Right Kind of Wrong
Title: Right Kind of Wrong
Previous Parts: Chapter One
Warning: AU. Remus is older than the other three Marauders, and did not go to Hogwarts.
Right Kind of Wrong
Chapter 2
“Any word yet on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?” Sirius asked at lunch on Wednesday. He had just come down from the dorm, having slept through his free morning, to meet James and Peter who had just come from Divination.
“No one’s seen him yet,” Peter replied promptly, piling his plate with food and digging in heartily.
“It’s a ‘he’ though?”
“Tha’s wha’ I ‘eard,” the mousy boy responded, spraying bits of food everywhere.
“I heard he’s still in France,” James remarked.
“What’s he doing in France?” Sirius wanted to know.
“Working. Living. Turning little old ladies into newts. How should I know?”
“Just wondering. Is he French, then?”
James shrugged in response, biting into his sandwich.
“You were in France all summer, weren’t you, Sirius?” Peter inquired, mouth empty for a rare moment.
“Paris,” Sirius affirmed.
“You haven’t said anything about it,” Peter pointed out.
Sirius shrugged. He hadn’t said anything to anyone, even James. He wasn’t sure he was going to, either. His time with Remus was special, and he felt a strange desire for it to stay private.
“How was it?” James asked, looking up expectantly.
“Hot,” Sirius replied neutrally, then smiled, remembering.
“What’s the smirk for?”
Sirius quickly arranged his face into a blank expression. “No smirk.”
“Yes smirk! What’d you do in Paris?” James demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Who’d you do in Paris?”
“James!”
“You met a girl?” Peter glanced up from his meal, looking interested.
“No.”
“Who is she?”
“There is no girl, Peter!”
“No girl?” James inquired.
“No girl.” Sirius repeated, comfortable in the knowledge that he was telling the truth.
James quirked one eyebrow, giving Sirius a suspiciously significant look. “I see.”
Shit. Sirius felt his face heat up. How could I forget that James knows I don’t like girls? “We should get to class,” he said abruptly, and stood, suddenly no longer interested in his lunch.
James smirked knowingly, but followed suit, beckoning for Peter to come along.
Halfway to the classroom, Peter stopped.
James, already at the top of a flight of steps with Sirius, realized his shadow wasn’t keeping up. He turned, and saw the smaller boy rummaging in his bag halfway down the stairs. “What’s up, Pete?”
“I haven’t got my textbook,” Peter sounded half-panicked. “I had it in when we left Divination, and I haven’t got it anymore.”
Sirius groaned.
“You must have left it at lunch,” James told his anxious friend. “We’d better go back for it.”
“Go back for it?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.
“He can’t very well go to the first lesson of the year without his book,” James pointed out.
“I suppose,” Sirius agreed resignedly.
Peter shuffled back and forth from foot to foot, plainly wanting to go fetch his abandoned text, but unwilling to go on his own.
“Let’s go then,” James decided, heading back down the stairs. “We don’t want to be late for class with an unknown teacher.”
“It should be under my seat,” Peter said, sounding relieved, as the three boys headed back towards the Great Hall. “I put it there with my bag.”
But the textbook was not under Peter’s seat, nor anywhere to be seen in the by-now nearly empty Great Hall.
“I know I brought it down!” Peter almost wailed, searching in vain through his bag yet again as they trekked once more toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, walking swiftly to beat the bell.
“Looking for this?” a sneering voice asked from a side passage just behind the three friends.
The Gryffindors all whirled around, coming face to face with several Slytherins in their year and the year below.
Severus Snape stepped forward, holding up the missing book.
“That’s mine!” Peter squeaked angrily.
“Really, Pettigrew?” Snape’s voice dripped sarcasm. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“We don’t have time for you, Snivellus,” James snapped. “Give him the book.”
“I think I’ll keep it. It’s not like your little lackey needs it. He gets all the answers from others.”
“Give him the book, Snivellus,” Sirius snarled, stepping forward aggressively, James not even half a step behind him, “and you won’t get too badly hurt.”
Snape didn’t move, merely sneered. “I’m trembling.”
Sirius and James drew their wands at the same moment.
A split second later, the four Slytherins had drawn their wands as well.
“Stupefy!” shouted one of the Slytherins.
“Protego!” James cried at the same time, and the first hex rebounded off of James’s shield to hit its originator squarely between the eyes, knocking the Slytherin to the floor.
The Head Boy sent a scarlet beam at Snape, singing the greasy boy’s hair.
Snape shrieked, dropping the book, and responded, grazing Sirius’s sleeve.
Sirius, about to retaliate, heard the tell-tale shuffle-run of the caretaker approaching from down the side passage. “Filch!” he yelled.
Instantly, the Slytherins grabbed their unconscious comrade, and fled.
James snatched the book from the floor where Snape had dropped it, shoved it into Peter’s arms, and the three boys took off down the corridor at a run.
“Slimy gits,” Sirius muttered through his teeth, breathing hard.
“I - think - we’ve - lost - him,” Peter panted, several paces behind the taller boys.
“Save your breath,” James gritted. “We’re late.”
Peter groaned, but did as he was told, struggling to keep up with his athletic friends.
The bell signaling the start of class rang, echoing off the stone walls of the castle.
They pounded towards their classroom, running full out, using all the secret passageways they knew.
Sirius skidded around the final corner, followed closely by James and Peter. He wrenched the classroom door open, panting, an apology for the new teacher fully prepared, but as his gaze fell on the man standing at the front of the classroom, the words died on his lips.
Slight build, brown hair glinting gold and red in the early afternoon light flooding through the window…
It can’t be.
The professor turned at the sound of the door, and his eyes widened in recognition.
Grey locked with amber and the rest of the world vanished.
It is.
TBC
Previous Parts: Chapter One
Warning: AU. Remus is older than the other three Marauders, and did not go to Hogwarts.
Right Kind of Wrong
Chapter 2
“Any word yet on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?” Sirius asked at lunch on Wednesday. He had just come down from the dorm, having slept through his free morning, to meet James and Peter who had just come from Divination.
“No one’s seen him yet,” Peter replied promptly, piling his plate with food and digging in heartily.
“It’s a ‘he’ though?”
“Tha’s wha’ I ‘eard,” the mousy boy responded, spraying bits of food everywhere.
“I heard he’s still in France,” James remarked.
“What’s he doing in France?” Sirius wanted to know.
“Working. Living. Turning little old ladies into newts. How should I know?”
“Just wondering. Is he French, then?”
James shrugged in response, biting into his sandwich.
“You were in France all summer, weren’t you, Sirius?” Peter inquired, mouth empty for a rare moment.
“Paris,” Sirius affirmed.
“You haven’t said anything about it,” Peter pointed out.
Sirius shrugged. He hadn’t said anything to anyone, even James. He wasn’t sure he was going to, either. His time with Remus was special, and he felt a strange desire for it to stay private.
“How was it?” James asked, looking up expectantly.
“Hot,” Sirius replied neutrally, then smiled, remembering.
“What’s the smirk for?”
Sirius quickly arranged his face into a blank expression. “No smirk.”
“Yes smirk! What’d you do in Paris?” James demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Who’d you do in Paris?”
“James!”
“You met a girl?” Peter glanced up from his meal, looking interested.
“No.”
“Who is she?”
“There is no girl, Peter!”
“No girl?” James inquired.
“No girl.” Sirius repeated, comfortable in the knowledge that he was telling the truth.
James quirked one eyebrow, giving Sirius a suspiciously significant look. “I see.”
Shit. Sirius felt his face heat up. How could I forget that James knows I don’t like girls? “We should get to class,” he said abruptly, and stood, suddenly no longer interested in his lunch.
James smirked knowingly, but followed suit, beckoning for Peter to come along.
Halfway to the classroom, Peter stopped.
James, already at the top of a flight of steps with Sirius, realized his shadow wasn’t keeping up. He turned, and saw the smaller boy rummaging in his bag halfway down the stairs. “What’s up, Pete?”
“I haven’t got my textbook,” Peter sounded half-panicked. “I had it in when we left Divination, and I haven’t got it anymore.”
Sirius groaned.
“You must have left it at lunch,” James told his anxious friend. “We’d better go back for it.”
“Go back for it?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.
“He can’t very well go to the first lesson of the year without his book,” James pointed out.
“I suppose,” Sirius agreed resignedly.
Peter shuffled back and forth from foot to foot, plainly wanting to go fetch his abandoned text, but unwilling to go on his own.
“Let’s go then,” James decided, heading back down the stairs. “We don’t want to be late for class with an unknown teacher.”
“It should be under my seat,” Peter said, sounding relieved, as the three boys headed back towards the Great Hall. “I put it there with my bag.”
But the textbook was not under Peter’s seat, nor anywhere to be seen in the by-now nearly empty Great Hall.
“I know I brought it down!” Peter almost wailed, searching in vain through his bag yet again as they trekked once more toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, walking swiftly to beat the bell.
“Looking for this?” a sneering voice asked from a side passage just behind the three friends.
The Gryffindors all whirled around, coming face to face with several Slytherins in their year and the year below.
Severus Snape stepped forward, holding up the missing book.
“That’s mine!” Peter squeaked angrily.
“Really, Pettigrew?” Snape’s voice dripped sarcasm. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“We don’t have time for you, Snivellus,” James snapped. “Give him the book.”
“I think I’ll keep it. It’s not like your little lackey needs it. He gets all the answers from others.”
“Give him the book, Snivellus,” Sirius snarled, stepping forward aggressively, James not even half a step behind him, “and you won’t get too badly hurt.”
Snape didn’t move, merely sneered. “I’m trembling.”
Sirius and James drew their wands at the same moment.
A split second later, the four Slytherins had drawn their wands as well.
“Stupefy!” shouted one of the Slytherins.
“Protego!” James cried at the same time, and the first hex rebounded off of James’s shield to hit its originator squarely between the eyes, knocking the Slytherin to the floor.
The Head Boy sent a scarlet beam at Snape, singing the greasy boy’s hair.
Snape shrieked, dropping the book, and responded, grazing Sirius’s sleeve.
Sirius, about to retaliate, heard the tell-tale shuffle-run of the caretaker approaching from down the side passage. “Filch!” he yelled.
Instantly, the Slytherins grabbed their unconscious comrade, and fled.
James snatched the book from the floor where Snape had dropped it, shoved it into Peter’s arms, and the three boys took off down the corridor at a run.
“Slimy gits,” Sirius muttered through his teeth, breathing hard.
“I - think - we’ve - lost - him,” Peter panted, several paces behind the taller boys.
“Save your breath,” James gritted. “We’re late.”
Peter groaned, but did as he was told, struggling to keep up with his athletic friends.
The bell signaling the start of class rang, echoing off the stone walls of the castle.
They pounded towards their classroom, running full out, using all the secret passageways they knew.
Sirius skidded around the final corner, followed closely by James and Peter. He wrenched the classroom door open, panting, an apology for the new teacher fully prepared, but as his gaze fell on the man standing at the front of the classroom, the words died on his lips.
Slight build, brown hair glinting gold and red in the early afternoon light flooding through the window…
It can’t be.
The professor turned at the sound of the door, and his eyes widened in recognition.
Grey locked with amber and the rest of the world vanished.
It is.
TBC