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Aftermath

Remus Lupin: The Lonely Moon

He shut the door and shoved the dealbolts into place, all eight of them. Concrete surrounded him: four walls, floor and ceiling. It was the safest place for him really. The cellar of the old cottage out in the English countryside was the perfect holding pen for the werewolf that Remus Lupin turned into every full moon. Pulling the steaks out of the celephane wrappers, he dropped them on the floor, the raw meat making a sickening slap. He had stopped cooking them years ago as the wolf inside preferred the taste of raw, bloody meat. It only semi-satisfied him.

Shedding his ragged robe, he dropped it on the floor as a makeshift bed in case the wolf wanted sleep. But that was never the case. He would pace back and forth, clawing at the doors, barking at the walls and anything else that separated him from the fresh meat that was walking around only miles away. There were times when he was tempted to "forget" locking the doors and letting himself go on a rampage. He missed those nights.not the rampaging, but the freedom that his friends had given him.

James, Sirius and Peter became animangi in order to keep him company when he transformed. It was the single most touching course of action anyone had taken in their lives for him. Other than Dumbledore letting him come to Hogwarts, that is. But his friends, Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail (James, Sirius and Peter respectively) all kept him company when he was at his worst and made it a not so terrible experience.

But there was no one now.

James was dead. So was Peter. And who was it that killed them? Sirius. Sirius Black, how could one get away with being a good guy with a name like "Black?" Shouldn't they have seen that one coming? But they didn't, and Remus was left alone again to face the creature that he was. He felt like crying, so he did. Locked in a basement, no one would know. The crying gave way to weeping, and the weeping to sobbing.

It was the only emotional outlet that Remus, the man, had. He lived alone, and no one bothered to come see him. His friends were gone and everyone else he had known, parents included, were too afraid of him. He wrapped his arms around his skeletal frame, wishing it was someone, anyone, that had come to comfort him. That was all he had for comfort though...dreams and illusions.

The dropping sensation came to his stomach and he felt the pangs of transformation go through his muscles. His hands clawed at the ground in a last ditch effort to stop the transformation, but the dirt under his fingernails faded away as the hand became a paw. He let out a scream filled with pain and anger at the process. But the sound faded and was soon replaced by silence.

The wolf shook the dust off it's fur and whined. It paced around the small square room, looking for an out. The light from the full moon fill the basement with illumination. The wolf passed by the fresh meat, sniffed it, and kept pacing. Finally, it stopped, sat down in front of the window that framed the moon and howled, just like every full moon since the Potter's death.