IN MY VOICE

V. Ginny, Part 2: Typerys

"Kun sormi osoittaa kuuhun, typerys katsoo sormea."
-- Finnish proverb
Translation: "When a finger points to the moon, a fool will look at the finger."

I see the moon and not merely the finger that points to it. I always thought its glowing face was beautiful and fascinating. It controls the tides and supposedly makes some men go insane. Then there is my love who is a werewolf. Full well do I know the moon's effect on the tides of his psyche and sanity.

I don't think I have slept on the night of a full moon since we came together. I remain awake, and I watch and wait for him. I am compelled to be where he is. Even in his werewolf form he knows my scent and feels my presence. I do not fear the beast in him, but I also do not provoke its anger.

I asked him once if he would give up being a werewolf if it were possible. He was surprised at the question and immediately answered "Yes." It was a fast, easy and obvious answer, but it was almost too easy.

I know that pain helps make us who we are. No one normal, sane or healthy really craves it, but it is there. By now being a werewolf is so much a part of who he is, that I don't think he could imagine himself any other way.

It's not as if he is alone, for I know about darkness in the soul, too. Ask me about Tom some time, and I will tell you. Like Remus, I wish I were free of my demon, but it has been a part of me for so long that I don't know what it would feel like if it weren't there.

He goes out into the wild on these nights alone without Peter, James or Sirius, but his beast is calmed by the Wolfsbane Potion. When I hear him howl, I know he mourns for the many lost. As I watch and listen from a distance, I mourn with him as well.

How I pity the fool who only sees the finger and not the beautiful moon in the sky. It is the same for my Remus. I know that others can not truly see him as he really is. He is so much more than a werewolf or member of the Order, or any other title he has had in his life. He is the one who has come to love me completely when all others have seen me as the fool.

He made me come open to him when I didn't even know I was as closed as the Chamber. Maybe he sees in me that which is reflected in himself. I am the moon to his sun; only the tides of me he does not fear. Still, I move him to be more than he realizes.

To others he is guarded, and yet to me he is so passionate when he lets down his defenses. His passion is primal and sometimes it reminds him of the wolf. I embrace it and push him to the edge, thrilling to see what no other sees.

He will return to me in the morning smelling of blood and sweat. His body will glisten and shake from the trauma of transformation, yet he will be strong. When he reaches for me, he will press his naked flesh against mine and seek the comfort only I know how to give him. Together we will hide away from the sun and be thankful that another full moon has passed.

FIN