He never gets used to it. The full moon. It starts a week before—Remus goes to bed early, he gets headaches, back aches, loses his appetite. James hates it. Hates that there's nothing he can do, and that everything he says just seems to make things worse. Remus can't stand being fussed over, or when they hover around him. James gets it. Sirius gets it less—which is ironic considering he can be such an antisocial prick when he's in a mood.
On the really bad moons, Remus can't get out of bed. On the better ones he drags himself through his classes. Those days are the most stressful if James is honest, because Remus is so sensitive. He winces at the light, the noise, at being touched, which sends Sirius into overprotective mode and means that James spends the whole day trying to keep the both of them in one piece.
"Pads—Sirius! Come on mate, calm down," James mutters, one arm wrapped around Sirius's middle as he drags him down the hall.
"I'll calm down when McAllen learns to WATCH WHERE THE FUCK HE'S GOING!" Sirius shouts at the quickly retreating back of a Hufflepuff third year.
"Merlin's tits, you wanna try not making me go deaf at the tender age of fifteen?" James is still dragging Sirius along, Peter and Remus up ahead, having not stopped to witness the spectacle that was Black v. McAllen.
"Prick."
"At least you're self-aware."
Sirius scowls at him. "I meant McAllen."
"He was just trying to walk down the hall you bloody maniac."
"He ran straight into Moony!"
James rolls his eyes. "He barely touched him, and it's not as though it was on purpose."
Sirius looks mutinous but when he speaks he isn't angry. Not exactly. "He winced, Prongs—he—" but Sirius's voice drops out, unwilling or unable to finish that thought.
James finds his eyes trailing to the sandy blond head in front of them, "I know."
He doesn't bother pointing out that on days like today Remus winces if you breathe too hard near him. He really ought to stay in the dorm, not that he ever would. He has to be practically catatonic before he'll consider missing class.
"Oh good," the boy in question says dryly as they catch up to him and Peter outside the common room, "he's stopped shouting."
The portrait swings open and the four of them tumble inside, Sirius looking sufficiently cowed.
"Sorry Moony," he mutters, hands in his pockets.
Remus looks over at him, a weak smile managing to pull at his mouth. "It's fine—just, maybe try not to fight everyone who steps near me yeah?"
Sirius lets out a dismissive "pfft" while simultaneously glaring at a group of second years who've dared to start walking in their direction. James is pretty sure he hears one of them actually squeal in fear.
It's a miracle they manage to make it up to their room without anyone being challenged to a duel.
"I'm serious you know," Remus says, making a bee-line for his bed, more out of breath than he should be and with a sickly sweat covering his skin.
Sirius's eyes light up. "No, I'm S—"
James has his wand in Sirius's face before he can speak another word. "I swear to Merlin if you finish that sentence."
Sirius chokes back a laugh, hands coming up in mock surrender. "Don't know why you're pointing that thing at me, Moony's the one who started it," he sends Remus a wink over James's shoulder that earns him a haggard huff.
"I like him better than you," James says simply, dropping his wand.
"Please, you couldn't live without me."
James rolls his eyes, knocking his shoulder into Sirius's. "Prick."
"Twat," Sirius knocks him right back.
It feels good, joking around after the day they've had. A break in the tension that's been pulling at the four of them. Ready to snap. James exhales and feels his shoulders drop away from his neck.
"Sorry Moony," Sirius goes on jovially, "you were saying something before Jamie so rudely interrupted us?"
But Remus has seemingly stopped paying attention, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands, his whole body rigid.
"Remus?" there's new urgency in Sirius's voice as he steps forward, James also inching closer. Sometimes, on the day of the transformation, things can happen too soon. One bone breaking hours before the moon has risen. One organ beginning the shift when the rest of the body has yet to wake up. It's rare, but it happens, leading to frantic emergency Infirmary visits. The first time was the worst, but it never stops being scary.
"Sorry," slowly Remus pulls his hands away from his face, and James thinks he hears Sirius let out a sigh of relief, "headache."
James almost laughs at how inadequate that is, even just looking at Remus you can tell the word "headache" doesn't cover it.
It's another few minutes before Remus actually manages to lift his eyes off the floor, looking directly at Sirius. "I don't need you to protect me."
Sirius blinks. "What?"
"That's what I was trying to say—before. That I mean it. I'm not some...invalid," the last word comes out sharp. "I can handle myself."
A series of emotions flicker across Sirius's face so quickly that James can't catch any of them.
"I know that," he says finally.
"Do you?" the words barely make it passed Remus's teeth.
Peter, who had been lying facedown on his bed, sits up at that, sending James a worried look across the room. This is not going anywhere good.
"Yeah," Sirius says, starting to sound irritated now. "Of course I do. But just because you can handle it, doesn't mean you should have to."
"Sirius," Remus sounds tired, passing a hand over his face. "I—appreciate that. But I don't need a bloody bodyguard."
Sirius huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're being dramatic."
"He's really not. You go more mental around the full moon than he does," Peter says, before ducking to avoid the pillow Sirius chucks at his head.
James is grateful for the interruption, they're all strung too tightly for this conversation. And the last thing anyone needs is Remus and Sirius going at each other. It doesn't happen that often, but when it does it's bloody vicious.
"I need you to have some faith in me Sirius, alright?" Remus's voice has softened a little, the pair of them staring at one another so intensely James feels like maybe he should leave the room.
"Moony," Sirius says finally. "I'll build you a bloody church if that's what you want."
James snorts, earning him a pointed stare from Remus. "Don't encourage him," but he's clearly fighting off a smile.
"Since when does Sirius need encouragement to be an idiot?"
"Oi!" Sirius shouts indignantly, causing Remus to roll his eyes.
With the potential row averted James finds himself following Pete's example and collapsing onto his bed. His whole body sighs with relief, sinking into the extraordinarily soft mattress. He's almost certain the beds at Hogwarts have been charmed because he's never slept on anything so soft.
In the background he can hear the vague noises of Peter and Sirius talking—something about trading chocolate frog cards—Peter is obsessed with them. He wants to be the first wizard to have a full set. It doesn't seem to matter how many times James tries to explain that it's not possible, they put out new cards practically daily, Peter is determined.
It's not until he hears the rattling of curtains being pulled shut that his eyes open and he props himself up on his elbows to see that Remus has closed his bed off. Across the room Sirius and Peter have stopped their bickering, Sirius sending James a concerned look.
"Hey Moons?" James asks tentatively. "You need anything? Food? Water? Pepperup?"
There's a small pause before he answers. "No. Just...quiet, would be good."
James nods, even though Remus can't see him, sliding off his mattress and back onto his feet.
"C'mon Pete, lets go," Sirius is already at the door.
Peter looks at him with confusion. "Go where?"
"Out," James says, joining Sirius.
"But we just got in," there is a slight whine to his voice.
"Yeah, but Moony wants quiet so we gotta clear out."
"I can be quiet," Peter protests.
Sirius and James both make sounds of disbelief. "Yeah, not likely, come on you twat, lets go, chop, chop."
Still grumbling Peter follows them out of the room and as the door is closing James swears he hears the faint sound of a "thank you" coming from Remus's bed.
It's a rather uneventful evening all things considered. They spend most of it in the common room, one of them sporadically going upstairs to check on Remus. They bring him a plate from dinner knowing he probably won't be well enough to eat any of it.
By seven o'clock they're all lounging about by the fireplace again, Pete playing chess with one of the fourth years, Sirius chatting up Mary while she sits shamelessly on his lap and James trying very resolutely not to look—or think—about the red head doing her charms work in the corner. In fact, he is not thinking about her so hard that he doesn't even notice that Remus has come down until he hears his scratchy voice behind him.
"Since when is that a thing?"
James starts, turning around surprised to see a pale Remus behind his chair. He's sitting far enough from the others that no one else seems to have noticed his arrival.
"Since when is what a thing?" he asks perplexed, Remus gestures with his chin and James follows his gaze to Sirius and Mary who seem to have decided that snogging one another in the middle of the common room is perfectly acceptable behaviour.
"Uh...don't know...been flirting with each other since last year though, haven't they?"
"Have they?" the tense tone of Remus's voice brings James's attention back to him. He looks like he's in pain—lips pressed together, eyes tight—but then, he is in pain, so that's not really surprising.
"You okay Moony?"
Remus blinks, eyes still across the room, it takes a few seconds before he seems able to tear them away, swallowing thickly before he speaks. "Yeah—yeah, just the full moon, you know?"
James nods slowly, not sure why it doesn't sound like the truth. "Heading to the infirmary?"
"Yeah," Remus wraps the sweater he's wearing more tightly around himself. "Better get going actually, she'll give me hell if I'm late."
"I'll come with," James says, getting to his feet.
"You don't have to—" but James waves his words away, already walking towards the portrait, Remus trailing slightly behind.
They walk in silence, the hallways mostly empty, people either still in the great hall or tucked away in their dorms for the night. It's a Wednesday, which means Remus is likely stressing about whether or not he'll be well enough to make it to classes tomorrow. He won't be, but James doesn't point that out. Especially since he knows that Remus will end up going anyway, which means Sirius will inevitably end up trying to fight someone. James lifts his glasses and massages the bridge of his nose, already tired.
"So," Remus says, voice rough, "how's quidditch going?"
A laugh bursts out of James before he can help it. "Merlin, you must be desperate for conversation if you're willing to talk about quidditch."
Remus smiles at him out of the corner of his mouth. "Mostly I just know it's a conversation I won't be expected to contribute to much."
"I'll never understand why you hate it."
"I know you won't."
James looks over at him, but the smile is gone now, his face tense and nervous.
"Really Moons," he tries to inject as much sincerity as he can into his words, "are you okay?"
Remus lets out a dry laugh and James quickly corrects himself. "I know—I know that you're not, physically. I'm not asking—you just seem a little bit more...I don't know, sad?"
Remus doesn't answer right away, doesn't answer for a long time actually, doesn't look at James either. When they slow in front of the infirmary doors James half expects him to just walk on through without another word.
But he doesn't.
"I hate this," he whispers, he looks small in a way Remus almost never does. He isn't loud and out of control like James and Sirius, but he's...strong. When Remus John Lupin puts his foot down there is no negotiating. No changing his mind. He's like a fucking mountain—commanding authority and respect in a way that James and Sirius never could. So seeing him like this—seeing him waver—it makes something in James's chest ache.
"Sometimes I just wish," Remus goes on, closing his eyes as he breathes out, "that I was someone else. Anyone else. Anything has to be better than this. Than me."
James's insides twist, wrecked by the pain in Remus's voice. It takes him a while to get himself under control enough to speak. "I know this is going to make me sound like a selfish dick," Remus laughs at that, eyes still closed. "But personally, I'm so fucking glad you're you."
There's a moment of stillness in which James is almost positive he's said the wrong thing, but then Remus opens his eyes, and they're watery but he's smiling again, even if it's only a little.
"Thanks."
There's too much in that word for either of them to fully appreciate.
"Of course."
Remus sighs, pressing the heels of his hands into to his eyes. "Well," he says eventually. "I'll see you, I guess..."
James nods. "You will."
And with that Remus turns away, and James can't quite make himself move even when the door closes.
There's too much time before they have to leave for the shack and James is too twitchy to go back to the dormitory. He needs to do something. To move. Part of him feels like grabbing the cloak and going back to sit with Remus until it's time. It's not that he's never heard him talk like that before—of course he has. Every few months there's a particularly bad moon that makes Remus's gaze hard to hold. The three of them being with him, it helps. But it doesn't fix anything. And James hates that. Hates that the best thing he could come up with doesn't even come close to a solution.
"You're pathetic you are."
The sound of voices up ahead snaps him out of his thoughts. He stumbles to a stop, somewhere near the library—admittedly he hadn't really been paying attention to where he was going. There's the sound of scuffling around the corner and then a thud—someone being slammed against the wall he reckons.
"Awe look, I think he's going to cry. Are you gonna cry wittle baby?"
"Merlin, your poor mother, stuck with two pansies for sons."
James already has his wand out even before he hears the third, and unmistakable, voice of Severus fucking Snape: "Stop playing with your food Mulciber, some of us have places to be."
Without another thought James steps around the bend. There's three of them—all Slytherins, of course—Mulciber with his hand on some kid's throat, holding him to the wall, Avery and Snape standing beside him. Snape looking bored, Avery giddy.
"Got a hot date with the Giant Squid Snivellus?" James asks as he casts a wordless incarcarous at Mulciber who is instantly thrown to ground as ropes snake around his arms and legs. James can't help grinning—he's been practicing that one.
"Fucking Potter—"
"Expelliarmus," James catches Avery's wand as it flips through the air. He barely has time to blink in Snape's direction before he hears the beginning of a Levicorpus. He dives to the side just as the spell fires, missing him by an inch and cracking the stone wall behind him.
James laughs, straightening up with two wands in his hands, Mulciber grunting on the floor. "Careful there Snivellus, wouldn't want our little prefect getting in trouble now would we?"
The pair have their wands up and ready but neither moves. Snape's face is pinched, his lanky hair curtaining it on either side, out of the corner of his eye James sees Avery take a step forward and quickly point his own wand at him. "Ah, ah, ah."
Avery growls. "It's not going to let you cast—it's not loyal to you."
"Wanna bet?" the whole time he doesn't take his eyes off of Snape.
"Will someone get rid of these bloody ropes!" Mulciber shouts.
James arches his brow. "Sounds like your friend could use some help there."
"You better watch your mouth Potter," Snape hisses.
"Is this about the squid comment? Honestly I'm happy for you, I hear she puts out."
Snape fires off a stupefy but James blocks it easily.
"See, this is why you were always so crap at quidditch," James says conversationally, enjoying himself perhaps a little too much for someone currently outnumbered three to one. "So fucking predictable."
"I noticed you stopped making a fool of yourself in front of Lily," Snape shoots back, a leer hanging in the corner of his mouth. "Finally realize she'll never look twice at a moron like you?"
Admittedly, that stings more than James would like it to, a few choice memories of his proposals to Evans sneaking unwelcome into his thoughts. "That depends," he says, shaking his head clear, happy to find his voice unaffected, "have you?"
Snape's face clouds over and James is certain he's about to get hexed again.
But he doesn't.
Something shifts. Snape straightens up, a cocky smirk replacing his scowl.
"I'm going to enjoy it you know," his words make as little sense to James as his sudden change in mood.
"You're going to enjoy it?" James repeats slowly. "Enjoy what you creep, fucking the Giant Squid?"
But for the first time in their lives Snape doesn't rise to the bait. "This is all irrelevant Potter, all so insignificant compared to what's coming. And it's not going to be long now, I can wait. I can be so patient."
"Oh well, don't stop there Snivellus," James adjusts the grip on his wand, eyes doing a quick scan of the corridor, trying to figure out what he's missed. "Share with the class why don't you."
But Snape only smiles. "I just hope I'm there to see it."
Now James is starting to get irritated. "See what?"
"See them break you."
He slides his wand back up the sleeve of his robes like James isn't still armed and aiming at him.
"Break m—"
But Snape cuts across him, speaking directly to Avery; "Get him up, we're done here." He kicks Mulciber with the toe of his shoe before turning away and skulking down the corridor.
"What the fuck Snape?" James shouts after him, with half a mind to follow. The problem is, Snape put his wand away, and as much of a git as he is, James isn't about to start firing hexes at someone who isn't armed.
"Oi!"
Avery's nasally voice breaks through his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the two idiots still in front of him. Mulciber now teetering on his feet still bound by James's ropes, Avery scowling. "My wand Potter," he holds out his hand expectantly.
James arches his brow. "No please? Come now Avery, surely your mother taught you better than that."
"Give. Me. My. Wand." His face is so red and angry James half expects it to burst open. He considers toying with them a little longer but he really should be heading back to the others.
"You want this?" he holds up Avery's wand, twirling it between his fingers.
"You know I do, you twat."
James nods, barely holding back a grin. "Well alright then," he winds his arm back and chucks the wand down to the other end of the corridor.
"Bastard!"
"Go on doggy," James says with barely contained glee, "fetch."
Growling, Avery takes off after his wand.
"Hey!" Mulciber shouts. "Hey wait—fucking—Merlin's tits, wait!"
James can't control himself anymore, laughter bursting out of him as he watches Mulciber hop down the corridor like some kind of monstrous rabbit.
It's not until then that he remembers the fourth member of the party. The victim—still sitting where Mulciber dropped him, back to the wall, knees pulled up. James feels his heart stutter for a moment.
"Regulus?" he asks incredulously.
Grey eyes meet his. Despite his current state, there isn't a slick of embarrassment in Regulus's stare. If anything he looks resigned.
"Yes, sorry," he says dryly. "I would have made myself known sooner only, I thought it might take away from your heroics if you realized who you were saving."
James blinks, still adjusting to the fact of his presence. "You think I would have let them carry-on if I realized it was you?"
Regulus just stares back at him flatly, which only manages to irritate James. "I wouldn't have. Of course I wouldn't have."
There's a brief pause before a snarky smile spreads across his face. "No, I suppose you wouldn't, saintly reputation to uphold and all that. Gosh, what must it be like to be so righteous?"
Regulus either doesn't expect, or desire, an answer because he gets to his feet, picking up his fallen wand and books and turning to give a gapping James Potter another hard look.
"Well," he says, running James over with his eyes, "cheers."
He turns on his heel, walking down the now empty corridor.
James could let it go, he absolutely could. He certainly has more important things to be doing right now than bothering with Regulus Black. He could let it go—except, of course, that he can't at all.
"What the hell was that all about then?" he asks as he falls in step with the younger boy.
Regulus sends him a look out of the corner of his eye. "Oh joy, you're following me."
James pointedly ignores that comment. "With Snape and them—didn't think Slytherin's picked on their own?"
Regulus lets out a dry laugh. "Didn't you?"
And, well, James has no idea what to do with that. "Regulus—"
"Please stop calling me that."
"Well I can't call you Black."
"And why not?" they round another corner and James realizes, with some trepidation, that they're heading towards the dungeons. He'll be outnumbered by a lot more than three down here.
"I don't know, cause your brother's my best mate?"
Regulus sends him another sidelong glance. "I don't know what that has to do with me."
"It would be weird."
"I assure you, it wouldn't."
James lets out an exasperated sigh. "Right, okay," he runs a hand through his hair, "say I call you Black, will you tell me what happened then?"
Regulus rolls his eyes. "Severus asked me to do a favour for him," he says coldly.
James waits for more but Regulus is frustratingly unforthcoming. "Based on that little melodrama, I'm guessing you told him no?"
There's a pause, their steps echoing in the empty hall.
"I told him to blow me."
The laugh that comes out of James makes Regulus start so hard he almost drops his books.
"Christ," the younger boy swears as James tries to contain himself. "What the hell was that?"
"It's called laughter, you should try it sometime."
Regulus glares. "That was not a laugh, that was a fucking banshee cry."
But James only smiles. "I'm choosing to take that as a compliment."
"I promise you, it wasn't one."
"Oh well, too late now," there's a curl of pride in James's stomach at the sight of a smile hiding in Regulus's mouth. He's never seen that before. Never seen Regulus do anything but scowl.
"So he didn't take you up on your offer then?" James asks eventually.
"Funnily enough, no."
James smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets as they pass by a pack of Ravenclaw girls who almost immediately start whispering to each other. James is usually quite happy to be the subject of school gossip, but for some reason this attention makes him feel antsy.
"I'm surprised you let dumb and dumber back there disarm you," he starts talking again to distract himself.
Regulus snorts, keeping his eyes on the space ahead of him and very resolutely off of James. "They didn't disarm me," and then, after a beat; "Mulciber punched me. In retrospect, I really should have seen that coming."
James looks over at him and notices the bruise on his jaw for the first time. It sends an eery shiver down his spine, images of Sirius standing so lost and hurt on his doorstep. He looks away.
"Well," Regulus comes to a stop in the middle of the corridor pulling James up short. The two of them stand facing one another for the first time. God, James can't help but think, those fucking eyes. "As strange as this has all been, I really think it would be best for us to part ways now."
When James just stares blankly back at him he continues, with the air of the long suffering. "As much as I appreciate your...assistance—"
"Assistance?" James laughs, thinking it's a funny way of saying 'thanks for saving my ass.'
Regulus ignores him. "Being walked to my dorm by James Potter is hardly going to help matters."
James splutters. "I'm not walking you to your dorm."
Regulus blinks at him, looks down the hall, then blinks at him again. "Potter, that is literally what you're doing."
"No I'm—well, it's just when you put it like that it sounds like—cause I'm not—it's just, we're just walking, I'm not..." for some reason he can't explain the heat is rising in his face, his hand going nervously to the back of his neck.
Regulus stares back at him for the longest thirty seconds of James's life before he lets out an aggravated sigh—unnecessarily aggravated, in James's opinion. "Okay then. Goodbye Potter."
He watches Regulus walk away, almost thinks he's going to let him. And then: "Hey, Regulus?"
The younger boy stops, but it takes him a while before he turns around, that look of resignation back on his face. He doesn't say anything, just watches James expectantly.
"What was Snape on about?" he pushes away the nagging feeling in his stomach that insists he already knows. Because it can't be that. It can't. Not here. Snape is a prick but he's not—he can't be.
Regulus's eyes widen slightly, and he suddenly looks startling young. James almost wants to take it back—if it's going to make Regulus look at him like that.
The other boy opens and closes his mouth several times but nothing comes out. Eventually he sighs, grey eyes full of something like pity. "You really should get out of here James," and that's it. He turns around again and doesn't stop.
James might have been able to protest—might have been able to demand an actual answer. Except that his ears are ringing with that last word. James. James. James. And the way it makes something warm bloom inside him.
"Where the hell have you been?" Sirius demands ten minutes later when he makes it back up to their dorm room. "We're almost late." He whips the invisibility cloak at James who fumbles it.
"Sorry, ran into Snape and his lot," James mutters as the three of them climb under the cloak, Peter already a rat riding on Sirius's shoulder.
"They ambush you?" Sirius asks, tone suddenly much more understanding.
"Nah, other way around. Found them picking on some kid," the guilt is instant. He doesn't lie to Sirius, not really. He's not even sure why he's doing it now.
"Wankers, we'll have to organize a little payback huh? Take them down a few pegs."
James nods as they slip out of the common room and into the hall. "Definitely."
Peter Squeaks in agreement.
It's a seamless walk to the shack, they've done it so many times by now they're old hats—know which stairs to take, what halls to avoid, what time Pomfrey leaves—which is never soon enough in James's opinion. Once they nearly ran into her in the tunnel and it was a fucking disaster.
"Hey Moons," Sirius says as they whip off the cloak in the shack's upstairs bedroom.
"Hey Pads," Remus croaks, he's sitting on the dirty mattress on the floor, head between his knees, breathing too fast. He doesn't look at them.
Sirius kneels next to him, carefully rubbing his back, while Peter scurries onto his lap. Remus makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "You lot are ridiculous you know that?"
"We've been told," James says, stashing the cloak before he joins his friends, sitting on the floor in front of them.
Remus lets out another choked noise. "It's bad tonight. I don't know why it's so bad tonight. F—fuck."
Sirius looks at James, his eyes tight. "We're here Moony," he says softly. "We'll be here the whole time."
Remus nods in a jerky movement, visibly shaking now. "You should change."
James gets to his feet, Peter scurrying off of Remus to come stand by his feet. But Sirius is reluctant to move, continuing to rub comforting circles on Remus's back until the screaming starts. That's always the hardest part for James. Remus's voice tries to tear itself apart as he convulses on the bed, skin beginning to split open.
His thoughts change slightly when he's a stag. They become more simple—he sees and hears and tastes the world differently, new senses filtering into his brain in a way that is distinctly not human.
The first thing his stag brain thinks when Remus has fully transformed, is wrong.
Wrong.
Something is wrong.
He doesn't know what it is, the wolf is on edge, tense and twitchy. It doesn't follow them as willingly out of the house as it usually does, a low growling emanating from its chest the whole time. It makes James nervous, his pulse beating in time with his thoughts.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
They're barely past the tree line when it lunges. Claws out, teeth barred. Padfoot only just doges it, scrambling away in surprise. They play with the wolf all the time—tackling one another, sometimes nipping each other on the shoulder or ear. But this is different.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
The wolf makes another attempt but this time James is there, stepping between the pair and pushing the wolf back, pounding his hooves into the dirt. The wolf glares at him so James tilts his head down, threatening his antlers. He's not going to use them—he couldn't—but the wolf doesn't need to know that.
After a few more seconds of glaring at one another Moony skulks off, running deeper into the forest.
He's angry.
Why is he angry?
Padfoot comes up beside him, Peter making figure-eights as he runs around their legs, letting out little nervous squeaks. After a few minutes he swears he hears Padfoot huff and then he starts off after Moony. James follows, making sure to keep close to him.
They find the wolf by the small stream about half a mile in. Drinking. Padfoot goes bounding into the water, face spreading into a grin, tongue hanging out. James joins him. Moony lays down sulkily on the beach but at least he seems calmer.
It's a nice night, warm, the moon and stars so bright they're almost blinding. Moony, apparently bored, gets back on his feet and takes off again into the forest. The rest of them are quick to follow, Padfoot shaking his fur dry in a move that is very reminiscent of his human form. They know the forest pretty well by now but James still feels himself getting disoriented. Moony is going deep. Too deep.
Padfoot barks, trying to call him back. James can't see him anymore, it's too dark, the trees here too crowded. The three of them slow. Turning around themselves. James tries to hear, to smell, but there's nothing.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
It happens so fast. One minute they're lost and the next Moony is coming through the trees—James has never felt afraid of him, not really, but this time...he goes right for Padfoot. The pair tumble to the ground a few feet away and the noise—Sirius whines in a way that James has never heard before and his heart stops.
He's barely thinking as he charges after them, Peter squealing behind him. One well aimed kick gets Moony off of him—it's too hard, he knows it is, but he's panicking. And Sirius doesn't get up. The wolf comes at them again—except he isn't coming for them. He's coming for Padfoot. This time James rises up onto his hind legs and throws his front feet heavily into the wolf's chest, knocking him backwards and into one of the trees behind him.
Fuck.
Fuck, Remus. Fuck.
James turns back to the dog. He doesn't know what to do. He can't turn back, not yet, not with Moony right behind him. But he's fucking useless as a stag. He moves forward, and sees the slow rise and fall of the dog's chest. And the blood—catching in the moonlight. He nudges him as gently as he can, Peter running mad laps around him. Padfoot groans and then, slowly, pulls himself up.
James almost cries—though he's not sure what that would be like as a stag. He needs to know if Sirius is okay but there's no fucking way to ask and then, as if he's heard James's thoughts, he comes forward and gives Prongs a lick. James laughs and it comes out as a heavy breath through his nose.
They turn back towards Moony, sitting still where he hit the ground, curled in on himself, licking his wounds. He growls when he notices them watching. There's a small tug at James's leg and he looks back down at Padfoot. The dog holds his gaze for a moment before nodding his head in the direction of the shack.
He wants to go back.
He's been hurt, and clearly Moony is riled up for some reason. It makes sense, but James's chest still aches a little at the thought. They've never split up on a full moon before. He dips his head slowly so Padfoot knows he understands and without pausing the black dog slinks off into the woods, limping more than James is comfortable with. Part of him wants to follow, but it's too early and he can't leave Moony alone.
So he tears his eyes away from the spot where Padfoot disappeared and takes his place beside the wolf.
"Shit Sirius," James slips out from under Remus's arm as they enter the bedroom in the shrieking shack. Sirius is sitting against the wall, the side of his shirt drenched in blood.
"It's not as bad as it looks," he says, voice rough around the edges.
James picks up his wand and kneels beside him while Peter takes Remus's unconscious body the rest of the way to the mattress.
"How is he?" Sirius asks while James lifts up his shirt to get a better look at his injuries.
James grimaces. "He's had easier nights. At least he's bleeding less than you." He holds his wand over Sirius but pauses before he casts, catching his friend's eye. "I only know episkey," he says apologetically.
Sirius half coughs, half laughs. "Well, go on then, see what it does."
James flicks his wand and watches as the three deep gashes across Sirius's side grow slightly smaller. "Shit," he hisses under his breath, trying the spell again only to accomplish even less.
"That's all I've got."
"Here," Peter comes up behind them, sweating from having carried Remus back to the shack—they hadn't been sure it was a good idea to bring the wolf around Sirius again. Just incase.
Peter nudges James out of the way before taking his place.
Sirius raises his brow. "You know what you're doing Pete?"
He rolls his eyes. "I know at least as much as James."
Sirius smiles. "Fair enough."
Peter's face screws up in concentration as he raises his wand, "Ferula."
Bandages shoot out of his wand and wrap around Sirius's side—from his under arm to his hip.
"Nice one," James slaps Peter on the back. "Where'd you learn that?"
"Remus, 'course," he says, clearly trying to hide how pleased he is to get James's praise. "Where do I learn anything?"
As if on cue, Remus groans, drawing all their attention back to him.
"How long do you reckon we have until Pomfrey gets here?" Sirius asks as he pulls his bloody shirt back down. James is already across the room, Pete's thrown an old blanket across Remus's body but James pulls it back to get a good look at his chest and hisses. It's already turning blue, bruised all down the front.
"Hey Peter," he whispers, instead of answering Sirius's question. "Remus teach you anymore of those nifty healing spells?"
Peter comes to hover over his shoulder, staring down bleakly at their friend and shaking his head. James sighs, dropping the blanket just as Remus's eyes start to flutter open. He gasps like he's coming up for air, struggling at first, and James places a steady hand on his shoulder to keep him from falling onto the floor.
"Easy, easy," he murmurs, as Remus's breathing starts to even out but his eyes stay wide and frantic.
There's a moment of calm when he finds James but it barely last before his eyes are traveling down to the blood on his hands.
"What—" but he winces when he tries to speak, his chest hitching, causing a new wave of guilt to wash over James.
"Sorry," he says. "I—you were a little...." he doesn't know how to explain in a way that won't make Remus feel worse.
"Angry," Peter supplies from behind him, as good a description as any James supposes.
Somehow Remus's eyes grow wider. "D-did I hurt you?" and then; "Padfoot?"
"I'm here," Sirius pops up, without giving any hint that his entire left side has been mauled. James almost laughs when he sees that Sirius has wrapped the invisibility cloak around his shoulders, hiding his bloody torso. Thank Merlin.
Remus nods, eyes bright with tears. "You're okay?"
And James doesn't know if the question is directed at all of them or just Sirius, doesn't know if Remus remembers any of what happened—he doesn't usually. Either way, Sirius smiles—bless him.
"We're okay Moony."
Before anymore can pass between them there is the distinct noise of a door opening.
"Shit," James gets to his feet as Peter quickly shrinks himself back into a rat. "We'll see you soon alright Remus?" he says as Sirius lets him under the cloak. It doesn't escape his notice that Remus's eyes are trained on his bloody hands until the moment they disappear.
They're quiet when they get back to the room, the dim blue light of the early morning filling up the space. James chucks the invisibility cloak into the corner and heads straight for the bathroom, he tries not to think about about what he's washing away as the pink water swirls down the drain.
When he walks back into the room Sirius is inspecting his wounds in front of the mirror, Peter face down on his bed. James pauses, breath hitching again at the sight of Sirius's bloody side, at the knowledge that it could have been so much worse.
Sirius's eyes meet his and he tries to keep his expression blank. "You gonna be able to get those bandages back on?"
"Peter will do me again, won't you Pete?"
An indistinct noise comes from Peter as he speaks into his bedding. James huffs out a laugh, sitting on the end of his own bed. He considers lying down but he knows if he does he won't be able to get back up again.
"How long do we have until breakfast?" he asks, too lazy to check himself.
"Not long—fifteen tops," Sirius answers as he starts looking around for a new shirt. Much to Remus's dismay, Sirius has never learned how to use a wardrobe. James's eyes find his bloodied clothes thrown over his headboard.
"Oi, get rid of those before Moony comes back," he says, earning him an indignant grumble as Sirius finishes pulling a clean jumper over his head. Well, relatively clean.
"I'm not an idiot you know," he says as walks towards his bed, tying his hair back.
James is too tired to snap back, dropping his head into his hands and wondering how many points McGonagall will dock him if he skives off transfigurations this morning.
"He was so angry."
It's the tone that makes James look up—Sirius has suddenly gone quiet, standing at the head of his bed with the bloody shirt between his hands.
"I don't know what I did."
His throat feels tight. "We don't...it could have been random." But for some reason he can't quite make himself believe it.
"Dunno," Pete chimes is, having flipped himself onto his back, "felt pretty Padfoot focused, didn't it?"
James glares at him. "Yes. Thanks Pete. Real helpful."
"He's right though," Sirius chimes in before the two of them can start bickering. He's still looking down at the shirt in his hands. "Fuck, I really don't know what I did."
None of them speak for a while. James watches Sirius nervously, foot tapping against the ground. He really needs to fucking fly—just to get rid of the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He keeps hearing it—Sirius's whine. Keeps feeling the way his breath stuttered. He'd thought—for a second there he'd really thought...
"C'mon," he forces himself to say, pushing to his feet. His whole body protests, begging him to lie down. "Lets go before the great hall gets too crowded."
Peter groans as he slides reluctantly off his bed and makes for the door, but Sirius doesn't move.
"Hey," James says softly, stepping closer and squeezing Sirius's shoulder. "Don't worry about it too much, yeah? Moons loves you."
He sees the muscles in Sirius's jaw tense before he breathes out, nodding his head.
"Yeah."
He incendio's the shirt in his hands so quickly that by the time James realizes what's happened Sirius is already out the door.
The marauders have been sneaking breakfast up to the infirmary every morning after the full moon since about half-way through first year—before they even fully understood what was going on.
At first they would come in under the invisibility cloak but they gave up on that pretty quick. They never could keep quiet once they were all together, and it was a while before any of them could cast a muffliato strong enough to make a difference.
Pomfrey's just accepted it at this point. Secretly James thinks she's glad—glad that Remus isn't alone. She's not nearly as scary as she pretends to be.
"Morning Poppy," Sirius says cheerily, two levitating plates stacked high with breakfast carnage following him into the infirmary.
"Mr. Black," she says wearily, the large room is empty except for one bed with the curtains drawn around it. "Quiet if you please, he hasn't gotten up yet."
Sirius sends James a nervous look over his shoulder. That's unusual. Remus is usually itching to get to class by now.
"How is he?" James finds himself asking.
What's wrong with Remus is another thing that has become quietly accepted between them. Technically she doesn't know that they know but...well, she's not an idiot.
Her face is grim. "He's in bad shape, the worst its been in a while—few fractured ribs, cracked clavicle, bad bruising."
James flinches, vividly remembering the feel of the wolf under his feet.
"How long until he gets out?" Sirius asks, when James can't quite manage to get his tongue working again.
"At least not until tonight—I'd like to keep him until tomorrow morning but I think he might bite my head off if I suggest it."
There's a beat of silence before she breaks it by nodding toward his bed. "Go on, see if you can get him to eat something. But be gentle with him this morning."
"Yes m'am," Sirius gives her a salute, but the grin on his face feels forced.
James is only a little surprised when they pull back the curtain and find Remus sitting upright in bed, an expectant look on his face. Clearly he'd been waiting for them—no doubt pretending to be asleep so Pomfrey wouldn't fuss.
He looks pale and young in his blue pyjamas. There are dark rings under his eyes, and new scrapes across his face.
"Hey Remus," Peter manages cheerily as he pulls up a chair. James does the same on the other side while Sirius takes sits at the foot of the bed.
"Got all your favourites," Sirius lowers the plate onto Remus's lap but he barely looks at it.
"Not hungry," he mumbles, passing it off onto the bedside table. The three of them exchange a quick glance.
"Come on Remus," Peter nudges, gripping his own plate a little too tightly. "Not even the bacon?"
Remus only shakes his head—the gesture is sharp, pointed. He turns to James. "What happened?"
James looks back at him and then down at his plate, pushing his eggs around for a moment, just to buy him some time. "Nothing really—"
"James."
James grimaces, forcing himself to look up again. "Well..." he starts, swallowing, his throat suddenly feels like sandpaper. "I'm not really sure to be honest."
"Your hands," Remus is practically whispering now, eyes the size of James's plate. "Your hands were covered in blood. So I need you to tell me what happened. I need you to tell me the truth. And I need you to tell me now." There is no arguing with that tone of voice.
James nods, exhaling tightly. "Yeah, okay Moony," he puts his own breakfast aside, running a hand through his hair—nervous tick. "Listen, it's like Pete said. You—you got a bit angry."
Remus visibly swallows. "Angry," he repeats. "You said I didn't hurt you?"
"You didn't," he can't think of any way to make this better. To keep Remus from bleeding over this. "You—it—" his eyes flick nervously to Sirius and then back. That's enough for Remus though. He should have known better.
Remus whips his head around, somehow growing paler. "I hurt you?"
Sirius smiles. Too big and too bright, but god James loves him for trying. "Barely. No offence Moony, but you're a bit of a shit werewolf."
"To be fair, he does have a disadvantage," James chimes in.
Sirius arches his brow. "How d'you figure that?"
"Hard to be afraid of a bloke once you know he folds his pants."
Sirius barks so loud that James half expects him to turn back into Padfoot. It's several choked gasps before he manages any coherent response; "Quite right," he wheezes.
"I hurt you?" Remus's voice cuts through the room like a sharp knife. All brevity sucked out of the air. The look of horror hasn't left his face, his eyes wide and demanding.
"Moons," Sirius says eventually, surprisingly soft. "I'm alright, look," he spreads his arms out wide, managing a grin.
"I—" but the words don't quite make it out of Remus's mouth, he opens it and closes it several times before giving up.
James can see the small hitches in his shoulders, like his breath is getting caught in his throat. It reminds him of the way he gets before his skin splits open and the wolf slides out.
"Hey," Sirius moves so that he's right in front of him, hands on his shoulders. "Remus—Remus? Look at me okay? Breathe with me, in and out." Sirius inhales slowly, counts to three and then exhales. "Come on Moons," his eyes are intent, never wavering. "With me okay? In," one, two three. "Out," one two three.
Slowly, Remus's breaths get longer, until eventually he matches Sirius exactly. None of them speak for a while, just listening to each other breathe.
"You alright?" Sirius breaks them out of whatever trance they'd fallen into, hands still on Remus's shoulders.
Remus nods. "Fuck Sirius I'm so—I'm so sorry. I don't—"
"Hey," Sirius holds up one of his hands to stop him. "You don't have to apologize. Really, I mean it, cross my heart and hope James dies."
"Oi!"
Sirius smirks at him over Remus's head as the blond boy lets out a breath that might be close to a laugh.
"Okay?"
But Remus doesn't answer right away, and James sees his hands fisted in the sheets, nails digging into his palms.
"Sirius—"
"I mean it, I'm fine. Aren't I Prongs?"
"Bit of a prat, but other than that, yeah, tip-top," James grins in a way that he hopes betrays none of the anxiety still swirling in his chest.
"See?" Sirius says emphatically. "Peter agrees too, don't you Pete?"
Peter nods vigorously. "Yup. Uh-huh. Definitely a prat."
Sirius reaches over to swot his head, but Peter is too fast, sniggering as he ducks out of the way.
Remus is shaking his head, scrubbing at his face with his hands. "You're all idiots," but his voice sounds thick and not nearly as biting as he no doubt intends it to.
"Can't argue with that," Sirius says.
"It is a very accurate assessment," James agrees.
Remus drops his hands, sniffling a little even though his eyes are dry. "Okay."
Sirius arches his brow. "Okay?"
Remus just nods, looking incredibly tired as he drops back against his pillows.
"Excellent," Sirius beams, overly bright—trying too hard. James hopes that Remus is too tired to notice, but he doubts it. "Now we can get back to breakfast!"
"I'm really not—" but the plate of food has already been levitated from the bedside table back to Remus's lap. He rolls his eyes but doesn't bother fighting it, picking rather unenthusiastically at a piece of toast.
The pause in conversation allows James to realize how tired he himself is, nearly choking on his eggs as he tries to swallow and yawn at the same time. Judging by the light coming in through the windows they haven't got much time before transfiguration and James thinks again about skipping.
"Do you reckon it was maybe because of our little tiff in the dorm room?" Sirius says suddenly, causing everyone to start.
He isn't looking at them, eyes very determinedly on his breakfast, tone very determinedly casual. James groans internally. He really wants to do this now? Now? They only just managed to get Remus to let up on himself.
"Do I—what?" Remus stutters, dropping the piece of bacon that had been on its way to his mouth.
Sirius shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. "I just wondered, y'know, if maybe you were hacked off at me in Moony form cause you were hacked off at me in Remus form?"
Remus blinks and James fights the urge to smack the back of Sirius's head.
"I—I'm not mad at you Sirius," Remus says finally, carefully.
"But you were a bit, yeah? About me being too protective or whatever," he waves his hands about flippantly. "I just wonder if that's why Moony was pissed at me too?"
Something flickers across Remus's face for just a second before he shuts it down. He's good at that, bottling things up. James probably would have missed it except he'd seen it before—in the common room, before they'd walked down to the infirmary. Like he was in pain.
It takes James's brain a second.
"Yeah," Remus says slowly. "Yeah maybe."
But then...
"You reckon?"
Remus nods. "Yeah, must be. But I'm not—I wasn't really—"
James looks between his two friends.
Remus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What I'm trying to say, is I'm not mad. Not anymore, okay?"
Sirius grins. "Good. That's good."
It makes sense, James thinks pityingly as he watches his friend turn back to his breakfast, unsure of how he didn't see it before. Of course Remus was angry.
He fancies Mary.