A/N: Something that had been bugging me majorly when I read Harry Potter – Remus and his chocolate obsession. Considering his status, chocolate is probably the last thing he should be eating. Here's my (slightly depressing) take on it. Unbeta'd at the moment; my friends are without internet at the moment so please forgive any mistakes. Reviews highly appreciated!
Dedicated to my dear friend, lemonbomber, who gave me the proverbial kick-in-the-butt to actually publish a fic.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but how cool would that be? Siriusly XD
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Remus Lupin hated chocolate with a passion. It was too darn sweet and melted on contact, staining his clothes a grubby brown that had to be washed out by his mother, who was something of a neat freak. She was patient, however, and always smiled at him when she came in his room to announce that dinner was ready.
Every time she came up the stairs, he had a book in his hands. Books, Remus decided, were far preferable to chocolate, as they didn't make him dirty or bullied by older students who wanted some. Books could also make him smarter, and then his parents were happy.
Remus wanted his parents to be happy.
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John Lupin was a pureblood that worked at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures – in the Werewolf Registry, to be exact. He was fairly certain in his opinions that werewolves should simply be relocated to another country, far away from humans, so that there would be no risk of further "infection" among the populace. His Muggleborn wife disagreed with his opinion, but for the most part stayed out of the topic altogether. Remus, on the other hand, was quite neutral, declaring that he was much too young to worry about anything more important than which book to read next.
There weren't many people who didn't know John Lupin's attitude towards werewolves, and, unfortunately, the werewolves were not one of them.
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Remus remembered the smell of chocolate. He'd wrinkle his nose whenever his mother made brownies for a party and hide out in the library until the sickly sweet scent had vanished.
It smelled a thousand times worse after the bite.
The first time after the full moon, his mother had baked cookies – snickerdoodles for him, and chocolate-chip for her. His father had gone to work early, claiming that he had much to do, but Remus could smell his fear even after he'd walked out the door. Even his mother smelled wrong these days – always slightly worried, slightly unhappy.
She'd given him her customary smile when she called him down, but Remus could tell. He didn't like knowing that his parents were frightened because of him, but he could vaguely remember what had happened during the full moon – he'd gone down into the cellar, fully clothed, and sat for about an hour, while every sense was on hyperalert for something he couldn't name until the pain sunk in.
He remembered screaming, and screaming even more when the howls began to come from his raw throat after what seemed like forever. His spine had given a deafening crack and he'd begun to cry from the sheer agony. Every inch of skin had needles forced through it, every bone was suddenly made of hot irons, and his blood was suddenly on the floor of the cellar instead of inside his body – that's not right, I'm bleeding, this can't be happening–
And suddenly he'd found himself on all fours, and something else was controlling his body, and he could smelltaste the bloodfearPREY:
His parents.
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Remus still loved to read. He still hated chocolate. And he was still a werewolf. It became his mantra when he began to wonder who was in his body, a sort of root to the human side of him that he was beginning to lose. In terror, he started to research werewolves, wolves, and every darn dog that he could think of.
Finally, he understood: chocolate was poisonous to canines. And that was what he was now, right? No wonder his werewolf side hated chocolate, it was deadly!
And with the single-mindedness of a child, he began to plot the werewolf's demise.
Mrs. Lupin teased her husband about eating all of the chocolate over the next few days. He'd brushed it off as her exaggerating, and no one knew about the stash in Remus' closet – as he'd expected, because Remus hated chocolate, and who would ever suspect him?
The full moon was in two nights, and Remus could already feel his senses beginning to work overtime. He'd been in for a shock when he noticed his hair had grown a centimeter after the first transformation, and the small hairs on his body had darkened as if he'd hit puberty five years early. His mother had been silenced upon seeing him the first morning after, one hand clapped over her mouth and the other clutching a blanket with white knuckles.
His beautiful brown eyes – my father's eyes, he'd known – had turned to a piercing, terrifying yellow.
His father, now working even on weekends, had yet to notice.
Remus eyed the candy with distaste. The scent would have been almost impossible to a human nose, but Remus wasn't a human anymore, and it was all he could do to keep from gagging on the spot.
Small fingers delicately unwrapped the paper, revealing a brown bar beneath. He'd decided to start out with dark chocolate, since it was slightly less sweet than its relative.
Remus broke off a corner and shoved it into his mouth, eyes watering at the taste. He tried to swallow – failed – took four difficult chews – swallowed the thing with a retch.
The aftertaste was nearly as bad. Remus scowled at the chocolate, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.
His amber eyes.
Remus froze for several moments, examining his reflection carefully. The yellow glow in his eyes appeared a bit duller than it had been a minute ago. Could it have been the chocolate?
Excitement exploded in his stomach. He'd done it! He was fighting the wolf! And he was winning!
Remus stopped that train of thought. He was still a werewolf. He hadn't won.
A steely glint appeared in his eyes. In every fairy tale he'd, the good guys didn't just give up when they were outnumbered or wandless – they fought on, because it was the right thing to do. Even when the Dark wizards offered them anything and everything they wanted, threatening the heroes' lives and the lives of those they loved, they refused, because the Dark wizards were wrong and evil and weren't supposed to win.
Sometimes the heroes died. But they were always avenged, and in the end, good always triumphed over evil.
Remus took in a deep breath, the scent of chocolate lingering heavily on his tongue. Maybe he wouldn't beat against the wolf. Maybe the wolf would – hurt him.
The chocolate lay innocently on the table. Remus began to break it through the wrapper, preventing stains from getting onto his fingers.
Maybe he couldn't win in the end. Maybe he wasn't going to be one of the heroes that fought great battles and slew vicious monsters and won a beautiful princess. Maybe no one was even going to know about his fight.
But no hero did it for the glory. Heroes fought and died because they believed in something greater than themselves – something that was worth lives.
And Remus' eyes stayed amber even after death.