Déjà Vu

I would know him from the softest sound,
His breath upon the wind, 
A single hair, a whisker-thin; a tickle on my skin,
By the pleasant padding of his paws, the quick-flick clicking of his claws, 
On soil, stone and wooden floors, as he stalks his circle deep.

His howl cracks though every bone, re-shaping me once more,
And I am hunting for my love, through well-worn tracks, paw-to-paw-to-paw,
And when we meet in the middle, the beast and the man, there is no end and no beginning, 
Only two souls, turning in a dance.  

**

Remus did not remember much about the bite itself, only the fear leading up to it. It began as a shudder, shaking him awake, and grew steadily into a fully-fledged terror as he focussed on the bright yellow eyes glowing in the dark.

He didn’t know it was a wolf then. He saw only a monster, as children often do, in the shadows of his room, and his horror mounted as the beast mounted him, and he knew that it was real.

He couldn’t say whether it was the weight of the wolf that pinned him to his bed, or his own terror, for he was paralyzed in the moments before the bite. It was only when the monster sunk his teeth deep into his arm that his fear bubbled over into hysteria and he began to scream.

The door flew open and the room burst into light, and then his mother and father were there, their screams mingling with his own, and the creature took flight, jumping back out the window.

Remus stretched out his arms to his mother and bleated out pathetically, ‘Mummy!’

His mother rushed to hug him, but his father held her back, his eyes fixed on Remus’s blood-stained sleeve.

‘No, wait!‘

His mother hesitated and then shook his father off, climbing onto the bed and gathering Remus into her arms like a baby. She didn’t seem to mind the bloody bite on his arm or the wet patch on his pyjama bottoms, all she cared about was comforting him.

‘Lyall!’ She said, through tears. ‘What do we do?!’

‘We need to get him to St. Mungo’s,’ Lyall said, voice strained, ‘Although, there’s nothing they can do if he’s been bit - ‘

‘There was a monster!’ Remus wailed. ‘A monster!’

He never actually saw the wolf. Not clearly. His eyes were on his mother when the lights came on. He only learned that it was “grey” and “mangy” later on, when his father described it to his friends from the ministry.

‘I’m sure it was him,’ he said in a choked voice. ‘That man we brought it for questioning. I knew he was a werewolf. He had the same eyes, even as a human. He was a big, scrawny grey wolf with yellow eyes. Mangy, patchy fur and a nasty scar …. ‘

Later, however, when Remus tried to recall the monster, the image of a big black wolf padded gently into his mind. As dark as if it was made of the night itself with eyes like two shining stars. He saw it jumping onto his bed, just as the grey wolf had done, but it did not snarl or bite. Instead, it simply bent down and tenderly licked his face.

The image comforted Remus, as he lay in his lumpy hospital bed in a private room at St. Mungo’s ward for Magical Injuries, and he found himself returning to the vision again and again, over the next few nights, to help himself get to sleep.

He felt very guilty about it though. He knew he shouldn’t be longing for a wolf after what a werewolf had done to him. It was as if he was trying to turn what had happened into something nice. As if he had liked it. As if he had wanted it to happen.

But the black wolf was a different creature entirely. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became. The black wolf was a good wolf, while the grey wolf had been a bad one. The black wolf would never have hurt him, the way the grey wolf had done. If only he would have come to see him now, he would have made everything better.

After the bite, he was kept away from other children. His parents were terrified they might discover his secret. They moved to a new house, far away from all the children Remus used to play with, and put bars on his bedroom window and a heavy lock on the outside of his door.

Still, Remus sat alone in his room, drawing pictures of a big black wolf, dreaming that he might one day break-in, through all the obstacles, and become his friend.

He could never tell his parents about this. He didn’t even know how he would describe his daydreams, which often felt as real as memories, and came on just as suddenly, triggered by a certain sound or even a scent.

As his transformations grew more violent, the black wolf revealed himself to be a shapeshifter like him. A type of werewolf that could change from a man to a beast at any time, and kept his mind at all times. Wishful thinking, obviously. He would have given anything to have that gift himself, especially when he came to his senses, and saw the gashes in his door and chunks of wood beneath his nails.

Gone were the days when he might be locked up with toys or food to keep his wolf-self occupied. He destroyed anything within his reach and spent the rest of his time trying to escape.

His parents always spoiled him after the full moon, buying him lots of presents as if his madness was something that they had to make up for. They wanted to encourage his creativity, buying him plenty of blank notebooks and sketch pads and fancy artists' pencils, and unbeknownst to them, he filled every page with stories about his imaginary four-footed friend.

The books piled up over the years like journals, hidden safely in a box at the back of his wardrobe. Remus only took them out, once or twice a year to re-read by torchlight.

He never intended to bring them to Hogwarts. He knew it would be too dangerous, no matter how cleverly he hid them, because if anyone saw them they would be sure to guess what drew him to the image of wolves frolicking in the moonlight.

But when it came time to pack, he found he couldn’t bear the thought of parting with his most precious memories. He needed his shadow-friend to come with him. So he put the box at the bottom of his trunk and piled all his school supplies on top, so that it couldn’t be seen. He didn’t think he would need to take the books out and look at them again, but it was reassuring to know that they were there.

**

The Sorting Hat didn’t take nearly as much time with Remus as the other first-years, which was a relief. He had been a little nervous that the hat would sort him into Slytherin, simply because he was a werewolf and that was where werewolves ought to go, although Remus himself thought he was a better fit for Ravenclaw.

The Sorting Hat, however, had other ideas. It murmured softly in his mind about a capacity for adventure, bravery, and loyalty, which he had not yet had a chance to demonstrate, before confidently placing him in,

‘GRYFFINDOR!’

Remus was surprised, but pleased, taking off the hat and carefully placing it back on the stool before walking over to the Gryffindor table. He was touched to see them all clapping and cheering for him, just as they had done for the other Gryffindor first years.

A friendly, freckled girl got up to greet him with a gentle pat on the shoulder.

‘I’m Perdita Marsh,’ she said. ‘One of your prefects.’

Remus noted the badge.

‘And over there - ‘ she pointed to a curly-haired boy at the end of the table, ‘is Gilford Falkes, your other prefect. We’re here if you need any help with anything.’

Remus started to thank Perdita but was distracted by the sound of a familiar laugh. A rough, ragged sound like the barking of a dog. He turned to see a handsome boy, two seats down, with shoulder-length black hair.

‘YOU!’ He exclaimed before he could stop himself, starting toward the boy.

The stranger turned around, one brow raised. He had a pair of clear grey eyes that sparkled with a reflection of the Great Hall’s floating candles.

‘Yes…?’ He said. ‘Do I know you?’

‘D-don’t you?’ Remus asked, struggling to recover. ‘I mean, haven’t we met before?’

The boy looked amused. ‘I don’t think so. I didn’t curse you on the train, did I?’

‘Um, no,’ Remus said. ‘Should I consider myself lucky?’

The boy shrugged. ‘A couple of people got in the way. I only meant to get that slimy git over there.’

He waved vaguely at the Slytherin table, at a boy he had apparently taken a dislike to, but Remus wasn’t much interested in that.

‘No, I meant from before Hogwarts,’ Remus said. ‘I know your face.’

It was the truth. He knew no face better, other than his own. He had seen it a thousand times, in dreams and fantasies. It was the human face of his black wolf. His imaginary friend, here in the flesh.

The boy stared hard at Remus, who waited with baited breath, but there was no recognition in those sparkling eyes.

‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’re thinking of my cousin, Arcturus.’

He pointed out another boy at the Slytherin table. A sullen, skinny boy with the same thick black hair.

‘No,’ Remus said, frowning, ‘I don’t think I could ever get the two of you mixed up.’

Sirius chuckled appreciatively. ‘I’m flattered. Everyone else says we look alike, but he’s so uptight. A prefect.’ He rolled his eyes.

‘And you prefer cursing strangers on the train,’ Remus observed dryly.

This earned him another laugh. The sound stirred the coals of Remus’s soul, warming him from within.

‘I’m Sirius,’ the boy told him, holding out his hand.

‘Remus,’ Remus said, suppressing a shiver as their hands touched. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ At last.

‘And this is James,’ Sirius said, nodding at the boy beside him. ‘James Potter, we met on the train. Why don’t you sit with us?’

‘There doesn’t seem to be space,’ Remus observed.

Sirius gave the boy on the other side of him a shove.

‘Hey, move over! My friend needs this seat!’

‘Oh! That’s okay,’ Remus said quickly. ‘You don’t have to - ‘

‘Yes, you do! Come on!’ Sirius said, tipping the chair up and throwing its occupant on the floor.

Scowling, the misplaced boy got up.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Remus said, but the boy stormed off without a word. Remus guiltily took his chair.

‘I have a feeling I’m going to be apologizing for you two a lot more in the future, if we’re gonna be friends,’ he said to Sirius.

He knew he would. He had already seen it, when Sirius tipped the little boy out of his chair. Déjà vu. Sirius shoving boys aside, throwing jinxes and hexes every which way, with the ease of a master duellist.

‘It’s likely,’ Sirius said, with a grin. ‘I’m rather …impulsive. I do a lot of things without thinking.’

‘Like cursing people you’ve just met?’ Remus supplied. ‘Or chucking people out of their chairs?’

‘Yeah, that sort of thing.’

‘And yet, you don’t seem particularly sorry about it,’ Remus commented sadly, although he could not believe that Sirius was truly cruel.

He knew, without being told, that Sirius Black was a prankster, with a tendency to take his jokes too far. The boy’s mischievous smile when he challenged him, (again, so familiar!) only confirmed this.

‘You shall need to act as our conscience,’ James said. ‘Do you think you can handle that?’

‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to get you two to listen,’ Remus said. ‘You seem pretty determined.’

‘You can always try’ James said. ‘That’s the job of a conscience: To be the annoying voice reminding us what we should do. Our job is to ignore it.’

‘A thankless job,’ Remus observed. ‘No wonder you have had so much trouble filling it. Will I be compensated at all for this service?’

Sirius leaned in close, sharp teeth flashing.

‘You shall have a lot of fun.’

And Remus knew it. He was flooded with memories of easy, happy times. Clever in-jokes and raucous laughter.

The sorting concluded and the table was filled with food. Sirius brightened at the sight of a huge dish of meat.

‘Lamb chops!’ He exclaimed with pleasure.

‘Your favourite,’ Remus recalled.

‘Yes,’ Sirius said, taking it as a question. ‘Is it obvious?’

He was already piling his plate high.

‘Er, yes,’ Remus said. ‘Are you really going to eat all that?’

‘You should have some too,’ James said. ‘You’re so skinny! You do eat meat, don’t you? You’re not one of those vegetarians?’

Remus glanced over the dished and slipped a couple of steaks onto his plate.

‘On the contrary, I hardly eat anything other than meat.’

**

The full moon came early that month, just a week into term, and Remus spent the days leading up to it nursing a secret hope that he might not be the only werewolf at Hogwarts, after all.

It seemed obvious to him that Sirius Black must be a werewolf. Why else would he have memories of him being one? So far, almost all of his predictions about Sirius had come true. The boy was left-handed and loved licorice, motorbikes, and murder mystery stories. All details that Remus, at one point or another, had written in his journals.

It would make more sense for Dumbledore to make arrangements for werewolves to attend if there were more students afflicted by the curse. Remus could never understand why he was going to so much trouble just for him.

He couldn’t understand why Dumbledore wouldn’t have told him there was another werewolf coming, unless the decision was made late. Remus’s parents had taken a great deal of convincing to allow him to come. Perhaps Sirius’s family had been even harder to persuade.

Sirius, however, did not seem concerned about the changes in the moon. He spent most of Sunday playing card games with James and reading a battered copy of In Cold Blood. He was still lounging in his chair in the Gryffindor common room when Remus got up to leave.

‘Where are you going?’ He asked. ‘I thought you were going to help with my transfiguration homework?’

‘You haven’t even started it yet,’ Remus replied.

‘That’s why I need help.’

Remus smiled. ‘I’m not feeling well. I’m going to go see Madame Pomfrey.’

‘You are looking a bit off-colour,’ James commented. ‘I mean, you’re always pale, but right now you’re whiter than snow.’

’A bit yellower than that,’ Sirius argued. ‘Lightly pissed-on snow, maybe?’ 

‘Dirty snow,’ James agreed. ‘My mother’s kitchen’s painted the exact same shade. It’s very popular.’   

‘It’s just a stomachache,’ Remus said wearily. ‘It’s been coming on all afternoon, and it’s just getting worse. Maybe it’s something I’ve eaten.’

He addressed Sirius deliberately. ‘Are you feeling alright, Sirius?’

‘Me, I’m grand,’ Sirius said, ‘but I didn’t have three helpings of steak and kidney pie. Don’t get me wrong, I’m impressed, but I’m not surprised it’s coming back to haunt you.’

Remus smiled weakly. ‘You’re right. Well, then … see you later?’

‘Yeah, don’t be too long. That essay’s three rolls of parchment!’

Remus didn’t give up hope until he met with Madame Pomfrey and she began to escort him out of the castle.

‘There’s no else coming, is there?’ He asked, dawdling on the stairs.

‘No,’ Madame Pomfrey said gently. ‘The headmaster thought it would be best if I took you by myself.’

And so he spent another full moon all by himself, tearing chunks out of the furniture and his own flesh, and when he returned Sirius was right there, waiting for him.

‘You didn’t come back,’ he said.

You didn’t leave, Remus thought.

‘No, I got really sick,’ Remus said. ‘I slept in the Hospital wing.’

Sirius was incredulous. ‘Seriously? I thought Madame Pomfrey could cure anything.’

‘Maybe I was poisoned,’ Remus said flippantly. ‘Nothing she gave me worked.’

They were alone in the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory. Sirius had apparently been having a lie-in.

‘You look awful,’ he said, sitting up in his bed.

‘Thank you, Sirius,’ Remus said. ‘I relish your compliments.’

Sirius shrugged. ‘I’m just being honest. Maybe you should lie down for a bit longer? I’m getting up now. I’ve still got an essay to write.’

‘I can help you later,’ Remus offered, although he really was very tired.

‘No, it’s okay. McGonagall needs to find out how lazy I am, sooner or later. It’s best to get it over with now so she can lower her expectations.’

He patted Remus on the shoulder as he left.

‘See you later, mate.’

Remus was alone again. He was about to head to his own bed when he saw that Sirius had left something on his bed. A baggy jumper that he liked to sleep in. 

Even from halfway across the room he could smell Sirius’s scent on it. He moved without thinking and the next thing he knew he was huddled up on Sirius’s bed, his face buried in the jumper, breathing in deep.

Sirius’s scent was even more familiar than his face; Remus would have known him from his smell alone. It was a strong, earthy smell like a tree trunk covered in moss. Bitter, yet appealing. Every time Sirius got close, he had to suppress the urge to lean in and sniff his hair, or his clothes, or his skin. He smelt so good. Like love, like comfort, like home.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’

Remus looked up, startled, and saw Sirius standing in the doorway. His grey eyes fixed on him. Remus’s stomach dropped as he realised what he was seeing. Remus Lupin, hunched over on his bed, sniffing at his jumper, like the world’s biggest creep. 

‘I came back for my jumper,’ Sirius said pointedly. ‘I didn’t realise you were … using it.’ 

Remus wanted to die.