Belle
“Mama?” my tiny voice trembles as I call out for her. The hallway is dark and quiet as I make my way toward the dimly lit sunroom at the end of the hall. Moonlight shines in through the window panes and illuminates the room, casting long shadows in the background. It has been a hot day and the heat lingers in the room, making it feel as though I am walking through a jungle. I pause at the door and peer out at the empty field that surrounds our small cottage.
“Mama? Papa?” I call out again. When the world returns only silence, I push open the feather-light door and enter the night. The air is cooler than inside and a shiver runs down my spine as a breeze tickles my bare shoulders. A few hundred feet away I see my Papa. He looks to be skipping and I want to be skipping with him. I run to him but stop as I see something I wish I hadn’t; my papa is covered in blood. He’s skipping strangely and almost lopsidedly. As he gets closer I realize in horror that it’s because he’s missing an arm. Behind him, a giant dog stands with light scruffy fur and a wet muzzle. It stands with my papa’s missing arm in its mouth for a moment then drops it as another giant dog comes to stand next to them.
“Go back inside the house, Isabella! Go, now!” My papa yells frantically and it scares me out of my catatonic fear. I run back to the house and wait for Papa behind our sun-bleached couch. I wait and wait until I hear a rustle at the door then a loud thud. Suddenly, a howl rips through the silence and I hear feet running away.
I shoot straight up in bed and let out a strangled wail as I gasp for air. The tears spill over my eyes and I cry but only briefly. Then I wait until the sun comes up, bathes the room in light, and chases away the dark and the nightmare.
***
I hum a soft lullaby as I get ready for the day, not because I’m particularly happy or excited but because I felt uncomfortable being alone with myself after my nightmare. I stopped having nightmares ages ago but it seems that the return of my mum and the extra stress of keeping secrets from all of my friends has affected me more than I noticed. Lately, I’ve been feeling like a powder keg ready to explode, like any little thing might set me off.
I fashion my hair into a ponytail with several black and silver ribbons tied throughout. I know that I need to keep myself busy today or the anticipation of what tonight might bring will give me away to my friends. I just don’t know what could possibly tear my attention away from overthinking every possibility of how this meeting might go.
I enter the common room and see a foot hanging over the top of the couch closest to the fireplace. When I take a closer look, I see that Sirius has thrown himself over the couch and is snoring softly. Suddenly, I hatch an idea. With a flick of my wand, I conjure a pen and begin doodling all over his face and chest. After I feel quite satisfied with the evil mustache on his face, puffskein on his chest, golden snitch on his stomach, and niffler peeking out of his trousers, I sign the work with ‘Property of James Potter.’ Finally, I shout,
“There’s a woman with her top off!” Sirius startles out of his sleep and mumbles, “Where?”
I laugh and he gives me a glare. He grumbles something about being deprived of his beauty sleep and drags himself back up to bed, passing Remus on the way up. Sirius doesn’t spare him a glance but Remus looks him up and down then looks back at me. I’m startled by the eye contact we make and try not to dwell on the unnerving feeling that accompanies the seemingly small interaction. I shrug and offer a small smile despite the awkward, tight feeling in my chest. I’m probably just feeling strange after I experienced the insane urge to kiss him by the fountain yesterday. What is wrong with me? For Merlin’s sake, this man has been torturing me all year, yet I find myself longing to be held and caressed by him.
After I excused myself last night, the ever-present ache between my legs returned and I succumbed to the fire burning under my skin. I wrapped myself in his scarf, that is currently hidden inside my pillowcase, and let my hands wander down my body, over my breasts, and in between my thighs. The dirty things he whispered to me all those weeks ago echoed in my mind like a symphony. I imagined Remus’ tongue massaging my clit instead of my hand. I wanted to run my hands through his sandy blond hair and tug him closer. He’d pull back gasping for air just for a moment and then dive back in until I was teetering on the edge and begging for release. I know that Remus would spend hours teasing me and while I long for whatever sweet torturous torment he would have planned for me, I didn’t have the willpower to edge myself for long. I threw my head back at the peak of my pleasure and groaned his name, all the while longing for his lips against mine. In the brief moments before I fell asleep, I imagined a world where he longed for me the same way I had come to long for him.
This morning as I watch a messy-haired Remus approach the couch I currently occupy, I reflect on all the ways he makes me feel. Initially, I had only seen him as an academic rival. He was a massive know-it-all but this also made him the most enjoyable person to engage in heated debate with. Sometimes I think he plays Devil’s Advocate just to see me get all flustered and angry.
I never used to think of him favorably, except for the occasional fleeting thought about how expressive his eyes would become when we argued or how his hair would wisp around his head when we all hung outside on a windy day or how he always smelled of sweet chocolate and incense. The day I noticed his mouth and just how kissable it is just so happened to be the day I walked in on him snogging the first of a long list of girls pining for his unattainable affections. It made me so uncomfortable because after that all I could think about for months was what it would feel like to be entirely captured by that sinful mouth and whether or not he would taste as good as he smelled. I’ve been in denial for a long time, and while I had managed to fool myself into thinking that my mild-dislike or respectful hatred were the only feelings I harbored for him, I can no longer deny this to myself. In some sick and twisted corner of my brain, I want Remus Lupin to be mine and equally as disturbing, I want to be his.
Remus sits down on the couch closest to me and to my surprise, he doesn’t take the furthest seat away from me. He nods at me and says,
“You look pretty exhausted. Couldn’t sleep?” I scoff at his blunt questioning so early in the morning.
“Fuck off, Lupin. I’ll be fine after a coffee.” I try to spit back but I can hear the exhaustion in my own voice and I know that I’m hardly menacing at the moment. I try to read his expression as I break at least one of his stupid rules. He raises his eyebrows then cocks his head to the side with a glint of annoyance in his dark green eyes.
“I’ll let that slide this time, since you’ve clearly had a rough night, but I’ll let you in on a secret: most nights are rough for me. Don’t push your luck, B.”
I sigh and nod feeling so confused and overwhelmed that I would probably agree to just about anything. I sit in the silence for a few stubborn minutes, then my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Most nights are rough for you?” It sounds like a statement and in some ways it is. I shoot a questioning look at him and he’s studying me like I’m the world’s toughest arithmancy problem. Eventually, he nods,
“Yeah, Muggles call it insom–”
“I know what insomnia is, thanks. And that’s why your nights are rough? Just insomnia?” I interrupt, matter-of-factly.
The doctors who examined me after the incident warned my Auntie that I might struggle with insomnia after the attack on my father, so I’m intimately familiar with it. When I found myself unable to sleep, I would read. Even though it is frustrating not being able to fall asleep, I would hardly classify those nights as rough. Remus chuckles and my chest dips in my chest as though it’s attempting its own version of a Wronski Feint. He stands to his full height and takes a step toward the exit.
“W-Where are you going?” I ask, unsure that I even want to know. He turns back toward me, leaning against a table and motions for me to go through the exit.
“We’re going to get you some coffee and breakfast.”
He’s not smiling but his tone of voice is amused and his eyes sparkle with sincerity. It’s an odd change from his usual mood and I’m skeptical about the motive behind his mood swing. He’s probably trying to butter me up for tonight. But I am in desperate need of coffee, so I stand and walk out of the common room with Remus following behind me.
We walk in silence through the mostly empty hallways. I steal little peeks at Remus who has slowed his usual long strides to keep pace with me. I’ve never walked down the hallways with just Remus and it’s strange how normal it feels. We pass by a group of Ravenclaw girls and they swoon, “Hi Remus.”
I scrunch up my nose and gape up at Remus as he nods politely but doesn’t respond.
“Are you feeling alright?” I ask carefully. The Remus from a week ago would’ve told me to fuck off and went to have an impromptu snogging session. He glances down at me and even though I stand at 175 centimeters it makes me feel small.
“I feel fine, why do you ask?”
“Well for starters, you’re walking with me willingly. Not to mention, you’ve just passed by 4 potential makeout partners to continue escorting me to breakfast.”
“Would you rather I leave you alone?” Now he’s asking me for my opinion? I stop walking and stare after him. He turns and looks at me exasperated, “Well…?”
I furrow my eyebrows and shake my head in an effort to wake up. I must still be dreaming because this is the strangest day of my life. When I see that he’s still waiting for my answer, I stumble forward and murmur, “No, I suppose not.”
When we enter the Great Hall, it’s empty of people. The tables are only half set with food but still there’s enough to feed a small army. The Christmas decorations are beautiful; the ceiling is enchanted to look like a silvery, snowy morning, there are wreaths and garlands hanging from each wall, and of course, there are several glittering Christmas trees decorating the hall. The decorations make my heart swell with happiness and tinge of sadness. I shove that complicated sadness to the side as I take a seat at the table and am again surprised when instead of sitting across from me, Remus takes a seat next to me.
I shift my body to face him and watch as he picks up a cup and begins mixing coffee, milk, and a drizzle of maple syrup.
“How do you know how I take my coffee? I don’t even drink it that often,” I ponder in amazement as he slides the cup toward me. He shrugs and picks up a couple of slices of toast and says, “I just do.”
I sip the coffee and my jaw tightens as the subtle sweetness from the maple syrup explodes over my dry tongue. It’s absolutely perfect and I’m suddenly very self-conscious that this entire morning I’ve been a bit of a terror and Remus has been nothing but kind.
“Hey– um, thank you for,” I trail off as he slides a piece of buttered toast with jam my way then locks eyes with me for the second time this morning. I can feel my cheeks heating so I look away to try and preserve my dignity. I can feel the smugness in his voice when he presses,
“Thank you for what?” I sigh and try to will my reddened cheeks to return to normal. I fail miserably.
“I don’t know–I guess for not being a total jerk this morning?” I smirk at him, hoping that my attempt at confidence reads as actual confidence. He smirks into his cup of tea,
“I’ve been known to be nice every now and again.”
This time I laugh genuinely, “Not to me.”
“I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for my affections, B. I’ll consider it if you ask nicely,” He says and reaches a hand over to pat the top of mine. I yank my hand away and sneer back,
“In your dreams, Lupin.”
Slowly, he reaches up and yanks my head closer by the base of my ponytail. My neck strains and I let out a small gasp when he leans down to whisper, “You’ve been a nuisance in my dreams for years, B. Now, what did I tell you about calling me by my surname?”
“You asked me not to–” I say softly, as the warmth ignites in my stomach and flutters through my body like a swarm of butterflies.
“No, I told you, you were not to call me that,” he corrects with a voice that dominates and demands to be listened to. “I told you, you’d be punished if you did it again. You’ve done it twice now this morning. Do you want to be punished? Because nothing would make me happier than bending you over this table and spanking you ‘til you can’t sit for a week.”
My eyes flutter closed as his words tickle my neck. I’ve never, ever thought about being spanked before, let alone in a place as public as the dining hall. So why am I clenching my thighs together in need? This only confirms what I suspected to be true: there’s something deep inside me that’s filthy and desperate for whatever depravity he has in mind for me. And fuck do I feel helpless to control this emotion.
He softly bites my pulse point; the feeling is so sensual that I let out a soft moan and begin to tremble. He chuckles, “My dirty fucking girl. You’ve been provoking me on purpose.”
It’s not a question, it’s an irrefutable statement. I want to argue, I want to scream if this is what you consider provocation then what the fuck has he been doing all year? Instead, all I can muster is a weak shake of my head. Remus shoves my head back in place as the Great Hall doors open up letting in a few students. My skin floods with embarrassment as it dawns on me how lascivious this entire encounter was. Had I really forgotten where I was? I hang my head in shame and gaze into the beige coffee as though it is the most interesting object in the room.
“Eat,” he shoves the plate closer to me. “We’re spending the day together. So we can be on the same page for tonight,” he tells me, nonnegotiably. Tonight? I had completely forgotten about tonight in my preoccupation with my fucked up desires.
I eat the toast in front of me as slowly as humanly possible because I didn’t really know what to say to this man I’ve known my entire life but somehow know nothing about. In fact, I find it rather unfair that Remus gets to be with me during the most vulnerable moment of my young adult life but I don’t even know his parent’s names. I slam my hands down on the table, not too hard but hard enough to capture his attention,
“Right then, if you get to come tonight–”
“I will be coming tonight.” He interrupts with that domineering voice of his.
“Fine, since you will be coming tonight, I’d like to spend the day doing something interesting. Something that levels our playing field.”
“Like….”
“Like I want to ask you some questions and I want you to answer them.”
“That’s it? You just want me to answer them?” I feel like I’m talking to a magic genie and whatever I choose there will be a twisted catch. So I ponder the question before confirming or denying anything. He’s watching me consider my options with a smug sort of amusement on his face and I start to doubt my ability to out wit hit anyways.
“Okay, I want to ask you questions but you have to answer them truthfully.”
He interrupts again, “And how would you know if I don’t?”
“Can I please finish?” I sigh, “Would that be alright with you?”
He motions for me continue, and I straighten my back to do so, “I will not know if you are lying but i expect you will not because I will give you three passes. You seem to know an awful lot about me but since I am so kind I will let you ask me questions too. I get three passes as well. The game ends when we’ve used up all of our passes. So there’s some incentive to answer questions and not pass on them. That is assuming you have questions that you want to be answered.”
I paused and waited for him to ask the next obvious question, “And if I don’t have questions to be asked?”
I smirk, “Perhaps you don’t have burning questions that need answering now; however, tonight you will be hiding while I meet with my mother, Yes? Well if you want to ask questions about tonight then I suggest you agree.”
A look of almost pride flashes across his features and I have to fight back a smile threatening grace my face. It briefly occurs to me that this win tastes different, better even. Before the win against him clouded my head and I would go hazy with triumph. Today, the feeling of persuading the most stubborn man at Hogwarts spread warmth throughout my chest and down through my fingertips.
“Alright, ask away,” he leans back on hands as he waits for my question. My eyes drag over his slacks stretched over his thighs that are now straddling the bench. The first question that pops in my head is ‘Are you doing that on purpose?’ but I think better of stroking his ego any more. I push back from the table and try my best to not look as flustered as I feel.
“Let’s go for a walk. It’ll be more private.”
He chuckles and stands up slinging his crossbody bag around his broad shoulders. I try not to focus on how he towers over me as I stride out of the hall. Although I am aware of how the few people in the hall are staring at us, I can’t bring myself to feel self-conscious. Let them stare. Even though, until very recently, Remus might’ve hated me, he is apparently very captivated by me– well my situation. And strangely, it felt really good.