Professor Lupin's Apprentice

III: The Boar's Head

We made our way down the street, the glow from a few streetlights and the waning quarter moon lighting our path. The Boar's Head public house was the nearest to the library, and I quietly steered Professor Lupin toward the establishment. He talked more about the classification of magical creatures as we walked, in hushed tones, because people were still awake in the surrounding houses. It was only a bit after seven, after all, but knowing the Boar's Head's regular customers, his assessment was correct: They would be rapidly on their way to inebriation.

As we entered the pub, most heads turned in our direction. I was reasonably well known there, if not an avid patron, but the customers didn't turn to see me. They were more interested in the man on my arm. I had in my tenure received more than my share of beer-influenced proposals from Boar's Head regulars, and I thought that would no doubt cause some friction for the handsome stranger accompanying me. To my surprise, however, the other patrons gave Professor Lupin a quick once-over and turned hastily back to their mugs. I thought it seemed as if they were afraid of him and then dismissed this as silly. Why would a roomful of strong, stocky Scottish farmers fear a scrawny—by comparison, at least—teacher? I mentally shrugged as we headed toward an isolated booth in one of the corners.

When we sat, Professor Lupin rummaged through pockets, presumably looking for money. I felt suddenly embarrassed for him. Because of his professional manner in the library, I had all but forgotten the state of his clothes and the assured poverty this indicated. His almost futile search ended in locating two one-pound coins and several pence, but no bills. I say almost futile because he fished two large gold coins from one pocket, only to quickly replace them.

"What are those?" I asked.

"That's foreign money," he answered, shoving them back into his pocket. "Won't buy anything here, I'm afraid. I thought I had a five pound note here somewhere..."

He'd laid his left arm on the table as he dug in the right rear pocket of his trousers. When I placed my hand over his, he looked at me suddenly, startled.

"Let this be my treat," I said gently.

"No, I couldn't possibly," he said, pulling his hand away and searching his other rear trouser pocket.

"Please?" My voice sounded more pitiful than I'd intended. I certainly didn't want to hurt his pride any more than it already had been. Thinking quickly, I added, "We can call it a deposit."

He regarded me strangely with one raised eyebrow. "A deposit on what?"

"Why, tutoring, of course!"

He sighed as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. A small smile grew on his lips then finally reached his eyes. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Professor Lupin."

I suddenly wondered why he'd persisted so in asking me to have dinner with him when he obviously couldn't afford to buy a meal even for himself. In the end, I supposed he was so desirous of my company that the thought of payment had never entered his mind. At first I was flattered. The dim light of the pub then showed me all too clearly what the bright fluorescent lighting of the library failed entirely to reveal: the gaunt face, the sunken eyes, the hopeless expression. It came over me in a flash. I realised Professor Lupin had not eaten all day, probably not for a few days.

I felt the sting of tears brimming in my eyes and tried to repress the sudden rush of emotion. The perfect opportunity presented itself when the barmaid arrived, and I turned toward her, discreetly wiping my eyes. I discovered I was hungrier than I thought when we'd left the library. We ordered fish and chips and two pints of bitter. By the time she had left, I was more in control of myself.

"Please forgive my being so bold," I said, "but I am concerned about you. What, exactly, is your situation, Professor Lupin?"

His head dropped as he stared down at the table, biting his lip. After a long moment, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Are you unemployed?"

He nodded.

"For how long?"

"Eleven months."

I shook my head sadly. What a shame such a nice man couldn't find work, although I couldn't imagine where he could find work with just an extensive knowledge of magical creatures in his mental toolbox. I wondered what other qualifications he might possess and how to best go about finding him a position. Perhaps I knew of some avenue he'd not yet attempted. He seemed to be out of touch with things considered quite normal to most—such as ink pens and Mark Twain—so I was certain I would know of opportunities he did not. For now, however, I could think of an easier way to help him, if only I could get him to agree.

"Can I help?" I asked.

"You are buying me dinner," he said with a shrug.

"No, I mean apart from that, can I help?"

He shrugged again. "What are you proposing?"

"I'm proposing that you take me on as an apprentice. I don't have much, but I do have a little savings. I can pay you enough to buy three meals a day, at least. Do you have a place to stay?"

Without looking up, he muttered, "Yes."

"So, what do you say?"

Finally he met my eyes. "I suppose you'll want to know my qualifications now, won't you?"

I shook my head. "That can wait. What do you say?"

He sighed again and seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. This time, I found his furrowed brow not attractive but worrisome. I so hoped he'd let me help him, if I could.

"All right."

"Good ... Now that we've got that out of the way, let's have a pleasant dinner."

He smiled wryly, folding his arms over his chest.

"I know, I know," I said wearily, holding up one hand to keep him from voicing the quips his expression spoke ever so clearly. "I said I wasn't going to have dinner with you. Oh well! I've been proven wrong before."

Our food and beer arrived shortly, and Professor Lupin ate ravenously. I forgave him this, since it was likely his first meal in a while. He was certainly eating too rapidly to discuss anything safely. I imagined he'd never heard of the Heimlich manoeuvre either, but I wasn't too eager for him to learn about it the hard way, so I didn't talk to him much whilst he ate. When he finished his first pint, I ordered him another. His mouth was too full to object politely, and I smiled at the advantage I had over him. After we'd finished our food, and sat drinking our beer, he suddenly grasped his stomach.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Just a little cramp," he ground out through gritted teeth. "Nothing to worry about. It happens sometimes when I eat too fast."

"No, it doesn't," I said, fixing my eyes upon him knowingly. "It happens sometimes when you haven't eaten for days, doesn't it?"

His gaze fell to the table again. "How did you know?" he asked at last, in a whisper.

"I've done some volunteer work at a mission. When did you eat last?"

"Five minutes ago," he said, meeting my gaze and grinning. "Weren't you here?"

"I meant before that."

"Tuesday," he said softly, looking away again.

My jaw dropped. "But ... it's Friday!"

I could tell he was smirking, even though he still didn't look directly at me. "Can't put anything past you, can I?"

"Why haven't you eaten if you're carrying around gold coins?" I asked, leaning forward on the table.

He shook his head. "I told you, they're foreign. I can't buy anything with them here."

"What are they?"

"Galleons."

"May I see them?"

Since I was now more or less his benefactor, I'm sure he felt compelled. He frowned at me, removed the coins from his pocket grudgingly, and handed them over. I'd never seen anything like the symbols on the coin's face and rear—not that I could tell which was which. The thing that impressed me most was their weight.

"This has to be almost a full ounce of gold," I whispered. "Why is it that you can't buy food again?"

He shrugged. "There isn't a bank outside of London that exchanges them."

I got the same feeling I had before—that he wasn't telling me something—but again I let it go. Our fragile friendship didn't need my intruding into his business too much. After all, he had a right to some secrets, and his previous expression showed I had already been pushing the limit.

"Well, you don't need a bank," I said, returning the coins. "Just a jewellery store. Any jeweller who makes his own settings or does repairs would be happy to buy these off you."

"You think so?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm almost certain of it."

"Is there a jeweller in this town who would?"

"There are a couple, I think, but you'll have trouble finding them on your own. Meet me here tomorrow for lunch, and I'll take you afterward."

"You don't have to do this, Miss Rhoades. Really, I am a grown man and quite capable—"

"I don't mind at all, Professor. I'm glad to help."

He smiled warmly. "You are very kind."

I wasn't sure if it was the beer or the lighting, but I had an overwhelming urge to kiss him just then. He must have read the look in my eyes, because he drew my hand to his lips and held it to his cheek, eyes closed. I emitted a small gasp, savouring the warmth of his skin against mine. Tears welled in my eyes again as I turned my hand to touch his face. I wasn't sure which consumed me more: attraction or pity. The two seemed inextricably mingled. When he opened his eyes and looked into mine, a shiver passed through me. His eyes were of the deepest hazel, with a marked ring of dark green around the iris, and absolutely beautiful. I then wondered why I hadn't noticed before.

Taking my hand away slowly, I said, "I should probably go, before I make you an offer I might regret."

"I would hope you wouldn't regret offering," he said gently. "But I am too much of a gentleman to accept." He smiled warmly again, which made me want to melt. "May I at least walk you home?" His eyebrows rose in anticipation of my answer.

"Yes, I think I'd like that," I said, returning his smile.

I stood and pulled a five- and a ten-pound note from my purse for the meal and drinks. Professor Lupin rose also, placing his hand on my back. His touch was wonderful and searing, as if he were projecting all the warmth of his body into me through his palm. We attracted less attention leaving the pub than we had entering, and for this I was grateful. Outside he again offered his arm, and I was slightly dejected, since I'd so enjoyed the feel of his hand on my back. But I accepted his arm just the same. After all, that was such a gallant gesture, and he was nothing if not a gentleman. As we approached my home, his attractively curious expression returned.

"You live in a boarding house?" he asked.

"I'm surprised you recognised it as one," I said. "After all, ink pens were an enigma."

"Well, the sign out front says 'Boarding House.' I can read, you know."

"Touché."

"Are there any vacancies?"

"A couple. Thinking of moving in, are you? You'll need a job first."

"I thought I had a job, as of tonight."

I smiled back at him over my shoulder as we climbed the interior staircase.

"Something about this evening has renewed my sense of optimism," he said, wistfully.

"Something or someone?"

"Perhaps both ... I expect you don't have much privacy in a place like this?"

"I have all the privacy I need," I answered. "I've the top floor all to myself."

"That must cost a fortune," he said, marvelling.

I shrugged. "It would ... if I didn't own the place."

His eyebrows rose and he smiled.

"Left to me by my aunt when she died three years ago. She was a widow with no children. I have cooking and cleaning staff, so it practically runs itself. I couldn't ask for a better home or income."

"So that's why you asked if I had a place to stay ... I didn't think—"

"That a nice girl like me would ask a man she'd known less than two weeks to move in with her?"

"Precisely."

"You're right, I wouldn't have ... Well, this is mine," I said, stopping on the last landing. "Would you care to come in for some tea?"

"Thank you, no. It's late, and I really should be going."

"Suit yourself," I said, pulling another fiver from my purse. "Here."

He raised both hands to object.

"No, I insist. So you can get some breakfast tomorrow, and I'll buy your lunch. I assure you you'll be able to pay me back tomorrow afternoon ... If I'll even accept ... I'm not certain I will." I fixed him with my most determined stare, and his eyes narrowed.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

I smiled. "And proud of it."

"Very well," he said, accepting the note and pocketing it. "Good night, Miss Rhoades."

He turned to walk down the stairs, and I had an urge to run after him. This resulted in my abruptly shouting, "Professor?"

Just short of the first step, he turned to face me. "Yes?"

I walked quickly toward him and wrapped my arms about his waist. He returned my embrace, and I sighed as he ran his fingers through my hair and kissed my forehead softly. When I nestled my face against his neck, the oddest thought occurred to me. Even if he hadn't eaten, he still managed to keep well groomed. Oh, he smelt wonderful! I listened to his heartbeat, slightly faster than calm, and his breathing.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Miss Rhoades?"

I put a finger to his lips.

"No, really, I must know ... why—?"

"I knew you were too much of a gentleman to make the first move."

"Ah," he said, and pulled me closer.

"And I think you can call me Melinda now."

"Only if you'll call me Remus."

"It's a deal."

We held one another for a few more minutes, when he said, "I should go."

"If you must," I replied, grasping his hand as he pulled away. "You are welcome to move in here—the boarding house, I mean—if you'd like."

"I'll give it some thought," he said distractedly, but I could already see the mental cogs working away. He was seriously considering it.

"Are you sure you won't have some tea?"

"No, but I will take a rain check. I still have a long walk ahead of me tonight."

"Do you need a lift?"

He shook his head, smiling. "I'll manage."

With a wave, he started down the stairs. I watched his retreating back with a smile and a sigh. As I turned the key to my door, I thought how strange it was meeting a man like him so late in my life. It was almost as if he was the man whom I'd been waiting for. I'm not exactly an unattractive woman, but the few men I'd dated thought my interests a touch too strange to become seriously involved. Since moving to this out of the way town, I'd raised more than a few eyebrows with my interests. Not that anyone thought I was a practising witch. The natives knew my diversions were only a hobby, but they mostly kept their distance, except for the drunks at the Boar's Head. Still, now I'd met someone who knew a great deal about magic, someone who practised magic for a living—even of the well was a tad dry at the moment—I felt my life would never be the same.

When I'd mentioned paying Professor Lupin enough to buy food, I'd meant that, and I could comfortably afford that. But soon I had a better idea: I'd offer to let him stay in a room in my boarding house free of charge, which was better than buying food because meals would be included. I'd see if my kitchen staff couldn't fill in some of the lines in his haggard face. Some of the best cooks in the county work in my kitchen, I am proud to say, so I resigned—if I had anything to say about it—we'd have Remus J. Lupin back to himself in no time.