Romance Novels
Rain. A lot of people dislike rain. It's understandable, really - it's wet and cold and generally makes you feel uncomfortable.
At this particular moment in time, Sirius Black was already uncomfortable enough not to care.
Normally Sirius loves rain. It smells fresh and clean and has that peculiar talent for making everything it touches smell just a little bit stronger. The sweet scent of grass or the bitter tang of tree bark. It was the embodiment of the outdoors, of freedom.
It was raining now. Thick, heavy autumn rain, pouring from the sky in an endless onslaught that soaked you right down to the bone. Not like that thin, misty stuff that people always complain is the worst for getting you as wet as possible in the littlest amount of time.
If Remus were there, he would laugh at Sirius and remind him that all rain gets you wet, and if you are going to sit in it for hours at a time, you will be thoroughly soaked in the end either way.
But Remus wasn't there, and Sirius was trying to distract himself by thinking about the weather.
And clearly he was failing.
Sirius lifted his head slightly from where it was resting on his knees, and finally took stock of his surroundings. It was surprisingly difficult to get his bearings, with the looming dark grey clouds and the lashing rain blurring everything together in the equally unhelpful remnants of moonlight that were flittering through the oppressive all-consuming bleakness in the air.
It was like one of those horrible clichés in a Muggle romance novel - Not that he had ever read one, a very butch voice in his head chided- where his own bad mood and cloudy confused thoughts were translated miraculously into the surrounding environment as a warning to all the other, less important, characters in the story. In truth, it was just an average September night in the Scottish mountains, where things were always just a stones throw away from becoming bleak without warning.
He looked around, slowly. He had somehow managed to find himself near the edge of a rather steep drop into the lake, which looked particularly cold and uninviting. He was vaguely aware that his back was pressed against a wall, the cold, rough stone just noticeable through his shirt. He tilted his head back far enough to see the towering wall stretching up above him. It was windowless, possibly the far side of the Great Hall. He had been here all evening, and it was strange to think that, just a few hours ago, his housemates would have been sat not twenty feet away.
Sirius let his head flop back down to his chest. The movement shifted the thin fabric of his shirt, which was so drenched in rain it may as well have been woven from an aqueous solution. His whole body shivered, cramped frozen limbs protesting at the sudden movement. He bit his lip, then licked it in an attempt to soothe it again, and tasted blood.
He lifted a tentative hand to wipe it away, but it was dried. When had he done that?
The wind changes. Where before it was blowing towards the forest, disturbing the trees and making them groan in protest, it was now gusting directly at the castle in front of which he happens to be sitting. His body shivers violently again, but it feels odd this time, strangely detached.
He wonders briefly if this is one of those outer-body experiences Peter told him about last year. But didn't he say you felt like you were watching yourself from afar? Sirius just felt numb.
As if to prove he is still, in fact, perfectly well inside his own body, he lifts his hands up and gazes at his palms for a moment. Everything seems to be in the right perspective, but he turns them over to make sure.
His right hand is sore, he notes absently. When he looks, the knuckles are bruised, the skin cracked and crusty with blood. When he flexes the fingers, the joints scream their displeasure.
' I punched James.'
The realisation hits him as hard as the blow that had burst his lip.
He had actually had a fight with James. A malicious punch up, not their usual playful wrestling. It was unprecedented. They hadn't even fought after The Prank, there had just been the silence and the avoidance.
Sirius idly rubbed the tender flesh of his hand as he tried to remember the details.
He could remember the argument with Remus well enough and, as usual, being an idiot and making a complete fool of himself. He wouldn't even be able to explain himself if you asked. He wasn't one to recall all the little reasons behind actions, he just did it and dealt with the consequences. He was starting to think he might need to change that philosophy.
It was the little things, now, that snapped the little control he had. He couldn't get mad that Remus was avoiding him, because he had been avoiding Remus. He couldn't be angry that the werewolf for not wanting to talk about it, because he didn't either. He couldn't even be mad at himself for feeling this way about his friend, because Sirius Black did not regret his feelings. His actions occasionally, but never his feelings.
So instead, Sirius had gotten mad about the little things. Remus reading too much - Remus spending all his time in the library - Remus being all pal-y with Evans and Dork-face and Mary Fucking McDonald. All things Remus did anyway, but now Sirius would get mad about it and pass it off as annoyance at Remus' unsociability. He hadn't been sure James was buying it before, now he knew he wasn't.
James. I fucking PUNCHED James.
' I should apologize for that,' he muttered aloud.
Sirius closed his eyes. They were stinging, burning, and as much as he wanted to blame the tumultuous weather, he couldn't.
' Oh God,' he mumbled, rubbing his hands over his face. ' I'm being a girl. Complete skirt.'
How had he let this happen?
Why had he not controlled himself, not lashed out? Hell, why had he not controlled himself in the first place and maybe not kissed his best friend! How had he not realised what this would do to them? How it would pull them apart, make them so tense around one another.
But then, why did it make them so awkward? Why did he feel like this? Why hadn't they just laughed it off, made it a joke? How had Sirius managed to keep this whole situation from James, his brother in all but blood? Why had Remus kept up that controlled forced calm, hiding himself from everyone again, like back in first year?
And why the bloody Hell had Sirius not talked to Remus? How had he backed down, taking the cowards route? How had he let this - whatever it was - come between them as friends? Why had he picked a fight on the full moon, of all days? How had he ever convinced himself it was a good idea to abandon Moony to his fate for twelve hours, alone and vulnerable and furious?
And then, amongst all the infuriating, unanswerable hows? and whys? came a resoundingwhat.
What was he going to do about it?
And, mercifully, he knew the answer. He was going to fix it.
Almost before he consciously had the thought, Sirius had jumped up. Another millisecond later and he was down again, this time on four legs, bounding across the grounds. He no longer felt the chill on his skin, now covered in thick, warm black fur. Not that he had been feeling it particularly much, regardless.
The smell of the grass and the rain and the freedom were drowned out by the distinct scent of a fellow canine, and the blood that always accompanied him. Moony's blood. Remus' blood. He urged himself to run faster.
As he drew nearer, even the whistling of the wind and the furious rustling and creaking of the forest and whatever creatures it held couldn't hide the cries of the wolf. The long, low howls grew louder, and some fragment of Sirius' brain wondered if Remus could scent him coming. Probably.
He bolted under the Willow, without even bothering to hit the freezing knot. He was moving too quickly anyway, and a branch swung down and missed him by several feet as he ducked into the tunnel.
The smells were growing stronger and more feral with each step, and Sirius didn't think he had ever moved up this passageway so quickly in his Hogwarts history. It was odd, if you though about it, sprinting towards a dark creature - never mind a highly dangerous dark creature you had had a fight with earlier, and who you knew for a fact was completely enraged - so Sirius resolved not to.
Before he knew it, he was in the doorway of the run-down old house. He sniffed to locate his friend, not sure what to expect and feeling uncharacteristically wary. He needn't have bother, though, as the roof creaked with the weight of a fully grown werewolf bounding down the landing above. He had been waiting.
Sirius tried to prepare himself, but it was futile. When the wolf stuck it's huge sandy-brown head over the banister on the stairs, the familiar, warm chocolate brown eyes were gone. What were left were hard, emotionless orbs filled with only a glint of bestial malice. They were narrowed as the animal snarled, baring it's teeth and flaring it's nostrils.
Sirius was terrified - something he could honestly say he had never been before. He shouldn't have come. This was another mistake on his ever-growing list of bad decisions.
But it was too late now.
The wolf tensed, crouched, muscles bunching, and Sirius braced himself for the attack. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 23. Wow.
I rather like this chapter, even if it was a bit hard to string all the elements together - I tend to write random little snippets, and then jumble them all together to make a chapter, filling out the gaps. Again, a little bit longer for the update, and again, I am sorry. I'm kind of getting into the balance of writing and getting my actually work done.
Also, 71 reviews! Even bigger WOW! :D Thank you all so much, it really means a lot that you took the time not only to read this, but to give your opinion and support! Thank you!
I think that is all, thanks again for reading! Danke Schoen! (Thanks, again, ItachisPurpleChakra for the correction, and the longest review in the history of fan fiction!)