Remus was convinced his whole life that he was the only werewolf at Hogwarts. That was pretty easy to calculate, actually. He had read some books about his condition and others who shared it, leading him to the logical conclusion that all those like him were probably somewhere in the woods, tearing up deer. Prongs needed to be more careful.

So, it was a complete surprise to him when, during one of the Moons, he saw another werewolf. At first, he thought it had come from the depths of the forest. Remus was ready to fight until the werewolf… sniffed him? And then ran off. He was so perplexed, even the beast inside him was stunned.

Since that Moon, Remus had been unsuccessfully trying to find another student with lycanthropy. He assumed it was a student because grown werewolves were much larger, and they didn’t run off— they fought and killed.

His first thought was to check the registers, but then he remembered that you could only be registered as a werewolf after you turned 17. The wolf he saw in their human form was definitely younger.

His poor deduction skills weren’t getting him anywhere. Finding you was a dumb coincidence.

A smell. A familiar smell, goddammit. That was what made Remus find you.

He was in the library when he suddenly caught it. It was a smell he had definitely noticed before—wood, rain, and a bit of flowers. He stood up, knocking his books down and stumbling over his chair as he ran around the library like a madman, trying to find the culprit.

And then…

“You,” he murmured, freezing near a table in the corner of the library by the window. He loved that place, but it was usually taken.

“Hey,” he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling awkward. What the hell was he supposed to say next? He knew he’d hate to be approached with an accusation of being a werewolf.

So, he settled for a quiet, “You’re like me.”