Remus was exhausted the next day, and the pain in his leg hadn't let up at all.

"How much did you sleep last night, Moony?" asked James the next morning as Remus drunkenly tried to pull a sock over his aching leg.

"About four."

"Hours?"

"Minutes."

"Oh."

Remus sighed. "I'm all right. There was just a lot on my mind."

"There's always a lot on your mind," said Sirius, thumping Remus upside the head playfully. Remus closed his eyes as pain shot through his whole body. His head was pounding.

"You might want to skip your first class," said Peter.

"Why? You don't think I can handle it?"

"No, I don't think you want to handle it. There's no shame in skipping a day if you don't feel well. Students do it all the time."

"Hell, I did it last Friday," offered James.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You didn't skip last Friday because you didn't feel well. You skipped it because you wanted to practice for the Quidditch game."

"Same thing, really. Go on, Moony. Just take a nap."

Remus stared at his bed. It seemed like the most luscious thing in the world… the pillows were fluffy and cool, and the blankets were warm. He longed to close his eyes and stretch out his legs beneath the sheets… he longed to forget, if only for a moment, about the pain and troubles that had plagued him all night.

"I can't," he said. "We have Charms today, and I'll bet you anything we're learning a new spell. It might be on the exam. I haven't been doing very well in Charms recently, so I think I need to go."

"Swot," accused Sirius. "Just sleep!"

"I can't."

Truth be told, Remus was still thinking about what Mallory had said the night prior. He would not let his curse win. He would go to class, just like any other person, and he would pay attention.

Besides: he hadn't been able to sleep an hour ago, so why would that be any different now? What Remus needed right now was a distraction, not a lie-in.

"I'm going to class, and that's that," he announced.

"If you say so." James tossed Remus a shoe, and Remus did not catch it; instead, it bounced miserably off of his chest, and Remus had to bend to pick it up. "The good news is that we have plenty of time for breakfast."

"Huzzah," mumbled Remus, who thought that he might fall asleep in the middle of it.

He didn't fall asleep in the middle of breakfast. He didn't even fall asleep in the middle of Charms, which was a blessed surprise.

He did, however, fall asleep in the middle of Transfiguration, and James (who was sitting directly next to him), didn't even try to wake him up.

Remus awoke to Professor McGonagall's dulcet tones (i.e. strict and snappish) calling his name. It surprised him so much that he woke up with a start and immediately knocked his head against James'. "Sorrysorrysorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to fall asleep; I promise."

"See that it doesn't happen again," said McGonagall.

Remus tried his best to keep his eyes open after that, but they kept closing of their own accord. Remus stood up (much more harshly than he intended), and everyone stopped and stared.

"Loo," he muttered.

"You don't need to tell me that," said McGonagall.

There was some snickering, and Remus nodded and ducked out of the room as quickly as possible, where he began to walk around in order to wake himself up. Once he was satisfied with the way his eyes stayed open, he went back to class and took his seat.

McGonagall was staring at him. Remus could tell.

Sure enough, as soon as the class was dismissed, she wordlessly raised her eyebrows at him. Her intention was clear enough, and Remus sheepishly nodded and sat back down.

"You lot can go to Potions without me," he told his friends. "I'll see you sometime later."

James, however, wasn't mollified. "Minerva," he said, "you can't punish Remus. It was an accident. He was up all night last night, and he's absolutely exhausted, and…"

"Thank you, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, "but I don't believe I've ever been known to be an unfair person. You may leave."

James slowly nodded, and then he trudged out of the classroom, followed by Sirius and Peter. Remus slumped into his seat and opened his mouth to apologize.

"Stop," said McGonagall.

Remus closed his mouth.

"I want you to be completely honest with me, Lupin. Would you benefit from going to the Hospital Wing?"

He chewed his bottom lip. "Er, probably."

"And is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, Professor."

"Very well. I suggest you go directly to the Hospital Wing, then, and please do not take any detours."

Remus paused. He wasn't sure if he was genuinely confused or simply tired.

"Is something wrong?"

"Er, no… it's just… are you going to give me a detention?"

"For what?"

"For falling asleep in class."

"Of course not. You're very clearly ill, and I know you to be a respectful student who would never fall asleep to be rude. It was a perfect accident, and you hardly disrupted class at all. Catching up the work you missed will be punishment enough. I merely wanted to check in with you personally, because I know you won't go to the Hospital Wing without being explicitly told."

Remus blinked. "Professor Questus gave me detention in first year for falling asleep in class. I thought that was just standard."

"I believe Questus merely wanted a chance to talk to you privately," said McGonagall with a smile.

"Oh. That makes sense."

"Do you need me to walk you to the Hospital Wing?"

"No, I can go myself, Professor. Thank you."

"Of course. And Lupin?"

"Yes?"

She opened the door for him. "Next time, go there first."

Madam Pomfrey, to Remus' surprise, did not seem shocked to see him, despite the fact that he rarely ever went to the Hospital Wing when it wasn't a full moon.

"Lie down," she commanded. "You look dreadful. Nearly fell asleep into your porridge this morning at breakfast, didn't you?"

"I must have come down with something," said Remus cautiously, glancing at the occupied bed a ways away from him.

"Must have. Why don't you come into my office for now? There's a potion I'm brewing in there that may help."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

She helped him up, and then he followed her into her office, which was thoroughly Soundproofed. The door shut behind them, and Remus collapsed into the bed that was normally his before and after a full moon. His leg felt awful.

"I'm sorry," he babbled. "I'm not sure why it's like this. I couldn't sleep, and my leg hurts worse than it normally does, and everything hurts worse than it normally does, and I'm absolutely exhausted."

Madam Pomfrey patted his hand. "It's all right to be feeling like that," she said. "What is not all right is going to class when you're feeling like that."

"But I already miss enough class when it's a full moon, and my professors aren't going to be very happy if I miss other classes, too. I might as well be homeschooled in the Hospital Wing if I miss any more class!"

"And that is absolutely a possibility should you ever need it," said Madam Pomfrey sharply. "Remus, the professors are well aware that your lycanthropy affects you during other times of the month. Such a violent and invasive illness affects a person constantly. You've endured more than a hundred transformations, and your joints and muscles are bound to be exhausted at times. You are allowed to miss class whenever you need to."

"That doesn't seem fair. Plenty of other students stay up late doing homework and have to go to class anyway."

"And why were you staying up?"

"My leg hurt."

"Staying up for schoolwork is a choice. Staying up because of pain is a medical issue that merits missing class. Understood?"

Remus sighed. "I suppose."

"So did you do something to your leg, or are you in pain for no discernable reason?"

"No discernable reason. My back hurts, too."

"All right. Just lie back and try to sleep, all right? I'm going to try to figure out how to help you. Here's a Pain-Relieving Potion for now."

Remus drank it, swallowing the cool, thick liquid that felt like heaven itself. Pain-Relieving Potion was absolutely disgusting, but he'd come to get used to the taste—and right now, it was the best thing in the world. Remus leaned against the pillow and closed his eyes, and he felt that he would never go to sleep so quickly again. It was pure, unadulterated bliss.

Madam Pomfrey's footsteps and whispered spells, once at the forefront of Remus' mind, faded slowly to the back… and then they were replaced with dreams of arithmancy, Mandrakes, and Transfiguration.

Remus opened his eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was half two, which meant he'd been sleeping for several hours.

"Good morning," said Madam Pomfrey.

"Afternoon, you mean." Remus yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Thanks for the potion. I feel great."

"That may be, in part, because I fixed the problem." Despite her happy words, Madam Pomfrey was frowning slightly. "Remus, your leg was broken."

"What? No, it wasn't."

"There were no bad breaks, but it was certainly fractured. What happened?"

"Nothing! I swear nothing happened, Madam Pomfrey. I didn't do anything more strenuous than walking. I swear on my life!" Remus suddenly remembered the hole that he and his friends were digging in the Forbidden Forest. "Well, maybe not my life… I did dig a hole with my friends the other day. But that wasn't especially strenuous at all! I hardly broke a sweat!"

"All right, all right. I believe you. I've been doing some research." Madam Pomfrey pulled out a familiar-looking book, and Remus cringed.

"I saw that in the library the other day," he said, staring at the title: Magical, Medical, and Mental Care for Werewolves. "It's, erm… not especially accurate."

"I know. I'm taking everything I read in here with a grain of salt. That said, I am hoping it will lead me down the right path when considering certain medical issues. I've also been cross-consulting this." Madam Pomfrey held up the Alexander Adamson's second book and smiled. "This one was a lot more helpful, to be honest."

"Did you find anything?"

"I found a couple of studies that confirmed my suspicions," she said. "Remus, you're a month shy of your tenth year of being a werewolf. Usually, werewolves don't stay in human society that long—considering they live that long. The average life expectancy after becoming a werewolf is thirteen years, and that's only counting the werewolves who were Registered and then confirmed dead by the Ministry. I'm guessing the vast majority of werewolves who live past thirteen years lived out those years on the run or in packs."

"Yes," Remus said softly.

"You're an anomaly, Remus, especially since you started transforming at such a young age. There are very few werewolves who make it to ten years in human society and end up going through all stages of puberty while already a werewolf. You were hardly more than a toddler when bitten, and you grew with the curse instead of acquiring the curse after you were grown."

"I suppose you're right."

"Here's what I think is happening," she said. "You have transformed so much, with such frequency and such little time to heal in between, that it's having a more permanent effect on your body. Your bones have reformed hundreds of time, and as such, your bones are becoming progressively weaker."

Remus sat up straighter, horrified. "My bones are dying?" he yelped.

"Becoming weaker. I'm not sure how permanent this is. It's possible it functions like hills and valleys—you have moments of bone weakness, and then the transformations heal you in part, and they become strong again. I suspect they're just as strong as they ever were on full moons, aren't they?"

"I think so. I'm, erm… not especially focused on keeping inventory of my body during those times."

"You're in that difficult spot of being both a dangerous wolf and an ill human, and I still don't really understand how that works. That said, your bones are definitely weaker than they were before Christmas holidays. Did you break any bones during that time?"

"I remember I broke more than I normally do on the full moon last month… and I broke my wrist while trying to pour tea."

"Yes, that's probably where it started, then. The last full moon pushed you over the edge from general bone soreness to the type of bone weakness that has tangible effects."

"Is there… is there any way to fix it?"

She sighed. "Yes. I've been wanting to start you on regular medication for a while, and I think this is a good time."

"Regular medication? Like what?"

Madam Pomfrey reached into a drawer and pulled out a couple of bottles. "This potion will strengthen your bones," she said, pointing to a black one. "This one is for daily pain management. This one is for fatigue. And… this one is for mood regulation."

"I'm not taking that last one," said Remus stiffly. "I don't take mind-altering potions."

"It doesn't alter your mind, Remus. You still have free will. It merely makes it easier to focus on the emotions you want to feel. You'll still feel everything—anxiety, depression, aftereffects of trauma—but you'll get to choose what to think about. If anything, this potion will give you more free will than before."

"I don't care. I'm not taking it."

She sighed. "Fine. I won't force you. Will you take the others, at least?"

"Every day?"

"Every day. Hopefully, the one for fatigue will regulate your circadian rhythm enough that you'll be able to stay awake throughout the day and sleep at night."

"What if I forget to take them one day?"

Madam Pomfrey sat down in the chair next to Remus' bed and clasped her hands on her lap. "All right, I'm going to be honest with you," she said. "Choosing to take these potions is a huge commitment. The magic is going to help immensely, but once your body becomes used to being under constant effects of magic, it's not going to know what to do if you stop taking the potions. The withdrawal period is very uncomfortable, and it lasts about a week and a half."

"And… how much do they cost?"

"The school is paying for them."

"But what about summers? What about once I graduate Hogwarts? I'm going to have to pay at some point."

"I am absolutely certain that your parents will be able to afford them, but Hogwarts will pay for summers if we need to. As for after Hogwarts… it's going to be difficult if you don't have a good career, but even if worst comes to absolute worst, I would argue that being in less pain during Hogwarts is worth the brief withdrawal period. Don't you agree?"

"Will it permanently harm my immune system? I can't risk that with a monthly transformation."

"The potions should have no permanent effects. Plenty of people take a daily potion for all sorts of problems, and they haven't been linked to any immune system problems."

"Who? Who do you know that takes a daily potion?"

"I can't divulge that information. I can, however, tell you that there are many students at this very school who do, and there are also a couple of professors. It's a rather common thing. And… I suppose my sister wouldn't mind me telling you that she takes one for mood regulation. It helps with anxiety immensely."

Remus remembered Manard telling him that the daily potions didn't work, and he frowned. "And…" Remus closed his eyes. "This will make me feel better?"

"Not completely. It should help, though—perhaps not a lot, but definitely a little, and a little can be the difference between sleepless nights and a well-rested body."

The decision should have been easy. Remus should have told her that he would take them, because shouldn't everybody want to feel better? It was a simple equation. If he took them, he would be happier. If he didn't, he wouldn't.

But there was some part of Remus that was incredibly stubborn. In that part of his mind—those deep recesses that seemed to inhibit Remus' happiness wherever he went—Remus felt as if taking the potions would be admitting defeat.

Taking those potions would mean that Remus could not deal with it himself. It meant that he needed magical help all the time; not only after a full moon. It meant that he was hardly a person—no, he was just a skeleton held together with magic. He could never be independent if he relied completely on something else. Greyback had taken everything from Remus, and this was his last shred of dignity. If he started taking these potions, what accomplishments could he even call his own?

He was being silly. He knew, logically, that relying on medication was a common and acceptable thing. He knew that he wouldn't be able to function anyway without magic—he'd be completely incapacitated from full moon to full moon without Madam Pomfrey's excellent healing powers. The potions wouldn't change anything at all for the worse; only for the better.

But still (as Remus had reminded Professor Questus over and over in his first and second year): fears weren't always rational.

"I knew you wouldn't agree to this immediately," said Madam Pomfrey. "Talk to me, Remus."

"I want to be independent," said Remus. He hoped that was enough.

"And this will make you more independent. Not less."

"Erm." Yes, Remus knew that, but he was still afraid. "What do my parents think?"

"They very much would like you to take the potions."

"I… I just… Madam Pomfrey, I want to, but I… I'm afraid, for some reason. I can't logic my way out. I just am."

It didn't make any sense, but to Remus' great surprise, Madam Pomfrey said, "I understand."

"You do?"

"Of course. I knew you wouldn't want to. Otherwise I would have suggested this much, much earlier—well, that and also the fact that I couldn't find good daily potions that don't contain wolfsbane. Remus, you have no control over your body once a month, and you are afraid of anything that forces you to surrender any remaining control. Am I correct?"

Remus thought back to his panic at his friends' Animagi proposal… his refusal to take mind-altering potions… his insistence on sitting up whenever Madam Pomfrey came to collect him from the Shrieking Shack, and then walking back to the castle himself in terrible pain. He thought about how much he hated how Manard made him feel. He thought about the deep, dark helpless feeling that had plagued him to the point of depression.

"You're correct," he said quietly.

"I'm not going to force you to take the potions, because it is absolutely your choice. I will say, however, that if you are certain that you want to up here—" Madam Pomfrey pointed to her head— "then the only way to get rid of those feelings down here—" She pointed to her heart— "is to do it in spite of the fear. It is only then that you will realize that it's not so scary after all."

Remus stared at Madam Pomfrey… and then the potions bottles… and then his gaze dropped to his own Gryffindor tie.

"Yeah, I'll do it," he said. "Not the mind-altering one, but the rest. I am a Gryffindor, after all."

"I think that's the right choice," said Madam Pomfrey. She poured three small cups for Remus, and he drank each potion without a second thought (because the less he thought about it, the less scared he was).

Fear was a really dumb thing sometimes.