it was common knowledge to the marauders at this point that remus was a werewolf. they were a fairly smart bunch despite making stupid decisions ninety-nine percent of the time, so they’d known since their second year.

you, on the other hand, were nothing short of clueless about your friend’s lycanthropy. although, you’d always been concerned how he always seemed to end up in the hospital wing once a month, especially when the moon had been particularly bright the previous night. but the moon had nothing to do with remus and his constant visits to madam pomfrey, right? right. of course.

on one night, a dreary one the week before newt exams, go figure, you and remus had taken up a little table in the library, looking over notes, past writing assignments, text books. anything that would up the chances of passing the dreaded tests.

it was getting closer and closer to midnight, and you could feel your vision starting to get blurry with fatigue, your eyes struggling to focus as tiredness set it. remus wasn’t doing much better by the looks of it, but he willed himself to stay awake for a few more minutes of review.

“hey, could you pass me that quill? need to write something down,” he mumbled, one hand propping his head up as he looked down at a worn herbology book.

you obliged, picking up the quill and wearily handing it across the table to him, your fingers brushing slightly at the exchange.

he dropped the quill immediately, clutching his hand with his other and inhaling sharply, hissing through his teeth as if in pain.

you glanced up, more alert than you’d been moments ago, concerned for what his sudden reaction was about.

remus stared down at your hand that had just handed him the quill, eyeing the thin silver ring that decorated one of your fingers. of course, he thought. even with his…condition, he sometimes forgot of the danger of silver to his skin. oh, merlin’s sake.