It was the morning of February twenty-ninth, and that night was to be a full moon. It was four-thirty in the morning, and Remus Lupin could not sleep any longer.

When he stepped out of bed, silently suffering from chills and a headache and sore bones, James and Sirius were already awake. "Oh, hey, Remus. Full moon tonight," James said casually. Remus' heart skipped a beat. Or two. Or three. He tried to control his emotions.

"My mum's not a werewolf," he said.

James shrugged. "Until you give us a better explanation, I'm not buying it. You look ill today, too. Being half-werewolf would explain that, wouldn't it?"

Remus panicked. Yes, he did look ill. Yes, it was because of the moon. And yes, he was half-werewolf... and his other half was a werewolf, too! "I'm not half-werewolf! That's not a thing!" he argued.

"He looks a little wolfish, don't you think?" James asked Sirius, and Remus' eyes grew wide.

"I don't!"

"He does," said Sirius thoughtfully. "He's like a tiny, fragile, half-werewolf."

"I'm not fragile!" Remus' heart was beating so fast that he thought it might jump out of his chest. "And my mum is not a werewolf!"

"Relax, mate," said James. "We're joking."

"Yeah, you look nothing like a werewolf," said Sirius. "They're all great and big and scary. Your mum doesn't look like one, either."

"They're not great and scary. They look like anyone else," said James. "That's why they're so scary. They could be... anywhere. Or anyone." He waggled his fingers at Sirius, who glowered at him.

"Nah, photos of Greyback don't look like anyone else," said Sirius. "He looks like... what does he look like? I dunno. But not Remus' mum."

"Whadd'ya wanna bet one of the Slytherins is a werewolf?" said James, grinning. "They're all great and big and scary. And ugly."

"Don't remind me!"

"Today's your detention, isn't it?" said Remus, seizing the chance to change the topic. "The one that Professor Questus gave you. You're spending the day with the Slytherins."

"Yeah," Sirius moaned. "They're gonna beat me up."

Remus, who felt like he'd been beaten up himself, tried to ignore the pounding of his head. He couldn't show weakness now. Sirius and James were rambling about how awful the detention was going to be, but he didn't hear a word. "Er, I'm going to..."

"Visit your mum?" said James eagerly.

"No. Erm." Remus couldn't use that excuse anymore. "I'm just going to the library. You two are loud."

"Point taken," laughed Sirius. "If the Slytherins beat me up and I die, will you give a eulogy—?" James mashed his hand over Sirius' mouth. "Mmph! Wha' waph thaf for?"

"Remus doesn't like to talk about us dying," said James sternly. "Remember? The Whomping Willow?"

"Arfph phew mkidding?" Sirius shoved James away. "Remus has a super morbid sense of humor. I dunno what was up with you, Remus, by the Whomping Willow, but usually you like to joke about that sort of thing."

"The Whomping Willow wasn't a joke," said Remus, trying to hear amongst the pounding headache. "That was real. You could have died. But..." He grinned, ignoring the headache more viciously. "On second thought, I shouldn't have stopped you. It's so nice and quiet when you're gone."

"There you are!" said Sirius. "That's Remus. You've been so weird, mate. For days."

"Thanks," said Remus. "I pride myself on it." He wondered how much worse it would be to stay in his dormitory rather than the Hospital Wing. He decided to chance it. "I'm going back to sleep, actually. Guess you aren't that loud after all."

James laughed. "Come on, play Exploding Snap with us or something."

"Not a chance. I'm not that desperate." Remus burrowed back under the covers, ignoring the fact that he was suddenly hot. A fever—he got those a lot on full moon days. He didn't plan on sleeping, but listening to James and Sirius made him feel relaxed, in a weird way. He'd go down to the Hospital Wing while they were at breakfast—yes, that would be less suspicious.

Probably.

Night came.

Pain.

Anger.

Teeth.

Fur.

Blood.

Morning.

"Morning, Madam Pomfrey. Lovely day."

"Keep your mouth shut or I will shut it for you, Mr. Lupin. Professor Questus tells me that you've been under some stress over the past few weeks."

Past few weeks. That was an odd thought. The last full moon was only a handful of weeks ago. And the next one was only a handful of weeks away... Remus banished those thoughts from his mind. A month. He had a whole month. Not a couple of weeks.

Were they the same thing? Yes, they were. But one sounded so much better than the other.

"Did you fall off of the stairs last night?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "You shattered your leg completely."

"The right one?" Remus mumbled. Indeed, it was at an odd angle. Why was it always the right one? "Yeah, I think I did." In a moment of boldness, he added, "It's kind of hard to climb stairs with four legs."

Madam Pomfrey snorted. "Ferula. There. I'll repair it back at the castle. Walking back, I'm afraid, is out of the question."

"No!" protested Remus, and his voice more panicked than he would have liked. "I'll be fine. I can walk. I walked before, when my leg was injured. Remember?"

"I do remember. I also seem to remember that you were in tears by the time we arrived at the castle..."

"I'm in tears now! It's just... from the transformation. The pressure. I always get tears in my eyes, even when I don't cry."

"Yeah, right. Not ten minutes after the transformation, you don't." Madam Pomfrey rubbed a bit of silver and Dittany on a particularly nasty scratch on Remus' arm. "You're not walking, Remus."

Remus pushed her away and stood up jerkily. "I can walk. See?"

"Sit down right this instant!"

"No. I need to walk!"

"Why? You know what, just... just stop talking. You can walk. I'm not promising next month, but you can walk this month if not-walking is going to put you in such a state." She slung her arm around Remus' shoulders, being careful to avoid Remus' left one. Remus was thankful for that. "Don't put too much pressure on that leg, you hear me? And stop being so stubborn. If you need to stop, let me know. Okay?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

They got about halfway to the castle before the post-transformation numbness started to wear off. Fiddlesticks, now Remus was crying.

"I won't say I told you so," said Madam Pomfrey crossly. "Do you need to stop?"

"No," Remus managed.

"Fine." Her tone was stern, but her fingers shook slightly on Remus' shoulder. He cringed at the obvious pity. And also the horrible pain. That was a problem, too—debatably much more of a problem.

They got back to the Hospital Wing, and Remus drank the Pain-Relieving Potion eagerly. He sighed with relief as the pain was dulled considerably. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"I'm just doing my job," said Madam Pomfrey, bandaging his arm. "Now. Tell me why you need to walk. Perhaps we can come up with a solution that doesn't involve hurting yourself even further."

Remus wasn't actually sure how to answer that, mostly because he didn't know the answer himself. Well, he did, but it kept changing depending on his mood. "Don't want to do this right now, Madam Pomfrey," he murmured.

"Out of the question. Go on."

Remus sighed. "I need control. I hate not having control. Especially after that."

"There's got to be more than that," said Madam Pomfrey.

"Walking is... a human thing," Remus said slowly, trying to figure out how to phrase it. "On two legs, you know. It sort of... reminds me... that I'm not, anymore. When I can't do something human right after the transformation, when I'm treated all day like some sort of... I don't know... it's weird, that's all. I need to situate myself in this... form, and walking helps."

"Hm. And do you walk directly after a transformation at home?"

"Er... no." Remus' parents would probably have a heart attack if he did that. His father always carried him around.

"That's what I thought. Why would Hogwarts be any different?"

Remus couldn't really come up with an answer to that. Truth be told, being levitated around on a stretcher was sort of embarrassing. He just didn't like it, that was all. But he knew that wasn't enough for Madam Pomfrey, so he played the trump card. "It's hard to explain," he said. "I don't know how you could possibly understand when you're not a werewolf."

Sure enough, Madam Pomfrey couldn't argue with that. "You're going to hurt yourself," she sighed.

"More than I already do? I highly doubt that." He regretted the comment as soon as it left his lips. "I only have about six... well, five more years before I'm an adult. Then I'm on my own and I have to walk places."

"I sincerely hope that you won't be on your own," said Madam Pomfrey, and Remus shrugged. She met his eyes, and something in her face melted slightly—then her harsh expression returned, and she pressed her wand to his hand. "This might hurt a bit," she said. Remus clenched his teeth and grasped the covers with his right hand as the skin on his left palm knitted back together. "That wound wasn't cursed," commented Madam Pomfrey.

"I think I stepped on a loose nail." It was so degrading, admitting that he walked on his hands during a full moon. Technically, they were his forepaws, but still. That was even more degrading.

"I'll ask Professor Dumbledore to check for that when he's fixing up the furniture tonight. You need to go to sleep now. Would you like a Draught?"

"No, Madam Pomfrey, I can fall asleep on my own." Indeed, Remus was feeling very sleepy. The pillow felt like a saving grace under his neck. "Thank you so much."

The last thing that Remus heard before he was out like a light was Madam Pomfrey's insistence that she was "just doing her job".

Remus woke up that afternoon and read a book, and Madam Pomfrey came by with soup and a sandwich. "You're very thin," she scolded, "and don't think I haven't noticed that you skip meals on occasion."

"I don't skip meals that often!"

"For someone with your weight, you can't even afford to skip one meal. Is there a reason that you skip them? Are you not feeling well mid-month?"

"No. I just get caught up doing something else, that's all. I don't ever notice I'm hungry until I'm eating. I think it comes with the pain threshold."

"I see," said Madam Pomfrey, frowning. "Well, you're not going back to sleep until you've finished your lunch."

"Technically breakfast," Remus said, but he took a bite of sandwich obediently. "Did anything interesting happen this month?"

Madam Pomfrey smiled and fluffed his pillows slightly. "Oh, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. I actually had a werewolf in this morning."

Remus grinned and played along. "No way. I didn't think that werewolves existed. What was it like?"

"He was kind of a brat, if I'm being honest," said Madam Pomfrey, and Remus feigned insult. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"I guarantee that the people I have to deal with are a lot worse. Do you know someone called me a brat today?"

"How rude of her," said Madam Pomfrey, smiling. "Or him."

"The trials I must undergo," Remus sighed. "I was so upset last night that I fell off the stairs. And stepped on a nail. What a day."

"What a day, indeed." Madam Pomfrey nodded somberly. "I have a letter from your mother. And Professor Questus stopped by last night."

"Last night? Surely he didn't think I'd still be in the Hospital Wing."

"He wanted to talk to me, not you."

"You mean... Professor Questus voluntarily talked to you? You? Is the world ending?"

"My thoughts exactly. And we didn't even bicker... much."

"What did he say?"

"He tried to pretend he wasn't worried, mostly."

Remus snickered. "I seriously doubt he was worried."

"Believe it or not, he was very concerned yesterday about your mental state. He said that this month was particularly stressful for you, and he heard Dumbledore's theory that stress brings about more difficult transformations..."

"Professor Dumbledore gave me a Pensieve. I think that helps with the stress as well as the nightmares."

"That's good. Your injuries are a little worse today than they were last time, but you should be out by Thursday afternoon. I'm giving you Skele-Gro tonight for that leg of yours."

"All right."

"Professor Questus mentioned that you were out in the cold a lot Saturday before last."

"Yes. I had a snowball fight." Remus could barely keep the glee out of his voice.

"That was dangerous for someone of your weight and health conditions," said Madam Pomfrey, but, since she was smiling, it seemed like she only felt obligated to say it as a formality. "But I'm glad you had fun. I wanted to talk to you about Wednesday—two weeks ago."

Remus' blood ran cold. "The sixteenth."

"Yes. Your mother mentioned..."

"Yeah."

"Do you need to spend the day here next year?"

"No. Next year the moon is on the seventeenth."

"It might be good for you, then."

"It's a whole year away. Besides, I was fine. I was only a little... pensive."

"You were forcing smiles left and right. I know you. It's normal, you know, to be... depressed on certain days..."

"I'm not depressed!"

"Patients with trauma often..."

If Remus heard that word one more time, he was going to scream. "I'm not depressed. It's just an anniversary of a big event and I think a lot. I'm okay."

Madam Pomfrey dropped a cap in the jar. "Good. Then five more minutes in the Hospital Wing can't hurt."

"Well, now I'm significantly less okay."

Professor Questus stopped by that afternoon. "I'm not feeling well enough for a lesson, Professor," Remus admitted. "I have a headache."

"I figured. Growing a new skull twice in one night seems like it would to do that to a person."

"...Right."

"I just wanted to check in on you. Everything's fine?"

"Perfectly. Just like it is on all the other full moons."

Questus grinned. "Except for the first one in December?"

"I would have been fine then, too," said Remus, who did not like being reminded of that particular full moon. It was unfair that Questus had that ammunition to hold over Remus' head.

"Hm," said Questus, who clearly didn't believe it. "Well, I'm glad you're okay."

There was an awkward silence.

"You're not worried about me, Professor, are you?" said Remus, praying that Questus would give him a blunt and unfeeling answer.

"I'm not worried. Worry is for senseless people like Pomfrey."

Remus breathed a sigh of relief.

"But I'm a little concerned. Stress makes it worse, doesn't it? And you've been under quite some stress, if I remember correctly."

Oh, no. Absolutely not. This was not okay.

"Professor, you aren't supposed to worry about me," said Remus emphatically. "I have plenty of people to worry about me. You're supposed to tell me that it's nothing and that I'm being dramatic and complaining too much."

Questus smiled a little. "Should I? I don't think you are, you know. Not in this case. Do you really want me to lie to you? We both know that's not my thing."

"Yes! I hate this! I hate having so many people worry about me, and tell me that I'm not allowed to do things because I'm 'not healthy' (whatever that means), and get more worked up about my health than even I am, which is ridiculous because it doesn't even affect them. James started too, you know. Told me that I'm too thin and that I shouldn't be skipping meals. Said that I should take the first shower instead of pushing everyone else out of the way like he usually does. The other day I found no less than three medical books under his bed. Seriously? James never reads for fun! For heaven's sake, I can take care of myself!"

Questus rolled his eyes. "Now you're being dramatic," he said. "You're being absolutely ridiculous... and I'm not even lying, I swear it."

"Thank you," said Remus shortly.

"It wasn't a compliment, Lupin. It's very ungrateful to be so angry that people care about you and want to make sure that you don't die. Skipping meals at your age and weight isn't healthy at all. When your reckless, eleven-year-old roommate is concerned for your health, you should listen, because something's got to be really wrong for James Potter or Sirius Black to notice."

Remus nodded slowly. That was a good point—Sirius and James had jumped off more staircases, taunted more Whomping Willows, and cast more dangerous hexes than anyone Remus had ever met. Caring about danger, for them, was a big deal indeed.

"You only have this for a couple more years," continued Questus. "The second you leave the walls of this castle, no one will be concerned about your health, I promise you. Well, they might be concerned that you're too healthy because they want you to die. But other than that. Merlin's beard. For someone who faces such prejudice every day, you shouldn't be this angry about the fact that some people care. You're being an idiot."

"Er, thank you, sir," said Remus. "I try." Then he paused. "I'm tired. Of this. I hate it."

"I know."

Remus waited, but Questus didn't say anything else. "That's all you're going to say?"

"What else did you want me to say? You already know that you don't have a choice."

"Okay." Remus sighed. "I get it. I understand. I s'pose that I should probably... listen to Madam Pomfrey more or something."

"Or something," agreed Questus. "It's not as if she's a professional Healer or anything."

"It's just... hard. It's hard to be a normal, happy kid when everyone's telling me that I'm doing things wrong."

"The purpose of life is not to be happy," said Questus, and he said it so quietly that Remus wouldn't have caught it without his werewolf hearing.

"What's that?"

"The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to make some difference that you have lived and lived well."

Remus was a bit stunned. "That doesn't sound... that doesn't sound like you."

"It's not. Ralph Waldo Emerson. I'm not his biggest fan; he's a little too flowery for my taste. But I knew someone once who quoted him all the time—it was right annoying, actually—and you seem like the type of person to appreciate it."

"Emerson? I know him! He wrote... "The Humble-Bee", was it? Burly, dozing humble-bee, where thou art I clime to be. Zig-zag steerer, desert-cheerer, let me chase thy waving lines. Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, singing over shrubs and vines... that's all I know. I just remember it being a very dramatic poem about a bee."

Questus had an queer look on his face, and Remus wasn't sure whether he was happy or sad. Probably just weirdly amused. "I've heard that one before. Wiser far than human seer, yellow-breached philosopher..." Remus' eyes lit up and he tried to remember more, but he couldn't. Before he could say anything else, Questus brushed off his robes and turned to go. "Those words don't really rhyme, do they? Anyway. I'll come back tomorrow for the lesson when you're feeling better. Your friends are still alive, by the way. The Slytherins haven't murdered them. Yet."

"Wait! Er, you don't feel sorry for me? You don't worry about me?" Remus couldn't bear it if Professor Questus pitied him. He just couldn't.

Questus grinned faintly. "You can take care of yourself, Lupin. But if you're about to die, I do want to come say hello first."

"There'll probably be a line. I think a lot of people want to see me die," said Remus, regretting the comment as soon as it left his mouth. But Questus didn't panic and reprimand him like Madam Pomfrey would have; he just laughed—genuinely laughed.

"You're probably right. See you tomorrow. If you don't die, that is."

Remus went to bed early that night.

There was a slight breeze coming through the crack in the window, and he slept like a baby.

He heard something coming from outside, but he figured it was only a branch.

Then a scratching on his window and snuffling noises.

He opened his eyes blearily and rolled over to face the window to his right. It was probably just a cat, he reflected. He closed his eyes again and drifted off to sleep.

Then a crashing noise, a searing pain, and a shouted incantation from his father...

He woke up.

"Remus! Are you all right?"

Remus lifted his hand to touch his face, which was coated with sweat. "I... think," he gasped. "Nightmare. But it wasn't so bad this time." He was in terrible pain. If it was only a dream, then why did it hurt so much? Oh, right. He was actually injured for real. "Full moon was last night, yeah?"

"Yes."

Yes, that was why it hurt so much. The Pain-Relieving Potion must have worn off. It was just getting worse... and he was wide-awake now; he wasn't in the bleary half-asleep state that he usually was when he woke up in the middle of the night. He leaned back and shut his eyes tightly. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a cap being dropped in a jar. "No apologizing," said Madam Pomfrey. Then Remus felt a washcloth being pressed to his forehead, just as Madam Pomfrey did every night after the full moon. "Do you think you can fall back asleep?"

"Yeah."

And he did, but only after mentally reciting "The Walrus and the Carpenter" exactly nine and a half times.

AN: Shout-out to SmartHermy7, who did a read-aloud of the prologue to my fic and posted it to YouTube! Not sure how links work on FFN, but if you'd like to hear it, you can just copy/paste "Of Marauders and Monsters Prologue April of 1965 By: Pellucidity (Read Aloud)" into your browser and you should find it as one of the top results. It sounds great :)