A/N: Um . . . well, this is awkward. But my writer's block often strikes at the worst of times, and usually for a long time, and I guess this was the result. Hopefully things will start picking up again now that the craziness of things like Hurricane Irene and power outages and snow in October and a bazillion snow days are *crosses fingers* over. In any case, I really have no excuse for shelving Princess and the Pauper for so long, so . . . yeah, I think I've wasted enough of your time. Here we go, and here's to hoping for less interruptions!

Chapter Thirty-Three

Prisoner of Azkaban

~ Sariah Alycone ~
The first full moon of the school year, luckily, fell on a Friday – luckily for Remus, as there were no classes on the weekend and he could rest and recover from the grueling nature of his transformation – but also luckily for me. I was distracted throughout almost the entire day of my classes, and more than once made a mistake that I was lucky enough to catch before I messed the whole lesson up.

Needless to say, by dinnertime, I was very happy that the day was over.

For the first time, almost as happy as my students.

Dinner was noisy and crowded, as always, but I couldn't help noticing the way the third-years seemed . . . antsy and unusually unhappy. I frowned. And now that I could think about it . . . I scanned the entire dining hall. It seemed almost all the students – except the Slytherin ones – were a bit antsy and unhappy.

It could have been the recent Hufflepuff-Gryffindor match that ended so spectacularly with dementors showing up and causing half the class to run away screaming and ended up with Harry Potter in the hospital wing.

Somehow, though, I doubted it.

Harry was moderately liked, but students were more likely to tease him for his fainting trick than to be all upset for him over it. They had been impressed when he'd managed to hold on to his bewitched Nimbus 2000 two years ago. But fainting and falling off said broom in the middle of a game was . . . slightly less spectacular. Even so, maybe on the Gryffindors might be antsy over it and their loss, not the entire dining hall of the Hogwarts student body.

"I let Severus substitute Remus's classes for today," Dumbledore told me, perhaps glimpsing my face.

I blinked. "Are you sure that was a . . . wise . . . decision?" I asked as delicately as possible. His grudge against the Marauders notwithstanding, I knew Snape would love an opportunity for the students to realize what their teacher was.

Dumbledore didn't flinch from the accusation in my tone. "Everyone else had their hands full," he pointed out. "And Severus is an able teacher."

"I'll bet," I mumbled.

Still, I resigned myself to a handful of unhappy classes tomorrow, all bitterly complaining the unfair maniacal Severus Snape. It wouldn't be the first time. But usually my seventh years had Potions before Defense Against the Dark Arts, so . . . yeah, they would probably need at least half the class to get everything out of their system before we could start working properly. I sighed. At least we're ahead of schedule, I thought gloomily.

Not that Snape would particularly care. We were both half-bloods, but I was best friends with Remus, one of the Marauders, and had encouraged James and Lily. That was two strikes against me right there.

Dumbledore gave me a gentle chiding glance. "Severus and Remus are one the same side," he reminded me. "I'm sure that things will eventually clear their way up on their own. They've never really directly antagonized each other, and Severus handles things quite well on his own. As does Remus. I'm certain they can be trusted to act like adults."

"Professor, you trust everyone to be able to act like a mature adult."

His eyes twinkled. "And don't they normally?"

I reached for my juice and took a long sip, considering his statement. "Only when you get lucky."

"Then I hope to be lucky once again."

I sighed. Sometimes Dumbledore could be even more annoying than James and Sirius combined – mostly because at least with the two Marauders, I could attribute their being annoying to them being underdeveloped and immature. Dumbledore didn't have that excuse. He just went out of his way to be as mysterious as he possibly could.

"Besides which, my dear, could you do me a favor and check up on Remus after dinner?"

I nearly choked on my dinner. "How did you know – "

"You are one of Remus's oldest friends. If you didn't check on him after dinner, I was worried I might catch you sneaking out after curfew."

"I am a teacher, we don't have curfews," I replied indignantly.

Yes, he had been headmaster when I was a student, and yes he had seen me practically collapse after the deaths of my parents. I wasn't a child anymore, though. And I most certainly did not have a curfew.

"The students' curfews, of course," Dumbledore said absently. "Now go on, my dear, I really do not wish to have to put out another advertisement for a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher so soon. Severus is a good substitute, but . . . I do not think it advisable for him to be the full-term teacher just yet."

I rolled my eyes, pushed back my chair, and left the dining hall, heading straight for Remus's chambers.

His classroom was quiet when I pushed the doors open, but I had been expecting that. Transformations took a lot out of Remus, especially as he grew older and the shifts did not grow any easy. Potions and spells could cure a lot of injuries, but werewolf self-inflicted scars were hard. Not to mention that there was almost nothing that could touch the bone-deep ache of having bones broken and reformed, muscles stretched and yanked, skin pulled taut and punctured. Werewolves were dangerous, sure, but definitely not right after transformation.

I pushed open the door to his inner chamber. "Remus?"

"Sariah." He pushed himself up from where he was sitting, smiling tiredly. "Please, come in, it's good to see you."

In spite of everything, I smiled as I pulled up the chair. "Remus, I saw you yesterday," I reminded him. "It's not like we're miles away." Again.

"It's always nice to be polite."

"Uh-huh."

He leaned against the headboard. "But, no, really, it is nice to see you. Madam Pomfrey's been plying me with many potions, and I honestly don't wish to set foot in the hospital wing for another month at least."

I laughed. Remus had never liked hospital wings.

"Professor Dumbledore had Snape be your substitute," I blurted out, finally.

Remus's eyebrow shot up in surprise. Then he relaxed after thinking it over, and gave me an indifferent shrug. "He is qualified, I suppose," was all he said, readjusting himself to lean back in the bed with minimal effort and lighting a fire in the grate with a careless flick of a hand. "And someone does need to teach the students when I'm . . . like this."

I ignored his careful dance and leaned forward. "You had better solve their problems before they come to my class," I demanded. "I refuse to have them walking in all whiny because Snape assigned them a six-foot-long essay."

"Did he?"

"No, of course not." Then I thought it over, and amended, "Well, maybe, they were bratty enough at dinner."

"Oh dear." Remus laughed, helplessly and slightly breathlessly. "Of course we would not wish to upset you, madam," he said, eyes twinkling as he somehow mimed bowing without so much as leaning away from the wall. "I shall take care of the matter and report back as soon as I possibly can, madam."

"Hush," I said, swatting half-heartedly at him.

Silence fell then, comfortable and easy. The ways things always had been between us. It had been awkward, at first, due to the years of no connection or communication, but Remus and I had always gotten along rather well, and it was easy to guess what he was thinking when I had spent so much time growing up next to him after my parents' deaths.

"Madam Pomfrey told me that Harry was in the hospital wing," he said finally. "Mind telling me why?"

I picked at the edge of my chair, trying to figure out how to word things. We had both been close to James and Lily, and we both cared for Harry by extension, although Remus had a stronger presence in Harry's life now because Harry wasn't in my classes. And I knew Remus had saved Harry from a dementor on the train, so . . .

Eventually, I shrugged. "He fell off his broom."

"He's an exceptional flier," Remus returned, crossing his arms. "It wasn't just that."

"Yeah. It wasn't." I fell quiet, remembering the horrible stifling silence of the arena when the dementors had showed up before people had started screaming. "It was dementors. They came onto the grounds for the match. And . . ."

Remus's eyes widened. Then he reached for me, without even asking, and I surrendered to be pulled onto the bed and lean against his comforting figure.

"Your parents?" he murmured.

I simply nodded, keeping my eyes on the fire. If I thought too hard on it, or looked up at him and actually saw the concern I could hear so vividly, then I might lose it, and I hadn't come here to lose it, I had come here to keep Remus company so that he could be back to teaching and recover from the full moon.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

Remus fell silent, now, and I grew suspicious. Normally, he would spend a lot more time trying to make sure I knew that mourning my parents was not a weakness.

"Plotting something?" I prodded.

He nodded absently. "I think . . . I think that the dementors have taken a rather unhealthy interest in Harry. But there's little that can defend against them short of barring Harry from ever leaving the grounds or barring them from coming near him, which they'll never agree to do. . . And we can't exactly follow him around all the time."

"He already is being, what with the Black business," I pointed out.

"We can't be everywhere."

I leaned my head back to look at him. "How did you drive the dementor off on the train, Remus?" I wondered.

"Patronus Charm."

"Can you teach it to Harry?"

Remus's brow furrowed for a long moment. "It's very advanced magic, Sariah."

"Harry is a very advanced wizard."

Remus went silent again, thinking it over. He loved teaching – it was something he had always wanted to do, after becoming an Auror. Both paths had been barred to him due to his lycanthropy, however. But this – Harry needed what Remus could teach. It was a completely different thing than simply teaching the boy in class, though.

"I'll think on it," Remus murmured finally.

"Thank you." I paused. "His broom was destroyed too. The Whomping Willow."

Remus stiffened. And then he laughed. "All right, maybe I do owe Harry," he conceded, laughing quietly. "Of all the things . . . All right, you win, I'll talk to Harry next class and see if he's willing to learn."