The Werewolf and the Moon Maiden

This story is a response to a non-challenge that Kyle C. accidentally issued on a yahoo group.. Sorry Kyle, the idea was too good not to make a challenge. The prompt was: Make an improbable pairing work.

This chapter was red-moused by Jilliane. Thanks J for making my stuff readable!


1: A Crown of Thorns

Remus could not get used to this, the silence. After such a short time with Nym, and this long after her death on the battlefield that was Hogwarts, he shouldn't be feeling this loss still. Should he?

He should have sent her back to her mother's home that day...

His was not a life without loss. He thought he should be inured to it by now. He had lost his parents in his youth, his best friends were all dead, his wife's ashes scattered on the winds... he should be over it by now. There should be calluses on the organ that pumped blood through his body, the one that sent explosive tremors of agony with the accumulated losses he had experienced. Shouldn't there be?

She had loved his hands the most, had asked him to run them over her gravid belly. They eased her...

He stared a long while at his wrists, bony, layered with scars and golden-brown hair. They looked alien to him at the end of his grey and ragged sleeves. The backs of his hands were a map of his life, the blue veins an estuary that terminated in an ocean of agony and self-recrimination. Scars littered the back of them too, now. He'd had a few before the battle that took his light, but now they were layered with spell damage. They were much uglier than they ever were before.

The hiccoughing sough of his toddler son's cry as he awoke from his enforced nap-time, broke Remus from his despair, but only for a moment. Andromeda would be coming soon to retrieve her grandson. She had custody of little Teddy, now four. As with many things in Remus' life, he was denied the care of his son due to his illness. The Ministry had deemed him unfit, given his condition. The child's grandmother never let him forget that fact.

Andromeda blamed him as much for Nym's and Ted's death as she did for Remus' own survival...

He no longer referred to his lycanthropy as his 'furry little problem'. That phrase brought back the pain of losing Sirius all over again. He could not bear to think on it. He rose, feeling permanently hunched over in an old man's shuffling stoop. He carried his pain and his failure in his chest because the burden of it was too heavy to manfully shoulder. He wore his loss like a crown of thorns, and it was killing him.

He wore his burdens wherever he went. He had become grey and faded.

He was a ghost waiting to die...

The days and years dragged on and Lupin decided once and for all to leave England, to make his life elsewhere, where the stigma of his lycanthropy would not follow him. He would see his son sometimes twice, but more often once, a year. He travelled, using his pain as a hard shell to protect his shattered heart.

It was in the middle of his fifth decade that things changed.

&*&*&


Luna struggled daily to remain her unflappable self. She spoke in her airy voice to the boys, her and Rolf's sons, Lysander and Lorcan, telling them that she knew the pain of losing their father. Hers had been a life of many losses. Rolf had met her after being widowed. His first wife had been a Muggle and had succumbed to disease. Luna had been his protégé, a young unmarried woman with the ability to believe. He had been her professor, a man who fought despair daily, the loss of his wife weighting him down. They were suited for each other in some ways, unsuited in others. As with all persons married for a time, they had accepted their differences and built on their love.

It had never bothered Luna that he was forty years older than her. It had seemed immaterial that he was more grey than not, that he had lived through two reigns of terror, had seen more of life than Luna had. He was hers and she was his. That was all that mattered.

It had never occurred to her that he might one day die while on one of their field surveys, killed by one of the more dangerous creatures they studied. It had never occurred to her that she would have to see to living a life without him.

Death was not unknown to Luna, but being so deeply touched by the raw emotion of loss was.

Luna and the boys returned to England to settle her husband's affairs and to assume her new position as Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts. She had not been back to the school since her final year, had no desire to return, but she needed the money. Being famous in her field did not pay the bills, and the boys would start school there that year. She could not stand the loss of them, not now, not yet...


&*&*&

Remus approached the ancient stone structure. He had chosen to once again assume his role as Professor of Defence. Had anyone told him when he had left England that a cure for lycanthropy would eventually be found, he might have stayed. He would have been able to at least have a relationship with his son that did not consist of hurt silence and simmering resentment. He might have been able to assume his duties as a father, had he known.

The pain of his losses over the years had diminished, but never left completely; rather like a cancer thought to be in remission. It lurked behind his healthy, bland features, eating at him constantly, breaking Remus down cell by cell, until it would eventually consume him. Nym had been his first and only love. In a life seemingly designed for punishment, it was only fitting that he lost her.

He lifted his bleak gaze to the entryway and sighed on seeing the new Headmistress, Wynnfrith Wynngarde, at the top of the stairs leading into the school. She stood, arms akimbo, feet planted wide. The wolf's eye, still left after taking the regimen of curative potions, understood the body language. The human in Remus straightened his shoulders, pulling his body from its long-defeated posture.

As Remus drew near he could see the Headmistress' face firm into disapproving lines. She said, "Mr. Lupin, you're late."

Remus would have once back-pedalled, would have exposed his soft belly and neck for the woman to see his submission. Now, he simply returned her stare, eye to eye as one wholly a man would do. He had not been entirely human long and he had lost so much of that state to his illness that he dare not give away any of his remaining hard-won, purely human hubris.

The woman gestured impatiently for him to precede her into the building, and Remus stepped over the lintel and into his past.

Hogwarts had not changed appreciably. There was no sign that a battle had ever been conducted there, no inkling left that Remus had lost his one reason for living. Where he knew walls had been destroyed, he noted that the repairs had been aged artificially. There was no need for the newest generation of students to see the effects of the battle, even if the veterans of that war lived the misery of the aftermath every day.

"This way, Mr. Lupin." The older woman motioned him ahead of her and with a curt nod, and he followed her direction. "You missed the welcoming breakfast. Join us in the staff room once you stow your gear. You remember where it is from your last time as professor?"

Lupin nodded and headed for Gryffindor Tower. He was to be Head of House for the coming year. That was how depleted Gryffindor remained even twenty years after the war.

He entered his rooms, a small suite consisting of an office study, a bedroom, a bath, and a living area. It was institutional in is blandness. He looked to the windows that used to be swathed in tartan when he was here before as a student and later as a professor. The windows were bare. He would be obliged to spend some of his own meagre funds to purchase window dressings. He could not bear the cheerful expanse of sky that lay beyond the glass during the day. He would not want to see the progress of the moon at night.

He retreated to the bedroom and stared blankly at the bed. It was a double. His heart gave a queer lurch at the thought of all that bed just for him. He would ask the house elves to remove it and give him something for one person. After making that decision, he pulled his one trunk out of his robe pocket, and cast Finite. With a flick of his wand, he made short work of placing his clothes in the wardrobe. They were new. He had received a small stipend whilst being treated for his lycanthropy , even though most of his physical needs were met whilst in hospital. It was part and parcel of the new Ministry's outlook on those unfortunates afflicted with his particular curse. Of course now that there was a cure, he was once again a wizard with full rights.

He looked at his watch, the only remaining item he had that meant anything to him. He had inherited it from his father and had hoped to gift it to his son when he came of age. He needn't have bothered saving it. Harry had given Teddy, Remus' son, a watch. Remus had never mentioned it to Harry, but the action had hurt him.

He had wasted enough time. The Headmistress would not be pleased if he dawdled further. He left the room, unaware of two non-corporeal figures in the rafters, watching his progress across the hall.

&*&*&


Luna had never been one to feel out of place in a gathering. She mostly watched those around her, content to observe people as from a distance. It had been easier that way when she was younger, and a habit she had never lost as an adult.

She watched from her seat in the corner as the assembled staff entered the room. There was Trelawney, still shrouded in her misty visions and flowing scarves. She seemed to have not so much aged as shrank. Her insectile appearance was only enhanced by her celery stalk thinness. There was Fillius Flitwick smiling at her, still small, still lively, and not greatly changed. Luna had always suspected he was more than half goblin. That race lived for millennia. Blaise Zabini, still as handsome as he was when in school, took a seat next to the smart-looking woman who taught Muggle Studies and Arithmancy. Luna watched Zabini's face as he watched the woman, taking note of the smouldering intensity of his attention and the apparent lack of emotion in hers. There was a story there between the two professors, even if Luna didn't care to find out what it was. Both Poppy Pomfrey and Pomona Sprout gave a little wave in Luna's direction before they took their seats which seemed to groan under the more than a few stone each woman had put on over the years. The Headmistress entered after most of the staff assembled, her austere grey robes and scraped back hair were in stark contrast to the woman's florid rouge and acid red lips. Luna could not tell what to make of her. She lacked the finesse of Dumbledore, and the menacing presence of Snape. There was an air of angry dissatisfaction about the woman, and Luna made a note to stay clear of the Headmistress when she could.

Professor Wynngarde assumed her position behind the podium, glaring at the door for a few moments before she shuffled through her papers and began speaking to the staff. Luna's attention drifted; she didn't really care to hear what she had already read in the packet owled to her when she was hired. She fixed her gaze on the fire behind the Headmistress and wondered if the boys were settling in at the Potter's home. She would pick them up after this interminable session was over.

Her reverie was broken when the door opened. She resisted the temptation to let her head whip towards the distraction as all the other Professors had done. It seemed ruder to gawk at the hapless Defence Professor. They had all been made aware that he was late arriving from London, had missed his connection with the Hogwarts Express and would be travelling overnight by hired car due to a recent illness that had affected his ability to travel by magical means. Luna had wondered who it would be and what the person's illness was. She had heard it discussed by the older staff members in saddened tones just outside of her hearing just that morning.

She was relieved of her curiosity as the man sat next to her in the only seat that was left. Luna cast her gaze at his hands. They were well put together, with shapely though blunt fingers. They were sparsely haired with a smattering of golden brown on the backs of them. He had seen battle. She could tell from the scars that littered them and the wrists she could see before his shirt started. He was not averse to labour too, if she could tell by the calluses on the underside of his thumb. Luna wondered if one could read character in such hands. If it were possible, she was sure the man who possessed them was kind from the workmanlike shape of the fingers and the neat half moon nails. She didn't know why she thought so, just that she did. Her gaze strayed to his conservative robes. The seams were visibly sewn rather than magically joined, showing that the garments were not tailored as were most, but bought off the rack, probably at the newest shop on Diagon Alley, which had replaced Madam Malkin's after she retired. The man shifted, a flash of worn Cordovan leather peeping out from under the hem of his brown robes. They were old and probably comfortable. They were shoes that had been places, and Luna felt a kinship with the man. He leaned forward, placing his steel grey, shaggy-haired head in her line of site. Her breath caught as she realised who he was.

He looked at her and smiled hesitantly before turning away from her. Luna sensed his discomfort and was sorry to have made him feel it. Remus Lupin had been her first crush. She had worshipped him from afar as a child, had wept over his losses as an adult. She pushed her leg forward, knocking his foot with hers. When he attempted to wordlessly apologise, she smiled her own.

It was her first real expression of joy since Rolf had died.


&*&*&


The ghost had waited for this moment since he had found that existence as a spirit was rather dull. In life he had been a man of action, a decider of fates, a master of deception. In this existence he merely existed. He wanted more. The angel beside him sighed at the site of her former husband, obviously not quite feeling the depth of emotion that the wan werewolf had evoked in her in life. A side-effect of ascension, he supposed. Tonks turned toward him and murmured, "He looks so sad."

"Mmm...," the ghost answered. "He was never the picture of joy. Always hesitant, always pitiable. From what I see of him, he hasn't changed one whit, that is, with the exception of his lack of a more lupine nature."

"Zabini's potion was that effective?" Tonks asked, "He's really cured?"

"I was the true author of his research, don't forget," the former Potions Master of Hogwarts scowled as he turned his scathing attention back to Tonks. "Would you expect less from me?"

"It was Zabini that brewed it," Tonks frowned. "It was him that got the recognition for it, you git. You just led him in the right direction."

Snape's scowl deepened. Why had he thought a life in service to the living would garner him more any more recognition now that he was dead? If Lily hadn't still been with the toerag in the afterlife, he would have remained on that plane. He had not realised how tiresome a disembodied existence was, nor did he reckon on the boredom of years spent as a non-corporeal being. He had petitioned for reintegration into the astral plane and had been given the still clumsy, newly minted angel, Tonks, as a partner along with a nearly impossible mission. Finding a means to turn Lupin from his long-term suicide was Severus' one chance at attaining the state of grace needed to enter the other world. He could not cock this up. There would be no other chance for him, not for another four hundred tedious years.

"Well, we'll tend to my charge first," Tonks said as she flicked her wings away from the wall and spread her legs out before her. "I don't know what that Scamander woman needs, but what ever it is, I have to provide it or I won't make angel second-class soon at all..."

"So, this is about your promotion and not my own, hmm?" Snape said as he slipped between the rocks in the wall. Only his head remained in the room. He knew it was quite disconcerting. He looked like a greasy hunting trophy. "I suppose I will have to wait to ascend until you have your charge's petty problems out of the way before I can work on mine and take my place in the afterlife. Typical."

"It's the only way to assure your cooperation, Snape, and you know it," Tonks answered evenly. "Your task isn't just to help an old enemy. It's to.....m-mmph!"

Tonks eyes widened as she realised how close she had come to tipping the scales in Snape's favour. It wasn't supposed to be easy for an earthbound spirit to cross over. There were lessons to learn and reincarnation documents to go over in triplicate, not that he was supposed to know about that little aspect of the afterlife. She thought if he knew, he might just explode. Life had never been particularly fun for the old bat. It would have cost her the hard-earned wings on her back if she had said more about any of it. Fortunately the silencing constraint she had put on herself stopped her from speaking.

"It's to what?" Snape slid out of the wall, an oily silver cloud.

Tonks pantomimed a key being locked and then thrown away. She would not be able to speak until the constraint wore off.

Snape rolled his eyes and announced, "I'm going to spy on the former werewolf and then find some rotting food to experience. Do what you need to do, but don't expect my help."


&*&*&


As the term wore on and late summer turned to autumn, Lupin spent most of his time in his office or his chambers. He ate in the Great Hall during the week only because it was required, otherwise he retreated to his rooms with a sandwich and a glass of whatever was available. He only went on Hogsmeade weekends when it was his turn to chaperon. He avoided all contact with living beings. The only person he could not avoid was Severus Snape's ghost. He hadn't figured Snape to be one to have unfinished business, or to have especially loved living. If Lupin were to guess about why Snape chose to stay on at Hogwarts, he would have to have said it was to make the remainder of Lupin's life hell. Not that Remus didn't deserve it for what he had allowed his friends to do the poor bastard when they all went to school.

"Come now, Lupin, I know you're no great shakes in the looks department, but really, why have you taken to wearing those greying rags again?" Snape's ghost "leaned" against the door frame of Remus' bedroom, looking out over the piles of books scattered in the parlour.

As much as Remus wanted to ignore him, he knew that Snape, in life as well as in death, was as tenacious as terrier. Lupin leaned back from his stooped position on the floor and considered himself for a moment. He finally said, as evenly as he could, "I am reorganising my books, Severus, what would you have me wear, dress robes?"

"I suppose a tutu would be out of the question," Snape drawled and buffed his non-existent nails on his translucent robes. Lupin watched them flicker, catching the silver wisps of light from the lamps. "It's the weekend, for heaven's sake. Don't tell me there isn't at least one thing you'd like to do besides play some form of canine Cinderella." Snape affected a sneeze and then waved his hands before his face. "Dust still affects me, you know."

Remus merely turned back to his books. He was in the E's in the Magical Creatures section. He should be able to finish organising the subject by that evening. He did his best to ignore Snape as the ghost made huffing noises and hummed atonally. A dead Snape was apparently a bored Snape.

Lupin was relieved when the ghost gave up his vigil and floated to the next room, or wherever Snape went when he wasn't bothering Lupin. Remus almost felt sorry to see him leave and turned back to his books to stifle the emotion.

Remus did not feel lonely.

He didn't.


&*&*&


Tonks had no way to speak to her charge, so she watched the former Mrs. Scamander with a growing sense of awe at the woman's patience. She was currently teaching Hagrid cleaning charms, a thing he was allowed to do since his ancient conviction had been overturned in the Chamber deaths of the last century. Hagrid, now in his late nineties, had retired from teaching to once again be the keeper of the keys. The half-giant had so far melted several serviceable pots and blasted a hole in the wall. Luna merely smiled at each mishap as she righted the spell damage and directed him once more in the proper wand movements.

Tonks lounged on Hagrid's bed, careful not to catch her wings on the iron of the headboard. It hurt to lose feathers that way. She gave a great, gusty sigh, moving the air in the room as she did. She had not yet become used to the power she had to control her environment. Angels got all the perks in the spirit world, but none of the recognition.

Hagrid incanted the spell again, and this time the thin blue light did as it was supposed to, cleansing the old wooden trencher, rather than burning it. Luna patted his hand and with a vague expression of joy said, "Very good. You should practice that several more times."

Hagrid beamed as Luna rose, sylphlike and graceful. Tonks envied her that trait. The Eternal ones knew it was still beyond the ex-Auror to move without knocking things over. Being on the astral plane helped, but not much.

"I'll just be going, Hagrid." Luna gave that vague smile of hers and said, "I'll see you in the Hog's Head later. I'm to meet the Abyssinian Fire-belching bullfrog dealer. We're covering them before the holidays. They are distantly related to dragons, you know."

"Aye," the half-giant rumbled absently as he scooted a new trencher before him and aimed his wand. "You should get out fer yersel' too. You're a fine young girl, you need some fun."

Tonks saw a shadow of sorrow hollow out the woman's cheeks and settle in her eyes. "Thank you, Hagrid," she said, “I will. Now I must be off. I'll send the boys down sometime this week to fetch some of your rock cakes. They do so love them dunked in their tea."

With an airy wave she left the room. Tonks followed her, but not before she heard Hagrid sigh and say with a suspiciously innocent look on his face, "The poor wee thing. If only Perfessor Lupin would come out. They're perfectly suited..."

The half-giant drummed his fingers on the table, the noise filling the room, his brows raised and his eyes widened in a picture of innocence. It was only later that Tonks thought that the last comment may have been directed at her.


&*&*&


"Snape!" Tonks shouted, forgetting for a moment that her voice might carry in an unexpected way. The door to the potions lab shook slightly before banging loudly against the wall

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Snape said from the closet. He emerged with his hands over his ears. "Must you always attempt to deafen me?"

Tonks fairly bounced as she flicked her wings, the resultant rush of air blowing some parchments off the desk at the head of the room. Snape glared at her and then made to pick them up before he realised his own limitations. He stood once again, scowling blackly at her. "Well? Why did you come in here bellowing my name and making a mess?"

"I know what we need to do... to solve both of our cases..." Tonks flapped her hands in joy, as she projected the images she needed to convey to the dingy, grey figure before her. The motion of her hands drew a look of extreme disgust from Snape.

After a few moments of charged silence, he ground out, "What?"

"Oh, yeah, forgot you aren't an angel."

"Heaven forbid," Snape said acidly, rolling his eyes. The whites flickered in the light as he did so.

"You don't say," Tonks returned tartly.

Snape merely drew his lips into an affected moue of disgust as she gathered the words to her and outlined her plan to Snape. Once finished, she saw a look of unholy joy cross his face before he laughed outright. He bent over with the effort it took to contain his mirth. Finally, he wiped nonexistent tears from his pale cheeks and said, "That's too rich. I never would have thought helping Lupin would be so satisfying. The Lovegood girl, you say? Who would have thought?"

Tonks narrowed her eyes, feeling the rush of angelic wrath worm its way up her spine and into her fingers. She had grown rather fond of the ethereal Luna. "You don't have to be such a git about it," she snipped. "And anyway, it's the perfect solution to keeping Remus from a death before his time, and Luna from a life of solitude."

"I never said it wasn't a grand idea," Snape said, straightening his robes and pulling his face into a less mirthful configuration. "I just didn't expect the outcome would be so satisfying. They'll drive each other mad, you know."

"That's their problem," Tonks said smoothly. "Ours is to get them together and get the hell out of here."

"Truer words were never said, my dear," Snape answered. "Though I do hope my destination isn't as hot as you suggest."


&*&*&


Luna watched the students forlornly as she made her way to the village. She had never been one to sit about idly, to waste her monies on trinkets, yet here she was, two hours before her meeting, wasting her time watching people pass. It was times like this that she missed her husband most. He had forever had witty things to say about people. Never mean-spirited, he would simply invent fantastical tasks for them to be on their way to. She missed his whimsy the most.

A flicker of white flashed in her peripheral vision. It had occurred with increasing regularity since she had come to Hogwarts. If she concentrated, sometimes she thought she saw wings, but could never be sure. One day she would investigate. She thought perhaps the being was a Quick-footed Frobisher, but wouldn't be sure until she could speak to it. They were quite intelligent, if a little single-minded.

She nodded to a girl, a third year, who was running to catch up to her friends. Luna could never remember hurrying for anything. Not even in the Department of Mysteries, when the battle was pitched and treacherous. She had remained calm in the face of such aggression. It was what saved her. She had never been like the others; she had always chosen solitude and had been content with that state. So why now did she feel such ennui at the thought of the barren years ahead of her?


&*&*&


Lupin felt a frisson of chill as he placed the last book in the section. He pulled his tatty robes about his shoulders and looked for a draft. From his periphery he saw a flicker of white. He turned around sharply to see what it might be, but only made himself feel foolish for a sudden sense of impending joy when there was nothing there. If he didn't watch himself, he might end up as Divination instructor, rather than Defence.

What would he ever have again in his life to be joyful about?

The wind stirred again, and he suddenly felt compelled to be outside, to be with people, but not just any person. He waited for the image of the person he was supposed to want to see, but came up blank. He pushed a stack of books with the toe of his worn Cordovan shoes. He should get back to work, but...

He felt compelled to taste freedom, to feel the presence of that as yet unidentified person.

A trip to Hogsmeade would involve a change of robes and possibly a shower with all its incumbent duties. He didn't want the person in question to come away with a bad impression of him.

If he could only fathom who that person was...

A half hour later, he found himself at the entrance of Hogwarts, showered, shaved, and moderately less depressed. He smoothed his robes before stepping across the lintel.

Once out the door, he thought he heard Snape's ghost say, "It's about bloody time, Lupin."

He had been content to live as if dead for years, so why now did he feel the need to join the living again?


AN: Thanks for reading. Please take the time to leave a review.