Madam Pomfrey was fussing... but Remus shouldn't have been surprised. Madam Pomfrey fussed a lot, and for some reason, Remus' bleeding leg brought out the worst in her. Remus wasn't sure why. It was only a bit of blood.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you go so early," she said, her tone so cross that it could ward away a vampire. "You're staying overnight, Mr. Lupin... no, not because of the leg, but because you genuinely need more care in general. Don't bother arguing. You're thin as a rail, and you're stressed to your bones. And, now that you have an excuse to stay longer, your friends won't suspect at all—so now is the perfect time for a longer-term hospital stay." She gave Remus a Look that meant her decision was final, and Remus groaned. She shook her head to shut him up. "If you complain, then you're staying even longer. What were you doing to reopen the wound like that?"

It was a good thing that Remus was good at lying, because he was pretty sure that Madam Pomfrey would blow a fuse if she knew he'd been overexerting himself in the Forbidden Forest. "I told you," he said impatiently, "I cut it on something. Maybe the bedpost or something. I took the Pain-Relieving Potion yesterday evening, like you told me, and I just didn't notice."

"The Potion dulls pain; it doesn't eliminate it!"

"You know I have a high pain tolerance."

"High pain thresholds help you handle pain, but they don't eliminate it, either! You should have noticed!"

"Yeah, well, I didn't," said Remus crossly. "I don't know why."

"I'll tell you why," said Madam Pomfrey as she stepped away from Remus' leg—she'd been able to heal the wound, mostly, but it was still leaking a bit. "You didn't notice because it had been hurting all day. You'd been in agony all day long. You should not have left the Hospital Wing."

"I was fine," said Remus, and Madam Pomfrey dropped a cap into the jar. Remus didn't even care. "I'm always sore afterwards. My right leg is always worse. It was all totally normal. This is my life, and I can handle pain."

"Don't care," said Madam Pomfrey. "Here at Hogwarts, you have good medical care, good friends, and good teachers—yes, even Professor Melody is accommodating when it comes to your condition. Refusing to take what's offered to you is nothing short of ridiculous!"

Remus paused, considered, and then laughed. "You sound like Professor Questus," he said.

Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes and turned around, but Remus caught a look of pure, unadulterated anger in her eyes before she did so. Remus had expected annoyed amusement, so the outright anger was undeniably odd.

Madam Pomfrey had never liked Professor Questus much (and vice versa), but Remus had always thought that the rivalry between them was... well, fierce, but also kind of funny. He liked to annoy Madam Pomfrey by mentioning Questus, and he liked to annoy Questus by mentioning Madam Pomfrey. They always acted annoyed, and it was funny.

But now Madam Pomfrey was genuinely upset, and that wasn't normal nor funny at all.

Remus leaned back into his pillow and thought about what could have caused such a reaction from Madam Pomfrey. Had Professor Questus stolen her favorite frock? Had he called her names? He couldn't even begin to imagine, but he tried anyway for the next twenty minutes. And, in the middle of imagining a very soap-opera-esque instance that involved Madam Pomfrey, Professor Questus, and Professor McGonagall... Remus fell asleep.

Madam Pomfrey had told Remus to stay in the main ward ("It's your own fault you're here, and it's not obviously lycanthropy-related, so of course you don't get your own room," she'd said). It was weird, being in the main ward instead of Madam Pomfrey's office—he felt so exposed. Madam Pomfrey had come up with a lie about how he'd caught a virus, so he wasn't in danger of anyone finding out... but still, it was odd.

The night was long. There was a sixth-year only a few beds away—from his scent, Remus recognized the boy as a frequent occupant of the main ward—and the undesired company made it very difficult for Remus to sleep. When he finally did fall asleep, he looked to his right and saw a window—which was very odd, since he'd picked the bed furthest from the window on purpose. All of a sudden, there was the sound of splintering glass... and there was a werewolf... and Remus watched it attack the sixth-year boy before it turned on him... and he tried to run, but he was stuck in his bed... and he was sobbing and then everything erupted in pain. His mum was telling him that it would be all right, but Remus' father didn't seem to agree...

And then the scene shifted, and he was attacking his friends...

"All right, there?"

His eyes flew open, and the perfectly intact face of the sixth-year stared back at him.

A dream.

Remus drew a shuddery breath and looked the sixth-year up and down, just to make sure that he was still okay and not torn to bits by a wayward werewolf. A quick glance around the Hospital Wing and the unbroken windows further soothed his fears, and he wiped a few tears off his cheeks (now thoroughly embarrassed). "Did I wake you?" he whispered.

"Well, yeah," laughed the sixth-year. "But it's okay. You know, I used to have nightmares, too, when I was your age. Wanna know how I got over them?"

Remus nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He doubted their experiences were similar at all.

"I played Quidditch. I'm Beater for Hufflepuff. Trust me, an iron ball flying at your face is far more frightening than anything I could come up with. I started having nightmares about Bludgers... and then, once I got to be a really good Beater, I could just knock 'em away."

"It's not the same," murmured Remus, and it really wasn't.

"Well," said the sixth-year, frowning. "Still. You just have to figure out how to beat it in real life—then it'll be easy to do it in your dreams."

"Some things can't be beaten."

"You're right, but Bludgers certainly can be."

Remus didn't really feel like responding to that, so he changed the subject. "Where's Madam Pomfrey?" he asked.

The sixth-year shrugged. "Probably sleeping or something. Maybe caring for someone else. Maybe she's in her office."

"No, she's not," said Remus immediately, and then remembered that humans couldn't smell other humans quite like he could. The boy had no way of knowing where she was and wasn't, and it was probably very suspicious that Remus was so certain of the fact. "I mean, I don't think so. Wouldn't she have woken up?"

"True. You were kinda loud. Crying and all that."

"Sorry," said Remus.

"Nah, it's okay." The sixth-year stood up and walked over to Remus' bed. "May I sit?"

"...Sure." Remus pulled his knees up to his chest, and the sixth-year sat on the other side of the bed.

"I guess it's just us, then!" The sixth-year smiled at Remus, and Remus tried and failed to smile back. "And it's probably gonna be a long night, because my head hurts like you wouldn't believe, and you look too terrified to sleep a wink."

Remus nodded. He didn't know what else to do.

"What are you in for?"

"Virus." Yes, virus was usually a good response. It covered most of Remus' frequent symptoms, including his typical pallor and the remaining sweat on his face from the nightmare. "And also, I... cut my leg on something. A... hex. It was a bit of a weird hex, so I have to wait for it to heal."

"Ah. I botched a potion. Made my head hurt like it was splitting in half. Pomfrey says that my brains would've turned to mush if I'd waited any longer, but she fixed it. I'm sort of thinking she was exaggerating. Still hurts though." He said all this quite proudly, like it was a very exciting thing to survive a botched potion.

"That's too bad," said Remus, not knowing what else to say.

"I'm Basil."

"Remus."

"Oh! I've heard of you! Everyone's talking about you and your friends, you know. That thing you pulled last year with the guitar... brilliant. And you call all the teachers by their first names? I hear they've given up and stopped giving you detention. I have a little sister in first year this year—she's in Gryffindor. Her name's Saffron. Do you know her?"

"I think," said Remus. The name sounded familiar, but he didn't pay much attention to people outside of his circle of friends. He'd probably match name to face if he saw her. But he did recognize this boy's scent, at least, and he supposed Saffron's would be similar... a hazy face floated to the front of his mind: a curly blonde in Gryffindor who sometimes talked to Lily Evans. Yes, he remembered Saffron now. "Yeah, I know her. We've never talked, but she seems nice enough."

"I'll be sure to tell her you said that," said Basil. "She worships James Potter, you know. She's going out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Beater, like me," he said, even more pride filling his tone. "She'll be great. Anyway, she says that you and your friends are really funny."

"We do try," said Remus.

"So... tell me about yourself," said Basil. "I'll go first, actually. I'm half-blood—Mum's a Muggle; Dad's a wizard. I'm gonna write textbooks when I'm older, but they'll be amusing textbooks; not like the rubbish we read here. On Herbology. Sorta have to, with a name like Basil." He chuckled. "You?"

"My family's the same," said Remus. "Muggle mum, wizard dad."

"Cool! Where'd you grow up?"

"We moved around lots. But my mum's Welsh. Dad's English."

"Ah. I'm from..."

"London," said Remus, smiling. "Your accent's rather obvious."

Basil laughed. "Perhaps. So what do you want to do when you leave Hogwarts?"

Remus shifted uncomfortably. "I haven't thought about it a lot. I really just want something... secure." Then he almost laughed. Like that was going to happen.

"Security can be boring," said Basil with a wave of his hand. "Be a dragon hunter or something. Hey, do you want to go find Pomfrey?"

"What do you mean? Like, leave the Hospital Wing? We'll get in so much trouble."

"Some Marauder you are," chuckled Basil—and then, at Remus' stricken expression, he said, "Ah, don't look so surprised; everyone knows about your little group name. Potter can't stop bragging about it. So... whadd'ya say? Wanna explore the castle? Look for Pomfrey? It might be fun."

Remus didn't really want to risk the wrath of Madam Pomfrey... but he absolutely needed to get out of the Hospital Wing. He couldn't bear to look at the windows any longer.

"Okay," he said. "Sounds brilliant."

Basil leapt out of bed and pulled Remus with him. Remus winced. "My leg, Basil..."

"Ah, sorry. I'll be careful. Come on!"

Remus shook his head in amusement and followed Basil out of the infirmary and into the darkened corridors.

"Shut that light off," one of the portraits muttered, but Basil brandished his lit-up wand, happily ignoring them.

"The great thing about all this," said Basil, "is that we've got an excuse. If we say we're only looking for Madam Pomfrey, then we don't get into much trouble at all!"

"You sound a bit like James," said Remus. "Or Sirius. They say things like that all the time."

"Do I really?" said Basil excitedly.

"Well, yeah. Talk about breaking rules and you're bound to sound like one of my—" Remus was cut off when a very familiar scent wafted through the air... velvety footsteps echoed... Remus froze. "Cat," he whispered.

"My name's not Cat. It's Basil."

"No, cat. Mrs. Norris."

Basil blanched. "What do we do?"

"Shhh."

They pressed their bodies against the wall and waited in complete silence. A couple of seconds passed.

"I don't see a cat..." Basil began.

"Shhh!"

Mrs. Norris stalked down the corridor and looked directly at them. Then she ran off, her claws clicking against the floor.

"Fiddlesticks," said Remus angrily. "She's off to tell Filch."

"How did you know she was coming?" asked Basil in obvious awe.

Uh-oh. "Er... practice. James and Sirius and Peter and I sometimes go out here to... you know, midnight walks. We annoy the portraits. Stop by the kitchen. Go to the Forbidden Forest..."

"You've been to the Forbidden Forest?!"

"Don't tell anyone," said Remus hurriedly. "You can't prove it, anyhow."

"I wasn't going to tell anyone! That's so cool! Tell me everything!"

"No time," said Remus, pulling him around the corner just as Filch walked past. Remus raised his wand and cast a Disillusionment Charm, and he and Basil blended into the wall nearly perfectly. Remus stopped breathing, and so did Basil.

"I don't see anything, Mrs. Norris," came Filch's whiny, gravelly voice. Shivers ran up and down Remus' spine at the sound of it.

Mrs. Norris came around the corner and looked at them directly, and the shivers in Remus' spine reached a violent crescendo.

The light of Filch's lantern spilled around the corner, and Remus did not dare breath—or even blink—as Filch rounded it... and looked right through them. "There's nothing there," Filch grumbled. "Come on, away to bed with you, Mrs. Norris. I'm tired."

They rounded the corner again, and Basil opened his mouth to speak; Remus covered Basil's mouth with his hand until Filch's and Mrs. Norris' scents had faded completely. Remus still did not breathe, and his lungs were beginning to ache something awful.

"Okay," Remus finally said, removing his hand from Basil's mouth. "They're gone."

"You're an expert," said Basil fervently. "A pro. Wow. That was fun!"

Remus smiled and led him down the corridor a little more, and then he removed the slightly-flimsy Disillusionment Charm. "That wasn't a very good Disillusionment Charm, I'm afraid, but it held all right. And it was enough to fool Filch, anyhow."

"Disillusionment Charms aren't till fifth year!" said Basil. "And that one was far better than any I could cast. How did you...?"

Remus had practiced a lot, and he'd seen Madam Pomfrey do it as they walked to the Willow countless times. "It's necessary when I'm sneaking out with my friends," he said, which was sort of true.

"That's so cool," said Basil again. "Hey, where are we even going?"

"Er... we're looking for Madam Pomfrey, right?"

"I didn't actually want to look for Madam Pomfrey," said Basil with a shrug. "I just wanted to get out of there. Can I tell you a secret?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to," said Remus, who knew all about secrets.

"No, I want to, but you can't tell anyone. If you do, then I'm telling people about the Forbidden Forest."

"That's not much of a threat," Remus snorted. "Chances are, James has already told half the school. But if you want to talk about your secret, I promise I won't tell a soul—no blackmailing necessary."

"Brilliant," said Basil. "Erm... the thing is... I didn't really drink a botched potion. I was in the Hospital Wing because I'm ill."

"With what?" said Remus. Their whispers echoed around the empty corridors, making everything seem even more secret and sacred than it already was. It was the perfect place to tell secrets, Remus thought... but he'd never tell his own, not in a million years.

"I've got some sorta magical blood disease. Makes me feel ill every so often, and it's never going to go away," said Basil conversationally. "It's not super bad; I can usually walk it off. But Madam Pomfrey makes me come down anyway whenever I faint... which happens a lot."

So that was why Remus had noticed Basil in the main ward so many times. "I'm sorry," he said, and he was. He knew what having a chronic illness was like, for the most part. And, now that Remus thought about it, he remembered Dumbledore saying that there were a few other students in the school with chronic diseases—Basil, then, must have been one of them. "Is Pensley making you meditate, then?"

Basil went white. "How did you know about that? Who told you? Was it Saffron? I made her swear not to tell anyone..."

"No!" said Remus. "No, it wasn't. Can I tell you a secret, too?"

Basil nodded, and Remus fumbled for a way to tell his own secret without actually telling his secret.

"I'm ill, too," he said. "Genetic disease from my mum's side. She's even worse than I am. Dumbledore made me do the dumb meditation thing, too."

Basil's mouth dropped open. "You, too?" He grasped Remus' hands excitedly. "This must be fate or something! Wow! How come I've never seen you in the Hospital Wing?"

Well, Remus definitely had to lie about this particular subject. He didn't want Basil sneaking into Madam Pomfrey's office to come see him when he was supposed to be quarantined. "I... I don't often have to go to the Hospital Wing. I can handle it. It makes me ill... but not ill enough to... see Madam Pomfrey. I just look tired a lot, and can't run around... and things." He'd have to write all this down in his novel of lies—A Documentation of the Life of Remus Lupin—and he yanked his hands out of Basil's (Basil was still grasping them with fervor) for fear of Basil seeing the wounds on them. "But I do have to leave a lot to visit my mum. She's not doing well."

"Is she dying?" said Basil.

"Probably."

There was an amicable silence as they walked. Remus didn't know where they were walking, and Basil didn't look like he knew, either... but Remus didn't mind. Basil understood—well, sort of—and Remus felt an odd camaraderie with the sixth-year Hufflepuff, even though Remus was lying about nearly everything.

"So if your mum is dying, then you're dying, too. Right?" asked Basil.

"No," said Remus. "No one knows a lot about the disease, but chances are that my mum has it worse than I do." He paused. "Don't tell anyone... but I probably won't live for a very long time. My friends don't know. And it's not like I'm dying or anything, I just don't know if I can... live into old age. With this." That part was true, at least. Werewolves didn't typically live for a very long time, not unless they were "embracing their nature", like Greyback and his ilk. Remus would much rather die than do something like that.

Basil's mouth dropped open. "I'm the same!" he said. "Like, I probably won't live as long as... Dumbledore, or people like that. Since I'm not healthy. I'm only gonna get worse." He rolled his eyes. "Mum and Dad and Saffron are so worked up about it all the time, but..."

"It's just your life," said Remus. "And a person can get used to anything, really."

"Yes!" said Basil. "Exactly! It's like... I've got time, haven't I? It's not like I'm dying right now. I might not even. Not till I'm much older, I mean. I could live to a hundred and fifty; it's just not likely. And it's not like I need people wasting my precious time fussing over me. It gets so tiring." His grin faltered. "Honestly, I was sort of excited about the meditating—and I do like it a little bit. It's quiet and relaxing, and it really helps. But, all the same... I'm getting tired of special treatment."

"I know!" said Remus, even though he didn't like the meditation one bit. "I hate special treatment. I don't often hate things, but..."

"I hate it, too," said Basil, bobbing his head. "I hate all of this. I hate people treating me like some sort of china doll, thinking I'm going to faint or drop dead any second—I mean, yeah, I might faint, but it's the principle of the thing!"

"What is up with that?" said Remus. "I'm not fragile! I've been living with this as long as I can remember. I hate being called fragile."

"My sentiments exactly!"

They were near the Astronomy tower now, and Basil pulled Remus out the door and onto the tower. The sky was clear, and Remus could see the waning moon. He tried not to look at it. The weather was beautiful for this time of day, if not a tad chilly. Remus wasn't wearing shoes—only socks—and he could feel the cold stone through the fabric. He looked up at Basil, who was smiling at the sky. "Here," said Basil. "This helps."

"What do you mean?" said Remus.

"The quiet. It helps." Basil threw out his arms, narrowly missing Remus, and Remus giggled. "Saffron and I have got a bit of a complicated situation," he said. "My aunt and uncle are homeless, and they have six children. They're coming to live with us until they can get back on their feet."

"Really?" said Remus.

"Yep. My house is always loud and crowded. I share my room with two eight-year-olds."

"Oh," said Remus. He couldn't imagine.

"Didn't get much better when I came to Hogwarts. Hufflepuffs are so loud. Are Gryffindors loud?"

Remus grinned. "My friends are, at least."

"Yeah," said Basil with a laugh. "Anyway, it doesn't help that everyone always hovers over me. So I'm always looking for places to hide—to be alone. And it's quiet out here. The stars are nice, too." He turned to Remus, eyes sparkling. "Want a list of the quiet places? I have one!"

"No," said Remus slowly. "That's never been my problem. Finding quiet places, I mean. I'm an only child, and I've never had friends before Hogwarts... I had to stay inside a lot, you know, because of both my illness and my ill mother. I'm used to quiet, so I like being around my friends—being around people in general. But I'm not used to crowds. Don't like those one bit."

"Well, this is perfect!" said Basil. "You're quiet, and you don't hover or fuss. I like talking to you. And I'm not quiet! So we both have what we want!"

"It is pretty perfect," Remus agreed. He and Basil sat on the stone floor of the tower and stared at the stars for a few minutes. It was quiet and companionable.

"It's always hard, going back," said Basil conversationally as he swung his legs. "Back to the people and the fussing..."

"...and the questions..."

"...and the noise..."

"...and the meditating and the Hospital Wing," finished Remus.

"But I think we should go now. They'll panic if we're not there."

"I think I can go back to sleep, anyhow," said Remus. "I'm sorry for waking you."

"And I'm sorry for troubling you with my troubled life," said Basil, helping Remus up.

"Likewise. If I wake you again..."

"Then I'll talk obnoxiously until you come back to your senses. And if I faint in the corridor..."

"Then I'll talk obnoxiously until you wake up."

They shared a smile, and then they walked back to the Hospital Wing. Basil did not faint, and Madam Pomfrey was still missing.

"Do you want to meet up and talk sometime?" said Basil, sitting on his own bed by the window. Remus tried not to think of nightmare-Basil, covered in his own blood and a werewolf's tooth marks. "We can be friends. You're a lot younger than me, but I'm used to spending time with people younger than me. And you're pretty cool! Saffron'll be jealous."

Remus hesitated.

He was going to have to leave Hogwarts soon—his friends were close to the truth; he just knew it. And the more friends he had, the more dangerous it would be.

Remus wanted to be friends with Basil. He wanted to sit on the Astronomy Tower and talk about being ill. He wanted to sit and be quiet with him. He wanted someone to chat with who wouldn't pity him and really understood what it was like, because Remus so desperately needed someone who understood, at least a little bit...

But he couldn't.

He couldn't because he was a werewolf, and werewolves weren't supposed to have a lot of friends. He couldn't, because every person trying to find out what was wrong with him was a terrible risk that Remus couldn't take. And the biggest reason of all was that it was so tiring, coming up with lies, and Remus was so tired. He couldn't make another close friend. He couldn't bear it.

"I'm kinda busy with my own friends," said Remus, trying for a laugh. "They're a bit of a handful. But if we ever meet up in the Hospital Wing again, I'd be happy to sneak out with you."

Basil looked disappointed, and Remus' heart broke. "Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. I have a bunch of friends too, anyhow. And they're a handful, too."

"Okay," said Remus.

Basil collapsed back into his pillow, and Remus listened to his breathing. He didn't let himself start to drift off until he was sure that Basil was asleep.

He hated being a werewolf.

AN: I blinked, and then the weekend was over.