HP - Moony Truths: One; It's Always The Quiet Ones
Title: It's Always The Quiet Ones
Rating: All ages
Characters: The Marauders
Genre: General
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2985
Summary: "Third Year has hardly begun when Sirius begins to realise that there is something odd about Remus. He is often gone, and although his tired eyes and sagging shoulders seem proof enough of his frequent claims of being ill, Sirius knows somehow that it isn’t the whole truth."
Author's Note: Part one of What Needs Must Hide.
Also: By a complete coincidence, I actually got the dates here entirely correct. According to this calendar, the full moon in December '73, when this takes places, was on Monday the 10th, and therefore the following Tuesday was the 18th. How crazy is that?
Always The Quiet Ones
There has always, Sirius thinks, been something quiet about Remus. At first Sirius thought it was simply his careful speech, as though he is afraid to speak to loudly for rear of drawing attention to himself. Or perhaps it was in his movements, often too stiff and only rarely at ease. Or maybe the wealth of expressions that Remus's face contorts itself into, silently voicing his disapproval or his concern over the antics of his more animate friends.
But it is more than that, Sirius realises. It is a deeper quiet, the kind that comes after a storm in the night; it isn't seen, it isn't heard, but when you wake up you can tell the difference.
Third Year has hardly begun when Sirius begins to realise that there is something odd about Remus. He is often gone, and although his tired eyes and sagging shoulders seem proof enough of his frequent claims of being ill, Sirius knows somehow that it isn't the whole truth. He remembers Remus telling them once that his mother was sick and his father had needed him at home, and twice that he had detentions which he failed to mention for fear of James and Sirius dropping in unexpectedly and getting them all in trouble.
James seems to accept these excuses, and Peter follows James's example, but still Sirius cannot shake the feeling that Remus is hiding something. So the next time Remus edges out of the common room looking thin and grey and certainly quite ill, Sirius decides to follow him.
Remus makes his way through the corridors, heading toward the hospital wing and Sirius, following silently behind, wonders for a minute if he hasn't just been imagining things. But when Remus reaches the infirmary, he doesn't wait on one of the beds like Sirius expects; instead he knocks on Madam Pomfrey's office door. She opens the door to look carefully at Remus.
"Ready to go then, Mr Lupin?" she says. Remus only nods.
Sirius, watching carefully from his hiding place behind the infirmary doors, stares at them in confusion before hurriedly scrambling back into the shadows as Madam Pomfrey walks out of the hospital wing with Remus only a step behind.
Sirius remains where he is until their footsteps have faded down the corridor. He gets to his feet, feeling unsettled and confused. For a moment he thinks about following them but realises that while Remus might not notice that he is being followed, Madam Pomfrey has the eyes of a hawk and would surely see him. So Sirius turns away and heads back up the corridor and back to Gryffindor Tower.
He rounds the corner, eyes fixed on the stone floor beneath him, and nearly walks right into a large something in purple and silver spangled robes. Sirius looks up and up and up and sees a pair of bright blue eyes.
"Good evening, Mr Black," Dumbledore says. "It is awfully late to be out of Gryffindor Tower, is it not?" Moonlight glints off the rims of his glasses and Sirius realises, belatedly, that it is probably after curfew. Dumbledore is speaking again.
"Lovely evening for a stroll, isn't it, Mr Black? A pity the weather is falling in." The headmaster surveys him cheerfully from over the tops of his glasses.
Sirius swallows. "Actually, sir, I was-that is-Remus seemed ill at dinner, and I thought-well he said he was going to the hospital wing, I wanted to check on him, you know…" Sirius shrugs up at the headmaster, wondering if Dumbledore will be angry at him.
"Ah yes," Dumbledore says, nodding. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey tell me he has been feeling less than his best lately." Sirius nods. Dumbledore continues, "I am afraid you won't be able to see Mr Lupin tonight. Madam Pomfrey is rather strict about visiting hours for students, but you may certainly come see him in the morning if he is not feeling better by breakfast." Dumbledore smiles and Sirius sighs.
"Yes sir," he says. "After breakfast." He nods.
Dumbledore smiles again and gestures down the corridor. "Now, off to bed. After all," he says, "The sooner you get to sleep, the sooner you can wake up in the morning."
And with that he sweeps off down the other end of the corridor, humming quietly to himself and leaving Sirius staring after him.
"Where've you been?"
James and Peter are seated by the fire in the common room, building a card house with James's Exploding Snap deck. Sirius throws himself into an armchair beside them, feeling anxious and confused. Next to him, Peter places the last card on the top of the card house, causing the whole thing to explode.
When the smoke clears a moment later, he turns again to Sirius. "Do you know where Remus has gone to? I wanted him to look over my Potions essay."
"He's in the hospital wing," James says, scooping up the singed cards from the table. "He said he wasn't feeling well."
"No, he isn't." Sirius frowns at the fire. "He's lying." James and Peter stare at him, confused, and Sirius tells them about following Remus. "And then I ran into Dumbledore, and he told me to go to bed and we could come see Remus in the morning, except that Remus isn't there so I don't know what he meant." Sirius sighs huffily.
James adjusts his glasses, frowning in the way the means he's just spotted a problem and is annoyed that he hasn't seen it earlier. "Remus did look ill," he says, but he sounds doubtful.
Peter nods. "He definitely looked bad," he agrees, "But if he's sick, why wouldn't Pomfrey keep him in the hospital wing?"
Sirius thumps his fist on the arm of the chair. "I don't know!" he says, frustrated. "It doesn't make sense!"
"No," says James. "It doesn't." He looks at the other two, hazel eyes troubled. "So maybe we should do some digging ourselves. I mean," he says, a determined glint in his eyes, "Remus is our friend, and if something's wrong, we've got to try to help him."
They watch Remus carefully when they go down to the hospital wing the next morning to find him sitting in one of the beds, a breakfast tray balanced on his knees. There are dark shadows underneath his eyes as though he hasn't slept, and the knuckles on his right hand are red and scraped. He waves to them though, and smiles, though it is tired. "Hallo," he says, waving, and Sirius can see a bandage wrapped around his left wrist, peeking out from beneath his sleeve.
"Feeling better, then?" James says lightly.
"A bit," Remus says, "Although I could use a good night's sleep.." He shrugs.
"Bad night?" Peter asks. "Me too," he adds when Remus just nods wearily.
Sirius frowns at him. "You sure you're alright, then?" he asks, and tries not to look too suspicious when Remus eyes him carefully.
"I'm alright, Sirius, really," he says, "I'm just tired, that's all."
And Sirius has to be content with that.
The following week is spent looking through Remus's things while he is busy.
Peter goes through the drawer of Remus's nightstand while he is in the bathroom. There is a book of Muggle poetry which Peter remembers Remus reading the night before. There is also a small shoebox half-filled with photographs and notes, which Peter rifles through, pausing every now and then to chuckle when a photo reminds him of a particularly memorable moment. He finds a very interesting deck of cards decorated with moving illustrations of all kinds of horrible Dark creatures, and spares a moment to marvel at Remus owning such a violent deck of cards. But cards aren't important to finding out what's wrong with Remus, even if they do have some bloody brilliant pictures on them.
James searches through his school bag during break while Remus is busy losing to Sirius at chess. He sifts through Remus's odd collection of Muggle pens and crumpled, ink-stained quills, and essays, endless essays, all covered in Remus's tidy writing. He finds a lunar chart that Remus must have filled out for Astronomy, but which James knows was not required work. Extra credit, James thinks, baffled, and shakes his head. Madness… But while homework might cause other students' deaths, Remus seems to flourish as long as he has work to do, so James is forced to conclude that there is nothing in Remus's bag which might explain his frequent absences.
Sirius dumps out the entire, neatly-folded contents of Remus's trunk while James and Peter keep him distracted with homework in the library. He knows that Remus likes to keep his trunk locked, so Sirius concludes that if Remus has anything to hide, it will be in here. But half-an-hour's search yields nothing but a pile of sweaters, all worn at the elbows or the wrists and a number of Muggle classics, their bindings all looking as though they've been repaired several times. Sirius is disappointed; he was expecting hidden compartments in unexpected places, but the only unexpected thing he's found is a small pamphlet about the Whomping Willow, which he barely glances at before tossing it back in the bottom of the trunk where he found it. He dumps Remus's things back inside all in a jumble, an excuse about needing to borrow a shirt already on his lips for when Remus notices the disarray.
Three weeks of digging later and Sirius is getting very, very frustrated. Remus is gone again, this time in detention with Filch for having apparently melted away part of the stone floor of the dungeons when his latest disastrous potion liquefied his cauldron in class the day before. But Sirius knows he isn't in detention with Filch because Sirius himself has just run into the old toad while coming back from a run to the kitchens for an evening snack. But while he knows where Remus isn't, he is none the closer to figuring out where he is.
"What's today?" Peter asks suddenly. He and Sirius are sitting in the common room, waiting for James, who is currently in detention, and avoiding Remus, who is currently in a far-off corner of the library looking for a book to help him write the Charms essay which is due on Monday and which the others haven't touched yet.
"It's Tuesday," Sirius says, blinking at Peter.
"No, I meant, what's the date?" Peter says, a bit more quietly this time.
"Er, it's the eighteenth," Sirius says, still looking blankly at Peter. "Why?"
Peter frowns. "Remus was sick again last week, right? Monday night?" Sirius nods, wondering where Peter is going with this. The other boy continues, speaking slowly as though thinking carefully over everything he says. "And he was sick last month, too. Around the tenth, wouldn't you say?"
Sirius frowns, thinking hard. Yes, Remus was sick a month ago. The tenth? He thinks hard. Yes, that seems about right. "I guess?" he says. He closes his eyes, trying to remember all the details he can think of about Remus's absences. "And in October," he says finally. "Remember?"
Peter nods thoughtfully. "And last Monday was the tenth, too, right? So he's sick once a month, at the same time each month." He frowns, tapping his fingers together in a way Sirius recognises as What Peter Does When Peter Is Trying To Figure Something Out.
Sirius is just as puzzled. He knows that this is important; it's the most useful things they've managed to come up with in weeks. And more than that, it seems familiar somehow, though he can't think why. Something he heard in class, maybe? He stares out the window, watching the clouds scudding across the moon, thinking hard.
Wait. The moon.
Sirius sits bolt upright, eyes wide. "No," he whispers, more to himself than to Peter. "No way-but of course-it's so simple-" He turn to look at Peter, who is staring at him in confusion.
"What's simple?" Peter asks.
Sirius points to the window. "The moon, Pete. The moon." Peter looks at the window and back at Sirius, nonplussed. Sirius makes a frustrated noise.
"Look," he says, "The moon was full last week. And a month before that. And before that…" He trails off, staring at Peter, willing him to get it. For a moment Peter just looks blank, And Sirius thinks he's actually going to have to explain the whole thing, but then he sees the comprehension blooming in Peter's face.
"Ohhhhh…" he says, clapping a hand to his forehead. "Why didn't we see that sooner?" he says, staring out the window at the moon; one side is slightly squished, but it is clear to see that it isn't far from full.
Sirius feels giddy. He's figured it out; he's figured out the secret. "Now it makes sense!" he says, drumming his fingers on the table in jittery excitement. "Why he's always tired, and-and the bruises, and the cuts-and, and-" Sirius can hardly sit still. His brain is working at lightning speed. Suddenly he is adding up all the little pieces of the puzzle that is Remus. He's found two and two and come up with four.
"And he never changes in front of us," Peter adds, catching Sirius's rapid-fire understanding. "If his hands are that bad, maybe he's that bad all over," Peter mutters, still watching out the window. "And he's always been so good in Astronomy-I mean, he'd have to be-"
Sirius stands suddenly, unable to sit still. "I can't believe it," he breathes out, running a hand through his hair. "I can't bloody believe it!"
Peter shakes his head in disbelief. "Remus Lupin," he says quietly, "Is a bloody werewolf." Peter stares at Sirius, who stares back, at a loss for words. And then they are laughing, and laughing, and it is too impossible to believe.
Sirius stops laughing first, and he sits down again, eyes anxious. "Shit," he mutters, "No wonder he's always making up excuses."
Across from him, Peter has also stopped laughing and is now looking rather worried. "Should we tell him? That we know, I mean."
Sirius chews on his thumbnail, thinking. "I don't know," he says after a minute. "I mean, he's bound to be pissed, isn't he?"
"Who'll be pissed?"
Sirius jumps; he hadn't heard James approach. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Peter let out a deep breath; apparently, he didn't hear him either.
"Shit, James, you nearly gave me a heart attack," Sirius says.
"What's going on?" James frowns. "You're both looking rather serious. What's happened?"
Sirius glances at Peter, then looks back at James. "Here's the thing," he says, gesturing for James to sit down. "We've figured it out. About Remus," he adds when James looks confused.
"You have? Brilliant!" James looks between the other two. "Go on, what is it?" he asks, leaning forward.
Sirius takes a deep breath. "You're not going to believe this…"
Fifteen minutes later, James eyeballs seem about to pop out of his head. He is slouched in his chair, eyes unfocused, and Sirius can almost see his brain working, connecting all the dots. "It all fits!" he had said a few minutes before. "How did we miss it?"
They have been silent for some minutes when Sirius comes to a decision.
"We can't tell him. Not yet."
"Why not?" Peter asks.
"Let's wait," Sirius says. "Wait until-next time, I guess. We'll wait up for him. Half the time he comes back to the tower in the morning. We'll wait up for him."
"Good idea," James says. "We'll wait."
There has always been something quiet about Remus. Sirius, laying in bed, watching the moonlight streaming through the windows, listens to the sound of Remus's soft breathing from the next bed. Yes, he has always been quiet, from the moment Sirius met him, their first night at Hogwarts.
At first the thought Remus was just shy, or boring, or too bloody proper for his own good. But he's gotten to know Remus since then; he knows Remus has a wicked streak which has been of help in enacting many a great prank; he knows Remus can only be practical for so long when he is with them before he throws practicality to the side in favour of wild spontaneity; he knows Remus is possessed of innumerable little quirks and habits, and that he could probably spend years trying to discover them all and he wouldn't be bored.
And now Sirius knows that if Remus has ever seemed shy, it is because he is afraid of getting close enough to someone that they might discover exactly what Sirius has now found out. He speaks quietly and politely and tries very hard to stay unnoticed, even by his friends. Sirius wonders if Remus has designed himself on purpose, the books and sweaters and impeccable manners, because it is as far from the animal as possible.
And he wonders, vaguely, why he is not afraid, or angry, or disgusted. Perhaps he has always known that Remus is more than he appears to be, and so he is not as shocked as he feels he should be. Or perhaps he doesn't really believe it yet, and it will not be until he wakes up in the morning that the desire to grab his torch and pitchfork will grab him.
Or perhaps it doesn't really matter, because Sirius knows Remus. They were friends before, and Remus was still a werewolf then, only in secret. And Sirius thinks that as long as Remus is still Remus and he is still Sirius, then they will be friends.
Sirius turns over, burrowing into his blankets, warm against the cold December night, and finally falls asleep, the quiet sigh of Remus's breathing echoing in his ears.
continue/a>
Rating: All ages
Characters: The Marauders
Genre: General
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2985
Summary: "Third Year has hardly begun when Sirius begins to realise that there is something odd about Remus. He is often gone, and although his tired eyes and sagging shoulders seem proof enough of his frequent claims of being ill, Sirius knows somehow that it isn’t the whole truth."
Author's Note: Part one of What Needs Must Hide.
Also: By a complete coincidence, I actually got the dates here entirely correct. According to this calendar, the full moon in December '73, when this takes places, was on Monday the 10th, and therefore the following Tuesday was the 18th. How crazy is that?
Always The Quiet Ones
There has always, Sirius thinks, been something quiet about Remus. At first Sirius thought it was simply his careful speech, as though he is afraid to speak to loudly for rear of drawing attention to himself. Or perhaps it was in his movements, often too stiff and only rarely at ease. Or maybe the wealth of expressions that Remus's face contorts itself into, silently voicing his disapproval or his concern over the antics of his more animate friends.
But it is more than that, Sirius realises. It is a deeper quiet, the kind that comes after a storm in the night; it isn't seen, it isn't heard, but when you wake up you can tell the difference.
Third Year has hardly begun when Sirius begins to realise that there is something odd about Remus. He is often gone, and although his tired eyes and sagging shoulders seem proof enough of his frequent claims of being ill, Sirius knows somehow that it isn't the whole truth. He remembers Remus telling them once that his mother was sick and his father had needed him at home, and twice that he had detentions which he failed to mention for fear of James and Sirius dropping in unexpectedly and getting them all in trouble.
James seems to accept these excuses, and Peter follows James's example, but still Sirius cannot shake the feeling that Remus is hiding something. So the next time Remus edges out of the common room looking thin and grey and certainly quite ill, Sirius decides to follow him.
Remus makes his way through the corridors, heading toward the hospital wing and Sirius, following silently behind, wonders for a minute if he hasn't just been imagining things. But when Remus reaches the infirmary, he doesn't wait on one of the beds like Sirius expects; instead he knocks on Madam Pomfrey's office door. She opens the door to look carefully at Remus.
"Ready to go then, Mr Lupin?" she says. Remus only nods.
Sirius, watching carefully from his hiding place behind the infirmary doors, stares at them in confusion before hurriedly scrambling back into the shadows as Madam Pomfrey walks out of the hospital wing with Remus only a step behind.
Sirius remains where he is until their footsteps have faded down the corridor. He gets to his feet, feeling unsettled and confused. For a moment he thinks about following them but realises that while Remus might not notice that he is being followed, Madam Pomfrey has the eyes of a hawk and would surely see him. So Sirius turns away and heads back up the corridor and back to Gryffindor Tower.
He rounds the corner, eyes fixed on the stone floor beneath him, and nearly walks right into a large something in purple and silver spangled robes. Sirius looks up and up and up and sees a pair of bright blue eyes.
"Good evening, Mr Black," Dumbledore says. "It is awfully late to be out of Gryffindor Tower, is it not?" Moonlight glints off the rims of his glasses and Sirius realises, belatedly, that it is probably after curfew. Dumbledore is speaking again.
"Lovely evening for a stroll, isn't it, Mr Black? A pity the weather is falling in." The headmaster surveys him cheerfully from over the tops of his glasses.
Sirius swallows. "Actually, sir, I was-that is-Remus seemed ill at dinner, and I thought-well he said he was going to the hospital wing, I wanted to check on him, you know…" Sirius shrugs up at the headmaster, wondering if Dumbledore will be angry at him.
"Ah yes," Dumbledore says, nodding. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey tell me he has been feeling less than his best lately." Sirius nods. Dumbledore continues, "I am afraid you won't be able to see Mr Lupin tonight. Madam Pomfrey is rather strict about visiting hours for students, but you may certainly come see him in the morning if he is not feeling better by breakfast." Dumbledore smiles and Sirius sighs.
"Yes sir," he says. "After breakfast." He nods.
Dumbledore smiles again and gestures down the corridor. "Now, off to bed. After all," he says, "The sooner you get to sleep, the sooner you can wake up in the morning."
And with that he sweeps off down the other end of the corridor, humming quietly to himself and leaving Sirius staring after him.
"Where've you been?"
James and Peter are seated by the fire in the common room, building a card house with James's Exploding Snap deck. Sirius throws himself into an armchair beside them, feeling anxious and confused. Next to him, Peter places the last card on the top of the card house, causing the whole thing to explode.
When the smoke clears a moment later, he turns again to Sirius. "Do you know where Remus has gone to? I wanted him to look over my Potions essay."
"He's in the hospital wing," James says, scooping up the singed cards from the table. "He said he wasn't feeling well."
"No, he isn't." Sirius frowns at the fire. "He's lying." James and Peter stare at him, confused, and Sirius tells them about following Remus. "And then I ran into Dumbledore, and he told me to go to bed and we could come see Remus in the morning, except that Remus isn't there so I don't know what he meant." Sirius sighs huffily.
James adjusts his glasses, frowning in the way the means he's just spotted a problem and is annoyed that he hasn't seen it earlier. "Remus did look ill," he says, but he sounds doubtful.
Peter nods. "He definitely looked bad," he agrees, "But if he's sick, why wouldn't Pomfrey keep him in the hospital wing?"
Sirius thumps his fist on the arm of the chair. "I don't know!" he says, frustrated. "It doesn't make sense!"
"No," says James. "It doesn't." He looks at the other two, hazel eyes troubled. "So maybe we should do some digging ourselves. I mean," he says, a determined glint in his eyes, "Remus is our friend, and if something's wrong, we've got to try to help him."
They watch Remus carefully when they go down to the hospital wing the next morning to find him sitting in one of the beds, a breakfast tray balanced on his knees. There are dark shadows underneath his eyes as though he hasn't slept, and the knuckles on his right hand are red and scraped. He waves to them though, and smiles, though it is tired. "Hallo," he says, waving, and Sirius can see a bandage wrapped around his left wrist, peeking out from beneath his sleeve.
"Feeling better, then?" James says lightly.
"A bit," Remus says, "Although I could use a good night's sleep.." He shrugs.
"Bad night?" Peter asks. "Me too," he adds when Remus just nods wearily.
Sirius frowns at him. "You sure you're alright, then?" he asks, and tries not to look too suspicious when Remus eyes him carefully.
"I'm alright, Sirius, really," he says, "I'm just tired, that's all."
And Sirius has to be content with that.
The following week is spent looking through Remus's things while he is busy.
Peter goes through the drawer of Remus's nightstand while he is in the bathroom. There is a book of Muggle poetry which Peter remembers Remus reading the night before. There is also a small shoebox half-filled with photographs and notes, which Peter rifles through, pausing every now and then to chuckle when a photo reminds him of a particularly memorable moment. He finds a very interesting deck of cards decorated with moving illustrations of all kinds of horrible Dark creatures, and spares a moment to marvel at Remus owning such a violent deck of cards. But cards aren't important to finding out what's wrong with Remus, even if they do have some bloody brilliant pictures on them.
James searches through his school bag during break while Remus is busy losing to Sirius at chess. He sifts through Remus's odd collection of Muggle pens and crumpled, ink-stained quills, and essays, endless essays, all covered in Remus's tidy writing. He finds a lunar chart that Remus must have filled out for Astronomy, but which James knows was not required work. Extra credit, James thinks, baffled, and shakes his head. Madness… But while homework might cause other students' deaths, Remus seems to flourish as long as he has work to do, so James is forced to conclude that there is nothing in Remus's bag which might explain his frequent absences.
Sirius dumps out the entire, neatly-folded contents of Remus's trunk while James and Peter keep him distracted with homework in the library. He knows that Remus likes to keep his trunk locked, so Sirius concludes that if Remus has anything to hide, it will be in here. But half-an-hour's search yields nothing but a pile of sweaters, all worn at the elbows or the wrists and a number of Muggle classics, their bindings all looking as though they've been repaired several times. Sirius is disappointed; he was expecting hidden compartments in unexpected places, but the only unexpected thing he's found is a small pamphlet about the Whomping Willow, which he barely glances at before tossing it back in the bottom of the trunk where he found it. He dumps Remus's things back inside all in a jumble, an excuse about needing to borrow a shirt already on his lips for when Remus notices the disarray.
Three weeks of digging later and Sirius is getting very, very frustrated. Remus is gone again, this time in detention with Filch for having apparently melted away part of the stone floor of the dungeons when his latest disastrous potion liquefied his cauldron in class the day before. But Sirius knows he isn't in detention with Filch because Sirius himself has just run into the old toad while coming back from a run to the kitchens for an evening snack. But while he knows where Remus isn't, he is none the closer to figuring out where he is.
"What's today?" Peter asks suddenly. He and Sirius are sitting in the common room, waiting for James, who is currently in detention, and avoiding Remus, who is currently in a far-off corner of the library looking for a book to help him write the Charms essay which is due on Monday and which the others haven't touched yet.
"It's Tuesday," Sirius says, blinking at Peter.
"No, I meant, what's the date?" Peter says, a bit more quietly this time.
"Er, it's the eighteenth," Sirius says, still looking blankly at Peter. "Why?"
Peter frowns. "Remus was sick again last week, right? Monday night?" Sirius nods, wondering where Peter is going with this. The other boy continues, speaking slowly as though thinking carefully over everything he says. "And he was sick last month, too. Around the tenth, wouldn't you say?"
Sirius frowns, thinking hard. Yes, Remus was sick a month ago. The tenth? He thinks hard. Yes, that seems about right. "I guess?" he says. He closes his eyes, trying to remember all the details he can think of about Remus's absences. "And in October," he says finally. "Remember?"
Peter nods thoughtfully. "And last Monday was the tenth, too, right? So he's sick once a month, at the same time each month." He frowns, tapping his fingers together in a way Sirius recognises as What Peter Does When Peter Is Trying To Figure Something Out.
Sirius is just as puzzled. He knows that this is important; it's the most useful things they've managed to come up with in weeks. And more than that, it seems familiar somehow, though he can't think why. Something he heard in class, maybe? He stares out the window, watching the clouds scudding across the moon, thinking hard.
Wait. The moon.
Sirius sits bolt upright, eyes wide. "No," he whispers, more to himself than to Peter. "No way-but of course-it's so simple-" He turn to look at Peter, who is staring at him in confusion.
"What's simple?" Peter asks.
Sirius points to the window. "The moon, Pete. The moon." Peter looks at the window and back at Sirius, nonplussed. Sirius makes a frustrated noise.
"Look," he says, "The moon was full last week. And a month before that. And before that…" He trails off, staring at Peter, willing him to get it. For a moment Peter just looks blank, And Sirius thinks he's actually going to have to explain the whole thing, but then he sees the comprehension blooming in Peter's face.
"Ohhhhh…" he says, clapping a hand to his forehead. "Why didn't we see that sooner?" he says, staring out the window at the moon; one side is slightly squished, but it is clear to see that it isn't far from full.
Sirius feels giddy. He's figured it out; he's figured out the secret. "Now it makes sense!" he says, drumming his fingers on the table in jittery excitement. "Why he's always tired, and-and the bruises, and the cuts-and, and-" Sirius can hardly sit still. His brain is working at lightning speed. Suddenly he is adding up all the little pieces of the puzzle that is Remus. He's found two and two and come up with four.
"And he never changes in front of us," Peter adds, catching Sirius's rapid-fire understanding. "If his hands are that bad, maybe he's that bad all over," Peter mutters, still watching out the window. "And he's always been so good in Astronomy-I mean, he'd have to be-"
Sirius stands suddenly, unable to sit still. "I can't believe it," he breathes out, running a hand through his hair. "I can't bloody believe it!"
Peter shakes his head in disbelief. "Remus Lupin," he says quietly, "Is a bloody werewolf." Peter stares at Sirius, who stares back, at a loss for words. And then they are laughing, and laughing, and it is too impossible to believe.
Sirius stops laughing first, and he sits down again, eyes anxious. "Shit," he mutters, "No wonder he's always making up excuses."
Across from him, Peter has also stopped laughing and is now looking rather worried. "Should we tell him? That we know, I mean."
Sirius chews on his thumbnail, thinking. "I don't know," he says after a minute. "I mean, he's bound to be pissed, isn't he?"
"Who'll be pissed?"
Sirius jumps; he hadn't heard James approach. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Peter let out a deep breath; apparently, he didn't hear him either.
"Shit, James, you nearly gave me a heart attack," Sirius says.
"What's going on?" James frowns. "You're both looking rather serious. What's happened?"
Sirius glances at Peter, then looks back at James. "Here's the thing," he says, gesturing for James to sit down. "We've figured it out. About Remus," he adds when James looks confused.
"You have? Brilliant!" James looks between the other two. "Go on, what is it?" he asks, leaning forward.
Sirius takes a deep breath. "You're not going to believe this…"
Fifteen minutes later, James eyeballs seem about to pop out of his head. He is slouched in his chair, eyes unfocused, and Sirius can almost see his brain working, connecting all the dots. "It all fits!" he had said a few minutes before. "How did we miss it?"
They have been silent for some minutes when Sirius comes to a decision.
"We can't tell him. Not yet."
"Why not?" Peter asks.
"Let's wait," Sirius says. "Wait until-next time, I guess. We'll wait up for him. Half the time he comes back to the tower in the morning. We'll wait up for him."
"Good idea," James says. "We'll wait."
There has always been something quiet about Remus. Sirius, laying in bed, watching the moonlight streaming through the windows, listens to the sound of Remus's soft breathing from the next bed. Yes, he has always been quiet, from the moment Sirius met him, their first night at Hogwarts.
At first the thought Remus was just shy, or boring, or too bloody proper for his own good. But he's gotten to know Remus since then; he knows Remus has a wicked streak which has been of help in enacting many a great prank; he knows Remus can only be practical for so long when he is with them before he throws practicality to the side in favour of wild spontaneity; he knows Remus is possessed of innumerable little quirks and habits, and that he could probably spend years trying to discover them all and he wouldn't be bored.
And now Sirius knows that if Remus has ever seemed shy, it is because he is afraid of getting close enough to someone that they might discover exactly what Sirius has now found out. He speaks quietly and politely and tries very hard to stay unnoticed, even by his friends. Sirius wonders if Remus has designed himself on purpose, the books and sweaters and impeccable manners, because it is as far from the animal as possible.
And he wonders, vaguely, why he is not afraid, or angry, or disgusted. Perhaps he has always known that Remus is more than he appears to be, and so he is not as shocked as he feels he should be. Or perhaps he doesn't really believe it yet, and it will not be until he wakes up in the morning that the desire to grab his torch and pitchfork will grab him.
Or perhaps it doesn't really matter, because Sirius knows Remus. They were friends before, and Remus was still a werewolf then, only in secret. And Sirius thinks that as long as Remus is still Remus and he is still Sirius, then they will be friends.
Sirius turns over, burrowing into his blankets, warm against the cold December night, and finally falls asleep, the quiet sigh of Remus's breathing echoing in his ears.
continue/a>