"Lupin."

It was so unusual for Severus to speak to him, that Remus almost upset the tall stack of parchment and letters he was trying to gather up. "Yes, Severus?"

"A minute of your time, if I may."

"Of course." He set the papers back down on the table and waited patiently until the last of their colleagues had left the staff room. He smiled and nodded politely at each person who passed him, whether he received a smile in return or was pointedly ignored.

The last to leave was McGonagall, who shut the door behind herself.

"I have a number of things I've been meaning to bring to your attention."

"I'm usually in my office when I'm not teaching," Remus pointed out mildly.

"So is the --" Severus seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say. "So is Black."

"Hmm." Actually, Severus was not quite correct. In theory they were supposed to share office hours as well as the load of planning lessons and grading assignments, but in reality such an arrangement would have soon driven Remus out of his mind, and so Sirius spent most afternoons up in Gryffindor Tower, to the delight of the students and the consternation of those on staff who suspected that to be the case. "I would be happy to come by your office any time."

"I will keep that in mind." Severus looked rather as if he wanted to disabuse Remus immediately of any notion of ever showing up in his office. "Now...."

Remus tried to look extra attentive. He was trying to keep on Severus's good side... or at least his less bad side. Trying to prove it was possible for two former Marauders, a Marauder's son, and Severus Snape to coexist at Hogwarts without blowing the roof off of the place. He thought he had made some progress since the start of the year.

"I've left the first dose of Wolfsbane with Pomfrey."

"Thank you." He knew Severus would rather watch him drink the potion to the very last drop, perhaps following up the bitter taste with an equally unpalatable remark. Sirius, however, hadn't taken well to this idea, and after the first full moon of the school year Pomfrey had refused to have any of their juvenile nonsense, as she called it, in her infirmary. "I will take it right away."

"See that you do."

Remus smiled. He hoped it didn't look more like a grimace.

"Potter fell nine points short of the requirement to join my class. You may congratulate him on my behalf for his near miss."

"Must you be unkind? He really tried."

"Perhaps if he had tried more often over the previous five years, he wouldn't have needed a second chance to fail his examination."

Remus almost retorted, almost said that Severus, too, could have tried harder, or been less inclined to find fault, but he stayed silent.

"As the Headmistress is very insistent, I'm forced to make an offer. Potter may take the NEWTs level class if he also takes the fifth year class over. If work in either class is unsatisfactory, I will remove him from both."

Remus did grimace this time. Harry was not going to be pleased.

"Don't make faces. It is I who am making sacrifices. After five years of tolerating his incompetence, I'm hardly looking forward to having two of my classes disrupted this year."

Remus cleared his throat. "Perhaps... Wouldn't it be simpler, Severus, to simply make an exception and let him take Potions with the rest of his year mates?"

"The ones who satisfied the requirement for enrolling? No. It wouldn't be simpler at all."

Remus gave up. If Severus was determined to make things harder on all of them out of stubbornness, there was no use trying to change his mind. "All right. I will pass your offer on to Harry the next time I see him."

Severus looked at him askance.

"And thank you," Remus added, "for reconsidering his admission." He saw that Severus had gathered up his books. "Will that be all?"

Severus's mouth thinned. He gave Remus a slow, appraising glance.

So there was something else. Something that made Severus uneasy. Through familiarity, Remus knew that when faced with anything that upset his balance, Severus often held something, usually a book or a goblet of potion, in front of his chest in just such a manner as he was doing now.

"You think I'm unkind, Lupin?"

Remus regarded him quizzically. "I think many might say that. I didn't know it bothered you."

"It doesn't... usually." The corner of Severus's mouth curled in a sneer. "But you don't know, Lupin. You don't know just how unkind I can be."

"Oh?" Remus tried not to sound perturbed, but the sharp glint in Severus's eyes made him nervous.

"As unkind to the child of my enemy as to the child of one who was kind to me when he had no reason to be. Perhaps more unkind."

"Hmm. That does sound bad, Severus."

"Does it?"

Remus didn't reply. He was not liking the direction the conversation had taken. He didn't know why people sometimes insisted on confessing things to him. He wasn't up to it, really. What was it about him that invited it?

"I have a task for you, Lupin. A thing so unkind that even I want to wash my hands of it."

"And why would I want it?"

"You won't. But it will be done whether you undertake it or not, and that is why you will agree, in the end."

"I don't understand." Involuntarily, a nervous laugh escaped Remus's throat. "That's nonsense, Severus. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will either agree or decline. You can't know how I will answer. Is it Neville you mean?"

"It is."

Remus waited.

"I came into possession of some books recently. Quite old. Obscure. In one of them is detailed a series of potions which are claimed to have certain restorative properties."

Remus frowned. Surely Severus was not suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting?

"There is no way to test them, as there are no cases similar to that of the Longbottoms. Most certainly the claims are worthless. Even if there was something to it, the passing of so much time ensures that any effect will be minimal or indiscernible."

"Then why would you want Neville to know?" Remus asked, still frowning. Anger twisted inside him. "If you can't resist experimenting, and you can get the healers at St. Mungo's to go along with it, then brew it and give it to them. Why involve their child?"

Severus's eyes glittered dangerously. "A simple solution, yes? Unfortunately, the potions would require many months of preparation. Fresh ingredients. No amount of money would do. The plants must be grown at Hogwarts, and monitored carefully. I know of no one who can undertake such an all-consuming task."

"Except Neville himself."

Severus inclined his head in agreement.

"I won't do it," Remus said flatly.

Severus nodded slowly. "I understand. It falls to me after all, then."

Remus watched him turn away. "Wait," he said, just before Severus reached the door.

Severus paused, but he did not turn around.

"If you think there's no chance it will make any difference, then why do you insist on going ahead?"

"Do nothing, you mean? Let the book gather dust on my shelf?"

"Yes."

"It is not up to me. It is not up to me to decide how this knowledge should be used. What chance there is, and I am first to say that in my professional opinion there is hardly any chance at all, is not mine to either grasp or waste."

"He's just a child. He doesn't deserve this kind of pain."

Severus was silent for a few long moments. "I agree, Lupin. That is why I asked you to tell him. I thought he might feel less pain if it didn't have to be inflicted by me." He pushed open the door. "Do remember the Wolfsbane. I've asked Pomfrey to let me know if you fail to take it by sunset tonight."

"Wait."

Severus was already out and the door was swinging shut, but Remus caught the edge and stopped it from closing completely.

"I'll do it."

He wanted to take it back the next moment, but it was too late. He hated that Severus had known all along what his final answer would be.

"If you're sure," Severus said, not stopping or turning around this time.

Remus watched him go. He sighed.

"Are you all right, Professor?"

Remus turned with a sinking feeling. Neville had paused in the corridor, peering at him with some concern from behind the large leafy plant he was carrying.

It was much too soon. He needed time to think.

"I..." He was going to say he was fine, and let Neville go on his way. That was best. Let Neville spend one more night in peace. "Neville, would you come walk in the gardens with me?"

It was too late to take that back, too. He seemed to be saying a lot of things he hadn't expected himself to say.

"Of course," Neville said amicably. "I was going to the greenhouses anyway."

They walked in silence, side by side, until they were out on the grounds in the unseasonably warm twilight. Remus let Neville lead the way down a particularly nice path, where trees dressed in bright fall foliage leaned low and almost met overhead, creating golden red arches above them.

"Was there something you wanted, Professor?"

Remus looked up, stirring from his unhappy thoughts. They were almost at the greenhouses now. "There is, Neville. I'm just... I'm afraid it isn't a pleasant thing that I have to tell you."

"It isn't Gran, is it? Nothing's happened to Gran?"

"No, it isn't that," Remus assured him. He motioned to a stone bench covered in fallen dry leaves. "Let's sit down."

Neville set his plant on the ground carefully and followed him.

They sat in silence for several minutes.

"The truth is, Neville, I loathe to have to tell anyone things I know will hurt them."

"Is it that bad?"

"It's... I don't even know how to begin."

"Tell it to me plainly, then. That's usually best, and I'm used to bad news."

But Remus didn't see how what he had to tell Neville could be said plainly. The more he thought it about it, the more complicated it seemed. "I don't know that something like this can be told plainly."

"Oh." Neville settled more comfortably on the bench, looking resigned to wait patiently.

Remus shook his head. He really liked Neville. Always had. He wished he could wave his wand and fix everything.

He thought of something, finally, that would let him broach the subject, at least.

"When I was young, my parents tried all sorts of cures for my condition. There was always some new thing. Sometimes I'd let myself hope." He glanced at Neville, who nodded. "None of those ever came to anything. It's hard not to hope, though, when something like that comes along, even if you know there's very little chance anything will come of it."

"I understand. It must have been very disappointing."

"I'm telling you this because... you see, I was asked to speak with you by Professor Snape."

At the mention of his former Potions Professor, Neville's face twitched and paled slightly. Some wounds ran deep, Remus knew. He hated all the more what he had to do.

"Professor Snape found something while examining some old books. It appears to be a treatment for the sort of curse damage your parents suffered. He doesn't think it's likely... that is, he thinks even if there was something to those claims, it's simply been too long."

"Oh." Neville's voice sounded strangled. "Oh."

"I don't know why, but he thinks you should have the right to decide whether to try it anyway, even knowing that nothing is likely to come of it."

"Oh," Neville repeated. His eyes were very round, and he seemed to be staring at something in the shadows around them that only he could see.

"I know next to nothing about potions, but he says they're complicated and need fresh ingredients. You would have to grow the plants." Remus paused. "Do you understand, Neville?"

"Why didn't he tell me himself?" Neville's voice shook slightly. "Why you?"

Remus shrugged uncomfortably. "He told me he thought it would be less painful for you if it didn't come from him."

"He's never liked me. I don't see why he would care." Slowly, Neville got to his feet, swaying slightly. "I understand everything, Professor," he said softly. "Thank you."

Remus watched with a frown as Neville walked away, back toward the castle. He seemed to walk faster as he passed the low garden wall, and faster still as he cut across the empty flower beds, until finally he was running.

Remus sighed heavily, forcing himself to turn away. He saw Neville's plant abandoned on the side of the path, picked it up, knowing it would not survive the nightly frost, and continued on to the greenhouses.