Reveals are up at hp_friendship, so it's time to post here!

Thanks as always to Maggie, and I hope you enjoy this glimpse into Prisoner of Azkaban even half as much as I enjoyed writing it! My prompt was: Anything set during the year Lupin teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. McGonagall reminisces about the boy Lupin, Lupin reflects on his memories of his former teacher, Lupin seeks out advice, the two of them share memories of James/Lily/Peter/Sirius, one of them shares a funny student story or plays a prank on the other ... anything, really. May be happy, sad, funny, angsty, dramatic ... give us a snapshot of the staffs' lives at Hogwarts.

Enjoy!

Five Times a Conversation Between Professors Lupin and McGonagall Ended in Thanks, and One Time It Didn't Have To

iii.

"I know what you're going to say," Remus said as a frowning Professor McGonagall loomed in his office doorway. He'd been expecting her.

He couldn't say he didn't understand why she was there; the day's events did have the feel of running counter to the promise he had so recently made. But the day's events were also not entirely his doing. And he stood by what had happened and what he'd done, and was more than ready to make his defense.

"Four days," she said, stern as ever.

"Yes," he replied.

"Four days ago, Remus."

"Yes."

"Four days ago, you gave me your word that you were going to keep the peace."

"I wasn't the one who lost track of the peace," Remus said, completely serious. Professor McGonagall did not look impressed.

"Isn't the 'he started it' excuse a bit beneath you?" she asked in a frosty tone, looking down at him over the top of her spectacles. Remus crossed his arms over his chest and held her gaze.

"First of all —"

"An image of Professor Snape stumbling around the staff room in a dress, vulture-topped hat, fox-fur stole, and handbag?" she interrupted forcefully. "Professor Snape dressed up, in other words, to the exact specifications of Augusta Longbottom? It's all anyone can talk about, Remus! Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"On the contrary," Remus said evenly, "I've been expecting you since I released my third years thirty minutes ago."

"Remus—"

"Neville Longbottom's greatest fear was going to be the same regardless of any actions of mine, and personally, I think the greater share of the blame here lies in the fact that one of his professors is a third year's—"

"The 'he brought it on himself' defense is also beneath you," Professor McGonagall interrupted again, and Remus set his jaw.

"Not entirely untrue, though," he said with conviction.

"Remus—"

"Professor McGonagall, with all due respect," he said, standing, "what would you have had me do? I can't change the nature of the spell, I can't, in an hour-long class period, change a thirteen-year-old's greatest fear. That boggart was always going to turn into Professor Snape when Neville Longbottom stood before it, and if the spell was going to work correctly, the boggart's image was going to be made to look ridiculous. So what would you have had me do? Deny Neville the chance to face the boggart? Refuse to give him the guidance he needed to perform the spell? I stand by what happened in class today, Professor, and I'd do it again if it meant achieving the same results. I am sorry that there are people currently laughing at Professor Snape, but my first duty is to my students, not my colleagues, and I will not be party to setting them up for failure. I advised Neville on his boggart the same way I would have advised any student chosen to go first. And I chose Neville to go first because he was clearly the most nervous, and that was the surest way to give him a little extra help without calling attention to the fact. Now, if I can help my students succeed and help a colleague save face, I will, but if it comes down to a choice between the two, I will always side with the student. I will assume that the colleague is well able to stand up for himself."

"Did you speak to Professor Snape, then?" she asked immediately, and she didn't sound as if she entirely believed him. "After this incident occurred? Did you find him and give him some warning of what he might face? Apologize for the circumstances that were, apparently, outside of your control?"

"No," Remus said evenly. "I did not."

"And could you have?"

Remus recognized her tone, and he recognized what she was attempting to do. He'd seen it in action countless times over his own school years. But her mistake was in thinking that he'd overlooked this particular course of action. He had not.

"Oh, I could have," he said with a nod. "I even might have, had Professor Snape chosen to act a little differently when he encountered my class entering the staff room."

From the almost imperceptible narrowing of her eyes and tilt of her head, Professor McGonagall had not heard this part of the story. Remus wasn't terribly surprised. He was more than happy to fill her in.

"Had Professor Snape not ridiculed Neville in front of his entire class, I might have found the chance to tell him what transpired with Neville's boggart. Had Professor Snape not tried to discredit a student to a new professor before that student even had a chance to leave his own impression, I might have tried to alert him to Neville's achievement. But seeing for myself exactly what makes Professor Snape Neville Longbottom's greatest fear, I confess that extending him the courtesy of a heads' up slipped my mind."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes and sighed. "Ah," she said, resigned. "Yes, now that I think of it, the incident does have the ring of Remus Lupin justice to it." Remus quirked an eyebrow.

"Remus Lupin justice?"

"I could always tell, you know, when James Potter's treatment of another student crossed a line in your book. You never called him out on it, precisely, but you would ignore him for a period of days. His work in my class suffered whenever it happened, because you weren't reading over it."

Remus was too stunned that she'd noticed this to do anything more than say, slightly irrelevantly, "James never needed my help with his Transfiguration."

"Transfiguration, no," she agreed. "Spelling and grammar, yes."

Remus couldn't help but smile at that. "Yeah, James always did have a tendency toward linguistic creativity."

"He once spelt 'giant' with a j," she remarked dryly. "Granted, he was eleven, but at sixteen he spent a full ten minutes trying to convince me that vampirically was a word."

Remus grinned. "I remember," he said with a laugh. "I also remember how S—"

He broke off abruptly, because the end of that sentence was how Sirius was the one suggesting an etymological link between vampirical and empirical. His grin gone, replaced by a look lined with pain, Remus looked away, taking a deep breath. For one shining moment, he'd been allowed to forget. But it hadn't lasted. They never did.

Professor McGonagall spoke then, back on topic. "Neville Longbottom successfully performed the Riddikulus charm on his first attempt?" she asked. Remus nodded. "And he was the first in the class to do so?" Remus nodded again.

"He was also the last," he said, "and he was the one to finish off the boggart with his confidence and the strength of his charm."

"After Professor Snape ridiculed him in front of the entire class?"

"He said that I needed to be warned that Neville should not be entrusted with anything difficult unless another student was hissing instructions in his ear." Even just repeating the words made Remus's blood boil anew at Snape's petty immaturity, and cemented his complete lack of desire to go make an apology, but — he could tell from the strain on Professor McGonagall's face that this year was proving very stressful and difficult, and that his actions, much as he would defend them, were making things worse. He respected her and Professor Dumbledore too much for that. So someone had to be the better man, and it wasn't going to be Snape.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I'll talk to Severus," he said, but Professor McGonagall shook his head.

"No," she said firmly. "I will talk to Severus. You were merely teaching a spell, and doing so admirably, as evidenced by an unprecedented first attempt success from Neville Longbottom, and I am, after all, of the opinion that you should not apologize if you have done nothing wrong."

Remus stared, surprised, then he smiled. "Thank you, Professor," he said softly. She surveyed him over her spectacles.

"We are colleagues now, Remus," she said briskly. "I think it would be permissible for you to call me Minerva." Remus smiled.

"Again, Professor, I thank you," was all he said.

To be continued. Please consider leaving a review!