Chapter 10
Inappropriate
Christmas was swiftly approaching, and as the fugitive snuffbox wasn’t heard from again, Theresa found herself conscripted to help Filch and Hagrid with decorating the school. There were places to hang decorations where even Hagrid couldn’t reach, and Filch could not ride a broom, so Theresa found herself exploring “ and sweeping out “ all sorts of nooks and crannies near the ceiling of the Great Hall and other parts of the castle.
The second evening after her conversation with Harry, Theresa was returning to her room in the dungeons from one such expedition, she and her borrowed broomstick covered head to toe in dust bunnies and cobwebs, when she met Ron and Hermione on the stairs to the Entrance Hall.
“Wotcher, Theresa,” Ron said, as they started to pass her.
“Hi Ron, Hermione. Where’s Harry?”
“Quidditch practice,” Hermione tossed over her shoulder, making to keep going, but Ron slowed down to keep pace with Theresa.
“Oh.” She remembered something. “Ron, did you say your name was Weasley? I was just thinking I’ve met a Weasley somewhere.”
“I have a lot of cousins, but it’s probably my dad you’ve met,” Ron provided. “He works for the Ministry of Magic’s Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.”
“Hmm. No, I haven’t heard of him, although it’s nice to know there’s one department that hasn’t tried to arrest me yet. Are there any Weasleys abroad?”
“Yeah: my brothers, Bill and Charlie.”
Theresa stabbed a finger at him. “Charlie Weasley. Works with dragons in Transylvania?”
Ron grinned as they reached the foot of the stairs. “Yeah, that’s him. How do you know Charlie?”
“I was passing through Romania, and they were having a salamander problem in the dragon pens. I was the only exterminator they could find who was brave enough to go near the dragons.”
At the foot of the stairs, Hermione started across the Entrance Hall for supper, but when Ron saw that Theresa was headed in the other direction, he hesitated.
Theresa arched a sly eyebrow at him. “So tell me, Ron... are all the Weasley men so handsome, or is it just you and Charlie?”
It was a corny line, but he was young, and she’d hit home. His face turned bright red, starting at the ears. “Oh, well, you know ... if you like redheads...,” he stammered. Behind him, Hermione tutted loudly. “Er, well, are you coming to supper?”
Smiling, Theresa indicated the broomstick in her hands and said, “Sorry, no, I’m going to put this back in the staff room and go get cleaned up.”
“Oh“ I think you look fine,” he said, and his eyes dropped away from her face. He turned an even brighter shade of red. Theresa followed his eyes and glanced back at him in alarm, pulling her robe closed over her Weird Sisters tee shirt, which was a fair bit tighter than could be considered strictly ladylike.
“Ronald!” Hermione said, her voice commanding. He gave Theresa a sheepish grin and turned to follow the girl.
Theresa stared after him for a moment, suddenly very uncomfortable in her own clothes. She had always dressed ... well... boldly, and it had never occurred to her that she was in a school, around all these young boys. Why hadn’t someone said something to her before now? She pulled her robe tighter and turned toward the staff room to drop off the broom.
There were already two teachers in the staff room, and Theresa paused in the doorway when she heard Remus Lupin’s voice. “Thank you, Sibyll, but really, I couldn’t impose“.”
“No imposition at all, dear man!” cried a misty voice. Theresa groaned inwardly. The day before, Theresa had been forced to Vanish a perfectly good cup of tea, as it seemed the only way to prevent Professor Trelawney reading her tea leaves. “In fact, this morning I had a premonition of just this moment, and so I came prepared... .” She produced a palm-sized crystal ball from the folds of her fringed shawl and held it under Remus’ nose.
Remus looked positively terrified. “Really, Sybill, I“.”
Theresa decided to take action. She let the door slam behind her. Both teachers started and looked up to see Theresa drop her broomstick near its cupboard and jog toward Remus, pretending to be out of breath. “Professor Lupin! Thank goodness!” she gasped. “There was a terrible crash in your classroom! Filius went to investigate and he thinks one of your lessons has escaped!”
“My hinkypunk!” Remus cried, and together they ran out of the staff room, leaving Trelawney staring after them with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth.
Remus was quicker than Theresa would have expected of a man in his apparent state of ill health, but she kept up with him easily as they dashed up the stairs toward his classroom. As soon as they rounded a corner, he slowed to a casual stroll and thrust his hands into his pockets. “I think that’s far enough, don’t you?”
Theresa grinned at him. “Didn’t fool you, eh?”
“I keep my lessons locked up in my office, not my classroom.”
“Oh, right. I’ll remember that for next time.”
Remus sighed and shook his head at her, still strolling toward his classroom. “This must be what Minerva means by your ‘charming nature’.”
“Oh? So she’s already invited you to join her lynch mob, then?”
“My first day here.”
She glanced at him. “So what about it? Will you be carrying a pitchfork?”
“I’ll admit to being tempted by the novelty of being on the other side of the torches for once, but ultimately I decided it was best not to encourage such action.” He ushered her into his classroom, shut the door behind them and turned to her, sighing. “What am I supposed to make of you, Tess? You turn up on my doorstep the day after Sirius escapes from prison, you abduct Harry Potter, and you’ve got Aurors dogging your every move. But on the other hand, Harry defends you at every turn, Dumbledore intercedes to get you out of prison, and now you’re doing impressions of James Potter in the staff room.”
Theresa quirked a smile. “High praise.”
He frowned. “How did your arm get torn up last month?”
“I was attacked by a dog.”
“What was the dog’s name?”
She met his eyes levelly. “What makes you think I would know that?”
“Did he keep his powers somehow? Is that how he escaped from Azkaban?”
“I have no idea how he escaped.” She looked at him appraisingly. “If you’re so sure, though, why haven’t you told the Aurors he was an Animagus?”
Remus grimaced and strode past her to his desk. “Because I’d rather not lose my teaching job.”
“Oh, right,” she said skeptically.
He glanced up. “I suppose you have a different theory?”
She walked toward him slowly. “I think perhaps you’re protecting him.”
“Why would I do that?” He looked a bit apprehensive at her approach.
“Because, once upon a time, you cared about him. And I reckon, somewhere deep in your heart, you still do.”
He was silent a moment. “The man I cared about “ the one I considered a brother “ never existed.”
Theresa was just across the desk from him now. “What if you’re wrong?”
“What if you are?”
She met his eyes boldly. “If I’m wrong, then I’ve wasted half my life loving a man who didn’t deserve it. If you’re wrong, then the man you called a brother has been in prison, innocently, for twelve years, when you could have helped him.”
Remus looked away from her direct gaze. His face flushed; his breathing grew labored. Finally, he shook his head. “No. You’re wrong. Sirius deserves Azkaban. James and Lily are dead because of him.”
Theresa folded her arms and dropped her voice to the barest whisper. “How many times will you have to tell yourself that before you start believing it?”
Remus dropped the papers in his hands and gave her a stricken look. Theresa turned on her heel and stalked out of the classroom, hoping she had begun to get through to him.
**********
Severus had never been in the room Dumbledore assigned to Theresa before, having always assumed there was nothing but a broom closet behind that door. He made three short raps and waited. He could hear her moving around inside, followed by a muffled, “One moment, please.”
When she cracked the door open, she was dressed, as usual, like someone who should be smashing a guitar on a stage somewhere, or riding on the back of a motorcycle, though her hair was loose and messy. As soon as she saw Severus, her expression changed from curious to sullen. “What do you want?”
“Theresa,” he said, hoping to mollify her by using her proper name. “I’ve hardly seen you in the last three days.”
She made no move to invite him in. “Filch has been keeping me busy, as I’m sure you know.”
Severus glanced up the hall to make sure they were alone. “Won't you let me in?”
“Why should I?”
“Because certain things should not be discussed in corridors.”
She scowled at him, but then stood aside so he could enter. He glanced around the room as she shut the door. It contained a wardrobe, a standing mirror, a bed and barely enough room to walk around. “This is smaller than your Muggle hotel room.”
“Bit dour, don’t you think, dear?” the mirror said to him.
“It’s cozy.” Theresa turned to face him, her arms still crossed. “What’s so important to discuss?”
“I thought you should know that nosy Auror hasn’t given up. He just left my office.”
Theresa scowled. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing of importance. I’m a man of my word.”
“Oh yes, just ask Voldemort,” she muttered, pushing past him to the other side of the bed.
“He had a bill,” Severus said shortly, pretending he hadn’t heard. “It seemed to be your writing. Advertising a lost dog.”
She paused in the act of lifting a folded blouse from one of several piles on the bed. “Yes, I made them,” she admitted. “After that dog attacked me.”
She was lying. The bill was far too weathered to have been made that recently. Severus gave her a probing look, but she met his eyes defiantly. If he were going to use Legilimency on her, she was going to make him do it openly.
He declined her challenge. Turning away from her, his gaze fell on the clothes piled on her bed. “What’s this? You’re not packing, are you?” he asked, trying very hard to ignore the pile of lacy underwear lying between piles of tee shirts and ragged denims.
Theresa turned back to the piles. “Of course not,” she said bitterly. “I’m a woman of my word. Since I’m staying, I’ve decided to fix my clothes.”
“What was wrong with them?”
She swirled her finger in the air, and Severus obediently turned his back. He watched her distorted reflection in the doorknob as she unbuttoned the shirt she was wearing and pulled the other one on. Her reflection looked like a belly dancer, undulating in the curves of the doorknob, her arms raised over her head ....
“Inappropriate,” she said, her voice muffled by tee shirt fabric.
Severus jumped. “Pardon me?”
“My clothes,” she specified. “Most of them are inappropriate to wear around the students. You can turn around now.”
He did, and watched her examine herself in the mirror. “You’re not wearing that with those shoes, are you?” it wheezed. Theresa tugged at a torn sleeve, murmuring, “Oh, yes, this is the one I was wearing when that manticore surprised us in Aceh ....” She fished her wand out of a pocket in her trousers and repaired the sleeve. Then she waved it again, and several alarming reddish-brown splotches disappeared.
“I seem to recall that you dressed much the same when you were a student,” Severus noted.
Theresa glanced at him through the mirror. “I suppose I’m developing a maternal instinct.” She turned back to the pile of clothes on the bed and selected another top. “Besides, if I ever want to get back in Minerva’s good graces, I’d better start looking more respectable.”
“I don’t know why you’re bothering,” he said, hoping that it wouldn’t discourage her from trying on more tops in his presence. “Just button your robes up.”
She chose another shirt and waved at Severus to turn around again. “I tried that, but Filch has me climbing into the tightest little holes; I couldn’t move at all if I was wearing robes.”
They could hardly be tighter than the shirt she was squeezing into, Severus thought, staring into the doorknob as though it were a crystal ball. She frowned into the mirror (“Is that a top or a bandage, sweetest?”), then shook her head and removed the shirt, adding it to the pile of hopeless cases. “I hope some of these will do,” she said, “since I can’t exactly go shopping without leaving school grounds.”
In her reflection, he could see her bra was scarlet, with a little rosebud in the center ... damn her, the manipulative vixen. “The students are going to Hogsmeade this weekend. I suppose we could go with them.”
“Really?” she said, buttoning into her sleeveless leather vest, which was a particular favorite of Severus’. She looked into the mirror and mused, “It’d be good to do some Christmas shopping. You can turn around now.”
“Hogsmeade has some fine shops,” he agreed, glad that she seemed less angry with him. “I need some supplies as well.”
She raised her eyebrows and gave him a fetchingly innocent face. “But if you’re with me, how will I get your present? It’ll spoil the surprise.”
“I do not require surprises.” His eyes trailed down her front. “And that one is too low-cut.” He turned on his heel and fled the room before she could tempt any more concessions out of him.