"Without Nuances" by Ohnann, March/July 2005

Disclaimer: HP (c) J.K. Rowling. Not me.

Summmary: It's the morning after the first transformation Remus spent with Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. Needless to say, he's happy. Very, very happy. MWPP-era. Remus-centric. Fluff.

Without Nuances

Something must have changed, he thinks. Something fundamental. Some underappreciated entity must have swooped down in the midst of the wee hours and decided to sanctify the lucky few trawling the Hogwarts grounds with some life quality. Surely, the morning air did not use to be that crisp, surely the birds sang prettier than ever before?

The grass is damp and cold through the worn soles of his shoes, the sky is pink and bright and hurting his eyes, and every little muscle anywhere is strained and sore, but nothing of that matters anymore, because it's not entirely unpleasant, no, not any of it, not any more; not all the time.

He still can't understand it. Though just an hour before, he'd seen it with his own eyes. There had been fur, and tails and teeth and antlers… They had made it; they had become animals to support his animal and he truly cannot believe it, even though he's just spent hours and hours with the three of them, with their animals, and yes; it had worked. When the moon had pulled back and released him, he had been able to walk out of the Shack with his bones aching but fairly correctly readjusted, his skin tingling but unbroken and his mind rattled but in one place.

There is a grin on his face so huge his jaw is aching, but he'd gladly keep smiling forever. Without warning, he stops in the middle of the dewy lawn and stretches leisurely, allowing the other boys to catch up with him. "You don't have to walk so fast – " Sirius begins, but Remus cuts him off with a shrug and a roll of the eyes, and he widens his already almost impossibly wide grin because it is almost not painful anymore and he feels intoxicated and impious and positively in love with all of them.

When the laughter has faded into a grin again, he wants to assume the walk to the castle again, because he's somehow gained an entire day, and surely there must be a lot of fun to do, surely there must be something he's missed all those days he's spent in the infirmary… but none of the other boys seem to be in a hurry.

Sirius runs around in circles around Remus, closer and closer, face turned upward to the sky and the rising sun; Peter is pulling up grass and throwing it around like confetti, and James is flailing his arms and singing and jumping up and down, and when Remus moves, his tattered robes snake around his ankles and trip him over and he suddenly finds himself facedown in dew and grass and a frog, and he laughs. Apparently, he's not going anywhere.

He laughs until his sides are numb and tears pool in the corners of his eyes and he thinks he might just die if he can't have a good scream.

And he sees no reason why he should kick the bucket just yet, so he screams; "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He pushes himself up onto all fours and arches his neck and opens his eyes wide and rolls them back until he can see nothing except a few fuzzy hairs of his own eyebrows and it takes him a moment to realise that he's almost howling and when he finds that out he just laughs even more.

Hagrid storms out of his hut, in a gigantic bathrobe and with a razor in one hand, looking around wildly. Remus tries to stand up to greet him, but James's arms are suddenly around his knees and he falls forward again, and Peter showers him with grass and Sirius lets out a howl of his own, and Remus definitely, indisputably, for eternity, names this the Best Day of his Life.

Fin

A/N: Written in about two minutes in an attempt to create an air of sheer happiness. Therefore, this story contains overly long sentences and a blatant overuse of italics, semicolons and commas. It's supposed to be like that. As for the title; I was going for happiness – no nuances, just… happiness. Happy, happy, happy. Period.

Thanks for reading.

ohnann at kittymail dot com