***
I can't believe he's gone again. This makes the third time this week.
I look out through the tiny window of our cabin, set deep inside an Unplottable stretch of
wood. There's nothing moving about the forest but heavy shadows, which dodge through
the thick canopy of leaves like fugitives from the moonlight. I run my hands through my
hair.
Remus, where are you?
He can't be the spy, he can't be the spy. . . You iaren't/i the spy, are you, love?
I shake my head, as if to forcibly remove the idea. Remus wouldn't do betray us. He
wouldn't turn Lily and James over to Voldemort. He is kind, and good, and. . .
Gone.
Where have you gone to?
I stand up abruptly, paying no heed as my chair clatters to the floor. I have to do
something. Anything. I can't go on thinking like this. Remus is my mate. He's my
imate/i. He wouldn't join the Death Eaters. He doesn't have an evil bone in his
body.
Unless. . .
No. Remus isn't a dark creature. The wolf is, and it doesn't take control but once a
month. Remus is as human as I.
But the wolf. . .
The wolf has no control.
But under the cover of night, when he bites and licks and howls. . .
And the books, all those books, pages and pages of. . .
But that is all prejudice against werewolves. They aren't ievil/i. People are driven
away from them by fear. Fear and nothing else. Remus is only a threat once a month, and
even then, not to his best friends. James and Peter and I. . . We can control the wolf.
Or does the wolf control us? Does the wolf control Remus?
No, it can't be. Not Remus. iAnybody/i but Remus. How would I live without you?
What would I be left with? I would be nothing, I am inothing/i without you!
Gods, love, where are you? Why aren't you here with me?
You aren't the spy, you can't be the spy. . .
But, if you are the spy. . .
I can't let you hurt them. I can't let you near James and Lily and Harry. Little Harry,
innocent Harry. . .
I love them.
I love you.
I love your hair, brown and silver and so soft to touch. I love your hands. I love your
hands on me and in me and around me. I love your eyes, deep and mysterious and I could
die, just die because they are so brown, and I. . .
They're depending on me.
I depend on you.
And you. . .
You are a, icould/i be a. . .
You are my weakness.
I walk over to the fireplace and throw a pinch of powder into the flames. The fire glows
blue for a moment, and I nearly back away before I kneel down and lean into the flames.
"Peter? Oi, Wormtail, are you awake?"
***
"Are you ready, Remus?"
I look over to the cauldron, full of a thick brew buried beneath a mass of heady foam, and
cringe. It looks revolting, it smells ungodly, and. . .
It's my only hope.
My only hope to be. . .
Yes.
No.
"Yes."
Pernelle Flamel tries to smile as she dips a ladle into the brew and pours it into a cup. It
comes out hollow and is laced with apprehension.
"Have you discussed any of the risks with the boys? You know they are quite fond of
you. Sirius expecially should be told."
I nod, staring into the liquid steaming over the brim as if to see the future. I see nothing.
Of course I haven't told them. How could I? She knows it too, I think, from the faint
disapproving crease on the corner of her mouth that fades as quickly as it took shape.
They wouldn't let me do this. Sirius wouldn't let me. He wouldn't understand that I
ineed/i to do this. I need. . .
I need to be human. He deserves this, Sirius deserves a mate who is inormal/i, who
isn't such a burden.
But still. . .
I am afraid.
But today, today is the end. Today we will find out if Pernelle has succeeded. Today. . .
Today may be the day I die.
Wolfsbane in a potion made for consumption. Highly poisonous and volatile. Not very
comforting when you are being offered a taste, but. . .
How could I refuse? How could I be offered a chance at humanity, actual humanity, and
not take it?
How can I be so selfish as to consider it? At the price I may have to pay? What about
James and Lily and Peter and Harry and. . . What about iSirius/i? How can I
consider something that may result in leaving him? The only person who I ever, could
ever. . .
I love you, I love you, I love you. . .
But how can I refuse?
Please understand, I'm doing this for them, for you. . .
For me.
I need to be rid of this. Of the guilt and shame of being a monster. If people just knew, if
they only knew. . . How many would be left by my side? How many would be willing to
aid my friends when they realize they've be harbouring a beast? How many would protect
James, Lily, and Harry from the Death Eaters then? How many would be afraid for their
lives?
How many have always hated, loathed, been afraid of werewolves?
What if it turns out that they have been right all along? What if I am what they say I am?
What if the wolf curses someone?
Gods, there ihave/i been times, there have been so many mistakes where I could
have. . .
What if I curse another child, as careless and carefree as I was?
What if I curse. . .
I can't let that happen. Not ever. Sirius thinks he's safe from me, from the wolf, from us. .
.
But what if you're wrong, love? All of those nights in my life, in my bed, in my arms. . .
I need to protect him. I need to protect him from me, from the creature within me. I'd do
anything to keep him safe. He is. . .
Sirius is everything.
I couldn't bear hurting him in any way. And if the wolf got loose, or even the knowledge
of the wolf got loose. . . He could get hurt, he would be devastated, and I. . .
I need to protect him. He is my mate, and I would be anything he needs me to be. I
couldn't live without him. I couldn't live if I drove him away. I need his laugh to fill my
days and his sighs to fill my nights and his arms to anchor me to this life. To this world.
But already he's. . .
Letting go?
Are you, dearest Padfoot?
I would do anything, anything, love. Just ask. . . Just don't leave me all alone. Why are
you leaving? Could I convince you to stay?
I lift the potion to my mouth. My nostrils flare from the nauseating smell emitted from the
potion, but I ignore it the best I can. Soon I don't have to.
The taste is even worse.
I love you, I love you, I love you, I. . .
I can't believe he's gone again. This makes the third time this week.
I look out through the tiny window of our cabin, set deep inside an Unplottable stretch of
wood. There's nothing moving about the forest but heavy shadows, which dodge through
the thick canopy of leaves like fugitives from the moonlight. I run my hands through my
hair.
Remus, where are you?
He can't be the spy, he can't be the spy. . . You iaren't/i the spy, are you, love?
I shake my head, as if to forcibly remove the idea. Remus wouldn't do betray us. He
wouldn't turn Lily and James over to Voldemort. He is kind, and good, and. . .
Gone.
Where have you gone to?
I stand up abruptly, paying no heed as my chair clatters to the floor. I have to do
something. Anything. I can't go on thinking like this. Remus is my mate. He's my
imate/i. He wouldn't join the Death Eaters. He doesn't have an evil bone in his
body.
Unless. . .
No. Remus isn't a dark creature. The wolf is, and it doesn't take control but once a
month. Remus is as human as I.
But the wolf. . .
The wolf has no control.
But under the cover of night, when he bites and licks and howls. . .
And the books, all those books, pages and pages of. . .
But that is all prejudice against werewolves. They aren't ievil/i. People are driven
away from them by fear. Fear and nothing else. Remus is only a threat once a month, and
even then, not to his best friends. James and Peter and I. . . We can control the wolf.
Or does the wolf control us? Does the wolf control Remus?
No, it can't be. Not Remus. iAnybody/i but Remus. How would I live without you?
What would I be left with? I would be nothing, I am inothing/i without you!
Gods, love, where are you? Why aren't you here with me?
You aren't the spy, you can't be the spy. . .
But, if you are the spy. . .
I can't let you hurt them. I can't let you near James and Lily and Harry. Little Harry,
innocent Harry. . .
I love them.
I love you.
I love your hair, brown and silver and so soft to touch. I love your hands. I love your
hands on me and in me and around me. I love your eyes, deep and mysterious and I could
die, just die because they are so brown, and I. . .
They're depending on me.
I depend on you.
And you. . .
You are a, icould/i be a. . .
You are my weakness.
I walk over to the fireplace and throw a pinch of powder into the flames. The fire glows
blue for a moment, and I nearly back away before I kneel down and lean into the flames.
"Peter? Oi, Wormtail, are you awake?"
***
"Are you ready, Remus?"
I look over to the cauldron, full of a thick brew buried beneath a mass of heady foam, and
cringe. It looks revolting, it smells ungodly, and. . .
It's my only hope.
My only hope to be. . .
Yes.
No.
"Yes."
Pernelle Flamel tries to smile as she dips a ladle into the brew and pours it into a cup. It
comes out hollow and is laced with apprehension.
"Have you discussed any of the risks with the boys? You know they are quite fond of
you. Sirius expecially should be told."
I nod, staring into the liquid steaming over the brim as if to see the future. I see nothing.
Of course I haven't told them. How could I? She knows it too, I think, from the faint
disapproving crease on the corner of her mouth that fades as quickly as it took shape.
They wouldn't let me do this. Sirius wouldn't let me. He wouldn't understand that I
ineed/i to do this. I need. . .
I need to be human. He deserves this, Sirius deserves a mate who is inormal/i, who
isn't such a burden.
But still. . .
I am afraid.
But today, today is the end. Today we will find out if Pernelle has succeeded. Today. . .
Today may be the day I die.
Wolfsbane in a potion made for consumption. Highly poisonous and volatile. Not very
comforting when you are being offered a taste, but. . .
How could I refuse? How could I be offered a chance at humanity, actual humanity, and
not take it?
How can I be so selfish as to consider it? At the price I may have to pay? What about
James and Lily and Peter and Harry and. . . What about iSirius/i? How can I
consider something that may result in leaving him? The only person who I ever, could
ever. . .
I love you, I love you, I love you. . .
But how can I refuse?
Please understand, I'm doing this for them, for you. . .
For me.
I need to be rid of this. Of the guilt and shame of being a monster. If people just knew, if
they only knew. . . How many would be left by my side? How many would be willing to
aid my friends when they realize they've be harbouring a beast? How many would protect
James, Lily, and Harry from the Death Eaters then? How many would be afraid for their
lives?
How many have always hated, loathed, been afraid of werewolves?
What if it turns out that they have been right all along? What if I am what they say I am?
What if the wolf curses someone?
Gods, there ihave/i been times, there have been so many mistakes where I could
have. . .
What if I curse another child, as careless and carefree as I was?
What if I curse. . .
I can't let that happen. Not ever. Sirius thinks he's safe from me, from the wolf, from us. .
.
But what if you're wrong, love? All of those nights in my life, in my bed, in my arms. . .
I need to protect him. I need to protect him from me, from the creature within me. I'd do
anything to keep him safe. He is. . .
Sirius is everything.
I couldn't bear hurting him in any way. And if the wolf got loose, or even the knowledge
of the wolf got loose. . . He could get hurt, he would be devastated, and I. . .
I need to protect him. He is my mate, and I would be anything he needs me to be. I
couldn't live without him. I couldn't live if I drove him away. I need his laugh to fill my
days and his sighs to fill my nights and his arms to anchor me to this life. To this world.
But already he's. . .
Letting go?
Are you, dearest Padfoot?
I would do anything, anything, love. Just ask. . . Just don't leave me all alone. Why are
you leaving? Could I convince you to stay?
I lift the potion to my mouth. My nostrils flare from the nauseating smell emitted from the
potion, but I ignore it the best I can. Soon I don't have to.
The taste is even worse.
I love you, I love you, I love you, I. . .