19 December 1975

The first thing Remus noticed when he awoke in the morning was a sharp, white-hot pain in his left leg. He blinked several times, his eyes adjusting slowly to the sunlight streaming in through the Hospital Wing's large awning window. Then, suddenly, he realized that he was staring directly up at a pair of wide hazel eyes, framed by round glasses.

"Prongs?" Remus muttered, trying to sit up in bed—but the very next moment, his left leg gave an agonizing throb. He gasped in pain and went stock-still, his eyes watering.

"Don't try to move," said a nearby voice in a hushed whisper. "Madam Pomfrey's orders."

Remus looked past James's shoulder and saw Peter crammed into the next chair, his round face markedly whiter than usual. Remus frowned at Peter's terrified expression.

"How are you feeling?" James asked quietly.

"A bit like death warmed over, to be honest," Remus joked gruffly, trying to smile in spite of the bizarre, shooting pains in his leg. Gritting his teeth and clenching his hands into fists, Remus managed to slowly drag himself upright and lean back against his pillows. "What happened last night?" he asked James in a low voice. "Did I—was I…difficult? Why…why does my leg hurt so much?"

James gazed back at him for a moment, his hazel eyes unreadable. Then, he looked away.

"I think you need to hear it from Sirius," James said in a hard voice, staring down at the floor.

A horrible chill filled Remus's chest, stopping his heart. It was with an almighty drop of his stomach that Remus suddenly registered that Sirius was not, in fact, sprawled across his customary spot at the foot of Remus's hospital cot.

"No," Remus croaked, heart pounding as he looked wildly around the Hospital Wing. "No—no, I hurt him—"

"You didn't hurt anyone," James said immediately, his voice sharp and his eyes piercing. "You—it wasn't—" James broke off, closing his eyes.

"James," Remus whispered. "What happened last night?"

James clenched his jaw, staring down at the floor—and with another blow to his chest, Remus saw that his friend was trembling slightly. Remus looked beseechingly at Peter, but the round-faced boy shook his head, chin quivering.

"James, please," Remus begged, slightly louder this time. "Please tell me—"

"All right," James interrupted loudly, his expression pained. "All right, I…I'll tell you."

Remus watched, shoulders shaking, as James rose slowly from his chair and walked over to Remus's bedside table, where he began rummaging through the fresh pile of magazines and newspapers that Madam Pomfrey had indubitably laid out for Remus that morning. At last, James withdrew a copy of the previous night's Evening Prophet, his expression grim. Smoothing it out, he placed it on Remus's lap—and Remus's heart plummeted to the ground as he caught sight of the big, bold headline on the front page.

FIFTEEN MUGGLES FOUND DEAD IN SOUTH WEST ENGLAND

"It all started with this," James began.


Madam Pomfrey relinquished her hold on Remus shortly before lunchtime, waving him away from the Hospital Wing with anxious, bustling reminders about eating well and getting plenty of rest over the Christmas holidays. Remus nodded at the matron without actually hearing a word she was saying. His mind was far, far away from the Hospital Wing—still in the same numb state it had fallen into after James and Peter had left the Hospital Wing for class, three hours earlier.

Aimlessly, Remus limped about the first floor corridor—his left leg was still very sore—for several minutes before he remembered that it was a Friday morning and that he was meant to be in class. Shaking his head, Remus glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to noon, which meant Transfiguration was almost over—there was no point in hurrying up to Gryffindor Tower to grab his schoolbag.

But then, deciding he might as well head up to Gryffindor Tower to complete his three still-unfinished Transfiguration essays—so he could submit them to Professor McGonagall before the end of the day—Remus released a slow, heavy breath and turned around, heading in the direction of the grand staircase—

"Moony."

Remus froze in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat.

Then, very, very slowly, he turned around.

Sirius's characteristically towering, cocky figure looked oddly lost and small across the corridor, his gray eyes darting nervously.

"I—I went to the Hospital Wing, but Madam Pomfrey said you'd already been released," Sirius said, swallowing. "I—er—thought she might be lying at first—she didn't look chuffed to see me, to be honest. I figured Dumbledore had filled her in about—about…last night."

Gray eyes met brown for the first time.

"James already told you, didn't he?" Sirius asked, his voice tight.

Remus didn't answer—his entire body was numb, cold—he couldn't even begin to fathom what to say.

"Remus, it was a mistake," Sirius said fiercely, taking a step toward Remus. "I shouldn't have done it, I know—I know I'm bloody lucky that James covered for me with Dumbledore and McGonagall. But, Remus, you know me—you know I would never do something like that without a reason."

Remus stiffened, his ears ringing. Surely…surely, Sirius wasn't saying what Remus thought he was saying. Surely, Sirius wasn't…justifying his actions.

"It was that Prophet article," Sirius continued angrily. "Snape—he—he cornered me in the Owlery last night—he told me my cousin was responsible for the death of those fifteen Muggles, Remus. You don't understand—you—you didn't see that stupid smirk on his face—like he knows something I don't—"

Sirius's voice faded quickly to a plunging silence in Remus's ears. And suddenly, in one earth-shattering moment, the gravity of everything that had happened the previous night crashed over Remus, leaving him feeling as though he'd been struck by lightning.

Broken images flitted past one another in Remus's mind…Snape's leering, accusing expression…the Whomping Willow's branches, swinging wildly…and a new image, one that caused every bone in Remus's body to grow cold: James, breathless and white-faced, as he dragged Snape's shaking body down a darkened tunnel, away from the Shrieking Shack.

Away from Remus.

In a split-second, fury replaced Remus's numb shock, and his entire body went rigid. Something snapped within Remus, and before he could control himself, he lunged toward Sirius. Sirius jumped violently.

"Moony—!" Sirius gasped, jerking out of Remus's way.

"How could you?" Remus demanded in a strangled whisper.

Sirius's jaw dropped.

"How could you?" Remus demanded again, shaking with anger. "How could you do that to Snape? How could you do that to me?"

Sirius mouthed soundlessly. "I—I wasn't think—!" he began.

"And you think that makes it all right?" Remus snarled, drawing himself to his full height—and suddenly, the three inches that Sirius had over Remus seemed utterly insignificant. Sirius was cowering under Remus's gaze. "You think that excuses what you did?"

"No!" Sirius exclaimed. "But—Moony, he insulted me! He talked about my family in front of me, like it's some big joke! I was just trying to get back—!"

"Don't you dare," Remus growled. "Don't you dare suggest that lycanthropy is a justifiable punishment—for anything."

Sirius swallowed his words, gazing at Remus in horror. "Moony, that's not what I—"

"Don't call me that right now, Sirius," Remus interrupted sharply, his heart giving a painful twinge. "I can't listen to it right now."

Sirius's eyes widened. It was several, tense moments before he spoke again. "Remus—"

"I could have killed him. I could have…I would have been executed for it."

The words felt surreal as they left Remus's mouth. It took a long moment for the impact of the words to settle in—they began to echo in Remus's ears. Remus watched as Sirius's entire body seemed to deflate.

"Will you forgive me?" Sirius asked desperately.

Remus froze, his eyes snapping onto Sirius's. He opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again immediately. The "no" was at his lips, ready to be spoken—but he couldn't say the word. The desperate glint in Sirius's bright gray eyes was eerily familiar—suddenly, it was three years in the past, and Remus was standing in his dormitory, surrounded by Sirius, James, and Peter. And Sirius was staring at him with the very same expression: fierce, manic, desperate.

"I didn't want you to know! You—you weren't supposed to—no one is supposed to know! D'you have any idea what people think of werewolves—?"

"Yeah, I do. My parents hate werewolves—"

"Your parents hate everyone."

"—and they're wrong! It's a stupid prejudice, just like everything else my parents believe in!"

The memory burned, white-hot, into Remus's brain—of his friends, all of twelve years old, mobilizing in front of him, vowing to stand by him no matter the cost, Sirius at the head. Remus's throat suddenly swelled shut with emotion. Eyes stinging with tears, Remus stared at Sirius—and the answer was out of his mouth before he had even processed what was happening.

"Yes," he whispered.


Author's Note:

*pokes head out from under massive pile of papers*

I STILL EXIST, I SWEAR. I'M SORRY I'VE BEEN SO AWOL. NO EXCUSES. JUST AN INSANELY BUSY PAST FEW MONTHS. SORRY.

I have a TON of PMs to respond to, and a TON of reviews to reply to, and I promise to get through them all this weekend. I'm so excited to post another chapter, and I promise you'll be seeing more of me very soon. Summer holidays start next month! But until then, enjoy this new chapter.

Oh, here's a special shout-out to the lovely Mel, an anonymous reviewer I always wish I could reply to but can't. Thanks for waiting patiently for this chapter. :')

Ari