Remus liked mornings. There was something about them that made him feel so alive, so human. Perhaps it was the fresh, clean scent, the comfortable quiet of bodies still asleep, breathing rhythmically and peacefully. Morning was Remus' favorite time of day.

He rose before anyone else in the dormitory, as he had for the previous six years, and crept across the room quietly, not wanting to wake his friends. James and Peter could sleep through a hippogriff attack, and had on at least one very memorable occasion, but Sirius often woke when Remus left the room—no doubt due to a childhood spent in the Black household, where someone entering your room while you slept was more likely to have a drawn wand ready with a vicious hex than a tray of kippers and scones.

Remus stopped in the doorway for a moment, gazing around the dorm. It was mostly the same room it had been first year: Remus' books still littered the floor and dressers and shelves, Peter's odd tinkering inventions still covered his trunk and hung from his bedposts, and James' and Sirius' Quidditch posters still papered the walls, though almost all of the Martin Miggs posters that had been present first and second year had been replaced by busty blonde Playwizard models, each in various stages of undress and all winking suggestively and blowing kisses at the delighted boys. They were all asleep now, and Remus was grateful—they were lovely to look at, aesthetically pleasing at the very least, but their tittering did tend to grate on one's nerves.

Sirius made an unhappy noise in the back of his throat, and rolling over with a faint whimper. Remus looked at him for a moment more, as wild-haired and awkward in sleep as he was groomed and debonair awake, and slipped out of the room, down the hall to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, he stood in front of the mirror and washed his face and hands, then began brushing his molars methodically in small circular motions. He stared into the mirror blankly, shaking his hair out of his eyes. He realized he would have to cut it soon, and sighed into the foamy paste. Perhaps he could get Lily or Alice to cut it—he was not keen on re-experiencing the destruction that had occurred last time he let Sirius anywhere near his head with a pair of clippers. It had been one of the few times he had been glad to be a werewolf, for his hair grew back within the week, and he was able to abandon the terrible wool hat Frank Longbottom had lent him. The flaps had, in fact, kept his ears quite toasty, but he had looked ridiculous, and had been more than glad to be rid of it.

He spat the toothpaste into the basin, cupping water into his mouth and rinsing the taste of mint away. He stared into the mirror, looking critically at the amber eyes that stared back. They were rather odd eyes, he mused, blinking several times. Light brownish-gold, with little flecks of dark brown and olive. Not everyone had eyes like his, he knew, though he was fairly sure it could be attributed to his "condition". He had had brown eyes when he was younger. Plain, boring, Remus-like brown eyes. Many of the pictures that littered the Lupins' fireplace mantle showed a happy young boy with dark hair and those normal brown eyes, smiling up into the camera from whatever mischief he was getting into. Everything about him seemed to have lightened, in the year that followed "the Incident". His hair had been deep brown, nearly black, but had slowly turned to the light golden-brown that was the color of his pelt when he was the wolf, just as his eyes now betrayed flecks of gold, the color of they were when he transformed. It seemed to him as though his personality had faded away as well following his "accident". He had been a loud child, bright and curious and utterly fascinated with the sound of his own voice. After the bite, he had withdrawn from his friends and family, no longer eager and inquisitive, becoming timid and quiet, always thinking before he acted or spoke, and always careful to be mindful of every aspect of a situation he entered into.

If it weren't for the blood-lust, the terrible responsibility that came with it and turned it into such a curse, Remus thought he might not mind being a werewolf. It was painful to transform, but once he was the wolf, he felt such power, such strength. It was unlike being human, completely and totally. When Remus was human, he was awkward and quiet most times, unwilling to speak for fear of embarrassing himself. When he transformed, though…

It was like having liquid steel for muscle and mercury for blood. He was quick and clever and so completely powerful. It was almost too much to bear, sometimes: like living in the darkness your entire life, and then suddenly being thrust into the sunshine. Like having a terrible cold, the kind where your nose and your lungs plug up and you can barely breathe, and suddenly, being cured in a room full of delicious and fragrant food. His eyes could catch the tiniest twitch of a mouse's whisker at a hundred meters; his nose could scent fresh blood from a mile away. And the confidence! The wolf was not afraid of anything. The wolf knew it was the alpha dog.

Remus shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Now was not the time. Really, there was never a time. It would be so easy, he thought now, as he had many times before, just to give in to the wolf. To completely give up, to let the wolf take over his human side until he was nothing but half-man half-beast at the very best. But that was not Remus, and he never wanted it to be. Resolutely, Remus turned from the mirror, running straight into Sirius.

"Unghf!" Sirius said, and fell to the floor, still half-dazed from sleep. "Whass goin' on, Moony?"

"Padfoot! What on Earth are you doing up at—" Remus checked his watch, grimacing. "—Six in the morning?" He bent down and held out a hand to pull Sirius up.

"Haffa take a shiiiiit," Sirius yawned, allowing himself to be pulled up. "'Scuse me." He brushed past Remus to the toilet, closing the stall door behind him.

"Delightful," Remus said brightly, taking his towel and heading for the showers.

By the time he'd emerged, pressed and dressed and clean and smelling like "Zestfully Manly Bubble Shampoo" (Sirius', and the only thing on hand) Sirius was brushing his teeth in a zombie-like state and mumbling dirty words in Latin.

"Pads, why are you calling my mother a child prostitute daughter of a shrew?"

"Is that what I'm saying, then?"

"Err, yes. Thought it might actually be 'daughter of a child prostitute shrew'. I'm not quite sure. My grasp of the language is a bit rusty."

"Faschinating." Sirius sounded anything but fascinated, and took the toothbrush out of his mouth. "What language would that be, then?"

"Ah… Latin," Remus said, looking slightly worried. "You don't know that many languages, do you?"

"I didn't think I knew any," Sirius said placidly, returning to the scrubbing of his canines.

"Right," Remus said, nodding his head as though he understood, secretly dumbfounded and more than a little alarmed. "That's, err… I'll be off then, shall I?"

"Wait!" Sirius said, spitting out the toothpaste into the sink hurriedly, leaving a trail of minty drool all down his chin. "I'm coming with you! Where are we going?"

"I was going to breakfast," Remus said, eyeing Sirius and looking mildly alarmed. "But now I fear I shan't be presentable company at all, if you're coming along."

"I am quite presentable," Sirius huffed, puffing his chest out and trying to smooth his rumpled boxer shorts.

"You are half-clad," Remus pointed out, folding his arms with an air of amusement. "You haven't shaved, and you've a bit of toothpaste. Right there," he said when Sirius batted at his face frantically, and poked him in the chin, grinning.

"I was wrong about Mafalda," Sirius grumbled, snatching Remus' towel from his hands and rubbing his face in it, "you are the wench."

"Yes yes," Remus said, patting Sirius' shoulder. "My, but you're grumpy in the morning. You should have just stayed in bed."

"Nah," Sirius said, ducking into the dormitory to pull on a shirt and shoes, slinging his tie around his neck. He hopped out of the dormitory, pulling his pants up and zipping them. "You were up, anyway."

Remus rolled his eyes when it became apparent that yes, Sirius really did think it was all right to leave the dormitories dressed as he was, and beckoned the other boy over, finger-combing his hair into a state of somewhat-normalcy and retying his tie neatly, with both ends perfectly matched. Sirius made a face, and tugged the tie loose, much to Remus' dismay.

"Pads, leave it," Remus pleaded. "Just this once?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Sirius said, an air of superiority surrounding his wicked grin. "You'd have your nice, neat order, and I'd look like a berk. A bookish berk, at that. A swot. And we couldn't have that, you know how highly James thinks of swots." At this, Sirius' grin became even wickeder, and Remus began to fear for the lives of his fellow students.

"All right, all right," Remus said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Leave the tie."

"I plan to."

Remus sighed. "Breakfast, then?"

Sirius nodded seriously. "Breakfast."

XXXXX

Lily did not like mornings. However, mornings were (unfortunately) a necessary part of the day, and Lily was not one to be defeated by something as silly as a morning, however much she might want to allow herself to be. With a heaving sigh that sounded more like a moan than anything else, she kicked the covers off her legs, blearily sitting up.

"'S only six, Lily," Alice groaned, hiding her face under her pillow. "Classes don't start for two and a half hours."

"I know," Lily yawned, standing up. "But if I don't start waking up early now, I'll never be able to." She stretched, and stumbled over to her dresser, pulling out a clean blouse and skirt of the middle drawer, fresh knickers and bra from the top drawer, and a pair of thick black woolen tights from the bottom. She folded them as neatly as possible, tucking them into her school bag along with her books, and slipped her bare feet into her shoes.

Clutching her bag, she left Gryffindor tower, making her way to the nearest Prefects' bathroom. Speaking the password ("Electric Eels"), Lily stepped into the chamber and shut the door behind her, giving it strict instructions not to let anyone in. Taking her clothes out of her bag and folding them neatly on the towel shelf, she turned the taps on, filling the tub with steaming water and mounds of fluffy bubbles. After a quick chat with the mermaid on the wall, Lily slid into the bath, sighing deeply. Bubble baths like this were one of Lily's secret vices, and she saved them for special occasions, not wanting to spoil herself. And what better occasion to spoil oneself than the beginning of a new term, a term for which she'd been elected Head Girl? There were, in fact, very few better occasions, Lily decided.

She allowed herself to soak for half an hour before climbing out of the tub and toweling herself dry and dressing in her uniform, pinning her Head Girl badge on perfectly straight and tying the red and gold tie with such precision that even Remus Lupin, tie perfectionist extraordinaire, would be sick with jealousy. She performed a quick drying charm on her hair and straightened her blouse once more before shouldering her bag and opening the door, running directly into one James Potter.

"Hello," he said, looking surprised. His hair was in an even more awful state than it usually was, ruffled and sticking up all over the place, and he looked as though he was still half-asleep. He was only wearing pajama trousers, and Lily found herself inexplicably blushing.

"Erm, sorry," she said, and there was an awkward moment of trying to step around each other in the same directions, before she finally stood aside and let James pass her. He turned for a moment, looking at her, and looked as though he were about to say something, but she turned and set off down the hall briskly.

"See you at breakfast, then!" James called after her, and by the time she had turned to remind him that they were not friends, they never had been, and she did not like him, he had vanished inside the bathroom and the door was swinging shut behind him. She made a frustrated noise, and turned on her heel, making her way down the hall to the staircases that lead to the Great Hall.

XXXXX

"Pass the scones?"

Remus glanced up from the book he'd brought to the table and smiled into the bright green eyes of the girl who had just sat down across from him at the table. He obliged, handing the basket over, and Lily let out a happy sigh, picking a blueberry-flavored one and setting it on her plate. She forked several sausages onto her plate, and began cutting them into slices, neatly and methodically. Once they were perfectly sized, she picked the scone off her plate, taking a bite and closing her eyes, making little sighs of contentment.

"There is nothing better than blueberry scones," she said, taking another bite. "I can't imagine anything better in the entire universe."

"They're quite good, I suppose," Remus said, polishing off his last sausage. "Though I much prefer sausages, I think."

"Scones are heaven on Earth," Lily said firmly, setting hers down on her plate. She glanced across the table towards the boys, and raised her eyebrows. "I think Black is asleep in his porridge," she remarked conversationally, nodding her head towards Sirius, who was facedown in his bowl. "He might drown."

"Oh dear," Remus sighed, grabbing a fistful of hair at the back of Sirius' head and hauled him out of his bowl, saving him from near-certain porridge-induced doom. "Padfoot, wake up," Remus said, jostling the boy. "Pads…"

"Wha?" Sirius said, his eyes snapping open. Porridge dripped down into his eyes, and he shrieked, rubbing at his face. "I'm blind! Moony, Moony I'm blind! Moony, help!"

Remus sighed, and took a napkin, grabbing Sirius' chin in his hand. "Stop moving, Pads," he commanded, and Sirius instantly did so, standing stock still. Remus wiped the majority of porridge off his face, and Sirius opened his eyes, beaming at Remus.

"You've saved me!"

Remus smiled despite himself, and, realizing he was still holding Sirius' face, let go, and returned to his toast.

"I suppose you're responsible for him forever, now, since you've saved him." Lily said cheerfully, buttering another scone.

"What?" Remus said, looking alarmed and somewhat pink in the face. "No, that's not right. I didn't save anyone, in fact I—"

"My hero!" Sirius shrieked in a falsetto, draping himself across his friend and dragging his sleeve through the jam on Remus' plate. Lily giggled and Remus sighed, looking utterly defeated.

"I hate you," he informed Sirius, disentangling the other boy's arms from his neck and looking forlornly at his plate. "You've put your elbow in my breakfast, Padfoot. My poor toast will never be the same."

"Bugger the toast," Sirius said. "You mean to tell me your toast means more to you than my undying love and gratitude?"

"At the moment? Yes, actually. I'm starved." Remus picked up the one piece that had managed to avoid being mangled by the tornado that was Sirius Black, and put it to his lips, opening wide for a nice, satisfying crunch. The crunch, however, was not to be. Sirius grabbed the toast and hurled it down the table, glaring at Remus.

"Bugger the toast!" Sirius shouted, standing up and storming out of the Great Hall.

Remus and Lily gaped, watching him go. Remus was still poised as if to partake of his toast, with one hand lifted to his mouth and his jaws open and ready to bite down.

"What on Earth?" Lily looked as confused as Remus felt, but somehow that was little comfort to him.

"I haven't the faintest," Remus said weakly, closing his mouth and last and dropping his arm. "He's always a bit mad in the mornings."

"What's going on?" James climbed over the bench, settling himself at the table next to Lily (who looked pointedly annoyed and scooted over several inches) and reached over her plate for the scones, taking the last blueberry scone. "Pads nearly knocked me over on his way out of the hall, and he was muttering about toast. It's a bit early in the morning for drugs, isn't it?"

"He's, ah—" Remus said, searching for words. "He's a bit moody, I'd say."

"Odd." James raised his eyebrows, shoving half the scone into his mouth and swallowing, causing Lily to give a little whimper of sympathy for the pastry. "He was acting a bit off yesterday as well, though, wasn't he?"

Remus nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose he's upset that we're back at school. I expect he misses the freedom of Casa de Padfoot."

Lily snorted. "Please, tell me he doesn't actually call it that."

"It's much worse when he actually says it," James said, demolishing several links of sausage at once. "He uses this dreadful French accent, and it doesn't matter how many times Moony tries to tell him casa is not a French word, he continues."

"Eurgh," Lily said, making a face that Remus suspected had less to do with Casa de Padfoot than with the alarming rate at which James was shoveling food into his mouth. She edged down the bench a little further, as if trying to gauge just how far away she could scoot before James noticed.

"Morning, mates," Pete forced through a yawn, sliding into the now-vacant seat next to Remus. "What's gotten Padfoot's knickers in a twist? I was counting on a good 'nother hour of sleep before breakfast, but he stormed into the dormitory like a mad hippogriff stampede and was flinging things to and fro all over the dormitory."

"Not quite sure," James said, "but as far as we can tell, it's to do with toast and Casa de Padfoot."

"I miss the casa," Peter said wistfully, staring into his porridge. "I even miss the roaches."

"Ah," said James, "but you can't leave out your little rat friends." He gave Peter and Remus a knowing look, which Lily pointedly ignored as another one of their ridiculous inside jokes, and Peter giggled.

Lily rolled her eyes and stood up, sliding off the bench and shouldering her bag. "Right, I'm off. Potter, don't forget, we've got rounds this evening at nine."

"Oh, right, yes!" James said, looking nervous. "Of course I haven't—I mean, won't forget. Erm, shall we meet near the statue of Winifred the Wailing?"

"Nine o'clock," Lily confirmed. "If you're late, I will hex you until you turn inside out. Understood?"

"Understood," James gulped, tugging at his (badly-knotted) tie.

"Excellent. Bye Pete, bye Remus." She waved jovially, and walked briskly out of the Great Hall, bookbag swinging behind her.

"I am going to die," James said, following Lily out of the hall with his eyes. "She is going to kill me."

"Don't worry," Peter said, reaching across the table to pat James on the shoulder. "I'm sure it'll be a lovely funeral."