Chocolate Eyes by Jess Pallas
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for prompt nine of the rtchallenge - "Hunger hurts but starving works when it costs to much to love." - Fiona Apple – "Paper Bag".
Chocolate EyesIt was around midday on the morning after his second full moon passed at Grimmauld Place that Nymphadora Tonks first brought Remus Lupin a hot chocolate.
He had not asked for it. To say it was a surprise that she had bothered was something of an understatement. He liked Tonks, or liked what he knew of her of least, information gleaned from communal chats in the parlour and occasional exchanges on shared missions. She was bright and breezy, capable of both cheerful humour and efficient professionalism as the situation demanded, an Auror dressed in the clothes and personality of a vibrant, daft young woman. She had always been friendly enough towards him but until that morning he had never noticed any peculiar regard.
But she had come. At such times of the month, most of the Order tended to avoid him, exchanging awkward looks if the subject of his condition came up and shifting uncomfortably in his presence as though he might change at any moment. Even Molly, kind and motherly, had shown visible, if embarrassed discomfort when he had announced his necessary retreat from company the night before. He told himself… no he knew that they meant nothing personal by it, that such reactions to a werewolf on the cusp of his change were natural enough. He could not blame them for it. If he had been able to retreat from his own company at such times, he would have done so gladly.
But such was not the nature of the werewolf and the moon had come and stripped away his human form with inevitable cruelty.
And then moonset had come and with it the aches and pains that characterised the morning after, the heavy limbs, the pounding skull, the gnawing hunger and the utter exhaustion and faded lack of energy that prevented him from doing anything but crawling into his bed and lying there. He slept for a while, but it never lasted, for true sleep was impossible after such an ordeal and so he simply lay, limbs dangling over the sides of his narrow bed, face buried in the pillow, blanket pulled haphazardly around him, too thick-headed and drained to do anything but listen to his stomach rumble and pray for the evening when Padfoot - the only Order member desensitised enough to his condition to disturb him - would come and drag him out of bed in time for Molly's supper.
But at midday, he was roused unexpectedly from his uncertain slumber by a tentative knock at the door.
He remembered the uncertain expression on her heart-shaped face as she'd peered round the door at him. He knew he must have looked a sight, scruffy, unshaven, pale and slack-faced but nonetheless she'd managed a smile as she'd stepped inside, successfully circumnavigating both the rug and the ratty old yellow blanket he had lain upon beside the fire the night before to make her way over to the bed. It was only when she had stepped into the narrow shaft of light filtered through the curtains that he had spotted the steaming mug clasped in her hands.
It had been an offhand comment made to Sirius after the last full moon, a quiet remark about how glorious it had been at school to wake from a transformation to find a mug of Poppy Pomfrey's best hot chocolate waiting at his bedside to assuage his post change hunger pangs. He hadn't even known she'd been listening. He would have doubted she'd had recalled it if she had.
But now here she was, the awkwardness that characterised those told of his condition written across her face, brandishing a hot chocolate and managing a smile. Settling on the end of his bed with only a minor tumble, she had sat with him and chatted about everything and nothing as he drank.
The hot chocolate was neither as rich or strong as Poppy Pomfrey's. But it had tasted wonderful.
He did not know why she had come that first time, what had prompted her to step over that tangled line that took them from colleagues and comrades into friendship. But she had done so and from that moment on, it became their ritual, every morning at midday after each full moon, whether it was her day off, her lunch hour or her rest over from a gruelling night shift, there she would be on the dot, bearing a mug of hot chocolate and an increasingly less awkward grin. Sometimes she brought biscuits too, or fruit, or a bar of Honeydukes best to split between them with a crack. The chocolate frogs were thoughtful, if a little energetic for an exhausted werewolf to subdue, but whatever else, there was always a mug of hot chocolate and her smile.
And that was all that really mattered.
Those visits changed them both. Uncertain chats turned into long conversations, conversations that were the genesis and catalyst of deep and abiding trust, the birth of private jokes, an exchange of views, a chance to vent or voice concerns to a secret, understanding audience of one. Remus' exhaustion seemed to melt away as he lay back against his pillow, sipping his hot chocolate and listening to Tonks rant about the Ministry, express concern over Sirius' moods or relate the latest grim report from the war. Or perhaps if he felt bright enough, he'd watch Tonks laugh and engage with her in playful banter and light-hearted humour that washed the fears away. They told each other secret fears and offered reassurances, shared thoughts and then shared feelings that had stole down upon them both until…
Merlin, how he missed those mornings.
Merlin, how he missed her.
But that was gone now. He should never of allowed such an indulgence of feeling in the first place. He should never have let her waste her precious time on him.
Too old. Too poor. Too dangerous.
For what? Hot chocolate? Talk?
Love?
He had been so hungry. He had been so selfish.
There was no one to talk to in Greyback's pack, no one to confide his terror to. There was no one waiting to fill the void in his stomach, his mind or his heart. If he wanted food after the moon, he would have to scavenge for it. And as for the rest…
He thought longingly, desperately, of a heart-shaped face and laughing eyes, deep and dark and warm like the chocolate she carried with uncharacteristic security within her soft hands. He needed her. He hungered for her.
But she was never his to have. Starvation was the only way. He could not survive here if he remembered what it was like to taste of such a life...
The ghostly, imaginary scent of hot chocolate rushed across his nose, filling him with instant longing. Aching, hungry and starving beneath the morning sun, Remus Lupin pulled himself into a ball and sought desperately for the release of elusive sleep.
But all he dreamed of was a pair of chocolate eyes.
A/N: For a later prompt, I wrote a companion piece to this fic from Tonks' point of view. I'll post it up in a few days time when I've been over it. :)