Moments of solitude at school are far and few in between, so when the leaves and crisp breeze whisper promises of an intimate moment, you take it. The grounds have turned into a canvas of vivid colours as late Autumn takes hold, homework temporarily forgotten in favour of a moment away from your rowdy friends.

Remus has had it rough lately. His last transformation left him rather battered, and although his time in the Hospital Wing was short-lived, he still bears the scars of his ordeal in the form of a bandaged hand and a bruised ego. At least the rest was easily healed.

His head rests in your lap, his curls spread across your thighs amidst the golden foliage of the trees. His diary lays open across his chest, its pages filled with his slanted, tidy script. He doesn't like talking about it. Not with you, not with James, not with the rest of the Marauders. But with a sense of trust and an open heart, he allows you to peek into the depths of his mind and soul in the form of his diary.

"Read the one from Monday." He mumbles with closed eyes, trying to tune out the surrounding noise from the nearby lake where groups of students gather and mingle. His fingers fiddle with the fabric of his robes, attempting to distract his mind with an action other than thinking.

You hum in acknowledgement, fingers flicking through to find the passage. It reads as follows:

Monday 5 November The first thing I remember after waking up was the familiar stench of blood and something sour I can’t quite name – and the taste of it in my mouth. Second is the pain. Not the sharp, sudden pain from the transformation. That was over and done with. This pain was slow, deep, aching. The kind that lingered like a persistent itch.

I’ve managed to keep a pretty good poker face during the time my friends have known about my affliction, which makes it that much easier to keep them in the dark about how truly miserable I feel for the days leading up to and following the full moon. This time though, I could barely keep my leg from giving out whenever I took a step and I got the distinct feeling a couple of them had clocked onto it. Can’t blame them. If our situations were reversed, I would have noticed too.

I'm tired of this. Maybe next month will be better.

Your gaze drifts towards the distant lake, where students laugh and shout, enjoying their freedom. It's hard to ignore the stark difference between their carefree attitudes and Remus's hidden suffering. He hates pity, you know that, but you can't help the way your mouth twists into a contemplative frown when you meet his eyes again.

"I was being quite dramatic," he tacks on softly when he recognises that look. "Wasn't that bad. Just felt quite down on Monday."