Oh, god, here comes my attempt at writing with masculinity…seriously, I never write from a guy's POV. But this song was just so perfect for some LupinXTonks! And I can't be satisfied by simply writing comedy, so until I think of an OC who is compatible with Sirius Black yet is not a Mary Sue, this will have to tide me over, I suppose. Song is Pitter-Pat by Erin McCarley. Thanks for reading.

The newspaper in his hands trembled. Rows of orderly black letters became blurry and unreadable. He threw it down on the stained wooden coffee table and listened to the curt slapping noise it made. It was gut-wrenching, the truth was. But impossible to hide from.

He leaned back in the worn leather recliner, and his head sunk into his two unsteady hands. He was young- merely in his mid-thirties, but he looked much older due to the dark circles under his eyes and streaks of opaque gray weaved through his hair. Stress had beaten down upon his being ever since youth. It was like a weight hung suspended in the air over his head, forever threatening to crush him. And presently, the rope that held it was wearing thin. He was almost ready to give up.

"Muggle Family of Four Killed by Werewolf" read the dreaded slab of paper. He couldn't bear to look at it. Though those crimes did not stain his own conscience or haunt his own past, they might as well have. There was no difference, you see. One werewolf's actions could be any, and every, werewolf's actions. Monsters were what they were: killing and scratching, slashing people and families apart. Untouchable, unfeeling beasts with no conscience- just a thirst for human blood, and insensitivity for those whose lives they took. That's what that word meant. Anyone, no, anything unfortunate enough to be branded with that label was identical to the next. This was just one of the vast collections of trials that proved that what he was was anything but human.

So how could she love such a creature as him?

Tugged the moon into the ground
Turn this bedroom upside-down tonight.
I took my faith and I breathed it out
Walked right through a cloud of flashing lights,
Bright lies.

He tried to tell her she was being foolish. He refused to give in to her unruly defiance and sweet smile. But sometimes he just couldn't. He put too much faith in fairy tales, blinded into thinking that love would save his emptiness, that everything would work out, just because he wanted it to. It couldn't have been further from the truth. They were separated by a glass wall: they could see each other, hear each other, want each other, but their hands were obstructed from reaching out to one another. She would tell him none of this mattered; she was oblivious to the reality of his monstrous condition. And the worst part? Some little part of him believed her. Some little part of him made him come back for her, time and time again. All which would make her more heartbroken when the time came that he finally said no.

Pain takes my heart's place.
The love we made, we can't erase it.
Don't want to face it.

She was his lifeline. She made him keep going, even when he felt that he simply couldn't. But he would never admit it; not even to himself. He convinced himself that he would never be able to live the fantasy of them together until the warm pulsing sensation reserved for her in his heart was filled with sorrow, deep and sad and regretful. Or did a wretched thing like him have a heart? He certainly did. And any feelings for her in it were beyond the point of being smothered. His willpower evaporated a bit more each time he looked into her sparkling brown eyes- filled with the hopes and dreams of youth, they were. The same look he had had and lost long ago. He couldn't face the fact that he couldn't stay away- yet he couldn't embrace his feelings that were blooming up inside him, threatening to explode any day now. He kept avoiding them and ignored that fact that one day, he wouldn't be able to run anymore.

Pitter-pat, the angel on my shoulder

Is haunting me tonight.
Tick-tock, the clock is getting louder,

Ready for me to decide.

He was torn between what was right for him and what was right for her. His good judgment taunted him every day, whispering his sins into his ear. It tortured him. All he wanted to do was prove that he could be as civilized and human as a werewolf could. But the past and present made it clear that he was treading the wrong path: he had lost his job at Hogwarts, proving he couldn't keep a steady job or control himself among helpless children. And now destiny teased him, presenting him with a wonderful, kind, beautiful woman like her, and again, he showed how weak he was. Only a monster would put someone they loved in this kind of danger. Unconcluded feelings rang through his head night and day, pressuring him to make up his mind.

I've lost my sense of right and wrong,
When justified, my soul to carry on.
I feel so damn good to write off the rules
but when a new day breaks, I'm left a fool.
I'm such a fool.

He was the kind of man who was willing to withdraw himself. He was only partially human; why should he fully indulge himself in human events, activities, friendships? But all that sense of quiet content with the minimal dissolved when he had met her. Was it a good thing, proving he, too, could feel? Or was he simply exposing her to his darker, more violent side he could hardly restrain at times? When they were together, he forgot about his "condition". Everything felt...right. Happy, even. She made his sore heart fill with all the feelings his life had neglected. But once she had left, when he was alone with his conscience, his selfish actions came crashing down on him.

Pain takes my heart's place,
Your sweet, sweet love,
I can taste it,
But still can't face it.

And then there was her. She with her spunky bubble gum hair, her eyes sparkling with adventure, her heart bursting with compassion for every living being she met. She seemed so perfect to him; why weren't there other better, younger men falling all over her? No, she just kept coming back to him, grinning up at him, melting away his heart…he could feel her radiance awakening the happiness that had hibernated inside him for all these years, could feel her touch, warming him. But it was just too dangerous. He couldn't do that to her, to himself. He needed her love. Yet it had to stop, for the good of both of them.

Pitter-pat, the angel on my shoulder

Is haunting me tonight.
Tick-tock, the clock is getting louder,

Ready for me to decide.
The angel on my shoulder

Is haunting me tonight.
Tick-tock, the clock is getting louder,

Ready for me to decide.

The sun is coming down on me;
Could fate be so unkind?

Every day, he grew older. Every day, this became worse and worse for them both. Why did the stars have to cross just so that they had to meet? Why did they have to fall in love? This would have been much easier if they would have simply never met. Hell, his whole live would have been so much better if he hadn't become a werewolf in the first place! This wasn't fair. None of it was. But long ago, he had learned that moping and cursing at fate would do not good. He was still a werewolf, he would always be one; nothing could change that. And nothing could change the way they felt for each other, either.

Pain takes my heart's place.
The love we made remains.

He sighed and stood from the battered old armchair. It was getting late; who knew what the Wizarding World had in store for all of them tomorrow, with the government growing more dangerous every moment. He should be getting to bed.

Another evening of pondering. Another evening of wanting, wishing. Another evening passed by, his own fate still undecided.

Would this hell never end?

Pitter-pat, the angel on my shoulder

Is haunting me tonight.
Tick-tock, the clock is getting louder,

Ready for me to decide.
The angel on my shoulder is haunting me tonight.
Tick-tock, the clock is getting louder, ready for me to decide.

Oh, oh. Oh oh, oh-oh oh oh oh-oh.

Angel, oh, oh.

Angel, oh, oh.