Temporary

It was calm and cool and dark in the library, now as ever. The library had its own distinct smell, musty like old books but also musty like old magic. Remus Lupin's friends claimed they were allergic to that smell, but he knew better. They just didn't like the library, which suited him fine. He could have his table, the one he sat at so often he had begun to think of it as his own personal property, to himself.

Today, though, he wouldn't. Rounding the corner, he saw someone else sitting in his favorite seat. A thin blond girl, her face hidden behind an enormous spell book.
It was his table, though, and Remus would not be deterred. He sat across from the girl and took out his own book, but the presence of this stranger was distracting. He kept glancing up at the cover of her book, which was all he could see. He heard the rustling of pages, but the giant book of spells never moved.

"You're not really reading that, are you?" he ventured to ask.

The girl lowered the book until Remus could see her face, and he nearly laughed with surprise. It was Narcissa Black, a seventh-year Slytherin that he knew only by reputation and because he had had classes with her. She was smart, but aloof. She kept to herself and her small circle of friends; Remus had never spoken to her before, probably because she didn't deign to speak to half-bloods. As he understood it, she was that sort of pureblood snob. And she was, though he didn't want to admit it, very beautiful.

"Don't tell anyone," she answered, and showed the cover of the book she had hidden behind the larger one. It was a book of French poetry.

"Baudelaire?" Remus read from the cover, wondering why it had to be a secret, and then it hit him. "Muggle literature?"

"Don't tell anyone," Narcissa said again. "I just like to read. And it's not really all that different. From wizarding things, I mean. I get it. It's about sex and death and how easy it is to fall into evil."

"It's very beautiful," Remus offered.

"That too," she said, and smiled shyly.

There was a brief pause, and Remus asked, "Are you reading it in French? I tried once but...well, I didn't understand much of it."

"I'm fluent," she said, not bragging, just stating a fact.

"Right," Remus said, feeling awkward, thinking of Sirius' scornful mocking of the Black family motto: Toujours Pur.

"I'm Narcissa," Narcissa said.

"Right, I know. Uh. Remus."

"Oh, of course," she said, sounding embarrassed. "Remus Lupin. We've had class together. Sirius' friend."

"Yes, that's me."

Narcissa smiled. "You're the one who always knows all the answers to everything."

"Well, sort of. In class, I guess. Not in life."

Her smile grew wider. "That's what I meant."

"Can you really not tell anyone that you've read Baudelaire?" Remus asked before he could stop himself, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"They'd just say, there's plenty of good wizarding poetry to read, why bother with that stuff. But I think it's better. I don't mind keeping it a secret, though. My fiancé says that after we're married he'll fill a whole library with muggle books for me to read, any book I could possibly want, as long as I don't tell anyone about it."

Remus thought for a second that he had heard wrong. Fiancé? She was seventeen years old. Then he remembered again that this was the etiquette of purebloods, who, despite living in the same castle and attending the same classes, lived in a world entirely apart from that of Remus and his friends. She didn't seem nearly as snobby as he'd always heard, though. She was talking to him, and she thought that muggle literature was better than that of wizards. It seemed to him an awful shame, though, to have a library full of books but no one to share them with or talk to about them.

"Is it worth it, though, to keep it a secret?"

Narcissa smiled again. She had a very pretty smile. "Well, it's not exactly a secret anymore. Maybe you could recommend me some books."

-

Returning to the Gryffindor common room, Remus prepared to bring up what he knew would be a touchy subject. "Did you know that your cousin is engaged?"

Sirius looked up from the piece of parchment he was doodling on to give Remus his sharpest glare. "What cousin? I have no cousin."

Remus had expected this. "Come on," he said. "You know who I mean. Narcissa. She's in our year. She exists, you can't deny that."

Sirius scoffed. "I hadn't noticed."

"Yeah, well, that's only because you're not allowed to," Peter added, in his usual misguided attempt to be helpful. "You're related. The rest of us have noticed, trust me." Sirius looked for support to James, who immediately sat up straight and scanned the room for Lily Evans.

Remus kept looking at Sirius, who pretended not to realize that his friend was still waiting for an answer. They sat in forced silence, the noise of the common room continuing around them, until finally, Sirius gave in. "Yeah, all right? She's supposed to marry Lucius Malfoy. It's been agreed upon for years. Practically since she started at Hogwarts and the jerk noticed a pretty little girl roaming the halls. It's disgusting, really. She's five years younger than he is."

"But she's dated tons of other guys," Peter pointed out. James, who had suddenly become very interested in the book he was reading, elbowed Peter without looking up.

"Yeah, well, she's allowed that much," Sirius continued. "She can date all the guys she wants at Hogwarts, while Malfoy's off fucking all the muggle girls in London. Next year, she finishes school, he comes back to the wizarding world for good, they get married and hole themselves up in Malfoy Manor to count their fucking galleons and have hundreds of little blond pureblood brats and be of no use to society."

And read muggle literature, thought Remus.

James, always more perceptive than he let on, looked curiously at Remus. "What do you care if she's engaged?"

"Oh, I don't," Remus answered. And though there was no one who could read him better than James Potter and Sirius Black, he could still be a convincing liar when he wanted to.

-

For the next few weeks, Remus sacrificed his favorite library chair for the chance to talk to Narcissa Black. She seemed to spend all of her time there, though he'd never seen her in the library before. He told himself that he didn't dare hope she was there for him, but he hoped it anyway. They talked about books, mostly. She was very well read, and Remus could never think of anything else to talk about besides James and Sirius' latest prank. He judged it wiser not to bring up the disowned cousin, until the day he found Narcissa in the library not reading, but crying.

He sat down next to her. "What--what happened?"

Narcissa sniffed several times, then finally spoke. "It's my stupid sister. She married that mudblood. Now I can't see her anymore. Ever."

Remus vaguely remembered Andromeda Black, who had finished school a few years previously. She had had a serious boyfriend, a muggleborn. Remus couldn't remember the boy's name.

"How could she be so stupid? She knew it was only temporary. It was supposed to be," she wiped at her tears, "temporary."

"Maybe she fell in love," Remus said, realizing an instant too late that it was the wrong thing to say.

"It doesn't matter. It's not supposed to matter. There are some things you just can't do. And now she isn't welcome anymore. Stupid. Stupid."

Remus wasn't sure what to say. "Sirius does alright," he offered.

Amazingly, it seemed to help. "That's true," Narcissa agreed. "He does."

"She'll be fine," he continued, emboldened by his small success. "And you could still see her, if you really wanted to."

She gave him a small, sad smile and shook her head. "I can't. There are rules."

"Right," Remus said, remembering that other world his pureblooded classmates inhabited. "And your sister broke them."

Narcissa didn't say anything more. Before he could decide not to, Remus put his arm around her, and she leaned into him, crying silently into his sweater.

-

After that day, they had somehow grown closer. The conversation had opened some sort of door, one that had previously closed off any more personal conversation. They talked not just about books, but about their lives, about their friends and Hogwarts, spoke not just in the library but in the halls and on the grounds. Narcissa began sitting next to Remus in class. And one day, on a walk to the Great Lake, she slipped her hand into his.

It was almost too strange for him to think about, but Remus had a sort of girlfriend. A girlfriend who was engaged to another man. It was so strange that he decided not to think about it at all. He simply enjoyed his time with her. He enjoyed the more physical benefits of having a girlfriend, but almost more than that he enjoyed her company, talking to her and listening to her and hearing her laugh. Learning what she thought about, and how she thought about it.

In a way, it was an extension of Remus' love of knowledge, of his simple hunger to learn. He was learning because she was a girl, of course, and Remus had never really been close to a girl before, but also because she was pureblooded. Not in the way that Sirius or James was--he knew plenty of people of full wizarding stock--but in that she believed in it, believed in all the stories and the boasts and the lies of the old pureblooded families. He saw the letters and the gifts she received daily from Lucius Malfoy; he remembered the way she had shuddered almost involuntarily at the thought of a muggleborn Minister of Magic, the time he'd realized she was browsing an old astronomy book not to pass an exam but to find suitable names for her children in the Black family tradition. She was a smart and capable girl, but she was content to live the life her family told her she was supposed to.

And, strangely, it didn't bother him.

The difference between Narcissa Black and someone like her fiancé Lucius Malfoy was that she didn't feel a duty to force her beliefs upon the rest of the world. While Malfoy was like a religious fanatic, determined to convert everyone he could and kill the rest, Narcissa was simply a believer, faithful and devoted on a personal level. She believed in her heart that she was superior to muggleborn wizards, but she didn't care whether anyone else knew. She was content to let them go about their own business if they let her do the same, and she was capable of appreciating things, like literature, that came from outside the world she knew.

She never said any of this, of course. He had tried to ask her about it once, the same day he had caught her tracing constellations with her fingers, murmuring the names of stars and galaxies under her breath. Why, he'd tried to say, I just don't understand why, only of course it had come out all wrong. She'd gotten offended and defensive and Remus could see why, but he couldn't explain that he wasn't trying to attack the way she was going to live her life, he just wished he could understand why it was what she wanted. If he had only listened a little longer, he might have figured it out sooner. It was evident in the way she talked about Hogwarts, about her childhood and about her family.

Listening to the stories Sirius told, Remus had always had a hard time understanding how purebloods like weren't all like him, dying to break away from the cold and oppressing world they had grown up in. But listening to Narcissa, he figured it out. There was more to it than rules and Dark magic. There was tradition--the same sort of tradition that ruled over their lives at Hogwarts, the same sort of tradition they all loved so much here at school--and heritage and, though it was different from the sort Remus knew with his own family, love.

-

Remus worried about what Sirius would say when he found out. His friends, and Sirius especially, were constantly bothering him about getting a girlfriend, or more often, about getting as many girlfriends as he could have at once. They teased him about his reluctance to kiss girls at the parties they, along with the rest of Gryffindor tower, were constantly hosting. He had learned to take it all in stride, of course; learned there was no way to tell Sirius Black that he just wasn't all that interested in sex in the way a teenaged boy should be interested in sex. There was no way to explain to Hogwarts' most notorious playboy that one of his best friends was, at heart, a hopeless romantic.

And now, there was no way to tell him that the girl he had chosen to romance was Sirius' estranged cousin. But as it turned out, Remus didn't have to find a way to break the news. His best friend literally stumbled upon the truth one day, finding Remus and Narcissa kissing by the window in a deserted hallway.

His noise of surprise pulled them apart. Remus blushed and racked his mind for something to say to his clearly awestruck friend, but Narcissa got there first.
"Hello, Sirius."

Sirius seemed to realize his mouth was hanging open, and quickly tried to regain composure. "Narcissa."

Narcissa blinked innocently. "Did you need something?"

"Er. Well. Not. Not really. Not from either of you. Well then. See you later, Moony," he called back, already making his way down the hall.

Remus blushed deeper, and Narcissa laughed. "That's something I miss about Sirius," she said, giggling. "How funny it is when he's at a loss for words."

"It doesn't happen very often," Remus confessed.

"That just makes it even funnier," Narcissa countered, and, still giggling, kissed him again.

Remus was worried, though. Sirius had been too shocked to really react, but Remus was sure his friend wouldn't take the news of this relationship well. He expected an explosion the second he entered Gryffindor tower, but Sirius had run right to James, who had managed to calm his best friend down. Sirius wasn't going to throw a tantrum. He did, however, have a warning for Remus. "I grew up with those girls," he began, "and Narcissa is not like Andromeda. This is a fling, and she's going to marry Malfoy, so you better not fall for her. You better not."

-

Remus knew that Sirius was right. The relationship had very clear boundaries, and as close as they were, neither Remus nor Narcissa ever forgot that she was engaged. They never went together to Hogsmeade, because Lucius Malfoy was always there, waiting for her with a bouquet of red roses. It was clear he knew about Narcissa's affair, too. On one Hogsmeade visit, he nearly tripped Remus with his cane as the Marauders walked past.

Sirius seethed with anger. "The fucking ass. I'll break his stupid fucking aristocratic nose."

"No, Sirius, no, you won't," James said warningly. "Not Malfoy. Just wait. When we get back to school you can take it out on Snape."

"Did you not see that, James? And," he added, turning to Remus, "your girlfriend just stands there and watches it happen. She's going to marry that man."

Remus didn't have anything to say. "I know."

It wasn't that he wanted her to marry him instead of Malfoy--he couldn't imagine being married, having children; those adult things seemed so far away. It wasn't that he wanted to convince her that she was wrong; he didn't expect her to do what Sirius did, what Andromeda did, and even if he had expected it, he knew that he couldn't force disownment upon anyone. He knew that this was a relationship that would end with their departure from Hogwarts; they'd been clear on that from the start. He simply didn't understand. He had learned the logic of her love for the world she knew, could comprehend and accept it, even if he disagreed, but this was something else entirely. She didn't want to marry Malfoy just because she was supposed to. She really, truly wanted to be Mrs. Lucius Malfoy. And Remus knew this, but couldn't understand. He had no idea what she saw in the man. It worried him.

And so he worried, as he worried about everything, but as he worried especially about that One Big Thing, the Thing that would ruin him and any relationship he ever hoped to have, the Thing that could ruin him, could and did once a month.

Narcissa believed in the things she'd been taught, and if she was more open-minded than the stereotypical old-stock pureblood, it was only because she was smarter than that. Remus knew, though, that she would choose what she believed in over anything she felt for him. That was why she would soon be planning her wedding and that was why it was more essential than ever that he keep his secret a secret. Being a half-blood was one thing, but being half a human was quite another.

-

"Black!" One night, as Narcissa stepped into the Slytherin common room, having just spent the evening with Remus, she heard someone call her name. She turned to see a familiar greasy-haired figure seeming to glide towards her.

"What is it, Snape," she said curtly. Just because Severus Snape was in her year and in her house did not mean she had to like him. She found him uncouth, unpleasant, and just a bit disgusting.

"Just wanted to ask," began the boy, speaking, as always, much more slowly than he had to, "if you knew what you've been spending your time with."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Narcissa answered flatly, trying to end the conversation as soon as possible.

"Your boyfriend, I mean," Snape said. "If you can call him that."

"What do you want, Snape?"

"I'd pay attention," he continued. "When Lupin misses class, I'd look at the night sky."

Narcissa had no idea what he was talking about, and she gave him her very best blank, annoyed stare.

"You'll see what I mean." Snape clearly couldn't take a hint. "You'll see what I mean and you'll be disgusted. I'm only warning you so you'll realize what a horrible mistake you're making."

Narcissa's patience was gone. "Either spit it out, or shut the fuck up," she snapped. Snape took a step back in surprise. He'd never heard her curse before, and even more alarmingly, he saw in her in that moment a striking resemblance to her cousin Sirius.
He steeled himself to try one more time. "Just remember that I warned you."

-

The moon hung in the lightening sky, just beginning to wane. Remus struggled downstairs and into the Great Hall for breakfast, pale and bruised yet again. The thought of eating made him feel sick, but he gratefully accepted the steaming mug of tea that James, who was sitting alone, waiting for him, offered. Neither of them said anything.

Remus felt heavy and exhausted, but it had been a comparatively easy night. Then again, anything would seem better than the previous month's transformation, when he had nearly killed Severus Snape. James had saved him then and James was here again now, up early when the Great Hall was near-deserted and Sirius and Peter were still in bed after all four of them had been up all night at the Shrieking Shack.

"You look okay," James observed. "Feeling alright?"

Remus nodded, though in truth it pained him to move at all. "Better."

James smiled wearily. "Good."

Remus sipped his tea and watched the sky turn from lavender to blue. Other students began to file in sleepily for their own breakfasts before class. He saw Narcissa enter with two other Slytherin girls and smiled at her, but when he met her eyes, he went cold. She was giving him a strange look, confused and alarmed and scared and angry all at once.

There was no other explanation: she knew. "Shit," he said violently. "Shit, shit, bloody fucking hell."

Now it was James' turn to look alarmed. "What? What is it?"

All Remus could say was, "She knows." If he hadn't been so achy and exhausted, he would have hit the table, knocked over his tea, done something sudden and destructive, anything. "Fuck."

"How do you know?" James asked, but one look over his shoulder at the Slytherin table gave him any explanation he needed. Narcissa was still looking at Remus like she was trying to piece together some upsetting puzzle. James reached out to put his hand on his friend's shoulder and tried to comfort him. "Remus, I'm sure--"

"Yeah," Remus cut him off. "So am I."

-

After breakfast, Remus rushed to leave the Great Hall as fast as he could, though his aching joints and muscles and bones meant that that wasn't very fast. Going up a staircase, he heard footsteps behind him and prayed that they belonged to just someone else who had also finished eating. Anyone else.

"Remus," Narcissa called from behind him, dashing any hope of his prayer being answered. "Remus, stop."

He obeyed, resting a hand on the stone banister, but didn't turn around. He could hear her running up to where he stood, then saw her appear at his shoulder. She was out of breath from the climb. "Remus, how could you?"

It would be best not to answer any questions, he decided. "How could I what?"

"How could you not tell me?" Narcissa's voice rose in pitch and nearly shook with anger.

"Not tell you wh--"

"Don't be an idiot," she cut though his bid for time. She stepped in front of him, so he was forced not only to face her but to look up at her as she stood on a higher stair. "How dare you keep a secret like this from me. I thought--I thought you were smarter than that. I know you are. Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

Remus looked at his shoes, trying to decide what to say. He could only come up with the truth. "I didn't want this to happen."

That threw her off. "What?"

"If you knew, you'd--you'd do this. I'm sorry. I understand. I won't--won't bother you anymore. I'm too dangerous. Right."

He tried to step around her, get away, be anywhere but there, but she stopped him. "You don't--bother me. I don't want you to stop anything. Remus," she suddenly seemed to be pleading, "why didn't you just tell me?"

Remus held back a bitter laugh. "How do you 'just tell' someone? You don't 'just tell' anyone, especially not the girl you--" He stopped, realizing what she had said. "You're not scared?"

"Of course not," Narcissa said forcefully, "I know you and you're still you. I'm just...how could you keep it a secret? You look like death. Awful. It's like this every month, and I worry every month, and I had to piece it together like--like this." She paused, trying to decide what to say next. Before she had a chance to speak again, though, Remus, still shaky on his feet after the transformation, collapsed against the side of the staircase. Narcissa knelt next to him, trying to see if he had hurt himself any further.

"I'm okay," he said, sounding not at all okay. "Stronger than I look, even now. Which isn't saying much, but, it's all a part of. You know. What it is. What I am." He stopped to look at Narcissa, who was just inches away, looking straight at him with such genuine concern that he was shocked into remembering what she had been saying before he fell. "You really--you really don't mind?"

She reached out and pulled him into a hug, gripping him so tightly that he wasn't sure he would have been able to pull away even had he had his full strength. "No. Just, be careful."

-

Back in her room, Narcissa sat on her neatly made bed, a Defense Against the Dark Arts book on her lap. It was the one she had used in her third year, when the class had covered Dark creatures. She stared at the page, not needing to read it anymore, as in the past week she'd read it enough times to know it by heart.

A werewolf. Human, but not entirely. Human, but a slave to the phases of the moon. She couldn't begin to imagine what it must be like, to watch the waxing moon with dread, knowing that once it was full, she would forget everything she loved and turn wild, turn savage.

She shut the book, the thought still tumbling through her mind. It was the forgetting that bothered her, not the pain or the physical change or the simple fact of the wolf inside the man. It was the fact that the werewolf didn't know himself, didn't know that he could be anyone, could be a sweet and wonderful boy who wanted nothing more than to lock himself in a library and read forever. The wolf and the boy were not the same and Narcissa knew it. The wolf contained none of the memories or the intelligence or the life.

She tried to imagine forgetting her life that way. It wasn't even forgetting, really--to forget is to lose a memory, but this was something different, the complete and total absence of a past. She thought of the things she loved, things she could never bear to lose, even for a single night once a month, even for a single night in her whole entire life. Her mother and father, distant at times but full of love for their children. Her sisters--even if she had lost Andromeda, never to be spoken to again, she could remember her childhood, remember how things used to be. The halls of the manor where she had grown up, dark and polished and full of tradition and family. Hogwarts castle, the Great Hall and the Slytherin common room and everywhere she had spent days and nights for the past seven years. Her friends. A young man, a certain arrogant and dashing one with an elegant way with words, an erratic cruel streak, and more money and intelligence than he knew what to do with.

And another. The sweet and wonderful boy who wanted nothing more than to lock himself in a library and read forever.

-

Before long, it was the night before everyone went home to begin their summers; the night before the seventh-years went home to begin the rest of their lives. While the Gryffindor common room hosted a wild party for members of all houses, Remus and Narcissa sat outside in the cool summer night air. It was their last night together, and knowledge of that was heavy in the air between them.

They had been talking for hours, and finally lapsed into a comfortable silence. Remus stared at the moon, which was a thin slice in the sky. Narcissa saw what he was looking at. "You'll be fine," she said reassuringly.

Remus looked at the ground. "I hope so." The silence returned. Minutes passed. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. "You know, you don't have to--"

"Even if I didn't have to," Narcissa answered, "I want to."

"You love him, don't you?" Remus asked, already knowing the answer.

Narcissa took a deep breath. "Yes." Another breath. "But not only him."

"I understand."

The next morning, they didn't have a chance to speak in the rush to board the Hogwarts Express. The last glimpse Remus had of Narcissa Black was of her levitating her trunk onto the train. He knew she didn't regret her choice, didn't regret anything. And at that moment, he knew that he didn't, either.

--

Many years and two wars later, Malfoy Manor felt like it was full of ghosts. Even the three living wizards who inhabited the mansion seemed too silent to be living and almost transparent. Maybe it was because they felt they shouldn't have been alive; maybe it was because every room, ever corner, held fresh memories of the manor's recent occupation. The family had begun dining in the grand dining hall again, clinging to habit and good breeding despite the fact that this was the last place the Dark Lord had held court. They never spoke as they sat at the table and ate. Even before, dinner conversation had been frowned upon as impolite, and Draco had never had anything to say to his parents anyway. Now, the silence seemed even more suffocating.

One day, Lucius surprised his wife and son by breaking this silence. "None of us will leave the Manor until after the trial is over." His voice was less imperious and commanding than it had once been, but it was clear that this order could not be contradicted. Draco stared at his plate, not daring to meet either of his parents' eyes for fear of communicating what had been left unsaid: if we still have the freedom to leave after the trial is over.

Narcissa seemed frozen, sitting straight as ever in her chair and staring straight ahead. "I will be going to Remus Lupin's funeral," she said, her voice flat and even, as if stating some obvious truth.

Draco looked up, shocked. His father didn't look at all surprised, and his mother's expression hadn't changed at all. He wondered wildly if he had only imagined that she had spoken. But then his father inclined his head and said, "Of course."

Draco had always known that there was so much between his parents that he could never hope to know or understand. They lived under the same roof and took their meals together, but in some ways it was as though they inhabited different worlds. He had always assumed that he would understand it when he grew older; but now that he was eighteen, the perfect image of his father, and had survived a war, he realized that there were simply some truths that belonged to Lucius and Narcissa alone.

-

The four teenagers sat in a pew, silently, touching but not touching. Harry's head was in his hands, Ginny's hand resting lightly on his shoulder as she stared straight ahead. Hermione was fiddling incessantly with the ends of her robe sleeves, leaning into Ron, whose arm was around her waist. They had been to so many funerals over the past weeks that they felt empty and numb, but somehow each new ceremony was still more painful than the last.

Hermione felt Ron stiffen. "What's she doing here," he hissed, not really asking a question. "How dare she."

The others looked to the back of the room, where Narcissa Malfoy had just slipped in through the door. She was solemn and dignified as she had once been, but she looked just as exhausted and hollowed out as she had the last time any of them had seen her, at Hogwarts. She sat in the last row of pews, unnoticed by any of the other mourners. If she felt uneasy in the presence of those who had so recently fought against her, she didn't show it.

"Look," whispered Ginny. Andromeda Tonks, her grandson in her arms, had noticed her sister. She showed no trace of surprise, only nodding a greeting, giving Narcissa an almost-smile that was full of understanding and not-quite-forgiveness.

Narcissa returned the almost-smile, then looked down into her lap so her sister wouldn't see her tears.