Marauders Redux

Chapter 7: Conversations at a Darkened Table.

As the drummer began his repetitive beat, and the guitarists strummed the opening chords, the crowd let out a deafening cheer--led by the shrieking Boardmaniacs crowding around the stage. A team of eight orange-clad security wizards stood along the front of the stage with wands drawn, holding the crazy fans at bay.

Remus looked on in delight as Boardman began to sing his opening song, barely audible above the screaming crowd. The man really did look shockingly like Sirius. He was tall and lean, with pale skin. Long back hair hung in limp locks around his narrow face. He was clad in skin-tight black, topped off with a black overcoat of the sort that would have looked more at home on an American cowboy than on an English rock singer.

The cheers were too loud for Remus to make out all of the lyrics, but the song seemed to be some sort of rousing tune about soaring over the ocean on a broom. He swayed and nodded along with the rest of the crowd, but decided to reserve judgment about whether or not he liked them until he had heard more songs.

Nymphadora seemed equally skeptical, watching the performance with a rather subdued expression on her face. Bill was dancing, but appearded to be doing it more to please his screaming and bouncing girlfriend than because he genuinely enjoyed the song. Sirius--in the small glimpses of him that Remus could get--was dancing enthusiastically. But Remus suspected that his exuberance was primarily a result of enjoying the company of the five lovely young witches who had surrounded him.

As the opening song ended, the crowd let loose another torrent of screams and applause. Boardman, a surprisingly stiff and expressionless performer, actually seemed vaguely embarrassed by his fan-following. He quickly launched the group into another up tempo number; this one seemed to be about evading the schemes of a "black magic woman."

Unable to converse over the din, Remus and Nymphadora continued to listen, swaying and nodding along to the beat of the rather silly song. Though more than half of the crowd was dancing enthusiastically, Remus began to notice more and more of the concert-goers responding to the music with indifference similar to his own. And some of them were even leaving the dance floor.

The applause and cheers at the conclusion of this song were loud, but not as loud as they had been for the first. The Hobgoblins then moved into a ballad--a rather insipid song about lost love and wasted years. Remus sighed, and folded his arms.

Nymphadora nudged him, and he leaned over to listen to her. "You know," she said, "they're really not very good."

"No. Not at all."

"Do you want to go sit down?" She gestured toward the dark tables surrounding the dance floor.

"Definitely. Let's go."

They worked their way off the dance floor. As they left, Remus noticed that Bill and Fleur looked like they were enjoying the slow dance immensely, and Sirius had picked one lucky girl from his new fan club to favor with a dance. At least someone is enjoying this music.

Nymphadora led the way up the stairs, and found them an empty table for two alongside the railing overlooking the dance floor. As they sank into their chairs, Remus noticed that the music seemed considerably quieter on this level of the club--undoubtedly it was enveloped in a volume-reducing charm, so that the bar patrons could talk without being drowned out by the bands.

"Much better," said Nymphadora. "I'm beginning to think that the Hobgoblins should have stayed retired."

"I'm in complete agreement on that point. For a popular band, they're a remarkably untalented bunch."

Nymphadora quirked a smile. "Maybe they all graduated from Blue Sky."

They laughed at her joke as a cocktail waitress approached them, asking if they wanted anything to drink. Nymphadora ordered a pint of lager, and Remus decided to follow suit. A third drink wouldn't be so bad--after all, lager was considerably weaker than Firewhiskey.

As they waited for their drinks, Nymphadora said, "My friend Eddy Balfour is engaged. His fiancé is Fleur's age."

"Really?" asked Remus. "I was likely her teacher for a year. What's her name?"

"Felicia Vane," she replied.

Remus nodded. "Felicia Vane--I remember her. She was in my NEWT-level class. A fair student, but a little unfocused. She didn't seem to know what she wanted to do with her life."

"Well, she's found her calling now, and his name is Eddy Balfour."

"It still astonishes me that all these young ladies are really old enough to be getting engaged and married. But then, I suppose James and Lily weren't much older when they married, and at the time I didn't have a single qualm about it. It's all a matter of perspective, I suppose."

Nymphadora nodded. She fixed him with an odd expression, and asked an even odder question. "So--do you think Fleur is too young for Bill?"

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well--I don't know if I've ever thought about it before. Molly certainly thinks she is."

"I know how Molly feels," stated Nymphadora. "For a while she thought she could get him to chuck Fleur by doing her best to set him up with me."

"Really?" asked Remus, surprised by this bit of information.

She nodded. "That's why Fleur doesn't like me. She still thinks I'm trying to steal Bill away from her."

"But you're not! Are you?"

Nymphadora shut both her eyes and her mouth tightly, as if trying to restrain herself from some sort of outburst. "For a man with a reputation as an intellect, you can be amazingly daft sometimes."

Remus could tell that he had unwittingly dug a hole for himself, and was still pondering how to get out of it when their drinks arrived. Nymphadora took a few large gulps of her lager, and then returned to staring tight-lipped and grim down at their table. Remus toyed with his glass, but didn't drink.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That was a ridiculous thing for me to say, and I apologize. I feel like I've been saying and doing a great many ridiculous things tonight--even before I drank that Firewhiskey. You have my permission to ignore everything else I have to say tonight, as I'm certain very little of it will have any sense behind it."

The corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile, and she replied, "Apology accepted. And I'm sure I won't have to ignore everything you say--just most of it."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence," he said, smiling back.

They both took a sip of their drinks, and Nymphadora spoke again. "You never did give me a straight answer to my question, you know. Do you think Fleur is too young for Bill?" Remus had the strange feeling that the answer to this question was important to her, so he took his time pondering the matter before answering.

Finally, he said, "Probably not."

"Probably not? What exactly does that mean?" she asked.

"Well--they're nearly seven years different in age, if I recall correctly. For some people, that age difference could potentially cause enormous problems. But for the right people, it would be no trouble at all. I simply don't know Fleur well enough to know for certain if she is mature enough to get past the age gap or not."

"So in your opinion it has less to do with age difference than with emotional maturity?"

Remus nodded. "That, and their positions in society, the compatibility of their goals and ambitions--that sort of thing."

Nymphadora looked pensive. "Then," she said, "you don't think that a large age difference matters if the couple is sufficiently compatible in other ways?"

Remus shook his head slowly. "The age difference still matters--it could cause problems with their families, for instance. Or inspire prejudice or harsh judgment in their peers. But if a couple truly had enough in common, and was truly determined to make their relationship work, then all the problems caused by a large age difference could be overcome." Remus considered his words carefully as he spoke. He was getting the feeling that Nymphadora was thinking not so much of Bill and Fleur, as of her own interest in "older men." Perhaps it was because of the drinks, but he was beginning to hope that her choice of an older man might possibly lead her to himself. But that was probably just wistful thinking--or was it?

She nodded silently in response, and then looked back out at the stage. They both took a few more sips of their drinks in thoughtful silence. Remus looked down at the table, and saw her hand resting not far from his own. Her fingers looked thin and pale against the shiny black of the table top. They looked lonely. He turned back toward the stage, and pretended to be interested in the music while he slowly began to edge his hand closer to hers. You're just setting yourself up for rejection, his mind tried to tell him, but for once, he didn't feel like listening. He kept moving his hand forward slowly, drawing closer to hers centimeter by centimeter. At last, he felt his fingertips graze hers, sending a tiny thrill through his whole body. Forcing himself not to look down at the table, he moved his hand a few centimeters further, until his fingers were fully covering hers. They were warmer than he expected. He sat like that for what seemed like a small eternity, staring insensibly at the band, feeling her warm, slender fingers beneath his own. Then, without warning, her hand moved--but not to pull away. Instead, she turned her hand palm up, and grasped his hand tightly in hers.

He looked down at their entwined hands, his heart starting to speed up, and then turned to look her in the eye. She was staring right at him with a puzzling expression on her face. She looked almost--nervous?

Still trying to assess the meaning of the look on her face, Remus felt his own apprehension growing. He had held her hand before--but always it had been a gesture of comfort, or solidarity, or friendship. He longed to open his mouth and tell her that tonight it meant so much more--but he didn't have the words. Or the courage. In my youth, I once held firm before half-a-dozen murderous Death Eaters--so now why can't I even work up the courage to say a few simple words?

Nymphadora was the first one to break the silence. "Remus," she said, hesitantly, "There's something I need to tell you."

She still looked extremely nervous, and Remus had a feeling that whatever she was about to say, it was going to be very important to them both. Either she was about to reject him, or--if dreams really could come true--she just might do something quite the opposite.

"Of course, anything," he responded, trying to keep his voice steady. He caught himself holding his breath in anticipation of her next words.

"Well...the thing is...I don't know if this is something you ever wanted to hear, but--" she was cut off before she even got going by the thunderous roar of the crowd. Apparently the Hobgoblins had just finished their set, and not even the sound dampening charm was enough to soften the uproarious cheers and applause of their adoring fans.

Remus had never hated a musical group so much as he hated the Hobgoblins at that moment.

He waited with clenched teeth while the band left the stage and the cheering died down. Nymphadora sent him a small, apologetic smile. When the noise had receded enough to make conversation possible again, Remus tightened his clasp around her hand, and leaned toward her. "So, what was it that you were trying to tell me?"

She lowered her eyes, looking atypically shy. "I..." She was interrupted again, this time by a nearby cry of "Tonks!"

They looked up to see her old Quidditch captain, Eddy Balfour, rapidly approaching with Felicia Vane and several other hangers-on in tow. Remus self-consciously withdrew his hands from Tonks' as the group approached them.

"Wotcher, Tonks!" cried Eddy enthusiastically as he reached their table.

"Hello again, Eddy. You look like a jolly bunch!" replied Tonks, looking as cheerful as ever. Her change of mood was so sudden, that Remus wondered if it was just a façade, or if she really was relieved at having the task of rejecting him mercifully delayed.

"We have every reason to be, now that that pathetic lot has left the stage," said Eddy.

"No joke. I would have had to conjure myself a good pair of earmuffs if they'd gone on much longer," replied Tonks.

"But now comes the fun," said Eddy. "The Weird Sisters should be on in a few minutes. We're all heading down to get us a good spot before they start. Would you and your friend like to join us?"

Remus' first impulse was to snarl something along the lines of, "Of course not you interfering git! Can't you see we were in the middle of an important conversation?", but he managed to restrain himself. Instead, he looked back at Nymphadora with as neutral an expression as he could muster, and quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

"It sounds like a smashing idea to me," she said brightly. "What do you think, Remus?" She added the question in a softer, more tentative tone.

It was no façade--she was definitely relieved to have the inevitable rejection delayed. With a tight, forced smile he glanced back at Eddy and his friends. They were all young, attractive, stylishly dressed, and wearing the eager smiles of people ready to have a good time.

He turned back to Nymphadora, looking as beautiful and full of life as he had ever seen her. She didn't belong with him--old, gray, scarred, and poor, with nothing but a life of hardship ahead of him. She belonged with those eager young people, with their whole bright lives ahead of them. What had he been thinking? She was smart enough to know better than to saddle herself with a burden like him.

"Yes," he forced himself to respond. "We should definitely get down there."

She nodded with a smile, and rose to join her young friends. When he didn't move, she said, "Well, aren't you coming?"

"I will," he said quickly, "I'm just going to finish my drink first. I'll catch up with you in a few minutes." There--that would give her the excuse she needed to go without him. But she seemed disappointed, the smile vanishing from her face.

"Are you sure? Do you really want to stay here all by yourself?"

He nodded. "It doesn't bother me. What does bother me is leaving behind a perfectly good drink that I've hardly touched."

"I'll stay with you--we can find Eddy later."

"No--no. I know how excited you are about the Weird Sisters, and I don't want you to miss a single moment of them. You go with your friends, and I'll find you when I'm done with my drink."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

"Are you sure you'll be able to find me?"

He smiled. "I can always find you," he said with complete truth. He could pick her out in any crowd, no matter how she looked.

"Okay," she said finally. "But if you don't show up--I'll come looking for you."

"Then I'd better keep my promise."

"Yes, you should."

All the while her young friends had looked on with mild impatience. Finally, Eddy broke in. "Are you ready then?"

Nymphadora nodded. "Let's go."

Suddenly, Felicia Vane spoke up, pointing at Remus. "Hey! I know you! You used to teach at Hogwarts!"

"Yes. Yes I did," answered Remus, his whole body tensing up at the thoughtless tone of her voice.

"And didn't you have to quit because you got bit by a werewolf, or something?" she continued loudly.

He coughed uncomfortably as he felt the eyes of everyone nearby turning to stare at him. "Something like that, yes."

"So how's that working out?" she asked in her unreasonably loud voice. "The whole werewolf thing?"

"As well as can be expected," he said tightly.

Nymphadora's face was turning red, and her eyes look fierce. She looked like she was about to speak, and Remus placed a restraining hand on her arm and shook his head slightly at her. The last thing he wanted now was for her to make a bad situation worse by starting a row.

"Hey, love," broke in Eddy, trying to restrain his tactless fiancée, "maybe we should get going now, before the floor is too crowded."

"Okay!" she said brightly, in what appeared to be her usual brain-dead tone. "See ya later, Professor!"

Remus gave her a terse nod.

"Remus... are you sure...?" asked Nymphadora, hovering between the table and Eddy's group.

"Go on. I'll see you soon," he replied firmly.

Felicia and most of the group had moved away from their table toward the dance floor, but Eddy lingered behind with a sheepish expression on his face.

"Sorry about that," he said. "She gets like that when she's had too much to drink. I'm thinking of making her drink soft drinks at our wedding."

"That might be a good idea," said Nymphadora.

"So... do you still want to join us?" Eddy asked warily.

"Of course we do," said Remus, before Nymphadora had a chance to reply. He turned to look up at her. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up as soon as I've finished my drink."

She still looked uneasy, but finally nodded and turned to follow Eddy and the others. She glanced anxiously over her shoulder at him, and he gave her an encouraging smile and a little wave. She smiled back, and looked away. Just as the group reached the stairs, Felicia fell in beside Nymphadora, and asked in her horribly loud voice, "So is he your uncle or something?"

Remus' back stiffened at the awful question, and he watched tensely as they melded into the seething throng on the dance floor. Of course he had to be a relative. Why else would someone like her be spending time with someone like him.

All his excited hope from a few minutes earlier had drained from him, and all that was left was an empty, dried-out shell of a man. I learned years ago that isolation and prejudice were all that life had to offer me. Why did I ever forget? Why did I ever fool myself into thinking there could be something more--something better? I should have stayed home when they gave me chance. I might have been just as lonely, but at least I wouldn't have been publicly humiliated.

As he sat, staring miserably down into his glass of lager, he began to seriously contemplate the possibility of simply Apparating home now, to spare himself any further humiliation or heartache. He could deal with his friends' outrage at his disappearance later--when he was feeling more rational, and more sober.

He continued to turn the possibility of leaving over in his mind for a few more minutes, still unsure of what to do. His reverie was broken when the crowd burst out in cheers as the Weird Sisters took the stage.

Most of the eyes in the house were fixed on the band as they began to play, but not Remus'. Instead, he began to scan the surging crowd of fans filling up the dance floor. At last, he found her. She was surrounded by Eddy Balfour's little entourage, and was dancing to the music like the rest of the crowd. She looked very young, and very happy. And she should be. She was where she belonged.

As the surging beat and rhythms of the music filled the club, Remus was able to temporarily forget his melancholy and fell into something of a trance, staring intently at Nymphadora's distant dancing figure. She would never win any awards for grace, but her dancing was full of an enchanting feeling of life and energy.

Watching her move under the dim, shimmering lights called up another recent memory of watching her dance--the memory of his dream from a few days earlier. He could remember seeing the glow of the moonlight on her bare skin as clearly as if it had actually happened.

He allowed himself to focus on the memory of her soft curves. He let himself imagine, for just a moment, what it would be like to touch her--to feel her body moving beneath his own.

But with a sudden jarring blare of the bagpipes he shook the fantasy from his mind. He shouldn't let himself dwell on the impossible. In real life, just like in his dream, the arrival of the wolf always ruined any happiness he might have hoped for. The wolf had ruined things with Shari all those years ago, and any relationship that he started now would be no different. He could have no lasting happiness with Nymphadora, or with anyone else. A werewolf's bite had seen to that more than thirty years ago.

Remus turned his attention back to his neglected drink, and took a long swig from his glass. I can't leave now--no matter how much I want to. I'll just have to try to put on a cheerful face for Sirius; he deserves all the happiness he can get on his first real birthday celebration in more than fourteen years.

As he was taking another gulp of his lager, he was startled to hear a man's voice nearby saying, "Professor Lupin?"

He looked up to see another of his former students, the Scottish Quidditch enthusiast, Oliver Wood.

"Mr. Wood!" he exclaimed, trying to sound as cheery as possible. "How good to see you again!"

"I thought that was you, Professor. How are you?" Wood said, holding out his hand.

Remus reached out for the young man's offered hand, and received a hearty handshake. It was a very heartening gesture--most people who knew of his "condition" avoided touching him. Even several members of the Order were reticent and distant around him. But never Nymphadora. Her eagerness to accept him, and her willingness to touch him, were the first things that had drawn him to her as a friend--and had undoubtedly been the key reasons for the heightened intensity of his feelings in the past few weeks.

He needed to stop thinking about Nymphadora. Wood was offering him a distraction, and he needed to take advantage of it.

"I'm doing well, quite well. And how are things going with Puddlemere United?" asked Remus.

"You follow Quidditch?" said Wood, with a bright smile.

"I do indeed. And I read not long ago that you are considered the most promising young player on the Puddlemere Reserve team."

Wood shook his head, and humbly replied, "I do my best. That's all."

"Well, I've little doubt that your best will soon earn you a place on a First Team somewhere in the league."

"Thank you, Professor. I'm certainly trying my hardest. And how have things been going for you, since leaving Hogwarts?"

"Oh--it's been up and down a bit, as you could guess, given the circumstances of my departure. But it's been more up than down lately. I've been doing some work as a translator of academic texts. Not as exciting as playing professional Quidditch, but it keeps food on the table," replied Remus.

"What language do you translate?"

"German, lately. I've also done some translation work in French and Latin."

"Wow--I can barely manage one language properly. I can't imagine working in three," said Wood.

"My parents spent a lot of time teaching me as a child--if I hadn't started that young, I never would have gained fluency in so many languages."

Wood nodded, with a smile. Remus was happy to see one of his old students seem so much at ease with him. He had worried that none of them would be able to see past his lycanthropy--but clearly that was not the case.

"So, Professor... I was wondering if that was Tonks that I saw you with a few minutes ago?" asked Wood.

Remus had to force himself to keep smiling. Nymphadora was the last person he had wanted to talk about right now. He nodded. "Yes--yes it was. Are you and Tonks acquainted?"

"A bit," said Wood. "I can't say that I really knew her at Hogwarts, but I did make the Gryffindor team early enough to play against her a few times. She had quite a way with a bat."

"I've no doubt she did," replied Remus with a chuckle.

"So what does she do now?"

"Actually, she's an Auror."

Wood's eyes widened. "Really? I never would have pictured her as one to spend her life chasing after Dark Wizards."

"Well, she is. And quite good at it, too," said Remus, feeling somewhat defensive on her behalf.

"Yeah. I bet," said Wood. "Y'know, I wanted to ask you a question. I wanted to know if the two of you were here...together? Like on a date?"

Remus knew he should have seen this coming--but he hadn't. He tried hard not to let his surprise show on his face. "No, Mr. Wood. Tonks and I are just friends. That's all." The words felt like bricks dropping from his tongue.

"Well then--I've got a mate from my team who wanted to meet her. He was a Ravenclaw Beater for three years before her, and he said he's always wanted to meet the little girl who replaced him. His words, not mine," said Wood. "So if she's not here with you, do you think it would be alright if he asked her to dance?"

Remus coughed a little. He'd have to get used to this sort of thing if he was going to get over her. He'd best start now, and get it over with it. "I'm sure she'd be more than willing to meet your friend, Mr. Wood," said Remus, keeping most of the bitterness out of his voice.

"Great! Great, Professor," said Wood with a relieved smile. "Thanks. I'll go tell him now. And nice seeing you again!" he added as he turned away.

"Likewise," said Remus softly, with a nod. My God, I wish this night was over. I can't take much more of this.

Remus knew he should feel good about the fact that the young men actually thought that Nymphadora would come with him as a date. But instead, all he could feel was hard, cold, jealousy. He took a few more gulps of his lager, and wondered if it would be a good idea to order another when this one was gone.

"You spineless git!" said an angry voice as two hands slammed suddenly down onto the table in front of him, sloshing his drink violently.

Remus looked up at the angry face glaring down at him, and blinked in temporary disorientation until he realized that he was looking up at the tan, blue-eyed face of the disguised Sirius.

"What...?"

"Oh, you know exactly what!" Sirius interrupted him viciously.

"No, actually, I'm afraid I don't," replied Remus, beginning to get angry himself at his friend's unreasonable tone.

"Did I, or did I not just hear you turning a pack of Quidditch clods loose on Tonks--and right after you abandoned her to those brats out on the dance floor?"

"I didn't ... that's not what happened!"

"Really? Because, to me, it looks like that's exactly what happened," said Sirius.

Remus felt himself becoming even angrier. Why was tonight suddenly the official "Torture Lupin" night? "I have not abandoned her! I'm going to join her as soon as I've finished my drink! And if those blokes want to ask her to dance, then it's up to her to say yes or no--not me! I've got nothing to do with it!"

"Nothing to do with it?" asked Sirius incredulously. "How can you say that? You fancy her, don't you?"

The last question caught Remus completely off guard. He sat there staring, open-mouthed, up at the chiseled god-like face without the slightest idea how to respond.

"Well don't you?" pressed Sirius.

The glare from that golden face was too much for Remus, and he finally relented with a hint of resentment in his voice. "Well, yes. How did you know?"

It was Sirius' turn to look surprised. "How did I know?! Maybe it's the way you take a deep breath every time she walks in the room, to get a good whiff of her perfume. Or the way you ruin every good conversation we have by interjecting 'I wish Tonks was here for this.' Or possibly it's the way you let her wrap you around her little finger every time she wants something. It's pretty damn obvious to me and everyone else who knows you that you fancy her! What's not obvious is why you sicced that pack of gorillas on the girl that you should be keeping all to yourself?!"

"Because it doesn't matter how I feel!" Remus. "All that matters is how she feels--and there is no way that she would rather be with an aging, unemployed werewolf than with a young healthy man with a promising future. So they're welcome to her! She can dance with as many of them as she likes! It's not my choice!"

Sirius shook his head in disbelief. "Are you out of your bloody mind? Haven't you realized by now that she planned this night as much for you as for me? She doesn't want to be with those blokes--she wants to be with you! How can you be so willfully blind that you don't see that? I can't believe you used to have the reputation of being the brains of the Marauders. You haven't got a speck of sense in your whole head."

Remus was stunned into submission. "Are you saying that... that she fancies me too?"

"So now you figure it out. My God!"

"But... How do you know? Are you sure? You're not just joking with me?"

The Adonis-faced Sirius continued to stare at him with an expression of annoyed astonishment.

"Well...what am I supposed to do now?" Remus asked, his mind suddenly blank.

Sirius slapped his palm to his forehead and shook his head. "Great Merlin, man! What the hell is wrong with you today? Are you a Marauder, or a mouse? I'm really starting to wonder if you still deserve the title of Marauder at all! Just get off your pathetic arse and do something." With that, Sirius turned and began to stalk away.

Remus rose from his chair hastily, his mind a jumble of half-formed thoughts. "Siri--Colin! Wait!" he cried.

His disguised friend turned back with a frown. "Why should I? This conversation is going nowhere, and I have a beautiful young woman waiting for me at the bar." He wagged his pointing finger at Remus' face. "I'm not going to let you ruin tonight for me--no matter what! Now go solve your own problem, for once."

Sirius turned again, and left Remus standing there alone, feeling more agitated and overwhelmed then he had since that night in the Shrieking Shack a year and a half ago.