AN: Remus, a werewolf, scorned by society, begins his final year at Hogwarts. Despite hanging around with a bunch of crazy idiots (otherwise known as the Marauders), he hopes to have a quiet year. Little does he know that this year he will encounter just about the biggest thing life can throw at him. Love.
A dark stormy night. The wind shivers across the grass and rattles tree branches against dark windows. A boy shakes in a corner of a tiny room, the doorway a gaping mouth to freedom, a freedom that does not exist for the mouth leads only to a forest filled with things even more terrible than himself. For he is a danger, this little boy, that is what they all say. A danger, to himself and others, a liability. Best to keep him away. Keep him safe. All his life, or so it seems, these words have been whispered far above his head or behind closed doors, a susurrus of insults and dangers. He knows he is dangerous. Why else would they say he was? He's a freak, a monster to be kept locked up and let loose only in forests on dark and stormy nights when the moon rises in a fat globe, bulging in the sky, like an eye seeking him out. It seems to his young mind that it is always stormy, though logic tells him that it must be nice some nights. He likes logic. It's safe and solid and unchangeable. He likes words too, although many are used against him, twisted and turned out of proportion and losing all meaning. He still tries to enjoy them because don't they say that you should know your enemy? The only problem with this is that he seems to be everyone's enemy and no-one tries to get to know him. No-one wants to get to know a freak like him...
And then all words, all logic, all meaning fall from him like an unwanted overcoat, landing creased in the corner as the eye, bulging menacingly high above him, cries down tears of silver, drowning him, suffocating him. Changing him.