I'm a ghost.

Remus gazed blankly into his Defense Against the Dark Arts book, blinking slowly.

Just a withered old ghost whose body is still here, for some unfathomable reason.

He was alone in the Common Room. Sunlight seeped through the windows, warmed the back of his neck, made him sleepy.

Whom should I haunt?

A vision of Lily's face shattered his morbid thoughts, and he tried to remove it by shutting his eyes. Her face burned, if anything, more brightly behind his eyelids.

You deserve a better ghost than me, love. But I'll kiss you in your sleep, if that's what you want. Give you all the nightmares you desire.

He kept his eyes closed. The only sound he could hear was his breath hitting the page in front of him.

Oops, still breathing. Must not be dead yet.

He heard a scraping sound and opened his eyes. As if on cue, Lily stepped through the portrait hole. Remus felt himself lowering his book to his lap. He stared at her, too weary to pretend to be immersed in his studies this time. He had no energy to consider the thumping of his heartbeat; his entire being was consumed by staring at the girl across the room, the girl he hadn't been alone with in two weeks, the girl he couldn't be alone with at all. She gazed back, ran a hand self-consciously through her windblown hair. Shifted to one foot, then the other. Waiting, perhaps. Perhaps. He thought he could smell the freshness of the outdoors, as if she had brought it in with her. He wouldn't have been surprised if she had.

Remus felt the specter of a smile slide up one side of his face. Lily smiled briefly and lowered her gaze to her shoes, hugging her books to her chest. She crossed the room to the girls' staircase. Without shame, he watched her every move, drinking her in, feeling alive for the first time today. She disappeared into the darkness of the stairwell. The moment she was gone, a sudden wave of sleepiness overtook him again and he dropped his head back on the rear of the couch. His drooping eyes were half crossed as he stared at the wrought iron candelabra above, watched it blurring itself into a blackened soup.

Gone again. Dead again.

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"You've been moping around for weeks," James pronounced. "We are going into Hogsmeade tonight, like it or not."

The friends had joined Remus in the Common Room and now reclined on couches and chairs, each pretending to do homework. Remus stared dazedly at the same page he had tried read an hour ago. All he wanted to do the past few weeks was sleep. Sleep seemed a good way to occupy his time and keep his thoughts from straying to Lily. Strangely, he had been sleeping very soundly, even during the last few nights, the nights leading up to tonight's full moon. It was early afternoon now; even so, he thought he could fall asleep right now, if he let himself. He wondered vaguely if he was depressed.

Remus sighed. "There's no 'like' about it, Prongs. I won't remember it, remember? Hogsmeade is for you chaps, not me. You can herd me there if you like, but don't think it'll make me happy. It makes no difference where I am."

"Sod off, you old pisser." Sirius dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Speaking of which, why don't we all get drunk first?"

Peter piped up, looking alarmed. "We tried that once, last year. Remus nearly sliced your arm off. Could have done if James hadn't kicked him away."

"Oh. Was I that drunk?" asked Sirius, his eyebrows knitted. "Why would I not remember that?"

"You were pickled," Peter explained. "Drunken werewolf plus even drunker dog equals one bad idea. I tried to tell you."

"Doubtful, but all right. If you say so."

"So why the long face, Moony?" James prodded. Suddenly his face lit up and he grinned. "Are you in love?"

"Aha!" Sirius said, leaping up from his horizontal position to thrust a finger in Remus's face. "That's it!"

Remus's heart thudded limply, trying to exert some of its old fervor, but he would have none of it. "Look, fellows," he droned, lazily pushing Sirius's finger away. "I'm going upstairs. I'll never make it tomorrow if I don't sneak a nap now."

James furrowed his brow. "You all right, mate?"

Other than pining away for the only woman I'll ever love in my entire worthless life? Remus worked up a half-smile. "Yeah, fine. Just need to close my eyes for a minute."

"You are so boring it astounds me. I'm going to write a book about you and fill in all the missing juicy parts," Sirius stated.

"Knock yourself out," Remus muttered, shuffling to the tower steps.

"Meet you at the Willow thirty minutes before moonrise," James said. "We'll walk to Hogsmeade and transform there." Remus nodded. They no longer had to relate specific times to one another; everything was in terms of when the full moon would appear. It was understood.

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When Remus awoke, it was fifteen minutes before moonrise. How had he overslept? He shot out of bed and stepped into his shoes, immediately throwing open his trunk and glancing at the Marauder's Map to make certain no one was near the Whomping Willow or on the road to Hogsmeade. At this point, they might not have time to make it all the way there. He slammed the trunk shut, leaving the map where it was. Forgetting his cloak, he ran downstairs. No one was in the Common Room. He tore through the castle and rushed outside.

His friends were not at the Whomping Willow yet. If they didn't show up, he would enter the Willow and go to the Shrieking Shack alone. But they had never stood him up since they had become Animagi. They were always with him during the full moon.

Minutes passed. Daylight began to fade. Finally he conceded that he would have to use the Shrieking Shack tonight. He found a long stick and prodded the knot that would open the tree near its roots and let him in. He automatically stepped toward the tree; but the opening did not appear and the tree swiped at him, nearly knocking him flat. He leapt out of the way and staggered back a few steps.

Remus frantically prodded the knot again with the branch, but the Whomping Willow kept swinging at him. He dodged another large, knuckle-shaped branch and stood helplessly on the grass, breathing hard. He had, of course, left his wand in the bed tower; he wished now he had it with him, although what spell could possibly help him he had no idea. He couldn't Apparate from here to the Shrieking Shack; Apparating was impossible on Hogwarts grounds. There wasn't enough time to run there, and he had no broomstick nearby.

What had happened? What sort of magic could undo Dumbledore's charms on the tree? Where were his friends? They could have circled him during the transformation, as they often did, then traveled with him into Hogsmeade. He knew he couldn't pass the night in the Forbidden Forest – Hagrid would be there all evening, still tending to the recovering unicorn. And there were too many people in Hogsmeade to risk going there without his friends to keep him in line, even if he had time to get there.

The sky was growing indigo, and his brain raced. He had to slow his thoughts, collect himself. There had to be a way. If only there were another safe place, a place like the Shrieking Shack, where no one could get inside. He turned toward the school and stared at its massive figure hulking like a hunchbacked beast in the growing twilight. The Room of Requirement, he remembered. That was his only hope, and he had to get there quickly. He bolted full-speed toward the front gates.

Remus's heart shuddered as he spotted an all-too familiar figure sauntering down the hill toward him with a book bag slung over her shoulder, her copper hair shimmering in the last of the day's golden light: Lily. Gods, not now. Let me be a ghost, let me be invisible. He tore past her, glimpsing confusion and worry on her face as he pitched himself up the hill.

"Remus, what's wrong?" she called.

Remus didn't respond; but soon he heard he running after him, calling his name, her book bag knocking rhythmically against her hip, hopefully slowing her down.

"It's nothing! Stay away!" he shouted, still running pell-mell, his mind focused on his destination.

Now he was through the gates, running past staring and harrumphing portraits, darting around students, leaping up shifting staircases. He only had minutes, he was sure, to reach the hallway where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy hung. He nearly knocked into a small boy cutting around a corner, but he managed to dodge him so that the boy only dropped his books with a cry of indignation. Remus ran on; the hallways had never before seemed so long, his legs so slow.

At last he reached the tapestry on the seventh floor; thankfully, no one was in the hall. He paced three times, as he had seen James do last year when he was looking for more books containing unusual hexes and curses to use on Severus. As he paced, he concentrated on what he desperately needed. Just as the door appeared behind him, he heard footsteps running down the hallway. Remus whirled and saw Lily dashing toward him, cloak flying, the dead weight of her book bag having been discarded somewhere along the way.

"Something's happening. Are you sick? What's wrong?" she demanded, her hands catching his shoulders.

"Lily, get out of here! I can't explain!" Remus warned, pushing her arms away wildly. She flinched but resisted as he tried to shove past her.

The dim, torch-lit hallway seemed to be growing brighter, Lily's face more vivid and defined: it was beginning.

"What's happening to your eyes?" she whispered apprehensively, putting her hands on his chest to keep him from advancing further. Remus felt the familiar fear and rage welling up inside him, harbingers of the change. It was too late. He had to get inside the room and shut Lily out.

"I said GO!" he commanded, taking her wrists in his hands, his voice a dangerous growl that he didn't recognize. He was losing awareness; he had to get away from her. But suddenly he was shoving Lily against the protesting tapestry, pinning her there with his arms, his legs, his body. Without knowing what was happening, or why, he began kissing her roughly, deeply – and he felt her kissing him back with wild abandon, her hands now on his face. She was willing, she was submitting herself to him; and this sharpened in Remus a strange and powerful urge. He ripped the cloak from her neck and it fell to the floor with a rustle. His fingers plowed over her skirt, her blouse, the thin wool and cotton that offered such meager protection from his hands, his mouth, his teeth …

Lily cried out and shoved Remus backward; and he hit the opposite wall with a hard crack, his head rattling against the stone wall. Her white blouse was torn at the collar, and she rubbed the skin where her shoulder met her neck. Cringing against the tapestry, she stared wide-eyed at Remus and slowly raised her wand.

The first spasm wracked his body, and he nearly doubled over. His last fragment of consciousness led him toward the doorway, which he felt centimeters to his right at his fingertips. He leapt through the door and slammed it, hearing dull hammering from the other side as his guttural howl began.

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A/N: Many hits, embarrassingly few reviews! Can someone help me with this problem?

The Greyback storyline is on hold during the next few chapters. I'll leave it to you to figure out which subplot I'll be focusing on …