Title: Call of the Werewolf

Author: Okamikaze

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't hate.

If Remus wasn't a werewolf, he wouldn't be Remus.

Sirius has come to terms with this notion in his third year at Hogwarts, and yet he still hated the beast. It made his friend who he is- a quiet, prim and proper boy- but it also added age to his boyish body. The usual angles that defined youth, in Remus, seemed to characterize countless night alone, with the beast tearing at his flesh from both within and without. The scars and scrapes that would usually come from heroic battles with his enemies, or the broomstick, Sirius knows to have come from the beast. Its seeking human flesh, and Remus not letting it, the beast wanting to spread its darkness on humankind, Remus letting it rip and tear his flesh, bearing the pain that the beast unleashed.

Sometimes Sirius wondered how Remus would have turned out if he was never bitten by the werewolf. Would he still be the proper, bookish boy he was now, or if he would be more like James and himself. He wondered if those times he spent in the hospital wing would be from pranks, random visitations with no specific schedule, and not timely visitations after every full moon. The thought was entertaining, however hard it was to imagine, and Sirius didn't think that Hogwarts could handle three troublemakers- Peter didn't count- and Remus would always be the one to mend and heal any bruises on their friendship, he would always be the rational one, the caring one, and the beast could never take that away.

It is that caring for others, that concern, which made Remus lock himself alone with the beast every full moon, letting it rip and tear and rave, while he took the pain that was meant for others. Adding more scars to his boyish body, more scars which didn't belong.

Sirius hated the beast, and yet, he was pacing around the willow with Wormtail and Prongs, waiting, listening-

-there-

the werewolf's call. Sirius hated it, but he would always listen for it, and follow it because somewhere inside that hellish howl, there was the call of his friend, the call he would always follow.