A/N: Hi, peoples. Since this is the first HP fic I've posted, I am seriously in need of constructive criticism ! Also, I've never written anything angsty before, so I'm not sure if I'm any good at it. I'm just completely clueless at the quality of my writing, so any kind of review would be totally awesome! (No flames though, please) Oh yes, and there is an explanation for how Remus ended up in the woods, I just didn't want to bore you with it. However, if any reviewers are curious I will add it in.

Disclaimer: I absolutely, positively, 100% do NOT own Harry Potter or anything connected with it; Romula is the only person I own in this fic and even the plot is not totally my own (meaning that the event written of in this fic had to have happened in some way shape or form). If you sue me, you will get absolutely nothing except my guinea pig, my fish, and my poster of Smaug, so I suggest you do not try it.

Then One Night

"Remmy! Oh Remmy!"

I sighed, looking up from my homework at my best friend. "Sirius," I said wearily, "could you please do me a favor, and not call me that anymore?"

Sirius cocked his black-haired head at me, a curious look on his face. "Hey, Moony, why're you so touchy about that nickname?" His voice sounded very loud in the silence of the library, and I saw Madam Pince glaring over at us out of the corner of my eye.

I shook my head, looking back down at my work. "It's not important, just please don't do it anymore. And keep your voice down, Padfoot, or Madam Pinched is going to throw us out." But my mind was suddenly far, far away, back in another, time, another place, where everything began…

(Flashback)"Romula! Remus!" My mother's sweet, clear voice rang out from the end of the back porch, where I could imagine she stood, her arms around one of the white pillars that supported our roof. "Supper's ready! Finish up your tricks and come inside, darlings!"

"Yes, Mummy!" we chorused. My sister Romula and I were just out of sight of our home, in a small clearing, playing at our 'tricks', as Mother called them. We were actually hovering on our toy broomsticks and trying to invent new moves. Our mother, being afraid of heights, had never enjoyed Quidditch or even an evening joyride on a broomstick, but our father insisted that Roma and I learn. He was an excellent flyer and was Captain of the Gryffindor House team in his day. So every evening before dinner, ever since I could walk and talk, we had gone to the clearing with Dad and practiced(we would have practiced on the lawn, but most of our neighbors were Muggles). Because Roma was nine years old now, and carried a sparker* with her that both of us knew how to use, we were now allowed to fly there alone. My anxious mother cast charms on the ground to make it smooth and springy in case we fell, and the toy brooms were the very best and safest that Galleons could buy.

"Remmy, look at this!" my sister cried. I watched with jealous eyes as she rose a few feet into the air, and did several barrel rolls, squealing and giggling. Her silky blond hair was so long that it brushed the earth. I was only five, so my broom couldn't rise higher than 3 feet before it began trembling violently and threw me off. Romula's was a much more capable version: it could rise ten feet, and went much faster than my own. As I wobbled through the air on my Little Star, my sister would speed about the clearing, turning, spinning, twisting and laughing with glee. I resented her for her skill, but we actually got along better than most siblings.

Suddenly, she let out a scream. I realized that she was so dizzy, she had lost her grip on the broomstick. I grabbed at the handle to halt its movement, but a second later, Roma was sprawled on the ground, gasping, with her eyes screwed tight shut.

"Roma, Roma, wake up!" I yelped, running over to her and shaking her. When she didn't respond immediately, I yelled, "Don't die!" and dumped a fistful of dirt on her face to help bring her back to the land of the living. Roma hated dirt.

Her blue eyes shot open. With a screech of dismay("This is my favorite shirt, Remmy! Euwww!") she sprang to her feet and frantically brushed herself off, spitting out mud and pebbles.

"Roma," I said innocently, "I thought you were dead."

She shook her head. "Not dead, silly; that's why Mummy made the ground so soft. I was just dizzy for a minute." Then she grinned. "So, how were they? The barrel rolls, Remmy; honestly!" she added at my blank look.

"Oh…they were alright." Suddenly, the jealousy was back.

My dad was calling for us now, though: "Kids? Hurry up, your meals are getting cold! Did a Lethifold get you or something?"

"Sorry, Daddy," Roma answered for both of us. "We're coming right in!" She picked up her broomstick, briefly examining it for excessive dirt, or splinters. Then she grabbed my arm.

"But, Roma!" I whined, struggling in her tight grip, "I wanna stay out and practice some more!"

'You heard Daddy. If we don't come in now, he'll probably use Crucio on us!"

"Please, Roma?" I begged. "I'll give you some of my Halloween candy(living in such close contact with Muggles made it sensible to adopt some of their traditions)!"

It was far to tempting for little Romula, even responsible as she was. "Well, alright then," she sighed.

"Yay! Can I ride your broomstick, too, if I give you a whole lotta candy?"

She sighed again, but handed it over, taking my own smaller broom in exchange. "You'd better come in real soon," she warned. "And I'm not making your excuses if Daddy blows up." Then she turned abruptly, and ran off through the trees.

Flushed with excitement, I let the handle of the sacred broom lay across my palms, gazing at it reverently. Then, quick as a flash, I mounted it and kicked off from the ground. I rose higher and higher; then, at about six feet up, I leaned forward. Now instead of higher and higher, it was faster, faster and faster, and faster still. This was Paradise, this was heaven on Earth! This was where I belonged. As people once said of my father: "Born to play the game…"

"Ahhhhh!!!!" Too fast! Much too fast! I feel sick! Oh God oh God oh God…can't stop, can't turn, CAN'T SEE!

Then-

Pain. And after, nothing.

Suddenly, the pain was back. It filled me; for a moment I was aware of nothing else. But I realized slowly that my body was wracked with shivers, that it was dark and it was silent. I felt pine needles beneath me. My shoulder, I noticed, was resting against a tree, and a stone was digging into my left knee. Ah, I must be outside. I tried to move my left arm, but it hurt too much.

"Ouch." My own voice startled me. I still didn't know where I was.

I tried moving my right arm instead. This was better; just a little sore. I reached out my hand toward something that glinted slightly in the moonlight. As I wrapped my fingers around it, I realized it was a long splinter of wood from the handle of a broomstick. Romula's broomstick.

My memory came flooding back. "Daddy," I whimpered softly. "Mummy, where are you?"

I clambered to my feet. Above me, the sky glistened with stars, and a bright full moon hung placidly among them. I turned around in circles several times, expecting to glimpse the clearing, but there was no sign of it. All around me, there were trees, huge and menacing to my young eyes. Shards of the broomstick littered the ground nearby, and the head lay intact several feet away, though most of the twigs had been snapped in half.

I slowly sank back down, and a wave of terror washed over me. I was hurt, I was cold, I was lost, and I was alone. So I curled into a ball and began to cry.

For several minutes I lay there, sobbing. I heard faint sounds in the distance, but paid them no heed. None of it mattered; I was going to die out here, I'd never see my parents or sister again! But then a low, liquid growl reached my ears, and lifted me out of my grieving stupor. My blurry vision made out two bright yellow spots that moved and flickered, like mobile stars. I rubbed my eyes to clear them and realized that I was seeing the gold irises of an enormous black dog. He reminded me of my own dog, a Newfoundland.

"Buddy," I whispered, and reached out a hand to scratch the grizzled prick ears. Buddy's ears were floppy.

Like a flash of lightning, with a ripping snarl the dog sank its great ivory teeth into my wrist.

I jerked away, screaming, and at the sound of my yells the dog twitched away in fear. I kept screaming, and suddenly a familiar voice cried, "Remus! Remmy, is that you? I'm coming!" I heard Romula crashing through the woods, calling my name. The black dog, who seemed to be preparing to finish me, heard too, and all the noise was too much for it. It slunk off into the darkness.

My whole body felt oddly numb, now. I thought I was changing, growing larger, and then I was on fire, and could not think anymore…

Human. Human coming. Young, weak, tender. I am hungry, so hungry… It is coming closer; I can see it now. It is a human female. Small: large as me, but, yes! It is weak, stumbling, trembling. A little sun in its forepaw. I move towards it, jaws dripping. So hungry…it is yapping something, it does not see me… I spring!

It's yaps are loud and shrill; it struggles, kicking, hitting, thrashing, but I have found its neck. I tear into soft flesh as my head is drenched in warm, sweet blood…it stops moving and is silent. I hear its heart: thump…thump…thump…nothing. It is dead! Other humans are coming now, large and loud, maybe dangerous. I lift my kill, and drag it far away, into a thicket, and eat.

In the morning I woke, confused and drained, in a different part of the forest. I remembered changing, thinking strange thoughts that were not my own, and before that, crashing on Roma's broomstick. My parents were standing over me now, crying, and I did not understand why. I tried to look around, but my father covered my eyes, picked me up and carried me away.

Later, as I lay in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's, they told me what had happened, as gently as they could. Through my sobs I told them, over and over again, "I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to kill her! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

And over and over again they told me, "We know you didn't mean to, Remus…but you are a werewolf…"(End Flashback)

*FIN*

*sparker-a wizarding safety invention for the pre-Hogwarts crowd. It is similar to a wand in looks, but when the programmed incantation is whispered to it, huge red sparks fly out of it. At a certain elevation (in this case, when they reach above the trees) the sparks explode with a echoing bang and become 100 times brighter, to attract the attention of anyone nearby.