The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix - Part Two

XLV: 26 February, 1994

Remus was pacing in his office, nervously glancing at the watch on his wrist, then up at the clock on the mantel. Time was crawling along, getting later and later and he could feel anxiety antsing up inside of him. He felt nauseated and a bit dizzy - the late February moon always had this effect on him. What kind of cruel fate was it that the month that controlled his pancreas was also the one that effected the small intestine, too? A question he asked every year when his blood sugar dropped but the very thought of food - even chocolate - nauseated him and would cause gastrointestinal issues that were just humiliating even for a wolf. He wanted to just take the bloody wolfsbane and about a gallon of sleeping draught and call it a night - a week, for that matter - because it had certainly been a long one. 

Harry was frustrated because, despite the entire bloody school seeing his patronus charge the fake dementors at the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game, he, Harry, had not seen the full corporeal shape for himself and he was discounting his abilities. The fact that Harry felt so frustrated was frustrating Remus because he felt that perhaps Harry thought he was some sort of poor teacher for it, as though if Remus were doing better at his job then Harry would be able to cast a full corporeal patronus at will.

It just didn't work like that. It was miraculous that it had happened even the twice he'd done it. The wisps of some that usually rose from the tip of Harry's wand were much more the pace for a wizard his age to be producing only a couple months after beginning practicing the patronus charm. But bleedin' hell if Remus could get that through Harry's skull. He was so much like his father - determined to instantly be the best at everything and anything he waved his wand at...

Where the bleeding hell was Severus Snape? Remus looked at the clock on the mantel again, then down at his watch, checking time against one another, half worrying that perhaps one of the two of them had stopped and at any moment the moon would come in through the window and transform him and with his bloody luck he'd rampage half the castle before Dumbledore could neutralize him.

Fine, if Snape was too damned busy to bring the potion then Remus would just have to go without. If he waited around much longer, he wouldn't have time to get out to the Shack. He stormed into his private quarters and started haucking things into a ruck sack, cursing and muttering to himself. "Great greasy git headed slimeball --"

"LUPIN!"

Remus's head snapped up from where he'd been staring down into the rucksack. His mind quickly rushed over the last four to five words that had come out of his mouth. How much of it had Severus Snape heard? "Shit," Remus muttered, and he ducked out onto the landing overlooking the office below, expecting to see Severus with a goblet of bubbling purple potion, but there was no Snape. His brow knit and he walked as quickly as his horrid knees would allow, down the steps. "Severus?" he called.

"LUPIN, I WANT A WORD!" the words were accompanied by a flash of green light from the fireplace and Remus turned about, realizing it was the Floo Network.

"Lazy git why don't you just walk up here --" Remus muttered, reaching for the box of floo powder on the mantel, nearly knocking over the black vase that held a single, dry, half-wilted rose. He steadied it and sighed, shaking his head, and pinched what he needed out. He stepped into the floo and felt as though he were on a long twisting slide that went through the castle floors as quick as could be before being coughed out into the office of Severus Snape.

Dusting off, Remus stood up right and looked around. 

Simmering on a small bunson was the cauldron of Wolfsbane. A tray of aconite leaves - the final ingredient before serving - sat beside the cauldron, along with the empty goblet. Beside these lay a bag from Zonko's, the contents having spilled out on the desk.