Plans and Patience

I did a bit of shopping on the way back to Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Black saw the bags and asked what I was up to. I told her it was none of her business. I heard her yell, “Mudblood!” as I shut the door to my room.

I ate dinner that night, took a long bath, conditioned my hair, painted my nails, and went to bed early.

The next day I awoke full of anticipation for the evening ahead.

Dinner was quiet for the Burrow; the once full house, brimming with noise, now seemed dark and gloomy. Molly was still the same—fussing about, saying how nice it was to have company, and how I should stop by for tea and biscuits anytime. I only half-heard her monologue; I was concentrating on Lupin.

He must not have been living with the werewolves; his clothing was older, as expected, but not tattered, and he was clean-shaven. I can still remember his gold-flecked eyes as he smiled across the table at me.

I steered the conversation towards Order members and casually brought up Snape in my query of those I hadn’t seen since the war. Lupin’s eyes widened slightly, and his gaze shifted down to the table. It wasn’t difficult to discern that Lupin knew something; I just needed to find a way to coax it out of him.

Some people do fine all by themselves, but I knew Lupin was not one of those people. He had felt ostracized almost his entire life; he craved human acceptance and contact, and I was aware that he was lonely without Tonks in his life anymore.

I let Lupin’s deception regarding Snape go for the time being, but I didn’t forget. As Molly and Arthur went into the kitchen, I told Lupin that I knew how he felt, trying not to sound too hollow. He looked at me, unshed tears glazing his eyes. I reached across the table and took his hand, waiting for him to speak.

He just said, “I miss her.”

I nodded my head in what he thought was accord. I suggested that if he wanted to talk about it, he could come by Grimmauld Place. He said there were too many memories there.

Bloody sap!

I reminded Lupin that there were good memories there as well.

“Surely you don’t want to bury all your memories.”

Then I brought up the one person he couldn’t deny.

“Harry would have wanted you to feel as if Grimmauld Place was a refuge, and he would have wanted us to keep in touch. Besides, you were friends with Sirius, and one of our DADA teachers, maybe you can help me make sense of the Black library.”

I thought that sounded like my old self. I also thought that he could help me get my revenge on Snape.

~*~

I had laid the foundation; now, I just had to lie in wait. And wait I did. I hate depending on other people; I would just rather do things myself.

Mrs. Black knew something was different as I made sure I was presentable for company before retreating to the library each day. Also, despite my past aversion to using house-elves, I had Kreacher remind me when it was six o’clock, so I might eat a little something—although I did prepare the food myself. Even though I inherited Kreacher from Harry, I did not trust him anymore than Harry did.

My waiting finally paid off. Lupin called around teatime one day. I was a bit surprised to hear the doorbell and Mrs. Black’s agonizing screeching. Long before, the Order members had stopped ringing the bell in hopes of avoiding disturbing the aged portrait. I supposed since this was no longer headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, Lupin felt the need to announce himself properly at the front door.

I greeted him wearing my claret robe; it brings out the gold flecks in my eyes. It is also the color of blood, and this was, after all, about Snape’s blood.

Lupin held a tartan tin in his hands. I wondered if he had been in contact with Minerva, or if all Gryffindors were habitually drawn to the plaid-wrapped containers.

We exchanged pleasantries as I led him to the kitchen and made tea. I endured the small talk, chanting various thoughts about Snape in my head, trying to keep a pleasant look on my face.

Setting down his empty teacup, Lupin said something—the word "leave” caught my attention. He stood to go. I quickly brought up the Black library.

"Maybe another time,“ he said, smiling.

I walked him to the door.

As I said goodbye, I dared to kiss him on the cheek. I wondered how many more afternoons I would have to spend like this before something came of them. Mrs. Black cackled at me as I closed the door.

"I see what you are up to now. Consorting with werewolves… half-breeds… blood traitors.” Her voice was high-pitched and rising.

"I think he knows where Snape is,” I said, walking past her.

~*~

Lupin began making regular visits around teatime, but he always had some excuse to leave before dinner.

I began letting my kisses linger longer and closer to his mouth.

I needed to get past the small talk and find out what he had been up to since the battle.

One evening, after one of our non-productive chats, I realized that the full moon was approaching. I had just a few days to try to get information from him about Snape before he disappeared for a week. I remembered something about roast being one of his favorite meals. I could have used Molly’s help, but I didn’t want any outside interference; namely, Molly’s way of butting in. Besides, a roast cooks by itself and a salad is easy to make.

About thirty minutes before teatime, I put the roast in the oven. During tea, the aroma of meat began to fill the kitchen. I explained to Lupin that I couldn’t possibly make a dent in the roast by myself and invited him to stay. I served wine with dinner, sipping mine slowly as I refilled Lupin’s glass. I steered the conversation to certain tomes in the Black library: Imperceptible Potions, thinking how I might be able to use Snape’s own talent against him, and Divination in the Dark—I was even willing to consider this detested art to find Snape.

I remembered a book called Mysterious Hexes, although I thought they could not be that mysterious if they were published. I wanted to question Lupin on his knowledge of creating your own spells since I knew that Snape had made up his own hexes and had written them in his copy of Advanced Potion Making.

Something else of Snape’s doing that had gotten Harry into trouble, I thought.

After dinner, I led Lupin up to the library and poured two glasses of brandy. I quickly found the books I had mentioned and sat on the couch next to him.

I let him hold the books as we looked through them, brushing my arm across his to point out a line of text, sometimes letting my hand touch his. When his gaze caught mine, I would lower my eyes and think of my hatred for Snape, which brought a nice pink to my cheeks, resembling a blush.

I purposely dropped a book, and of course, we both leaned down to retrieve it, our shoulders bumping and our hands entwining. I leaned in ever so slightly and parted my lips. Lupin’s eyes dilated as he gently placed his lips on mine.

His eyes closed.

I thought, He trusts me now.

I kissed him back. He was like a man struggling to breathe, drawing air from me, clinging to me in hope. I let him use me, as I was using him. The thought of letting one of Snape’s adversaries kiss me, touch me, thrust into me, gave me a pleasure that the act itself could not.

Lupin disappeared for only three days during the full moon, which led me to believe that he was acquiring and taking Wolfsbane Potion. I couldn’t help but wonder if Snape was making it for him.