Title: Nightmares

Archive: Ask me first, s'il vous plaît.

Pairing(s): none

A/N: Italics indicate thoughts. Also, once again, it's insanely short... I'm trying to work on making them longer, but it just isn't happening *sigh*

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Linkin Park owns their song "Easier to Run." I'm just borrowing them for fun and am making no money off of this.

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"wounds so deep they never show

they never go away

like moving pictures in my head

for years and years they've played

if i could change i would

take back the pain i would

...

sometimes i remember

the darkness of my past

bringing back these memories

i wish i didn't have"

-Easier to Run by Linkin Park

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"The first time is always the hardest," the healer said as she led the distraught wizarding family to a shed behind their house. A shed built for a purpose.

The mother set her young son, a six-year-old who was small for his age, down in the concrete building. The healer clamped shackles around the blond child's wrists, ankles, and neck. The shackles' chains were bolted to the cold floor.

The boy looked at the too-heavy shackles and chains in terror. "W-what are these for, Mommy?" he asked.

"To keep you from hurting people," his mother replied, her voice quavering.

"But I would never hurt anyone!" the boy exclaimed earnestly.

His parents made no answer as they closed the thick door, the heavy lock clicking loudly into place.

"Mommy? Daddy?" the boy called. No reply came.

"Mommy! Mommy!" and still no answer.

"MOMMY!!" he screamed. "MOMMY!! Let me out!!!" Tears ran down his pale cheeks. The boy had no idea what this was about.

The sun sank below the horizon, and the full moon rose. The boy's small body suddenly went rigid. An indescribable pain ripped through him. It was worse than anything he'd ever felt, including the "doggy" bite that had recently landed him in the hospital for weeks. He doubled over, screaming and clutching his middle. It felt as though his insides were twisting and moving around. He willed for the hurt to go away, but it only got worse.

He screamed louder; his bones ground painfully against each other as they grew and reshaped themselves. His amber eyes went wide as he saw his little hands twist into fierce paws, his nails into vicious talons.

The child thrashed against his bonds, his agonized cries changing to enraged snarls and growls as his face and throat became those of a wolf.

He felt a voracious, ungodly desire to be free, to hunt, to kill, to tear flesh and taste blood, he wanted out NOW.

Failing to break free and with no one else nearby, he turned his ire upon himself. His brutal fangs tore into the flesh and fur of his forelegs and chest. He slashed at his sides with his claws. Howling in the way only a werewolf can, he lashed out at the floor, the chains, everything within his reach. Hours and hours it went on.

Finally the sun's first pale rays alighted upon the werewolf's bloody hide. Soon a naked young boy knelt in the pool of blood where the beast had been. Why? What did I do? The child's mind couldn't comprehend what had happened. He only knew that he hurt, he didn't have any clothes, and that neither of his parents were near. He hugged his torn sides with his torn arms, crying in pain and shame...

Remus J. Lupin sat straight up in bed, cold sweat running down his body. He glanced at his alarm clock. One A.M. and the tiny star chart reminded him that it was only the first quarter moon. He still had a few more weeks...

With a sigh he lay back down. As much as he needed the sleep, he knew he would not get any for his memories had decided to keep him company again this night.