five

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The library was quiet - most students finishing off their dinners or sitting in their common rooms with friends - so quiet in fact that every time Wren turned a page in the book she was reading, she practically winced at such a loud sound.

The book she was reading lay open on the table before her, the words 'Potions and Spells for the Dark Arts' etched in a golden twine on the leather front cover. Wren's head rested on her hand, her elbow firmly placed on the wood of the table beside the book. Her other hand was gently playing with the corner of the parchment as she read.

She had been reading for what felt like hours now and her eyes were starting to feel heavy, no doubt red and bloodshot, but she was determined. Wren needed to find some way to stop the burning from the spell on her arm; She felt herself constantly wanting to claw at her skin, only managing to refrain herself from the fear of making her scar underneath even worse.

She let her eyes fall from the page for a moment, moving her arm from where it was holding up her head, and rolled up the sleeve of her black knitted cardigan. A familiar revelio spell fell from her lips, as the gnarly scar slowly revealed itself on her forearm. She watched with self hatred, as the skin on her arm contorted into an almost grievous shape, unflatteringly pinching in points where the scar twisted and turned along her arm.

Wren studied her arm for a moment, wallowing in the hollow feeling that was forming in the pit of her stomach, trying to ignore the rising bile in her throat as her mind was bombarded with unwanted memories.

She almost jumped out of her chair when she heard the doors to the library close with a thud, the legs of her chair obnoxiously scraping against the wooden floor as she rushed to pull her cardigan sleeve down.

She watched as the dark shadow of a tall figure passed by the bookshelves, only able to see the black fabric of a cloak between the gaps in books. For a moment she panicked, wondering if perhaps one of the Dementos had somehow found its way into the castle. Her delusion was broken however, by a low and almost sarcastic growl.

"Miss Winslow." Snape drawled from behind Wren, who spun around in her chair in shock, "Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you."

"Has anybody ever told you not to sneak up on people, professor?" She mumbled, before turning back to face the open book. She scooted her chair closer to the table and tried to ignore Snape, who was still standing beside her with his eyes practically boring into the side of her head. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun and only a few strands of her fringe were free and framing her face, so he could see the professor out the corner of her eye.

She turned to him with a sigh, "Did you need something?"

Most students at Hogwarts, and most Professors for that matter, found themselves to be afraid of Snape. But he was quite good friends with Wren's father, despite being a few years younger, and so had been around often when Wren was growing up. Although he was always verbally absent from what Wren can remember, his ever foreboding presence meant that Wren felt quite comfortable around him. She returned his sarcastic tone and rude countenance where other people would cower and flee.

Snape had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, "I'm not just standing here for no reason, am I?"

Wren made a point to close her book and fully turn her body towards him, letting him know that he had her full and undivided attention. Snape rolled his eyes this time, as he sighed at Wren's childish behaviour.

"I've spoken to your mother." He informed. Wren's mood visibly changed, her shoulders slumping and her eyes darkening.

She wanted to tell Snape to go away, to tell him that she didn't care who he'd spoken to. She wanted to stand up and walk away herself, leaving Snape standing alone in the library. But, despite the heavy feeling that had settled on her chest, she found herself asking, "Is she ok?"

Wren's voice was only small, as she started to pick at the skin around her fingernails. Snape knew that family was a touchy subject for Wren, though he chose to ask her questions nonetheless.

Snape nodded, "She wants to see you."

Wren didn't even take a moment to think, "No."

"She said that you'd say that," Snape said with his usual unimpressed drawl, as he pulled a white envelope out from the pocket inside his cloak, "She asked me to give you this."

Wren looked at the envelope in Snape's hand, her name written neatly on the front in her mother's signature cursive. She hesitated for a moment, her arm faltering mid air. It felt as if her mind and heart were at war, her need to know what her mother wanted to say fighting with the rational part of her brain, reminding her of what her mother had done. She dropped her hand back onto her lap with a thud.

Snape gently placed the letter onto the table, his eyes beady as they scanned over the shut book beside where he had put the letter. He paused as he read the title engraved into the dark green leather cover, his eyes darting back to the conflicted look on Wren's face.

Her brows were furrowed as if she was deep in thought, her eyes downcast at the floor as Snape stood up and straightened out his cloak.

She was forced to look up at him when the rough vibrato of his voice pulled her from her own wandering mind, "Why did Professor Lupin keep you back the other day?"

Wren felt a slight pang of annoyance at him not believing her lie, but she felt too drained to argue back anymore.

"I was telling him about.."

"About how you want to be an Auror, yes." Snape interrupted, his words laced with impatience as he towered over Wren.

Wren continued picking at the skin on her nails as she looked at him in confusion. She knew she was lying, but there was no way in hell that Snape knew the truth. He may be a smart man, but his mind would never go to Wren and Remus having had drunken sex in a pub bathroom, and for that Wren was absolutely certain.

Snape's eyes flickered towards the table beside Wren, "That doesn't seem like a book an aspiring Auror would read."

The innocent and confused façade fell from Wren's face instantly when she realised what Snape was talking about. She felt like screaming for being so stupid as to think that he wouldn't notice that she was reading a very large and very menacing book on the Dark Arts.

"From the restricted section, right?" Snape added, with a small raise of his brows.

Wren racked her brain for an excuse, "I was, was just doing a bit of light reading."

Snape scoffed at Wren's rather pathetic attempt. He picked the book up from the desk, opening it to where Wren had creased the corner of the paper. His eyes scanned over the title of the page, "How to counter a Dark Spell."

'Hm." He hummed, narrowing his eyes at Wren in suspicion before closing the book with a slam as he began to walk away. He left with a dramatic swish of his cloak, looking down on Wren as though she were merely a child he had held back in detention.

Wren's head fell into her hands, her fingers digging into her scalp as they intertwined with the pulled back locks of her hair. Snape stopped just before the edge of the bookcase, turning his head to the side slightly to speak to Wren over his shoulder.

"You could never be an Auror, Wren." He simply said, lifting the book up by his side to gesture to the topic, "It has tainted you, it taints us all."

*

When Wren first noticed the cupboard in the corner of the classroom, she thought that Remus had just done a little redecorating. But, as it turned out, Boggarts were actually quite entertaining.

Wren and Milo could barely stand from laughter when Percy Weasly's biggest fear turned out to be his younger brothers, Fred and George. Wren could see Remus fighting the corners of his lips from curling into a smirk as he watched Percy freeze before the grinning image of the red haired twins.

Oliver Wood's fear turned out to be Marcus Flint holding the Quidditch cup - something the latter found hilarious. Though he soon stopped his cocky laughter when his Boggart produced dozens of small and squeaking rats, running around the room and across the student's feet.

When it came to Milo's turn, Wren wasn't quite sure what to expect. She couldn't remember ever talking to him about each other's biggest fears.

He stood in front of the Boggart with his wand clutched tightly in his hand, ready to aim it at whatever terrifying image took form before him. The cloud of black smoke took a second to choose its form, settling onto the outline of two people.

They seemed to be middle aged, with bright blonde hair just like Milo's. His parents. His mother stood a good five inches shorter than both Milo and his father, faint smile lines etched into the skin around her mouth and the corners of her eyes.

Milo's father had quite long hair, the strands wavy as they fell messily across his head. He wore a thin framed pair of glasses, square in shape and held together by a small piece of Sellotape in the middle. His arm was wrapped around his wife's shoulders, holding her close against his side.

They were both looking in Milo's direction, but they weren't looking at him. If anything, they were looking straight through him, not an ounce of recognition present in their expressions of their son stood before them.

Wren could see the wand in his hand shaking slightly as his hands trembled. She took a step forward, wanting to hold his hand - to comfort him, but was stopped by Professor Lupin clearing his throat.

Remus' voice cut through Milo's silence, "The spell, Mr Shaw."

Milo gave a small nod, as his arm slowly started to raise. His parents looked at each other, small smiles of admiration playing on their lips, before they transformed completely.

The sparks flew from the tip of Milo's wand, encapsulating the couple before him. Milo was now faced with two clowns, bright, curly afros of purple and round, red noses. The clowns linked their arms, before dancing around in circles.

Milo turned to look at Wren with a smile, the pair giggling at the sight of the clowns' awkward dancing. The whole class were laughing too, before silence fell upon them as the clowns were replaced by a familiar menacing cloud of black smoke. Wren took a tentative step forward.

Remus was leaning against his desk, his smile having faded when he saw Wren step towards the Boggart and his eyes watching her small frame with intrigue.

"Imagine it's Professor Lupin," Milo bent down as he whispered to Wren, "Naked!"

Wren shot a glare at her friend over her shoulder, gripping her wand a little more tighter as she suddenly became very aware of all the beady eyes watching her.

She liked to think she had an untouchable reputation of sorts; Anyone who knew anything knew of her family, and most of them feared the Winslow's. If something embarrassing was to appear before her, what would people think?

Wren gulped, as the cloud of black smoke started to take shape. A person, standing 6'4 with broad shoulders and short, jet black hair. His features were contorted into a look of anger, or distaste. A long, black cloak, embroidered with spiralled silver twine, hung off his body. His eyes looked almost murderous - black pools, almost the colour of oil, practically boring into Wren's soul.

Wren froze, staring wide eyed at the man before her as he glanced around the room before settling his gaze on his daughter. Remus looked to Milo for an explanation, but the blonde boy looked just as confused as his professor.

The image of Wren's father took a step towards her as Wren took a step back. She didn't notice he had a wand in his hand till his right arm lifted, angling the weapon towards the ceiling.

Wren could tell that the all too familiar words were on the tip of his tongue, the excitement and anticipation swimming in the soulless abyss of his eyes.

She needed to stop him, but she couldn't bring herself to point her wand in his direction, despite the many times he'd done so to her in the past. Her arm was frozen in place, unable to move from the sheer shock of seeing her father after all these years, even if he wasn't real.

Remus had stopped leaning on his desk, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene before him unfold. He fought with himself over whether he should step in or not, hesitating as he took a small step forward.

Wren could feel the spell covering her scar tingling, her forearm burning painfully under the cotton of her cloak.

"Riddikulus." Wren whispered, her wand still pointing down at the slightly uneven floorboards. No spark of purple light flew from the weapon, nor towards her father. He simply disappeared, materialising into a small grey teddy bear that fell to the floor with a thump.

Nobody made a sound. Not even Milo.

Wren looked to Remus, her eyes meeting his briefly with a desperate sense of pleading. Remus gave her a small nod, one that only she would notice.

"I think that's enough for today." His voice tore through the silence like a knife through paper, "I'll see you all next week."

Wren still stood frozen in place, staring at the teddy on the floor with threatening tears pooling in her eyes. She could just about acknowledge Milo's presence behind her, as he put his hand on her shoulder in comfort.

"You ok?" He asked, in a tone of pure sincerity that Wren wasn't even sure him capable of.

Wren nodded, "Yeah." Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, her eyes still focused on the small, grey bear.

Milo looked to their professor for help, but Remus was simply watching Wren. He noticed the way her hands were shaking, only a small tremble but obvious to him from where he was standing. Her eyes were still slightly glossed over, her skin pale as if all the blood had drained from her face.

Wren took a deep breath, before turning from Remus and the bear, grabbing her satchel and slinging it over her shoulder. She turned to look at her friend and professor who were watching her with intrigue.

"I'm fine." She reassured, all previous proof of panic or upset completely gone.

Milo furrowed his brows, "Wren." He urged her to explain, taking a step towards her in an attempt of comfort.

Wren only took a step backwards. "I'm fine." She repeated, turning her head to look at Remus, "Really."

Remus still didn't say anything, but Wren noticed the way his gaze softened a little when she looked at him.

"I'm going to Herbology." She mumbled, as she took one last glance at Remus before quickly leaving the classroom. Milo looked at the door in partial disbelief - He would never understand how Wren could switch her emotions off so easily, Milo would cry for days over something as simple as getting shampoo in his eye.

*

The soft sound of Wren's nails tapping against the wood of the table was strangely relaxing, her eyes heavy as she felt her head bobbing on her shoulders. She hadn't really been paying attention in Defence ever since the Boggart lesson, trying not to gain anyone's attention more than she already had.

Especially not the attention of a certain mousy brown haired professor, no matter how much she may be craving it.

"Wren?" Milo's hands pushed against her shoulder, not-so-gently shaking her as he attempted to wake her up.

Wren hummed, blinking back the heaviness of her eyes as she turned to look at him. Milo had a smirk on his face, "Sleep well?"

Wren looked around the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to see that the other students were packing up, stuffing screwed up parchments into their bags and pushing their chairs under the desks. Her eyes drifted down to her own parchment to see that she hadn't even written a word, her quill strewn across the table without even a drop of ink painting the end.

"I need to ask Professor Lupin a question." Milo told her, "Stay with me?"

Milo watched as the light brown of his friend's eyes filled with worry, "I'll be quick." He whispered.

Lupin was standing with his back to the room full of crooked tables and chairs, rubbing the chalk off the board with the sleeve of his tweed jacket. Wren was standing off to the side, hoping to be free of her professor's direct line of view, comfortingly rubbing her finger and thumb across the canvas of her satchel.

"Professor?" Lupin turned around with a raised brow.

"Ah," Lupin shot the boy a smile, "Mr Shaw. How can I help?"

Wren watched as Lupin became engrossed in helping his student, reading over Milo's essay on ink splattered parchment. Afraid he would be able to sense her eyes boring into him, admiring the soft slope of his nose and the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled, she decided to busy herself instead with quietly wandering over to the large bookshelf that was spanning the far wall.

Her fingers danced along the various leather-bound spines of the books, each step she took along the wooden floorboards perfectly in line with each other, as if walking on a tightrope. She spun herself around to walk back the other way, but instead bumped into something broad.

"Sleep well?" The same words from earlier reiterated, but this time in a low, husky voice that sent butterflies swirling in her gut. Remus was standing before her, leaning his shoulder against the bookcase. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his suit trousers - the fabric a plain brown to match his jacket. He was looking down at Wren with a smirk on his face.

"Yes, actually." She shot him a sarcastic smile, one in which only made Remus smile wider.

The snarky expression on Remus' face shifted, his brows furrowing as he asked, "Are you ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Wren replied, confused.

"Last lesson." Remus explained with a slight gesture of his hand, "The Boggart."

"Oh." Wren's gaze shifted as she feigned interest on the slight scuff of the leather on her right shoe, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Wren started to walk back over to where Milo was scribbling at his parchment, but was stopped by a firm grip on her upper arm. It was similar to the way that Snape had grabbed her a few weeks prior, though where the feared professor's nails had dug into her skin, Remus was gentle. Unlike the harshness of Snape's grip, the firmness of Remus' hand wrapped around her bicep was almost dominating, butterflies fluttering around in her gut rather manically.

"Do I bore you, Miss Winslow?" His voice was lower than it was before, his mouth so close to her that his breath was practically tickling her ear.

Wren's eyes met with his, a chocolate brown that she was sure she could melt in. "No, Professor." She whispered. She noticed then that they were so close, their noses were almost touching.

Remus' grip on her arm loosened and his eyes hardened, regaining the typical nonchalant façade of a professor. Wren searched his eyes for any flicker of the Remus he was five seconds ago to no avail. He simply nodded his head in Milo's direction in gesture.

Wren made her way over to her friend who was sitting in his seat from earlier, anxiously scribbling away at his essay parchment. She leant over the table, her finger pointing at a word that Milo had misspelt.

Remus couldn't stop his eyes from drifting to where Wren's pleated skirt had risen slightly, the olive skin of her thighs showing through the sheer denier of her tights.

She leant forward more and Remus had to force himself to look away, afraid that seeing what he so sorely wanted would be too much to handle. He needed to forget all about it, all about Wren. He knew that. But he still couldn't quite seem to stay away.

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