5

Chapter 5 - A Tired Grey

"Lucius!" she called, reaching out she caught his arm as he attempted to walk past her without so much as a glance.

He halted, giving her such a look of disdain, "Let go of me."

She felt her expression close down. Never, never had Lucius Malfoy ever spoken to her in that way. Sure, she had seen him like this before, but never with her. He was always the gentleman, always doting, courting her with such care and reverence.

That was not how he looked at her now, his sky grey eyes seemed as flat and unappealing as unpolished steel. His apathy, his disgust…

She had never felt so small.

But she didn't let go, three years, three years of stolen kisses, exchanging gifts, promises, she couldn't just let him go.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Let. Me. Go," he said deliberately, each word crawling lower.

Narcissa glared at him, "Lucius, what's wrong?"

So much taller than she, he looked down his nose at her, "Your bitch of a sister had my father arrested. We're done, Black, over."

She shook her head, "What? How could Bella get your father arrested? Lucius, he was working for a dark lord."

"How do you think she knew about him? She's a traitor to the cause. And do not believe for an instant the Dark Lord will not seek vengeance."

She let go of him, taking a step back from him, people were wise enough to walk around them, not between them. "My sister isn't a snitch. And she wouldn't join-"

He stepped closer to her, bending to whisper in her ear but purposely not to touch her. "Your sister is a snitch and a whore. She didn't just believe in the Dark Lord's message, she was warming his bed."

She jerked back from him, her cheeks flushing. Her sister had no impulse control, none. If someone wanted to take advantage of her, they could, that is, if they were willing to be vulnerable around her. Bella was just as likely to hurt herself as the people around her.

And Narcissa didn't have nearly the control over her that Andromeda had had. Andromeda who had left them behind, nearly throwing Bella over the edge.

"You know it isn't her fault."

"No, what I know is that you are just as tainted as she is," Lucius told her, and he walked away.

She stood frozen on the spot. Sorrow, rage, humiliation. Humiliation that she had ever been fool enough to consider marrying such a cad. Rage because she felt sorrow for the loss of him.

She shut her eyes against the day, shutting out the crowd, casting aside her feelings. Taking all that she had ever felt for Lucius Malfoy and stabbing it. She tore through every dream, every plan she had made for their future.

When she opened her eyes, the day felt colder, she felt cold.

She felt nothing. Not sorrow, not anger.

No, she didn't care enough to be angry.

At least, that's what she told herself as she went about her day.

"Mama," Nymphadora said pulling on her Mama's skirts.

"Yes, baby," she said, kneeling to look her in the eyes.

Nym shifted her hair to wispy sandy-blonde hair, her eyes turning honey-gold. "I dreamed about someone like me."

Mama tilted her head, "What do you mean?"

"Someone like me! His mama looked like this," and she tried to shift the left side of her face, but when she looked down at her hand she saw only purple stripes.

"That must have been quite a dream."

"No, Mama, it was more than a dream. Someone looks like me now!"

"What do you mean, Dora?" Daddy asked.

"Someone looks like me," she repeated, frustrated that they didn't understand her. Her hair turned bright orange around her, and she knew her eyes were emerald green.

"Do you mean someone else is a metamorphmagus?" Mama asked.

Finally. She smiled, "We look just the same, but he's a boy. We're goin' be best friends."

Her parents exchanged a smile, and the day seemed very bright to Nymphadora despite the down pouring of rain outside.

Professor Peverell had been living with them for three weeks and the only thing Remus had learned that he hadn't noticed the first day was that he was terribly studious.

James and Sirius wouldn't enjoy that.

The door to the guest room was cracked open and he couldn't help but peek in, he was a Marauder after all.

It was a sunny day and Professor Peverell had the windows wide open, letting the sunlight and summer heat spill into the room. He was sitting at his desk, taking notes from a stack of books Dumbledore sent him. In that uncanny way of his, he turned the door, meeting Remus's gaze.

He froze, thinking for sure he would be in trouble, but Peverell just waved him in.

Cautiously, Remus entered the room and found Teddy splayed on the bed, snoring lightly.

Peverell smiled, and said in a soft but not whispering voice, "Sleeps like clockwork that one. Two to three thirty, out. Eight o'clock, out like a light, Five am? Up before the sun in winter."

"No sleeping in then?"

Peverell smiled ruefully, "I don't think I could if I wanted to now."

Remus smiled tentatively back, it was hard not to be put at ease by Peverell. He was such a mysterious, quiet but quick witted, distant but powerful. It was like he had the demeanor of Lily Evans and the energy of Albus Dumbledore, just standing this close to him, Remus could feel it like a buzz in the air.

He had asked his friends if they could feel other people's magic like that, but they had said only once a witch or wizard got mad. But Peverell wasn't mad, even that day Father had accused him of trusting his son with their secret, he hadn't been mad. Annoyed perhaps, but more it seemed because someone had questioned his parenting, but not to such a degree that Remus would call it anger.

Peverell motioned toward one of the extra chairs, and Remus sat beside him.

"What are you working on?" he asked, looking at the man's handwriting that looked scratchy but legible.

"Your curriculum, these books are terrible, but they will do. I certainly won't be assigning many papers off these books. Perhaps projects where you try out spells and detail to me what worked or didn't. Perhaps...hmm… I suppose we will see what level everyone is at. Did you have any good DADA professors in the last four years."

Remus shook his head, "Our first year professor was pretty cool. She was a retired Auror, but she… well, there was an incident with the giant squid that nobody has really explained."

"The squid? Interesting. But she was it?"

"Yeah, Professor Starborne was the best, everyone else, well, they taught from the books."

Peverell glared at said books as if the had personally offended him. "Thank you. Yes, that will change things then. You don't need me to read a book." He swept his hand over the paper he had been working on, erasing the written words, "Back to the beginning then."

Wandless magic? Remus thought he had seen him do that before with other small things, but this was the first time he was sure of it.

"What were the professors like when you went to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, I didn't graduate from Hogwarts."

"Really?" Remus asked, unable to keep his curiosity out of his voice, "Durmstrang?"

He chuckled, "No, self-taught. My foster parents wouldn't let me attend a magical school. Lucky, I found my parents old stuff, and luckier still that the foster family didn't burn any of it. Which I'm sure they would have if they had known about the old books and wand in the attic."

"Does your wand work?"

"It does indeed."

"But I've never seen you use it."

"You've never seen me in a situation where I would need to."

Remus motioned toward the inkless paper, "But you-"

"I am very skilled in charms, but if you asked me to transfigure a tortoise to a teapot, I would need my wand."

"Oh," Remus said lamely. "Er, how do you, you know, use wandless magic?"

Peverell set down his quill, "It's all about intention and belief." He held out his fist, upturned, and when he opened his hand a butterfly flitted out of his hand.

"That's transfiguration!" he exclaimed, then quickly looked toward the bed where Teddy snored on. "Conjuring is super advanced," he said in a lower voice.

Peverell shook his head, and as Remus watched the butterfly dissolve into light the moment it crossed from the shadows to the direct sunlight. "There are limits to everything."

"Was it hard, being in the muggle world?"

"It was difficult living with my foster family, but-" he looked at the bed to his son, "I can't regret where my life led me."

"What was Aunt Naomi like? Father doesn't talk about her."

Peverell's emerald gaze went distant, and for a moment, Remus thought he smelled jasmine. But he had never noticed that the older wizard wore perfume before.

"Naomi was mass of contradictions. Once she made up her mind, nothing and no one could change her course. She liked to work, but I liked her best when she was relaxed enough to laugh. She had the most beautiful laugh."

"You really loved her, huh?"

Peverell frowned and looked away, "I wish I'd known her better…"

Remus looked at the young boy napping on the bed, and he wondered what it would be like to have a kid with someone you barely had any time with.

"Might I offer you some advice, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus looked back at the professor, "Remus is fine, you are my Uncle you know."

He shook his head, "Says the wizard who hasn't referred to me by anything but professor."

He flushed, "Sorry."

"Remus, your aunt was badly scarred by a werewolf. She was so afraid of how people would treat her she left her family, her home, her entire world behind."

He ducked his head, "People hate us."

"People, suck. The people who would fear you for being cursed are the same people who would watch someone get murdered and not lift a finger. People aren't who you should care about. Anyone who would treat you less than the kind and intelligent person you are, isn't worth your time. Don't let them define how you see yourself, don't let strangers take away your ability to enjoy your life."

"It isn't that easy, you don't understand-"

"I understand better than you know. Shoulders straight, Remus Lupin, where one door shuts, there's a wall that needs to be detonated."

Remus couldn't help but smile at that, no wonder Sirius had like this guy so much. "Thanks." He stood, "Um, if you need anything, just let us know."

Uncle Rell smiled, "I'm good, thank you."

Remus left and as he walked, he couldn't help but square his shoulders.

Shopping therapy, was the best type of therapy, though her mother might disagree with her. Her father, on the other hand, had given her carte blanche to buy whatever she liked.

He had already lost one daughter, and Narcissa thought he was fearful she might do something equally as rash and tapestry-blasting worthy.

He needed have worried, she was done with opposite sex altogether.

No sooner had she thought it then did Mr. Peverell walk into the robe shop. He was wearing hand-me-downs, she knew because the cut was nearly twenty years out of style, but still, he was handsome.

He wasn't as pretty as Lucius, nobody was, but his curly black hair was just as long. Mr. Peverell wore it tied back with a green ribbon resting of his neck, his eyes were an unreal emerald green, framed tastefully by golden rectangular glasses.

There was something so- so unique about him. The day was cloudy, the sky a tired grey, but from the moment he walked into the dim shop, everything seemed to be cast with a brighter light.

He smiled kindly at the shop keeper, who looked immediately flustered and stared down mournfully at the robes she still had to wrap for Narcissa.

Mr. Peverell seemed to understand her deluma, "Take your time, I'm in no rush."

May looked relieved, "Thank you, Sir. You can have a seat or come back in-" She hesitated, looking worriedly at Narcissa, who raised a pale brow at the bubbly brunette.

Again, Mr. Peverell put her at ease, "As I said, I'm in no rush." He turned to take a seat and for the first time saw her sitting there.

Narcissa sat poised, ready for his eyes to flick up and down her body. But he didn't look at her body -well, he saw her, but it was her expression he searched.

"Ms. Black," he greeted with a warm tone, "how are you?"

He took a seat beside her with none of the gentlemanly protocol upheld by their society, but with the distance he gave her, the eye-contact he kept, and general warmth he exuded, she couldn't quite recall being treated with such respect.

"I am well. And yourself?"

"Very well. Classes start in a few days. I overhauled the curriculum, so we will see what the students are capable of."

"As they say, the student can only be as good as the teacher."

He grinned, "Somehow, I doubt that was the case with your own education."

If she had been another kind of woman, she might have blushed, as it was, she gave him a cold look and said, "Don't presume to know me."

He raised a dark brow at her, his green eyes dancing with humor, "You want me to underestimate you? I must warn you, Ms. Black, I paranoid by profession, and such a remark only makes me more wary of you."

Is he trying to be funny? He wasn't truly afraid of her, not like so many people who heard the name Black and turned in the opposite direction, yet she didn't feel like he would underestimate her if it came to drawn wands.

He was such a fascinating conundrum.

"Where is your son, Teddy?" she asked.

"With his Aunt Hope, she's rather taken with him."

"Your son gave the impression he was hard to dislike."

The pride she saw on his face was quite different than anything she had seen before. "It isn't just an impression. I am quite convinced anyone who dislikes my son is a moraless, heartless soul."

"Do you judge everyone by their reaction to your son?"

He smirked at her, and she felt as if she were missing something. "Indeed," he drawled.

"Are you mocking me?" she asked.

He laughed, "I wouldn't dare."

She was quite certain he would dare.

May knocked over several boxes and Narcissa could have cursed her as Mr. Peverell's gaze left her. He stood to help, and she couldn't let him be noble and flirt with the large breasted, sweet-faced seamstress.

"May," Narcissa called, "It's fine, you can tend to Mr. Peverell. I will wait."

Mr. Peverell flashed her another smile, telling her that despite his claims that he was in no rush, that hadn't been the full truth. She had a moment to wonder how often he left his son in other people's care.

A half an hour, Mr. Peverell emerged from the back looking all sorts of dashing. He had chosen simple black robes that had one white strip from his inner collar to his waist. It was a toned down kimono style that had been in style fifty years ago and would be in style for another hundred years.

"Wise man," she praised.

"It's simple," he conceded.

"It isn't good enough for a wizard of your standing," May announced, "Are you sure you wouldn't like to look-"

"If my robes stay in a heap on that desk a moment longer, I will be on way," Narcissa cut her off.

May paled, if she did walk out then that would be a large commission payment lost, more than that, it would be a huge loss of time that she could never get back. May took Mr. Peverell's payment and hurriedly -yet carefully, went back to folding.

He turned to her, "Should I offer to take you to tea?"

"You should," she confirmed, "But I fear I could not except. Not today."

"Well then, I wish you a pleasant afternoon, Ms. Black."

She held out her hand to him, and he obligingly took her hand in his. He laid a soft kiss on her knuckles, all the while looking up at her with laughing emerald eyes.

"Good day, Mr. Peverell."

"Rell," he corrected, "My friends call me, Rell."

She didn't know what compelled her, but she said, "You don't have any friends."

He laughed, "Perhaps you're right, but I would like to be yours." And with that he swept out of the shop, taking with him the light of the sun.

She felt her heart thrumming in her chest, how unusual.