Remus Lupin and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter 27: Hogsmeade Trip

Remus was warned off of giving specific gifts to specific students by Professor Sprout and McGonagall; "You don't want to promote favoritism or inappropriate teacher student relationships," McGonagall had said warningly.

"You also don't want to be beholden to 75 little ruffians for Christmas crackers," Sprout had muttered darkly, instilling in him a burning need for that story. But when he had looked at her in curiosity, she had just shaken her head solemnly and sipped her tea.

She did, however elect to come along, as she apparently needed a new stash of Cauldron Cakes; Peeves had dumped all of them down the toilet. "Little bugger doesn't often bother me," she had scowled sourly as they met outside the gates in the pearly afternoon light. "I fancy he was bored, what with the castle being empty for weeks on end and there's no way I'll be able to manage first year's greenhouse drama without my chocolate." She clasped her green cloak and set her fuzzy earmuffs on firmly before looking up at him. "Ready?"

The Apparated in tandem, appearing on Hogsmeade's snowy streets in stride with each other. The snow looked like icing on the cozy store front with their frosted windows, glowing from within. For a moment, he allowed the ease of this place seep into him; magic folk everywhere, the full moon weeks away, a town steeped with happy memories like a strong tea. How many times had he walked these streets with friends at his side, huddled in sneaky delight beneath James' cloak or with adolescent smugness? Too many to count, he was sure. He could walk these streets blindfolded, if pressed. A moment of pain passed through his chest; he found if he alighted on memories delicately enough, just grazed them in passing, they hurt far less than being submerged and...wallowing, he supposed the term was.

Remus looked down at Professor Sprout, striding briskly at his elbow. Perhaps it was time for a new memory in this place. "Well, my stop it's Honeyduke's," she said. "Anything you're getting from there?"

He studied the sign thoughtfully. "I'll expect that's the safest place to get most things, honestly; who doesn't enjoy sweets? Probably the easiest on my budget as well," he sighed before eyeing her dryly. "That was the general idea of the holiday amnesia where everyone conveniently forgot to inform me when presents were exchanged, was it not?"

Sprout had the decency to at least not try to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about; she met his eyes and flashed him a knowing grin. "Yep. I told them it wouldn't hold water; too much pride in you to let all that go."

"Pride hasn't a thing to do with it!" He raised his eyebrows in surprise. She raised hers right back. "Well... at least not all of it," he subsided, grudgingly.

The smell of warm caramel and dark chocolate flooded over them as they entered the warm, spacious candy shop. While he enjoyed sweets as much as the next person, it seemed the youthful fanaticism with sugar had dimmed in his years away from Hogwarts. Where the ocean of nougat, sprinkles, and icing would have seemed a veritable dream to him when he was Harry's age now had the effect of making his teeth hurt just looking at them. Idly, the both of them wandered down separate aisles, picking through the smorgasbord of colors and flavors. "What does Professor McGonagall like?" Remus asked over the partition featuring a bright blue mouse doing some sort of frenzied, quaking dance, giving faint squeaks intermittently.

"Minerva's a woman who likes the basics; biscuits, some of those lemon meringue bites, the simple things, no special effects." Her voice issued from somewhere behind a tower of chocolate frog boxes. "You can call her Minerva, you know, lad. You're not our student anymore."

A small chuckle escaped him at the thought of the awed and terrified look that Peter would have shot him if he dared try to address her that way. The unholy and irreverent glee that would have shone in James and Sirius's eyes. "I wouldn't dare. I'm not sure when I'll feel like a proper Professor anyhow; I still have the maddening feeling everyone knows more than me." He pondered over the bright stacks before choosing the very bits of meringue Sprout had suggested.