Remus woke up the next morning and yawned. He hoped that Madam Pomfrey would let him leave the Hospital Wing today, but for now, he would just enjoy the feeling of slowly waking up. The door to Madam Pomfrey's office was closed, but sunlight was streaming underneath it, which told Remus that it was probably late morning or early afternoon. He always slept a lot after full moons. What with losing a full night's sleep to attack himself violently, and then losing some more sleep the following night to endure the loss of the Pain-Relieving Potion... yes, Remus had really needed that long night's sleep, and now he felt well-rested and ready to tackle anything. He yawned again, stretching his back to work out the kinks, and waited for Madam Pomfrey to come check on him.

Then he noticed that he was bleeding through the sheets. Again. Well, that certainly put a damper on things.

He heard Madam Pomfrey bustling about in the other room, so he called for her: she came to check on him almost immediately. "Lupin? What's wrong? Ready for breakfast?"

Remus removed his hand from under his sheets; it was covered in blood. "Er, Madam Pomfrey..."

Madam Pomfrey was by his side in half an instant. "Oh. Oh, my. What happened? Do you have any idea?"

"We must have missed a bit of the wound when we were trying to seal it," Remus said. "It's reopened. It did yesterday, too."

Madam Pomfrey made a frustrated sort of noise. "I'm so sorry, Remus."

"S'not your fault." Remus lifted his shirt—the wound had opened along the edge and was bleeding profusely. "Yeah, right here. There was no silver and Dittany right here to close it all up. It should be fine if you add some right now..." Madam Pomfrey grabbed a cloth and started to clean the wound, and Remus squeaked in surprise. "Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch."

"Sorry, just a second. There." She applied some Dittany with deft, unfortunately experienced hands, and Remus watched as his wound slowly sealed itself.

"That's so cool," he mumbled.

"You have a twisted sense of cool," she teased. "Remus, I'm very sorry I missed that."

"It's fine! Mum and Dad have done it plenty of times. You really can't tell when the whole thing is covered in blood. Besides, it usually knits back together anyway if you get Dittany on part of the wound—but I must have just rolled over in a funny position last night. Happened on that first December full moon, too, remember? The one with Professor Questus."

Madam Pomfrey made a face. "How could I forget?"

"He truly wasn't that bad. It was a bit awkward, but not painfully so. Why do you hate him?"

"I don't hate him. I think I've told you this before."

"But... it's got to be something big. You really, really dislike him. Your heartbeat gets fast."

"Sometimes I really hate those enhanced senses of yours," Madam Pomfrey muttered, and Remus laughed. "He gets on my nerves, that's all. Much like you and Professor Kaitlyn."

Remus considered. "Oh, you mean Pensley. Yes, I suppose that makes sense."

Madam Pomfrey started wrapping Remus' middle in bandages, gently enough that it was mostly painless, but tightly enough that it was effective. "Please be careful, Remus. No one is perfect, least of all Professor Questus. He's a really awful person when it comes to some things. There. All done."

Remus almost wanted to press her further on the topic of Professor Questus, but he decided against it. "May I go to breakfast now?" he asked instead, giving Madam Pomfrey his most winning smile.

She stared. "Absolutely not. You remember what happened on the first December full moon last year, don't you? You're staying at least another day for observation, then more if that wound ends up getting infected. Besides, you've lost a lot of blood, and you're about to get woozy and quite possibly incoherent. It's happened more than once before and it's coming. I can see it in your eyes. Here, take this potion and then go to sleep so that you don't embarrass yourself."

Remus scowled. "Fine."

Madam Pomfrey dropped a cap in the jar.

Sheep: Wound reopened. I have to stay in the Hospital Wing one more day. Let me know how James' game goes!

He stared at the enchanted notebook for what seemed like hours, but there was no response until lunchtime.

Red: He lost. It was only by a few points, and Gryff's still got a chance for the Cup... but he's kinda disappointed.
Nimbus: Shut up. I'm not disappointed.
Goldfish: If it's any consolation, I think you played brilliantly.
Nimbus: SHUT UP.
Red: It wasn't nearly as fun without you, Sheep.
Nimbus: SHUT UP
Sheep: You know what? I'm feeling kind of tired. I'm going to go to sleep. Bye.
Red: You traitor, don't leave him alone with us!
Sheep: Can't hear you over the sounds of my betrayal.

He put the notebook down and then inspected the wound on his stomach. It didn't look infected, and it didn't feel infected—though he was far too drugged on Pain-Relieving Potion to feel anything more than a dull ache. There was no way to tell, really. He sighed and began drafting a letter to Professor Questus. That was all he could do, after all—write letters, drink water, and sleep.

Remus hated the Hospital Wing.

He woke up from a nap at around four pm to a knock at the door. "Hi, James," he called, just as James said, "It's James."

Remus laughed. "Come on in."

James looked the same as ever—all lazy grin, thick-rimmed spectacles, and messy hair. "Hi. How are you?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine. I'm just here on observation. I'm probably okay."

"Ah." Without warning, James sprawled across the floor and sighed. He'd probably been threatened again by Madam Pomfrey to stay off of Remus' bed. "S'comfortable down here, actually."

"People's shoes have been there."

"Yeah, so? I wear shoes all the time. Shoes won't kill you."

Remus laughed, but his heart wasn't really in it. "Where are Sirius and Peter? Out playing a prank?"

"I guess. I dunno."

Well, that hadn't really answered Remus' question. Did Remus dare ask? He wasn't ungrateful, just curious... but he didn't want to come off as the former rather than the latter. He didn't want to complain that it was only James visiting, and he didn't want to insinuate that he wanted his other friends to come if it made them uncomfortable. Remus was grateful for whatever he could get, of course. But still... he was curious. Wasn't there another way to ask that didn't imply that Remus was ungrateful?

"Er... are you arguing?" Remus guessed.

"Nah."

Remus waited for James to say more, but he didn't, so Remus decided to cut to the chase. "Why aren't they here?"

"You wrote in the notebook this morning that a wound reopened, right? Sirius thought there would be blood so he's off doing something else. Peter went with him."

Remus was a little offended that Peter—his best friend—hadn't gone with James to visit Remus, but he shook off the traitorous feeling. "You don't have to be here, James," he said.

"What d'you mean?"

"This is part of the reason that I didn't want you to come. The first reason was that I didn't want you to see me like this, all torn up and ill and bleeding. I didn't want you to see what I could... what I could do on the full moon..."

"I don't care, mate. You're looking okay to me."

"You can only see my face," mumbled Remus. "And sort of my arms. But the other reason was that I knew how... energetic the three of you are. I don't want you feeling obligated to visit me, and banning you completely was the only way to do that."

James huffed in protest. "If we were feeling obligated, then Sirius and Peter would be here. Since when am I one to follow obligation? I broke all of Poppy's rules on my first day here."

He had a point, but Remus still wasn't convinced. "You're twelve. You shouldn't be stuck here with me."

"Okay. I'm basically thirteen. And I'm not stuck." James got up off of the floor and brushed himself off. "See? I can walk around. And leave now, if I wanted to. Do you want me to go? I will."

"No," said Remus quietly. "That's what bothers me. I do want you here."

James sat back down. "Merlin's beard, Sirius was right. You do overcomplicate things. Relax. Can I see it?"

"Er... see what?"

"Your wound. The one that's reopened. Can I see it?"

"May."

"But that's months away!"

Remus rolled his eyes. "I was correcting your grammar."

"I know. I was joking. I've lived with you for two years; I know that you tend to correct people on every little subject when you're feeling uncomfortable."

"It hasn't been two years."

"I rest my case."

"Sometimes I hate you."

"So may I see it, then?"

Remus sighed and considered. Of course he didn't want to show James. It was scabbed over and big and ugly and very clearly came from the claws of a wolf. Besides, there were other scars on his stomach: if Remus showed James that one, he'd have to show him the others. They'd never seen his scars, not really. Remus still changed in the lavatory—not because he was shy, but because he didn't want pity or stares, and that was precisely what was going to happen if he showed James. But he owed James something, didn't he? James was giving up time with Sirius to visit him in the Hospital Wing, after all.

"Sure," Remus said. "But there're other scars there, too, and I really don't want you pitying me or anything like that."

"Do I ever?" said James.

Remus stared at him.

"Okay, fine, maybe sometimes I do," James conceded. "But I only want to help."

"Help. That's all you ever do. You're like an overgrown house-elf," said Remus. He pulled the blankets down and showed James the wound. It was getting a bit better, actually, but it was still bruised and horribly ugly.

"Cool," whispered James.

"You have a twisted sense of cool," said Remus, echoing Madam Pomfrey.

"What's that one from?" said James, poking Remus' hand. "I've seen it before, but I've never asked."

Remus looked at his hand at the spot that James was pointing to—a small chunk torn out of the base of his thumb that had never really grown back. Remus always tried to hide his hands when in public, but he knew that his friends had seen how awful his hands were before. "I don't remember," Remus confessed. "They all kind of blend together, the full moons. I've had tens of them. In fact... this April I'll hit one hundred transformations."

"Woah." James' eyes were comically wide. "So you don't remember that one, either?" He pointed to a long scar across Remus' hand, and Remus cringed.

He did remember that one, actually. He remembered broken glass and a big shaggy creature and pain... and he remembered claws grazing at his skin as the creature pinned its meal down... and he remembered teeth and dripping saliva on his face... and it all happened so quickly; he hadn't even had time to scream before his father was bursting into the room with a glowing wand. But even though it had only lasted a few seconds, he remembered every painful moment, like a series of photographs that Sirius often took in rapid succession when the Marauders were doing something particularly interesting. He remembered how heavy the werewolf was... the telltale snap of one of Remus' ribs as it leaned on top of him... how tiny he'd felt, even more so than he'd usually felt at four years old... and he remembered trying to cover his face with his palm, but the werewolf caught its claws on his hand. The Healers hadn't even noticed until hours later because of the extent of his other injuries. Even Remus hadn't really noticed.

He also remembered trying to grasp the glass of water on his bedside table while recovering in St. Mungo's. His parents had been talking to a Healer in the other room, and Susi had been reading Remus a story. Then Remus remembered the condensation from the glass stinging the gash on his hand... he'd dropped the cup and started crying. It had been odd, to be so badly injured that he simply didn't notice something like that. A wound like that would have made him cry for days before the bite, but at that point, it had been the least of his worries.

"I don't remember that one either," he told James quietly, and then he pulled the covers back up. "You don't mind?"

"Mind what?"

"The scars."

"'Course not."

Remus thought about that. So if it was just James in the room... perhaps he could roll his sleeves up sometimes. His jumpers were large and they constantly got in the way. Or maybe even wear something else in the summer, if only in the dormitory. A neckline that wasn't tightly collared? Perhaps he could leave the top button undone. Short sleeves? No, he wasn't that daring. "You think Peter will mind?" he asked. "I know Sirius will."

"Neither of them will mind. Sirius hates blood, so he'll be fine if there's no blood, I think. And Peter won't care. Peter doesn't care about anything."

"Huh," said Remus.

"In fact, I'm going to beg you to wear something else when the weather is warm. This summer when I visit your house—or you visit mine—or we meet at Peter's—or whatever—I don't want to see you wearing a woolen jumper. It makes me sweat just looking at you."

Remus granted this with a half-smile. "Perhaps," he said. He'd worry about that when the time came. For now, he'd change the subject to something more immediately important. "You have that assignment for Pensley due tomorrow, right?"

James slapped his forehead. "Right! I forgot about that! It's okay, no one's going to do it anyway."

"You got the additional information from Pensley yesterday, though? Like you said you were going to?"

"No. We were too lazy."

"James! What about me? I need those details, too!"

"You missed a few days. She won't make you do it."

"It's Pensley! You can't expect anything rational from her at all!"

"Oh, right. Well, you can afford one bad mark."

Remus groaned. "It's not about the assignment; it's about being trusted. I work really hard to earn the professors' trust, and skipping assignments isn't something I want on my already-tarnished reputation."

"When did you tarnish your reputation?"

"I'm a werewolf."

"No one cares that much. You're overthinking it."

"Everyone cares that much! Except for you, Sirius, and Peter... but you three are just weird."

"You're the weird one."

"I know." Remus sighed. "Well, if all else fails, I suppose that Madam Pomfrey will vouch for me. Anyway. Tell me about the Quidditch game."

James' face suddenly became an iron mask. "The Slytherins cheated. They deserved a foul! And maybe the foul wouldn't have gotten us enough points to get ahead, but it definitely ruined our Seeker's morale! The Slytherins knew it was going to happen and they..."

Remus leaned back and listened to James babble, pretending to agree. It was nice when the attention wasn't on him.

Dear Professor Questus,

Do I overcomplicate things? Is it annoying?

—R.J.L

Lupin—

Absolutely. Haven't I been telling you that for months now? And don't call me Professor. Now, you asked a simple question, but I assume that you want a detailed answer... so here it is (mostly because I'm painfully bored and have nothing to do but write you a long letter).

I don't think that children ought to be coddled. You know I don't. But I will admit that childhood development is paramount to adult psychology, and your current circumstances culminate from nearly eight years of being a werewolf. Being around your parents constantly, not to mention being in a society that hates you, has had a strange effect on you. You seem to be self-centered in terms of suffering, but others-centered in terms of benefits. Which is an odd combination; most people are the opposite. You have been told all your life by society that you are lesser and deserve to be treated as such, you have been taught by your parents (though not purposefully) that your condition is shameful and should be treated as such, and I'm sure the books that you read on werewolves told you that you were a monster and should be treated as such.

All of those "treated as suches" add up—and now, when you find that you're not being "treated as such" (i.e. being despised and ignored), you are trying to force yourself into new circumstances that don't exist. Your friends don't hate you, so you've created a world in your head in which they do. You are martyring yourself constantly because you think that you should be treated worse than you actually are. It's simply what you've been expecting, so you made it come true.

It isn't completely your fault, as I've already said. Your mindset culminates from past experiences, and your past experiences were out of your control. But I do believe that you have more control over your mental state than you think you do. Mind over matter, Lupin. Fact is, you need to stop deluding yourself and face reality. Yes, it's important to see danger where it is present, but a keen mind can also recognize when danger is NOT present. Conserve your energy for actual danger, Lupin. It's not that hard. You're complaining, but you're not working very hard to fix it.

And it is annoying. It's tiring. You're very self-pitying, even though you were the one who worked yourself into such situations. You're too focused on making other people's lives perfect: you think that they're superior and should have perfect lives simply because of their species, which is idiotic. Everything always has to be about you—but when it is, you complain about pity and special treatment.

Some of this is good. The vast majority of people need to be more others-centered and more self-sacrificing. It's only dangerous when being others-centered is done out of hatred for oneself instead of genuine empathy for others. Of course I don't stop trying to help your friends and make their lives as perfect as possible—just change your motives. And for the love of all that is holy, don't treat them like they're made out of china. That's exactly what you don't want them doing to you, so have a little empathy.

I assume this has to do with their visits. Here's what I want you to do: make it clear that they are not required to visit you (which I'm sure you've already done). If they continue to visit you, then that means that they want to. So let them. I don't like to give compliments, but I don't believe that you have an ego to inflate in the first place—so I'll admit that you are a genuinely interesting person. They probably like spending time with you. Is that really so hard to believe?

Now that you've considered their needs, consider your own. Do you want company?

If you just said "no," then you're doing one of two things: either you're still considering them over you (which you just did in Step One, so you can stop that), or you're lying to yourself just to prove me wrong (which is futile since we both know that I'm right).

You really are stupid sometimes.

You can do what you want every once in a while instead of constantly punishing yourself, you know. You may not be human, but you're still a person. Let people like you. They're only doing the same thing as you are. For someone so ridiculously empathetic at times, you don't realize that your thoughts are often exactly the same as theirs.

I have (grudgingly) named the houseplant Edward. I hope you're happy.

—Q.

AN: I wrote over 26,000 words since last Sunday! My buffer chapters are building :D