Disclaimer: All the characters here belong to J.K. Rowling, I'm merely borrowing them and taking them back to the beginning. The lyrics belong to the song "Doubt" by Bella Morte.

In the Shadow of the Moon

Remus Lupin's pale gray eyes flickered over the battered book in his hand, devouring it whole, as they always did when the 2nd year Gryffindor was reading a good book. He was completely oblivious to the world around him, even to the table of Slytherins being chastised by the librarian for laughing uproariously at a Hufflepuff, who had mysteriously found himself under the jelly-legs jinx.

Long fingers turned the page, and he continued to read in silence, his lips silently mouthing the words to his favorite passage. Dipping a bedraggled quill into a half-empty pot of ink, he ran the tip of it along a clean piece of parchment.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets its hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more; it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing

"Signifying nothing," he murmured to himself. Wizards and witches could say what they wanted about the muggle world, but this William Shakespeare wrote beautifully. Remus smiled slightly and flipped back a few pages.

When the book was suddenly pulled away, he reacted in his usual style. He blinked and looked up.

A vaguely familiar boy grinned at him, dark eyes dancing. He plopped down on the edge of the table and made a great show of looking at the title of the book.

"Macbeth? Merlin's arse, what's this?"

Remus felt his face flush hotly.

"It's nothing," he muttered quickly, his eyes downcast.

"Right." The boy gave him a knowing look and jumped up on the table, book opened in front of him, one hand pressed dramatically against his heart. "To bed, to bed! There's knocking at the gate: come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's done cannot be undone…."

"Mr. Black!" Madame Pince stalked over to the table, hands on her hips. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm reading," he replied innocently, lowering the book.

"Well, well. First time for everything, it seems." She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed the Gryffindor boy standing on her precious table. "Maybe you'd like to give a recital in detention. I'm sure Filch would enjoy such a sterling performance."

"Do you think so?" Sirius pursed his lips and pretended to give her suggestion some serious thought. "Hmm. I do live to brighten Filch's day, I really do." He looked at Pince with a pout. "Does that mean you don't like it?"

"Get down," she replied between gritted teeth.

"But I just got up here."

Remus watched in open-mouthed silence, with a mixture of awe and complete horror. He blinked at Sirius and then looked over at Madame Pince.

"Get. Down. NOW!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Do keep your voice down, please. This is a library after all."

Madame Pince stomped her foot in frustration and raised one trembling finger, jabbing it in the air between her and Sirius. "That's it, Mr. Black. Week's detention, starting now."

"Right this very minute?"

"YES!"

"But I just managed to sneak out of detention…oh, very well." Sirius jumped down from the table and grinned at Remus as he tossed him his book. It had long since soared past him and crashed into the wall before Remus realized he was supposed to try and catch it.

"See you around, Macbeth." Sirius winked at Remus, ignoring Madame Pince's pointed throat clearing. He leaned on the table for a moment, lowering his voice into a stage whisper. "She looks like a ruddy teapot, doesn't she? I expect there will be steam billowing out of her ears at any moment."

"Out, out, out!" Madame Pince hissed. The table of Slytherins shushed her with a snicker, as did the rest of the students lounging around the darkened library. Sirius just laughed, made a little bow, and darted out of the library just as Madame Pince moved to throw a book at him.

Remus heard one chuckle continue on, even as the chorus of laughter died down. It had a pleasant ring to it, and he continued to hear it, even as Madame Pince turned her glare toward him.

"Something funny, Mr. Lupin?"

"N-no," he stammered, finding it hard to talk through the laughter. And then he realized what he was doing. He was laughing. He was laughing in the hallowed, silence-is-golden library.

The thought of he, Remus Lupin, laughing maniacally in the library caused him to howl all the louder, tears springing to his eyes. Madame Pince's face, which had faded to a miffed pink, quickly deepened once again into an enraged red.

"That's it!" she seethed. "Get yourself to detention."

The laughter ended abruptly. Remus looked at her with wide eyes and blinked. "D-detention?"

"Would you prefer expulsion?"

"No! N-no, of course not." Swallowing thickly, he stood up and nervously toyed with his ink well and quill. Detention. He had never had a detention, not ever. He just wasn't the detention type. Surely Madame Pince knew that…maybe if he apologized….

"You have THREE seconds to get out of my library and to detention, Laughs, or I will make sure that you never set foot in this library again!"

That was the ultimate threat. Without a word of protest, Remus bolted out of the library, upsetting the inkpot, and leaving Macbeth to become better acquainted with the floor.

"Look who's 'ere." Filch grinned, exposing his rotted, yellow teeth in all their hideous glory. He patted Mrs. Norris lovingly. "Looks like Blackie can't learn a lesson, don't it, love?"

"Hello, Filch old boy," Sirius said pleasantly. "You're looking exceptionally unwashed today."

Filch sneered at him, eyeing Sirius as a rabid dog would eye an unsuspecting kitten.

"I oughta hang you by your smug thumbs and let you dangle over the dung pile," Filch mused out loud.

"That sounds fascinating, truly. Didn't we do that last week?"

"I wish," Filch grumbled wistfully. He glared at Sirius. "Let's see 'ere. You skipped out on detention, only to get another one. What are we going to do with you?"

Sirius shrugged. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Damn right I will." Filch grinned with a relish. "I got the perfect task for you."

A winded Remus Lupin came rushing up, his light brown hair hanging in his eyes, his gray eyes downcast.

"What do you want?" Filch muttered, glaring at the intruder.

Remus lowered his head even more and mumbled something under his breath.

"Speak up, boy, I ain't the floor."

Remus sighed and raised his head.

"Reporting for detention, sir."

Filch raised an eyebrow, and Sirius gave Remus a sidelong glance.

"Detention? You?" Filch let out a bark of laughter. "This must be my lucky day."

Remus swallowed thickly and grew noticeably paler. Sirius heartily clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him to the ground.

"Don't fret, Macbeth. Filch is just an old softie, deep down. Aren't you, Filch?"

"Ha!" Filch sneered, his sunken eyes glowing with mirth. "You're in for a rare treat, boys. A rare treat indeed."

Both boys stared blankly at the two objects Filch pulled out of his patched pocket.

"Why are you caring those around? You obviously don't use one."

Filch shoved a toothbrush into Sirius's hand, and then into Remus's.

"I'm going to introduce you a good friend of mine, brats."

"You have a friend?"

"Oh, yes, Blackie boy. We're real close. Do you want to meet him?"

"Not particularly."

Filch looked at Remus.

"Uh, sure. Sure, I'd love to meet your friend."

Filch grinned. "Follow me, brats. And don't dawdle." Wordlessly, Remus fell into step behind Filch, followed closely by Sirius, who whistled a merry little tune. Wandering students called out to Sirius and waved, and he waved back jovially. A pair of Gryffindor boys, one tall and skinny, the other short and plump, seemed to be extra amused, and laughed loudly as they passed.

Filch lead the pair deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle. Remus started to get a little nervous, but Sirius only increased the volume and pitch of his whistling.

Filch stopped in front of a dark, peeling door at the far end of the hallway directly above the dungeons. Giving the boys a withering glance, he opened the door and gestured for them to enter.

"Did you invite us home for tea?" Sirius asked offhandedly, glancing around the abysmally dank and squalid room that Filch called home. "Told you he's a softie, Macbeth."

"Where's your, uh, friend?" Remus asked apprehensively, wrinkling his nose at the stench invading his nostrils.

Filch inclined his head toward a door at the far end of the room. "He's in there."

Remus looked at Sirius. Sirius grinned, shrugged, and led the way across the room, opening the door Filch had gestured at.

"Your wands."

Remus plunged his hand into the pocket of his robe, his fingers curling protectively around his wand. Why did he want their wands? Who was this friend?

"Is that necessary, Filch old boy?"

"Oh, yes. Wands, or three months detention."

Sirius casually handed over his wand and nudged Remus, who slowly pulled his own wand out of his pocket.

Filch's smile widened. "In you go, boys."

"What's your friend's name?" Remus whispered, peering into the dark, closet sized room.

"John." Laughing gleefully, Filch shoved both of the boys into the room, shutting the door behind them. Caught unaware, Remus tripped over the edge of his robe and stumbled to his knees. Sirius, shoved in directly behind him, fell over him and landed with a thud and a muttered oath.

"It's dark as a tomb in here, Filch!" Sirius called out. "I can't see a bloody thing!"

"There's a lamp. Pretend you're on a treasure hunt." Both boys heard the clicking of a lock and then a muffled series of footsteps before a door slammed.

"Crazy git," Sirius muttered. "You all right, Macbeth?"

"It's Remus. And I'm fine." He squinted into the darkness and made out a few shadowy shapes. "I think the lamp is to your left."

"Bugger me, you must have quite a pair of eyes. Can you get to it?"

"I think so." Remus crawled across the damp floor toward the object that was roughly shaped like an oil lamp. His fingers fumbled over it, nearly sending it crashing to the ground. He trailed his fingers over the ground next to it, searching for muggle matches. When he found them, he tried to recall how they were used. Remembering something from muggle studies class, he pulled a match from the box and struck it against the side of it. A flame immediately flared up, and Remus quickly pressed it against the wick of the oil lamp.

"Oh, bloody hell."

"What?" Remus turned around, and then he saw where they were.

They were in the filthiest, dingiest, most decrepit bathroom he had ever seen. He looked at Sirius, and Sirius looked back.

"I think I know who 'John' is," Remus murmured under his breath.

"Who?"

He pointed to the toilet. Caked in years worth of grime, enough to make even the most devout house elf run screaming into the night.

Sirius's dark eyes widened. "You have got to be kidding me."

Remus swallowed down the sudden horrified lump in his throat. "I'm afraid not. 'John' is a slang term some muggles use for, well, the commode."

Sirius raked his fingers through his thick dark hair as he stared bleakly at the toilet. "I'm not touching that thing."

Remus wordlessly picked up the bucket perched next to the rusted sink and started to fill it with water. A fresh cake of soap, obviously never touched, was plucked from the sink and tossed into the bucket. He then heaved the bucket into his arms and carried it over to the toilet, sinking to his knees to place it on the moldy floor.

The two boys sat together in silence for a long moment.

"We're supposed to scrub that thing."

"Yes."

"With these toothbrushes."

"Yes."

"Without magic."

"So it would seem."

"Right." Sirius stared at the filthy toilet. Remus fiddled with the hem of his robe.

"I don't suppose you want to try to break down the door?"

"It's worth a shot." Remus looked up at Sirius, and Sirius grinned.

Two seconds later, both boys were attacking the door, shouting at the top of their lungs. As Sirius rammed his shoulder against the door, with the help of a running start, Remus pummeled it with his fists.

By the time Sirius had gone hoarse, and Remus had managed to inflict more damage to his fists than to the stubborn door, they came to the conclusion that escape was impossible. Remus slumped down in the corner and rubbed his bruised flesh. Sirius paced back and forth.

The toilet remained ominously silent, as did Sirius and Remus.

"We could just get it over and done with," Remus finally suggested, studying the rainbow array of purples blooming along the side of his hand.

Sirius came to a halt. Glaring viciously at the toilet, he ripped off his robe and tossed it aside.

"W-what are you doing?" Remus stammered, his face reddening.

"Merlin's arse, Remus, I rather not burn my entire wardrobe tonight. At least flesh is washable. Granted, it will take at least ten boiling showers to get the Filch germs off…." He glared again at the toilet and started to loosen his red and gold tie.

Remus lowered his gaze, suddenly entranced by a loose thread dangling from his sleeve. He wrapped it around his finger and gave it a sharp tug.

"Stupid prat. I'd like to shove his face in that toilet," Sirius muttered under his breath, working the buttons on his uniform shirt. He yanked it off and added it to the pile.

"He probably drinks out of it already." Remus watched his sleeve slowly begin to unravel as he continued to tug on the loose thread.

"You're right, he probably does. I wouldn't put it past him." Sirius smirked and unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down around his ankles. Hopping from one foot to the other, he tugged them off completely. He then looked down at his underwear and nodded. "There we go, all the important bits covered."

Remus chanced an upward glance, and if he hadn't been so horribly embarrassed, he probably would have found the visual of Sirius Black trapped in Filch's disgusting lavatory, dressed in nothing but underwear, socks, and shoes, highly amusing.

"Well, then, let's get started, shall we?" Remus said with false cheer, twisting his fingers around the toothbrush Filch had given him.

Sirius glanced at Remus. "Come on, don't be shy."

"W-what do you mean?"

Sirius just laughed, his dark eyes sparkling impishly. "Never mind. If you want to get your robe covered in toilet gunk, hey, go for it." He shrugged and crouched down by the bucket after retrieving the toothbrush he had dropped. Wrinkling his nose, he blew his hair out of his eyes. "This is asking for too much, even from a member of the brave house."

"I'm sure Godric himself would agree." Remus slowly took off his robe, but he left on his uniform. He then moved to the side of the bucket opposite Sirius and tried not to notice how much grubbier the toilet was at close range.

Sirius studied the pristine toothbrush for a moment before plunging it into the bucket. "Maybe we should tell Filch what these little buggers are really used for."

"Maybe." Remus rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing pale, thin forearms. He quickly dipped his toothbrush into the bucket and swirled it around.

Minutes passed with only the sound of bristles against corroded porcelain breaking the silence. The water in the bucket quickly turned black, and Remus dumped it into the sink and filled the bucket with fresh water.

He tucked his knees under his chin as he continued to run the toothbrush over an exceptionally crusted area of the toilet seat. Several more minutes passed, along with four more buckets of water, as the two boys continued their detention task.

"Remus?"

"Yes?"

"We're friends now, right?"

Remus, startled, glanced over at Sirius, who still had his eyes fixed on his side of the toilet. Friends? He didn't have any friends, not really. He spoke when spoken to, laughed when everyone else laughed, but that was about the extent of it.

He didn't know what to say. Did he mean it? He stole another furtive glance at Sirius through his hair.

Sirius smiled at him, and he found himself slowly smiling back.

"Sure. Sure, we're friends."

"Great." Sirius beamed for a moment, before returning his attention to the toilet. "So, tell me, friend to friend…what happened to your arms?"

The toothbrush in Remus's hand nearly fell into the toilet. He felt his face redden, and instinctively his gaze traveled down to his bared arms.

Cast into sharp relief by the lamplight, the jagged scars, some silvered with age, others raw and red, were on prominent display against the moon-pale flesh they had ruined.

Remus exhaled sharply and moved to roll down his sleeves. A hand on his arm stopped him.

He looked up, eyes dark and bleak, to see Sirius watching him.

"It's all right, Remus."

His eyes flickered downward. The bathroom, merely small at first, was now claustrophobic; the walls were closing in. His lungs were screaming for air; it took him a few moments to realize he was holding his breath.

"Remus."

What excuse could he use? His brain, always so quick to jump to a challenge, seemed frozen. Excuses for missing class once a month were easy enough; he tended to be pale and sickly looking, even when it wasn't a full moon. It wasn't difficult to lead everyone into believing he had a proclivity for illness. Headaches, influenza, colds, sore throats, fever….

What could plausibly explain two arms lacerated with scars?

He felt gentle fingers wrap around both of his slender wrists. His first instinct was to flinch, to pull away, but he remained still, numb, his mind too occupied with racing through excuses to command his body to run.

He was a twelve-year-old boy. Twelve-year-old boys always got into scrapes, right? Perhaps he had fallen from a tree…no, he wasn't the sort that climbed trees…maybe he had gotten attacked in the Forbidden Forest…no, he wasn't the sort that wandered into forbidden territories….

"Hey. Look at me, will you?"

Remus gnawed fiercely on the inside of his lip, but his gaze slowly shifted upward from his arms.

Sirius smiled at him softly, even though there was a solemn glimmer of concern in the dark depths of his eyes.

"Tell me about Macbeth." His thumbs moved lightly over the drumming pulse points in Remus's wrists.

"Macbeth?" Remus frowned.

"Yeah. What's it about?"

"Oh. Well, it's about a man who wanted to be king."

"Wanted him some power, did he?"

"Well, yes. Three witches told him he would be king, you see."

"Witches?" Sirius raised an eyebrow. "They talk about witches in muggle books?"

"Well…they're more like old hags chanting over bubbling cauldrons." Sirius laughed, and Remus smiled wanly. "The king was a kinsman of his, a good friend. Macbeth was his general. But he invited him over to stay at his manor, and killed him."

"Killed him? Just because the witches said he'd be king?"

"Yes. It ends badly for him, though. His wife, who convinced him to go through with the murder, goes mad, and almost everyone dies."

"Blimey. Sounds rather gloomy."

"It's beautiful. Poetic." Remus blushed and shrugged.

"Maybe I'll read it sometime." Sirius, his fingers still resting on Remus's wrists, glanced at the toilet. "We're almost done."

"Are we?" Remus glanced blankly at the toilet, which had almost regained the white color it was born with. "Well, look at that."

"Yeah." Sirius gave a lopsided grin. "If all else fails, we should seriously consider becoming house elves after graduation."

"I think we're a bit too tall."

"And we're far too pretty."

Remus smiled despite himself. Sirius patted his wrists and let his hands fall away. Brandishing his toothbrush like a sword, he dipped it back into the bucket.

Remus sighed with relief as Sirius resumed his vehement scrubbing of the toilet. He smiled gratefully, even though he knew the boy couldn't see it. He fought the urge to hug him and thank him profusely, instead choosing to scrape some more filth off of the toilet with the toothbrush.

A half-hour later, the boys sat back to survey their work.

"I don't think Merlin himself could have done any better," Sirius said with satisfaction. "Even Filch, old crotchety loon, can't complain."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll find a way." Remus rolled down his sleeves and rubbed his chapped hands against his trouser legs.

Sirius laughed and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. He walked stiffly to his pile of clothes and started to pull them on.

"Is John all shiny and pretty?" a gruff, muffled voice asked from the other side of the door.

"He's absolutely breathtaking, Filch. Better watch out, or I'll steal him away from you." Sirius winked at Remus and buttoned up his shirt, leaving his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He glanced slyly at the door as he heard Filch start to fumble with the lock. Glancing over at Remus, he held his finger to his lips.

Remus stood up and stretched, keeping his eyes on Sirius as he went to fetch his robe. Just before the door opened, Sirius pulled something from his pocket and tossed it into the toilet.

Filch gifted each of them with a sneer before looking at the toilet.

"Not bad," he admitted grudgingly. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Next time, you'll wash my skivvies. Got it?"

"Can't wait. See you later, Filch!" Sirius smiled, grabbed Remus by the arm, and pulled him out of the bathroom. As the two boys hastened across Filch's deplorable bedroom, an explosion rang out. Sirius hooted and quickened his stride, still holding fast to Remus.

"BLACK! I'm going to tear out your insides and feed them to my cat!"

Sirius ducked around the corner into the hallway, and Remus lurched after him. They dashed madly down the hall, taking the steps two at a time.

"What did you throw in there?" Remus huffed as they skidded out onto the first aboveground level. Sirius nearly plowed into the wall, causing a few of the more indignant paintings to tell him to slow down and walk like a proper gentleman.

"Oh, just a Dungbomb. Rather fitting, given John's parentage." Once he was certain that Filch wouldn't catch up, Sirius slowed to a more leisurely pace. He let go of Remus's arm and shoved his hands into his pockets, whistling off key.

Remus brushed his hair out of his eyes and fell into step beside him, the surreal nature of this situation not lost on him. Here he was, walking side by side with one of the most outgoing, amusing people he had ever met. And he wanted to be his friend.

One moment, he had been the loner kid reading a muggle play in the library. In the next moment, he had been labeled a hooligan and sent to detention. And now…now what was he?

"Knut for your thoughts."

"Mine?"

"No, the other boy walking beside me."

"Oh." Remus felt his face flush again. Merlin, he really was thick, wasn't he? It was no wonder he had never attempted to converse with other students before, beyond classroom work and common room niceties.

Sirius chuckled. "I bet I can read your mind. I bet you're thinking 'Merlin's tatty beard, this boy is crazy. He's offensive, loud, crude, and a downright wanker.'"

"No, surely not," Remus replied quickly. But then he couldn't help but smile. "All right, maybe the crazy part."

"Aha! I smell the rise of a shining new star in Divvies next year." Sirius winked at Remus.

He smiled back shyly, but there was a question nagging at him.

"Sirius?"

"Yes?"

"Um…." He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm wondering…"

"Why you?"

"Yes! I mean…."

Sirius patted him on the back. "I understand. You're wondering why I suddenly decided to be your friend?"

"Well…yes. Sorry, I'm not very good at…."

"Talking? Don't worry, we'll work on that." Sirius laughed as he steered them toward the Gryffindor dormitory. "A few days with me by your side, Remus, and you'll be droning on longer than Binns in History class. Not nearly as dull, of course."

"Merlin, I hope not." As Sirius gallantly called out the password to the Fat Lady, his hand still on Remus's boyish shoulder, Remus had almost forgotten the question he had asked. And he had certainly forgotten that Sirius had not answered it.