four; expectant.

sirius.

It's painless; uncomfortable, yet not quite horrible. Not pleasurable either though.

The feeling of shifting from human to dog; knees bending in directions they're not meant to go, fur spreading in wildfire ripples across your body. Your nose extending; and you ultimately feel silly throughout the whole process.

The conversion from dog to human feels like going back home after a very long vacation. Everything is normal and warm; it's familiarity at its best.

And after listening to my plan work perfectly, all I want is to be human again.

"Did you find anything out?" Remus chances a glance up the girl's staircase as I half-stride, half-stumble, to the place where I had left James' Invisibility Cloak.

I seize it from the hiding spot and release a precarious breath.

I'm positive that he senses something wrong; from the other side of the common room comes his hesitant second question, "Is it really that bad?"

I sink into the closest chair, head in hands. Yes, yes, yes. Bloody fucking yes. And how am I expected to look him in the eye and tell him, with all honesty in tone, that Ainslee Bordeaux slices her arms open when things are not bloody brilliant?

After the thought passes through my mind, I feel like a horrible person. That was, unquestionably, the worst and most insensitive way to put it.

I barely recognize Remus' presence as he lowers himself on the floor in front of me.

"What is it?" He mutters gently.

I scrub weary eyes with closed fists. "She…she cuts her arms," I whisper.

Silence pursues my response. We stay like this for a while; the only movement in the room comes from Peter, shifting distressingly.

Finally – "You mean to say…she…she cuts her arms…like…purposely? With a-a knife or something? And then lets them bleed?"

I dare a peek at Remus' face; he's ashen and trembling madly. His eyes trail to the floor.

"Yes. Yes, she does," I hear my hoarse voice answer.

He lurches to his feet; he looks incredibly ill. "Bloody fucking hell…"

I reach out to take hold of his elbow when he trips again but he pushes me away. He slumps to his knees, bending over. For a terrifying moment, I convince myself that he's going to heave, and rush to his side. Instead, I listen in alarm as he chokes it down.

Peter dashes to help me as I link an arm around Remus to hoist him to his feet. Together, we escort him back to our dormitory, taking the stairs vigilantly.

When the door slams open, James starts upright in bed. He rubs his eyes, yawning hugely, before taking in the scene unfurling in front of him. "What in ruddy hell is going on here?"

Peter and I carefully lead Remus to his bed, where he weakly climbs under the covers and thanks us in an almost nonexistent tone. He's asleep within minutes yet I somehow assume that he's not going to sleep very well.

"To answer your question," I begin, "My plan worked."

A look of excitement flits across James' face but retreats quickly upon our grim expressions. "And you're not pleased whatsoever. So what went wrong?"

"I found out more than intended," I tell him, falling into my own bed. "Much…much more."

Confused, James unhurriedly lays back against his pillow. "How so?"

Snapping my teeth down on my lower lip, I close my eyes. "She told me all about her past. It—I mean, she sounded rather nonchalant about it. But it was horrible. She's with a foster family, she had a bunch of weight problems in third year – do you remember her well back then?"

James thoughtfully taps his index finger to his chin. "A bit, yeah. Before she grew into herself."

I shake my head, revulsion churning my stomach. "She didn't grow into herself."

Peter, who has been listening quietly from his bed, asks, "What d'you mean?"

"I mean…I mean, she stopped eating. Only when she had to, she ate. I wish I could remember," I divulge painfully.

"Is that the worst of it or is there something you're not telling me?" James glances between Peter and I.

"Well, would you consider cutting her arms the 'worst of it'?" Peter says before I can open my mouth.

James turns to him in horror. "Yeah—yeah, I'd say so."

An impulsive idea registers in my mind. "We have to find ways to stop her," I burst out.

"How do you propose we do that?" James lifts a brow.

"I-I don't know yet," I frown sheepishly, tugging on the thought in my head. Yes, it would make sense, wouldn't it? To try and interfere with her addiction.

I must disclose this, only to my psyche, that this is the first time I have been completely unsure of myself. I have always believed my confidence everlasting but for once, I am at a downright loss. Ainslee isn't quite a friend, no, but she's certainly a person. A good person, with the right intentions (I'd hope), and hence does not deserve to be in such an amount of relentless pain. However, the question isn't of whether or not she deserves it. More accurately, it's how to stop her from receiving it. "I've got to think of something…"

"You don't have to devise another plan today, Padfoot. The first one you came up with worked too well anyway," James chortles darkly. I can tell he's dwelling on the same things that I am. He is, after all, my best friend. If I can't virtually peruse his mind after six years, then Merlin help me.

"Well enough to inspire a second one," I return, my voice dismal.

"It's not like we can put a second plan into action at the current moment," Peter argues. I struggle to keep my brash mouth in line before it stealthily took all eloquent thought.

"No, of course not, you dolt. But we could start it off first thing tomorrow--"

"All right, enough," James interjects hastily, "Sirius – tomorrow, mate. Peter – don't fight him about it, okay?"

"Fine," we both gripe.

James Potter, ever the peacekeeper.

"So that's the plan, we'll work it out in the morning, it's much too late…" I tune out James, going back to the common room.

"Are you crying for me?" She had asked, appearing a bit disconcerted at the idea. Her face flared scarlet from her neck to her forehead. "Don't cry for me…I was born to be the way I am…"

I had pushed closer into her neck, continuing to whine.

"No one worries about me…that's the way it should be…"

"Padfoot?"

I come to, abruptly aware that I should have been listening to James. "Um, yes. Sorry about that, mate. You know me…easily distracted." I laugh lightly though it sounds dreadfully strained, even to my own ears.

"Easily amused is more like it," Peter pipes up, smiling a bit.

"Indeed, that too," I wink, wrenching my lips into a lively grin. My cheerful attitude does not con James though; of course, I can never get anything by him. He's watching me with anxious hazel eyes and I curse myself for believing that I could possibly slip by his radar. Stupid git; I don't mean to worry anyone, why can't he just let it go?

Besides, it's not me we have to worry about, I adjoin wryly to myself. It's the one no one's concentrating on any longer.

"Sirius, maybe you should get some rest. You look a god-awful mess," James says, his tone brimming with concern.

I acquiesce but part of my mind is screaming for me to think of something better; something to help Ainslee. "We can't allow Ainslee to be alone or unhappy," I murmur heedlessly. "Because…it's an addiction and…she'll keep at it if she's not happy or distracted…and…"

"We'll talk about it in the morning," James repeats, "When Moony's awake. He can help us come up with an answer."

My consciousness is drifting, for some reason, to a distant memory.

Pushed open the door…

Familiar robes…

Warily approached the figure…

Blood on the floor…

"Sirius?"

"Let him sleep, Peter."

And the sound of my own voice screaming…

author's note; woo, this is better than the last two, thank god, even if it is a bit short (blushes). thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far; you're all great :"D and by the way, if anyone wants to check out the teasers and spoilers i've got on the internet, the link is in my biography thing, so go for it. i'd love to hear what you think. oh oh, and i'm so incredibly excited to write chapter six because that's when you find out what they're all remembering.