10th March 1971

Remus rolled out of bed and stomped across the bare wood floor, averting his eyes from the deep gouges in his floorboards caused by the wolf's claws. Several years ago, his dad had decided it was a waste of time repairing the cosmetic damage every month. It would take him no more than a wave of his wand, but even that small act of kindness was too much for him, apparently.

In the bathroom, he stripped off and entered the shower, forcing him to face another constant reminder of his condition, the network of scars that covered his body. Most were old, faded silvery lines of varying thickness and length, winding around his arms and legs, and crisscrossing his torso. Some were fresher, still raised against his skin in an angry red. The original bite on his upper left arm was barely visible really. But to him, the circular puncture scars were the most prominent of all his disfigurements. Tinted a pale lilac from the silver used to keep him from bleeding out, they clearly marked him for what he was. A beast. He washed with his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to see the ugliness of his body; there was no point in making his already rotten mood any worse.

Stomping back to his room to dress, he caught the scent of frying bacon drifting from the kitchen and sighed. Every birthday, she made him bacon for breakfast, bought him a gift and made a fuss like he was just a normal boy. It all felt so hollow to him. The rituals, the pretence. Pointless.

The remote Devonshire cottage his parents had moved them to after his first transformation felt like a prison at times. Their closest neighbours were six miles away, and he never travelled that far out. He had contact with no-one but his parents, and he was lonely. He glanced out of his bedroom window as he pulled on his jeans and t-shirt. The view always brought him comfort when he was getting depressed. Beautiful woodlands bordered the back garden, and he enjoyed going for hikes through the trees when he felt well enough. The natural setting soothed his soul, but there would be no chance of that today. His mum would expect them to do something together.

He just wanted to be alone.

Sucking it up and plastering a smile on his face, he trudged into the kitchen to face his eleventh birthday.

'Happy birthday, sweetheart!' his mum said as he entered the room.

He took a seat at the table, and she carefully handed him a plate filled with bacon and eggs. The caution in her movements made him clench his fists. His parents laced every interaction with reminders of his abnormality.

'Thanks, Mum,' he said, forcing his mouth to form a weak smile.

She smiled widely and sat down opposite him to begin her own breakfast.

'What do you want to do today?' she asked.

He glanced up from his plate, stopping mid-chew, and blinked at her.

'Do?' he said. 'What is there to do?'

'Don't talk with your mouth full, Remus. You're not an animal,' she said.

His face heated, and his heart pounded in his chest. Memories of his transformations ran through his mind. Watching as his fingers and toes sprouted claws. Staring down at his arms and legs covered with coarse fur. The sound of his screams turning into monstrous howls. He swallowed his food, slammed his cutlery down and stood from the table, shoving his chair out behind him so violently that it toppled over.

'That's exactly what I am! A mindless animal!'

He screamed the words at her, not caring about her stricken face and fled to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Alone in his room, he curled into a ball in the corner. His eyes burned as the rage bled away, and guilt gnawed at him for shouting at his mum. She hadn't meant anything bad by what she said; the words were nothing more than a common phrase, but they had hit a nerve in him.

He recalled her expression when he screamed at her. There was fear in her shadowed eyes. Her once pretty face was tired and drawn, and he knew it was his fault. If he hadn't been so stupid and opened his bedroom window that night, they would still be a normal family. Happy and carefree, not exhausted and at each other's throats.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Remus sighed, it was the same every time. She never left him to stew for long.

'Come in.'

The door opened, and as he'd expected, his mum walked in. She was carrying a small gift wrapped in shiny blue paper.

'I'm sorry for yelling at you,' he said, staring at his hands so he wouldn't have to see the look in her eyes.

'It's okay, sweetheart. I'm sorry too. I understand why you were upset. Let's forget about it and move on. I bought you a present.'

She stepped over to where he was hunkered in the corner and handed him the gift. He unwrapped the package slowly, folding the paper up to be kept and reused, before looking at the contents. He knew it was a book before he unwrapped it. Not only because of the distinctive shape and weight but because his presents were always books. Books and chocolate. That's all he wanted, and all his parents could afford, anyway. This book was special, though. It was the last book he needed for his collection; A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. He was thrilled.

'Wow! Thanks, Mum. This is perfect,' he said, already flicking through the pages.

'I talked to your dad, and he agreed that you can buy a wand in September.'

That pulled his attention from his present. His head shot up, and he gaped at her. 'Are you serious?'

She nodded, beaming at him.

'Oh, Merlin! Thank you! That's brilliant!' He clambered up from the floor, not sure what to do with himself.

'You need to be careful about not overextending yourself when you practise though. You won't have the Hogwarts teachers to guide you.'

Remus ignored her. He was too caught up in his excitement to listen. The news was an even better present than the book because owning a wand meant he could practice. He hadn't expected to be able to test out his knowledge until he came of age. He wanted to hug her, but he couldn't, so he started jumping up and down instead.

'Remus? Promise me you'll be careful.'

He heard her that time and stopped jumping. 'I'll be careful, Mum. I'm always careful.'

'I know you are, sweetheart, I just wanted to make sure. Right, well, I'll leave you with your book. I'm sure you're dying to start reading it.'

Remus acknowledged the accuracy of her statement with a nod of his head, opened the book and settled on his bed to read. Knowing he would own his very own wand in a few months made studying hard even more important.

That evening, one hundred and fifty miles away from where Remus lay reading, a young boy with shoulder-length black hair and silver-grey eyes was staring out of his bedroom window at the almost full moon, thinking about the day a fierce bronze-haired boy with golden-yellow eyes had kicked his tormentor in the shin.

Would Remus be at Hogwarts in September? The hope burned in his chest like fire. He longed for the chance to thank him for the brief moment of happiness he'd brought him that day and for the comfort the memory had brought him on so many days since.

It had started the same way it always did. As soon as he woke up, he was in trouble. Mother had punished him the first time that morning for jumping on his bed, petrifying him with his arms in the air and forcing him to stand in the corner with his muscles locked in place for an hour. His arm muscles were burning by the time she released him from the spell.

At breakfast, he was in trouble for poor table manners. He had used his fingers to pick up a tricky piece of bacon that refused to stick to his fork. For that crime, she attached his cutlery to his hands with a temporary sticking charm, making them extremely challenging to use, and then shot a stinger at him every time he failed to pick up his food with them. How was that even fair?

In Diagon Alley, he hadn't been able to prevent himself from running around in the street; he knew he shouldn't, but the open space just called to him. A few minutes before Remus had found him huddled in the apothecary, Mother had promised him he would spend the night chained in the cellar for his inappropriate behaviour. The moment she finished spouting reprimands and took her eyes off him, he had run into the shop to hide.

He shuddered as he recalled all the nights spent in that cellar. The memory of Remus kicking his mother in the shin and screaming at her to leave him alone had sustained him through many tough periods since it happened. Her facial expression when his foot had made contact was priceless. Unforgettable.

He hoped Remus would be at Hogwarts. He wouldn't thank him in words, though. How could he explain how much it meant to him to have someone come to his defence? How could anyone understand? But he would thank him with his actions. He would find a way; the debt could not remain unpaid.

A quiet knock sounded at his bedroom door at last, and he jumped down from the windowsill, running to open it. He eased the door open so it wouldn't make a sound and ushered his brother inside. They both stayed silent until he'd closed the door with a quiet click.

'I'm sorry for taking so long, Siri. Mother and Father stayed up late tonight,' Regulus said.

'Don't worry about it. I know you're risking a lot. But hand it over already. I'm starving,' Sirius said, grabbing the tray from his brother and lifting the lid. He leant over the plate and inhaled, taking in the delectable scent of the roast beef and potatoes before sitting down at his desk to devour his dinner.

'I can't believe it's been a week,' Regulus said, watching his older brother wolf down the food. 'Do you think they know?'

'Know what?' Sirius asked in-between mouthfuls.

'About me bringing you food.'

Sirius stopped eating and stared at his brother, rolling his eyes.

'No, Reg. If they did, they'd stop you. They'll feed me soon. They just want me to suffer first.'

His tone of voice suggested he didn't care. But he did. It hurt that his parents couldn't love him for him. It hurt that they insisted on trying to change him.

'Maybe you should just apologise.'

'Apologise for what? Telling the truth? I don't see what's so wrong with saying I don't want to be in Slytherin.'

Regulus sighed. 'All right. Have you finished? I need to put it back before I go to bed.'

'Yeah, thanks for doing this. You know I'd do it for you too. If you ever got in trouble.'

'I know,' Regulus said. 'Goodnight.'

He embraced his little brother for a moment before Regulus picked up the tray and left. He wasn't worried about him being caught. Reg would say the food belonged to him, and their parents would accept it. He wasn't the heir, so they didn't care what he did, meaning he got away with anything. He kicked the end of his bed in frustration. Why did he have to be born first? It wasn't fair. He flopped down on his bed without bothering to undress or pull back the covers and, with his belly finally full, he fell asleep.

Mother released him from his confinement the next day. First informing him, she was hosting yet another party for important members of society. The only reason she let him out was that the heir of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black needed to be present. She told him it was an opportunity to prove he wasn't a complete disappointment. He cringed. He hated these society parties; they bored him, and the guest list always contained the most awful people.

He obediently made himself presentable though, dressing in his most expensive formal robes before checking his appearance in the bedroom mirror. He was a good-looking boy. That wasn't being vain. All the Blacks were attractive people, and he was no exception. He wore his silky black hair long, as was customary for pure-bloods, and it fell in waves down to his shoulders, framing his aristocratic facial features. His eyes were a smoky grey, and they sparkled with the mischief that continuously got him punished. The expensive robes he wore had been tailor-made for him, and they hung from his frame in perfect folds. He winced at how well he passed for an arrogant Slytherin pureblood. He needed to do something about that. A knock came from the door, and Reg called through to say he should hurry. The guests were arriving, and their mother was angry that the heir was not there to greet them.

'I'll be down in a second. I'm almost ready,' Sirius said, scrambling through his desk drawers in search of something. At last, he found what he sought, shoved it in his pocket and headed downstairs to greet the guests at his mother's party.

'Ah, Abraxas, so glad you could make it. I hope you're well?' Mrs Black said, greeting the silver-haired man and offering her powdered cheek for a kiss.

'I am in perfect health, Walburga. Thank you for asking, and yourself?' Mr Malfoy said after kissing the proffered cheek.

'I am very well indeed, thank you, and your wife? I heard she was ill?'

Her face showed an expression of concern that Sirius had never seen directed his way. He groaned softly. All the chit chat bored him to tears, and this was the nineteenth introduction they had subjected him to. Yes, he was counting. Abraxas peered down at him and smirked.

'Ah, Walburga, I believe the young ones tire of this bothersome adult conversation. Perhaps we should proceed to the introductions, so they can retire to a more entertaining location?' he said.

Walburga nodded, quick to agree with her guest's suggestion, but when Abraxas turned to beckon his son, she glared at Sirius. He valiantly resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her in response. Walburga placed a firm hand on Sirius' shoulder, digging her nails into his skin, and moved him forward. He would have bruises in the morning.

'Allow me to introduce the heir to The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Mr Malfoy. My son. Sirius Black.'

Abraxas' son stepped forward and held out his hand to Sirius.

'It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Black. May the friendship between our houses be long and fruitful,' he said.

Knowing what his mother expected of him as the heir, Sirius did not take the man's hand but stared at Abraxas, awaiting an introduction. Abraxas obliged.

'The heir to House Malfoy. My son. Master Lucius Malfoy,' he said with a bow.

That provided Sirius' cue, and he dutifully shook hands with the tall, white-haired young man.

'The pleasure is mine, Master Malfoy. Would you care to join me in the library for a drink?' he said, his stomach rolling at the pretence of it all.

'That would be delightful, thank you, Master Black.' Lucius turned to the adults and continued, 'Please excuse us,' bowing to them both before joining Sirius to head to the library.

Once they'd escaped from the adults, they both dropped the act. Sirius flopped down into one of the uncomfortable chairs in the library while Lucius perched on the edge of another.

'Salazar's teeth, I detest these parties, don't you?' Lucius said, grimacing.

'So very, very much,' Sirius said with a groan.

His mother's parties were a real strain on his nerves. Asking him to rein in his near-constant impulses for several hours was like asking a dog not to bark at a squirrel. He couldn't afford to make a single mistake while he was in such influential company. His mother watched his every move, and if he put a toe out of place, uttered a single wrong syllable, his punishment would be swift and brutal. It was exhausting.

'Thank Merlin I'll be back at Hogwarts tomorrow. You'll be starting in September, won't you? I'll be a seventh-year prefect. Feel free to come and find me if you need assistance,' Lucius said.

'Thank you, I'll do that,' Sirius said with a nod, although he didn't think he would. He was rather hoping not to be in Slytherin.

Thinking of being at Hogwarts at all though caused a grin he couldn't suppress no matter how much he tried. He twisted around on the chair so he could lounge back with his legs dangling over the arm.

'I can't wait to get out of here.'

'I'm sure. I expect you have to put up with a lot more of this nonsense than I do.'

'Without a doubt.' Sirius said. 'Is there a reason your family is suddenly on my mother's invitation list?'

'There is indeed,' he said with a sigh. 'I was recently betrothed to your cousin Narcissa.'

Sirius snorted. 'I can understand why you don't appear thrilled about it. She's a bit frosty.'

'That she is, but one must do as one is told.'

Lucius scowled at his own statement. He clearly didn't want to marry the girl his parents had chosen for him, but he would be a good little heir and marry her anyway. Sometimes Sirius wished he was capable of behaving the same way, but then again, maybe not.

He considered the item he'd secreted in his pocket at the start of the evening. 'Hey, how do you fancy livening this party up a little?' he said, pulling the dungbomb from his robes.

'Ah, the mischievousness of youth,' Lucius said, laughing. 'Yes, why not? I should get one more evening of frivolity before I'm hampered by the mundanity of married life.'

Sirius and his new co-conspirator snuck out of the library and down the hall to the ballroom. The music drifted out, lilting gently over the hum of conversation. The noise worked wonderfully as a cover for their whispered consultation on how best to carry out the task. After a fevered discussion, they decided on levitation as the most appropriate means of transportation, and the chandelier in the middle of the room as the optimum location for maximum dispersal of the dungbomb's toxic gases.

Lucius carried out the task, as Sirius had yet to even set foot inside Hogwarts. He made a wonderful look-out, however, and no one in the room noticed a thing. Once the dungbomb was suitably positioned, Lucius shot a stunner in its direction to make it explode, and they ran.

When the cries of anguish came from the ballroom, they could barely contain their laughter, imagining the disgusted expressions on the faces of the rich and powerful guests. But by the time Walburga arrived, Sirius and Lucius were once again ensconced in the library, sitting in their uncomfortable chairs and conversing quietly. They appeared to be the picture of pureblood dignity.

'Is there a problem, Mother?' Sirius asked, keeping his expression smooth and emotionless, just the way she taught him.

'No, nothing, I was looking for your father,' she lied. 'Have you seen him?'

'Not since we came to the library,' Sirius said, giving Walburga no choice but to leave.

She held no proof Sirius was behind the dungbomb. As Lucius pointed out once she was out of hearing range, no one would suspect Lucius Malfoy of being involved. If the two of them were together all evening, it obviously couldn't have been Sirius either.

The next day, back in Devon, Remus felt rough. It was the night of the full moon, and it was going to be a bad one. He could tell. The pain had begun before he even woke that morning, a dull ache in his bones that rarely started until midday. It was moons like this one that made him wonder if it was all worth it. Wouldn't it be easier to down an infusion of wolfsbane and silver and be done with it all?

He spent the day in bed, feeling sorry for himself, knowing the pain would continue to get worse throughout the day. When his mum came to investigate, he told her he was too sick to get up, and she brought him food, but he had no appetite for it. He tried to get some sleep and dozed, on and off, for a few hours, but the pain intensified and sleep became impossible. An hour before moonrise, his mum came to lock him in, wishing him a 'good' night, like that could ever happen.

The transformation began, and he went through his usual routine of trying to suppress the screams so he wouldn't upset his mum. He wished she would agree to silence his room instead of the whole house, but she insisted that she would be with him in that way if she could not be with him in any other. She would bear witness to his suffering, so he was not alone in it.

The pain quickly became too much, and he gave in to the urge to scream. Halfway through the transformation, he examined himself and could tell something was different. The wolf's form appeared bigger than it used to, the muscles bulkier. His room would no longer contain this beast. He tried to call out a warning, but his voice box changed, and only a howl emerged. With his last conscious thought, he prayed to Merlin, Godric and Salazar that his parents escaped in time and he wouldn't wake up the next morning an orphan.