"I can't believe them," Remus muttered as he stalked back into the office Snape had summoned him from, looking down at the map he'd just confiscated from Harry and Ron. The insults scrawled across it in the familiar handwriting were only beginning to fade, which was strangely irritating. Remus traced James's nickname with one finger before it disappeared, then tossed the parchment atop his overcrowded desk. "I can't believe us, either," he added, more absently this time. After all, the map's reappearance brought back a mixed bag of old memories.

The Marauder's Map. . . . Filch had confiscated it in their seventh year; Sirius and James had been furious about that. Somehow, however, it had escaped from the file drawer and found its way into Harry's possession, and he'd been using it to get out of the school.

Lily would have been furious that the boy was putting himself in so much danger. James wouldn't have been happy, either, but the minute his wife had stalked off he would have been after the whole story— after all, none of them had managed to get it back. Remus was more inclined to agree with Lily: He didn't care how Harry had gotten it, he just thought using it had been astoundingly stupid.

"Lupin," said a soft voice from the doorway, knocking him out of his reminisce.

Remus sighed. "Just once, Severus, could you actually knock before you come in?" he asked, turning around.

Snape, who was still standing in the doorway, raised an eyebrow.

Remus considered the situation for a few moments. "It's more than a week until the full moon, and you've spent most of this year avoiding me," he pointed out. "So what brings you here?"

Instead of answering him, Snape seemed to interpret the question as an invitation in, and he swept over to Remus's desk. "I see you confiscated it," he observed. There was a distinct edge to his voice.

Remus kept his own tone mild. "Yes, I did."

"If it was only a piece of paper designed to insult someone," Snape remarked with an air of forced calm, "then why confiscate it?"

"Because you could hardly call it appropriate," Remus answered with a shrug. "I mean, we—" He stopped. He hadn't meant to remind Snape, on the very slim chance he'd forgotten.

"We?" the Potion's Master repeated, his voice dangerously soft and the edge to it even more apparent. He glanced back at Remus, his brows raised.

"The only Potter I meant by 'we,' Severus, was James," Remus told him, still nonchalant, although that facade was beginning to take effort to maintain. "You undoubtably remember why I might now find James's sense of humor inappropriate?"

Snape raised his eyebrow's further and picked up the map. He drew his wand and hesitated with it raised over the parchment before shoving it back into his robes. There was, after all, no reason the demand should work any better this time. "I still think Potter got it directly from the manufacturers, Lupin," he muttered.

Remus shook his head, pretending to misunderstand. "I somehow doubt James left old mischief-making supplies in the care of his sister-in-law," he pointed out dryly.

Snape glanced from the parchment to Remus, and his lip curled. "That's not what I was implying," he pointed out quietly.

"Well, Peter is no longer alive and Sirius is hardly going to hand Harry an old keepsake of his and explain how to use it," Remus reminded him. "So I suppose you're indicating that I gave it to him sometime this year. And since you obviously think he used it to get into Hogsmeade as well. . . ." He hesitated again, wondering how best to phrase the retort. "I am not by any means going to help Harry get himself killed."

Snape's eyes narrowed, and his lip curled further. "Well, Lupin, we know you can act, and I may speak to the Headmaster about—"

"Severus, I've heard— and yes, overheard on several occasions— too many of those remarks this year not to know what you suspect," Remus reminded him, his own tone freezing over. "But Dumbledore trusts the both of us, and unless my memory fails me, you're the one on his second chance."

Snape stiffened as if he'd been struck.

For a moment or so Remus wondered what had possessed him to say that— after all, he'd always been the one trying to prevent Snape-baiting, not to instigate it— and for another moment he considered apologizing for what had been a fairly low blow. But no, he'd put up with too many snide remarks about lycanthropy this year not to find some grim satisfaction in getting to Snape in turn.

Snape recovered quickly, anyway, and tossed the paper back onto the desk. "So . . . out of an idle curiosity, how do you think Potter found it?" he sneered.

Remus shrugged. "It's probably one of the devices Filch managed to confiscate," he answered. "Someone— perhaps the Weasley twins, perhaps Harry and Ron themselves— must have stolen it and discovered how to work it. Of course, this is all speculation, so no one can actually be punished for it," he added, to ensure that Snape didn't proceed to assign four detentions.

"You've put a lot of thought into this," Snape remarked, still trying to get a rise out of his old enemy.

"You gave me ten minutes to think about it, and I can't deny I'm as curious as you are about it," Remus answered. "Now, I have essays to grade, and I'm sure there are some poor first years you're due to terrorize," he added, gesturing to the clock. "If you insist, we can continue this discussion later."

Snape stared at him for a long moment and then stalked off.

Once he was sure Snape was gone, Remus retreated behind the desk and unfolded the map. He knew he really shouldn't, but he was in just enough of a nostalgic mood to ignore the promptings of his conscience for ten minutes. He drew his wand and touched the old parchment. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he murmured. "After all, were I up to good I would be bringing this straight to Dumbledore. And I still might— later."

The ink spread from his wand tip, as clearly as it had when they'd first developed it. Remus bent over it. Harry and Ron had listened to him and gone back to the Gryffindor common room and Snape was stalking in the direction of his office. Absently Remus cast his eye across the grounds— Hagrid was tending something in his garden, apparently with the help of Professor Sprout— and out into the Forbidden Forest, where Regulus Black was moving slowly along a unicorn trail.

Remus froze for a second and looked back where he thought he'd seen a dead man. Either Regulus's name had been lost among the thick trees or it had never been there in the first place. Remus thought he might have made out the Black surname, but he couldn't see a first name, so it was probably Sirius's.

He slumped back into his chair. "Mischief managed," he muttered, tapping the parchment. "God, I need to get a little more sleep."

"Hey! What was that for?" Sirius demanded, picking up the sofa cushion that his little brother had just chucked at him.

"You're gloating again," Regulus told him dryly. He patted Crookshanks, who seemed to prefer the Shrieking Shack and two bickering Blacks to the noisy party that had inevitably developed in Gryffindor Tower. "If you don't stop it, I'm going to chuck the cat at you."

"Isn't that cruelty to animals?" Sirius asked.

"I dunno— wouldn't you be the one getting hurt?" Regulus asked mildly. He looked down at the cat on his lap. "You wouldn't mind flying over to say hullo to Sirius, would you?"

Crookshanks shot him a look that so clearly said "Not funny," that both Sirius and Regulus laughed, and the cat leapt disgruntledly from Regulus's lap to Sirius's.

"Well, you've got to admit that the Slytherin Seeker grabbing hold of the end of Harry's broom wasn't exactly fair play," Sirius contended.

"Well, yes, the Slytherin Seeker behaved like an idiot," Regulus admitted, stretching full length on the couch. "Anything else you need to add?"

"The beaters," Sirius reminded him.

Regulus lifted an eyebrow. "And you're going to try to tell me that no one else would have tried to disable the Keeper if they thought they could get away with it?"

"Well . . . okay, if they really thought Madame Hooch of the eagle eye wasn't going to catch them. . . ." Sirius admitted.

"I rest my case."

Sirius shrugged. "Well, it still wasn't exactly within the rules, Reggie— you've got to admit that, too."

Regulus rolled his eyes. "There are about three hundred ways to foul somebody in that game," he reminded his brother. "A lot of technical rule-breaking doesn't get called."

"Most of those don't involve hurting somebody, though."

Regulus opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it again. "All right, I'll give you that. I'll also give you that Gryffindor won the Cup fairly. Now if only you wouldn't gloat. . . ."

Sirius grinned and started petting Crookshanks before the cat demanded it violently— his squashed face was staring up at Sirius and clearly looking for attention. "You know, I think Crookshanks has actually cured me of my dislike of cats."

Regulus, still stretched out on his back, raised his hands to the heavens imploringly. "And to imagine, I only tried for seven years with a cat who was actually nice!"

Sirius looked up from tickling Crookshanks behind the ears. "Anna could be a monster when she wanted to be," he reminded his brother.

"Yes. When she wanted to be. Crookshanks, on the other hand, is a decent member of the feline species only when he wants to be." He propped himself up on his elbows to fix Crookshanks with a mocking glare. "Isn't that right, you foul-tempered little beast?"

Crookshanks purred.

Regulus laughed. "See, he admits it." He shook his head and returned to more serious subjects. "Judging by your empty-handed return, your morning hunting was unsuccessful?"

Sirius sighed. "Yeah. No signs of rats."

Regulus groaned. "I wasn't talking about rats, I was thinking more along the lines of rabbits. Forgive me, Sirius, but I had thought it obvious that we needed to eat."

Sirius didn't reply. Actually, he looked a little sheepish about his obsession, which was a rare occurrence. "I'm a little preoccupied," he admitted.

"I'd noticed." Regulus got to his feet and started towards the door. "It's getting a little dark to go out, especially considering what's in that Forest, but I'll go try for a few hours. After all, I'm not the one that's going to be distracted by the faintest sign that a rat might be around."

Sirius scowled. "Reggie—"

Regulus silenced his brother by shaking his head. "I'm not trying to get a rise out of you," he explained. "I'm simply pointing something out. If we want to eat for the next month or so, I'm going to be the one doing most of the hunting."

And before Sirius could think of another objection, he left.

Regulus did commandeer the hunting for the next six weeks. Sirius wasn't half as irritated as he knew he ought to be. Regulus was the better hunter anyway— he'd had thirteen years of practice hunting as a fox recently, after all, while Sirius had spent the last twelve in prison.

More importantly, however, freeing him of that obligation was also freeing him to continue Peter-hunting, although his luck remained dismal. He caught a few rats, all of which turned out to be depressingly ordinary. Regulus experimented in rat-cooking, which also didn't go very well.

Mostly, though, they waited, hoping for some sign that Peter was still near Hogwarts and could be found. Both Crookshanks and Regulus conspired to keep Sirius from brooding whenever he reentered the Shrieking Shack, and as annoying as Reggie got after awhile, he couldn't say he wasn't grateful for their efforts.

Thanks mostly to Regulus's absurdly good mental calendar and partially to a few snatches of conversation Sirius overheard while lurking near Hogwarts, they knew when exams began. This, if anything, made Sirius more tetchy and impatient. He'd wanted to get his name cleared before school let out. The first time he saw Harry in twelve years he had wanted it to be on mutually familiar ground, at Hogwarts. He didn't want to show up on his aunt and uncle's doorstep with some wild story, but it seemed he might have no choice.

The problem was partially in the plan he'd worked out in Azkaban. It had been the vague product of a half-mad man, and the only long term plans he'd made with Regulus were about what to do after Peter was caught. Neither of them had simply expected it to take this long.

Author's Note: Hey all! I'm glad nobody really minded the Remus scenes because, obviously, here he is again! (I fangirl Remus as well as the Black brothers and I needed filler, sothe opportunity was too easy to take advantage of. . . .) Anyway, Jackline: According to Lexicorn, Sirius was born in late '59 or early '60, and Regulus in '61, so just a year. . . . And thanks everyone else for your reviews! Care to tell me what you think of this chapter? Cheers! -- Loki