Chapter 1: The Girl Next Door

Moony's Story

Disclaimer: I'm only going to do this once, because I got sick of doing it last time. I do not own anything. Except for what's mine, of course.

Ah, it feels good to be back. My last fanfic was a blast, and I hope this one is as much fun. For any of you who have read my last fic, welcome back and please proceed. For any of you who haven't, proceed anyway cause not much happens in this Chapter, it's just an introduction. But you might want to check out Padfoot's Story: The Dog and the Owl (written by me) for future Chapters if you want to know what I'm talking about.

This story will alternate between Remus and Mara's point of view. I can't guarantee that every Chapter they will switch, because some scenes I really want to do from a certain person's POV. But we'll see what happens.

And now, without further ado, I would like to present...the first Chapter!

...........................................................

Mara Wilson was the girl next door.

She was many things, but first and foremost that's what she was. I knew her practically since I was in diapers. If you can imagine me in diapers, that is. Her mother and my mother were attached at the hip, so for about the first six years of both of our lives we were too.

Mara was also my friend. The kind where when you desperately need to talk to someone and you can't decide who would understand, you lean out your bedroom window and holler her name. Then she would come to her window, which conveniently faced mine, and just listen. Normally she wouldn't even say anything back, just nod or shrug or shake her head. But I always felt better afterwards anyway.

Mara was muggle-born. She didn't know anything about the wizarding world at all, most likely never even questioned its existence. I guess I should have been surprised that she was still my friend even though she went to school and I failed miserably at pretending to be home-schooled. She couldn't exactly ask me for help with her trigonometry homework, although she tried. But I guess since my mother was a Muggle too, she could talk to Mara's mother about lesson plans and therefore squash any suspicions Mara might have had.

Suspicions? Well, I'm sure there were suspicions about where I disappeared to every month after I got the bite. But did Mara Wilson ever connect Remus J. Lupin and werewolf? I bloody well hope not, cause nobody else knew until I left for Hogwarts.

Mara had some kind of disease, too. It made her have seizures every once in a while. It was called...epilepsy. Yes, that was it. Mystified the doctors, because her symptoms didn't really match the symptoms for it. But I was never with her when it happened, so I wouldn't know.

Mara is an orphan, by the way. When we were nine, both her parents died in a freak accident and Mara moved away. I was really sad for awhile. She was the only muggle friend I'd ever had. Not the only friend I'd had, mind you, my father took me to a lot of wizard gatherings and I met kids my own age, but there was some quality she possessed that the other children lacked. I've never been able to put my finger on it-- was it her warmth? Her sincerity? The way even when we fought, she could never hold a grudge? It's not important. The fact was, I forgot about her. Thought I would never see her again. And soon after she moved, I accepted that.

So you can imagine my surprise when I got off the Hogwarts Express on my first ever day of term, and who do I see but Mara Wilson.

That's right. She's a witch, too. And she's the one person I never expected to see wearing robes and a pointy black hat. Actually, I think she was a witch for Halloween once...but now I'm going off-topic.

We were both surprised, maybe even embarrassed for not keeping contact. That night, both of us were sorted into Gryffindor, along with three other boys I had met on the train who eventually became my best friends: James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. And still, we didn't really talk. I sometimes think she avoided me, and I never pressed the issue.

Mara is an enchantress as well. I learned this one time after I was returning from a prank with James and the crew around midnight. We were all hiding under the invisibility cloak, and we walked through the portrait hole and there she was, sitting in an armchair next to the dying fire playing her guitar. She was absolutely amazing. I was...well, entranced isn't really the right word. Bewitched is more like it. I stopped dead and couldn't move, as if I'd grown roots, and watched as her fingers danced elegantly over the strings. I didn't even know she could play guitar. Then she started singing. I didn't feel worthy of listening to her voice. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Did I mention Mara Wilson is also a thief? Yeah, when I was seventeen, she stole my heart and never gave it back.

----------------------------------------------

My name is Mara Wilson, and this story is as much mine as it is Remus's.

I always knew there was something weird about me, but I never knew I was a witch until after my parents died. When you go through as much pain and agony as I went through-waking up one day, and finding that both your parents are gone forever- a whole lot of frustration has to come out at some point. Mine happened to come out in the form of magic. So I wasn't really all that surprised when I got the letter. I was glad, actually, because it released me from the prison I'd been living in. I still can't tell you how much I miss my parents.

Before my world was savagely ripped apart, of course, my life was really very normal. There was the epilepsy, but seizures were rare. I went to school, I had friends. Not a lot, but a few close ones. I passed all my classes and worried about the normal things girls worried about- boys, hair, clothes, and stuff like that. I wasn't beautiful, but it never really bothered me. My friends didn't care about my appearance, so why should I? I was brought up to believe looks didn't get you anywhere.

All in all, life was simple. Nothing weird or crazy or strange ever happened. And I liked it that way.

Then there was Remus Lupin.

How do I describe him? He was my neighbor, and my best friend. I didn't see him at school--his mother home-schooled him-- but we still talked back and forth via our windows. He wasn't immature, like most of the boys in my class. The two of us could actually have an intelligent conversation.

By the time I was seven, I had started looking at him in a whole new way. Every time I was near him my stomach gave this weird sort of lurch, and I found myself going out of my way to talk to him. To stare into his eyes, or admire the way his hair fell across his forehead.

I know what you're thinking. A silly little crush, right? A childish infatuation. How could a seven year old actually feel anything more than a crush? But I felt more than that, and that feeling lasted. Lasted for a much longer time than I expected, or even wanted.

That's why I nearly lost it when I had to move away. I didn't lose only my parents. I lost Remus, too.

My years at the orphanage were torture. The other kids were not compassionate; the fact that we all were parentless meant nothing. It didn't bring us together, and I found no comfort in the dark, gloomy building. It didn't help that sometimes I became so angry I used magic. After I magically threw this one kid, Lewis White, out the window (he had been doing impressions of one of my seizures) the other children shunned me once and for all. This wasn't all that was on my mind. I was constantly plagued by a fear of which the other children did not know.

I withdrew into a shell, refused to talk. While the other children were downstairs, gazing stupidly at the television or playing board games that had half the pieces missing, I was sitting on my bed and trembling. Missing my mom, missing my dad, missing Remus, missing my life. It was gone. Forever.

The thing that kept me going was my one and only talent. Music.

My father had taught me to play the guitar by the time I was five. He was always very proud of it. My voice wasn't half bad, either, and I had won a few awards from various shows and county fairs. It soothed my nerves and was a way to release emotion. Not to mention it was a lot safer than magic, a talent I possessed but was as scared of as the other kids.

So when I felt as if life wasn't worth living (a feeling I admit I had several times a day) I pulled my guitar out from under my sagging bed and strummed it. The notes brought hope and life to the depressing room.

When I got my letter I was thrilled, though not surprised. I was finally leaving. I only had to come back during the summers. I was going to have friends again, run around free and be able to breathe. I was going to learn magic!

I bought robes, spell books, a cauldron, a wand. Diagon Alley was incredible. So was the train ride to the castle, even though I didn't make any friends. My eyes may have frightened the other students away, which is understandable. They tend to stand out a bit.

When I stepped off the train, my heart froze. Because there, not five feet away, laughing loudly with three other boys, was Remus. My Remus. When he turned around and looked directly into my eyes, you could have sliced the tension between us with a knife. Immediately we both turned on our heels and walked away as quickly as we could. We haven't spoken since, and I miss it horribly.

Truth be told, I never really did make friends, and I'm no good at magic at all. Life at Hogwarts is a lot better than the orphange, but I would give anything and everything just to live my old life again for one day. When all I had to worry about was whether or not I passed the math test, and a legend nearly as old as Hogwarts itself didn't threaten to destroy my already grief-stricken world.

So I watched from afar as Remus and the other Marauders pulled prank after prank, became the coolest kids in school, and graduated top of their year, every year. In 5th year I noticed the prefect badge on Remus's chest right away, just as I noticed how he never had a girlfriend and seemed to disappear for a few days every month. It was very mysterious, how that happened regularly and no one knew why. Sometimes it almost made me think Remus had a secret that nobody else could know.

But then again, that's okay. So did I.

................................................................

This chapter used to contain only the first half- from Remus's POV- but I didn't like it so I came back and added Mara's POV as well.

To give you more of an . . .umm . . .urge to review, I have enlisted the help of my pet Barney the Bat {.,.} who made a minor appearance in my last story. Barney, you see, likes to sing and hopes that if his lyrics are published online some agent might sign him a record deal. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. So, umm . . .you might want to get a pair of earplugs or something . . .

Barney: Ok, people, this song is to the tune of "Loverly" from "My Fair Lady," and the Hampton Inn commercials. I decided to rewrite the words because my owner has had this song stuck in her head for the last week or so, and it's really bugging her.

Me: Gee, thanks. You know me so well.

Barney: (grabs microphone)

All I want is a few reviews,

With compliments if the readers choose,

Let's hope they don't abuse

Oh wouldn't it be loverly?

I love to sign onto AOL

And see a review alert, oh it's swell,

They make me write real well

Oh wouldn't it be loverly?

Getting reviews is so much fun,

I get mad when I have none,

Then I use my machine gun

Oh--"

Me: Hold it! Hold everything!

Barney: (looks as me expectantly)

Me: You can't say that! What if they report us to the site? What if they call the police?!

Barney: Well, sometimes I think a good threat can really do the trick. They'll be reviewing in no time.

I think my bat has finally lost it . . .but don't worry, he doesn't have a machine gun. At least, I don't think he does…

-Padfoot-Dreamer-