24th October 1972

Remus knew the routine by now. Every month, the full moon rose, and every month, he lost control. He woke up in the Hospital Wing with aching bones, fresh wounds, and Madam Pomfrey's ever-watchful gaze. She did what she could, but the pain lingered long after the moon had set.

This time was no different. He returned to class on trembling legs, the deep ache settling into his joints like an unwelcome guest. He had bandaged the worst of the fresh wounds himself, but the limp was harder to hide. The dull throb in his ribs with every breath reminded him that no matter how careful Pomfrey was, no matter how much she tried to mend him, he would never walk away from a full moon unscathed.

"Remus, are you alright?"

Remus barely had time to sit down in Transfiguration before James' voice cut through his haze. James was watching him with that familiar, concerned frown. Sirius, sitting beside him, had his arms crossed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied Remus. Peter, on the other hand, was staring at him in a way that made Remus' skin crawl—like he was watching for something, waiting for Remus to slip up.

"I'm fine," Remus muttered, keeping his voice even. "Just feeling a bit sick."

Sirius snorted. "Right. Because getting sick just so happens to come with fresh scars and a limp?"

Remus forced a chuckle. "Bad fall."

James exchanged a glance with Sirius, and Remus could practically hear the unspoken conversation between them. But to his relief, McGonagall swept into the room before they could press him further.

…

Lily had been distant.

At first, Remus thought it was just stress. The workload was piling up, and she had always taken school more seriously than most of them. But as the weeks passed, he noticed little things—how she lingered at the edge of conversations without joining in, how her usual sharp retorts to James had become half-hearted, how she spent more time alone in the library.

She now sat alone in the common room instead of with him. She was quieter, more withdrawn, as though carrying a weight she didn't want anyone to see.

One evening, he found her alone in an alcove near the library, a book open in her lap, but her gaze unfocused.

"Lily?" he asked hesitantly.

She blinked and looked up as if she had just realised he was there. "Oh. Hey, Remus."

"You alright?" he asked, lowering himself onto the bench beside her.

She hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. Just tired."

Remus studied her for a moment. "You've been quieter lately."

Lily gave a small, strained smile. "Just got a lot on my mind, I suppose."

Remus nodded slowly. He knew better than to press—he, of all people, understood what it meant to keep struggles to yourself. "If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me."

She let out a soft breath, her fingers tightening around the book's spine for a moment before relaxing. "Thanks, Remus."

He smiled and stood to leave, but as he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that, much like himself, Lily was carrying something she wasn't ready to share.

Later that day, as Remus made his way through the crowded corridor outside the Great Hall, he felt an unexpected shove against the back of his leg. Already limping, he stumbled forward, barely catching himself before he hit the ground.

Laughter erupted behind him.

"Careful there, Lupin," drawled Lucius Malfoy, his smug smirk unmistakable. "Didn't see you struggling to stay on your feet."

James and Sirius were at his side instantly, their wands half-raised. "What's your problem, Malfoy?" James snapped, stepping forward.

Sirius scoffed. "Kicking someone while they're already down? How brave of you."

Peter, who had been lingering near the side, moved closer as well, his expression unreadable but tense.

Malfoy simply smirked, glancing between them. "Didn't think Gryffindors were in the habit of carrying dead weight. It must be exhausting, always covering for Lupin. Or maybe you just like dragging around a pathetic cripple?"

He sneered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Honestly, Lupin, what's the point of even trying? You stumble around like a useless piece of shit, and your friends have to pick up the slack. Maybe they keep you around for pity, but everyone else knows you're a liability."

James stepped forward, his face thunderous. "Keep talking, Malfoy. See what happens."

Malfoy grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, come on, Potter. We all see it. Lupin's a burden, and you lot are too soft to admit it."

Sirius let out a sharp laugh, though his eyes were dark with fury. "That's rich, coming from a Malfoy. Funny how brave you get when you have goons standing behind you."

Remus, breathing heavily, straightened up. His body ached, but the humiliation burned hotter than any of his wounds. Without a second thought, he clenched his fist and swung.

His knuckles collided hard against Malfoy's jaw, and the Slytherin crumpled instantly, hitting the stone floor with an unceremonious thud.

The corridor went silent.

Malfoy groaned, clutching his face, his usual arrogance wiped clean.

James let out a low whistle. "Bloody hell, Remus."

Sirius clapped him on the back, grinning. "That. Was. Beautiful!"

Peter, wide-eyed, looked between Remus and Malfoy before breaking into a slow smirk. "Didn't know you had that in you."

Remus flexed his fingers, shaking off the sting, and exhaled. "Neither did I."

A sudden murmur spread through the gathered students, and a few began to snicker at Malfoy's prone form. Just as a professor's voice rang out in the distance, James grabbed Remus' sleeve and tugged. "Come on, before we get landed in detention."

The four of them rushed down the hall, laughter bubbling between them. Remus felt something other than exhaustion weighing on him for the first time in days.

…

The days that followed felt heavier than usual. Remus had always known he wasn't the strongest among his friends—not in the way James was fearless or Sirius was untouchable—but lately, he felt like a threadbare version of himself, unravelling with each passing moment.

His body still ached, but worse than that was the nagging awareness of Peter's eyes on him. It was different from James' and Sirius' casual concern. They worried about him, but they never questioned him too much. Peter, however, noticed things—small details that Remus wished he could keep hidden.

At breakfast, Peter sat across from him, pretending to pick at his food, but Remus saw the way his gaze flicked down to the edge of his sleeve when he adjusted it over his wrist. The faint remnants of scratches lingered there.

"Did Pomfrey give you anything for that?" Peter asked suddenly, too casual.

Remus nearly dropped his fork. He forced himself to chew slowly before answering. "For what?"

Peter shrugged. "The bruises. You still look rough."

James, who had been talking to Sirius, suddenly turned toward them. "Yeah, Rem, you sure you're alright?"

Remus shot Peter a quick look—one that he hoped screamed drop it—before shaking his head. "I told you, just sick."

Peter didn't say anything else, but the look he gave him made it clear: he wasn't buying it anymore.

Later, Remus wandered aimlessly through the castle with James' cloak thrown over his head. He knew he should be in bed, but the weight of the day clung to him, suffocating. His mind was too full; with Malfoy's words and Peter's scrutiny, he needed air, needed space to think.

He found himself heading toward the Astronomy Tower, one of the few places where he could be alone. Or so he thought.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed a figure sitting on the stone ledge, staring up at the sky. The moon's soft glow outlined familiar red hair, catching in the wind. Lily.

Remus hesitated. He hadn't expected to find her here, and for a brief moment, he considered turning back. But something about how she sat, shoulders slumped, hands resting loosely in her lap, made him step forward and stuff the cloak into his back pocket.

"You alright?" he asked softly.

Lily didn't turn immediately; she just sighed. "Could ask you the same thing."

Remus moved to sit beside her, careful to keep a bit of distance. "Couldn't sleep," he admitted.

"Me neither," she murmured. A long pause followed before she added, "It's been hard. Everything feels… off lately."

Remus studied her for a moment. "Tell me about it."

She finally turned to him then, her green eyes searching his. "You're hurting, too."

He forced a small smile. "Aren't we all?"

She nodded but didn't look convinced. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the sky. Remus did the same, and for a while, they just sat there in silence, two people lost in their own thoughts but finding comfort in knowing they weren't entirely alone. The only noise was the soft snores coming from the Bowtruckle perched on Remus' shoulder.