It is only the second summer of full moons since James, Sirius, and Peter completed their transformation, so I am still not accustomed to how easy full moons suddenly are - well, as easy as they can possibly be, at the very least - outside of Hogwarts. No classes to miss, classmates to explain to, or homework to catch up on. I don't have to trudge through dark, rocky passageways as I bleed, or climb flights of moving stairs with barely recovered limbs - outside Hogwarts, side-along Apparation is the instantaneous alternative. Nothing but a run through the woods only minutes away from my house with my three best mates.

And, of course, I can hardly complain when, instead of waking up on the hard, dusty floor of the Shack, I wake up in my own bed with my hand resting in Sirius'. Smiling before I can fully open my eyes and register all the ache and fatigue, all I can see is the blurry form of Sirius, asleep in a chair he has brought beside my bed, and my torso bandaged and healing. Tentatively, I blink a few times to adjust to the light. Only then do I see that James and Peter are passed out on Sirius' bed, shoving at each other in their sleep for more space.

I consider letting them get their rest and going back to sleep, but as I ease into my blankets once more, I feel a sharp jabbing pain in my shoulder blades. Wincing, I try to ignore it and just sleep on my side, but as I shift, I feel a bad bruise on my hip, and flinch. Before I can adjust into another position, I feel the hand around mine tighten.

When I look up, he's rubbing at his eyes with his other hand, and sitting up straight, leaning closer to me. "Hey, Moony, what do you need?"

I open my mouth and breathe in before answering, but I end up groaning, clutching at my side.

He frowns, shaking his head. "You must have injured a rib," he mutters, his hand leaving mine, and reaches over to my bedside table.

My eyes follow his hand and it's only then when I see the array of vials of potions and potted essences lined up in a tray. There are bandages and gauzes stacked up at the edge. Next to them are mini pots of crushed herbs and Honeywater. Before I can stop myself, I chuckle.

As Sirius unscrews one of the bottles, he raises an eyebrow at me. "What are you laughing about?"

"I don't get that beaten up anymore, Sirius," I say. "And yet it looks like you emptied the entire Hospital Wing before leaving school."

"I didn't," he protests. "Made these potions myself."

Looking at the bottles and pots again, I shake my head in disbelief. "As much as I'm impressed, you are overreacting with this whole tending thing."

He makes a face at me. "Shut it, you. I'm not."

"Sirius, you labelled everything with color coded markers," I point out.

He sticks his tongue out at me childishly before reaching over to help me sit up. "Shut up and drink, Lupin."

I grin as I rest my back against the headboard, trying to ignore the searing pain at my side. He hands me the small bottle, and murmurs, "Drink the whole thing, okay? It'll help with the bruises as well."

Downing the potion, I feel a rush of warmth down my throat, and the pain starts to ease. I set the potion down along with the other bottles and tentatively touch the bruise on my hip, relieved to feel close to no pain at all.

"Thanks, Sirius," I mumble. "How'd you stop my mother from hovering over me this time?"

He smiles. "Well, she helped us get you settled and everything. She was only convinced that she could leave you to us when she saw how pro I am at this, so..." he trails off, shrugging in fake nonchalance.

I laugh, and I don't even mind how it hurts my ribs. "You're such an idiot."

He rolls his eyes. "Stop that, or I'm not going to help those cuts on your face."

Unconsciously, my fingers fly up to my cheek and I wince, feeling the sting.

"Hey, easy there," he murmurs, his tone serious again. He takes a cotton ball from one of the pots and dips it into the Murlap Essence. With one hand, he cradles my face, tilting it to an angle so that he can apply it easily. He leans closer as he dabs it on the cut. I don't know which one I feel first, the relief of the pain disappearing slowly or his warm breath against my jaw.

I try to dismiss the thoughts, thinking of Anthony and how I was supposed to be with him last night if not for the full moon. But under Sirius' touch, it's hard to think of much else.

When he's done, he takes a few small butterfly band aids and gingerly places them over my cuts, one by one.

It's only when he meets my gaze that I realize I've been staring into his eyes.

"Yeah?" he murmurs.

"I...um...Nothing."

A confused smiles appears on his face. Suddenly, James groans from the other bed, and Sirius leans away from me and turns around just in time to miss how red I probably look right now.

"Yeah, mate?" he asks a barely-awake James.

"I said," James drawls sleepily, "that if you two make out again, I'm going to be so done."

Before Sirius even responds to that, I hurl a pillow at James, hitting him right in the face.

"I was just kidding!"

The next week, James and Sirius are working on the flat again. Peter is off visiting some relatives in Bulgaria for a couple days. So that leaves me here, preparing to meet up with Anthony...which, I now realize isn't such a thrilling idea, given how the past few days have played out. It's been full of Sirius. Sirius and stolen glances and accidental touches and subtle flirting and almost-kisses. Sirius with his stupid rough hands and stupid gray eyes and stupid full mouth. And it all would have been harmless. I would have felt no guilt about any of these things.

If only my feelings for Anthony didn't start to fade away.

The thing is, I still care for him. I still like talking to him. I still love him. But, at this point, it has become a matter of whether I'm in love with him. And I know that the answer to that has never been yes.

I mean, I still like him the way I'm supposed to. I still feel the passion when we whisper into the phone late at night. It was hardly noticeable at first, only the little things started to persist. The way I didn't feel like calling him first on some nights or how I couldn't stay up all night talking to him anymore. I figured that that was normal. That it just meant I needed space. However, gradually little things turned into more awkward situations like conversations with Lily ("How's the boyfriend?" "Boyfriend? Lily we're not doing anything, I swear. Just give it a rest, okay? Everything's fine." "...I meant Anthony, Remus."), or lying to Anthony about what I'm doing or who I'm with when I'm really with Sirius - even if we're just lounging around reading comic books. Anthony is still as important to me as ever, but my feelings for Sirius were starting to catch up with me again. They were never really far behind. Of course, spending everyday with Sirius did nothing to help the dilemma.

I stare at my reflection, wanting to hex it, as I adjust my jacket. Only then do I realize I'm wearing his leather jacket.

Groaning in exasperation, I yank it off and throw it at his bed.

"Remus, honey?"

Turning around, I see my mother frowning at me worriedly and crossing her arms in the doorway. It's her day off - anyone can tell. Her hair is in a messy bun held together by a couple of paintbrushes, her hands are stained with dried blots of color, and her face is bare of any make up.

"Yeah?"

"What's the matter? You feeling okay?"

I force a smile. "Yeah, mom. Just a bit exhausted. Might take a nap or something."

She looks at me up and down, scoffing. "Dressed like that?"

I try to look her in the eye and fail miserable. "Yeah...I'm just...Fuck, there's no way around this, is there?"

Mom laughs, shaking her head. "First of all, honey, watch your language. Second, no there isn't. Where you headed?"

"Hang out with Peter.'

Raising her eyebrows, she almost looks amused at my attempt. "Well, I know I've been liberal, but I'm bit hesitant to let you go to Bulgaria at the moment."

She could have just called me out, but no. She's mom. Of course she has to taunt me by playing along.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. "Okay, fine. I'm just meeting up with a friend from school, okay?"

"Friend?" she asked, smirking. "You never brush your hair or shower this early for your friends. You're rarely out of bed before noon, Remus," she points out. Then, she adds, "Are those new jeans? They look very tight."

"Mom," I whine childishly, probably reminding my mother of what I sounded like ten years ago when I was asking for ice cream. "We're just going to hang out or something, I reckon."

She laughs again, her eyes shining. "Is that what you kids call dates now?"

I grimace. "You're horrible."

She makes a challenging Yes But Am I Wrong? face.

Giving up, I sigh. "Okay, okay, you're right. Please don't make a big deal about it," I plead, glaring at her.

"I'm not!" she insists, however, the corners of her mouth keep twitching like she's trying to hold it in. "So, this boy..."

"Mom, can we not-"

"How are things between you two? Is he someone I know? How long have you two been...whatever you're doing?" she asks, apparently trying to look as nonchalant as possible as she casually leans against my bookshelf, pretending to examine my books rather than begging for the answer and the chance to ask more questions.

I can feel my face burning up. This is not a conversation I want to have with my mother. "Thing are...okay," I lie. "It's not anyone you know, but we've been together for a little over two months."

"So, it's not Sirius?"

"What?" I sputter, my eyes widening. "No, of course not, why would you think that?"

Squinting at me in confusion, she just shrugs. "Just asking! I mean, if it's serious, I'd just like to meet the boy. Don't freak out, sweetie," she says, chuckling.

Serious. Not Sirius. Get a grip, Remus.

I smile, although still a bit dazed. "Sorry, I'm just..."

She nods, walking over to me. Brushing my hair out of my face before patting my cheek, she murmurs, "Just in a hurry?"

"Yeah," I lie.

"Good...And Remus, dear?"

"Yeah?"

"Use protection."

"Mom."

Hours later, I'm half-naked, all flushed, and sweaty even after cleaning up. Our lunch plans didn't turn out the way I was expecting them too. However, as I lie back down on Anthony's bed and rest my head on his bare chest, I can hardly complain.

He smiles down at me, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers. I snuggle up closer against him, our legs coming into a tangle. Bringing his other hand to curl under my chin, he tilts my face up, and leans in for a quick peck. When he pulls away, he's frowning.

"What's wrong?" I mumble, worried.

"I'm hungry."

I laugh, rolling my eyes. "Well, I was going to get us lunch before you decided you couldn't wait," I counter. "Teenagers and their uncontrollable hormones," I sigh dramatically.

He pushes me off him, chuckling. "You git. Just because you're of age, doesn't make you the mature one in this relationship."

"Yes, it does."

"Tell that to your boxers with the green giants pattern."

I turn to lie on my side so that we're facing each other. "We've been over this. The Incredible Hulk is not a giant. I can't believe I'm in a relationship with someone who hasn't even tried to read any of my comic books," I say, in a tone of mock exasperation.

He shoves me lightly. "You git," he mumbles, although there's a smile on his face.

However, it fades and his voice turns concerned. "Hey, Rem? Speaking of relationships..." he trails off, running his hands through my hair.

My heart starts to pick up its speed and Anthony is so close that I find myself worrying that he might hear it. "...What is it?"

"We're okay, right?" he asks, with a small, unconvincing smile. "I mean, so far, today has been great...But lately, you seem so distant. I mean, Merlin, this is just me being paranoid probably, but I'm worried. You're always zoning out during conversations and holding back from me and everything. Is anything wrong or am I just overreacting?"

I feel frozen where I am, and seem to have lost the ability to speak. The concern and sincerity in his eyes make me feel uneasy. Finally, I manage to get words out. "Sorry, it's just that my friends have been over a lot lately and my sleeping pattern always gets fucked up during the summer. I'm just tired and disoriented all the time. It has nothing to do with you," I lie. I feel like beating myself up for this.

A smile grows on his face, although it's small and unsure. But he nods anyway, and plants a kiss on my forehead. "Okay...I...just checking. That's good."

I pull away to look at him. Sighing, I mutter, "That's not all that's on your mind, is it?"

"No, really, that's it."

I look at him pointedly.

"Okay, there is, but I'd be violating our Guidelines To Not Fighting," he says.

Despite myself, I smirk. "What guidelines?"

"Number one: You don't ask about ex-boyfriends. Number two: I don't ask about the scars."

My face falls and I look away. "Any chance this is about your ex-boyfriends because I'd really rather talk about that."

I feel his hand cradle my face, coaxing me to look at him, so I do. "Look, you know I don't mind. I think you're perfect no matter what and it sucks that no one else tells you that..."

Sirius tells me that, I think. Trying not to cringe, I push it out of my thoughts and continue to listen to Anthony.

"...But, as soon as the current ones fade, new ones appear. And all of your scars range from something that looks over a decade old to scars that are still pink and healing...Are you okay?"

I sigh, turning to my other side, mumbling, "Please, just drop it."

"I'm just worried, Rem. Give me something."

Not being able to see his face makes it easier for me to hear the slight wobble in his voice. Then, I feel him shift closer. His chest against my back and his chin rested on my shoulder.

"I don't like seeing you hurt..." he adds. "But it's like every time you can't hang out or when you cancel plans - even before we started dating - you always disappear for days and when you come back you usually look like you got the life sucked out of you. Plus, now, I realize you come back with new cuts and bruises, too. Do you honestly blame me for being concerned?"

"Anthony. Stop."

"I tried to ignore it, okay?" he mutters. Then, I feel fingers run down my bare back and I shudder. "But these are too much. Are you sick?"

I snort. You have no idea.

"Sick of your interrogation," I snap, still facing away from him. "I don't even cancel plans without explanation. I'm busy sometimes, okay? The scars have nothing to do with that."

"Really? Because one time when you were supposed to help me chart the stars and phases of the moon on the full, you freaked out and said your mother was sick and you had to go home, but Filch said he never saw you leave the gates. The month after that, you used the same excuse, but the next morning, I found the clothes you supposedly packed for your mom's on your bed when I was with Frank in your dorm..."

My heart starts hammering wildly in my chest, making it hurt. A knot forms in my dry throat as I take deep breaths, in a vain attempt to calm down. My head is swarming with threats and paranoia. Before I can even try to open my mouth, he continues, making my face drain of color.

"Then," he adds, "when I tried to reschedule again because my Astronomy load kept getting more unmanageable around two months later, you said you couldn't because you were visiting some relatives with your dad. But when I stopped by the Hospital Wing after the full moon, Madam Pomfrey tried to convince me you weren't there, but some kid who was on one of the beds said they saw you. You even went up to me a bit later and totally forgot your first excuse and said it was a Quidditch accident because you were around when James kept goofing off, but the night before that, Alec, Sophia, and Marlene were practicing on the pitch and said that James' broom was in the locker room the whole time. And, Rem, you were so beat up that just getting up to talk to me worsened this one," he adds, running a finger along a white gash on my palm. "I remember because Sirius got mad at me that day for 'making things worse'. I didn't even understand..."

I shut my eyes tight, trying not to react. But I can already feel stinging in my eyes that threaten me with tears. As I try to even out my shallow breaths, I say a tiny prayer in my mind. A prayer that he doesn't hear the pattern he's saying.

It doesn't work.

"Then, last week, when I invited you to come with me, Frank, and Alice, you didn't come and Lily was so determined to not let you go. I mean, at first, I thought you just wanted to get out of tutoring me sometimes and the whole possible sick thing wasn't part of it. But it's summer and it's not like I was going to make you chart stars and all that with me. I mean, yeah, it was a full moon too, but-"

As soon as I hear him pause, I bolt up, and grab my jeans from the floor, tugging them on. I almost don't notice the fact that tears are forming in my eyes.

He sits up, his face pale. He tries to catch my gaze, but I look away, pulling on my shirt.

"Remus," he laughs nervously. "Oh, come on, you're not...I mean..."

I pace back and forth his room, trying not to look at his horrified expression. However, I can still feel my heart breaking when I hear his breathing. Short and shallow and quick.

It takes all I have to turn to him.

His mouth is open and his eyes are wide staring at the wall behind me, both merged into a look I don't have the heart to describe. Disgust? Shock? Regret? All of the three, more like. His arms are rigid at his side, his hands clutching the sheets. Then he swallows, and lets out a puff of breath as he frantically shakes his head.

"No. No, no, no, no, no," he murmurs. "This has to be some sick joke, Rem."

I scowl, eyeing daggers at him. "Oh, it's fucking sick, alright. Wish it was a fucking joke too."

He opens his mouth, but decides against it and closes it. With his lips trembling, he looks away.

I'm about to leave when I remember something.

"Where's my wand?"

Without even looking into my eyes, he takes it from his bedside shelf and tosses it at me. I catch it.

The last thing I see before Apparating is him finally meeting my gaze.

It takes me seven hours and a stolen bottle of Firewhiskey from my dad's pantry for my eyes to run out of tears. However, I'm still in a fetal position on Sirius' bed, face buried in a pillow, and my chest still feels a million times heavier than physically possible. I feel like throwing up - and it's not even because of the alcohol.

It also takes seven hours until I hear a crack and see Sirius appear next to the bed.

"Remus, you'll never guess what we- Moony, what's wrong?!" he cries, sitting on the bed. "Are you sick? Wait, have you been crying?"

"Long story," I mumble almost inaudibly. "Don't wanna talk about it."

He frowns, his expression concerned and desperate. Then, without hesitation, he lies down, facing me. "You sure, Moony?"

"Yeah," I choke out.

"If you need time alone," he starts cautiously, "I can just-"

"No," I interrupt him. "Stay."

Sirius smiles sadly and nods. "Of course."

He leans closer - so achingly close - and puts a palm against my cheek. With his thumb brushing against my cheek, he wipes away the tear tracks. I can feel such sincerity and care in each touch. So much that I can't handle it. Not anymore.

"Sirius..." I whisper, my voice cracking. "This has to stop. We can't do this anymore."

He pulls his hand away, shaking his head. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I know that...that I keep crossing the line. Shit, I promise, I'll cut it out and-"

I put a finger on his lips, shutting him up. He looks at me with awed, curious eyes.

"What I meant was," I start, whispering. "We can't do this anymore if you aren't just going to kiss me already."

He stares at me, an incredulous look on his face. "Moony...this isn't funny."

"Why does everyone think everything is a joke to me today?" I ask.

He raises his eyebrows. "Huh?"

Sighing, I shake my head. "Nothing. Just...Just kiss me."

Before he chooses whether to give in or not, I grab him by the collar and crash our mouths together. I can feel him smile against my lips.

Preview: "Stop being so bloody scared and fucking face it, Lupin!"