December, 1995
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I write to record events. I write to gain perspective on my feelings. Tonight, I find myself doing both while writing to pass the time.
Sirius is holed up with Buckbeak, drinking and brooding. Over the last few days, Cami has been working longer hours to run the agency while Morty and Lisa are on their honeymoon. He misses her so terribly that I cannot reproach him. While a chess match or a run in the park with a friend are welcome distractions, they are no cure for the loneliness a man feels without his lover.
My partner is probably calling out farewells to her workmates and striding toward the double doors of Auror headquarters as I write. In her cloak pocket will be tucked an office memo that amused or offended, or the latest office cartoon. When she arrives at Grimmauld, she will bound up the stairs and show it to me to get my reaction, after giving me 'a proper hello.'
I look forward to that 'hello' all day. It is impossible to describe fully how it makes me feel to see Nymphadora's face light up when she sees me. The sparkle in her eyes and the radiance of her smile lift my spirit. They act as a balm on days when doubts and fears creep in like malignant shadows, casting a pall on my hopes for the future. I can't help but wonder if my expression when I see her is what prompts Nymphadora to change her kiss 'hello' as often as she changes the colour of her hair.
Sometimes our kiss is brief and sweet. Other times, her lips cling tenderly. Tonight, I hope her kiss is long and deep, distracting me from worrying thoughts.
I am worried about the meeting tonight. My friend David sent a note this morning, giving the time and place. He added that the werewolf who passed the information to him seemed tense and excited. I feel the tension also, with a glaring difference. Mine is a product of dread, not excitement.
Average as I am in appearance—despite Nymphadora's loving claim otherwise—I blend into the background at meetings. By not drawing attention to myself, I become privy to the whispered conversations of those who disregard my presence. What I have heard is alarming. The werewolves who assemble in small numbers to air their grievances against the Ministry are mostly comprised of men and women attacked in adulthood. While they are sought-after allies, Voldemort's supporters do not recruit them as diligently as another group: those who have been werewolves since childhood.
Denied education and expected to subsist on the fringes of the Wizarding world, rumours abound that the scattered 'packs' are hungry for a better life. Fenrir Greyback offers power. The Ministry promises only a meagre dole.
In dark moments I wonder what my life would have been like if Dumbledore had denied my parents' request. How would I have viewed the system that ensures wizards have everything while other magical creatures stay 'in their place?'
After tonight's meeting, I fear I will no longer be able to hold off reporting my findings. If I hear that rumour has become fact, I will leave for Scotland immediately, because if anyone can find a way to counter Greyback's influence, it is Albus Dumbledore.
I only wish I could pretend that his plan will not include me.
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A/N: I hope by the end of 'Moonlight' and this 'Journal', readers will be ready for Remus' pov to join Tonks' in the next story, and eager to go 'underground' with him. The readers whose reviews I was eager to read last chapter were...♥ 40/16 ♥ adrienne06052 ♥ alix33 ♥ Antifishestablishmentarianism ♥ bored2pieces2 ♥ Calenmarwen ♥ ElspethBates ♥ Embellished ♥ excessivelyperky ♥ FNP ♥ Freja Lercke-Falkenborg ♥ Io. sono. Emilia ♥ ishandtwofourths ♥ Kates Master ♥ ladyofthebookworms ♥ LolaCherryColaGirl ♥ MollyCoddles ♥ Moontime ♥ n1264 ♥ Nethiel Nessime ♥ Operamuse ♥ Psych3 ♥ RahNee ♥ rairaichan ♥ remus r us ♥ siriuslycoco ♥ Slipknot-3113 ♥ Sophia Loren ♥ sunny9847 ♥ and ♥ UnderworldBabe ♥
♥Added note: This 'entry' corresponds with chapter 25 of Moonlight and Shadow.