Hi there. I really have no idea where this came from. It just popped into my head, demanding to be written, and so I obliged. It's not the most polished thing (in fact it's even a little rough), but I think that's appropriate to the tone and subject matter, so I'm pleased with how this has turned out.
This is set right after Sirius' death in OotP.
-AmayaSora
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Remus Lupin, or any other part of the Harry Potter universe; I just borrow them for my own amusement. I also don't make any money off of this.
Lone Wolf
"He can't come back, because he's d-"
"HE - IS - NOT - DEAD!"
It was almost lucky that Harry had interrupted him, because if he had had to say that word, harsh and final, cutting like a knife, that would have been it. He wouldn't have been able to hold it back any longer, and the tears would've come.
Not that they hadn't, of course, it's just that, thanks to Harry's rage and impatience, he'd been able to hold them back just long enough to get out of there, away from the boy who'd had to be far stronger than was just. Harry didn't need to see him cry.
He had gone to the Shrieking Shack. How he got there he'll never know; dazedly Apparating to Hogsmeade, stumbling blindly through the gates and grounds, until finally collapsing on the floor of the Shack, sobbing. Each sob that tore through his body made him painfully aware that he was still living, still able to feel each time his ribcage slammed against the unforgiving wood underneath him, while his best friends, his whole world, were gone, gone, gone.
Then, there were no more tears, and he hated himself at that moment. After all that Sirius had done for him, he couldn't even muster up a proper amount of tears. It was pitiful. So he sat up, which was a mistake, because every little cranny in the dusty Shack held some memory of his fallen friends, some tiny reminder of the happiness that was ripped from him. He couldn't bear to be there, in that room, where the phantom figures of his teenage brothers lounged in every corner, seeping into every part of his being. But where else could he go? Never again could he set foot in Grimmauld Place, not after all of this. Tonks was in St. Mungo's, he was sure of it, but he was in no state to visit her. She'd be angry, of course, but now he welcomed it. Anything was better than this crushing grief.
So, for the first time in his life, Remus wished- fervently, desperately- for the full moon. Because the wolf didn't care. The wolf wouldn't feel as if his heart was being ripped from his chest. The human Remus could never abide loneliness, not after James and Sirius had shown him what friendship really was, but the monster inside him- he was a lone wolf.