Chapter One: Stains

Remus slowly walked up the stairs, stopping just long enough to hear the conversation below start up again in a whirlwind of new gossip straining to reach untouched ears. The door to the fifth year's boys dormitory was located far up in Gryffindor tower, and he frowned as he began to make the long journey.

He climbed with a slight limp and grimace. The full moon had only been three days ago, and he had just been released from an overly-fussy nurse this morning. He couldn't complain, of course. Lonely nights were suddenly made into gallivanting hours that made even James and Sirius, two of the most energetic boys he had met, tired and droopy the next morning ever since they decided to join in with his transformations at the beginning of the year.

How surprised he was when they announced their accomplishments of becoming animagi. Since getting bitten, he had lived in a secluded and lost world, life quickly teaching him not to expect much – if anything – from anyone, even his parents. As much as Ma and Pa wanted to help him, no reason, not even being their son, could erase the revulsion in their eyes when they saw him transform. Those burning looks, no matter how hard they had tried to hide them, imprinted and molded themselves to form a wrap of depression around him.

The moon – ah, that round, bright orb that rose and fell every night, staring at him like a dark eye, beckoning him to come in and get closer, closer, closer and give in to his animal instincts. All others considered the moon as a source of magic and energy. It was the Great Mother of the Egyptians. Its morality was above that of the Sun God to the Romans, the ancients he was named for. It was supposed to rule life and death. And all it did for him was to awaken the monster deep inside, goading it and prodding it to come out and tear to pieces anything that walked.

He never told anyone. Anyone. He was warned not to, by both his parents and Dumbledore multiple times. He heeded their advice. The only way he could guarantee his secret stay that way, he convinced himself, was to befriend no one. Never get close to anyone or else they'll find out your secret and you'll be on the next train home to a dark cellar, full of blood stains that refused to come off, chains that rattled your bones, and always, always deep scratches and memories of long and painful nights, spinning, spinning, around him.

But James and Sirius figured it out. They always did, in the end. Remus could feel it in his blood as they got nearer and nearer to his loathed secret. He began avoiding them, trying to take his meals in the hospital wings and always being the last one to classes….but you could never outwit them. Remus skirted around and tried to direct their attention elsewhere, while secretly, in the very bottom of his soul, his heart willed for them to find out. Willed for them to know and to help and not to push him away. But he always squashed that thought and concentrated on other things, trivial things. He began spending ten minutes a day just knotting his red-and-gold stripped tie. And when they finally reached the end of the path, how relieved he was that his happiest wish had come true. James and Sirius would never push him away – they were friends, Marauders, bound together as blood brothers. The whisper of doubt inside his head was ignored, forgotten, but it remained somewhere in the corners of his brain, plotting out what its next step would be.

It had seized its chance now. Somewhere along the road, James and Sirius had turned from "cute" to "drop dead sexy." Their attention from the female gender was overwhelming, and far be it from Remus to stop that. But James and Sirius reciprocated that interest, and more. While they spent adventurous nights with hordes of girls, Remus waited quietly in the dormitory for them, for them to come back and tell the obligated story about who they had shagged that night and to slowly chip away another part of his spirit. Sometimes he played Exploding Snap with Peter and sometimes he did homework, but most of the time he pondered. And sometimes, sometimes when he was feeling brave, he'd go into the Unknown area, where he could think about what life would be like if he hadn't been in that dark forest at that time. But he never stayed there too long. Remus was smart enough to know that if he ever let himself be dragged into that area, he could never come out and spend all his days dreaming.

Why didn't any girls like him? Why was it always James and Sirius, and sometimes even Peter, but never Remus?

You know why. You just don't want to admit it.

There was the voice again, that familiar sibilant whisper talking in his ears as it always did, of horrors and taunts, and above all, the truth. It spoke, as it always did, of the darkness hidden beneath the shadow of the moon, of trusts forsaken and oaths broken, of betrayal and faithlessness and the things that beasts did to fellow men, and death. The sweet stench of blood, its hot stickiness as it slid between his fingers, dripping, dripping, drying, and flaking upon his feverish skin, then the hot gush as it slipped and slithered on his lips and tongue and down his parched throat and the heat as it settled in the pits of his belly, burning hot, molten fire running through his sluggish veins. He would then gag against the rising bile while the Voice laughed and mocked him.

That's not the reason why, he argued back firmly.

Of course it is. It's because you're a killer. A beast. A savage. A WEREWOLF.

STOP! he silently screamed, clapping his hands around his ears.

And for a moment, he had hidden it again. But it would come out, Remus knew it would. All he had done was make it stronger, and now it would begin planning again, plotting little deaths that would soon amount to something big….something catastrophic.

He had reached the door and he kicked it open, stumbling in and shaking from the aftermath of the ordeal. He collapsed on the unmade bed, and all he saw were stag antlers and a broken shack and the bittersweet painting of death swirling around, around, around, and Remus feels like he's drowning.

BAM.

Lily came out of Sleep's warm arms immediately, snapping straight up in her bed and gasping. Gasp. Gasp. Gasp. Breathe, Lily, remember to breathe. She placed her hand on her heart and willed it to stop thumping so loudly in the echoing room. When she took her hand off, it was sticky and warm. Her white nightgown was soaked with perspiration that ran down her back and between her breasts that had seeped onto her white sheets, turning them a darker color in the pale moonlight. The backs of her knees, her arms, her hands – they were all weeping with sweat. Her hair clung to her cheeks and forehead and became a helmet to protect her from locked away memories that had decided to take a joy ride through her mind again.

And, oh no – she could feel a strange lump growing in her throat and pushed against her will and her eyes stinging with some sort of strange emotion. No, no – don't cry Lily, crying's for babies who can't take care of themselves. Crying's for girls who don't have any sense of pride – only stupid people like you show weakness.

She couldn't help the choked sob and pant that escaped this time in a loud cough. Lily's eyes grew wide and she slapped a hand onto her traitorous mouth and listened intently.

There was no sound, save for the slight breeze rustling through dark trees in the Forbidden Forest and the slight snoring of Marianna, who had always denied it when her friends told her about her "horrible and atrocious, really dahling, you must find a spell for that" habit.

She hadn't meant for that to happen – no, definitely not. But…those words were so familiar, and somewhere in the veiled corners of her brain, she remembered…

…eyes narrowed in anger….

….lips tightened with annoyance….

….a harsh slap across the cheek….

…. "Don't you dare cry, bitch. Crying's for girls who don't have any sense of pride. Only stupid people like you show weakness. Come over here."

Lily shook her head harshly. No, that was not an area she wanted to visit today. Maybe some other day, if they ever found a therapist dim enough to take her as a patient. She imagined herself lying down on an expensive couch moaning about the horrors of life while an unconcerned shrink writing down notes. She giggled, glad to find something to laugh about after that. Images like that weren't real life – they were just side effects of listening to girls in her dormitory talk about sex books.

Oh, she had forgotten about her sheets. She couldn't possibly sleep in them now – she'd catch a cold for sure and then spend the rest of the day in bed with no one to take notes for her in class. Miserably, she thought about her meager options. She could take the risk and sleep in her sheets, but they had Double Charms and she really didn't want to miss that. She could go ask the house elves if they could change her sheets, but then she realized with disappointment that she had no idea where the house elves slept. No doubt James Potter or Sirius Black would know, but she'd rather take the chance of being sick than going to them for help. Especially now, at – and here she glanced at her watch – four o'clock in the morning. In fact, they probably wouldn't even be in their dormitories and would probably be off shagging some girl in some broom closet. Oh well. Perhaps she should just change into her uniform and read for a while…yes, that was what she would do.

Lily drew back the curtains from her four-poster bed and quietly stepped onto the cold floors. There were still black scuff marks on the floor, a souvenir from their third year when Marianna and her friends were all driven by greed, a common mark of young teenage years. That's MY lip-gloss you're wearing…MY clothes are in that drawer, YOUR'S are in the other one….

Marianna had decided to mark their territory once and for all. "After all," she argued. "It's only the correct choice. I mean, who knows what's going to happen if we keep on fighting between our belongings? This will prevent our friendship from breaking." So she had gotten out Widdershin's Permastay Marker – great for all surfaces! – and had proceeded to trace out five wobbly separations. "There," she announced, standing up, face flushed. "Now we know exactly where our boundaries lie."

Whether that method would've been successful or not in keeping their "friendship from breaking", Lily never knew. Only a week after the lines had been put in place, McGonagall had scheduled a surprise dormitory cleaning. Marianna had proudly displayed their room to her. "It's the perfect idea, it really is," she exclaimed. "I don't see why any one hasn't done it yet."

McGonagall's mouth opened in horror and her eyes flew out. "What in Merlin's name do you girls think you're doing! This castle has been here for over five-hundred years! Godric Gryffindor himself built this room! This – this," she choked out, "This is destruction of school property! I have never seen such terrible behavior in all my time at Hogwarts!"

"All five of you," she pointed a shaking finger at group of third year girls who were fish-eyed with gaped mouths, "Detention! Tonight! Eight o'clock, scrubbing out these atrocious marks!"

Eight o'clock came, and by the time the clock struck eleven, the girls were still scrubbing away at the first line and not making any progress. The stain stayed on stubbornly, refusing to come off. When McGonagall came back to check on them, she was shocked. "Three hours and you haven't accomplished anything. Why, you must be the most disagreeable group girls ever!" She shook her head, annoyed. Whipping out her wand, she muttered, "Scourgify!"

There was no difference. The lines stayed clear as day ….but, there – if you looked closely, they had turned a slightly lighter shade of black. The girls stared at McGonagall. Their teacher – one of the most powerful witches in this school – couldn't get rid of these nuisances. McGonagall looked traumatized. The poor, poor lady. At least the Marauders' pranks were easily scrubbed off with a few hours of detention, but this – coming from a group of behaved third year girls, was unheard of.

The next morning, the five girls had descended to the Great Hall only to find a large banner posted up by the doors declaring: Widdershin's Permastay Marker is completely banned from the premises! Any student found in possession of one will be given detention immediately! Of course, this just encouraged the Marauders even more to try out this product.

Lily smiled wryly at the memory. It was a surprise the universe hadn't collapsed yet from the actions of that group yet. She remembered when Marianna and she used to –

– wait. She wasn't supposed to be thinking about that, was she?

No, she definitely wasn't. So, what was she thinking of before?

Although the other girls now complained about the lines, she adored them. They were a mark of childish innocence, when life was impetuous and free and fairies carried hope to the edges of the earth. When pain was a scraped knee from a clumsy fall. When sadness was running out of candy before Halloween came again.

There were always some stains – imperfections and aberrations of beauty – that nothing could ever remove. But with time, gentle handling, and a contrite heart, sometimes even stains could make an object even more exquisite.

The snoring was really getting to Lily. She wasn't being particularly fussy, but it was very hard to concentrate on Charles Dickens with that sound drilling into your ear. She had already stood it for about two hours, but she knew she was at her cracking point when she felt her face involuntarily twitch at every snore. Sitting on her bed in a pleated skirt and crisp oxford shirt, she weighed her choices. Going into the Common Room and running the risk of meeting someone, or staying back here and listening to her roommates sleep?

Moans and breathless gasps suddenly interrupted Lily's reverie. "Oh Charles, mmm…..yes, right there – yes, YES!" She blanched. Alright, that was it. Going downstairs to the Common Room was a risk she was much more willing to take than going insane from listening to her roommates' sex dreams.

She grabbed her book and a soft duvet and slid on her leather shoes. She made her way to the clustered doorway and opened the door quietly and slipped out into the hall. Clunk clunk clunk. Her heeled shoes made echoes that rang through the empty staircase. They then found themselves muffled by the thick shag rug of the dim light of the Common Room. The fire was slowly dying out, and Lily prodded the wood a little bit to keep it going. She spotted the couch that Black was sitting on from her dream and hesitantly made her way over.

She could count the number of times she had ever sat on the couch with the fingers from her right finger. Gradually, she lowered herself onto the cushions and soon sunk into the comfort of the support. She was a five-year-old again, dwarfed by huge mountains of cushion on both sides of her. Wrapping her blanket around her frail shoulders, she leafed through Great Expectations and began reading on page 235.

"Great Expectations, huh? I remember I used to admire Pip greatly when I was a child," came a disembodied voice from her left.

Lily jumped, dropped the book, and snapped her head over violently and she looked in the direction where the comment had come from. When she saw the person, she relaxed visibly and picked up her book.

"Hello, Remus. You gave me quite a scare. What are you doing down here at this time?"

The pale boy shifted uncomfortably in his armchair. "Er…I had trouble sleeping tonight." And it was true, for Remus had been kept up by the incessant voice whispering sweet nothings. "Although I could ask you the same question."

Now it was Lily's turn to be uncomfortable. "Yeah, I…uh….remembered I still had to do McGonagall's essay in the middle of the night, and now I can't sleep."

Both of them, knowing the other had lied, chose not to comment and wondered if their secret was still theirs to keep.

Hastily, Lily changed the topic. "You admired Pip? Hmm…I always thought of him as very greedy and shifty. Maybe I didn't hate him, but I didn't admire him either."

The boy cocked his head, allowing her to go ahead.

"Well, Pip himself is not always honest, and I caught him in several obvious contradictions between his truth and fantasies. His obsession with Estella was crazy, and it brought about his downfall."

Remus laughed. "What a typical comment for you to make, Lily. Always seeing the bad in people, eh?"

The redhead grinned, a rare occurrence. "I do not! Take that back!"

"Alright, alright."

Lily drummed her fingers together and stared at the fire. Reds, golds, oranges, and browns that mixed and twisted around each other to form a strand of blaze that shone brightly. After a while, her eyes began to water and she turned her head towards her companion.

"So, Dickens? I didn't know you read Muggle literature, Remus."

"Neither did I. Dickens was a wizard, Lily. I do believe he attended Hogwarts during the eighteen hundreds, right before his career in the Muggle word went off. A true Ravenclaw, I've heard."

Lily groaned and closed her eyes. "Aw, Remus, you've just ruined his works for me! I had always taken a fancy to Dickens, being amazed that a Muggle like him could produce such eloquent works. Now that I know he was a wizard, it's not that big of an accomplishment anymore!"

Remus was amused at her innocence. How far from the truth he was though. Lily had never been innocent in any form of her life. "That's okay. I promise I won't tell you how Jules Verne, Emily Bronte, Jane Austen, and Mark Twain were all magical too. Oops! Did that just slip out of my mouth?" And he threw up his arms from the pillows pelting down at him.

"I cannot believe you, Remus Lupin!"

Abruptly echoing footsteps one again graced the steps and someone else was coming.

"Oy! Remus, no orgies allowed in the Common Room!" came James Potter's arrogant voice from the staircase.

The mood of the room changed suddenly. No longer was the carefree, easy banter of acquaintances here – it had been replaced by a shift of tension and apprehension.

The tall, dark boy descended from the stone stairs and padded his way towards Remus and Lily. He was dressed in his uniform already and Lily realized with a shock that it was already breakfast time. The sun was rising outside, casting in early morning mists into the Common Room.

She cleared her throat nervously, not being able to look either James or Remus in the eye. She licked her unexpectedly dry lips and tried to ignore her parched throat. "Well, I suppose it's time for me to go upstairs and brush my teeth." Her foot played against the threads of the deep crimson carpet. "I, uh, guess I'll see you later in Charms, Remus."

And she turned away and fled up the stairs before seeing Remus' uncertain nod and bewildered look that graced his smooth features.

Lily walked quickly to the Great Hall, head cast down and eyes concentrated on the slapping of shoes against the cold stone floor. The Great Hall was still quiet with morning buzz and a few students yawning and rubbing their sleepy eyes and downing cups of coffee. The normally loud and boisterous crowd of Marauders and their female groupies were absent as she made her way down to the very end of Gryffindor table and took her seat, the same one she had sat in as a first year welcomed to the house and where she had been ever since. She propped her Transfiguration book against the pumpkin juice pitcher and proceeded to load up her plate with toast and eggs. She mentally berated herself as her fingers found page 593, Chapter Sixteen: Side Effects of Human Transfiguration. Why she decided to go down to the Common Room was beyond her thinking again. Why couldn't she just have stayed in her noisy dormitory and study for their Transfiguration quiz today instead of going downstairs and having a lovely, but somewhat interrupted conversation with Remus Lupin?

Well, of course Remus wouldn't pay attention to her anymore after James Potter came downstairs. He was his friend, and she was just….just an acquaintance. Yes, just an acquaintance, not really a friend.

But if Remus wasn't her friend, then who was? Certainly no one else from her year in Gryffindor, and definitely not from Slytherin. And Hufflepuff, well, she could only remember one class they had ever had together, and that were their first year flying lessons, which Lily, wincing, really wouldn't have preferred to think about right now. That only left Ravenclaws…it'd only be logical that she'd have friends in that house from their very similar working habits. In fact, she still couldn't fathom why the Sorting Hat placed her in Gryffindor, even when she had begged and pleaded to be put into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. Those impulsive and rash people would surely trample her to death. But the Hat had refused and been very insistent on Gryffindor. Lily, just a timid eleven-year-old with no understanding of magic, decided to listen to the Hat, for if it could make those wonderful lyrics about the houses, then it should surely be able to choose the right one for her.

But she didn't have any friends in Ravenclaw. She supposed that with her shy personality and their quiet attitudes, nothing was ever done it terms of even inciting a new friendship. And her heart suddenly tightened and she remembered the Olden days when she had been surrounded by a gaggle of girls whenever she went somewhere and then going to a broken home….

Concentrate, Lily! Hurry up and eat your breakfast and stop thinking about stupid things that just waste your time. Haste, haste. Read your Transfiguration book. Make sure you have all your homework. Get to class on time. And for Merlin's sake, stop trying to remember the feel of a butterfly's wings across your cheeks.