I peered critically at my reflection in the mirror. My dark blonde hair fell loose below my shoulders and touch of makeup highlighted my hazel eyes.

Yes, that would do, I concluded as my lips curved upwards in a private smile. I didn't want to appear overly made-up when I met Remus. The same logic applied to my outfit: a simple button-down shirt, jeans and boots. On the other hand, that I had bothered with the make up at all was mute testimony to the fact that I was more concerned about my appearance than I readily cared to admit, even to myself.

I glanced at the parchment lying on the bed alongside the accompanying lovely green and silver scarf. It had surprised me when Remus had responded so quickly to my letter. Barely an hour had passed when his package arrived.

Dear Sarah,

Meet me at the Double Star fountain on Lovers Walk in Hyde Park at 6pm. Wear the enclosed scarf.

RJL

I wondered briefly about the location. Hyde Park was not part of the wizard community. Yet at the same time, I felt a little thrill. He had answered my letter despite the enormous time and distance that had separated us. Perhaps he had remembered me with kindness.

Remus had even sent a scarf, although the logical side of my head pointed out that this was more than likely a simple method of identifying me. How else would he recognize me? No longer was I the tomboyish girl who wore her hair in pigtails.

I picked the long scarf up and examined it closely. It was exquisitely made with small silver snakes that chased the edges. The silky material slithered through my hands with a soft rustle. I held it up to my nose and inhaled. Oddly enough where I expected the distinct scent of a male werewolf, there was only a lingering musty smell that was reminiscent of mothballs.

Hmm … probably the scent was of whatever store he had brought it from. I shrugged. It's the thought that counted, right? I slipped on my black jacket and I tucked the scarf under the collar. The fringed ends fluttered outside the jacket, just below my waist. Then I pushed up my sleeves so that my enchanted bracelet was clearly visible and headed out, purse in hand.

The trip to Hyde Park was uneventful. I arrived ten minutes early and sat down on the edge of the fountain. Foot traffic was average for this time of day. Luckily it wasn't a Sunday; otherwise the Speaker's Corner would have been filled. Pedestrians walked by, chatting with each other. Couples holding hands strolled along. On the busy street nearby, double-decker buses lumbered between darting taxi cabs; the distasteful smell of their exhaust this close to the full moon made me want to leave the city.

I watched it all, alternating between anxiety and impatience. Each man that approached was examined carefully with the question in mind whether it was Remus. How tall would he be? We were of a similar height as kids, but that might mean nothing now. Did he still have the light brown hair that I remembered? The shy, mischievous smile? My fingers kept playing with my bracelet, rubbing the silver heart charm. Perhaps we could share a toast of Wolfsbane potion as we discussed the past.

That's probably why I didn't notice the dog at first. It was a big, black mutt with neither collar nor owner in sight. As a rule, dogs don't scare me. They haven't since the first time I changed in the light of the full moon. Animals like wolves and dogs could tell a werewolf by scent alone and often became skittish, even when the werewolf was in human form. One good whiff and dogs kept their distance.

But not this one; it boldly approached me. I stood up and gave it a good, hard look, trying to warn it off when it did the unexpected. It gathered its legs beneath it and leaped at me. Natural instinct made me stumble backwards. My legs connected with the fountain's edge and I nearly tumbled in. While I was fighting to keep my balance, the dog daintily grabbed one of the ends of the scarf and tugged. In a flash, the silky material slithered around my collar and off.

"Hey!" I yelled. The dog whirled around and ran, the scarf fluttering behind it like a banner. I took off after it. There was no way I was going to let that mangy mutt get away with the scarf. Remus had sent it to me! The dog flitted between walkers and darted off out of the park. I lost sight of it as it fled down an underground passage that led to the other side of the busy street.

When I entered the tunnel, I slowed down. The sound of my boots echoed as I cautiously made my way forward. It was gloomy down there; shadows gathered along the walls. Although my night vision was always good thanks to my lycanthropy, I couldn't make out the dog. My nose picked up the scent of magic just as my bracelet started to tingle.

That's no ordinary dog.

A congenial male voice rang out from the shadows, "So, you're Remus' Muggle friend." A man stepped out of the shadows. In his hand was my green and silver scarf, which he was stuffing into a pocket of his robes.

I held my ground as footsteps approached. "That's right, Animagus. I'm Sarah Forsythe. And you are?"

"James Potter," he answered with a cocky grin. He stepped closer to me with his hands opened, palms out, to show he had no intention of harming me. "Remus sent me to meet you. He got caught up in something unexpected and didn't want you to think he had stood you up. Sorry about grabbing the scarf, I just wanted you to follow me out the Muggle park."

I ran the name James Potter through my mind. I thought I had heard of it before, but it was elusive, like trying to track a sneaky fox.

That's it! I had it. Remus had mentioned the name in one of the few letters he had sent from Hogwarts. It said a lot that not only did I still have those letters in their faded envelopes secure in a box beneath my bed back home, but that I could remember the enclosed details after all those years.

We shook hands and that's when I first caught the faint scent of male werewolf. This close to the moon, that whiff was almost heady. Apparently James had been in recent contact with Remus. It was all the confirmation I needed. When James suggested we wait at his home where Remus was staying as a guest, I readily agreed.

I leaned forward across large kitchen table, a warm cup of tea in my hand. James was quite a charming fellow. He had Side-Along Apparated me directly to his home, fed me scones and tea, and had been the perfect gentlemen. It ended up that the green and silver scarf enclosed in Remus' letter had been James' idea, just so I could be easily spotted. It had once belonged to his deceased mother.

No wonder it smells like mothballs. Oh well, green really isn't my color.

That wasn't the only scent I had picked up. Without a doubt, Remus had been here, often if I was right. Yet so had many others. Traces were layered one over the other. Had there been a gathering of some sort? It piqued my curiosity.

James himself proved quite the inquisitive sort. Then again, just how many Muggle werewolves does a wizard run across? I've only met two others in my life. I answered his questions good-naturedly. Remus unsurprisingly had not been very forthcoming about how he happened to infect a Muggle. Most werewolves don't like to discuss those types of matters with outsiders. So I sat there relaying the censored version of how I became a werewolf. Censored because there were things that were strictly between Remus and I; things that lingered in the heart, like first love, kisses and silly childhood promises made at twilight.

I would have to deal with those later, when Remus arrived. For now I enjoyed speaking to James. When I finished my abbreviated tale, I turned the tables on him and started firing away my own questions. I had never met one of Remus' friends and had no problem pumping him with all the skills the Bureau had given me for information regarding my old friend.

Remus had written me a handful of letters during the first two months he attended Hogwarts. He had described the ancient castle with its numerous ghosts, moving stairs and Houses. From those letters, I had learned about subjects like Transfiguration and Potions. It was in them that he had revealed the names of his new friends and that he had been looking forward to seeing me again over the Christmas break.

Then silence. The letters had stopped. I had waited each day for an owl to come, but the skies above my house remained empty except for the occasional raven and the ever present rain clouds. Those days of November had never felt so cold or lonely.

I shook off the dreary memory as James began to tell me about some of the pranks he had played on his fellow students. That Remus would be involved in such tricks was not surprising. He had always been the quiet yet mischievous sort. It was obvious that James had been the leader, though. Soon enough, I was laughing as I hadn't for months. James had such an animated way in relaying a story that I could almost see the events he described.

"So there Remus was, trying to hold down the damn cat while I painted it the colors of our House." James held his arms out as if trying to wrangle an invisible feline on the table. "Fur was everywhere, in our hair, stuck to our robes and Mrs. Norris was caterwauling as -"

Several loud cracks resounded close by halted James' storytelling in mid-sentence. The scent of magic filled the air and my bracelet quivered. Numerous voices came from upstairs.

Did one of the voices belong to Remus?

James looked about apprehensively as he lowered his arms. The smell of anxiety spiced his otherwise pleasant scent. I was about to ask what was the matter when the kitchen door opened and a herd of people tromped through.

"-I've told you a dozen times, there is no need to whip your wands out for every – Oh, I give up!"* A plump middle-aged witch with a flushed face marched into the kitchen. She was followed by a brood of redheaded teenagers included a young girl that look familiar. Everyone was loaded down with packages.

"But Mum, it was just-"

"I don't want to hear another word, George!"

For a moment, I was startled. That was the witch that had pulled her daughter away when she spotted me in Diagon Alley. Just as I arrived at that realization, the witch caught sight of me and pulled up short. We both stared at each other.

"Honestly, Mum. I'm Fred, not George," one of her sons corrected her, despite his mother's shift in attention from her twins.

A bushy-haired girl with her nose in a book absently pushed her way through the knot of redheads near the door. She was closely followed by a young man in glasses, who looked surprised to see a stranger in the kitchen.

Turning my attention back to the short middle-aged witch, I got an odd sinking feeling in my stomach when she lit into James.

"What is the meaning of this, Sirius? Bringing in an outsider? Here?" With each question, her voice rose.

I glanced over at James. Why is she calling him Sirius? The name niggled at my brain, but I pushed it aside and narrowed my eyes at him. "You said your name was James Potter."

"James Potter?" the bespectacled teen asked. "He's not my dad!"

The wizard formerly known as James held up his hands in defense. "I can explain," he started as I rose from the kitchen table.

"Bloody hell, what's a Muggle doing here?" the youngest redheaded boy asked.

The girl with the book spared me a glance and then rolled her eyes. "Really Ron, look at her wrist. Can't you feel the magic her bracelet radiates? She's obviously a wizard-friend."

"Most of the time," I agreed with the girl, my voice dropping low and edging towards a growl. "But right now, I'm more of a pissed-off werewolf." I ignored their alarmed murmuring and stalked towards Sirius, who was backing away. It was obvious the letter I had received had been a fake. I had been duped and my temper, always near the surface this close to the full moon, was rising. "Let me guess. Remus never saw my letter."

"I never saw what letter?" a hoarse voice asked. I swung my gaze back toward the kitchen door. A wizard in rumpled brown robes strode in with a cute young woman with pink hair at his side.

I stared at this slightly bedraggled stranger I had never laid eyes on before and knew in an instant it was Remus. His light brown hair was now sprinkled with grey and his tired face was much older than the image in my head, but there was no doubt. Then I drew in a deep breath and his scent flooded over me. It was slightly spicy and smoky with musky undertones and the taste of something distinctly untamed. It was intoxicating. My hands clenched into fists, not out of anger, but out of need to stave off the wolf lurking within me.

"Hello, Remus." My voice was husky and filled with unspoken emotions. My scent must have hit him right then because he froze in his tracks and his nose flared as he inhaled deeply. A frown marred his forehead in mild confusion and I realized his face bore scars I hadn't seen before. Were they from other werewolves or inflicted by his own claws during the transformation?

Sirius took advantage of my distraction. He slipped out the corner I had almost trapped him in and over to Remus, where he handed him a yellow parchment. I watched quietly as Remus leaned against one of the counters and began to read. The young woman, who was obviously a witch, remained at his side. She alternately peered at the letter and then at me. The spiky scent of jealousy rolled off her in waves and envy marred her pretty features as she possessively stepped closer to Remus. There were daggers in her eyes for me. If she had been a wolf, her hackles would have risen.

My fingers found the bracelet and the little silver heart.

Remus closed his eyes abruptly as if in pain. Then he lower his head and touched his temple in a movement that shielded his face from view. The other hand that held my letter closed convulsively, crumpling the parchment while the rest of him went utterly still. The pink-haired witch laid a comforting arm across his shoulders.

The room was awkwardly quiet and a tension hung in the air thick enough to shred with claws. In that heavy silence, something inside of me tore as I realized I had been wrong; wrong to write to Remus, wrong to come. Why would Remus have anything to do with me? I was just a Muggle, a reminder of an event he probably wanted to forget. My eyes burned and the scones I had eaten were a leaden weight in my stomach as I fought to breathe.

"Forgive me," I muttered, "this was a terrible mistake."

I tore my eyes away from Remus and grabbed my purse from the table. Before anyone could react, I raced from the room, pushing past the gaggle of teenagers and up the stairs. Thankfully the hallway led straight to the front door. I bolted out into the cool twilight and slipped away into the sheltering shadows of the fog-cloaked London streets.


Notes:

A line was used from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, by JKRowling, chapter five, page 84, US hardback edition.