A/N: Here’s Chapter 1, after (no doubt) countless attempts to upload it to . -.- I have little/no patience. Le sigh.

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is not mine, I’m merely borrowing the characters for my own twisted purposes.

                                                                                                                                                    

this world(as timorous itsters all
to call their cowardice quite agree)
shall never discover our touch and feel
--for love are in we are in love are in we;
for you are and i am and we are(above
and under all possible worlds)in love

The Great Advantage To Being Alive; e. e. cummings                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

All Possible WorldsChapter 1

It seemed almost like a scene out of a Muggle fairy tale. The dim lights reflected off of the crystal chandeliers that hung above every table, making them seem as though they were made out of stardust. The orchestra of instruments enchanted to play themselves struck up sweet ballads in the corner, perfect for a princess and her prince to dance to. Brightly colored streamers covered every wall, and balloons charmed to always keep their air floated near the ceiling. The twenty round tables draped in white lace tablecloths lined the edges of the room, surrounding a large marble floor made for dancing the night away. And indeed, pretty girls dressed in fancy dress robes of pink and lavender and silver and other lovely colors twirled dizzily around the floor with their beaus. It was a night made of dreams.

And yet Professor Minerva McGonagall had resigned herself to sitting on her own, sipping a small gillywater more out of a desire to appear busy than actual thirst. She, unlike some of her less professional colleagues, had not dolled herself up in her finest dress robes and charmed her hair. Instead she had settled for a rather practical red dress robe, which hung from her slim body instead of clinging as the more fashionable robes did. She was a woman of 41, after all, and she saw no reason to pretend she was as young as the silly giggling girls dancing with their partners. And for that reason she had left her long, black hair up in its usual bun instead of letting it fall free over her shoulders and down her back.

The cause for all this extravagance was Cornelius Fudge’s third inaugural ball, and indeed, he had gone all out to celebrate his recent success in the race for Minister of Magic. Of course, Minerva thought with disdain, the Ministry is certainly downplaying the fact that no one was running against Minister Fudge.  If it had been Minerva’s choice, she would have happily stayed at Hogwarts and written out some of her lesson plans. Of course, she had almost all of September written out, but one could never be too prepared. And anything would be preferable to this pathetic way for the Ministry to show off its wealth.

However, the whole of the Hogwarts staff had been invited to the inaugural ball, and (quite conveniently, in Minerva’s opinion) Professor Dumbledore had been unable to attend. As the Deputy Headmistress, it was Minerva’s duty to show up as the representative of the school, in the Headmaster’s absence.

Surprisingly, she was not the only one from the staff to attend, although many had found excuses to decline—such as Sarah Sinistra and Filius Flitwick, as well as Trelawney, who never stepped foot outside of her tower unless it was strictly necessary, Hagrid, and of course Filch would never even dream of attending.

However, Rose Sprout was chatting cheerfully with Amelia Bones, in her old robes of earthy green. Ariedia Vector had gotten all decked out for the occasion in robes of pink silk, her hair curled and pulled up into a fancy clip, and Minerva found herself wondering how a woman who taught such a sensible subject as Arithmancy could be so foolish at times. Even Poppy Pomfrey had come with her family, consisting of her husband and grown-up son.

Most shocking of all, however, was the fact that Severus Snape had decided to attend. His dress robes were plain and black, hardly different from work robes, and he had immediately claimed a table in the darkest corner as his own, and he sat there alone, scowling at the dancers on the floor and those who dared to come within a ten-foot radius of him. Why bother coming at all, Minerva wondered, if he is so determined to be miserable?

But then again, you seem pretty determined yourself, Minerva added mentally with a small smirk. With a sigh, she tipped back her head and emptied her glass of gillywater into her mouth.

“Professor McGonagall, surely you don’t have intentions to get drunk, do you?” a voice came from her right. Minerva placed down the glass, her mouth and throat burning slightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended, as she turned to face her newest colleague, Remus Lupin.  His eyes, though tired and surrounded by more lines than he deserved, sparkled mischievously at her. He seemed unmoved by her harsh tones, and indeed seemed to take them as an open invitation to take the seat next to her.

It had been a great surprise to Minerva when Dumbledore had announced he was hiring Remus Lupin as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. But, truthfully, the more she thought about it, the more she agreed that Dumbledore had, indeed, made a wise decision. The last two years had seen, as Snape would call them, ‘dunderheads’ trying to fill the position, and it would certainly be a nice change to have a professor who actually had knowledge about the subject teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

However, there was the undeniably fact that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. Minerva had suspected it many years ago, when she was a seventh year and he was a fourth year, and later when she left and became the Transfiguration professor in his sixth year. She had been somewhat friendly with Lily Evans, and wherever Lily Evans was, James Potter and his gang could not be far behind. And Minerva had watched, and listened, and paid attention when they had thought she wasn’t, and she had figured out that there was something wrong with Remus Lupin, something that he was desperately ashamed of. However, whatever it was seemed to be a big game to Potter, Black, and Pettigrew.

She began noticing how he disappeared once a month, always on the full moon. However, even upon joining the Hogwarts staff she was not told what exactly was wrong with Remus Lupin, and hadn’t felt it was her place, as such a new professor, to ask. And so she had simply wondered. Wondered what had put such a haunted look in his eyes, one that never seemed to completely vanish, despite the fact that more often than not she would see him laughing and joking with his group of friends.

And now she knew.

“Would miss like another drink?” Minerva started as a house-elf peered up at her, his eyes wide and expectant.

Minerva threw a slight glare in Remus’ direction, who was giving her a knowing smirk, and said loudly, “No, thank you.”

The house-elf looked slightly disappointed at Minerva’s refusal, and disappeared with a loud crack.

“You should have accepted his offer,” Remus said matter-of-factly, reaching over and taking a roll off of Minerva’s almost untouched dinner plate.  “I daresay it would have made his night.”

“Excuse me, but I believe that is mine,” Minerva said indignantly. She couldn’t remember Remus being so brash before—oh, he was mischievous, but more likely to be quiet around those that he did not know well. Apparently years of travel after the war had changed him more than she had expected. Whether or not it was for the better remained to be seen.

“Well, you certainly weren’t eating it,” Remus pointed out, taking a large bite of the roll. “Hmm. No, no one makes food as good as the elves at Hogwarts do. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Is that all you’re looking forward to this upcoming year? Food?” Minerva asked, incredulous.

“Of course not!” he replied, taking another bite. “You put words in my mouth, my dear Professor. I simply stated that the food in Hogwarts is superior to anywhere else in the world.” He gave her a grin. “And so is the company.”

Minerva snorted. “Certainly you aren’t referring to me?”

“I most certainly am,” Remus replied cheerfully with a brisk nod. “Of course, this does not pertain only to you, I rather missed old Sevvie Snape, as well—I wonder if he’ll still hex me in the hallways between classes?”

Minerva gave him a horrified look. “That’s horrible!”

“No more than I deserved, I think,” Remus replied. “After all, you know who my friends were.” As soon as the words had left his mouth, a dark look passed over his face. “Or who I thought my friends were,” he added, his voice quiet, and Minerva had the impression that he was more talking to himself than to her.

“Remus—“ Minerva started, unsure of what she could possibly say, but then Remus turned his head away from her, apparently searching for something.

“I wonder where that house-elf went. I could go for a drink, I think,” he said, his voice a bit stiffer than it was before.

“Sir is wanting a drink?” a voice squeaked as soon as Remus had spoken.

He glanced down at the beaming house-elf, this one presumably female due to the even higher pitch of the voice. “Oh. Yes, please. A double Firewhiskey, I think. Yes, I’m sure that would hit the spot,” he said, his confidence seeming to diminish with every passing second.

The house-elf bowed, and eyes sparkling happily, disappeared with a pop.

Minerva cleared her throat unsurely, glancing at Remus, who was obviously uncomfortable. The news of Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban had come as a shock to everyone, and Minerva could only imagine that it had hit Remus ten times as hard as anyone else in the Wizarding World.

I can’t even imagine knowing that one of your best friends—one you thought you knew more than anyone in the world—was responsible for the death of your two other best friends. Minerva thought, sympathy for him building, her annoyance at his antics earlier all but forgotten. And then to know that he escaped from Azkaban, when no one had ever done it before…

“I heard that you traveled, after the war,” Minerva said, wondering if she was treading on safe territory. “Where did you go?”

The house-elf had reappeared next to the table, and between many bows, gave Remus his drink before disappearing again. Remus tilted his head back, chugging the drink as though his life depended on it.

“Careful, you’ll make yourself ill,” Minerva said, her voice sharp.

He seemed to heed her words, for he placed the now half-empty glass down on the table with a small clink. “Anywhere and everywhere,” he said in reply to her previous question. “I stayed in France for a few months, working for the French Ministry, but I was let go with many other workers. After that I went to Italy, Germany, America…anywhere that I could find work.”

“I’m sure it was quite an adventure,” Minerva commented, raising an eyebrow.

Remus snorted, giving her a half-grin. “Of course it was. Living in foreign countries where you know no one and can’t learn the bloody language for anything was terribly exciting.”

“Of course,” Minerva replied, “but the opportunities must have been endless! The culture you must have encountered, the sights you must have seen! I’m rather envious of that,” she admitted to him.

Remus nodded. “Of course, it did have its perks. But England was always my home,” he told her, taking another sip of his drink. “I needed to come home.” A wistful look crossed over his face for a moment, and he seemed rather lost in thought once more. However, he gave himself a little shake and smiled over at her a moment later. “And you, Minerva? You can’t mean to tell me that such a cultured woman such as yourself never went out and saw what the world had to offer?”

Minerva glanced down at her plate, which Remus had been discreetly picking at while they were discussing. “Oh, during the summers I would go out to the countryside…sometimes I would travel to France for a few weeks, but I never really had time to travel.” She glanced at him over her spectacles. “After all, I’ve been teaching for a very long time.”

“You were so young,” he agreed. “How old were you when you came back? You couldn’t have been more than twenty.”

“Nineteen,” she corrected. “Dumbledore was in a rather tight spot and he offered me the job the year after I left school.”

“Do you ever regret taking the job so early? You must have missed out on so much,” Remus replied. A grin spread over his face. “You are likely the only student who was so eager to return to school so soon after leaving.”

“No,” Minerva said immediately. “Certainly, there have been things that I missed out on, but teaching is what I love to do. To see the children grow and become adults. To form the way that they think and the way that they view the world. It’s a wonderful thing…I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life,” she said firmly.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Forming the way they think? The way they view the world? Perhaps I’m not cut out for this job, after all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Minerva said primly. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Glad at least someone had confidence in my ability as an educator,” Remus commented, his eyes darting over towards Severus Snape sitting alone before moving back to Minerva. “But aren’t you afraid that I’m simply turn out a school full of troublemakers?”

Minerva snorted. “I’m sure whatever harm you do can be reversed by the rest of us,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “As long as you do some good as well, which is more than can be said for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers in the past.”

Remus placed his hand over his heart, a mock horrified look on his face. “No! You mean to tell me that you were not won over by the irresistible charms of one Gilderoy Lockhart?”

Minerva narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be foolish. An attractive face is worth nothing if it’s only a decoration for an empty head.” A smirk played over her face briefly. “I certainly hope that you weren’t won over by Lockhart’s—ah—‘irresistible charms’.”

Remus shook his head rapidly. “Oh, no, of course not. I’ve always been more fond of a challenge. Such as Severus over there,” he said, gesturing to the Potions Master. “He pretends to despise me, but inside his heart yearns for me.”

A small laugh escaped Minerva’s lips despite herself, and Remus grinned broadly. “Did you hear that? I made the formidable Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall laugh. Something I should get down in writing, certainly. No one would believe me, otherwise.”

“I was merely expressing my surprise that someone like you would be attracted to someone as—unique—as Severus. Although I must admit, his charming personality and stunning good looks have won over more than one heart in the past,” Minerva teased him lightly.

“Ahhh, I see,” Remus said with a nod. “Disappointing, then. Here I was thinking I had an ounce of wit.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble,” Minerva replied with a nod of her head.

“I suppose you’ll have to find some way to make it up to me,” Remus told her, a sly smile sliding over his features as he leaned over the table towards her.

“Cheeky.”

“Thank you. I try,” he answered cheerfully, taking a sip of his drink.

Minerva shook her head, half amused and half annoyed. “You are still every inch the troublemaker, Lupin.”

“Well, I would hope so,” Remus said, looking surprised. “Otherwise I would have wasted my entire Hogwarts career.”

“You—“ Minerva found herself cut off as a hand clapped down on her shoulder.

The hand, luckily, was attached to an arm, which was attached to Cornelius Fudge. “Minister Fudge,” Minerva said, her voice calm and cool.

“Professor McGonagall! It is simply a delight to see you here, my dear,” Fudge boomed, squeezing Minerva’s shoulder. “I trust you’re well?”

“Very well, thank you,” Minerva replied primly, her voice shifting into her most professional professor mode. “I would like to congratulate you, Minister, for your victory.”

“Ah yes…difficult one, this one was,” Fudge said with a solemn nod. Minerva shot a glare in Remus’ direction as he snorted slightly, and quickly shoveled a forkful of food into his mouth—haven completely taken over Minerva’s plate—to hide it.

“Of course,” Minerva replied smoothly.

“Rather a shame that Dumbledore wasn’t able to make it,” Fudge said, glancing around the room.

“Yes, I’m sure he had his reasons.” His excuses, Minerva corrected mentally.

“Of course, of course, I’m sure he’s rather busy up at the school, preparing for the new year.”

“As we all are, Minister,” Minerva said calmly, with a slight nod of her head.

In the background, the instruments struck up a slow mournful tone. Fudge nodded in approval, a smile spreading across his features.

“Ah, yes, this one is one of my favorites. Truly good music, before nonsense such as the Odd Sisters came about.”

“The Weird Sisters,” Remus piped up, but Fudge paid him no mind, instead extending a hand to Minerva.

“Come, Minerva, surely you’ll have a dance?”

Minerva made sure to carefully conceal the revulsion that she felt at the idea. “Well, er, Minister…” Surely she couldn’t just turn him down flat without a reason?

“Actually, Minister, I’m afraid that Minerva—“ the name felt a bit foreign on Remus’ tongue…he hadn’t called her Minerva since they had attended school together, “—already promised me a dance. In fact, that’s what I came over for.”

Fudge seemed to notice Remus for the first time since he had walked over, and an expression of surprise was written across his face. “I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced,” the Minister said, his voice a bit snide as he took in the worn state of Remus’ dress robes.

“But of course, how silly of me. I wouldn’t expect you to remember,” Remus said, his voice a bit stiff as he extended a hand. “Remus J. Lupin. I worked at the Ministry, in the department of Muggle Relations for six months, about three years ago.” Fudge looked blank, and Remus added, “I am the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.”

“Ah, yes. Nice to meet you,” Fudge said, nodded at Remus, not bothering to take his hand. “Mr….er…”

“Lupin,” Remus repeated, unphased.

“However, Remus is right, Minister—I did already promise him a dance,” Minerva chimed in. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“Oh, of course, my dear,” Fudge replied, turning back to Minerva and presenting Remus with the back of his head. “Perhaps later?”

“Perhaps,” Minerva replied stiffly. Fudge nodded in parting as Remus took Minerva’s hand and led her onto the dance floor.

“You seem to be running up a list of debts to me,” Remus teased her as he led her to an empty spot on the dance floor. “You’ll be hard-pressed this year to make sure we stay on equal terms.”

“You mean dancing with you isn’t repayment enough?” Minerva asked, raising an eyebrow as he slid his free arm around her waist, keeping her hand in his grip. Hesitantly, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Hrm. Perhaps to make up for destroying my illusion of myself as a witty man over dinner. But not for saving you from Fudge. Oh, no, that will take something bigger,” Remus replied, grinning at her as they stood in place.

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him. “Remus Lupin, do you even know how to dance?”

“I resent that remark, Minerva!” Remus exclaimed in mock hurt, trying out her name again. “Whatever put that ridiculous notion in your head?”

“Perhaps the fact that we have yet to begin dancing?” Minerva replied dryly.

Remus clucked his tongue as he led Minerva into a waltz. “Just as impatient as always.”

“I hardly call it impatient. It’s more of a desire to not be stared at by surrounding couples,” Minerva retorted, glancing up at him. She was a tall woman, but he still stood a good four inches above her. ‘

“Impatience, embarrassment, it’s really the same thing when you think about it,” Remus answered, cocking his head slightly to the right. Minerva raised an eyebrow at him, and he corrected himself. “All right, perhaps not exactly the same thing. But close enough that once you’ve had enough to drink it all seems the same.”

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him. “I told you that if you drank too much you’d make yourself mad.”

“Actually, ill is the term that I believe you used,” Remus offered her. “And if I remember correctly, you were the one who seemed determined to make yourself drunk when I came over to your table.”

“I was not determined to make myself drunk,” Minerva replied hotly as he twirled her around the floor. He was utterly maddening at times—he would be the death of her by the end of the year. The true problem, she admitted to herself, is that she could not easily top him in a battle of wits. He matched her, hit for hit. Usually Minerva won verbal arguments with ease, her logical and sniping responses leaving her opponents embarrassed and apologetic for not seeing it her way. Obviously Remus Lupin was not the same way. And with that realization came a grudging respect.

 

“Then I must commend your performance, because if you weren’t determined to make yourself drunk, you did an excellent job pretending so,” Remus replied lightly, smiling down at her.

“You are aware that you’re utterly infuriating?” Minerva asked, only half-kidding.

“It’s good to know that I’m not out of practice, then,” Remus answered as the music stopped, and the couples stopped dancing.

After releasing her, Minerva watched as Remus glanced around the room before leaning down to murmur quietly to her, “What do you say we make our exit right about now? I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of stuffy Ministry balls when the night outside is so lovely.”

The corners of Minerva’s lips twitched upward. “You must have read my mind,” she answered calmly. Remus offered her his arm, which she took with a slight nod of her head before he led her out of the grand ballroom and into the main hall of the Ministry of Magic.

The hall was suspiciously silent for once, the clatter of hundreds of feet belonging to Ministry employees hurrying to work absent. Remus and Minerva’s footsteps echoed off the highly polished walls as Remus led her past the grotesque fountain of a wizard, a witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf in the middle of the hall.

Minerva snorted in disgust. “Really, they wonder why the goblins continue to revolt and the centaurs have a deep dislike for wizarding kind.” She placed her hand underneath the stream of water that was issuing from one of the house-elf’s ears. “Perhaps if we showed some respect in return…” She flicked the water off her hand as if it were something vile.

“Humans as a whole have a tendency to be notoriously arrogant,” Remus said quietly, staring at the fountain. His voice was still calm, but it held none of the playful teasing that had been present earlier in the evening. His eyes seemed darker, and there was an unreadable expression on his face, leaving Minerva with the feeling that she was intruding on a private moment.

Minerva cleared her throat uncertainly, and the sound seemed to bring Remus to his senses. He blinked suddenly, as though realizing that he was not alone, before tightening his grip on her arm and glancing at her. “Shall we go?”

“Yes, I think so,” Minerva replied with a nod. Remus, still somewhat in a daze, led her over to the phone booth that stood at the end of the hall. He opened it and released her arm, gesturing for her to enter first. After Remus has squeezed in with her and pulled the door close, the booth began ascending with a soft hiss.

“Won’t they wonder where we are?” Minerva pondered to herself. “Perhaps we should have said our good-nights.”

Remus shook his head in amusement. “Really, Minerva, you must learn not to care so much about the opinions of others,” he said, his voice light, but his words heavy on Minerva’s conscience.

She considered this for a moment. “Perhaps you’re right,” she finally admitted.

He nodded firmly. “I’ve had many years practice at being right.” She snorted in response to this, leaning against the glass of the phone booth and regarding him carefully. He really hadn’t changed in all those years. She remembered him well from her days as a Gryffindor prefect, and then as a young teacher—just as mischievous as James Potter and Sirius Black, but with a bit of lurking sadness about him. Quiet and thoughtful at times, loud and cheeky at others. And he was still the same—perhaps a bit grayer and a more worn for wear, but he was still the Remus Lupin that she had remembered.

“Somehow I doubt that,” she replied to his earlier comment, as the phone booth creaked to a stop in an alleyway located at the heart of Muggle London. Remus pushed open the door and squeezed out before Minerva stepped out as well, glancing up at the night sky.

The night was hot and sticky, with the promise of rain in the air, not unusual for England in August. The stars in the sky were almost unnoticeable, covered by a smog that was absent at Hogwarts. Through the smoggy air and the clouds, Minerva could make out the quarter moon, shining forbearingly down, as though to remind them that it was indeed there.

“I thought perhaps we could go back to my place for a cup of tea,” Remus offered. “I’m just about all packed up, but I’m sure I could dig out a teapot and some cups without too much difficulty.”

“Is it far from here?” Minerva asked, glancing around the dirty alleyway.

Remus grinned at her, although there was a hint of embarrassment in his expression this time. “Not at all. We can walk from here.”

Minerva thought for a moment. “Tea would be nice,” she finally admitted. “As long as you don’t plan on spiking it.”

Remus laughed, the expression of embarrassment clearing. “Don’t worry, I daresay we’ve both had enough to drink tonight,” he told her with the air of one confiding a deep secret.

Minerva raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ve had your fill. I’m Scottish. I can hold my alcohol.”

“I’m sure you can,” he said with a nod of his head, an amused expression on his face. She sniffed disdainfully as he led her down a series of small streets, the flats there small and run-down.

“Here we are,” Remus said eventually, stopping in front of a flat no different from the rest. It was a rather unattractive shade of gray, the paint on the front of the door peeling slightly. Minerva’s heart gave a small pang at the idea of Remus living in such harsh conditions—surely he didn’t deserve to suffer for something he could not control? But no, he would not want her pity and she would not give it.

He fumbled through the pockets of his robes for a few moments, a frown of concentration creasing his face. “Blast, I’m sure I put it…” he trailed off as he withdrew a small pewter key. “Ah, there we go.” He fit it in the lock and opened the door, gesturing for Minerva to go in first.

The inside was not much better than the outside—there was a small stove and a sink in one corner of the room, a table that could not have fit more than three people around it, and a tattered armchair. To her left a hallway led presumably to the bathroom and bedroom.

Three boxes and an empty aquarium sat in the middle of the room, and he opened one, reaching in and pulling out a teapot and two teacups. “My apologies for the mess,” he told her. “I’m afraid I’m all packed up for moving to Hogwarts.”

“Of course,” Minerva said smoothly, taking a seat at one of the three wooden chairs that circled the table as Remus moved to the sink and stove, filling the teapot with water and placing it on the stove. While he did so, Minerva glanced around the cramped living quarters. “How long have you lived here?” she questioned quietly. She couldn’t imagine living in such dreary surroundings for an extended period of time.

“Not long,” Remus replied, forced lightness in his voice. “A month or two, perhaps. I had lived here only about two weeks when I received Dumbledore’s letter.” A pause. “I considered for awhile whether or not it would be wise to take the position, but I am in debt to Dumbledore and couldn’t refuse him.” He turned back to her with the teapot and a box of teabags. “And the advance he sent me on my salary didn’t hurt either.” There was a bit of bitter humor in his voice, and Minerva noted how in the dim light of his flat, he looked even more ill than he had before. The grey hairs that mixed with the light brown seemed highlighted under the lamp, and the lines on his young face seemed more pronounced. He looks…tired, Minerva thought sadly.

She was brought out of her thoughts by the soft clink of Remus setting the teacups on the table, pouring the steaming water from the teapot into them and placing the teabags in them. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything nicer,” Remus told her, sounding truly apologetic, “but I…was all packed up to leave for Hogwarts, you understand.” She knew that ‘I couldn’t afford anything else’ was on the edge of his tongue, but pride had caused him to bite it back, and she felt a mixture of admiration and annoyance for this man who was so obviously in need of the position Dumbledore had offered her.

“It’s fine,” Minerva answered, watching the tea seep from the bag. “When can we expect you at Hogwarts?”

“I’ll be coming up on the Hogwarts Express—blast, my apologies, I don’t have any sugar or milk left—on the first of September, with the students.”

“I take my tea black anyway,” Minerva lied. There was no need to make him feel more uncomfortable than he already did.

“Oh. Good then,” he replied, taking a seat across from her and taking a sip out of his cup, making a slight face. “Disgusting, really.”

Politely, Minerva took a small sip of her own tea, and found that Remus was correct. “It isn’t so bad,” she lied again, forcing down a swallow. 

Remus let out a snort of laughter. “Minerva, didn’t you just agree with me little more than half an hour ago that you shouldn’t care so much about the opinion of others?”

“Yes,” Minerva replied warily.

“Well,” he answered, standing up and moving to the sink, dumping the contents of his cup out, “that includes me, as well.” He flashed her a genuine smile—he had smiled a lot this evening, but few of them had been honest smiles. “Really, I know the tea is horrible, saying so won’t offend me.”

Minerva felt her face flush in embarrassment, having been caught in her deception. He managed to so easily make her feel guilty, for something as simple as not insulting his tea. “I’ve had worse,” she insisted. As though to prove her point, she took another sip of her tea.

Remus considered this for a moment, and finally nodded. “Perhaps you have, but I certainly haven’t,” he admitted after a moment. “That tea is horrible.”

“Where was your favorite place to live?” Minerva asked quickly, feeling a change of subject was in order.

A thoughtful expression passed over Remus’ face, and as he sat back down he replied, “France, I think. I lived in Larrau…it was a small town in the mountains of Pays Basque. Very beautiful,” he told her. “And not expensive to rent a small home there, either. I lived there for three months. The only problem was the language barrier.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m afraid that despite all the traveling I’ve done, I haven’t picked up much of any foreign language.”

Minerva gave him a thin smile. “It seems we’re very different in that respect. I’ve always loved learning different languages, but I haven’t had a chance to travel much. I have been to France, though, on trips to the Wizarding School there—Beauxbatons—for meetings with the Headmistress there, Madame Maxime.”

“You’re fluent in French, then?” he asked. She nodded in response. “Shame then. I could have brought you with me,” he told her with a wink. “I’m sure it would have been an even more pleasing experience if you had been there.”

“You’re being cheeky again.”

“My apologies,” Remus said, holding his hands up in surrender. “You see, I’m afraid it’s been a long time since I’ve had tea with a beautiful woman.” Minerva snorted in response.

“Well, I’m terribly afraid to keep you waiting with the former,” she told him.

Remus looked confused for a moment, and then his expression cleared. “Really, Minerva, you must have more confidence in yourself.” He placed his elbows on the table and leaned over towards her. “I, for one, find you remarkably attractive.”

“I think I’ve visited Larrau before,” Minerva said, changing the subject once more, uncomfortable with the current one.  “When I was younger. It is a very lovely place, but the dialect is odd—being separated from the mainstream French culture.”

“Yes, it was, a bit,” Remus replied, a curious note in his voice. He considered her carefully for a long moment. Minerva glanced down, almost defiantly, and could feel his eyes still on her. Then she heard him abruptly get up, and a hand reach down for her teacup.

“I’ll presume that you don’t have any more intent to finish this than I did?” Remus asked her, his voice more serious than before.

Minerva glanced up at him, and was startled to find him rather close to her, his face perhaps only six inches away from hers. She stared at him, surprised, for a moment, before she managed to say, “No.”

He straightened back up, taking her cup over to the sink and emptying it. “It will be good not to have to worry about little things like dishes and laundry once I get to Hogwarts,” Remus said as he rinsed out the two cups. “I’m afraid that even after all these years, I’m still a lazy bachelor at heart.”

“I would have figured as much,” Minerva replied, folding her arms across her chest as the conversation again shifted. “Did you need anything?”  When Remus grinned at her, she narrowed her eyes, and amended, “I meant help with packing or the like. Before you leave for Hogwarts.”

“Ah, that. No, I think that I’ll be fine,” he replied, tucking the cups away in the box he had removed them from. “I’ll be glad to leave this place,” he told her, looking disdainfully around the flat. “Hogwarts was really my home…I’ve never found another place that I was as happy in as I was at Hogwarts.” A sort of wistful look had entered his eyes, and he seemed lost in his own thoughts of days long ago. Feeling as though she were intruding on a personal moment, Minerva stood up.

“I think perhaps I should return to the castle,” she told him. “I still have quite a bit of work to do for the upcoming year.”

“Work?” Remus questioned blandly. “But the year hasn’t begun yet!”

Minerva glanced at him over the top of her spectacles. “But there are lesson plans to put in order, plans for the upcoming year to be made.”

“Ah. Lesson plans. Of course,” Remus replied, avoiding her eye.

Minerva snorted as Remus led her to the door. “And I think perhaps you should start on yours—wouldn’t you say so, Professor Lupin?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about,” Remus replied airily. “I’ve been ready for weeks! I’m simply surprised that you, Professor McGonagall, are still working.”

“Ah, of course, how silly of me to have thought otherwise,” Minerva replied sarcastically as they reached the door.

“I’ll see you in a few weeks, then, Minerva,” Remus said warmly as she opened the door. Minerva allowed him to kiss her chastely on the cheek.

“And I expect you to be fully prepared by then!” he mock-scolded her as she left the flat. She let out a small laugh as she descended the porch, aware that he was watching her from the doorway until she Apparated away.

She found herself out the gates of Hogwarts a moment later, and she pulled open the iron gates with some difficulty—it was rather hard for one person to pull them open on their own. Vaguely she wondered if anyone else from the staff had left the ball yet—a glance at her watch told her that it was still fairly early.

The night was quiet as she made her way up the path to the castle and up the stone stairs, opening the main door and stepping into the entrance hall. The castle itself was strangely silent, and Minerva found herself reminded of why she disliked the summer holidays. It was simply too quiet for her liking.

Her footsteps echoed loudly on the stairs as she made her way up the entrance hall stairs, up onto the second floor, past her office and classroom, which were for private reasons detached from her rooms.

During the summer holidays, she preferred to do her work in her rooms, where she could properly relax and concentrate, separated from what little activity was going on in the castle. She hadn’t been lying to Remus when she said she had lesson plans to work on—if she hadn’t, she likely would have stayed a bit later, but she truly did want to get those papers out of the way.

Besides, she thought with a wry grin, it’s best if he begin on his own.

As she made her way up to the third floor, she passed Professor Dumbledore on the stairs. “Hello, Minerva,” he greeted her warmly. “I trust you had a good time at the ball?”

“It was…an interesting night,” she told him, slipping into professional mode. It was hard to be anything but when Dumbledore was around.

His eyes twinkled at her as a small smile played across his lips. “I’m glad, then,” he told her.

She nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, Albus, I’d like to get some work done.”

“Of course, my dear, of course,” he replied, gesturing for her to pass him. With a final nod and a murmured goodnight, she left him for her rooms.

She could hear him chuckling to himself as she left.                                                                                                                 

                                                

Chapter 2 will hopefully be finished soon. It’s midterm time, so don’t expect anything too soon, but I’m hoping to have some time to work in the not-too-distant future.

Reviews, as always, are appreciated.

Juno