1972
The last full moon could not have come at a worse time.
Not that Remus had much choice in the matter. If it were up to him, he’d rather not have to deal with them at all. But, as things stood, it fell on a Friday night which meant that he would most likely spend all of Saturday bedridden. The timing couldn’t have been worse, with homework piling up.
After eight months at school, he finally felt like he was starting to settle into it. His grades, average at first, were starting to become good and he was on track to be one of the ten top students of his year. But still, balancing his work, his friendships and his “condition” proved a challenge.
It wasn’t just that he hated lying. He lived in constant fear of being found out. But also, though he was thankful to Dumbledore for making the arrangements, for allowing him to get an education, he found that waking up after the transformation in a cold, abandoned house—far from his parents, or anyone who would offer the comfort of unconditional love—left him homesick in a way he hadn’t expected.
It didn’t help that the wolf grew stronger and more restless as he got older. Two moons ago, he’d broken his wrist and, last time, the wolf had left him with a nasty scar that snaked from his rib all across his stomach and down to the opposite hip. As she was treating him the morning after, Madame Pomfrey had looked at him with pity on her face. She often tried to hide it, but Remus had grown into an expert at recognising that expression in others. She had explained that the scar, being caused by a magical being, would most likely remain on his skin for the rest of his life.
So, Remus hated every full moon. But he despised the ones that fell on the weekend especially more. While he did not enjoy missing class, his friends had gotten into the habit of sharing his notes with him when he did.
Particularly Lily Evans, a muggle-born girl who he had grown close with due to their shared love of reading and had now cultivated a friendship that consisted mostly of book recommendations and complicit looks when one of their classmates said something dumb.
But when the full happened on a weekend and he was forced to lay in bed, the ache from the transformation was accompanied by the ache of missing out. He could picture his friends laughing together in their dorm, sharing pranks and running around the castle.
He was afraid, deep down, that they would realize how much fun they could have without him. That they would look around after a prank and find that they didn’t miss him. That, maybe, in the midst of their fun they wouldn’t even notice that he was gone.
As far as they knew, Remus’ mother was ill. That was the lie that his father had come up with and the headmaster had agreed would be best. But he worried, even months later, that his friends would soon become suspicious.
He hadn’t even had time to become their friend before he had to start lying to them. The first full moon at Hogwarts happening only four days after they arrived.
Not knowing how to approach the subject, and scared that letting them all know together would lead to questions, he had decided to confide in Sirius. His first friend.
They’d shared a compartment on the train, though not by design. Sirius had burst in with a grin, as though they were old friends instead of two boys who had met briefly a few months before.
“Remus!” Sirius had shouted, dropping onto the seat beside him without hesitation. “Good to see you again!”
Remus blinked, surprised Sirius had remembered his name. “You too.”
A boy with messy black hair and glasses followed Sirius in, grinning widely. “I’m James. James Potter.” He thrust out a hand before dropping into the seat across from Remus with a thud that should have felt rude but somehow wasn’t. There was something undeniably charming about him.
Sirius introduced James as his new friend from the platform. His second friend at Hogwarts , he had said with a wink at Remus. Peter Pettigrew joined them soon after, James introduced him as one of his friends from back home. By the time the train reached Hogwarts, Remus’s nerves had mostly melted into laughter.
By some twist of fate, they were all placed in Gryffindor. In the days that followed, they got to know each other and grew closer. James was loud and full of energy, and Peter tagged along, happy to be included. But Sirius was different. He seemed to float through Hogwarts with a confidence that amazed Remus. Sirius never seemed homesick and never hesitated to joke or take charge.
His smile had dimmed only on their second morning at school. During breakfast, a large brown owl came swooping down and left an envelope right on top of his toast.
If Remus hadn’t been paying attention, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the way Sirius eyed the letter with apprehension. The confident mask he had worn since the train ride slipped if only for a second. James, who Remus would later learn was not particularly tactful had asked who it was from.
“My parents, I reckon,” Sirius murmured, opening the envelope. “They’ll be furious about my sorting.”
He read over the words quickly and, before any of them could ask anything more, shoved it into his pocket and threw them a smile.
But it was slightly off. It looked similar to the smile his mum threw his way every morning after the full moon, a glimmer hiding a whimper.
In the days that followed, as they all adjusted to living away from home, Remus witnessed how close James and Sirius became. They had so much in common and seemed to finish each other’s sentences.
As close as James and Sirius had grown to be, though, Remus didn’t feel left out. Sirius often turned to him mid-conversation to make sure he was laughing along.
Sirius, curious about everything muggle-related, bombarded Remus with questions. Some were absurd— did muggles really struggle to read? Remus told him about his mother’s career as an English professor before his birth. Other questions, whispered and wide-eyed, carried a genuine wonder: What did muggles do for fun? What did they eat for dinner?
Even James, who had developed an unsubtle crush on Lily Evans would come to him with questions about muggle life. Remus didn’t have the heart to tell him that his efforts seemed to be futile. Whether it was due to a loyalty to her best friend, Severus Snape who quickly became enemy number one in their dorm, or because she disliked how arrogant James could be, she didn’t give him the time of day and often rolled her eyes when he spoke.
Remus was happy to indulge them. Among his friends, it was the one area where he had the upper hand. All three of them had been raised in fully wizarding households. Sirius and James were naturally skilled, brilliant and quick to show off their knowledge in class. But when it came to muggle life, Remus was the expert. And having Sirius’ attention, in particular, felt nice -- special.
It was that thought—that Sirius might notice his absence—that had driven Remus to pick him, to explain his excuse, his lie, that he was expected to carry for the next seven years of his life. On that first Friday, as they walked to the Great Hall for dinner, he cleared his throat.
“Sirius,” he said, trying to sound casual.
Sirius hummed in acknowledgement, even though he seemed especially focused on kicking a rock all the way to the Great Hall. Remus was grateful for this game Sirius had invented as it forced him to slow his pace. With barely three days to go to the next full, his body aches were starting to become a problem.
“I’m going home this weekend, just wanted to let you know”
Sirius suddenly stopped. It might have taken Remus a few seconds to notice if he hadn’t been so laser-focused on his reaction, checking to find any sign of suspicions. As it was, when Sirius stopped Remus paused his walking and turned around to look at him.
Sirius was staring at him with wide, startled eyes “Why?”, Sirius asked, “Did something happen? Did we do something to upset you?”
“What? No!” Remus was so startled by the response that he almost laughed.
Sirius’s expression shifted to something like panic. “But… don’t leave, Remus. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“Um, thanks?” Remus started, and though he might not be brave enough to admit it, it truly did mean more than Sirius could understand. To know that he was wanted, that he would be missed. “I just meant that I am leaving for the weekend, I’ll be going home but I’ll be back on Tuesday.”
“Oh,” there was a blush on Sirius’ face, and he tried to hide it by looking down at the floor, “Any particular reason?”
“My mum is sick,” The lie felt worse than he imagined it would come out of his mouth, “A muggle illness. I have permission to visit her every few weeks”.
He had practised in his head how to say it. Had messed around with the wording. How to tell a lie to make it sound convincing? A lie that had to be sturdy enough to last, ideally, for seven years. He said every few weeks because it was less evocative than once a month. Once a month was, to Remus, almost a synonym for every full moon .
And still, with as little details as he had given, Sirius threw a sympathetic look his way. “That’s awful,” he said. “I’m sorry, Remus. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thanks,” Remus said quietly, smiling through the guilt.
As they approached the Great Hall, Remus added, “Could you let the others know while I’m gone? I’m bad at these kinds of conversations.”
Sirius nodded, and for a moment, he looked almost pleased. It had only made the guilt in Remus’s stomach grow heavier.
Eight months later, the full moon was still proving difficult.
The fresh scar across his stomach would not stop itching no matter what he put on it. Since he had to spend his Friday night howling at the moon against his will, and the scar had left him bedridden most of Saturday, he had only had Sunday to work on his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay due on Tuesday.
As far as Remus knew, professor Mcgonagal, Pomfrey and Dumbledore were the only members of staff aware of his condition. This meant that, regardless of when the full moon fell, he was to return to class as soon as he was physically able to and hand in all of his work on time.
He was trying his best and, so far, had managed to do so for the entire year. The essay on how to treat a doxie infestation might be the one to finally break his streak.
That is why, in spite of the constant itch, and the way his eyes kept threatening to close, Remus found himself firmly sat in the library, where he had been for the past four hours since his Monday lessons ended.
He was aware that dinner had come and gone, the sun along with it. And he could hear the murmurs of other students grow quieter and quieter as they retreated to their dorms to sleep. But Remus knew that he still had at least thirty minutes till curfew and he was determined to hand in his essay on time. He still had about twenty inches left to write.
Madam Pince, the librarian, would occasionally approach his table to let him know the time. She was a nice woman, one Remus had grown to like after spending so much time in the library. He seemed to gravitate towards the same table every time; it was right by a window overlooking the lake. The light, in the afternoon, came through the window perfectly acting as a spotlight on his books and parchment.
“There you are,” he heard a voice behind him and turned around. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Sirius pulled out the chair next to his, not bothering to minimize the noise, earring himself one of Madam Pince’s famous shush. He grimaced and sent an apologetic smile her way.
“I’m surprised you knew where the library was.”
“Ha,ha”, was Sirius’ sarcastic reply. “What are you doing here? You missed dinner.”
His last statement was followed by him pulling out a couple of mince pies wrapped in a napkin.
He didn’t say anything but Remus wasn’t surprised. Sirius seemed larger than life sometimes, excentric, self-centred. He could command the attention of a room without trying and Remus was aware of how many rumours circulated about him on a daily basis.
He was popular . Even as a first year. His attitude, his snark and his extroverted ness had led to his general image of carelessness. He did well on every test, even though no one saw him study. He got along with almost every professor, even though he would not stop talking in class. He was often late. Usually irresponsible. And almost always loud.
Through the months, though, Remus had come to learn that there were very few careless things about Sirius. He put thought into his work, he took care of his things. And, most importantly, he was incredibly caring to his friends in the most quiet ways. He never said anything about it and pretended it wasn’t happening if someone drew attention to it.
But he made sure that James took his glasses off before falling asleep. He walked next to Peter, a protective hand on his shoulder when they passed the older Slytherins who seemed to enjoy teasing him. He had punched Mulciber when he made a crass comment about Mary Macdonald, even though she was nowhere near when it happened, and then he made Marlene Mckinnon promise not to say anything worried that Mulciber’s comment would make Mary feel bad.
And he made sure Remus ate enough. He took notes for him when he was off “visiting his mother”, he explained the rules of quidditch when they went to see the first match so that he wouldn’t feel left out. And he told him everything he missed whenever he was away, down to the most mundane details, so he wouldn’t feel excluded.
“What are you working on?”, Sirius asked, grabbing the piece of parchment while Remus started to sneakily eat one of the pies, so as to not alert Madam Pince. “Is this the essay for tomorrow?”
A groan escaped Remus and he banged his head against the table. He hummed in acknowledgement.
“You know it’s not graded, right?”
“I know,” he looked at him then, “But I’ve turned in every essay before.”
“Exactly, Professor Raywood isn’t going to care if you miss one”, Sirius pleaded with him, “I’ve missed like ten of these”
“But I’ll care,” Remus explained, he got up and started pacing, needing to get some of the energy out. Sirius looked at him, a question hanging from his lips, “I know you guys think I’m a swot. But I like that I do well in school. I like that the teachers have high expectations for me.”
“We don’t think you are a swot,” Sirius huffed a laugh but at Remus’ look, he amended, “Okay, maybe a bit of a swot. But a likeable one.”
Remus smiled for a second. He looked out the window. Of course, it was raining. A second later, he felt someone standing by his side. He turned his head slightly and found Sirius staring back at him.
He sighed. “I know that it might seem stupid but this is important to me. And I didn’t get a chance to work on it this weekend while I was away,” he looked down, always finding it hard to look at Sirius when he lied, “And I still have to start on the essay for McGonagall due this Friday. And I’m hungry and I’m tired. And it’s raining.”
“It’s Scotland. It’s always raining.”
“Yeah, but it’s May 1st”, Remus said. Forgetting, for a second, that that would mean next to nothing to Sirius. A look at his confused face confirmed it. “It’s Calan Mai ”
Before Sirius could ask what that was, Remus decided to open the window, allowing them to hear the rain falling. They both looked out at the lake or what could be seen of it under the clouds.
“In Wales, there’s this old belief,” he started to explain, “that if it rains during Calan Mai which is meant to signify the start of summer, then we are in for a crappy summer.”
“And they believe that?”, coming from anyone else, the question would be rude. But Remus knew that Sirius was, well, seriously asking. He seemed to want to know everything he could about muggles.
“Some of them do,” Remus nodded. “It is mostly an old tale. But they traditionally light bonfires on top of hills to chase the bad energies and spirits away. To make sure the summer is good.”
“Sounds nice,” Sirius murmured.
Soon after, Madam Pince came over to tell them that their curfew was almost there and they better run back to the dorm. They did so in a companionable silence. Remus thinking about what he could add to his essay to make sure he could complete the assignment.
When they made it to their dorm, Peter’s curtains were closed; a clear indication that he was already asleep. And, from the sound coming from the bathroom, James was in the shower.
Remus started heading towards his bed when he felt Sirius grab his arm. He turned to throw a questioning glance his way. But, instead of saying anything, Sirius turned right around, went over to his bedside table and pulled a roll of parchment from his drawer. Without a word, he handed it to Remus.
The boy unrolled it and read:
How to deal with a Doxie infestation
By Sirius O. Black
Before he could say anything, the name underneath the title disappeared. And was quickly replaced by his own. When he looked up, he found Sirius with a smile on his face and his wand in his hand.
“I can’t accept this,” Remus said while trying to hand Sirius the roll back. Sirius would not take it.
“Sure you can,” Sirius shrugged, “You wrote it.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Look,” Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders then, a determined look on his face, “You have your reputation as a swot, I have my reputation as a handsome rebellious leader. You’d be doing me a favour, really”
Remus rolled his eyes at that which made Sirius smile.
“I can’t be seen handing in the homework on time,” he continued. “And I can’t promise that it won’t rain or that it won’t be a shitty summer. But I can do this. Okay?”
“Okay”, was Remus’ response. He looked Sirius in the eye then. And tried to convey, with one look, just how much it meant to him. Not just the essay. But to be a witness, a recipient of such selflessness. To be cared for in such a quiet and unsuspecting way. He didn’t know how, or if he would ever, be able to express it.
But for now, he just said “Thank you”. He hoped it was enough.