Daybreak crept into the Common Room, bringing with it the quiet sounds of morning. Birds twittered, and a breeze swept through the forest. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. The scents of new, unnamable flowers drifted into Remus's nostrils, all of them somehow emanating from Lily's neck.
His eyes fluttered open. Lily was still nestled against him, her back curved into him, fitting perfectly with his form even though her frame was much smaller than his tall, lanky one. Under the blanket, his left arm was draped over her hip; he gently slipped it across her torso until his hand was tucked into the small, warm space between her right shoulder and cheek. His right arm was serving as a pillow for her head, as it had done a few hours ago when they finally tore themselves from one another and agreed to try to shut their eyes. It began to dawn on him that the arm was totally asleep, prickly and heavy and numb. He looked at his hand dangling off the edge of the sofa and saw that Lily's right hand was lying inside his numb one, cupped there like a delicate flower. He tried to squeeze her hand but, having no strength in that arm, barely managed a light twitch. He smiled into her hair, thinking that to lose an arm for this moment was a small price to pay.
As he awoke more fully, his brain began to process the events of the last day and a half. How could his life have altered so entirely in the span of thirty-six hours? Had the trauma of their encounter at the full moon at last brought them together, when nothing else had? Remus had an sudden and unexpected thought that biting Lily had, in a strange way, marked her as his own, his chosen mate. It was a horrible thought, and he crushed it immediately. But still it seemed that the bite, oddly enough, had opened the door to possibility. Remus sighed. He was overanalyzing things, as usual. He decided to focus on the here and now. He kissed the angry bite mark gently, reverently, grateful that something so wonderful had come from such a terrifying accident. He was determined that this was the first and last injury Lily would sustain at his hands.
He kissed the back of her neck, whispered her name; somehow, it felt right in his mouth today. Everything had changed last night; and the change, it appeared, had taken root. He was no longer afraid of the taste of her name on his tongue. He kissed her neck again.
"Papaver somniferum," murmured Lily.
Making potions in her sleep, Remus realized with a smile. "Come on, love," he whispered, nibbling the nape of her neck. "Poppies later. Breakfast first."
"Syringa vulgaris."
Lilacs. "Wake up, love." His lips slid toward the bit of skin behind her left ear, just above the bite.
With her eyes still closed, she turned toward him and kissed him, making sleepy little sounds in her throat. "Daisies, daisies," she murmured between kisses. "Oh." Her eyes flew open and she smiled, her lips still on his.
"Oh, hello. I didn't see you there," Remus replied, returning the smile, not daring to completely remove his lips from hers. Her eyelashes glinted reddish-brown in the morning light; he could almost count each individual lash.
"I'm starving," Lily muttered, beginning to nibble on his chin.
"Toast would be more nutritious than my rather meager stubble, I'm afraid," Remus remarked.
"Then we'd best get dressed and go get breakfast. We'll be the first ones there. Race you!" A blur of white nightgown and coppery hair and she was gone.
Remus stared at the ceiling for a moment, grinning and massaging his dead arm, until he realized that Lily was probably serious. And he didn't want to miss a moment of being alone with her, even if it was in the Great Hall over breakfast and coffee. He leapt from the couch and bolted upstairs to change.
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As Lily suspected, she and Remus were among the first students in the Great Hall. They sat next to each other at the long Gryffindor table, allowing the sides of their shoes to touch every now and then; but otherwise they were the models of decorum. Remus commented that, oddly, he had not dreamed last night; and he confessed that usually his dreams were full of images. In response, Lily began to quote dramatically from Hamlet's famous "To be or not to be" soliloquy:
… To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause …
"I played Hamlet when I was nine," Lily confessed. "Probably the worst, youngest Hamlet they had ever seen at summer camp. Not to mention the most female."
"And the most beautiful," Remus added, delighting in watching a splotch of pink appear on her cheek as she smiled, her eyes downcast. "I'm sure you were brilliant. I would have given you a standing ovation."
"No account for taste," Lily scoffed gently.
Remus laughed. "Let me have my boyhood crush, if you please."
Lily gave Remus a sidelong glance. "Hamlet is the reason I came to school."
"How do you figure?" Remus asked, facing her.
"When I got my letter from Hogwarts, I was terrified. I didn't want to come here. Over the years, I'd already frightened my sister half to death with various accidental bits of magic. Understand, I just wanted to be like her, to be normal."
"Yeah," Remus said, watching her profile intently.
"But finally Mum sat me down and asked me if I thought someday I might ever regret not going. I thought of Hamlet, and how he didn't do what he knew in his heart was right. Because he waited too long, he messed everything up. He killed people he didn't mean to kill, people who didn't need to die. He lost his girl, his best friend, his mother (evil though she was), and his life." She looked at Remus. "I didn't want to die a bitter old woman, plagued by dreams of regret. I didn't want to live an unfulfilled life. And most of all I didn't want to hurt someone because I didn't know how to control my magic. So here I am. Alive and well, and wickedly good with a wand."
Remus smiled and clasped her hand under the table. "And I, for one, am very glad you played Hamlet."
Lily smiled back and squeezed his fingers. They slipped easily into a conversation about the brilliant psychological characterizations in Shakespeare's play, which blended naturally into one about Muggle psychology in general, and from there into pop culture and Muggle music, including songwriters from Bob Dylan to David Bowie. Remus was glad Lily understood the Muggle sensibility, as his grandmother had been such an influence on him as a boy. Somehow it didn't feel strange that they didn't mention his lycanthropy. He knew they would have to discuss it again at least once before the month was out; but this morning he was content to know a little bit more about Lily, about how she viewed the world, and what she thought of it. He figured she already knew all there was to know about him.
Eventually, more students began to trickle into the Great Hall, and Lily stood to go back to the girls' tower to get her books and put her hair back.
"Wait." Remus stood with her, resisting the impulse to put a hand on her narrow waist in front of the other sleepy students. "I feel I've left something out."
Lily smiled. "Was there something we didn't cover during this strangely all-encompassing conversation?"
"I should have asked you something." He took a breath. "Lily Evans, will you go out with me?"
She blushed, smiling. "You know the answer to that question."
"Saturday, at noon. The dragon's burial mound. I'll bring lunch."
"It's a date," she said softly, her green eyes burning into his. At once a vision exploded into his mind, quite unbidden, of their kissing on the couch last night during a particularly sweaty embrace. He blinked and it was gone.
"Okay, see you in class," he smiled, feeling oddly as though the wind had been knocked out of him. The feeling quickly subsided when Lily smiled and he shook it off. He watched her lithe figure from behind as she exited the Great Hall.
Remus sat down again and refilled his teacup, stirring it idly, feeling deliciously content and wondering what he had done to deserve this splendor. A pang of guilt throbbed inside his chest when he saw Peter, Sirius, and James lumbering toward the table where he sat. But somehow he was able to shove it aside, as if his feelings for Lily now had their own special, locked drawer inside his heart. No one had a right to pilfer that drawer, not even his own melancholy conscience.
He was grateful that his friends were relatively subdued in light of the recent events, for he found that he really didn't feel talkative just now. The four friends spoke in hushed tones over bacon sandwiches and muffins about what other avenues they could explore to locate the Greyback house. James, however, hardly said a word.
Then he looked at Remus, and suddenly another image invaded Remus's thoughts – he saw James and Sirius sending an owl from the Hogwarts owlery at night; but instead of taking off for parts unknown, the owl flew straight to the school. Remus shook his head as if he had swimmer's ear. What was wrong with him? Where were these visions coming from? And what did they mean?
He tore his gaze from James to Sirius and found that he was watching Remus warily. Abruptly, another set of images stole into Remus's mind. Sirius was standing with Remus and Lily in the forest created by the Room of Requirement, Remus's blood on Lily's white blouse, the mark red and dangerous-looking on her neck. Then the vision switched to Sirius scrutinizing Remus in front of the fire last night as Remus watched James touching Lily's wound. Remus hadn't realized he had looked so visibly displeased by their contact.
Remus looked away from Sirius and the image was gone. He pressed his palms into his eyes and vowed to go see Madam Pomfrey during lunch today. Perhaps he was truly losing it. Perhaps the years of transformation had finally taken their toll on his psyche. Or maybe he was just really, really tired. Great, he thought. I finally give in to the woman of my dreams, and then I go mad.
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Remus saw Lily in his first two classes; but she arrived just before class began and uncharacteristically sat in the back so that Remus couldn't very well turn around to see her. It was probably smart on her part; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to tear his eyes from her. He tried to focus on the lectures and practical exercises, with a minimal amount of success. He was relieved when the lunch hour came at last, and he hastened to see Madam Pomfrey.
The infirmary was oddly full of patients, first year students whose skin was covered in fish scales. Madam Pomfrey scuttled from one student to another, rubbing a slimy substance on their skin and trying to quell the general pandemonium with the help of one overwhelmed student trainee.
"Where's Professor Slughorn? How could he let this happen?" one student kept gurgling over and over.
"Pescemius potions for first years, indeed," Madam Pomfrey muttered crossly under her breath. "Too volatile. What was the man thinking? I should drag him up here myself! Scaling these children is not going to be easy."
Remus realized that he might have to wait a long while, so he resolved to try again after Defense Against the Dark Arts. As he turned to leave, he noticed a dark figure in the corner next to the door. Severus Snape was sitting up in bed, fully clothed over the white bed covers, and he appeared to be trying to look inconspicuous. He held a handkerchief over his nose and there was blood on it.
Remus dragged a chair over and sat quietly facing Severus. He folded his arms across his chest, extending his long legs and crossing his ankles in front of him. The two seldom spoke to one another; the silence was as much Severus's choice as Remus's own. But since he was here, he may as well confirm whether or not Severus was indeed behind the Whomping Willow's refusal to let him enter. James and Sirius were certain it was him, but part of Remus still wanted to believe that it was a fluke, a horrible accident.
Regarding Severus silently, he was filled with the familiar mixture of loathing and pity. Severus was a brilliant wizard; however, he suffered from a social awkwardness that exceeded even Remus's. But while Remus, with the support of his friends, had slowly blossomed over the past six years, Severus had withdrawn further into his isolation and his fascination with Dark magic. Remus often wondered whether he could have befriended Severus … but the feud fuelled by James and Sirius had made that impossible, and Severus had thrown a few punches of his own in years past which made it difficult to trust him now.
The killing blow, of course, was Severus's meeting with the Death Eaters; but Remus didn't dare ask him about it. If it were true, if Severus were thinking of joining them, asking him about it would likely direct the attention of the Death Eaters toward Remus and his family. If Severus cast cruel curses at Remus, that was one thing; but the Death Eaters felt no remorse, had no compunction about killing entire families, or torturing them into madness. Remus couldn't let Severus know that his friends had seen him in the Hog's Head.
Severus lowered his handkerchief and Remus saw that his beaklike, bloodied nose was now sitting decidedly toward the right side of his face. Remus sat up.
"How sweet. Come to give me sympathy?" Severus hissed, his eyes barely visible beneath the curtain of lank, black hair. "Or are you here to finish me off?"
"What are you talking about?" Remus questioned. "What happened?"
Severus turned his dark eyes toward Remus with a look of disgust, which slowly melted into one of disbelief. "You don't know, do you?"
"Know what?"
But as he looked into Severus's eyes, he saw it. He saw it as if it were one of his own memories.
Severus waited behind greenhouse three, rereading a puzzling owl signed "L.M." that he had received the previous night. As he stood there, James and Sirius snuck around the sides toward him. With animal force, James leapt onto Severus, throwing him to the ground with his full weight; he managed to relieve Severus of his wand in the scuffle. James stood up and pocketed the wand securely as he and Sirius both drew their own wands.
"Oops," Sirius jeered, pointing his wand at Severus's nose. "I suppose you were expecting your old pal Lucius Malfoy. Our mistake. Though I'm certain he sends his regards."
Severus fixed him with a look that could have wilted flowers.
"Funny little joke you pulled last night," James growled.
"Amusing you was not my intent," Severus said smoothly from his prostrate position on the grass. "Apparently I owe you my life; but I owe nothing to Lupin, or the other fools with whom you keep company." He glared again at Sirius.
"You're coming with us now, to remove the spell," Sirius demanded, advancing on him.
Severus sat up, brushing off his robes. "It's already done. It was a one-night charm that wore off at daybreak. Dumbledore will never know. It's untraceable, or so I was told." His tone was smug as he watched his two assailants with satisfaction.
"You were told?" James's eyes flashed.
"Remus isn't the only one with friends to back him up, you know," Severus said cryptically. "But now I know how to control that tree. It would behoove you to be nice."
"I'll show you nice –" And James pushed Severus to the ground once more, digging a knee into his chest. James's wand was in Severus's face, their eyes locked. As they watched each other, a look of raw panic crossed Severus's face.
"Lily? –" Severus whispered, his brow furrowing.
James's face fell as he stared at Severus. "What?"
"Nothing," Severus said hoarsely, turning his eyes away.
Sirius knelt by James's side and yanked Severus's hair so that he was forced to look at him. "How would you know about Lily? Who told you?"
Severus met Sirius's eyes for a moment. Then he laughed – a dry, raspy chuckle like old, hollow bones being ground to dust in a mortar.
"She should have sent her boyfriend to defend her," he sniggered. "But instead it's poor, puppy dog James. How poignant. Ah, this is bliss."
Sirius glanced at James, and both boys seemed utterly taken aback. James pocketed his wand and punched Severus hard in the nose. There was an audible crack.
"Tell us about the tree," James commanded, his left hand clutching Severus's throat. Sirius's wand remained trained on Severus's face.
Severus merely smiled as blood trickled into his mouth.
A group of second years began traipsing down the hill toward the greenhouse. Seeing them, James and Sirius shot up and careened toward the school. Severus stood with as much dignity as he could muster, pulling a white handkerchief from his pocket and holding it to his nose. He turned this way and that before he finally stalked toward the school, as well. With no wand, he seemed to have no choice but to head for the infirmary.
Suddenly Severus ripped his gaze from Remus's, and Remus blinked hard several times. This vision had snapped into his consciousness unbidden in the matter of a few seconds, more complete and detailed than any of the previous ones had done. Severus looked rather shaken, as if he, too, had experienced something quite unexpected.
"No need to pry," he muttered. "I could have just told you what happened."
"Wh-What?" Remus stammered.
"How long have you been a Legilimens?" Severus measured his words carefully, keeping his eyes on the bed linens.
"A – a what?"
"Don't play dumb, Lupin; it's beneath you."
"I don't know what you mean," Remus insisted.
"You don't?" Severus sneered. "Shall I show you?"
As Severus turned his eyes toward Remus again, Remus felt random memories being torn open like so many letters – transforming for the first time in his parents' tool shed, holding Lily beside the lake, being attacked by Fenrir, meeting James on the Hogwarts Express, getting photographed by the Ministry of Magic lackey, watching Lily in Potions class, laughing while he dueled with Sirius, kissing Lily in Hogsmeade, shamefully turning his eyes away while James turned Severus upside down, a friend's door slamming in his face at age eight, reading next to his grandmother on her back porch, throwing Lily violently against the tapestry, kissing her last night –
Stop it! his mind shouted. These aren't for you! Somehow, although the images had flashed quickly, he knew that Severus was seeing all of it.
He pushed his vision outward and suddenly he was back inside Severus's thoughts – Severus being pulled back by James as he neared the underground door to the Shrieking Shack, trying to fly a broom for the first time and being laughed at by James and Sirius, whispering with Lucius Malfoy in the Hog's Head, standing shakily numerous times in front of a dark-haired woman as a hook-nosed man advanced upon them both, being held upside down by James as Lily looked on, watching Remus kissing Lily in the middle of the dark road, opening numerous owls from Lucius Malfoy, sitting in a dark room with several hooded figures, glancing at Lily in Potions class, being transfigured into a flobberworm by Sirius, casting a spell on the Whomping Willow, reaching for Lily's hand during a walk on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest –
Suddenly Remus felt as if he had been forcibly pushed out of a room, and the images were gone, though Severus still gazed at him furiously. His head was spinning and his chest heaved. What had he just seen? How had he gained access to Severus's thoughts? How had Severus entered his?
"I'm – I'm sorry," Remus stammered. "I don't know what's happening."
"Go away," Severus muttered, lying back on the pillow and staring at the ceiling.
Remus glanced at Madam Pomfrey, who was only halfway through the class of flopping, fish-scaled students. He was utterly at a loss as to what to do, or say. He had come here to confront Severus about the tree; but now that he had the confirmation he'd needed, he was speechless. Any anger he might have felt had somehow transformed into desperate confusion, along with a strange, unsettling feeling that Severus deserved mercy – his, anyone's. But how could anyone show mercy to someone so actively pursuing the Dark arts? How far down that path had he traveled? Remus latched onto the only action that seemed appropriate. Turning back to Severus, he gestured toward his broken nose and reached for his wand.
"May I fix that for you?" He felt stupid as he said it, but somehow he felt that he must make the offer nonetheless.
"I'd rather you didn't," Severus intoned.
Remus nodded and stood to leave. "I'll get your wand back for you," he said firmly.
Severus glared at Remus as if he were a raving lunatic. Dabbing cautiously at his broken nose, he mumbled from underneath the handkerchief, "Go see Dumbledore. Ask him about Legilimency. And Occlumency."
Then Severus closed his eyes. Remus watched him for a moment and exited the infirmary, wondering if Severus had actually caught Lily's hand during that walk beside the forest.
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During the remaining classes of the day, Remus found that practically anytime he made eye contact with anyone, some vision or another would enter his mind unbidden. He experienced snatches of students receiving love notes, fighting with their parents, cheating on tests, crying in corridors, worrying about upcoming exams, eating toast. He quickly learned not to look anyone in the eye.
After his last class Remus hurried toward Dumbledore's office; but when he arrived, the headmaster was nowhere to be found. He quickly scribbled a note requesting a meeting and left it on his desk. Next Remus's feet carried him to a dark corner of the library where he read, until well after midnight, everything he could about Legilimency and Occlumency. He had heard of these abilities before, of course; but he had always thought that if one possessed those talents they would have manifested well before the teenage years. Evidently that was not so. The literature contained accounts of children becoming Legilimenses as young as age four, and adults developing the skill as old as eighty-seven.
Remus was most interested in how to control the visions, which depended utterly on maintaining eye contact. He really had no interest in becoming privy to everyone's thoughts every minute of the day. He had enough of his own mental fodder to slough through without having the emotions and memories of others foisted on him. And, frankly, what he had experienced of it so far had made him feel a bit mad. He could do without more madness in his life.
Remus knew he had always been able to read other people uncannily well, but that skill had developed naturally from years of trying to anticipate the needs of others. The loneliness of being a werewolf had made Remus acutely aware of others' feelings, and he had learned to adapt his own behavior in order to make those around him more comfortable. He simply couldn't afford to upset anyone for petty reasons; people would have enough cause to mistrust him once they discovered his condition. Friends were difficult to earn, and to keep, when one was a werewolf. So he had learned to anticipate needs, to ingratiate himself, to please those around him.
The literature indicated that sometimes an emotional event could trigger the onset of Legilimency or Occlumency. Perhaps the trauma of attacking Lily had cracked something open in Remus's mind. The phrase "psychotic break" kept bursting into his thoughts, and it wasn't a pleasant consideration. He thought of Hamlet, and poor Ophelia, one feigning madness, the other driven mad by her lover's charade. What would Lily say if – when – she found out about this ability? Remus supposed he should be happy to have such a rare talent; certainly there were people who would give a lot to possess it. But he really wasn't quite certain that he wanted it himself. It felt like something had been damaged in his brain rather than liberated. There was enough about him that was odd, and he preferred not to have anything else added to the list. What would his friends say if – no, not if, but when, he again reminded himself – they learned that he could read their minds? Would they ever want to talk to him again? He wanted to shake this new ability out of his mind, as if it were an insect that had accidentally flown into his ear.
After so many hours of reading, Remus's burning eyes were dry, and he felt his eyelids drooping stickily. He had been staring at the same page for several minutes while confused thoughts spun in and out of focus, whizzing by like animals on some nightmarish carousel. He slammed all the books shut and reshelved them. Hoisting his book bag over his shoulder, he tromped toward the Common Room. He hoped he would see Lily there. He had been so distracted today that he hadn't thought to try to arrange to meet with her.
When he passed through the portrait hole, he saw James sitting in darkness on Remus's favorite sofa. The sofa. The one that, after last night, must smell like Lily's perfume, their mingled sweat. James's feet were up on the table in front of him, ankles crossed. His head was resting on the back of the sofa, and his eyes were closed. His right hand held his glasses loosely on his stomach. His left hand held his Transfiguration textbook, still open, on the cushion next to him.
Remus approached him, intending to wake him up so that he wouldn't get a stiff neck. But as he neared the sofa, James opened his eyes and replaced his glasses.
"'Lo," James murmured sleepily, tossing his book onto the low table. He removed his feet from the table and sat forward, rubbing his scalp and releasing bits of dandruff, which floated lazily through the shafts of moonlight onto the threadbare rug below.
"Hi," Remus replied, sitting diagonally across from him in an overstuffed chair. His heavy book bag slid to the floor with a dull thump. He found that he was too tired to confront James about hitting Severus and taking his wand now. Besides, if he wanted to find that wand, he would have to be sneaky about it, as he was certain James wouldn't give it up.
"I was having a dream," James said. His voice was quiet and muffled, almost as if he were still asleep.
"Yeah?"
James flopped back against the cushions again. "I was beating the shit out of you."
Remus considered for a moment. "Yeah," he said, nodding. If you only knew.
"But my punches kept landing on air, and I had no strength. You know, typical dream. Eventually I gave up and you and I went to get a bite to eat."
"Huh."
The two were silent for a few minutes. James had closed his eyes and Remus began to think he had fallen asleep again. Remus stood and was about to pick up his book bag when James spoke once more.
"Do you remember biting her?" he asked matter-of-factly.
Remus looked at the girls' stairwell and answered miserably, "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
"Good." James opened his eyes and fixed Remus with a withering stare that he felt rather than saw, as his friend's eyes were nearly all in shadow. "Don't you ever forget it."
Remus didn't know what to say to James, what could possibly make anything right between them. "Do you want to hit me?" he offered feebly.
James's hand twitched and he tilted his head, contemplating. "Yes," he said simply. "But I doubt it would make me feel any better."
"Might make me feel better," Remus muttered.
"Then I'm definitely not hitting you."
"Fair enough."
James kicked off his shoes, stretched out the full length of the sofa, and stared at the ceiling, his jaw muscles clenching and unclenching.
Remus regarded him quietly, then shouldered his book bag and shuffled up the stairs. He changed silently into his pajamas and climbed into bed, listening to the regular breathing and snoring of his classmates. James would be happy to know that Remus was doing just as he wished – ruminating and suffering.
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A/N: Some of you wondered whether Remus and Lily would get caught on the sofa. But I'm a softy; I had to allow Remus to be happy at least for a little while! There are plenty of other complications coming up, don't worry. Oh, and if you want to leave a review, there is a lonely werewolf looking for someone to spoon.