Disclaimer: Not mine. Making no money.

Summary: Sirius has become an Animagus - but will his transformation do more harm than good?

Part Four: Leading the Pack

"Arrogant," said James Potter, his voice thick with disgust. "Arrogant, reckless, stupid, rash, brainless…" His voice trailed off bitterly.

"I – I don't understand," said Peter timidly, hoping the sudden invective wasn't aimed at him. James had fallen silent after Peter had asked how they were going to get Padfoot out of the room again, and Peter had long since learned not to interrupt those particular silences.

"I am," said James, "Arrogant, stupid, reckless, all of it. I just killed my best friend."

There were a few happy yips from the other side of the door.

"It doesn't sound like it," said Peter hopefully.

"Not yet," said James grimly. "But it will."

The night had passed relatively peacefully, or at least it seemed to have. There was a lot of thumping from the other side of the door, as though furniture was being overturned – but carelessly, accidentally, not in rage. There were some shared barks that almost sounded like laughter; occasional whines; and at one point a weird noise somewhere between a howl and a whine. Neither James nor Peter had ever heard it before, so they assumed it had come from Padfoot; but nonetheless it didn't sound terror-filled or as though Sirius were in danger.

There were some more whines, softer this time; then a long silence. James and Peter both sat up straighter – something seemed different.

There was a large creaking noise; then the door opened, and Sirius Black looked out.

"It's over," he whispered. "He's unconscious."

James leapt up and grabbed Sirius in a tight embrace, nearly delirious with joy. "He – he didn't turn into the Between again?"

Sirius shuddered, and gently disentangled himself from the crush of his friend's arms. "He did," said Sirius softly. "But he passed out first. Then it just sort of… happened." His face, pale already after the night's exertions, lost a little more color.

"Bad?" whispered James.

Sirius merely nodded. The mutations had been ghastly to watch, but he wasn't able to look away. Limbs stretched and contorted, elongating and reshaping. Bones moved violently beneath the skin, muscles and blood vessels churning around them. Sirius had been grateful that his friend was unconscious during the transformation back.

He led James and Peter into the room. Remus was already on the bed, curled up into a ball.

"I convinced the Wolf to lie down before he passed out," said Sirius. James opened his schoolbag, and began pulling out the usual Muggle remedies they'd brought along. A cursory inspection told him there wasn't much damage.

"Looks like he's only got some bites on his arms," said James, "and they don't look too deep at all."

"I think I did some of those," said Sirius, blushing a little. "The Wolf likes to wrestle. I think he's missed having a pack."

Peter opened his schoolbag, too. Normally, his sole contribution to Remus' recovery was the gift of a chocolate frog. This time he produced two, and handed one to Sirius. "I figured you could use it," he said simply.

Sirius took the sweet, expressed his gratitude, and practically sucked it down. "That was really good," he murmured.

Peter had moved to a window. "Hey, fellows," he said, "it's nowhere near dawn. It's still dark out." He looked back at Remus. "You don't think he's going to change again, do you?"

Sirius shook his head. "The moon has set already."

There was a pause, as James did a quick mental calculation. "Sunrise isn't for another couple hours," he said softly. "We always waited 'til sunrise. We didn't calculate moonfall. Not once," he said, starting to sound distressed. "Not once in three years."

"Is that bad?" asked Peter softly.

"It means that there are times we could have come in sooner," said James softly. "Instead, we just left him lying there, on the floor. Bleeding. Hurt. But we could've come in sooner."

"But we didn't know," protested Peter.

"We just didn't think," said Sirius. "We thought we were being his friends. Instead we just let him suffer." A few hours here, a few hours there; over the months and years it added up to – how much? Days? Weeks?

"But Madam Pomfrey never comes before sunrise," said Peter. "So she left him there, too."

"I still don't feel any better about it," said James. By this time James and Sirius had tucked Remus under the covers of the bed, and Sirius was smoothing the insensible boy's hair down with trembling fingers.

"But the rest of it worked, didn't it?" said Peter. "You helped him. He didn't hurt himself like he usually does."

"That's true," said James. "We should be grateful it worked." He stared at Sirius. "I'm bloody grateful you're alive, mate."

Sirius flashed him a smile. "Thanks." He breathed in hard. They had hours to go before sunrise, and the room, while messy, wasn't bloodstained or gory. Peter seemed quite comfortable there. But Sirius wanted him to leave, to go, so he could talk to James alone.

He found himself not wanting to share this with Peter.

"How was it, Sirius?"

"Bloody amazing." He rubbed his eyes.
"You look awful," said James, "exhausted. You should lie down. We'll wake you before Madam Pomfrey comes."

Sirius nodded. He lay across the foot of the bed, stretching out lengthwise. James transfigured the chocolate frog wrapper into a pillow and snuggled it under Sirius' head. As Sirius began to drowse, he heard James say, "Peter, we've got some time before you need to play lookout. Fancy a game of Exploding Snap?"

Sirius slept deeply and dreamlessly. He sleep was so profound that for a few worried moments James had thought he was unconscious, perhaps hurt; but Sirius flicked open his eyes once James pulled him into a sitting position.

"Oi, mate!" hissed James. "Madam Pomfrey's coming. Peter and I are going. You need to go hide in the niche."

Sirius rubbed his eyes. "I will. I swear!" he added grumpily, seeing the look on James' face. "Just go, okay?"

James hugged his friend quickly, then slipped quietly out of the room.

They must've left it 'til really late, thought Sirius. He fell back asleep precisely where James had found him.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder, and he jolted awake. He turned onto his back, and found himself looking into Madam Pomfrey's face.

"Good morning, Mr. Black," she said quietly. "I wasn't sure whether it was you or Mr. Potter. You haven't bothered to hide from me today."

Sirius gaped at her; finally he managed to say, "I was too tired to move."

Madam Pomfrey nodded, as though this were a perfectly acceptable explanation. In fact, her whole behavior indicated that Sirius' presence was entirely normal.

"Are you at all injured, dear?" she asked.

Sirius shook his head. He was still stunned, but alert enough to notice she'd called him 'dear.' She was rarely so comforting to her patients, as though she believed a stern lecture about avoiding accidents was as good a medicine as healing spells. Sirius was much more accustomed to lectures from her on the pointlessness of his frequent Quidditch-related injuries. She never called him 'dear' in those admonitions.

Madam Pomfrey left his side, and turned her attention to Remus. "And how is Mr. Lupin this morning?"

She clearly expected an answer, but Remus Lupin was still in no condition to give it. So Sirius said, "He had a pretty good night last night. He… he didn't seem to hurt himself too much."

Madam Pomfrey said a few healing spells over Remus' still-unawakened form; the few cuts and bruises began to look less livid. "Well, that'll take a few hours to fully heal," she said, nevertheless sounding quite satisfied. "But you're used to the process, aren't you, dear? I can trust you to get him back to the castle, yes?"

Sirius stared at her.

"You – you – you know?"

Madam Pomfrey laughed, as though he'd told her a truly delightful joke. "Of course I know! Good Merlin, lad," she said, "Do you think I'm dim? I'd been treating him for a year and a half, when one morning I come in here, and instead of finding him on the floor he's neatly tucked into bed, and someone had put Muggle bandages on him. He wasn't in any condition to do it himself. It had to be his friends."

Sirius' heart raced. The reason they'd always hidden when she came was the punishment they feared if their monthly vigils at the Shrieking Shack were discovered. They'd never asked permission, knowing it would be denied. "Are you going to tell Dumbledore?"

"My dear boy, he's known for years. Ever since I first found that someone else had started looking after Mr. Lupin."

"He… he never stopped us?"

"Why would he?"

"And he never said anything to us!"

She smiled at him warmly. "I suppose he wanted you to have your little secret." She looked back at Remus. "Do try to get him back to the castle in time for lunch, won't you, Mr. Black?"

And with that, she swept out of the room.

Sirius sat and stared at the door for a while; then he looked back at the inert form of his boyfriend. Remus was breathing steadily, and the sheets that James and Sirius had tucked around him rose and fell in a stable rhythm. Sirius crawled up the length of the bed, and lay down next to Remus, resting his head on the same pillow. He stretched out, face down on top of the covers, his body curving against Lupin's. He reached out, and flung an arm over his lover's midsection.

It was a familiar, comfortable position, dating back to their second year at Hogwarts, their first year of real friendship. Sirius had heard crying and whimpering from the smaller boy's curtained bed, and had found Remus crying in his sleep. Acting on some impulse he had never really understood, Sirius had crawled into Remus' bed and cuddled against him. The crying had calmed; then stopped. Sirius eventually fell asleep there, and in the morning Remus Lupin was neither shocked nor embarrassed by his presence.

It became an unspoken habit from then on, not one practiced nightly, but often enough to call it a habit. Sometimes Remus would crawl into Sirius' bed; sometimes it was the other way around. But they frequently slept snuggled against one another.

Then they'd become lovers.

As Remus slumbered on, Sirius made a careful study of his boyfriend's face, and of the play of light and shadow on it as the sun rose higher into the sky.

So beautiful. So very, very beautiful. Such a pretty boy – so tempting – finely curved eyelashes, a full mouth…

His eyes stole ever downwards to the form outlined beneath the thin sheets.

Delicate shoulders… slender waist, slim hips…

The Wolf had been a gorgeous, deep silver color, a color vaguely remembered from countless shared demi-dreams. But just as Remus had expected that his lover would transfigure into a tiger, Sirius had somehow imagined his lover's alter-form as a small, tawny-colored wolf. Small and preferring to be submissive, like his human self. The Wolf's size, strength, and dominance had been unexpected.

And invigorating.

It was going to be different between them somehow, Sirius knew that instinctively, but he wasn't afraid of what the change might bring. Different, but better.

The Wolf's initial claiming of Padfoot had been perfunctory, as though the Wolf were simply saying, "There, it's done." But the Wolf hadn't stopped there; three more times during their play, the Wolf had claimed Padfoot as his mate. The second time, Padfoot had been unsure what the Wolf wanted: the Wolf had tried pushing him down, but he'd lain all the way down, preventing access. Then the Wolf had tried to raise Padfoot's hindquarters, only for the dog to stand all the way up. The Wolf had given a frustrated bark, and thrown the dog again, and repeated the ritual from the first time. It had been nearly as mechanical as their first coupling.

But Padfoot learned quickly. The third time, he'd understood what the Wolf wanted from him, and had raised his rear into the air while kneeling down on his forelegs. The Wolf had rewarded him with tender nips and licks, but paid attention only to his own satiation before dismounting and wanting to play some more.

The final time… the final time, Padfoot had offered himself to the Wolf, backing up slowly, his rear raised. And the Wolf had responded with appreciation: the final mating had been slow, luxurious, attentive. The Wolf had coaxed a howl of pleasure from the dog… from the boy inside the dog.

Sirius reached over, and softly traced the outline of his boyfriend's lips. Then he gently placed his mouth on Remus'. He felt a surge of guilt: even though Remus was his willing lover, and though he'd always been tender with the werewolf after a transformation, Sirius had never before crossed the boundary from caregiver to lover on a morning after. The mere idea had somehow seemed profane, as though he would be taking advantage of Remus' weakened state.

Remus stirred beneath him, and Sirius deepened the kiss, hoping to overcome his own feelings of guilt with passion. He brushed his tongue against the other boy's lips, and felt the mouth open, welcoming him. Remus reached up, and lazily ran his fingers through Sirius' hair. He sent his tongue to meet Sirius', too, and to play with it.

Slowly, Sirius ended the kiss, gently caressing the side of his boyfriend's face as he pulled away. Remus' eyes fluttered open, and he smiled faintly.

"'S nice way to wake up," he murmured.

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Mmmhmmm." Then he inhaled suddenly, and tried to pull himself into a sitting position. "Last night –"

"Bloody brilliant," said Sirius.

"I – I – on top of you –inside you–"

"Loved it."

"You're not angry?"

"Why would I be angry, Remus?"

"We've never done it that way as – as humans. I always bottom."

"You don't have to." He kissed the tip of Remus' nose. "I was surprised at first, I won't deny that. But, yeah… it was good. Especially the last time." He pulled Remus into his lap, and kissed him again. The other boy, tired as he was, nonetheless wrapped himself around Sirius.

The kiss ended, and they separated, both panting.

"Madam Pomfrey," murmured Remus.

"Moony, I'm crushed! Were you just thinking of her?"

Remus playfully batted his boyfriend's chest. "I just mean she'll be coming soon." He held up an admonishing finger before Sirius could speak. "Coming to see me, I mean."

"She's been and gone. We're alone."

Remus sighed, and leaned against him. For a moment, Sirius thought he was being flirtatious; then he realized the other boy was still overwhelmed by exhaustion. He gently lowered Remus back onto the pillows.

"Sleep, love," Sirius murmured. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Sirius did indeed get Remus back to the Great Hall in time for lunch, though the meal was half-finished when they arrived. Both boys were pale and weak, but since Sirius' exhaustion came merely from running around all night as Padfoot, he was enjoying a quicker recovery. Still, his rising spirits and increasing healthiness didn't stop him from looking after his boyfriend tenderly, insisting that Remus eat just a few bites more.

Part of the problem was the heat: it was October, so there should have been at least a hint of fall in the air. Instead, the weather appeared to have decided that it was mid-August.

Sirius and James walked Remus back to the dorm after lunch. The room was scorching in the unseasonable heat, but Remus insisted on staying. James was uncomfortable, though neither of his friends appeared to notice it – or if they had, they'd put his moodiness down to the weather.

James tried to quell a strange feeling – was it jealousy? Yes, a little; but, he decided it was also loneliness. He felt left out.

Sirius and Remus had shared something special, and James hadn't been a part of it. Worse, he felt as though he'd never be a part of it. They were already lovers, which meant they shared a private bond, one deeper and more intimate than the one Sirius and James shared. But becoming Animagi would, James had imagined, level the field. They'd be equals, play with Moony together.

It had been the ultimate prank, and James hadn't been able to keep up.

He felt… inferior.

Sirius finally noticed James' mood during their final class. Remus had still felt too tired to attend, and had missed classes the rest of the day. Peter had kept up a nearly continuous stream of giddy chatter, wandering from topic to topic with no sense or cohesion, keeping Sirius annoyed and distracted. It wasn't until Sirius and James were in Arithmancy – which Peter didn't take – that they were allowed some measure of privacy.

"I don't think I've ever actually wanted to kill Peter before today," Sirius muttered to his best friend, "but if he had Arithmancy, too, I think I might have strangled him just to shut him up. What is with him?"

James shrugged morosely. "Hard to say."

"Are you all right? Jamey?"

"I didn't have a good night."

"Because – because you were worried about me?" Sirius sounded startled.

James nodded. That was only part of the problem, of course, but this was hardly the time or the place to hash things out between them.

"Well, cheer up, mate, I'm alive. That thought might depress Snape but it should give you a grin."

James forced a lopsided smile. "I think I just need to sleep."

"You and me both. This heat's a monster. We should've skived off."

"Peter's back in the dorm."

"Oh, hell. Well, I'm glad we're in class, then." And after a few minutes: "Poor Remus. I hope he can sleep through all the babble."

After class, they walked back to Gryffindor Tower together, not speaking; but this time it was not the shared easy silence of the night before. Sirius was worried, but he also knew, from many years' experience, that bullying James when he was in one of these rare bad moods was pointless. James would tell him what was wrong when he felt like it, and not a moment before; all the badgering in the world wouldn't get him to confess. Peter had never lasted more than a few minutes under the pressure of Sirius' interrogations; his inability to repress his emotions was just as poor as Sirius' own. Even Remus – for whom keeping his own counsel was practically gospel –eventually relented. But James never did. So Sirius went against all his instincts, and practiced patience.

Dinner passed quietly, at least among the Marauders. Peter had excused himself to the Hufflepuff table – apparently the constant chatter during the day had been about a girl he was trying to court. James kept his silence; and Remus, who had come down from the dorm, was still spent from both the previous night's change and from playing with Padfoot. So Sirius sat in unaccustomed silence, speaking only occasionally to urge Remus to eat a little more: "Just a little chicken, Moony, or a bite of cake. You still don't look too good."

Remus gave a sudden shudder, and his fork slipped from his fingers.

"Sirius."

Sirius Black looked up, almost surprised that James had spoken. Well, it wasn't the moment he'd've chosen, but it James wanted to talk now, so be it; he'd listen.

"Yes, Jamey?"

"We should take turns looking after him tonight."

Sirius nodded his agreement, and with that, James Potter stood up, excused himself, and went back to the dorm room.

The room was unpleasantly hot and stuffy when Sirius and Remus got back to it. James was clad only in his underpants; Peter was in a pair of pajama bottoms he'd cut off just above the knee. James had opened all the windows, and drawn back the curtains around the beds, in an attempt to get air flowing through the room: weather charms had been forbidden in the dorm rooms ever since a Ravenclaw had tried to summon a wind and accidentally created a hurricane, nearly destroying half their Tower.

"It's like the heat wave in here," murmured Remus Lupin as he dropped, sitting, onto his bed.

Their third year at Hogwarts, May had been unseasonably hot – hotter than August eventually proved to be that year. In some ways, the heat wave had been a good thing: too hot to stand even the slightest amount of clothing, the boys had agreed – well, three of them had agreed, and outvoted Peter Pettigrew – that in the privacy of the dorm room, they'd go without clothing. There had been some embarrassed giggling at first, as they tried to sneak and not-sneak glances at each other's naked bodies. Sirius had solved the dilemma in typical fashion: he'd leapt up onto his bed, spread arms and legs wide apart, and shout-chanted, "Naked, naked, naked!" until James and Remus were nearly sick with laughter. Then each of the other two boys had done the same in turn. Embarrassment faded – at least for the three of them – and they'd grown used to the sight of each other.

They grew accustomed, too, to the changes that were happening to them, and to the idea that their bodies sometimes did embarrassing things without their willing them to.

Sirius and Remus hadn't shared a bed that month, but only because the heat was too great for physical contact. By the time the heat wave broke, James, Remus, and Sirius had reached a new level of comfort with one another, and the kind of intimacy that has little to do with sex and everything to do with brotherhood.

"I looked it up in the Wizarding Farmer's Almanac," said Peter Pettigrew. "They predict unseasonably hot weather for today and tonight, but it should get back to normal tomorrow."

"Do they say why it's so hot?" asked Sirius.

"Something about the moon," said Peter.

Remus sighed. "It always is, isn't it?" He shrugged out of his robes, then shed his clothing, leaving them in an uncustomarily untidy heap on the floor next to his bed. "I'm going to sleep. I'm still wrecked."

"Me, too," mumbled Peter. "I hope I don't puke from the heat."

"We'll take care of you if you do, Petey."

Remus fell asleep right away. Sirius took first watch, sitting naked on a chair he'd dragged next to his boyfriend's bed. He had a slight erection, but he didn't really feel like doing anything about it, and he certainly wasn't going to ask his exhausted lover to take care of it. He pressed a cold cloth against Remus' forehead, hoping to keep his fever down.

Night fell; the heat did not dissipate.

James, barely able to sleep in any event, made his way over to Remus' bed just after midnight. He could hear Peter snoring gently.

Sirius stood as his friend approached. They exchanged a few words – mostly on Sirius' part – and James took his place watching over Remus.

It wasn't their regular practice to watch over the werewolf after a transformation. But the year of the heat wave, the night after Remus transformed, the sweltering heat and his own post-transformation fever were nearly too much for his system. He'd started puking in his bed, but had been too exhausted to turn over; if Sirius hadn't rushed from his own bed and turned him on his side he would have choked to death. Sirius and James had moved him to Sirius' bed afterward, and spent the rest of the night keeping watch.

James watched the half-sleeping figure, drifting in thought. He began shaking, and felt tears standing in his eyes. It had been building all day, ever since he and Peter had left the Shack. James had thought, for the first time ever: I'm not needed. Sirius and Remus have all they need with each other. Best friends, lovers, wolf and dog…

James had looked at Peter as they walked back to the castle, and suddenly realized: This is my future. Tagging along. Wanting to be on the inside, but always on the outside. I'll never be one of the boys again.

I'll never be part of the pack.

Remus' eyes snapped open, and James almost jumped up in surprise. The werewolf's eyes glowed a weird golden color; James wasn't sure if it was the heat, if Remus was sick.

"The beta smells distressed." Lupin's voice was calm, but sounded rougher somehow.

"I – what? What did you call me?"

Remus tilted his head in a very wolflike fashion.

"I am the alpha," he said in the same voice. He indicated Sirius' bed with a nod. "There lies my mate." He caught James' eyes again. "You are the beta. If the alpha falls, the beta leads."

"Are you all right, Remus?"

"The alpha is concerned for his pack," said the werewolf. "The beta smells distressed."

A shiver ran up James' spine, despite the heat.

The heat. The heat, and the fever. James suddenly realized that the being he was talking to wasn't his schoolfriend.

It was the Wolf who lived inside him.

"The beta feels unneeded," said James softly.

The Wolf gave a snort. "If the beta was not needed, the beta would be put out of the pack." Glowing golden eyes darted to Peter's bed and back. "Even the omega is needed, and it is not as valuable as the beta."

"I – thank you," said James. He didn't know what else to say.

"The beta's distress is eased?"

"Um, yes."

"Good. The alpha requires sleep. The beta will keep watch."

The werewolf's eyes fluttered closed.

James watched his sleeping friend. In a month, two at the most, he knew he would have the Animagus transformation mastered himself. And if one Animagus had brought the Wolf this close to the surface, what would two do?

What would three?