By Corinne Cassandra Valard
Characters: Remus Lupin
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Summery: Remus contemplates his fate before a transformation
A/N ~ This was inspired by a boring English class, the stimulating discussions at LupinLovers and a thunderstorm. Enjoy. If this gets any response, I have some others that I may post.
Remus sat silently, locked in his office, waiting. Waiting apprehensively, knowing, and yet fearing what was to come. The change. The change that tore his body and rent his soul. "My soul," he though bitterly. Some would say he had no soul, that a werewolf wasn't human enough to posses a soul. But they were wrong. He had a soul, and a heart, and a spirit too. And despite his monthly transformation, he was still a human.
Conversely, he sometimes wished he wasn't human, seeing the atrocities that man performed. Fate had twisted twice when she had created Remus Lupin. It was a great irony that he was persecuted by his own kind, his kind that refused to be associated with him. It was not every human that was so hateful, though. Professor Dumbledore had always been kind, allowing him to go to school, then giving him a job. But there it was again, `allowing', `giving', as if he were subhuman, worthy only of the charity of others.
It was true though, it was only through the charity of Dumbledore that Remus was saved from having to resort to the lengths that other lycanthrops were forced to go to, to survive. Violence, thievery and other crimes. Dumbledore had not only saved his body, but his soul. There it was again, his soul. The only people who truly believed that he had a soul, that dared to call him friend, not monster, were James, Sirius, and Peter. But where were they now, what had their acceptance brought them? Death, death and torment.
Remus shook his head, trying to rid himself of his morbid thoughts. It was difficult, there was so much hate in the world, so many who wanted him dead, and for what?
"For this," he whispered, staring at the scar left by the bite of the werewolf. A beam of moonlight illuminated his arm, bringing the scar to greater distinction. The transformation began, his bones breaking and realigning. He glanced at his arm again, now a foreleg, growing hair and claws. Fully changed, he curled around himself and waited for morning to come.
