Chapter 3: The Beginning of the Middle

"Peter!"

Peter Pettigrew woke up with a jump. Someone was shaking him.

Blinking sleep out of his eyes, he saw Danger Granger leaning over him, looking concerned. "What happened?" she asked. "You look like something tried to eat you alive."

Something did. But he couldn't tell her that. "I... just hurt myself. Falling down the stairs."

"What stairs?"

"Those stairs." Peter pointed at the boys' staircase leading out of the Gryffindor common room.

"Oh. All right. Have you been to the hospital wing?"

"No, I was just going to sleep it off–"

"So I noticed. And how exactly were you going to sleep off all these scrapes and cuts?" Danger's voice had taken on the tone he recognized from the study sessions. It meant 'cut the bull and tell me what's really going on here'.

"I... heal fast. I'm used to it."

"Yes, I've noticed you and your friends tend to bang yourselves up quite a bit. At least they're smart enough to go to the hospital for it. Come on."

And before Peter could muster a protest, his wrist had been seized, and he was being dragged towards the portrait hole.

He managed to get a look at his watch as Danger towed him through the halls. His stomach had told him it was pretty late, but he hadn't known it was so close to noon.

All right, I'll go to hospital, then I'll go get some lunch. I'm sure the others are waiting for me in the Great Hall.

But he was wrong. Madam Pomfrey turned away from tending James to motion him to a vacant bed, next to the one where Sirius was sitting, already sporting one or two bandages and that look on his face that meant he'd had to drink a potion.

Around Madam Pomfrey, James jerked his head toward Danger, who was getting ready to leave, then flashed them a sign. Peter identified it, after a moment's thought, as Stall.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Moony hasn't woken up," answered Sirius, perhaps just a touch louder than he needed to, to reach the ears of Peter's departing escort, who froze in the act of walking out the door.

"Oh – is he going to be all right?" Even to himself, Peter sounded lame.

"We don't know," said James as Madam Pomfrey finished with him and came over to Peter. "This hasn't ever happened before."

That much Peter knew was true. Remus was usually tired and sore after his transformations, but he was almost always awake the next morning, though he didn't want to do much of anything. He might occasionally have a lie-in, but it was never this long. He was the original morning lark, and for him to stay asleep so late was a sign that something was very far wrong.

Of course, we knew that already.

Peter swallowed hard, recalling his moment of absolute terror the night before, when the werewolf had pounced on him and snapped him up. Sirius and James had had to gang up on Remus to make him drop Peter, and it was a very good thing that they couldn't be infected with lycanthropy while they were in animal form, because otherwise all four of them would have been werewolves today. If Peter had even been alive.

He's never been violent towards us before. We go hunting sometimes – well, he and Sirius go hunting, and James and I stay out of the way – but he never tries to hurt any of us.

I wonder what changed?

After finishing with the Pettigrew boy, Poppy Pomfrey shooed all three of her ambulatory patients out of the hospital wing, promising that they could come back later in the afternoon. When they were all safely gone, she went around the screens to have another look at the poor Lupin boy. He wrung her heart as few of these young people did – doomed by an unlucky chance to spend his entire life half-ill, shunned by anyone who happened to find out his secret.

Perhaps it would be better if he didn't wake up...

She chided herself immediately for that thought. Young Lupin had three good friends at least – it was seldom that boys found an excuse to look in on a friend in hospital. She smiled to herself. Trust them to have to shove one another around first, though, so that they had an excuse to come.

She heard the quiet squeak of hinges that meant someone had just come in, and stepped out from behind the screen to see a third year girl, another Gryffindor, if she wasn't mistaken. Not someone she knew well – Granger, she thought the name was, but the girl had some kind of nickname...

"I was hoping I could see Remus," the girl said almost shyly. "I know he's not awake yet, but may I?"

She can't possibly hurt him, so I don't see why not. "Yes, very well. There won't be much point in talking to him, of course, but if you just want to sit with him a moment, that's quite all right."

The girl nodded and came down the ward, for a wonder walking as quietly as Poppy did herself. She sat down in the chair beside the bed, and Poppy slipped discreetly away, to give the girl at least the illusion of privacy.

But I think I'll just make sure she doesn't try anything funny...

She sat down quietly on the bed just the other side of the screen to listen.

"I hope you're all right," the girl said very quietly, apparently talking to Lupin. "I'd be sad if you weren't, you know. I don't hate you. I was mad the other day. I still think you should have done something. But I know how it is when your friends are doing things they shouldn't – you don't want to speak up, because they might get angry with you... but that was wrong of them, and I wish you'd done something about it. You're a prefect. You're supposed to do something about things like this."

A quiet, breathy laugh. "And I suppose I should have said all this that day, instead of just yelling at you and... doing what I did. I'm sorry for that. And I know you were lying when you said what you said at the Shrieking Shack." A sigh. "I just hope someday you'll be able to trust me."

Unable to conceal her curiosity, Poppy peered between screen and wall just in time to see the girl kiss her own fingertips, then brush them very gently against Lupin's cheek. "Get well soon," she murmured. "I miss you when you're not around."

Poppy was straightening a bed halfway down the ward when the girl emerged from behind the screens. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," she said, smiling at the nurse.

"You're welcome." Poppy saw her out and closed the door behind her.

"Madam Pomfrey?" called a hoarse voice from the other end of the room.

Poppy hurried down the ward, surprised. Lupin's eyes were open, and he had one hand raised to his cheek, his fingers touching the spot the girl's had caressed. "Was there... someone else here?" he asked, looking a bit confused.

"Yes, your friends were here, but they left," said Poppy, electing not to embarrass the poor boy by telling him that a girl, and one younger than himself, had been to look in on him. "Let's have a look at you, then."

Remus had always known that his emotions affected his transformation. It was one of the reasons he tried to stay as calm and happy as he could. When he was agitated, no matter the reason, so was the wolf, and an agitated wolf was more than usually violent, and less controllable. And for a werewolf, that was very bad indeed.

But he hadn't been able to avoid being agitated last night. Pacing the rooms of the Shrieking Shack, trying to ignore the pain in his knees and hips, waiting for the moon to rise, he hadn't been able to avoid going over and over the events of a certain afternoon. Hadn't been able to avoid seeing the contempt and anger on the face of a thirteen-year-old witch, hearing her call him worse than the others, seeing her wipe his kiss from her lips as if it defiled her.

And the worst of it was, she was right. Or at least not wrong. Sitting there, not getting involved, made him at the very best no better than his friends.

But if he had called them to task, they wouldn't have listened – and she couldn't understand the place they held in his life, Remus argued with himself. James and Sirius and Peter weren't just his friends, they were the keepers of his secret. He couldn't afford to anger them. The consequences could be worse than he could imagine.

But he still should have done something, his conscience niggled.

It was in this state of mind that the change overtook him. He fell into darkness, and discovered with a little shock that he liked it there. It was quiet, and peaceful, and in some ways even pleasant. Perhaps he'd stay. No one could find him in the dark. No one could hurt him there.

But someone had come after him. Someone's voice, and someone's touch, had called him back to the light. He owed whoever that was a great deal, Remus thought.

There was only one problem.

He didn't know who it had been.

After lunch, while he was still thinking about this, the other Marauders came to see him.

"Glad to see you awake, Moony," said James, dropping down on the end of his bed.

"Thanks – what happened to you?" James had a bandaged cheek and was favoring one leg.

"So you don't remember," said Sirius, sitting in the chair beside his bed and rubbing his right arm. "Thought you might not. You happened to us."

"Me? But–" Remus stopped, in case Madam Pomfrey was near enough to hear. She knew, of course, but she didn't know the other Marauders knew.

"It's clear," said Peter from where he was standing at the end of the screen.

Remus lowered his voice anyway. "But I never attack you in animal form!"

"Tell that to Wormtail," said James. "You damn near ate him."

Remus stared at the smaller boy, aghast. "Good God – I'm so sorry, Peter, I didn't mean to."

Peter shrugged. "I know. It's all right."

"We both had to hit you at once to make you drop him," said Sirius. "And then you went after us. What had you worked up last night? You only ever act like that when you're upset about something."

Not for the first time, Remus reflected on how annoying it was to have best friends who knew practically everything about him. "Just worried about how I did on my O.W.L.s."

"Oh, you passed," said James with a roll of his eyes. "You only studied six hours a day for eight weeks."

But they don't know everything yet.

They don't notice when I lie.

Remus wasn't sure whether to be grateful or unhappy about this. Grateful, because it made friendship a lot easier to maintain with a few little white lies here and there. Unhappy, because it meant they didn't really care about him enough to see if he was lying or not...

You're taking it wrong again. It's not that they don't care – maybe they just choose not to see.

Or maybe they're just typical boys. Thick as a dragon's hide when it comes to anything emotional.

And with this highly likely hypothesis Remus had to be content.

"You must come to visit this summer," Lily Evans told Aletha Freeman and Danger Granger over the end-of-term feast. "I'll write to you – Danger, I don't think I have your address."

"Number seventeen Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey – I'll write it down for you." Danger pitched her voice subtly louder than she needed to. "Thanks for the invitation, Lily. It's so often that people make good friends at school, but don't carry it over into the summer."

I hope that works the way I want it to...

The day before the first full moon of the summer, Remus was in his bedroom, trying without much success to get interested in a book, when he heard the doorbell ring.

"I'll get it," called his father's voice, and there was the sound of the door opening, then a low-voiced colloquy that Remus couldn't catch.

Probably a delivery or something. Remus returned to his semi-reading.

Then he heard his hinges squeak ever so slightly.

He looked up. His door had been pulled closed, but not latched. Now it had drifted open. But there was no one in the hallway, or at least no one he could see...

Huh. Remus got up and went to the door, sticking his head out into the hall. There was no one there, in either direction.

Must have been a draft. He went back to his bed and sat down.

"What are you reading?" asked a voice from behind him.

Remus yelped. "Where did you come from?" he demanded, whirling around.

Peter grinned. "The hall."

"Thank you, Captain Literal."

"You're welcome." Peter removed the book from Remus' lax hands and threw it across the room.

"Yow!" said another voice as the book impacted with apparently empty air. With a ripple of silvery fabric, James and Sirius materialized in one corner of the room, James rubbing his head.

Remus stared around the room at his friends, feeling a smile start on his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Mooching," said Sirius, dropping into the big stuffed chair Remus loved to curl up in. "I'm getting good at it, living at Prongs' place now."

"He gets the better bedroom," said James conspiratorially.

"So we decided to drop in and stay a couple of nights," finished Sirius.

"Do your parents know that we know?" inquired James.

"Not yet – let me go rectify that, or they'll be trying to kick you out – wait here, just don't break anything." Remus left his bedroom, thoughts in happy confusion.

They came. They know I hate transforming without them, so they came.

I wonder what made them think of it?

To no one's surprise, Aletha Freeman had a badge on her robes when the Marauders saw her on platform nine and three-quarters that fall. "Follows the rules when everyone's watching," groused Sirius. "But I know she put Barnaby's Boil Inducer on my broom last spring – I just can't prove it!"

"And you never will," said Freeman from behind him, making him jump. "Because if you ever try to pin that on me, I'll start reminding people of who exactly it was that disarmed you without a fight in June."

"I wasn't expecting it!" protested Sirius.

"Yes, and I'm sure Dark wizards always give you fair warning before they start cursing you." Freeman rolled her eyes. "Wants to be an Auror, and he can't even keep his wand in his hand. The wizarding world can certainly sleep safe at night with him guarding our doors."

Sirius appeared lost for words as Freeman walked away, somehow managing to inject sarcasm even into her movements.

"She has a point, you know, Padfoot," said James.

"Oh, you're one to talk. Hexed by a third year."

Remus and Peter shared a weary glance as the quarrel continued.

Overall, Remus thought, sixth year was one of his best at Hogwarts. His transformations were now something to look forward to rather than dread; he had begun keeping a list of interesting things they'd found, but it was getting rather long. James had the idea, in October, of making the list into something visual rather than verbal, and Sirius came up with a map.

"But maps don't work at Hogwarts," said Peter in confusion. "The castle's always changing. Remember when the hospital wing was on the sixth floor?"

"We'd have to charm it so it stayed current," said James. "Wonder if we could..."

Working together, they could. By Christmas, they had a map of the castle which could be depended upon to show the correct location of all the rooms, all the time.

"Now if we could only see Filch coming on it," said Sirius, lying in front of the fire at number seventeen, Oxman Road, on Christmas Eve morning. He and the other two Marauders had come to visit Remus, repeating their performances of the summer.

"Filch and Mrs. Norris," said James.

"And Peeves." Peter shivered. Peeves had nearly crushed him by toppling a suit of armor onto him three days before holidays began.

"Why not all the teachers?" asked Remus sarcastically from the couch. "And all the students too? And anyone who just wanders onto the grounds?"

"Yeah, why not?" Sirius sat up. "I bet we could do it."

"Are you crazy, Padfoot? Do you know how much work that would be?"

"Come on, Prongs, we can at least try. Imagine it – a map that shows us everyone, everywhere, in Hogwarts..."

And, to Remus' surprise, they could do it. He could do it. The magical map took form under his wand like no one else's. James and Sirius ended up letting him do all the final work, including the especially tricky spell to ensure that the map wouldn't be fooled by things like Invisibility Cloaks (James' idea) or Animagus transformations (Sirius').

"Why don't you tell it not to let itself be fooled by anything?" suggested Peter.

"Not a bad idea," said Remus thoughtfully. "If I can work it..."

He could. The Marauder's Map was christened at Easter, and had its trial run after the holidays, at which time the Marauders toilet-papered the Slytherin common room and got away without being caught.

If his perfect year was a soup, thought Remus, then the overall pleasantness of not having any kind of important exam was the broth. Full moon nights were the chunks of meat, solid and hearty pieces of enjoyment which had once been bloody and disgusting. The Gryffindor Quidditch team's victories were the vegetables, since they were a little hard to come by but sweet once you got them. The classes were the noodles, dry at first, but wonderfully filling. Overall, it was a delicious mixture.

The only fly in the soup was a certain fourth year witch.

True to her word, Danger was pretending their kiss at the Shrieking Shack had never happened. She was being quietly polite to him, and to all the Marauders, but no more than that. In his more controlled moments, Remus knew this was for the best. He couldn't possibly offer her what she deserved – a good relationship, leading eventually to a loving marriage, a stable home, children. He even went out of his way to introduce her to a few of the nicer boys in her own year, and smiled indulgently when she started to be seen often with Samuel Bevington, a handsome Ravenclaw fifth year.

But late at night, when the other boys were sleeping, he admitted in his mind that he would have liked nothing better than to punch Bevington in the face, for daring to like Danger. He would have loved to claim Danger for his own, to put his mark on her, to warn the world away...

You see, he told himself, you don't love her. You want to possess her. Like a thing. That's not love, that's just... wrong.

But it's not like that, protested the other side of his mind. I want her to claim me too. And mark me, and warn other girls away from me.

As if that's a big problem, laughed the first part of him. You're just fixated on her because no other girl ever showed even a spark of interest in you.

He couldn't deny that.

So let Bevington have her, and you go on with your life. Maybe send her a Christmas card every now and again. She deserves a lot better than you, and you know it. If you really love her, you'll let her go.

Remus turned over in bed, ignoring the spot which appeared on his pillowcase. All right. You win. I'll let her go.

It was the right thing to do, he knew. The decent thing. The proper thing.

And he had never in his life wanted more desperately to be wrong, indecent, and improper.

(A/N: Yes, this is turning out to be a bit more plot-laden than I thought. But it seems you folks like that. Anyone want more of anything? Or less? Do let me know – I try to satisfy all comers! More romance coming up soon – sooner than in LwD! And you'll see why – quite possibly next chapter! Hugs!)