Y1: When in Doubt, Cry

"You didn't have to do that," Peter mumbled. "You should go. Really."

"Do I look like the kind of person who wants to go to a stuffy dinner party with manners and forks and small talk?" Remus scoffed, proffering his rumpled pea-green sweater that was much too big for his small frame. It didn't look formal at all, and besides, Remus simply didn't possess James' and Sirius' aristocratic posture and Pureblood manners. "Do you really think I'm the type of person to own dress robes and sit quietly?"

"Yes. You love manners. You seem like just the type."

"Well, I'm not. I'd much rather have a quiet night in with you. Plus, the only reason Slughorn wants me there is..." I'm a werewolf. "My dad. He was pretty famous for a bit; got rid of the Screaming Bogey of Strathtully. It's nothing that I did."

"Hm." Peter wrung his hands and sighed. "You want to go. I know you do."

Remus thought about that. Peter was often very good at guessing other people's emotions. The truth was, Remus did want to spend some time with Sirius and James and to see what kind of antics they'd get up to. He didn't want Slughorn to confront him afterwards and ask him why he didn't go. He thought that networking might actually be helpful and beneficial for his future. He wanted to see what kind of food they had, and maybe prove to Slughorn that he was more than his lycanthropy... But he did not want to be... collected like some sort of specimen. He did not want to be stared at. He did not want more attention than he already received. And he definitely didn't want Slughorn to stumble over excuses for inviting him, or worse, to accidentally disclose his secret to the rest of the Slug Club.

"I do want to see what James and Sirius get up to," he said slowly, "but I expect they'll tell us all about it later, won't they? Truthfully, Peter, I don't like attention. And this Slug Club is just Slughorn's way of getting on the good side of people who have famous families, a showy sort of talent, or might be popular. I'm not interested in networking. I'd probably mess it up. And I'm not keen on being known for... something my father did. I want to make my own legacy, you know? Perhaps stay under the radar and not make a legacy at all."

"Everyone wants to make a legacy!"

"I don't. I just want... to get through Hogwarts, really." That wasn't likely to happen, Remus knew. "I want to get an education. Make friends. Make memories. I don't know what I'll do after, but I only want a good life." Like that was going to happen. "That's all I can do, really. I don't want to go. Do you believe me?"

Peter studied Remus' face, and Remus was afraid for a second that he was reading his mind. Peter scared him sometimes. "Yeah, I s'pose."

"Great. While we're here... I meant it, about helping you study. If you want."

"Oh, would you? Please do! I don't understand Reparo at all!"

"You cast it the first time really quickly! Before I did, remember?"

"McGonagall helped me, though. And I can't get it the second time for the life of me. Please help!"

Remus ripped a piece of parchment in two. "Show me what you can do."

Sure enough, Peter could not cast it again. Remus stood by and encouraged him as best he could, but all of Peter's efforts proved futile. "Try... twirling your wand a little more." Peter did, but nothing happened. "Envision the parchment being repaired." Nothing. "Think of it as if it's the easiest thing in the world." Nothing.

"How did you do it?" Peter cried, obviously frustrated.

"I... uh... I like to learn about the theory. How it was invented, how it works, the etymology, all that. It helps me look at it from a more logical perspective. It helps me step back and stop overthinking it... like, it's not my own abilities that are casting the spell... it's a tried and tested formula that should work no matter what. It takes a while to build up the confidence, but I can cast it pretty reliably eventually. Do you know who invented it?"

"No! Of course I don't!" Peter was getting more agitated by the second.

"Okay. Let's study that first. And Peter: calm down. It's all right. I told you, I'm not very clever myself. All the memorization came from years trapped inside... because of my mother. I was studying because there was nothing else to do. I don't think any less of you; knowing a bit less than me only means that you had a much more fun life."

"I hate your mother," Peter scowled.

"Peter!" Remus scolded. Even though Remus' mother wasn't really ill, Remus felt terrifically taken aback by Peter's declaration. For some reason, it felt as if Peter had insulted Remus' own mother, not some made-up fantasy of a sickly figure with no werewolf son.

"I can't imagine being stuck inside all the time. Why did she need you around? You're only a kid! You can't save her."

Remus wondered if he could force tears. That statement seemed like just the sort of thing that a normal kid would cry at. He imagined his mother dying. Nothing. That woman was healthier than he was. He imagined Fenrir Greyback. He imagined full moon after full moon. He imagined being homeless and alone, Peter finding out his secret and hating him, having to leave Hogwarts, escaping the basement and killing his family...

"Oh no, Remus! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you cry! I was out of line; I'm sorry. I just... your life sounds awful. It's not fair of your mother to make you stay home with her. Just because her life is on the line doesn't mean she needs to take yours away."

Remus hadn't realized that he was crying. Crying was easier than he thought. He hadn't let himself cry in a very long time; not unless it was a full moon. He held his hand up to his face and wiped away the tears, leaving the sleeve of his jumper damp. "She doesn't force me, Pete. I want to. It's hard. You couldn't really understand unless you're actually in the situation. She encouraged me to leave the house, but I... I just couldn't. I know it's irrational. But it wasn't all bad; I like to read." Remus' voice was shaky, and he was nearly hyperventilating from suppressed sobs. He was certain that the story sounded very realistic and mentally patted himself on the back. "Let's... get back to Reparo, shall we?"

Peter nodded, and Remus wiped his eyes again. The horrid images that he had forced himself to imagine still filled his head: he supposed that he had gone too far. "How come I always have deep and meaningful conversation with you?" he said in mock annoyance.

"I'm just easy to talk to," said Peter proudly.

"That you are," Remus agreed. "It's one of your many talents. Hey—why don't you try casting the spell one more time? On my jumper. I wore a hole in the sleeve."

"Are you sure? I might accidentally turn you into a pumpkin."

Remus laughed. "I think I'd make a very good pumpkin."

Peter squinched his eyebrows shut in determination and then pointed his wand at Remus' sleeve. "Reparo!" he said forcefully. Remus tried very hard not to flinch.

It wasn't instantaneous; in fact, Remus' jumper seemed sort of reluctant to fix itself... but the yarn, nonetheless, knitted itself together. Peter's mouth dropped open. "I did it!"

"Of course you did! I knew you could! I bet you can do the parchment, now that you've done it a second time. Third time's a charm, I promise."

Peter smiled at the pun and repaired the parchment effortlessly. "Thank you, Remus!"

"Not so fast, though I'm very proud of you. We've still got to study the history. McGonagall talked about it in class and I'm sure it'll be on the test."

Peter groaned. "You sound like my mother."

"Shall I pinch your cheeks and make you pie and call you snookums?"

"My mother doesn't do any of that."

"If you say so, Snookums. The charm was invented by Orabella Nuttley, who was an employee of the Improper Use of Magic Office in the Ministry of Magic..."

Remus tried his best to make the review session interesting. He did different voices for the different characters—Peter thought that his feminine voice for Orabella was extremely amusing. He acted some of the parts out. He drew pictures. He had Peter repeat the important information. When it was all said and done, Remus' and Peter's faces were flushed from laughter and Peter now knew everything there was to know about Reparo.

"Now that you know more than James and Sirius, the charm should be a piece of cake. Try again."

"Reparo." The parchment mended itself, and Peter grinned. "I think I've got it!"

"I'll say!" said Remus, who was grinning just as much as Peter was. "For future reference, Papyrus Reparo works better with parchment. Using a simple Reparo works fine, but it'll tear more easily in the future."

"Sure thing, Professor Lupin."

Remus shuddered. "Never call me that again, Snookums."

"Really, Remus! You could be a teacher someday! I've never understood a spell more in my entire life!"

Remus almost laughed. A werewolf professor? That was never going to happen. "Yeah, no. I don't fancy working with people. I'd rather have a boring, lonely office job."

Just then, James burst into the room. Remus noted that he smelt of ice cream. "Slughorn is not inviting Sirius back," he said breathlessly. "Probably not me either."

"Can't say I'm surprised," quipped Remus. "How many detentions did he earn?"

"None, but he lost fifteen points for Gryffindor. You should have come, Remus; it was so much fun. What did you do in here? You look like you've been crying."

"Crying? Psh, no. No crying here." Remus gave a Peter a look, and Peter almost collapsed from the excitement and hilarity of a shared secret. "We laughed so hard we cried, though."

"Why?"

"Studying spells is fun. You should try it sometime."

James gave them an odd look. "I sincerely doubt that. Anyway..."

Sirius skidded down the corridor and slammed into James. "Let me tell it!" he shrieked.

The rest of the evening was spent with a dramatic reenactment of the ice cream that Sirius had Levitated under the table and onto Amanda Fitz's white dress, the spoon he had dropped down the back of Snape's robes, his creative insults directed towards the Slytherins, and the interesting shades of red that Slughorn's face had turned.

Remus could barely breathe from laughing so hard all evening.

And better yet, no one questioned it when he changed in the lavatory, even though he was the only one still doing so. Good thing, too. He didn't very much want to force himself to cry a second time, although it scared people off remarkably well.

Sunday passed in a blur of books and visits to the Hogwarts library, which really was as magnificent as Madam Pomfrey had described. Remus never wanted to leave (he was lured out only by the prospects of food). Madam Pince did not like him very much, and Remus could tell that she knew about his condition as soon as he entered the library... but didn't say anything to him outright. She stayed out of his way as long as he kept to himself.

Potions on Monday was a true ordeal. The sounds and smells were very overwhelming, Remus had a bit of a headache, and Slughorn's stares were deafening. They were brewing an Antidote to Common Poisons, and the smell of mistletoe berries filled Remus' nose to the point that concentrating was very difficult. There was, however, no wolfsbane whatsoever. Every so often, Remus heard Snape make a wry joke and Lily laugh. He tried to join in, but every time he asked Lily what was so funny she would only wave her hand dismissively and giggle.

Peter was difficult to work with, seeing as he never read the instructions. At one point, he forgot to add the Standard Ingredient before simmering the potion—they had to start over, and it earned them a disappointed look from Slughorn. Remus, who had a headache from the sensory overload and was feeling tetchy and wolfish, decided to pretend that he could not find another bezoar and stayed in the potions storeroom for an extra four and a half minutes to calm down.

Breathe in through the nose. Breathe out from the mouth... He caught Snape's scent and immediately stopped breathing entirely.

"You've been in there for a long time, Lupin. What are you doing? Talking to the potions ingredients or something? Lily and I have already finished the first part of our potion."

Remus wondered why his head felt so light, and then remembered that he was a living creature that needed oxygen. He took a breath. "Then why are you in here?"

Snape seemed to consider. "The truth? Well, Potter and Black have been making me miserable and I feel like making you miserable to settle the score."

"At least you're honest." Don't get angry, Remus told himself. You can control yourself. You're a person right now, not an animal.

"So I assume you've made a mess of the potion?"

Peter did, not me, Remus thought, but he would never say that out loud. "It was an honest mistake," he allowed.

"So it was Peter, then?" sneered Snape. "I'm not surprised. The boy is so dense that if we dropped him in the lake, he'd sink to the bottom."

"Get out."

"Excuse me?"

"Get out. I don't want to talk to you."

"Ah, so now you know how it feels. Will you stop following Lily around now? I'm sure she doesn't want to talk to you, and I certainly don't. Or maybe leave Potter, Black, and Pettigrew alone? They don't want to talk to you. You might as well just go home, except I'm sure your parents don't want to talk to you either..."

The bubble of anger in Remus stomach popped, and he retorted: "I wouldn't be surprised if your parents don't like you, Snape."

Snape recoiled, and Remus figured that he had struck a nerve. Snape actually looked... genuinely distressed. Remus' anger dissipated immediately, and he felt an urge to apologize—but he didn't. After all, Snape had struck a nerve too, hadn't he?

Remus listened to Snape's breathing, which was getting more labored and angry. Suddenly, Snape took a sharp breath in as if he were about to speak, and Remus noticed that he had his wand out—he was about to jinx him, or hex him, or curse him—"Langlock," Snape whispered, and Remus ducked instinctively. The spell flew over his head and collided with the wolfsbane on the top shelf, breaking the jar—the wolfsbane fell to the ground directly next to Remus—the smell filled Remus' nostrils and he started choking—his chest felt tight, he could hardly breathe, his head was going to explode, he was sure of it... He rushed out of the Potions Storeroom, knocking into Snape on his way out.

Slughorn looked at him inquisitively, but Remus didn't stop there. He walked out of the room and straight down the corridor until his head was clear. Snape knew. He was going to find out. He was going to tell the whole school, they were going to force Remus out, they were going to tell the whole world and Remus was never going to get a job or have a life. He moaned and sat down on a bench next to a window. His chest loosened, little by little, but anxiety kept it from loosening all the way.

It might have been five, ten, or even twenty minutes before Remus sensed Slughorn coming closer. He raised his head blearily to meet his staring eyes. "Are you all right?" Slughorn asked, and Remus nodded.

"Yes... I'm sorry, sir."

"No problem, no problem at all! Mr. Snape told me that you knocked into a cupboard and broke a jar. No harm done, of course."

"It was... aconite..."

"Wolfsbane. I know. You are all right, are you?" Slughorn bounced on the balls of his feet expectantly; it looked rather ridiculous.

"Fine. But I can't go back in, and Snape knows..."

"Snape knows nothing. I told him that you accidentally swallowed some. Seeing as wolfsbane is poisonous to all of us, it should be believable. I've cleaned it up. Peter finished the first part of your potion, and if you hurry, you should be able to get it done before class ends."

"...Thank you, sir."

"Are you quite sure you're all right? What are the effects, exactly?"

"Just felt ill. But I'm fine now."

"No, I mean... exactly. Headache? Nausea?"

"Yes, but I really don't want to talk about it. Thank you again, Professor."

"Not at all, not at all! Now, why don't you tell me why you didn't come to the Slug Club while we walk back? Your friend Sirius caused quite the stir. Shame you missed it."

Remus had been afraid of this. "I don't really want to be in it, sir."

"Whyever not?"

"I'm already missing some school every month. I... want the extra time to... do schoolwork... and relax." It was not the truth, but it was not a lie, either.

"See, this is exactly why I want you in it! You're destined to do great things, my boy!"

"I don't want to be in a special club, sir. I don't want to do great things. I just want to be as normal as possible." Remus had a sudden burst of inspiration. "But... could you give Peter my spot, perhaps? He's a lot more talented than he looks."

"Peter? Pettigrew?" Slughorn's mouth once again looked like that of a goldfish. "I'm... sorry, this is quite the... exclusive club. I have a sense when it come to these things, you see, and with Mr. Pettigrew... well, my sense just isn't... sensing."

"With all due respect, sir, Peter is full of surprises. Give him a chance. He could do something marvelous."

Slughorn seemed to be thinking. "I'll think about it. The werewolf knows best, eh?"

Remus flinched. "I suppose."

They arrived back in the Potions classroom, and Remus was very careful not to look at Snape. Peter was properly ashamed for messing up the potion earlier, Remus could feel James' eyes on the back of his head, and Slughorn wouldn't stop staring. Overall, it was a very unpleasant class—the only bright side being that Peter's and Remus' potion turned out passable.

"What happened in there?" James said. "The potions storeroom, I mean. Did Snivellus push you or something?"

Remus very much did not like Snape, so he decided to tell the truth. Well, most of it. "He used a spell. I ducked, and it broke a jar. The contents of the jar got in my mouth and I went to see Madam Pomfrey. I'm fine, though."

"He used a spell on you?"

"Yeah. Langlock. Sounds like it came from the Latin for "tongue" and the English for "lock"...? So I'm guessing it was to prevent me from speaking. I've never heard of that spell. I wonder why he didn't just use Silencio."

"That git!" said Sirius. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Remus looked at his face, which was sporting a grin of pure mischief. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. The Marauders' first prank is just on the horizon!"

AN: Once I cried in maths class, but I don't think anyone noticed. Algebra, man. It gets inside your head.