Remus Lupin was having one of those mornings. To be perfectly honest, he was having one of those weeks, months, and year – but he tried to take things day by day. As a werewolf, he absolutely had to, in order to stay what passed for sane at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; although Hogwarts, headed as it was by Dumbledore, and staffed as it was by Snape and Trelawney and himself, admittedly had a very unique definition of sane.His first week of teaching at Hogwarts three years ago had been idyllic. He had been hired for a real job for the first time in his adult life, and at Britain’s primary – well, only, but therefore primary – magical school, no less. And for Defense! Yes, it was rather well-known that Dumbledore had a great deal of trouble finding Defense Professors and an even harder time keeping them, but the truth was that a job teaching Defense had seemed like a sort of dream come true, especially because it would give him the opportunity to meet James and Lily’s only son. His classes had gone unbelievably smoothly – so unexpected, no matter how many hours he’d spent in preparation – and he was truly beginning to believe that he could build a life for himself at Hogwarts when all the business with Sirius and Snape melted it all away.

He hadn’t been all that upset because, to be honest, it had been far too perfect to last.

When Dumbledore approached Lupin to re-hire him for the position, he had demurred, stating in no uncertain terms that no parent should want a Dark creature for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Dumbledore, subtle old wizard that he was, had replied by dumping a full three-dozen letters on his desk from parents demanding to know why Remus had been dismissed, and begging for his return. Little Suzie has learned so much in your class, she goes on and on about you, and she adores you so! they gushed, and Lupin was swayed. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he kept them all, tied together with a little ribbon in his bottom desk drawer, in a small box marked ‘receipts’.

His first week of teaching this year had been another thing altogether. On the very first day Harry had done the unthinkable and cast Imperius on a classmate, as if to say to Lupin, d’you see how much you’ve missed? A thrill of guilt had run through Remus, despite having nothing to do with Harry’s actions; he should have been keeping a better eye on the boy. Sirius would have been disappointed with him. Then Harry persisted in being a rather creepy version of himself during the discussion about Unforgivables in Lupin’s office.

Shortly thereafter, Remus punched someone for the very first time. It had been strange, and satisfying, and, scarily enough, he believed it had earned him a friend. If he’d known the way to befriend Severus Snape was to hit him, he might have done it quite some time ago, perhaps when they were in school. As well as it had turned out in the end, the entire business had been incredibly humiliating for him.

Then Harry had become lost in the Chamber of Secrets, and who but the boy whom he cast the Unforgivable upon to drag Harry out of that mess? Remus wasn’t certain which was the more astonishing truth: that he and Snape were beginning to see eye-to-eye occasionally, or at least catch one another’s eye without Snape’s trademark sneer making an appearance – or that Harry and Draco Malfoy were playing with a tentative friendship. Last evening, he’d actually seen Draco, Harry, Hermione and Ron all engaged in conversation and caught himself goggling. Snape did sneer at that, but Remus noted that Minerva McGonagall had her eye on the quartet as well.

Now Remus was sitting at breakfast and staring at the Ministry seal on the envelope in his hands. Surely – surely this week could not go any farther downhill? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an owl swoop down to Snape as well, and used the distraction to open his own letter and begin to read:

It has come to the Ministry’s attention that you are in the employ of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the capacity of a(n) Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor.

In accordance with Section I, Paragraph II of the Werewolf Act of 1993, no werewolf may be employed in a position of government or education in other than a temporary, advisory capacity, excepting in a state of emergency.

You may choose to visit Room 401 within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures on September the 10th, 1997 at 10 a.m. to discuss your options with the Department. It is recommended that you bring with you your birth certificate, your certificate of transformation or another official document containing your identification number, a letter from your current employer, and no more than one character witness.

Best Wishes,

Dolores Umbridge

Dolores Umbridge, Chief Inquisitor of the Department of Magical Education, etc. etc.

Remus re-read the letter with increasing desperation, then crumpled it in his fist. Stupid, stupid, stupid to think for even a handful of days that he would be allowed to stay here. He was dangerous three days of the month, but more importantly, he had replaced the unctuous Dolores from what she considered to be her rightful place at Hogwarts. He supposed it was time to pack his bags – again.

Then his eyes lit on Harry. The teenager felt the weight of Remus’s gaze and looked up, offering Lupin a hesitant and slightly apologetic smile, along with a half-wave. He returned Harry’s smile and waved back; he could not leave Harry now, not when Harry had just lost Sirius, was most likely still reeling from the pain of it. He smoothed the letter flat, his expression going rigid with determination.

His birth certificate. Well, yes, of course he had that. His werewolf papers? He sneered unconsciously. They’d been handed out the day that the infamous werewolf decree was passed, and any Ministry official or Auror could demand to see them at any time, and could arrest him if he happened to have left them at home. They were in the pocket of his robes right now, and always were. A letter from the Headmaster – just as easy, and no doubt Dumbledore would go above and beyond the simple requirement that he state he wanted Remus for the job.

The character witness.

Remus frowned in concentration. Perhaps Dumbledore would consent to accompany him? He had heard many rumors about Dolores Umbridge, however, and suspected that Dumbledore’s or even McGonagall’s presence would make things worse rather than better. The woman had clashed with the both of them rather spectacularly, and had been defeated – certainly, from what Remus knew of her, she was not likely to be gracious in defeat.

In fact, perhaps this was her attempt to say that, in fact, no suitable replacement had been found for the Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that she was, Therefor, going to resume her position?

Oh, dear.

No, he needed someone who harbored no real animosity towards the woman, but could be just as intimidating as the aforementioned Professors when roused. Or when vaguely irritated in fact. His gaze swept unconsciously to the man he was considering, then fled back down to the letter in his hands.

Oh, yes. The madness of Hogwarts was definitely rubbing off on him.

Still, Snape’s reputation was such that if the man did manage to say something nice about him, no one would contest his Sainthood, much less his ability to teach. Not even Dolores would be able to dispute that Snape had no reason whatsoever to support him – it would be apparent, in fact, that Snape had every reason to dispute him, given that Snape wanted the Defense job for himself...

Right. He has no reason to. So what makes you think he will? Remus snuck another glance along the staff table. It couldn’t hurt to ask.

Given how he reacted the last time you said something ridiculous, perhaps someone could get hurt, he conceded, and finished his eggs through force of habit rather than actual hunger.

When Snape stood, Remus did as well, bolting the last of his chamomile tea. He followed the Potions Master out into the hallways, trailing ten or twenty feet behind, his brow furrowed; he wasn’t certain how to broach the subject.

It took a moment for Remus, therefore, to realize that Severus had stopped walking, and he nearly banged into him from behind.

“Well?” Snape spat. “You were staring at me all throughout breakfast. Unless I have some bit of egg on my face, you have something to discuss with me. Put more succinctly, what has Harry done now?”

Remus swallowed, opening his mouth to explain, but felt in a rush how many ways he could say the wrong thing, not be convincing enough. After a moment’s consideration, where Snape stared at him rather patiently – for Snape – he merely handed the Ministry’s letter to the other man.

Lupin relaxed as Snape took it in his hands and began to read it, thinking with a pang that if he’d shown the letter to Sirius, the Animagus would have tossed his black hair back with his trademark bark of a laugh – that perfect cow, he would’ve commented, and then offered to get Remus spectacularly drunk...

Lupin jolted out of his reverie when Snape thrust the letter at him, actually thumping his chest with the outstretched hand. He snatched at the piece of paper and trailed Snape as he continued to stomp down the hallway.

No comment? No comment whatsoever? He would have supposed – something – even something inescapably, unforgivably cruel. “Er, Severus?”

“What is it that you expect me to do about it?” Snape bit off. “Or perhaps this is merely your way of informing me that you are leaving us. Again.”

Remus perked up. “No, no, it’s not that. I was just wondering if you’d consent to – to be my character witness.”

Snape actually laughed at this, a sound Remus had never heard before, merry and absolutely non-Severus Snape. Several of the portraits swiveled around and made exclamations of startlement.

Although the sound was somewhat warming and altogether human, Remus couldn’t help the fact that his cheeks were heating – Snape was laughing at him, after all.

“What possessed you to ask me?” the man finally wondered once his mirth had subsided. “Perhaps your latest brush with demonhood has finally unhinged you?”

Remus growled. “No – it’s just that...” He paused, feeling a heady rush of anger towards the other man. “I don’t know what possessed me. Never mind. I’ll ask... Nearly-Headless-Nick.” He turned to head back to the Great Hall.

“Why is it that Dumbledore cannot accompany you?” Snape demanded.

Remus paused, turned. “Dumbledore and McGonagall would do anything to get a more permanent Defense professor, and the whole wizarding world knows it,” he replied. “In light of that, I doubt that even Dumbledore’s rather significant influence would sway the Ministry to suppose them unbiased.” He coughed. “Besides all that, it’s Umbridge,” he tacked on. “She has a particular dislike for them both.”

“Flitwick, then. I do not have time to participate in yet another one of the Ministry’s paltry segregation attempts.”

“Flitwick is clever and a very kind man,” Remus replied, “but is he intimidating? Can he stand up to Umbridge?”

Snape looked a bit lost for a moment. “Trelawney?”

“Now honestly, Severus, do you really suppose that would help or hurt my chances?”

Snape paused. “Well.”

“Then you’ll come,” Remus said.

“No, I shall not.”

“Then it will be your fault when I am sent packing to the farthest reaches of Outer Slabovia,” Remus replied lightly.

“Joy,” Snape replied, and continued stalking off to the Potions dungeons.

Remus, desperate, pulled his trump card. “Harry,” he breathed anxiously, “I want to be there for Harry!”

Now it was Snape who paused, turned, masked interest. “Pardon?”

“He’s just lost Sirius, is it fair that he lose me, too? I know I have not been there to take care of him – and I should have been, Severus, I should have been! I need to be a presence in his life, I owe it to James–”

Snape’s features had been softening, but the mention of his old enemy hardened them to stone. “Heavens forefend I stand in the way of James Potter–”

“James isn’t here!” Lupin said desperately. “When are you going to figure out that they’re not here, not James or Sirius or Peter – that I’m the only one left!”

Remus paused, hysterical energy draining from him at the words. He hadn’t meant to say all that. More importantly, Snape didn’t owe him anything. If anything, he owed Snape – for making the Wolfsbane Potion over and over again, despite the man’s personal dislike of him. Snape always did what was right, even when he didn’t like doing it, and that was so incredibly admirable. Now here he was, not only asking for another favor but expecting to receive it, indignant at being denied, as though Severus’s aid was his due.

It was insane – all of this. He was only humiliating himself, and, he suspected, Snape as well. “Sorry,” he muttered, but Snape stopped him, gripping his upper arm and jerking him back.

“I see what you’re saying,” the Potions Master muttered. “We are the only ones left.”

Remus gaped – Snape was the only one...? What did that mean? He swallowed past the lump in his throat that was part fear and part thwarted hope, then held his breath as Snape scanned his features, the Potion Master’s sneer fading as the moment stretched.

“Yes. I’ll go,” Snape said suddenly, and released him. “The tenth. That is the day after tomorrow, is it not? Saturday?”

Lupin nodded dumbly.

“I will be waiting in the Great Hall after breakfast, at nine A.M. Do not be late or I will consider it a further waste of my time. And you’ll owe me, Remus,” he said darkly.

Remus Lupin nodded, letting his breath out in a whoosh as Snape turned on one heel and continued to billow off dramatically towards the Potions classrooms.

He went next to obtain his letter from Albus Dumbledore, who seemed startled but quite pleased that he had chosen Severus Snape for his advocate. And all throughout his classes that day, he found his speech temporarily arrested by an almost overwhelming sense of relief – an almost treacherous well-being that left him feeling weak, shaky, and rather filled with gratitude.