The Waning Gibbous

The Last Quarter

by Jo the Phoenix

Remus Lupin sat up on the couch where he had spent his night, or, technically, morning, as he didn't lay down to sleep until one-thirty. He stood, and stared up at the window in his office's ceiling, wondering what in the hell he had been thinking. He stretched out his shoulders, which had gotten sore from lying on the sofa, as he muttered insults to himself. He ran his hands through his graying hair, and he swore.

He had spent the morning doing pretty much the same thing, as he mentally kicked himself for kissing Harry. What had he been thinking? A tiny voice in his head whispered that he didn't force Harry, and that Harry had seemed to enjoy it as much as he had. Remus silenced this little voice with more insults and fearful questioning. "What am I going to do now? When will they find out? Will they find out? Am I going to lose my job? What will Dumbledore say? What does Harry really think?"

As Remus thought about the prospect of losing his job, he suddenly realized that it was past nine-thirty, and that he taught his first class at ten o'clock. He was wearing the same robes as yesterday, and he needed a shower. He hurriedly scooped up paperwork and crammed it into his briefcase as he rushed out his office door, heading for his bedroom.

He fearfully looked up and down the corridors as he made his way past classrooms and the library. As he began to get his confidence back, he turned a corner and, quite literally, ran into Headmistress McGonagall.

As she beheld him, (hair sticking up on one side, unshaven, wearing yesterday's robes), she started and shook her head, no doubt thinking that he had been "getting to know" the new intern in the library. The tiny woman had desperately tried to get and hold Remus' attention at the Head table last night during the feast.

"Remus, you are fully aware that you have a class to teach in less than twenty minutes?" Professor McGonagall said, raising an eyebrow and making her statement into a question, deciding to ignore the disheveled appearance of the man that stood before her.

"Yes, Professor, I am." Remus stammered, hoping and praying that this would be the end of their chance meeting. It was, and Remus sighed in relief when she walked away. She was not a gossip, and so no one would ever know about the dash for his bedroom the first morning that he was back.

When Remus reached his room, he threw his briefcase on his bed, and tore off his robes. He stepped into the shower in the tiny bathroom, and was soon enveloped in steam. The hot water seemed to wash everything away, and as he stepped out of the rivulet of water, shaved and clean, he was humming. He breathed in the steam, and went out into his bedroom. Shivering a little in the sudden cold, dry air, he crossed to his trunk, which had not yet been unpacked, though he had been at Hogwart's for close to a week now. Remus opened it and pulled out his clothes. He peered around for his wand, and remembered that he put it in his briefcase. Using the charm that Mrs. Weasley had taught him, he successfully removed all of the wrinkles from his robe before he put it on. He slammed his briefcase shut and ran for the door.

As his hand touched the doorknob, he stopped dead. He was teaching third years this morning. He was planning on teaching them about Boggarts. Would his Boggart still be the moon? They all knew about his lycanthropy, so it wasn't a big deal if it was. But would the Boggart turn into something else? Remus stood inside his bedroom, picturing Professor McGonagall talking with the library intern, talking with Harry. Finding out. Remus pictured his class talking about him, pointing and whispering behind their hands; he envisioned eyes following him down the hallways. "There he goes..." He pictured the same eyes following Harry.

"Oh-no." Remus put his forehead on the cool door and thought for a few moments before coming to the obvious conclusion... stay away from the Boggart, let the students handle it. What if something happened, if the students couldn't handle it? He would be forced to step in. Perhaps the Boggart would still be the moon. Or perhaps he could come up with a good way to make McGonagall look funny for the Riddikulus charm. Maybe he could imagine her performing a Memory Modification spell on herself. Remus chuckled as he pictured Minerva pointing her wand at herself and shouting Obliviate! He saw her falling down, her hair flying out of its bun, her feet up in the air, her robes fluttering as she got up with no idea what had happened. As he laughed, he realized that he would have no problem banishing that Boggart if it did turn into Professor McGonagall. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with that.

Composing himself after his moments of worry, and his laughing jag, he confidently walked to the Defense classroom. His confidence cracked as he beheld his class. Half of them were cowering as they had in the Great Hall, and the others had been whispering and snickering up until the second that he walked in. The class was Hufflepuff and Slytherin third years, and they were silent as Remus stood at the front of the classroom. Remus' mind clenched firmly on the imagined scene of Minerva yelling Obliviate! and he began to teach.

As Remus slowly made his way back to his office, he realized that he was exhausted. All day, his mind had chased endless circles around Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore, but mostly Harry. The Boggart had turned out to be no problem, the students had banished it admirably on their own, ("But only after they had assured themselves that I wouldn't transform and eat them..." Remus had thought bitterly as he finished the class.) His afternoon class had gone wonderfully. The seventh years were silent, already concentrating on studying for their NEWT's. All he had done was lecture about defensive blocks for disarming spells. Then they had practiced, silent except for the occasional shouts of Expelliarmus! and Defendolus! and working hard. Now that Remus had no more classes to teach today, he decided to go back to bed. Pushing his way through the crowds, he reached his office without incident, managing to think only of resting, not of Dumbledore or of Harry. As he opened his office door, he heard someone calling him. Sighing inwardly, he turned and saw that it was Ron Weasley.

Ron hurried up to Remus' office and smiled. "Hi, Professor Lupin! How're you?" Ron unconsciously straightened the Prefect badge pinned to the front of his robes.

"I'm alright, Ron. How was your first day of class?" Remus slowly walked into his office, slinging his case onto the desk, hoping that this visit wouldn't last long.

"Not bad," Ron said absently, peering curiously around the jam-packed room, much as Harry had the night before. "Care of Magical Creatures is always interesting... 'cept the time that Hagrid had us taking care of Flobberworms." Ron cringed. "And Divination is usually good for a laugh. But it wasn't today."

"Oh? Professor Trelawney wasn't up to her usual standard?" Remus smiled as he sat on his desk, feet swinging.

"No, no. She was as spooky as ever, but there was something off about Harry. All day." Ron was still peering around the office.

Remus' insides froze, but he maintained his calm on the exterior as he toyed with one of the many quills that littered his desk. "What do you mean, Ron?"

"He said that he hadn't slept well, and he was... I dunno... pre-occupied, I guess you could say. Did you see him at all today?" Ron asked.

"I taught third years today," Remus said. He kept secret the fact that he had indeed seen Harry for an hour and a half at the very beginning of the day without actually lying. A little deception never hurt anyone. "Didn't you have classes together?"

"Yeah, but I meant between classes. Hermione and I had meetings at lunch, and we didn't see him after that. Hermione's at Hagrid's right now, seeing if Harry's been there, and if Hagrid knows what might be wrong with him," Ron explained.

"I see. Well, I hope that he's alright," Remus said quietly.

"I'm sure that he'll explain what's been buggin' him. To someone, even if it's not me." Ron again fingered his shiny Prefect badge and shrugged. "I hope it's nothing."

"He's probably had a long summer. He'll come around, I'm sure," Remus laughed lightly, but his mind was reeling.

"If he does show up here... well, let him know that we're worried about him," Ron said. "I guess I'll try to wrangle him in Griffindor Tower. Maybe he's there now." Ron rose and smiled at Remus as he left.

When Remus was sure that Ron was gone, he lay back on his desk, the quill that he'd been playing with crumpled in his hand. He shut his eyes, and hoped to goodness that Harry was alright.

--Fifteen hours earlier--

"I don't want to go."

"Harry, it's one in the morning."

"I know."

"What happens if someone wonders where you are?"

"Let them wonder."

"Harry..."

He sighed and looked up at Remus sitting beside him. "I don't want to go."

"I don't want you to go, either, but Harry, we both have classes in the morning. We have to think!"

"I know." He was resigned now, and it hurt Remus in some peculiar way. "I want to stay a little while longer." Harry's head was on Remus' chest now, his black hair tickling Remus' chin.

"I want you to stay, too," Remus said as he petted Harry's soft hair down, "but we have to think."

"What is this, Remus?"

"This?" Remus gave a small, uncertain shrug. "I don't know, Harry."

They were silent for a while, sitting on the soft green couch, staring up at the moon.

"I should go."

"...Alright."

Remus slowly recalled events from the evening before as he lay unmoving on his desk. He tried desperately to think of what had possessed him to kiss Harry. They had spent the evening here in his office, and they had kissed like there was no tomorrow! He was very glad that no one had walked by his office, because the door had been left open the whole time. They had wound up sitting very close together on the couch, holding hands and staring up at the moon for hours. Remus simply enjoyed the warmth of Harry next to him.

Remus did like Harry. Did he like him like that? That was impossible! "It must have been a 'caught-up-in-the-moment' thing." Remus thought. But, as he reassured himself that it was a one-time only occurrence, something inside him wished that Harry were here right now.

Remus remained on his desk, ignoring the ink well that was digging into his ribs. He didn't move until someone knocked on his office door a few hours later. It was Harry.

"We need to talk," he said quietly, biting at his lip.

"Yes. I know."