"Hey, Moony — you still awake?" James whispered into the darkness of the boys' dormitory. "Moony!"
Remus groaned when James shook him. Well, he was awake now. "What do you want?"
His bed sank beside him with James's weight. "Why did Lily tell me to ask her out again on Monday? Why didn't she just say no and call me an arrogant toerag like she always does? Do you think she's just toying with me or what?"
Remus sat up, rubbing his eyes. He should've known this would be about Lily, the only girl who could rattle his normally unshakably confident friend. "You heard what Sirius said —"
"I want to know what you think. You talk to Lily more than Sirius and I do. She's never had a problem with you. She likes you."
"She doesn't talk to me about you, Prongs. But I think the only reason she would have told you to ask her out again is because she wants to say yes."
"If she does say yes, I'll be the happiest guy in the entire wizarding world," James uttered in a tone Remus had only heard him use when speaking about Lily under the cover of darkness. With more of his usual self-confidence, he added, "I plan on marrying her, you know. And we're going to have enough children to make our own Quidditch team. You'll be godfather to one of them of course."
"Promise me you won't open with those plans when you talk to her on Monday," Remus said in amusement. "You might scare her away."
James laughed. "I won't. It's taken me six years to get a maybe out of her. I won't screw this up now."
James went back to his bed and Remus lay against his own pillow, gripped with a sudden melancholy. He couldn't quite explain it. He was happy for James. James loved Lily and he was glad that his friend was finally getting his chance with her. Why, then, did he also feel so gloomy?
And then the reason struck him: he would never have the chance like James to be the "happiest guy in the entire wizarding world."
He'd always known he'd never have a normal life like his friends — he could never marry and have a family of his own because of what he was — yet it was only now that the reality of it all truly dawned on him: he would never know love. He was a werewolf; therefore, he was destined for loneliness while his friends were free to find love and happiness.
He turned over in bed, his heart heavy. He'd thought he'd already accepted his fate, but he couldn't help but let the unfairness of it all overwhelm him this moment. He didn't like to complain about his furry little problem or pity himself, but sometimes a terrible bitterness surged inside him. He felt it now and hated that he was a werewolf. He despised having to worry about the full moon and constantly being on guard lest his secret be revealed. He longed for the life he would have had if he'd never been bitten. He would have been normal like his friends, and he could have someday been a good husband and father. . . .
After a night full of fanciful thoughts, then dreams about the type of girl he would have liked to marry, a scent, one he'd never come across before yet was somehow familiar to him, and intensely alluring, stirred Remus from sleep late the next morning. He didn't fully register the warm body next to his, however, until his eyes slowly fluttered open to plaited brown hair and the figure of a girl in his embrace —
He started, jerking his arm away from the girl, who twisted around to face him, her eyes going wide when they met his. They both cried out in shock. Then he was crashing to the floor, the girl shrieking as he pulled the covers down with him.
He sprang up to his feet and blinked rapidly at the sight of the stranger standing on the other side of his bed. She glanced around his dormitory, looking as confused as he was alarmed.
"Who are you?" he asked warily. "W-what are you doing in the boy's dormitory?"
"Who are you?" she countered, her voice trembling slightly. "Why am I here?"
She seemed as bewildered as he was. He glanced around the room, wishing one of his friends were here and not yet down at breakfast, but he was alone with this girl and had no explanation for how this had happened.
She looked scared and pale, and he wanted to help her, but before he could fully wrap his head around her being there she bolted from the room. She was gone in a blink, and, his brain still slow from sleep, Remus wondered if perhaps she'd just been a dream. . . . It had to have been a dream. That was too bizarre to be real.
On his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, though, he contemplated whether he should mention to his friends what had happened, in case the girl hadn't been a figment of his imagination and they'd noticed something that could explain how he'd awakened with her. He decided not to tell them, however, because he knew they'd tease him to no end for dreaming such a thing. Still, he kept an eye out for that girl that day, but he didn't catch another glimpse of her.
He was entirely convinced that she really had been a dream when he walked into Professor McGonagall's office the next morning, so his heart nearly stopped when he saw her inside.
"Guilty conscience, Mr. Lupin?" McGonagall said, heightening his apprehension. Had the girl told her what had happened the previous morning? How would he explain himself to McGonagall? But then she told him, "You are not in trouble this time."
He was relieved, but he could hardly relax. He hadn't been dreaming after all. The girl was real.
McGonagall introduced her as Jean Wilkins, a new transfer student, and assigned him to be her study partner. He had no choice but to agree.
He and Jean lingered awkwardly outside McGonagall's office a few minutes later.
"I suppose we should, um, talk about . . . you know . . . what happened yesterday," Jean said.
"What exactly did happen?" he asked uneasily.
"I'm not entirely sure," she replied, and then told them there must have been some mix up with the Portkey she was supposed to use to get to Hogwarts.
That explanation didn't make much sense to him, not least because she hadn't even had a Portkey when she'd appeared in his dormitory — she'd been asleep and empty-handed — but he sensed her confusion over the situation was sincere.
"I'm sorry I ran off like that without saying anything. I panicked. I was just startled to wake up like that, with you. . . ." Jean broke off, blushing hard.
"I'm sorry," he said, his face heating up as well. "I was the one who was — I mean, I was asleep too. I didn't mean to. . . ."
More awkwardness ensued, but then Jean proposed they pretend that incident never happened and start over. He gratefully jumped at the suggestion.
She feigned seeing him for the first time, and, amused, Remus went along with her idea to playact a new first encounter, offering to show her to the Great Hall. She thanked him, flashing him a pretty smile, and with the awkwardness between them easing a different sort of nervousness began affecting him as he walked along the corridor with the girl he'd thought was a dream.
Over the next couple of weeks Remus helped Jean get caught up in her classes, which proved to be a much easier task than he'd expected. Jean was smart. Really smart.
He found himself watching her sometimes when they studied together in the library, how focused and intense she was while she worked, the way her brow furrowed slightly and she chewed on her lip, her chocolate brown eyes so intent, speeding through the pages before her. But when she looked up from her books and her eyes met with his, they softened and warmed. He might have been too shy to talk to her, too intimidated not only by her cleverness but because she also happened to be very pretty, if not for her eyes. They revealed her kindness and made him feel like they'd known each other for years.
He was glad he and Jean were getting along well as friends and not just study partners. Unlike his other friends, Jean actually liked to study and read for fun like he did, and unlike anybody else he knew, she cared about issues such as the work rights of house-elves. He liked to listen to her speak passionately about the causes she cared about, but he also enjoyed it when she was less serious, like when she burst out laughing during their whispered conversations in the quiet library and clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound, her cheeks turning pink.
One mild October afternoon, Remus studied Jean curiously as they were lounging out on the school grounds with their friends. His senses were heightened from the approaching full moon, but he thought it peculiar how he could distinguish her scent so clearly and much more strongly than those of the other girls around him.
He remembered the first time he'd smelled it, in his dormitory when they'd first met, and how he'd thought Jean was a dream. It was strange. He'd been dreaming that night about the kind of girl he would've liked to marry if he'd never been bitten, and in the morning he'd awakened to find a girl in his arms even more beautiful than the one he'd imagined. . . .
The direction of his thoughts took him by surprise. He looked away from Jean in a hurry, his gaze landing on Sirius, who — he could tell by the smirk on his friend's face — had noticed him staring at her. He hoped he wouldn't read too much into that. It wasn't like he fancied Jean.
But Remus realized that wasn't exactly true a couple of days later when he became ill from his lycanthropy and checked into the Hospital Wing. He recognized that he was relieved to be away from Jean for a while, not because he didn't want to be around her, but because he liked being around her a little too much. Staying in the Hospital Wing gave him the chance to avoid her and the feelings he feared he was beginning to develop for her.
That is, until Jean showed up, laughing, in the arms of Sirius.
Fortunately, the two of them didn't stay long. Madam Pomfrey quickly healed Jean's ankle injury and Remus, who was looking peaky and feeling self-conscious under Jean's gaze, was grateful to see her leave, though he didn't particularly like that it was with Sirius.
He slumped back in his bed, troubled by the way he'd felt seeing Jean with Sirius and disheartened by the thought of her inevitably falling for his friend. She'd never notice him next to Sirius. And even if she did, it wasn't like he could date her anyway. Going out with a girl could only end in heartbreak because either he'd eventually feel too guilty keeping his lycanthropy a secret from her and they'd break up, or she'd find out what he was and never speak to him again.
And then fear struck him — what if his friendship with Jean ended in heartbreak as well? She'd just seen him in the Hospital Wing, exhibiting symptoms of lycanthropy in the days preceding the full moon — what if she figured out what he was? She was too clever not to figure it out.
Especially when his friends were careless enough to joke about it in front of her.
For the Halloween dance a few days after the full moon, Jean dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood. James and Sirius didn't know who that was, so a friend of theirs told them the tale.
Remus noticed that Sirius seemed to enjoy the story, and was aghast when he laughed at the end and clapped him on the back, telling Jean, "You'd better watch out for the big, bad wolf."
Hearing that fairy tale and seeing Jean dressed as Little Red made him hesitant to ask her to dance, but eventually Remus worked up the nerve. He was relieved when she said yes and felt a little thrill travel through him when he took her hand.
"Why are people giving us funny looks?" she asked as he led her to the dance floor.
He'd noticed as well. He told her it was probably because of the Dumbledore costume he was wearing. "It must look a bit scandalous for a professor to be dancing with a student. I suppose it doesn't help that I'm dressed up like an old man and you look very young. Maybe I should lose the wig."
By the time he'd disposed of his wig, however, the band had started a new song, a slow tune, and he sensed Jean's hesitance.
"Do you still want to dance?" he asked her. "I understand if you, er, want to wait for a better song."
"This song's just fine," she said, flashing him a smile.
Unfortunately, though, just as they began to sway to the music, Dumbledore abruptly put an end to the night's festivities.
After Remus walked Jean to her dorm, they lingered in the corridor outside for a while. She expressed her disappointment that they that hadn't actually gotten to dance and told him that he owed her one. He was excited at the thought, remembering the way a blush had crept into her cheeks when he'd put his arm around her waist earlier. He wondered if she felt what he felt whenever they touched — a strange thrill, like an energy of some kind sparking at their contact. It reminded him of something his father had once told him about knowing when something's been touched by magic by being able to sense its energy.
He sensed that same energy between him and Jean often over the next few weeks. He felt it when Sirius dared him to kiss her during a truth or dare game they played and, amid the catcalls and then disappointed groans from his friends, he pressed his lips to the back of Jean's hand. He felt it again when they were alone in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, their faces reflecting the light of the Patronuses they'd conjured.
"It looks like they like each other," Jean said as her otter and his wolf playfully chased each other around the room.
It was only when he noticed the color in her cheeks that he realized the implications of her statement, that if their Patronuses, which were extensions of themselves, liked each other, then that must mean they did too. He watched her otter nudge his wolf teasingly, almost flirtatiously, and the possibility that Jean might like him as more than just a friend simultaneously elated and terrified him.
But he knew that possibility was just wishful thinking because he suspected Jean actually fancied Sirius. Worse yet, Sirius seemed to fancy her as well. He flirted with her frequently, often making her blush, and Remus didn't know why he was surprised she'd fallen for his friend. It seemed most girls at Hogwarts had had a crush on him at some point or another.
But Jean was the only girl whose crush on his friend actually bothered him. So when the full moon arrived near the end of November, he sort of looked forward to his transformation for once. He knew it would release a lot of the tension he was feeling over Jean, and he wouldn't have to think about her in his werewolf state of mind.
Like they'd been doing since successfully becoming Animagi in their fifth year, James, Sirius, and Peter joined him in their animal forms that night, eager to roam the school grounds and Hogsmeade village in mischievous fun and adventure. Although Remus sometimes felt guilty about roaming about so freely as a werewolf, he knew that the presence of his friends made him less dangerous. His mind became less wolfish and more human in their company.
But this night was different. In his werewolf form, he caught a delicious and dangerously tempting scent in the air. He chased after it, losing his mind completely. . . .
The next thing he knew he was in the Shrieking Shack the following morning. Flashes of distorted images from the night, along with vague impressions of lust and fear and rage, came back to him. He shook them off, spent from the painful transformation and longing for a peaceful sleep.
A floorboard creaked before he could drift off. He opened his eyes and panic like he'd never known before jolted through him when he saw Jean.
"Jean, what are you —? You need to go! You shouldn't be here —"
"It's all right, Remus. It's —"
"No, Jean, you don't understand — I'm dangerous! You need to leave! I'm a — I'm —"
"I know, Remus," she said softly. "But it's morning now. It's okay."
His heart sank horribly — she knew.
"You're hurt," she said, reaching out to him, but he flinched away, shrinking back against the wall. The pain in his body was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.
"Jean," Sirius called quietly from behind her. "We need to go upstairs. Madam Pomfrey will be here any minute. She can't know we're here."
Remus avoided her eyes, lowering his gaze to the floor to search for his clothes, and without another word Jean followed Sirius away from him, away for good.
She knew.
And he knew she'd never speak to him again.
He was absolutely certain in that moment his friendship with Jean was over, and he became even more certain of this when his friends reluctantly told him later how he'd chased her in his werewolf form and had almost bitten her. He was horrified. During the next couple of days he couldn't bring himself to face her and the rejection and reproach he knew he'd receive.
But she found him at the top of the Astronomy Tower one afternoon, and she only gently reproached him for not giving them the chance to talk about what had happened.
He apologized for putting her in danger and for deceiving her about what he truly was, and was surprised when she said, "I like who you are, Remus."
Bewildered and a bit troubled by her response, he tried to tell her that he was dangerous and explain to her exactly what he was: a werewolf, a creature to regard with fear, distrust, and repulsion.
"Do you want to know what you are to me?" she replied. "A good person, the best study partner a girl like me could ever hope for, a great guy . . . someone whose friendship I wouldn't want to lose."
He didn't know what to make of her attitude, couldn't fathom how she wasn't afraid or upset, but he suspected she was just trying to be kind. She insisted, though, saying, "Look, I don't care that you're a werewolf, all right? That makes no difference to me. I only care that you're you, that you're Remus. Nothing else matters."
He hardly dared to believe her. In the following days, however, he began to accept that maybe Jean truly didn't care that he was a werewolf. There was no fear or disgust or pity in her eyes when she spoke to him. She looked at him and treated him as she always had.
And then the attack happened.
He was walking along the corridor with Sirius, James, and Lily when they heard someone around the next corner harshly say, "I can't wait until filth like you are exterminated. But until then, some fun. . . . You won't be so proud to be a Mudblood after this!"
Remus and the others hurried around the corner in time to see Jean being cursed to hang upside down in mid-air —
Fury like he'd never experienced before coursed through him and Remus raised his wand, blasting the three Slytherins attacking Jean and knocking them out cold. The young, tearful boy Jean had been protecting ran toward James and Lily, petrified, while Jean fell to the floor, the curse broken.
Remus watched her hastily get to her feet, her eyes wild. She glanced around, terrified and shaking. She jerked away from Lily when she tried to calm her. Her gaze then settled upon him. A moment later she was clutching him tightly, burying her tear-stained face in his shoulder.
He was astonished right out of his anger. All this time he'd been afraid Jean would run away from him because of what he was, but this evening she'd run to him, to him, not Lily or Sirius — she'd wanted him to be the one to hold her. And he did. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair soothingly, whispering words of comfort in her ear until she was no longer trembling, no longer afraid.
In the days following the attack Remus felt like his friendship with Jean had grown warmer. There were even moments between them that made him think she might feel for him what he felt for her, like that time she'd slipped in the entrance hall, the floor wet from students dragging in snow from outside, and stumbled into him. She'd lingered in his arms when he caught her, a light blush tingeing her cheeks as she peered up at him shyly, her gaze slipping down to his mouth before he'd stepped back from her nervously. Part of him was wary of those moments but mostly they buoyed his spirits. Unfortunately, his spirits slumped back down again whenever he saw Sirius flirting with her.
One day as he and Sirius were in the passageway behind the tapestry and Sirius was brainstorming aloud ways he might trap her beneath the mistletoe to find out if she was a good kisser, Remus just couldn't take it anymore and told his friend that if he fancied Jean he should just ask her out already.
"Maybe I will ask her out," Sirius replied. "Would that bother you?"
"Why would that bother me?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're in love with her."
And then Sirius confessed to him that he flirted with Jean only because he knew he liked her and wanted to pressure him into asking her out before he did. When he told Sirius that plan was stupid because he should've known she'd end up falling for him instead, Sirius told him, "She likes you, Remus. It's clear as day to anyone who's ever seen the two of you together."
Remus was stunned. If Sirius thought that . . . could it really be true then? Did it even matter?
"When are you going to ask her out?" Sirius demanded.
"I'm not."
"Why not?"
"You know why."
"Your furry little problem. Of course," Sirius sighed. "But Jean already knows and she's fine with it."
"She's okay with being friends, but being anything more than that . . . it's different. She wouldn't . . ."
"How do you know that?"
"What girl in her right mind would want to be with a creature like me?"
"She likes you, Remus. She likes you," Sirius told him bracingly. "Your furry little problem doesn't change the way she feels about you. She said so herself. You're the one who has an issue with it. Why can't you just —"
"It's not that simple. What I am . . . it isn't right. It isn't fair to her."
Sirius shook his head, regarding him with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "Remus, I know the whole werewolf thing is tough and completely unfair, but you can't let it stop you from living your life. Jean is perfect for you. Ask her out. You'll regret it if you don't."
Remus mulled this over the next few days and knew that if Jean truly did have feelings for him, if she truly didn't care he was a werewolf, then he probably would regret not asking her out. But still he hesitated. It seemed far too incredible that Jean would want to be with him. It would be too good to be true.
His friends kept encouraging him, though, suggesting he ask her to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party. He had to remind them that he couldn't go to that because he had detention that day, and regrettably so. On the way to detention that evening he ran into Jean who was heading to the party, and she looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.
After suffering through his punishment, Remus went to the top of the Astronomy Tower, the place he often went to think, and found a wonderful surprise awaiting him. Jean was there, gazing up at the starry night sky.
"You look like you're doing some serious thinking," he told her.
"I am."
"Care to share?"
She unloaded the questions that were plaguing her mind, questions about fate, freewill, prophecies, time, and alternate dimensions, and she was pacing and pacing, and going on about the unfathomableness of it all.
"Wow," he said when she finally stopped. "You really were doing some serious thinking."
They stood there for a while, quietly contemplating the stars, which were closer here than anywhere else in the castle yet still far beyond their reach. Remus took his time considering her questions and his own beliefs before he finally responded.
He gave her his take on things, ending with, "We should do what we feel is right with the time we are given. That way we can live with whatever comes next. No regrets."
Jean repeated his words thoughtfully and began pacing once more.
Remus watched her for a few moments, thinking about what he'd just said and admiring how incredible she looked tonight in her shimmering silver dress, her hair falling loose from the bun it had been in earlier, and he didn't want to hesitate anymore.
"Jean," he said softly, grabbing her wrist to stop her pacing. She turned to him, and for a second he thought she was going to begin rambling again, but then her pensive expression softened and she was silent and still. His heart, in contrast, was loud and leaping. He swept back one of her loose curls and studied her lovely face, her chocolate brown eyes and her slightly parted lips, and all he could think of, all he wanted to do, was kiss her.
"No regrets," he whispered, and then he took the leap.
His lips met hers gently, tentatively at first until contrary to his every fear Jean didn't pull away from him in shock or disgust but pressed her lips more firmly to his. And the usual thrill he felt at their contact was different this time. It was like magic, warm and brilliant and powerful, had sparked between them, and it filled him completely, flowing through his veins and seeping into his very soul. Suddenly the stars were no longer out of reach. He was among them, feeling oddly invigorated and slightly dazed and breathless by the time he pulled away from her. And could tell from her expression she'd been similarly affected.
But her expression changed after he took her hand, and with all the courage he had confessed, "I really like you, Jean. I have for a while now. Maybe even since we first met."
"I have to go," she said before he could go on. "It's past curfew. I should be in my dorm."
He offered to walk her, but she refused, looking panicked as she hurried away and left him there alone and confused.
She'd run away from him. But why? He'd given her plenty of time to pull away from his kiss if she'd wanted to, but she hadn't. She'd kissed him back. He thought she'd felt what he'd felt. But she'd looked frightened afterwards. She must be afraid of him after all. She'd kissed a werewolf and now she regretted it.
Remus spent the night in a troubled state, fearing he'd just ruined his friendship with Jean. He needed to talk to her and apologize right way, which was the first thing he did when he found her in the library the next morning.
"I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have kissed you. You were all mixed up thinking about — about determinism and time complexities, I shouldn't have —"
"I really like you too, Remus."
Astonished by her words and sure he must have misheard her, he said, "I'm sorry?"
"What happened last night . . . I'm sorry I ran away like I did. I didn't mean . . . I was just — I was afraid. . . ."
"Oh. I — I understand," he said, feeling a terrible pang in his heart as he took a step back. She was afraid of him. "You probably. . . . What I am must —"
"No, it wasn't because of that. It — it had nothing to do with that. I was afraid of — of what the kiss meant. I don't want to ruin our friendship."
"Neither do I. I don't want what I said last night, I don't want what happened to mess things up between us."
"It hasn't." She bit her lip as she contemplated him a moment. Then she told him again, "I really like you too, Remus."
Her words took a few seconds to sink in, and even then he could still hardly believe it. But he could see in her eyes it was true. She glanced down at his lips, and feeling like the luckiest person to have ever walked the halls of the castle, he took the hint and kissed her again.
Two months ago Remus had thought it could never happen, but now it was a reality: he was the happiest guy in the entire wizarding world. He was with the girl of his dreams and grateful for every moment spent with her. Whether they were having snowball fights, kissing under the mistletoe, or cuddling by the fireplace, his heart felt fuller and lighter than it ever had. He often felt dazed by his own happiness.
Everything was perfect — well, perfect except for one little thing: he sometimes felt like Jean was hiding something from him. He couldn't quite explain why he felt this, but it was something in the way she looked at him sometimes. Perhaps, though, he was just imagining things, convinced there had to be something wrong because he still thought being with Jean was too good to be true.
Then one evening, as he was sneaking to the kitchens for a snack, he checked the Marauder's Map and was stunned when he noticed that the dot that was supposed to be hers wasn't labeled "Jean Wilkins" but "Hermione Granger." His suspicions of her seemed to be well-founded. And they were all but confirmed the next evening as they talked in the Gryffindor common room.
Jean confessed to having lied about her blood status, which he'd already suspected but didn't blame her for. They lived in dangerous times, and it was safer to not advertise being Muggle-born. But he shared with her his feeling that there was something else she wasn't telling him, and experienced this feeling again when he mentioned the mysteriousness of how they'd first met with her magically appearing in his dormitory and the way the Marauder's Map labeled her.
She told him the map was wrong, but that was impossible. The map never lied — so did that mean she was lying?
He didn't know what to think that night as he lay in bed. He wasn't upset about her lying so much as he was a bit hurt she wouldn't confide in him and curious about what she wasn't telling him. His thoughts shifted as he looked out the window and remembered the full moon was only a week away. His heightened senses would kick in soon, so he mentally prepared himself for his hypersensitivity to Jean's scent and the impulses it might trigger.
When he met Jean the next morning, however, he realized he'd greatly underestimated the effect she would have on him. He greeted her with a kiss as usual and was overwhelmed with desires and impulses more powerful than any he'd ever experienced before. Fearful of the wolf stirring within him, he hastily pulled away from her. He'd always had great self-control, but he'd never been affected with this intensity and wasn't sure he could keep his impulses in check.
So he avoided physical contact with Jean after that, and avoided her completely for a while as well, going off to help a couple of Ravenclaws with a prank, and afterwards going to the D.A.D.A. classroom to meditate, a practice Dumbledore had taught him to help him maintain his sense of self and subdue the influence of the wolf.
Just as he was finishing up, Jean found him in the classroom. She thought he was upset with her because of the conversation they'd had the night before. Although he assured her he wasn't, she said, "But I feel like there's been some tension between us today. I've been getting this vibe that you — well, that you don't really want to be around me."
Remus didn't know what to say. He didn't want to tell her what was actually wrong with him, afraid he might scare her away, so he ended up saying, "It's not that I don't want to be around you" — the problem, as usual, was that he wanted to be with her too much — "I just need some space."
He told her that he trusted her and was a bit surprised when she admitted that there was indeed something she was hiding from him because Dumbledore had forbidden her from telling anyone. Remus told her he understood and repeated that he wasn't upset. Still she didn't believe him, so he assured her again, "Everything is good between us."
He gently brushed her hair away from her face and caressed her cheek. She leaned into his palm, the light contact heating his blood with desire. He tried to ignore it and reminded himself that he was in control, not the wolf.
"More than good. Being with you has been incredible, Jean. These last two weeks have been the best of my life."
Then, before he could stop her, she was kissing him, and they became locked in an embrace he couldn't bring himself to pull away from. He got lost in his impulses and backed her up onto the teacher's desk, filled with a powerful, greedy lust. He could sense Jean's desire in addition to his own — could almost feel it in his blood — and then he perceived her apprehension.
"Remus!" she shrieked, her fingernails digging sharply into his hand.
Slowly he came back to himself and was shocked by the position in which he found himself. He jumped off the desk and backed away from his girlfriend in alarm.
"I — I'm sorry, Jean. I didn't mean to . . ."
He needed to go, get away from her scent, so he bolted from the classroom and didn't stop until he was just outside the castle and the sudden feel of the bitter cold shocked his system. He sank down onto one of the snowy steps, perturbed by what had just happened, unable to believe he'd just completely lost control like that. He couldn't believe he'd bitten Jean's lip as they'd kissed — he wasn't supposed to bite. Not under any circumstances. It was too dangerous. He could get carried away by his wolfish instincts and infect her.
Remus tensed when he caught Jean's scent again.
"I'm sorry I scared you," he said, glancing at her warily as she sat down next to him.
"You didn't scare me. You just . . . you didn't really seem like you."
"I wasn't," he told her, and reluctantly began to explain how he was influenced by the moon even before it was full. She interrupted him, telling him he didn't have to explain because she'd read about it before. Of course she had. Knowing this didn't help his mortification.
"It's never affected me like this before, not so strongly," he said, then told her how Dumbledore had taught him practices to keep his mind and not lose himself to the werewolf part of himself, practices that normally worked very well. "I — I think your scent affects me differently, though, more intensely than anybody else's, because I've never lost control before. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
She told him not to worry about it, but he couldn't help but worry that this incident would make Jean reconsider their relationship.
Jean, however, stuck by his side. She understood that her scent and touch triggered him and acted cautiously the next few days, but not because she was afraid so much as because she wanted to make sure he was comfortable around her. He was taken by her considerateness and the affection behind it, and he greatly appreciated her compassionate nature. She was proving once more that she truly didn't care he was a werewolf.
The night before Christmas Remus contemplated his mother's necklace and whether or not he should give it to Jean. This necklace had meant a lot to his parents, and to him too. He wondered if it was too soon to give it away. But the day after Christmas, when he saw Jean wearing the necklace, its heart pendant resting against her own heart, he knew he'd made the right decision.
He took her through one of the castle's secret passageways that day and into the village of Hogsmeade where they had a spontaneous picnic in the snow. Now that the full moon had passed they no longer had to avoid physical contact with each other and made up for lost time by spending most of the afternoon snogging, their kisses tasting deliciously like chocolate. Everything was perfect once again.
But then everything changed the next day.
When Jean told him she'd be transferring to a new school, he was absolutely gutted. "You're leaving?" he said, unable and unwilling to believe it.
"I'm leaving," she said with tears in her eyes.
"Tomorrow morning?"
"Yes."
That was too soon. Much too soon. He hugged her to him and was reluctant to let her go again when he realized that by this time the next day holding her like this would be impossible. Why did she have to go? Why now when they'd gotten so close and everything was going so well between them and parting from her would be unbearable?
They tried to make the best of the little time they had left together, but the day was too short and night came too fast. Sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, a heavy silence fell between them until Jean reminded him that he still owed her a dance from Halloween.
"You're right," he said, getting to his feet with a small smile. "I will honor my debt if you will honor me."
She took the hand he offered, her eyes glowing. "But there's no music."
He remembered James had a radio and hurried to his dormitory to retrieve it. He was surprised when Jean joined him up there. They joked about how they'd first met in this room, but then their expressions turned somber again.
"I wish I didn't have to go," she said, her voice breaking as she hugged him.
"Me too," he said, holding her close. "But we'll write to each other like we promised, and we can see each other again when school is out." But he had a horrible feeling that wouldn't happen. "Jean, we'll see each other again, won't we?"
"We will," she said softly.
She gently caressed his cheek and a pair of tears rolled down her own. He felt helpless as he wiped them away. He pressed his lips to her forehead, then his mouth covered hers. When he started to pull away again, she clutched his shirt, keeping him close, and the way she whispered his name almost sounded like a plea. He could feel her distress as clearly as he could see it in her eyes, could feel her longing as strongly as he felt his own.
So he kissed her and hoped she could feel what he wasn't yet brave enough to say. He kissed her like it would be the last time he'd ever get to, because it just might be the last time, and he could feel his sentiment, his desperation, his desire, reciprocated in her own kiss.
They began to strip each other of their clothes, and her touch was like the pleasant warmth of bluebell flames dancing across his bare skin. Then, suddenly, her hands went still on his chest. She broke away from their kiss to look at his scars.
"I know they're not a pleasant sight," he said self-consciously. "If they bother you —"
"They don't." Her fingers lightly traced a scar on his chest. "I just don't like that you've been hurt." She placed soft kisses along his old wound before looking him in the eyes again. "And believe me, Remus, you are a pleasant sight. You're gorgeous."
She was gorgeous. She was perfect. He was merely lucky, lucky to be able to explore her curves and her silky soft skin as they lay together in bed, lucky to be able to feel her longing for him, in her kiss and in the way she responded to his touch, in the way that she pulled him closer, urging him for more.
But he tried to take things slow. He needed to in order to keep himself in control. Because the wolf was always priming to take over, not just when the full moon was near, but whenever he felt any emotion too strongly. And the way Jean was pressing her body against his was driving him wild. He thought he felt a second heartbeat racing in his chest, and a desire that was not his own overwhelmed him. That desire then mingled with panic.
"Remus . . . Remus, wait."
Immediately, though reluctantly, he pulled away from her.
"I-I'm not sure I can do this," she said. "I've never done this before. I — I'm not sure I'm ready."
So the panic he'd felt had been hers. He pushed aside his curiosity over how he could have felt what she was feeling, and his own feelings of mingled disappointment and relief that she'd put a stop between them, and said, "If you're not sure, then we shouldn't."
She apologized, but he told her he understood, admitting, "I've never either."
"Can I still stay here tonight?" she asked tentatively. "Can we — can you just hold me?"
"Of course," he said at once, grateful all his roommates had gone home for the Christmas holiday and he had the dormitory to himself.
She chose his blue sweatshirt to wear to bed, and then they snuggled together beneath the covers. It wasn't long before she dozed off, but he resisted the pull of sleep. He didn't want morning to arrive. He wanted the night to go on forever like this, while he was lying here with Jean in his arms.
But the night didn't last forever. Morning did come.
And Jean wasn't in bed beside him when he woke up. A note was left in her place:
Remus,
Please forgive me for leaving without waking you,
but I just couldn't bear saying goodbye.
I hope to see you again soon.
All my love,
Jean
Remus sat bolt upright. No — she couldn't have left already. He jumped out of bed and in record time made his way to Dumbledore's office because she'd said she'd meet with the headmaster before she left —
But she wasn't there. Dumbledore told him regretfully that she'd already gone.
She'd already gone.
Remus dragged himself back to his dorm, feeling numb. He was too late. Jean had left. And he didn't get the chance to say goodbye, didn't get the chance to tell her the words that had been burning in his throat while he'd watched her sleep last night. He slumped onto his bed, trying not to think that he might never get the chance to tell her now, might never get the chance to see her again.
He didn't know how long he'd been lying there when Sirius walked into the room.
"What are you still doing in bed?" his friend asked.
Remus forced himself to sit up. "What are you doing back at Hogwarts so soon?"
"Family drama at the Potter's residence. Thought it best if I ducked out and came back to school early. You should have seen Mrs. Potter's face when she found out — Hey, what's this?" Sirius picked up Jean's blouse from the floor and held it before him. "Is this —?" He raised his eyebrows and shot him an incredulous look. "Sweet Merlin, Moony! You and Jean —?" He whooped with laughter and punched his arm. "How was it? Was she —?"
"She's gone," he said, cutting across his friend's excitement.
"What?"
"She's transferring to another school," he told him in a hollow voice. "She had to leave Hogwarts this morning. She's gone."
Sirius's grin faded. "That's rotten luck, mate."
As Sirius grasped his shoulder, Remus buried his face in his hands. The numbness that had been protecting him was gone now, replaced by a deep, growing ache in his chest.
Rotten luck. He knew it had been too good to be true. He'd thought Jean was dream when they'd first met, and she might as well have been. . . .
"Remus . . . Remus . . ."
The feel of a gentle hand on his shoulder anchored Remus as he reemerged from the whirlwind of his memories, his eyes slowly fluttering open to the lovely face of a girl kneeling beside him, watching over him — Jean.
The ache in his chest lifted. She'd come back, she hadn't left him after all, Jean was here —
No. Not Jean. . . .
Hermione.
"Are — are you all right?" she asked, examining him with worry.
He blinked up at her, his mind reeling. Hermione . . . the girl he'd thought was a dream . . . the girl he'd dated when he was seventeen . . . the girl he'd kissed countless times. . . .
"Are you okay?"
He slowly sat up in her bed where he'd collapsed after she'd handed him the rose and stared at her in disbelief. Those memories . . . they couldn't be true, could they?
"Remus?"
But she had his mother's necklace, and with a jolt he realized the blue jumper she was wearing — that was his jumper, the one he'd let her borrow their last night together. . . . And that mysterious note and blouse he'd found amongst his things later hadn't been part of a prank his friends had tried to pull on him. Hermione had left them that night, after they'd —
Merlin's beard, he and Hermione had almost. . . .
"Remus, please —"
His pulse was out of control. He was overwhelmed, his head spinning with the memories, his heart overcome with every emotion he'd experienced, his wolfish impulses firing erratically —
"— say something."
Her anxious eyes searched his face, those eyes that had looked at him with such longing that night in his dormitory, the same longing he felt now, intensified by the memory of her touch, of the feel of her body against his, the taste of her kiss —
"Do you — do you remember?" she whispered.
"Vividly," he answered hoarsely. And then his lips claimed hers.