Author's Note: Alright! Re-posting this after a hard-core revamping. Still not a real fan of the whole 'confrontation' scene and how it wraps up... but it won't ever be perfect. ;D

I showed you guys three points of view here. I think I may treat this like CW and go from more than one point of view; IE Sirius and Remus.

When Sirius Black first met Remus John Lupin, the boy hadn't been very interesting, or enticing. He'd been sitting in a train compartment on the way to Hogwarts for the first time, nose in a book, his warm amber eyes shielded by reading glasses, which were in the process of sliding down his large nose –as yet unbroken— the countryside blurring by outside the window in a whir of green fields and blue skies. Strikingly, his dusty-hay colored, tousled hair appeared to be dotted with gray in the right light, even at eleven years of life. His robes, while at first glance had looked new, just as Sirius' own were –- measured to his exact proportions, to be precise – looked faintly worn in.

Remus hadn't even seemed to notice Sirius, as he had been so engrossed in that book. Sirius remembered bending his head to read the title-- Hogwarts, a History… what a boring book. They were probably bound to learn everything there was to learn about Hogwarts once they were in the bloody school anyway, what use would it be to read a book about the place?

But it had been the first empty compartment that Sirius Black and his newfound companion, James Potter, had come across. And so Sirius had barged in, sitting down across from Remus, a very exasperated James bringing up the rear, his mass of black hair even more disheveled than was normal. James had paused in the doorway, pushing his round glasses up his nose with two fingers.

"Excuse us," he'd squeaked, raking a hand back through his hair to bring it to order, simultaneously clearing his throat. "Would you mind if we joined you?"

Remus had looked up quickly, his cool face betraying nothing; he had pulled his reading glasses from his face and closed his book with the practiced patience that came with world-wise, tired men, and smiled radiantly.

"Not at all— please." He'd even taken James' owl and put the poor, squabbling thing beside him on the cushion, making room for James and his suitcase near the window.

There had been something about that calmness; that eager, trusting attitude, that had both irritated and intrigued eleven-year-old Sirius. As he and James had been drawn, and then bonded together via their rebellious streaks, Sirius had grown closer to Remus because of their severe differences. Remus had always been the voice of reason in their group; willing to put in his two-cents for a prank, but never getting his fingerprints anywhere near the actual plan. It had soon become an un-official goal of Sirius' to cause Remus to blow his rock-solid, patient persona. At first, there hadn't been any headway in said goal. Sure, Remus would get frustrated with James and Sirius, and even poor Peter Pettigrew, who had somehow wormed his way into the foursome by the middle of first year. But he'd never lost his top, so to speak. It was as if he knew what Sirius' game was, and was just as determined to never crack.

But by the end of first year, the boys had begun to suspect. They weren't sure what they suspected, but something was amiss. Remus was always in a pleasant enough mood, eager to please, and it seemed that he snapped at anyone. Yet, nearly once a month, the boy would grow touchy and would grumpily glare at nearly everyone in sight.

Remus seemed to notice this, and would tend to confine himself more often to the dorm to do assignments, or the library to research and read.

By second year, the boys had noticed another pattern. Remus was sick very often, every couple of weeks, sick enough that he would have to spend the night in the infirmary with Madame Pomfrey. Remus may have been scrawny, but he wasn't that weak. His family appeared to be falling apart by the seams; he would be constantly leaving Hogwarts to return home for funerals, or to visit sick, estranged family members.

The final tip off, and the one that had called Sirius and his companions to action, had been the scars. Remus had always been shy about his body. None of the boys had ever thought twice about it. That had just been who Remus was.

Remus would always be reading.

Remus would never yell.

Remus always changed in the loo.

Sirius couldn't even remember how he saw the first scars. Maybe he'd walked in on Remus in the showers. Maybe it had been when the other teen had been asleep. Maybe it had been on that day when Peter had caught Remus on fire in Charms, and the poor teen's one good robe had gotten a large hole burnt into the lower back. The point was, Sirius had seen the scars.

And Sirius never missed a chance to run off his large mouth. By the end of the evening, James and Peter had been filled in on the new evidence. By the end of the week, the three had holed themselves up into the library until the sky had turned pink, taking turns under the invisibility cloak to run patrol.

Before the middle of second year year, the three had figured it out. All that had been left was the confrontation.

Remus had always been insecure. Sirius had been able to tell this from the first time they'd met. The three hadn't quite known how to address this new matter with Remus. Clearly, Dumbledore had known all along about Remus' … affliction, and so the teen was clearly in some sort of contract. By admitting to Remus that they knew his secret, would they be expelled from the school?

James had decided on the private confrontation, in their own dorm room, while all the rest of the school would be down at breakfast. It had been a cold morning in the winter of their third year, a light dusting of snow fell outside; the silence had been stifling.

"Oi… Remus, hold it a 'sec."

The teen had turned around with that guarded, open smile, eyes warm and glowing with trust. Something had twisted in Sirius' gut.

"Yeah, James?"

"Can- can we chat, before we head down to breakfast?"

"…Alright. But let's not be too late—I would like a at least a shot at being Prefect, you know." The joking light to his eyes belied the vanishing smile. He had settled on the edge of his own bed. James and Sirius had sat on Sirius' bed, facing Remus. Peter had been sitting on his bed, which had its side flush against the wall and windows.

"Well… Remus…" Poor James had floundered, his eyes scanning the room as the gears audibly turned beneath his shaggy, spiky mess of black hair. "You know how you … are always getting sick."

Remus' warm, liquid whisky eyes had clearly dimmed, his face set into a neutral mask.

"Yes, James?"

"And… your family is … well, all those dying relatives."

"And your mood swings," Sirius had put in. James had glared at him, he remembered, because maybe his tone had been a bit too snide and playful. But it had never been Sirius' strongpoint to be serious and calm and to think things through. He had always gone with his instincts.

"What are you two getting at?" Remus had asked, his words dissolving into a faint, barely audible nervous giggle.

"Remus…"

Silence had enveloped the room, as if the snow outside were some sort of silencing charm. Sirius' skin had crawled, and he'd ached to scream out and break the tension; he had seen Peter from the corner of his vision, clearly uneasy with how this conversation was going. "Remus… are you a werewolf?"

And then Sirius had wanted to scream even more than before. Because the silence merely two seconds earlier had been nothing. The second silence had been the crushing sort, like a whooshing wave had crashed over their heads. Remus' face had paled to ash, his eyes dull and unfocused as his mouth worked at forming words.

"Wha—what? You mean… you mean, the sort of werewolf that howls at the moon?"

"What other werewolf is—Ow, James, you arse!"

"Yes, Remus. It's just… with the scars… and the… mood swings, and it's practically like clockwork, you see. Every month, on the night of the full moon, you disappear. Your symptoms seem to peak during the week leading up the full moon…."

There had been a prolonged silence. Peter had shifted uncomfortably. Maybe Sirius would finally see Remus crack.

And he did.

Remus' warm, happy eyes had closed, slowly, a single tear leaking out before a thick drizzle had worked through his eyelids.

"Merlin, please—don't tell anyone! I've never hurt a soul! I just—I just – I was bitten and I go to the old abandoned shack and I … I have been thrown out of so many schools, and Dumbledore knows about it, and I promise… I'll never speak to any of you again, you can forget about me. I only… I wanted a fresh start…"

The teen had then dissolved into wracking sobs, his frail shoulders shaking with the effort of releasing years of tension and anxiety and self-loathing in thick, salty tears. When Sirius had secretly wanted to see his companion explode, this hadn't been what he'd wanted.

"Remus! Remus calm down!" James had leapt into action after floundering for merely seconds, moving unto Remus' bed and throwing an arm around the shaking teen's shoulders. "We … we don't hate you Remus, please." The sobs had begun to subside, deep breaths punctuating the heavy silence as Remus had tried to control his response enough to speak coherently.

"Y-y-y-you d-don't?" He'd stuttered, lifting his face sheepishly, cheeks red hot in blush.

"Of course not, Remus!" Peter had thrown in, his squeaky voice unsure.

"We wouldn't tell a soul, Remus." Sirius had promised, catching the teen's gaze in a passing glance.

"B-but… I… I'm a bloody monster!" Remus had exclaimed as he'd pushed his way up, his arms shoved towards his companions. Teeth marks and hashes had criss-crossed on the thin, pale skin across the underside of his arms, highlighting faintly bulging blue veins, but none of the other boys had bothered to blink an eye.

"You are not a monster, Remus." James had whispered as his hands reached up to gently squeeze the skinny teen's shoulder.

"Just because you have a … slightly… hairy imposition every month is no reason for us to hate you. We're your friends, Remus—we're not going anywhere." Sirius had interjected

There had been the tense silence—Sirius remembered Remus' face, taught and harsh, his eyes narrowed in suspicion before his entire body loosened and became lax, the carefree aura once more being exuded.

When Remus had settled in for his first train ride to Hogwarts at the tender age of eleven years, he hadn't expected to befriend anyone, let alone two purebloods, one of which was practically royalty.

The two had made quite an impression, never shutting up during the entirety of the train ride.

Sirius Black, the noble part of the pair, had looked the wilder of the two, and that had proved true in time. (If there was one thing that Remus was good at, it was reading people.) The harsh, stone-grey eyes, which one could tell had been bred to look ferocious and stoic, looked like molten silver, the edges crinkled up in the everlasting glimmer of a playful smirk. The hair, blacker than James', if that were possible, had been short then. It was obvious that someone had painstakingly smoothed and combed it back, but that the rebellious teen had worked it into a shaggy mess that would only improve with time.

James, on the other hand, had managed to look very regal and commanding, even as he burst into devious guffaws with his newfound best mate. His black hair, which was slightly longer, had decided to stick out in all possible arrangements, his hazel eyes glinting much like Sirius', if in a less intimidating manner, behind round spectacles.

Together, the two made a formidable duo.

At the Sorting, Remus had watched his barely-acquaintances both get sorted into Gryffindor, and found himself hoping, in the back of his mind, to be sorted in with them, if only to have a leg up on making some sort of friends. He had really liked those two… even though they had kept him from his reading.

Oh, well, what have we here?

You must be rather special to have been admitted here, boy!

Now, now, let's not be so modest!

Hmm. What a warm heart! … Somewhat fragile in nature…

Quick-witted, though, mustn't forget that, no…!

And then there is the matter of those monthly transformations—

You are deeply frightened of them, are you not?

But the courage it must take to –

…What's that?

You are frightened of hurting others! Now there is the proper sort of fear.

Along with that comes the proper sort of courage!

Now, now… let me see… so many choices…Please do stop fidgeting!

"Gryffindor!"

Something akin to relief had seeped deeply into the timid boy as he'd stood up and gingerly handed the talking, singing hat to Professor McGonagall before he'd meandered towards the red-and-gold decorated Gryffindor table.

At first he'd thought that he would sit at the end of the table, until, amidst the warm clapping, came cries of,

"Lupin, oi!"

"Remus mate, over here!"

James, Sirius, and a shorter, portlier blonde boy had been seated along the center of the table, and were waving rather frantically in Remus' direction, indicating for him to sit down.

When Remus has first settled in for his first train ride to Hogwarts at the tender age of eleven years, he hadn't expected to befriend anyone.

Thump

Thump

ThumpThumpThump

Thump… Thump

"Sirius…"

Thump Thump

Thump

ThumpThumpThump

"...Sirius!"

Thump

Thump

Thump

"Sirius! … Please!"

At the heartfelt plea of his companion, Sirius stopped throwing his heels against the base of the train bench, instead threading his fingers behind his head and sighing with a playfully aggravated tone.

"Aw, but Remmy—I'm so much more interesting than that book!"

"Call me Remmy one more time, Sirius—" Remus growled, closing his book with a decided snap; he wasn't going to get to read any more.

"Or you'll what? Lecture me to death?" Sirius snickered, lounging out across the seat and throwing his legs lazily across James' lap.

"Oi! Gerroff, you git!" James grunted, shoving Sirius' long legs off from his lap with a harsh shove. "What would you do to him, Remus?" James asked, a twinkle glittering in his eyes.

"I'd make sure he's locked in the Shack with me, the next time I get inconvenienced by my hairy little problem."

The cabin became completely still, the clacking of the train's wheels magnified and ear piercing, the awkward silence stretching on for a few long moments.

"Ahem—" James cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up his nose, "I must say, Mr. Black… I do believe that to be the first time our dear Mr. Lupin has mentioned his condition in a joking manner!" The boy's voice was pompous and deep, managing to sound the part of a mocking therapist.

"Well, Mr. Potter, I must agree! He is making such lovely progress, I really must say! He may have a sense of humor after all!" Sirius agreed, his voice quavering with barely contained guffaws.

"I've always had a sense of humor!" Remus huffed, allowing a small grin to spread across his face. "It isn't my fault that you lot can't find a laugh without it being at someone else's expense."

"Hold on! We only torture old Snivelly!" James cried indignantly, managing to make the other 5th' Year's name sound like some sort of disgusting disease as well as a slur. Remus sighed, rolling his eyes and opening his book with a sigh of resignation.

The other boy's eyes were so far buried in Of Muggles and Magic that he missed the conspiratory glance and shared devious smirk that passed between his trouble-making friends, the rumble of the train against the tracks drowning out the sound of their low, excited whispers.