Pale September,

I wore the time like a dress that year
The autumn days swung soft around me, like cotton on my skin

She lay awake, staring out the window at the glowing opal in the sky. It wasn't full, not yet, but tomorrow night it would be. This time tomorrow she would be in her own room and he would be in his, alone, cold and in his lupine form. Waiting for the moon to start it's decent and him to turn back into himself. He wouldn't let her be there for him then and it made her heart ache, but she had now; now when he was waiting. It was the waiting , she knew, that taxed him more than anything. She couldn't be there for the change but she could be there for the days before. When he was the most vulnerable, when he could see how so very close he was to losing his sense. He hated the loss of control even more and she knew it.

But as the embers of the summer lost their breath and disappeared
My heart went cold and only hollow rhythms resounded from within

So she would come to him when he lay sleepless in his room. And he would wait for her to climb into bed with him before he curled into her his head on her breast, or belly, or sometimes her shoulder and she would wrap her arms around him and stroke his hair and neck. Sometimes he would have nightmares, and wake up fighting as if for his life, crying out. Sometimes she could kiss his brow and simply hold him tighter and he would calm down, and sometimes she had to wake him up, but always he would sigh and cling to her again. It sometimes bothered him, being so vulnerable. He would think that she was wasting her time with him and his needs, his baggage. That never lasted long. Before she would get mad at him and be hurt, but now it simply amused her and she'd roll her eyes at him and go back to whatever it was she had been doing.

But then he rose brilliant as the moon in full
And sank in the burrows of my keep

He'd never understand how much she loved this. Knowing that when he was at his worst she was the only one he would come to, the one he trusted enough to let himself go with. She liked taking care of him, healing him. She could only hope that over time she could heal the hurts he held so deep inside as well. A kind of peace had settled deep inside her bones just lying with him like this, it always did; His long lanky form limp against hers, his long hair half obscuring his face. Looking down, she smiled at his face half buried in her bare stomach having pushed up her camisole before settling there. A shaft of moonlight illuminated his face making his pale skin glow like silver. He looked so young when sleeping, so relaxed and it seemed strange to her that the moon he so despised was the thing that made him so beautiful.

And all my armor falling down, in a pile at my feet
And my winter giving way to warm, as I'm singing him to sleep

A glance over at the clock told her that it was four am. She should have been asleep a long time ago. Three hours to be exact. Her eyes were tired, she was tired, but she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes and submit to slumber. Not when he was so lovely to look at. Suddenly she wished that his eyes were open so she could peer into those incredible eyes. She had never seen eyes like those in her whole life; Hazel brown, almost gold, either like honey warmed by the sun or cold and as hard as amber depending on his mood. They were beautiful eyes, windows into an equally beautiful soul. Quiet, kind, calm until you got deeper; then it became complicated. He was remarkably complex, a pandemonium of contradictions; A mischievous gentleman, a remarkable refined werewolf, a bookish prankster, a silent but passionate man, a man of incredible strength and dignity that loved to hold and be held, the solemn man with a beautiful smile. It was heart rending at first, how much he yearned for comfort. He would never ask for it but the need was there, ever present. He seemed kind, simple easy going, but deep inside there was more, There was a mystery to Remus Lupin that few were blessed to be privy to.

He goes along just as a water lily.

Gentle on the surface of his thought his body floats.

Unweighed down by passion or intensity,

yet unaware of the depth upon which he coasts.

She loved to watch him. How he moved. The things that were habit like the way he ate like a Victorian woman, slowly, carefully, holding his knife and fork just so, and not spilling a crumb. It was fascinating. He always smelt things before partaking of them. Not sniffing. But inhaling large gulps of them, discreetly of course but it would be obvious if you actually looked at him. He savored it secretly, perhaps because he was never perfectly certain when he would have his next meal, or because there were few things that he had left to enjoy. She loved to see him smile. He had dimples, huge ones at the corners of his mouth and wrinkles at the corners of his twinkling eyes. They were so precious, especially now with so much waste and loss around them. There was so much sadness and fear with the war and it seemed that his way of dealing with it was to not feel, which would have been fine if it had actually worked… and if she hadn't been in love with him. That had been a bit inconvenient for him, especially since he loved her as well. If it had been only one of them, or if she hadn't been herself, she was sure that he would have succeeded. She felt him shift in his sleep a small sound of distress sounding form the back of his throat and his arms tightened around her waist. Her hand came up to play with his hair, stroking, soothing him, her fingers gently playing across his scalp and neck.

And he finds a home in me.

For what misfortune sows he knows my touch with reap.

And all my armor falling down, in a pile at my feet.

And my winter giving way to warm as I'm singing him to sleep.

She felt the subtle change in his breathing, signaling that he probably wouldn't sleep anymore tonight and then he shifted again his eyes opening with a sigh and he breathed her scent in. She continued to play with his thick, silky hair her smile broadening as he looked up at her. The corner of his mouth quirked a bit, his sleepy eyes full of fondness.

"Hello." He whispered hoarsely, scooting up to lay his head on her breast instead.

"Wotcher." She replied, shifting to accommodate him. He sighed and his eyes closed as he breathed in the scent there. He had told her once that she smelled different all over. She could never figure out what he what he was talking about but it didn't matter. She liked the way her stomach flipped over whenever he smelt her.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Early yet," she said. He seemed satisfied with that for a moment, and then-

"Can you not sleep?"

"I probably could. I just don't want to." She replied. His eyes, now quizzical, peered up at her before his eyebrow quirked.

All my armor falling down, in a pile at my feet.

And my winter giving way to warm as I'm singing him to sleep.

"Were you watching me again?" he asked his head rising up to stare at her head on. She smiled and kissed his forehead. "I don't like it when you do that." He muttered

"What do you care?" she shot back teasingly. "You're asleep when I'm looking at you."

"But I still know that you do it." He replied.

"No you don't."

"Well I do when I wake up and it's the same thing." He said his head going back to his makeshift pillow.

"Go back to sleep." She felt him smile against her flesh.

"Are you going to stare at me?" he asked.

"No." she replied

"Liar." He muttered. She smiled again.

"Sleep Remus." She whispered, pressing another kiss on his head. He smiled and kissed the curve of her breast and then settled again. This time when he fell asleep, she joined him.

All my armor falling down, in a pile at my feet.

And my winter giving way to warm as I'm singing him to sleep.