Doctor's Note: This one-shot popped into my head after revisiting Severus Snape's story. He and Remus Lupin share many similarities in the rough circumstances they both face. I feel they might have been friends under different ones. Please review and enjoy! - Dr. Mini Pie

Little-known Hogwarts fact: If not reserved for a class or an outside event, the Great Hall was left open throughout the day for anyone to use. For students seeking a secluded place to study, the Great Hall topped the list—often it ranked even higher than the library, since it was normally associated with food for the stomach rather than for thought.

Occasionally an odd couple snuck in to snog under one of the plain and empty tables; and a stray Prefect would now and then pop in to check the status of her House's points (hopefully she'd miss the snogging). Beyond that, it was rare to find anyone there.

With two days 'til exams, three days 'til full moon, and four days 'til the Christmas holiday, one madly stressed Remus Lupin was especially grateful for this expansive—and at present gloriously decorated—quiet. His rowdy friends would barge in sooner or later, no doubt. But it always took them the longest to find him here.

He had his textbooks and parchment spread far across the wide tabletop, legs crossed beneath him on the bench, and was lost deep in thought. The Charms theory he was reading ran together in his head with the lyrics to one of his mum's favorite songs.

"I'll find you in the morning sun…and when the night is new…"

A sudden cough echoed through the Hall. Remus's head shot up and his stiff neck twinged with pain. With a thrill of mortification, he realized he'd been singing aloud.

On the other side of the table, sitting much closer than the echo had made it seem, was Severus Snape.

He seemed to be studying, too—at least he was bent over his own pile of parchment. What was odd to Remus was the lack of a sneer or snide comment. The Hall had been vacant when Remus had arrived; Severus must have come in after, and heard him singing.

Then again, Remus observed, that was not always Severus's attitude. Only when provoked.

Remus had a sudden urge to say hello—and found that he possessed a great deal more courage when his friends weren't around.

"How are you?"

"…Alright."

"Are you hungry? One of the house elves brought me this."

"You don't want it?"

"I'll have a bit of it."

"…okay. Thanks."

"Sure—thank the elves.

"And thanks for not saying anything when you came in."

"About what?"

"My, er—singing."

"What song was that?"

"Oh. Er, just something my mum sings all the time."

"I've heard it before."

"Have you?"

"I think he's a wizard." Severus looked Remus sharp and square in the eye, challenging him to deny it.

"Who? Jimi Hendrix?" That's what they'd been talking about—music generally, mostly Muggle stuff, and they'd more or less camped out in the 1960s.

Severus nodded, 'obviously' written all over his face, but he reined it in.

"I suppose you could be right," Remus offered. He tore off another chunk of the loaf of cranberry bread that rested on the table between them. "He's got the wardrobe for it."

"No Muggle could play the guitar like that," said Severus with stubborn finality. "His fingers move too fast—he's too effortless, too casually skilled. I reckon he's got his wand hidden in his guitar. Hearing him you know he's got to be in touch with magic—"

Remus swallowed. He supposed now was as good a time as any to add, "I've never heard him play, to tell you the truth."

Severus cut off mid-treatise. He gaped. "But you—"

Remus shrugged, faintly embarrassed. "'Course I know The Beatles, but my mum mostly listens to trad music. And my dad—all his albums are classical."

"Don't you have a radio?" asked Severus, almost angry.

"Just one, at home."

Severus looked away. He glared for a very long time at his schoolbag. Remus kept eating the bread, endeavouring to make the silence a bit less awkward.

At last Severus drew his schoolbag up into his lap, plunged a skinny arm into it, and very carefully produced a tall, thin sleeve of bright yellow. He pondered it for a moment before holding it out to Remus.

Startled, Remus took hold of the record. Beneath a photo of Jimi Hendrix and his group, in purple psychedelic lettering, were the words: "Are You Experienced". Remus turned it over and checked the date. 1967.

"First edition?" he asked, impressed.

"First album, first edition," said Severus. "Bought it the summer it came out."

Remus glanced up at Severus, who was luminous with pride though he fought to hide it. Severus was a half-blood like him, with one foot in the life of a Muggle and one in the wizarding world, never fully belonging in either. The pure-blood crowd with whom Severus ran would scorn him fiercely if they knew he carried a Muggle album around with him. They would destroy it out of spite.

"Far out," Remus said, handing it back. "Thanks for letting me—"

"You can borrow it," Severus blurted out.

"What?"

Both boys blushed. Remus went on hurriedly, "Only I haven't got a record player here, I'd have to take it home over the holiday."

Severus shrugged in his twitchy manner. "Yeah, alright."

"But it's yours, it's first edition—it's special."

"You've got to hear him play," Severus demanded. "Just give it back when—" He seemed to think of something, and he grimaced a little. "Don't show anyone, give it back right when you get back."

Remus understood—he wouldn't let his friends know he had it, much less inform them that he'd borrowed it from Snivellus. The nasty moniker grated against his conscience.

"Don't worry," he assured Severus with a gentle voice, for Severus appeared quite uncomfortable. He added with only a dash of irony, "I can keep a secret."

To prove it, Remus picked his wand off the table, pointed it at the album and muttered an incantation. The cover warped from sunshine yellow into a sad tinge of yellow-grey, and "Are You Experienced" became "Are You an Expert in Common Vegetables?" beneath a drawing of three oddly-shaped swedes.

"It's illusory," Remus explained, tucking the album into his own schoolbag. "It'll wear off by the time I get home."

"Yes, I know," said Severus. Remus was shocked to see a tight smirk stretch across Severus's face. "Swedes?"

Remus grinned. "Perhaps something less wildly exciting might have been more appropriate."

Above them the Enchanted Ceiling had faded to dusk. More and more of the floating Christmas candles sputtered to life, and out in the corridor students' voices began to drift past.

"Best be off," Remus said, rising to his feet. Before they find me. "Thanks again, mate. Really. Good luck on exams—oh, and Happy Christmas."

Severus crammed his own affects into his bag. He squinted up at Remus and said, "…you as well."

With a final, quick smile, Remus departed. Severus finished cleaning the table. Remus had left the bread.

Hogwarts had become a veritable ice castle over the break. Snow rested in piles and drifts as tall as two metres, and it continued to fall. Hagrid, a permanent outdoor fixture, re-shoveled the path to the main entrance to give returning students passage.

In spite of feeling like he'd freeze to death any minute through his shabby cloak, Remus was happy. His friends were waiting up in the Gryffindor Common Room—he'd missed them, like always, beyond words.

"Hullo, Hagrid!" he called, risking frostbite with a wave of his poorly gloved hand.

Hagrid raised his mammoth arm to shield his eyes from the glare of sunlight on snow. "Alright, Remus? How was yer holiday?"

"It was brilliant, thanks." Remus stopped on his way up the path. "Need help?"

Hagrid shook his great head and laughed. "Yer liable to end up frozen out here. Yeh look half-froze already—get inside, will yeh?" He gestured. "Go on!"

"I will," Remus nodded. "See you later, Hagrid!"

Indeed, it took Remus a good ten minutes to pound the snow out of his boots and brush it from his body and trunk. He stood in the entryway and trembled all over. Merlin, he craved the Common Room fireplace, but he had to thaw out a bit more before he could climb the stairs.

As he rubbed his hands together, Remus got the feeling that someone was watching him. He looked down. Lounging on top of his trunk was a slender black cat.

Most animals could sense what Remus was and were quick to run the other way. This cat, however, did not seem bothered; on the contrary, when Remus acknowledged it, it flicked its tail and purred.

Bemused, Remus fell to one knee. He extended an icy hand, and the cat pressed its head into it. Remus scratched its ears.

"Do you know what I am?" he asked it softly. It kept purring. A black cat…who wasn't afraid of him…had Sirius managed over the holidays to—

It was then Remus noticed a note tucked into the cat's collar. He fussed with the collar a bit to get it out. "Sorry," he muttered. The cat remained unperturbed.

The note read, in narrow and spidery letters:

Bring R.U.X. to the library. – S.

Of course—the album. Remus stuffed the note in his pocket. He gingerly lifted the cat off his trunk—it still purred—and dragged it off with him down the corridor.

But Severus wasn't in the library. Remus searched all over, even stealing a swift look through the Restricted Section, with no luck. The cat had followed him; it had resumed its idle perch on his trunk.

Perplexed but finally a bit warmed up and eager to see his friends, Remus pulled out the note. He smoothed it out against a table, flipped it to the blank side, and drew a quill from his other pocket.

Album was marvellous. Loved "Red House". Mum not too keen on some of the lyrics! If he's not a wizard, he's got magic, most probably. Thanks again, R.

He certainly hoped this was Severus' cat, for he placed the album—re-enchanted to look like an ordinary booklet, this time entitled, "Are Yew Trees Ideal for the Climbing Experience?"—on the table and set the cat on top of it.

"There we are," he said once he had secured the note beneath the cat's collar.

Remus looked one final time about the library. There was a lot he'd like to talk about. But Severus was nowhere in sight, and Remus's friends waited for him. He gave the cat one final pat on the head, heaved his trunk over the threshold, and was gone.

A minute later, Severus ducked into the library. He extracted the note; read it carefully; balled it up and threw it away. He scooped his cat into one arm and lifted the album, examining it. The tight smirk appeared again. The cat mewed—he set it on his shoulders.

"Lily says he's the kind one," Severus said after a while. His cat purred.

He swept out of the library.