By the Numbers

"Arithmancy is one of the oldest forms of analyzing the relationships between all things in the universe, and the most precise." I was addressing my new class of third years for the first time. "It is based on specific calculations, not vague guesswork like most forms of Divination. Does anyone know what the word "Arithmancy" means? Yes, Miss Granger?" The girl looked about to fly out of her seat.

"It's from the Greek arithmo, meaning 'number' and mancy, meaning 'prophecy,' " she quoted directly from the textbook, which she had clearly already read.

"Exactly. Thank you." Hermione beamed, clearly pleased with her correct answer. I had to stifle a smile; I couldn't help but admire her enthusiasm.

"We will be studying these two basic principles: that names reflect upon a person's character and, to some extent, their destiny, and that each number between one and nine has a specific meaning that can help us unlock the clues hidden within any word. We'll concentrate mostly upon proper names this term. Any guesses why?" I tried to ignore Hermione Granger's raised hand to give someone else a chance. There was only one other hand in the air. (Not nearly as high as Hermione's, of course, but it was something.) "Mister Malfoy?"

"Because a name means everything." he had a vaguely familiar smirk that I did not particularly like. "A person's surname can tell you all about their family, if you know what to look for."

"You're partly correct, Draco." I remembered meeting this young man's father once or twice in the apothecary shop. He did not frequent it, preferring Knockturn Alley shops instead of my father's better-regarded establishment. That must have been where I'd seen that superior sneer before. "A person's family name is important, but it is your first name, and the combination of all your names, that can tell us much more about you. Your name is the most personal thing you have. It gives you your most basic identity. Your family name identifies you with a group, but your whole name is your identity. Let's start by writing your first name across the top of your parchment and then turning to page twenty-seven of Numerica and Gramatica."

I turned to the blackboard and wrote my own first name in large letters. "Now, from the chart in your book, please find the corresponding number for each letter of your name, and add them up. If the numbers add up to ten or more, add up the digits until you reach a number between one and nine." I demonstrated with my own name:

A N N A

1+5+5+1=12

1+2=3

"This is will be your character number, which indicates your basic personality. Add up only the vowels in your name to reach your heart number, which will reflect the desires and fears you keep hidden inside. The sum of the consonants in your name will give you your social number, which is the face you show to the outside world. Your assignment for next class is to find your numbers, and, using the number meanings chart in Appendix A of your textbook, write me one scroll of parchment discussing what your first name reveals about you. I am always available if you have any questions." I perched on the top of my desk, ready to help if needed, as the sound of quills scratching on parchment filled the room.

I am a three. According to the numbers, I was generally unfocused and undisciplined. Remus' first name made him a four: practical and organized. My heart number, a two: conflicted and indecisive. Remus was an eight: hardworking and practical. Practical inside and out! That odd thought jolted me out of my reverie. Why on Earth was I balancing Remus Lupin's positive traits against my negatives? I did tend to do people's numbers in my head when I first met them, but I didn't usually compare them to myself. That was something I only did between couples, which we certainly were not. We'd had one pleasant meal, and we did seem to get on quite well, but what was I thinking?

"Professor?"

Time to work on that focus thing I was so bad at. "Yes, Hermione?"

"I have some questions about why the Pythagoreans considered six to be a perfect number. Is it only because it can be divided by both two and three, or because it's the sum..."?

*****

That evening, I was sitting on my favorite squashy sofa in the staff room, staring into the fire without seeing. It had been an eventful afternoon, with Draco Malfoy being attacked by a hippogriff in Hagrid's very first class. Poor Hagrid, to have something so dreadful happen in his very first class. Poppy Pomfrey had told me that Malfoy would be as good as new by morning, but I knew how sensitive Hagrid was. He'd surely be blaming himself. Maybe he should have started with something a little smaller and less dangerous than hippogriffs, but why did it have to be the Malfoy boy who was injured? I just knew his father would raise an enormous fuss.

I felt the sofa shift, as someone sat on the opposite end. It was Remus Lupin, a book tucked under his arm and a cup of hot chocolate in each hand. "You look like you could use one of these," he said, offering one to me.

"Thanks." The book that I had ostensibly been reading slid off my lap as I leaned toward him and took the cup. He deftly caught it before it hit the floor. His reflexes were impressive.

"'Paradox Theory and Equations in Time?' Sounds intriguing," He set the book on the cushion between us. "You weren't reading it, though."

"I was thinking about poor Hagrid's rough first day. How was yours?" I settled back into the cushions, with my hands curled around the warmth of the cup.

"Not bad, all things considered. Those Weasley twins are going to be a handful, I think," he chuckled. "They already tried to pull a prank on me. As if I can't tell an exploding quill from a real one." He looked rather indignant at being considered an easy mark.

"I haven't had the pleasure of teaching them, but one does hear stories." I was grinning myself.

"I'll be sure to keep you posted on future developments." He didn't seem any more interested in the book he had brought than I had been in mine.

"Please do. Percy is a nice boy, but quite possibly the least entertaining Weasley." I took a long drink of my chocolate and read the title of the book he was holding. "'Hairy Snout, Human Heart.' Such a sad story! That book made me cry."

"Me, too," he said very quietly.

I would gladly have thrown myself into the fire at that moment, if it would have taken that look off his face. "I'm sorry, Remus. I never think before I speak. It's a terrible character flaw. I promise to begin working on it immediately." Of course, that book would be very personal to him. I noticed then how battered and well read his copy was.

"Don't you dare," he looked at me intently. "I prefer your brand of unfiltered honesty to the thinly veiled insults I usually get from people who know what I am. Does it not bother you at all?"

"I haven't really thought about it, to be perfectly honest." I considered the question for a moment. "I suppose I don't really know enough about it to answer you. I should probably do some research. I do know that I like you an awful lot so far. I don't know if I can separate the person you seem to be from something that happens to you one night a month. Something you don't even have any control over. Doesn't seem fair to try, really."

I couldn't read his expression. I was starting to think I had offended him, when the corners of his mouth turned up a bit.

"You're very unusual, did you know that?"

"So I've been told. You think that's a good thing?" If so, he would quite possibly be the first.

He just nodded, and gave me a real smile, which I couldn't help but return.

"I love the beginning of term. Nothing to grade yet, and the lesson plans don't need to be changed yet. We need some biscuits to go with this hot chocolate"

*****

At breakfast Thursday morning, I received a package from my father in the morning post. I wondered what he could possibly have sent me. Something nice, perhaps, to apologize for the scene when I left? Or, more likely, something I had forgotten and not yet noticed was missing. I opened the note first:

Oh, for heaven's sake! My father was worse than an old woman, trying to fix me up with the man he wanted for a son-in-law.

"Bad news in the post?" Remus sat down next to me and spread marmalade on a piece of toast.

"Just a note from my father. He thinks Severus Snape and I are a match made in heaven, and is sending me his packages in the hopes of driving us together." He nearly choked.

"You and Snape?!" He managed to wash down the lump of toast he choked on with some orange juice. "Why would anyone even think about pairing up the two of you? I've never known two people more different."

"That's what I keep saying. Dad adores Severus for some reason, and he's decided that I need to be with someone who loves Potions. He thinks it would give me a reason to want to work in the store, or some such insanity." I finished the last of the eggs on my plate. "I have to get to class. See you this evening?"

"Sure. I'll bring biscuits this time. " He was giving me a very strange look as I left the Hall.

*****

That afternoon, I went looking for Severus. Might as well deliver his package and get it over with. I hadn't spoken to him at all since after the Welcoming Feast. I knew he had Thursday afternoons free, and figured I'd try the staff room. I turned the corner just in time to see him closing the staff room door behind him. He didn't look to be in a very good mood, but then, he rarely did.

"Severus, wait!" At the rate he was stalking away, I was going to have to run to catch up to him. I was surprised when he actually stopped to wait for me. "My father sent me a package for you."

"Why didn't he send it to me directly?" He examined the package suspiciously.

"No idea." I felt my face turn red. Damn. I really envy people whose every emotion isn't displayed on their faces for the whole world to see. "Just a mistake, I suppose."

"Indeed," He tore open the end of the package and pulled out the note I should have known was inside. His sneer was almost a smile "Hmm, you should find this amusing." He gave me the parchment.

I just couldn't bring myself to look at it. What had my father said to make Severus look like that? Did I really want to know?

"Was there something else you wanted, or am I just wasting my valuable time standing in the corridor with you?" He was still angry with me for what I had said to him the first night of the term. He was rarely as rude to me as he was to most people. I don't know why it bothered me when he was.

"I don't want anything at all, Severus. I was just delivering your package." I did my best impression of Severus himself and spun on my heel to walk away. Of course, me being me, said heel tangled itself in the hem of my robe and I stumbled into the wall. At least I managed to stay on my feet for once. I didn't dare look at Severus, but headed toward the staff room where I could curl up in some hidden corner and die in peace. I was sure whatever was in the note from my dad to Severus would just be the final nail in my coffin of humiliation.

"I don't recommend the staff room for relaxation this afternoon. Lupin's class is attempting to rid the old wardrobe of its boggart. Between him and Longbottom, I will be surprised if the room is still intact after they are finished." I turned back, fully intending to shoot him a glare in return for his spiteful tone, but it was just as well that he was already walking away. I really can't compete with Severus when it comes to nasty looks.

I paused outside the closed staff room door. Overcome by curiosity, I turned the knob slowly, and pushed the heavy door open just enough to peek inside. I was just in time to see Neville Longbottom grimly facing his boggart. I wasn't surprised that the thing that frightened Neville more than anything else was Severus. I was surprised at his counter charm against it. "Riddikulus!" I almost laughed aloud to see Severus in Neville's grandmother's clothing. I probably wouldn't have been heard over the great shouts of laughter from the students, but I shut the door very quickly. I knew I was soon to be overcome with an uncontrollable fit of giggles. Somehow, I made it all the way to the staircase before I had to sit down.

I was wiping the tears from my eyes, when I noticed the letter from my father to Severus forgotten in my hand. I unfolded it against my better judgment.

Good lord.

The term soon settled into a routine: teaching, grading papers, and planning future classes. Remus and I would work side by side in the staff room more evenings than not. He had lived among Muggles quite a bit, and my mother had been very insistent about making sure I was familiar with the Muggle side of the family. Even though she had died when I was still a child, I had kept in close contact with my Muggle grandparents, spending time with them nearly every holiday. Thus, Remus and I shared many interests which none of the rest of the staff really cared to join us in discussing. He introduced me to the more classical Muggle literature (I came to love Jane Austin, but no matter how much Remus tried to change my mind, I thought Jack London was boring.) I had inherited my mother's taste for sensational mystery novels, which Remus enjoyed once I finally convinced him to read one. (Although it took him days to admit that he had liked it.) We both loved Monty Python, and spent endless hours recollecting the movies and episodes of the television show that we could remember, and laughing. I don't think I had ever laughed as much in my life as I did with him.

I tried to ignore the withering glares I frequently noticed Severus shooting in Remus' direction, but it did bother me. I wanted to chalk it up to prejudice against Remus' lycanthropy, but, while the other members of the staff seemed to treat Remus with varying degrees of tolerance, from Professor Binns's sheer indifference to Filius Flitwick's usual cordiality, only Severus was openly hostile. Of course, he treated nearly everyone with that way, but it seemed to me that he really, truly hated Remus. He wasn't terribly pleased with me, either. I didn't try to go out of my way to avoid him, but I wasn't about to seek him out either. I had no desire to relive our last few conversations. I didn't want to ask Remus, since he didn't even notice Severus' hatred for him. Actually, I knew that wasn't true. He noticed; he just chose to ignore it. The unfailingly courteous manner with which Remus treated him irritated Severus to no end. I was certainly not going to interfere with such a winning strategy.

One evening in late September, I was curled up in the corner of my usual sofa, going over my fourth years' essays on the significance of Arithmancy in current events. I felt the familiar shift of the sofa that usually announced Remus' presence. "I finished Call of the Wild today. I though it was a bit dry."

"I'm sure Lupin had his reasons for recommending it." I looked up, surprised to see Severus. "However, the discussion group will have to wait for another night. Surely you knew that he would be unavailable tonight?"

"Why-? Oh, right. The full moon is tonight. I forgot." I wondered what he wanted.

"Have the two of you not discussed what it means to be involved with a werewolf? I would have thought you more responsible than that."

"Remus and I are not 'involved,' Severus." I was suddenly very tired.

"Really? The two of you seem very...close." He managed to convey an incredible amount of innuendo into that one word.

"He's my friend, Severus. Surely, you've at least read the definition of the word? Not that it's any business of yours, anyway." I gathered up my papers, and stood up. "Goodnight."

"I wonder what Victor thinks of his only daughter spending so much time with a Dark creature?" I stopped in my tracks.

"What do you mean by that, Severus?" I tried to sound cool, but I was a bit thrown. Was he threatening Remus? Or me? He had never been deliberately cruel to me before.

He looked at me with that patented Snape sneer. "I was only wondering if you've shared your new friendship with your father. I'm sure he'd like to get to know someone with whom you're spending so much time."

I leaned close to him, and spoke very softly. I had no interest in creating a scene in the staff room, but this had to stop immediately. "Severus, I'm not entirely sure what you are getting at here, but I am a grown woman. I will spend time with whomever I please. My father, and certainly you, have no say in the matter."

I straightened up and walked away without looking at him again. In the interest of making a dignified exit, I ignored the quill I dropped in the process. I had just broken off the tip, anyway. I didn't see Severus pick it up, and I wouldn't have thought it important if I had.