Two Fathoms Deep

Peter awoke early the next morning. He got up and began to dress as quietly as he could, cautious not to stir the other boys in Gryffindor Tower. As he finished clasping his robes he glanced over to the bed left of his; on the floor lay a finished crossword puzzle and an empty box of mints.

Peter knew that this must mean Sirius had been up all night, ruminating over their earlier conversation about Remus. Peter felt lucky that he never had any problems getting to sleep; he was one of those people who could sleep anytime and anywhere if he wanted. Sirius and James occasionally teased him about it when he blearily roused after many attempts at waking him for their late-night hijinks--"What did you do, down the Draught of Living Death? Get up, you arse!"--but secretly he was thankful for this ability. He imagined it could be useful one day. Possibly this also helped explain why he had never been able to avoid sleeping all the way through Professor Binn's classes, no matter how hard he fought to stay awake.

Peter spent a lot of time observing his friends and their idiosyncrasies. That's how he knew what Sirius' completed crossword and empty box of Nippy Nackledirk's Mints meant. Sirius could bottle up what he was feeling so completely that no one would ever guess anything was wrong. He would say snarky things to the Slytherins, plan elaborate pranks during classes, and laugh and joke with his friends as if he hadn't a care in the world. His sleepless nights were the only indication that there was trouble simmering beneath the surface.

Peter knew that James and Remus handled their problems in slightly different ways. James was rarely perturbed; Peter remembered he snuck off at midnight to the broomsheds and went flying on the rare occasions when something was worrying him. Then again, this could just be because James had a penchant for illegal risk-taking, and have much less to do with any emotional turmoil.

Remus, at least to Peter, was less obvious when something bothered him; his usual cheerful disposition never faltered. Sometimes, though, like yesterday, he looked paler than usual and seemed to thrum with nervous energy. Peter noted that before his absences he would always bury himself in arcane texts; not, of course, that this was particularly unusual for Remus--but Peter thought it was unusual that such an innocuous activity would leave him especially drained and tired. Like Sirius and his sleepless nights, Peter thought that Remus exhausted himself brooding over his troubles.

He didn't notice nearly as much about the other two Gryffindor second-year boys. The only times they really saw each other outside of classes was in their dormitories, but since the marauders were often busy causing mayhem in other parts of the castle they never interacted much. Peter had never felt like getting to know them better; they were quieter and smaller than James and Sirius, and not nearly as popular or fun. So Peter kept close to the marauders and watched silently.

It was early on a Friday morning so the common room was empty as Peter descended the stairs. Clutching a bag in his right hand, he sat down in a large armchair next to the fireplace and settled down. It was the quiet before daybreak; pale, feeble streaks of color were unfurling across the patch of grey sky that was visible from his perch near the large window in the common room. After gazing at the dawn for a few moments, Peter reached down into his bag and pulled out his sketchpad and his set of Artists' Illustrious Illustrations pencils.

His set of wizarding artist pencils were Peter's most prized possession. Illustrious Illustrations pencils weren't actually all that different from Muggle ones in function. The only distinction was that their colors were charmed never to fade and drawings created with them were resistant to water, fire, and other destructive substances. Once a sketch was completed, Peter performed the Animation charm on it so that the picture would move. It had taken Peter the better part of a month to perfect the charm, and he had ruined a number of drawings in the process. He didn't like stationary drawings nearly as much as ones that moved, so he tenaciously worked it out on his own. He learned that the trick with the charm is to focus on all the emotions and personality he'd envisioned while creating the drawing, manifesting his vision and bringing it to life.

This was Peter's secret passion, the one thing neither James nor Sirius nor Remus could ever hope to best him at. James was, by common consent, a Quidditch God. Remus was clever, and sly when he wanted to be, and obviously a future candidate for Head Boy. And Sirius... well, what wasn't Sirius good at, really? Peter was simultaneously torn between bitterness that his talent was utterly useless at Hogwarts, and secret pride that he had skills his friends didn't. Even if his skills weren't as impressive or useful as theirs, it was his, and his alone. He intended to keep it that way.

These familiar feelings of jealousy and resentment fell away as Peter began to draw. Firmly gripping a drawing pencil in his hand and making the first markings on the blank paper in his lap, his dark thoughts temporarily ceased while his mind instead focused on the image developing before him.

Peter had promised his mum that he'd draw pictures of Hogwarts for her. He hadn't told his friends this, but while his father was a full-fledged wizard, his mum was practically a squib. Since she hadn't attended Hogwarts she was curious about all sorts of things--what the grounds, rooms in the castle, and his professors looked like. Peter had been more than happy to oblige her and lost himself in sketches of Hogwarts and his friends. He drew a picture of James on the Quidditch pitch with a dreamy look on his face, glasses flashing in the midday sun. He sketched a humorous one of Remus and Sirius sitting together in the library; Remus was reading, while Sirius prodded him occasionally and flashed coquettish grins at a sixth year Hufflepuff girl perusing a nearby bookshelf.

He had just started on a picture of the Whomping Willow, which he thought would be fun to animate, when a group of seventh year early risers trooped down from the girls' dormitories. Hastily stashing his sketchpad and pencils in his bag, Peter returned to his room to see if James and Sirius were ready to head off to breakfast.

*-----*-----*

Remus lay prostrate on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack, gasping in shallow, labored breaths. The last of his bones were melding and crunching into place, his joints shifting themselves into his human skeletal structure. Remus always had to avert his eyes as the wolf's inverted joints in his hind legs shot forward to turn into the protruding form of human kneecaps. While the grinding of bones and joints in itself didn't hurt, the niggling feeling that it should was what bothered him the most. He found it easier to screw up his face and wait for the movements of bones reshaping themselves and internal organs squishing into place to cease.

While he never witnessed his wolfish snout shorten into a regular human nose, or saw his ears regain their fleshy tones, Remus could always tell when it happened because he found the distinct lack of sensory input disconcerting. His mind always panicked when his human snses replaced those of the wolf's--it always felt as though someone had turned off the light in a room, rendering him sightless. Human senses simply couldn't compare to a wolf's, and being blind to his surroundings sent him reeling.

The last thing Remus remembered from his transformation back to human form was the itch of his fur as it disappeared, leaving only pale flesh behind. Although his body was bleeding and broken, the self-inflicted wounds didn't bother him as much as the insatiable itch on every inch of skin. It was always like this after transforming back--he was conscious long enough to acknowledge the itchy, creeping discomfort of fur melting like wax into skin before his exhausted mind slipped into oblivion.

Only when Madam Pomfrey woke him later in the infirmary would the real pain set in.

*-----*-----*

"Go away," Sirius groaned, burrowing under the blankets in an attempt to escape Peter's enthusiastic shaking.

"It's time for breakfast! Up, up!" Peter chirped happily, jerking the blankets off Sirius entirely. "Mmmm, do you know, I'm in the mood for some pancakes today, what with that awful Transfiguration exam. I wish I was wherever Remus is so I wouldn't have to take it."

At hearing Remus' name Sirius sat up, blinking at the over-bright sunlight flooding the dormitory.

"When don't you feel like pancakes, Peter?" James snorted, grabbing his toothbrush and comb. "Besides, that Transfiguration exam won't be too bad. We studied for it yesterday. You'll be fine." James finished gathering his toiletries and made to head off for the bathroom.

"Don't see why you even bother with a comb, Jamesikins," Sirius teased, trying to take his mind off what had kept him up half the night. "Your hair is a lost cause. Utterly hopeless."

James threw a pillow at him, but Sirius leapt off his bed and sidestepped it easily. Grinning like a madman, Sirius tackled James and mussed his hair even more. "Aww, don't worry Jamie, Evans probably thinks you're cute anyway, haha!"

James made a horrified face and shoved Sirius off him. "Ack! Evans? I hope not! Merlin's beard, I've never met a more annoying girl! Do you see the way she sucks up to McGonagall in class? She'll be insufferable today!" James stalked off towards the bathroom, leaving Sirius and Peter grinning at his back as he mimicked a high, girlish voice gushing, "Look at me, look at how I turned this thimble into a fluffy kitten, Professor McGonagall, I loooooooove you...."

Sirius, now fully awake, began to dress silently, his brain furiously trying not to think how worried he was about Remus. After a few moments he realized that Peter was staring at him. Sirus paused and quirked an eyebrow. "What's the matter?"

Peter, flushing slightly at having been caught staring, shrugged and made to turn away, but seemed to think better of it and instead asked, "Sirius, are you feeling... all right?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Sirius replied absently, turning back to search for his Gryffindor tie.

"I noticed you didn't sleep much last night, that's all," Peter said. Sirius froze; Peter couldn't possibly know what he'd been thinking about, could he? Just as this stomach-turning thought entered Sirius' head, Peter continued, "I know you were thinking about Remus."

Sirius blanched in horror, breath catching in his throat. Was it that obvious he felt differently about Remus? Feeling lightheaded, as though he'd just choked down too much of Ogden's Firewhisky in one go, Sirius slowlyned to look back at Peter. Peter, seeing Sirius' stricken look, rushed to say, "I mean, we're all wondering about what's going on with him, but you shouldn't worry... we'll figure it out."

Mentally chiding himself for panicking, Sirius exhaled and grinned at Peter, who looked relieved to see Sirius acting normally again. "I know. Now, let's go and see what's taking James so long. Probably got distracted, thinking about Evans," quipped Sirius, giving Peter a cheeky wink. Peter laughed, and Sirius felt the color return to his face. Grabbing his tie, Sirius went off with Peter to find James and drag him down to breakfast.

*-----*-----*

"How are you feeling, dear?"

Remus tried to sit up, but found the pain lacing through his body unbearable, and instead lay gingerly back down on the infirmary bed. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw swirls of dust shimmering in the rays of sunlight that poured through the nearby window. It's over, he thought, glad that the sun always followed the moon, conquering it time and time again. It's over.

"Mr. Lupin? Are you feeling all right?"

Remus belatedly realized that Madam Pomfrey was standing over him with a concerned expression on her face and a dark green bottle in her hand.

"All right," croaked Remus, grimacing at how hoarse his voice was after the full moon.

Madam Pomfrey's expression softened as she poured some of the green bottle's contents into a glass and handed it to Remus. "Here, Mr. Lupin, drink all of this."

Remus glanced dubiously at the foul-smelling liquid, but drank it all in one go anyway. Coughing weakly, he asked, "What's it for?"

"It seems last night's transformation was harsher on your body than usual. You sustained a large number of internal injuries." Looking sympathetically at Remus, she busied herself with fluffing his pillows. "I've already healed the worst of them, but this will help stop any residual internal bleeding."

Remus nodded, wishing she wouldn't look at him like that. He was weak now, but by dinner he would be well enough to join his classmates. He felt bad enough as it was--he didn't want her anxiety weighing on his conscience, too.

"I'm afraid you have quite a gash on your back as well, Mr. Lupin. It's healed, but the cut was too severe to prevent it from scarring. It was so deep it nearly went to your spinal cord, which would have been a much more serious injury, really. I'm sorry I couldn't stop it from leaving a mark."

"It's all right," said Remus, by now accustomed to hearing these accounts of his injuries. Yawning, he closed his eyes, trying to find a position that didn't further aggravate the throbbing of his muscles.

"I'll wake you in a few hours, when the pain should be nearly gone," said Madam Pomfrey soothingly, watching Remus' chest begin to rise and fall in the pattern of sleep.

Eyes welling with tears, Madam Pomfrey turned to find Albus Dumbledore standing a few feet from the infirmary door. Sniffing a little, Madam Pomfrey asked, "Can I help you with anything, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore smiled at her kindly, taking a few steps nearer to where she stood by Remus' bed. "Mr. Lupin is quite the young man. I find that Hogwarts is just the place for those who possess such strength and bravery."

Madam Pomfrey looked into Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and nodded briskly, trying to resume her usual no-nonsense demeanor. "Mr. Lupin is indeed the quintessential Gryffindor."

"That he is, Poppy. I imagine he would make a fine prefect in a few years."

Remus smiled softly into his pillow, mind swimming hazily in the place between sleep and consciousness.

>

*-----*-----*

Peter sighed happily as he sank into his seat at the Gryffindor table, ravenous after the stressful exam earlier.

"I'm having roast tonight," said James, sliding in the seat next to Peter while Sirius placed himself across from them. "I don't feel like eating chicken after that debacle in Transfiguration. What on earth that Hufflepuff was thinking..."

Peter chuckled, glad that for once he wasn't the one who messed up in McGonagall's class.

"You shouldn't make fun of other students, Potter!" said Lily sharply, who was sitting a few places away from them, apparently waiting for her giggly entourage to join her. "It isn't very sporting of you, you know."

James glared at her, then turned around and rolled his eyes at Sirius and Peter, who exchanged amused glances at the usual repartee between the two. "I wasn't making fun Evans, I was just saying I didn't feel like eating chicken, not that it's any of your business."

Lily snorted and opened her mouth to retort, but just then her friend Eliza plunked down in the seat beside her. Giving James one last disdainful sniff, Lily turned away and began chatting with her friend.

"How can anyone be so interfering?" James said darkly, glaring at the back of Lily's head. "Honestly."

Sirius grinned at him, leaning across the table and speaking into his ear, "Cute though, isn't she? All those long locks of auburn hair and those bright green eyes..."

"Oh, come off it Sirius," snapped James, turning pink either from embarrassment or rage, Peter couldn't tell. "Are you telling me you fancy her?"

Grinning even more widely, Sirius said in an awful, saccharine voice, "No, but I think I know someone who does--"

Sirius stopped mid-sentence, eyes fixed on something behind them, his own cheeks beginning to flush. James and Peter both turned around in their seats, wondering what had caused Sirius to halt so abruptly. It took them both a moment to notice that Remus had entered the Great Hall, and was walking slowly towards them.

*-----*-----*