Remus wasn't sure why Madam Pomfrey was so obsessed with water, but it was right annoying sometimes.

He spent the next several days in the Hospital Wing, trying his best to recover from what had been a fairly rough full moon. Madam Pomfrey seemed to give him more water every single time he asked for something. "May I read a book, Madam Pomfrey?" More water. "I'm bored, Madam Pomfrey. Do you want to talk?" More water. "I'm going to take a nap." More water. Always more water—Madam Pomfrey always said that hydration was more important to healing that most people realized, so Remus was practically drowning in the stuff.

"Are you ready to leave the Hospital Wing, Remus?" asked Madam Pomfrey on Sunday, handing him yet another a glass of water. "It's been six days. I think you're clear to go back to your own dormitory for tonight."

"Yes! Finally!" cried Remus. On late Tuesday, Dumbledore had officially declared the flu epidemic over. Classes had started back up on Thursday; now, it was evening on Sunday. Remus had missed two full days of classes, and he was vying to go back. He was certain that the teachers were teaching the material at double speed so as to keep holidays normal lengths, so he didn't want to miss a single thing.

Madam Pomfrey smiled at him. "You're ready to face your friends again?"

"Today's as good a day as any," said Remus. "I'm not... exactly... excited to go back, necessarily. But waiting is often the worst part, and I just want to get it over with."

"Of course. That's very mature of you, you know. Do you have a loose plan for what you're going to say so that you don't choke up?"

"Yeah," said Remus. He had a little bit more than a "loose plan", if he was being honest. He'd written a bit of a script (with small handwriting) that took up about two feet of parchment, so... yeah. He was as ready as he ever would be. And dare he say he was almost... not excited... but interested to see how it would play out? He was hopeful; that was the word. Indeed: for the first time in a long time, Remus Lupin was hopeful, and the feeling was downright weird.

What if he really had made life-long friends last September? It was too much to hope for, probably, but it didn't stop the hope from crawling into his brain like an unwelcome spider and building a web there. What if they stuck with him forever? What if they continued to meet up every once in a while when they were old and grey? What if Remus would be able to fall back on them, forever and ever, no matter what?

The thoughts was ridiculous, but Remus wasn't sure how real long-term friendships worked. He'd never had any himself, and his father's only long-term friend was Uncle Bryson. But everything was changing now, and in ways that Remus had never, ever expected. So what if...?

"All right, one last check-up," said Madam Pomfrey, "and then one more glass of water. Then you may go."

Remus let loose a good-natured groan. Some things, at least, never changed.

He wandered down the corridor, trying to avoid the gazes that he was certain were transfixed on his back. He felt as if everybody knew that he was a werewolf, not just three people, even though he knew it was a stupid thing to feel. He heard whoops and cries coming from outside, and he peeked out a window... the Gryffindor Quidditch team was practicing. He saw a red blur that looked like James... another red blur cheering from the stands that looked like Sirius... and another red blur that looked like Peter... but maybe it was just his imagination? It wasn't as if those red blurs were particularly distinct.

The dormitory was empty. Remus did his top-secret Marauder Knock anyway and entered... and, upon seeing the contents of the dormitory, he promptly slapped a hand over his mouth in surprise.

There were banners, streamers, and even magic flying confetti. He peered at one of the banners, which was a little hard to read at first—it was in Peter's handwriting. WELCOME BACK REMUS. "Oh, no," whispered Remus. "They really are going to make a big deal out of this, aren't they?"

A huge deal. A massive deal. The biggest, sappiest, stupidest deal in the world, and Remus wasn't entirely sure that he was prepared to deal with it after all. He briefly considered going back to the Hospital Wing, but then he changed his mind—as terrified as he was to face this, he still disliked staying in the Hospital Wing very much.

Besides, Remus was determined, wasn't he? He would face this no matter what, because he'd promised Professor Questus he would, and because he'd promised his parents and Professor Dumbledore he would, and because Madam Pomfrey had called him "mature", and especially, especially because Remus had promised himself that he would. He would do this because he wanted to. He would do this because his friends wanted him to. And he would do this, most of all, because he had no other option that was as fulfilling and promising as this one, and Professor Questus had said that it was all about risk vs. reward. The risk was great, yes, but the reward was even more massive than Remus was capable of imagining.

As it turned out, Remus had a decent view of the Quidditch pitch from his bed (though still too distant to see properly). He stared out the window at the flying red blurs, watching the sky get darker and praying it would stay light, just as he did before a full moon... finally, the blurs stopped flying and he heard a whistle blow.

Practice had ended. A shiver crawled across Remus' flesh, and he stared at the ceiling determinedly to quell it.

It was only about ten minutes before Remus heard Sirius, James, and Peter clattering up the stairs to the dormitory and talking excitedly about Quaffles and Bludgers. Remus sat up in bed and waited... they each did their Marauder Knocks... they opened the door... and even though Remus knew that they accepted him now, he knew—he still expected them to walk in with hatred on their faces, for some reason...

But, of course, that didn't happen. "REMUS!" shrieked Peter, and there was nothing on his face but joy that Remus couldn't even begin to reciprocate. "You're back! You're actually back! I knew you'd be back, because Albus said you'd be back, and then he said you were in the Hospital Wing, and then..." Remus noticed that Bufo was wrapped up in his hat-cum-pillow that Peter was holding tightly to keep him warm, and Remus smiled.

"Yeah, I'm back," said Remus quietly; he tried to say something else, but he couldn't quite muster the words. He was extremely uncomfortable—he felt sort of like a skeleton that the Marauders could see right through. It was so odd being in the room with his friends without a thick layer of lies between them.

"Aw, we wanted to see your face when you looked at the decorations," said James, snatching a piece of confetti out of the air and rolling it between his fingers. "Did you cry? I thought you would cry."

"I didn't cry!"

"Did you want to run away? Sirius said you would want to run away."

"I didn't run away."

"Is it too much? Peter thought it would be too much."

"It's not... okay, yeah. It's too much."

"Aw, shoot. I thought it wasn't enough. Oh, well. You were right for once in your life, Pete."

Peter ran at Remus and threw himself onto Remus' bed, hugging Remus tightly. Remus felt the wound on his chest start to open again and he pushed Peter away roughly. "Peter! Peter, stop!"

Peter backed up. "Did I do something wrong?"

Remus slid his hand under his shirt and felt the wound with a grimace. When he pulled his hand back out, it was clean. No blood. He breathed a sigh of relief. "No. It's all right. I just... I'm sensitive... right now. And, besides, you can't go touching me until you know the... implications."

"What implications? Are you contagious?"

"No! Only on the... on the full moon."

Oh, this hurt. This hurt so much to talk about. Why was it so much more difficult speaking with his friends about such matters than it was with Professor Questus? Every word felt like a sword being pulled out of Remus' throat, scraping the sides as it went. Every sentence felt like Remus' ribs were being squeezed and broken, one by one. Every letter felt like an assault on his very being. Every paragraph felt like...

"Then why is it a problem?" asked James, pulling Remus out of his overly-dramatic thoughts roughly. "If you're only contagious on the full moon, then why is any of this a problem?"

It was a good question, and it was one that Remus couldn't even begin to answer properly. He didn't know, himself. "Because... because the vast majority of the wizarding world would be revulsed to be in the same room with me if they knew what I was," Remus replied, and he could feel himself start to hyperventilate a little. This was not going according to the script that he'd written in the Hospital Wing earlier. Where was that thing? Had he lost it? Oh, fiddlesticks. "Look, I... I'm sorry for leaving," he said, "and I think that, now that I'm back... there are a few things that... we need to clear up, yeah?"

"Sure," said James. He sat on the floor and motioned for Sirius and Peter to sit next to him, who obeyed. Remus was a bit embarrassed (for some reason) to be on a different level, so he slid off his bed, down the the floor, and brought his knees up to his chest. James grinned at him—his smile hadn't changed at all since Remus had left, and it almost hurt. How could things be so painfully similar to how they used to be when Remus' whole world had changed? "Why don't we tell you what happened when you left first?" James asked, still smiling as if nothing had happened.

Remus was more than happy to let James start the conversation, so he nodded and tried not to interrupt.

"Well, we went to Dumbledore's office on the day that you left—around eleven, so you were already home—and he told us this really weird story about a spider named Robert. Then we got angry with him because he'd told us the day before that he would fix it. Then he said that he'd already fixed it and that he was ninety-nine percent sure that you'd come back."

Remus blinked. "What?" Ninety-nine? So that was before Remus had even sent the letter.

"Yeah. He was pretty confident. He said that John would convince you."

"John... Questus?"

"Yes."

Remus started to laugh, despite everything. "Then... Dumbledore... oh, goodness. I was being played. The whole time. Did he really...? He knew the whole time that I was going to come back? Oh, I'm so embarrassed now. People have been doing that to me all week. Am I really that predictable?"

"You're pretty predictable," said Sirius. It was the first time he'd spoken. Remus couldn't read his expression, and it scared him.

"Then we waited," continued James. "We took care of your toad. D'you want him back now?"

"Keep him for a bit. I'm nervous enough that I'll squish him. And he likes Peter, I think."

"Okay. We wanted to visit you earlier and give him back then, but Dumbledore said that you needed some space."

"I did." Remus sensed that James was done talking, and he let out a puff of air. "Is it... is it my turn?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Mate, this isn't a formal hearing," said Sirius. "It's not a big deal, and we don't have to take turns. Just go whenever you want."

The act of taking turns provided Remus with a template that he desperately needed, but he was wiling to forego it if it made his friends comfortable. "Okay," he said slowly. "I'm not sure where to start. I... there's so much that you should... know. To be fully informed. About me. And usually, I don't always like it when people know things—unless they're the right people, I mean—that is to say, I'm not saying you're not the right people, but... well, you know what I mean."

"No, we don't," muttered Sirius.

Not going according to plan. Not going according to plan! Abort, abort! "My point is... I want you to be fully informed, because I don't feel that this is a choice you should be making without knowing the implications, you know? So I want you to know some things about—about me, because I've been lying to you for ages, but also... about werewolves. Some things. At least."

"We already know some," said James. "I got a book from the library back in September. About... werewolves. That's not an offensive term, is it? You don't prefer... I dunno. Lycanthrope or something?"

Remus shook his head and snorted. "Never liked that term. Werewolf is fine."

"Okay. Well, I read it front to back, which is rare for me. But I don't think it's completely true, is it? And Sirius and I figured some things out on our own. So why don't we start there? We'll tell you what we know, and then you can elaborate. Because, to be honest, you seem too nervous to form much of a coherent sentence by yourself."

"Sounds good to me," Remus whispered. Yes, this was good. This was a template. A template would help Remus focus and stop acting like a cowardly idiot.

Peter rubbed his cheek with his sleeve—a nervous tic. "You're okay with us... asking questions? We can wait, you know. We can wait until you're feeling better or something..."

Remus shook his head. "No. Go ahead. I really do want you to be fully informed. And I'm used to questions by now. The teachers asked plenty when I first came, you know, so I got used to them a little bit."

"Do all of them know?" said Sirius.

"Yeah. All the staff, including ghosts. And Peeves. And the Centaurs in the Forest. And... you." Remus covered his face. "Ugh, so many people know now."

Peter wrung his hands. "We're sorry."

"No, don't be. Not your fault you're bright enough to figure it out. Go ahead, James. What do you know? Most books are wrong anyway."

"Stop me if I say anything offensive," said James.

"You won't offend me, I promise. I've heard it all."

"All right... well, we know that you're a werewolf..."

"Stop!" said Remus, holding up a hand. "Merlin's beard, James, you can't just say that. That's so offensive. That hurt, it really did. I thought you'd done your research, James—how could you say something so rude?"

James' face had gone white. "Er... what? You said—you said the term was fine, so I... I'm sorry, I didn't know!"

Remus had been making a joke, but perhaps it had been in bad taste. "I was joking," he said miserably. "Sorry."

There was a long silence... and then, suddenly, all three of his friends burst out laughing.

"See?" said Sirius loudly. "There's Remus! He's exactly the same!"

James wiped his eyes in mirth. "Yep! He makes a good joke and then apologizes for it!"

"He hasn't changed one bit!" giggled Peter.

Remus was laughing a bit now, himself. "I just didn't want to be rude," he said. "It was a bit of a mean joke, I guess. And... yes, I'm exactly the same as I was since the start of first year. I've been a werewolf since then, you know."

"Yeah, we know." James wiped his eyes once more, and then he removed and cleaned his glasses, his giggles finally fading away. "Okay. Are we done with the interruptions? So we know that you're a werewolf. We know that you transform into a... wait, if you're a werewolf now, then what are you on the full moon?"

The mirth had faded, and the thick discomfort was back. "A transformed werewolf. Or just... a wolf, I guess."

"Fine. Okay. When you're a wolf on the full moon, you don't have a sense of right or wrong... is that right? Or just some prejudiced rubbish?"

"It's right."

"Makes sense. So, since you can't control yourself, which isn't your fault whatsoever... you have to have someone to keep you under control so that you don't hurt anyone."

"Wait, stop." Remus held up a hand. "You think someone... keeps me under control? Of course not! I'd kill them."

"You wouldn't kill John," said James triumphantly. "Because he's a werewolf, too!"

There was a long moment of silence as Remus tried not to laugh. "What? Professor Questus? Where did you get that?"

"Am I wrong? Is he an Animagus instead?"

"No! Yes! You're wrong! He's not an Animagus!"

"But... we figured that you come back all injured, and that's from where someone tried to... you know, keep you under control. And we think it's John because you spent so much time together, and then he moved next to you...? So obviously, he can't be human if he's still alive. Oh, and also! You're hiding fangs when you smile and you can't touch silver and you don't feel pain around the full moon and..."

Remus really did laugh at that. "You're so wrong, James. I'm sorry. I'm going to have to stop you there, because I can't listen to this."

"What? I was so sure!"

"James Potter is always right," Sirius mocked.

"Shut up!"

"It's not your fault," said Remus, still giggling. "There are a lot of misconceptions, and it's not as if I've ever explained anything before—that might have been a bit of a giveaway, you know. I'll just..." Remus sighed and hugged his knees more tightly. "I'll just start at the beginning."

"Wait," interrupted James. "I'm going to run down to the Kitchens under the Cloak and nick some tea and snacks. This sounds like a conversation that needs a hot cuppa. Come with, Peter?"

"Of course!" said Peter, excited to be included, and James and Peter were gone in the dormitory in an instant.

Awkward silence.

Remus looked at Sirius. Sirius was more or less expressionless. "Er... Sirius. I'm sorry. I can tell you're angry, but I didn't mean to lie to you... well, I did mean to. Definitely meant to. But I didn't want to. And I definitely didn't assume that you were prejudiced on the sole basis of your family... you've said some great things about werewolves over the past few months..."

"I'm not angry at you," said Sirius, but he was starting to look very angry indeed. "I'm angry at myself. I said awful things. I was prejudiced on the sole basis of my family."

"Not anymore."

"No, not anymore. But I was. And then... when you... you were saying all those things about how you didn't think that werewolves could be good and they should die...?"

"Trying to throw you off the scent."

"But I said stuff like that, so it sounded like you were just parroting me! And I didn't mean that! I didn't mean any of it! I thought... werewolves in general, yeah... but not you!"

"I am werewolves in general, Sirius. Trust me. I'm definitely a werewolf."

"I didn't know!"

Remus shifted a little. "Sirius, I don't blame anyone for prejudice. Not ever. It's just the way that people were raised, and I've come into contact with so much of it that it doesn't even bother me anymore. I mean, there's a lot of it that's correct, partially... somewhere deep down."

"No, there's not."

"Yes, there is. I am dangerous on the full moon. I could be a murderer under the wrong circumstances. It's a combination of luck and good parents that I've never hurt anyone. I don't mean to scare you, but... yeah. Some of that prejudice is entirely correct, so I can't be angry about it. I don't expect anything from you at all, so you're already going above and beyond, and I'm thankful."

"But still, I..."

"How about this, Sirius? I'll forget the things that you said about werewolves if you forget the fact that I lied to you for more than a year, yeah?" He gave Sirius a smile, and Sirius—to his relief—smiled back.

"Yeah. You're a good person, Remus."

"Don't get that a lot from people who know," said Remus. "Cheers."

Silence.

Then Sirius coughed nervously and twiddled a thumb against his robes. "I sort of thought that it was my fault that you didn't tell us sooner. Thought you heard everything I said and got spooked."

"No way," said Remus, shaking his head furiously. "I wouldn't have told you no matter what. I liked having friends who didn't know, and I always automatically assume that everyone hates werewolves. I'm usually right—currently, I have about a 90% accuracy rate, I believe. I never expected you three to like me. Never. And it had nothing to do with anything you said. It's just... it's just the way it is."

"If you're sure," said Sirius, and then they sat in awkward silence until James and Peter came back up with tea and crumpets.

"Okay, Remus!" said James happily. "Start at the beginning."

Remus sighed. "I need a minute to find the words."

"Take as much time as you need!" said James, and Remus was almost tempted to take him up on that and sit here, forever, because he was never-ever-ever going to be ready to share as much as he knew he needed to.

He took the cup of tea and slowly finished the entire thing.

Minutes passed.

"Okay. I'm ready now," lied Remus, and James silently handed him another cup of tea.

"I was bitten when I was four... and I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I never have, not with anyone. But I was almost five... and I transformed for the first time a week after my fifth birthday. So... it's been a while."

"Hang on," said James. "You were bitten by a werewolf?"

"Er... yeah?"

"Oh, that's so cool!"

"Didn't you read about werewolves, James? That seems like pretty basic information."

"I did... but I never put two and two together. I thought that maybe you were just born like that, I guess. The textbooks take care not to paint werewolves as victims, so I just didn't make the connection."

"I put it together," said Peter helpfully. "That's what your nightmares are about, right?"

Remus froze. "Sometimes."

"But not always?" pressed Peter, frowning. "What are the others, then?"

"Just... let me keep going!" said Remus, a little annoyed to have his train of thought interrupted. "I was four. Almost five. It's been seven years, eight this February. Er... I did tell the truth about staying home a lot as a child. We had to move house quite a bit to avoid nosy neighbors and intuitive Healers and things. My parents tried every potential cure that we could fine until I was about ten... and then we gave up, because it's incurable. I also told the truth about my family, Sirius... pretty much all of my dad's family disowned me when they found out. Changed their surnames. Moved away."

"Woah," said Sirius. "Do they hate you?"

"Yes."

"So you do understand how I feel about my family, huh?"

"To an extent, yes, but our situations are a little different. Anyway... Dumbledore came to me right before my eleventh birthday and invited me to Hogwarts personally. I'm... contained... on the full moon in a strong building with a lot of spells and enchantments to keep me in."

"But what's it feel like?" said Peter quietly.

"To be a werewolf? It feels... like being me, I guess. I don't have much to compare it to. I have a really good sense of smell and hearing, slightly improved night vision, and I feel really ill before the full moon—that's why I wake up early, James. Just don't feel well."

"Since you always look like Hippogriff dung when you wake up early, I worked that out for myself," said James, and Remus hesitantly smiled.

"And then," he said, dreading this part, but his friends had to know, because this was probably the biggest, most horrible part of Remus' life... "The transformations are completely excruciating."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I can... I can feel every single change. Every single difference between a wolf and a human. I can feel it." Remus shuddered and took another sip of tea. "It really hurts. And since... well, werewolves are five-X creatures—beasts—which means that they seek out human prey. They have to be attacking something all the time. It's instinct. So... when there's no one else to attack..."

"You attack yourself," finished James. "Oh. Remus. That's horrible."

"Yeah." Remus was shaking, but he didn't know why. He was never this affected when he talked to Professor Questus. "So I spend a few days in the Hospital Wing recovering."

His friends were silent for a long time; it sounded like they were waiting for Remus to say something else, so he moved on to the next important, horribly mortifying point. "And I can remember everything that happens on the full moon, too," he said. "It's me, not some monster in my body. It's just... a different version of me. Anyway... the transformations are why I'm so tired and sore all the time. I lose a lot of sleep, obviously, and my bones rearrange themselves every full moon, so... I have a touch of joint trouble all the time, and an issue with my jaw—it doesn't quite open right—and my voice gets scratchy sometimes, and I'm not very athletic, and I've normally got wounds all over my body, and a terrible fear of claws and teeth... so it affects me all the time, not just once a month. And I won't be able to keep up with you very well, I'm afraid."

"Mm. Must be hard with the low pain threshold," said James, and Remus nearly jumped up from the floor in excitement.

"James!" he cried with a grin, and it was the first time he'd genuinely smiled this widely in a while. "Oh, James, I've wanted to tell you this forever! I was lying when I told you that last year. I don't have a low pain threshold. In fact, I have a very, very high pain threshold. You can't go through what I do every month for seven years and still have a low pain threshold."

"Then...?"

"I have injuries a lot, and sometimes when you kicked me or hit me you'd get me on a wound or something."

James covered his mouth. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be. Not your fault. But I'm very happy to tell you that I am not a fragile china doll. You've been wrong all this time."

James laughed and held his hands up. "Fine. You win. You're not fragile."

"Thank you." Remus, to his own amazement and delight, was beginning to relax a little. "Now... er... did you say you thought I had fangs? That's not true."

"Then why do you cover up your mouth when you smile a lot?" asked Sirius.

"Because some people are uncomfortable when they see my teeth."

"But you don't have fangs."

"Doesn't matter."

"But they don't even know you're a werewolf."

"But they might."

"But they... literally don't."

"Well, maybe I'm uncomfortable baring my teeth at people," said Remus. "Look, that's something else that you have to understand. I hate wolves. Anything to do with them. Being a... being a werewolf has caused me a lot of pain and prejudice and suffering, and I... try to avoid certain things that remind me that I'm not human. Like meat and showing my teeth and... things. It's why I'm vegetarian. And why I hate my name. And why I'm... not enjoying this conversation, to be completely honest. I'm not human, and I don't like to be reminded of the fact."

"You are human," said James.

"No, I'm not. And I'm not being self-deprecating; it's a literal fact that I've made peace with. I'm not human. I'm a person, but I'm not technically human. Separate species entirely. Anyway. I... I'm afraid that I'm very... high-maintenance, I guess, is the word. I get emotional and afraid a lot, I'm permanently damaged... I'm going to need space sometimes, and I'm not used to having friends. Everything already feels different now that you know... and I sound fine talking about it now, but sometimes I can't talk about it, no matter how hard I try. It's a sensitive subject, and I know that sensitivity isn't... your strong suit. But you can't talk about it in public. You have to lie and keep my secret and be careful all the time... and, you know, I'm maybe ruining your childhoods, and I'm sorry about that, because I know this is a huge secret and no one wants that as a carefree kid. I know I didn't, but it couldn't be helped, and I feel awful pushing it on anyone else.

"And, on that note, I'm also prone to guilt and... well, I'm annoying. I'm not at all normal—that's why I didn't want to bother you with all of my problems, because I have a lot of them. I grew up knowing the truth about werewolves and I hate it. No one should have to know. No one. Especially no one young." Remus blinked back tears. "I'm sorry for putting you through this. You need only tell me and I'll go home, I promise. This is just a trial period—I'm going to decide whether I can deal with having friends who know after holidays, and then I'll decide whether I'm coming back or not. Got it?"

There was a bit of a silence, and Remus dreaded his friends' eventual response. All of a sudden, he really wanted them to accept him, even if they didn't want to themselves—oh, he wanted this with all his heart. And yeah, maybe he was being selfish, but he so desperately wanted to be accepted and thought of as a normal person, which was something that only the Marauders had been able to give him. Being normal wasn't something that Remus got from his parents, from the staff, or even from Professor Questus... no, Remus only ever felt normal around his friends, and he didn't want to give that up.

Finally, James broke the excruciating silence. "Do we understand the implications now?" he asked.

"The... well, I suppose... a little."

"Good."

Before Remus knew it, he was engulfed in a brief but giant hug by all three of his friends. They were all carefully avoiding his wounded chest, to Remus' happiness and amusement. Remus stopped trying to hold back his tears, and James only complained for three minutes and forty-seven seconds when Remus got his robes all wet.

AN: Happy Easter to those who celebrate it!