A/N: Takes place a few months after The Adventures of Little Moony Mooncalf. Hope you don't mind that it's so short, but I guess it says all that needs to be said...
The Reason For Chocolate
The stone floor underneath his naked skin was cold as ice but it was strangely soothing too. He just lay there, unmoving, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down and the pain to subside.
The wolf was gone now. He'd left him a few minutes ago, leaving nothing but emptiness behind.
He slowly turned onto his side, curling up on the cold floor, shivering slightly. He stared into the complete darkness that enveloped him, trying to make out his surroundings. A few moments ago he – the wolf – had been able to see the wooden staircase that led a long way up, loosing itself in the dark somewhere above. He'd been able to see the uncountable gashes in the walls that looked almost like art. He'd been able to see his hands – his claws, more like it. The vicious talons that ripped his skin, the thick fur…
Now there was nothing. Emptiness. Loneliness. Darkness. Nothing.
He bit his lip to stop himself from crying. He hated self-pity. He could taste the familiar flavour of blood in his mouth. Warm and coppery. He tried to sit up but vertigo swept over him, forcing him back down.
He waited, not knowing for how long, not knowing what time it was, not knowing for sure whether he would be waiting in vain this time.
A soft creak sounded from somewhere far above and a tiny ray of light fell on his nose. He blinked, blinked away the light and the tears that welled up. How could he have thought she would abandon him?
A soft rustling of fabric next to his ear told him that she was there, kneeling down beside him. She carefully wrapped him in a thick blanket and pressed him to her chest. He could smell her. Even though the wolf was long gone, he could still smell her fear and he hated himself for it. He couldn't understand why she was still here, why she could hold him like she did now, full of love and concern. Why hadn't she left with his father months ago? Why hadn't she turned around and moved on, like he had done?
He felt himself being carefully lifted up and carried up the wooden staircase. He looked back over her shoulder, catching a last glimpse of the stony room before it vanished completely in the darkness – for now.
She put him down on the sofa cautiously and he saw the expression on her face. Behind her glasses, her eyes looked red and tired and he felt deeply ashamed, knowing that he had caused this. He tried to speak, to apologise, but his head felt as empty as his soul and no words would come.
She tended to his wounds, her fingers working quickly and softly. She spoke to him but he couldn't understand her words. Her voice was soothing and she smiled at him, full of love and a little sadness.
She left, vanishing from his range of vision. And the emptiness in his heart was replaced by panic that rushed into it like a tidal wave. He wanted to scream for her but still no words would come. Shaking violently, he tried to push himself up on his elbows to see where she had gone.
But she returned only moments later, rushing to his side as though being pulled by an invisible magnet. She held a steaming cup which she now handed over to him, supporting him as he lead the mug to his lips.
He took a small, hesitant sip of the thick, rich liquid and instantly the aching in his chest subsided, his head stopped spinning and his vision cleared. A soft and warm feeling started to spread throughout his whole body, chasing the emptiness away.
"Welcome back, Remus," his mother said, relief pouring from ever syllable as she watched her son draining his hot chocolate.