CB: My apologies for not updating sooner, but work has interfered. I want to thank you all very, very much for your patience and, as usual, oodles of love go to:

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'So as the waves make towards the pebbled shore

So do our minutes hasten to their end;

Each changing place with that which goes before,

In sequent toil all forwards do contend…'

W. Shakespeare

"Snape," Sirius said with slow, calculated venom, "is watching me." He hissed through his teeth and savagely dug the point of his quill into the desk top, staining the wood with black ink.

James shrugged. "So watch back," he said amiably. "Maybe he's just trying to catch you doing something wrong – not a difficult thing, I must admit."

Sirius snarled and abandoned the quill, which had snapped neatly in two. "It's not that, he just keeps staring at me. And smirking. It's almost like he knows something I don't and he wants to see the shock on my face when I'm told about it." He shot a dark look across the classroom, to where the Slytherin was lounging in his seat, a smug expression gracing his features.

"Now you're being paranoid," James said bluntly, nudging Peter in the ribs with his elbow. "Pete, tell him he's being paranoid."

Peter opened his mouth to do just this, saw Sirius's expression, hesitated, and thought better of it. He shut his mouth again with a snap, and sank lower in his seat, trying not to attract the dark haired boy's attention. Sirius looked, for want of a better word, murderous, and Peter suddenly thought it would be prudent to pretend to be very busy very quickly. Better to be far, far away when Sirius exploded, he reasoned, than dead.

"This lesson is pointless." James, apparently, had finally noticed Sirius's bad mood and changed the subject with his usual lack of tact. "All we're doing is copying Lupin's notes off the board at the moment. Why can't we do something exciting, like duelling?" He sniffed disapprovingly and leant back in his chair, rocking it onto its back legs.

"Possibly because they don't want seventh years murdering each other during school hours?" Peter suggested dryly, absently sketching a little sulking stick Sirius in the corner of his parchment. "We have been paired with the Slytherins, after all."

"Speaking of Slytherins," Sirius said suddenly, shaking off his bad mood and sitting bolt upright in his chair, "Lestrange tried to hex me yesterday!" He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Apparently someone let slip that I was going to be competing against him in the music competition." He smirked and flicked the end of his broken quill. "I heard you were next on their hit list, Potter."

"Me?" James blinked then shoved his glasses back up his nose as they slid down. "We all know I sound like the croaking toad chorus, why would they even need to sabotage me?"

"You're good," Sirius said solemnly.

"Too good," Peter added, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth. "Too good for this world, in fact. So the Slytherins are going to take the liberty of removing you from it."

"Bah." James drummed his fingers on the desk and shot an evil look at several Slytherins, who were sitting on the other side of the room. "I'd like to see them try."

"So would I," Sirius said fervently. "It'd be wonderful blackmail material to see you hanging upside down from the Astronomy Tower by your underpants."

James paled. "They wouldn't!"

"They would," Peter assured him.

"Peter's right," Sirius agreed cheerfully.

"Well how did you escape from them, then?" James demanded. "Lestrange is faster than you, so you can't have outrun him, and he's better than you at curses, so you wouldn't have stood a chance against him in a duel."

"I got down on my knees and sobbed like a girl," Sirius said without a hint of remorse in his voice. "I even begged him and promised to pay him my next twenty galleons if he'd spare me." He smiled happily at the memory.

"Did you?" Peter stared at him in surprise.

"Mmhm. And then when he hesitated I bit his kneecaps." Sirius's expression dropped from amusement into pure wickedness. "Of course he screamed a bit, but that's only to be expected. Unfortunately he had the presence of mind to kick me – once he'd got over the pain, of course. That was when I fled, having disabled him so that he couldn't chase me." He pulled a face. "Let me tell you, though, Slytherin blood tastes nasty."

"You bit through his robe?" James asked in disbelief.

"Yep. It was one of those custom made ones, so the material isn't as thick."

"Once again, Sirius's strange fashion knowledge saves him from certain death," Peter said, shaking his head. "Of all the people I know, I'd only ever believe this story when it's coming from you, Sear."

"I choose to take that – "

"SIT DOWN AND SHUT THE HELL UP!"

The door to the classroom flew open, hitting the far wall with an almighty bang and rebounding towards the teacher who had just strode in. Twenty-three pairs of shocked eyes turned towards him, and he grinned, charmingly, tightening his ponytail before striding across to the desk and settling on the edge.

"That got your attention," he said amiably.

In the stunned silence that followed, there was the sound of brisk footsteps walking down the corridor, and Sinn swept into the room, a textbook under one arm. Pausing just inside the door, his gaze took in the class for a moment, before he nodded and placed the book on the desk to the right of Mars.

"Good morning, class. I will be taking this lesson this morning, since Professor Lupin is ill. Professor Fogarty has kindly agreed to assist me, as my knowledge of Defence Against the Dark Arts is not as good as it should be. Hopefully we'll be able to remedy that during this mornings lesson." He smiled briefly, then perched on the edge of the desk, next to Mars, who shuffled over a bit to allow him some room.

"Right," the sports teacher said cheerfully, continuing where Sinn had left off. "What have you been up to in these lessons so far?"

There was a quiet buzz as people muttered to one another and Sinn tapped his fingers against his knee impatiently, his young face betraying a hint of impatience. "Come on, come on, it isn't difficult," he snapped. "You must remember something."

Mars rolled his eyes and leant over to whisper to his colleague, his lips almost brushing Sinn's ear. James, Sirius and Peter, who were all sitting two rows back, watched curiously as Sinn pursed his lips, a faint blush staining his cheeks as he shifted uncomfortably.

"Two galleons says Mars is yelling at him," James muttered.

"He's not yelling, he's whispering," Peter pointed out reasonably.

"Yeah? Well I bet he's having a go at him nonetheless. Professor Sinn always was impatient, wasn't he?"

"I suppose it's what comes of being able to see into the future," Peter replied comfortably, settling back as Lily finally began outlining what they had covered in class.

Sirius ignored his two friends, opting to frown at the top of the desk instead. Professor Lupin was ill. Again. Ruthlessly squashing the flash of concern that flickered through him, Sirius wondered briefly whether the illness was the same as last time. He scowled and tapped the end of his broken quill thoughtfully against his bottom lip, forgetting for the moment that he'd snapped it in two.

In fact, if memory served him correctly, Lupin had been ill around this time last month as well. Something at the back of Sirius's mind began to take shape, but before he could piece together exactly what it was, James nudged him in the side.

"Snape's looking at you again," he said under his breath.

Sirius glanced sharply to his right, just in time to catch Snape's gaze. The Slytherin paused for a moment, before a nasty smile crossed his lips and he turned away. Sirius frowned again. Snape was up to something, he was sure of it, and it obviously involved him, somehow. The smug expression on the other pupil's face implied that whatever it was, Sirius was not going to be amused.

Sniffing in disgust, he turned his attention back to the lesson, just in time to catch Mars watching him – his gaze suspicious.

Sirius sighed. It simply wasn't going to be his morning.

AaAaAaAa

A month and a half later, as he was sitting at his desk, Remus Lupin realised that he hadn't got his mother a Christmas present.

Cursing under his breath, he shoved several books to one side and rested his chin on his hands, gazing gloomily out of the window. Teaching, it seemed, had finally taken over his life completely, and with the end of term only two weeks away, it was evident that he'd have to come up with an idea very quickly if he didn't want his only family to be horribly disappointed on Christmas morning.

Remus sighed and fiddled absently with a stray thread in his robes. Perhaps he could ask Sinn or Mars for help – both of them seemed to have the same kind of taste as him, and if the three of them went shopping, it might make his task a little easier. It would also mean, a small voice at the back of his head commented, that should he run into Sirius, he would be well equipped with other people, which would stall any embarrassing conversations.

Not that Sirius had actually spoken to him, lately. In fact, the student seemed remarkably withdrawn, something – Professor Maple assured him – that could only mean he was plotting. Remus, however, had his doubts. The dark haired boy had been distant, almost cold whenever Remus spoke to him, and he had refused to meet his eyes in class. Perhaps, he thought hopefully, Sirius has finally got over his…his…infatuation. He carefully didn't think of the small spark of something remarkably like pain that that thought caused.

Resolving not to think about Sirius any longer, he pushed back his chair and headed off to find Sinn and Mars in the staff room. Discovering they weren't there, he followed Flitwick's suggestion and tried Sinn's study, which resided at the top of one of the many school towers. Lost in his own thoughts of Christmas presents and marking, he didn't bother to knock on the study door; instead he simply pushed it open and wandered in.

For a moment, he thought nobody was there, and he was just turning to leave when the soft sound of someone shifting made him take a closer look.

A dark head was just visible over the back of the sofa, its black hair gleaming in the firelight. Remus recognised it as Sinn and took a couple of hesitant steps over to see if he was disturbing him. As he moved around to the front, of the sofa, his back to the fire, he noticed Sinn was sitting with his head bent, looking at something in his lap. Remus followed his gaze and blinked in surprise.

Mars was lying, fast asleep, with his head on Sinn's knees. His mouth was slightly open and his long, lean body was curled awkwardly into the remaining space on the piece of furniture. His long blond hair was falling out of its normal ponytail to hang messily around his face and he wore no robes, only a worn pair of trousers and a rumpled t-shirt.

As Remus watched, he noticed Sinn's fingers running gently through his friend's thick blond hair, and he started, guiltily, as Sinn spoke, without raising his head.

"He does this sometimes, the inconsiderate bastard."

"Does what?" Remus's voice was quiet – he felt he was intruding on a scene he had not right to witness.

"This…" Sinn waved his free hand elegantly, the gesture taking in Mars. "He falls asleep, not letting me move. It's usually after he's had a fight with someone." He sighed, absently twisting a piece of thick blond hair between two fingers. "I suppose he needs reassurance that at least someone likes him. The fool," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Has he had an argument with someone, then?" Remus asked, still torn between staying and going. Sinn had yet to look up at him.

"No, and that's the worst of it. I'm playing nursemaid for no good reason." There was no venom in the statement – despite the cruel words – only a sleepy kind of contentment. "Still, at least it shuts him up for a little while. It's astonishing how much he can talk."

It occurred to Remus that, despite his cautious friendship with the two of them, he knew very little about Sinn and Mars. Shifting from foot to foot, he resisted the urge to bite his lip and tried not to feel like a schoolboy. "The students like him, though," he said eventually, brushing a bit of imaginary dirt off of his robes. "Surely you can't criticize his knack of being able to empathise with them."

"On the contrary, I believe they only like him because he's as immature as they are." Despite the comment, Remus noticed, Sinn's fingers didn't stop stroking Mars's head.

As he watched, the blond Sports teacher grumbled something unintelligible in his sleep and shifted, managing to wrap his arms around Sinn's waist, despite the obviously uncomfortable position. Letting out a sleepy sigh, he turned his head, burying his face in Sinn's lap.

"Er…" Sinn said, and Remus could have sworn he flushed the most astonishing colour. Then he realised it was probably the firelight that made Sinn's cheeks glow. Shaking his head in amusement, he smiled as Sinn stared up at him, brown eyes suddenly wide and a little unsure in his pale face.

"Why don't you sit down?" the Divinations teacher asked politely, jerking his head towards an armchair. "I need some company whilst I'm waiting for Sleeping Beauty here to wake up." His voice was dry, but Remus heard the genuine invitation. "What brings you here, anyway?" Sinn continued, not waiting for Remus to sit. "Must be something important to drag you away from your marking." His lips twisted in a quick smile, making his young face suddenly seem a lot friendlier.

"Christmas presents," Remus said bluntly, sinking gratefully into the armchair and trying to ignore Mars, whose socked feet were hanging over the arm of the sofa mere inches from his knee. A foot twitched occasionally.

"Oh?" Sinn raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"I need help finding some," Remus continued, leaning back in the chair. "It occurred to me that we're barely two weeks away from the end of term and I haven't got anything for my mother, or Mrs Fogarty-Davies."

"Annie?" Sinn's other eyebrow rose. "Why do you want to get one for Annie?"

"Well, she's been nice inviting me to dinner every Saturday with her family and you…" Remus trailed off and shrugged. "It gets me out of the house, so I thought I should buy her something, as a thank you. Which is why I came to you. Well," he amended, glancing at the blissfully oblivious Mars, "you two."

"Gift advice," Sinn said half in amusement, half in disbelief. "Well, I suppose we could help, it'd give me something to do, at least; and I know Mars hasn't got anything for his nephews yet, so he needs to go shopping. Oh, and we need to get costumes, as well."

"Costumes?" Remus repeated blankly.

"Yes." Sinn rolled his eyes, his knee bouncing until a barely-heard sound of discontent made him stop. "Professor Dumbledore's had one of his Ideas." The way he said "ideas" and the expression that accompanied it strove to convince Remus that when Dumbledore had an "Idea" it was normally something that was both embarrassing yet entertaining and not quite sane but brilliant. In short, it sounded like most plans Dumbledore came up with.

Remus could relate; he'd had Sirius dumped on him, after all.

"The Idea," Sinn continued, oblivious to the turn Remus' thoughts had taken, "consists of humiliating as many members of staff as possible at Christmas." He sighed, pursing his lips in annoyance. "Apparently we're all turning up to Christmas dinner in fancy dress. Because it will be…fun." He looked as though the last words were actually causing him physical pain, or at least making him feel vaguely sick. "Any student who stays over Christmas can wear fancy dress as well, if they wish, but for the staff, it's obligatory. Apparently there hasn't been enough festive cheer this year." He sniffed, disapprovingly, reminding Remus very strongly of McGonagall.

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad –" Remus began, but was cut off by Sinn, who was shaking his head.

"It will be," he predicted grimly, "because most of the students are staying over Christmas. The list was posted in the staff room yesterday, and as teachers, it is our solemn duty to instil the spirit of good will into our pupils." He stared gloomily at the fire for a moment. "To be honest, if I've got to suffer, I'm going to make damn sure my students suffer with me." Clearly slightly cheered by this thought, he glanced over at Remus. "Detentions are a marvellous thing," he added blithely.

"You're too cruel," a muffled, sleepy voice pronounced from the region of the Divinations teacher's lap. "It's no wonder the students hate you."

"So you're awake, are you?" Sinn said irritably, one finger poking dubiously at the top of Mars's head. "And how long have you been back in the land of the living, pray tell?"

"About three minutes." There was a small scuffle and Mars somehow managed to roll onto his back without falling off of the sofa or removing his head from its pillowed position. Two blue eyes blinked sleepily at Sinn, who pursed his lips together in annoyance. Remus watched the whole scene with mild amusement, until a hand stuck up in the air and waved in his direction.

"Hello Remus, sorry I didn't greet you earlier. Unfortunately my pillow was just so comfortable that I was sleeping the sleep of the innocent."

The 'pillow' gritted its teeth and quite clearly had to restrain itself from shoving the Sports teacher off the sofa.

Remus' lips twitched as he attempted to hide a grin. Sinn and Mars began bickering; their attention momentarily diverted from him, so he sank lower into the armchair and stared at the ceiling, thoughtfully. The sight of the two teachers so at ease in each other's company had sparked something within him. It wasn't jealousy, he thought, examining his feelings, but nor was it a feeling of camaraderie. Despite the fact that they obviously considered him a friend, they had known each other a lot longer, and they didn't share the same familiarity with him that they did with one another. As he paused, still thinking, he realised that what he felt, oddly enough, was isolation.

Sinn and Mars had one another. If nothing else could be said about the two of them, it was that they put together a united front, despite their quarrelling. If he, Remus, left the equation, he doubted it would upset them that much because they had each other. He was a friend, yes, but he wasn't a part of the intimate friendship they shared together. As pathetic as it sounded, seeing the two of them arguing made him wish he could do that with someone.

He sighed, and shoved that matter to the back of his mind, just as the argument came to a decisive conclusion when Sinn pushed Mars deliberately off of the sofa, resulting in a loud thump and a pained howl from the Sports teacher, who now had, he swore, a cracked tailbone.

Thirty seconds later, Professors Maple and McGonagall stormed upstairs to ask them to keep the noise down, as they were trying to do some work.

AaAaAaAa

"What about a recorder?"

A loud and somewhat familiar voice penetrated the dusty aisles of 'Salome's Symphonies', making Sirius look up from where he had been absently perusing a bunch of old music sheets. Peering around the corner, he saw a tall, blond man with his back to him, waving a small wooden recorder in his left hand.

"I hardly think that's an ideal Christmas present, do you?" another familiar voice commented dryly and Professor Sinn appeared from around a corner, his expression holding a faint hint of annoyance. "I'm sure Remus's mother does not play the recorder, and if she does, she most likely already has one. So put it down, it's pointless." He took the recorder off the blond man – who Sirius had just identified as Professor Fogarty – and stood on tiptoe, peering over one of the stacks of shelves.

"Remus? Does your mother play the recorder?"

"No…" came the faint reply from somewhere in the depths of the shop, followed by a violent sneeze.

Remus… Slinking back behind his own stack of shelves, Sirius stared blindly at the music sheets for a moment. This was the first time he'd been near the young teacher outside of school since that fateful night when he'd watched the other man from the courtyard. Ever since then, he'd half managed to convince himself that it had either been imaginary or that he had, at least, mistaken the look in Remus' eyes when he'd caught sight of him.

There was also no excuse for Sirius to be thinking of Remus now that James had called the bet off, but he had found, to his surprise and slight irritation, that his thoughts occasionally wandered in the wrong direction and ended up dwelling on the Professor.

"I say, what about – oh, hello Mr Black." Mars, who had evidently given up on the recorder, had rounded the stacks of shelving and nearly bumped into Sirius. "What are you doing here?" He blinked as Sinn emerged from the opposite aisle with Remus in tow.

"Looking for a piece to play for the competition." Sirius cleared his throat awkwardly, trying hard not to look at Remus. "I thought there might be something in here."

"I don't see Mr Pettigrew or Mr Potter," Sinn commented, peering around as though he expected Peter and James to burst out from behind a stack of old instruments. "Isn't it a Hogsmeade weekend?"

"Oh, yes," Sirius assured him hurriedly. "But they didn't want to come here, so I said I'd meet them in the Three Broomsticks later." He smiled, weakly, none of his normal composure left as he spotted Remus running a hand through his hair, out of the corner of his eye.

"I think I might have found something," the young teacher said suddenly, brushing past Sirius as though he was no more than one of the decrepit music stands. Pointing to a small, silver flute on one of the shelves, he leant forwards. "My mother plays the flute," he explained. "I'm sure she'd love an instrument like this, particularly as it's so old. One of her hobbies is fine-tuning magical instruments." He stretched out his hand to take it off of the shelf.

"Oh, hey!" Mars said sharply, his voice rising as though in panic. "Don't touch that!" Three confused pairs of eyes turned towards him and he coughed, looking embarrassed. Fixing his gaze on Remus, he said: "The object's cursed. It would be best if we let the shopkeeper deal with it, don't you think? None of us should touch it – least of all you. Not with your lack of… magical immunity."

Sirius blinked, certain that Mars had finally taken leave of the few senses he had retained after teaching Sports to Hogwarts students for five years. "It's not cursed," he began. "Look, there's not even a warning sign. In a shop like this, they'd put a small notice in front of it telling customers not to touch it, because it would give them terrible boils, or something." He frowned and leant forwards.

"It's cursed," Sinn snapped, agreeing with Mars, who was nodding, and already backing down the aisle. "Remus, you stay here. Mars and I will go and find the shopkeeper." Not waiting for a reply, he turned sharply on his heel and strode off, following the taller man towards the front of the shop.

An awkward silence descended, and Sirius saw Remus bite his lip.

"So…"

"So…" Sirius repeated, folding his arms and shooting the flute a suspicious look. "That thing's really cursed, is it?"

"Erm, yes." Remus coughed. "Cursed silver is, er, highly dangerous. That particular metal is extremely potent when charged with dark magic. Apparently it's incredibly receptive to spells – it's even used as a magnifier, sometimes…" He trailed off, absently fiddling with the sleeve of his robes. "So nobody should touch it," he concluded weakly. "Least of all me."

"What did Professor Fogarty mean by your 'lack of magical immunity'?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, I'm…not very good at repelling spells. Not a useful trait in a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I must confess."

"Ah."

"Yes. 'Ah'." Remus shrugged. "I'd better go and see where my esteemed colleagues have got to." He turned to go.

"No, wait!" Sirius's hand shot out, grabbing his arm, surprising both of them. "Er, look, Professor. Um." He coughed awkwardly, his normally quick mind and tongue going blank. "Why don't you come and have a Butterbeer with James, Peter and I in the Three Broomsticks? I'm sure the other Professors won't mind." There was a strange hint of desperation in his voice – although neither of them could have said why.

"I –" Remus opened his mouth, surprised; then shut it again. "No. I'm sorry, Sirius, but no." Refusing to meet the student's gaze, he brushed his hand off his arm and fled, leaving Sirius standing alone in a dusty shop, feeling far more confused than he had ten minutes ago.

AaAaAaAa

"One of these days," James commented to Peter, "Sirius is going to trip over his own ridiculously long hair and die." When this gloomy prediction failed to get a rise out of his friend, he frowned and nudged Peter. "Think he's ok?" He jerked his head at Sirius, who was staring thoughtfully at his Butterbeer.

"You want my honest opinion?"

"Yeah."

"No. I think something is wrong." Peter sat back and folded his arms. "And this something has been wrong since he got back from that music shop."

"Maybe he couldn't find a good piece to play," James suggested, taking a swig from his tankard. "Oy, Sirius, was there nothing in the shop? I thought you went in there to get something for that violin of yours. McGonagall wants a copy of all the music by tomorrow, so if you haven't got something you're pretty buggered, mate." He waved his Butterbeer for emphasis.

"Hmm? What? Oh…" Sirius blinked then shrugged, finally looking up from his drink. "I couldn't find anything," he said distractedly. "But it's not the end of the world, I'll just pick something that I've already got."

"Then why are you so…" James searched for the right word, couldn't find one to describe his friend's mood and settled, instead, on making a circling motion with his hand.

"I'm not so…" Sirius mimicked James's movement. "I was just thinking."

"Oh sweet Merlin's beard. He was thinking! Quick! Someone inform the 'Daily Prophet'." This witticism earned James a swift kick under the table and he sniffed indignantly. "Ok, fine," he relented, "what were you thinking about."

Sirius shrugged again. "Not much. I saw a couple of teachers in the shop – quite odd seeing them outside of their normal habitat. A classroom suits them infinitely better." He lifted his tankard to his lips and drained it in one swift movement. James watched him, looking slightly impressed, and Peter just stared, eyes wide. As Sirius slammed the mug back down, two pairs of eyes followed it, before their gaze returned to his face.

"Something's upset you," Peter said finally. "Nobody drinks like that if they aren't upset. Even if the drink is non-alcoholic." He folded his arms and James gained a new respect for him as he met Sirius's baleful glare straight on. "Now. What's the matter?"

"It's…" Sirius opened his mouth, shut it, and sighed. "It's Lupin," he eventually blurted, without thinking.

"Lupin?" James stared at him, brown eyes puzzled. "What's he got to do with anything?"

"Er…well…" Sirius stared at James for a long moment, his mind racing two steps ahead. If he told his friends how the teacher had been occupying his thoughts, it was likely he'd never hear the end of it. They'd jump to the wrong conclusion, he reasoned. If he told them that his sudden fascination with Remus had become worse, not better, since he'd decided that no more contact with him was a good idea, Peter or James would be bound to point out, if only in jest, that he, Sirius, was attracted to Lupin. Despite Sirius's assurances to himself that this was not the case, he sincerely doubted he would be able to argue coherently against it to his friends.

"He just seems…ill a lot," he eventually managed. "I mean, it's like every month. And we're always just told that he's off, never what he's ill from. Surely the hospital wing should be able to get rid of whatever it is without much trouble?"

"He's right," James said, distracted – much to Sirius's relief – from asking exactly why he'd been thinking about this so much.

"And I saw scars when…" Sirius's mouth snapped shut as he realised, too late, that neither James nor Peter were meant to know about his accidental nighttime excursion a couple of months ago.

"When…" James prompted, absently shoving his Butterbeer away and leaning forwards, arms folded on the table.

"When I…er…saw him getting changed in the…Quidditch changing rooms," Sirius said, a little too quickly. He winced as Peter raised one curious eyebrow, but was relieved that his friend decided not to comment. "The scars were all over his back and chest," he ploughed on, quickly. "And I'm willing to bet they were down his legs, as well." Some of them looked fairly new, whilst others looked like they'd almost healed over."

"But what kind of illness gives you scars?" Peter asked, dubiously. "Couldn't that be the result of something else?"

"Like what?" James demanded. "He's not the Care of Magical Creatures Professor – that's the only teaching job you'd expect to get hurt in."

"Well, maybe he had a dangerous job before he came to teach us," Peter suggested, but Sirius shook his head.

"Doubt it," he said. "He's too young. Besides, some of those scars didn't look more than two weeks old – several still had scabs on." He frowned. "Besides, I doubt anyone would hire someone who's not that much older than us to do a dangerous job."

"That's another thing," James said suddenly. "If he's so well qualified and intelligent that he can teach us at his age, then why hasn't some big magical company snapped him up and given him a high paying job? Why on earth is he teaching kids not that much younger than him, when he could do anything he wanted?" He frowned, glancing first at Peter, then at Sirius. "Doesn't make sense."

"No," Sirius agreed, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "I mean, Lupin's –"

"Lupin's what?" a sly, vicious voice interrupted, and all three of them looked up to discover Snape hovering nearby, his drink in one hand. Sirius immediately scowled, his eyes narrowing as his expression darkened dangerously. Peter blinked, unsure how Snape had come so close without any of them noticing, and James pursed his lips, looking faintly disgusted.

"Enjoy eavesdropping on other people's conversations, do you?" he asked, his tone acidic.

"When the topic is interesting, certainly." Snape didn't look at all remorseful as he casually leant back against the wall. "And what could be more interesting than our own dear, sweet Professor Lupin?" His black eyes glittered maliciously as Sirius let out a barely perceptible growl, his lips peeling back to bare his teeth in a clear warning.

"You don't even like Lupin," Peter pointed out, folding his arm. "So it's of no interest to you. Why don't you just push off?"

"On the contrary, Lupin's so…intriguing, wouldn't you agree, Sirius?"

Sirius didn't reply, he simply tensed further, his long fingers curling into white-knuckled fists.

"What, are you attracted to him or something, Snape?" James taunted, half shoving his chair back from the table so that if Sirius attempted to throttle the Slytherin, he'd be able to pull him off relatively quickly.

"Oh, I'm not." Again, Snape's gaze turned towards Sirius. "Unlike some freaks I could mention, I don't go for scruffy, unintelligent, dull-witted teachers. Besides, something like that could cause a lot of trouble if someone found out. Wouldn't you agree, Black?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Peter demanded, even as Sirius hissed angrily, his lips curling still further as he visibly restrained himself from hurling the nearest tankard at Snape's head.

Snape shrugged. "Nothing you'd understand, Pettigrew. After all, Potter hasn't explained it in idiot-speak to you, yet." He smiled, nastily. "I can't help it if you don't understand ordinary, everyday language." He laughed as Peter flushed, looking embarrassed. James, who had tried to remain reasonably calm, now began to think that Sirius had the right idea, and a little physical violence – which would preferably include a broken nose – would improve Snape's looks immensely.

"Be careful when you talk about Lupin," Snape continued, turning his attention back to Sirius. "You never know who might be listening. And you wouldn't want people to start thinking that something was up, now would you?" Smirking, he ignored James, who was now frowning in confusion, and stalked off towards a table in the corner where, Sirius noted with some disgust, Lucius Malfoy was waiting.

As soon as he was gone, James turned to Sirius.

"What was all that about?" he demanded.

Sirius shrugged, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, and the sudden flare of panic at the back of his mind.

"No idea," he lied.

AaAaAaAa

"TWO WEEKS!" Professor McGonagall's voice boomed through the large classroom. "TWO WEEKS, SAMANTHA PREWETT, AND YOU HAVE LOST YOUR MUSIC SHEETS!"

The small girl cowered further into the corner as her friends shrank back on either side of her, unwilling to draw attention to themselves as McGonagall continued to berate her. As Remus watched, the teacher actually stamped her foot, looking remarkably like an exasperated Victorian landlady, and shook her finger in the poor girl's face, still yelling at the top of her lungs.

Feeling rather glad that he was well out of range should McGonagall turn her attention elsewhere, he idly began sorting the pieces of paper on the desk into some semblance of order, writing down a list of the musicians, and which order they would be performing in. As he worked, his gaze kept flicking around the classroom, idly taking in the students that were milling around, clearly waiting for the rehearsal to start.

In one corner, several First Years were arguing over who would use the piano and which one of them would take the preferred piece of music. Sitting on some chairs to one side of them, a couple of students were avidly discussing the latest Quidditch match (Slytherin Vs Hufflepuff) and debating loudly whether if Lestrange had actually bothered to train his team, the Hufflepuffs would have stood a chance at all. Two girls were arguing over a music stand near Remus, and as he glanced past them, he caught sight of James, Peter – who had come along for moral support – and Sirius all huddled in the farthest corner of the room, their heads bent close together.

Frowning, Remus glanced back down at the papers, just as McGonagall stomped over, her expression still grim.

"Right," she snapped, "let's begin, shall we? Who's doing what?"

"Potter's singing first," Remus said mildly, "and Mr. Pettigrew has kindly offered to accompany him on the piano."

"What's he singing?"

"Well, I believe he was going to give us a rendition of 'A Wizard and His Staff', but he was talked out of it by several of his housemates."

"Good." McGonagall scowled "One bar of that and I would have been forced to murder him – even if it had cost us the prize. That song brings on too many bad flashbacks. I believe Mr Potter had a hand in creating those memories, as well." She sniffed indignantly and Remus hid a grin by shuffling the paperwork, handing it to her with a polite smile and then looking away hurriedly.

Unfortunately, his gaze landed on Sirius, who, for the first time in about three weeks, was actually staring at him.

Remus blinked, surprised. The dark haired boy was looking at him thoughtfully, apparently oblivious to James and Peter, who appeared to be bickering good-naturedly over a scrap of paper. As Remus watched Sirius appeared to hesitate, biting his lip; then, suddenly, he smiled tentatively at the surprised teacher. Settling his violin case more securely in his lap, his fingers fluttered once in a wave – imperceptible unless one had been paying close attention.

Remus was.

Swallowing he felt his mouth go dry, and shut his eyes for a moment. 'What is going on? He ignores me for weeks on end, then, suddenly, he starts being friendly again.' He frowned, opening his eyes, only to discover Sirius had turned away, and was staring thoughtfully out of the window, still not deigning to notice Peter and James, who had given up arguing and were now making paper aeroplanes.

'This is stupid.' Remus decided. 'He's just playing a game. But…' he hesitated, staring blankly down at the desk. 'But…I want to be his friend. Nothing else,' he reminded himself firmly, 'but he needs help. Dumbledore saw I could, perhaps, get him through a difficult period of his life. Maybe…maybe I can. Maybe we can be friends. I didn't like it when he wouldn't really talk to me.'

Feeling slightly disturbed at this revelation, he looked up just in time to catch James launching into his opening piece – something that had tactfully been chosen by Peter, and contained nothing that could possibly upset McGonagall or bring on her flashbacks.

AaAaAaAa

'He was looking at me…' Sirius smiled at the thought, feeling a small fizz of pleasure despite his resolution not to think about Remus. 'He was looking at me, and when I played, he was paying attention to only me.' The possessive note in his own mind startled him somewhat, and he frowned, his contented state evaporating as he wrested his violin back into its case, strapping the lid down tightly.

The rehearsal was over, and apart from a small mishap involving the piano stall and an irritated Sixth Year, everything had gone well. Even McGonagall had seemed pleased as she dismissed them. She had given James several encouraging remarks as she and Lupin carefully went through each act, and by the end everyone had begun to feel positive that they could beat the other Houses, including – and, perhaps, especially – Slytherin.

Sirius shook his head, suppressing another smile as he ran his fingers idly over the leather of the violin case. McGonagall hadn't said anything when he'd finished – she'd simply stared at him for a moment, then nodded approvingly. Remus hadn't said anything either, but Sirius hadn't needed his words of approval. The young teacher had watched, gaze riveted, as Sirius had played his piece, and Sirius was certain that had he had a romantically inclined mind, he would have said that the world had faded to just the two of them. Lupin's gaze had been…avid. Hungry. He shivered remembering it, and how everything else had seemed suddenly inconsequential, except for the fact that he was playing for Remus and Remus alone.

Shaking himself, he banished the thought to the back of his mind, furious that he had caught himself daydreaming again.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, and Sirius jumped, realising that he had lingered too long in the classroom. All the other students had vanished – even James and Peter. Dinner was no doubt waiting for him down in the Great Hall, so he picked up his violin case, turning to go.

Remus was standing in the doorway.

"Oh…hello." Sirius was pleased that his voice was so calm. Blacks didn't show weaknesses, and he was certain that had he not been taught this from birth, he'd have been a heap of nerves on the floor by now.

"Hello." Remus cleared his throat. "I, um. I wanted to tell you how good your playing was this evening." He smiled awkwardly. "Sorry if I startled you, I didn't mean to sneak up quite so quietly."

"That's ok." Sirius set the violin case back on the desk with a quick, precise movement, and perched next to it. "It was nice of you to come back just to say that." His tone of voice, he noted irritably, had somehow swung from calm and collected to just a little bit shy. He frowned as Remus blinked, clearly as surprised as he was at the sudden change in his attitude, and bit his lip.

"Look, Sirius," Remus hesitantly walked towards him and leant against the desk next to him. "I know things haven't exactly been…normal…between us. But I'd like…I'd like to be your friend. If that's possible." He sighed, staring thoughtfully at the floor. "I thought you might need someone to talk to if there was something you didn't want to confide in James and Peter about."

"Ah…thanks." Sirius linked his fingers together, glancing sideways at the young teacher. "That's really nice of you." Pulling some hair over one shoulder, he fiddled absently with it.

"Not at all."

An awkward silence fell, and Sirius was just about to break it, when he felt a hand on his arm. He swallowed, blinking dizzily, mouth suddenly dry, his pulse racing. 'Stop it,' he commanded himself fiercely. 'Stop it, stop it, stop it.' Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, unconsciously licking his lips. Next to him, he heard Remus's breath hitch and felt his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on his arm.

"Sirius…" Remus's voice was low, his tone warning. He thought Sirius was behaving this way on purpose, to tempt him again. Sirius nearly laughed out loud, conscious that, for the first time in his life, none of his actions had been premeditated. He opened his eyes, gaze seeking that of the teacher's.

"Remus…" His own voice – God! How different it sounded. Lower, slightly husky. 'Pathetic,' he railed at himself in his mind. 'You sound pathetic. Mother was right, I am an attention seeking little whore. This has got to stop. Now.' He shuddered, trying to focus his thoughts – concentrating on anything but the idea that he and Remus were alone in a classroom and that he could, if he wanted, manipulate the teacher into taking advantage of the situation. He whimpered low in his throat at this thought, not realising he had made a sound until he registered that Remus was staring at him, eyes wide, breathing slightly faster than normal.

"Stop it," Remus's voice was a harsh whisper that echoed around the empty classroom. "Stop doing this. It's not funny, Sirius. It's not right, either." It seemed as though he was reprimanding himself, as well. "I'm your teacher and you keep…" he trailed off and swallowed hard. Sirius's eyes traced the fascinating movement of his throat, momentarily distracted from the teacher's words.

"I'm not doing anything." Sirius raised his eyes again, meeting Remus's gaze squarely. "I'm not doing anything," he repeated as Remus exhaled sharply and moved suddenly to grip his shoulders.

"You are! And I refuse to be caught up in your silly seduction game, Sirius!" Remus's voice was becoming angry.

"Well you wouldn't know it was seduction if you weren't already thinking about me in that way!" Sirius spat, stiffening defensively. "Who's the more foolish, Professor? There has to be some potential there for this 'seduction' to work in the first place." He was getting angry now, he could feel it, and the worst thing was, he wasn't sure why. He'd heard far worse accusations in his life.

"How dare you!" Remus's voice was cold. "Why would I think about you in that way?" He was lying, and both could tell. "I'm your teacher."

"So you keep saying." Sirius smiled nastily, aware even as he did so that he was behaving no better than a Slytherin. "But that didn't seem to stop you before. Tell me, Professor," he continued, shoving Remus back a couple of steps and sliding off the desk. "Does it make you hot, thinking about me?" His leer was more like a snarl as he stepped menacingly towards Remus, who unintentionally stepped back. "Do you want me to seduce you? Do you like the idea of having me across a desk? Fucking me until I scream?" He yanked off his school robes in one swift, angry movement, dropping them on the floor in a crumpled heap.

"Don't –" Remus began, panic flaring in his eyes, but Sirius had already wrenched off his tie as well, flinging it away. Striding across to Remus, he shoved him against the wall, using his greater height to pin him there. His some of hi dark hair had escaped from its customary tail, and was falling haphazardly around his face, giving him a dangerous, feral expression. He leant closer to Remus, lips parted in something that wasn't quite a snarl.

"This is seduction, Professor Lupin," he hissed from between gritted teeth. "Because despite the fact that I can see you panicking, you couldn't say no to me. You want me." He leant closer still, until his nose was brushing Remus's.

"Stop it…" Remus's voice was breathless, but still angry. "Stop it, Sirius." He struggled, shoving Sirius hard so that he fell back a couple of steps, then pushed away from the wall, hands curled into fists. Striding forwards, he grabbed his student by the collar. "Enough," he snapped. "You've made your point."

Sirius's lips curled into a smile, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at the teacher. "Have I?" he asked. "I doubt it. You think this is all deliberate – contrived. Well it's not." He paused, suddenly, breath hitching as Remus's grip tightened, dragging him closer. "None of this was planned, Professor. It's not deliberate and I genuinely wanted to accept your offer of friendship. But I don't think we can be friends, you and I."

Leaning down, he crushed his lips to Remus', devouring his mouth. The kiss was not gentle, or sweet; it was a deliberate, hungry move and one that was born of anger and desperation. Remus froze for the briefest of seconds, before kissing back. Before he could properly respond, however, Sirius pushed him abruptly away.

"You see?" The dark haired boy's voice was still angry. "You see what you're doing to me?" He hissed in frustration. "When you're around, suddenly I'm not in control of myself. Why is that? I'm Sirius Black, I should be able to keep my head in any situation, but you," he spat the word with something that wasn't quite anger and wasn't quite despair, "you're making me go crazy, and I don't know what to think."

Behind the angry words, Remus detected a note of panic, and it was this more than anything that made his anger turn sharply into despair.

Releasing Sirius's collar, he staggered back, his eyes dropping to the floor. Ignoring the sting in his palm where Sirius's silver Hogwarts badge had burnt a circular mark, he paused, trying to gather his thoughts. For a moment the only sound in the room was Sirius's ragged breathing, then he lifted his head, gazing at his pupil, who was staring at him, still looking dishevelled.

"What a pair we make," he said softly, his words dropping heavily into the silence of the room. "We're both so scared of our own shadows that we can't even talk about this like adults." He laughed, hollowly, as Sirius continued to stare at him, grey eyes wide. "I can understand your position, Sirius," he continued reluctantly, "because I feel the same way, and believe me, I'd give everything I possess not to. But I do. So we're going to have to think of something."

Sirius looked at him, mistrust evident in his expression. Finally, he spoke.

"What do you have in mind?"

To Be Continued…

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