Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would have a life-size Remus doll. I do not have a life-size Remus doll; therefore, I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: I will put the same note here that I did on I'm Draco Malfoy's Lover?!. This fic parodies various Remus ships - as well as a few other ships that my sick mind thinks up. So, if you can laugh at yourself (and your ship), then please enjoy this fic. If you're one of those hardcore people who thinks Remus and the giant squid are meant for each other and that anyone who doesn't think the same should go die, please, please don't read this.

I have also inserted myself into the fic as a parody of when an authoress loves a certain character, she places herself in the story as a witch/Mary Sue and the two fall madly in love, have kids, etc. I tried to make it as funny as I could. Hope you enjoy!

Everybody Loves Remus

Remus Lupin woke to a wet tongue on his face. To most men, this would be a sign of affection from a pet dog, one that the owner would immediately reciprocate in a head pat or hug of "man's best friend." However, to Remus, this only marked the usual early morning annoyance by the man who was supposed to be his best friend. Remus supposed it was only a testament to their friendship that Sirius Black could still maintain "best friend" status even when perched upon his chest at five-thirty in the morning, licking his face in the form of a large, shaggy Newfoundland. . . .

Either that or his social life was really, really pathetic.

So, completing his usual role in this daily ritual, Remus attempted to pull the covers further up over his head. "Geroff me you old mutt," he grumbled, batting at thin air.

"Why so grumpy this morning, Moony?" Sirius asked, his usual hoarse voice thick with sleep.

"Well, Pads, I think it might have something to do with you waking me up at five in the morning," Remus answered in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Aww, but it's so much fun," Sirius pouted, placing his head next to Remus's on the pillow and giving the werewolf's ear an affectionate nibble.

"Well, you've had your fun and now, if you don't mind, I'm going back to-" However, Remus was cut off mid-sentence as Sirius - Sirius Black, his best friend since they were eleven and one of Hogwarts's most reputed ladies' men - took that moment to kiss him full on the lips.

It took a few moments for this insane event to register in Remus's mind, a few moments that Sirius took to run his fingers gently through his light brown hair and to . . . oh, dear Merlin, no!

"Augh!" Remus jerked himself away from the other man so suddenly that Sirius nearly fell off the bed in surprise. Eyes wide, Sirius moved toward him and placed a hand to his forehead. Remus stiffened at the touch.

"Moony, honey, what's the matter?" he asked in a gentle, slow voice very unlike his own. "Are you ill? Do you want me to make you some tea?"

"What's the matter? What's the matter?" Remus demanded, his voice growing steadily higher, realizing as he did so that he wasn't exactly disproving Sirius's theory. "What's the matter with you? I wake up and you just start . . . start-" he couldn't finish the sentence - "You're the one who's ill, Sirius!" he finished, whilst racking his brains for what may have caused Sirius to act this way. True, he had been gone from headquarters for a couple of days. . . . Was it possible that Sirius, in a fit of loneliness, had turned to a bottle of firewhiskey and these were the aftereffects? He knew that they kept a few Sobriety Potions in the house - just in case - in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, he believed. . . .

Not looking at Sirius, not wanting to encourage him, he attempted to slide his feet out of the bed and into warm, slightly careworn slippers. Sirius grabbed his arm and when he next spoke, his voice was glazed with tears.

"Moony, I-I'm sorry. So, so sorry." Remus turned to him, surprised; was the man finally talking sense at last? "I-I just, I thought we had something. I thought that this meant something to you." Sirius gestured first at himself, then at Remus. "I thought you cared ab-about Harry and about m-me."

"Pads," Remus begged. Even though Sirius may not be in his right mind, the man's words tugged at his heart strings. "Pads, don't. Of course I care about you and Harry."

Unfortunately, however, only one word of this seemed to have registered in Sirius's inebriated mind. "Oh, you c-care about Harry, but not ab-about me?" he demanded angrily, swiping at the tears coursing down his sunken cheeks. "Why d-don't I just get H-Harry in here in-instead and you two can just g-get on with it?!"

Reeling from Sirius's latest words, Remus stammered, "I - Padfoot, I - Harry? - no. . . . Sirius, for Merlin's sake, he's your godson!"

"Oh, but Moony, he's so much more than that! I thought - I thought you understood. . . ." Sirius was becoming more hysterical by the minute. "But go ahead, Remus, go ahead! Pretend that this - that we - didn't mean anything! Leave! Walk out on me, walk out on Harry, walk out on your child!"

Child? Trying his best to ignore this unpleasant fact, Remus placed a tentative hand on Sirius's heaving shoulder. Sirius glared at him.

"Leave, Remus."

"Sirius, can't we just. . . ?"

"No, we can't. I don't want to hear your petty excuses, Remus. Go. Just . . . just go." Every word the man said looked as if it was costing him a great deal of effort.

"But. . . ."

"Go!" Sirius roared. Startled, Remus barely had time to throw on a bathrobe before hightailing it out the door.

Nearly sprinting down several flights of stairs to the bathroom, Remus immediately began rifling through the medicine cabinet. Sobriety Potion, Sobriety Potion. . . . How he would get Sirius to take it when the man was in such an . . . odd mood, he wasn't sure; however, his frantic search yielded no results. Sighing and rubbing his temples, he attempted to think of anywhere else Sirius may keep potions.

The kitchen?

"Professor Lupin!" The girlish voice made him start. Wheeling around, he found himself face-to-face with . . . someone he had never seen in his life. But . . . no, it couldn't be.

"H-Hermione?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course it is, silly!" she said with a very un-Hermione-ish giggle. Remus found this very hard to believe. After all, last time he had checked, Hermione hadn't owned clothes like that - a very mini mini-skirt and a sheer camisole that bared far too much skin - nor had her hair been sleek, straight, and shiny and, as far as he knew she never wore makeup - especially in those ridiculously large quantities. And, Merlin, when had her breasts gotten that . . . well, big?!

Stop staring, Remus, he reminded himself quickly tearing his eyes away from his former student's chest.

"I've been looking for you everywhere, Remmy-poo," this pseudo-Hermione cooed, pressing herself up against him.

Remus nearly gagged. Remmy-poo? "Oh, have you now?" he asked, with a brave attempt at his usual professionalism. "Did - did you need help with - with schoolwork?"

Hermione gave yet another freakish giggle - sending tremors down Remus's spine - as another voice purred from the doorway, "Yes, Remus - schoolwork." Tearing his eyes away from Hermione's chest - yet again - Remus gaped at the figure in the doorway.

It was Ginny - but a Ginny unlike he had ever seen before. Dressed even more oddly than Hermione, the youngest Weasley was dressed in an incredibly short black - was it a dress? - Remus supposed that was the best term to use but didn't a dress usually cover more than the very tops of the thighs? Fishnets decorated her slim legs and high-heeled black boots extended up to her knees. In her right hand, she brandished a whip. Remus had to admit that it would have been somewhat appealing to his wolfish nature if it wasn't on a girl - yes, a girl - twenty years his junior.

Bestowing him with a slightly twisted smile, Ginny advanced into the room. "We need you to teach us all about anatomy." Extending black-painted talons, she placed them possessively on his chest.

"Yes, how our bodies work and all that, you know?" Hermione squealed, flipping her hair and batting her eyelashes in what Remus could only guess was supposed to be a sexy way but only made him feel slightly nauseous.

"Really Remus, the bathroom? I expected somewhere more romantic. Hmm . . . must be my bad influence on you." Ginny sent him another twisted smile as Hermione giggled shrilly.

"Ginny," Remus began in his best disciplinarian voice, "where is your mother? I just cannot believe that Molly would allow this to take place. . . ."

Ginny's smile - if it could be called that - disappeared, to be replaced by a singularly annoyed look. "Oh, her. It's her you want, is it?" Hermione's thousand-watt smile, too, had faded.

"Ginevra Weasley!" Remus exclaimed, rapidly losing his cool. "Where is your mother?"

"If you must know," Ginny sighed, eyebrows contracting, "she's getting ready. We just thought we'd start without her for once."

"I really don't understand what you see in her, Remmy," Hermione cooed, pouting. "When you could have all of this. . . ."

Remus barely had time to react as, as one, the two teenage girls lunged toward him, painted nails extended, overly madeup faces mad with lust. He managed to dodge them just in time, forcing himself through the wall of flesh and womanly curves and. . . .

No, Remus . . . just no. Twenty years younger than you, remember?

Claws scraped at his back as Remus sprinted out of the bathroom, taking only a moment to gasp Colloportus at the door. Thank Merlin he had remembered his wand. But he knew it wouldn't hold them for long. He had to find out what was going on, and quickly.

As he barreled down the stairs, he caught sight of a bikini-clad Molly who screeched something that sounded like his name as he passed; Harry, his stomach much more rotund than usual, wearing a T-shirt that read "I Love My Baby"; Snape, standing at the foot of the stairs, watching him with a mildly amused expression on his face.

Taking it as a sign of pure desperation that he was going to Snape of all people for help, Remus skidded to a halt next to the sallow-faced Potions Master.

"Severus . . . Snape . . . I-I. . . ."

"Yes, what is it Lupin?" Snape asked sounding rather bored, his characteristic sneer playing about his face. Oh, how glad he was to see it; at least someone was acting normally!

Taking a deep breath, Remus made a brave attempt at his usual formality. "It's just that, Severus, everyone is acting oddly. First Sirius was . . . well, erm. . . ." Snape's smirk widened. "Well, I thought a Sobriety Potion would have sorted him right out but then Hermione and Ginny well . . . they came at me and I was wondering whether you could possibly. . . ."

The end of his sentence was cut off by a shriek of, "Remmy, Remmy, where are you?". Without any explanation, Remus opened the nearest door and shoved Snape in, quickly following after him.

"Colloportus," he whispered, pointing his wand once again at the door before turning once again to Snape who - unsurprisingly, considering Remus had just pushed him headfirst into a broom cupboard - was gazing at him with a most peculiar expression.

"I was wondering if you could perhaps take a look at them," Remus finished with as much dignity as possible whilst disentangling a several spiders from his hair. However, Snape merely continued to stare at him for several long moments until Remus prompted him with, "Severus, would you. . . ?"

"Remus, I don't understand what it is you are asking of me," Snape finally drawled.

"Don't understand?" Remus asked, starting to become impatient now. "Severus, all I'm asking is to look them over and diagnose what it is they have. You know how to brew up the antidote for a Love Potion, don't you?" His voice was purposely sarcastic, hoping to goad his schoolboy enemy into speech.

"Really, Remus, are you being purposely obtuse?" Snape asked, thick eyebrow contracting in displeasure. "No potion did this."

"Well, a spell then, a practical joke? What the hell is it?!"

Snape raised an eyebrow, as if he found Remus nothing more than an impertinent student. Remus couldn't help himself anymore, he shouted.

"Look, will you just tell me what's going on here?!"

"They want you, Remus Lupin," Snape finally said softly and there was a hungry look in his eyes now. "How can you blame them for wanting you? How can you blame me?" And he pressed himself against Remus, pushing the man against the cupboard door.

This was happening far too often for his liking.

"Severus, really. I mean - I'm flattered - but, well. . . ." Remus stuttered, attempting to touch as little of the man as possible while fiddling with the locked door. Sirius was one thing, but Snape?

"Worried about Black's reaction?" Snape murmured in his ear, his hooked nose and yellowing teeth far too close for comfort.

"Not - exactly," Remus said haltingly, as he attempted not to throw up. Damn it, why did he have to go and lock himself in here? Why?

"Then . . . what is it?" The voice was a hiss like the sound of a softly simmering cauldron. Snape had unbuttoned his long black robes and Remus felt leathery fabric brush his own hips. Dear Merlin . . . Snape was wearing leather?

"It's just that I - don't - think - we're - meant to be - together." Snape's lips were closer now and his hands were traveling Remus's body quite thoroughly. All of a sudden he felt very conscious of the fact that he was only wearing boxers under his old bathrobe.

"Well," said Snape and his voice had regained some of its old caustic nature now, "I can't help but disagree Lupin." And, just as Remus desperately turned the door knob, Snape lunged, giving Remus that extra push for the door to swing open, allowing the two men to tumble headfirst into the hall.

"Remmy!"

"Remus, come here you sexy wolf."

Damn. Struggling free of the mass of limbs that was Severus Snape, Remus barreled out the front doors into the rainy, humid morning refusing to look back into those faces - those things of nightmares. . . .

He had no idea where he was going, all he knew was that it was imperative that he get away from there. Across busy streets - where many a driver had honked and swore at him - down side streets, making turns at random, half-hoping to run into a Muggle law-enforcer - pleasemen? - and report . . . well, he knew exactly what that was called - sexual harassment!

Then again, he may be thrown in the loony bin for reporting magical people that lived in a house that nobody could see. Yes, that would go over well.

Clutching a stitch in his side, Remus slowed to a walk. He wasn't sure where to go from here but the least he could do was catch a bus.

The Knight Bus? No, too conspicuous. A fellow wizard may recognize him.

Remus wondered if it was bad that his subconscious was starting to sound a lot like Moody. However, after attempting to marginally improve his appearance - hair mussed, old gray bathrobe thrown over red and gold satin boxers that Sirius had insisted on buying for him and matching old, gray carpet slippers - he joined a young, Muggle woman at the bus stop.

"Hello," she said, glancing up from the book she had been reading, her dark brown hair swinging around to veil part of her face from view.

"Hello," he replied, rather uncertainly. Stop it, Remus, he inwardly berated himself, shaking his head. He was becoming far too paranoid for his liking, next thing you knew he'd be smashing would-be birthday presents, cursing people who looked at him funny left and right. . . .

"I knew this day would come, you know," she continued, as if this were a conversation they'd been having.

Then again. . . . Remus decided to proceed with caution; after all, this woman was a Muggle, she couldn't possibly know who he was! It was not as if anything could be gained by running away, he was completely lost as it was.

"Erm . . . what day?" he asked.

"The day you would come and take me away." A stunned silence followed this proclamation.

"Well miss, I'm . . . I'm afraid you must have the wrong man. I am very sorry." Remus's throat was very dry all of a sudden. He made to walk away, but her hand wrapped around his arm, the long fingers refusing to give way.

"Please, Remus, call me Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth. . . ?"

"Elizabeth Lovegood, actually. I prefer Liz, but I'm sure you'll get the hang of it soon enough." She patted his arm.

"I-I thought Luna. . . ."

"Yes, I'm her older sister."

"But you're . . . you're American!" he exclaimed, recognizing the tell-tale accent. This was making less and less sense.

Liz sighed theatrically. "Well, you see Remus, I was born to a Muggle family in America. I like to think they loved me . . . at first, but when they saw the strange things I could do as a child - accidental magic, you know - they abandoned me. They didn't want a child who could do such 'freakish' things, you see. I was left in an orphanage until I turned eleven and I was told of my true heritage and of my power. Professor Dumbledore once told me he had hardly ever seen a more powerful witch enter Hogwarts. However, they knew I would need training and mentoring that I could not get in a Muggle orphanage. Mr. Lovegood adopted me out of the goodness of his heart and raised me as his own; however I never did adapt to the British accent. But that doesn't matter to you, does it? You'll always love me, won't you?" She finished her speech with a dazzling smile in his direction.

Remus decided to ignore that last bit. "But . . . but if you went to Hogwarts, why did I never teach you? I was a professor there a few years back, you know."

"Oh, you did," she said with an airy wave of her hand, "I know you did. I watched you Remus, all those classes. You were a wonderful teacher, Tuesday afternoons were heaven to me."

"Erm. . . ." Remus wished he could say something more articulate.

"And I knew then, Remus, I knew, didn't you?"

Don't say anything, Remus! But he couldn't help himself. "Know what?"

"That we were meant for each other," she whispered passionately. "That we were two halves of one whole, that you were the peanut butter to my Oreo. That it was only a matter of time until we could start a life together! And now . . . it's finally happening and I have it all planned out!

"We'll get married here." With a tug on his arm, he found himself looking over her shoulder at the book she had been reading - which he now saw looked like detailed wedding plans. "And I'll wear this dress . . . oh and that will be the wedding ring."

Remus briefly wondered how he would afford all this before giving himself an inward head shake. Remus, it's not like you're actually going to marry her!

But Liz seemed to have a different opinion. "And I was thinking for children's names. James would be a good one, maybe Sirius if you really wanted to; for girls, either Saphira or Dora. I mean, if you can't marry her, we should at least name someone after her."

At the moment, Remus neither knew nor cared who this Dora was but he was pretty sure marrying her would be better than Liz . . . or any of the other offers he'd received. What was going on here?

"Then, at the age of twenty-five, I shall be brutally murdered by a gang of savage Death Eaters, hoping to use my magical prowess to bring their master back; and you, stricken with grief, shall follow soon after." She looked up at him, large hazel eyes brimming with tears. "Don't you see, Remus? We're meant for each other!"

Remus had been hearing that a lot lately too.

"I . . . I think not," Remus said, attempting to sound as gentle as possible. It was obvious that the poor girl wasn't in her right mind. She was quite obviously a Muggle - if an imaginative one with far too much knowledge of the wizarding world - who seemed to have this demented fantasy of an older man in a bathrobe coming to marry her.

"Oh, but Remus, we are!" she gasped, sounding pained, eyes widening as his right hand lifted in midair. Screw Moody. "Please, Remus, please, don't!"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I'm not the man you're looking for," Remus said as kindly as he could. "I'm sure you'll meet someone else who's. . . ." What, as crazy as you are? ". . .who's more suitable for you."

"No, no!" she shrieked as, with a bang, the Knight Bus appeared in front of him and a young, pimple-faced youth jumped off.

"Ahem, welcome to the Knight Bus. My name is Stan Shunpike and -"

"Yes, yes I know. Can you please just let me on?" Remus asked impatiently, nodding toward Liz who was now shuddering with sobs, gesturing pointlessly at the bus she could not see.

Giving the poor girl half a glance, the young conductor nodded and stood aside for Remus to board the bus.

"No, Remus, please!" Liz cried as he disappeared into what looked like thin air. "Remus!" The last Remus saw before the next tremendous bang was Liz waving what looked like a stick at thin air, her mouth forming his name over and over again.

"'Oo was that?" the conductor asked curiously, perching himself on the arm of Remus's chair.

Remus, not about to divulge the details of this incredibly strange morning to a pimply adolescent simply settled for, "Old friend." Stan chuckled knowingly, though Remus seriously doubted that he attracted too many women. Now, if only he could figure out why he was.

"Where to then, Mister?" he asked, still chuckling.

"Er. . . ." Now that he was finally safe, he wasn't exactly sure where to go. He definitely couldn't continue hiding for the rest of his life, he had to figure out what was going on. Dumbledore never would have done something like this. . . . Dumbledore. Of course, the headmaster would figure out what had happened within a matter of seconds and this whole grisly morning could be put behind them. As for poor Liz, well . . . there were a good number of mental health facilities available in the Muggle world.

"Hogsmeade, please," he said.

"Alright then, that will be eleven Sickles," Stan said, holding out a hand for the money.

"Oh, er. . . ." Searching through his pockets in what he knew would be a fruitless attempt, Remus attempted to smile at the conductor who was eyeing him suspiciously. "I must have misplaced my money bag, er. . . ." Merlin, Remus, how stupid can you get? He had just escaped his numerous stalkers, only to be thrown out in the middle of nowhere! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Remus, there you are!" A haughty-sounding voice from behind startled him. Turning, he saw that it belonged to a person he had least likely expected to find on the banging and jolting Knight Bus - the aristocratic Narcissa Malfoy.

"He's with me," she said, eyeing Stan haughtily before handing over the appropriate amount. "Leave us now."

Stan looked affronted for a moment but, perhaps thinking it best not to offend a high member of wizarding society - walked back down the bus to sit beside a mildly green woman, patting her hand comfortingly.

"Er . . . thank you," Remus said somewhat lamely, turning to Narcissa who had taken the seat next to his - a green winged armchair. She merely nodded stiffly. Taking the conversation to be over, Remus merely stared out the window at the rapidly changing scenery.

"Is he here?"

He had a bad feeling about this, a very bad feeling. Just don't say anything, Remus. "Erm . . . who?" Damn it.

"Lucius." She nearly whispered the word.

"Your husband?" Her frantic nod was his only response. Studying the beautiful closely, he saw that her pale complexion was distraught, her long blonde hair lank and greasy, her silken robes torn and dirtied.

"Is he here, Remus? Is Lucius here?" she asked, her voice becoming more urgent with every syllable. Leaning forward, she grasped his forearms in her pale, long-fingered hands. "Remus, is Lucius here?"

"No, no. . . ." He wasn't even sure what the words were for - whether to answer Narcissa's question, to stop her frantic hands now tightening around his arms, to banish that entire morning, block out the memory. . . .

"Remus, Remus, please. You must protect me, must answer me. Is he here?"

This last phrase got his attention. "Protect you?" he repeated.

"He's . . . hurt me, Remus. And I'm afraid Draco's going the same way. But you and I, Remus, you and I. . . ." Remus knew where this was going. "We could start a new life together, go into hiding. Neither of us really fit into this world - a werewolf and the wife of a . . . well, I suspect you know what my husband is by now." She laughed dryly.

"And I knew, Remus, even when we were at school. . . ." He found this hard to believe as Narcissa had been in sixth year when he first started at Hogwarts. "You - the scholar in that little gang of yours - and myself, one of the beautiful Black sisters." She almost seemed to cringe at the word Black. "Of course my parents would never have approved and so I met Lucius. . . . And I tried to love him, Remus, I really did but I just . . . I couldn't. . . ." And she buried her face in his chest and began to sob.

Very conscious of the fact that several of the passengers were staring at them, Remus attempted to comfort the distraught woman. Gingerly, he patted her on the back; she looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, R-Remus," she hiccupped. "R-Remus, I knew you'd u-understand." And, before he could even react, she was kissing him. Not again! But she was a particularly fine kisser, he must admit. . . .

No, Remus, she's married, remember? Married to a Death Eater!

He heard a wolf-whistle and, startled, looked up to see Stan approaching them, grinning fit to burst. Narcissa reciprocated his action and Remus took that moment to tear himself away from her groping hands.

"We're at Hogsmeade Station now, mister; if you could just wait until-" The conductor's last sentence was lost as Remus tore past him, dashing toward the front of the bus. Vaguely, he heard Stan's bark of laughter mingled with Narcissa's cry and her hasty footsteps running after him. Ignoring the driver's cry of outrage, Remus forced open the violently purple doors and ran full-tilt down the High Street. "Another old friend, mate?" he heard Stan call mockingly before both bus and conductor disappeared with another violent bang.

But that didn't matter; none of it mattered now. All of Remus's efforts were now focused on one, single thing: get to Dumbledore. Narcissa's cries of "Remus, Remus!" didn't matter, nor did the surprised cries of passerby. Nothing mattered except getting to Dumbledore.

Remus didn't think he had been this determined since his NEWT's when he had desperately wanted an O in Potions. . . . And he had gotten an E.

He could see the gates ahead now; clutching yet another stitch in his side - damn these stalkers - Remus pushed them open, glad to see that they gave at his touch. Satisfied that Narcissa was a good way behind him now, his body relaxed and he allowed himself to walk up the deserted grounds and into the entrance hall . . . which was not as deserted.

"Remus, we meet again," Snape drawled, strutting slowly nearer to where Remus stood, a pair of leather pants draped over one arm while he himself was in a similar ensemble. "Still worried about Black?"

It took Remus a moment to process this. Black? Who was this Black character, was it the crazy Muggle girl? No, no, that was Liz. Oh, wait a moment, Sirius Black? His best friend who had started this crazy morning?

"Snape, I'm not. . . ."

The greasy-haired man merely rolled his eyes and, as if on cue, Sirius and Harry came clambering up the steps from the dungeon - the latter leaning heavily on the arm of the former and wearing a maternity shirt that now read: "I'm Not Fat, I'm Just Knocked Up!", both glaring spectacularly at him.

"So this is why, is it?" Sirius asked, directing his question toward Remus and gesturing flamboyantly toward Snape. "This is your big secret?"

"No, Sirius, it's not like that. . . ."

"Then what is it about?" Sirius demanded. "What else could you possibly have to keep from us, Moony? I mean, I'm willing to give this another try if you are - and if you want Severus, you can have Severus. I mean, James always fancied him but. . . ."

"What?" Snape turned toward Sirius in honest surprise, for the first time showing a trace of his old malevolence.

"Well, yes," Sirius said, twirling a piece of hair absentmindedly. "Why do you think he always wanted to take off your pants, Severus?" Snape placed a hand to his heart and Remus was quite sure he saw the man's black eyes filling with tears.

Remus's mind was spinning, he couldn't take in all of this information. James . . . Snape . . . Sirius. . . . It was just too much! However, through the pounding in his head, one reasonable thought had penetrated, one that had absolutely nothing to do with this complicated series of relationships: get to Dumbledore.

Fighting the powerful urge to sick up at the sight that now greeted him - Sirius Black and Severus Snape gazing raptly into each other's eyes while Harry gazed at the two, misty-eyed - Remus began to inch surreptitiously toward the marble staircase. . . .

"Remmy-poo!"

You have got to be kidding me. Cursing all the deities he knew the names of, Remus glanced up to see Hermione and Ginny descending the stairs on the floor up, Mrs. Weasley following several steps behind, wincing at every step she took in her stilettos. Neither girl seemed too inclined to help her.

Unfortunately, Hermione's screech had caused Sirius and Snape to look up as well. Glancing between Remus, then to the rapidly moving girls, Sirius's eyes narrowed dangerously once again.

"What are you?!" he cried. "Remus, I thought you were a one-man type of guy but now. . . . What do you have a whole harem stashed away somewhere?" he demanded angrily. "Severus, yes, but these -" he gestured distastefully at Hermione and Ginny who were staring back, just as confused.

"Remus, we need to work this out," Snape purred. Harry nodded agreement, wrapping an arm around his most-hated professor's waist. Remus fought the urge to shudder.

"I think they're right, Remmy," Hermione said. "I mean, I never really suspected you were, you know - gay." She giggled at the word.

"Well, everyone knew Sirius was," Ginny interjected. "The amount of time he spends on his hair every day. . . ." She let her sentence trail off with a disgusted look at Sirius.

"But if you're bi-" chirped Hermione.

"Oh, that would be sexy," Ginny crooned, trailing a hand down Remus's bare thigh. Yipping, Remus jumped away from her, only to move nearer to the ascending men.

"Look, erm . . . I'm sure we can talk this out later," he said, strongly emphasizing this last word. "But right now I have an urgent appointment with Dumbledore, really can't be changed, so. . . ." Neither group paid him any attention and Molly had caught up by now, her makeup smeared face grinning broadly, sickeningly. . . .

"Remus, Remus, help me, protect me, please!" A familiar voice sounded from the front doors as Narcissa, doubled-over and clutching a huge stitch in her own side, dragged herself through the heavy oak front doors. "Remus!" she cried passionately, spotting him halfway up the stone staircase. "Remus, what-?"

And, as the crowd surrounding him turned to face the bedraggled woman, snarls on their faces, Remus ran. Breaking through the slight gap between Hermione and Ginny, he sprinted for the stairs, his feet leading him unerringly toward the headmaster's office.

"Remus, Remus, help me!"

"Moony, honey, we have to talk this out. You need to stop running away!"

"Re-emmy!"

But their voices didn't matter, none of it mattered except getting to Dumbledore. Sooner than he had expected, Remus found himself skidding to a halt in front of the stone gargoyle that marked the passage to Dumbledore's office.

"Fizzing Whizbee," Remus gasped at it. However, the gargoyle remained immovable and gave what Remus could have sworn was the shadow of a smirk.

Remus ran a hand through his hair in irritation. "Okay, erm . . . Chocolate Frog, Jelly Slug, Sugar Quill, Pumpkin Pasty, Cauldron Cake, erm . . . Cockroach Cluster, Acid Pop, Honeydukes Best -" he would've had it as a password - "er . . . Pepper Imp, Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, Mars Bar!" He stopped, upon naming a Muggle sweet. But what if. . . .

"Lemon Drop?" he queried meekly. Nothing. And the footsteps and shouts of the others were getting closer now; Molly's winces as she stumbled along in six-inch heels were becoming clearer by the second.

"Come on!" Remus yelled. "Ice Mice, Droobles Best Blowing Gum, Blood Lollipop! Argh, I don't know!" The man kicked at the statue in sheer frustration. "Oww! Just tell me the bloody password, why don't you? It's important!" They were even closer now, probably only a corridor away . . . but the gargoyle merely laughed.

"You know what, screw this and screw Dumbledore!" Remus cried, banging a fist futilely on the gargoyle and nearly falling face-forward for at the words 'screw Dumbledore,' the gargoyle had - quite reluctantly - swung forward to reveal the spiraling stone staircase leading to Dumbledore's quarters.

"Remmy!"

Remus scrambled in just as Hermione's heavily madeup face rounded the corner. The last thing he saw were her chocolate-brown eyes, filled with disappointment before the gargoyle closed behind him. Remus sprinted up the spiraling steps, euphoric that he was about to discover the solution at last, that this whole morning could be put behind them and be forgotten forever - except in the realms nightmares.

Perhaps if Remus had been in a fitter state of mind, he would've considered the password slightly strange compared to the headmaster's usual candy fixation. He may, too, have noticed the long, pitch-black robe flung over several steps; and, if he had seen that, he probably would have waited for Dumbledore's permission to enter.

However, unfortunately for him, Remus barged into the headmaster's office, not having noticed any of these things.

"Professor Dumbledore," he said, plunging into the room. Then, "I . . . er. . . ."

"No trouble at all, Remus," Dumbledore said pleasantly from where he was lying on the top of his desk. "Tom and I have just been expecting you." The other wizard, who was straddling the old headmaster, his red eyes alight with pleasure, beckoned to him.

"Come, dear boy," Dumbledore said, winking. "Why don't you join us?"

Remus could hear Sirius's shouts and Narcissa's mournful howls from downstairs; he could see Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkling at him and one of Lord Voldemort's long, pale fingers beckoning to him. . . . What was there to say? Choking out something that was somewhere between a laugh and a sputter, Remus finally allowed himself to sink into blissful oblivion. . . .

And he woke to a wet tongue on his face.

Note: So, did you like it? Huh, huh, huh?! Bit of a sick ending, I know, but I can't help it! It's what happens when your boyfriend happens to have a very sick (and weird) sense of humor. And that boyfriend had better read (and review!) this fic or I shall not talk to him. Ever. Ever. Again.

OK, I will. But still, please (to everyone)?

Coming Soon: I'm going to be working on a chaptered story called Distorted Reflections. What happens when a Harry Potter fan reads the seventh book but soon discovers that, not only is their world real, but everything that has happened, is a lie? Dun, dun, dun.

I'm going to wait until I know where the story's going to post the first chapter/prologue of it, though so it may be awhile.

Lizzy Lovegood