A/N: I know it's been like, a year (okay, two months), but I just felt like this needed an epilogue.
Werewolf, Epilogue
Remus shivered and pulled the cloak closer around him. His breath froze in the cold winter air and mingled with the breath of his companions. A trill of excitement, fear, and nervousness flowed through him. This was it. This was the moment they had worked for, prepared for. He only hoped it would all pay off.
It had been two months since the attack on the school. One month since Remus had helped Hermione through her first transformation. Three weeks since the feral pack had reemerged and attacked a Muggle village without warning. And six days since Remus had become a spy for the Order once again.
As they had suspected, a raid was planned for that night's full moon. The ferals would attack the town, kill all who came in their paths, wreak havoc and despair everywhere they went… the works. The only thing they had not anticipated was the army of Aurors waiting for them. Remus had done his job well.
As night approached, however, Remus fought the fear threatening to overtake his mind. He couldn't help but remember the last time he had been in a situation like this, and the condition he had been in when he emerged from it.
I must be crazy, he thought wryly as he removed his cloak. But then, I already knew that.
The moon rose, and chaos reigned.
It was late the next night when Remus finally returned to Hogwarts. The operation had been a success, for the most part. A few ferals had escaped the trap, and were still at large, but they wouldn't be for long. The young werewolf professor felt content to know that his part in the whole business was over, and that he could go back to the job, the place, and the people that he loved.
Remus walked silently through the halls to his rooms; already forming lesson plans for the next day in his head. He couldn't wait to see all his students, but one student in particular jumped to the forefront.
He unlocked the door and stepped into the main room. He immediately caught sight of her, curled up on his couch with one of his sweaters as a pillow, the worry lines and newly formed wrinkles smoothed over in sleep. A few strands of gray stood out in her bushy brown hair, signs of her newly acquired condition. He smiled, and walked over to her.
Stroking her face with one scarred hand, he settled himself down on the floor next to the couch and laid his head against the cushions, right next to her hand. It only took a few minutes for him to fall asleep, here, where everything felt so right.
A/N: Incredibly stupid and pointless, I know, but what the heck?
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