A/N: Sunday Bonus Chapter! Because literally no one can stop me. *evil laugh*
He hurt everywhere.
It always felt like his bones were broken after the full moon, but it seemed to feel worse each time. It was as though his body was aging ten times faster than it should.
Remus sat up in the middle of the shed, careful not to twist too much for he had scratched himself on the ribs pretty good.
He hissed in pain as he found the edges he could not see on his back. Tracing with his fingers, he carefully plucked the grit causing him the most grief from the wounds.
His father would let him out soon and stop the bleeding, but he was in for a miserable few achy days from the transformation.
Remus wished, more than anything, that there was something, anything, anyone could do for at least some of the symptoms…He missed his friends. The nights were not as rough with playmates in the moonlight, and he didn't end up with new scars. Though the pain never seemed to fully go away.
He felt the wards lift and heard the heavy clank from the latch on the door.
His father entered, wand in hand, and approached him slowly.
They exchanged no words, as always, while his father mumbled cleansing and healing spells onto his torn up side. When finished, he hauled him up to his feet and tossed him a pair of trousers.
Remus was slow as he trudged towards the house. Every movement burned or tugged or stabbed something. He wondered if death would bring relief, or if that just hurt too. He decided it wasn't worth the effort to find out.
Entering the house, he plopped onto the nearest seat which was at the kitchen table. The hard wooden chair brought its own discomfort, but it relieved others. The exchange may have been equal, he wasn't sure, but at least he was no longer required to maintain his balance.
He slumped forward until his cheek made contact with the table. Curling his arms underneath his head, he tried to tell himself it was comfortable enough to rest until using his body was a bit more bearable.
Remus woke with a start to something nibbling at his fingers. The jerking motion sent a wave of fire through his shoulders and back.
When his vision cleared of stars, his gaze met that of a small patchy brown owl with a curious look in its yellow eyes.
He did not know this owl.
Looking at the letter it had dropped by his hands, he found his name written across it in an unfamiliar hand. A small lump protruded the edge.
He opened it carefully.
R. J. Lupin,
It has come to my attention that you could benefit from my creation. I know you've been told otherwise, due to your condition, but the potion included in this envelope will lessen your discomfort.
A Friend
Remus' heart stopped and he had to read it a few more times to be sure his eyes had not deceived him.
Someone had heard his silent prayer.
Folding the letter back up, he eagerly removed the small container creating the lump in the envelope. It was a miniature jar with a dark green liquid inside.
He stood, and the rush that shot through him almost dropped him back into the chair, if not onto the floor. He stumbled through it and with a bit more caution headed to his room.
It took longer than he would have liked, but he made it up the stairs and grabbed his wand from his bedside with a trembling hand. He tapped it to the small jar and it grew to its actual size.
Remus removed the lid and froze.
What if it was poison?
He sniffed the contents. Not that he knew what poison smelled like...but he didn't recognize the potion at all. He supposed he wouldn't. If the sender had just invented it, they wouldn't be learning about it in school.
He set the jar on the small surface before him.
But who was this mystery friend or potential murderer? If they had just told him how they knew him, it would help...
Perhaps they were a relative of one of his friends? But the other marauders swore an oath to him they would never tell. Not that he wanted them to make such a pact, but they insisted.
So who was it? Dumbledore? A friend or acquaintance of the man? Who else would even know?
He stared at the potion, afraid to hope that it was just as the letter promised: Relief.
Against his better judgement, he picked it back up and swallowed it in one go before he could talk himself out of it. It tasted horrid, not at all like it smelled, and for a moment he thought he had made a grave mistake.
Then, the overactive stimulation in his bones and muscles faded away to a dull ache.
He slowly took a deep breath, finding it not crippling to do so, and tested a step backwards. He was still a little sore, but it was nothing compared to what it was but moments ago, and continuing to fade.
Remus bounded down the stairs and back to the kitchen where the owl of his new friend patiently waited for a treat.
