Love Letters to You

When Dumbledore comes to him with an offer that is too good to be true, to be a professor when he is a werewolf, Remus refuses. 

It is a principle of things. 

Though it is a dream of his, one that Prongs, Wormtail and the Black traitor would support quietly, at 33, Remus Lupin has given up on meager dreams. 

How can he not when he alone survived the War? 

The world isn't so kind to werewolves, imagine allowing kids near him. 

The travesty. The horror. 

But Dumbledore doesn't let his rejection damper him. No, the Headmaster, who Remus will forever be grateful for, comes once or twice to the shack that Remus calls home for tea, dropping the offer a few times. Remus thinks himself stronger against that offer because he cannot endanger innocent children just so that he can live out a dream of a boy who thought the world a better place than it is. 

Dumbledore, however, for all his gentle twinkling eyes, does not play fair.

He only needs to mention Harry Potter's name in passing once or twice for the werewolf to fold like a card castle and accepts despite himself. 

"It will do you some good, my boy," Dumbledore smiles, a twinkle in his eyes that infuriates.

Remus sighs tiredly. "I am a werewolf, Headmaster," he reminds the older man with the shame and self-hatred that dwells within him since he understood what a werewolf is.  

Dumbledore waves a hand, as if it was insignificant. "Severus will prepare Wolfsbane at your convenience, and I believe that the Shrieking Shack still stands."

Simply mentioning the Shrieking Shack is enough for Remus's jaw to clench, trying to filter out barked laughter and sharing chocolate with his Pack. 

And then, he registers something else. 

Remus cannot help but widen his eyes in surprise and skepticism at the mention of his school enemy. More so his victim if one must be frank and honest, though Remus likes to tell himself he never partook at the crueler, physical pranks on the Slytherin. 

"Severus Snape?" he repeats slowly. The name sounds almost foreign to his mouth, the nickname Snivelus coming easily into the front of his mind. His face twists, something like regret and shame flickering on it. "I do not believe Snape would readily help a Marauder, Headmaster. Especially not me, not after our Fifth year."

"You will find that Severus has somewhat let go of past grudges," Dumbledore strokes the end of his silver beard in thought. "For some. Maybehaps, it depends on how you appeal to him." 

The werewolf can only hope so and trusts Dumbledore's words. Because surely Severus has grown as Remus has? 

Seen that the world does not care for the individual. 

A stray thought catches up to him, a name that Remus has only read in old letters written at the hand of now-dead friends and now has heard from Dumbledore's mouth.  

He nibbles on his cheek, iron in his mouth. "What about Harry?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkle. "He is well." 

Remus grimaces at that. He would rather know of his happiness yet doesn't dare to ask. It is an old wound that has yet to heal, not knowing James's precious son and Lily's darling. 

"He must be starting his Fourth Year," Remus muses. 

"Third Year, I'm afraid." Dumbledore gently corrects. "Time sometimes runs too slow." 

"Or too fast." 

Harry must be thirteen now. 

Does he play Quidditch like his father? 

Did he have James's mischief or perhaps Lily's charisma? 

Remus has endless questions, questions he cannot answer by his own fault though he likes to blame it on his affliction when the nightmares come to him and he thinks he hears Lily's accusing words for not raising her little boy. 

Oh, how Remus wants to. 

But he is pragmatic. 

There is no place for him at Harry's side. 

Because Remus is always too late. 

Remus doesn't think himself ready to face the past. 

There are too many ghosts, too many regrets for it not to be a gaping, raw wound. 

But when he sees another Potter fall in love, he is thrust right back into it. 

Remus meets Harry on the Hogwarts Express. 

His eyes are closed as he pretends to be still sleeping when the smell of treacle tart and something like home comes and tease him. 

A part of Remus, wilder and instinctual, immediately recognizes it for what it is.

Pup.  

Harry, the last of his Pack. 

There is a youngness to his voice, a quiet ease that speaks of friendship, Lily's mark.

An easy laugh that is Jame's alone. 

There are other voices too, other smells that remind him of simpler times and Hogwarts.  

In all, it is a peaceful ride and Remus shifts slightly in his seat, his wolf finally after so many years at ease around the pup. 

It is only when Dementors, wretched and foul creatures searching for a fouler criminal, drift in their compartment that Remus allows himself to wake up. 

"None of us are hiding Sirius Black," he tells the guardians of Azkaban, who failed to keep a traitor, a liar, from escaping. Only, the Dementors care not for his words and continue to glide closer, cold seeping into the air slowly.

Remus feels the despair slowly settle in, shaking hands with his self-loathing, memories of happier times greying and fraying in his mind. 

James

Lily -

Someone crumbles to the floor, a scream tearing from his throat and Remus snaps back to his senses, because it is his pup, his last link to his past, that is screaming and hurting when it should be Black's fate alone. 

Indignation bubbles within him as he roars "Expecto Patronum" and a wolf, majestic in a way that his own form stands no ground against, charges at the Dementors. 

"Harry!" a young girl with wild hair and wilder eyes shake the last Potter. 

Emerald eyes flicker open, and Remus cannot breathe. 

For a second, he only thinks of one thing. 

Lily. 

Because behind rounded, thin-framed glasses, it is Lily's eyes that look back, emerald and green and fierce. 

"What-" 

"Mate, you gave us a fright!" A redhead, one of Arthur's boys, Remus presumes, exclaims, hovering almost fretfully around Harry. 

"What happened?" Prongslet's voice is rough, cracking not from puberty but from yelling and another wave of hatred towards Black swells in Remus's chest. 

"Oh, it was just horrible!" the girl starts, hands straightening Harry's clothes almost unconsciously. "You fainted and just started screaming, and you wouldn't stop."

Harry groans. "I feel like shit." 

Remus swallows back a snort. That's Prongs and Black right there. "Dementors tend to do that to people," he says, voice so carefully neutral and steady it honestly impresses him. He takes his chocolate bar and breaks a few pieces from it, distributing them to the teenagers. "And chocolate is the best remedy." 

"It always is," responds the redhead, already munching with gusto. 

Harry and the girl look at their friend almost weirdly. "Honestly, Ronald. Ever heard of not accepting candies from strangers?" the bushy-haired Gryffindor from the looks of it sighs as Harry nods in agreement. 

Arthur's son colors. "Oh bugger off," he waves them away. "You said it yourself Hermione, he's a teacher, he's not going to poison us." 

"Better be safe than sorry, mate," Harry points out.

The redhead sighs. "Fine. Here, I'm not dead so you can eat it, Harry." 

And as Harry smiles, biting into the chocolate and his whole face lights up at the taste, Remus thinks that he will not regret his decision joining Hogwarts. 

That thought lasts about a few hours before it crashes around him never to be seen again as all good things tend to do around him. 

Because, as he sits on the High Table, Minerva on his right which galls him, Sirius Black's face looks up to him from the Green and Silver table. 

It must be the eyes, the hair that reminds him of the traitor so vividly he is already grabbing his wand as a curse forms itself on his lips. 

It is like he is back in the past, Death Eaters nipping at his heel and all he can think is to survive. 

Minerva grabs his hand before he can whip out his wand from his pocket. Her eyes are stern yet also pitying. 

From the side, Snape sneers. "Control yourself Lupin. We are among civilization here, mut." 

"Severus," chides Minerva as she carefully pockets Remus's wands and urges him to sit before a student notice. Though it seems to already be too late for students from Slytherin eye him distrustfully. 

"That's-" the air is cold, scorching his lungs raw and he thinks he tastes blood. 

"Elara Vespera Black," Minerva supplies. She seems oddly calm, almost impossibly fond but that is impossible because that girl is a Black. "Sirius Black's daughter." 

"He has a d-daughter?"

Another secret Black has kept from them. What else did he keep? 

Was everything really a lie? 

From the start? 

Since they were eleven?

Remus almost expects Snape to snipe an "unfortunately", but he remains silent and the werewolf cannot help but stare at his new colleague till he sneers right back. 

"Yes. When I first heard of a new Black Heiress, I had thought that it was Regulus Black's daughter." Minerva shakes her head, chasing away all thoughts of the traitor that wore gold and red. It must have been a shock to see that cursed face once again walk these halls like it is its right. 

"Regulus was dead by then." Snape rolls his eyes. 

James would have answered a "you would know all about it, wouldn't you Snivelus?" but Remus is not James and he bites his tongue. 

Grey meets ember. 

They narrow at him. 

Now that he knows what to expect, he can see the newest Black more clearly. 

Her face is aristocratic, angelic and softer whereas her traitor of a father was all sharpness. 

Her lips are fuller too. 

But apart from that, she is her father's daughter. 

Except she for one doesn't wear a mask. 

There is no fake cheer, no fake kindness as Black had done in their Hogwarts years. Her face is cold and the tension that bleeds from the Slytherin table tells him enough of the girl's influence. 

Her father had been able to do the same. 

When Sirius Black was angry, the entire table could feel it. 

Maybe it should have been a hint. 

That Black's blood will always be rotten. 

If only Remus had realized. He is the werewolf, of everyone, he should be able to sniff out lies, right? 

Why must it be Prongs to suffer the price? 

And poor Peter. 

Peter who for once tried to make his own justice but got slaughtered by their traitor of a friend. 

Minerva is quiet, a tad reproachful on his side as she tells him "Do not see her as Sirius Black's daughter, Remus. See her as any other student." 

But when she tilts her head the same way her father had, when she sits on the bench like it is her throne the same way Black had sprawled everywhere in the Gryffindor common room like he is the king, how can Remus not see her as what she is? 

Sirius Black's daughter. 

For a Marauder, it takes Remus an embarrassing amount of time for him to realize that history is repeating itself. 

They are at breakfast. Everything is calm, if a bit gloomy in the Gryffindor table as the red and gold students bitterly swallow their defeat at the hands of the badgers. 

There aren't many students, if any of the younger and senior years. 

Harry is back too, sitting with his friends and Quidditch team. His little pup is still a little pale, but from what Remus hears - lupine senses are stronger following a full moon and Remus fully takes advantage of it - it is more because of his broom's death than from his fall which is such a classic Potter move, Remus expects Fleamont to chuckle from his corner. 

Then, the Slytherins trickle in for their breakfast. At least, the Slytherin's Inner Court as Remus starts to understand. 

At their head is Elara Vespera Black and as soon as she nears the Gryffindor table, she growls something under her breath that Remus catches from his seat. 

"Potter-" she growls and Harry, precious Pronglset, perks up. 

Remus almost inhales his tea and has to politely cough under Minerva's amused stare. 

"Why Black, you look radiant in the morning," Harry greets loudly as he turns to face the Slytherin, Black's daughter. "You look like you haven't slept a second." 

A dark-skinned, handsome boy rolls his eyes from Elara Black's left. "Trust me, she didn't. We didn't." 

A blond boy, Lucius's son no doubt, he is just like his father, elbows him, and the other Slytherin, a Zabini probably, whines, rubbing at the spot.

"You arrogant, foolish boy, who in the world said it was a good idea to fly up to at least 100 meters above the ground during a thunderstorm?" Black continues, a hand to her hip. Even so obviously annoyed, Harry doesn't budge, if anything, he seems to lean closer to her. Just like another suicidal Potter Remus once knew. 

Something in his heart aches.  

"Let's see. Me." 

"Potter."

"Black."

"You are insufferable."

"Yet you love me anyway." 

Black turns away, ebony hair almost whipping Harry's amused, fond face. Remus can practically hear the eye roll as she says, "Can someone send him to the hospital again? Potter's being more idiotic than usual."

"That's because he didn't see you all weekend, Black." One of the Weasley twins exclaims, cupping his hands around his mouth so that everyone from Black's entourage can hear him clearly. 

"Shut up, Weasley."

"Shut up, Fred." 

There's more to the conversation, but Remus blinks, turns his attention away and looks at Minerva. She's watching the exchange with amusement, fondness, and sorrow. 

Remus exhales shakily. "These two, they're just like"

He can't bring himself to say it. 

He doesn't have to. Minerva finishes his sentence at his place. "-James and Lily."

"That can't be right." 

It is like the world tilts, the sun shines in the midnight sky, and the Slytherins are suddenly gentle and kind. 

It can't be right. 

Remus shakes his head and looks again. 

He still sees, hears Lily and James.

Their bicker. 

The dance they knew by heart but no one else could fathom or hear the melody of.  

Harry James Potter and Elara Vespera Black dance to it too. 

It would take a blind fool not to see it. 

And Remus, who had seen it years ago, unfortunately isn't a fool. 

He swallows, and it tastes of copper and anger. How dare the Blacks ruin everything? Never satisfied with the grief they create, they dare try and play with Harry. 

"They've been that way since their First Year." Minerva chuckles like it doesn't tear her heart to see another Black lie once more. 

"She's Sirius Black's daughter." 

There is understanding in his old teacher's eyes but she doesn't seem to get it. The reason why it infuriates Remus till he feels the anger that boils within along the snarl of his wolf. 

Minerva points a wrinkled finger at him, stern and his professor once more. "You listen, Remus John Lupin." She tilts her chin towards the students. "Potter and Black are good for each other. And -" she continues, unrelenting and not allowing Remus to place a single word in "she is not her father." 

"You don't know that." 

"All I know is that she is Elara Black. Not Sirius Black. And you should know it too. You've been in class with her"

Yes, and Remus, who lacks the strength to see his past mistakes look at him so arrogantly, seeing Sirius Black's face act like he should have always acted lest he mislead good people to Death's embrace, knows it too.

"Sirius Black killed the Potters" 

Minerva hardens at his words. "And it was a heartbreaking tragedy, but a child is not to blame for the sins of her father. Just like a child being bitten by a werewolf shouldn't be blamed for his changes. What did you and your friends call it?"

"A monthly furry problem" a smile twitches on Remus's lips. 

"A monthly furry problem," his old teacher repeats, smiling too. 

"Miss Black, your turn."

If Remus is a tad interested to know of Black's biggest fear, he is careful not to show it. 

But it seems she knows it regardless and the sneer she shoots at him is the same that her Aunt Bellatrix used to shoot at her father whenever the Marauders passed by her in the hallway. 

Black doesn't move from her spot, slightly leaning on a column, her cousin as usual by her side. 

Just like where James was, Black was there too. 

"No, thank you, professor." 

At least she pretends to be polite. 

Remus raises a brow. "You would refuse a class assignment?" he asks. 

"Considering its nature, yes." 

"And you believe you have that right."

"I have the right to excuse myself from psychological duress." Slytherins nods their heads at her words, ever the faithful followers. It had always been that way, where Blacks lead, Purebloods follow. 

How could they have been so blind?

"Bunch of cowards. What else can you expect from Slytherins," huffs another Gryffindor girl, empowered by the murmured agreements from other students. The word Slytherin on her tongue is like dirt on her shoes, and Black shoots her a glance. She then smiles, and Remus knows that it is trouble. He opens his mouth but before he can get a word in, Black waves her wand. A snake emerges, slithering towards the rapidly paling girl with bared fangs. 

"Catch," is all Black says before levitating the snake right into the Gryffindor who insulted the Green and Silver. She shrieks, the type of cry that comes from pure terror and pain and faints. 

Black makes the snake disappear. 

The entire classroom is silent, save from snickers that Slytherins easily quieten as the dark-haired girl glances at them. 

"See? Psychological duress," she shrugs with a smile like there is nothing wrong with what she has just done. 

"Fifty points from Slytherin," Remus snarls as he levitates the poor, unconscious girl. "For cruelty and endangerment of a fellow classmate." 

"Endangerment? She fainted!" protests Greengrass. 

"From pure terror," Remus retorts. 

"And that is what you were trying to expose us to as a teacher?" Black tuts, shaking her head as waves of ebony tumble on her shoulders. "For shame, professor." 

Remus grits his teeth, barking out a "take a five-minute break", pushing the door open with more force than necessary but Black's cruelty, her lack of care for everyone else makes it hard to breathe. 

As the door closes, he hears Harry, brave good Gryffindor confront the girl. 

"Really?" he asks, disappointment and something else heavy in his tone. 

"I was protecting the Slytherins." 

"By-?" 

And the door closes. 

With Potter and Black mere inches from each other. 

When Remus gets closer to Harry through Patronus lessons, it feels like everything is right in the world.

But of course, Remus cannot help but try to subtly drops hints as to Black's real nature. 

See her for who she really is, Harry, before she stabs you in the back and it is too late. 

Don't be like your father. 

But, like James who is so fiercly loyal to those he cares for, Harry doesn't want to listen, much less hear it from "a family friend who wasn't there for his entire life!" 

It hurts to see Prongslet take so much distance from him, but Remus' shame shrivels up in his throat and he cannot bear to take the first step towards reconciliation lest he ruins everything with Harry for good. 

Lily had a good, warm heart, but forgiveness wasn't easy for her. 

And then, Black of all people approaches him. 

"You don't like me," she tells him quite bluntly, with only Zabini at her side. "You seem to hate me, in fact, and I dislike you the same. But Potter for some reason likes you. He's like that sometimes you see, too much of a hero to not care for the poor, decrepit, werewolf teacher." 

The word werewolf makes Remus freeze. 

No

Please

not like that

Black smiles. It isn't a pretty one, not the ones that Harry would describe sometimes when he speaks of warmth and sunshine. "Imagine my surprise when I heard that the werewolf, all too happy to take the Boy who lived's time and energy, gives him an ultimatum. The Slythering or the werewolf." she tuts. "You were a Gryffindor, weren't you, professor? Only Gryffindors would say such things and then, hurt innocent people when things don't go their way. Well, I am quite done watching Potter sulk like someone killed his puppy. It's pathetic." 

Remus can only stare. 

That's all humanity can do, right? Before the brilliance of a star? 

"So, professor, here is my ultimatum. You either patch things up with Potter, throw some old stories from his parents' time too in your next little tea session, or my first declaration as the Lady of the House of Black is that Dumbledore, in his misguided ways, has hired a werewolf as a teacher."
Only a Black, as young as thirteen could wear cruelty so prettily. 

"Don't forget the discrimination," pipes in Zabini in a faux-whisper. 

"Ah, oui." Black says. "And that werewolf tried to force psychological torture on Pureblood heirs just because of our Houses. And when a brave Slytherin tries to show him the error of his ways, he takes 50, fifthy! points from her." She puts a hand to her chest as if shocked. 

Remus swallows thickly. "No need for the dramatics, Miss Black."

She interrupts him. "Oh, no, professor. The dramatics are the best part." 

"I see your point and admit I might have been a bit harsh on your class but-"

"It's fine, professor. It's that time of the month, we get it." Zabini grins like a Cheshire cat. 

The werewolf sighs, looking up at the ceiling, praying for patience. 

Is it karma for his Marauder's times? All the times he covered for the others as a prefect and took the role of trolling the teachers as seriously as he took his assignments? 

"I shall talk to M. Potter, if that'll be all."

"It is," Elara Black nods. She looks satisfied, walking away. 

Remus cannot help his next question. "Why go to this length?"

She turns around, her grey eyes, starlight held into two pearls, fierce. "Because bitterness doesn't suit Potter." 

Ah. 

It is funny how history likes to repeat itself. 

"James's someone who should always be smiling," Sirius says from his bed. 

"So you gave up your entire blackmail of Diggory for him not to go on that double date with Lily?" Remus is incredulous as Padfoot puffs out his chest. 

"That's what friends are for. And bitterness isn't a good color on Potter." 

He only prays for a different ending.