Eclipsed

The night of the April full moon arrived, and James, Sirius, and Peter prepared themselves as usual to support Remus through his transformation. As the moon rose, they transformed into their Animagus forms, and waited behind the door, as Remus had always asked them to do, for the transformation to be complete. They expected the usual routine: a wild run through the forest, playful chasing, and, eventually, a return to the Shrieking Shack to rest before the sun rose again. However, this night was different.

The werewolf didn't show the usual signs of wanting to run and play. Instead, he stayed close to the fireplace in the Shrieking Shack, curling up into a tight ball. Whenever Padfoot or Prongs approached, he snapped at them, baring his teeth and growling.

Padfoot, with his typical playful demeanor, nudged the werewolf with his nose, and let out a playful bark, hoping to spark some semblance of their usual roughhousing. But Moony replied with a low growl, a warning more than a challenge, and a snap of his jaws, the threat of a sharp bite to Padfoot’s snout if the dog were to get any closer. He yelped and backed away, his tail tucked between his legs. Prongs watched from a distance, his antlers lowering in confusion, ready to intervene if he had to. Wormtail, always cautious, stayed near the walls, his small form trembling.

The behavior was bizarre. Normally, during the full moon, Moony, the werewolf, thrived in the wilderness. He reveled in the freedom of movement, the thrill of the hunt, the unspoken bond with his friends who ran alongside him in their animal forms. But tonight, instead of the usual excitement and energy, there was a sense of brooding and agitation. Padfoot tried again, barking softly, trying to entice the werewolf to play. The werewolf snarled and snapped again, making it clear he wanted to be left alone.

The rest of the night was an unsettling dance. James and Sirius, their animal instincts tempered by human concern, kept their distance, watching over their friend with a mixture of worry and confusion. The usual playful chases through the forest, the exhilarating hunts, the comforting closeness – all were absent, replaced by a heavy silence broken only by the howling wind and the occasional growl or snap from Moony.

As dawn approached, and the first rays of sunlight peeked through the grimy windows, a sense of exhaustion, both physical and emotional, settled over the Marauders. Remus, his transformation ebbing away, curled up on the floor, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Sirius transformed back quickly, and threw a blanket over his boyfriend’s body while James took a seat on the couch, his vision quickly dissipating as he went back to human form.  .

"That was… strange," James murmured, his voice low.

Sirius sat next to him with a sigh. "Yeah, understatement of the century."

Peter came up beside them, blinking the dust out of his eyes. "Do you think… Maybe it's the type of full moon taking a toll on him differently this time? He has weird moons… like the blue moons, or harvest moons, the eclipses… maybe this is one of those?"

Sirius nodded grimly. "True. Maybe it's just a one-time thing."

Peter looked at the clock. “Shit. We’ve got to go, lads, it’s almost time for Pomfrey to show up.” Peter quickly transformed back, and hopped into James hand on the couch. James and Sirius pulled the cloak over themselves and headed out, just in time to pass Pomfrey in the tunnel on her way to collect Remus. 

Although they’d all been a bit thrown off by the wolf’s strange behavior, Remus’ reappearance in class later that same day, looking slightly haggard but otherwise back to his normal self,  seemed to assuage any substantial concerns the boys might have had. The events of the previous night, shrouded in the hazy fog of post-transformation exhaustion, seemed like a distant dream.

"Alright, Moony?" Peter asked, glancing up from his Herbology notes that evening in the dormitory.

Remus offered a tired smile. "Just a bit worn out. Moons, exams are getting close, you know."

James and Sirius nodded in agreement, their earlier concern temporarily pushed aside by the ever-growing pressures of seventh year. They launched into a discussion about upcoming assignments, effectively burying the strangeness of the full moon under a layer of academic anxieties, worries over James’ dad, and dreaming about the future. 

While Remus’ excuses worked for a couple more days, Peter, the most perceptive Marauder, wasn’t completely convinced. It wasn't just the usual post-transformation exhaustion that followed the April full moon. T

Their schedules didn't overlap as much in seventh year, now that their gen-eds were complete, but Peter and Remus always seemed to run into each other at the library or in a secluded corner of the common room, now even more often than before. Instead of the usual focused intensity Remus had displayed while studying over the past six years, Peter often saw him staring vacantly into space, eyes glazed over, eyebrows drawn together. Sometimes, he'd find Remus fast asleep sprawled on a couch, in the middle of the day, a textbook lying forgotten on his lap, despite Remus' earlier assurances that he was going to class, or catching up on missed work.

Peter’s first approach was to speak to Remus directly. Although their friendship had changed since Remus and Sirius started to date, they were still very close, and Peter thought he could get a straight answer out of him. When he saw his friend sleeping on the common room couch on a Tuesday at 2PM, when he definitely should've been in class, Peter took his chance.

"Remus?" he said gently, nudging him with his shoulder.

Remus startled awake, blinking rapidly as if disoriented. "P-Peter? What... what's going on?" he stammered, pushing himself into a seated position.

"Just… checking in," Peter mumbled, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Don’t you have a class now, Moony?” 

Remus' smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of something akin to panic crossing his features. But just as quickly, the mask snapped back into place. "Just tired, Pete," he said breezily. "Full moon took a lot out of me this time. I’ll speak to Professor Binns tomorrow about what I missed."

Peter wasn't convinced. The forced cheer in Remus' voice rang hollow, and the dark circles under his eyes spoke volumes. Besides, the moon had been almost two weeks ago now, and at this point in the cycle, Remus was usually feeling his strongest. 

Remus, however, expertly evaded any further attempts at real conversation, quickly deflecting by asking Peter questions about his own research projects and applications. Peter, unable to break through the carefully constructed wall, found himself backing down, a nagging worry gnawing at him.

Despite having been caught sleeping in the middle of the day, Remus claimed exhaustion and headed up to bed early, and with Lily and James taking care of prefect business in the head office,  Peter and Sirius were left in the common room alone. 

"Sirius," he began, his voice barely a whisper, "there's something wrong with Remus. He's been… different lately. Spacing out, falling asleep… it's not like him."

Sirius, hunched over a mountain of parchment related to his Healer program application, looked up, his brow furrowed. "Different?" he muttered, his voice distracted.

"Yeah," Peter pressed. "I tried talking to him, but he just brushed it off. Sirius, do you think you could… maybe have a chat with him? See if he'll open up to you?"

Sirius, stressed from the ever-growing workload and the worry about James' father's continued hospitalization, paused. "Maybe you're right, Pete. But you know Remus, he's not one to share his problems easily."

"Exactly," Peter said, his voice filled with frustration. "That's why I thought maybe you, as his… well, you know…"

He trailed off, not wanting to explicitly mention their relationship in the middle of the common room. Sirius, however, understood perfectly.

"Right," he said, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I'll try to talk to him, see if he opens up."

Relief washed over Peter. With Sirius on the case, he hoped Remus would finally get the support he so desperately needed.

The following week blurred into a whirlwind of activity for Sirius. Applications for the prestigious St. Mungo's Healer program were due very soon, demanding meticulous essays, glowing recommendations, and nerve-wracking interviews. On top of that, his NEWT workload intensified, demanding long hours in the library poring over complex potions recipes and deciphering intricate charms theory.

The weight of Fleamont's continued hospitalization added another layer of stress. His condition, though not critical, seemed to waver, and James' frequent updates, laced with a quiet worry, gnawed at Sirius' heart, not only on James’ behalf, but his own, since Fleamont had taken him in and treated him as a son without question over a year ago. 

Sirius found himself falling into a pattern of avoidance. He hated difficult conversations, and Remus, ever the private one, offered no openings, his usual easy smile masking whatever turmoil brewed beneath. His lies, honed by years of hiding his condition, were effortless and believable to the untrained eye. Sirius, caught in the whirlwind of his own anxieties, found it easier to believe those lies than delve deeper, even though he knew Remus' tells very well.

Every time he saw Remus, the opportunity to talk slipped away. In the library, Remus was surrounded by mountains of books, a picture of focused study. In the common room, he was lost in conversation with Lily, a faint smile playing on his lips. Each time, Sirius told himself he'd catch his boyfriend alone later, after dinner, during a break between classes. But later never came.

About a week later, after a day spent hunched over Healer application essays, N.E.W.T Potions assignments, and a hard day assisting in the infirmary, Sirius found himself staring at the ceiling of the common room, a familiar pang of guilt twisting his gut. 

With a final glance at his textbook, Sirius took his things and headed up the stairs. He crept into their dorm room, the moonlight casting long shadows across the floor. There, curled up in his, lay Remus. Usually a restless, active sleeper, he looked so peaceful, and Sirius felt trapped in the moment. Moonlight streamed through the window, bathing his face in a soft glow. His normally furrowed brow was smooth, and the tension lines around his eyes seemed to have softened. He looked younger, more vulnerable than Sirius had ever seen him.

A pang of guilt stabbed at Sirius' heart. He had promised Peter he'd talk to Remus, that he'd try to figure out what was going on, but the distractions of his own life had gotten in the way. Now, here was Remus, clearly exhausted, and Sirius didn't want to be the one to shatter that fragile peace.

He considered waking him, starting the conversation he'd been putting off. But the exhaustion radiating from Remus held him back. What if Remus just needed sleep? What if talking could wait until the morning, when they were both more refreshed? With a sigh, Sirius stripped off his clothes, careful not to disturb his sleeping companion. He slid into the bed beside Remus, the familiar warmth enveloping him. 

Tomorrow, Sirius told himself, we’ll talk tomorrow.

 A warm sunbeam, thick with the promise of a lazy Saturday, peeked through the grimy Gryffindor dormitory window, landing squarely on Sirius' face. He groaned, burying his head deeper into the pillow, the remnants of his pre-sleep promise clinging to the edges of his consciousness.

Suddenly, a voice, bright and cheerful, shattered the morning quiet. "Sirius! Remus! Come on, sleepyheads! I need your help!"

Lily Evans, looking vibrant in her sunshine-yellow robes, stood by the foot of their four-poster bed, a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes. Sirius, with a resigned sigh, peeked out from under the covers. Remus, however, remained stubbornly tucked away, his breathing the only sign of life.

"Lily, it's Saturday," Sirius mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "The only thing we need to do is avoid Filch's nasty cat."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Actually, you need to help me convince James to come down to the Quidditch Pitch."

Sirius blinked, a sliver of awareness cutting through the fog of sleep. "James? At the Quidditch Pitch? For what? I don’t think he’s been to a game all year.” 

Lily nodded. "I know, I know... But listen, I have a surprise for him. And I need your help, you and Remus, to get him out of the castle and onto the pitch in like… maybe an hour or so?"

Sirius glanced towards the unmoving form beside him. Remus, usually an light sleeper, remained cocooned in the blankets. A flicker of concern tugged at Sirius' heart, momentarily overshadowing the task at hand.

"He's tired though," Sirius began, "he's been so tired, and look at him sleeping like a baby. Don't make me ruin this!"

Lily huffed. "I know... but Sirius, it would mean the world to James, I just know it, if we can pull it off. Please?" 

Sirius glared at her for a moment before turning to his boyfriend." 

"Moony love," he said gently, shaking Remus' shoulder. "Wake up... Lily needs our help with James."

The movement was rewarded with a muffled grunt, and then, after a long moment, a sleepy head emerged from the blankets. Remus' face appeared, and to Sirius’ distaste, it seemed a bit thinner than usual, with dark circles hung beneath his eyes.

"James?" he rasped, his voice rough with sleep. "Why are-?"

Lily quickly repeated herself, and from the onset, Remus had declined, attempting to roll back over into his cocoon. 

Sirius felt a wave of frustration, but before he could say anything, Lily stepped in.

"Come on, Remus," she said, her voice laced with false cheer, and a slightly authoritative tone. "Just a little walk down to the pitch. Some fresh air will do you good too, you know. Don’t think I haven’t seen you skipping out on prefect meetings ‘cause you haven’t been feeling well."

Remus hesitated, his eyes flickering from Lily to Sirius. 

"Alright, Evans," Remus finally conceded, his voice weak. "We'll come. Just let us… get dressed."

Relief flooded Lily's face. "Brilliant! Thank you so so much, both of you. You won't regret it, I promise."

With a final mischievous grin, Lily skipped out of the dormitory, leaving Sirius and Remus alone. As Sirius watched Remus pull himself out of bed, his movements slow and lethargic. Shirtless, he could see Remus' ribs more than before, and in a bold moment, he sighed and remembered his promise to Peter. 

"Moony, darling," he started, his voice hesitant. "I’ve been meaning to ask…"

Remus, pulling on his shirt, stopped and met Sirius' gaze. His eyes, usually bright with intelligence, seemed clouded and cold.

"Later, Sirius," he said, his voice strained. "Let’s talk later. Lily and James are waiting.” 

Sirius, swallowing his concerns once again, nodded mutely, putting on a little smile. There was a very impatient Gryffindor and a big surprise waiting for them.   

A tense silence hung heavy in the Gryffindor common room as Sirius and Remus exchanged nervous glances. James, perched on a window seat, was oblivious to their covert planning. Sirius nudged Remus gently with his elbow.

"Alright, Moony," Sirius muttered, his voice low. "Operation Get-Prongs-Off-His-Arse is a go."

Remus offered a tired smile. "Charming code name, Pads."

"Hey," Sirius said defensively, "it's efficient and it gets the point across."

They found James curled up in an armchair by the window, headphones on, with his wand tracing a page of the assigned History of Magic readings for the week. 

"Alright, Prongs," Sirius said, his voice overly enthusiastic. "Lovely morning, isn't it? 

James’ lips curved into a wry smile. "Padfoot," he said, removing the tip of his wand from the page. "Don't tell me you and Moony have finally decided to join the living world before noon."

Remus chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Believe me, Prongs, it's news to us as well.” 

Sirius stepped in. "It’s such a glorious Saturday morning! Perfect for… well, any outdoor activity, wouldn’t you say!"

James' head snapped up, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face as he removed his headphones. "Outdoor activity? What are you on about, Padfoot?"

"Thought we could stretch our legs a bit," Remus chimed in, his voice as neutral as he could manage. "Maybe take a walk around the grounds, get some fresh air."

“Now I’m suspicious… When has either of you ever wanted to do any outdoor activity? Especially you, Remus.” 

Remus at least had the decency to look a bit sheepish, although it was lost on James. 

Alright, Prongs," Sirius boomed, with theatrical cheer, of course. "Enough studying. Today's the day for adventure!"

James perked up at the playful tone, which was infectious, especially coming from Sirius.

"Adventure, eh, Padfoot?" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "What sort of adventure are we talking about?"

Sirius chortled. "Much more pleasant than that, mate. Open air, sun on your face… the smell of… well, maybe not fresh grass, but definitely something."

Remus, ever the voice of reason, interjected before James could conjure up an image of the less-than-pleasant Quidditch pitch aromas. "Whatever Padfoot has planned, James," he said, "I'm sure it involves some level of physical activity. Are you up for it?"

Although James wasn’t in the shape he’d been in when he was playing Quidditch five days per week, he’d been keeping up on his running, if not with Sirius, than with Lily, who had a surprising level of endurance for someone who'd only ever played sports on their primary school team. 

"Alright, you two," he conceded. "You've piqued my curiosity. Lead the way."

Sirius offered his arm, and gave a silent nod and exaggerated wink towards Remus. The unspoken plan was clear – they'd guide James down to the Quidditch Pitch without revealing the surprise or mentioning Lily's involvement. James took Sirius' arm, and the three headed out. 

As they stepped out of the castle and onto the sun-drenched grounds, James inhaled deeply. The crisp morning air, tinged with the earthy scent of damp grass and the distant aroma of woodsmoke, filled his lungs.

"Alright, Padfoot," James said, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "Where are we headed?”

Sirius, suppressing a grin, kept his voice vague. "Just a little further, Prongs. You'll know it when you feel it."

Their walk continued, a comfortable silence punctuated by the chirping of birds and the crunch of gravel under their feet. 

A wave of cool air, laced with the familiar tang of grass and leather, washed over James as they stepped onto the Quidditch Pitch. He stiffened, refusing to take another step further. 

"Where… where are we?" James' voice was taut, a hint of suspicion underlying his usual optimism.

Sirius, his heart hammering in his chest, reached out and squeezed James' shoulder. "Just relax, Prongs," he said, his voice light, but James shook him off. 

"The Quidditch Pitch?" he said, his voice laced with a mixture of surprise and a hint of bitterness. "Why in Merlin's beard are we here, Sirius?"

Sirius exchanged a worried glance with Remus. The disappointment in James' voice was like a punch to the gut. He'd hoped the fresh air and a change of scenery would lift James' spirits, not dredge up painful memories.

"Just… thought a bit of fresh air might do you good, Prongs," he stammered, his usual bravado failing him. "Clear your head, you know?"

James sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken emotions. "Fresh air, huh?” He was quiet for a moment. Finally, he spoke again, a tremor in his voice. "Alright, Sirius, this joke's gone far enough. Let’s go back now. Please.” 

A pang of guilt washed over Sirius. This wasn't supposed to be a painful experience. Just then, a figure emerged from behind the stands, her voice bright and cheerful.

"James!" Lily's voice rang out, cutting through the tension. "Surprise!"

James whirled towards the sound of her voice, his brow furrowed. "Lily?”

“I asked them to help me get you out here, James,” she said, walking forward and taking his hands in hers. “I’m sorry to have upset you.” 

“It’s– What are you doing here?” 

“James," she began gently, "I know things have been tough lately, with Fleamont being in the hospital, the applications feeling so overwhelming, and…"

She trailed off, but the unimpressed look on James' face forced her to finish the thought.

"I just wanted to surprise you with something fun, I guess.”

"Something fun?" James sighed. He was touched by her gesture, but still unsure what he was doing at the Quidditch Pitch, of all places. “So, what is it?” 

Lily's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. "We’re getting you back on the broom, James."

"Back on the broom?" Sirius said, and Remus cocked his head curiously. 

James' breath hitched. "Get me back on a… Lily, that's… It's not safe, for anyone, I mean–"

"Hear me out," Lily interrupted him. "I know you think it's too dangerous, but I wouldn't do anything that could put you at risk. In fact, I have a whole team of people here to help."

James' brow furrowed. "A team?"

"Exactly," Lily said, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Your old teammates, and Peter, of course, they all wanted to help. We've been practicing an… adapted version of Quidditch."

James' skepticism began to melt away, replaced by a spark of curiosity. “How does that work?"

Lily shrugged playfully. "We'll explain as we go. But trust me, it's fun. And Hooch said we could, so… here we are! What do you say?."

A long silence followed, broken only by the rustle of the wind in the stands. James' fingers tightened around the object he held, his hand trembling slightly.

Finally, he took a deep breath. "Alright, Evans," he conceded, his voice determined. "You win. But if I end up face-planting in the dirt, I'm blaming you."

A triumphant grin spread across Lily's face. She turned towards Sirius, who was standing a few paces away, a playful grin on his face. "Alright, Sirius," she announced. "Let's get him up."

"Me?" Sirius replied loudly. "I've only been roped into this now... what am I supposed to be doing?"

Lily whispered something in his ear, and his skepticism turned into a huge smile. 

Sirius, his eyes twinkling with mischief, stepped forward and offered a hand to James.

"Ready to fly again, Prongs?" he asked, his voice laced with excitement.

James hesitated for a beat, then a slow smile stretched across his face. "As ready as I'll ever be, Padfoot. Just promise me you won't fly me headfirst into a hoop."

With a laugh, they headed over to where Lily had set up a broom, modified to fit both young men seated on it safely. Sirius guided James to mount the broom, his hands steady and guiding until James' muscle memory took over. The Gryffindor Quidditch team positioned themselves around the pitch, getting ready to start the game. 

As James settled onto the broom, his hands securely gripping the handle, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. With Sirius’ body tucked behind him tightly on the broom, steering them and acting as his guide, they launched themselves into the air.

The thrill of the wind rushing past him, the cheers and instructions from his teammates, the rush of adrenaline as he swerved and dodged with Sirius – it was a whole new experience, yet undeniably the same as the days he spent soaring freely across the Quidditch Pitch.

By the end of the day, his muscles were sore and his heart was full. James and Sirius landed with a soft thud close to where Lily and Remus had parked themselves for the afternoon, a wide grin plastered on James’ face as he awkwardly dismounted, legs tangling with Sirius’ as they tried to hop off.

"Alright, Lily," he told her, his voice hoarse from laughter. "You got me. Thank you. Thank you all. This…" he gestured widely, "this is the best surprise anyone could have asked for."

Lily beamed. "Just seeing that smile back on your face, James, that was the real reward."

“You’re the best girlfriend a guy could ask for,” he said, and she reached over and squeezed his hand. 

“I know, James, I know.” 

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the glass panes of the greenhouses as Peter shuffled nervously amongst the potted moonstone plants. Today's rendezvous with Elle felt different – a nervous excitement thrummed beneath his skin, a stark contrast to their previous, semi-platonic meetings.

Elle, as promised, arrived breathless and slightly flushed, her hair escaping its usual braid in a flurry of blonde wisps.

"Peter!" she exclaimed, a wide smile lighting up her face. "Sorry I'm late. Flitwick sprung a surprise pop quiz on us, and the theory for that class is just so hard for me to figure out."

Peter, his heart hammering in his chest, forced a smile. "No worries, Elle. I just got here myself."

He cast a furtive glance around the greenhouse, ensuring they were truly alone amongst the sprouting vegetables and fragrant herbs. Relief washed over him when he saw only the silent companionship of the plants.

"So," Elle began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "you said you wanted to talk to me about something?"

Peter hesitated, his cheeks burning. The truth, the jumbled mess of emotions swirling within him, seemed too much to articulate. He cleared his throat, opting for a safer route.

"Well," he stammered, "I just… I wanted to see you again. And maybe…" he trailed off, his courage failing him.

Elle’s eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, softened with concern. "Maybe what, Peter?"

Taking a deep breath, Peter blurted out, "Maybe spend some time with you, outside of the greenhouse. Like, as friends, you know? Proper friends."

He winced internally at the lame addition, but to his surprise, Elle’s smile widened.

"As friends?" she echoed, a lilt of something else lingering in her voice. "Of course, Peter, if you'd like. I'd love to. We could go to Hogsmeade together next weekend, or maybe…" her voice dropped to a teasing whisper, "we could have a picnic sometime? I know there’s a really interesting patch of wild flitterblooms somewhere in the forest…"

Peter's heart skipped a beat. The idea of a picnic with Elle, just the two of them, sent a jolt of excitement through him. He stammered out a reply, his voice barely above a whisper.

"A picnic sounds… sounds lovely."

As they continued to talk, a comfortable silence settling between them punctuated by bursts of laughter, Peter felt a newfound confidence bloom within him. He dared to steal glances at Elle, truly taking in the way the sunlight danced in her hair, the warmth that radiated from her smile.

Emboldened by their easy rapport, Peter finally found the courage to voice the thought that had been simmering within him.

"Elle," he began, voice wobbling a bit as he tried to find the words, "you're… you're really special to me. More than just a friend, I mean."

Elle’s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. Then, a slow smile spread across her face, a warmth reaching her eyes.

"Peter," she said softly, "you're special to me too. In a way that goes beyond sneaking around in the greenhouses."

The air crackled around them. Peter, his heart pounding in his chest, leaned in closer, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Elle, her eyes locked on his, met him halfway.

Their first kiss was awkward, tentative, yet filled with a promise of something more. As they pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, a shy smile bloomed on Elle’s face.

"So," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "as friends, then?"

Peter grinned back. "Maybe not just friends, then," he replied, his voice squeaking. She took his hand, and gave it a squeeze

“I’ll see you next Saturday, then, at our picnic,” she told him, then collected her things and left, leaving Peter both anxious and over the moon excited all at once.