Author's Note: Apologies if the story summary sounds a little cliché, hopefully the actual story won't feel like that. Anyway, welcome to Hounds of Love! (And if you're here because you read my previous story, To Be Human, welcome back! This one's going to be on a much smaller scale, but I hope it's still an enjoyable read.)

When I was a child, running in the night,
Afraid of what might be,
Hiding in the dark, hiding in the street,
And of what was following me.
Now hounds of love are hunting;
I've always been a coward
And I don't know what's good for me…

– Kate Bush, 'Hounds of Love'

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a werewolf possessing any self-respect or sense of decency should be committed to living a life that is free of romantic entanglements. Thus, at the tender age of eleven – when Remus Lupin was suddenly thrust into a new environment that was half-populated by members of the opposite sex, as opposed to the previous six years of his life when his mother had been the only constant female presence (and fortunately, Remus had no inclination towards Oedipal tendencies) – the young werewolf had made a Promise to himself: he would never indulge any attraction that was not strictly platonic in nature. Or, to put it more prosaically: no kissing, no touching, no sex.

The reasons for this rule of absolute celibacy were twofold. Firstly, keeping the secret of his lycanthropy was paramount. This had been instilled into Remus' psyche by his parents ever since the attack during the full moon a few weeks before his fifth birthday. Even with his mind clouded by the pain of the curse spreading through his body during that first month, young Remus had understood from his father's horror, his mother's tears, and the pitying looks from the Healers they had visited (in the strictest confidentiality) that what had happened to him was something shameful, something to keep hidden at any cost. Werewolves, the five-year-old Remus had quickly realised, were monsters, and were not fit to keep company with normal humans. Remus' father told him that even Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would surely not have a place for him.

But Mr Lupin had underestimated the astonishing kindness and open-mindedness of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. The famous old wizard had turned up on the doorstep of Juniper Cottage (the sixth home in which the Lupins had resided since that fateful night) one month before the beginning of September to personally ask Mr and Mrs Lupin why their burgeoning wizard son would not be attending his school. Mr Lupin had attempted his usual concealment of the truth, doing his best to not let Professor Dumbledore even enter the cottage, but their unexpected guest had somehow made his way past Mr Lupin, and five minutes later, was in the sitting room, eating crumpets and playing Gobstones with an intrigued Remus. Professor Dumbledore had explained to Mr and Mrs Lupin that he was already aware of their son's lycanthropy, and that, as long as the necessary precautions were taken, he saw no reason for Remus not to come to Hogwarts.

The delight Remus felt from being accepted into the famous Wizarding school had been somewhat tempered by the fear of the other students discovering he did not truly belong with them – that he was an imposter, a wolf in wizard's clothing. Thus, throughout First Year, Remus had done his best to keep his distance from his three dormmates, no matter how much James Potter and Sirius Black made him laugh, or how many times Peter Pettigrew expressed his awe for Remus' formidable knowledge of Dark creatures and other more obscure subjects (for books had been Remus' only companions in his isolated childhood). But despite the emotional distance, the physical close proximity of sharing a bedroom and all his classes was enough for the three boys to uncover the truth by the time they were in Second Year.

Yet James, Sirius and Peter did not tell him he was a monster – or worse, reveal what they knew to everyone else. Instead, Remus found himself with three immeasurably loyal best friends – the 'Marauders', they came to call themselves – who rather than wanting to stay as far away from the beast as possible, broke all the rules so that by their Fifth Year, they could be with him during full moons. They became Animagi for him.

Fortune had favoured Remus with his friends. Remus did not think for one minute that it would do the same with romance. After all, sleeping in separate beds a short distance apart from each other was not the same thing as sleeping with someone.

Remus had pictured the nightmare scenario many times – a pretty girl, who for some unfathomable reason liked him, wanting to kiss him. And after she had kissed him a few times, she would want to go further. Alone with her and caught up in the moment, he would unthinkingly allow her to unbutton his shirt… only for her to find the enormous, ugly bitemark on his left shoulder. She would stare at it, then at the rest of the scars on his chest, his arms, his face, and the realisation would dawn on her – he was a werewolf, and she had let him touch her. Horrified, she would scream and flee from him, like the monster he was.

And there was the second reason for the Promise: the deceit that would be necessary to ever maintain the interest of a girl. It made Remus' skin crawl just to think about it – being kissed by someone completely oblivious to his hidden vileness; to the beast inside him that burst out every full moon, who only thought of sinking his sharp teeth into the sweet, soft flesh of a human being, and tearing it apart–

"Remus? Hello, are you in there?"

He blinked as a hand was vigorously waved in front of his face. He turned to his right, to look at the hand's owner – Sirius.

"You right, mate?" asked his friend, pushing some of his chin-length black hair behind his ear. He gestured at the table in front of them. "Food's finally here."

"Oh," said Remus, staring down at the heavily laden Gryffindor table. Around them, the Great Hall was buzzing with the conversation of the Hogwarts students, as they tucked into the 'Welcome' feast of the new school year.

"You looked completely spaced out," James chimed in from across the table. "Did you hear a word of Dumbledore's opening speech?"

Remus glanced down at the shiny Head Boy badge pinned to James' robe. He had known about his selection for the position since the beginning of August, but he still could not quite believe it was real. "No. Why, was there anything particularly interesting?"

"Not really," said Sirius, before James could respond, helping himself to a slice of steak-and-kidney pie. "Just the usual, 'Hey, kids, I know there's a war on and your families are killing each other, but let's all try to get along here.'"

Remus snorted, ladling some beef stew onto his plate (the meat, as usual, was more well-done than he would have liked, but it would suffice). He could not help looking over at the Slytherin table on the other side of the Great Hall, his gaze falling on Sirius' younger brother, Regulus, and his friends. During the journey on the Hogwarts Express, Sirius had indifferently remarked that he would not be surprised to learn that Regulus had joined the Death Eaters that summer. His outward attitude had been cavalier, but Remus knew him well enough to know the idea was deeply troubling to him. It might have been over a year since Sirius had left 'the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black', and he had not been close with Regulus since starting at Hogwarts, but there was still a part of Sirius that did not want to see his little brother get hurt.

Sitting amongst Regulus' fellow Sixth Years were the three Slytherin boys in his own year level – Avery, Mulciber and Snape.

Severus Snape. Remus' grip on his fork tightened as he looked at the only other student at Hogwarts who knew what he truly was. All because of Sirius' dreadful sense of humour…

So far, Snape had kept his word to Professor Dumbledore, and not told another soul about the werewolf at Hogwarts. But Remus still hated that he knew. If he had been proficient at Memory Modification, it would have been so tempting to get Snape alone and expunge that precious piece of information from his mind.

Looking away from the Slytherins, Remus' eyes inadvertently shifted to the Hufflepuff table, and onto one Hufflepuff student in particular: Noreen Bryant, the house's female Prefect in their year level. She was talking and laughing with her friends – until her eyes flicked towards Remus and their gazes locked. In an instant, her good humour vanished, and her expression returned to how it had been the last time he had seen her on the Hogwarts Express, approximately eight hours ago.

Upset. With him.

Inwardly cursing himself, Remus quickly looked down at his plate, unable to shake the memory of the encounter that had been the reason for his ruminations on the Promise. They had just finished up the Prefects' meeting in Compartment A, and Remus had been waiting outside for James (who was being given some sort of lecture or interrogation by his female counterpart, and object of his unrequited affections for the previous three years, Lily Evans) when he had realised he was not the only person lingering in the carriage's corridor.

"How was your summer, Remus?" asked Noreen in her distinctive Northern Irish accent, smiling up at him.

It was a very pretty smile, Remus had always thought. In fact, he thought just about all of Noreen was very pretty: her short, dark hair, her long eyelashes, her full lips; the way her clothes clung to her body, leaving very little left to the imagination…

"Yeah, good," lied Remus, doing his best to keep his eyes on her face, and not her chest. "Yours?"

"Oh, it was all right," she replied. "Didn't get to see my friends as much as I'd have liked, though. My parents didn't want me travelling unnecessarily, because…" She shrugged, and gestured vaguely. "Well, you know."

Yes, Remus did know. The War.

"So, I'm glad to be back," she continued.

"Yeah, me too," agreed Remus, hoping Noreen did not ask him to elaborate as to why he was particularly relieved to no longer be stuck at home.

There was a pause, as Noreen continued to smile at him, and Remus began to feel the familiar discomfort of being left alone with a girl. A nice, attractive girl who, if he had been someone who didn't transform into a vicious beast once a month, he probably would have fancied. Glancing inside the compartment where James and Lily were talking, Remus hoped they weren't going to be much longer. Talking with Noreen during class or Prefect meetings was fine, but a prolonged, one-on-one conversation with her seemed like a dangerous idea.

"I wonder what the new Defence teacher will be like," said Noreen suddenly.

"Right," replied Remus, shifting his gaze back to her, "yeah. Good, hopefully."

"Of course." She let out a small giggle. "Not that it really matters to you, I suppose. Even if they're terrible, you'll get an Outstanding."

"Oh, um–"

"Thanks for the help you gave me in class last year, I don't think I would have passed my exam without you."

Remus rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Oh, I didn't do much…"

"Don't sell yourself short," Noreen told him, stepping closer. "Actually, I was hoping that I might be able to come to you again this year, if I need to?"

Remus swallowed, certain his heartrate was increasing. Her tone had become more than friendly. "You were?"

Noreen nodded. "Or," she added, a little shyly, "even if you just wanted to hang out together–"

"No!" Remus blurted out, before he could stop himself.

This time, Noreen took a step back. Her smile had been replaced by a look that suggested Remus might as well have slapped her across the face. "No?" she repeated.

'Shit,' thought Remus, panicking. He was desperately fighting the urge to run out of the carriage, or even throw himself out of the train. He had been doing so well these last six years, managing to avoid horrible situations like this one. But it appeared his luck had finally run out.

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Noreen. You're… really nice… but I… I'm…" He wished he could sink into the floor as he rushed the final words: "But I'm just not interested." The words were barely out of his mouth before he regretted them. Even to his completely inexperienced ears, he could tell he had just prematurely rebuffed her in perhaps the most dick-ish way possible.

Now, Noreen looked mortified. Her cheeks were flushed pink in embarrassment, as she stammered, "Oh, no, that's… I… of course, I didn't… I was just…" At last, she turned away from him, mumbling, "I have to go, I'll see you in class," and practically sprinted out of the carriage.

Remus stared at the door she had slammed shut after her. 'You utter prick,' he told himself. "You absolute bellend.' And he would have slammed his head against the side of the carriage if James and Lily had not exited Compartment A at that precise moment.

He had not told his friends about the encounter. And what now followed was exactly why.

Sirius' voice was suddenly in his ear. "What was that?"

Remus started, and recoiled from Sirius. "Nothing," he said quickly, and for good measure, added, "Fuck off."

"What's nothing?" piped up Peter, who was sitting next to James.

Sirius' gaze was burning with curiosity. "Why was Noreen Bryant just looking at you like you'd kicked her prized kneazle?"

"Doesn't matter," muttered Remus, while Peter, with all his usual subtlety, turned around to gawk at the girl in question with his watery blue eyes.

James – who had, as per usual, been gazing longingly at Lily, who was sitting about a dozen people down from Remus – turned his attention back to his friends. "The Hufflepuff Prefect?" he said, adjusting his spectacles. "She's–"

"Fit," supplied Sirius.

"I was going to say the girl he helped in Defence Against the Dark Arts a few times last year," said James drily. He cocked his head. "Hang on, was she who you were talking to while Lily was accusing me of somehow becoming Head Boy through dubious means? I saw you were speaking to someone, but I wasn't sure who."

Remus sighed. Usually when James was in Lily's presence, he was oblivious to almost everything else, so why did this have to be the one time he had noticed what Remus was doing?

"Fine," he grumbled. "Yes, she stayed behind after the meeting to chat. And she asked if I want to hang out more with her this year."

Peter finally looked back around, his eyes wide in amazement, and Sirius exclaimed, "Brilliant!"

"No, Sirius," said Remus through gritted teeth. "Not brilliant. Decidedly un-brilliant."

Sirius groaned. "Oh no. You turned her down, didn't you?"

"Of course I bloody turned her down!" hissed Remus, glancing around to check that nobody was listening to their conversation. "What else could I do?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't know – say, 'Sure, Noreen, I'd love to get to know you better!' and, if you play your cards right, get to say goodbye to your virginity by Christmas?"

Remus glared at him. "You know I can't do that."

"But she's nice, isn't she?" said James, leaning across the table. "What if she doesn't consider your furry little problem a dealbreaker?"

"Well, we're never going to find that out, because no one's going to tell her about it," retorted Remus. Then he added, "And I'm pretty sure after today, there's no way in hell she's ever speaking to me again."

Sirius shook his head, exasperated. "Oh, come on, mate–"

"Leave it," snarled Remus. "Just leave it."

Although Peter was cowed by Remus' tone, and James simply shrugged and went back to hopefully eyeing Lily, Sirius did not leave it. He continued to pester Remus about Noreen – and the wider subject of Remus' potential interactions with the opposite sex – for the rest of dinner, and on the way back to the Gryffindor Tower. Nor did he stop when they were finally in their dormitory, getting ready for bed. The last thing he whispered to Remus, just before they all fell asleep, was, "Just one date. What harm could one little date do?"

The next morning, Remus was the first to wake in their dormitory, and took the opportunity to have a long shower free of the usual interruptions of sharing a bathroom with three other boys. Afterwards, once he had finished drying himself and was dressing in his uniform, he stared at his face in the bathroom mirror – and in particular, the scars he had given himself over the last twelve years.

The small one on the right side of his nose was the first that the Wolf had inflicted, on the night of his very first transformation. Remus did not remember the occasion very well; his memory had suffered from the transformations in those early years. Mostly, he just recalled the pain of his small body writhing and contorting as he changed, and the exhaustion he felt the following day. The periods between full moons were blurry, the consequence of the severe psychological impact of lycanthropy on a young, developing brain. There were vague flashes of begging his mother to be allowed to explore beyond the boundary of their garden, and his father's uneasy expression during mealtimes as he watched his son eat meat that was almost raw.

He traced the longer scar beneath his left ear that ran along his jawline. That one had been when he was nine. Then there was another short one above his left eyebrow, and another under his right eye. There was a diagonal gash across his chin, and a long, thin, jagged line down his neck.

There were eleven on his chest, most of them an inch long. But the biggest of all was the thick scar down the right side of his abdomen, curving around onto his stomach at its end. The Wolf had given it to him during his first transformation in the Shrieking Shack. He clearly remembered the look of horror on Madam Pomfrey's face when she had seen it the following morning. In response to the look, Remus had quietly said, "Better me than someone else."

That was the one thing that allowed Remus to sleep at night: he had never hurt anyone else. Not even Snape, when Sirius had suggested to him last year to see what happened in the Shrieking Shack during the full moon; a stupid prank which had very nearly ended the friendship of Moony and Padfoot. Remus had refused to speak to him for a whole month, other than his initial castigation of Sirius' thoughtlessness and insensitivity to Remus' terror of attacking someone else.

Remus had always assumed that other werewolves must have thought the same as him: that there could be nothing worse than passing on their lycanthropy to another innocent human (apart from maybe killing their victim). He had been sure that even his own attacker was full of remorse for what he had done to a small, helpless child.

Over the summer, his father had finally disabused him of this notion. Mr Lupin had sat his son down one night and had, at last, told him the truth. The whole truth.

Remus gripped the edges of the sink tightly, closing his eyes as anger, hurt and betrayal fought for control of his heart and mind. It was his father's fault he was a monster. Not wholly, but Remus could still blame him. He did blame him.

"What were your exact words?" Remus asked his father, his voice deceptively quiet. They were sitting on the edge of his bed, with a foot-and-a-half's empty space between them. Although the bedroom window was closed, the howling wind outside made itself heard.

Mr Lupin, who was already looking vaguely nauseous, became even paler. "Sorry?"

Remus' fists were clenched tightly in his lap. "You say it was wrong and prejudiced, but what exactly did you tell Greyback?"

"Oh, I don't remember, Remus, it was over twelve years ago–"

"I don't believe you. I think you remember it very well. I reckon those words have been echoing around your head every time you've looked at me ever since that night. So, tell me, Dad, what did you say to Greyback that made him so angry that he decided to wait outside our house the next full moon so that he could break in and turn me into the same thing as him?"

Staring down at the floor, Mr Lupin admitted, barely louder than a whisper, "I said that werewolves were soulless, evil, and deserved nothing but death."

A lump formed in Remus' throat. He stared at his bedroom wall, where a photograph of him as an eleven-year-old in his Hogwarts uniform with his mother standing proudly next to him hung. According to his father, that scrawny, beaming young boy deserved to be killed for having the temerity to be attacked by a psychopath.

"Remus," said Mr Lupin urgently, reaching a hand out to him, "you must understand that I–"

He dodged his father's outstretched hand, standing up and walking to the other side of the bedroom, refusing to look at the older man.

Mr Lupin's pleading voice came from behind him. "I was ignorant, Remus, horribly ignorant. And I will never forgive myself for it."

At last, Remus turned around to face him. "Do you mean forgive yourself for thinking it, or for just being stupid enough to say it out loud to someone that you knew was a monster who had already killed a couple of kids?"

"Remus!" His father looked appalled. "You know I don't think those things anymore!"

"Do I?" said Remus coldly. "Tell me, Dad, keeping me off the register, moving us to a completely different county every time a neighbour started to suspect there might have been something wrong with me – was that for my protection, or to spare you from the shame?"

Mr Lupin stared at him like Remus had struck him across the face. "How could you ask me that? How could you think–"

"How could I think?" repeated Remus, his voice growing louder. "How could you ever think that it was all right to believe those things? And how the hell could you ever look me in the eye, all these years? I'm glad you'll never forgive yourself, Dad, because I sure as hell won't."

He jumped as the bathroom door was flung open – evidently, he had forgotten to lock it – and Sirius strode in.

"So, about this whole celibacy thing–"

Remus groaned, the anger with his father dissipating, replaced by the frustration from the night before. "Why are you still going on about that? I told you last night, Sirius – nothing is going to happen. With anyone. Ever."

"Have you ever considered that all this repressing your perfectly natural desires is actually doing more harm than giving in to them?" asked Sirius, casually stripping off his pyjama bottoms.

Not particularly interested in seeing his friend naked (having already been privy to the sight more times than he could count, as Sirius seemed to think it was a privilege for anyone, regardless of their sex or personal proclivities, to be witness to the magnificence of his unclothed body), Remus averted his eyes and started buttoning his shirt. "What are you, my psychologist?"

"No, I'm your best friend," replied Sirius frankly, and walked into the shower. Turning on the taps, he added, "And I like you a lot more than you like yourself. Which means I know you're not the worthless, unshaggable piece of filth you seem to think you are."

"Cheers," muttered Remus, doing up the final button and turning up his collar.

Sirius finally pulled the shower curtain across to conceal him. "So," he called out, "next time a girl expresses an interest, I think you should give things a try, for once."

Remus sighed, shaking his head. Sirius couldn't understand. No one could, unless they had experienced what Remus had: the absence of all humanity, and in its place, a monster who only wanted one thing – violence.

Not bothering to reply, Remus walked back out into the dormitory where James and Peter were finally stirring, and picked up his Gryffindor tie from where it hung over the side of his trunk. Putting it on, he wondered why Noreen had been interested in him anyway.

'Not that it even is me that she knows,' he told himself. 'Just the lie I tell everyone else.'

Remus Lupin, the ordinary teenage boy. Quiet, more interested in books than girls, and struggling with a long-term, unspecified illness that meant he sometimes missed classes; whose scarred face was the result of a childhood encounter with an unfriendly dog. A fragile façade that would shatter if anyone ever became too interested.

There was something distinctly odd about starting the school year on a Friday. It was difficult to become immersed in classes when the weekend was so tantalisingly close. Yet Remus, as always, did his best to pay attention and do the work required with the utmost effort and care.

It would have been a whole lot easier, however, if Sirius hadn't continued to pester him every waking minute of the day.

"I just don't get why you're so afraid of it," Sirius whispered to him during Charms, their final class of the day. "I mean, it's not like you've got the clap. Hell, I'm more likely to pass something on than you."

Remus looked longingly at James and Peter, who were sitting at the pair of desks to their left. He had been trying to sit with either one of them all day, but Sirius kept taking the seat next to him. As Professor Flitwick continued to take the class through an extensive recap of everything they had covered in his subject during the past six years, Remus muttered to Sirius, "As fascinating as the subject of your possibly disease-ridden genitalia may be for you, would you mind shutting up so I can listen to our teacher?"

"You don't need to listen to him, you already know all of this," said Sirius dismissively. "You should be more concerned about your pent-up sexual frustration."

"I do not have pent-up sexual frustration!" hissed Remus – a little too loudly. Sitting in the pair of seats in front of them were their housemates, Mary Macdonald and Adjoa Oduro, who glanced back at the boys. Mary looked scandalised, while Adjoa smirked.

His cheeks burning, Remus ducked his head, while Sirius muffled a laugh. When he had recovered from his mirth, he murmured, "Come on, Moony. The world won't end if you get laid."

Remus glared at him. "You just don't get it, do you? It's not about what I want, it's about–"

"Not soiling some innocent girl with your tainted body?" suggested Sirius wryly. "Trust me, mate, there are girls out there who definitely wouldn't mind you soiling them."

"Yeah? And how many of them do you think wouldn't mind ending up pregnant with a little murderous beast of their own?"

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Wait, it's the possibility of getting someone knocked up you're so worried about? You know there are such things as contraceptive potions, right? Or, like, blowjobs."

"Dammit, Sirius–"

"Mr Lupin! Mr Black!"

Remus straightened in his seat like a metal rod had been jammed down the back of his shirt, looking to the front, where the tiny Professor Flitwick stood on his desk, giving both him and Sirius a very disapproving look.

"I trust this class is not getting in the way of your important conversation?" he squeaked at them, in an unusually sardonic manner.

"Sorry, sir," said Remus immediately.

"Won't happen again," added Sirius, with a charming smile.

"No? Well, perhaps the two of you can stay behind after class to make sure that it won't."

Inwardly, Remus groaned, but mumbled, "Yes, sir," along with Sirius, as to their left, James got into his role of Head Boy by tutting at them loudly – earning him a withering look from Lily.

After everyone else had left the Charms classroom, Remus and Sirius were treated to a ten minute lecture on the dangers of complacency, and that even Seventh Years still had to respect the authority of a teacher in their own classroom.

"So, I hope," finished Professor Flitwick, looking up at the two teenagers who were both at least twice his height, "there will not be a repeat of today's behaviour in any of your remaining Charms lessons this year."

"Of course not," said Sirius, with uncharacteristic contriteness. "We're very sorry, Professor."

Remus nodded in agreement.

"All right. You may go, boys."

As Remus and Sirius picked up their belongings from their desks, Sirius said quietly, "Seriously, Remus, if it's only the idea of impregnating a girl that bothers you so much–"

But Remus had used up all his powers of restraint. "I swear to Merlin," he growled, "if you say one more word about this, I'm going to break your nose." Snatching up his bag, he spun around from Sirius and stalked to the classroom door. Grabbing the handle, he viciously shoved it open.

In the next few seconds, several things happened in very quick succession. The first was that the door smashed into the face of a girl standing on the other side, about to enter, who let out a loud yelp of pain. Remus quickly grabbed the door with a panicked, "Shit!", as the girl staggered backwards, clutching her nose as she yelled, "Fucking hell!". Professor Flitwick, upon hearing the profanity, loudly called out in a shocked voice, "Mr Lupin!", and Sirius ran forward to see just what the hell was going on.

"Oh, God," said Remus, his stomach twisting as he stepped towards the girl, who was almost a foot shorter than him. "I'm so sorry…" As hard as he tried, he could not think of her name. She was in Ravenclaw, also in Seventh Year, and was in his Ancient Runes class, but her name…

The girl glared at him, briefly removing her hands from her face to reveal that the lower half was covered in blood, causing Sirius to exclaim, "Merlin's balls!"

"Oh, Miss Delacroix!" cried Professor Flitwick, finally seeing the cause of the outburst and running over. "Oh dear, are you all right?"

"Of course I'm not!" snapped Delacroix, tilting her head back in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "This wanker just broke my nose."

Remus squirmed under her furious gaze. Under normal circumstances, he would have thought she looked quite delicate and feminine, with her almost doll-like bone structure and her dark blonde hair tied up in a bun with a white and blue hair-scarf. But the smeared blood on her face, combined with the ire in her expression, made for an altogether more feral appearance.

"Oh, well, there's no need for that sort of language," said Professor Flitwick anxiously, standing on his tiptoes as he tried to inspect the injury.

"Please," tried Remus, reaching a hand out to her, "let me take you to the hospital wing–"

Delacroix – he still didn't know what her first name was – slapped his hand away, and opened her mouth to presumably let out a torrent of verbal abuse, but was cut off by Professor Flitwick.

"I think you have done quite enough for today, Mr Lupin," said the Charms teacher. "I can handle this from here, thank you." He ushered Delacroix into the classroom, and firmly closed the door on Remus and Sirius – but not before the bleeding girl threw Remus one final dirty look.

Both Remus and Sirius stared at the door in silence for a few seconds. Then Sirius turned to Remus, the trace of a smirk on his face.

"Well, at least you don't ever have to worry about her wanting to shag you."

If you made it to the end of this chapter, thank you very much for reading! (I hope you continue on to the next one :D) If you have any thoughts/feedback on the beginning of this story, I would love to hear them (I always appreciate constructive criticism), and if you have any questions, I will endeavour to answer them to the best of my ability :)

On to Chapter 2...