Year of the Wolf

1. Bones, Bikes and Quidditch

Remus woke in the hospital wing with the usual dull ache in his bones, accompanied this time by a searing pain that tore through his hip and the unwelcome thought of not again.

'Oh, thank goodness you're awake,' Madam Pomfrey gasped when she saw him. She pushed him gently back when he tried to rise, fussing over him as she had not done in quite some time.

'How did I get here?' he asked deliriously. The pain brought a blur to the edge of his vision and there were very few coherent memories to pluck information from. There was a tightness to the skin around his right leg that he recognised as the now-familiar ache of healing tissue. It felt deep this time, perhaps down to the muscle.

'You were unconscious when I came to get you,' said Madam Pomfrey. 'Don't worry, don't worry, I got you back up here before anyone was out of bed, you weren't seen. Seems you had a rather rough night. Shattered your hip and your leg is having a little trouble healing. Not to worry though, you'll be right as rain soon enough so long as you rest.'

Remus groaned. It was not often that he injured himself so gravely and the run-up to this month's Change had been rather easy - he had not been required to take the day prior to the full moon off, which was most unusual. It seemed that his body was now determined to make up for that oversight...he would likely be here for a few days now. In O.W.L. year too. Fantastic.

'I can't move my leg,' he said. He wasn't sure if it was the pain or if something else was wrong.

'That, my dear boy, is quite intentional,' Madam Pomfrey assured him. 'It was not a clean break - it will take some time for the bone to heal, I did what I could to immobilise it to help with both the healing and the pain, but I'm afraid it's not going to last. You should rest while you have the opportunity. These next few days are not going to be pleasant.'

She had barely left his side when the doors swung open. Within moments, the new arrivals seemed to sense that something was not quite right and broke into a run (or as much of a run as Madam Pomfrey would allow in her hospital wing) until they reached his bedside.

'What happened?' James demanded, first to reach him. 'Are you okay?'

'Rough night,' Remus said.

'You look like crap,' said Sirius with a look of shock upon his face. 'No, not like that! I mean...you don't look 'normal full moon' crap, you look...'

Remus grimaced. It was perhaps a blessing that there were no nearby mirrors.

'Can't remember much,' he said. 'You know how it is.'

But they didn't, not really. The wolf would take over both body and mind, and he would cower in the dark recesses, too afraid to sneak a peek through its eyes. How could anyone truly understand that?

'McGonagall said you'd be out of classes for a while,' said Peter. 'She's been telling everyone you were ill over the holidays, took on a bit too much and relapsed.'

'Everyone bought it,' said James.

'Well, one person didn't,' said Sirius. Remus didn't need to hazard a guess as to who that was.

The others helped him get comfortable, and forced him to down the foul potion Madam Pomfrey had left. It filled him with a strange warmth that prickled along the nerves in his immobilised leg. They had even smuggled up some toast from breakfast and promised to take notes from the day's classes.

They returned again at lunch, James delving into his bag to retrieve several mouth-watering items of dessert once ensuring that Madam Pomfrey was busy in her office. They all tucked into them with much gusto, Sirius sat on the other side of the bed by his head, James by his feet and Peter seeming quite content in the chair beside the bed. It was as though they did not sit in such a clinical place, but rather across the beds in their dormitory. Had they really gotten so used to being here?

Hours passed, and it soon became evident that their free afternoon was being wasted at his bedside. But no matter how he tried to point this out, he was shushed almost immediately. Eventually, they began threatening him with a silencing charm.

'You think we'd be okay sitting in the common room knowing you're up here all alone?' asked James.

Sirius smiled and nudged Remus gently with his shoulder. 'You're kind of doing your prefect duty of keeping us out of trouble.'

With incredulity that still had not left him after all this time, Remus listened to them verbally hoping that it was a one-off and next month would be easier for him. He cast all thought of it aside - even now, it still amazed him how much they cared about him and how little about his condition. Somehow, he noted, even as Madam Pomfrey's pain management measures began to wear off, it made it all a little easier to bear.

James and Peter found Sirius poring over a book in the common room that evening, and the former was sure to offer a snide comment about this. Sirius was much like him - naturally intelligent, barely needing to study to pass an exam with full marks. They were like sponges for information, though said information was not always of the academically useful variety.

'Muggle Studies?' Peter commented as he and James sank into the other two chairs at the table. 'I thought you weren't that serious about it?'

They all knew that the only reason Sirius had taken Muggle Studies was as yet another metaphorical middle finger to his family. James, of course, had taken the subject purely because his best friend had.

'Turns out, it's pretty fascinating,' Sirius said impatiently.

Without warning, James reached over and snatched the magazine he had been resting on the pages of his textbook. Sirius reached for it aggressively, but James held it out of his reach as he flicked through the pages.

'A motorcycle magazine?' he asked. There were pages upon pages of still images of motorcycles, editorials on different manufacturers, guides on the different parts of different motorcycles...there were even posters of the things, and... James laughed, eyes widening in interest at an unusually stationary pull-out picture of a half-naked woman straddling a large bike. 'Now this is my kind of literature.'

A disapproving tut from behind him caught James's attention and he turned quickly, dropping the magazine as Lily Evans shook her head and guided her friends away from the apparently offensive material.

'Fan-bloody-tastic,' James muttered, cheeks burning.

'Serves you right!' Sirius laughed.

'What are you doing with that anyway?' James asked. Though his words were directed at Sirius, his eyes followed the departing Evans until she disappeared up the steps to her dormitory. Merlin, if she didn't get prettier every year.

Peter craned his neck to see what the fuss was about as Sirius pulled the magazine back over to his side of the table, and James caught a glimpse of the pages of the book that had been hidden beneath the magazine. It was a motorcycle maintenance manual.

Sirius had shown an interest in motorbikes in particular as soon as they had covered muggle transportation in their classes. By the Christmas holidays of the previous year he had found a way to get muggle magazines delivered by owl mail (James suspected his muggle-born cousin by marriage) and had developed a full-fledged obsession with motorbikes by springtime. He had even been caught chatting to their muggle studies professor about engines between classes one day.

James, he didn't see how anything could compare to a broom, to the feel of the wind rushing through your hair and the world passing you by. Sirius had once argued that the feeling of a motorbike would probably be the same. James argued back that a motorbike couldn't fly, then Sirius had said we're wizards, we can make anything fly so James suggested if he bought a motorbike and made it fly then perhaps he should give James his Nimbus 1001. Sirius had then recommended that James do something rather obscene and the topic had never been raised since.

'I, uh...decided I'm going to get one,' Sirius said.

James laughed, unable to contain the hilarity.

'You serious?'

'Why not?' Sirius scowled at him, though a smirk played on his lips. 'I can get a muggle motorcycle license when I'm seventeen. Should be a piece of cake.'

'You can apparate when you're seventeen,' Peter pointed out.

Sirius let out a frustrated sigh and held up the magazine. 'Tell me that apparition looks this good.'

'Give it up, Peter,' said James, laughing. 'He loves the things.'

'Thank you, James.'

Sirius folded the magazine and put it back into his bag along with the book, evidently realising that quiet reading time was over.

'So,' he said, lowering his voice. 'Are we going to try again tonight?'

The colour drained from Peter's face and he suddenly busied himself with studying the large tapestry on the wall above them.

'Can't tonight,' James said in a whisper. He glanced at Peter, shaking his head when he suddenly rejoined the conversation. 'Quidditch try-outs tomorrow, Reed wants the whole team there.'

He met eyes with Sirius, hoping to convey a silent suggestion.

'Bit late, isn't it?'

James shrugged.

'Reed's been busy - N.E.W.T.s. Couldn't get the whole team together before now.'

'Are you trying out for commentator again?' Peter asked.

Sirius shook his head with a grin that verged on malicious. 'You kidding? McGonagall won't have me back after last year.'

James could not suppress a laugh at the memories.

'Beautiful save by Young! The girl has such speed, and just look at how those Quidditch robes emphasise her curves-'

'-second year for their new seeker, Regulus Black. Incidentally, little Regulus used to wet the bed until he was six. His mother had to cast all sorts of charms to save her sheets.'

'Green passes the quaffle to Potter who SCORES! Gryffindor now stand at eighty points to ten and Mr. Potter is very much single, ladies, though I doubt for much longer after today's match!'

'They did not appreciate your subtle humour,' James said, his eyes alight. 'But that's all good, I want you to try for the team this year.'

Sirius scoffed. 'Yeah, I'm built like a seeker, me.'

Sirius stood at least a few inches above most of the other boys in their year, and his physique had a natural hint of lean muscle to it that no amount of pigging out at lunch seemed to affect. Perhaps it was the so-called aristocratic nature of his genes that ensured such a well-refined overall appearance.

'We're not looking for a seeker,' James said. 'A chaser, beater and keeper. I think you'd make a good beater.'

'He's tall enough to make a good keeper too,' Peter agreed.

Sirius seemed to ignore the latter opinion, kept his eyes fixed on James.

'Come on,' James pleaded. He wanted Sirius to fall to his side of this idea. If he joined the team, it would mean more time together - no more cancelled plans when a training session sprung out of the blue. Besides, it may help keep his mind off whatever was happing at home that had made him so prone to moments of glumness these past few weeks. 'At least try out. You don't have to accept it if you're offered the position and who knows? You might even have fun.'

Try-outs brought weather that promised fun, but not much else. A small crowd had turned out, mostly second and third-years, with a few first-years who had to be marched off the pitch. Sirius was one of the oldest there and from the look on his face he appeared to have noticed this.

'Just relax,' James told him as he led him towards the other candidates. 'Reed's a fair captain.'

Patrick Reed was a tall seventh-year Gryffindor with a look of general authority about him. He was a hell of a player, and took the game very seriously. This too, seemed to have crossed Sirius's mind, as he cast James an uneasy glance as he joined the small crowd. James gave an encouraging thumbs-up as he found the rest of the existing team and sat down to observe the upcoming trials.

'You dragged him here, didn't you?' said Mary Macdonald, suppressing laughter at the several inches at which Sirius stood above most of the other hopefuls.

'We've played together in the holidays,' James said, smirking. 'He may not look it, but he's got good upper body strength. Great balance too, never been able to knock him off his broom and believe me, I've tried.'

'I bet you have,' Mary said with a quiet laugh as Reed sorted the others into groups. 'At least we don't have to try out again.'

As it was Reed's second year as captain, he had said that he saw no reason why the remaining team needed to try out - they had proven themselves over the past year and James had consistently scored more goals per game than any other player in the school.

The three existing team members exchanged casual evaluations of the hopefuls, ranging from the kind ('Well, she may have fallen off her broom, but she still got the ball through the ring') to the disbelieving ('He has actually gotten on the broom the wrong way'). The decision for chaser did not seem to be a very difficult one: a slight third year girl zoomed effortlessly around the others, drawing large cheers from the crowd below.

There was a definite mixture of abilities where flying was concerned. Aside from the backwards-facing rider, one girl seemed completely out of control of her broom and another boy seemed petrified that he would fall off. It was all James could do to hold back laughter as Sirius outstripped them all effortlessly, yawning and looking rather bored indeed as he lounged almost carelessly atop his broom.

It turned out that James's assumptions about his friend's prowess as a beater were on the mark. He succeeded in knocking two fourth years and Reed himself off their brooms, and on his last swing managed to hit the Bludger through the smallest space between two players. Reed stared after it in awe before glancing back to Sirius and telling the other Beater hopefuls to pack up their brooms and go.

When Sirius touched down, James ran to meet him with roaring enthusiasm as cheers from the stands rang out above.

'Knew you could do it!'

'Piece of cake,' Sirius said, though he appeared to have just now started to breathe again.

Peter waved his fists from up in the stands and both boys waved back.

It did not take long for the new Keeper to be chosen, and Reed called the new Gryffindor team over for somewhat of a debriefing.

'I think we've got a good season ahead of us,' he said. 'Not to be rude Black, but you don't have the classic Beater build so for the first match at least, I think we'll have the element of surprise on our side.' Sirius grinned at this as he met James's eye. Reed might as well have called him their 'secret weapon'. 'Keep an eye on the notice board - I'll let you all know when first practise will be.'

Peter was waiting on the ground when they parted ways with the rest of the team, James slapping Sirius on the back for what must have been the hundredth time.

'You were...incredible,' Peter gushed, looking up at Sirius with a rather starstruck expression. For a brief moment, James felt the tiniest pang of jealousy.

'Eh,' said Sirius in a failed attempt to be modest. He was loving it, really. 'You should try out next year!'

Peter flushed a light shade of red. 'Don't think I'm right for Quidditch. I'm better in the stands.'

'Don't sell yourself short,' James told him encouragingly. 'Half of talent is trying.'

'And the other half is never giving up,' added Sirius.

The weather was still nice, and the sudden thought of Remus stuck in the hospital wing dampened James's spirits a little.

'Reckon the house elves would make us some ice cream?' he asked the others in a low voice. 'For Remus, I mean. He was in a lot of pain this morning and...well, ice cream can make anyone feel better.'

Smiles and nods answered the suggestion.

'I think he'd like that,' said Peter. 'I'd like that.'

The spectators had almost completely cleared away as they made their way off the pitch to rid themselves of their brooms.

'Sirius!'

They all turned at the shouted name, a trail of empathetic resentment burning through James at the sound of the familiar voice, and Sirius froze as a young black-haired boy walked briskly towards him.

'Congratulations!' Regulus said, going so far as to reach out to clap his brother on the shoulder. It was a fairly humorous act given that Sirius was much taller than him and wore a rather unimpressed, slightly frightening, expression. 'You should have told me you were trying out, I just found out at breakfast.'

Sirius was staring at his little brother as though he had sprouted an extra ear.

'Didn't think you'd care.'

James reached out to tug on Peter's arm and excuse themselves from the moment, but Sirius held out an arm to stop him.

'You fly really well,' Regulus said, seeming to choose to ignore the comment. He looked up at his older brother with an almost deliberate sense of desperation. 'Guess it runs in the family, huh?'

It was a joke, but Sirius didn't seem to take it that way. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and for a few long seconds James was afraid that he may draw his wand. Instead, Sirius shook his head and began to move again.

'Oh come on!' Regulus shouted after him, bringing him to a sudden stop again. 'Sirius, I really am happy for you!'

Sirius turned around and walked over to his brother, his face expressionless. But he seemed to have no words, and he scrutinised every inch of Regulus's face, as though looking for the joke, trying to figure out if he was taking the piss or if he had genuinely come to congratulate him.

'I know you were there when I tried out,' Regulus said quietly. 'We may not be friends, but we're brothers and that means we can still be proud of each other. Or does it not?'

Something softened on Sirius's face. For a moment, James wondered if he was the tiniest bit ashamed of himself.

'Thank you,' Sirius said with a genuine smile. 'Guess I'll see you on the pitch, huh?'

Without another word, he reached out to ruffle his brother's hair before walking away, still smiling. James looked to Peter, who seemed to have an equally dumbfounded expression on his face as they followed.

Not another word was spoken on their way to the kitchens, but James could have sworn that the ghost of Sirius's smile lingered long after the younger Black sibling was out of sight.

AN - Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you think/if I should continue/the usual :).