A few more days passed, and all seemed well. On August seventh, Remus woke up from an afternoon nap, sat up, stretched... and then fell off the bed.

Someone was forcefully knocking on the door. Remus, with his enhanced senses, recognized the scent of the person immediately. He knew who this was.

"Goodness," Remus heard his mum mutter. "Are they trying to knock down our door with a battering ram?" He heard her get up off the couch, but he didn't move. He was frozen. He kind of wanted to hide. Could he squeeze inside his laundry basket? Probably not. Or maybe under the bed? No, too predictable. Oh, fiddlesticks, his room was far too small for a proper hiding place.

"Afternoon," came the voice that Remus knew all too well. "Terribly sorry to bother you, but I was told that it was proper etiquette or whatever to come visit the other house in the area. I'm moving to the other one at the end of the hill, and I figured I might as well come say hello... you know, seeing as we're the only two houses up here."

Remus' mouth dropped open. His house was on a hill next to a town (the town was at the bottom of the hill, about a mile away), and there was only one other house on the hill. No one had lived in it since the Lupins had moved about two years ago. No, Remus thought. Nope. No. Absolutely not.

As Remus continued his silent internal mantra, the voice at the door paused. "You look familiar," the voice said. "Why do you look familiar?"

"I've no idea why I look familiar," said Remus' mum impatiently. "Why are you here?"

"I just told you. Were you listening? I was told that it was proper etiquette or whatever to..." Now the voice was was cut off by Remus' father, who had presumably joined his wife in front of the door. "Oh, no," he heard the voice say. "You look terribly familiar. That's never a good thing. Merlin's beard. Is it..." The voice paused again. "Relative of... you're Bryson Lupin, right?"

"I'm Lyall Lupin," Remus' father corrected. "Do you... do you know my brother?"

There was a long silence. "Lyall Lupin?"

"Yes. You look familiar as well, come to think of it."

Another long silence.

"I knew I recognized you, but I didn't really want to believe it. I am going to kill Dumbledore," Remus heard the voice say flatly. "Murder him. In cold blood."

"So... who are you, exactly?" Remus' father asked, clearly concerned that he was dealing with a psychopathic murderer.

Yet another long pause.

"...John Questus. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but I'd be lying."

"Oh!" said Remus' mum. "You're Remus' Defense Against the Dark Arts professor! He's said so much about you!"

"Has he, now?" said Questus in the same flat tone. "Well, I'm not his professor anymore."

"Why are you here?" Remus' father reiterated impatiently.

"I've already told you twice. I was looking for a house, and Albus Dumbledore—that horrible man—recommended that one." Remus assumed that Professor Questus was gesturing in the direction of the house down the road. "I thought that I should let the other household know that I was moving in, so as not to alarm anyone... but now I sort of wish I hadn't."

"You're just as pleasant as I expected you to be," said Remus' father rudely, "based off of the letter you sent us in December."

Remus cringed. He remembered that letter. Madam Pomfrey had had to take care of an emergency during the first December full moon, and Questus had come to take Remus back to the Hospital Wing after the full moon. He'd sent Remus' parents a rather short letter detailing his condition, apparently, and it hadn't left a very good first impression of Professor John Questus.

"Goodness. I see that your son has not inherited your cheery disposition," said Professor Questus, and Remus stuffed his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing. Or crying. He was kind of horrified by the whole situation. "I had left on such good terms, too," continued Professor Questus. "I mean, for me, at least. I hate goodbyes. Where is he, exactly? I assume he's home. It's not like he can go anywhere else without being chased after with a pitchfork by the innocent townsfolk... or the three little pigs... or Little Red Riding Hood. Or something."

No, please stop it, begged Remus silently. Cut the werewolf references. My parents don't do werewolf jokes, Professor. SHUT UP.

"He's upstairs," said Remus' father shortly. "And he's sleeping."

"I'm going to wake him," said Remus' mother.

"Oh, no, you are not," said Remus' father. "I should think he rather needs his sleep."

"I should think he rather does," agreed Questus. "I can leave if you want me to. He never has to find out."

"Well, that's cruel," said Remus' mum, evidently shocked. "You were his favorite professor!"

"For unknown reasons," added Remus' dad in an undertone.

"I seriously doubt I was his favorite, Lupin. Lupins. Plural. Oh, no, this is too much." A silence and a sigh. Remus could just imagine Professor Questus rubbing the bridge of his nose. Remus climbed back onto his bed as quietly as possible. He knew his parents didn't have his werewolf hearing, but he also knew that, the second he made any sort of noise, it was all over. He managed to get back onto the bed with minimal noises, and he breathed a very quiet sigh of relief. He was safe.

"Actually, I don't think he is asleep," said Questus, and Remus froze. He wasn't safe.

"And how would you know that?" asked Remus' father.

"He always does wake up at the most inopportune times; usually when I show up. It's this unfortunate habit he has, almost like he's essential to the plot of a story." Questus sighed yet again. "Do go check on him, at least. I'd like to get this over with."

"Hope, don't," said Remus' dad. "We don't know if this man is who he says he is..."

Remus could feel his mother rolling her eyes all the way from upstairs. "Well, there's a pretty simple way to check that, isn't there? You're always like this, Lyall; you decide you don't like somebody and then that's that. REMUS LUPIN, I'M GOING TO ASSUME THAT YOU HEARD THE WHOLE THING. THERE'S NO WAY YOU'RE STILL SLEEPING AFTER ALL THE SHOUTING THAT YOUR FATHER JUST DID."

Remus sighed. The jig was up. "I'm sleeping, Mum," he called.

"YEAH, RIGHT. DOWN HERE. NOW."

"Yep, fast asleep," said Remus. "And you don't have to shout. You're hurting my ears."

"What did he say?" his mum asked.

"I believe he told you that you don't have to shout," said Questus, sounding amused. "For the mother of a werewolf, you have pretty awful hearing."

"It's not genetic and you know it," said Remus' mother, and the flippant comment about Remus' condition surprised him greatly. Maybe Professor Questus' attitude was contagious or something—Remus' mother usually spoke about werewolves and lycanthropy in reverent, teary whispers. "REMUS!" she shouted again.

"Seriously, Mum, you don't have to shout."

"AT LEAST TELL US THAT HE IS WHO HE SAYS HE IS!" Remus' mum was clearly ignoring Remus' wishes that she would be quieter. She always did; Remus thought that it had something to do with his tendency to ignore her when she spoke in normal tones.

There was a long silence, and then Remus finally worked up the courage to say, "Yes, he is."

Remus' mum made a small noise of disbelief. "WAS THAT REALLY SO HARD?" she shouted. And then, quieter: "I'm going to get him, Lyall."

"I'll do it," said Remus' father. "I don't know what you think you're going to do—physically drag him down here? I'll handle this one."

There was a loud cracking noise that Remus heard both downstairs and in his bedroom, and then his father was standing in front of him. "I don't know what you're playing at, Remus," he said, grabbing Remus' arm—right on a wound from the previous full moon. Remus yelped in pain.

"Wait, Dad, let me at least..."

He didn't even finish before the familiar feeling of Apparating washed over him and he was standing downstairs. "Dad, let go of my arm," he said, teeth gritted. He stole a glance at the familiar Professor Questus, who only looked amused. "My arm, Dad, let go of my..."

"Not until I can be sure you won't run back to your room."

"That would be pretty tough to do, seeing as I can't walk upstairs," Remus reminded him. Indeed, his leg had been so damaged after the full that his father had been Apparating him up and down the stairs for days. But, despite the solid logic, Remus' father did not let go. "At least..." Remus felt his eyes water. "Move your hand! Here, hold my wrist instead. Dad! You're hurting me!"

Remus' father blinked twice, apparently coming to his senses. "Ah, I'm sorry, Remus!" He let go of Remus' arm completely and stepped away. "Oh, I'm so sorry..."

Remus smiled and rubbed his arm. "No harm done. Er..." Long silence. "Hi, Professor."

Questus rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, do not call me that."

Something was off.

"Something's off," said Remus. "Wait... something's..." He inhaled. "Something's off," he repeated. He wasn't sure what it was, exactly, but something was definitely off.

Questus raised an eyebrow. "What is off, exactly? Is it the fact that I'm standing at your doorstep in the middle of summer? Because, believe me, that bothers me just as much as it bothers you."

"I..." Remus couldn't put his finger on it. Professor Questus smelled different, somehow, like there was something else there. He wasn't sure what it was, but it made him feel a little weird. "Like..."

Questus looked the same as always. Brown hair, somewhat grey... his beard was a bit scruffier, Remus thought, but that didn't account for whatever was wrong... his eyes were the same shade as always... he was wearing his spectacles—the thin wire ones that he only ever wore when he was tired—but even his robes were the same. And his constantly-exasperated expression was most certainly similar. "Well, you're bleeding, for starters," Remus said finally.

"I know."

"You should probably... fix that," said Remus. "And something else is off, too..."

Questus nodded. "Must say I'm impressed. Didn't expect you to notice it. I'd tell you, but it's a long, long story..."

"Come in," Remus' mum suggested. Remus looked at his father, who was sort of staring off into space.

"I like it out here, thanks," said Questus stiffly. "Nice weather we're having."

Remus' mother openly scoffed at that. "Well, you're letting in bugs. So... in or out?"

"Out, thank you very much."

"Wait, no!" said Remus. "No. You can't just... now I'm curious!"

"Good for you," said Questus.

"I think I've given you enough answers that you owe me a couple," said Remus, referencing Questus' constant, uncomfortable curiosity about lycanthropy when he'd been Remus' teacher.

There was a brief, stunned silence, but Remus wasn't really worried about being disrespectful anymore; it wasn't like Questus could take points from Gryffindor or put him in detention. But he didn't want to offend him, either. And he certainly didn't want to explain to his parents exactly what kind of "answers" he'd given Questus. They wouldn't understand at all.

Then Questus, to Remus' great relief, broke the silence and laughed. "Yes, I suppose you're right." He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Nice house," he said.

"That's what Madam Pomfrey said," Remus mumbled.

"Pomfrey? Did she come here?"

"Never mind."

"The sitting room is this way," said Remus' mum, gesturing for them to follow. "There are two chairs and one couch..."

"And I'll make tea," said Remus' father abruptly.

Questus waved his hand. "No, that won't be necessary," he said, but Remus' father ran into the kitchen without even waiting for Questus to finish the whole sentence.

"He probably won't even serve it," said Remus. "He likes to make tea more than he likes to drink it, I think. Here, Mum; I'll take the couch with Dad and make sure he doesn't..."

"...go mad," finished his mother. "Yes, please do." She sat in a chair, and Questus took the other with a nonchalant shrug. "I believe introductions are in order," she said.

"I'll start," said Remus, grinning. "Hi, I'm Remus Lupin, and..."

"Nice to meet you," interrupted his smiling mother. She turned to Questus. "I'm Hope. I don't believe we've met. What would you like me to call you?"

"Oh, I don't really care," said Questus. "I've got no titles or anything. You can call me John, or Questus, or literally whatever you'd like. As long as it's not 'Voldemort', of course, because that would be politically insensitive. And, for the record, I don't do first names. So I'm going to keep your name at Mrs. Lupin."

Remus looked up. "Well, you do have a title now, don't you? Since you're an Auror?"

"Nope," said Questus. "I used to be an Auror."

"Er... you lasted... a month?"

"Not even."

Remus blinked. "It didn't have anything to do with Sirius' family?"

"Nope." The kettle suddenly started whistling, and Questus flinched. "That's loud, for a kettle."

"Yours is louder," said Remus dismissively, annoyed that he kept changing the subject. It was such a Questus-y thing to do, to drop a couple hints and then start talking about something else. "How did you get sacked?"

"Didn't get sacked. Sort of quit. Retired. Kind of." Questus ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I was up in the North on Auror business—trying to catch a few Dark wizards claiming to be supporters of Voldemort—and I got careless. Out-of-practice, you know. Got too close to something I shouldn't have, and..." He made an odd hand motion; Remus wasn't sure what it was supposed to be. "Dark magic. Dark curse. No one knows for sure what it is. Now my leg is bleeding and we can't stem it. I have to take Blood-Replenishing Potions on the hour, and it's bandaged up pretty tightly." He shrugged. "So... I'm not sure what was 'off' (as you so eloquently put it), but it's either the Dark magic in my system that you're sensing or the fact that all the blood in my body has been replaced in a little more than a week. Or perhaps the potions. Any of the above is impressive."

"So..."

"So I'm no longer an Auror. It's impossible in my current state. Maybe I'll join again if I can figure out what's wrong with me."

"And if you can't figure it out?" said Remus' mother in a hushed voice.

"Then I'll either die or spend the rest of my life drinking these disgusting Blood-Replenishing Potions. The first option is preferable." Remus laughed a little, and Questus winked at him almost imperceptibly. "So I needed a place without a lot of visitors, where I wouldn't be tempted to..."

"Overexert yourself," said Remus, quoting Madam Pomfrey.

"Ugh. Yes. I'm supposed to stay off my leg, but... that's not happening. You know, I didn't think that it was possible for Pomfrey to hate me more than she already does, but I've ignored the vast majority of her orders recently. Now I think her fondness for me has descended from naught into negative numbers."

"I ignore her too, sometimes, and she likes me just fine," said Remus helpfully. "But no, in your case, she probably hates you for it."

Remus' father came in with the tea. "Would anyone like some?" he asked. He was trying to be polite, Remus noticed, and he was thankful for the fact.

"No," said Remus. "You used salt instead of sugar."

Remus' father rubbed his face, exasperated, and he set the tray down on the kitchen counter before collapsing on the couch next to Remus. "John. Good to see you... again."

"Oh, stop it with the formalities," said Questus. "It's okay if you don't like me. Most don't. Pomfrey doesn't, Orion Black certainly doesn't, Jenkins doesn't care for me, and neither do most of the Aurors—come to think of it, all the Aurors dislike me for one reason or another. When I taught at Hogwarts, I'd say everybody except Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and... Nope, only two people in the entire school didn't hate me. Sorry for putting words in your mouth, Lupin. You liked me, didn't you?"

"Absolutely not," said Remus.

"That's a yes, then. Point being. I don't care, you can dislike me all you want. In fact, I was just planning on staying in my house all day and every day. All I wanted to do was tell you that I live here now, and..." He groaned. "You know, I'm pretty sure Dumbledore did hate me, actually." He looked at Remus. "Does he know where you..."

"He knows where I live," Remus affirmed.

"Of course he does. So he recommended this house to me on purpose. Suppose he still expects me to give you duelling lessons. I'm not going to, by the way."

"Okay," said Remus.

"And I'm not helping after the full moons."

"Please don't," said Remus.

"And I'm definitely not making you Defense Against the Dark Arts notes when you miss class."

"Sounds good," said Remus.

"And I am under no circumstances teaching at Hogwarts ever again."

"Wonderful," said Remus.

Questus stood up, wincing a little, and raised his eyebrows again. "Well, that's enough unbearable awkwardness for one day. I'm going back to the house and unpacking a bit more."

"Do you need help?" asked Remus' mum. "I'm not sure how injured you are, exactly."

"I'm a wizard," said Questus. "And a highly accomplished one at that... albeit stupid enough to get myself kicked out of the Department again after less than a month. Anyway. I'll be fine."

Remus heard the door shut, and then he turned to his mother.

"Well, he seemed... pleasant," she said.

Remus laughed out loud. "No, he's not."

And that was part of what Remus liked about Professor Questus.

But he definitely did not want to be neighbors.

"Remus, this is wonderful!" said Remus' mother, taking Remus' hands in hers. Remus made a face and pulled his hands away, but his mother was undeterred and kept talking nonsense. "You like him, don't you? And he likes you. And he already knows about you, so we won't have to move! It'll be nice to have company in the area again. So what's the problem? You've been sulking all day."

"First off," said Remus, "it's pretty awful that he was sacked again. He really, really liked being an Auror, Mum. Talked about it all the time."

"Well, he can go back, after that... what was it, a curse?... after they figure out what it is, right?"

"Some curses can't be healed," Remus mumbled, and Remus' mum looked stricken. Remus regretted the fact that he'd said anything at all. "Maybe they will," he corrected in a too-cheerful voice. "But he's going to hate living here. Not enough excitement. And... well, it's awkward."

"What makes it awkward? You've known each other for a year! And I can't say I like him much, but he seems understanding enough."

"He's my teacher, Mum! It's awkward seeing teachers outside of school."

"Well, he's not your teacher anymore. And it didn't seem that awkward with Madam Pomfrey."

"It was!" said Remus. "And he's going to be even more awkward with Professor Questus, because Madam Pomfrey can switch from teacher-mode to person-mode. She wasn't speaking in her Matron Voice, and she was calling me by my first name, and we were chatting and things. Professor Questus won't do that. He doesn't have multiple modes. He'll just... be the same, and then it'll be awkward."

"I don't like him at all," said Remus' father. "Not one bit. Did you hear how he spoke to Remus? Did you hear how awfully disappointed he was about living next to a student that he supposedly liked? Did you hear how sarcastic and rude he was? Did you hear how many times he referenced Remus' condition?"

"Dad," said Remus. "You're sarcastic and rude all the time. It's called a joke."

"But...!"

"Look, Professor Questus was the only one of my teachers to visit me in the Hospital Wing after every single full moon. He made me notes and taught me the whole lesson afterwards. The other ones just assumed that I was getting notes from my friends... but James and Sirius don't take notes, and no one can read Peter's, so I just operated off of the topic and subject matter and research it in the library. But Professor Questus went above and beyond. He gave me duelling lessons two hours a week, just for fun. I went and talked to him whenever I was worried about something, because he doesn't lie..."

"As opposed to the other teachers, who do lie?" asked Remus' mother, looking disturbed.

"Not... not exactly. He just... says what he's thinking, so I don't have to guess. He's not good in social situations, but he's nice when you get to know him. We'd talk over tea, sometimes, about things..."

"See, that sounds nice!" said Remus' mum. "You can still do that now..."

"That's awkward!" Remus groaned. "It was a school thing, not a home thing! My point is, he's not a horrible person, even if he seems like one. It's just... he's a teacher! Not one of my friends!"

"Well," said Remus' mother firmly. "We're making him a pie, and you're going to take it over tomorrow."

"Mum! He won't like that, trust me."

"I am determined to be a good neighbor to him. He's injured and hurting."

"He doesn't care. I don't think he can even feel pain. He might be a robot."

"It's the nice thing to do."

"Then do it yourself."

"Nope. It's your job."

"Why?!"

"Because he knows you and he doesn't seem to like us."

"He doesn't seem to like anyone, especially when he's uncomfortable. That's just how he is."

"Remus! He's ill, he has no job, he had to move away, and you're the only familiar thing to him! So be a good neighbor, for goodness' sake!"

"He's not going to like that," Remus grumped. "He hates good neighbors. Too warm-and-welcoming. He'd rather I be cold-and-distant, I think."

"I don't care."

"Hope, reconsider..." tried Remus' father. "Wizarding customs are..."

"Don't pull that on me! I know for a fact that greeting a neighbor is not impolite in the wizarding world, since he just did it to us."

Remus groaned and fell back onto the couch. "Mum, my leg isn't feeling great..."

"Oh, don't pull that one on me, either. Now help me make a pie. What flavor do you think he'll like?"

"I don't know," said Remus dully. "He was my teacher, not my friend."

"Apple, then," Remus' mum decided. "Help me make it. Lyall, you're helping too. If you can add sugar instead of salt, that is."

Remus glanced at his father, and both of them sighed in perfect unison.

Remus had liked Professor Questus, but he wasn't sure Not-Professor-Questus was going to be nearly as much fun.

AN: I'm not done with Not-Professor Questus quite yet!