This is a drabble I wrote on my livejournal, spur of the moment. I sort of like how it came out, so I'm posting it. The original title was "Remus is a hippie." However, it didn't seem to suit it. So... Here you go.
It was cold outside, for a summer night, and he knew he should go inside... But he couldn't. He couldn't go back when the moon was so close to full. Something in him called for it, no matter how much he feared or hated it.
There was scarcely a time when he didn't wish he was normal. He was rarely ever comfortable in his own skin, even during the new moon.
There was hardly a time when he didn't hate himself.
Except for nights like these. On nights like these, with the moon almost-full, like a mother ready to give birth, he felt the pull of the wolf in him. It was on nights like these that he wasn't afraid or sick, but just happy to be outside, to see the sky.
It was nights like these that he was truly lonely.
Ah, life is good when you're not a werewolf.