It was the day of the full moon, and Remus was almost—almost—excited.
That was rare. The full moon was so intensely painful that Remus usually dreaded it every waking moment. It was like a permanent cloud fixated above his head—every time Remus caught a glance of it out of the corner of his eye and remembered that there was a cloud over his head, he got an anxious and fluttery feeling in his stomach, as if he had been jolted with a bolt of lightning.
Sometimes rain poured out of the metaphorical cloud—that was when Remus felt sad and lethargic; he was bored, yet too tired to do anything, so he sat around and felt sorry for himself as the metaphorical rain poured down on his head. Occasionally, the metaphorical cloud spewed metaphorical snow, and those were the times that Remus felt emotionally cold and angry. He ended up snapping at everyone, even if it was only in his head (because he had to keep up appearances). Remus hated the snow.
Every so often, metaphorical hail the size of basketballs fell out of cloud, and those were the times that hurt. Remus felt as if bad things were pelting him, right on top of his head, moment after moment and day after day… it was so painful that Remus often got sad and angry, and then metaphorical rain and snow and hail were all happening at the same time, along with the constant threat of metaphorical electrical storms.
The lycanthropic cloud over Remus' head was indeed versatile. It supported all types of metaphorical weather: short, sudden, predictable, or sustained. The only type of weather that it did not support was good weather. Remus longed for sunny skies, but the cloud over his head was always dark. There were no beautiful sunsets or white candyfloss clouds. There was only darkness upon darkness, and it often started raining again when Remus contemplated exactly how dark it really was.
The only things that really helped were metaphorical umbrellas. Even though Remus knew that umbrellas weren't useful in an electrical storm, they helped anyway—they didn't always obscure the metaphorical storm completely, but they allowed Remus to stay dry as he watched the rain, snow, hail, and lightning harmlessly patter to the ground around him. When Remus had a metaphorical umbrella, the metaphorical storm never hit him with full force. He could watch from a distance and observe with a calm sort of acceptance rather than emotional numbness or fiery coldness.
Professor Questus had been the perfect metaphorical umbrella. When Remus had discussed werewolves with Professor Questus, he'd always felt sheltered from the storm, yet in the middle of it at the same time. He'd felt able to observe the bad things without letting the bad things affect him so horribly. It had felt (at the risk of using too many simultaneous metaphors) like chewing his food rather than having it stuffed down his throat against his will. Mulling things over and bouncing them off a relatively unsympathetic person had been quite the effective metaphorical umbrella indeed.
Remus' friends were metaphorical umbrellas, too. When Remus went back and forth with his friends, enjoying some banter, running around, poking each other with sticks, and playing Exploding Snap, he felt sheltered in a completely different way. Remus felt safe around them—not because he was actively confronting his lycanthropy in a way that made him feel more ready to deal with it—but because acting like a normal kid, being accepted as a normal kid, having such good friends who knew what he was and still thought of him as a normal kid… that made Remus feel sheltered in the thick of the storm. It gave him a little bit of hope. A little bit of security. It was a promise that, even though the storm was going on around him, right now he was okay. Right now he was protected. The storm couldn't hurt him under this umbrella. And, even when he did have to step out into the fray of the storm—even when the rain poured on his head and the hail left bruises—even when he was struck by lightning so many times that his hair stood up and his skin was scorched—even when his fingers went numb from the cold—at least he could still pick up the metaphorical umbrella of support and normality whenever he needed.
Madam Pomfrey and Remus' parents provided the same sort of umbrellas. Professor Dumbledore often provided the Questus kind of umbrella, except with far more sympathy. Remus' hobbies, like duelling and arithmancy and reading and Latin and poetry, provided the first kind.
The only time that Remus was metaphorical-umbrella-less was on the full moon.
As he sat in the Shrieking Shack, limbs quivering violently, clinging to Madam Pomfrey's arm as she led him to the armchair, breathing heavily and wondering if he was breathing at all… Remus realized once again (as he did every month) that Madam Pomfrey was his last remaining umbrella. Once she left, he would have nothing. He would be able to read, play the piano, or recite poetry into the darkness, but none of that provided enough protection to shield Remus from the storm. As soon as Madam Pomfrey left, the metaphorical storm would hit him, full force, and Remus would be wet and cold and hurting.
The hope of being able to hear after the transformation, however, provided a sort of metaphorical rainbow on the horizon. Remus fixed his eyes on it, refusing to look anywhere else, ignoring the dark cloud above his head, because the promise of the metaphorical rainbow was the only thing that would get him through the metaphorical storm this month.
Madam Pomfrey knelt next to Remus, who was now sitting on the armchair with his legs drawn up to his chest, and touched his hand. She smiled at him warmly, and then she said something that looked like potluck. Or good luck. Remus suspected it was the second.
Do you want me to stay for a while? she wrote on the parchment.
Remus read it slowly. It took him longer than it normally would have: his eyes felt bouncy and flitty on full moon days, and reading was further complicated by the metaphorical rain that was falling in his eyes. "No, thank you," he said.
Madam Pomfrey patted his hand again, ruffled his hair, and granted him one last smile before leaving.
The trap door closed, and Remus blinked. Half a second later, the metaphorical rain, hail, snow, and lightning came crashing onto his head and shoulders, barraging at his skin like mini Bludgers.
Remus sighed. It was a good thing that the storm was only metaphorical; otherwise, he would need some serious medical attention.
Remus was a wolf and he could hear.
Didn't do him much good now, though. There was nowhere to go. He prowled around the Shack, snarling at the walls, pawing at the ground. He could hear noises from the distant Hogsmeade every so often, but he couldn't reach them—no, the only thing that he could reach in this prison of a place was himself and the furniture.
Had his hearing returned only to tease him?
Remus was a person and he could hear.
There was a bird outside the Shrieking Shack, chirping the same tuneless song as it always did. The branches of the trees outside creaked and waved in the wind. The water in the lake near the Shack made slight splooshing noises.
It was a windy day, and Remus could hear it.
He grinned wildly for a few moments before attempting to sit up, and he adored the sounds that his hands made as they brushed against the floor. His heart rate increased as he yanked himself into a sitting position, and he heard that, too. His breathing was labored after the long night of pain, and he heard it. The wall creaked as he leaned against it, and he heard it. The echoes of his own screams still rang in his ears—unfortunately, he heard that, too. And Madam Pomfrey was coming, and he heard her footsteps!
"All right, Mr. Lupin. Is everything okay? Can you hear me?" she said; she was donning her no-nonsense Matron Voice, but Remus could hear the slight note of anxiety underneath.
He grinned even wider. "I missed your voice, Madam Pomfrey," he said.
She breathed a drawn-out sigh of relief, and Remus heard that, too. "Thank heavens. Oh, my. Thank heavens. I was a bit worried, you know."
"But didn't you say that you were almost certain I'd get my hearing back after the moon?"
"Yes, I did. Key word being 'almost'. I wasn't certain, and I knew life would be a lot more difficult for you if it didn't happen after all."
"Yes, that would have been rather awful," laughed Remus. Oh, the thrill of having a conversation in real time! Remus had taken it for granted all his life.
Madam Pomfrey checked him over, and Remus didn't panic when she touched him—not once! Life was good. "You seem to be relatively healthy this month," she said. "You've broken your arm, but that should be a quick fix… and the bruising on your neck is concerning, but not dangerously so. You shouldn't be in the Hospital Wing for more than two days this month."
"That's good," said Remus, still relishing the serotonin that came from hearing a statement and responding quickly. "I have to catch up in my classes. It's hard to follow along when I can't hear."
"I can imagine. Do you want to walk back?"
"Absolutely!"
"Very well; I'll help you up. Lean on me, now. Careful. Wait… Remus, are you crying?"
"I never cry. I usually tear up after a transformation a little."
Madam Pomfrey scoffed. "These tears are different," she informed him.
Remus reached up and touched his face with his non-broken arm; yes, there was indeed water on his face. His eyes usually watered immensely from the pressure and pain of the transformation back, but these tears were different, and they'd started after Madam Pomfrey had arrived in the Shack. He was probably crying of relief. Remus was so relieved, and he wasn't surprised that the relief in question was spilling out of his eyes in liquid form.
"It's just the aftermath of the rainstorm," he told Madam Pomfrey. "You know, the one with the hail and snow and lightning. The metaphorical one that spawned from my own personal raincloud. But don't worry; it's not raining now. And I have an umbrella just in case it does start raining. Everything's all right!"
Madam Pomfrey looked confused, but she was used to Remus' post-moon rambling by now (which was amplified this morning by the fact that Remus was nearly giddy at the fact that he could hear his own voice again). "I'm glad you're feeling well," she said. "Now, please walk a bit faster—you'll be in for a real storm if we don't get back to the castle soon. That wind is ominous."
"The wind that I can hear," hummed Remus happily.
"Yes, that wind. Come on, now…."
Three seconds later, the heavens opened up, and real-not-metaphorical rain began roaring, spattering onto the ground and pouring onto Remus' head. "It's okay!" he shouted, ignoring the spray of the water that was stinging his wounds—the numbness was beginning to fade, and he was about to be in a lot of pain, but all the same— "I have an umbrella, Madam Pomfrey!"
She ushered him inside with an expression that resembled exasperated fondness, and Remus smiled all the way back to the Wing, even when the numbness faded completely, and tears of pain mingled with the tears of relief and the droplets of real-not-metaphorical rain.
Remus crawled into bed, absolutely soaked and freezing cold. "Mind drying me off, Madam Pomfrey?" he asked as he enviously watched her dry herself off with a Hot Air Charm.
"That won't be good for your wounds," she said. "I'll dry you off as soon as I'm finished healing the worst of them, all right?"
"Okay."
"Go ahead and take the Pain-Relieving Potion on your bedside table while I'm finishing up."
"Oh, thank goodness," murmured Remus. He grabbed the potion and drank it in one fluid gulp; immediately, the sharp pains all over his body and in his bones lessened to a dull ache. He sighed. "That feels wonderful."
"I'm glad. Lie down, now. I can't cast a Warm Air Charm, but I can cast a Warming Charm."
A few seconds later, Remus felt even better. "That's excellent," he said tiredly. "Really, really brilliant. Oh, I could go to sleep right now."
"Please don't. Tell me where it hurts most."
"Er… probably my arm. It's not too bad, though. And my left hand, but it's all right. And my right foot. But other than that… honestly, Madam Pomfrey? I feel wonderful."
"Your definition of 'wonderful' is a very confusing one indeed," said Madam Pomfrey. She waved her wand at Remus' arm; with a sharp snap, it popped into place.
"I heard that," said Remus proudly. "You healed my arm and I heard it."
"Oh, well done. Double points if you can see it, too." Madam Pomfrey smiled. "I'm only joking, Remus. I'm very happy for you, I promise."
"I know. And… oh! Professor Dumbledore is at the door! I can hear him!"
She sighed. "All right. I'll let him in. Don't move an inch, Remus, you hear me?"
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey. I hear you, all right."
And so Remus lied in bed, relishing in the fact that he could eavesdrop on the goings-on of the main ward once again. He listened to Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore talking. He listened to Madam Pomfrey filling Dumbledore in on Remus' injuries. He listened as Dumbledore walked towards Madam Pomfrey's office (where Remus was staying) and opened the door.
"Good morning, Remus," said Professor Dumbledore pleasantly, and Remus could hear it. "I trust you got through the night with minimal injuries?"
"I feel wonderful," breathed Remus. "I could run a mile."
Madam Pomfrey nearly dropped her wand at that. "You most certainly could not!" she screeched. "Don't even joke about running right now, Remus!"
"Oh, fine," said Remus, and Madam Pomfrey (to his great dismay) dropped a cap in the jar. "My point is… I'm really, really happy to be able to hear again. I feel so much more like myself."
"I'm glad. And how are you feeling on other counts? I imagine you have a lot of schoolwork to catch up on. Are you feeling stressed at all?"
"Well, there wasn't much else to do besides read during the past month, so I think I'll catch up all right. Is Professor Flitwick angry at all that I missed Duelling Club?"
"Goodness, no. He is very impressed with your abilities, and he wholeheartedly believes that you can stand to miss a few days of duelling practice—especially if it interferes with your physical or mental well-being. I am certain that your other teachers feel the same way."
"That's very kind of them."
"And it is very kind of you, Remus, to be so dedicated and respectful. Now, I must be going—I simply wanted to check in. I am very glad that you're feeling better. Toodles."
With that, Dumbledore left the Hospital Wing, and Remus leaned back and waited for Madam Pomfrey to finish healing his wounds. When he finally got permission to do so, he fell asleep—and, counterintuitively, it was much easier to drift off in the presence of noise than it had been in the presence of nothing but quiet. It just felt more natural.
When Remus' friends entered the Hospital Wing early the next day, they didn't even bother to ask if Remus could hear again. They were fuming.
"Snape broke into our dormitory again," said James, poison lacing his words. "He stole the container where we had to keep the Mandrake leaves. We have to start over. Again."
Remus shifted, uncomfortable. "Oh, no," he said. "That's awful."
"He's awful. I can't believe he would do something like that. What a terrible, horrible, awful person. We took care of him, don't worry. Got detention for a week, but we took care of him, all right."
"What did you do?!"
"Tied his shoelace to a broomstick and laughed as he whizzed down the corridor, helplessly dangling."
Horrified, Remus timidly said, "He could have gotten hurt."
"Yes, that was rather the point," said Sirius.
"He'll think twice about stealing our stuff again," came James' savage words.
"The Marauders are the winner once again!" said Peter.
Remus didn't think that any of this constituted as "winning", but he kept his mouth shut. "I can hear again," he said, changing the subject as smoothly as possible (which wasn't very smoothly at all).
James chuckled. "Well, yeah. I got that. Wasn't it what you expected? Poppy told us that you'd probably be fine after the moon."
"Yes, but I'm still happy about it. Sort of like after you win a Quidditch game. You expected it, but you're still happy."
"Oh." Quidditch metaphors, Remus suspected, were just about the only kind that James understood. "That makes sense. Yeah."
"How are you feeling besides that?" asked Peter.
"Pretty well, actually. You know…" Remus took a deep breath and gathered up his courage. "I think you should stop the whole Mandrake thing. It's not working, and I don't really want you to do it anyway. I get that you're trying to help, but I went through so many awful cures when I was younger, and… and I hate them. I hate the whole process. Please stop trying to find a cure and just let me live in peace."
"Ah, but this one is different, Moony mate of mine," said James, clapping Remus on the back.
Remus winced. "How so?"
"This cure is coming from the Marauders themselves, and we're incredibly clever. It'll work; I solemnly swear it."
"We can't just stand back and watch things like this happen to you," said Peter. "It's horrible. Absolutely awful. We need to fix it."
"You get used to it after a while," said Remus desperately.
"If that's really true, and it's really not so bad, then why are you so opposed to biting us?" James said. "If it's not bad, then we'll just pop over to the Shrieking Shack next moon and you can give us a quick bite. Then we'll all be werewolves together."
"But!" Remus spluttered. "But! No! No! Don't even joke about that!"
"Why? If people 'get used to it after a while', then what's the problem?"
"I…! Ugh, James, you're so annoying! No! It's not unbearable is my point. It's still frightfully unpleasant!"
"And that, Moony," said Sirius triumphantly, "is why we're going to fix it. No matter what old Snivelly does. We're the Marauders, and we can overcome any obstacle!"
Remus sighed. The metaphorical rain was once again dripping into his face, and it ran into his eyes and stung horribly. "You won't," he said, "but I won't argue anymore. It's exhausting." Oh, Remus needed an umbrella. He was sick of this rain. "Why don't we play a game of chess? I practiced the other day with the Founders, so I should be much better than I was."
He wasn't. But that was all right, because the domestic, relaxing game managed to build a strong umbrella over Remus' head, and—even though he was losing—he was protected from the rain.
There was a storm cloud over Remus' head, but he was okay. He was fine. As long as he had an umbrella, Remus would be—if one excused the pun—right as rain.
