✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Genevieve fidgeted in her seat as the stern professor flicked through a book regarding all of Gryffindor's students. It was silent in McGonagall's office, so silent that her small intakes of breathe seemed deafening. Eventually McGonagall found the student labelled 'GENEVIEVE MARY LEWIS' in capitals. She scanned over the document once, narrowed her eyes at the large number of detentions and then looked up at the girl.
"So," McGonagall started, peering over her glasses, "any ideas what you may want to do in the near future?"
"Ventriloquism," Genevieve answered immediately. McGonagall pursed her lips disappointedly and folded her hands in front of her. "I'm getting the feeling you don't support this idea."
Careers meetings had been taking place alphabetically all day. Remus was waiting right outside the office for his turn, being only one after her because of their last names. Some people were prepared for them, some people weren't, and some people had ran out of their head of houses's office in tears. Genevieve wasn't prepared in the slightest, and judging by McGonagall's face it was evident.
"I hope you're not going to be immature this whole meeting," the professor lectured. "You won't be here in a year, Lewis. You'll be out in the real world, doing real world things."
Genevieve groaned and slouched in her seat. "Don't remind me, Minnie," she said. "It's all too scary to think about. I might pass out."
"That's what these meetings are for — to make it less scary. Stop that slouching it's bad for your back. Maybe if you approached these sessions with more maturity you would benefit from them."
Genevieve held McGonagall's watchful glare for a second, acting like a child (which she was) who had just been scolded. Begrudgingly, she sat up straighter and tucked her shirt into her skirt without being asked to.
McGonagall's lips tugged upwards a little. "Much better," she said, then glanced back at Genevieve's file. "Last time we had a careers meeting, you were interested about becoming a Healer. Are you still?"
Genevieve nodded.
"Good. Being a Healer would suit you. You're very comforting and eager to help people. It would also teach you a lot of valuable life lessons, such as patience and dedication, two things you tend to lack in."
"I can be dedicated," the girl argued.
"The amount of missing homework on here says otherwise," said McGonagall, glancing at her file. "You're only dedicated to things you enjoy, such as Quidditch, which is why it's essential we find a job you enjoy."
Genevieve nodded along.
"Now, to become a Healer you need to have excellent academic credentials. You need either an Outstanding or an Exceeds Expectations in Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. When you did your O.W.Ls, you achieved an Outstanding in Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts and an Exceeds Expectations in Potions and Herbology."
"And I flat out failed at Transfiguration," Genevieve finished, disheartened. "So what does that mean?"
"It means that you will have take up my class again."
Genevieve's eyes went wide. "Excuse me?" she said, amazed.
"You heard me."
"No, I don't think I did. You said you want me back in that class."
"You heard me perfectly clear."
"But nobody ever gets let's back into your Transfiguration class."
"I'm willing to bend the rule this once."
Genevieve dragged a hand down her face, shaking her head. "Oh, no," she murmured. "Oh, no,no, no. I can't go back in that class, Minnie. You saw me in there, I was a walking hazard! Do you remember what happened to Toby Whitley with the book?"
"I do. A nasty bruise he received at the cost of your frustration. I still want you back in that class." The professor caught sight of the small frown embedded on Genevieve's face. "I thought you would be happy to be in a class with your friends again."
She shrugged. "I guess."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed curiously at the girl. "What's this really about?"
Genevieve shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She averted her eyes to the dark floorboards as she began to speak. "It was embarrassing to be in that class, Minnie. I was the worst in it. It was pathetic to see me attempt to do anything, let alone fail at it," she admitted.
McGonagall pursed her lips as she examined the girl. "The only reason you didn't succeed in Transfiguration the first time was because of your attitude towards it. You began to lose interest as soon as you gave one sign of being bad at it instead of trying again. You could have passed that class. You just didn't want to."
Genevieve looked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "You really think I could have passed?" she asked.
McGonagall nodded. "I did then, and I do now. I'll assign someone to you for extra tutoring due to what you missed last year which was, fortunately, not a lot. You'll start Monday next week. In the mean time, please practice. Don't let any spare moment go unwanted. If you want this, prove it."
"You should be Quidditch Captain instead of James. This was the best go-team talk I've ever been given."
McGonagall pursed her lips, but didn't lecture the girl. She glanced at the ticking clock on the table. "It looks like our time is up," she said, "Lupin is waiting outside. Tell him to come straight in."
"Aye, aye," responded Genevieve, practically leaping from her seat. She collected her bag and made her way to the door with a skip in her step, pleased to finally leave the meeting. Just as she was about to exit, McGonagall's voice halted her in her steps.
"Genevieve," she called. "I saw you untuck your shirt."
"Really?" Genevieve said, genuinely amazed. "How?"
"Tell Lupin to come straight in," she repeated, looking over the top of her glasses.
Genevieve exited the class not thinking about how her meeting had been successful, but how McGonagall had seen her untuck her shirt. She had been sneaky about it, only doing so when she had her back turned to the professor and was walking out of the room. Her Grandad, who had been a history teacher, insisted that teachers were blessed a sixth sense - one that told them when a child was misbehaving. Maybe that was true.
"Daydreaming, love?"
Genevieve snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of Remus's voice. He was leant against the wall while he waited to go in, an entertained smile on his face.
"No, only curious," she answered. "She knew I untucked my shirt." When Remus's brows dipped into a confused V, she didn't elaborate. "Minnie said to go straight in."
"Grand," he said, but he didn't mean it. Or look it. He didn't jitter nervously like he used to when it came to these meetings. He stood still, already expecting what was to be said.
Nothing ever changed for Remus. James had been recommended three different careers in the space of three months, and yet McGonagall was still struggling to find one for Remus. To be rephrased - werewolves don't get employed. They have a vicious cycle of job applications and job dismissals. Nothing is ever permanent for a werewolf except their lycanthropy.
"Oh, by the way," Genevieve said before he entered, "I'm moving back into Transfiguration."
She was certain she saw Remus pale. "Merlin, give me strength," he said as he walked into the office.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Remus's meeting didn't go well. McGonagall didn't butter-coat anything, but then again he didn't want her to. It was better to know the truth then be spoon-fed lies - that way he wouldn't be leaving school expecting a bright future. He didn't want to be set up and faced with the truth too late.
He wasn't surprised in the slightest but that didn't distract from the fact that he felt somewhat let down. His expectations hadn't been high but deep down he wished McGonagall would say something different. It was after curfew and Remus and Genevieve were the only people in the common room. With her head in his lap and her legs stretched across the length of the sofa, Genevieve listened as Remus recounted his meeting in a low voice.
"I don't know why I hope something different will be said every time I go to those meetings," Remus said. "Nothing ever changes, and I'm ok with knowing that. I'm ok with familiarity. But it's doesn't mean I like it."
"The world is so unfair for the most silliest of things," stated Genevieve crossly. "So what if you grow fur? It's only for a night. Anyone who knows you knows you have the best work ethic to ever be seen and you're the most caring, considerate person going."
Remus smiled down at her and began to play with her hair. She went soft from his touch. "It's not the growing of fur that puts people of werewolves , Gen," he said, humoured. "It's probably the frenzy for blood."
"But you would never hurt anyone," Genevieve protested. The second she felt Remus's body go tense beneath her she realised her mistake. His brown eyes drifted away from her face and to her stomach. An almost discreet frown embedded his face but she caught sight of it. Beneath the material of her long sleeved top, a long scar stretched across her tanned stomach. She never wore tops that showed a bit of her belly around him anymore because she knew it would upset him. Remus had never seen it but he knew it was there.
"Purposely," she added, quietly.
There was a beat of silence where nothing but the crackle of the glowing fire was heard. Genevieve could see Remus watching the flames dance. He took in a deep breath from his nose, as if clearing himself of a memory, and then looked back down to her.
"I just don't want to be left behind," he admitted, "Peter's being recommended as a Curse-Breaker, Sirius has been told he'd be brilliant as an Auror and James has been written down as a Quidditch player ever since first year. And then there's you," he said, looking down at her almost admirably. "You're going to be a Healer."
"It's not definite."
"Gen, once you have your heart set on something there's no changing your mind. I can tell you want to be a Healer which means you'll do whatever you can to be one."
"I don't want to talk about me," Genevieve insisted.
"I don't want to talk about me anymore, either," he said.
They stared at each other stubbornly for a moment, silently daring one another to speak first. "Ok," Genevieve finally said, giving in, "but I want you to know that you won't be left behind. I promise."
The knot in Remus's brow softened at her words. He could tell when Genevieve was the telling the truth. Her voice was clear of that teasing hint he loved so much whenever she made a promise she intended to keep.
"Do you ever get tired of reassuring me of things?" he asked. "It must get annoying."
"No," she said. "Not if it reminds you that you're loved." Remus didn't say anything to that, but he couldn't help but smile. Genevieve nestled further into his lap and found comfort in the rich smell of chocolate and coffee that hung on his sweater. Lavishing in it, she felt herself beginning to fall into peacefulness until she smelled the faintest aroma of smoke.
She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "You've had a cigarette," she stated.
Remus smiled coyly. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do," Genevieve said. "Sirius gave you one, didn't he?"
"Never happened."
Genevieve tried to fight the smile tugging at her lips at his innocent facade. "I can smell the smoke, Rem, I'm not—"
Her words were lost against Remus's lips as he captured her in a soft kiss. Electricity rushed through her as she felt one of his warm hands place itself gently on her cheek. He lingered and then slowly drew away, his messy hair tickling her forehead.
"We'll come back to this conversation later," Genevieve said, slightly breathless.
Remus smiled and kissed her on the forehead. "Whatever you say, love."
A a high-pitched giggle accompanied the sound of footsteps from the common room's portrait hole. Genevieve watched as Remus's eyes widened and his lower lip dropped slightly in surprise. Confused, Genevieve sat up from his lap and looked over the back of the sofa.
It was James and Lily coming back from a Head Boy and Girl meeting, in hysterics about something. James had an arm around her waist, bracing her as she laughed giddily into his shoulder. It was dark, but the fireplace's light was enough to show the blush on both of their cheeks. They made their way back up to their dormitories while shushing each other, unaware of the eyes watching them.
Genevieve looked at Remus once they were out of sight. He looked just as shocked as her. "Do we ask them about it?" she whispered.
Remus shook his head. "No," he answered. "Give it time."
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*