Chapter 1
Remus realised he was awake with his eyes still closed, the sounds of birds up with the dawn filtering through the cracks in the boarded windows along with pale shafts of light that burned red stripes across his eyelids. He tried to shift slightly, to straighten his crooked back and was met with a searing pain that tore through his chest and ripped the breath from his lungs. Fuck, he thought, white spots now blooming where the red stripes had been. Fuck.
Somewhere in the cloud of pain he heard a creak: a foot on a stair; and a rattle: a wand at a lock, and a voice:
‘Oh! Oh my dear. Oh dear -’
*
When he awoke again, he was distinctly more comfortable. He could feel the crispness of his pyjama trousers and the softness of the mattress beneath him. Cool, clean, the smell of soap and murtlap. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the dimly lit room, grey light sliding between cracks in the curtains. Still morning. Or morning again.
He moved his hands slowly, reaching for his chest and finding it tightly bandaged, but relatively painless. He rolled his shoulders experimentally and tried to lift his head, his heart jumping as he caught a glimpse of dark hair at the foot of his bed.
‘Sirius?’ he croaked, the hoarseness of his voice taking him by surprise.
The head lifted. Not Sirius. He could see now - hair too short, too wild - it was James’ face that was looking back at him, his sleepy eyes suddenly wide.
‘You’re awake!’ James staggered to his feet, his chair scraping along the floor behind him. ‘He’s awake, Poppy!’ James called, pushing back the curtain, bumping the end of the bed, still clumsy from sleep. Remus gasped, clamping his teeth together in an attempt to cover it, as a sharp pain radiated up his leg, and James whipped round, his hand over his mouth in horror.
‘Sorry! Sorry!’ he said, hurrying up the bed, ‘Sorry, Moony. Are you alright?’
Remus was spared from replying by Poppy, who bustled around the curtain, pulling it back fully and waved her wand across his face.
‘Hmm,’ she said.
‘What is it?’ James asked, ‘What's wrong?’
‘Nothing new, Mr Potter,’ she snapped, ‘As I said yesterday, Remus is going to be here for a little while, whether you're sleeping at the end of his bed or not.’
It took Remus a few seconds to register what she had said, the words drifting into his brain and taking a while to settle. Yesterday, she'd said, a while. That wasn't right. That wasn't normal - not anymore anyway -
‘What happened?’ he rasped, eyes on James, who met his gaze and looked away.
‘Bad moon, I'm afraid dear,’ Poppy answered, now resting a hand on his forehead, her brow furrowed. ‘Nastiest one for a long time,’ she waved her wand across him again, ‘Chest wound, broken ankle, and a bad scratch on your face.’
Remus watched James as she spoke, he seemed intent on studying the pattern on the hospital blanket. Remus shifted slightly, managing to dislodge one arm from beneath the sheet, reaching for James' hand.
‘James?’
‘Right I want you to drink this,’ Poppy said, ‘All of it please. It will send you back to sleep, and you, Mr Potter, can get off to your first lesson.’ She held up a glass beaker, the potion inside cloudy and thick looking.
She held the glass to his lips, propping his head from behind as he accepted the drink.
‘Now then, a couple of minutes and you'll be back off to sleep,’ she raised her eyebrows at James.
‘I’ll go,’ James said quickly, ‘I’ll just say bye and then I'll leave,’ he tried for a grin, but even through the fog in his head, Remus could see it wasn't a real one.
‘Ok,’ Poppy replied, eyebrows raised as she turned away from the bed, ‘Two minutes.’
Remus watched as James paused, his eyes on Poppy as she moved back across the ward, through the door to her glass fronted office. Finally satisfied she was far enough away, he looked down, meeting Remus’ gaze.
‘What happened?’ Remus said again.
James bit his lip. Even through the haze of pain potion, Remus was starting to feel a heavy sense of dread. Something wasn't right. Something bad had happened -
‘I’m sorry,’ James whispered, ‘I’m so sorry. But it's going to be OK. I've seen Dumbledore. He's sorting it -’
‘James -’
‘And -’ James hesitated, the crease between his eyebrows a canyon, ‘And, look. I’m furious, I am, and I'm not speaking to him. But I think he - I don't know what happened - I don't think he -’
‘James -’
‘I don't want - you don't need to worry, OK? It's going to be fine.’
Remus gazed up at him, his eyes moving across James’ terrified expression. It was reminding him of something, but he couldn't quite - James’ face was usually happy and relaxed, mischievous maybe, but this look - Remus had seen it somewhere before -
Suddenly an image pushed itself to the front of his mind. James. His face that exact picture of terror, and another boy with long dark hair - but again, not Sirius -
‘Snape?’ Remus said, as the boy in the memory turned towards him, his eyes wide, his mouth open in a scream, the long earthen corridor they were standing in barrelling away from them, filling in the rest of the picture. Remus felt his heart stop.
‘No -’ he looked at James, who held his gaze and he squeezed his hand.
‘It’s going to be OK,’ James repeated, his voice shaking, ‘It’s going to be OK.’
*
‘Have you got the answer to number seven?’ Remus looked across the table at where Sirius was staring back at him, his quill between his teeth.
‘Where do you go?'
‘Huh?'
'When you're ill. Every month, where do you go?'
Remus hesitated, Sirius was looking at him, his grey eyes bright and curious. He glanced across the table to where James and Peter were absorbed in their own textbooks.
'- the hospital wing -'
'But you weren't there last night.'
'I was, I -’ Remus broke off at the look of triumph on Sirius' face. ‘What do you mean?'
‘I had to go, got hit with a hex on the way back to the Common Room, it was pretty late, shouldn't have been out but couldn't stop puking slugs so had to go to Pomfrey and admit it.'
‘I must've been asleep,’ Remus shrugged.
'All the beds were empty,’ Sirius said, ‘The curtains were all open. There was no one there at all.'<
&I was there,’ Remus said again, ‘Maybe the slugs interfered with your vision.’
'Maybe,’ Sirius grinned.
'Have you got the answer or not?’ Remus repeated, eyes on his homework as he cursed his hot cheeks and prayed Sirius wouldn't notice, ‘To seven?’
'Armadillo bile.’
'Good, same.’
'You can tell me, you know? You can trust me,’ Sirius whispered.
Remus looked up again. Sirius' head was down, his quill scratching across his parchment, as if he hadn't spoken.
*
Remus awoke slowly, becoming gradually aware of his body, the coolness of the sheets against his hot skin, the softness of the pillow on the back of his neck. He shifted slightly, feeling the stiffness of his muscles and remembered: the hospital wing, James, Snape - his eyes snapped open.
Peter was sitting in the armchair by the bed, his sandy head between the pages of a comic book.
‘Pete -’ he said, struggling to push himself up in the bed, his hand slipping on the rail beside him, his chest aching.
Peter jumped slightly, dropping the comic book over the arm of his chair, and sitting forwards. ‘Hey!’ he said, ‘You ok? Here -’ he rose, pushing the pillows behind Remus, settling him into a sitting position. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Crap,’ Remus said, ‘Listen, James said -’
Peter’s smile faltered, his own hands coming up to grip the edge of the bed, ‘It’s OK,’ he said, ‘James has been up to see Professor Dumbledore. He's not - Snape - he's not going to say anything.’
Remus’ stomach dropped. So it hadn't been a bad dream after all. That memory, of James at the end of the tunnel, dragging the other boy by the arm. Horror stretched across both of their faces -
‘I need to get up,’ Remus said, his arms bracing the bed rails. He pulled his legs up, his ankle did feel better, ‘How long have I been out? How long have I been stuck here?’
‘Listen,’ Peter began, ‘I don't think - you're supposed to be resting. Pomfrey said the wound was -’
‘How long Pete?’
‘This is day four -’
Remus turned to look at him, searching for the lie. Four days. Four days. The whole school would have known by the end of the first. He was surprised the Ministry wasn't at the door. Or his parents - oh Merlin, his parents. His mother weeping, his father furious. They'd send him home, away from his friends, away from - he had to get up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pushing himself forwards, standing for a second and then slipping, falling -
‘It’s OK,’ Pete was saying, his arms wrapped gently round him as he pushed him back onto the bed. Remus’ chest hurt with each breath, the air rattling through his lungs. ‘Don’t panic,’ Pete’s voice trembled as he said it,, ‘It’s OK -’
‘How -’ Remus managed, clutching at his pyjama shirt pulling it away from the burn in his chest.
‘Dumbledore,’ Peter began, ‘James said he had spoken to Snape and sorted it out -’
‘No,’ Remus rasped, ‘How did he find me - how did he know -’
Peter looked up at him, his eyes round, his lip between his teeth. A bead of red pooled around the bite, staining his tooth pink as he hesitated, as he held out. Not saying. James' words ran through Remus’ head, ‘I’m furious, I'm not speaking to him, I think he - I don't know what happened - I don't think he…’
‘Pete -’
‘Remus, maybe we should wait - James said he'd be by after practice - won't be long now -’
‘Please Pete.’
‘It was Sirius.’
*
His parents had come. His mother weeping, his father furious. Remus had sat between them in Dumbledore's office, barely listening, their words drifting through his head like the clouds he could see through the window. The boys involved were being dealt with, the Headmaster had said in his soothing voice, there was no danger to Remus now, the matter was all in hand. His father had wanted to know how anyone had found out in the first place? Why had the boy from Remus’ dorm had a secret to tell? Who had told him? He’d asked the question again and again, his eyes on Dumbledore and then, after a while, on his son.
Eventually, they'd left. A nod from his father and a brief hug from his mum. Dumbledore had given Remus a sympathetic look and suggested he spend another night in the hospital wing. Remus had shaken his head.
A little while later, James found him, curled up in a window seat on the fifth floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, gently scratching at his new scar through the fabric of his shirt. The wound hurt less now, but as it had scabbed over, the itching had set in.
‘We should go to Pomfrey, she'll have some cream.’
‘I’m fine.’
James climbed into the seat opposite, fitting his legs carefully around Remus’, making sure this time not to knock his sore ankle.
‘He’s not up there at the moment,’ James said, ‘He’s been staying out late. You can come up now and be in bed before -’
‘I’m fine.’
‘I do think he's really sorry.’
‘Don't.’
James stopped talking, his eyes lingering on Remus for a moment before drifting to the window. A few students, way below them, moved across the lawns, unrecognisable specks from where they sat in the tower. Remus watched them as they hurried towards the castle, their scarves blowing out behind them in the wintery breeze, and tried to resist the urge to scratch at his chest again. To claw open the wound and rip out his own heart. He wondered if that's what the wolf had been trying to do.
‘Do you want to get some dinner? It'll be quiet now.’
‘Not hungry,’ Remus lied.
‘Let’s go via the kitchen,’ James said, understanding. ‘C’mon.’
Peter was there when they got back, lying on his stomach on the floor, his bitten tongue half out as his quill scratched across the roll of parchment. He sat up as they entered and smiled nervously when he saw it was them.
‘Want a snack, Pete?’ James asked, dropping the box of treats onto his bed, and sitting down beside it, ‘There’s doughnuts.’
Peter scrambled to his feet, coming to sit opposite James, one hand rummaging in the box and then stopping suddenly, looking up at Remus expectantly.
He sighed, crawling onto the bed beside them and leaning back against the headboard. ‘I’ll have a sandwich.’
He chewed slowly, letting the flavour of cheese and pickle fill his mouth, feeling the sandwich slide down his throat, settling uncomfortably in his empty stomach. He watched James and Peter, squabbling quietly over doughnuts and homework, and tried not to notice so keenly that someone was missing.
‘You haven’t missed that much, Moony,’ Peter said, misreading his mind and turning to him, ‘Almost nothing in History anyway, and you’ll catch up with the rest really quick.’
‘Lily said she’d switch seats and sit with you in potions,’ James added, brushing over why he might be in need of a new partner. ‘She’s got good notes.’
Much later, sandwiches eaten and essays written, Remus found himself lying in his own bed, the curtains drawn. He could hear Peter snoring softly over to his left, and James had turned his lamp off long enough ago to also be asleep. Remus however, could not. Perhaps it was the four days worth of sleep he had just had in the hospital wing, or the fact that his chest still hurt too much to lie on his side, the way he preferred, or -
The sound of a door opening pulled him from his thoughts, and he stilled, holding his breath. Soft footsteps padded across the room and into the bathroom. A toilet flushed, a tap ran. A minute later, more footsteps and the creak of a bedspring, the rattle of a curtain ring. Silence. Remus exhaled slowly and tried to will himself to sleep.