Refugee
** ** ** ** **
Hermione,
You drive me fucking crazy and I can’t figure out if I want to kill you or
** ** ** ** **
Hermione,
Pablo Neruda once wrote ‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride. I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’ And I never understood what he meant until now, because I can’t explain it, for all of my attempts at rationalization, I just simply know that this IS, and that we ARE
** ** ** ** **
H
Left while you were asleep, had to get an early start. See you when I see you.
R
** ** ** ** **
Hermione
What are you and why is everything about you so fucking strange and so fucking perfect and why do you look at everybody like you hold all the knowledge in the fucking universe and if you DO in fact hold all the knowledge in the universe then why the fuck aren’t you sharing it with the rest of the class because I’m losing my gods forsaken mind trying to wrap my head around why you make my teeth hurt and my cock so hard that it feels like it’s going to break off and how come the other night when Sirius bumped in to my chair and I dropped my cigarette on the sleeve of my jumper you spent the rest of the night toying with a hole in the exact same spot on your jumper, which just so happens to look exactly like my fucking jumper if someone had ran it over a dozen times? Why do you look at Sirius like you're afraid he's going to disappear and why do you look at ME like you aren't sure if I’m real and why do you always look on the verge of tears when you see James laugh and why do you say so many weird things like that ‘talk to the hand’ think and what the fuck have you been through to have so many scars and how is it that you studied in France for seven years yet you have to pretend to understand French when Sirius speaks it? Are you a seer or some sort of weird creature I don’t know exists? Are you here for a reason? Am I that reason? Do you know why you make me feel this way? Why won’t you fucking tell me?
** ** ** ** **
Hermione,
Left early, forgot to tell you that you’re welcome to borrow any books you’d like while I’m gone. See you soon,
Yours,
** ** ** ** **
Ystyr geiriau: Sut y fuck y gallaf arogli eich bod yn ofylu ar hyn o bryd? Sut ydw i hyd yn oed yn gwybod hynny? sut y fuck ydw i fod i gerdded allan y drws a gadael pan alla i arogli eich cunt o ar draws y neuadd? Ydy'r cunt bach pert yna'n blasu fel bore nadolig, hefyd?
(How the fuck can I smell that you're ovulating right now? How do I even know that? how the fuck am i supposed to walk out the door and leave when I can smell your cunt from across the hall? Does that pretty little cunt taste like Christmas morning, too?)
** ** ** ** **
Hermione,
I’ve felt as if I’m losing my mind, in both the best and worst ways, since the moment I saw you sitting on that couch, twenty-nine days ago. It should be impossible to feel everything you make me feel in such a short time, but, given the fact that I felt said everything the instant I saw you, I’ve already decided that I’m certifiable and belong in the loony bin. Guess the prats at school were onto something with that whole ‘Loony Lupin’ thing after all.
But I can’t help it. I crave you in a way I’ve never craved anything. I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair … fuck. That’s Neruda again. Look at yourself, Remus, you fucking git. Rattling off love poems and sniffing sweaters like a maniac and now you’re writing to yourself like a madman. Shit. I need to journal.
** ** ** ** **
9th August 1978
Remus sighed and balled up yet another scrap of parchment, adding it to the small mountain of discarded letters on his desk, and then slumped forward and rested his face in his hands.
He should have slept. He had to leave before sunrise in order to get through the multiple points of apparition it would take to reach the forest and then hike the few hours to the encampment before sundown.
He had been writing for years. Growing up, there wasn’t much else to do, given that he wasn’t allowed to play with other children and there was only so much he and his Mam could do to entertain themselves during the long hours his father was at work – or the incredible times when Lyall would be gone for days or weeks on an excursion – so his mother had shared her love of reading and writing with him, and he had scribbled his musings for years before Dumbledore suggested he start keeping an official journal.
While not a man of many, in the verbal sense, words had never failed Remus. Yet, as had become par for the course where one curly, dizzying witch was concerned – he was coming up short. He needed to leave before she would wake, and some part of him was content with that. They had left off on a good note.
Well, a terrifying one, when she had just so casually revealed that she knew of his Lycanthropy, but then she’d rolled right in to the fact that she found him interesting and she liked him and then she kissed him and she, somehow, just… made it okay. He should be panicking over the fact that she knew. When Lily revealed that she did, he threw up and missed two days of classes. When the guys confronted him, he went to Dumbledore and begged to be removed from the school, because he was so convinced that if they knew, he would be tempted to get closer to them, and if he got closer to them, he could harm them.
Hermione had been right, though. He had never harmed them. Save for that godsdamned prank in fifth year – still a touchy subject he and Sirius had mutually agreed not to speak of, because Remus was quite sure he’d never get over it – he’d never even come remotely close to harming someone. There was something to be said for the fact that he’d also only been close with people in a platonic sense, to this point, of course.
Hermione made him feel feral and unsettled.
Possessive.
Giddy.
Dangerous.
Horny.
Sappy.
Bitey.
Somehow, though, she simultaneously settled him. He was terrified of harming her, yet absolutely positive that he was incapable of doing so.
It all had a dizzying effect on him. He kept coming back to that term, over and over, but really, she was very dizzying. And she had kissed him again.
With a sigh, he vanished the little pile of discarded attempts at a letter and pulled out his journal.
August 8th, 1978
J-
Because timing is a bitch, as they say – not sure WHO says that, but, I digress -I’ll be away for a while. Order business. Dumbledore wants me to infiltrate a pack and sniff around and see if Moldy is trying to recruit werewolves, so I’ll be off running with the wolves for a bit.
I don’t want to leave her. She told me that she knows, tonight. And then she kissed me.
In that order. ‘I know you’re a werewolf, Remus,’ and THEN she kissed me. She isn’t afraid of me. She should be. It balances out, I suppose. I’m certainly afraid enough of myself for the both of us.
I could bitch and moan for hours about all the things I’m feeling about leaving her. But I have to leave. This war is bigger than the both of us, and I need to keep her safe, so, off I go.
Do you think this argyle jumper says, ‘Hello, I’m a feral beast?’ or should I go with the cable-knit? Lily says that one brings out my eyes.
Let’s pretend I’m not panicking.
I fucking hate this.
Shit, Cunt, Arse, Etc. Etc.
-RJ
P.S: She promised she’d be here when I get home. Super promised, at that. Whatever that means. Maybe some distance will help me figure all this weird shit in my brain out, but mark my words, journal, I will come home to her.
Remus closed his journal and stood from his chair to place it on the shelf beside his desk, then stretched his arms over his head and yawned. His eyes caught on the area of the bookshelf right there in the center where he’d… fuck.
It was as if he could still feel her in his hands, still taste her on his tongue. The little gasp she’d made when he’d rolled his hips and – nope.
He most certainly could not go down that road right now. He shook his head and crossed the room, grabbing an old duffel bag out from where he’d shoved it under the bed and began to pack as he ran through his plan in his head.
There was a known pack up north, deep within Kielder Forest in Northumberland that had been rumored to be more receptive to newcomers than most, though coming in as someone new wouldn’t be without its challenges, regardless. He had tried to explain to Dumbledore that going so close to the full moon was a poor choice, but Albus had been convinced that, given the weakened state werewolves would be in after the transition, it would be easier for Remus to ingratiate himself with them while their defenses were down.
Remus had tried to argue, but he’d never quite been the best at speaking up. It wasn’t that he didn’t have opinions, feelings, ideas, what have you. He just never found himself capable of letting go of the fear of being seen as an aggressor. So, as with most things, he had simply nodded his head and complied. Dumbledore wouldn’t have understood, anyway, if he’d explained that being in said weakened states would only serve to make a werewolf even more defensive than usual. The point was moot, as it were. The mission had been given and it was his to undertake.
He zipped up the duffel and then glanced back toward his chest of drawers, uttering a low “ffycin duwiau. (fucking gods)” under his breath before he walked back over, opened the top drawer, and pulled out the jumper he’d nicked from Hermione, because he was a pathetic bastard who was very clearly losing his mind, but sod it all, he just needed to take it with him.
NOT to wank on.
Lily was wrong, though he was sure he would never live her assumption down. To be fair, he may have wanked while he smelled it, and that may have happened an innumerable amount of times, but he didn’t wank on the jumper, it was simply… in his hands, and near his face, but never down there.
He was not a jumper wanker.
He just… liked her scent.
A lot.
After he deposited the jumper in his bag, he zipped it up and sat down to lace up his boots, his eyes darting back to the bookcase. He couldn’t leave her without a word. Perhaps he should have just let their goodbye earlier speak for itself, but it hardly felt as if it were enough. He doubted anything short of everything would be where she was concerned, but at the least, he could leave her with a goodbye that she could hold on to.
Remus moved back toward the desk and lit a cigarette as he sat back down, steeling his resolve. One letter. He could do this.
“Just be fucking normal about it, idiot.” He mumbled to himself.
Hermione,
The idea of people learning the truth of what I am has always terrified me. The others can tell you, but suffice it to say, I’ve a history of handling it poorly it when people do find out. Tonight was different.
Thank you for taking one of my biggest fears and turning it into a good experience. There is no way I could put how much it means to me into words if I tried – and believe me, I have tried. I’m unsure if you can understand the impact of the way you handled things but, just – thank you. I’ve always been afraid that once people knew, they’d only see the wolf.
I rather like that you still see me.
I’ll be gone by the time you and Sirius wake up, but I wanted to make sure you knew you’re welcome to anything on my bookshelves – though I’m sure you would have given in to temptation and helped yourself anyway.
You lot take care of each other while I’m gone, yeah? I’ll be home soon.
Super promise.
-Remus
P.S – I think you were right, because I haven’t even left yet, and I’m already positive that you are, in fact, quite missable.
Remus paused with his hand on the doorknob and listened intently to the sound of Hermione’s steady, slumbered breathing for a moment before he slowly turned the knob and stepped inside the darkened room. Setting his bag down on the floor near the food of the bed, he stepped up to the little white bedside table and watched her chest rise and fall steadily for a few beats before he sat the letter down on top of the copy of Interview with the Vampire - some book by a newer muggle author she’d been so excited to pick up last week.
He turned back around, determined to leave, but couldn’t resist another glance down at her. Gods, she was beautiful, curled up on her side with her left hand tucked under her face, riotous hair spilling across her cheek and all over the pillow. Her tan skin nearly glowed in the soft rays of moonlight peeking out from under the curtain over her bed, and she looked so bloody peaceful in her slumber that he had to fight the urge to ward the door and just keep her here, exactly like this. Safe and sound, comfortable and blissfully unaware of the danger around her.
He scanned her face, mapping every detail as he tried to commit the entirety of her to memory, before he trailed his eyes down to her arm, where that damn scar was on full display. She tended to keep it hidden, wearing jumpers or long sleeves nearly every day. He understood why, of course, but he still hated that she felt the need to hide any part of herself.
This scar, though inarguably the worst, was hardly her only. He’d noticed the end of a raised white scar on her stomach when she’d been dancing one night, a smattering of burns on the back of her right hand, far too many little ones to count on her legs and arms. There was one on her neck that was a few centimetres long, a little slice through her right eyebrow and one on her left cheek, and some markings on her right shoulder and upper arm that looked as if she’d had a particularly bad case of gravel rash.
It was as if she had been through hell. Yet she was still here. And still perfect.
His little survivor.
Gods. His. His. He’d tried – truly, he had, to stop thinking of her as such, to shake this feeling of possession when it came to her, to remind himself that nobody owned her but herself and not to be mistaken, that was absolutely true. He certainly didn’t own her, nor did he want to. He just wanted to… possess her. It was nonsensical, but it was.
Glancing back up to her face to find her still fast asleep, he crouched down next to the bed, bringing him face to face with her forearm. He’d gotten a glimpse of the scar a few times, but hadn’t seen it up close, and it was even more horrid than he’d thought. The lettering started a bit higher up on her arm and slanted downward and was still a pink-ish red in colour, despite having been healed. A cursed blade, she’d said.
He leaned in a bit closer – grateful for those lupine senses, as there would have barely been enough light to see otherwise – and inspected the smaller marks surrounding the larger scar. The little ridges over and around the letter 'u' and the first 'o' were different. Whereas the rest of the scar was red, these little marks were white, but almost held a silver hue. It was uneven, with around five little marks near the o and three near the u, but the small ridges nearly made it look as if something had bitten her.
Curiously, he brought his hand up and lightly trailed a finger over one of the little lines. Hermione whimpered in her sleep, and he felt a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock -whether from merely touching her skin or from the sound of her moaning, he couldn’t be sure, but gods, she was unbearable.
Reluctantly, he pulled away and rose back to his feet. Unable to resist, he leaned down and softly brushed the hair from her face, then pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, allowing himself to linger for the briefest of moments as he drew in her scent one last time before he left.
10th August, 2024
“Well, he’s just a pup, ain’t he?” The tall, bearded man asked as he looked over at the woman next to him.
“How old’re ye, pup?”
“Eighteen, sir.”
“Aye. You did alright for the moon last night. But we’ve got things to protect here. We’re fine to let someone pop by and go through the full with the pack here and there, but the boys tell me you’re hoping to stay a bit?”
“Yes, I was hoping that I could, for a little while.”
The man nodded and pulled out a chair at the little folding table Remus was sitting at, tucked in to a back corner of one of the many magically expanded tents he’d passed on his way in.
“Names Gibson.” he said as he extended a hand to shake. “This is Shawna, my mate. Alpha and Luna, to most here, though since you aren’t pack, we won’t hold you to the titles for now.”
“Remus. Remus Lupin.” Remus responded as he shook Gibson – the Alpha’s hand. That would take some getting used to. Whether it was to his benefit or to his detriment, he couldn’t be sure, but he had been raised so far removed from werewolf culture that he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around it all.
He knew the basics – the Alpha led the pack, the Luna was the Alpha’s partner, and so on. A lot of it seemed rather animalistic. Children were ‘pups’ and apparently wives, or whatever their equivalent of that was, were mates, their encampment was a den, and so on and so forth. He really should have brought his journal, if only to make a list of all the things he’d need to keep straight, but he’d wanted to be able to be all-in on this, so, here he was.
“No way,” A loud voice laughed out. “Your name is REMUS LUPIN, and you’re a werewolf? They may as well have named you Werewolf McWerewolf. Is your middle name ‘Lycan?’ ”
Remus laughed and glanced through the doorway to see a lad about his age sitting on a couch in one of the side rooms of the tent with a little girl of about three or four sat in his lap as she looked at a picture book upside down.
“Well, my friends call me Moony, though now I fear it falls short.”
“Ford, can you get Athena settled for her nap and then come chat?” The woman – Shawna – called out.
“Sure thing, Mom.”
“So those are both your… pups?” Remus asked.
“Pups, yes. Kids, Children. We’re human too, it’s all interchangeable.” Gibson explained. “You don’t uh… know much about this, do you, Remus?”
Remus cast his eyes down to his hands in his lap and toyed with the cuff of his jumper, then shook his head.
“No, I can’t say that I do. I’ve never actually met any other werewolves before last night, save for the one who turned me, I suppose. Thought I was only four when that happened, so it wasn’t much of a meeting.”
“Four?” Shawna gasped and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Oh, you poor thing. Not much older than our Teeny, I just can’t imagine.”
“S’alright. My, um… my dad worked for the ministry and had some biased views against werewolves. He said the wrong thing about the wrong one at a Wizengamot hearing one day and…” Remus gestured to the scars on his face by way of explanation.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Sins of the father…” Gibson trailed off and looked over to Shawna, a wordless conversation seeming to flow between them before she nodded.
“So, now you’re here.” Gibson prompted.
“Now I’m here. I finished school in June and have been living with a friend and his sister in London, but there’s so much going on in the wizarding world and I’m out on my own for the first time, and I’ve just been itching to… I suppose discover is the right word. What I know about myself I learned from a prejudice father, a muggle Mam, and three books in the Hogwarts library – one of which reported that werewolves keep their tails even while in their human form.”
Gibson laughed and shook his head, then slapped his hands on his knees and rose from his chair.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, Remus, so long as you’re willing to follow the rules. There’s a lot to learn, but Ford here…” he gestured to where the other had reentered the room. “He comes and goes but should be here a few more days.”
“You mind getting him settled in, pup?”
“I can do that, Gibs.” Ford nodded, then turned to Shawna. “I got Teeny down, but apparently I didn’t do the rabbit voice right, so…”
“So, I better go fix your grave mistake before she wakes the baby.” Shawna laughed, then leaned in and kissed Ford on the cheek. “Love you, son. Don’t be too hard on the new kid. And Remus, it was lovely to meet you. The younger ones get restless around the moon, but we’ll have to introduce you to everyone a bit better in a few days.”
“Thank you.” Remus said with a nod as he stood and picked up his duffle, then turned to Gibson and offered his thanks, earning a nod in return.
“Alright, new guy.” Ford said with a grin. “You’ll be bunking with me and some of the other single guys, let’s go get you settled, Wolfard St. Wolfington.”
“The name thing is going to become a… thing, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely.”
23rd August 1978
Remus sat around a campfire with Ford and a few of the other younger men as he watched people move about the expansive clearing. There was a group of kids – pups, he corrected himself – kicking a ball around, some toddlers running while their parents either watched on or gave chase, a few people lounging about on different chairs or benches reading, talking or writing.
Directly to his right, a group of girls who looked to be around the age he’d been in his first or second year at school had set up a table and some folding chairs and were busy making colorful beaded bracelets.
The entire area was alive with activity, and it was mind-blowing, how they all just… lived and existed so freely. Remus wasn’t very sure that he liked the idea of this much freedom, were he honest with himself. He loved a bit of fun, but equally appreciated structure and routine. Still, it was nice to see.
Being here hadn’t been as terrifying as he had thought it would be. He’d primarily kept to himself. According to Ford - who he had learned was the son of Shawna, from her first marriage, and the stepson of Gibs, the Alpha – it was customary for a new member to remain fairly isolated through the first full lunar cycle, for a couple of different reasons.
There were a number of archaic customs that the pack held dear, solely for traditions sake, even though much of the initial belief in the old ways had died out. This custom, in specific, called for a new member of the pack to be assigned a guide, and to interact with a select few people from one full moon through the next.
Should they still wish to remain with the pack, and should they make it through a full path of the moon without the Alpha sensing that they have harmful intentions, then it would be known that their presence was blessed by the moon goddess, and they would be allowed to be fully integrated. It all seemed a bit on the silly side, but Remus had always held a fondness for the olde magicks, archaic rituals and rites and the like, so it was intriguing to see some archaism in action.
In his case, he pretty well kept with the guys he bunked with and had been assigned to Otto as his guide – Ford, Alaric, and Todd, one of the other single guys who shared the same expanded tent as him, all came and went quite a bit. It seemed that some people were pack, some were connected through family, such as Ford and Todd, and some were just trusted wanderers that came through once in a while.
It was all the same, really. Having the time to just sit back and people…er, werewolf-watch, as it were, would only help him get the information he needed for the Order, and he never minded an excuse to read books and not talk to people. Those were two of his favorite things.
“Alright there, Wolfgang Moonzart?” Ford asked.
Remus sighed and let out a bit of a laugh, then shook his head as he brought his cigarette to his mouth and took a drag.
“Not too bad, Chevy.” He nodded his head toward where the kids were playing and then looked back at Ford.
“I had no idea there were so many pups, when I first arrived.”
“Yep. Couple dozen, give or take, though there’s a good distribution age wise so it seems less daunting. They aren’t as energetic for the few days after the full.”
“Are they, uh…”
“Wolfy?” Ford asked with a laugh. “Nope. I’m not either.”
“You’re not?” Remus sat up straighter and looked over at Ford, cocking his head as he assessed him and sniffed the air between them. “You don’t smell human.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Ford laughed. “Gods, you really don’t know how any of this works, do you?”
“Save for the actual turning-into-a-wolf bit, no.”
“Well, you’re lucky you have me, Wolf Wolfman.”
Remus furrowed his brow.
“Oh, come on! Walt Whitman.”
“That’s a stretch.”
“Yeah, well… you’re a stretch.”
“I’m wounded, Bentley.” Remus laughed. “So, all these kids – pups, rather, aren’t werewolves? It’s not, um… well I suppose I just always assumed it would be passed on, genetically.”
“Nope. Well, it can be its…” Ford started, then trailed off for a moment as if he were considering his words carefully.
“Okay, so, two werewolves, in their wolf form, on the full moon equals werewolf babies. That's extremely rare, not really something anyone actually wants to do, and the children don’t present as wolves until puberty. There's only been one that most of us around here have ever met. Other than that, pups are normal kids, for all intents and purposes, they just tend to be a little more connected to the lunar cycle. For me, I have all the heightened senses, like my meat extra rare, and I get a bit crazy if I don’t spend a lot of time outdoors.”
“As for why you won’t see pups around much, the moon affects them the worst when they’re young. It’s nothing unbearable, they’re actually far less fussy than most children, generally, because of the pack mentality. There are always a dozen pairs of hands ready to hold a new pup.” Ford continued with a laugh.
“I always get really amped up for the full and really tired right after. It’s the same for the young, just a little more intense. They’ll be wired all night and then sleep for like twenty hours straight. Other than that, you couldn’t tell they were any different.”
“That’s actually…brilliant.” Remus said incredulously. “As I said. I assumed it would be genetic, I never even considered that someone like me could…”
“Like us. Well, I suppose you’re worse off than me, but it’s all the same. But yes, you can absolutely have pups someday, if that’s what you’re in to.”
“Oh, Godric,” Remus laughed and shook his head, “I’m far from worrying about any of that.”
“You say that now. Just wait until you meet the one.” Ford said, the last two words coming out high pitched and sing-songy.
Remus glanced away quickly, in an attempt to hide the blush that spread across his cheeks – because of course he was blushing, having already established how pathetic he was – but it must not have been quick enough.
“Ohhh. Wait. What’s that face? You already got someone waiting at home, hmm? What’s her name? Or his, we don’t judge out here.”
Remus chewed on his lip as he watched a handful of pups darting around a big tree on the edge of the clearing as they chased one another. It was nice out here. Idyllic. Though he missed the peace of being home.
Missed her, fiercely. It was both a blessing and a curse. He felt a constant ache in his stomach, that godsdamned stupid sense of supposed to because he was supposed to keep her close and he was supposed to be near her scent, and he was supposed to and supposed to and supposed to.
All the supposed to-s aside, he truly did just genuinely miss her. He missed seeing her face light up when he’d set her cuppa down in front of her in the mornings. Missed watching her hum to herself as she cleaned up the flat or busied herself in the kitchen. Missed watching the way her face would morph and change with nearly every line as she read her books in the evening, as if she were fully immersed in whatever tale was being spun between the pages in her hands.
He missed her and missed her and missed her and he was supposed to and supposed to and supposed to.
Nevertheless, it had been a bit of a reprieve that he couldn’t deny he was thankful for. He could think more clearly without her around. His teeth didn’t ache, his focus wasn’t as… singular as it had become. He could think of her, without her scent hanging in the air or the lure of her laying in her bed directly across the hall from his own and not feel as if he was crawling out of his skin.
It was a relief, to feel even just a little less desperate over her.
He hated it.
He looked back at Ford and considered his words carefully – given the ‘I’m actually on a secret mission for the Order of the Phoenix’ of it all.
“Carina.” He said with a soft smile, though the name felt wrong on his tongue. Sure, yes, whatever, it was her given name, but she was his Hermione. It wouldn’t do to start revealing identities of the people he needed to protect, though, not when he still had a ways to go to figure out where the allegiances of the pack lay – especially with people like Ford and Alaric who came and went as they did.
“Cariiinnaaa,” Ford drew out in a teasing tone. “Look at you, Wolfbert Von Wolferstein, all starry eyed. She the big deal, then?”
“She’s… something else. It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always? Is she foxy?”
Remus laughed and shook his head, then nodded.
“Yeah. She’s gorgeous. And my best friend’s sister. We’re not, erm… together, we’ve just had a few…moments.”
“Best friend’s sister, you dog.” Ford teased, nudging Remus with his shoulder. “Moments, huh? I thought from the look on your face you were going to say she was your - ”
“Ford!” Shawna called out from across the clearing, beckoning him over with a wave of her hand.
“Well, shit. When the mother calls.” He rolled his eyes dramatically and clapped Remus on the shoulder.
“I’m heading out for a bit again tonight, but Todd should be here if you need anything.”
“Happy trails, Pontiac.”
“Happy tails, Moonrocks.” Ford said, giving him a little mock salute.