Remus' friends were incredibly nice to him for weeks and weeks, and Remus was suspicious.

It wasn't that his friends were usually mean or anything, but... this was getting ridiculous. They were far too nice. Scarily nice. Horribly nice. Awfully, terribly nice. Remus liked nice, but this was bordering on pity, and Remus did not like pity.

One night, he woke up at about midnight after an ugly dream of killing his friends under the light of a full moon: sweat that felt like blood was dripping from his neck, tears that felt like blood were dripping from his eyes, and there was real blood somewhere—he could smell it—but he didn't know where. He sat up bolt upright, panting and not-crying (not crying. His eyes were merely watering), and noticed that both James and Sirius were at his bedside.

Both of them? That was Suspicious Activity Number 1. Usually, it was just James who bothered to comfort Remus—Sirius was a little more impatient, so he'd usually stuff his head under a pillow and complain loudly about how loud Remus was being.

"I'm fine," Remus mumbled. "M'fine, jus' a nightmare..." Was the blood smell just left over from his dream? The image of blood dripping from Sirius' neck still burned in his eyes, and his friends' screams still burned in his ears, and blood still burned in his nostrils, so what if it hadn't been a dream?

"Just a dream," said James, and Remus relaxed.

"Are you still using the Pensieve that Dumbledore gave you?" asked Sirius. "It seemed that the Pensieve helped with the nightmares, at least a little."

And that was Suspicious Activity Number 2. Remus knew Sirius, and Sirius liked to make jokes whenever he was even slightly uncomfortable. Where was the biting comment about Remus' messy hair and askew bedsheets? Why wasn't Sirius calling Remus a "girl" and a "baby"? Remus' eyes were watering (okay, maybe he was crying a little), and they were boys, so teasing seemed like the natural thing to do for Sirius Black. And where was James' insistence that Remus was a "fragile china doll" (which was James' favorite thing to call Remus, and Remus' least favorite thing to be called)? Who were these people, and what had they done with Remus' friends?

"Yeah, I've been using the Pensieve," Remus mumbled. "Hasn't been working recently. I think... I think I'm just stressed." The blood smell was definitely real. And it was definitely his. And he thought he could taste it, too...

"Your finger," said James suddenly. "Lumos."

A bit of light spilled onto the bedsheets, making Remus blink. He looked down at his finger—sure enough, it was bleeding profusely. Remus jumped at the sight of blood covering his hand. He could definitely taste it. He'd probably bitten his finger during the nightmare. That was horribly embarrassing (although it would be more so if Remus' friends knew what he was and what he could do, so Remus was thankful that they did not).

Sirius stumbled back, and Remus apologized profusely. "Yikes," said James. "What is with you and blood?" Suddenly, James' face colored a little. "I mean... what I... you were bleeding the other day, and... it was a joke. I'm not saying... yeah. There's nothing with you and blood. You're just a normal kid. Haha."

"You're bleeding?" asked Sirius, still a bit green. Sirius, for all his constant bravado, was afraid of blood. "Are... I mean, are you okay?"

"Not a big deal," promised Remus—and it really wasn't. It hardly hurt at all. Still, he needed silver and Dittany; his finger wasn't going to stop bleeding otherwise... but the bottle was still in the pockets of his school robes.

Suddenly, Sirius thrust Remus' school robes towards him. Remus blinked. How had he known? "Here," said Sirius. "I noticed that you sometimes use the ointment in the pockets. For... your blood disease."

Remus internally thanked Sirius for providing him with such a good lie. "Yes, that's it," he said weakly. "My blood disease. The ointment helps a bit. Erm... Sirius? I know that my robes are red and it'll blend in, but... my hand is bleeding, and I don't want to get blood on my robes. Would you... get it for me? Left pocket?"

"Of course!" said Sirius, pulling out the small bottle of silver and Dittany with frightening dexterity and speed. "Want me to uncork it for you, too?"

"No, thanks," said Remus. "I can do it myself." There was probably already dried blood on the bottle from previous incidents, and Remus didn't want Sirius to see it. He uncorked the small bottle and dabbed a bit on his thumb, and the bleeding slowly ceased. "I'm sorry, Sirius, I know you don't like blood..."

"Perfectly okay!" said Sirius, a little too chipper.

"We're happy to help!" said James, equally chipper. "Want us to make your bed again for you?"

"I can do it myself," muttered Remus. "I'm going to... well. I'm going to wash my hands. Be right back."

He walked to the sink, closed the door behind him, and rinsed his hands. Then he cupped them tightly and drank as much water as he could. It wasn't enough, so he brushed his teeth. Twice.

When he was satisfied, he wandered back into the bedroom. Sirius and James had made up his mattress with pillows and blankets and even Remus' favorite childhood toy: Baynie the stuffed shark. Remus smiled, a little confused (and also sort of miffed that they'd made his bed despite Remus' request that they didn't). Why were they being so... well, they were usually nice, but this was... wow.

Remus went to thank them, but both James and Sirius were already in their own beds—curtains drawn—and the only sounds in the room were four hearts beating, four people breathing, and the erratic flipping of pages coming from James' four-poster. That was odd. James didn't usually read unless there was something to read about (like Quidditch. James loved reading about Quidditch).

Yes, it was probably Quidditch. Mystery satisfied, Remus lied down and went to sleep, and there were no more nightmares that night.

Pensley was absolutely insufferable, but that was nothing new.

"Today," she said, "we'll be doing a dramatic reading of Julius Caesar! I want you all to split into groups of three."

The Marauders looked at each other awkwardly. There were four of them.

Remus figured he'd be the odd one out—after all, his friends had spent a lot of time without him over the summer. But, to his surprise, James and Sirius both walked over to him immediately. "Remus. Our group?" James asked.

Remus looked at Peter. "What about...?"

"He'll be fine," said James, but Peter didn't look fine. He looked rather hurt and left-out, actually.

"Maybe we should split into two groups," said Remus. "Me, Peter, another person... you, Sirius, another person. Then none of us will have to be alone. You two can be together, of course, and I'll be with Peter..."

"Fine," said James. "But I think it should be me and you, Remus, and then Sirius and Peter."

That was undeniably Suspicious Activity Number 3. James and Sirius were attached at the hip. There was never any question as to whom James liked best (it had always been Sirius), and there was even less question as to whom Sirius liked best (James Potter all the way). They were always partners; always a group; always best mates. James leaving Sirius to pair with Remus? That was unthinkable.

Remus expected Sirius to be offended, but Sirius didn't seem to be—he merely froze, and a queer expression shadowed his face. "No," he said. "It should be me and Remus, and you and Peter."

"Trust me," said James. "It should be me." He shot Sirius a pleading look. "I think it would be good."

"No," said Sirius slowly. "Because I... know." There was an odd pause, and then Sirius added, "I know that me and Remus would work well together, I mean."

Remus gave them both a quizzical look. "This is a joke, right? You two are best mates. Since when am I so popular?"

Sirius looked him dead in the eyes, which made Remus slightly uncomfortable. "Since I found out," said Sirius. Another odd pause. "That you were so cool, I mean."

"Er. Surprised it took you this long," quipped Remus. "But...?"

Suddenly, Pensley clapped her hands. "We need Peter to join a group. Apparently, the number of children in this class is not quite divisible by three. Who's willing to be in a group of four?"

Remus felt a rush of annoyance at Pensley for not counting the students in the class before assigning groups of three, but he knew that he was being unreasonable. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. He shot his hand up along with James and Sirius, and Peter joined their group gratefully.

The damage had been done, however. James and Sirius had picked Remus over Peter, and Peter was feeling very left-out. Remus scooted his chair closer to Peter. "I wanted to be with you, anyway," he whispered, and Peter beamed.

"All right," said James. There was a squeak as James' chair moved closer to Remus'. There was another squeak as Remus moved further away. There was another squeak as James moved closer again, and then there was the noise of rushing air as Remus gave up with a sigh. "There are four people in this scene. That's perfect. Peter, you be 'First Commoner'. Sirius, you can be 'Second Commoner.' Remus is 'Flavius.' I'm 'Marcellus'."

"You only want to be Marcellus because of his monologue," said Sirius, and James waggled his eyebrows in confirmation.

"First Commoner only has one line!" complained Peter.

Remus shrugged. "I'll switch with you."

"No, he can't," said Sirius. "You know all the big words, and Peter doesn't. Let's go, Flavius-Remus. Your line first."

Remus sighed. "Hence. Home, you idle creatures, get you home: is this a holiday? What? Know you not, being mechanical, you ought not walk upon a laboring day without the sign of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?"

Peter blinked. "I... what?"

"Just a complicated way of saying... it's a workday, why are you on the streets instead of working? And where do you work in the first place?"

"Eloquent," snorted James. "Peter, your line."

Peter straightened up. "Why, sir!" he said with far too much enthusiasm. "A carpenter!"

Then he put down his book, because that was his only line.

The next few lines between Marcellus and Second Commoner that ensued made Remus laugh so hard that he nearly fell off of his chair. James and Sirius were so perfect together, even though Remus didn't particularly enjoy Shakespeare. "Indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles!" shouted Sirius.

"What trade, thou knave?!" shrieked James. "Thou naughty knave! What trade?"

"If you be out, sir, I can mend you!"

"Mend me, thou saucy fellow!"

"Why, sir, cobble you!"

Remus was laughing so hard that he could barely get out his next line. "Thou art a cobbler, art thou?"

The other groups were reading with a dull monotone, but Remus' group was barely hanging on to sanity. Remus lost it completely when James stood up on the desk for his monologue. The class went silent as James Potter started shouting his lines at the top of his lungs. "And do you now strew FLOWERS in his way that comes in triumph over Pompey's BLOOD? Be GONE! Run to your houses, fall to your KNEES, pray to the gods to intermit the PLAGUE that needs must light on this ingratitude!"

Suddenly, James extended a hand towards Remus. It was his line next, and James obviously wanted Remus to get up on the table next to him.

Remus sighed. To heck with it.

He took James' hand and stood next to him. "Go, go, good countrymen, and for this fault, assemble all the poor men of your sort!" The class was still listening, even though Remus' voice was much quieter. Sirius was standing on the table now, too, doing some sort of weird dance that Remus couldn't quite identify. Peter jumped on the table as well, copying Sirius.

It was chaotic. It didn't make any sense. It was stupid.

But Remus was almost having fun, though his heart was pounding at the prospect of speaking in front of the class. "...if you do find them decked with ceremonies," he finished, his voice trailing into nothingness.

"May we do so?" said James. "You know it is the feast of Lupercal."

"These growing feathers plucked from Caesar's wing will make him fly an ordinary pitch—who else would soar above the view of men and keep us all in servile fearfulness?"

"The end!" cried James. "Thank you! Thank you all! You may leave your babies in the atrium, and I shall kiss each and every one of them! Autographs permitted—seven Galleons each! Many thanks, my loyal fans!"

Pensley started to clap. "Oh, wonderful! Wonderful! Amazing!"

James swept into a deep bow.

"Fantastic!" continued Pensley. "Phenomenal! Glorious! You should be actors, the four of you! Especially you, Leonardo! Your line nearly brought me to tears!"

Peter beamed, and James took another bow.

Remus didn't much like Pensley, and he didn't much like Shakespeare, and he definitely didn't like acting, speeches, talking in front of the class.

But he liked being accepted, and he loved his friends. The good outweighed the bad, and that was always a wonderful thing.

The Marauders were playing Gobstones on the floor of the common room. It was raining, so the common rooms were very crowded. James had stolen the cushions from the couch, much to the rest of the House's dismay, and he'd built a sort of fort around the Marauders so that they could play in peace. Remus had never liked crowds, and he suspected James was doing it just for him. That was unsettlingly and unnecessarily kind, but Remus didn't have the guts to argue.

"What do you think of vampires?" asked Sirius all of a sudden.

"Who, me?" said Remus.

"Yeah."

"Your go, Peter," said James loudly. "Let's talk about something else, yeah, mate?"

"James," hissed Sirius.

"Sirius."

"I know," said Sirius, giving Remus a pointed look. "I know that this is an important question, I mean."

"Why would it be important?" said James, casting Remus a different kind of pointed look. "Species isn't important. Isn't it, Sirius?"

"But—"

"But...!"

"But!"

"I've never met a vampire," said Remus quickly, hoping to avoid an argument. His friends' current actions definitely counted as a Suspicious Activity, but Remus didn't know what number it was—he'd lost count. Probably Suspicious Activity Number 4,003 or something.

"But what do you think of them?" pressed Sirius. "Vampires, I mean. Do you think they're monsters or something?"

"'Course not," said Remus. "Professor Questus said that they can control themselves—despite their odd cravings—and that they're proud of their heritage and culture. Why would they be monsters? Those are both solid qualifications for Being status."

"Hm," said Sirius. "What about werewolves?"

Remus froze. Did Sirius know? Did he know that Remus was a werewolf? Did he suspect?

No. Sirius didn't know, because he was still sitting next to Remus and playing Gobstones with him. There was no way he'd do that if he suspected—so Remus was still safe. He was certain of it.

"Werewolves are monsters," said Remus, because he was certain that this particular affirmation would lead his friends further away from the truth. Why would they suspect someone who hated werewolves of being one himself? "Yeah, complete monsters, I think. I've never met one. But they're different from vampires, remember? They can't control themselves. And we've all heard about... about Greyback. Werewolves hurt people."

The look on James' face was very queer, and Sirius dropped his Gobstone. Those constituted as Suspicious Activities Numbers 4,004 and 4,005, respectively.

"So... you don't think they're people?" asked Sirius slowly.

"Nope," said Remus. "Can't be. My family sort of know firsthand."

"You... do?" asked James, and there was a look in his eye that Remus couldn't quite identify.

Remus furrowed his eyebrows. "Yeah, duh. My dad works for the D.R.C.M.C. There are werewolf attacks in the news all the time, and Dad has to go help. Werewolves constantly attack people, so they can't be good and kind, can they?"

"What if they can't control themselves?" said James quietly. "What if they don't want to be werewolves?"

Remus' heart fluttered a bit. That was a bit of an odd view for a Pureblood wizard; most of them hated werewolves. This was good. Perhaps—it was a long shot, but perhaps—there was hope. Perhaps his friends would let him leave Hogwarts quietly and promise not to tell anyone... but Remus wouldn't get his hopes up, because hope was a dangerous thing.

"I'm not offending you, am I?" Remus asked, remembering James' rights-for-all father. "Since your dad argued for werewolf rights once..."

"No," said James. "You can tell us what you think."

Why were they being so weird and somber? Remus laughed a little, if only to lighten the mood. "If werewolves can't control themselves," he said, "then they should do humanity a favor and do themselves in before they hurt someone." He pushed his Gobstones to Peter with a little too much force, suddenly feeling quite grumpy. "Here, you can have mine, Pete. Win the game for me. I'm going to the dormitory to revise for a bit."

"Okay," said Peter. He wasn't being nearly as weird as James and Sirius, Remus noted.

Remus ran up to the dormitory, placed Bufo on his lap, mashed his face into his hands, and mumbled all the memorized poetry that he could remember for the next half-hour. The rhythm was comforting, and Remus needed a bit of comfort.

James Knocked on the door.

"Come in," said Remus dully.

"Hey," said James. He sat at the foot of Remus' bed. "What's bothering you, mate?"

"Nothing."

"You can tell me," said James. "You can tell me anything, you know." A pause. An obvious pointed glance. That was Suspicious Activity Number 4,006. "I mean it, Remus. Anything."

"Mum's ill again," mumbled Remus. "Really ill. I might have to go back soon." His mum was becoming his excuse for everything, but he was too tired to come up with something better. Besides, his friends were being weird enough that he was allowed a bit of suspicious behavior, wasn't he?

"Oh," said James, nodding eagerly. "Okay."

There was a pause.

James twiddled his thumbs nervously (which was a bit strange for the ever-confident James Potter). "D'you really believe all that about werewolves?" he blurted.

"James," said Remus trying for a laugh. "I've never met one. Do you still think I have a werewolf relative? Because I don't. And you said that you were going to stop pressing me for information."

"I don't! And I will! And I wasn't the one who brough up werewolves in the first place—that was Sirius!"

Sirius barged through the door, and both James and Remus jumped. "James, I told you I wanted to talk to him!" cried Sirius.

"Sirius! It has to be me!"

"No! Because I know." A pause. "That it has to be me, I mean."

"You're both being weird!" said Remus throwing up his hands. "I'm fine! It was just noisy in the common room and I was tetchy! And I don't know why you're so concerned about werewolves all of a sudden!"

"Werewolves are obviously a sensitive subject for you," said Sirius, staring Remus dead in the eyes. "We wanna know why... so that we can help you!"

Fear seized Remus' chest. He hated talking about werewolves, and he didn't want to come up with more excuses, and he was so tired... but this was necessary. He scrambled for a good lie. "Er... my dad. Works for the D.R.C.M.C., remember? Has to leave on full moons and I have to take care of my mum. Werewolves are the reason that I have to leave Hogwarts and take care of her. And I know I shouldn't be so reluctant to do it, and I know that I should like seeing her, but... it's tiring." The last two words were so painfully true that they welled up in his heart and made him feel like he was choking. He was so tired.

"I love her, I really do," he continued, "but I always worry that I'm not good enough to help her. It's scary, and... I want to stay here. I don't want to leave when she's poorly." That was true. He didn't want to leave on the full moons, but he knew that staying would be far more graphic, bloody, and overall much worse. "I wish that everything was normal and that I didn't have to worry," he continued, which was also entirely true. "Lots of people don't have to worry, but I do, and it's not fair. And... I know that people are making accommodations for me... to go visit her. So I shouldn't be ungrateful, but... I am, sometimes."

That, Remus reflected, was the closest he'd ever come to telling his friends about the actual feelings that were constantly tethered to his lycanthropy. Feeling tired. Wanting to be normal. Sick of special treatment. And guilty for his own emotions. Yes, that about summed it up, and this was the only way Remus could talk about it—through mother-related metaphors—no, not metaphors, lies. He was sick and tired of it all—of lying, of sneaking—but that was not something he could tell his friends.

"Well, that makes sense," said Sirius, glancing at James. "You're affiliated with werewolves... but you've never met one. Right, James?"

James nodded knowingly, looking back at Sirius. "Exactly. Makes perfect sense to me."

Then the both of them bounded over to the bed and hugged Remus tightly. That was Suspicious Activity Number 4,007, because they weren't normally so touchy-feely. Remus laughed. "It's not that big a deal," he said.

"It's not ungrateful to recognize that not everything's perfect," said Sirius.

"And everyone gets tired of things sometimes, no matter how much is given to them," said James. "I should know. My pocket money is probably higher than your entire savings account, and I still don't like my parents sometimes."

Remus giggled. "Yeah, yeah. Okay, you idiots. Now..." He stretched, yawned, and put Bufo on his nightstand. "I have some homework for Pensley. Either leave me alone or help me with it, yeah?"

Sirius and James disconnected themselves from Remus and appeared to be thinking. "Get Pettigrew," said James. "We're all gonna do the homework."

Okay. That merited another 1,000 Suspicious Activities. They were officially on Suspicious Activity Number 5,007.

"You're being so weird," mumbled Remus.

"Weird and unpredictable. That's me," declared Sirius, "so I'm being normal!"

But he was not being normal, because he managed to sit relatively still for the next hour or so. That was probably a record. Definitely not normal.

And Remus found that doing homework with James and Sirius was actually quite enjoyable. They were bright, they could work hard when they wanted to, and the homework took about a third of the time that it usually did. He crawled into bed at a reasonable hour, having emptied his thoughts in the Pensieve earlier. He didn't have a nightmare, and all was well... if, of course, one discounted the 5,007 Suspicious Activities that had transpired over the past several hours.

Remus' friends continued to be lovely to him. Were they still making up for the fight? Remus wasn't sure, but he was thankful.

Peter didn't seem to know what was going on—he certainly didn't currently possess the same level of weird as Remus' other friends did—but he copied James' and Sirius' enthusiasm. Remus felt a little odd about it, yeah, but he was on top of the world for the next few weeks. The niceness was weird and unpleasant, but it meant that his friends liked him. They wanted to be around him. They went out of their way to help him!

In Charms and Transfiguration, James whispered jokes into his ear, making him laugh. Flitwick gave the Marauders a few dirty looks, and McGonagall took points from Peter when he laughed too loudly, but stifling laughter together in the middle of class was such a beautiful feeling of friendship.

In DAD, Sirius switched seats with him. "Just for today," said Sirius sternly, but Remus couldn't help but grin as he sat far away from Pensley. It was hilarious when Sirius got hit in the face by her flying hands, and still funnier when he tried to scoot away from her elbows that were spilling onto his desk space and nearly fell off of his chair.

In Astronomy, James and Remus were paired up for a constellation identification project. James offered to do the stargazing if Remus did the writing. It was a small thing, and James couldn't possibly have known... but it was nice all the same that Remus didn't have to stare at the waxing moon for what seemed like hours on end.

In Potions, Sirius paired up with Remus instead of James. "Just for today," he said. Remus protested, but Sirius plopped down next to him and offered to fetch every single one of the ingredients if he added them. Remus was surprised and grateful—again, Sirius couldn't possibly have known how much he hated going into that strongly-smelling cupboard, but it was very nice that he was willing to do the generally less desirable job. Remus and Peter had used to split the work evenly, since no one really liked fetching ingredients nearly as much as they liked adding them.

In History of Magic, James and Sirius didn't try to distract Remus at all. In fact, they even shushed a girl who was talking while they learned about wars and warlocks. James took notes when Remus' hand was getting tired. And they helped Remus with his essay that evening.

Remus wasn't sure what was going on, exactly, but it seemed that his luck was finally looking up. It was true that, no matter how nice his friends were being, they'd find out and abandon him... but Remus figured he might as well enjoy his last few—days? weeks? months?—at Hogwarts to the fullest. That was what Professor Questus had suggested, after all, and Professor Questus was usually right.

AN: We've surpassed 100,000 words on Meditations and Revelations! Congrats on reading this far :)