Author's note: CW for post-moon scenes/gore, mention of death, and grief

-x-

The smell of blood greeted Remus when his human mind returned to his body. He screamed as his bones finished morphing, his body twisting as it shrank back into the tiny human form. After a moment of laying there panting and nothing happening he rolled onto his back, pushing himself into a sitting position to survey the damage.

Not too bad, he thought weakly as he saw his legs torn to shreds, blood glistening, muscles exposed. However his torso only had a few shallow scratches and his arms were relatively untouched except for a partial bite on his left forearm.

His legs, though, burned with pain and he wanted to sob. Can I walk? He wished he had torn up his arms instead. He hated not being able to walk.

Gritting his teeth he pulled himself to the blood-soaked couch whose middle cushion was ripped to fluffy shreds. Damn stupid wolf, he grumbled as he slowly got to his feet. His legs protested immediately and he came down onto the sofa with a crash. Damn. Either he'd have to crawl/pull himself to the lavatory or else he'd have to wait there. Not wanting to drag his ruined, opened legs along the floor, he opted to grab one of the blankets to cover himself until Pomfrey showed up.

Blood soaked into the couch and the blanket as he waited, though the blanket already had a lot of bloodstains already. He fiddled with a corner, wondering if he should bring it back to see if the house-elves could get the stains out—but what was the point? It'd get all bloody again before long.

"Shit," he hissed as a searing pain rippled through his legs. A few tears slid out and he wished there was a clock somewhere so he could see what time it was. The sun rose at around 6:30 this time of the year. He figured Pomfrey would be there by sevenish. Usually she was there within half an hour.

I should prove I can take care of myself, he realized. Was he going to sit around and wait till he was seventeen before being alone? No. He needed to show them he could be responsible.

"Shit!" he swore again as he got to his feet. His legs hurt so bad. Blood trickled down the skin that wasn't ravaged and with each step it felt like his legs would fall apart. He staggered to the bathroom where he filled the tub with a few inches of water; soon he was cleaning his legs off with some of the flannels. Whenever the fabric touched a wound he let out a yelp of pain.

Once his legs were relatively clean he dried them off as best he could then began wrapping them with bandages. He was just finishing up one leg when he heard Pomfrey in the tunnel, and was starting on the second when she came into the bathroom.

"G-good morning," he whispered, carefully wrapping his calf.

Pomfrey eyed the bandages. "You'll need to take them off so I can see the damage…"

"I know." He continued wrapping his right leg. "We can do that at the hospital wing, right?"

She let out a sigh. "Yes…"

She gave him pajamas to change into and then they left, Remus leaning against her without protest to hobble along. He hated being seen as so weak and pathetic, but was very determined to be able to be alone by his fourth year. He was going to do everything he could do to succeed with that plan.

At the hospital wing he took his bottoms off for Pomfrey to unwrap his legs. She put potions on them even though his lycanthropic ability healed everything anyway, and wrapped them in clean bandages. She wrapped the bite on his arm and put some plasters on some of the deeper scratches on his chest, though most were already beginning to heal.

By this point Remus was dizzy with both exhaustion and blood loss. His stomach hurt so much from the pain that he couldn't drink any of the special milkshake Pomfrey gave him. There were usually potions in the shake to encourage blood replenishment, as well as calorie potions. He managed a couple of gulps before curling up, wrapping an arm around his middle as he drifted into sleep.

-x-

Most of the wounds were healed by the time Remus returned to the house in Hogsmeade. His legs were covered in scars; some looking old already, most still fresh. When he stretched out on the bloodied couch he ran his finger along one of the zigzagging scars, wondering what it would be like to live with all the evidence of his ravaging. He wouldn't have an eye anymore, for one, or a pinky, or probably other body parts. He'd probably be as falling apart as Kettleburn, if not worse!

As if to prove a point, he came to the next day with his face completely disfigured. It had been a rough night anyway, with rain preventing him from transforming until what he thought was around two in the morning. Then the clouds parted enough for him to change for a couple of hours, then went back to human around an hour before sunrise.

He lay in agony for an hour and a half. He wanted to rip his face off—well, he supposed he had tried to in the night. After passing out from pain and waking up again he was able to get to the bathroom, staring bleakly at his horrifying reflection. Claw marks covered his whole face. Part of his nose was torn apart. A chunk of his lip was gone.

He passed out again, this time waking up to Pomfrey's cool hands carefully treating his face. He tried to speak, the words too difficult to get out. His tongue felt kinda numb.

"Shh," she whispered, stroking his hair. "You're all right, you're going to be okay."

The trip back to the castle was a blur, and before he knew it he was asleep again, this time with dreamless sleep potion and pain relief potion in him.

-x-

Remus was considering telling Pomfrey that the Marauders knew the truth. He could hear them in the main part of the hospital wing. Apparently, they had gotten into a duel with some Slytherins and it sounded like something happened to Sirius and Peter. He slithered out of bed, pressing his ear against the door to try to listen in but he couldn't really make out much information.

Hearing their voices hurt, making him miss them desperately. He crawled back into bed, knowing even if he had said he was the ill one this month they wouldn't be able to visit since his face was covered in bandages and plasters. Talking—or trying to talk—still caused pain since his lip was still torn.

If Pomfrey knew they knew they could be here. He lay in bed, fingers curling and uncurling, wishing he had a hand to hold. And if Pomfrey knew they knew she'd tell Dumbledore and he'd erase their memories.

Wouldn't he?

He certainly threatened it before, yet at the end of Remus's second year Dumbledore hinted he might know. The Marauders had let off fireworks near the house in Hogsmeade during the evening of one of the full moons (the Marauders doing this to basically send messages of cheer to Remus), and Dumbledore questioned Remus about it. Maybe he did know. It was Dumbledore. He knew so much. Yet… if he knew then why allow the Marauders to continue to know? Was there any point in trying to figure out what Dumbledore was thinking?

Groaning, Remus pulled the blankets up, trying to fall back asleep. Sleep was good. He didn't hurt when he was asleep.

-x-

The last night of this moon's stretch was spent entirely human. He heard the wind howling outside, rain lashing against the boarded up windows. He started the fireplace and curled up in Peter's blanket, shivering as close to the flames as he could get. At some point he heard thunder rolling in, getting louder and louder until he was sure it was right over the house. There was a loud cracking sound and Remus bolted upright, terrified the house had been hit. Images of the walls splitting open filled his head. No. That was stupid. Of course the lightning hadn't hit the house, or if it did it didn't break apart the walls.

He rubbed his eyes before wrapping his arms around his knees, staring into the dancing flames, wishing he had a radio or something to listen to on nights like this so he didn't feel so bloody alone. He did manage to drift into sleep and had nightmares of the house being split apart then the storm ending, him turning into a werewolf, jumping out of the rift, and going on a rampage around Hogsmeade.

He woke up with a scream just as he saw himself ripping into Finch & Wild Games And Wonders and pouncing on May Finch. He shuddered, staggering to his feet in order to look down at his own bare body to double-triple-quadruple make sure he was, in fact, still human.

"Ugh." He began pacing, hands pressed against the sides of his head, listening to the rain. Eventually he settled back down into more nightmare-riddled sleep, which was how the rest of the night went. Nightmares, so many nightmares. He woke up with screams multiple times and at one point woke up with cheeks damp from tears.

The storm faded into a light rain, and by the time Pomfrey came after sunrise it was done. Remus was dressed and waiting when she showed up. His entire body ached, his bones feeling like they weighed about a million pounds as he trudged along behind the nurse.

"Are you going to class?" she asked as they went down the underground passage.

"I—" What day was it? He blinked a few times, trying to remember. Friday. It was Friday. He'd have Potions in about an hour followed by History. Oof. He seriously doubted he'd be able to get through History, and besides his uniform was a little yucky. "Not morning classes, I don't think." He should make himself. It was contemptible to simply give up because he was tired. "No, yes, I—I'm going to go to—to—" Except he didn't have the books needed for Friday's lessons. He didn't have his Potions kit. He'd have to get food, get back to the dorm, get changed, pack his satchel with what was needed, and get back down to the dungeons all within an hour while his bones fought against him.

"Hmm?" Pomfrey opened the entrance and they climbed out onto Hogwarts' grounds.

Remus stared up at the castle, up at the Gryffindor tower. So many flights of stairs between here and there. He'd have to run. He wouldn't be able to eat breakfast at all, and he was starving. And ready to drop.

He debated silently the entire trip across the grounds, wanting nothing more than to get into his hospital bed and go to sleep, as well as determined not to let his curse ruin more of his life than it already did.

In the hospital wing, he gave his armpit a quick sniff. His uniform wasn't too terrible; the sweat from Tuesday had staled a bit but otherwise… I could maybe get away with it, he decided, eating the breakfast Pomfrey brought him. He could borrow things for Potions and History, and get everything else during the free period.

He regretted this decision before he even made it to the dungeons. He fought to keep his eyes open even as he walked, and at one point ran right into a statue. Nearby Slytherins snickered.

"Remus!"

He reached the stairwell to the dungeons at the same time as the Marauders. He peered blurrily at them, giving a faint smile when all three of them jogged over to give him hugs.

"You look exhausted," Sirius whispered in his ear.

"I am. I probably made a monumental mistake coming to class but too late now," he yawned. "Hopefully either we partner up or I don't need anything since I didn't have time to get my things."

They were partnered up, and Sirius did almost all the work while Remus struggled to stay awake. He kept seeing double. Since it was a potion that needed to sit for a week, Remus promised to help more next Friday. History was even worse than Potions, and Remus did fall asleep. He slept through almost the entire class, thanking Merlin when he woke up that Lily took plenty of notes.

"How is your mother doing?" Lily asked after class when Remus asked her for copies of her notes.

"Mostly better," he mumbled. "Er, last night was really bad. That's why I didn't get much sleep. But she took a turn for the better in the middle of the night and is doing loads better."

Lily stared at him and he wondered if he said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry it was so bad," she finally said as she handed him her notes. "I'm really glad to hear she's better. Oh, and I'm sorry about Tolkien, too."

Remus frowned as he put her notes away. "What? What do you mean?"

"I—I thought you were a big fan of his, weren't you?" she asked.

Remus didn't like the way she said that. "I am," he said slowly. "What do you mean you're sorry?"

Lily gave him a sympathetic look. "I figured you heard already, being back home. You don't get Muggle news?" He shook his head, feeling his stomach spinning wildly out of control. "He passed away at the beginning of the month. Mum told me in her letter. I assumed you knew. I'm sorry."

Remus stared wide-eyed at her, unable to believe his ears. "J. R. R. Tolkien?" he said, very stupidly as if there was another Tolkien he was a big fan of.

"Yes. I could ask Mum to send me a copy of the obituary if you'd like," Lily offered.

Tolkien? J. R. R. Tolkien? Dead? Hobbit? Lord of the Rings? Dead? "Th-th-thank you for t-telling me," he managed to get out. "I—I had no idea."

"I'm sorry," she said yet again, shouldering her satchel. "I shouldn't have said—"

"No. Um. No, I—thank you. I'll s-see you in Defense." He managed a shaky smile as he turned to go back to the Marauders. They knew something was up and asked him, and he simply shook his head, insisting it was nothing. He didn't want them to know how shaken up he was—how distraught he was over one of his favorite authors passing away. Was it normal to feel this way about someone you never met? About someone whose works you admired?

The beginning of the month, Remus thought, wishing he had asked which day. Did it matter?

A great balloon of pain inflated in his chest and he felt his nose burning as tears began to form. No! He couldn't cry in front of everyone! Though they did have a free period now.

"Erm, I—I'm going to go take a nap, I think," he said, knowing they wouldn't think twice about that. "No," he added when Peter asked if he wanted them to go with him. "I'm just going to rest a bit. I'll see you in Defense." He hurried off without another word, the tears spilling out before he even reached the stairwell.

He collapsed down shortly after reaching the next floor, getting to a stone bench in a nook before yanking up the hem of his sleeveless vest to cry into. He didn't care if it wasn't normal—he didn't think he could stop himself anyway. He might not have known Tolkien as a person but he knew his works. His talent. His imagination. He felt the loss deeply.

"Uh, hey, kid, you all right?"

Remus shook his head, not looking up, choking a little on his tears.

"Hey, it's all right. I know Hogwarts can be overwhelming." Whoever it was sat down next to him. "Are you homesick? I got homesick my first week, but my friend got homesick—"

Remus looked up at the Slytherin. They looked to be a fifth or sixth year, and he couldn't really tell if they were a boy or a girl, honestly, let alone know who they were. "I—I'm a th-third year," he stammered out.

The Slytherin went pure white. "Oh shit. I'm so sorry, kid, I—you—you're so small I thought—" Remus wiped the tears and snot from his face. "Bloody hell. I'm sorry."

"It's all r-r-right, I'm not—I kn-n-n-know I'm…" He trailed off as more tears dripped down onto his clothes.

The Slytherin frowned. "Want to talk about it?"

"It's st-stu-stupid."

"If you're crying about it, it's not—oh, wait, you're Loopy, aren't you?" Remus stared blankly at them. They immediately grimaced. "I'm putting my foot into it big time."

"S'f-f-fine." He wiped his face again, wishing the tears would stop. "It is st-stupid though, it—some—someone—a—wr-writer I l-liked passed away."

"Oh." They sat back, narrowing their eyes. "That's not stupid. Er, do you mind me asking who it was? I don't think I've heard of any authors passing recently."

"M-Muggle," Remus admitted, feeling very awkward, hoping that this Slytherin wasn't the purist type.

There was a flash of surprise in their eyes but then they shrugged. "That explains why I haven't heard anything. Er. Look, it's all right to be sad if someone famous passes away, if that's what you're worried about." It was exactly what Remus was worried about, and he was torn between feeling grateful to be told this and a little weirded out they guessed so easily. Or was it obvious? "I cried when my favorite Quidditch player retired."

Remus smiled a little at that, going back to wiping his face again. He appreciated this stranger offering up their time to try to comfort him. "Th-thank you. I—I g-guess m-m-maybe it isn't st-stupid."

"It's not," they said, giving Remus an encouraging smile. "Especially if it's someone you admired."

Remus looked down at his lap, not sure what to say to that. It felt weird to say he admired someone he hardly knew. "Thank-k you," he got out again. "I—" He wasn't sure how best to extract himself from the moment. It seemed wrong to just say thank you and leave, however he was getting really hot and itchy at being around someone he didn't know and having a conversation with them, even if they were being very kind. He was still worn down from the moon and all the emotions and he really did want to lie down. "Wh-what's your n-name?"

The Slytherin looked startled at that but then they smiled. "Phoenix Parkinson."

Parkinson. One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Usually the Slytherin ones were purists, but this one seemed very nice, and had taken the time to comfort a young Gryffindor crying about a Muggle author.

"I g-g-guess you already know wh-who I am," he stammered, wiping his face on his sleeves once more.

"Loop—er, Lupin," Parkinson said, giving Remus an apologetic smile. Then as if sensing Remus needed to be alone, they stood up. "I hope you feel better soon, Lupin."

"Thank you ag-gain," Remus said. "I r-r-really appreciate it."

Parkinson nodded and left, hands in their pockets as they strolled down the corridor, whistling one of the more popular wizarding songs on the rise. Can't imagine what Sirius would say if I told him a Slytherin Twenty-Eight comforted me, he thought, a little amused at picturing the look on Sirius's face. Then the reason why he had needed comforting returned and he felt more tears threatening to spill out.

Sniffling, he got to his feet and managed to get to his dorm before breaking down into more tears.

-x-

Remus missed Defense Against the Dark Arts. He knew this by the looks on his friends' faces when they woke him up. They didn't even need to say anything, and he gave a slight cry of distress. Sure enough, it was five till noon; he had slept right through class!

"Shit!" He swung his legs out of bed, about to ask why they hadn't woken him up sooner before he stopped himself. He wasn't their responsibility. They weren't even in the dorm when he had gone to sleep.

"It's fine," Sirius said.

"It's not!" Remus rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up. "I made it to Potions and History—"

"Which you slept through," Peter pointed out.

Remus shot him a look, but knew it was pointless to keep complaining. Sighing, he grabbed his bag and left with them, still exhausted even with the nearly two hour nap. All he could really think about was going back to bed as soon as his final class was over.

On the third floor he hesitated, then told the others to go on without him; he'd meet them in the Great Hall. Before they could question him he took off down the hall, going as quickly as he could to the Defense classroom, hoping Professor Charlemagne was still there. The door was slightly ajar and he could hear quiet talking, in French. He paused, not sure whether to interrupt or not. He soon realized the other voice belonged to Jean-Marie, so he took a seat across the hall to wait.

Five minutes later the door opened all the way and both Charlemagnes stepped out. Jean-Marie raised his thick eyebrows, a smile appearing on his face. "Good morning, Remus," he said. "It is good to know that your mother is better."

"G-good morning. Er, and thank you." Remus got back to his feet, shifting his gaze to the elder Charlemagne. "Erm, Professor, may I have a—a word?"

"Of course," Professor Charlemagne said, stepping back so Remus could go into the classroom. "I'll see you later," he told Jean-Marie before shutting the door.

Remus took in a deep breath, feeling his face growing hot. Professor Prewett had always been very kind about these sorts of things but Dedenne had been awful. Even though Charlemagne said those things a couple of weeks ago, Remus couldn't help but be afraid that he'd be yelled at. "I'm s-s-s-sorry for missing c-c-class."

Charlemagne pursed his lips. "Considering what time of the month it is, I was not expecting to see you."

Remus swallowed, pressing his free hand against his thigh. "I—I made it to the other m-morning classes. I fell asleep during free per—period. I… I meant to come to class. I'm sorry." He didn't want to say he had been distraught over Tolkien's passing, and suspected his crying had been what really tipped him over into sleep.

Charlemagne studied him for a few seconds before shaking his head. "I do not know much about your condition, however I imagine you are in need of sleep. You look like you need more sleep. It is fine, Mr. Lupin. Please do not worry. Besides." Charlemagne gave him a broad smile. "We had a very busy lesson and in your state it might have been too much, no? Rest is good. Rest is healing. We all need to be in a good… frame of mind for learning. Our bodies can put us through difficulties and we must do what we can to keep ourselves going. Especially one who goes through difficulties like you do."

Remus opened and closed his mouth, not sure what to say to all of this. "Er. Yes, I—I agree with that—"

"Merveilleux!" Charlemagne clapped his hands once. Wonderful. "I also believe a good meal is important for the mind to learn too. Let us go." He reached out very briefly before giving the faintest of flinches and drawing his hand back; Remus suspected Charlemagne intended to clasp his shoulder or something like that, and stopped due to the lycanthropy. Hurt flared in Remus's stomach which he tamped down. "I am certain your friends will have some notes for today's lesson; we were working on smokescreen spells. Most of it was merely practicing the spell."

As they walked to the Great Hall, Remus pondered over the professor's words. Like the first time they talked, it felt like there was something underneath everything Charlemagne was saying. Maybe it was because Charlemagne's native tongue wasn't English that made his words seem like they meant more than they did?

Or maybe it was simply Remus's imagination.

Either way, at least Charlemagne didn't seem angry that he had missed class!