Rating:
PG-13
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Minerva McGonagall Remus Lupin
Genres:
Romance Drama
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban
Stats:
Published: 02/05/2004
Updated: 03/24/2004
Words: 41,937
Chapters: 14
Hits: 13,403

A Year in the Life

samvimes

Story Summary:
A different take on history -- see the events of Prisoner of Azkaban through the eyes of Remus Lupin, who is not just a teacher at Hogwarts and a friend of Harry's father, but a man falling in love with the unlikeliest of women...

A Year In The Life 21-22

Chapter Summary:
A different take on history -- see the events of Prisoner of Azkaban through the eyes of Remus Lupin, who is not just a teacher at Hogwarts and a friend of Harry's father, but a man falling in love with the unlikeliest of women.
Posted:
03/24/2004
Hits:
864

XXI. Moony, Prongs, Padfoot, Wormtail

"You will never, in a thousand years, guess what happened today."

Remus Lupin looked up from his chair and his tea. Both were comforts that he was loathe to be without; they were two parts of a formula he'd become used to, over the months.

The third and most important part was sitting at his window-seat, framed by the mid-March early foliage outside, setting down a pile of papers to grade, and smiling at him.

"Other than my getting called onto the carpet by Snape -- who by the way does not have the authority to call me onto any carpet, anywhere -- and being forced to confiscate an extraordinary magical toy from Potter and Weasley?"

She glanced up. "Which Weasley? Is that tea?"

"Ron. Yes -- would you like me to pour?"

"No, I'll do it," she said, rising and crossing to the kettle. "What was Severus angry about?"

"As if he needs a reason," Remus said drily. "He thinks I gave some silly thing to Harry and Ron."

"Did you?"

"Of course not. I took it away from them. Why, what happened to you today?"

"It's not what happened to me. It's what happened to Draco Malfoy."

He sipped his tea, and shifted slightly so that he could watch her as she settled back into the window-seat and picked up her papers, pausing for dramatic effect. He waited.

"Draco Malfoy," she said, "was slapped, in the hallway, by Hermione Granger!"

"I knew it!" he exclaimed. She stared at him.

"Knew what?"

"He propositioned her, didn't he? I was sure that he fancied her!"

Her mouth opened, then closed.

"Er. That is what happened, isn't it?" he asked. "He's always glaring at her in class, and -- "

"They're thirteen!" she said, scandalised.

"Well, that's what boys do when they like a girl -- when I was thirteen -- that's not the issue," he finished hastily. "And I'm sure when you were thirteen -- "

"You weren't born yet, when I was thirteen, so keep a civil tongue in your head if you please, Professor Lupin."

He laughed and stretched, slouching down in the chair. "So what happened? Do you know? Come on, Minerva, you get all the good gossip and you never share any of it."

"All I know is that Malfoy's lurking about with a bruised face and ego, and the Gryffindors are all saying it was Hermione Granger who did it," she answered. "You don't...you don't really think he fancies her, do you? He's such a little..." she paused. "He's a student, and I never speak ill of students," she said primly. "Now, you haven't finished telling me about Severus."

"Not much to tell. Actually it's quite amusing. I wanted to be angry, but really..." he snorted. "Well. When we were boys -- the four of us, you know -- "

"Never saw one without the other three," she sighed.

" -- we took to inventing jokes and the like."

"That explains the low marks you took in sixth-year Divination."

He looked blankly at her. "I'm sure that's not something you've had committed to memory for all these years," he said.

"I went back and looked up your grades," she answered smugly. "So that when you got too cocky, as you have a habit of doing, Professor, I could take you down a peg or two."

"Does the Headmaster know about your mean streak?"

"Why do you think I'm Deputy Headmistress? You were telling me about jokes, I believe."

He frowned. "Right. We invented a bit of parchment that...insults anyone who tries to read it. Somehow it's been circulating since we left -- really, nobody ever throws anything out around this place -- and Harry got hold of it. You wouldn't believe Snape's expression. 'Lupin, I want a word!' he snaps, and so there I go, and when I get there..." he went off into a chuckle. "There's the parchment reading 'Mr. Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball!'"

"Wormtail?" she asked, and she could feel him tense, suddenly.

"It was...er...it was our nickname for Peter. We didn't use our own names, of course," he said warily.

"That's an odd nickname for a boy."

"He picked it," Remus said, somewhat defensively, she thought. She shrugged, and turned back to her paper.

"I do hope Harry's not in too much trouble."

Remus waved a hand. "Harry's fine. Snape's problem is that he doesn't understand that children get up to trouble sometimes."

She glanced up at him. "The sort of trouble James got into when he played pranks on Severus?"

He looked guilty. "But this wasn't like that. It was just a bit of fun."

"Severus doesn't see the distinction."

"Exactly my point!"

"Neither, I must say, do I."

He looked surprised. "Surely you see a difference between owning a bit of rogue parchment and showing the school someone else's unwashed underthings?"

"Not when a Professor turns a tolerant eye," she said. "If a child is led to believe they can get away with smaller infractions, they may attempt the larger."

He mused on this in silence.

"I can't agree," he said finally.

"I'm not asking you to agree. Teachers at Hogwarts adhere to an honour code, but are given leeway within that code for personal interpretation for exactly this reason."

"Yes but...if a student is allowed a little bit of lenience, he rarely wants more than simple pranks. Restrict a child too much, and they rebel all the more."

"And that," she said, with a smile, "Is the secret of good teaching. Knowing how to turn a blind eye without appearing to do so."

He gave her a look of admiration. "So as long as we don't actually look like we're letting them get away with it..."

"I never said a thing," she murmured, returning to her papers. He set his tea on the table and folded his hands. "But you have just figured out in what -- seven months? -- what it took Severus three years to discover." She sighed. "Three extremely trying years."

He smiled, and stood, crossing to stand by her, hand on the back of her neck, looking out the window. She leaned against his hip, affectionately. After a moment, he laughed again, quietly.

"What?"

"Just remembering the look on his face when that parchment told him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other peoples' business," he answered. "I know it's awful of me..."

"Indeed it is," she said severely. "However, I think you might be forgiven."

"Oh?" he asked, wide palm stroking her cheek.

"Well, you did confiscate it from Harry," she answered. "And I imagine saved him from an outrageous punishment at the same time. What will you do with the parchment?"

She could feel something tense in him again, and wondered idly why.

"I put it away in a book," he said, voice tightly controlled. "It was funny at the time, but then when I took it back to my office...seeing all our handwriting like that, it's not...good for me."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully. He moved, crouching, pulling away slightly so that he could kiss her, taking the paper she was grading out of her hands.

"The snow's melted," he said softly.

"We could...make sure no-one's making trouble on the grounds," she suggested. "How do you feel about a walk?"

"I feel a walk would be good," he replied, rising and pulling her off the window seat at the same time. She fell against him, which was, she knew, his entire intent.

He released her after a moment, and reached for his coat.

"I hear the seventh-year Herbology students are growing orchids," he said.

"Those aren't that useful, are they? Magically, I mean?"

"No, but they're delicate -- it's good practice for growing less durable plants, outside of school. Teaches them how to cultivate growing things properly."

"Hmm, not at all like our job," she said, as he held the door. "Lead the way then, Professor Lupin."

"My pleasure, Headmistress," he replied.

XXII. Glory and the Game

The first that either student saw of it were two broad hands, a professor's hands, coming towards them.

Then they saw the ceiling.

"I did try to tell you lads to stop," Remus Lupin said, with a sigh. He didn't like laying hands on students, but flattening them on the floor with a Horizontum! seemed to be the best way to get them apart.

It was the fifth corridor-fight in two days, and while Lupin was for the most part a pacifist, he had finally given up, and when he couldn't put himself between two scrabblers, he'd simply knock them flat, gently, which usually made them stop, if only for a moment.

"Ten points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin -- I don't care who started it!" he said sharply.

Then he grinned, suddenly.

Then the other children around him grinned.

Leeks were sprouting slowly out of the ears of the combatants, no doubt from a partially-deflected hex gone wrong.

"Right. You two had better...Percy?" he called, as a crowd of Gryffindors approached -- Harry's honour guard, he thought wryly. They went everywhere with the boy, ostensibly protecting him from Slytherin treachery.

"Yes, Professor?" Percy asked, detaching himself from the crowd.

"Take these two up to the hospital wing, would you?"

"Of course, sir," Percy said proudly. Remus fought the urge to smile at the slightly pompous young man.

"Run on, you two. You're lucky I'm not giving you detention for a month as well," he called, as they followed Percy, the leeks already reaching their shoulders. The rest of the hallway was slowly dispersing, and he joined the general flow of students towards the Great Hall for dinner.

"Fight number five," he murmured to McGonagall, as he passed. "Leeks in their ears."

She choked on the water in the goblet she was drinking, but didn't say anything in reply.

***

The house rivalries had always been vicious, he recalled; Gryffindors hated Slytherin, Slytherin hated Gryffindors, Ravenclaw thought them both almighty fools, and Hufflepuffs just tried to stay out of the way.

He was a teacher and should be well out of the whole mess by now; he wasn't even a House Head, and only a few of the students knew he'd been a Gryffindor. Still, the excitement on the night before the match was almost tangible, and it made for restless sleep.

It made for no sleep at all, in fact.

Which was why he was awake at an ungodly hour, wandering down the hall, half-hopeful that he'd see a light on under Minerva's door as well. The nights were beginning to warm, now that it was April, but the stones were still cold under his bare feet, and they helped to clear his head.

His way took him past the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, and the Pink Lady, dozing in her frame. There was a scrabbling from within, and then the portrait swung open and a thin body shot out --

"Harry!" he cried, catching him by the arm. Harry started back and nearly screamed, but Remus raised his lit wand to his face. "It's okay, it's me -- Merlin, what's happened?"

Harry stared at him, wide eyed for a moment, until recognition dawned.

"A Grim," he said. "I saw a Grim."

Remus pulled him against the wall opposite the Pink Lady, and with a gesture lit the torch above their heads. "What?"

"I saw a Grim and Crookshanks and then they disappeared and Ron was asleep -- "

"Harry, calm down. No, listen to me, calm down. Tell me what happened."

"I told you, I -- "

"Harry, you are not five," Remus said sharply, and it seemed to work. "Start with why you're awake at this hour."

Harry took a deep breath. "I had a nightmare," he said. "About the game. I got up to get a drink of water. From the pitcher near the window."

He nodded, and Harry took a gulping breath before continuing.

"And then I looked out through the window and there was something on the lawn, but I thought it was just Crookshanks..."

"Hermione's cat?"

Harry nodded. "And, and it WAS Crookshanks, but then..." he gulped again, and Remus put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "There was this thing coming out of the shadows of the castle -- this giant black shaggy dog..."

Remus felt his pulse freeze in his veins.

"And they walked across the lawn towards the forest and I tried to wake Ron up and when I turned back they were gone -- "

"It's okay, Harry," he said, hearing himself as if from very far away. "It's probably just a stray."

"But -- "

"Harry, trust me. With the amount of people looking out for you," continued the voice that wasn't quite his, "Your seeing Grims is probably a sign the world is coming to an end. No, listen," he said, when Harry opened his mouth. "Harry, it was just a stray. You'll be fine tomorrow."

Harry looked up at him.

"You'll be all right," he repeated. "I promise."

Harry drew a deep breath. "I should...I should go back to bed," he said. "Got the game and all."

He nodded and released his shoulder, gently. "Go on then. Sleep well."

He watched as Harry ducked back through the portrait-hole, and after a moment, doused the torch he'd lit.

He wanted nothing more than to run down the corridor and bang on Minerva's door until she let him in. He could lose himself in her; he often had, even just kissing her, forgetting the world and everything but her, her, her...

He covered his mouth to stop the ragged breaths he was drawing.

He had responsibilities. He was a teacher. He was paid to guide these children and keep them safe. How could he go to her knowing that Sirius was wandering onto the grounds at night, how could he touch her when he hadn't told her what Sirius was, how could he hold her when his own cowardice might mean --

He pressed his back against the wall, thinking fast. He would not make trouble, not now, not so close to the game, the catharsis that these children desperately needed.

Sirius hadn't...hadn't done anything to Harry. He'd just...crossed the grounds. Heading away from the school.

None of what Sirius had done had been obviously aimed at Harry. Perhaps Sirius couldn't bring himself to kill his godson. Perhaps he could be captured.

And a little bit of him wanted Sirius free, because he had seen what Dementors did to a person and nobody, not even Sirius, deserved that. Sirius might have betrayed him, and James and Lily, but for the ten years they'd known each other, Sirius had been one of his best, his only friends.

When the year was over, he would...he'd leave, for a week or two, and track Sirius down. Sirius would follow Harry, probably, and it was much harder for a giant black dog to hide, in suburban England.

In the meantime, he would make sure Harry never went anywhere alone.

***

The day of the match dawned bright and crisp, and it was a damn good game; watching Lee Jordan commentate was half the fun, and watching Minerva try to wrestle the microphone away from him, twice, before giving up because Slytherin were such obvious cheats, well, that was amusing too. Remus wished he'd brought a camera, but he could see little Colin Creevy snapping away, down below his high back-row perch, and made a mental note to buy some prints off the boy, later.

Harry won, of course.

By god, he looked like James.

Remus stood in the back of the stands, watching, eyes sweeping both the Pitch and the grassy spread beyond; if Sirius was going to try and kill the boy, now -- when Harry was being lifted to the shoulders of his teammates and paraded towards the school -- now would be the time. When the professors were as lost in the moment as the students...he could see Minerva crying, wiping tears away with the edge of a Gryffindor flag, and made a second mental note, to tease her about it later.

He had a crystal clear moment where he saw his own detachment -- saw himself as a lone figure up in the stands, watching what was going on below like...

Like a ridiculous fool.

He ran to the ladder and nearly slid down it, crossing the field to catch up with the tail end of the mob, trying to push through to where Harry was, to congratulate the boy.

And, in one swift movement, to push past Harry once he'd cried a few words up to him, and grab Minerva McGonagall by the elbow and pull her away from the crowd, behind a corner of the building...

She started in surprise but only for a second, as his hand covered her mouth before she could shriek a hex in protest. "Got you," he whispered, and felt her body relax a little. She turned to look up at him, and he bent to kiss her as she turned, wanting nothing more than the feeling of her mouth on his, her fingers in his hair.

"Remus!" she said, pulling back a little. "Anyone could have seen -- "

"Only if they got past the distracting charms I cast," he answered, into her mouth, not releasing her long enough for her to escape completely.

"A dirty trick -- "

"Very possibly," he agreed, walking her slowly backwards until she was pressed against the stone wall of the castle, until they were standing between two rosebushes, screened from view. "Congratulations, Professor McGonagall, Gryffindor won the cup."

"And I should be -- "

"Here with me, celebrating," he finished, lining kisses down her neck. "Splendid game."

"Yes..." she sighed, fingers curling around the edges of his jacket. "Very well -- mmm, played."

He laughed against her throat. "Indeed. Do you remember that essay I wrote, seventh year?"

"There was one..."

"Got me in heaps of trouble."

"About Quidditch and..."

"...other things," he said, pressing close against her, warm and firm. She laughed, and tapped her fingers against his collarbone, gently pushing him away.

"We have to go," she said. "They'll wonder where we are."

He bent for one last, hungry kiss. "Let them wonder."

"You know you don't mean that," she said, sliding her hands down his chest. "Come, the children are waiting."

"Right," he answered with a sigh, straightening his shirt. "The children. Right."

"However, if you are well-behaved, I may let you walk me to the great hall," she said magnanimously. He wrapped his arm around her waist.

"If you let me cast another distracting charm -- "

She shook her head, and he sighed.

"Fine, fine. The sacrifices I make," he said mournfully.

"And if you behave yourself that long," she added, as he released her and stepped back, brushing a few wisps of hair back neatly, "I may let you walk me to my rooms."

He grinned, and followed her into the castle, pausing only briefly on the steps to look back, as if he expected to see Sirius -- his old Padfoot -- at the forest edge.

If Sirius saw Harry play, he thought, turning to catch up to Minerva, he could never want to harm the boy.