Harry leaned back in his chair, taking another sip from his butterbeer, which added to the soft contented glow warming his stomach. The morning had passed so quickly, the stories of Remus and Sirius's first year tumbling out of their mouths. Harry couldn't stop himself from grinning at most of them, the ways Sirius and James (and sometimes Remus) got themselves into trouble.

There were the endless pranks played on Severus Snape (while Remus looked slightly guilty whenever these were recounted, Harry didn't mind much); James and Sirius sneaking off to the Quidditch Pitch at night to fly around, showing up to class in the morning exhausted but cheerful; the way Remus was the only one who took notes in class, and was brilliant at everything except Potions, in which James and Sirius would take turns fixing his brews when he wasn't looking (a mild exclamation from Remus here); the fact that Sirius would try to charm Professor McGonagall whenever she caught them making trouble, and the fact that it never worked; the time Remus had felt so badly about transfiguring a poor beetle into a button that he had tucked it into his pocket and pretended it had escaped.

These were the things Harry craved, craved to learn so badly that it almost physically hurt. He had spent countless hours imagining these types of things, and he carefully stored every memory away, for consideration later. He was reminded of his younger self, sitting in front of the Mirror of Erised, drinking in the images of the family he might have known.

But beneath all this, beneath the happiness burning away inside him, were the undertones of fear and pain and anger that both Remus and Sirius had lived with. He felt something fierce well up within him whenever they said these things, when Sirius spoke about his family, hands clenching into fists in his lap, or Remus talked about hiding his transformations from his friends, unable to stop the loneliness from creeping into his voice- something almost like protectiveness, mixed with an empathy so sharp it stung.

It was past midday when they had finished recounting their first year, both of them jumping in and adding more stories the entire time. They had all finished a round of laughing—Sirius and James hadn't studied for their exams, but both of them had earned top marks, much to the annoyance of Remus, who had spent the entire weekend shut up in the library surrounded by books. But now the threat of summer vacation stretched out before them, and they all felt the slightly somber chill at the thought that Sirius now faced the entire summer at the gloomy house they all sat in now.

"More drinks?" Sirius said, breaking the silence that they had all settled in without noticing.

"I'll help you," Harry offered, but Sirius told him to stay put and headed off into the kitchen. Harry noticed Remus follow him. He knew they would be talking about him, and the thought further dampened his mood.

He couldn't ignore it forever, he supposed. As much fun as he had had today, as satisfying as it had been to learn more about his father and Sirius and Remus, there was the fact of the Dursleys looming over him, of the fact that no matter what Sirius said, Dumbledore would make him go back.

Sirius heard Remus stepping up behind him. He turned, bottle of butterbeer in hand. He waited for Remus to speak, but he didn't say anything, instead his eyes surveying the kitchen with a gleam of dislike.

"Forgot how much I hate this place," he said.

"I haven't."

Remus smiled slightly, one corner of his mouth twisting up a bit. Sirius watched his finger drumming against the countertop.

"What are we going to do?"

"He can't go back there, Remus," Sirius said, running his hands through his hair.

"I know," Remus said. "He looks awful." He paused. "But can't we explain this all to Dumbledore? He wouldn't make him go back if he knew—"

"Why doesn't he know, Remus?" His voice was harsher than he had intended, but he couldn't stop the bitterness from coloring his tone. "He's bloody Dumbledore, and he has no idea that Harry's getting knocked around in his own home?"

"You don't think he kn—"

"I don't know, but I don't like it." He felt the familiar anger pumping through his veins, and he longed to reach out, to slam a fist into the wall, to do something to stop the way he was feeling.

"I should've known," he spat out, anger at himself now mixing with his anger at Dumbledore. "I'm his bloody godfather, I've heard him say how much he hates the place—"

"I should've known, too," Remus said quietly, looking down at his hands. "We all should've—watched more carefully."

"Except we thought Dumbledore was watching for us," Sirius muttered, hands clenching into fists. "I still don't—I won't let him make Harry go back."

"No," Remus said softly. "I won't either." He paused. "But we still need to tell him. Someone's going to notice he's not at the house. Soon."

"Who's watching him tomorrow?"

"I'm supposed to."

"Why? You were just watching today."

Remus was quiet. "I'm not very useful a lot of the time. I need to help when I can."

"Remus—"

But Remus shook his head, the tight look crossing his face that Sirius knew meant he didn't want to discuss it, at least not then.

"Can we wait another day to decide, then?"

Remus looked at Sirius.

"Okay."

Harry watched them come back in, noticed the tension in both of their shoulders. He had heard Sirius raise his voice, words muffled but the noise still there. He hated the feeling that they had been arguing about him, that he had ruined the nice time they had been having.

Harry took the butterbeer they passed him, sipped at it, then set it down.

"So," he began. He cleared his throat. "Someone's going to notice I'm missing, aren't they?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged looks.

"Well, I'm actually the one who's supposed to be watching you tomorrow. We thought—it might be nice to wait until then to figure out what we want to do."

Harry relaxed slightly, though the dull ache of dread didn't go away completely.

"Okay," he said, taking another sip of his drink. He threw a glance of Sirius, noticed the dark look in his eye, and looked away again.

"So," Remus began. "Want to hear about our second year?"

And Harry nodded.

Remus knew his friends were noticing.

He was thinking this more and more often. He noticed the looks James and Sirius exchanged whenever he mentioned going to visit his mother, noticed Sirius watching him for signs of a limp and asking him why he had scratches or bruises, noticed that even Peter had started giving him funny looks.

He didn't know what to do. He felt panicked all the time. Even when things were fine, when he was just sitting in the Common Room with his friends, the panic wouldn't go away. He would look at their faces, bent over their homework and illuminated by the fire, and imagine their friendship being snatched away from him. He almost wished he had listened to his father's advice that he keep his distance from people.

He did begin keeping his distance, in small ways at first, and then in full-out avoidance. He just couldn't think of what else to do. The thought of telling them the truth was too much—he knew the sight of the disgust and revulsion and anger that would cross their faces would be too much for him to bear.

So he started going to the library, just once or twice a week at first and then eventually every night. He'd slip off right after dinner and stay there until closing, sometimes nodding off over the tops of his books, waking up in a cold sweat to Madam Pince's sour voice.

He missed his friends terribly. He missed the way James and Sirius would tease each other, the ways they would come up with the stupidest pranks imaginable and try to sweet talk Professor McGonagall and the way she would just assign them detention, but was trying not to smile too. He missed long nights in front of the fire, when they would usually have to help Peter with his homework but none of them really minded. He missed the way Sirius would leave him pieces of chocolate in his bedside table and the way he would tease him for wearing mismatched socks.

And he would consider going back, of just telling them the truth, but that never lasted long. He knew what it meant to be what he was. So he just stayed in his corner of the library, trying to still his panic with books and homework.

Remus was sitting at his usual table when he heard the scrape of the chair across from him.

"Mind if I sit here?"

It was Lily Evans, a stack of books in her arms. She looked pale, worrying her lip between her teeth.

"Go ahead," said Remus, moving aside some of his things. She gave him a small smile and set her books down.

"Are you alright?" He asked her.

"Yeah," she said. "I just—Sev keeps getting mad at me." She sniffled.

"I'm sorry," Remus said. He wished he could help her.

"Thanks," she said, and smiled at him again.

They didn't talk much, mostly working on their homework in silence. After that she would join him sometimes, and Remus felt a little less alone. He hoped Lily felt the same way.

"This is getting out of hand," Sirius said. He was sitting with James in their bedroom; Peter was downstairs in the Common Room finishing up some homework with Frank Longbottom.

"I know," James said, tossing up an old golf ball into the air and catching it. "But he runs off every time I try to talk to him."

Sirius sighed. "Me too."

They regarded each other glumly.

"We have to tell him we know."

"Do we?"

"Yes," said James, tossing the golf ball up again.

"It doesn't matter," Sirius said.

"I know that. We have to make sure he does."

"You're right." Sirius paused. "If we can get him to stay in the same room with us for longer than two minutes."

They had worked it out a few weeks ago. They'd been thinking it for longer than that, of course, but it somehow seemed too serious a thing to think without solid proof. Then they'd started keeping track of the days he visited his mother, and they'd checked out books from the library (sneaking into the restricted section for some of them), and the conclusion had pooled in their minds, sticky and certain.

It had been a hard thing to think about, but of course it didn't change anything. Remus was still Remus. It hurt Sirius to think of him dealing with all that on his own. From what he'd read, it seemed awful.

"We should probably tell Peter at some point, too," James said, breaking their silence.

Sirius snorted. "Let him work it out himself."

They lapsed back into silence.

Remus rummaged through his bag—it wasn't there. He'd have to go back to the room. He sighed, then began shoving his things back into his bag. He'd have to be quick; he knew James and Sirius usually went down to the Quidditch pitch on Thursday nights, but there was always the off-chance Peter might have stayed behind instead of deciding to watch them.

He crept upstairs, peeking inside their room to make sure the coast was clear. He grabbed his Potions book and was on his way out when he spotted it, poking out from underneath Sirius's bed.

Recognizing Werewolves.

It felt like the room was spinning. He felt his Potions book slide out of his hands and hit the floor.

His legs seemed to cross the room of their own accord. Hands shaking, he picked up the werewolf book. It was huge, ancient, bound in thick leather; he was sure it was full of hate, of vicious insults about what a monster he was. He wanted to fling it across the room, but it felt glued to his hands.

He didn't know how long he sat like that, frozen on the floor with the book in his hands. He only knew that someone was kneeling next to him, tugging the book out of his hands and leading him over to his bed.

"Remus."

It was Sirius.

"Remus, it's okay. It doesn't matter to us."

The words came to him as if from far away. He tried to answer but the words felt stuck in his throat. He focused on Sirius's hand, rubbing smooth circles into his back.

And eventually he unstuck himself, and his worries poured from his mouth, and he twisted his hands in his lap. But Sirius was uncharacteristically calm, and he answered all Remus's worries, and he was oddly gentle, and soon they were joined by James and Peter (who was confused, but handled things surprisingly well).

And eventually they were laughing again, and passing around a box of Every Flavor Beans, and Sirius produced a chocolate frog for Remus.