Author's note: CW for self-harm (scratching, digging at self), emetophobia, words that 'feel like a knife', and reference to child death.

Because of things going on, I'm not going to get any extra chapters out this month so it will only be today and next Tuesday. Hopefully in September I'll be able to go back to the one-two-one-two releases.

Also I want to add since I know it's been on a lot of minds, it is going to be a while before Remus and Sirius get together. I'm going to go ahead and say it, it's absolutely not going to be in this (the third year) book. I wasn't going to say anything but I know a lot of you have really been wanting them to get together asap. While I am super excited about them finally getting together too, unfortunately it is going to be a while. Sorry guys!

-x-

Tuesday mornings were always the worst, in Remus's opinion. Having to get up for Arithmancy after staying up for a midnight Astronomy lesson was always exhausting. If it was any other class it wouldn't be so bad but Arithmancy…

Remus was writing his name down again and adding it up for something new. His first name added up to 22, which was a special number for this sort of thing so he didn't reduce it to four. When he added everything together and reduced it to the lowest, it was a six.

"… and who got six?" Talkalot asked after talking about numbers one through five. Remus reluctantly raised his hand along with a couple of others. "A six for your expression number means you are naturally inclined to help others, to put their needs before your own. You like to help people solve their problems and hate conflict, though you might have a lot of inner conflict yourself, and work hard at trying to fix that."

Remus tried not to throw down his quill.

"You idealize relationships. Whether romantic or friends. You are also creative, though tend to give up what time you have for yourself to help others. Additionally, you tend to meddle perhaps too much in what is going on with those you care about, to try to fix things."

He slid lowered in his seat, hoping his face wasn't burning. Arithmancy really was the worst.

Talkalot beamed. "In the end, if your expression number is a six you should look into becoming a designer, a herbologist or gardener… or if you want to do something with other people… a healer or a teacher. Now, who got the number seven?"

-X-

"Boy, Remus, that fit you."

Remus wanted to tell Aegis to shut up, but didn't want to offend his friend. "I know," he grumbled, pretending to look for something in his bag so he could keep his head down.

"You would make a good teacher," Aegis continued, hugging his Arithmancy book to his chest.

"Yours was spot on too, you know," Remus said, maybe a little too harshly.

Aegis went slightly pink. "I suppose."

"Determined? Hungry to find answers to mysteries? Interested in pursuits of the mind and philosophy?" He decided not to add that expression number sevens also tended to shut others out and keep themselves locked away. "You would make a terrific researcher."

"Thank you. You shall be the teacher and I, a researcher."

"It sounds like a plan," Remus agreed, wishing it could be true. Then a tiny little thought bubbled up in his mind: one day perhaps if werewolves weren't quite as hated… someone could form a school for them. Not like the reservations where some werewolves were shipped off to, but a school like Hogwarts. Away from others, safe. Perhaps then he could be a teacher…

Then he shook his head. Almost every single werewolf was made when they were older. The youngest ones tended to be around Fawley's sister's age, mid-teens, and even that was rare. A school for werewolves would be useless since most werewolves were educated already in some form. Except wild, feral ones… but they wouldn't be going to a school anyway.

They went into Muggle Studies together and split up to their usual seats. The other Marauders weren't there yet, so Remus spent the time going over his Arithmancy notes. By the time the other Marauders arrived, Remus was staring at Sirius's expression number which was also six… and a total laugh. He and Sirius weren't very alike… but then, as he thought about what Talkalot had said, it did make sense. The parts about number six that didn't match Remus did seem to match Sirius, especially the creativity part and the need to have his own way. And Sirius would make a good designer, with his love for art. In addition, the number six also had a possible love for animals which definitely suited Sirius from what Remus could tell.

He pushed everything in his bag, convincing himself he would have done all the Marauders if he had had time, and when Muggle Studies ended he completely forgot to check out James and Peter's numbers.

-X-

After a day full of lessons, pranks, and an awkward encounter with Magpie after Divination, it was time for Occlumency. Sirius wasn't hanging out since he had detention. James supposedly did too, however he was fine skipping. Occlumency was more important.

"You don't get detentions on these nights," James pointed out.

"Because they know I am busy," Remus said. "You should have gone to detention, it might raise their suspicions if you're not there…"

"Puh-lease, I skip out on detention half the time anyway, they won't suspect anything."

Remus left James and Peter in the secret passage before going into the room where Miss Fawley waited. He smiled when he saw her, and she smiled back when he greeted her. She noted he seemed to sound like he was in a good mood and he admitted that he was feeling fairly good today. The Hogsmeade visit had been a lot of fun, and he told her about some of it before realizing he was rambling.

"It's fine," she laughed when he apologized. "I enjoy hearing you talk about things you've had fun doing."

They chatted for a few more minutes, this time about the weird gossip program, and then Fawley began going into his memories. This time he couldn't stop thinking about Hogsmeade and most of the attempts landed them there. Fawley saw them buying pranks in Zonko's, eating chips in the Three Broomsticks, and Remus watching as the three boys goaded each other into going over the fence towards the house.

He did his best to push her out and began to feel that pressure building up with each attempt until finally one attempt ended with a starburst of pain in his head. He resisted the urge to groan, clenching his teeth to keep any noise down. Despite the pain, though, he did manage to push her out of his head while they watched him browsing through the bookshop. Fawley praised him, probably a little too much. He felt like a young kid attempting to walk. He had done this before, he didn't need to be treated like that… but he kept his opinions to himself.

At fifteen till seven they stopped and let Remus rest for a moment before Fawley tried going into the memory of that October night so long ago. Like usual it was full of fog and blurriness, muffled voices, and a few lines said clearly. Nothing had changed, nothing new was seen or heard.

Fawley left his head and he sank back, rubbing between his eyes. He noticed she was frowning and worried she'd try to give up. "We can try again, can't we?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry, I was thinking… there is… something very strange about what's going on."

"My memory, you mean? Something strange with my memory?"

She nodded, rubbing the side of her neck. "Remus, you told me your parents were quite adamant about not talking about that night—"

He shot forward, terrified now she'd stop. "I want to know, I deserve to know!"

She held up her hand. "I know. I'm only thinking. Wondering. May I try something? If my theory is wrong, nothing will happen. If I'm right, it might hurt for a second but only a second or two."

He tilted his head, wondering what she was talking about. He consented, trusting her wholly. Instead of putting her hand to his head she took her wand out, pressing the tip against his temple. His heart began pounding a little at the feel of it. It was a frightening experience having a wand pressed to your head.

She spoke a long spell that he didn't recognize, but judging from the words it had something to do with forcing memories to return. Just as he wondered what it would do he felt a sharp pain spike through his head with enough force that his head tilted back and he let out a loud gasp. She was correct; the pain only lasted at most two seconds before it felt like icy watery snakes slithering around in his brain. Not solid, not liquid, but cool and slick. The 'snakes' jumbled up, twisting around on one another until it felt like no more could fit in his head… and then they broke apart. It didn't hurt when they broke apart, instead it felt like gentle hands sliding their fingers along his brain until they rested in a careful hold before fading into nothing.

"It hurt," she said distantly.

"Wh-what was that?" he whispered shakily, pushing himself into a straighter position on the couch. He felt a little dizzy and lightheaded.

Fawley looked angry. "Someone tampered with your memory. Your memory of that night. I am assuming your father."

Remus stared up at her in shock. "Tamp…? What?"

"He didn't fully suppress it or remove it which could have caused damage to you, and possibly not work," she said, her tone clipped and tight. "He only bogged it down, made it distant and foggy. Because it's a memory from your early childhood, that isn't difficult to do. Some people do that when they've gone through something traumatic." She lifted her hand like she was going to touch her face but then dropped it instead. "Part of me wishes to think that is why he did it, so you wouldn't remember being torn up by a werewolf."

Remus put his own hands to his head. His father had put spells on his memory? Was that why he had memory problems sometimes? "What do you mean? By—by part of you?" It did make some sort of twisted sense, that his father would want to protect him like that.

Fawley swallowed, tilting her head down as she let out a long sigh. "Remus. There are some things I suspect about you. About… why you were bitten."

"I—I was bitten because I went out at night and—and a werewolf—a were—a—" He stopped, unable to continue. Confusion gripped him too tightly.

She gently cupped his face. "My dear boy, that may be true however there is something about… about your father…"

"What about him?" he asked when she fell silent. Did Fawley know something? And never said?!

"I knew him, when he was at the Ministry," she said and Remus almost reeled back. "I didn't know him personally. I knew of him. And his… extreme anti-werewolf views. My friend, Ant, hated him whenever anything about werewolves came up since he would… tend to go on rants."

"What does that have to do with me being bitten?" he asked, voice rising into a squeak as some cold dread began filling his limbs. As if part of him knew he was on the precipice of finding out something he didn't want to know.

"It might come up," she whispered. "And I want you to be prepared for that."

"What might come up?" he demanded, squashing down the voices he did remember from that night,

He's going to become one of them!

You're scaring him!

You don't understand he was BIT!

Remus asking his mother this summer if his father wanted him healed.

Wanted him alive.

Fawley didn't say anything, so Remus gulped and said, "I want to."

"You're certain?"

No.

"Yes."

Her fingertips slid against his temples and he closed his eyes, throat tightening as he tried to remember that night. They were sucked in… and this time there was no fog.

-X-

His parents, arguing. About someone. His mother scared, his father confident. His fingers in his mouth. His father snapping now, at his mother.

"If it wanted revenge, it could have done so last month."

A noise behind him. Child-Remus turned and saw nothing, but teen-Remus and Fawley could see: the window, opening on its own. Goosebumps spread across teen-Remus's body and he clutched his middle.

"If it tries to attack the house, I'll kill it."

Another noise. Child-Remus turned, amber eyes wide with fright but seeing nothing.

Teen-Remus saw.

A dark figure sliding through his window with ease, nearly silent. Disappearing into the shadows.

Child-Remus went to the bed to grab the blanket before going to the window. Teen-Remus's heart leapt into his throat as he knew what he saw at four: a big, dark shape prowling under his window. But behind him the figure emerged, pale skin glowing, eyes practically glowing. A slight sneer on his face, his lips parted.

Fangs.

A vampire.

The vampire grabbed child-Remus, covering his mouth so he couldn't scream. Teen-Remus hugged himself, tears springing in his eyes as he remembered the stone-like arms gripping him.

The vampire jumped, and teen-Remus and Fawley were drawn down with them onto the ground, where the vampire landed gracefully as a werewolf stepped closer. The werewolf's fangs were wet with saliva as his eyes locked on child-Remus. The vampire threw him to the ground, and teen-Remus remembered the thudding, cracking feeling inside his body.

The wolf stepped onto child-Remus, holding him down. From above: Lyall's voice. He was leaning out the window. The vampire laughed, telling Lyall to watch as the wolf bit into child-Remus's arm.

Teen-Remus cried out in pain, grabbing his scar, feeling those teeth again sliding through his flesh, digging into his body. Lyall leaped from the window. Then the werewolf let go of him and licked the spot, bloody drool smearing across his tiny, mangled arm.

"Enjoy your soulless son now, Lupin," the vampire called out. "Does he deserve death too?"

The vampire Disapparated and the wolf ran.

Lyall grabbed child-Remus, sobbing in a way that teen-Remus had never remembered hearing his father cry before.

The dining room. Child-Remus on the table. The memory was going grey and dim around the edges as child-Remus slipped in and out of consciousness.

"Won't work, it won't work," Lyall gasped out as Hope brought in jars. She mentioned the Ministry. "They'll just KILL HIM!"

"Then I'll take care of it."

"It bit him, it bit him!"

"Lyall, move!"

Lyall stared hard at child-Remus, tears leaving trails down his face. "He's going to become one of them… He's gonna turn. He's gonna become one…"

"You're scaring him."

"Hope, you don't understand! HE WAS BIT!"

Hope yelled back in a way teen-Remus had never heard her before, before turning back to her baby, singing to him as she stroked his temples and the memory dimmed even more.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…"

Things began fading, going black now.

"You make me happy… when skies are grey…"

The only things visible were his father slumped on the floor and his mother bent over his broken, bleeding body.

"You'll never know dear, how much I love you…"

Lyall faded and a ghostly, near-gone vision of Hope and Remus flickered before disappearing into the abyss as well, the only thing remaining her voice echoing faintly through the darkness...

"Please don't take my sunshine away…"

-X-

Remus was sobbing.

He hunched on the ground, arms around himself, rocking back and forth as he cried, and cried, and cried. Fawley knelt next to him, her hand against his back which he barely felt.

"Remus…"

"…on p-pur-purpo-pose," he choked out, trying to hunch into an even smaller ball. "I w-w-was atta—haaa… attacked on… on purpose…"

Her arms went around him, folding him into a hug.

"He bit me…"

He remembered snippets of his parents' arguments. Hope worried that something was going to attack them. The werewolf. His father calling the werewolf an it.

Enjoy your soulless son now, does he deserve death too?

"My—my—my faa—father…"

"Remus…"

He lifted his face, looking up at Fawley through the tears. "He w-w-was—wanted—he wanted—werewolves—to—die?"

Fawley was silent as she brushed back his damp hair. Then, "Yes," she said softly, voice full of pain. "I wasn't sure if you knew or not and by the time I realized you didn't… I didn't think it was my place to—"

He shoved her away, using his strength. Fawley cried in pain as she was flung away from him and he knew he left bruises on her abdomen. He staggered to his feet, rage coursing through his body.

"He wanted us dead?!"

Fawley's face was turned towards his voice, tears trickling along her face too.

He looked down at his hands, at his fingers, at his veins. It felt like his blood was on fire, burning through every inch of him as realization dawned on him.

No wonder his parents never wanted to talk about it.

It wasn't his fault.

It was their fault.

It was his father's fault.

"Who was he? The werewolf? Do you know?"

Fawley had an arm across her belly now, where Remus had pushed. "His name is Fenrir Greyback. He attacked two Muggle children, along with a pack, and all of them were brought in. The others were known to be werewolves, he wasn't. The Ministry thought he was a Muggle tramp. Your father knew he was a werewolf, could tell. There was an argument, Ant told me about it."

"Soulless," Remus croaked.

Fawley nodded. "Your father lost his temper and told everyone including Greyback that werewolves were soulless evil beings that deserved nothing but death."

Each word was like a new knife in his heart; he wanted to call her a liar, say his father would never have said such horrible, disgusting things…

But part of him knew it was true.

Could hear those words coming out of his father's mouth.

Greyback.

"He escaped, and came for you."

The window opening, the vampire. Vampire—meaning someone who had a human mind that a werewolf wouldn't attack because they weren't truly humans. Someone to bring Remus out to him, and to tell Lyall exactly what needed to be said so he would know for sure.

Enjoy your soulless son now.

Remus threw up, all over the floor. He managed to fall to his knees before the bile came up at least. Then he began sobbing again, falling forward into the sick. He didn't care. All he could hear was his father saying those things. Locking in Remus's fate.

He was punished for what his father did.

Greyback wanted revenge and went for Remus instead of Lyall, condemning Remus to live as a werewolf. Condemning Lyall to have to see his son, his child, his blood and flesh become what he hated most.

Fawley was holding him again, and he curled up against her chest, making a long, drawn-out keening sort of sound. She didn't tell him to stop or calm down or that it was okay; she only held him and rocked him, occasionally rubbing her cheek against his head.

The memory swirled violently through his head, the parts clearest were the evidence against his father.

Bits and pieces of other memories began cropping up. All the times Lyall allowed Remus to think it was his fault. Blaming Remus's condition for their lack of finances, essentially blaming Remus. Him apologizing, always apologizing, always feeling guilty for whatever he had done that night to wind up in the jaws of a werewolf.

But no. He had been attacked on purpose, bitten on purpose… not with the intent to kill but the intent to infect. Revenge against his father's hatred.

If Lyall had kept his temper to himself that one day… if he hadn't announced that werewolves should all die… then Remus wouldn't be one. He'd have had a normal childhood. He'd have gone to Hogwarts without this horrific burden pushing him down. His parents would have encouraged him to make friends—he could have visited them during the holidays. He wouldn't have had to hide in fear, to keep himself folded in on himself, to—to—

The rage had returned. This time he pulled free from Fawley before he struck his fists against the floor, putting all his strength into the punches.

The stone floor cracked.

"Their fault—his fault—his fault!" he gasped, falling backward and pressing his palms against his eyes.

If he hadn't pressed Miss Fawley he never would have known, he would have continued blaming himself for the rest of his life.

And his mother didn't care either. While she told him countless times it wasn't his fault, she never told him the truth. She withheld that important nugget of information from him. Insisted she never wanted to talk about it—couldn't talk about it.

His mother certainly hadn't done as much as his father had, wasn't as guilty… but was still in on it nonetheless, and this knowledge shattered all possible trust.

The love and reverence he had for his parents was boiling into fury and hurt.

He let out a choking sort of gasp as he tried to get more oxygen in, and then sat up, pressing his hands against the cracked floor now. One sharp piece of stone cut into his palm and he barely felt the pain. He merely looked down as blood seeped out between his fingers.

"I need to be alone right now," he said without saying it. His body said it. His soul was vibrating out of his physical form, tearing away, leaving the shell.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Miss Fawley said, standing up, one arm still across her midriff where he had hurt her. Had he caused more than bruises? Had he caused any internal injuries?

"Can't." He got up as well, his vision turning black around the edges. The wolf was as mad as he was… but it wasn't trying to take over, not quite. This wrath was all his. Nearly ten years of lies and betrayal.

I'm sorry, he'd say.

It's all right, his mother would promise.

It wasn't my fault, he thought, wanting to go back in time to those moments, to speak those words. I shouldn't apologize, it wasn't my fault. I was a victim of someone my father angered. I was a VICTIM!

"Remus—"

"Can't," he said again, staggering backward. "I need to be alone. I'm sorry—I need—I can't."

He turned and fled the room, remembering when he ran from what happened with Lily. Remembering when he ran from what happened with Dedenne at the end of his first year.

He couldn't outrun what happened or what was going on inside him but it still felt good to stretch his legs out as far as they would go, to feel his feet pounding against the stone, to get his heart pumping as he became breathless and tired. Up steps. Down steps. Falling several times. Scrapes and bruises that faded. Blood that smeared all over him.

Not my fault, not my fault, they lied, they lied!

He burst outside without realizing that's where he was going, the icy cold November night air rippling across his body. Without stopping he ran across the grounds. It was nearly seven and very cold and dark out, so nobody was outside except for the Hufflepuffs at the Quidditch pitch, which was in the opposite direction of where he was going.

He ran as fast as he could, ducking under one of the willow's sweeping branches as he shot a spell that hit the knot. The tree froze, revealing the passage. He ran down it, not even bothering to light up his wand.

He didn't go all the way. About halfway down the passage he ran out of breath and finally collapsed down, knees banging against the dirt floor. He curled into a little ball, covering his head as he began sobbing and screaming again.

-X-

"—what you were thinking, out of all my students you are the last I'd suspect of doing such a thing. Do you have any idea how late it is?" A pause. Then, "Are you sure I don't need to take you to Poppy?"

Remus walked next to Professor McGonagall, head down. "No, Professor," he managed to say.

It was nearly midnight and he hadn't cared about staying hidden as he returned to the school. Filch caught him, taking him to McGonagall who removed twenty-five points off of Gryffindor which was less than the usual caught-out-after-hours punishment. He knew his bloodied, dirtied, sick-covered clothes were part of why she didn't take fifty off, but he refused to answer about where he had been or why he was out of bed.

"Is it something your friends put you up to?" she asked as they neared the Fat Lady. "None of them reported your absence."

"No, Professor."

They went into the Gryffindor common room where someone near the fireplace jumped up. "Did you fiiiii...hii….hiiii Professor!" Peter squeaked, face blossoming red as he tightened his dressing gown. "R-Remus!" He ran over, about to fling his arms around him when he noticed the state he was in. "Merlin, what happened?"

"Am I to understand that Misters Potter and Black are out searching for Mr. Lupin?" McGonagall asked tightly.

Peter reddened more. "Um. Welll. Erm. I… well, the—the thing is—you see, I—"

The portrait swung open again and James and Sirius came in. "We couldn't find him, maybe we should go to—MCGONAGALL!" Both boys froze when they saw her.

"Yes, you should have gone to me hours ago," McGonagall snapped, adjusting her glasses. "And under normal circumstances, I would remove a hundred more points from the house however… this time I shall let it go other than a night of detention for both of you." She put a hand against Remus's shoulder. "If you need me, you know where to find me, and I would like to speak to you tomorrow night."

She left the tower, casting a worried glance over her shoulder at Remus one last time before the portrait shut. Immediately the others crowded around him, demanding to know what was going on, why he had disappeared, and why there was blood and sick all over him.

"The last time this happened was because of Dedenne," Sirius said, holding onto Remus's shoulder. "But surely Miss Fawley didn't say anything…?"

He slowly shook his head, looking down at his blood-stained hands. "No," he managed to get out. "No."

"What happened?" Pete asked.

"When you didn't show up at seven we went to check and Miss Fawley was crying," James said.

"All she told us was it was your business, and that you ran off," Sirius finished.

Remus stepped back, trying to get free from Sirius, feeling claustrophobic from his friends being so close to him. Not claustrophobic—not quite, because he wanted to go under his bed, or somewhere smaller. Somewhere confined and tight where he could squeeze in and be secluded. And if he was feeling claustrophobic he wouldn't want that, right?

"It was a bad memory," he said, stepping again and then reaching up to push Sirius's hands off him, ignoring the hurt in his friend's eyes. "I—I couldn't… deal with it very well. I needed some… I needed to be away from her, away from… from everyone. For a while. I—I'm okay now."

He wasn't, but he had to be.

"Remus," Sirius said calmly, "you're not okay. Your eyes look a little blank."

He turned his head, angling it a little so his hair fell across his face. "I'll be fine," he amended. "I—I think I should get a shower. It's late, we should go to bed anyway."

"You're scaring me," Peter said flatly.

James gently took Remus's hand, ignoring the blood. "You're scaring us all. Maybe you should see Pomfrey?"

Remus snatched his hand away, feeling the pressure of anger again. "I'm sorry I'm scaring all of you, but I guess that's just my nature, isn't it?" He glared through his fringe, knowing he was making things worse but unable to stop. "I'm a monster after all, that's what we do. Scare people."

"Remus." Sirius tried to put a hand on his shoulder but he shoved it away, stepping back again, trying to get a grip on himself. If he kept this up he didn't know where things would end.

But God he wanted to be alone, couldn't bear to be around anyone. Not even them. Especially them, as furious as he was.

He was scared he might end up hurting them. Physically.

"I just need a shower."

He didn't wait to hear anything else from them, he simply turned and went up the stairs to the dorm to get things for a shower, trying his best to be quiet so he wouldn't wake David or Spinnet. The Marauders didn't follow him. They were still in the common room when he went to the showers, probably talking about him.

Worried about him.

He closed a shower stall curtain with a snap and stripped his rank clothes off, letting them drop to the floor. Naked, he stepped through the second curtain and into the spray of hot water. Immediately he sank to the floor, crying again.

He was curled up, arms crossed, fingers digging into his biceps. His left arm ached when his fingers pressed into his scar and he thought again of the werewolf biting him, licking him. Purposely. Revenge. Soulless. Execution.

Dad wanted to heal me, didn't he? he had asked his mother. Of course he did, was her reply.

He thought of his father screaming that he had been bitten, that Hope didn't understand. That Remus was going to become 'one of them'.

One of the soulless, evil beings that deserved death, as he had declared only a few weeks prior to the event.

Lyall Lupin had called werewolves that and then huddled on his floor not long after as the disease flowed through his son's body, consuming him, changing him. Making him one of them.

It, his father had said. Had he ever called Remus 'it'? What about those first months? Had Lyall's mind changed immediately or had it taken time? Did he really want Hope to heal Remus? If he had had his senses, would he have physically stopped Hope? Let Remus die rather than become one of them?

Allow his four-year-old child to bleed to death and lose him forever over becoming the soulless, evil being?

What had Lyall wanted, at that moment?

Remus began digging at his scar with his stubby nails, ignoring the pain or trying to. He clawed at his arm, grunting and then hissing out as it began bleeding. He kept scratching and scratching, tearing his skin up even though he knew it would simply heal back into the scar.

It always did.

Bloody water swirled down the drain until Remus gave up, collapsing with exhaustion. He lay with his head against the stone, watching as the water became more and more clear as his arm healed until there wasn't a trace of blood to be seen.

Then his gaze shifted as the door to the bathroom opened and he could see from under the curtain—under that half an inch, maybe an inch of space—slippered feet coming towards his stall. He knew who they belonged to. They were black cashmere slippers, and even if Sirius had been wearing James's slippers Remus would have known from the way he took his steps.

"Remus?" Sirius stopped outside the outer curtain. "Erm, I—I didn't want to bother you but it's been… it's been a while. I wanted to make sure you were… all right."

How long had he been laying there? "What time is it?"

"Just after one."

An hour, then. Or so. "I'm all right," he said, lifting his head so he couldn't see the slippers anymore. He pushed himself into a corner and wrapped his arms around his knees.

"You saw it, didn't you?"

"Saw what?"

Silence. A shifting sort of sound, and then a pained whimper. "The night you wanted to see. You told me about it a couple of weeks ago. Before Halloween."

Remus bit his bottom lip, remembering Sirius coming into his bed and wanting to know why Remus was avoiding him. Remus had told him everything but the absolute truth: that he was… like that… but he had told him what he and Fawley were doing.

"Yes."

A sigh. "Oh, Merlin. Remy. I—I'm… I'm sorry. Are you… are you okay?"

Remus rested his cheek against his arms, wanting to lie. And then…

Why?

What was the point in lying?

Sirius knew damn well he wasn't okay, all of the Marauders knew this.

He was just blatantly lying to their faces—three of the four people remaining in this world that he could trust—no, five. Not only Lily, but Miss Fawley as well.

Why continue faking, pretending, forcing himself to seem like something he wasn't, that they knew he wasn't? Why put his body and mind through this balancing act that would continue to drain him, drain him until he broke again?

"No." He began crying. "No. I'm not okay. I'm not okay, Sirius, I—I—I—" He could feel Sirius's want to push the curtains aside and come in. "No, please, I—I'm naked—"

"I'm not coming in," Sirius replied tensely. "I wouldn't do that to you. Merlin. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Remus rubbed his face against his arms and then stood up, turning the shower off. He shook some of the water off and then reached through for his towel, lightly rubbing it over his body and hair before grabbing his old, tattered bathrobe. He pulled pants on too, because even though the robe covered his body he felt uncomfortable stepping out without pants on.

Then he left the shower stall and was immediately enveloped into Sirius's arms. His face was against Sirius's chest and he breathed in his scent, closing his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sirius asked after they pulled apart.

Remus looked up, shocked to see Sirius's grey eyes were a little shiny like he had shed a tear or two. "No," he said, resisting the urge to reach up and touch Sirius's cheek. "But I do want to tell James and Peter. I don't want them to…" He trailed off, not finishing the sentence but not needing to.

And he did.

Sirius went to get James and Peter, and the four sat on the bathroom floor while Remus quietly told them what he and Fawley had been trying to do, and that they succeeded. He didn't tell them that his parents had lied to him, he didn't tell them why the werewolf attacked him. He left out many details he didn't want them to know but he did tell them that seeing himself being bitten again had hurt so much he couldn't fit in his head anymore.

He knew that was a crazy thing to say but they all nodded like they understood.

He also told them he wasn't okay. He really, really wasn't okay.

Then they hugged him, one by one, until all three of them were wrapped around him, and he cried again. He wasn't sure whose pajamas he was crying into, or whose arm he dripped snot onto, but none of them cared.

They just held him tightly among the three of them, protecting him from the outside world, Peter crying for him, James nuzzling him, Sirius's fingers tight on his back like he wanted to go and punch the werewolf that did this, and in that moment Remus felt himself lifting up, realizing that this was more than Marauders, more than friends, more than a pack, really.

This was his family.

They found out he was a 'monster' and were trying their best to help. They found out he was hurt and they didn't need to know the details, they just held him anyway.

No questions asked.

He closed his eyes, pressing harder into one of them, never wanting to let go.