How High the Moon

.ψ.

Chapter Eight: Things Like You

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Loving things like you has wrecked my life, made me cry
Loving things like you has made me lose my mind
And I can't figure out why I've been hanging on
To all these things I've tried to leave behind me for so long

And I think it's time to find a better way to live my life
Than loving all those things that keep me wrapped so tight

Everyone wants everyone else's everything
Some time's the more we have the less we really gain
I'm tired of life and all that money has to buy
Get out of my heart, out of my mind, leaving you behind

-'Things Like You', Sanctus Real

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The stars came out one by one as the sun went down, glimmering like drops of sweat on your upper lip after a long Quidditch practice. Crickets took up their little violins and began another movement of the subtle twilight symphony. A low-slung farm house with a large porch lay nestled safely in Downy Hills. Warm, cheerful light spilled out of its many windows and onto the garden. There on the porch, a swing was occupied by a man who was hiding from the welcoming chatter of his friends inside. The wind rustled his rusty hair affectionately.

Yes, despite the wonder of all this natural beauty, a great, angry lump sat brooding on the porch.

This lump happened to be named Charlie Weasley.

Fury burned inside him as he realized his stupid assumptions had once again landed him in a world of trouble. He had always had a bit of a problem with that. The last time he had made the mistake of a hasty assumption, he had gotten a month's worth of detentions with Filtch. Right now, he would have traded for a year's worth if it meant he could forget what she had said.

"They put me in Slytherin for a reason, after all."

He had discovered a truth more infuriating than he knew how to handle. He hated her for not telling him, for luring him against his will into a friendship with a Slytherin. There was not a single act on earth so intrinsically wrong as Charlie Weasley befriending a Slytherin. He would rather die.

They had made his life hell back at Hogwarts. He'd been Slytherin's favorite target. They gleefully embarrassed and harassed him at every turn, insulting his family in Potions when he couldn't do anything about it, chucking waste bins at him, chucking him into waste bins … the list went on. He had been a shy kid, and hadn't had many friends, which only made things harder. Bill had tried to be a proper big brother and protect him, but Charlie hated feeling helpless and told him to shove off by the first Christmas break.

Even as he got older and gained more respect as a Quidditch player and a good friend, the entire Slytherin house had enjoyed humiliating him whenever possible. He slowly got better at defending himself, but it never completely stopped. Infuriating memories of their torment swirled around: the time they'd shoved his head in a bowl of pudding, the time they had stolen his knickers and charmed them to fly around the great hall…

They were bastards and wankers, every last sodding one of them. Slytherins were soulless, heartless gits who liked nothing better than tricking people and hurting them. He still could hardly believe that Stella was one of them, but he knew that she would be no different than the rest now that her secret was out. She had been lying from day one, pretending to be a kind, caring person. It had all been a brilliant act and he, being the troll that he was, had fallen for it.

He should have known better than to be fooled by a pretty face, a warm smile, and a nice pair of … (no, best not to think about that) … well, he just should have known better.

Honestly, was that warm, hot coco smile even real? Was it just another act? What did he know about her when push came to shove? He had only spent six months with her, after all.

How could he have been daft enough to think that you could actually get to know someone in just six months? He had been off his head to imagine that he had feelings for a woman he barely knew! Her little secret had shown him that despite the easy comradery he had been deluded to believe in, she might as well be a complete stranger.

He saw everything in a whole new light. Each word, each gesture took on new meaning now that he knew that she was really a dark witch. The way she enjoyed burning things now seemed ominous and sinister. (He ignored the fact that he liked to blow things up as much as the next chap) Even the way she held her knife when eating made him squeamish.

Every memory of her company was tainted by the fact that she was what she was. Even the ones that he treasured the most looked different now. The day he met her back at Wallachia, she had been called away immediately after reattaching his leg. He hadn't given it much thought at the time, but now he remembered that she excused herself just after he had mentioned that he was a Gryffindor. To think he'd found it endearing, the way she used to stare into the camp fires up at the gorge! Now he knew that she was probably just to busy plotting evil things to join in the conversations.

Now that he knew, he would never be able to look at her the way he used to.

Merlin's knackers, why had he ever trusted her? What had he seen in her?

Worst of all, part of him wanted nothing more than to burst in, scoop her up and apologize for doubting her. He wanted to tell her that he didn't care what house she'd been in, or if she practiced the dark arts, or even if she was using him as a pawn in an evil plot for you-know-who. He wanted to say that he didn't care, but he couldn't.

You only did something like that for someone you were madly in love with and despite being lonely lately, Charlie knew that he did not love Stella. Even if she had been a Gryffindor, it wouldn't have changed that. He had cared about her, he knew. He had thought of her as a friend (and spent more time thinking about how to get her into a broom closet than he should have) but he did not love her. And nothing short of desperate undying love could ever change the fact that she had deceived him.

Charlie was dead tempted to skip dinner, forget the fact that he was here to receive a new assignment for the order, and fly back to the burrow to think things over.

That's it! He'd slip out before anyone noticed the obvious sting of betrayal in the slump of his shoulders. He'd get back to the empty house, turn up his music and curse every lawn gnome in sight. He would drink himself silly and cry like a baby while he had the luxury of privacy.

But he got no further than the corner of the house when low and behold, he heard her voice.

A sliver of his mind still traitorously jumped when it heard her dark chocolate tone. He had always wondered if her mouth would taste as mellow and bittersweet as her voice sounded.

Damn! For a moment he had almost forgotten to hate her for lying to him. He quickly got a hold of himself though, when he heard the gruff murmur of a man's voice in reply. A stab of jealousy shot through him. So now that he knew she was a slimy Slytherin, she went off and found the next available guy to seduce?

Under most other circumstances, Charlie would have discretely walked away from what was obviously a private conversation. He prided himself on not being overly nosey or intruding unwanted into other people's business. But the age old green-eyed monster called envy reared up its ugly head and bit him where it would hurt the most. He squatted down behind a leafy petunia plant and waited for his prey, peering between the broad foliage.

Even if she was a snake, she was still good looking and he had missed his shot at her. He was jealous, he would admit it! So who had she found to replace him, anyway? He tried to remember the names and faces of the other male members their age. Alvaro? Quinn? He entertained graphic thoughts of snapping the unwary bloke's neck.

Needless to say, Charlie was surprised to see Stella round the corner with none other than Remus Lupin, her sister's fiancé. She didn't look like she was trying to trick him or seduce him at all. In fact, Charlie could hardly even call her expression friendly. She looked about as festive as a headsman with an axe. When they were close enough for him to listen in, he found that his guess was not far off.

"She is my baby sister, Mr. Lupin." She strolled along with her hands clasped behind her back. An aura of judgment hung on her shoulders like an invisible shroud.

"I think Nympha would object to that viewpoint." Lupin tried to lighten the mood. "And please, call me Remus. You are family now."

She gave him an undecided, appraising glance. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. That is why I asked you out here, Mr. Lupin."

The older man let out a frustrated sigh. From the sounds of it, she had been giving the poor chap the third degree for a while now.

"Look here, Miss Tonks." It seemed that calm, placid Lupin might actually be losing his patience with her. This would be something to see. "Just because I am a werewolf does not mean that I am the scum of the earth. I am not a degenerate monster. I am not going to rip out Nymphadora's throat in the middle of the night. I am not going to decapitate her and sate my blood lust! Merlin, I would never hurt a hair on her head! I love-"

His pitch was beginning to climb, but Stella cut him off.

"First of all, Mr. Lupin, it's Estrella, Not Tonks. Secondly, I am well aware of the plight of the modern werewolf. You might even say I'm sympathetic."

"Oh really?" The shabby looking, sweater-vest-wearing wizard replied with uncharacteristic sarcasm. "Somehow, spending the last half hour being questioned six ways from Sunday does little to assure me of your non-bias."

"I would do no less to any man who wanted to marry Nyms. Your condition has very little to do with it. I love her, it's that simple. I will be an over protective big sister until the day they start digging my grave."

Lupin grunted noncommittally, and glared up at a waxing quarter moon. "My entire life has been based around 'my condition', as you so delicately put it. Nearly everyone I've ever met has run or tried to hurt me when they found out. Even most of the order members tiptoe around me like I'm contagious. What makes you so likely to be any different?"

"I've been working in the third basement since the day I left Hogwarts, Mr. Lupin. It wouldn't really go very well for me down there if I was a bigot, now would it?"

"The thir… That's impossible, only healers and… Who told you that?" He demanded, absolutely flabbergasted.

Charlie had no idea what they were talking about. Third basement? Was it some sort of code? Was Lupin a dark wizard too?

No. That was ridiculous. He was a member of the Order. Dumbledore had trusted him. And besides, Mr. Lupin was a Gryffindor! He couldn't be on the other side. He was dangerous, but that wasn't his fault.

But then what were they talking about?

"If you must know, Mr. Lupin, I specialize in lycanthropy and creature injuries at St. Mungo's … used to at least. Another story for another day. I also happen to have my doctorate in curative research, and I studied under Damocles Belby himself. I am not a prejudiced idiot, nor am I an undereducated villager with a torch and pitchfork and I would thank you not to treat me as such."

Quiet and cricket music reigned supreme for a moment. Lupin obviously hadn't known. Hell, even Charlie hadn't known about her studying with Belby. Despite the fact that Charlie resented her, he had to allow that he was a bit impressed. Damocles Belby had been taking on fewer and fewer handpicked apprentices every year since he had invented the Wolfsbane potion. He was a very important man in the healing community. If Stella had been good enough to get accepted as one of his students, why had Mungo's sacked her?

They walked in silence at a snail's pace while Lupin digested what she had said. After a few minutes, Stella cocked her head and chuckled a little.

"In fact," She added with a thread of bitterness, "I would imagine that there are few people here tonight who can claim to understand your predicament half so well as I can."

Remus Lupin was not amused. "Enlighten me."

Her brief smile was a self depreciating. "You and I, we aren't so different. Sure, the Order is a bit more respectable since the battle at Ministry Headquarters but still, it's not exactly composed of the cream of the crop. And yet we remain in this group as two of the odder oddities. I guess you might say that you and I are the outcasts among the outcasts."

"I'm not sure I see where you draw the parallel, Miss … Estrella. I am a volatile, if unwilling, half-breed human. I have no hope of ever securing a steady income or permanent residence. You are a young woman with a promising career and a loving family." Mr. Lupin was his patient, understanding self once more. He looked truly concerned for her.

She simply shook her head. "Things are not always what they appear, Mr. Lupin. You would be surprised at how quickly even you might judge me if you were to look hard enough."

Lupin had the good sense to change the subject then, but Charlie noiselessly wished he hadn't. Stella had been about to confess! She was lying to everyone, and the sooner they knew, the better.

"So, Miss Estrella, do I pass muster yet? Am I allowed to go back to my fiancé and my treacle tart?" He said with his usual halfhearted, good-natured expression.

Stella studied him for a minute, the asked him a question so quietly that Charlie could barely hear it.

"Do you love her?" She whispered, looking away over the stars.

"Yes."

Remus didn't even blink.

"Then yes, I 'give you my blessing', for whatever its worth. Take care of her, love her, and don't give in when she whines, yes?"

Lupin threw back his head and laughed. It was the first time Charlie'd ever heard the man laugh sincerely. "I think I can handle that."

"Good. Then there's only one more condition to this agreement."

"Condition?"

"Yes. Would you consider …

Charlie never got to hear the rest of her sentence, because at that moment a sharp tangle of bony little limbs and spiky, sassafras hair fell off of the roof and onto his back.

Tonks had the worst sense of timing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Authoress's Notes: A waxing quarter moon is a term for when the moon is ¼ visible and is 'waxing', or increasing, leading up to a full moon. Waning is the opposite of waxing, when the moon's phases are leading up to a new moon.

I've started another Harry Potter fic that I think ya'll might enjoy. (You can find it by clicking on the link at the top of the page next to author and scrolling down.) It's called Athena's Spear, and is narrated by none other than our beloved Prof. McGonagall. The idea came from several incidents in the books where (I think at least) that Jo was giving us hints about Minerva's past. Please read, enjoy, and review.

Oh, and I changed the game idea. Questions are a stupid thing to put at the end of a chapter. Just make predictions like usual and maybe one of you lucky critters will pull a Trelawney on us.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Fenix- (10) Chuck? Haha! I never remembered that that is another name for Charlie … you've given me an idea and I'm going to have fun with it … (cackles an evil genius laugh!) Yes, he is a biased moron, as this chapter proves. It might take him a while to get over that, the git. No, no squirrels … at least not this chapter.

Possum- (8) Right on. There's nothing wrong with a little cunning. Too bad Charlie is being a troll about it. Poor girl. More of the 'crotchety badger'? Sorry, not this chapter, but coming soon. If you want a more immediate Alastor fix you might try my new fic, Athena's Spear. There will be Moody aplenty, especially in the next few chapters.

And what do you mean 'or else'? Yeash, first Fenix here threatens me with riots, and now you threaten me. Reviewers these days, I tell you. They have no respect. Isn't that right Charlie?

Huh? Uh, right…

(purely joking on that last one)