Dear Professor Questus,

You traitor. You absolute traitor. Why'd you go and tell my friends to visit me? I'm fine, and I definitely don't need their company! You know, they came and visited me at midnight. Midnight! The day after the full moon! You remember the night after the first December full moon, don't you? It was the worst time they could have possibly come, and you know that! You could have at least made it clearer that they were to them to wait until I was awake and coherent. They're visiting again later today and I regret everything. I wonder if I can hide under the potions cabinet. There are fifty potions now, by the way. I count every couple of hours, just in case it changes. There's nothing else to do, really.

James and Sirius and Peter were trying to get ahold of me through the enchanted notebook yesterday, but I didn't see it (and I didn't expect it, to be frank, so I wasn't really looking). Quidditch practice was canceled yesterday due to rain, and James is LIVID. It's stopped storming now, so the Slytherin/Hufflepuff game is still on for Saturday, but that's not soothed James any. I suspect he only wants to visit me because he wants someone else to complain to—Peter and Sirius seem to be growing weary of his constant whinging.

There are about forty pages on "distraction" in your duelling notes. Care to elaborate? I don't really understand why you focused more on distraction techniques than blocking spells. Aren't blocking spells more important?

Also, Professor Dumbledore said that your houseplant needs a name, and I think that you should name it Edward. That's what I wanted to name your cat, but you wouldn't listen—and look how THAT turned out. Now that poor cat has just about the worst name in existence.

Edward, on the other hand, is a nice, respectable name. It also means "prosperous", which is appropriate for an invincible houseplant. Besides, you owe me. You told my friends to come visit me the night after the full moon, so I'm taking my revenge by making an executive decision on your houseplant's name.

Sirius wants to know what you can play on the piano. He offered to teach you. I would be very wary of that offer if I were you; when he offered to teach me to play better chess, I ended up with feathers in my hair. James taught him that feather spell, he said, so now all three of you are total traitors. Peter's the only one that I like right now.

Only joking,
R.J. Lupin

P.S. MOSTLY joking, that is. I'm still quite cross that you TOLD MY FRIENDS TO COME VISIT ME. Seriously?!

Lupin—

I know it seems like a lot to ask, but trust me. I know what I'm doing.

As for distraction—I do seem to remember writing a disproportionate amount of pages on it in that duelling notebook. You know, that was the tactic that I was known for back in the Auror department. Distraction is quite possibly the most valuable weapon that you have: it is one of the only tactics that can be adjusted to fit the opponent. Try as you might, you can never improve your own abilities in the middle of a duel. However, you can impair your opponents' abilities—and talent, after all, is only measured by how much better you are than everybody else. Impair their abilities, and you've increased your relative talent.

I definitely recommend learning to hold a conversation while duelling. If you practice enough, you can be just as good at casting spells whilst talking about something else as you are casting spells when you're focused. Most people can't do that; they have to pick one. The trick is getting into a rhythm and establishing patterns of attack—sort of like chess, actually. When chess masters memorize positions and patterns of attack, there's less critical thinking on the spot, and that's exactly what I want you to do when duelling. Once you start establishing patterns of attack, you can recognize the most convenient patterns in your opponents (thus predicting what they'll do next). That's on page one-hundred-one, I believe.

It is an odd fact that people like to show off, even at the expense of their own dignities (ironically enough). If you start trying to hold a conversation with an opponent, he or she will usually try to keep up the conversation (I don't know why; perhaps because they want to prove themselves), and chances are, it won't work out. It takes a lot of practice to be able to be block and cast spells while holding intelligent discussion. That's why wizarding parents so often tell their children "don't talk to me while I'm doing chores!" I don't know if you've been told that by your father, but my mother was a witch and she said it four times a day.

One time I was duelling with another Auror—her name was Samantha—and she was able to hold discussion for quite a bit. I was slightly impressed in spite of myself, so I tried to ramp it up past normal pleasantries. She lost focus as soon as I asked her to tell me about her grandfather. Fortunately, he'd just died (lucky guess!), and she wasn't comfortable enough talking about him to hold her focus. I won the duel, of course. Personal topics normally do the trick, especially if they're sensitive as well. Death Eaters, of course, aren't typically interested in conversation (unless they're particularly insufferable and arrogant, in which case they are terrifyingly easy to bring down). But merely asking the questions will often cause a person to lose focus, even if you don't receive an answer. It's not in human nature to ignore a question, so sometimes ignoring it takes more focus than answering the thing.

Of course, this only works at close range. I specialize in close-range duelling, so a lot of the information in that book is on the topic. There are other methods of distraction, of course—you remember the Boggart that I used during one of our duelling lessons last year. It's important to be creative, and multi-tasking is a must.

"Edward" is the most boring name for a plant that I can think of. Then again, you're the most boring person that I can think of (save one night a month). I'm going to have to pass on that name. Think of something more fitting for an immortal plant created by the most powerful wizard in the world. (My parents named me "John". I'm not a fan of boring names. I know you won't have children, but please don't name anything or anyone something boring like John or Edward. It's been a curse of a name my whole life long, and I'm sure you know all about lifelong curses.)

Please tell Black that I must respectfully decline his piano lessons due to the regrettable fact that I don't like him very much. Also: don't call me Professor.

—J.Q.

Dear Professor Questus,

Seeing as you breached my trust, I think I've every right to name the plant whatever I want. My middle name is John, you know. Simple names are perfectly respectable. And I don't think you should be complaining about your name when mine is REMUS LUPIN, which is quite possibly the worst name for a werewolf that exists on this planet and beyond it. I think that

Remus stopped writing, closed his eyes, and inhaled. His friends were walking down the corridor—he could hear them chattering. They'd be there any second. He tried to make himself presentable, but he only succeeded in mussing his hair. He'd taken a bath that morning, yes, but it was hard to care about personal hygiene—he simply didn't have the energy this time of month, and no one usually saw him besides Madam Pomfrey (and last year, Professor Questus)... but today was different, for better or for worse. Remus' friends were coming.

Remus' friends were coming.

Butterflies zoomed around in Remus' stomach, and he couldn't tell whether they were nervous butterflies or excited butterflies. Perhaps a bit of both?

"Most excellent Poppy," said James from the other room. Remus could just imagine him sweeping into a low Pureblood bow. "May we be permitted to see our ill friend?"

There was a swishing noise of fabric, and Remus assumed that Sirius had also bowed. "We solemnly swear that we will not make too much noise—"

"Or be too clingy—"

"Or be annoying."

"We shall be ever so quiet and understanding."

"Very well," said Madam Pomfrey, clearly amused. "I imagine he's as ready as he'll ever be. Isn't that right, Lupin?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Remus, but he doubted anyone heard him. He never could quite predict the extent of human hearing.

Madam Pomfrey opened the door, and James came barreling into the room. "REMUS!"

"So much for quiet," Remus muttered.

Madam Pomfrey smiled, closed the door behind them, and then Conjured a couple of chairs. "It seems to me that we need to go over a few rules," she said to Remus' friends, ushering them into the Conjured chairs. "Be quiet. It doesn't matter how quietly you speak; he'll hear you."

"I know that," said James, grinning, "I just like annoying him."

"There will be no purposeful annoying of my patient! Furthermore, you will stay on these chairs the whole time—do not sit on his bed, do not take his pillows, do not... I don't know. Don't be yourselves!" Madam Pomfrey exited the room with one final huff. "He needs rest!" she called through the door. "Your only job is to make his rest more eventful! And only twenty minutes, maximum!"

There was silence. Peter shuffled his feet. Remus tried not to look too ill. Was his face pale? Were his eyes bloodshot? Was this awkward? Oh, it was awkward. He knew that it would be. If only...

Suddenly, James bounded towards Remus and sat at the foot of his bed. "Budge over," he said. "I'm gonna try to sit next to you. There's plenty of room for two. Here, I'll sit between you and the wall..."

"Madam Pomfrey said that you needed to sit in a chair," protested Remus. James' hand brushed against his wounds as he tried to push Remus over, and Remus winced. "Please be careful."

"I am being careful. And we're Marauders—we don't follow rules. I'm doing this purely to spite her, in true Marauder fashion. What were her other instructions?"

"Don't nick his pillows," Sirius offered. He took a firm hold of Remus' pillow and yanked it out from under his head. Remus yelped as his head hit the bare mattress. "There, that rule's broken, too."

"I'm gonna come over there, too," said Peter, and he climbed over Remus' legs to sit on the bed along with Remus and James. "She also said not to be ourselves."

"Don't see why she would want me to be anyone else," said James, stretching. His arms hit Remus' head. He was a bit too close for comfort—the bed really wasn't meant for two, much less three. Remus couldn't understand how his friends could stand to be so close to him. Even Remus didn't want to be close to himself this time of month.

"James," he said wearily, "I transformed back from being a murderous werewolf who wants to kill you... oh, a little over twenty-four hours ago. Are you sure that you want to be so close to me?"

"Well, you don't want to kill me anymore, do you?" said James. He flicked Remus on the cheek. "Well, maybe you do a little, but in the friendly sort of way. Stop being so annoyingly self-deprecating, Remus. It gets super tiring. So what do you want to do? Play chess? Even though you're awful at it?"

Sirius was swinging Remus' pillow around. "D'you think I can Transfigure this into a peanut?"

"Stop Transfiguring things into peanuts, Sirius," said James. "Nobody likes peanuts. Chocolate cake would be better."

"I could go for an éclair," said Peter. "What do you want, Remus?"

"I want my pillow back, thank you very much."

"Not a chance," said Sirius.

"It's like you three want another detention."

"Detentions are sorta fun with the two-way mirrors, actually. And we like seeing Filch angry."

"Do you like seeing me angry? If you didn't, you'd give the pillow back."

"Oh, please. You've never gotten angry a day in your life."

"I'm just good at hiding it."

"A peanut would be easy to hide," Sirius mused.

The friendly banter continued until Madam Pomfrey came back in to dismiss Remus' friends and to force Remus to take a nap. She stepped into her office and looked between James (who was smushed between Remus and the wall), Sirius (who was swinging around Remus' pillow), and Peter (who was contentedly leaning against James and Remus). "I can't say I didn't expect this to happen," she said flatly. "You three need to learn the rules. I may be the school matron, but I can still give detentions and take House points. Mr. Lupin, you haven't yet napped today and I very much would like you to get some sleep before supper..."

"We can come back for supper, right?" said James, climbing over a protesting Remus. "Eat it in here with Remus? We haven't even given him his notes or caught him up on how awful Pensley was Friday. In fact, she assigned us a poem to read, and I think the assignment would be more fun if we did it together... also, I had this weird dream about pudding and fire ants that I think he'll find funny."

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "What say you, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus smiled back. "I say absolutely."

For a long time, the Hospital Wing had been a lonely, sacred sanctuary. It was a place for Remus to breathe—a place for him to get reacquainted with his human exterior before going out into the din and hubbub of regular classes, mealtimes, and peers. It was a quiet, white room with nothing to do but count ceiling tiles and potions bottles. Adults were his only company, and the moon was his only thought.

Now, though, Madam Pomfrey's office had been transformed into a place of color, noise, and light. It was noisy, it was distracting, and Remus wasn't about to get any sort of rest whatsoever. It didn't even feel like the same room.

But Remus had always hated the Hospital Wing, after all, and this was an excellent change of pace.

"And then the fire ant—his name was Robert—asked me why I didn't share my pudding with him, I told him that it was because he was a bit of a hothead!" James finished, laughing himself silly. Peter joined in, but Sirius and Remus only shook their heads. Upon noticing his friends' bemused expressions, James stopped laughing. "Yeah, you're right. It sounded more clever when I was dreaming it. Anyway, let's do that poetry assignment."

"Since when do you lot do homework?" Remus asked.

"Since we got this assignment. Our job is to memorize a poem—which is your specialty, Remus—and read it in front of the class. And the poem has to be from Mindfulness Made Easy. You know, that dumb poetry book that Pensley wrote."

Remus rolled his eyes. "See, if the poetry had been good this might have been a decent assignment. If we'd had to incorporate DAD tactics somehow... perhaps choreograph spellwork... this could have been good. But no! It's just poetry! Why is DAD turning into a drama class?"

"I like it," said Peter. "Pensley told me yesterday that I had good form."

"Oh! Were you finally working on casting spells? At least that's useful. Professor Questus always told me that I had bad form when it came to casting spells, and it really helped me improve..."

"No. Not 'good form' when we were casting spells. 'Good form' when we were doing interpretive dance."

"Oh," said Remus scornfully.

"She adores Peter," said Sirius. "Sorry. Not Peter. Leonardo."

Remus tried to laugh, but it came out rather bitterly. "Did she assign us poems, or do we have to choose one? And is it a group project?"

"Er... I don't remember," said James, and Remus nearly smacked him.

"James! You idiot! Please tell me that one of you listened."

"I listened," said Peter. "I just... don't remember. Ooh! I remember that it's due next class, no excuses."

Remus groaned. "Go find her and talk to her after you're done visiting me, okay? We can work on it tomorrow. It wasn't that bad this month, so I should be out tomorrow. Oh, James! There's a Quidditch game today, right?"

"No, tomorrow. It was moved because of the storm."

"He'll probably start getting all nervous and grumpy tomorrow over breakfast," said Sirius in a stage whisper. "I would actually stay in the Hospital Wing for a bit longer if I were you, mate."

James bristled. "I do not get nervous. Or grumpy."

"Sure. Right."

"Five more minutes," called Madam Pomfrey from the main ward.

Remus turned to look at Sirius. Sirius had been going through the right motions all day—participating in banter like he normally did and saying all the normal Sirius-y things. But there was something else there... something that Remus had suspected would be there, and he felt awful about it. He pressed his lips together and twiddled his bedsheets between his thumb and index finger. "Er... I had a question," said Remus. "For Sirius. Before you go."

"Ask away," said Sirius. He was chewing on a chicken bone and simultaneously trying to spear peas on his fork with the other.

"Could we... I mean... it's not a secret or anything, but..."

James pulled Peter out of the room. "Yep! See you tomorrow! Sleep well and all that!"

The door shut, and Remus blinked.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," he said. "James doesn't usually let things go."

Sirius was impassive and emotionless as ever. "He only did that because he knows I'll tell him later. We've got detentions all next week during lunch break anyhow for hexing Snape. We talk about everything in detention."

"Why... did you do that, by the way? Hex Snape, I mean."

"Wanted to. Snape's a git. No other reason, really. And James was trying to get up enough happy memories to cast a Patronus."

Remus didn't think that hexing people would create a strong enough happy memory to cast a Patronus, but James was an odd one, so anything was possible. "Do you know why making Snape miserable makes James so happy?" he asked

Sirius stared at him, scrutinizing. "S'like you said. James doesn't let things go. Hexing Snape is a project, and James loves projects."

"...Right."

"So what was it you wanted to ask me that was so important and private? Was that it? Because that was sort of a dumb secret conversation, mate."

"No... er... I just wanted to..." Remus sighed. "Wanted to ask you about... just tell you that..."

"Spit it out, mate."

"Fine. Why are you here visiting me if you're afraid of blood?"

Sirius made a face and pushed his food away. "Why'd you have to go and mention that over supper?"

"Well, sorry. I was trying to insinuate without explicitly mentioning, but you told me to spit it out."

"Insinuate without explicitly mentioning..." mocked Sirius. "Are you fifty? Yeah, okay, fine. I'm not 'scared of blood', Remus. I'm uncomfortable. It sort of disgusts me. That's all there is to it. I'm not scared."

"My point still stands."

Sirius set his plate down and leaned against the wall, arms crossed in a perfectly Sirius-ish manner. "I know what it's like to be bored and stuck somewhere, don't I? I was alone and bored in my house for eleven years, and it was awful. I want to help, because I would hate being here if I were you. The Hospital Wing's awful."

"If you hate it here, then why... are you voluntarily trapping yourself in here with me?"

There was a long silence. "Do you want to know the truth?" said Sirius finally.

"Of course."

"Fine. Yeah, I'd rather be gallivanting about with James. In fact, I tried to convince him to ditch you two at the beginning of our first year. I like you, mate, but you're slow. Just in general. You walk slowly, you don't run much, you talk slowly, you study a lot but you're slow on the uptake, and you're really, really slow to get used to new things and circumstances and stuff. And Pete's just incompetent. James and me are, like, one person. We're quicker and brighter than the two of you. Sometimes it feels like we're just waiting for you and Pete to catch up. It's exhausting."

Remus felt his blood running cold. They didn't really like him. They were just sticking with him out of pity, and Remus hated pity. He'd been afraid of this. "James and I," he managed, succeeding in correcting Sirius' grammar in the thick of it (even with an impossibly tight throat).

"Yeah, yeah." Sirius started to smile a bit. "I said I like you, you know, and I wasn't lying. I couldn't really imagine Hogwarts without you. You're funny and sarcastic and you understand what I'm going through more than anyone else. I was devastated when I found out that you were a werewolf and thought that you were dangerous all along, you know? And I was just as adamant as James about getting you back. Then I was feeling all guilty about making all those mean comments about werewolves, and I don't feel guilty very often, so that was a big thing."

He stopped talking, and Remus heard him swallow. "I hated thinking that I was just like my family," he mumbled. "Because I hate them. Detest them. Want to be my own person. So I made amends and here we are, and I missed you. And I've stopped trying to ditch you and Peter since then... because I didn't know how much I liked having you around till you left. I sound sappy, don't I?"

"Any more and you'd be a tree," said Remus, but he was smiling.

"But James—James likes you even more. He's stupidly loyal. And... well, look, Remus... you're brilliant and all, but James is my best mate. I'm just gonna go wherever he does. Even if it's here." Sirius looked around at the walls. "It's so quiet and lonely in here. And I really... don't like... blood. But James really wants to be here, so I'm coming too. If it were just me... well, I'd visit you a couple of times, but I wouldn't eat in here and do homework with you and talk for hours and come at midnight like James wants to do."

"You needn't," said Remus. "I'm serious. If you don't want to be here, then I don't want you here, either."

"But I do want to be here. Because James is coming."

"I'll tell James not to visit me so much. He didn't listen to me last time, but he might listen to me this time... or you can talk to him about it..."

"James will hate me for not being loyal enough."

"James could never hate you."

Sirius threw up his hands. "And we could never hate you! You're taking everything the wrong way, Remus! I'm not saying that I don't want to visit you! I'm saying that it was James' idea! I don't mind, I like you, and you're our friend. I just wanted to give it to you straight, because you asked for it, even though it wasn't relevant... but now you're twisting it into some ridiculous self-pitying spiel!"

"Oh. Sorry."

"If I complain to James, then he says, 'Sorry, mate, that sucks.' If I complain to you, then you say, 'Oh no! Will pitching myself off a bridge help?'"

Remus tilted his head. "I'm confused. Do you want to visit me or not?"

"Yes! Why do you always have to make such a big deal out of everything? Merlin's beard, Remus, you're annoying sometimes. The world's a lot simpler than you think it is. I want to visit you. It's a lot more fun in here than roaming the corridors all alone. Got it?"

"Er... yeah. Got it."

"Just tell me if you're bleeding or something so that I can look somewhere else."

"Of course."

"And be yourself. You're too tense. We're not going to hate you because you're injured; that's ridiculous. You're ridiculous."

"Okay." Remus tried to un-tense himself. "Thank you, Sirius."

"You're welcome. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow." Remus watched the now-irritable Sirius go, feeling entirely conflicted. But just before Sirius left the room, Remus called him back. "Oi. Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"About what you were saying... I was wondering... would pitching myself off a bridge help?"

Sirius groaned good-naturedly, shot sparks at Remus, and the tension was broken. But after he left, Remus lied in bed, thinking about Sirius' words.

The world's a lot simpler than you think it is.

Huh. Maybe it was.

AN: Did you know that camels are much better at swimming than they are at walking? Well, I should hope you didn't know that, because it's a total lie.