DISCLAIMER: Don't own shit. Also, the title of this chapter is a line from Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare, and who ever owns that, please don't sue me either.

CHAPTER SIX

SWEAR NOT BY THE MOON

It was nearly dusk. Nearly time.

Yesterday Remus had taken Sean and led him to the back of the boxcar, or they might have been killed in the mad rush that ensued as the big sliding doors began to creak open. Right when the moonlight about to shine in through the crack, the doors had stopped. There had been a collective groan.

"Let us out!" someone had screamed.

"YOU WILL REMAIN CALM." A professional, almost machine-like voice had boomed. "WHEN THE DOORS OPEN, ANY ESCAPE WILL BE PUNISHED WITH DEATH. YOU WILL STEP OUT IN AN ORDERLY FASHION AND ENTER THROUGH THE GATES. DO NOT TOUCH THEM, AS THEY ARE SILVER PLATED."

"Ingenious," Remus muttered, playfully elbowing Sean in his side. He could tell that the boy, understandably, couldn't find any humor in the situation at all. Remus thought perhaps he should try not to be so cheerful, but really had nothing to be particularly upset about. He hadn't anything better to do, besides sit at home and bicker with Sirius like they were an old married couple- so he had cheerfully bade his friend goodbye and allowed himself to be escorted to the train, rather glad for a vacation.

At least now he'd have free meals for a while. He had to admit, however, that the whole "punished with death" thing was, though a little melodramatic, rather unsettling.

The door were pried open. Several werewolves were about to charge through to freedom, but wizards in masks stood outside each boxcar, holding their wands in one hand, pointed silver rods in the other. Everyone fell back.

Why on earth are they wearing masks? Remus had wondered as he and the boy stepped out of the car. He had been feeling more uneasy by the second. He'd thought it understandable, though little harsh and prejudiced, that Percy Weasley had ordered the isolation of werewolves, but wearing masks? Who were they? He shook it off, telling himself that it the Ministry wizards were just ashamed of the task they'd been assigned. It was plausible. He knew that many officials were not happy with Weasley's decisions, but wished to keep their jobs, and thus followed orders.

The gates were indeed made of silver. Remus had itched just walking passed them. Luckily the crowd was not big enough for anyone to be pushed into them, or it could have been a mess. The train had been only four cars long, containing, collectively, about two hundred werewolves.

They were marched into a giant, empty warehouse, fed, and left to their own devices: sleeping, complaining, or trying to escape. Everyone seemed disgusted by the presence of everyone else, and dispersed evenly throughout the giant room. Remus and Sean had stayed close to each other. Remus felt an odd sense of responsibility for the boy. He seemed to be the youngest werewolf of the whole lot, and Remus, surprisingly, the oldest.

In the morning they'd been marched out to giant field with an upward slope, and it was here they were now. The silver-plated fences were all around. There was nothing else but sun-yellowed grass, for what seemed like miles and miles.

Sean and Remus were sitting nervously at the top of the hill, the only werewolves who had braved to climb anywhere near it. The others treated this vastness just like the expanse of warehouse, that is to say, by putting as much space around them as they could. It seemed everyone had realized that screaming and carrying on would be useless, and so they laid there, silent and frightened.

For the boy's sake, and admittedly for his own, Remus had kept his good humor throughout, but was now trying to hide his panic. What on earth was the meaning of this? Were they to be left in the field to tear each other apart? There had been no talk of Wolfsbane from the officials.

Beside Remus were the unpleasant memories of his childhood transformations- Sean was writhing and sweating, feeling the throb of the pulling moon.

"Remus," he moaned pitifully, "Remus, it hurts! Don't you feel it?"

Yes, yes he did, in the very core of his bones.

"A bit," Remus admitted, "though I think by now I'd feel rather strange without it."

"We're going to kill each other," Sean whimpered, "aren't we?"

"Of course not!"

"Oh jesus, I hate it!" The boy arched his back and clawed at the ground, "I hate this! It hurts so bad-"

"Waiting is the worst, isn't it, Sean? Why don't you tell me about school?" said Remus, trying to put the boy's mind on something else.

"School!" Sean spat, "Who cares? I'll never go back! I'll be dead!"

"No, we won't, Sean. They aren't going to kill us."

"I know they aren't! We'll all change, and murder each other. Make my death quick, please, Remus! Just snap my neck or something-"
"-stop it, now, Sean. Come on... we'll figure out something. Maybe a spot to hide? Come on."

Sean scoffed, burying his face in the crooked of his elbow. "There's nowhere to hide. Just leave me here. I'm sick of your optimism."

Remus took the boy by the arm and hauled him up, ignoring his yelp of pain. Moments later he shook off the teeth he felt sinking into the shoulder of his cloak.

The sun disappeared behind the distant mountains on the horizon. Howls of panic erupted all over the field.

Remus drugged the boy, fighting him viciously, off the hill, to a place where the warehouse overlapped the gate. The others were hidden from view. Remus trusted himself, after years of regular Wolfsbane, to not tear the boy to shreds. Perhaps he could keep him at bay, away from the others, and maybe the could survive the carnage.

Maybe.

The sky was darkening.

He slammed the struggling Sean to the ground and put his knee in the boy's back, holding him tightly at the wrists. The boy growled and screamed.

"We're going to be fine, Sean," Remus called over the noise. Everywhere around them the werewolves were vocalizing their pure fear of the moon, screaming that they didn't want to die-

The sky blackened, and suddenly the moon was hanging in the sky.

Remus bared his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, felt the ache overcoming him- the moon, huge and blinding- he cringed-

Nothing.

The pain drained away.

For a moment there was a bewildered silence. All over men and women were examining their body parts, gazing at the moon, then back down at themselves.

Remus let go of Sean and looked at his own hands, waiting for them to stretch, waiting for the hair to sprout. He felt his torso, waiting for that splitting, excruciating, tearing pain-

But nothing.

Sean pounced at him, knocking him over and clawing at his face-

"Sean! Sean look at yourself"

He did, and after a moment let out a whoop of joy, hugging Remus around the neck.

Sean was the first to call out across the yard, "We've been cured!"

There was a tremendous sigh of relief, then and explosion of celebration. Total strangers embraced and skipped arm in arm, dancing in the moonlight.

What is happening? Remus thought. He forgot all about the boy and ran at top speed, back to the highest point of the slope. His ears were deaf to the celebrating below him; his eyes were blind to the waving of arms-

It was only he, a peaceful silence, and the enormous, silver moon.

It was so beautiful- so bright- so... full. It was strange to look at while not frozen in agony. This perfect orb had caused him endless, eternal amounts of pain- the physical aspects by far the least of it. He could not remember the last time he'd gazed upon something so complete and round, and perfect. How could something so gorgeous be such a wretched enemy?

For the first time in many, many years, Remus' eyes filled with tears.

Soon he could hear himself sobbing, but could not take his eyes the beautiful sight.

"Remus!" The boy was jogging up the hill toward him, "Remus, why are you so upset? We're cured!"

The boy could never understand, thought Remus, feeling weak. Sean had grown up with Wolfsbane. He'd probably never been deprived of it. He was probably used to being tucked into bed when the moon was full, getting his temperature taken, and having his sore muscles massaged until the time came. Being a werewolf was viewed as an illness nowadays, not the disgusting and shameful curse it once was. Sean would never know the physical and psychological pain of tearing himself apart, waking up alone, naked and bloody in a freezing and filthy room. He would never know the fear of accidentally hurting someone, the horror of knowing that he was a dangerous, feared, and hated monster...

Remus' hid his face in his hands, staring at the moon through trembling fingers.

"Remus! Be happy! You're not a werewolf anymore!"

Remus flinched. What an absurd statement. Of course he was a werewolf. Remus J. Lupin was a werewolf. He always had been. Long ago there was a little boy, only a little boy, a five year old boy who was called cute things like "Honey-Pot" and "Ree-Mee-Dee" by his parents, but that little boy not longer existed. Just a werewolf named Remus.

And yet here he sat under the moon, its rays sparkling off his tears, illuminating his pale skin.

Remus let out a howl of joy and let himself fall backward, arms outstretched as if to embrace the sky.

Sean showed the heavens his middle finger. He and Remus laughed defiantly at the moon. The others continued to bathe like children in the moonlight, laughing and singing. He felt the boy beating him encouragingly on the back.

Suddenly the warehouse gates were creaking open. A man in a white cloak stepped out, all of the masked Ministry wizards filing behind him in two lines. He looked around at all of them. Remus could make out a smile on his face.

The man held his wand to his throat and all was silent. There werewolves beamed at him as if he were a god.

"Greetings, my friends!" His voice boomed, "I am Mr. Thomas Tromedlov. I trust you are all enjoying our little surprise."

The crowd roared, including Sean, who punctuated it with a back flip.

All but Remus. He about to suggest that they go down and join in the merriment when logic came thundering back at him. He sat up, eyeing his surroundings suspiciously.

It wasn't right.

The Ministry wizards were still wearing masks. None of the werewolves had been brought here of their own free will. They had been dragged. The Ministry had directly violated their rights in forcing them to come here.

"The cure, my friends," the magnified voice continued, "was put in your food last night, compliments of your Minister of Magic, Mr. Percy Weasley."

There was a lesser cheer, but a loud one all the same.

"Now that we know it works, I would like to congratulate each of you on your new lives!"

The cheer was earsplitting.

"It is obvious to me that the pesky business of being a Lycanthrope is all over for you, my friends, but if you would all step inside for a little celebration feast, we will discuss certain community services that you may perform in return for us sharing our marvelous breakthrough with you! It is not required, of course. The Apparation wards have been lifted and you are free to go, but it is definitely recommended that you stay, and would be a pleasure if you did!"

There was a mad rush to the warehouse gates. The officials stood back, but the Mr. Tromedlov in the white cloak stayed and shook each werewolf's hand as they hurried in.

Remus held tight to the back of Sean's sweater.

"Let me go!" he hissed, eyes burning.

"No. Listen to me. Something is wrong about this-"

"LET ME GO!"

"No. I'm taking you home."

"Maybe you've gotten used to it, old man," Sean spat, tugging madly to get away, "But I don't want to be a werewolf!"

"Listen to me," said Remus frantically, "This is dark magic. Stop and think about-"

"I DON'T CARE!" He turned and was about to take Remus' throat, but the older man grasped him by the shoulders and Apparated.

He had no clue to where they should go. They appeared from nowhere in the middle of a dirty, bar-lined street. The moon was not visible because of the tall buildings, but it shone tauntingly in Remus' mind, beckoning him, daring him to betray his gut feeling.

Sean was red and spitting with anger. "You stupid- you fucking- you dirty-"

"-Sean-"

"GET AWAY FROM ME! I'm sorry you had such a difficult life!" his voice took on a horrible, high-pitch mocking tone, "I'm sorry you didn't have enough friends-"

"I had plenty- Sean, listen to me-"

"I'm sorry you went all gray and your parents probably didn't love you and maybe you even got sent to a kennel when you were sick and beat up all the time by total strangers, I learned all about that rubbish in school!" Sean was enraged, blindly flailing his arms at Remus and several bewildered Muggles. Remus kept backing away. They were both oblivious to the crowd forming around them.

"My parents were great-" Remus muttered, avoiding the boy's fists, "Sean, you need to calm down!"

"DON'T YOU TELL ME WHAT I NEED TO DO! I need to go back to that place and I need to pay for my cure and I need to get well and attempt a normal life! I'm sorry you've grown so paranoid and bitter in your old age, it's perfectly understandable, but you had NO RIGHT to DRAG ME away from a CURE-"

"Do you want to lead a normal life? You will, supposedly. You're already 'cured.' Being a Death Eater is no way to lead a normal life."

Sean stopped flailing, regarding Remus as if he were insane. "What is Merlin's Beard are you talking about?"

Several Muggles in the crowd turned to whisper "Death-what?" and "Who's beard?" to each other.

"If this is such a great and marvelous cure, Sean, then why did they force us to go?"

Sean blinked, his eyes still full of anger. "Who knows? All I know is that there's a bloody full moon and I've not turned into a wolf!"

Several Muggle eyebrows raised.

"Quite right. That much is true. But it doesn't make sense, Sean. I don't know who this Mr. Trom-ed-whatever is, but his motives can't be honorable..." Remus trailed off. His face went green, his eyes full of horror. "-no... that means Percy...."

Sean was reluctantly reconsidering. A teenaged Muggle with shaggy hair raised his eyes toward the sky, his lips moving.

"Don't trust him, Sean. He's mad!" The Muggle offered humbly.

"What?" Sean demanded irritably. "Do you mind?"

"They're both mad," someone else muttered.

"Come on, " said Remus, taking Sean's arm and pushing the crowd aside. "I'll take you home, and then I've got to warn his family..."

"What are you on about?"

"Nothing- none of your concern. You need to get home at once. Where do you live?"

The shaggy- headed Muggle shook his head, watching the two males in pajama dresses hurry down the street.

"Load of nutters in this town," he told a woman next to him.

A lot of people have been asking me who's married to who, to which I respond: It's up to you. I'm not a shipper. It wouldn't faze me if no one paired up with anyone by the end of the seventh book. I'm not even going to go there. I know people are sensitive about their pairings.

Sorry Steph :) Of course, there is that whole theory of Charlie or Bill (I forget which) hooking up with Fleur- christ, I hope not. I hate her, almost as much as I hate Professor Trelawney. Actually, I hate Fleur more. There you have it, the only pairing I care about.

TRELAWNEY AND FLEUR: A TRAGEDY UNFORESEEN

By Rose Rovente

Rated R for language

Disclaimer: See above, oh yeah, and sorry I'm about to offend all you Fleur lovers out there....

Once upon a time Fleur and Trelawney were sitting by the lakeside talking about how the part-veela was going to marry Charlie/Bill. It was disgusting. Fortunately, shortly before they were about to discuss at length how Fleur and Bill/Charlie were going to consummate their relationship(again), Snape pushed them both into the lake and they drowned slowly.

Don't worry, Charlie/Bill didn't really like her anyway. He/He thought she was kind of dumb and rather dull company, but she was easy, so... you know... whatever.

Snape got a fierce pat on the back.

To this day people still sit at the Three Broomsticks and, while they are getting all shitty-faced drunk, nudge each other and whispered conspiratorially, "I bet old Trelawney didn't see that one coming."

The End.

Sorry... I don't know where that came from... anyway, review chapter 6, oh please!