The assistant | Remus Lupin (on pause)

The end...?

The end of the year was approaching. That entire year had sped by me in a flash.

Something different hung in the air. Was it a mixture of sadness or hope?

Valentine's Day wasn't as eventful as one would think. Remus had to deal with his full moon appointment and I had to help some students with their studying for the OWLS.

Remus and I hadn't discussed what we would do during the break. I hope it was something together. To help build our relationship. But when it came to planning ahead. It was like talking to a brick wall.

Our relationship was healthy, it was strong, and it was maturing. We didn't need to kiss each other goodbye or even say goodbye that much to know we still cared about each other. Mature relationships were about growing away from that honeymoon phase.

Although I happened to enjoy goodbye kisses and even a real goodbye.

Rather then a nod at the door before he turned away with excited children.

I sat in the class room. I graded work while Remus took most of the students to the dark forest. There was something he wanted to show them that hadn't interested me.

No student had stayed behind. So I was allowed to hum. Not loudly of course. Just some tune I heard once that I couldn't shake.

The door opened and slammed behind someone. I perked up and watched as Harry ran in.

He slumped by the door and slid down its frame .... crying.

I stood up and watched him.

It was so evident that the boy had so many mental troubles that no one seemed to look at. Maybe it was because I went to America, where the wizards there liked to talk about mental illness, but I could see he needed help.

"Harry?" I asked. He looked up and went to get up, but I motioned my hand for him to stay.

I walked over to his frail frame.

"Did Draco say something?" I asked him and he nodded.

Harry sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He didn't want to look up at my eyes so he instead stared down at his shoes.

"He said my parents deserved to die because I'm their .. their son." A sad tear rolled down his cheek.

"Well I'll talk to Draco—" I began but he interrupted me.

"No you wont. You'll give him a slap on the wrist." Harry gasped quietly and shook his head.

I knelt down to meet his eye-line.

"I'll give him more than that." I whispered, "Harry you have to have faith in the good Slytherins." I reached out to touch his shoulder and for the first time he didn't shy away.

"But how can I trust any of you? When he was a Slytherin?" Harry cried.

He cried like a small helpless child. Since he was one. No one had ever simply looked at how ill he was.

Not physically. Mentally.

"Dra—" I stopped myself, "You mean Voldemort?"

Slytherins image was tainted by that horrid extremist. The same extremist who murdered Harry's parents, then died from the explosion.

Harry hissed and reached up to his forehead. A jagged scar, one that cracked the skin surrounding the wound, began to ... leak.

"Harry you're dripping." I stared at his scar.

He touched the inside of the scar with a scared look in his eye and his head knocked backwards.

His scar was leaking some type of black liquid. It dripped and ran down his face. Harry stared back at me frozen. I couldn't read his expression but there was some battle going on in his brain.