Disclaimer: Not mine. Hers. :points to JK:

A/N: Yeah, it's taken me awhile to update this, mostly because of lack of reviews. Also, I found it hard to write Remus, but once inspired, there's no stopping me. So, here you have it. Next up, I believe, will be Snape.

Peace.

Remus remembered the first time he'd transformed with a clarity that scared him. He was a boy then, small and pale and bookish, and he'd known it was coming; everybody had known it was coming: the first time he really stopped being…human. His parents told him it changed nothing, that they still loved him and wouldn't stop, but Remus had seen something in their eyes that even at his young age he knew was unbridled fear. For what, he didn't know—the way he might be treated? If he would get an education? Worry about his future? Terror, even,…of him? None of those options appealed to him, and he retreated farther and farther into himself, waiting for the full moon and the horror it might bring.

It had started with a strange, anxious sensation. He was so wound up, he was jittering, his skin shining sickly with perspiration. His parents had taken him to a secluded wood, one far away from town where he couldn't eat anything except animals. His mother wept to leave her son alone in what would surely become suffocating darkness, and his father tensely suggested they stay—but Remus wouldn't hear of it.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, already feeling a strange, gnawing pain his gut. "Please, just go." His parents stared at him; his mother reached out to touch his cheek, and Remus had jolted angrily, almost…almost growling. The look on his mother's face haunted him to this day. Her eyes brightened with tears and for the first time in his life, he saw agony in his mother's gentle gaze.

"All right," his father had agreed, staring apprehensively up at the sky, wincing as dusk left and night began to set in. "We'll be back first thing in the morning, son. Please…be…" He searched for the proper word. "…careful. We love you."

"I love you, too," Remus whispered, now feeling horribly sick, every muscle in his body tensed. When they Apparated away, he wanted to sob like the child he was, but the pain would not allow him even that. He nervously paced a section of the forest, feeling dizzy and odd. And then, it hit him as the first light of the moon shone through the trees. He crashed backwards, screaming and sobbing in intense pain and a strange rage. It was as though somebody was stabbing him over and over again with a blunt sword—his hands were ripping themselves apart, his hair was on fire, his spine was being twisted like a pretzel, he could not see, could think only of the pain and of fury, the horrible, animal-like fury that he was being made to endure this. He made to scream again, but it did not come out the way it always had—he howleda long, echoing howl that came from the pit of his stomach, the anger that twisted there, the need to kill something, and kill it now.

He could not remember anything more than that, because he suspected after that, sweet, innocent, sensitive Remus had been gone, replaced by the monster brought out only by the moon. When his parents had found him in the morning, they had been horrified—he was unconscious, lying spread-eagled on his back in the center of the clearing they'd left him in, and he was covered in blood and bruises. And it had to be said: most of that blood did not belong to him.

His life had revolved around that monthly transformation well into his years at Hogwarts. When his friends had worked it out and understood what he was, they had joined him, shape shifting and breaking laws—and Remus hadn't had to endure the pain alone anymore. His head was clearer when Sirius was padding along beside him, grunting and growling at him in a gruff reassurance. He could retain some sanity when James was galloping around him, daring the werewolf to try and catch him. He felt lighter and happier when Peter darted between all of them, squeaking energetically and keeping tabs on the three. The pain did not fade, it never had, but everything seemed simpler when his friends were there, when they showed they cared every time they risked Azkaban for him.

Yes, the pain of being a werewolf was a terrible one. Remus would never deny that.

But that torture—it was nothing compared to this.

It meant nothing, absolutely nothing when, after a panicked attempt to find her, he saw her cold face, once so cheerful and beautiful. This pain—this overwhelming, agonizing, furious pain—came from Nymph's hand, still curled loosely around her wand, came from her once vibrant hair now limp and dirty, came from her staring eyes and spirit and everything that made her his Tonks simply…gone. Remus had lost a lot: his humanity, the three only and best friends he'd ever had (two to death, and one to the Dark Side), and he'd lost the single woman he'd ever allowed himself to love, the only woman, he suspected, who would ever see past the monster he was, and love Remus.

And he had had enough, he had enough loss and enough hurt and enough of losing anybody who ever mattered. He was fucking sick and tired of the ache that came from being Remus fucking Lupin, and he could still not believe that he would never hear her voice again or hold her to him and breathe in her scent.

So Remus became the beast then, abandoning his humanity at last and killing. He was howling and killing and avenging her, and he was happy. He was happy to see those Death Eaters die, happy to let them hurt for once. And then, something funny happened—something he had almost expected. There was a blinding flash of green light, and he crashed backwards, almost as he had done all those years ago. He could hear a faint voice saying, "Professor, no!" (was it Hermione, that voice?) and he was falling, he was floating, he was weightless. He knew what had happened, and he did not care. Glorious light was pouring over Remus, and he could see Tonks waiting at the edge of the clearing, her arms folded and her face bright, carefree. James was next to her, and he waved insanely, beaming his head off—he looked so young, bloody hell he looked so young—and yes, there was Sirius, a crooked smile on his face.

"Oi, Moony!" Sirius hollered. "What in Merlin's name are you waiting for? Come home, you sod."

"Sirius," Tonks' clear voice berated him, "let him take his time!"

But Remus did not want to take his time anymore. He raced towards them, joyously and wonderfully, and he embraced them all, sobbing with the beauty of it all as they led him towards something lovely and green—he thought he could see Lily through the haze—and Tonks had his hand and was whispering,

Remus, Remus, be at peace.

And for the first time in decades, he was.