AN: To begin, this is my first story in a while, I havent written in very long, so please excuse the short chapters until I get used to it again. I will try to update once a week.
I do not own Harry Potter, its characters or the places
Remus watched with a heavy heart as Sirius twirled Hermione around in the snow, her squeals getting louder with each spin. He could remember Sirius Words "Snatch her up, Moony, before someone else does." Remus never thought it would be Sirius that snatched his faraway love from right under his nose.
He should've seen it coming. The Sirius actually dared enter the library, or how he sat closer to the Marauders girl at dinner. The signs where there, right in front of him, but he choose to stay blissfully unaware, expecting Hermione to be there when he was ready to let someone in so close.
But then there had that stupid mistletoe and a stupid charm causing stupid Sirius and lovely Hermione to get stuck under it, and stupid Sirius had to go and stupidly-
He cut off that thought. It wasn't fair to Sirius or Hermione. He was at fault. He should have taken Sirius advice before it was too late. Because now, as he looked at her, all pink cheeked, full of giggles, he doubted he could cause her to be so happy. He, who wore patched closes, and had scars from head to toe. He, who had a monster raging inside him, just waiting to be released every full moon.
Remus sat down on a beach, closer the forest. Offering him shade from the sun that was glinting off the snow. Sadly though, due to his further distance, it took the sixth year longer to react when he heard her shrill scream, followed by a swift crack.
Harry could feel his cheeks still burning in anger from his latest row with Ginny. It was becoming more and more obvious that she didn't see past the scar on his forehead and what came with it. All he was a nice girl who didn't see him as The-Boy-Who-Lived. Hell, he'd be happy if she didn't see him as Harry Potter at all, but just another boy, chasing after another. Simple. That was he wanted. Something without secret motives, or hidden histories. A fresh start.
He barely held that last thought before something soft fell on him.