I'm Just A Human

A/N: Okay, so just in case you get confused, James and Lily are alive in this. The Order defeated Voldemort back before he could destroy them, so the Potter's are all well and alive, and Peter was sent to Azkaban for conspiring with the Death Eaters.

Tonks is 19, but I made Remus and the Marauders in their... Mid-twenties, maybe. Around there. I know the difference is more than that, but I altered it slightly for the sake of my story, I hope you guys don't mind too much.

So yeah, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Three:


The curtains were pulled close, my room was dark. I lay in the bed, curled on my side, staring out into the darkness. My eyelids closed then opened then closed then opened and remained partially opened for what seemed like forever until I could finally blink again. I wasn't paying attention to anything, thinking of nothing but the darkness around me, having my mind go blank, but not unsettled.

Rolling over, I threw the quilt from my body and lay there in the cold, sweating. Perhaps I just had natural heat, because I welcomed the inside cold, not nearly as cold as the outside. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to...

I sighed, sitting up in the darkness, making out shadows of shapes from the crack of light seeping in from the doorway. Slowly creeping open, light flooded the floor from the living space, a dark shadow crawling in, closing the door behind it as though it was mannerly. I remained sitting upright, not fazed or frightened by the shape, or the increase in weight on the bed beside me, or even the mass of fluff nuzzling itself by myside. Instead, I lifted a scarred hand to rest on the shadow's head, ruffling the fur between his ears, and laying back down.

"Couldn't sleep, I take it." I mumbled, watching his shadow rise and fall.

He snuggled against me, making a soft whimpering sound. I closed my eyes. Sirius was always more fond of being a dog than being his normal form, and no matter how much I enjoyed my mate's company, I somewhere agreed with him. This presense of Padfoot gave me a sense of comfort, safety; memories flooding back to school from when we were kids, our days in the Shrieking Shack, our days of my transformations.

Padfoot stood on all fours in the corner, fangs bared and growling. He didn't want to hurt me, he wanted to protect me. Prongs, standing tall with his antler's ready to hit me square in the stomach. He wanted to keep me from hurting myself. Wormtail (It was still hard to even think that we were friends with such a fiend), squeaking and nipping at my feet as to confuse me. To distract me long enough so I wouldn't hurt any of them, so I wouldn't hurt myself. Not too badly.

When the night would end, I'd find myself curled up naked on the four poster bed of the shack, my friends sitting in their human forms around me, smiling welcoming, although a look of sympathy always graced their features. My friends, my only friends, my best friends. They weren't ashamed, afraid, or worried of me or for me. They accepted me, and did all that they could to make my experiences less lonely, to make me feel welcomed. It always worked.

Closing my eyes, I draped an arm around Padfoot's midsection, he made a slight bark in response, and his breathing eased to that of sleep. I was a werewolf, I needn't any protection, but it was always comforting to know it was there.

For the next few days I was on edge. The full moon was three days away, so I spent my time locked up in my room, laying around or reorganizing where things were supposed to be, or where I'd rather they were. Sirius would join me every so often, sitting cross-legged in the middle of my floor, leaning back on his elbows as he watched me fret and change the position or things on my desk. He'd have a remark for most things, and brush me off when I barked angerly about it. He knew I didn't mean it, he knew what the transformation did to me.

But he didn't know firsthand. He didn't know that even though the beast wasn't at it's best around the full moon, that it still was always present. That I was always surpressing my wolf urges until it got to hard and I had to disapperate to some secluded forest away from everything. He didn't know the power I felt, the way I felt like I could do anything, that the wolf taunted me about being bound to my mortal feelings, my mortal instincts. The beast wanted me to embrace him and be one with it, but I refused. How I had such control, especially for being bitten so young, I suppose it was hard to tell. But there were times I wanted to just give in...

"Lily invited us over for dinner." Sirius picked up some trinket from under my bed and fiddled with it. "I know how you are around this time, but I accepted. You should come."

"I won't expose Harry to wh-"

"Oh come off it, Mooney."

"No."

"Remus, you're not even tr-"

"I. Said. NO."

He muttered something under his breath and made a nasty face at me, then pushed himself up from the floor and left. I sighed, falling down to sit on the edge of my bed, leaning over to fold my arms on my legs. My eyes closed, pieces of my already greying hair falling in my face. My eyes closed tighter, fists clenching. The transformations just got worse and worse as the years progressed.

I heard the apartment door close moments later, assuming Pads left for the Potter's for dinner. So I stood and stepped out into the other room, looking around at the emptiness, then walking into the kitchen to brew up a cup of tea. It took me a few moments to realise my hands were shaking as I did so; I only waved it off again and continued my task.

My favourite chippped mug was placed on the granite counter, I spun it a few times, reading the faded music notes, letting myself smile slightly. The other Marauder's got it as a gift for me, and I thought of them whenever I hummed the tune over and over that the mug presented for me. I always wanted a piano of my own, but it was costy, so I had to settle for the one at the club. But that was fine, it was better than nothing.

Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I cradled the cracked mug between my aged hands, and bent to take a sip of the warm drink. The music notes ran rampid through my mind for the rest of the night.