Disclaimer: I own nothing. Aside from a few smelly socks littering my bedroom floor, which may or may not be making a guest appearance in later chapters… It's all JK's.

Author's notes: Once again, it's a long time coming. But hey, you didn't have to wait over a year this time! And once again, it's a fairly short offering. On the upside, I actually have plans now! I now know where this is going, so hopefully you can forgive me.


Gazing into the mirror, I can hear the whoops and yells coming from the Quidditch pitch. They don't really register; I just stare endlessly at the reflection I no longer recognise. The eyes have not changed, the face structure has not been mutated and distorted; everything is exactly the same as when I last checked. And yet, I feel no connection with these lips, these hands, and this body. Can they really be mine? The same lips that did that. It doesn't bear thinking about, though it's all that I can do. As punishment I force myself to say it in my head: the same lips that kissed Remus'. My stomach convulses in response, though I'm not sure why. Far from feeling like I might regurgitate my last meal (I know that's what I should be feeling, I know it…), the thought of my best friends' lips upon mine encourages a far more worrying sensation; I think this might be what they call butterflies. That can't be right, though; my body must just be confused… Come to think of it, I'm sure that last treacle tart I had last night looked dodgy. That's the only explanation, right?

I'm an over-bubbling cauldron of a million and one different emotions; I can't disentangle one from another. Am I disgusted? The repulsion I conveyed to Peter and James may not have been entirely my own; I've been swarmed in confusion ever since the incident yet when I replay the scene in my head, my instant reaction is not one of disgust. I know that's what I should be feeling; I know, because Peter's face told me so. I couldn't risk losing them, so I came out with the first thing that came into my mind. To save my own skin from Peter's revulsion, and from the risk that James, after some thought, might feel the same. I saved my own neck and traded it in for Remus'. People think of me as the brave one, of the two of us, but that's just front. All I have is false confidence and a swagger that could very nearly charm the holey pants off Snape. But Remus, he'd never have done this. Even upon confrontation with the others, he didn't argue. He never tried to tell them how it really happened; some people might assume he's cowardly but I know him inside out and I know he was protecting me, even after I betrayed him. He wouldn't tell them the truth because I didn't want him to. Which is ridiculous, really. He's protecting me? After what I did?

Sweet mother of Merlin, never mind how I'm going to live with myself after this, I don't know how I can let Moony go through this; he's the best friend I've got. Sure, James and Peter are fantastic, but Moony and I… We've always had an unspoken bond; we're the pair within the group. A bond perhaps created by a mutual sense that neither of us really belong; him, a werewolf and me, the black sheep of the Black family.

Of course… That particular unspoken bond might have become, in recent times, a little more… Well, can I really bring myself to think it, never mind say it? To admit to myself even, with no one intruding upon my most intimate thoughts, just me and myself; this should be the easiest thing in the world. And Merlin knows, now that I look back in retrospect, this – this what? The furtive glances, the touches that last a split second too long, the desire to spontaneously kiss him; what do you call that? – this tension between us has existed long enough that I should be comfortable with it by now. Except that, whilst it may have been right in front of my nose, I never saw it for what it was until now. I'm attracted to another boy. Not just any boy, Remus. Sweet, kind, intelligent Remus… Who is Merlin knows where right now doing only Merlin knows what because of me and my big, stupid, blundering, thoughtless actions!

I've got to find him. I don't know what I could ever say to make this right; are words enough? To be honest, they're all I have. Well, I suppose, there is one thing I could do… Would it seem cheap, thoughtless? Would it only serve to make everything worse? Perhaps there's a way I could pull this off, without risking any more of what chance of friendship I have left with Moony. My Moony.