Author's note: I hope that you enjoy this chapter. (Couldn't think of a good title for it, so that may change.) Please review!

Warnings: none

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I referenced pages 130-134 of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban while writing this.

Dementors and a Heart-to-Heart

The weather was a force to be reckoned with, and unfortunately for the students, there was a Quidditch match to be played. It was Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, a change from the original plan, which had been Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Slytherin had pulled out because Draco was still moaning about his arm. They'd conveniently not been able to find someone else to play Seeker, so the Slytherin team was sitting on the sidelines, happy to not be flying in the terrible conditions.

Despite said terrible conditions, the whole school turned out to watch the match, such was the popularity of the sport. They ran down the lawns towards the pitch, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Those who knew the spell cast warming charms on themselves.

The wind was so strong that the players staggered sideways as they walked out onto the pitch. The combined noise of the crowd and the thunder quickly made Severus feel as though he were developing a nasty migraine. It was difficult to see through the heavy rain, and Severus actually pitied the players. If it were up to him, he'd have cancelled the match entirely.

The sound of Madam Hooch's whistle only just managed to penetrate the wall of sound created by the storm. Lee Jordan's commentary was lost entirely. Severus kept his eyes on Potter, who took a moment to steady himself on his broom. While his teammates did their best with the Quaffles and the Bludgers, he flew backwards and forwards across the pitch. Severus suspected that he couldn't see anything through the rain.

A flash of lightning coincided with another shriek from Madam Hooch's whistle. Wood had called for a time out. Severus recast his warming charm.

It was shortly after the break when a chill began to seep through Severus's body, making his bones feel heavy and achy. He felt like his head was filled with fog. Time seemed to stall.

Dementors, he acknowledged vaguely, forcing his eyes to focus on the dark shapes below. They blended into the gloom, but there must have been at least a hundred of them, collected on the pitch, directly below Potter.

Severus stood as Potter wavered, and then fell, his broom immediately swept away by the wind without its owner's weight to stabilize it. At the same moment, Dumbledore ran forward from wherever he'd been spectating. He waved his wand once to slow Potter's fall and a second time to repel the Dementors. The silver Patronus which emerged was incorporeal, but so vast and powerful that the Dementors fled without hesitation. The cold, oppressed feeling disappeared.

Severus felt his skin crawling, a feeling he did not often get, as he'd become desensitized to events which others might find disturbing. All those dementors in such close proximity made him feel like he was back in Azkaban, where he'd spent some time after the Dark Lord's downfall and before Dumbledore had convinced the Ministry to let him go.

The stands and field alike erupted in pandemonium. Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff's Seeker, had caught the Snitch, so the match was over, although it would have been over regardless. Dumbledore bent down over Potter while the boy's Gryffindor comrades flocked around him. Some morbidly-curious onlookers were also trying to press closer, and though Minerva tried to shoo them away, they only retreated when Severus descended and threatened to assign detentions.

Dumbledore conjured a stretcher and levitated Potter onto it. He straightened, looking more incensed than Severus had seen in a while. "Severus, Pomona, Filius, see to it that there are no Dementors wanderings elsewhere on the grounds. Those things should never have ventured so close in the first place." Then he walked away, followed by Minerva, magicking the stretcher along in front of him.

Thanks to Dumbledore's swift interference, Potter was only slightly worse for the wear, although Poppy insisted on keeping him in bed for a week. His broom had not been so lucky: Filius had spotted its remains lying beneath the Whomping Willow as they were patrolling the grounds. The old tree had taken great exception to being run into by a broomstick. Taking pity, the Ravenclaw had collected the pieces and brought them back inside.

The Dementors had not strayed from their positions outside the front of the castle since the incident. The background threat of Dumbledore's fury—and his powerful Patronus—seemed to be enough to keep them at bay for the time being. Severus suspected that the Headmaster had again tried to persuade Fudge to remove the blasted things.

As it was, Draco had made it his life's mission to taunt Potter about the lost Quidditch match and the boy's apparent poor reaction to the Dementors. His arm had conveniently healed in time for him to perform spirited imitations of Dementors in the middle of Potions. Weasley had finally thrown a crocodile heart at the Slytherin boy, which hit him in the face and provoked Severus to take fifty points from Gryffindor. If he could, he would have taken five points from Draco for causing a disruption around a corrosive combination of ingredients, the dunderhead.

A knock at the door interrupted Severus in his grading.

"Enter."

To his surprise, Lupin came in. He'd been expecting a student with some complaint or other. Of course, chances were that Lupin did have a complaint to make, so the latter part of his expectation was probably accurate.

"Hello, Severus," Lupin said politely.

"Whatever you want, I haven't got the time for it," Severus replied, not as politely.

"I see. Well, I'll be brief."

Merlin help me. Can't the man take a hint?

"I assume you had a good time teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts while I was away?"

"I haven't revealed your little secret, if that is what you mean to accuse me of," Severus snapped, understanding where this was going.

Lupin stared at him for a moment before pointing out, "You did assign a lengthy essay on werewolves—which, might I add, they do not have to write."

"None of the little dunderheads are astute enough to gather any meaning from the lesson, and as the event has already occurred, I fail to see why you are raising the issue with me."

"I appreciate that you brew Wolfsbane for me"—Lupin took a deep breath—"but I didn't appreciate the risks you took in your teaching. That was taking it too far, when I have done my best to be civil towards you and put the past behind us."

"I am not interested in having a heart-to-heart with you, Lupin. Go cry to someone who cares."

Severus returned his attention to the parchment in front of him. There was a pause, and then he heard Luipn's footsteps retreating and the door clicking shut.

Good riddance.