Chapter 8-
The Lupin Homestead
Rugby, England
I woke up, startled.
I had dreamed about the movie. It had been so powerfully written, even able to imprint itself in my mind. And that scene.
One of the most powerful scenes in the movie.
Not only was the wolf a separate creature sharing his mind and body, but it was jealous.
In love- and loathing. So jealous of Remus's choice that he did everything in his power to hurt Lupin.
To the point where suicide had been the only answer.
But no. Wolves are clever.
It took control. Hurt him more, just for being in love.
And worse, he kept him alive.
But worst of all, he kept him from even having a moment to tell Sirius the truth.
"I like Breaking Pretty Things."
It did. The wolf was evil.
Probably still is. I'm not sure.
Lupin's a brave guy for living with it.
I wonder if I could. Probably not.
Smells so good. like home. it's warm.
The bike lands. I don't want to get up.
Black's still jealous. When I don't get up, he grabs my shirt collar and pulls me off, tossing me aside.
I wake up. Dammit.
"Get off him." Black growls.
"Aw, it was fine, Siri."
He looked hurt. Like Lupin had just kicked a puppy. Or him. Fucking animagi. "But, Remus, I thought-"
"I'm not going to shag a student."
"Of course you're not!" I yelled back.
Black didn't look so sure, but he went into the house anyway.
It was a decent house, actually. I wonder.
"Any house elves?"
Lupin was aghast. "Of course not! If only I could afford-"
Ah. Good news. "Fine."
Lupin cleared his throat "So. How long do you plan to stay?"
"Um. No longer than necessary." No house elves? FOREVER! "Couple of days. Four at most, I'd say?"
"Okay. Do you still need help with that essay you asked about?"
Magic bag. Pull out text books. "Definitely."
He led me in.
Shock. Black was lying on a afghan over the couch, sleeping. The room was neat, cozy even. Couple of armchairs, soft carpet, walls painted a deep red that made the slightly large room seem comfortably small, Black's couch, blankets and pillows over all the furniture, some nice pictures hanging on the walls.
It wasn't the appearance that was shocking.
The smell. The faint blood smell that lingered in the air. After that, the cozy living room took another turn. The red carpeting that was just right shade to match dried blood. The walls that matched it. The blankets and afghans that covered the furniture.
What had gone on here? Don't ask.
He takes me upstairs. "You can have this room. Sorry about the decorations."
Sorry didn't cover it. Pink. The walls were light pastel pink. The bed sheets were pink, to match the Muggle princess style canopy bed, pink ruffles lacing the sides. Teddy bears, fluffy pillows, flower wall paper borders along the top of the walls, pictures of unicorns and kittens and the like.
Shit. This was a fucking little girl's room.
"No fucking way."
"Well, Sirius has the other guest room." Please. The man spent twelve years in a prison cell, then two on the run. He probably felt uncomfortable in a bed.
"He looks content on the couch."
"He is."
"Let him sleep there. I'll take the other room."
Lupin's face betrayed some implacable emotion. "Okay."
Nod. Smile. Walk down hall. Lupin runs back to lock the door.
Opens the one I'm now in front of.
This room hasn't been touched in thirty years. Oh, it's been cleaned. But nobody's slept in it for that long. You could feel it in the air. The age, the stale taste, the pain.
This room was so much different from the princess's. The walls were painted a light brown, almost a cream color. The rough carpet was a darker color. The bed sheets were a color that matched the carpeting, as did the drapes. There were no pictures on the walls. The only furniture was the bed, old clothes stacked neatly in a corner next to a stack of books. This room had the complete opposite of the beautiful happy princess room.
This room was depressing. Whoever lived here probably cried themselves to sleep nightly in the twin bed, trying to figure out why they didn't even rate a picture on the wall.
"How could anyone live like this?" This was a room for someone hated. Someone meant to be tormented even in their dreams. Someone to be tortured. Someone unwanted.
It hit me then. This room had belonged to Lupin as a child.
"My parents took everything away when I got bit. They kept the bed so I wouldn't die from the original wounds, but turned it dark. As if to hide me. No toys, a few clothes. I fought hard for the books as I got older. Christmases and birthdays were horrible. Sometimes I would get a book, but usually all I got were old, torn clothing and some snacks. Being a werewolf hurts, Draco- And not just because of the transformations."
It all clicked. Lupin's choice of patchy clothing- he'd been raised to think he didn't deserve better. The older and more torn, the better for him. The way he was so skinny, his parents probably hadn't fed him right as a child. Maybe he ate once or twice a week, maybe less. He probably still ate very little, and rarely, but combined with the wolf's metabolism. It would explain it.
And I hated Lucius, who let those damnable elves spoil me and bought me whatever I wanted to avoid raising me when all I'd wanted was fatherly love.
Cruel. But I wonder what happened to the little girl?
"Make yourself at home."
"Sure." Pause. ".Professor?"
He turned from the door. "Yes?"
"What happened to the girl?"
He looked hurt. "She died. A long time ago."
"Oh." Nerve. Don't pry.
Lie back. He leaves. Grab a year from the magic bag.
The Lupin Homestead
Rugby, England
I woke up, startled.
I had dreamed about the movie. It had been so powerfully written, even able to imprint itself in my mind. And that scene.
One of the most powerful scenes in the movie.
Not only was the wolf a separate creature sharing his mind and body, but it was jealous.
In love- and loathing. So jealous of Remus's choice that he did everything in his power to hurt Lupin.
To the point where suicide had been the only answer.
But no. Wolves are clever.
It took control. Hurt him more, just for being in love.
And worse, he kept him alive.
But worst of all, he kept him from even having a moment to tell Sirius the truth.
"I like Breaking Pretty Things."
It did. The wolf was evil.
Probably still is. I'm not sure.
Lupin's a brave guy for living with it.
I wonder if I could. Probably not.
Smells so good. like home. it's warm.
The bike lands. I don't want to get up.
Black's still jealous. When I don't get up, he grabs my shirt collar and pulls me off, tossing me aside.
I wake up. Dammit.
"Get off him." Black growls.
"Aw, it was fine, Siri."
He looked hurt. Like Lupin had just kicked a puppy. Or him. Fucking animagi. "But, Remus, I thought-"
"I'm not going to shag a student."
"Of course you're not!" I yelled back.
Black didn't look so sure, but he went into the house anyway.
It was a decent house, actually. I wonder.
"Any house elves?"
Lupin was aghast. "Of course not! If only I could afford-"
Ah. Good news. "Fine."
Lupin cleared his throat "So. How long do you plan to stay?"
"Um. No longer than necessary." No house elves? FOREVER! "Couple of days. Four at most, I'd say?"
"Okay. Do you still need help with that essay you asked about?"
Magic bag. Pull out text books. "Definitely."
He led me in.
Shock. Black was lying on a afghan over the couch, sleeping. The room was neat, cozy even. Couple of armchairs, soft carpet, walls painted a deep red that made the slightly large room seem comfortably small, Black's couch, blankets and pillows over all the furniture, some nice pictures hanging on the walls.
It wasn't the appearance that was shocking.
The smell. The faint blood smell that lingered in the air. After that, the cozy living room took another turn. The red carpeting that was just right shade to match dried blood. The walls that matched it. The blankets and afghans that covered the furniture.
What had gone on here? Don't ask.
He takes me upstairs. "You can have this room. Sorry about the decorations."
Sorry didn't cover it. Pink. The walls were light pastel pink. The bed sheets were pink, to match the Muggle princess style canopy bed, pink ruffles lacing the sides. Teddy bears, fluffy pillows, flower wall paper borders along the top of the walls, pictures of unicorns and kittens and the like.
Shit. This was a fucking little girl's room.
"No fucking way."
"Well, Sirius has the other guest room." Please. The man spent twelve years in a prison cell, then two on the run. He probably felt uncomfortable in a bed.
"He looks content on the couch."
"He is."
"Let him sleep there. I'll take the other room."
Lupin's face betrayed some implacable emotion. "Okay."
Nod. Smile. Walk down hall. Lupin runs back to lock the door.
Opens the one I'm now in front of.
This room hasn't been touched in thirty years. Oh, it's been cleaned. But nobody's slept in it for that long. You could feel it in the air. The age, the stale taste, the pain.
This room was so much different from the princess's. The walls were painted a light brown, almost a cream color. The rough carpet was a darker color. The bed sheets were a color that matched the carpeting, as did the drapes. There were no pictures on the walls. The only furniture was the bed, old clothes stacked neatly in a corner next to a stack of books. This room had the complete opposite of the beautiful happy princess room.
This room was depressing. Whoever lived here probably cried themselves to sleep nightly in the twin bed, trying to figure out why they didn't even rate a picture on the wall.
"How could anyone live like this?" This was a room for someone hated. Someone meant to be tormented even in their dreams. Someone to be tortured. Someone unwanted.
It hit me then. This room had belonged to Lupin as a child.
"My parents took everything away when I got bit. They kept the bed so I wouldn't die from the original wounds, but turned it dark. As if to hide me. No toys, a few clothes. I fought hard for the books as I got older. Christmases and birthdays were horrible. Sometimes I would get a book, but usually all I got were old, torn clothing and some snacks. Being a werewolf hurts, Draco- And not just because of the transformations."
It all clicked. Lupin's choice of patchy clothing- he'd been raised to think he didn't deserve better. The older and more torn, the better for him. The way he was so skinny, his parents probably hadn't fed him right as a child. Maybe he ate once or twice a week, maybe less. He probably still ate very little, and rarely, but combined with the wolf's metabolism. It would explain it.
And I hated Lucius, who let those damnable elves spoil me and bought me whatever I wanted to avoid raising me when all I'd wanted was fatherly love.
Cruel. But I wonder what happened to the little girl?
"Make yourself at home."
"Sure." Pause. ".Professor?"
He turned from the door. "Yes?"
"What happened to the girl?"
He looked hurt. "She died. A long time ago."
"Oh." Nerve. Don't pry.
Lie back. He leaves. Grab a year from the magic bag.