DOG DAYS → [SIRIUS BLACK X READER]

Chapter Nine

In a daze and with a skip in your step, you return back to the castle after one last fleeting kiss to Sirius, who walks you to the end of the tunnel under the Whomping Willow to see you off; just in time for the Christmas Feast.

"[Y/N], you made it! We were starting to wonder if Sirius Black had kidnapped you; that was an awful long time to take a walk and mail a few pictures." Ron says as you catch up to them at the entrance to the Great Hall, just as they're about to enter.

"It's so cold out too, you shouldn't have stayed out so long- your face is bright red!" Hermione adds, and you consciously move to press a hand to your cheek; feeling just how warm your face really is. Damn it, you can't even blame Sirius for this; you're just as much to blame as he is.

"I had an allergic reaction to one of the birds in the Owlery; rare type of breed, I think. It happens." You say quickly, pushing along the trio of students into the Great Hall, where a lone table sits in the center of the beautifully decorated room. There's only three other students seated at the table, while the rest of the table is occupied by the remaining members of staff.

"Merry Christmas!" Dumbledore says happily as you approach the table, the three 3rd years are already seating themselves, and you mentally groan when you're left having to sit across from Professor Snape with no other seats available. Dumbledore is already diving his hand into the pile of wizarding crackers at the center of the table, while everyone starts to help themselves to the array of food stacked high for the group.

Trelawney enters the Great Hall a few minutes later, declaring that she foresaw herself joining in on the feast instead of celebrating it alone in her tower. As she sits, she looks curiously at the table, a finger going around and silently muttering as she counts heads at the table. "I say, is Professor Lupin not joining us for such a celebration?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," Says Dumbledore, not batting an eye at Trelawney's question. But you do, and the mention of Lupin has your interest piqued. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" Says Professor McGonagall; thus beginning her questioning of the accuracy of Trelawney's predictions. It's a typical conversation topic when it comes to most of the staff; though they'd never admit it outright, only going so far as alluding to it. But there's no need to beat around the bush; it's already common knowledge.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him-" Trelawney bites out with more cheek than you thought her capable of after one too many words of doubt from the other woman.

Dumbledore is quick to interrupt the minor squabble, calmly speaking before they can start once more. "I doubt that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?" You don't realize you've leaned forward to hear his response until you narrowly avoid sticking your elbow in the mashed potatoes on your plate.

"Yes, Headmaster." Says Snape, who sounds annoyed at the mere mention of having anything to do with assisting Lupin.

If you didn't have a reason to be interested in listening to the conversation between the teachers that sit across the table before, you definitely do now. It's said so casually between the two that no one else seems to regard their words with much significance, but knowing what you know, something clicks in your brain at the mentioning of Professor Lupin and a mysterious potion in the same sentence, and you're able to freely read between the lines. You aren't in N.E.W.T. level classes for nothing, and just because it's Snape who's teaching doesn't mean you haven't been paying attention in Potions.

You nearly choke at the realization, and your coughing awkwardly dies off when eyes turn their focus onto you.

Thinking back to Sirius' curiosity at how Dumbledore makes the arrangement with Lupin work, and how not once have you ever heard or seen any signs of werewolves lurking around the campus during full moons, despite Lupin's glaring affliction. The only answer for this has to be the Wolfsbane potion. You aren't even looking for an answer to how they made it work, but it's almost as obvious as it would be if the two members of staff had just said it allowed. To think, you thought you were bad at being subtle. This really takes the cake.

No wonder the Headmaster felt safe enough to add Lupin to the staff in the first place; Professor Snape is one of the only people capable of creating such a powerful potion, one powerful enough to subdue a werewolf and keep their transformation contained. And with Dumbledore's resources, there must be an abundant supply to last Lupin through school year.

You wonder if Sirius has already figured it out, since he's had far more experience with werewolves than you, and surely the potion must've come up once during a conversation with Lupin when they were younger, but you make a mental note to tell him anyway.

"It seems your coughing has returned." Snape says with a sneer from across the table, narrowing his eyes at you. Hell, no. He's not about to hassle you in the middle of Christmas dinner of all things.

"I wasn't aware someone was keeping track of when I cough. Maybe I have asthma."

"Maybe it's from the allergic reaction you were having?" Hermione interjects, sounding concerned.

"An allergic reaction? Are you alright?" McGonagall asks suddenly, obviously worried for one of the members of her house.

Oh, Merlin, this is awkward. Curse you, Severus Snape. Can't he wait until classes start to torment you again? "I went to mail a letter in the Owlery, had an allergic reaction." You explain quickly to your head of house, and turn to look at Hermione. "Yeah, you know what, you're probably right. The coughing is probably because of that."

"Healing is your future area of expertise, isn't it? Shouldn't you know for sure?" Adds Snape; still staring you down. So testy, aren't we? You wonder why he's joined in on such a social event if he's having this hard of a time to refraining from verbally abusing his students to get through it. Dumbledore forced him, probably.

"Are you training to become a healer in your free time, professor?" You pretend to sound interested. "To think, you seem keen on pointing out my coughing in the first place; if that's the case then surely you can tell me my diagnosis?" Sirius is going to have a field day when you tell him about this. You wish you could take your camera out to take a picture of Snape's reaction to retain this moment forever. He looks appalled at your speaking out of term, his expression sour and red with ire as he opens his mouth to respond with some sort of anger-induced jeer under the guise of discipline; maybe even take a few dozen points from Gryffindor just to remind you that he can. But Dumbledore starts talking again before Snape can obliterate you on the spot; this time while holding out a large platter to a small first year sitting opposite him at the end of the table.

"... Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."