The night was peaceful and quiet, barely after sunset with the moon bright enough that Remus' mother let him play in the yard. He was pulling his favorite book along in his wagon, but running so much had tired him out, so he was sitting next to his wagon, almost nodding off to sleep laying on one of his father's old robes. The older children had gone off to Hogwarts, and he had spent the whole day alone, not that he minded, the other children usually ignored him anyway.

He drifted off to sleep, only blinking every so often as a firefly lit close to his face. Sometime, his sleepy six-year old mind wasn't sure how long, he heard soft steps on the grass. His mother, he thought, coming to bring him in, or his father, home from a long day of work; so he ignored it. Until he heard the growling.

Low, menacing, in his ear, growls split the quiet night. He opened his eyes in time to see two sets of ugly yellow eyes glaring at him before the pain split his shoulder as teeth sunk into it. He was lifted at the same time, claws scoring his back. Remus tried to yell, but it hurt so much that black spots flashed in front of his eyes. He felt himself hit the ground, the snapping of the screen door on their house, his father's screams and a flash of red light that took the werewolf flying off of him.

It howled once, looking at him again, tears blurring his eyes as Remus saw his own blood on the beasts teeth and passed out, not able to take it anymore.


"Your lucky, really, that he lived." Someone was saying, but Remus was still asleep. Or he must be. Everything was black, even when he tried to open his eyes. "That bite on his neck would kill just about anyone."

"But's he's still a—" it was his mother's voice, and he tried to speak to her, but his tongue was heavy and his throat was dry and he couldn't do it. What was she worried about, he wondered, what was he? He drifted back to the darkness and missed the end of it.


He stood at the window, watching the other children run around. His mother wouldn't let him near them. Not during the day, not at night, never. He was only outside when everyone else was shut indoors, and even then it was the backyard. Not that he cared, he had his books.

His father had said he should be able to go, but his mother had refused. "He's a werewolf, John."

"He's a child, Anna!" He had yelled back.

"He's a monster!" That was funny, Remus always thought, he didn't feel like a monster. Not even on those nights he couldn't remember.


The letter had been his saving grace. He had hidden it under his pillow after his mother refused to speak about it, and read it daily. He was magic. Maybe that's what his mother had called him. Magic, not a monster. He was a wizard. He smiled, one of his new scars making it stretch all the way to his ear.

His parents were wizards. His mother would have to be happy now, he was normal like them. He was magic, a wizard. Maybe she was just worried about him leaving.


The Hogwarts castoff celebration was beautiful, the castle decorated boldly in all the house colors. The Potters had given him the first English edition of "Dracula" and were getting pictures with their son. Sirius and Peter were standing with Peter's parents, small people who could not be mistaken for anyone else's parents. Remus held his book and his acceptance letter for ministry training, smiling as he searched the crowd for his parents.

His father was standing shyly at the edge of the crowd, drinking a nervous glass of Butterbeer at the mob of people surrounding him. "Where's mom?" Remus asked, his smile fading.

"She couldn't make it, but she sent this, said you needed to fill it out soon." Remus took the yellow, Ministry stamped packet and slid out the papers. "Dear Lycanthropic Individual, you are required to file this form before applying for any ministry approved positions…" Remus looked up at his father, the man trying to smile at him, his face not cooperating. He turned and fled back into the castle, no one bothering to stop him.


He stepped into the old Defense Against the Dark Arts class room, trailing his fingers along the desk. He let a tired smile show, he loved this place, especially this room. It smelled of books, and of parchment. A little dusty, but with a flick of his wand, he fixed it. He let out a long breath, happy, but infinitely tired.

As he unpacked him things, he found his registration tag wrapped in one of his four pairs of socks. He held it up, seeing how different his face looked when it wasn't covered in scars like it was now. He unconsciously ran a hand over his face, feeling the distortion along his jaw. He shoved the card back in, determined not to even look at it.


Nymphadora wouldn't listen. He was a monster. He wasn't safe. She was in danger every time she came near him. But oh, how he longed to kiss her. And touch her. And hold her in his arms as his wife. But he couldn't do that. He could never do that. Monsters didn't have wives. Monsters aren't happy.


He held the little boy in his arms. The tiny baby that held part of him. Teddy's face skewed and his hair went brownish gray like Remus', a tiny smile lighting up his son's face. "He's perfect." He told Dora, who was exhausted but happy lying on the bed.

"Like you." She answered.


Remus didn't even feel it. He saw Dora's face, and the light, but he didn't feel it when it hit. And then, everything was gone. He caught the tail end of a horrible scream, of grief and of pain, but he didn't know who it was. It was cut short. Chopped in half by the blackness.

And then, even that was gone. There was nothing. Nothing at all. He wasn't a monster anymore.

(A/N) Well, where that came form, I couldn't tell you. It is; however, a byproduct of Harry Potter weekend. Hope you enjoyed it