The Stars and Forbidden Cigarettes | Professor Remus Lupin

The Celestial Ceiling

"Bloody hell," she mutters under her breath. 

Lupin hears her curse, and smirks as he rests his leg on top of his other leg, picks up a book from the floor, and begins reading. Cool and collected as he may seem from the outside, however, is the exact, uncomfortable opposite of the turmoil raging inside of him, an anger and unsettlement he doesn't understand.

Maybe it was because Reverie and Wood were acting inappropriately given the events within the castle. Maybe Lupin really was just acting out of administrative duty. But, as he scans the words on the page, he knows that it was the way that Wood looked at her when she laughed that grew the irritation he'd already fostered with Reverie into a bubbling heap of resentment, for how could they possibly be more preoccupied with affection and fondness when faced with the danger that they are in, the danger that Reverie had been in, when a murderer had been roaming the castle's walls, right under all of their noses.

Lost in his thoughts, he lets his eyes journey off the page and to Reverie, a meter away from him, who was now lying on her stomach, her hands holding the weight of her head as she reads the book she'd pulled out of her satchel in the dim blue light of the Great Hall.

Lupin notices she's reading Persuasion -- rereading it, actually, but he doesn't know that -- and finds himself slightly surprised that she reads novels by muggle authors.

Reverie had just reached the point where Anne arrives in Uppercross to visit her sister Mary, an excuse to not go to Bath for the summer. Reverie smiles at Mary's lightheartedness, and Lupin can't help but wonder if she'd reached Wentworth's letter to Anne, and if that's what's making her smile, and if not that, he's helplessly curious as to how she would react to the letter if some other undoubtedly less-worthy scene is making her smile now, until he blinks.

He frowns and rubs his eyes and shakes his head to himself, and then reacquires his earlier position, his legs extended and crossed at the ankles, his book held in his lap, and he makes himself sound simultaneously unbothered and annoyed when he says, under his breath, "I'm sure I shouldn't have to tell you to put your book away, Miss Castill. You are meant to be sleeping."

Reverie's small smile fades easily, and she pushes her head onto her right hand as she turns slightly to look up at Lupin accusingly.

"What is it exactly you're doing, sir, and why can't I do it as well?"

Lupin still doesn't look away from his book when he responds "You must know there is a distinction between our positions. I did not believe you to be nearly so obtuse, but then again, I have been wrong before." He flips a page breezily.

Reverie pushes herself up into a sitting position now, eyes wide. "Obtuse? How dare you say that about a student!" She whispers angrily.

"Ah, so you do know the distinction. Very good, Miss Castill," he says, amusedly, as he scans the page. Merlin knows he hasn't truly read a single word the entire night. It bothers him that he can't focus.

Reverie huffs and lays back down on her stomach. She shuts her book. She would risk another detention if she were to disobey -- and it was extremely tantalizing to disobey -- but now she already has one lined up, and she refuses to spend any more time than necessary with him alone. 

With her head in her hands, she stares at the cover of the book, the small flowers engraved into the hand-bound leather cover of the novel, the words Persuasion and Austen on the spine. She pushes it off her sleeping bag, and flips onto her back, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks up at the ceiling, bewitched to show the stars in the sky.

Lupin sees her now, out of the corner of his eye, and he lingers on the top of the page longer than necessary, because this way he watches her eyes as she scans the celestial ceiling, widening as they suddenly stop, fixated on a point, and Lupin is tempted to follow her gaze up and see what she sees. But, out of the corner of his eye, he looks at her instead of the stars, the ghost of his amusement from minutes ago barely lingering on his face, and even in the dim light, he can still see her eyes slightly redden, and he feels the tempting curiosity brimming within him, and then she tilts her head towards him. He quickly flips the page and moves his eyes away, not daring to look, but the hairs on his arms lightly rise as she studies him, and he doesn't understand why.

It's almost comical, really: Lupin's feigned relaxation that endlessly unnerves Reverie, and the strange tension and strain only Lupin knows he feels that bothers him to no end.

She looks at him now but misses the way his foot twitches just once, the way his eyes seem to be moving slightly too fast down the page and then returning to the top to read it again. Maybe it's the dim light, maybe it's Reverie's tired, red eyes, but being tasked to sleep under the stars, these stars, leave her on edge, uneasy, and, looking at him now, the only thing she does notice is the light smell of cigarettes. Her eyes travel to his right hand, holding his book, and she wonders what it would be like to smoke, if it would calm her as much as the familiar smell now is.

His finger twitches now too, almost as if he feels her gaze through his skin, and his eyes still at the bottom of the page. He wonders if she is doing this on purpose, bothering him because she has nothing else to do, but he doesn't dare turn the page because he doesn't want her to turn away, and he has no idea why.

Her eyes travel up his arm and to the fading scar on his face, underneath his eye, and she thinks first if it hurt before thinking he probably deserved it. She wonders if he can feel her eyes on his face -- she almost hopes it's bothering him.

He should hate it. He knows he should hate knowing her eyes are on him, studying him, questioning, most likely loathing. But, he tells himself that anything else might unleash chaos -- or at least whispered, angry yells directed towards him -- and if not engaging means ignoring her, then that's the most rational answer.

But then suddenly, her eyes accidentally flit down to his lips, and she snaps her head back up and stares at the ceiling.

She doesn't notice that his foot twitches again and his eyes fall from the page entirely. She shuts her eyes tightly before opening them again.

"Just because you don't get to sleep shouldn't mean that I don't get to sleep either," she mutters.

His eyes slightly widen as he forces himself to focus on his book, and he makes himself look preoccupied when he answers "No one said anything about not sleeping."

Then he smirks, as he pretends to look confused by something he reads. "Or does my presence agitate you?" He asks.

She groans, and says "You are considerably agitating." But that's all she says, because she doesn't want to give him the benefit of the doubt, and she doesn't want to give away how flustered she is.

He catches himself slightly grinning at that and forces a frown, and when she closes her eyes, he closes his book, and his eyes scan her face and involuntarily land on her lips for two seconds, before he shakes his head, leans back in his chair, and looks up at the bewitched stars. He sees the Plough and the Orion, but of course doesn't know them by name, and he feels just as sleepless as Reverie, for even though there are enough stars to get lost in, every whiff of lavender and vanilla brings him back to the Great Hall, and he hates that he doesn't mind it. 

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A/N: Chapter 9! School is coming to a close in a few weeks, so that's why I've taken a bit longer than I'd planned to update, but once my last few exams are done, I'll have so much more time to write, and I'm so excited! Also, 2K reads??!! That's insane!! Thank you to everyone so much for reading and for voting and for commenting! I love reading your comments -- they make me so, so, so happy! I hope you all are staying safe and healthy! Much love!