Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of the characters mentioned, I own only the plot for this little fic here.

When one lives with a condition such as mine, it is easy to see why people have a problem getting close, in body and in spirit. But it does not hurt any less when I see the fear in their eyes when they learn of what I am; learn what a danger I am to society.

Being that I was a small boy when I was bitten, you would think that over time, I would have gotten used to the stares when people find out what I am; used to the fact that people run from me, even when the moon has long ago waned, and I am no longer a threat.

They expect to see the wolf behind my dark eyes; somewhere in the shadows, creeping forward as if to attack. None of them see that while I am not transformed, the wolf is nothing but a silent entity inside of me, waiting patiently for its next chance to return.

Yet in all my years with my curse, I have never been able to get used to the piercing, snarling stares that come my way. The small boy in me; for I refuse to let that part of my childhood innocence die, cries painful tears every time I have to hold my head high as I walk down the street, when sometimes all I want to do is listen to the child in me, and find a quiet place, to sit alone in my grief.

There have been many, many weak attempts at finding a cure for this curse. But these weak attempts have been at best, half-hearted, for no-one wants to associate with my kind. I do not judge them. The fear that was instilled in all in the first war is not something that can be avoided. The werewolves were toys back then, people feared that they would come for them on the command of Lord Voldemort; and regardless of the lifestyle I chose, they turned their back on me as well, for in their eyes, I was just the same; a beast who would destroy their lives.

Is it wrong of me to ask why they should shun me? I don't think there was anyone who ever extended an arm to me before Albus Dumbledore; and that man saved me from myself. I had been existing without a purpose for many a year; still deeply affected by the betrayals and loss of my friends.

My friends...

I missed them all more than I could imagine possible. Even Peter, though he had betrayed us, was a good person; strange, but still a good person. It is not always the fault of the person when they are corrupted. Being easily led is a weakness; one that ultimately led him down the wrong path. I would never forgive Peter in a thousand years if I had them...but I had accepted his role in all of our fates.

James; I could never imagine surviving all my years at Hogwarts without that boy, and then man by my side. He had been, it is hard to explain; a lone source of joy at times, for want of a better way to explain. He was unfailingly cheery when we were children, and he always had some trick or another up his sleeve. The pranks he played, even the ones I would not join in with on principle, were unfailingly funny, and I was so glad that he had picked me to be one of his best friends. I felt lucky, that someone such as he could accept me, even when he found out what I was. Despite what I was.

And then there is him.

The one person who captured my heart in every way possible, and never let it go. As youth's we were close. He was my confidante, and I was his. We shared every aspect of our lives together, staying up and talking late into the night whilst everyone around us slept. He was the first person to figure it out; the person who spoke to the others when we were only twelve years old. The person who made me feel human, even when he knew of my curse.

This only made it more painful when I thought that it was him who had betrayed us all. When Peter was assumed dead, and James' orphan son lay in the arms of his vile family, I crumbled. I could not believe that the man I loved was the reason for all the hurt and pain around me. The hurt and pain inside of me.

Sirius Black...

His return was not something I anticipated; nor was I ready for it. Seeing him that night in the shrieking shack, everything I had ever felt for him came rushing back, and the betrayal would have been forgiven in that moment; as soon as I had him back in my arms. I longed to embrace him after so long; we did not get a chance to be alone for a fairly long time.

I could not have told you at what stage in our friendship that my feelings became more. They were hidden until our seventh year; and until that day I had no idea that he returned my feelings. That he felt more than just friendship for me. That chaste kiss on the lips as we sat on one of the tables in the common room set my world aflame; and I know it's clichéd, but the abruptness of it, combined with the heated blush that rose on his cheeks not seconds after he realised what he had done, made me fall in love with him several times over.

When I kissed him back that night, it was slow, hesitant, yet he was full of a passion I had not heard expected from him. He was gentle, as though he was testing the grounds, and he looked into my eyes, unblinking, baring his soul to me. We stayed like that for a long time, foreheads pressed together, unmoving, unspeaking; relishing in the heated moment that had now passed.

I knew I was his forever from that point; yet it was only when we cemented our relationship, outside of Hogwarts, months later, that the full extent of what I felt for him became true.

When he was taken away, he took a part of me with him.

There was some childishness in him when he returned from Azkaban, all those years later. He was not the man I had fallen in love with; yet he was more the man I wished I could be. He defended me whenever someone dared to make comments about my Lycanthropy. He seemed to think it was unnecessary to mention it. And when they told me I would have to go undercover with the werewolves; he was devastated.

He clung to me like a child that night, his lithe frame curled around me, stomach against my back, his face pressed into my neck as he bit his lip to stop the emotion that threatened to escape him. I will not say what happened in those months with the werewolves, only that I was so glad to get back and into his arms. Then the Battle at the Department of Mysteries; the day he left me forever.

I held back a struggling Harry; my mind blank and almost as unwilling to process the words that I spoke.

"He's gone"

I said them more to myself than anyone, as though saying it out loud would make it easier to temporarily close the gaping hole in my chest, and allow me to do what needed to be done. I managed, but it was with a heavy heart and a muted vengeance that I rounded up the remaining Death Eaters. I wished that Bellatrix could have been there, that she had not left, so I could have tortured her, and finally killed her. I was angry beyond anything I had ever felt in my entire life, until the hole came back, and I fell to the ground, barely able to register what was happening around me.

But life, as they say, goes on.

This year something so completely unexpected happened to me. I fell in love again, and this person understands and accepts me as well. I feel beyond blessed that I should have anything in this life, but to have someone fight for me, when I push them away; that is beyond anything I feel I deserve.

And she; my amazing, beautiful, clumsy, reckless wife. When she first declared her love for me, I was beyond shocked. Thirteen years her senior; with nothing to show for living almost thirty-seven years, and she wanted me. She wanted a life and a family, despite my condition.

I found it incredibly hard to love her; to love anyone after Sirius died. I welcomed her slowly into my life, and eventually, her perseverance wore off on me, and I began to see her in a new light. The clumsy young girl, who was throwing her life away for me, of all people. She was perfect in every way. Almost the complete opposite of me in most respects, yet she complimented me, with her light-hearted ways, and her view of the world; yet her ability to make older Wizards cower with fear, made her perfect in my eyes.

So now I am here, a married man, with a child on the way. I regretted the child at first; and I am ashamed to say that I let myself run, out of nothing more than selfish fear. Inability to accept who I am made me run, and I hate myself every minute for that. Yet now I look on my fate in a different way, and I find I can look to my future, instead of dwelling on my past. I have known love, felt loss and pain, and I have walked out of the other side stronger.

My name is Remus John Lupin, and I am a werewolf.

And I am also a man.