Note from the Author:

This fiction is rated 'R' for violence, sexual content and occasional language. It should be to the reader's understanding prior to reading that it will contain slash (or homosexual) themes. I do not take responsibility for readers who find offense to these, and all flames due to reckless neglect of reading the aforementioned will be used to warm my hands. Thank you.

I do not own Harry Potter. I am sure I have made some unintentional minor alteration due to memory loss. However, this story will not change the future of the books. This is more of my own whimsical spin on a prequel.

For example, I could never write that Lily Evans was raped by Severus Snape to the point of death after being inebriated beyond all reason at one of those Slytherin sex parties that Draco/Snape fans always like to write about, because then she could have never have conceived Harry. So do not expect anything like that to occur.

Important: I do know that Dumbledore was most likely not the headmaster when the Marauders were in school. In the memory Tom Riddle's diary showed Harry, he named a "Headmaster Dibitt". For purposes of this story, plain preference, and lack of the motivation of looking it up in the books, Dumbledore was and is the headmaster of Hogwarts.

Prove me wrong and you still get nothing, so you lose.

Fanged Innocence: Story of a Werewolf

Chapter One

Autumn had found its way to Hogwarts before anyone had expected that year. The air had cooled down enough to discourage many who dwelled within the stony walls to continue venturing outdoors. Gryffindor scarlet and gold splotched the trees of the forbidden forest and dusted the leaf-covered grounds.

The opening of Quidditch season was just around the corner, as could be seen by the continual preening of the pitch and James Potter's ever increasing restlessness. From time to time, students claimed to have spotted the giant squid splashing about in the waters of the lake, obviously finding the climate change very disagreeable.

Contrary to his classmates, Remus Lupin could be found savagely scratching onto parchment under a lone beech tree on one of the aforementioned afternoons, his friends well-occupied near by.

Those days had become quite different for the sixteen year old werewolf. He suffered from loss of appetite, was distracted easily during classes, and distanced himself from his friends more often than not. Worst of all, sleep had failed Lupin as well. When he did entrap slumber, his dreams were plagued by things that made him feel an awkward mix of horror and excitement all at once. Yet only the feelings remained afterward, like an undesired after-taste. The dreams themselves continued to flee from the grasp of his memory each and every following morning. At least those days he had awoken to familiarity of his own bed...

Remus had discovered that the only outlet of frustration had been scribbling his thoughts on paper, which he happened to be doing on that very day in particular.

Lupin furrowed his brows in concentration. He brought the point of the quill to his mouth, unconsciously sucking on it before racing it across the page again with more fervor than before.

Day Twenty Four - Sixth Year

For the third time since I have returned to Hogwarts, I awoke this morning to the feel of damp leaves and sticks prodding into my back. Luckily, I was closer to the school than before. I easily found my way back by spotting the large Quidditch hoops through the trees. However, this morning was awfully different from the other two...

Lupin paused to read over what he had just written. Pleased with himself and incredibly unnerved about what he was about to account, he continued with a small sigh.

As I walked through the thinning forest the light grew brighter and brighter. I could start to make out the colors of the trees and...and then I noticed it. There was blood smeared over my hands. I was overwrought with panic and didn't know what to do.

Perhaps I am transforming uncontrollably without the full moon! How could that possibly happen? Has it ever happened before?

I ran up to the castle (luckily no one was awake yet), taking the stone stairs of Gryffindor tower by twos until I reached the common room.

The fat lady was snoozing quietly when I arrived, and when I roused her to give the password she took one lazy look at me before screaming in utter terror. It took me some time to subdue her, and after she reluctantly let me inside, with extreme difficulty on my part, I raced through the common room, and right into the boys dormitory. I drew the bed hangings about the bed and spent the remainder of the morning there sobbing like a little girl, thanks to the silencing charm.

It wasn't until after I was sure everyone had cleared out for breakfast that I left the safety and comfort of my bed. Padfoot had left reluctantly knowing that I wasn't up, but was pushed through the dormitory door before he had the chance to do anything about it by James, who was exceedingly grumpy after being shoved out of bed. Wormtail agreed, convincing him I had looked like "shit" lately and probably needed sleep anyhow. Did I really look so bad that my friends had noticed?

But anyway, that's when I made my move. I padded into the bathroom and turned the shower on. When I glanced into the mirror the sight makes me shudder with disgust in memory alone. I had blood smeared across my otherwise pale face. My eyes were a dull grey, a bit red and puffy from crying with circles underneath. That combined with the forest floor matted into my normally light-coloured hair produced an alarming effect. No wonder the fat lady had been so horrified. Needless to say, I had scrubbed myself raw in the shower, leaning against the wall as I sobbed again. Pathetic, right? I know.

Only a select few even know I'm a werewolf as it is; the people who I can depend on for help are limited.

Suppose the blood on my hands was human? No, no...I mustn't think that. But what if? I would be thrown out of Hogwarts silently, without any known reason to the students and most of the faculty. It would be far too dangerous to keep an unpredictable werewolf at a school full of young students, no no. Even then, Dumbledore couldn't very well make public that under his direction he allowed a "filthy flea-bag" to endanger the lives of-

It didn't even registered to Lupin that someone was shouting out to him until his journal was violently knocked out of his lap and replaced with a warm, panting body. Releasing a yelp of surprise, Lupin glanced down only to meet the sight of a mop of black hair with a hint of scowling blue eyes underneath.

"Sirius, you arsehole! You almost hit Moony with that last one!" James Potter hadn't bothered to move, but glared playfully at a laughing figure off in the distance. Standing up, James clutched the quaffle to his chest with one hand while he brushed himself off with the other. "Sorry about that, Rem," he said as he flashed the silent werewolf a rueful grin. Remus shook his head and smiled a small smile to himself, quickly forgetting his previous feelings of dread and impending doom.

"Lighten up, mate. No real harm done," Sirius laughed, rapidly approaching towards the two.

"Yeah, Prongs," added Peter Pettigrew, following the long-haired Gryffindor to his left. However, James was having none of that.

"Remember what we talked about at breakfast?" he said while keeping his mouth perfectly linear. James looked pointedly at Sirius, as if trying to give him a message via eye contact. It appeared to work, for Sirius' gaze landed on Lupin, then back to James. Needless to say, Lupin was left quite in the dark.

"Tell 'im about how you snagged the Slytherin practice quaffle, Prongs!" Peter had interrupted whatever moment Sirius and James were having, bringing them back to Earth. A smug smile quickly spread across his features as he looked at James with utter adoration. James seemed to find this suggestion very agreeable, for he grinned immediately, running a hand through his already untidy hair.

Sirius rolled his eyes and sat down on the cold, hard ground next to Lupin as James began to tell his story. Lupin found himself shaking his head several times during the tale towards the blatant disregard for the rules.

"..and then!" James paused to laugh boisterously. There was a big goofy smile on Peter's face, Lupin, disgusted, doubted his eyes could get any bigger with unadulterated adoration. "...and then...and then that great fool Abernethy came out, nearly starkers. His wand was pointing right at me and Donald McQuillan, underneath the invisibility cloak, of course. I nearly gave us away, almost died laughing, and Donald was about to bloody well wet his-"

"Hey Moony," Sirius interrupted, to James' extreme annoyance and Peter's protests. He continued, ignoring the two, "What's this?" Lupin could feel the colour leave his face as he slowly glanced towards Sirius' direction. Sure enough, Sirius sat, back against the trunk of the beech tree, leafing through his journal as if it were a poorly written romance novel. A positively stupid smile, graced his dark features.

"Wait! That's mine!" he cried out. With a surge of fear, Lupin made a move for the leather bound book, but the raven-haired Gryffindor would have none of that. Sirius tossed it easily to his other hand, arm outstretched away from the werewolf. He grinned boyishly as Remus became increasingly frustrated, observing his reactions intently.

The prat! he thought to himself, glaring heavily at Sirius He probably gets perverse pleasure from this. How much did he read? Gods, I hope not much. Oh please oh please oh please oh please...

Again, Sirius switched hands as the sandy-haired teenager made a more enthusiastic dive for the tattered book.

"Just give it back to him already." James rolled his eyes, sounding bored and still pouting over his interruption. Sirius pushed the journal behind his back, pressed firmly against the tree, and looked up at his friend with what started as a victory smirk and transformed into a gasp.

Why is he such an...an arse?! Lupin had reached his limit. A surge of fury had overcome him. His fists had been clenched until they were almost the white of snow, nails almost bursting the pale skin of his palms. With one angry scoop of his arm, Lupin had the collar of Sirius' blue jumper clasped tightly in his hands.

Somewhere along the line Lupin had planted himself atop of lightly muscled legs, straddling the hips of a very astounded Sirius. He vaguely heard him gasp, as he violently yanked Sirius' face up towards his own, dark hair flying in disarray. Sirius could feel Lupin's warm, ragged breath fan across his face in puffs, and hear the deep-throated growl emanating from lightly parched lips. Teeth bared, and eyes feral, Remus showed no signs of letting up anytime soon.

"Moony! What the fuck do you think you're doing? Have you gone completely nutters?" James yelled. Peter, behind him, had stepped away in fear.

If embarrassment and rage was what transfigured Remus Lupin into an animalistic state and locked him there, it wasn't his two frightened friends' sharp tugs on his arms, he was beyond feeling those, nor was it their pleas, for they fell on deaf ears. Lupin abdicated his fury only when looking down at Sirius; dark eyes dilated, a flush ravishing his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Several raven tresses of hair had fallen into his eyes, creating a demure, bewildered picture. Lupin could slowly feel his clenched fists weaken, and anger start to dissolve. Sirius just stared at him blankly, unable to even blink. Lupin glanced down shyly to see the self-compromising way he secured Sirius to him, blushing furiously.

With one particularly sharp pull, Peter and James had successfully forced Remus off of Sirius, causing the werewolf to tumble across the earth, wet leaves clinging to his robes.

"All right, Padfoot?" James asked quietly, concern evident. He placed one arm firmly on Sirius' shoulder, while he inspected him with his eyes, as if he could professionally tell if there was anything wrong with him. James scowled when he noticed his friend had been ignoring him, distracted with the sight of the disheveled werewolf.

Remus looked as though he wanted to cry again, eyes watered to the brim. His hands were shaking violently as he tenderly brushed the leaves and dirt off of his Gryffindor robes. But when he looked up, Sirius' dark eyes caught his own. It looked as if he was about to say something, but then stopped, unable to get the words out. Frowning, Sirius looked as though he was about to make another attempt, but Lupin, finding the thought very disagreeable, was determined not to listen. Staggering awkwardly to a standing position, he promptly turned and sprinted towards the castle.

It dimly registered to him that James and Sirius were calling out to him, particularly Sirius. Still, he kept running towards his destination, his place of refuge. Not thirty feet in front of the castle doors, he slipped a wet patch of dirt, covering the front of his robes. Clawing the earth frantically, he made his way to a standing positing, reaching his haven indoors. Remus' mind was reeling with an exotic mixture of emotions. Emotions that normally did not mix well, as unacquainted alcohols did. However, the effects produced were not unlike each other, for when he finally reached the moving Gryffindor staircase, Remus Lupin was sure he was going to hurl. So he did. And afterwards, clutched his knees to his chest and cried some more, thanking his lucky stars any students who could have potentially witnessed his state of utter despair and defeat were stuffing their faces at dinner about then.

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"How did you find me?" Remus asked distantly, voice scratchy. Sirius couldn't be sure if it was hoarse from the chilly weather, or crying but if the red rimmed eyes were any indication at all, he assumed the latter. Regardless, the abashed Gryffindor wouldn't have wanted him to know, so he decided to leave it unmentioned...among other things. For some reason, Sirius found it endearing. The fact that Remus was too proud to want Sirius to see him like that, not that he was in the actual state.

"Well," he said, taking a seat on the stone roof next to Remus and kicking his feet over the side, "we mostly just let you think we don't know how you come up here when something's miffing you. Sorry to break it to you, mate, there's little us Marauders haven't seen in this castle. You of all people should have known that," Sirius smiled lightly to ease the mood. Lupin released a small, humourless laugh, and turned his attention back to staring at the nothingness of night.

Sirius scowled a bit, before clearing his throat. He knew now that any conversation between the two would be initiated only by him, and rather forced by his moody companion.

"So how have you been, Moony? We don't have many classes together this year, do we?" he began, raising his eyebrow in what he knew produced a devastating effect.

"Hn." …to no avail. Not intending to give up, Sirius continued:

"Well, there's charms with Professor Hollyhock. I must've forgotten about that." Not even a grunt in agreement. Sirius was growing quite agitated, as his patience was waning. Taking in a deep breath of cool air and releasing it, he changed his strategy, "What? Not talking now? The least you could do is talk to me after you nearly mauled me this evening." Bingo. Ears perked up, sand-coloured head whipped around, hands found there way inside of Sirius' inner robes.

"Oh, Padfoot! I didn't mean to, you have to believe me!" Sirius felt his heart clench as the werewolf pleaded with him "I…I don't know what came over me. One minute I was so angry with you, and then I…" Lupin trailed off, eyes downcast. Sirius couldn't help but smile lopsidedly, realizing his emotional friend must've been up there for hours fretting over something that hadn't even bothered him. Well, not in a bad way in any case.

Lupin glanced up, eyes pleading at first, but then took sight of Sirius' smile and glared, releasing his robes, and turning his head away. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?" he huffed.

"No, no," Sirius laughed, waving his hands for effect. Remus turned his glare back on the raven-haired teenager, "well, partly," he conceded, a constant grin gracing his features. "I just thought it was," he paused, checking his words as Lupin looked at him expectantly, "adorable? Yes," he cleared his throat in a gruff manner, "adorable. How you worry so much over everything, that is. Of course that's what I was referring to." Sirius' manner grew nervous, as he found he couldn't find a place for his hands. In his robes? Maybe in his lap? Could he pull that off? "I mean why would-" One look at Remus told him that he was making a fool of himself. Sirius sighed, "just don't tell Wormtail or Prongs I said it," he started, but then dissatisfied he amended, "Just don't tell Prongs I said it."

The werewolf threw his head back and laughed, one of the first genuine laughs Sirius had heard from his friend in a very long time. He knew he would have to ask Lupin questions. Questions that he wouldn't want to answer almost much as Sirius himself didn't want to ask. They had decided at dinner, in light of Lupin's absence that he would be the one to do it.

Sirius was now positive that Lupin had been camping atop the school roof for hours, for he was shivering quite conspicuously. Instinctively, he peeled off his own jacket and laid it across shaking shoulders. Lupin said nothing, only peered at him quizzically.

"You were cold," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Well, it practically was. "How about we go inside? There's really nothing out here, you know." Lupin shook his head, finding the suggestion disagreeable.

"No, I think I'm going to stay out here. Only for a little longer." Sirius sighed, and wrapped one, strong arm around him, pulling Remus to his side. He faintly could hear the small gasp, or make out the deep flush on the smaller Gryffindor's face through the darkness.

"Let's just hurry up." Needless to say, the two boys lounged lazily atop the stony edifice far past the hour most students were tucked away in their beds.

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Yes, I know. You're probably thinking: "What the hell was that about?" Oh, but it will make sense.

Next Chapter: Lily Evans makes an entrance. Perfect.

Please review. If only to tell me you read it. Anyone who says we write these things for ourselves is telling dreadful lies, feel offended. Writers write for readers to read. Yes, these do pathetically curve how I write. Quit being so lazy; tell me I'm horrible and need to give up