Epistulae Heroum

“I am scorched like wax torches dipped in sulphur,
like holy incense added to smoking pyres.
My sleepless eyes cling, always, to Aeneas:
I’ve Aeneas in my mind day and night.”

The Heroides - VII: Dido to Aeneas

Monday 2nd September, 1975

Monday was the only day in his week he had completely free apart from lessons. After Muggle Studies (yes, he did know he grew up in the muggle world. But, to the examiners, he was a half blood. Easy marks.), he spent a good few hours with Pandora, soaking up the last of the summer sun before September finally stole it. 

He hadn’t thought about the little note he had replied to in the bathroom since he had left it. Honestly, he had doubted anyone would even see it, let alone the original author. The ledge was too far up to be in view of someone who was not either sat on the tank of the toilet, like he had been doing, or was ridiculously tall. 

That’s why it’d completely surprised him when he went for his second cig of the day in the same stall (leave him alone, he couldn’t be arsed walking all the way to the courtyard again) before curfew and saw a third vat of black writing underneath his.

Shit. I’m embarrassed now. Sorry, stranger.

Remus choked on the smoke of his fag as a laugh forced its way from his lungs. The writing was, in fact, not messy at all. Just like he had suspected. It was a delicate cursive that Remus would’ve been surprised to see in a boys bathroom had he not been in a school full of rich gits. 

Once again, Remus drew his wand and, with a small grin, he wrote,

Don’t let it happen again. If you’re gonna piss off Filch, at least do it right.

He chuckled, stuffing his wand back into his pocket. 

*

Remus had done his absolute best to avoid entering his dormitory apart from to sleep his first few days. He never usually bothered; if his dorm-mates had anything to say, they’d usually give up once they realised Remus wasn’t going to give them a response. But, with the stress of a summer by himself, a newfound authority in his prefect-ness and the adjustment to the new schedule, he did not feel like dealing with them.

Before he entered, he strained his ears in case Barty and his minions had congregated. One of the many perks of being a werewolf.

“Carrow, d’you know where my soap is?”

”Why would I know?”

”I doubt Snape does.”

”Piss off, Crouch.”

”I’m trying to. But I’m not showering with one of your lots manky bars.”

“Try accio-ing it?”

”Accio. Ah! There we go. Thanks, Tony.”

Remus heard the sound of the bathroom door shutting and let out a sigh of relief. Score. Crouch was having a shower. That meant at least 25% less of a chance of being bugged.

He walked in and went straight to his wardrobe, pulling out his pyjamas and waiting… waiting…

”Who was it tonight, Loony?” Remus heard Tony speak up, “Reckon you’ve gone through so many girls you’ll have to start on your cousins. Wouldn’t put it past you.”

Remus furrowed his brow, turning around with his pyjamas and ignoring the sneering grin Dolohov was giving him. 

“Aren’t you lot all inbred?” Remus asked, unable to resist. Before any of them could respond, however, he climbed into his bed and wrenched the curtains tight shut. 

***

Tuesday 3rd September, 1975

Well, thank you very much for the advice, but I’m quite
an expert on pissing off Filch. 

Once again, after he had gone to sleep that night, he had forgotten completely about his bathroom pen-friend until his routinely fag break. He shook his head at the fact the mysterious boy seemed to keep coming back, but, then again, so did he.

Ah. Apologies. Didn’t realise I was speaking with a
professional.

Remus smirked to himself as he stubbed out the last of his cig at the end to create a large, blackened full-stop against the white tile, then threw the butt out the window. Thankfully, his next period was a free one with Pandora, to which he was planning the make the absolute most of.

*

”You know, I sort of missed this place.” Pandora said, looking around at the must and dirt with a fond smile. The shrieking shack was a place that, before third year, Remus had hated more than anything. Even Snape, he was pretty sure, and that was saying something. However, just after Easter of 1974, Pandora had insisted to be shown the place and soon made it a priority to turn it something sacred. 

So, they had been sneaking in there whenever they could since then to get up to whatever mischief (albeit, it was mainly studying) they could. Remus had to admit, it’d made the ten minute walk down the passageway on full moons a whole lot less agonising.

But that didn’t mean the place didn’t give him the heebie-jeebies.

“I’m just glad there’s nobody about to bother us.” Remus said, licking the skin of his joint and sealing it, “I swear, since I’ve been made prefect, people haven’t left me alone.”

Pandora let out a snicker, “That’s not because you’re a prefect, love.” 

Remus furrowed his brow in question, then stuck the joint between his teeth and pulled out his wand to light it.

”I heard Aurelia Greengrass and Rita Skeeter giggling about your arse in the back of Herbology earlier on.”

This caused Remus to begin to sorely hack up the attempted inhale. Pandora grinned as she shook her head and took the spliff to stop it falling from his fingers, taking a drag herself.

”What?!” Remus hissed, eyes wide and watering.

Pandora, the twat, expertly blew out a plume of ringed smoke, “Mhm! Even I have to admit, you have gotten quite that bit more attractive over the summer.”

Remus’ eyebrows practically hit his scalp, “But— No! That’s because everyone thinks I’m some sort of Casanova!”

”You truly are the most clueless lad I’ve ever met, Remus.” Pandora sighed through a giggle, passing him the joint. He took it, then inhaled a meaningful drag. Jesus Christ.

*

Remus found that, through the rest of his classes, he couldn’t sit still. This was partially due to the fact he was now very aware of when people were looking at him (which he definitely didn’t feel a little pride at) and because he was very eager to see what his bathroom correspondent had written back.

When he got to the boys bathroom, he peered in to see if maybe he could catch a glimpse of whoever had been writing. However, there wasn’t a single soul in there. Not even Peeves.

But, he wasn’t completely disappointed as, when he got into his favoured stall, he saw another little note crammed into what little space left.

Don’t worry your pretty little head.
We all make mistakes.

Remus found his cheeks heating up and he shook his head, sheepishly looking down as if the words had been spoken directly to him. Was this stranger flirting with him? Or was it just some ploy to fluster Remus. If it was, they were successful. Or he, Remus supposed. Hm. Perhaps that was a clue?

Now, the wizarding world was more accepting than the muggle world, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still prejudice. It wasn’t frowned upon to be gay, but it wasn’t really the best thing you could be. You see, in Pureblood families, everyone was expected to produce an heir. And homosexual relationships didn’t exactly have the facilities for that. 

The majority of people didn’t care who you got your rocks off with, it was more the ones that belonged to the sacred 28 or shared the pureblood supremacy beliefs. I.e. Slytherins. That was where Remus’ own problem came in. Even if he were to formally ‘come out’, it would just be giving the bigoted sods more ammunition. Plus, it would completely discredit his slag reputation.

So, that gave him the clue that whoever it was, was neither Slytherin nor pureblood. Though, the fact the stranger had written a muggle song in the first place gave that away. Remus hoped it was an attractive, queer boy his age? Oh, god. What if it’s a first year or something? Oh, Christ. 

No, no, no. It couldn’t have been a first year. First years shat themselves at the whiff of Filch, they definitely weren’t experts at miffing him. Second years weren’t too fond either. But him speaking to a third year didn’t exactly put his mind at ease. They couldn’t have been that young? They clearly came in here to take advantage of the easy smoking spot.

He was overthinking this. And overthinking was not something Remus Lupin did. 

Clearly. Or we wouldn’t have gotten into this
predicament in the first place, Ziggy.

It was a seriously tight fit to get the words on, the entire windowsill almost completely covered in black ink and Remus had to wipe off a bit of “NO RELIGION” to write it all. 

Like an idiot, he visited the bathroom unwarranted twice more before dinner (which was very unforgiving to his legs) to, obviously, find zero response. Remus didn’t know why he had grown so excited over his new ‘friend’. Perhaps it was just the change in routine. 

Either way, he had garnered a sort of obsession.

***

Wednesday 4th September, 1975

The next day, Remus woke up earlier than usual. Eager to get out of the Slytherin dormitories and into the fourth floor boys bathrooms. However, when he arrived, he felt his stomach drop as the tile had been wiped completely clean. 

“What the fuck?” He muttered to himself, climbing off the tank. Filch must’ve finally been in. 

It barely took Remus a few seconds to realise that, wedged between the wall and the tank, was a small piece of parchment. His brow furrowed and he reached forwards, plucking it from its jail and unfolding it.

Predicament? I’ve been quite enjoying this.

P.s. thought it might be more prudent to
talk this way. My poor quill has been fighting
against this windowsill.

Remus’ cheeks tightened with a smile and he bit down on his bottom lip. God, what was up with him?

He quickly pulled his wand from his robes and, on the other side of the parchment, he wrote, 

Alright. Maybe I have been enjoying it too.
I’ll remember to bring some parchment next
time.

*

”So you don’t know who he is?” 

“No.”

”And you don’t know what house he’s in?”

”Nope.”

“His age?”

Remus just shook his head.

”Something you’d like to share with the class, Miss Rosier? Mr Lupin?” They heard McGonagalls voice break through their little bubble of conversation.

Remus looked up, “No thank you, professor.” He said. A round of giggles went up in the class and McGonagall gave a slightly incredulous smirk. Remus had no idea why. He was just answering her question.

Apparently, Pandora had no idea either, as she just gave a shrug and subtly muttered “Muffliato.”

”What if it’s just Peeves?” Pandora questioned.

“I did think about that, but the handwriting’s far too neat.” Remus said, turning to look at McGonagall with his hand over his mouth so she couldn’t see it moving and believed he was paying attention.

“How neat?”

”Why does that matter?”

”Might help you figure out who it is.”

He shrugged, ”Like fairy-princess neat.”

Remus could hear the grin in Pandora’s tone, “A boy with fairy-princess neat handwriting?”

”Good point.” Remus said, “No straight lad would ever have writing that pretty.”

“Unless he’s pureblood.” Pandora pointed out, but then quickly added, “Hold on, why does it matter if he’s straight?”

”It doesn’t.” Remus said, dismissively, “And he’s not pureblood. I’m 90% sure he was flirting with me.”

“If he was flirting with you, it most certainly does matter!” Pandora hissed as though the muffling charm hadn’t been cast at all, “And, if he was, that doesn’t mean he’s not pureblood.”

”He’d have to be mad to be openly gay and pureblood.” 

“Maybe he’s one of the Prewett twins?” She offered, “The Prewett family isn’t that bothered about blood purity.”

”Now that’s just wishful thinking.”

*

As promised, Remus ripped off a small sheet from the three foot Charms essay parchment they had been set at the end of the day before he went back. Pandora insisted she wait outside, which Remus thought would’ve seemed suspicious on her part but wasn’t all that arsed.

Oh, I know you’re enjoying it. No matter
how much you insist on this ‘I’m too cool
to care about anything’ persona.

”Is he offended?” Pandora asked.

”No, definitely not.” Remus shook his head, knowing it was just their banter, “I think.”

”What’re you gonna write back?” 

“I don’t know!” Remus stressed, “That’s why I came out here. Also, I absolutely do not think I’m too cool to care about anything!” 

“Tell him that, then.” Pandora shrugged.

Remus nodded, “Right. Okay. Yeah.”

I don’t think I’m too cool to care about
anything.

I just find that most people in
this school are bellends so it’s easier to be
rude to them before they can be rude to
you.

“Perfect!” Pandora said, “Where do you leave it?”

”Behind the toilet.”

Her eyes narrowed at this, “Right.”

*

Remus’ mother always had a penchant for all things mythology. His name being an obvious example. “I think she manifested it, honestly.” Pandora had told said when he revealed his lycanthropy, given he was literally called ‘Wolf John Wolf’. She then cringed hard when Remus told the story of how Pandora curiously released Zeus’ shit into the world, leaving him feeling very smug. 

Remus had spent his entire childhood teaching himself, which now he realised was a little fucked up. But what part of him wasn’t? She used to teach him, his mum, but after a while she seemed to be less and less… enthusiastic. Remus found it much more efficient to just teach himself. One thing his mum had insisted on, however, was that he learn about mythology. 

His opinion of the subject was varied. Mostly, Remus found the stories a little depressing. He thought that the male characters held far too high opinions of themselves and he didn’t even want to talk about the depiction of women. 

But sometimes the stories weren’t all too bad. Baucis and Philemon: a kind elderly couple who offer hospitality to Jupiter and Mercury, the gods granted them a wish that, when they died, they’d grow into intertwining trees. Egeria and Numa Pompilius: Egeria helped the Roman king, Numa Pompilius, improve the city. It wasn’t the happiest story, but he found the fact Egeria cried so much at Numa Pompilius’ death that she turned into a water spring heartbreakingly beautiful. 

But, being in Slytherin, there was very little chance he ever had to read the stories that so often gave him that childhood comfort. He had no doubt that Dolohov or Crouch would have plenty to say about his ‘muggle bullshit’. And Remus certainly couldn’t read with his dorm mates whinging in his ear. So he, very often, would only read them after curfew. 

There had been many issues in the past that involved docking of house points and detentions, so Remus, in his second year, started to come up with a solution.

What if there was a map of the school that told you where both where every secret passageway and each person in the school was? 

It took him around a year to map the place and to find a charm that would allow him to do it. Remus had to comb the entire restricted section and even then only found a charm to track one person at a time. The Honculous charm. It took another bloody year of trial and error to modify the charm, but it actually proved to be quite a fun hobby. He had formally finished it just after he had realised he was gay. And, much to the dismay of Pandora, renamed it the ‘Homonculous’ charm.

However, Remus could never seem to figure out a fitting name for the map itself. He and Pandora usually just ended up referring to it as the first generic female name that came to mind out of spite of their useless brains.

’Where’s Cheryl?” Pandora would ask.

“My bedside drawer. I’ll get it later.” Remus would respond.

”Oh, sod off, I’ve been dealing with Barty every summer. I’ll get it myself.”

Now, he was using Paula to navigate a clear path to the fourth floor bathrooms again with the help of lumos and a pair of Pandora’s slippers he had engorgio’d to fit him (Pandora had been in possession of Carol at that time and couldn’t be arsed walking back to his dormitory to get his own, sue him).

It took a moment to actually find the note with his dim wand light in the pitch black, but he eventually managed. 

That’s surprisingly perceptive. 

Do you think I’m a bellend?

Remus smiled, which seemed to be a common theme with these notes. It felt sort of like a treasure hunt, even though there was no actual searching involved. Well, more of a mystery waiting to be solved.

I’m not that perceptive. I’d have to get
to know you first.

Do you think I’m a bellend?