Written for QLFC, Round 2, and the International Wizarding School Championship, Round 9.

QLFC

Team: Wasps

Position: Keeper

Theme: Write about a character(s) who thrives in luxury and decadence having to live a minimalist life OR write about a high-strung character learning to relax and just be.

IWSC

School: Beauxbatons

Year: Year 4

Theme: Circinus (The Compass constellation) – write about someone who is lost and finding their way

Written for Arasulgil, who requested a Marauders' fic with a bit of angst

Main prompt: (event) Astronomy homework

Additional prompts: (setting) Astronomy tower; (action) stargazing

Word count: 2870


A Werewolf's Woes

Remus Lupin let out a groan of frustration as he scratched out the last sentence he'd written for his Astronomy essay. It made no difference how many times he reviewed Professor Sinistra's lesson; his mind would not make sense of the latest complex star charts that his least favourite teacher had decided to torture him with.

It wasn't just him she was torturing, mind you. All of the Gryffindor fifth-years had spent the past week ripping their hair out, all because of this one essay.

Of course, most of his classmates had thrown in the towel by now, flinging their worries to the wind and their grades along with them. Remus couldn't fathom it himself. Laissez-faire. Que será, será. What will be, will be. Whatever language you said it in, it meant the same thing: admitting defeat.

Remus stretched and heard a kink in his spine pop. He'd been hunched over his parchment for hours, and it was torture for his body, especially so soon after a full moon. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed; maybe read a few chapters from a book that had nothing to do with schoolwork. But he couldn't allow himself that luxury.

It wasn't just stubbornness that kept him there, no matter what his friends might say. They couldn't understand what drove him, and he couldn't blame them for that. The truth was that failure wasn't optional for him; he couldn't just do alright, mediocrity wouldn't be enough. He needed to excel. Not for some misplaced sense of pride, duty, or honour, but because he would need that extra boost if he ever wanted to make something of himself.

His lycanthropy meant that getting a job, and keeping it, was going to be difficult, which was putting it mildly. He was always asking teachers for extra credit. He held a study group once a week for the younger students. He worked harder on his homework than anyone else in this school. He became a prefect, despite the dullness of the job. Because he knew that if his academic accomplishments were anything short of perfect, he would be kissing his chance at a comfortable future goodbye.

Even so, he knew that no matter how well he did at school, there was a chance that it wouldn't make a difference; that it would all be for naught. Because no matter how much effort he put into his studies, he couldn't change what he was. Nor could he change the way people would look at him if they ever found out, and even the dumbest employer would start to notice his monthly absences after a while.

He couldn't hide. He couldn't change. He couldn't be cured. His options were limited; he could only wish for the millionth time that things could be different.

Remus was so caught up in his wallowing and his self-pity that he failed to notice that he was being sneaked up upon. His assailant jumped him from behind, miscalculated their leap and ended up sprawled on the floor at his feet. Remus didn't have to glance down to know who it was.

"Graceful as ever, Sirius," he commented dryly as his friend sat up and brushed imaginary dust from his robes with as much dignity as he could muster.

"I meant to do that," Sirius said primly. "I would never knock over an invalid; it would be cruel."

Remus snorted. "I seem to recall that you started a wrestling match with me, not two days ago. I also believe I won."

"I let you win because I'm a good friend. As such, you owe me a favour."

Remus finally glanced away from his essay and eyed his friend warily. "What kind of favour?"

"I require entertainment," said Sirius haughtily, like a bored prince demanding that his fool dance for him.

Remus couldn't hold back his groan. He needed to keep working, but when Sirius wanted something, he wouldn't rest until he got it, pursuing it with the tenacity of a bulldog, or something else equally as strong and stubborn.

Sirius had been the first to cobble together his completed essay. He'd thrown himself dramatically onto his bed after reading through the lesson once and had declared in a long soliloquy that the gods were cruel and unjust but that he was at their mercy. He'd then grabbed the most crumpled sheet of parchment that he owned and had started writing. Fifteen minutes later, he'd finished, and he hadn't spared it a thought since.

Sirius was king of the laissez-faire attitude to life. He was unshakable in his belief that everything would work out eventually, and that there was no need to mar his beautiful face with frown lines caused by stressing over things that would be irrelevant in five years' time. It looked like an enjoyable way to live, very relaxed. But Remus would never be able to pull it off the way Sirius did because Sirius Black was one of those detestable people who naturally excelled at life. Everything he did, he did brilliantly, beautifully, perfectly. He was probably going to get top marks on that Astronomy essay, despite spending so little time on it; he would definitely do better than Remus.

Remus often wanted to hate him for that. Sirius was a walking reminder that life wasn't fair, that the gods did not dispense their gifts and blessings equally. Remus had gotten the short end of the stick; Sirius had not. He was a Black, heir to one of the most powerful wizarding families in Europe. He was the most talented student in this school, and intelligent to boot, and he was so handsome that girls would often fall over themselves just to talk to him, and some boys did too. The world was his oyster.

Or so it seemed.

Appearances could be deceiving. Remus was a prime example of that: his overly large jumpers and even-tempered habits did wonders in hiding the monster within. Sirius was like him in that regard: what people saw on the surface was only a small part of the whole, yet only a few individuals chose to look any deeper, preferring the illusions of the mild-mannered bookworm, on the one hand, and the charming playboy, on the other, to a reality that was far more broken and damaged. That of the scarred werewolf and the abused heir.

But despite Sirius's difficult family circumstances, he never seemed to suffer Remus's sense of not belonging; he had his plethora of admirers and his brotherly bond with James to anchor him and give him a place in this world. No matter what he did, he would never be an outsider in the way that Remus was.

Remus was a monster parading as a person. He would never belong here. Not ever.

Fingers snapped in front of Remus's face, drawing him out of his thoughts. "I thought I'd lost you there for a second," said Sirius with an easy grin.

"For a moment there, you did," Remus mumbled before shaking off the melancholy. "I'm busy. Why don't you ask James or Peter to amuse you?"

"James has Quidditch practice, and Peter has a date," said Sirius with a dismissive wave.

Remus knew that he had to get back to work, but that caught his attention. "A date?"

Sirius raised one elegant eyebrow at him. "He's been talking about it non-stop for the past week. I know you've been hiding away in the library a lot of late, but even so, there's no way you could have missed all of his lovesick blathering. Miranda Chase asked him out."

Miranda Chase was a Ravenclaw, one year ahead of the Marauders and very pretty. "She asked him?"

Sirius nodded, his gaze wandering over the common room, like a king surveying his people. "Our little Wormtail has more game than we give him credit for."

Remus was no stranger to envy; he'd just never expected to feel it for Peter.

Peter was a fine chap and a good mate, but there wasn't anything extraordinary about him like there was with Sirius and James, which often made Peter seem quite average in comparison. But now even Wormtail was on the verge of making the kind of emotional connections that Remus dared not allow himself to dream of. For who could ever love a monster?

Remus's struggle with his feelings of self-loathing was interrupted by Sirius jumping to his feet and holding out a hand to his friend. "Come on. I want to play a game of exploding snap."

"I'm busy, Sirius," said Remus, staring resolutely down at his unfinished essay, "and I'm in no mood to be your entertainment this evening."

Sirius scoffed at his tone. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"I have homework," he said, and even so far from the next full moon, there was the hint of a growl in his voice.

"Sinistra's essay," said Sirius, glancing down at the parchment and books set out in front of Remus. "You haven't finished that yet? Honestly, Moony, everyone else has given up on it, even Evans. You should too."

A sullen glower was the only reply he was willing to offer. It would be so easy to give in, to just let go, to follow Sirius's lead and not worry about a single thing, if only for tonight. But he knew that if he did that, he'd regret it come morning, and he'd have to work twice as hard to catch up on the time he'd wasted on something as frivolous as enjoying himself.

"Tell you what," Sirius said, his tone far gentler now and his smile softer. "If you take a short break, just long enough for me to cheer you up, then we can do the Astronomy homework together. I'll even do it properly this time."

Remus eyed him warily. "The last time you tried to cheer me up, you charmed all of the suits of armour in the castle to shout rude words whenever someone passed them, which earned us a month's worth of detentions."

"Some people don't appreciate the finer things," said Sirius with a grin and an exaggerated sigh. "But I solemnly swear that there will be no mischief tonight."

Remus hesitated, glancing down at his fruitless labour, but inevitably being drawn back up by Sirius's bright smile. He didn't have to say a word for Sirius to know that he'd be getting his way after all.

Sirius grabbed his hand and led him straight out through the portrait hole. Remus knew better than to point out that it was past nearly curfew; such minor details were of no interest to any of his friends, and to Sirius least of all.

He had no idea where Sirius was taking him. His sense of direction had never been brilliant but add in a castle in which everything from the staircases to portraits moved, and he quickly became lost. It wasn't until they started heading upward that he managed to deduce the only place Sirius could be taking him.

At this time of night on a Saturday, the top of the Astronomy Tower was deserted, save for a few abandoned telescopes. It was a tad too chilly out to be wandering around without a cloak, but Remus didn't mind. His many nights spent shivering away in the Shrieking Shack as he waited for the pull of the moon to break his body and warp his mind, had left him immune to the cold. If Sirius was affected by the brisk wind, he didn't say anything.

Sirius had been quiet the whole way there, which was very unlike him. Remus enjoyed a nice, peaceful walk as much as the next person, but not when he was with Sirius. Sirius was a hurricane of a human being, and drawn-out silences were always a cause for concern. But Sirius's expression had been that of thoughtful pondering, nothing to suggest an impending storm.

"I like to come up here when I can't sleep," Sirius said eventually, staring up at the cloudless sky. "It helps me clear my head."

Remus's focus was drawn away from the stars and toward his friend. "I didn't know you had trouble sleeping."

Sirius shrugged, the movement flowing gracefully from his shoulders with all the poise and elegance of a dancer. "Only sometimes."

"You should wake me," said Remus. He wasn't sure where that suggestion had come from, but he knew that he meant it; he'd rather be woken up at some ungodly hour, than imagine his bright, lively friend up here alone and brooding in the night. "Whenever you can't sleep, you should wake me, and we can talk. I could come up here with you."

Sirius studied him for a bit before nodding and smiling. "Thank you."

A look passed between them, and Remus wasn't sure what it meant, but it seemed to turn his insides to goo: thick and heavy and unfamiliar but not totally unpleasant.

He turned his gaze to the stars, choosing to ignore the uncertainty hanging in the air in favour of relaxing as he'd come here to do. Anything else could wait until his heart had ceased its unsteady pounding, and his stomach had settled in a way that no longer made him feel as though he were standing on a rocky boat.

It was a clear night, and the absence of any nearby cities made the stars shine all the brighter. He was terrible at Astronomy; he could never remember which constellation was which or which planet was where. The only star he could recognise every single time was Sirius, the Dog Star, for which Remus's current stargazing companion was named. The brightest star in the night sky. It was a fitting name for the wonderful Sirius Black.

"My namesake isn't the only star in the sky, you know?" Sirius had followed his gaze and was smirking at him; it was a smug expression which would have been infuriating if it didn't suit him so well.

"I don't know any of the others," said Remus, quickly looking away to hide his blush.

Sirius took Remus's hand in his, making Remus jump at the unexpected touch. Sirius lifted their hands to point at a spot beside his namesake. "Do you see that group of stars there? That's Orion, named for a Greek mythological hunter; it's the constellation that my father is named after. Canis Major, the constellation that Sirius belongs to, is thought of as one of Orion's hunting dogs, due to their proximity."

"You've always been top of the class in Astronomy."

"Father had me memorise the night sky before I could even read," Sirius explained. Remus couldn't help but notice that Sirius hadn't let go of his hand. "He said that it's important for Blacks to know the name of every star. It was one of the more pleasant lessons that he gave."

The look in Sirius's eyes became distant, no doubt recalling some of his parents' lessons that hadn't been so pleasant.

"Teach me," said Remus, interrupting his friend's unhealthy brooding.

Sirius arched a brow at him. "You want me to teach you astronomy?"

Remus jerked his shoulders in a clumsy shrug. "We might as well do something useful while we're up here."

"We're up here so that you can learn to relax, not so that you can study," Sirius reminded him. "Although I suppose we could do both."

Sirius tugged him down so that they were sitting side by side on the wide parapet. The cold stone was freezing against Remus's backside, but Sirius was still holding his hand, and their shoulders were pressed together, and he didn't ever want to move away.

As Sirius leaned against Remus, he started pointing out the stars and constellations that were named after various members of his family, giving each star its own little story revolving around Black family drama. It made remembering them much easier, but Remus was having a hard time focusing on the night sky. Their combined body heat and Sirius's thumb rubbing circles over Remus's knuckles was making the werewolf feel drowsy. Muscles in his shoulders, which bore the brunt of his stressful lifestyle, and which had been tense and uncomfortable for as long as he could remember, started to relax.

His head drooped onto Sirius's shoulder, giving him a perfect view of the Hogwarts grounds. The rolling green hill that led down to Hagrid's cabin with its ever smoking chimney. The Forbidden Forest beyond it which looked strangely peaceful and mystical at night. The Black Lake, twinkling with the light of a thousand diamonds as it reflected the stars above. There wasn't a sound to be heard other than Sirius's gentle voice and the occasional gust of wind. The air was crisp, and Sirius smelled of expensive shampoo, something flowery that was probably to thank for the lustrous gleam and vibrant bounce of his hair.

Remus could have fallen asleep there, precariously balanced atop of Hogwarts' tallest tower. But he wanted to savour this moment. This one perfect, carefree moment when nothing mattered at all.

This was where he belonged, he decided, with Sirius beside him and the stars to lead him home.