Saturday, 28th February 1976. 13 days after the full moon.

Remus joined the Ravenclaw table after dessert. For the first part of dinner, he had remained on the Gryffindor's, sitting next to Lily Evans and her friends, as he now usually tended to do. Maybe he didn't want to be disrespectful towards his house, or perhaps he needed some time for himself after having spent the majority of the day with them, but Judson understood. If it were for him, he would never sit at another table.

Maverick was showing Juniper and him the newest drawing he had made when Remus showed up, smiling and waving his hand as he slumped on the seat in front of Judson. Their eyes met for a moment before Judson returned his gaze to the sketchbook on the table. He loved when Remus willingly decided to join them, but that didn't mean it didn't make him feel nervous from time to time.

Remus followed his eyes until they fell on a drawing of the whole Great Hall, seen from the entrance, and his mouth went agape. Somehow, Maverick had been able to incorporate the motion, the lights from the candles, and perhaps the sound, too—all just with a single pencil.

"Did you do this?" he asked Maverick, who nodded his head as he inspected his job.

"It could be better, though," Maverick hummed, "but it turned out alright, I guess."

Remus dragged himself closer to him to have a better look, and pointed at the open sketchbook before him. "Can I see more?"

"Be my guest."

Eagerly, Remus flipped through Maverick's drawings. He was in awe of his talent, considering he couldn't even draw a proper star, as he claimed. Maverick placed a pencil on his hand and asked him to give it his best try, and Judson almost laughed at what resembled a triangle with thorns coming out from its sides. He didn't laugh, though—his stars also looked like a complete disaster.

"Ah, this one's beautiful!"

Judson glanced at the drawing from behind the cup he was taking to his mouth, and almost spilled half of the liquid inside. In the paper, a boy with glasses was reading a book while a fireplace burned in the background. Judson remembered having been so invested in the story to even notice Maverick had been drawing him for at least an hour.

"Ah yes, one of my best works," Maverick explained, puffing his chest with pride. "He didn't know I was drawing him or else he would have made it impossible for me. Not that I care, I know his pretty face by memory at this point, but it always turns out better when my muse is behaving, which that day he was."

"Fuck off," Judson said, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his cup. "I'm always up to lend you my face for your drawings. You should be thankful."

"And I am! That doesn't mean you aren't a pain in the arse when it comes to it, though."

"Same goes to you," he muttered, stabbing a strawberry with his fork.

Judson was used to that kind of complaint. Every time Maverick asked him to pose, he tended to have a lot of conditions and quirks he wasn't probably aware of. "Turn your head to the right, please," and, "stop fucking moving your eyes, I can't get the shape right," were some of the lines scaping his lips when he was in his artist mode. And when Judson dared to point out he needed to do something—say, breathing—, he'd get a tap on his head with the pencil and a remark on his misbehaviour.

"Lupin, would you be my new muse? Considering my current one is a bit annoying."

Judson let out a dramatic gasp. "I thought I was your only muse."

"And what about me?" Juniper jumped in, a hand placed over her chest. Maverick clicked his tongue and dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

"Dears, an artist needs variety—and unprotesting muses." He turned to Remus again. Poor thing, he looked terrified. Maverick pouted, "Can I draw you again, please? I don't need extravagant poses, just presence."

"Yeah, sure," Remus said with a chuckle, not sounding sure at all, and Maverick clapped.

"Brilliant! Now we practise. Pretend I'm drawing you."

Remus thought for a second, and stretched his back, making his spine crack. He extended his arms upwards, slightly to both sides—each and every one of his bones cracked and at least one of them broke, Judson was sure. Once done, Remus straightened his back and lifted his chin, as if holding a crown on top of his head. Judson wondered if he could lend him some of those unnecessary centimetres he had gained while he silently admired him.

"I wish I could stand like that all the time," Juniper sighed, leaning in on the table. "My spine is permanently bent at this point."

"At least he isn't like, three heads taller than you," intervened Judson, his eyes not leaving Remus. "And I'm talking about Mav-sized heads."

"Don't be silly," Remus scoffed, giving him a side glance from his super-difficult task, "It's hardly two."

"Same thing."

Remus maintained his chin raised for a while as Maverick drew him, and appeared to be a complete natural. He didn't have to force anything—he was just that beautiful. If it hadn't been for his strict schedule, Judson would've stayed there and watched him being stone still all evening long. But duty called as the Great Hall began to empty.

"Well," said Judson, looking at his watch with a sigh. Collecting his stuff, he threw Juniper a glance, "we have to go."

"We do?" she said, absolutely confused. "What for?"

"Does 'patrol' sound familiar to you?" said Judson in disbelief. "Are you aware you're a prefect?"

"Now?" Juniper layed her arms and head on the table, and whined. "Don't want to go."

"You do you." Judson crossed his pack and made his way out. Ridiculously enough, when he was at his start point, he looked at his watch again, and noticed he had seen the time wrong, and now he was an hour earlier than required. Great. Fantastic. Fucking excellent. He wasn't returning to the Great Hall—for what, exactly? For Juniper to shout, "Ha!" at him? He'd rather jump from the highest tower and into the Black Lake for the giant squid to swallow him in a single slurp.

He found a deserted corridor and sat in one of the empty benches there, waiting patiently, and definitely not looking at the time every five minutes. A minute before the correct time, he jumped up and started pacing his usual patrol route.

At the end of the first hallway he turned was the entrance to the Gryffindor common room—not that he had planned it that way. Right when he least expected it, for real this time, Sirius Black appeared from the corridor that ended right in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, and leaned on the wall, as if waiting for someone. He hadn't noticed Judson, but when he approached with his arms crossed, he groaned, amused.

"Good evening," he said in a mocking tone, and Judson had a minuscule suspicion he was not wishing him a good night.

"What are you doing here?" asked Judson, sternly. "Go to sleep now. It's past your bedtime."

Sirius scoffed. "Or what? You're going to poke me to death with your hat?"

Okay, he may have crossed the line a bit by sending him to bed, but that was personal. He did not just say that.

"10 points from Gryffindor, that is," Judson said, completely in awe and pointing his finger at him, "I'm the prefect."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Whatever." The door's slam resonated through the hallway, and Judson stood there, all alone.

He sighed, proud. There it went, his good deed of the day.

Tuesday, 9th March 1976. 6 days until the full moon.

As he rummaged through his rucksack's mess, Remus found the Ancient Runes notes Juniper had brought him on the last full moon. He had completely forgotten to give them back to their rightful owner, who turned out to be a studyholic. He got to the conclusion it was time to return them, so he left his belongings scattered all over his bed and got out in search of Judson.

There were two possible locations where he could find him: the Ravenclaw tower or the Library. As far as Remus got to know him, he knew Judson couldn't discern between study time and free time. Since the Library was on the way to the west side of the castle, he decided to take the long path. Maybe he'd come across Judson in the meantime and get everything done sooner.

But honestly, his laziness was stronger than him. He pictured the Marauder's map in his head, and located the nearest secret corridor that could make his walk faster, parchment in hand. He strolled through a deserted hallway and turned a corner, where students reappeared again. Remus stashed his hands on the pockets of his trousers in an attempt to look casual, until he heard a pair of voices that made him come to a halt.

"I know how to keep a secret."

"But that's not the issue anymore, Sergei."

Well, guess he'd found Judson.

Remus searched with his eyes for the place where the voices were coming from, but couldn't spot them. The sound was muffled, as if they were far away. A normal student wouldn't have heard a thing, but he wasn't a normal student. He resumed his walking towards the sound, this time at a much slower pace.

"I've already explained it to you, it's more complicated than that."

"What are you so afraid of?" Sergei asked in an annoyed whisper.

"It's easy for you to say. How many times have your housemates approached you because of this?" Sergei remained silent. "See? I'm sorry, I won't do it."

"I thought you didn't care what other people said."

"I don't! I don't, but there's... this one thing is enough."

Remus felt bad for eavesdropping, especially because he could sense how uncomfortable Judson was feeling with Sergei around. Considering what he had heard about them and what had happened a while back in the Library, he figured he'd rather be anywhere else but there.

He quickened his steps, hoping to, perhaps, be able to save Judson from the altercation. But when he finally spotted them, Judson had turned around and was walking away through the other end of the corridor. Remus looked at Sergei, who passed a hand through his hair and strode as calmly as he could by his side, not sparing him a glance. He considered for a moment going after Judson, but decided against it. He probably wanted to be alone; Remus understood that feeling.

Much to his regret, Remus returned to the common room and threw himself on one of the couches. The place wasn't too crowded, just a couple of first years doing homework in a corner and a group of sixth years gossiping near the fireplace. He didn't mean to intrude in their conversation—again—, but it was difficult to control his wolf senses in such a quiet environment. He tried to block the noise, but a certain bit of a Ravenclaw prefect snogging Hogwarts' designated drug dealer caught his attention.

They were speaking about them and the impropriety of a kiss that had happened, allegedly, two months prior, boldly and loud enough for everyone to hear, and Remus had the sudden urge to punch one of them in the face. What was wrong about two blokes kissing each other? Absolutely nothing. Did that interfere in their lives enough to be considered as problematic and scandalous? Remus didn't think so.

Loud voices echoed in his ears, and he turned to the stairs, from where James and Peter were coming down. He sighed, thankful to have some unprejudiced company, but Sirius appeared behind them, and any sense of relief he had felt left his body in the instant.

Remus hated losing control. It tended to happen surrounding the times of the full moon, and the last time it hadn't been pretty. The moment replayed in his mind over and over again, like a broken record. It sounded awful.

Sirius had been trying to apologise to him ever since he set a foot on the dorm the next day he'd found out about his doings. He didn't understand how much hearing his voice hurted Remus. It pained him deeply, so he pretended not to listen, even though he had caught every one of his words. Sirius assured him he was sorry, that he didn't mean to cause such a mess. Truth be told, Remus had problems believing him.

But he insisted. So much. Until Remus couldn't take it anymore.

"Shut up! SHUT UP!" He had screamed, pushing Sirius to the nearest wall of the dorm and pressing his arm over his chest. "Stop saying you're fucking sorry if you well know you don't mean it."

He couldn't control his words, his strength, his feelings. Sirius shivered under his grip, and Remus took in his aching gaze—a sight he was never going to forget.

"I trusted you, I fucking trusted you!" Remus screamed, his heart aching as every word left his mouth. "What were you thinking? That he'd be scared, and we'd laugh? I could've fucking killed him!"

The grip on Sirius' throat clasped even more, despite Remus wanting to stop. His troubled breath tickled Remus's nose, his hands tugged at Remus' wrists with despair. Not even then, Remus hadn't been able to push his impulses away.

"I could've murder him," he growled, his eyes sticking out. "I could've been a murderer... How dare you?"

Remus had seen his reflection in Sirius' eyes, where a flicker of fear and guilt laid. The image terrified him. He was slowly turning into what Sirius had made him. It was only then he released him from his grip. They hadn't spoken ever since.

Only mere seconds had passed, but Remus couldn't stay there any longer. He got up, despite the looks James and Peter were giving him, completely aware of Sirius's eyes following him around, and left through the portrait. He wasn't sure of where he was going, but anywhere seemed less suffocating than having to share the same air as him—not when his own thoughts were a good enough reminder of everything already.

His feet took him to the Great Hall. It was almost dinner, probably the reason he unconsciously decided to go there. Few people were sitting on the tables, as it was still early. He glanced over the Gryffindor one, but saw no one he'd rather spend his time with. His eyes then travelled to the only other table where he wished he could find someone of his liking. Gladly, he did.

Immersed in his own world, Judson sat with an open book and a board of Muggle chess in front of him. He seemed to be playing against himself, checking the book before moving the pieces on the opposite side. Remus hesitantly walked towards him, but Judson didn't notice him until he spoke.

"Hey. What are you doing?"

"Oh, hi," Judson said, a bit surprised. He adjusted the glasses on his nose. "Just practising some moves."

It was then Remus realised he was reading about chess movesets. The white pieces were on Judson's side, and he figured he was trying to overcome a predetermined set of the book. Remus tilted his head, in the hope of seeing the whole board, and pointed with his finger towards a white bishop.

"Move that one," he suggested, but Judson shook his head.

"I've already tried. Checkmate in three."

Remus frowned. He hadn't seen that. "Can I?" he asked, pointing at the seat in front of him.

"Of course." Judson smiled, and spun the board around so that the white pieces were now on Remus' side. Remus sat and stared at the board for a moment before moving a tower. Judson crossed his arms. "Check. Try again."

Remus glanced at him before retreating the piece and moving another one. Judson sighed.

"Check."

Remus moved another piece.

"Checkmate in two."

And another one.

"In three."

And another one.

"Checkmate in—"

"This is impossible!" Remus protested, shaking his hands in despair. Judson contained a smile.

"Nothing is impossible," he mumbled, leaning in and staring at the board once more. From a different perspective, Judson spotted a promising pawn, and extended an arm across the table to move the white piece two spaces. He smiled sufficiently. "See? Now the white is the only one who can win."

"But you're the one losing."

"I was white first. It's my game." Judson shrugged, satisfied with himself. Remus looked at him.

"You're really good at this."

"Well, I've been playing chess since I was a kid. I have practice." Judson shifted his eyes from the table to Remus. "Shall we play a real one?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Great." Judson adjusted the board in the middle. "What colour do you want?"

"Whatever. You choose."

"Okay." Judson thought for a second. "Which colour do you usually play with?"

"White."

"Then you're black." Judson spun the board again and started rearranging his pieces. Remus frowned, scoffing as he arranged his own pawns. Judson smirked. "What? You said I'd choose. I just made it more challenging."

"Yeah, for me," he snarled. "I'm sure you always play white and made this a lot easier for you."

"I can play with both." Judson shrugged, putting his last tower in place. "I do prefer being white, but I can deal with both since Juniper doesn't like to play with blacks."

"No, she doesn't," Remus giggled.

They started the game in silence, both of them focused on their moves. But Remus couldn't help being reminded of the conversation he had heard before, not when Judson was sitting in front of him as if nothing concerned him.

He wasn't sure if he should ask, but as he made his next move, he spoke.

"Uhm, I saw you talking to Yakov before. Is everything alright?" he inquired. Remus noticed how Judson's jaw clenched as he nodded, but his eyes didn't divert from the board. Judson moved a pawn. "Is he bothering you?"

"It's alright," he muttered. "I can handle it myself."

"I know! I didn't mean it like that," Remus hurried to say. "It's just—you don't have to deal with it alone. That's all."

Judson lifted his gaze from the board, boring his eyes into his. Wariness dawned upon him, and Remus wondered if someone had ever offered him the space to open up, or just an ear who could listen. Judson opened his mouth, but almost instantly closed it. A slight frown formed on his face, and he shook his head before returning to the game.

"Believe me, it's better this way."

Remus chose to not press the matter.

"I have your notes," he said instead, changing the subject. "The Runes' ones. I left them in my tower, but I'll give them back tomorrow."

"Don't worry," Judson dismissed with a smile, his shoulders losing tension, "you can keep them. I made a copy."

"Smart," Remus complimented, moving a piece. "Thank you."

"Oh, it was nothing," Judson said nonchalantly. "Were they useful?"

Remus nodded, earning a smile from him, even though he hadn't even finished checking them out.

What at first was supposed to be a casual match of chess, ended up becoming a more intense situation. Remus believed he had it easy in the beginning, yet every time he attempted any of his usual tactics, Judson knew exactly how to avoid the traps. It was really getting on his nerves.

"How audacious," Judson muttered once in feigned surprise, but an evil grin formed on his face as he made his next move, "but did you really think I'd let you win?"

Remus frowned at the challenge placed before him. Finally, he thought, a fair opponent.

"You're on."

Maverick and Juniper joined the table a couple of minutes later, and inspected the game with mild interest. Maverick gave commentator reports every once in a while, but they weren't frequent—no one dared to interrupt the match.

After Juniper passed him a glass of juice, and having taken his time to make his move, Remus waited for Judson to complete his turn. He