"Professor Questus? It's Thursday... I'm here for my lesson."

The door flew open almost immediately, and Questus' eyes were shining oddly. He looked absolutely ecstatic, though Remus for the life of him couldn't figure out why. "Good," Questus said happily. "Have a seat, I'd like to talk first."

Remus drew his wand cautiously. "Er. What's going on?"

"Nothing, nothing. You're just getting very good at the nonverbal Shield Charm, and I think it's time to move on. Let's do something else... something like an experiment. Training. You can put that away; I promise I won't pull anything."

Remus put his wand away and sat down. He half-expected Questus to try to hex him anyway, saying, "the Dark Arts don't keep their promises," or something equally unfair, but nothing happened.

Questus dragged a chair to the opposite side of the desk at which Remus was sitting. The chair made a very loud screeching noise as it dragged against the floor, but Questus didn't seem to care; in fact, he was watching Remus rather carefully, almost as if he was doing it on purpose to see what would happen. Then he sat across from Remus and smiled. "Tomorrow night is the full moon," he said.

"Really? I had no clue."

Questus' mouth twitched, but he didn't smile. "Watch your sarcasm," he said. "It may just be the two of us right now, but I'm still your teacher. I only wanted to know how you were feeling today."

Remus shrugged, now embarrassed. "I'm fine, sir," he said.

"Still okay to duel?"

"I suppose, although... I'm afraid I won't be as quick."

Questus snorted. "Are you ever?"

Remus shook his head and laughed. He'd grown accustomed to Questus' sense of humor by now. "I'm trying, though."

"You'd better be. Otherwise, there's really no point in having these lessons, is there?" With that, Questus shifted gears so quickly that Remus could almost hear the hypothetical gears scraping against each other. "So... since it's getting closer to the full moon, are your senses growing stronger as well?"

"Erm... yeah." Where on earth are you going with this, Professor?

"I'd like to learn more about that."

Remus' stomach knotted up like James' hair did when he was riding a broomstick. "What haven't I told you?"

"Plenty. I have quite a few questions..." Questus trailed off. "But it's not so much about what you can tell me as it's about what you can do. I'd like to see for myself."

Remus did not like the sound of this. "Professor, I don't want..."

"...to be treated as a test subject, yes, I know. But I want to help you, and enhanced senses are an extraordinary skill. In order to help you hone them, I need to know more."

Know more. The phrase was ambiguous, and Remus wasn't exactly sure what it entailed. After a long pause, he worked up the courage to ask, "What did you have in mind?"

Questus' eyes lit up again as if Remus had just given consent for any type of experimental testing. "First I want to ask some questions—is that okay?"

"Er, yeah."

"Are you sure? McGonagall says I'm being too pushy, and I'm inclined to respect McGonagall's opinion far more than Pomfrey's. The difference is: McGonagall is competent."

Remus laughed a little, even though he didn't like it when Questus spoke badly of Madam Pomfrey (or the other way round). "Yes, sir, it's okay. But I'm not promising to answer them all."

"Fine, fine. Let me get you some tea."

Remus sat and waited. He wasn't sure why Questus seemed to be so excitable today. Indeed, Professor Questus wasn't like himself at all—it was almost as if something wonderful had happened, but Remus couldn't think what.

"Are you all right, Professor?" he asked when Professor Questus had returned.

"Yes, yes. I've only just—only just received some wonderful news from the Ministry—" he stared at Remus and smiled— "that I won't get into; it's not a big deal. Okay. First, I'd like to know what you can hear from this classroom. Take your time."

"May I...?"

"I don't care what you have to do, Lupin."

Remus closed his eyes a bit self-consciously and listened for a couple minutes. "Er... the Great Hall... and the courtyard. Those are the loudest. And there are some students in the corridors..."

"Talking about what?"

"Well... I can't really make a lot of it out. It's more of a dull roar, really, and there's enough noise in here that I... oh, there's a girl in the corridor talking about her cat, though. Apparently, it ate the plant that she was trying to grow in her dormitory."

Questus chuckled. "Can you tell me anything else about her, by chance?"

"Hang on, she's coming past the classroom. I should be able to... okay, she's... Muggle-born. She's a Gryffindor."

"How do you know...?"

"And she's... you know, the Gryffindor with the brown hair. She's in my Charms class. Her... her ears are pierced and she... she's with a boy, but I don't know him very well. I think he's a Ravenclaw. MacDonald, that's her name." Remus' eyes snapped open. "I don't remember her first name."

"Are you certain?" The expression on Questus' face was quite unreadable.

"Yes."

Questus stood up and opened the door, waved impatiently to whomever was in the corridor, and then quickly closed it. "You're right," he said, evidently awestruck. "One hundred percent correct. Ravenclaw boy—his name's Johnson—and Mary MacDonald."

"Mary! That's her first name."

"How did you...?" Questus blinked and shook his head. "How did you know everything else? Gryffindor, brown hair, Muggle-born?"

"Er, I recognized her voice, and her... her scent, as she came close to the door. And then I tried to pair it with a face and a name."

"But how did you know she was Muggle-born?" Questus pressed. "If you've never talked to her much before, that is. You know her parentage—which is a touchy subject in current times—but not her name? How?"

Remus winced. "I can tell," he said shortly.

"How? The scent?"

There was a long pause. Remus hated admitting this. "Yes."

"So can you tell the parentage of everyone you meet?"

"No," said Remus hesitantly. "I can only tell the difference between... wizards and Muggles. So I know who has a Muggle parent when they come back from holidays—because of... because of the scent that rubs off on them, you know... and Mary MacDonald has a... stronger scent than most... so I figured she was Muggle-born. I might be wrong," he said hastily. "Perhaps she's raised by a single Muggle parent and she's half-blood. Or maybe I'm off by a lot and she's half-and-half and lives with both parents. But I can say for certain that she definitely, definitely has at least one Muggle person at her home with whom she spends a lot of time."

"Hm." Professor Questus seemed to consider. "I do remember reading something like that. Muggles are less likely to survive werewolf attacks because they taste different, yes?" Remus shut his eyes. This piece of information right here was precisely why Remus did not want to discuss this particular subject. "And the werewolf has a difficult time restraining him or herself because of the taste," Questus continued, apparently oblivious to Remus' discomfort.

"Itself," Remus automatically corrected, but he quailed under Questus' curious gaze. "I suppose," he conceded quietly.

"That's very interesting. How do you pick out a particular scent, when there's so much going on around you? Some animals have the ability to move their nostrils independently, but you don't. Not in this form, anyhow; I don't know if you can on full moons. So how do you know what's what?"

"I... don't know," said Remus, flustered. "I just do." He was hit with sudden inspiration. "How do you pick out a particular color when there are so many colors around you?"

Questus snorted. "Good point. So... hearing. You said that there's noise in here. Apart from our voices, I can't hear anything. I don't have any magical creatures in here today... besides you." He chuckled a bit at his own joke, even though it hadn't been very funny. "So, what do you hear?"

"Heartbeats."

"Whose?"

"Mine and yours. I can't hear Mary MacDonald's; I'm not that good. And our breathing is rather loud."

Questus took a sip of tea, and Remus mirrored him. "Doesn't that get annoying?" Questus asked. "Heartbeats and breathing?"

"No... not really, sir. Er, you can hear breathing, can't you? I was pretty shaken to find out that normal people can't hear their own heartbeats, but breathing seems pretty apparent. At least your own...?"

"I suppose I can. If I pay attention to it."

"So it's like that, then." Remus took another sip of tea. "I'm good at tuning things out."

"I see. And the tea? Anything strange about that?"

Remus grinned. "What do you mean? Did you poison it?"

"I think you'd know if I did. But is there anything off? Anything at all?"

"Well, obviously. You put a little bit more milk in it than you usually do," said Remus. Professor Questus rarely put a lot of milk in tea, so it was pretty noticeable.

Professor Questus looked impressed. "I can't say I expected you to notice that, though I was curious. I usually add an exact amount via magic, but this time I added it by hand. I tried to the best of my ability to get the proportions exact, but..."

"It was a tiny bit more than intended, Professor," said Remus. To his own surprise, he was smiling. He didn't like showing off his enhanced senses at all, but he loved how Professor Questus was regarding them as if they were extra talents rather than the telltale signs of a monster. It was nice, almost.

Almost.

"Do you realize how much you could do with this, Lupin? These are incredibly useful talents. Why don't you talk about them more often? They seem like the only upside to being a werewolf."

Remus paused. "They're... not. Not really. I'd rather not have them."

"Why? This is incredible. What I wouldn't give..."

"Well, hopefully you wouldn't give up your humanity," said Remus as lightly as possible. It didn't work, and he just sounded depressed. "It's uncomfortable. I can't even go in the kitchen on the morning of the full moon because everything's too strong. Sirius had a sandwich under his bed in September and it made me sick to my stomach. Small noises that no one else hears make me jump out of my skin. Everybody's voice always seems too loud. I can't go to parties, I try to avoid crowds, the Great Hall and Quidditch games give me headaches, and I can hear everybody's heart beating all the time. It's exhausting."

"But still...!"

"And the worst part, the very worst part, is that..." Remus wasn't sure if he should get into this.

"Go ahead."

"I could have been nearly human, you know. This is one of the only things keeping me from being... you know, human during the day and not-human one night a month. It's undeniable proof that I'm a werewolf all the time, and not just on the full moon. And it makes me wonder... it makes me wonder, sometimes, how many other things changed, too. I wasn't even five yet when it happened. I keep telling everyone that I have human emotions, and I'm just like other people, and I'm not dangerous... but I don't know whether my emotions have changed at all. Maybe they have, just like my senses. I don't remember anything before... the attack... which is kind of disconcerting. I have no idea what it's like to be human at all, and if this is different..." He studied the tea-with-too-much-milk and listened to his heartbeat in his ears—and Professor Questus', which was even and far slower than Remus', as it always was. "I've also got a temper because of the lycanthropy," Remus murmured, but he wasn't sure Questus had heard him.

"That's not the only thing, either," Remus continued. "Different about me, you know. There are other things. Medical, technical things. The consistency of my blood is slightly different, as well as... you know, completely contaminated. My heart beats faster than normal people's—all the time, even when I'm nearly asleep. Not by a whole lot, but still... and I'm pretty sure my hair and nails grow faster. I lost all my baby teeth before I was eight. And I've also got better night vision and things. I've tried to remember what it was like before—emotionally, mentally—but I can't. Not at all."

"Night vision is useful," Questus mused. "But that's not the point, is it?" He finished his tea, not taking his eyes off of Remus. Remus squirmed. "Yeah, I didn't think about the psychological impacts that being so different could have on a child." More silence. "And that must be a little off-putting. All I can tell you is that you're definitely not human. I think that's probably a good thing—humanity is messed-up in general—but I can see how you'd think differently."

"The Sorting Hat told me that my mind was different," Remus grumbled. "It said it when I was being Sorted. It said my mind was different from the other kids'."

There was a brief pause, and then... "Idiot," whispered Questus under his breath.

"What?"

Questus grinned. "I said you're an idiot. You realize you just described the entire population. We're all different, Lupin; that's rather the point. We all have different minds and different emotions. Isn't that obvious?"

"But..."

"I don't know what the Sorting Hat said to you, but I assure you that every student that it Sorts has a different mind. That particular trait isn't exclusive to you. Well, it is, but it isn't. You're probably just overthinking it."

"I..."

"Furthermore, the fact that you're talking to me, of all people, about being worried you're not emotional enough—well, that's a little odd." He had a point there. "I think that you—a werewolf—have plenty more human emotions than I do. I think that you—a werewolf—have more human emotions than half the student body does. You're very emotional, you know."

"But what if..."

"Let me finish. I would argue it's our differences that make us human, not necessarily our similarities. It's more interesting that way, anyway. And it's got nothing to do with species. After all, I understand you more than Pomfrey, and Pomfrey is 100% human."

"But what about...?"

"I think I understand you more than I understand most people in this castle, in fact. You know, I'd even go as far as to say I understand you more than I understand anybody." Questus looked a bit surprised at this revelation. "Which is strange, seeing as I feel like I barely know you at all. But—then again—I have done my research."

"That makes me uncomfortable."

"See, I knew it would."

"That would make anybody uncomfortable."

"Further proving that your emotions, while distinctly of the Remus Lupin variety, are also of the human variety. You have a pretty good understanding of your peers' minds, Lupin. You're good at reading people. Empathizing—I was never able to do that. I'd say someone who didn't have any human emotions whatsoever couldn't."

"Hmm." Remus finished his tea now, too, and he set it down, more confused and less confused at the same time.

"Good, you're done," said Professor Questus suddenly. "Here, I want you to try to hone those werewolf-senses when it comes to duelling... can you just focus on my heartbeat and breathing patterns? Is that what you said it was?"

"Said what was?"

"How werewolf senses are advantageous in duelling. You said I had a change of heart rate and breathing before I cast a spell. That gives you a split-second advantage, and I want to try to hone that."

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, okay."

"Good. So focus on me, and try to block this next spell..."

"Protego! Ah, fiddlesticks..."

"Too slow. Try again. Nonverbally helps."

"I'm trying."

"Like I said before... you'd better be trying. Otherwise there's no point in doing this at all."

The lesson lasted another hour, and Questus did not lose his good mood. Remus wondered what it was all about, but he didn't bother asking.

After all, Professor Questus kept no secrets from Remus. He'd tell him eventually.

Remus woke up the next day at four-twenty-three. He opened his eyes and suppressed a groan, and then he swung his legs out of bed to go the Hospital Wing. Remus heard James wake up as he walked past. "It's the full moon," James whispered.

"Is it?" said Remus mildly.

In through his nose, out through his mouth. Control your emotions.

"Going to visit your mum?"

"No," said Remus. "I'm just up early and I wanted to read in the common room."

"All right," said James, turning over on his stomach. He was asleep again in thirty seconds.

Remus had a plan today.

He went down to the Hospital Wing and greeted Madam Pomfrey, who pulled him inside and pushed him onto his bed.

"You're looking awful, Mr. Lupin. You had such a bad full moon last month that I think we need to..."

"Madam Pomfrey?" Remus interrupted. "Would you please tell my friends that my... grandmother's died, or something?"

Madam Pomfrey froze. "She has?"

"No! No. But I need another excuse... James is starting to suspect."

"He is?"

"Kind of."

"Okay, sure. I'll do that during breakfast."

"Thank you," said Remus, his head pounding through his skull. It was hard to focus on anything, so he leaned back into his pillow. An audible groan escaped his lips when he felt his spine constrict with pain.

"Are you quite all right, Mr. Lupin?"

"Fi—" Stupid jar. "I'm achy."

"Would you like a..."

"No."

"Sleeping Draught?"

"Oh. Okay. I though you were going to offer me a Calming Draught again. Sleeping Draught would be good. Thank you."

Remus took the Draught, and everything went blessedly black.

Madam Pomfrey had been gone for a while. Remus was awake and trying to read now, and Madam Pomfrey finally entered with an amused look on her face. "You have very good friends, Mr. Lupin."

"I know," said Remus, smiling. "But I'm surprised to hear someone else say it. Usually it's about how bad of an influence they are on me."

"Well, that too. But I told them about your grandmother."

"And?"

"They were very sympathetic. Pettigrew looked like he was going to cry on your behalf. James asked if they could make you something; after I agreed, they sat down in the library—yes, the library, and Potter didn't even wear his Library Disguise—and then they drew you a card. I supervised the whole time. They're very kind, you know."

She handed Remus the card, and Remus couldn't keep the smile off of his face. On the front, there was a picture of the four of them—James on a broomstick with hyperbolically messy hair, Sirius next to him, laughing, Peter sitting on the ground and clapping, and Remus under the tree, wearing a red jumper and reading a book and rolling his eyes. The picture was very clearly drawn by Peter, who was not very good at art but often willing to embarrass himself. Remus opened the card up, and Sirius' neat calligraphy filled the pages.

Remus Loopy Lupin—

Your life is awful, mate. We don't even know what to say, except that James is sorry for harassing you, I'm sorry for being a git, and Peter is sorry for absolutely nothing because he claims that there's nothing that he ever did to be sorry for. So we need you to come back and set him straight. Just kidding, stay away as long as you need. None of us have ever had a relative die (except I wish that I did).

James has just informed me that I am being insensitive, so I'm sorry.

Anyway, none of us have ever had a relative die, so we don't really know what to say at all. Take it easy. Wear your seatbelt (apparently that's a Muggle thing that's good to do, though I don't know how wearing a belt could possibly help with anything). Eat vegetables. Brush your teeth twice a day. Do your homework. (Or don't! You have a fantastic excuse!)

James has informed me once again that I am being insensitive. I'm sorry, I guess.

Our condolences, and do try not to be too annoyed with James for bothering you all the time. He deserves any annoyance you can give him, of course. But he's my friend, so I'm obligated to ask you to go easy on him.

Love,
James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius

P.S. I thought that "love" was too sappy, but Peter was intent on putting it in.

Remus put the card down and smiled.

And then promptly started to cry.

"Remus!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey, running to his side in an instant. "What on earth is wrong?"

"I hate lying to them!" he sniffled. "They're so nice about it! They'll hate me when they find out!"

"They won't hate you," said Madam Pomfrey.

"No, you don't know that! You have no idea what you're talking about! I've lived with this, I know for a fact that they'll hate me—just like everyone else! They won't stand to be with me, they'll be disgusted that they ever spent time with me, they'll want me dead, and then all this—" Remus gestured to the card— "won't matter! None of it will! I won't be Remus Lupin with the book under the tree, I'll be Remus Lupin, werewolf—Remus Lupin, animal—Remus Lupin, dangerous Dark creature..."

"Mr. Lupin, I will not have you talking like that," Madam Pomfrey reprimanded.

"Like what? Like a lunatic? By definition, that's what I am," he said hotly. "Seriously, look up the etymology. It's pretty depressing."

The anger was bubbling up inside him, burning and boiling, and he knew that it was irresponsible to be acting like this—that he would lose control if he kept going—but it felt good, to be honest. He knew that Questus was insistent that he should control his emotions, but Remus was tired of keeping everything at bay.

"You don't know how people have treated me," he continued, even though it was probably more information than Madam Pomfrey wanted to know. "The Ministry, society, normal people, teenagers, teachers, anyone—literally anyone—!" He crossed his arms. "Werewolves have absolutely no place in human society, because we are not human and we never will be, and all I'm doing is trying to fit in where I don't belong. This is so incredibly, awfully, horribly hard, and it doesn't help that the only end result is being found out, being kicked out, and being turned out as a monster!"

Exactly a second and a half passed, and then Remus realized that he was being a bit of a brat.

Then he realized that he wasn't really supposed to get angry.

Then he realized that he had absolutely no reason to snap at Madam Pomfrey, and doing so was really only enforcing the idea that he didn't have human emotions to begin with.

Remus had an aversion to many things: Transfiguration tests (he wasn't great at those), Jane Austen (the romantic drama made him sick to his stomach), sleeping next to windows (for obvious reasons), and especially porridge.

But Remus would rather Transfigure a window into a Jane Austen novel whilst eating porridge than he would do this. This was something that he hated more than all of those things combined, and it was something that would—unfortunately—haunt him for the rest of his life, no matter what: and that thing that Remus never wanted to do was actually act like a werewolf.

"Are you all right, Remus?" asked Madam Pomfrey, and he came back to his senses.

"I'm not supposed to... I can't..." He felt the anger return, and he pushed it down. "Give me a second."

"A second to...?"

"Shh!" hissed Remus, and regretted it immediately. He closed his eyes. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. In through his nose. Out through his mouth... He felt the anger dissipate, and he opened his eyes. "I am so sorry."

"What on earth happened?" asked Madam Pomfrey. "I've never seen you like that before. Anger of any sort is extremely unusual for you."

Remus rubbed his face. "I sort of lost control," he admitted in a hushed tone. Then he looked back at the card and smiled. "This was very kind of them. Could you put it on my bedside table?"

"Yes, of course, but..."

"I'm going to sleep now." He pulled the covers clean over his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

He did not sleep, but at least this way he wouldn't have to talk about it. He hated talking about this sort of thing with anyone but Professor Questus—even more, in fact, than he hated porridge.

AN: I actually really like porridge; it's my favorite breakfast food by far. It kind of hurts to write someone insulting it as such. Alas, sacrifices must be made in the name of literature.