Disclaimer - I make no money, I own nothing that you recognize, the usual rigamarole.
Author's Note - This story will attempt to follow Remus's life from age five (the year he is bitten) to age 33 (the summer after he leaves his teaching position). Please notify me if you see any mathematical errors - I've tried to work it all out, and checked my work as well as I can,but math doesn't really make sense to my poor little brain. There will be several chapters. Chapter one is a brief introduction, set in the summer of 1994 (we assume that PoA begins in '93). Chapter two follows the years 1964-70. Chapter three focuses on Remus's school years, 1971-77. Chapter four is not yet written but will encompass the years from graduation to James and Lily's deaths; chapter five will introduce us to the next ten years, during which Remus is introduced to Fenrir Greyback and the werewolf packs of the United Kingdom. That's the prognosis at the moment, anyway. Chapter two will be up in about ten minutes, chapter three next week. The rest should follow in pretty quick order. If you've stuck with me so far, you're up for sainthood and I owe you a hug. Please enjoy.
Counting Beads
Chapter One: An Introduction
I'm never going to come back to this support group, never again, even though I helped found it. It was ridiculous of me to expect to find comfort here. There are eighteen people seated in the circle of folding chairs. A small child plays on the floor, oblivious to the pain around her. Among these are one man partially blinded by a mummy's curse, two women who lost their family to the madness of the Cruciatus, one recently bitten werewolf, one me. I was instrumental in bringing these people here, posting carefully, discreetly worded fliers in cafes and bookshops, then applying the Muggle-repelling charms to make sure we had the sort of curses we knew how to work with. I won't come back. I've been living with this so long that discussing it only makes it worse. These good people with their problems would draw back from someone who confesses to having been a werewolf since the age of five, having nearly murdered a Hogwarts student or four, hidden my condition, lived with this for twenty-eight years. People are repelled by lonely people, afraid that they will be depended upon. No one quite feels up to that.
Introductions. Noises of sympathy. The question: "Tell us your name, age, problem, and a little about your life." My turn comes soon.
Oh, how much I could tell them, what understanding I could offer. Especially to the new werewolf; him I could help. Thirty-three years of life, and I could give them all some understanding. I'm watching the reactions, though, and I know they will not accept it.
But even if I wanted or needed to tell them about my life, how could I express it? "A little about your life" is a mockery. How to separate out what to tell? Impossible. Impossible to say it and tell the truth.
TBC