Written for the Title Challenge II. Please don't forget to leave your thoughts!

Courageous

It seems to be a normal March day at first. It becomes apparent it is anything but.

The students of Hogwarts sit in the Great Hall, pouring over their textbooks before classes, catching up on school gossip, and descending like rabid animals on their food. The four Gryffindors who like to go by the title The Marauders are not immune to this normality.

"I head someone caught Marlene and Harold in a broom closet last night," a boy with shoulder-length black hair says around a mouthful of sardines. He swallows before he starts again. "He had his shirt off and she was only in her knickers. Wish I'd seen it." A brown haired boy sitting across from the black-haired boy rolls his eyes, making a grab for a piece of toast.

"Sirius–" the brown-haired boy pauses to take a bite of the toast and swallows it "–that is an inappropriate breakfast conversation."

The black-haired boy, Sirius as he is known, rolls his eyes as he shoves a spoonful of baked beans into his mouth. "Don't get your knickers in a twist; I don't particularly want to see them."

"Oh you know you do," says a different black-haired boy whose hair sticks out in all directions. He has taken the seat next to Sirius and is scraping white pudding onto his plate. "You're always ogling Remus' bum."

"James!" whines Sirius, but he is ignored by his friends.

"Pass the beans, would ya?" James asks Remus. The brown haired boy complies with a smile. "So, what're we talking about?"

"Marlene and Harold," Sirius quickly answers. Remus rolls his eyes, tapping the glimmering badge on his chest that reads 'prefect'. Sirius ignores the hint. "Totally doing more than snogging in a broom closet last night. Filch caught 'em."

James rolls his eyes. "Why is your mind always in the gutter?"

Sirius snorts and turns his head away from his friends, sticking his nose in the air in a comical gesture of outrage. It is an action befitting a proper Black. His gaze lands on the Hufflepuff table where three girls are staring at them. He gives them his trademark grin, the one most certainly not befitting a proper Black, the one that glitters like the noonday son, and they quickly turn their gazes down to their food, frowning and silent. He frowns at their turned backs and turns to look at his own food.

Lunch is a class away for the students of Hogwarts, and their minds are barely on the lessons. Instead they're on gossip again: who's dating who, who did what, etc. Sirius has the distinct impression that a piece of that gossip is focused on him or one of the other Marauders.

It's a safe assumption; the eyes that follow him everywhere he goes, the way when he approaches classmates and they stop their conversation mid-word – it's clear.

It's not the first time they've been the center of nasty gossip. Frankly, being the center of gossip is unsurprising to the Marauders. If one of the Marauders doesn't show up for classes, rumors start flying that they've been expelled. If a Marauder asks another student for help, rumors spread they've had a fight. They're famous, and everyone speculates about the famous.

This time is different though, not the usual. He can tell. These are harsh whispers and cruel glares. Whatever rumor is floating through Hogwarts, it's not a good one. Maybe Snivellus started it; actually, he'd put his galleons on that one.

He's finally had it though, standing outside the locked door to his NEWT Transfiguration classes with his arm around Remus' shoulders. He snaps. It's not a taunt from Snivellus that makes him snap; it's a look from none other than James' Lily Evans.

"What?!"

The girl is startled. Her green eyes widen and her grip on her books tightens to the point her knuckles are white. She looks like a fish out of water the way her mouth opens and closes.

"It's nothing…" she whispers. Sirius is stubborn though.

"I'm not stupid Evans; spit it out."

She glances down at the stone flooring. Seconds pass. Sirius' shouting has gathered a murmuring crowd and he catches some of their murmurs. "He doesn't know?" one girl asks. "He can't," another responds, "look where his arm is." As soon as these words are out, his stomach drops. He knows, he feels it, and goddamn it.

"Lily," Remus says and Sirius wonders if he's realized it because unlike how he normally would, Remus doesn't offer her a hand in reassurance. "Sirius won't snap at you again; I'm sorry for his behavior." Lily shoots Remus a small (pitying, in Sirius' opinion) smile and rushes off. The crowd, however, does not disperse.

Sirius hand tightens around Remus' shoulders, and tries, seemingly successful in the endeavor, to convey with his eyes that he does not care one itsy-witsy bit about what they think of Remus. He can see fear in their faces and he wonders if he also conveyed the Black madness with his look, but whatever the case, the fear of him, not Remus, was a good thing. Remus wasn't something to be afraid of; he read muggle romance novels when no one was looking, had a fondness for cardigans, and could barely stand to transfigure animals in Transfiguration.

They make way for them as he drags Remus away. Remus does not fight or argue; he stumbles along behind Sirius, keeping his eyes locked with the ground. Sirius isn't exactly sure where he's taking them at first but he knows he wants to be alone with Remus, away from the prying and disgusted eyes of the rest of the student body. He finds himself dragging his friend across the grounds of Hogwarts until they're standing in front of a tree they're both quite familiar with. He is quick to paralyze it, but in the process he lets go of Remus. Remus says nothing, moves not an inch, and follows Sirius down the tunnel and into the place he hates so. It seems fitting to Remus.

The Shrieking Shack is as it always is: battered, weathered, and run down. It has never been pleasant – not before or after Sirius, Peter, and James became animagi. It is not pleasant now when the full moon is not minutes from rising.

"Goddamn it," is how Sirius opens the conversations. It's isn't elegant or polite, a perfect highlight of just who Sirius is: uncouth and rude.

Remus sighs. "When werewolves turn eighteen, eighteen to comply with muggle laws since some werewolves are muggles, their page in the Werewolf Registry become a public record." Sirius pauses and thinks, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed. "I knew it was a possibility but I didn't expect it so soon." Sirius doesn't even seem to hear him.

Finally, he speaks. "But your birthday is today!"

Remus inwardly snorts at Sirius' sentence, but doesn't allow his humor to show. "Yes, and that's why I wasn't expecting it. I assume someone had their suspicions, knew when my birthday was, and looked." He glances down at his clasped hands as he says the next bit because he knows what will happen once it's said. "Snape is a plausible candidate."

"Snape," Sirius hisses, "that no good, sonofa-" Remus taps his prefect badge and Sirius quickly quiets down. Despite the fact his sentiment isn't finished aloud, Remus can see that and much more are running through his head. Any other time, Remus would warn Sirius about causing trouble but this time, he can't bring himself to do it. If it really is Snape, and it must be he reasons, then he wants revenge.

It is not in Remus' nature to be vengeful. He forgave Sirius after that blunder in fifth year, despite the fact it was the epitome of thoughtless betrayal, never once wanting revenge. How this was different, he couldn't fathom, but Remus felt this was different. He sincerely doubted it was because, though Sirius' had been a thoughtless mistake and Snape's was a pointed attack, Sirius' had been much worse.

Finally he composes himself and slips back into usual Remus behavior. "You will not hurt Snape, understood? He may be innocent." Sirius snorts at this, but that is his only reaction to Remus' words. "Please?" the boy asks again, giving the black-haired boy a weathering glare. Sirius rolls his eyes.

"Fine Moony, I won't hurt Snivellus."

Remus can tell Sirius is lying; he's not even trying to hide it. The lie is blatant, just as Sirius is always wont to do.

Remus attempts to give his friend a reassuring smile, but the look on Sirius' face informs he has failed miserably. Remus chooses to ignore it. "Let's go catch the last part of Transfiguration."

Sirius sighs, but does not argue.

The whispers he can ignore. The glances he can ignore. The avoidance he can ignore. Slytherin's insulting Remus he cannot ignore.

"Well if isn't little wolf boy," one of the Slytherin's sneers. He's pudgy boy with sauce stains on his uniform; certainly not someone who should be saying anything about Remus. "You look a bit hungry wolf boy. I'd offer you my flesh but I'm not that depraved." That last bit is thrown Sirius' way with a sneer and a disgusted glare.

"Oh yeah?" Sirius shoots back with a sneer a thousand times worse, one that promises much, much pain. Remus places his hand on Sirius' shoulder but the boy ignores it.

"Yeah," the boy responds, taking a step closer to Sirius. His foul breath washes over Sirius' face and the black-haired boy's lips curl in revulsion.

"Satchel…" the Slytherin's crew whines. They Slytherin, Satchel he presumes, continues to ignore them.

"Padfoot…" Remus warns from behind him. Sirius continues to ignore him.

The Slytherin's sneer only grows. "Oh look at the lovebirds," his says in a sickeningly sweet voice. "Aren't they so cute? The disgrace of the Black family and a werewolf; the perfect couple."

Sirius response is simple; impulsive, but simple. He punches the pudgy Slytherin.

"You know, you should be careful what you say about a Black," Sirius says as he cracks his knuckles, a violent glimmer in his eyes. "We're all so inbred we don't know right from wrong. But if I was supposed to decide if that was right or wrong, I would say right because it felt so goddamn good."

They Slytherin whimpers, his mouth open. Sirius smiles. Finally the Slytherin's friends pull themselves from their stupor and help their leader up.

"You're insane Black," the leader says. "Worse than your pet werewolf."

The Slytherin's turn tail and flee before Sirius has a chance to get a word, or a fist, in.

In Defense the following day, they are reviewing werewolves. Sirius has the distinct impression that this isn't just because it will be on their NEWTs. That impression probably isn't helped each time the teacher, one Prof. Flanagan, keeps shooting looks at Remus and calling on him even when Remus hasn't risen his hand. His quill is certainly worse for wear before the class is halfway passed.

"Mr. Remus, please name one common werewolf myth that is false," Prof. Flanagan commands. Remus opens his mouth to answer but Sirius kicks him in the shin and starts speaking himself.

"Why don't you call on someone else?" The question may seem innocent in writing, but the tone it's spoken with is anything but; it's accusing, filled with hatred and repulsion – it speaks clearly of all the things Sirius can do with the name of Black backing him. He may hate his family, but he is happy to use their name when it comes in handy.

"Mr. Black I-"

But Sirius doesn't let him finish. He stands, furthering the dramatic gesture by stepping up onto his now vacant seat. Remus tugs on his cloak with a hissed "Sirius!" Sirius, of course, ignores him.

"You're calling on him because he's a werewolf." The class gasps as if they didn't already know, faking innocence. "And you want to know what I call that? Harassment!"

"Sirius!"

"And you also know what? I won't stand for that." He hears the thud of Remus' head hitting the desk but chooses to ignore that as well.

"How many of you got help from Remus on homework?" A few students shakily raise their hands. "Honestly, how many of you've gotten Remus to help you with homework? How many of you attended his OWL study sessions? How many of you have tripped in the hall and Remus help you up?" No one rose any hands to these questions, but they all remembered those times. "How many of you admired Remus for being a nice guy? How many of you thought he was the best of the Marauders? And how many of you wondered why in Merlin's name was he hanging out with us?" One could here crickets chirp if there were any. Someone coughed and it was as if a boulder had crashed through the ceiling.

"Remus has been attending Hogwarts for seven years, and how many of you thought he was a werewolf?" Someone coughs again and many look away from Sirius. "He was six years old when he was bitten! You're going to blame him for something he had no control over when he was a child?!" Still no one says anyone. "All of you disgust me. Remus hasn't changed, but your perceptions of him have because of stupid prejudice. You lot are worse than my family; at least they have the guts to admit their bigots."

There is a silence in the classroom; it's a silence that gnaws at his innards and tugs at his heart. He wonders what they think, what they're saying in their heads, but he pushes those thoughts away because he doesn't care, he shouldn't care.

"Please take your seat Mr. Black," Prof. Flanagan finally says, breaking the silence. "Mr. Rooiakker please give me one common misconception regarding werewolves."

The class continues, Rooiakker answers the question. Sirius isn't paying attention to the world around him though, too proud of himself to care. He does pay attention, however, when Remus speaks.

"Thank you, Sirius." And that smile Remus gives him tells Sirius that he could die happy.