A Reflection of Himself

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Chapter Sixteen

After dinner that evening, Harry's spirits were still flying high, just as he had been on his Firebolt just hours prior during the Quidditch match. Soaring so high, all thoughts of what had happened a few weeks ago were erased from his mind. Not only had Gryffindor won the match, Ginny Weasley had kissed Harry again, but this time the kiss had been deeper, more meaningful, and Harry was beginning to wonder if he was falling in love.

Harry spent the remainder of the evening hanging out in the Gryffindor Common Room with his friends and teammates, celebrating their victory. They played game after game of Exploding Snap and Wizards' Chess and filled themselves with loads of sugar. By the end of the evening, candy wrappers littered the entire area, and empty bottles of butterbeer were sprawled out across the floor, tables, and chairs. The room gradually quieted down as people retired for the night, and before long, Harry was left with only Ron, Hermione, and Ginny surrounding him.

The fire was growing lower and ever dimmer in the grate, meaning that the fullness night was evading the world more and more. Ron yawned and stretched, eyeing the staircase to the dormitories wearily.

"You ready for bed, mate?" he asked Harry.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Harry reluctantly replied. The truth was that he wanted to celebrate through the night and continue to live as if he had not a care in the world, but as the saying goes: "Life is like a party, and parties weren't meant to last."

Hermione then stood up and began walking toward the staircase, saying with evident exhaustion in her voice, "I'm off to bed, then. I'll see you all tomorrow. Good night..."

Ginny remained silent and shifted her gaze from Harry to her brother, trying to give him a clue that she wanted to be alone with Harry. Ron didn't notice at first, but as Ginny fixed him with a long glare, he suddenly realized his folly and stood up and left them to themselves, mumbling an almost incoherent "good night" on the way to his room.

"'Bout time," Ginny remarked impatiently. "You'd swear he'd been dropped on his head too many times as a baby."

"Was he?" Harry asked, amused.

Ginny giggled and shook her head, saying, "No, I don't think so, but anyway, at least we're finally, you know, alone..."

"Yeah, that we are," Harry said dumbly.

"Well?" she implored.

"Well, what?" Harry regarded Ginny with confusion.

"Aren't you supposed to give me a good night kiss, mmm?" she asked in mock sweetness.

Harry blushed a dark crimson. "Er... sure, yeah... I guess so," he replied, feeling embarrassed. How was he supposed to know what was on a girl's mind, after all? Why girls always seemed to merely expect him to understand what it was they were thinking without actually having to say it was still a mystery to Harry.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, closing his eyes as he surrendered himself. Ginny returned the kiss with more vigor, and then Harry played off her kiss, and back and forth they went for some time until they finally broke apart, realizing that they would have to resume their normal breathing patterns again before the night was through.

Harry gazed at Ginny in the very dim light, the soft, deep red from the dying embers reflecting off her fiery hair. Her eyes bore into his own from only a few inches away, and Harry found himself smiling all over again. He wanted to stay like this forever.

Ginny suddenly blinked a couple of times, coming out of her daze, and whispered, "It's really late, Harry. We should probably go to bed before McGonagall or someone finds out."

"Yeah," Harry agreed with an audible sigh, but he didn't want to move.

Ginny reached for his hands and pulled him up from the couch, giggling softly. "C'mon, Sleepyhead. You'll have to still get up in the morning."

"I know, I know..."

Harry allowed Ginny to lead him across the room and to the staircase, where they knew they would have to part. With a couple of quickly uttered "good nights," Harry and Ginny went to their respective dorm rooms and settled into their beds.

* * * * *

In another part of the castle, Remus Lupin had been sound asleep for hours by the time Harry had finally gone to bed. At two in the morning, no one ventured through the halls of Hogwarts, unless they were looking for trouble, but deep within his chambers, Lupin slept, and until now this night, his sleep had been dreamless...

Laughter. Bark-like laughter. He was nearly certain that he heard it. Opening his eyes, Lupin sat up with a start when he realized that he was no longer in the same bed he had fallen asleep in. Instead of his four-poster in the teachers' quarters at Hogwarts, Lupin now found himself sitting in a rickety, old bed in one of the guest rooms of Grimmauld Place. He had stayed in said room from time to time during Harry's fifth year, but why was he here now?

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up, the floorboards creaked as if protesting that they had to support even the meagre weight of Lupin. He yawned and stretched, taking notice that the sun was up. He could smell eggs and bacon cooking in the kitchen, and his stomach growled fiercely, the werewolf inside informing him that he was indeed quite hungry. He reached for his robe and left the room.

When he entered the kitchen, he thought for sure that he eyes were deceiving him. How could this be?

"S-Sirius?" he croaked.

Sirius, who had been working earnestly over the stove, turned around and beamed at his friend.

"Moony!" he exclaimed. "Good morning! How are you this fine day?"

Wondering if he should pinch himself, Lupin took a step closer to Sirius and extended a wary arm to touch him on the shoulder. When his fingers came in contact with a solid form, Lupin nearly lost control. Blinking back tears, his voice shaking, he stuttered, "Can... can this be true?"

"Can what be true?" Sirius inquired, fixing Lupin with a penetrating glare of mock annoyance. "Do sit down, old boy, before you go and hurt yourself. Your last transformation was certainly a rough one, and ever since, you haven't been eating properly. Now, tuck in."

Lupin glanced from Sirius to the plate in front of him and then back again at his friend as Sirius placed some food on Lupin's plate. Sirius took a seat as well and began to eat without another word. Lupin, however, was too shocked to touch his food. Sirius soon enough finished eating and was now regarding Lupin and his plate of food intently.

"You going to eat that?" he asked, eyeing the food.

"Er, no..."

"Fine, fine, won't go wasting good food. Honestly, if Molly found out, Moony, she'd have my head-"

"Sirius-" Lupin suddenly interjected.

"Mmm?" Sirius moaned with a mouthful of egg.

"Don't talk like that... please. It's just... well, quite disconcerting, I must admit, especially considering the fact that you're-"

Lupin couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence. Saying it was make it too real indeed.

"I'm- ?"

Lupin looked at Sirius with extreme sadness in his eyes and tried to keep himself composed and calm as he said what he knew he had to say. "Padfoot, old friend, don't you remember? You- you fell through the veil? You're... gone."

"Don't be silly, Moony," Sirius laughed. "I haven't gone anywhere. I'm right here."

Sirius didn't seem to understand. He had no concept of being dead or gone or whatever it was that he truly happened to him that fateful night in the Department of Mysteries. Lupin's wary gaze stayed fixed on his dear friend as he finished the remainder of the food, and when Sirius had finished, he looked up at Lupin and smiled.

"Oh," he said almost off-handedly. "There's been something I've been meaning to tell you. Let Harry know that just because I can't leave and see him, I'm still looking out for him. Can you tell him that for me, old friend?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Lupin replied earnestly, nodding his affirmation. He wasn't sure if he should bother to ask this next part, but Lupin's heart was dying to know. "But when can we expect your visit?"

Sirius's gaze faltered, and he glowered. Scowling at his surroundings, he muttered, "I'm still a prisoner, Remus. Seems I'll always be, eh? So, see, that's why I'm depending on you, my friend. Can I count on you?"

Still a prisoner. Those words reverberated through Lupin's mind as he jolted awake, now finding himself in his bed at Hogwarts. Thick sweat was covering his brow, and wiping some of it away, his eyes darted frantically across and all about the dark room. There was no one else there. Or was there?

Something about that dream had been both unsettling and settling at the same time. Was Sirius indeed still a prisoner somewhere beyond the clutches of all tangible reality? Lupin didn't want to believe it, but something inside told him that Sirius had been trying to reach him this night with in the depths of his dreams. Was Sirius drifting amidst an ethereal world of dreams now, forever forced to speak through the subconsciousness of others? Lupin knew not the answers to any of these questions, but he did know one thing: Sirius was counting on him now to tell Harry that he was still there for him.

Lupin somehow managed to fall back asleep for the remainder of the night, and when morning dawned, he was up with the sun. He quickly showered and dressed and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. On a Sunday morning, especially at such an early hour, the Great Hall was nearly empty. When he took his seat at the staff table, he noticed that the only other person there was Snape. The Potions Master didn't even acknowledge Lupin's presence, but he simply sat there, idly drinking his tea.

Lupin was a few chairs down from Snape, and he decided to go against his better judgment and wish the bitter man a good morning.

"Indeed," Snape muttered, grimacing as if the flavor of the tea had suddenly gone bad.

Lupin eyed Snape curiously, asking innocently enough, "Is there a special reason for your cheery attitude this morning, Severus, or is this just your usual demeanor?"

"I had no idea you were practicing to be a comedian, Lupin," Snape sneered. "I believe I would rather spend my morning with the cauldrons for company. If you'll excuse me-"

Snape stood up to leave, but Lupin stood up at the same time. "Please, Severus, don't be so quick to leave. I apologize if I've offended you, but could you please spare me a moment of your no doubt valuable time?"

Snape's dark eyes travelled the length of his peer up and down with distrust, but he eventually resumed his seat and muttered, "What is it?"

"It's Harry," Lupin said openly.

"What at him?"

"Well, I must admit that I haven't exactly been keeping as close an eye on the boy as I probably should be, but I was just wondering if you had noticed anything regarding him. I've spoken with him a couple of times since the start of the school year, but he seems like he's not really moving on. I'm concerned."

Lupin wondered if he should dare tell Snape about his dream involving Sirius the previous night and the apparent message it held, but he decided against it. He wasn't even sure why he was discussing Harry with Snape of all people, but Lupin had also noticed some changes in Snape's behavior the past few months, even though the Potions Master would probably deny such a fact at all costs.

Snape sighed and rubbed his temples as though he felt a headache coming on. The topic of Harry Potter never seemed to want to leave him in peace, and as much as he tried to deny Harry, he knew full well that he had no choice but to face the Boy Who Lived.

"Mr. Potter has been... different," he said with a few carefully selected words. "He seems very withdrawn, and a couple of weeks ago, I even found the boy insanely running across the grounds, exclaiming how he was a threat to the whole wizarding world. I firmly told him to return to the castle, but his behavior was unnerving. However, I believe that with the turnout of yesterday's game, Potter will no doubt have his head in the clouds for some time to come. It seems that Quidditch is some kind of cure-all for the boy, but he is foolish if he thinks he can escape from his responsibilities."

Lupin wasn't sure if he wanted to smack Snape for his remarks or actually thank him for telling him more than just "It's none of your bloody business." He did, however, glare at the Head of Slytherin and spat, "Responsibilities? Are you to tell me that you don't think Harry knows damn well that he has more on his shoulders than any boy his age - or anyone any age - should? It may be easy enough for you to sit there and gloat, Snape, thinking yourself superior because you are his professor and exercise some sort of command over him, but have you any inclination just what kind of command Harry's very existence has over all over us?"

Snape felt Lupin's words hit him one by one, each like a wound to the heart that was already bleeding. "You fool!" he barked. "I know all too well what Harry's existence means! Why do you think I've been trying to keep the boy in line all these years?!"

Lupin's mouth hung open. Had Snape just used Harry's first name?

"Severus-" he tried to say.

"Enough!" Snape bellowed.

"No!" Lupin protested. "For once, I'm not going to just sit here and let you walk away."

"Watch me," Snape growled, turning to leave.

"Severus, please... wait," Lupin practically begged. "I said I was sorry. Are you so ashamed that you actually care about Harry that you can't even face me? What threat do I pose?"

Snape stopped, sighed, and dropped into the nearest chair. In a very edgy and tired voice, he replied, "Lupin, I... I cannot allow such foolish things as feelings get in the way. I have a job to do in this whole war, and as such, I need to be able to think clearly. Every mention of Potter has the potential to drive me mad. Until very recently, he has never heeded anything I have told him, and all this while, I have been sacrificing practically everything for a selfish boy who would rather be the Quidditch star like his pompous father, all the while knowing that I, like everyone else, depend on this boy, this boy, for my salvation from the Dark Lord... and for me, my own redemption as well. He foolishly says the Dark Lord's name as if it were nothing, yet he has no idea the fear that very name instills in my heart. You don't know what it's like to..."

To be so ashamed of yourself? Snape thought. He wouldn't dare voice those words, though, for he had a very bad feeling that he had already gone too far.

"Severus," Lupin sighed, sitting down next to him, "I- I had no idea, but Harry is not his father, and you know that. James never had to carry the burden of the fate of the wizarding world upon his shoulders. I, for one, don't think Harry should have to bear that burden alone."

"We all have our own burdens to bear, Lupin," Snape said softly. "Har... Potter's is just much larger than anyone's, and if I could, I would gladly relieve him of it, but he would never believe me if I told him... and I probably will never tell him."

"Why not tell him?"

"It's hardly my place," he muttered. "You're what's left of his father's friends, Lupin. Maybe you ought to play the role of godfather and actually fulfill it... unlike Black."

"That's not fair, and you know it," Lupin said between clenched teeth.

"Our roles never are."

"That's not what I meant. Don't you dare go about insulting Sirius, especially in front of me or Harry. For heaven's sake, Severus, he is gone now. Out of respect for the dead at least, can you finally lay your preconceived notions about him aside after all these long years?"

"I've laid aside far too much already, I'm afraid," Snape remarked in a guarded tone, referring to the fact that he had opened up to Lupin just moments prior. "I think this conversation is over."

Snape stood up from the chair and left Lupin to himself and his thoughts. Now there was Harry to face.