Why Bother?

CHAPTER TWO – Possibilities

    Remus blinked, stunned; a slow numbing sensation devoured his toes. The shock and disbelief were almost palpable. It felt precisely as if Lucius Malfoy had walked up to him in a corridor and snogged him.

    Well, maybe not precisely.

    After all, Remus wasn’t throwing up.

    He blinked yet again. The words were still there, black-and-white confirmation of an otherwise unbelievable fact. Utterly bizarre truths tangible in onyx ink.

    It was impossible to swallow. Professor Persephone Sullivan, whose students affectionately called her “Percy” and who offered Chocolate Frogs when said students had insights during a lesson – Voldemort’s aunt?

    Remus’ thoughts suddenly turned to Arthur Weasley and Molly Levine. The pair had been in the same graduating class as Professor Sullivan; Molly had been her best friend all throughout her Hogwarts days. Arthur and Molly were the most dedicated to the Order of the Phoenix – Dumbledore’s elite warriors in the battle against Voldemort – he’d ever seen. Percy – no, Professor Sullivan – was to be Molly’s Maid of Honor in Molly and Arthur’s wedding the following year.

    Did this open up the possibility that neither Molly or Arthur could be completely trusted?

    What if everyone in the Order was a spy for Voldemort, and no one knew it? What if this was all a huge conspiracy to lull the anti-Voldemort wizards into a feeling of safety, and then You-Know- Who killed everyone anyway? What if – Remus’ stomach turned at the very thought – what if this was all a hoax, and someone was waiting behind the curtains of Peter’s corner bed to leap out at Remus and yell “Smile, you’re on Candid Camera!”

    What the hell?

    Remus suddenly realized that he was being absolutely ridiculous. There was obviously more than one Persephone Sullivan in the wizarding world. It had to be the other Persephone that was Voldemort’s close relation.

    He sighed, convinced at last that his previous shock had been nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination. Remus imagined Sirius’s reaction to his previous misconception. He’d laugh, and tell “Remmie” that this was what came from studying too much. Or he’d grow worried and ask if Remus had been reading Anne Rice again.

    Anne Rice was a damn good author, too.

    Remus frowned. No, better not tell Sirius. The rumor that Professor Sullivan was Voldemort’s aunt – or not – would be all over Gryffindor Tower by morning. Sirius Black wasn’t known as “The Mouth” just for his snogging abilities . . . or so people said. Nah, this was one to keep to himself.

*    *    *

    A week passed, and the werewolf soon forgot about what he’d read. With school, the occasional prank, and the delightful friendship of the delicious Sirius Black, Remus was much too distracted to keep up with petty gossip – unlike the rest of the school.

    In the corridors:

    “Did you hear that Professor Voyant is scheduling a field trip to the Oracle at Delphi?”

    “I had no idea, Eunice. But where’s she going to get the funds?”

    “I dunno . . . perhaps they’ll let us Apparate a year early!”

    In the Gryffindor common room:

    “Hillary Cunning’s breaking out again. I swear, that girl’s got more grease on her face than ten thousand mechanics at an Oil Change Convention! It wouldn’t hurt her to wash once in a while.”

    In the Great Hall:

    “Oh my God, THERE HE IS!”

    “There who is?”

    “Over there, sitting next to that red-headed Sixth Year . . . isn’t he adorable?”

    Heads turn.

    “James Potter? Kevin, you don’t think you actually have a chance with him?”

    “Well, no, as he’s straight and all. But I’ll tell you, Lily is so lucky . . .”

    Normally comments such as these went in one ear and out the other. But something about the last statement made Remus stop and pay attention.

    “Lily?” he inquired of the stocky Hufflepuff Beater, Kevin Browning, as he sat and ate breakfast with the other Hufflepuffs.

    Kevin swallowed a particularly troublesome mouthful of bagel-and-peanut-butter. “Yeah, Lily Evans. That Gryffindor Fifth Year?”

    Remus’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Isn’t she a bit . . . well . . .”

    “Anal retentive?” Kevin grinned and laughed loudly. “Yes, that’s what everyone says. Last year everyone knew she was probably going to be made a prefect. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s one of the cutest girls in Gryffindor.”

    “Hmm. I hadn’t noticed.”

    Kevin laughed again. “Well, I suppose that’s what comes from being like you and me, mate.”

    Remus nodded and made his way to the Gryffindor table. He had an idea . . . one that James wouldn’t appreciate, but Sirius most certainly would. A rare smile displayed itself on his face as he sank into the seat next to Sirius. Without ceremony, Remus turned to him and said:

    “What’s this I hear about James and Lily Evans?”

    “You heard something about James and Lily Evans?”

    “Yes.” Remus jerked his thumb towards the Hufflepuffs, now warbling the theme to Rocky Horror Picture Show discreetly under their collective breath. “Kevin Browning said something about ‘Oh, Lily’s so lucky,’ and I couldn’t help but overhear.” He nudged Sirius slyly. “Well? Don’t you have anything to say?”

    The Sirius Orion Black Demented Grin? had, unfortunately, shown up once again. Perfect. Remus smiled; James and the others often assumed he wasn’t manipulative since he wasn’t blatant about it, but that didn’t mean he was unable to control things in his own, less obvious way.

    “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?”

    “ – ience fiction – ooooh – double feature, Dr. X. builds a creature, see an – ”

    Sirius waved his arms in the air. “Friends! Slytherins! Professormen and women! Lend me your shears!”

    “ – stars in Forbidden . . . ” The singing died away.

    After a few moments of confused staring, a random Hufflepuff called, “Don’t you mean ‘ears’? ‘Lend me your ears’?”

    “No, shears.” Sirius displayed another gleaming grin. “I think Jamsie here needs another haircut.” The Hufflepuff groaned.

    “Get to the point, Blackhead,” said a frigid voice with perfect diction from the Slytherin table. A hush fell over the Great Hall. Remus had heard these tones often enough, with searingly sarcastic and piercing wit, displacing even the best of Gryffindors from his or her more placid mind.

    “Thank you, Mr. Snape, for so effectively silencing our audience.” Sirius pulled at the sleeve of his robe – something he only did when he was nervous – but quickly regained his composure. “Apparently our little Jamsie has finally managed to land a date with the lovely Lily Evans. Let’s give them a hand, shall we?” As the assembly clapped and cheered, Sirius rescued a lightly-rouge Lily from her friends and pushed her towards James, where he gave her a small embrace and stared at Sirius. This only resulted in Lily coloring once again.

    Over his girlfriend’s shoulder, James shot Sirius a meaningful glower and mouthed, “You die, Black.”

Sirius winked and sidled over to Remus’s place at the table. Clapping a hand on the young werewolf’s shoulder, he proceeded to seal Remus’s fate as well as his own.

    “I’d also like to thank my good friend and companion, Remus Lupin, for making this moving news available, without whom these precious moments would not have been possible.”

    Remus pulled Sirius down in the seat next to him. “What the blazes d’you think you’re doing?” he hissed. “Now he’ll be after the both of us!”

    Sirius wasn’t looking at Remus, however. “No, he won’t.”

    “And why, may I ask, won’t he?”

    “Because he’s already after us.” Remus turned to see a mauve James making his way through the now-noisy Great Hall towards them.

    “Oh, great. So what do we do now?”

    “Well, at this point, running looks like a viable option.” Lifting himself from the seat, Sirius grabbed Remus’s wrist and hustled him out of the Great Hall, James in heated pursuit. “Got to keep moving . . .” He steered the werewolf through the doors of the large room and into a side corridor.

    “Sirius – slow down – ”

    Acknowledging Remus’s plea, Sirius yanked him through the door of the next convenient room, shut the door, and locked it. “Think he’ll notice much when he turns into the next hallway to find we’re gone?”

    Sirius stared at the door. “I dunno. We’d better stay here for a while, though, just to make sure.”

    Time alone with Sirius, in a deserted room? Remus’s more sensible side was screaming reminders of essays that had to be completed, but the bittersweet temptation of being with Sirius was too potent a poison to resist. He almost choked in suppressed elation as the beguiling Black established himself assertively in the nearby couch. Eager though he was to join him, Remus opted for a back-to-the-door position – safe, for now.

    “Oh, Remmie.” Sirius’s sing-song voice was not helpful at all.

    “Yes?”

    “Come sit with me.” He patted the spot next to him on the couch. Remus glanced just long enough to establish that there was Not Much Space on the seat. Getting that close would be rather . . . uncomfortable.

    “No, I think that I’m okay.”

    Sirius smiled angelically. “Suit yourself.”

    “I think I will.” Remus could hear voices outside the door. Putting his back to the room, he strained his ears to hear through the thick portal.

    Abruptly, he found himself pinned to the wall by Sirius’s sinewy body, arms to either side of the werewolf’s shoulders. His lips just barely brushed Remus’s ear as he whispered in a husky voice, “Not afraid, are you, Remmie?”

    Remus fumbled for words. “N-no, no, of course not.”

    What Sirius did next surprised Remus quite a bit – as if he wasn’t already acting strangely. His nose burrowed momentarily into Remus’s ashy hair and he inhaled, wrapping his arms around the now-greatly-anxious boy.

    “Relax, Remmie darling, I’m not going to bite you. Yet.” Sirius’s nose gently traced a path down through his hair and onto the edgy werewolf’s neck.

    “Sirius, somehow I really don’t think we should be doing this.”

    “Mm?” Sirius stopped burrowing into Remus’s skin long enough to let the words register.

    “This just feels . . . ” . . . so good, he thought, but didn’t say. “I’m not going to be one of your flings, Sirius. It’s not justified at all.”

    “But, Remmie – ” Sirius’s mouth was doing wonderful things to his neck.

    “What are you doing here?” a very masculine, very adult voice interrupted.