The Eighth Weasley

Notes: I wrote some of this absolutely months ago and finally got around to slotting it into the sequence of chapters (although I did have to adapt a Dawn-esque sequence into it). I just liked the whole idea of the pair of characters in this and it certainly made it easier to manipulate the plot in the direction I wanted to go.

Plus the cuteness!

All hail the cuteness!

Oh and if you haven’t seen The Chamber of Secrets yet, I command you to go and see it now! Leave the fic and go and see the best film in AGES! I’ve seen it 3 times already and I plan to see it several more at least. It is so freaking GOOD! (and the little thing after the credits is so cute! I think its funny, even if no one else does)

And now, I know what Malfoy Senior is like a la Jason Isaacs... see me twitch in a drooling heap on the floor. Add Rickman’s Snape, Coulson’s Riddle and (albeit a tiny bit older) Felton’s Draco to the mix and I’m literally senseless for hours! Guuuuuuuh!

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"Omigod! This is so cool!"

Duncan Cameron, the brown-haired Gryffindor fourth year who had been assigned as Dawn Summers’ companion for her first day in class, flashed a grin at her. "Ye really say that a lot, don’t ye?"

The pair were walking up from the Great Hall, on their way to Defence Against the Dark Arts, which the brunette was looking forward to, just because she hadn’t had a chance to meet Professor Lupin yet.

Duncan was one of the first ones that had volunteered when Professor Granger had asked for someone to show Dawn around and the American muggle had been pleased to find out that he was cute and had a way too cute Scottish accent.

He was one of the few boys of her age who was taller than her, with a shaggy mop of dark brown hair, brilliantly blue eyes that seemed very pale compared to his tanned, brown as a berry face.

Apparently, he also played as one of the Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

He kind of made her think of a combination of Harry, Ron and one of the Weasley twins, but she didn’t know which. He had Harry’s kinda look and attitude, with Ron’s friendly grin and from the twins side of things...

Pranks.

Lots of them.

"Yeah? And?" She gave him her best petulant look, which melted away into a grin when he snickered at her. "Well, it is cool! I mean I’m at Hogwarts! School for witches and wizards!"

"Aye," Duncan raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Its still just a school."

"Just a school?" she echoed. "JUST a school? Duncan! It’s Hogwarts!"

"And?"

"AND?!?"

Blue eyes twinkled at her. "What?"

"Oh, you...you...boy!"

"Glad to see ye noticed," he remarked, nodding into the classroom. "And this is where we’re headed, Miss Summers," She arched a brow at him. "All righ’, all righ’, then Dawn."

"Thank you, Duncan," she said with mock-sweetness, following him into the room which was empty but for the teacher writing on the blackboard, behind the desk at the far end of the room.

A dozen rows of old-fashioned, wooden desks crossed the room with an aisle down the middle, which Duncan promptly lead her down, towards the back of the teacher, who turned as they approached.

He was a tired-looking man, who Dawn recognised immediately. Greying sandy hair flopped over a forehead that was lined with premature age and weariness, but his pale blue-grey eyes were alert and shining with energy his body - clad in patched and frayed robes - didn’t seem capable of possessing.

"Ah, Cameron," Lupin murmured, his eyes moving from the boy to Dawn. She saw the barely perceptible lift of one of his eyebrows, as he studied her, then he smiled and held out a hand. "Miss Summers."

"God! Doesn’t anyone use first names here?" she rolled her eyes, but shook his hand anyway. "Can you...you know...call me Dawn? I’m not real used to all that Miss Summers stuff. It makes me sound way old."

"I’m sure I can try that, Dawn," Lupin’s tiny smile widened a little. "Now, perhaps you would like to sit with Mr Cameron. I’m sure he’ll be more than willing to let you share his books."

Duncan went scarlet and Dawn grinned. "That’d be great."

***

"I know this one! I know this one!" Remus Lupin looked down at the Summers girl in amusement, where she was seated in the second row. She was waving an arm in the air and was practically standing up off the seat. "I know it!"

Several of the other fourth years looked surprised and put out that a muggle was wiping the floor with their general knowledge of demons, but in particular, one kind of demon that they had been discussing.

"Yes, Mi...Dawn?"

"Four of the regular ways of killing a vampire," she replied eagerly, sitting back down, her eyes dancing. "Are a stake through the heart, cutting it’s head off, setting it on fire or making it drink Holy Water!"

"How do you make a vampire drink Holy Water?" one of the Slytherin boys sneered from three rows behind.

"Well, duh, lame-ass," Dawn turned to glare at him. "You make sure he needs to take his meds, then put Holy Water in the glass when he isn’t looking and when he drinks it, he’ll go all dusty."

"As if that kind of muggle trick would work," one of the boy’s neighbours said.

Dawn Summers’ blue eyes flashed and she clenched her hands on the desk in front of her. "It did too work!" she exclaimed hotly, then blushed when she realised all eyes were on her. "She told me all about it!"

"Who?"

"Uh..." An anguished look crossed the American girl’s face, then she glared at the Slytherin boy. "I...I don’t need to tell you, you dork!"

"Miss Summers," Lupin’s calm voice intervened. "Perhaps you could inform give us some more details about the other methods of slaying a vampire. A stake through the heart, for example. Can you describe how that works?"

"But he..."

"Miss Summers," Lupin repeated gently. "I would suggest that you ignore his attempts to aggravate you. Now, we are all on the edges of our seats. How would you go about staking a vampire?"

Dawn looked down, a little embarrassed, her eyes falling on the pencil lying on the desk in front of her, rolling it under her fingers. "I-I did hear of someone who staked a vampire with a number two pencil..."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm-hmm...she got caught by this wacko-girl. My sister doesn’t think I know about it, but I do and they had vampires and..." Lupin sat back with a small smile as the dark-haired girl started to tell the tale he had heard from Willow not so long before, the class riveted.

Even the Slytherins were paying close attention, he was amused to note.

***

"And what, pray tell, are you doing here?"

Dawn blinked up at the tall, glowering black-garbed man. "Uh..." She had so many ideas for witty answers, so many quick come-backs, so many teenagerisms, but now, her mind felt as useful as a bag of cotton wool, black eyes glittering down at her.

"A quiet student...or a stupid one. What a refreshing change," Sarcasm dripped off the words in nigh-visible ropes.

"Hey! I’m not stupid!" Dawn exclaimed.

"That remains to be seen," Snape murmured, folding his arms over his chest. He was blocking the narrow doorway of the dungeon and beyond him, she could see Duncan helplessly shrugging that he couldn’t do anything.

She didn’t really like the idea of being left out in the long, dark corridor, especially without someone to tell her how to get back to the picture that lead up to the room she shared with Willow and Hermione.

"Well?"

"Huh?"

"I asked a question of you, Miss Summers. I would... appreciate an answer."

"Can you...uh...kinda stop glowering for a minute? Its making it kinda hard for me to think"

One dark eyebrow rose a little, as if questioning how she dared to even ask him such a thing. "Miss Summers, my facial expression bears no relation to your inability to form a cognizant thought."

"Uh-huh...have you tried thinking when there’s a creepy big guy doing the loomy, dark and evil thing over you?" She paused, seeming to remember something she had been told about him. "Uh...never mind..."

"Miss Summers, you have not answered the question."

"Uh...well," she stammered, trying to find a rational train of thought, staring down at her feet uncomfortably. "I’m meant to go everywhere with Duncan today and I...uh...I guess since he...he...uh...he came down here, I had to come with him."

"Such an enchanting stammer you have..."

Dawn shot an embarrassed glare up at him, but was greeted by an amused gleam in the black eyes. Her arms instinctively folded across her chest in basic glare-posture, her stance almost mirroring his.

So he was toying with her?

Pursing her lips, she glared right back at him. "Let me in."

"Do you have a reason to be present, Miss Summers?" He slowly raised his brows, one side of his mouth lifting in a sneer.

Dawn almost snorted aloud. Hello! One of her best friends was a vampire, for God’s sake! She wasn’t going to be scared of a big, loomy human in a black dress. "You mean apart from hanging out and bugging the crap out of you?" she suggested.

Both sides of his mouth twitched, as if he were about to smile, but he thinned his lips in a line. "Well, well, Miss Summers," he remarked. "It appears that you do have a tongue in your head after all."

"Yeah," She stuck it out at him. "Thee."

"How very mature," he said. "I could well use that in a potion. How would that suit you Miss Summers?"

"I’d like to see you try it," She grinned up at him. She couldn’t help it. This was Snape? He of the terrifying reputation that she had read about? He was just like Spike with greasy black hair and black eyes. Spike had threatened to rip her tongue out on more occasions than she could count, when she pulled faces at him and when he knew Buffy wasn’t listening, which only made Dawn stick it out even more. "But I don’t think Dawn-tongue-soup is gonna be a big seller."

There it was again!

That odd glint in his eyes, as if he was about to smile or even laugh.

"Sooooo..." She tapped a foot impatiently. "You gonna let me in already or do I have to go and cry to Professor Dumbledore that you’re being mean to me?"

Stepping aside, Snape smirked down at her. "I do have need of an assistant, Miss Summers," he murmured for her ears only. "Alas, it may result in you being shape-shifted, but I’m sure you shall be willing to risk it."

"Nuh-uh!" She pointed a finger up at him. "You turn me into anything icky and I will so kick your ass!" He looked down at her, reminding her that she barely reached his shoulder in height. "Okay, maybe your ankle..."

Snape made a dismissive gesture with one callused hand. "Join your classmate, Miss Summers," he said quietly, his eyes boring down on her. "Or I will be forced to have you test my potions. Personally."

As she hurried over to join the nervous-looking Duncan, Dawn shot a smirk back at Snape, as he stormed towards the front of the class. It went unnoticed by the rest of the class, who were hastily arranging their potions ingredients.

Sweeping to his desk, he slowly sat, gazing coolly at her.

Then, to her surprise, he inclined his head with the barest suggestion of a smile and looked away from her, at the register.

"What was he sayin’ to ye, Dawn?" Duncan whispered.

"He said he was gonna use my tongue in a potion."

"Oh my gawd..." The boy went whitish green.

Dawn grinned. "I think he was joking, Duncan."

"Dawn, Snape and jokes...they’re two things that never ever meet. Ever."

"Well, if he does take my tongue, I’ll tell you first."

"Dawn..."

"Yuh-huh?"

Duncan shook his head. "Never mind," he replied.

***

"So you had fun?"

"Omigod! Yes!"

Hermione, lying on her belly on her bed, was marking scrolls. She glanced at the bed were Dawn and Willow were sitting, talking about the younger girl’s day. "And you managed to survive potions, unlike the famous missing Weasley?"

"Shut up, Hermi," Willow stuck her tongue out.

"Lowlow..."

"Don’t call me that!"

Hermione gave her roommate a prim look. "Well, then, don’t call me Hermi."

Willow sniffed, looking very put out. "I thought it was kinda cute..." she mumbled, pouting down at Dawn, who couldn’t help laughing, then stuck her tongue out at Hermione again.

The youngest Weasley and Dawn Summers were both clad in their loose pyjamas, Dawn’s red and Willow’s pale green, comparing notes on different classes. Dawn was lying on the bed, looking up at the red head and she grinned.

"I did that to Snape," she said.

"And he didn’t...y’know...go all scary on you?"

"Well, he did say he wanted to use my tongue in a potion..." she said. "But he was joking. I think he thinks I’m funny," she pensively tapped her pen on the cover of her diary. "Funny in a ha-ha way, not funny in a ‘back away slowly and try and find a weapon’ way."

"That makes two of you to get on Snape’s good side, then," Hermione remarked. "I think that has to be some kind of record."

"I bet he’d get on great with Buffy," Dawn muttered. "Her and skanky men in black always seem to get on well...Angel, Dracula..."

"D-Dracula? The Dracula?"

Both Willow and Dawn looked over at the brown-haired witch on the other bed. "I forgot to tell you that Dracula showed up in Sunnydale?" Willow gave the older witch an apologetic look. "I got a letter about him from Buffy...I thought I told you."

"No...no, you never mentioned it..." Hermione looked a little stunned. "Dracula is real? I mean, I knew vampires existed, but I never knew that Dracula was a real one, especially since he was so famous..."

"That’s why he went to Sunnydale," Willow grinned broadly. "Because Buffy was almost as famous as him in the demon world. He had to try and beat her, to show that he was the ultimate King-of-Badness. She staked him twice and she still doesn’t know if he’s gone."

"Speaking of gone, where’s Oz?" Dawn inquired.

Willow nodded towards the window, where the moon was peeking through a chink in the thick, dark drapes that shielded the lighter gauzy ones. "Full moon tonight, so he thinks he’ll be a bit safer being away from us."

"There’s an understatement if ever I heard one," Hermione muttered, rolling up the last of the scrolls and bundling them into her teaching bag. "A werewolf being safe around people..."

"You’ve never seen Oz at the full moon? I thought he had been here a while!" Dawn stared at her. "He’s learned neat new tricks! He doesn’t even have to turn into the wolfy thing anymore."

Hermione looked up, slowly coming onto her knees on the bed. "He can...control the wolf?" she asked faintly.

"Yuh-huh!"

"I-I’ve never seen him do it, but he told me he can," Willow affirmed. "He doesn’t trust himself to be in full control around all of us, though. He didn’t want to risk any of us getting hurt."

"Didn’t he say he was going to see Remus?"

"Yeah..."

"All I have to say is that it’s awfully lucky that Remus has a constant supply of wolfsbane potion," Hermione said seriously. "Or else Oz would probably have a real fight on his hands."

Willow’s face twisted in distress. "Remus wouldn’t hurt Oz..."

"Remus wouldn’t, but the wolf might..."

"Nuh-uh! Remus can control it too!" Dawn protested. "That’s what the wolfsbane potion does. I read about it!" Both older witches looked at her, then Willow started to giggle, a little hysterically. "Wha?"

Pointing at Hermione, the red head laughed. "That’s what she always said!"

"Not always!"

"Most of the time!"

"But I’m right," Dawn interrupted again. "Wolfsbane potion means his mind stays in control. Oz’ll be fine and he’ll tell Professor Lupin how to do the no-wolfy-thing and everything’ll be great!"

"You...you think so?"

Dawn nodded. "Definitely."

***

Carefully pushing open the door of the office, Oz’s face was washed in a strange sheen of blue from the full moon, through the window. He looked around the room, immediately spotting the form of the man he had come to see.

A large desk stood near the left wall, the shelves on the opposite wall piled with all manner of books and files. A rug was spread on the main part of the wooden floor, a couple of upturned seats pushed into the corner out of harm’s way.

It was on that rug that the man he had come to visit lay.

The large werewolf was lying on his belly on the floor, his muzzle resting on his forepaws. The moonlight played across the fur of his back as it rose and fell with each breath Lupin took.

He looked like he was asleep, at peace, his whiskers twitching occasionally. His bushy tail swept from side to side on the rug, his claws making soft clicking noises on the wooden floor as he stirred.

"How’s it going?" Oz spoke softly.

His assumption that Lupin was - in fact - awake proved to be accurate. Pain-filled amber eyes slowly flickered opened and the wolf’s head rose, staring up at the youth at the door.

Lupin’s jaw dropped, revealing twin rows of yellowish fangs and his head swung sharply to look out at the full moon that was gleaming through the window, then back at Oz’s face.

Rising slowly, he padded painfully across the room, limping on one forepaw, towards the younger werewolf, circling him curiously.

Halting in front of the rainbow-haired young man, he sank down on his haunches, tilting his head to the side, wishing that he could actually convey all the questions that he longed to ask.

Oz went down on one knee, running a hand over Lupin’s head.

"You want to know why I’m not all fuzzy, right?" The werewolf nodded mournfully, looking down at his own furred limbs. "Tibetan monks."

If he could have, Lupin would have raised an eyebrow.

Instead, though, he looked away from this youth, feeling something strangely akin to shock and anger. Not directed at the boy, but at himself.

Making his way back across the floor, he moved around in a circle, before curling up on the rug, his no-longer wagging tail pulling in tightly against his thigh, reflecting the moroseness that had descended on him.

"You never learned how to, I guess," Oz stood up. "It took a long time," He looked down at the werewolf. Lupin looked away, turning onto his side and staring at the wall opposite him, the moonlight on his face. "Hurt as much as the change at first, but you get used to it."

Shrugging his jacket off, Oz turned and hung it on the peg on the back of the door, then returned his attention to Lupin, who was staring blindly at a knot of wood on the skirting board in front of him.

Crossing the floor, the younger werewolf disentangled one of the chairs from the pile in the corner and placed it on the floor.

Sitting down on it, pulling one foot under his body, he gazed up at the gleaming moon pensively, the multiple panes in the frame making dozens of small images of the white orb dance across the frame and ledge.

"I hated it for a long time. Knowing what was coming," His voice was low, quiet. "I thought about killing myself too. Imagine." He shook his head sadly. "For three nights of Hell a month, I was willing to die."

He fell silent, touching the charms and beads that had been placed along specific lines of his body by his tutor at the monastery. He wore them constantly, to control and contain the wolf.

Sometimes they hurt, like this night, when the moon was at its peak.

Blood often came too, when his body struggled with the beast inside.

Usually, it came from the skin untouched by beads and wards, where the wolf was trying to break through in small areas. He was used to it now, but that did not make it any less painful.

A whimper of pain from the wolf on the floor made him look up, startled by the sound in the silence that had surrounded them.

"Professor Lupin?" The huge shaggy head shook in dissent that anything was wrong, eyes closed. The face turned away from his in an attitude of pain and a struggle not to show it. "Professor?"

A cautioning growl escaped the shuddering wolf.

Ignoring it, Oz knelt quickly and laid his hand on the wolf’s heaving ribcage and frowned slightly. Something told him that no werewolf should ever be as cold as this one was feeling.

"Are you in pain?" he asked softly, looking around for something to cover the shivering werewolf. Lupin nodded slightly, raising a trembling forepaw which was hanging at a very odd angle. "The change happened too soon?" Again, the big wolf nodded to him. "This may hurt."

There was a dull click as Lupin’s bones shifted beneath the youth’s hand and then slipped into place. Lupin whimpered quietly, lowering his paw back to the floor, the pain still throbbing in his limb.

Oz had fallen silent, but for the clicking of beads and charms as he sank back from the werewolf. Looking down at his bloody fingers, he inhaled a shaking breath, recalling the chill he could feel in Lupin’s body.

No wonder the man always looked so ill after the nights of the full moon.

"You’re cold," he said, staring to rise to retrieve the robes hanging on the peg near the door where his own jacket hung, but the Professor’s heavy paw halted him, the wolf’s head shaking. "But you need to stay warmer."

Mentally sighing, Lupin nodded to his patched, tattered and frayed robes that the young man was intending to go and get. Already, they looked like they could be mended no further.

"Your only robes?" The wolf nodded, looking away. His fur rippled as Oz patted his shaking shoulder in a gesture of comfort. It was at the moment that a thought crossed the younger wolf’s mind and he almost smiled faintly, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before.

He loosened the charms at his wrists and ankles, reaching up to deposit them on the chair. The only one that would remain was that at his throat, that prevented his mind from becoming wolfish.

On the floor, Lupin’s ear twitched at a strange crackling sound and he lifted his head, about to struggle to look over his shoulder when he felt a warm, furry form press against his back, the warmth spreading to his own freezing body.

A soft growl against his ear made him start in astonishment.

That boy, that remarkable, quiet young man, had cast aside his ability to be free of the wolf, to keep him - Lupin - warm. He had partaken of the painful transformation just to make sure he wasn’t cold.

A wide, heavily-furred chest pressed against Lupin’s back and he felt limbs wrap around his protectively. For the first time since he had started using the wolfsbane potion, the freezing in his bones seemed to thaw and he felt himself relaxing slowly.

A small bark of gratitude escaped him and he felt Oz’s wolf-like muzzle rubbing reassuringly against his shoulder as he let sleep come, for the first time since he could recall as a werewolf.

Burying his muzzle snugly against Lupin’s shoulder, Oz yawned and - as the moon reached its peak in the clear sky - the beams of light played across two sleeping werewolves, curled together and dead to the world on the floor of the office of the teacher of Defence Against The Dark Arts.

***

When the first fingers of sunlight crept through the windows and softly touched Lupin’s peaceful, sleeping face, he grumbled softly, too comfortable and warm to be bothered to move.

However, it was that very comfort and warmth that made his eyes snap open, as he realised that he was not alone.

A slim, fur-free arm was looped around his body, holding him against a smooth, warm chest. His head was resting on another arm and he could feel his limbs were tangled between those of the younger wolf.

Moving slowly, so as not to wake his companion, the teacher eased himself from the younger werewolf’s protective blanket of an embrace, moving onto his other side to look at the peacefully sleeping teenager.

Rising quickly, the Professor made his way across to his desk, retrieving his wand and conjuring some blankets, returning to place them around the youth, so as not to embarrass him more than was necessary.

Normally, he would savour the warmth of the morning sun on his skin, but now, he dressed quickly in his tattered robes and quickly sat down at the desk. He found himself hoping that the boy was all right, watching, while he tried to force his focus to the essays he had to mark.

Unfortunately, all thoughts of essays fled from his mind when he heard a yawn from the blanket-wrapped figure on the floor and he saw a shock of rainbow hair rising from the snug nest.

"You woke up before me, huh?" the boy remarked, getting to his feet and holding the blankets around his body. "Either that, or you're a very neat werewolf."

"Neat?" Lupin couldn't think of anything else to say, staring at the young boy. How on Earth could he be so relaxed, so calm and so cheerful - or at least he seemed to be so relaxed - after a night of being the wolf?

"Yeah. I've never known any werewolf that could tuck blankets so neatly around somebody with its paws," A suggestion of a smile appeared on the boy's face. "How do you feel, Professor?"

"Me? I-I'm fine, thank you. You?"

Oz looked down at his blanket-wrapped body, then shrugged slightly. "I'm fur-free, so I'm good," Turning, the twenty-one-year-old walked towards the window and peered out at the grounds. "Nice day."

"It is," There was a long silence and Lupin looked down at the papers on his desk, fingering his quill pensively. "Um…Daniel?" The boy was touching the glass, the sun washing over his face. "Daniel?"

"Oh!" Turning, Oz smiled faintly at him. "Sorry, Professor. I haven't been called by that name for a while." He returned to the desk, pulling over one of the seats from the corner and sitting down.

Lupin folded his callused hands on the surface of his desk, staring fixedly at his knuckles for several minutes.

"Daniel, I wanted to ask…that is, if you don't mind me asking you…" raising his eyes, he nervously asked. "Do you think I could learn to control the wolf like you have?"

"It isn't hard once you learn how to, Professor."

"Remus. Please, call me Remus."

The corner of Oz's mouth lifted.

"Remus," He seemed to be testing how the word felt in his mouth. "How about you call me Oz?"

"I-I can do that," Lupin nodded. "Where did..."

"Tibet," Oz replied, pre-empting the question when Lupin fell silent. Somehow, his and Lupin’s minds worked in similar ways and they often found they didn’t even have to wait for the other to finish a sentence.

Willow had found it hugely disconcerting.

"Bit out of the way, isn’t it?"

"Beautiful, though. Mountains...so calming..."

Lupin’s lips lifted slightly. "Like we need it."

"Everyone does," Oz met Lupin’s eyes, as he spoke. "They have a commune there... for ones like us."

There was a long, comfortable silence, during which both men looked towards the window and the sun streaming down onto the wooden floor where they could see the marks of claws in the wood.

"Oz, may I...?"

"Ask away."

"Are you going back?"

Oz nodded once. "The more you study, the more control you have," he said softly. "Kinda like magic, I guess. It gets less painful each time...and there, everything is about the peace...gotta love the peace..."

Lupin smiled, understanding that feeling which was so different to every emotion that tore through him at the full moon, to have a quiet smile returned to him by the young man on the other side of the desk.

"Could I...? That is, if you don’t mind."

The younger werewolf gazed back at him. "It’d be...different. Someone I know. Someone who speaks the same language." He cocked his head. "When?"

"As soon as possible."

"Will you tell them?"

Lupin looked down at his hands that were folded on the desk, the sun glinting off the silver strands of hair on the back of his folded hands. "I would have to. They would need to find someone."

"You want to?"

"If it means I can go without the wolf."

They both fell silent for a moment, then Oz sighed, "Willow..."

"She...she won’t be too pleased?"

"Given. She knows long-distance is hard, but...God. I didn’t want to do this to her again," He released a soft breath, a wrinkle appearing in his smooth brow. "She knew that I would be leaving again. I did too. We pretended it wasn’t going to happen."

Lupin bowed his head. "Shall we tell them?"

Oz nodded, looking a little sad, his pale eyes on his hands, which were resting in his lap. "Best to do it now. It’ll make it harder if we put it off," he sighed. "She deserves more. If I tell her...maybe she’ll find it. With someone else."

The older werewolf could sense the pain that saying those words caused the younger wolf. Despite the young man’s stoic face, he could literally see the young wolf’s heart shattering through his eyes.

Tilting his head, he asked quietly. "You’re sure you want to do this?"

Oz raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, exhaling a long sigh.

"It has to be done," he said quietly. "I can’t stay. I never could. Even if I wanted to, there’s too much of the wolf in me. I can’t make her live with it. I would prefer to explain it now, while we still at least have a friendship than break her heart in the long run. Bitterness isn’t good."

Lupin gave him a sympathetic nod.

"I’ll find Dumbledore. He probably knows already, but I should tell him..."

Together, they rose, Oz returning to his seat to retrieve his clothing, while Lupin made his way to the door.

"See you at dinner?"

Oz nodded, giving him a tired smile.

"Good luck."

"You too."

***

"I-I-I understand."

"Willow..."

Tears spilled from her green eyes down her cheeks that were almost chalk-white, her hands resting limply between his. "You...I thought you had come back...to stay...not to go away again..." she whispered. "But I-I-I guess...I guess if this is important...you should go...do it..."

"I didn’t want to hurt you, Willow, but last night...I saw what I must look like...what I really am, when I saw Remus," Oz’s hands cupped her face. They were sitting on her double bed, sunlight washing in over bother of them. "You...we both know that it can’t work...I’m too much the wolf...you deserve someone...someone normal."

"What if I don’t want normal, Oz?"

"Willow, please..." He brought their foreheads together, closing his eyes. "I want you to have a chance to be happy. To find someone who can love you as much as I do, but who won’t have to be caged...who won’t have this...beast inside them..."

"But I love you, Oz," she whispered, her tears burning against his hands, one of hers coming up to grasp his wrist. "I don’t care about the wolf...you said you can...you control it...you said you can!"

"I did and I can," he agreed softly. "But it is powerful. One day, it will break free and I don’t want you to get hurt when it does," Her other hand rose to touch his face, capturing the tears rolling silently down. "I love you too much for that."

"But I’ll be able to stop you! I will! I-I don’t want you to go, Oz..." Her eyes sought out his desperately. "Please?"

"If you had to," He brought her hands down in his, meeting her tear-filled gaze. His voice was shaking with emotion. "If I did lose control, if I was about to harm you, if nothing else worked, would you be able to kill me?"

"Oz..."

"Would you?" he demanded again, a core of steel in his words.

Willow lowered her eyes, shaking her head. He barely heard her breathe the single word. "No."

A deep silence fell, only broken by the quiet sobs of the red-haired witch.

Leaning forward, Oz brought her bowed head down and touched his lips to her silky mass of flaming hair, his pale eyes pressed closed to stem his tears as he embraced her once more.

"I love you," he whispered softly. "I always will. Never forget that."

Raising her eyes to him, she touched his face, as if memorising every feature, one last time. "I know," she answered, her voice raw and shaking, tears still rolling down her flushed cheeks. "I love you too, Oz. Always."

Capturing her face between his hands, he kissed her once more, her arms wrapping around him as he drew her closer, all their grief and emotion poured into that meeting of their lips.

Slowly, reluctantly pulling back, he tenderly stroked a tear-soaked lock of her red hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering briefly. Both of them smiled wanly at the contact and she tilted her head to kiss his palm as he drew away.

"I love you, Will," he murmured once more, before rising off the bed, his fingertips lingering against hers as he stepped back. Then, turning, he walked from the room without looking back, his shoulders shaking as he wept.

In her bedroom, Willow Weasley turned onto her side, buried her face in a pillow and sobbed as she felt her heart shatter in her chest.

***

"I am sorry to see you going."

Lupin nodded. "I would stay, Head Master, but this opportunity..."

"You have already waited too long for it?" Dumbledore suggested gently. Remus Lupin nodded, glancing at the young man standing next to him. They were standing on the front steps of the castle, the sunlight washing over them. "I can assure you both that we will take care of Miss Weasley for you."

"Thank you," Oz’s voice broke and he fell silent. His eyes were on the creamy stone of the steps beneath his feet, his face pale and drawn. Like Lupin, his clothing was dishevelled and his colourful hair stood in wild spikes over his face.

"Hermione and Dawn were with her when I went to say goodbye," Remus said, one hand on Oz’s shoulder, in a wordless gesture of comfort. "I think they will be the best people for her to have around for now."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "She needs to have some friends around her at this time," he said, a thoughtful look on his face. "And now...now, I have to go to the trouble of finding a new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."

"Severus..."

"Remus, you know very well that Severus will never hold that position as long as we have need of a potions master," Dumbledore said calmly. "And I already have a first choice of Professor, if I can convince her. After all, her presence would be a great aid in this situation..."

The younger werewolf lifted his blood-shot eyes. "Professor, are...would you be able to do that?"

"Of course, Mr Osbourne," the wizard said. His eyes twinkled briefly. "After all, I am the Head Master."

Daniel Osbourne managed a weak smile. "I-I think that would help Willow a lot," he said, then fell silent again.

"Yes..." Dumbledore extended a hand, which both werewolves shook. "Yes, Ii rather expect it might. Now, you do have shelter for tonight? I believe the moon will rise fairly early."

"Sirius was arranging everything, Head Master," Remus replied. "We’re meeting him at Hogsmeade."

"Very good," Stepping back, Dumbledore nodded to the horseless carriage that was rapidly trundling towards them. "I bid you a safe journey," he said. "And I would be less than delighted if you did not keep in contact."

"We’ll send you postcards, Professor," Lupin smiled. "Take care."

"And you."

Remaining where he was, Dumbledore watched the pair ascend into the carriage, the younger of the two casting a longing look back in the direction of the tower, where he knew Willow Weasley was residing.

The carriage door closed and it rumbled off into the afternoon light, leaving the head Master of Hogwarts standing on the castle steps, a ponderous look on his face.

If he remembered correctly, the time in America would be approximately seven o’clock in the morning, at least in the region he needed to get in contact with, which was a fairly respectable time.

Smoothing his rich robes down, he cast a brief look up at Gryffindor tower.

Yes, the sooner he set off, the better.

He would inform Minerva and then...

Then, he had to go and offer a powerful young woman the position of Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts.