The Prank
What: The Prank
Who: Sirius, Snape, James, Peter, Remus, Albus, McGonagall
Where: Hogwarts and grounds
When: Dusk, just before/around moonrise
Trailing a couple of yards after Madam Pomfrey as they left the school, Remus tried to remind himself, as he always did, that it wouldn't be bad for long. His friends would get to the shack as soon as possible, and it'd be alright after that. No injuries, no new scars, just night air and the animal thrill of freedom and camaraderie, and it was going to be alright. It always was, since last year. They'd be there.
Trying desperately to take comfort in that thought (it was the only thing keeping him from being sick with apprehension), Remus glanced up at the darkening sky. There were maybe twenty minutes to moonrise, he thought grimly, and probably more like fifteen. He was paler than usual, drawn, and had been quiet and tense all day. It was normal for the day of a full moon; he ached already in that peculiar, almost-painful way that preceded the transformations, and he hadn't slept last night. No matter that he'd been doing this since he'd been very small. It was still terrifying, still agonizing, and he'd only recently come to not altogether hate these nights. Rationally he knew it wouldn't be as bad as it used to be, but fear and the promise of pain had kept him withdrawn and uneasy.
Hands balled up in his jacket pockets, Remus followed Madam Pomfrey to the Willow, forcing himself to focus on shaggy black fur and clattering antlers and tiny, scurrying paws. It would, he told himself firmly, be alright.
Who: Sirius, Snape, James, Peter, Remus, Albus, McGonagall
Where: Hogwarts and grounds
When: Dusk, just before/around moonrise
Trailing a couple of yards after Madam Pomfrey as they left the school, Remus tried to remind himself, as he always did, that it wouldn't be bad for long. His friends would get to the shack as soon as possible, and it'd be alright after that. No injuries, no new scars, just night air and the animal thrill of freedom and camaraderie, and it was going to be alright. It always was, since last year. They'd be there.
Trying desperately to take comfort in that thought (it was the only thing keeping him from being sick with apprehension), Remus glanced up at the darkening sky. There were maybe twenty minutes to moonrise, he thought grimly, and probably more like fifteen. He was paler than usual, drawn, and had been quiet and tense all day. It was normal for the day of a full moon; he ached already in that peculiar, almost-painful way that preceded the transformations, and he hadn't slept last night. No matter that he'd been doing this since he'd been very small. It was still terrifying, still agonizing, and he'd only recently come to not altogether hate these nights. Rationally he knew it wouldn't be as bad as it used to be, but fear and the promise of pain had kept him withdrawn and uneasy.
Hands balled up in his jacket pockets, Remus followed Madam Pomfrey to the Willow, forcing himself to focus on shaggy black fur and clattering antlers and tiny, scurrying paws. It would, he told himself firmly, be alright.