Disclaimer: I'm not putting one. I wanna see if JKR actually reads these things.

Plot Bunny: Look, a new story! And you won't finish it, and you'll be stuck with me forever!!!!!

Remus' POV. Slightly AU but really, aren't all stories?

It happened over the summer before Harry's sixth year. He was spending the holidays at the Burrow and I had gone to see him. Hermione was there, of course; Peanut Butter and Jelly are practically inseparable as long as the Bread is there to hold them together.

She hadn't changed that much. Her hair was more tamed, her legs longer, her chest more... ahem. She was just an ordinary, plain young woman.

Yet, the sight of her brought a blush to my cheeks and a strange, pleasant feeling to my stomach. Her scent made me dizzy and lightheaded. The sound of her laughter never failed to bring smile to my face, no matter where I was.

"What's so amusing about the obituaries?" Arthur Weasley had asked me.

I left early, promising to return to escort Harry to London. The moon, I had explained.

"Ah yes, the wolf," Mrs. Weasley had said, a sympathetic look in her eye.

I AM the wolf, you stupid woman.

Sirius had known better. He had pestered me until I had caved.

"I see. Young blood. The wolf is after the lamb, eh?" Sirius had winked and clapped me on the back.

It was too easy to believe, yet everyone did. Blame all of poor Remus' faults on the wolf.

The wolfsbane potion, it seemed, had side effects no one had foreseen or made sense to except by those that are werewolves. Wolfsbane suppresses the mind of the wolf, and slowly kills it. But the man and the wolf are one; the same being with two different physical forms. Ergo, the man is also slowly killed.

I told no one. Not that anyone would be too terribly upset. But there was enough worry and sadness in their worlds without me adding to it.

News of Harry's victory over Voldemort reached our ears hours after the rumors that Harry was the last one standing. Being the only one within arms' reach, I found myself victim to Hermione's grasp and tears. Not that I minded. A quick cold spell solved my only problem with... that.

Years passed. Hermione got older. I got old. Determined to keep my impending death a secret, I lost touch with everyone except Harry. Hermione reached out to me every now and then but I never reached back, and every full moon Severus would floo in with the wolfsbane potion.

Severus finally noticed. Not that my pale skin, lack of appetite or energy were any clues. I coughed up blood in front of him. When the week of the full moon was over, I found myself admitted into St. Mungo's.

Harry pursued Quidditch, which would be his doom. It was ironic; the Boy Who Lived would die in such an un-heroic way, in a game that was lost.

Draco Malfoy surfaced. He challenged Ron Weasley, the man who had defeated him the first time, to a duel. As strict as the laws are, duels to the death were still allowed.

It was a full moon the evening she came to me. Sitting at the window sill, she had sat down beside me, wrapped an arm around my shoulders. Drained of energy, I let her guide my head to her lap where her hand stroked my hair. Her fingers would sometimes touch my face, sending shivers through me.

As the sun finished its decent, she tried to persuade me to drink a potion. A healing potion; the potion that healed everything. I had heard that she had been working on one, but I dared not believe it.

I refused.

"What's the point? My existence is a tired, tortured one." I stared into her eyes, trying to make her understand. When I turned tonight, it would be my last. "Let it end, Hermione."

"But..." Her voice shook, and tears welled up in her eyes as she looked down on me. "You're all I have left."

"Ron..."

"Both of them."

I couldn't take the look of sadness on her beautiful face, so I closed my eyes. Once more, she put the cup to my lips. I swallowed the bitter potion for her.

"I'm sorry," I whispered; sleep overtaking me, "that you have to see me turn."

"You won't."

I opened my eyes once more, and through those tears she was smiling at me.

Heha, I beat you.

Plot Bunny: Why me? Poof