Remus knew that he should be overjoyed at the prospect of living next to his favorite teacher. He'd liked Professor Questus a lot, and he'd been miserable when he'd learned that Questus was leaving Hogwarts. Now Remus had a chance to see him again—a chance to talk to him again—but the thought didn't make him as happy as it should have.

Remus remembered how incredibly happy Professor Questus had been after getting his old job back. Questus had loved being an Auror—Remus could see it in his eyes whenever he talked about it. And now Questus was no longer an Auror, had no chance of becoming one again anytime soon, had to live out here in the middle of nowhere, and was cursed on top of all that. He hadn't seemed to enjoy being confined inside a small school, and the house across the hill was far smaller and less eventful than Hogwarts. Remus couldn't find it in himself to be happy to see Professor Questus again—not when the man was probably going to be miserable for the rest of his life. And not when the whole exchange was incredibly awkward, of course.

But Remus was a fairly obedient person, so he helped his mother make a pie and promised to take it over to Questus' the next afternoon. He knew that Questus was going to hate it. He didn't seem like the type of person to like pie, and he'd seemed like he wanted to be alone. But even still, Remus' mother insisted that it was the least they could do, so Remus made his way over to Questus' house with the pie in hand and knocked on the door grouchily.

It wasn't even two seconds before it flew open, just as it had sometimes before his duelling lesson when Professor Questus was particularly excited. Questus was standing there with an indiscernible expression on his face.

"My mother made me bring over a pie, sir," said Remus dully. "I'm very sorry for bothering you..."

"Lupin. Thank goodness." Remus looked up at Professor Questus, who looked more emotional than Remus had ever seen him. He wasn't sure what emotion it was, though. Maybe it was annoyance. It looked more like relief. Or perhaps he was in pain? He was looking only slightly better than when Remus had seen him last; his face was still pale as anything, and he didn't look quite fit to be standing up. "Would you mind coming in?"

"I... sure," said Remus, at a loss for words.

"Good." Professor Questus pulled him in and shut the door. Remus almost dropped the pie.

"Where would you like me to..."

"Pie is disgusting," said Questus. "You can take it back home, if you'd like."

"Er... my mum isn't going to like that," said Remus.

"Of course not. Well, I'll keep it in here for the time being. Pomfrey's visiting sometime tomorrow, so maybe she'll want some."

"She is?" said Remus.

Questus rolled his eyes. "Yes. Neither of us are happy about it, but Dumbledore wants her to see to it that I don't die. Yet."

"Why can't... Healers...?"

"Matter of utmost secrecy. No one's supposed to know; it's Auror business. And Dumbledore trusts Pomfrey with the information, apparently."

"Oh."

Awkward silence.

"You got a haircut," said Questus.

"Yeah," said Remus. "It's too short, but Mum insisted. Hopefully it'll grow back before school starts."

"Yeah, it's way too short," agreed Questus.

Another awkward silence.

"Would you like me... to go home, then? If that's all?"

"Oh, no. Do you have time?"

"My schedule's very busy, actually," quipped Remus. "You know. Giving a speech at the Ministry tomorrow about my campaign to become Minister for Magic."

Questus snorted. "You'd make a terrible Minister."

"Can't be one, anyway. It's a human position."

"Indeed it is," said Questus, wincing as he sat down.

"So... what do you need...?"

"How do you do it?" asked Questus suddenly. "How on earth do you stay sane? Here, have a seat. Honestly, I just want to talk. It's only been a couple of hours that I've been here, and I'm already going mad."

"What do you mean, sir?" said Remus, sitting down in the other armchair. It was unbearably weird, to be sitting inside his teacher's house. The whole situation was unbearably weird.

"Don't call me sir. I'm not your teacher," said Questus. "Look, I'm... bored. I'm supposed to stay off my leg, you know. I'm not even supposed to be walking. So all I can do, really, is sit here and read." He made a face. "I don't mind reading for pleasure. I do it all the time. But for every hour of the day? With no purpose behind it? I can't even imagine what the Hospital Wing must be like for you. So how do you do it?"

Remus grinned. He wasn't sure why he found this funny, Professor Questus being bored out of his mind. The tables, it seemed, had turned. "Practice," he said simply. "Honestly. That's it."

"There must be something else!" groaned Questus. "What else is there to do?"

"You could always memorize poetry," said Remus slyly.

"Absolutely not."

"Write letters to your friends."

"Do I look like the kind of person who has friends?"

"Write a novel."

"Have you done that?"

Remus realized that Questus didn't know about A Documentation of the Life of Remus Lupin. "Ah... I think I showed you my bullet points. Of the lies I told my friends. I started writing a novel to get them in order. A fake autobiography of sorts."

Questus, for some reason, found that very funny. Remus glared at him until he stopped laughing. "It's not that funny," he said.

"It is. But never mind. My point is: I'm very bored, and my only company is this houseplant that Dumbledore gave me." He gestured towards a small houseplant, and Remus giggled. That seemed like a very Dumbledore thing to do. "I didn't think it would be this hard. I had a pretty action-packed job... both Aurors and professors are constantly around other people, you know. Being alone, not able to go anywhere, not even able to stand..." He shuddered. "I could feel every shred of happiness leaving me as I counted the ceiling tiles half a hundred times."

"Madam Pomfrey has forty-eight potions in the small cabinet in her office," Remus said helpfully.

"That's not encouraging. How many times have you counted them?"

"Maybe thirty times."

"In all?"

"Per month."

"Oh."

There was another very long, very awkward silence.

"I cannot believe I'm asking this," said Questus uncomfortably. "But... if you're not busy this summer..."

Remus grinned. He couldn't believe Questus was asking this, either. "How long did you last? Twenty-four hours?"

"See, that's one of the many good things about my leaving Hogwarts," said Questus. "I don't have to tell you off for being disrespectful. Merlin's beard, I hated doing that. You're good at this."

"Good at what? Being disrespectful?"

"Well, yeah." Questus snorted. "Banter. In general. Friendly insults. I typically find it funny, but..." He shrugged. "Have to maintain authority. Unless it's James Potter, who I think rather likes being punished. Anyway. How much time do you have?"

"My schedule is no more full than yours, Professor."

Questus squinted at him. "You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?"

"No."

"Now I wish I could take points from Gryffindor. Three days a week? At least? Maybe around three pm for tea? But feel free to pop over whenever you'd like. Chances are I won't be busy."

"Do I get paid?" asked Remus.

"Paid for what?"

"Assisting the elderly."

"My goodness, Lupin," said Questus, and Remus laughed. "I'm ill and in pain. You don't have to insult me half to death, you know. And I'll have you know I'm only fifty-three."

"The question remains," said Remus. "Do I get paid?"

"Seeing as I no longer have a job... oh, please tell me I'm not the only one. You're bored out of your mind too, aren't you? Your parents don't seem fun enough to hold anyone's attention for eleven straight years without a break."

"They're brilliant," said Remus.

"I'm sure. But still. You're bored, aren't you? Being home all the time?"

Remus paused. "Well... yeah. But I don't mind being bored. I take a lot of naps."

"Because of your lycanthropy? Does it help, sleeping more?"

Clearly, Questus' curiosity and blunt questions hadn't died down one bit. "A... little," said Remus. "You know, because of physical stress and losing sleep around the full moon and all that. I don't know how often I'm going to be able to visit, actually, now that I think about it. My parents wouldn't even let me sleep in my own bed for a week after the last full moon, and there's no way they'll let me go anywhere the week before the moon this month... which is right before school starts."

Questus waved his hand impatiently. "I don't care. As long as you come when you can. I'm so bored."

"Is it getting better?" Remus asked timidly. "Your injury?"

"Nope. Worse. Well, the injury itself is getting better. But I'm not feeling very fit at the moment."

"They have no idea what curse it is?"

"None at all." Questus leaned back in his chair, grimaced, and propped his leg up on the footrest. "Hurts like you wouldn't believe, though. You can sense it somehow, right, Lupin? Can you explain that? Sense of smell, right?"

Remus ducked his head in embarrassment. "Er... yeah, but... it's weird."

"How so?"

"I dunno. I just... everyone has a scent, right?"

"Right."

"And yours is... different now. Not too much, and only at close range. But enough to be different."

"What do you mean, different?"

"I..." Remus made a small frustrated noise. "That's like trying to explain what things look like to a blind person!"

Questus laughed. "I suppose. Try it anyway."

"Er... you know. A deeper shade. Purpler."

"You're saying it smells like the color purple."

"I don't know!" Remus was laughing now, too. "I can't!"

"Well, that's not going to be any help identifying the curse," said Questus dryly. He mimed flipping through a book. "Curses that smell like purple."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Okay. You know how coffee smells?"

"Yes."

"And apple juice?"

"Mm-hm."

"And... er... oh! The corner of Diagon Alley that leads into Knockturn Alley."

"I didn't think that had much of a scent."

"Oh. I was going to say that it was like all three of those things mixed together, plus something else, but I don't know how to help you now."

"Do you know any other ways to describe it?"

"Well, you could always go and get yourself bitten by a werewolf, and then go to Knockturn Alley and see what I mean. But that's a lot of trouble."

"Sure is," said Questus with a grin.

There was yet another silence, but it was amicable: it was quite possibly the first silence that Remus had shared with Questus that wasn't unbearably awkward.

No, never mind. It was still awkward.

"Erm..." said Remus. "I'd like to stay, but my parents aren't fond of you and probably think that you've kidnapped me. I should probably..."

"Oh, of course," said Questus. "Come back Wednesday?"

"Sure," said Remus. "And you don't want me to bring more pie, I wager?"

"Absolutely not. But thank your mother for me. She's trying to be neighborly, at least."

"I think she's trying to apologize for my dad."

"He honestly wasn't that bad," said Questus. "This may come as a terrible surprise, but the vast majority of people happen to dislike me."

"I'm perfectly aware," said Remus. He stood up. "I'll see you Wednesday, then. Tell Madam Pomfrey I said hello. And try not to get too bored."

"Fat chance of that."

Remus walked back to his house, mulling things over. The past two days had been entirely too weird for his liking.

Remus' father was at work, but Remus had been correct: his mother had indeed been worried about him. "Oh, thank goodness," she murmured, hugging him tightly. "What took you so long?"

"We were catching up," said Remus.

"And... what's the word?"

"He's bored," said Remus, smiling. "Very bored. May I drop by on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday? Around three?"

"Of course," said his mum, looking surprised. "Whatever happened to 'Mum, it's awkward'?"

"It is awkward," Remus insisted. "But we'll figure it out. He's very bored."

"And so are you," Remus' mum reminded him. "It'll be good, I think, to chat with someone besides your dad and me."

"Yeah," said Remus. "No offense, but you're boring sometimes."

Madam Pomfrey showed up the next day, just as Professor Questus had said she would. What Remus didn't expect was the knock on his own door that sounded around one pm. "Who is it?" said Remus' mum. Remus and his mother were sitting on the couch, reading Hogwarts, a History; Remus wanted his mum to know everything about Hogwarts, since she hadn't actually experienced it for herself. Remus pointed out which chapters were the most important, and she read to herself while Remus peered over her shoulder and explained things further, sometimes with animated gesticulations. They'd been at it for at least two hours.

"It's Madam Pomfrey," said Remus. "I didn't think... I was pretty sure she was only visiting Professor Questus."

"Well, since we live right across the street, it's only natural that she should stop by," said Remus' mum, standing up. Remus rather wanted to run upstairs. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so reluctant to talk to his teachers. It was just so awkward. Teachers belonged at school, not at Remus' house. Not in the house across the street. And definitely not healing Remus after a full moon.

Remus heard the door open. "Hope! How are you?" came Madam Pomfrey's voice.

"Poppy! It's so good to see you! I'm all right, though Lyall has been stressed lately."

"Oh, no. What is it about this time?" Remus was always taken aback by how close his mother and Madam Pomfrey were. His mother should not be best friends with his matron.

"It's actually about Remus' old professor who just moved here. John Questus, his name was. I'm not exactly sure what to call him."

"No one is," said Madam Pomfrey. "I usually call him John. He doesn't mind any sort of name." Except Professor, Remus thought. "I think he prefers to be called Questus, though. Doesn't seem to like his first name very much. So I call him John, precisely because he doesn't like it and I don't like him."

Remus mother laughed. "I like him if Remus does," she said.

"You're a far better person than I. So... Remus knows, correct? That John quit his position at Hogwarts? He only told me today; I think he was trying to keep it under wraps."

"Yes. I don't know how long Remus has known, actually. He never told us, though he seemed to imply that he already knew when Questus visited our house the other day. Why don't you come in, Poppy? I'll make tea."

"Ooh, yes, please. Is Remus awake?"

"Yes. He's just in the other room."

They entered the sitting room, and Remus smiled hesitantly. "Er, hello, Madam Pomfrey," he said.

"Remus! How are you feeling?"

"Normal," said Remus. This was so awkward. "I can make the tea, Mum, if you'd like to talk..."

"I have something to talk to you about first," said Madam Pomfrey. "When did... Questus... tell you that he was leaving?"

"He didn't want to," said Remus. "But I showed up to say goodbye, and he was packed up, and then he told me where he was going since I was already there. He made me swear not to tell anyone."

"That man," muttered Madam Pomfrey. "Always keeping secrets." She gave Remus a pointed look, but he wasn't sure what it meant. "Too many secrets."

"You know very well my secrets are necessary to keep," said Remus, affronted.

"I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about Questus. Too many secrets," insisted Madam Pomfrey, but Remus wasn't convinced. She had hinted to him before that she thought that his friends would accept him, and she'd implied in some of their conversations that perhaps someday Remus should tell them. He couldn't believe that anyone could ever believe that. He ignored her.

"So..."

"Oh. Yes. Anyway, I don't know how much he said when he came over yesterday, but he's very poorly."

"He did say," said Remus.

"What did he tell you?"

"He said it was a curse, that no one knows what it is, that he's supposed to stay off his leg, and that he's not feeling well. He said that the bleeding won't quite stop and he has to take Blood-Replenishing Potions."

Madam Pomfrey stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. "That's it? Unbelievable. Did he mention that it might be fatal?"

"Er, yeah... I think he implied it."

Oh, so that's what this was all about. Everyone was concerned about Remus' mental state. Again. For goodness' sake, he could take care of himself. What were they going to do, keep him away from Professor Questus so that, if he died, Remus would never know? Remus could handle that. He could handle more than that. It was horrible, of course... but Remus wasn't entirely even convinced that Professor Questus, who was tougher than all of Hogwarts combined, could be taken out by any sort of cursed anything. And he had looked fine. And Remus could handle it!

"As long as you know," said Madam Pomfrey. "Wasn't sure he was going to mention it himself." She still looked reproachful. "I don't like him."

"Lyall didn't get the best first impression of him, either," said Remus' mum. "He's very... blunt...?"

"Annoying," said Madam Pomfrey. "Rude. I've told you about all the research that he did on Remus, didn't I?"

"What?" Remus' mum looked stricken. Remus caught Madam Pomfrey's eye and drew two fingers over his neck, but she ignored him.

"Research. On his condition. Most of the teachers did, of course—first werewolf ever to attend Hogwarts, you know. We didn't know what to expect." Remus wanted to die. His mother was going to cry, he was just sure of it. She was already looking teary—or was that just his imagination? "Questus has an innate fascination with the Dark Arts. He hates it, of course, but he's always very interested. So he did far too much research—all summer, really—and wouldn't stop pestering Remus with questions..."

"He wasn't pestering," said Remus shortly.

"He was pestering. He could be downright probing at times."

"He wasn't!" said Remus. "And furthermore...!" He felt himself losing control. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. Cool, calm observations, he reminded himself. "It's been like this all summer," he said. "Everyone's trying to tell me how I'm supposed to feel about things. Why can't you just trust me to tell you how I feel and leave it at that? How come you never believe me?"

"Because, Mr. Lupin," said Madam Pomfrey, switching back to her Matron Voice (which was a weird voice to hear in the comfort of Remus' own home). "You don't tell us. You never do, so we have to guess. If you start telling us when you're uncomfortable, then we'll stop guessing."

Remus sighed. He couldn't really argue with that. "Well, I'm telling you right now. He honestly, really helped. Talking about it is so much easier now."

"If you say so," said Madam Pomfrey. "That doesn't change the fact that he overstepped his boundaries a bit. And I very much do not like him. I might write you a letter later, Hope, and complain. It was a living nightmare working with him." Remus wondered how on earth she could say all that if she honestly thought that Professor Questus was dying. People were usually nice to dying people, weren't they?

"I'm going to make tea now," said Remus, retreating to the kitchen.

He listened to his mother and Madam Pomfrey chatter away excitedly, and his name didn't even come up. He smiled. It was nice, not being the center of attention, and he was glad that his mum had at least one friend. He'd always felt guilty about making his entire family loners. And although it was exceedingly awkward to have Madam Pomfrey visit, he did like her a lot.

Even though she was sometimes horribly, disgustingly right.

AN: Only six days until my local radio station stops playing holiday music :(