A/N: so one of four stories going up today YAY! this is actually my first harry remus one-shot, haven't even dabbled in it, harry sirius, yes, harry remus, not so much. but i have to say i like the idea of it, they got on so well together. so before you read the one-shot keep in mind. I HATE GINERVA WEASLY, so if you like her tough cookies cause i think she's a beyotch, and harry shouldn't have married her; she is a useless character. so i don't really bash her but its not like i'm going to treat her like she's important, to me she's as important as Hanna Abbott. no offense to the comparison Hanna. now, to the story.

/ |||| To Want |||| \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

I want to run my hands down your arms, I want to try to lay your hair flat and pull you in for a kiss.I want to be the one whom you call your, the one who warms your bed and arms, the one who stays.

I want to be the one who holds you when you cry, who holds you when you moan, the who holds you at night. I want to be the one to receive you kisses, to receive your love, to receive your devotion, to receive your mind and soul.

I want to be there when your angry, when you yell and when you scream, in pain, anger, and pleasure.I want the freedom to call your name whenever I choose with no purpose, to hold your hand when I want, to hug you.

I want you, to want me as much as I do, to need me as much as I need you, to love me. I want you, I need you, I love you, and even though these are my wants and needs, I know you cannot give them to me.

I know that if circumstances had been different I may not have felt this way, that you may not have had these delusions of giving me all I wanted no matter the cost. I still yearn for it though, you would not have died because of me if things were different.

As I lay here, next to her, red hair a flame on her pillow; our children sleeping in the next rooms, your son among my own, I cannot help but wish you had been here as well. Your son, precious Teddy, will have so many questions, and what will I tell him?

How can I explain that I knew you were ticklish, or that you had a light patch of freckles on your left hip? How can I explain that your hands were tough but gentle, or how you smelled like chocolate and books even in the shower?

How could I explain that I loved you?

So I lay here wanting what I cannot have and thinking up excuses to post pone questions and make false answers so I can start telling myself them now. Start now and hope that by then I would believe them too. So when he asks I'll actually believe myself when I say you were madly in love with his mother and how you had eyes for no one else.

How you were in love with her for so long, when you had been with me in truth, when I know you wanted to stay with me to show me how I was still first, how I made you stay because you were in love, not because I was so hurt that you could touch another, even if she knew.

How you died for the purpose of the Greater Good, for the light to win, not how you died because I denied you to stay by my side. I want so much, yet I get what I deserve. This hellish punishment, your baby; your baby, my baby cub, the only reprieve I'm allowed.

The only thing I have that is part of you.

Such a fitting punishment, I'm sure you would think so if our places reversed; how tragically romantic, and I laugh softly and slip to sleep at last.

The full moon as pregnant as it usually is, and I'll be up in an hour, your cub tugging on my shirt wanting comfort for his aching bones; and we will rest together, his small form cuddled to my side.

How can I explain I want you back too?