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DANCING WITH WOLVES
I do not own Harry Potter the series nor any of the recognisable characters I write about here - that honour goes to J. K. Rowling. I have enjoyed the series, but not quite as much as I have several other children fantasy stories and of course, Tolkien. However I love wolves and the creation of Remus Lupin continues to haunt my muse. With Remus, came Sirius and for these wonderful characters, thank you Ms. Rowling.
Dancing with Wolves - Two Step (Part 2) 1971 The crowd was overwhelming. The whirlwind of colours dizzily confusing and the scents, oh the scents, were a flood of sensations that flooded up his nostrils, just nearly robbing his ability to breathe. Remus hugged his satchel closer, desperately quelling the impulse to whimper and cower under the baggage compartment. He was a sheltered child, too long unused to company, and it was a shock, to discover that the world was far noisier and busier than the pictures in the Daily Prophet suggested. He could not concentrate under the relentless assaults on his acute senses. He willed himself to face the chaos down the aisle, but his feet remained rooted. “Oh, hurry along already!” A huff of exasperation startled Remus and he turned to see a young boy impatiently tapping his foot. The lad was as young as he was, a mop of unruly hair framing an angelic face. In a matter days, Remus would learn that this face promised only mischief; but at that moment, the scowl only betrayed displeasure at an indecisive idiot who had dared to obstruct his path. “So-o-o-rr-y!” Remus stammered and took a step back immediately. He was still unused to strangers – for the last six years of his life, he had been kept in the cocoon his parents had lovingly and fearfully woven around him. Resigned that he would never make it down the aisle unless dragged screaming along, Remus put a tentative hand into the proffered palm and grasped it like the sole lifeline that it was and would become. In that one unexpected moment, Remus was immediately drawn to the light musky scent, the slight whiff of familiar wilderness, a scent that soothed and reassured - and suddenly, maybe chaos was not so bad after all. The boy raised an eyebrow at the look of bewilderment on Remus’ face, but closed his fingers over the smaller hand and began to pull Remus along behind him. As they hurried down the aisle, the boy glanced back at his companion and said, “My name’s Sirius. Don’t ask me about my last name, I’ve forgotten it. What’s yours?" But I am a beast, am I not? Remus touched the trees as he passed them, subconsciously savouring the feel of rough bark and damp moss under his fingers. If he could have gotten away with walking without his shoes, he would have but he found it too difficult to explain the cuts and the dirt. The hum of the cicadas rang in his sensitive ears and the scent of the earth flooded his nose. His senses had always been keener than his peers’ were. The unexpected benefit of being a werewolf, the little voice in his mind mocked. Remus came to the rock, no doubt once a part of the surrounding mountains, now resting in disgruntled peace under an old oak tree. Putting his books down, he took off his robes, carefully folding them on top of his books, before planting himself down and leaning against the tree. He hated washing his robes. Staring at the light dancing through the remaining leaves overhead, Remus sighed and muttered to himself, “I don’t know what I am anymore.” The woods called out to him. Even in his most conscious state, even when he was most in control of his rationality, he had been compelled to indulge the wolf within and to seek out the comfort of rock, hills and trees. He’d spent the last week surrounding himself with the wealth of books, scrolls and parchment. He had forced his brain to work through a thousand and one subjects, deliberately written six long scrolls for History of Magic, and completed an entire term’s work on arithmacy– if only to remind himself that he was human. Thought. It was the only thing that separated man from the common beasts. But it was all to no avail. Ever since the one dance he shared with Sirius, all he could think of was the feel of flesh. The taste remained faintly on the tip of his tongue; the sweet, sweet scent of blood whirled in his consciousness. He could all but feel the warmth of his friend’s arms about him and when he closed his eyes, he could see the white throat just before him. Mine. The thought scared him. He had spent so much of his life fighting the wolf he had never wanted to become, but why was it getting so difficult now? Remus shook his head sharply, as if he could clean the thought out of his mind, but still Sirius stayed stubbornly in his mind. He had not spoken with Sirius for the longest time, at least not in the same manner that he had for the better part of their last five years in Hogwarts. The wave of loneliness swept over him unbidden – he had not spoken with any of the Marauders for what felt like eons. He missed them. Not just being with them, but being himself with them. It was only last year when the four of them would actually look forward to the full moon, when the four of them would prowl the grounds from Hogsmeade through the Forbidden Forest, searching for the elusive adventure. It was only a year ago, when he had his first real taste of unadulterated freedom and he had learned to yearn for more. But the excuses began. Suddenly, full moon nights were better spent sneaking into the Astronomy tower to snicker and giggle over stolen kisses. Or for beauty sleep, because high heavens forbid that you should walk out of the dorm with dark eye rings. He even became the excuse. It was thrilling bringing the rare daring girl through the tunnels out to Hogsmeade in the dead of the night, even more rewarding to bring her close to the famously haunted Shrieking Shack. Did it matter, that there was a lone werewolf cowering in a corner of the decrepit building, screaming in pain at the self-inflicted abuse? Remus snorted bitterly. It was cruel, really – turning Animagi, giving him that one long draught of freedom and joyful company and then unexpectedly snatching it out of his reach again. They had not realized that what for them was a novelty was for him the only tiniest flicker of hope and salvation. Why give him a sliver of what it could have been at all? Raising his arms up to the light, he gazed at the scars marring his pale skin, crisscrossing down from his arms to his torso. A wolf’s teeth sink deeply. He’d etched every ounce of desire, every breath of yearning into his very flesh. He had only that much more blood to shed before he forgot that he was among the living altogether. Remus gently caressed the newest wound on his left forearm. As desperation clawed at his heart and the yearning threatened to seize him, he ran his fingernails sharply into the wound – welcoming the stab of pain, which offered him temporary relief from an ache much harder to heal. He felt the blood wetting his fingers and watched with blank fascination as the blood wound around his arm before drying in a warped pattern under the shadows of sunlight. He was still alive. Females, he decided, were horribly persistent creatures. Merlin! Don’t they know what is good for them?! He would have basked in the attention – in fact he would have reveled in it, but he simply was not in the right frame of mind. Perhaps it was rather self-centred, but Sirius did not believe in accommodating anyone or anything that he did not care for. At the moment he did not care much for girls and the Ball, and thought nothing of dismissing any girl off hand, even one who had obviously spent a good part of the week working up her courage. That was what separated James from himself, Sirius thought darkly. James might be arrogant, condescending, and judgmental towards anyone he did not consider a friend, but he was never cruel. James’ words were almost always more cutting than his thoughts, and certainly more callous than his actions. James made fun of the younger students, loudly criticizing their pathetic attempts at Quidditch and rolling his eyes at their decided inability to cast proper Charms. But James was also the only captain to allow every single fumbling year twos and threes to take to the Quidditch pitch during the games finals, even if it came close to costing them the Cup. When he lorded over the younger students, he still took care to point out their mistakes in their assignments. Small wonder why James would have won a popularity poll any day – in spite of his loud ways. Sirius, on the other hand, knew he did not have it in him. When he played Quidditch with the junior years, he had no intention of encouraging their fledging confidence – he was merely bored. If he chose to help Peter with the dorm’s season decorations, it was not out of friendship – it merely entertained him to watch Peter’s many blunders and enjoyed the smaller boys sense of wonder when he then took over the mangled tasks effortlessly. He had had enough of living his life for somebody else. He would do nothing that was not for himself. He paused at the thought, even as he continued his way back to the dormitory. That was not entirely true. He would have gladly done anything for Professor Dumbledore – he who had stepped in front of the formidable Blacks in defense of a rebellious youth’s right to choose an independent life. Then for James, who had time and again rescued his sanity. It was, after all James, who had taught him how conventional wisdom could be eschewed and how life had to be seized by the throat. And for Remus. The thought amused him, as he turned round the corner. Remus was easily the first and only person he had felt compelled to lend a hand to, for no other reason than the fact he could help. Even several years after the fact, he was unsuccessful at rationalizing why he had turned back then and offered a shy lad a helping hand and his friendship. There was just no logical reason for it. Perhaps he was just dizzy with his new-found freedom at that point and just had to share that boundless joy with someone. Still, for the longest time, the other Marauders had no idea why they got on so famously with the overachieving goody-two-shoes. Then they learned: Remus took them just for who they are, never for what they do or where they came from. There was no childish glee and no boyish awe at any of the pranks they pulled. For most part, Remus ignored the furor over their latest antics. There was no mention of bloodlines, no concern about their behavior, and no hint of wonder at the difference between their world and his. Sirius was quite certain that even if he were the son of the Minister of Magic or the nephew of Merlin himself, Remus would care less. Remus offered simple, unconditional acceptance. There was no constant need to prove themselves. Not that he had expected that when they first met. Sirius smiled to himself as he took the stairs leading up to the tower. He had spent many evenings just resting beside Remus as the latter worked on essays after essays – entirely just for his own self-enrichment, of course – with no compulsion to speak at all. He had spent more evenings trying his best to distract Remus from their intense games of chess with sob-stories, only partly fictional, from his childhood. He had yet to beat Remus at chess. Not that he had seen all that much of Remus lately, he noted glumly. Sirius walked into the dormitory, ignoring the screech of the Fat Lady attempting to sing arias from her latest operetta and the hustle and bustle in the common room. He just had a brilliant stroke of genius – he had just the thing to distract Remus with. Ha! Revenge would be more than sweet. He came to their room before he could give that thought more time, and frowned with some disappointment when he saw only James. “Where’s Remus?” Sirius could not help asking, his eyes sweeping across Remus’ obsessively tidy corner. James did not bother to look up from his scrolls. “Haven’t seen him. Just been by the library and he wasn’t there either.” Sirius’ frown deepened. He was quite certain that Remus had the last two periods free. Positively curious! Remus has another hideout other than our room and the library? When did that happen? Now to think of it, where on earth has he been this past week? Sirius mulled over Remus’ absence – he shared a room with Remus and yet, he honestly could not think of any time this last week he had managed to catch Remus outside of class. He tossed his books on to his bedside table and looked over his shoulder at James. He was just about to ask another question when it suddenly dawned upon him. “This is rich. James Potter,” Sirius smirked. “Going by the library and doing all your homework two weeks before it’s due.” “Some of us actually have to work for our grades,” James snarled as he gave up on his Defense against the Dark Arts essay for the tenth consecutive time. Throwing his books onto the bedside table, he slumped back into bed. James hated the indoors. “Pot calling kettle Black,” Sirius grinned, “You were skiving in Hogsmeade every other night and playing Quidditch every other day throughout our Owls, and you still scored straight E’s. What work?” “Shut up, Padfoot.” “Touchy, aren’t we?” “Hardly.” “So what are you even doing indoors?” James shot Sirius a withering look and replied snidely, “I could dangle you out for the cats. Have you tried walking down the corridors today?” Sirius shrugged, as he took off his robes and changed to his sweater. “That is how I came back. Can’t Apparate.” James rolled his eyes. “I am surprised they let you get back in one piece.” “They?” Sirius asked dryly, knowing full well whom James was referring to. “Did someone put a price out there on my head?!” “Clay of Ravenclaw. He is still sore that we won the last match.” “You know what I mean. You of all people,” James growled. “Give me Clay, any guy, any day – it’s much easier getting a message across with our fists.” Oh dear, Sirius thought as he tried to get his mind out of the gutter and the world of subtexts in general. “I suppose you have spent your day getting messages across to your flurry of admirers?” “Just one message: Not interested.” “Liar on fire. You spent the last week talking our ears dry with the Ball.” “Not interested in any of the girls. There is a dearth of decent dates here in Hogwarts.” “Or you are just spoiled for any other girl,” Sirius snorted. “Face it, Prongs, you are smitten.” “Am not” was the short reply. “Sure, and you don’t even have to ask whom I think you are smitten with. Just ask her. Dolt.” “Can’t, shan’t.” “You can’t ask her?” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose you can’t. Pride is a hard pill to swallow. You did declare to at least half the Quidditch field within hearing distance that you would never be caught dead with Lily.” “Correction,” James said, his arm covering his eyes as he continued playing a tragically dead hero in his bed. “I merely said, hell could freeze over twice before I would go out with her.” “Right. Technicalities. Swallow the pride.” “I did.” Sirius choked on the sip of water he was taking. He turned to look at his friend with mounting pity and incredulity. Darn, he was so sure James and Lily were perfect for each other that he has ten knuts in the betting pool. “She rejected?!” “Of course not, why would she? I haven’t asked.” Sirius rolled his eyes. He could afford ten knuts but he did not like losing much. “How’s that swallowing your pride?!” James sat up and looked at Sirius meaningfully, weighing just how much he could tell this particular friend, his closest friend notwithstanding. His battle with reluctance was brief, and taking a deep breath, he said in an uncharacteristically soft voice, “I can’t hold my own against Remus, can I?” “What does this have to …” Sirius’ confused response trailed off as he realized what James was asking. “Remus and Lily?” Sirius sat down facing James as his brain struggled against the fog of incredulity. Remus and Lily? The thought was entirely new to him – Impossible. Sirius paused at the his instinctive venom and chewed thoughtfully on his thumb. Why not, he dared the voice in his head. Because. Remus and Lily? Remus can’t possibly like Lily! Why not? Remus and Lily would make quite a picture together, the school belle and the First Gentleman. They had been friends since their very first Charms class together, when both recognized a kindred spirit in their love for knowledge. No one else understood their references to obscure scrolls and even James and he had trouble keeping up with their conversation, so quickly they thought on their feet. Most certainly, no one else would have spent as much time in the library as they could. Who else would have rejoiced at receiving a pass to the Restricted Section? Their shared love of learning was only the cornerstone of their friendship – there was no question that both cared deeply for the other. Remus had only lost his temper once in Hogwarts and he had only ever raised his voice at a female that one time when an unthinking Ravenclaw girl made Lily cry with a particularly nasty insult. Vivacious and feisty Lily had also often stepped in front of the quiet Remus, forcing many boys to swallow the potentially malicious teasing. Lily made Remus smile. Still, impossible. Sirius trusted his instincts. Lily could not possibly like Remus, or at least, not romantically so. It was even easier imagining her liking Severus Snape. He could not quite explain why he would think this way, save two things: Lily seldom bantered or argued with Remus: conversation flowed easily between the two of them and they were more often of like mind than not. Also, Lily did not have the habit of picking out the exact moment Remus walked into the room, much less honed the skill of turning herself artfully away from the door to pointedly ignore the newcomer. But she did with James. “See? Don’t fret over your reply,” James sighed. Resignation and regret did not suit him well. “I came to the same conclusion last night. Bitter truth, bested by a werewolf.” “James Potter!” Sirius retorted immediately, outraged by James’ careless comment. “He is a werewolf, Sirius,” James replied without heat. “It’s not that I can pretend he is not, all the worse. I still think he makes a better man than I do, even knowing he is a werewolf.” Sirius leant back into his chair, thrown back into contemplation. Does Remus have more to prove? Just because he is a werewolf? Remus always did work harder than he really had to. Sirius doubted that Remus actually had to study for his grades. In their Fourth Year, Remus came down with pneumonia after a particularly bad full moon. Having lost too much blood from his incessant biting during his Transformation, he had spent the month before the examinations too weak to do anything else but sleep in the healing wing. It did not, however, stop him from going to the examinations hall straight out of his bed and earning top marks on three of the essays. That was the only time he had ever seen Remus defying the teachers. Sirius felt a pang of heartache for his friend. It was unbelievable that he’s only now realized why Remus spent longer hours studying than anyone else, why he felt the need to spend time in the Common Room helping the younger students with their work, why he always stayed to help James clean up after a Quidditch match, why he took being a prefect so seriously – why Remus was constantly pushing himself. Remus was overcompensating for being a werewolf. “I mean, Remus is our mate, best friends and all,” James said, conflict clearly on his face, “… and I can’t really fault Evan’s choice. He is a great chap and we probably know that better than anyone else. But…” He looked up at Sirius and tried to continue, but overcome with shame, he turned aside and muttered, “But, Merlin take me, I just don’t like the thought of Evans going out with a werewolf.” Sirius glared at James with some disbelief. Jealousy he could understand, but he had not expected James, of all people, to think so unkindly of Remus. Remus Lupin – not only one of their best friends, but one of the gentlest souls in Hogwarts. “James Potter, imagine if he had heard that!” Sirius scolded feebly. He opened his mouth in an attempt to chastise James, but no other words came. What if Remus already knew that? Sirius’ mind turned to Remus. What would Remus feel knowing this fundamental betrayal by one of his closest friends? No, wait, as sharp as Remus was, he would already have known that even if his friends did not feel this way, society at large would. As self-flagellating as Remus was, as gentle, as ethical as he was, he would have thought the same. A werewolf is alone. Remus had never dated. In fact, he had never spoken of any female – at least not in the same way as every other boy. Sirius recalled this with shame. How was it that he never did realize his friend’s pain? As memories of the last few months came back to him, he could see clearly now, how quiet Remus had become now that all everyone could talk about was Quidditch and girls, how often Remus had hidden himself in the library; how often he now volunteered to help with a teacher’s research, how much he avoided the Marauders – how much Remus had distanced himself. Merlin, how was it that he missed something so obvious! It was exactly why his instincts did not believe for a second that Remus and Lily could be an item. Remus would never allow it. “I know…” James said after a long silence, interrupting Sirius’ thoughts. “I can’t help feeling that way. I have been thinking about it since Christmas dinner last year. It’s terrible, isn’t it? They were dancing so beautifully with each other and all I could think was, Merlin, does Evans know she was dancing with a werewolf?!” James paused and looked glumly at Sirius, “But he is our friend. It just doesn’t feel right, fighting with a mate, and a close mate at that, for a girl. I mean, if he were the worst possible sod, I would have no qualms going after Evans, but he is Remus… The First Gentleman. And my friend.” “This won’t happen to be the reason why you are hardly speaking with Remus these days, will it?” Sirius asked pointedly. Remus was not the only one distancing himself. James sighed and slumped back onto his bed in a bid to avoid Sirius’ searching glare. “You know my tongue and my temper, Padfoot. If I hadn’t, it would only be a matter of time before I insult him to his face. He’s still a friend, and I can’t lose this friendship can I?” Sirius looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. When did friendship become so complicated? Sighing as deeply as James, he said quietly, “I don’t think you have so much to think about. I will bet you every bit of my inheritance that even if Lily is interested, Remus is not.” James tilted his head to look up at the pensive Sirius. “What makes you so sure?” “He has more foresight than we do, Prongs, and possibly a few decades more maturity,” Sirius said, still pensive. “Even if he manages to date without incident, even if he manages to marry, he knows well enough that any child of his could be a werewolf. What makes you think he has not already thought of that? If he even harboured an iota of attraction towards Lily, he would have started avoiding her completely.” Sirius’ eyes snapped open as a sudden thought crossed his mind, bringing him back to his strong desire for a game of chess. He thought of the dance they shared a week ago for the umpteenth time, but with renewed glee. Could it be? His sudden mirth was not lost on James, who was only just beginning to find a smile. Grinning easily at Sirius now, he said, “That happy a thought?” “Oh yes,” Sirius drawled out every syllable. Getting up of his chair, he walked over to James’ bed and grasped his friend’s shoulder. “I think there is only one way of setting your mind at ease” James raised an eyebrow. He was beginning to feel more like himself than he had for the last few months – and it felt good. “Dare I?” Sirius smiled conspiratorially, “We ask, of course.” Why exactly the werewolf had been avoiding me for the last week?
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