"Hey, are you okay?"

Remus grimaced down at the table. His head was pounding, the stench of breakfasts making him feel queasy. He'd barely managed to drag himself out of bed that morning, and when he had it had taken the most of his energy to make it appear that nothing was wrong. That he didn't want to just curl up into a ball and fall back to sleep. That he desperately wanted to turn back time, even if it were only a couple of days, to when he'd been laughing and grinning and been too overwhelmed by the beauty of his new home to worry about the coming full moon. He'd been shocked back into reality this morning. During the past couple of days he'd pushed the discomforts and aches and pains aside, because he wanted to enjoy his time here, he really did, and he'd never been somewhere so immediately homely and wondrous and comforting. Perhaps that's why the reality had been so easy to ignore. Because he had been surprised, and that distracted him from his worries, his fears.

"Remus?"

His mind swam at the noise of the other students. The hundreds of innocent kids who didn't know there was a monster lurking amidst them. The countless children who weren't going to spend the following morning ripping things to shreds. The teens that were laughing along with friends that Remus realised he would never truly be able to have because he was different. He was so different, so isolated even in such a place as this, and he had no choice but to keep it hidden. He had to lie, he had to cover up the bloodstained tracks he would make along the way because if they knew, if they knew…

"Remus, are you feeling alright?"

Remus glanced up. James was looking expectantly across to him, with slight concern marring his expression. The boy had been grinning this morning, when he'd tugged at the curtains around Remus' bed to wake him up. He wasn't grinning now, though. That was Remus' fault, of course. Remus licked his lips nervously, and nodded.

"You look a bit peaky. Are you sure everything's alright? You're not feeling ill, are you?"

Remus shook his head, feeling like the whole world was going to start spinning.

"Perhaps you're feeling homesick." The second voice was much smaller: Peter gave a sympathetic smile to Remus – who thoroughly didn't deserve sympathy. He was a monster. A disgrace.

"Yeah," James nodded. "Don't worry, you'll soon get used to being away from home."

Home. Home, where his parents were, probably worrying about tomorrow morning for Remus. Home, where, behind a severely shackled and bolted door, there led deep down to a basement with bare walls and bare floors, no light and no warmth. Home, where he tore that cell of a room to pieces every month, spattered blood in the form of his true nature. Home, where he would lie in his room for days on end with broken bones and stinging wounds.

Remus swallowed, and nodded again, managing to offer James a small smile before he went back to staring down into the wood of the table.

Sirius pointedly avoided looking across towards the Slytherin table. As the owls came diving through the hall, he chewed down at his lip. He wasn't nervous. He wasn't. Snape had only been… provoking him, as James had said. What did Snivellus know, anyway? The slime ball. Just trying to find a way to get back at him for their joking around. Not that Sirius would put it past Bellatrix to go snitching about him to his parents; that was exactly the kind of thing she'd revel in doing.

Remus clung on to this idea of him being homesick, and decided to traipse back to the dormitory. The walk there strained him enough, so he was relieved to fall back down onto his bed. The other three won't ask any questions for now, with them having labelled his odd behaviour as homesickness. But that excuse wasn't going to be able to work for the next seven years. He needed something else; perhaps even lots of somethings, so that they don't notice a pattern… it was just difficult to think of something liable, especially with his mind churning through waves of nausea. Glad though he was of the fact that Dumbledore had created great precautions to ensure others' safety, Remus had that little voice in the back of his mind doubting whether it would be enough. Whether he should simply just cut himself off from everybody else, focus on the education that he'd come here for… but that wasn't what he'd told the Sorting Hat, was it? More than anything, he wanted to be treated like everyone else, as someone normal. And yet he couldn't believe that he was. Not yet. Not at the precipice of his transformation, that was for certain. He was scared, scared for the rest of the school, all the ways this could go wrong… he didn't want to hurt anyone, but there was every chance he could. He was endangering them all simply by him being here. Remus groaned as he argued with himself, backtracking on his own thoughts and ending up with a greater headache to deal with. Now was not the time to be making things worse for yourself, he thought sternly.

Remus lay there miserably as the day drew on. His senses were spiking, growing ever more attentive to his surroundings; even the sound of his heartbeat pounded like the toll of a drum, thundering through his ears. Fortunately for him, the other dormitory members hadn't returned, so Remus had at least been left in peace. His eyes were closed from the rest of the world, and the cogs of his mind started to slow. The last full moon seemed so long ago, despite it only being a few weeks. Normally, the moon felt like a constant presence, since it was the only thing he could really do. Years of being cut off and isolated held back opportunities to draw his thoughts from the next time he was going to transform, and now he was suddenly here, under a fresh, new roof, with magic quite literally at his fingertips, and so the previous events of the moon had shrunk away, not able to grip its hold as tightly upon Remus. Of course, now, with it barely hours away, and the reaction to his new home having died down, his thoughts began to swim to familiar fears.

Such thoughts hadn't relinquished from him much later into the evening, as Remus made his way to the hospital wing. Luckily, now knowing how to get there, it didn't take too long, and he was able to slip inside and inform his presence to Madam Pomfrey quickly before flopping down to a cool, neatly procured bed. The curtains were drawn around him, and Remus concentrated on the sounds of Madam Pomfrey pottering around his enclosed space, for much as his head ached, he was far from getting a decent sleep and those sounds of soft footsteps and clinking phials were easier to focus on than the sound of his breathing. He hadn't bothered to go down to the Great Hall for dinner; he realised groggily that his disappearance may rouse suspicions and confusion, but Remus was sure that him having gone down there would bring up far more questions about his wellbeing – not that many people would take much notice to him anyway, being a small, quiet first year.

"Remus, dear, it's time to get up."

He hadn't gotten any sleep – not that he'd expected to. His mind was wired into panicking through the most of the night, worried about the horrendous list of 'what if's' that could happen. He dragged himself out from under the covers and got shakily to his feet, to feel a reassuring hand at his shoulder. Madam Pomfrey led him out from the hospital wing and through on to the grounds; the sky was still dark in the early morning, and Remus felt sick to his stomach. The silhouette of the Whomping Willow loomed into view – Remus stared in mingled shock and horror at the gargantuan mass of flailing branches. That was a tree? A sudden swarm of guilt invaded his already giddy mind. He was the reason for this… tree, to be at this school. The warnings Dumbledore had given on their first evening suddenly made a lot more sense. That tree looked capable of putting up a pretty good fight. As if Remus being here in the first place wasn't dangerous enough. Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and, at her instruction, a forlorn twig lifted up from the ground and floated betwixt the thrashing branches; it skimmed through the air and prodded a large knot upon the trunk. All at once, the tree ceased in its movement. Remus gaped, as Madam Pomfrey gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze and coaxed him forward, towards the tree. As they neared, Remus saw an opening amongst the roots – a passageway? Remus had to admire Dumbledore's ingenuity as Madam Pomfrey helped him scoot down and drop down into the passageway, plunging into a darkness much thicker than the outdoors.

Remus shivered as they trekked through the dank twisting dirt path, for it was quite cold under the ground. His muscles were screaming at him to stop moving, but he ignored their pleading, concentrating directly ahead of him. The walk seemed to last hours: eventually the path narrowed to a small opening. Remus scrambled through with the last of his waning energy, Madam Pomfrey giving him a hand but not following after him.

"This is where you'll be staying during your transformation," she informed through the small space. "This space won't be big enough for you to get through as a werewolf, so don't worry about any chances of that. I'll be back in a couple of hours to help you back." She gave him a small smile, and bid him luck for the hours ahead. Remus watched as her form tottered away, before turning around.

He was stood in a creepy looking house, and whilst he was grateful for such hospitality in isolating his wolf form, his heart sank. The walls were bare, a tinged muddy beige hue, and the floor was dusty wooden planks that creaked as Remus moved around. His eyes caught sight of a staircase, and so he scooted over and stumbled up the stairs, to find a door that led into a spacious room. There were large, grimy glass windows, looking out into the early morning – at least it wasn't midnight, Remus thought. He hated those full moons, because the moon itself was much brighter. Now, however, there was just a dull eerie glow enveloping the room, which sent a chill down Remus' spine, but nothing more. Remus flexed his hands nervously as he regarded the room; the prison made just for him, to spend the next seven years. Well, the amount of time he'd manage to get through at this school before being kicked out, at least.

Remus always hated this part of the transformation: the waiting. He stripped down, not wanting to rip his pyjamas to shreds, and scoured the room for somewhere to store them. He found a loose floorboard, and tugged it up, stuffing his clothes there and closing it back up. He paced to the centre of the room, then walked towards a corner in the room. He needed the walls to lean on, no longer having the strength to hold himself up. He was shaking, incredulously so, and every inch of him ached. The moon was to be at its full capacity in mere minutes, and already he was a trembling heap on the floor. Remus – not for the first time – wondered why on earth Dumbledore had been so insistent upon him coming to this school. Why would anyone want him anywhere? At home, the transformations had been painful, but it had almost felt normal; it was something the whole family understood and prepared for every month. But here, as a student, it dawned on Remus just how different he was from everyone else. If he were normal, he would be peacefully asleep in his dormitory. He would never miss a class, wouldn't have to worry about precautions or getting too attached to people in case they started to see him for what he was. Instead, here he was; curled up in the corner of a strange, unfamiliar house that creaked of its own accord, spending his days around the moon with fear that it was obvious something was up. He desperately wanted to make friends, but there was a constant voice in his head telling him just how bad of an idea that was.

Remus' heart rate began to increase rapidly, blood rushing through his veins with gusto. His bones clicked and cracked; Remus whimpered as they popped out of place and grew under his skin, rearranging themselves into their new form. His hair grew thicker and darker; atop his head it retracted back into his skull, and across his body hair grew and pierced through his skin like hundreds of needles. His hands curled as his fingers lengthened, going crooked as his nails sharpened and became more pointed. His spine arched; his teeth grew painfully, splitting his gums. Remus let out a moan of pain; it spiralled in pitch to a low growl, the last thing he heard before the mind of the wolf took over, and Remus was no more.

He didn't know what woke him up, hours later – the creaking of the house, the scent of blood, or the drumming of his erratic heartbeat. Remus groaned as he stirred, his mind in disarray. He blinked slowly, the effort straining him. He blearily looked around the scope of the room. The wolf had not been pleased with its new residence; he could tell that just from the pain he was in. The wolf had been angry. He'd even taken a swipe at the house, Remus noted, his eyes trailing across the gouge marks scraped along the wall. Remus sat himself up, lacking the energy to voice his pain, and crawled over to the floorboard where he'd kept his clothing. He pulled it out, but saw no point in putting it on; having blood-soaked attire would be as bad as them being shredded remains. He curled up into a ball, shivering in the emptiness, the sting of cool air on his damaged skin.

Sometime after, Remus picked up the sound of footfalls treading along a dirt path – Madam Pomfrey. He listened as she muttered a charm, and stepped into the house itself. He caught the sound of a muffled gasp, and assumed from that that the wolf must have taken a trip downstairs too during its rampage. Creaking footsteps echoed across the stairs and onto the landing; Madam Pomfrey appeared at the door with a large blanket in hand. She walked to him and cleared up the blood – Remus didn't have the vitality to be embarrassed at his own naked form, more focused on wanting to be free from the pain he was in. He was swathed in the blanket, and Remus snuggled further into the realms of warmth as he was bundled up into Pomfrey's arms – he saw no point in insisting he could walk, because they both knew he really couldn't. As they exited the house, Remus' eyelids fell heavy and sunk, closing off the rest of the world as he nodded off out of pure exhaustion.

-oooO0Oooo-

"You know, I haven't seen that Remus kid at all today," James commented to Sirius as they headed back to their dormitory.

"He might've got up early, because I didn't see him this morning," Sirius said. They darted through the common room and headed up the staircase to the boys' dorms.

"He didn't look too good yesterday," James reminded, "Must be feeling really homesick."

"That's must be difficult. I know I'm not homesick, though."

"Not even a bit?"

Sirius shook his head. He pushed open the dormitory door and sauntered in, clambering onto his bed; James followed in after him.

"I kinda miss home, but not much – I mean, we're in Hogwarts," James exclaimed simply. "Hogwarts, ya know? I've looked forward to coming here for years."

Sirius made to reply, but was interrupted by a tapping at the dormitory window. He frowned, and pushed off from his bed, going over and opening up the window. An owl flew in, letter clasped in its beak, and landed gracefully onto Sirius' bed. Sirius and James stared as it dropped the letter down, ruffled its feathers, and soared back out of the room again.

"Hey," James murmured, eyeing the dark crimson envelope, "that doesn't look good."

Sirius' heart sank. A part of him wanted to keep away from the letter, knowing full well all about Howlers, but the other part of him just wanted it over with. He strode over: it was, as he'd suspected, a Howler. Sirius hopped back down onto his bed, cross legged, and picked up the envelope. The handwriting was obvious; his mothers'. Sirius glanced over to James, who was peering over at him with curiosity and concern. James caught him looking, and straightened, looking every bit a deer caught in headlights. "You don't want me to listen, do you?"

"It's fine; it can't be that bad," Sirius dismissed, as he tore the envelope open. The pair watched as the letter swung up into the air and began to speak: Sirius winced at the reminder of his mother's voice, screeching in his ears.

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK. YOU HAD ONE OPPORTUNITY TO DO YOUR FAMILY PROUD; I WASN'T EXPECTING MUCH OUT OF YOU, BUT I'D'VE THOUGHT THAT YOU'D HAVE AT LEAST MANAGED THE ONE TASK OF GETTING INTO SLYTHERIN HOUSE. OF COURSE YOU SETTLE FOR GRYFFINDOR! I AM FRANKLY APPALLED; ALL THESE YEARS YOU'VE BEEN AN ABSOLUTE MENACE TO OUR FAMILY, AND TO FIND YOU'VE SUNK EVEN LOWER – THINK OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS; THINK OF HOW THIS WILL AFFECT OUR REPUTATION, HOW IT'LL AFFECT REGULUS! IT FILLS ME WITH UTTER HORROR THAT YOU ARE THE ONE TO BE HEIR OF THE BLACK FAMILY. I WANT YOU BACK OVER THE HOLIDAYS SO WE CAN REMIND YOU OF YOUR PLACE IN OUR FAMILY – YOU'D BETTER START GETTING YOUR ACT TOGETHER UNTIL THEN! I DON'T WANT TO BE HEARING ANY MORE FAILINGS OF YOURS THROUGH YOUR DEAR COUSIN, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

The letter tore itself up into shreds after the final words had been spat at Sirius, who was trembling despite doing his best in keeping stoic to her words. Silence swamped the room as Sirius stared where the letter had just been, stuck between hating his mother for being so ridiculous, and feeling dispirited for not being able to have ever been seen as anything more than a disappointment in his parents' eyes. He overheard an uncomfortable shift on the bed beside him, and remembered that James was still there, having heard the whole thing. Sirius attempted a grin, and muttered, "Well, that could have been a lot worse."

James gaped at him. "Worse? You've had worse?! Sirius…" He jolted up and bounded across onto Sirius' bed. He gawked at Sirius for several moments, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to figure out what to say. "I… you… Was that your mum?"

Sirius nodded. "Sounds lovely, doesn't she," he grimaced.

"Does she treat you like that often?"

Sirius scoffed, "That was her being relatively nice," he said. Seeing James' reaction to this, he hastily added, "But usually she prefers to ignore me."

James' shoulders sank as he stared at Sirius exasperatedly. "I didn't realise there were families that could be like that," he mumbled. "Although… you said they're all from Slytherin, didn't you?" He gave a small grin, and Sirius let out a breathy chuckle. James faltered, before looking down to his hands. "You wouldn't find it weird if I hugged you, right?"

Sirius' brow furrowed in confusion. "Hugged me? Why?"

James put his arms around Sirius and pulled him into a hug. Sirius stiffened at first, the comforting feeling unfamiliar to say the least, and felt all the more confused. When James wouldn't let go, Sirius relaxed a little; he found this oddly reassuring.

"My mum always hugs me whenever I feel sad," James explained quietly.

"I'm not sad."

James paused, feeling like he should point out that no one could surely come out from that letter completely unscathed, but decided to let it go for now. He hugged Sirius tighter, then pulled away, to grin at the other boy. "I don't mean to be rude, but your family's pretty rubbish."

Sirius snorted. "That was the definition of rude," he retorted, before nodding in agreement. "But it's true, I suppose. Not all of them are like my mother, though. Well, most of them are… but there's a couple that are alright."

"Hey, maybe you could join my family instead," James piped up, his grin growing wider.

"You wish," Sirius replied; James made a face at him and Sirius giggled. The mild embarrassment of James having an insight to Sirius' family affairs diminished completely, and Sirius gave James a grateful smile before reciprocating what was quickly becoming a competition in who could make the stupidest face, letting the thoughts of the Howler float away from the forefront of his mind.

A/N: This chapter was surprisingly hard to write. Finally finished it though; my apologies for it taking a while.

Hope you're liking it so far! Reviews would be lovely - constructive criticism is appreciated as well if I've made any mistakes :)