Part 2 – Too Cold to Leave Him
When Remus next awoke, it was to the soft, soothing voice of the maid telling him he was needed in the study.
He lay confused for several minutes before thfe events from the forest came flooding back to him.
The Beast had saved his life.
The thought was terribly disconcerting.
How long had be been asleep?
Remus looked across the room to the tall windows. It was dark outside. It could not have been more than a few hours since they had returned to the castle.
Dressing in a hurry, he raced down the length of the corridor and pushed open the door to the study—surveying the room with concern shining in his big, golden eyes.
The servant was there beside the Beast again, his expression unreadable.
"Take a seat, Remus," he said softly.
The boy obeyed without argument and took the seat his father had occupied only one day before. The sight of his father gambling away their fortune seemed like an old memory; something that had happened long ago.
"The Master would like to offer you a drink but he is not sure of your tastes. I thought perhaps a glass of wine might be to your liking?"
Remus could only nod as the servant appeared to conjure a bottle of red wine and a crystal glass out of thin air. After pouring it and offering the burgundy liquid to Remus—a glass of something stronger already rested on the table in front of the Beast—he bowed and exited the room.
Without the servant, the study was filled with silence…hundreds of long, drawn-out moments in which neither occupant did more than take in slow, steady breaths of air.
What was the Beast waiting for?
With a grimace, he thought back to the conversation from his last visit to the study.
Oh.
He was painfully aware of his newly acquired debt to the Beast but could he really do that? Especially after he had been so adamantly against it…accusing the Beast of wishing to humiliate him; reprimanding him for requesting something that he could have demanded from Remus. He remembered the servant's words:
"The Master did not wish to humiliate you."
The Beast could have asked for so much more from him. Why hadn't he?
Remus squinted into the darkness that concealed the figure in question.
The image of the wolves lunging, biting, hurting; and the sensation of the dark, red, liquid running through his fingers flashed through his mind and he felt sick with guilt.
Long, heavy moments of silence continued to pass, the guilt tearing horribly at him, bubbling up—he did not know why he felt so strongly about this.
The gratitude, the confusion, and the embarrassment created a dizzying combination. Without having had a single, sweet taste of the red wine, he was beginning to feel drunk.
He wished the Beast would say something.
His heart pounded loudly in his chest, warning him, as he stood up.
No one would know…
As he dazedly reached for the top button of his shirt, opening it with a soft 'pop', he told himself that, if nothing else, he should do this so he could return home to his father. He told himself that he ought to do it so that he could return to his familiar, mundane life that involved travelling around in search of his father's lost fortune. He tried to make it clear to whatever inner being that was spurring him on with all these horrible, foreign feelings that it should most certainly not be because he merely felt guilty.
He tried.
Figuring that the slow, teasing removal of his garments—an act usually reserved for mischievous lovers—would go unappreciated, his fingers fumbled quickly with the buttons.
The Beast made no objections.
When he finished with the last button, he pulled the shirt off and dropped it to the floor.
Still feeling reckless from the onslaught of emotions, he reached down quickly to remove the last of his clothing.
He was naked.
The thought was surprisingly sobering.
A new set of emotions rushed through him. The most prominent and disturbing was the sense of self-consciousness. Everyone, even a Beast, would have preconceptions about what someone else might look like naked. What if he had some horrible flaw he hadn't yet realized he possessed because there had never been a lover to point it out?
He glanced down at his pale, naked body and considered himself as an onlooker might. He was strong enough…the lean muscles on his body could possibly be considered attractive; but his legs, though long, did not succeed in matching the height of the Beast. Up his right thigh, a long, jagged scar glinted in the firelight. Perhaps the hypothetical onlooker might not call him flawless but surely he wouldn't be considered repulsive to a potential lover?
Though the Beast was no potential lover, the insecurity still swelled up inside of him as he looked back up at the dark figure.
Even in the dim light of the fire he could see the Beast had turned away from him.
Whether in disgust, shame or some other unidentifiable emotion, he wasn't sure. He wondered briefly if the Beast had even looked at him at all.
Before he could begin to question how long he was meant to stand there, naked and exposed, the Beast had stood—nearly toppling the table over in the process—and all but fled the room.
As Remus looked around the study, replacing his few, precious pieces of clothing, he felt the humiliation of what he had just done burn a deep blush onto his cheeks.
He downed the glass of wine and left for his room, wishing he had indeed had the excuse of being drunk.
Whether it was from the dangerous occurrence in the woods or the mortifying encounter in the study, Remus had been positively exhausted.
He did not wake the next day until it was well past three, and even with the many hours of sleep, his body still felt drained.
He stepped out of his room—dressed and ready to agree to the first offer of a meal he received. His feet automatically retraced the steps he had taken to the dining room the day before.
It was not long before he found himself at the base of the stairwell—staring up at the handsome statue.
Without the maid there to urge him past the marble figure, he was able to study the man in the slow, leisurely way he had been wanting to.
Lord, the man was handsome. How someone could manage to look proud, forbidding and thoughtful at the same time was beyond Remus.
But the man in the statue managed it all right.
His eyes were alert and focused, and though there was no trace of a smile on his face, Remus thought he could see a hint of laughter somewhere in his expression. He circled around to the back of the statue in curiosity. The man's broad shoulders were accentuated by the fitted cloak he wore and though his hair was perhaps a bit longer than most men allowed theirs to get—nothing about the man was feminine. In fact, Remus doubted there was anything that could make him appear more masculine.
Just as he was about to tear his eyes away from the entrancing figure, a familiar sight caught his eye. The man's hair was pulled back by a clasp. A clasp that had been engrained with a rose.
He felt a surge of pleasure course through him.
This was who had saved him from the wolves. Even without being able to tell the statue's eye color, he recognized the shape. They were the Beast's eyes too. He lost track of how long he stood staring at the statue, trying to fathom the reason why this handsome man would occupy the body of a Beast every evening.
By the time he finally reached the dining room and politely requested a meal it was nearly five o' clock.
Remus shuddered at the thought of another evening like the last and even the sight of the thin servant holding a tray of rich, warm food did little to calm his nerves. Despite his growing hunger, it took him several moments to swallow the first bite.
"Is the food to your liking, Remus?"
The servant sounded tense and uneasy and Remus wondered if he knew what had occurred the night before.
"Yes, thank you," came his soft reply.
The servant bowed and was turning to go when a sudden, horrifying thought occurred to Remus.
"Did the Beast change his mind about the offer?" he blurted out, grimacing once more at the thought of what he had done.
He was sure he must have embarrassed the poor man but he couldn't help it.
"Did I lose the offer when I refused him on the first evening?" he pressed.
The man turned to face him and frowned. Maybe the Beast hadn't told the servants what Remus had done.
"The Master would never go back on his word, Remus."
Remus let out a shaky breath in relief.
At least last night wasn't completely wasted.
"If you…do…exactly as I instructed," the servant continued. "You will be set free."
Even after the servant had gone and he had forced down the rest of his meal, Remus couldn't stop thinking about his last visit to the study…absently wondering why he wasn't more relieved by the promise of freedom.
Ten minutes until nine.
He stood before the mirror, contemplating his appearance. He was dressed in a white button-up shirt and dark brown trousers—both provided earlier by the kindly maid. Remus might have blushed at his decision not to wear anything underneath his trousers but reasoned with himself that if it would be anything like last night, removing his clothes as quickly as possible was a sure way to get the Beast to excuse him.
Staring intently at his own golden eyes in the reflection, he sighed.
"Six more nights," he told himself firmly.
As he made his way back to the study, he silently prayed that his mask of confidence would hold.
Entering the room with only a moderate amount of shame, he was slightly unsettled to find that the Beast was not in his usual chair.
Tonight the large figure was leaning over the fire, one covered paw resting above the mantelpiece, his back to Remus.
When the Beast did not turn or acknowledge his presence in any way but for the stiffening of his back, Remus genuinely considered returning to his room and leaving the Beast to his solitude. It was only the sight of red, stained bandages on the floor that stopped him.
The feeling of blood dripping through his fingers returned to his mind again and he took an impulsive step forward before he could stop himself.
"I-I never formerly thanked you…for saving my life," he said quietly.
The Beast remained motionless.
Emboldened further, Remus took another few steps. He was almost near enough to reach out and touch the Beast if he wanted to.
"Are you hurt badly?"
He waited for a response for several long, tense seconds, and when none came, he tentatively reached his hand out to touch the Beast's arm—wanting, needing,a reaction.
"Let me see," he whispered, trying to lift the sleeve of the large, black cloak.
The Beast yanked his arm back in an instant and cradled it protectively against his chest.
His soft growl echoed in the large room.
Remus stepped back instinctively.
He had no idea what to do and though the Beast had finally turned to face him, a determined silence once again filled the room.
"I—," he started. "Your servant—Lumiere—said you intend to keep your word."
Nothing.
"About…letting me go as long as I…" he trailed off.
Still no response.
"I know you must have changed your mind about wanting to see me," he continued. "But it was your decision to request this particular thing and-and if you're not willing to just let me go home without doing something in return then you can just look away like you did last night."
The Beast made a sudden, surprised movement at his words but kept quiet.
The deal was still on then.
Remus wished he could see the gray eyes.
For the first time since he had entered the room that night, he noticed a glass of wine on the table.
He reached for it and swiftly gulped it down.
"So…ah…I'll just…right."
He quickly pulled the white shirt over his head—not bothering with the buttons tonight—and set to work on his trousers.
In that moment, he truly despised the fire.
He wanted to know which part of himself disgusted the Beast but the fire had chosen not to light up the gray eyes as it had before.
Remus' hands shook as he stepped out of his trousers, revealing every inch of his fair skin for the second time.
The Beast made a noise that Remus could not decipher.
There was no doubt in his mind that whether or not the Beast approved of what he saw, he was definitely looking this time.
Remus swallowed hard and waited, fighting down the urge to reach for his clothing.
For a split second, he had imagined the living, breathing being that modelled for the statue standing there looking at him, judging him, and he felt his self-consciousness increase tenfold.
He wondered how good the Beast's hearing was and hated the thought that the sound of his thumping heart might already have reached the sensitive ears.
Still unsure of what to do—would the Beast ever break his silence? — the servant's words played over in his mind like a chorus to his own personal song.
"The Master wishes you to remove your clothing."
He would give anything to see the Beast's eyes.
"You will stand before him, uncovered, until he bids you goodnight."
He stood still and breathed evenly until the Beast's soft, rumbling voice came from the shadows.
"You may go."
The following day was spent in the solitude that his bright, spacious bedroom provided.
The minutes were ticking by at an even faster rate than they had the previous afternoon. He laid on the large bed, lost in thought. The maid would bring him a meal, smile at him in a concerned, motherly way, then leave him to contemplate his situation some more.
The memory of the wolves in the forest, viciously attacking the Beast, would replay itself over and over in his mind.
He hoped he was not going mad.
He would recall some new, small detail each time the memory came back to him. The Beast had not uttered a single cry of pain as the sharp teeth pierced his skin. His gray eyes had looked alert and dangerous—definitely not afraid.
Remus marvelled at the thought.
The idea of owing someone his life should have disturbed Remus more than it did.
As he fingered the silver clasp and watched the clock on the wall tick away the precious moments he had to himself, he tried to picture what his father's face would look like when he returned to the village in five days time.
It was too soon to think about something like that.
Dinner came promptly at seven but his appetite still had not returned. Remus shut his eyes to the moonlight streaming in through the high windows and drifted off into a fitful sleep within minutes.
When he opened his eyes, it was to find a dark shadow hovering over him…watching.
He could not see its face.
"Mine," it growled.
Remus sprang up in bed.
He was shocked to find himself gasping and covered in sweat.
The dream could not have lasted more than a few seconds.
He looked across the room at the clock and nearly cursed when he saw the time.
It was after nine. He was late.
When he reached the study, he saw that it was filled with the same flickering firelight that had been present every evening. The Beast was once again in his chair; the servant absent; the wine waiting.
Right. Probably best not to ask any questions.
"Ah…," he started, glancing at the swirling red wine. "I'm not very thirsty so I'll go ahead and…start."
He reached up to the top button of his white shirt but hesitated before undoing it, a thought suddenly coming to him.
"I don't suppose you could…sit up a bit straighter?" he asked.
From where he stood he could see the Beast tilt his head in inquiry.
For a long while, the crackling fire was the only thing brave enough to break the silence.
Was he in trouble for asking such a question? Surely the Beast hadn't taken offence…?
After another long moment in which he contemplated continuing to undress—his request forgotten—he saw the Beast shift his position and straighten his back.
There.
Remus could see the eyes.
He felt more nervous than before but seeing the gray orbs again reminded him of the tall, handsome statue and he felt a slight bit of pleasure that they would be watching him. Only him.
"Thank you," he said softly.
No sound came from the Beast and he took that as his cue to continue.
Reaching for the top button again, Remus slowly removed his shirt—baring his stomach and chest to the Beast in a manner quite unlike before.
He could not look away from the gray eyes.
When he pulled the shirt from his shoulders and tossed it to the chair, he watched the Beast's eyes darken.
He ceased his movement and for a long time they simply stared at one another.
He could not look away.
It was as if the Beast was trying to tell him something; to explain something.
Those eyes...
The moment was broken by a sharp rap on the door.
At the Beast's growl, the servant entered—an apologetic look on his gaunt face.
"Forgive me, Master. Your guest has arrived early…she wishes to speak to you immediately."
The Beast was up in an instant.
Tall and imposing as ever, Remus felt a second wave of pleasure wash over him at their closeness.
It was gone quickly as the Beast swept across the room to follow the servant.
The deep, soothing growl of his voice carried back into the study as he exited.
"You may go."
It was disappointment.
Remus was sure of it now.
Last night he had been standing on some dark, mysterious precipice that had vanished at the sound of a knock.
A flood of questions, mainly centered on the reason for the interruption, plagued his mind as he lay there that day.
Who was the guest who had arrived? Was she a Beast like the Master? Was she his lover? His friend?
It did not matter.
Remus had wasted another day in bed and he had no answers to show for it.
Frustrated, he glanced up at the clock for the thousandth time that day.
Three-thirty.
There was enough time for him to take a walk and clear his head before returning to the study once more.
Bundled up in his heavy, black cloak and thick boots, he rushed through the corridors, and down the stairs—avoiding the proud statue this time—and swiftly made his way towards the front door of the castle.
"Remus?"
He turned at the sound of the familiar voice.
"Where are you off to now, dear?"
"I thought I'd take a quick walk around the grounds before sunset," he answered, hoping the maid would let him go without question.
"Ah, well. Make sure you're wrapped up warm enough, dear. It won't do to catch a cold," she warned.
"Thank you, I will." He smiled quickly at the lady before heading out into the shining winter sun—breathing in the cold air with relief.
It felt good to be outside.
He raced through the main garden and crossed the grounds until he had a clear view of the castle.
Impressive as ever, his eyes scanned the great many windows in admiration.
He wondered which room belonged to the Beast.
It did not matter.
Sudden movement flashed across one of the windows and he squinted up towards it.
Could it be the Beast?
The sound of something cracking startled him and Remus looked down at where he stood. Whatever he was on was covered in snow. He felt the ground sink a bit lower under his feet and he jumped, realizing a moment too late exactly where he was.
Water.
In an instant, he was under it; gasping for air and grappling at broken ice. His hands could not find anything solid to hold onto and his head dipped under the icy water as he continued to struggle. He had always been a fairly good swimmer but now he could hardly move in the freezing water. He wished that someone would see him; that anyone would come.
But no one did.
He held his breath until he felt his lungs constrict; still vainly attempting to find something solid he could use to pull himself out with. His mind began to go fuzzy—he was drowning in the castle waters where no one would ever think to look for him.
Remus could no longer fight his body's natural response to the lack of oxygen; his mouth opened and he sucked in the cold, freezing water.
Everything went black.
"Leave us at once—all of you! And, you there, tell Lumiere to send for Rosings—NOW!"
"Yes, Master."
The sound of the familiar deep growl awoke the young man from his unconscious state.
He was shaking uncontrollably; he could hardly feel his body and he had a horrible ache in his chest. The effort it took to force his eyes open was extraordinary. Under heavy eyelids, he scanned the room.
It was dark.
He recognized the tall windows across from him and knew he was in his bedroom. He did not pause to wonder how he had gotten there. A few candles had been lit throughout the room and he saw a fuzzy figure hovering over him protectively.
"What happened?" he managed to choke out, unable to stop shivering.
No one answered him.
He watched numbly as his soaking wet clothes were carefully – but quickly – removed from his fragile body.
Still, he could not stop trembling.
The bed sank down beside him and the next thing he knew he felt warm, furry heat encompass him. His body calmed almost instantly.
He was so tired.
Turning to bury his face in the warmth, he allowed sleep to take him, unexplainably calmed by the sound of soft, contented growls and the feeling of something warm and wet lapping at his neck.
"I insist that you stay in bed, Remus. The Master will understand."
When he had finally awoken from his deep sleep, alone and exhausted, Remus had immediately felt a pang of loss.
Where had the warm presence gone?
His movement had caught the attention of one of the maids who positively refused to let him out of bed for more than a few minutes.
It was now after nine in the evening and his insistence that he should go to the study and continue his routine was proving to be fruitless. The maid stood guard over his bed for another half an hour before she was called for by one of the other servants. Believing Remus to be asleep, the earlier reluctance she felt at leaving him had disappeared.
At the soft click of his door shutting behind her, Remus was up and out of bed.
He did not want to waste a moment lingering in the room.
Without a single stitch of clothing covering his stiff, pale body, he grabbed the small box from his bedside table and rushed to the mirror across the room.
He had not had any time to himself that day to analyze what had happened.
According to the maid, the Master had jumped into the freezing water and pulled him out just in time—soaking himself in the process.
He had not asked for more details.
Pulling the small clasp out of the box, he reached up to hurriedly comb his hair back with his fingers; holding it in place with the silver treasure. He was not sure why it was suddenly so important to him to wear it.
He dressed in a hurry and left.
It did not matter that the servants might see him and send him back to bed. He tried to tell himself that he felt compelled to go because it was his responsibility to hold up his end of the agreement…but he had already missed one evening from the accident so why not one more?
The fact was…he needed to go. He was being pulled by something and he was too tired and bemused to try and ignore it.
He did not want to fight it.
Forcefully pushing open the door to the study, he locked eyes with the Beast almost instantly.
The figure sat up slightly in his seat, surprised to see him no doubt, but said nothing.
Remus' heart raced.
Oh lord, did he want to undress for the Beast?
He let the guilt he felt all day spread and explode within him. His fingers all but flew to the top button of his white shirt.
"No."
Remus froze at the word. He watched the figure stand and walk to the opposite end of the room.
In silence, the Beast poured a small glass of wine before walking cautiously back towards Remus. His movements were careful—as if he expected Remus to run from him at any moment.
He handed Remus the glass and moved to stand directly in front of him.
As usual, almost every part of the Beast's faced was covered. Only the eyes were visible. The captivating pools of gray now looked at him as if he were the statue. The Beast studied his eyes, his nose, his lips…then further down…his neck, his covered chest, his stomach…further down…
Remus blushed furiously before he could help it.
As he took a sip of his wine to distract himself, the Beast circled around him once, and returned to his position in front of Remus.
Remus watched in awe, his golden eyes widening, as the Beast lifted his covered arm and pulled back the cloak, revealing his furry arm to Remus.
He had never seen any part of the Beast before. He was shocked by how beautiful, how soft, the fur looked. He raised his eyes to find the Beast watching him intently.
The gray eyes gave him a questioning look; Remus wasn't sure what he was asking permission for but still he nodded at the Beast.
When he raised his furry paw up to touch Remus' face, caressing his cheek softly, Remus thought the action seemed so very…human…that for a moment, he imagined it to be the hand of a man.
He closed his eyes.
The Beast continued to softly stroke his face—clearly under the impression that Remus was something that could easily be broken.
All the while, Remus felt the eyes on him; concentrating on his every response.
It was awhile before he felt the paw leave his face, travelling back to touch his hair.
The Beast froze.
He must have felt the clasp. Remus opened his eyes.
The Beast was staring at him with what could only be described as adoration.
As the Beast slid around behind the smaller man, Remus felt his body react unexpectedly. Blood coursed through him faster than it ever had before.
He was aroused.
He felt the Beast lean in close to his ear. Even without experience, Remus knew desire when he heard it.
"You may go."
He nearly cried out.
It was hard.
He had been up since the first light of the rising sun came shining in through the castle windows.
Time had to have slowed down. He had never had such a long day.
Breakfast, walk, bathe, read, lunch…and still, it was not yet noon. He wasn't sure how much more waiting he could do.
He walked around under the pretence of wanting to explore the castle and, since he had already given his word that he would not leave the safety of the walls without someone accompanying him, it was understandable, even expected, that he would wander around inside.
The pull he felt, however, could not be as easily explained.
Was it curiosity that was forcing his feet up the stairs? Desire that was guiding him though corridor after corridor until he was sure he would never find his way back to his own room?
He knew where he stood without even entering.
He was outside the Beast's bedroom.
If only he could just turn around and go back to his room and wait.
If only the ache that the pull caused had not begun to lessen as he closed in on the Beast.
Holding his breath, he twisted the handle of the large door—trying to convince himself that the worst that could happen was that he would get seen and sent back to his room.
He could feign ignorance. How was he to have known whose bedroom it was?
Remus pushed the door open.
The room was enormous; more than double the size of every other room Remus had seen in the castle. He froze almost instantly.
Something far more captivating than anything else he had ever seen stood by the window.
A man.
Naked.
Remus knew who he must be without seeing his face.
The man from the statue.
The Beast.
He had a strong, muscled back and long, powerful legs—he was by far the best looking person Remus had ever seen. When his eyes travelled down past the man's back, he flushed.
But he couldn't look away.
The dark haired man, clearly lost in his thoughts, did not seem to notice him. The strong shoulders were tensed; something was troubling him. Remus stood there for what might have been hours, watching silently from the doorway—entranced by the sight.
When he was finally able to shake himself from his stupor, he took off running back to his room, wishing he knew what exactly had drawn him to the Beast's bedroom in the first place.
That damn pull.
The small hand on the clock had just inched past the eight when a knock on his door sounded, startling him. He sat up quickly and crossed the room—surprised that the maid had not let herself in.
But before he even reached the door, a hooded figure had burst in. In an instant, he was up against the wall—the Beast's larger form pressed up close against his.
His heart sped up as the gray eyes bore down into his own.
There was something strange in the Beast's eyes tonight- a hunger that Remus had not seen there before.
He felt the blood rush through him quickly in response. What was happening to him?
"She said that you would come to me…that once I found you I wouldn't be able to let you go," the desire was so thick in the Beast's voice that Remus struggled not to shiver at the sound.
The Beast leaned in to bury his nose in Remus' neck—breathing in the scent he found there and groaning.
He felt the Beast's arousal pressing into his hip.
"She said you would be my weakness…that I wouldn't be able to resist you," the Beast growled. He was clearly struggling with himself—eyeing Remus' lips with that same feral hunger.
"But look at me," he whispered, his breathing becoming erratic. "I've put you in front of me…the ultimate temptation…and I'm resisting."
The Beast ran a fur-covered paw down the side of Remus' face in a caress. "My mate," he whispered, an almost loving tone to his voice.
He stepped back quickly and turned away.
"As if we are both animals," he spat.
"Go," he said, his back still turned to Remus.
"What?" the smaller boy could not contain the distress he felt at those words.
"I said go. You're free."
"But I thought—"
"GO!" the Beast roared.
When Remus did not move, the Beast looked up suddenly, his gray eyes wild with passion.
"Go," he whispered desperately. "Please."
A moment later, the Beast had stormed out—leaving Remus standing alone against the wall of his darkened room.
Remus had not even noticed the fire burn out.
Hours later, when he stalked away from the castle, the snow crunching under his heavy boots, he could not shake the bitter chill he had caught from the dying embers.
He was cold.