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There's no particular reason Remus decides to go outside this evening. Nothing portentous or ominous or significant in the decision. No real reason he can put his finger on at all, beyond that the thought occurs to him and, well, why not?

And it's nice outside. A bit like the Hogwarts grounds, but at the same time, very obviously not the Hogwarts grounds. Familiar and unfamiliar all at once, with the lake and the trees and the . . .

That's . . . .

. . . it's . . .

It's the full moon.

And that's impossible, it's completely impossible, because this is not a thing that sneaks up on him, he always knows, he can feel it, and anyway, it was last week, he has three more weeks until there's another one, and it can't be, it just can't.

But it is and oh fuck he's not ready for this and he's going to kill someone or worse and there's nothing he can . . .

Except . . .

Except nothing's happening.

Remus stares at the backs of his hands, which are shaking rather a lot, but which are still unmistakably his hands. The fingers still end in nails rather than claws, there's still skin where there would be fur. He closes them into fists, counts to ten and then twenty and then two hundred and seventeen. Still hands. He opens them again, turns them so he can see the palms, and breathes in very, very slowly.

Still his hands. Still his mind.

Cautiously, Remus looks back at the moon hanging over the trees.

Definitely full. Definitely a moon.

Remus closes his eyes, rubs his hands across his face. (Still his face. Still his nose. No snout.)

He opens his eyes and looks at the moon again.

Still there.

What the hell is going on?

The moon is full, and he's . . . Remus.

But then, it's not his moon, is it, for all it looks like it. And maybe . . . maybe . . .

Remus sits down on the ground, because he's not sure his knees are exactly properly functional at the moment.

It's been years since he's seen a full moon with his own eyes, so long that he can't remember one. He was too young, and it's not like they knew that he'd better appreciate that last one because he'd never see another. But he stares at this one, now.

He supposes it's pretty, in an abstract, aesthetic sort of way. It looks . . . harmless. Uninvolved. Silvery and insubstantial, like a charm you summon for amusement, not like anything that could itself summon high tides and monsters. He can see why people sing about it and write poems about it and meet their lovers by its light.

He doesn't like it. He doesn't even like the narrow crescents that bracket the new moon, and he certainly doesn't like the moon like this.

But he doesn't stop looking at it, either.

(And that's stupid, that's really stupid, because he doesn't have any real idea of how much of a grace period he's got here, except that he doesn't feel like he does before he changes. He's not sure how he feels, but it's not like that.)

He just sits, cross-legged, with his elbows on his knees and his chin on his (still human) hands, and he stares at the full moon.

"Hello?"

Remus frowns at the telephone. The voice is definitely female, but it doesn't really sound like Lily. Maybe voices get changed, though, when they travel over the cords and all?

"Hello?"

There's a hint of irritation this time, and Remus reminds himself that she can't see him, so he had better start talking.

"Er, Lily?" he says.

"Is this Remus?"

It must change voices, if she has to ask, too. Remus nods, remembers that it's useless to do so, and says, "Yes."

"She said you might be calling. One moment, Remus, I'll get her for you."

Oh, it's her mum. It had never occurred to him that the number wouldn't dial directly to Lily, the way an owl delivers a letter straight to its recipient.

Though it makes much more sense than the idea that the cords change voices, now that he thinks about it.

"Thank you," Remus manages.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see James and Sirius, watching him through the phone box's windows. He'd locked the door and cast a muffling spell, which he knows he'll pay for later, but he thinks it's worth it to have some measure of privacy for this. They're his best mates, and he trusts them with his life and the biggest secrets thereof, but he doesn't need their "help" with this.

"Hello, Remus," Lily says, and Remus focuses his attention on the telephone in front of him. "I thought you'd be calling."

"Hello, Lily." She sounds exactly like herself, which is both reassuring and kind of bizarre. "It's really odd to hear you but not see you."

"Yeah, I guess that is new for you, isn't it?" she says. "So is this your practice call before you ring what's-her-name?"

"Angela, and I don't know. James and Sirius think I should, but ... I dunno."

"Well, it's really kind of simple, Remus. If you want to ring her, you should ring her, and if you don't ... then I'm honestly not sure why you're calling me."

"I'm just not sure it's a good idea," Remus says.

"Why wouldn't it be, if you liked her? You're talking about calling a girl on the phone, and maybe seeing her for a bit. What's the worst that could really happen here?"

"We meet up, go out, get attacked by Dark wizards, she winds up in St. Mungo's where they have to reverse four different curses and then she gets Obliviated and forgets she ever met me in the first place, and I wind up in Azkaban for violating the Statute of Secrecy," Remus says in a rush.

It's a moment before Lily says, "You've given that an alarming amount of thought. The good news, though, is that as long as you don't take her to some dodgy pub in Knockturn Alley, I don't really see that happening. I don't think your average Death Eater is hanging around London hoping some sixth year Gryffindor on a date is going to wander past. I kind of think they have better, or worse, things to do than worry about a Hogwarts student, yeah?"

"She could have a really bad time and wish she'd never met me," Remus says.

"Yeah, she could," Lily says. "But again, the worse that happens there is that the two of you have a less than brilliant afternoon, and it's not like you'd have to spend the rest of the year sitting across the aisle from her in Charms class or trying to avoid her in the common room, like Perdita and Black."

"But that's part of the problem, isn't it?" Remus says. "I'm a Wizard. She's a Muggle."

"Yeah, and if you were talking about marrying her, that would be a concern. But you're talking about ringing a girl up and then maybe taking her to get a cup of tea or something. Don't make this bigger than it is."

"Right," Remus says. He looks over his shoulder, where James and Sirius have practically pressed their noses to the glass and then turns back to staring at the numbers on the phone in front of him. "So what do I say?"

"Um, you say something like, 'Hello, this is Remus, we met however it is you two met, I'm in town visiting a friend for Easter break, I've got to go back to school on Sunday, but I'd really like see you before then, are you free?' And then the two of you pick a place and a time. And you can let her suggest the place, because you don't know London and she does."

"What if her mum answers the phone like yours did?"

"Then you say, 'Hello, this is Remus Lupin, I'm trying to reach Angela, is she in?' And her mother will either go get her, or she'll tell you she's out. And if she tells you Angela is out," Lily continues, anticipating his next question, "then you say you're staying with a friend, you don't want to disturb his parents, and is there a good time to call again and talk to her."

Remus nods, remembers the whole not-seeing thing, and manages, "All right."

"Good."

"Lily?"

"Yeah?

"What if it goes really well?"

And why is that the scariest thought of all?

"Then you have a brilliant time. And you ask her for her address, and you tell her you'll write from school."

"I can't write her from school," Remus says. "I can't send an owl to a -- "

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Remus, you'd hardly be the first person to need to write to a Muggle from Hogwarts. There are ways to do it; I'll explain if you need to know. And at this point, you're just stalling. You don't really need to me to tell you any of this. Just ask her out. Stop making up excuses, stop pretending you don't know what to say, stop telling yourself you can't handle this, because you and I both know you can. So I'm ringing off now. You can tell me all about how it goes on Sunday. See you then."

"Lily, no wait, I -- "

There's a click and she's gone.

Remus considers just stepping out of the phone box and telling James and Sirius that Angela is busy for the rest of the week and it didn't work out, but as he can't see any way he actually gets away with that, he sighs, squares his shoulders, and drops another coin into the phone to call Angela.

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm Remus Lupin, I'm trying to -- "

"Oh, hello. This is Angela."

"Angela. Oh, good," Remus says. "I was calling you."

"I was hoping you would," she says.

"And I am," he says, and then makes the inanity of that remark worse by adding, "But you've spotted that."

Thank Merlin for muffling spells, because if Sirius had heard that, Remus would never hear the end of it, as it might actually be the stupidest and most obvious thing he has ever said.

Angela laughs. "I did, yeah," she says.

Wait, does she think he's being, like, clever?

Or amusing?

On purpose?

"I'm glad you did," Angela says. "How are you?"

Confused.

Very, very confused.

"I'm good, thanks. How're you? How's Winston?"

Did he really just ask about the dog?

"He's fine; hasn't got away from anybody since you caught him. And I'm good, too."

Right, that's covered then. What was he supposed to say next?

"Um, so, um," Remus says, and makes the mistake of looking away from the phone. James and Sirius have split up, and are now watching him from either side. Remus attempts to steadfastly ignore them in the most dignified manner he can manage while stammering.

"Yes?" Angela asks.

"Well, I'm visiting a friend in London this week, for part of Easter Break," he says. "And I've got to go back to school on Sunday."

"Oh," she says.

"But, um," Remus says, and glances over at James, whose smile is actually ... encouraging.

Stop telling yourself you can't handle this.

"But meeting you was definitely one the best parts of my visit, and I know that you're probably busy, and I'll understand if you can't, but if you've got time, and you wanted to, I'd really like to see you before I go back. Maybe tomorrow?"

That actually didn't sound too bad, did it?

"That'd be brilliant," Angela says. "I'd love to."

"Me, too," Remus says. "I already said that, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but that's all right," she says. "I promised Molly -- that's my sister -- I promised her I'd do some things with her in the morning, but I'm free all afternoon."

"Um, maybe around two o'clock, then? I could meet you somewhere."

"That'd be perfect. Where?" Angela asks.

"You probably know a lot more about London than I do," Remus says. "What would you recommend?"

"Have you not got to see much of the city, then?"

"Not really," Remus says.

"Well, I guess we could just sort of meet at Trafalgar Square or something? Walk around a little, let you see some of the sights. Is that silly?"

"No, not at all," Remus says. "I think it sounds like fun. Trafalgar Square, two o'clock, tomorrow."

"I'll wait for you by Nelson's Column and I'll be wearing a purple scarf," Angela says.

Remus isn't sure where Trafalgar Square is or what Nelson's Column is, but he's got twenty-four hours to figure it out.

He can handle it.

"I'll find you. I'll just look for the prettiest girl there."

In retrospect, maybe he shouldn't have borrowed James' jacket.

He had a perfectly serviceable jacket of his own, but it had been upstairs, and when Mrs Potter had told him to just take the one James had left by the door, he'd figured it didn't really make much of a difference. And that it was better not to interrupt the conversation he'd left James and Sirius having when he'd gone downstairs in the first place.

Except, of course, that James' jacket is somewhat more respectable (or at least less shabby and worn at the elbows) than his own, and he rather thinks he wouldn't be here if he'd been wearing his own jacket.

Of course he also wouldn't be here if he'd stayed at his parents' house for what's left of Easter Break. But home is so ... dull, especially when compared to an invitation to visit James in London. And it let him see first hand how James and Sirius are getting on. So he's staying with the Potters till it's time to go back to Hogwarts, and alternately providing a sort of buffer between his two best friends and knowing when to make himself scarce so they can continue to work out the things they're still working out.

He'd wound up having an awkward conversation with James' mum, which was a little ridiculous, because she's one of the kindest people he knows. It's just not exactly easy to have a long conversation with James' mum. But there hadn't been any way out of it, at least not that he could see, except to announce that it looked like a nice afternoon and he was going to talk a walk.

And it is a nice afternoon, and moreover it's a perfectly nice if totally uneventful walk.

And then it's not.

"Winston! Winston, stop! Heel! Come back! Winston! Somebody catch him, please!"

Remus turns toward the voice, almost automatically, and spots the small black puppy tearing down the pavement, barking madly, leash trailing behind him.

It reminds him of Sirius, a bit.

And then he realizes the puppy is headed directly into the path of an oncoming double decker bus, and it reminds him a lot of Sirius.

Maybe that's why he does it. Maybe it's not. Either way, Winston finds his forward motion abruptly arrested by a very covertly cast Petrificus Totalus. (And Remus is a Marauder. He can cast spells covertly with the best of them, and frequently does.) He grabs the end of the leash and releases the puppy from the spell just as the bus goes rumbling past and Winston's owner rounds the corner and comes into view.

"Oh, thank God," she says. "You caught him. Thank God." And while at least part of this appears to be addressed to Remus, her attention is more or less wholly on the puppy. She lifts him off the ground. "Bad dog," she says, sternly. "Very bad dog." Winston responds by licking her face, and barking happily.

Sirius. Definitely.

She sets the puppy back down on the pavement and looks to Remus, who is still holding the other end of the leash. "Oh, you probably want this back, don't you?" he asks.

"Thank you," she says. "For everything, really. He's my little sister's, and I don't know what I would have told her if anything had happened to him. She'd never have got over. Thank you."

"You're welcome. It was -- " Remus breaks off for a second, because now that the excitement is over and her attention is on him, Remus can see that she's rather exceptionally pretty. Her eyes eyes are an almost violet blue, her hair is very long and a shade of blonde that's nearly gold where the light hits it, and he'd guess she's just about his age. "It was no trouble," he manages, finally.

"Angela Randle," she says, and she smiles.

For a second, Remus wants to turn and see whether it's Sirius or James coming up behind him, because in his experience, girls don't smile like that at him. They smile like that over him, to one of his better looking, better connected, richer friends.

"Remus Lupin," he says. "It's very nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too," she says. And then, "Remus? Like the founder of Rome?"

Or his brother, at any rate, Remus thinks, but he just nods. "My parents were feeling classical when I was born, I guess."

She laughs. She actually laughs. Like he's managed to say something clever or witty or amusing.

She's ... she's flirting. With him. And it has to be the jacket, which must make him look like James, because this is the sort of thing that happens to James, not to Remus.

Ever.

Angela and reaches up to push her hair behind her ear. "Well, thank you again," she says. "For taking time out of founding Italian cities to catch my sister's puppy."

"Um, you're welcome again," Remus says, and that makes her laugh more.

They stand there for a second and then she says, "I really should get Winston home."

"Of course," he says.

"But, um." She holds the end of the leash back out to Remus. "Could you? Just for a second?"

"Yeah, sure."

She searching through her handbag for something. "I never do this, you know," she says, and he nods, though he has no idea what it is she never does. "I know I've just met you, and it's probably a bit mad," she adds, scribbling something on the back of a receipt she's managed to locate in her bag, and then offering it to him. "But, um, that's my number. Ring me? Perhaps? If you want."

And since that appears to require an answer of some sort, Remus nods.

Angela smiles again and takes Winston's leash back from him. "Brilliant."

She takes Winston's leash back and sets off, back the way she came, stopping once to turn around and wave to him, and Remus, because it would really be very rude not to, waves back.

It's only when she's out of sight that he looks down at the scrap of parchment--no, paper in his hand.

Angela 01 496 6457

What on Earth is he supposed to do with that?

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place is the absolute least welcoming house that Remus has ever seen. His suspicion is that the Blacks are going for forbidding. Or imposing. Or old and noble and upright and important.

But he's stuck on how depressing a place it must have been to have grown up in, or to have to return to. (He can't think of it as coming home, only returning. He wouldn't be the least surprised to learn that Sirius felt the same way.)

Remus has never been here before. He knows the address because he's sent occasional letters over the summers, but whenever he's visited London, they've kept to James' house. He had wondered, once or twice, if Sirius (heir to the name and power that is Black) was ashamed to have his family see his friends, embarrassed by them (particularly Remus: close to impoverished, half-blood, and secretly a werewolf).

Now Remus knows it's the other way around.

Sirius isn't expecting him. Remus had planned to spend Easter Break at Hogwarts, as he generally does. There is always, after all, a full moon in the first week of Easter Break, and the school is much better equipped to handle that than his parents are, even after all these years. But this year the full moon is early in the week, and he's seventeen, which means that once he's recovered (more or less), he's free to make his own way home.

Remus still isn't sure that turning up on the Blacks' doorstep is a good idea, and not just because of the house's general air of Go Back To Where You Came From. But he's not sure that leaving Sirius alone to stew and brood and sulk and generally indulge his more petulant side is a good idea, either.

In fact, he's sure that's a bad idea.

So he has decided to check in on Sirius, who is still stubbornly refusing to contact James.

Remus squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath, and walks up to knock on the door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Remus Lupin goes from being a (not as) mild-mannered (as he appears) Hogwarts student to a full-fledged monster once a month. There are two things you need to know about that.

1. He's affected by the phase of the moon at home, not the phase of the moon at the end of the universe. If the moon is full at Milliways, but waning at Hogwarts, Remus is still human and Remus, even if he's in the bar. It's very unlikely Remus will ever be in bar as a wolf but if by some chance he is, it'll be made really, really, spectacularly clear in the EP.

2. When he's not in wolf-form, a werewolf from this world is described as "sane and normal." When he's in the bar, therefore, Remus will "scan" as a baseline human wizard type. There's not going to be anything about him that reads as "werewolf," physically, metaphysically, etc. His "furry little problem" is, for Remus at seventeen, something he works very hard at keeping secret and private, and I want him to have the option of choosing to tell people or not tell people as relationships and situations change and develop over time.

All of that having been said, if you think there's a reason your pup would know Remus is a werewolf, please get in touch and run it by me before having your character act on that knowledge.

Feel free to send a PM or leave a comment here, and I'll be back to you as soon as possible.

Thanks!

"It's your birthday," Sirius objects, waving the bottle of firewhisky. "If you wouldn't skive off classes, mate, at least skive off this."

"I can't," Remus says.

"'Course you can."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to." Especially not this soon after the full moon. There's only so much slack he can ask the rest of the prefects to pick up for him, after all. "Look, I won't be half be hour, Sirius. Besides, you're hardly going to start before James gets back. I think you'd start without me before you'd start without him."

"Moony, would we do that to you?" Sirius asks, dropping his arm across Peter's shoulder and failing entirely at the air of innocence he seems to be attempting. "On your birthday?"

"Yes," Remus says.

"Fine," Sirius says, and if he's failed at innocent, he's still a master of martyr. "Go forth and be prefectish. Just as well, I suppose. It'll give Wormtail and me a chance to nip down to the kitchens for something to go with the firewhisky."

"Don't get caught," Remus says automatically.

"Moony," Sirius chides, "do we ever get caught?"

Remus supposes he has no one to blame but himself for the fact that his birthday has not been terribly celebratory. If he'd got up this morning and told James and Sirius that he wanted to skive off classes and spend the day in Hogsmeade or the Forest or whatever, they'd have done it. Sirius no doubt thinks it's a bit mad that Remus didn't.

But he's not James or Sirius. If he misses a day of classes, he'll spend a week making it up, even beyond all the detentions they'd wind up serving. He's still catching up from losing the weekend to the full moon.

And, though he'd never tell them, he's privately glad to have a ready-made excuse to be alone for half an hour, checking the corridors for stragglers. Not that there are any this evening. Or if there are, they're managing not to get caught.

Remus is alone.

He's seventeen.

He's of age.

That's supposed to bring things, beyond his grandfather's pocket watch and friends waiting with a bottle of firewhisky. Doors are supposed to open, onto choices and bright futures, all the privileges and rights and responsibilities of adulthood.

But that's the rub, isn't it?

Because there will never again be as many doors open to Remus John Lupin again as there are now and here. He has opportunities at Hogwarts he knows he won't have in the future. No one is ever going to offer him another a position of authority, and not just because he's done a dismal job of using that authority to exercise any control over his best friends.

And it's not about having authority or power or whatever, not really. It's just about knowing it would be an option if he wanted.

No, he's not James or Sirius. He never will be. And from here on out, the doors start closing.

And this is a depressingly melodramatic metaphor to use in a corridor, isn't it? Depressingly melodramatic and not a little bit obvious.

Right, then. It's time to finish up, stop worrying about doors, and get back to his friends.

Remus turns a corner and stops short.

There's a door in front of him that he's never seen before, half-behind the statue of Osric the Ironic.

He's been down this corridor hundreds of times, and he's never noticed it before.

And, sure, it's Hogwarts and doors do that, turn up where they haven't been before, but this one seems different.

He doesn't know why.

But, really, what kind of a Marauder would he be if he didn't check to see where it went ...