A/N: Hopefully I'll be better at updating… but I'm not promising anything. But I will try. So I hope you are enjoying this story, as I am enjoying writing it… so anon…

The Love of a Werewolf chapter 2: The way of an old man

Remus woke up early that morning. He stretched lazily as he pulled himself out of bed walking towards the window of the dark room, pulling open the dark curtains and throwing open the window. He breathed in deep the morning fresh air, smelling the sweet dew on the grass on the earth bellow.

At least it should be a nice day. Remus thought to himself.

He stretched his long limbs again and walked with a slight limp to his gait as he went into the bathroom, setting the taps for a shower and stepped under the cool jets of water falling all around him. He placed both hands against the wall and leaned hard, closing his eyes, willing the pain to wash away. But it didn't and he knew it never would.

Stepping out of the shower he dried his body roughly with a towel, every second making him wake up more. He dropped the towel to the floor and walked back into Sirius' room, picking up some clothes as he passed the chair they were carelessly strewn over.

He pulled on his fading jeans, then baggy grey t-shirt. He spent a few minutes rummaging round for a pair of socks settling on an odd pair, then he pulled on his navy blue knitted jumper that Molly had made him several Christmas' back. Then he raked his hair out of his face and shook his limbs.

Time for a walk. He thought to himself.

Remus casually walked down the stairs and through the hall, Molly and the kids would be arriving in a few hours, so to pass that time a walk would be good. As he reached the front door he pulled his shabby cloak down from the cloak stand and strolled outside.

He sighed deeply as he felt the cool fresh air of the morning, throwing his cloak around his shoulders.

Yes it would be a nice day, nice weather and good company. So snap out of it. He told himself.

He continued to walk down the path. Memories would be all he had now,

And that should be enough.

It would be Harry's birthday in a few days time he really needed to get back to his normal appearance. He then tried to smile, but he just couldn't do it.

As he generally was a tidy person, preferring order to chaos, unlike Sirius who set the place askew at Grimmauld Place leaving Remus to tidy up in his wake, he had nothing to clean. With Sirius now gone he no longer needed to tidy, as the house was constantly just that… tidy and clean ready for Molly to arrive.

He looked around at the world that knew nothing of the war brewing on their land. He shook his head wishing he could live in such ignorance. But he couldn't, he knew too much, he was already a part of this war, so he would fight and most likely die in this war. But he would fight all the same, for Sirius' sake and for Harry's life.

He walked along the cul-de-saced streets, finally reaching the old park. He sat down stiffly on the broken wooden bench under the protective canopy of an old oak. The sun was slowly rising in the east and he felt the warm rays flicker through the leaves of the oak onto his face. He closed his eyes enjoying that feeling of being kissed by the sun and tickled by the breeze.

Remus had been sat like that for a while, a long while at that. He slowly stood up stretching his spine. Oh how stiff he was! With his damn leg healing from his last transformation into a werewolf, a pretty grizzle one at that. He could vaguely remember the pain of the werewolf at loosing his mate and play pal, howling sadly at the moon and he remembered banging repeatedly against the walls and biting and scratching. He shook his head, to get the memories away. It was better not to dwell on his time spent as the wolf… it was just better not to.

As he walked back to the noble and most darkest house of black he hummed quietly to himself. He put his hands in his pockets and walked slowly, looking forward to the day ahead and yet also not looking forward to it.

As number twelve squeezed in between eleven and thirteen he strolled up the path and entered. He placed his cloak back on the stand and decided that he could sweep the hallway and kitchen as he waited for them to arrive.

He swept the hallway in silence as he eyed the curtains hiding the portrait of Mrs Black. Once he had done this, he walked back down the stairs to the kitchen opening the window wide then he instinctively made coffee for himself then sat at the table. He pulled over the Daily Prophet newspaper from last week and began to read it for the eleventh time that week.

As he was reaching the final pages of the paper he heard shuffling noises above him in the hallway, they must be here. He folded the paper and made his way up the stairs as fast as his leg would allow him to greet his friends.

T.B.C…

A/N: Just a short chapter, not much happened sorry, but I couldn't just add action in for the sake of it. Next chapter promises to have a bit more 'stuff' in it, as this chapter was just a contemplative one. Don't worry nir meril… there will be updates!