Sorry for it being so late, I was rather busy the past few weeks - Christmas, New Year, HBP release date... ;)

There is some strong language and gore in this, but, as Jo Rowling said; You are writing children's books, you need to be a ruthless killer.

Have fun. Or something... Quote's from Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them, btw.

Early October, 1995.

"… werewolves, meanwhile, have been shunted between the Beast and the Being divisions of many years; at the time of writing there is an office for Werewolf Support Services at the Being Division whereas the Werewolf Registry and Werewolf Capture Unit fall under the Beast Division."

Dear Remus,

Mum said that I should write you to thank you for the birthday card you send me. I really liked the card, the picture on it with the dragon was funny. I pinned it on the wall above my bed, with all the other cards.

I got a lot of presents, like books and new colouring pencils. I really like to draw, and I do it a lot. I made a drawing of my cat, Tommy – it's at the bottom of this letter.

I hope I'll see you again soon.

Bye.

Fay.

Tommy was black and white, and apparently had large pencil-coloured whiskers. Fay had drawn his ears slightly lopsided, but apart from that the drawing was rather good. Remus put the letter back in the envelope and then the envelope in his pocket which was fit to burst with letters. Romulus had been right; his parents had send him a lot of letters, and most of them could be summarised with "where are you?!"

He was back in Derbyshire again, for a few hours only, to pick up letters, water the plants and do other things that needed to be done even though he was living in another house.

He hung his coat on one of the pegs on the wall and began walking from room to room to inspect, to be sure that everything was as he had left it, except slightly dustier.

From what he could see, everything was fine. None of the plants had died, and nothing was stolen or whatever. Just… somehow, something seemed wrong. It was only when he was about to get up the stairs, that he realised what exactly it was.

Monster wasn't following him around.

He had always associated his house with the little furball bouncing up and down the stairs, or scurrying from room to room looking for things to eat. It was oddly silent around him; the only thing he could hear were his own footsteps. It was a realisation that made him feel surprisingly lonely.

"Perhaps I should get myself a new pet," he said aloud. "Maybe another cat. Padfoot would like that. Of course, I'm not sure whether a cat would like Padfoot…"

He walked up the stairs, checked on his bedroom, bathroom and study, then went down again to check on the basement and the large cage in it. It would be a full moon in a week, and though he would drink the Wolfsbane Potion, he'd rather have a cage nearby to lock himself in than risk running out and biting or eating people. But everything was as it should be, thankfully.

He watered the plants, made sure that he got every letter that had been send to him, then he walked outside and carefully locked the door. He took one last look at his house, and then he Apparated back to London.

Sometimes Remus had to admit; there was a certain style to the way Snape insulted people. He had 'improved' since his schooldays. Back then, he spat his insults. Now he offered them with an almost silky voice, a smirk on his face. Really, if you didn't know better you'd think he was complimenting you. Except that "Oh, I'm sure that cleaning the Headquarters is an, ehm, really important job. You're vital, Black, really, you are" was hardly a compliment in the tone he used.

Snape relished in it. Hardly the forgiving kind, he thoroughly enjoyed finally having Sirius at his mercies. He knew as well as Sirius did that this time, it was Snape who was important, who was vital, while Sirius was literally good-for-nothing except cleaning.

And it rather spoiled the meetings for the Order of the Phoenix.

It had happened again this meeting. Snape had been telling about the last time Voldemort had given orders to him and his fellow Death Eaters - without giving details, he never gave details. Only Dumbledore knew exactly what was going on. Nevertheless, Snape always managed to come across as way important. The great lines were depressing enough, however. The Dark Lord, as Snape called him, was getting closer and closer to discovering exactly what was in the Department of Mysteries. Also, his group of Death Eaters grew almost as fast as the Order of the Phoenix, even though they were working undercover.

The meeting had just ended, and Arthur and Bill were busy putting away the scrolls. Remus was sitting on the far side of the table, next to Sirius, who was glaring at Snape. The Potions Master annex spy was rather innocently putting on his cloak, ignoring Sirius.

"God, I hate him," Sirius said.

"Everybody knows that by now," Remus answered, sighing inaudibly.

Snape fastened his cloak, then turned around to face Sirius and Remus. There was a smirk on his face that made Remus fear the worst.

"Well, I'll go now," the greasy-haired man said. "Black, good luck. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. We all depend on you, you know."

"Go fck yourself, Snivellus," Sirius said loudly. Molly looked scandalized. Snape pulled up one eyebrow, smirking even more.

"Charming," he said dryly. "Oh, Lupin. This is yours." He threw a flask at Remus, who caught it gingerly. Even though the rest of the Order courteously never commented on him drinking the Wolfsbane Potion, he wasn't going to show it off either.

"Thanks," he said. Snape nodded curtly, then he swept out of the kitchen.

"Greasy git," Sirius muttered.

"Just stop insulting him," Remus said, knowing that his advice was in vain. But it wouldn't hurt trying, would it?

"You staying here for the fully moon?" Sirius asked, abruptly changing the subject.

"Well..." Remus began hesitantly.

"Please?"

This changed matters. Sirius had never openly begged for Remus to stay. It had always been a kind of nagging; asking if he would stay at Grimmauld Place and sulking if Remus refused. The word 'please' had never entered the conversation.

"Sirius, you know why I don't want to – " he protested.

"Okay, fine, then don't." Sirius sighed and rolled his eyes demonstratively. "Just thought that you might want to. There won't be anybody around here anyway, I personally don't see the risk, but if you think it's better…" He had skilfully put the problem with Remus; Sirius wasn't being too rash or anything, it was rather Remus who was being too careful. And now Remus felt guilty, of course.

"You sure there won't be anybody around?"

"Moony, there's never anybody around," Sirius said. "Besides, the house's big enough to fit a werewolf too."

"Not so loud," said Remus through clenched teeth. "The other's don't need to hear." Not that that was likely – Molly and Bill were making dinner, Arthur and Kingsley were discussing the Ministry and Fudge, and Tonks and Dung were playing a rather enthusiastic game of Exploding Snap.

"So, you're staying?" Sirius inquired.

"Hmm…" Remus stretched his time some more. "Okay, I'm staying."

"What's the condition?"

Remus raised his eyebrows. "What makes you think there'd be a condition?"

"I know you, Moony," Sirius said, grinning, "and there's always a condition. It's always 'okay, but…' I remember our first Charms lesson. I asked you if you wanted to sit next to me, and you said 'okay, but could you clean away you books and quills then?' Even then you had a condition."

"Well, you had made a mess of that desk."

"Moony, that wasn't a mess, it was simply using space that was otherwise wasted."

Remus frowned as if to say 'uhuh, sure…' "Anyway," he said. "I'll stay at Grimmauld Place, but under one condition – "

"Let's hear it."

"I don't want anyone to enter the room while I'm… in my wolf-form. Nobody. No, not even Kreacher. Even with the Wolfsbane Potion, I don't want to run the risk. I'll lock the door, and I forbid you to unlock it and come it to see whether I'm Changed already."

"Fair enough."

"Fair enough?!" Remus said, pretending to be horrified. "Oh my God, who are you? What have you done to Sirius?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, but laughed nonetheless.

Remus felt nervous when he locked the door behind him on the night of the full moon. He was all too aware of the house behind that door, around him. Only Sirius and Kreacher were there, but that were more people – individuals, beings, whatever – than he was used to. It felt as if he was bringing a very aggressive dog in the house of which he wasn't sure he could control it.

He limped towards the desk (damn leg), to the goblet of Wolfsbane Potion. The stench of it hung in the room and made him feel sick. He doubted whether Sirius would even smell it.

He drained the goblet, then turned and limped to the bed. He took off his clothes and sat down. He shivered, not with cold, but because the wolf in him already stirred, ready to come out. The hair – fur? – on his arms and legs already stood on end.

The first break always came as a surprise. He gasped as the small bones in his feet snapped. He reflexively reached for his head as his teeth elongated and his face turned into a snout, but he could barely hold his own head because his hands had turned into claws. He arched his back and could just hold in a scream – don't scream, whatever you do don't scream! – as his body forced a thick brown fur out of his sweaty skin. He fell off the bed and crouched on all fours. His mouth opened in a silent scream when he grew a tail.

Ten minutes later, there was a fully grown werewolf crouched on the floor.

"Are you nervous?"

"Would you believe it when I said I wasn't?"

"No."

Romulus smiled feebly at his colleague. The elder wizard, Christoph, nodded reassuringly at him.

"We're all nervous the first time," he said. "I remember my first time. I nearly pissed myself."

"Meaning that you nearly wet yourself or that you drank too much Firewhiskey?" Nicholas, another wizard, asked loudly and cheerfully.

"Both!" Christoph laughed.

The atmosphere was strangely relaxed at the Headquarters of the Werewolf Capture Unit. Like every month, every member of the Unit would spend the night there, to be ready when they heard the alarm, which meant that they had to come into action. Until then, there was nothing to do but waiting, reading a bit, dozing on one of the four bunk beds, or even joking around.

"What do you call someone who has been a wolf?" Nicholas asked Hazel. She rolled her eyes.

"That one's lame," she said.

"A werewolf," Nicholas said the answer nonetheless. "What does a werewolf do when you tell him a joke?"

"He howls with laughter," Anthony sighed distractedly from behind his magazine.

"Obviously not one of your jokes, Nicholas," Christoph said. He got up to get himself and Romulus another cup of coffee.

"Oh, I feel appreciated now," Nicholas huffed.

"We do appreciate you," Hazel said, patting his head jokingly. "Every group needs a comic relief."

"Except that you're not comic nor a relief," came Emily's voice sleepily from one of the top bunk beds. The others grinned.

It was the usual way of spending the night. Romulus had been really surprised the first night of the full moon he had spend here. He had expected – he wasn't sure what he had expected actually. The entire unit constantly concentrated, practising stunning spells or something. More like an army ready for action. This, on the contrary, seemed more like a group of people who were thrown together because they happened to all come to the help of people who were attacked by werewolves.

Their motivations to do this work greatly differed too. Romulus was doing it because he wanted to help the werewolves, who couldn't help being what they were. Anthony, on the other hand, had initially joined out of revenge; his brother had been mauled by a werewolf. Hazel had told Romulus that, when she had heard about this, she had innocently asked Anthony what he meant with 'mauled'. Anthony had answered that it meant that they had thought it wiser to leave the lid of the coffin shut during the vigil. He had joined the Capture Unit only weeks later. His lust for revenge had only lasted three months, until he had seen the other side of the coin, the curse the werewolves lived under and the immense feeling of guilt some had.

Christoph and Emily had joined because they had been offered a promotion. Both of them had worked at the normal Control of Magical Animals office, but as they had got older, they had found the constant work rather taxing, so they had gladly accepted the work at the Werewolf Capture Unit. One could of course argue that this work was even more taxing; werewolves were among the most dangerous animals to work with. But the Capture Unit only really worked once a month, and although that one night was so dangerous that measured up to a month of doxy-catching or griffin-taming, the rest of the month was really relaxed. The experience they brought in was useful too, and at 78 and 63, Christoph and Emily weren't likely to begin fooling around and putting their lives on the line.

Then there were Hazel and Nicholas. Hazel had joined because she had always had, as she put it, an interest in werewolves. She didn't really know why. She had thought the Registry too boring and involving too much paperwork, and the Werewolf Support Services had sounded too much like spending days with group therapy. Her talent for potions was nothing to write home about, and she didn't feel like sitting around and doing research either, so the Capture Unit had seemed like a logical choice. And as for Nicholas… Nobody was really sure why he had joined. Maybe he liked the adventure. He was the clown of the group, but while he was constantly joking around he was also one to be relied on. He might be annoyingly cheerful, telling stupid jokes, he would never let anybody get hurt if he could help it.

"Where's Elisabeth, by the way?" Emily asked, sitting up on her bed.

"She said she'd come a little later," Anthony said. "She didn't say why."

"We have another hour at least," Christoph said calmly. The moon would come up in half an hour.

Elisabeth was the leader of the group, the Alpha wolf of their pack as Nicholas called it. She used to work in Africa, studying and controlling Nundu's, Runespoors and Tebo's. But she had wanted to spend more time with her family, so she had accepted a job in England. Because of her experience with dangerous animals and vast amount of knowledge, the rest of the group naturally accepted her as their leader.

"I do hope it's going to be a calm night," Emily said. "I don't feel like fighting six werewolves."

"I fought twelve in the same night once," Anthony said conversationally.

"Does that happen a lot?" Romulus said, slightly nervous.

"Not often. Summer's the busiest time of the year," Hazel told him. "A lot of people staying outdoors until late in the evening. Like leaving dinner on the doorstep, for a werewolf."

"And when the moon's closer to the earth," Emily said. "Normal people only notice it because of the spring tide, but we notice it because all the werewolves suddenly get hyperactive."

"Sugar high," Nicholas said.

"Sugar?" came an amused voice. "They eat us with pepper, a pinch of salt and some ketchup maybe, but sugar?"

"Ah, Elisabeth," Christoph said, as their leader walked in. "We were wondering what took you so long."

"The grandchildren demanded a story," Elisabeth said, "and who am I to refuse?"

Elisabeth looked like the stereotype of a werewolfhunter. The Muggle in Romulus had compared her to Abraham van Helsing in Bram Stoker's Dracula (he had seen the movie several times, mainly to laugh at the werewolf and because he liked vampires. Julia had tagged along every time, but she went to ogle at Dracula himself…). Elisabeth's hair was grey and usually covered by a hat, a habit she had developed in Africa. She wore comfortable leather boots and a long leather coat with a row of huge fangs. The fangs were fake – to get a real werewolf-tooth, one would have to pull one from the mouth of a living werewolf, and who would be stupid enough to do that? But, as had been explained to Romulus, they had an image to uphold. And it was impressive to see the Capture Unit walk through the corridors of the Ministry, Elisabeth in front. The rest of the people at the Ministry believed they were looking death in the fanged face every month ("bad idea," according to Nicholas, "since they usually have very bad breath") and didn't want to hear about them reading bedtime stories to grandchildren.

"Everything quiet so far?" Elisabeth asked.

"Aye, aye," Nicholas said. "The first five minutes have passed without incidents."

She smiled. "Let's hope the rest of the evening will pass just as quiet." She looked at Romulus. "Everything all right?"

"So far, yes," he answered.

Moony got up from the small carpet and began walking around the room. The bedroom smelled different than usual. It smelled like… humans. To the wolf in him, the furniture smelled as though somebody had covered it with the smell of food. He eagerly sniffed the desk, until he remembered that it might not be a good idea to start gnawing the antique desk.

He turned and looked around the room. He was bored, actually. At home, he had a whole house to walk around. Here, he only had this room. And it was his own choice.

Well, at least I won't eat anybody, he told himself.

It had been eleven o'clock. Romulus had just won a game of chess from Nicholas, when an alarm began ringing almost deafeningly. His heart stopped for a moment. Not just because of shock, because the alarm had begun ringing so suddenly, but because he suddenly realised that this was it.

He was going to face a real, angry and bloodthirsty werewolf for the first time in his life.

"Finally," Nicholas said, and quickly got up to get his coat. The rest of them routinely stopped with what they had been doing and got ready to leave. Hazel walked to a sort of machine which had been connected to the alarm and pulled out a slip of parchment.

"We're going to Warwickshire," she said, reading the slip.

"Get ready to Apparate!" Elisabeth called. Emily hastily put Romulus' cloak on him (he was too nervous to fasten it himself), then, on Elisabeth's sign, they Apparated.

They ended up in a forest. A few yards away, through the trees, Romulus could see houses. He faintly noticed screaming in the distance.

"Christoph, go ask what's the matter," Elisabeth ordered. "Wands out. Hazel, look after him."

Hazel took Romulus by the sleeve before he had time to ask what Elisabeth meant. "Stay close to me," she said.

Christoph returned moments later with a woman in tow. She looked shocked, but sighed with relief when she saw the Capture Unit.

"Thank Merlin!" she said.

"What happened? What are we looking for?" Elisabeth said sharply. There was no time for chit-chat.

"A werewolf," the woman said, wide-eyed. Nicholas made a 'duh'-movement with his head, but Emily nudged him.

"Who's missing?" Christoph asked gently.

"Two Muggle children. They had gone out to play, but didn't return. And then I heard a wolf crying, and I realised it was a full moon…" She trailed off and covered her face with her hands.

"Thank you." Elisabeth turned to the others. Her face was set; she had already planned what to do, and had nearly forgotten the woman. "Nicholas, Anthony, you two go left, Emily and I will go to the right, Hazel and Romulus, stay in the middle. We're going to try and close him in. Christoph, you can go back with Mrs…"

"Stevenson."

"- back to her home. Try and comfort the parents, prepare them for a tragic loss. The others can come with me."

Hazel pulled Romulus forwards, deeper into the forest. To their left, they could hear Nicholas sing loudly. He was singing 'A pirate's life for me' at the top of his voice.

"Aren't we supposed to be quiet?" Romulus asked.

"Of course not," Hazel said, absentmindedly because she was looking carefully around. She had her wand lit. "We want to get noticed. Instead of looking left and right in a dark forest, it's much easier for the werewolf to come our way."

"Drink up me hearties!" Nicholas sang.

"Of course, Nicholas has his own special way of getting noticed."

As they walked on, the forest got darker. Only here and there, there were bright patches, from the moonlight shining through the trees. Save for the sound of the others from the Capture Unit – Nicholas was still singing, and Elisabeth and Emily were chatting as if they weren't about to face a werewolf – it was quiet. A foreboding sort of silence.

"Why did Elisabeth tell Christoph to prepare the parents for a tragic loss?"

"The chances of a Muggle child surviving in a forest with a werewolf are about two percent, that's why."

Romulus swallowed. "What are the other odds?"

"About five to six percent for a wizard child – sometimes, when they're lucky, they get so scared that they accidentally use their magic to repel the werewolf. The odds are slightly better for a Muggle adult – twelve to fifteen percent. A full-grown wizard has the most chance – up to twenty percent, especially if he has a wand. Of course, that is only surviving. It doesn't make a distinction between surviving with all your limbs intact or with… only one arm or something."

As Romulus nervously looked around, he was suddenly reminded of something. He had been thinking of Remus all night anyway, but he suddenly remembered that his brother had been only five and a half when he had been in a forest just like this one. But Remus hadn't had a wand, or six others to back him up. He had been completely helpless.

He was only five and a half. Only five to six percent of the wizard children survive…

"Wait." Hazel stopped him with another pull of his sleeve. Romulus stopped abruptly. He suddenly noticed the hairs on his back stood on end.

"What?" he breathed. He feared he was about to soil himself. It didn't help much that Hazel had a concentrated frown on her face. She nodded to a group of trees on their left.

"Oh God," he mouthed, as he saw that the trees shook almost unnoticeably.

"FINALLY!" Hazel suddenly screamed.

What happened next went all a little to fast for Romulus' brain to cope with. Alarmed by her scream, the werewolf suddenly leaped forward, lunging at the noisy human to silence her. Hazel pointed her wand at him and shouted a repelling charm. The werewolf was suddenly thrown backwards.

Anthony and Nicholas had meanwhile waded through the undergrowth towards Hazel and Romulus, just like Elisabeth and Emily.

"Just stun him!" Elisabeth barked. "Emily, go find the victims!" The werewolf had scrambled to his paws again and, hearing her voice, lunged at her now. She made a broad sweep with her wand as if waving a duelling sword. It seemed as if she had reached out with a long arm and slapped the werewolf to the side.

"Oh that's nice, send it our way!" Nicholas shouted. The anger in his voice was fake; he had a large grin on his face and the adrenaline surged through his veins. The werewolf opened his mouth, baring his huge fangs. He roared angrily.

"Yes, come here, big stinker!" Nicholas screamed, daring.

"For God's sake – !" Anthony began, standing right behind Nicholas. But before he could finish his sentence, the werewolf had already crouched down and suddenly launched himself towards Nicholas. Nicholas screamed, but not out of fear. It was out of sheer excitement, to overscream the werewolf. A second before the wolf would hit him, he deftly stepped out of the way, with the grace and experience of a bull fighter.

Anthony was standing ready, his wand pointed at the werewolf. The moment Nicholas had stepped to the side, Anthony shouted a stunning spell. At the same moment, Nicholas had whirled around and send the same spell at the werewolf's back. Hit from both sides, the werewolf hit the ground heavily, then lay completely still, frozen.

"Wow," Nicholas said, breathing heavily. His eyes glittered, and beads of sweat shone on his face. "That was pretty exciting."

Anthony walked towards the werewolf, put a foot on its back and placed the tip of his wand against its neck. He muttered a charm, and the werewolf suddenly went completely limp.

"Thanks for the warning you didn't give me," he said sourly to Nicholas.

"Sorry, got a bit carried away."

"Well, we got him, that's the most important part," said Elisabeth matter-of-factly. "Turn him over."

Nicholas and Anthony both bowed down and rolled the stunned werewolf on his back. Mud and wet leaves still stuck to its chest and claws. It looked like… well, a monster finally brought down.

"Wow, big boy," Nicholas said.

"Must be over six feet, normally," Anthony commented expertly. "I guess he's over seven feet now, from head to toe, maybe even close to eight feet."

"How come they're bigger in… in wolf-form?" Romulus stood slightly behind the others, feeling uncomfortable to get closer to the werewolf.

"They walk on their toes instead on their flat feet. Like a dog, really," Elisabeth lectured. "And their spine gets longer."

"Odd thought, that your brother looks like this, no?" Nicholas said conversationally.

"Nick!" Hazel said sharply.

"What? Oh, does that upset you?" he asked Romulus. Romulus shook his head. No, it didn't really upset him, but it was a strange thought.

"See?" Nicholas told Hazel. "And it's the truth anyway."

"Just because it's the truth doesn't mean you should just say it," she said sourly.

"Yeah. Like, it's a truth that you're annoying, but we don't say it," came Anthony. "Oh wait, we do."

"Could I get a hand here?" Emily called.

"Of course." Elisabeth cursed herself under her breath for forgetting her. "Anthony, keep an eye on the werewolf. The others can come with me."

They walked through the undergrowth to Emily. She was crouched next to two small forms which lay together, half-hidden under a bush. The two forms were huddled together, as if they had just fallen asleep.

"And?" Elisabeth asked when they had reached them.

"Dead," Emily said. She touched the smallest body almost tenderly. "He ripped the throats out, tore the jaw off the eldest – "

Elisabeth had crouched down too and gently turned the small body around. Blood had splattered the little green jacket, and the scarf around the neck had been torn away. There was no throat left, except bloody shards of flesh. The eyes of the little child were still open, but they were staring ahead, seeing nothing.

"Mind the left arm, it's half torn off," Emily warned. Elisabeth took the left hand in her own and squeezed it softly.

"Em, go back to the Ministry, get a squad of Obliviators and notify the Office of Misinformation. Tell them what happened, they can sort out what to tell the parents."

"Romulus?" Hazel asked suddenly. She had looked around to see where he was.

Romulus was leaning against a tree, his mouth open in case vomit decided to come out. He was feeling extremely dizzy. All he could think of was that little jacket – Thirza has the same size – splattered with blood, and those blank, wide-open eyes.

"Oh Merlin, you're not going to throw up, are you?" Nicholas asked, a worried tone in his voice. "I can't stand people throwing up."

"Emily, I think you'd better take him with you," Elisabeth said. "This was enough action for him."

Hazel patted Romulus on the back. "There, there. You can go home now, you heard that? It'll be okay."

"They're only so small," Romulus muttered, fighting back his feeling of nausea.

"I know, I know," Hazel said soothingly. "Come, you can go back to the Ministry with Emily, and… and try and get some sleep. Or go home, even. We won't blame you for it."

"After all, even Christoph pissed himself on his first time," came Nicholas.

"Nicholas, go to Anthony and tell him to get that werewolf to the Ministry as well," Elisabeth ordered. "Stop lazing about!"

"Yes, ma'am."

Emily had spread a blanket over the two children. She got to her feet and carefully wiped the dirt from her trousers. "And what are you going to do?" she asked.

"Lend Christoph a hand," Elisabeth said. "Listen, when you've been to the Misinformation, come back immediately."

"I know," Emily smiled. "I've done it before, you know. Come," she beckoned Romulus. "Let the others do the dirty work." She patted his arm. "Can you Apparate?"

Romulus nodded mutely.

"Good. Let's go then."

The last thing he saw where the bracing smiles of Elisabeth and Hazel. Seconds later, he was back in the Headquarters of the Unit. Everything was still as they had left it. The chess pieces were still waiting for his and Nicholas' second game.

"Go and lie down for a minute," Emily said, gently pushing him towards the bunk beds. "I have to go, but I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay," he croaked. She nodded, smiling approvingly – he was going to be fine after all – then left to get a few Obliviators.

Romulus walked slowly towards the beds, and sat down on one of the bottom beds. "Good Merlin," he muttered. "Bloody hell." He stared at his hands, curved them for a moment into claws. He couldn't for the life of him imagine tearing two children to pieces, but that was what had happened this evening. Someone innocent – someone like Remus, perhaps, just as nice and big-brotherly and silly and kind – had ripped the throats of two children who had just stayed out too long. He slumped back on the bed, staring at the bottom of the bed above him.

Remus tearing out the throats of Thirza and Ralph, maiming their warm, little bodies.

"Bloody hell, what have I got myself into?" he muttered, bewildered.

"You okay?" Sirius poked his head around the door of Remus' room. It was seven o'clock in the morning, and he figured that his friend would have Changed back by now.

"Damn it, Padfoot!"

Sirius saw Remus' head, the greying hair standing every-which-way, appear from behind the bed, look wildly at him, then disappear again. A few seconds later, Remus appeared again, leaning with his elbows on the bed and supporting his head with his hands.

"You okay?" Sirius repeated.

"Yes, all fine and dandy," Remus muttered sarcastically. "Can I kill somebody?"

"Snape's coming round again this evening, so be my guest."

"No, let's not," Remus said. He scratched his head. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry." Sirius made to walk into the room, but Remus stopped him.

"Just… let me get dressed first, okay?" He felt around on the bed for as far as he could reach while sitting on the floor. He found his pyjamas and quickly put them on. "I'm not in the mood to start mooning you. And keep all those Moony-comments to yourself."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Sirius said.

"You'd better." Remus heaved himself off the floor and sat down on the bed. "At least one good thing of staying here. The bed's in the same room."

"So you're staying here again next month?" Sirius said. He sat down on the bed as well.

"For God's sake, Padfoot," Remus groaned. "That's four weeks away, thank Merlin. I don't want to think about that right now, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good."

They were silent for a few moments. Remus was leaning back against the headboard, his eyes closed. In Sirius' eyes, he looked downright tortured.

Sirius was just contemplating going downstairs and bring Remus breakfast, when Remus said: "oh, I think we should check the plumbing up here."

"Why?"

"I heard this buzzing all night long. I'm not sure it's the plumbing, but I wouldn't know what else it could be."

"Buzzing?" Sirius said, frowning.

"Yeah. I've never heard it before, but then again, I've never had such good ears as tonight."

"I'll look into it," Sirius promised. He sighed inwardly. Another 'useful' task he'd rather not be doing. "Now, can I get you some breakfast?"

"Tea and toast, just tea and toast, please," Remus said softly. He didn't think his stomach could take more at the moment.

"One portion of tea and toast, or two?" Sirius joked. Remus scowled but didn't think this comment worthy of a reply. "Breakfast coming right up, I'll be right back."

"I'm not going anywhere," Remus promised. He had his eyes closed again, so he didn't see Sirius leave, but he heard the door close. He sighed. If he were Sirius, he would say that changing into a werewolf and back again wasn't just a pain in the ass, but in the rest of his body as well. He smiled a little. Actually, that was pretty funny.

He abruptly opened his eyes when he heard the buzzing again. He had never heard it before when he was in his normal, human, Remus-form. Actually, it was more a humming, or a soft growling. He looked around to see where it was coming from. If it was the plumbing, it should come from his bathroom (the luxury, his own private little bathroom…), but it didn't. It came from very close to him.

"My bedside table doesn't hum," he muttered distractedly. "And my bed doesn't either. Not that I know, anyway." He had just said that when he realised it was coming from his bed. From right under him, in fact. He frowned. Don't let it be Kreacher. No, he wouldn't hum. Maybe it's a Boggart… another one…

Only one way to find out. He crouched on the bed, then stuck his head over the edge and looked under it. He narrowed his eyes to be able to see in the darkness. There was nothing but a lot of dust and a pair of socks he thought he'd lost.

The humming had stopped for a moment, but the second he looked under the bed, it started louder than ever. Remus looked in the direction it was coming from, and his mouth would have dropped had his head not been upside-down. There, in a corner, covered in dust, sat a small custard-coloured furball, purring at him.

"Monster?!"