a story rec, with a blurb here
You guys should all go on over to the Werewolf Registry and read this great Remus fic, here's the link and a sample that had me splitting my sides laughing! Read all the way to the punch line, you won't regret it!
http://www.werewolfregistry.net/stories/viewstory.php?sid=196&i=1
The Defence Against the Dark Arts office had changed very little in the two years since Remus had last seen it. He deposited his briefcase on the familiar desk with a grin, removing several books and slotting them easily back onto the shelves they had previously inhabited. With a matter of a few minutes work, it was as though he’d never been forced to leave in the first place and more importantly, it felt right. This was the place he was supposed to be. It was where he belonged.
It was a good feeling.
The house-elves had successfully wiped out all but a minor trace of the room’s previous occupant. The pink, perfumed doily he uncovered in one of the desk drawers was mildly alarming, but a quick flick of the wand banished it safely into the fireplace where it curled up and burned quite satisfactorily. Remus couldn’t help but feel slightly offended by it, however. If that Umbridge woman was so determined to make his life as miserable as she possibly could, the least she could do was muster the dignity to have taste.
It was in the midst of trying to recall exactly how his Grindylow tank was supposed to reassemble that he sensed, rather than saw the looming presence in the doorway. A quick glance at his crisp, fresh copy of the Marauder’s Map, unfolded neatly on the desk confirmed his suspicion. They had successfully managed to avoid each other the evening before and yet again this morning, but it seemed that his now no-longer-former colleague had decided to get the worst out of the way before the children came.
“Severus.” He did not bother to turn around. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The Potion Master’s voice drifted smoothly across the office. “The Headmaster wished me to inform all the staff that the Hogwarts Express is now underway. All professors are expected to be ready and waiting in the Great Hall ten minutes before the students arrive.”
Remus finally glanced up at the black robed figure lurking in his doorway and smiled. “That’s useful to know. Thank you Severus.”
Snape’s nose crinkled in distaste as he swallowed the brief gratitude of a man he despised, his black eyes gleaming with dislike as he stared. Remus, still puzzling his way through the Grindylow tank managed to endure the scrutiny of the Head of Slytherin for a good thirty seconds before it finally became a little too distracting.
Depositing the sheet of magically reinforced glass on his desk, he met the dark gaze squarely and cheerfully. “Was there something else?”
Snape straightened himself, his eyes flashing. “I suppose you’re feeling very pleased with yourself.”
Remus blinked. “Pardon?”
“Worming your way back in here. Pity is one way to find employment, but it isn’t one I’d use. Not that I need to.”
Just as he’d expected, Severus was here to vent. Jolly good; it was just like old times. He was feeling more at home already.
He maintained the smile deliberately. “I didn’t worm my way in anywhere. Albus all but ordered me to come back and I wasn’t going to argue with him.”
“But you were so horrified when he did, I suppose.”
“I’m not sorry to be back, if that’s what you mean.” Remus turned away to hide the fading of his smile, depositing his mug and teakettle on the shelf behind his desk. “But my reasons for resigning stand.”
“And yet you are back here.”
Remus shrugged, his back still turned. “Albus said the school needed a good Defence teacher, especially this year. He told me there was no one else to ask.”
The vast and stony silence behind him told him eloquently that this had not been the right thing to say.
“And I suppose you will expect me to continue to brew your potion for you? Given your own ineptitude?” The Potions Master all but spat the words at the werewolf’s back.
Touché. “I would not expect anything, Severus.” It was time to turn round again, to face the suppressed maelstrom of emotion cloaked in black robes that lingered in his office doorway as though loathe to venture into the coveted territory of an enemy.
“But I would appreciate it.”
“Keep your gratitude, Lupin,” Snape sneered at him with dignified poise. “I neither want nor desire it. I know what you are and now so do the students. I’ll be watching you and so will they.”
Remus met his gaze once more, firm and direct. “I know.”
Snape’s dark eyes held his colleagues’ stare for an instant longer. Then with a disdainful huff, he turned and swept into the corridor.
Remus stared for a moment at the empty doorway. Severus Snape, as charming as ever. Well, that went as well as could be expected.
He could only hope the students would be a little more understanding.
In five hours, he’d find out.
* * *
Remus had forgotten just how noisy a hoard of children could be in the echoing halls of Hogwarts. For a moment he paused at the head of the stairs that descended down into the Entrance Hall, his slight lateness in spite of the earlier reminder allowing him to take in the mass of robed figures sweeping in chatting groups through the main doors and into the Great Hall. It was more than two years now since he had seen such a sight and almost half of these children had never known him as a teacher, only as that werewolf that they had made such a fuss about in the newspaper. Snape’s words rang uncomfortably in his head. Would they be nervous of him? Would they give him a chance to prove that he was just as human as they were?
Oh well. Now or never.
He started down the stairs.
There was a distinct hush. A mass of eyes turned.
The reactions were mixed. He was flattered to note that many of the older children were beaming at the sight of him; he spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione smiling together near the main entrance, Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley grinning arm in arm, and Neville Longbottom, who offered a small wave and a shy smile. Some, mostly Muggle-borns who had probably not witnessed the battle in the Prophet over his reappointment, seemed surprised to see him but there was pleasure too.
But the joy was anything but universal; many of the children, even some of those he had taught, seemed wary and others, most of them Slytherins, regarded him with the same outright hostility as their Head of House. Of the younger children, many of those who did not know who he was appeared confused, but those who did looked nervous.
Remus sighed. It was going to be a long year.
He started across the Entrance Hall. The volume began to rise once more.
But not enough. Not enough to cover the sound of the drawling voice that echoed loudly and sharply in his wake.
“Oh, look. The werewolf’s back.”
The confused faces very abruptly joined the ranks of the nervous. The nervous had shifted towards downright terror.
Remus sighed again. First Snape. Now Malfoy. Oh joy.
“Dumbledore must really be scraping the barrel. What’s the matter - did they run out of human candidates?”
Ah, Draco Malfoy. Subtle as a Hungarian Horntail and with almost as much charm. Remus was fairly sure he could tell where this desperate display of assertiveness was stemming from. Malfoy’s precious father Lucius, his backup in times of crisis, was now sequestered in Azkaban; taking pot-shots at one of the people who had placed him there seemed to be his way of trying to claw back some kind of superiority. But Remus knew this game. If there was one thing that Malfoy could not abide, it was being ignored. And if you gave him enough rope, he usually managed to hang himself.
He kept walking.
“Don’t want to answer that one do you?” Malfoy’s voice had risen in pitch. “Or maybe you don’t understand what I’m saying at all? Perhaps I should be speaking to you in your own language.”
A mockery of a howl chased through the air, whooping and echoing across the Entrance Hall to skim past Remus. He stopped. Slowly, he turned to look back over his shoulder.
Malfoy was standing in the centre of the chamber, shadowed by Crabbe and Goyle, his hands on his hips as he grinned triumphantly at his teacher.
Remus simply smiled.
“Well, Mr Malfoy,” he said, his voice soft but carrying decisively across the now silent room. “If you wanted to tell me that your mother stole your underpants and the weasels are coming, you could have just done it in English.”
There was a moment of awestruck silence. And then the hall erupted.
Biting back a grin, Remus ducked his head and continued nonchalantly through the doors into the Great Hall, the vast swell of laughter bouncing from the walls behind him. It was good to be back.
http://www.werewolfregistry.net/stories/viewstory.php?sid=196&i=1
The Defence Against the Dark Arts office had changed very little in the two years since Remus had last seen it. He deposited his briefcase on the familiar desk with a grin, removing several books and slotting them easily back onto the shelves they had previously inhabited. With a matter of a few minutes work, it was as though he’d never been forced to leave in the first place and more importantly, it felt right. This was the place he was supposed to be. It was where he belonged.
It was a good feeling.
The house-elves had successfully wiped out all but a minor trace of the room’s previous occupant. The pink, perfumed doily he uncovered in one of the desk drawers was mildly alarming, but a quick flick of the wand banished it safely into the fireplace where it curled up and burned quite satisfactorily. Remus couldn’t help but feel slightly offended by it, however. If that Umbridge woman was so determined to make his life as miserable as she possibly could, the least she could do was muster the dignity to have taste.
It was in the midst of trying to recall exactly how his Grindylow tank was supposed to reassemble that he sensed, rather than saw the looming presence in the doorway. A quick glance at his crisp, fresh copy of the Marauder’s Map, unfolded neatly on the desk confirmed his suspicion. They had successfully managed to avoid each other the evening before and yet again this morning, but it seemed that his now no-longer-former colleague had decided to get the worst out of the way before the children came.
“Severus.” He did not bother to turn around. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The Potion Master’s voice drifted smoothly across the office. “The Headmaster wished me to inform all the staff that the Hogwarts Express is now underway. All professors are expected to be ready and waiting in the Great Hall ten minutes before the students arrive.”
Remus finally glanced up at the black robed figure lurking in his doorway and smiled. “That’s useful to know. Thank you Severus.”
Snape’s nose crinkled in distaste as he swallowed the brief gratitude of a man he despised, his black eyes gleaming with dislike as he stared. Remus, still puzzling his way through the Grindylow tank managed to endure the scrutiny of the Head of Slytherin for a good thirty seconds before it finally became a little too distracting.
Depositing the sheet of magically reinforced glass on his desk, he met the dark gaze squarely and cheerfully. “Was there something else?”
Snape straightened himself, his eyes flashing. “I suppose you’re feeling very pleased with yourself.”
Remus blinked. “Pardon?”
“Worming your way back in here. Pity is one way to find employment, but it isn’t one I’d use. Not that I need to.”
Just as he’d expected, Severus was here to vent. Jolly good; it was just like old times. He was feeling more at home already.
He maintained the smile deliberately. “I didn’t worm my way in anywhere. Albus all but ordered me to come back and I wasn’t going to argue with him.”
“But you were so horrified when he did, I suppose.”
“I’m not sorry to be back, if that’s what you mean.” Remus turned away to hide the fading of his smile, depositing his mug and teakettle on the shelf behind his desk. “But my reasons for resigning stand.”
“And yet you are back here.”
Remus shrugged, his back still turned. “Albus said the school needed a good Defence teacher, especially this year. He told me there was no one else to ask.”
The vast and stony silence behind him told him eloquently that this had not been the right thing to say.
“And I suppose you will expect me to continue to brew your potion for you? Given your own ineptitude?” The Potions Master all but spat the words at the werewolf’s back.
Touché. “I would not expect anything, Severus.” It was time to turn round again, to face the suppressed maelstrom of emotion cloaked in black robes that lingered in his office doorway as though loathe to venture into the coveted territory of an enemy.
“But I would appreciate it.”
“Keep your gratitude, Lupin,” Snape sneered at him with dignified poise. “I neither want nor desire it. I know what you are and now so do the students. I’ll be watching you and so will they.”
Remus met his gaze once more, firm and direct. “I know.”
Snape’s dark eyes held his colleagues’ stare for an instant longer. Then with a disdainful huff, he turned and swept into the corridor.
Remus stared for a moment at the empty doorway. Severus Snape, as charming as ever. Well, that went as well as could be expected.
He could only hope the students would be a little more understanding.
In five hours, he’d find out.
* * *
Remus had forgotten just how noisy a hoard of children could be in the echoing halls of Hogwarts. For a moment he paused at the head of the stairs that descended down into the Entrance Hall, his slight lateness in spite of the earlier reminder allowing him to take in the mass of robed figures sweeping in chatting groups through the main doors and into the Great Hall. It was more than two years now since he had seen such a sight and almost half of these children had never known him as a teacher, only as that werewolf that they had made such a fuss about in the newspaper. Snape’s words rang uncomfortably in his head. Would they be nervous of him? Would they give him a chance to prove that he was just as human as they were?
Oh well. Now or never.
He started down the stairs.
There was a distinct hush. A mass of eyes turned.
The reactions were mixed. He was flattered to note that many of the older children were beaming at the sight of him; he spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione smiling together near the main entrance, Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley grinning arm in arm, and Neville Longbottom, who offered a small wave and a shy smile. Some, mostly Muggle-borns who had probably not witnessed the battle in the Prophet over his reappointment, seemed surprised to see him but there was pleasure too.
But the joy was anything but universal; many of the children, even some of those he had taught, seemed wary and others, most of them Slytherins, regarded him with the same outright hostility as their Head of House. Of the younger children, many of those who did not know who he was appeared confused, but those who did looked nervous.
Remus sighed. It was going to be a long year.
He started across the Entrance Hall. The volume began to rise once more.
But not enough. Not enough to cover the sound of the drawling voice that echoed loudly and sharply in his wake.
“Oh, look. The werewolf’s back.”
The confused faces very abruptly joined the ranks of the nervous. The nervous had shifted towards downright terror.
Remus sighed again. First Snape. Now Malfoy. Oh joy.
“Dumbledore must really be scraping the barrel. What’s the matter - did they run out of human candidates?”
Ah, Draco Malfoy. Subtle as a Hungarian Horntail and with almost as much charm. Remus was fairly sure he could tell where this desperate display of assertiveness was stemming from. Malfoy’s precious father Lucius, his backup in times of crisis, was now sequestered in Azkaban; taking pot-shots at one of the people who had placed him there seemed to be his way of trying to claw back some kind of superiority. But Remus knew this game. If there was one thing that Malfoy could not abide, it was being ignored. And if you gave him enough rope, he usually managed to hang himself.
He kept walking.
“Don’t want to answer that one do you?” Malfoy’s voice had risen in pitch. “Or maybe you don’t understand what I’m saying at all? Perhaps I should be speaking to you in your own language.”
A mockery of a howl chased through the air, whooping and echoing across the Entrance Hall to skim past Remus. He stopped. Slowly, he turned to look back over his shoulder.
Malfoy was standing in the centre of the chamber, shadowed by Crabbe and Goyle, his hands on his hips as he grinned triumphantly at his teacher.
Remus simply smiled.
“Well, Mr Malfoy,” he said, his voice soft but carrying decisively across the now silent room. “If you wanted to tell me that your mother stole your underpants and the weasels are coming, you could have just done it in English.”
There was a moment of awestruck silence. And then the hall erupted.
Biting back a grin, Remus ducked his head and continued nonchalantly through the doors into the Great Hall, the vast swell of laughter bouncing from the walls behind him. It was good to be back.