Whimsical nature
'' Care to explain what happened there?'' The first to break the silence was, unsurprisingly, Sirius. He had always been impatient, insisting on how useless patience could be. In his defence, he sat still for five painful minutes while waiting for an explanation that never came. That, for him, was patient enough.
It's not that James was any less worried, the sight of his friend's gold eyes was always an indication of something shifting, a different presence between them. Remus had always been careful enough to keep the wolf on a leash, close but tightened, never too far, never out of his reach. Balance was a delicate thing and somehow the werewolf was able to master the dualism between men and animal. Still, his eyes were gleaming in their peculiar yellowish colour, drinking from the image of that anonymous woman as if he could feed his soul only by looking at her side profile.
His mind was playing tricks on him. He was sure of it. Remus tried any calming technic, from counting to reciting, from repeating to blanking, but none of them worked. Her face seemed to be stained on his conscience, a constant reminder that there was something more frighteningly beautiful than the new year's full moon. He didn't even attempt to dart the room, still, quiet, fixated on a minuscule hole in the seat. He dug with his finger anxiously, enlarging the crack till his whole digit could creep inside the material. Wishing that he could, as well, hide inside the leather of the bench.
''Remus. Moony. Could you, please...tell us? We are worried, man. You haven't looked so out of yourself in a while, do you know her? From...that time.'' It did not need to be explained, they all knew what period he was referring to. The immediate after, the months that followed the end of the war. The self-deprecating spiral he fell in, knowingly, searching for the agony he deserved to feel. He was the one who should have perished, not them. He was the one who did not have a future, hopes, or love. He was the one cursed from the very first moment, if destiny needed to pick a winner, should have been him. Took him long enough to answer, even after the few high-voiced complaints from the raggedy dog, the werewolf was struggling to find his voice. Again, Remus was afraid. Funny how he seems to be the only monster who spends his life being frightened.
'' I'm not sure. I don't quite know what to say.'' The frustration had him by the neck, tightening his throat, and for that, only a thread of voice could come out. Fidgeting his fingers still along the seat, tried again. ''I don't know her, that's for sure. I would remember. It was like...like the moon suddenly was ripped from any light and magnetism, for she had stolen it. Like my gravity shifted around her, like she holds the sky and its stars on her shoulders, solely for her p-...I don't know what I'm saying, please don't make me talk.'' Tried to hide the redness of his face between his palms, he felt feverish. Perhaps it was a cold, a virus, or maybe he was delusional. The silence only added more weight on his back, crouching his shoulders for it was too much to bear.
Again, the one who broke the quietness was the loud dog, grinning, unable to contain the laughter that filled the compartment. Seemingly, the two of them were not able to understand the reason behind the maniac laughter coming from the Black brother, having as a result an even more mortified Remus Lupin. Then, there was only one who was yet to understand and no surprise at all, it was James.
''Seriously, James?''
''Seriously, Sirius''.
'' You have Moony spilling the beans, being cheesy and loony, and have no idea? You're utterly clueless, James Fleamont Potter.''
'' I will take it as a compliment, Pads, BUT CARE TO EXPLAIN?'' A few seconds were given, for the werewolf to make the decision to speak himself or allow his dog counterpart to do the hard work of lightening the bulb in his friend's head. There were many days to be brave and Remus seemed to think that today was not one of them.
'' Do you remember the ridiculous class where we had to enumerate characteristics from werewolves? Well, one of them was quite curious. I remember mocking Remus during our fifth year that it was gonna happen with Myrtle, that she was probably his moon.''
There was a deviation in the air, a sudden change that came with realization. The word held too much meaning in such a little mouth, it sounded as such. A mouthful word that should not be pronounced, should not be said out loud in order to keep its sacredness. The moon was made to be adored, consecrated, and enthroned, not name-called by mere mortals.
'' You're implying that she was...Moony's moon? That sounds weird. It gave me the heebie-jeebies.'' A fake shudder tried to vanish the conflicted grin on Remus' face, but sadly, James was not successful.
'' But that's bloody great! You're finally gonna shag, Moony, I'm so proud of you!'' Sirius chanted.
'' No.'' His voice came as a roar, much different than the slight tremorous tone. Even though the 6-foot-tall man was still curled into a mess of panic and remorse, his words showed no hesitation. They came from deep within, the corners of his conscience that spoke from what was right to him. And if one thing was true, is that Remus Lupin always tried to follow his moral compass, as outdated as it could be. ''I cannot do such a thing. I cannot have it. I cannot condemn an innocent woman to a life of suffering and degradation. I am no man.'' He knew that it was a possibility. All werewolves knew it, most of them searched for it in an attempt to palliate their personal tragedies, a flicker of hope being given to shameful beasts. Ironic. The promise of feeling human, of feeling loved. He remembered that DADA class, and how the idea repulsed him, having an unavoidable instinct that would pull him towards a person. A moon was, essentially, the soul and heart of the wolf. It could be anyone, it could be anywhere, and all it takes is just one look. There was no study case that was able to explain the lengths of the connexion between the moon and its wolf, being a creature was heinous enough, and sharing details was not on the table. What he did know was that the attraction would drive the werewolf mad, taking away his self-control if not relent to the moon's presence. It was her or sickness, her or demise. He noticed, a while ago, that unsettled hunger. There was something in him, unknown and hidden, something he was not aching to discover. God knows he spent almost all his youth trying to contain the hunting essence that tried to take away his common sense. In the full moon, it almost slipped away from his fingers. Each time, he felt the menace. He feared it. The beast was not a friendly presence, it was a disease, contagious. And if that wasn't enough, his nature once again proved to be whimsical and wilful, but he was not just any werewolf. And he was not the one to succumb to the wills of inevitability. ''I don't care, truly, about discussing this. It is of no use, I will not see her again, she's probably escorting her children and luckily, I will not need to see her again. I am a self-centred professor, that is my life, I have no prospect of a future if I mess up this opportunity, this is my first and last chance. It was hard enough to be redeemed for the job despite my condition, I don't need her, complicate her life or mine for that is worth, none of us have the need for that. We have bigger problems so, I don't wanna hear about any of this again. Not now. Nor ever.''
'' Don't be ridiculous, Remus, are you even hearing yourself? You keep talking batshit about yourself as if you were any less than us.'' Sirius bit back, again, no surprise at all.
'' Don't piss me off, Sirius. We have better things to discuss or am I the only one who remembers why you are actually in this compartment? Are we gonna address my stupid wolf situation instead of talking about the break? How did three well-known death eaters escape Azkaban without outside help? Why are we back again to score one, searching for traitors under every roof? What's going on?''
'' Don't pull up this crap to deviate the conversation, we're talking about you! How mental have you become since the war? I don't even know where your heart is these days!''
'' Enough'' was the only answer offered by Remus. Then, there was no conversation anymore, no argument, no duel. Quietude, an iron curtain between them. Usually, his friends would keep pestering him about his choice of words or his negative take on the topic, insisting on the prospect of a happier, silver-lining life. They always preached about a possible happy ending for him, a kind-hearted person who would take care of every drop of blood leaking from his unclosed scars, mending instead of tearing. Teaching him to take the place needed and not feel guilty for occupying ''too much space'', ''too much time'', ''too much effort''. Bitterly, the werewolf allowed the odds to scaping from his fingertips, not even reaching his hand towards the one destined for him.
And yet, nobody spoke. In all their years together, if James and Sirius learned one thing about the wolf, was to notice when a sore spot was itching.