Epistulae Heroum

“Hope too was long drawn out. We’re slow to believe what wounds
us, when we do:”

The Heroides - II: Phyllis to Demophoon

Fifth Year Muggle Studies (In Alphabetical Order)

Bertram Aubrey - Ravenclaw
Otto Bagman - Hufflepuff
Sirius Black - Gryffindor
Amelia Bones - Hufflepuff
Charity Burbage - Hufflepuff
Aimee Fernsworth - Hufflepuff
Davey Gudgeon - Gryffindor
Aidan Kirkhall - Ravenclaw
Gilderoy Lockhart - Ravenclaw
Remus Lupin - Slytherin
Marlene McKinnon - Gryffindor
Michael Newman - Hufflepuff
Elliot Pearson - Gryffindor
Peter Pettigrew - Gryffindor
James Potter - Gryffindor
Rita Skeeter - Slytherin
Emmeline Vance - Gryffindor

That was what Remus was working with.

The good news was that his class only held seventeen people given Muggle Studies was had been a pretty deserted subject ever since the war began and the Prophet started putting the fear of God into anyone who showed an interest in muggle culture. The bad news was that there were only six girls, leaving eleven boys. Minus Elliot Pearson and Peter Pettigrew because they were in Remus’ Care of Magical Creatures and Davey Gudeon because he was in his Divination (And minus himself, of course). 

That meant there were seven contenders. And Remus gathered as much information on each of them as he could.

Bertram Aubrey:

• Ravenclaw.
• Half-blood.
• Blonde, short hair, pale, blushed skin, relatively tall.
• Three years running Gobstone Club champion.
• Likes blood pops (disgusting).
• Not very bookish, despite being in Ravenclaw.

Otto Bagman:

• Hufflepuff.
• Half-blood.
• Blonde, mid length hair, broad shoulders, average height.
• Brother is Ludo Bagman, captain of Hufflepuff quidditch team.
• A bit of a suck up (especially in Muggle Studies).

Sirius Black:

• Gryffindor.
• Pureblood.
• Dark, long hair, strong features, very blue eyes.
• Black family heir (first to be in Gryffindor).
• Gryffindor beater.
• Thinks he’s God’s gift.

Aidan Kirkhall:

• Ravenclaw.
• Half-blood.
• Red, short, curly hair, gangly like Remus.
• Also chose Muggle Studies for the same reasons as Remus.
• Ravenclaw chaser.
• Thick head.

Gilderoy Lockhart:

• Ravenclaw.
• Half-blood.
• Ridiculous blonde hair, begrudgingly handsome.
• Ravenclaw seeker.
• Remus had to help clean up 800 valentines he sent himself on Valentine’s Day last year for one of his detentions.
• Enough said.

Michael Newman:

• Hufflepuff.
• Half-blood.
• Dark, short hair, deep skin, soft features and dimples, tall.
• Often shows up to Muggle Studies high. 
• Used to date Rita Skeeter (sheesh).
• Speaks both French and Hausa.

James Potter:

• Gryffindor.
• Pureblood.
• Messy, dark hair, tanned skin, glasses.
• Gryffindor quidditch captain and chaser.
• Aggressively cheerful and condescendingly cheeky.
• Also bilingual, speaking Hindi and Gujarati and rumoured to be learning Punjabi (swot). 

“Don’t you think this is a little invasive? If not creepy?” Pandora offered, gently as she looked over the various lists he had accumulated.

“No, creepy would be writing down what each of them smelled like.” Remus said, simply, before looking back down at the options.

”I reckon I just go down the list, getting to know things about each of them and ruling out my options.” Remus said, before spluttering out the feather of his quill. He kept habitually chewing on it. He needed to stop that.

”Why don’t you just ask them what their other electives are?” Pandora asked.

Remus immediately shook his head, “That would be far too obvious to whichever one of them actually is Padfoot.”

“Sorry, Padfoot?” Pandora immediately grinned.

”Well, he’s got to have a name. And Ziggy is already in use.” Remus said, “I reckon it can’t be one of the purebloods, right? They’d be idiots to be gay.”

”Yes, because being gay is a choice.” Pandora mused, sarcastically.

”Good point.” Remus muttered, “Right. We’ll count them in, but as a last resort.”

“Well, million galleon question.” Pandora leaned in, “Who d’you hope it is?”

Remus scowled at her, “I don’t hope.”

”Well, that’s certainly miserable. Care to share why?” 

“Honestly? It just sets you up to be let down.” Remus said, “What does it give you, anyway?”

”Comfort?”

”Well, that’s bollocks. It’s just gaslighting yourself into believing things will get better on their own. You’ve got to get up off your arse and do it yourself.”

”It’s times like these I support the sorting hat in its decision.” Pandora said.

***

Tuesday 10th September, 1975

When you die, are you going to come back as a ghost or pass into the afterlife?

That’s awfully morbid.

It’s a perfectly valid question.

Answer it.

Well, alright. I’m going to the afterlife, obviously.

Obviously?

Yeah. You’ve got to be a bit of an idiot to stay in this shit tip when there’s hope of something better.

Why?

I had to gauge if you were a bit of an idiot, obviously.

Cheeky.

So you think the same?

Of course. Wouldn’t want to stick around my family any longer than I have to.

Are they, aforementioned, bellends?

Yes.

Sorry, I’m laughing.

He’d have to file that away for later. Something told him now was too soon.

I wish I could hear it. 

You’re very sweet. Do you get told that often?

Everyday.

All the time.

In fact, it’s actually advised that no one with diabetes should come within a twenty metre radius of me.

But they still do because of my irresistible sweetness.

Do you also get told you’re a smart arse?

Me? Smart arse? Never.

I think we should circle back to the sounding derisive on paper argument.

Whatever you say, Padfoot.

Fucking hell. I forgot about that.

Did you? I didn’t. I have now told all of my diabetic friends that I’m interested in a boy whose name is Padfoot.

This isn’t the least bit fair.

And why is that?

Because the only nickname I’ve come up with for you is ‘stranger’.

That’s not true!

What about smart arse?

Har har.

And sweet.

I think that was more of an adjective?

And prat.

Wow.

Bellend.

That was more of an enquiry. 

Evil.

You deserved that one.

Oh, and we can’t forget ‘Mr ‘most people in this school are bellends so it’s easier to be rude to them before they can be rude to you’’.

Alright! Alright. I get it.

That last one might be a bit of a mouthful, though.

I’ll think on it.

*

First up on the list was Bertram Aubrey. Remus had only ever spoken to him once; Bertram had been friends with a girl he had been partnered with in History of Magic and had spent the entire lesson glaring at Remus like he’d just hexed his mother. Now, this could’ve been a clue to if Bertram was Padfoot, but bisexual people did exist.

He was reasonably attractive and a little shorter than Remus (then again, most people were shorter than Remus). He took advantage of what little knowledge of Bertram he had, and snuck down to Hogsmeade through the secret passageway before dinner to snag a couple of blood pops. Luckily, Remus had astronomy with the Ravenclaws at eleven tonight and Bertram was sure to be there.

So, when the time came (after a very strange look from Pandora), Remus bit the bullet and cringed as he unwrapped one of the blood pops and stuck it in his gob. 

It was absolutely delicious.

It had a familiar metallic taste that reminded him of those few experimental summer moons he had spent in the nearby forest, snacking on rabbits and deer. But with that perfect amount of underlying sweetness. Almost like a cup of tea, funnily enough. Oh, and there was so much of it! Remus wasn’t even sure he wanted to give the other to Betram.

“Merlin! Calm down.” Pandora hissed, yanking Remus’ forearm so the blood pop left his mouth, “That’s about the least conspicuous I’ve ever seen you.”

”They’re so good!” Remus gushed, wide eyed as he looked at Pandora.

”I’ll take your word for it.” She grimaced, just as Remus remembered his initial mission. 

He pulled out his second blood pop, first one clenched between his teeth, and waved it to Pandora, “Ayoo shore yodon wannit?”

”Positive, thanks.” Pandora said, shaking her head as she moved back to the telescope.

Remus grinned and took the pop out of his mouth, waving the other around, “Oh, if only there was someone besides me who liked blood pops in this class. I couldn’t possibly eat this on my own.” He rather aggressively side-eyed Bertram sitting next to him. The other boy was firmly focused on his star chart.

”Anyone?” Remus reiterated, looking around to see he had gotten a grand total of one persons attention, Professor Duncombe (who was eyeing Remus with something similar to concern).

Remus rolled his eyes and nudged Bertram, “Want this, mate?”

Bertram looked at him a bit wide-eyed, before looking down at the blood pop. Remus was reminded a little of the first years that passed him in the halls now he was a prefect.

”Uh—erm- yeah. Yeah, thanks.” Bertram nodded, hesitantly reaching out to grab the treat.

Christ. Either Padfoot was really good at putting on a front on paper or Bertram was not our guy. 

Remus was not one to give up, however!

“What?” Remus asked as Pandora turned to him with eyed wider than Bertrams had been. She bent down and pulled a small compact mirror from her satchel bag, flipping it open and turning it to him.

Remus let out a loud, barking laugh and quickly slapped his hand over his (currently dripping red) mouth. He looked like some sort of deranged vampire, ironically.

*

Found out today that I like blood pops, apparently.

That wasn’t too conspicuous, right? If this was Bertram, there’s no way he could guess Remus’ identity simply because they mentioned the same sweet in one day.

Well, that’s fucking disgusting.

Quickest potential Padfoot elimination of his life.

I thought so too. Must be my sweetness. I suppose there just isn’t a single thing with sugar in it I don’t like.

Apart from marzipan.

Fuck marzipan.

Strongly agree. My cousin used to only ever have marzipan at her birthday parties when she was little because she knew nobody else other than her liked it. 

She wasn’t even that big of a fan.

Jesus Christ.

What is she? A masochist?

More than likely.

I’ve got to say, so far your family sounds brilliant.

I’m sure they’d agree with you there.

Oh! I still need a nickname for you!

I’m pretty sure deciding my own nickname defeats the purpose.

Exactly. So I’m going to need some more information on you to create the perfect one.

Fair enough.

Ask away.

What do you do in your free time?

Well.

Read, mostly. Spend time with my best friend. Smoke? I’m not sure, really. I suppose I’m a bit boring.

Wow, you really are a swot.

Yes. We established that.

What about you?

Am I a swot?

No! Your free time. 

Ah.

Well, I play quidditch. I also indulge in spending time with friends too.

Oh, and I like to cause trouble from time to time.

That is decidedly less swotty.

I’ll give it to you.

Right. 

What is your favourite colour?

Brown.

…

Pardon?

You can’t put pardon to words on paper.

I bloody well can.

BROWN?!

Yes. And I don’t want to explain my reasoning in fear of being labelled a swot again.

I would not like that nickname to stick, thank you very much.

Right. 

But we will discuss this at a later date.

What was the name of your first pet?

These sound suspiciously like security verification questions.

What next? My mothers maiden name?

Yes. 

I butchered Bowie lyrics on the windowsill of the bathroom for the main purpose of grifting someone.

Fair play.

And I’ve never had a pet, actually.

I thought you said you had a dog.

Oh, shit.

Stranger?

Sorry. Dorm mate being a twat.

It was my grandma’s dog.

Ah, right.

What was it’s name, then?

Fuck.

Gordon.

…

Gordon?

Nana was a strange woman.

Right.

I’m having no luck, honestly.

Do your friends have any nicknames for you? Maybe I can steal those.

Not that I can think of.

Unless you count ‘Loony’. But it’s not really my mates that call me that.

Loony?

Like I said.

Dorm mate is a twat.

Or really all four of them are.

Well, that depends on how you interpret it.

Interpret it?

Yes!

Like, it doesn’t have to necessarily mean ‘lunatic’.

I’m not following.

I’ve got my nickname for you.

I don’t really think ‘Loony’ is a nice nickname?

Noooo!

Moony!

Still not following.

’La lune’ is ‘the moon’ in French. 

So…

Moony!

That’s… unsettlingly accurate.

It’s perfect.

Moony and Padfoot.

Moons and Pads.

Remus had to admit, it was rather adorable.

Alright.

I’ll allow it.

As if I wouldn’t just call you it anyway.

***

Wednesday 11th September, 1975

”So we’re positive it’s not Bertram?” Pandora asked. They had just sat through an excruciating charms lesson consisting only of theory that made Remus want to rip his eyelashes out and were now making their way to the dungeons.

”Pretty positive.” Remus responded, digging through his bag that was hanging haphazardly off his shoulder, “Plus, I asked around and apparently Bertram’s quite close to his family.”

”You… asked around about a complete strangers relationship with their family?” 

“Yep.” Remus said, simultaneously pulling out his list and quill, then perching his wand between his teeth as he unfolded it.

”You know, sometimes I think you’re too unbothered for your own good.” Pandora sighed as they approached the door to the common room, “Anguis fragilis.”

Under his breath, Remus muttered the pen-wand incantation and messily crossed out Bertram from the list, before sticking it back into his bag and practically breaking out at a run towards the boys dormitories.

”Where are you going?!” Pandora shouted after him, earning glares from the students sat about.

”To talk to you-know-who, obviously.” Remus called back as he stopped at the bottom of the stares, when the glares turned into looks of surprise he groaned out, “Oh, not that you-know-who! Swear to god, it’s like saying fucking ‘treat’ around a dog.”

Remus turned around and marched upstairs until he got to his dormitory, not bothering to listen in before out of pure excitement then flinging the door open and making a beeline for his bed. 

He vaguely acknowledged the presence of Barty and his cult, taking the book from the locked draw of his bedside table and sitting down onto his bed. A grin overcame his face as he saw the writing on the side already glowing.

Moony!!

Moooooony!

Moony, Moony, Moony!

Remus smiled, before picking up his pen from his bedside table too.

”Erm. Do you mind?”

Remus looked up to find Crouch and his mates looking at him incredulously, all four of them sat on Crouch and Dolohov’s beds. 

“No, not really.” Remus responded, looking back down at the book to write a response.

Padfoot?

You’re here!!

I am.

”Well, could you not mind somewhere else?” Remus looked up to see Black scowling at him. 

“Clearly, Reg, he’s too focused on his little diary to go somewhere else.” Barty grinned, almost maniacally. How Remus was expected to care that these absolute weirdo’s thought he was a weirdo was beyond him.

How was your day?

Slow.

OWLs are killing me.

Really? I thought you were supposed to be a swot.

When’s your first exam?

December. 

And swots aren’t born swots.

Remus had no time to see what Padfoot had responded as the book was ripped straight from his hands. Remus shot up almost immediately from where he was cross-legged on his bed, stumbling off and following Crouch as he snickered and waved it around.

”Let’s see what Loony Lupin writes about.” Crouch cooed, “Maybe it’s all the people he’s murdered?”

Oh, god. Please close it. Please close it.

Crouch ended up almost running headlong into the post of Carrows bed, which, forgivingly, caused the book to close as he steadied himself with a snicker. Remus let out a sigh of relief and relaxed.

”What does it say?” Rosier grinned from his spot on Barty’s bed.

Barty cocked a curious eyebrow as he opened the diary, but then held it up high as though reading some royal decree and cleared his throat, “Dear Diary, oh, how delicious Professor Sprout looked today! I wonder what her knickers smell like.”

The boys roared with laughter, apart from Black, of course, who was sat with an amused grin.

“Please tell me that’s what it actually says.” Dolohov wheezed as he came up for air.

Crouch just smirked, throwing the book to Evan, whose face twisted in confusion as he flicked through the pages.

”It’s blank?”

”What?” Dolohov piped up, ripping the book from his hands, “We saw him writing in it not two minutes ago!”

”It’s clearly got some sort of spell on it.” Black said, taking the book and glancing over it critically.

”Trust Loony to spoil our fun.” Crouch pouted, dramatically. 

Remus felt his stomach lurch as the words on the side began to glow in Regulus’ hands.

”What’s that?” Dolohov asked, pushing off his bed and walking over to Black.

Black looked at it curiously, turning it over in his careful hands. Then Remus cringed as he opened the first page.

For a moment, there was nothing. And Remus wondered if there was any writing at all. Black was just staring at the page. Then his face contorted into one immensely indecipherable. Remus almost wondered if it was recognition by the level of discomfort. 

“What? What is it?” Crouch asked, coming over to Regulus too. 

“Nothing.” Black said, pushing past him and handing the still open book out for Remus to take, “Still blank.”

Remus paused for a moment, the pair of them just looking at each other. And, for the first time in his life, Remus saw the point in hope. Because he really fucking hoped it didn’t say something that gave away his feelings towards Padfoot. Towards boys.

But when Remus took it and looked to see what Padfoot had written, he looked back at Black in confusion.

I suppose I should’ve guessed that.

I wasn’t born fabulous, after all.

It was perfectly normal statement. And Black clearly understood the books use. Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he make some comment about it being something weird and impossible to understand? Why was he looking at Remus like he knew exactly what the hell any of this shit meant?!

Remus just closed the book and left the dormitory, taking it with him.