November 28th, 1976: Remus Lupin

Until now, he'd forgotten what it's like to feud with Sirius. They've already been through a similar situation, after the Snape debacle in fifth year, but that time Sirius was the offender and Remus was the one caught in the middle. James and Peter had every right to be angry, of course. Hell, Remus was angry too—but the idea of having to live without Sirius's friendship hurt enough that he didn't abandon Sirius the way James and Peter did.

Perhaps the memory of that confusing time explains why the Marauders' second schism is that much more difficult for Remus: after having come out of that first row so much closer to all three of his mates, Sirius's spurning of Remus for James feels like ten painful steps backward for them all.

It shouldn't surprise Remus how much he's come to rely on Sirius emotionally, but somehow, it does. Not having him around to talk to or laugh with or confide in leaves a hole in Remus's life that he doesn't know how to fill—a hole, in truth, probably bigger than anyone else would have the ability to leave. The warm, hazy, lucky feeling he always gets from being around Sirius is gone, and he's supposed to act like that doesn't affect him, but without it, he's left empty and cold and totally, totally alone, no matter who else is around him.

Working with Belby, trusting Belby with his life, with his secret, is a risky move. Remus gets that. But if anything, he'll need his mates more than ever to get him through the fallout. Without somebody's support…

Sirius refuses to try to see eye-to-eye with him. That's bad enough. But Sirius also takes James out, Peter is dealing with enough in his life that Remus doesn't want to unload his own burdens onto him, and he doesn't need any of the girls figuring out what he is at a time like this, especially when Marlene already knows too much.

At first, he's tempted to seek out Dorcas or Kingsley and ask to take on extra prefect duties with Regulus Black, but on second thought, he'd rather avoid their suspicion. Heck, even hanging around Belby or Black for a day seems like a preferable alternative to the nightmare that has become Gryffindor house at a glance… but then, Remus is desperate, not masochistic.

He goes to Lily. Swiping the Marauder's Map out of James's bag before anyone else is up, Remus dresses quickly and then waits inside his hangings until the moment Lily Evans is alone and decent.

Luckily for him, she's been an early riser ever since she came off her Dreamless Sleep Potion back in September: they're two of the first ones to breakfast. "Hey, Lily, do you mind?" Remus says by way of greeting, approaching her in the Great Hall and tentatively taking the seat beside her that James usually occupies.

"Well…" she says, hesitating. Lily's not one to reject a friend in need, but Remus knows how awfully close she and James have been getting lately.

"Don't even bother considering it, Lily; he's probably going to be hanging around Sirius a lot more than usual today," he says, dismissive and a little dejected.

Lily sets down her fork, twists around in her seat, and looks him properly in the eye. The full moon is a week from tomorrow, so he's already looking under the weather; coupled with the stress he's been under lately, the sight of him probably isn't especially pleasing to the eye.

"James mentioned that there was a blowout at the game yesterday, but I didn't realize it was that bad," she says, her voice laced with worry. "Are the four of you going to be all right?"

"I hope so," says Remus, reaching for a platter of pancakes. "I don't know how I'm going to do it without them."

"Do what?"

And because he's just too tired to fight his only ally and she already knows too much anyway, he tells her, "Belby's working on a potion to cure… my furry little problem. I agreed to be his test subject last month. He hasn't been able to get it to work yet."

If he weren't so exhausted, he'd probably be amused by Lily's startled reaction: her mouth opens and closes, opens and closes, as she gapes. "Yeah, that's what they thought, too," Remus tells her, taking a too-big bite of toast and quickly washing it down with a swig of pumpkin juice.

Studying him, Lily's not eating anymore. "It's not that," she says gently, "but I can't blame them for thinking that you're making a mistake. Remus… your problem has been around for as long as wizards can remember, and nobody's been able to cure it yet. I know it's your choice to do this, but you have to admit, that doesn't seem very promising."

"Gee, thanks for the support," says Remus morosely.

"That's not what I meant. I see where Sirius is coming from; that doesn't mean I agree with him." Remus looks up as Lily continues, lowering her voice to speak freely, "Lycanthropy has been around for thousands of years, but do you know how long it's been since the last known attempt to cure it? Centuries, Remus. Even during the Wizarding Renaissance of the 1400s, no one even suggested studying it. The last time anybody took interest in werewolves, magical theory wasn't nearly advanced enough to treat them, and now that we might have the knowledge to take lycanthropy on again, the stigma has become so accepted that people no longer view it as something that could possibly be treated."

Still, Remus isn't convinced. He wishes that he were confident in Belby's plans, but he's not. Faintly smiling, Lily murmurs, "You know what the last thing was that wizards tried to use to cure this? Feeding werewolves monkshood. Wolfsbane, Muggles used to call it—this was long before the International Statute of Secrecy. It killed most, paralyzed the rest—a whole lot of good Muggle folklore did for werewolves, huh?" She shakes her head and pours herself more pumpkin juice. "Sirius has a point, but he's not studying History of Magic at the N.E.W.T. level."

"James is," Remus points out glumly.

"James," says Lily, laughing, "only even took that class because he knew I'd be in it; everything he hears in that class goes in one ear and out the other. Look, even I have reservations about you working with Belby, if only because he's too young to have strong potioneering experience, and because he's got a shady character to boot. But don't think you're wasting your time on a disease without the possibility of a cure. For all we know, the only reason people think that it can't be treated is cyclical thinking, and if nobody else is willing to try to beat the odds than Belby… well, he's a smart bloke. I can't say I trust him after what happened last month, but you're not stupid… for all we know, this could have a wide-scale payoff for the entire werewolf community one day."

Remus isn't quite sure what to say to that, so he just keeps eating breakfast and avoids Lily's eyes. Sighing, she promises, "I'll talk to James. It'll be all right, Remus."

"Thanks," he says softly with a tentative smile, glancing at her and laughing as he realizes she's raking a hand through her hair just like James. "You know, you told James that made him look stupid once," he says, nodding to the gesture.

Lily freezes mid-motion and cracks a smile in return. "A lot has changed over the last few months," she admits.

"Speaking of change," says Remus (he spends enough time dwelling on his affliction, so he figures it's a worthwhile distraction to take interest in Lily's life instead of just his own), "when is it that you're leaving for France again?"

"The tenth," she replies, breaking into a proper grin at the mention of it. "I leave after History of Magic, right before dinner. Brinn says I can Side-Along-Apparate to Paris with him and do a little sightseeing the night before, and then they're having a two-day convention with the French seats on the International Confederation of Wizards that I'll be sitting in on. The Confederation is having a full meeting in January, so beforehand, they'll be discussing the issues and deciding what propositions that France as a body will bring to the Supreme Mugwump. That's Dumbledore, actually, but all he can really do is mediate the discussion, it's a very democratic setup."

She pauses for breath, full of excitement. Remus can tell she's been very much looking forward to this. "Do you know whether the war with the Death Eaters is going to be discussed?" he asks.

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," Lily assures him breathily. "I know the British are seeking to get international backup for the war at the meeting this winter, and if we can get support from France, that'll be a huge step in convincing the rest of Europe and, in turn, the entire Confederation. It's hard to predict how France will react to the request, but since there's a chance that You-Know-Who's going to set his sights globally and would probably take on France next if he conquers Britain, we're hoping they'll want to keep his influence out of their country and prevent the problem before it even starts for them," she explains.

"Huh," says Remus, mulling it over. The most he knows about the war is the names of his classmates' parents or friends who have been claimed by Death Eaters yet. He doesn't know a lot about international politics, but even so, he hopes to god that France will see sense and step in. "We'll all be hoping for the best for you and your ambassador when you leave," he tells her before biting into his pancakes.

She thanks him, smiling. "That reminds me; I've got to get down to the Ministry to meet with him again in a couple of hours…"

"Before you go, you wouldn't want to go down to the library with me to get a head start on that Defense Against the Dark Arts paper, would you?" Remus asks, trying to keep the pleading out of his voice. "It's just… with all that's going on right now between me and Sirius and everything…"

He needn't have worried: Lily must remember from last year what it's like to feel alone in one's own house and year. "Yeah, of course," she says mildly, pushing away her plate and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask you about it anyway…"

He can spend all the time he wants hiding out in the library to study on Sunday, but as he's painfully reminded in Charms the next morning, he'll have to face his situation sooner or later. As Peter dropped the class with Mary this year, Remus won't be able to work with them like they always had every week. He knows when he's not wanted.

To his surprise, however, Marlene waves him over before he has a chance to be the odd one out of their class of seven. "Want to partner me today, Lupe?" she proposes innocently enough, clearing a space for his books on the tabletop.

"What about Em? Don't the two of you usually work together in here?" he asks, even as he's taking her up on her offer.

"Lily and Alice can have her today," says Marlene dismissively, tossing her copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six a little too harshly onto the desk. Glancing furtively at James and Sirius's table in the back and probably failing to conceal his wistfulness, he thinks of the strangeness that's sprung up between Sirius and Emmeline as of late and wonders if that has anything to do with the change of pace. Is it too complicated between the three of them?

Oh, who is he kidding? It's been a long time since anything was simple between any of the nine of them. As if in confirmation of this, Marlene clarifies her real reasons (in Remus's mind, anyway) with her next words, spoken deathly softly: "You said you were sick last Saturday."

Remus heaves a sigh: he should have known that this conversation was coming sooner or later. "Look, I'm sorry about everything that happened at the game," he apologizes, twirling his quill between his fingers and avoiding her eyes. "It wasn't fair to bring that up in front of you and then leave you in the dark. It was rude, and you deserve better than the way we all treated you and took you for granted."

She's not resentful like he'd expected her to be. No, on the contrary, she seems a little taken aback. "Thanks, Lupe, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. If anybody owes me an apology on that count, it's Black."

"Ordinarily, I'd explain it on his behalf to spare you the trouble of another argument, but I'm afraid I'm in no position to speak for him at the moment," says Remus heavily.

"Lily told me you're rowing because of what happened," Marlene says, pursing her lips.

Heart sinking, he asks, "Yeah? Did she tell you anything else about what's wrong with me?"

"No, nothing like that," Marlene assures him, resting her elbows on the desk and her chin in her hands. "Believe me, I've been trying to get her to spill that secret for a while now, but she won't budge."

For a moment, neither of them says anything, the last of their classmates trickling into the room as they wait for the bell to ring.

"Lupe, for what it's worth, I don't think Black has any right to be mad at you," says Marlene, finally breaking the tension. "Upset I could understand, if he had your best interests in mind, but accusatory… that's not his place. 'S your life," she tells him, sounding weary. "He's probably just worried about whatever's wrong with you: he and Jay made it sound like this treatment you're attempting with Belby is pretty risky. He'll come around."

"I hope so," confides Remus, and in that moment, he desperately wishes that Fenrir Greyback had never bitten him.

He's a little startled the next time she speaks, whispering, "When you say you're sick…"

"It isn't deadly," he promises. "It's just… something I have to live with." More like live around, but Marlene doesn't need any extra clues, as far as Remus is concerned.

"I hope that's the truth," she mumbles. "Lupe, whatever it is, I'm not going to—to flip out about it, you know that, right? However bad your health is, we'd all stand by you. All anyone wants is for you to be safe."

Try telling yourself that when you realize I'm the danger to everyone else, he thinks, but he can't explain it. Marlene wouldn't understand, not without knowing he falls under the highest possible Ministry of Magic classification in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and god help him if any more people ever find that out about him. "Thanks, Marlene," he says instead, feigning comfort and flipping open his textbook as Flitwick begins today's lecture.

The first few days carry on just the same, Remus taking refuge in books and spells and, occasionally, the girls. It's not until Wednesday that he finally gets James alone, though considering the treatment he's been getting this week, he's not sure whether the company will be something he'll appreciate.

He's surprised into silence when James wordlessly takes the seat next to his in Ancient Runes, but it doesn't take Remus all that long to confront him about it. "I know you disagree with what I've been doing, but I didn't realize that a difference of opinion warrants abandonment, Prongs," he says earnestly.

The instant he says it, he half regrets it. James doesn't look at Remus at first, rubbing his eyes and massaging his temples, and Remus wonders whether all of this has been taking a toll out of him, too. "I'm not mad at you, Moony, but you know how Padfoot gets when he's upset, and I just didn't want to… escalate any of that," he says, at long last, to explain. "I'm sorry. All this must be horrible for you."

"Yeah, you could say that," Remus half agrees. He's glad they're not casting runes today, as that would require total silence for precision; the class is working on compositions instead, so with a bit of help from Muffliato, he hopes that he and James can talk some of this out. "Usually I'd just go to Wormtail for support, but he has enough on his plate already, and besides, I…" He pauses, shakes his head. "You remember what it used to be like before this past year, and I don't want to be the reason we go back to that," he says, dipping his quill into his inkwell to try to diminish some of the melodrama he knows is packed into that statement.

"Moony…" begins James, weary. "You and Wormtail are two of my best mates now, even if it wasn't always like this. Nothing that happens between us is going to change that."

Doubtfully, Remus says, "Remember what it was like last year when you and Padfoot were rowing? Everybody's always thought we're inseparable, but half the time, I still felt like I was just getting to know the two of you… after five years of Marauding, and of you lot making sacrifices for me and my condition, mind you," he adds, shaking his head. "I could never wrap my head around it before… why you'd disregard the law for the sake of someone you didn't necessarily know you could trust."

"Don't think like that," interrupts James sharply, but he says nothing by way of rebuttal.

Sighing, Remus continues, "And then we all split up, and I felt like I was getting closer to you and Padfoot as individuals, but between the two of you… I mean, you withstood that whole situation, in the end, because you two had the tools and the closeness to get through that. But Prongs, what if Padfoot and I aren't strong enough to get through this?"

"Oh, Moony," says James at long last, bursting with emotion and empathy. If this were a sappy novel, Remus figures, they'd be crying and reuniting and falling all over at this point. But his life is no novel; everything he's withstood in the lycanthropic half of his lifetime has been of conflict without resolution, of flat action with the occasional bump up or down along the way. "You and Padfoot are going to come out of this just fine, all right? I promise you that. I'll ask Lily to talk some sense into him about it; maybe he has a problem with Belby, but that doesn't mean he has to have a problem with you."

"You know how he gets, Prongs," Remus says dubiously. "When he gets the idea that he's right and you're wrong…"

He thinks of Sirius's blind intolerance of Death Eater sympathizers like Belby, his friend's familial rejection, and Remus can't say he blames Sirius, but he can't say it doesn't make him worry for their future, either.

"I know," says James, fatigued. "I know."

It seems that Lily and James made good on their promise to talk to Sirius, because by the end of the day, things are more strained than ever. Remus is still avoiding the Gryffindors whenever he can, but when he awkwardly returns to his dormitory for the night after an hours-long stint in the library and sees the look on Sirius's face, he's not sure whether he regrets being so distant or wants to run right back out of the room. He feels out his reaction for a split second before it seems to settle on anger.

"Where've you been?" demands Sirius, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Like you couldn't have checked the Map for the last five days to find me," Remus says bitingly. He ought to back down, he knows that, but it isn't fair and nobody's taking his side and he's had a lot of time to brood over that since the game last Saturday.

It isn't good enough for Sirius, not that Remus had expected it to be. "If you honestly believe there's nothing wrong with going right back to Belby on Monday night after all of this—"

"—I talked to Lily on Sunday. Historically speaking, the notion that it's impossible to cure lycanthropy resulted from a load of prejudice and misconceptions," says Remus with what little patience he has left. "And I trust that Belby's not doing this to hurt me; he'd be too afraid of getting caught and putting himself at a disadvantage to ever try to hurt someone—"

"—Oh, so you'll trust Belby based on your impression of his character? If he's wrong about this, you're going to be the one paying for his mistakes, and he's not going to do a thing to help you for fear of risking his own sorry comfortable lifestyle, you do realize that, right?" erupts Sirius. "And yet you still think he's trustworthy? Or are you just conveniently going to neglect to factor that chance in?"

Maybe a bit childishly, Remus retorts, "Well, in that case, it's not like there'd be an antidote for whatever ended up getting me hurt, so it won't really matter whether Belby's a coward or not, will it?"

"And Lily? You'll ask her for advice at the drop of a hat and won't tell us what's going on with you for a full month?" Sirius retaliates.

"For the record, you and Prongs were the first to find out about this," says Remus hotly. "Is that what this is about? Your sorry ego can't handle my right to privacy? Ever consider that maybe I didn't want to tell you because I didn't trust you to take it any more maturely than this?"

This time, he knows for sure that he shouldn't have said it, but even if Sirius is broken up about it, well, so is Remus, and his mates can't take away his own damn right to defend himself when it's his life, his choices. He shuts Sirius up, at any rate, and notices Peter (shocked) and James (disappointed) for the first time in the silence.

To hell with it, Remus decides, retreating behind the curtains of his four-poster. They've already judged him enough.

Is it wrong that he's relieved the next time he's in Belby's company? As agreed before the secret came out, they meet in the library after Potions on Friday, Belby bringing a revised copy of the recipe for which to get Remus's approval. "If you think you can manage a bit of intellectuality, I had a couple of suggestions to run by you," says Belby with his usual superior drawl.

But Remus doesn't trust his indifference, not for a minute. "Look, before we start," he begins, waiting till Belby makes nervous eye contact before he says any more, "Sirius told me there was a confrontation. Whatever he said…"

"Not so much," says Belby airily, rummaging around in his bag for the recipe. "There wasn't a whole lot of talking involved. A bit of wandwork, some idle threats—"

"Wait a minute, do you mean that Sirius harassed you?" Remus interrupts. He's not entirely sure why he's so surprised, when he stops to think about it: Sirius has been on the rampage lately. "Did you get away from him all right?"

"Clearly," says Belby with a hint of sarcasm. Remus makes a face; he's losing his fear of Belby by the day. "At least, I took steps to ensure that the fourth year who found me will never tell a soul of the condition I was in at the time. No harm done."

He takes a breath, steadying himself, and tries not to consider just how ugly it must have gotten. "Well, whatever he did, I don't want you to listen to a thing he told you. It's none of his business what I can and can't do about my health," says Remus.

"As if I'd ever heed a piece of advice given by Sirius Black," Belby says crossly, but Remus isn't worried, taking it as consent. "If that's all, I want us to try adjusting the quantities of the ingredients this month. We know they're not going to kill you if we don't add drastic amounts of silver, for one thing, and I'd rather play it safe than jump into a whole new recipe and take even more risks until we know we've exhausted the current plan. Considering the kind of hysterical reaction you had the last time, perhaps we should add belladonna extract or take away one of the Alihosty leaves, but in what proportion is the question…"

Truth be told, Remus doesn't have a clue what kind of reaction he had the last time, to put it in Belby's words. The potion hadn't worked; his mind still hadn't been his own; all he remembers is Belby helping him into the castle and leaving him to stumble his way, a bloody and half-unconscious wreck of a man, into the Hospital Wing. But it's all right: no potions master can be expected to get something as complex and uncharted as a lycanthropic cure right on the first try.

Remus trusts Belby with this, and that's more than he can say for anyone else in his life.