Remus was drifting alone in a sea of blackness. There was neither sight nor sound, just a marvellous emptiness that both surrounded and filled him. There was no sense of time or place, only an endless moment of blank wonderment that stretched on for an eternity. He could feel nothing, and that feeling was bliss.
Eventually a voice intruded on his solitude. The voice was quiet, as though muffled by time and distance, and try as he might to resist its call, the voice was insistent, drawing ever closer. He wanted to turn away from the voice, and fade further into the blackness, but something inside him reached out to it, pulling it closer, seeking to hear what it had to say.
The voice was Severus, and Severus was calling his name. He sounded worried, frantic even, and Remus was confused. Could he not see how peaceful it was here amidst the blackness? There was nothing to fear and no need to sound so terribly worried.
Remus became aware of a bitter taste in his mouth; a harsh burning liquid that crept its way past his tongue and down his throat, brutally reminding him that he still had both body and flesh. The darkness began to fall away and Remus cried, reaching out for it. It had been such a beautiful darkness.
"Wake up!" Severus's voice demanded, far too near and almost unbearably loud. Remus felt a sharp blow to his face, the pain breaking through the numbness of his flesh and drawing him closer to awareness.
"Damn it, Remus, wake up!" Severus demanded again.
"I'm sorry..." Remus murmured, his own voice sounding distant and disconnected, the words slipping past his lips through no consciousness of thought.
"Good." The relief in Severus's voice was evident, even through the fog that shrouded Remus's mind. "Stay awake. You have to stay awake."
The cold metal rim of a goblet was pressed against Remus's lips and he swallowed automatically as the bitter liquid spilled into his mouth. Immediately the world began to solidify around him again as feeling rushed back into his limbs. Remus thought that he must have fallen from the roof, as nothing else could have made every inch of his body hurt so terribly. It felt as though fire was coursing through his veins.
"Ouch," he complained, once the goblet had been withdrawn and he could speak.
"Yes, I would think so," Severus said, sounding relieved. "Damn you. I said three drops..." His voice trailed and after a moment he asked sharply, "Are you awake?"
"Yes, damn it," Remus growled. How could he be expected to sleep, when every part of him ached and Severus wouldn't give him a moment's peace? He couldn't understand what the man was even doing here, it made no sense. Perhaps he really was asleep, and this was all some kind of bizarre dream.
"That was a damned fool thing to do," Severus said harshly. Remus forced his eyes open and saw that Severus was glaring at him darkly. Yes, he must truly be here. Even in his dreams, Remus couldn't simulate that kind of glare.
Remus came to realise that he was lying on the floor, and that Severus was hovering over him, his face set in a bizarre mixture of concern and fury. He still wasn't certain what was going on, but knew that it couldn't be good. "What are you doing here?" he asked weakly.
"I am trying to keep a stupid werewolf from killing himself," Severus said disdainfully.
What? That made no sense. Of course Remus hadn't tried... The earlier events of the night came flooding back. "No!" Remus yelled. He tried to push himself to his feet and fumbled for his wand. "Sirius is here! He's in the castle and he has the knife!"
Severus took away the wand and grabbed his face firmly with both hands, forcing Remus to look into his eyes. "No. He's not. He's gone," he said slowly, enunciating every syllable.
"Gone," Remus repeated disbelievingly. No, Sirius would never truly be gone. Even when he was still safely locked away in Azkaban he had haunted Remus's every step.
"Yes, he's gone," Severus promised. "We searched the entire castle."
Gone. If only it could be true. The temporary energy his fear had lent him faded quickly, and Remus collapsed against Severus's chest, not fighting the darkness when it rose up to claim him once more.
------
Remus woke slowly. It was like swimming out of the depths of a dark lake; despite his efforts to fully waken, he rose slowly towards consciousness, not certain that he would ever reach the surface. His head ached fiercely and his thoughts seemed mired in mud. This was undoubtedly the worst hangover he had ever experienced, and worse, he had no memory of having gotten drunk the night before. In fact, he could remember nothing of the previous night's events.
Groaning hoarsely, he raised his leaden arm and rubbed wearily at his sleep crusted eyes. What in the hells had happened to him? He felt as though he had been beaten by a troll, or perhaps trampled by a herd of rampaging hippogriffs.
"I see that you are finally awake," a tired voice, that seemed laced with disgust, snapped at him from only a few feet away.
The unexpected voice broke through the last of the haze surrounding Remus's mind and he jerked upright, reaching instinctively for his wand and feeling a brush of panic when he could not find it. His eyes focused on the dark figure seated in a chair beside his bed and he relaxed slightly. "What the hell are you doing here, Snape?" he growled.
At some point during the night, Severus had moved the chair that normally rested near the fireplace into the bedroom, and had placed it beside Remus's bed. He was reclining in it, in a position that looked half posed and half sprawled. "The headmaster asked me to stay and be sure that you didn't die in your sleep," he said, sitting up and offering a sneer that was quite ruined by the yawn he was unable to fully suppress.
Remus rolled from the bed, putting its bulk between them, and glared at Severus. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, even as the hint of a memory tingled at the back of his mind.
"I suppose you wouldn't," Severus said, standing and straightening his robes, "as you were even more incoherent than usual at the time. You were in no condition to be left alone, and as the headmaster had much more important matters to attend to, the task fell to me." His tone turned scornful. "I would have been content send you to the hospital wing and let Pomfrey deal with you, but the headmaster seemed to think it would be detrimental to the students' moral if they knew that one of their professors had tried to kill himself."
"Kill myself?" Remus repeated incredulously. "I did no such thing. I simply--"
"Simply drank an entire vial of sleeping potion -- which might as well have been poison -- for the fun of it?"
"That's not fair..." Remus protested weakly.
"No! It wasn't fair!" Severus yelled, his mask of disdain faltering. "I came here to tell you that the castle had been searched, and found to be safe. Your door was warded ten different ways and you wouldn't answer. It took the combined efforts of both myself and the headmaster to break through, and when we found you lying there on the floor with that vial... I thought you were dead!"
The strength flowed out of Remus's legs and he sank back down onto the bed, his back to Severus. The previous nights' memories returned in a rush, and all he could think to say was, "I'm sorry."
"Stop saying that you're sorry and tell me why!" Severus demanded.
"Why," Remus said softly. "Why, you ask. What is it that you want to hear? That I'm sick of hiding what I am, because I know that I'll be cast aside as soon as anyone finds out? That I'm sick of living in fear -- every damned second -- that Sirius is going to reappear? That I'm sick of hating myself?" Suddenly angry, he stood and rounded the bed, stalking towards Severus.
"Is that what you want to hear?" Remus demanded. "Is it? Do you think you can fix that? Can you go whip up some potion to make all my problems vanish? No. You can't! So please, if you don't fucking mind, just get the hell out of my room." He turned his back on him, but the small measure of relief he felt at the sound of the opening door was destroyed by Severus's parting words.
"I'm certain that the headmaster will wish to speak with you quite soon." Remus did not notice the tinge of sadness that laced Severus's words.
"It was a complete accident, I assure you," Remus said, taking a cautious sip of his tea. The tea tasted strange, as though it had been laced with something more than milk and sugar. A calming draught, perhaps? He looked up, not quite meeting the headmaster's eyes. "During the excitement of last night, I must have simply forgotten Professor Snape's instructions about the potion."
-----
Dumbledore's invitation to tea, though politely worded, had carried the strong hint of command, and Remus had been unable to delay the meeting. He had hoped to be able to put it off until after the full moon when -- though the stresses of transformation would weaken his body -- his mind would be more clear. Already he could feel the song of the moon coursing through his veins and his mind cried out against it, even as a deeper, more primal part of his soul reached out to embrace it. The duality of his feelings left him shaken and on edge, and he knew that his temper could snap if he were pushed too far.
As though sensing the fragility of Remus's hard won control, Dumbledore smiled benignly and said, "Severus did not seem to think that it was an accident."
"Severus was wrong," Remus snapped. Taking a deep breath, he modulated his tone and said, "I'm terribly sorry for the trouble that it caused you both, and I can assure you that it will not happen again."
"I did not ask you here to reprimand you," Dumbledore said placatingly. "I was concerned for your well being. Are you certain that you are quite all right?"
Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "The antidote that Severus gave me seems to have done its job," he said cautiously. "Other than feeling somewhat tired, I cannot see that there have been any lasting side effects."
"That was not entirely what I meant," Dumbledore said seriously, "though it is indeed reassuring to see that you have recovered. Please know that you can speak to me about anything."
For a brief moment, Remus was tempted. It would be a great relief to be able to share his fears and worries with another person. But that relief would be short lived, when he found himself once more without a job. Hard won experience had taught him that no one truly wished to hear of your problems, they only sought reassurance that the problems themselves did not exist. Schooling his face into a mask of sincerity, he said, "I will keep that in mind, sir, but for now...there is nothing I need to speak of."
"Of course," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "Do remember that my door is always open. But for now, I assume that you have preparations that you need to make for tonight."
Placing his tea cup on a low table, and murmuring a few quick words of farewell, Remus beat a hasty retreat from the headmaster's office. The meeting had gone more smoothly than he had feared it would, but as always, he left with the uncomfortable feeling that more had been said, than had actually been spoken. He could clearly see that Dumbledore had not believed his half-hearted explanations, but if the man was willing to let it drop for now...he would not complain.
Shortly after he returned to his quarters, a house-elf appeared with his final dose of the Wolf's Bane potion. Somehow the potion managed to taste even more foul than it had previously. After drinking the potion, and returning the goblet via the same house-elf, Remus paced his rooms, awaiting sunset and the rise of the moon. This would be his first transformation under the influence of the potion, and he had absolutely no idea what to expect.
Intellectually he knew that his mind would remain unchanged, even as his body changed into that of the beast. But what would that be like? A man, trapped in the body of a wolf, forced to remain and bear witness as he was transformed into the monster that he so hated.
Always before, his memories had faded with the setting of the moon, and his mind had remained untainted by the foul changes his body had undergone. He had been left with nothing more than fleeting senses of power, strength, and a lust for blood. What if those urges still remained, even with his mind still firmly in place? What if the monster was not the beast, but the man, and his transformations had always been nothing but a reflection of the darkness he carried inside?
Remus froze and stared out the window at the darkening sky. The moon was rising...