The Stars and Forbidden Cigarettes | Professor Remus Lupin

New Year's Eve

Dear Reverie,

Your letter reminded me of how much I missed seeing old Luna fly through the window. I gave her some of our fish – I do hope that's alright.

It also reminded me of how much I miss you. Italy is beautiful, and I think you'd love it here. It's so strange to see a different kind of magic in the way Italians live their lives, especially during the holidays. The music on the streets, the fireworks in the sky, the Romanesque buildings with lights hung along every portico, the piazzas full of life and families with children playing in the snow. The only thing missing was a game of quidditch in the tauntingly perfectly-sized gardens and hoop-sized arches. I know a life without magic is different, but in Italy, there's a different type of magic, perhaps in the chance that it could really be all around you but you have no way of knowing.

But there are dark and poor and dreary parts too, and what a curse it is to not be able to use real magic there.

Hogwarts sounds lonely, but I do miss the deep snow. It almost doesn't feel like Christmas without it. I can't imagine the fun to be had at McGonagall's parties, and the group left behind sounds like a truly rowdy bunch. Filch and Lupin! I feel rather bad for McGonagall actually – she doesn't have much to work with.

Don't let the cold or the quiet get to you too much – the holidays will be over soon, and then we'll be graduating before you know it.

I hope you have a very happy new year despite it all. Write to me as often as you'd like.

Oliver.

——

New Year's Eve arrives welcomedly, if only as a mark to end a less than ideal year. Reverie hasn't moved from the common room and dormitories much at all, and her only remnant of the outside world is Oliver's letter that she's read over tens of times.

She doesn't find the energy to write back yet, though, and she folds it and places it under her pillow before she leaves for McGonagall's dinner party that night.

She figures she'll sit at a table in the corner and try not to mingle, only going to avoid being alone with herself at the start of the new year, as she had been at the start of this one. But, of course, most things are easier said than done, because she doesn't realize she has to pass Lupin's room on the way to the Transfiguration classroom, and she doesn't have time to turn around when his door opens just as she's approaching. He's wearing a perfectly fitted gray wool suit, with a black vest and button-up underneath, and light stubble adorns his face, so much so that Reverie burns with the curiosity of how it would feel against her face.

Reverie slows and stops a few feet away, cautiously, and Lupin's eyes fall on her and stay there as he closes the door gently behind him. She's wearing another thin black dress, this time with a back so low that it falls just above her waist and a hem that ends just at her knee. He drinks her in as they stand across from one another, and Reverie burns under his gaze. It's quiet in the hallway, and Reverie's used to the silence, but she wants to break it around him.

"To McGonagall's then?" She says, barely loud enough to reach his ears, but he hears her.

There's an understanding, perhaps, between them, that to speak of that night is to cross a line into uncharted territory from which one cannot turn back, and Reverie doesn't dare, but she almost wishes he would.

"Not yet," he responds, and she feels her face reddening at the half-suggestion that they go together, until he continues. "This, first."

Lupin reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small book, and he walks towards Reverie until it takes up the only space between them. He doesn't look away from her, and she looks up at him, confused.