Remus had assumed that, since his emotions had been perfectly logical, that his small panic session outside Dumbledore's office the previous day had not been caused by the potions.

But here Remus was, sitting on his bed and pulling his socks on before breakfast, and he felt fine. Perhaps those potions really had caused a mood swing. Remus was perfectly, excellently, okay. He felt prepared to deal with anything and anyone today—which was good, because he happened to have double Defense Against the Dark Arts first.

"Ready to go to breakfast, Moony?" asked James, who had been ready for ages.

Remus finished putting on his socks. "Gimme a second. I have to take the potions."

He grabbed the three bottles and dashed into the lavatory, where he poured the first one and prepared to drink it all in one sip (because it was utterly disgusting)… and then he stopped. "PRONGS!" he shouted. "I KNOW THIS WAS YOU!"

His friends' laughter emerged from behind the door, and Remus set the cup down and opened the door. "You can't pull that on me," he said. "What have you done with the potion? This is pumpkin juice mixed with mud!"

"It was the same color," said Peter, and he was laughing so hysterically that he could hardly get the words out. "We did it last night while you were sleeping."

"How did you reach over me to the windowsill and get the potions without waking me?"

"You were sleeping very deeply," said James. He was practically holding Sirius up, who was laughing so hard that he could hardly stand.

"It's not that funny," said Remus. "It doesn't even make sense. Why would you do that?"

"Because you looked like you needed cheering up," said Peter simply. "The real potion is somewhere in this room. Can you find it?"

Remus frowned, but he couldn't quite stop the corner of his mouth from twitching up slightly. It was such a James-Peter-Sirius thing to do, making Remus marginally angry to forget about his sadness. They were giving him a puzzle that they knew he could solve to bring up his confidence, and Remus appreciated it very much.

He humored them by wandering around the room a little bit, lifting pillows and blankets, but he stopped after about five minutes. "Okay," he said, "It's in Sirius' pocket."

"You knew the whole time, didn't you," said Sirius, pulling it out and tossing it to Remus. "All right, hurry up and take it. We have to go to breakfast."

Remus smiled and went back into the lavatory, where he took all three potions. This time, the familiar twinge that usually accompanied taking the potions—the twinge that felt like defeat; like losing—wasn't there.

And one day, when his friends were Animagi, he wouldn't even need the potions, probably.

Manard kept Remus after class, as he so often did. He really needed to stop, Remus thought—his friends were bound to get even more suspicious if this continued.

"So," Manard said, steepling his fingers under his chin, "I hear you're taking some daily potions now."

"Why does everyone know?" mumbled Remus under his breath.

He smiled. "Poppy was trying to get me to start taking one, too. Using you as a 'good example', I suppose."

"Why don't you take one, Professor?"

"Well, it is helping?"

"Not yet, but Madam Pomfrey says that it takes about a week for noticeable physical effects to take place."

"Exactly. It's not going to work—trust me; I've tried plenty. Well, that said, I didn't exactly ever make it through a week, but…"

Remus shook his head, exasperated. "How do you know, then? And why stop after less than a week? It's not as if it was hurting you."

Manard's eyes widened momentarily, and then he sucked in a breath and gave Remus a look that dripped with false sympathy. "She didn't tell you, did she?"

"Tell me what?"

"Well…" Manard leaned forward. "Well, Remus, I hate to break it to you… but this is all you get."

"What do you mean?"

"You can't take normal Pain-Relieving Potion while you're taking the smaller dose daily. That potion's going to help marginally for the long-term, but after a full moon? You're going to regret it."

Remus frowned. It was possible, of course, to withstand the pain of a full moon's aftermath without a potion. Remus had done so many times himself when the Lupins had been running short on finances. But now that he'd been pampered with Pain-Relieving Potions after every full moon and then some days besides, Remus hadn't had to undergo a potion-free full moon for years. He would have much rather Madam Pomfrey weaned him off with smaller doses instead of forcing him to go nearly cold turkey—and he felt sure that she would have brought up the stipulation before.

"I don't think that's true," he said slowly. "I think Madam Pomfrey would have told me."

"And risk your refusal? Oh, no, Remus. She cares about you far too much. She knew you would die sooner without the potions, so she tactically forgot to mention it."

"That doesn't make sense. She knows full well I'm not afraid of pain." Remus shrugged. "Maybe that's why she didn't tell me, actually. It wouldn't have changed anything. I didn't need to be told."

"Don't lie to yourself. You're terrified of pain, and you're hurt that she didn't tell you."

Remus was becoming a tad peeved now: partially because he really was hurt that Madam Pomfrey hadn't mentioned it, partially because he really did not want to undergo a full moon without the Pain-Relieving Potion, and partially because Manard was being incredibly annoying.

"Do you know what I think, Professor?" he said, fully aware that he was possibly making things harder for himself, but to be quite honest, he did not care. "I think that you just don't want me to take the potions because you know it'll make it harder for me to go off with you to find Greyback. Madam Pomfrey's going to be watching me more closely now, and since I pick up more potions every Saturday, we wouldn't be able to leave on a weekend."

"You sound as if you've considered joining me," said Manard with a smile.

"Only in my nightmares."

Manard leaned forward and touched Remus' hand—Remus withdrew immediately. "Remus," said Manard, "if you stop taking the potions right now, you won't go through much of a withdrawal period at all. I beg you to reconsider. Greyback is out there, he has threatened you, and you are putting your loved ones' lives at risk by refusing to stop him. You are running out of time: mark my words."

"Don't you think I know that?" cried Remus. "I know that, Professor! I know! I'm just… waiting. He'll send me another message if he really wants to see me. I've done my part. It's his turn."

"Do you really think Fenrir Greyback cares about what is logical or fair?"

"I absolutely do. His life's work is all about evening the score, in his eyes."

"You're playing with fire," said Manard loudly. He was raising his voice considerably, and Remus was fighting the urge to flinch at his every word. "You are playing with fire, Remus Lupin. You know the Hogwarts motto! 'Draco Dormiens Numquam Titillandus': don't tickle a sleeping dragon! You are taking an unnecessary and dangerous risk!"

"It's risky either way!"

"But one way is only risky to you, and one way is risky to your friends and family! You stubborn, selfish werewolf! It only matters if it poses a danger to you, is that right? You have no morals—only survival instinct!"

Remus' friends' Animagus attempts popped up in his mind, and he felt ill. "That's not true," he said fiercely. "I am in an impossible situation, and…"

"And you're choosing the stupid way out."

"I'm not going out into the woods when Greyback didn't even try to find me at the last location he told me to meet him at! If I thought he was really looking for me, I'd be in the woods with you right now. But I don't. Either he's lost interest, or he had the wrong person all along."

"Wishful thinking."

"Logical thinking! Besides, Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain, and my father has used protective enchantments on the house every night since the attack. My friends and family will be fine."

"That's what I thought before he killed my wife!" Manard bellowed.

"Your protective enchantments weren't very good, then! And furthermore—"

"Crucio!" cried Manard, and the room shifted into a haze of blurred colors.

The pain was all-consuming, and Remus' thoughts were fragmented, swirling in a chaotic tempest of pain on top of pain. Time was distorted, minutes felt like hours, seconds felt like days, and he just wanted to die wantedtodie wanted-to-die… and he gritted his teeth so violently he heard them squeak, but he did not care and barely noticed, for the pain was causing his every nerve to scream, and it was so much worse than a full moon, and he could not think, could not breathe, could not possibly survive another second…

Gradually, the intensity of the curse began to wane, like the moon retreating after a transformation, but so much worse. Remus was suddenly aware of the floor beneath his back, and then his hands and feet, and then his own throat, scratched and raw.

"Please stop," he whispered.

"I stopped a long time ago," said Manard, but Remus barely registered his voice through the spinning of the room and the ocean in his ears. "Sit up."

Remus didn't. He couldn't.

Footsteps. The cane. Clack. Clack. Clack. Suddenly, Manard was crouching beside Remus, and Remus could see his blurry face.

"You've forgotten your respect," said Manard. He'd been out of his mind with rage only a few moments (days?) ago, but now he was cool, calm, collected, and calculated once again. "You really don't want to make me angry, Remus Lupin. Please remember that I could divulge your secret to the world at any time."

"Please," whimpered Remus. "I just want to be left alone."

Remus had forgotten that he wasn't playing a game. The Boggart he'd shouted at, the concentration on his own mental state and his own nobility, the determination to be brave in the face of Manard, the resolve not to let the curse (or Manard) defeat him… it all seemed so fruitless now. He'd been treating it like a game, like a challenge, and it was none of those things.

It wasn't a mere battle of wits. It wasn't about resolve. It wasn't even Manard vs. Remus, not really—because Manard and Remus were not evenly matched, nor had they ever been. It was bullying, plain and simple. It was terrorism. Remus could not win, and he'd never had a chance. Being brave would not help.

The aftershocks of the curse were still roiling his stomach and causing electric shivers to travel up his nerves and his spine. Remus tried to sit up, and immediately vomited.

Manard Vanished it without any sort of hesitation, like he'd been expecting it. That made sense, because the taste in Remus' mouth told him that he'd already done it at least once whilst convulsing on the floor.

"I was a tad overenthusiastic with that curse," Manard said. "I don't usually cast them with that much emotion. I don't think you deserved that, actually, but I'm not too bothered."

Remus grabbed the leg of a chair to steady himself. "Please," he whispered again. "I don't want any part of this. I'm only fourteen. I'm nothing special. I just want to be left alone."

Manard leaned closer. He was less blurry now that Remus' eyes were adjusting, and Remus saw his expression shift to one of slight pleasure, as of a spider having just caught a fly. "Help me find Greyback," he said, "and I will leave you alone. I promise."

He left the room—clack, clack—and Remus fell back to the floor, where he spent another twenty minutes recovering before drunkenly standing and making his way back to his dormitory, where he slept for an hour and a half.

The nightmares were awful, but Remus found that no nightmare at the moment could quite measure up to real life.

Remus' fingers were broken.

His right index and middle, and his left thumb. The Cruciatus Curse hadn't exactly been "taking it easy" like Madam Pomfrey had instructed him sometime before he'd left the Hospital Wing. The daily potions would likely start working (at least a little), but right now, Remus still had fairly weak bones, and he'd been scratching at his skin and clenching his hands quite severely during the curse. As a result, there were thin cuts on his forearms, his fingers were broken, and he still had a headache.

Remus rubbed some silver and Dittany onto his forearms and contemplated fixing his own bones instead of going to Madam Pomfrey like she had instructed. But no, he didn't want to risk that—and besides, he had a question for Madam Pomfrey, anyway. There was nothing suspicious about breaking fingers. Remus did a lot with his hands.

He showed up to the Hospital Wing and knocked twice on the door (with his left index and middle fingers, which were blessedly unbroken), and just like usual, Madam Pomfrey opened the door immediately. "I recognize that hesitant knock," she said briskly. "In, in. What's wrong this time?"

Remus sat on a bed. Blessedly, the Hospital Wing appeared to be empty this time. "My fingers," he said.

She took his hands in hers and frowned. "How long have these been broken?"

"I think since this morning after my first class. I had a nasty fall."

"Yes, your friends did come here asking about you. They said you disappeared and didn't go to your next class."

"Yeah, erm… yeah. I was just annoyed that the potions weren't working or something. I've been rather emotionally turbulent lately."

"Yes, mood swings. I did expect those." Madam Pomfrey healed his fingers nonverbally, and relief flooded throughout Remus' body. "I want you to come here directly next time. I'd much rather you sulk in here than in your dormitory when you have three broken fingers."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."

Here it was: the pause in the conversation that signified the perfect time to ask the question. "You know," said Remus, "I was thinking."

"Thinking about what?" She was looking at his forearms now, frowning even more deeply. "You've put silver and Dittany on these."

"Yes. I scratched myself when I fell."

"And you broke your fingers, too? How could you have possibly done both in one fall?"

"Madam Pomfrey, you're changing the subject."

"Healing you is my job," she huffed. "But I'm sorry. Go on—what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking… well, I'm not exactly sure how that new Pain-Relieving Potion that I'm taking is supposed to work, but… does it mean I can't take Pain-Relieving Potion after the full moon? Will I have to go without so that I don't take too much?"

She'd been inspecting his forearms scrutinizingly, but now she paused (thank goodness). "No," she said firmly. "The new potion is made from different materials. I looked long and hard for one that wouldn't impede your current medication. Next full moon, your Pain-Relieving Potion will need to be watered down a bit, but it shouldn't make too much of a difference. This new potion, in fact, should make your recovery better, not worse."

Remus nodded. "Why doesn't Professor Manard take one, then?" he blurted, not even considering the consequences.

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows. "Did you talk to him about this?"

"A… a little. He just asked me how it was going. I asked him why he wasn't taking one, and that was the reason he gave."

"Oh. Yes, I've been trying to give him this one—it's brand-new, so he won't have tried it before. He refuses. Says it won't help. Between you and me, Remus, I think his pain is very psychosomatic."

"What does that mean?"

"It's caused by psychological trauma more so than physical injury. That doesn't mean the pain is any less real, but it does mean that some pain-relieving methods won't work. Pain-Relieving Potion has a slight calming agent, so which is probably why it's the only thing that helps him." Seemingly, Madam Pomfrey recognized her mistake, and her eyes grew wide. "A slight calming agent," she repeated urgently. "Slight. It's slight, Remus. Not nearly enough to constitute as a mind-altering medication, you hear me?"

Remus laughed. "Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I'm not about to start refusing Pain-Relieving Potions."

"Good," said Madam Pomfrey. "You'd be miserable."

"I know. Why doesn't Professor Manard take Calming Draughts?"

"He won't take them. When I tried to convince him, he seemed quite convinced that the pain wasn't psychological."

"Oh."

Madam Pomfrey sighed and handed Remus a glass of water. "Anyway," she said, "I've done all I can do. Thank you for coming here, but do be more prompt next time. Stay hydrated."

"I know the drill." Remus downed the water in a couple of sips and then looked at the clock. "I can probably make my last class of the day," he said. "That's all right with you, isn't it?"

"That's all right with me," Madam Pomfrey confirmed. "Oh, and one more thing. I give your professors a short write-up after every full moon, and…"

"You do?" Remus put the glass down, alarmed. He hadn't know this at all.

"It doesn't have many details: just the amount of time I expect you to be in the Hospital Wing, your ability to focus and do homework, and some other miscellaneous things about how well I expect you to be functioning upon returning."

"But…"

"They need to know in order to accommodate you, Remus."

"They don't need to! I can get all the work done!"

"You very frequently don't. Besides, they need to know which days you're excused so that they can be sure you're not skiving. They need to know what days they shouldn't schedule tests, and they need to know if you'll be up for a strenuous practical activity in the days following the full moon."

"They don't need to know all that!"

"But they want to, Remus. They want to accommodate you as best they can, and I want to make sure you're not stressing yourself half to death about making up assignments and all that nonsense when you still need rest."

Remus huffed a bit and crossed his arms over his chest, but he understood. He didn't really care—he knew the professors already discussed him at length at each staff meeting, and he wanted Madam Pomfrey to do whatever made her job easier.

"Anyway," said Madam Pomfrey, "I'd like to give them a write-up right now explaining the expected side effects of the potions you're on, but that's more information than what I feel is absolutely necessary, and I don't want to impede upon your privacy. How would you feel about that, Remus?"

"Erm…"

"I wouldn't mention much at all—just that you're on a new medication and expected side effects include fatigue and discomfort. You'll have more excused absences for the next month or so while you're still adjusting, and you can get extensions on assignments if you need to."

"Why are you even asking me for permission? It seems like much of the same things you tell them after a full moon."

"Because you're getting older, and I believe you deserve more control over your privacy. Do you agree?"

Remus looked at the ceiling, and then he nodded. "Yeah, thanks. You can tell them. I appreciate your asking."

"Of course. Now hurry to class, and…"

"Don't overexert myself," said Remus with a smile. "Yes, I promise I'm trying."

"Not hard enough, evidently!" Madam Pomfrey shouted as Remus accidentally knocked his knee against a bed while hurrying out of the Wing.

"Nothing's broken!" Remus called, already halfway down the corridor on his way to Potions.

AN: Merry Christmas!