Chapter 1
Remus shivered. It was a frosty November and the leaves of the Whomping Willow had begun to loose their leaves that had turned auburn and gold over the month, melting into mulch underfoot. A haze had fallen over the Hogwarts grounds, the sky covered by a blanket of clouds dark qgainst a darker nightfall. It should be a nice evening. He should be curled up by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. It shouldn’t have to be this way. He hadn't stopped hopelessly hoping and perhaps he never would. He should be normal, not walking across the grass towards the tree that tried to swipe at anyone who got near it, its branches, thinner towards its end like spindly fingers, that stung if you got too close. Maybe, if he were like the others, he'd been in the library perhaps, studying for whatever was in the upcoming OWLs, not staring at his shoes as Madam Pomfrey said the same thing she always said. That she would be there to get him in the morning. That Dumbledore would be thinking of him. And that he would get through this. He always felt a horrible ball of impatience and rage stir up within him when she said this. Which was even worse because he really liked the school nurse. It was because of the transformation, she later explained, after a particularly mean-spirited response to these pieces of assurances. She said the transformation heightened emotions, particularly negative ones. Sirius had quipped to him once that he was like a girl on her cycle when this would happened (which had left James is hysterics) and had made Remus chuckle. It was always easier to joke about it when he was weeks away, and when he was with his friends. Not now though. And he was fairly certain girls didn't feel a white hot rage inside them that made them think of incredibly dark things. The memories of what his altered mind had wanted. To tear, to eviserate, to kill. He wished he could remember traversing the grounds with his fellow Gryffindors properly. He always awoke with an inate feeling that he had been among friends, good company. But the wolf inside of him always took over, pushing the person towards the back. Still, he had recollection and recognition of the dog, the stag and the rat. If he hadn't been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he might have noticed the Slytherin boy watching him and the matron from across the green.
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Sirius grinned as he hurried down the steps towards the archway into the grounds. There were less students around now, many cramming for various mock exams that would be taking place before Christmas. Who's idea that was, but he didn't much care. It wasn't as if he needed to study much. He passed a group of Ravenclaws as he hurried on, excitement coursing through his veins. He loved full moons. The exileration when he, James and Peter had all successfully transformed for the first time in that old shack would stay with him forever. He grinned. Shrieking Shack. Everyone thought it was haunted. If they only knew the truth. He always had an unusually keen sense of smell, loving the smell of Hogwarts, the aroma from the kitchens, now pumpkins, spice and honey and the general smell of the castle, of wood, stone and something he couldn't place but was so just...Hogwarts. When he turned into a dog that night at the beginning of the year he could smell...damn near everything. He had almost given up the game up by choosing not to transform back just yet upon returning to the castle, barking in delight, forgetting his fear at the temporary disorientation at being eye level with James before suddenly shrinking down to see his waist. He had told them over and over again that he could have just said it was Canine, Hagrid's dog if anyone asked and Peter had reminded him that Canine was much too old to make such a loud bark which had prompted James to do an impression of a wheezing dog that had sent the group into delirium. He wasn't a fan of how Peter and James' robes had turned from that brilliant red to a grey though.
A small part of him had felt bad at how he had actually shivered with revulsion when he had seen Peter's transformation. His form was a rat and truth he told, Sirius had never liked them. Peter himself had sqeaked rather mournfully at the realisation but James had picked him up and told him that rats had bad PR because of the muggle plague before christening him Wormtail. Peter hadn't much liked that either, but Sirius had later told him it was either that or ankle biter. He had been called Padfoot. James had put him down and transformed too into a magnificent stag and Sirius could feel the envy rolling off of him in waves. Upon their return, Sirius had called him 'Prongs' after one of his antlers had temporarily gotten stuck on a tree root. They had scurried, trotted and loped out of the shack and had been very relieved to realise that they could they still communicate. Remus as a wolf had been hard to read but they could feel the familiarity and follow the animal instinct. It had been daunting to see him in his wolf form. He was big, a little scrawny but long limbed. His eyes glowed and his fangs dripped with saliva, sharp claws clicking on the rotting wood. The danger rolled off of him in waves but the recognition that Sirius supposed only animals could understand had reassured everyone. Then the fun began. They would race around the grounds into the forest, even into Hogsmeade. The night air rippling through his black fur, how he could run, how he could run. He had seen some of the forests inhabitants too, centaurs and pixies. Oh he wouldn't trade it. Wouldn't trade it for the world.
So when he arrived at the green watching Madam Pomfrey walking back into the castle, and saw a familiar looking hook nosed figure, annoyance and anger flashed through him. He was here. Again. Always spying. He was asking for it at this point. He wanted to get them expelled, he knew it. Wanted to catch them doing something incriminating. A smile creeped over his handsome features and he tucked his hands into his pockets. An idea was brewing, tickling his mind. What Snivellus wants, Snivellus gets.