"What do you suppose all those werewolves were doing in Hogsmeade?" Lily asked, putting her palms against James's scalp to still his face, pausing him kissing her jaw.
They were doing their rounds, cramped in behind one of the myriad suits of armor that lined the halls on the fifth floor, down the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts wing. They'd left Sirius and Remus in the Shrieking Shack, not long after arriving back from their venture. Peter, despite having insisted he wouldn't be the one to return with food, had actually ended up volunteering, saying he felt quite guilty imagining poor Sirius and Remus going hungry. That had left James and Lily at the castle, and James had been quite keen to get on with performing their duties as Headboy and Headgirl.
"Musn't shirk it off, eh?" he'd said, dragging her from the common room mere steps behind Peter Pettigrew, "I mean we've already missed one night of rounds, we musn't miss two."
Now, Lily's back pressed to the wall behind the suit of armor, James's palms flat on the tapestry she leaned against, his mouth smearing kisses along her jaw, she'd caught sight of the moon through one of the tall windows, reminding her of the werewolves.
James's face showed concern. "Am I so shoddy at snogging that you're thinking about that instead of... you know... this?" he asked.
Lily laughed.
James continued, "Oi, I oughtn't to have taken any snogging advice from Sirius."
Lily raised an eyebrow, "You took advice on snogging from Sirius Black?" she asked.
"Well," James shrugged, "Only about what it is that girls like best."
"Like Sirius bloody knows a thing about what girls want," Lily hooted.
"Seeing as he might as well be one," James said, shrugging again.
Lily giggled.
James flushed, "Dunno, just figured he might have some pointers how to make you happy is all."
Lily asked, "And what about all the snogging you've already done in your life?"
"Hush," James answered.
"I'm only saying that it isn't as though you've lacked any practice at the skill is all," she laughed.
James's flush deepened. "I guess..."
"And what'd you do with them?" she asked, "Hold hands?"
"I mean... no," James answered, wishing she'd let the subject go.
"James Potter," Lily asked, mock-accusingly, "Are you a naturally terrible kisser?"
"No, I'm not terrible," James replied, "At least not in the mechanics of it. Hey -" he cut her off before she could ask him for details about the phrase the mechanics of it, not really wanting to tell her about the Oh Gods Evans incident, " - Let's talk about your thing now. There werewolves in Hogsmeade? Whatever could it mean?"
Lily could see the embarassment in his eyes - desperate as they were - and decided that she'd let it go... for now. Eventually, she vowed to herself, she'd circle back and find out what the bloody hell he was on about. She just couldn't, in good conscience, go on teasing him at this point. And so she allowed him to change the subject, saying, "And with Dumbledore and Urquart and Veigler and even Minnie, too!"
"Yes, and Garm and Frek and Mr. Scamander..." James shook his head, "Remus was really concerned, I could tell the way he was looking when you lot were talking on the way back to the Shack. He thinks something's going on that they're excluding him from."
Lily sighed and slid down the wall so she was sitting on the carpet and James sat beside her. "I really hate that Remus has to suffer like that," she murmured, looking at her fingers, "Being a werewolf, I mean."
"Me, too," James agreed.
They sat in a grim silence for several long moments, Lily picking quietly at a loose nail on her thumb and James resting his chin on his knee, lost in thought. Suddenly, they both started to speak at exactly the same time.
"What?" Lily asked James, stopping mid-sentence.
"No, you," James replied - ever the gentleman.
"Well I was just going to say that perhaps this has something to do with the research Mr. Scamander was doing to see why the full moon's effects have been extra terrible for Mr. Veigler and Remus lately," Lily suggested, "Perhaps he's found some sort of cure for them. Wouldn't that be lovely? If Mr. Scamander found a cure for werewolfishness? And just imagine if he did! Remus wouldn't have to spend the night in that drafty old shack any longer, and he could be a perfectly normal boy again, and live a perfectly normal life. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
James nodded enthusiastically.
Lily sighed to herself, pleased with the thought of Remus Lupin being a perfectly normal human and no longer plagued by his furry little problem. She smiled sweetly, then cleared her throat, pushing the thought from her mind, realizing it was honestly the least likley of all the possibilities. She looked at James. "What were you about to say, then?"
James hesitated.
"Potter?"
"I was just going to ask if you wanted to get on with snogging yet is all," he admitted, a devilish grin crawling across his full lips, and a gleam in his eye.
Lily nodded in a businesslike manner, "Yes, I suppose we ought," she said, and she turned so that she was kneeling beside him, bending forward, her hair hanging like a bright red curtain to block the joining of their faces.
Far below, many many floors down, in the dungeons, Frek stood, shaking in the passageway that cut through the rows of cells. Barred doors locked, torches burning low, there was no moonlight visible here, no windows to allow it entry. Frek stared between the bars of the cell nearest him, his eyes lingering on the black bulk of sleeping fur in the corner of the room. "G'nite Messer Garm," he murmured, turning and inching away. He held his torch in his meaty fists, one eye on the wolf in the cell for a leery moment before he blew out the fire, and scrambled back to the stairs that led up and out of the dungeons.
Upstairs, in Dumbledore's office, there was a tenseness - a worried anticipation. Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Elphinstone Urquart all sat about Dumbledore's office, drinking steaming hot tea from magenta china cups, trimmed with gold leaf stars. Queenie Kowalski stood by the fire place, staring lovingly up at the beautiful golden plumes of the Phoenix, Fawkes, who she stroked gently with a forefinger. Fawkes lovingly coddled her hand and she smiled when he gently nibbled on the edge of her fingernail, something he'd done as a tiny hatchling many times during her time at Numengard so many years ago...
There came a knock upon the door and they all turned, anxious. Dumbledore waved a palm, opening it magically from across the room. Newt Scamander entered, followed by Tina Scamander, and Horace Slughorn. McGonagall's hand gripped Urquart's nervously, and Queenie turned from Fawkes to face the newcomers. Horace Slughorn, who was clad in his pyjamas and fluffy, rabbit-shaped slippers, was panting from climbing the great many stairs to the office, and took pause, shaking a handkerchief from his wand, which he used to wipe his brow.
"Mr. Scamander?" Dumbledore questioned - his voice edged with the same anxiety that covered the faces of all but Queenie, who had heard her answer already in Newt's mind, her nervousness melting away as she turned back to the phoenix.
"All - all the wolves are s- sound asleep," Mr. Scamander reported, dropping tiredly into one of the few open seats before Dumbledore's desk. He heaved a sigh, one of his suspenders slipping off one shoulder, his greying auburn hair hanging in a messy clump over his forehead. Tina reached 'round and straightened the suspender, taking the seat beside Newt and nodding appreciation as Dumbledore waved his wand, making a cup of tea appear before her. She sipped it gratefully. Newt reached up and wiped a smudge from her cheek with his thumb, and she blushed slightly.
"So the Wolfsbane is working well?" Dumbledore intoned.
"Ex-exceptionally well," Mr. Scamander nodded.
Dumbledore smiled, "A feat to which we owe our potions master a most heartfelt thanks."
Slughorn looped his thumbs through the sash about the waist of his burgundy velvet sleeping robe, proud of his accomplishment. "Think nothing of it, nothing of it..." murmured Slughorn. "Only it is lucky that Damacoles Belby trusted his old potions professor with his recipe. Owed me a favor, you know," he added, winking at McGonagall and Urquart, "Having been in the Slug Club back in his days at Hogwarts, it was I, after all, who introduced him to his contact at the Ministry."
Urquart - the contact in question - nodded, "That you did, sir," he answered, "And a fine acquisition he's turned out to be indeed." When Slughorn had puffed up with these words, Urquart snuck a small smirk to McGonagall, amused at the pompous old potions master.
"A fine acquisition!" McGonagall huffed, "Indeed, seeing as he's only found the way to cure werewolves of their symptoms!"
"Not cure, honey," Queenie injected, having seen the effects of the wolfsbane in the images floating about in the minds of Newt, Tina, and Slughorn, who was still nervously dabbing his forehead. "Only to tame. They're still wolves, you know."
McGonagall looked slightly put off by being not only corrected by addressed as honey, but it made Elphinstone's slight smirk only deepen. He squeezed her fingers and she said, "Taming werewolves is as good as curing them for many of those who suffer the condition."
Dumbledore nodded, "Well put, Minerva."
"If only it wasn't such a terrible hard thing to brew!" Slughorn said, "All the stores I've made since the middle of summer, used up in one full moon! And not enough ingredients, or time, to create enough more for to cover the needs of next month..."
Dumbledore replied, "Put together your list and I shall see to it that you have whatever it is you need to provide at least Mr. Garm, per our agreement of hire, with his monthly dosage."
Slughorn nodded, and returned to wiping his face quietly.
Tina looked upset. "What of Mr. Veigler? And our son - Bradley?"
Dumbledore started to answer, but McGonagall cut him off, "And -- and Mr. Lupin?"
Horace Slughorn's eyes turned on Minerva McGonagall's in concern at the name, but he didn't speak.
"I've contracted the promise of the potion to Mr. Garm first," Dumbledore replied, "And any stores that are obtained thereafter shall be distributed accordingly to the others." He paused, "Though I do expect once the report of the wolfsbane's success reaches the Ministry, they shall be most pleased to begin distribution through their own programming."
Elphinstone Urquart nodded. "Assuming they aren't too caught up in the thought of the horror of the Hogwarts dungeons being filled up with werewolves, that is... stolen werewolves at that," he added.
"Stolen or not, the Ministry ought to be able to overlook the details..." Dumbledore murmured. "But then," he ceded, "It is the Ministry. Sometimes, they lose sight of the forest for the trees, so to speak." Dumbledore put his tea cup down and walked over to the window of his office, staring out at the moon hanging high above the castle in the inky black sky. "After all," he murmured, "Taming werewolves from the effects of the full moon... The potion is for the greater good. It isn't as though there are any other ways to tame a werewolf that have yet been discovered."
The wolf form of Remus Lupin lay curled about the form of Snuffles. They lay on the broken down couch in the living room of the Shrieking Shack. A sliver of moonlight sliced the floor, illuminating dusty pawprints and empty plates on the floor. On the arm of the couch, tail curled about the oblong body, lay a rat, snoozing, clutching a last bit of bread between his spidley paws. The wolf snuffed in his sleep and kicked a little, the dog adjusting his head to nuzzle comfortably into the warm folds of the wolve's thick silver-brown fur.
It was on his way back to the office on the fifth floor that Frek stumbled over something protruding from behind one of the suits of armor. He lit his wand and held it high, illuminating the headboy and girl, who had fallen asleep in their hiding place, curled around one another. James Potter's arm had slid into the corridor and been the thing which Frek had tripped upon. The headboy's eyes opened slowly as the light of Frek's wand glowed over them.
"Ye best be goings to bed," Frek murmured, "Afore you've been caught by Messer Filch."
"Blimey," James murmured, sitting up quickly, nearly tipping Lily over. "Evans, love. We've fallen asleep in the corridor."
"Hmm?" Lily murmured.
James drew his wand carefully, lighting it, and then scooped Lily up gently, clutching her to his chest. "Sorry, Professor," he mumbled, slipping out of the little alcove quickly, carefully mindful of Lily's head so as not to bump it as he turned. "We were - er - doing our rounds and took a bit of - of a break." He flushed.
Frek nodded, "Of course yer was," he answered. "Off to beds with you," and he shooed them off.
James carried Lily quickly through the castle to the moving staircase, and up to Gryffindor tower, where he laid her gently on the couch in the common room, before dropping down and returning to sleep himself on the floor beside her - each holding onto the other's hand in the dark.