He was running, sprinting freely on his own personal moon. The wind gently buffeted his face and the tall grass and flowers that grew all around him swayed. The pleasant strain of running pulsed through his limbs as his exhilaration grew with every passing minute. He was free, free to be himself. There was no need to hide anymore, no need to escape. He howled with pure joy and the birds that were roosting on the nearby trees sensed it and sang with him. No one was running away from him, nothing was shunning him. There was no need to worry, no need to worry…
Worry? Moony skidded to a halt as discontent penetrated his web of happiness. Worry about what? The wolf cocked his head and stared into the distance. All around him, the garden disappeared as his unhappiness and confusion grew. What was he supposed to be worrying about? A vague thrill of terror flickered in his mind and died out. Fear? What was he to be fearful about?
The beautiful garden was replaced by a barren landscape. Craters pockmarked the grey dirt as non-existent winds stirred wisps of dust that swirled around him. The wolf sat back on its haunches, a lost and distant look in its crystal blue eyes.
Hazy memories formed in his mind. He felt the fear more strongly now as he saw another wolf with sharp teeth bared in a feral, bloodthirsty grin. A phantom pain ripped through him causing him to yip in pain and alarm. He whimpered as another memory of a tall, shabby-looking individual stared back at him. Recognition dawned on him but he had no idea who he was to recognise. He knew the man, but he did not know the man.
The wolf lay down on the ground like a tired dog, ears flickering back and forth in confusion. He saw a group of animals, a graceful stag, a hulking dog and a scrawny rat, who were sitting with him in a run-down shack as he howled agony to the world. They were his friends. Who were they? The wolf longed to hide in a corner but there was no corner in the world he was in.
A raven-haired teenager stared at him with horrified green eyes as a man in billowing black robes attempted to shield the teen from him. The memory caused the wolf to cringe. He was beginning to remember, slowly. He felt unadulterated happiness as he laid eyes on a baby with brown, no, turquoise hair. Another memory trickled gently into his mind like water. He felt bliss as he held a gorgeous woman with bubblegum-pink hair in his arms.
Suddenly, he knew. He knew who he was, understood every memory that had assaulted him. The wolf shot to his feet, eyes wide and roiling with unidentified emotions.
He was Remus Lupin.
The wolf he first saw was Fenrir Greyback as he prepared to change his young victim's life for the worse. The animals were his best friends, the Marauders, James Potter, Sirius Black and, and Peter Pettigrew. The wolf felt his fury build.
Poor Peter. Blown up. All that left was a finger. It was Sirius Black. Escaped. Yes, from Azkaban. You-Know-Who's right-hand man.
The wolf would have sneered if he could. Stupid people, ignorant, unfeeling…
His indignation and anger was replaced by a strong and overwhelming feeling of guilt. Harry, James' son, oh Merlin, James' son. He had almost bit him. Almost turned him into one of them. Harry had to be protected from him. Protected by a man that betrayed them to the Dark Lord at a time where he should have been with them. Severus Snape was Voldemort's all along. All along… He could not have harmed Harry. He loved Harry like his own godson; saw himself as a surrogate godfather when Sirius was not there. He would not have harmed him, would not!
The baby. The baby with decidedly turquoise hair. His favourite colour although his mother preferred pink, bright, glaring pink. That was the woman, his wife. He felt a jolt of alarm. Where were they? Teddy was safe with Andromeda back home, protecting him from harm. Protecting? The final battle. The Battle of Hogwarts…
Dora! Where was she? The wolf's alarmed eyes scanned the landscape. All he saw was wisps of grey ash that ghosted across the ground like creatures from another world. Then, it hit him like the enraged fire of a Hungarian Horntail. He was duelling Dolohov. He saw the green light, the horrible green light, before everything became black, before he ended up here. Did that not make him… dead?
Dead.
Gone.
Poof.
Anguish tore through him. What about his Dora? His Teddy? Harry? What were they going to do now that he was gone? The wolf had a sudden yearning to be a man again, just so he could bury his head in his hands. Just as soon as he wished so, he did. Remus glanced around in surprise. He was on the moon, was he not? Should he not stay a wolf forever? Remus shook his head in a wolfish gesture and sat with his knees drawn to his chest. His entire frame shook with the force of his agony as he thought of the people and things he had to leave behind, and he looked like a child that had lost his parents.
He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and he jumped in shock and fear, his heart thumping like a set of African drums. His fear subsided into guilty happiness as he caught sight of the body that was connected to the hand.
It was Dora. His Nymphadora that hated to be called Nymphadora. If she was here, that made her dead too. His happiness immediately turned to sorrow as he thought of his son. He was orphaned, not even one and orphaned. His wife seemed to sense his sadness as her own eyes reflected what he was feeling.
"He's with my mother, Remus," she said softly as she settled herself next to him. "She'll look after him well." He nodded and took her hand in his.
"I'm sorry, Dora," he whispered. "He'll never know us. You always wanted children and you will never know your first."
She smiled sadly at him.
"I know. I'm sorry too, but it's just the way it is. I made my choices when I joined the Force. The Aurors, we lead a difficult life," she said just as the wind picked up.
The couple looked about in confusion as the gentle breeze built to become a merry gale. It increased in ferocity, kicking up the dirt and forming the beginnings of a dusty yet soundless cyclone. Remus gripped onto his wife's hand tightly as he suddenly felt Harry's presence. He could feel his fear, his feelings of betrayal and pain.
He caught sight of his wife's alarmed expression and murmured, "Harry's calling me. Something's wrong." Her expression morphed into one of worry.
"Go, Remus. Come home soon," she said as she waved at a house that had suddenly appeared on the horizon. He nodded, as he gaze caught the house.
"I'll be home by dinner," he teased lightly, although his worry for Harry was growing with every passing minute. The wind lifted him off his feet and with a pop not unlike that of apparition, he disappeared.
A/N: Title is from David Cook's Life on the Moon.