Title: AWAHW – Chapter 3 – Moony Plays

Author: Nijijin

Rating: R

Pairing: Light SS/RL, NL/DM/HP

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me…but aren't they so much fun to borrow?

Feedback: Phffft...whatevahs, brah.

Notes: In Chapter 3 of his book, Severus discovers Moony's inner cub.

Spoilers: Some…but mostly post war speculation.

Squeak

I refuse to look.

Squeak, Squeak

You shall not have your way this time, mongrel.

Squeak, Squeak, SQUEEEEEEAK

"You know, unlike some beasts of my unfortunate acquaintance, I have rather a great deal of work to…oh no…Moony…DON'T…NO, NO! I forbid you to put that smelly, slimy, germ-infested thing in my la...UGH! Oh that's it! Where is my wand!"

Any comprehensive research project should include extensive interviews with the test subject(s). It should be mentioned that I am not fond of using the term "test subject" with regard to Lupin/Moony and shall likely explain in another chapter. Suffice it to say, I have interviewed Remus quite a number of times over the course of the school year.

As we became more accustomed to each other, I was able to ask more revealing questions, to which Remus volunteered more illuminating details about himself and Moony. A few months ago, I was quite surprised when Lupin admitted that in some ways he rather enjoyed being Moony. I had always assumed that he loathed every aspect of the werewolf…of the disease. When asked to elaborate, his response was one word…play.

Lupin reminded that society frowns upon a thirty-something year old man, especially in a position of authority, who likes to play for the sake of playing. While somewhat acceptable when participating in an organized sport, even then, there comes a time when an older man is thought to be making a pathetic attempt at recapturing his golden youth.

Yet, when Moony plays, the perception is quite different. He is simply a captivating furry creature following his instincts. He cannot help himself. Humans seem to think animals look "adorable" when they are rolling about, jumping around, or simply running amok.

Students will stare at their DADA Professor while he plays catch with an apple, thinking it odd behavior for a "grown-up." Moony, on the other hand, can run after a stick to his heart's content, while humans say "awwwwww, that's just so cute."

I should note that on the occasions that I have observed Moony chasing rabbits or field mice he has never once killed, injured or captured one. I do not doubt he is quite capable of doing so, for he has vividly proven the ability during the war. Moony enjoys the excitement of the chase and that is all.

When Lupin admitted to this secret pleasure, I decided to test Moony, for research purposes, of course. So, on the first night of the next full moon, as we prepared to make use of the secret passages, I tugged on the familiar tuft of silver fur. I could not help smirking when the wolf glanced up at me.

"I have something for you."

His panting stopped, head tilted and ears perked to attention as I pulled the "actual size" (the salesperson assured me) rubber toad from my robes and tossed it before the beast.

Squeak

Repeatedly, the massive head swiveled down to look at it, then up to me, and back down. Tentatively he stepped a paw on it.

Squeak

The tail of destruction began to wag as he stepped on the chew toy again and again, causing the abominable noise to continue. This was not turning out as I had planned. He was supposed to be insulted by the gesture, not thrilled.

Suddenly, the mangy beast dropped down on his forelegs. His disturbingly happy rump, stuck up in the air, wiggled at an alarming rate. Moony began nosing the toy before snapping it up in his huge jaws.

Squeak…squee…squee…squee…squeeeeeeeak

"Moony…"

Squee…Squeak…Squee…Squeak…"

"Moony, do stop…"

Squee…Squee…Squeak…Squeak…Squee…Squee…"

"Moony, that…that wasn't morse code…"

"SQUEEEEEEAK…SQUEEEEEEAK!"

"MOONY! DROP THAT BLOODY THING THIS INSTANT!"

With a quick toss of his head, the rubber toad came to a slathering, resounding, splat/squeak before me. Of course, not before wolf sputum was flung across the front of my robes and half the room.

To this day I wonder what in Merlin's name possessed me to do it.

I suppose there are some positive outcomes. I have learned quite a number of new cleaning spells. Slippers, scarves and corners of seat cushions are no longer found mysteriously mangled. Moony does get to indulge his play urges. However, one is often led to believe that providing playthings will keep children and animals occupied enough to leave one alone.

It is a blatant and cruel lie. If anything, it causes the little monsters to pester even more. As evidenced by the drenched, dirt, stick and leaf encrusted blob now in my lap.

With a sneer, I lifted it distastefully with my thumb and forefinger. I readied myself to launch into a fine tirade about this being serious work with no time for frivolous and meaningless play. My darkened gaze caught Moony's and I held my breath.

He was not looking at the toy at all. The werewolf was staring at me with such a look of…peace, contentment and underlying anticipation. It was the same look I received this morning from the man who was playing catch with his orange. I sighed, pulled my arm back as far as possible and flung toy Trevor as far as I could. Never mind feeling wet droplets as I did so.

Squeak…Squeak

"Well, you utter pestilence, go fetch."