A/N: This story will be Boylove, RemusxSirius, later on. So if you're not into that sort of thing, just don't read it. There will be lemon in the future, just warning you. So...I'd really appreciate reviews, if you're willing.

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize!

Chapter 1; Nightmares

The floor was a blur of leaves, green and mottled brown, no match for the heavy paws stomping them into dust. He practically flew over the forest floor, exhilarated, panting in thickened bursts, desirous of one thing, and one thing only. He knew it like he knew his own howl, like he knew the raised map of scars that marked each time he couldn't have.

But tonight, he would get what he wanted. That much was certain.

Clearing the line of trees, the creature stopped, enhanced senses feeling about, sniffing at the air. Ah, just there. Delicious. Just the scent sent sparks across his vision, winking bright in the moon's light, and he could nearly see the clear route the smell set for him to follow. The path was laid out before him, a thrill chilling him to each brittle bone.

He was going to have, going to get. Going to taste.

Breaking through the line of trees and onward, he finally spotted the prey; a chubby toddler on curious legs, wandering out past bedtime, eyes wide and frightened like the rabbit he was. This was the food chain, after all, and the idiotic human child was right at the bottom. The wolf only had one thought on its mind. Kill, kill, kill. Blood. Rip and tear and make them hurt like you hurt, make them die. Jaw widening an impossible amount, there was a flash of fangs and an unearthly scream before everything went red.

Remus thought perhaps he had always had the nightmares.

He certainly couldn't remember a time when he hadn't after all, and he'd heard most people didn't have the same nightmare their whole lives, to the point that a night without them was something to celebrate.

He wondered how many other people –no, how many other teenage werewolves, not that he thought there were many of those- had to deal with dreams of being the wolf that had bit them. As he sat up in the darkness of the Gryffindor common room, groping around for sheets that suddenly seemed too hot and too chill at once, Remus realized something with startling clarity, something he had realized again and again, each night when the dream met him with open arms.

He had been scared to sleep for such a long time, but now he was going to meet the inevitable when he let it claim him. Meeting the truth.

That might as well be him. He could be that monster one day, destroying someone else's life. He'd already experienced the wolf's inherent bloodlust every month for the past ten years. Sure, at Hogwarts he had made friends for the first time, people who cared, who had accepted him despite his condition. But not even the Marauders could protect the fifteen-year-old from what he was inside, and not even they could comfort him when the dreams reached their peak, the wolf inside stirring with hunger while every ounce of Remus shivered with revulsion. Because they were separate, he and the wolf, or at least that was what he tried to tell himself. They had to be, didn't they? His reaction was proof of that, even if his logic was desperate.

Speaking of reaction…

Kicking the sweat-soaked sheets to the edge of his bed, Remus darted to the bathroom, trying to muffle his retching so the other boys didn't wake and realize he was puking his guts into the toilet.

Again.

Really, it was going too far. He'd be prematurely gray if he kept this up. Still, it was only at night when the visions visited him. During the day, all but one day a month, he could pretend he was normal. Could pretend he wasn't a monstrous beast just waiting to get out. Could pretend he wasn't a loathsome, horrible thing on the inside.

Could pretend to just be Remus. He probably even liked Remus. It was what Remus became that he couldn't stand.

Ugh. He was going crazier than Sirius's parents. Referring to himself in the third person again.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and sitting back on his haunches, Remus bitterly swiped at the tears threatening to escape from the corner of his eyes. He wasn't crying. Throwing up had just forced moisture out of his eyes. Teenage monsters didn't have the right to feel bad for themselves.

Reaching for a Jane Austin novel kept in the bathroom for this very purpose, Remus muttered a Lumos and settled in for a sleepless night, waiting for the next wave of nausea.

A/N: So! This is my first Remus/Sirius story. I don't completely know how it's going to go, but I have ideas. I also don't know if it's going to be top Remus or top Sirius, so anyone with ideas can say so in reviews. Thanks! The start is a little short, I know, but the next few chapters are longer. I just felt like I got my point across with this.