The moon was about to hit its peak in the next day or so--which meant that every effort he put forth was ten times as hard as it usually was. When he was sitting there, his body ached. When he walked, every step was agonizing. When the next day rolled around, he'd be tethered to the bed in Pomfrey's hospital wing, struggling through medicine after medicine--even though nothing worked. He still turned into a werewolf every full moon and nothing he did was going to stop that. Ever.
But before he was confined to a hospital bed and then locked in the Shrieking Shack, he usually went off in the quiet to read before his life took a turn for the dramatic. Which was what he was doing when he decided to open his journal to check on his friends. Sometimes Sirius liked to get himself into trouble--more trouble than he was worth--and that was when he spotted Esme's post about being stranded on the fourth floor.
Immediately, he gathered his things and set off to find her, limping his way through the halls until he finally found her hiding spot. What gave her away was the brightly colored dog. He was smelled ten times over what a normal human would be sniffed, but Remus didn't have time to convince Reggie he wasn't a threat. "Can you walk or should I carry you?" he asked abruptly as he knelt next to Esme, taking her wounded ankle in his hands as gently as he could.