a/n: Two fics in one night? Who let me have the inspiration? Anyway I'm sorry in advance because this is sad.

Remus never thought it would come to this. Alone, locked in a cage, waiting for the full moon to turn him so he could tear himself apart.

Well, that was a lie. In his childhood, he had believed that this was his only possible future. He saw no way out, no way that anyone would see him as anything other than a monster. He expected to grow old alone or die young, the victim of those who saw werewolves as creatures rather than people. He'd wanted that, almost, he'd never wanted to hope that his life could be anything better. And at first, he'd never had reason to.

But then he'd gone to Hogwarts. Dumbledore came to his house and told him that he was allowed, that being a werewolf only meant that he had to be more careful and not that he was banned. He could learn magic. And he'd let himself hope, but only a little because he expected to be found out and kicked out immediately.

But then he hadn't been. Instead, he was allowed to stay. And not only stay, but he'd made friends who liked him for who he was, and who didn't care about his condition once they found out. They made jokes about it, and helped him to realize that he was more than just a werewolf. They saved his life, in more ways than one. His little spark of hope grew with every day he spent with them and every secret shared. He tried to imagine life without them and he couldn't.

But now he had to. James was dead, nearly two weeks ago now and Merlin, what he would give for it to all be a terrible dream. Remus could still see him playing with that stupid snitch, messing with his hair, fighting Death Eaters and coming out with barely a scratch. James couldn't be dead, not James Potter.

James who, what felt like yesterday, had been apologizing for choosing Sirius to be godfather, who had told Remus and Peter that they would be next. James who spent years trying to woo Lily, then years trying to be good enough for her. James who turned his focus from pranks to war so easily, James who always took notes for Remus when he missed class because of his condition. James who had always been so full of life, who had never let Remus believe for a second that he was less than human. James who was barely married when he died, James who was a new father.

Remus tried not to think about baby Harry, who he would probably never see again. Dumbledore refused to reveal his location to anyone, and even though Remus was like his uncle, he was a werewolf and wasn't allowed to see the baby that was all that was left of the Marauders.

The Marauders, a name that caused him pain beyond anything he'd ever felt. Merlin how he wished they were still in school, working on that godforsaken map, their biggest worry the best way to prank the Slytherins without McGonagall finding out. His three friends, risking everything to secretly become Animagi so they could be with him during his transformations. He owed them so much that he could never repay. Even after school, at least one of them always managed to stay with him, and they made the moon so much more bearable. He wondered whether he would ever have friends again. The only people who had ever cared for him were gone, torn apart by a war they were far too young for.

They had to pick sides, and some of them had picked the wrong one.

He remembered one of the Slytherins saying something similar to Sirius when he defended Lily, claiming that he was a blood traitor and a disgrace to the Blacks. Sirius had laughed, and Remus found himself doing the same. The tables had turned, it seemed. He still couldn't believe what Sirius had done. He truly trusted Sirius, and there hadn't been any signs to even hint that he had turned on them. Everyone was right when they said not to trust a Black, it seemed.

Still, he couldn't help but think of better days, when Sirius defended his shabby clothes or spent hours talking about Quidditch, his eyes sparkling. Remus remembered how he switched to his dog form whenever any of them were sad and how he'd had all of their backs, whenever they needed him. He remembered Sirius buying that ridiculous motorbike and enchanting it to fly. He remembered Sirius promising that Remus would never be alone, and how he had done his best to keep it that way. Sirius had been the one who came to the most full moons after Hogwarts. Remus could count on one hand how many he'd missed in those years, even with the war and everything else going on. Sirius had always been there for him.

Sirius, who was now in Azkaban for betraying James and Lily and murdering Peter and thirteen muggles. Sirius, who had seemed so happy the day they joined the Order. Sirius, who had been his best friend but had kept secrets from him. Sirius, who lied and tried to help Voldemort win the war.

The war, how he hated it. He was glad it had ended, of course, but the cost was too much. It had torn his friends apart and left him here, alone in this cage.

Countless times over the past two weeks, he'd thought of a prank idea that he wanted to owl Sirius about, and then he'd remembered that he couldn't. He went to Diagon
Alley, once, to see how it'd recovered and to pick up some pain potions, and he'd seen something that would have been perfect for Harry, a little stag plushie, and he could almost see Lily and James and he turned to tell them about it, but they weren't there, because he was alone. He bought some chocolate, too, and remembered how he and Peter had shared a secret stash at Hogwarts and he thought about sending him some, for old time's sake, but then he remembered.

Peter was dead. Sirius killed Peter and laughed about it. Peter knew he was outmatched by Sirius, and Remus couldn't fathom why Peter hadn't come to him for help. He supposed he may have been moving too quickly, trying to catch Sirius before he did more damage, and perhaps Remus wouldn't have changed anything anyway. But if this was how it ended, Remus almost wished he had died with Peter.

Remus remembered helping Peter with his homework, he remembered Peter's rat form being the catalyst for so many pranks, he remembered listening to the other boy snore every night for seven years. He remembered his name next to Peter's on the map, his seat next to Peter's in the Great Hall, his wand next to Peter's when they joined the Order. He remembered Peter, not the best in magic but kind and understanding always because he knew what it was like to not be well-liked. Peter who had, like Remus, found friends in the Marauders when he needed them the most. Peter who was dead because he'd made friends with the wrong person when he was eleven.

Remus wondered whether it all would have been different if the four of them had been in different houses, or different years. He wondered if there was a universe where no one was betrayed, where they were truly a family. But it was useless to wonder, now, when it was all over.

His mind ran over the countless others that had been lost to Voldemort's forces, and he tried his best not to think about how few of his classmates were left.

Then a sliver of moonlight slipped through the crack in the window of his basement and he wasn't thinking of anything but the pain as his bones shifted and rearranged themselves, forcing him into the horrific shape of the werewolf he was. A werewolf who was alone, just like he always knew he would be.