Remus does not like being a werewolf. Of that, he is certain.
He hates the sleepless nights that precede a full moon, the anxiety that he'll hurt something.
He hates that he has no future, that when people find out, they can't even look at him.
But he is glad of one thing - the scars.
Well, actually, no. He hates those too. They maul his body, making him look even more like the monster he is.
But when you have so many scars already - and a reason for them - he's noticed that people don't see the other scars as any different.
The ones he carves into himself with his wand at three in the morning, when everyone else is asleep.
Sirius loved watching Remus.
Not in, like, a creepy way. But when his eyes fluttered open in the early morning and Remus was pulling off his nightshirt, or sleepily walking to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and the light hit him through the window and turned him golden... or when he put his tongue between his teeth when he was thinking, or when he tugged down his sweater sleeves when he was nervous...
This particular morning, Sirius cracked open his eyes to find Remus buttoning up his ever-present long sleeve shirt. Remus didn't really have abs, but god, that body. Hot if he ever saw one, and Sirius Black saw many - girls, boys, and everything in between.
As Sirius's gaze lost some of its sleep and focused a little more, he noticed the bags under Remus's eyes. Glancing up at his moon schedule (one he had made himself, decorating it with little pictures and everything, so he could know), he realized that the full moon was, in fact, tonight. Excitement coursed through his veins. He lived for these nights.
Remus had just pulled his robes over his head when Sirius passed him, a quick "good morning" on his death-breath before walking into the bathroom. The werewolf combed his fingers through his hair a couple times, glancing at the door to the bathroom, and then collapsed into himself. He couldn't be thinking about Sirius like this. His best friend. If Sirius ever found out, he'd be disgusted. Oh well, Remus thought bitterly, digging his nails into his skin, they were bound to be disgusted with me some time or another. This'll just come later than usual.
Carefully placing each of his textbooks into his bookbag, he walked over to Peter's bed for his first (out of three) wakeup call. Then he turned to James, but James was already bounding out of bed.
"Alright, Moony! Ready for tonight?"
Remus's heart sunk. Tonight. Of course, he loved the moon nights now. But there was still the dread, and all the headaches, and the danger of hurting someone... of hurting one of his friends... not to mention if they looked to closely as he was transforming, if they saw the scars...
But the apprehension and fear was met with excitement and happiness - something he didn't think should come in the face of this, but come it did - and his face was pulled into a grin. "Always. You?"
"Pumped, Moon, pumped!" Sirius shouted from the bathroom where he was putting on a thin layer of eyeliner.
Remus was fairly certain this was going to be a good day. He started whistling "Blackbird" and gave Peter his second wake up call.
God, Sirius loved it when Remus whistled.
First of all, his whistle was clear and beautiful, like a birdsong. He always hit the right notes, and could do practically any tune you put in front of him.
Second of all, the way his lips puckered was really, really hot.
Of course, Sirius, standing in the bathroom and doing his hair, couldn't see the tall boy - but he could hear him, and he could definitely picture him.
Those golden eyes...
Sirius licked his lips and walked out of the bathroom, pulling robes over his head. Shrugging them around his shoulders so they hung just right, he tied his tie (loosely) and glanced at James, who was combing his fingers through his spiky brown hair.
"Didn't do my transfiguration homework..." Sirius realized.
"Yeah! Stick it to the man!" James laughed, looking at himself in the mirror.
"Or in this case the Minnie," Sirius chortled, "Hey Remmy, can I copy off you?"
"No," Remus sighed, and Sirius laughed again. "You need to learn, Sirius."
"Oh come on, I'm like top of the class. Don't be a bogart."
Remus scrunched up his face, (Oh god, he was so cute when he scrunched up his face), "I don't even know what that means."
"It means you're greedy, Moony, but Padfoot, that's usually used for drugs," James laughed.
"With Remus, homework is like a drug."
The fact that Remus was rather good at Potions did nothing to increase his love of the class. The stifling fumey air, the weird smells, all the guts and blood and eyeballs, and, of course, Professor Slughorn. Professor Slughorn didn't like him, and Remus was fairly certain he knew why - if anyone were to find out about his... condition, it would be the Slug, with his 'connections in high places' and his kiss-ass attitude.
Lily Evans was sitting next to him, chopping up a beetle. She was his saving grace - for one, the Slug loved her. Second, when the Slug's glares got to be too much and he started losing his breath, she could always talk him down.
That was the thing about Lily. Although James, Sirius, and Peter were fantastic friends, Lily Evans had a calming way about her - although she could be fiery when she needed to be. Her hands were always cold, which he liked. She was a good friend. He didn't deserve her.
Hurriedly, he chopped up his own beetle, having a bit of difficulty getting it to stop bouncing aroud - curiously watching Snape in the corner, crushing his own - he threw it in the cauldron. Fifth year potions were easy enough, if one payed attention to detail, and then some.
Sirius leaned over from the table nearby. "I can stinkbomb him if you want."
Remus laughed, a warm feeling spreading inside him that always came when Sirius spoke directly to him. "We're fifth years now. We've got to think of something better than that," he replied, pinching himself to try to get rid of the feeling.