"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the first third-round match of this year's Amateur League Quidditch Tournament!" The crowd erupted into cheers and waving as firecrackers exploded on all sides as the voice echoed all over the stadium. "My name is Lee Jordan and I will be your commentator today, for what promises to be a hugely exciting game. First of all, huge thanks to the Wimbourne Wasps for the use of their lovely stadium, let's hope it survives unscathed!"

"I doubt it," said Harry, gleefully munching on popcorn on the bench next to Remus and Severus. "The amateur league is much more brutal than the real one!" Severus began to whisper something in reply but was drowned out by Lee.

"This match showcases the flying talents of two of the greatest academic institutions in the wizarding world, so without further ado, let's meet the teams. Put your hands together for the Royal College of Transfigurative Magic!" Half of the stadium were on their feet, yelling with enthusiasm as seven figures in yellow robes with crown motifs flew onto the pitch. As Jordan called out their names, Remus and Harry clapped politely, noticing that Severus had his hands folded in his lap and his lip curled in disdain. Lupin smiled, wondering if it was wrong to be so turned on by one's lover's killer competitive streak.

"And taking a peek inside the VIP box for the Royal College, we can see the president, Professor Reginald Johnson," the announcement roused some cheers, "and some former students, including Headmistress of Hogwarts, the lovely Professor McGonagall," more cheers and a few wolf whistles this time. From the other side of the pitch, they saw her stand up and fire a stinging hex at Lee. Snape smirked and nodded his approval. "Ow! Sorry, Professor! Next to the Headmistress is Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. As I'm sure you all know, the MLE's team crashed out spectacularly in the first round when they lost to the Diagon Alley Shopkeepers by 280 points to 20," there was more cheering as Kingsley visibly glowered, and a tall redhead in the audience stood on his seat and bowed.

Fred and George Weasley had been the ones to revive the Amateur League Tournament the previous year. Five teams had competed back then, but this year there were a total of thirteen – apparently the attraction of watching your friends competing, instead of a bunch of overpaid professionals, was highly amusing. The Diagon Alley side were by far the most skilled, being coached within an inch of their lives by Fred from his terrifyingly well-customised wheelchair, and ruthlessly captained by George. With all the proceeds going to charity, not even Rita Skeeter had been able to complain about this new source of entertainment.

"Now to stir thing up a bit, please welcome the Institute of Master Potioners!" Remus, Harry and Severus thought they had gone temporarily deaf as all around them the IMP supporters surged to their feet, hollering and throwing home-made fireworks. Snape remained seated but waved his cane regally to indicate his support. This time, Remus recognised nearly all of the names as they were announced. Lee continued.

"And in their VIP box we have Institute Director Professor Michiko Hayashi. Sorry, Professor, Mundungus informs me that no more bets can be taken!" she glared, pointed threateningly at the bottle of butterbeer sitting on the railing next to Lee and mimed pouring another liquid into it. He swallowed and hugged the bottle to his chest. "Beside her is a familiar face to all of those with a sweet-tooth, Meredith Honeyduke; also Vice-Chairman of St Mungo's Hospital, Lazarus Lefevre," they both stood as their names were called, Honeyduke waved his old blue and silver IMP scarf in the air, to rapturous applause. "And just behind them I can see Order of the Phoenix veteran and IMP boy-wonder Professor Severus Snape," despite the scowl Severus was brandishing, everyone in the stands cheered again, amused at Jordan's reference to his status as the youngest ever person to achieve Gold Standard for their brewing skills. Remus placed a hand on his knee in what he hoped was a gesture of solidarity. Snape stared sulkily at it but made no move to pull away. "And just next to him is – good grief, surely he doesn't know one end of a cauldron from another – Saint Harry of Potter!"

There was more tumultuous yelling. Harry flushed bright scarlet at his reception, caught off balance by the unexpected adulation. As the cheering showed no sign of ending, he began to bite his lower lip in embarrassment, until Severus saved the day with a bit of mild teasing. A flick of the ebony wand set a shimmering disc of golden light around the young man's head, making everyone – Harry included – crease up with laughter.

"Nice halo, Harry!" he heard Fred and George bellow from another stand. Harry stuck out his tongue at them both and slumped against Remus while Lee continued his commentary and the focus returned to the pitch.

"Are you all right?" Remus asked, knowing that even after all this time, the boy sometimes got a bit overwhelmed by the attention. He tried to hide the flush of pure pride which swept through him whenever someone acknowledged how talented his two favourite people were – neither tended to appreciate his soppy expression.

"Yes, thanks for the headgear, Severus," he smiled from between glowing cheeks and reached up to cancel the charm himself.

"That Jordan creature has always been a menace," hissed Snape, leaning over so they could lip-read him amidst the noise. "He loves the sound of his own voice."

"Presumably, everyone else does too," interjected Remus, reasonably, "He's the most popular sports commentator the Wizarding Wireless Network has ever had!"

The game began, leaving the three men no room for anything but some enthusiastic spectating. Naturally, the standard of play was not as good as the professionals, but the airborne academics threw themselves into their task with determination, creating a nailbiting game where Potioners and Transfigurants matched each other goal by goal.

The singing of the crowd started off being very polite, as the two sides sang their traditional anthems ('Bubble, Bubble, Bubble, Boom!' and 'Ch…ch…ch…ch…Changes' respectively,) but became progressively less pleasant as the number of fouls increased. By the last fifteen minutes, the chants of 'I'll turn your mama into a toad!' and 'Ooh! Ah! We'll put your eyeballs in a jar!' were the least offensive.

Finally, just as the tension became unbearable, their friend Luna Flintoff of the IMP's Lycanthropy research group spotted the snitch hiding behind the Royal College's left-hand goalpost and made a death-defying dive for it.

"Pull up!" screamed Harry, half a second before she hit the grass and flailed around with her robes over her head, bits of her broom flying in at least three different directions. The crowd held its breath as she struggled to her feet.

"Is she hurt?" Remus asked. Despite a lifetime spent watching his friends survive falling off brooms, his fingers and toes were tingling with excitement and dread.

"Has she got the snitch?" Professor Hayashi demanded of Hardtbrind, who was leaning so far over the railing to try and see, his feet were waving in the air.

Luna lifted her fist in front of her bruised face and slowly opened it, beaming.

Severus threw his walking-stick into the air as the roar of delight rocked the IMP stands and the scores of potions geeks who could go for weeks without fresh air or human interaction began squealing, sobbing and hugging each other. Dark blue-clad supporters spilled onto the pitch as Lee Jordan announced the final score, and up in the Institute's VIP box McGonagall appeared out of nowhere to shake Snapes' hand.

"Just wait until next year, Severus, we'll flatten the lot of you!" she threatened good-naturedly, but with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Five galleons, if you would be so kind, Minerva," the potions master gleefully informed her.

Remus' mouth fell open, though he knew he shouldn't really be surprised. The relationship between the former Hogwarts Heads of Griffindor and Slytherin had been founded on years of fierce rivalry. It was only natural that Minerva and Severus should have a flutter for old times' sake from opposing sides of a quidditch match. He hoped there were no unfortunate forfeits as there had been at school, though. The year he spent teaching there had been an eye-opener in many ways.

There was no more time for reflection as the messy tangle of victorious team-members zigzagged awkwardly towards the stand and crash-landed, still clinging and singing, into the front few rows. Assorted dignitaries collapsed with disgruntled noises as Harry and Remus pulled Severus and Minerva clear of the chaos. Professor Hayashi picked herself up from under the battered form of the massive IMP Infirmary mediwizard-turned-beater, Fairhead, immediately launching her frail body into the group-hug.

The Lycanthropy research group – Team Wolf to their friends – were by far the most outrageous celebrants. Remus and Harry's protests fell on deaf ears, and Severus smirked to see them being mercilessly dragged off to the pub with the jubilant geeks and a slightly concussed Luna, who was asking Harry why his face looked so familiar.

"You OK?" called Remus from Fairhead's rigid grip, knowing that his lover had already taken his fill of excitement and public places for the day. Or possibly the year.

Snape nodded, shooing him away with a flick of the wrist. "Enjoy yourselves," he mouthed. "I'm going home."

…….

It was early evening by the time Remus managed to slip away from the beer-garden of the Singed Eyebrow and apparate to Cornwall.

Though he never took part in any of Team Wolf's experiments, he would pop in every so often to hear about their latest developments, becoming rather fond the bunch of well-meaning oddballs. Some, like Luna, were werewolves themselves, Asif and Roger had grown up watching family members suffer; while Tony had no connection with the condition except for a borderline unhealthy obsession which had almost cost his life on several occasions.

"I can't help it," Tony slurred in his whiny, nasal voice, "I just love watching the transformation. From one form to another in seconds! Such amazing creatures!"

Remus found it refreshing to be with a set of people who can debate the most shameful aspects of his condition over tea and biscuits as society ladies would discuss the weather. Bumping into him one day in Diagon Alley, Asif asked about the affect of the transformation on the texture of his stools, while Roger was thrilled to discuss his brand-new discovery about were-flea tonic over a pint in the Singed Eyebrow. Somehow, this casual acceptance of the everyday aspects of his dark secret made Remus feel more comfortable, not less, as though turning into a raging monster once a month was the most natural thing in the world.

None of them were permitted to supply Remus' Wolfsbane, however. Severus trusted no other – not even Hayashi – for that most important task. Though the taste had not improved since the eighties, Severus would always be on standby with a bar of Honeyduke's Fairy Silk to help the medicine go down.

When Remus arrived at the Gatehouse, the house-elf informed him that Severus was out on the cliffs, so he took a brisk stroll out to find him. The evening sunlight was absolutely glorious, glistening on the sea and tinting the land and the hardy cliff vegetation orangey-pink, while high in the air, a handful of swallows darted around like mad things trying to catch their supper. After the clamour of the day, Remus let the peaceful atmosphere carry him away.

Rounding the curve of the headland, he frowned as he failed to spot Severus anywhere along their usual route. Though he could walk several miles on his bad knee if the mood took him, it was unusual for him to deviate from the little circuit after an exhausting afternoon. Thinking that they must have missed each other, he turned to head back to the house when he heard a small splash below him. Then another. The frown became a grin.

It took Remus a couple of minutes to find the fracture in the cliff face which concealed the way down to shore. Severus would have apparated down, of course, having known every nook and cranny of the area since he was tiny, but Remus did not trust himself not to get splinched through the vicious shards of rock, opting to take the awkward scramble on foot.

The rock pool was in the perfect location for private swimming. Not visible from either the cliff-path above or the sea, few people knew it even existed.

Severus was moving jerkily through the glittering water, using a lopsided stroke of his own invention which would have looked clumsy on anyone else. He reached the edge of the pool and turned, smiling as Remus pulled off his shoes to dangle his feet.

"Hello," he mouthed, bobbing over to greet his lover.

Remus leaned down and kissed him gently on his damp forehead.

"How are you doing?" he asked, as soberly as he could manage. "I'd forgotten how exciting a match could be. I hope you weren't too exhausted."

Severus gave him a small sneer and tugged him forward until he slid into the warm water with a yelp. Taking Remus in his arms, he whispered firmly in his ear.

"I may be older and weaker than I used to be, but I'm not a complete invalid!"

Remus giggled, kissing him again as the water lapped around them.

"Sorry. I worry about you, that's all," he admitted sheepishly, feeling his extremities tingling again, presumably at the proximity of a mostly naked, sleekly wet Snape.

"I know," he breathed, deepening the salty kiss, before pulling back and fixing him with a penetrating stare. "You taste of quick-gin," he complained.

"We were celebrating an infamous victory," Remus grinned, unrepentant.

"Well I hope Professor Hayashi bought a few drinks," he sighed, "She ought to be a millionaire by now."

He pulled away and swam a few more lengths the golden evening light while Remus got out of the water and cast a drying charm on himself. Perching on a rock, he gazed out to sea for a while, absently rubbing at a faint ache in his upper arm, and reflecting on the many contentments of his unexpectedly happy life. As he helped Severus out of the water and into his robe, a sudden thought struck Lupin and he began to giggle.

"What?" demanded the potions master, looking faintly alarmed.

"Nothing," he replied with a snort. He wiped his eyes carefully and took the limping man by the elbow. "Come on, boy-wonder, let's get you back home." Remus exploded into giggles again, collapsing helplessly against Severus.

Snape rolled his eyes at the open sea.

"Griffindors," he muttered.

…….

A's very long N: Hope you're still enjoying this pointless, fluffy fic! Thanks for your generous reviews about the last chapter! I've never written quidditch before, so I hope this worked OK.

'Changes' is a song by the legendary god-like genius Mr David Bowie. How do the Royal College of Tranfigurative Magic know it? I figure that if any rock star is a closet wizard, it's Dave. x

Why the 'Royal' College if wizards don't have royalty? I was reading David Starkey's excellent book on Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII's second queen (out of a total of six, if you were wondering – a very busy chap), whom the public hated at first and called a witch because she had so thoroughly ensnared the love-struck King. In my universe, she really was a witch and founded the college in 1535 in the same way her husband founded the Royal College of Physicians and Trinity College, Cambridge. So there.

Oh, and quick-gin is a bit like sloe-gin, but gets to work much faster. Hee.