A very inopportune moment, I see. The kind nurse has washed you, but she has not dressed you again; some sort of accident happened, she rushed past me as I came in, in a very great hurry. Well, well. I expected this would happen one day, so here we are.

How do you like that, Severus? A stranger standing in front of your bed, surveying your naked body, exhibited in this white bed, without you being able to do anything about it?

What is that, is that a blush? Seriously, either I am imagining things, or you are blushing. Yes, your cheeks are definitely getting slightly pinker. And you are frowning.

Your body is even paler than your face, and should you ever wake up again, you should definitely eat more, you are just skin and bones, your ribcage strangely standing out, folding the skin around the bones. And your hips! Goodness, I never knew a hipbone could be so pointy. I feel strange, holding this monologue to a naked person. Well, nothing compared to your feelings for this matter, I presume. Still, nobody, not even you, after all this, should be reduced to this.

Your legs are almost as thin as your arms, did you now that? That leaves your knees standing out slightly knobbly. Odd. Your feet look old. That is not your fault, but they do, again, the bones stand out under the skin, leaving the skin stretched over them. They look quite disgusting, you know, but I have always found that. Feet are ugly. And your arm... I had always wondered what the mark on your arm would look like, but I cannot see it. Well, I assume it must have been unpractical to have a large, black tattoo on your arm all the time, I suppose it is invisible? Must be. It's not there.

That leaves me with the one area my chastity has forbidden me to look at before. It is not modest to look at another man's most private zones, so I blush as I do now, and it is terribly improper, but somehow, I cannot tear my eyes away, as it happens in these strange situations. Somehow, although I do not have a problem withnuditymyself - well, I would not, under the circumstances, but the knowledge of your feelings on the matter make me blush. Strange, is it not? That another man's modesty should prevent me from doing what my own would allow?

See, I can even touch your skin. It is far softer than I had expected, somehow. Ah, goose bumps and another frown on your forehead. To tell you the truth, I think you must feel a bit like I felt when you found me in my office the first time I used the Potion you brewed me, sane, but naked and asleep, after the transformation. Then, I am embarrassed about being naked.

You frown even more and I think I can feel your glare reach me through your closed eyelids, so strong is it. It is not kind of me to do this.

Well, other things were not kind of you.

Your expression is so strange as I do that, as though I was dragging a red hot poker across your bare chest. Surely such a soft touch cannot hurt you truly? And yet, the mere pressure of my fingertips on your chest seems to burn you. Maybe they should have put a "do not touch" sign on top of you.

See, the blanket is back. Oh, how inconsiderate. You cannot see. But you feel it, without a doubt, as the frown on your forehead recedes just a little. I can guess what the others would have done to you, but something in the way your naked body glares at me and the thought how my looking at it must burn it is forbids me to do anything.

Strange, is it not? Typical for me, still. I am sure you think so, too. I can't even get this right. I can only imagine what you would have done, were our positions exchanged. Oh, wait - you would not even have been here, I assume. You would have been triumphing alone, without ever coming here to triumph over me. Or would you? You would have come. But only once.

And I? I thought my feelings would change if I could see you, miserable as you are, and yet, even in this state, there is something that prevents me from doing what others would do. I cannot believe I am losing a battle against an unconscious man... but then, your unconsciousness means you are in so many ways untouchable. That is the rule. Not the fallen enemy, not the fallen. And you are too much my enemy not to respect that rule, Severus.

My enemy, yes.

"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"
And how did we get there? There must have been a single moment which tipped the scales, a second of transition from being on your to being on their side?

The sorting was an important moment for that, it made us part of different teams, only that in the beginning they hardly were teams, and I, for my part, hardly cared. The others - now, that is a different matter, though. There must have been one moment that decided the matter for me. Teams. Curiously, they are always important for someone. Did you notice that?

Do you know what I suspect, Severus?

Nearly half the year was over and Remus still could not help feeling as though he had arrived only yesterday. The castle was hard to get to know, everything was permanently changing, confusing and irritating him. He never knew which direction he would end up in if he took a turn. Unfortunately, this went for the castle and it's moody architecture as well as for the social structures that were unspokenly forming around him. It was hard to see them, but he could not help feeling that there were attachments and alliances forming he had never suspected.

In class, he was still working alone most of the time, or, if the teachers did not allow it, with one of the Gryffindor girls who was, as he found out, muggle born and rather good at school. She did not seem to like him particularly, but she was a great partner to work with and so he did not mind that she was just a girl. Severus had stuck to his Slytherin friend.

In his own dormitory, things were still as they had been. James and Sirius treated the other with indignant resentment. Peter and James were always seen together, but when he watched James telling Peter things and Peter always sitting and listening rather than sharing stories of his own, Remus could not help suspecting that Peter was at times tagging along out of the same sense of social vertigo Remus could not help feeling - without a friend to stick to, you were alone.

Remus did not mind that so much between classes, but in class he often felt that there were laws he did not even suspect. The teachers seemed to think that friendships would just happen, allowing everyone to work together with someone on a permanent basis, to sit with them on a permanent basis. Remus knew this was not true for all of the class and he wondered that the teachers never took that into consideration. There were always people who were left over, left out. It seemed strange that such a lot of the school's internal structure seemed to depend on working in groups, in teams, when truly there were no such groups.

The houses seemed groups, but under the surface of the same colours and scarves, it all fell apart and formed a jumble of intricate networks of likes, dislikes, admirations, acquaintances and social bonds which were impossible to see through. The Slytherins seemed to be a group, but then, could Severus' Slytherin friends ignore the other's background? The boys were not that different, but there were bound to be differences similar to those of Remus and the other boys.

Remus's hair was one example it was shorter than that of his housemantes; Sirius had pointed out how silly he thought it looked. Sirius and Peter had rather long hair and had told a sneering James that it was more traditional. The Slytherin boys all had rather long hair, apart from Severus, whose haircut was more like Remus's own, and Goyle's. Then, theyall dressed differently. Whereas Remus had brought trousers and sweaters to wear under his school robes which his father and mother found impractical, the others wore the robes only, and in their free time apparently only wore robes, too. Also, strangely, for them, the school with it's big dinners and lots of choices and the dirty clothes which were taken away over night and washed by house-elves, were apparently not up to the standards Sirius and Peter were used to from home, where they apparently were free to choose what they would have to eat every day. For them, school life was a rather Spartan life-style that had to be endured until the next holidays. What they told about their life at home made Remus regret his mother never purchased a house-elf.

He was not sure that similar structures could be found in Slytherin, that the same differences existed there, as they seemed more unified than his own house. And yet, he saw Severus working together with his Slytherin friend, but also saw him roaming the corridors alone most of the time. More and more often, he wished he could be in the other house rather than in Gryffindor. Here, he was alone, in the other house; maybe he could revive whatever there was between Severus and him. He wished this would be possible as things were, but the barrier posed by the other colour, the other table, and the other friends were walls he could not climb.

At times, it seemed almost silly to him, especially when he saw the behaviour of the older students who fully identified themselves with and prided themselves to be in their respective houses. Sirius seemed to see the matter in a similar way, and, Remus realised, so did James and Peter. Quidditch was another example. Remus could not really say he cared all too much. It was rather interesting, and he knew that his mother always followed the league, but at the same time, it was hard to develop real enthusiasm. Sirius displayed mild interest, but James and Peter were absolutely crazed about Quidditch, and so were most of the other students.

As the Quidditch season drew nearer, the tension in the common room grew daily. Last year had ended in a nasty defeat; Gryffindorhad lost the Quidditch cup to Slytherin because they were a mere ten points ahead. Ten points! If it was possible to trust the heated voice of the captain, they had won those ten points in a game against Ravenclaw - through a foul. The weather had been so bad the referee had not seen it, and thus, it had counted. The enmity between the two captains became more and more heated everyday and infected the rest of the house, gradually even seeping down and reaching the first years.

Remus had looked forward to the first game, and did find it rather exiting to watch his house's team play Slytherin, watch them zoom around the pitch, but somehow, he could not really understand the fierce passion with which the others seemed to feel each goal scored against them and each bludger which hit a team member personally, reacting to every move the teams made. When the Slytherin seeker caught the snitch, the mood in the crowd was terrible. Suddenly, Remus seemed surrounded by a mass of outraged or despairing people, who either punched the stalls to let out their emotions or booed at the top of their voice, leaving him, who stayed calm, bobbing in their midst like a bubble on a torrent.

After the match, the tension between the houses was turned into a full-fledged enmity. The Slytherins sneered at the beaten Gryffindors, and several times the two Quidditch captains had been sighted hexing each other in the corridors and had nearly both been suspended from playing in the next games. The house members followed suit. Slytherins and Gryffindors called each other names whenever they bumped into each in the corridors, and more and more often, students of both houses rather chose bump into another student if there was a chance rather than evading them. This kind of behaviour was catching like the flu and soon, more and more Gryffindors chose to crash into Slytherins whenever they met them in the corridor and the Slytherins hurried to extend the same courtesy.

James had bumped into Severus several times, a fierce expression of glee on his face, and did so now, causing the smaller boy to loose his bag. Quills and parchment spilling all over the corridor, passing students stepping on stray parchments and avoiding spilled ink. The Gryffindor snarled that he ought to be careful with a barely concealed grin. Severus had pretended to ignore him, swooping down to pick up his things without looking at James. The Gryffindor had glared at him with satisfaction, shoved the tall Slytherin boy out of the way and had strutted down the corridor, and yet Severus had a livid look on his face as he clambered around to collect his things. After a moment's consideration, Remus bowed down and started picking up Severus' stuff with him, flushing slightly as he did so, well aware that there were onlookers.

'That git!' theother Slytherin had commented, glaring at Remus who was scrambling around, picking up a stack of parchments. The boy, Goyle, Remus remembered, bowed and started collecting Severus' quills, his expression murderous. Severus, hand outstretched to pick up a rolled-up parchment, stopped in his tracks and stared at the other Slytherin in surprise, his eyes assuming a curious expression. He did not look at Remus.

'Bloody Gryffindors,' Goyle grunted as he had to avoid a fifth year's foot as he reached out to pick up a book.

Severus looked up, his eyes had an earnest expression as they settled on Remus's for a moment. Remus looked at the other two boys, and his eyes were drawn inevitably to their green ties. His head drooped.

'Sorry about that,' he said and handed Severus the pile of parchments. Severus eyes stayed earnest.

'Thank you, Remus,' he said quietly. Remus eyes lit up and he smiled briefly before he turned. He felt the other Slytherin's eyes rest on him briefly as he started walking down the corridor. Before he turned the corner, he looked back and saw the other Slytherin handing Severus a stack of books and a few rolls of parchment. Severus smiled up at him and thanked him,Goyle said something and Severus grinned briefly. It was as though whatever Remus had felt he was disturbing was now somehow private again. As he left, he saw out of the corners of his eyes how other Slytherins arrived, meeting with the two, and heard how the four started abusing the Gryffindors heartily. Remus turned into the empty corridor and set off for the Great Hall.

The sun shone blindingly through the enchanted ceiling, the light that reached the tables and students almost white. The air was strangely stale and it was hot. Remus lingered on the doorway, but then entered. A nagging feeling in his chest had made him decide he wanted to eat with his own housemates for a change and looked up and down his house table. Small creases appeared on his forehead. Sirius was sitting on one end of the long table, James and Peter on the other; a dozen students were dotted between.

Two options. James, who was apparently deep in conversation with Peter and still looked glum, or Sirius, who had called him a filthy Half-blood only this morning. Remus shoulders sagged, but, with another look at James and Peter, he made up his mind and he walked towards Sirius with a sinking feeling in his chest.

The tall boy was eating, his grey eyes fixed on his plate. An unopened letter was lying next to his plate, Remus noted as he sat down, glad that the other boy did not look up and shoo him away immediately. He was just heaping potatoes on his plate as the other boy did look up.

'What are you doing here?' was his cold comment.

'I thought... well, I was hungry. And you?' the grey eyes narrowed.

'Is this table not big enough for you or what?' Remus sighed softly.

'Oh, did you receive a letter from home? You're lucky. My parents haven't been in touch for a while,' he said, without adding that his father did not write because he would not and could not use the owl, who hated him, and his mother was too busy. Sirius expression darkened even more at this brave attempt of small talk.

'Not exactly any of your business, is it?' he snarled. Remus jumped slightly, but bravely kept putting Brussels sprouts next to the potatoes.

'How did you like the game? Pretty interesting was it, wasn't it?' Sirius looked puzzled, then frowned again.

'It was great. Especially how Gryffindor was flattened by Slytherin,' he added, a savage grin playing around his lips. Remus knew that this was the reason why James was in such a foul mood. They had been fighting over this ever since the match ended, Sirius sporting a black eye because he had been the only supporter of Slytherin in the Gryffindor stands, cheering at the entirely wrong moments in the eyes of the others. Why he had not gone to the Slytherin stands Remus could not understand.

'Yes, their team is really good,' Remus conceded cautiously.

'Typical for a bloody Half-blood! You do not have an ounce of pride and loyalty for your house in you, do you?' Sirius flared up. Remus frowned at him.

'Do you?'

'Don't you dare! Are you trying to have a go at me because I got sorted into the wrong house?'

'No, I was just wondering, because you do not seem to like Gryffindor that much.'

'That is something entirely different!' Remus stayed silent for a while under the glare of the other boy and ate his sprouts with reddening ears.

'Maybe you could talk to Professor McGonagall,' he said after about ten minutes of sullen silence.

'What?'

'About the house-matter. Maybe you can be re-sorted or something.' Sirius glared.

'Oh yeah? For your information, Mr Clever pants, I have already done that. How stupid do you think I am?'

'That's bad. Dumbledore, then? I mean, she's only the Deputy Headmistress, isn't she?' For the first time, Sirius responded not by glaring. His frown deepened slightly.

'No good. McGonagall said students were not re-sorted for any possible reason.'

'But maybe the hat made a mistake. They could at least ask it,' said Remus quickly after this first sentence which was not spoken to him in a cold, sneering voice by the other boy.

'Hm. True,' Sirius conceded, looking the boy opposite him over with an icy look, and then snapped, 'Won't work anyway. Don't you know anything? The hat is never wrong!' Remus sighed.

'Why do you want to be in Slytherin, anyway?' he asked quietly.

'Because it's the best house, obviously. And my family has been in Slytherin for generations. Gryffindors have all sorts of funny ideas about the way society should be run,' he said, and Remus recognised the sentence as one his mother always used to describe the attitudes of Slytherins.

'But Slytherins, too,' he said cautiously.

'Oh, yes? Well, what do you know about anything? And I wouldn't have to stand Muggle-borns or half-bloods in Slytherin, either,' he grunted, casting a foul look at Remus.

'But there are half-bloods in Slytherin,' said Remus sensibly.

'Rubbish.'

'Yes, there are. Severus is a half-blood.' This did not have the effect Remus had hoped for. Instead of conceding that both houses were alright, Sirius exploded, suddenly smashing his fork onto his plate so hard that he sent peas flying everywhere.

'That small slimy git? And a half-blood on top of all that! And I am stuck here!' his whole face had turned red, his eyes glaring at anyone who would dare to look at him or dared to complain about the peas they had been covered with. He was lucky that the only people in his reach were Remus, who was gingerly picking peas of his robes, and a small girl, who had looked the other direction with a scared look as she had seen Sirius' face.

'I am going to complain!' his eyes wandered over to the letter next to his plate which was decorated with peas now.

'But if there are half-bloods here and in Slytherin, then it's not too bad that you are in Gryffindor, is it?' Remus tried again. Sirius fist crashed into the table.

'Listen carefully, mudblood, I won't say it again. Blacks are not in Gryffindor!' His eyes were glittering furiously.

Remus just stared, his eyes wide. Had he just said that? He felt slightly shaky as he stood up without a comment and walked over to the other end of the table, dropping down next to James and Peter. He stared onto the empty plate in front of him with empty eyes, trying not to breathe too quickly because he could feel the emotions rising inside him. Mudblood, he had said. A sudden touch on his shoulder made him jump, he looked round to look into the worried, round face of Peter, whose eyes were searching his, flitting to and fro as they scanned his expression.

'Don't pay attention to the idiot,' James said loudly, glumly looking in Sirius's direction. 'He just does not know how lucky he is that he did not get into that stinking house of idiots like himself.'

'Mr Potter!' a voice cut in and Remus could see Professor McGonagall glaring at James, who recoiled slightly.

Remus was looking along the long table again at Sirius, who was reading the letter from home. He could swear he could see the shoulders of the boy shaking slightly, but he had quickly turned away from the other students and stood up to leave the hall, so he could not be sure. Still... Remus remembered that Sirius had received a letter the first weekend. He had stayed in bed, curtains stubbornly drawn, nearly all morning and Remus could have sworn he had heard him cry. Maybe it had not been homesickness after all, maybe his parents were as unimpressed about his being in this house as he was...

The hand on his shoulder patted it slightly and he looked around at Peter, who was smiling worriedly.

'James and I want to head to the library after dinner, want to come?' he said and Remus could not help smiling as he nodded.

Ties like these form so steadily and stealthily, I had difficulties pin-pointing the exact moment of when what later was to become the friendship of me and the others began. Their friendship was very important to me, and very outspoken, later, that is. Whatever was between us was not, was it? This very absence of talking about anything makes me wonder if there was ever anything there at all.

It was easy to be friends with them, too, in fact, it is hard not to develop some kind of attachment to people you see every day and spend the nights and your free time with.

Was that the first day of a friendship between you and the other Slytherins for you?

I know that I have hardly seen you alone again later on, that you stuck together. Which is one of the reasons why we did not talk that often anymore... And not wanting to be alone, I stuck to Peter and James, as they did seem to accept me, more or less.

And was that it?

It was such a small event I almost had forgotten about it all, but what is life if not a succession of such small things?

Was that the beginning, the moment which tipped the scales, the feather falling on top of the innumerable other feathers to weigh up all that once was, to make one scale sink and the other rise in triumph?

Was it for you?