LINER NOTES:

Hrm . . . uh . . . um . . . I haven't been getting any email from my normal penpals, and none of my favorite stories have been updated. So . . . I'm hoping maybe with this chapter, people will forgive me for the hiatus and start reviewing and such again, since I know you're all nice people. . . I'm still trying to fix the run-together text, by the way. And it seems I'm not the only one having this problem - I've since seen it in several other stories on here. The help email seems to be down, too, so all we can really do is be patient.

DISCLAIMER: If it was mine, Remus, Severus and Harry would all live Happily Ever After and Sirius would choose not to interfere (but he would be very much alive and happy), Dumbledore would stop employing tactics he blasts Voldemort for using, and Voldemort would run around in evil pink bunny ears . . . you can't be a true villian unless you have some of that ultimate epitome of evilness, PINK . . . -runs away from screaming Barbie fans-

RATING: This chapter is rated PG-13/T for language, mild violence, verbal abuse, and moderate homosexuality.

RATING NOTE: I've determined this probably won't go past PG-13 - I prefer implied scenes to directly stated ones, as you'll see at the end of this chapter (I hope I wasn't too nonspecific there, let me know if you don't get it - I was considering rewriting it but I wanted to get this out today) and I'm definitely no good at writing sex scenes, so we're probably as high as we're going to go. I'll continue to post a rating, however, as some warnings (i.e. violence, language, and so on) will vary from chapter to chapter.

REVIEWS:

Summer: Oh, no . . . now I have to start putting that "any resemblance to real persons, locales, or events is unintended and entirely coincidental" warning in my disclaimers! I made up the name "Joan Moore" from one of my favorite sources - the combining of two (or three, as in the case of Remus' birth name) people who are completely unrelated. In this case, the two people in question were Joanie (a woman my aunt knows) and a girl named C- Moore, who goes to my school. (Name removed for privacy) It saves me the trouble of trying to come up with names all on my own. I'm glad you're liking it so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy it!

As always . . . this story is dedicated to Eleonora1 and ImmortalFlick (Would you update "Unwanted or Improper" already!), and my best friend Alicia . . . enjoy!

.:Haruka Lune:.

"Bloody hell, mate, I pity you - you've got Snape almost all bloody day!"

Harry swallowed his biteful of toast and marmalade to ask Ron just exactly what he meant by that. Then he saw his schedule and almost died. There was a reason, he supposed, that Tuesdays (1) were rapidly becoming his least favorite day. Nine o'clock, N.E.W.T. Potions (doubled) - Professor Snape. Eleven fifteen, Potions Theory - Professor Snape. Twelve fifteen to one, lunch. One o'clock, N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts (doubled) - Professor Lupin. And at three fifteen - Dark Arts (doubled) with Professor Snape?

That didn't look quite right.

But he had ten minutes to get down to the dungeons for an entire morning with his least favorite teacher.

Who would have no qualms about taking every point Gryffindor currently had.

Harry decided he'd better get moving.

Harry arrived to class almost 20 minutes late, but this could hardly be counted as his fault - Peeves had stolen his bag, hung it from a rather tall statue, and when Harry - after much undignified jumping and reaching - had finally got it down, it had caught on the statue's hands and ripped. He'd spent the next fifteen minutes scrambling after quills and ink bottles and books and parchment. And his wand, which he'd put in his bag - he wouldn't need it, after all, since he was going to Potions. Then he'd discovered his copy of Accelerated Brews, Serums and Potions (the required text for N.E.W.T. Potions) was missing, and he'd been forced to hunt down Peeves (who wasn't hiding particularly successfully, luckily) to retrieve the book. Of course, Peeves wasn't about to just give it up. In another lucky stroke, however, they happened to be in the upper levels of the dungeons - and with the aid of the Bloody Baron, Harry was quickly on his way to class. Unfortunately, he'd made the decision to run in the vain hope that he'd get to class on time - and he'd been caught by Filch, who promptly escorted Harry to the caretaker's office. Harry'd finally begged Filch to just give him detention because he was late for class, and had reiterated the entire story - at which point Filch, in a rare moment of goodwill, let Harry go with no consequences (he far preferred to take the case to the Headmaster in the hope of removing Peeves). That carried Harry up to the moment that he pushed open the heavy wood and iron door to the Potions room, still carrying his torn and inky bag from all corners so as to prevent everything falling out (it beat carrying everything in his arms). Severus - Snape, now, he guessed, since they were back at school - looked up from where he was lecturing and allowed a slightly unpleasant smile to creep across his face. Harry hated it. He'd maybe learned to put up with the man over the summer, and there were even a few things he liked about Snape - but Potions, and its professor, were still among his least favorite things at Hogwarts. Harry sent up a silent prayer to whoever was listening that maybe he'd escape from this alive - not that Professor Snape would kill him, but the other Gryffindors might if he lost them Merlin knew how many points.

"So, Mr. Potter. You've decided to grace us with your company at last."

Harry knew from years of experience that "It wasn't my fault" would only get him more soundly punished, and so after taking one or two seconds to catch his breath he started with"I'm sorry, Sir." Then he held up his bag in the hopes that he'd be asked for an explanation. He was. Perhaps luck was running his way at last. Harry took a deep breath - in spite of his intention to condense everything as tightly as possible, it was still going to be a fairly lengthy story.

"Peeves stole my bag, sir. I had to get it off the statue of Queen Maeve on the first floor of the dungeons, and when I finally got it down it ripped, and I had to pick everything up, only Peeves stole my Potions text, so I had to chase him down to get it back -the Bloody Baron helped me with that. Then I realized it was almost nine o'clock -" so he could stretch the truth just a little -"and I started running because I didn't want to be late -" he paused for a breath -"and Fi- I mean, Mr. Filch took me to his office for running in the corridors. He only let me go about five minutes ago and I came straight here as fast as I could. Sir."

Snape had moved behind his desk as Harry told his tale, and now he was looking down at its surface as though trying to glean some kind of divine intervention from the polished mahogany wood. Finally he lifted his gaze and stared directly into Harry's eyes.

"Give me one good reason why I should not take fifty points from Gryffindor and assign you a detention, Potter."

Harry was exceedingly thankful that he'd had the chance to study the man's psychology before the school year started. Experience was on his side, now.

"Because it would have been far easier to skip class than to come down here after all that, but I chose to come to class anyway even though I knew the whole walk down that you'd probably be waiting to kill me as soon as I walked through the door, Professor, and I didn't think it was a very good idea to start the year by skipping a class I'm going to need every brain cell I possess to pass in the first place."

Snape actually almost smiled. Harry almost had a heart attack. The Potions Master shook his head. "Sit down, Potter. You may take the notes from your deskmate."

As luck would have it (his day just didn't seem to be destined, as Trelawney would say, to be a good one), there was one seat open. Next to Draco Malfoy. Harry groaned inwardly as he sat down, and then almost had a heart attack again (at least the day would be interesting, some imp in his brain decided to say) as Snape motioned toward Malfoy. "If you would, Mr. Malfoy, I believe Mr. Potter has notes to copy."

Harry scribbled frantically, trying to listen to Snape's lecture while copying down an outline of the syllabus. He was stunned at some of the things they'd be learning to recognize and brew - undetectable poisons, restricted potions, a large section on illegal potions (though they wouldn't actually be brewing any, of course), sometime after midterms they'd be required to stock the Hospital Wing, and -

"Potter!" Harry jerked his head up sharply, only to be staring directly into the eyes of arather irritated Potions Master.

"Er - yes, Professor?"

"Did you hear a single word I just said to you, Potter?"

Harry was exceedingly glad he'd taken up Occlumency again on his own - if nothing else, it had taught him to calm his temper at a moment's notice. "I'm sorry, sir. I was just finishing copying the syllabus. Did you ask me something?"

"I did."

Damn Snape for not letting him off easy on this one.

"Then could you repeat the question, please, Professor? I didn't hear it." He wasn't going to let Snape ruin his chance at being an Auror, especially not over some stupid, childish provocation.

"The five effects created by using human blood in certain subgroups of potions, Potter."

"Er . . . yes?" What about them? Snape had been talking about them, he'd heard that much, and he'd read about them in his N.E.W.T. text, but since the entire last part of the lecture had been on human blood, Snape's comment could mean anything.

Snape closed his eyes in frustration. "The five effects, Potter. Name them, if you are capable of doing so. Or perhaps I have to explain to you what that means, as well?"

Harry bit his lip and tried to think. "Erm - it's really important in mind-control potions - not truth potions, though - because it . . . um . . . if you're trying to control a human . . . it has something to do with some kind of mind-link or something . . . " One down. He knew he'd got that one right, even if he'd explained it terribly, because he'd been reading about it just that morning at the breakfast table (he didn't want to become Hermione, but he knew this class would be bad enough without throroughly reading the material). "And . . . er - if it's used in poisons that are absorbed through the bloodstream, it makes the veins collapse because it upsets the salt balance (2). If it's used in - erm " Damn, Snape had to pick that question, didn't he? "If human blood is added to an . . . aphrodisiac, it . . . concentrates it." Giggles from most of the girls in the room, and a sneer (along with a whispered "and how do you know that, Potter?") from Malfoy. Only two more. Two more. But he couldn't remember them. "And then . . . er . . . if it's added to . . . erm . . . to . . . if it's added to, er . . . " Why did he have to choose now to blank out, right after the aphodisiac comment? "Sleeping potions!" Harry yelled suddenly. (Even Snape almost jumped.) "If you add it to a sleeping potion, depending on the amount you'll either turn the potion into a concentrate or a poison, and it's used in certain complex healing serums to help close wounds by compounding the taker's own blood." The last two had been easy. Maybe he could get through this after all.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Now if you would kindly pay attention instead of drawing miniature -" Snape turned Harry's notes upside down so he could better see the aimless doodles Harry hadn't even been aware he was creating - "miniature wolves and random lumped-up scribbles all over your notes, I will not be compelled to ask you any more questions, do we have an understanding?" Harry nodded.

Harry relished the fifteen minute break after Potions - even though he couldn't go to the courtyard (it was too far away to make it back to the dungeons in time), he could walk around and begenerally nonproductive for awhile. Then he remembered the question he had to ask the Potions Master. Harry approached the massive desk with a good deal of trepidation. "Erm - excuse me - Professor Snape?"

Snape raised his head from where it was bent, correcting summer essays. "Yes, Potter -" dark eyes scanned the classroom and, seemingly, even the corridor beyond -"Harry?"

Harry almost jumped from the familiar use of his name. "Er - well - it's about my schedule." He forgot to add the qualifier at the end, but Snape either didn't notice (not particularly likely) or was choosing to let Harry off easy for once (well, twice, seeing as Harry'd not been penalized for being late that day).

"What about it?"

"Er . . ." Harry wasn't sure how to address the problem.

"Let me see it." Harry handed his schedule over and then, in a burst of semi-confidence, semi-frustration, pointed to the class labelled "Dark Arts." "There isn't really a Dark Arts class at Hogwarts, is there, Professor?"

Snape employed a tactic Harry had rarely seen except from Remus - blinking once, slowly, and then glancing in several directions as though his thoughts had run away, like sheep, and he had to gather them up into a bunch - herd - whatever it was called- before he did anything else. Finally he closed his eyes again and spoke. "The class does not teach the actual Dark Arts, Harry." Snape opened his eyes. "It is an elective class - though one that is highly recommended for people aiming to become Aurors or mediwitches or wizards, among several other professions. It may only be taken during your N.E.W.T. years, and it is open only to people who have received an O or higher on their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.s. You must also have at least five letters of recommendation from your professors and permission from a parent or guardian, and then you must be approved by the Headmaster. The Dark Arts class walks a very fine line between what is accepted by the Ministry as teachable, and what you need to know as part of a very unkind real world." Snape stood. "You'd better find a seat. Class is starting in -" he eyed an hourglass set into the wall -"just under a minute."

Most of the rest of Harry's day was fairly uneventful. Potions Theory - as the name suggested - was mostly notes, notes, notes, and - for a little bit of variety - notes. It had the potential to be worse than History of Magic. Yet somehow Snape managed to make it interesting. The man was a born storyteller, sprinkling even the orientation (the first day, in other words) with small yarns related to previous classes, his own time as a student at Hogwarts, and even - once - Remus (Although the actual reference was somewhat grainy, referring only to "a sleepyhead like Lupin with a bed head to match" when trying to describe a rather eccentric Potions Master from the 1700s). Even Harry had to laugh at that one - Remus did have a tendency to go around looking like the other half of his brain hadn't quite woken up yet. Lunch consisted of the usual - gossip, an argument between Ron and Hermione, Quidditch discussion, and vegetable stew.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was far more exciting than most classes had the right to be on the first day, though Harry felt quite badly about the form the excitement had come in. Remus had set up the basic guidelines and syllabus, and was in the middle of a preliminary theory lecture on mind-control curses when Malfoy had stood up and raised his hand. "Excuse me . . . Professor, I have a question."

Remus turned around from where he was drawing a rough diagram of the human brain on the blackboard. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy sneered at him. "I was only wondering, sir, how you can possibly lecture us on the workings of the human brain when you've never experienced its full effects?"

Even the Slytherins looked stunned. Several Gryffindors were clearly restraining themselves from jumping up and tearing Malfoy to pieces. Remus merely smiled at him pleasantly, but Harry saw the steel-knife glint in the golden-amber spheres that said Malfoy was going to regret that. "Mr. Malfoy . . . at least I have a fully effective brain, unlike some people I know. Now, do you mind allowing me to finish? I'd be most happy to extend your class period at nine o'clock tonight by as many minutes as you have wasted, but I see no reason to penalize your classmates for your poor choice in words and actions. Sit down, please."

Malfoy gaped at him. Dean Thomas whistled appreciatively, and Remus began explaining the diagram. Malfoy used an even louder tone than previously, though he was now addressing the room at large. "This school's gone so downhill since my father was here. Now they're practically asking the animals to teach, don't you know. We've got three of them now (3)."

Remus turned around much more sharply. Harry was all but terrified by his guardian's eyes. It occurred to him that he'd never seen Remus really and truly angry - and he knew he was about to. Like both Snape and Umbridge, Remus did not raise his voice when he was angry. Instead, it became dangerously low - yet every word was clear and concise. "Mr. Malfoy, I believe I told you to sit down."

"I don't have to listen to an animal."

Remus' eyes snapped shut, and he gripped the edge of the desk so hard his fingers turned white. Harry was expecting him to really let loose now, cut Malfoy so deeply the words themselves would become razorblades - but then Neville, of all people, stood up, facing the arrogant blonde across the room. His voice wavered slightly, but he wasn't backing down.

"Why don't you just shut up, Malfoy? Professor Lupin taught me more in six months than all the other Defense teachers we've had combined, and if you think he's not worth listening to just because he's different then maybe you shouldn't be at Hogwarts either. After all, weren't you bragging about taking the Dark Mark as soon as you can Apparate? There's a set of animals for you. They even crawl on all fours and slobber."

Harry was stunned. He wasn't sure when Neville had learned to twist daggers like that, but it was scary. It seemed to have the opposite effect on Remus, though, who opened his eyes, relaxing slightly. Here was a situation he could control, one he knew how to deal with.

"Neville, sit down. Mr. Malfoy - I'm not asking again." Malfoy remained standing.

"Very well, then."

Remus scribbled a note on a piece of parchment (in spite of the seriousness of the situation, Harry was slightly amused to see him still using a gel-ink ballpoint instead of a quill), strode briskly toward Malfoy's desk, and forced the Slytherin to take it.

"I'm quite certain Professor Snape will be very happy to explain to you just exactly why you should be listening to an animal. Out. And don't think I won't know if you don't go to his office, now." Malfoy had one foot out the door when Remus called to him. " And Mr. Malfoy - just so you know, if your Head of House is unable to make it perfectly clear to you, Mr. Filch will be more than willing to remedy the situation."

Malfoy paled. He'd only ever had detention involving Filch once, and he'd been led into the middle of the Forbidden Forest to serve it. At night.

Remus had continued teaching, but there was no doubt the encounter had unnerved him - he even half-jumped when Lavender Brown (who was nursing a bad case of hay fever) sneezed loudly, and then he looked furious with himself. Harry stayed after class to find out if Remus was going to be all right - he knew just how badly comments like that could hurt his favorite professor - but Remus had brushed him off, stating that he really didn't feel like talking about it.

Harry's Dark Arts class was - as were the rest of his classes that day - full of notes, although Snape assured the class (twelve people in size) that there would be practical work as well. The two hours sped by, in fact, in spite of the fact that by the end Harry's arm was aching from a marathon day of notes. It was in that state that he trudged to dinner, filled himself, and then left, not really caring to hear Remus' battle of wits with Malfoy reiterated again and again, and exaggerated in as many ways as possible (several second years from Hufflepuff swore that Malfoy was in the hospital wing, recovering from a nasty Lockjaw Hex, but one of the more irritated - and foolish - Slytherin fourth years revealed that Malfoy was in fact in the Slytherin dormitories, sulking). Determined to finish his homework - Sirius' death had lit an even brighter, more dangerous fire in Harry's heart, and Harry was by now completely determined to become an Auror and rid the world of Bellatrix Lestrange once and for all - Harry marched up to the Room of Requirement, knowing that nobody would find him there.
Remus slammed the door to Severus' office so loudly that even the perpetrator of the noise was startled. "Sorry."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Bad day, I assume?"

"Terrible." Remus flopped down on a couch sitting along the wall and hugged a pillow to his stomach. "I don't remember having this much trouble in my entire first year here, much less a single day."

"Do I even want to ask what happened?"

"Probably not."

Severus fought a quick battle between the wish to know what was going on - he'd seen Remus lose just about everything he had and merely shrug it off, embracing it as a chance to start over - and the wish to appear unconcerned. Remus, after all, wasn't the only one capable of having a bad day. On the other hand, the blonde was normally calm and unflappable. Then again, Severus had indulged in the occasional temper tantrum when he'd had -

Oh, to hell with it.

"I don't suppose you'd be terribly insulted if I asked anyway." He moved to sit next to Remus on the couch.

Remus closed his eyes, clearly worn out. "Well, to start with, I had five Slytherins show up late for my first class - a bunch of third years - and every time I said something they could relate to lycanthropy in some way - even the stupidest things, like telling everyone to pack up at the end of class - pack being the operative word there - they'd howl. Not loudly, mind you, but loudly enough for the entire class to hear. And the worst of it was, I couldn't even catch them doing it, so I couldn't tell them off for it. It's a childish way to get kicks out of someone else's problems."

"That wouldn't happen to be the group with the boy who looks like he swallowed a Quaffle, would it?"

"Those are the ones."

"Don't even waste your time on them, Remus. They've been making ridiculous bat noises behind my back ever since they got here. They're a member of that small and elite clique that still subscribes to the belief that I'm a vampire. Disciplining them only makes them worse. Ignore them. Or better still, use a scare tactic. Give them detention on a full moon night. Ignore them all class period and then collar them at the end. I'm sure you could come up with something creative. I told them they could clean the blood off the floor of the Potions classroom once, and they haven't bothered me since."

"That wasn't very nice, Severus."

"It's not like I lied to them. I just didn't tell them a vial got spilt when the sixth years were working on the Imperius Potion. Let them fill in the gaps however they like. It's the most effective punishment you'll ever be able to give them."

Remus shrugged. "At least you don't get called an animal four times in a day. By a Ravenclaw, even."

"The Chang girl."

"Who else? She's got it in for me, I swear. When she was in fourth year she used to do her other homework when I was giving lectures, and when I tried to call her on it she'd say she was taking notes and then - I don't know how on earth she did it - I'd go pick up the parchment, and it would be exactly that. Notes. Even though I could see the second textbook sitting open on her lap. And she's back at it again. Today I was trying to explain derivatives of the Unforgivable Curses and she asked me if someone could get a life sentence in Azkaban for using an Unforgivable on me, since I'm not classified as human."

Severus said something unrepeatable about Cho Chang, and Remus shook his head. "I guess that could be considered an honest question, although she certainly could have worded it much more politely. Malfoy really took the cake, though."

"He has detention tomorrow."

Remus smiled weakly. "I'd have preferred to - well, I guess I couldn't have, anyway. But I've heard he makes a wonderful ferret."

Severus actually laughed at that one - loud, and long - and then stopped abruptly as Remus brushed his hair back absentmindedly, revealing a large bruise on his forehead, so deep it appeared almost red and purple instead of black-and-blue.

"What the hell is this?" Severus reached out and touched it gingerly. Remus winced.

"It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like 'nothing,' Remus."

"Don't worry about it."

"You look like you took a Bludger to the head, and I'm supposed to not worry about it?"

"It'll heal."

"Remus . . ."

Remus sighed heavily. "Peeves pushed me down the Grand Staircase when I was going down to dinner tonight."

Severus swore again. "Somebody has to do something about that damned poltergeist. He's been getting unbelievably violent lately."

"I was thinking about talking to the Bloody Baron."

Severus raised his eyebrows again. When they'd been in school, Remus' fear of the Bloody Baron had been almost as great as his fear of failing any of his classes (and seeing as Remus had been practically Hermione incarnate, that was saying something). Remus leaned forward and rested against Severus' chest. "I'm just glad I had somewhere to go after all that. I can't imagine having to just go back up to my rooms and try to forget about it. I don't think I'd have slept at all."

"It does sound like one hell of a day." Severus slipped his arms hesitantly around Remus' waist, and the smaller man sighed, closing his eyes again, but this time in contentment instead of frustration.

"I suppose I really shouldn't have dumped everything on you like a load of dead lacewings."

"Everyone needs someone to talk to once in awhile."

"What do you suppose would happen if Malfoy walked in here right now?" The question sounded innocent enough, but if Severus tilted his head down just a little he could see the mischievous grin playing around the corners of Remus' mouth.

"I'd threaten to tell his girlfriend about - well, I'm sure he'd know what I'm talking about. He'd never breathe a word."

Remus tilted his head backward in puzzlement. "Come on, you can't keep a secret like that from me."

"Yes I can."

"No, you can't!"

"Remus . . . did you hear a single word of what I said earlier about filling in the gaps?"

Remus' eyes widened in sudden comprehension. "Severus, that's terrible!"

"Do you know how many students in this school think I know every single thing that goes on in their heads because of statements like that (4)?"

"That's not very nice, Severus."

"That's survival. If you want to survive students who are out only to see what they can get over on you, you'd better learn how to do it. Quickly. Or you'll soon find yourself turned into a doormat by the students who didn't know you last time you were here and who are only too happy to prove they can break you."

"That's a comforting thought."

"I can think of a more comforting one." He turned Remus' face gently and leaned forward. Remus closed his eyes. Severus shifted his weight to his other leg and slipped an arm around Remus' waist.

Neither spoke again for a long time.

REFERENCE NOTES:

(1) It's an error in the books that the school year always begins on Sunday, September 1, and classes always begin on Monday, September 2. So giving JKR the benefit of the doubt and saying that last year (Fifth Year for Harry) did indeed begin on a Sunday, this year (Sixth Year) would begin on a Monday and classes would begin on a Tuesday. I could have gone back through and done the math to find out what day it should ACTUALLY be, but I'm too lazy for that.

(2) This issomething I based directly on truth- we must have salt in our blood to live, but the balance is a delicate one. If you don't believe me, prick your finger and taste a drop of blood. You'll taste the salt in it.

(3) Malfoy would be referring to Remus (werewolf, DADA), Firenze (centaur, Divination), and Hagrid (half-giant, giants being classified as "beasts" in the Wizarding world, Care of Magical Creatures).

(4) For example, in the first movie, when he asks what Harry and his friends are doing inside, concluding with"people will think you're . . . up to something" (or,roughly translated to Spanish according to the DVD, "people will think you've put your hands in it"),Harry and Co. automatically assume that Snape knows they're going after the Stone, when in fact he probably knows nothing of the kind - in all likelihood, he was merely breaking up a group standing in the hallway. Reread the books looking specifically for "fill-in" statements like that, you'll find he makes them all the time.