A.N:none of the characters belong to me, the central background plot isn't mine either, this is just an elaboration on personal views of what certain characters felt towards the end of DH. Don't sue. ENJOY.
THE CHOICES WE MAKE: Howling wolf
Did we lose ourselves again?
He walked alone in the dark streets in London on a cold, bitter October night, pelted by the icy wind, much too unusual for this time of the year.
His back was hunched, his gait stiff in a way that spoke of a great pain, his movements slow as though with old age, his balls deeply fisted in his robes' pockets.
The full moon was approaching.
That usually meant that his body would refuse to co-operate on even the smallest of tasks, and made any type of movement awkward and painful; it was something he'd been used to suffering for most of his life, so it didn't affect him all that much.
But the wolf had been deeply offended and had risen out of the inner darkness like a wild, savage thing, ready to rip all and sundry apart.
It had tasted challenge and blood and craved it.
The closer it got to the full moon, the harder it became for man to control the wolf, which felt the Goddess' calling on its flesh and rebelled against the human subconscious cage with renewed ferocity.
Becoming furious certainly didn't seem to be helping.
A couple of Muggle kids shuffled around the corner, reeking of cheap beer and cigarette smoke, their garish clothes stained with the substances they'd been taking.
They couldn't have been much younger than … him, yet he couldn't imagine … him…going out on a night dressed like them, much less drinking and smoking like it were the coolest thing to do.
The wolf leered at the smallest one, a pretty little blonde with too much make-up who didn't smell of alcohol as much as the male, but had evidently had more than her fair share of cigarettes. The smell of alcohol, smoke and cheap perfume wafted around her in an unpleasant cloud, but her neck looked very delicate and supple, and sure enough, just under the skin, a vein pulsed strongly with hot, young blood, on a rush from the good time she must have just had …
It became difficult for him not to wander over and chat her up, get her away from the male, then have his way with her, bit into that pale neck, and taste the freshness of her young blood, mark her with the affliction he'd been suffering from the age of seven …
A deep growl made its way past his lips from somewhere deep in his chest, and the young couple stopped short, surprised from the sound, and wary. His eyes flashed gold when the light form a lamppost struck them, and they hurried down the road at a frightened pace, staggering into a club where seedy loud music blared through the exit.
He chuckled darkly as he stared in their wake, half-disappointed half-wistful.
Silly children, he thought, if he had really wanted them, nothing short of a full team of Aurors' Stunning Spells could have stopped him from taking them.
Harry wouldn't have run like that. He would have stood proud, like James, and faced me like a man.
The thought alone brought anew a tide of rage that swept through his mind, and he growled again, seeing red.
Damn him, he seethed.
Do we take in what's been said?
Do we take the time to be
All the things we said we'd be?
He had no right to say those things to him!
How dare he call him coward? How dare he say he that – that …ashamed.
And we bury heads in sand
Little runt!
Mangy cur!
A disgrace to his parents' memory!
Ooh, he thought, a spike of guilt slashing through him. Maybe not quite so far. But still.
How dare he?!
"Don't you understand what I've done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her, I've made her an outcast!
You don't know how most of the wizarding world sees creatures like me! Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage … and the child – the child –"
He was sure that some trace of the wolf must have shown on his human face by now, he'd worked himself up into such a rage he'd felt quite deranged, but Harry, Merlin help him – he looked quite angry himself at what he perceived a great injustice to Dora and the baby … he didn't show an ounce of the fear any honest wizard-folk would have displayed by now…seeing an angry werewolf was not a pretty sight, especially when the werewolf in question was usually coolly collected and very mild-tempered.
Hermione was crying by the time he'd vented about the situation he'd got himself and Dora in, not to mention to breed and bring a child into this world with a father like him. But Harry, if anything gave him a look colder than Hogwarts castle in the middle of January.
But my future's in my hands.
It means nothing
It means nothing.
"…I'd be pretty ashamed of him."
A blast, like the sound of cannon sounded in his ears, already deafened by the roaring sound of blood pumping in his veins. An unnatural rage overtook him as the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees, but he wasn't the only one, because Harry, too, was projecting an aura of rage he hadn't seen the likes of ever since Lily had tried to stop Sirius and James from picking on Severus in their fifth year … a memory Harry had seen in Snape's Pensieve, he…Lily's son…
You can find yourself a God
Believe in which one you want
Cuz they love you all the same,
They just go by different names
He, too, was on his feet now, body roiling waves of anger Remus was sure to have never been on the receiving end of, not from James' son, the boy he'd taught in his third year to produce the strongest Patronus charm he'd seen in nearly thirteen years, not the baby boy he'd held and played with when his parents were still alive…how quickly people change … that was the last conscious thought he had before the wolf's rage blanked his mind and pushed forward, intent on hurting, ripping apart, savaging flesh, killing…
When we flyour flag today, are you proud or just ashamed?
"I'd never have believed this – the man who taught me to fight Dementors, a coward."
That was when Remus felt something inside of himself literally snap, and felt a bare moment's regret, but only fleeting.
It means nothing
It mean nothing
It means nothing
It means nothing
It means nothing
The wolf was out.
If I haven't got you
If I haven't got you
If I haven't got you
If I haven't got you.
The next thing he knew was he'd snapped his wand at Harry who, after a loud bang, was lifted into the air and forcefully flew backwards till he hit the kitchen wall behind him. A small part of him had been aghast at what he'd done to Harry, James' son, his cub, but the wolf was past caring now, and he was the out the front door before anyone could so much as sneeze, seeing everything in red, like an angered bull, ready to strike at the foolish matador weaving and dancing in front of him, bandying that cloth in his face, enraging him further.
Remus came around a dark street corner and turned left, easily leaping through traffic and weaving through people walking on the pavement, who were undoubtedly club-hopping from one place to the other.
His line of thought was broken and non-continuous, somewhat disconnected, a dark grimace twisting his features so that if one looked closely, the wolf was very much visible underneath the skin, jumping and dancing, eyes snapping brightly under the lights.
He dares, he dares, the son of my best friend, the boy who could have been my own –
And then Remus snapped back to himself, the wolf clenched under layer upon layer of tight, iron-fisted control, finally back where he belonged every day of every month save the one night when the moon was full.
That line of thought, treacherous and painful as anything had been enough to surprise the man inside and that had been enough to reign in his night-brother, the wolf.
Rubbish, he thought. All that talk about cubs and children and small little boys running around your legs, hoisting themselves onto your lap, just to reach your face and try to gnaw enthusiastically on every available surface of your face …
And the sun sets in the sky
He leaned heavily on the walls of a quiet little pub just opposite one of the designated Apparation Areas scattered around London to aid the wizard or witch who was in a tight schedule and had to avoid the wandering eye of passing, pesky Muggles.
Apparation was the furthest thing from his mind at that moment.
Those memories of a time when his friends were still alive and life was every bit as uncertain as it was now threatened to engulf him, and this time, he let them. Memories of another baby, as precious to him as seldom things had been in his life up to that point…as sacred as his friendships with the lads and Lily…
A baby boy was tottering around the room in a cosy little cottage in Wales, his walking more enthusiastic and energetic than skilled. He was following and laughing with glee a little sparkly butterfly, summoned by James' wand, as it fluttered close to the floor, whizzed past his little head then darted to his left, towards the squashy armchair. James was steering the butterfly here and there, whilst Lily and Peter were busy chatting in the kitchen just off the dining room, undoubtedly discussing how effective spells could in fact be used to break through magic such as Wizard's Oaths, and Unbreakable Vows. Sirius was crouching near the fireplace, ablaze with a warm fire, and Remus was settled not too far from his side, on his stomach on the thick rug, an eager smile on his face as the toddler came closer and closer in a bid to catch the elusive butterfly. Harry's concentration was deep, his focused and determined look an amazing sight to behold on a baby so young. His walking and running may have been somewhat precarious but there was nothing casual about the way his bright eyes followed the butterfly as it flew around the room, nor in the way his arms slithered in the air, fingers just missing the butterfly.
James looked at his son, a warm, gentle look of fatherly pride and devotion the likes of which Remus had never seen on anyone else's face. James chuckled as he and Sirius clapped delightedly when Harry came close to catching the butterfly once more.
He will undoubtedly make an excellent Quidditch player, probably Chaser…Seeker, if I can push it …
The last part he whispered, then quickly swivelled his head around to the door to make sure Lily was still in the kitchen preparing tea. His wife did not appreciate his talk of how Harry would live his student years when it was time for him to go off to Hogwarts … it was almost as though she didn't approve of her son getting up to exploits like he, Remus, Sirius and Peter had done in their days.
Harry was still completely focused on catching the little butterfly, so much so, that he didn't see where he was headed until it was too late.
With a startled gasp and an outrageously surprised look on his babyish face, he tripped over Remus' wrist and toppled right into his arms, which were quick to catch him and protectively cradle him against a powerful chest.
He gently up-righted him and set him on his feet, but made no move to let him go. Harry squirmed to get away and begin his butterfly pursuit again, but the minute Remus blew gently on his little face and their eyes met, Harry was still.
You're the apple of my eye,
Remus felt once more a painful tug at his heart as his amber eyes stared deep into pools of green, a pair of eyes filled with the purest love he had ever seen directed at him. He gently tickled the tiny body resting in his big hands, making the boy squirm in delight, a tinkling laugh lilting in his ears.
Harry launched himself forward and wrapped his little arms around Remus' neck, slobbering over his throat with a childish, rendering display of affection and deep trust – a baby kiss.
"Munny!"
His face broke into the gentlest of smiles, tears threatening to fall from his overemotional eyes as he lovingly bent his head to stare down into the little face below him.
Puppy, he thought.
My precious cub. Moony loves you, puppy. Moony loves his Harry-cub very much.
If the bomb goes off again
In my brain or on the train
Real tears spilled onto his chilled cheeks, instantly cooled by the icy breeze sweeping the street.
Well I hope that I'm with you
Cuz I wouldn't know what to do
My puppy, he thought.
What has happened to us all, Harry? Where is the heroic, loving, trusting little boy I have known for so long, and admired and taught and protected and loved for so long? What did this wretched war do to him?
It means nothing
It means nothing
It means nothing
It means nothing
It means nothing
But in his mind, clear as day, came unbidden the image of the man that Harry was becoming.
And what of you, Moony? Where has my brave Moony gone?
If I haven't got you
If I haven't got you
If I haven't got you
If I haven't got you
Remus staggered as he Apparated to his house, tears still making their way on his tired, pale face. A small part of him felt rebellious and belligerent for the way he'd been treated, and the things Harry of all people had said to him, but most of all, he felt betrayed and hurt at the way Harry had looked at him. Sure they were having a confrontation...a heated argument...a vicious row, but he'd never thought he'd see his Harry look at him with so much anger, so much hate, so much disappointment. A sinking feeling in his stomach made him feel on the verge of tears again, and his hands actually tremebled.
I've hurt him, haven't I?
It was all too much for him, and the next morning he would still be angry, would still feel betrayed, and somewhat guilty in realising that not once had his hurt been projected towards hurting Dora and their child...but Harry was family too. He'd been family to Remus the day he saw him, shrivelled and wailing his head off in the Maternity Ward in St. Mungo's, seventeen years before. Remus saw Harry as the manifestation of a love he hadn't been able to dote on anyone, the link to his lost childhood friends, something good and decent in his life, much deeper and older than the love - for that was what it was - he now shared with Dora.
When he went inside he immediately set out for his bed and collapsed heavily on the quilts, clothes and all, feeling drained and lost.
A.N: there you have it, please let me know what you think, I don't know if this will be Remus' last chapter - I have grown increasingly fond of him during the last few months, and am still in tears when I think that he was killed - because I find I can write him in a way I really like, especially how I think he feels about Harry. REVIEW!! And look back in the next couple of days for more, I'm feeling extremely inspired at the moment, which is auspicious.
A great thanx to SableGloom, my anime fiend, great supporter of this fic - she gave me the hint on the title of the story! Rock on!
Ja ne!