CHAPTER VI.

On Sirius's seventeenth birthday, Lily approached Remus's usual spot at the Gryffindor table. Breakfast, he thought as he laughed at James's antics, had never been more exciting.

"I see your friends are determined to go out with a bang," Lily commented, plopping down beside him.

"Indeed," Remus told her, sipping his tea. "Though, one should be careful not to assume that I am separate from them in that regard."

Lily just snorted. "And to think. . . you, a prefect."

"James is Head Boy," Remus countered.

"A decision that was made under the influence of the Confundus Charm, I'm sure," Lily replied, eliciting a snort from Remus as she adjusted her own Head Girl badge.

He watched the spot at the Slytherin table just over James's shoulder where Zelda ate breakfast with her friends.

"Well," Lily continued, drawing Remus's focus back to her, "I asked James if he wanted to go with me to Slughorn's Christmas party, and he said he would but I decided to spare him. You know how he feels about that club."

"Him and Sirius both," Remus said as he drizzled syrup onto an unsuspecting waffle. "I seem to remember them referring to the Slug Club dinners as a. . . what was it? Oh yes — 'an auction for prized pureblood ponies.'"

Lily sighed a laugh, shaking her head. "You know, if I weren't a member I'd agree with you," she said. "But anyway — would you like to come with me, as a friend-date? James thinks it's a good idea, he told me he'd rather run Quidditch drills during that time anyway."

Remus stared at her, bewildered. "I'm not a member of the Slug Club."

"I know," Lily said. "You don't need a membership to attend, just a date who's got one." She eyed him with that doe-like expression of hers. "And I could use a friend to commiserate with during the party. Merlin knows nobody else there is part of the sort of crowd I like to hang around."

"I see," said Remus slowly. "Well. . . my dress robes are a bit shabby, and I'd have to ask my mum to send them, but — oh, why not?"

"Wonderful!" Lily exclaimed, getting to her feet as she gathered her books and satchel. She all but flounced away, stopping only to say, "Thanks, Remus! I'll see you in Ancient Runes later!"

Remus only shook his head fondly, wondering in the back of his mind if dress robes were even something he could pull off, and quietly considering the unlikely possibility that perhaps he might be able to talk to Zelda at the Christmas party.

Oh, what his friends might say!

━━

Dear Mum,

How are you? Things are fine here. Sorry I haven't written in a few weeks, the teachers have been hammering our heads open with lectures about N.E.W.T.s (those are the seventh year exams, Nastily Exhausting Wizarding tests — hilarious name, I know) and careers and such.

I appreciated the box of Maltesers you sent over! Sometimes Wizarding chocolate just isn't that good, but I've enclosed a bar of Honeyduke's classic anyway since I know you like it.

Anyway, I'm writing now because I was wondering if you could send that old set of dress robes I wore to Dad's cousin's wedding last summer? There's a Christmas party being thrown by one of the teachers and my friend Lily asked me to go with her. Don't worry, not in that way — she's seeing James now, and they're smitten with each other. It's slightly revolting, and he's become significantly more annoying as a result of that and also because he's now Head Boy. I don't know if I mentioned that to you before leaving for school, but if I didn't, you should know he's actually really good at it. Sirius and Peter are doing alright too. All three send their regards.

Last month's moon was alright, nothing out of the ordinary and no new injuries. (This was, Remus considered whilst writing this sentence, a blatant lie — running around with three illegal animagi at the full moon was anything but ordinary.) Tomorrow's moon should be about the same. Madam Pomfrey says I'm doing good, anyway, so she seems to think so too.

Give my love to Dad,
Remus

━━

"Bancroft's outside again," said an annoyed voice, and Remus opened his eyes to the sight of James, Sirius, and Peter standing over him. Peter, having just delivered this report, was looking at James and Sirius. None of them were looking down at Remus.

In short: the usual sight that greeted Remus the morning after a full moon.

He groaned quietly, dragging a hand over his face. No new scars there, he thought as he mentally took stock of the feelings and sensations in his body. Other than his left ankle, which throbbed and smarted deep in his bone, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

"Is she demanding to be let in?" Remus croaked.

All three of his friends looked down at him — Peter was the first to smile. "Good morning!"

"There he is," James said softly.

"Hey, Moony," Sirius said, then frowned. "I dunno know why Pomfrey took an apprentice if she knows that Dumbledore doesn't want your furry little problem getting out."

"Search me," Remus mumbled, moving to sit up. His leg was bandaged, over the spot on his ankle that hurt. "Did I fall last night?"

"You tried eating a squirrel," Sirius said, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder before he did so. "I decided to take mercy on you, but convincing you not to eat it was tough."

"Well. . . thanks for that, I suppose," Remus replied. His throat was dry and scratchy. "Do any of you have water? And where's Madam Pomfrey?"

"Outside," James said, handing him a glass of water from the bedside table. "Trying to convince Bancroft to leave."

For the first time, Remus considered what he might do if Zelda actually found out. He had always been rather terrible at thinking more than just a few steps ahead at any given time, which he supposed  wwas a rather Gryffindor-like quality (impulsivity was a trait that came with the kind of courageous nerve needed to be a Gryffindor, Remus knew). But as he lay in bed with his friends hovering over him, he couldn't stop considering the look on her face. Or the possibility that she might go running to the rest of her house.

He banished that ridiculous thought the moment it appeared in his head. Of all people, Zelda Bancroft could keep a secret — but only if it served her. Remus tried not to shudder as he wondered when he grew to know her so well.

It's only fair, a vindictive voice in his head told him then. To trade a secret for a secret.

He couldn't tell her, of course. But he had no doubt she would find out eventually.

"She saw me last time," James said into the miserable silence. "When I pretended to have a broken arm. I could go out there — play it up. Make it seem like a chronic pain sort of thing, or a terrible illness that makes me grow extra bones." He grins. "Think of the possibilities!"

Peter snorted derisively. "Right. And what about Quidditch? Are you planning on quitting the team?"

James frowned, like he had failed to consider this. But then, Peter always had a way of thinking further ahead than any of them, if only in that quiet, unassuming way of his.

"Well," James said slowly, "I guess I could just. . . I dunno —"

Sirius shook his head. "Give it up, mate." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his stocky chest. "We'll just have to threaten her, like she did to us. Or maybe we'll just get lucky and she'll assume Prongs is the werewolf."

Remus, who was still exhausted but listening intently as he nibbled on a sandwich from Peter, could not help letting out a quiet snicker at this implication. He pushed down the darker thought that came with it, the knowledge that if James ever were to become what Remus was, it would be no one's fault but his.

"But we don't have any leverage to threaten her with!" James protested. "You heard what she said — she knows we're hiding something, and she saw me last month when we were here even if the rest of you were behind the bed curtain with Moony. If she puts two and two together, she'll notice I'm never gone the days before or after the full moons, but that Remus usually is."

Sirius sighed. "You're right. The problem with Slytherins is that them being cunning isn't just hearsay."

"If only we did have something on her," Peter mumbled. In his hands was a chocolate frog box. He appeared to be fiddling with the opening.

Remus considered this, and then blew out a breath as the pieces slid into place.

"We do," he said, then winced as, all at once, he remembered his promise — his vow, more like — to Zelda. His friends all turned to look at him, only deepening Remus's surety that he was far worse of a person than he knew they thought he was. Inexplicably, the memory of that day by the lake (Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants? James shouted in his mind) rushed back to him, and he felt just as he did all those times he'd buried his nose in his book and pretended not to notice. Remus felt his chest constrict with shame.

"We do?" Peter asked. James and Sirius looked similarly confused.

Desperately searching for the right words, Remus licked his lips, hyper-aware of the fact that his mouth suddenly seemed to have run completely dry. Tell anyone and you're in for it, Lupin. He had known then, as an eleven-year-old, that Zelda's threat had been empty at the time. It most likely still was.

But he had an inexplicable desire to protect her anyway, despite knowing that she almost definitely didn't need it, and that protection from the wrath of the Slytherin boys in their year was something he couldn't provide. Remus knew exactly what would happen should word of her parentage get back to the likes of Avery and Mulciber and their cronies.

She would be done for.

And, as much as he loved his friends, they were not known for their talent to keep their mouths shut.

"Yes," Remus finally said. "Or rather, I do." He paused. "She has. . . a secret. I found it out by accident years ago, and she made me swear not to tell."

A crease had appeared between James's eye, but he didn't say anything.

Sirius leaned forward. "So you've been keeping a Slytherin's secret, then?" he asked, but he didn't sound angry — just intrigued. "Why?"

"Because she was afraid," Remus replied before he knew exactly what he was saying. He thought dimly that he might not have realized it himself until that moment. "She was terrified of it getting out, so I swore not to tell." He sighed. "I'll talk to her. I'll tell her to give it a rest."

"What will you say?" Peter asked.

"I'm not sure," was all Remus could bring himself to reply. He hated that every word was true.

━━

The dream that came the night after the full moons was, as always, unavoidable: the images of the night before, of tearing through the forest and screaming as his flesh tore, never came to him in waking. The memories of the full moons, stilted and twisted with the hazy fog of being un-human and wholly not himself, always returned as he slept, as the pain potions wore off the following night.

Remus woke with a gasp, pushing himself up on his elbows, and stared, bleary-eyed, at his red and gold bed curtains. He could feel his hair plastered to his face in a cold sweat.

His stomach gave a sickening swoop as the image of the moon, far above him, floated into his mind's eye — and he remembered screaming at it, screaming to the forest, to the world, to be let out of his wolfish prison. In the days following, what Remus knew sounded to outsiders like a howl always registered in his memory as a scream, tearing from his recently transformed throat as he flung it up towards the moonlit, starless sky.

With a sigh, he sunk back into his pillow, blinking sleep from his eyes as his sight adjusted to the dark.

This time, his dreams had not just been memories of the previous night's full moon — instead, his brain was fogged with images, voices, and Remus realized that his sleeping brain had clearly been catastrophizing as it anticipated the conversation he'd promised his friends he would have with Zelda.

I'll talk to her, he'd assured them. Remus wondered if he'd been high on pain potions then. It was the only explanation for his reckless offer.

How would he approach her? Surely not when she was with her friends, those two girls who always tailed her — Malfoy and Meadowes, the pureblood heiress and the Slytherin Keeper. When would she ever be alone, or alone enough for Remus to sneak in a quick conversation unnoticed? She had managed to get him on his own back in their first year, when she'd made him swear to keep her secret, but Remus had no doubt that Zelda was far cleverer than he.

And then there was the matter of the conversation itself. What was he supposed to say? Stop going to your apprenticeship on the days of the full moon, and if you don't, we'll tell everyone in the school you're Muggle-born.

No, Remus mused deliriously as his eyes drifted closed once more. No, that didn't seem quite right.

He decided as he fell asleep to improvise, and hope that it didn't bite him in the arse when he did so.

━━

Dress robes arrived in a lumpy package from his mother just a few days later, accompanied by a letter wishing him luck at the party. When said party finally arrived, bringing the beginning of December with it, Remus found himself surveying his reflection in the mirror tacked up on the wall of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory with something like trepidation.

"You look positively dashing," Sirius declared. "I shall lament my own absence. O! How I long to see you sulk on the edges of the party! How destroyed I am to be forced to miss you making yourself a fool!" He draped his arm over his forehead and pretended to swoon.

Remus scowled. "Well," he said, "at least they fit. I was worried I'd grown out of them since I wore them last."

From his spot on his bed, Peter piped up. "Who are you taking, anyway, Moons?"

"Lily, if you must know," Remus said waspishly, if only to get under James's skin.

James, however, seemed to already know this, as he glanced up from the Marauder's Map, gave a noncommittal "Hm? Oh — yeah," and returned to perusing the parchment splayed out on his bed. He was sitting on the one four-poster bed that had no bedding on it — he often came back to the Gryffindor dorms, despite having happily claimed his own room in the Head Students' dormitories back in September. Sirius, who was leaning against the doorframe, merely raised an eyebrow.

"What about that girl you fancy, Remus?" Peter asked, ever the picture of innocence when Remus turned to give him a half-hearted glare. To tack on a bit more teasing, Peter added, "Why didn't you just ask her?"

"Girl?" said Sirius, smirking. "You fancy a girl?"

"I told you all so in fifth year, you know, and it's been two years since then," Remus said, studiously avoiding his friends' gazes. "There is no evidence to suggest I fancy anyone, these days."

"Pete's always had a better memory than the rest of us, I suppose. Fits he would remember you saying that," said James, who was now sitting up straighter. Across from him, Peter positively glowed, beaming at the praise. "Who is it, Moons? Mary, perhaps? Or Marlene?"

"No one," Remus lied. "Honest. I used to think one of the —" he hesitated, but only for a half second "— one of the Slytherin girls was pretty, but — and I know this may come as a shock — it turns out personality matters far more to me."

The three boys sniggered at his joke, and the tension in Remus's shoulders loosened just a little, if only because they would now forever be off his case. For Remus, sarcasm always worked to avoid emotion.

"A Slytherin, Moony?" James said weakly, watching Remus adjust his dress robes. "Really?" He paused. "Hang on. . . it isn't — it isn't Bancroft, is it?"

Remus ignored him. "I don't fancy anyone these days," he repeated tonelessly.

"Well, she is a looker," Sirius reasoned, looking somewhat uneasy all the same. "Just remember looks aren't everything, Moony, despite what my appearance may imply. . ." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You still won't tell us her supposed 'secret,' then?"

Remus just sighed. "No, Sirius."

━━

The party was, predictably, in full swing when he and Lily arrived. She'd taken his arm outside the common room, dressed in bottle-green dress robes that Remus was sure James would drool over given the chance.

Remus knew Lily was pretty, in an objective sort of way, but he'd never fancied her — even if all the boys in their year probably had at some point. To him, she was just Lily: unfailingly kind, bafflingly brilliant, and James's greatest weakness.

"So," Lily said when they pushed open the doors to the dungeon where the part was being held. "Fancy a drink?"

"Merlin, yes," Remus sighed. "I could go for some firewhiskey, honestly — just don't tell Sirius I said that."

Lily giggled. "How about champagne?"

"A good middle ground," Remus conceded, and let Lily lead him to the drinks table.

"Ah, Miss Evans!" boomed Slughorn's voice. Remus jumped as the portly professor approached them, and a placating smile appeared on Lily's face.

"Professor Slughorn," she greeted. "Lovely party. Thank you for the invite. You know Remus, of course?"

"Yes, yes, of course — welcome, welcome — hope you enjoy the party, Romulus!"

And he left, waddling and clearly somewhat drunk. Lily snorted and handed Remus a champagne flute.

"Well," Remus said into the ensuing silence, "at least he knows his Roman myths. My mother would be happy to know her naming choices were noticed by someone."

Lily hummed in agreement, and she looked for a moment like she was considering what to say, but then seemed to change her mind. She looked up at Remus; he noticed, in manner befitting a field observer, that her dress matched her eyes. "You don't mind if I go mingle, do you? Slughorn wanted to introduce me to some potions master, I should to follow him, wherever it is he's gone off to. . ."

"Yeah, go ahead," Remus said. He held up his glass. "Not to worry — my champagne will keep me company."

Lily shot him a grateful smile before disappearing into the crowd. If Remus was honest with himself, he'd always felt far more comfortable standing on the edges of crowds, and though being friends with James and Sirius might have urged him halfway out of his shell, it didn't entirely.

Remus watched the Slytherins flock to each other, each aristocratically featured boy with an equally noble-looking girl on his arm, and snorted quietly into his drink. Prized ponies, indeed. Remus wondered if any of Sirius's family married for love — if his cousin Narcissa had married the Malfoy boy for his fortune, or if the Bellatrix he spoke so darkly of had happily agreed to her match with the elder Lestrange brother, or if, indeed, Sirius's own parents harboured any affection for one another.

Remus's gaze found the slight, pale boy without meaning to. Regulus Black was loitering on the edge of the party, gunmetal eyes taking stock of the scene around him.

While surveying the crowd, Remus tried not to let his eyes linger on anyone for too long, but this proved especially difficult the moment he spotted Zelda — she was arm in arm with a Hufflepuff boy whose name Remus couldn't remember but who he knew was a pureblood, and she was chatting amicably with Lucius Malfoy's younger sister.

And, Remus thought as his heart skidded to a halt, she looked exquisite.

The word bubbled into his brain without him meaning to, but it described her perfectly. Remus felt his cheeks heat up, but he couldn't look away.

She wore a bluish-silver gown that brushed the floor, a mere slip of a thing, embellished with what Remus thought looked like tiny diamonds but what were more than likely beads made of a crystal of some sort. The middle part was tight, and the dress had only straps for sleeves, showing off lean, willowy arms brushed with countless freckles. It was tied by what seemed to be a criss-crossing array of ribbons, and was longer in the back, seeming to sparkle under the light.

Remus was no fashion expert, but he decided then that Zelda must be one. Her hair was elegantly coiffed up, with several loose but precisely placed curls draping the base of neck.

He looked away, blushing furiously, forcing himself to focus on the smooth stone floors. It would not do to stare — someone was bound to notice.

And notice someone did.

"Enthralled, Lupin?" sneered a voice, and Remus had to resist the urge to groan as he registered Severus Snape's greasy appearance.

"Can I help you, Severus?" Remus asked, voice tight and teeth clenched. If his friends knew that Snape was speaking to him, they would surely throw a fit in that unmistakably riotous way of theirs, seething about how Snape should get expelled just for talking to Remus after the incident in their fifth year.

Remus, for his part, was mostly indifferent. He had learned to ignore the jab of fear whenever Snape passed, for he knew that Dumbledore's threat of expulsion should Remus's secret be exposed was far too great and entirely literal.

Here, Remus noted as he surveyed Snape, was someone who knew his secret. Much like what he knew about Zelda, only without the significant detail of Remus's inescapable feelings.

Secrets, Remus considered, were not as few or far between at Hogwarts as was preferable.

"Only wondering where your. . . date has run off to," Snape drawled. "However did you convince her to go with you?"

Remus made to answer, not quite sure what he was supposed to say to something like that, when Lily's voice made him look up.

"Severus," Lily said. She looked positively thunderous, and her formal getup did nothing to make her look less formidable. Snape, too, seemed to realize this when he turned to look at her. "Please stop borrowing him."

Remus took this moment to sidle away, setting down his champagne flute and moving to inspect the dessert table — but his appetite for something sweet was instantly lost as a flash of silver and blueish-grey made him look up. As he watched, Zelda seemed to positively flee from the party, detaching herself from her date and nearly slamming her goblet down on a nearby table as she rushed out.

As he watched her leave, Remus frowned. She looked pale and frightened, like she'd seen something she wanted to escape from.

This, he knew, was his chance to speak with her. Planned speech (which he most definitely did not have) be damned.

Remus followed, ignoring the voice in his head that told him this was a horrible idea, and wondered idly as he left the party when he had turned into the sort of bloke who followed pretty girls out of parties.