What was Remus thinking as he went home from Hogwarts that day? It can't have been too happy. This actually came out very different than I had planned. O well, go with the flow. J.K. Rowling's toys are not mine. I just borrow them, and always put them back when I'm done. They're a bit scratched up, but I put them back.

Then Came the Moonlight

by Darkwing

Remus Lupin sighed into the cold evening air, his breath forming a little cloud, coming out with a puff before escaping silkily from his mouth. From the open window in his lonely compartment on the Hogwarts express, his enemy beamed wickedly down onto Lupin's face. It bathed his already pallid skin and made it appear completely white; like an opaque ghost. At the sight of the moon, a coldness dripped through his spine and he involuntarily shivered. The moon was waning now; he would be safe for a few precious weeks. He shut the window and drew the curtain in disgust.

I will sleep. He thought, slumping back into his seat. I will sleep tonight, and all through tomorrow, and all through the next day, and maybe forever. I will sleep, I will not think, just sleep . . .

But Lupin's mind would not let him fall to slumber. His wan figure would sink in the seat, his body feeling twice as heavy as it was. His head would nod onto his shoulder. His eyelids would slowly droop until he was almost there, almost into the safe haven of unconsciousness.

And then, in that moment of soft, sweet relief; as the dim, empty train car was replaced by blackness and a purple reminder of the light behind his lids, the images would come. He would jerk awake, his eyes seeing reality, and wishing that somehow he could just forget.

Oh, the happiness he had felt when he had realized! Sirius, his oldest friend Padfoot, so many years believed to be a traitor, a murderer, a heartless prisoner who had betrayed his closest friends, was innocent. Sirius was innocent! Sirius had spent 13 years in Azkaban as fodder to the Dementors; any happiness, any hope being fed upon be the evil creatures until there was nothing but empty despair, anguish for the loss of his friends, and bitter, helpless hatred toward the one true traitor, Peter Pettigrew. Those were the same 13 years Remus had spent alone and in poverty, with no friends anywhere and no one willing to pay him even the most modest salary for the most strenuous labor. He had no one to confide in; no friends at all. All people hated him, because of what he was. They sneered at him as he crossed the street in his ragged robes, and waited to catch him off guard at night in the dark alleyways . . .

Remus felt a pang of guilt for being so selfish. Compared to Sirius, he had been on holiday and in wonderful health and social regard to boot.

Sirius, I'm so sorry.

When Remus had realized Sirius was innocent, it was as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders; he had a friend in the world after all.

It's all my fault, Sirius.

Lupin could not forgive himself for what he had done, even though he never could have helped it. One night a month, his body was not his own.

"I'm sorry, Sirius." Lupin mumbled, his eyes closing again. He could remember his inward joy, walking back to theWomping Willow, knowing that he had a companion, and that with Pettigrew in custody, Sirius's name would be cleared. Remus had a paying job that he enjoyed, familiar friendly surroundings and people, and students who looked up to him and respected him, and he was going to have a life.

Then came the moonlight.

Remus's eyes snapped open again at the horrible memory. Anguish flooded his soul and he jumped up in a rage, thrust aside the curtains, and screamed out to the glowing moon.

"I HATE YOU!" he cried, driving a shaking fist at the glass and shattering the window in a futile attempt to reach and crush that horrid shining orb. Glass fell to the floor in a slow-motion shower, and Remus fell with it, hitting the ground with a thud.

He wanted to cry, to alleviate his sorrow and let it fall away in his tears, like the glass shards now lying with him on the floor. But his face remained dry. He was beyond tears.

How could I be so careless? He wondered despairingly. How could I possibly have forgotten?

Remus was aware of a dull pain on his arm, and sat up. He didn't see it until he turned his arm around to examine it. Then he realized it was all over him and the floor, flowing from a gash on his right forearm.

Blood.

Not something he was unused to, blood. How many times had he awoken in the Shrieking Shack, in his own shabby cabin's locked basement, to find himself covered with it and hurting terribly; marks of the wolf's rage at him for not letting it hunt other prey? But it was strange seeing it now, dripping from the open wound on his arm to stain his already dirty robes and form a little pool and seeping streams on the thin black carpeting.

He remembered, oh he remembered. It had been only two nights ago, that he, Sirius, Pettigrew, Harry, Ron and Hermione had been walking joyfully up the Hogwarts grounds to the castle to turn Pettigrew in, and he, Remus, had ruined it for them all.

The clouds had shifted.

The moon's eerie beams claimed Remus's soul, and the wolf had erupted from the empty body.

He had ruined all their lives.

He was a werewolf.

Moonlight glinted off of a piece of the former window. He took it in a shaking hand, sitting up on the floor. He watched it, turning it in his hand, seeing the light in it shift with the movement. The prismatic glass refracted the light to illuminate the deep scar on his chest. He gazed down at it. That was his mark, and it would never leave him. He was only four when he was bitten; any closer to the neck would have killed him.

Why couldn't it finish the job?

Lupin put a hand to the scar. It was smooth and cold. He felt his heartbeat on his worn fingers. The heart he had broken every time he fell in love, for fear he would hurt the girl, or worse. The heart that had shattered when Lily and James were murdered, and again when all his hope was once more lost after he had forgotten the wolfsbane potion in his rush to save Harry. The same heart that fed the wolf life through its veins.

Slash!

"Werewolf!" Lupin's clenched hand lashed at his other arm with the glass. It was jagged and sharp, but he was oblivious to
pain. In a rapid manic fury, he cut himself again and again, shouting cries of self-recrimination, trying to kill the monster inside. Slash! Slash! Slash! Red streaks appeared all over his left arm; deep, crimson, and seeping. Werewolf, monster, demon!

Lupin's breathing was sharp and ragged, and he bent over, dropping the bloody glass as he gasped to take in air. His scarred chest rose and fell rapidly. He didn't want to look at himself. His arms leaked blood that held lycanthropic cells. It glowed faintly in the moonlight.

He unclenched his eyes. He couldn't help but see it; on a large cracked piece of glass was his distorted face. Dark circles under his eyes combined with his pale skin and the twisting of his features made him look like some sort of phantom. He stared at his face for a moment longer, then jerked away. He couldn't bear the desolation in his eyes.

Lupin could remain sitting no longer. Again he collapsed to the floor, landing on the glass and blood that littered the black carpet. He lay there breathing heavily, sobbing without a sound or tear. He could feel his arms again, and they hurt terribly. The gashes were still bleeding profusely, but he was too weak to do anything but lie there and hate himself for the darkness he held. He lay on the floor, watching the moon shine onto his body, but lacking the strength to move to the shadows and hide from its vile light.

At the front of the scarlet engine, the sole other occupant glanced into a cracked magic Looking-Glass as he continued driving the train. The conductor sneered while watching the long line of hazy rail ahead. "Stupid bastard; hope the freak kills himself. One less werewolf for decent wizards to worry about." And he drove nonchalantly on, staring into the black pits of night.

Lupin's breathing was more steady now. His head ached like it had been struck by lightning and a thousand hammers. He felt the full weight of three sleepless nights bear down upon him. It was like gravity magnified to twice its normal force. He wondered through a half-awake mind if he could die there. What would happen if he did? Who would come to the funeral? Would there be a funeral at all? Dumbledore. Dumbledore would come. Dumbledore had trusted him so many times; and so many times he had deceived him. He never had the courage to tell the headmaster the truth about the Animagi, even when lives might have been at stake. All because I was afraid.

Lupin slowly opened his eyes despite the pain. He looked at his gashed arms, and the red trickling from the open wounds. It was werewolf blood, and would be forever. If I die, it won't be here. Not in this place, inclosed in fear, soaked in blood and hate.

I must be free of walls.

The conductor of the train saw a glimpse of movement in his Looking glass.

With some supernatural reserve of strength, Lupin raised himself to his knees.

"No way." Said the conductor, who hated all things that were not human, and he rose.

Holding a seat for balance with a wobbling hand, Remus reached for his fallen wand.

The compartment door swung open. Remus looked up in surprise. The conductor stood in the space, dim yellow light glowing from behind him. "No y' don't, werewolf." He raised his own wand, grinning. Remus glimpsed the face of the man in the doorway, his pitiless eyes smiling with humor. Then the man spoke the Unforgivable word. "Crucio.."

Pain streaked through Remus' body. He fell back again. His head was splitting into two, his skin was burning with fire, his bones were ringing and cracking and shouting and his entire body screamed in agony. Every nerve rang with pain beyond what he had ever thought possible. His body wanted to twitch and writhe, to curl up and die then and there. It wanted to scream make it stop, I'll do anything, just make it stop.

But Remus would not be afraid, not again. And there was one thing he had to do.

I will not die imprisoned by walls!

And somehow, despite the pain, Remus got up again, and reached forward. The Cruciatus curse rippled through his body, but he went on. He clasped trembling fingers around his wand on the floor, and lifted it with his hands shaking all the way. Just a little longer . . .

Remus clenched both hands on his wand. The other man realized too late. "Avada-" With the very last of his strength, Remus concentrated on the one desire left in his heart: freedom. "Disapparate." He whispered. Before the conductor was finished saying "Kedavra", Remus was gone.

Remus lay on the grass in the cold night air. The train ran on into the distance and was gone, leaving him alone on the forest edge. He had only enough power left to disapparate outside, only a few meters from the tracks. But it didn't matter; it was enough. Remus Lupin gazed up into the stars and smiled. The moon no longer seemed so out of place among them. Gentle wind blew across the cool grass and over his content face, wisping his dusty brown hair. He closed his eyes peacefully, thinking that the moon was actually quite pretty, really. And Remus Lupin finally got his sleep.

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