"Remus, do you know why you're here with me today?"
"You want to convince me not to hate Moira and Sirius."
"No. Remus, I'm here to help you. We don't even have to talk about Moira and Sirius if you don't want to."
"I don't."
"That's perfectly acceptable. What would you like to talk about?"
"Nothing. I don't want to talk about anything."
"Nothing? Come now, Remus. There must be something."
"There isn't."
"Why don't you tell me about your brother? Tell me about the day he died."
"Why?"
"Professional curiosity."
"Romulus died when we were six. We were out playing in the woods behind our home when we were attacked by-"
"By what?"
"A werewolf. We were attacked by a werewolf."
"Is that when you were bitten, yes?"
"Yes. It jumped on me from behind a tree. Romulus threw a rock at it, and it went after him. The last time I saw him, he was being dragged into the forest."
"Is this difficult for you?"
"What do you think?"
"Tell me, Remus, do you blame yourself?"
Silence.
"Remus?"
"That he was killed? No. I was a kid. There was nothing I could do about it."
"No. That you lived and he didn't."
"I don't blame myself. Guilt, maybe. No blame."
"Guilt?"
"Like when something really bad happens to someone else, but not you. You feel kind of guilty. It's not your fault, but you feel like you should have had bad luck as well."
"So you think you should have died too?"
"That would have been fair, wouldn't it?"
"Would you have liked to have died?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"A valid one. Do you wish you would have been killed too?"
"No. I'm glad to be alive."
"Why?"
"Is this where we start talking about my childhood?"
"If you want it to be."
"Albus, how's Remus doing?"
"Moira, it's only been six weeks. You can't expect results too quickly."
"I know. I just wanted to know how he was doing." Moira slid into a chair before Dumbledore's desk where he had only moments ago been making notes in the tiny margin of a large leather bound book.
"I spoke with Anya yesterday. She said Remus was making progress. But you must remember, Moira, that that doesn't mean he's cured."
"I know. I've studied psychology. It's excruciatingly slow. I just wanted to hear some good news."
"How are you doing?"
"Me?" The side of her mouth crooked up into a half smile. "I feel like I've been put on hold, and I'm doing a little dance waiting for an operator to pick up."
"A reference to telephones?"
"Yeah."
"Be patient, child."
She slumped further in her seat, feeling much like a hopeless student who had no hope of passing a class.
"I've tired. I really have. But I'm beginning to feel like- like it wasn't meant to be." Her bottom lip trembled slightly as she looked off to the side to hide the tears swelling in her eyes. "Every time I feel like I've finally found him, he's taken away from me. Maybe the Fates are just working against us. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be."
"Moira," Dumbledore said patiently. "I can't pretend to know what the future has in store for all of us. What I do know, is that sometimes life is hard for a reason. It strengthens us when we need it most. I know this had been difficult for you, and I'm not going to tell you to go or stay. You must decide what it is that you really want."
"I know. That's the hard part."