A Year in the Life

XI. Holiday

"What on earth do you think you're doing?"

Minerva McGonagall, in nightclothes and dressing gown, peered down a line of books in her bookcase, wand at the ready. Behind her, a recently-arrived Remus Lupin was watching her as if she'd gone mad.

"Doxies," she said. "Is the door shut?"

She heard him close it, and his footsteps on her carpet.

"You know, I am professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts," he said.

"I'm aware of this."

"I am also the man who spends most of his free time thinking up ways to get you alone," he added, softly. She knew he saw her smile. "You're allowed to call on me to do this kind of thing. Encouraged, even."

"I should think I could handle a few doxies on my own."

"The point is, you shouldn't have to. Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts," he repeated. "I can show you my pay vouchers."

"Do you know, every time I think of Professor Remus J. Lupin, I come up with this image of a sixth-year student who got his head stuck in a wall sconce while trying to catch a loose pixie."

He sighed. "I should have known you'd bring it up, sooner or later."

"Be grateful I haven't told your students."

"You wouldn't!"

"It could be arranged."

She felt firm fingers on her shoulders, thumbs kneading her neck.

"With two of us here," he said, in her ear, bent over to follow her line of sight along the books, "We could handle them easily. I'll expel them and you freeze them. Then we'll toss them in a spare aquarium and I'll terrify my first-years with them."

Discussing the disposal of wayward Magical Creatures should probably not send tingles down her spine the way it did.

"Or I suppose we could leave them for now, and fortify ourselves with breakfast," he added. "It is the first day of holidays, after all. No reason to go looking for more work."

"They're not going to get up and leave my bookcase on their own," she said, rebelliously, but his thumb was still making small circles on her neck, and his voice was entirely rational.

"It'll be an education for them, I'm sure," he said, straightening as she did to avoid bumping into her. "Come have breakfast."

"If you don't mind, Professor Lupin, I do think I need to dress myself, first," she said, drawing the dressing gown tighter around her shoulders. He grinned, and kissed her. She could tell that he'd meant it as a cursory gesture, but he had a charming inability to control himself, and it was several seconds before they parted.

"I'll meet you in the Great Hall?" he asked, eyes bright. She knew her own probably matched his.

"Save me some toast," she answered, pushing him gently towards the door. He went, reluctantly, and she could hear him linger in the hallway before his footsteps began to move towards the main corridor.

***

With only a handful of students and a few professors remaining over the holidays, the Great Hall was echoingly empty, and seating rank was not so closely followed. Remus still sat at one end of the table, as befit a junior professor, with Severus nearly all the way at the other, because it was bad form for Professors to attempt grevious bodily harm on each other in front of the students. Normally Headmaster Dumbledore would be in the middle, with Minerva on one side and Professor Flitwick on the other; today, however, neither Dumbledore nor Flitwick were to be seen, and Minerva came to sit with Remus as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Remus could not help a small bubble of satisfaction when he saw that Snape had been joined by Hagrid. It wasn't that he didn't like Hagrid, but he knew Snape didn't.

"I was thinking," he said, over his eggs, once she'd begun to eat, "that perhaps you might want to accompany me to Hogsmeade this afternoon."

"Do you mean after I dispatch the doxies in my sitting room?"

"Do you mean after we dispatch the doxies in your sitting room?"

"Point well taken, Professor," she said, taking a sip of lukewarm tea. "Would this visit to Hogsmeade be of the dinner variety?"

"It might include dinner," he allowed. "Actually I've some Christmas shopping to do, and I hate shopping in general. So, as per our previous agreement that dinner at Graves' was in the offing..."

She fought down a smile; it wasn't decorous in front of the students.

"After we dispatch the doxies in my sitting room," she said firmly. He nodded agreeably, and continued his breakfast.

She watched him, interestedly; it was unusual for her to actually be able to keep an eye on him at meals without leaning around Dumbledore. His eyes flicked over the students regularly, and she had the feeling that even if all the students at Hogwarts were in the Great Hall, he would still find out Harry Potter, most of the time.

It was natural, she supposed. Remus and Harry's father had been friends at school. She knew he felt protective of the boy; he had once nearly wept, in her office, over his inability to keep Harry from harm. Not that it was his job, she'd reminded him. Not alone, at any rate.

"I think perhaps we ought to see to those doxies," she said, to take his mind off of what looked, to her, like a really fantastic brood in the making. He glanced at her, and grinned. It took ten years off his face, when he smiled like that.

It was two hours of work before they were rid of the vicious little creatures, especially while avoiding their bite; Remus let out a relieved sigh as he clamped a lid on the small aquarium he'd conjured to store them in.

"I suppose I'd best put these in the classroom," he said, leaning on the lid and tilting his head to crack the bones in his neck. "Perhaps we can mee -- mmm..."

The end of his suggestion was lost in a kiss, surprising and pleasant, as she leaned forward, her fingers resting on his arms. He slid sideways, away from the aquarium, still kissing her; she let her hands move up to his shoulders as his own hesitantly circled her waist.

"You know I'd do the removal as a public service," he said, around kisses and touches that were moving slightly beyond common propriety. "Tips are welcome, of course, but -- "

"You talk too much," she replied, solving the problem by kissing him soundly. He laughed into her mouth, and stepped back, hand rising to stroke her cheek.

"You're just trying to distract me from Hogsmeade," he said, mocking sulkiness.

"Do you really want to go?"

"No," he admitted. "But I have to -- oh..." he took hold of her wrists, firmly, and kissed her with finality. "I have to. I've finally money for decent Christmas presents this year. Some years I couldn't even send cards. I'm a wretched friend, really."

"I doubt that," she said, straightening his collar. "Who do you send them to? I would imagine, considering your travels, you haven't had much time to spend in making acquaintances."

He ran a hand through his hair, re-ordering it. "Well, it's mostly old school mates and that. Dumbledore, of course, to let him know I'm still alive. I try to write to Alastor Moody when I can, he likes to hear from me. Protege of his, as it were."

"Alastor -- Mad-Eye Moody?"

"The very one. Taught me loads about Dark Arts. A couple others from the old Order..." he bit his lip, watching as she tucked some stray strands of hair into her bun. "I tried to send cards to Harry, but they all came back, and finally I gave up. I don't know if it was Dumbledore's protections, or Harry's family..."

"Probably both."

"Could be. At any rate...well, I don't suppose I can buy Harry a gift now that I'm his teacher," he sighed. "But Dumbledore, I owe him for getting me this job, and Hagrid's been most helpful, I think I ought to get him a book on not murdering his students with magical creatures...and...and there's you, of course..."

"Me?"

"Well, yes," he said, as she opened the door, leading the way out and into the hallway. "I think, considering everything, especially everything between ten minutes ago and now, that you are definitely on the Christmas list."

She smiled, and walked at his side down the staircase, and out onto the grounds, heading for the bridge to Hogsmeade. For years, her only association with the bridge was of chaperoning schoolchildren across it; now, as they passed the posts on the other side, she felt a small shiver of pleasure knowing they had stood there and kissed, not long ago at all. She saw his eyes, on her, and knew he was thinking the same thing.

***

"Well, I feel the day was not mis-spent," Remus said, over the remains of his meal that evening. Minerva, although she had discovered his major character flaw that afternoon -- he could not properly shop to save his life -- did have to agree. He'd found a muffler for Moody that screamed out when poison was anywhere near; a book on sweetsmaking for Dumbledore; something he wouldn't let her see, for herself; and a few various knicknacks for people she didn't know, everything to be sent up to his office at Hogwarts.

She'd also caught him looking longingly at the Quidditch books, muttering about teachers showing favouritism, before turning reluctantly away.

"I feel it would have had to go a lot worse to be considered wasted," she agreed. "Shall we ask for the check?"

He smiled. "It's taken care of."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, is it?"

He was standing, pulling on his cloak. "I did them a favour, got rid of some troublesome magical...infestations, in one of the unused storage rooms. They offered me free meals for the rest of the school year. Remus Lupin plus guest," he finished, whimsically.

They stepped out into the bitter December evening, tugging their cloaks tight against the icy wind.

"Going to be a cold holiday," Remus said, kicking a flurry of snow across the road, idly.

"Do you think so?" she asked, wrapping her cloak tighter. He nodded, blowing on his gloved hands.

"Don't mind, really. Nice to stay inside, find a book...or some company," he added, as they passed onto the bridge back to Hogwarts, neither of them willing to stop, this time, in the chill night air. "I've papers to grade, other work to do. Never an empty moment," he added, almost...wistfully.

"And of course someone has to keep some sort of eye on the children still at school," she said quietly. "I expect you'll want to be on your guard, there."

"Sirius is still free," he said, his voice hardening slightly.

"I wasn't reproaching your motivations, Remus," she said softly. "Merely your resolution to always follow them alone."

"Dumbledore called me here as much for my protection as for anyone else's," he continued, as the castle loomed before them, the candlelit windows looking warm and inviting. "I won't do anything stupid. But it's always there, in the back of my mind. Sirius is free."

She linked her arm with his, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Let it stay there, then. In the back of your mind. You can occupy the rest with better thoughts."

"Hmm," he answered, and she could feel his shoulders relax. "I'm not unhappy here."

"So you've said."

"Besides, I have all those free meals at Graves'."

She laughed, and began to step away as they approached the school, but he caught her arm and pulled her into the shadows of the entrance hall. He kissed her, one hand on her cheek, the other around her waist. It was affectionate, but there was a certain desperation in the way he held her, the way he hesitated.

"Here's where we part ways," she said, leaning into him, feeling his heartbeat through his clothes.

"Or..." he said, uncertainly. He still smelled of the snow, and tasted like the wine they'd had at dinner.

"Or?" she asked, leaning back and lifting an eyebrow. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she imagined he blushed.

"Or you could come to my rooms," he said softly.

She paused for a moment, to kiss him again, and then replied.

"No, I think not."

He looked more puzzled than hurt; he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and tilted his head.

"Can I ask why?" he said softly.

She stepped back, and tugged his hand gently.

"My bed's bigger," she said, with a smile.

He seemed stunned, for a moment, and then a wide grin broke across his own face, and he followed her into the castle, up the stairs to the corridor leading to her rooms.

XII. Awakening

She hadn't thought him a particularly modest man, though of course she knew he was somewhat shy; it wasn't until she saw the trace of a scar on his leg that she realised why, and was patient, though her breath came short and quick and she saw the faint blush of desire on his face, the deep, quiet want in his eyes...

Slow waking, and the warmth of bodies; the press of skin on skin, knees tucked into knees, secured by a firm, a surprisingly strong arm around the waist. Slide of fingers over bared, sensitive places. Even breathing. Warmth, under the blankets, shared warmth.

"Good morning," said Remus Lupin, in her ear. She opened her eyes, and smiled.

"How did you know I was awake?" she asked, feeling his hand shift slightly on her stomach.

"I guessed," he replied, breath making the skin below her ear tingle. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," she answered, voice low and throaty from sleep, closing her eyes again. The smile stayed. "You?"

"I can't complain," he replied, and she laughed a little. "Although..."

"Mm?"

"We are faced with an important decision," he said, his tones mock-serious.

"It's too early for decisions."

You have to understand, he'd said, it's not as though this is something I do very often.

And there it was, dark on his skin. There they were really, two jagged scars where the jaws of the wolf had clamped around his thigh --

Six inches more and I'd be singing soprano all my born days, he'd said with a smile, and she'd said Remus, pain does make you flippant.

Oh, it doesn't hurt anymore.

That's not what I meant.

"Well, either I ought to leave now, to avoid the possibility of being caught sneaking out of the Headmistress' rooms..." he said, and she laughed at the thought, "or you're stuck with me until we make it look like I was just having an early breakfast with you."

"Stay," she mumbled, sliding her own hand over his. She heard his breath hitch, slightly.

"I was hoping you'd say that," he answered. They were still for some minutes; neither of them needed to speak, to enjoy the closeness, and she suspected that he was giving her time to wake up more fully.

"There is one more thing," he said, nuzzling the back of her neck.

"Oh...?"

"Christmas," he continued. "I want you to have dinner in the Great Hall, with the others."

"Well, of course, I -- " she paused. "Won't you be there?"

"Unfortunately not. Christmas eve happens to be the height of the full moon. And I don't want you skipping the feast on account of me, since I will probably be fast asleep for the whole thing."

"Sick on Christmas," she said softly. "How awful."

You should think about this, about me, what I am --

Do you mean, she'd said, a brown-haired man who teaches children, who likes brandy in his tea and puts his scrambled eggs on his toast?

You know what I mean. What I am, he'd answered wretchedly, tilting his head so the hair screened his face.

Who you are, I know. What you are, I don't care.

Oh my God.

"It happens. It's worse when it comes on my birthday," said Remus, and she could hear the forced good humour in his voice.

She considered for a moment before speaking. "Would you like me to come see you?"

"You can if you like, though I can't imagine I'll be very entertaining," he replied, and again there was that note of false bravado, false humour. She'd heard it too often in students who were desperate not to show that some fear or loss was clawing at their insides, trying to break free. She heard it most often in those who were least likely to ever admit it.

"We'll have tea in the morning, like last time," she said. "And I'll bring you some dinner before the feast."

"There's really no need -- "

"Nonsense. It's Christmas."

She'd pushed the hair out of his eyes, made him look at her.

I should have known, he'd whispered, as she pulled him close, as his arms went around her waist. This was always my home, always where I found myself. I should never have stayed away so long.

You're here now.

He'd smiled, his whole face lighting up.

I am.

His hands had moved suddenly, sliding up her back, tangling in her hair, and his mouth was demanding on hers...

He fell silent, and after a moment she felt him move to prop himself up on one elbow, so that he could see her face. She turned her head, slightly, and let him kiss her -- unhurried, no longer anxious as he had been in those first few days. And she'd been nervous too, she could admit, only she was more adept at hiding it.

It wasn't passion, so much as a very thorough affection, that drove the kiss. Which was, she thought, how their entire...romance? Affair?...had gone.

"In some ways, Minerva," he said, resting his forehead on hers, "You are quite a revelation."

"Of all the things I've been called by men, I don't think revelations were ever mentioned," she replied. Their bodies began to move, to shift slightly into the increasingly familiar and far more intimate touches of the night before.

"You are unique," he continued, pausing for another kiss. "You're stern but evenhanded..." A slide of hips -- "You're strict but the children love you..." Hands, touching, his arms supporting him over her, "You have the ability to admit when you're wrong, though you rarely ever are...and you apologise. Which frankly," he was silenced for a moment by her mouth, "is very nearly unheard of." He paused and drew back, to look at her, brown eyes warm and dancing with real good humour now. "Besides, as I believe I've mentioned, you kiss exceptionally well."

"Kiss?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He made a low noise in the back of his throat.

"And other things," he said, and when she laughed, softly, he moved again, beginning to prove his point.

I never thought...

Then what were we doing, up until now?

I don't know, he'd admitted. Enjoying each other's company?

And she'd laughed, low in the back of her throat, and he'd realised why, and joined her. And then there was no reason not to kiss, and touch, and no reason not to share her big bed, warm under the blankets, warm against her body.

***

"You know, I wasn't entirely enthusiastic about the holiday," Remus said, as he buttoned the collar on his shirt. She straightened it, slightly.

"Oh? I thought you'd welcome the quiet."

"Well, I do. And the company," he added. "Certainly enjoying that."

She smiled.

"But...I like keeping busy. I suppose I've papers to grade, and lesson plans to make, and the rest. For all my talk in Hogsmeade, I just didn't see how I was going to keep myself occupied."

"And now?"

"Well, I've managed the first day or two, haven't I?" he asked, pulling her close before she could finish dressing. "We've missed breakfast."

"I don't care."

"Mm, me either," he agreed. "And I think I could quite easily fill up my days this way. I say we make a habit out of it."

She gave him a blandly inquiring look. "A habit out of what, Professor Lupin?"

"I was referring to the idea of Hogsmeade, Headmistress. Say, tea and scones, every afternoon, in Hogsmeade. Dignified...unimpeachably civilised..."

"An opportunity for more walks in the snow?" she asked, amused. He gave her a guilty grin. "The faculty will talk."

He tensed, and she knew it had been the wrong thing to say. After a moment he pushed his hair out of his eyes, and met hers directly.

"If you're rethinking what you said last night -- I understand, if you and I were linked..."

"Oh, no -- Remus, that wasn't what I meant at all," she said, as he pulled away. "I only meant that..."

The miserable, closed look on his face could break hearts.

"I meant that they always do, when two professors are involved," she said. "That's all. I wanted to warn you. Remus..."

He let himself be drawn back into an embrace, and even returned it, after a minute.

"I don't care if you're werewolf, vampire, human, or anything else under the sun," she said. "What I care about is that your first year here isn't marked by cruel talk. Any more than it has been," she added, knowing that his first few weeks had been difficult -- and not made any easier by her, she recalled.

"You don't know how many people...when they find out. It's so ugly," he said quietly, against her hair.

She smiled. "Believe it or not, animagi don't have it precisely easy all the time, either."

"Yes, but a housecat doesn't have the reputation of mindlessly going for the jugular."

"Obviously you've never owned cats," she said, and he laughed. "Remus. I want this. As long as you do. If you don't mind the talk, I won't."

"I don't mind," he said, stepping back. "It'll be a relief to hear Snape go on about something other than my lycanthropy."

"And don't think he won't," she said, only a little sourly. "For someone who claims to hate people, he certainly likes gossip."

"Good, I'll be paying him back for the Wolfsbane, then."

She let him step away, and they continued dressing, in comfortable silence.

"Tea, then?" he asked, kissing her quickly and resting his hand on the doorknob. "Four o'clock?"

"I'll meet you on the bridge to Hogsmeade," she said.

She heard him whistling, as he left.