AN - Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed the prologue! I wasn't expecting such a positive response to this and it's definitely spurred me on :D.

Black Sheep

2. The Moon

'You're bleeding.'

James looked down at his leg, noticing for the first time the tear in his jeans and the blood that soaked through the fabric.

'Bugger,' he said. He picked at the fraying threads but made no attempt to heal the wound beneath. There were probably more cuts and bruises and it would be best, he figured, if he took inventory before he started with the spells. It had been a rough night - he just wanted to get through it, to shower and sleep and kiss his wife and put it all behind him.

It was their own fault, really. Remus had a fairly sturdy wine cellar he used for his monthly transformations, but this month they decided to go outside and explore. Which would have worked out wonderfully had the man in question not come down with a cold in the days preceding the full moon. Sickness in the man meant aggression and restlessness in the wolf and it had taken all of their energy to keep it in check and guide it back to the cellar in time for the approaching dawn.

Even Sirius looked significantly worse for wear, covered in dirt and scratches, his long hair tangled and his usually cheerful face twisted into a rather grim expression.

'You think he's going to be okay?' asked Peter. He was the only one of the group who looked no different than usual, having been forced to lay low most of the night.

James looked up to the ceiling, where the wolf, more docile now that the change was upon it, had slunk to the upper level of the cellar, whimpering. Remus never did like them to witness either change, and at this point in the night always seemed to have a little more control over the wolf.

'He'll be fine,' said James, unconvinced. 'Just might feel rough for a few days.'

'I'll stay with him,' volunteered Sirius. 'Don't even bother arguing, Prongs - you have a family.'

Remus, of course, would refuse the help, just as he refused to continue "living off of" Sirius when the option of a house of his own turned up. But they had known him for nine years, and weren't about to start taking "I'm fine" for an answer now.

'He's going to be impossible after this, isn't he?'

James glanced at the cut on his leg, and realised that Peter had made a rather sombre point. Things were different when they left Hogwarts. They were no longer under Dumbledore's protection, no longer had the Shrieking Shack or Madam Pomfrey. They were alone and had to help their friend figure out how to deal with his problem all over again.

For the most part, they had done quite well. For the first year Remus had lived with Sirius and had used the basement of the Order house for his transformations. Then, when Lily and James had married and James's parents had bought them a house, they gave Remus the keys to their old one, complete with its disused wine cellar, and the privacy seemed to have done him and the wolf a world of good.

'Remember in sixth year?' Sirius asked, his voice quiet and nostalgic. 'When we got lost in the Forest and that unicorn took issue with James?'

Peter giggled to himself.

'It knew I was human!'

'It knew you were male, mate,' Sirius laughed. 'You shouldn't have tried to sniff it.'

'And you lot were so helpful.'

'I had a werewolf to keep an eye on! Imagine if we'd lost him.'

'And I was a rat,' said Peter. 'Either one of you could have squashed me.' Silence, for a moment. 'And it was too bloody funny.'

They all roared with laughter. And there it was. The youthful air that had been missing from their lives lately. That had been missing for too long.

'I miss Gryffindor Tower,' said James. 'Remember the after-match parties?'

'No,' said Sirius, smirking.

'Remember the games?' chimed in Peter.

'It's been so long since I played...'

'I miss Slughorn.'

'Debbie Henderson.'

James laughed at Peter's sudden deviation from the theme.

'Padfoot, didn't you lose your virginity to her?'

'Oh yes.'

Peter almost choked on nothing.

'She was two years older than us!'

'Oh yes.'

Peter shook his head incredulously, but seemed to have nothing more to say on the subject of Debbie Henderson. Which was a good thing, really, because amidst the laughter they heard the creaking of a floorboard above them.

'Must be dawn,' James noted.

'Time to wake up,' Sirius agreed.

With one last final look to one another, they rose to their feet and began to make their way upstairs, not quite sure of what they would find.

She woke about ten minutes before he returned, though the light was still dim outside and the bedside clock told a depressing tale. If she had been expecting a hello, she was sorely disappointed. All she was offered was the dull thud of uneven footsteps across the landing, preceding a rush of water from the bathroom. He always preferred to wash off the night before he joined her.

But she remained awake, and blinked back the sleep that tried to reclaim her.

The water shut off, and there was an impatient wait before she heard the bathroom door open again and the footsteps move this time towards the bedroom.

Still, he uttered not a word. But he offered his arms when the bed dipped beneath his weight, wrapped them around her with lips pressing tenderly to the back of her head.

'Knew you were awake,' he whispered. 'You never lie so tense when you're sleeping.'

'Do you watch me sleep often, Potter?'

'As a matter of fact, I do...Potter.'

The corners of her lips tugged into a smile. At least she got to lie with him a little while this morning. The bed was always unusually cold without him.

'Why were you limping?'

It was his turn to tense now.

'Limping?'

Lily rolled onto her back and looked up into her husband's eyes with unease. She knew why he did this, knew why it was essential, and she would never, ever, ask him to stop...but that didn't stop her worrying that he would get hurt.

'Sounded like you were walking funny.'

'Oh that,' said James. And he looked rather sheepish. 'Just caught my leg on a low branch. All healed now.'

'How's Remus?'

James's eyes darkened.

'He's been better. Been worse too. He'll live.'

He brushed his nose against hers and droplets of water fell from his damp hair onto her forehead. She didn't mind. She'd have very much liked to be running her fingers through that damp hair right now, but knew he didn't have the energy for what would inevitably follow.

The next kiss he bestowed fell upon her lips, and she lost herself foolishly to it. It was something that never got old; his smell, his touch, his taste. But it was weakened and fatigued, and she urged it to a close, her fingertips tracing a line up the muscles of his arm.

'Go to sleep,' she urged.

'Much rather be kissing you.'

'You're almost falling asleep on me, James,' she said, smiling. 'I'm not going anywhere. I'll even cook you breakfast later, then we can kiss to our hearts' content.'

With a final peck, he dropped his head to the pillow beside her, though kept an arm around her.

'Sounds like a deal I can accept,' he said.

She followed him into sleep moments later.

The brunette appeared barely a few minutes after he made the call, shaking soot from her robes as she stepped out of Remus's fireplace with an ineffable air of urgency about her. It was perhaps a blessing that Mary Macdonald never made the most graceful entries, because Sirius found himself dozing off in an armchair until the flames roared their welcome.

'Where is he?' she asked.

'Bedroom.' He rubbed at his eyes, yawning against the realisation that she had never visited this house while Remus had occupied it. So, he led the way, every muscle and joint groaning its disapproval at him.

Remus was still sleeping when Mary pushed her way into his bedroom, only a tuft of hair visible amidst the covers. He had barely been conscious when the others had helped Sirius drag him back upstairs and into bed, but when Sirius had tried to rouse him an hour later out of concern he had been completely unresponsive. He didn't know what to do other than call Mary. Not only was she an old school friend, having shared classes and a House with them for seven years, but she was also a trainee healer at St. Mungo's, not to mention privy to Remus's secret. She was also one of the least judgemental people that Sirius knew, and, well, last night hadn't exactly gone as planned.

'Remus,' she said quietly, resting on the edge of his bed. A tired groan was the only answer she got. 'Sirius, can you get me some water, please? Maybe soak a towel too.'

Concern both pulled him away yet brought to him the desire to stay. Nevertheless, he followed Mary's direction and retreated to the kitchen, dragging his feet every step of the way.

The water that ran from the tap was ice cold and he took a moment to run his hands beneath it, watching the dirt wash away. So concerned about Remus had he been, he hadn't even poured himself a glass of water let alone thought about cleaning up. And he thought about Peter, no doubt snoring away right now, and James, comfortable and warm in bed with Lily, and he felt a little envious. But this was just what they did. For Remus. For each other.

By the time the glass was poured and the towel was soaked, Mary had found him.

'Is he-'

'He'll be okay,' she said with a placating smile. 'Bad case of the flu coupled with the stress of a full moon just took it out of him. He just needs to sleep it off.'

'Is that all we can do?'

She smiled again at his concern and reached to take both the glass and the towel from him.

'At least for now,' she said. 'I can give him something to bring his temperature down when he wakes up, but it's been brewing a while - not a lot magic can do that Muggle medicine and good old bed rest can't. I'll leave these by his bed. Go sit down, Sirius, you look shattered.'

He grunted at her advice, but gravitated in the general area of the living room when she left and hit something soft and comfortable that he assumed was the same armchair he had not so long ago vacated.

The silence seemed so loud with the absence of the others, and he was beginning to feel rather on the grimy side. He hadn't even done the usual injury-check, hadn't dared look in a mirror.

He still remembered the first time so clearly. That one night, four years ago, when three idiotic boys crawled through a damp, dark tunnel, knowing full well what was at the end of it and not quite knowing what they were about to do. They were so young and naïve, so caught up in their own brilliance that it never occurred to them that anything could go wrong. Sirius and James had spent most of the night standing perfectly still as the wolf sniffed them judgementally while Peter hid beneath a chair, evidently fully aware that either one of the other three animals in the room could probably swallow him without even chewing.

The wolf had grown to trust them fairly quickly, but there were near-misses in terms of keeping it in line, and there was always that one day a month where they would be exhausted to the point of nodding off in lessons. But what else was History of Magic for?

Things were so different now. If only-

'Sirius!'

He was jolted awake by the sound of his name to find that Mary's face was mere inches from his. He could even smell the shampoo lingering on her long hair.

'Wha'iss't?' he mumbled. It earned him nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

'Did you sleep at all last night?' she asked, backing off an inch or two.

'Sleep?' He yawned at the word. 'Yeah, I...sleep...' The word itself felt as though it could drag him into a deep slumber.

Mary huffed in annoyance and slapped him gently on the cheek. That, at least, brought him back to his senses a little.

'Hey!'

'You need to go home.'

'Remus-'

'Remus is fine,' she insisted. 'He'll probably sleep for most of the day, but I'll stay a little while. You're not doing him or yourself any favours being here. Just look at you!'

With a touch a little less gentle than he expected from a healer, she patted down his entire body, arms, torso, legs, even pressing her fingers to his scalp through the mess his hair had become.

'Mary, what are you-'

'You didn't even stop to think about yourself, did you?'

'I'm hardly a pressing matter.'

Her touch suddenly seemed less harsh. It wasn't often that she became lost for words.

'You're never a pressing matter, are you?' He didn't miss the sarcasm in her voice.

'I'll be fine.'

'Fortunately, I don't doubt that.' Her hands moved to his arms and she hauled him to his feet. Even after all these years it seemed she still retained some of that Quidditch upper-body strength. 'You are going to go home right now. You are going to sleep this off, and when Remus wakes up and inevitably tells me to bugger off, I'm going to come check on you too. Understood?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Can you apparate?'

'I've got it.'

She didn't seem as convinced of his ability as he was, but guided him to the front door anyway.

'If you need me, send your Patronus,' she told him.

The lingering distaste of something a little too close to home for comfort sparked something within him and he smirked at her, half-hanging on the doorframe.

'Say, Macdonald...what's your Patronus?'

She smiled back at him, almost sickly sweet.

'I'll show you when you've had a nap,' she said. 'GO!'

Without further ado, she pushed on his forehead and slammed the door behind him.

'She loves me, really,' Sirius muttered to himself, alone on the doorstep.

Whether or not he was fully capable of disapparating and apparating in his current state was put to the test when he fingered the wand in his pocket and turned on the spot. He did indeed arrive in one piece, but there was not a cottage in sight. At least, not a familiar one.

'Buggeration.'

At the very least, he had apparated to the right village. And who knew, maybe the walk would wake him up a little?

It was a long walk, and the pre-winter chill cut right through him. There weren't many people about this early, just the occasional Muggle out on a morning jog or dog-walk, and the Postman. A milk van trundled past him as he turned off the path out of the main area of the village and took off down the familiar country lane.

It was then that he felt eyes upon him, though he paid it no heed. A man out and about at this time without a coat was worthy of a double take, and growing up in the city he had just gotten so used to finding people wherever he went. But things had changed since then, and a new, wary part of him, made note and inconspicuously took note of his surroundings. If someone was there, they weren't close by.

Perhaps it was just the exhaustion playing tricks on his mind. It was certainly draining him physically, to the point where, his house in sight, he found that he kept missing steps and almost tripped a time or two. It was the most visceral kind of fatigue, prompting aches in parts of him he had previously been unaware of the existence of. And at the end of his road, closer still to his house, the feeling of eyes upon him stronger than ever, his legs finally gave way.

It would have been prudent to immediately pick himself up, but he just lay there, face-down in the grass, waiting for whatever would come next. Mary would kill him, he knew that much. Because he distinctly remembered hitting his head at some point the previous night, and it had evidently had more of an effect than he had assumed. He had suffered his fair share of concussions in the past, he knew what to expect. But wasn't the trick with a head injury to stay awake?

'Sirius!'

A familiar voice called out his name. He should have reacted, should have responded, but he took the emotion it provoked as a sign that he was safe now, that he could let go and everything would be...