Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.

Chapter 1
The Full Moon

The thing about life was that it never got tired of throttling your very physical, mental, and emotional being at any given time possible. Even if you think things couldn't possibly get worse, I'm telling you now with all my heart and soul that it can. Life will eat you up, grind every single piece of you into despicable crumbs, then spit you out so you can live to tell the pitying tale.

Of course, it's all very dramaticized. Is there anything in the world that isn't? That also happens to be a dominant trait of mine: dramatizing things. My best friend, Lacey Fenwick, never stopped reminding me. So she wasn't surprised when I clutched a creaseless rose-scented piece of parchment with disgustingly perfect loopy handwriting almost as if decorating the letter rather than conveying a message; my eyes blazed and shoulders shook in furry.

My wand offered a ball of light that allowed my eyes to skim through the letter again and again, an irrational part of me desperately hoping this was some sort of practical joke my father organized. It wouldn't have been the first time, but he never went as far as using my mother as a punchline. In fact, we never used to mention her at all until she showed up on my doorstep the same day I got my Hogwarts letter.

I'll say it now: a cramped living room with Professor Dumbledore, Muggle father, and previously nonexistent mother was probably the most uncomfortable experience of my entire life.

As I stared dumbfoundedly at the letter, I was well aware of Lacey's vexing breaths down my shoulder, not at all bothered by the concept of my personal space. Over the years of our friendship, I'd accepted this irritating part of her but I appreciated some effort in being more subtle in poking her nose into other people's businesses. Alas, with Lacey, I realized my complaints were sucked in one ear and pooped out the other.

When my eyes began to water reading the same words over and over, I took it as my cue to finally put the parchment down. Lacey, who sat next to me in my four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower, watched me with careful eyes. My breathing slowed; I grabbed the nearest pillow, stuffed my face in, and muffled a frustrated scream.

Lacey rubbed my back in pity. "There, there, Monnie. Christmas with the French mum doesn't sound so bad. Imagine the cute French boys!"

I sat up, looking at her incredulously. "You mean my cousins?!"

"Pureblood families are into that sort of stuff!"

"What, like incest?" I exclaimed in utter confusion.

A loud groan sounded from the other side of the room and a makeup kit flew in our way, crashing into my side table.

"Will you two shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep!"

With a sigh, Lacey pulled my curtains down and cast a silencing charm around us. I still looked at her with a mix of incredulity and despair.

"What am I going to do, Lacey?" I moaned. "I don't want to spend Christmas in France! I don't even speak a word of French! Last time I was there, they'd only speak French when I was around and I'm pretty sure they were calling me 'Midget Muggle' the whole time."

Lacey scrunched her eyebrows. "You're not even short."

"Well they're all freakishly tall so I guess five foot five doesn't make the cut," I said bitterly, falling back on my bed.

Lacey rolled her eyes. "Monica, you're overthinking again. It won't be as bad as you make it out to be if you actually think positive for a change!"

I pretended to consider her advice. "Hmm, okay then. I'm positive that I'm going to have the shittiest Christmas of my life."

Lacey was unimpressed.

I sighed and for the sake of my best friend, I decided to humor her. "You know what? I'm going to write to my dad, tell him about the situation, and just let him handle it. I mean he's done it before when my mum tried to get me to spend last summer with her."

"That's the spirit!" Lacey cheered.

I chuckled at her enthusiasm, surprisingly feeling better after formulating a plan. It was during times like these that I really needed Lacey's overwhelming optimism. Without her, I probably would have already died of sulking a long time ago. Her look matched her flowery personality, blonde locks of hair typically pulled up in a high ponytail, smooth unblemished skin, and big round blue eyes that always seemed alight.

On the other hand, my look almost completely contrasted hers, hair jet-black, eyes brown, and pale skin specked. Ever since my mother's efforts in including herself in my life went from negative five to five thousand, my dad had less of a problem bringing her up in conversation. Most of the time, his comments stuck to the topic of my appearance and how uncanny the resemblance with my mother was. He never mentioned if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

I felt a shift on my bed and I turned to see Lacey pulling my curtains up and sliding off the sheets.

"It's a Monday tomorrow," she said begrudgingly, "and I can't be late for Potions again. Wake me up will you?"

After convincing her that I would wake up on time, she passed out on her bed almost instantly. Her ability to sleep instantaneously seemed like a skill only someone as free-minded and stress-fee as her would have. Unfortunately I didn't quite make the criteria for it. I laid awake on my bed, staring out the window where a silver full moon floated over Hogwarts grounds. The cool October air filled the room and the whistles of the Whomping Willow faintly danced around my ears.

Unable to sleep for another half hour, I grew restless. Sitting up, I caught a peaceful sight of the Black Lake where it seemed even the Giant Squid dozed quietly. The wind was crisp as leaves waltzed in the breeze. The only source of light was the moon and a few dimly lit lanterns outside the castle. Feeling the sudden urge to take a walk, I pulled my cloak over my pajamas and clutched my mother's letter in my fist.

I tiptoed out of Gryffindor Tower, feeling the rush of adrenaline and excitement from being out of bed after hours. Walks were generally something I liked to do when something bothered me but somehow I never felt the need to do one nearing midnight. There was just something about my mother's audacity to make plans for me as if she hadn't missed out on the first eleven years of my life.

Admittedly, there were things I learned from the forced lunches and short-lived family gatherings in France during the holidays that I never would have gotten from my dad such as wizarding culture and traditions as well as lady-like behavior and appearance.

Nevertheless, I never would have traded being raised by my dad with anything. I was a proud and stubborn Londoner who grew up watching football in pubs and toasting beer with random strangers donning the same jerseys. Once my mother bulldozed her way into the picture, she never stopped trying to mold me into some wine-tasting, frilly dress-wearing priss.

Too kept in my thoughts, I hadn't realized I already reached the exit to the Black Lake until I felt the cool breeze nip on my exposed skin. The light of the moon was impressively bright and I slowly stepped into the grassy area. It was odd to see a place that was usually bursting with students at noon completely empty and at peace. I walked towards the calm lake and sat a few meters before the edge.

I briefly closed my eyes at the serenity of it all, finally letting my thoughts slip away. My hand fiddled with the fancy parchment in my cloak before deciding to pull it out and examine it once more. I felt I already memorized its contents so I recited the words as I read.

"'Surprise, my Monica! You are coming to Chateau Bordeaux this Christmas! I will see you very soon! Je t'aime!'" I snorted before finally crumpling it in my fist. "See you very soon… She's lucky if she'll even get a bloody Christmas card from–"

A loud doleful howl suddenly emitted in the air. Caught off guard, I jumped to my feet. Fear quickly pumping my veins, I took a few steps back. The sound seemed close but not close enough to be in the exact area. It came from inside the forest and suddenly a walk outside under a full moon didn't seem like the brightest of ideas.

Trying to push away the nagging voice in my head of student gossip about werewolves inhabiting castle grounds, I whipped my head around the seemingly empty field of grass. I cursed myself for being stupid enough to leave my wand in Gryffindor Tower, but I didn't think any danger would come from being no less than twenty meters away from the castle.

The edge of the Forbidden Forest was just on the other side of the lake but it wasn't close enough to cause any major panic. I could hardly feel my limbs, my feet pressed on the ground and my eyes wildly shifting around to detect any sort of movement.

When a few more seconds of nothingness passed, I wondered if I was just being paranoid. My breathing slowed and I could feel my blood pumping through my veins again. I sighed. It was definitely time to head back.

But just as I turned back towards the castle, a great white stag galloped in full speed towards me. My first instinct was to scream but as quickly as I took a deep breath of absolute fear, the stag turned into something tall and bulky and I was tackled down. I tried to scream but something, likely a hand, was pressed against my mouth, my desperate shouts turned to pitiful squeaks.

I realized quickly I was tackled by a person, specifically a tall boy who was easily able to pin me down by his sheer size and strength. Once I managed to focus my pupils in one direction, I caught a glimpse of the boy's face, round spectacles framing a pair of familiar hazel eyes and messy black hair across his forehead. I was able to connect the face to a name in a second.

"James Potter?" I exclaimed, but the hand over my mouth only managed to produce something like 'Hems Pupper?'

His hazel eyes narrowed and he rudely shushed me. Somewhat offended, I continued to scream, or squeal rather, and struggle until even he had enough.

"Oi, will you cut it out?" he whispered snippily. "I'm saving your bloody life here!"

That caught my attention. I stopped screaming and let myself breathe, only realizing how tired I felt from all the struggling. I tried to give him a questioning look but he turned his gaze away from me and to something on the side. Following his line of sight, I noticed a skittering movement towards us. As it got closer, my eyes widened in panic when a brown rat came to full view. My violent struggling ensued.

"Bloody–" James cursed as he struggled to keep me down. "It's not– It's not a real rat! Will you calm the fuck down?"

Just as he said it, the rat did transform into something else: another human being. My body went limp and I merely stared, unable to comprehend anything anymore. What the hell was going on?

"We lost him," the other boy said, watery blue eyes panicked and afraid.

"Where's Padfoot?" James demanded.

"He tried following him but I knew it was no use. He should be heading back by now."

"That idiot!" James growled, looking back down at me and glaring as if everything were my fault.

I lost all energy to struggle against his weight but I still managed to give my dirtiest glare back for a reason I was still completely clueless about. I had no idea why he was mad or why plumpy next to him looked as if he'd just seen You-Know-Who in the flesh. I had so many questions but James' hand seemed glued to my mouth, probably afraid I'd start screaming my lungs out if he let go.

A minute ago that was exactly what I would have done but I realized we were all out of bed after hours and the two boys I was with didn't look like they were just enjoying an evening stroll around the Black Lake before I came. The last thing I wanted to happen was get caught but knowing how fast my good luck ran out, I expected that was exactly what was going to happen if this continued.

"Will you please let go of me?" I tried to politely ask, James' hand reducing the question into mere muffled sounds but the point came across.

"And let you scream like a bloody Banshee and get us caught?" James snapped. "That's likely."

"I'm not going to scream," I said, but in the corner of my eye I spotted a large rabid dog that slowly approached the plump boy's behind. My violent screaming returned and I pointed my finger in panic to warn the boy of the beast.

"Hey, hey! Calm down!" James said impatiently, gripping my shoulder to keep me still.

My temper flared at his attempt, heart beating fast against my chest as I continued to panic at the sight of the dog. I quickly connected the howl from earlier to the animal and I was convinced I wasn't seeing breakfast the next morning. The plump boy finally noticed the source of my panic and to my surprise, a large smile appeared on his face. My screams died out.

"Padfoot!" the boy exclaimed.

"Peter, keep your bloody voice down," James hissed, looking exhausted from holding me down. He had shifted from hovering directly above me to sitting on the grass by my side, hand still over my mouth but my shoulder finally released.

Turning back to the big dog and the plump boy called Peter, my eyes widened when the big dog was no longer. Next to Peter was Hogwarts' favorite eye candy in all his might, Sirius Black, dark hair pushed back and stormy eyes narrowed directly at me. A wave of silence passed, the heaving breathing of James filling the stale air.

I tried sitting up, my back suffering fatigue from the hard soil. James felt his hand on my mouth shift but I like to think he saw the discomfort on my pitiful expression that he finally released his hand without a word. I didn't have the energy to speak at first so my eyes darted around the strange group, taking in Sirius' frustration, Peter's confusion, and James' burnout state.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" I finally managed to croak out.

A faint howl echoed in the distance. None of them even flinched.

Sirius chuckled darkly. "Sweetheart, you picked the wrong night for a stroll."

Staring at the three exhausted Gryffindor seventh years that I could have sworn a moment ago were animals, I realized he was right. I couldn't have possibly picked a worse night to contemplate by the lake under a full moon on the disappointment that is...well, me. Life - 176, probably. Monica - 0, as expected.

A/N

Haha, well this is my attempt at a romance comedy fic. I typed this down at the spur of inspiration and it felt weird not to publish so yeah. I'll see where this goes. :)

-Finner