Once a Wolf

Once a Wolf
Written by: infected with lupinus

Canto One: The Dark Wood of Error

First Draft Penned: June 24, 2004
Revisions: March 4, 2005 (Grammar/Streamlining September 24, 2006)

"Nitimur in vetitum simper, cupimusque negata.
(We are always striving for things forbidden, and coveting those denied us.)"

--Ovid

Prologue

Some say it was his family name of Lupescu that marked him. Others say it was because he was born from the union of an English witch and a Rumanian Gypsy that he was fated for the bite. Either way, he was but a child of five when the horrid curse imposed itself upon him and from then on sent him and his family into a rapid downward spiral. This is what he knew:

His Mamă Stella Thorndike was eighteen-years-old when she visited Transylvania for the summer, possessing the desire to indulge a passion for chasing dragons. Instead, she found alternative passions stirred when she met Muggle Gypsy Doru Lupescu. Doru captured her heart after rescuing her from an oafish brute attempting to perform unfavourable acts upon her in a Sinaia alleyway.

Tată Doru was Mamă's age and as strong as he was beautiful, which he proved with quick disposal of her offender. He was a perfect gentleman who became inseparable from Mamă during her sabbatical in Rumania. He ushered her around Sinaia, taking her to the best markets, the memorials and museums found in Dimitrie Ghica Park, the Sinaia Monastary with its finely decorated churches, and the ornate and pristine white Peleş Castle which she found as breathtaking as her guide. It took little for him to convince her to venture outside of town for introduction to his family and friends at their campsite in the stunning Prahova Valley.

Mamă was well received by the Lupescu family who were openly pleased at Tată's find in her. They instantly took to teaching her about their culture: stories, dances, how to cook their dishes...more specifically, how to cook Tată's favourite dishes. The young couple was amused by the not-so-subtle hints the family gave but after spending a brief month together they also knew that they were meant to be.

They were married in his lush valley home beneath unfaltering stars by the light of an immense bonfire, the looming Bucegi Mountains as the dramatic backdrop. After the short exchange of vows, the newlyweds honeymooned inside a smaller valley carved deeper into the face of the mountain range. Here, the couloir they took to get inside was also the only exit from the secluded valley. Mamă was in a state of bliss there in her own private paradise with the man she loved and did not want to leave.

During their honeymoon, the couple ignored the one haunting dilemma that they needed to address. When their intimate time together drew to a close after their one allotted week and they rejoined the Lupescu camp, Tată weighed two options in his mind: ask Stella to remain with him and his extended family in the Prahova Valley as was tradition or relocate in far away Anglia where they could start fresh. His decision was made after Mamă announced that she was with child. For Tată there was no compromise: Mamă would need to be with her own family during the pregnancy. Within a few days they left for England.

There, Tată discovered that the British were as hostile toward Româ Gypsies as the Rumanians in his native land were. It was difficult for the couple to gain acceptance in either world, Muggle or wizard. Tată's appearance with his fair skin and hair was passable as Anglo but the name betrayed him. Wanting to better integrate into his new homeland, Tată changed their surname from Lupescu to Lupin. Although proud of his Româ heritage, the new name sounded less ethnic, Tată's objective being to spare his unborn child the intolerance that he himself suffered. The name change would be easier on them all, and he believed his child was less likely to be teased or bullied.

But Mamă's pregnancy was such a difficult one that the midwife ordered her on bedrest untill she gave birth. Alas, Mamă lost the baby at four months in spite of these precautions. The miscarriage devastated the young couple, yet the following year found Mamă again with child. This time everything seemed fine...untill the infant arrived stillborn. The second loss was too much for them to bear and they lost hope that their dream of starting a family would ever be fulfilled. Nevertheless, they continued trying, only to be repeatedly disappointed each month when Mamă saw red.

Finally, in June Mamă discovered she was pregnant for a third time. Both husband and wife rejoiced but met the news with trepidation, anticipating complication and another tragic outcome. But the third pregnancy was a charm and on March 10, 1960, Stella and Doru Lupin at last became parents to a slightly premature baby boy. Due to his great determination to live, Mamă named him Remus in honour of one of Rome's founding siblings.

The good tidings weren't completely met with joy. The Lupescu family became harbingers of doom, voicing their Transylvanian superstitions when told the name of the new addition. It was the equivalent of murder, they prophesied, to name a child after a man raised by a wolf when he already belonged to the lupi since their family name derived from the creatures. They asked Tată if he had strayed so far from his roots to do such a thing and advised him to not forget his old beliefs by tempting Fate's will with a dangerous push. Neither he nor Mamă paid heed to their balefull predictions. Remus' name remained, and since wolves were extinct in England and Transylvania was so far away, there was no need to worry. Such thoughts were petty, even in the Wizarding world.

In spite of the controversy, little Remus grew up in a happy, loving environment surrounded by both family and friends. He romped and played through the English countryside, liked by all, prized by his parents. He was their mic miracolul, a blessing from the gods. It was quickly discovered that Remus was a gifted child, able to read at the tender age of two, well ahead of his peers, which sweetened their parental love and fuelled their fierce pride. As most gifted children often do, he exhibited a vivid imagination, coaxing his friends to play various games of adventurous conquest. There was always a dragon to slay, a treasure to unearth, or a joust to champion.

Remus' enthusiasm for reading and thirst for knowledge grew with each passing day. With ease he became the teacher's pet in the Muggle primary school he attended, which did not sit well with the other children. They took to picking on him, shoving him in the halls or knocking the books from his arms and tormenting him with names like pouf, swot, weed, egg-head and Nobby-no-mates.

But they were wrong. Remus had friends. True, he did not create any new playmates amidst the Muggle children, but he was able to keep the small group of friends he made in the Wizarding community. After all, they were from around the neighbourhood and had known him practically since birth. He was positive they would never hurt him in any way, for they were his true friends so Remus did not consider his unfriendly classmates a terrible loss.

Fortunately, the relentless teasing by his Muggle classmates did not deter Remus from his studies. Conversely, it seemed to throw him even deeper into his texts. Whenever the boy wasn't playing games or pretending with his friends, he sat Indian-style beneath the old oak tree which he dubbed the Reading Tree, softly reading aloud to himself while his tiny index finger followed his progress, smudging the ink of the printed lines in his wake. He enjoyed reading more than he loved playing, accredited to Mamă reading to him while he was within her womb. Mamă and Tată still alternated nights to tell him bedtime stories of the Wizarding world discreetly coexisting among the Muggle world and tales of the far away forests of Rumania.

As for his magical skills, Mamă was delighted to find Remus' high intelligence to be accompanied with an equally high aptitude for magic. The child proved to be a promising wizard from the age of two, performing easy tricks which made friends think that they misplaced some random item when in fact little Remus levitated it into his grasp. Mamă relished in how her tiny miracolul made leaves swirl and circle with himself as the epicentre of the amusing tornado or how he floated his favourite toy, a stuffed bear he named Ursuz which was never very far from him, across the room whenever he wanted it, or how he manifested rainbow mobiles above his bed in the dark when he should've been asleep. She taught him many simple spells which he quickly mastered for his age, impressing Mamă, Tată and all of his Wizarding peers. But there was a catch: Mamă stressed that he should never ever do magic at school, else he would be taken away. He always obeyed his parents; hence he endured the Muggle children's unkindness without so much as a sneezing hex. Besides, he didn't wish to be taken from his parents.

His restrained eagerness and magical abilities prompted Mamă to reward him with stories of her alma mater, a place in Scotland named Hogwarts. She told him it was likely that when he was old enough then he would also attend. He expressed a fascination with the school, so much that her heart swelled with immense pride when one day she found him standing beneath the Reading Tree in front of Ursuz and his friends, giving a mock lecture on levitation.

"What are you doing, Poppet?" she then inquired.

"Playing Hogwarts, mummy," he answered, a twinkle in his grey eyes.

She walked away, he noticed, with an appeased smile, and listening to his verbose lecture while the other children clung to his every word.

Soon enough things weren't all rainbows and sunshine for the young boy. The joyous, easy-going lives of the Lupins took a bizarre twist during Remus' fifth year of life. That was when Tată's younger siblings came to visit from the Old Country. Remus found these visitors interesting. Unchi Sorin greatly resembled Tată with the light eyes, fair skin and tawny hair that Remus himself inherited. Tanti Alina looked the typical Româ Gypsy with long, luxurious dark hair, brown eyes and an olive complexion. Remus thought she was very pretty.

For a few days he shied away from them, crawling on his hands and knees to hide behind the furniture where he quietly observed the strangers in his home. He particularly kept distance from Tanti Alina whom he carried an obvious fancy for. Somewhat crippled by his timid nature, he clung to the backs of his parents' legs with eyes cast downward as he spoke in an incomprehensible mutter.

That changed soon enough when Tanti Alina decided that she was crazy for her little nephew.

"Salut, Remus," she greeted with a bewitching smile after she spotted him crouching behind the settee, staring at her. "Ce mai faceţi?"

Instead of answering, Remus rushed over to where Mamă stood and from behind her legs peeked around at Tanti Alina. Mamă's hand caressed his scalp, soothing his childish anxiety like a puppy lapping at the nape of his neck.

"Vorbiţi, Remus!" chuckled Tată.

"Vorbiţi Româneşte, Remus?" Tanti Alina asked.

He nodded.

"Tu vrei nişte bomboăne?"

Again he nodded.

She reached into her pocket then presented him with the promised sweets, coaxing, "Vino aici şi iao. Vino şi iao, Remus! Aici!"

"Dute şi iao, fiul meu," Tată continued to laugh. "Dute la mătuşă tău!"

Remus took a deep, breathy sigh.

"Go ahead, Poppet," Mamă urged. "Don't be shy."

Remus bolted over to snatch the sweets from Tanti Alina, but before he could make his hasty retreat back to Mamă's leggy refuge, Tanti wrapped her arms around his tummy in a firm bear-hug and delivered a kiss on his cheek.

"Te iubesc, micuţule verşor," Tanti Alina cooed solemnly, drawing him upon her lap.

Remus preoccupied himself with unwrapping his sweet and cramming it into his mouth untill Mamă reminded him of etiquette.

"What do you say, Remus?"

"Mulţumesc bine, Tanti Alina," Remus thanked as best as he could amid a mouth stuffed with sweets.

"Cu plăcere, nepot," Tanti Alina stated softly in his ear. "Dragul meu, odorul meu, sufleţelul meu."

That simple bear-hug and peace-offering of sweets forged a strong friendship between Remus and his Tanti Alina and Unchi Sorin. Tanti Alina sat him upon her lap often, speaking to him only in Rumanian as she provoked his overactive imagination with stories of the Lupescu family adventures in the Old Country wildernesses. She taught him folk songs and dances that he frequently entertained everyone with during the evenings.

Unchi Sorin's avuncular duties spoilt Remus as much as Tanti Alina did. He snuck his nepot tineri various coins, small gifts from Rumania and sweets which accordingly gave the boy his sweet tooth. Remus spent hours intently watching Unchi Sorin whittle and carve various objects as they sat outside on the luxuriant grass and drank dandelion and Burdock. Often when their refreshment was finished Unchi Sorin rough-housed with the boy for long periods of time before returning to this woodwork, allowing Remus to help in making spears with strange silver tips.

As mentioned, there was a dark lining to this silver cloud of familial togetherness. The adults eventually fell into esoteric conversation and Remus found himself banished to his room or outside with his friends, away from the words he desperately sought to hear. Knowing her son's great curiosity, Mamă cast veils of silence over whichever room the discussions were held in to prevent Remus' prying ears from eavesdropping.

For all the determination to keep Remus ignorant, circumstances did not go unnoticed by the child. Tanti and Unchi's arrival was marked by a strange interruption in the Lupins' tranquil lives, for it was then that Remus began waking in the night and toddling into his parents' bedroom, Ursuz clutched tightly to his chest, with a frightening announcement.

"Mamă, Tată," his scratchy voice disturbed their sleep. "There's a monster outside my window. It keeps staring at me."

Mamă and Tată jolted from their sleep. Alarmed, Mamă cradled a shaken Remus in a protective embrace while Tată checked his son's room, finding nothing. Remus was disappointed when his fear was accredited to a nightmare caused by the provocation of his vivid imagination by Tanti Alina's spooky stories. As Mamă tucked him back into bed with Ursuz, Remus heard Tanti and Unchi murmuring to Tată in Rumanian, but their voices were too low for him to understand any of their words. Age mattered not, for the child sensed something was drastically wrong...and those creepy amber eyes were not his imagination! This much he knew just by the reaction of the adults.

Real or otherwise, the monster did not show itself again for a few weeks yet every night thereafter Remus noted Tată's absence. All Remus knew was Tată left with Tanti Alina and Unchi Sorin and it was scary for the little boy. Worse, these actions escalated his blatant nosiness, much to everyone's dismay.

"Why is Tată leaving?" he questioned. "Where is he going? Why does he go at night?"

"Never you mind, Poppet," Mamă softly dismissed. "Tată will be fine. Just stay inside with Ursuz and me."

"But--"

"No buts, Poppet. Come to bed. I'll read you a story."

She read Little Red Riding Hood to him, hoping to teach him about the Big Bad Wolf and instil within him a fear of the lowly beast. But Remus was yet a small child and the subtle meaning was lost in his innocent mind. He yawned, snuggled Ursuz, huddled beneath the safety of his blankets and fell asleep.

A few nights later the amber eyes returned.

Remus was asleep when the creepy feeling of being watched jarred him awake. Sure enough, he opened his eyes to discover the glowering amber orbs fixated intently upon his prone form. Shocked by the ocular intrusion, he wailled for his parents. Mamă reached the room first, coming between him and the eyes like a shield as she pulled him against her with a mother's protective ferocity.

"The eyes, Mamă! The eyes came back!"

His words sent the household spinning into chaos as Tată exited his room, rousing Tanti and Unchi from their sleep in his wake.

"Hush, Poppet, hush!" Mamă soothed, stroking him. "They're gone now. Look! Nothing's there, baby!"

Remus looked and saw only his own terrified, tear-stained reflection staring back and beyond that were Tată, Tanti and Unchi out in the garden searching for the eyes, each armed with the spear-sticks he helped carve.

Mamă brought him into her bedroom to sleep. Everything was right in her arms with Ursuz in his. Remus wanted badly to snuggle in security between the comforting bodies of both parents but, alas, it did not happen. Tată did not join them that night but instead chose to remain at constant vigil with his younger siblings. Knowing of their efforts to protect him, Remus was contented and felt safe enough to fall into dreams of lollipops, gingerbread and secret treasures. Safe from prying eyes. For now.

This last appearance of the eyes outside of Remus' bedroom window brought tides of tension in the household from then on. Remus wasn't certain what his family hid from him but he tried his damnedest to figure it out. That it centred around those heinous eyes was all he knew, proving to his sharp mind that they were indeed real rather than imagination as Mamă and Tată insisted them to be.

Their surreptitious conduct, meant to preserve his innocence, only served to frighten him further, for he sensed the stress taking its toll on his family. The child's only reprieve to ease the dissonance was to leave them crayon drawings of suns and flowers or little notes in his scrawling novice handwriting stating "I love you". In effort to seek the truth, he hid around corners and beneath windows, hoping to hear something that would make sense.

Late one night he sneaked out of his room with Ursuz squeezed dearly against his thudding heart after hearing the embroilled voices of his family drifting from the kitchen. His prudent tip-toeing went undetected by the distracted adults, allowing the little boy to get as far as the doorway where he pressed his back against the wall, enabling him to remain out of sight. Everyone sounded upset, even angry and he worried about his loved ones.

Cautiously leaning over, he peeked inside the kitchen to find Mamă cleaning a disgusting wound in Tată's chest. His only saving grace which kept him from getting caught when he gasped was Tată's cries of pain at the exact same moment after Mamă applied an antiseptic to the wound. He heard her cast a healling spell to mend the gash as silent, empathetic tears trickled down his face.

Tată was hurt! He wanted to rush to his father's side, throw himself into his arms, press against his strong, warm body, tell him that he loved him, and then everything would be fine. Rather, he stood still and listened.

"It has been four months," Unchi Sorin murmured in a disconcerting tone, "and still the beast lives. The lup is cunning to have escaped us for so long."

Lup? Remus weighed this with his cursed gift of high intelligence. Wolves don't live in England!

Yet Unchi Sorin distinctly said lup.

"We must find a way to destroy it before it's too late," Tanti Alina added. "It hunts us just as we hunt it."

"I fear for Remus," Mamă announced, making her son's heart palpitate faster at mention of his name. "It goes to his window and watches him. It's singled him out."

"We have offended the beast with our work," Unchi Sorin reminded. "Now it's come for what matters most to us."

"We will take every measure to protect our child," Tată told Mamă. "Whatever it takes. He is our precious miracle."

"Enough talk of this," insisted Mamă. "It's sunrise. The full moon is over and you lot need your rest. I must make breakfast. Remy will be awake soon and he'll be hungry."

Remus charged back to bed as fast as his little legs could carry him when the chairs scuffled against the linoleum floor as his family rose from the table.

The ensuing days were the most difficult ones yet. For all of his intelligence and cleverness, Remus was still but a child and his mind could not fully comprehend what was happening. He did not own the capacity to think about checking his books and researching what relation a wolf had with the full moon. He did not think to chart the lunar phases so he would be aware of which night the full moon fell upon. He was just too young to make the connections.

On the fifth full moon since Tanti and Unchi's arrival, Remus' friends visited to play like usual and he went about his juvenile business without realising that this day would be his last innocent one. It was a wonderfull day, jam-packed with the carefree abandon youth afforded him, the trouble with the lup forgotten. They played games of chasey and hide-and-seek for hours then pretended to be knights questing for dragon treasure before settling beneath the Reading Tree to play Hogwarts.

The sun began to set far too swiftly against a blood red sky, threatening a day of intense heat tomorrow. Soon enough Mamă, who'd been in the kitchen discussing grown-up stuff with Tată, Unchi Sorin and Tanti Alina all day, came outside to bring him in for the night. Each child groaned and complained in disappointment but Mamă was not hearing any of it and simply ushered Remus inside.

Later that evening he nestled against Tanti Alina, his back to her front, both stretched out over the settee, listening to streams of the soft jazz that Tanti grew a penchant for as it was broadcasted over the radio. Remus didn't mind. He enjoyed the mollifying notes as the music flowed from the box, his Tanti's hand rubbing circles over his tummy. Companioned with the jazz, this was an action which further lulled him to dreamland.

Near eight-thirty, he heard a gentle voice mutter beside his ear: "Remy? Come on, Poppet, off to bed with you."

Stretching, he complained, "Want watch 'Mantha, Mamă!"

"Samantha isn't on untill tomorrow. You have to go to bed first. You can watch Samantha when you wake up."

"I woke up! I want watch 'Mantha now!"

Remus' favourite telly programme was an American one about a pretty blonde housewife named Samantha who happened to be a witch too. Just like Mamă. Plus Samantha was pretty. Just like Mamă too.

The Lupins were one of the few families in the neighbourhood with a television set, a wedding gift from Mamă's wealthy family after they discovered she had a rather impromptu marriage. Although the Thorndikes did not believe in mixed marriages like most other Pureblood families didn't, they supported Mamă's choice in a husband. However, like everyone else, they loved the child who was brought into their lives by way of that marriage enough to place their prejudice aside and pamper him properly. The result was the telly, which pleased all of his friends greatly.

In spite of the privilege of having a television and the hounding of his friends to watch the curious Muggle contraption, Remus still preferred playing outside or reading. Except for when it came to Samantha. He always wanted to watch Bewitched. As Mamă roused the boy that evening, Remus was unaware that he'd taken a brief nap but instead believed it was morning and time for his programme.

"You're exhausted, Poppet. You're nearly out."

Mamă lifted a groggy Remus into her arms, draping his small form over her shoulder. In spite of his weariness, he fought stubbornly against his sleep as all tired children do.

"Want watch 'Mantha!" he protested, rubbing his pink-rimmed eyes.

"You can watch her on the morrow, Remus."

"Mummy, Mummy, I want, I want..."

"Shhh-shhh! Go to sleep! Go to sleep, Poppet!"

Remus felt himself being lowered into bed, then the cool bedclothes pulled around him. The fresh linens smelt of cotton and lemon, offering him added comfort that put him at ease. Then he felt the warm sensation of Mamă kissing his forehead before he fell asleep.

Sometime in the night he awakened suddenly. Immediately peering out of his window, he was relieved to not see eerie amber eyes looking back.

They aren't real! Mamă and Tată said they're my imagination!

Then he was aware of emptiness nearby; there was something that should've been with him but was not. It hit him:

Where was Ursuz?!

Frantically, he searched for his beloved ursulet.

Not anywhere on the bed. Not underneath the bedclothes. Not lodged between the bed frame and the wall. Not on the floor. Nope, not beneath the bed either.

He slid out of his warm nest and ventured out to the dark, vacant lounge.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

The tender pads of his small feet beat the rhythm over the cold tiled floor.

Not on the settee.

Where was Ursuz?

As he stood his full height from searching the floor, his eyes rested on the Reading Tree beyond the window...to where he and his friends liked to play Hogwarts...to where they played Hogwarts earlier...to where...

Ursuz!

...Ursuz sat staring back at him with his beady black, unblinking eyes.

He charged forward to the door but halted when doubt stopped him. The lup with the amber eyes would be outside! It would get him if he went out!

Blinking, he shook his tousselled head to clear it.

No! There was no lup! It was his imagination, like pretend! Mamă and Tată would not lie to him! If the lup was real then it would've been watching him from outside his window where it always was. Besides, the wizards and knights he pretended to be would fear neither dragon nor wolf.

He placed a tiny hand on the ornate glass doorknob, breathed in deep to summon his courageous inner wizard before he swung open the door and stepped outside. It was Remus' doughty nature bestowed upon him from both of his parents that compelled him to brave those intense amber eyes he just knew deep down were lying in wait. The mix of Gypsy/wizard blood pulsed valiantly through his veins as a single thought urged him on: he needed to save Ursuz. His plan was to run out, grab the toy from the lup's hungry jaws then tuck himself and his teddy back into bed where the beast couldn't touch them.

He left the porch one cautious step at a time untill his bare feet touched the grass carpet of the garden. Doubt froze him for a moment. He surveyed the ink well-blackness of the garden and saw that it was not the garden he knew. Everything appeared strange, displaced and alien to his young eyes.

Hearing a rustle behind him, he gasped and whirled around to meet whatever challenged him but found nothing. His breath exhaled in a huff then he raced over to the Reading Tree and snatched Ursuz up into his eager arms.

When he turned back around to retreat toward the security of his house, he met with the glowing and very real amber eyes of a great wolf. It was as if the blackness itself took the terrible canine shape from out of a lingering nightmare.

"Grrrrrr!" growled the animal, its rage reverberating from the depths of its gullet.

Remus gasped, eyes agape in bewilderment as he slowly backed away from the monster.

"Grrrrrr!"

The lup stepped forward.

Remus stepped back, Ursuz the only thing between him and those dripping, snapping jaws.

The lup took another step forward.

Remus glanced over the beast at his quiet, shadowed home where safety taunted him. Too much distance lay between him and the front door and although his legs were long for his age, they were still a child's limbs which would never be able to outrun a wild animal. If he could just reach the porch!

The little boy's shaky legs failled him when he stumbled then fell hard to the ground, skinning his hands and knees raw.

"Rrrrrrrrr!!"

There was no time to react in any way before the wolf pounced upon him. A stream of Rumanian poured from his mouth in a terrified shriek while he tried vainly to defend himself.

"Mamă! Tată! Ajutor! Ajutor! Lup! Lup! Nu mă atingeţi! Stai! Lasă-mă în pace! Mamă! Tată! Am nevoie de ajutorul vostru! Lup! Lup!!"

Remus struggled under the heavy weight of the wolf but his efforts were futile. The wolf sank its fangs into the sweet, tender flesh of his shoulder, making him scream louder than ever before.

Lights turned on inside the house but darkness consumed the child. All of the green grass and sunshine was forever erased from the voice of Remus John Lupin amid his bloodcurdling screams.

Chapter 1

Lupin bolted up from sleep with his heart hammering against his ribs, eyes as wide as saucers while he surveyed the encompassing area. Once he realised where he was, the indelible images of that fatefull period in his life faded back inside stygian blackness so like the monster who bestowed its curse upon him; a blissfull, enveloping darkness, a frigid nothingness akin to the velvet nocturnal sky.

His frail form shook uncontrollably as a frosty wind penetrated the insubstantial blanket covering him. It was fruitless to wrap the ragged thing tighter around him for it offered no better protection if he did. Nevertheless, he sat straight up on the park bench he'd been asleep on then curled his emaciated body into the foetal position, hoping to manufacture the warmth that the blanket neglected to give.

It was only September but winter wanted to come early and already battered London with uncomfortable temperatures, making the pitiless streets even crueller. Lupin knew cruelty in its many forms from first-hand experiences ever since he was infected. The weather was cruelty's fairest face, he found. The unusually bitter wind ripped harder through the open space he occupied, howling in his numbed ears. Though they were already stiff, he tucked his bare hands between his legs and stomach then drew his knees closer to his chest, determined to protect his extremities from autumn's nippy bite.

Stop, wind! Please stop! he begged in thought.

But it didn't and nothing he did helped. The cold kissed an exposed portion of his neck and he brought his frozen hands from their body-heated sanctuary so he could pull the collar of his coat back up to protect the bared flesh. He blew a puff of warm breath over his hands then rubbed them together, trying to thaw them before they were placed back over his heart where it was warm. The only mercy the cold offered was that it calmed the sharp throb of the bruise below his left eye, the remnant of a recent knot.

Had his spirit not been broken by years of hardship and poverty he would have made the extra effort to seek an alternative, suitable shelter against the ensuing season. But behind his chocolate bar-sweetened smiles he secretly harboured a death-wish and subconsciously desired to ebb away on the frigid streets. Too spent to live yet too terrified to fail at taking his own life, he felt trapped. Then there was the unknown fate he would face if he managed to succeed for him to consider. With his luck Dante would've been right and he'd spend eternity encased inside a tree being fed upon by harpies whose feasting would wound his lost soul.

Which was why it was fortunate for him that solitary werewolves possessed an innate wanderlust to be in new locations every few days, a defence mechanism that made solitaires absent from the security of a pack nearly impossible to locate, increasing their chance for survival. Leaving the park for a warmer environment appealled to him and seemed a better option than dying of the wished-upon hypothermia. For all of his self-pity and pursuit of death he was forever a coward in the end result.

Rising from the bench, he swore he felt an arthritic creak in his rigid joints. I'm only thirty-four, he thought, but I feel seventy-four. There was a slight, spectral tinkling from the dog tags the Ministry forced him to wear about his neck for quick and easy identification. Those surgical steel tags may not have been an actual leash but they served as the bonds of otherworldly servility. He knew the purpose behind the dog tags was to further humiliate werewolves into subservience, reminding them that they were animals rather than people, pets on bended knee to the Ministry's whims. A permanent tattoo had been considered but was too easy to conceal, yet nevertheless being an ink-stain branding their soul. Yes, the dog tags were efficient enough.

His empty stomach rumbled over these thoughts but he habitually ignored his hunger. He preoccupied himself by gathering his surrounding meagre possessions which comprised of what he wore, the useless blanket he retrieved from the pavement where it fell when he stood and the small, tattered case held together by several pieces of worn string. A few other things including a couple more articles of clothing, several books, some toiletries and personal items were miniaturised and contained within that case. The name stamped in stencilled gold lettering on his case peeled to now read Professor R.J. Lup, a subtle unveilling of his darkest nature to anyone observant or educated enough to notice.

Once upon a time his full name was emblazoned across the new rather than cracked leather of the gift from his parents. Now the remainder of it attempted to follow the example of the already vanquished letters. Just as well. Once upon a time he had been gainfully employed as a professor. Just as he was once considered a human being. Now he was a host of things: a beggar, a thief, a busker and a sometime rent-boy, whatever provided him with his next meal. The lycanthropic infection which catapulted him into such extreme indigence robbed him of nearly everything he had early in life. It condemned him to live in loneliness and misery, destitution and misunderstanding, in desperate need and unrequited want, snatching away all that he loved.

The childhood friends he believed were true wasted no time in abandoning him after the news spread of the attack on "that poor Lupin boy". The neighbourhood learned rapidly of the incident, thanks to a few in close proximity who were roused from their slumber by the child's screams that night. They witnessed the gruesome struggle inside the security of their homes, too selfish in their fear to aide the toddler fighting for survival. His family intended to shroud his condition in secrecy but those cowering neighbours announced the horrid news to the surrounding Wizarding community at first opportunity they got. The entire community turned their backs to the Lupins overnight. The ill treatment they received escalated untill they were forced to leave his childhood home in Devon, chased out by the modern equivalent of villagers with pitchforks.

His recollection of that awfull night was a blurred haze. The beast straddling him, pinning his small body underneath its superior weight, its teeth buried in the soft flesh of his shoulder as it attempted to drag him off, clawing his torso to urge him into submission. It meant to drag him to the gods knew where but he resisted every metre he was pulled. All activity ceased when the werewolf briefly slumped over his ravaged body before running off into the forest. Alina and Sorin wounded the creature, frightening it away, then he was in the comfort of his mother's arms.

Young Lupin was Apparated to St. Mungo's casualty where he was refused admittance immediately in spite of his potentially lethal injuries. Snippets of images and sounds from that night replayed in his mind. His frantic parents begged for someone to save their only child but were promptly warned to remove him from the premises, that his kind was not welcome in their establishment.

"He was born here, you ridiculous cow!" Mamă shouted at the witch behind the admittance desk. "He's just a little boy!"

"He's not your son any more, Mrs. Lupin," the witch insisted with a firm tone. "He's a Dark creature now. He'll be dangerous. The best we can do is euthanise him if he survives. It's best to let him die...or else take him to a veterinarian."

At that point Lupin lost consciousness but apparently a female intern who witnessed his parents' emotional plea for help trailled the distraught family outside where she performed a few complicated spells to repair his maulled body. This altruistic act saved his life. The young intern taught Mamă those healling spells then warned that werewolves were considered a threat to the medical field because no-one knew much about their physiology or behaviour. All they knew was lycanthropy was highly infectious. Factoids published reported werewolves' violent, unpredictable nature, subsequently closing everyone's minds untill werewolves were turned away...even if the victim was a five-year-old on the cusp of death. Those in the medical profession often lose their bedside manner, the intern informed, but it was wicked to refuse a child in need even if that child was a werewolf.

The expulsion from society was immediate. While young Lupin lay in bed delirious from fever and infection, the parents of a pair of his beloved friends came to speak to Mamă and Tată about their friendships. Through his feverish state he overheard the words that started his collection of heartfelt scars.

"Keep your son away from my child, Stella. I want as much distance as possible between my son and yours."

"But Francine, he's still Remus!"

"No he's not. And you know very well that he's not. Your son died. That thing in his bed is a monster."

A sharp slap! resounded after Francine's offensive words and Remus knew that his mother struck her.

"My son is not a monster! He is a survivor! Now remove yourself from my house! Get out or you shall receive worse!"

"He's an animal, Stella! Put him down before he infects or kills someone!"

It was customary for children bitten by a werewolf to be destroyed in the manner likened to a rabid dog, for a dog was what a lycanthrope was considered to be, downgraded to beast even while in human form. That was something Lupin still found troublesome to cope with. Yet he was one of the lucky ones. He had parents who loved and wanted him. To his knowledge no other lycanthropic child grew up because if they managed to survive their first transformation, itself an unlikely feat, they were humanely put down in hails of silver bullets, burnt to death while placed upon pyres or left in the wilderness with hope that they died of exposure, starvation or fell prey to Darwin's survival of the fittest rule.

Remus Lupin was most fortunate indeed. He survived the traumatic first transformation, a feat most adults were unable to do. It came to pass that survival was the main theme throughout his life. He survived one transformation only to see another at next full moon rise. Whereas others dubbed him monster or victim, Mamă kept insisting that he was a survivor.

Perhaps keeping him alive was his loving parents' first mistake. He dared consider that they wanted him to live for their own selfish reasons, he being their only child. True, their compassion for their little miracle allowed the boy to enjoy a decent quality of life, continuing on as normal, sans all of his friends save for Ursuz. One-eyed, torn and darned, blood-stained Ursuz who could not rescue his rescuer. Ursuz was still in his possession, miniaturised and tucked away in the case with the rest of his meagre belongings. Ursuz was his only loyal friend throughout the entire ordeal so he owed it to the ursulet to keep him safe. He cared not that he was a grown man with a dependency on a childhood toy; Ursuz was there for him when others were not.

His parents and most of his friends were now long dead from either age or war while everyone left bustled about, caught up in their own lives without giving him a second thought. He understood, really he did. There was an impending war, after all, and most probably thought him already dead.

In one sense he was dead. The man he used to be was certainly long gone, the last bit of him killed a few years ago after...

Don't travel down that dark road, Lupin! he thought. It isn't worth it! Best to forget!

With purposefull avoidance of one heartache he found himself sucked into the vortex of another, generated by a sweets wrapper that cart-wheeled passed him in the icy wind. His poor parents wouldn't want him dead after the extreme lengths they went through to protect him, before and after the bite. He couldn't betray them with suicide. Every penny they earned and saved was wasted away in vain attempts to cure him, succeeding in only making him fiercely ill and themselves bankrupt.

It was Alina who offered an actual cure to him. After standing outside the cellar door and listening to the terrified screams of his first transformation, she could not bear to know the great pain her lubito micuţule verişor endured. She wept profusely as he pounded on the cellar door with his dainty fists, his voice scratchy from the raw throat he acquired by screaming.

"Mamă! Tată!" he shouted. "I'll be good! I'll be good! Please let me out! I'm a good boy! Please let me out, I'm scared!"

The wolf cared not that little Remus was a good boy. It was in him. It wanted out and it got out by ripping through his five-year-old body. His muscles twisted, bones snapped and body contorted as it rearranged itself into a different form. There was so much pain, so much fear. Being a toddler, he made no comprehension of his distress or the blackness that accompanied it. He thought he merely lost consciousness or fell asleep.

Morning found him alone, cold, naked and bleeding. He tried to stand but his weakened legs buckled beneath him. Instead he curled up tightly in a ball as an attempt to warm himself since his inexperienced family did not think to place a blanket in the cellar with him. All he could do was sob with a throat rawer than before from shrieking and howling. He couldn't remember who hurt him so badly but the floor and walls were splashed with blood he identified as his own. Wounds marred his limbs and torso, making him believe the lup returned and maulled him while he slept. Lupin recalled the excruciating details of this first time all too vividly. Worse, he recollected that his child mind raced with wonderings as to who the perpetrators of his suffering were; never once did it cross his mind that his wounds were self-inflicted.

Everyone came in answer to his whimpering pleas that morning. Tată lifted his damaged body into his arms and carried him to his room where Mamă cast the healling charms the intern taught her, cleaned and bandaged the deeper gashes then put him to bed. Here he remained for three days recuperating from the self-maiming. During this time he noticed how his family watched over him, how one of them was always present even while he slept.

Alina in particular liked to stay with him. It was rare for her to stray from his side, cuddling him and Ursuz as if they were her own. But even his childish intellect told him something was amiss with her. The cloud of despair hanging low over his family completely enshrouded Alina. Mamă grew dreadfully alarmed in regard to the change in his beloved aunt and whispered her concerns into Tată's ear.

Lupin recounted clearly the day he was well enough to walk and Mamă allowed him to sit under the Reading Tree. She warily granted Alina permission to supervise him but insisted they go no further than the Tree, to never leave her sight. He was excited as he gathered Ursuz along with the Sherlock Holmes book he was about to finish and the Treasure Island one he planned on reading next then walked outside hand-in-hand with Alina.

Completely absorbed in his reading and gratefull to feel better, Remus relished at being outside in the hot late summer haze, enjoying the cold grass beneath his tummy. All of his wounds were healled within that short three-day time span although quite a few raised angry pink scars were left behind as reminders of what he could not remember.

"Remus, vino aici, micuţule verişor, raza meu de soare! Vino aici, odorul dragul meu!"

Without hesitation he stood and followed with perfect trust as Alina coaxed him further away from the house, down toward the edge of the nearby wood. Instinct warned him to not disobey Mamă and to remain beneath the Reading Tree but he did not believe Alina would cause him harm. She loved him, after all. With Ursuz clutched to his chest in the customary protective manner, the boy was confident his ursulet would never let anything bad happen to him hence, he thought nothing of whatever object Alina kept concealled behind her back. Perhaps it was more chocolate she wanted to smuggle to him between meals. Perhaps she did not want Mamă to catch her ruining his appetite. His tummy rumbled at the possibility.

A rabbit scurried from sight, capturing his attention and he laughed with a child's pleasure. Then he heard a strange metallic click! before Alina spoke.

"Te iubesc, micuţule verişor."

He turned to face her and gasped with shock, eyes gaped in disbelief.

Alina had a gun pointed at his chest.

"Tanti, no! Tanti, vă rog! Îmi para rău! N-am facut nimic rău! Nu înţeleg! Te iubesc, Tanti! Vă rog!"

He begged her. He told her that he was sorry, he did nothing wrong, that he didn't understand. He said that he loved her then further begged for his life.

"La revedere, scumpa mea."

As Alina's trigger finger drew back, Remus closed his eyes tight, held Ursuz even tighter and cringed in his wait for death.

But it never came. He suddenly found himself pressed hard against Mamă who stepped between him and the promised silver bullet. Tată placed himself between Mamă and Alina who spoke English for Mamă's benefit.

"I'm trying to save him from himself, Doru! Think of what he's become, how much he will suffer! We've seen this before! Just because he is family does not make him exempt from the hardships of what he is! Putting him out of his misery is the best thing for him! You know it yourselves! Don't be foolish!"

Sorin wrestled the gun away from Alina who then fainted in the excitement. Tată advised his siblings to depart for home, that there was nothing more for them to do now that the beast finished the carrion deed it plotted against the Lupescus. Sorin agreed, told Tată that he did not share Alina's views and promised they would take their leave in the morning.

Little Remus slept safely, wrapped in both of his parents' arms that night, Ursuz tucked away with him. Tată pacified his fears with fatherly affections, referring to him as mic miracolul meu: his little miracle. The phrase was repeated in his ear all night as Remus nestled closer against his father's broad, hairy chest.

His beloved Tanti Alina was the first in a procession of heart-wrenching betrayals Lupin endured at several points in his life. It was also the worst one. Like so many others before their discovery of his affliction, Alina loved him untill he was bitten. Afterwards she wanted to murder the helpless child she coddled in her arms each day and night, back before he was reduced to being less than human in her eyes.

The pain of these rotten memories gnawed at him like an ulcer, and was as insufferable as the hunger pains in his stomach. The ache in his veins, he knew, was sure to come next. Each menacing discomfort was eminently more harrowing than the last, the others not disappearing but instead masked by the new addition.

Worse, Lupin had no idea where he was heading; there was no place for him to go. Upon resignation from his teaching position, he chose to visit his beloved friend and recent escaped convict Sirius Black in the Brighton cave where Black sought refuge. He stayed there during the summer, reacquainting himself with his mischievous friend who taunted him about becoming a professor after the trouble they caused together while attending Hogwarts themselves. But regardless of the bonding, time and suspicion had torn a rift between them. Sirius was trying to deal with new and old insecurities which made him distrustfull, argumentative and increasingly violent. That rift never was more apparent than when Lupin took too long to find food for them one evening. Black, who was never violent toward his werewolf friend in the past, greeted him with misgivings which, when answered in an unsatisfactory manner, turned to sheer violence that sent Lupin fleeing. Despite the twelve year torment the poor man had been through, Lupin never anticipated his beloved friend to be capable of that unthinkable act.

"I'm so sorry, Moony!" Black had said desperately when he was found packing in haste. "I didn't mean it, you've got to believe me! I would never intentionally hurt you! You know that! It's just..."

"The years left us both too damaged," he finished in a tone that was forcefully soft. "I understand. I know what you've been through, that it takes time to get over things if you ever do at all. I won't strike you back, not even in self-defence. But I need time to think. For now, I must leave."

"Where are you going? When will you return?"

There was panic in the aggressor's voice upon seeing the results of his erroneous ways, a panic that wounded Lupin's soul to match the black and blue of his arms and the swollen, possibly fractured, cheekbone.

"I don't know," was all he muttered before he vanished beyond the mouth of the cave.

His last words to Sirius were verified true: he didn't know where he was going, for his hovel of a home also proved to be a burden of remembrance that he could not bring himself to return to. The conflict with Sirius happened nearly two weeks ago in mid-August. He had not seen Sirius since, nor did he presently care to.

A second option was the werewolf safehavens run by the Ministry, something he quickly ruled out owing to a past experience. While celebrating his eighteenth birthday at The Three Broomsticks, he argued with a drunken wizard who made fun of him after overhearing his excited discussion for future plans to Rosmerta. The wizard made disparaging remarks about werewolves before challenging Lupin to visit one of the safehavens, telling him: "It'll show you where you'll end up! It'll put you in your rightfull place!" Angry at the man's insolence and desperate to prove him wrong, though he knew deep down the jerk was right, Lupin decided to accept the challenge and visited one of the London safehavens. He'd always known how society viewed werewolves; as a werewolf he had no choice but to. His friends advised him to forget the wizard's unwelcome commentary but he couldn't. As all youths do, he needed to see those things with his own eyes.

It is said that the best way to learn is the hard way because it's usually certain that the mistake would never be repeated. After his experience, Lupin was sure to never visit another safehaven again regardless the circumstances he was under. He had few expectations upon his arrival that forlorn, lonely night: a decent meal, a warm bed, perhaps a hot shower before leaving in the morning. That was all he wanted.

What one gets, however, is almost never what one wants. Of course Lupin was not an exception to the rule. His decent meal was a chunk of hard, stale bread and watery, flavourless soup. The ancient wizard who managed the safehaven told him that the Ministry not only supplied the scant meals but discouraged the serving of meat or animal products for fear of inducing the werewolves' alleged natural hunger for flesh. Like Francine, they all believed him to be a mindless animal.

His warm bed was a rickety cot that left little room for him to turn upon and the hard iron bar situated across the centre of his back forewarned of muscles that would complain come morning. Apparently the Ministry believed that a werewolf should be grateful for having a cot at all since they were accustomed to the hard ground or floor like animals. The room he slept in was large and communal, shared with other werewolves seeking shelter from the storm raging outside. Most of them were old before their time, haggard shells who withered away in their Ministry-appointed poverty. Their visage panicked young Lupin. After all of the investment put into him, was he truly destined to be a fragment of a human being?

The much needed hot shower was completely nonexistent. Werewolves were filthy animals, after all, and according to the unreasonable majority, their stench merely reflected that they were beasts disguised as men. Moreover, the entire safehaven facility was dirty, cold and impersonal, offering not so much as the comfort of a blanket. Blankets, as it was explained to him when he requested one, were a luxury that werewolves took for granted. Instead of leaving them for others at the safehavens, most werewolves tended to steal them for use on the streets so the Ministry refused to deliver any more of them.

Lupin could not blame his fellow lycanthropes. He shared their guilt of thievery, which was how he acquired the skimpy blanket now tucked beneath his own arm. Its previous owner hung it out to dry on a wash line in late autumn when he saw it. Realising London was in for a harsh winter, he nicked the blanket out of pure necessity, the only reason compelling him to take from another...or perform objectionable acts of any sort. The blanket's ineptitude was his punishment.

It was pure outrage for anybody to have to resort to crime for survival and witnessing the state of his kind filled him with resentment as well as broke his heart. The generosity bestowed upon him by Hogwarts for seven ephemeral years served not only to strengthen and fatten his malnourished body but unintentionally gave him false security and hope for his future. At that moment he was enraged at his parents for protecting him from Alina's silver bullet, at Albus Dumbledore who treated him as an equal, at the Ministry for discriminating against his people, and at the werewolves themselves for not fighting the injustice.

Previous to his excursion to the safehaven he had never seen another werewolf and attesting to the living conditions they met was a rude dose of reality for the young man. He could not comprehend why his people were despised to the point of such ludicrous dismissal. How, he wondered, could a whole society force an entire group of people who were randomly cursed by Fate to suffer so much? Werewolves had no choice but to suffer in twofold: from lycanthropy and discrimination. True, their disease was infectious but there were precautions that prevented it from spreading, precautions the Ministry itself withheld.

He knew from first-hand experience the destitution, strife and prejudice fellow werewolves suffered but in the past he always had the support of his friends to shield him some. Of course their charity was unwanted by his fierce Gypsy preference to remain independent. He made his own way, relying on his friends as a very last resort. They were reluctant to wait for his askance yet respected his wishes, letting it be known that they would do or give anything for him if and when he asked then waited for the rare occasions when he would do so.

But now everyone was gone or rendered unreliable with their own problems and there was no-one for him to fall back on. Hence, the death-wish. He contemplated: freezing to death was an easy way to die. One's system would simply slow down then grow numb from the cold before slipping off into permanent sleep. Since he lacked the courage suicide required, allowing the elements to have their way with him would be idealistic. The wind, which briefly stopped, was again howling in his ear like an invisible lupine cousin, beckoning him to give up, to join the ranks of those it claimed. His body shivered violently in continual effort to keep warm but it was impossible to accomplish. Better to let the winter take him for it was certain to get the job done right.

One failled suicide attempt, which landed him in a St. Mungo's padded cell for a fortnight, was already under his belt. That botched suicide occurred soon after the hospital lifted its ban against werewolves and put him among its first lycanthropic customers. In spite of the spare attention they provided him, the hospital staff still expected him out of their establishment prior to the impending full moon, releasing him one week in advance of that night.

If he let the winter take its toll and froze to death on the streets the suicide would be chalked up to mere unfortunate circumstances. The only good werewolf in society's eyes was a dead werewolf, leaving him convinced that his death would be celebrated rather than mourned. The one person who he expected to care for him the most was the very reason he was on the streets tonight.

Lupin quaked, wanting to disown the history which plagued him. But this he could not do for it was his burden and his alone. These were the reasons he desired so adamantly to perish in the harsh winter temperatures. It seemed as if there was no escape and it was unbearable to continue.

Untill...

From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of fractional salvation. It wouldn't be much but it would stop the nagging hurt for a while. At the street corner a block away lingered the sketchy silhouette of a man he knew, one he currently gazed upon as his christ-figure. Lupin's strides hastened to meet him before the man chose to abandon his stationery post.

"Adam?" he called when he was close enough for the man to hear, his tone of voice stressing urgency. Even he recoilled at how desperate he sounded but he was desperate, after all. His unsteady hand reached out to grip the other man's shoulder.

"Adam? Adam, it's me."

Relief washed over him as the man turned to meet him, a scowl upon his craggy, unhandsome face. Yes, this was definitely Adam: middle-aged with a scar zig-zagging vertically over his blinded right eye, the results of a knife fight to settle a dispute over the rights to a prostitute ten years ago. Adam was a tough grafter, that was evident, but Lupin was surprised that the man managed to survive for as long as he did. Hell, Lupin surprised himself in those same regards with every passing day. They were all on borrowed time out on the savage London streets, every one of them realised that. Lupin was still no exception and being a werewolf handicapped him further.

"Oh. Yes. Lupin, innit?" growled Adam in mockery. "Christ, get in a scuffle lately?" When Lupin did not respond, Adam asked: "Wot do you want?"

As if you didn't know, thought the werewolf who fought against a flinch at the distastefull tone with which the word you was pronounced. Rather than responding in an equally offensive way, Lupin grinned both with shyness and slyness. In spite of being a werewolf he knew not to bite the hand that fed him. Or had the power to give him what he wanted.

"A warm bed first comes to mind," he replied. "I can't seem to sleep with the wind driving straight through me."

Adam glared at the other man with utter disdain.

"I thought you werewolves 'ad a tol'rance for the cold," he snarled. "Wolves sleep out in the open durin' the winter, even allowin' themselves ta be blanketed by the snow."

Lupin offered a polite smile this time.

"I see someone's done his homework."

"One 'as to when 'is liege is a Dark creature."

Lupin suppressed a grimace at Adam's casual acknowledgement of what he was.

"Yes, well, if I was presently in my wolf form that may very well be an option but tonight I am only a man."

Adam rolled his eyes with contempt.

"That's open for debate, innit? Jus' wot is it you want, Lupin? I'm too busy for games an' yer too old ta be a rent-boy."

"As I said, I can't sleep. The dreams are worse tonight," he informed, doing his best to ignore the fact that Adam knew precisely which nerves to hit. "The memories just...won't...go away."

Confessing a weakness was something which always unsettled Lupin. It was bad enough that learning of his condition armed others with common knowledge of general weaknesses without offering his personal ones as well. Adam was not the sort of person anybody should give such information to for he was certain to use it to his advantage whenever he felt the need arise.

Adam's sigh was more like a death rattle of grievous annoyance. The werewolf thought the man must've had a touch of pneumonia or, at the very least, congested lungs.

"Is it shelter for the night ya seek," Adam demanded to know, "or do ya wish ta stop the mem'ries?"

"Both would be appreciated," tested Lupin with a sheepish expression for it never hurt to ask.

"Ya cannot afford both, Lupin, I know ya well."

"Truth is I can't afford either," he admitted sourly.

"I din't think ya could. Untill ya can..."

Adam shrugged Lupin's hand from his shoulder as if it was a cockroach and took a few steps away but the needy werewolf grabbed the retreating man by the coat sleeve.

"Wait!" Lupin cried. "I can pay! In...other ways."

Now it was pure disgust with which Adam glared at him.

"I thought as much," jeered the thug. "Yer pathetic, Lupin. Aren't ya even ashamed of wot ya do?"

"Yes, but I do what I must. I have plenty of time to regret it later."

Adam smirked nastily.

"Believe me, you will."

Scanning the premises for any prying eyes, Adam accosted Lupin roughly by the wrist then pulled him further along the street. The tawny haired man put up no resistance and trailled after the other with a mixture of emotions. All that mattered was he would soon be free from the past that tormented him.

Adam yanked him into an alley: dark, empty, windowless to ensure there would be no-one who could witness this defilement. Whose defilement it was exactly was disputable. Lupin noted several things about the alley that did not make it extraordinarily different than any other alley he was previously in yet the attributes absolutely screamed at him this time. In spite of the familiar scenario, the details were all anew as if this was a first-time performance for him. Rubbish and carelessly discarded bins decorated the pavement and the omniscient aroma of urine saturated the small space. The most obvious thing he noted because it made him feel cornered was that there was only one way in and out of the alley. He felt suffocated, like an animal trapped in a brick and mortar cage. The streetwise manipulation of this loathsome man weighed heavily upon him, making him feel as if he had two choices: lie there and die or chew his own leg off to regain freedom. Lupin was a stubborn survivalist. Contrary to his prior death-wish, he chose the chance to live.

The sound of metal dragging down over metal teeth resounded in his ears and though he wasn't looking directly at the man, Lupin saw Adam fumble with his jeans in his peripheral vision. Then the man reached over, clutched a fistfull of his wavy, unkempt tresses and forced him down upon his knees.

With each passing day Lupin found himself doing more things that compromised his dignity. There were other options for him to obtain what was needed but none were more profitable than servicing randy clientele in this manner. It was also the quickest, easiest way; all he needed to do was go through the mindless physical mechanics of the act while pretending his performance was on someone he loved or at least cared about.

Steadying himself upon his knees in the centre of glittering broken glass, Lupin's volant fingers worked to remove from its cloth prison that part of Adam's anatomy which promoted his disgrace. The werewolf felt queasy as he set to the oral task he had become so proficient in.

He felt it each time he did this: the fibre of his being unravelling like a neglected Oriental rug once revered for its beauty but now reduced to a frayed version of its former glory. Not that anyone had ever found him beautiful in the first place. He had potential before the bite. Each time he sold himself as an anonymous plaything for others he thought of how he disappointed his parents. Whether he knelt in an alley before a man or positioned in an indecent way while a trick pounded into his unreceptive body, his mind always wandered to them, seeking comfort from their memory.

His Mamă, whose love for him flourished rather than drained after the bite. His Tată, whose Muggle mind drowned in whiskey to forget that his only child was condemned to be what the Lupescus spent generations hunting and destroying yet was always ready to protect him from anything. He knew that regardless of his own condition and Tată's inebriated state, his father loved him very much. He was always his little miracle.

"Uhhh!" groaned Adam, shoving further down Lupin's throat and yanking his hair harder in the process.

Lupin clenched his eyes shut, refusing to gag as he clung to thoughts of his loved ones. James Potter, who came to his rescue more than a few times when he was being bullied by a random Slytherin in the shady nooks and crannies of Hogwarts. Lily Evans Potter, who was his redemption in so many secret ways that he never imagined possible...or dared to admit to any one else. Albus Dumbledore, who risked everything by ignoring every law the Ministry issued against the betterment of werewolves to grant him the right to be educated.

Then there was the one responsible for his presence on the street tonight: the infamous Sirius Black. As turbulent as their relationship was, Lupin loved Sirius most of all. Black had always been a reckless free-spirit in need of as much compassion and understanding as Lupin himself. To say that spending twelve years torn apart from the man he adored, convinced he was guilty of such heinous betrayal was torture would be an understatement. It was as hellish as if he himself was locked away rotting in Azkaban.

With Sirius' innocence freshly discovered, their reunion was as much deliverance as it was an open wound. Despite being ravaged by his imprisonment, Sirius remained timeless in beauty and sophomoric in nature. Lupin, changed and jaded in his adult years, was simultaneously vexed by and gratefull for Sirius' consistency. He hated and loved the man in an ambivalent whirlwind that, compounded with their histories, prevented them from any true reconcile. As hard as they tried, it became more impossible with each passing day, especially with Sirius prone to flashbacks and splurges of habitual violence which had been a necessary evil for his survival in prison.

"Fucking slut!" hissed Adam, breaking the tormenting memories as he moved faster and harder. "Filthy little whore!"

Adam seized Lupin by the ears to anchor his head in place before ululating carelessly into the night, spilling his release down the werewolf's throat. Lupin choked and gagged but held steady as he managed to swallow completely. He had to. That was his job.

Placated more by his control over the destitute man than by the despondent act itself, Adam finished then shoved Lupin backwards with additional satisfaction. Landing backwards to fall flat on his arse over the jagged pieces of broken glass and Merlin only knew what type of stains, Lupin gazed up at Adam, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Look at me now, Mamă, Tată! Look what became of your little miracle!

Street survival depends on how good one is at acting. Lupin excelled at it so well that he deserved a BAFTA. The bite coerced him into being an actor for the rest of his life. The ability to veil his feelings behind benign, jovial smiles fared him well thus far in life. Prostituting himself provided him with another nomination, for he had to pretend that he enjoyed whatever humilities the client bestowed upon him. The current moment was added to the list as he offered a fake smile to the hardened man above him.

"If Umbridge knew tha' werewolves 'ave a talent for suckin' cock it'd be one more form of employment ya would be out of," Adam gruffly stated, tucking himself back in.

"Thanks," Lupin emoted sarcastically, not bothering to conceal his bitterness.

"Now then. Wot can I do for you, Lupin?"

Again, a choice: receive remuneration for his services by getting off the streets and into some place safe and warm for the night or be alleviated from the nightmares which disrupted his sleep and would trail him wherever he placed his head. In his mind there was no choice. He was aware of what he needed, what his body honestly craved.

"Make yer choice, wolf, I don' 'ave all night."

Adam spat the word wolf with such scorn that Lupin grimaced.

"I really need it, Adam," Lupin rasped. "I can't bear being without it. Give it to me. Please."

Adam sighed with exertion.

"Very well, then. Why some one would make that choice is beyond me. But it's your choice to make."

Lupin watched with raw hunger as Adam reached into a pocket, withdrew a tiny zip-lock bag filled with a dark brown powder and tossed it to him. Lupin reflexively caught it and immediately raised it to eye level so he could inspect the precious contents.

"Satisfied?" drawled the drug dealer.

"For now," agreed Lupin. "Thanks."

"May all your dreams be pleasant, Lupin."

But Lupin paid no mind to the clacking which announced Adam's exit from the alley. Like shoving sweets into his mouth to ignore discomfort with Alina when he was young, he busied himself with opening the illegal packet and ingesting the entire amount. Spindrifts of newly falling flecks of snow twirled about him like friendly fairies aglow in the artificial light of the streetlamps, frantic with their efforts to warn him against his continual poor judgement.

It was true. There were indeed many things Lupin needed. His severely exhausted body needed to lie in a warm bed so he could be adequately reinvigourated. He needed a steady diet of wholesome meals to end the malnutrition he suffered, thus regaining strength. He needed a shelter to stay in rather than being evicted from various locations he selected. He needed that coveted hot shower to wash away all the stink and grime put on from the streets, to cleanse his humanity.

But more than all of that, Lupin still managed to find one thing more urgent than even those basic necessities. He needed peace from the past, even if it was only temporary. He needed to banish the piercing bruise beneath his eye and the reality of how it got there. He needed to stop feeling the pain, stop seeing the faces, stop remembering all of the tragedy, stop with his self-pitying, stop being the object of so much hatred, even if it was but for an infinitesimal amount of time. He needed an escape and he got one. He forwent his opportunity to be off the streets just to have it.

Remus Lupin chased a different type of dragon than his Mamă chased before he was born and he followed that dragon as it dove into the forgetfull waters of Lethe where he happily drowned.