A\n: I'm proud of this so far, and am actually proud of myself for doing something besides a "Remus having a daughter story." Hope you enjoy, and please review. If you do, I'll actually update ;)

Blessings,

Sarah

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, and for the first time recognized himself for what he really was. An 'older-than-his-age' looking man, with light, disguting, brown hair, and gray flecks, and patched up robes that hung to loosely from his thin body. This was not going to work, at all. He felt like throwing up before even standing in front of his first class...Third years. At least they weren't experienced 7th years, or bratty first years...But 3rd years! Pre-teens? 13 year old children with ranging hormones, petty, yet important to them, problems, and serious ideas on how they thought people should look? Ideas, on what they thought people should be?

What their professor, should be.

He would be teaching them Defense Against the Dark Arts, yet, he was a creature he'd be teaching them to defend themselves against.

How Remus hated irony.

All of his life it trailed him like a child trailing after his angry mother, trying desperately to make it up to her. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his briefcase and walked to the door. After opening it, he'd have to walk down these halls for the first time in seventeen years. He'd have to stand up in front of a class, and teach them.

He was terrified.

Later that night, at dinner, Remus was feeling elated that he had made it through his first day of classes, and when dinner was over, he was even happier he made it through his first full day. Standing, and telling everyone goodnight, he made his way back to his dorm room. Every professor had a seperate one. Ironically, (of course, irony), Severus Snape was the room across from Remus. As the new teacher walked along the hall though, his thoughts weren't on Severus at all. They were on the first time he had walked these halls. He had been side-by-side with Sirius Black, and in all honesty, he'd give anything to go back to that. Even though he felt in-human, evil, dangerous, and frightening back then, he realized that now, was worse...And he'd go back to those days in a heartbeat if he could. Taking a deep intake of a deep, musky scent that mixed with the smell of the feist that still hung in the air, he came to the front of his bedroom door. Taking one last look at the hall, he walked inside and shut and locked the tall, worn piece of wood that scraped across the floor as he shoved it back into it's frame. The door was quite noisy, yet then again, all of the doors in Hogwarts were quite noisy.

Setting down his cloak and a mug of Butterbeer he'd taken up with him from the feist, he pulled a chocolate bar out of his stash he'd already put in his wardrobe, and sat on the hearth, leaning against the couch and staring at the fire already burning...crackling and shimmering wildly with yellow and orange streaks. He threw the chocolate wrapper in the flames and savoured every last bite.