The Stars and Forbidden Cigarettes | Professor Remus Lupin

New Year's Eve

"I meant to give you this on Christmas, that night, but I never got the chance." His voice is rugged and low, and she wants him to never stop speaking.

She looks down between them to see The Count of Monte Cristo, and she remembers that night, in detention in his classroom, when he'd been reading The Count of Monte Cristo, and realizes it's the same, red, leather-bound copy.

"It's your copy," she whispers, as she traces the gold lettering with her finger.

"You told me once you hadn't read it. It's long and difficult, but it's rewarding." Her fingers brush against his as he lets go of it in her hand.

"'A fascinating medium in which time loses its meaning'," she says as she looks up at him, smiling, her eyes glinting in the hallway's candlelight, and Lupin tucks his hands into his pockets, his shoulders slightly rising.

"Is that really what I'd said?" He asks, and Reverie grins.

"I'm afraid so," she responds, and when Lupin shuts his eyes in embarrassment and smiles, she throws her head back and laughs. He swears his chest warms, and he wishes she'd smile at him for the rest of his life, if only to never feel it go cold again.

Reverie looks back down at the book with her smile slightly fading, the leather under her fingers, the same cover and pages he touched and held and read. "I didn't think to get you anything," she whispers.

"I wouldn't have accepted anything if you did," he responds, and he walks a few steps away from her before he turns around. He smiles the slightest of smiles. "To McGonagall's then?"

Reverie looks up at him, and she's buried her pain deep, but her eyes shine in the dimness, and she walks up beside him. Neither speak, and she's acutely aware of his proximity as he walks half a step behind her, their footsteps echo off the stone walls together, and the tension is thick. Lupin can feel his cigarette box in his pocket.

As they approach the Transfiguration classroom door, their hands brush against each other at their sides. Lupin hears how her breath slightly hitches, and all the blood rushes from his head, and his eyes flit to her. They slow to a stop just outside the classroom doors, and he feels the heat emanating from her body. Neither dares to move from the precipice.

She feels his eyes on the side of her face, and she wishes he'd take her hand in his, she wishes she could feel his calloused fingers against her own skin, but they just stand outside of the room holding what seems to be the rest of the castle, the rest of the world, and Reverie wonders what would happen if they turned around, if they went anywhere but here, if he took her back to the Shrieking Shack and she let him do whatever he wanted. They don't move to the door.

She turns slowly to him to meet his eyes, waiting to see what he'll do, and he swears that his voice of reason is long gone, these past few days and the way she looks at him now made sure of that, but in that moment, the doors open, they are met with the sight of tens of people dancing and McGonagall smiling at them from the doorway, and Lupin and Reverie quickly step away from each other.

"Come in, come in, you two! The party is in here, you know!" McGonagall exclaims, and Reverie has never been so thankful for the disoriented effect of alcohol as she is now.

Reverie doesn't look back to Lupin, but just as she is about to move forward, she feels his hand at the small of her back, his fingertips lightly brushing against her bare skin, guiding her through the doors. To anyone else, it seems little more than an innocent and polite act, a signal for her to go ahead, but the way his fingertips send flames dancing across her body and settle in her core and the way he wants to drag his hand against her soft skin and along every inch is anything but innocent.