Chapter Five: Memories
Later that night, Remus paced his small living room restlessly. His bare feet were silent on the wooden floor, despite the perpetual shiver that had plagued him throughout the entire afternoon. He seemed unable to rid himself of Voldemort's smell or the memory of that cold, callous voice. Baring his teeth in a snarl of frustration, he forced himself to stand still in front of the window. Twilight was creeping through the streets and alleys of London, preparing to wrap the city in the night's embrace. The swollen moon peeked over the buildings across from Remus' apartment, its light a pale silver imitation of sunlight, but lacking all of the sun's warmth. He growled at it, reminded that the full moon was only two nights away.
He turned from the window and the sight of the accursed, mocking moon suddenly. The abrupt movement caused a fresh wave of tremors to sweep across his body. Muttering a string of expletives under his breath, Remus stalked to the closet and yanked a worn blanket from the shelf. He wrapped it around himself tightly, still growling curses, reverting to French when his English had been exhausted, and then to Spanish and finally Romanian. His irritation carried him, trailing curses, to the light switch near the door, where he vehemently turned the light off. Darkness flowed over him and his apartment, cool and soothing. When he had used up every expletive he knew, Remus flopped onto the couch with a sigh. He lay there for a minute before climbing back to his feet, unable to stay still.
Impulsively, he made his way to the kitchen, where he prowled from cupboard to cupboard, opening and closing the same ones several times, as though he hoped that some sort of new, wonderful food would suddenly appear if he kept searching long enough. Comfort food, his mind requested. He sighed once more. It was times such as this when he longed to be able to eat chocolate, which was renowned for its ability to make anyone who consumed it happier. However, unfortunately, he was unable to partake of any chocolate because his wolf side would have an extremely negative, possibly fatal reaction to it, just as any dog would. Casting his mind about for ideas, he finally settled on tea.
As soon as it had been brewed and poured into a very chipped teacup, Remus wandered back into his living/bedroom and stood once again in front of his window. The moon's siren call was too much for him to resist, compelling, summoning. Especially around the full moon, he was drawn to it. He battled with the part of him that wanted nothing more than to reply to its call, stifling a howl by taking a large gulp of tea. Slowly, he regained his composure and leaned on the windowsill, putting his teacup down next to him and resting his head on his hands.
Memories surfaced gradually, and he made no attempt to struggle against them as he had before.
Your hunger will be satiated very soon. In the meantime, however, you must obey me. I believe you know the punishment for treachery already.
He saw James and Sirius as they had been in the fifth year, sitting with Peter Pettigrew in the Gryffindor common room around midnight, plotting adventures for the coming full moon. He remembered James and Lily's joy on their wedding day. Other faces came to him, too, outside his immediate circle of friends. Frank and Alice Longbottom, dancing gleefully at a Yule Ball so many years ago. Marlene McKinnon, a quiet Ravenclaw that had frequented the Hogwarts library almost as much as Remus had. The twins, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, both brilliant chasers for Hufflepuff. Dorcas Meadowes, the Gryffindor with a dreamer's eyes and perpetually mussed blonde hair, who had always asked him for help on their Astronomy homework…
Remus bowed his head, sickened by the knowledge that every one of them was dead at Voldemort and his Death Eaters' hands, and that he was helping their killers in some peculiar way. For once he wished that the full moon would come sooner so that he could transform and Hunt Voldemort, take revenge and force him to pay the blood-price that he owed to so many.
It would never work, a nasty, reasonable part of Remus whispered. You would be killed like an animal, just another on the long list of causalities, and then what good would you be?
He silenced the howling of sorrow and guilt within him laboriously and turned from the window, leaving his forgotten, half-drunk tea to grow cold on the windowsill. He padded to his couch and lay down, trying to think of nothing, thankful when sleep finally came to claim him.