Disclaimer: *still practicing hypnosis* I own Harry Potter…I own Harry Potter…*lawsuit appears* Ahh! *breaks trance* I'm kidding! I don't! *lawsuit disappears* Whew…

A/N: Ok, so this was a little bit faster this time, right? This chapter is longer as well, so everyone should be pleased. It was quite hard to write – again, there was a lot of dialogue from the actual book, but I didn't want to rely too much on it. It's hard to get an equal balance. Reviews!

Lisande – I know, I know, it was short. I had a few problems with that chapter. But this one is really long! The actual chapter is words! Thanks a lot!

Akuma Malik – Glad to have you with me again. Sirius may put in an appearance soon, but I'm not making any promises. Thanks!

Ashuri chan – *blushes* Thanks! I didn't think I stuck to the story all that well, but who am I to argue?

Jenna-chan – Yay, I'm so happy that my hypnosis working. Thanks!

Ronda-Silverpaw – *hides confetti, just in case* It's not that I don't trust you, but…anyways, thanks so much!

Lunaris – *stares* You re – read the prequels?! *dies* Wow, my self-confidence just skyrocketed. And thanks so much for your comment about the tower scene – I was afraid it was too corny and sappy; I have a bad habit with that sometimes. Thank you muchly!

Beyond Broken Friendships

By: Moonlit Seductress

Chapter 3: The Dangers of Quidditch

Remus sneezed. Again, he wiped away the rain that trickled down his face. I probably shouldn't be out in this, he thought, watching as the red and yellow players whirled through the storm, diving, turning, streaking by in blurred hues. My immune system is always weak after a transformation. But he would not miss another opportunity to watch the son of his best friend play his father's sport.

It came as no surprise that Harry was a natural Quidditch player. The superb way he handled his broom, the sharp dives and soaring heights he reached…Remus didn't know all that much about Quidditch, but he knew enough to recognize talent. And there it was, a scarlet blob on a broomstick floating high above.

He felt a sharp pang. Up in the air, Harry looked just like James. His dark hair, the team robes, the ease with which he flew. Closing his eyes, Remus drew the well-rehearsed scene from so many years ago. There he was, always in the same position, leaning forward on the bench, his hands clenched, nails digging into his palms as he watched his friends showing off, performing their death defying tricks. Peter by his side, gasping and whooping at the appropriate times, and generally matching Leigh Jordan's commentary word for word. In later years, Lily sat on his other side, her red hair whipping in the wind as she screamed for James to be more careful, voicing the thoughts that Remus had for Sirius.

The view changed. Flashes of pictures assaulted him. Sirius and James wrapped in an ecstatic embrace as Dumbledore approached with the Cup. Sirius saluting Remus with his Beater's club, shooting him a heart-melting smile. Moony and Padfoot chasing each other across the smooth emerald grass of the pitch, pausing to tackle each other, teasing and playing. An older, sadder Remus standing on the top row of seats, wondering what could have possessed Sirius to tell his secret. Sirius on his knees, pleading for forgiveness as Remus stood, unmovable, staring out at something only he could see.

A roar from the crowd broke Remus's thoughts, and his eyes snapped open. Katie had scored again, putting Gryffindor in the lead, up fifty points. A flash of lightening lit up the stands, and Remus stared. Silhouetted against the dark sky was a huge, shaggy dog, motionless in that top row of seats. He choked as the brilliant light dimmed, and his eyes searched frantically for the dog, but it was gone. He passed a shaking hand over his face. Was I seeing things?

He turned back just in time. A hundred Dementors stood on the edge of the pitch, staring up at the players. Remus's mind exploded with the collective thoughts of the evil beings below him. One of us!

"NO!" He leapt to his feet, but he was not the only one. He spied Dumbledore running out onto the sopping grass, pointing his wand at the figure plummeting out of the sky. Harry, Remus thought desperately. Satisfied that Harry was safe, Dumbledore whirled his wand at the Dementors, and his silver phoenix Patronus erupted from the tip, flying at the dark creatures. They swirled away, melting back into the rain and fog.

Dumbledore quickly conjured a stretcher, floated Harry onto it, and headed back towards the castle, the rest of the students following behind.

* * *

"It's not fair, he was only filling in, why should he set us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves – "

" – two roles of parchment!"

Remus frowned. The third years were complaining about the essay Snape had set in his absence, and they were doing an excellent job of it. "Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" he asked, knowing the answer. Even if they had told him, it wouldn't have made a difference. They all started talking again.

"Yes, but he said we were really behind – "

" – he wouldn't listen – "

" – two rolls of parchment!"

Remus smiled at their indignant faces, though his insides twisted. He hoped none of them had done the essay. Snape had set it for a reason – he was hoping someone would figure it out. And that could prove disastrous. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."

"Oh no," Hermione exclaimed. "I've already finished it!" Remus blanched. Of course. Of all people to do it, Hermione would have to be the one. And of all the people who might figure it out, she was the most likely. Pushing away his fears, Remus drew the class' attention to the Hinkypunk he had brought, explaining its behaviour. "Lures travelers into bogs. You notice the lantern dangling from his hand? Hops ahead – people follow the light – then – " He let the wispy looking creature finish his thought as it made a horrible squelching noise against the glass of the box.

The bell rang. As the students scrambled to pack up, Remus called out to Harry. The dark haired boy stood by the desk as Remus covered the Hinkypunk's box. "I heard about the match," he said, leaving out the fact that he was there. "and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?" He had heard later of the destruction of Harry's Nimbus, and he knew the hurt the boy was feeling. Sirius and James had loved their broomsticks almost to the exclusion of their partners – almost, but not quite.

"No," Harry replied. "The tree smashed it to bits." Remus sighed.

"They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to plat a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye and we were forbidden to go near it, no broomstick would have a chance." He winced slightly at the recollection. He had been there when Davey had been injured, and remembered the gruesome scene quite vividly.

"Did you hear about the Dementors, too?" Harry asked, his voice tight. Remus glanced at him sharply. "Yes, I did," he replied. "I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry." That wasn't true – he had witnessed Albus Dumbledore in more anger than that – the morning he discovered that Sirius had revealed Remus's secret. "They have been growing restless for some time…" he continued. "…furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds…I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," the young man replied. Suddenly, he burst out. "Why? Why do they affect me like that? Am I just – ?" He trailed off.

"It has nothing to do with weakness," Remus said firmly, knowing what Harry must have been thinking. "The Dementors affect you worse than the others because there are horrors in your past that the other don't have." Horrors so close to mine…"Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth," he said, not disguising his disgust. "They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can't see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will deed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself – soulless and evil. You'll be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life. And the worst that has happened to you, Harry, is enough to make anyone fall off their broom. You have nothing to feel ashamed of."

Harry was staring at the desk. "When they get near me," he said, voice strained, "I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum."

Remus moved suddenly, wanting to reach out and grasp Harry's shoulder, but he did not. The boy spoke again. "Why did they have to come to the match?" he asked bitterly.

"They're getting hungry," Remus answered calmly. "Dumbledore won't let them into the school, so their supply of human prey has dried up." He thought quickly. "I don't think they could resist the large crowd around the Quidditch pitch. All that excitement…emotions running high…it was their idea of a feast." He snapped his case shut. "Azkaban must be terrible," Harry muttered.

You have no idea, Remus thought, but he merely nodded. "The fortress is set on a tiny island way out to seam but they don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're all trapped onside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most of them go mad within weeks."

He was not prepared for the teenager's next statement. "But Sirius Black escaped from them. He got away…"

Remus dropped his briefcase, but he managed to catch it before it hit the floor. "Yes," he said dully, not really knowing why he was bothering to reply. "Black must have found a way to fight them. I wouldn't have believed it possible…Dementors are supposed to drain a wizard of his powers if he is left with them too long…" But if anyone could do it, it'd be Sirius, he thought, a small smile almost touching his face. He'd do it, just to be different, just to prove he could. And he's done it now.

"You made that Dementor on the train back off," Harry said, sounding nearly accusing. "There are – certain defences one can use," he answered, regretting the words as soon as they left his lips. "But there was only one Dementor on the train. The more there are, they more difficult it becomes to resist." He tried to change his tune, but the damage was already done.

"What defences? Can you teach me?" Harry demanded. Damn it. "I don't pretend to be an expert at fighting Dementors, Harry – quite the contrary…" But he knew the boy would not relent now that he knew. "But if the Dementors come to another Quidditch match, I need to be able to fight them."

Double damn it. Well, I've done it now…might as well give in. "Well…all right. I'll try and help," Remus conceded. "But it'll have to wait until next term, I'm afraid. I have a lot to do before the holidays. I chose a very inconvenient time to fall ill."

* * *

Christmas at Hogwarts, Remus thought as he noticed the glittering fairies Professor Flitwick had let loose in his classroom. He stepped into his office. I never thought I'd be back here again during the holidays, but there are places far worse. He grinned as he remembered Hogwarts Christmases – James waking early in the morning and hurling his pillow at Sirius, crying, "Oi! Presents!", Peter sitting in the middle of a pile of candy, trying to decide what to devour first, and those dark blue eyes that smiled, gazing up at the mistletoe strung about their heads, just as the clock struck midnight. Merry Christmas, Moony…

He watched the snow falling outside the window. Many people were outside – there was a fierce snowball fight near the steps, and Remus clearly recognized Fred and George Weasley in the middle, obviously bewitching the snowballs. He snorted with laughter as a random recollection overtook him.

James had formed a perfectly round snowball in December of their sixth year, keeping it cold in a charmed drawer in his bedside table, and taking it out everyday to make sure it hadn't melted. He refused to answer any questions about it, and kept it until a boiling hot day in the summer, when he promptly whipped it around a corner at the first unfortunate person – who happened to be Sirius. The other had forgotten about it, and he wasn't really expecting a snowball to fly at him at fifty miles an hour in the middle of June, so it was accurate to say he was surprised. There had been quite a laugh over that – Sirius standing there, melted snow dripping off his hair as he shouted at James, who was in hysterics. Even Professor McGonagall had approached him, taking five points from Gryffindor, but congratulating him on a fresh new idea.

Remus turned his attention back to the outdoor scenery, a smile on his face. A couple strolled, hand in hand, along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and he recalled his own walks, staring out into the dense trees, their bare branches heavy with snow. The smile faltered a bit as he glanced at his watch. It was nearly five o clock…the feast would be starting soon. Unfortunately, so would his transformation. He quickly bolted the door, and removed his clothes, a grudging thanks to Snape forming in the back of his head, as usual. The Potions master never passed up a chance to let on that he was only making the Wolfsbane because Dumbledore asked, and it grated on Remus's nerves. Still, he was grateful, since it did help with the transformation. And, it was a blessing to be able to keep his mind intact. It's almost like when I was with Padfoot, he reflected, ignoring the sound of his bones snapping and reforming. He shut his eyes tightly, and the rush of senses overtook his brain.

When he opened his eyes, his point of view had changed. He climbed to his feet and padded across the room, rising on his hind legs to gaze out the window again. He could feel the dull pressure of Moony somewhere in the back of his head, but there were no clear thoughts, only a faint buzzing.

There was a knock at the door. Remus whined, then growled, trying to get whoever it was to go away. Even though he still had a clear mind, he was still a danger – to himself, and anyone who might stumble across him. But the locks clicked open, and Albus Dumbledore stepped into the room, carrying a large tray. He smiled sadly at Remus, who bounded over, licking his hand. "Merry Christmas, Remus," the older wizard said gently, setting down the tray, loaded with sumptuous looking food. "I brought you your share of the feast."

Remus yipped in appreciation, and Dumbledore scratched him behind the ears. It may be a bit demeaning, he thought dimly, but it really feels good. "I am sorry to have you here at Hogwarts for Christmas, Remus," the older man continued. "I know how hard it must be for you, to be here. And I apologize. But castle security is low, because of our reduced numbers, and if Black were to try anything, he might succeed without you here, Remus."

Remus nodded his head, his wolfish amber eyes sad. Sure, I know I'm needed…

…but that doesn't make it any easier.

~TBC~

*singing* Review! Oh, you know you want to! Review! It's the latest thing to do! Oh revieeeeewwww, yeah yeah, revieeeeewwwww, yeah yeah! Boy, I should have a record deal!