Disclaimer: The idea, the situation, and the little boy belong to JK Rowling. The poor narrator is unfortunately mine.

...

The sunlight reached for me - grasping with empty hands, squeezing past the canopy of trees above. It managed to filter through slightly, dabbing my face lightly with warmth. I woke immediately without moving - knowing something was wrong.

I wasn't supposed to be out here, lying on the cold mossy earth. Last night was all locked doors, chained hands – but the morning was free, and I was sore.

There were no signs of struggle, except for the purple ring around my wrists where the chains had broken. I relaxed slightly, feeling that maybe this instinctive dread was a little off. Perhaps there was no need to worry about what I'd done uncontained.

Nobody was hurt...

Though, I could still feel the energy. Whatever energy drove me to leave lingered – softly ebbing away as the human heart continued to pound. The full moon wasn't gone... it was somewhere across the earth, on the other side, still pulling me.

I would have to wait until nightfall, and see for myself that it was incomplete... then I could rest, and possibly remember all I'd done.

I stumbled along through the fallen branches and tall grass, surprised to see how far from my small house I really was. It seemed like hours after following dozens of misleading trails, that I finally emerged from the shadows and into the sight of my home.

I stepped inside, waiting for the familiar smell of dust to comfort me. The lazy warmth made me sleepy beyond all reason, but I felt no comfort as I slowly rested myself onto the tattered sofa.

A small dark whispering in the corner of my mind wouldn't leave – kept scratching, scratching. The haunting notion that disturbed my peace only made sleep come at a more stubborn pace.

I swore softly – assuming denial – and ran for a quick Sleeping Draught from the cupboard. I drained the entire bottle – not a very healthy choice, but this irritation was driving me into a vague madness.

I hadn't made it back to the sofa when the potion took its effect, and I felt my feet slip under me numbly, letting me fall into a bleary world of nothing...

Time held no grasp on me anymore – not here, where I continued falling. I felt a blanket over my mind, clouding my reason and my deliberate choice to shut out the memories. I must have been dreaming – I didn't remember this.

The pain was real, the scream was real, but I didn't remember it. God help me, did I do this?

I didn't remember a child screaming. I didn't remember any of it. Not the blood, the fight, the pain, the guilt, the endless screaming fit of tears and agony.

I cried anew, but my voice didn't carry. My throat ached with whatever words I yelled... I could have been howling for all I knew... for all I felt.

I felt nothing.

I didn't open my eyes until twilight had begun to pass. I must have slept twelve hours, at least. Far too long... but not nearly long enough. I slowly sat up, letting a fresh wave of pain wash over me as my head began to pound.

I rubbed the top of my head, feeling a bump that hadn't been there before. I must have hit the table while falling, though the pain seemed a blessing – more of a distraction than anything else.

But the memories always returned with the pain. Yet, how could they be memories? They weren't real, were they?

They weren't mine...

Oh, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt I'd done this. The monster – that beast – only he could tell me once I slept again with surety that the little boy was done for.

But a wrenching guilt told me he wasn't dead. No, he was worse off.

There was a boy... lost, innocent, and confused – an enemy on my territory.

I'd attacked him, I thought slowly, working out the details logically. But morbidly enough, I was still hungry. It was an awful thought to consider, but the only way I could tell that I hadn't...

I hadn't eaten anything...

I felt my stomach turn, and I turned my head – ready to retch. Breathing slowly, the dizziness subsided.

I wished I could just bleed. I could die now – it might even be painless. It would be a small sting for a moment – then freedom. No breath, no blood, no inner beast...

My eyes began stinging bitterly, as a new thought occurred to me. There would be no freedom at all. I clenched my teeth, unaware that I'd bit my tongue and it was bleeding... spilling out...

It would be pointless to die. Selfish even. I'd be free, no doubt, but the boy?

No. I'd done this to him. He was chained now, bound. I'd killed him... a small part of him. He was a beast now, just like me.

I couldn't kill him now – do him a favor. He was gone, passing like every phase of the moon... just another scar.

My scars were his now. He felt my pain, and I would always feel his.

I would forever be his demon.

...

AN: A little dark, eh? Probably darker than my other stuff, but I'm not sure...
Before anybody asks - yes, the little boy is supposed to be Remus.

I really need to write some comedy.