Remus' friends came back to visit again the next day, and James brought a book with him.

"Quidditch Through the Ages?" asked Remus, reading the title. "Look, mate, I appreciate the thought, but I'm not that interested in Quidditch."

James Soundproofed the room and then dropped the book on Remus' lap—Remus yelped in pain, but James didn't seem to notice. "It's not Quidditch," he said eagerly. "It's a fake title. It's an Animagus book, and I thought we'd walk you through what we'll be doing. You can offer up your thoughts."

"It's nice that you're finally helping us instead of sabotaging us," said Sirius. "It was annoying last year when we had to start over with the leaves every month."

"It was annoying when I had to sabotage you every month," grumbled Remus. "I really, really don't think this is a good idea, lads."

"But you agreed to it, and no takebacks," James said. "Do you want to help us or not?"

Remus' stomach squirmed. No, he didn't. He did not want to help his friends to an early grave. But at the same time… perhaps Peter had been right. Perhaps Remus really did have an unhealthy obsession with being in control, at least a little.

Not all the time, of course, because Remus wasn't the type of person to speak up when things didn't go his way. He'd gone to the Three Broomsticks with his friends one weekend last year, and Rosmerta had given him a Gillywater instead of a Butterbeer. Remus hadn't said a word, even though he didn't much like Gillywater. He'd just sipped it and pretended that everything was all right.

Remus was a people-pleaser. He wasn't a leader. He wasn't a perfectionist. He didn't often snap at people. It was just fine with Remus when things didn't go his way, contrary to most people who were accused of having an obsession with control (like Puttle the Prefect, who, much to most of the Gryffindors' delight, had graduated the year prior).

But Remus didn't feel comfortable with some types of loss of control… specifically, not knowing. Remus didn't have to fix, but he had to know. He wanted to know every facet about this project—it was like being unable to look away from a gory scene, or being powerless to tear one's eyes away from a scary part in a novel. Remus had to know. That was why he liked routine so much.

"Yeah, let me see that," he mumbled, opening the book to the first chapter. "You have a plan?"

"Of course we do!" James pulled a few pieces of parchment out of his pocket and handed them to Remus. "Enjoy."

Remus read a few lines, and then he put it down. "I'm going to need a day to think about this. Do you mind leaving me alone for a while to read? We can talk tomorrow."

Sirius frowned. "Are you planning on Vanishing the plan or the book? It won't work. Prongs made copies."

"No. No more sabotage. I just need to digest it."

"All right." Sirius and Peter left the room, joking about how digesting books couldn't be very good for one's stomach, but James stayed behind for a moment.

"Moony," he said, "you're doing the right thing."

Remus rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not. I can't stand the pain anymore, so I'm letting you put yourselves in danger. I'm doing exactly what Greyback does—what all feral werewolves do."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. Werewolves who join a pack aren't doing it because they want to kill people; they're doing it because they know that giving into their murderous desires will lessen some of the pain. Aren't I doing the same thing? I'm putting others in danger to relieve some of my own pain, even though I know full well you might not survive!"

"It's not the same thing," said James, "because we agreed to it. We want to do it. We'll suffer more if you don't let us do it than if you do. Wouldn't the morality of it be different if werewolf victims begged to be bitten? If being bitten would relieve some intense guilt? If they signed forms saying they understood the risks? If the werewolf didn't do it in malicious intent? If it had been done before entirely safely, with no negative or painful effects? If it was done in a totally safe and secure environment?"

"I… I mean, biting a human is still terribly immoral, no matter how you look at it…"

James crossed his arms. "Well, I disagree. I mean, I agree, because there's no way—that we know of—to be a werewolf without painful side effects. But if there were, then I would disagree. Come on, Moony, don't you see? It's not that you're choosing to risk us for your benefit; it's that we're choosing to risk ourselves for both of our benefits. And it's not even much of a risk. You know we're brilliant."

"I know, it's just… I don't want anything bad to happen."

"Bad things have already happened, and worse things will happen if we don't do this. Think of it as a chance of a very good thing that's going to happen!"

"I can't."

"Then don't think about it at all. You needn't be involved too much. We can handle it."

Remus stared at the book… at James… at the notes. "I'm really tired," he whispered. "I'm going to sleep."

"Okay, mate." James stood up and removed the Soundproofing Charm. He filled Remus' glass with water, he helped adjust Remus' bedsheets (they were caught on Remus' foot, and Remus couldn't move them without sitting up more and contorting his stiff bones into a painful position), and he took the book from Remus and placed it on the bedside table.

"Thanks," said Remus. "I could have done all that by myself, but thanks."

James stared. "No, you couldn't have. You can barely blink for yourself. Maybe this is your problem—maybe it's an ego thing. Maybe you have such a high opinion of yourself that you can't stand thinking you can't do something."

James leaned closer and said, "You can't do this, Moony. You can't. You're not strong enough, you're not good enough, and you're not brave enough. But that's okay, and we're here to help."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Remus said, "Appreciate the vote of confidence. Now leave me alone."

"All right, then. Sleep well. See you tomorrow."

"See you," said Remus, and then he slept.

He was altogether tired of thinking.

At about eleven, Remus woke up to noises coming from the main ward.

First, he heard Madam Pomfrey's voice, soothing and far too familiar, just like it was after a full moon. Then he heard broken sobs and ragged breathing—noises that Remus himself sometimes made after a full moon. Unlike the full moon, though, Remus wasn't involved at all. Here he sat, relatively unaffected, pain stemmed enough that he didn't need Madam Pomfrey at the moment whatsoever.

It didn't take Remus long to realize that the voice in the other room was Sal Manard.

"This is far worse than I thought it would be," Manard managed to say through obviously gritted teeth.

"That's the problem with taking Pain-Relieving Potions twice in a single span of twenty-four hours," Madam Pomfrey replied. "On an overload of Pain-Relieving Potions, the magical person's response to pain is confused and abnormal. As the body remembers how to feel pain during a detox, it will be far more sensitive to external stimuli. Recovering from a severe injury and detoxing from the potion at the same time is incredibly painful, which is why any reasonable Healer working with sufferers of chronic pain advises them to be very careful with how many Pain-Relieving Potions they take."

Manard let out a long breath. "Then why detox at all?"

"If you keep taking multiple potions a day for long enough, then the pain is likely to literally kill you if you miss a dose. Also, when your resistance builds up, you'll have to start taking more and more, which will increase the effects of the detoxication period even more."

"I'd rather take potions a hundred times a day than go through this!"

"You'll thank me when it's all over. Only a few days left, Sal."

There was some silence, and then Manard asked, "Is Remus awake?"

"Remus? I'm not sure. I can check if you'd like."

"Sure. I just hope he's not hearing this is all. He knows that I was attacked by a werewolf—if he realizes that mere claws can do this, then I can't imagine how inhuman he'll feel."

"He knows exactly what werewolf claws can do. He was attacked by a werewolf as a young boy, and he continues to be attacked every single month. Twice this month, in fact, since the next full moon is on the thirty-first. As he is currently lying in bed with injuries far worse than yours, I don't think any of this is news to him."

"Of course it's not news to him. But it'll still bother him, being reminded that there are people out there suffering from his species. You know how he is."

"Oh, that's rich. You're not suffering like this because of what that werewolf did to you. You're suffering like this because you were stupid enough to take three Pain-Relieving Potions during a single twenty-four-hour period!"

"You know how he is," repeated Manard. "And, forgive me, but I heard you talking earlier… it seems that his mental state is in a sensitive place right now. He'll be quick to blame himself."

"Well, whether he's awake or asleep, I'm sure he doesn't appreciate us talking behind his back!" Madam Pomfrey snapped.

"I know," groaned Manard. "I'm not thinking straight. I'm in a lot of pain. Can't you just give me… one drop of the Pain-Relieving Potion? Just a little?"

"Absolutely not. But I'll make you some tea, and you can read a book or mark some student essays to take your mind off the pain. You do have a bit to get done."

There were footsteps, and then the door to Madam Pomfrey's office opened: Remus closed his eyes, went limp, and pretended to be asleep. Fortunately, Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking very hard. The door closed, and then she said to Manard, "He's asleep, thank goodness. I'm making some tea. I'll be right back."

She left.

The Hospital Wing was silent for a while, save Manard's heavy breathing and Remus' heartbeat.

"I know you're not sleeping, Remus," said Manard, voice wobbly from pain, "and I think it's selfish that you continue to live when something could go wrong at any moment. Even if you're not lying about having morals right now, you could very well lose them later on. Isn't it selfish to risk that?"

Remus set his jaw. He was being selfish, but not by merely continuing to live. He was being selfish because he wasn't being careful enough. Werewolves could do that, and Remus was being selfish in exposing his friends to a werewolf on the full moon. He was being selfish. Selfish. Manard didn't know about the Animagi, but he'd still managed to get under Remus' skin about it. Truly, it was a gift.

"Werewolves must lose their morals at some point," said Manard quietly, "because you and I both know that Fenrir Greyback cannot possibly be so terrible without some sort of mental aid. How can a mere person do all that without any trace of guilt? It's not possible."

Remus didn't move. He stayed perfectly still when Madam Pomfrey came back, when Manard drank the tea, when Madam Pomfrey and Manard traded stories of students amidst laughter (they seemed to be getting on well every so often, to Remus' dismay).

Eventually, despite the slight nausea, Remus fell asleep.

Manard left the Hospital Wing one day before Remus was due to leave. It had been a little more than a week for both of them. For Manard, Dumbledore had hired a supply teacher, who met with Manard every day, discussed curriculum, and gave him essays to mark. For Remus, Madam Pomfrey had been sure to pick up some make-up work from his teachers.

Remus hadn't done any of it.

That was strange for Remus, who typically used homework as an escape—as something else to focus on rather than the pain and the boredom. But lately, he just hadn't felt like doing work.

He did read the Animagus book that James had left him. When his friends came back to ask if he'd finished, though, Remus said he hadn't read it yet—not because it was the truth, but because Remus didn't have the energy to talk about Animagi at the time.

The day after Manard left, Madam Pomfrey told Remus that he was well enough to go back to class. "You'll still have a limp, but it won't be very noticeable," she said. "I want you to eat as much as possible and drink plenty of water, and I want you to change the dressings on your wounds at least twice a day. But, as long as you promise not to overexert yourself, you're free to go."

"No, thank you," Remus said.

"What?"

"No, thank you. I still feel ill."

"Of course you do. That's never stopped you before."

"I just… I think I need a lie-in."

"You've had a lie-in for more than a week!"

"Madam Pomfrey, I want to stay!"

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "I never thought I'd have to tell you this, but no, you are not permitted to stay in the Hospital Wing. Get out of my office. Go to class. Talk to your friends. Do something stupid."

"I don't feel like it!"

Madam Pomfrey stared at him for another moment, eyebrows crinkled, and then she said, "Fine."

"Really?"

"Yes. Fine. Another day, and then you go back to classes. All right?"

"Okay. Thank you so much."

"Yes, yes. You're welcome. But I do have one condition."

"Yes?"

"You need to finish your homework. I know you haven't done any yet, and you're dreadfully behind. Use today to catch up."

Remus groaned. "Madam Pomfrey. I'm ill. I can't do homework, I need to rest."

"You are perfectly capable. Start with Transfiguration, because Professor McGonagall has told me that you failed a test a couple of weeks ago. Start. Now."

Remus sighed and started on his Transfiguration homework, but he certainly didn't do his best. He was too tired.

"One more day," Remus begged Madam Pomfrey the next morning. "Just one more day. Please. My leg hurts too much to walk, I swear."

"No, it doesn't. Get dressed."

"No! I feel ill!"

"You're being ridiculous. I have checked you over dozens of times, and you are not ill."

"Please. Please."

"No."

"Please!"

"No! What part of no don't you understand?"

Remus panicked. He had Defense Against the Dark Arts that day, and he could not go to Defense Against the Dark Arts. There was no way that he could face Professor Manard—not today, not ever. Remus grabbed his wand from his bedside table, and before Madam Pomfrey could stop him, he pointed it directly at his head and said, "Stupefy."

He awoke to a very angry Madam Pomfrey.

"That was stupid," she snapped. "The spell was too emotionally charged, and you ended up knocking your head against the headboard hard enough to get a full-blown concussion. I couldn't wake you. Do you know how terrifying that was for me?"

"I was terrified, too," Remus argued. His head was twinging, but he didn't really care. "I didn't want to go back to class. That was a last resort."

"Well, congratulations, because you cannot go to class today while the potion I've given you takes the edge off the concussion. In fact, I have half a mind to assign you a week's worth of detentions."

"With you? That might be okay."

"No, it wouldn't, because clearly, I am not helping anything! Resorting to such self-destructive behavior is extremely serious, Remus, for any reason, and…"

"I needed another day here."

"No, you didn't! Name one thing that was physically wrong with you before the concussion, I dare you. One thing that prevented you from attending class. One thing!"

"I'm tired."

Before Remus could even register it, Madam Pomfrey had slapped him across the arm—not hard enough to hurt, necessarily, but hard enough to sting. He gaped at her, eyes filling with tears—not because it had hurt, but because Madam Pomfrey had hit him. "I could report that," he said woodenly, but the power of the threat was diluted significantly by Remus' tears. His face was hot, and the tears were hotter—dripping down his chin, into his clothes, into Madam Pomfrey's frock, because she was holding him now….

He cried.

Time passed.

After a while, Remus lifted his head, face splotchy, eyes swollen, and skin hot with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he said.

"No, I'm sorry," said Madam Pomfrey. "Hitting you was entirely inappropriate."

"Why did you do it, then?"

"Because you have a very high pain threshold, so I wasn't worried about physically hurting you. Emotionally, though—I thought it would be a severe emotional blow, I thought you'd probably cry, and I knew that crying releases endorphins. I thought you'd be able to work though the other pain once I'd gotten you started, and I thought that would help you think a bit straighter. You needed a shock. But… yes, it was a long shot, and I shouldn't have done it."

"I do think it helped," said Remus, mopping his face.

"I'm glad, but it was not the right thing to do. It could have made things so much worse, and I'm very sorry. I make mistakes sometimes, too."

Remus wasn't sure what to say to that, so he elected not to respond. He really did feel better; oddly enough, he felt almost strong enough to do something small. "I think I might be able to go back to class tomorrow," he said a few moments later.

"Good. That's all I ask: I want you to try."

"I still don't see the point."

"You don't get motivated to do something before you start. You only get motivated after starting."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It will. Trust me, Remus. Don't I usually know what I'm talking about?"

Remus sighed, and the air whooshing out of his lungs was a lot more shuddery than he would have liked. "I guess you do," he said.

"So you trust me?"

"Yes."

"And you'll try?"

"Yes."

"And you'll ask for help if you need it?"

"Yes."

"Good. My prescription, therefore, is this: before the next full moon, I want you to do one fun thing, one loud thing, one unexpected thing, and one stupid thing. Just four things. All right?"

"I suppose I can do that."

"Of course you can. Also…" Madam Pomfrey handed Remus a small slip of paper. "You have a detention with Professor Dumbledore in three days. I don't blame you for Stunning yourself, because I know you weren't fully in your right mind. But it was still idiotic and dangerous, so I'm giving you a detention. I suspect Professor Dumbledore can help you much better than I can, anyway."

Remus groaned. Professor Dumbledore was more likely to find out about Manard. "Can't I do it with you?" he begged. "Or Professor McGonagall, or Professor Flitwick, or… literally anyone else?"

She frowned. "I thought you liked Professor Dumbledore."

"He'll want to talk. He'll try to fix me."

"Yes, that is rather the point. Now, you leave first thing in the morning, so make sure you have your homework done."

Remus picked up his Runes textbook and tried. After all, that was just about all he could do.