Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, events and/or places that are recognized as being written and created by J.K. Rowling. J.K. Rowling owns all the characters and places from the Harry Potter books including the ones used in this story.

A/N: Sorry it took a little longer to update this than usual. I'm all done with school so, more time to write.

freakin-person: Your sisters were funny!

citcat299: thanks for the criticism, but if you keep reading (I'm not sure) but I think I gave Clea plenty of faults and ridded her of MarySue-isms. Maybe I'm wrong, oh well. Alot of people commented on that one line; I just put it in there to explain what she looked like and get it out of the way.

Chapter Monster Nianko: I agree with you about "the Clea crybaby" situation. I'm trying to curb that, but...I watch to many soap operas! lol!

Thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed!! Luv ya!!! :D

&&

"Will you just listen? You can't do this!"

Snape shook his head at Clea, as his long, bony fingers reached under his robes, hesitantly pulling his wand out. He twirled it in between his pointer and middle fingers, pondering his words. Finally, his motions stopped and the tip of his wand prodded Clea's stomache.

"Don't make me hurt you, Cleopatra; move."

Clea stood in front of Snape. Hands clutching the frame of his office door, arms locked straight out; and her eyes, never blinking, threatening Snape to make his move.

"I'm not going to let you do this," she whispered, her voice low and husky. "You're being childish."

It was true. Snape knew it too, but he would never admit it.

This whole day was annoying her. Every little thing made her want to rip someone's head off. It was because of her feelings for Remus.

She was happy that they finally got closer, to being back together. But, on the other hand, she felt ashamed for being happy because Remus wasn't off in his room being happy; he was in agony, and not quite human at the moment.

Clea and Remus stayed with each other until minutes before the moon rose. Clea didn't want to let him go. But, she could feel his blood rushing through his veins, and the soft moans that escaped from his lips while she kissed him were not from pleasure.

She helped him to his office; he almost fainted from the dizzy pain pulsating through his body. Remus gave her one last small smile, and a soft kiss, before he locked himself inside.

Clea stood outside his office for the remaining half an hour. Finally she heard him transforming and she felt sick.

She ran to her room, hid her head under her pillow, and refused to acknowledge the silver face shining behind her window drapes, taunting her.

Remus asked Clea, before they left her office, if she would take over his classes while he was incapacitated. Clea naturally did not refuse, but sleeping through breakfast, and rushing hastily off to her own class, prevented her from speaking to Dumbledore in the morning.

On the way to Dumbledore's office to get permission to substitute for Remus, McGonagall stopped her and informed her that, this morning, Snape got permission to take over. Clea's heart stopped. Snape hated Remus more than ever at the moment; and Clea knew that Snape would do anything to get Remus fired.

Clea glared at Snape from her spot as a mock door, desperately trying to prevent him from causing trouble.

Her eyes swallowed up everything about him. The skin around his nose and forehead were glistening with sticky perspiration, his cheeks paler than usual. His hair, weighed down by its greasy texture hung in limp tendrils around his face, competing to be blacker than his eyes.

Clea felt hypnotized.

"Why are you staring at me?" Snape hissed, uncomfortably.

Clea blinked, and wobbled. She straightened once again and resumed her glare.

"I'm not staring," she snapped. "Now, you're going to stay here in your office, and I'm going to go teach Remus's class; and that is the final decision."

"Who's final decision?"

"Who's…? It's the final decision. It's the decision that is destined to be final!"

Snape laughed in the back of this throat and shook his head. "Move, Cleopatra."

"No," Clea said, matter-of-factly. She stuck her nose in the air, and gazed up at Snape. What was he going to do, she thought; hex her?

Suddenly, Clea's arms fell to her side and her shaking body leaned forward against Snape's. She strained to contain the squeals escaping from her mouth, ruining her pompous, strictly-business attitude.

"Stop!" Clea screamed, her head banging against Snape's chest. She couldn't hold it in any longer. She covered her mouth with her hands, stifling the high-pitch laugher streaming out of it. "Severus!" Clea giggled.

Snape's fingers ran up and down Clea's side. His face still fowl looking, and miserable, but with a slight pull at the corner of his lips.

Wrapping his arms around the gasping Clea, Snape picked her off the ground and put her back down behind him; away from the door. Snape bowed his head slightly at her, before dashing out of the office.

Clea spun around on her heels to face Snape and the door, a smile plastered across her face, and all thoughts of saving Remus's job vanishing.

"Sever….Ugh!" Clea sprang towards the door and grabbed the tip of Snape's robes that were billowing out from the back. Clea pulled hard, sliding across the floor. "Come back here," she said, through clenched teeth.

"Stop that," Snape said, trying to pull his robes out of Clea's grip. Clea bent her knees and straightened again while taking in the biggest breath. She used all her strength to pull Snape back into his office with one last tug.

Clea slammed the door behind them, and threw her body up against it. "Severus, I can't let you substitute for Remus. You're clinically insane if you think that I am going to stand aside and watch you just walk in to his class and allude to the fact that he's a werewolf."

Snape opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. "Why do you think I would do that?" he asked slowly.

"More like 'how do you know I'm going to do that', right?" Clea smirked. She couldn't help it. "I know you Severus, remember? That is your little plan isn't it? Inform his students about werewolves in the hope that one of them recognizes the signs in Remus. It is clever, I'll give you that much."

Snape's hand shot for the door handle, but Clea grabbed it as soon as the pad of his finger brushed over the metal. "You're not going anywhere," Clea said, as she started digging her fingers into Snape's palm. "I'll be teaching Defense against the Dark Arts today."

"Well, then I assume you have gotten permission from Dumbledore?" Snape asked. His eyes drove themselves into Clea's face, watching for them to widen with realization. "You do know that you need the Headmaster's permission to take over another class, correct?"

Clea blinked slowly, and laughed. "Of course I have Dumbledore's permission. He told me that it was a wonderful idea for me to take over while Remus is sick…because Remus and I are so close."

Snape's face became slightly sourer for a moment, in response to Clea's eyelash flutter when she said the last part of her sentence. "Then, I could call him here right now, so he can confirm your story for me."

A loud swallow was all Clea could manage before she broke down. "Ugh! All right! I never talked to him," she shouted angrily; more at her inability to hold on to a lie than at Snape.

"That's unfortunate," Snape said, gently pushing Clea out of his way. "Have a nice afternoon, Cleopatra."

The creaking from the door handle grated on Clea's ear drums. She ran her fingers through her hair, outwardly accepting fate. "Just…just stick to the lesson plans," she sighed.

"I'll try." Snape's silky voice was swimming in sarcasm.

Clea launched herself at Snape. Her hands gripped around his frail, skinny forearms and pulled him backwards. "Ok, I can't let you do this," Clea said frantically. Snape sighed and dropped his arms limply to their sides. "Remus needs all the help he can get, Severus. You know very well that he has trouble finding work. He can't afford to lose his job; or have anything worse happen to him. If people find out what he is, they'll try to hurt him. Not that you'd care."

"I don't want to hurt Lupin," Snape grumbled. "If I wanted to do something to him, I would have poisoned his Wolfsbane."

"Don't get any ideas," Clea shouted. Her hands clenched nervously around Snape's arms.

"Cleopatra," Snape said, as he ripped his arms out of Clea's hands. He turned around to face her. He was so close that Clea's rising and falling chest brushed against his own. "You do not have the Headmaster's permission to take over for Remus; I do. If you insist on continuing to prevent me from doing my job, I will have to report you to Dumbledore."

Clea closed her eyes. That was just like Snape. Threaten with tattletales; and it always worked. She hated the man in front of her; but not as much as she was about to hate herself.

"Isn't there some sort of deal,-" Clea said softly and low, running her right hand up the front of Snape's robes-"we can make? If you let me substitute Remus's class, and you forget all about your little plan…I'll let you do…whatever."

Snape raised an eyebrow at Clea, as she seductively licked her lips and jerked her head so that her bangs would fall teasingly over her right eye. "Whatever…?" he whispered.

Rising up on her toes, Clea brushed her nose against Snape's. "Whatever," she whispered back.

Clea's mouth puckered around Snape's, which was hanging slightly open. Her arms wrapped comfortably around his neck, and she felt his hands hovering around her waist.

It wasn't until she felt her tongue circling around something that curiously felt like another tongue and a small pleasurable sound coming from the other set of lips, that Clea's brain started working again.

Suddenly Clea had the intense urge to vomit. She pulled back, her hands immediately clasped over her mouth.

Snape leaned back against the door, looking twisted and smug.

Clea spun around and moved her hands to her chest. "I'm evil," she breathed out. "I'm…I'm evil." Clea turned back around to face Snape. "I'm evil," Clea shouted in a high pitched voice.

Clea's head flew around the room, searching for Snape; he wasn't there. Clea's eyes finally rested on the opened office door. She stepped out of it and into the hallway, just making out the bottom of Snape's robes turning the corner.

"Now I know why I was in Slytherin…why my mother didn't hate me as much as she hated Sirius," Clea said to herself, still staring down the empty hallway. "They knew! The hat. My mum. They knew it. I'm evil; pure evil!"

"Why do you think you're evil?" asked the faint voice of the dark grey haired woman leaning up against the frame of her painting, which was hanging on the wall outside Snape's office.

Clea's mouth dropped and she stared at the woman dumbfounded; as if she was supposed to know everything that just happened. "What you do you mean why do I think I'm evil? Remus! That's why! I love Remus and there I was…with Snape!" Clea pointed back into the room.

The woman in the painting rolled her eyes, and muttered something about young love.

"I was trying to do something nice for Remus," Clea continued. She moved back closer to Snape's office, and leaned her head against the wall as she peered into it. "I was trying to help Remus. Instead I stood there, the entire time, magnetized to Severus's every movement and thinking…horrible, disgusting thoughts. I love Remus; and all I do is hurt him. That makes me evil!"

Sighing loudly, Clea waved her wand closing Snape's office's door, and stepped into the middle of the hallway. "On top of being evil…I'm also talking to myself."

Clea started to make her way down the hall. She stopped suddenly and furrowed her eyebrows. "And where did he learn to kiss like that!?" she shouted, not carrying if anyone heard her.

&&

Clea pulled the brim of her large, bright purple hat down as far as it would go. It was the first Quidditch match of the year; Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. The rain was relentless. It started spilling down the sides of her hat, streaking across her face.

Dumbledore came and stood in front of Clea. His eyes twinkled even bluer in the shadowy overcast. He smiled, and waved his wand. Instantly a large cover spread out from the back of the stands, covering all the seats from the hard rain.

"Thank you," Clea squealed. She pushed her hat up, but didn't take it off. It wasn't just for protection, it was an accessory.

"So, Cleopatra," McGonagall asked, looking over her shoulder at Clea. "Who are you cheering for?"

Clea giggled. "Well, Slytherin isn't playing. So, I guess my default team would have to be Gryffindor."

"That'll have to do, I suppose," McGonagall huffed, clearly not wholly satisfied with Clea's answer.

Clea felt someone brush against her arm, and she turned quickly her spirits rising with hope that Remus felt better and was able to make it out. Instead she was greeted with a disgusted grin from Snape.

"What's the matter?" Clea spitted out.

Snape glared at Clea's rain coat. "That purple is a bit obnoxious isn't it?"

"Wearing black, again, I see?"

"Yes; but I've decided it would be best to adopt a new color, and avoid all things named Black."

Clea smirked. "That settles it then. I'll defiantly be changing my last name when I marry."

"To what, Mrs. Lupin?" Snape threw her a twisted smile, and tried to casually scoot closer to her.

Don't be cute, Cleopatra. For the love of Merlin, please resist all urge to flirt, Clea thought.

"What about…Mrs. Snape?" however, is what Clea said; accompanied by batted eyelashes.

A half a second passed before both Clea and Snape realized what was actually just uttered. The two pairs of eyes widened and the two brunette heads snapped forward.

"Well, out of sight out of mind, huh, Cleopatra?"

"Ears on the game, Minerva!" Clea shouted. McGonagall smiled wickedly and faced forward.

What's the matter with me?, Clea screamed in her head. I love Remus. I'm in love with Remus Lupin. So stop flirting with Severus…try to, at least.

"Just, forget what I just said; all right?" Clea pleaded. Snape nodded, but avoided looking at her.

Through the howling wind, and the pounding rain, the sound of Madame Hooch's whistle was barley heard. Clea watched as the yellow and red bodies rose up and streaked through the air.

"I heard what you did," Clea muttered, leaning towards Snape. She couldn't ignore the urge, the want to talk to him. If asked, she would never be able to pin point what it is exactly about the greasy haired disgruntled man that drew her in; she suspected it was the work of dark magic. "I wish you hadn't. I really do," Clea continued.

Snape didn't say anything. He glanced at Clea, his eyes dancing over her face. "He…" Snape stopped, and turned back to the game. "He's a werewolf. He tried to kill me, remember?" Snape's eyes snapped back to Clea. This was the first time they had spoken about that night. "And I know he's helping your accursed brother into this castle."

Clea shook her head. "I'm sorry you think all of that," she whispered, frowning.

"I'm sorry," Snape whispered back; "that I accused you of having anything to do with Black. I was wrong."

A sudden flash of bright lightening lit up the world; quickly allowing Clea to view Snape's face.

Madame Hooch blew her whistle again, and all of the players landed for a time out.

"I can't believe you're even here, Severus. Given that Slytherin isn't playing," Clea said, trying to avoid awkward pauses at all costs. "Is Draco really hurt?"

Snape turned to her and leaned in closer. "What do you think?" he said silkily.

"I think he's smart! Who'd want to play in this?" Clea threw her head up towards the sky, to emphasize the state of the weather.

"Gryffindor," Snape said, as the players resumed their game.

Clea looked at Snape, and stuck her finger into her mouth, pretending to gag. Snape chuckled low, from the back of his throat, his facial expression, however, not changing from its usual grimace.

"Cleopatra," McGonagall warned, eyes still locked on the game. "Inter-house unity."

Clea gaped, mouth open at the back of McGonagall's head, and rolled her eyes.

A small silence fell between Snape and Clea. Clea started fidgeting in her seat and straightening the buttons on her rain coat.

"Stay still," Snape snapped, throwing his hands over Clea's.

Clea looked down at the mix of hands in her lap. "You're touching me," she said.

"Sorry."

"That was a nice little trick you played on me, Severus; back in your office." Clea gulped, and didn't remove her hand from Snape's.

Snape slid his hand from under Clea's and used it to push his hair back slightly from his face. "My pleasure, Cleopatra."

The booming sound of thunder surrounded Clea, making her jump. She instinctively moved closer to Snape.

"You're touching me," he grunted.

"Sorry," Clea whispered. She felt cold all of a sudden; like the rain must have turned into freezing snow.

Dumbledore stood up abruptly. "Dementors," Professor Sprout shrieked from her seat, pointing down at the field.

A fork of lightening once again illuminated the stands, and Clea could just make out cloaked figures hovering around the bottom of the field.

"Potter!" McGonagall screamed. She shot up from her seat, and Clea's eyes followed McGonagall's eyes, and saw the outline of Harry falling from the sky.

Clea grabbed onto Snape's arm. She was able to glimpse Dumbledore running across the field, pointing his wand up at Harry, before Snape's hand rose up and covered Clea's eyes.

&&

"I brought him some Chocolate Frogs; but I didn't visit him for that long. He was so upset, and I didn't know what to say to him."

Three nights passed since the Quidditch match, and Clea finally found the time, and the nerve, to speak with Remus. She actually tried to avoid Snape as well since the Quidditch match. Things were beginning to become comfortable and electric between him and her; and Clea constantly felt sick to her stomach.

Remus sat in his chair, sipping tea and rubbing at the dark circles puffing out from under his eyes.

"I've told Harry I would teach him how to ward off a Dementor," Remus said, frowning slightly into his cup. "But, I'm not promising him anything."

There was a small pause, before Remus looked across his desk at Clea, who was seating regally in an extra chair. "Do…do you know what he hears when a Dementor is near?" he asked carefully.

Clea shrugged and shook her head.

"Lily," Remus's voice faded slightly. He cleared his throat and looked back down at the cup of tea in his hand. "He hears Lily, screaming, right before she died."

Clea stopped breathing. She stared at Remus, but couldn't say anything.

Remus's eyes floated up to meet Clea's and he nodded. "I know," he said softly. "You don't have to say anything."

Clea shook her head and frowned. "I hope you can help him, Remus. No one should have to hear that."

A silence grew slowly between the two. Clea started absentmindedly brushing the wrinkles out of her skirt, and Remus slowly sipped his tea.

"Did your students tell you that Severus taught your class?" Clea asked finally. She wanted some conversation to begin; so she can stop herself from thinking of Lily's death.

Remus laughed. "And assigned an essay on Werewolves? Yes, I've heard all about that."

"I tried to stop him, Remus," Clea said, shaking her head. "I really did! But, um, but it kind of back fired on me."

Remus put his tea cup back onto its saucer and folder his hands in his lap. "What happened?"

Clea sighed, and stood up. "I…I…" Clea sighed again. She walked over to Remus and leaned against his desk. "I kissed him," she whispered.

A small mumble of sound started to come out of Remus, but Clea burst ahead.

"You don't know how horrified I am at myself. I'll never be able to stop this selfish behavior. I'm so sorry, Remus. I really am. All I've thought about since it happened is about how much I love you, and how evil I'm being. I'm just…I'm sorry."

Remus stood up and faced Clea. His fingers, covered in fresh cuts and band-aids, stroked her cheek affectionately. "It's all right Clea," Remus said. "It's not like we're dating."

Clea started to nod her head; but she stopped abruptly and bored her eyes into Remus's. "We're not…?"

Frowning with obvious confusion, Remus nodded. "Clea," he said, backing away from her. "The night of my transformation is slightly hard to remember, I'm sorry. However, I do recall us kissing?"

"Yes," Clea choked out, nodding slowly.

"Yes, I remember that. But, I…I'm not ready to be back in a relationship. Not until everything is settled; with Sirius and Harry."

Clea stared at Remus. She didn't blink, she didn't swallow, and she didn't breathe. She just stared at him.

She thought it was reasonable for Remus to be scared and nervous about what was happening with Harry; it was reasonable to be constantly waiting for Sirius to make his move.

However, Clea also thought this whole situation was the most annoying group of events to ever happen in her life, so far.

"I was going to re-adopt my theme song though," Clea said in a hurt voice.

"What theme song?" Remus asked, all ready laughing.

"You know, 'Aa-oo, oo, witchy woman, she's got the moon in her eye-e-e-e-s'," Clea sang, grabbing Remus's face in her hands when she sang moon. Remus laughed with confusion swimming through his eyes. "Don't you remember?" Clea shouted, dropping her hands from Remus's face. "Sirius used to sing that every time I came to visit you," Clea laughed.

Remus nodded and sat back down. "That song will be yours again, Clea. Just...not until-"

"Not until when Remus? Sirius is caught? The world is officially free of dark magic? There's a cure for lycanthropy? There will always be an excuse." Clea stood up and walked away from Remus's desk.

"No there won't, Clea. I'm sorry...but, I just feel that putting our own relationship ahead of Harry's problems is selfish."

Clea threw her hands in the air. "I'm not being selfish!"

Clea started to storm out of Remus's office. She reached her hand out to open the door, when she turned abruptly and strutted back over to his desk.

"I'm taking back the chocolate bar I brought you," Clea said, snatching it into her hands and walking back to the door. "Maybe I'm a little selfish," Clea continued, turning around and growing more annoyed at the luck of enjoyment on Remus's face. "But, I'm sick of going in circles. I'm sick of McGonagall's snide remarks. And I'm sick of being the plaything for an insecure werewolf and a sexually frustrated potions master!"

Clea slammed Remus's door. She ripped open the chocolate bar and bit half of it off. She stood there, pretending that she couldn't hear Remus laughing; he never takes her serious anymore. She inhaled the rest of the chocolate.