Notes: Last chapter, folks. Thanks again to all who've read this. To those who have been reading in secret, do us all a favour and humour the Review Whore. Yes, I mean me. Flame if you like, but please, do it eloquently.

Wolfgang was half-asleep when the door of the dormitory slammed open and then shut again, waking him up. None of the other Slytherin boys had been disturbed, which was lucky because it was Lucius who skulked into the room, glaring straight at Wolfgang.

"It's your fault," he snapped.

Wolfgang blinked away the sleep. "What?" he demanded, moving aside as Lucius sat down on the edge of his bed. "Christ," he yelped, "you're soaking wet! Sod off, will you!"

Lucius didn't move, and continued to drip water all over Wolfgang's bed. "Lupin. Challenge. Me wet. All your fault," he mumbled.

Wolfgang sat up. "So you did it?" he asked, suddenly interested.

"Hmm? Did what?"

"Did Lupin, obviously. Are you okay? You seem very. . .Well, odd."

"Oh, Lupin. Yes. At dinner. Well obviously not at dinner, we were . . . somewhere else."

"Bloody hell. Where have you been since then?"

Lucius shrugged. "I don't know. Walking."

Wolfgang scowled. There was something seriously wrong with his friend, and for now the soaking wet bed sheets could be ignored.

"Are you okay?" Wolf repeated. Lucius shook his head vigorously, and all of a sudden something of his old self came back to him.

"Of course I'm okay, why shouldn't I be? I got him, and now I am going to bed."

"You'll be wanting your money then?" With a sigh, Wolfgang threw his money pouch at Lucius, who caught it and held it out.

"Er. You know the other day when we spoke about me being an honest man?" Wolfgang nodded. "Well I still can't take this." Lucius threw the pouch back, then peeled off his drenched shirt before collapsing into bed. But even in his sleep he was not safe. Lupin was there in his dreams, never speaking to him, never close enough to touch, but always there somewhere in the background, maybe watching Black and Potter pulling pranks, maybe sitting at the back of a class, maybe amongst a crowd watching Quidditch. And when Lucius woke up, he still wasn't free because Lupin caught his eye at breakfast, and Black tried to trip him over in the corridor after lunch, and Potter made a joke about him at the prefects' meeting when he thought the Head Boy wasn't listening. There was nothing he could do to escape Lupin or his friends – even in the Slytherin common room he could still hear those frantic little yelps of pleasure whenever he closed his eyes for so much as a second. . .

"Mr Malfoy!" A shrill voice cut through his daydreams as he made his way back from the library on Saturday evening. "Will you look where you are going?"

Lucius glanced up at Professor McGonagall. The transfiguration teacher was glaring at him, and he remembered something about standing on her foot.

"Sorry Professor," he muttered, before hurrying on.

It was no use. He would have to see Lupin again, as soon as possible. This was insane; he wasn't supposed to be feeling like this! This fuzzy sensation in his head wasn't right, it was what he was supposed to cause in other people. He knew deep down that he had not seduced anybody that week: Remus Lupin had seduced him. It was Lupin who should have won the hundred and fifty galleons, and even that was a modest prize for the feat he had achieved. Of course, this was not – the word refused to even enter his mind unless he forced it – love. Lucius Malfoy could not fall in love because Lucius Malfoy would never let that happen. But it was lust mixed with adoration, which can be more or less the same thing.

He sulked his way through Saturday night, and moped his way through Sunday morning. Wolfgang was a bag of nerves by the time Sunday lunch was over, and he was trying his best to avoid Lucius. Lucius, on the other hand, was well aware that Wolfgang was the only person he could really talk to. Slytherins could never be trusted, but Wolfgang was strange as a rule and although Lucius did not completely trust him, he did have faith in his judgement. As Wolfgang shoved aside his pudding dish and went to make a dash back to the common room, Lucius' hand shot out and grabbed him by the robes, pulling him back down on the bench beside him.

"I need to talk to you," Lucius hissed. "Come on." He dragged Wolfgang out of the great hall, the smaller boy scurrying frantically to avoid falling flat on his face.

"What's the matter with you?" Wolfgang snapped as soon as they were alone.

Lucius stopped and leaned against the wall. Wolfgang had never seen him so flustered – or, for that matter, flustered at all. Lucius glanced around then made a hopeless sound in his throat. "I've really done it now, Wolf," he groaned.

Wolfgang gave him a knowing yet desperate look. "You've sunken to fresh, as yet unexplored levels of depravity, haven't you? Exploring whole new depths of inhumanity, never before encountered by decent, self-respecting Slytherin students."

Lucius nodded miserably. Wolfgang looked almost disgusted.

"You've fallen in love with him . . . Haven't you?HavenHH"

Wolfgang peered at his wretched friend, then suddenly became sympathetic, although he wasn't sure how to deal with this new emotion. He patted Lucius weakly on the shoulder. "There," he said. "There," he added as an after- thought.

"I don't want to feel like this!" wailed Lucius. "It's pathetic!" Something appeared to occur to him, and he suddenly grabbed Wolfgang by the collar. "Don't you dare mention this to anyone, do you hear?" he snarled.

"Goeswithoutsaying!" squeaked Wolfgang. Lucius narrowed his eyes at him, then let him go. The Head Boy ran a flustered hand through his hair, which hadn't been tied back since Friday's encounter with Remus.

"I don't know what to do, Wolf." He glanced up at the ceiling, which offered him no reassurance. Wolfgang hovered uselessly. "I can't have him, I know that. It'd be stupid. Besides, he's a half-breed and a half-blood; in anyone else, those are repulsive qualities. But Remus is different – don't ask me why. You don't know him."

"Neither do you."

"A minor issue."

Wolfgang nodded. "True. But nonetheless, this is serious. And I'm afraid that for the first time ever, I don't have a plan which I cooked up some time when I was bored. I never could have imagined this set of circumstances, so you're entirely on your own, even – and especially – if you want a shoulder to cry on. I'd like to reiterate my earlier sentiments: I don't go in for that stuff."

Lucius wiped frantically at his dry but red eyes, as if daring them to try and cry on him. "I'm fine," he said eventually. "I don't actually need you, you know."

"Of course," said Wolfgang, understanding the situation perfectly. He paused briefly, gazing over Lucius' shoulder. "Look," he whispered.

Lucius glanced behind him in time to see Remus disappearing through a nearby door. When he turned back, Wolfgang had made himself scarce. Lucius swallowed his pride, and headed towards the door.

It was a transfiguration classroom, used by professor McGonagall occasionally. Lucius was familiar with it; it would be the perfect place to confront Remus. He paused briefly outside, then stuck his head around the door.

Later, he played the scene through his mind, over and over again, and each time he was glad he had not just strode into the room unannounced. Rather he had watched undetected from the doorway as Remus stepped towards a waiting Sirius Black, looped his arms round his neck, and placed a hesitant kiss on the taller boy's lips. Black responded instantly, wrapping his arms around Remus and pulling him in closer for a passionate kiss. His hands found a familiar black ribbon in Remus' hair and tugged it out, winding his fingers into the curly brown locks as Remus' fingers stroked Sirius' thigh right up to his hip. . .

Lucius stepped quickly out of the room and collected himself in the corridor outside. That was it then; Lupin had been nothing more than a few moments' pleasure and a week's worth of obsession. His heart was set on another, and it was high time Lucius forgot about him too. Easier said than done, he knew that, but to coin another cliché, you can't win them all. He finally caught his breath, pulled a spare ribbon from his pocket, straightened his hair, and strode out into the entrance hall. However his mind was not focused on where he was going, because he instantly collided with someone trying to go the same way as him only faster. A small blonde girl cried out as her bag was knocked to the floor and all her school books spilled out. Lucius may have been cunning, calculating and ultimately cruel, but he was also a gentleman, and as a gentleman he automatically steadied the girl by her elbow and began gathering up her books. She watched him with a nervous smile, and he glanced up at her from his crouched position. A moment's thought, and her name came to him.

"So sorry, Narcissa. I wasn't looking where I was going." He straightened up and slung her bag over his own shoulder. "Let me carry this."

They set off along the corridor, Lucius doing his best to be charming, and all the nervousness leaving Narcissa's smile. As they left the school and emerged into the warm summer light, she slipped her arm through his, and he escorted her down towards the shimmering banks of the Great Lake.

The End