Remus swallowed. My mother is sick, he told himself, my mother is sick…

"My mother's sick."

"What?" asked James, wiping off a pumpkin juice moustache with his sleeve.

"My mum's sick," repeated Remus, forcing a false confidence into his voice and gesturing to the letter in his hands, "my dad says he's asked Dumbledore if I can go home to see her, he said yes apparently, so I'm going today."

"Is she alright?" asked Peter.

"Um… I don't know," said Remus.

Of course, it was starting, the inevitable onslaught of questions. He folded the letter and put it away in his pocket before any of them could ask to see it. Of course, it said nothing about his mother being ill, on the contrary, it had been written, for the most part, by his mother, encouraging and comforting him because he was ill.

Remus felt a hard smack on his shoulder, he whipped round, hand on wand, ready to fight or run, whichever looked like his best bet.

"I'm sure she'll be okay," said James, and Remus realised that his smack had been nothing more than an affectionate pat on the back.

He relaxed, though he could still feel his heart thumping in his chest. He nodded.

"Hey, is she going to a muggle Healer or a proper one?" asked Sirius.

"Um… a muggle one I think," answered Remus.

"Well tell your Dad to take her to St Mungo's if she doesn't get better, I've head muggle Healers do all sorts of barbaric things to their patients. They use these really primitive instruments called needles…"

"Shut up Sirius," hissed James, for next to him Remus was looking so terrified he looked like he was about to be sick.

"What?" asked Sirius.

"I'm sure the muggle Healers will have your mum better in no time," said Peter.

Remus nodded again, standing up and lifting his bag out from under the table.

"I'll erm… see you guys in Charms… I just need to pack a bag for…"

"Sure thing," said James, "we'll make sure Flitwick doesn't mark you late."

Remus opened his mouth to say thank you but closed it again quickly. James got the message, however, and gave Remus's arm one last pat to let him know.

Remus nodded once more before turning away and hurrying out the Hall, he was cutting it a bit fine if he wanted to get to their dorm and back before Charms started.

"Poor Remus's mum," said Peter.

"Yeah," sighed James, "I'm sure she'll be fine though, there's no need to get Remus more worried than necessary."

"I didn't mean to upset him," said Sirius, "I was just trying to give him some advice. They do use needles James, like for knitting!"

"Oh and where did you hear that one Sirius, your crazy muggle-hating relatives?"

"Well… yeah… but it doesn't mean it's definitely not true, I mean, they don't have magic do they? How do they heal anyone without potions? Look I'm just worried about Remus's mother alright… I was just trying to help."

Sirius threw moodily flung the crust of his toast onto his plate.

"Come on," he said, "let's get to Charms so we can save Remus a seat… I hate crusts anyway, at home Kreacher always cuts them off for us…"

Sirius's mumbling grew quieter and quieter until he lapsed into an uncharacteristic silence. Meanwhile James was telling the both of them his plan of action for when Remus returned, which Sirius could have summarised simply as "Be Nice To Remus, Curse Those Who Aren't" but he didn't because he knew James liked to have a plan. How did James know how to always say the right words and do the right thing? Even Peter had done better than he'd done back there. Why did people have to have problems? Problems were for adults. Children shouldn't need to be worrying about how to make people feel better. That was a grown-up's job. Why was everything so unfair?!

Remus fell back against the thin wooden wall of the cubicle, banging his head but not particularly caring. In a way being sick had helped, a huge sense of relief had washed over him at least. Although how he was ever going to move from this spot only Merlin knew.

It's okay, they believed you, now all you have to do get through the next few hours without anyone noticing you're sick and everything will be alright.

Pressing one hand down on the rim of the toilet he got up, waiting a moment for the blood to flow back to his before flushing the toilet and stepping out of the cubicle of towards the sink. He rinsed his mouth and his face and then stood there for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing… Merlin he was tired. He'd slept only in patches last night. He'd been up half the night trying to make sure his story was watertight. The time he did spend sleeping was filled with bad dreams, a frequent occurrence before full moons, but a scarier one without his mum there to comfort him. Letters were all well and good but a letter couldn't hug you like only mums can. Of course, by the time he got up with the other boys he had completely forgotten all the carefully worked out details of his cover story. It had taken him all through breakfast to pluck up the courage to just give them what he had, the bare bones of his lie.

They had accepted it quicker than he'd expected actually. He'd expected the inquisition to last much longer than it had. Still, there would always be the opportunity for more questions in lessons and at lunch.

She's got a muggle illness, my dad didn't tell me what it is. She's going to a muggle doctor.

Hopefully they wouldn't be able to ask many questions about muggle illnesses, or if they did then, for now at least, they wouldn't be able to tell truth for lies.

He looked at his watch, he was five minutes late. He picked up his bag and ran.

"Lupin, Remus?"

"He'll be here in a minute Professor," said James, "don't mark him late, it's not his fault he had to… do something."

"I'll mark him late for now, if he has a valid excuse for his lateness he can see me at the end of the lesson," said Professor Flitwick, "Lyme, Florence?"

Peter and James answered their names when they were called, and eventually Flitwick finished the register but still Remus hadn't turned up. Just as the three boys were starting to wonder what was taking him so long Remus arrived, puffing and panting at the door as Flitwich was in the middle of explaining their task for the lesson.

"I'm sorry I'm… late," panted Remus.

"Sit down Mr Lupin, I shall speak to you at the end of the lesson."

"Thank you Sir," breathed Remus, sitting down in the seat Peter had been saving with his hand.

He closed his eyes for a moment and beathed deeply, before suddenly opening them again and smiling at Peter with a thoroughly unexpected cheeriness. It only took a moment for the startled Peter to remember to smile back, and then the two of them turned back to the front and watched the remaining half of Flitwick's demonstration.

At the end of the lesson Remus, urged on by James who was babbling on about telling him about his mum so that he didn't get in trouble for being late, he approached Flitwick at his desk.

"You three boys run along now," he said to James, Peter and Sirius, "I'll only keep your friend a minute, I wouldn't want to make him late to his next class."

Remus nodded for them to leave, making sure they had gone before turning back to Flitwick.

"I'm sorry I was late Professor I… I was ill."

"Yes, I surmised as much," said Professor Flitwick, "have you been to see the matron."

"No Sir."

"Are you still feeling ill?"

"No Sir."

"I suggest you go to Madam Pomfrey at lunchtime Mr Lupin, you will be excused from your afternoon lessons."

"But…"

"No 'but's, I want you to go to Madam Pomfrey at lunch. Run along to your next class now."

"Yes Sir," said Remus.

In a way it was a relief to be missing his afternoon lessons. He managed to get away pretty easily at lunchtime by saying that his Dad was coming to collect him. The others nodded sympathetically and said that they hoped his mother got well soon. Now he was lying on one of the beds in the Hospital Wing reading the letter he had stuffed in his pocket at breakfast. He drew strength from the words, but they also somehow made him feel younger, more powerless, more vulnerable. He grew increasingly aware of the silence around him, the absence of his parents fussing over him. They always fussed too much, and it annoyed him when his father took his temperature twice an hour and his mother kept trying to get him to eat, but it was nice to know that they were there. He would be going home from Christmas soon, just one more full moon to get through and then he would see his parents again, and they would have Christmas dinner and crackers and stockings and they would spend an entire day decorating the house. Apparently the vegetable patch was doing well, and his parents couldn't wait to have him back.

When Madam Pomfrey came to check on Remus she found him sleeping in an awkward position, as if he had been sitting up in bed when he had fallen asleep. He held a piece of paper with fold marks on it loosely in his fingers. She picked it up, folded it and placed it on his bedside table before gently manoeuvring him into a more comfortable position. Remus let out a little moan and his eyelids fluttered as if he were waking up, but he didn't. For now at least, he was sleeping relatively peacefully.