Remus woke up on March tenth at ten-thirty, which was weird. It was a Saturday, but Remus' friends never let him sleep in like that—Sirius and James were always up at the crack of dawn, yelling and bouncing around, and Peter liked to be woken up so that he didn't miss anything. But today, they had managed to sneak out of the dormitory without waking Remus, and now Remus was in his bed, well-rested and alone. Why had they done that?

Wait. Oh, yeah. It was March tenth. It was Remus' birthday, and his friends were trying to be nice.

Satisfied with this explanation, Remus sat up and stretched. It was a very good day for a birthday. The full moon wasn't for another eight days, James didn't have a Quidditch match, there were no classes, and he'd finished all his homework the day prior. It was the perfect day for whatever shenanigans his friends had planned, and it was the perfect day to turn thirteen.

He was thirteen now? He was thirteen now! A proper teenager!

Remus grinned and slid the covers off. He'd missed breakfast, but there was a plate of food and unopened letters next to his bed—his friends must have picked them up for him in the Great Hall. Remus smiled and sat on the floor to eat and to read his letters. Eating in bed reminded him far too much of the full moon, and today was supposed to be a good day.

Dear Remus,

Happy birthday! I can't believe it's been thirteen years since you were born. That's a very, very long time, isn't it? It's still so odd, celebrating your birthday without you around. I'm glad you're coming home for Easter holidays; Dad and I are so excited to see you back. He just wants someone to play Boggart Catch with, I think. Garrison wants to be let out for some exercise. Please do that when I'm not around—you know how much I hate Boggarts.

We didn't send you a gift, but that's only because it can't be sent over mail. You'll just have to wait... so I suppose that's our gift to you: anticipation. It'll last you through April. It's the gift that keeps on giving!

Love,
Mum.

Dear Remus,

Polyjuice Potion? What? Could you possibly explain that a little bit further?

On an unrelated topic, it's only four more years until you're of age. That's terrifying. You're a teenager already? When did that happen? Seems like you were an infant only yesterday. You cried all the time when you were little, you know—and you spent nearly the whole school day in the time-out corner back in preschool. You've changed ever so much. Now you get detention instead of the time-out corner, eh?

I love you!
Dad.

Lupin—

You parents have been talking about your birthday for about two weeks now. I didn't want to write you anything (I imagine your friends will make a much bigger deal of it than you want, anyway), but your parents coerced me into it. For a Muggle, your mother is very intimidating.

Happy birthday.

—Q.

Remus read each letter again and again, savoring them as much as possible. He admired his mother's loopy G's and Y's; his father's thin, straight, and slightly slanted lettering; and Professor Questus' distinctive, bold but shaky handiwork that seemed like he was pushing far too hard into the parchment with the quill. This was heaven, right here—alone in a dormitory, a plate full of food, and remnants of home in his hand. He loved his friends, but he was also very accustomed to solitude, and solitude was hard to come by at Hogwarts.

Remus finished his breakfast while he wrote three letters back, and then he went back to bed. The full moon was in about a week, and he was already sort of feeling it. Today was a good day for a lie-in—he'd put a Heating Charm on his covers, he'd put a Cooling Charm on his pillow, and he'd sleep until mid-afternoon. Tomorrow, he would be fully energized once again. What were the odds that his friends would let him sleep all day?

In about twenty minutes, Peter, James, and Sirius came in and started jumping on his bed. Remus groaned. The odds were not good, apparently.

"Presents!" said James, dragging Remus out of bed. "We wanted to let you sleep, but I can't wait anymore! I have the best one! Easily!"

"He hasn't even told us what it is yet," said Sirius. "He's been fit to explode for days now."

Peter shook Remus' shoulder desperately. "Come on, Remus!" he cried. "You can't sleep all day!"

"Oh, all right," mumbled Remus. "Go on, then. Let's see if your presents are interesting enough to keep me awake."

"Me first!' said James, chucking a parcel into Remus' lap. Remus frowned and sat up, holding the parcel gently in one hand and stifling a yawn with the other.

"Wait!" said Sirius. "You have a really good sense of smell, right?"

"Er... yeah," said Remus, still staring at the parcel.

"Try to guess what it is before you open it! You did that last year on Christmas, and it was so cool! You knew that it was a houseplant before you even opened it!"

"But the houseplant had a really strong smell. You could smell it too, couldn't you?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Come on! Your super-senses ruined our fun with the Polyjuice prank, so you should use them to help us have fun today!"

One year ago, Remus would have been appalled that someone would suggest using his enhanced sense for "fun." One year ago, Remus would have flushed bright red and refused. One year ago, Remus would have been uncomfortable with the mere mention of it (except maybe from Professor Questus, who mentioned anything and everything, no matter how taboo). But today, Remus just smiled and held the parcel up to his face.

"Fabric of some sort," he said. "And it's not heavy. That's all I know."

"Guess what it is!" said Peter, bouncing up and down slightly.

"Er... a handkerchief?"

James grinned. "Nope! Just open it; you'll never get it!"

"Then why did you ask me to guess?" Remus mumbled. He slid his finger under the tape and pried it off of the parcel carefully... slid the wrapping paper off... folded it... and opened up the cardboard box underneath. "Gloves?" he said incredulously. "It's spring, James."

James was practically quivering with excitement. "I know! But I thought that you might like to wear them all the time. Like, in public. Because you're all self-conscious about your hands. Then we can do that secret Marauder handshake that I've wanted to do since first year, and then you can stop putting your hands in your pockets all the time, and maybe you can stop trying to cover your hands with your sleeves, because it looks really dumb. I mean, your hands look fine to me, but I know you're weird about some things. So I wanted to help!"

"I..." Remus looked down at his hands. He'd been self-conscious about them ever since he was... ever since he was bitten, actually, when he'd managed to get the gash across his left palm that hurt whenever he'd tried to use it. His nails were short, partially because he clipped them once a week and partially because he picked at them sometimes when the full moon was rising. There were faded, white scars crossing across his fingers and palms, there was a particularly bad one at the base of his thumb, his knuckles were scarred from where he'd chewed them as a child, and his palms were scarred from clenching his hands into fists during various transformations (not a good idea with the claws). People didn't often notice his hands, simply because he tried to keep them hidden... but what if he didn't have to worry about them anymore? Remus tried to imagine it. He couldn't, because worrying about his hands had been a constant for such a long time.

James continued to babble. "They'll last forever, you know. They were expensive and all that, so they'll never wear out. And they shouldn't be too hot in the summer, either! They've got a cooling charm so your hands won't ever get sweaty... they're thin, so they won't get in the way... and they're black, so they'll match anything! I wanted to get you bright red gloves (for Gryffindor), but Mum said that red gloves that bright weren't practical. What do you think?"

Remus slipped them on. There must have been some high-quality cooling charms on them, because he didn't feel like he was wearing anything at all, even when he moved his fingers. It was odd looking down at his hands and not seeing the myriad scars that were a constant reminder that he was a werewolf. "Wow," he said.

"So you like them, right?"

"Of... of course I do. Wow." He imagine not slipping the sleeves of his robes over his hands while he took notes. He imagined raising his hand in class more than a quarter of the way up. He wouldn't have to come up with excuses when people asked about his hands anymore. He wouldn't have to worry about accidentally scratching people—wounds from a werewolf never faded, so Remus was always terrified that he would accidentally hurt someone if his fingernails got in the way. But now all of that was irrelevant, and it was a beautifully strange feeling.

"Oh, and they're really soft, too," continued James. "Aren't they cool? They make you look like a Quidditch player, even though they're not Quidditch gloves. Ooh, I could wear my Quidditch gloves all the time, too! That would be cool!"

It seemed sort of like every detail about Remus' life was getting better, one by one. First he got to go to Hogwarts. Then he wasn't lonely anymore, then he didn't have to hide his secret from his friends anymore, and then the full moons were less lonely with them by his side... and now he didn't even have to hide his hands anymore... would things continue to improve? Would there be a day in the future when he didn't have to dread full moons? Would there be a cure? What else could possibly get better?

"Reeeeemus, say something," complained James, bouncing on his mattress with impatience. "You love them, right?"

"I... thank you," said Remus. "Yes. I love them. I don't know what to say. This is brilliant."

"Are you going to cry?" said Sirius. "Please don't cry. They're only gloves."

"I'm not going to cry, you prat," said Remus with a roll of his (non-teary) eyes. "They're very comfortable, James. Thank you so much."

"I can't beat that," said Peter dully. "I got you this. Here." He tossed Remus an envelope. "Can you guess what it is?"

"Er, I'm guessing it's a card."

Peter's eyes widened considerably. "Woah! How did you know?"

"Because it's in an envelope, you idiot," said Sirius. "Even I knew it was a card. Come on, Remus, open it up."

Remus obliged: inside the envelope, he found a colorful piece of parchment. It was clear that Peter had spent a very long time making it as perfect as possible. There was a hand-drawn picture of the Marauders on the front, and there were pictures of sheep grazing on a field on the back. The drawing wasn't very good, but it was so thoughtful that Remus really did almost cry. "Thank you," he said.

"I got you one too!" said Sirius. He ran out of the room and then returned with another parcel. He was about to give it to Remus when Remus suddenly backed up.

"Oh, no, don't come near me with that thing," he said sternly.

"You know what it is already?"

"Absolutely! You nicked it from Pensley, didn't you? I could identify that from a mile away!"

"I don't believe you," said Sirius, bringing the offending item closer. Remus gagged. "What is it, if your nose is so good?"

"That dumb cupcake-scented candle!" Remus choked. "Candles should never be scented like food. Ever. It smells so fake."

Sirius grinned. "But it'll cover up the scents of three teenage boys... Mum says that I smell bad all the time. I thought you must be suffering."

Remus shrugged. "It just smells like you, that's all. Though you should shower a little bit more. Besides, we're the only two teenagers here, aren't we? So there are only two teenage boys... and also two children."

"Hey, you're right!"

"Now get rid of that candle."

Sirius unwrapped the candle and studied it, frowning. "Hmm. How should I get rid of it, exactly? I can't very well return it; then I'll get in trouble. Oh, I know! I'll light it on fire!"

"NO!"

"Too late. Incendio!"

"I hate you, Sirius! YOU JUST LIT THE CANDLE! Put it out right now!"

"Make me!"

"Melifors!"

"Protego!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Remus won the duel, but even the sweet taste of victory could not rid the dormitory of the lingering smell of artificial cupcakes.

"I'm bored," said Sirius.

"Good for you."

"I'm really, really bored."

"Have fun with that."

"Remus! I'm so bored!"

"That's interesting."

"Remus!"

"Look, you asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday. I wanted to read quietly in the dormitory. James is doing it, even though he's reading that awful werewolf book. Peter's doing it; he's studying the DAD textbook and revising his notes. What's your problem?"

"My problem is that I'm bored. Come on! Pick something to do that we all like!"

"But it's my birthday. James said that I could pick whatever I wanted."

"Well, James is stupid."

"Oi," said James. "I'm having fun. I just learned that werewolves' fur consistency is different from that of true wolves, which means they shed less. That true, Remus?"

"I dunno. I've never been a true wolf."

"You know what I mean. Do you shed?"

"Don't think so. Sometimes there's stray fur in the morning, but that's only because I was biting and scratching myself all night."

"Biting and scratching ourselves sounds more fun than this," Sirius groaned. He flopped onto the bed and hung upside-down haphazardly. "Anything is more fun than this. This is torture."

"It's not torture. You just can't sit still."

"I can. I just don't want to."

"Prove it."

"I don't want to. Come on. Let's go fly broomsticks. Or wander the corridors and hex Slytherins. Or trick a first-year into doing our homework, or..."

"It's not your birthday, Sirius. It's mine."

"You weren't even around for my birthday!"

"You knew I was a werewolf back then, and you celebrated without me anyway. Your fault."

"Come on, Remus. We could go annoy Pensley. We could sneak into the Kitchens. We could antagonize the portraits. We could try to touch the Whomping Willow's trunk..."

"No! Are you out of your mind?!"

"...We could go to the Forbidden Forest."

Long pause.

"Actually, that does sound like fun," said Remus. "If you really hate reading so much, then..."

"Yes!" whooped Sirius. "I knew it! You can keep the forest out of a wolf, but you can't keep the wolf away from the forest!"

Remus thought that was a bit tactless, but he didn't mention it. "That's not how the saying goes," he said instead, twiddling with his new gloves.

"It is in this case! Come on! Put your book down! This is gonna be fun!"

"Peer pressure," mumbled Remus, putting his book down. "It's a blessing and a curse, and I know plenty about curses."

"The day is March tenth, 1973," whispered Sirius, "and we are witnessing the most epic face-off of this century. Famous Quidditch player James Potter has come face-to-face with a dangerous werewolf..."

"Oh, come on," Remus complained.

"A very dangerous werewolf who complains an awful lot."

"Why can't James be the dangerous Quidditch player who's a secret Death Eater? I could be the good and noble werewolf who saves the group of terrified children from his evil clutches."

"Whoever heard of an evil Quidditch player?" snorted James.

"It's my birthday, though. I get to pick."

"Fiiiine. Evil Quidditch player, good werewolf. And Peter can be the terrified children. That one, at least, is believable. Now, before I was so rudely interrupted... March tenth. 1973. Famous evil Quidditch player James Potter has come face-to-face with a hero werewolf..."

"Do I have to be a werewolf at all?" interrupted Remus. "I could be a world-renowned Auror."

"Fine. Evil Quidditch player James Potter has come face-to-face with world-renowned Auror Remus Lupin. James Potter is threatening a terrified child cowering by a tree. Can Remus Lupin save the child?"

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius' dramatic announcer-voice and tried to Disarm James... James moved out of the way... Remus put up a few Shield Charms and sent some rapid-fire nonverbal hexes... he tried to employ the notes in Professor Questus' duelling notebook, but the duel went too fast to think properly. Still, Remus had the advantage of practice, and it wasn't long before James was Disarmed and was sporting a face full of green stripes.

"Not green!" howled James. "Anything but green! I hate green! It's the worst color!" Remus grinned and levitated a giggling Peter to safety.

"James Potter has been defeated, and the noble Auror Remus Lupin has emerged triumphant!" said Sirius.

Remus was absolutely elated that all of the silent practice that he'd been doing in the Hospital Wing and his dorm room had paid off. "That's right," he said, "and now I, the noble Auror-not-werewolf, am going to take this poor, terrified child to safety." He was in the process of gently setting Peter down when he suddenly heard a shriek from Sirius' direction.

"It's a full moon!" said Sirius suddenly, and Remus immediately lost control of the spell and dropped Peter with a loud thumping noise. No, the full moon was eight days away! Remus' every bone was screaming eight days away, so it couldn't possibly be a full moon right now... but now that Sirius had said it, Remus was second-guessing his own instinct, and his heart was hammering with anticipation. "It's a full moon," continued Sirius, "and world-renowned Auror Remus Lupin is actually a werewolf..."

Remus spun around and gave Sirius his best death stare. "What was that for?" he demanded.

Sirius laughed. "I didn't expect you to be scared!" he said. "Come on, it's a full moon, and now we can switch roles and James can have a redemption arc and save Peter from the werewolf..."

"No!" said Remus. "I have to do that for real in eight days. I don't want to think about it." He tried not to be angry. He really, really tried. Sirius didn't understand; he couldn't. Sirius' worst fear was probably sitting still, not unthinkable pain as his limbs twisted into the shape of a murderous creature. Sirius still seemed to think that the whole "werewolf" thing was a joke. It wasn't his fault, of course, and Remus really did like joking about it... but not like this. Not here. Not now, and he was going to explain it to Sirius while no one was around to overhear. "I'm not going to pretend to be a terrifying beast, Sirius," he said as calmly as possible, "ever. Because that's already my reality, and..."

"Okay!" Sirius held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. All right. Okay."

"...and trying to tell me that there's a full moon is not okay. It's quite literally my worst fear, and..."

"Fine, won't do it again."

"...it hurts more than you can imagine, and the fact that there's no cure and there never will be and I have to do this for the rest of my life..."

"You've told us all that."

"...and, furthermore, I don't hold you accountable for the fact that your family wants me dead and your father nearly killed me in January. So I don't see why you feel the need to hold me accountable for something I can't control, either..."

"That's entirely different."

"You're not your family. I'm not my species. We're not our blood. It's exactly the same."

"Okay!" said Peter anxiously. "Don't let's fight. Please? Let's have a foot-race, or... or a tree-climbing competition, or..."

"I saw a pond," said James. "We can go swimming. It's a little cold, but..."

Sirius wrinkled his nose, ignoring James and Peter completely. "You're being ridiculous, Remus. How am I supposed to know when you want to talk about it and when you don't? All you have to do is tell me, and I'll stop. You don't have to chew me out—I said I was sorry."

"No, you didn't!" Remus protested.

"This is what I'm talking about! Why do you have to make a big deal about everything? This isn't a big deal at all! We've already settled it. We've no reason to be arguing; I said that I would stop. I don't like to argue. You don't have to be a werewolf if you don't want to."

"I wish it worked like that," muttered Remus. He was still angry. But Sirius was right: what was the point of being angry? These people were quite literally the only ones who would ever accept him. They had let him sleep in, they didn't judge him (well, not often), and they liked him—genuinely liked him for who he was and not what he was. Remus had no right to blame them for anything.

Besides, Sirius was thirteen. Of course he was fascinated by dangerous creatures with big teeth and ruthless natures. Remus himself had been obsessed with sharks before the fateful bite (his parents told him stories of the Shark Era all the time). Sirius didn't understand the constant shame that Remus had to bear, the perpetuate stress of the next full moon, the horrible pain of the transformation, the terror of the quiet Shrieking Shack and the echo of Remus' lone heartbeat around the room as he waited for the impending pain... no, Sirius couldn't understand at all, and Remus didn't want to blame a person for not fathoming something that was simply unfathomable.

And Remus supposed that it was his own fault, actually. He'd been more flippant about werewolves recently. He liked joking about it, and he loved werewolves being a topic of discussion and not taboo. Why should he expect his friends to read his mind and know which jokes were appropriate and which ones were not? They were only thirteen. Remus would have to pick one—either he could discourage their jokes or encourage them. And he definitely didn't want to discourage them.

In though his nose. Out through his mouth...

"You know what? You're right," Remus told Sirius with a small smile. "It was a good idea. I'm just not up to it, okay?"

"Okay," said Peter, seemingly relieved that the argument was over. "Let's go do something else now."

Remus shrugged. "I'm not up to doing anything right now. I kind of want to be alone for a bit."

And he really did. He couldn't explain why—he was just tired of company. There had been far too many emotions today, and Remus had been in the sort of mood for solitude ever since he'd woken up.

Sirius rolled his eyes, but James nodded. "All right, mate. Let's go back to the castle. You can rest in the dormitory. If you want to spend your afternoon reading and sleeping, that's just fine with us. You're terribly boring, but it is your birthday."

"You can go," said Remus. "I'll stay out here."

A stunned silence ensued from all parties involved—including Remus, who really couldn't believe that he had just said that.

"That's dangerous," said Peter.

"I'll be okay."

James didn't seem to agree. "Er, never thought I'd say this, Remus, but... Peter's right. Coming out here alone is insanely dangerous. We're lucky we've never run into some sort of Dark creature, but that could change... and we'll need all hands on deck if that happens, so you can't be out here alone..."

"Hello?" said Remus, rolling his eyes. "Dark creature right here. I'm the very reason we've never run into anything. I know where they are."

"Really?" said Peter, who was probably the only one who didn't already know that. "So... that time that you told us not to go right, and we went left instead?"

"Banshee."

"But... but a Banshee could kill us!"

"It won't. Nothing goes near me. That's why everything is staying out of this clearing."

"Cooooool," said Sirius.

"What do you mean, cool? It's not cool. Every single type of magical creature is either frightened by me or sees me as one of its own. They're not trying to attack you because they figure I have dibs." Remus rolled his eyes again. "Anyway. I'll be fine. You can go." He wasn't usually so lighthearted about this particular aspect of his condition, but he desperately wanted to be left alone. "Here. I'll walk you out. Don't you worry about me; I'll be back before supper."

"I still don't like this, mate," said James.

"I'll let you know if I find anything interesting. It'll be easier to explore when I don't have to watch out for you lot."

"Exploring?" said Peter. "I want to come!"

Remus sighed. "Okay. Let me do it alone, and then next time we can go together. I just want to get a scope for the forest first, okay? I think it'll be fun, and it's my birthday." He gently shoved his friends out of the forest. "Go play Quidditch or something. You have a game coming up, James."

James' eyes lit up. "Right! Okay! Have fun!"

Remus watched them go, and then he retreated back into the forest and sat on a rock. He smiled.

He was truly grateful for his friends, of course, but he truly did want to explore on his own. He wouldn't have to explain anything to his friends. He wouldn't have to say a word, and his thoughts were so much louder when he was on his own. The smells and sounds of the forest were his to conquer, and he didn't have to worry about anyone but himself.

Now this was a birthday present.

AN: When I was a kid I used to hate wearing gloves, but now I love them and own nine pairs.