Misunderstandation
Disclaimer: I know nothing, I own nothing.
A/N: Remus may seem slightly strange, but that's basically the point.
Chapter 1: The beginning to all things whacky
Don't you hate it when someone in your life decides to 'label' you?
Yeah, well, too bad for you if you don't share my opinion, because guess what? You're stuck with it! Yep. For the rest of this rant, too. So, good luck with that, alright?
Cool. Now that we've got that sorted, perhaps I can tell you about this whole 'labelling' issue?
Maybe an introduction will bode you well.
Basically, I'm in seventh year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I go by the name of Remus Lupin. Some call me 'Remy' or, if you're like Padfoot, 'Moony', but, whatever floats your boat. More on that later. Okay. Seventh-year, best friend of James Potter, Sirius Black, and one vertically-challenged Peter Pettigrew. I happen to be the more responsible one of our quartet, but McGonagall doesn't seem to view things the way I do. What can I say? Life's one big letdown, sometimes.
Especially when you're the misunderstood one.
Seriously, I've spent seven years at this school, and all this time, people think they've got me figured out. James calls me his 'quiet, no-nonsense bloke', which is just disturbing, because I'm no-one's bloke. Sirius likes to think that I'm his alarm clock, whereas Peter refers to me as his walking dictionary. See what I mean by the labelling issue?
Anyway, here I am, recording my laments in the midst of a Marauder conversation, filled with laughter, hand-waving and cupcakes. Yeah, Sirius likes his cupcakes. With lots of cherries. Don't ask me why.
"Remus, what are you writing in that tatty old thing?"
I look up, and give them a look, complete with raised eyebrows.
"This thing," I hold up by journal, "is called a book. Might help once in a while if you used the correct terms, Prongs." Then, I reach over and promptly whack him on the head. I knew this little gem was useful in more ways than one!
"Talk to us instead of write, would you, old boy?" Peter says, picking up a cupcake and sniffing it.
"What? Stop calling me that, Pete. Where did you learn something like that?" I ask, slightly shocked and annoyed. Firstly, I'm not old, and secondly, it's no great sin to write instead of talk.
"I heard Lily call her dog that the other day. In the Owlery," he responds nonchalantly, still on his quest: searching for the perfect and irreplaceable cupcake.
I roll my eyes, certain that James will start asking about his precious Head Girl in exactly…
3…2…1…
"Lily? You saw Lily? Wait, you talked to Lily? Did Lily ask about-"
"Shut up, Prongs. You said the poor girl's name about," Sirius chides, scratches his head while doing a mental count, and shrugs his shoulders in defeat. He continues munching his piece of chocolate cake, leaving his sentence unfinished.
"Four, Sirius. Four times. I counted," I say, simply because I'm the misunderstood one who is responsible and all that jazz.
I bet Prongs doesn't even realise that Lily doesn't have a dog. The guy hears her name, and all sense flies out the window. Or, in this case, into the fireplace and up the chimney. How do I know this? Because he still hasn't realised that Peter was just in the throes of a massive hallucination.
"James, just ask her out, would you? You're a desperate man, we're your desperate friends, and I am in desperate need of ranting, so get your skates on and do something about your single status before I hook you up with someone!"
I don't mean to yell at them; I just can't stand the guy moping after Lily for all eternity. Merlin knows, if he doesn't rip his thatch of hair out soon after his 56th rejection, I'll rip it out for him.
That's how desperate I am.
"Remus, if you're frustrated, you should know better than to take it out on your best mates. Talk, alright?" James says, patting my knee. If he thinks this is comforting, then he's got another think coming. Honestly, it's freaky.
"Fine. I'll talk. What do you want me to tell you? About the time I caught you and Sirius hexing each other at 2am on a Wednesday? Or would you like me to remind you about your detention with McGonagall on Saturday? Or, listen to this, how about the fact that I'm the most misunderstood person in the whole damn castle?" I explode.
Peter snorts. We all swing our heads to look at him, clearly thinking that he's insane. Well, I'm just mad that he interrupted me. And I was building up to such a fantastic climax, too. Prat.
He looks at us, before chuckling while saying, "Mis-understood. Ha! Get it? Miss Understood?"
Sirius shakes Peter's shoulders at this stage, looking him in the eye and saying, "Mate, I think it's time to put away the cupcakes, alright? You're goin' a bit barmy there."
Pete then hands him the cupcake, obviously trusting his friend to put it down. Sad little bloke doesn't know what's coming. Sirius takes the titbit, backs away, and shoves the entire thing, cherries and all, down his gob. After he has digested this new piece of food, he turns towards me and we all resume our conversation about my pathetic, misunderstood life.
"No, I'm serious!" I cry out, before Padfoot interrupts my soon-to-be rant.
"No you're not. I am."
I sigh and shake my head, before getting to my feet and pacing the length of the common room. My friends, meanwhile, are blissfully unaware of my dilemmas, and continue their post-dessert/pre-supper meal. Charming, really. Watching the three of them eat brings to my mind a visit to a Muggle zoo, where several pigs were fighting over their daily grub. I'm telling you, the oinking and weird sounds still haunt me to this day. Of course, the fact that my closest friends resemble this horrific bunch of animals when they are eating doesn't help.
"Guys, really. Everyone thinks I'm this boring old bloke who does nothing but read and eat and sleep and BE BLOODY RESPONSIBLE all day. As if I don't have anything better to do. Do they think I like being responsible? It's a tough job, you know," I begin, but stop when I realise that I can still hear the gulping and belching routine that belongs solely to Sirius Black.
"Hey! Cut it out! I'm trying to pour out my soul here, but it's kinda hard when you pigs are stuffing your faces in the corner!"
Damn. Now there's this awkward silence.
"You know what? Forget it. Writing's far easier," I tell them, sitting back down and putting my face in my hands. At once, I feel three pairs of hands comforting me, and I lift my head and smile at them, grateful for their friendship.
"Never fear, Remy, cupcake is here!" Sirius grins while handing me a cupcake.
I scowl at him in what I hope is a thundery expression. His smile may be endearing to some, but the name 'Remy' is hardly adorable.
I haven't written in a while, so maybe this has been a bit shabby. However, I'd appreciate it very much if you could review and tell me how it went. Cheers!
