Duj hilarity
Duj is like Marionros's secret twin sister or something, and I knew she had an FFN account, but I'd never really looked at it until today.

A Bludger to the Gut: "reflection-fic", as I call it - where the entire thing is just one character angsting internally or contemplating their love interest. This one is Snape wangsting on about how Dumbledore appointed Lupin as DADA teacher and how bad his youth was. Also, speaking in an oddly Shakespearean tone.

He hired Lupin – and offered me as a sop the chance to teach Defense three days of every month, three out of thirty.

How can I revolutionise the study of DADA when it’s not mine to command, when I’m only the substitute? An unappetising sop indeed, a sop that chokes me! After all these years of service still he trusts the wolf more and will hear no word against him.

Yet I’m too starved to refuse it. I’ll take that tenth of my desire and pour into it all that it can hold. I’ll fill it to capacity with my expertise, just as I did with Lockhart’s dueling club last year. Maybe the little brats will actually learn some of the skills they’ll need to survive.

And if he will not guard against betrayal I’ll guard for him, as I did when Quirrell held the post two years ago. This time, I know from the start whom to watch, whom to follow. If I must work alone I’ll work alone. Have I not always done so? And yet, not quite alone. A word with Filch would be opportune perhaps. He can do little himself but be my other eyes, yet even that may be enough.

Turncoat: two drabbles.

Fortune favours the quick-witted. When I saw Dumbledore arrive, I realised this was my chance. Destroy the prophecy as I had destroyed the Horcrux, let myself be taken – Azkaban without Dementors is a safer refuge than most – and establish my alibi for any Death Eater crimes committed after my incarceration.

Translation aided by the a/n: Lucius hoped the diary would be destroyed eventually when he gave it to Ginny, and he destroyed the prophecy on purpose because he thought Azkaban would be a safe place. (You know ... the prison that drives people insane.)

The Marauders were never my real pack, just a temporary substitute. Granted, they became Animagi for me, but true friends would have become werewolves, my brothers all month round.

Then Padfoot sent me Severus. A poor substitute, but better than none. Only Prongs wouldn’t allow it. I was his tame werewolf; he didn’t need two.

Lupin killed Sirius! Yes, it wasn't Bellatrix. Madness, madness.

NB this was written after HBP, the book of "woe I am a monster like those other werewolves I suck".

Wrong: Uses bb!Remus as a mouthpiece for "there's no dark magic" wankery.

James had never asked himself this question. It was too obvious.

“Dark spells are for hurting.”

“A lot of hexes hurt but we still use them. Like the Conjunctivitis Curse, would you call that dark?” Remus was leaning forward as if he could stare into James’s soul.

“It only hurts a bit. Besides it’s temporary.”

A pale hand with ragged nibbled nails stabbed at him.

“What if you did it on someone who couldn’t undo it, like a Squib or a Muggle? Or a baby? What if you kept renewing it till it made them go blind. Would it be dark then?”

“You’re making my head hurt.”

Rich pickins, my friends.