It was September twenty-fourth, and James Potter woke up once again to the sound of someone getting out of bed.
"S'nightmare, Remus," he mumbled, just as he always did. Poor Remus tended to go through some rough nights, and James—even though he didn't know all the details—wanted to help as much as possible.
Granted, he also wanted to find out all the details, even if Remus would hate him forever. But that wasn't important.
"I'm going downstairs," Remus whispered, and James opened his eyes completely and turned to face him.
Remus was ill, and it wasn't inconspicuous in any way, shape, or form. His eyes were puffy, but he hadn't been crying. His face was stark white. His hands were shaking. His lips were trembling. He was almost limping. He was sweating and gritting his teeth and obviously feverish.
"Why?" said James, even though he knew the reason. Remus was ill, and he was going to the Hospital Wing. Or to... visit his mother. There was something so horribly suspicious about the whole thing, and James was going to find out what it was.
"Quiet place to do that essay from Pensley," said Remus. Pensley had lightened the load on homework, but Remus and Peter still worked hours a day on DAD stuff. James wondered why they didn't just... not do it. They'd be in good company, and it wasn't like anything really mattered but O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.
Besides, Remus couldn't do the essay right now. He was ill. He was shaking. He was not well.
He was lying.
"Right, mate," said James, rolling back over. "Have fun."
He heard Remus leave, and then he waited ten minutes. Then he jumped out of bed and shook Sirius awake. "Sirius. Sirius. Sirius."
Sirius opened his eyes. "It's still dark out, mate."
"Oh, please. You're such a morning person that it shouldn't bother you."
Sirius groaned and sleepily pulled some socks on. "It's not morning, though. Merlin's beard, James. This had better be good."
"We need to talk about Remus." James went to wake up Peter, who was snoring. "Up, up, up, up, up!"
Peter awoke with a snort. "It's still dark out..."
"Yep, we've already covered that. Look, lads: Remus is lying."
Sirius rolled his eyes so massively that his entire head moved. "James, we saw his mum. She's not a werewolf."
"No, she's not. But something is wrong with Remus. He looked so ill today, and then said that he was going to work on his essay, which is not something that normal people do when they're ill..."
"He looks ill all the time," said Peter.
"And he works on essays all the time, too," added Sirius with a laugh.
"No, really ill! Really, really ill! He's not going to go work on an essay; he's going to see Madam Pomfrey. I'm sneaking down to the common room, and he's not going to be in there. Just watch."
James left his friends in the room and bounded down to the common room. No Remus. He ran back upstairs with the speed of a Seeker. "No Remus! He's not there!"
"So he wanted to work on his essay, but then he changed his mind, felt ill, and went to the Hospital Wing," said Sirius.
"It doesn't add up!" said James, pacing now. "Look, I'll start from the beginning. Someone get me some parchment."
Peter obliged, and James started to write.
1. He says he goes to visit his sick mum.
2. His mum has never, ever looked ill, even when we woke her up in the middle of the night.
3. He has some type of reaction whenever someone mentions werewolves. He knows one. He had a history.
4. Whenever he leaves, he looks ill. Then he's gone for a few days, but he's not in the Hospital Wing. And he comes back with physical wounds.
5. Why would he be ill when he's going to visit his mum? Why would he comes back with physical wounds?
6. It's not worry. We've seen him worried and it never makes him ill.
7. He has a superhuman sense of hearing.
8. But he's not half-werewolf.
9. He's close with all of the teachers. He meets with them a bunch after class.
10. He misses a lot of school.
11. He disappears on the full moon.
12. He's a great bloke, but he worries too much.
13. He pauses and looks like he's lying a lot.
14. i.e. he IS lying.
15. HIS MUM IS NOT A WEREWOLF. His dad isn't, either!
James ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "It doesn't add up. None of it does. I know there's a common thread—and I bet it's super obvious, right in front of my face—but I just can't find it."
"Looks all right to me," said Sirius, peering over his shoulder. "He's explained all this, James. He's not lying."
"He is lying," said James stubbornly. "And I'm going to prove it. Watch, he's going to be gone for the next few days. And when he comes back, there are going to be bandages on his hands. And maybe his neck. And probably other places, too, but his robes cover them up. And he'll be limping, or else he won't use one of his arms—or maybe both!"
"Well, thanks for waking me up to have this conversation that we've already had twenty times," said Sirius. "I'm going to the common room to play Exploding Snap. Wanna come?"
"Sure," said James.
James Potter was clever. James Potter was brilliant. James Potter was always right, and James Potter was going to find out what was wrong with Remus Lupin if it killed him.
"Do you see Remus? I don't see Remus," said James self-righteously over dinner the next day. "Why? Because he's not here, just like I predicted. He's been gone all day. And it's a full moon. It always is."
"It's not always a full moon, mate," said Sirius. "You need to listen more in Astronomy. Sometimes it's a crescent. Sometimes it's a gibbous..."
"You know what I mean. It's always a full moon when he disappears!"
"Yeah, because his dad works for the D.R.C.M.C. He's booked on that day, so Remus needs to stay home to take care of his ill mum. He's explained all this, James!"
"Doesn't explain why Remus is always ill on the full moon, though. He's got to be half-werewolf."
"His mum's not a werewolf. Neither is his dad," said Peter.
"Maybe an uncle. Maybe his grandma was."
"Your theories are getting more and more stupid," said Sirius. "Give it a rest, James."
"No!" said James. "You'll see. There's a common thread. There's an explanation. There's a..."
He looked up from his ranting, and Sirius and Peter were gone. James sighed and ran after them out of the Great Hall.
"Do you see Remus? I don't see Remus," said James again over breakfast.
"Shut it, Potter," said Sirius.
The owls swooped across the room, and Bluebottle dropped a small package into James' lap. "Look! This'll prove it!" he said, deftly unwrapping the package. It was buzzing violently. "A Secrecy Sensor!"
"What's that?" asked Peter, leaning over the table to see the mysterious object.
"It's broken," said Sirius. "Look, it's already buzzing."
James examined the Sensor with a frown. "It detects lies. And I'll fix it. You'll see."
"You'll fix it, you say?" said Sirius slyly. "But the Secrecy Sensor is buzzing. Does that mean you won't fix it?"
"Shut it. I'll fix it."
"Still buzzing..."
"Shut your dumb mouth, Sirius! I said I would fix it."
"Sure you will," said Sirius. "Come on, let's go to Herbology."
"James!" said Sirius, storming into the library. "We were looking all over for you! Why are you in here? You're never in here! It's the library, and you hate being seen in the library! You said it's for swots and girls, remember?"
James put down the book, adjusted the floppy pink hat on his head, and gave Sirius a triumphant smile. "Ah, it's fine. I'm wearing my Library Disguise, so no one will recognize me. Besides, I'm being productive—I've read up on Secrecy Sensors, and this one isn't broken! It's only buzzing because there's too much interference—people tell white lies all the time, and this is a crowded school. It'll work in a secluded area."
"Yeah? Well, if you're so clever—"
"I am, thank you—"
"Then where are we gonna find a secluded area without Remus suspecting?"
"It won't work in our dormitory; the Sensor's radius is too large. But... it'll work in the Forbidden Forest!"
"So you want to drag Remus out to the Forbidden Forest and interrogate him?"
"Pretty much," said James with a winning smile. "Come on, let's go practice Quidditch."
"Okay, Sirius, I put a Silencing Charm on the Secrecy Sensor so that no one can hear it buzzing. You can put it in your pocket—since I know you won't believe me if I do it—and if it buzzes, then Remus is lying. Got it?"
"Got it," said Sirius, rolling his eyes. "And if he's not, then you let the matter drop already, okay?"
"Sure," said James. "But I'm right. James Potter is always right. Here's the plan: once we get to the Forbidden Forest, I'll say something along the lines of 'I think it's raining', and if the Sensor buzzes—like it's supposed to—just nod at me. That'll prove that it's working properly. Okay?"
"Fine," said Sirius.
"Good. I'm going to ask him questions very inconspicuously. He won't even know that he's being interrogated."
"Okay."
"But first we have to wait for him to come back. I bet he'll be limping."
"James," said Sirius, rolling his eyes. James didn't quite understand why Sirius wasn't as excited about this as he was. Even Peter was interested. "Just... please leave him alone if it's normal, okay? Which it will be. He's only Remus. There's nothing suspicious about him—there can't be, because he's a good person and a good person wouldn't lie about something so terrible."
"Unless there's something even worse that he's trying to conceal."
"I seriously doubt that," said Sirius.
"What could be worse than a dying mum?" said Peter.
"Just leave him alone after this," said Sirius. "I'm getting bored of all this Remus-Is-Hiding-Something-Terrible nonsense."
James shrugged. "Fine. Sure. I will. I just want to be certain."
Except he already was.
Sure enough, Remus showed up in the dormitory a few days later—and sure enough, he was limping. James shot Sirius a look. Sirius merely rolled his eyes again. He'd been doing that a lot lately.
"Welcome back!" said James.
"Thanks, James." Remus still looked exhausted and ill, but it was a different type of exhausted and ill—it was the type of exhausted and ill that happened after a bad thing, not before a bad thing. James had seen Remus take enough stressful tests and exams that he knew what anxious-ill Remus looked like as opposed to relieved-ill Remus. But Remus really did look happy—albeit incredibly exhausted.
James started to have second thoughts. After all, Remus was ill. What if he didn't want to go out into the Forest tonight? What if he just wanted a quiet night in? James wondered if he should just let the matter drop for now...
Nah. Remus loved the Forbidden Forest. Besides, he was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors didn't like quiet nights in, did they? James knew he didn't.
And James was a Gryffindor who was about to uncover a big mystery, no matter how Remus felt, so he said, "We're going to the Forest tonight, Remus. Wanna come?"
Remus, apparently, was a Gryffindor too, because he set down his bag with sparkling eyes and said, "Absolutely. Picnic again?"
"Nah," said James. "We're just gonna walk around."
"The Marauders—just walking around?" Remus laughed and shook his head. "Has the world gone mad? Yeah, James, that's fine with me. I love walking."
"We'll have a grand time, old chap," said James with an air of dapperness.
"Yeah, I'm sure we will. Us and our walking. Who are you and what have you done with James Potter?"
"I know for a fact that it'll be fun," said James, "and James Potter is always right."
That night, he went over to Remus' bed to wake him up. Then he hesitated. He reached out a finger and flicked up the edge of Remus' sleeve.
His hands were bandaged, and the bandages were wrapped around the palm... extended up to the wrist... James wondered where they ended. He blew on Remus' face a little, and Remus made a face and turned his head—still sleeping. His collarbone was just visible, and it was covered in scars—some of them were white lines, barely visible against Remus' pale skin, and some were fresh and recently scabbed over. What had happened to him? Was this all from the windscreen? Or... a werewolf relative? Remus made a small noise and curled up a little more, and James saw a jagged, ugly scar just visible above the fabric of his nightshirt on his left shoulder. That didn't look like it was from a windscreen. James touched the fabric, intending to move it aside...
Then Remus sat up as fast as lightning. His knees snapped to his chest, and he hugged them for dear life. He stared at James with wild eyes.
"Oh," said James. "Good morning."
Remus didn't say anything. He was shaking.
"Nightmare?" said James.
"What did you see?" asked Remus in a low voice. It would have been intimidating if Remus' voice hadn't been shaking so much.
"Well," said James. "I saw you sleeping. Then I saw you having a nightmare. Then I saw you sit up. Now I'm seeing a very paranoid madman."
Remus' breathing slowed. "Ha-ha, very funny. Why did you—why did you have to go and touch me?"
"'Cos I thought it would wake you up."
"Well, it did, and it also scared the life out of me."
"Yeah, I could tell. You almost kicked me."
"Sorry."
"S'nothing. Time to go."
Remus wiped his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Give me... give me... a second."
"Sure thing."
"That was a pretty bad nightmare."
"About your mum again?"
"Yeah," said Remus, still shaking violently.
But James, as much as he loved his parents, didn't think that a dream about anyone peacefully dying of illness would trigger a jerk reaction and tremors. Remus looked way more afraid than sad.
No, James didn't believe anything that Remus Lupin was saying... but he would know the truth soon!
"I think it's raining," said James.
Remus stuck his hand out. "I don't think so, James."
Sirius nodded almost imperceptibly—a signal that the Sensor was indeed working.
"Guess it was just a bit of dew, then."
Remus hopped over a stick and winced. James wondered how he'd injured his leg. Was Remus really keeping a werewolf company? He looked paler than normal, and he was having trouble keeping up with the rest of them (though that wasn't completely out of the ordinary—Remus was nearly always either injured or tired. But still, this was worse than usual. It got like this every time Remus returned from Wherever-He-Was).
"So, were you visiting your mum again?" James asked Remus, slowing down so that he could fall into step with Remus and Peter. Sirius did the same.
"Uh-huh," said Remus. "But you know I don't like to talk about it."
James glanced at Sirius, whose brows were crinkled. If James knew Sirius (which he did; probably even better than he knew himself), then the Sensor had just buzzed. James smiled.
"Sorry... but sometimes I feel a little... separated from you," said James. "You've just got such a complicated life that you don't often talk about. I know everything about Sirius and Pete, but I don't know much about you at all." That was the truth.
"I don't think you need to know my backstory to know me," said Remus quietly. "But if you have questions, I can answer them."
"Okay!" said James. He threaded his arm through Remus'—partially as a comforting gesture, and partially because Remus half looked like he was going to faint. "Tell us one more time you don't have a terminal illness or whatever."
"I'm don't," said Remus.
"Just wanted to make sure," laughed James. "Can you tell us more about the windscreen accident? It sounds cool."
"It wasn't cool. It hurt. The car crashed into a tree, and the windscreen shattered. Mostly on the left side of the car, where I was sitting. I was in the front with my mum, so I got the worst of it. But I healed up after a few weeks, mostly. It hurt for a long time."
"And the dog bite? That must've hurt, too."
"Yep. Merlin's beard, I hated that dog."
"You just called it Dog?"
"Mm-hm."
"That explains it, then. He probably hated you, too—you know, for the dumb name." James squeezed Remus' arm a little more tightly, and Remus winced and clamped his jaw shut.
"All right?" said James.
"Fine," said Remus.
James glanced over at Sirius, whose face was a wooden mask.
"Your mum's really ill, isn't she?" said James.
"Yep."
"I'm sorry," said James, and it was the truth. Whatever Remus was too scared to tell them—it was sure to be awful, and James really was sorry that he had to go through it. But he wasn't sorry for finding out the truth, because he was James Potter and he hated mysteries. "Tell me one more time that you're not related to any werewolves."
"James, give it a rest. I'm not related to any werewolves!" said Remus, and he jerked away from James with a mildly irritated expression (and, for Remus, that meant that he was furious). "I've no affiliation to werewolves whatsoever. I wish you'd stop talking about it!"
James glanced at Sirius again, and Sirius' brows were crinkled again. There was no self-righteous look on his face. James tried to hide his smile—he'd been right, he knew it. Remus had a werewolf relative: James was certain, and James was always right. "Yeah, okay, I believe you," James said, which was a lie. "Tell us about your illness, then. We want to help." That was the truth, and James grabbed Remus' arm again as if to affirm that he truly meant it.
"There's no way to cure what I've got," said Remus. He was tensing. "I'm ill; that's all there is to it. Just the typical things. Headache. Nausea. Pain. I have to go away sometimes and get it under control—it's impossible to attend class when I'm having a flare-up. But I can deal with it. It's not so bad."
"That's good," said James, which was the truth. "We'll stop pestering you about it now," said James, which was a lie. "I fancy another fake duel," said James, which was the truth. "And I hope you don't hate us for all this," said James, which was also the truth.
Remus visibly relaxed and tore his arm from James' grip (was he wincing again?). "Duelling? You told me we were just coming out here to walk," he said triumphantly. "I knew you wouldn't be able to walk the whole time." James rolled his eyes, and Remus grinned. Then he said, "'Course I don't hate you. You're good friends, you know, even if you are too nosy for your own good."
James hoped with all his heart that the Secrecy Sensor had not buzzed at that.
James waited until Remus was fast asleep to don the Invisibility Cloak and drag Peter and Sirius out of the dormitory. He found a nice empty spot, shrouded by a couple of suits of armor, to start interrogating Sirius. "So?" he said impatiently.
Sirius was silent.
"So?" he said again.
"I don't get it," whispered Sirius. "You were right, James."
James puffed up. "Of course I was."
"But not about everything," added Sirius. "Still... I don't get it. The Sensor was working; I know it was. But... it buzzed at nearly everything he said."
"Good," said James. "Give us the rundown." He knew that Sirius' memory combined with his own was probably good enough to recount the entire conversation. Peter was just a spectator at this point, but James didn't mind. The more people to witness his brilliant deductive skills, the better! "All right. I'll start us off. Just tell us what things he said were lies—I'll help you out."
"Okay."
"First, he said he was visiting his mum."
"Lie. But the next part—'I don't like to talk about it'—that was true."
"Oh," said James. If Remus wasn't going home to visit his mum, that certainly put a damper on things. But no—James already knew that his mum wasn't a werewolf. It had to be another relative. So it really did make sense, and James Potter was always right.
"Then he said, 'I don't think you need to know my backstory to know me,'" said Sirius, "and that was true. But the next part, 'If you have questions, I can answer them,' was a lie." Sirius considered for a second. "You know, maybe he really can't talk about it. If we never know, would that be so bad? He was right, you know—we don't need to know his backstory to know him."
"We do," James insisted, "because maybe we can help him. Whatever it is. Anyway. Then he said that he didn't have a terminal illness."
"That was true," said Sirius.
"Good."
"But the whole windscreen story wasn't. It was all a lie, and so was the dog. I guess he never really had one. Why would he lie about that?"
"Knew it," said James again.
"And then you asked him if he was okay, and he said he was fine." Sirius paused again. "That was a lie, too."
"See? This is why we have to help him. Next I asked him... oh, that's right. I asked him if his mum was really ill."
"Lie," said Sirius, even more bewildered. "That was all a lie. James, I hate this. Why did we do this?"
"It's not the Sensor's fault, it's Remus'," said James. "Moving on. Then I asked him about werewolves. Asked him if he was related or affiliated."
"That part was weird. He's not related to any werewolves, so you were wrong. But he is affiliated with werewolves. And he really does wish that we'd stop talking about it, but I think we already knew that."
Another theory hit James right on top of his head—one that had been bouncing around his brain for weeks—but it was too horrible to properly dwell on it. He dismissed it before it even fully materialized in his brain. "That's weird," he agreed. "But maybe it's a werewolf family friend that he's keeping under control. I could still be right."
"You're jumping through hoops, mate. But... yeah, I guess that's the only thing that makes sense at this point. Ugh, I hate this." Sirius buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Merlin's beard. I feel so betrayed."
James wanted to comfort Sirius, but he was too impatient at the moment. "Next I asked him about his illness, remember? What did the Sensor say to that?"
"Okay, that was hands-down the weirdest part. He said there was no way to cure it, which was true. Then he said he was ill, which was a lie. Then he started listing his symptoms—and all of them were true! That doesn't even remotely make sense."
"What about the part about him leaving to get it under control? And the part where he can't attend class when he's having a flare-up?"
"Both true. But the next part—'I can deal with it; it's not so bad'—that was a lie."
Silence. The theory bumped against James' head with even more persistence, but he still refused to acknowledge it.
"What about the last part?" asked Peter quietly. James jumped. He'd almost forgotten that Peter was there. Peter looked quite distraught—in fact, James was pretty sure that he was crying. What a girl.
"Yeah," said James. "The part about us being good friends."
"It was true," said Sirius.
There was more silence, and James finally acknowledged that horrible, horrible theory.
Remus was a werewolf.
Remus Lupin was a werewolf.
It made so much sense.
He was affiliated with werewolves, but not related to one. His name had to do with wolves. He was always gone on the full moon. His senses were inhuman. He always came back with scratches—from someone trying to restrain Remus, James thought, not from Remus trying to restrain someone else. The teachers either kept him after class ten times a year or couldn't stand to look at him. He'd left the room very quickly when James had brought in wolfsbane for his birthday, which he'd intended for Remus to use on his mum. He had nightmares of—James wasn't sure. Probably silver or wizards who wanted to kill him or something. He had symptoms of illness, but he wasn't technically ill himself.
James hadn't done much research on werewolves for fear of being seen in the library (putting on his Library Disguise was a bit of a hassle), but he was about to. He was about to learn everything he could about Remus, because Remus had confessed himself that it was bad, that he couldn't deal with it, that he wasn't fine...
James Potter was brilliant at many things, and friendship was one of them!
"Let's wait," said James, more to himself than anyone else. "Let's wait until we're certain. We'll observe him and think on it, okay?" Sirius had been pretty hostile towards werewolves earlier, and James didn't want to tell him just yet. And Peter was a stupid fraidy-cat on occasion, so James didn't want to tell him, either.
He'd tell his friends eventually, of course—but for now, he wanted to keep it to himself. He wanted to plan. He wanted to research. And then maybe he'd put together a seventeen-point presentation to convince his friends of Remus' humanity, and then they'd all be the best of friends once again and live happily ever after.
Yes, that would happen eventually. But not today.
"The Sensor was working," Sirius mourned. "It buzzed at all the right times when you were talking, James." He looked up, his eyes hopeful. "Perhaps it doesn't work on Remus? Maybe it's part of his illness?"
Sirius was rationalizing. Sirius was clever, James knew, but the theory really was too terrible to think about. Sirius was doing exactly what James had been doing and rationalizing—coming up with little explanations, denying even to himself. It was so easy to rationalize, and certainly more pleasant than the growing lump in his chest and the voice in his brain screaming "REMUS IS A WEREWOLF".
"Maybe," James allowed, "but we'll think on it."
"We'll think on it," Peter repeated. "I like him anyway, you know. He's a good person, even if he does have a strange backstory and a big secret. Maybe he really can't tell us."
"Which is why we have to figure it out on our own," said James, even though he'd already figured it out. "Because whatever it is, it's hurting him, and we're good friends."
"We're better than good friends," said Peter. "We're Marauders."
"You sap," said Sirius. James smiled at him, and Sirius brightened a little.
"All right, Marauders," said James, "let's go back to our secretive friend of ours and act as normal as possible until we know for sure."
"Let's," said Peter. "Please don't scare him off. I need him to get good marks."
James laughed at that. "I think we all need him for one reason or another."
And if the Sensor had been working properly amongst the interference, it most certainly would not have buzzed at that comment.
James pulled back Remus' curtains after his friends had all gone to sleep.
He was snoozing silently, his mouth slightly open and his head resting on top of his hand. The covers were pulled up to his neck.
He didn't look like a werewolf.
James knelt next to Remus and tilted his own head, trying to see inside Remus' mouth. There were no fangs. He looked at Remus' hand, protruding from under the covers. There were no claws; only lots of scars and bandages. Remus was just... Remus. He didn't look like a werewolf at all: only a twelve-year-old boy who was a little small for his age and read a lot of books.
He couldn't possibly like being a werewolf, could he? It was probably terrible, if it left him with so many scars. And the way he reacted whenever someone mentioned werewolves—was he scared of werewolves? Was he scared of himself?
James stared at Remus a little bit longer.
He clipped his nails once a week. He was a vegetarian. His family were poor. It all made so much sense, and at the same time... it made no sense at all. Why was he so ill all the time? What were the scars from? James had thought that he knew Remus, but he didn't know anything about him.
Remus moved his hand a little, and James jumped. But Remus was still sleeping, so he relaxed and continued to stare.
Maybe it was John Questus who kept him under control! That would explain a lot, actually—why Remus had spent so much time with the git, why they were still in touch—an Auror could keep a werewolf under control, right?
A werewolf.
Remus was a werewolf.
James squinted and tilted his head even more. Remus looked nothing like a werewolf. He acted nothing like a werewolf.
So was he?
James only knew one thing for certain: if Remus was a werewolf, then werewolves weren't at all like people said they were. If Remus was a werewolf, then James' maniacal social-justice-loving father had been right about werewolves that one time: they deserved rights, too. If Remus was a werewolf, then Sirius and Peter would just have to accept him, because they were Marauders, and Remus was Remus.
Because if the media was right about werewolves, then werewolves didn't own woolen socks. Werewolves didn't help people do schoolwork. Werewolves weren't patient and kind and funny. Werewolves didn't help prank people. A werewolf might bring a hexed trunk into school, but the hexes would probably be deadly. Werewolves didn't tell their friends off for breaking the rules. Werewolves didn't have friends.
And, the more James thought about it, the more he realized that Remus did not fit the media's description of werewolves. Werewolves didn't mouth the words to themselves silently when they read. Werewolves weren't bookworms. Werewolves didn't raise their hands in class and write essays and read textbooks for fun. Werewolves didn't wear jumpers. Werewolves didn't scrunch up their shoulders when they were nervous. Werewolves weren't scared of anybody. Werewolves wouldn't recite poetry and know Latin, just for fun. Werewolves didn't do any of that.
But if the media was wrong... then maybe they did.
James tilted his head a little bit more at Remus' sleeping form, and then promptly fell over because he was leaning sideways too far. Remus stirred, but did not wake. Sirius, however, did.
"I sort of hate him now," said Sirius quietly, staring at James.
"I don't," said James. "And we shouldn't. Not until we know the full story. Innocent till proven guilty and all that."
"I think we just proved him guilty," said Peter. James hadn't realized that Peter was awake, too. "I thought we were friends."
"We are," said James firmly. "You are. He is. And all that."
Peter sat up and rested his head on his hands. "I guess. But it's sad that he lied so much."
"Sad," repeated James quietly. "Yeah. It's sad. But maybe not for the reasons you think?"
"I dunno," said Sirius. "I'm going back to bed. It's creepy that you're staring at him, mate."
James laughed and crawled back into bed himself. "Stuff it."
James Potter was a Gryffindor. James Potter was a Quidditch player. James Potter did not fear anything (except maybe cockroaches). James Potter was not afraid of werewolves, least of all Remus.
Besides... it was kind of cool.
A werewolf roommate. A werewolf best friend. No one could bother James when he had a powerful creature of the Dark on his side! James thought of the jokes they could make, the places they could go, the things they could do...
He grinned into his pillow. The Marauders just got a whole lot more interesting!
AN: And here, ladies and gentlemen, is the moment you've all been waiting for! I've published it early because I'll be busy tomorrow, and I didn't want you all to have to wait any more than you already have :) Let the dramatic irony commence!