Thought, I may as well go back and fix this so it is posted in original format as I liked it beter this way.
Watching
Remus had been watching for a very long time. Ever since he had been a little boy he had been watching. People lived; animals survived. Since he had been bitten that was all he had become, an animal, all he was capable of was surviving. And watching. Watching, every other child his age have what he wanted so desperately to have; a life.
It stung when he was younger, to see all the other children going to the park or the beach when he couldn't because he was too 'ill'. The truth was his parents had been ashamed of what he was, what he had become. So they hid him away hoping that if they ignored 'it' maybe their 'problem', as they had called him, would just disappear. He had grown to understand what a repulsive thing he was an had gradually learnt to blend in with the furniture so at least their dream could come true in some way.
As he grew older he began to believe he would never be able to participate in life, he would remain watching, like a waxwork, for his entire miserable existence. But a single letter changed his stars in a way he couldn't have dreamt of. He was going to Hogwarts. he was being giving a chance to live. Or at least that was what he had hoped. Things didn't work out that way.
Firstly he hadn't been able to get the train with all the other students, on account of the time and lunar alignment. He had been forced to miss the sorting and welcoming feast, due to his condition and finally he had to forfeit the first three days of school because of the effects and the healing process his body had to undertake to repair all the scratches and bruising; it still couldn't stop the scarring, mentally or otherwise.
All these things added up to his alienation from the other students and from then on they ignored him and he retreated further within himself. The one small mercy in this blatant disregard was the removal of the need to lie to anyone about where he went every month. On the contrary no one appeared to notice his disappearances.
So here Remus sits, four years later, and he's still watching. His floppy, dull, sandy hair covers one of his eyes almost complete but no one notices, they were a dull blue-ish colour anyway. His robes are dull and tatty. His books are dull and second-hand because he has to buy everything himself. His existence is dull and, from Remus' point of view, utterly pointless.