Remus winced, the subtle flicker of the candles' flame dramatized the gloomy expression of his, the crease of resentment amidst his eyes.

His corner in the common room was dark enough for the scarce candlesticks to look like stars in a dense and cloudy night, yet he wouldn't pull away from the wooden desk before his quill drunk all the ink from its vessel and his thoughts could be spread out around the piece of parchment.

He feared his self was doomed. This month, his thoughts had come undone fiercely and had waited for the peak of the moon to creak open and come true, not any encyclopedia or documentation book would tell him why was this passage of days so uneasy and full of perturbation.

Nonetheless, there was nothing else he could do except to repent and ask forgiveness for his incomprehensible actions, which came far too sharp in the form of claws and across the limbs of his friends, Sirius and James, a flicker of a flashback embodied in blood was enough to grasp the fact as why he hadn't seen them around, not even in his monthly stay in the infirmary.

And as for Peter, a squeak of his echoed in his mind every once he dragged a chair or a door, profusely thinking if he had been brute enough to squeeze him between something, the mere thought made him squirm.

Remus' mind was weak despite it all he had to be optimistic, and in his diaries, he planted prayers and mantras not for him but for his friends. His future had no fixing it was doomed and set, but the future of his friends was bright and full of hope.

This is why he obligated himself into writing letters of forgiveness. He didn't want to be seen as a beast, after all.