The staffroom was thankfully empty; though she knew none of her colleagues would intentionally betray Remus' presence it was easier and safer if they didn't know he was here. Minerva sighed with relief and collapsed into a faded blue velvet armchair.

"There's only half an hour until dinner," she said once she had caught her breath. "We'll wait here till then."

Remus was already fetching coffee from the ever-warm pot.

"Won't she follow us?" he asked.

Minerva shook her head.

"No, she'll think it was a student."

She joined him at the counter top and helped herself to her favourite: Valencia Sprout's homemade raspberry tea with just a smidgen of fresh cream. Beside her Remus was humming softly as he poured his coffee. He was looking slightly better than the last time she'd seen him, though his light brown hair was heavily suffused with grey. It seemed unfair to her that she, despite being several years his senior, had yet to gain a single grey hair. Although, she mused, she'd be lucky not to have any by the time this year was out.

Hogwarts High Inquisitor indeed.

Minerva snorted to herself and then noticed Remus watching her, an bewildered expression on his face.

"What's so funny?"

Cup in hand she sank back into the armchair and filled him in the goings on of the past few months. Looking back now, some of it seemed almost amusing. She would never have believed that one day she'd be turning a blind eye to the rule breaking antics of the Weasley twins and virtually encouraging Peeves to wreake havoc. So much had changed in such a short space of time. Remus listened with interest, his eyes growing wide as she told of the discovery of 'Dumbledore's Army' and Dumbledore's departure from the school. By the time she told him about the fireworks he was roaring with laughter.

"Poor Molly. She'll have a heart attack if she finds out."

"You mustn't tell her," Minerva said firmly. "You know I'm not one to condone that kind of behaviour but really they did a wonderful job."

She took a long sip from her tea, savouring the full flavour of the raspberries. She had very few vices, save for her sweet tooth. Even that she rarely indulged, believing firmly in the benefits of a healthy diet and having absolutely no desire to have lost all her teeth by the time she was seventy. After the stress of today, however, she was making an exception.

"So what are you here to collect?" she enquired politely.

"I'm not sure exactly. Phineas has instructions from Dumbledore. He wants some readings off one or two of his instruments. I think there's some books too."

"And the office will let you in?"

"That's where I need you. Here-"

He thrust his hand into the pocket of his cloak and produced a slightly battered piece of parchment which he passed to Minerva. On it were written two words: Sugar Quill.

"The password..." she murmered.

She felt strangely comforted just holding it her hands. Though it was barely a scrap it nevertheless stood as a reminder that Albus Dumbledore was still very much alive and fighting.

Even if that horrible, patronising Umbridge woman has the gall to sit in your chair and call herself Headmistress.

Minerva shifted her gaze over to where Remus was stood. He had finished his coffee and was humming again. In one hand he held an apple which he was idly tossing into the air and catching. She was glad to see him, isolated as she was from the rest of the Order. Only Snape remained at Hogwarts with her and he was hardly the warmest of souls. The best thing she could do - the only thing she could do - was to tolerate Dolores Umbridge as best she could until Albus returned. It had been a struggle at times. But the presence of Remus Lupin - however temporary - made her feel a little better.

He seemed to sense her watching him and turned to smile at her, failing to notice the frayed edge of the rug he was about to trip over.

"Look out!" she called in alarm.

It was already too late. Remus leapt back quickly to stop himself from falling. His flailing arm knocked the apple from it's previous trajectory and it flew up into the air. Two pairs of eyes watched with growing horror as it arched almost gracefully above their heads before plunging back downwards... straight into the cup and saucer that sat in Minerva's lap.

A fountain of hot red liquid splattered across the front of Minerva's blouse. She leapt hastily to her feet and the crockery smashed loudly on the floor, the noise ringing out loudly in the otherwise empty room.

"I'm sorry," Remus said desperately. "I'm really sorry! Here, let me..."

He pulled his wand from his pocket and used it first to magic the mess from the floor: shattered porcelain and sticky raspberry tea. Then he turned his attention to the deep crimson stain spreading rapidly across the front of her crisp white blouse.

"No!"

Minerva firmly pushed his wand aside.

"What's wrong?" he asked curiously.

"I'd rather clean it myself. It's not the same if you use magic."

Remus raised an eyebrow.

"Minerva, it's exactly the same."

"It's not to me," she said resolutely, folding her arms in defiance and then hastily unfolding them when she remembered what it was they were arguing about.

"Turn round," she instructed.

"Why?"

"Just turn round!"

Obediantly he turned his back on her.

Minerva unfastened her robes, slid them off her shoulders and draped them carefully over the back of a nearby armchair. Then she deftly unbuttoned the blouse, shivering as the cool air hit her skin. She could feel her cheeks growing red with embarassment. She was not used to changing in the presence of anyone, male or female, and she felt distinctly uncomfortable even though she knew her former colleague was not actually watching.

He seemed to have read her mind.

"I can assure you," he said, in slightly petulant tones, "that I am not quite so pathetic as to get aroused by the sight of women's underwear."

Minerva ignored him.

What am I going to do now? she wondered. She didn't dare leave the staffroom without a blouse - even with her robes back on she'd be revealing far more flesh than was appropriate for a school environment.

"Remus..?"

"I suppose you want my shirt now," he said gruffly, though there was an element of kindness in his voice.

"That would be kind of you," she said, rather reluctantly.

"All right... but first you have to let me see your underwear."

"Remus!" Instinctively she folded her arms across her chest. "I thought you didn't get aroused by women's underwear!"

"That was a lie. All men get aroused by women's underwear."

He considered this for a moment as he unbuttoned his shirt, then amended it to: "well, most men."

"Remus," she said through gritted teeth. "Just give me the damn shirt."

"Say please."

"Please!"

"That's better."

He thrust the bundle of fabric blindly behind his back and she took it gratefully.

"I expect I can guess what you're wearing anyway," he said conversationally. "Gryffindor colours, maybe. Scarlet with gold lace. Or emerald green, perhaps. I know you like green."

There was a palpatable silence behind him. Minerva shot him a glare that would have frozen lesser men in their tracks; too late she remembered that his back was turned.

I was wrong. Moody would have been less trouble.

Then she remembered that Moody wouldn't have needed to ask pernicious questions about her lingerie. He would already have been able to see it.

She finished buttoning the shirt and dashed to the sink to soak her precious blouse before the stain set, steadfastly ignoring the man whose clothing she now wore. The same man who stood shirtless in front of her, a teasing smile on his face.

"I've got it," he said smugly. "A tartan thong."

He grinned triumphantly at her.

Minerva flushed bright red, a mixture of annoyance and embarassment colouring her usually pale features.

"If you think for one moment that I would even possess such a thing," she snapped irritably, "then you are sorely mistaken."

Her patience was wearing thin now. She would not have tolerated such remarks from anyone else and she was beginning to wonder why she was making exceptions for a man she'd not seen in over a year.

Remus seemed oblivious to her discomfort.

"A pity," he said. "That was possibly my favourite teenage fantasy."

Minerva whirled sharply to face him.

"Remus, would you please just stop it! It's not exactly a barrel of laughs here at the moment, in case you've failed to notice. I'm under enough stress as it is without having to listen to personal remarks about my underwear, which I might point out is absolutely none of your business anyway! Honestly, you-"

Her words caught in her throat. She was close to tears now and she knew if she started crying she'd never stop. Instead she turned away from him and tried hard to swallow back the lump in her throat.

Not now.

Remus was beside her in an instant, reaching his arms around her shaking shoulders. Minerva usually avoided physical contact, but right now she felt too vulnerable and exhausted to push him away. Instead she allowed him to embrace her, resting her head on his shoulder as he hugged her close.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I'm an idiot. I didn't think. Sorry."

Minerva took a deep breath. Suddenly she was acutely aware of the warmth of his naked upper body through the worn fabric of the shirt. She was starting to feel an answering heat in her own body that had nothing to do with rage, shame or hot tea, and everything to do with emotions of a rather different nature that had been far too long suppressed. Automatically she pressed a little closer, shifting her hips ever so slightly, then remembered where she was.

You are far too old to be carrying on like a hormone crazed adolescent, she reminded herself. Behave yourself, for goodness sake.

Quickly she slipped out of his grasp and went back to see to her blouse, avoiding his gaze all the while.

"I think living with Sirius has been a bad influence on you," she said lightly.

There was silence for a moment, presumably because of the sudden shift in gear.

"Actually," Remus began. "It's more a case of-"

A sudden rattle of the door interrupted their conversation.

Umbridge! Minerva thought desperately. Now what are we going to do?