Chapter 38: A Wolfy Friend

"Do you want to work on the Care of Magical Creatures' essay?"

"Finished it yesterday," Cressida sings, flipping through the Daily Prophet.

Sirius huffs through his nose. "Transfiguration homework then?"

"I did it while you had detention."

"Charms-"

"Lily is currently proofreading mine." Cressida grins behind the paper, sharing a humoured glance with Remus who sits on her left. Folding the paper back up and placing it on the table, she smiles at Sirius who sits opposite her. His cheek is pressed up against his eye from the ball of his palm. "Why are you so desperate to do schoolwork, anyway?"

"Because I'm so behind it's not funny!" he cries under his breath so his voice doesn't travel down the Great Hall. "And I hate doing schoolwork by myself."

"Merlin, Padfoot I can still help you with it," she taunts as Remus snickers to himself. "I'll pretend to write. How about that?"

"Now you're just being rude," he mutters. "You called me Padfoot. That's the first time you've done that."

Cressida hums in deliberation. It is the first time she's called him by his nickname. "I guess they're just finally catching on to me. I still like Sirius though. We should work on the Care of Magical Creatures one first. It's due on Tuesday and Monday night is a full moon. No last-minute efforts."

Sirius shrivels his nose, leaning heavier into his hand. "Do you think we could claim some sort of compensation or extra marks for having a werewolf friend that we help every month?"

"No," Remus answers him with a swift and mirthful tone. "I think what they would give you for your efforts is a sentence to Azkaban for your little illegal tricks."

Sirius turns his frown around. "What's life without a little risk?" he drawls with a smirk, dropping his hand from his face. "Although can't say I fancy the idea of Azkaban. I reckon I'll have too many family relations in there soon enough."

Cressida snorts, digging her fork into her bacon. James is at a Prefect's meeting and Peter is with a morning study group for Herbology. "I'd break you out," she grins at him. "Cause, what's life without Sirius Black in it?"

Sirius beams, clapping towards her. "See, you get it! She's a real friend, Moony."

Remus only nods sarcastically. "I'll mourn your life from afar. I'm not overly fond of Dementors."

Xx

Cressida sits at the very end of the large lounge in front of the Gryffindor fireplace. The snow melted a few weeks ago to welcome the green spring grass and the trees are showered once more in leaves. Unlike last Spring where it was warmer than usual, it seems the winter breezes are more stubborn this year and one's cheeks tingle when you step outside.

On her lap is a pillow, and perched on that pillow is the head of none other than Remus Lupin. He had been exhausted and grouchy all day, so as soon as she offered him a spot to lie down; he took it, not even bothering to look up towards his dorm where his bed lay waiting. The full moon is coming tonight. And if the events of that day were foretelling of the night to come, they weren't good signs. Remus had even snapped at her during lunchtime when she accidentally took his glass of juice instead of her own. It had startled her and the rest of the Marauders into silence until James was brave enough to break it. Sirius, James, and Peter were currently in Honeydukes. They snuck out of class early to go, restocking their stash of sweets and chocolate for Remus.

Remus was more like this commonly when he was younger and still learning to deal with his transformations. From what he told her, it was hard to understand what he was feeling, so it came out as anger and frustration, but promised them repeatedly that he would never mean it. It got better, over the years, especially after they became Animagus and he learnt that the nights wouldn't end in violent harm to himself from being alone. But some days, it just becomes too much.

She strokes his hair unconsciously, her mind focused on trying to send James a telepathic message to bring her some sugar quills. He brought his journal quite literally for that purpose so she could send a message to him if something they need popped to mind, but her own is sitting in her room and she can't make herself leave Remus alone.

Bastian Jacobs sits on the large, cushioned chair nearest to her side of the lounge, a book open, leaning against the arm of the chair and another sitting closed on his lap to act as a table for a piece of parchment. "Whatcha go there?" she questions softly.

Bastian looks up at her with surprise. "Oh, um, some Defence Against the Dark Arts homework. I have to write a foot on Boggarts."

"Do you want some help?"

He looks down at his near-empty parchment then back to her. "Are you sure?" Cressida murmurs her assurance, keeping her voice low and guides the topics of his work. Within an hour, he's written over a foot and still has a conclusion to go. "Thank you."

Cressida shrugs, glancing down at Remus' still sleeping frame. "It's no problem. I would have never got through here without some help. It's a disadvantage sometimes, learning from the ground up. Most purebloods and Half-bloods have at least some understanding of what these different things are. They know what to research and where to look for information. But us Muggle-borns aren't given that. We have to learn everything from scratch."

Bastian nods coyly. "It definitely feels like that." A pause between them grows. Cressida doesn't think much of it at first, but then she notes Bastian's narrowed gaze at the boy in her lap. "Can I ask you something?"

"James always says that it's stupid to ask to question someone," Cressida muses, more for her own sake. "But yes."

"Is Remus a werewolf?"

Cold fear strikes through her bones. What usually soft disposition she has with the young boy evaporates into a hardened glare. How would he even know that? Did someone tell him? Are there rumours going around that she hasn't yet heard? Snape. Fucking Snape-

"I just noticed a few things is all," Bastian adds at her stony silence.

"I think you should learn to keep your mouth shut," Cressida's steady but low voice warns. "And no, he's not. But that's a dangerous accusation."

Bastian's throat bobs and he nods feverishly, eyes dropping to his lap. Cressida snaps her sight away from him and back down to Remus, focusing on the repetitive motion her fingers are making. After a moment of thick tension, she hears the young Gryffindor pick up his belongings and leave the bottom floor of the Tower. Her blood boils at the accusation—however spot on the boy may be. People knowing about his lycanthropy only puts him in further danger. There are horrible people in the world that hunt these types of people down. About thirty years ago, there was a cult-like group that went around on full moons, slaughtering werewolves like pigs on a farm. And Cressida doesn't doubt that some of its members still linger. Though she wouldn't be against Fenrir's death.

Xx

Cressida holds Wormtail closer to her stomach, eyes pointed at her own feet to keep them off the toes of the two other boys under the Invisibility Cloak with her. Against all instinct, she had offered to be the one to carry Peter in his rat form, wanting to get over her sickly gut feeling that came upon seeing the grey hair, worm-like tail and tiny pale feet. She's regretting the decision.

Soon enough though, she lets him to the ground and he escapes under the bottom of the Invisibility Cloak. He scampers across the grounds, down the grass and towards the Whomping Willow that sways wildly. Remus is already waiting for them at the end of the walkway, arms folded tightly over his chest, leaning against the brick post. James pulls the Cloak off of them, tucking it into a little hiding spot that they've found between some small boulders.

Cressida takes two steps to reach the tall boy's side, placing a gentle hand on his arm. Remus doesn't even look at her before he twists his shoulder, pulling his arm out of her touch. Her heart drops, but she knows that it is nothing personal. It can just be hard to remember that.

"Oi, Moony," Sirius calls, "what's got your socks in a twist, hey?"

Cressida half-turns back to Sirius who is sauntering towards them with a taunting demeanour. "Not now," she mouths to him, stepping away from Remus.

Sirius barely shakes his head at her. "No, you've snapped at us all today. Aren't you bloody grateful that we're helping you? Or would you prefer us to leave you alone tonight?" His words are taunting and sneering. Pent up anger that Sirius hasn't learnt to toss away like she has.

"Padfoot," James warns, stepping to Cressida's side. The Whomping Willow comes to a standstill. Sirius stares at James. "Not tonight." They make haste towards the tree, Remus silently leading them. He stays metres ahead, never looking back to even see how far behind they are. Cressida is the last to slide down the entrance, boots scraping against the dirt and her palms running along the walls to keep her balance. Arms are waiting for her at the bottom. "Was he like this when you were with him alone?" James questions into her ear as he catches her unneedingly.

Cressida glances at Remus, who is already making his way through the tunnel. She shakes her head. "He slept, mostly. I think something's just on his mind that he's not telling us. We shouldn't badger him tonight about it, it won't do us any good."

"Tell that to Sirius," he mutters, turning around to walk behind her. Cressida only smiles tiredly over her shoulder but is met with his intense stare at her.

"What?"

His lips rise. "Nothing."

Cressida bites her bottom lip. "It's never nothing," she whispers. "I can't believe you still are going to answer with that."

"No, it's not," he agrees with a slow breath of air. "But it's fun knowing you don't know what I'm thinking about."

"Is it the same every time or always something different?"

The strange topic of conversation is a pleasant distraction from the bleak environment and long night ahead. "Same thing. Every single time."

"You've been doing it for two years now."

"I know."

"And is it not the fact that I make you nervous?"

"It's not the main thought that comes to mind. But that was a part of it."

"Guys!"

James and Cressida snap from the small world. Remus stands ahead of them, hunched over and panting. He's already changing. James rips his sleeve back, looking at his watch. "Shit."

Knowing that they have no choice, Sirius is the first to change into his Animagus form, growling and crouching his front downwards. He takes slow steps back towards James and Cress. Peter is around somewhere, but his small form hides amongst the shadows. Cressida changes next, shortly followed by James, whose antlers barely fit even in the relatively wide tunnel.

Remus' clothes shred and his skin turns a stark beige with a thin lining of fur. Bones in his spine protrude and his legs become gangly and long. Sirius jumps forward, snipping at the werewolf in encouragement to continue down the tunnel. Usually the werewolf is placid around them, but Remus' agitation transferred in the transformation.

The werewolf swipes back at Sirius, his paw spread like a web. The next sound to echo down the tunnel is a sharp whimpering. The black dog falls to its hind, twisting around and scampers out of the werewolf' reach. Along his face are three scratches, flooding with fresh blood. Sirius is lucky it wasn't his eye.

The werewolf leaps forward again, but Cressida leaps forward at the same time. She meets the nocturnal creature over the top of Sirius, using her haughty weight to push him back. Her arms reap scratches, but the werewolf earns just as much back from her.

They were unprepared for tonight. Unprepared for the werewolf to mirror Remus' emotions. They've gotten so used to a placid creature that fighting it doesn't feel like fighting Remus. It feels like she's battling a monster.

Sirius jumps out from underneath her, his jaw clamping around the werewolf's leg. It howls, forgetting Cressida at that moment and scurries backwards, shaking its leg and swiping back down at Sirius' head. The dog, wiser this time, releases his teeth's hold and retreats, letting the werewolf escape their attack. Its dark and beady eyes scan the tunnel, bony ribs pressing against the skin with heavy pants. Outnumbered and already wounded, it uses all fours to run down the rest of the tunnel.

Cressida looks behind her, finding a frantic stag who can't pass her due to its size. He prances from hoof to hoof, his small black nose flaring.

They have a long night ahead of them.