Loneliness Part 2 - Solitude in the moonlight

This is the second full moon without him. It's worse than ever, worse than the last time. Back then the shock of his sudden ... vanishing still had made me numb on the inside. Again I lay in "our" room, the room we secretly shared so often when I came back home.

Home is where the heart is, they say - so yes, this was home, it still is. For the first time in my whole life I felt at home. Surely my parents tried to make me feel at home but the worry in their eyes betrayed their brave attempts of showing me love. I don't blame them. They've done the best they could.

Hogwarts kind of felt like home, too. But for my solitary nature it was too crowded and the danger that my secret might be revealed didn't help me to relax. The Shrieking Shack wasn't home either but a refuge where I felt at least safe. And the small cottage I lived in after I had resigned from Hogwarts was nothing more than a roof covering my head and sheltering me from the cold outside and four walls keeping me and the people around me safe.

Once it felt more comfortable, just for a couple of days. It's more than a year ago now. One evening after the full moon when I lay on my couch, reading, still exhausted from the past night, I heard a soft knock on the door. I tried to ignore it. No one ever came to visit me. But whoever was at my door knocked again, more insisting. So I rose to open and thought I dreamt when I looked into his face.

He looked healthier then he had a year ago, more like his younger self. He smiled that breath-taking smile that made boys and girls fall for him immediately, still he wore this haunted look. "Hello, Moony, wont you let me in," he asked and all I could do was to step aside and do as he asked.

His reason for visiting me wasn't a pleasant one but it didn't matter to us. We spent the evening talking about everything that had happened in the last 13 years. We kept talking the next day sharing the happy memories of our time at Hogwarts. The following night he cried in his sleep having a nightmare. I rushed to his bed, woke him, held him, and comforted him. He calmed down a bit still shaking with fear. I held him closer, stroking his hair and back soothingly and kissed him on the cheek. Then I turned my head a bit and so did he and our lips met. We both hesitated for a moment; shocked by what we had done and more by the way it had felt. So ... naturally, so right. We didn't speak. Our faces moved closer again, our lips meeting again, we deepened the contact, the kiss slowly growing in intensity, passion. Our hands started a tender journey on each others bodies, removing the layers of clothes until we felt nothing but bare skin. Our lips followed our hands, kissing, touching, tasting.

Both of us had been alone far too long. Both of us needed comfort. This first time we got together was gentle, exploring ourselves. When we rested afterwards both of us felt a bit awkward. But before we could talk about it, we fell asleep.

The next morning, the whole day was strange. Although we both had liked it, needed it, we avoided each others eyes, hardly talked, the tension between us growing. When the sun set I couldn't stand it any longer. I crossed the living room to stand before him. "I can't stand this. The silence. I ... I can't stand the tension. And I won't. What we have done, we can't take back. And I don't want to take it back. I ... I've never done this before but it was what I needed, what I wanted in this moment. I ... I felt alive, I felt ... loved. And I won't allow you to destroy this wonderful feeling. I think you liked it, too. But if you didn't it won't happen again. It will just be another happy memory we share. Nothing more. But nothing less either...," I said getting more nervous with every second. I had stared at the floor, now I looked up and into his smiling face. He was smiling? Did that mean...? Could it be...?

He rose, still smiling. "You're cute when you're babbling. And I agree it felt wonderful. And I needed it too. But I just don't know if this is really ... love. Something that will last forever. I don't want to hurt you, Remus, or your feelings."

I couldn't believe my ears. I just heard that he had felt the same. Then his confession sank into me and I hesitated. Was it love that I felt? Did I love him? Or was it just sex? Or friendship? No, it was beyond friendship, beyond love. "I care for you more than for anyone else. All I want is your friendship. I don't want to ruin that. I want us to be close, to comfort you when you need it. It might be just by listening to your problems, it might be by cheering you up, it might be by holding you the way I did last night," I said slowly.

He smiled again, took me into his arms, hugging me close. I leaned into his embrace, just enjoying the closeness, his smell, his lips on my neck, kissing, nibbling their way down ... I startled. "What are you doing," I asked.

"What do you think," he giggled, not stopping his tender attack on me. I closed my eyes, just feeling. But I couldn't resist the urge to touch him, taste him, too. This time there was just passion, hot, sweaty, most satisfying ...

I raise, I start to pace the room. Those memories are coming back more often with every day passing. I miss him. He had always been closer to me than anyone else, closer than my parents, closer than James. Maybe it was his form as an Animagus. Maybe it was the way he hid his true nature. He seemed outgoing, boisterous but on the inside he was unsure, romantic. I miss everything about him.

Even his temper, raging more often these last months. I understood him, oh, so well. He wanted to work with us but not as the provider of the Headquarter or by researching. He wanted to be an active member of the Order, risking his life as we did.

Every time I came home to him it was harder to calm him down. He was worried about me, he became over-protective. He insisted that I took the days before the full moon off; he supervised me taking the Wolfsbane Potion. A laugh escapes me when I think of him fussing over me. It sounds strange. The laugh, not the fussing. We spent the nights of the full moon together, both in our animal form. Those were the only nights I dared to take him outside. Just a little walk now and then, a far too small reminiscence of our days at Hogwarts.

But despite all the tension in the Order, the raising danger, we were happy. No, not happy but content. It was wonderful to come home, knowing someone was waiting for you, happy to see you ...

And this is gone, forever. I'll never come home to him; I'll never see his smile, his frown. I'll never see him pouting. I'll never touch him, hold him, and see the pure joy, sometimes lust in his eyes. The happier the memories are, the harder they are to bear. I can't resist any longer, I cry out my misery, my frustration, my sadness. The howl I sent towards the moon shakes the house to the core. I sense people waking up in the other rooms but I don't care.

I should've stopped him when he insisted on coming with us to the Ministry. But how could I? He wanted to finally do something, fight and above all protect Harry. And he did well. If he hadn't just stood on the dais or just not with his back to the archway. If he had paid more attention on his surroundings. Or if I had been faster. Or Dumbledore. Or someone else. If someone else had helped to stop Bellatrix.

Holding back Harry, he prevented me from rushing to the Veil, from passing to it. I didn't look at the arch, I couldn't. I concentrated on helping the others, keeping myself busy, not thinking on what had happened. When we came home I shut myself in our room and the thinking began the search for what I might have been able to do to save him. But no what-ifs will ever bring him back.

I am alone, separated, outcast, more than I have ever been. I crouch myself together, resting my head on my front paws. Tomorrow's Harry's sixteenth birthday. He misses him nearly as much as I do. He'll need comfort; he'll need me, the one who knew his godfather better than anyone else.

Still I can't be anything more than selfish, drowning in my misery, pitying myself. I miss him and I am alone.

***
2003-07-25