When Remus woke up the next morning, Basil was gone.

He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, and the light was oddly bright—he was not used to being in the main ward, where a window with plenty of natural light shone over him. He was used to being in a tiny, dark office with only Madam Pomfrey's fussing to disturb his peace. There was a curtain around his bed for privacy, yes, and he was the only one in the Hospital Wing, but he still felt oddly exposed here.

He turned his head and watched Madam Pomfrey, who was filling up a glass with a thick purple potion. "Good morning, Lupin," she said briskly. "I have a few potions that I need you to take, and then you may leave as soon as I've changed the dressings on your leg."

"Where's Basil?" said Remus.

Madam Pomfrey smiled and handed Remus the purple potion. "Basil? Did you talk to him?"

"We talked a little," said Remus. "I woke him up in the middle of the night."

"He left early this morning. He wasn't that ill; I just needed to keep him overnight for observation."

"Where were you?" said Remus. "We couldn't find you."

"I was taking a bath in the staff bathroom across the school," said Madam Pomfrey. "I don't live in here, you know, and I thought the two of you would be able to take care of yourselves."

Remus laughed a little and downed the purple potion. It tasted horrible, and he nearly gagged. "Yeah, that makes sense," he choked.

Madam Pomfrey patted his hair sympathetically. "So... did you have a nightmare, then?"

"Yeah. But Basil couldn't guess what it was about or anything, so my secret's still totally safe. He even said it was okay that I woke him up."

"That was nice of him. He's a good person."

"He reminds me a bit of James," said Remus. He hesitated to tell Madam Pomfrey this next part, because he knew she wouldn't be happy with him—but he had to talk about it. "He... he wanted to be friends," added Remus cautiously.

Madam Pomfrey sounded ecstatic. "That's good. So now you have..."

"Still four friends," said Remus, cringing. "Peter, James, Sirius, and Hagrid."

"But...?"

"I declined. Politely, of course."

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. "That was rather rude."

"Was it really?!"

"Yes, of course."

Remus sighed. "Well, it couldn't be helped. I know it's terribly selfish of me, but... I'm so tired of coming up with fake stories and excuses and things. It's exhausting, Madam Pomfrey, and it's hard enough to keep the truth from my current friends. And since Basil's ill too, he'll want to know all about what it's like for me... and I'll have to lie. A lot."

"Basil's a good person, Remus. If you really want to tell him the truth, I am certain that I or Professor Dumbledore could convince him to..."

Remus rolled his eyes, because Madam Pomfrey was insinuating he do something that was absolutely ridiculous. How could she possibly suggest that Remus give away his secret? That was madness! There was no way—absolutely no way on planet Earth, Mars, or otherwise—that anyone would just accept what Remus was. Nope. No way. Absolutely not.

"No," said Remus firmly. "I'm not putting that burden on anyone else. And it doesn't matter whether Basil is a good person or not, because there are loads of good people who don't like werewolves." Remus took the other potion that Madam Pomfrey offered him as quickly as possible. "You know, once I got lost on my way to a detention with Professor Questus..."

"What? When was this? Why did Questus put you in detention?"

"Long story. Second Hogwarts moon. I fell asleep in class. But I got lost, and Professor Craff, the Arithmancy professor, found me. And we talked a bit, and she was nice... and then I told her my name, and she wasn't nice anymore, because not all nice people like werewolves."

"Professor Craff is only one person, Remus, and she's a little... misguided."

"There was a lady on the bus once," said Remus, referring to the night, years prior, that he'd been bitten. He'd never told anyone this story before. Should he...? No, he definitely wasn't ready. He couldn't tell the whole thing—not to Madam Pomfrey—note here—not yet. But he'd still cite this specific instance, if only because it was likely to help him prove his point. "There was a lady on the bus who was nice to me and my mum until she found out, and then she was downright horrible. Mum was ready to hit her, I think."

"I'm sorry, but not everybody..."

"And there was a boy in my neighborhood once who wanted to play with me. He'd show up at our door, ring the doorbell, and wait patiently. We were the only two kids in the village. I never left the house, but he kept leaving biscuits on our doorstep and asking if I could play. He was very nice. And then his dad found out, somehow—don't remember how; I was too young—and the next time that I was fetching the post he threw a stick at me. We moved the next day, and I was never allowed outside alone again."

"He was young, Remus..."

"The Healers at St. Mungo's were really nice when I was admitted to St. Mungo's after a particularly bad full moon. They were cooing all over me and patting my head and reassuring my parents, and then they found out what happened. Some of them refused to heal me."

"I..."

"We would hire private Healers sometimes, but they all found out after a bit. None of them came back after finding out the truth—except one, and she only came back to ask my parents very politely to get rid of me."

"Remus..."

"At least she was polite."

"Remus!" said Madam Pomfrey sharply, and Remus shut up. "I trust Basil."

"Yeah, well, I don't trust anyone," said Remus, crossing his arms. "You never know until it's too late, and then... well, it's too late."

"Every single one of your teachers has accepted you..."

"That's their job, though! Children shouldn't have to keep a secret like this. The teachers are getting paid to keep my secret."

"I assure you that they are getting paid for other things as well."

"Still! I would feel bad, and Basil would feel bad, and I don't need him to know, and I don't want him to know and I just want to be Remus, not Remus-the-Werewolf, and I can't trust a teenager with my secret, because it's so very important..."

"Okay!" said Madam Pomfrey, exasperated. "Okay. It's your choice. But I stand by my former assertion: Basil will keep it if we ask him. It'll be good to have someone else who knows what you're going through... at least a little bit."

"I have Professor Questus," Remus argued, and the mere mention of the man inspired such anger in Madam Pomfrey that her eyebrows shot into the air—so quickly, in fact, that they nearly flew off of her face entirely.

"What do you mean?"

"Professor Questus," said Remus. "He's got a curse, too. And he's tired and ill a lot, and he's done enough research on my condition to understand a lot of it. He's like Basil and me, too."

Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows fell and then narrowed. "I suppose," she said.

Remus, once again, wondered what had happened between Madam Pomfrey and Professor Questus, because Madam Pomfrey definitely did not look happy. What could Professor Questus have possibly done to merit such anger? Had he insulted her hair? Tracked mud in the Hospital Wing? Forgotten to knock before entering the Wing?

Well, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered right now was that Remus' imprisonment was almost over: soon, he could go back to the dormitory and see his friends again. "May I go now?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. But be careful. And come back if you're feeling poorly."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey! Thank you, Madam Pomfrey!" said Remus, already halfway out the door.

Finally.

Remus slid into his normal seat at breakfast, and James grinned and patted him on the back. "You're back!"

"Yep," said Remus, smiling widely. "Pete, pass me the potatoes?"

"Where were you?" said Sirius. "James said you were ill." Remus didn't like the way that Sirius' eyes were narrowed, and he definitely didn't like the implied air quotes around the last word.

"I was," said Remus. Peter had still not passed the potatoes.

Awkward silence.

Peter did not pass the potatoes.

"Time for Transfiguration," said Peter abruptly. He stood up and knocked the butter over in the process—James caught it before it hit the floor, but then it slid out of his hands and landed on the ground with a pathetic little plop. James made a movement as if to clean it up, but then he shrugged, leaned back in his chair, and said that the house-elfs would do it eventually.

"What's up with you?" said Remus, still waiting for the potatoes. "All of you. What's wrong? All of a sudden, you're all looking at me funny, and we can't have a normal conversation... none of this is normal, actually, and it's scaring me a little."

"This is normal," said Sirius, but judging from his clipped tones and stiff expression, it most certainly was not.

James slung his arm around Remus' shoulder, and Remus winced as his hand brushed Remus' left shoulder. "Did I hurt you?" James said, and Remus shook his head slightly and frowned. He hated it when James treated him like a fragile, delicate thing. He also hated it when James talked loudly right next to his ear—the boy had no concept of an "inside voice". "We're just tired, I think," James practically shouted. "Maybe we should keep our Forbidden Forest excursions to a healthy minimum, eh?"

"Merlin's beard," whispered Remus. "Don't go shouting our secrets to the whole school. Peter, seriously. Potatoes?"

Silence.

Peter did not pass the potatoes.

"Let's go to Transfiguration," said Peter.

"Transfiguration isn't for twenty minutes," Remus pointed out. "Can't we just talk? And eat, maybe? And... I don't know, pass the potatoes?"

"Yeah!" said Sirius. He pulled James away from Remus and gripped James' arm like it was a lifeline. "Let's talk. Me and James. You and Peter. Me and James will go to the library..."

Remus blinked. "What?"

"So that you can eat. But the rest of us already did, and we don't wanna wait on you."

"I don't have to eat," said Remus earnestly. "Peter and I will come with you. I'll just eat a lot of lunch."

James shoved Sirius away and laughed. "You have to eat, Remus. And Sirius—we're all staying here."

"Don't tell me what to do," said Sirius, his eyes ablaze. "I'm going somewhere else. If you want to eat breakfast with your two best mates, go right ahead."

"You're my best mate, Sirius," said James patiently. "You know that. But I have other friends, too."

"But I need to talk!"

"We talked last night for, like, three hours. Remus was all alone in the Hospital Wing, and Peter was sleeping. I've spent a lot of time with you lately, and I can spend time with my other friends if I want."

There was a long moment of silence—shocked silence on Sirius' end, patient silence on James', and extremely confused silence on Remus' and Peter's. Then the spell was broken: Sirius growled, called James a prat under his breath, and stormed off.

Remus met James' eyes. "What's going on, James?"

"Nothing," said James, taking a seat. "He's been tetchy all day, but he'll come 'round. Come on, let's talk about Shakespeare. Shakespeare's the worst. What's your least favorite part of Romeo and Juliet, Remus?"

"All of it."

James' laughter was too loud. "Ahhh. Funny joke. Good times. You, Peter?"

"I didn't like how Juliet was ill all the time," said Peter with a pointed glance towards Remus.

"I'm leaving," said Remus. He stood up with such ferocity that Bufo, perched on his shoulder, croaked in protest. In through his nose. Out through his mouth.

"You aren't angry?" said James.

"I'm not angry," said Remus. "But I... need to use the loo."

"So you'll be back?"

"No. Then I need to stop by the library."

"You can't skip breakfast, Remus..."

"I'm not fragile! I can survive one skipped meal!"

He walked out of the Great Hall as normally as possible, even though he felt sort of like he was going to faint. The last thing he heard James say was, "You idiot, Peter! Juliet wasn't ill. She had a nanny, not a nurse!"

"Is he gone?" James whispered to Peter.

"I think," said Peter.

"Good. Now he won't protest when I hit you upside the head. You horrible git. It's not his fault he's ill—well, not ill, but something akin to it!"

Peter bowed his head in shame, but James wasn't going to forgive him that easily.

But he tried, and he continued (in a much gentler voice), "Look, I know we're all confused, and we feel betrayed, and we don't know where to go from here, but... but Remus feels the same way! The Secrecy Sensor proved it, remember? He can't talk about it. He really can't! There's something stopping him: fear, maybe... perhaps someone's threatening him... perhaps it's a curse. But it doesn't matter; not really! He's still the same Remus that he always was!"

"But he's lying to us," Peter whispered.

"Maybe that means that we're just not good enough friends," said James. "If we want him to trust us, then we've got to be even better. And making passive-aggressive comments about his health isn't the way to do that!"

"He's not really ill, though. That was a lie, too."

"He's not ill, but he's definitely poorly... for whatever reason. And that's just as bad."

Considering, Peter paused. "Okay," he finally said. "It still hurts, though. I thought I was his best mate. You know... you and Sirius. Me and Remus."

"Some best mate you're being."

James dragged Peter out of his chair, and then they went to go find Remus.

Remus knocked on the door of the Transfiguration classroom, and McGonagall answered promptly. "Lupin? Class doesn't start for twenty minutes."

"Yes, I know... but is it okay if I take my seat early?"

"I suppose." She moved out of the way to permit Remus entry, and he sat down hesitantly. McGonagall frowned at him. "There's a toad on your shoulder. I don't allow toads in class."

Remus groaned. "I forgot he was there!"

"You may want to run him back to your dormitory..."

"I can't! My friends are being weird and I think they're going to find out soon and normally I would go to Professor Questus but he's not here and I need somewhere to hide because I don't want to be around them when they find out and I definitely don't want to be around them right now because they're acting like they hate me and I don't even know why they're angry because I didn't do anything wrong... or at least I don't think I did..."

"Slow down, Mr. Lupin," said McGonagall, her mouth a thin line. "Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?"

"No," said Remus. He took a breath and forced himself to slow his speaking. "I'm not ill; I'm hiding from my friends. The Hospital Wing's the first place they'll look."

"They won't guess that you came here early?"

Remus twiddled his thumbs. "I was... I was hoping that you... could tell them that I'm not here."

McGonagall's frown got deeper. "I am not going to lie to my students, Mr. Lupin."

Remus nodded sheepishly. Of course she wouldn't, because lying was bad. As someone who had been conditioned to lie his entire life, Remus often forgot that.

"But I may be able to help you anyway," said McGonagall, and Remus' heart soared. "Why, exactly, are you hiding from your friends?"

"Er..." Remus wasn't sure how to phrase it. "I'm tired. All the time. I have to keep lying to them, and making up stories, and avoiding them when I'm ill. I'm tired of it. And now they're suspicious... they think something's wrong with me, and they're going to figure it out soon—I just know it! And Peter and Sirius are angry with me, and I don't know why, and I'm too tired to deal with that."

"Tired?" repeated McGonagall, frowning.

"Yeah, tired. What if I'm just tired of them? What if we can't be friends because of me and not because of them? What if I don't actually like them; I just think I do because I've never had friends before? I mean, I really do like them, but I'm so tired, and people aren't supposed to be tired around their friends... are they?" He shifted in his chair, more than a tad uncomfortable. "I didn't want to bother you with this. It's complicated."

McGonagall nodded slowly. "Have you ever considered telling them about your condition?" she asked.

"Telling them?" Remus' mouth dropped open. First Madam Pomfrey, and now McGonagall? Why was everyone trying to get Remus to divulge the one secret that he could not, under any circumstances, divulge? "You can't be serious!"

"Why not?"

"Because then they won't want to be my friends anymore. I'll have to leave Hogwarts!"

"And why would that be a bad thing, if you're so tired of it all?"

Remus paused to think about that. That was a good point, actually—she'd trapped him with his own confession. "I see," he said gravely, supposing that he wasn't that tired after all. It was still enjoyable, being around them, and he might as well enjoy it while he could—just as Questus had suggested. But that didn't change the fact that he was tired right now. He needed a break, even if it was only ten minutes before class started.

"Professor McGonagall," he said, a little panicked. "I think my friends are coming down the corridor..."

There was a knock at the door, and McGonagall stood up to answer it. Remus breathed.

In through his nose. Out through his mouth. In through his nose...

"Hey, Minerva! Is Remus in here? He ran away, I think," said James. Remus inhaled. Sirius was not with James, but Peter was. Remus exhaled.

"He is," said McGonagall, "and he'd like you to take his toad back up to the dormitory." She plucked Bufo from Remus' shoulders and dropped him into James Potter's surprised hands. "While you're up there, please fix your tie. We uphold a very strict dress code here at Hogwarts, you know. And do tell Mr. Black that class will not wait for him to finish sulking."

"How did you know that he was...?"

"He seemed very angry when he came stomping down this corridor about fifteen minutes ago," said McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together, Potter. Now take that toad upstairs before you're late."

"Why can't Remus come do it with us?" James whined.

"I'm helping him with a Transfiguration that he's been having trouble with. Now, up you go. Best hurry."

"Fine," said James. "Bye, Remus! Don't be angry with us!"

Remus heard James leave and set his head down on his desk. "Thank you, Professor," he breathed.

"Of course. Believe it or not, every single twelve-year-old on the planet—with the possible exception of James Potter—needs a break from his friends every so often, even if it only is for ten minutes. Now... let's work on mouse to snuffbox. I told your friends that I was helping you with Transfiguration, and I don't want to lie. Take your wand out, please."

Remus smiled and lifted his wand. He did the charm perfectly, having practiced it on stray mice in his house.

"You've improved drastically since your first-year examination," said McGonagall.

"I've practiced at home. Don't tell the Ministry. But... I can only do it after a full moon. Not before."

"Transfiguration is a very psychological art. It relies a lot on mental state, and your mental state is not as easily controlled as Potter's. You'll have to practice staying calm first."

"Thank you, Professor," said Remus. "I think... I think that's a point to you?"

He was referring to the Competition that he and Professor McGonagall had devised in his first year. She'd been rather uncomfortable around werewolves, and Remus had been rather uncomfortable around her—as a solution, McGonagall had proposed a game of sorts. Since then, they'd awarded each other points for "acting normally" around each other—which, once they'd both become perfectly comfortable, had devolved into awarding each other points for nearly no reason at all.

"And three to you," said McGonagall. "One for coming to me. One for a successful Transfiguration. And take another for not completely losing your head." Remus smiled. A few students trickled in, and McGonagall took a seat at her desk.

Suddenly, James and Peter burst through the door like human hurricanes, utterly frazzled, panting, and red-cheeked. "WE DID IT!" yelled James. "WE'RE ON TIME!"

"You're also shouting," said McGonagall. "Please sit down. Quietly, Potter."

James took a seat next to Remus, panting. "You don't have to hide from us, mate," he said. "Peter and me were looking for you. No one's angry at you."

"Sirius and Peter seemed pretty angry," Remus mumbled.

"I wasn't angry," said Peter, looking a little ashamed. "Just grumpy. James woke me up early to talk about Quidditch, so I was tetchy. Wasn't your fault."

James' mouth fell open. "Oi, don't blame your behavior on me, you traitor!" he said, nudging Peter in the arm. Then he sobered and explained, "Sirius is tetchy, too. He got a nasty letter from his mum and dad."

"Oh."

"Yeah, he's skiving right now. But it's not your fault, and we're not angry at you. You know—maybe next time, you should just assume that we're not angry with you, ever. How could we be? After all, you're the one who's going to help us plan that armor prank that we talked about but never really got to."

Remus rolled his eyes. "...Right." He glanced at McGonagall, whose eyebrows were slightly raised, and smiled.

Suddenly, he felt a tiny bit less tired.

Remus tried to avoid Sirius all evening, but it proved impossible when James physically dragged him to the dormitory to talk.

"Jaaaames."

"Reeeemus. We have to talk. I'm not letting the Marauders split up because everybody's in a bad mood." James did his Secret Marauder Knock on the door before entering—Peter was already in the dormitory with Sirius.

"Okay," said James. "We're going to talk about this. Peter, what problem have you got with Remus?"

"Nothing," said Peter, terrified. "I was just having a bad day."

"That's what I thought," said James. "Sirius?"

"Of course I don't have a problem," said Sirius earnestly.

Earnestly?

Sirius was chipper?

Sirius Black, of all people, was chipper, upbeat, and generally smiles-and-giggles?

That was... odd. Remus wasn't sure how to feel about it all.

"I'm really sorry for making you think I'm angry with you, Remus," Sirius continued, chipper as could be. "I only got a letter from my mum, and I was caught off-guard. But I'm not angry with you. No one is. You're brilliant."

There was a stunned silence. Remus felt his heart blossom into an oddly-shaped flower of sorts.

James grinned. "Knew we'd all come 'round. Perfect. Now let's go outside. You're all going to watch me practice Quidditch, and we're none of us going to be in a bad mood!"

Remus, Sirius, and Peter all groaned good-naturedly, and Remus' heart-flower-thing got a little warmer at their perfect synchronization. He liked synchronization. He liked being like other people. He loved having friends.

And so Peter and Remus watched James and Sirius show off for the next hour or so. Peter was sitting a little further away from Remus than he normally did, but Remus didn't mind—at least they were talking.

Yet part of Remus, deep down, almost hoped that they would drift apart naturally and become less close. If the other Marauders didn't care about Remus anymore, then maybe they'd stop paying attention to him... and they wouldn't figure out his secret... and he could stay at Hogwarts.

But no. Remus didn't want that; he'd miss his friends' company so much that he didn't think he could bear it.

Remus, even though he was surrounded by his friends, felt very isolated... and simultaneously so crowded that he couldn't breathe. He started to feel the same tiredness he had before; it was creeping through his bones—the heavy tiredness that made him feel like sleeping for the rest of his life, reminding him that he wasn't normal and could never be normal; the tiredness that surpassed every speck of joy he had ever felt... tired of lying and sneaking and napping and reading and being alone, but also tired of people like his his friends and Basil and even Madam Pomfrey sometimes. He was tired.

But then he remembered McGonagall's words and resolved to enjoy what he had while he still had it. There was no room to be tired. Not here. Not now. He was at Hogwarts, and he was going to enjoy it... yes, he was even going to enjoy James' loud voice, Peter's odd mood, and Sirius' weirdly chipper attitude. He was going to enjoy it all if it killed him.

He moved closer to Peter, and Peter did not move away.

Yes, Remus was going to enjoy it if it killed him... and honestly, it very well might.

AN: This chapter mostly serves as a set-up for the next one... which will be an absolute ride, let me tell you!