A Werewolf for Christmas

R. J. Lupin

The handle was coming off again.

Remus fidgeted with it, his fingers wiggling the little metal bit back into place on the top of the briefcase, raising his wand, soldering the piece back into place. He tucked his wand back into his tweed jacket and ran his fingers over the briefcase, smoothing  tear in the leather on the corner and staring at the little brass name plate.

Professor R. J. Lupin.

He drew a deep breath, closing his eyes, his knee bobbing as he expelled some of his nervous energy.

The door opened behind him and Albus Dumbledore came into the room. "So sorry to keep you waiting, my boy," Dumbledore said as he crossed the room, settling behind his desk.

"It's quite alright," Remus replied, "I wasn't here long."

Dumbledore arranged his beard and leaned back in his tall-backed chair, looking Remus over with those bright eyes, scrutinizing him for a long moment. "You've lost a deal of weight, Mr. Lupin. Have you been eating properly?"

"As I can," Remus answered. Then, before Dumbledore could say more, he lay the briefcase on the edge of the desk and opened it, his hands shaking, and he removed a sheath of papers, thrusting them into Dumbledore's hands. "I wanted to give you this," he said.

Dumbledore took the papers, reached into a pocket and withdrew his spectacles, shaking them opened and sliding the half moon glasses onto his nose. Remus watched, closing the briefcase and, being careful for the handle, put it on the floor next to his leg. Remus put a hand over his knee, trying to stop it jogging up and down.

"Your curriculum vitae?" Dumbledore mused, his eyes raising up from the parchments.

"Yes," Remus said, and his voice shook very slightly.

"Do you know something I do not?" Dumbledore asked, a slight smile trembling upon his lips. "Are one of my members of staff about to depart from here?"

"You've hired a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher every year since I was here, Dumbledore," Remus said, "And I thought I might beat out the competition for '87's go at it."

Dumbledore smiled and put the CV down on the desk.

Remus's heart sank.

"My boy, we have discussed this many times over the years, as you know..."

"Yes, but, I thought - perhaps - I mean, with the potion, it could be possible..."

Dumbledore sighed and pursed his lips. "You should go back to Fallengunder, my boy."

Remus shook his head,  a lump rising up in his throat. "I've told you. There's too many... ghosts." He paused and stared down at his knees.

"Then home, perhaps."

"I have no home."

"You've two, actually," Dumbledore said gently.

"I'm never going there again," Remus said shortly. "Either one of them. I'd rather sleep on the ground in Knockturn Alley than go to either of those houses."

Dumbledore stroked his beard absently.

Remus looked up, his eyes glistening. "You gave me the chance here once."

"Yes, and I should love to give you another, but Remus, it is very difficult now that you are older and the -- condition -- is more matured. And the reports to the school governors... the procurement of all that Wolfsbane..."

"Professor Slughorn --"

"Is not the sort of person you want knowing about your condition, I assure you," Dumbledore  murmured.