a.n. For ink-stained dreams, who wanted Remus. I'm glad she asked, I liked writing this.

love (and guilt)

Remus Lupin awoke slowly and reluctantly, his limbs harshly protesting any departure from the warm cocoon of his blankets. But his stomach growled with impatience; he was always hungrier than usual after the full moon. With a sigh, Remus swung his legs over the edge of his bed, wincing at the soreness of his muscles and the pain of the numerous bruises and scratches that covered his skin.

Eventually, he managed to slowly walk, grimacing all the while, from his room to the kitchen. He made close to no noise as he journeyed, and so when he rounded the corner to peer into the small room, the other person was not aware of his presence.

Remus stared at his mother, all thoughts of food wiped from his mind. She was clothed in an old robe that was beginning to fall apart at the seams. Her lank hair was unkempt. Her pale hands gripped the faded mug of tea in front of her, as if hoping to draw some warmth from liquid.

But it was her face, her expression, that tore Remus apart. The lines in her face were etched with worry. Her eyes managed to be filled with grief, despair, and emptiness all at once.

Remus knew that his transformations were incredibly difficult on her, but this was the first time that he was afforded a glimpse of just how much pain he was causing her. With the death of his father, Remus and his mother only had each other in terms of family, but Remus could now see just how much pain and hurt that his love for her and her return of those feelings were causing.

Maybe he made a small movement, caused a creak in the floorboards or a rustling of clothes, but suddenly his mother turned to the doorway that led out of the kitchen and into the corridor. She jolted out of her seat, and quickly came to her son's side.

"Oh Remus, you're awake. How are you feeling? Hungry? Thirsty? I'll have food ready in just a minute. Sit down and rest." She pushed him, albeit gently, into her recently vacated seat and began bustling around the tiny kitchen, pulling out dishes from the cupboard. The haunted expression had been replaced by one of love and care.

Remus felt sick.

"...and it's about time we got you some new robes. School is starting up again soon, and your old robes are just too short to keep for another year..." his mother continued, filling the silence with trivial nonsense, all in an attempt to keep her son from remembering what he had to suffer the previous night, keep his mind from focusing on the pain of the recently acquired wounds.

His mother stopped talking when her fourteen year old son wrapped his arms around her tightly, putting as many unspoken words as possible into the embrace. She returned the gesture, unaware that as Remus buried his face into her shoulder, he was attempting to bury the guilt that burned within him.

"Quit the worrying, Moony, I'm fine..."

"Honestly, it was only a scratch..."

"Yeah, and Padfoot has had much worse..."

"Shut up Wormtail..."

Remus let his friends words wash over him. He knew that they were attempting to ease the guilt that filled every fiber of his being...but it was to no avail.

The new Hogwarts nurse, Madam Pomfrey, had accepted the Marauder's lies about the truth of Sirius's injury (he had tripped and fallen on one of the numerous suits of armor, which had gashed open his leg) with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. But Remus knew the truth.

Two nights previous had been the full moon. The giant stag and dog usually could keep Moony at bay, but the werewolf within him had proved angry that night. Remus had woken in his usual bed in the Hospital Wing to an empty bedside. He had found this strange. Usually Peter or James or Padfoot (or some combination of them) would be waiting for him to wake.

And then just a few hours later, James and Peter had to carry Sirius into the Hospital Wing, the left leg of his trousers soaked through with blood. Remus had watched in shock and horror as the nurse flocked to his side, demanding answers while she hurried to heal him.

"We couldn't bring him up here immediately," Peter had whispered to Remus later as Sirius slept. "It would seem suspicious if he arrived with a giant gash the night after the full moon."

"It was hell trying to get him to transform back," James had added. "The pain didn't help. When we did, he told us that we could heal him ourselves, so we took him back to the dorm. We tried everything..."

"...but he came down with a fever," Peter had continued. "So we had to change his clothes so the wound seemed fresh, and cut the trousers to make the story seem real."

Remus looked around at his friends now, sitting on his bed and eating chocolate. Madam Pomfrey had discharged Sirius hours ago, but they had stayed to keep Remus company. And to keep me from feeling so guilty, Remus thought bitterly.

"Stop thinking so much, Moony," Sirius said, his tone nonchalant as he flicked a stray speck of chocolate from the bedsheets. "You know our rules on thinking."

"Sirius, you could have died." Remus's voice was hoarse from the lack of use over the past day and a half, but now he finally had to speak. "Do you not understand that?"

Peter nervously glanced over his shoulder to discover Madam Pomfrey's whereabouts, but the young nurse was in her office, oblivious to the conversation being held.

Sirius's eyes had darkened, but the cheerful expression on his face didn't waver. "Oh Moony, don't be so melodramatic. Died? Please..." he scoffed, biting off a large mouthful of the chocolate bar.

"I...I can't let you guys do this anymore," Remus said suddenly. His chest wrenched with pain as he envisioned the future full moons without his friends by his side, the pain he would have to endure...

"Don't be stupid."

All three turned to stare at Peter. Even he seemed shocked by his authoritative tone, but he continued on. "We're not ditching you, no matter what you say."

James's eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline, but Sirius clapped his hands together. "Well put Wormtail! Our rodent friend speaks the truth. Now," Sirius swung his legs off the bed and stood, "I'm off to the kitchens to plunder and pillage what food I can to bring back. Any requests?"

James and Peter quickly answered enthusiastically, but Remus sank back into his silence. He watched his three friends (bestfriends bestfriends bestfriends) squabble and quarrel, and once more felt the guilt wash through him. Who was he to deserve such friendship? He was a monster, and yet these three stood resolutely by him, determined to love them as he loved them. He knew better, but it couldn't be stopped.

Love and guilt, he thought to himself as Sirius marched out of the Hospital Wing, James and Peter continuing to call out food choices. Never one without the other for me...

Love and guilt he thought to himself once more, as he had done those many years ago in the Hospital Wing, surrounded by his friends.

He was no longer surrounded by his friends. James, dead for almost fifteen years. Peter, as good as dead to Remus for the same length of time. And Sirius...

God, it hurt to even think his name. Several months had passed since that terrible night in the Ministry, yet time had done little to ease the pain.

It didn't help that he was still in Grimmauld Place. He half expected Sirius to come out from the shadows, grumbling about being cooped up inside this dusty house.

Instead, he was seated at a table, pretending to listen as various members of the Order gave their reports. His mind wandered back to the original musing, Love and Guilt, and the reason he had stumbled on such a depressing thought.

Nymphadora Tonks was seated across the table and two seats to the left, gazing intently at the current speaker. A parchment and quill lay on the table in front of her, but Remus had yet to see her take any notes. This puzzled him, until he realized that if she turned to write, she might make eye contact with him.

He sighed deeply. Nymphadora had made no secret of her feelings for him, asking him to dinner several times. Eventually, he had to tell her that something between them was never going to work, and she would do well to find someone else.

That had been the hardest part, for Remus did harbor some feelings for her. She was beautiful, in an entirely unconventional way, but that was not the sole reason of his attraction to her. She was smart; she had to be smart to be an Auror at such a young age. She was funny and entertaining to talk to. Her clumsiness was endearing.

And yet...

And yet he was so wrong for her. He was old (thirteen years too old), and poor (who would ever hire him...), and dangerous (...the werewolf?). Nymphadora was so full of life; she deserved someone youthful who could live life to the fullest with her. Remus was not that man.

But she was hurting, he realized as she continued to stare with absolute concentration at the speaker. His refusal had hurt her. He might not see the rest of the Order much anymore (underground work for Dumbledore), but the few times he did see her, Nymphadora was not the colorful young woman she had once been. Her hair was a mousy grey, and her eyes were dull. Had he really done this to her?

Love and guilt, he thought once more. You chose the right course for both of you, and you still end up hurting her...

A long time ago (once upon a time, it seemed), Remus, Sirius, and Peter had dragged James out of his and Lily's flat to a small pub for his nineteenth birthday. They had gotten completely hammered, and stumbled back to the flat, laughing at the stupidest things that came from their mouths. Lily had rolled her eyes at them when she saw the state they were in, but thankfully hadn't tossed them out. Instead, the four of them spent the night in the tiny living room, sprawled on the couch or floor, tossing stories back and forth, telling tales of mischief, boasting about who received the worst detentions. One by one they fell asleep. Remus was the last to succumb to dreams, but before he did, he felt as though his heart was so full of something that it was going to burst.

That something, he realized now, as he gazed at his sleeping son, was love. Simply, purely, love.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edges of the crib. He knew what he must do, and yet the love that flowed through him had stuck his feet to the floor.

"Remus?"

His wife's quiet inquiry registered, but he did not turn his head to look at her. Remus couldn't bear to see the pain in her face with his next words.

"You have to stay here."

Silence.

"You have to stay here for Ted. He...he needs you."

"Remus, you need me. They need me. They need everyone they can get."

Remus shook his head, still staring at his son. The baby's chest fell ever so slightly, his hands clenched into fists. Slowly, he reached down and brushed a lock of bright blue hair.

He could stand it no longer. Taking three long strides, he closed the distance between him and Dora. She gazed up into his face, her calm expression betrayed only by the moisture threatening to spill from her eyes. As slowly as he had brushed his son's hair, Remus bent and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. When he drew away, Remus couldn't find the words to say.

Stay. Please. I love you. I'm Sorry.

As he spun where he stood, his wand clenched in his hand, Remus heard his heartbeat in his hears. Love. Guilt. Love. Guilt. A never ending cycle.

I'm sorry Mum. James, Sirius, Peter. Dora. Teddy. I couldn't help but love you, and I'm sorry for the pain it brought.

Maybe one day he could love without the guilt it brought.