The Stars and Forbidden Cigarettes | Professor Remus Lupin

Doomsday

But Doomsday waits for no one, not even those with far too much to give and no way to give it. And so, the clouds inevitably part, and the sky clears, and, in all its bright, revered glory, the full moon breaks free and shines down. 

—

On the day after the full moon, Reverie and Oliver sit across from each other at breakfast. Oliver is talking about the Irish quidditch team's advancement to quarters in the Quidditch World Cup next month, and Reverie stares at him as he speaks, pensively and slightly out of focus. Oliver slows his speaking before he comes to a full stop.

"Rev, hey, are you okay?" He says, leaning forward, waving a hand in front of her eyes. Reverie blinks and jumps up slightly in her chair. She shakes her head, as if clearing it.

"Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about..." She falters but can't think of a single viable lie. "...cigarettes." She shuts her eyes as the final word leaves her mouth, and she drops her head into her hands and groans.

"Cigarettes?" He repeats, incredulously.

Reverie peeks at Oliver through the cracks between her fingers. "Blasphemous, I know."

"Not blasphemous, just... uncharacteristic," Oliver says, tilting his head as if to ascertain her better.

Reverie removes her hands from her face. She moves to pour a drop of milk into her tea. "What exactly is it about me that says I haven't touched a cigarette?"

"Your voice, for one. And your over cautiousness. And it seems too mundane for you."

Reverie twirls her spoon lazily in her cup, resting her head on one propped-up hand, looking down into the milky water. "Have you ever tried one? A cigarette?" She asks, without looking up.

Oliver's eyebrows furrow together. "No, I haven't." He pauses. "Have you?"

Reverie's hand twirling the spoon slows to a stop, and the spoon clinks lightly against the glass. "A couple of times," she says, quietly, and then looks up to Oliver to see his reaction.

"I'm surprised," he says, confused but with a small grin.

"You forget that my parents were muggles," she says, straightening in her seat.

"I haven't forgotten anything, Rev."

Reverie clears her throat. "Right. Well, listen, I have something to tell you. Don't get mad at me for not having told you before."

The Great Hall is buzzing with enough noise to mask her words to anybody nearby. Oliver sets his cutlery down on his plate.

"Over the holidays, while you were gone, the Ministry sent another one of their responses to my last letter." Oliver nods. He knows about their pre-written, generic responses. Reverie continues. "I opened it and scanned it before burning it nearly immediately, out of anger maybe. But I think it was poisoned, Oliver. That night, I got... sick. And collapsed."

Oliver's eyes widen. "Merlin, Rev, why didn't you tell me?" He says, exasperated.

"I didn't want to worry you on your holiday, and when you got back, I suppose I was... preoccupied with other things." Reverie inwardly winces.

Oliver rubs his hand over his face. "Fine, well, did you tell anyone?"

Reverie tries to speak but her voice comes out weak. She clears her throat. "I told Professor Lupin."

Oliver frowns. "Out of everyone, you told him? Why not McGonagall?"

Reverie's cheeks burn red and she prays Oliver doesn't notice. "It was Christmas Day and the Christmas party was in his office that night. I collapsed outside his door."