hint in his gray hair of the auburn that used to reside there.

"I'm sorry, Miss Evans, but the Head Boy and Head Girl must share a tower. It is a precedent that has not been broken for centuries, and I will not be one to break it because of a silly quarrel on a train."

"But Headmaster--"

He raised a hand to silence her. "No buts, Miss Evans. I've told you my decision. Now, if you don't mind, I have many things to which I must attend. Please return to your dormitory, where perhaps the two of you can work out your differences." The familiar twinkle lit up his eyes, and Lily witnessed the return of the expression she so despised: the face that told her that he knew more than he was telling, more than she could ever know.

James turned to leave, and Lily followed him unwillingly. Once they had left Dumbledore's office, Lily turned to him and fiercely attacked him with her words.

"Why didn't you help me back there? Two are stronger than one, you know that! You know that every time you pick on poor Severus, every time your self-absorbed little gang teases someone because they're too weak to defend themselves. You couldn't even stand up for me in there. You can't do anything that you won't benefit from!" Lily stood in a rage, towering over James, but he easily matched the fury in her eyes.

"That's just fine and dandy! You can accuse me all you like, Miss Lily, but there's no use denying that you aren't perfect either! You constantly harass me, accuse me of things I've never done, and hurt people that don't need to be hurt because you think you can read their feelings better than they can! You have no right digging into their precious business when no asks you. So get - out - of - mine!"

Lily, green eyes wide and penetrating, said nothing for a moment, recovering from the impact of his words. Suddenly, without warning, she slapped him, her hand moving faster than his brain could receive the pain. She was already flouncing down the hallway towards their dormitory when he felt the sting of the blow flooding his cheek.

He strode away, not towards the tower he shared with Lily, but to the Gryffindor common room where students were still entering the portrait from the feast in the Great Hall. He followed a few fourth years through the portrait hole and quickly found Sirius and Peter in armchairs near the fireplace.

"I'm telling you, Peter, the only reason James and Evans aren't together is that - Why, hallo, James!" Sirius welcomed him with a huge, false grin. "How doth thee goeth this good eve?"

James waved his best friend off and sat down in the chair Peter was occupying. "Move, Pettigrew." Peter rose obediently.

"Good God, James, what happened to your face?"

James eyed Sirius sullenly. "Evans, that's what. We had a row and she slapped me."

Sirius waggled his eyebrows. "Feisty wench."

"Shut your trap, Padfoot. Honestly, I thought being dorm-mates with Lily would help things, but everything seems to be going downhill."

"Cheer up, mate. At least you'll have Quidditch tryouts tomorrow to take your mind off things."

James rolled his eyes. "Spending all afternoon watching cocky second-years fall off their brooms? Oh yes, lots of fun."

_

Cynthia sat down next to Lily. "Classes have only been going o for a day, and I already feel like crap," she said as she dumped a huge spoonful of potatoes on her plate.

"Woah, woah, woah," Lily paused, holding Cynthia's hand to stop the flow of food. "What happened to your diet?"

"What diet? Why would I need a diet when my life is falling apart? This has been the worst day of my life."

<>

"I seriously doubt that. Remember that day in second year when you fell into the lake and giant squid--"

"Ate all my schoolbooks, yes, I remember, and you're really not helping me." Cynthia buried her head in her hands.

"Sorry. Okay, tell me what happened."

"First of all, I got the wrong schedule this morning, and I humiliated myself showing up at fourth-year transfiguration class. Then, after I got my schedule figured out, I realized that I never bought some of the books I needed for classes this year. And at lunch, a couple of goody-two shoes come up and ask me if I'm dating Remus. I say yes, and they start laughing, as if they know something I don't know!"

Lily repressed to urge to say that yes, there was something she didn't know about Remus. She let her friend continue her rant.

"--And then I want to owl my parents, to let them know I got here safely, and my owl isn't in the owlery! I give up. Give me that muffin; maybe I'll choke on all that starch."

Lily held the muffin out of reach. "Come on, Cynthia. Things can't be that bad. At least you have Quidditch practice tonight. Things can't get worse when you're on a broomstick, right?"

Cynthia smiled wryly. "I hope so. Oh God, practice has started, hasn't it? I have to go. I'll see you later, Lil." She snatched the cookie out of Lily's hand and hurriedly left the hall. She arrived at the Quidditch pitch in breathless disarray. She was met with the sight of about twenty students swooping around the pitch on the brooms, being watched closely by James Potter and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Cynthia ran up behind James and tapped him on the shoulder. "Potter, what's going on?"

He didn't turn to look at her, but kept facing straight ahead at the pitch. "We're having tryouts for a new keeper."

"But, James -" She waved her arms in front of his face. "Hello! Earth to James!" He turned to look at her, annoyed. "I'm keeper."

"Yes, and you also managed to block about one goal per game last year. It lost us nearly every match!"

Cynthia shifted uncomfortably, arms crossed. "So? Why so grouchy, Potter? Are you getting a reserve keeper?"

"No," he explained as if she was a very small child. "We're replacing you. You're off the team, Lipton. Have a nice day."

Cynthia watched him turn back to watching the amateurs swooping around the pitch. Have a nice day, he had said. Could this day possible get any worse?

"You can't just kick me off the team," Cynthia pleaded in desperation. "Give me another chance! I'll make it up to you!"

"No, Lipton. I am the captain - I can do whatever I like, thank you. So I'd appreciate it if you'd leave the pitch and let us get on with the tryouts." He gave Cynthia a small push back towards the castle. "Oh yeah, and tell your friend Evans that she had better lay off of my back."

"Oh, no. You didn't just ruin my day because you're mad at Lily."

"Partially that. Also slightly because you are an incompetent player. But only slightly. Now, off you go. Shoo!" He brushed her off as if she was a bit of dust on a tabletop. Cynthia, bitterly angry, sullenly crept back to the castle, thinking as she walked. It was just too cruel for him to use her like this. She had to do something to retaliate.

_

Bellatrix Black leaned over the railing of the North Tower, letting go of her posture and slumping forwards. She leaned her head on her hand, feeling her pulse in her temple against the skin of her palm. With the other hand, she led the roll of powder to her lips and deeply inhaled. Closing her eyes in contentment, she shut out the world and focused on herself. She was back at Hogwarts, where she could be happy, where she knew so many nooks and crannies that no one else could ever find.

Beneath her, the darkened Scottish landscape rolled like waves in a stormy sea for miles and miles. Contented, naïve children had strolled along over the empty grounds just hours ago. Most had spent many years at this school, and yet knew nothing about life, or about sorrow. Most of them despised the Blacks, hated purebloods because of the purity and truth they represented. Bellatrix took in her own thoughts calmly, her brain more focused on the darkening clouds than what happened below them.

Shedid not turn, but heard a rustle behind her, the sound of robes rubbing against other clothing. Light footfalls told her that the person was coming closer, but she did not react, only stared blankly ahead, sucking in the sweet smoke.

"I thought you might be up here . . . alone."

His deep, rolling voice filled her with apprehension. "Loneliness becomes those who have no prouder feature," she answered in a low monotone, the beginning of an old code she had been taught long ago.

"Yet merciless evil beckons the helpless creature," he finished. Bellatrix lost all uneasiness, knowing once again that she was on top of the situation.

"So you're the one He sent," Bellatrix summarized, turning to observe the man standing before her. It was too dark to see him properly, but she could discern that he was rather tall and thin, with light hair and a sinister face that harbored anger somewhere deep inside. She leaned back onto the railing, tracing the wispy smoke thread from the roll of powder, up to the heavens, and dissipate into the night sky. "I was waiting for you."

"Yea? What's that you got there?" he asked, gesturing to the roll of. Bellatrix extended her arm to hand it to him. The man took it with ease, and put it to his mouth, breathing it in with a long sigh. 'I was told I would meet another of His servants here."

"Who are you?"

"Wouldn't it be better if you didn't know? They call me Romulus Filardi here, and that's how it will stay. I'm covering as Remus Lupin's twin. What a thin excuse. It seems so flimsy, so easy to see right through."

"Yes, especially since you obviously don't naturally look like him.." Bellatrix grabbed the roll away from him and threw it onto the stone floor, crushing it with her shoe.

"That's not a problem. I have the Polyjuice potion so I can look just like him."

"If you think you can make enough Polyjuice to last you the entire year as well as complete your task, you're even crazier than me." She drew another roll out of her robes and lit it with her wand. Inhaling a long puff and exhaling into the clear night air, she waited for his answer.

"And the Dark Lord knows this. He has taught me many things, many things that you will never learn at this school. I learned a spell that prolongs the effects of the Polyjuice potion. I began by administering it to myself every hour, but now I need only perform it every three hours or so. By the end of the year, I may be able to go for days without renewing the spell."

"He must find great responsibility in you to entrust you with a charm of his own invention."

"You must put great trust in me to be alone with a bounty hunter up here."

"A bounty hunter? One who hunts for money must not place much value in loyalty."

"But I am loyal to the Dark Lord, above all others. As you are. But we are loyal to no others. Not even each other."

"No, not even each other. I'm not even loyal to myself anymore, Romulus."

_

Harbored anger filled the Seventh Years during the first few weeks of the term. James and Lily wouldn't look at each other, never mind exchange civilized conversation. Cynthia was still angry at James, still waiting for the perfect opportunity to hurt him. It presented itself in Potions on the third Monday of classes.

Cynthia and Lily were partnered together to make a difficult potion called the Lycanthropy Elixir. It was supposed to change a fully transformed werewolf back into human form, although it would be extremely painful for the werewolf. Lily doubted that the potion could be of much use, considering the difficulty of getting a wolf to drink a potion in the first place.

"Right . . . . so we need to add the essence of a werewolf in human form. Where are we supposed to get that?" Cynthia inquired, confused. Lily glanced over to Remus's table, where he was pulling out a hair and adding it to his own potion with an ironic grin.

"Just use some of mine," Lily muttered, plucking out a thin, auburn strand from her scalp. She dropped it in the potion without ceremony and watched it turn a putrid yellow.

"That can't be right," Cynthia mused. "It's supposed to be bright yellow. This is more of a muddy color."

"I know. It's because I'm not a werewolf, but it's the best we have. Besides, no one else has the right color either." She gestured around the room, pointing to the various colors that the other students had created. They ranged from a foul green to a muddy brown. Only one cauldron was the bright, pure yellow that the potion required. Lily raised her eyes in alarm, trying to catch the attention of Remus or James, to warn them of the impending danger.

"That's funny," Cynthia commented. "Look at James's. It's--"

"Cynthia," Lily interrupted, "What's this?" She held up Cynthia's Charms textbook and pointed to the name written on the inside cover.

"Oh, that's the guy I was telling you about, remember? He was the security person in the Edinburgh airport." She absent-mindedly began slicing the asphodel into smaller and smaller pieces, until it was so fine that she couldn't slice in half any more. "He wasn't the most polite person, but I said that I would call him. So maybe I'll - " She stopped in the middle of her sentence. "Yes! Oh, that's perfect! Get him back in the same way he got me."

"What are you trying to say?" Lily asked, trying to puzzle out her meaning.

"Oh nothing. It's just that James kicked me off the Quidditch team and I want to get revenge somehow."

"You sound so casual about it! What are you going to do?"

"Well, you see, he kicked me off because he wanted to punish you for fighting with him," she began, ignoring the look on Lily's face. "So I want to get him back by hurting one of his friends. Taste of his own medicine, I suppose."

"I wish you would let me handle anything that had to do with James, especially since it's about me this time," Lily requested, adding the asphodel in pinches, sending up cirrus clouds of steams as they dissolved.

"I know, but this is something I really want to do. That Quidditch team was one of the best things going for me, and I don't want to ruin it. Especially since it means, um . . . " Cynthia trailed off as she covertly tapped the name in her textbook, shooting Lily a giddily suggestive glance. Lily threw in the last of the asphodel and motioned in confusion and outrage. Cynthia giggled.

Lily placed her hands on her friend's shoulders and directly faced her. "Listen, Cynthia. I know Quidditch was great for you, but isn't Remus going just as well? Do you want to ruin this so soon?"

"I won't ruin it! You're making this into such a big deal, and it's not. I'm just going to have a little bit of fun and make that bastard a little but sorry." She watched James Potter accusingly.

By then, the two boys' cauldron had gotten a considerable amount of curious attention, even from the professor, a middle-aged, perpetually frustrated woman named Sofie Silmera. James looked around the room, noticing for the first time that their potion was the only one that was the right color. James poked Remus and whispered in his ear. Remus looked worried, and hurriedly asked James what he should do.

"I don't know!" he replied. "Knock over the cauldron or something."

"Are you mad? They'll hang me! You knock it over."

James shook his head. "Fine. Just add an ingredient we weren't supposed to put in and it should be fine."

Neither of them noticed Professor Silmera sidling over to inspect the day's work. James dug some lionfish spines out of his bag, and unceremoniously dumped them into the cauldron. Professor Silmera arrived at the cauldron at the exact moment that they hit the liquid, dissolving and producing a gust of gray smoke. In an instant, the smoke had migrated towards the ceiling and dissipated, passing through Professor Silmera's face and hair to do so. In its wake, it left a fine powder on the furious woman's face that was a color of the muddy brown that James had only seen before when he had eaten too many potato-and-lemon drop sandwiches and thrown up all over Sirius's house, which had not gotten him an invitation back. The powder was supposed to be yellow, but mixing with the angry purple that the professor's face was rapidly transforming into, it seemed to have turned a revolting brown color and give off the odor of rotting eggs. Remus stared at his feet, and James tried to stifle an incredibly loud giggle.

Professor Silmera's voice simmered like the smoking cauldron before her. "You - you rascals! What were you trying to do, boil my face off? Making this potion incorrectly could have too many negative consequences to count! This - this - reckless, thoughtless waste of ingredients--"

Remus hung his head an approached her, trying to get her to quiet down. "Professor, I'm sorry, but my lionfish spines spilled on the floor and I--"

"Complete rubbish, both of you! I'm assigning you both detentions for eight o'clock tonight, and you'd better be there on time before I assign you hoodlums another one." The professor stopped a moment to gather herself and straighten her glasses, gazing bemusedly at the clock at the back of the potions dungeon and the expectant students watching her.

"Oh yes, erm, class dismissed. Each of you bring a sample of your potion up to me--yes, very good, Miss Evans. Have a lovely time at Hogsmeade this weekend!" The woman's last remark was barely heard over the babble of students hurriedly scampering to escape the cold, dank air of the dungeons and bask in the warm sunlight of the grounds. Cynthia patted Lily on the arm as if to say, 'Here I go!'

Cynthia hurried to catch up with Remus as he left the dungeons. He was far ahead of her, walking up the stone steps and coming into the bright sunlight. It hurt her eyes and she paused to shield her face with her hand. The late-September sunlight had a mulled quality, a body to the air that warmed and spiced those who walked within it. The sunlight felt less like the piercing, white brightness of winter or the soft, yellow pat of butter that lit the summer skies, and already more of an autumn quality. The light was soft and gently spicy, like apple cider with a stick of cinnamon.

Remus stood at the window to admire the beauty of Hogwarts in the autumn. The other marauders never took much time to stop and observe. Everyone was always so busy moving, rushing, planning, that they never took the time to see things as they were. Maybe if everyone just took a small bit of time to just try and see, without all the masks they donned for some reason or other, things could become clear.

Remus heard someone call his name, and turned, exasperated to be interrupted, to see Cynthia running up to him, an excited blush in her cheeks and joyful sparkles in her eyes.

"Remus! I've been running after you--" She paused to take a breath. "All the way from the potions dungeon! Where do you have to be in such a hurry?" He prepared some absentmindedly annoyed response, proper punishment for her interruption. She looked him dead in the eyes. He didn't deliver it.

Remus watched her irregular, static breathing, electricity sizzling from her irises to his. Watching her smile at him breathlessly, he remembered why he liked her so much. She was just so charmingly bubbly - well, no. Bubbly wasn't the right word. Bubbles were transparent and self-important, so round and plump and jolly that they irritated everyone they came across. And with such stout egos, they could burst and run crying to those who breathed life into them in the first place after barely beginning a conversation. No. Cynthia was definitely not a bubble. She was sweet and rosy, like the autumn air, and beautiful to his eyes, even if his friends didn't see why he was so infatuated.

"Well, anyway, I wanted to know if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend."

"What day would that be?"

"Uh, the twenty-seventh, I think. It's tomorrow, you know. That's a Saturday," she over-exaggerated. Remus waved her away.

"I know, I know. Uh, I don't think I'll be able to. I'm really not feeling well as it is, and I'll probably be worse by tomorrow. Sorry, Cynthia. Let's meet up on Sunday and you can tell me what a fun time you had without me."

"As long as you're suffering, I won't have any fun. But if you insist. You seem to get sick a lot, don't you?"

Remus coughed into his hand. "Yeah. I used to get very sick as a child and I guess it weakened me somewhat."

Cynthia nodded sympathetically, and placed her hand on his arm. "Oh, that's too bad. Why don't you go talk to Lily and see if she can help you at all? She's astounding with healing and charms. If she can't fix you up for tomorrow, maybe she can help in the long run."

Remus nodded, a germ of comfort forming in his mind. It had been a long time since he had talked to Lily about his lycanthropy, and he had felt as though she truly could understand what he was saying. In the six years since, there were so many things that had happened and so many things he had to beware of that he felt he needed a good friend. It felt strange that James and Sirius could never take it as any more important than an overly dangerous game. And Cynthia - well, he didn't want to tell Cynthia. Yet. Of course he would tell her soon. He just needed to work up the courage, because he knew - hoped - she would understand.

"Yeah. I think I'll do that. Thanks, Cynthia." He leaned over and kissed her softly, and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling his robes and his bag as she returned it. "I'll see you later in the common room."

"Bye, Remus. I'll see you." He walked away, and Cynthia stuffed the "borrowed" Marauder's Map into her own bag, hoping that it wouldn't miss Remus's too much.

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