The sun had set exactly two minutes and fifty three seconds ago.
There were exactly three minutes and twenty six seconds until moonrise.
Three minutes and twenty six seconds until Remus entered Hell. Until he became one of its demons. One of its monsters.
He wished he didn't have to go. Not again.
He wished that he could even have just this night off. Even if he had to go back twenty eight days later.
There was no use in wishing, though. If wishing was any good, he would have stopped going long ago.
If wishing was any good, he would be back in Gryffindor Tower, likely while watching Sirius Black and James Potter working on some type of plot, all while them begging him to join them, all while trying to help Peter Pettigrew with his charms essay. Remus would shake his head a few times, insisting that schoolwork was more important, then suggesting that they do their work.
Sirius would complain while James continued trying to persuade him to join them. Eventually, he would crack and reluctantly sit down on James' bed as they planned some sort of prank.
Two minutes and forty two seconds.
Wishing was pointless. Remus had known that since the night he had been bitten. Since the night that had nailed his childhood into a coffin.
He kept doing it anyway. He couldn't stop.
Merlin, he wished he could stop. Now, in particular. Wishing that he could somehow be with his friends, somehow be normal, physically hurt. Or maybe that was just the moon, already beginning to tug at his bones.
Remus couldn't tell. At this point, it didn't matter. There were two minutes and seventeen seconds until moonrise.
Was wishing any good, Peter would have come over to join them, carrying a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Sirius would bet Remus that he wouldn't try the green one. Remus would pop it in his mouth and announce that it was kiwi flavored. James would look at him oddly and say, "Kiwhat?" Remus would explain what a kiwi was.
James would nod, then insist that Peter wouldn't try the pink one. Peter would try it, spit it out, and tell them that it tasted like worm. They would all laugh, and the boys would continue the game until they ran out.
One minute and fifty one seconds.
Remus glanced towards the boarded up window on the other side of the room. The moon's glow wasn't visible yet. The stars were, though. They made holes in the endless blanket of night that covered the sky.
Speaking of stars, they would be having Astronomy that night.
Was wishing any good, Remus would glance at his watch and realize that they needed to get into bed if they planned on getting any sleep before class. He'd inform the rest of his dorm mates, all of whom would complain, but eventually relent. They'd pull their hangings and get a few hours of sleep before Peter's alarm would startle them out of sleep.
Either Sirius would fall out of his bed trying to turn it off, then hit the floor cussing. If the alarm hadn't woken them, his exclamation of "bloody hell! I told you to keep it within arms reach of the bed, Pettigrew!" would.
They would hustle to get ready for class, then, tripping over their robes, run to the Astronomy Tower, just barely on time.
One minute and ten seconds.
Remus continued with his fantasy. Better to wish and be disappointed than to wait for the seconds to creep by until his countdown hit zero.
Was wishing any good, Astronomy would drag on a bit, then it would finish. They'd make for the dorms, then change their minds, headed for the dungeons. James would find the portrait of the fruit, tickle the pear, then happily lead them into the kitchens.
Sirius would ask the house elves for chicken, Peter for some sort of dessert, James for whatever he was feeling in the moment- noodles, perhaps- and Remus would ask for chocolate.
Remus' skin prickled.
Twenty two seconds.
The house elves would hurry to appease them, and once the boys had their food, they'd talk and laugh amongst themselves.
Seventeen seconds.
Once they'd finished, they would sneak back up to the dormitory and collapse in their beds, not even bothering to change into pajamas.
Four seconds.
If only wishing was any good.
Three.
Remus steeled himself.
Two.
The wishing was over.
One.
The moon had risen, and there was no wishing that away.
Zero.