CW: Sexual content

Note: This is skipping ahead in their relational timeline to after Remus first broke up with Dora to go off to the Werewolf camps.

"Oh Dora…. Oh Dora… oh Dora, Dora, DORA oh oh oh ooooooooooooh!"

Remus' eyes suddenly flew open in bed. Oh dear god what had he just done? His mouth had snapped shut in embarrassment, one of his his hands covered his mouth in a flash and he silently hoped no one in the neighboring rooms of the inn had heard him. His other hand had been busy between his legs. His eyes drifted backwards under his eyelids and his facial muscles grew tight as he experienced the end of the climax. He tightened his lips to suppress an exhaled moan as the tension release of the orgasm exploded across his body. Air burst through his nostrils and a tiny whimper escaped his lips. He inhaled sharp gasps of air through his nose and he felt his heart thumping rapidly against his ribcage.

He was drenched in sweat and he briefly shuddered. Goosebumps fluttered across the surface of the scarred skin on both his arms and legs. His hand was now wet from ejaculation. He was still clasping himself between his legs but now grew soft. Slowly the realization sunk in that it was only his own hand grasping there and sadly not hers. God how how he desperately wished his hands were both wrapped around her naked body instead; caressing the smooth, warm skin on her back and her soft sweet head was tucked under his chin. But it was only him. She was gone. It was over.

He laid there just silently staring and blinking at the old wooden planks in the ceiling. He listened to the sound of his solitary breaths slowing down. The dull, familiar ache of loneliness set in. There were very little other sounds in the room besides his own lingering heavy breaths; in and out, in and out.

The inn was very quiet as it was still only the wee early morning hours of the day. The rain had stopped. Occasionally he heard a few drips of water falling from the roof gutters outside and inside the faucet of the bathtub; drip drop, drip drop.

He had used his last few galleons to sleep in a real bed off the ground and get a much needed bath between visits to werewolf camps. Merlin, he had gotten so disgusting and dirty. It was an enormous relief to bathe in warm soapy water the previous night and cleanse himself of the layers of filth. He nearly fell asleep in the tub.

There she was in his dreams again. She was impossible to forget. He had dreamt of her over and over ravishing him and taking him down hard. Perhaps it was the only thing good about this miserable mission for the order; her showing up in his sleep at night. The irony was not lost on him that in his attempt to distance himself from her through embarking on this mission, she felt even closer appearing in his dreams each night.

He had managed to visit multiple werewolf camps in attempt to win loyalties to Dumbledore and not Lord Voldemort. However, he questioned whether or not his attempts were even successful as most encampments were suspicious or dismissive entirely. The worst thing was waking up and experiencing the realization she was not there laying next to him. He had worked so desperately hard to push her out of his thoughts and focus on the mission at hand. She wasn't there with him on this mission.

Yet somehow even though she wasn't physically there… she was still always there with him, no matter how hard he tried to push her away out of his mind. Oh how he had tried to forget her. Merlin knows he had tried. She deserved so much better. She couldn't be there with him...but yet, she was there.

There she was in his dreams at night; drawing him in like an unstoppable magnetic force, calling his name like an ancient siren, and firmly grabbing at the sharp jaw lines on both sides of his face. In the dream he would gasp for air and eagerly press into her lips while feeling her delicate tongue blade pushing back into him in even deeper still. Her absence had only filled him with an insatiable, unforgettable longing to be with her again.

The truth was he was always longing for her. It never stopped. There was a perpetual burning ache inside him for her presence. Oh how he longed to see her sparkling chocolate brown eyes fixed fiercely upon him and her mouth formed into that irresistible, mischievous grin. Her authentic, unchanged face had always been his favorite above all the other morphed faces she made with her metamorphmagus abilities.

Oh how he longed to feel the thrill and comfort of her soft touch again; her fingers moving ever so gently like a dance across the surface of his despicable scarred skin. No matter how hard he tried to push thoughts of her away, they still came flooding back to him when he was asleep.

"Dora," his lips whispered even though he was fully aware she was not present in the room. He stilled just loved to say and hear the sound of her name float back into his ears.

"Oh my sweet Dora… where are you now?"

His heart clenched in sadness and sank heavily in the silence of no response. He desperately hoped she was safe and well. It was over between them, though. Why was he even foolishly calling her 'MY sweet Dora' when he was the one who had ended it?

He had brought this miserable loneliness upon on himself. It was all on him. He brought it upon both of them. It had broken her heart when he ended it before he left. It broke both of their hearts. There was no turning back. It was the only thing he could do to protect her. He had to do what he had to do. It was for the greater good for Muggles, for witches and wizard kind everywhere. It was for her greater good. She deserved so much better. He had explained his rationale countless times despite how she argued back.

He was too old. He was too poor. He was too dangerous.

She deserved someone younger. She deserved someone richer. She deserved someone safe.

She deserved so much better. There were countless other possibilities. Not him. Definitely not him. He was just an aged, impoverished, galleon-less, terrible cursed werewolf. He could not, should not and would not be the one to hold her back from a bright future ahead. He had already decided and accepted the fact a long time ago that finding any other life partner or marriage just wasn't in the tea leaves for his life. She could only be in his dreams, that was all...not in real life. He couldn't bring that danger upon any other soul in a romantic relationship in good conscience. It was his curse to bear alone and not something he ever wished to weigh down others.

Remus turned over on his side. The comfort of being in an actual bed made him realize how he was still quite exhausted from the countless nights of fruitless sleep attempts on the hard, cold ground outside. It was always shifting from the lesser painful bruise to another. But tonight instead of the painful pressure that had pushed into the bones of his hips there was the pleasant, squishy, soft foam of the mattress. He quickly became drowsy, his eyelids blinked slowly and he comforted himself quietly with the words, "Only in my dreams...only in my dreams, sweet Dora."

He would have fallen back asleep if it weren't for the light knock on the door. At first, his mind played a momentary trick on him in his drowsy state imagining it was Dora who had tracked him down there. I'm here, my love, I was a fool to think I could ever hide from you he thought silently with his mouth crooked into a half smile.

The light knocking continued in small bursts. As soon as his mind registered the knock as someone else, it was as if he had been tapped by another wizard's wand and received a hot bolt of electricity. He frantically scrambled to grab the sheets and blankets on the bed in order to cover up all his horrid scarring all over. No one needed to see the wrangled mess of his body uncovered.

"Sir?" said an older gentleman's voice at the door.

"Sir? Are you all right?"

"Are you all right, sorry to disturb, I, I heard a distressed voice and thought I better check or...?"

Remus stopped breathing and was frozen in embarrassment rendered speechless. He wished he could respond but momentarily could not. His voice failed him. His mind raced wondering what the man had heard. Then he heard a few tinny, metallic sounding taps on the knob and the unlocking spell whispered.

"Alohomora."

The inn keeper peeked hesitantly around the edge of the door. He was bald with tufts of bushy gray above his ears. He squinted looking curiously across the room. Remus squeezed the blanket tight against his chin to conceal himself suddenly wishing he had James's invisibility cloak instead.

Where had that ended up?

Hopefully not locked in Filch's desk or in his wretched cat's bed either.

Oh wait, he knew the answer to this question. Perhaps he had forgotten as if his mind was back in the time line of their glory days as the Marauders.

He knew where it was - Harry had it. Of course Harry had it. He himself had made sure to sneak it back to Harry from Severus in the Shrieking Shack. James would of been thankful he got it back to his son despite the near disaster of his accidental and unforgettable transformation that night.

"Everything all right, sir?"

Finally Remus's vocal folds were no longer paralyzed in embarrassment. He cleared his throat and managed to answer,

"I'm fine. Fine. Thank you."

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir, put a brew on perhaps?" he asked.

"No!" Remus replied a little to loudly. "Sorry. No thank you. There's no need. Kind of you to offer, though."

The inn keeper nodded and replied, "Aw, very well sir, very well. I'll leave you be now."

He seemed to sense the awkwardness and hurriedly closed the door. Remus listened to his footsteps shuffling away and then creaking down the wooden steps to the first story.

He let out a large exhale of relief. He decided he'd might as well get dressed to leave since the shot of adrenaline would now make it impossible to fall back asleep. It felt like he could almost feel Dora snickering at him even though in reality she was far away.