Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. All are owned by Joanne Kathleen Rowling.
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There is an ache in my body, between my throat and my stomach that ought not to be there.
It is heartache and loneliness; I realize that it is definitely not the result of spontaneous overindulgence, though my ingestion of chocolate at the moment as been increasingly large.
God, just the scent of chocolate brings the thought of him back.
There is a space in my heart where Remus used to be; he is still there, even if only in faded memories like the photos that line the dusty bookcase of my flat in London.
Random moments flash through my mind; a smile, a laugh, the split second before his lips touch mine when his eyes are closed, a smile is on his lips, and his long eyelashes wink at me through the flickering light of a candle.
I cannot feel anymore; he broke my heart. I am cold, restless; I can't keep still. My mind races and I think of excuses, reasons, arguments, anything I could do to get Remus to come back to me, to admit that he, too, loves me more than anything.
As I lie in front of the fireplace, where Remus and I spent so many nights together, tears spill abashedly down my cheeks. I am almost ashamed of my growing love for the man I know I cannot have, but for some reason, I can't let go of this feeling.
Many a night this year, I have lain in bed, dreaming of werewolves, hearing the cries of bitten children, and even, though I am loathe to say it, my own anguished scream as sharp canine teeth break my skin, warm, red blood flowing freely down my neck.
Other dreams are not violent; these others involve Remus walking around all fours, his amber eyes winking at me and his tail wagging quickly; in other words, the Remus I knew. I reach out and stroke his fur. He shivers at my touch, and the gray and silver hairs along his neck and back stand erect. I smooth down his fur. He growls contentedly and closes his eyes. He walks closer to me, slowly; his eyes are soft and gentle just as when he is a human. He affectionately nuzzles my shoulder with his snout, and I pet him in return.
These dreams haunt me even more than the violent ones, simply because they remind of the Remus that I fell in love with, the one that refuses to be with me. These are the dreams that leave me lying in a bed full of cold, damp sweat that makes me mentally recoil in horror.
His excuses have worn my patience and my mental health. I think I'm going insane.
All I think about is Remus.
Beautiful, tender, and dearly loved.
Remus