Disclaimer: Do I look like J K Rowling?
AN: A Reemie fic! Don't you think Reemie's so wonderful? Read and review!
"Harry, don't trust him!"
Oh no, here we go…
"He's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead!"
Yes, this is it coming now, I'm sure…
"He's a werewolf!"
That usually precedes my exit from the speaker's life. Excellent. Just brilliant. I wonder how she found out.
Of course, this isn't the first time…
Four-year old Remus Lupin collapsed on the floor of the cellar. His first full moon. He'd never felt any pain like it. He dragged himself towards the door of the cellar, and got about halfway towards the door before his whole body suddenly gave up. Greyness, the colour of a werewolf's fur, invaded his vision, everything he could hear seemed muffled and he fainted spectacularly…
When he came round, his mother was leaning over him.
"Remus," she whispered urgently, "you've got to leave. Someone's worked out that you're a werewolf. You have to run. If they find you, they'll kill you. Run!"
Remus stumbled out of his house, his mother's tears mingling with his own.
They'd found out, and they'd kill him if they could. Echoes from the village floated to his ears.
"…werewolf…"
"…can't trust them…"
"… get away…"
"…away… werewolf… away…"
The boy lurched across the hills. He was fleeing for his life, although in twenty years, Hogsmeade wouldn't remember the little boy who left so suddenly…
The kind priest looked benignly at the little five-year old orphan. "Would you like to carry the silver candlesticks?"
Remus Lupin flinched ever so slightly at the word 'silver', but nodded eagerly. He couldn't do much else.
The priest noticed the movement, but didn't mention it. He handed the boy the candlesticks. Remus almost dropped them.
The silver burned into his hands and he bit his tongue to prevent himself crying out. The priest took the candlesticks and Remus doubled over in pain. It was the silver. His eyes watered and his face turned red. Breathe, he thought urgently. It's only silver. Breathe!
The priest looked thoughtfully at Remus. Surely the lad wasn't… "A werewolf?"
Remus looked up, uneasily. "What did you say?" he whispered fearfully.
"Are you…"
Remus fled.
Someone in the congregation had overheard him, however. "Get away from me, werewolf!" she cried as Remus ran towards her.
There was a ringing silence, interrupted only by the slamming of the door behind Remus.
They were on holiday in Germany. The only thing was that they didn't know how long they were going to be on holiday for and they had arranged the 'holiday' rather hurriedly. And they were in the middle of the Black Forest, pretending to be natives.
And it had been a full moon the night before.
And the villagers knew that Remus was a werewolf.
And Remus was running for his life.
And he was being chased by angry villagers with silver bullets, pitchforks and burning torches.
"They've found out, my boy. You've got to go. Run, child. Good luck!" his father had said.
And he ran.
"Werwolf! Geh weg!" Even Remus' rather hopeless language skills could work out what they were shouting at him. And they had silver.
He hid in the forest and listened to the incensed villagers charging past. Then he carefully stood up and moved further back from the path that had just been created. A mob could do that.
The birds fluttered away as he edged between the trees and the leaves rustled as other animals fled. He sat down quietly, and put his head in his hands. The forest echoed the cries of that angry mob, and others like it. "Werewolf!" "Get away!" "Begone, evil demon!" "Geh weg!" "Werewolf!"
And even the animals knew.
The trees whispered, "Werewolf…"
"You know, don't you?" eleven-year-old Remus Lupin stared blearily up at his one-time friends, from his vulnerable position in the hospital bed."
The three friends glared back, Sirius standing with his hands on his hips and Peter looking, for once, not timid but betrayed. And James looked livid.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Sirius fumed, and Remus could feel the fire on his breath. "Why did you never tell us? I mean, you must have known we'd find out sometime! Or did you think we'd never work it out?"
Remus cringed. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "You don't have to be my friends anymore. Just – please don't tell anyone. Please."
James staggered. "WHAT?"
Sirius' eyes were even wider than Peter's.
Peter clutched the bedside table and shook his head. "We want to be your friends, Remus," he explained patiently. "It's just that we're a bit hurt that you didn't trust us. We don't actually care that you're a werewolf – we care that you didn't think you could tell us. I mean, I understand why you did it, but it's still a bit depressing that you did. I mean…" he trailed off helplessly.
Remus eyed him, warily. He'd never ever been talked to like that, not since he was bitten. He was genuinely shocked. "What?"
James stepped in, carefully. "We thought you knew that you could trust us. We want you to trust us. After all, we trust you."
"Yeah," agreed Sirius. "You didn't think we'd set the school on you with wolfsbane and silver bullets, did you?" he laughed, tensely. "We're not bad people, Moony. We want you to know that."
Remus examined Sirius' expression. "Moony?"
"Oh. Yeah. Well, it's not that bad a nickname, is it? Better than… I dunno… Valentine," grinned Sirius.
"Yes, Valentine," replied Remus, a.k.a. Moony.
Sirius glowered.
The four friends laughed. They were united again.
The boy in the next bed glared at the werewolf. "You nearly killed me!"
"Yes," replied Remus shortly. "I know."
"I'm going to tell the whole school."
Panic flitter across Remus' features. "No! Please!"
Severus smiled at Remus' scared expression. It was not a pleasant smile. "And then they'll come and join me with the wolfsbane. You creatures ought to be exterminated. It's disgusting…"
Remus relaxed very slightly. It looked like Severus was simply fantasising about what he could do. He probably wouldn't do any of it. At least, he hoped he wouldn't.
"…silver bullets, not potions to make it less painful…"
Silver bullets. The one thing, other than the full moon, of course, that Remus was scared of. Maybe even terrified.
"…and certainly not trying to find a cure! … ridiculous…"
Remus lay back in his bed. He could expect this to go on for some time. And, of course, Severus would hate him. Not that he didn't already.
"…murdering innocent people…"
Remus wished, sometimes, that he didn't have to deal with this prejudice.
"…mauling harmless children…"
But this was the way of the world. This was the way it was.
He threw the letter in the fire and watched it burn with a very small amount of satisfaction. The typical letter, of course.
Dear Mr Lupin…
…revealed that you are a werewolf… anonymous source… sorry to say… cannot employ werewolf… public reaction, etc, etc… many apologies…
Yours sincerely,
Illegible Squiggle
And it was worse than usual, because he had actually thought he might be able to stay there for a while. He'd been there for longer than any of his other jobs, and now…
Nothing. Gone. All gone, simply because he was a werewolf.
He was back to living on what money he could earn from small jobs like mowing muggles' lawns or washing their cars. All because he was a werewolf.
It made him sick.
He'd gone into muggle work, mainly because they didn't believe in werewolves, and so wouldn't sack him for it. They probably wouldn't even notice that he took days off during every full moon, and even if they did, he would have an excuse ready. He always had an excuse ready.always
Remus walked towards the wolves' cage. He hated working in a zoo, partly because he was so close to animals, and most of them were terrified of him, and partly because when he visited the wolves he could feel their distress. Unfortunately, it was the only job he could get at the moment.
The wolves were hungry, of course, and they were angry, as usual, because of being stuck in a cage when in the wild they would have miles of land. Remus fed them, feeling a bit guilty because he couldn't do anything else for them, and went to feed the elephants. The zookeeper was waiting for him there.
"Remus Lupin," he said. Remus braced himself for what he knew was coming. The Talk always came before the Sack. And here was the Talk. Again. He listened politely and kept his face carefully blank. Apparently he frightened the animals too much. Apparently he was a good worker, but someone had lodged a complaint. Apparently… Apparently… It was always 'apparently'.
Another job gone. He was unemployed again. It got worse each time. Well, he thought sarcastically, at least I'll have plenty of spare time.
It wasn't until three weeks later that Remus discovered that the zookeeper knew he was a werewolf. He had married a witch, as it turned out, and so had been taught every single prejudice from his wife. And then he'd worked out that Remus was a werewolf, and sacked him.
"Werewolf! Get away!""
"Geh weg!"
"Begone, evil demon!"
"…mauling harmless children…"
"…can't trust them…"
"…cannot employ werewolf…"
The multiple voices flicker through my head, and I can tell immediately how they will react. Even before they all give me apprehensive glances, as though I'll turn into a wolf and attack them on the spot. The silence screams at me to say something, do something, make some sort of noise.
"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione. Only one out of three, I'm afraid." Calm down, I tell myself. Normally they would have attacked by now. You're fine. Calm down. "I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle," although I might as well have been, since I haven't told anyone he's an animagus, "and I certainly don't want Harry dead…" He's all that's left of James. I couldn't bear to lose him.
And now the confession, then the petrified fear, then the screaming. "But I won't deny that I am a werewolf."
Ron, the most intolerant of the three, thanks to his wizarding upbringing, tries to run. His leg prevents him, and I can see the pain on his face. Pain I've felt before. I move to help him, forgetting for a moment what's going on, and Ron stares at me in horror. "Get away from me, werewolf!"
Freeze.
Well, I knew it was coming. It hurts, though. He surely knows me well enough to put aside his prejudices, doesn't he? But no, of course he doesn't. No-one except Harry's parents, Sirius, and Peter- no, Wormtail, the traitor – has ever done that. I expect that no-one ever will, but I can always hope.
And, quenching both the wolf's instincts to attack and the survivor's to run, I turn to Hermione. "How long have you known?"
"You're the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had!" Harry protests. "Don't go!"
Don't go. I can't believe he just said that. Don't go. How can he say that? Don't go. Don't go. Don't go.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to say a word. He's not the first one to have come up here to see me, either. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas came together, saying I'd taught them really well and they were sorry to hear I was going. Lavender Brown and Padma and Parvati Patil came together as well, and I'm sure I heard Parvati confess outside the door that she thought I was quite cute, "even if he is a werewolf." Neville came and thanked me for encouraging him in his lessons and asked if I knew his parents. We talked over a cup of tea each for a little while. Hermione came early this morning to apologise for not trusting me and for spilling my secret when, "it wasn't mine to give." That was before Severus' 'slip of the tongue', of course.
And that was just the Gryffindor 3rd years. Ginny, the Weasley girl, visited me and apologised profusely for all her brothers' behaviour. Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw in Ginny's year, came and asked me about strange creatures I might have seen in the Forbidden Forest. My reply was to suggest she had a look for herself. A sixth year Hufflepuff, Regan McAber, also came, and there were plenty more. Even some Slytherins, to my surprise!
But this is Harry in front of me, trying to persuade me to stay. The rest were just saying I was a good teacher. Harry wants me to stay.
My voice being more trustworthy, I try to comfort Harry and distract him from what I'm doing. "From what the Headmaster told me this morning, you saved a lot of lives last night, Harry. If I'm proud of anything, it's how much you've learned. Tell me about your Patronus."
"How d'you know about that?" he asks me, and I reply with the obvious answer.
"What else could have driven the Dementors back?"
And Harry tells me. In my head, I can see Lily and James looking proudly at their baby boy. How proud they must be, now, wherever they are. Especially James.
A corporeal Patronus in third year! And a stag, more importantly. Prongs.
"Yes, your father was always a stag when he transformed." He used to worry about me attacking him, but he was Prongs. He was my pack. He was James. I wouldn't have touched him, ever. "You guessed right… that's why we called him Prongs." The name was Sirius' idea. So, for that matter, was Moony, although James came up with Padfoot, which made us all laugh, and Wormtail.
I pick up James' old Invisibility Cloak, ignoring the wonderful memories of nights sneaking around Hogwarts. "Here," I hand it to Harry, "I brought this back from the Shrieking Shack last night. And…" the Marauder's Map is also removed from its previous position on my desk, with a little reluctance. It provides more memories. "I am no longer your teacher, so I don't feel guilty about giving you this back as well." I am also a Marauder, and James and Sirius would kill me if I didn't. "It's no use to me," any more, "and I daresay you, Ron and Hermione will find uses for it." You'd better not put the Potter name to shame, Harry. Use it well. Be original. Be mischievous.
Harry goes on to ask me questions about what I said when I took the map off him, and I answer him carefully. Then Dumbledore arrives and, before he can dissuade me, which he is perfectly capable of doing, I leave, hurriedly. "Well – goodbye, Harry. It has been a real pleasure teaching you." And it really has. It really, really has.
He looks at me with Lily's eyes, and the words of Sirius, James, Lily and now Harry himself echo in my mind. Don't go. But I have to. I have to.