WARNING: This is a slash story, which means it contains male/male erotic content involving consenting adults. If you're not of legal age or are offended by such material, please go find something else to read.

TITLE: Fairy Wings
AUTHOR: Sean
EMAIL: whistleskiptag@yahoo.com
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Very little which lies herein belongs to me. The prominent characters are the mental property of Ms. Rowling, of course. I only take credit for the abysmal plot and questionable writing style. Any decent turn of phrase should probably be attributed to my beautifully-dispositioned, and more than competent beta-readers
SUMMARY: A young Sirius Black makes his opinion and temperament known to a young Mr. Potter. Years later, Remus Lupin is encouraged to take in a reluctant houseguest. And there is at least one point in the story wherein Severus Snape is forced to sport butterfly wings.
NOTES: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest - a response to original scenario number ten. A story inspired by a drawing of Snape, nude in fairy form, and looking quite displeased. The sketch was by the lady Summer Day.

Somewhere in the world, Justin McCormack would be sitting down to eat chocolate cake with his sister Katie, as it is her fourth birthday. Meanwhile, miles away, Millie Johnson hangs her laundry in the hopes of getting in at least one more load before she loses the daylight. Francis Mayfield mows his lawn, and Jennifer Gripe washes her dog. Needless to say, it is a very normal day across the globe. The only thing any of these people would have in common, aside from being human and alive on a Sunday, was that they were none of them wasting any thoughts on one Severus Snape. It was something of a pity that Sirius Black could not follow their numerous examples. Especially since there were so many other things that he could be wasting his thoughts on. James sighed a bit, adjusting his glasses while resigning himself to the fact that their chess game was probably going to have to wait for another time. "Go on, then."

Sirius took no notice of the sacrifice, or of James' selfless, if rather reluctant, urge for him to continue. He had been about to, anyway. "I don't have proof of it -- yet -- but I know he's up to something. Got to be. And since it's Snape it just can't be good. I think we should have gone with Remus to the library. What if Snape corners him there? I wouldn't doubt it. And Remus will be alone -- helpless --"

"Helpless?" He knew he wouldn't be able to stop the smirk from appearing on his face, so he just allowed it. James rather thought that their friend was anything but helpless, whatever Snape tried to pull. "Anyway, he isn't alone. I think Peter was doing research, too. Someone will be, at least, since the paper's due tomorrow. What do you think Snape is going to do to Remus, anyway? Without his slimy friends with him, he's really unimpressive. Or do you think they'll all of them gang up?"

"No . . . I think Snape wants to get Remus alone."

Sirius spat the name of the Slytherin boy out like it tasted bad to him, just as he always had. But James couldn't help but notice that his colour was a bit off, this time. He looked sick to his stomach. Showing a bit more concern than he had earlier, James leaned forward. "Why? What for? Snape could never take Remus in a duel. He knows that as well as we do."

James watched as the face in front of him went through several different expressions, none of them pleasant, and then turn an interesting shade of red before it blurted out, "I think he wants Remus!"

"Alone. You've said as much. But why?"

"Sexually!"

There were a few moments of perfect stillness while both of the boys digested this. James broke it, first. "You're kidding."

"I am not kidding." And the murderous expression on Sirius' face agreed with him.

"You're not kidding. Okay . . . but Snape's not . . . I mean, you really think he's queer?"

Sirius nodded, sternly. "He's a bloody fairy. The way he talks . . . moves . . . and when he's not sniffing around Remus he's staring at him."

"You know, Sirius, it sounds as though you've been paying a lot of attention to Snape, yourself . . ." It was a joke, of course, entirely meant to provoke Sirius into throwing a punch to defend his reputation. James ducked it, and grinned. The tension which had been steadily building in the room eased up a bit.

"I'm being serious, you git." They both sniggered at the unintended, and really very old pun.

"Well . . . I suppose we can't put it past him. I still say Remus can defend himself."

"We can't just let him get away with it though!"

Sirius had actually stood up in his outrage, and James had to blink a few times before responding, quietly. "Get away with what, Sirius? I mean, you think that Snape's a tosser, sure. But if you're right, and it is a crush . . . then maybe he isn't actually trying to get Remus expelled. That would be an ease to one of our worries, at least."

"Can you even hear yourself? He'd love to get all of us expelled. You're making it sound as though this . . . crush . . . or whatever . . . is a good thing. It's disgusting! That greasy, nasty, ugly toad eyeing Remus . . . and us not doing a thing about it! And eventually he's going to stumble on what Remus is -- what then?"

James shook his head. He shrugged, still trying to keep the conversation lighter than it was. "Well, I guess then he'd probably get over the crush pretty fast."

That sentence had effectively put an end to that exchange, and had given Sirius Black quite a bit to think about as he made his way to the library in order to keep an eye on their friend. James Potter sighed his second sigh of the day, and wondered idly if he should take to playing chess against himself until everyone had come back to their senses. He fervently hoped that Sirius wouldn't do anything too stupid over this.

Over the next few days James became increasingly aware of the animosity in the air at Hogwarts. Sirius was openly glaring at Snape whenever he could get the chance to, although Snape haughtily ignored every glare. James did catch a few glances towards Remus coming from the Slytherin; ones which he couldn't read very well. They could have been looks of jealousy, contempt, or, he admitted, perhaps some sort of interest. He really wasn't sure, but he didn't think they were anything to get so riled over. Sirius, however, seemed intent on being riled. James decided to take a similar position as their friend Peter, and just stay out of the whole mess. Remus Lupin, despite his dubious of honour of being in the middle of the whole thing, acted as though he were blissfully unaware of all of it.

Of course, James reasoned that some of that ignorance might be due to the fact that the full moon was coming up. Remus had more important things to think about than Severus Snape's ambiguous looks, or why Sirius Black was hovering around him like a mother hen. And James doubted that Remus needed the extra stress, so he refrained from mentioning it to him. He also made Sirius promise not to pose any of his theories about Snape to Remus as well. If Sirius wanted to rant and rave about it, he would have to settle for James and Peter as an audience. If Remus really was oblivious, James wanted to make sure he stayed that way. After all, he wasn't even completely convinced, himself, that Sirius' suspicions were founded.

Once a month, Remus Lupin had to make a trip to the Shrieking Shack at dusk, via a passage guarded by the Whomping Willow. Severus Snape, whatever his intentions were, was undoubtedly curious as to where Remus disappeared to. James had to admit that it was very likely Snape would eventually get it into his head to follow, but he really didn't think Snape would get very far, or do anything about it. After all, Snape would see that Remus was with Madam Pomfrey -- and that meant there was little chance that Snape would be able to get them in trouble with whatever he found out. So, James really wasn't worried about it. And he didn't think to draw any conclusions when Sirius went dashing by with a "cat-who-ate-the-canary" expression on his face. He just followed to see what was up. "Sirius?"

"Come on! We have to watch this. Bring the Cloak!" Sirius waved him on. James obeyed, saving his questions as it was apparent that Sirius wasn't about to stop for them at that moment. They easily snuck out of the castle and onto the grounds, making way to the forest's edge. Sirius finally stopped them as close to the Whomping Willow as was safe, and they took cover there, watching.

James couldn't stand the mystery for very long. "What are we doing?"

"Waiting." Sirius still had that grin on his face. It was distinctly unnerving.

That was pretty clear. "For what?"

"Shh. Any second now . . ." Even as Sirius spoke they could see Pomfrey and Lupin making their own way towards the Willow. The boys sat in silence, watching the two vanish en route to the Shrieking Shack. They continued their silence up until Madam Pomfrey reappeared, and even held it long enough for her to get back to the castle. James waited a few more moments before he opened his mouth to ask why they were still sitting there, when the approach of an all-too familiar figure answered his question for him. Severus Snape was heading towards the Whomping Willow himself, and he seemed to have some idea at least what he was doing there.

James felt his breath catch in his throat. Sirius wouldn't have . . . But as Snape picked up a stick and, after some searching, clumsily pushed the knot at the base of the violent tree, gaining access to the passage, James realised exactly what Sirius had done. "You idiot!"

For his part, Sirius didn't look the least bit ashamed. "He wanted to know. Thought I'd do the greasy little fairy a favour for once."

"Sirius! He'll be killed!" And Remus will have to pay for it if he is. God. James leapt up to follow Snape, and Sirius followed him -- more to hold him back than to help. But he pushed Sirius in front of him, laying that plan to waste.

"You did this!" James hissed at him, "you fix it!"

They could both barely see the figure hurrying ahead of them, deeper into the passage. Sirius cast the spell somewhat blind and more than a little half-heartedly, and neither of them could be really sure if it hit anything. Still, Sirius crossed his arms with an insufferably smug expression on his face. "Fixed."

James wasn't going to take his friend's word, however; he pushed past Sirius in order to catch Snape and drag him back. He wasn't about to let any of them go down like this, not over some sick practical joke. Where was Snape? James was faster, and should have overtaken him by now. The ungodly noises that the monster was making were sounding a lot closer, but there was no other boy to be seen. There was, however, a very slight fluttering sound nearby . . .

It all happened quickly. The realisation hit that Snape had been transfigured into some sort of bug . . . a moth, or something similar, and then the wolf was there at the end of the tunnel. James scrambled to catch a very stunned Snape -- making note of the fact that catching a snitch in broad daylight was nothing compared to catching a terrified moth in a dank, dark tunnel -- and then fled. He knew that Snape, if it really were Snape in his hands, was not technically in any danger. That did not change the fact that he himself was, and he wasn't going to just leave a fellow student -- whatever form they were in or disposition they had -- at the possible mercy of a werewolf. He wouldn't dare think about what would happen if Snape had not been transfigured at all, and had just been a lot faster than they had counted on.

Sirius was waiting for him at the entrance, and was laughing -- laughing! -- by the time they got far enough away from the Whomping Willow for James' comfort. James let go of the moth so that he could hit Sirius in the stomach.

"Oof!" Sirius doubled over and backed away, but his eyes caught something on the ground and he started sniggering again.

"I can't believe you! You . . . You . . ." But words were failing him right now. There simply wasn't an insult that was harsh enough to cover exactly what Sirius had done just now. James glared. "Do you have any idea what's going to happen?"

"Nothing." It was a gasp, and made even more muddled by the suppressed laughter, but James understood it nonetheless. "Nothing's . . . going . . . to happen. Look!"

Whatever retort had formed in James' throat died the second his eyes caught the thing Sirius was pointing at. It was very small, but visible enough in the light of the full moon. It wasn't a moth after all; it was a tiny person who looked to be wrapped up in butterfly wings. The skin was pale, but the hue was somewhat yellow. If James had any doubts as to who it was, they were blown away by the indignant stance and the look of fury on the tiny face. They were too well-known to him. It was definitely a miniature Severus Snape, completely nude, and hiding that fact with his new wings. "A . . . fairy?"

Sirius let forth a fresh burst of laughter. "It suits him! The tosser! Let his true colours show!"

James didn't think that Snape's true colours were purple and orange, but he was too stunned to say anything. He crouched down to look at Snape. "Sorry."

Fairies cannot, as a rule, speak. But the Snape-fairy made such a show of pointing and waving its fists in rage that it was perfectly clear the apology was not accepted. It probably didn't help matters much that James began to titter into his hands the minute the minuscule tirade began. He couldn't help it, and was soon laughing almost as hard as Sirius had been, though more from relief than anything else. They had made it out of the situation alive, after all, and the outcome was somewhat funny. "We need to . . . oh, man . . . we need to change him back, Sirius . . ."

"Why? So he can tell? I say we leave him like he is. Form fits him, even though he makes just as ugly a fairy as he did a human."

James grinned. "I thought you said he was a fairy, anyway. No, we need to change him back . . . He's not going to tell. Not if he doesn't want us telling about this. He'd never live it down."

Sirius didn't look too sure about that, but he knew that any arguments would be met with James Potter's very persistent brand of logic. So he pointed his wand at the fairy, resisting the strong temptation to ask if they couldn't at least get a picture of Snape this way for assurance, and changed Snape back to his usual self, which was no less hostile than the fairy had been. "You heard what he said, right? You don't tell, we don't tell."

"You . . . !" Snape scrambled back from both of them, glowered for a moment, gathered his robes and anger about him almost as if to protect himself, and then made a straight line for the castle at a near run.

Sirius shook his head. "We should follow him."

James nodded. He made a mental note to come back for the Invisibility Cloak later, and took off after Snape with Sirius by his side. Shaking his head whenever Sirius offered to stun Snape in order to stop him, or transfigure him again. It was not long before they were all caught by the caretaker and taken to the very place Snape was hoping to go anyway -- the headmaster's office.

After the headmaster got the story from each of them, separately, the vow of silence which James and Sirius had initially tried to invoke was pressed on all three of them. Sirius and James would be punished for their act, of course, and no one would breathe a word of what happened otherwise. To protect Remus. James almost couldn't believe that Snape had agreed to keep quiet, and doubted that the Slytherin would have, had he not had something to hide from the events in question as well.

All of the looks Snape gave any of them afterwards were dark and hateful. Most of them were now directed towards James and Sirius, and any that found their way to Remus Lupin were just as laced with contempt, if a little fear as well. If Sirius had intended to destroy any possibility of a crush, he had done just that.

Remus Lupin had a lot to be thankful for. He was grateful, for instance, that he had a roof over his head. Grateful that he had managed to find enough work with the nearby Muggles to at least feed and house himself. Certainly things hadn't seemed so bright when he had left his position at Hogwarts, over a year ago. Of course, at that time he wasn't sure exactly what he would do, or how things would turn out. And at that time, he was alone. That was no longer the case, since Sirius Black had come to stay with him. True, Sirius was often gone for periods, even up to days at a time. And it was also true that the times themselves were turning somewhat dark, what with Voldemort's return. There was plenty about in the air to be fearful of, but Remus still couldn't help his gratitude. He had missed Sirius. He had missed friendship, really. He didn't always number himself amongst the human race, and the feeling was mutual. He had grown painfully accustomed to solitude over his life, and even in Hogwarts -- surrounded by people -- he couldn't shake the constant pang of loneliness. At least it had been dulled at the school. Here, with literally no one around for miles, it had reached all new heights.

But that was before Sirius came. There were no words to describe the feeling Remus had when Sirius turned out to be an innocent man. It was just like having a lost friend resurrected. Remus smiled at the empty fields visible from his single kitchen window. He was no longer alone.

His home was very small, but it served its purpose. It was more comfortable than the Shrieking Shack by far. Four little rooms made up the cabin, and the cabin itself was isolated by miles of lengthy fields in front and dense forest in back. Nestled comfortably between the two, he felt safe from doing harm to others. The walk to civilisation was a daunting one, so his trips into what passed for local towns and settlements were kept to a minimum. Every few days he would show up at a farm or in town to do odd jobs, and no one noticed when he wasn't there. It was an ideal situation, all things considered. A compromise between stability and the kind of vagabond existence which had offered him privacy, if nothing else. Now, Remus Lupin kept to himself, and no one questioned that. He dressed like a vagrant, but no one seemed to care. And if he wanted to take in a stray black dog, no one could stop him. People did notice the dog, of course. It was a hard dog not to notice, due to its size, but it seemed tame enough; always trotting happily alongside its master and never growling or snapping at anyone. It didn't take long at all for the two to become inseparable in the eyes of the locals.

At home, Sirius slept on a dilapidated sofa in what passed for the cabin's entry room. This led to the kitchen, the bathroom, and the bedroom. It was inarguably the largest room in the cabin, meaning there was enough square footage for four people of average size (or five of less than average) to sit or stand in comfortably. The sofa took up most of the space, though there was still room enough for a mismatched armchair, and a low coffee table adorned with a few old books. Remus kept what little else he had in the way of personal belongings in the bedroom, along with a single-person bed. The tiny kitchen was clean, and stocked as well as he could hope to keep it. There were even four chairs around the table, although Remus couldn't remember whether that had been wishful thinking on his part, or Fate's irony; the chairs had probably only been available in sets. Not that it mattered. Sirius was there now, and the man often used one of the superfluous chairs to prop his feet on while he read the paper or ate breakfast.

Remus turned from where he stood at the kitchen window to find his friend doing exactly that: sitting at the table and reading a newspaper with his boots crossed casually on the seat of the empty chair opposite his own. Yes, Remus had much to be grateful for. He smiled to himself, and spoke softly. "Anything?"

"Nothing. Not that I expected anything but. 'Sides, we're waiting for Dumbledore to send further word. It's not likely he'd put a message out in a Muggle paper."

Remus chuckled a little. "You never really know, with Albus Dumbledore."

"I guess not!" Sirius grinned back at him before letting his attention fall back to his paper. "If we need anything from town . . ."

Remus nodded, absently. "I know. We'd have to get it today. But we don't. We should be all right for a few days."

"Better be sure, Moony. You know I can't very well waltz into a store for us."

Remus rolled his eyes a little. "Useless, you are."

Sirius laughed at that, and may or may not have been about to reply when there was a knock at the door. The sound sobered him completely. "-- Are we expecting anyone?"

Shaking his head a bit, Remus moved out of the kitchen to answer the door, glancing back to be sure there was a dog in the kitchen, in lieu of a wanted criminal. "Hell--oh. You."

Remus stepped back, to allow the black-clad figure to swoop inside. The dog, having cautiously approached to see who the visitor was, bared its fangs and growled.

Dark eyes narrowed, but otherwise the man didn't seem very impressed with the display. However, Remus did notice that he kept a good distance and seemed to be having trouble finding just the right facial expression. "Sociable as ever, Black? I'm . . .so very pleased . . . to see you, too."

Remus quietly shut the door and put what he hoped was a calming hand on the dog's back. He was trying not to growl, himself, as he had his own reasons for not wanting be in the presence of Severus Snape. At least the man didn't look happy to be here. In fact, if one cared to look at him closely, he seemed downright nervous. Remus forced himself to be polite, but his teeth were nevertheless trying very hard to clench. "What are you doing here, Severus?"

Snape didn't seem to be in any mood to tell them right away. He straightened a bit, crossed his arms, and snootily tossed his head once to the side before answering. "I assure you, I have no more care to be here than you do to have me here. Dumbledore asked me to contact you, in person."

"Why? What's his message?" Remus waited a moment, but he could tell by the ever-narrowing glare and the slight flush coming up into the usually sallow cheeks that Snape wasn't sure. Remus sighed. "He didn't give you any message, did he?"

The owl flew in through the open kitchen window before Snape could form an answer. The letter it carried was, not surprisingly, addressed to the cabin. However, the person it was addressed to was not Remus Lupin nor Sirius Black, but Severus Snape. Remus handed it over to him. "Perhaps this is it?"

Snape snatched the letter from the other man and tore it open. He read it quickly, clutching the paper tighter with each line, and then read it again to be sure that it said what he thought it said and hissing under his breath, "He wouldn't dare . . ."

"What is it?" Remus wasn't even sure that he wanted to know what the letter said any more; he was tired. But he did want some sort of explanation.

He watched as Snape forced himself to fold the letter casually, and fix Remus with a look which he probably thought was disdainful. Remus wondered if Snape had any idea how obviously strained that look was. "It seems the headmaster wishes me to stay here temporarily -- in order to keep an eye on the both of you."

"What?" His reaction was instinctive. That couldn't have been all the letter said, and it was quite clear Snape didn't like the idea. He evidently had not even been aware of it. There had to be a better rationale than that. "I don't believe it. Why --?"

"No doubt he sees you as an unnecessary risk, unwatched. I have to agree, in light of what you are, Lupin. And Black does have a knack for getting himself -- and others -- into trouble, doesn't he?"

No, there had to be more to it than that. Dumbledore trusted them. He had said as much, himself. He wouldn't pull a stunt like this for such a paltry reason as that. However, Snape probably wasn't going to offer a better one. So they would just have to wait, and hope that things would clear themselves up soon. There was really no point in arguing.

The dog, or rather, the man that had just reappeared behind Remus had other ideas entirely. "I don't believe that load of crap for a second. And if it were true -- why you, of all people?"

The shrug was a slight one. "I know about you. And I alone can keep Lupin sane."

He was talking about the potion. That bit of logic did make sense. Remus needed the Wolfsbane Potion if he wanted to fully retain his sanity during the full moon, and since he could not brew it himself -- and knew of only a very few who could -- he had not been able to acquire it since he left Hogwarts -- and its Potions master.

But Sirius wasn't going to accept that. "He's been managing without your help for some time now!"

Unwilling to stand back and allow this to escalate, Remus spoke up. "It does seem odd that you're here, now, Severus. Didn't you have your own mission?"

That must have hit a nerve. Sirius had told him all about what had happened at the school earlier this year. Judging from the ill-concealed flinch Snape just had, there were at least a few things Remus wasn't supposed to know about. Still, there was no use dancing around subjects. There also wasn't time. He waited for Snape to answer, verbally. "My mission has temporarily been changed."

And not to your liking, right, Severus? Remus only nodded. That was enough for right now. Sirius or he could write to Dumbledore personally, demanding further clarification. There was another matter which had been pressing into the forefront of Remus' mind since breakfast. "Tomorrow night is the full moon, Severus."

This time, Snape's expression was something more like a prolonged wince. There simply wasn't time to make the potion and have it take full effect before then -- even if Snape had all of the ingredients and tools required. Remus inwardly sighed. They plainly hadn't accounted for the moon's cycle, or Snape had been counting on only staying for a short while. Otherwise, he would have come far more prepared for it. Possibly with a gallon of the potion on his person. Snape's hands found themselves occupied with each other, skillfully producing a nervous gesture that Snape probably wasn't even aware of, and he glared at an invisible, floating spot somewhere to his right. "So it is."

Sirius grinned, and Remus felt the briefest urge to scowl at his friend. He really didn't think that provoking Snape would help the situation at all. "Getting a little nervous are we? Think maybe you're not such a fine choice of nanny after all?"

"Sirius . . ." It was a soft, near-warning that Remus hoped would be successful.

It wasn't. "Go on, Snape. We won't tell on you. Nearest town's about four miles south-east from here. You could find yourself a nice little hole to crawl into there, I bet. No big bad werewolves to be scared of . . ."

"Do shut up, Black. Every word you utter only proves how terribly senseless you actually are." The words and the expression were equally laced with contempt. Sirius had no trouble matching it with his own, and Remus felt compelled to intercede.

"Severus, Sirius can keep me . . . in line tomorrow night," at least, in theory. "But I don't have room . . . for all of us."

"S'right. Don't know what Dumbledore could have been thinking. Though you could sleep on the floor . . ." Sirius was grinning again, probably savouring the idea of Snape forced to sleep beneath the kitchen table.

"Perhaps the headmaster took it for granted that the dog," A pointed, withering look to Black, "Could always be put in the yard."

The image of Sirius Black, tied to a tree in the backyard with a rope about his neck and whimpering to be let inside was enough to make Snape chuckle, cruelly. Remus caught both pictures himself, but wasn't nearly as amused by them. "No one's spending the night outside. I can sleep on the floor."

"Don't bother. I have no desire to stay here. I intend to write to the Headmaster this instant, to inform him that his little plan will not be able to go as he hoped." Snape turned, quickly moved into the kitchen with a swish of robes and a glance for quill and parchment.

Remus put a hand on Sirius' shoulder, to keep him from following. "In the top drawer of the desk next to the sink, Severus."

There was no thanks, but the man must have heard, for the mild, scratching sounds of fast writing soon followed. It was then that Remus noticed that the owl was indeed still there, having been waiting for a reply the whole time. Snape finished his note, sent the owl away with it, and returned to his earlier position near the door. He loomed imposingly for a moment and was likely about to make his grand exit when Sirius spoke, irritated at having to wait. "Piss off, then."

For a moment it seemed as though a fight would start. Remus held his breath waiting for it. But then a miracle happened, and Severus Snape took his leave without another word.

It was noon before the second owl of the day came, this time with a letter for Remus. He read it aloud, for Sirius' benefit. "'As Severus has no doubt informed you, things have taken something of a turn for the worse. He is no longer safe at this time in the wizarding world-'"

"I knew Snape's excuse for why he was here was bullshit."

Remus gave Sirius a look before continuing. "'I believe it best, due to the present circumstances, if he stays with you and Sirius for the time being. It would be the last place anyone would expect to find him-'"

"That's for damn sure." Sirius added tartly, but then lifted his hands in a surrendering gesture, allowing Remus to continue.

"'And it would give the three of you ample opportunity to lay aside your differences." Knowing that something was coming, he paused, but all Sirius did this time was snort. "I have taken the liberty of having some of his belongings sent to you. They should arrive by nightfall. This arrangement should be mutually beneficial, as you well know, and I can assure you that it will not be for long. Lie low until I send for you -- I expect that you will all be returning to Hogwarts before the year is out, if all goes as planned. Albus Dumbledore.' There it is, then."

"Well, he's already gone. Little we can do but forward his 'belongings' on to him." Sirius said in a rather nonchalant way.

"I wonder what it means . . . he isn't safe. Is he being hunted?"

"Probably. He isn't exactly the most likeable sort, is he? Doesn't matter anyway. I couldn't care less about what sort of trouble Severus Snape got himself into. If it were up to me, I'd see the nasty bugger in Azkaban before I helped him out of a fix."

Remus didn't think that Sirius meant that, but he wasn't sure enough to voice the doubt. He decided to use another argument, instead. "Albus wants us to work together, Sirius. I think he's right. We'll do no good bickering amongst ourselves."

During the contemplative silence which followed, Remus put away the letter and got his coat. He was almost out the door when Sirius reacted. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to find him. Reason with him." If that were possible.

"You said yourself we've got no room to put him anyway."

"We can put him in the bedroom. I'll sleep on the floor. I've slept on floors before in my life." He didn't want to press the issue anymore. He just wanted to get this ordeal over with. Dumbledore had promised that it wouldn't be for long, and Remus was fairly certain that they could take the headmaster at his word.

He hadn't counted on Sirius having a final ace up his sleeve. "Maybe it should at least wait until after tomorrow night."

That was a very worthy point to make. Padfoot was able to keep Remus out of trouble while in the woods each month, away from any of the farms or the town. But if Severus were here, in this house, it wasn't a guarantee that he would be safe. It wasn't even a guarantee that Sirius would try to ensure his safety, as he had a marked dislike for Snape and a history for having a . . . somewhat dangerous sense of humour. Remus didn't like to think that Sirius would actually allow the werewolf to get into the house and attack the Potions master, but he wasn't sure he wanted to leave it entirely up to chance, either. Perhaps if he made it clear exactly how important this was, he could make his friend dispel the bad blood for one night. "I trust you, Padfoot. You won't let me get at him."

"I won't?"

"No," Remus suddenly felt a wave of fatigue wash over him, and he let it seep into his voice in the hopes of appealing to his friend's compassionate streak. "You won't. I know you won't."

It worked. Black had the good grace to look sheepish for a split-second and nodded. "You're right. Well then, let's go get the bastard. We'll probably have to spend all day just finding him . . ."

The information in Dumbledore's letter, what little of it there was, must have been truth; Snape had to have been in danger. Otherwise, he would never deign to stay with Muggles. Instead of disapparating, as they had feared he would, he had actually walked to the town and was in the process of checking into the nearest inn when they arrived. The innkeeper was rather reluctant to let the odd man stay at her establishment, and the scene which greeted Remus brought the slightest smile to his face. Poor Severus, he thought, probably didn't have much experience with Muggles at all, otherwise he'd have known how much importance they place on appearances. With his black robes and somewhat unkempt hair, Snape likely seemed like a complete alien to the poor old woman at the desk. And an irritable one to boot.

"Sir, going to have to ask you to leave your dog outside. This is a place of business, this is."

Remus looked at the man who had spoken; the doorman. He offered an amiable smile and led Sirius back outside. "Now, Padfoot. Wait here for me, like a good boy. I'll be just a moment."

The dog gave him a small whine in return, and seemed to roll its eyes. Remus chuckled, and stepped back into the inn. "There you are, cousin. We've been looking for you!"

Both Severus and the hostess were staring at him openly. He knew the woman; once or twice a month in the cold season he came by to help her with a few outdoor chores about the establishment -- Angie, he seemed to remember, was her name. And the doorman was her husband of twenty-three years, though his name wasn't so easily come by. Carl sounded right. Carter, maybe? Clayton? It didn't matter. "Mrs. Lewiston, I see you've found my cousin. He's come to visit me for a few days -- from out of town."

That the stranger was from out of town was really more than obvious, but the husband and wife both relaxed a bit now that his presence was explained. She even smiled, "Ah, so that's it. Why didn't you say so in the first place, Mr . . . Smith? Mr. Lupin comes by now and again to help clear the gutters. Andy's not much for it anymore. Not since the arthritis set in, in any case. We could've pointed you to his place, easy enough."

The man's name was Andy, that's right. Remus smiled, inwardly correcting himself. The woman was Coral, then. "Can't blame the man for not wanting to jaunt all the way out there this late in the day. But we were getting worried!"

"Taken up with someone, then, Mr. Lupin?" The question was a little eager; Remus had caused very little gossip about town, and that was a bit unsettling. Any news about him was sure to be welcomed.

"I got myself a dog, Coral. He's outside. Tried coming in with me."

The look of disappointment she gave was comical, but her husband didn't seem to care one way or the other. He just snorted. "Big dog. Taken him hunting yet?"

"I'm meaning to." Remus was trying to read Snape's expression. The man was silent, and completely guarded.

"Dog like that's begging to be let out in the woods."

"He'll get his chance. Do you have any bags, cousin?" Remus had no idea what first name Severus would have given the woman, if any, so he had to keep addressing the relationship. He hoped it sounded more natural than it felt, but he had no way to be sure.

"No . . ." Severus finally resigned himself to play along. At least until they could to talk without an audience. "No, 'cousin,' I do not. I suspect that they are coming, however."

"Right. Well, come on then. We want to get home before we lose our daylight! Lovely seeing you again, Coral, Andy. I'll probably be by again come winter." He waved to the two, quite cheerily, and opened the door for Severus. Neither spoke until it had been shut behind them. "Good to see you again, Cousin."

"That was dangerous, Lupin. You called attention to us . . ."

"You were calling attention to yourself. Going into town dressed like that . . . and do you even have any Muggle money on you? I'm just glad they didn't ask where you were from, Mr 'Smith.' You wouldn't last a day with these people. Better if you just come back and stay with Padfoot and me."

"I think not."

Remus shook his head, slightly exasperated. "Let's not fight about it. We don't have much of a choice, after all. Dumbledore wants us to lay things aside and stay out of sight for a while. We can't do that if you're in town scaring the locals. Padfoot promises to behave . . . Don't you?"

The dog whimpered, seemed to think it over, but wagged its tail after a minute. Snape wasn't about to be reassured. "If you expect me to take the word of a dog, Lupin, you are in great error. I would much rather take my chances with the Muggles . . ."

Sirius began to growl. Remus was just about fed up with them both. "Nevertheless, we're calling a truce. Your things will be at my door by nightfall, Severus. And if you want to be there to collect them, we should start moving now."

Since he had just played off being Remus' cousin to the only innkeeper within a ten mile radius, Snape had little choice but to go with them. The walk back was enveloped with a kind of oppressing stillness that was far from pleasant. Still, it could have been worse. They did reach the cabin before nightfall, and Remus decided to put tea on for the three of them while they waited for someone to break the tension. At least, Remus assumed that the other two were waiting for that as well.

Unwilling to stand it for any longer, he finally volunteered. "I thought perhaps you could take the bedroom, Severus. Sirius and I can sleep out here."

He rubbed his temples, waiting for what was sure to be an acidic reply, but only one of Snape's more common looks of distaste passed across the sallow face. "Fine."

"Careful, Snape. Someone would mistake you for an agreeable person." Sirius was in the same position he had been sitting in earlier that day; feet casually propped up on the chair across from him. With Severus seated as well, Remus was happy to note, all of the kitchen chairs were being used.

"You do not wish to provoke me, Black."

"Don't I?" The initial grin was feral, but it dissolved into a chuckle which caused the raised hairs on the back of Remus' neck to settle back into place. "Dumbledore's right. We need to call a truce. So . . . Truce."

Snape neither agreed nor disagreed. He simply sat, teacup in hand, glowering at nothing in particular. However, it was not an attack. It might even have been tolerance, or as close to it as Snape could get. Remus wasn't about to complain. "Thank you, Sirius. Er . . . What has been happening, Severus? We don't have many ways of getting news out here . . ."

"Perhaps there is a good reason to keep you uninformed, Lupin. Far be it for me to impart information that is not for your ears."

"We're on the same side, Severus." Though, admittedly, they didn't exactly feel as though they were. Maybe by the time this was all over, they would. But at the present that seemed to be far too much to hope for.

Remus made few other attempts at conversation, all of which failed. Luckily, the arrival of Snape's belongings made for some distraction. The question of where to put everything did pose something of a problem for a while, but not an insoluble one. Potion-related items -- including a large, cherished cauldron -- were put in the kitchen. The modest trunk of clothes found a home in the bedroom. There was little else, and nothing that could not be stored in one of those two rooms. Remus made a bed for himself on the floor near the couch out of extra blankets and a spare pillow.

As soon as it was feasible, Snape reclused in the bedroom. He did not exchange so much as a goodnight with either of the two other men before retiring.

Sirius Black wasted absolutely no time to comment; he did so the moment he was settled for the night on the couch. "Well, this is awkward."

"It could be worse, Sirius."

"Mm. Could be Voldemort in the bedroom."

Remus chuckled a bit. "He's not possibly as bad as all that."

"Nn." There were a few soft noises as Sirius shifted. "Maybe. Still a slimy, greasy git. I can't pretend to like him, Remus."

"No one's asking you to. Just . . . be human, if you can't be civil. If what you've said is true, he's likely done a lot for our side -- at the risk of his own life, judging from the present circumstances."

The other man scoffed. "You sound like a bleeding admirer."

"I'm not. I just . . . believe in second chances. And I show respect when it's deserved."

"Hmph." Remus could hear the shifting noises again; Sirius must be turning away from the conversation.

"Why do you hate him so much, Sirius?"

The somewhat evasive reply was spoken to the back of the sofa, giving proof that Sirius had indeed turned away. "Why does he hate us?"

"He has his reasons, and that's not an answer."

". . . I don't know. He's hateable. Antagonising. Condescending, insulting, queer . . . I have plenty of my own reasons." And he evidently wasn't in the mood to go into details right now.

"Well, you have to get over them."

There was a pause long enough to lead Remus into thinking that maybe his friend had fallen asleep, before the inevitable question was asked. "Do you like him, Remus?"

It was a perfectly fair question, and Remus gave it an honest answer. "Not really. He isn't likeable. I don't think he even wants to be liked. But I don't hate him."

"You don't hate." He could tell that Sirius was smiling; he didn't need to be able to see it.

"I wouldn't be so sure. I hated you . . . for a while." And it had almost killed him to do so. Remus didn't want to hate. He didn't need to darken his soul with that particular emotion. "Anyway, there's no real reason for any of us to hate each other. And a lot of good, compelling reasons not to. So we need to try."

"I'll try. If he does. But I imagine you'll have trouble convincing him."

It would a whole lot easier if you hadn't nearly gotten him killed when we were children, Remus thought but would not allow himself to say. There was no use in dredging up the past to be rehashed over and over again. "Goodnight, Sirius."

"Goodnight, Moony." Another shift in the dark, and then silence. It wasn't long before both of them were fast asleep.

It was the smell that woke him. A terrible and familiar smell that came very close to making him reel when he stood up from his makeshift bed the next morning.

"Gah . . .who's making breakfast?" Sirius shook his head in disgust and, not daring to brave the kitchen, he forced himself off the sofa and into the bathroom. Running water could be heard moments later from that part of the house.

Remus spent a little time composing himself against the olfactory onslaught before entering the kitchen. "Severus . . . ?"

The glare was standard, and expected. But Remus could see that there was something else, the faintest tremor in the hand stirring the cauldron, the strained, firm set to the jawline . . . There was apprehension there, woefully apparent even without the fact that Snape had awakened himself up before the sun in order to brew the Wolfsbane potion. Remus continued, gently. "I thought it was too late for that . . ."

"If I make it sufficiently potent . . . if you take enough of it . . . there should be some affect." In other words, it was worth a try. Snape must be frightened indeed, to waste so many of his ingredients on a long shot. They both knew very well that the potion was supposed to be taken at least three days before the full moon, and a minimum of once a day every day up to it, in order to have the desired results.

Still, Snape's logic was not entirely faulty. Perhaps the potion would help Remus retain something of his sanity tonight -- if he takes it enough of it, and if it is quite strong. "How long will it take, Severus?"

"Six more hours." Snape stared intensely at the thick, boiling liquid, as though he could speed up the process by sheer will. Remus wouldn't be very surprised if that were true; he would be motivated to hurry under that scrutiny, if he were the potion. He watched as Snape stirred for a while, occasionally adding something to the cauldron from one of his many jars. A feeling of being completely useless began to build, until Remus had to ask, "Can I help?"

Snape's head lifted suddenly, as though he were startled by the question. His brow furrowed in a new kind of scrutiny -- this time of Remus. "No. I have done what needs to be done for now. It needs to sit."

Remus nodded. "In case it . . . doesn't work . . . Sirius can keep me in the woods tonight. And you should be safe here. There's a lock on the bedroom door . . ."

"Ah, now, Moony. You know you could easily break down that door. Though I suppose we could spell it so that it can't break . . . Still, there's the back window. Have to spell that, too. Or Snape could hide himself in the closet . . ." Sirius sat down in the chair farthest from the bubbling cauldron and practically beamed at Snape. "Never think to find him in there."

"What are you on about now, Black?"

"Just kidding around, Snape. Just kidding around." Sirius ignored the other man's bristling and turned his attention to Remus. "Are we having breakfast?"

Remus, ever mindful of the cauldron, set about fixing a meal for the three of them. Snape covered the potion and slipped out of the room, without so much as a scathing remark for either of them, or the lodgings. Remus was pleased that at least one of them was being civil. Sirius kept up his semblance of cheer, happily picking on Snape whenever he was in the room, but keeping his remarks light. Remus lost count of the times he was sure a fight would break, that Sirius said something which couldn't possibly be allowed to slide by, and Snape would just glare, or wave it off with a word or two.

When the potion was deemed finish by the Potions master, Remus was called upon to drink it. Potency, he decided, would probably not be a problem -- the potion was far stronger than he remembered it being. He could not drink it all at once, even if he wanted to, because his system would suffer damage from such an overdose. Still, he felt he must have taken in at least a gallon of the sickening elixir throughout the course of the day. It was definitely one of the more trying experiences of his life. Having extracted a final promise from Sirius to make sure nothing happened, Remus stripped himself of clothing and opened the front door. If the potion worked, he could safely stay in the cabin. If not, Sirius would herd him outside, where he would not be able to destroy his own furniture. Sirius was watching from the doorway between the two rooms, and Snape was presumably behind him in the kitchen. Remus had time for a disapproving thought -- Severus shouldn't be in the kitchen. He should be in the bedroom, where it was safer. Then the transformation hit him.

It was a frenzied haze of anguish and confusion . . . the cabin spun wildly about him, and he clung to the floorboards to keep from being tossed about. Something brushed by his face; whether it was imaginary or real he wasn't sure, and he may have snapped at it. He may not have. His body lurched with the transformation, and the potion was waging war with the beast inside of him. There was little for him to do but not fall away from the floor, keep his head down and quiver until the battle was over . . . Later he would remember nothing but the intense pain, and the feel of the world fading to black.

He was first aware of breathing. Pulling in one, slow, ragged gasp of air after another. He'd forgotten what a chore it was . . . particularly when some wise guy had snuck in during the night at some point to replace all of the air in the room with clay. Even after the clay began to feel more like air in his lungs, Remus didn't want to open his eyes. The light seeping through his closed lids was blinding enough, and his headache was already quite unmerciful -- it didn't need the help. Yet, eventually it would have to come down to a choice between opening his eyes and spending the rest of his life where he was. So far, the eyes had always opened in the end. This month didn't prove itself to be different than the others in that respect. After the prerequisite squinting, Remus realised the room was actually quite dim. The curtains were drawn tight, and what little dappled light there was came from the barely-open kitchen door. He had no way of knowing what time it was, but it still felt like morning.

Mastering the awesome feat of sitting up was his next step. This always took some time to do, but he felt impatient this time around. It was a while before he could even remembered why -- he had no idea what happened last night. Had the potion worked? Were Severus and Sirius safe? Was the house intact? The only thing he knew for sure was that he was still indoors, and the only way he could start answering the other big questions was to sit up and have a look around. Impatience, he felt, was duly justified in this case. Having accomplished the act of sitting on his fourth try, Remus was able to get at least one answer. The house was still standing. The living room floor would need to be replaced, since it appeared to have been on the losing end of a fight with an industrial plow. He felt a moment's pity for the innocent floor, before he remembered that there had been two very alive, flesh and blood people who had likewise been vulnerable to his mood last night. If he had caused this much injury to the flooring, he hated to think what might have happened to either of them. A long, rigorous look at the debris revealed no tell-tale stains of blood, so Remus allowed himself a breath or two in relief. Standing, in his current condition, seemed next to impossible. But he had no options; he had to know if everyone was all right. Gritting his teeth against the agony sure to come, he gripped the back of the sofa with as much strength as he could muster for leverage and forced himself to -- slowly -- turn in place in order to lower his bare feet to the ragged floor. Ignoring the splinters burrowing into his skin, the throbbing headache, and the nauseating dizziness which overwhelmed him the moment he began to move, Remus Lupin staggered across his living room.

Later, if asked why he went to the bedroom instead of the kitchen, Remus would have said it was because the light hurt his eyes. The truth of the matter was he had no idea why -- his main worry had been keeping himself upright, and at the time the direction in which he moved was completely trivial. Pushing his way past the bedroom door, Remus momentarily forgot his worries when he saw the bed. He was exhausted, pained . . . and it was instantly the most inviting thing he'd ever seen in his life. His next few steps, taken with the intent of surrendering to the siren-song of his bed, were the most painful ones he'd taken thus far -- and he almost didn't see the butterfly on his pillow because of them.

Remus was somewhat taken aback. What was a butterfly doing on his pillow? He peered at it, all suffering momentarily silenced so that he could puzzle over this unexpected turn. After a few vision-clearing blinks, he realised that it was no butterfly. It took a few more to tell him exactly what it was, and he mouthed "Severus?" twice before realising his voice was elsewhere.

That Snape was sleeping peacefully on his pillow was a novel enough sight, that the man was perhaps five inches tall, naked, and sporting butterfly wings was mind-boggling. It had to be Sirius Black's doing, of course. And that was a strong indicator that Sirius was in good health, probably still laughing over the joke.

It really was a terrible joke, and Snape would no doubt be furious about it, but Remus was too happy to see him alive and well to care about that now. He lay himself down next to the pillow, being very, very careful not to jostle the bed's other occupant as he settled. Even with wooden shards in his feet and an excruciating headache it was bliss. When he awoke again that evening he would have a vague recollection of having gently brushed the back of a finger over the fairy's wings before slipping once again into unconsciousness.

Someone was staring at him. Remus could feel the eyes on him. However, he could also smell the chicken broth, so he wasn't about to be miffed by a gaze. The sound he produced came primarily from his stomach and deep in his throat, but it was enough to inspire whoever had the soup to place a spoon of it to his lips.

The soft chuckle answered the question of who it was. "You had me worried, there, Moony. But you managed to get yourself into bed this time. I'm impressed!"

There were a lot of questions that Remus wanted answered, but for now he had to settle for a groan and more soup. Initially, his throat screamed against the invasion of warm liquid, but after the first few spoonfuls it began to have a soothing influence. His empty stomach didn't complain at all. The bowl was nearly empty by the time Remus opened his eyes. Not surprisingly, the pillow beside him was vacant. It was time to see if he could get his mouth to form actual words. "S . . . eve . . ."

Good enough. "Snape was there, right. But when I came in to check up on you he took off like a bat outta hell. None too happy with me, I reckon. He'll have to show himself eventually if he wants to be turned back."

Sirius was obviously delighted with himself about the whole situation. Remus felt a pang of disapproval, and hoped that it showed on his face. If he had been dangerous last night, and if the state of the floor was anything to go by he probably had been, then Sirius might have saved Snape's life by transfiguring him into something nonhuman -- something the werewolf wouldn't attack. That was quick thinking, and even praiseworthy; however, picking such a humiliating form wasn't going to do much for helping their situation. What made it infinitely worse was that it was the same humiliating form Sirius had picked for Snape so many years ago. Remus had heard all about that incident from his two friends. He had even laughed about it with them at the time. It was little wonder why Severus had hated them all so much back then, and now, thanks to Sirius Black's questionable sense of humor, that hatred would be back full-force. Lovely. "F. . . find . . . him . . . "

"I'm sure he won't go far. Like I said, he'll want to be turned back, so he'll have to turn up sometime."

Remus forced his eyes to narrow. He doubted he looked at all threatening, considering he could barely move, but the expression might get his point across. ". . . ap . . . apologise . . . Sirius."

His friend's back straightened, and the eyebrows raised a bit in honest astonishment. "Whatever for? Saving his life? All right. Snape, where-ever you are, I'm sorry I saved your life, you insufferable git." The sentence was finished with a grin.

"Sirius." If only he weren't so tired. He should at least be able to sound as annoyed as he was, but all that came out was a weak, pleading sound trying to masquerade as his voice. "Not . . . funny."

Sirius gave Remus a long look, and Remus studied the other man's face in turn. He watched as friendship and perhaps sympathy won out over stubborn pride. It wasn't quite remorse, but it would do for now. Sirius stood up, and his voice rose to a level that was loud enough to carry throughout the cabin while still being well under a shout. "Snape, I'm . . . sorry. You can come out of hiding. Let me put things right again."

Nothing happened, and Sirius gave Remus an expression which plainly said, "Well, I tried." He had, and Remus was grateful for the attempt. There was little else to do until Snape decided to reappear. Sirius fed Remus the rest of the soup, and they sat together for a while before Sirius went back into the kitchen to wash up. During this time Remus noticed that his feet had been de-splintered and wrapped up. He smiled apologetically at them. They had every right to be irate about their mistreatment, and he doubted he'd be running any marathons anytime soon. He let his gaze wander around the small room. Its familiarity and orderliness were comforting. This room had not been changed much by its new resident. Snape's closed trunk was the only thing that was out of place, tucked into its corner. Well, that and the fairy glowering at him from the top of the old bookshelf. Remus was startled immediately out of his reverie. So that's where Severus had been hiding. Half-hidden beside the only winter hat Remus owned -- and what that was doing on the bookshelf was anyone's guess -- the fairy was hardly noticeable at all. "Severus . . ."

There was no movement from the bookshelf. But Remus knew Snape had heard him. He sighed, wishing he could solve everything, and knowing that was highly unlikely. "I'm . . . sorry about Sirius. He thought he was being funny -- he wasn't. I really don't think he meant any harm by it."

There was indignant flutter that Remus took to be a fairy version of "hmph." He almost smiled, but held it in check, knowing that it would be misread and would only cause more trouble. He swallowed, and found that the flow of words was coming more easily now. He must be regaining some of his strength. "Look . . . I'll be the first to admit that Sirius can get . . . get carried away with his . . . practical jokes. Sometimes he doesn't think about how others will feel . . . Back then, we all made that mistake to some degree. You have every right to be furious about this . . . I'm . . . not happy about it, myself . . . but we need to get past it, now . . . please . . . come down . . . so that we can set things right. Turn you back."

A minute passed. And then two. Remus found that he was actually holding his breath, willing Snape to move. He forced himself to resume breathing, and after the third minute passed he turned on his side to look at the door, instead, wondering when Sirius would come back. There was the sound of delicate wings in flight, and when Remus carefully turned back around he found that Severus was again on the pillow; standing, and clutching his wings prudently around him with a scowl. Allowing a smile, but forcing the desire to laugh back where it came from, Remus nodded at the man. "Thank you, Severus."

Biting back a groan, Remus shifted to sit up a bit. He almost missed the look of near-concern which passed over Snape's face completely, but he managed to catch it just in time. "I'm all right. Tired, mostly. It probably looks more terrible than it is . . . I . . . don't remember anything about last night. So I'm going to need you and Sirius to fill me in . . . I was terrified that I might have hurt one of you . . . both of you . . ."

The sound of the door opening stopped him from saying more. Snape's expression was as guarded as ever, so Remus turned his head towards Sirius, who spoke the second he was back inside the room. "Looked all over the kitchen, couldn't find -- oh. There he is."

"He was on the bookshelf. You can't blame him for being angry with you, Sirius. I would be, too." Remus was, still, a little bit. But now that it was clear everyone was all right, he was having a hard time not seeing the humor in all of it. "Maybe you should turn him back."

"Maybe you're right. He makes an ugly fairy." Sirius grinned. "But how do we know he isn't going to poison the both of us if we do turn him back?"

"Not insulting him might be a good start." Remus suggested, gently. "We'll just have to chance it, Sirius. Now, turn him back, before he decides to murder you on principle."

Sirius, who must have planned on this -- as he already had Remus' wand in his hand, did just that. Within moments, the fairy was replaced by a very fierce-looking Potions master in black robes, perched next to where Remus lay on the bed like a giant vulture. "Snape, I--"

"I don't really care to hear anything you might have to say, Black."

"All right, then." It was some sort of face-off, or a staring contest between the two. Remus spent the time dividing his attention between them. Black had been right -- Snape had indeed made for an unattractive fairy. But looming as he was on the bed he seemed rather impressive-looking. Still not what anyone would find attractive, but impressive nonetheless. And a little unnerving at such a close range. Remus suddenly had the most ridiculous urge to draw the blankets up to his throat; cover himself completely even though he wasn't the one being sized up. Instead, he looked at Sirius.

Sirius looked roguish. This was partly because of his posture -- a defiant, cocky stance -- and partly because he needed a haircut. They could both of them use haircuts -- but he couldn't imagine Snape without a few locks of hair at least partially in his face, if not obscuring it almost completely. Not that he was in the habit of forming mental pictures of Snape. The man must keep his hair that length for a reason. Perhaps it was simply so that his face had something to hide behind. Nevertheless, Remus was sure that a clean-cut Snape just wouldn't be Snape. Sirius Black was himself whatever his hair looked like. His personality transcended style. True, when he had first escaped from prison he had seemed every bit the villain, but his intention at the time had been homicidal, so the appearance was fitting for the time. Remus was unceremoniously jarred off of that train of thought when a voice cut through the silence. No one was more surprised than he was to discover it was his own. "Well . . . "

"You're probably tired, Moony. We should let you rest." Sirius was staring at Snape, wordlessly ordering him to get off of the bed and out of the room.

Remus actually thought that was a good idea, but didn't want to risk their going off to brawl in the kitchen. "I'm all right. Maybe we should talk . . ."

"I really doubt any of us has anything of value to say, Lupin." Snape began to gingerly step over Lupin to get down off of the bed.

Sirius grinned triumphantly, as though he'd won a minor battle. He never once took his eyes off of Snape. "Least of all you, I'd wager."

"I would like to know what happened last night. It'd be nice to have both of you catch me up."

Surprisingly, it was Snape who took up the narrative. "The potion was of sufficient potency, but because you were not taking it before yesterday, it did not have time to overcome the onslaught of your more . . . beastial . . . instincts entirely. They were held at bay -- you did not attack anything that did not come within three feet of you -- but you were obviously suffering from the inner turmoil. We will know not to repeat the mistake in the future."

"We'd better." Remus blinked at the growl -- which had come from the general direction of Sirius. He didn't think Sirius had any right to be bitter towards Snape about the potion -- there was no way any of them could have known what would happen if it was taken like that. They had all agreed it was worth a try, and Snape himself had just admitted that it had been a mistake. There was nothing else to be said on the matter.

Nothing, that is, except . . . "How do you know what my . . . range . . . of attack was? Did something come within three feet of me, Severus?"

That question earned a smirk from Sirius. "He did."

"I attacked you, Severus?" That would explain why Sirius felt the need to transfigure Snape, even though the potion had kept Remus checked. Suddenly Remus felt terrible for not taking more precautions. What if Snape had been bitten?

"I was not . . . human . . . when you did. I was able to get away quickly enough." Snape's eyes were on Sirius the entire time he spoke, and the anger was palpable, even if the voice was kept low. "Much to Black's disappointment, I'm sure."

Sirius only met the look with one of his own, coupled with an almost boyish grin. Remus closed his eyes for a moment, before asking slowly, "Sirius, why did you transfigure Severus -- if I wasn't attacking him beforehand?"

Opening his eyes only allowed him to watch Sirius shrug his shoulders. "He looked scared. Thought I'd reassure him. Besides, it's not like it'd hurt him to let his true self show now and again."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're implying, Black." The soft resonance of Snape's voice was deathly, and Remus hoped Sirius would catch that.

It was a futile hope, as Sirius was eager to elaborate. "That you're nothing but a greasy queer. We've known it for years, Snape. I didn't think you'd fancy Remus after what happened . . . you seemed scared enough of him . . . but that didn't stop you from slithering up next to him today while he was asleep and vulnerable, did it?"

Whatever Snape had been expecting to come out of Sirius' mouth, it wasn't that. The Potions master looked utterly baffled. "What are you talking about, Black?"

Remus was trying to make sense of it, himself. Sirius thought that Severus fancied him? When had this come about? "Sirius, Severus was sleeping in here when I came in. I got into bed without waking him. He probably had no idea I was even there until he woke up."

That information caught Sirius offguard a little. Still, he wasn't going to be entirely put off by it. "That doesn't change the fact that Snape was lusting after you every second during school . . ."

"I most certainly was NOT!" Severus was flustered and outraged by the accusation. Remus really couldn't blame him for that. "What on earth could have made you this delusional?"

"You were constantly staring at him!"

"You're insane." Snape visibly pulled himself together, overcoming his shock. "And if you truly cannot tell a look of . . . desire . . . from one of loathing, you are well beyond anyone's help, Black. I'm sure that they can find a suitable room for you at St. Mungo's . . ."

Remus wondered how Sirius could have made such an error. During school they had constantly been exchanging looks with the Slytherins -- including Snape. And Severus had been overly suspicious even back then; it had been a rarity if Snape wasn't glaring over at James Potter's little Gryffindor gang. Had Sirius really believed, all this time, that Severus had been looking at them because he was smitten? With Remus? It seemed that was the case. It would almost have been laughable, had Sirius not looked so grim about it. And then Remus had a thought -- if Sirius were this upset about this imaginary infatuation now, how upset had he been when he had come up with the thought? Mad enough to attempt murder? Remus prayed he was wrong about that. "Sirius, is this why you told Severus how to get to the Shrieking Shack?"

The man's gaze shifted to the floor briefly, answering the question for him. "That was years ago, Moony. Just a prank. I don't remember why I did it."

"Oh, how delightful. I knew you were deviant, Black, but I had no idea how deep it went. Willing to kill a person over a touch of jealousy, I see. How lovely. Well, don't let me stand in the way of true love!" Severus pushed past Sirius and left the room without another word.

Remus tilted his head, Snape had made a curious point. "Were you jealous, Sirius?"

"No! I . . . no. I cared about you. Not quite in that way, mind, but I did care. Do care. I just . . . wanted to get the idea out of his head. I was worried he'd act on it, and I wasn't about to let him."

"The idea might never have really been in his head, Sirius."

"Oh, because he says so now? I don't believe him for a minute. He's not above lies, dirty Slytherin."

Remus chuckled. "We've done our share of fast-talking, Padfoot. It's not exclusively a Slytherin trait. I really can't believe you'd go to such lengths, though . . ."

"Okay. I was young and stupid. Blame it on that. I hated him. I still hate him. But I'm not going to kill him, or get him killed. Might not stick my neck out for him, if it comes down to it, but I'm not a bad person. You know that."

"I know that. And this explains some things." Not everything, by far, but at least a few questions have been answered. "Try to keep from turning him into anything, too. At least for the rest of tonight. I'd like to get some sleep, and having the two of you battle it out in the other room probably won't help me any."

Sirius smiled, warmly. "Sure, sure. I fixed your floor by the way."

"Thank you, Padfoot. Very nice of you." Remus was already closing his eyes; he didn't see Sirius leave the room, but he heard the door close softly. Sleep didn't claim him straightaway. There was too much new information to process for him to allow it. He wasn't sure if he believed it all, but it was worth thinking about. He found himself meticulously going over his past, looking for the clues which had brought Sirius to his conclusion. Putting aside Snape's vehement denial for now, Remus supposed there was some logic backing the accusation. As far as he knew, Severus had never even had a relationship during school. At least, none that he was very open about. Nor had Remus heard any rumors of a past affair while he was teaching alongside the man. Of course, Severus did have a tendency to be secretive -- all aspects of his private life were zealously shrouded. So Remus had no evidence to suggest, one way or another, where Snape's sexual orientation might lie. As far as a past history of staring went . . . well, Remus had always thought Severus had been glaring at James or Sirius; he never once entertained the notion that Snape was gazing longingly at him. The few times they'd caught each other's eye, it had resulted in mutual frowns, not fireworks. Yet, it was flattering even that the idea had crossed someone's mind. Remus didn't consider himself to be all that desirable. And at that time he had been overshadowed by Sirius Black and James Potter. Then again, Severus would probably have been attracted to someone quieter, a little less . . . extroverted. Remus shook his head at himself. There was no proof that Snape had ever been interested in a relationship with anyone, certainly not with another boy, and definitely not with a Gryffindor werewolf who had barely exchanged more than three words with him at a time while they were children, and not much more than that when they were adults. He had no idea why he was even dwelling on it.

Well, aside from the fact that it was something to think about. And it might even be true. There was at least a slight chance of it, even when Snape's denial was taken into account. Did he want it to be true? Remus wasn't sure. He supposed not, since he didn't think he was attracted to Severus Snape in the least, and since it would bring about complications to a situation which was already complicated enough. That decided, Remus was able to get some sleep.

He awoke, hours later, to the sound of voices. His first order of business was getting out of bed, and dressing, both of which he did before trying to decide whether the voices were angry or not. They were speaking in normal tones, which was a good sign. He ran a hand through his hair and stepped boldly out of his bedroom to find Severus Snape and Sirius Black sitting in the same room together, not fighting. Severus was in the armchair, reading a thick book Remus couldn't recognise. Sirius was sprawled on the couch with the newspaper. Remus couldn't have been more astounded if they had been chatting away with one another like long-lost friends. He cleared his throat. ". . . I heard voices."

"Black seems to feel that it his duty to occasionally disturb what would otherwise be a serene moment with one of his blatantly ignorant comments." Sirius only snorted in response.

Remus smiled, relieved that they were getting along even this well. Since his services as peacekeeper weren't required, he decided to make use of the bathroom while it was unoccupied. Thirty-seven minutes later, having taken a very revitalising shower, he found himself in the kitchen finishing off the last of the chicken broth. All was silent from the other room, and when he did return it was only to find that Severus had retreated back to the bedroom in order to once again take up solitude. Someone had turned one of his spare blankets into a feather mattress while he had been eating, so he was spared a night on the newly-restored floor. Sirius was already asleep on the couch, so couldn't be questioned about it. Remus looked over the newspaper Sirius had been reading earlier, before once again retiring. However, he had a difficult time keeping his mind on the articles. It kept wanting to go back to its questions. Was it true? Did it matter? No, it wasn't. Severus had said as much himself. And no, it really didn't, especially if no one wanted it to be true. They all agreed on that, at least. When he did get to sleep again, he dreamed about brushing over soft, delicate fairy wings with the back of his finger, among other things.