All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Second Year : Potions, again

He had already bunked off Transfiguration, which would mean detention from McGonagall. Although his head was still a mess, Sirius knew he probably couldn’t get away with skipping all his lessons, so he reluctantly made his way to his next class.

Luckily, it was History of Magic, which meant he hardly had to pay attention. In his mind, he played Remus’s words over and over again, on loop. I’m not that much of an idiot, Black…

Sirius tried to be reasonable. He knew all too well that his friend had a tendency to lash out—it was one of the things they had in common. Remus was probably just scared—he probably didn’t mean it.

Except…except Sirius remembered his friend’s face as he’d said it, the slight sneer curling his lip, the deep anger in his eyes. It hadn’t felt like something drawn purely from the heat of the moment; it had felt like something that had been building, slowly, for a long time.

James kept trying to pass him notes behind Professor Binns’ back, which didn’t improve Sirius’s mood. As far as he was concerned, his fight with Remus was entirely Potter’s fault. He ignored the notes, pointedly, and remained withdrawn and unresponsive during lunch. Eventually, James threw his hands up and left Sirius to his sulking, whispering,

“I know you don’t like it, but we have to talk to him!”

Sirius disagreed, but he’d already made his objections very clear, to no effect. Besides, he’d warned Remus already—and James was set on his course of action.

As classes ended and the three boys headed back to their room, Sirius steeled himself. What the others didn’t know was that he had come to his own, private decision: he was not going to let Remus leave Hogwarts. Even if it meant gagging James until he could knock some sense into the other boy’s head, Sirius was firm in his conviction that Lupin had to stay. He had to stick around long enough for Sirius to prove him wrong—to show him that he wasn’t a charity case (as if Sirius had the patience for that), and he was a marauder. If his friends had all lost their heads, Sirius would just have to force them to see sense. They were all he had, now that Reg—well. It didn’t matter.

James entered first, with Sirius close behind. Peter followed after, wringing his hands, edgy and nervous. Remus was sitting on his trunk, but he stood when they walked in, staring them down like he was ready for a fight.

“Hiya, Remus,” James said, with forced cheer. They were all standing, facing each other. Sirius kept his face blank—the tension was unbearable.

“Hi,” Remus replied, wary.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Look mate, I’ll get right to it, ok?” James ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous tic that left it sticking up even more. “We’ve noticed…well we couldn’t not notice that you’re away a lot, in the hospital wing. Every month, pretty much.”

Something hardened in Remus’s face, something sharp and a little mean. For a moment, his eyes flashed dangerously. Sirius felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Ok.” His voice was sullen, the syllables clipped.

“Yeah,” James nodded, ignoring Remus’s tone and continuing on as if this were any old chat, “Every month…around the full moon.”