((A/N: Well, you can tell that this is a new story, because I even used a new font! Oooh! Ahhh! Impressive, I know. I'm not quite sure what is going to happen next in Life at Hogwarts for Prongs, so I'm going to be writing short little fics to get my muse back. (Who stole my James Potter muse? Who was it? I want it back!) Anyway, I'm sure that millions of people have already written this, or something similar to it, but I'm going to add myself to the list. My story takes place right after the third book, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. But you all know the title of the book, right?? I should hope so! So, I haven't read anyone else's stories on this topic, I swear. If there are similarities, that just means that we write similarly and share some of the same views of the Harry Potter world. That's it.))
Remus watched the countryside pass by the speeding window of a Muggle train. He wished he could have enjoyed it, but with all that had happened, he couldn't. He had just left the first position that he truly loved. Hogwarts was a second home to him. A first home, really, since he didn't have anywhere else to live. No one wanted to house, much less give a paying job to someone like him. He was feared among Muggles and wizards alike. He was a werewolf.
Remus often found that traveling on Muggle trains helped calm him, and helped him decided where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do. This particular ride wasn't doing any of the three to him, and he sighed in resignation.
Noting that he was alone in his compartment, Remus bent down to his tattered bag, and pulled a picture from one of the inside compartments. It was an old wizarding photograph, taken many years ago. It showed James Potter and Sirius Black, two of the best wizards that could have, should have, been given a chance to show what they were made of. The two were smiling and waving at Remus, full of life and energy. How ironic, he thought. The third person, who was separated from the other two by a crease in the photograph, was slouched in a corner, a small tear trickling down his cheek. Good! Remus couldn't help thinking. You should be upset, after all you deserve to be put in Azkaban with scum like yourself. You gave in to a stronger power when it was obvious that we would have protected you. Don't you remember, when we first became friends, when we rescued you from Snape? Obviously not, because you found comfort in the likes of Snape. It is your fault that I am alone today, do you know that? Because of you, because of what you did I will never be truly happy in my life. I hope that you are happy, wherever you are, you little rat!
Involuntarily, Remus started to cry. He wiped away a tear, so that it would not hit the photograph, the last reminder that he had of a time when he had been happy. Will I ever be loved, be excepted like I once was? Will people ever realize that I am a normal person 96% of the time? He didn't think that anyone would ever truly except him like James and Sirius had. They were all he had, and he had trusted them with his life at a time when it was impossible to trust anyone, magic or Muggle. Yes, they were his true friends, but now they were gone. Sirius isn't dead, Remus thought, trying to console himself. But he is as good as dead, a nagging voice inside his head said. A wizard on the run doesn't have enough time to stop in one place for very long, after all. And it's all because of that scum, Pettigrew.
Forgetting all pretenses, Remus started to cry openly, with great sobs escaping. He cried because he hadn't the last thirteen years. He cried because he was alone. But most of all he cried because of two young wizards that never got the chance to show the world what they could do. Two young wizards that will be remembered forever.
((Post-fic A/N: I told you it was angsty. What can I say, I had a bad day, and this is what I wrote when I got home from class. It's not my fault, it's the fault of all those people who were mean to me today! :) ))