Intended

[thirty four]

Things in Sirius's life are far from normal, though. He is not such an ordinary boy that Fate will leave him alone. It seems determined to place him on trial, again and again, if not through his Intended, then through his friends.

The dormitory is quiet except for the sound of James pacing up and down the room's length. Sirius slouches on the end of his bed as he watches James walk; he can see the agitation in the boy's movements, the puzzlement in his face. Peter glances between the two of them, catching Sirius's questioning eye and shrugging.

'James, could you stop doing that?' Sirius finally speaks up, tired of hearing the quick, jerky footsteps that have been knocking at his ears ever since they came back from Defence Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. 'Only, you're going to wear out the floor if you don't,' he adds, smirking.

The smirk slides right off his face as James glares at him before continuing his frantic pacing, mumbling under his breath.

'James...what is it?' Peter asks hesitantly. He has moved to the floor, leaning back against the end of his bed, but there is a familiar look of worry on his face. 'I mean, if there's anything, anything at all, you know...' and he is babbling again, a habit of his that has grown even more irritating as of late.

'...and obviously, you've got to tell us, I'm sure it's not so bad, I could always tell McGonagall that-'

'Actually, there is something you can do for me, Pete,' James says seriously, and Sirius leans forward to catch his next words as James leans over Peter, a glower on his face.

'What?'

'You could shut up,' James replies curtly. A mere shadow of hurt flashes over Peter's face, only to be replaced by a pathetically meek look of compliance, a result of being the target of both James's and Sirius's tempers of late. Ever since James blew up at Peter for accidentally leaking out a plan to slip laxatives into the Slytherins' morning pumpkin juice, Peter has been trying to get back into James's good books by doing anything and everything that he is told to do... something that has amused Sirius quite a bit, even if it gets tiresome at times.

Although, right now, Sirius is more disturbed by the way James is acting. He glances up at him again, taking in how he stands at the window, shoulders tense with some unspoken anxiety.

'Who is it?'

James sighs as he turns away from the window and leans against the wall.

'Who is what?'

'There's obviously something worrying you,' Sirius says, his casual tone belying his own concern. 'If it was just about any old thing that happens here, you wouldn't care so much. So it's got to be about someone.'

James stares at him for a second, then hangs his head, throwing up his hands in defeat.

'It's about Remus,' he admits.

'Remus? What about him?'

'Don't you think there's something... odd... about him?'

'Like what?'

'Like the fact that he's off to see his mother every month, but he's the one who comes back looking sick?'

Sirius shrugs. 'Maybe he's just worried about her.'

James shakes his head. 'I don't know... it just doesn't make sense...' he mutters, and he begins pacing again, this time running his hands through his hair, thinking hard as he walks. 'He shouldn't be... but it's always there...'

'Hold up, mate,' Sirius says, springing to his feet. 'What is always there?'

The look of surprise from James should be enough to put him on his guard, but he's not prepared for what he hears. 'You haven't seen the scratches?'

But Sirius has seen them, the suspicious marks on Lupin's skin that look like his arms have been clawed at, the bandages that sometimes can't stop blood from seeping through onto his shirts, the bruises that shock everyone but seem to heal abnormally quickly. And he has often thought about it, but he has always pushed away every little observation because, sometimes, intelligence can be a burden and some things are better left ignored.

'Yeah, so?' he asks, trying to keep his voice under control but failing to stop his hands from shaking. He says yeah, so to a lot of things now, especially to those things he does not want to accept.

And one of those things is accepting that there may be something very wrong with his friend that no one has noticed. Until now, that is.

James has taken off his glasses and is polishing them nervously, still looking at Sirius.

'Think about it,' he says. 'Think about today. Think about all the times when he's gone away... think about all the accidents he keeps on having.'

Sirius stares right back at James. Think about today. Today they had Herbology in the morning. Nothing awkward there. There was supposed to be Potions, but Professor Oth was sick and there was no substitute so they hadn't had a lesson. Then there was Defense Against the Dark Arts... they had finally finished studying vampires, and moved on to...

Oh. Oh.

Sirius begins to breathe just a little faster, his hands twitching nervously.

Think about all the times when he's gone away. He somehow managed to miss all the first-year Astronomy lessons when they had to study the full moon...

Think about all the accidents he keeps on having. That time in Potions when he had collapsed after being forced to drink Sirius's potion; they had been working with aconite- wolfsbane- that day...

The thought itself sends trickles of ice into his stomach, melted ice that slowly makes his whole body turn cold.

'You think he's a...? No. No. I don't believe this.'

James nods, his face grave. 'I don't want to, either. But...'

The room lapses into a fidgety silence. No one knows what to say. The silence is oppressive, frightening, leaving nothing to fill the spaces but thought. Thought. Thought that there is no way this could happen, there is absolutely no way that the boy they share a dormitory with could have managed to hide something so serious from them.

It is only Peter who finally dares to break the silence. He holds a book in his hands, old and worn like the rest of Lupin's things. He opens it, only to have the pages fall open to the chapter on werewolves, as if it had been read time and again.

'James, are you crazy? Do you even know what you're saying? There's no way they'd allow a werewolf to come to Hogwarts! You know what they're like...'

He holds up the book to demonstrate his point, and a fearsome illustration snarls at Sirius from the page.

'I'm with Peter on this one. I don't see... how... it's possible...' Sirius says slowly, almost unsure of his words. 'I don't think... there's got to be some mistake...'

'There's no mistake. It all adds up! Don't you see? We've been living with a Dark Creature...'

But Sirius doesn't want to see anything. He doesn't want to know anything else. In his head, the information is lined up perfectly, all of it pointing at the most obvious- and painful- conclusion, a conclusion that he feels he doesn't have the strength to accept.

The images all come back to him, to mock him for not having realized it sooner. Lupin's fright at his remark about hunting down werewolves. The copious number of books on Dark Creatures that lined his personal bookshelf. The torn clothes, unable to hide the bandages and old scars...

He is thrown from his thoughts when door to the dormitory opens. Lupin walks in, his bag slung over his shoulder, looking no more different than he has always looked. Sirius tries his best to turn away and act nonchalant, but he can't help but acknowledge those small details he had never noticed before: how Lupin has always worn long-sleeved shirts under his robes, even in the warmest weather; how he walks with a slight limp, now more pronounced; how he spends the days after the full-moon dragging himself around, his lethargy obvious in his movements.

'Hey guys,' Lupin calls out to them, his usual greeting. Sirius tries to answer, but finds that he can't, his tongue heavy and useless in his mouth. What can he say? It somehow doesn't seem right to ask him how he is, not now, not after this sudden revelation.

Lupin looks around at them, stopping in the middle of the room. Sirius can see the uncertainty in his face as he eyes them all, a sudden flash of fear that leaves him looking vulnerable. When he speaks, his voice is strained, quiet, hoarse.

'Er... is there anything wrong? Sirius?'

Sirius shakes his head, not knowing that else to do.

'James? Peter?'

James is silent; out of the corner of his eye, Sirius can see him moving away quietly, backing up against the wall. His fingers drum against the wall and his feet scuff the floorboards. Peter flinches slightly when he is addressed and drops the book he is holding, stamping his feet to hide the thud it makes. The noise shatters the eerie silence that has gripped the room. Suddenly, James is bustling about, jabbering away about absolutely nothing. Peter literally sprints across the room and busies himself with smoothing out the nonexistent creases in a Quidditch poster. Sirius feels himself carried away by the nervous energy that pulses over him, and he laughs out loud as he faces Lupin.

'Wrong? Nothing wrong here, Remus! Nothing, nothing at all... nothing...'

His voice trails off when he sees the stricken look on Lupin's face. He is aware of how hollow his own voice sounds, how fake his cheer, how fixed his smile. James is saying something but it doesn't quite matter, and neither does Peter, careening between the two of them on his way over to the window. All that seems to matter now is Lupin's face, the eyes growing fearful and shuttered, hands coming up before him and his stance determined and defiant.

'Nothing?'

'Nothing,' Sirius croaks.

'Don't lie to me.'

Sirius swallows nervously. Yes, there's something wrong, he wants to say. You're a ruddy werewolf! That's what's wrong! He wants to scream it out loud, get rid of the tension in his body, clear his mind. Strangely enough, he is not frightened of Lupin; it is not the fear that is making him act so awkward and unsure.

It is the doubt that is killing him, doubt and pity and perhaps even shame for not being brave enough to face a friend.

'Tell me, Sirius. Please. There's something going on, and I ruddy well don't like it.'

At this, Sirius can't help himself. He looks up, wishing that he hadn't been left to do this. Over his shoulder, he is aware that James is looking at the two of them, body tensed and at the ready, to spring forward and intervene or to move back and let things be, whichever might be needed. Peter has left the poster now and is inching his way over to the door.

Here goes.

He takes a deep breath. 'Remus... we know...'

Lupin blinks. 'Know? About what?'

'About you. Being... being a...'

Sirius cannot say it. It is James who finishes off the sentence, coming up to stand beside him, his voice carefully guarded.

'We know you're a werewolf.'

There. Done. Lupin stiffens visibly, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. It is a long moment before anyone moves away, though; every last nerve is on edge, every stare is met by an equally hostile one.

'Remus?' Sirius finally ventures, reaching out to clap a hand on the other boy's shoulder. Instead, he finds his gesture brushed away, Lupin glaring at him.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' he says, his manner brusque. He turns to go, but not before Sirius has reached out again, this time locking his fingers around Lupin's elbow, drawing him back.

'Remus, please don't do this...'

'If this is your idea of a joke, Sirius, it's not funny.'

James tries to speak to him next. 'Remus, we're not joking this time. We know. Stop hiding from us.'

Lupin flares up, snatching his arm away from Sirius and shoving him away. 'You don't know anything! You can't... no. No! I'm telling you, you're wrong!' he yells, backing away, going towards the door, stopping when he finds Peter blocking it. He looks around wildly, trapped by the three who are closing in on him. His face betrays his obvious fear, but even more than that, it declares his refusal to let them into his life and help him.

The mere sight of Lupin in such a state unnerves Sirius, and he instinctively reaches for the ring around his finger. He twists it around, once, twice, taking it all in. James is trying to talk with him but Lupin is adamant, almost vicious in his denial.

Sirius feels the snakes of his ring against the soft skin of his fingers.

Twist.

Peter is shaking terribly as he watches, not daring to come close to the now almost-hysterical Lupin.

Twist.

Lupin pushes James away, draws out his wand and thrusts it into his chest.

'Don't make me do this.'

Twist.

'Stop this! Remus, please, don't hide from us...'

Twist.

James draws his own wand, a spell on the tip of his tongue.

Twist.

A flash reflects off the ring, forces the glare into Sirius's eyes. He blinks, then looks down at it. The snakes gleam, their eyes twinkling, their silver bodies twisting and turning...

Sirius quickly advances on Lupin. It is his wand that sent out the spell, barely missing the top of James's head and instead heading straight out the window. James is sprawled on the floor, falling over himself in his attempt to get out of the line of the spell, still shuffling back, trying to get away. Lupin stares at him for a second, then turns and points the wand at Sirius, his breathing erratic, hair stuck to his forehead, eyes almost feral.

'I won't have you saying that! Take it back! TAKE IT BACK!'

'Remus! Calm down! Denying it isn't going to stop you from being-'

'DON'T YOU SAY IT!'

Sirius feels a twinge of remorse over what he is about to do. But he knows that while Lupin can deny all their accusations, he cannot deny solid evidence. He palms the ring so that it is hidden from view, takes another step towards Lupin, speaking softly.

'Remus, I'm really sorry about this. I really am...'

Quickly, before Lupin can react, he grabs the wand and tosses it over his shoulder. At the same time, he claps his hand down over Lupin's, holding it there, feeling the silver ring heat up between them, skin softening and tearing; he stares, transfixed, as Lupin screams and pulls his hand away.

'I'm sorry...'

Lupin falls to the floor and curls up into a ball, clutching his injured hand. There is a blistered ring etched into the skin and a terrible stench of burnt flesh rising. Peter and James stare at Sirius, then at Lupin. Sirius himself feels his stomach turning, his legs buckling beneath him as he drops to his knees.

'I'm sorry, Remus,' he whispers, 'but you weren't going to tell us. I didn't want to hurt you... I'm sorry...'

To his surprise, though, Lupin doesn't lash out at him or shout like he expects. Instead, he finds the boy looking at him, eyes weary, his expression miserable. He holds out his hand to show the burn, already healing, the blisters bubbling away to shiny, red skin, then puckering as it scars over, waxy and light. Peter stifles a gasp.

'It's all true?'

Lupin nods, trembling. 'I didn't want you to know,' he says in a plaintive voice.

Peter kneels before him and shuffles over, taking the hand in his. He is cautious, curious, but his eyes show no fear, only a reflection of Lupin's sadness.

'Why? Why did you hide it? Why didn't you tell us?'

'I didn't want you to hate me for being a Dark Creature.'

The answer is so soft that for a second, Sirius thinks he has heard wrongly. He flinches at the word 'Dark Creature'; it is such a harsh word, one that brings to mind bloodlust and fear. Something to be scared of, something to hate. But try as he might, Sirius cannot bring himself to hate Lupin; the wolf is not the boy.

... we all have our secrets...

The wolf is not the boy. But no-one seems to understand that... has no-one ever tried to...?

But then James is helping Lupin up, a brotherly arm around his shoulders, Peter placing a careful hand over Lupin's burnt one. After a second, Sirius too leans in, taking Lupin's other hand in his to show his support.

'We don't hate you, Remus. We don't hate you at all.'

*