"I still can't believe that devil of a woman," my mother said, changing the bandage on my hand, because my own handy work hadn't been good enough. "Throwing you out onto the street, after all you've been through! How horrible!"

"She couldn't just let me stay there for free," I said. "She has to support herself, you know."

"She could have at least given you some time to get the money together," my father said from behind his three day old newspaper.

"Even if she did, I wouldn't have been able to," I said. "You know how difficult it is for me to find paid work."

"I know," he said, sounding a bit agitated. "I was merely suggesting that-"

"You two stop it," Mum scolded, shooting her husband a dirty glare before she looked at me warmly. "Remus, you can stay with us as long as you need to."

"Thank you, Mother. I really appreciate it," I said, though in my mind I was struggling to think of a way to get out of staying with my parents for too long. They hardly had enough money to take care of themselves, and I had put them through enough trouble during my youth. They were both starting to get so old; my father's hair had thinned significantly since the last time I had seen them, and my mother's now consisted of more gray strands than black.

They couldn't afford to keep me for too long, anyway. My parents were living on my father's dwindling pension from his Auror days and the small wage my mother brought home from her job at a muggle children's library. The old Lupin house – which the lineage had occupied for centuries – was falling into disrepair and I was positive that neither of them had purchased a new change of clothes since my childhood.

"Tomorrow, I'll make your favorite dinner," she declared as she packed up her first aid kit. "Roast beef and potatoes."

"Imogen," my father said, looking at her over the edge of the paper. "His favorite food was always roast chicken, wasn't it?"

"I think I would remember my only son's favorite meal, John," she said, sounding quite agitated. "When he would return from Hogwarts in the summer time, he would always demand I make roast beef for him."

As always, Dad didn't notice her mood change. "I'm almost positive Remus prefers chicken, my love."

Having been part of the Lupin family for a long twenty years, I knew better than to attempt to stop their bickering. John and Imogen squabbled over everything, and it never did any good to get in between them. Besides, my favorite food had always been chocolate…

"I think I'm going to my room," I said, slowly getting up from my chair.

"Are you sleepy already?" my mother asked.

"It isn't even nine o'clock," my father pointed out. "I had hoped we could all play some card games this evening…"

"Maybe tomorrow," I said, yawning with a slight twinge of guilt. "Moving was sort of stressful, and I would like to do a bit of reading before I actually go to sleep."

"Oh, alright," he said. "Tomorrow for sure, then."

"You don't have to entertain me," I told him. "I don't want to be any trouble."

"But we want to spend time with you, Remus," she said, placing her gentle hand on my shoulder. "We're so happy to have you home again…"

"Goodnight, Mum," I said, managing to squeeze out some sort of smile before I made my exit, nodding at my dad on the way out.

I felt so out of place in my old room. My bed – which was still decorated with the same baby blue sheets I had used as a child – was far too short, and I knew I would end up falling out of it several times throughout the course of the night if I didn't transfigure it into something bigger. Faded crayon doodles from my childhood could still be seen, too sentimental for my mother to wash away even after I had grown and moved away.

Another thing that hadn't changed, I realized once I had changed into my pajamas, was the books on the shelf. I felt a wave of nostalgia wash over me as I skimmed the titles my fifteen year old self had been so fond of, and for once I was happy that my parents hadn't meddled with the things I had left behind.

"Now that I think about it," I said to myself. "I haven't really lived in this house since I started going to Hogwarts. And once I turned fifteen…"

Once I turned fifteen, it was far more enjoyable to spend the summer months with Peter, James, and Sirius, I thought, grabbing an old book of poems from the shelf. Once they became Animagi and started accompanying me during my transformations, going through them alone was so miserable…

"There's a full moon at the end of this week," I reminded myself somberly, opening up the book.

T'was brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!

I shut the book, muttering a few curses under my breath. I could never read past the second stanza; when I pictured the Bandersnatch, it always looked like a werewolf to me.

The image refused to leave my head for the next several days, and the stress of my impending transformation did nothing to help the already tense mood in the house. Towards the end of my cycle, I would typically become more and more irritable, and my urges and emotions became difficult to control. I would grow tired, no matter how many hours of sleep I accumulated. On the day of the full moon, a werewolf's eyes become extremely sensitive to light, to a point where going outside on a sunny day is extremely painful. My appetite decreased considerably, and – often to my profound embarrassment – my libido increased exponentially.

During this time period, I prefer to be alone. However, my mother had other ideas. I was lucky if I got five minutes to myself. There was always some chore around the house she wanted assistance with, or some errand she wanted me to accompany her on.

At least keeping busy made avoiding my father easier. Perhaps he was avoiding me, as well. The two of us had a complicated relationship; most of the time it was easier not to say anything to him. Though he constantly denied it, I knew that he couldn't stand the sight of me. He had lost his job as an Auror because of my lycanthropy, and driven himself into poverty searching for a cure.

During my school days, special accommodations had been made for me, so I could undergo my monthly transformation far from other human beings. Now that I was an adult, I had to make my own accommodations. It had taken me a few months to figure out a good arrangement (thank goodness James, Peter and Sirius had been able to assist me; who knows what might have happened…) Eventually I was able to find a secluded area where my inner wolf could run wild, without the constant worry of running into some poor, unsuspecting person. There was still some risk – there always was – but my options were extremely limited.

As the sun began its decent, I bid my parents goodnight and retreated to my bedroom. I could hear my mother sobbing and my father awkwardly consoling her as I removed my clothes. My werewolf body was a bit larger than my human one, and would easily tear through my clothing if I didn't remove it in time.

I wanted so badly to tell my mother that I would be okay, but I knew if I delayed my trip any longer, I might not get out of the house in time. With a heavy sigh, I closed my eyes and pictured the countryside where I would be spending the night. I heard a loud crack, and felt the familiar rush of Apparition. When I opened my eyes, the sun had disappeared, leaving behind just a few minutes of light. Those last few minutes were always the worst. Aside from the actual transformation, that is.

When the full moon appears in the sky, a werewolf can feel it. It's like a cold chill running up and down your spine, a chill that refuses to go away. That disgusting orb somehow attracts all your attention, and your sanity.

I watched it for what felt like years, the other sounds around me vanishing almost completely. In those moments, the moon seems to be the only thing that matters – the only thing that exists.

Then, the pain begins.

I let out a low, hollow growl as the bones in my body began to break, reforming into their new shape. Every hair follicle on my body burned as my hair grew rapidly. The sudden amplification of my senses was always a shock; the smell of those rabbits hiding in a nearby bush was so tempting…

My mind is always the last thing that changes, and in some ways that is the most painful part. Once my body completes the transformation, I lose everything that makes me me; memories, opinions, ideas… Gone. All that's left is basic animal instinct, and a strong yearning for raw flesh of any kind.

For me at least, some nights as a werewolf are more memorable than others. There are some nights where I can recall every detail, and there are others where I wake up and have no memory at all.

The next morning, when I came to, I found that this was an instant where I had few memories of what I had done as a werewolf. I awoke suddenly, finding myself tangled in some kind of bush, the sun just beginning to crawl over the horizon. The morning dew had soaked my bare skin, and the branches drew blood as I struggled to free myself from the growth. Tuffs of gray fur were scattered about, and the taste of raw meat lingered on my taste buds; I had to fight my compulsion to gag.

When I Apparated back to my parent's house, I chose to arrive in the bathroom. I used nearly half a tube of toothpaste to get that taste out of my mouth, and I showered until the steaming hot water turned lukewarm.

I examined my new wounds as I toweled off. Most of my cuts and scrapes could be explained away by the thorny bush I had slept in, but there were a few bite marks that worried me. When I looked at my face in the mirror, I could see the telltale signs of premature aging along with the more familiar scars of my youth.

You knew this was going to happen, Remus, I thought to myself as I stalked back to my room, my dripping towel wrapped around my waist. Lycanthropy puts a lot of stress on the body; you're lucky you were able to last this long without any age lines. Not that they're of any consequence…

I changed into my suit, noticing a new tear in the sleeve that needed mending.

"Drat," I said, slipping my finger through the torn fabric. "This is my nicer one, too."

"What do you think you're doing?!" I heard my mother holler. "Get out of my house!"

"We're not going anywhere," an unfamiliar voice replied. "Until we get that wolf."

My heart went cold.

"I can't believe you let that thing back in here, Imogen!" another woman said, sounding just as hysterical as my mother had. "Knowing what he could do! Some of us in the village have children-"

"Remus is my child!" she screamed back. "Now get out of my house, or I swear-"

"Now, Imogen," the first voice said, and I heard my mother let out a tiny gasp. "I happen to know you're no dualist, and I don't see that fool husband of yours-"

"Don't you dare call John a fool!" she snarled. "He's twice the wizard you'll ever be!"

"That's enough!" yet another voice declared. "Hand over the bloody werewolf, or we'll kill you first!"

That was it – I couldn't stand at the top of the stairs and listen anymore. Wand in hand, I ran down the staircase as quickly as I could. My joints still ached from my transformation, and it was all I could do to put on a straight face for the attackers.

There were more than I thought, I realized once I got to the bottom. There were at least twenty of them, some of whom I vaguely recognized from my childhood. They filled the entryway, and I could see several more standing outside on the porch. Most of them were armed with wands. Those that weren't carried more primitive weapons, like clubs and pitchforks.

I couldn't help but feel hurt. I knew they had every right to hate me, especially since – as the woman had said – I could easily murder and mutilate their children by accident. But as I looked at their horrified faces, I felt my heart breaking. I knew it was impossible, but I wanted so badly for them to accept me.

"Looks like we don't have to search for him after all," one of the men said. He was several heads shorter than I was, but he had a thick build and a strong, intimidating voice.

"Remus, go back upstairs," my mother hissed at me. "Let me handle this."

"No," I said, tightening my grip on my wand. I glared at the intruders. "I don't care what you do to me, but if you lay a hand on her-"

"How can you come back here?" the hysterical woman in front demanded. "We thought we were done with you!"

"I… I have nowhere else to go," I said simply.

"Well, you better find somewhere else to go," the man said, pointing his wand at me. "Because you sure as hell don't belong here."

"Expellimellius," my mother cried shrilly, and the man's arm quickly caught fire. He screamed with pain, rolling around on the floor in an attempt to put the flame out. Another member of the mob finally doused the fire with some sort of water spell.

Mum gave him a swift kick while he was still down. "Don't you dare touch my son again. If you do, it'll be your face-"

I gulped, "Mother-"

"Imogen," the woman pleaded. "How can you possibly call this monster your son? Please, see reason…"

"Get out of my house," she said through gritted teeth. I swore I could still see the reflection of flames dancing in her eyes.

Most of them obeyed her, and quickly stumbled out the front door. Perhaps they could see the fire in her eyes as well… Yes, that must have been it. Why else would they have gone? The odds were on their side.

However, the man with the burnt arm stayed. He glared up at us, growling a little as he spoke, "This isn't over yet. If you don't get that thing out of our village, we will! Even if I have to tear your whole bloody house down to get to 'em! I won't rest until I have that werewolf's head mounted on my wall, mark my words!"

She didn't say anything, but the flames in her eyes seemed to grow as she waved her wand at the man. In seconds, he was sailing out the front door as if he were weightless. I heard him land on the ground outside with an oomph before the door slammed shut.

"I'm so sorry you had to hear all that, Remus," she said, staring at the floor.

"No," I sighed. "I'm used to it by now. And besides, they're right. Which is why I'm leaving tomorrow."

She gasped, "Remus, no-"

"I have to," I said. "I don't want them coming back here. They'll hurt you, mother. They might try to kill you, even."

"I don't care!" she sobbed, grabbing my shoulders so she could give me a good shake. "You're my son!"

"And I'm sick of causing you trouble," I said sternly.

"But…" she whimpered. "Where will you go?"

That was the tough part, wasn't it? Even if I could find someplace I could afford, my condition would never allow me to stay in the same place for too long. Anyone with any wit at all would eventually catch on, and as soon as they did, I would be kicked out without a second thought.

"I'm sure I'll find something," I lied. "Don't worry."