Chapter 1 : Alone Wolf
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They were gone…all of them. It had been over a year since it had happened, but the loneliness was only really setting in now.
He missed them. Yes, even Sirius, though he wouldn’t admit that to anyone but himself.
You should be happy, he told himself. Voldemort is gone. “Yeah, but so are all four of your best friends,” he muttered, breaking the silence that had settled in the room.
Remus stood, considering the television across the room. After a minute or so of serious contemplation, he decided he wasn't in any sort of proper mood to watch the muggles squawk in their excitement for the night's celebration. Walking, instead, to the kitchen area of his meagre flat, he lifted the last of the Wolfsbane Potion to his lips, shuddering in disgust as he swallowed it down. Ew.
“Damn.” Remus caught sight of the clock on the wall and sighed, speaking aloud as though he wasn't the only one there. “Better get ready and go, I suppose." He grabbed a ragged blanket off the chair, a firewhiskey out of the refrigerator, and put on his warmest coat and worn Gryffindor scarf. After making sure the door to his flat was locked--Not that there’s anything worth stealing.--Remus looked at the clock once more and disapparated.
A moment later and Remus appeared in the centre of the lounge of the Shrieking Shack. It was his first time back since leaving Hogwarts, looking much the same as it had his last moon there, albeit dustier. With a flick of his wand he lit a happy fire in the hearth, dropping the blanket on the floor nearby to keep it warm; he wouldn’t be needing it until morning. He shrugged off his coat and pulled a chair over to the only window that wasn’t boarded up to watch the sunset.
He hated this time of the month. Not that turning into a werewolf was fun in any way, but having the other three marauders had made it bearable for the man. He popped open his firewhiskey and took a swig. He wouldn’t get drunk; that could have consequences of monstrous proportions. He just needed a little something to momentarily take his mind off his loneliness--the burn of the alcohol proving just distracting enough as he watched the sun slowly set over 1982. One of his least favourite years by far…
It was over a year ago that they all left. And he had never felt so alone.
“Happy New Year,” he said to the empty room. Early as it was, it was the last time he'd be speaking for the night. Remus looked out the window of the Shrieking Shack at the full moon, concealed by numerous clouds. As an early batch of fireworks lit up the sky, he stepped away from the window, tipping back the last of his firewhiskey. His neatly folded clothes were placed on a chair so they wouldn’t tear when he transformed and, as his body ripped and pulled and stretched through its change, he silently thanked the wonderful wizard who invented the Wolfsbane Potion and the fact that he had managed to get his hands on this month.
Remus stood on his four feet and shook out his fur. He didn’t remember the tunnel to the Whomping Willow being so small. The wolf turned to stare at the moon for a long moment before letting loose a long, sorrowful howl. Happy New Year, indeed.
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