Ad Infinitum (Remus Lupin X Reader)

XX • Narratio

XX • Narratio • A Story

The first few days of break flew by, but then they began to drag on. I found myself missing the classes and the students, and even the calming repetition of grading.

On Christmas morning, I awoke in my own bed. A couple of days prior was my and Lupin's argument, and after that, I wasn't too keen on spending time with him. As much I liked him and wanted to have a relationship with him, I was nervous that he was going to start another fight, and I wanted to get through the rest of the break without it.

I started my day with a walk in the courtyard, grappling with the idea of visiting Lupin. If he had missed my presence, he hadn't said so outright. He hadn't so much as sought me out.

I blundered the day away, taking my usual walk in the courtyard and exploring the castle, constantly checking the time to make sure I didn't miss lunch. Once the time came, I rushed to the Great Hall, my stomach rumbling.

"Hello," I said as I entered the Great Hall, finding only a small group of teachers present. It looked almost as if they were in some sort of a meeting, not assembling for lunch. "Am I interrupting?"

"No, Miss Y/L/N," Headmaster Dumbledore said. "There aren't many of us here so we figured there was no use using the house tables."

"Oh, sure," I said and hesitantly took a seat when Dumbledore gestured to an empty chair beside Snape. "Who'll be joining us?"

"All of the professors who have stayed, save for Professor Trelawney, and the students," Dumbledore said.

I nodded and looked around. Lupin wasn't at the table.

"And Professor Lupin?"

"Ah, he's fallen ill again," Dumbledore said. From beside me, Snape exhaled smartly through his nose.

"I see."

"Although, it shouldn't last too long. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said.

"Then he should be back in good health in no time," Dumbledore said with a smile, turning his attention back to his food.

"What is the potion, exactly?" I asked, shaking my head when Dumbledore held out a platter of what appeared to be tripe.

A smile spread across Snape's face, his eyes trained on the goblet in his hand. "He hasn't told you? Why, I assumed he would have by now, seeing how you two get along." My cheeks heated up.

"He hasn't told me anything about his illness," I said.

"Perhaps you should ask him," he suggested quietly so that only I could hear him.

"Why? What is it?" I asked, matching his quiet tone. "Should I be worried?"

"The answer," he said, holding his hands out before him as if he were holding an open book, "is right under your nose. And as much as I would love to indulge you, Miss Y/L/N, I'm afraid it's not my story to tell."

"He doesn't take well to my asking," I said, watching Snape closely. Although he seemed genuine in his responses, I sensed some sort of malfeasance in his words, as if he was setting me up to make a mistake.

"And he never has," Snape said. "But he doesn't care to cover his tracks well, and I believe you could make something of the patterns he tries to hide."

"What does that mean?"

"Figure it out. If what Lupin says about you is true, you should have the intellect to decipher it," he said and turned away from me.