Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure werewolves, like zombies, are under the Creative Commons licence. This particular werewolf, though… Not sure. In the films he looks more like the Chupacabra, or a Were-Mexican Hairless. Not so in this fic. But I wouldn't claim to own him (or anyone else, rly).

In this Chapter: It's the start of Third Year for one Remus Lupin, and he arrives at King's Cross thinking he's got school figured out.

Only, he clearly doesn't.

It starts when he notices something different about Sirius, which upsets his routine (which is sacred, or should be, or was). Next, he notices something different about himself. It's not normal for one to want to rip one's best friend to shreds and eat him, is it? And what, exactly, is Sirius doing, trying to get past the Whomping Willow during a full moon?

Not Wolfstar because I don't ship in general, but I find it's scarily fitting as a pre-Wolfstar fic. It's also Pre-Runaway and plays in that AU.

First Moon: Ruination of Remus' Relaxing Routine

The start of a new year at Hogwarts is always a thing of hope, of excitement, and he'd be lying if he thought he'd ever get used to it, but he has. There is no loss of excitement when he's packing his trunk for the upcoming school year, when he's folding his new robes (new for him, at least) and lovingly placing all his treasures inside with his customary precision. He is bubbling with anticipation as his parents side-along apparate him to Platform 9 3/4, can't wait to get on the train.

None of that is different on September first, 1973. However, there is a new element that has been added to this day. Today, he knows what to expect. Today, at last, there will be no surprises.

Remus Lupin already shares his life with the most unpredictable, deadly creature he has ever met, one that makes every full moon something volatile and erratic, usually in the worst way. He doesn't need any more of that in his life, thankyouverymuch.

He remembers his First Year vividly, but it was a strange sort of rush throughout: he was so nervous he hadn't been able to sleep properly for weeks before, then he couldn't believe he was on the train at last, and everything was new, full of wonder and anticipation. He'd met James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and hundreds of other kids like him — or not quite, but they shared traits 26 days out of 28 — and he'd actually, really, made friends. That entire year had been memorable, especially when said friends had discovered his secret. They hadn't freaked out, but Remus had.

As far as surprises go, he hopes that will be the biggest of them all. For like, ever.

Second Year was exciting too, because he saw his best friends again and knew he was going home, and it was also new, because at first glance they had all looked so different and it had taken him (and the wolf) a while to get used to that, too.

But he has.

It's Third Year, though, and seeing Pete pinker and rounder and James taller is part of what he can expect. This Summer Remus, too, has put on a couple of inches, a handful of pounds. The only one who seems to shrink rather than grow, lose weight rather than gain it by the time he steps on the Platform is Sirius, but that too, has become a thing Remus accepts as fact. He'll fill out and catch up with James by Halloween as he always does, and Remus likes this predictability, likes it when he knows what to expect.

Remus sees his Routine in the compartment Peter will pick out for them — it's the same they had in First Year and the one they probably will occupy every year until they graduate. As always, Peter is the first to arrive, weighed down by the food Mrs. Pettigrew sends along for the ride, and Remus spots him wrestling the Snack Basket into the train the instant his feet materialise on the Platform.

He sees Routine in the usual Black Commotion a little further away, where Sirius yanks himself away from his furious-looking father's grip and his owl flutters up, hooting in alarm — he's refused to put Launcelot in a cage this time — and as usual, banishes his trunk to the pile with a flick of his wand and escapes to the far end of the platform. He fairly storms off to the Potters, who welcome him warmly and with smiles on their faces, and Sirius gives himself a shake and nods and smiles too, as he always does.

If it weren't for them, Remus muses as he takes one end of his trunk and his father takes the other, Sirius would probably blow the train up before it has even left the station. Privately, he thinks Sirius is just being over-dramatic, like his entire family (and there's no shortage of Blacks or half-Blacks at Hogwarts, so he's had ample evidence to support his way of thinking); that too, is something he has come to understand and expect.

Routine is everywhere except on the First Years' faces, and Remus hugs his parents goodbye and nods at the expected myriad last-minute reminders and advice, and don't forget to see the nurse upon arrival, and don't just gorge yourself on meat— vegetables are important too, and, don't forget to write, we will miss you, and come home for Christmas this year, won't you?

He joins James, who is, as usual, suntanned and happy and full of plans to make the Welcoming Feast a blast — which they never put into action because it's the Welcoming Feast and thus, sacred — and Sirius who is, as usual, too pale, too thin and almost feral-looking. Owl on his shoulder aside, the only thing that's different from any other year is his smell.

Under the faint scent of the designer soap and fancy oils, there's something about Sirius that makes Remus bristle. Something different. He doesn't know what it is. Hadn't expected that at all.

He doesn't like it.

Neither does the wolf.

This is unusual because of its intensity, as if whatever is cause for unease is right there under Sirius' skin, and the wolf rears up and wants nothing better than to rip it off and look underneath to satisfy its curiosity.

And this isn't usual at all. Remus hasn't fantasised about eating his friends since Christmas in First Year. Even the wolf usually sees them as friends and has long stopped wanting anything, where they are concerned.

Remus watches Sirius as he kneads the back of his neck — another habitual thing to see — and climbs on the train, exclaiming something about dibs on the meatball sandwiches Peter's mum sent along, but not the cheese ones, and things fall back into place as though stepping into the train is enough to plunge them back into a predictable sequence of events.

Remus doesn't even stop to wonder how Sirius knows what the sandwiches were made of upon getting on the train, not until way later. For now, he makes his way across the packed corridor to the very last compartment with the rest, asks Sirius why the hell he didn't cage his owl like he's supposed to.

"Exercise," is the answer he gets, and this, too, is predictably Sirius.

The train ride has a calming effect on Remus, as it is steeped in another part of his Routine: Peter tells them of a jellyfish that chased him halfway across the English Channel and makes them all laugh, and James has them in stitches about his trip to Ghana, where he and his parents went on a magical Safari, and even Remus has stories to share about his holidays in Ireland, and Sirius laughs and asks them questions and praises the meatball sandwiches like he's never had one in his life and hogs the sausages and says nothing about his Summer at all.

Then the conversation sort of fades — they're all stuffing their faces — and something changes yet again.

Sirius is suddenly gone, and Remus thinks it's to the loo or something, but after half an hour, he begins to think that, unless he had a bad meatball, Sirius shouldn't be taking so long to return.

"Do you think we should go look for him? Maybe he got stuck."

"He's just with his brother," says James, his eyes watching the countryside thoughtfully. "It's his Sorting, tonight, and the kid's nervous."

"But the Sorting isn't so bad," says Peter, mouth full of jelly worms: Remus, too, has brought some things to share.

"It is when you're a Black and your brother made Gryffindor," James corrects their chubby friend. "Remember First Year?"

"Oh," says Pete, and they fall silent again.

And this isn't predictable.

Sirius doesn't come back until they're speeding past York, his arrival signalled by shouting (not his) and laughter (his) and a very familiar screech of: "Twenty points, you filthy blood-traitor!" courtesy of an enraged Bellatrix.

"You can't take points, Trixie Pixie," Sirius yells back gleefully, yanking the door to their compartment open. "The year hasn't started yet! Inbred moron!"

He slides the door shut and casts a Shielding Charm that starts glowing brightly as colourful hexes slam into it, his hair on end, robes smouldering.

"Who in their right mind would even consider making her a Prefect," he mutters and flops down next to Remus, who gets a face full of that new Sirius smell at once. The urge to rip into him is easier to suppress, because he is stuffed with snacks and the wolf is sated. He wonders if he'll have to carry nibbles around again this year.

The elves would be thrilled.

"You said that last year," James reminds Sirius and puts him out with a wave of his wand. "I still don't have an answer for you."

The barrage of spells stops hitting Sirius' glowing blue shield near Stirling, and once again, the Routine is back, although something tells Remus he's witnessing the death of it this year. He shunts the thought aside, but he's keeping count of the changes, hopes he won't find any.

Sirius curls up in his seat and sleeps like the dead, check. James and Remus play exploding snap, check. Peter empties the snack basket while he watches, check. They all pitch in to fill it again with candy from the Trolley Lady… whose arrival makes James uneasy and Sirius start awake upon hearing her voice. Damn.

"They should change her," says James, who has been very quiet and trying to shrink into his seat. He let Peter and Remus do all the shopping, which is, again, out of the ordinary.

"What are you talking about, she's nice," Remus says, unwrapping his umpteenth chocolate frog.

"She really isn't," chorus James and Sirius, but they leave it at that.

Nap over, Sirius unfolds himself from his seat, cleans himself up, and he and James decide they've been sitting here for too long and it's time to look in on everyone else to see what they're up to.

The train ride ends in the customary flurry of activity. By the time they pull into Hogsmeade Station, the four of them have managed to get into three duels, have caught up with friends and enemies alike, Sirius and James have gotten slapped by their "former girlfriends" whom they swear up and down they had no idea they were dating, and collected — or paid up — their Quidditch bets on the Summer's games.

So far, so good, thinks Remus, and hopes things will level out now.

Sirius leaps off the train the instant it slows down, though, jogs to the front of the train to find another raven-haired boy, who is clearly not enjoying his arrival much and looks confused and lost as the many Black relations surrounding him make their way to the carriages and leave him to his own devices.

Sirius throws an arm around him and leads him to Hagrid, exchanges some words with the enormous Groundskeeper who is clearly happy to see him, says something to the younger boy that makes him laugh.

Only then does Remus realise it must be his younger brother. The resemblance is striking, and he wonders how he missed it before.

"Good luck, and don't worry. Just do what I told you — you'll make Slytherin or it will be that rag's last Sorting, remind it if you need to. See you later, Veggie," Sirius calls over his shoulder, already hurrying to the carriage that will take them to school.

"Don't call me that!" But the boy is grinning as he joins the other First Years.

Sirius is very quiet as he glances at the front of the driverless carriage, as if he can see something Remus can't. By then Remus has stopped hoping for a predictable Feast.

Which is sad, he muses a bit later, when Sirius' owl causes a commotion by fluttering around over all their heads in the Entrance Hall and perches on his shoulder with a defiant "Hoo-hoo-hoo!" The animal, like its owner, has a rebellious streak a mile wide, and even McGonagall gives up on trying to send it to the Owlery.

The Feast does not disappoint, however: none of James' plans to prank the Great Hall have caught on, as usual; the Sorting has no surprises, as usual — except for the half hour they had to wait for Black, Regulus Arcturus Phineas Vega to get put into Slytherin, which made the table at the far end erupt in deafening cheers — echoed by a lone, yet arguably the loudest, voice from the Gryffindor table — and, again as usual, the food is excellent.

By the time they all make their way to their dormitory and Remus peels away from the other Gryffindors to see the Nurse — as usual — his sense of stability is fully restored.

"Here's the list of all full moons this year," Madam Pomfrey tells him, once she's finished checking him over and declares herself satisfied with the state of him. "And there is one more thing I would like you to try."

Remus doesn't like change, but he is too turned around at this point to care.

"You said you still can't remember what happens when you transform," she explains, pouring him a mug of hot chocolate and offering some biscuits.

Remus nods.

"I would like us to try something. Or rather, you. Try and keep a record of however much or little you can recall."

"You mean, like a diary?" Remus asks, after a swig. And would she read it?

"Of sorts. You could only write about the Moon, of course. How you feel, what you recall, maybe one week prior and until one week after. I wouldn't read it," she adds, correctly reading his expression. "This is just an exercise for you to come to terms with your condition."

He likes Poppy Pomfrey for this reason: she doesn't sugarcoat. Remus looks down, nods. He hasn't been coming to terms with anything, has he. Mostly, he hides. Pretends it's not there except on the Moon.

"You need to," Poppy says kindly. "You need to stop hiding from yourself, Remus. You won't be in school forever, and though I'm sure you can use your Shack even after you graduate, you need to start coming to grips with yourself. Maybe this is the way to start. Maybe this will help you remember, and when you do, we can work on controlling those urges."

Remus promises he will give it a try, warns her not to hold out any hopes, and receives a beautiful leather-bound tome. If others read it, Poppy says, they'll only see coursework.

He thanks the Nurse, who smiles at him and reminds him to stop by the Kitchens in case he feels peckish.

Remus makes his way to Gryffindor Tower alone, troubled in a way he hasn't felt in a long time, even if Pomfrey just gave him something he ought to have liked: a new routine.

When he reaches the Common Room, James is talking with Gideon about a Puddlemere game he went to with his parents, Peter is reading a comic book while noshing on the last liquorice wand, and Sirius is nowhere in sight. His owl is in the room, though.

Oh.

Sirius is honouring a tradition of his own: His first night at Hogwarts, he always soaks in the tub for hours, as though this can wash away every last second of his Summer.

Launcelot gives Remus the stink-eye like only an eagle owl can, from his perch atop Sirius' bedpost. It's like the thing knows something Remus himself isn't aware of.

Remus sniffs in that smell, that maddening scent that's unmistakably Sirius and yet completely alien. It's all over the things he's scattered on his bed upon arrival, it emanates from his open, messily-packed trunk, and Remus hopes the smell will wash off with that eternal bath he's taking, because the wolf has decided he'll want to pick that one apart.

In that regard, Remus and the wolf are like-minded: they hate not knowing what to expect.

The school year begins, and at first it all seems to be falling into place as it usually does: James relentlessly pesters Trent Wood, their Fifth Year Quidditch Captain, to call for try-outs and fill the roster and book the Pitch before anyone else; Peter is excited when he gets to charm the suits of armour for their first official prank this year; Sirius emerges from his usual start-of-year sulk incredibly quickly and gets his first detention by Wednesday for animating a rug in the Fourth Floor to snatch kids up and fly them around the hallways whenever they step on it.

They have to pick their elective classes, and Remus decides upon Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, which James is also taking. Peter only picks Divination because it sounds easy, and both James and Sirius pick Care of Magical Creatures, and Sirius decides on Advanced Arithmancy. At the last minute he also picks Muggle Studies, claiming it's the only subject he'll actually have to study for, so why not?

Remus finds it's all normal and all-around predictable. The year is looking up.

The only thing that isn't working out at all is that damned journal.

Remus has always loved coursework; it gives him something to focus on that isn't the wolf, or its urges, or smells or the stinging of his latest scars. It lets him hide in plain sight, and if there's research involved, it's also his best escape from himself.

Now it's one week to the September Moon, and he has written exactly zero words.

He carries the thing around in his book bag, flips it open here and there, closes it again. Tonight he is determined to get at least something on that tantalisingly blank page, however. He dips his quill in the inkwell, and…

Nothing.

"Taking up novelling, I see," Sirius' voice startles him — and there he is, sweaty and muddy from Quidditch practice. He throws himself onto a chair across from Remus, who clenches his jaw. Sirius reeks of that smell again, the one he can't place, and the wolf, who has been rather dormant of late, wakes up, curious all over.

"You need a shower," mutters Remus. "And novelling isn't even a word." Sirius sniffs himself, grins, and shrugs.

"James beat me to the bath if you must know, and you know how much of a hog he is. What are you writing, then?" he asks, leaning forward to look at the blank page.

"Nothing yet," Remus lets out a breath he's been holding, to little effect. That maddening new smell is buried in his nostrils with the next inhale, and the wolf snarls deep within.

"You should make it an adventure story. With like, monsters from the depths of the Forest, and dragons, and pigs, that sort."

Sirius has no idea.

"Pigs?" Asks Remus, amused despite himself.

"They're scary. Their snouts are snotty, I'm not even joking. And they'll eat anything— kind of like you, next week."

"Shut up, Sirius. And- just go away." Remus didn't mean to snap, but it's out before he can bite his tongue. Sirius gives him an odd look, and how can he not, Remus wonders. He didn't see it coming at all, and clearly, Sirius didn't, either.

"Have it your way," is the blithe answer, and the next moment Sirius is gone.

Remus sighs, wondering if he'll manage to keep himself in check. It's only one week to the Moon, and… and he looks down at his journal, where he has written something at last.

'I want to tear Sirius Black to pieces and eat him.'

No, this is most definitely not a good way to start the damn thing. Still, an assignment is an assignment, and he ought to explain himself here.

'He smells differently now, I don't know if it's good different or bad different and the wolf wants and I don't know if I'll manage not to give it what it wants because I kind of want it too.'

Remus closes the book with a snap and stares at it as though it's poisonous.

He's pretty sure this wasn't what Madam Pomfrey had in mind when she said to write his recollections down, was it?

He's tempted to tear out the page, but he's Remus Lupin and worse than Pince when it comes to caring for books of any kind — James has maintained for years he'll end up as Hogwarts' next Librarian — so he doesn't tear it out and burn it like he would like to.

He stuffs the journal in his book bag, as though that could obliterate the words he's just allowed to flow from his quill, as if hiding it from sight will also conceal what the wolf really wants.

It doesn't.

The next six days crawl by, with a new routine: Remus wakes up early every morning, fights off the urge to piss all over Sirius' things or give him a good bite on the throat just to get rid of the smell of him, then goes to the Kitchens to pick up his snacks, and stuffs himself while he avoids so much as looking at Sirius the rest of the day.

Sirius seems to have noticed, because aside from "Morning" and "Night" he doesn't talk to Remus, either, but he's so damn casual about it Remus doubts James or Peter have caught on at all. And he's selfishly grateful for Sirius' reaction.

Moon Eve falls on Tuesday, and it's easily the hardest day for Remus. Thankfully, when he wakes up, Sirius' bed is empty, and the wolf is disappointed.

Remus is relieved.

He doesn't see him all day, either, but he's so busy trying to avoid him, he doesn't notice until dinner that Sirius hasn't been around at all. It's not like him to skive, unless they're all doing it together.

"Where's Sirius?" He asks Peter, who is already having at his stew as though it'll run away from him.

"Said he wasn't feeling up to dinner. If you ask me, he's in he Kitchens trying to wheedle some steak tartare from the elves again."

"What, now?" Remus asks, nonplussed, as James walks into the Great Hall with a harassed-looking Trent Wood, gesticulating as he describes one of his newest strategies.

"Come on, like you haven't noticed," Peter actually pauses to stare at him for all of three seconds before he's focused on shovelling food into his mouth again. "It's his thing, isn't it, he's been scarfing down that stuff whenever he can since last year. I'm sure that trip to Transylvania has something to do with it. Try the Kitchens, I'm sure he's there."

Remus doesn't try the Kitchens. Instead, he decides he'll spend the night in the Shack. Pomfrey doesn't even ask him why, when he goes to tell her.

He goes to his room to pick up some things to pass the time — and on his bed, neatly wrapped in Muggle butcher paper, is the biggest steak in creation. The note, in Sirius' Edwardian-style script, reads: Figured you'd like this.

And the whole thing reeks of animal. He doesn't know what to make of it.

The steak, Remus finds out later as he settles into the Shack, which is blissfully devoid of strange smells that stir up his killing urges, is indeed delicious.

Remus wakes up in the tunnel when Madam Pomfrey comes to collect him on Thursday. His hands sear and the rest of him hurts, and when the Nurse has doctored him into a bleary-eyed sort of consciousness, he sees why: he probably spent all night clawing at the Willow's roots, trying to dig himself out — There are inch-deep gauges dripping sap in the roots, the earthen tunnel walls.

"Oh, dear, dear," Poppy mutters, and Remus hisses at the bandages that wrap themselves around his broken, bleeding fingers. They're soaked in Dittany, and he's made to swallow a bunch of potions, and then she picks up his things for him and takes him to his bed in the Hospital Wing.

"Can you remember what happened?" she asks him, worried.

Remus shakes his head — but just as he's leaving the tunnel, it hits him again: that bloody insanity-inducing scent is all over the clearing around the Whomping Willow, or is he imagining it now? Either is entirely possible.

A moment later, the Nurse takes pity on him and levitates him to his bed.

Remus doesn't wake up again until lunchtime.

As he's taking a half-arsed tally of what all is wrong with him this time around and surprised when he doesn't feel like his ribcage reassembled itself inside-out, he notices what woke him.

Sirius is arguing with James outside his curtains.

"You shouldn't have done it, that's all I'm saying," James mutters, and he sounds annoyed.

"You'll have to do it too when the time comes," Sirius answers in a low voice, and he sounds grumpy. "How else was I to know if it would work at all? He doesn't even want to speak to me since we got on the bloody train."

"And what did your stupid little experiment accomplish?" hisses James. There's a silence, broken only by the Nurse a little later.

"I told you two to get out of here, didn't I?" and Madam Pomfrey sounds cross. "He'll be all better by dinnertime. Now, I know for a fact you have a Care of Magical Creatures Class to go to, and I shall not sign any permission slips for either of you, so."

Grumbled protests reach his ears, and an exasperated, "Yes, yes, I'll give him that, now get cracking, you're ten minutes late as it is."

And they're gone.

Poppy Pomfrey pulls his curtains open, her previous annoyance gone.

"Black and Potter," she informs with a smile, placing a package on his bedside table. "Honestly, it's as if those two know."

"They don't," Remus lies at once.

"Oh, of course they don't. Can you imagine the uproar if they did?" the nurse laughs lightly, shakes her head. "The Potters would be worse than the Blacks if they thought their son was in any danger."

Remus nods dutifully, though something tells him the Blacks wouldn't care much at all.

Of course, his friends know. The Sorting Hat just had to stick him in the same House, nay, room, with two bloody geniuses with eyes on their heads, with not an ounce of self-preservation instinct between them, one of whom can calculate entire star charts and lunar phases to the millisecond in his head.

It's a miracle they didn't work it out until Christmas in First Year, if he thinks about it. The only uproar there had been, however, was the one Remus himself had caused. They had surprised a few years out of him when they confronted him, then kept his secret, kept his friendship, and when he returned from holidays, they had all pulled Peter into the fold.

'I'm a monster, don't delude yourself.'

'Come off it, Remus,' Sirius scoffed. 'No monster could ever wear sweaters as well as you do.'

'I'm not joking.'

'What, and you think I am taking the piss? What you are, Lupin, is the absolute coolest thing in creation. Now, if you're quite done feeling sorry for yourself, there's a snowball fight on, come on.'

And now he wanted to kill Sirius for it. Would he then start seeing James that way too? Peter?

"Let's sit you up," said Pomfrey, snapping Remus from his reverie. "It's surprisingly little this time, just your hands… and I believe they're pretty much healed by now. I'll talk to the Headmaster, ask him to reinforce the tunnel from the inside so you can't dig yourself out."

She leaves him to rest a little later, and Remus tackles the package his friends left for him.

That now-familiar scent wafts to his nose, but the wolf doesn't react as he did before the Moon. All Remus gets from it, is 'friend', a funny sensation in the pit of his stomach he can't explain.

The contents of the package, too, exceed his expectations: A dozen meatballs, uncooked, courtesy of Sirius. A bar of Honeydukes Best from James and Peter.

He pulls out his journal, and writes,

'09.13.73 No longer want to kill and eat Sirius Black.'

It's a relief.

It's also very, very short-lived.

By the time he's released from the Hospital Wing — feeling better than he has in years — with a friendly reminder to try and recall what happened last night and write it in his journal, he finds his friends waiting outside.

"All right, Remus?" Out of them all, James is the most anxious, Peter is plainly scared, and Sirius is the furthest away, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah. Never better, actually. Not sure what happened," Remus replies honestly. James looks relieved, gives Sirius a sideways glance.

"Told you all he needs is some steak the night before and the morning after," says Sirius, and is that satisfaction on his face? Remus' eyes meet Sirius', and he suddenly gets a flash of actual recollection, his very first: a face peering through the roots of the Whomping Willow, clear eyes piercing the darkness. A voice-

His relief is suddenly gone.

It makes him uneasy, and he doesn't understand it, it's just the vaguest of memories and there's a strange, dreamlike quality to it, but he does jot it down that night, after helping Peter with his Charms essay, while James and Sirius are away Merlin knows where.

'Sirius outside the tunnel.'

Even as he writes it, he half can't believe it. But then, if there is anyone foolish enough to try and get into the Shack…

Can he honestly say Sirius wouldn't try it?

TBC, in the meantime, I'll howl with joy at any feedback sent my way!

Up next: Remus can't remember his Moons, James and Peter are suddenly jealous of Sirius, Sirius is a foodie, and Remus finally begins to write in his wolf journal. He can't really believe what he's writing in it, though.