Warnings: If you haven't figured out that this is a slash story thus far, whether this chapter offends you or not is the least of your problems.

Les nuits obscures
Triste je pense
A tes hauts murs
Les pierres denses

A tes portes fermées
Dont je cherche la clé
Tes frontières, si bien gardées
Toutes surveillées

Coeur inaccessible
Larmes invisibles
Ici, personne

Seulement dans la brume
Petite lune
Compagne de mes regrets

Remus Lupin was many things, but gay was not one of them.

Chapter Two Pt. A

Morning had come as an uninvited guest. Sleep had been kind, but the sweet memory of the night before was finally waning, much to Lupin's displeasure. Sun beamed through stony tower windows and basked the face of the rousing Gryffindor in wonderful warmth. It would be a morning to remember, indeed, he knew somehow. The world could do him no wrong today; he was in love.

Attempting to blink the sleep away, Remus rose, stretching, into a sitting position, inadvertently knocking the thing that had been resting on his lap to the floor with a great thud. He glanced around, finding himself among a row of empty beds. They had deserted him again, not that he really minded. He was in a rather agreeable mood.

Remus reached down, hand racing across wooden planks for few moments before making solid contact. Gotcha. Pulling the object to his face and squinting, he recognized the brown leather cover immediately. There was plain brown twine across the cover, securing a slip of parchment and a deep purple jumper.

"Yours." the paper simply read. Simple like Sirius? No; anything but. He could almost imagine the gruff, absurdly male voice in his head, making him smile stupidly.

Pulling off the string almost lovingly, he placed the book under his pillow for safety. The sweater? It was Sirius'. In fact, he recognized it. Lupin unraveled it to lay it flat on his bed, brow knitted together in confusion. Would Sirius give him his sweater; one full of holes to boot. His eyes caught another slip of paper, pinned strategically to the collar.

I expect you'll have this patched up and in my dresser by tomorrow. Prongs (whose death I'm considering by means of skrewt) spilled the jar of doxy spew that had been collecting dust on Carleson's stand all over it this morning. It's Jeannette Jordan's (the gorgeous blonde Hufflepuff, you know her!) favorite. She said I look like a god in it. A god, Moony!

Lupin frowned darkly at the ink blot there where Sirius had obviously paused to daydream.

Anyway…I'd charm it up myself but, well, you know what variety of life endangering idea that is. Here's two sickles for your trouble. See you at breakfast. -Padfoot. Lupin blushed against his own will, reading on. P.S. You were great. Thanks for last night. (wink)

Well, it seemed things hadn't changed between them after all, at least for Sirius, who still had his sense of humour. Well of course Sirius expected he wouldn't have minded, he thought angrily. He never minds, and now Remus was now reduced to a lowly seamster. Glaring at the offending garment, he was overcome by a sudden wave of malevolence. It was so uncharacteristic yet self gratifying, he gave in almost instantly.

So with a swift flash of his wand and incanting 'incendio!', ashes were the only evidence the jumper ever existed. Remus left no note, and pocketed the two sickles.

Give Jeannette my regard, he thought with what he would have usually considered childish jealousy. Where had the spite come from? Well, never the matter. He was very pleased with himself, and did not contain himself from whistling as he padded purposefully toward the communal washroom. Remus didn't even give his actions or motives (rather seemingly lack-there-of) any second thought.

He was in the mood to do something…radical. It was just that kind of morning. The air was positively humming with suppressed magic. He felt different, and needed to express the internal changes he had been undergoing for quite some time outwardly. Whether or not it had anything to do with the newly found plateau in his relationship with Sirius at all, he knew nor cared not.

What Remus Lupin did know, however, was that he did not desire to be the nobody of Hogwarts any longer; the shadow who was fortunate enough to trail after the ever popular James Potter, and renownedly handsome Sirius Black wherever they went like some sort of dog. The irony.

Even Wormtail, whose blatant adoration for the two (that of which he found disgusting and repulsive) possessed a name that could be recognized by his very own housemates.

Remus had made a decision, as he looked into the shaggy-haired figure gazing back at him in the mirror. Attempting a new approach, he grinned at himself sexily, eyes gleaming and straight, white teeth bared. Not bad, but oh so obviously not him.

He seemed to have come to the same conclusion for he shook his head at his own antics and looked away, embarrassed. Well, it was better to try to not be something he wasn't. Attractive? Glancing shyly at the mirror once more, he settled for a warm smile.

"Hello, Remus Lupin." It wasn't exactly the shocking effect he was going for, but it would have to do. He had other things to attend to. "Now this won't hurt at all, trust me. Accio Scissors!"

___________________________________________________________________

"Thank Merlin its Saturday," grunted James Potter, shoveling eggs and toast into his mouth.

"Well I'm glad to hear you feel that way, Prongs," said Sirius, sitting opposite to him, polishing off own meal. "I would've figured you to be sore after Evans turned you down for Honeydukes."

"Again," McQuillan, to James' right, added, not even lifting his eyes from the Daily Prophet. Sirius laughed, right on cue.

"If I were you, David, I'd shut my mouth before my wand finds itself up your-" he trailed off, eyes widened. "Bloody hell…"

"You'd what?" Davie's attention lifted to the figure sitting down with natural grace to the left of Peter, who was too busy stuffing his face to notice anything peculiar. "Oh."

"What's all this about?" The long-maned Gryffindor arched his brow, peering about, feeling left out for once. He was becoming quite agitated, until his vision connected with the object that held nearly half the Gryffindor table's attention.

There, ignoring the eyes, of some fifty curious Gryffindors, sat none other than Remus Lupin. His formerly shoulder-length, mop had been reduced to well, almost nothing compared to its former mess. Sand colored hair framed his head in rebellious, battling tresses that would've made James Potter either proud or envious. To Sirius, Remus looked…well, he looked surprising for starters!

One could actually see the clear, grey eyes, and the formerly hidden masculine jaw line. The inhabiting muscles led the eyes onto a curved trail down his neck, where porcelain skin was now exposed. His school robes had been discarded, and replaced with neat, casual garments that appealed to the sensory of sight. Sirius couldn't help himself from gawking openly, as the sixteen year old werewolf took a small bite out of his toast, appearing successfully oblivious to the stares.

"Moony! What did you do to yourself?" Leave it to James Potter to be the first to break the spell without any thought at all. Lupin didn't even pause, as he continued to munch on the toast, almost thoughtfully.

"I cut my hair."

"Well, yeah, we see that," James started cautiously, unsure for once of how to treat this stranger; the unknown facet of Remus Lupin. "Why the sudden change? I mean, you look different, Rem, real different," at that Sirius muttered something incoherent, "but this is so…"

"Abrupt?" supplied Davie.

"Yes!"

"I like it." Remus had to contain himself from glancing over at Sirius' reaction, the only one he found himself really caring to see. Somewhere to the right he could hear a set of twin, feminine giggles, making him involuntarily blush. Lydia Labelle and Maple Meribrook were seventh years. It seemed his friends weren't the only ones who had noticed his self-alterations.

"Moony." Sirius had finally uttered a coherent noise, suddenly desperate to get his attention for some unknown reason and successfully because Remus' large grey eyes were now focused only on him.

"Mr. Lupin, may I please have a word with you?" Swiftly turning around and the interruption, his eyes made contact with twinkling blue. "That is, unless you haven't finished breakfast?" It was rare for Dumbledore to arrange his own meetings with students, and even rarer to do so during a meal. Brushing the few crumbs off of his jumper, he stood.

"No, Professor. I'm done. To your office?" Remus stole a glance to gage Sirius' reaction, and had to contain himself from smiling with unadulterated mirth. There was no question about it, the handsome Gryffindor was brooding!

As if aware of this situation, which was completely improbable, the headmaster added: "Don't worry, Mr. Black. Remus will return in time for Dueling Club."

Remus couldn't help but to look at Sirius and want to throw him on the breakfast table in front of everyone and ravish his mouth passionately, claiming him for his own. At that very instant, he wanted to kiss that pouting lip away, and stroke the scowling brow with calloused fingertips. He wanted to scream his feelings away. He knew they were wrong, and didn't understand why he had them. There was something seriously wrong with him. Gods, how could he think about Sirius that way?

"Mr. Lupin?" there was that damn twinkle again, as if Professor Dumbledore had been tapping into his thoughts. He wondered briefly if the old man in front of him was some sort of dirty thought voyeur, reading the minds of hormonal teenagers but quickly banished the thought, berating himself. This was someone who had done so much for him; someone who had allowed him to remain at Hogwarts when he wasn't sure where or who to turn to. Was he going mad?

"Yes, sir. Coming." Even with the previous psychotic arguments he had had with himself, nothing could restrain Remus Lupin from winking saucily at a certain uncomfortable Gryffindor over his shoulder as he left.

"Who was that?" James Potter arched his brow, teasingly at his best friend. He didn't quite understand the exchange, but it didn't stop him from meddling like any responsible friend.

"I don't know."

"Have you talked to him about-you know- yet?" asked Wormtail, glaring at the retreating form of the werewolf.

"POTTER! You spilled my spew? My Grandmother gave that to me! I'm going to hex you into oblivion, someone hold me back!"

At least the morning was shaping up. A lopsided grin was forming on Sirius' face already.


__________________________________________________________________

The headmaster's office. It wasn't exactly an unfamiliar place for the Gryffindor square. Remus Lupin was well acquainted with several of the paintings on the walls, but there was always one in particular…

"If it isn't the werewolf. Alone this time? My disgrace of a great grandson isn't here, with his wild-haired friend? Or what about that plump mousy boy? I always knew you were trouble. Was horrified when Dumbledore made you prefect, I was. Where are your school robes!?"

"That will be all, Phineas. Remus isn't here to be interrogated," The portrait continued muttering on about a 'most ancient and noble house of Black' and 'flea bags running the halls of Hogwarts'. The headmaster gave Remus an apologetic smile, as he sat into his chair behind the cluttered desk. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, Sir," he said quietly, glancing up from the spot on his shoes he had been focusing on. Regardless of what he had said, there was a cup and saucer waiting on the desk in front of him when he looked up, so he did not refuse a second time. The tea had a soothing quality on him, as the warmth slid down his throat. He almost melted into his chair.

Remus knew why he was there. Dumbledore had found out about his 'problem'. He sighed inwardly. He knew it had been only a matter of time before he figured it out.

"Remus," he started, suddenly looking very old and sad to Lupin. "Before we talk, I must ask you: is there anything you would like to tell me?" Yes and you already know that, he wanted to scream.

"Sir, with all respect, I think we both know why I'm here, and it isn't to compliment me on my haircut." When did his voice start hitching like? Tears stung his eyes, but he would not cry. Surely Dumbledore had noticed, yet his smile did not waver.

"Well, now that you mention it, it is very becoming on you, Remus, indeed. But yes, you're right. That is not why I've called you here." Suddenly Remus didn't know what he was doing anymore. Everything came flooding out at once as if he were a bursting dam.

"I couldn't help it, I swear! I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I just woke up and then…and then…I was in the forest, and there was blood. I can't help it, I can't help it, I can't," Remus found he couldn't stop himself. It must've been the tea. "Please don't expel me, oh please. I promise, I'll take a draught every night to remain awake if I have to. Just don't send me away." The tears were now flowing freely down his face, as he pleaded with the man who for maybe the first time, looked taken aback. If ever, Remus Lupin was frightened then.

"I had no idea it was this severe. Remus, this may very well be my fault," Dumbledore adverted his gaze to one of the many snoozing portraits. "Perkins," suddenly a wizard with a short beard and a round face, looked up, startled. "Please find whatever is delaying Filius"

"Professor-" Before Remus could say anything there was a sharp knock at the door.

"Never mind, that must be Professor Flitwick," he smiled reassuringly at Lupin, "Do come in, Professor."

"Sir, I brought the books you asked for," squeaked the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher carrying a pile of books and papers that exceeded his own height.

"Very good. Sit down, Filius" Dumbledore turned to Remus, "I hope you don't mind, I've told him about your 'circumstances', I felt it was quite necessary. Professor Flitwick has my complete confidence, I'm sure you know." At that Flitwick turned to Remus Lupin, as if he had just noticed his presence, and said his hellos before turning his complete attention back to Dumbledore.

"Well, Sir. It was hard to find anything specifically on Mr. Lupin's case. It's just so rare, rather unheard of you might say." Flitwick seemed almost enthusiastic as he opened a book and pointed at something as if it were proof of his claim.

"That's what I was afraid." Remus was becoming increasingly frustrated.

"Sir, with all due respect, what's going on?" Before Dumbledore could say anything, the DADA professor intervened.

"It's simply astounding! We can't be completely sure yet, but you're going through puberty!" He exclaimed as if it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

"What!?" Remus couldn't help but look at the elfish man as if he were completely bonkers, which in his eyes, he was. Glancing frantically over to Dumbledore, he received a solemn nod. "You've got to be kidding me."

"No, it's true."

"But…but I've already gone through it, trust me," he said dangerously serious, as if he were about to whip out the proof right in front the two.

"No, no. We believe you. We're talking about werewolf puberty," there was that strange gleam in his eyes again.

"What!? But that still doesn't explain anything. For example, why is it so rare? Don't all werewolves go through this 'puberty' then?" Flitwick looked at Lupin as if he had been offended greatly.

"Don't you know anything about your kind, Remus?!" The petite professor glanced frantically at the headmaster as if awaiting an explanation. Needless to say, Dumbledore looked thoroughly amused. Sighing aloud as if it were some great inconvenience to him, Flitwick began from the beginning.

Remus listened to Flitwick talk animatedly and in full detail about everything he had known and read up on within the last few days. Every so often the headmaster would add in a 'yes' or a 'most definitely'.

At first Remus was appreciative at the fact that his professor seemed unaffected towards this newly found dangerous side of Remus, yet was starting to feel the exact opposite as Flitwick paused his lesson to go off into a tangent about how he would find it quite agreeable to witness an actual transformation every so often. Regardless, Remus listened (which started out with rapt interest, and ended in utter humiliation and dread.)

"So…what you're saying is," he started, looking to Dumbledore for support, "that when the person who bit me, made me into what I am…they were breaking some sort of 'were-code'?"

"Precisely!"

"You see, Mr. Lupin. What made your case so… conditioned, was the very fact that werewolves do not by instinctual ethics prey on children."

"So why am I so special?" For the second time since Remus had ventured into his office, Dumbledore looked very sad.

"That, I am afraid, I do not know the answer to." Remus was completely dumbfounded. There were things the old wizard sitting before him did not know? Speaking of which.

"How did you know, then? About me, that is…" Filius Flitwick looked insulted on the headmaster's behalf.

"Oh come, you students believe us to be so clueless, when in fact, it's the other way around."

"Here, here!"

"Phineas, please do not make matters worse," he admonished the portrait, and then turned to the fairy-like professor, "and Filius, Mr. Lupin is not in trouble. I feel I can not stress that enough." Strangely, Remus did feel better.

"Sir, I still don't understand." There were so many holes in Professor Flitwick's explanation, Remus didn't even know where to begin.

"I've told you all I know. I'm afraid we can't help you any further if you don't do the same." Flitwick rested a hand on his shoulder as some sort of sign of support or comradeship.

He didn't want to. He had a bad feeling settling itself square into his gut. Regardless, Remus Lupin took a deep breath and started from the beginning.

In the end the forbidden forest had remained just that: strictly forbidden. For some reason lost onto him, it was unbearable and horribly unacceptable. He knew there would be deviation that night, he could feel it.

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"Moony! You're late! You completely missed duels altogether. Hell, you should've seen it! Sirius got smacked right on his arse when Abernethy caught him day dreaming. Probably about that Hufflepuff goddess," said James in a blur of nouns and verbs. "I was just about to leave. I've got the pitch booked for the team. We're going to kick some Ravenclaw arse tomorrow! Wow, I just can't get used to actually seeing your face. Bloody amazing!" Remus always found it amazing how James spoke.

"I know, I know. Prongs,"

"I hate to say it, mate, but you're not half bad to look at," he smiled slyly at the blushing werewolf. "In fact heard Hilde say she would-"

"Prongs!" Finally, silence.

"What's wrong, Moony?" James' face was the epitome of concern.

"I need you to do something for me."

"Sure, anything for you. You know that."

Next Chapter, Pt. B: Being a hormonal teenager is bad enough, just you wait. Lily Evans, as promised. Poor, poor James.

Well, this wasn't much better than the last chapter, as for the making sense part. I abhor it. This was completely below par.

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed on the previous chapter, and hopefully putting up with this one. This includes: Hannio, canon slave, elmtree, lil_chick, Uzumaki-sama, Doctor Zosfmov, Ronda-Silverpaw, Onca, Emma Lupin, JVanilly, Xellas, dead desire, and the "hey" and "me" reviewers.

At about three thousand words I already knew this chapter was going to have to be divided into two separate parts.

Plus, I'm rather sadistic and enjoy torturing Remus, however, I'm fully expecting the tables to turn somewhere around the next chapter. We'll see. He might even do a little torturing of his own, if you know what I mean. By the way, I did not write the poem above.

Special thanks to: Canon slave and the "me" reviewer for setting me straight.