Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Nope, not me.

A/N: A few of you have asked me who the Arachniae are. Now, I can't be giving away all of their secrets or it will spoil the plot, but I will tell you this much:

The Arachniae are one of the last real clergies (ie. groups of priests/priestesses) left in the wizarding world. They worship the Goddess Arachne, who weaves the tapestry of life. A lot of their work involves potions and narcotics - many of which are highly illegal. A lot of their work involves matters of life and death - much like the Department of Mysteries. Only on eight days a year are men allowed into Telae Domus (where the Temple of Arachne is situated) and only one of those days - Midsummer Eve - do they drink a potion made by a man, a potion called the Elixir of the Stars. Remus is not fond of them, and he has a very good reason for it, which I'm not going to tell you.

That, in a nutshell, is the Arachniae. They are far more complex than that, but… you'll have to wait!

Keep the reviews coming! I like reviews muchly…

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Remus woke to find himself in a bed in the Hospital Wing. But it wasn't the full moon last night, he thought dazedly, half-expecting James and Sirius and Peter to come bounding through the door at any moment to drag him back to Gryffindor Tower. Sirius would have his violin in his hand because he would have come straight from his early morning practice. Perhaps he might play it, if Remus asked the right way. Remus loved the violin.

"Hello, you."

He sat up gingerly. Did I hit my head? he thought. "What happened?"

A shadow crossed Aemilia's face. "You - don't remember?"

And he did.

He buried his face in his hands. "Sweet Merlin," he moaned. "Oh Aemilia, I'm sorry I inflicted that on you. I'm so sorry."

"Remus, it's okay!" she told him gently, taking one of his hands - still bandaged in scarlet and gold - in both of hers. "We all need to rant and rave and let it out sometimes, and Merlin only knows you have so much more to let out than most people."

"How long have I been out of it?"

"Only a night, don't worry," she told him. "I got Snape to brew you up a Dreamless Sleep Draught. I hope it worked."

"It did, I think," Remus said slowly. "I don't remember dreaming anything, anyway."

"Good," she said.

They sat there for a moment of so in companionable silence. Remus watched the sun rise higher in the sky outside the window. He'd always liked the sun. It was so - so… big… and bright… and while it shone the wolf was quiescent inside him, quiet, sleeping.

"Remus," Aemilia said after a minute or so, "I have something to tell you. I think I'd better tell you this now so it doesn't come as a nasty surprise later. Besides, I detest keeping secrets," she added as an afterthought.

You cannot keep secrets from me, Remus! he remembered her shrieking at him once, but the old wound was no longer open.

"Go on," he said quietly.

"Dumbledore has hired a new teacher," Aemilia said at last. "She's going to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. But - oh Remus, I wish I didn't have to tell you this - she is one of the Arachniae."

Remus felt something freeze inside him. "One of… them…" he murmured.

Aemilia nodded, pressing his hand. "I doubt you'll have to see her often," she told him. "I mean, it's not like you'll be teaching at Hogwarts or anything… but… well, she'll be around. And Dumbledore thought - and I thought too - that you should know. So it's not a horrid shock when you do meet her."

He smiled wanly at her. "Thankyou, Aemilia," he said sincerely, "for being honest with me."

"I owe you that much, Remus," she replied, and he could see verity in her eyes.

"You don't owe me anything, Aemilia," he told her gently.

She shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "Remus… I owe you so much more than I could ever repay."

He could not say anything. All he could do was listen to her as she poured her heart out to him.

"When… when I told you it was over, when we were in Seventh Year," she said slowly, "I had no idea how much I hurt you. How much you were hurting already. I only thought of myself, and not of you. Of how hard it must have been to keep that secret from me. I didn't bother to consider what was in your head when you decided not to tell me you were a werewolf - or how hard it must have been to finally tell me when you did. You were trying to protect me, Remus, but I was too stupid to realise. All -" Remus could see tears threatening to pour over the black lashes, "All I could do was accuse you of keeping secrets."

"Aemilia -"

"No, Remus!" she said through her tears. "Don't you DARE try and take the blame on yourself. Because it's not your fault."

He could feel tears threatening to fall from his own eyes too, but he refused to let them. "Forgive me," he told her.

She smiled at him through her tears. "What for?"

"Everything I've done that hurt you. Every secret I ever kept from you. Everything I've ever done."

She took his face in both her hands. "Remus," she told him, "oh Remus, there is nothing to forgive."

The tears did spill then, running in glistening tracks down his cheeks, over her hands. "Aemilia," he whispered hoarsely, "you are too good to me."

She smiled at him again, wiped away his tears. "Sleep, Remus," she told him. "Sleep, and heal."

*

A few hours later, Remus woke up. The sun outside the Hospital Wing window was sinking - it was almost sunset. Soon, he thought, the moon will rise.

But tonight, it would only be a crescent moon, a sliver of the whole that could drive him to oblivion.

A crescent, Remus contemplated, can either be a sad face or a happy face, depending on which way you look at it.

And living can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on which way you look at it.

He smiled. That sounded like something Sirius would say.

The old wound still hurt. But now… he was beginning to be absolved.

Time heals all wounds, he thought. Time and Aemilia Fudge.

Aemilia.

He felt… he didn't know what he felt. Almost, he thought, as if I had been delivered from some great trial. Almost.

I have been given another chance.

After their traumatic parting of the ways in their seventh year at Hogwarts, it had taken many years for Remus and Aemilia to even so much as speak to one another again. Gradually, after Lily and James were dead and Sirius in Azkaban, and an accident of fate had had them both working in the same place at the same time, they had developed a halting friendship once more.

But the wound was still there, lurking beneath the skin, hiding like the wolf does, waiting for an opportunity to come out.

They never mentioned the way they had split, and that festering gash had led to the corruption of even their awkward, cobbled together friendship. Soon it had descended into sniping and criticism, and all hope of a complete reconciliation seemed out of the question.

Until now.

Now the wounds have been healed, Remus thought, and we can start afresh. The slate is clean and once more, we can write upon it.

There are no secrets now.

He had lost so much. He had lost everything.

But now, she was giving him the chance to gain some of it back.

He smiled, the setting sun bringing out the gold in his brown hair.

This time, he would not waste the chance.

*

Dinner that night had been a much smaller affair. Most of the Order had gone back to Grimmauld Place, leaving only the Hogwarts faculty, Aemilia and Remus.

However, there was one notable exception.

"Where," Remus had whispered to Aemilia, "is Snape?"

He had seen the shadow pass in front of her eyes. "Perhaps," she had said delicately, "you had better ask Dumbledore."

And that was why he was in Dumbledore's office now.

"Sherbet lemon?" the Headmaster offered.

Remus smiled listlessly. "Thankyou," he replied, and took one.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, hands folded across his stomach. "I know why you're here, my boy," he said.

"Why?" Remus asked hopelessly. "Why one of them, of all people?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Because, Remus, they are experts when it comes to defending against the Dark Arts, and we need expertise more than anything else in these times."

"I - I understand, Professor," Remus said. "I just wish it didn't have to be this way."

"I wish that too, Remus," Dumbledore replied.

"It - it just makes me miss her so much," he replied. "There has never been anyone in this world dearer to me than she was. And then… she was gone."

"I won't pretend to completely understand your pain, Remus," Dumbledore told him, laying one of his old hands over one of Remus's, "but I do have some insight."

"Your brother?"

"Yes, my brother." Dumbledore sighed again. "Aberforth and I probably weren't the perfect example of the filial bond, but we loved each other well enough. Suffice to say it was a horrid blow when he was taken."

Remus swallowed. "Can - can you tell me a little about this new teacher, Professor?" he asked. "So I'm prepared, at least."

"Certainly," Dumbledore replied. "Have another sherbet lemon."

Wordlessly, Remus took one.

"She is quite young," Dumbledore told him. "In her twenties, I believe, but all reports say that she is very talented."

"As talented as - she - was?" Remus asked, bitterness creeping into his voice.

"They say that she is the most talented since then," Dumbledore answered. "She has risen high in the ranks of the Arachniae."

"Tipped to be the next High Priestess?"

"Yes."

Remus exhaled morosely. "That's what they said about - her."

Dumbledore smiled gently at him. "I know, Remus. I know."

"What is her name?" Remus asked after a few moments have passed.

"Helena Seraphim," Dumbledore replied.

"I do not think I know her," Remus replied slowly.

"I doubt you would," Dumbledore replied. "She was several years below you at Hogwarts, and in a different house."

"Which house? Not Slytherin?"

"No. Ravenclaw. Aemilia might be able to provide with some details, though several years separated them, of course. I believe Aemilia caught her out after curfew once." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

Remus smiled. "Thankyou, Professor."

"Remember, Remus," the Headmaster told him, "that to talk to someone is to give them a piece of your heart."

"I do know that," Remus whispered. He could feel the tears coming to the surface again. "I know it only too well."

Dumbledore smiled at him. "And remember this also, my boy." He leaned conspiratorially forward over the desk. "It is equally important to - at least sometimes - wear your heart on your sleeve."