Remus sleepily cracked one eyelid open and glanced out the window. The moon was high, clear, and very close to full—in fact, the full moon was tonight, a little more than a dozen hours away. They were practically upon it. Unwanted anxiety coursed through Remus' body as he considered the prospect, and he sighed and pulled back his curtains in order to quell the fear. "James?" he whispered. "I know you're awake."

"Yep!" said James. "You know, I've got a great internal clock. Told myself I'd wake up at four so that I could see you off, and boom! Exactly four o'clock, and then here I am."

"But it's five-ten," said Remus, rubbing his eyes.

"Yep. I stayed awake reading. Did you know that some werewolves are nearly twice the size of normal wolves? It's not super common, though. Usually they're bigger, but not that big. Did you know that?"

"Er... yes, I knew that," said Remus. "Believe it or not, I know a fair bit about werewolves."

"Yeah, okay. Makes sense. It's a full moon day, huh? John made a list of symptoms in that book, so I know exactly what's going on."

"I think I told you the symptoms myself last full moon."

"Yeah, but... yeah, you're right. Come on, I'm gonna stay up and talk with you for a bit. Let's go to the common room so that we don't wake Sirius and Pete."

"Okay," muttered Remus. As overbearing and overwhelming as James was, Remus didn't have the strength to argue much. Without even asking, James grasped Remus' arm and helped him walk down to the common room, where he started up a fire and then dashed back to the dormitory to get Remus' satchel (that Remus usually packed the night before for the Hospital Wing). James returned not even thirty seconds later and plopped Bufo into Remus' lap. Bufo croaked in protest. He did not like it when people ran around with him on their shoulders. "Thanks, James," said Remus, patting Bufo's head a little. "You may go back to sleep if you'd like. I should get to the Hospital Wing."

"Nonsense. I wanna talk to you. Poppy'll understand, I'm sure. Have any tips for the Patronus?"

"James, you've been practicing that spell nonstop. I've given you all of my tips already." Remus squirmed, trying to get comfortable. "Will you take Bufo for a moment? I need to walk around."

"Sure!" said James, a bit too eagerly. He grabbed Bufo, and Remus dragged himself to his feet to pace by the flames. It was nice to walk; it hurt his bones terribly, but at least it burned a bit of the adrenaline. Maybe talking with James before going to the Wing would be nice after all. Madam Pomfrey almost never let Remus pace—she called it "overexertion" (she called most everything "overexertion", though). "What d'you want to talk about?" James asked, watching Remus with the same sort of eager curiosity that Professor Questus sometimes did.

Remus sighed. "I don't care, mate. I'm afraid I'm not much conversation right now. Tell me about Tudor Shacklebolt's argument with... who was that other girl on your team? Dottie?"

"Yeah!" said James, launching into the story. Remus closed his eyes and continued to pace, surrounded by warmth from the fire and the familiar cadence of James' voice. Back and forth... back and forth... back and forth...

Remus sat awake in the Hospital Wing, propped up against a pillow and reading Questus' duelling notebook carefully. He was memorizing his fifth page of duelling stances when Madam Pomfrey came in with some tea. "Do you think you can stomach any tea today?" she said.

"No," said Remus. "Would you...?" Madam Pomfrey nodded and Vanished the tea, and Remus breathed a sigh of relief as the harsh scent disappeared. "Maybe I would have been able to in the early morning, but not afternoon."

"Well, if you and James Potter are going to talk in the common room from five to seven-thirty, then perhaps you could try to keep down some tea or a light meal then."

Remus smiled and nodded. "Perhaps."

"Is it helping? Spending time with Potter before coming down here?"

"Yes," said Remus vehemently. "I feel ever so calm. James talks a lot, so I don't even have to respond. I can just listen. It helps me relax." He chuckled. "Much more than Pensley's meditation. My friends came with me again last time again, you know. James was whispering the whole time. Sirius tried to do interpretive dance when Pensley's eyes were closed, but he fell over and she told him to be quiet. I think that Peter honestly likes it, though. Completely unironically."

Madam Pomfrey looked amused. "Well, they came by earlier today during lunch and asked to see you. You were sleeping. I told them to come back after classes..."

Remus glared at her.

"Remus, if talking with Potter helped... then perhaps having visitors would be good for you..."

"No."

"Only to sit and talk, and only for a few minutes..."

"No."

"You've napped quite a bit today, so if you think that you're up for it..."

"No."

Madam Pomfrey heaved a frustrated sort of sigh and raked her fingers across Remus' bedside table. "Oh, why not? I'm sure you're tired of only having me for company. As much as I dislike John Questus, he was a good change in atmosphere for you. You can't just sit here for three days a month with only your books. You're twelve. You'll go insane."

"I had six and a half years with only my books and my parents, and I think I'm perfectly sane."

"Debatable."

"Oi!"

"They're good for you. Let them visit."

"No!" said Remus. "It's one thing to see me ill in the common room. It's another to see me like this. I'm paler than I was, I'm lying down, I can hardly move, my eyes are puffy, and..."

"Do you really care how you look? They see you every morning and I'm sure you're not looking your best then, so..."

"Madam Pomfrey, it's different. They don't need to see me ill. No one wants to see a person who's going to be a murderous beast in... oh, five hours." His stomach clenched uncomfortably as he thought of the upcoming full moon... why did they still scare him so much? He was nearing eight years, but the mere thought of an upcoming full moon still made him want to vomit.

Madam Pomfrey crossed her arms. "If I was allowed make bets with students, then I'd bet you good money that your friends want to see you."

"Well, perhaps they do out of supposed obligation," Remus muttered. "May I have a cup of water, please?"

"Of course," said Madam Pomfrey, cleaning a cup with a quick Scourgify and adding water via magic—just as she knew Remus liked it on the full moon with such sensitive senses. Magic was perfectly clean; it had almost no taste or smell.

Remus took a sip, relishing the relative lack of taste, and internally thanked Madam Pomfrey for not pushing the matter any further. He loved his friends, yes, but there were some things that he did not want to share with them. Half the appeal of the Marauders was that Remus got to be Human-Remus around them: not a werewolf, not a student, not a patient, and not a thing to be studied and pitied. He would do whatever he could to salvage that, and he would do even more in order to protect his best friends from the terrifying reality that Remus had had to confront as a young child: that the darkness in the world was even more shocking and powerful than the light was, and that evil was occasionally incomprehensible in the worst way.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I could only do so for ten minutes, perhaps... you could tell me more about your holidays..."

"No, Madam Pomfrey. Stop asking." Remus was huddled on the armchair that Dumbledore fixed every single month without fail (due to the fact that Remus destroyed it every single month without fail). The weather was cold today, and Remus' persistent fever didn't help. He clutched his robes more tightly around him, but they did nothing to prevent his shivering and quaking. "See you in the morning," he mumbled.

"In the morning," Madam Pomfrey conceded, and Remus listened to her footsteps fade.

He read for a bit, using a book he'd magically Duplicated so as not to destroy anything else that was real. The sky got darker. Even with his slightly-improved night vision, he could not make out the words—but perhaps part of that was because he didn't care to, because he was far too tired and nauseous to read. It was a particularly dark night, even though it had been clear like day the night before. A storm was coming. Remus could smell it in the air.

He stood up and started to pace, just as he did most months. Perhaps Remus' wealth of memorized poetry, saved for moments such as these, would calm him. "Black as the pit from pole to pole..." he tried, but he couldn't for the life of him remember the rest of the poem. He thought that "unconquerable soul" was another line, but that didn't feel appropriate. "Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade." That was extremely depressing. What was that poem called? "Invictus"? He'd thought that it was a happy poem, but he couldn't remember any happy lines.

He knew some happy poems, absolutely, but the only one that he could remember at present was "The Walrus and the Carpenter", and he knew that one well enough that reciting the well-known words would provide little distraction from the impending pain. "Er..." he mumbled aloud. "Erm... said the lonely duck to the big kangaroo, 'Good gracious, oh how you hop!' Over the fields and water too, as if you would never stop... My life is a bore in this nasty pond, and I long to go out in the world beyond... I wish I could hop like you, I do," said the lonely duck to the big kangaroo." The rhythm felt off to him, and he was sure that he'd missed a couple of words, but he kept going until he couldn't remember anymore. Then he collapsed back into the armchair and tried to breathe.

It couldn't be much longer now, could it? He couldn't make out the moon through the small boarded-up window—the cloud covering was far too heavy.

He sat and fervently mumbled everything that he had memorized, staring at the ceiling with sweat dripping down his face and trembling hands. Once he'd exhausted his supply of poetry, he moved on to reciting what he'd read out of Questus' duelling notebook... and then his DAD text... and then he whispered anecdotes from his Christmas holidays into the silence... and when his voice was too hoarse to continue, he mussed his hair and pretended to be James, because James was always brave, and the thought that such constant courage was possible provided Remus with a bit of his own.

His quivering stopped with a jolt, and his heartbeat echoed throughout the room. Remus slid off of the armchair and scrambled to the other side of the room—perhaps he could avoid destroying it today to save Professor Dumbledore some work.

Any second now...

"All things considered, Mr. Lupin," said Madam Pomfrey, crouching beside him, "it's not bad this month at all. Your friends seem to be good for you. Although... you really shouldn't be sitting up. You need to stop doing that after full moons. I've told you a hundred times before."

"What did I... d-do?" said Remus, trying to speak despite his numb tongue.

"Shhh. Don't speak; I was getting to that. Your nose is broken, and I'm afraid it's bleeding quite a lot... but nose injuries often do. Episkey. There, all fixed. You're missing two teeth, but you already know that I can regrow those a lot quicker and more easily than bones. You've a gash on your side and another nasty one across your abdomen... but they're not life-threatening and should be almost completely healed in a week and a half. Other than that, it just seems to be the normal assortment of cuts and bruises. You'll be okay."

Remus tried to nod, but his head was too heavy. He knew that he'd be okay, of course—he always was—but it was nice to hear it. Madam Pomfrey helped him up after a few more moments, and Remus leaned on her shoulder and walked back to the castle. When he was safely in bed (though soaked and shivering from walking through the heavy snow outside), Madam Pomfrey gave him a Pain-Relieving Potion that helped him slip into a half-asleep state as he passively listened to her gentle movements and incantations.

Just like every month. Just like clockwork. Remus hated it, but he didn't want to change his routine to accommodate the Marauders—right now, it was as fine as it was ever going to be.

Just as Remus had expected, it was storming all day long. He hoped that James wasn't too distressed about the likelihood of Quidditch practice being canceled that evening (though he knew that hoping was futile. Of course James would be upset).

The weather got much worse at about eight-thirty pm, and it hadn't let up all day, so Remus suspected that Quidditch had indeed been canceled. Lightning flashed outside. There were no windows in Madam Pomfrey's office (a fact for which Remus was thankful; admittedly, he was a bit frightened of sleeping next to windows), but he could hear the thunder and see the lightning through the crack below the door that led to the main ward. He fell asleep around nine pm.

At twelve-fifteen, he slipped out of his deep sleep to a fresh prickling in his abdomen. He was still halfway dreaming—the scent of his friends was still in his nose; he'd been dreaming about a pleasant Forbidden Forest excursion—but he was aware of Madam Pomfrey stepping around his bedside. The Pain-Relieving Potion was wearing off, he could tell, but it was still a bit early.

"I have fifteen minutes at least," he mumbled. Madam Pomfrey giggled and then stomped on someone's foot, and then got into a silent scuffle with herself and fell backwards, crashing almost silently into the wall.

"What?" said Remus, now wide-awake. That wasn't Madam Pomfrey. That scent wasn't a remnant from a dream. Those were actually his friends! Remus reached for his wand and cast a weak Soundproofing Charm on the door to the main ward. "James? Sirius? Peter? I asked you not to come. This is practically the worst possible time! I... did Madam Pomfrey tell you that you could come? I told her that...!" He rubbed his eyes, hoping that it was only a dream. No such luck. "I thought... why...? Go away!"

"How'd you know it was us?" said James, slipping off the Invisibility Cloak and hanging it haphazardly over a chair. "Blimey, mate, you look awful."

"Heightened senses, remember?" said Remus. "Although I don't really need them when you're crashing around and giggling like that. And I know I look awful! That's why I asked you not to come! How could you...? Why would you just... ignore me? I told you that my requests were important! I need time! This is private!"

Sirius held up his hands. "Woah. We were going to 'respect your wishes' or whatever, but then John told us to stop by."

"WHAT?" Remus exclaimed. He did hope that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't hear him through the subpar Soundproofing Charm. "That traitor! He told you to stop by specifically NOW?"

"No. He told us to stop by 'before breakfast on the second day'. It's twelve-seventeen, meaning that it is, in fact, 'the second day', and it's also 'before breakfast'. By a couple of hours. At least. Good morning!"

"It's not morning; it's the middle of the night!" cried Remus. The lighting was dim, at least, so perhaps they couldn't see the full extent of what he'd done to himself—the horrific injuries and pain that one werewolf could cause—a werewolf that was Remus, no other. "Please get out. I need to be alone. And I'm pretty sure Professor Questus meant at seven or seven-thirty tomorrow... not that I want you to come then, either." Remus clenched his fists under the sheets and tried to breathe. How could Professor Questus invade his privacy again? It wasn't Questus' choice to make; it was Remus'! Remus hated not being in control. Every month, he was not in control of his own facilities and desires, and now people were making sure that he also had no control during the day. They picked what he wanted, chose what he would experience, tailored Remus' wants and needs in the way that they thought would benefit Remus most... when all Remus wanted was to make his own decisions for once. It hurt far more than Remus cared to admit.

"Too late to turn back now," said James. He sat on the bed next to Remus, and Remus hissed as the movement of the bed springs caused the prickling in his legs to turn to fire. "Okay, mate?" asked James.

"James, I took rather hefty dose of Pain-Relieving Potion as soon as I got back to the Hospital Wing yesterday. It'll be wearing off in about ten minutes, and you definitely do not want to be there for that. Madam Pomfrey's going to come in at any minute. You should leave. And don't come back."

"Remus, you're bleeding," said Peter in a small voice, pointing to Remus' bedsheets. Remus looked down. He'd sat up too quickly, and the wound on his side—or abdomen—or something; Remus couldn't really feel it yet—had reopened.

"Fiddlesticks," he muttered angrily. "James, get off my bed."

"Why can't we come back tomorrow?" said James. He did not get off Remus' bed.

"Because Sirius is afraid of blood, you're talkative, Peter's clingy, and I'm very cross. And I really, truly don't want anyone seeing me!"

"We won't talk if you don't want us to," said James eagerly. "And Sirius can suck it up. And Peter won't touch you with a ten-foot pole. And we'll close our eyes if it'll make you feel better!"

"I'm going to be perfectly frank," said Remus, "I just transformed into a bloodthirsty monster for about eleven hours and attacked myself from dusk till dawn. I don't want your pity and I don't want your company. I want to be alone with my tea and my books and as many Pain-Relieving Potions as Madam Pomfrey is willing to give me. I'm not ready for company!"

"John said that you didn't actually mean that," said Peter.

"Lycanthropy is an isolating condition, and Lupin thrives off of company," said Sirius in a surprisingly good imitation of Professor Questus' voice.

James took a deep breath, and Remus could tell that he was about to recite a long memorized speech word-for-word (as James was wont to do). "He wants company, but he thinks he's imposing too much if he does anything other than refusing himself the luxury. His behavior is insanely self-destructive. He needs people to knock some sense into him, and staying out of everybody's way because he thinks he has some sort of plague is not the way to go about things. He'll act angry... but he'll mostly be relieved that he can have company on the full moons."

Remus blinked. "Yeah, well, Professor Questus was wrong. I'm definitely angry. And he'll definitely be hearing from me as soon as I..." Suddenly, pain ripped through his body and he could feel the wounds on his abdomen with frightening clarity. "Merlin's beard. James, get off of the bed. Please."

James stood up and looked down at Remus, concerned. "Okay, mate?" said James for the second time that night.

"Potion's wearing off," he said through gritted teeth. "This is literally the worst time you could have come—save last night or maybe early yesterday morning before I got cleaned up. Please go away. Right now. Madam Pomfrey will be here in..." He bit his lip and tried not to cry out. "I love you all, but sometimes I hate you."

Footsteps. In one fluid movement, Madam Pomfrey entered the room—just as James threw the Cloak over himself and the other Marauders. "Were you talking to somebody?" asked Madam Pomfrey.

Remus' mouth was filling with blood, but he didn't know why. "No. Just... Walrus and the... Carpenter. Reciting. Again. Calms me."

"Right," said Madam Pomfrey. There was a wet cloth in her hand; she knew the drill. "You're mostly coherent. That's an improvement. Although you need to stop biting your lip so hard. Grit your teeth instead, if you must. But you are looking well this month indeed."

"Woke up a bit earlier. And n-not as many... injuries. This m-month." He wanted to cry. For more than one reason, actually. The pain in his side really was awful, though truly not as bad as some months were, and he could practically feel the presence of his friends.

"I'm glad. Your friends really are good for you, hm?" Remus wildly prayed that Madam Pomfrey would stop talking about them, but alas—no avail. "Good of Potter to sit with you this morning. Are you sure that you won't let them visit tomorrow?"

"Certain," said Remus. "A-and it's very nice to kn-know that they ressspect my requestss, at leas-s-s-t." He tried to cast a pointed look towards where he knew his friends were, but he couldn't really move his head that much. The jab didn't have much effect when he could hardly get out the words, however, which was disappointing.

Madam Pomfrey pressed the wet cloth to Remus' forehead, and Remus closed his eyes. He didn't like being babied or fussed over, but... the pain was making him so hot, and the cloth felt so good... "Remus, I'm going to be honest with you—"

"Now's n-not a great time to dis-s-scuss this, Madam Pomfrey."

"You're fine. You do this every month." Typically, Remus would have loved hearing those words, but he was too cross at the moment to appreciate them fully. "I am going to be honest with you, Remus. I don't usually like it when people visit my patients. My patients need rest, and people bouncing on their beds and trying to sneak them sweets and talking them out of their sleep isn't good for a healing body." She made a face, but Remus barely caught it through the haze of pain wrapping around his brain in persistent tendrils. "But you're different, Remus. You need company. It helps you. What strikes me most about lycanthropy is not just the extent of the injuries that you receive every month—it's the extent of the injuries, the constant impending horror of the next one, and especially the fact that it—"

"Is an isolating condition," Remus finished, and he only stuttered a little. The pain was receding, if only slightly.

"Yes, exactly. You need friends. You'll feel better, I promise. Trust me on this one—I am the matron, after all."

"Yeah, and I'm the werewolf. I think that I know better on the matter."

"And who's been caring for said werewolf since the start of his first year? I'll give you a hint: it certainly wasn't Bufo. I know you, and you'll feel better with friends. In fact, perhaps their presence in this very room is the reason that you're looking so much better right now than you usually are."

Remus wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly. "I... what?"

"I don't know what kind of Disillusionment charms you've used, but I wouldn't be matron if I couldn't hear four boys arguing through a very weak Soundproofing Charm. You need to work on your Soundproofing Charms, Mr. Lupin."

Remus groaned. "It was weak on purpose so that I could hear you coming, but... ugh. Sorry." He looked at his friends, the pain still steadily receding, but they didn't move. "You can come out now," he said. They still didn't move.

"Er..." said James from under the Cloak, "we don't really want to reveal our methods of sneaking. So we're gonna stay hidden. But yeah, you got us, Pomfrey."

Madam Pomfrey smiled slightly. "Your friend was correct, by the way. This was one of the worst possible times that you could have come. But now that you've seen him at his worst, perhaps he'll allow you a few minutes tomorrow afternoon? He'll be significantly better by then."

Remus could feel everybody's eyes on him. "I'm in pain. I'm delusional. I can't make a sound decision at the moment."

"Then make an un-sound one," said an invisible Sirius. "That's what Marauders do."

Remus chuckled, disturbingly tempted. Company would be nice, he supposed. Actually... it had been nice. He loathed to admit it, even to himself, but Professor Questus had been right. Again. "Fine," he said, swiping at the sweat and water droplets from the cloth that were running into his eyes. "Fine. Sure. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow!" said Peter. "Well, today. Since it's midnight and all." Madam Pomfrey had left the door open, and she sat by Remus' bedside while his friends snuck away through the open door.

"Next time you do this, I'm deducting House points. And perhaps I'll give you detention," she called. There was no response, but—judging by James' groan—Remus supposed they'd heard her. Madam Pomfrey turned back to Remus with a self-righteous smirk on her face. "I won't say I told you so..."

Remus was too tired to make an effort to be polite. "Shut up," he mumbled, falling back onto his pillow and closing his eyes.

He'd never tell Madam Pomfrey, but he had a very quiet laughing fit just as soon as her scent disappeared. The full moons were just like clockwork, every month, and now the clock had been broken and was smoking at the seams... but in spite of that (or perhaps because of it), Remus was surprisingly relieved.

AN: I was cleaning my attic today, and I found a stuffed bear from my childhood. Its name was Strawberry. Oddly enough, the bear was blue. Good to see Strawberry again, though I can't for the life of me remember why I called him that—everyone knows that blue bears don't like strawberries.