Bohemian Rhapsody

moment eleven: tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow (January 1974)

Remus was at his bed, silently folding up a faded woollen jumper (Gryffindor crimson) and placing it in an overnight bag. The other boy watched him, arms folded across his chest, leaning against his own bedpost. Remus was aware of that watchful gaze, as always, and tried not to hunch his shoulders against it. Sirius was always so non-judgmental, and that always made Remus feel even more guilty...for the things Remus couldn't tell him.

Zipping up the leather bag sharply, he looked down at it, this horrid brown dead cow thing on his bed. He ignored the similarities with a doctor's bag, and tried to suppress that small voice in the back of his head that was currently discussing wolf/cattle relations, and picked it up. Remus was always surprised by how light the bag always was, the assortment of belongs that made up his life. Every month he packed it: the few things he wanted to take for obvious reasons, such as clothes; and then there were the things he just didn't want to part from, in case anything happened in the night. There was his Hogwarts' letter, which he seemingly carried around with him everywhere; a set of his favourite pencils and drawing parchment; a quill and ink; and finally, his much loved and worn copy of Hamlet.

"O that this too too sullied flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself into a dew," he quoted to himself, turning to make his way from the bed. Sometimes he did wish he could just melt away; for every month Remus promised himself that there would be more left behind, more to leave behind, and every month the same half-empty bag damned him. He was only 13, admittedly, but this was all he was. And there was always the chance that something could go wrong, and this was all he would ever be.

"Where'r'ya going, Remy?", Sirius Black asked him, with the same look of gentle concern on his face. Ever since they'd become friends, he'd stood here, every month and asked the same question.

The shorter boy stopped at his side, refusing to look up. "Same place I've always gone," he muttered, softly, ashamed. "And no, I can't tell you."

Sirius' tone changed to one of injury. "You can't trust me, Remus?"

Remus sighed, forcing his mind away from a bitter response. They always had the same argument - what did it matter? "It's not that and you know it."

"I care about you. You've gone Merlin knows where every month for the past three years-"

"We weren't friends in first year, so that doesn't count."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, faintly amused. "You're telling me it didn't happen in first year as well?"

Remus refused to rise to the bait, refused to give into their friendship. "It's a medical condition, Sirius. I can't say anything more."

Sirius stepped aside sharply, and let Remus pass. Neither boy looked at the other as Remus left the dormitory.

It was past nightfall as two young boys made their way over the small rise, clad in thick winter robes against the cold. Sirius, intrepid and eager, led the way, striding with a determined air that suggested that even if he didn't know where he was going, he was certain to get there as quickly as possible. The cool night air whipped softly at the end of his shaggy hair, cut just over regulation length with the constant promise that he would get it shorter, one of these days. Trailing a small distance behind him was another young boy, slightly bulkier in his build as opposed to Sirius' clean form. James Potter absently adjusted his glasses, wishing they had the time to stop so he could clean them properly. They'd been splattered with vapour in Potions, and large smears distorted his view. It was typical of James that he hadn't bothered to so far, but now that it was dark, vision suddenly became an issue.

Fortunately, the light of the full moon was such that they didn't need a lamp, as it would have drawn even more attention to them. James winced as a twig snapped audibly under his foot, and pointedly asked, "Are you sure he went this way?"

Sirius sighed, but didn't slow down. "Of course I am." He pointed off to the large tree, despite the fact that the shadow of night made it near impossible to judge any distance. "It's just a little way to the Whomping Willow, and he was definitely headed towards that."

"Well, yeah," replied James, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "but we didn't see where he went after that. I mean...he wouldn't have just gone near the Willow, the Tree's a nutter!"

Sirius paused. "Hmmm. He must have gotten around somehow?"

"To the Shack? Why would he have gone to the Shack? Even I'm scared of the Shack, and you know me, I'll do anything," James commented, darkly humorous.

"Maybe the noises aren't ghosts, like we thought," Sirius mused to himself, still traipsing over wet ground, a spring in his step.

"Well, what are they then?" The younger boy looked across at him, pushing his glasses back up with a sniffle. James was always susceptible to the night air.

Sirius shrugged. "Maybe they're designed to keep someone out, Jim me boyo," he joked in an admittedly shoddy Irish accent.

James pulled ahead of Sirius, interested now. "No, I think you've got a point. Maybe it's something Remus is involved with...maybe his family. You know he never hears from them, and he always has those talks with Dumbledore..."

They finally made it over the rise, the sprawling shape of the Whomping Willow indistinct in the moonlight. James was just about to ask Sirius what his brilliant plan was now, when a sound came just on the verge of his hearing.

James went deathly pale, and pulled at Sirius' robe. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Hear that." It sounded again, a little louder.

Sirius turned to him. "I did hear that."

They made their way closer, huddled and talking in whispers. "What do you think it sounds like?", asked James.

"Dunno."

"What do you think it is?"

"Dunno."

"You're no help."

Sirius grunted. "If you want someone who has no life and therefore knows everything, ask Snape."

"Remus knows more than Snape," pointed out James, somewhat unhelpfully.

Sirius stood out the range of the baleful tree, peering into the night. "Remus is different," he muttered.

The noise sounded again.

"Well, we can hear it louder," James piped up. "It's definitely coming from the shack."

It was a long, baying noise and it made both boys want to leap in terror. But, one way or another, they were bound here, by ties of loyalty to each other, and the one who'd wandered out here in the darkness.

"We really should have gotten Peter to come with us," hissed James.

"Peter would have run off by now and asked McGonagall where Remus was," Sirius replied smoothly, assessing the situation. "And that would have been no help. He's better off asleep."

James could see Sirius concentrating, the wheels turning in his head. "I think I know what it is," James said finally, not wanting to disturb the other boy.

"What is it then?"

"Listen." They listened, and the long mournful note sounded around them.

After a short pause, Sirius looked at James, wary, and waited for the answer.

"It's a werewolf. Look, it's got to be," James stated, excited. "It's full moon tonight, and I think he does this around full moon." James continued, unaware of the expression that was growing on Sirius' face. "I guess some member of his family was bitten, you know, and they brought him here cause Hogwarts is safe. He must spend all his time locked up there; and you know it's been said that close friends or family members can help werewolves retain some of their humanity during the transformation." His brow furrowed, and James pouted. "Not fair to Remus though, being locked up with a werewolf, even if there is some kind of protection. I guess there must be - he's always seemed safe before."

Sirius barely spoke. "I caught him coming out of the Hospital Wing once...he had these cuts up his left side, like claw marks, but he made me swear not to tell anyone. Said he'd ventured into the Forbidden Forest as a prank."

James started getting furious. "Well, they really should take better care! Everyone knows that werewolves are beasts - that's why they have those institutions for them, so they can kept away from normal people." He felt Sirius take a firm grasp of his shoulder, and stopped, both frightened and puzzled.

Sirius' voice was low in his ear. "Merlin help me James, you call him a monster again and I'll kill you, even if you are my best friend."

James felt the threat implicit in the tone, and the firm grip, even if he didn't understand it. "Eh?"

The taller boy whirled him around, bending his knees slightly to look directly at James. "He's the werewolf, James. Not someone from his family. Remy is."

James looked shocked, his eyes wide. "But!", he spluttered, trying to form coherent words. "They don't let things like that into Hogwarts!", his voice rising in pitch at his sudden fear. "It's against the charter or something!", he finished, and was shaken for his efforts.

"I told you, James. He's not a monster. He's our friend."

James still had some difficulty taking this in. "But..."

Sirius roared at him, fury in his face. "He's our friend!"

James stepped back, and composed himself. "You're right...of course. Even if he is a werewolf, I know what he's like normally. I just...what must life be like for him, do you think?" he offered timidly.

"Bloody hellish, that's what," was Sirius' quick reply.

They stood in silence for a moment, before James saw something glistening in the moonlight - a tear down the other boy's cheek. He awkwardly reached forward to wrap his arms around Sirius, hugging him, as Sirius gazed across the dewy landscape and into the cold night.

"Gods, James!", he hissed, angry and bitter. "Remus...His entire life, perhaps....And his family doesn't even talk to him!" he muttered. Pulling himself out of the embrace, he wiped his face, before looking back at the Shack in the distance. "We've got to do something for him, James. I'm not letting him suffer like this."

James was used to seeing his friend take charge of pranks, yes, but this was different. There was nobility in that gaze now, and sanctity, as if Sirius' dedication to his friends could be glimpsed in him, raising him. "What can we do?" James asked, softly, squeezing Sirius' hand.

"I'll look stuff up," was Sirius' trusty reply. "I'll find something, and then we'll help him."

"And in the meantime...?"

Sirius nodded, and set back the way they came, to the dorms. "In the meantime I'll be there for him," he said, firmly, and James absently noted the fact Sirius said 'I' and not 'we.'

After a few minutes of silence, Sirius turned to call back to James. "Oh, and don't tell Peter, alright?"

James looked at him. "Why not?"

"Because Peter couldn't keep a secret to save himself," Sirius curtly replied. "You know he'll try, but then he just makes it so obvious he's hiding something..." He broke off sighing, and James reluctantly agreed.

"Alright, I won't tell him. But you know how he hates not being told about stuff."

Sirius grumbled, his mind set. "Fine then. He can get me back sometime, alright? If he ever finds out."

The two continued the journey in silence, and managed to get back to Gryffindor Tower without incident.