Chapter 11
“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?” Lily asks for the millionth time.
“I’m sure, Lily.”
“I can owl my parents and tell them –”
“No, Lily. You’re not going to give up skiing with you parents for me.”
“It’s really okay –”
“No, Lily.” I sigh. “I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” The look she gives me tells me she knows I’m lying.
“I want you to have fun,” I tell her. “And I can survive on my own until next term starts.”
Lily gives a sigh of her own. “I know you can survive,” she admits. “I just hate leaving you like this. Especially over Christmas.”
“Lily –”
“And you’re not going to be ‘on your own.’ I wouldn’t worry so much if you were. You’re going to be with Black. Just Black. James and Peter are both going home.”
“I know they’re both going home,” I snap, and instantly regret it. She’s just trying to look out for me and, quite honestly, I wouldn’t have gotten through the past couple days without her.
“So –”
“So there’s nothing you can do anyway.”
“You haven’t even spoken to him –”
“And what would you have me say?” Another sigh escapes my
lips. “Look, Lily, I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve
done for me, but I can’t rely on you forever. And you can’t keep giving up your
life for
I give her a tight hug and kiss both her cheeks before turning her around and pushing her towards the carriages waiting to take students back to the train.
She looks back at me and waves, grinning ruefully, then disappears inside one of the coaches that is already carrying one of her friends.
“All right?” a voice asks behind me.
I turn to see James and Peter swathed in cloaks and scarves.
I raise an eyebrow at James. “Don’t I look all right?” I inquire.
“No,” he says flatly.
I sigh again. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. “Then don’t bother asking.”
“Remus –”
“No. Don’t.” I look at the ground. “I’m sorry. I just went through this with Lily.”
James scuffs a booted toe against the flagstones. “How, er, how is she?”
I look up at him. “Worried,” I tell him frankly.
“We are, too, you know,” Peter says quietly.
“I know.” I manage a small smile for him. “Have a good holiday, you two.” Impulsively, I hug them both.
James kisses my cheek before pulling out of the embrace, then runs a hand awkwardly through his hair.
“Old habits die hard?” I ask, quirking a brow at him.
“Just… owl if he bothers you,” James says gruffly, ignoring my teasing. “I’ll kick his arse into next year.”
“That’s not very far. It’s almost next year as is,” I remind him teasingly, but I’m touched all the same.
“Remus.”
“I can take care of myself,” I tell him.
“I know. But –”
“You’ll feel better if you’re doing something. I know. I understand. And I will.”
“Thank you.”
“You’d better go, or they’ll leave without you.”
“Bye, Rem,” James grabs me in a hug again, then releases me and makes a beeline for the carriage Lily had joined her friend in.
“Have a good holiday,” Peter says and mimics James by hugging me again.
“You, too, Pete,” I say.
He follows James to Lily’s carriage.
I wait several more minutes while the rest of the students going home for the holidays pile into the carriages, then watch as they trundle off down the path and through the gates. I suppress yet another sigh, and turn to go back inside.
I stop.
He’s standing on the top step, watching me with tired grey eyes.
My breath catches and my knees feel week.
I grit my teeth and move forward again, pushing past him and into the entry hall without a word. Once inside, I force myself to keep walking at a steady pace towards the library. I refuse to run.
I go straight to my corner of the library. My corner is quiet even in the busiest of times for the library (around exams) and today there isn’t a soul in sight, either alive or dead. I know the librarian is around somewhere, but there don’t seem to be any professors or any other students – it is the first day of the holidays after all.
The bold front I put on for my friends wants to shatter, but I can’t let it. I need it to stay in place for myself far more than I ever needed it for them.
I pull one of the books at random from my secret stash behind the desk and try to read, but I can’t seem to focus enough to even know what it is I’m reading. Images are crowding my head, but I don’t know which way to look. It’s all grey eyes, tan skin, and silky black hair.
I slam the book shut in frustration.
Leave me alone! I scream at the visions in my mind.
I can feel the anger boiling in my veins and I cling to it. I can’t handle the hurt that comes when fury dies, the pain of loss and betrayal. I’ve spent a week trying to forget the gaping hole in my chest, trying to cover it up in rage, telling my friends I’m all right. Lily and James see through me, even Peter can tell I’m lying. But they’re my friends, so they pretend to believe me, and they’ve done everything they can. James and Lily feel guilty, I can see it in their eyes, but they don’t speak of it, any more than I do. Peter feels left out, but is trying not to let it show; I wish I could feel sorry for him, or at least explain to him that we weren’t trying to exclude him, but I can’t even explain any of it to myself.
I can feel the wolf inside me, even as the moon wanes. It doesn’t understand. It knows something is wrong and, on a basic level, knows that whatever’s wrong has to do with him. But the wolf knows nothing of betrayal. It knows instinct. And instinct tells it that what it wants is very close.
The rest of me feels like it’s dying – and anger is the only cure I’ve found. But the anger is weakening, or perhaps this ache is becoming immune to the medicine.
I realize I’m staring blankly at the cover of my book. I can’t read the title. My vision is blurry. I rub my eyes and my fingers come away damp. I look at them for a long moment, not comprehending.
I can’t do this anymore, I think desperately, but I don’t even know what this is.
The quiet of the library is pounding in my ears, giving me a headache. Or maybe it’s the headache pounding in my ears.
I rise and walk out, not bothering to put the book away. For once in my life, I don’t care about books. They’re no help to me anymore. I tried to hide in them and they failed me. I trusted them and they betrayed my trust. I know it’s not the books and it’s not even really him, it’s me. I can’t even blame the wolf for this, I never could. The wolf is what it is. But so am I.
I wander aimlessly around the castle, hearing my footsteps echo in the empty corridors. All alone, they seem to say. All alone.
My feet come to a stop in front of a familiar doorway. I stare
at it for a long moment, then reach out an open it. I climb the steep spiral
staircase inside, straight to the top. At the peak, I push open another door,
and step out into the cold air on top of the
As I leave the shelter of the stairwell, the biting wind hits me full in the face and I smell him. My eyes scan the tower top almost against my will, squinting against the glare.
He’s sitting on the crenellated wall, wedged into one of the stone notches, feet hanging down outside.
The door slams shut behind me, making me jump.
He turns at the sound.
I can’t move.
Even from this distance I can see him perfectly. His hair is loose and tangled from the wind. Salt water bleeds from his grey eyes. His cheeks and nose are red.
Something clenches within me, in my chest, in my stomach, behind my eyes. I desperately clutch my rage and hold it close as he slides out of the notch and crosses the tower-top towards me, his boots leaving prints in the light snow covering the flags.
He stops just out of arm’s reach.
I turn and grasp the doorknob. I can’t be this close to him. I want to jump him. Whether to kill him outright or just to give him a little death (1) I don’t know. Either way, I don’t want to find out.
I pull, but nothing happens. The knob won’t turn. It’s locked. I reach for my wand, only to remember it’s in the dorm.
“Remus.” His voice is low and a little scratchy. I haven’t heard it in days and I can feel my insides melting.
I don’t turn.
“Remus.”
I lean my forehead against the door, trying to wish it open.
“Don’t ignore me!” his voice is desperate and broken. “Hate me if you want to, I deserve that, but don’t ignore me!”
I push away from the door and spin towards him.
He’s closer, barely a foot away. I can see the dark circles under his eyes, the red of his lips, and the way his black lashes curl slightly at the ends. The scent of him is overwhelming. I can feel the heat radiating from his body and I want him. For a moment, I forget. I forget everything he’s done, everything he hasn’t done, everything I should have done, the things I shouldn’t have done, all the reasons I should be staying away from him.
Then the cold wind hits again. And I remember.
His eyes meet mine. I don’t know what he sees, but, though he doesn’t move, he pulls away. “Hit me,” he says.
“What?” I am so startled the word is out of my mouth before I remember that I’m not speaking to him.
“Hit me,” he says again.
“Why should I hit you?” I ask.
“Why shouldn’t you?” he counters.
I can feel the tension climbing with every passing second and I realize I want to hit him. I want to hurt him like he’s hurt me, like I’ve hurt myself. I want to take out my anger and my pain on him. I want to fight with something I can see, something I can touch, something that’s not inside me. But I can’t give into this desire any more than I can give in to any of the other desires that course through my veins. “I don’t want to hit you,” I inform him.
His eyes burn into mine. “Liar.”
I grit my teeth. “Why are you pushing this?”
“At least you’re talking to me.”
“Let me off of this roof.” The words come out in a low growl that surprises even me. I can’t handle this.
His eyes tell me he knows I’m moments from breaking. When he speaks, his voice is a husky whisper. “Just hit me already! I know you’ve been dying to!”
I’m not sure when he moved closer, but his scent and the heat of his body are threatening to drown me. Without thinking, my hand lashes out and I slap him across the face.
The force of the blow, girlish as it may be, makes his head snap sideways. He turns slowly back towards me, icy eyes hot as they meet mine again. My handprint stands out sharply on his cheek.
“That the best you can do?” he demands mockingly, still in a whisper.
The fury that I’ve been trying to build up boils on its own at his words. I lunge forward.
He catches me and throws me back against the door. It shudders as he pins me in place.
I struggle weakly against him, but the anger I felt only moments before is almost gone. He’s pressed so close I can feel his breath washing across my face every time he exhales. The heat in my blood is pure need.
“You’re stronger than this,” he breathes. I can smell salt water from his tears and something spicy that I can’t place.
What’s he trying to do? I wonder. Does he realize that, with the full moon still so close, I could kill him? Does he just want proof that, despite everything, I won’t? Does he know it’s not really him I’m angry at? Is he trying to provoke me so I have something real to fight? Or is he just trying to make this easier on himself through anger, like I am? I try to push him away without hurting him.
His laugh is bitter. “Stop trying to hit me and hit me.” (2)
I pray he isn’t quite close enough to feel the heat I can feel building inside of me. I have to get him away from me before I do something stupid. I realize I can’t hurt him. The wolf doesn’t want to. I don’t want to. But there are other things I could do that might be worse.
I could kiss him.
TBC
(1) If you know French, you should get the joke. If not, it doesn’t really matter. If you really want to know, you can look it up, or ask. ::laughs and winks::
(2) A line from Morpheus to Neo in the film The Matrix by Andy and Larry Wachowski. Great movie.
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