Author's Note: If the Dark Lord and the Dark Arts wasn't such a threat, I believed that the Marauders could have had very idyllic boyhoods.

It was the worst-case scenario.

I was placed in the same room as Sirius Black and his messy haired friend, James Potter - both of whom had begun unpacking when the door swung open.

"You'll be staying here, Lupin," the prefect told me and then nodded towards the other two. "Black, Potter. This is Remus Lupin. Where's Pettigrew?"

Black shrugged.

"This is Sirius Black. And over there is James Potter."

Then, the prefect left in a hurry to place other students into their rooms.

Now that introductions were over, the other two were engrossed, once again, in whatever occupied them preceding the interruption. I found that my trunk had already arrived and was nestled underneath the four-poster bed, one of five in the room. One of which was occupied by Sirius Black, who I saw staring at me from the corner of my eye. What was his problem? I thought.

Exhausted from the anxieties of being exposed, I laid face first the bed, melting into the mattress.

"Do you play Quidditch, Lupin?" James asked.

"James, was it?" I asked, looking up. James nodded. "I don't play, but I'm afraid I'll be too busy playing catch up for Quidditch."

For the first month at Hogwarts, I struggled to keep up with the fifth years and with the additional classes, had no time to fret about Sirius Black exposing me for what I was, but it was at the back of my mind when I saw him. So, I dodged him any chance I could and instead spent countless hours in the library. Surrounded by towers of shelves lined with books, underneath the candlelit chandeliers, I scratched out my essays with quill and ink on parchment paper.

Potions was a particular weakness of mine. Unable to distinguish between various roots and leaves, I concocted near misses most of the time, short of an accident.

My strength lay in Defense Against the Dark Arts, enjoying the lessons on incantations for defense, how to recognize dark creatures, and occasionally dueling. If there was one thing my father taught me, especially with his trade at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, it was how to recognize dark creatures and dark practices.

But while I strived to avoid my roommates, particularly a Black heir, Sirius made his presence known whenever he could. While I was hunched over one evening by the Common Room's fireplace, searching for the answer to a Charms essay in the assigned readings, I felt a shadow over me. Sirius Black was leaning against the armrest while looking over my shoulders.

"You should be reading up on the Skurge Charm," Black grinned, his handsome face looking more attractive now.

"I didn't ask for your help," I wanted to say. Instead, I muttered a thank you, trying not to engage with him more than I needed to or anger him, lest he decided then to expose my lycanthropy.

Our interactions continued like that, if not punctuated mostly by long silences and tension, with him offering me unsolicited tips now and then for homework.

By October, the leaves had begun to take on a dark orange hue, and the floating candles had been replaced by levitating Jack O' Lanterns. The chill of the season had me wishing I had worn muggle sweaters underneath the robes this morning or at least a warmer robe.

It was made chillier by Professor Binns gliding through a line of students on his way towards the front of the class to begin lecturing on magical history. History of Magic was one of the classes I took with other fifth years, having read innumerable textbooks in anticipation of my time at Hogwarts.

With the exception of House-based seating, there were no assigned seats. Yet somehow that day, I found myself sitting beside my roommates. The lesson that day was on the Goblin Rebellion of 1752, which led to the resignation of Minister for Magic Albert Boot, followed by his successor Basil Flack when the werewolves had joined the uprising. I stiffened when werewolves were mentioned, unconsciously glancing at Sirius Black, who grinned my way.

At the end of class, I hastily gathered my scrolls and left for the next lesson.

"Did you like the lesson, Remus?" Sirius stretched in his seat. "A bit boring. Don't you think?"

"No," I said, standing up. "I quite liked it."

Classes continued long after sundown. After which, I headed to the Dining Hall for a quick dinner and then straight to the library to finish readings and more assignments. When, at last, I had completed my homework, I returned to the dormitories, drained, and was ready to settle down for the night when Sirius's voice woke me out of my trance.

"We've never talked about St. Mungos," Sirius said bluntly, noticing the scars on my body as I was disrobing. Usually I changed in the showers, but today, I was far too tired to shower, leaving it for tomorrow morning.

"You know my secret," I said matter of factly, almost like a dare, fed up with the fear of being exposed as a werewolf. "My affliction."

I wanted to tell him then about the origins of my lycanthropy, that I was only five when I was bitten by Fenrir Greyback, angered my father Lyall's comments on werewolf kind. Before me, to my father, lycanthropes were "soulless, evil, deserving nothing but death." I wanted him to know that I was not always a monster, only possessed by a dark creature every full moon.

Sirius's eyes softened. "It's none of my business."

Since that day, Sirius Black kept his distance.

It was November before long. I was still struggling to keep up with the long lists of assignments, but I fell into a sort of rhythm by then. At least an essay due every week and an unmentionable number of readings. Unfortunately, with the weather growing increasingly colder, I found myself holed up in the dormitory I shared with Sirius Black, his friend James, and a skittish Peter Pettigrew. Sirius was almost indifferent to me then. But every month when I disappeared to meet Madam Pomfrey, I could feel Sirius's eyes linger on me.

Towards the end of February, after Sirius had managed to dodge chocolates laced with love potions, he confronted me about my affliction. He said he had known since November, suspected it when I had gone missing every full moon. I, thinking he had known all along, grew increasingly confused.

"Why were you always around me then?"