Full moon day.

It was raining.

Remus woke up early and went downstairs, his Gryffindor blanket wrapped around him and Bufo on his shoulder. He was sore all over, and it felt awful. This was going to be a terrible full moon—Remus would be transforming in a new place, which always seemed to agitate him. He wasn't looking forward to it, and the anxiety only added to the feelings of general terribleness.

Remus' mum was already downstairs, sipping some tea. She knew that the smell bothered Remus, so she dumped it into the sink when she heard him coming. "How are you feeling, dear?" she asked; the sound of her voice was strangely normal. Remus had had six full moons at Hogwarts—had it really been six already?—but he'd had more than eighty here. And it was always like this—his mother's warm words of comfort and the early-morning conversations; Remus' father coming home early from work if he could; naps on the couch and Remus' parents reading him books when he wasn't feeling too nauseous to listen. Madam Pomfrey and her business-like Matron Voice made Remus feel like a student, but this was what Remus was used to. He liked both, he decided.

Well, he didn't like either. They were both pretty terrible. But that was besides the point.

Now Remus was half-asleep on the couch, listening to his mother talk—he didn't know what she was talking about, but it was something about a grocery store visit—and his head was on her shoulder and he was almost asleep again, even though everything was loud and his head hurt and his bones felt like they were going to splinter at any given moment.

It was good to be home.

Well, not good. But that was besides the point.

"The sun was shining on the sea, shining with all its might..." said Remus' mother, and Remus' eyes flew open immediately. "I'm sorry, Remus, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, s'fine. Well, it's not fine. That's my job! I narrate! You do the voices! That's what we always do when you recite 'The Walrus and the Carpenter'."

Remus' mum rolled her eyes. "Stubborn as ever, I see. If you're feeling well enough." Her voice was still gentle, despite the sarcasm, and Remus loved it that way.

"The sun was shining on the sea, shining with all its might, doing its very best to make the billows smooth and bright..." Suddenly, Remus realized something. "Dad's not here, is he? Where'd he go?"

"He's at work. He was called in late, and he hasn't been back yet."

"He's been there all night?"

"Since about eleven-thirty, yes. Chances are he'll get a good paycheck for coming in at such an odd hour, though."

"Tha's good," said Remus, nearly asleep again. "Maybe we can get you a new brown coat, since the one you wear now makes you look like a squirrel..."

"Don't you dare insult my favorite brown coat! You're just like your father."

"I'm okay with that. At least his brown coat looks nice..."

Remus and his mother went back and forth for a bit, poem forgotten, and Remus was almost asleep again when his father came back. But alas, then the door flew open—Remus' father was never one to open doors gently—and Remus found himself fully awake and squinting at his father, who was dripping wet and had a mug of coffee in his hand. "Lyall!" scolded Remus' mum. "He was almost asleep!"

"Sorry, Remus," said his father, but he didn't look it.

Remus wrinkled his nose. "Can you get rid of the coffee?"

"Of course." He dropped the entire mug outside and closed the door. "Remus, may I talk to Mum alone for a moment?"

"I doubt it. Are you planning on casting a Soundproofing Charm?"

"Yes."

Remus was completely awake now. His father never cast Soundproofing Charms in the house, not after what had happened to Remus when he was alone in his room at the tender age of four-and-eleven-months. "Dad, you can't do that! It's about me, isn't it? You know I'm going to stress all day if I don't know what it is! Is it the law again?"

"No." Remus' father rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's just... oh, I might as well tell you. Greyback threatened a family in a village somewhere in the West Midlands. Plans to attack tonight. I was... securing the area."

Remus nodded, trying to smile. "Good thing you have experience with securing werewolves, then."

The room went silent. Remus nearly hit himself. He wasn't supposed to joke about that, and months at Hogwarts had made him forget.

"I suppose," said his father stiffly.

"Tell me what happens in the morning?" said Remus, desperately trying to pretend he'd never made the joke in the first place.

"Of course."

More silence.

"How are you feeling?" asked Remus' father, and Remus' mother started stroking Remus' hair again.

"I'm all right."

Remus' mum got off the couch and walked to the kitchen, presumably to find Remus a hot water bottle for his joints. "You need to sleep, dear. Actually, both of you do. Go to bed, Lyall."

"But..."

"You were up all last night and I won't have you exhausted tomorrow."

"Hope!"

"No excuses, Lyall."

"It's past your bedtime, Dad," said Remus seriously, and his dad rolled his eyes dramatically before smiling and taking off his wet coat. "See you later, Remus. Don't give your mother any trouble, now."

Remus blinked innocently, ignoring the searing pain in his head. "Do I ever?" he said, and then he promptly leaned back and napped on the couch for three hours.

Remus was happy to be home.

Well, not exactly happy. But that was besides the point.

Now it was six-thirty, and Remus was wide-awake and trembling violently. He felt pretty awful. "I always forget how rough it is for you," said Remus' mother, and pity made her voice rise in pitch slightly. It hurt Remus' ears.

"I need to go to the cellar," Remus said. His voice was too raspy for his liking, but there was nothing he could do about that. "Now. Right now. I need to go."

"You can wait until seven, at least..."

"No, Mum, I need to go now."

Remus' mum looked at her husband helplessly. "Lyall, tell him that he doesn't have to go so early."

"If he wants to, he can," said Remus' father idly, and Remus smiled at him.

"I go earlier at school, and I want to go now. I'm used to it, that's all. I'll be okay."

Remus' mum patted his hand and gave him a sad look. "Okay, love, if you're sure. Lyall, if you could..."

"But of course," said Remus' dad, and, all at once, he lifted Remus into the air. Remus would hate this from anybody but his father.

"Careful you don't drop me," he murmured.

"Have I ever dropped you?"

"No, but there's a first time for everything." Remus' father chuckled and swung him around a bit—it was probably only a minuscule amount, but Remus' spinning head made it feel as if he was on a Muggle amusement park ride. Remus yelped, smiling in spite of himself, and he held on to his father's sleeve tightly. "Dad! I'm ill! Don't torture your sickly son!"

Now Remus' father was holding Remus a bit more securely, and he opened the door to the cellar. Remus had missed his parents, but he hadn't missed the pitch-black cellar with its thick walls and protective charms. The Shrieking Shack was so much better—it was bigger, less enclosed, and less isolating. Remus liked the Shrieking Shack.

Well, he didn't like it. He hated it with all his heart. But that was besides the point.

Remus' father's breath hitched, and Remus looked at him. His heart rate had been high for a while, Remus knew, but he could usually control his breathing around Remus. He'd been practicing ever since he'd learned of Remus' heightened senses, so he was normally pretty okay at controlling his breathing. "What is it?" asked Remus, knowing that something had to be horribly wrong for his father to forget that Remus could hear him so clearly.

"It's just hard," said his father (with a fake smile, of course). "I haven't seen you like this in a half a year."

"Trust me, it's harder for me than it is for you," said Remus, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

The comment sufficiently dissolved the tension, and Remus' father's smile became a teensy bit more genuine. "I know. Where do you want me to put you?"

"I'm not a rag doll. I can stand."

"Here, I'll just put you in the corner." He set Remus down, and Remus let him. He was too tired to care, honestly, and it was nice not having to keep up appearances and walk to the Shack. His parents had seen him at his worst, so they already knew. There was no being embarrassed around them, because his pride had been broken more than eighty times.

That was a grim thought. He should rephrase. There was no being embarrassed around them, because they were good parents and weren't judgmental in the least. Neither was Madam Pomfrey... but that was besides the point.

"You dropped me," said Remus tiredly, now sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall.

"I put you down."

"Which is just gentle, purposeful dropping."

Remus' father laughed and started on the protective charms. They hadn't been renewed in quite some time, and it always made Remus comfortable to know that they had just been cast. It seemed less dangerous, somehow, when they were fresh. He watched his father cast the spells for a moment in silence. "I missed you," Remus finally said.

"I missed you, too."

"S-school is fun, though." Remus was stuttering a bit now. He hated when the trembling got to the point that it so badly affected his voice. "Can you hurry?"

"We've still at least an hour."

"Yeah, b-but..."

"You don't feel a pre-moon episode coming on?"

"I n-never feel them c-coming, you know that."

"I don't mind, you know."

"It bothers you."

"Me being gone isn't going to stop it from happening. What bothers me isn't that I see it, what bothers me is that it happens."

Remus couldn't argue with that. It bothered him, too. "Please finish," he whispered.

"Of course."

Remus' father worked on the charms a little more. Light was coming through the cellar through the door, which was slightly ajar, and light was spilling in one straight line across the floor. Remus brought his knees to his chest and curled his arms around them.

Then he was suffocating... his heart was going to beat out of his chest and his head was exploding and his bones were twisting and lengthening and he was—transforming—or dying? He couldn't tell which—and he couldn't BREATHE—and his dad was still here. That was a problem.

And then he was lying on the floor, his hair slick with sweat and his limbs still quivering. It was fine. Nothing had happened. "Are you almost done?" he croaked. He hadn't had a pre-moon episode like that in a while—at school, they'd been mild, few, and far between—but the stress of the moment was getting to him.

Remus' father looked stricken, but plastered on yet another fake smile. "Nearly there."

Remus nodded, pulled himself to a sitting position, and wiped the sweat off of his face. He was so cold. Why was he so cold?

He waited.

"All right, that should be the last of it." Remus' father turned to face Remus and smiled again. "I'm going to do the outside now. I'll... I'll see you in the morning."

"Love you," said Remus.

"I love you, too." Remus' father came closer to Remus and bent over to kiss his forehead, but Remus covered his face.

"D-don't touch me; it's too soon..." He didn't look, but he heard his father leave and shut the door. Then the only sound in the room was Remus' heartbeat and ragged breathing—the unmistakable mark of a Soundproofing Charm.

It was amazing how much noise he made, all by himself.

Why was his heartbeat so loud?

He stood up shakily and started pacing the room, reciting that Emerson poem that Questus had known. He only knew a little bit of it, so he repeated what he knew over and over again until he grew bored of it.

When he was little, he used to sing to himself a little. It was too tempting, when the Soundproofing Charms were on and no one was around to hear him. But he wasn't a very good singer, so he'd stopped. Poetry was superior, anyway.

He recited all the poetry that he could remember off the top of his head, and then he was on the ground, shaking and in pain and sweating through his transformation robes, suffering through yet another pre-moon episode...

It was so much better, at Hogwarts, when he could see the moon rising. Here, he could only guess. How much time did he have? An hour? Thirty minutes? Ten minutes? Or was it upon him already?

Remus waited spread-eagled on the floor for a bit longer. His eyes had adjusted to the dark a bit, but it was still pitch black. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steady his shaky breathing.

Then it wasn't shaky anymore. It was dead still.

Remus felt a wave of horror run through him, and he sat up and spread his fingers and gritted his teeth, just like Dumbledore had suggested...

Human again.

Well, not human, exactly, but he looked like one, and that was all that mattered. He sat up, smelled soup, and smiled.

"Remus? Remus, dear? Dad removed the Soundproofing Charm. Can you hear us?"

"Yep," said Remus. His voice was hoarse.

The door opened. "Oh, dear, you're covered in blood. Lyall, can you heal that? I don't like the angle. It's all right, love, just wait a few minutes, and then we'll get you to the couch and give you some potions. Everything's going to be fine..."

Remus woke up late afternoon. "I feel okay," he mused, mildly surprised by the fact.

"Remus! You're awake!" said his mum. "Dad had to go to work. You... you had a rough time of it, but you should be healed up enough that we're... out of the woods."

Remus recognized the so-often-used euphemisms. "I really do feel okay."

"That's good. Oh, a letter came for you! And the Daily Prophet again. Which do you want first? And have some of the soup that I made last night while I was waiting..."

"The letter, please. And thank you."

Remus' mum handed him the letter (and a large helping of soup), and Remus handled the letter carefully so as not to get blood (or soup) on it.

Lupin—

Pomfrey's losing it on my end. Honestly, you'd think she's gone completely mad. Your mother's written to her, but apparently the letter wasn't very encouraging—now she's sitting in the Hospital Wing, tapping her foot, and wearing a shawl like she's prepared to go out. I am prepared to restrain her physically if need be, and it looks as if I'll need to. You should probably write her another letter, for her sake as well as your own.

—Prof. Q.

Remus looked at his mother. "What exactly did you say in your letter to Madam Pomfrey?"

"Oh, I rambled a bit, I'm afraid. I was worried, you know. But I said that you were going to be okay and that Lyall was able to heal up most of it. Why?"

"She's worked herself into a state." Remus handed the letter to his mother, who read it and laughed.

"Oh, dear. That's exactly how I felt after your first full moon away. Why don't you write her one now? I'll get you some ink."

Remus grinned. He knew exactly what to write.

Dear Madam Pomfrey,

I'm fine! (And since I'm not at the Hospital Wing, you can't put a cap in the jar!)

Sincerely,
Remus Lupin.

He folded up the letter and gave it to his mother. "Did you give her the rundown? I assume she wants details."

"I did."

"May I have the rundown?"

Remus' mother sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm not squeamish."

She sighed again. "Very well. You're missing three fingernails, your right arm and leg were broken, you have an awful bite on your forearm, and you have a lot of bruising and scratches."

"Ah." Remus looked at his right hand. "At least nothing happened to this hand."

"Yes..." Remus' mum's mouth was one thin line. "We tried our best to heal you, but you're still rather hurt."

"I feel fine," said Remus. "Pretty good, actually."

"You're under a lot of potions, Remus—we've been saving them for this month, since we knew that it was going to be bad. If you were in pain right now, something would be horribly wrong."

"I feel fine, though. Ergo—nothing's wrong!" Remus forced a grin, and then he asked, "Would you get me a book?"

"Of course, love, which one?"

"Professor Questus lent me one last Thursday—something about the basics of duelling. I was saving it for today."

Remus' mother took the book out of his bag and handed it to Remus, who opened it carefully. He finished the whole thing before bedtime.

He woke up halfway through the night and felt awful. His father was on the armchair next to Remus' couch, keeping watch, but his mother was asleep upstairs. "All right, Remus?" said his father.

Remus managed to make a very small squeak, and then he fell back asleep within seven minutes.

The next three days were very, very boring. Without Madam Pomfrey's expertise, Remus healed half as quickly—so he was still stuck on the couch days after the transformation. It wasn't until Easter before he was feeling well enough to eat at the table with his family. Even though he was frustrated at how slowly he was healing, he didn't complain for fear of making his parents feel worse than they already seemed to. Remus was pretty good at not-complaining. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut.

He went upstairs that night with plans to sleep in his bed instead of the couch. But before he shut off the lights, he opened the notebook.

Nimbus: Sheep! We have photos of the party!
Red: It was so much fun.
Nimbus: Red rode a broomstick, but he crashed into a tree, and Goldfish tried to catch him, but Red just fell on top of him...
Goldfish: It hurt.
Red: Hurt me more than it hurt you!
Nimbus: I doubt that. Oi! Where are you, Sheep?
Goldfish: You'll never believe what Red got Nimbus as a birthday present!
Nimbus: Update—I don't like Red anymore.
Red: I got him the spare Slytherin robes that Mum got me before I was a Gryffindor!
Nimbus: Horrid.
Goldfish: It was so funny!
Nimbus: I'm burning them on Tuesday.

Remus smiled and gazed at the pages of photographs that recounted his friends' adventures. The notebook was absolutely stocked with photos of the three uninjured Marauders. Remus felt left-out, a little... but mostly just happy to see them again. And the fact that they were thinking about him, even while having fun at James', was wonderful.

Sheep: Sorry that I missed you! That sounds like a great present.
Red: It was! You should have seen his face.
Nimbus: Where were you?
Sheep: Doing chores.
Nimbus: How's your mum?
Sheep: Doing well. We ate a very nice dinner yesterday.
Nimbus: She was okay on the twenty-ninth?
Sheep: Nimbus. Leave it. She's completely, utterly, 100% human.
Nimbus: Okay, okay, sheesh. Sorry.
Sheep: How is your Easter going?
Red: AMAZING. Nimbus' family are the coolest.
Nimbus: Aren't they?
Sheep: You know, these nicknames sound kind of dumb.
Nimbus: Shut it, Sheep.
Sheep: I don't think they're going to stick.
Goldfish: I like them.
Red: Me too.
Goldfish: Mother's yelling at me to get to sleep. I have to go.
Sheep: Bye, Goldfish. I should probably get to bed, too.
Red: Goodbye!

Remus put the notebook beside his bed and lied down, still smiling. Suddenly, he heard his mother's voice from downstairs. "Remus, your father's home. Mind if we talk to you for a moment? I know you're not asleep; I could hear your quill scratching."

"Sure!" Remus sat up in bed and pulled the sheets up past his legs, which were still heavily bandaged. The door opened and both his parents entered. Suddenly, Remus remembered something. "I almost forgot! That kid—whose parents were threatened—the werewolf didn't break in, right? Everyone's okay?"

Remus' father was silent.

"Dad?" A horrible feeling was pooling in the pit of Remus' stomach. "Everyone's okay?"

"The family are fine," said Remus' dad shortly. "I wanted to tell you that..."

"Dad. What happened?"

Remus' father sighed and on Remus' bed. "I can't lie to you, can I? You're far too bright." He looked up at the ceiling. "The family are fine, but... the werewolf... went to a neighboring village, when he found out that he couldn't get in. And a young child was bitten."

The terrible feeling in Remus' stomach grew stronger. "How young?"

"Two."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a bit. A two-year-old couldn't survive the transformation, Remus knew. And two was far too young to be going through such tragedy... it wasn't fair.

"He died in hospital earlier today. I saw the parents while I was going to work—they're devastated."

"As anyone would be," said Remus' mother, who had tears in her eyes. Remus had the odd knee-jerk urge to tell her that it was fine, but it wasn't him, so he didn't have the liberty to say that. And it wasn't fine—someone had died. He leaned his head against his father's shoulder, whose heart was beating wildly. Remus almost told them that it was good, at least, that the boy hadn't made it to the first transformation. Remus couldn't think of a worse way to die. But he didn't—that would only make them sad.

"Anyway, on to happier news," said Remus' father, and Remus lifted his head, ready to glue another fake smile to his face. "I wanted to tell you that I was promoted."

"Lyall, that's great news!" said Remus' mum, but her eyes were still sad. "How much is the pay raise?"

"Not too much, but it's a little bit more. More notably, the work itself is much better—I don't think my hours will be nearly as long now. I was thinking that we could go out tomorrow to celebrate. Fortescue's, perhaps? Diagon Alley?"

Remus grinned. He hadn't been to Fortescue's in ages, even though it felt a bit tacky to be celebrating in the wake of another family's tragedy. "Yes, please!"

"Are you sure you're feeling well enough?" asked his mother.

"Absolutely."

"Great," said his dad, grinning. "We'll go tomorrow afternoon. Happy Easter again."

"Happy Easter again. Night, Dad."

"Good night, Remus."

Remus was asleep before his parents even left his room.

AN: Such a sad chapter in so many ways. Don't worry, more happiness is coming soon. Eventually. I promise!