Remus was pacing in his office, nervously glancing at the watch on his wrist, then up at the clock on the mantel. Time was crawling along, getting later and later and he could feel anxiety antsing up inside of him. He felt nauseated and a bit dizzy - the late February moon always had this effect on him. What kind of cruel fate was it that the month that controlled his pancreas was also the one that effected the small intestine, too? A question he asked every year when his blood sugar dropped but the very thought of food - even chocolate - nauseated him and would cause gastrointestinal issues that were just humiliating even for a wolf. He wanted to just take the bloody wolfsbane and about a gallon of sleeping draught and call it a night - a week, for that matter - because it had certainly been a long one.
Harry was frustrated because, despite the entire bloody school seeing his patronus charge the fake dementors at the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game, he, Harry, had not seen the full corporeal shape for himself and he was discounting his abilities. The fact that Harry felt so frustrated was frustrating Remus because he felt that perhaps Harry thought he was some sort of poor teacher for it, as though if Remus were doing better at his job then Harry would be able to cast a full corporeal patronus at will.
It just didn't work like that. It was miraculous that it had happened even the twice he'd done it. The wisps of some that usually rose from the tip of Harry's wand were much more the pace for a wizard his age to be producing only a couple months after beginning practicing the patronus charm. But bleedin' hell if Remus could get that through Harry's skull. He was so much like his father - determined to instantly be the best at everything and anything he waved his wand at...
Where the bleeding hell was Severus Snape? Remus looked at the clock on the mantel again, then down at his watch, checking time against one another, half worrying that perhaps one of the two of them had stopped and at any moment the moon would come in through the window and transform him and with his bloody luck he'd rampage half the castle before Dumbledore could neutralize him.
Fine, if Snape was too damned busy to bring the potion then Remus would just have to go without. If he waited around much longer, he wouldn't have time to get out to the Shack. He stormed into his private quarters and started haucking things into a ruck sack, cursing and muttering to himself. "Great greasy git headed slimeball --"
"LUPIN!"
Remus's head snapped up from where he'd been staring down into the rucksack. His mind quickly rushed over the last four to five words that had come out of his mouth. How much of it had Severus Snape heard? "Shit," Remus muttered, and he ducked out onto the landing overlooking the office below, expecting to see Severus with a goblet of bubbling purple potion, but there was no Snape. His brow knit and he walked as quickly as his horrid knees would allow, down the steps. "Severus?" he called.
"LUPIN, I WANT A WORD!" the words were accompanied by a flash of green light from the fireplace and Remus turned about, realizing it was the Floo Network.
"Lazy git why don't you just walk up here --" Remus muttered, reaching for the box of floo powder on the mantel, nearly knocking over the black vase that held a single, dry, half-wilted rose. He steadied it and sighed, shaking his head, and pinched what he needed out. He stepped into the floo and felt as though he were on a long twisting slide that went through the castle floors as quick as could be before being coughed out into the office of Severus Snape.
Dusting off, Remus stood up right and looked around.
Simmering on a small bunson was the cauldron of Wolfsbane. A tray of aconite leaves - the final ingredient before serving - sat beside the cauldron, along with the empty goblet. Beside these lay a bag from Zonko's, the contents having spilled out on the desk.
He turned around.
Sitting in the chair, looking completely bewildered, red about the face, and eyes wide with trouble was James.
No - Harry.
Harry looked something between terrified and relieved to see Remus, and Remus's eyes turned from Harry to Severus Snape and --
His breath caught in his throat.
The Marauders Map hung from Severus's hand.
There was a pause - a moment in which Severus raised his eyebrows at Remus, expecting an initial, uncontrolled reaction, but luckily, Remus was so shocked to see it in such an odd place that he reacted more with curiosity (how the bloody hell did it get here?) than with the clear recognition that Snape had hoped for.
"You called, Severus?" Remus said, keeping his tone even.
"I certainly did," Severus was ripe - his face contorting, his hands shaking as he thrust the map toward Remus with such ferocity that Remus nearly jumped back from the motion out of instinct. "I have just asked Potter to empty out his pockets. He was carrying this." The words Potter and this were said with equal hatred, equal disdain.
Remus's eyes moved over the words.
Messer Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.
Messer Prongs agrees with Messer Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git.
Messer Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor.
Messer Wormtail bids Professor Snape a good day, and advisesn him to wash his hair, the slime ball.
Remus stared.... and stared... and stared...
For bloody fucking hell's sake, Remus -- Remus thought viciously to himself -- do not laugh. DO NOT LAUGH. Oh Gods how do I not laugh? I've never wanted to laugh more than this in my entire life. There have been a thousand pranks, twelve million jokes, and twice that in stupid puns. And this -- THIS MOMENT -- will forever be the one in which I had to fight the hardest to contain my bloody laughter. I don't care what Sirius has or has not done, the next time I see him I am telling him about this moment and we are going to laugh our arses right off. There is no way I'm going to make it through the next thirty seconds without laughing. Thanks be to every god in the entire history of mankind, the universe, and any other meta-verses there are that legilimency is useless on werewolves.
"WELL?" pressed Snape, shaking the parchment at Remus.
THINK ABOUT SOMETHING HORRIBLE LUPIN! SOMETHING DOWN RIGHT DEPRESSING!! YOU'VE BEEN DEPRESSED FOR TWELVE YEARS, SURELY YOU'VE GOT SOME SORT OF NASTY THOUGHT YOU CAN THINK RIGHT NOW THAT WILL KEEP THIS BLEEDING LAUGHTER IN YOUR BODY.
Remus could feel Harry's eyes on him.
He didn't dare to open his mouth.
He looked directly into Severus Snape's eyes.
"This parchment is plainly full of Dark Magic," Severus said coldly, glaring about as hard as Severus Snape had ever glared at anybody before in his entire life.
He had to of practiced that stare in a mirror, Remus thought. People don't just go about being BORN with faces like THAT.
"This is supposed to be YOUR area of expertise, Lupin," Snape said, his tone digging. "Where... do you... imagine... Potter... got such a thing?"
Remus's eyes twitched to Harry.
Gods alive, don't speak. Don't speak. Don't try to answer that. Just keep your mouth shut, James.
"Full of Dark Magic?" It took every ounce of strength to keep the words even. He took a deep breath through his nose and steeled himself. "Do you really think so, Severus?" He reached out a hand to take the Map, but Severus snatched it back, away from Remus's reach.
Remus could almost hear the aht-ahhht-ahhht! though Snape didn't actually speak it.
He felt a bubble of indigestion burst in his stomach. There was no way he wasn't going to throw up when he left here. He just hoped he'd be able to keep the wolfsbane down. Assuming Severus got around to putting the aconite in and giving him the dosage. His eyes flitted to the clock ticking on Severus's wall and then down to his watch.
Remus looked back up. Snape was staring at him imploringly. Harry was staring at him with wide eyes. Everyone waiting for what Remus would say. He could feel his brain zipping through a thousand ways to spin this - thinking quickly, desperately.
"It looks to me as though it's merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it," he forced a chuckle. "Childish, but surely not dangerous...? I imagine that Harry got it from a joke shop --"
"INDEED?" Snape cut through Remus's words and if looks could kill, then bloody hell Remus would be pushing daisies up for days. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing?" Snape's jaw was as tightly wound as possible, and he spoke through teeth clenched so tight it was a wonder they didn't snape in half. "You don't think it more likely that he got it DIRECTLY FROM THE MANUFACTURERS?"
Remus blinked rapidly, tilting his head slightly, a twitch to his mouth -
STOP IT DON'T LAUGH. HOLY FUCK. THE MANUFACTURERS? SNAPE YOU IDIOT! How is James keeping it together?
He looked at James.
But James was Harry and the smile melted right out of him.
He cleared his throat.
"You - you mean that he might have gotten it from Mr. Wormtail or - or one of - of these people?" Remus waved as casually as he could at the Map.
He would've laughed outright if he'd spoken even one more of the names. As it was, he'd nearly done himself in saying the one.
He knew precisely the medicine that would keep him from laughing - the cure that was sure to do it.
"Harry," Remus said, eyes turning from the Map and Snape's glare, to focus on the boy... the boy who ought to really have gotten it from the Manufacturers themselves, but whose opportunity for such a thing had been stolen away... "Do you know any of these men?"
"No," Harry said quickly.
Remus turned back to Snape, every ounce of laughter gone from his face now.
"You see, Severus... It looks like a Zonko product to me --"
The door burst open then, and Ronald Weasley launched himself through the door, breathless and doubled over, hands on his knees. He raised one finger - "One mo' --" he panted, trying at catching oxygen into his lungs. Severus, Harry, and Remus all stared at the ginger head as he shook it and stared down at the floor for several seconds before standing up right and, still gasping, "I -- gave Harry -- that -- stuff," he was choking on the words. "I -- Bought it -- Bought it in -- Zonko's -- ages -- ages ago."
Severus glowered at Ron with all the anger and contempt that he'd ever held in his eyes looking at Sirius Black coming to the aid of James back in the day and Remus couldn't help but think the comparison rather an apt one.
Before Snape could recover from the shock of seeing his past relived, Remus quickly clapped his hands together, "Well that seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" he snatched the Map quickly, tucking it away in his jacket before Snape's fingers could close 'round it again. "Harry - Ron -- come with me, I need a word about my Vampire essay --- excuse us, Severus..." Remus hurried and ushered Ron and Harry out the door and down the corridor as quickly as his knees could carry them.
How in Merlin's left nutsack did I ever get through that with a straight face?
He pushed the boys upstairs into the entrance hall, listening, half expecting to hear either the sounds of Snape following after or else shattering glass. He was certain his cauldron of wolfsbane had just been hurled against the wall - and if it hadn't, then there was still no way in hell he was trusting any potion that came from Snape that night. No, it was to the Shrieking Shack he would have to go - and quickly, the moon was fast approaching and the walk was a long one.
Harry suddenly stopped short and turned around to face Remus. "Professor, I --"
Remus felt suddenly extremely dizzy. The smell of food wafting from the Great Hall mixing with the excitement and the full moon's effect on his pancreas seemed to have spun him, and perhaps that was why his words came so harsh:
"I don't want to hear explanations! I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes -- I know it's a map." Both Harry and Ron looked at him with wide eyes. "I don't want to know how it fell into your possession..." Remus had a feeling he knew anyway, thinking suddenly of Fred and George Weasley, but how they got it was beyond him - Wally had told James Mr. Filch took it, and they'd always hoped someone had found a way to break it out of Filch's office, though he, Remus, had never really thought it had happened until he went to look for it back around Christmas time... "I am, however, astounded that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after what happened the last time a student left information about the castle lying around!" Remus's voice shook. He felt guilty, for the look on Harry's face was one of shame. "I can't let you have it back, Harry."
Harry nodded, hanging his head. Then he looked up. "Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?"
"Because.... the mapmakers... would have wanted to - to lure you out of the school," he said. He paused. Then, "They'd think it extremely entertaining."
"Do you know them?" Harry asked, impressed.
Remus stared at Harry, their eyes locked. He stared into Harry's eyes. "We've -- met."
Harry stared back, eyes searching Remus's with interest.
Somewhere in the castle, an old grandfather clock was chiming loudly and Remus realized he had a terribly short time to get out to the Shrieking Shack before he would transform. He sighed and looked at Harry, the look of intense interest in Harry's eyes bright and strongly reminiscent of James's hungry expression every time there was a challenge to be risen to: Don't go out to the forrest? Okay, let's go to the forrest. Don't mess with that squid? Make it fly! Don't cross the most evil, dark wizard of all time? Sure, we'll call him a WANKER at the age of eleven while trying to STUN HIM.
Gods alive, Harry's the same person.
"Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry." How many times did Remus say those words to James? Countless.
And countless times James had rushed into things, risked his life, been nearly killed. Kidnapped by the Dark Lord - blasted through walls and sent to Mungo's with spell damages and broken limbs and bloody missing body parts... was that all part of the experience of knowing a Potter? Even a miniature one?
Would this reckless behavior repeat itself again?
Would Harry end up chancing his life the same way as James had done a hundred times over before it finally ended up being the last time?
The last thing Remus wanted was there to be a last time for Harry as there had been for James.
And suddenly he was really, really, really angry. He was angry as hell at James Potter, for one, for handing off his thick, reckless genes to his son, and now here Harry was, doing the same - bloody- type - things! No regard for Sirius Black - whether Sirius was actually there to try to kill Harry or not, it didn't matter - Harry still was under the impression he was and so the intent to be reckless and careless was there and why didn't Potter boys ever USE THEIR BLOODY HEADS? Was the concept of self-preservation completely lost on them?!
Remus's anger - or fear, rather - really shook his tone as he scolded Harry:
"I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously. I would have thought that what you have heard when the dementors draw near you would have had more of an effect on you. Your parents gave their lives to keep you alive, Harry! A poor way to repay them -- gambling their sacrifice -- for - for -- for a bag of magic tricks!"
His voice shook, breaking on the last words, and he realized he couldn't say anything more without completely breaking down, and he rushed - as quickly as he could - to the door, pushing his way onto the grounds, his hands quaking and his gait uneven. He nearly tripped on the way down the stairs and he glanced back over his shoulder, half expecting Harry Potter to have followed him as James might've done but he reckoned that he must've scared the James right out of Harry because the entrance door had closed tight behind him and he was alone on the twilit grounds.
"Fuck," he muttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He banged his palm against his forehead, his heart broken for having snapped. He'd felt such a ridiculous range of emotions - from delirium to hysteric fear and anger and back again - all with dangerously low blood sugar and the squirm of the unturned wolf raging in his stomach.
If Harry had ever trusted him before - he probably didn't now.
What did I do?
"Oh gods," he moaned and he wheeled into one of the bushes, throwing up violently, one palm bracing him against the outer stone wall of Hogwarts, the other holding back his tie and robes. "Oh gods." He squatted down, closing his eyes. "Oh gods."
Suddenly there was a strong hand on his shoulder.
He looked up into grey eyes.
"There you are. It's nearly moonrise."
He couldn't - all his energy was spent. He shook his head, miserable, delirious.
Sirius's arms slid under him, lifting him up from the ground, and under the boughs of the stilled Whomping Willow to the already open knot hole at the base of the trunk.