Remus wasn't feeling so good. He had pulled the curtains over the windows in the Common Room, but he could still feel the full moon rising in the sky. It was an itch he couldn't scratch; an ache that built into a scream. It was only 7 o'clock, but the anticipation was driving him mad.
In all honesty, transformations at Hogwarts were much better than he had imagined. Though he had been eager to come to school, he had secretly feared being locked in a shack during the transformation. It was terrible everywhere he went, but his mother and father had always tried to make him comfortable at home. School wasn't about coddling children, so he hadn't been sure how it would all go. Dumbledore hadn't lied about the safety precautions, so Remus could rest easily in the regard. What he hadn't expected was the pleasant, helpful company that he had during the transformation.
"Remus?" Sirius looked at him expectantly. Remus raised an eyebrow at the other first year, not bothering to look up from his book. Sirius was halfheartedly writing a History of Magic essay, but much of the energy that ought have gone into the assignment was being spent urging Remus to let him copy his essay. Remus usually could not have been convinced. This was a normal exchange for the boys, and they all knew the outcome. Sirius would beg, Remus would refuse, Peter would write his own essay while watching their back and forth.
It was the end of April now, so the boys had already fallen into an easy friendship. Mostly easy, at least. The only tension was all on Remus' part. The sore spot was that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. Despite his fantasies of acceptance from his dearest friends, he was surely fooling himself when he imagined that they could bear to be near him when they knew what he was. So while Remus would normally have refused to let Sirius copy his paper, he was too worried that this would be the month everything he had built collapsed around him.
When he shoved his own essay towards Sirius, both of the other boys looked at him with surprise.
"Look at that, Pete," Sirius crooned with a grin. "I've finally broken him. The rest of our time here will be spent like kings. We'll hardly have to do our own homework at all."
"Maybe we can get him to find the kitchens for us next," Peter said with a smirk.
Remus playfully grabbed at the essay. "If that's how you're going to thank me, I'll take it back. I deserve better than you prats."
"No, Remmy, please." Sirius clutched the essay close to his chest dramatically. "You are the true king here, I promise."
Remus settled back against the squishy armchair, mock-satisfied. "It's good to know you see who's really in charge here."
"You mean me?" James Potter's voice came seemingly out of nowhere, but the boys had grown used to that back in the fall. Towards the beginning of the school year, parts of being friends with a Hogwarts ghost had been alarming. His ability to become invisible was only one part of it. When any of them accidentally brushed against him, the chills were almost overwhelming. He didn't talk about how he died, and none of them wanted to ask. Remus thought that Sirius might know something about it, but Remus thought that they were all entitled to secrets.
"Of course," Sirius said hurriedly. "You have my allegiance. Long live the King."
The boys burst into laughter. James had a soft spot for death-related jokes, much to Sirius' delight. At times like this, Remus could almost imagine that they were a normal group of boys. Almost. If he hadn't known why James was there, he may have been able to lose himself in the fantasy.
When the laughter stopped, James turned to Remus. "Your mum is-"
Peter cut in, surprised. "She's sick? Again?" Nobody had yet had the nerve to ask what was wrong with her, and Remus was thankful for it. He wasn't sure how he would reply.
"Yep. She wants you to come home for a day or two." James shrugged apologetically, and Remus slowly stood. He had mastered the face of reluctant resignation, and Sirius and Peter looked at him pityingly. They said their goodbyes.
James floated with Remus out to the grounds, where a cat waited impatiently. Even as a cat, McGonagall was severe. She gave Remus the same gentle glance that she gave him every month before darting forward to press a knot on the Whomping Willow. The tree quieted so he could enter, James floating after him.
James had been Remus' escort to the Shrieking Shack since the second full moon at the castle. McGonagall had walked him the first time, and it had been a horrible transformation. The more afraid he is, the more painful it is. Remus was always afraid, but he had never been so completely alone. Afterwards, when he was in the hospital room, James found him. He told Remus that the ghosts and teachers had all talked about a werewolf student, but James hadn't known it was him. Much to Remus' surprise, James not only treated him exactly the same, but he didn't tell anybody. Remus' secret was safe, and he had a friend to walk him to his doom.
The Shack was a wreck of a place, but Remus was never bothered by it. He told the professors not to bother repairing everything, since he would only destroy it about a month later. It was a waste of time, and Remus wasn't a stickler for cleanliness anyway. Sirius and Peter were always teasing him about being a slob.
Remus sat cross-legged on the floor of the shack. He never brought anything to do in the hours preluding the transformation. There was no point bringing entertainment that he would shred a few hours later. James had come often enough to know that silence was usually better. Remus had never been a nervous talker. He wasn't much of a nervous anything. James was there as emotional support, not a goofy friend. James had realized immediately upon his discovery of Remus' condition that he could stay throughout the transformation. He may not have been able to help physically, but Remus liked the company. If he had to be afraid and in pain, he may as well have the support of a loved one.
"Remus?" James was uncharacteristically serious, so Remus met his eyes. In that moment, Remus could feel the age difference between them. Remus had turned 12 over a month ago. James looked around 17, but in reality Remus thought he must be years older. In his 20s, perhaps.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"You know that Sirius and Peter wouldn't care, right?"
Remus shrugged noncommittally. "I guess so." He didn't guess so. Remus harbored the deep, unshakeable fear that nobody could want a werewolf. After all, Sirius was raised by some of the most closeminded people in Britain. They had slowly been teaching Sirius what was wrong with his upbringing, but only so much could be done. If most wizards were disgusted by werewolves, Sirius couldn't be blamed if he hated Remus too. Peter had probably been raised to fear him, so Remus refused to get his hopes up.
"No," James insisted. "They care about you. You'll have to tell them someday."
"I know." That was the truth, at least. Remus' mother couldn't be an excuse for 7 years. She had only worked this long because the boys had never seen her. Someday the excuses would run out. "I know, but I can't tell them. Nobody can tell them yet."
James said nothing, so the boys sat in silence.
There wasn't a specific time that the transformation hit every month. Sometimes it would hit him shortly after 10, other months he wouldn't feel it coming until midnight. He preferred it when it came earlier. The anticipation was almost too much sometimes.
This month, it came just before 11. He felt his shoulders start to hunch over first, and a nervous moan escaped. James' head shot up.
"Remus? Is it starting?" It was a useless question. Remus couldn't have answered it anyway. His teeth were already elongating. "Okay," James whispered. "It's fine. You'll be okay. I'll be here the whole time."
Remus couldn't say anything, but when the bones in his legs started to shift, he screamed. James laid a freezing hand against his shoulder. The hand couldn't settle against him, but the cold was a welcome relief from the agonizing burning that came with the transformation.
"I'm not going anywhere, Remus, okay? You are safe with me." Those were the last words Remus heard before he blacked out.
When Remus woke up in the hospital room, James was with him. James was always with him when he woke up. It was a welcome sight, but Remus was always sort of embarrassed. By the time he was conscious, Madame Pomfrey had already healed most of his cuts and bruises, but Remus knew that James had never left his side. James could not stop the Whomping Willow to let Remus into the Shrieking Shack, and he could not carry Remus back to the hospital wing after the night was over, but he could be the guardian Remus had always lacked. James performed his role admirably, but that meant he always saw Remus at his worst.
"Hey," Remus croaked. "Whatcha got?"
James gestured to a mound of chocolate bars on the bedside table. Remus didn't know where James got the candy, and he didn't know how James delivered it to the room, but the ghost never failed to bring Remus' favorite candies every month. At the end of the day, while Remus napped, James would find a way to get Remus' favorite trousers and sweater delivered. It was a mysterious tradition, but Remus appreciated all of it.
Really, Remus appreciated everything James did to help him. James could be an exhausting friend to have, what with the invisibility, frequent disappearances, and cold touches. The knowledge that James was dead was often pushed to the back of their minds, but it would inevitably lead to loss for all of them. James was trapped here, and they were not. He would not be able to write them letters. He could not come to visit them. He may never see them again after graduation. James was a ghost, and that was an unavoidable truth. All the same, James was a loyal friend. He was almost the mother of the friend group he had created. James had brought together 3 misfit boys and a ghost, and the group that resulted were the only friends Remus had ever had. They were the only people that had ever accepted Peter, and the only people to love Sirius in the way Sirius had always needed. James was a ghost, but he gave them better lives than they could ever have created on their own.
