Remus waited until the evening to try it on, so he could undress within the safety of his four poster bed. The sports bra was a little hard to put on, but he took his time, and finally: his chest was visibly flat.

He put his shirt back on so he could check how it looked in the mirror, and he was ecstatic by the results. His chest was as flat as any other boy, completely unnoticeable. He almost wanted to cry, but willed himself not to. Someone could walk into the bathroom at any moment, and they'd definitely notice him crying, so he just gave one more look in the mirror, composed himself, and went to join the others.

To him, his chest felt noticeable, but this time in a good way. A part of him almost wanted people to point it out, wanted them to say "hey, your chest is looking particularly flat today." It was hard not being able to share his excitement with anyone, but then... they all thought his chest was flat because he was a boy. And that was a nice feeling.

Remus attempted to take Madam Pomfrey's advice. He took his binder off every night— a nickname he had already given it since he didn't like calling it a bra— and he stretched his arms after taking it off to relive his muscles. He also definitely took it off before the full moon. In the gaps between wearing it, he'd just wear a number of layers to hide his chest, walking with a slightly bent posture so his clothes didn't outline his body, and it was a hassle. His binder just made him so happy when he wore it.

Would it really be a big deal not taking it off?

He could breathe fine, it didn't feel that tight. He knew to take it off before transforming, but every other time? So what if he wore it in bed? Surely Madam Pomfrey was just being overly cautious.

On the day of the full moon, he didn't take it off at all, right up until the last minute before he snuck out of the dorm room to make his way to the Whomping Willow, despite the fact that the day's activities had been rather full on: it was Holi, according to James— a very important festival, celebrating the coming of spring. The night before, another bonfire had been planned for Holika Dahan, and James wanted more people to join in, so he invited the entire dorm, and even Snape tagged along with little grumbling from James, although somewhat from Severus who was only there because Lily had made him.

Like on Lohri, they all threw things onto the bonfire, although this time it was just wood and sticks, which James had been collecting for a few days prior, so there was a big mound for everyone to take from. James insisted that they had to dance around the bonfire, and sing if they could. Severus outright refused, but the rest of them went all out, getting stuck in, especially James and Sirius, who made as much noise as they could. In between this cacophony, James told them what the bonfire meant, signifying the burning of Holika— an evil goddess, which is why people would throw stuff on the bonfire to burn.

The late night caused them to wake up slightly later than usual, but that day was full of even more action. Holi was the festival of colours, after all, a day to basically smear packets of colour all over everyone and drench them in water.

A day which involved James Potter and Sirius Black.

No one was safe. Remus was the first to experience it. James and Sirius hadn't told anyone else about the day, as a surprise. So while Remus was rushing to class he was all of a sudden ambushed, and before he knew it, his hair was covered in purple, his face bright green. James explained what was happening, so Remus couldn't get too annoyed, especially once he joined in himself and soon their whole class was a mixture of reds and yellows and blues.

Once they were outside, during break, they widened their festivities, and half the school were walking to class looking like a rainbow had exploded all over them. It was great fun; Remus couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed non-stop for an entire day, and it didn't end with the colours.

There was water as well, and James missed no opportunity to drench everyone he came across, or rather— no one came across him: he was hiding behind corners waiting for people, Sirius on the other side, Remus and Peter keeping watch. Severus had an entire bucket of water thrown over him as he was walking into the potions classroom, early as usual, before Professor Slughorn had even arrived. What's more, James had mixed in some colours as well, so Snape's white uniform shirt was now a dripping rainbow of reds and blues. It didn't take long for Snape to figure out who the culprit was.

"It'll wash off!" defended James, and Snape couldn't do much to argue without disrupting the beginning of class, so he sat back in his seat in a huff, wringing his shirt out and refusing to look at them, although he slightly turned his head at the sound of muffled giggling coming from the direction of James and the others.

Remus's favourite part, however, was when it was just them: him, James, Sirius, Peter and the other boys from their dorm. Lily joined in as well with her friend Marlene McKinnon, and it was after lessons had ended; the sun was already beginning to set. For once, James agreed to go in the lake, despite how cold it was. They all did. In a rush of euphoria the cold meant nothing to them, and within seconds they were splashing each other, dunking each other, and the sounds of yelling and laughing were all that could be heard.

Even Remus went in, although he couldn't take his shirt off like the other boys, because he certainly couldn't reveal his binder. He knew it probably wasn't the best idea, but he tried to be as inactive as possible, letting people splash him rather than splashing people himself, not wanting to get too out of breath. He stayed near the shore just in case. He did feel sad that he couldn't join in properly, but it was still nice, watching everyone have fun, and they still included him, not noticing his lack of participation.

Eventually the binder started to really to annoy him, but if anything, it made him even more determined to keep his chest permanently flat, and maybe... maybe the longer he wore it, the more his body would get used to it. Then perhaps he'd be able to join in more, do more stuff, have more fun.

So after the full moon, he didn't take it off for five days.

On the fifth day, his friends were worried about him. He could barely move his upper body, wincing in pain as he did, and they couldn't work out why. It wasn't as if Remus played any sports, or was even particularly active in the first place, so he couldn't have injured himself. They urged him to go to Madam Pomfrey, but he was adamant that he was fine. He knew he needed to take it off, but he also thought he could deal with it. Yes, it hurt, but at least his chest wasn't noticeable. The positives seemed to outweigh the negatives.

But then he had a thought. Perhaps it was somewhat manipulative, and he'd certainly be in trouble. It may even backfire, but even he knew that by this point he'd sort of backed himself into a wall, so he might as well try and use it to his advantage.

He visited Madam Pomfrey, who was predictably very angry at him.

"You didn't listen to a word I said, did you?" she reprimanded when he told her what he had done. "How could you do this to yourself? You've bruised several ribs, you're going to be sore for weeks now, and you can't even wear the sports bra again until you're fully healed." Remus let her words slide off his back. He knew what he was doing.

He started crying, telling her he was sorry, and that it was so hard for him to take it off, which was the truth— he really hadn't been able to bring himself to take his binder off; but the tears were an added effect. Madam Pomfrey softened slightly, said they would opt for shrinking his chest instead. He could use the binder at a later date, when he was ready and able to use it properly.

"And I'll be talking to your parents," she added sternly. Remus tried to look guilty, but secretly, things were going to plan.

Remus didn't hear from his parents until a week later, on his birthday.

He didn't intend to tell his friends about his birthday. Birthdays weren't really his thing. As a child, he hadn't wanted to grow up because it meant his body would eventually change, and not to mention the fact that, as a werewolf, his future as an outcast in wizarding society was forever hanging over his back like the sword of Damocles. Birthdays were just a constant reminder.

He didn't open his cards at the breakfast table, giving vague answers when his friends asked why so many letters had been sent to him. There was also a small wrapped box, which Remus did open, since packages from home was a common occurrence for nearly everyone at Hogwarts, and therefore not indicative of a birthday.

"What's that for?" asked Peter. He was looking at the contents of Remus's tiny parcel, which was just an empty vial with a blue ribbon wrapped around the top.

Remus had an idea of what it was, but he didn't dare get his hopes up. An accompanying note, clearly in his mother's handwriting, told him to meet them in the fireplace in McGonagall's office at lunchtime.

Needless to say, Remus couldn't focus at all throughout the morning lessons.

Finally, at eleven fifty nine am, Remus's class was discharged from their charms lesson by Professor Flitwick, and Remus was able to make his way to McGonagall's office. This had been the first time Remus had spoken to his father since the holidays had ended, over two months ago. He'd sent letters of course, but they were to both of his parents, not specifically to Lyall, and they didn't involve face to face conversation.

His father looked the same— Remus didn't know what he had been expecting— if a little unshaven, which wasn't like him at all. He was a very neat man, always on top of his self-grooming. Remus, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. But Remus didn't care to ponder his father's appearance, as he was more focused on getting confirmation on what he was thinking— or at least hoping.

"I'm getting the potion?" His mother was struggling not to smile, while his father remained stern.

"Madam Pomfrey told us what you did," he began. "It was entirely irresponsible. I don't know why we're even letting you take the potion after a stunt like that." Well, thought Remus, maybe because— again— my identity isn't a punishment? But he put that thought aside, because as it now stood: they were letting him take the potion, and he wasn't about to argue with them at a time like this.

Remus failed to hide his excitement, which wasn't the reaction Lyall was hoping for.

"Did you hear what I said? You are in big trouble, young man." Hope rolled her eyes.

"Oh let him celebrate, Lyall, this is a big moment." Lyall just raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"Once again, I'm the bad guy," he muttered, loud enough for them all to hear.

"For God's sake, not now." Remus shared his mother's sentiments. She turned back to her son.

"We're letting you take the potion," she confirmed. "But you have to listen to Madam Pomfrey, and don't do anything rash. Just take it slowly."

"I know, I know, I will."

"And don't do what you did with your chest again," continued Lyall. "That was dangerous."

"How is your chest, love?"

"It's fine." It was still sore, and his movement was still limited, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been. "Not much bruising left."

"Good. Obviously we don't want you to feel like you have to go to that extreme, which is why we're letting you take the potion so soon."

"Mm hm."

"But," said Lyall. "Don't get ahead of yourself. As your mother says, listen to Madam Pomfrey."

"I will, I will." From outside the doorway, Remus could hear the sound of loud chatter and footsteps. Class was starting. "I have to go," he informed.

"Alright, and we'll all in agreement? We know what we're doing?" Hope looked around at the two of them. Remus nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes," assured Lyall.

"Good. We'll let you go, Remus. And happy birthday!" she remembered, as did his father, who finally smiled at him properly.

"Thanks," acknowledged Remus. He swore he could hear James's loud voice from behind the doors, so after the usual goodbyes, Remus stood up, stretched, and went to join his classmates. He slipped out of the office without anyone noticing him.

For once, he couldn't wait to see Madam Pomfrey.

"Now, I'm going to give you a vial to last you four weeks at a time. That's half a bottle every two weeks. When the vial has finished, you can return here for a refill."

"Okay!" Remus was bouncing on his toes impatiently. Now that the potion was finally in his grasp, he just wanted to take it, drink it up, no more wasting time, but Madam Pomfrey was taking such an annoyingly long time in handing it over. She kept going on and on about what to expect, which he tried to listen to, really he did, but it was right there in her hand.

"Don't expect any immediate results," she was saying. "It takes time for anything dramatic to happen. It won't flatten your chest—"

"I know—"

"— And there's no guarantee that you won't still get your period for the first few months. Although, that really only depends on if you were going to get your period in the first place, potion or not."

"Can I have it now?" His pleas went largely ignored.

"Do not take any more that your allotted dose, although it can be changed depending on your body's reaction, but you must come to me to discuss it."

"Uh huh."

"And come to me immediately if there are any side effects that are causing you problems. Don't try and hide anything that you think I should know about."

"Mm."

"And don't expect it to make your voice fully deep. It can lower the pitch, but the rest is up to you and where you speak from." That was actually news to Remus, but he supposed it didn't matter. He already knew that girls tended to talk from around their mouth and nose, while boys tended to speak from their throat. He'd figured that out with aunt Selene when he was eight and visiting her for the week. He'd been talking from his throat ever since.

"Other than that, just keep me updated." And she finally— finally— handed him the potion. Remus held it in his hand.

"So do I drink it?" He asked, oddly nervous all of a sudden.

"Well I'd certainly rather you drink it here, so I can make sure you take it properly." He uncapped the bottle with a small 'pop' sound. This was it. If he wasn't so impatient, he'd almost want to savour the moment.

But he didn't.

He brought the bottle to his lips, and drank half of it down.