Disclaimer - You know the drill. You don't seriously think I created Harry Potter, do you? Give me a break, I'm not that smart. No, these characters are the sole property of J. Rowling and a number of publishing companies.

A/N - the sooner I get reviews, the sooner I'll write more. -Leaf

THE MORNING AFTER

"Full moon tonight," James Potter commented, not looking up from his Daily Prophet.

"Is it?" Sirius Black feigned utter disinterest. "Dammit, there's no more cinnamon twists."

"Because you ate them all, Sirius," Peter Pettigrew said dryly. "Where's Remus?"

"Same place as always."

"What's he do up there, do you think?" James asked, chewing idly on a piece of toast. "I mean, you never see him at breakfast the morning of a full moon, do you?"

"Maybe he's a werewolf!" piped Sarah, another fifth-year with a taste for the irrational and, apparently, for eavesdropping.

"Yes, I suppose he is," Sirius said mockingly. "Can't imagine why we didn't think of that, with all the werewolves running around every morning…"

"He's in the astronomy tower, Sarah. And stop spying on us, would you?" Peter turned his attention back to the sizable portion of eggs on the plate in front of him. Sarah scowled and slid down a few seats to whisper heatedly with a group of girls.

Sirius leaned back in his chair a little, gazing at the entrance to the Great Hall and hoping to see Remus Lupin walk in the door. Tonight, a much anticipated full moon, he and James intended to reveal their skills as animagi for the first time. He'd been bursting to tell Remus for weeks that tonight was the night, but had managed somehow to keep it in. He couldn't wait to see his friend's face when he transformed for the first time into his shaggy black dog persona.

"I still don't see why I can't go," Peter said petulantly.

"Because," said James, "you can't transform yet. All you can do is grow a stupid tail. Which means you won't be able to keep pace with the rest of us, and you'll call attention to us, and it'll look suspicious."

"It's hard," Peter said. "It's not my fault I can't do it."

"Look, we'll help you this month. Maybe next month you'll be ready."

"What's the big deal?" Sirius asked him. "We've been doing this for two years. So what if you have to miss one time?"

Peter's arguments ceased, but he flashed irritated glances at his friends. Annoyed, Sirius stood up. "I'm going to find Moony. Meet you guys later?" Without waiting for an answer, he took off, leaving James to deal with Peter.

Remus Lupin lay in bed, not getting up.

It was always harder to get up on the morning of the full moon.

Maybe, he thought, I can just go back to sleep. Maybe I'll go to sleep and wake up tomorrow morning and it'll be over. But he knew that was useless. Even if he could fall asleep - and without stealing some sort of sleep aid from the hospital wing, he doubted he'd be able to - the wolf would never sleep through the night.

His mind flitted through scenarios, playing them through his imagination. Suppose the chains broke tonight and he escaped into town? Suppose he came upon some people? Some children? Suppose he hurt or killed his best friends, the only friends he'd ever had?

Remus couldn't remember what it was like not to have these worries.

He remembered that full moon, that fateful night ten years ago. But before that, nothing.

He remembered the feeling of freedom, of summer nights and staying out past one's bedtime. He had been playing with a quaffle outside his parents' house, a place he'd not seen since that night. The quaffle had rolled away, into a cluster of trees…

The rest was fuzzy. It had been loud, very suddenly. Something huge and hot was on top of him. Something hurt. It hurt and hurt and didn't stop hurting, and he was sure he was dying. And then waking up the following morning, bruised and bloody and miles from home with no idea how he'd gotten there.

It had taken him four full moons to figure out what was going on.

From the age of five, Remus Lupin had had blood on his hands.

He'd told no one. Each month, he'd hidden in the supply closet of the children's home that had found him and taken him in. When everyone had gone to bed, he'd snuck down to the basement, chained himself to a showerhead, and waited.

It was excruciating. He had no memory of being the wolf, but waking up the next morning was always an ordeal. First the confusion, while he figured out where he was and why. Then he would start up in alarm, checking his chains, making sure he couldn't have escaped and hurt anyone. Only then did he begin to check himself for injuries, and they were always numerous. Apparently the wolf liked to gnaw on his legs; Remus' wrists and ankles were invariably bloody after a full moon.

It was a difficult, painful life, but he managed it for nearly seven years. And then everything changed again.

A social worker sat Remus down one day and explained that a letter had come to him from a special school for gifted children. Remus understood immediately - he had vague memories of his wizard parents, although he'd spent the last six years with muggles. He'd met with the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, and had liked and trusted him immediately. He'd decided to tell the professor his secret.

Now, five years into his education, Remus had to admit that his life had improved vastly. He had friends, real ones, not just boys his own age to play with. His terrifying and shameful secret was no longer a secret, and his newfound friends had made it clear that it wasn't shameful either. Things hadn't been this good since before…since before.

Still, he was afraid. And for a moment the old guilt, the guilt of those first four months, rose in his throat. The word murderer flashed in his mind for a moment.

No, he told himself firmly. It was ten years ago. It's over. What's done is done.

Remus took a deep breath and began the day.