Phases of the Moon

Prologue

No regrets.

Sure, that's what they say. They being people who have never made a mistake, and no bad experiences to recall. Whatever happens, happens, so it goes. Can't change the past, so don't even try. Why let it agonize you?

Does anyone ever believe this?

Anyone with a conscience, anyhow.

Do werewolves have a conscience?

If they didn't, would I feel like this? Would I feel almost joy when the full moon comes? The moon brings back memories of a time worth having memories of. People that I loved and cared for.

But they're gone now.

All I loved, I loved alone.

I lost two of my best friends in battle. Died heroically, but I know, given the chance, they would have opted to live. Lost my other best friend -- well, now enemy -- because he started one of the battles. Bit of reprehensible egoism, if you ask me. Never forgave him for doing it, never forgave myself for letting it happen. I couldn't help losing them.

But I could help losing her.

If it hadn't been for my own reprehensible egoism.

Chapter One:

The darkest of days had fallen upon Remus Lupin. His mood was constantly as sour as any Wolfsbane potion, as bitter as the loyalist of Death Eaters after Voldemort's fall was. What happened to the intellectual, caring Professor?

Gone.

Well, not completely. There was just a shade of a the old him left, but it was buried deep, deep down inside. Barely noticeable. Why? Why did he change?

He didn't know. He didn't care.

It was dull without the students he'd once known so well. Harry, being the dead-ringer of a best friend he'd knew on one occasion. Ron, well, who didn't know the trials and tribulations of all the Weasleys? One of the best known Wizard families known, if not the best. And...Hermione.

Hermione.

Clever, powerful, incredible. There were so many other words he could have also described her with, but he really didn't have much time these days. Out of anyone, he missed her the most.

Naturally.

He remembered everything about her -- her cascading curls that fell over her face when she was covered in a book, or in the times he had spent with her, the pillows -- the way her bronze eyes got so expressive no matter what she was feeling, or the way --

Stop. No use recollecting. Wasn't going to bring her back, was it?

Yes, the days had certainly grown darker on a one Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

On this particular September Monday that our story starts on, Remus had been dressing in his room to go down for breakfast. He had been feeling exceptionally dejected today, because today was September the nineteenth.

Hermione's birthday.

She was turning twenty-one today. He had remembered what Hermione had told him when she was seventeen, just before she graduated. "I'm going to see you," she had said, "on the birthday that I turn twenty-one. I'll come over, and we'll, uh, catch up, won't we?" He had nodded, looking quite forward to that day.

Not quite so, anymore.

Before buttoning the last button on his robe, he picked up a card that was lying on his bed. A card he written to Hermione last year, and he had been saving it for this special birthday. He didn't even remember writing it.

The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, as if he'd seen it somewhere before, but for the most part, it looked like chicken scratch.

He stared at the letter, reading it, but not taking in the words. Had he really written that? He stared at the date. Yes, he was positively smitten with the Muggle-Born around the time he'd written the letter. He had thought he'd gotten rid of that letter once they've...

He wouldn't say 'broken up.' They never really wore together, understand, just sort of a little past the boundaries of a normal student-teacher relationship.

Since they've...turned on each other.

Yes, that was it. Remus remembered a quote from an animated Muggle Movie that Hermione had him watch. She said she'd love that film as a child, and he just had to watch it. He didn't know anything about anything about the movies, but hey, it had made her happy.

What was that quote again?

Oh yes.

Was she trying to show him something? Must of. He shook his head -- it wasn't a bad lesson. Hermione was his world. And she had turned her back on him.

He --

"Remus?" Dumbledore poked his head into his room. His silver beard and small, azure eyes had been blazing quite wisely.

The professor had looked up. He always had admired Albus Dumbledore, especially for re-instating him in the Trio's sixth year. He looked up at the Headmaster and frowned. "Professor, I -- "

Dumbledore waved a hand to signal silence. He did it pleasantly, but rather firmly. "I know you're upset, Remus," he said softly. "You miss her. It's her birthday."

"How do you -?"

"Remus, stop. I knew. I always knew."

"But, why didn't you say anything? I mean, teacher and student, and Albus, but...What if the Ministry had found out? You'd lose your job, I'd lose mine, and Hermione --"

Another wave of a silencing limb.

"Remus. The only reason I let it go on was because you were so happy. I've never seen you jaunt and jubilant, since the death of James and Lily and then Sirius, so suddenly...Well, you know. Please, come down to breakfast. She would have wanted you to eat. Full moon's tonight, you know."

Dumbledore gave a satisfied nod, and then went downstairs to join the others.

Remus Lupin looked around his room again, remembering everything about it the way it had been four years ago. In the corner where his books wore used to be her perfume. Where his robes hung, used to lie hers as well. His bed was hers.

Gone.