Author's Notes: Writing a Mary Sue is a shamefully low and dirty pleasure, but a pleasure, after all. Which speaks very badly of yours truly.
Disclaimer: Remus Lupin, and all things related to the Potterverse belong to J.K. Rowling.
T H E
R I G H T
T H I N G
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Chapter Two: The Inner Long for Warmth
Constance's vacant stare was fixed in a small White Toy Poodle, hopping up and down to call his master's attention, a child of about nine-years-old.
"Connie?" Remus' soft voice tried to call back the girl's attention.
"It's not ..." she said, not taking her eyes away from the dog. "It isn't just my kittens, you know ..." She said, finally looking up into the man's face. "It's everything."
Remus' expression wavered between pity and confusion, and he, too, looked away. "It's just the way things are," Constance went on, feeling that an explanation was in order. "Ever since we came ... well, since they pulled us out of Hogwarts, things had gone down in short to no time." She said, paddling distractedly with her spoon into her chocolate-and-mint ice-cream. "Just take a look at Timmy, did you get round to see him?"
"Yes." Remus answered. "As a matter of fact, he opened the door for me."
Constance raised an eyebrow. "Impressive feat, coming from him. He hardly leaves his room these days. And I feel the same way, but ..."
She gulped the incipient tears fighting to stream out with a cry. "But I can't stand to be there, like he does. Probably-" she cut herself abruptly, and put a large amount of ice-cream in her mouth, more to clear her throat somehow than to enjoy its flavour. "Probably it's a temper thing, you know? I, too, feel like shutting myself in my room, and never leave, but I feel like ..." she stopped. "Like suffocating, you know? Like the whole room, and the house is very much lacking in oxygen, and that, if I stay there for longer, I'd just fall asleep and never wake up ..." She trailed away, stunned again into silence.
Remus had no words. In a very frightening way, it was like listening to Sirius complaining about his family, back in the old school days. The suffocating house, filled with his parents' dislike of him and those bouts of Dark Magic putting the sombre tone even in the smallest rooms seemed to have its equivalent in Constance's house. Remus didn't dare asking about her father, but feared he would have to, eventually.
Luckily for him, Constance brought up the topic first.
"I feel so sorry for him, you know? My father, having to stand that harpy I have to call 'mother' all year long ..."
"Connie," Remus had to step in. "Let us not start calling names, alright? I know your mother has not been the loveliest person in the world, but-"
"So typical of you." Constance said, smirking bitterly. Remus sighed, and let her continue. She obviously wouldn't listen to reason, at that moment. "So, your father is not at his ease, I presume?" He said, inviting her to continue.
"No, he's not." Constance said. "It doesn't help the fact that mum can do magic and he can't, you know ..." She said, and suddenly, felt hot with anger. "You see, I can understand that a witch or wizard feels superior to a Muggle; after all, we're an outnumbered breed of humans, and we can do things that surpass the common man's understanding, but ..." She bit her lip, and looked away, seemingly upset.
"Yes?" Remus asked.
"But to take it on your life-partner, and make them feel like a lowly creature has got to be the meanest thing to do, in my opinion. I often wonder why is that he married her in the first place." She finished, sinking the spoon on her ice-cream a bit too hard. A few drops fell off on the table, but Constance didn't take notice.
Remus did know why they had gotten married, and it wasn't a very pleasant reason. He decided not to discuss this with Constance, as she would then feel as a direct responsible of her parents' unhappy marital life.
The girl remained silent. As a young waitress came over to retrieve the empty tableware, Remus peered into his goddaughter's face, wondering if she did want to stay on the subject, or else, distract her mind into a different affair. You never know with women, he thought.
"So, how are your studies going? I remember you told me you had top marks in Charms." He said, as they walked out the establishment. Constance's face brightened up slightly as she looked at him, smiling.
"Yes, I do. I love Charms; Flitwick is such a good teacher."
"Professor Flitwick, Connie." Remus said.
"Anyway," She said, hugging her godfather's arm in a slightly childish manner, as they went back to the park. "Last year, when that awful Umbridge woman took over Hogwarts- no, way before that-, we asked him for a good background reading on defensive charms, you know," she went on, waving her hands excitedly on her talk, "since she insisted on keeping our heads buried into that worthless Ministry leaflet, and he was very helpful. He even tutored over us on non-verbal spells, and we managed to cover that part of the syllabus for our N.E.W.T.s next year ..."
She fell silent. Remus feared that she'd get to that part of the conversation. Sighing, he guided her to an empty bench and made her sit down.
"Listen, Connie." He said slowly. "One of the reasons I came to visit you after so long was that I did know you wouldn't be so happy about dropping your studies like that. I know the present situation is dire, what with the open warfare the Wizarding World is facing, and that all your parents want is-"
"To systematically deprive us of all that rejoices our hearts, yes." She cut him off, bitterly.
"No. They want to protect you, specially your mother, who happened to be in the midst of the war last time it happened. In their way, albeit a very confusing one, they strive to keep the both of you safe, and if they feel they ought to keep you at home to achieve it, that's their choice, and the best they can do." He said, his voice turning slightly steely.
Constance didn't look up to his face. Remus might be good-intentioned, he could even be right, but he would never know what it was to live in a place in which the ones that are supposed to give you a sense of protection were the ones that kept making you feel unsafe and anxious about your existence, and made you wonder if there was really a good reason why you had to stand all that. But on the other hand, his family life hadn't exactly been a dream world, in fact.
"I knew you'd say that." She said, finally. "Always do the right thing, right?" Constance looked into his temporally stern eyes, though never devoid of nobility and kindness. "And any other time, I would have known you were right, and stuck to your advice, but this time, Remus ..." She hesitated a bit. "This time, I don't care for the right thing anymore ..."
Those dreaded words. Remus was transported back to his own lonely reality, that part of his life in which he'd long for any kind of human touch, being shunned and despised for his werewolf condition. As a grown-up man, he had found it extremely difficult to keep doing the right thing, to keep his noble and helpful composure with the same people who happened to deny him job opportunities, dwelling places and even their sympathy, as he went from place to place. Ever since he had filled up that dreaded werewolf registry, he had not being able to live a normal wizard's life. And it all came down, as Constance had so painfully stated it, to do the right thing. He simply didn't think people should not be aware of his condition, if he was going to spend time around them.
Remus threw an arm around his goddaughter's shoulders, and she leaned on his shoulder. A soft waft of flowery scent washed over his face as he leaned on her head, and he closed his eyes in remembrance. He had had to fight those same words off his mind to prevent himself from turning bitter and nasty towards innocent people, but he was a grown-up when it had become inescapable to deal with such matter. And it had been hard, alright. But his goddaughter - she was barely a child! Probably her developed body made her look like a woman already, but those innocent eyes, so full of sadness and devoid of hope denounced her tender age. It was unfair and rather painful to see her defeated. She needed not to stop fighting, not at such an early age.
"I am leaving my house, Remus." She said, not looking up to his face. She had taken interest in a couple of birds, fluttering on a nearby grass extension, apparently immersed in a joyful courtship.
Remus sighed in despair and didn't say a single thing. He had feared Constance would come up with something like this, and frankly, he wasn't at all sure about what exactly she'd be capable of. She had inherited her mother's fiery temper; albeit a compassionate streak would show up very often, the same kind of interest in people and animals around her that had been her father's main quality.
"Connie, think clearly about this, please. You can't just leave your house like that, where'd you live?" He asked, trying to knock some sense into the girl.
But obviously, she wouldn't have any of this.
"I can find a job, on a regular place. I'm not far from being seventeen, and then I can perform magic freely, and be employed. Most jobs pick their employees as soon as they leave Hogwarts, and I'm only one year short of education, even less than that. My skills have to do, at least for a moderately good job, I think." She spoke matter-of-factly, as though she had been rehearsing this part of her speech for a good time. Remus shook his head, and turned on his seat, to face her completely.
"You know that is not all there is, Constance." He said, truly concerned. "In these times of war, the worst thing one can do is to isolate themselves from their beloved ones-"
"But they're not my beloved anymore!" She cut across sharply. Remus ignored her words, and went on.
"Even if a skilled witch, which I don't doubt you are, I do not think you would be safe from being attacked if the Death Eaters went on a violent rampage around the place you are. And if you plan to start your working life on the Wizarding society, I presume you'd plan on living on a place with a high rate of magical population." He argued, looking closely at her. She held his gaze determinedly, a slight frown on her forehead. "And as much as I want to think you're old enough to live on your own," he went on, "I don't think you are ready to face the challenges of a lonely existence. You are still too young to know what it is to-"
"Remus!" Constance cut him straight on his words, and drew closer to him to grab his face within her hands. The man was stunned into stillness. "Look at me, come on! Take a good look at me and tell me, am I still a child?" She said, her face a mere inch away from his. She was trembling from head to toes, and her face was contorted into a painful expression as she drilled her gaze into the wizard's shocked one. Tears were trickling down her eyes, and they shone like silver in the quickly-darkening afternoon. "Do you think I don't know what awaits out there? Do you think I still remain on that blissful ignorance that accompanied me on my childhood years? If you think so, then, I think I considered you a lot wiser than you really are."
She let go of him, and rose from the bench, walking quickly across the rhododendron-framed path. Still feeling slightly numb about what had just happened, Remus stood up and walked after her, getting hold of her arm gently but firmly as well, and turned her around. Her eyes were still filled with tears, and she seemed to be struggling to remain as calm as possible.
"You heard what happened to Mrs Abbott? Must have been all over the newspapers, yes." Constance said, with a hard voice. "But do you know how it is to see her daughter crumbling under the immense weight of having her mother killed in such a merciless way? A bright, young girl a mere year younger than me, falling apart to pieces upon the news of her mother's death, that's the saddest sight a person can be witness of." She said, shaking off Remus' hand from her arm.
"Yes, I do know what it is to be in permanent danger due to the cruel violence of a few, but what awaits me there," she waved a trembling hand to her house's general direction, "is far worse than what would may or may not be in store for me if I leave." She said, not taking her eyes off him.
"If I die - and yes, I've considered that option, Remus, don't give me that face - I, at least, would go away being at peace with the world, having discovered I'm worthy to exist in this world by doing what I like the most, or whatever I like. I would be happy, even if I am tortured with the Cruciatus Curse, if I've managed to make my living worthy by being happy at least for a few months. But if I go back- no, if you make me go back there and stay," she said, pointing at him, "it would be as though you're killing my spirit. That house is a living hell, and it won't be long until I dispose of my life myself, and I'm sure Timothy thinks like me." She said, pulling her sleeve up and showing him a small scar on the back of her arm.
"See this? It's my mother's newfound disciplining method. Ask Timothy, he'll have a few more to show you." She said, leaving her arm to Remus' inspection. The man was speechless, as he noticed that scar and a few more on her barely illuminated arms. The sun had almost disappeared behind the thick extension of trees, and a chilly breeze was starting to blow.
"W-Why didn't you tell me ..." he stammered, gazing into her black eyes, still shining with tears.
"Come on, Remus, was it really too hard to guess?" She said, bitterly. "That's not all there is, though. Remember Athena, our owl? Ever since my mother disposed " The girl marked the word with sarcasm, "of my cats, she never returned. I guess she felt she was next, and fled away. My cat keeps on calling out her offspring, and looking for them in every corner she can get into. My parents keep on yelling at each other, and whenever my mother loses control, she casts some very nasty spells on me and my brother, and we are never too swift to avoid her attacks." She glanced sideways at this sentence, as Remus gave an involuntary start of upset surprise. The girl went on in her ramble, ignoring her godfather's shock.
"And as though it wasn't enough, she refuses to buy us schoolbooks so we can keep on with our education, arguing that they're too expensive and that we ought to stick to those we already have. Do you think that's a happy, normal family environment? I don't think so." She finished, and waited for her godfather's retort.
Remus didn't find anything remotely comforting, or helpful to say to her. She had gotten almost as tall as him, and even though she was barely sixteen years old, the trials she had gone through had eaten over her innocence, and had irremissibly worn her spirits out and into weary adulthood. Her reasoning might be biased, he thought, but doesn't she, at least, have a say on the way her life carries on? On a very little corner of his mind, Remus thought she was right in refusing to do what would appear to be the right thing.
And as the weight of everything she had just told him finished him off for arguments, he could do nothing else than throw his arms around her. Embracing her seemed, for the moment, the only way to transmit her how much he really cared, and not only of her education or her social welfare, but also for her, as a developing woman and human being. Constance wrapped her arms around his waist and sunk into his warmth, understanding perfectly his message of support. They didn't know just how long they stood there, leaning against each other, Remus losing himself in Constance's smoothness, and the flowery scent her hair carried out, his body not wanting to part from her company, and the girl holding savagely on Remus' upper body, his chest becoming her resting shelter, the peaceful dock to anchor her battered ship, after a way too long and stormy journey. And being right there, in what felt like a pleasantly natural situation for the both of them, Constance's head lifted from Remus' shoulder and she looked straight into his gleaming brown eyes, the faint light of a crescent moon illuminating his saddened, yet full of braveness and nobility, features.
"Remus, if I hadn't met you, I wouldn't have lived this long." The girl whispered, her perfumed breath bathing the man's face, and pressed her lips against his in a very passionate way. For a glorious moment, Remus didn't know what had just happened.
It felt like dawning glory on Constance's every cell. Her body tickled in a very pleasant way, as her tongue caressed his lips, sucking softly at his mouth, her hands groping and massaging his back in a slow, but permanent motion. For a little moment, even, it felt as though Remus had decided to return the kiss, as his lips parted slightly, a very soft moan escaping them like either the betray of his amazement, or his own pleasure. Constance didn't think it twice, and plunged on, her tongue, breaking through a very small gap between two perfect rows of teeth and into his mouth, to meet its counterpart. For a small, fleeting and always-remembered-as-glorious moment, Remus sunk into the warm feeling that had earlier assaulted him in the deepest corner of his manhood, as he had caught her womanly scent and felt the softness of her breast pressing against him, and his mind had made an automatic account of her feminine features, her tiny waist and her soft and curvy hips, remembering the effusive and clearly spontaneous way she had embraced him earlier. He was a lonely man, longing for warmth and affection everywhere he could find it, and had long forgotten how good it was to feel a woman's touch. And even when he tried to push the idea out of his mind, trying to regard the underage Constance as his dear goddaughter, someone young enough to be his own child, he couldn't ban the thought of her lovely eyes, longing for comfort, and the way the setting sun reflected in her sleek black hair...
But at last, as realisation of the high levels in which the present situation was wrong dawned on him, he pulled away from her, shaken into bewilderment.
"W-Wha ..? C-Constance, no!" He stammered, gripping her hands strongly with his own and sliding them off his body. Constance opened her eyes with shock, and looked at him, as though this was the most ridiculously out-of-place thing to do at the moment. "Connie, look at me. Look at me closely, Connie, listen to me." He went on saying, hopelessly, as the girl had neither ears, nor eyes for anyone else at the moment. "This is wrong, Connie. I'm too old, and you are underage ... It's wrong!"
Constance looked at him in her astonishment, as though he was speaking words in a language she didn't understand, and at last, she turned her eyes away. A flicker of anger narrowed her gaze, and she looked back at her godfather's face, a hard look of rage distorting her features.
"Yes, there is something wrong here." She said, her voice a mere whisper but as painful and deadly to hear as if it was a scream. "But it is not the feeling I have for you, nor the step I took that you have been so fearfully eluding; it is the fact that you, a man old enough to know himself better, is afraid of his own feelings, and wouldn't reach out to get what he wants, even if it was within his arm's cowardly reach." She said, and turned away, walking elegantly and at a normal pace.
This time, Remus didn't know if he should follow her or not. The way her words had engraved on his mind, and how painfully had they stung him in the very thing he had been so desperately trying to hide had left him empty of reactions of any kind, as the shock was still making easy pray of his shaking body.