Chapter 11

But…
The way of love
Is so fragile…

Last night…

I held you not so close to me
Being only half convinced
That you were where you wanted to be

You held me in a half sure way
Sensing my indecision

- Leonard Nimoy [The Tree of Us]

In the moment it took for the door to open, Rose had already convinced herself that she was quite wrong about the whole situation. Already she was preparing for the embarrassment of finding a very ill Lupin on the other side of his door, shocked and annoyed that she had chosen to visit him so late at night and had barged into his private rooms without knocking. She'd already come up with her excuses, that Harry Potter had told her Snape was poisoning him, that, yes, it was quite ridiculous, but he had begged her to come check on him. That she hadn't been able to until now because of Snape teaching classes and her own herbology lesson. Had already rehearsed in her head the sweet smile she would give him and the tone of voice she'd use to say, 'I was worried about you, Professor' in order to get out of trouble.

All of these things flitted through Rose's head as she stepped into the soft warm glow of the firelight in Lupin's rooms and they all died as she saw what was laying on the couch. A large wolf was curled there in a sleepy mass. Everything she knew about werewolves went through her mind in that moment—their shorter snouts, their tufted tails, their thirst for human victims, how some upon being bitten would beg to be allowed to die rather than to live on as a werewolf. Rose clutched her wand tighter, her knuckles white as she stared at the beast, her heart beating wildly in her ribcage. 'He's had his potion,' she thought to herself, 'he won't attack me.' Would he not though? Upon discovering she had found out his secret? She remembered the words of Professor Picardy in his book Lupine Lawlessness who claimed a werewolf's bite took all sense of morality away from a person; how they became nothing more than a beast disguised in human flesh.

Rose shuddered. And she must have made some noise when she did so because the werewolf raised its sleepy head and glanced her direction. They both froze as their eyes met and the werewolf quickly got to its feet, jumped down from the couch, and backed up against the far corner. Rose could see now the way its fur coat was the same brown and gray coloration as Lupin's own hair. She could see, even from this distance the smaller pupiled more human eyes of the werewolf's face. Blue eyes that looked just like Lupin's. It was unnerving and slightly nauseating to see his eyes looking back at her from the face of a wolf. And its eyes were large and terrified, continuing to flit between her face and her wand. Rose stepped forward towards the center of the room and the werewolf pushed back into the corner, its tail between its legs, trembling.

This shocked Rose, who had expected to be the far more scared one in this situation. He was the werewolf after all, not her. Yet he was clearly so terrified of her being there that it melted her anger. Setting her wand on the coffee table and her bag on the floor, Rose took a seat on the couch, her eyes never leaving the werewolf. Rose was confident enough in her use of wandless magic that she thought she could recall her wand to her hand and defend herself if the creature became hostile. The wolf seemed to have had the same thought as it continued to shake slightly.

"Will you knock it off," Rose said at last, her voice laced with annoyance. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The trembling calmed slightly but it stayed in the corner, tail tucked between its legs. Rose ran a hand through her hair, sighing. The situation was so like one she could picture with Lupin—his ability to completely turn the tables on her, that it had completely disarmed her and left Rose confused as to why she was here and how she felt about the situation.

"Potter was worried about you, you know. Thought Snape was poisoning you," Rose chuckled. The sound of her voice and laughter seemed to be calming to the werewolf. "It got me thinking of the potion again, and we were harvesting wolfsbane tonight in the greenhouses—you know, the night of the full moon. Wasn't so hard to put together."

The werewolf tilted its head and, if possible, gave her an almost sarcastic look. As if to say, 'oh, how nice for you to be so clever.' Rose laughed again, beginning to relax though her heart was still racing. There seemed to be some level of amusement on the werewolf's part—on Lupin's part, as well. He had untucked his tail and stepped tentatively forward towards the fire again. Locking eyes with her, he gestured his nose towards the door.

"Oh, you want me to leave?" Rose asked and the werewolf nodded its shaggy head. Rose's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "No, I don't think so."

The werewolf looked quite surprised and affronted at this blatant refusal before glaring at her.

"Don't give me that look. If I leave, I have a suspicion that you'll be gone in the morning. And I'd like the chance to talk you out of doing anything stupid." Rose told him; her chin raised imperiously. The wolf continued to glare at her for a while before hesitantly laying back down on the rug. Rose shuffled through her bag, pulling out the small book of poetry Lupin had given her. Leaning back, she propped her legs on the coffee table and began to read. After a while, Rose found that her eyes were refusing to take in the words on the pages in front of her, and she glanced up to find that Lupin was still watching her nervously, his head settled on his large paws.

"Can't sleep either?" she asked, and amusement flickered across his blue eyes again at her conversational tone. Rose patted the cushion of the couch invitingly and he cocked his head at her skeptically as if to say, 'you can't be serious'. "If you come over here, I'll read you something. Come on Remus, you're making me anxious with that wounded puppy thing you're doing."

Hesitantly the Lupin-wolf padded across the rug to the couch. Rose tried not to show how much she regretted her words as she watched the huge claws glint in the firelight and the powerful muscles of the werewolf ripple beneath its fur coat. She thought that maybe he could hear how her heart sped back up because he paused, glancing at her, and Rose smiled, patting the couch again. Lupin put two paws on the couch and pulled himself slowly onto it as if afraid he'd startle her by moving too quickly. He curled slightly back into himself—his hind legs and tail at the far side and his head facing the fireplace. He laid his head on his front paws that dangled partially off the front of the couch. Lupin was trying hard not to touch her, but they barely fit on the couch together and the fur of his shoulder and neck brushed her thigh.

In a moment of what Rose could only assume was temporary insanity, she reached out a trembling hand and ran it through the fur of his neck. She could feel him tense under her touch, his ears were laid flat back against his head, and he was watching her carefully out of the corner of his eyes. Taking her hand back, Rose flipped mindlessly through the pages of the poetry book before settling on a random one. Clearing her throat, Rose felt silly as she began to read a poem to a werewolf.

"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,

"I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."

Even though her voice had trembled slightly in the reading, the words seemed to have calmed Lupin. When she finished, he was staring into the fire, a look of utter melancholy on his face. Rose carefully closed the old book and set it on the table. She let her hand run through his fur again, enjoying the softness of it this time. She could almost hear Lupin's sad voice asking, 'I have spread my dreams under your feet, Rose, how will you treat them?' She could sense the gears turning in his head, could picture the scenarios he was running through. Thinking of how this was his last night in the castle, how, in the morning, she would tell everyone that he was a werewolf. How he would be forced to leave Hogwarts when he had just begun to relax and enjoy himself. His patchy robes and undernourished appearance the first time she'd met him made sense to her now. 'He must live his life in constant fear of the day his secret is discovered, and he is forced to once again pick up and leave,' she thought, in an unexpected moment of empathy. Something in her stomach curled in deep pity and sadness for the man.

"You know... what I said when we first met: 'Never forget I'm on your side.'" Rose said, and Lupin tilted his head to look at her better. "I still mean it."

The words seemed to have a profound effect on him, and he nuzzled his snout into the side of her thigh, his eyes tightly closed. Though no moisture leaked from his eyes, Rose had the distinct impression that he was crying. She let her head fall back to rest on the back of the couch, her fingers holding his fur tightly, trying to keep tears from welling up in her own eyes. A small part of herself arched a brow in annoyance—Malfoys didn't cry for werewolves, and they certainly didn't practice blind loyalty to a bad investment. But another larger part of herself was just tired and, letting her eyes close, Rose fell asleep.

She awoke to a pained whine emanating from the werewolf. She jumped up off the couch as its back arched and paws scratched convulsively. Rose watched in subdued horror as the werewolf began to change back into the form of a man. Bones cracked and reset, skin stretched and shrank, joints reversed, and fingers grew. As the wolfish whines of pain changed into recognizably human shouts of agony, the hair on the deformed creature's skin seemed to pull back into the flesh and the snout and ears shrank back into a recognizable face. Lupin lay on the couch panting in exhaustion, his body covered in sweat and tears running down his face. Rose's cheeks turned slightly pink at his very naked body, and she quickly pulled her robe off and threw it over him, trying not to look too long at his bare chest or let her eyes travel any lower.

"Rose," Lupin managed to say in a hoarse whisper, sitting up slightly before vomiting on the floor. Rose, who was not a healer and did not want to be a healer watched this happen with a look of mild disgust. Picking up her wand, she vanished the bile. Remus, who had managed to sit up by now, let his head fall back against the couch, eyes closed against the vertigo of his brain processing the change of vision from a werewolf's to a human's. He clutched Rose's robe tightly around his body and was shivering as if in the midst of a fever.

"You look awful," Rose said, and though she had meant it to be a teasing remark, it came out sounding far too sincere. Lupin did in fact look terrible; the worst she had ever seen him. Huge shadows were present under his eyes, his skin was the color of old parchment, and his scars stood out vividly all over his body. Managing to crack an eye open, Lupin looked at her, a weak smile crossing his face.

"Now you know why I wanted you to leave. Didn't want you to see me without my usual dashing good looks," his tone was joking even though his voice still sounded like it hadn't been used in years. Rose managed to return his smile feebly. As Lupin tried to stand and failed, Rose put her arm beneath his and helped him get to his feet. He leaned heavily on her as they walked into his bedroom. Rose left him at the door to the bathroom and returned to the living area to give him some privacy.

"You can come in now," he said after a few minutes. When she walked in, Rose saw he was sitting up in bed, propped against some pillows, a loose-fitting night shirt covered his torso and the rest of him was tucked under his duvet. It looked like he had washed his face and brushed his hair back from his eyes, but he looked no less exhausted. Lupin gestured tiredly at her robe which lay folded at the end of his bed. Rose picked it up and held it against her chest, looking at the floor, the wall, the stitching on the duvet cover, anywhere but at the exhausted sickly-looking Lupin. She was waiting for him to shout at her, to tell her off for coming into his private rooms. It had been much easier to mouth off to a trembling werewolf last night than it was to mouth off to a Remus Lupin who looked like he might expire on her at any moment.

"It was something James would have done. He could never leave a mystery alone either." Lupin said, and Rose met his gaze at last. She found she couldn't be mad at him for bringing James up when he looked as pathetic as he did.

"I'm sorry I intruded on your privacy, Professor."

"No, you're not," Lupin chuckled softly, and Rose blushed.

"No," she agreed at last. "I'm not."

In a strange reversal of the previous night, Lupin patted his bed in invitation. Rose sat hesitantly, one leg tucked under her, one dangling half off the edge as if ready to flee at any moment. The two observed each other for a while in silence.

"How are you still here, how are you not disgusted or terrified of me?"

"I was disgusted and terrified." Rose shrugged honestly. "But you looked so scared yourself…."

They lapsed back into silence, and Rose fidgeted with the hem of her skirt.

"Do you want me to send for breakfast?" She asked.

"I doubt I could keep anything down right now," Lupin shrugged apologetically. "I usually sleep most of the day following a transformation."

"I can leave you to do that then," Rose said immediately, moving to stand, but Remus caught her hand in his own, his thumb tracing over her knuckles affectionately. She looked at him in surprise. His tired eyes were filled with a melancholy gratitude.

"Thank you," he told her, and Rose laughed at the unexpected words.

"For what?"

"For being on my side." Rose's heart did a somersault in her chest, and she squeezed his hand affectionately.

"Goodnight, Remus," she whispered, dropping his hand, but the man had already fallen asleep. Leaning over, she brushed the hair out of his eyes, quickly turning to leave. Picking up her bag, Rose quietly let herself out of his office.

'Well played,' said the calculating voice in her head, 'he would do anything for you now.' Rose brushed the thought aside. She didn't want a devoted servant. She especially didn't want that from Remus Lupin. 'Then what do you want from him,' the voice in her head asked, and Rose didn't know how to answer that question. All she could think about was the way his hand had felt in hers and how very sad and tired his eyes looked.

When she arrived back in the Slytherin common room there were only a handful of students milling about. Most had braved the stormy weather to attend the Quidditch match. Wandering up to her dormitory, Rose suddenly realized how tired she was. When she walked in, Mariko was sitting in front of the vanity they shared, brushing out her long black hair. Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror, and Mari raised one delicate eyebrow curiously.

"Where were you last night?" She asked, her voice deceptively uncaring.

"Hospital wing, something at dinner upset my stomach." Rose replied nonchalantly and flopped down on her bed. Pulling the comforter up to her nose, she closed her eyes and tried to quiet the cacophony of thoughts swirling in her mind. She just wanted to sleep.