It's Friday, on the brink of sunset. My nerves certainly haven't been kind to me. The moon will rise in less than an hour and for the first time, I'll only have one Marauder by my side. Granted, said Marauder has always been more than enough for me, but given the situation, I can't count on the argument too much.

Since Sirius caught up with me at the library last Tuesday, our attempts at pretending like we don't remember what happened the previous night have grown more desperate. We flinch and change the topic whenever we hear the words "firewhiskey" or "snog" and it becomes some sort of an unspoken agreement that if we ever find ourselves alone late at night, any excuse to leave is acceptable.

I thought when Sirius apologized for not planning to accompany me for the full moon tonight, things would at least be marginally better. Sadly, that isn't the case at all.

Sure, now we can hang out in the same room, but only as long as the space is big enough for there to be a good amount of platonic distance and has a lot of things to fake focus on as we avoid eye contact. Small talk becomes the new general theme of our friendship (if you can still call it that, that is). We do our best to turn a blind eye to it, but the tension between us is louder than is our need to forget that night.

However, despite the uneasiness of it all, I find myself smiling as I hear footsteps from outside my room in the Shrieking Shack. Footsteps that sound too light to belong to a human.

I stand up from the shabby bed and head to the door. The moment I open it, a big black dog bolts into the room, running in circles. He leaps onto the bed with playful grace and looks up at me, wagging his tail nimbly.

Walking up to the shaggy canine, I chuckle and prop up one knee on the bed as I face him. "Excited, Sirius? You're about ten minutes early."

The dog gives me an irritated look before switching forms.

Before I know it, Sirius – very human now – is on the bed, sitting back on his heels. "More nervous, actually."

My face turns grim and I place a hand on his shoulder. And it's strange, because this is the most physical contact we've allowed ourselves in a while. "Ten minutes, Sirius. You still have time to –"

"Change my mind? You wish, Lupin," he interrupts, rolling his mesmerizing eyes. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

I sigh, taking my hand off him. "Okay then."

"Moony, I will be okay," he asserts, searching my eyes for any belief in his reassurance.

I feel my heart grow warm, and not just because of his words of comfort. But because it's been a while since I've heard that nickname escape his lips.

"I'm scared for you," I mutter, looking down.

Sirius smiles weakly. "I'm a big boy, I can handle myself. We'll run around the Shack and have a fantastic - and very safe - time. I promise."

"Right," is all I manage to say as I look out the window. The sky is a confluence of orange and violets, blending darker as each second ticks away. The sun is sinking into the hills that soak up its light, shades ofblue blotting the pinkish tint of the aging horizon. It would be beautiful if I didn't know what comes after the color palette sky.

"It'll be okay," Sirius repeats, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I look at him gratefully, scared, but grateful nonetheless. "You're right."

He smiles and says, "I'll be in the other room while you get ready, yeah?"

I nod and watch him leave.

As the view outside darkens, I hastily undress and fold my clothes neatly. I shiver in the hands of the cold.

I stow my clothes and my wand under the mattress and I grab the thick blanket, wrapping it around myself. I sit on the floor in dread until I feel it. The pull of the moon.

I double over, curling into myself. Pain shoots through from my stomach and I feel like venom is being injected into my veins repeatedly. From underneath my now heaving chest, my rib cage crashes against my skin. My head swirls, heavy excruciating pounding resonating through my ears. My spine starts to feel numb, holding me in place and making me sprawl over the wooden floor. Then, it snaps.

I scream, digging my nails into my skull as I arch up. But as my bony fingers turn into claws, I draw blood. A growl escapes.

Tears start rimming my eyes as I feel every bone in my body. My shoulder blades expanding and tearing apart every vein I have to speak of. My limbs lengthen, cracking in a hundred different ways in the process. Fur starts to jut out of my skin and I choke out blood on the floor, rasping for air.

I feel my eyes blurring over. Where am I?

I bang my head on the floor, scratching at my aching sides. I can smell a million different things at once, but the scent of blood spikes the air.

I can feel my vision blacken and my brain shutting down.

My last logical thought takes note of a black dog bursting through the door and pinning me down.

Groggily, I open my eyes and find myself laid atop of a blanket sprawled on the floor. Wincing at the cold surface below me, I extend my hand to push myself up before yelping in agony.

As my eyes readjust to the dimness of the room, I see Sirius hurrying to kneel over me. "Shhh, Remus. It's okay, it's okay. I'm here."

I look up at him and see the worry in his eyes as he layers a thick quilt over my bare body. I breathe a sigh of relief as warmth engulfs me.

"Let me just patch you up a bit before I transfer you to the bed, okay?" he whispers, as if even the volume of his voice could crush me. He lifts my arm over the cover and a jolt of pain shoots through me at his action.

"Let me, Moony. It's okay" he whispers calmly.

I take a better look at my arm and see scratches all over, dominated by a deep, pulsing, red cut that runs from my collarbone down to my wrist. With panic, I cast a glance at Sirius and calm down as I see that he just has a few minor bruises on his arms and a small cut on his face.

As if reading my thoughts, he shakes his head. "Unbelievable, you see that you've almost ripped your arm apart, and you still seem more worried about me."

I grin guiltily.

"Oh well." He waves his wand over me. "Episkey." I see all the tiny cuts and scratches on me vanish, but the deep gash remains.

Then he taps his wand at the frayed blanket I'm lying on. I give a start as I feel a mattress grow from under me, relieving my back of the discomfort.

"Why you need my help in Transfiguration confuses me," I mutter.

"Essays aren't my thing," he answers simply. "I'm good at it, but written tasks and memorizing definitions are the death of me. And luckily, the same's true for Potions," he says as he conjures up his potion making kit. He settles it next to him and opens it, revealing a variety of vials, bottles and pots holding different herbs and liquids.

I glare at them.

He frowns at me in return. "Don't give me that look. I know they feel painful or taste nasty, but you're in a horrible state. Besides, I compromised the blood replenishing potion so that it won't taste as bad. Here, I think we should start with the Murtlap Essence; the Dittany can work off it," he says, holding up a vial of yellow liquid. "Drink up," he orders as he motions me to open my mouth.

I raise my eyebrows at him.

"I read in one of the books I had that drinking the Essence will be more effective in a shorter amount of time rather than when you just apply it to the wound," he explains, "so just down it, Remus, no arguments." He reaches under my head, lifts it up and pours the liquid between my lips.

I shut my eyes, trying not to spit out the bitter potion. By the time I have managed to swallow it all up, Sirius is already reaching over for another vial as he lays my head back down. Essence of Dittany.

He unscrews the cork and I brace myself. He tilts it over my arm, tapping it so that the substance leaves drops along the formidable gash. I fixate on his silver, concentrating eyes, which are enough to distract me from the potion's sting on my wound.

As the cut slowly heals, Sirius takes an empty bottle and dips into one of the clay pots that contains what seems to be a girding potion. At least this one won't hurt any of my wounds or taste buds.

"Open your mouth," he murmurs. I oblige and feel the potion course down my throat.

Before I can close my lips, however, another slush of foul liquid fills my mouth. Blood Replenishing Potion.

Choking, I clench my fists. Sirius presses his hand against my lips to keep me from sputtering the thick liquid out, which I almost do. I gulp it all down with difficulty. Sirius did manage to make it more bearable, but it still tasted beyond terrible.

I manage to talk in between of coughs. "Thanks... f-for the... fucking... warning."

Sirius shrugs apologetically, obviously suppressing a laugh. "Had to, mate. I know you hate the stuff. You'd be due for another tantrum if I didn't do that fast enough."

Rolling my eyes, I am just about to flip him off, but as I raise my hand, I notice the lack of ache and the absence of the gash on my arm. Nothing but a hairline cut is left to mark where the injury was. The end product of all his concoctions. When I look at him, he already has a smug look on his face. "And I made all the potions by myself."

"Care to tell me why you needed a make-up practical and a tutoring session last week?" I ask, as I prop myself up on my elbows, feeling more and more of the potions' effects.

He stops to think for a while, then finally answers. "Because definitions and laws are crap. As for the practical, I had to redo my Draught of Living Death because Wormtail accidentally spilled Doxy eggs into my cauldron. I needed your notes because I did not want to screw it up again. Other than that, I'm a bloody natural, aren't I?"

I want to say, 'I was hoping it was because you wanted to spend time with me' or 'Why is talking to you so easy right now?' But I don't. Instead I mutter, "I'm impressed." Which is true as well. He could certainly give Evans and Snape a run for their money.

"Thanks," Sirius grins as he runs his wand over my body, muttering, "Tergeo". The spells cleans off the grime and dried blood on my body.

"I think you should stop," I say, suddenly remembering something. He obeys, looking anxious.

"What's wrong? Shit, did I hurt you?"

"No, no," I mutter, waving off his concerns. "You're doing too good of a job. Pomfrey will be suspicious at me being all unscathed."

"Oh," he says, relief evident in his expression.

I sit up and the quilt falls to my hips. Looking down at my torso, I need nothing but a few minor bruises.

"You're good at this."

"Told you I can handle myself," he replies in a singsong voice.

"Yeah, yeah," I say, smiling wide. It's been days since we have been at complete ease with each other, and I feel happy. I feel happy, but also scared. Scared because I know this is temporary. This will fade. Everything will fall back into strain as soon as we leave the Shrieking Shack. I know it.

I disregard these thoughts for a while, indulging in the way the rising sun's rays filter through the fogged up window, its light making the silver in Sirius's eyes glitter.

"You know," I start, trying to tear my stare off him, "I feel well enough to go see the match."

"You sure?" he asks doubtfully, as he puts away his kit after retrieving a bottle.

"Yeah, I'm just..." I trail off, eyeing the substance in his hand. "What's that?"

He hands me the bottle. I look down at the yellow-tinted drink and peer at him questioningly.

"Honeywater. And I added crushed Monkshood in there." He motions for me to drink it.

I take a sip and saccharine warmth, with a herbal hint, engulfs my sense of taste. I practically feel it flow down my throat and surge through my veins. Working with the girding potion, the drink takes away any internal strain and fatigue. I blink rapidly, trying to get used to the sudden steadiness within me. I drink the remaining contents eagerly and set it down, looking at Sirius.

"Where'd you learn that?"

Sirius shrugs. "I'm a natural, remember?"

"And modest too."

"Yup."

I laugh, getting lost in his smile. His thin lips look smooth and beautiful, pulled into an alluring grin. I try to push away the memory of how they felt on me, to no avail. Even if I manage to make my head forget, the way my throat dries up when he looks at me reminds me anyway.

Sirius pulls me out of my trance. "I put your clothes in the drawers with your wand. Will you be okay getting dressed by yourself?"

I nod, thanking the heavens for the quick effects of Sirius's potion making. This morning has brought about a temporal normalcy to our relationship that would be ruined if I was too weak to get dressed on my own. Something tells me that Sirius being in contact with a very nude me would create a very awkward atmosphere.

"If you say so," he says nonchalantly, but I don't miss the look of relief on his face. I'm pretty sure he was thinking the same thing.

He stands up and looks down at me. "I'll be in the other room. Call me when you're done, okay?"

"Okay," I reply, beaming up at him.

He makes his way across the room before stopping abruptly, turning around. "I almost forgot –"

"How many potions do I need?" I groan. "Whatever it is, it can wait until –"

I break off, seeing that he's holding up a bar of chocolate he took out of his pocket.

He tilts his head. "You were saying?" he teases, as he tosses it at me.

"That's more like it," I say as I catch it.

Sirius rolls his eyes, chuckling, as he leaves the room.