“The weirdest thing just happened,” Remus strides into the common room a little dazed.
James and Sirius are bouncing scraps of parchment on a snoozing Peter’s forehead when Remus makes his announcement.
The two boys flick the last piece of paper, with the combined force of two incredibly talented Quidditch players, onto Peter’s head to wake him up; it does the trick, the poor mouse jerks awake.
“Well, what gives, Moony?” James asks curiously.
Remus brews a cup of tea and heaves himself into the armchair beside Peter.
“I went to retrieve my books from Charms, right? Flitwick wasn’t there, but his first years had already seated themselves,” Remus explains. “And when I walked in all the chatter died down, and the class stood up to greet me.”
Sirius raises a manicured brow. “Isn’t the respect a good thing?”
“No, they said Good Morning Professor,” Remus pitches his voice high as he stresses the greeting.
His focus on the enactment leads him to stirring his peppermint tea with a quill instead of a spoon.
Peter gently removes the ceramic mug from his hand, setting about to brew him a proper cup. Relieved of the fragile object in his hands, Remus smiles gratefully at his friend – now able to gesticulate the severity of the matter.
James cackles wildly, “They assumed you were the professor?”
“So everyone is finally catching our drift,” Sirius adds, smiling like a proud mother. “Good on you, Moons.”
“What about me screams Professor?” Remus scoffs.
The response, unexpectedly, comes from Peter. “I wonder what about your white shirt, sweater vest and slacks make you look like a dignified Oxford grad, Moony, I really wonder.”
“But I wear our uniform,” the boy points out, “doesn’t that make it obvious that i study here and not teach.”
“But I don’t think I’ve seen you in robes since the first day of class, years ago Moony,” Sirius rebuttals with a laugh.
“You look like the muggles in the films that Lily brings in those cassettes,” James nods. “It’s definitely your sweaters.”
“It’s much too warm for a proper jumper, but cold enough for a vest,” Remus argues half-heartedly.
“It’s not just that, you’re tall and smart and so –” Sirius interrupts himself. “You just emanate this professor-y aura. I, personally, find it incredibly sexy,” he winks.
“The point, my dear Moony,” James pushes his glasses with his shoulder. “Is that you’re like a teacher, and it’s not just your clothes.”
Given Remus’ conflicted expression, he definitely disagreed.
“Mr Lupin,” McGonagall beckons him into her chamber. “Please sit. How are your classes?”
“I’m enjoying them, Professor,” Remus replies, nicking two sweets from her glass jar.
The sudden pursing of her lips indicates her increased efforts to hide her smile. Remus knows she loves it when he jests with her.
“And I have heard,” she composes herself, “that you have been a wonder in Ms Sharma’s class. She doesn’t spare kind words easily, but she speaks of you very highly.”
“Defence is especially interesting,” Remus deflects the compliment, but his pinking ears deceive him.
Minerva’s eyes glint. “And what of Potions? Are you glad you dropped it?”
“I think Professor Slughorn is happier about that,” Remus snorted.
“Well then, what are you thinking of pursuing after N.E.W.Ts?”
The conversation drew up to a blank.
Remus chewed on the inside of his cheek. She had asked him the same question the last two sessions as well, and he had replied with a half-hearted I’m still exploring my options. They both knew his array of choices were rather limited.
“Don’t think too hard Remus,” she pats his hand kindly. “You’ll do just fine in whatever you choose.”
“You don’t think Ms Pince would let me be a Librarian here, do you?” He jokes.
The Gryffindor house-head cracks a small smile, “I think she would be more disappointed that you’re selling yourself too short.”
Not much leaves Remus speechless, given his constant company of troublemakers (he can talk about objectively repulsive things now without batting an eye or blocking his nostrils, he’s developed an immunity to things that would leave others flabbergasted). But this does leave him a little stunned.
“Don’t you have a study group to attend to? Or is it the Duelling Club?”
Remus snaps out of his stupor in record time, piling his pockets with a few more toffees from McGonagall’s glass dish.
He looks at the clock hanging behind her wide-eyed. “Duelling Club. Merlin’s balls, I haven’t any time to prepare. Shit, I didn’t mean to swear. Ah fuck, I did it again, didn’t I?”
McGonagall covers her mouth with her fingers, physically restraining a laugh. It would be inappropriate to encourage his vulgarity so openly. Not that she actually minded it, she had grown used to the potty-mouth that Lupin was.
He pauses for a second, and smiles sheepishly. “You know what, I’ll let myself out. G’night, Professor.”
Minerva watches fondly, as the boy straightens out of his slouch to scurry to the library to tend to his younger peers. She hopes he will see in himself what the rest of the world sees in him.
The last moon was just under a week ago, and according to James’ dramatic renditions of their treks that night, Moony had gone mental. And now Remus was left with a muscle ache in his arms.
After his last class, Care of Magical Creatures, for the day, Remus trudges slowly across the grounds, inhaling the crisp autumn air. He mentally creates plans of lazing by the fireplace with a mug of tea and a Sirius Black, it would be the best way to unwind.
His plans don’t get the chance to develop any further because that’s when he hears a resounding crash.
“Mona!” he hears a terrified shriek. “Merlin! I knew we shouldn’t have tried it on our own!”
Trouble not only follows him, it also seeks him out specifically.
Remus speeds his walk to the source of the sound. The huge oak tree shelters two frightened girls, and by the looks of it, Mona – he assumes – has definitely snapped a bone.
“‘ello,” He smiles his kindly, “I’m Remus. Are you alright? I heard the yell.”
“I’m Imaan. This is Mona, she was trying the spin that got Regulus Black the snitch today afternoon,” the young Slytherin explains, her hands flitting over her friend in terror.
Remus makes a mental note to congratulate Regulus and then placate James and Sirius.
Mona groans in pain, shifting her weight onto her bottom and kicks her broken broom away feebly. “Turns out its not advisable to try it beside a tree.”
Remus kneels beside the pair, “D’ you mind if i take a look?”
She nods affirmatively, going pale in the face.
“It’s not mangled, is it?” Imaan panics about Mona’s pallid appearance.
“No,” he reassures them and gently draws her arm out from her body. His monthly visits to the infirmary have taught him a lot. And this was a clean snap, which was an easy fix for him.
One wand-less Episkey later, her limp hand is sturdy again. Remus taps on it a few times to check if it had healed.
“Right,” he helps her up, “you’re good as new.”
The stare at him with pure admiration. “Oh, thank you so much!! We would have gotten into so much trouble otherwise! Thank you, really!”
Remus laughs, “Don’t sweat it, it was no trouble. Now, I must remind you not to try such tricks alone. Besides, I’m sure Regulus would help if you asked.”
“Do you think?” they blink up at him.
“Yes,” he nods sagely. “He would love to help.”
The girls thank him again and skedaddle, heads together in excitement.
Remus also leaves, satisfied. James and Sirius would love the little harmless lark he just pulled on Regulus – who couldn’t entertain a child to save his life, because he was the youngest of the Black family.
“You’re somewhat of a legend now Moony,” Sirius throws his bag onto his bed before climbing into Remus’ bunk.
“That’s nice,” Remus replies, not really paying attention. His homework wasn’t going to write itself, even if it was due only next week.
“The youngsters are incredibly protective of you,” Sirius informs him, laying his head down on his boyfriend’s shin.
“A fourth year Hufflepuff sucker punched one of Snape’s goons.”
“Say what now,” he sits up, alarmed.
Sirius smirks, fiddling with Remus’ pant leg languidly. “Minnie allowed it, you know. Rosier was starting shit again and I was gearing up to crack his skull open but I got beat to the punch.”
Remus ignores the pun. “Was it worth a cuffing though?”
“He was saying something about you being a swot and a suck-up and other things that I will not repeat. Regular bullshit from a jealous person, seeing as his grades are plummeting worse than Malfoy on a broom. And next thing I know, this little runt stalks up to him and throws a feisty punch,” Sirius relays the incident excitedly.
Remus watches the mono-act with slight amusement.
Sirius punches the air, “Don’t you dare speak about Remus like that.” He turns back to Remus with an amused smile, “He walked off after that, with kids from your study groups following him in solidarity.”
“I… fuckin’ hell. Did he get hurt?”
“Looked proud of himself more than anything. Minnie docked points from Slytherin for unprovoked fighting and gave the kid a detention with Sprout. Convinced me that she loves you the most.”
Before Remus could reply, there’s a knock at their door. Sirius unlatches it, to reveal a cluster of tittering third years.
“Hi, Remus. Are you busy?” Quentin asks.
There goes his homework time.
“Erm, no, not really. Is something the matter?”
“Would you mind helping us out with Defence? Professor Sharma told us to ask you, if you were free to tutor us.”
Sirius grins elatedly. “Right then. Professor Lupin, why don’t you take this classroom down, eh, I promise I’ll do my homework.”
“Alright.” He kisses Sirius goodbye and follows the group into the common room where the third year girls were pacing in anticipation.
“He came!” they cried in delight.
“Quite a Casanova you are, Remus,” Marlene raises her brows emphatically. “Teach me your ways, Great One!”
“Take that stick out your arse and kiss Dorcas, god knows how long she’s been waiting,” he whispers back. Remus doesn’t stay to hear Marlene’s stuttering.
He makes a pot of tea and gathers the group beside the fireplace. They sit in an eager semicircle in front of him.
“Alright, let’s begin with Bowtruckles. That’s what Sharma is doing in class next week, right?” Remus rolls his sleeves up.
“Mr Lupin,” McGongall looks up from grading her essays, surprised. “Do come in, is something the matter?”
“Good evening, Professor. Terribly sorry for interrupting,” He prattles nervously.
She adjusts her glasses. “You didn’t turn the Great Hall upside down like last time, did you?”
“That wasn’t us,” he protests weakly.
McGonagall waves her hand dismissively. “No one else can manage that kind of magic, Mr Lupin. So what is it? Running interference for Potter? Sirius having trouble with his, ah, his family?”
“Er, no, it’s something else.”
She waits patiently for him to gather his bearings.
“Do you think,” he starts, “that I’d make a good teacher?”
The smile he gets from McGonagall is nothing short of proud.
“I think that would be a very wise choice. You know, Ms Clarksworth and Ms Hassan were singing praises of your wand-less magic? They didn’t give much context, but they were very taken by you.”
Remus blushes under his golden skin.
“And the first years?” she shakes her head. “Remus, I think you’ve got an extensive fanbase, but also a very loyal army. Take pride in your efforts; your passion is palpable. But your talents are also unmatched.”
“So you’d encourage it if i wanted to pursue teaching Defence?”
“Indeed. I look forward to teaching alongside you at some point,” she smiles.
“Then I’d like to become a Defence against Dark Arts professor.”
She pushes the bowl of sour candy towards him. “And a mighty good one, at that.”
