I, Hermione

I never imagined that my life would turn out like this. I can't say that I regret my choices however I am quite sure I am not proud of them though. Who could possible be proud of the life I have led thus far. I am nowhere that I thought I would be by my twenty sixth birthday. In Fact, I would say that I am further behind than when I graduated from school. Yet another farce in which I once believed in. All those years I spent buried in a book, thirsty for knowledge, and eager to satisfy. All for not. What a fool I see myself as. Cleverness led me to nowhere so it appears. It only seems to matter who your friends are. That is the way most people seem to get what they want.

My friends.

I was abnormal in friendship in reflection of my abnormalities in the rest of my life. It didn't seem odd at the time that the only close friends I had where male. I never thought a thing of it until now. I did learn a good deal about life from my friends, however. Harry, whom I loved as a dear brother, taught me never to give up no matter how horrible life treats you. How ashamed of me he would be if he could see me now. Part of my spirit died on the day he left me forever. That was the first truly painful event that occurred that I wasn't sure I could make it through. He was so young, only twenty.

We all had thought the attacks had ended when Dumbledore had defeated Voldemort earlier that spring. We were sure that his minions would return to hiding as they had nineteen years before.

It seems a sad mockery that it would be Peter Pettigrew to slay Harry in the end. I watched him fall lifeless on the ground not two feet from myself and the rest of the order.

I remember Sirius Black, who survived the tortures of Azkaban, rushing to Harry and cradling the lifeless form of his once glorious godson in his arms. The sight drove him over the edge and he finished the crime that he had been accused for so many years before.

In the midst of war, however, murder becomes acceptable. This I have never understood. Would the dead agree? I'm not sure Peter would have.

It was the most difficult September of my life that year and yet, even with my vast love for Harry, I couldn't cry.

It was through Harry's death that my greatest heartache came. It still lingers even now. I grew close to him during the moment that Sirius' madness was overtaking him. The two of us took care of Sirius' every need together.

We became a team.

Perhaps part of me needed him in hopes he would fill a void left in me from losing my closest friend. His smiling and familiar face was such a welcome site as I was picking up the pieces to my life.

He took my pain away. He understood me. It didn't take long for me to heal under his protection.

His gentle kindness was such a safe feeling. I was in love with him before I would have ever admitted it to myself. I suppose, in a way, I always knew. I seem to remember my interest starting as an innocent school girl infatuation.

I would never have believed that it would resurface in my adult life. Its hard to explain to someone why you are in love with a man the same age as your father.

Age is irrelevant in love and love is truly blind, especially when you stand to get hurt.

Remus Lupin, just the sound of his name can make my heart ache. Our love was so real.

More pure than the life of the unicorn. My time with him sent me to new heights unimaginable.

He was my one, my soul mate. It was our strong love in the end that eventually tore us apart.

Remus could never cope with his secret. His fears multiplied once a month when he would send me away. It didn't matter what scientific advances had been made, he would tell me that he was a foul beast not to be trusted and he would only hurt me the end.

No truer words were ever spoken.

I shared his bed and his life for two glorious months before learning that I was pregnant. I couldn't have been happier. My life had such meaning and direction. Mother to the child of the man I love. I assume that he was happy too. He smile and held me when I told him my news, but there was that familiar look of sadness and fear in his eyes.

I knew at that moment that I would be raising the child on my own.

I was six months along before he told me he had to leave.

He kissed me so tenderly, letting his hand rest on my slightly swollen stomach, and whispered in a soft voice that everything would be okay. He told me of the preparations he made.

He set up a bank vault and left what little money we had in it for me with the promise that he would always replenish it each time he had work. He told me he loved me and our child. I believe him.

I know that he still does. He asked me to tell the child that he had died.

This was a request that I knew I would never be able to keep. He argued that a dead father's memory is better than a living monster. No one could ever call Remus a monster.

It was always a title that didn't fit. He held me one last time, tears jetting down his cheeks, and then he turned away without looking back. He paused only for a moment, in the doorway to tell me he would write always.

Then he was gone. I couldn't cry. I tried.

Many nights I lay in bed alone trying to weep for the lost piece of my soul but the tears never came.

Luke Alexander Lupin was born on the anniversary of Harry's death. The pain of labor only numbing my already dulled senses. Holding my son helped me to find a new hope on that day though. However, my mind wandered to my Remus since Luke's face was so similar to his. His eyes held the same cunning thoughtfulness. I would have given anything to share the moment our son was born with my beloved.

Remus did keep his word about writing. In fact, I received an owl from him only moments ago. He writes to me on every and any occasion with a knowledge of my life that could surpass even Albus Dumbledore's. He knew of Luke's birth according to the owl that greeting me at home the moment I returned with the newborn. Remus was always good with the details and his letters are intoxicating to me. He always manages to exclude any clues that would give away his location. He probably assumed that I would go looking for him. He would have been right.

Life was never simple after becoming a mother. Is it for anyone? I always had the fear that Luke would inherit his father's "disease" but by the time he was a year old he seemed free of any symptoms. Nevertheless I can't look into the night sky and see the full moon without feeling a bit apprehensive.

When Luke turned two my life took another unexpected turn. An old friend came crashing into my life quite literally. I hadn't seen Ron Weasley for nearly four years when his attempt at connecting his apartment's fireplace to the floo network by himself failed miserably. He came into my own chimney with such a force that all the glass on the photos that reside on my mantle shattered sending the people pictured in them running for cover. I couldn't help but to smile at the familiar face of a very confused redhead. He seemed very surprised to see me and claimed that this was an unfortunate accident but in my youthful vanity I suspected he was lying. Of course I believed myself to be right and that surely Ron had been missing me and knew how desperately I needed a friend at that moment. I simply didn't want to think that a much needed friend would pop up merely on accident.

He was there and I needed him, so he stayed.

Life was different then. In many ways it was reminiscent of my years at Hogwarts, some of the happiest I have known aside from my time with Remus. Ron and I remembered how to laugh together.

We got along more famously than we had in our school days. Perhaps that was because we no longer had the need to compete for Harry's attention. I loved Ron, I still do even now, but not in the way I should have. I would watch him play with Luke and marvel at how much affection he showered on a child that was not his own. It was then that my thoughts shifted to ones of guilt for not raising Luke with love from his father along with his mother's. Luke saw Ron as the only father he had.

I am sure that Luke's feelings for Ron played a significant part in my answer when Ron asked me to marry him. Even though I knew in my heart that I would never be able to love him as a wife should love her husband, I said yes.

In the years that followed, Ron and my family grew. When Julia Marie Weasley was born Ron was so thrilled that he rented a banquet hall and threw a magnificent feast for all of our friends and relations.

I say "our" but in all honesty they were Ron's. Ron had acquired a great many friends over the years thanks to his position in the Ministry of Magic.

While we were at Hogwarts, he had become obsessed with various dark creatures.

Not in a way that I would have suspected him as a spy during the war or a death eater.

No, if anything I thought he would have turned his fancy to teaching the defense class at our beloved school. I had given up hope for a "Professor Weasley" a few months before we left from our seventh year. Last I heard it was Dennis Creevy, another Hogwarts alumni, that had assumed the position and holds it still. Instead Ron used his new found obsession to create a new office inside the ministry of magic.

He became an auror of sorts. Catering to the needs of the dark creatures such as vampires and, ironically enough, werewolves. This new branch, the office for the defence of controversial beings, opened up to many skeptical opinions but Ron rose above that and earned much respect and many friends.

By the time Joseph Ronald Weasley was born our marriage had grown stale.

It was then that I first realized that I couldn't bear to live my life this way. The wife of the great Ronald Weasley. I thought of all people he would understand my feelings of inadequacy what with his problem being known for a large portion of his life as the friend of Harry Potter.

I believe he sensed what I was thinking but instead of helping me with this he chose to distance himself from me more and more.

He drowned deeper into his studies leaving me to tend to our family alone.

Countless times I would come home in the evenings from shopping and find him in our parlour discussing current events with various people that all had the same hungry expression on their faces that sent chills down my spine. He tried many times to convince me that he was working on new cases but I could tell what he was truly up to. His obsession was beginning to take over.

Living with werewolves is one thing. They are deemed untrustworthy by a curse that befalls them. Vampires are untrustworthy by choice. I tried to explain that to Ron many times.

I often encouraged him to read from the extensive collection of books that I housed in our study.

He always refused telling me I was as paranoid as I have always been.

Funny, I only remember being cautious.

Last week he came to me with a look of regret spread across his face. He said he needed to travel across seas to the States on business. A bargain he couldn't refuse. On our dresser he left a package of papers containing all the titles and accounts that we possessed as well as a few that I never knew we had. I realized that all of them were now in my name. It was those papers, like some final clue to me as to what this secret business was in the States, that let the reality sink in. I knew that I was once again alone.

So now I sit here, watching my three children playing so carefree, wondering if my face ever seemed so void of worry. I watched each of them like they are pictures of the past. Luke with his haunting eyes and the younger two with their flaming red hair looking as though they don't even belong to me. I silently mourn the loss of Ron. I have never understood the desire to give up ones mortality for such a bleak life of death, but I still grieve for my loss. Still, there is no need to cry. I sit still clutching the latest letter from my Remus in my hands. Perhaps next time he will give me some clue as to where he is. I still need him.

How did my life end up like this?

the end?