Author's Note: Thanks to Fetch for beta-ing.

It's horrible, the full moon. It draws out my emotions, giving them free rein over me, complete control. Hate, fear, love; always in that order, these are the emotions that pour forth from my soul. I try to bridle these emotions, try to control them, but I cannot. I wish I was normal, these just aren't problems normal people have.

The hate is so strong; I can barely stand being in a room with someone for fifteen minutes before the desire to rip out their throat overtakes me. So those days, I sit alone in my room, writing morbid poetry.

Then the hate eases into fear. The fear is perhaps more controlling than the hate. It's fear of everything, but mostly fear of being alone. I sit awake at night, the last couple of days before the moon changes. Loneliness and isolation are both my greatest fears and harshest reality.

I was alone for so long when I was a child, locked away in a cell, a prisoner, and a monster. When I got out, I was still alone. No child played with wolves, not a single parent would let their child play with me, anyway. Yes, being alone is my greatest fear.

Then comes the changing. I feel every hair on my body rise into goose bumps, as if the temperature was forty below. But it feels so warm, so tingly. Almost like being in love. Then the feeling grows, inches of hair sprout everywhere, my face, my stomach, my paws... my body shifts slowly, first taking position, and then shape.

Soon I am no longer Remus Jude Lupin, but a nameless, wild, wolf, capable of killing anyone and everyone without even comprehending my crime. Fear is horrible as a wolf. Having Peter, James and Sirius around helps. Especially James. He always makes me feel safe, and secure... and loved.

We venture out, exploring our world near midnight. Peter snuck into a bar, watching, captivated by the half naked women. Sirius too became hypnotized by their rhythmic dancing, and by the bouncing of their breasts.

What remained of my consciousness was disgusted. How could my friends desert me for them? Then I realized James hadn't gone with them. He had stayed behind, with me. James was needed to keep me in check, and I am sure he saved some hapless villager's life that day. Together, we walked back to the shack.

The Shrieking Shack is deathly cold in the winter. There is no heat, no fireplace in which to set a fire, nothing to give it away as my monthly residence. Prongs and I lie on single ratty blanket, torn during my latest transformation. We laid tightly together for body heat, like puppies.

I woke up early that morning with the pain of transformation. It was worth it, though, to be human once more. James too had changed back; he had done it only after casting the appropriate sleeping spell, so that I wouldn't wake up until I was human again. James was lying naked, and shivering. Hesitantly, I pulled the cover over his sleeping form. He always strips before transformation, as not to rip his clothes. He learned that trick from me.

Now it is the final stage of the changing moon. The waning moon pulls from my very essence the deepest love. My feelings for people are multiplied so much... but yet they are the same feelings I always feel, no more, no less. The cycle only removes my inhibitions. I am not longer repressed, and am released from my closet, if only for just a few days. No, the cycle cannot create love. Nothing can create love, or destroy it. It simply is.

James' jet-black hair is tousled, but yet so beautiful to me. He is tall, lean and strong. His Quidditch player's physique is mind blowing.

I lay next to him, keeping him warm, his slight chaser's form fitting tightly, his back to my stomach. I fight the urge to grasp his loins tenderly, to pump softly yet firmly around his length until he is spent. The urge is strong, and it takes every fiber of my body to keep myself from doing it. I can't have sex with him, he is straight, and he is not mine.

He is Lily's, always Lily's. Lily loves him purely, simply and truly. I love him when the moon is full, when my inhibitions are removed, it's the only I can show him. But I do not show him. I can't show him.

It's Lily he will fall for, Lily he will marry after graduation. They'll move out to the country, and buy a cozy little home. They'll have a bunch of little red haired, blue-eyed children, and a dog. A dog will be there, not a werewolf.

On some level, I envy his future mutt. For it will be he that makes his way into James' family, James' heart, James' bed... never Remus.

I cannot be his. My affliction, my accursed lycanthrope, keeps me away from all. I cannot be the lover of anyone, male or female, black or white, muggle or wizard.

I sit up, willing myself to shake the sleep from my eyes. I unlocked the small cabinet, containing the awaiting clothes: a pair of baggy jeans and a rugby jersey.

James stirs as I button my jeans. For a moment, his eyes seem to flutter, and his lips dip into a soft smile. I smile back.

"Good morning, beautiful," I think to myself, mumbling it under my breath subconsciously.

"Remus?" he said, gesturing to the rather ratty blanket on which he now lay, nude. "Did we... do anything last night?"

"No, never," I told him.

"I dreamt we did," he said, blushing.

So that's what the little sod was smiling about.