Remus was lying, spread-eagled on his office floor's dirty carpet, staring up at the ceiling. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat, breathing heavily, and embarrassingly naked, but the calm fog that had spread over his mind in the absence of the excruciating pain he'd just experienced meant he needed a moment to recover and properly awaken before he could stand up and get dressed into the clothes he'd stowed away in his cupboard.
The clock on the mantelpiece said it was obscenely early, the time he'd wakeup uniquely on the morning after full moons, because despite his having to wake up at six to get ready for his lessons most days, he still hated getting up in the mornings, the way he had in his student days. It had needed James to drag him out of bed nearly every morning.
Remus missed them more every full moon, and he missed them more every day that wasn't a full moon, if that were possible.

His joints were aching and his head was pounding. Years ago, he would have gone to the Hospital Wing. But he was used to pain now. He'd break every bone in his body to get his old, dangerous life back. The safety and security was killing him, the way it would be killing Sirius if he were there. Sirius, who couldn't sit still for thirty seconds, let alone do what Remus had done and get a normal job, with a timetable and a routine. Everything about Sirius was spontaneous and reckless and sudden and exciting. Maybe that was why I fell for him, Remus ruminated, yanking on his trousers. I needed something exciting.
He knew that wasn't the case, but pretending made him feel better, even just a little bit.
He'd die before going Azkaban, Remus knew. It's probably driven him mad.
Good, a savage part of him whispered. He deserves it.

Remus took his teapot and teabags out, made himself a cup of tea, and took the special bar of Honeydukes luxury chocolate he'd bought as a treat for himself for after the full moon out of his drawer, broke himself off a square and nibbled on it thoughtfully.

There were no sounds in the corridor, so Remus shoved the rest of the chocolate square into his mouth, buttoned up his jacket and walked slowly out into the hall, looking around for anyone, but it was abandoned as predicted.
He strolled through the school, passing a lone cat that hissed at him. Cats had always had that reaction towards him; he assumed it was something to do with the wolf inside of him, the dog. Ironically, both cats and dogs loved Sirius.
He walked through the Entrance Hall, across the courtyard, down to the bridge, across it and out onto the grounds. It was cold, with a brisk wind, and there was moisture in the air. He didn't need tea leaves to predict rain.
It would be nice, a rainstorm. Contrary to the general consensus, Remus loved the rain, for two reasons. One, it washed away everything, leaving a damp, good-smelling earth and a fresh outlook. Secondly, he had a good memory of splashing in puddles wearing his mother's too big wellington boots on spring mornings, and that was one of his best memories with his mother and father when he was young. His childhood had been sweet, but darkened and hidden in the shadow of his lycanthropy, so when he told his father that he had been given the opportunity to take the Wolfsbane Potion and take control of his lycanthropy, he had excused himself, overcome with emotion.
Remus smiled wanly as he crossed the lawn and went to sit under the smaller willow tree next to the lake. In the deep water, the Giant Squid was splashing around, amusing itself by flailing around in the cold. He leant his head back against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes.
Peter, James and Sirius-
It was easier to say their names, he thought. He felt pathetic, but it was still difficult to remember them.
He had made peace with Sirius' betrayal, or he had decided that he had.
Peter, James and Sirius would excuse themselves from History of Magic or Divination and sneak into the Hospital Wing to see him, usually with Exploding Snap or Gobstones or just their tales of woe in detention or encounters with the Slytherins, hastily crowding under the Invisibility Cloak whenever they heard Madam Pomfrey coming. They thought they were masters of concealment and stealth, but thinking back, Remus was sure that she knew, and felt a swell of warmth towards the kindly Healer.

Remus had promised to visit Madam Pomfrey early that morning for her to examine him, despite his constant and repetitive assurances that he would be fine, because she seemed to still see him as his vulnerable, tired sixteen-year old self, instead of his less vulnerable but just as tired thirty three year old self.

He hiked wearily back up to the castle, and a few minutes later arrived at the Hospital Wing, pushing the door open tentatively, wincing at the creak. "Poppy?"
Calling her by her first name was foreign to him, and the name felt alien on his tongue: he didn't know anyone else called Poppy, and he didn't think he called anyone else Poppy in his life.
There was a first year boy Remus recognised from one of his classes (Freddie, he noted) sleeping in one of the beds near the door, a bucket next to his bed, and a girl with long wavy blonde hair lying on her side with her back to him. Remus instantly lowered his voice, flushing, and tiptoed up to the nurse's station. "Poppy?"
A bleary-eyed Madam Pomfrey came out, tying her pink dressing gown, a bottle of potion in one hand and her wand in the other. On seeing him, she smiled hurriedly then bustled out, in a rush as always, keeping her voice low.
"All right, Remus, what are your injuries-"
"I'm fine, Poppy. No injuries."
"I don't believe you." She said immediately, and raised her wand threateningly. "Don't make me magically scan you."
"Really, I'm fine. Just sore, headache, like usual. No scratches or anything."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." He said patiently. "If you're happy, I'll leave you to tend to your other patients."
"At least let me get you a headache potion." She didn't wait for his reply, just went back into the nurse's station and came back with two bottles, holding him out to him. "The green one's for your headache, the black one is for the sore muscles. If the headache persists, come back as soon as you get the chance. Understand?"
"Yes." He smiled gratefully at her. "Thank you Poppy."
"You're taking the day off, aren't you? You better be taking the day off."
"Professor McGonagall insisted."
Madam Pomfrey smiled tiredly. "Well if Minerva insisted…remember, come back if you don't feel better within a few hours."
"I will." Remus had no intentions of going back and bothering her again. "Thanks again, Poppy."

Remus left, and as he headed back to his room the castle was starting to awaken from its slumber, filled with little hums of life. A girl heading down to the empty Great Hall to read in the quiet, battered book under her arm, a frog croaking and leaping across the Entrance Hall that Remus picked up and spelled back into its soggy cardboard box container with a sigh, one second-year boy chasing another, the first clutching a fistful of papers and laughing raucously and the other in hot pursuit, shouting angrily about that's my essay you bloody twat, Professor Binns asleep in his armchair in the staff room, fully visible through the open staff room door, mouth wide open, flickering in and out of transparency with every snore, and Remus, who stopped at a window in an empty corridor to catch his breath, already exhausted, the transformation costing a lot of exertion and making him raw and aching for a few days afterwards. As he composed himself, he stared at the grounds. A ginger cat was walking lazily across the grass, and he followed it with its eyes as it trekked towards the forest. At the edge of the trees, it padded up to something amidst the branches, trunks and leaves, and Remus thought he caught sight of two enormous pearly eyes and the shadow of a hulking black dog.

He shook his head and carried on back to his office. He saw Sirius everywhere.
Remus didn't like his bedroom, and that was why he spent so much time in his office.
It wasn't that his room wasn't comfortable, it was fine- in fact, it was a lot nicer than some of the pretty awful places Remus had slept in in the past thirteen years- but the space was entirely too similar to their old dormitory. The bed had the same worn, dust hangings pulled around it, the mattress was once again almost too soft, like you'd sink into it, the rug in the middle of the carpet was the same pattern as the one that had been in front of the fire, the chest of drawers of the same and the water pipes made the same affronted, gurgling noises of protest when he turned on the shower.
Maybe he should have found a way to swallow his grief before then. Maybe.
But Remus had lost his daughter, his three best friends, the man he loved and trusted and believed in, his place in the Order meaning that he was no longer needed, his dream of becoming a teacher, and most damagingly the people around him. He'd pushed the few left standing away, scared of trusting anyone else the way he trusted Sirius, because Remus no longer trusted the world. He no longer trusted the universe to deal him a good hand, to tilt the odds in his favour, because time and time again it had let him down. With his lycanthropy, with his loneliness and anxiety, with the betrayal, with his mother's early death, with his short moments of happiness being torn away. His joy was like a suddenly lit match- it sparked, flared bright and strong and powerful and passionate, and then was quickly snuffed out.

He hoped finding Hermione wouldn't be like a lit match; he hoped it wouldn't burn out.

Don't worry, Hermione will go to see Remus probably in the next chapter? Let me know if you want that to be sooner or later, because otherwise I might write it a bit later...I'm not sure yet.
Anyway! More reviews=faster updates (because I get super excited and motivated)
Thanks you guys!
Fly x