A/N: Thanks to SortingHat47 who, at first, told me this wasn't conceivable--and as a result, made me work harder for it. Thanks, also, to Zarathustra who, even though she's a Severus Snape fiend, let me get away with it. (Well, almost all of it--there's one word in this chapter that she and I will probably forever disagree upon. Guess which word it is!) Thank you both for pointing out those horrible little grammar, spelling, and punctuation thingies that I ignore when I'm trying to get my ideas up on the screen! Thanks to remuslives23 for coming up with 'black panther'!

Disclaimer: Not my characters; they belong to JKRowling. The plot of this story, however, is the product of my twisted imagination. (Oh, and Jonathan Blotts is mine. I'll claim him!)

Chapter 26: 'A Difference of Opinion'

Thursday, 20 February, 1985—9:42 p.m.

The Muggle Studies professor came into the Staff Room and glanced around. "Oh, there you are, Remus! There seems to be a boggart hiding in a closet up on the fourth floor. And, while it's doing us a favour by keeping the more romantically-inclined students from using it for their trysts, I've already had to assure several of the children that their worst nightmares aren't loose in the school. Would you mind taking care of it?"

"I'll take care of it in a bit," Lupin promised, looking back down at the book he had obviously borrowed from Flitwick, considering that the title said, 'Dark Magic in Ancient Babylon.'

Severus looked over at him, and then at the Muggle Studies professor, who had accepted Lupin's answer and was now leaving. "Crenshaw."

All the eyes in the room went to Severus as he stood and said, "I'll take care of it for you."

"I'll get to it, Severus," Lupin protested mildly.

"I have nothing better to do at the moment," Severus told him frostily. "And we all know how busy you've been lately."

He saw Lupin flush, and smiled tightly. He hadn't actually expected a reaction.

He was already several steps down the hallway before the werewolf caught up to him. "Go back to your book, Lupin."

"Severus, I said that I'd deal with it —"

The Potions master stopped and looked at the other man. "If the students are being terrified, it is our responsibility to remove that threat from the school as quickly as possible."

"It's just a bloody boggart —"

"Of course. What's a boggart when there's already a wolf among the lambs —"

Lupin laughed bitterly. "Gods, Severus, can't you come up with a better analogy? That one's a bit overdone, don't you think?"

"I suppose you should go up and deal with the boggart," Severus suddenly conceded, suddenly knowing exactly what to say to this – man, this intruder. "It might serve to help you prove that you're still of some use here."

That brought the werewolf up sharply. He froze and stared at Severus for a long, long moment. "You really know how to slice a person into ribbons with words, don't you?" And with that, he turned and walked stiffly down the hall, and started mounting the steps, presumably for the fourth floor.

10:02 p.m.

Sybill Trelawney entered the Staff Room and looked around with a confused look on her face.

"What is it now, Sybill?" McGonagall asked with a sigh. The other woman very rarely came down from her tower, save for the occasional meal and staff meetings. When she did emerge at any other time, there was always some ridiculous reason associated with it.

"Where do black panthers live?" The Divination professor asked.

"Black panthers?" Kettleburn repeated. "Southeast Asia, I believe, in the rainforest. Why?"

The woman stared sightlessly at some point on the wall. "I just had the strangest vision of a black panther and a wolf fighting…"

4:04 a.m.

Again, Libertas was with him in that unknown forest.

"Why are you making me work so hard at this?" Remus demanded. "Why can't you just tell me what forest this is, and what you want me to do?"

"You will know when you're ready," the centaur repeated patiently.

Remus sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I've been trying to work this out, but it's not coming together. If I tell you what I'm thinking, will you tell me where I'm going wrong?"

"If you think like a centaur, you will not misstep."

Remus chuckled. "Well, that's the bloody problem, isn't it? I don't think like one."

"You think like a human. You are impatient for answers. But you already know them."

"I already know the answers. I already have been to this forest. If I already know, then why don't I —" Remus threw his hands up in the air in a frustrated gesture, "know?"

"Because it is the wolf that knows."

"You are a right bastard, Libertas." When the centaur didn't move or make a comment, Remus sighed. "All right. Fine. You told me to think of the pack, of the alpha —"

"Your alpha," Libertas interrupted.

"— My alpha and the omega. And to remember Dar."

"Yes."

"What pack are you talking about? I don't have a pack," Remus swallowed hard and felt that awful pain in his heart that he usually did when he thought of those he once had considered his family and his pack. "Not anymore, at least."

The centaur pranced impatiently. "Who was your pack?"

Remus didn't have to think about the answer: he knew it already. "My family, my friends —" Think of the pack — my family and friends. Think of my alpha. Who was my —? Who did I respect above all others? Dad. Dad was my alpha. So if I think of my dad, and my pack… What does this have to do with this forest? Libertas said it's a place I've been. A place I've been with my pack? Or with my dad?

And suddenly, it all clicked into place. He had been to the Mersey Forest once with his dad. He had been where Libertas and his herd — the centaur's pack — had been.

But what was the omega? The last or the end of something.

"Remember Dar," the centaur suddenly said, as if reading his mind.

Dar, who may or may not be dead. Dar, who may have reached the end of…

Remus suddenly drew in a deep breath. "You want me to go to the Mersey Forest and tell your pack — your herd — about what happened to you."

Libertas smiled.

Friday, 21 February—6:42 p.m.

Remus stopped massaging his tight shoulder muscle and his blue eyes became sharply focused on the boy sitting across the table from him. "What did you say?"

"I said Professor Snape gave me an 'A' on my essay," Jonathan said, laying the essay on the table in front of his tutor.

"What?" Remus' question was purely rhetorical now, a mixture of astonishment and anger. "What in the bloody hell is he playing at? An 'A'?"

Madam Pince made a shushing noise and glared at him over the tops of her glasses. Remus ignored her.

"This essay easily deserved an 'E'. It was very probably even worth an 'O'!" Remus insisted loudly, as his fist crashed down on the table. "Merlin's bloody blue—" He didn't finish that phrase, which was probably wise.

"Did anybody in your class get an 'E'?" Remus demanded. "Or an 'O'?"

"Marlaina Fisher —"

The werewolf got to his feet. "Let's go see Miss Fisher, then, shall we?"

"Wait a minute! Why?"

"Gentlemen, I'll have no more of this," Madam Pince suddenly snapped.

"We're leaving," Remus said over his shoulder at her. "Come on, Jonathan. We've got to see that girl's essay."

The boy scrambled to collect his belongings. His tutor was already heading for the door, essay in hand, muttering things under his breath that couldn't mean Severus Snape any good.

"Why are we trying to find Marlaina?" Jonathan asked breathlessly, as he trotted to keep up with Remus' long strides.

The man stopped and turned to look at him. "I want to see exactly what Snape believes is worth an 'E'. In the past month, you've earned mostly passing marks, and that's fabulous. But, I know of at least four papers that I would have — no, that anybody would have given an 'E'; but he only gave you a 'P' or an 'A'. I'm bloody sick of it. I'm sick of the fact that you've worked so hard, and you bloody deserve a better grade than this." Remus held the essay up. It was clenched tightly in his fist, and Jonathan was suddenly very, very glad that the man wasn't angry with him.

Saturday, 22 February — 10:34 a.m.

"It's worth more than an 'A'."

"It is only deserving of an 'A.'"

"No, it's not. It bloody well deserves an 'E', Snape, if not an 'O'."

"By whose standards?"

"By anyone's standards!"

Severus tilted his head back slightly, so that he was looking down his nose at Lupin. "'Anyone' being the one who nearly failed Advanced Potions in the seventh year?"

"I did not — I am not here to discuss the marks I earned or the ones I didn't. I'm here to ask you to put this right."

"Well, perhaps I would if I were altogether certain that he wrote the paper," Severus said calmly.

Remus stared at him. "Are you accusing him of copying? Or plagiarising?"

"I was thinking that perhaps someone wrote it for him."

"What? Like who?"

"I'm saying it's deplorable enough that you could have."

Remus shot to his feet and backed away from the desk. Anger, sharp and dangerous, had surged through him, and he had the sudden nasty suspicion that he shouldn't have attempted this conversation now, only two days before the full moon. Still, he had come here to see this issue resolved. With both fists clenched in his pockets, he glared at Severus. "It's not right to punish that boy because of me."

"I am doing nothing of the sort."

Remus took two long steps and leaned his hands on the desk. "Then if you think he's turned in someone else's work as his own, you need to charge him with cheating."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "And if I do?'

"Then it will be horribly embarrassing for you and highly amusing for me when Dumbledore or Flitwick decide he did the research, organized, and wrote the damned thing all on his own," Remus said with a dangerous gleam in his eye, though he forced himself to smile pleasantly. "He deserves better on that essay."

"Get out of my office, Lupin."

Remus moved the essay over so that it was right in front of Severus. "Do the right thing for once, Severus. Give Jonathan the mark he deserves."

"It is my class, it was an essay I assigned —"

"And so, you'll give whatever mark you want," Remus finished the sentence for him.

Severus actually smiled: a self-satisfied smirk of triumph. "Exactly."

Remus took a deep breath. "Fine." He grabbed the essay from Snape's desk and began to roll it up. "The fact is, Severus, that he'll be a better Potions student than I ever was. He knows things instinctively. I just showed him how to organize his thoughts and write better so that he's finally able to prove what he knows. And," the werewolf grinned wolfishly, "he just needed someone with some basic Potions skills to show him what his professor didn't." He saw Severus' lip curl, and the black eyes flare with anger. Perhaps it was the coming full moon or his already considerable anger on Jonathan's part. Perhaps it was stupidity, but he couldn't resist one parting shot as he turned and started for the door: "But we know why he got this grade: I made you look incompetent, and you can't stand it."

The Potions Master's hand blurred as it went up into his sleeve.

Remus reached for the wand in his pocket, but knew he was going to be too late. As Severus' wand cleared the man's sleeve, Remus threw himself down onto the floor. The hex flew over his head, smashing into the stone wall beyond, sending bits of sand and rock in all directions.

Another spell was already coming at Remus, but his wand was in his hand now, and a simple "Protego!" sent it away from him. The wolf inside his mind howled with satisfaction.

"I said get out, Lupin!" Severus snarled.

Remus couldn't help grinning from the adrenaline and ferocity coursing through him. "Are you going to make me, Snivellus?"

"You have no right to be here in the first place," the Potions professor said angrily. "You don't belong here, Lupin!"

It hurt, that simple truth, but Remus wasn't about to let Snape know it. "I belong here as long as the Headmaster says that I do."

"He's a fool for bringing you here!"

"For the love of — I'm not trying to lure the students down to the Shrieking Shack —"

"Like you did one other time?"

"I had nothing to do with that, Snape! You know that!" Remus shouted, hearing the frustration in his own voice at the protestation.

"Of course not. It was all Black's doing," Severus sneered. "You were never to blame for anything, were you? Lupin the Prefect, one of the Marauders, one of Dumbledore's golden Gryffindors… It was always Black or Potter who you claimed led you astray. How convenient that must have been when Black was arrested."

Remus felt his hackles rise, and he swallowed the growl that was forming. He wanted Snape to shut up because he knew what would come next from the Potion Master's lips would be irredeemably hurtful and nasty. The wolf, however, was waiting in nearly joyful anticipation, knowing that the fight was just beginning.

With his wand still aimed right at Remus' chest, the dark-haired man continued, "How convenient indeed. You had so much practice at blaming Black for your transgressions that it had to be very, very easy to let the blame be placed solely on his head for betraying the Potters —"

"I had nothing to do with what happened to James and Lily!" Remus said harshly.

"Of course not," Severus drawled, sarcasm dripping — no, pouring — over, around, and through the words. "You had nothing to do with their deaths. You only ignored the fact that Black belonged to the Dark Lord. You ignored it, Lupin! And they died because you were too blind to see what was right there in — Protego!" The shield went up right before Remus' hex slammed into him, sending white sparks everywhere.

11:02 a.m.

A wild-eyed boy came charging into Minerva McGonagall's office, panting and sweating. "Professor, they're fighting in the Great Hall! They've locked the doors —"

"Who is fighting in the Great Hall?" McGonagall asked, already moving from behind her desk and starting for the door.

"Professor Snape and Mr Lupin —"

The boy halted in his tracks and watched the Transfiguration professor hurry down the corridor. Surely he hadn't heard her say what he thought…

11:11 a.m.

McGonagall and Flitwick met at the top of the first floor steps: Filius had been on his way up the stairs to get the Headmaster. McGonagall quickly sent a Patronus off for the wizard instead, and she and Flitwick went down the stairs to keep the students away from the Great Hall.

"They've both gone mad, if they are in there duelling," Flitwick commented.

Something hit the doors, rattling them dangerously.

"They're certainly up to something that they shouldn't be," Minerva said. "What in the world would make them do something so idiotic?"

Was that the sound of broken glass?

"Albus is going to have their heads on pikes if they don't come to their senses," Filius remarked.

They stood staring at each other for a moment, and then they both smiled. "Care to raise the wager?" the Charms professor asked quietly.

"Ten Galleons that Severus drew first," McGonagall said after a moment.

"Hmmm…" Flitwick looked thoughtful. "It's only two days until the full moon, Minerva..." He let his sentence trail off meaningfully.

She shrugged. "I still think —" She stopped when she saw the smaller man's eyes flicker past her and turned.

Albus Dumbledore was descending the last staircase, three students on his heels.

"Minerva, Filius — what is happening?"

"The doors are locked, Albus," Flitwick said. "We thought we'd wait for you before we tried to open them."

Their eyes were suddenly drawn to the doors. They had definitely just heard glass shattering.

"All right, children, back to your dormitories," McGonagall ordered the three curious students lurking behind the Headmaster. They groaned, but turned away as Flitwick made a shooing motion with his hands.

"What brought this on?" Dumbledore asked.

Flitwick shrugged. "It's Severus and Remus," he said, as if that was all that was needed to explain.

"I warned you that this was coming for a while, now," McGonagall said to Dumbledore sternly. "I told you that Severus has been full of resentment for weeks, and Remus is… well, the moon will be full in two days."

The Headmaster sighed and put his hands on the doors. "Filius, follow me, please. I'll disarm Severus. You disarm Remus. Minerva, please close the doors behind us."

He concentrated for a moment and suddenly a blue glow surrounded the doors and they crashed open. The two wizards entered the Great Hall quickly, immediately needing to step around the remains of a bench, and the doors slammed shut behind them.

Remus was the closer of the two, and thusly, was the first to find his wand stripped from his hand. Severus likewise found himself disarmed as Dumbledore stopped at a point in front of Severus and across the hall from Remus.

Now that both young men were staring at him, the Headmaster let his gaze slowly burn over each one. "What is going on here?"

The two younger men exchanged glances, but said nothing.

It gave Flitwick a chance to note the damage done. It was substantial, but considering they were two grown wizards, he wasn't really surprised.

The Hufflepuffs' table had collapsed in two places, and part of the Ravenclaws' table was nothing but matchsticks at the end closest to the Staff's table. A Slytherin tapestry was smouldering, threatening to blaze at any moment. Five panes of glass had shattered in two different windows, and a countless quantity of candles lay on the floor in pieces. Filius was certain that there had to be at least twenty scorch marks on the walls, and at least as many magically-created gouges in the stones of the wall and the floor.

"Remus, if you'd please get off the table," Dumbledore suggested.

The werewolf glanced around him, as if just now realising that he was, indeed, standing in the middle of the Gryffindor table.

Severus stood unflinchingly on the dais at the front of the room, and Flitwick now saw the bloody cut along his cheekbone.

"Are you all right, Severus?" Dumbledore asked gently.

The Potions Master nodded once, stiffly and curtly, his black eyes fastened on Lupin.

"And you, Remus?" the Headmaster asked.

"I'm fine," the werewolf said, hopping down from the table. He winced audibly as he did.

"Then tell me what in the world would possess the two of you to do such an incredibly senseless and dangerous thing as duel in the Great Hall, where any student could have been injured by your foolishness!" Dumbledore demanded. His words echoed thunderously in the room.

Snape stood silently unrepentant. Lupin was equally defiant, but not nearly as silent. "We were having — a difference of opinion," he said, shooting a glance at Severus.

Flitwick knew the situation was very serious, but he couldn't help snickering under his breath.

"'A difference of opinion'?" Dumbledore repeated. He looked at Severus. "And do you, Mr Snape, also agree with Mr Lupin's explanation? That this was merely a 'difference of opinion'?"

Filius saw the anger in the black eyes. The young man did not want to agree with Remus, did not want Remus to have the last word, but was unwilling to provide a more adequate — and a more correct — version of what had happened. "That is one way of looking at it," he finally admitted.

Dumbledore sighed, but the anger was still present in his voice when he spoke again: "You two will repair all the damage you have done. Then I expect to see you both in my office immediately after you are finished. And I will not tolerate such behaviour from either one of you again. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Perfectly."

Dumbledore tossed Severus' wand to him and then turned sharply, his robes billowing behind him with the speed of his movements.

Flitwick paused to glance one last time at the miscreants: one completely motionless, except for the cold fire still burning in his eyes; the other thoughtfully rubbing his thumb against his bottom lip, his eyes hard with the suppression of whatever he was feeling at this moment.

Still, Remus smiled at Filius when the Charms professor returned his wand.

"Who drew first?" Flitwick whispered.

Remus blinked, and then the blue eyes suddenly danced with restrained laughter. "Wasn't me," he whispered in return.

12:37 p.m.

"He is not a threat to you, Severus."

The Potions professor glared at him balefully. "Shall we talk about the Whomp—?"

"No, we shan't," Dumbledore interrupted. "We're talking about the situation that exists now." He stroked Fawkes' head one last time and then went to stand beside his desk—and the chair in which Severus Snape now sat. "You went to the carnival to look for him. You were the one who forced them to find Healer Weimer. You had a chance to turn things around, Severus. Why did you not take it?"

"You know why," Severus said, barely moving his lips.

"Because of an incident that happened in your fifth year?" The Headmaster shook his head incredulously. When the younger man didn't answer, Dumbledore stroked his beard slowly, thinking very deeply. The barest wisp of a thought brushed against the old wizard's consciousness, and he allowed his mind to follow it to see where it led. "Severus, it is not right to punish him for whom his friends were. After all, you had friends of your own that were involved in dangerous activities."

"His friends —" the younger man broke off, shaking his head, his lip curled into a sneer. "He and his sadistic friends tortured me, and you allowed it."

"And you did nothing to them in return?" the Headmaster asked. "What did you expect me to do, Severus? If I had expelled Black or Potter, I'd have had to expel you. Sirius Black sent you under the Whomping Willow. You developed Sectumsempra. Which could I say was the more evil of the two?"

Severus stared at him in uncharacteristic disbelief. Then he got up and strode angrily out of the room.

The Headmaster sighed heavily. He had hoped…

1:24 p.m.

Remus turned to close the door very gently behind him. He stayed there, his palm resting on the smooth, cool wood as he said quietly, "It's time for me to go."

"Remus, there's no reason for —"

Now the younger man turned to face Dumbledore, and the Headmaster was surprised to see the firm set to Remus' jaw—and the determined look in his eyes. "I've been thinking it for a while, and this is what I've been waiting for," the werewolf said. "I was a fool to let him get to me like that. I was a bigger fool to provoke him." He shook his head. "It's time that I moved on."

The Headmaster was silent for a long moment. "Are you certain this is what you want?"

Remus shrugged. "I have no reason to stay."

"Have you found a position somewhere?"

"You know I haven't."

"Then where will you go?"

"I'll do what I always do."

"Sleep on the streets and steal or beg for food?" Dumbledore's voice was quiet, but Remus could sense the man's disapproval — and his discomfort.

"I've done it before," the werewolf acknowledged, his tone sharp. Then he softened it and went on. "I have the money that Alastor got for me from Parsons. I can live on that for a bit."

"When are you planning to leave?"

He saw Remus' quick glance out the window, and heard him draw a deep breath. "Tonight."

"Is that wise? The full moon is in two days. What will you do then?"

"I'll find a place. I've got two days."

"Why don't you leave after the full moon? It's only two more days, and then you could take another day or two to recover…"

The werewolf was already shaking his head. "No, I'll be fine."

Dumbledore knew he didn't have the right to hold the young man here; if Remus wanted to leave, he could leave. But Albus was not going to let him go without an offer of help or assistance. "If you come back here for your transformation, Madame Pomfrey can —"

Remus cut him off abruptly. "I've imposed enough."

"You haven't —"

Suddenly the young man's composure broke—just a little, but enough for Dumbledore to feel the anguish. "Please don't," Remus whispered, his voice quavering just the tiniest bit. "This is what I've been working toward —going back out on my own. I have to go."

"You're certain."

"Yes."

How long they stood there, staring at each other silently, the Headmaster couldn't tell. But Remus suddenly turned away, and reached for the door.

"I think you should be the one to tell Jonathan Blotts," Dumbledore said quietly.

He saw Remus' eyes close for a moment as he absorbed that simple order and what that was going to entail.

"I will," the younger man finally promised. "But will you tell the others — Hagrid and the professors — that I appreciated all they've done to make me feel —" he swallowed hard, "— at home?"

"I will."

Remus jerked the door open quickly now, as if he couldn't leave the office fast enough. But then he stopped and looked back once last time. "Thank you," he whispered.

"There is nothing to thank me for," Dumbledore said softly.

It seemed for a moment like the younger man might argue with him, but then he left, closing the door firmly behind him.

The Headmaster rubbed his forehead tiredly with his fingers. "And there goes the second most lonely young man that I know."

And then suddenly, his hand lowered and he began to stroke his beard instead. "Yes," he muttered. "Of course."

He then picked up his wand and, thinking of a happier moment in his life, conjured a silver phoenix…

3:56 p.m.

As Remus approached the Ravenclaws' Tower, he saw three girls walking toward him. He recognized one of them as being a Ravenclaw. "I need to see Jonathan Blotts," Remus said to her after greeting them quickly. "Would you know –?"

"Oh, I'll get him for you," the girl said. "He was in the common room as we left." She gave Remus a broad smile, leaving him to chitchat with the other girls.

It was only a minute or two before Jonathan came charging out of the door and into the hallway. He stopped a few feet from Remus, his eyes wide and nearly frightened. "Mr Lupin? Are you — all right? Did you really get into a fight with Professor Snape? Someone said you did, but —"

"Let's take a walk," Remus suggested, cutting him off. He nodded in farewell to the girls and pulled Jonathan along with him as he started to walk.

"Did Professor Snape —?"

"Let's wait until we get somewhere a little more private, shall we?" Remus said.

"Is there something wrong?" Jonathan asked. His eyes were becoming wider and rounder by the second. "Whatever it is, it's bad news, isn't it?"

Remus smiled ruefully. "Can you give me a little bit of time to explain?"

He led Jonathan silently up to the seventh floor and made him stand against a blank stretch of wall. Then, as Jonathan watched him, bewildered, Remus walked past him three times, concentrating on what he needed. I need a place where I can talk to Jonathan — a couple of chairs, a table —something to drink would be nice…

The door appeared and he smiled and motioned for Jonathan to turn around.

"Where did that come from?" the boy asked, mystified.

"It's magic," Remus said with a grin. "Go on in. There's nothing in there to hurt you."

They found themselves sitting in at a small wooden table in two wooden chairs with padded seats. It was strongly reminiscent of sitting at a pub. The bottles of butterbeer on the table helped complete the setting.

They sat down, and as Remus opened the bottles, Jonathan again started to badger him for answers. "So, what did happen with Professor Snape? They say you two locked yourselves up in the Great Hall. I tried to see for myself, but the professors had blocked off the stairways and wouldn't let us near. Did he say something to you? Was this about my paper? Did he —"

"Jonathan, stop!" Remus said sharply. He closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "Sorry. Just give me a moment, will you? I'll answer all your questions, I promise."

The boy sat back and took a drink of butterbeer. He looked as if he were going to explode with the effort of holding back another barrage of questions.

Remus sighed. "The — disagreement — that Professor Snape and I had was indirectly related to your essay, yes. We argued about it and things got nasty. But, ultimately, it was the things that have remained unsettled between us for years that made us do one of the most incredibly stupid things that I can remember doing for a long time."

"So you were fighting in the Great Hall!" The boy's eyes lit up.

"I'm not proud of that," Remus mumbled, looking down at the table. He didn't want Jonathan to see any trace of defiance that might remain.

"Who won?"

"It doesn't matter," the werewolf replied with a sigh. "There will be some that will think that he did –"

Jonathan's face fell. "You lost?"

Remus laughed bitterly. "I gave a decent accounting for myself, and so did he. But after the Headmaster stopped us —"

"I'll bet he was furious!"

Wanting to get through this now, Remus ignored Jonathan's comment and continued just a bit louder to drown the boy's words, "— I decided that I should leave."

The Ravenclaw stared at him speechlessly, his mouth agape. "You're leaving?"

Remus nodded. "Yes."

"When?"

"Tonight."

"But, you can't!" Jonathan cried. "I've got a paper on — Are you leaving because you lost?"

"I didn't lo— oh, for Merlin's sake, Jonathan! This is not about who won or lost. Truth be told, in the actual fight, neither one of us won. This is about —" Remus paused to think of the right word, "— timing. I told you that I was pushing you toward the time when you could handle doing your work here on your own. But I was here because I was pushing myself toward the time when I could go back to my life and whatever that may bring. I have something I need to do, Jonathan, and I can't do it while I'm here. It's time for me to go and do it."

"But tonight?" Jonathan protested. "Can't you wait a day or two?"

"I could," Remus admitted. "The full moon is in two nights, and I would rather be here for it. But if I don't leave now…" He took a deep breath and shook his head. "I can't stay."

You're letting Snivellus win, Moony! Sirius' howl was almost audible.

"But I — you — won't —" the boy seemed stunned, unable to put words together to make a coherent sentence. Remus took a long drink of butterbeer, giving the Ravenclaw some time to pull things together in his head. "My essay! For Defence Against the Dark Arts!" Jonathan finally blurted out.

Remus chuckled. "You'll do fine. You —"

"I was going to do it on werewolves!" Jonathan exclaimed.

Now it was Remus' turn to be taken aback.

"After we were talking up on the Tower, I found out there's not much out there about werewolves. Nothing good, at any rate. There are books written by people who only tell how to kill them —"

"I've seen enough of those," Remus muttered.

"— But there aren't many books that really tell what it's like to be a werewolf. I was thinking that maybe you could help me find some books to write the essay —" the boy smiled shyly, "— and maybe I could start getting information together to actually write my own book about werewolves when I leave here."

Remus couldn't help but chuckle. "Jonathan, that's an extremely ambitious goal. And while I appreciate the thought —"

"I know you don't believe me, but —"

"It's not that I don't believe you," Remus interrupted. "It's just that you're only in your fifth year. You've got two and a half years yet to go before you leave Hogwarts. And you've got talents that you're just discovering. You may decide there are other worthy subjects to write about. Or," he forced a chuckle, "all the essays you're going to do during your seventh year in preparation for your N.E.W.T.s will take all the joy out of writing."

He saw Jonathan open his mouth, but he leaned forward and put his hand on the boy's forearm. "Whatever you say, it's not going to change anything. I've already told Professor Dumbledore that I'm leaving."

It wasn't until he saw tears well up in the boy's eyes that he felt the sting of salt in his own. "It's been good knowing you, Jonathan. You've been good for me."

The farewell hug that the boy gave him made him feel more human than he had in months.

7:23 p.m.

Remus slipped through the gates and waited until they closed and locked behind him. There was a finality to the clanging sound that made him sigh.

He had thought he would never return to Hogwarts after he had finished his seventh year. He had been pleasantly surprised to find himself assisting others in setting wards and charms around the grounds while they were fighting Voldemort.

This time, he had been given sanctuary and a place to stay while he healed.

Would he ever again get the chance to return? He turned to touch the gate one last time.

There was a sudden pop of someone Apparating, and he spun around, his wand clenched in his fist.

"There you are," Alastor Moody grunted. "Ready?"

"Ready for what?" Remus asked, completely bewildered.

"To go home, of course," the Auror replied, as if Remus was being deliberately stupid.

"To go —" Remus' voice failed him.

"Dumbledore said you were leaving. I didn't figure you'd want to sleep outside tonight. It's snowing like a bitch in London, and the cold up here'll freeze the tits off a bull. You remember how to get to my place, right?"

Dumbly, Remus nodded.

"See you there, then." And with that, Moody spun around and disappeared.

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