After the Transfigurations fiasco, Remus became moody and unpredictable. At times he seemed possessed of an almost manic glee, as if to make up for the times when he was so blue he didn't even want to get out of bed in the morning, not even on Tuesdays. They had Defense Against the Dark Arts on Tuesdays, and it was Remus's best and favorite subject. Sirius and James worried, and because they did, so did Peter, but none of them could rouse him from his funk; not even Yoni's grin could dispel the dark clouds hanging over his head.

Half a month passed thus. Remus's hair began to grow thicker, and they all knew it was not merely through his lack of attention. Sirius might make cracks about Remus's 'time of the month,' but in all reality they realized how serious the situation was. A brooding werewolf—would he decide he didn't want their company any longer, and try to escape? A shudder passed down Sirius's spine every time he thought of this. In previous years, he had been oblivious, but now he understood just how dangerous their exploits had been, and found he was dreading the night of his friend's transformation.

Finally, a day before the full moon, Sirius pulled Remus aside in the Gryffindor common room. "Listen, mate, I know that was an awful experience, but you can't let it get you down forever. After all, you've got us," he added gruffly. "I never did like your twin." He stared penetratingly into his friend's eyes. Sirius knew that look worked well; at least, it always had on the girls.

Remus looked away, unable to stand seeing the worry in Sirius's gaze. "It's not Romulus," he murmured. "Not really. I don't know quite what it is, but please don't worry. I'll figure it out."

Sirius watched him closely for a moment, then nodded, reluctantly. "Okay. But you better be up for another romp in Hogsmeade, my friend."

Finally Remus was able to offer him a weak smile. "I will be, friend."

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That night, the sky was entirely cloudless; the moon looked more than ever like a round ball of pockmarked cheese due to the jaundiced hue it sported. By the light of this sickly-seeming moon four creatures slunk from the Hogwarts castle, making a beeline for a tree that was swaying gently in the wind ... except on this night, there was no wind.

The Whomping Willow stood waiting for them, like a sentry, its branches oscillating in warning, but it was no match for Wormtail's swift paws. In a few quick scampers the tree was disarmed, and the four—rat, stag, dog, and werewolf—slipped through the roots without a sound. Padfoot nipped Moony's hindquarters on the way, as the wolflike beast seemed hesitant to enter.

The old abandoned house to which the tunnel lead was, tonight, only a place to pass through. They were off to explore the outskirts of Hogsmeade, a place where they had seldom ventured before, and Wormtail's nose quivered in barely-checked excitement. Padfoot, too, was expectant, his tail sweeping the air behind him like a great fan; and Prongs was not jaded either, but stood with antlered head held high, a mischievous gleam in his creamy, dark eyes.

As they walked, Wormtail riding on Padfoot's broad back, Moony lifted his snout to the night air and sniffed deeply. There were many scents on the breeze tonight, many preys, one that he could not quite place. It was familiar, he knew, and he was anxious to reach it. His pace quickened, and the others hastened to keep up. Prongs cocked his head inquisitively, but the werewolf could not explain it. He merely shook his head in frustration.

The earth was cool and damp beneath his pads, Moony noted, his tail carried high to avoid the dew. His ears swiveled this way, then that way, scanning for some sound that might be a further clue. His wolf's eyesight was not nearly as keen as it could have been, but all the same he tried to use that sense as well, until his eyes began to water. What was it that tortured him so?

At last they emerged from thick shrubbery into a clearing, in the middle of which stood a small house. It appeared neglected, even perhaps abandoned. Padfoot bounded excitedly towards it, Wormtail clinging desperately to the nape of his neck, squeaking in protest. Prongs, following at a calmer pace, stopped briefly in the garden to nibble at the radishes growing there.

When he looked up, Moony was gone.

Deer are usually silent animals, but they are not mute. Prongs let out a loud trumpeting noise, leaping towards the house. He bit Padfoot's tail to further attract the dog's attention, then flung his head to the forest, where they could see the indistinct shadow of a wolf slinking off. Padfoot emitted several barks before breaking into a run, Prongs not far behind.

Moony was moving at a slower pace than they, but even so it took more than a minute for the companions to catch up. What they found sent a chill up Padfoot's spine; for a moment he stood paralyzed, then he hurtled himself into Moony's side, snarling and lashing out with his claws. The werewolf fought back, but Prongs and Wormtail joined him, and at last they herded Moony some distance away.

Padfoot eyed the moon above as they passed beneath the trees; it was setting, thank God for that. This night was almost over. If they all made it through alive, he thought, he would donate ten Galleons to St. Mungo's. Maybe someday they would find a cure for Remus ... but Padfoot knew all the same they had saved one little boy from a lot of future angst tonight.

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When they returned to Hogwarts, dawn was just breaking. Remus was sleeping, carried in Sirius's arms. Sirius looked a wreck, his normally handsome locks hanging bedraggled and matted into his tired blue eyes, and a wound on his upper thigh made walking difficult. Still, he insisted on carrying Remus, and everyone was so exhausted they didn't feel like arguing.

As they trudged up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower, Sirius turned to James and asked, "Should we tell him, Prongs?"

"No," he replied promptly. "It would break his heart, and there's nothing we can do about it. No spells, no miraculous potions—he's stuck as a werewolf, Sirius."

"I know. But I've been thinking..."

"Never a good thing, that," James said with a smile.

"Shut up, I'm trying to tell you something."

He frowned at Sirius, taken aback at his friend's anger. "Sure, I'll shut up if it bothers you that much."

A heartbeat, then Sirius let out a sigh. "Sorry, James, it's just ... these excursions, we think they're so cool and fun, but I don't know anymore. Maybe we should be more careful, you know, not let Remus go wandering around like that. You saw what almost happened."

"Yeah, almost. But it didn't, did it?"

"I know, I know..."

"Are you going soft on me, Padfoot?"

"Of course not!" Sirius's tone was indignant. "But listen, Remus should know what he did last night. He's the reason we're able to go roaming at all, so he should have the right to decide for himself. Fair?"

"Fair enough," James conceded. "We'll tell him when he wakes."

"But for now, we'll let him sleep. He always looks so much happier like this."

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(A/N: Please review! I need to know if this is utter fluff AKA crap or not! Review! Or I will set my rabid chicken on you...)