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shimotsuki.
All Will Be in Order
When Remus Lupin moves in at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he must come to terms with Sirius Black and a friendship too long submerged by mistrust, loss, and Azkaban. He must learn to work with Molly Weasley, who seems to be nearly as frightened of werewolves as she is of Voldemort. Clearly, adjustments will have to be made. ( Remus, Sirius, Molly | GoF>OotP | gen )
Chapter 5: The Full Moon (3420 words | PG/mild profanity)
Author's note: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
duck_or_rabbit, for a super-fast beta job and excellent suggestions. (Revised, September 2011.)
( 1. The Perfect Flat ) | ( 2. The First Mission ) | ( 3. A Long Summer ) | ( 4. A Few Surprises )
-----
( Chapter Index )
All Will Be In Order
5. The Full Moon
Remus peered cautiously around the door into the kitchen. As he had hoped, it was silent and deserted, except for the dust motes floating in the mid-afternoon light that slanted in through the small windows near the ceiling.
He was supposed to be upstairs in one of the empty bedrooms, trapping doxies and Vanishing the mildew that had spread across one entire wall. But he simply couldn’t wait any longer.
Creeping across to the pantry, he rummaged stealthily until he found the block of Cheddar he had picked up the last time he went shopping for the household. He raised his wand to slice the cheese, but his spell went wide and pulverised an apple instead.
Oh, hell. He couldn’t even stop his hands from shaking. I’m bloody useless today.
Remus gritted his teeth, put his wand away, and reached for a knife. He managed to cut a thick slab of cheese and settle it between two slices of Molly’s bread. Without even sparing the time to find a plate, he took a giant bite, gave it a perfunctory chew, and swallowed, shoulders sagging in relief as the cheese worked its miracle.
He made short work of the sandwich and Banished the crumbs, along with the remains of the unfortunate apple. But then he stood in the narrow pantry, hesitating. His hands were steady now, and the gnawing ache in his stomach was appeased—for the moment. Would this be enough to get him through the rest of the afternoon and let him avoid an embarrassing spectacle of greed at supper? He thought longingly of a fried egg (or two), but the sounds and smells of cooking would be harder to hide than a hasty sandwich. He didn’t really even like the thought of taking more of the bread and cheese. Sirius had made it clear that he would underwrite meals for any Order member who wanted to eat at headquarters, but to Remus, afternoon sandwiches felt uncomfortably like having more than one’s fair share. Especially since Molly had made the bread herself.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it all. If he were alone, home in his flat, he’d just spend as much of the day sleeping as possible. That was the simplest strategy for keeping the protein cravings at bay. But he couldn’t sleep all day here, not when there was so much work to be done. He’d be worse than useless tomorrow as it was.
Reluctantly, Remus decided he would take his chances at supper—and risk calling attention to his situation if anyone noticed he was eating more than usual—rather than carry on sneaking food out of the pantry like a thief. Besides, maybe no one would realise it was full moon tonight. After all, no one had said anything to him all day, not even—
“Moony? I hope you’re in here snacking!”
—Sirius.
Remus laughed softly. Trust old Padfoot to keep track of the moon, after all.
Sirius loped into the kitchen with such a cheerful grin that Remus couldn’t help grinning back. Especially since it proved that Sirius wasn’t angry with him any longer.
“I’ve just had a sandwich, actually,” he confessed.
“Good.” Sirius leaned one hip against the worktop, his grin turning slightly feral. “You’d better keep your strength up if we’re going Marauding in the Forbidden Forest tonight.”
Remus felt his own grin fade. “Sirius—”
“Come on, Moony,” Sirius coaxed. The glint in his eye was positively wicked. “I can Apparate us directly to the Forest and turn into Padfoot right away. Where’s the harm? It’ll be just like old times. Not to mention more fun than I’ve had in months!”
Remus lowered himself gingerly into one of the chairs at the long wooden table. He was tired—so tired—and nearly everything ached. It would be so easy just to give in, to let Sirius sweep him along on yet another mad plan.
The wolf would appreciate it, too. There was no denying that Remus would feel a great deal better tomorrow if he spent the full moon running free in the Forbidden Forest instead of pacing and raging inside his tiny flat.
“It’s a lovely summer night for it,” said Sirius, obviously reminiscing. “We’ll run all night tonight, and sleep all day tomorrow—” The wicked grin gleamed again. “And if we happen to sleep through some of Molly’s housecleaning, well, that’s just too bad.”
Remus’s stomach clenched, just as it had every time his responsibilities as a prefect found themselves on a direct collision course with his friends’ plans for some prank. And he’d let Sirius down badly yesterday. Going along with him now would be a way to make up for that.
“You know it’ll be fun,” Sirius wheedled.
Remus closed his eyes.
The last time he had let his emotions overwhelm his judgment, he had rushed off to the Whomping Willow without taking his last dose of Wolfsbane.
He couldn’t afford to make a mistake like that. Never again.
“We can’t, Padfoot,” he said wearily.
“Of course we can.” Sirius still had a grin in his voice.
Remus sighed and rested his forehead on his hand so that he wouldn’t have to see the impish light in his old friend’s eyes turn sullen, then angry, then accusatory. “We can’t. You aren’t big enough to keep the wolf under control by yourself, not without—”
Not without Prongs. He couldn’t say it.
Even so, when he glanced up, Sirius looked stricken.
Remus winced at his own thoughtlessness.
“Besides,” he said hastily, “Wormtail knows what we always used to do. Who’s to say there won’t be an army of Death Eaters lying in wait for you in the Forest?”
“All right—then let’s go to your flat together,” said Sirius, dropping into a chair across the table. He didn’t sound nearly as sullen as Remus had expected. “Padfoot can keep Moony a bit quieter, even if we can’t run free.”
Ah, but it was tempting. Let Sirius have a secret unauthorised adventure for a night—keep the wolf from hurting itself—
“It’s no good, Sirius.” Remus stared at his hands. “If you leave the protection of the Fidelius Charm, anything could happen. We need to keep you safe for Harry’s sake.”
A fist slammed on the table. Remus started and looked up. But the grey eyes that met his weren’t petulant or sullen at all.
They were fierce.
“Who’s going to keep you safe?” Sirius growled.
Remus blinked.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, confused. “I’ve been transforming in that flat for a year now. It’s a good, secure place.”
Sirius scowled. “I don’t know about fine.” He sighed. “At least come back here straight away in the morning, and let me look after you.”
“I don’t need looking after—” Remus began.
Sirius cut him off. “Let me make you breakfast, Moony. Please.”
Remus rubbed at his throbbing temples. At least Sirius wasn’t sulking. The least he could do after being such a wet blanket, he supposed, was to agree to this plan, even if it meant dragging himself back to Grimmauld Place before he’d had a chance to sleep off the worst of the effects of the moon.
Even if it meant letting someone help him when he was at his most vulnerable—and in the greatest danger of starting to depend on that help.
“All right.” Remus found a smile. “Thank you.”
He was a little bit reassured when Sirius dredged up a smile as well.
. * . * .
Early the next morning, Molly came down the stairs into the kitchen, following what had become her daily routine. Except that the figure she found sitting at the table wasn’t Remus, quietly sipping a cup of tea. It was Sirius, scowling at the Daily Prophet.
Her eyes widened. Sirius? At this hour?
She’d rarely seen the man before about ten. In fact, she strongly suspected his leisurely mornings were a deliberate strategy for avoiding the first hour or two of housecleaning duty. But now here he was, only a little after sunrise, looking cross and disgruntled but wide awake all the same. And the cast-iron skillet and pile of plates and teacups in the sink suggested there had already been some breakfast.
“Good morning,” she said, curiosity colouring her voice. “Where’s Remus?”
“In his room, resting.” A corner of Sirius’s lip curled into a belligerent smirk—a challenge. “Full moon last night, you know.”
“Oh.” Molly went pale. “I hadn’t realised.” She was unable to repress a shudder.
Sirius gave her a frosty look. “There’s really no need to be so melodramatic about it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “But you must admit the idea is quite frightening.”
“If you think the idea is frightening, try asking Remus how much he enjoys the transformation itself.” Sirius bent over the newspaper again.
Molly stared at the top of his head. Talking to Sirius always made her feel a little uncomfortable—as though he were still the handsome, popular boy he’d apparently been at Hogwarts, and she still a slightly frumpy prefect who worried about getting homework finished on time. But he seemed particularly volatile where Remus was concerned.
She frowned a little.
Having a werewolf in the Order already made things complicated enough, without Sirius acting so difficult every time the subject came up.
Things didn’t get much better as the morning wore on. On the one hand, Sirius seemed to have much more energy for cleaning than usual—almost as though he were trying to make up for Remus’s absence. But he wasn’t very good at housecleaning spells. Worse still, he snarled and sulked, and it put the children in a restless mood.
And that, Molly realised suddenly, had something to do with Remus’s absence as well. Normally, Remus would have sensed the growing irritability among the cleaning corps, and come out with one of his well-timed hints or wry remarks to keep the children (and Sirius) focussed. Instead, Sirius scowled and thumped his way through the morning, leaving chaos and cobwebs in his wake, and Molly had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him.
Right before noon, when she had the twins levitating an ancient mouldering divan so that she could cast disinfecting spells on the carpet beneath it, Sirius actually disappeared. Molly supposed he’d finally given up even trying to be helpful. She couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or relieved.
But when she went down to the kitchen to see about lunch a few minutes later, there he was, busy loading a large bowl of soup and two thick sandwiches onto a tray.
“Is Remus still upstairs resting?” Molly heard her own voice come out sounding almost shy. “I could take that up to him, if you’d like. I was thinking just now that I’d make him some sandwiches when I made lunch for everyone else.”
“That’s all right.” Sirius’s tone was gruff, but his expression was friendlier than it had been. “I’ll take it up. He needs his privacy right now.”
“Is he—” Molly hesitated, but Sirius didn’t start sneering, so she went on. “Is he ill, the day after?”
Sirius shook his head soberly. “Not ill, exactly, but the transformation is exhausting and very painful.” He frowned, and this time Molly understood what she was seeing in his eyes: worry. “It seems the wolf spent hours throwing itself against the walls last night. Remus has a cracked rib and bruises all down his left side. I’ve given him a couple of healing potions, but I don’t think he’ll come downstairs until tomorrow. At least.”
Molly bit her lip. “If there’s anything at all I can do to help, please let me know.”
Wonder of wonders, Sirius smiled at her as though he actually meant it. “Thanks. But Remus is tough, and he’s used to this. We’ve got it handled.”
He nodded briskly, levitated the tray, and disappeared up the stairs behind it.
Molly watched him go.
All of this sounded like rather a lot for someone to have to be used to, no matter how tough he might be.
. * . * .
Sirius trudged up the stairs toward the second floor, frowning at the lunch tray that bobbed along just ahead of him. We’ve got it handled, he’d said to Molly.
Did he, really?
He’d been frightened—truly frightened—when Remus had stumbled out of the Floo this morning, his face white with pain and both hands pressed against his side where the rib was cracked. He didn’t remember Moony ever looking quite that bad before. Was this an effect of aging?
Or had time and other griefs merely eroded his memories of the moons before they’d all mastered the Animagus transformation and started keeping Remus company?
He’d tried to bully Remus into calling Poppy Pomfrey to come have a look at him. Remus had laughed off Sirius’s concern—or tried to, until the broken rib stopped him short—and said all he needed was time for the Bonesetting Charm he’d already cast to do its work.
Now, halfway up the dank stairway, Sirius thought about Remus facing this alone, month after month, for fourteen years.
Rage blazed, white-hot. Damn that rat. It was all he could do not to grab the floating tray and hurl it at the wall just to hear the china smash.
Especially since Peter wasn’t the only one he was angry with.
Sirius had reached the second-floor landing. He stopped and leaned his head against the musty, peeling wallpaper.
We’ve got it handled, he’d said.
But was there really a we anymore?
He thought about how long it had taken, when they were at Hogwarts, for Remus to get used to the idea that Sirius and James (and Peter) wanted to visit him in the hospital wing after full moons. For most of their second year, Remus had stiffened right up when they appeared, his eyes wide and wary. Sirius still remembered the relief he’d felt the first time Remus finally made a joke about the transformation—the first sign he had given that he trusted them not to turn on him or shut him out.
But wasn’t shutting Remus out exactly what Sirius had done, years later, once Peter started dropping those evil little hints?
And Remus knew it, too.
Sirius sighed. He thought they had taken a few steps toward mending old hurts that first evening in the house, over firewhisky, but he wasn’t entirely sure. And now—Remus had insisted on spending the full moon alone. Was that really because he was worried about Sirius being caught?
Or was it—Sirius couldn’t help wondering—was it a sign that he had lost that fragile trust that had taken so long to earn the first time?
A few more paces along the hallway, and he and the lunch tray were hovering outside Remus’s door.
“Well,” he whispered to the soup and the sandwiches, “here we go.”
Sirius knocked softly. “Moony? You awake? I’ve brought you some lunch.”
There was no answer at first. But then came a faint “Alohomora,” and the door swung open.
Sirius waved the tray ahead and stepped inside.
The curtains were pulled back away from the windows, letting warm sunlight fill the room. Remus had managed to hoist himself into a sitting position despite the cracked rib. He still looked absolutely dreadful, with hollow cheeks and great purple smudges under his eyes, but he was smiling.
“Feeding me again already, Padfoot?”
“You’re lucky I’m such a good cook,” said Sirius airily. But he was measuring the relaxed set of Remus’s shoulders, and noting that the smile had reached his eyes.
Maybe he hadn’t mucked things up with Moony—not completely.
. * . * .
Late in the afternoon, Molly left Sirius and the children hard at work removing a colony of Chizpurfles from a tiger-skin rug in one of the bedrooms on the third floor and started down toward the kitchen to see about dinner.
The door to the bathroom on the second floor opened just as she reached the landing. In a cloud of steam, Remus emerged, wearing faded pyjamas under a rather shabby dressing gown. He was moving slowly, with one hand on the wall for support, and he stopped short when he saw her.
“Hello, Remus,” she said, feeling the usual nervous smile spread over her face. But the source of her discomfort was different this time; uppermost in her mind was worry about what she was supposed to say. Maybe it was best to keep things simple. “How are you feeling?”
He smiled back, his own habitually careful smile, although that polite, controlled expression looked out of place now that there were deep lines of exhaustion around his eyes. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been any use today. I’ll see what I can do tomorrow.”
Molly noticed that he hadn’t answered her question.
“No, no,” she said quickly, “take your time and have a good rest. We’re doing fine.”
Remus gave a subdued nod and another careful smile. He stood there, looking slightly uncomfortable, but he made no move to leave.
Molly suddenly remembered what Sirius had said about privacy—maybe Remus didn’t want to have to drag himself along the hallway in front of an audience.
She cast about for a reason to go away. “Shall I bring you a cup of tea?”
Remus blinked, looking surprised and even grateful, which sent a small stab of guilt Molly’s way. Now she rather wished she hadn’t thought of it only as an excuse.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “That would be very nice.”
“You go on and get settled, then, and I’ll bring it straight up.” Molly turned and hurried down the stairs toward the kitchen. As soon as she’d rounded the first corner, she heard the slow, uneven footsteps resume overhead.
It only took her five minutes to brew a cup of tea and dash back up to the second floor. There was no sign of Remus in the hallway, but he’d left the door of his room ajar—it could only be for her, since she’d never seen it open before.
She knocked gently and poked her head around the edge of the door. Remus had climbed back into bed. He must have been too tired to wait for the tea after all; his eyes were closed, and he was snoring softly.
Molly’s conscience pricked her, but she couldn’t help taking advantage of the opportunity to look around his room. It was furnished in the same dark heavy style as every other room in the house, but it felt brighter, because the gloomy velvet drapes had been pulled back to let in as much daylight as possible. The furniture and floor were scrubbed spotless, which was hardly surprising, and the few things in the room that looked like personal belongings—mostly books and papers—were stacked in orderly piles. The only thing out of place was the dressing gown, which lay crumpled on the floor by the side of the bed.
She stepped quietly inside and set the teacup down on the bedside table, casting a Warming charm on it that ought to last for two or three hours. The tea would taste warmed over, but at least Remus would have something hot to drink when he woke again.
For a moment, she stood there next to the bed, looking down at him as he slept. His face was much more open and unguarded than she was used to seeing, and despite his obvious exhaustion it made him look years younger. Not so very much older than Bill, really.
Remus stirred slightly, and Molly blushed, realising that she’d been staring. She started to turn away.
Then, on an impulse, she bent down and picked up the dressing gown. It seemed to have been blue once, but now it was even more faded and threadbare than the one she’d been begging Arthur for years to get rid of. She shook it out and hung it neatly on a hook on the back of the door.
With another quick glance at the still, silent form in the bed, she slipped out again, closing the door carefully behind her.
. * . * .
( On to Ch 6 ) ( Up to Chapter Index )
.
All Will Be in Order
When Remus Lupin moves in at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he must come to terms with Sirius Black and a friendship too long submerged by mistrust, loss, and Azkaban. He must learn to work with Molly Weasley, who seems to be nearly as frightened of werewolves as she is of Voldemort. Clearly, adjustments will have to be made. ( Remus, Sirius, Molly | GoF>OotP | gen )
Chapter 5: The Full Moon (3420 words | PG/mild profanity)
Author's note: Many thanks to
duck_or_rabbit, for a super-fast beta job and excellent suggestions. (Revised, September 2011.)- “Good morning,” said Molly, curiosity colouring her voice. “Where’s Remus?”
“In his room, resting.” A corner of Sirius’s lip curled into a belligerent smirk—a challenge. “Full moon last night, you know.”
“Oh.” Molly went pale. “I hadn’t realised.” She was unable to repress a shudder.
Sirius gave her a frosty look. “There’s really no need to be so melodramatic about it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “But you must admit the idea is quite frightening.”
“If you think the idea is frightening, try asking Remus how much he enjoys the transformation itself.” Sirius bent over the newspaper again.
Molly stared at the top of his head.
( 1. The Perfect Flat ) | ( 2. The First Mission ) | ( 3. A Long Summer ) | ( 4. A Few Surprises )
-----
( Chapter Index )
5. The Full Moon
"It is very painful to turn into a werewolf."
—Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 18
. * . * . "But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black...Peter Pettigrew...and, of course, your father, Harry—James Potter."
—Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 18
—Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 18
—Prisoner of Azkaban, chapter 18
He was supposed to be upstairs in one of the empty bedrooms, trapping doxies and Vanishing the mildew that had spread across one entire wall. But he simply couldn’t wait any longer.
Creeping across to the pantry, he rummaged stealthily until he found the block of Cheddar he had picked up the last time he went shopping for the household. He raised his wand to slice the cheese, but his spell went wide and pulverised an apple instead.
Oh, hell. He couldn’t even stop his hands from shaking. I’m bloody useless today.
Remus gritted his teeth, put his wand away, and reached for a knife. He managed to cut a thick slab of cheese and settle it between two slices of Molly’s bread. Without even sparing the time to find a plate, he took a giant bite, gave it a perfunctory chew, and swallowed, shoulders sagging in relief as the cheese worked its miracle.
He made short work of the sandwich and Banished the crumbs, along with the remains of the unfortunate apple. But then he stood in the narrow pantry, hesitating. His hands were steady now, and the gnawing ache in his stomach was appeased—for the moment. Would this be enough to get him through the rest of the afternoon and let him avoid an embarrassing spectacle of greed at supper? He thought longingly of a fried egg (or two), but the sounds and smells of cooking would be harder to hide than a hasty sandwich. He didn’t really even like the thought of taking more of the bread and cheese. Sirius had made it clear that he would underwrite meals for any Order member who wanted to eat at headquarters, but to Remus, afternoon sandwiches felt uncomfortably like having more than one’s fair share. Especially since Molly had made the bread herself.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn it all. If he were alone, home in his flat, he’d just spend as much of the day sleeping as possible. That was the simplest strategy for keeping the protein cravings at bay. But he couldn’t sleep all day here, not when there was so much work to be done. He’d be worse than useless tomorrow as it was.
Reluctantly, Remus decided he would take his chances at supper—and risk calling attention to his situation if anyone noticed he was eating more than usual—rather than carry on sneaking food out of the pantry like a thief. Besides, maybe no one would realise it was full moon tonight. After all, no one had said anything to him all day, not even—
“Moony? I hope you’re in here snacking!”
—Sirius.
Remus laughed softly. Trust old Padfoot to keep track of the moon, after all.
Sirius loped into the kitchen with such a cheerful grin that Remus couldn’t help grinning back. Especially since it proved that Sirius wasn’t angry with him any longer.
“I’ve just had a sandwich, actually,” he confessed.
“Good.” Sirius leaned one hip against the worktop, his grin turning slightly feral. “You’d better keep your strength up if we’re going Marauding in the Forbidden Forest tonight.”
Remus felt his own grin fade. “Sirius—”
“Come on, Moony,” Sirius coaxed. The glint in his eye was positively wicked. “I can Apparate us directly to the Forest and turn into Padfoot right away. Where’s the harm? It’ll be just like old times. Not to mention more fun than I’ve had in months!”
Remus lowered himself gingerly into one of the chairs at the long wooden table. He was tired—so tired—and nearly everything ached. It would be so easy just to give in, to let Sirius sweep him along on yet another mad plan.
The wolf would appreciate it, too. There was no denying that Remus would feel a great deal better tomorrow if he spent the full moon running free in the Forbidden Forest instead of pacing and raging inside his tiny flat.
“It’s a lovely summer night for it,” said Sirius, obviously reminiscing. “We’ll run all night tonight, and sleep all day tomorrow—” The wicked grin gleamed again. “And if we happen to sleep through some of Molly’s housecleaning, well, that’s just too bad.”
Remus’s stomach clenched, just as it had every time his responsibilities as a prefect found themselves on a direct collision course with his friends’ plans for some prank. And he’d let Sirius down badly yesterday. Going along with him now would be a way to make up for that.
“You know it’ll be fun,” Sirius wheedled.
Remus closed his eyes.
The last time he had let his emotions overwhelm his judgment, he had rushed off to the Whomping Willow without taking his last dose of Wolfsbane.
He couldn’t afford to make a mistake like that. Never again.
“We can’t, Padfoot,” he said wearily.
“Of course we can.” Sirius still had a grin in his voice.
Remus sighed and rested his forehead on his hand so that he wouldn’t have to see the impish light in his old friend’s eyes turn sullen, then angry, then accusatory. “We can’t. You aren’t big enough to keep the wolf under control by yourself, not without—”
Not without Prongs. He couldn’t say it.
Even so, when he glanced up, Sirius looked stricken.
Remus winced at his own thoughtlessness.
“Besides,” he said hastily, “Wormtail knows what we always used to do. Who’s to say there won’t be an army of Death Eaters lying in wait for you in the Forest?”
“All right—then let’s go to your flat together,” said Sirius, dropping into a chair across the table. He didn’t sound nearly as sullen as Remus had expected. “Padfoot can keep Moony a bit quieter, even if we can’t run free.”
Ah, but it was tempting. Let Sirius have a secret unauthorised adventure for a night—keep the wolf from hurting itself—
“It’s no good, Sirius.” Remus stared at his hands. “If you leave the protection of the Fidelius Charm, anything could happen. We need to keep you safe for Harry’s sake.”
A fist slammed on the table. Remus started and looked up. But the grey eyes that met his weren’t petulant or sullen at all.
They were fierce.
“Who’s going to keep you safe?” Sirius growled.
Remus blinked.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, confused. “I’ve been transforming in that flat for a year now. It’s a good, secure place.”
Sirius scowled. “I don’t know about fine.” He sighed. “At least come back here straight away in the morning, and let me look after you.”
“I don’t need looking after—” Remus began.
Sirius cut him off. “Let me make you breakfast, Moony. Please.”
Remus rubbed at his throbbing temples. At least Sirius wasn’t sulking. The least he could do after being such a wet blanket, he supposed, was to agree to this plan, even if it meant dragging himself back to Grimmauld Place before he’d had a chance to sleep off the worst of the effects of the moon.
Even if it meant letting someone help him when he was at his most vulnerable—and in the greatest danger of starting to depend on that help.
“All right.” Remus found a smile. “Thank you.”
He was a little bit reassured when Sirius dredged up a smile as well.
Early the next morning, Molly came down the stairs into the kitchen, following what had become her daily routine. Except that the figure she found sitting at the table wasn’t Remus, quietly sipping a cup of tea. It was Sirius, scowling at the Daily Prophet.
Her eyes widened. Sirius? At this hour?
She’d rarely seen the man before about ten. In fact, she strongly suspected his leisurely mornings were a deliberate strategy for avoiding the first hour or two of housecleaning duty. But now here he was, only a little after sunrise, looking cross and disgruntled but wide awake all the same. And the cast-iron skillet and pile of plates and teacups in the sink suggested there had already been some breakfast.
“Good morning,” she said, curiosity colouring her voice. “Where’s Remus?”
“In his room, resting.” A corner of Sirius’s lip curled into a belligerent smirk—a challenge. “Full moon last night, you know.”
“Oh.” Molly went pale. “I hadn’t realised.” She was unable to repress a shudder.
Sirius gave her a frosty look. “There’s really no need to be so melodramatic about it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “But you must admit the idea is quite frightening.”
“If you think the idea is frightening, try asking Remus how much he enjoys the transformation itself.” Sirius bent over the newspaper again.
Molly stared at the top of his head. Talking to Sirius always made her feel a little uncomfortable—as though he were still the handsome, popular boy he’d apparently been at Hogwarts, and she still a slightly frumpy prefect who worried about getting homework finished on time. But he seemed particularly volatile where Remus was concerned.
She frowned a little.
Having a werewolf in the Order already made things complicated enough, without Sirius acting so difficult every time the subject came up.
Things didn’t get much better as the morning wore on. On the one hand, Sirius seemed to have much more energy for cleaning than usual—almost as though he were trying to make up for Remus’s absence. But he wasn’t very good at housecleaning spells. Worse still, he snarled and sulked, and it put the children in a restless mood.
And that, Molly realised suddenly, had something to do with Remus’s absence as well. Normally, Remus would have sensed the growing irritability among the cleaning corps, and come out with one of his well-timed hints or wry remarks to keep the children (and Sirius) focussed. Instead, Sirius scowled and thumped his way through the morning, leaving chaos and cobwebs in his wake, and Molly had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him.
Right before noon, when she had the twins levitating an ancient mouldering divan so that she could cast disinfecting spells on the carpet beneath it, Sirius actually disappeared. Molly supposed he’d finally given up even trying to be helpful. She couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or relieved.
But when she went down to the kitchen to see about lunch a few minutes later, there he was, busy loading a large bowl of soup and two thick sandwiches onto a tray.
“Is Remus still upstairs resting?” Molly heard her own voice come out sounding almost shy. “I could take that up to him, if you’d like. I was thinking just now that I’d make him some sandwiches when I made lunch for everyone else.”
“That’s all right.” Sirius’s tone was gruff, but his expression was friendlier than it had been. “I’ll take it up. He needs his privacy right now.”
“Is he—” Molly hesitated, but Sirius didn’t start sneering, so she went on. “Is he ill, the day after?”
Sirius shook his head soberly. “Not ill, exactly, but the transformation is exhausting and very painful.” He frowned, and this time Molly understood what she was seeing in his eyes: worry. “It seems the wolf spent hours throwing itself against the walls last night. Remus has a cracked rib and bruises all down his left side. I’ve given him a couple of healing potions, but I don’t think he’ll come downstairs until tomorrow. At least.”
Molly bit her lip. “If there’s anything at all I can do to help, please let me know.”
Wonder of wonders, Sirius smiled at her as though he actually meant it. “Thanks. But Remus is tough, and he’s used to this. We’ve got it handled.”
He nodded briskly, levitated the tray, and disappeared up the stairs behind it.
Molly watched him go.
All of this sounded like rather a lot for someone to have to be used to, no matter how tough he might be.
Sirius trudged up the stairs toward the second floor, frowning at the lunch tray that bobbed along just ahead of him. We’ve got it handled, he’d said to Molly.
Did he, really?
He’d been frightened—truly frightened—when Remus had stumbled out of the Floo this morning, his face white with pain and both hands pressed against his side where the rib was cracked. He didn’t remember Moony ever looking quite that bad before. Was this an effect of aging?
Or had time and other griefs merely eroded his memories of the moons before they’d all mastered the Animagus transformation and started keeping Remus company?
He’d tried to bully Remus into calling Poppy Pomfrey to come have a look at him. Remus had laughed off Sirius’s concern—or tried to, until the broken rib stopped him short—and said all he needed was time for the Bonesetting Charm he’d already cast to do its work.
Now, halfway up the dank stairway, Sirius thought about Remus facing this alone, month after month, for fourteen years.
Rage blazed, white-hot. Damn that rat. It was all he could do not to grab the floating tray and hurl it at the wall just to hear the china smash.
Especially since Peter wasn’t the only one he was angry with.
Sirius had reached the second-floor landing. He stopped and leaned his head against the musty, peeling wallpaper.
We’ve got it handled, he’d said.
But was there really a we anymore?
He thought about how long it had taken, when they were at Hogwarts, for Remus to get used to the idea that Sirius and James (and Peter) wanted to visit him in the hospital wing after full moons. For most of their second year, Remus had stiffened right up when they appeared, his eyes wide and wary. Sirius still remembered the relief he’d felt the first time Remus finally made a joke about the transformation—the first sign he had given that he trusted them not to turn on him or shut him out.
But wasn’t shutting Remus out exactly what Sirius had done, years later, once Peter started dropping those evil little hints?
And Remus knew it, too.
Sirius sighed. He thought they had taken a few steps toward mending old hurts that first evening in the house, over firewhisky, but he wasn’t entirely sure. And now—Remus had insisted on spending the full moon alone. Was that really because he was worried about Sirius being caught?
Or was it—Sirius couldn’t help wondering—was it a sign that he had lost that fragile trust that had taken so long to earn the first time?
A few more paces along the hallway, and he and the lunch tray were hovering outside Remus’s door.
“Well,” he whispered to the soup and the sandwiches, “here we go.”
Sirius knocked softly. “Moony? You awake? I’ve brought you some lunch.”
There was no answer at first. But then came a faint “Alohomora,” and the door swung open.
Sirius waved the tray ahead and stepped inside.
The curtains were pulled back away from the windows, letting warm sunlight fill the room. Remus had managed to hoist himself into a sitting position despite the cracked rib. He still looked absolutely dreadful, with hollow cheeks and great purple smudges under his eyes, but he was smiling.
“Feeding me again already, Padfoot?”
“You’re lucky I’m such a good cook,” said Sirius airily. But he was measuring the relaxed set of Remus’s shoulders, and noting that the smile had reached his eyes.
Maybe he hadn’t mucked things up with Moony—not completely.
Late in the afternoon, Molly left Sirius and the children hard at work removing a colony of Chizpurfles from a tiger-skin rug in one of the bedrooms on the third floor and started down toward the kitchen to see about dinner.
The door to the bathroom on the second floor opened just as she reached the landing. In a cloud of steam, Remus emerged, wearing faded pyjamas under a rather shabby dressing gown. He was moving slowly, with one hand on the wall for support, and he stopped short when he saw her.
“Hello, Remus,” she said, feeling the usual nervous smile spread over her face. But the source of her discomfort was different this time; uppermost in her mind was worry about what she was supposed to say. Maybe it was best to keep things simple. “How are you feeling?”
He smiled back, his own habitually careful smile, although that polite, controlled expression looked out of place now that there were deep lines of exhaustion around his eyes. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been any use today. I’ll see what I can do tomorrow.”
Molly noticed that he hadn’t answered her question.
“No, no,” she said quickly, “take your time and have a good rest. We’re doing fine.”
Remus gave a subdued nod and another careful smile. He stood there, looking slightly uncomfortable, but he made no move to leave.
Molly suddenly remembered what Sirius had said about privacy—maybe Remus didn’t want to have to drag himself along the hallway in front of an audience.
She cast about for a reason to go away. “Shall I bring you a cup of tea?”
Remus blinked, looking surprised and even grateful, which sent a small stab of guilt Molly’s way. Now she rather wished she hadn’t thought of it only as an excuse.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “That would be very nice.”
“You go on and get settled, then, and I’ll bring it straight up.” Molly turned and hurried down the stairs toward the kitchen. As soon as she’d rounded the first corner, she heard the slow, uneven footsteps resume overhead.
It only took her five minutes to brew a cup of tea and dash back up to the second floor. There was no sign of Remus in the hallway, but he’d left the door of his room ajar—it could only be for her, since she’d never seen it open before.
She knocked gently and poked her head around the edge of the door. Remus had climbed back into bed. He must have been too tired to wait for the tea after all; his eyes were closed, and he was snoring softly.
Molly’s conscience pricked her, but she couldn’t help taking advantage of the opportunity to look around his room. It was furnished in the same dark heavy style as every other room in the house, but it felt brighter, because the gloomy velvet drapes had been pulled back to let in as much daylight as possible. The furniture and floor were scrubbed spotless, which was hardly surprising, and the few things in the room that looked like personal belongings—mostly books and papers—were stacked in orderly piles. The only thing out of place was the dressing gown, which lay crumpled on the floor by the side of the bed.
She stepped quietly inside and set the teacup down on the bedside table, casting a Warming charm on it that ought to last for two or three hours. The tea would taste warmed over, but at least Remus would have something hot to drink when he woke again.
For a moment, she stood there next to the bed, looking down at him as he slept. His face was much more open and unguarded than she was used to seeing, and despite his obvious exhaustion it made him look years younger. Not so very much older than Bill, really.
Remus stirred slightly, and Molly blushed, realising that she’d been staring. She started to turn away.
Then, on an impulse, she bent down and picked up the dressing gown. It seemed to have been blue once, but now it was even more faded and threadbare than the one she’d been begging Arthur for years to get rid of. She shook it out and hung it neatly on a hook on the back of the door.
With another quick glance at the still, silent form in the bed, she slipped out again, closing the door carefully behind her.
( On to Ch 6 ) ( Up to Chapter Index )
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![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-02-22 12:42 pm (UTC)And in typical Remus style he is unprepared for the fact that Sirius is trying to look out for him, that he wants to keep Remus safe. Though, of course, Sirius is having his own share of misunderstandings about the whole thing. I really hope they do manage to reach a point where they can be more secure in their friendship, before, you know... :(
And Molly is getting a very thourough 101 on the realities of being a werewolf isn't she? Not just the gory details, but all the behind the scenes stuff. I love how observant she is, even through her prejudices.
So happy this is your pulped goal! :D
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-02-22 01:07 pm (UTC)I'm looking forward to seeing the next chapter!
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-02-23 04:49 pm (UTC)It also made me think that Sirius isn't the only one trapped for apparently the best of reasons: the wolf is, too, and that was really brought home when restlessness caused Remus' injuries, and how much better off he'd have been if the wolf had been able to let off some of that pent-up energy.
I liked how Sirius and Molly are frightened for such different reasons. Molly's are the more obvious ones, but I loved seeing the start of her fondness for Remus when she realises he's not much older than Bill and sees him as an ill man with all defences down. Sirius' are obviously more complicated, filled with doubts about the past and realisations of how long Remus has had to cope by himself. I look forward to seeing what you're going to do with his friendship with Remus in the last one.
Lastly, this is filled with those lovely little moments of characterisation that just seem to 'fit' so well. I particularly liked Remus so keen to avoid being seen to stuff himself at dinner (aww...) and Molly having a look round his bedroom and taking in how neat and tidy it is. And picking up his dressing-gown. :)
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
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From:no subject
Date: 2010-02-25 04:58 pm (UTC)The very opening enchants me, of course. You make it so exciting... And you know that when we find out what this “can’t wait any longer” is about, I’m just more fascinated and moved. (Why haven’t I thought of making it so clear that Remus needs to eat a lot before the full moon? Well, now that I’ve completed my story, regret and envy are useless, and I can just enjoy reading your evocative description of his hunger. I wouldn’t have spelled out anything about proteins because it sounds too scientific and modern for my magical world – which doesn’t mean it wouldn’t suit yours.)
And I love Sirius here. I’m actually surprised how well he manages to back down and suggest and contend himself with something less than Marauding in the forest. Perhaps that exactly shows how worried he is about Remus.
And Molly. You continue to show the slow change in her attitude wonderfully.
Having read the comments above, I wonder what the quietness derives from and whether you’ve considered it beneficial. The atmosphere is truly effective like this. Perhaps, if you wanted to convey more dimensions in Molly’s experience of those days more vividly, you could have shown us at least a brief scene with some dialogue and action from the children. But I know we’re supposed to focus on these three characters, and since you are not developing any other plot, such a scene with children would not easily serve more purposes. Besides, when you alternate between these three perspectives, I must see it as a merit that it’s left for the reader to imagine how it would feel to share each of these moments with the other two characters.
You write so well and make your characters so real that they and your writing are the best company I could wish for.
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-02-26 06:32 am (UTC)Love Molly's slowing dawning understanding of who Remus really is. She seems to be watching him through the eyes of the other people in the household.
Am anxiously awaiting the next chapter! (and that warm fuzzy robe story too!)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-04-27 08:50 pm (UTC)In any case, this is very good, and I fully intend on reading the other chapters. :)
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-10-15 07:00 pm (UTC)but i really wanted to tell you that I love you're story!
You make the characters human (well remus is half but we love him anyway)
I hope you're still planning to continue the story...
i've read it a couple of times already and really look foreward to the rest of it!
Greetings from the Netherlands
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2010-12-01 06:27 am (UTC)“In his room, resting.” A corner of Sirius’s lip curled into a belligerent smirk—a challenge.
And, of course:
Remus had laughed off Sirius’s concern—or tried to, until the broken rib stopped him short—
LOL. Also an envious sigh for the hyphens.
(no subject)
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