Remus Lupin leaned cautiously forward, reaching for the bottle of cheap fizzy wine that was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. His hand waved limply at it sending its empty companion toppling to the floor with a clunk. Eventually he managed to clamp his hand around the neck of the bottle and with a despairing glance at the empty glass in his other hand, rose the bottle to his lips, missed and inserted it into his ear.

"Sh-hic!" He put down the glass, used his spare hand to guide the bottle safely to his lips and took a number of deep gulps. He tipped his head further back to accommodate the booze and discovered as his head hit the sofa that his balance had made off with the contents of the first bottle.

He began to laugh at his stupidity till the tears ran down his face. He then realised he was crying and with that realisation came the one that he had a lot to cry about dammit! Werewolf, poor, failing potions, mooning over an uninterested party and to top it all Doctor Who had been cancelled for coverage of AN EARTHQUAKE. IN ASIA! So what if their lives had crumbled to dust? Four days ago Sirius had winked at him - and then smiled! And then looked down Mary's top. He snivelled and prodded his knob sadly.

Carefully Remus guided the bottle back to his mouth once more only to find that no matter how far back he tipped his head no fluid was escaping into his mouth. WHY! He sobbed pitifully at his eternal misfortune.

He reached out to place the bottle back on the table in front of him, blindly seeking solid surface through fizzy tears. When solid surface didn't materialise he removed one hand from the bottle and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes.

Somehow the solid surface of the table he was seeking was now above him; he was looking up at it from the floor. Why oh, why did bad things keep happening to him? Fresh hot tears began to fall; he hoped his mother had 'flood damage' listed on her home insurance.

Perhaps some suitably morose music would help him through this difficult time? He rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself onto hands and knees. That made Remus dizzy enough to decide crawling was the safest option and scraped his cheek along the corner of the coffee table as he made his way towards the radio sitting on the sideboard.

He fiddled with the buttons and knobs uncertainly for a moment until music suddenly blasted out and he fell backwards in surprise. He blinked at it for a second then searched for a different station, he wasn't in the mood for the Bee-Gees.

He paused as he heard the introductory notes of Eric Carmen's new song All By Myself. His mother loved that song and always turned it up when it came on while he protested it was self-pitying nonsense. But now, right now, he understood every damn word it said, it called out to him, surely it was written for him? It was like a mini-epiphany.

When I was young… Remus was young…

I never needed anyone… well, ok that didn't really fit but he'd think of something for that later…

And making love was just for fun… He wished! Making love… he presumed that must be fun…and suddenly there was no stopping them. Image after image of a lithe young man, naked, writhing, contorted in ecstasy…

Remus shook his head trying to clear it of the explicit images, but that made him dizzy so instead he twisted back onto his knees and began the long crawl towards the kitchen and the last bottle of wine that called for him from the side.

Living alone… He was feeling very lonely.

I think of all the friends I've known and when I dial the telephone, nobody's home… Friends, his friends. Where were they now? On holiday or having fun together... without him. No one wanted to be with him tonight.

All by myself… He was all by himself. Oh misery.

After weeks of agonizingly slow progress the wine bottle towered over him tormenting him as he lay sprawled on the ground beneath, a poor mockery of a man worshiping his god.

He reached up to grab onto the counter and pulled himself up on his knees. He seized the bottle and thrust it into the air in an instant of triumph before remembering nothing went his way and he was very depressed. He slumped back to the floor feeling utterly dejected.

He wished he didn't have to get drunk alone. No doubt Sirius and James were having a whale of a time together right now doing cool things he couldn't do because he wasn't cool and they probably didn't even like him anyway.

Well fuck 'em.

He eased out the cork with a satisfying 'pop' and drank with a purpose.

After a second he made his very unsteady way back to the living room.

Sometimes I feel so insecure…

Remus sniffed, he was so pathetic and ugly and poor. No wonder he didn't want him. Beautiful, perfect him. Why, if Remus looked and spoke and moved like that he wouldn't look twice at weeds like himself.

But he wanted him so much.

Love so distant and obscure remains the cure… No, no cure, no cure for Moony, no love for Moony.

And the song knew, the song understood. It was channelling his desperation and painful yearning until his heart was trying to claw its way out of his chest!

He forced himself into a standing position. Threw his head back. Took deep angry breaths. The music swelled and his chest swelled and he leapt onto the coffee table. Arms spread wide, reaching to the stars, no, the star, wine bottle gripped tight as he opened his mouth and belted out…

"ALL BY MYSEEEEELF,

DON'T WANNA BE, ALL BY MYSELF ANYMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE."

He reached and reached for all his worth, clawing at the sky, believing the song could empower him, help him grip that star in his sweaty, needy fist. His arms swung wildly, wine frothing and spraying every which way; libations to the gods of love or lust or whoever would help him wrap his hands around him. His too small t-shirt rose up his stomach, and his slightly too big pyjama bottoms slipped down around his hips but he cared not; if his call was answered he would not need them anyway.

A stray splash of wine hit the window and dripped downwards making little foaming rivers, obscuring the view of the garden.

The darkness had robbed the bushes and flowers in their beds of all colour leaving everything black, everything except two brightly shining grey orbs fixed on the scene through the window.

Had Remus not been so engrossed in his performance and cast his eyes to the side he would have beheld a trickle of cheap wine washing away the image of Sirius Black before it melted back into the darkness.

A/N: Reviewers will get to take full advantage of their very own drunken Moony.