Disclaimer: Characters, names and places are JK Rowling's property.
Author's notes: Something in a character profile on Remus made me want to write this story. I don't know if it really has a plot or anything, but I hope you'll enjoy it.
It was just another month in the same fashion as any other month. Remus excused himself from his studies as Dumbledore himself entered the Gryffindor common room and asked for a word alone. The word was nothing, not even an utterance. It never was, just a silent recognition of the event to come.
Sometimes, Dumbledore would escort him to the Whomping Willow and other times it would be another professor. Remus liked it best of all when it was Professor Dumbledore. He never asked how Remus was feeling, or if he'd like something, or would give him odd looks. The stoic nature of the elderly man calmed Remus, not for long, but long enough.
Even after all these years of transformations, Remus' belly would still knot up and his hands shake. He'd sweat so badly that he'd have to take at least two showers that day. The nights before were even worse. A steady stream of clawing nightmares would gouge into his regular sleep cycle, two to three days prior to the event.
Despite how terrible it seemed, Remus was used to this. This had become nothing more than routine for him. It was the speculating eyes of his friends every month that made everything so much worse.
Closing his book, Remus settled it into his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder, as if he'd have time for studying later. He crossed the room, Dumbledore resting a warm, wrinkled hand on his shoulder to guide him out. Even so, amber eyes drifted over the divide to his friends' faces. For once, only Peter's eyes followed him, curious as ever. James and Sirius seemed deep in their conversation over a wizard's chess board, foreheads nearly touching as they spoke feverishly. Another prank no doubt. Remus was glad that at least they'd have that to keep them company and preoccupied.
The dirt was cool against Remus' palms, while fingers trailed the tunnel's length to the Shrieking Shack. He'd stripped down to his underwear and an undershirt. The rest was folded neatly in Dumbledore's office on top of his book-bag. Under his feet, he felt the pervading roots and tiny rocks, and the occasional stubbed toe on either one of these items. One time of chewing up a pair of good shoes had forced him to go without the rest of the time, despite Dumbledore's offers to follow him up and take the shoes back.
Reaching the end of the tunnel, Remus sighed. It would just be another night. Another full moon night. Bare toes squeezed the dirt, while hands hung limply in fists at his sides. Even now the damnable beast stirred itself within him. He could feel it as if the large wolf had brushed up against him.
Once inside, Remus flopped onto the shredded sofa. All he could really do now was wait. Fingers curled themselves around the fluffy intestines, and walked along the wooden bones. The window yawned at the white moon, full and close. It felt as if, as if, if only he would stand and go to the window, he could draw the moon in the house. He could deflate it and never have to suffer again.
But what of those lovers, who now smiled wistfully at the lulling shine and purred little nothings for one another to hear. James and Lily unfurled in his mental image. He couldn't take the moon from them for his own selfish reasons.
So he waited.
The beast stirred. It stretched and yawned, eying the full moon with intense curiosity. Excitement flooded its body and it leapt with joy.
Remus doubled in pain as the first convulsion of his skin shuddered over him.
The beast snarled in frustration as it was unable to reach the beloved moon. The human body stood in the way.
Another seizure of pain thrust through Remus, his skin starting to feel too tight, like it were being stretched over a body far larger than his own.
Lashing in anger, the beast felt the seal of humanity start to wear away.
Remus cried out in agony as long gashes started down his thighs, and across his shoulders. Droplets of crimson blood beaded at the gashes, but the pulsing fur underneath kept too much blood from falling.
A moment for Remus to curl in upon himself, eyes staring at the wooden floor he didn't remember falling to. Sobs, heavy and tearless, spasmed throughout his vulnerable form. It wouldn't be long for another seizure of the beast to take over.
A shriek, one to crown the Shrieking Shack's history, as every one before it, tore itself off Remus' lips. Hunched over now, the boy could feel his deformed body changing, his jaws long and narrow and full of teeth, and his bones too big for his frame. An opalescent strand of saliva stretched down to the floor.
Not long now. Not long before he lost his mind completely to the instinctual urges, heavy with scent and sound.
Elongated, dark clawed hands pounded into the splintering floor. "Why!" Remus heard himself scream, falling into a drowning howl. The night swallowed him whole. Held him captive with such amazing sounds, scents and creatures.
He didn't know how long he'd been staring through slitted eyes up at the ceiling, but it only now registered. Not too unusual. A heavy breath found his form aching and the boy let out the air slowly to avoid more pain.
Something warm and furry moved against his side.
Remus froze.
A gulp.
Then a wet nose in his face and a soft pink tongue dragging warm, wet drool across his tender chest. Remus stared down at the black dog, who seemed perfectly content to lick and nuzzle and cuddle. To the other side, and to Remus' surprise, a rather large young stag stared at him. Its eyes were half lidded and it blinked lazily.
Sitting up slowly, Remus found the dog helping him, gentle not to press too hard on the wounds of the night. Even so, his wounds were not half of what they normally were.
The stag continued to watch him, not moving while the boy reached out a hand to touch the furred flank of the animal. Surely this dog was nothing more than a stray, thinking it'd found a packmate, and the stag…Remus thought a moment, the stag's nose hovering over his hand, snuffling gently. Perhaps he and the dog had brought it and now, wounded, even if he couldn't see, it was resigned to its death and…The stag's tongue appeared to lap at a wound on his hand.
Remus pulled away quickly, yelping as a torn muscle protested. The dog, his nurse it seemed, jumped to attention, nuzzling him and pawing at him. "I'm ok, I think," Remus sighed. "It just…hurts when I wake up. No prey, so I take it out on myself…"
The comment seemed to disturb the stag as it suddenly got to its feet, stretching out and waggling its tail at him. When it turned back, however, Remus realized it hadn't been disturbed, merely trying to find something. Between the thick teeth of the animal, a small fuzzy object wiggled and squealed.
A rat.
Remus found himself laughing. "That's not even a crumb. And I'm not up for hunting now."
The stag dropped the rat unceremoniously into Remus' naked lap, something the rat wasn't too happy about. Remus himself jumped to his feet as the sensation of tiny feet in private areas scrambled to find a getaway. Having grabbed the rodent as he stood, the boy now looked uselessly at the animal as it struggled in his hand. "I don't suppose you're like them, eh? I'm not going to hurt you now. I don't like hurting things…" As he said this, the rat seemed to perk forward with a strange understanding. It stopped struggling and hung rather limply in his hand. Feeling a bit confused, Remus settled the animal on the ground.
"I don't know who you are, but you're awfully odd animals, you know," he commented as he walked towards one of the closets and pulled a blanket within. With their eyes on him as they were, it almost felt as if there were humans watching him, not animals.
Amber eyes glanced at the window he'd watched the moon rise through. The sun was on the verge of rising, streaking rich colors on the horizon. "No one will come and get me for another hour or so." It was a lonely comment, one that Remus felt silly saying. He didn't normally talk to himself. So why did he feel as if it was ok to talk to the animals?
A furred head butted his hand and trusting blue eyes stared up at him, pink tongue lolling. Remus smiled softly. "You're welcome to stay, though I don't know who's coming, so you might want to scatter before they come."
The stag clicked its left front hoof on the floor, bobbing its head with budding antlers, almost as an agreement. Maybe they really did understand him.
"I wonder if you have names…" The stag and the dog threw looks at one another, one whuffling and the other sneezing, as if they were laughing. "I'll take that as a yes, but as I neither speak dog nor deer, would you mind if I named you myself?" Both animals looked expectantly at him, while the rat seemed to have disappeared somewhere.
Remus settled onto the couch, covering his lap with the blanket. To the stag, whose antlers were still young and budding from his crown, Remus grinned, "Prongs seems appropriate for you, sir. And to you…" the boy's eyes drifted to the dog, who hopped up beside him on the couch and put a paw in his lap. Remus took the paw, feeling the tender pad. It seemed odd that a dog his age, especially a stray, wouldn't have more of a callous. "And to you…" Remus repeated, "Pads…Paddy…Padfoot. There. How's that?" The dog grinned at him and he took it as the canine's ok.
"Where's your other friend? The rat?" Remus glanced around, and even the other two seemed a bit confused as to where it'd gone. "I had the perfect name for him too. Wormtail. He wiggled so much it made his tail look like a worm." The other two animals made their respective laughing noises.
Having dressed himself quickly, Remus hurried back to the Gryffindor dorms. Nearly everyone would be in class now, so it didn't matter if he popped in for a book before going to check in with Madame Pomfrey. He was feeling far better than usual, anyway. Maybe she'd just let him sleep the day away in his own bed.
Stepping into the dorm, Remus stopped. Something wasn't right here. The curtains were drawn as if to keep out the warm sunlight drifting in, and three of the beds had their own curtains drawn. In fact, three beds he knew very well.
About to raise his voice in admonishment to his lazy friends, he realized he wasn't supposed to be back. That would make a rather sticky predicament. Instead, the boy tiptoed to the trunk at the end of his bed and went through the short stack the other boys had brought up for him earlier.
Grabbing the book he needed, Remus turned to leave as a sleepy voice called out, "Oi. 'Zat you, Remus?"
The boy turned slowly to greet Sirius with a sheepish grin. "Yeah, but I…I…uhm. I fell off my broom and I…uh…"
"Oh put a sock innit," Sirius waved a hand absently.
Remus sighed softly, "I need to go see Madam Pomfrey."
"She can wait," another drowsy voice muttered. James leaned against one of the posts on his bed, the curtains on his bed hanging around him like a velvet cloak.
Glancing up, Remus found Peter yawning and rubbing his eyes at the edge of his bed. "Well?"
"Well what?" Sirius asked.
"Well why are you keeping me? I really do have to see her. If I don't, she'll come looking for me, and undoubtedly drag your sorry arses down to there too." Remus settled his fists akimbo, this was getting annoying.
James shrugged, watching Remus with a cool-eyed gaze. Sirius tilted his head to one side.
"Do we get to name you too?" Peter asked suddenly.
"What do you mean 'name you too'?" Remus cocked an eyebrow at the other boy.
Sirius grinned at James, "Oi, Prongs, whadderya say? I think we should name him here n' now."
James laughed, "Agreed, Padfoot. What d' you say, Wormtail?"
"Here! Here!"
Remus found himself, embarrassingly enough, choking on his own salvia very abruptly. Of course those animals seemed odd. They were odd even in their human forms. Recovering, Remus turned wide-eyed on the other boys in the room, "When I get back, I better get a thorough explanation, or I'll put something terribly slimey in all of your beds for the rest of the year."
Strangely enough, Remus never did get the full explanation.