A/N: So as usual, I don’t own the characters. I did create Lyria, and Scooter, I suppose…
Anyway this series is a gift for Snuffles, and I give it a PG-13. Read, send feedback, enjoy.
"Lyria, this is too kind of you," Remus
told her as his trunk landed softly on the floor of her guest room.
“I told you, my flatmate
moved out and the place is too big for just me,” she said simply. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
“Nevermind your flatmate moved out, I happen to know she moved out about
three months ago.”
“And I thought I’d quite like not having to deal
with anyone, but I’ve proven myself wrong,” she retorted, but he was
right. She knew – though she had, of
course, not mentioned to him that she knew – that he’d once again been chased
from his own flat when the neighbors found out about his condition. Truth was, she *had* liked living by
herself. However, Remus was one of her
closest living friends, and she didn’t much want him being kicked from pillar
to post again. If he stayed here, she
could at least attempt to look after him, and she’d handle the neighbors. “Now. You have to meet Scooter, so come on.”
He blinked. “Scooter?”
Lyria led him out to the kitchen, where a gray cat sat by
the sink. Upon seeing Lyria, the cat
meowed. “Scooter, this is Remus. Remus, meet Scooter. He’s a bit of a mental case, the poor dear,
but he can really be quite sweet.”
“I hope you’re talking about the cat.”
She smirked. “I
think it might be best to leave a certain amount of ambiguity, don’t you?”
“No wonder your last flatmate
moved out,” he said dryly.
“I mock because I care,” she told him, pouring coffee. “Scooter, mind your tail.” The cat meowed again and looked at Remus
expectantly. He scratched the top of the
animal’s head, and Scooter purred a bit.
“Look, you’ve made a friend.” She handed him the coffee, and Remus grinned
a bit. She’d even remembered how he took
his coffee.
“Impressive, you remembered.”
“I have an excellent memory so far as coffee is concerned,”
she said with a grin. “It’s nearly
dinnertime, though… what do you want?”
“I think I can manage to find something,” he replied.
“No, I want to cook.
I hate doing it for just me, but now I have someone to cook for.”
“Lyria,” he said quietly, putting a hand on her arm to stop
her opening a cabinet, “Stop trying to be my mother. I appreciate this, you know I do, but you’ve
a life of your own and you don’t need to babysit me.”
“I don’t plan to babysit you,”
she said coolly, stepping away from him.
“However, it’s quite obvious that you haven’t eaten a proper meal since
well before the last full moon. Am I
correct?” His silence was answer enough,
and she continued. “Then I’m afraid
you’re going to have to tolerate the fact that I *am* concerned about you. I’m not your keeper, but you don’t seem very
successful at taking care of yourself.”
She opened the cabinet and handed him a bowl. “You are, however, helping. Make salad.”
“Lyria –“
“Remus, just shut up and make a fucking salad,” she
snapped.
Surprised, he complied.
~*~*~*~
It didn’t take long to settle into a routine. Remus unpacked, and after a week or so
Scooter accepted him properly. It didn’t
take Lyria half that time to get used to him.
He had to admit, it was nice to have company. Of course, Lyria was off at Auror
Headquarters during the day, but she was there evenings and mornings, and
Scooter seemed perfectly glad to have someone around all day. He’d learned to cook – he’d never be as good
at it as Lyria was, but he could at least make dinner so he felt like he was
helping earn his keep. It was… peaceful,
really, not to have to be so concerned about the neighbors for once…
Today, however, things got more complicated.
Lyria was late coming home – not rare in and of itself, but
she was much, much later than usual, and she came home limping, a bloody gash
down the side of her face, hair snarled and robes a mess. “Oh, am I late?” She said as casually as she could manage.
“Oh, are you *alive?*” Remus retorted. “Sit.
What happened?”
“There was a raid.
It didn’t go so well,” she said shortly.
“I never would have guessed,” he said dryly. “Sit and let me look at that leg. You ought to be at
“Absolutely not. Bad enough they
want me spending two weeks off duty.”
She did sit, however, and he sat near her.
“And that didn’t tip you off that you might qualify as
seriously injured?” He sighed. “Don’t get up. I’m going to clean that open wound gracing
your face and then we’ll see about your leg.
You know this sort of thing isn’t my talent.”
She shrugged.
“You’re better at it than me, and I knew you were here.”
He returned a minute later, gently pressing a cloth to the
gash. She yelped and jumped away. “Does it sting?”
“Sting? No, but bloody
hell, it’s cold!”
She said, trying to cover for her reaction. It stung like crazy, and whatever it was
didn’t smell too nice, either.
He might have chuckled if he weren’t concerned about
her. “Stop moving, it won’t help
any. Get back here.” She grumbled but slid over carefully so he
could clean the wound. “If that leg’s
broken, I’m not going to be able to mend it very well.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Still afraid of Healers, I see.”
“I’m not *afraid* of them, Lupin, I just don’t see any need
to go running to one over every scrape,” she growled.
“Right. Broken bones, after
all, are really nothing to fuss over.”
“Shut up.”
He smiled a bit.
“You know, you really are an impressive lady. Stubborn as a senile goat,
but impressive anyway.”
“And you really are annoying the hell out of me at the
moment with your perpetual calmness.”
“I have a certain talent that way.” He put down the cloth and healed the wound as
best as he could. “You’d best hope that
doesn’t scar, Lyria. I wish you’d see
someone about that leg.”
“Could you possibly knock it off, *Mum?*”
“Very well, but if it heals wrong and you wind up looking
like Mad-Eye Moody, I am *not* taking responsibility for it.”
“I’m contemplating hitting you with this pillow, would that
be alright?”
“It’d be fine, but I will retaliate and you can’t exactly
chase me at the moment.” He set about
mending her leg. “That’s the best I can
do.”
She immediately tested her weight on it. “It’s fine.
Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She took a step and fell.
Instinctively, Remus caught her and, before she could say anything, set
the leg in a splint. “You’re going to
have to limp along like that,” he told her, still helping hold her
upright.
“I suppose so.” She
didn’t let him go, not much wanting to tumble over again and not sure of her
footing yet. “I really need to shower.”
“You can’t do that by yourself in your present state,” he
said.
She cursed. It was a
valid point, but… it was *Remus.* “Um…”
If he were prone to cursing, he likely would have done the
same. This had the potential to be very,
very awkward. Now would be a fine time
for some sort of ingenious method for Lyria to be able to stand upright on her
own. “Couldn’t we put some sort of chair
in the shower for you? A temporary
sticking charm should hold it in place.”
She all but sighed with relief. “That’ll do.
Good idea.” Why was that
possibility so awkward? They lived together
now, she supposed, that was it. Besides,
there were some things one simply didn’t do with friends, no matter how close.
Remus carefully helped her down the hallway to the
bathroom, then stuck a chair to the floor of the
shower. “Do you think you can manage the
rest?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She kept one hand firmly on the wall for guidance.
“Alright…” He left
the bathroom and closed the door behind him, upon which he heard a thud and
Lyria’s cry of “Fucking shit!” He opened
the door again to find, as he had suspected, that Lyria had hit the floor. What he had not suspected, however, was that
she had already undressed. Well, there
was nothing for it, she couldn’t exactly stay on the bathroom floor… he hastily
threw a towel at her and then helped her sit up on the floor. “Are you alright?”
“I’d be better if I could stay on my feet,” she replied,
grateful for the towel. She yanked it
around herself.
“I think you’re going to need a bit more help than
previously expected,” he said simply, helping her stand. “Is that alright with you?”
“Have I got another option?”
“Not unless you want a few more bruises.” Now was not the time to be distracted by the
fact that his flatmate was clad in nothing but a
towel. She’d let down the long dark
curly hair she always tied up out of her way… he wondered if he’d ever seen her
with her hair down. He couldn’t deny
that he’d always thought she was pretty in a classic sort of way, but his
current reaction to that simply would not do when she needed assistance.
Lyria had noticed, of course, that he was a bit…
distracted, and she could almost feel herself blushing. That hadn’t been expected at all… well, he
was a perfectly attractive grown man, so why was she
so damn surprised? ‘You never exactly
contemplated his sex life before, though, had you?’ A nagging little voice muttered to her. She blushed all the more furiously.
He carefully helped her step over the shower’s edge and
kept a hand on her until she was sitting in the chair. “Call for me when you’re finished,
alright? Don’t go falling over again
trying to do it yourself,” he said gently.
She nodded, and he fairly fled the room.
Bloody hell, she’d noticed… well, that was embarrassing.
~*~*~*~
It was the next morning, when Lyria was sitting with her
bad leg propped up and a cup of coffee in her hand, that
Remus decided to bring up a rather crucial detail. “Tonight’s the full moon.”
“Mm. Wolfsbane and sedatives,” she
told him. “I’m a step ahead of you.”
“And you happen to keep both of those things about the
place, just in case?”
“I made them both,” she said, casually sipping the
coffee. “Some of us paid attention in
Potions.”
“Thank you.”
“I don’t much fancy getting bitten,” she pointed out. “Besides, I can’t see how you sleeping
through it would be a bad thing.”
“Agreed,” he said quietly.
“But still. I’m going to need to
be contained.”
“I could lock you in the guest room.”
“Absolutely not. I’d break that door
down.”
“While unconscious? Quite talented,
aren’t you?”
“Lyria, don’t be so casual about this, please.” He sighed.
She studied him. He
already looked tired. “The
basement.”
“Too many other people in this building. If someone went
down there…”
“The boiler room, then. It’s the middle of
the summer, no one’s going to traipse down there for a
walk. I’ll soundproof it.”
“Alright.” He paused. “Are you going to be able to walk back
upstairs from there?”
“I’m going to have to, aren’t I?”
“No. I could go to
Hogsmeade, Dumbledore would hardly object.”
“Bit of a hike from here.”
“I can apparate.”
“You look ready to fall over, you’ll splinch
yourself.”
“Alright. Downstairs it is,
then.” He paused. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“A bit banged up from having fallen over twice yesterday,
but alright.” She hesitated. If they had to live together, they should
discuss… “Listen, Remus – yesterday…”
He winced. Oh, God,
did they have to talk about *that?* “Don’t mind me, it wasn’t anything…”
“That’s not what I was going to – “
“It’s just… been an awfully long time since – “
“Well you know how to make a girl feel special,” she said
dryly.
His eyes widened.
“That’s not what I was going to say!
Let me finish, please. It’s just
been a long time since I’ve looked at you and remembered that in addition to
being Lyria, my flatmate and temporary savior…”
She laughed.
“You’re also a very attractive woman. That’s all.”
“Well, I can’t say it wasn’t flattering, and I suppose
you’ve redeemed yourself,” she said, just a bit of teasing in her tone. “You happen to be very attractive
yourself.” She inwardly winced a bit,
though. Damnit,
Lyria, you aren’t supposed to flirt with him, you have to live with this
man! And you *certainly* don’t need a
romance, you’re a career girl!
He blinked, a bit surprised. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She studied him. “You really
should take a nap. It’ll be a long
night.”
“About that. I’m going to
Hogsmeade.”
“Remus!”
“It’s the safest possibility,” he said simply.
“You are the most obstinate man I have ever met, and you
disagree with this calm charm that just makes people agree with you. That wasn’t a compliment!”
“I beg to differ, I think somewhere in there you called me
charming,” he said, smiling a bit to himself.
“If I did, you can be *quite* sure it was an accident!”
He laughed. “Lyria,
you wound me.”
“However shall I live with myself?” She rolled her eyes.
“You should do something to make it up to me,” he decided.
“Such as? I’m *not* remedying
yesterday’s situation, so don’t you even suggest a shag.” His jaw dropped, and she burst out
laughing. “Oh, you, you’re entirely too
serious, Remus. I don’t approve. You need to let me tease you without soiling
yourself.”
“That was – Lyria, I don’t even know what to say to you,”
he said. “That was… entirely
unnecessary!”
“You should have seen your face!” She laughed.
“I’ve never seen anyone go so pale that fast!”
He crumpled the napkin that was next to his coffee cup and
threw it at her.
~*~*~*~
The next morning found him in not nearly as good a
mood. He’d forgotten to bring the potion
Lyria had made him, and just getting to his feet was a struggle. He winced at the throbbing headache and
wondered if he’d charged a wall. He
managed his way back down the tunnel, emerging from the
“Nevermind
that, are you alright?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Why are you…?”
“Stop asking questions.
Here.” She helped support him and
got them both walking away from the
“Your leg,” he managed.
It was bright, he was confused, and God, his head hurt.
“
He shook his head – carefully. “No. I
want to go home.”
“You’re hurt…”
“No worse than usual,” he said simply. “To the flat, please.”
“Fine then, suit yourself, but you’re going to bed
*immediately.*” Before
long, they were back at the flat – home, he’d called it. Nice to hear him call it that, she
mused. She led him not to his own room
but to hers. “Here. In bed with you.”
“Thought you said no shagging,” he joked.
“My bed’s nicer.
Furthermore, you’re in no condition for that. Now go, I’ll bring you breakfast.”
He collapsed into the bed and woke well into the afternoon
to a cool cloth on his forehead and something that smelled *very* good
nearby. “What smells good?”
“Toast, eggs, and sausage, along with hot
chocolate.”
He smiled in spite of himself. “Thank you.”
“You’d better enjoy it while I’m home. You scared the crap out of me, to be
perfectly honest, is it always this bad?”
“No,” he admitted.
“It was a long night.”
“Looks like you tried to crack your head open.”
“I think I charged a wall, and the
“It got you pretty good.”
She was still gently bathing his face.
“Want to try sitting up? You’re
still pale as death.”
“I’ll sleep again after I eat something,” he told her,
sitting up. “I don’t feel that terrible
now, really. You’re making an awful
fuss.”
“Well, I’d never seen you the morning after,” she
admitted. “I told you, you scared me.”
The concern was nice… very nice. There hadn’t been so much fuss made since…
since he was at school, he realized. And
before that, his mother used to fuss over him, but this wasn’t exactly maternal
fussing. Whatever it was, he decided to
just leave her to it and let himself be taken care of
for once. He set into breakfast content
to let her sit by the bed. “Lyria, did
you go have lunch?”
“I’ll do that when you fall asleep. I’ll have to do dishes anyway.”
He stopped, looking at her.
“You’ve been sitting here since we got back?”
“I told you, I was worried,” she said simply. “Stop making a fuss. Eat.
You’d have done the same if I was ill.”
“This is a recurring illness, you know,” he told her.
“Just eat your breakfast,” she demanded.
~*~*~*~
He slept through most of the day, waking up for dinner and
then sleeping through the night until nine-thirty the next morning. On the plus side, a good twenty-four hours of
sleep had done wonders.
“You’re alive, good,” Lyria said with a grin as he made his
way into the kitchen the next morning.
“Nice to see you up and about… though you still don’t look your most
magnificent, if I may say so.”
“Nothing a coffee can’t fix,” he assured her
cheerfully. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” She
smiled, handing him the coffee before he could get near the pot.
He smiled, staring into the cup, but he paused for a
minute, reflecting on the few recollections he had of the day before. “Lyria, why did you come down to the school
at all?”
“Well… I woke up and the place was… just empty. I didn’t like it, so I thought I’d go and see
how you were…”
It was a perfectly friendly thing to do, he mused, but
something in how she wouldn’t look at him made him wonder what other motives
she’d had. “Lyria?”
She hesitated, but looked up at him. “I suppose I’ve gotten a bit fond of you, is
all.”
“A bit fond of –“ he cut himself
off, realizing suddenly what she meant.
Shit, that complicated matters.
It hadn’t crossed his mind that that might happen
before he moved in with her, but judging by a few days ago, he couldn’t pretend
it hadn’t crossed his mind since. “Well,
that… changes things,” he told her.
“I don’t think either of us exactly has time for a
romance,” she said briskly, as if she were discussing breakfast. That was it, brush it aside, somehow, and
things would be fine.
“I don’t know if it’s the sort of thing one can schedule,”
he mused, watching her carefully. Good
God, you idiot, just *say* something! He mentally screamed at himself. Yet the thought of admitting it seemed to
block his throat.
“Well, as far as I can tell, it’s a non-issue,” she said.
Shit, now she was fishing for him to say something. “I can’t say my feelings for you are strictly
platonic either.”
“I knew that,” she pointed out.
He pulled her into a hug and lightly kissed her
forehead. “Do you think it’s possible to
make a bit of time, then?”
“Oh, maybe,” she said in her usual mocking tone, but she
rested her head on his shoulder. It made
her smile to realize they were just the right heights that they fit together
like that perfectly.
He laughed softly.