"Oh come on." I rolled my eyes at her.
"You could have at least attempted to be convincing. Nice acting though."

She looked at me as if I were mad and that it was shocking that I didn't believe her and of course I didn't.

Werewolves were beasts. It was common knowledge that people with the curse live with it everyday, described as looking animalistic even in their human form. It wasn't something that could be controlled. Sharp teeth and a sharp temperament to match. They were described as not even being close to human once contracting the curse, just using the body as a disguise that meant they could walk amongst us.

The books I had read referenced studies on werewolves, scientific not just speculation. Some werewolves could change without the full moon and some couldn't, it was the same as some wizards being powerful and other not, some studies suggested. These beasts were inherently blood thirsty regardless and were driven by a predator instinct to hunt for sport.

Something that was fascinating in the studies was the fact they weren't considered pack animals, often hunting alone. Despite being closely described as contorted wolves. Though there were the rare occasions where groups of werewolves would be spotted together, one occasion being in Russia in the wilderness. They were never disturbed and have little sightings.

The specialists said that human behaviour was mimicked by the beasts, as a hunting mechanism and all characteristics of the wizard before being affected by the curse was dead. Vanished and eradicated by the poison that now infested and warped their DNA.

A number of years back a few school children went missing on a camping trip. Muggles. It was discovered that they had been baited by a werewolf. His picture was printed in all of the wizarding papers. He was grotesque, hairier than a usual man and an evilness surrounding his energy. You could see he wasn't human but a beast disguised as one. The curse was sucking all life out of the body he inhabited, frail looking though possessing obvious strength. A walking contradiction. An old tired looking man but a strong beast on demand.

Werewolves weren't people. They were a walking disease that deteriorates the mind and body of a wizard and the only way they can continue to survive is to kill and breed. Like dogs.

There were speculations that the existence of werewolves (and vampires too) was to act as population control for the human species. Both muggle and wizarding kind alike. Who better to hunt us but the combination of man and beast? Though that theory begs the question how they began to exist and if it was planned, like when a predator is introduced to an environment where wildlife is taking over and destroying crops and eating the wilderness away. Introduced to promote balance within nature. It was interesting to think about but didn't change the fact werewolves were a blood thirsty threat and were often mistaken as wizards.

It made sense why the ministry were beginning to consider a compulsory list of who was infected but it was ludicrous to insinuate that he could be on the list.

"Artemis I'm not lying. Remus Lupin is a werewolf." She whispered angrily at me.

"As I said, you're welcome to visit whenever you want." I tapped her address book and raised from the seat I was sitting in.

"I have to pack my things and go sign some paperwork. Thank you for all the help." I said politely though signalling I was done with the conversation. I felt beyond irritated with her storytelling.

To claim someone was a werewolf was beyond dramatic and she was just trying to frighten me from never speaking to that group again, because she knows that simply being a troublemaker wasn't a deterrent. Which is all they were.

I left her at the table gobsmacked as I held my head high and walked away. I wasn't going to just believe viscous rumours, especially ones that could destroy someone's life. It was reckless and childish of her, and I expected better.

I had to be the bigger person and walk away.

-

It had been two weeks since I left Narcissa after the serious accusation and she hadn't visited me since. Though she did send me a letter that simply provided me an address to contact her through, so that she wasn't caught speaking to me. Which I understood and was relieved I actually had some way to contact her.

She was being stubborn and so was I. I knew I was however and doubted she interpreted her behaviour as such.

Anyway. I'm sure we'll begin speaking soon, we always do. Just sisterly pettiness.

I just finished washing up in my new flat and had become one of the people that hung their random washing out of the window. A cardigan currently drying in the sun, which was supposed to go away at the end of the week.

Showers coming and spoiling the sunshine streak we had been blessed with.

I glanced around the place and appreciated. For the hundredth time this week and it was only Tuesday morning. I just felt so proud that I lived here and how drastic my life had changed.

It was insane that next Sunday it would have been a month since my great escape.

Almost a month, already. It had flown by.

I felt like a completely different person. Stronger and not because I felt I had to be.

As much as I was proud of myself, it was also horrifying looking back at who I was only a short time ago and thinking about what this random Tuesday could have played out if I didn't leave.

I could have had a wedding dress appointment today. Being forced into awful traditional garments and layers upon layers of lace that I would eventually be stitched into.

But instead I had just finished washing up my plates from the night before, and the dullness of the task felt like freedom. Most people wouldn't even consider being able to clean up after yourself in your own time as something someone could long for. But here I was smiling big at the most mundane tasks, because I could do them whenever and however I wanted.

I still was taking each step slowly, not wanting to push myself too hard and wanting to spread out each achievement so that they didn't overlap. Meaning I could appreciate each one individually and give my accomplishments the recognition they deserved.

I still hadn't looked into getting a job, and didn't feel like I needed to for a while. Fortunately.

I still hadn't reached out to anyone but talking to Sonny and meeting his partner, Dorcas.

Who was as sweet as Sonny described. We still haven't yet had a proper in depth conversation, only meeting briefly and in passing. She seemed quite shy and reserved and I didn't mind that because, I'm the same.

She had dark silky black hair, tanned skin and amber eyes. She looked like she could be a modern day cleopatra. I was surprised by her beauty when I first saw her, not that I thought Sonny was exaggerating, but that she looked she could be on a cover of a muggle magazine. Even having height in her favour too, she was a bit taller than Sonny and I believe he quite liked that instead of feeling insecure.

I hoped that we would become friends with time instead of polite neighbours.

They both (Sonny and Dorcas) agreed they wouldn't tell anyone that I was living there, until I was ready to have the information public, even telling the nice bartender Mary that I was still considering the place.

I just wanted the opportunity to approach people in my own time. It's a privilege I have never been able to relish in before, working to my own agenda and within my own timeframe. I was allowing myself the time to take each step slowly and as gracefully as I could. I felt I deserved to be able to take my time.

Granted, I have had many years to ponder whether I wanted to contact old friends and how I wanted to do it. Though I also gave up those thoughts and disregarded those plans some time ago too. My life has changed drastically since the last time I wondered how I'd approach introducing myself again and what I would or wanted to say.

There is no rush.

Roughly eleven letters scrunched up in the bin within the past week. Drafts that felt either too insincere or sounding too much as if I were begging them to accept me again. Finding the balance and the right words was difficult.

There is no rush.

I've had a number of nightmares since speaking to Narcissa about...Remus. With the sharp teeth of a wolf, covered in crimson blood. He was still a boy in my dreams. Which I realised he wasn't anymore, not being able to wrap my head around what he may look like now.

His name was beginning to feel easier to say without the heaviness sinking into my body. The thought of him crossed my mind every other day, becoming more normal as I forced myself to repeat his name in my mind.

I couldn't help but give Narcissa's claim a moment of deep thought here and there, which I believe was the reason for the nightmares.

A werewolf.

It seemed impossible and offensive until I forced myself to reflect back on the past, attempting to understand why Narcissa just believed it instead of revoking the idea like I did.

He was covered in scars, which he claimed to not be from punishment.

He was always sick at some point each month, always looking worse for wear and taking a few days off lessons. His sick days could have lined up with a full moon. I never paid close enough attention to know for sure.

His attitude would change around a similar time. Something that always felt confusing to me. He'd be sweet one day and distant the next, almost cocky. I wondered about the possibility of whether werewolves were affected similarly to a menstrual cycle, hormonal. The idea however seemed laughable if I was to compare it to the legitimate books I had read.

All reflections seemed to be a reach. All easily explained by another reason.

His scars could have easily been a result of clumsiness, though I had never seen anyone else with such as many as he had. That was more plausible.

His could have simply had a shocking immune system, or allergies. No one bat an eyelid at his few days off here and there.

His attitude change could have also simply been ... the fact he was a teenage boy.

All of those explanations were much believable than him being a werewolf.

I didn't start believing it could be the truth until I had a cold sweated flashback around three in the morning the other day.

How angry Sirius got at me, in potions class once where he thought I wanted werewolves to be kept in confinement like zoo animals. Which wasn't true. The idea of a compulsory list of werewolves and vampires has been circulating for years and the only reason I believe someone wouldn't agree with the principle of it...is if they knew someone who would be affected by being on the list.

I remember they all got irrationally distant with me, especially considering I thought my views on the matter were actually pretty fair. I never believed they should be punished or locked away, but just known.

Moony.

I had imagined the nickname had been influenced by his love of astrology, never considering maybe his love of astrology was to keep a watchful eye on the moon cycle.

A werewolf.

Roughly eleven scrapped and disregarded letters were in my bin and two were scribbled out on my table because what do you say to an old friend and to a possible werewolf?

The possibility of it being true, which with each small detail being remembered about him was seeming more likely, added to my stress.

I also didn't know why it made me more curious about reaching out and not afraid or cautious.

I was wondering whether I could ask Sonny for advice about it all. Where to begin. He never stopped knowing him and the more words I began to write the more I began to realise it wasn't my speciality.

I needed to see him. Not send a letter.