Disclaimer: J.KRowling. What more can I say?

Summary: Life is cyclic and there are certain patterns you just can't escape, no matter how hard you try.

Spoilers: Slight spoilers of Book 5, especially Chapter 24: Occlumency. Be warned.

Notes: English isn't my mother language so, if you find any mistakes in my fic or there is something you might want to tell me, don't be afraid of reviewing. I'll accept any constructive criticism and I'll ignore the flames so feel free to send me a review.

In memory of the character who died in The Order of the Phoenix and dedicated to all those who cried with that book.

Some things never change

They're arguing. Again. For Merlin's beard, can't they give it a rest? This thing of being as quiet as I can, pretending to be part of the wallpaper while they are jumping at each other's throats is getting very annoying by now.

Especially because I'm the subject of the argument. Well, that's not completely true: I'm a small part of the reason they are arguing. The other parts are my father, stuff that happened ages ago and mostly, their mutual hatred. But like hell they are going to admit that. If someone asks them, they'll say they're "discussing" (yeah, sure) about certain classes I'm going to take due to recent events I don't want to talk about right now.

But we all know the truth, don't we? Everyone who knows those two is aware of the fact they have wanted to kill each other since they first met at Hogwarts. Come on! That was more than twenty years ago. Can't they forget about it?

Obviously, no.

Anyway, here I am now, pretending I'm not here because that's what they're doing right now: I could have a heart attack in front of them and they wouldn't notice a thing.

For being adults, they're acting quite childishly, accussing each other of stuff that the whole world has forgotten that happened, the whole world but them. I can't help to sigh when I look at them. One is my godfather, my dad's best friend in the world. People always say that they were more like brothers than friends, and it might be true: when one of them was rejected by his own family, the family of the other one practically adopted him, so they became brothers in a way.

The other one is my least favourite teacher at school, the Head of my least favourite House (Slytherin, to be more precise) and his subject is one of my least favourites, too. In short, the truth is this bloke is one of my least favourite persons in the world, along with my muggle relatives and a few others.

So technically this two blokes are, somehow, responsible of me. Ha. Maybe my godfather could be, but my Potions teacher certainly would love to see me dead or terribly injured. I'm not exagerating, it's the truth. You notice when he gives me that special, extremely cool glare that he uses for me only. That glare clearly says he would strangle me with no hesitation if he had the chance. Do you realise now why I don't like Potions lessons at all? No one would if they were me.

Now, my beloved teacher (note the sarcasm) is accusing the Gryffindor of trying to kill him when they were both sixteen, and my godfather replies that he didn't try to kill him but if he had, certainly he would have deserved it for being such a nosy spoiled brat. I feel sick.

'Excuse me,' I say, 'can't you...?'

It's completely pointless and I knew it before opening my mouth, but I thought I could give it a try. But now they have noticed my presence, and even if my godfather looks a little ashamed, his enemy just looks upset. And believe me when I say you don't want to see this bloke upset.

'Shut up, Potter. This doesn't concern you. Let the adults talk, and go to play with your toy broom.'

I can't help it. I never can. The words are out of my mouth before I even realise I have opened my mouth at all:

'Well, actually, this does concern me, because it was my lessons what you were arguing about in the first place. And about the adult thing, none of you is acting like one right now as far as I can tell.'

I can also tell my godfather is mad at me, but like hell he is going to say anything in front of his nemesis. His nemesis, though, doesn't have that problem.

'Of course. Little Potter here has to speak his mind, as if someone cares about his opinions. He's just as arrogant as his father was.'

I was wondering when my father would be named in this argument. Usually, the Potions Master (that's what he likes to be called) brings up the subject sooner than this, and is always with a coment like that. 'Potter, you don't know when to shut up your mouth, just like your father', 'Potter is like his daddy, always has to play big hero', and so on. It seems that I'm my dad's clone instead of his son.

Usually a coment like that is enough to make me mad, but I guess I'm getting used to this. Or maybe the reason I don't react is because my godfather doesn't let me.

'Don't talk about his father like that. You were just jealous of him, of the way he played Quidditch and all...'

Argh. Doesn't he realise that with those words he's writing my name on a gravestone? I still have to face this bloke in class, once the Christmas holidays are over!

The worst thing is that I already know how this is going to end. I've heard it a hundred times before. They are going to bicker about things that happened at Hogwarts, about each other's families, and then the Slytherin will imply that my godfather is a coward because he's staying here, in this place he hates so much because of all the bad memories, instead of going to war, and my godfather will accuse my least favourite teacher of still being a Death Eater, and he'll say that it doesn't matter what everyone else thinks, he knows that he hasn't given up dark magic as he wants to make us believe, and...

Fortunately, before we reach that part the door swings open, and in the doorstep stands a woman you certainly don't want to mess up with. Both men fall silent.

'I can't believe it!,' she shouts, and we all take a step back. 'Your screaming can be heard in all the house!' Well, I'm sure hers can be heard, too. 'How many times have I told you to give it a rest? Especially in front of James! Oh, there you are, dear.' She gives me a smile, before turning to face the other two, her expression becoming a scowl. 'I really can't believe it, two grown-ups behaving like teenagers...'

'Hermione...'

'Ron, shut up. You're James's godfather, and now that Harry has gone into that mission, you're his legal guardian, so act like one! And you, Malfoy, how do you expect to control your students if you can't behave yourself?'

'Giving them detentions?'

For Merlin's beard, Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy should have learnt by now you can't just stop Hermione Granger when she starts giving you a lecture. I know that quite well myself. She just goes on and on until she finishes or until she has no breath left.

I notice that there's someone else in the doorstep, looking slightly amused.

'Remus!' I exclaim 'How are you? It's been a while.'

'Yeah, it's been a while. I'm sorry I haven't come to visit you, but I've been busy.'

'It's okay. Have you got any news?'

'Actually, yes. But,' he looks at Hermione, who is still yelling, 'I think they'll have to wait.'

Now he doesn't look amused, but somewhat resigned. I bet he's seen this a lot of times.

'I can't believe you still behave like you did when we were at Hogwarts! When will you two change?'

Hermione's words are still floating in the air when Remus speaks. Now his resigned look has disappeared, too, and he seems thoughtful and a little sad. He's not looking at Hermione or me as he speaks, nor at Ron and Malfoy. His gaze is lost somewhere else, as if he was talking to the echoes of persons we can't see, lost in memories we don't share.

'Oh no, Hermione' His voice sounds very far away, as if it came from another time and place, and his look is sadder than ever. 'Some things never change.'