I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

"Don't take it to heart, Hermione." Lupin said after Bassarab left their little group. "He's proud. And not used to people worrying over him, I expect. He'll come around."

She had recovered from her initial shock, and was now slumped in confusion. What had she done to inspire such an angry display? She had only been showing concern, just as any decent person would. Was that so terrible?

Since the Slytherin was avoiding them for the time being, Hermione and Harry focused on tending to their severely weakened professor. She made sure to keep the glass filled with water so he could stay hydrated, while Harry went about patching up his wounds.

Surprisingly, there weren't that many. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that there weren't that many serious ones. Lupin had more than his fair share of scrapes, scratches, and bruises, but none that were really worth fussing over. He had a cut over his eye which bled a bit and a medium sized gash on his side, but nothing that would require intensive medical intervention.

A growing sense of unease bubbled up within Hermione as they found and dealt with each one. As vicious looking as their fight had been, Lupin should have been more injured than he was. There wasn't anything she could see that would explain the copious amounts of blood that had been all over Bassarab. Not unless the professor was hiding something. But Harry had helped him get dressed and she was fairly certain he would have told her if he'd noticed more serious wounds anywhere.

Hermione's eyes flitted in the direction Bassarab had gone, and she chewed nervously on her lower lip. If her suspicions were correct, then he had deliberately held back during the fight – trying to not hurt his opponent while taking a hell of a beating in the process.

And now, while the two of them were fussing over Lupin, he was sitting out there in the dark tending to his own wounds. Alone.

She couldn't take it anymore. Hermione turned to look back at Harry. "Do you think you can manage on your own for a while?"

He blinked at her. "Yeah, we'll be fine." He paused thoughtfully and glanced behind her, seeming to understand her intentions. "Be careful, Hermione."

She gave him a silent nod in response before grabbing the bag that Bassarab's cat had brought to them. Hoisting it to her shoulder, she pushed herself up from the ground and stepped out in the direction he had gone.

It was surprising just how drastic the change in light was once she reached the edge of illumination provided by her conjured flames. Hermione could see faint outlines and shapes, but very little in the way of details. Bassarab hadn't gone very far at all; only a few feet in fact. His uncanny silence was what had made it seem like he'd completely left them. The Slytherin had perched himself atop an overturned log and was turned away – not fully exposing his back, but obviously keeping his right side angled as far away from the light as possible. His injured side, she noted. Hermione took another step forward and the dark shape in front of her went still.

"What do you want, Granger?"

The harsh tone of his voice forced her to halt.

"You're hurt."

He snorted, but didn't say anything. When she dared to take another step, Bassarab's head snapped toward her and he let out a low, menacing growl. While his eyes didn't glow like they had before, they did have an unnerving scarlet shine to them. Like an animal's eyes reflecting light in the darkness.

Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself. "I'm not afraid of you." She declared stubbornly. "You need help. Let me…"

"I don't want your help." He snarled at her.

"I didn't ask what you wanted." She snapped with a surprising amount of force. "This situation is my fault and it's the second time you've been injured on my account. Now shut up and let me help you!"

She had thought her voice would waver and was honestly shocked by how strongly the words came out. It wasn't exactly easy to put her foot down in such a manner, but she meant every word. Bassarab studied her silently for a long moment, then rolled his eyes upward before closing them.

"Fine." He huffed.

Hermione blinked, surprised. She had been expecting more of a fight. Breathing a quiet 'thank you', the girl readjusted the bag on her shoulder and closed off the remaining distance.

Once she was close enough to make out more than basic shapes and forms, the girl attempted to assess the damage. Bassarab had stripped off his outer, button-down shirt and had balled it up to press against his right shoulder. The wound itself was hidden, but given the substantial red stain filtering through the makeshift bandage and the undershirt he still had on, it had to be bad.

She dropped the bag on the ground and rifled through it, looking for something she could use. There were several brown glass bottles, what looked to be a couple of changes of clothes, a length of rope, a large folding knife, a compass, flint and steel… survival gear, she realized. She grit her teeth at the lack of the one thing she could really use at the moment.

"Don't tell me you keep all this stuff in here and not have some sort of first aid kit." She muttered in frustration. "A proper one."

"Zippered pocket at the back."

Hermione immediately flipped the bag over to search for it. Sure enough, there was a large, exterior pocket she hadn't noticed before. Upon opening it, she found it contained everything she could ever possibly need – far more than the basic kit he'd given them to use for Lupin. There was gauze and bandages of various sizes, ointments and vials of medication, a field surgical kit… and… goodness, there was a whole host of other things in there, but she didn't have the luxury of figuring out what they all were. Or how he managed to fit it all into such a small space. She plucked out the gauze and a couple of other items that might be useful and laid them out on the log.

Hermione gingerly reached toward his wounded shoulder. "May I see?"

Bassarab studied her intently, half irritated and half cautious, before finally relenting and dropping his hand. Taking a deep breath, she carefully peeled away the wadded up shirt he'd been using to hold pressure.

Whatever she might have imagined couldn't come close to the reality before her eyes. The bite was deep and showed few teeth marks – as if the werewolf had latched on and was roughly jerked away, leaving a torn, gaping mess behind. Hermione cast a quick spell to wet some of the gauze and pressed it against the wound. Immediately, she realized that even through several layers, she could feel the torn muscle fibers beneath her fingers. As she got closer to the edges, the side of her hand accidentally made contact with the ragged flesh there and her stomach rolled. She had to fight back the urge to gag.

"Don't you dare throw up on me, Granger." He warned, not looking at her. "I've had about as much of that as I can handle for one night."

Hermione blanched, reminding herself that he was in much worse condition than she was and she needed to pull herself together.

"I won't."

"Good." He snorted.

They both fell silent after that, and she went about cleaning up the wound the best she could. Mihnea was shockingly quiet through the whole affair. Aside from an occasional hiss if she pressed too hard, he made no noise and remained perfectly still. Even his face was unreadable when she dared to glance at it. He kept his head downward, eyes closed and jaw firmly set, but otherwise emotionless. It had to be painful, what she was doing. She couldn't fathom how he managed to stay so stoic.

Once the majority of the blood was cleaned away Hermione could see the full extent of the damage. She chewed at her bottom lip, unsure of how to proceed.

"It looks really bad." She told him in a low voice. "I can bandage it, but we'll need to take you to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey should…"

"No."

She blinked and looked at him, seeing that his eyes were still closed with his face angled away from her.

"No?" She repeated, incredulous. "The bleeding has stopped for now, but this bite is large and very deep. I don't know any spells that can fix this, and with all the blood you've lost, you'll need potions…"

"Magical resistance to spells and potions, remember?" He pointed out evenly.

That made her pause. She should have remembered that. She cleared her throat.

"I…" She began nervously. "I don't know how to do sutures, but if you could walk me through it…"

He shook his head, eyes still closed. "If the sight of it already makes you sick, you won't be able to. Just bind it tightly and I'll stitch myself up later."

Hermione had been afraid of that. Even if she managed to keep her stomach under control, she wasn't sure her hands would be steady enough to put in as many stitches as he'd need. But it didn't feel right to leave the task for him to do on his own either. Her shoulders slumped a little.

"Is… is there anything I could give you for pain at least?" She asked, resigning herself to the fact that bandaging him up might be all she could do.

Bassarab shook his head again. "No point." He said, gritting his teeth as he lifted his arm to allow her to roll the gauze around. "My metabolism is too fast. It would be out of my system before it had a chance to start working."

"Is that… a vampire thing?"

He responded with a deep sniff. "Does it matter?"

Well, no, she supposed it didn't. Her hands paused momentarily in wrapping the gauze. So he'd suffer regardless. That was… awful. No wonder he was acting the way he was.

Hermione carefully brought the last bit of gauze around his shoulder and tucked it underneath the previous folds. She had tried to build up a thick layer over the bite itself to give it a bit of cushioning. Once satisfied that it was tight enough, she sat back on her heels. Bassarab still refused to look at her and a heaviness settled within her chest.

"What about your back?" She asked, leaning to get a better look. "I thought I saw…"

He jerked away from her and turned his back away. "It's fine." He said gruffly.

Her brows furrowed in disbelief. "There's no point in putting it off when I'm already here." She told him. She gingerly touched his shoulder, trying to get him to turn so she could get a better look. "Just let me see…"

Mihnea snarled and grabbed her wrist, jerking her hand away. "Don't. Touch. My. Back."

Hermione gasped in pain at the tightness of his grip and her eyes flew to him. He was glaring at her, and the crimson glow of his eyes was so piercing it made her blood freeze.

"I'm sorry." She said weakly, instinctively shying away.

He held her gaze for a long moment as if daring her to try anything else, then gave her wrist a squeeze of warning before letting go. Hermione fell back to her knees, watching as he snatched up his bag to rifle through it. He pulled out a black t-shirt and jerked it over his head, showing very little regard for his bandaged shoulder. The only reaction he showed was a wince and quiet hiss when he maneuvered the arm up and through the sleeve.

The sight made Hermione wince herself and she fixed her eyes on the ground. The Slytherin's anger was vexing. She couldn't understand what she was doing to make him so upset, but her attempts to help obviously weren't having their intended effect. Since his acceptance of her presence seemed to be waning, she decided it might be best to leave him alone. She moved to get up so she could make her retreat.

"How's your neck?"

The question made her pause and she looked up in confusion. Bassarab was looking at her again and she noticed, with relief, that his eyes had gone back to their normal color. They still reflected that odd eye-shine, but it was vastly less disturbing than the glowing.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

He gestured toward her throat. "Your neck is red where I grabbed you. You'll have bruises in a few hours."

"Oh." With everything that was going on, she honestly hadn't thought about it. She reached up to brush her fingers against her neck. "It's a bit sore." She admitted. "Not too bad though. I'm sure it's fine."

"You may not feel that way tomorrow." He said, looking unconvinced. "The twins have a cream for healing bruises. You might want to ask them for some."

Hermione hadn't heard of that one before. Unless it was one of their strange 'Wheezes", Fred and George usually didn't advertise their various experiments or what they were for. She must have looked confused, because Bassarab went on.

"Constance isn't nearly as innocent as she lets on, and I'm not an idiot." He said meaningfully. "She uses it to cover up hickeys so I don't see them. I'm okay with letting her believe I know less than I do."

"Oh." She said again, feeling foolish. What exactly was the appropriate response to something like that? "Um… I'll ask them for some."

He nodded and went back to giving her that strange, intent look of his. "You hit Malfoy again." He said smoothly.

Hermione looked down sheepishly. "You… saw that?"

"He was crying about it in the common room when I left to deliver the potion." He replied. "I didn't think about who might have done it until I saw your memory." Bassarab paused and looked at her sideways with a knowing expression. "You enjoyed it."

It wasn't a question. He'd been inside her head and had seen for himself. She wasn't sure if he'd been privy to her thoughts and emotions at the time but even if he hadn't, there was little point in denying it. She gave him the smallest of nods.

"I did."

One corner of his mouth twitched upward in a slight smirk. "Good." He looked rather… pleased? The expression smoothed over before she had a chance to determine what it was. "If attacking Slytherins is going to become a regular occurrence, you should be more careful. You can fracture your wrist with an incorrect punch."

The statement was such an ordinary thing to hear from him that Hermione momentarily forgot about their present situation and had to fight back the urge to roll her eyes.

"I should take lessons, I suppose." She replied with a sniff. She rubbed her arms to warm them from the chill that had settled in the air.

For a second, it looked like Bassarab was going to say something else but an odd expression crossed his face. He was looking intently in her direction, but not really at her. Rather, his attention seemed to be focused on her arms. Hermione felt goosebumps break out across her skin as she stood, rubbing them again. Mihnea's eyes narrowed and he whirled around to peer into the forest behind him. His breath came out in a puff of white vapor.

"Shit." He swore under his breath.

Without another word, he leapt up and grabbed her above the elbow to drag her back to the others. Hermione's loud protest was met by an order from him to shut up. Bassarab didn't let go of her until they reached Harry and Lupin. The abrupt stop was jarring enough to make her lose her balance and fall to the ground.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, rushing over to help her up. "What's your problem?"

"Shut it, Potter." Mihnea hissed. He looked to Lupin, who was attempting to push himself up from his sitting position. "You don't have your wand, do you Professor?"

The man paused. "I… must have dropped it near the tree when I…" He winced and shook his head. "I doubt I'd be of much use, even if I had it. Wha…"

A sudden, unnatural drop in temperature halted the words in his throat and all four of them froze in place. The jar of flames that sat off to the side flickered, drawing everyone's attention toward it. The glass fogged over, turning a milky white color before ice crystals began to slowly spread across its surface. The blue flame within sputtered violently and blinked out.

"Dementors." Lupin breathed. He started pushing himself up again. "Wands out. Remember the spell, Harry. Even an incorporeal patronus can ward them off if necessary."

Harry and Hermione dutifully drew their wands as Bassarab moved to help Lupin up, drawing one of his arms over his shoulders to help him keep his balance.

"Stay close to me." The Slytherin instructed. "They'll be too afraid to get near enough for you to have to use it."

Professor Lupin didn't look convinced by that. "Dementors aren't afraid of anything, Mihnea."

"They are of my familiar."

The man went still and stared at him. Hermione had never seen him looked so shocked before.

"You can summon a familiar?" He asked with a note of awe in his voice. "That's…"

"It's a long story." Bassarab interrupted through gritted teeth. He shot an expectant look at Harry and Hermione. "Well, time travelers? What now?"

Hermione studied the trees around them, noting the shadows of movement slowly making their way past them. The feeling of dread that accompanied the dementors was present, but muted. The creatures either hadn't noticed them, or were more interested in other prey.

"Harry." She whispered, giving him a good shake. He was beginning to feel the effects as well. "Harry, I wasn't around for this. What happened?"

The boy shook his head as if coming out of a stupor and glanced at her. "Sirius. I found him passed out by the water. That's where they're going."

The sound of his friend's name made Lupin perk up. "The spring isn't far. You can hear the water from here."

This part of their mission was one that Hermione had little knowledge of aside from what she'd overheard in the hospital wing. They would have to trust in Harry's memory of the event to guide their path from here on out. Moving as a group, the four of them made their way through the trees toward the spring. It didn't take long to reach their destination, and they came to a halt a few feet away from the edge of the small clearing so they'd remain hidden from view.

At the water's edge was the other Harry, leaning over Sirius Black's body. It looked like he was checking to see if he was breathing. He was oblivious to the dark forms of the dementors that glided out from the trees to swirl in the air above them. The sight made Hermione's insides clench in apprehension. It looked like every dementor assigned to guard the Hogwarts' grounds was there. If this wasn't handled perfectly, it could go very, very wrong. For all of them.

"Harry, what happens here?" She breathed out quietly.

"The dementors swarmed us." He said. The boy pulled his eyes away from the scene to search the surrounding forest. "He must be here somewhere. He'll come and send them away."

Her brows furrowed. He had said something similar in the hospital wing when he regained consciousness.

"Harry…"

"I'm not crazy, Hermione." He snapped, sensing what she was going to say. "I know what I saw. My dad came and cast the patronus that sent them away." His eyes flew to Bassarab. "Can you sense ghosts? He's here somewhere."

The Slytherin pulled his gaze away from the clearing to blink at him. "Ghosts?" He repeated in bewilderment. "Have you lost your mind? We're the only ones here."

The boy faltered. "But…"

"Harry." Lupin's voice caused Harry to look over at him. "I don't doubt you saw something, but even if it was your father, he couldn't have cast a patronus. Ghosts can't perform magic."

In the clearing, the dementors began to swoop down toward the pair by the water's edge. Hermione's heart lurched into her throat as the past version of Harry attempted the patronus charm. Thin wisps of light emerged from the tip of his wand, but they were easily brushed away. There were simply too many of them.

Next to her, Lupin was grunting in frustration, looking like he wanted to step in, but had no strength to do so. Mihnea tightened his grip on the man to hold him back, and Harry… Harry was staring at the vision as it played out, still refusing to believe what they were telling him.

"I saw him." He stubbornly insisted, thrusting out a finger to point at a large boulder on their side of the spring. "He was right there."

One of the dementors surged toward the other Harry, coming to within inches of his face. As it sucked away his life force, the boy stumbled and fell back. His body hit the ground with his face turned toward their hiding spot. The Harry next to her went very still and she heard him suck in a sharp breath. Without a word, he grit his teeth and started running.

"Harry!" Hermione and Lupin cried out in shock. The girl moved to run after him, but Mihnea grabbed her with his free hand and jerked her back.

Harry dashed into the clearing and clambered up onto the boulder he'd just pointed at. He found his footing and stood, throwing out his wand arm.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A bright flash of light erupted from his wand and hit the dementors at the fringe of the group. It appeared to stun them, but soon all of the creatures had turned their collective attention toward him. Harry took half a step back, then squared his shoulders and thrust out his wand a second time.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Never, in all the time she'd known him, had Hermione ever heard such a powerful, commanding voice come out of her friend's mouth. Her eyes went wide as blinding light poured from his wand, flying out like a shock wave of pure, raw power. It was so intense that she had to throw a hand up to shield her eyes. The light then swirled and condensed inward, pulling itself down into a discernible shape.

Hooves and long legs attached to a lean muscled body came first, followed by a long, sturdy neck with an elongated head and ears, proudly crowned with an impressive set of antlers. A stag. Once fully formed, it ran forward, thrashing the dementors about with its antlers, tossing them through the air. The ones not hit directly let out loud, ear-splitting screeches as they flew off to escape from it. It all happened so quickly. Once the threat was gone, the patronus lifted its head to sniff the air and turned to look back at them before fading away into nothingness.

They all gaped in astonishment at the boy standing on the boulder, as if seeing him for the first time. Harry Potter, at 13, had produced a fully corporeal patronus. And it was amazing.

Once the shock of what he had done wore off, Potter stumbled down from the large rock and retreated back to their hiding spot. The moment he returned, Professor Lupin pulled away from Mihnea long enough to clamp a hand down on the boy's shoulder.

"Beautifully done, Harry!" He said, beaming with pride. "That was excellent! Your father would be proud."

Potter's lips pulled into a small smile at the praise. "I thought about him." He said, glancing back toward the unconscious forms by the water. "I really thought it was him, but… I remembered how everyone says I look like him and I just… knew. I knew I could do it, because I'd already done it. That's what I saw before."

Lupin nodded his understanding and let him go, allowing Mihnea to readjust the arm over his shoulder to distribute the weight more evenly. The man wasn't particularly heavy – he was doing most of the work himself – but there was no way to avoid the constant pressure against his injuries. He was starting to feel the strain.

Thankfully, it seemed the worse of this little endeavor was over. Granger confirmed that Snape had been the one to find Potter and Black and had brought them back to the castle. It didn't take long for the man himself to appear, slinking along the perimeter of the clearing across from them. They all withdrew further into the trees and watched as he checked the two forms laying on the ground. He cast a silent charm to securely bind Black's body with ropes, then levitated them both with a flick of his wand. Mihnea let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding once his Head of House was finally out of sight.

From then on, the mission seemed to be a matter of timing. According to the Gryffindors, Fudge had left the castle after Buckbeak's botched execution. Once Black was brought back to the castle, the staff would send out a message to him, and it wouldn't take long for him to return. There was a limited window of opportunity to break the man out of his makeshift prison while he was alone.

They returned to their original resting place to go over the plan. Mihnea helped Lupin settle down on a stump to rest, while he gathered up his bag and the stray items they'd left lying around. Though they were deep in the forest, leaving any potential evidence behind would only cause trouble later. He mentally reached out to Pixie as he worked, hoping to pinpoint her location. She had no interest in hanging around for their adventure and had run off – but she was lingering near the castle for his return. Once he connected with her mind, he ordered her back to the tree to collect Lupin's wand. None of them would have the time or opportunity to go back for it themselves, and it wasn't the sort of thing that should be left lying about for anyone to pick up. The command also served to keep her out of the forest. Potter had gone off to lure the ruddy hippogriff back and Mihnea wanted to make sure Pixie would be far, far away from it. His earlier threat to kill the beast hadn't been an idle one.

It wasn't until Potter returned with the animal in question and took stock of all of them that the boy realized something had been overlooked.

"Um…" he said nervously, looking at Buckbeak, then back to the three of them. "How will this work, exactly? There won't be room for us all, and with Sirius too…"

Mihnea rolled his eyes upward. Surely he wasn't stupid enough to think they'd all get back to the castle the same way? Even if he had just performed an impressive feat of magic, his mental faculties left much to be desired.

"You two go." He said, nodding toward him and Granger. "You have a time limit to worry about. We'll meet you in the courtyard."

Granger's brows furrowed in concern. "We can't just leave you here like this." She insisted. "Even if…"

"I said, we'll meet you in the courtyard." He said again, more forcefully this time. The girl's constant worry and fretting was making this more difficult than it had to be. "Just go."

She looked ready to argue, but Potter pulled at her arm, reminding her of their purpose. Granger grit her teeth together, then nodded in defeat. The pair of them climbed onto Buckbeak's back and the hippogriff galloped off through the trees. When they reached an area with enough space to allow it, the beast spread its wings and lifted off into the air.

The moment they were out of sight, Mihnea was hit with a wave of tiredness, along with a small twinge of relief. Now that he didn't have two meddlesome Gryffindors to worry about, he allowed himself a moment take stock of his injuries. His back and shoulder were screaming at him and he'd have to do something about them soon. He was pretty sure the bite Granger had tended to had reopened again – but at least he could reach it himself. His back, though, was going to be a problem. He could already tell. Lupin had gotten a hell of a good swipe in on him and it burned like white-hot fire whenever he moved. Even breathing deeply was enough to draw a sharp protest from his muscles.

Careful to keep himself turned so that Lupin couldn't see, Mihnea carefully reached around to feel his back. The slashes were deeper than he expected and stung like hell. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from showing a reaction. When he withdrew his hand, he found it covered in blood. He narrowed his eyes at the involuntary tremble of his fingers.

"Mihnea?"

Without a word, he wiped his hand off on the side of his trousers, thankful that the dark color would hide the blood. Lupin would still be able to smell it, naturally, but it was impossible to get a good read on specific amounts past a certain point. There was no point in worrying him. Mihnea searched through his bag for the bottles of blood he kept in there. It was his emergency supply, and there were only four. Not enough to help with healing, but they would take the edge off until he could get back to his room.

He guzzled down two of them before he felt sufficiently in control of himself to face his professor. When he turned to him, the man was studying him with concern.

"You look like death." Lupin told him.

Mihnea grimaced, but didn't doubt it. He certainly felt like death. He pulled out the third bottle and swigged it down.

"I'm fine." He said. "I just… need a minute."

He could tell from the man's expression that he didn't believe him. Lupin turned his gaze toward the final bottle that he pulled out.

"How many of those do you have?"

"This is the last one." He replied.

His eyes narrowed in consideration. "That's not nearly enough."

"It will do for now." He told him. "I'll get more when we get back."

Lupin sighed in resignation as Mihnea came over to help him stand. "I suppose you have a plan, since you promised we'd meet them?"

He nodded. The sudden influx of blood into his system had him feeling a bit better, and he felt more confidence in being able to pull off what he planned to do.

"We'll fly." He said simply. He couldn't resist a smirk at the sight of the odd look Lupin gave him. "I told you I had a familiar, Professor. Would you like to see it?"

If circumstances were different, Mihnea might have been able to enjoy the reactions. Granted, if circumstances were different he might have been able to put on a much more impressive display as well, but beggars couldn't be choosers. His primary objective was to get himself and Professor Lupin from point A to point B in one piece. So while he felt the insanely strong temptation to dive-bomb the hippogriff and its three riders when he spotted it, he wisely decided against it. However, he did allow his shadow dragon close enough to cast an imposing shadow over them.

It was the small things that made life worth living. After the night he'd had, he was due that much.

Buckbeak landed first in an area of the courtyard bathed in shadow. A good place for a clandestine meeting, he thought approvingly. Making sure to pick a landing spot a safe distance away from the others, his dragon spread its wings wide and drifted toward the ground. The moment they touched down, Mihnea drew all of the shadows back into himself. His solitary practice sessions had given him a feel for how to land without losing his balance, but Lupin was a new variable added into the mix. The sudden change in position made him pitch forward on his feet. Mihnea had to grab him to keep him from hitting the ground.

"Of all the things it could have been, you would bring out a bleeding dragon." He muttered, still looking stunned by the whole affair. "No wonder the dementors are afraid of you."

Mihnea smiled despite himself. "It certainly helps." He glanced toward the three forms standing near Buckbeak – two of which had their wands drawn and at the ready. "We'd best let them know it's us before we get hexed."

Lupin snorted. "After the night we've had, I'd be disappointed if they didn't."

They stepped out into the moonlight to reveal themselves and Potter and Granger lowered their wands – albeit very slowly and with gob-smacked looks on their faces. Between them, Black still looked guarded and ready to attack if necessary. Harry touched his arm and whispered something that seemed to make the man relax a bit as they approached. Once they were close enough for them to make out who they were, Black's eyes went wide.

"Remus!" he exclaimed, closing the distance to get a better look. "How… I watched you change! How are you human now? The moon…"

Lupin gave Mihnea a slight nudge, indicating he wished to stand on his own power for a moment. He relinquished his hold, but stayed close enough to act if he faltered again. Lupin gestured toward Potter with a meaningful look.

"Let's just say your godson has put together quite an interesting collection of friends."

Black absorbed his words and turned to look at Mihnea for the first time, studying him with a guarded expression.

"I remember you." He said slowly. "You were there that night. Outside Gryffindor Tower."

Mihnea inclined his head, giving the man and intent look of his own. Now that the two were face to face, that alien, yet hauntingly familiar scent was overwhelming his senses. It was infuriating how he still couldn't place it.

"I was." He confirmed, then narrowed his eyes. "You put my cousin in the hospital wing."

A pained look crossed Black's features. "I didn't intend to hurt the girl." He said, sounding remorseful. "I only meant to disarm. She was more tenacious than I expected." He shook his head and looked back at him. "I wasn't expecting you to damn near rip my arm off, either. Took me forever to get it back in place without a wand."

Mihnea sniffed in satisfaction. "Good."

Regardless of his innocence in other crimes, he was still responsible for the break-in and the resulting aftermath. That he had come away from it with an injured arm was fair punishment. He would have killed him, if he'd had his way.

"Sirius, there's no time." Lupin said, his voice breaking through his thoughts. "You have to go before you're spotted."

The two wizards shared a look between themselves – like there was so much they wanted to say, but couldn't fit into the time allowed them. Black leaned forward and pulled Lupin into a hug, much like the one they had shared in the Shrieking Shack.

"I'll contact you." Mihnea's sensitive ears caught Black whispering. "The old way. You still have it?"

"I do." Lupin replied, just as quietly. "And yours as well. I'll leave it in the tunnel."

Black nodded. "I'll give them a merry chase first to lead them off. Then, well… you know where I'll be."

"I know."

The two men pulled apart and Black turned back to Potter. "And you, Harry." He said, putting his hand on his shoulder in an almost fatherly manner. "Take care of yourself. I can't promise how often it will be, but I'll write to you."

The boy blinked up at him in thankfulness and nodded. Black then said a quick word to Granger, thanking her for her help, then climbed onto Buckbeak's back. They galloped off a short distance before launching off into the sky.

They were almost out of sight when the bell tower began to ring.

"Harry!" Granger exclaimed, grabbing the boy's hand. "We have to get back before the last chime!"

Mihnea took their frantic expressions to mean that their time in the 'past' had come to an end. The two gave quick waves and assurances that they'd catch up tomorrow as they ran off. Mihnea and Professor Lupin found themselves left alone in the courtyard.

"We should get back to your office before anyone sees us." He commented as he turned to him. "Can you walk on your own?"

Lupin had been doing an admirable job of standing on his own, but a couple of tentative steps proved he hadn't regained enough balance to ambulate properly. Mihnea quickly replaced his arm over his shoulder to steady him before he hurt himself.

"Damn it all." The man swore in frustration as they began their walk into the castle. "This is humiliating, having to be carried everywhere."

"Don't be stubborn." Mihnea admonished. "It's nothing."

He felt, as well as heard his snort. "You're a fine one to talk about stubbornness."

Maybe so, he thought, but that was probably why they understood each other so well.

Thankfully, Sirius Black's 'capture' seemed to have drawn attention away from the part of the castle they needed to get to. The pair reached the DADA classroom without incident and made their way inside. Pixie, he saw, had left Lupin's wand atop one of the desks. Clever girl. He had thought she would have been there waiting for him, but couldn't be bothered to check on her whereabouts at the moment. She'd be safe within the castle walls.

Mihnea quickly cast wards on the classroom door, as well as a second set on the office door once they got up the stairs. With that out of the way, he pulled Lupin's desk chair away from the desk with his foot and helped him sit down. The moment he dropped down into the seat, the professor's body slumped and his head fell back with a deep groan.

"How do you feel?" He pressed.

"Like hell." Lupin said blandly. He rubbed at his eyes, then sat up straighter to look at him. "What is this? Is it permanent?"

Mihnea hesitated, unsure of what to say. After a moment's thought, he cleared his throat.

"I don't think so." He told him. "You still smell like a werewolf, if that's what you're asking." He took a deep breath and decided to be honest with him. "I don't know that this has ever happened before, so I'm not sure what it means. If I had to guess, I'd say that once my blood works its way out of your system, it will wear off." He glanced at the wolfsbane potion, still sitting on the desk where he'd left it. "You might want to drink that, just in case."

Lupin grimaced at the thought, but reached for the vial all the same. Mihnea carefully leaned up against the desk to rest for a minute. He didn't dare sit down out of concern that he might not be able to get back up again. The professor choked down the potion and the vial hit the desk with a heavy 'clunk' when he set it down.

"I felt the wards go up when we came in." He said, slowing turning his gaze onto him. "You didn't use a wand."

"My hands were a bit preoccupied at the time, sir."

Lupin responded with a dry huff of laughter. "So they were." The faint smile slowly dropped and he became thoughtful. "I don't expect an explanation now. I don't believe either of us is up to it at the moment. But later, once everything has calmed down, we'll have a proper talk."

A proper talk. The words made him wince internally and Mihnea hoped the reaction didn't show on his face. A 'proper' talk implied an in depth one. One with questions who's answers he wasn't comfortable exploring with a man he had damn near killed by accident.

He pushed away the uncomfortable thought and inclined his head. That was the best he could offer at the moment.

Lupin glanced at the doorway. "Once they realize Sirius is gone, the Heads of the Houses will want to do a headcount of their students." He said. "You'd best get back to your dormitory before Severus realizes where you've been."

He was right, but Mihnea knew very well that if the Potions Master found out what he'd been doing, being out of the dormitory would be the least of his worries. He nodded again and moved to push himself away from the desk he was leaning against. A flash of pain and weakness stopped him. He grit his teeth as sharp fire blossomed in his back and began to spread. The energy boost from ingesting the blood earlier was quickly fading and that was going to make his retreat to the dungeons much more challenging.

Summoning up what little energy was left in his reserves, Mihnea recovered from his pause and shifted his weight from the desk to his feet – though he took a moment to test his balance before letting go.

"Can you make it there on your own?" Lupin asked, looking worried.

"I'm fine." He lied. "Just tired is all."

"You've done too much tonight." The man said, frowning at the knowledge that nothing could be done for it. "Send me a message once you've gotten back to your room. If I don't hear from you in a reasonable amount of time, I'll contact the Headmaster."

Mihnea would have given a start if he didn't feel so drained. "I said I'm fine." He said, sounding hoarser than he intended.

"Regardless of what happened tonight, I am still your teacher." Lupin intoned carefully. "Let me know when you get there. It would make me feel better."

Well, when he put it that way, he supposed it was reasonable. And if it got him out of Lupin's office faster… He nodded.

"Fine." He told him. "I'll send Pixie."

Satisfied with the response, Lupin gestured to the door, giving him a final warning to be careful. Moving as carefully as possible, Mihnea slipped out the door and checked to make sure it was locked before making his way out of the classroom.

The façade he'd been maintaining for so long began to waiver the moment he stepped into the empty hallway and closed the door behind him. With his energy stores depleted and the rush of adrenaline from earlier nearly gone, there was very little left for him to draw on. Only pain and exhaustion were left. Mihnea ground his teeth together and forced his feet to move forward. His uninjured shoulder found itself pressed up against the wall for support.

Just have to get back to the dungeons. He repeated in his head like a mantra. Once back in his room, he could drink his fill of blood and rest to allow his body to heal itself.

Just have to get back to the dungeons.

Mihnea shook his head and blinked furiously as his vision began to blur. The suddenness of the motion triggered a wave of dizziness, forcing him to stop and grasp at the wall to stay upright. He ground his teeth together and looked toward the end of the hallway. Just a few more feet and a single staircase remained between him and his destination. He was so close. He could make it.

Giving a final push away from the wall, Mihnea pressed himself forward. He managed two steps before the world tilted on its axis and everything went black.

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