Ginny arrived at Hogwarts just before sunset and headed straight for Lupin's office. "Professor?" she called as she tapped on the door. "It's Ginny."
For once Remus wasn't behind his desk. He was, instead, standing at his window and looking out over the grounds, and the shift in the color and quality of the light as it neared setting. "It's open," he called back to her.
Ginny entered, uttered a quiet "Good evening, Remus," and came to stand a little to his left. She gazed out upon the light for a moment, then reached out to stroke the windowframe like she was saying hello to an old friend.
She looked up at Remus's profile, etched dark against the fading sun. "I promise I'll take good care of her while you're away," she said with a little smile, reassuring and concerned.
Remus turned toward her and smiled, but there was something almost playfully inquisitive there. "Which she?" he asked. No, not almost playful, actually playful, if very carefully so.
He added, "Hello, Ginny," to the end.
"Our baby," Ginny replied seriously, but her eyes danced with amusement. She leaned her cheek against the windowframe and stretched an arm along the wall as if to hug the whole building. "Hogwarts."
Remus choked and made a soft sound at the back of his throat before he recovered enough to return the quip. "I knew I shouldn't have left my light saber lying around."
He reached out with one hand and touched the back of Ginny's neck, and timed the more physical cue with a verbal one. "Let's sit down. We should actually talk. Have you eaten?"
At his touch Ginny smiled, involuntarily; for an instant it almost looked like the instinctive show of teeth and release of breath that make up the dog equivalent of a friendly greeting.
"I had a late lunch," she said, and disengaged from the wall. "School's only out one week, and already I'm halfway to nocturnal. I could eat again, and probably should." She headed toward the couch, not too quickly, giving Remus the opportunity to herd her in another direction if he needed to.
Remus's eyebrow and the corner of his mouth both twitched up at the huff of breath and he shook his head just a little. "As long as you're sleeping some time."
He let her go to the couch while he went about bringing food that had been send up for them not long before over to the low table at the center of his seating area.
"I don't think you'll have any trouble here," he said, once he'd settled into a chair perpendicular to the sofa and Ginny. "But I appreciate you being here."
He looked up from preparing his food to Ginny, and went on in an apparently completely different direction. "You know Snape's going to be teaching Adrian's siblings for several weeks?"
"Ellie told me." Ginny picked up a roll and buttered it, a bit too vehemently. "Pucey and I had words. But, he has his reasons." She shrugged, took a bite of the roll, and slumped back against the couch.
"I got that impression from my conversation with him." He sounded, more than anything, amused. He wielded his fork and knife deftly to cut up his (cooked) steak, and took a moment to chew and swallow before he went continued. "How do you feel about his reasons?"
Ginny gave another little shrug. "My main objection -- besides the huge one I've already expressed to you -- is that in my experience Snape has always treated non-Slytherin students with contempt bordering on abuse. I'd rather not have any of my students subjected to that, in my classroom or anyone else's. But Pucey seems to think his siblings' skills and parentage will spare them the worst of it. I hope he's right, for their sakes."
"You just looked more concerned and defeated than annoyed," Remus explained his questioning. "I have no idea what to expect, but I don't think that they're going to be abused. Not while they're under Adrian's roof and if he can help it. "
Ginny leaned a little forward, resting her forearms against her knees, and looked at Remus curiously. "You two are close, yeah? Or at least... friendly."
"I've known Adrian and his family for a long time," he agreed. "And we usually get along fairly well, though there's obviously a lot we don't agree on. Why do you ask?"
"Because I trust your judgement. About people as well as situations." Ginny smiled, a little. "I know I'm not perfectly rational where some people are concerned. Someone mentions Snape to me, I immediately start checking my defences. But if it hasn't got your hackles up, it makes me think I could at least consider standing down."
"Being able to recognize your biases is." Important? Mature? Impressive. "A good thing," he settled on. "I don't know how much I trust Snape, beyond trusting him not to posion me," he admitted. "Adrian."
He stopped there for a bit and just ate. "I won't say I trust Adrian entirely, but I do trust that he would never do anything but his best for his siblings. Besides, being around Snape might just be a valuable lesson - and I don't mean in Defense."
"I somehow suspect you don't mean as an object lesson in the consequences of joining Club Evil, either," Ginny replied with a smirk. Her look of curiosity returned, though, and she gestured for him to continue his thought while she prepared a plate for herself.
"Actually, that's exactly what I meant," he said with his eyebrows up. "Why would you think I didn't?"
"Huh," said Ginny thoughtfully, and set her plate down. "I dunno, now that you mention it. I guess I think of Ellie and Charles as being too... Smart? Reasonable? ...to need that lesson spelled out for them. Because... I mean... evil." She arched her eyebrows and turned her palms up, as if nothing more needed to be said about that.
She stared pensively off into the distance between them for another long moment, though, and added, "But I suppose in the environment they grew up in, maybe those choices aren't so obvious as they always were to me."
"Ellie and Charles have to make a conscious decision in a way I don't think you ever had to, and they're in a more stable position to make those decisions than many of our students." He stopped talking to put his plate down and take a drink of his tea.
"They have to decide what will offer them the most and cost them the least - There's an element of good and evil involved, of course, and general selfishness and greed, but that's not entirely it. At least I don't think that's entirely it. I'm not exactly an expert on Wizarding Society."
"Neither is this filthy blood-traitor," said Ginny with a wry smile and a little wave. "Perhaps Hermione, bless her, can give us an update after her little excursion into it."
She tried to keep her tone light, but her smile looked a little desperate.
"I think Hermione is so concerned - and nervous - about her camp that she's not aware of the potential larger implications. Are you all right?" More blunt and direct than usual, but no less worried for that.
Ginny shook her head minutely. "I'm just worried for Hermione. Worried that she's going to worry herself to death, mostly, but also... about how she'll be treated. Even if they don't out-and-out harm her... I know what they can be like. And what kind of a crap friend am I that my first visceral reaction when I read what she's gotten sucked into was, 'better her than me'?" She dropped her gaze to her lap.
Remus smiled, faintly. "I don't think she's going to be attacked, but it is probably going to be uncomfortable," he admitted. "As for what kind of friend you are - would you have gone with her if she'd asked you to?"
Ginny kept her head lowered but looked at Remus through her eyelashes with a wry smile. "Point," she said. "And maybe that's it, I'd be fine as backup, but this is Hermione's baby, she's got to be the one to---"
She stopped abruptly and looked wide-eyed at Remus. "Merlin's beard -- the greater implications! I get it! Oh, Remus, I could kiss you!" She sat up suddenly straighter, hands clasped in front of her mouth, and beamed. "Have you told Hermione?"
He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was he'd been about to say was forgotten when Ginny reacted suddenly. "I'm not entirely sure." For more than one reason. "Told her what?" he asked cautiously.
Oh, Remus, have some damn faith in your students.
"Why they're doing it! Wossname and his cronies!" Ginny's face lit up as the wheels of her mind turned. "I mean, possibly it also pleases them to think we're beholden to them, or at least to think that WE think we are, but that's not the main reason, is it?" Her expression was almost triumphant.
"They're doing it to tweak Umbridge."
"I think that's a good possibility. I think it's a good thing to let them do," he added, bluntly.
He raked a hand through his hair, leaned back in his chair and drapped one ankle over the opposite knee. "I'm still not entirely sure I told her," he confessed. "She was tired and overwrought, I wasn't at my best so I dropped the subject for the time being and sent her to bed. She's not going to turn them down and that's all that really matters right now."
"I think Hermione knowing why they're doing it also matters, if only for her peace of mind. I mean, it's common ground, innit?" She reached for her plate again, as if this good bit of news had given her back her appetite. "The enemy of my enemy may still be my enemy -- and, understand, every bit as much as I distrust Snape, I actually hate Malfoy -- but if we're careful, we might actually be able to wring some good out of this handshake with the devil."
She cut carefully into her meat. "I don't know whether Hermione will see it that way, but at least it lets her negotiate from something a little more like a position of strength."
His shoulders went just a bit tight, but after a moment they relaxed and when he spoke his voice was calm, level and soft as ever.
"I do agree that she needs to know. I did tell her that she was in a position of power. In retrospect it's possible that I was too oblique or theoretical for her given her state of exhaustion. Or that I was just plain unclear."
He moved on, voice and posture both open and relaxed, still except for stroking his fingers along the arm of his chair, rhythmically.
"I obviously agree with you on all counts - from not liking them to hoping some good comes of this. It's just possible that it will, and it's also possible if we can get them really tied up in Hogwarts - their money, their children, their time, their pride and reputations - Hogwarts will be safer. Or," he admitted without changing his expression or voice, save a soft snort, "They'll try to run us out and take over."
He, in particular, and Minerva, were not in precisely stable positions and he was a damn good way to get to Minerva, and he knew it.
"I don't think they can," Ginny replied, softly but with the fire of conviction behind her words. "A Hogwarts run entirely by that lot isn't really Hogwarts, is it? They run us out, we take Hogwarts with us."
Remus smiled at her, quick but warm and bright. "I agree, and I may be tilting at windmills but Lucius and his...friends are used to having influence. We'll just have to watch ourselves, but ultimately: Yes. The enemy of my enemy, they're where we can see them, and if we're lucky we have a bit of protection - from them at least. Of course, Umbridge may use any association with -"
He stopped speaking, mid sentence. "I could chase my tail all night if I let myself, and isn't doing anyone any good."
"But it has done at least a little bit of good already," Ginny replied between bites of steak. "If nothing else, I've got some idea now how to give moral support to Hermione. Dunno if it'll help, but it's made me feel better in the meantime, anyway."
She smiled fondly at Remus. "You've seen those Muggle car stickers that say 'God is my co-pilot'? I need one that says 'My voice of reason is a werewolf'."
"If your voice of reason is a werewolf," Remus said (mostly) seriously but with an underlying thread of very dry humor. "I suggest you make an appointment to be seen by a qualified mental health care professional as soon as possible."
He stretched, took a roll and broke off a bit and ate it - politely and reasonably slowly. "Are you still feeling guilty for being relieved that it wasn't you that had to do meet with them?"
"Nah." Ginny grinned. "Well, okay, yeah, but not so much you'd notice, anymore." She set her plate aside and poured herself a cup of tea, with a wordless offer to refresh Remus's cup if he'd like.
He passed her his cup. "How's your family?" This was relevant, at least in Remus's mind with the way things were beginning to gear up, again.
"They're well, thanks," Ginny replied as she poured. "A bit concerned about recent events, but that's to be expected. Milk?"
Remus was slightly thrown and blinked. "No, thank you. Black is fine."
She handed the cup back and regarded Remus for a long moment in thoughtful silence. "Were things in this much flux after the first war?"
Remus curled both hands around the cup and changed his position in the chair while he thought back and considered the question.
"Yes and no." He smiled, to indicate that he understood that it wasn't a very good answer. "There was a lot of upheaval, a lot of change and a lot of pain, but when it was over it felt like it was really over. Like we could pick up the pieces and move on and, I guess we all did. Ten years later, Harry came into Hogwarts and the wizarding world was back on its feet.
"I don't know if it's because we're older and wiser, because we've learned from our experiences or just because we're running after shadows and chasing ghosts, trying to stop it happening all over again, but we're nearly a decade past the end, that same point when Harry came back to Hogwarts and so did Voldemort. And I don't know that we've even started to rebuild our lives, much less our world."
He spoke as though he'd forgotten Ginny was there, but he certainly hadn't, and when he finished he met her eyes and smiled, in a faint and vague way.
In return, Ginny gave him a small smile shot through with sadness. She held his gaze only for a moment before lowering her eyes to stare into her teacup. When she spoke, her voice was low and husky.
"For years and years, there've been these clear lines drawn in the sand of the wizarding world: pureblood versus everyone else, mostly, and eventually Death Eaters versus everyone else. Now, sometimes it feels like the sands themselves are shifting under our feet. Makes it damned hard to walk sometimes, you know? Or at least to feel like we're making any sort of forward progress."
"I think the hardest part is realizing just how capable of prejudiced I am. The shifting lines I keep tripping over are my own, and that's." He shook his head. "It's troubling. We were the good guys, , but where's the line? What is the difference and does it really matter, anymore?"
Ginny took a long, fortifying sip of tea as she considered his question. "Nobody ever thinks they're the bad guys, do they? Well -- Malfoy might cop to it, I suppose. But even Umbridge must think she's making the wizarding world a better, safer place with her draconian laws and refusal to speak anything so dangerous as the truth."
She cradled her teacup in her hands and looked earnestly at Remus. "But I think I know what Dumbledore would say, and I think it's the thing that still matters: Why do we do the things we do? More to the point -- do we do them out of hate, or do we do them out of love?"
"I'd be surprised if even Lucius didn't have motivations that weren't entirely self-serving," Remus admitted. "Or at least motivations that aren't completely self-serving among the ones that are."
Remus looked back and lifted both his eyebrows, deliberately just slightly silly. "I think he'd say Tweak, personally." Then he got more serious. "I don't know about anyone else, but the line tangles very easily for me - Not that I love Lucius, but that it's easy to hate in defense of love."
"Nitwit." Ginny responded to his jest with an affectionate grin.
More seriously, she said, "And I've already confessed to you some of my hate. It's so easy to hang on to, to keep the fires stoked, while telling oneself that it's all for the greater good. How shall we keep ourselves honest, then?"
Remus returned the grin because he had to, and shrugged. "I don't know. Your voice of reason is louder than mine right now." Her voice of reason being a werewolf, of course.
"A fair point, that. But even when you're on your period, you still manage to give me the best food for thought." She smiled, a small teasing smile.
Remus cocked his head at her, inquisitively, and wrinkled his forehead. The expression was comically canine. He stayed silent while he blinked a few times. "I would ask if your mother taught you anything, but I've met your brothers." Pause. "And I'm not sure she didn't say something similar once."
"Yeah, I s'pose comparing me to my mother is fair revenge for that." Ginny grinned. "I know my experience is nothing like a fair comparison to yours, or even Bill's, but I can't help but think of it when I come over all bitey once a month."
"The comparison's not completely flawed," Remus admitted - reluctantly. "It's an involuntary surge of something that may or may not be followed by bloodloss." He was going to go to hell for this, but it wasn't bad. "And it's probably worse for Bill than me."
Ginny gave a wry snort at his description -- grim, but accurate. "Why worse for Bill?" she asked, intrigued.
He wanted to find a way to phrase it that wasn't horribly insulting, remembered she'd made a reference to his period and decided it probably didn't matter.
"Dogs and wolves can be kept as pets with a fair degree of success, provided you understand their psychology, behaviour, and needs. Wolf-dog hybrids are more dangerous than either. They're less predictable, their body language is less clear and somewhat distorted, and their impulses and instincts conflict."
Ginny nodded slowly. "That does make a terrible sort of sense. And---" she looked at Remus with respect bordering on awe, "--once again, you've managed to explain fifteen things with a single analogy. It ties right back into the whole conversation about purebloods versus everyone else, doesn't it?"
He extended his hand and wobbled it back and forth in an indecisive gesture. "Divided loyalties, needs, and possibly psychology and predictability. It also ties back into the power vacuum we've all had - but that's another level and layer, I think."
"Now I'm going to spend the whole weekend pondering the lot of it, you know," Ginny said. "Which reminds me -- do you have any special instructions, particularly for where I should spend my attentions, while you're away? I expect I'll spend at least some time just prowling the grounds making sure nothing's amiss." She actually sounded rather pleased by the prospect.
"I don't think there's any area that needs particular attention - though if you get a bit of time you can check the wards while you're prowling."
"Of course. I'd be happy to."
Ginny leaned back comfortably against the sofa cushions and smiled. "It's a pleasant thing to be on campus without having to worry about classes. Even if I do have plenty of other things to worry about instead."
Remus stretched back in his seat, and leaned his head against the back of his chair. "It feels different without the students here," he agreed, almost laziliy. "Smaller, I think."
"For me, I think it feels bigger and smaller at the same time. Smaller, because it seems so still and quiet that you could almost pick it up and cradle it in your hands, like a baby bird. But bigger, because...." She scrunched up her nose a bit, thinking. "When the students are here, I have to be the grown-up, you know? When I'm left just being myself, all those feelings I had when I first came to Hogwarts come rushing back. I'm twelve years old again, and this is the most magical, ancient, awe-inspiring place on earth."
She grinned at Remus. "Which may explain why sometimes I turn right into a gutter-minded adolescent when I come in here to talk to you. Sometimes I don't know why you put up with me, Remus, but I'm awfully glad you do."
Remus turned his head to look from the ceiling to her. "Hogwarts has meant home for me, for an awfully long time," he admitted. "When they leave it's like finally having the house to yourself after the family's been running about and under your feet all day." Which sounded a bit ridiculous and was almost entirely supposition and idealism, rather than any practical experience.
"I don't mind. If you were still actually a student I might have to give you detention, but as it is it doesn't bother me. In fact it makes me feel younger - and it's fun," he admitted with a fast, bright, grin.
"Oh, but careful you don't encourage me too much," she replied, eyes twinkling with impish glee, "else I might start passing you naughty notes during staff meetings. And then McGonagall will give us both detention."
"If you start passing me naughty notes, I'll send you to Tonks for a talking to," he promised, grinning slightly.
"Oh, I dunno, I suspect Tonks would come down on the side of naughty notes on general principles." Her smile was a bit sly, as if she were deliberately misconstruing his meaning.
He let it go and went with her. "Maybe, as long as the subject matter wasn't too traumatizing. Minerva and Moody, for instance - " he let it hang there.
Ginny made a strangled sort of sound in the back of her throat and started laughing. "Gaah! Must wash brain!" she said, flailing her hands in front of her as if to shoo the image away. "But at least you didn't say Filch...."
"And his cat," Remus supplied serenely. He was also smug and completely enjoying himself.
"The man does love his pussy," Ginny replied with an almost straight face, but then covered her mouth with both hands to hold in a fresh round of giggles.
"Completely whipped," Remus agreed. Then he laughed, low and soft and warm and rumbling. "Go now and you might just have interesting dreams."
"I'm not sure I could handle them that interesting," squeaked Ginny. "A girl does have her limits. But on the other hand -- how brilliant would it be to write them down and give them to Trelawney to interpret?" She opened her eyes very wide and said in the Divinations professor's misty voice, "I seeee that you are going to die an oooold maid... in a very filthy gutter, Professor Weasley...."
She stood and brushed a few stray breadcrumbs from her shirt. "But I probably should let you get some rest, at any rate."
He stood up when she did, and walked with her toward the door. "You're too young to need to worry about dying an old maid," He told her easily. "And if you do decide to mess with Sibyl, please let me know."
"Oh, I'd hardly say I'm worried about it," Ginny said lightly. "I'm married to my work, which -- while it doesn't make the best date for the cinema -- is not such a bad way to be." She reached out and stroked the wall, fondly.
"If I decide to mess with Sibyl, I promise you'll be the first to know." She grinned up at her friend. "'Night, Remus, and may your dreams be mercifully free of questionable faculty shenanigans."
"Next topic of conversation: Why being married to your work and fondling the Castle is reason for concern," he said just as lightly.
He stepped back to his desk, rolling his eyes at himself and retrieved a ring of keys from his desk and took them back and held them out to her. "Good night, Ginny. Sleep well and I'll see you, Sunday."
"But the castle is so big, and hard, and nevermind," Ginny replied, barely stifling her laughter.
But when Remus presented her with the ring of keys, her demeanor became suddenly more serious. She took the keys with a sort of grave respectfulness, as if honoured to be trusted with the responsibility.
"Be safe," she said with a small smile as she departed. "See you Sunday."
Last modified: 12 January 2008