Lingering outside for a handful of moments after Harry disappeared into the castle, Remus Lupin lifted his face to the sun. The play of light on his eyelids, cheeks, neck, and shoulders warmed him and dulled the cold ache he felt throughout his body. An odd sensation, to have the sun warm his hair and dark clothes, while, at the same time, illness made him shiver. The calm autumn breeze ruffled his hair, blowing a few of the shoulder length strands onto his face. With a grimace, Remus pushed the hair behind his ears and pushed his nose into his knuckles. Stepping into the shadows near one of the castle's towers, he held back the tickling, his eyelids straining shut, nose twitching as the frustrated itch built.

"Eheh! HepTshoo! Ehtishhh! Ehmmp!tishhoo!" He whipped the handkerchief from his sleeve as the tickle intensified, prompting more sneezes. "ehhh, Hushooo! Eshuh! Huhh, yihishoo!"

Eyes still drooping heavily shut, Remus gave his head a good shake and his nose a good blow. The short time he had spent outside, although refreshing and enjoyable, had tired him in more than one way. Reluctance to give up the beneficial effects of sunlight and fresh air had kept him outside when he ought to have been correcting the first year's essays. Now, only moments later, a fit of the sneezes firmly convinced him to seek the privacy and quiet of his office. Remus coughed harshly into a fist after he stifled a yawn. Tired, he pressed one hand wearily to his heart and walked back to his rooms.

The transformation had been horrible this month. Even the wolfsbane potion had failed to mitigate all the aftereffects. One cup of the bitter liquid, every day for a week before the full moon, cured him of the more serious effects. Most of the violent shivering and bone-aching cold of a few nights ago had faded. However, the process had weakened him, left him susceptible, more delicate than usual. Just a head cold, he had told Harry, he did not want the boy to worry. A head cold he could not take any medicine for lest it interfere with the wolfsbane. And he could not take the risk that his mind would not be his own the next time he transformed. At least the wolfsbane ensured he would only have the body of an animal. Thus, no remedies or medications for Remus. He could not afford to miss another day of class come Monday, either, so sleeping the cold off was not an option. A short rest, however, was much needed before he started to grade lessons.

As soon as he entered his office, he pulled out his wand and stared at the empty, dusty fireplace. The room was cool and damp enough to be uncomfortable through his robes.

"Incendio!" He whispered the spell, no need to strain an already sore throat. Instantly, a bright, blazing fire lit up the room, shadows flickering on the grey stone walls in orange light.

The heat of the fire, so different and more intense than sunlight, burned the tips of his ears and nose as the cold that nipped them earlier faded. He stood with arms folded and watched the flames, blue core and yellow tongue, magically leap unfueled. Sniffling, he bowed his head and inhaled through a stuffed up nose. He could get through this, he always did. It had been many years since he depended on someone to help him through times like these. Remus braced himself and turned sharply.

Are you sure you're up to protecting young Potter here by battling a dementor? Or Sirius Black?

Snape's words rang in his mind, the cold, cruel tone they took as a he snarled the name 'Sirius Black'. The same snarl Lupin heard years before here, at Hogwarts, after a scuffle in the hallways or a snarky comment in Potions class. Yes, Sirius did know how to get on Severus Snape's nerves. But it was the incident by the Whomping Willow that made Severus detest him so, even all these years later.

"Oh, Padfoot," Lupin sighed to himself, "you just couldn't resist? Too daring for your own good, my dear friend."

Remus walked over to the small bookshelf at the back of his office and pulled down a thick, leather bound, gilt edged volume, Ars Animagorum. Unable to shake the pain of memory, he gave into it instead. Balancing the book on one arm and opening the dusty pages, he flipped through the tome and pulled out a piece of folded parchment. A solemn looking wizard from the seventeenth century gave Remus a hard look from under the heading Periculum Transformationis before the book slammed shut. With some effort, he hefted the tome back onto the shelf and stepped over to the cot, still holding the parchment. The dust made his nostrils twinge, already sensitive and irritated from his cold.

"Huh, huhuschoo! Ehshoo!" Sneezing lightly into the crook of his arm, he sat down on the cot and blew his nose into a new, clean handkerchief.

Remus sat down, a loud sigh escaping involuntarily from deep inside his chest. He placed the folded paper beside atop a blanket and raked his hands through his hair. His head was heavy from the congestion and lack of sleep, his chest and throat raw from the coughing. And he could feel another bout of the sneezes working itself up inside his nose. Handkerchief held in both hands and hovering before his face, Remus crinkled his nose and jerked forward as his breath hitched.

"Huh, ahhuh! Huheschoo!! Eshooo! Ehishhh! Hishhoo! Ahh, ohh, oh, my god," struggling to get the rest of the sneeze out, he buried his head in the handkerchief, "ahhh, heh! heh! Huh!Uhshooo!!!"

Recovered from the sneezes, Remus slid the parchment onto his lap and folded it. The paper was soft and yellow with age, the corners no longer sharp, the creases permanent. Carefully he removed the two pictures he kept in the folded parchment and gazed at them. The sad happiness of recollection flittered through his heart as the firelight threw leaping light and shadow across the pictures. Snape had opened an old wound when he warned Remus that he was incapable of defending Harry from Sirius Black. But Sirius Black would never harm Harry. Sirius Black was not the man who escaped from Azkaban; he was not the man who killed Peter and all those innocent Muggles; Sirius would have never betrayed James and Lily.

Yet, James, Lily and Peter were all dead, dead, and Sirius had been put in Azkaban, worse than dead, as Remus watched the awful events unfold in the pages of The Daily Prophet.

No. Sirius was the smiling man with quick eyes who was standing next to James in the Potters' wedding picture. He was the laughing, dark haired young man who pulled Remus into an awkward hug when James insisted on taking the other picture. Remus grinned as the figures in the pictures moved, Sirius pulling him closer as he squirmed and tried to smile at the same time.

Transforming had not been so bad then, even without the wolfsbane potion, when Padfoot had been with him. Especially the hours right after dawn, when cold and fatigue warred with his senses to draw him into restless sleep. Sirius would stay with him, in the infirmary, their dorm, even in the Shrieking Shack, his hand on Remus' back, massaging away the tension and pain. Always like that, warm and firm, until that one morning in their sixth year. Sirius lay down next to Remus, on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, when Remus did not have the strength to stand up. He had come out of wolf form poorly that time, coughs and chills shaking his body. A few harsh, throat burning sneezes dazed him, and he only half noticed Sirius pulling their cloaks over their bodies, pressing his chest to Remus' back, and wrapping his arms around the smaller boy.

It's all right, Moony, sleep. It's going to be all right from now on. Nice and warm, yeah?

Whispered words that haunted his memory, whispered promises on the cold, hard floor, whispered love and friendship that was supposed to be keep them warm for years to come.

Remus traced the edge of the picture with one fingertip. The years had passed after that night; Padfoot and Moony spent the full moon together and then the few days after recovering from those few hours. But not the last twelve years. And now, now it was worse than before. Thinking of the last time he felt Padfoot run along side of him, under the silver light of the moon, Remus felt a sob catch in his chest, which developed into a cough as he groaned.

Helpless, he bent forward and gasped as the breath tore painfully from his lungs. He should have known not to think of Padfoot, not to let those feelings rise in his heart. The pain in his chest faded until only labored breathing and a raw throat remained. A sharp rap on the door to his office broke through the sound of his thudding heart and raspy breathing.

"Coming!" He spoke as loudly as he could manage, one hand rubbing his neck.

No visitors were expected and the students would heed his privacy and not seek him if the door were closed. Wondering who sought him thus, Remus approached the door, wiping his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his robe.

"Alohomora!" He uttered and waved his hand before the door, the spell easy enough to perform without his wand, especially since he had put the locking spell on the door.

"Lupin." Snape stood before his door, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Do come in, Severus." Remus took a step back. "Is there something you needed?"

Snape remained in the entranceway and held a goblet up to Remus. His expression softened minutely, making the gesture more an offering than seconds earlier. Curious, Remus accepted the goblet and led Snape into his office with an inviting nod of his head. As they stood at the back of the room, Remus placed the cup down on his desk and coughed lightly into the palm of his hand. Snape looked up, arms clasped behind his back.

A stifled gasp had alerted Snape as Remus cupped his hand over his nose.

"Ahh, huheshhhh!! Ehishhhoo! eshuh, eshhoo! Ishooo! Ah! Huhh, huhAchoo!!" Politely excusing himself and blowing his nose quietly into his handkerchief, Remus avoided the unwavering gaze from Snape's direction. He only looked up as Snape murmured an almost silent 'bless you'.

"It's a warming potion." Dark eyes stared at him, nearly forcing Remus to pick up the goblet and look at the contents of the cup. "Very mild. It won't react with the wolfsbane."

Snape turned away and faced the cot, so that he had to glance sideways to look at Remus. His eyes fell on the pictures; a scowl crossed his face as he recognized a younger Lupin and Black.

"Thank you, Severus. It is only a cold, but I do appreciate this." He sniffled hastily and rubbed his nose with his finger before examining the potion.

Remus dipped his tongue into the liquid. A lukewarm, sweet taste exploded in his mouth as he drained the cup. The tendrils of warmth crawled into his belly, out to his limbs and up and down his spine. A final shiver coursed though his body and ended in a sigh of relief. Remus placed the cup back down and stood next to Snape.

"Thank you."

Snape's eyes were riveted on the picture, his dark hair falling over his forehead. When he turned his head, the angry snarl had faded from his lips and the harsh glint from his eyes. Confusion, hurt, jealousy or some other indefinable, yet remarkably atypical for Severus Snape, emotion clouded his visage. But just as Remus moved forward to touch his shoulder, the man hardened his face and moved away.

"Yes, well, I have no desire to substitute for you again, Lupin," Snape said icily, "I have enough of my own work without yours on top of it."

"No, of course not, Severus." Remus followed the Potions master as he took fast, long steps toward the door.

As he reached the door, Snape turned suddenly, his long robes swishing with the movement. Face to face and only a few inches away from him, Snape whispered harshly to Remus.

"You are a fool, Remus Lupin. Black was trouble then and he is now. Even you will not be able to stop that maniac. You never knew what he really was, Lupin." Snape raised one hand, but lowered it before he could do what he intended. He then swept away.

Remus shut the door and walked to the back of the room. He allowed himself the luxury of one last look at the pictures before he inserted them into the folded parchment and then into their home inside the book. He fought to keep the warmth inside, to preserve the feeling of the potion he had just swallowed. Nevertheless, even as he curled up on the cot and pulled a blanket over his body, real and heartfelt warmth evaded him.

The problem never was that he did not know Sirius Black. He knew him too well and loved him too long not to feel the cold creep into his heart. The memory of a shared embrace in the Shrieking Shack remained as he spoke to the past with hope for the future.

"One word, Padfoot, I swear, one word, just tell me and it'll all be all right again. Nice and warm again."

finis