Chapter Five: Transformation
Lupin awoke the morning of the following Saturday feeling exhausted and rather sick to his stomach. He rose weakly from the bed and went into the bathroom just off his bedroom.
"Good morning, Remus," he said to his reflection. "Don't you look like death warmed over."
"Actually," said the mirror, "you don't look all that bad, but you might consider that it's a sign of encroaching madness, talking to a mirror."
Lupin rolled his eyes and felt a wave of nausea pass through him. He swallowed against the urge to vomit; if he vomited, it only left him weaker for when the transformation did come.
The familiar chiming of his pocket watch-which was on his nightstand table- announced it was time for another dose of Wolfsbane Draught. He grunted and loped over to his chest of drawers and carefully opened the top drawer, where a small row of flasks rested, corks tightly pressed into them. He withdrew one, noticing that he'd need to replenish his supply before next month, and dreading the moment when he had to confront Severus Snape and ask-no, beg, because Snape would surely make him do that-for more of the potion.
He uncorked the flask and downed the contents, swallowing hard against another roiling of nausea. It was always harder to get the potion down on the last day. He would take two other doses, one right around lunchtime and another dose in the early evening, at dusk. Just before sunset. Before the full moon rose...
And then he would change. Sirius would know of it; he would come quietly to Lupin's room and come inside, transformed into the black dog. They would stay together for a while, in companionable silence, a dog and a wolf, until such time that Lupin became tired and fell asleep, waiting for the morning, when he would awake on the floor, naked but covered with the blankets left by Sirius.
Lupin shuddered and wiped at his sweaty brow with his sleeve, then picked up his water glass from the nightstand table and drained it, trying to wash from his palate the dreadful, sour taste of the Wolfsbane Draught.
Today he would help with the house-cleaning. Or house purging, as Sirius called it. The house, having been uninhabited for so long, had become filthy, a nest of growing things, of molds and spores and bugs. Lupin had learned early on that many of the objects inside were enchanted; they had never been able to remove those howling portraits of Sirius's relatives from the walls; Sirius insisted that his mother had put them up with Permanent Sticking Charms before she'd died. Other objects were equally determined not to be discarded.
Lupin returned to the sink, splashed water on his face and made a half- hearted attempt to shave, then realized he might as well wait until tomorrow. He dressed, pulling on shabby trousers, whose knees were worn so thin they would rip any moment. A t-shirt that had once been white but had gone grey with hundreds of washings. A drab brown jumper, with one frayed elbow. He combed his hair, which was getting to be longer than he liked, but he couldn't afford a haircut at the moment. Molly had offered, but Bill quickly warned him away from that ("She'll cut it so short you look like a porcupine; she's still on me to cut mine."). He pulled on his shabby robes- which were no longer even close to the black they had once been but were faded charcoal grey-slipped on a pair of Oxfords, whose soles were separating just slightly from the uppers, and left the room.
He rounded the corner and collided with Nymphadora Tonks.
"Oh!" she said, startled. "Remus. Hi!"
"Hello, Tonks," he said, his voice a bit weaker than usual. Perhaps it was because he felt so wretched this morning, but she looked even lovelier than usual. Her hair was short again, but this time it was light blue. Her cheeks were pink, possibly from climbing all those stairs up to the third floor. Her eyes were sparkling. Lupin immediately wished he had a bag over his head, to hide how terrible he looked.
"Are you all right?" said Tonks, concern etched in her features. "You don't look so good." She reached up and put a hand on his forehead. "You feel a bit warm."
Lupin felt suddenly dizzy, and he knew it wasn't just because he was ill. He wished she wouldn't touch him. Her touching him made him feel funny. Her touching him reminded him of the past. Of what it felt like to be touched by a woman.
He put his hand round her wrist and gently lowered it even as he smiled at her. "I'm quite all right," he lied. "I'm just very tired. I've-"
"Been ill," said Tonks, eyeing him doubtfully. "Yeah, you told me. Maybe you should, you know, go back to bed."
"I'll be fine," said Lupin stiffly. "Really."
"If you say so," she said, but she didn't look convinced.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"Oh, just popped in to give Molly a hand. Apparently there's something in one of the toilets up here. You haven't heard anything weird, have you?"
"Oh, no," said Lupin.
"Anyway, I'm supposed to help Harry with that one," she said. "Molly says there's this clock downstairs that's throwing bolts at people. Maybe you could deal with that."
"I think I can handle it, yes," said Lupin, smiling at her.
"You're...sure you're okay?" she said.
"Yes," said Lupin firmly, wishing fervently she'd stop asking him this. Wishing she didn't look so very lovely, so very concerned for him. Wishing she'd touch him again.
"Hi, Professor Lupin," said Harry. Lupin turned and gave Harry a weak smile. Harry gave him a significant look; he knew what was what. He knew what Lupin would be doing tonight.
"Hello, Harry," said Lupin, grateful that Harry betrayed nothing to Tonks. "I hear you're about to tackle a scary toilet."
"Yeah," said Harry. "Tonks and me."
"Well," said Lupin, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gazes of both Harry and Tonks, "I think I'll go see what's what with that renegade clock."
He nodded to them both and started down the stairs, not looking back. He felt his knees shaking beneath him and realized he needed to eat something, even though his stomach was roiling and the thought of food repelled him. But without food he wouldn't make it through the day. He gripped the railing of the staircase as he started gingerly down the stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three hours later Lupin felt slightly better, but not by much. As the day wore on and the time drew nearer, he felt his feverishness being replaced by an exhaustion so complete that he knew he'd have to lie down soon, or risk passing out where he stood. He'd solved the problem with the clock well enough, and Molly, sensing at once that he was not all himself, sent him upstairs with a tray full of food and orders to eat up. Sirius pulled him aside just long enough to mutter that they'd see each other later.
Lupin was grateful for the reprieve, even if he resented not being able to help further. The house-cleaning needs were so vast that every available hand was crucial, and yet his condition prevented him from being of much use. He dragged himself to the third floor, carrying the tray carefully in one hand, moving at a snail's pace.
He was just turning the corner to his bedroom when he collided with Tonks for the second time that day.
The tray flipped out his hand as he reached out to catch her, and sandwiches and pumpkin juice went flying. In short order Lupin and Tonks were covered in condiments and juice.
"BUGGER ALL!" Tonks yelled. "Stupid clumsy git!"
"Forgive me-" Lupin began.
"I'm talking about me!" she said angrily, peeling a slice of mustard-coated bread from her robes; a huge mustard stain stayed behind. "Bloody hell. I can't even walk two feet without creating a disaster."
She grabbed a napkin that had fallen to the floor and started wiping pumpkin juice and mustard from the front of her robes.
"Shit," she said, rolling her eyes. "Look what I did. Made a mess of your lunch."
"It's all right," Lupin said weakly.
"It's not all right," said Tonks savagely, running an angry hand through her blue hair. "What's wrong with me, anyway? I mean, why's it so hard for me to do something right? Can't do a bloody thing without making a mess. Inconveniencing people."
As he stood there, watching her curse at herself, he felt at a loss. She was so upset that he saw to his horror that tears were in her eyes.
"Tonks, please don't," he said, taking a step toward her. "It's just food. We...we can clean it up."
Tonks laughed bitterly and blinked several times.
"Really, Tonks, it's...not a problem," he said. "I can get more sandwiches."
"I know," she said dully. "I just...I wish I didn't keep bumping into you. You must get tired of catching me all the time."
She looked up at him and smiled sheepishly.
Lupin felt a smile on his lips, even as his exhaustion threatened to do him in on the spot.
"I don't mind," he said softly. "It's rather like...catching a damsel in distress." Heat rushed to his face, his neck, his ears. What the hell?
"You mean a damsel who CAUSES distress, more like," said Tonks, giggling softly. "I think I ought to come with a warning label on my forehead. In fact, I think I'll make one now." She closed her eyes tightly and screwed up her face again, and suddenly words-in bright blue-popped out on her forehead.
WARNING: STAND CLEAR
Lupin laughed out loud, Tonks laughed with him. And then a wave of dizziness overtook him. He blinked and stumbled, and this time, it was Tonks reaching out to catch him.
"Remus!" she cried. "What...are you okay?"
Lupin blinked and looked at her; he knew his face was flushed. He was breathing in short gasps. The chiming of his pocket watch-now fastened loosely to his trousers-reached his ears.
"I'm...fine," he said quickly. "I just need...potion." He started to walk, unsteadily, ignoring the mess of sandwiches and pumpkin juice at his feet, on his clothes. He had to get to his bedroom, had to take his potion.
"I'll help you," said Tonks quickly, and she put an arm round his waist, draped his arm over her shoulder.
"No, Tonks," he protested weakly, wishing she'd go away, leave him alone. She shouldn't see him like this. She couldn't know...
"Rubbish," said Tonks. "I might be clumsy but you can hardly stand up!" She half-dragged him to his room, and once inside she started to steer him toward his bed, when he resisted.
"No," he said weakly. "Dresser..."
"But Remus-"
"Please, I need...my potion," he said. He started toward the dresser, feeling a small surge of renewed strength, ignoring the fact that she was still trying to turn him toward his bed.
"I need it!" he said in a louder voice, pulling her with him. Still she held back.
"Remus-"
"Let go!" he snarled, shrugging her off. She gasped and stumbled back, but Lupin didn't see her. He didn't see anything, he needed it. Needed the potion now. His pocketwatch was still chiming...
He had the flask in his hand; he yanked out the cork with his teeth and spat it away from him, where it landed on a windowsill. He poured the contents of the potion down his throat...
His breathing slowed. His throat stopped working. His vision cleared. He was sweating, he was exhausted.
He blinked several times and opened his eyes, then turned, and felt his stomach drop.
Tonks was standing not six feet from him. There were tears staining her porcelain cheeks; the words on her forehead were still visible beneath her blue fringe of hair. She was trembling. She looked frightened. She looked hurt.
Lupin swallowed a lump in his throat. "Tonks. Dear god, I'm...I'm sorry..." he whispered, taking a step toward her.
She backed away, shaking her head, and stumbled again, but caught herself.
"Tonks, please," Lupin begged, but she was afraid of him now. He had frightened her.
"I have to go," she said quickly, and she backed out of the room, stumbling again but not falling.
"Tonks, wait," Lupin pleaded, holding up his hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
But she was already out of the room. And already she was far away from him, in more ways than one. And it was entirely his fault.
His fault, and the fault of his condition. He closed his eyes as a wave of fury coursed hotly through his veins, and with a grunt he hurled the empty flask against the near wall, where it shattered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was dusk. Lupin downed the final flask of potion and waited. He was naked beneath the blankets. He'd learned long ago that transformations ruined clothing; as he was very limited when it came to his wardrobe, he had resorted to
removing all traces of clothing from his body in preparation for the changes his body was about to go through.
Sirius was nearby, sitting quietly, saying nothing, sending glances his way now and again. As an Animagus Sirius had never had any need to strip down to the altogether in order to transform.
"I heard about what happened earlier," Sirius said. "With Tonks."
"How quickly news travels in this house," said Lupin darkly.
"Why haven't you told her?"
"Because she doesn't need to know," Lupin snapped.
"So it's all right with you that you've gone and frightened her?"
"Of course it's not all right!" Lupin barked, but then his shoulders caved in, defeated. "You should have seen her face, Sirius. She was crying. Terrified. I did that. I made that happen."
"She'd understand if you told her," said Sirius firmly. "She's tougher than she looks, is Tonks."
"Yes, she looked like a pillar of strength today when I frightened her half to death," Lupin said bitterly.
"She's afraid of the unknown," said Sirius. "Like the rest of us. But if you told her, if you explained it, she'd understand."
"She might," said Lupin. "For now. But how many times will she take me losing my temper at her? You can stand it because you're used to it. But Tonks?" He sighed and closed his eyes, already feeling the imminence of what was to come.
"It's all neither here nor there," said Lupin sadly. "If Tonks was remotely interested in me before she's surely written me off now. I made sure of that. Forget about it, friend. She's better off, anyway, not knowing me."
"It's a bloody shame you feel that way," said Sirius, shaking his head.
"Yes, well..." Lupin's voice trailed off. Pale, milky moonlight was filtering into the room. His eyes darted to Sirius. It was time.
"I'm here," said Sirius. Lupin nodded, and he felt it starting. The bones in his back lengthening, his hands changing, the fur growing, his legs trembling, his voice leaving him, words deserting him.
"L-lock...d-door," he managed, and he let out a sharp breath as his mind changed...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Primal, but quiet. No fear, but no reason. Instinct, not logic. Hungry. He was hungry. He was hot beneath these blankets. He needed food.
He leapt off the bed, leaving the blankets in a heap, and his eyes darted round the room. The black dog was there, circling, looking wary but not unfriendly. The wolf sniffed the air, stuck out his tongue as though to taste it. The dog barked, a friendly bark, and jerked its head.
The wolf watched as the dog trotted toward the corner of the room. The wolf followed, the smell of meat assaulting his nostrils. Food was close. Water...
The dish was there, as it always was. Full of cool water. He lapped it up thirstily, then attacked the pieces of raw, bloody meat on the platter next to the dish. The dog sat back on its haunches, watching him. But the dog did not eat. The dog never ate with the wolf. The food was the wolf's and the wolf's alone.
The wolf and the dog gamboled about the room together for a time; they wrestled and played as canines do, but there was no menace, no violence. The wolf felt very calm, his belly full of meat. He looked outside the window and felt a kind of tug; he wanted to go outside, but not that badly. He trotted round the room, sniffing at the floor, at every corner. He came along some rags on the floor and sniffed at those; human scent. Familiar human scent. He knew this human quite well, who wore these things that were now lying on the floor. He sniffed at the shoes. Old shoes. A part of him wanted to chew the shoes. He liked to chew.
The dog gave a deep bark and curled up next to the fireplace. The wolf barked back in reply, and strolled lazily to the window, his eyes looking up. He was staring at a bright thing, a round thing, up in the black sky. It mesmerized him. He threw back his head and howled at it. For some reason he really needed to do that. He howled again.
He liked this bright round thing. He wished it were a ball he could play with, or an animal he could chase. Did he chase animals? Not anymore; meat was always there for him. But he must have chased animals at one time. He was sure he had.
He howled again. His ears pricked as the sounds came back to him. There were others out there, like him. Howling like him at the big shiny ball in the sky. He wondered what they looked like, what they smelled like, but for some reason he didn't feel much like wandering outside to find out. Outside things were probably very interesting, but inside it was warm and peaceful and there was always meat for him and water and this nice black dog who kept him company.
He turned to the black dog, who was lying on its side, observing him. The wolf trotted over to the fireplace, feeling suddenly very tired. Wolves sleep a lot, and he needed to sleep. He curled up next to the black dog; doing this always comforted him. He leaned his head down and looked into the fire. It was pretty but not as nice as the big shiny ball in the sky. His eyes felt heavy. The fire was popping. He felt the black dog next to him, breathing. The wolf closed his eyes at last, and slept.
Lupin awoke the morning of the following Saturday feeling exhausted and rather sick to his stomach. He rose weakly from the bed and went into the bathroom just off his bedroom.
"Good morning, Remus," he said to his reflection. "Don't you look like death warmed over."
"Actually," said the mirror, "you don't look all that bad, but you might consider that it's a sign of encroaching madness, talking to a mirror."
Lupin rolled his eyes and felt a wave of nausea pass through him. He swallowed against the urge to vomit; if he vomited, it only left him weaker for when the transformation did come.
The familiar chiming of his pocket watch-which was on his nightstand table- announced it was time for another dose of Wolfsbane Draught. He grunted and loped over to his chest of drawers and carefully opened the top drawer, where a small row of flasks rested, corks tightly pressed into them. He withdrew one, noticing that he'd need to replenish his supply before next month, and dreading the moment when he had to confront Severus Snape and ask-no, beg, because Snape would surely make him do that-for more of the potion.
He uncorked the flask and downed the contents, swallowing hard against another roiling of nausea. It was always harder to get the potion down on the last day. He would take two other doses, one right around lunchtime and another dose in the early evening, at dusk. Just before sunset. Before the full moon rose...
And then he would change. Sirius would know of it; he would come quietly to Lupin's room and come inside, transformed into the black dog. They would stay together for a while, in companionable silence, a dog and a wolf, until such time that Lupin became tired and fell asleep, waiting for the morning, when he would awake on the floor, naked but covered with the blankets left by Sirius.
Lupin shuddered and wiped at his sweaty brow with his sleeve, then picked up his water glass from the nightstand table and drained it, trying to wash from his palate the dreadful, sour taste of the Wolfsbane Draught.
Today he would help with the house-cleaning. Or house purging, as Sirius called it. The house, having been uninhabited for so long, had become filthy, a nest of growing things, of molds and spores and bugs. Lupin had learned early on that many of the objects inside were enchanted; they had never been able to remove those howling portraits of Sirius's relatives from the walls; Sirius insisted that his mother had put them up with Permanent Sticking Charms before she'd died. Other objects were equally determined not to be discarded.
Lupin returned to the sink, splashed water on his face and made a half- hearted attempt to shave, then realized he might as well wait until tomorrow. He dressed, pulling on shabby trousers, whose knees were worn so thin they would rip any moment. A t-shirt that had once been white but had gone grey with hundreds of washings. A drab brown jumper, with one frayed elbow. He combed his hair, which was getting to be longer than he liked, but he couldn't afford a haircut at the moment. Molly had offered, but Bill quickly warned him away from that ("She'll cut it so short you look like a porcupine; she's still on me to cut mine."). He pulled on his shabby robes- which were no longer even close to the black they had once been but were faded charcoal grey-slipped on a pair of Oxfords, whose soles were separating just slightly from the uppers, and left the room.
He rounded the corner and collided with Nymphadora Tonks.
"Oh!" she said, startled. "Remus. Hi!"
"Hello, Tonks," he said, his voice a bit weaker than usual. Perhaps it was because he felt so wretched this morning, but she looked even lovelier than usual. Her hair was short again, but this time it was light blue. Her cheeks were pink, possibly from climbing all those stairs up to the third floor. Her eyes were sparkling. Lupin immediately wished he had a bag over his head, to hide how terrible he looked.
"Are you all right?" said Tonks, concern etched in her features. "You don't look so good." She reached up and put a hand on his forehead. "You feel a bit warm."
Lupin felt suddenly dizzy, and he knew it wasn't just because he was ill. He wished she wouldn't touch him. Her touching him made him feel funny. Her touching him reminded him of the past. Of what it felt like to be touched by a woman.
He put his hand round her wrist and gently lowered it even as he smiled at her. "I'm quite all right," he lied. "I'm just very tired. I've-"
"Been ill," said Tonks, eyeing him doubtfully. "Yeah, you told me. Maybe you should, you know, go back to bed."
"I'll be fine," said Lupin stiffly. "Really."
"If you say so," she said, but she didn't look convinced.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"Oh, just popped in to give Molly a hand. Apparently there's something in one of the toilets up here. You haven't heard anything weird, have you?"
"Oh, no," said Lupin.
"Anyway, I'm supposed to help Harry with that one," she said. "Molly says there's this clock downstairs that's throwing bolts at people. Maybe you could deal with that."
"I think I can handle it, yes," said Lupin, smiling at her.
"You're...sure you're okay?" she said.
"Yes," said Lupin firmly, wishing fervently she'd stop asking him this. Wishing she didn't look so very lovely, so very concerned for him. Wishing she'd touch him again.
"Hi, Professor Lupin," said Harry. Lupin turned and gave Harry a weak smile. Harry gave him a significant look; he knew what was what. He knew what Lupin would be doing tonight.
"Hello, Harry," said Lupin, grateful that Harry betrayed nothing to Tonks. "I hear you're about to tackle a scary toilet."
"Yeah," said Harry. "Tonks and me."
"Well," said Lupin, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gazes of both Harry and Tonks, "I think I'll go see what's what with that renegade clock."
He nodded to them both and started down the stairs, not looking back. He felt his knees shaking beneath him and realized he needed to eat something, even though his stomach was roiling and the thought of food repelled him. But without food he wouldn't make it through the day. He gripped the railing of the staircase as he started gingerly down the stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three hours later Lupin felt slightly better, but not by much. As the day wore on and the time drew nearer, he felt his feverishness being replaced by an exhaustion so complete that he knew he'd have to lie down soon, or risk passing out where he stood. He'd solved the problem with the clock well enough, and Molly, sensing at once that he was not all himself, sent him upstairs with a tray full of food and orders to eat up. Sirius pulled him aside just long enough to mutter that they'd see each other later.
Lupin was grateful for the reprieve, even if he resented not being able to help further. The house-cleaning needs were so vast that every available hand was crucial, and yet his condition prevented him from being of much use. He dragged himself to the third floor, carrying the tray carefully in one hand, moving at a snail's pace.
He was just turning the corner to his bedroom when he collided with Tonks for the second time that day.
The tray flipped out his hand as he reached out to catch her, and sandwiches and pumpkin juice went flying. In short order Lupin and Tonks were covered in condiments and juice.
"BUGGER ALL!" Tonks yelled. "Stupid clumsy git!"
"Forgive me-" Lupin began.
"I'm talking about me!" she said angrily, peeling a slice of mustard-coated bread from her robes; a huge mustard stain stayed behind. "Bloody hell. I can't even walk two feet without creating a disaster."
She grabbed a napkin that had fallen to the floor and started wiping pumpkin juice and mustard from the front of her robes.
"Shit," she said, rolling her eyes. "Look what I did. Made a mess of your lunch."
"It's all right," Lupin said weakly.
"It's not all right," said Tonks savagely, running an angry hand through her blue hair. "What's wrong with me, anyway? I mean, why's it so hard for me to do something right? Can't do a bloody thing without making a mess. Inconveniencing people."
As he stood there, watching her curse at herself, he felt at a loss. She was so upset that he saw to his horror that tears were in her eyes.
"Tonks, please don't," he said, taking a step toward her. "It's just food. We...we can clean it up."
Tonks laughed bitterly and blinked several times.
"Really, Tonks, it's...not a problem," he said. "I can get more sandwiches."
"I know," she said dully. "I just...I wish I didn't keep bumping into you. You must get tired of catching me all the time."
She looked up at him and smiled sheepishly.
Lupin felt a smile on his lips, even as his exhaustion threatened to do him in on the spot.
"I don't mind," he said softly. "It's rather like...catching a damsel in distress." Heat rushed to his face, his neck, his ears. What the hell?
"You mean a damsel who CAUSES distress, more like," said Tonks, giggling softly. "I think I ought to come with a warning label on my forehead. In fact, I think I'll make one now." She closed her eyes tightly and screwed up her face again, and suddenly words-in bright blue-popped out on her forehead.
WARNING: STAND CLEAR
Lupin laughed out loud, Tonks laughed with him. And then a wave of dizziness overtook him. He blinked and stumbled, and this time, it was Tonks reaching out to catch him.
"Remus!" she cried. "What...are you okay?"
Lupin blinked and looked at her; he knew his face was flushed. He was breathing in short gasps. The chiming of his pocket watch-now fastened loosely to his trousers-reached his ears.
"I'm...fine," he said quickly. "I just need...potion." He started to walk, unsteadily, ignoring the mess of sandwiches and pumpkin juice at his feet, on his clothes. He had to get to his bedroom, had to take his potion.
"I'll help you," said Tonks quickly, and she put an arm round his waist, draped his arm over her shoulder.
"No, Tonks," he protested weakly, wishing she'd go away, leave him alone. She shouldn't see him like this. She couldn't know...
"Rubbish," said Tonks. "I might be clumsy but you can hardly stand up!" She half-dragged him to his room, and once inside she started to steer him toward his bed, when he resisted.
"No," he said weakly. "Dresser..."
"But Remus-"
"Please, I need...my potion," he said. He started toward the dresser, feeling a small surge of renewed strength, ignoring the fact that she was still trying to turn him toward his bed.
"I need it!" he said in a louder voice, pulling her with him. Still she held back.
"Remus-"
"Let go!" he snarled, shrugging her off. She gasped and stumbled back, but Lupin didn't see her. He didn't see anything, he needed it. Needed the potion now. His pocketwatch was still chiming...
He had the flask in his hand; he yanked out the cork with his teeth and spat it away from him, where it landed on a windowsill. He poured the contents of the potion down his throat...
His breathing slowed. His throat stopped working. His vision cleared. He was sweating, he was exhausted.
He blinked several times and opened his eyes, then turned, and felt his stomach drop.
Tonks was standing not six feet from him. There were tears staining her porcelain cheeks; the words on her forehead were still visible beneath her blue fringe of hair. She was trembling. She looked frightened. She looked hurt.
Lupin swallowed a lump in his throat. "Tonks. Dear god, I'm...I'm sorry..." he whispered, taking a step toward her.
She backed away, shaking her head, and stumbled again, but caught herself.
"Tonks, please," Lupin begged, but she was afraid of him now. He had frightened her.
"I have to go," she said quickly, and she backed out of the room, stumbling again but not falling.
"Tonks, wait," Lupin pleaded, holding up his hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
But she was already out of the room. And already she was far away from him, in more ways than one. And it was entirely his fault.
His fault, and the fault of his condition. He closed his eyes as a wave of fury coursed hotly through his veins, and with a grunt he hurled the empty flask against the near wall, where it shattered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was dusk. Lupin downed the final flask of potion and waited. He was naked beneath the blankets. He'd learned long ago that transformations ruined clothing; as he was very limited when it came to his wardrobe, he had resorted to
removing all traces of clothing from his body in preparation for the changes his body was about to go through.
Sirius was nearby, sitting quietly, saying nothing, sending glances his way now and again. As an Animagus Sirius had never had any need to strip down to the altogether in order to transform.
"I heard about what happened earlier," Sirius said. "With Tonks."
"How quickly news travels in this house," said Lupin darkly.
"Why haven't you told her?"
"Because she doesn't need to know," Lupin snapped.
"So it's all right with you that you've gone and frightened her?"
"Of course it's not all right!" Lupin barked, but then his shoulders caved in, defeated. "You should have seen her face, Sirius. She was crying. Terrified. I did that. I made that happen."
"She'd understand if you told her," said Sirius firmly. "She's tougher than she looks, is Tonks."
"Yes, she looked like a pillar of strength today when I frightened her half to death," Lupin said bitterly.
"She's afraid of the unknown," said Sirius. "Like the rest of us. But if you told her, if you explained it, she'd understand."
"She might," said Lupin. "For now. But how many times will she take me losing my temper at her? You can stand it because you're used to it. But Tonks?" He sighed and closed his eyes, already feeling the imminence of what was to come.
"It's all neither here nor there," said Lupin sadly. "If Tonks was remotely interested in me before she's surely written me off now. I made sure of that. Forget about it, friend. She's better off, anyway, not knowing me."
"It's a bloody shame you feel that way," said Sirius, shaking his head.
"Yes, well..." Lupin's voice trailed off. Pale, milky moonlight was filtering into the room. His eyes darted to Sirius. It was time.
"I'm here," said Sirius. Lupin nodded, and he felt it starting. The bones in his back lengthening, his hands changing, the fur growing, his legs trembling, his voice leaving him, words deserting him.
"L-lock...d-door," he managed, and he let out a sharp breath as his mind changed...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Primal, but quiet. No fear, but no reason. Instinct, not logic. Hungry. He was hungry. He was hot beneath these blankets. He needed food.
He leapt off the bed, leaving the blankets in a heap, and his eyes darted round the room. The black dog was there, circling, looking wary but not unfriendly. The wolf sniffed the air, stuck out his tongue as though to taste it. The dog barked, a friendly bark, and jerked its head.
The wolf watched as the dog trotted toward the corner of the room. The wolf followed, the smell of meat assaulting his nostrils. Food was close. Water...
The dish was there, as it always was. Full of cool water. He lapped it up thirstily, then attacked the pieces of raw, bloody meat on the platter next to the dish. The dog sat back on its haunches, watching him. But the dog did not eat. The dog never ate with the wolf. The food was the wolf's and the wolf's alone.
The wolf and the dog gamboled about the room together for a time; they wrestled and played as canines do, but there was no menace, no violence. The wolf felt very calm, his belly full of meat. He looked outside the window and felt a kind of tug; he wanted to go outside, but not that badly. He trotted round the room, sniffing at the floor, at every corner. He came along some rags on the floor and sniffed at those; human scent. Familiar human scent. He knew this human quite well, who wore these things that were now lying on the floor. He sniffed at the shoes. Old shoes. A part of him wanted to chew the shoes. He liked to chew.
The dog gave a deep bark and curled up next to the fireplace. The wolf barked back in reply, and strolled lazily to the window, his eyes looking up. He was staring at a bright thing, a round thing, up in the black sky. It mesmerized him. He threw back his head and howled at it. For some reason he really needed to do that. He howled again.
He liked this bright round thing. He wished it were a ball he could play with, or an animal he could chase. Did he chase animals? Not anymore; meat was always there for him. But he must have chased animals at one time. He was sure he had.
He howled again. His ears pricked as the sounds came back to him. There were others out there, like him. Howling like him at the big shiny ball in the sky. He wondered what they looked like, what they smelled like, but for some reason he didn't feel much like wandering outside to find out. Outside things were probably very interesting, but inside it was warm and peaceful and there was always meat for him and water and this nice black dog who kept him company.
He turned to the black dog, who was lying on its side, observing him. The wolf trotted over to the fireplace, feeling suddenly very tired. Wolves sleep a lot, and he needed to sleep. He curled up next to the black dog; doing this always comforted him. He leaned his head down and looked into the fire. It was pretty but not as nice as the big shiny ball in the sky. His eyes felt heavy. The fire was popping. He felt the black dog next to him, breathing. The wolf closed his eyes at last, and slept.