YOU'RE A WEREWOLF.

A TIMID KNOCK on his office door drew Professor Lupin's attention. He held in a groan, figuring it was one of his colleagues or even Snape coming to check on him and make sure he really was going to feel like teaching the coming Monday. However, when he looked up, he realized he wouldn't be met with McGonagall's mothering tone or Snape's spiteful one.

Ivy was standing in the doorway with a sheepish smile on her face and a small wrapped box in her hand.

"Ah, Miss Arora, how can I help you? I'm surprised you aren't out on the first Hogsmeade trip." Remus stated, sitting a little straighter and trying to hide the exhaustion on his face.

He failed.

"Oh, I'll go and meet my friends in a little bit," she told him, stepping into his office. As she got closer, she saw that Remus looked positively dead on his feet, with deep eye bags and a sickly complexion. She also thought there might have been a new, healing scar on his neck, but she gave it no thought as it reminded her of the embarrassing conversation with Val about the teacher. "I just wanted to check on you. Professor Sprout said she figured you'd be back on Monday, but I wanted to make sure."

"Ah, getting a bit tired of Professor Snape?" he asked, smiling wryly. Ivy flushed a bit, knowing that practically every student was ready for his return. "I may not look it, but I am improving."

"That's wonderful! I do hope you feel well enough to make it to the Halloween feast tonight. Um, and well, I was in the kitchens the other night—" Ivy hesitated, remembering that students weren't actually allowed in the kitchens, but Remus didn't seem like he cared. "—and I was making some cookies. I thought you might like some. They're chocolate chip, and I've heard from Harry that you rather like chocolate."

"That's very sweet of you, Miss Arora," Remus said with a genuine smile. Ivy matched it and finally walked over to his desk and set the package of cookies in front of him. She held back a happy laugh as he immediately took the lid off and grabbed a cookie.

But the laugh died down as she spotted a few things around the cluttered office.

"Professor Lupin?" Ivy asked hesitantly with her eyes scanning the books and bottles and calendar on his desk with very specific dates marked.

"These are positively delicious. Really, I know you're smart enough to go into any field, but opening a bakery should definitely be one of your options," Remus praised, his mood significantly improved with the treats. Too bad Ivy was about to ruin it.

"What are you doing with Wolfsbane potions?" she dared to ask. Very few potions had the same milky-blue sheen of the potion that Snape had taught them to brew two years ago. She also knew that Werewolves were meant to take the potion once a day for the week leading up to a full moon. There were seven bottles lining a shelf, and seven identical empty bottles piled up on the end of his desk.

"Miss Arora," Remus said in a tight voice. He watched her carefully, not expecting his day to go this way. "I simply—"

"That's why Professor Snape taught ahead to Werewolves for the third years," Ivy mumbled. She wasn't usually one to interrupt, and never to a teacher, but she couldn't help it. She suddenly had an answer for Val about how he got those scars. "And the full moon was just two days—"

"Miss Arora," he said again in a cautious tone.

"You're a Werewolf."

Remus slowly rose from his chair and watched Ivy carefully. Her wide eyes had drifted to the floor, and clearly, she was thinking deeply based on her furrowed eyebrows. The professor couldn't believe she had correctly inferred that he was a monster after a few short minutes in his office.

"I suspect you'll go run and tell all your friends that they're being taught by a dangerous beast."

Ivy sharply looked up at him and thought for another moment before lightly shaking her head. "No, I mean, I shouldn't tell anyone. I won't. Dumbledore obviously must know, or else you wouldn't have been hired."

"You don't look very frightened, Ivy," he noted while opting to use her first name.

"You don't look very frightening, Professor." Remus couldn't help but snort, recalling countless times his friends had assured him he wasn't a monster. "H - how, I mean, were you born one? Or..."

"No," he answered as Ivy trailed off, obviously not wanting to directly ask about how he was attacked as a child.

"Well, is there anything I can do to help? I know it's not exactly a pleasant process," she said, chewing on her lip. Pleasant was the exact opposite of the Werewolf transition every month.

"If you insist, I have never and will never turn down the offer of chocolate chip cookies," he said with a chuckle. The Hufflepuff was too sweet for her own good.

"Of course," she said, grinning. "But I mean, I know Werewolves aren't dangerous to other animals during the full moon, right?"

"Something tells me that your cat would not appreciate you offering her services to accompany me during my transitions," Remus said, shaking his head. He had met Ivy's pet, Fish, wandering the halls. He was quite sure the small, skittish feline would run at the first sight of him.

"Oh, I didn't mean Fish," she said, rocking back and forth on her feet. "Well, what if, hypothetically—"

"Hypothetically what?" Remus asked, knowing full well that when someone used that word in that tone, they meant literally and were just avoiding admitting something the best they could.

"That's something that, like, an Animagus could help with."

Remus was suddenly having flashbacks to his fifth year of school where three young boys were asking similar questions. They had also had similar sheepish expressions on their faces before revealing what they had been working two years to achieve.

"Miss Arora," Remus said, crossing his arms, "other than Professor McGonagall, there are no registered Animagi at Hogwarts."

Ivy, in an attempt to avoid eye contact, took one of the cookies and broke off a small bite to eat. "Right. Registered."

"Exactly, and I can't imagine why the smartest witch in seventh year who is a Prefect with not a single detention on her record would ever do something like become an unregistered Animagus," he continued, walking around to the front of his desk and leaning on it.

"I mean, maybe she was just bored last summer and found a book in her father's office," she mumbled, fiddling with her fingers. "And she didn't think he'd let her do it with his permission, so she did it anyway."

Remus held back a laugh, finding her reaction quite humorous. "It's probably best not to go around telling people about that, even if you are offering someone your help. I appreciate the offer, Ivy, but I would never endanger the life of a student just to ease the strain of turning each month."

"So, you aren't going to tell the Ministry about me?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"You're not the first unregistered Animagus I've met," he said, chuckling. "I'll keep your secret in exchange for you making me those chocolate chip cookies each month."

Ivy grinned brightly and nodded her head. "You got it."

| | |

"I can't believe you've made us late for the feast."

Upon hearing the approaching voices, the dark figure quickly retreated into an alcove of the castle, hiding in the shadows and ready to shift into his Animagus form at a moment's notice. Striking gray eyes watched as two girls who were now familiar to him came around the corner.

They weren't in uniform after spending a day in Hogsmeade. The blonde Slytherin girl was instead dressed in a warm, green sweater and tight jeans while her companion wore a white cardigan and an orange skirt with bats embroidered around the hem to celebrate the holiday.

Sirius's eyes never left the brunette girl's form, taking in everything from the smile on her glossy lips he knew smelled like strawberries to the dainty rings she wore on her fingers to the way her skirt brushed the tops of her thighs where her stockings stopped.

"Well, I wanted to finish wrapping the presents I bought for HJ. He was really upset about not getting to Hogsmeade. Stupid Dursleys wouldn't sign his permission slip, and McGonagall wouldn't let it slide," Ivy complained. "But I got him lots of sweets, so maybe that will cheer him up."

"I mean, maybe it's for the best he isn't allowed to go," Val said. "There is a mass murderer out for his blood." The supposed mass murderer tensed up from his hiding spot in the shadows. "Potter should know it's not safe for him to leave the castle."

"I don't think he actually knows about how Black was involved in his parents' death," Ivy admitted quietly.

"Well, he'll find out eventually whether Malfoy says something to rub it in his face or Dumbledore explains it to him," she said, shrugging. "I swear, everyone here shelters him too much. He's got a right to know all these things. Maybe you could tell him."

"Yeah," she said, scoffing. "And while I'm at it, maybe I can add the fact that less than six years ago, my parents — the ones he's definitely had dinner with — totally wanted him dead for killing the Dark Lord."

"Ah, but they don't want him dead now, and that, my friend, is character development," Val said in a somewhat teasing tone. Then she bumped Ivy's shoulder and smiled comfortingly. "C'mon. Let's go enjoy the Halloween feast. We can smuggle some meatloaf out for your fluffy little friend."

As the two girls walked around the corner and disappeared, a small part of Sirius longed to follow — he found himself often wanting to be around Ivy. Of course, he couldn't actually be around her, not really, not as himself. The sweet Hufflepuff girl had no clue she was feeding the Azkaban escapee, that she had cuddled a man everyone thought was a Death Eater and a murderer, that she spilled secrets to him sometimes like he was a second diary.

Ivy and her friend had no doubt reached the Great Hall by the time Sirius crept out of the alcove. He shook all thoughts of the girl from his mind, remembering the real reason he had snuck into the castle — why he dared to do such a dangerous thing. He made his way towards the Gryffindor common room with one thing on his mind.

Murder.

| | |

"How about Snuffles?"

Ivy was out near the Black Lake with the dog, and they were both lying on a blanket that Ivy had cast with a warming charm to keep the fall chill at bay. While feeding him some bacon, she tested out the name. Upon hearing it, the dog instantly perked up.

"Snuffles," Ivy said again, grinning as he responded. "I think it's a great name. My Defense teacher said he once knew a dog with that name. Went to him for advice about taking care of dogs. He doesn't have one, but Werewolves and dogs are, like, basically the same, though he seemed to adamantly disagree with that."

The dog, now dubbed Snuffles, tilted his head almost like he was listening intently. "Oh, don't tell anyone he's a Werewolf," Ivy added as a joking afterthought. Then she grabbed one of the strips of bacon and ate it for herself. "He did know a couple of things to make sure I don't feed you though, like grapes and garlic and onions and stuff. Bacon's still good though."

Snuffles leaned over and snatched the remaining half of the piece of bacon in her hand and ate it, earning a laugh from her. Ivy scratched behind his ear and looked down at the Muggle book that Hermione had lent her called Little Women.

Even after the bacon ran out, Snuffles stayed by Ivy's side, enjoying his time with her. Though their nice afternoon together was interrupted by a very upset third year approaching.

"What the bloody hell are you doing out here all alone?" Draco Malfoy practically shouted as he marched over to Ivy.

She simply looked up at him with a smile. "Hey, Dray. I'm reading."

"You shouldn't be out here, let alone by yourself," he reprimanded, crossing his arms like a parent scolding a child — which looked rather amusing.

"Snuffles is right here," she said, nodding to the dog that Draco had failed to acknowledge.

"Right, and that scrawny little dog is gonna fight off Sirius Black," he said, rolling his eyes. Then he took a seat next to her on the blanket. "It was only two days ago that he broke in. You really should head inside."

"It's fine, really," she assured him. "I can see a few Dementors from here. And what happened to all that big talk about you not being scared of Black? Or was that just you showboating in front of HJ?"

The tips of Draco's ears went red from embarrassment as he rolled his eyes. "Pft, 'M not scared. Just here to protect you, obviously."

"So brave. Just like a Gryffindor," she teased, earning a playful shove from the younger boy. "What have you been up to?"

"I was searching for you actually," he said, becoming a bit shy. "I, well, I was wondering if you could tutor me in Potions for a bit. Snape wrote my father about my last test grade and he was furious. Worried he might send a howler if it happens again."

"Of course, I'll help you, Draco. I love Potions and I'm also no stranger to howlers from parents."

"What are you on about? You've never gotten a howler. You're the perfect student," he pointed out.

Ivy couldn't help but laugh. "I forget you've only been here a few years. Up until about my fourth year, my parents were a nightmare."

"Really?"

"Tell me, Dray, when you picture all the stories your father has told you about the great and powerful Lancaster and Arora families, am I what you picture?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not exactly," he mumbled.

"I am literally the only person in my family to ever not be sorted into Slytherin on both sides. Not even an aunt or a distant cousin went to another house. The howler I got from my father the next day sent me running from the Great Hall sobbing," she recounted, sighing. "Overheard Sprout in the corridor with McGonagall saying they hadn't heard one that loud since, well, since Sirius Black got sorted into Gryffindor. I got howlers for missing a few questions on a test. I got them for making friends with non-Purebloods. Thankfully, after a few years, they stopped — gave up I guess."

"I mean, I know they're still strict about your grades, but Father goes on all the time about how the Aroras have become soft these last couple of years," Draco admitted. "Never pictured Ishaan and Cordelia as the type to send howlers about who you're friends with, though."

Ivy knew what "soft" meant, and so did Draco. They slowly began to move on from their blood-supremacist views. They accepted their daughter's house and her friends. They still struggled with it sometimes, and her parents definitely weren't good people, but they weren't quite bad either.

"Our parents are still more alike than you think," Ivy said, running her hands through Snuffles' fur.

"I wish I had your parents," he muttered. Draco was probably one of the only students at Hogwarts who could say that and mean it, unfortunately. "I wish I was different from mine sometimes. I'm gonna end up just like mine."

Ivy sat up on her elbows and gave Draco a stern look. "Draco Malfoy, you are not your father. Do you know how I know that?"

After a moment of staring down at the grass, he mumbled out, "How?"

"Do you remember last year when you called Hermione that horrible word?" His shoulders fell and he nodded his head at the memory. Next to Ivy, Snuffles glared at the boy, knowing exactly what word they were talking about, but neither human noticed. "And do you remember how we talked about it, and you admitted that you only did that because your older Slytherin friends made you feel like you had to? But then I took you to Hermione and you apologized because you really did feel bad. And I know for a fact you haven't used that word since. You even were worried about the ones that were petrified last year. Do you remember?"

"Yeah," he said softly.

"Lucius Malfoy would never apologize for something like that. He'd never change the way he acts," Ivy told him. "And he'd never have friends that are Half-bloods, which you have several of. You may still be a mean little thirteen-year-old with an attitude problem and a superiority complex, but you are not like your father. You're better than him."

"Thank you," Draco said, feeling comforted by her words. "And I'm sorry if I upset you by talking about your parents. I know you hate thinking about the things they've done."

"I learned a long time ago to not let my parents and their past behaviors upset me," she said, though there was a frown still on her face.

And Draco easily spotted it. He cut his eyes to Snuffles, who had been listening in, and jerked his head. "Go on, dog. Comfort her. You're supposed to lick her face or something like that."

Now, Sirius's pride and the fact that he didn't want to act like an actual dog all the time had kept him from doing that very action. Ivy simply thought that Snuffles was a dog who was not overly affectionate. However, when he saw the small pout on Ivy's face as she lolled her head to the side to look at him, his resolve began to crumble.

"Can I have a kiss, Snuffles?" she asked in a terribly cute voice.

Swallowing the last of his pride, Snuffles shuffled over and licked across her cheek. The action may have felt ridiculous and even a bit demeaning to him — he could practically hear James Potter's teasing jokes — but seeing the grin on her face and hearing the happy laugh leave her mouth was worth it, and so he licked her nose. Her face scrunched up as she scratched behind his head and then hugged him around his neck.

"Thank you, Snuffles," she said politely. "So, when do you want to start your Potions revisions? I'm sure not right away as your first match against Gryffindor is coming up — assuming your arm is healed enough to play. It looks like the weather is going to be just dreadful too."

"My arm should be fine, but I'll let Flint know to expect bad weather," Draco told her. He hadn't had to wear that ridiculous sling for some time now. "Am I to assume you'll be cheering against me?"

He asked in a joking tone, but Ivy knew how jealous he often got of Harry. She reached over to ruffle his hair — which he had stopped gelling back after a suggestion from her at the end of last term. "I will be wearing a Gryffindor scarf and a Slytherin pin to support all of my friends."

"Scarf's more noticeable than a pin," he grumbled childishly. But he also knew she had more friends on the Gryffindor team than on his. "I'll take what I can get."

"Want me to sit with you at breakfast that morning to make up for it?"

"It's the least you could do, honestly."