Nope, you'll read right. I bet you'll even come back to look up here to check if I'm out of my mind. No crying Remus, no breaking down, no 'my life is over, I suppose I'll leave'. Remus can mask his feelings perfectly; he's learned how over the years. I don't see why now should be any different.

I just realized the tense in this is pretty messed up, so I changed a bit of it. x) When I say 'pretty messed up' I mean 'incredibly messed up'. I give up on past tense. My constantly using present has ruined it, har har.

James' point of view. The Marauders find out about Remus. Second year.

When the night falls on you

And you're feeling all alone

You won't be on your own

I'll stand by you

Remus is a werewolf.

It wasn't exactly hard to find out, not when you spend a lot of time with him. It was really quite straight foreword. We only needed a few assurances from the library but that was pretty much it. It didn't take an idiot to find it out, yet you had to pay attention before you could actually notice it properly. Because, I mean, you would never think that a kid that old could be, well. You just would never think it. It would never cross your mind that he wasn't doing whatever he had said he was doing and he was actually doing something he had absolutely no say in and he couldn't change even if he wanted to which, I imagine, he did.

However obvious it was, you would never even think to think it.

It hadn't even crossed our minds, really. It wasn't something really like we were learning about it in class so that's how we found out, no, it was nothing like that. It wasn't anything which would make you think 'oh, that's clever'. It was just a remark, I can't remember who the hell by, saying something about the full moon that night and then there was this sort of pause when something clunked into place.

It was really obvious. It was right in front of us the entire time and we only realized it because of some off remark. It was quite funny, really. I suppose Remus preferred it this way, you know. I didn't blame him for not telling us. I don't reckon I'd tell a soul. I wouldn't be able to cope with it as it was.

My hands were damp and I wiped them on the thighs of my grey school trousers as we walked towards the Hospital Wing. No one was saying anything, which I suppose was different. It was a comfortable silence, if a bit tense. But I suppose it would have to be, wouldn't it? You can't be talking and laughing while you're going to tell your mate that you know the secret he's kept from you for nearly two years. It wouldn't feel right.

"Don't, you know," I muttered, waving a hand faintly as we pause outside the door, the stale smell of cleanliness and crisp sheets already there. I've always hated the smell of hospitals and the infirmary smells just like one because, I suppose, it is one. "Mess him up or anything. Scare him, y'know?"

Sirius made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat and Peter said nothing which meant, I suppose, that I would have to do most of the work. If there would be any work to do, of course. We've never gone to visit Remus in the Hospital Wing because, as far as we were concerned, we would never have to. As far as we were concerned he had only wound up in the Hospital Wing once when his potion exploded because someone put something funny in it and it made his hair turn purple and his nose to grow. At the time we had said we hadn't seen a difference with his nose and his hair was an improvement and, despite myself, I grinned slightly, although it was mainly out of nerves.

I pinched lightly at the bridge of my nose, moving my glasses up, before pushing the door open. There was only three people that I could see; a Hufflepuff seventh year with some odd sort of bumps all over him, and then a Slytherin and a Gryffindor who were on beds pushed together, both of them, I realized faintly, members of the Quidditch team. When I looked closer, I realized that their ankles and wrists had been, in some messed up way, fused together, and I raised an eyebrow.

For a moment I thought we had made a mistake. He wasn't here, that was that, we were wrong and it was all a terrible mistake. But there, at the other end of the wing, was a bed with curtains drawn halfway around it for privacy. We sidled past Madame Pomfrey, who was attempting to defuse the two Quidditch players. There was a pause when we all stood outside the drawn curtains and then I hesitated, lifted a hand, and pulled them back.

My first thought was something along the lines of 'Remus looks absolutely shit'. And damn, he did. He looked like he had been run over by a truck and I heard a small, muffled intake of breath beside me. Despite this, he looked like he always did. He was propped on one elbow, carefully, as if moving anywhere from the place he was would cause him pain, and had his nose buried in a book, which I didn't recognize at all.

At our entrance, Remus looked up, expecting it to be Madame Pomfery, I suppose, and his face froze immediately when he saw us. It wasn't fear or sadness that was laced into his features but, I realized with a jolt, regret. It was then when I figured out that he didn't expect us to do all we could to help him through this and that we were going to stand by him, no matter what. It was then when I realized he'd been let down before and he was expecting it again. He didn't move, just looked at us, waiting.

"Erm," I said, rubbing my nose, "nice food here?"

Idiot.

Remus' expression didn't change and, besides the small flicker of regret, was a complete mask, hiding anything he could be feeling from us.

"We know," Peter said, offhandedly. "By the way." He cocked his head at Remus, as if expecting a reaction from him, but he seemed to be waiting to see how we would react. I could see Sirius out of the corner of my eye chewing on his thumb nail as if he was so hungry and he hadn't anything else to eat.

I sniffed, wanting something to do. I've never been any good at this sort of thing. I could never talk to my parents about anything, even though I wanted to and I'm sure they'd be fine with it. I could never admit to anything and nor, it seemed, could I even talk to my friend. This sparked something inside me and I dug my hands into my pocket, forefinger working away at the skin around my thumb nail.

"It's cool, mate," I said finally. "It doesn't mean anything. I mean, of course it does, I can't imagine, but-."

"James is an idiot," Sirius said flatly. "He means that it's fine with us. We couldn't care less cause you're still, you know, Remus with the big nose and the funny hands." I wondered how he could speak through a mouthful of thumb but didn't say anything. Remus blinked and it was clear that this wasn't what he was expecting. Relief swept his features and he pushed himself up, concealing a slight wince.

"Blimey," he said, finally, a smile breaking out over his features. "Took you lot a while to string on."

Won't let nobody hurt you

I'll stand by you

Take me into your darkest hour

And I'll never desert you

I'll stand by you, The Pretenders