A/N: Guess what? I still don't own em! A reminder: bold italics are flashbacks. Also, I originally wrote the flashbacks in this chapter in the past tense, but it got a little confusing so I switched to the present. There will probably be lots of mistakes in that department at least.

Thanks to: Crystal Blue Dry Ice, lostjackal and KawaiiTenshi27 for reviewing the last chapter.

and in answer to your question KawaiiTenshi27: I seem to have misplaced both the movie and the book, so this is based entirely on my memory and my imagination. So feel free to correct me if I screw something up.

I will mainly be updating at weekends because I have ridiculously small amounts of time to myself. I hope to get at least one more chapter up this weekend, provided I don't get stuck writing it.

Of Lesson Plans and Questionably Large Closets

Remus watched the flames in the sizable fireplace adorning the Teacher's Lounge devour the dead wood placed there for that purpose. He contemplated the parchment laid out on the desk in front of him and sighed. His eyes flickered towards the sheet of parchment next to his teaching timetable entitled 'Third Year Gryffindor/Slytherin Lesson Plan.' The rest of the sheet was blank. The feathers of his large grey quill tapped against the side of his face as he thought carefully. A Gryffindor/Slytherin class. He couldn't imagine this going well at all. During his time attending Hogwarts, pairing up Gryffindor and Slytherin classes was always a bad idea - the rivalry between them had always been much more than simple House competition, but it was Albus's plan. He couldn't do anything about it.

Remus plucked the quill out of the air, dipped it in the bottle of red ink, and poised it above the page. It hovered there for a moment, before the scarred hands that held it let it fall on to the parchment, splashing red ink all over the page.

He groaned irritably and waved his hand over the offending object, muttering a cleaning spell under his breath. His wand remained in a holster on his hip. He barely ever used it. His wand was for strong, concentrated spells, nothing like what he would need to use during his stay at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

A brief glance around the room showed him that Minerva was already marking her sixth year essays and Severus was scrawling in blood coloured ink over a certain unfortunate person's summer homework. Judging from the hisses and mutters of 'incompetent fools' said person was a Gryffindor. Filius Flitwick was perched next to the Wizarding Wireless drinking a cup of tea. This drew the DADA Professor's attention to his own cup. Sweetened with honey, as was his preference. He lifted it to his lips and took a sip.

Filius turned up the Wireless.

"-Black is still on the loose! The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge assures the public that once this traitorous murderer is caught, he will receive something special. A Kiss from one of the acclaimed Dementors of Azkaban."

Remus choked on his tea, spraying his mouthful across the room and breaking out into a fit of powerful coughs.

"Oh dear," Minerva tutted. "Are you okay Remus?"

"Yes!" He choked out. "Yes! Fine! I think I'll just go for a walk.." He all but ran out of the room, honey sweetened tea and Gryffindor/Slytherin lesson plan forgotten. The voice of the Wireless followed him out.

"Surely a man like Black deserves no less?"

The corridors of Hogwarts were as cold and emotionless as usual, but Remus didn't notice. His swift stride did not break until he reached a door. The door of a storeroom. There was a golden plaque on the door, labelled "Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration Resource Room."

The empty lesson plan pushed the aching memory of Sirius from his brain. Perhaps there was something in this room that would give him inspiration. He opened the door and stepped in, raising his wand.

"Lumos."

His eyes fell over the huge shelves of books and cages, props and aids. Something in his mind pulled him further in to the seemingly endless storeroom. A figure at what appeared to be the back of the storeroom caught his eye. As he moved closer, he realised that what he had automatically taken for one person was actually two. From their height he would guess at Seventh Years, but it really was too dark to see. Teeth indented his lower lip, as he pulled his wistful gaze away from the couple and cleared his throat.

Predictably, they jumped guiltily apart, mumbling apologies. Remus was thankful that the darkness hid his indulgent smile. With the light of his wand, he pointed them in the direction of the exit and bid them not to take any detours on their way to their next class.

The cupboard to his left began to rattle.

Ten minutes later, the werewolf emerged from the room, a crate hovering complacently in front of him. He had discovered the answer to his Gryffindor/Slytherin problem. Unfortunately, this was the least of his worries.

Darkness was falling, closing in around the castle, as Remus made his way over to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and his personal office. He transferred the creature in the box to a suitably threatening closet and locked the room. The voice from the Wizarding Wireless news pried its way back into his mind. "Black deserves no less."

He was so distracted by his thoughts, that he barely acknowledged the figure of a certain Overgrown Bat stalking the corridors. If it weren't for this particular person deciding to grace Remus with the honour of his speech, the werewolf wouldn't have noticed him.

"Ah. Lupin. Never thought I'd see the day when you came back here."

Remus stiffened and forced a polite smile on to his features. "Severus."

The Potions Master looked like he had just bitten a lemon. A particularly sour lemon. "You want to be careful. I know something that I could accidentally let slip during one of my classes. Wouldn't that be disastrous for you?"

He forcibly held the smile in place, resisting the urge to draw his wand and hex the Bat into the seventh level of Hell.

Severus hissed irritably. "Your Potion will be on your desk when it is needed." He swept off, clearly in a bit of a huff.

"Good night Severus!" Remus called back good-naturedly whilst mentally cursing the Slytherin in every language he knew. (English... English... and English.)

"Surpensortia!" The greasy haired Slytherin screeches.

"Petrificus Totalus." Returns a taller boy, also with dark hair, albeit much less greasy.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

The snake is tossed out of the window by James's spell.

"Hurry up! We're going to be late for Transfiguration!" Remus, small and skinny runs into the picture, robes slipping off his shoulders. He skids to a halt in front of the scene, mouth forming a small 'o' at the situation. "What...?"

"Never mind him, Moony." The dark haired boy grabs one of Remus's arms and turns him around.

"Yeah," James added. "McGonnagal will throw a fit if we're late." He grips Remus's other arm.

"But we can't just leave him-"

"Slughorn or Filch will find him. Come on Remmie, you don't want to be late do you?"

Remus shook himself out of his memories, feeling the heavy blanket of guilt, confusion and anguish that came with the memories of his past settle back over his shoulders. It became more difficult for him to stand upright, so he made his way to his quarters, slightly slouched and hunched over.

Upon reaching his rooms, he dropped down into an armchair, lit a fire in the grate and poured himself a glass of firewhiskey. He swirled it uselessly around the bottom of the crystal glass, contemplating the comforting amber colour. On the other side of his room, a silver bowl sullenly oozed silver vapour. Along the rim were runes that spelled out his name.

A bowl full of his most irritating, painful or confusing memories, there for closer examination whenever he needed it. Some of his best memories occupied that bowl also, to allow him reprieves from his imminent depression, but even they became cause for more questions and confusion of late.

Remus was sure that anyone who got close to him was in danger. His first friends for example. Peter Pettigrew - murdered by another friend, James Potter - Killed by the Dark Lord, Lily Potter - Also killed by the Dark Lord and Sirius Black - Escapee of Azkaban after twelve years of imprisonment and murderer of Peter Pettigrew. And look at himself. Sat in an armchair, fearing his own memories, with confused depression settled in a discomforting blanket around his shoulders. A glass of untouched firewhiskey in his hand, anticipating and fearing any further news of Sirius.

It appeared his Penseive required adding to.

Silvery threads of whispering memory, drawn out from his mind by the ten and a half inch Cherry and Phoenix feather wand, slithered into the Penseive, swirling around a few times before sinking deep into the quivering mass.

A sick-sounding pop alerted him to the presence of a wizened head in his fireplace.

"Ah! Good Evening Remus. I trust your lessons are going well?"

The werewolf knelt before the fire. "As well as can be expected." He rubbed his temples. "I don't think I'm cut out for teaching."

"Oh nonsense. I seem to remember Remus, that you were once close to Sirius Black."

Ah! Now here was Albus's real reason for stopping by. "We were good friends. During our time at Hogwarts that is."

"I see. Well, the question I've been meaning to ask you is thus: If he came to you, asking for aid, would you refuse?"

Remus sighed tiredly. "Albus, that is the question I have been asking myself since his escape. I like to think that I would be able to refuse, but if it came down to it, well, I don't know. It's difficult to forget."

The floating head nodded. "I would expect no more. Thank you Remus. Good night."

As usual, the werewolf had the strange sense that he had told the Headmaster even more than he had thought, revealing his emotions in his body language. Once again, his conversation with Albus had seemed, at best, whimsical on the outside, but if you scratched all the way down, Remus was sure you would find something significant that he had accidentally revealed to the Headmaster.

A sharp throbbing signified the beginning of a painful tension headache. He was struck again with the thought that perhaps, he should have told Albus about what Sirius, James and Peter had done for him, but every time he opened his mouth to betray this particular secret, the words choked in his throat. He could not do it. Despite everything he had done, Sirius had risked a lot to learn the Animagus spell. And it was all for Remus. He could not betray that.

The dark haired youth leaps through the portrait, almost crushing the smaller boy about to leave. He grips Remus by both shoulders and hugs him happily.

"We did it!" He announces.

Remus blinks owlishly.

"What this idiot means to say," James corrects, "is that we have perfected the Animagus spell."

"Yes!"

Remus finds himself squeezed painfully again.

"It took us three years, but we finally did it! Now you don't have to be alone!"

"Even I can do it!" Squeaks Peter, happy to be able to aid the werewolf.

Remus is deliriously happy. He brushes tears from his eyes, grinning and laughing. It is great to have friends.

Remus wiped a solitary tear from his cheek, and blinked back the others that threatened to fall. He snatched up the glass of firewhiskey and downed the whole lot, grateful for the distraction of the hot burning down his throat.

It was not called firewhiskey for no reason, after all.

A/N: See you next chapter! If you haven't died of boredom already