Marauders Redux

Chapter 8: An Unexpected Friend

Remus sank slowly back into his chair. Could it be true? Could Sirius possibly be right? Did Nymphadora really fancy him as much as he fancied her?

He knew that they had grown very close over the past few months--but he had sincerely believed that the closeness went no further than friendship on her part. Even the times when it seemed like she might feel something more for him, he had convinced himself that it was more of a sisterly affection. Over the past few hours he had come to hope that she would be open to the possibility of becoming something more than friends--but it had never occurred to him that she might have felt that way even before he did.

Sirius had known that Remus' feelings had gone beyond friendship even before Remus knew it for himself. So could he also be right about Nymphadora?

Remus felt like his head was spinning as he tried desperately to sift through his memories of the past month to find for himself evidence of Nymphadora's feelings for him. But should he really just be sitting here thinking? Shouldn't he follow Sirius' advice, and "get off his arse and do something"?

He looked back toward the dance floor, searching once more for Nymphadora's distant figure. It only took a moment. She was still near Balfour's gang, but now she was dancing alongside a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired young man--undoubtedly Wood's Quidditch mate. She looked like she was smiling. She looked happy.

Remus' face fell. Sirius couldn't possibly be right. If she really fancied him, then why had she seemed so eager to join Balfour's group instead of finishing their conversation? And why was she now dancing so happily with her handsome new admirer? Maybe she wanted to go with Balfour because she was afraid that I was going to reject her? And maybe she's only dancing with that bloke to be polite?

Remus shook his head in confusion. He still had difficultly believing Sirius' assertions--no matter how much he wanted to. It was so hard to trust his old friend's judgment these days.

And what about Sirius' comment about solving his own problems "for once"? Remus' friends may have played the part of caretakers during their school years--but he had taken perfectly good care of himself for a decade and a half. And for the past half year he had even become Sirius' caretaker--working to keep his restless and unstable friend from doing anything that would endanger himself and the Order. How dare he start treating Remus like the shy and insecure boy he once was?

He gulped down the rest of his lager, and slammed his mug down on the table. He was wondering whether another pint of lager would give him sufficient courage to either cut in on Nymphadora's dance with the tall Quidditch player, or to sock Sirius in the face, when he was interrupted by an unexpected question.

"Professor Lupin? Are you okay?" asked the soft feminine voice.

Please, not another student, he thought. He gritted his teeth and slowly raised his head.

As his eyes finally locked onto the face of his questioner, he felt a great wave of relief surging through his body. "Desdemona!" he exclaimed with a genuine smile.

"Professor!" said the petite young brunette with a bright, dimpled smile. "I'm so glad you remember me."

"How could I forget you, Desdemona?" replied Remus. Desdemona had been, next to Harry, his favorite student at Hogwarts. The quiet Hufflepuff fifth-year girl had outwardly seemed like the last person to be considered "popular" in the traditional sense--but Remus had soon discovered that all of her housemates had entrusted her with their most closely held secrets. She was dearly beloved by her housemates and friends, but unfortunately not by her own family, an ancient clan of pure-blooded Slytherins who were perpetually disappointed in her.

She had been struggling with her classwork, and had been in dread of failing all of her OWLs when Remus took her under his wing. He had helped her to find tutors for all of her more difficult subjects, and helped fill in the gaps with some tutoring sessions of his own. One of his brightest moments the summer after leaving Hogwarts was when he had received a letter from Desdemona announcing with delight that she had passed all but one of her OWLs, and had even gotten three "Es", including one in Defense Against the Dark Arts. But that was the last time that he had heard from her--until tonight.

"Oh, Professor, we're not in school anymore. You can call me Desi--that's what all my friends call me."

"Desi. You're right. We're not in school anymore, and I haven't been Professor Lupin for over a year now. You can call me Remus."

"Oh, I don't know if I can do that," she said with a little laugh, covering her mouth bashfully with her hand.

"Well, Mr. Lupin would do as a substitute until you're ready. Care to sit down?" he indicated the chair that Nymphadora had vacated earlier.

"Thanks!" she said, sliding into the seat. "I'd been hoping you'd have a minute to talk."

"Really? Is something wrong?"

"Oh--not with me. You just looked like you needed someone to talk to," said Desi.

"I did?"

She nodded slowly. "You did."

Remus smiled and looked down at the table, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "So it was really that obvious?"

"Not to everyone. Most people here are absorbed with the Weird Sisters--or with their dates--or with the people they want to be their dates. But I just came with some girlfriends, and I'm not interested in finding a date. And I'm not that excited by the band--I just came because my friends like them. So I've mostly been people-watching. And I saw you. And on my way over to say hello, I thought you looked like you had something troubling on your mind, and that you might need to talk. So here I am," she finished with another wide smile.

"Desi," said Remus shaking his head, "I do need to talk. I admit it. But I'm not sure if I can really talk about...what I need to talk about...with you. But I do appreciate the offer."

"It's all right, Mr. Lupin. Most people don't like to start off talking about what they need to talk about--they'd rather talk about something else first. So we can talk about anything. Quidditch. The weather. Popular music. Anything. And if you feel like talking about what you need to talk about later, you can. And if not, you don't have to. At least you'll have had a nice break from it to clear your head." She sat up straight in her chair and folded her arms on the table as if settling in for a lengthy duration.

"So this is how you became the best-liked girl in Hufflepuff house," said Remus with a little laugh. "Speaking of which--what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be asleep in your dormitory right about now? Professor Sprout wouldn't be too happy to know that her students are sneaking off school grounds to go to concerts." Remus felt he'd really have to inform Dumbledore of this breach of school security. If students could come and go so easily, then others might be able to as well. Harry could be in danger, even in the presumed safety of his dorm...

"I don't go to Hogwarts anymore," stated Desi, interrupting Remus' panicked train of thought.

"You don't? But--isn't this supposed to be your NEWT year?"

She nodded, looking a little sad. "It is. And it is for most of my old friends. But not for me. My parents didn't let me go back after my OWLs."

"Didn't let you go back?" he exclaimed, his panic from a moment earlier quickly transforming into anger. "How could they? Your agreement with them was that if you passed at least six OWLs, they would allow you to continue. And last I heard from you, you had passed not just six, but seven OWLs! This is outrageous!"

Desi shrugged her shoulders. "They were the ones paying my tuition--and I couldn't afford to start paying it myself. So when they decided that a dim-witted Hufflepuff like me didn't need any education beyond her OWLs, there wasn't really much that I could do." She didn't completely manage to hide the bitterness in her voice.

"They didn't really say that, did they?" asked Remus, aghast.

"Not to my face. They just haven't ever caught on to the fact that I can hear them perfectly well when I'm sitting in the next room over."

Remus shook his head in disbelief. "This is horrible. You have so much to offer, Desi. Your parents are fools not to see it."

Desi smiled broadly, regaining her usual cheerfulness. "Thank-you, Prof...er, Mr. Lupin. Fortunately for me, some of my school chums' parents felt the same way you do. A few of them remembered how all the girls used to come to me to get their hair done, and they helped me get an apprenticeship at Vivian's."

"Vivian's?" asked Remus, raising one eyebrow.

"It's the premier salon and day spa on Diagon Alley," replied Desi, with a serious expression.

"No wonder I haven't heard of it. I'm not exactly the type to frequent day spas," he said, with a little chuckle. "And your parents didn't object to you working in that sort of shop? I'd think it would bother them to have you serving the same social circle that they move in."

"It did bother them a little--but it was better than having me mope around the house all day. And, unfortunately for them, they pulled me out of Hogwarts before I was old enough for them to marry me off like they wanted. So they let me take the job."

Remus was having difficulty digesting this new flurry of information. How could any decent parents possibly pull their daughter out of school on such a prejudiced whim? He couldn't fathom how any parents could care so little for their own child--especially when his own parents had fought so hard to get him the education that her parents had no qualms about denying her.

The most puzzling thing of all was that such heartless parents had ever managed to produce a daughter as optimistic and non-judgmental as Desdemona.

"Well... I do hope you're enjoying your apprenticeship," Remus began, trying to stay positive and diplomatic. But his alcohol-amplified emotions got the better of him. "But what the hell were your parents thinking? How could they treat you that way? It's outrageous! You have got to get out of that house, and away from their influence, as soon as you can."

"Oh, I have moved out," said Desi earnestly. "I turned seventeen last Spring, and my pay was already enough that I could afford a share of the rent with two of the other girls from Vivian's, and we all got a flat together."

"Excellent! That's the best possible decision you could have made at this stage. I have a friend from my own school-days at Hogwarts who made a similar choice, and moved out of his parents' home at a young age. In his case, it was even before he finished school. But it was the best thing in the world for him. I know it's hard to admit sometimes--but not all parents are really worthy of their children. It was very courageous of you to leave them."

Desi nodded quietly, but she didn't look that certain of herself. "Do you regret your decision?" Remus asked, gently probing for more information.

"No. I don't regret moving out," replied Desi. "I love living with my girlfriends." Remus began to suspect that some of her cheerfulness seemed rather forced. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who needed to talk tonight. But, like himself, she seemed to prefer any subject but the one that was bothering her. Maybe, if he kept her talking, she'd bring it up on her own.

"I'm glad to hear that you're doing so well--in spite of your family," he said.

"Thank-you. It means a lot that you approve of my choices."

Remus shook his head. "You don't need my approval. You don't need anyone's approval but your own."

"Still," she replied, "I like to have it. I think everyone likes to have the approval of people they respect and care about--whether they need it or not."

Remus suspected that the need for approval might be at the heart of both of their problems. Desdemona clearly still felt a lingering need for her parents' approval, and Remus was afraid that if he acted on his attraction for Nymphadora, then he would only end up losing her friendship and respect. But that was a part of his life that he definitely wasn't ready to share with his young friend. Instead, he decided to stick with a safe subject. "Well--tell me more about your work at Vivian's. What sorts of things do you do at a day spa?"

Desi smiled gratefully at his change of subject. "Vivian's offers a wide range of services, like massage, aromatherapy, cosmetic transfiguration, permanent hair vanishing--that sort of thing. But my specialty is hair styling and coloration."

"I don't know what half of those other services are--but hair styling and coloring I think I understand. How do you like it?"

"I love it, Mr. Lupin. It really is my calling. And I owe it all to you," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"To me? How exactly did I manage to help you find your calling? I've never even been into a salon," he said.

"It was all that extra tutoring you got me! Vivian's doesn't accept anyone as an apprentice unless they have passing OWLs in Potions and Herbology, and OWL scores of 'E' or higher in Charms and Transfiguration. I never would have gotten that 'E' in Transfiguration without the extra help you gave me. And transfiguration skills are essential for quality hair coloration--and Madame Vivian herself has told me that I'm the most promising young colorist she's seen in years. So you see, Mr. Lupin, you really are the secret to my success," she said, giving him a glowing smile.

He echoed her smiled, but shook his head. "Now Desi, I'm not going to let you give me the credit for praise you earned through your own hard work. You earned Madame Vivian's completely on your own merits--I had nothing to do with it."

"Not directly, maybe. But you set me on this path. And now I'm just as happy as I would have been if I'd continued at Hogwarts. And I'm learning to make a very good living. Some of my chums from the salon think that I'm good enough that when I've finished my apprenticeship, I could open my own shop! Can you picture me of all people as a business owner?"

"I always told you that you could accomplish anything you set your mind to. It's good to see that I was right," said Remus. "You must be quite a good colorist to earn the praise of Madame Vivian herself. So it's really done with transfiguration, is it? I always thought hair colorings were done with potions?"

"Oh, anyone can buy a cheap coloring potion at their local apothecary, or even brew one at home. But it's nowhere near the quality of a professional transfiguration coloration."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yes. I can spot a potion-job from a mile away. But with a good transfiguration job, the color looks just as natural as if the client was born with it."

"Really? I had no idea."

"Most men are pretty clueless about this sort of thing. We keep trying to bring in new male clients, but we haven't hit on any effective marketing schemes yet. It's hard to convince men that a salon can make them look better than those silly old home hair-cutting charms. And most men are positively terrified of color-treatments. Probably because they all think coloring is just those horrid potions--just like you thought. But with a bit of carefully applied transfiguration, I could take that gray right out of your hair. It would look perfectly natural--just like you were twenty again. I could even give you great discount. I certainly owe it to you, after all you did for me."

Remus could feel himself blushing again. His prematurely gray hair had been a very sensitive subject for him for some time now. A few years ago he had even tried one of those "horrid potions" to get the gray out, with disastrous results. His hair had come out gleaming an alarming orange-bronze. He'd been forced to cut it tight to his head, and wait for it to grow back in before it looked normal again. From then on he had simply resigned himself to his fate. "I don't know, Desi. I've gotten so used to my gray by now--I'd hardly feel like myself without it."

"I could be more subtle," she replied. "I could just tone it down a little--and artfully arrange it. I could make you into the perfect image of the dignified scholarly gentleman. You'd love the

results--I promise."

Remus hesitated to answer. He didn't want to offend the girl, but he also didn't think that he could afford her services, even with a discount.

Before he decided what to say, she spoke again. "I don't mean to pressure you. You don't have to decide right now. Just think about it, and if you ever decide you want to, just owl me at the shop and I'll get you an appointment right away. Okay?"

"Okay," he said with a nod.

"Now, while we're on the subject of hair coloring, do you know where your girlfriend gets her hair done? It's amazing how natural it looks even in that extreme color."

"My girlfriend?" said Remus, blinking in astonishment.

"Yes--I noticed her the minute I walked in. I'm always on the lookout for my competitors work. And hers is the most remarkable color that I've seen in ages."

Remus coughed uncomfortably. "She's...not my girlfriend. We're just friends."

"Oh!" said Desi. "Sorry. I shouldn't make assumptions like that."

"It's alright," said Remus. Did we really look that much like a couple? She's the second one tonight to make that assumption. "And you don't need to worry about her stylist stealing any of your business. She does her own hair."

"Really?" asked Desdemona, with wide eyes. "Is she a stylist?"

"No. She just has a certain natural advantage. You see, she's a metamorphmagus."

"Wow! I've never met a real-life metamorphmagus. I've read all about them, of course. When I was a little girl I used to fantasize about what it would be like to look like someone completely different whenever I wanted to. But I always thought that metamorphmagi generally tried to look as ordinary as possible, so that they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. Your friend doesn't seem too concerned about that."

Remus grinned. "Not at all. In fact, I think she rather likes standing out in a crowd. She has the most amazing array of colors--most of them ones you would never find in the natural range of human hair-color. Sometimes--like tonight--she'll coordinate her hair to match her outfit. Other times she'll use it to reflect her mood--or even to play a joke on someone. Once, I caught her napping on the sofa, and her hair was morphing of its own accord, right along with her dreams. It was the most remarkable thing I've ever seen." He remembered that day very well indeed. She had come straight over after a night shift guarding the Department of Mysteries, and after consuming an extraordinarily large breakfast, she went up to the parlor and fell fast asleep on her favorite sofa. After cleaning the kitchen, he came up to find her curled up around a fluffy throw pillow--clutching it close to her heart. He had sat and watched her sleeping for nearly an hour before she woke up, and in that time her hair had fluctuated through more than a dozen different colors before settling on her favorite bubble-gum pink. She had awakened with a sweet smile on her face. When he told her what had been happening in her sleep, and asked her what she had been dreaming, she just blushed, and claimed that she couldn't remember.

The happy memory prompted him to glance back out at the dance floor, where she and the Quidditch player were still dancing. His face fell, and he unconsciously let out a sigh.

"I think she would be, if you asked her," said Desi, unexpectedly breaking into his melancholy reverie.

"Would be what?" he asked in confusion.

"Your girlfriend. I think she would be if you asked her."

"Wait--you think that she would be my girlfriend if I asked her to be?" he parroted.

"Yes," she said with a broad grin. "I've been watching the two of you off and on all night, and I'm pretty certain that she fancies you just as much as you fancy her."

"Do you really think so?" he said eagerly, leaning forward.

"Definitely."

"But... how can you tell? And how could you tell that I fancy her?" Remus felt slightly juvenile--like he was talking about a playground crush--but he was too interested in her opinion to care.

"Body language," said Desdemona with an air of confidence. "I'm a chronic people-watcher, and I know all about body language. They way you two were acting, I was sure you were already a couple. I was surprised when you said you weren't."

Remus wanted very much to believe her, but he still had his reservations. "If she fancies me so much, then why is she out there dancing with that bloke?" He said, pointing out at the dance-floor.

Desi followed his gesture out to where Nymphadora was dancing. "Oh, she's not really interested in him. Look how she keeps trying to edge away from him." They watched for another minute, as the Quidditch man kept trying to close in on her, and she kept moving away from him. During a crescendo in the music, the man made a sudden move to close the gap, and Nymphadora seemed to trip and stumble away from him while he clutched at his foot.

Desi laughed. "See! She just stomped on him!"

"She's always had a clumsy streak," replied Remus.

"Oh--this had nothing to do with clumsiness," said Desi. "She stomped him on purpose."

Remus' smile began to grow.

"I think," continued Desi, "that she's just dancing with him to be polite. Or maybe even to make you jealous. Girls do things like that, you know."

"So you really think she fancies me," he repeated, almost to himself.

"I would put money on it," she said.

"Another friend was telling me the same thing earlier, but I didn't believe him." Remus continued to stare out at Nymphadora, who had managed to put a sizable distance between herself and her pursuer, despite the crowded confines of the dance floor.

"You should have more faith in your friends."

"You're right."

The current song ended. As he watched, Nymphadora seemed to be excusing herself from Balfour's group, and from her Quidditch playing-admirer.

"Here she comes," said Desi. "I'd better go, and leave the two of you alone."

"But--what should I do?" asked Remus desperately. "Just, tell her how I feel?"

"That's one approach. Or you could just show her how you feel, by doing something impulsive and romantic. She seems like the type that would appreciate that sort of thing."

"Impulsive and romantic. That's...remarkably vague."

Desi laughed. "Don't worry. You'll think of something. I'd best be going now." She rose to her feet.

Remus turned back to her, trying to collect his wits. He couldn't let his own situation distract him from the fact that his young friend seemed to be having problems of her own. "Wait! Desi, are things... alright with you and your parents?"

She smiled down at him, but looked a little sad. "Not really. I had another huge row with them this week. That's why my friends brought me here, to cheer me up."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Lupin. You've helped me enough by letting me talk your ear off for a while. I can manage my parents. And I've got my friends to help."

Remus nodded. "Friends are one of our most valuable assets in life. I'm glad you've got some that you can count on."

"Me too. And if you change your mind about that color-treatment, just owl me."

"I will."

"See you later, Mr. Lupin."

"Good-bye, Desdemona." And with that, she headed off into the crowd.

Remus' thoughts were still spinning in his head, but in a far pleasanter manner than they had been before his conversation with Desi.

And he had no time to collect those spinning thoughts before Nymphadora was back, plopping down into the chair across from him. She looked cross.

"So--I guess your promises don't mean much, do they?" she said.

"I'm sorry, Nymphadora. I was detained by a conversation with an old student of mine. I lost track of time."

"Humph. So for the second time tonight, you spend your time away from me flirting with your beautiful young admirers."

"I wasn't flirting with them!"

"Well, you were letting them flirt with you, which is almost as bad."

Her pouty expression reminded him quite suddenly of a conversation they had nearly a month earlier. Nymphadora had been teasing him that she knew someone who was romantically interested in him, and refused to tell him who it was. As the memory of that night flooded back into his mind, it occurred to him for the first time that she may have been talking about herself. Good Lord, I'm a dunce sometimes. Time to salvage this while I still can

"How about this, then," he said. "For the rest of the night, I won't let anyone flirt with me but you. Is that an acceptable arrangement?" Remus watched in delight as her cross expression blossomed into a smile.

"I think I could live with that," she replied. "And I don't really blame you for wanting to avoid Eddy's group, after the way his empty-headed fiancée treated you."

Remus shrugged. "I'm used to it by now."

"You shouldn't be."

"Just let it go. Don't let it ruin your night."

She sighed. "All right. I just don't see how you aren't bothered by that sort of thing. I'd never be able to keep my cool the way you do. And speaking of trying to keep my cool--I almost lost it out there when I was accosted by some bloke claiming to be a professional Quidditch player--like that would impress me. I let him dance with me once, to be polite, but when you didn't show up to run him off, he refused to leave. He actually started offering to show me his 'broom'. Uck! Men can be so disgusting."

Remus nodded in mock agreement--feeling delighted by her rejection of Wood's friend. "Yes, we certainly can."

Nymphadora laughed. "I didn't mean you, Remus. You're always a perfect gentleman."

"Except when I abandon you to the advances of vulgar Quidditch players."

"True. So you're always a perfect gentleman except when you've had too much to drink."

"That's more like it."

"I think I know a way you can make it up to me," she said with a smile.

"And what exactly is that?" Remus was feeling better with each passing minute. He was still somewhat apprehensive about the prospect of starting a fully-fledged romantic relationship after so many years of determined singleness, but in his current state of intoxicated excitement, he just didn't care.

She stretched out her hand to him. "Dance with me, Remus."

He took her hand in his. "Gladly." Together, they stood and turned toward the nearest set of stairs down to the dance floor.

"I must warn you," he said, "I haven't done this sort of dancing since I was younger than you are. I might just embarrass you."

"I'm not much of a dancer myself," she replied. "So we can be embarrassed together."

"It sounds delightful," he said, drawing closer to her. All the nervousness he had felt during their last conversation was gone. Right now, staring down at her smiling face, everything felt perfectly natural. Like it was meant to be.

Suddenly, a piercing screaming cut through the noise. "Help!" cried the screaming woman, from near the bar. "It's Sirius Black!"

Other women took up the screams of "Sirius Black!", and dozens of club patrons started running toward the exit in a mass of confusion that quickly spread from the bar to the dance floor.

Remus looked Nymphadora in the eye, and said the first thing that came to his mind. "Oh, shit!"