Chapter Text
Remus was carrying his stack of books to library checkout counter when he did a double take. For a moment he thought he'd seen Sirius sitting on the window seat looking out at the snowy Hogwarts grounds, but that was impossible. That night was eighteen years ago, and Sirius was in Azkaban.
His second glance told him it was Draco Malfoy, which surprised him. He’d never thought Malfoy looked anything like his friend. Ex-friend. He studied his student. What was it about him that reminded him of Sirius? Not the blond hair or pale colouring, but the way they sat — pureblood training in their posture, casual elegance in every line, but also coiled tension. Malfoy gripped his wand so tightly Remus was surprised it hadn’t snapped. Sirius did that when he was thinking about his family.
Remus wondered what was bothering Malfoy and sighed in resignation. Malfoy had only even been rude to him and his fellow classmates during Defence Against the Dark Arts, but Remus was still his teacher and he cared. He wished he and the Marauders had realized what was going on for Sirius at home earlier, or that a teacher had seen the signs. No one dared to believe that abuse happened in pureblood families, but it did. Money and status didn’t automatically make for kind and doting parents. Especially when it came to the Blacks.
Remus placed his stack of books on a table and walked over to the window. He stood behind Malfoy for a moment, watching the snow fall on the grounds. The night was almost identical to the one eighteen years ago, in his fifth year, with the snow gently falling as he revised for midterms and James and Peter talked about their holiday plans.
“What are you going to do for the hols, Pads?” James had asked, chucking a wadded up piece of parchment at him when he hadn’t answered. Remus had glanced at his friend through the corners of his eyes while he pretended to stare at his textbook, watching how the wave of Sirius’s hair brushed passed his shoulders and the way his eyes sparked back to life as he returned to them from his thoughts.
“Are you looking forward to the holidays, Mr. Malfoy?” Remus asked.
Malfoy started and turned to him. He moved the same as Sirius, but the sneer on his face was nothing like the kindness in Sirius’s eyes, and his colouring and facial features were all Malfoy and showed no trace of the Black side of his family. “It’s none of your business,” Malfoy said.
Remus laughed, unperturbed by the snap of Malfoy’s words. “I was expecting a comeback with a little more bite.”Malfoy just glared at him. “I need some help preparing for class next week. Come on,” Remus said. It wasn’t strictly true, but an extra pair of hands wouldn’t hurt, and he wanted to see if he could get his student to open up in a less public environment. To his surprise, Malfoy stood and picked up his shoulder bag without a fuss.
Remus abandoned his stack of books. He could pick them up later and he didn’t dare push his luck by asking Malfoy to wait while he checked them out.
“So, can I get extra credit for this?” Malfoy asked on the walk to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classrooms.
“Trying to beat Granger and Potter to the top of the class?” Remus asked.
“No,” Malfoy said. It was a perfect lie — relaxed body, straight face — except for the most minuscule twitch in his left shoulder. Padfoot had the same tell. Remus tried to hide his smile. Maybe there was more Black in Draco Malfoy than he first thought.
“I can’t give you extra credit, but you’ll get extra practice with the creatures and spells before anyone else.”Malfoy nodded once, succinctly, while Remus unlocked the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts prep room. Inside was filled with tanks and trunks. There was a rattling from the wardrobe that held the Bogart and the Grindelow tank glowed green. Malfoy looked around in astonishment,. Remus wondered if Draco recognized any of the creatures in the room. They were obscure and rare Dark creatures that often hid from wizards.
“You keep all of these here?” Malfoy asked.
“No, Hagrid takes care of them most of the time. He’s got more space, but these are the ones that I’m planning on using in my upcoming lessons.”
“What are we doing next?” Malfoy asked.
“Red Caps,” said Remus, pointing to a mound of dirt on a wooden rolling cart.
“That doesn’t look like a Red Cap,” Malfoy said.
“It’s the Red Cap’s enclosure. It’s bigger on the inside. You’ve seen one before?” Remus asked, surprised again. Red Caps weren’t uncommon, but he didn’t picture the Malfoys enjoying camping trips or going sightseeing to visit the battlegrounds of ancient castles.
“We have them at the Manor,” Draco said as if this was normal.
Remus reeled and hid it. There were multiple Red Caps on the grounds of Malfoy Manor? Red Caps were solitary and territorial, for there to be more than one in a small area … Remus shied away from imagining the amount of violence.
“Have you ever had an encounter with one?” Remus asked, keeping his voice neutral.
“Once, when I was little. My Father cast a spell and got it off me. I don’t remember what. I didn’t have my wand yet.”
“They are surprisingly fast,” Remus prompted, Malfoy just hummed noncommittally. “Protego and Stupify are usually effective, but it’s better if you can avoid them altogether. My plan is to show the Red Cap to you and your classmates, discuss and practise spells, and then take a field trip to the Forbidden Forest and see if we can spot any warrens.”
“What do you need me for?” Draco asked.
“Help me roll the cart into the classroom without jostling it, and then the rest of these creatures need to be fed, and then we can work on your wand work.”“My wand work is excellent,” Draco mumbled, moving to the other side of the cart.
“Your wand work is very good,” Remus said. Everything Malfoy did tonight was reminding him of his childhood friend, even the bravado over the perceived insult. “Your stance is sometimes a little off, meaning your aim is less accurate. I would be happy to help.”
Draco nodded and stared at his hands as they rolled the cart and its artificial hill into the adjoining classroom.
“Why are you doing this?” Draco asked.
“Red Caps?” Remus asked. Draco raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “It’s useful to have an extra pair of hands.”“But you don’t really need the help,” Draco filled in.
“Not really,” Remus admitted.
“Are you trying to curry favour with my father? He has significant pull at the Ministry.”
“I am not using you to get to your father,” Remus reassured him with a silent, sad sigh. Malfoy blinked at him. “You are my student. It is my job to help you be your best.”
“At seven p.m. on a Saturday night” Draco snorted. “Don’t you have a life?”
“I live at Hogwarts, and being a teacher doesn’t end when my classes are over for the day.” Remus wouldn’t tell him the real reason was that Draco looked lonely and scared. Sirius hadn’t wanted to know when others saw his weaknesses, he doubted Malfoy would either.
“I’m one of your best students, go pity someone else.” The scorn in Draco’s voice made it sound like he was boasting, but Remus heard the request for validation beneath the words.
“That you are. And one of the hardest-working, though you try to make it look effortless."“What, like its hard?” Draco scoffed.
“It is hard, but you work at it enough so that no one knows you’re putting in the effort. Would you like to see my library?” Remus said, switching the topic to more comfortable ground.
“Whatever,” Malfoy said, but his eyes flicked over to the study door.
I’ve got a few books the school library doesn’t have,” Remus said, walking over to open the door and inviting Malfoy inside.
Malfoy glided with the kind of graceful nonchalance you could only achieve from a lifetime of Pureblood training. Remus pointed at his overflowing bookshelf and Malfoy’s saunter became a constrained bounce.
“It’s always nice to share this with a fellow bookworm,” Remus said, his eyes sweeping over the familiar titles. What would Malfoy be interested in? His gaze fell on an older title. Stars in a Dark Sky: A Philosophical Examination of Benevolent Applications of the Dark Arts. It had taken him a while to find, but the search had been worth it. The book hadn’t been popular, so there had only been one small run, but it was the only book Remus knew of that found positive uses for the Dark Arts. He hesitated—was it an unsubtle reading recommendation? Absolutely, but he pulled it off the shelf and handed it to Malfoy. “I think you’ll find this one interesting,” he said.
Malfoy looked at the title and snorted but made no comment. “You have fiction books here too,” Malfoy noticed and put the philosophy book in his bag.
“I keep all of my books together. It’s easier,” Remus said. It was much easier to find and pack all of his books every time he had to move if they were all in one place.
“You call this a library and this is all you have?” Malfoy asked, staring incredulously at the bookshelf.
“These are the books I care to own,” Remus said, looking proudly at his collection. He probably had close to a hundred books, which was significantly too many when constantly on the move and living pay cheque to pay cheque. Books were expensive and heavy, but he wasn’t going to explain his financial situation to a student, especially one as wealthy as Malfoy.
“I thought you were a bookworm,” Malfoy sneered.
“I get most of my reading material from the library. I’m sure you’ve heard of the concept, smart kid like you,” Remus teased without malice. Malfoy’s pale skin flushed anyways, but Remus couldn’t tell if it was in anger or embarrassment. On impulse, he grabbed another book from the shelf. “I think you’ll like this one too,” he said.
Draco looked at the cover where a group of plaid-clad, blue-skinned pixies waved swords at the reader.
“Is this a kid’s book?” Malfoy asked.
“It’s young adult. Have you read any books by Terry Pratchett before?” Remus asked though he would be shocked if Malfoy had. Draco shook his head. “This one, Wee Free Men, is the first book in a set I really enjoy. Read it, and let me know what you think.”“You’re giving me more homework?” Malfoy asked.
Remus put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey! Nothing like that. Something fun to read when you have the time, a unique perspective on the Dark Arts, and an offer to talk.” He clapped Malfoy’s shoulder. “My door’s always open.”
Malfoy’s eyes flickered with fear as Remus’s hand landed on his shoulder, though his face didn’t shift from his resting expression of bland disinterest. Remus winced and took his hand away, quickly, making a note that Malfoy didn’t like to be touched. For a second he worried that moment had ruined any trust he’d built with his student that night, but Malfoy was studying him with curiosity. “I mean it, Mr. Malfoy. Anytime you want to talk to me about class, or books, or anything else, I’ll be here.”
Draco was already tucking the books into his book bag. “Thanks for the books,” he said.
“What do you know about Red Caps?” Remus asked.
“They look like house elves, but green, and they wear the red hats. And they’re mean.”“They are very protective of the homes,” Remus corrected him without telling him he was wrong.
“Do they actually dip their hats in blood?” Draco asked.
“That’s the story, but it’s not actually true. It is true that they live in locations where blood has been spilled and they will attack anyone who trespasses in their homes.
“That’s why it’s best to be able to identify their warrens. We know where all of them are on the Manor. I haven’t run into one since—that day.”
“So you know what the warrens look like?” Remus asked.
“Like rabbit holes, but more oblong, and they often have brambles and mountain bearberry growing at the entrance.”“Excellent. How would you find one in winter?”Draco pulled up short. “I don’t know.”“Good! Think on it for a few days until our next class. Now let’s see your shield charm.”
Draco slid confidently into a defensive casting stance, wand grasped like a conductor’s baton, his grey eyes fixed on Remus’s face.
“Very good grip on your wand. Your balance is too much on your front foot though. Shift so you have equal weight on both feet, and unlock your back knee. You need to be able to move quickly, and locked legs will hinder you.” Draco shifted to correct his stance.
“Good, now show me the wand motion.” Malfoy drew a large circle in front of him.
“And your pronunciation,” prompted Remus.
“Protego,” Malfoy said, his voice ringing clear in the study.
“Very good. Now cast the spell and hold it, if you can.”
“Protego,” Draco said, also drawing the circle with his wand. While the spell was invisible Remus felt a current of air brush his face as the air shifted and Malfoy’s scent dimmed slightly, to Remus’s relief. Thirteen-year-olds were still learning to groom themselves, and Malfoy was one of the ones who used too much deodorant.
“Hold it for as long as you can,” Remus instructed. He conjured a handful of bean bags and tossed them at different parts of the invisible shield, checking for gaps. Most bean bags struck the invisible shield and fell to the floor, but Malfoy had neglected to cover his feet. Remus got him in the shin.
“A Red Cap would definitely be able to get under there,” Remus observed and Malfoy flushed.
“You do it then, and let me toss bean bags at you,” he spat.
“I suppose that’s only fair,” Remus said with a smile. He summoned the beans bags into a pile at Draco’s feet and wordlessly cast Protego.
“Wait, you’re actually going to let me throw things at you?” Malfoy asked, shocked.
“Why not?” Seems like a good way to learn,” Remus said.
Draco picked up one of the bags and hefted it, hesitating. “This is very different from my sessions with Professor Snape.
“I should hope so,” Remus muttered. He made an effort to be a different type of teacher than Snivellus. A better, more fun teacher, and of course Snape was giving extra Potions help to his godson, while Harry was the one who actually could use the assistance. Remus took a breath and set his personal grudge and loyalties aside. It wasn’t Malfoy’s fault that Snape treated Harry terribly or showed clear favouritism. And he was giving extra time to Malfoy too, though the Slytherin was already third in his class and academically didn’t need one-on-one tutoring.
Malfoy tossed a bean bag at Remus’s shield where it harmlessly dropped to the ground. Draco grinned and threw all of the bags in rapid succession at different parts of the shield. Not one got through.
“Try it again,” Remus said. Draco gathered up all of the bean bags. “I’m going to alter the spell for each bean bag this time, so throw them a little slower, and watch what I do with my wand.”
Draco tossed the bean bags at him with a measured pace, and Remus flicked his wand to make his shield bigger, smaller, tilted at different angles, and then small and targeted, recasting the spell rapidly to block each bean bag that attacked.
“With practice, you can get that kind of control,” Remus said, ending the spell.
“And nonverbal?” Draco asked, his face as eager as a puppy.
“Let’s start with the incantation and practise holding it. Once you can hold it for a minute without effort, we’ll work on fine-tuning your control.”“So tomorrow, then,” Draco asked, all swagger and bluster, just like Sirius.
“There’s no need to rush. Take your time. I’d rather you do it well.” There was a warm feeling in Remus’s chest and he had to stop himself from reaching out and patting the boy on the back. All at once his past caught up with him and he missed Sirius terribly, or the Sirius he thought he knew before the betrayal. His face changed, clouds of misery obscuring his vision. Twelve years and he still wasn’t over the loss. He knew Draco saw the change when the boy made a very small retreat of a single backwards step away from his professor.
He forced himself to smile and mean it. Maybe he couldn’t save his friend from the seduction of You-Know-Who; or James, Lily, and Harry from the fallout; but maybe he could help this child. Draco was barely a teenager and looked older because of the incredible amount of control he wielded over his face, voice, and body language. The poor child. Remus would help in whatever way he could.
“Would you help me feed the rest of the creatures?” Remus asked. He framed it as an entreaty, something that Malfoy could easily decline without feeling pressured, or accept without feeling coerced. How many times had he carefully worded offerings to Sirius in just this way?
“It’s getting late,” Draco said. He gave Remus a polite smile that transported the professor to a stuffy dinner party. “Thank you for the books. I look forward to reading them” His voice was pitch perfect, polite and differential.
“Of course, you should be getting back to your friends. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Malfoy,” Remus said because it was the ‘correct’ thing to say and correctness would probably put Draco at ease. Despite this, he tried to put warmth and sincerity into the platitudes. He hoped Draco would come back.
“Thank you, Professor,” Draco said, bowing his head respectfully and leaving the study. It was perhaps the politest behaviour Remus had ever seen from the teen. He watched Draco walk from the study and listened to his footsteps across the stone floor of the classroom until the wooden door swung open and shut.
“What are you going to do for the hols, Pads?” James asked.
Sirius smiled at James, his warm, wide, crooked smile. The one that made Remus’s stomach flutter.
“I’ll be counting my lumps of coal,” Sirius had said.
“Have you really been that naughty?” James teased.
“You know I have,” Sirius said with a wink. Remus’s hands burned and he gripped his textbook tightly. It shouldn’t bother him when James and Sirius flirted. He knew that. He wished it to be true. “Good old Saint Nick has been bringing me coal for Christmas since I got sorted in with you lot,” Sirius said.
“Why don’t you spend the holidays with me?” Remus blurted. “And my folks.”
“Why do you get him all to yourself? What if I want a piece?” James said, getting up and wrapping himself around Sirius’s arm.
“Boys, boys, there’s plenty of me to go around,” Sirius said, kissing James on the cheek. “There’s no reason you can’t both have me.” He winked at Remus, and Remus felt his neck and ears flush with the intensity of his blush.
“Shhh, you’re going to get us kicked out of the library,” Remus admonished him because it was easier to focus on rules than his body’s reaction to Sirius.
“See, this is why my stocking is full of coal,” Sirius said, but he disentangled himself from James and came to sit beside Remus. “Alright, wise one, teach me that which I need to know for these god-awful exams.”
Later that night as they lay in the dark of their dorm room and Remus was trying to fall asleep he heard Sirius whisper through the dark. “Hey, Moony, do you think your folks would actually let me come spend the hols with you?”
“I’m sure they’d love to have you,” Remus said. Sirius responded with heavy silence. “I will send them an owl and ask.”“Thanks, Moony,” Sirius said, and it was easy to hear the relief in his friend’s voice through the veil of the dark when Padfoot wasn’t able to use the mask of his face.