Living with a disease has always been an affliction in my life. I've always suffered because of it. I've felt pity for myself, more often than necessary. It's never been a blessing, so to speak. I've never truly praised the fact that I was bitten by a werewolf. It's not something I'm proud of.
Since I was bitten, I always felt as if being a werewolf defined who I am. I'm not a human being to many; I'm a monster. That one day of the month is somehow amplified, blinding ordinary people from the fact that I am a person.
I never searched for love. I never even desired it. Yet, here I am, mourning over something that should have never come to be. Love, for me, goes hand in hand with death. Both are incredibly impacting, bringing grief and destruction. Yes, love is destructive. I would know. Trust me, I would know.
I've become bitter now. Love has hardened me. I'm cold, cruel, emotionless. My tears are frozen, unable to fall freely.
I never dated anyone while I went to Hogwarts. There was no need to. I was already in love with someone. I was in love with the most extraordinary girl in the entire world. Lily Evans.
Her mere presence was intoxicating. She was open. She wasn't ashamed. Yet, most of all, she was comforting. She was there for me during a time when I felt more alone than ever before. She didn't feel pity for me. She provided exactly the opposite. She gave me faith.
Every time I saw her enchanting eyes, those emerald prisms filled with beauty, I fell in love with her again. It was as if she literally cast a spell upon all those who came across her. Something about her smile, about her laugh, and about her soul was intriguing. She drew me in effortlessly.
Her words were kind, dripping in depth. She saw past my condition. She was the only person I told upon free will. Everyone else that knew merely discovered on their own. She was my choice. I trusted her. And rightly so.
I never would have dreamed of touching her. She was James'. She was the object of his affection for as long as I can remember. She was off-limits. All that she and I could share was friendship. Yet, there was more to our relationship than just friendship. We weren't platonic. And now, I am surrounded by shame. I am kept awake each and every night because of this. I betrayed my best friend. I betrayed him when he worked so hard to protect me.
I never had the nerve to share my feelings for Lily with James either. I was scared of his reaction. I was afraid to lose his friendship; it meant too much to me.
Lily and James. I loved them both. And now, they're dead. They're gone and I will never be able to share the truth with either one of them.
Lily, she knew. She was too perceptive not to know. I was more obvious than I should have been. I longed for her, eyeing her in such a way that would be inappropriate for a friend.
I had dreams about her lips. I imagined how soft they might be. They reminded me of two entwined rose petals, soft and precious. I longed to touch them, lay a finger upon them to see if they were truly as soft as I imagined.
I was unworthy of James' friendship and yet, he never knew. He never suspected even for a moment. I attended their wedding, hiding the anguish that had been slowly coursing throughout my entire body.
She was in love with him. He was her everything and vice versa. They were perfect. And every time I was around them, I felt like a third wheel.
I eventually did kiss her once. I did discover that her lips were not as soft as I had imagined; they were softer. And when I had leaned it to brush my own lips across hers, she had not pulled away. We were adults, we were mature, and she knew how I felt. She was considerate of my emotions.
That kiss took place only a week before she passed. It was as if she already knew she was going. She knew she was dying. To me, it was her goodbye kiss. She was letting go of an old friend.
And it hurts me to this day to know that she may have suspected me. She could have thought I'd betrayed them. No one knew any better. They never bothered to think of Peter. Their thoughts lingered on me and Sirius, me being the most likely of the two. The two most important people in the world to me didn't trust me.
And I never was able to explain myself to them. They were gone.
And Lily, the only girl I'd ever loved, was merely an echo. She's a lingering ghost of my past. I dream of her from time to time. I dream of those soft lips.
She was more than a lover. She was a gift. She helped me believe. She allowed me to see the light in what I thought to be darkness. She taught me that being a werewolf was only a problem if I made it so.
And what pains me most of all is that I was never able to thank her.
A/N: A small little ditty about Remus/Lily. It's sort of unorganized, but it was an emotional piece and the thoughts were meant to sort of be slurred together. Hope you enjoyed it.