Written for Toujours Padfoot's Gift-It Challenge and dedicated to Rosie (Perelandra/Remus) and her awesome story His Pack of Four.
As always, that which you recognize from the books belongs to the inimitable JK Rowling.
“I don’t get it, Molly. I know he’s still all broken up over Sirius’s death. Why won’t he just come down off of his bloody high horse and talk to me about it?”
Somewhere along the way, I started spending a lot of time in Molly Weasley’s kitchen. I’m not really sure how it happened, to be honest. I visited a few times when Charlie and I were together, but honestly I avoided her back then. I always had this strange feeling like she could look right into my head and see all of the very unladylike things I was dying to do to her son. With her son. It sounds better that way, somehow, doesn’t it? I still sort of feel like she can see into my head, but it’s more convenient now than embarrassing. I’m rubbish with words.
“I think we’re all still struggling to come to terms with his death, dear.” Her words are pointed, but in a kind way. And she’s right, of course. She’s always right. I can still bring myself to tears in about three seconds if I start thinking about Sirius. So I just don’t think about him. I’m rubbish with words, but compared to the way I deal with my feelings, I’m William Bloody Shakespeare. She waits a moment for her point to sink in, then she goes on.
“Remus took it much harder than the rest of us, though. Sirius was the last of his old friends, with James gone and Peter...” A dark scowl settles over Molly’s features, one that doesn’t belong on such a kind, motherly face. I make a mental note to never get on the wrong side of Molly Weasley. But once again, she’s right. She’s always right.
I like to think I got pretty close to Sirius in the couple of years I knew him. I was drawn to the guy from the moment I met him. Most people are, but my reasons were a little different. He was special to me because I finally met somebody from my mother’s family who wasn’t a raving pureblood nutter. And he understood my sense of humor. I used to turn my hair greasy black and make my nose huge while Snape was talking during Order meetings and he would almost piss himself. Then he told me the story of how Harry’s dad once hung Snape upside down in front of half the school and I really did pee myself. Good old non-verbal Tergeo spell, a girl’s best friend.
Remus didn’t think it was so funny, though. He never seemed to think that Sirius was as charming, funny and clever as the rest of us. But that was just the way they were. Bill and the twins used to call them an old, married couple. They were pretty much inseparable. Sirius couldn’t leave Grimmauld Place without changing into Padfoot and Remus, well, he didn’t really have anywhere to go. Since Snivelpuss outed him as a werewolf to the whole bloody world, he couldn’t get any sort of job. They were stuck with one another, but they didn’t seem to mind. They had a lot of years to make up for.
Molly warms up my tea as her expression gradually returns to the pleasant smile I’m used to. I still want to tell her she’s wrong, even though I know she isn’t. “He has other friends, though. What about Dumbledore and Mad-Eye and Bill?” And me? What about me? How many hours did I spend playing Exploding Snap and Gobstones with the two of them, trying to cheer them up? I lost count of how many nights I took Sirius for a walk and came back with Indian or Chinese take-away. Remus didn’t need to know that the money came from unsuspecting muggles who bet me that my dog couldn’t pick out the Page Three Girls by name. The point is that we would sit up for hours, picking at it and laughing over old stories.
She smiles knowingly at me. This is what confuses me about Molly Weasley. If my mum was giving me the sort of indulgent, “you poor child” smile that I’m getting from Molly right now, it would annoy the hell out of me. Instead, I feel kind of warm and comfortable, like somebody just threw a soft blanket around my shoulders. It must be genetic. She doesn’t even bother rebutting my last statement because I guess it sounded just that stupid.
“Remus is a man, dear.” She says that as though it explains everything. Come to think of it, it does explain a thing or two, but they don’t have anything to do with his emotions. “You have to give him time. Just stay close to him. Be his friend. When he’s ready, he’ll open up.”
She’s right, of course. She’s always right. Even Charlie used to take fifteen or twenty minutes to spill to me if something was really eating at him. But the impatient seven-year-old inside me doesn’t want to hear it. I want Remus to open up and cry on my shoulder now, Now, NOW!
Molly squeezes my hand for a moment where it rests on the side of my mug, offering that extra bit of reassurance. The woman honestly makes me wish I’d tried a lot harder to convince Charlie to stay. I could really get used to being part of this family. But that owl left the roost years ago. Even though I’d still shag his brains out, as soon as we finished I’d be staring my best friend in the face, feeling all weird about him seeing my boobs.
I’m sort of lost in thought when she stands up to take a peek into the oven at some sort of meat pie that smells absolutely divine. She turns back to me and gives me another one of those knowing smiles. “Has Remus asked you out at all? He seems rather taken with you.”
She’s right, of course. She’s always- Wait, what the fuck did she just say? Why would she think Remus is interested in me? Does she know that for sure? Did he say something to her? Has that oven been on the whole time, because it’s really warm in this... kitchen. All I can do in response is make a noise that probably sounds like a twelve-year-old girl squealing at a concert while her best friend tries to choke her to death. Not that I know what that sounds like or anything.
“Mmm hm.” The quick, satisfied smile crosses Molly’s lips and then she just lets the entire topic go. Damn, she’s good. She’s gotten more out of me in five minutes than my mother usually gets in an entire weekend of prodding and prying. Granted, she has some inside information. At least I hope she does. I think I hope she does. Holy shite, I thought I was confused when I walked in here...
I know I’m giving away far too much, but I can’t help myself. How many chances am I going to get to ask the woman who seems to know everything? “So when you said ‘be his friend’, what do you think I should do? I’ve only ever had one real male friend, and Remus isn’t much like Charlie.”
If Molly was exuding a motherly glow before, she’s positively beaming now. It’s actually kind of hard to look at her without feeling like I should be wearing pigtails and knee socks. Actually, I still wear knee socks sometimes.
“Just be yourself, dear, and let him do the same. It’s going to be difficult at times. You’ll have those moments where Sirius would have said something or reacted in a certain way and it’s going to feel terribly empty and sad. Don’t try to hide your feelings from him. Let him see that you want to work through this together.”
It all makes perfect sense when she says it. Except for that part about being myself. I’m not really sure who I am sometimes. Am I the intensely motivated girl who lived in the Hogwarts library for a year to get the N.E.W.T.s I needed, or the goofy girl who makes animal faces to amuse Ginny and Hermione? Am I the brave woman who fought my Aunt Bellatrix or the pitiful little girl who cried herself to sleep every night at St. Mungo’s because I couldn’t beat her and it cost Sirius his life? Do I really want to settle down with a mature, grounded man like Remus or am I still not over Charlie and his militant refusal to grow up? Maybe being able to change your appearance at will screws with your sense of self worse than people realize.
My head is so filled with conflicting ideas that it’s going to take days to sort them all out. I check my watch and slowly rise to my feet. “Thanks, Molly. I have to get back to the Ministry for a briefing and then I’m walking the boundaries at Hogwarts tonight.”
“No trouble, dear. The house is so quiet with Ron and Ginny off at school and Arthur working such long hours. I appreciate the company.”
We exchange a quick hug and then I’m out the door. As I walk down the path toward the edge of the wards, a germ of a thought pops into my head. Remus misses Sirius. We both do, but he lost so much more. Sirius was his last friend from their school days. The last one who knew all of his secrets and understood all of his troubles. Remus lost the last person who could keep him company when...
The idea clicks in my head as I reach the old gate by the road. I snap my fingers and a small smile settles onto my lips. Then I turn and disapparate.
I feel the shiver run down my spine as the door of the Three Broomsticks thumps closed behind me, but it isn’t really because of the bite in the November air. Still, I pull my cloak tighter around myself. Cold air tends to make me feel sober, which would totally defeat the point of the ten Sickles I spent on shots of firewhiskey. I take a quick look around and then start down the overgrown, moonlit path that leads to the Shrieking Shack. Nobody at the bar is going to remember me. I completely changed my appearance and then just to be on the safe side I gently obliviated the only two people who seemed to pay any attention to me.
I’m not really here tonight, you see. I told Mad-Eye that I was having dinner with my parents. I told my parents that I was working surveillance. I told the guy at the desk next to mine that I was going to Bible Study because I don’t like the creepy way he stares at me and maybe if he thinks I’m some kind of prude, he’ll leave me the hell alone. I’m anywhere but Hogsmeade Village, listening to the blood-curdling noises coming from the dilapidated building that looms against the inky blackness of the Dark Forest.
I stop for a moment and recheck the contents of the satchel hanging over my shoulder. I’m a planner by nature, you see. And I feel better as soon as my fingers locate the blankets, spare clothes and several large potion vials tucked away in the bag. Because the sounds coming from the old shack are truly frightening. No wonder the locals think the place is haunted. Why the hell am I even here? Right, because Remus is here. And he smells good, like sandalwood and shaving soap. And he’s quiet and gentle. And he has those eyes. And I love his moustache, I bet it tickles. Just the thought of it makes me giggle. Damn, McCormacks is good firewhiskey. I need to buy a bottle of that stuff.
And just like that, I’m standing in front of the weather-beaten old door that leads inside. Wow, that walk was shorter than it looked. Or maybe I’m drunker than I thought. I have to be drunk, because I’m not even flinching and those awfuls howls are now accompanied by loud banging noises and something that sounds like somebody dragging a garden rake over the floorboards of this dump. I take a deep breath. This is your last chance to bail, Tonks. If this doesn’t work out, people will think you’re the biggest idiot in history. They’ll probably even write that on your tombstone. I open the door and step inside.
The staircase leading to the upper floor doesn’t look like it will hold my weight, but he made it up there somehow and he has at least thirty pounds on me. I shake my head as I climb, restoring my face to its normal appearance. After giving it some thought, I decide to turn my hair purple. I remember catching him staring at me once when it was this shade. At the top of the stairs, there’s a single closed door. I shed my cloak and leave the satchel on the floor beside it. Just to be on the safe side, I disillusion them. I’d hate for them to go missing, although nobody in their right mind would come into this place. Except for me.
I hear growling and scratching behind the door, but it seems to be on the other side of the room. Given the ferocity of the sounds, I imagine he would be tearing the door off its hinges if he could get to it. He must have restrained himself somehow before transforming. According to Sirius, he was always very particular about full moon nights. He would leave something for the wolf to eat, take his clothes off so the wolf wouldn’t tear them to shreds and stash them somewhere safe with his wand. One more way the two of us are similar. It brings a little smile to my lips, in spite of my nerves. There doesn’t seem to be anything else I can do to prepare. I take a deep breath and ease the door open.
The room is lit only by the full moon shining through the filthy, old windows. The feral growl becomes deeper and more threatening as I step inside. I can make out his outline, crouched on the remains of what used to be a mattress in the opposite corner. His yellow eyes glow slightly in the pale, reflected moonlight. I don’t think there’s really any proper etiquette for a moment like this.
“Wotcher, Remus.”
The wolf launches himself at me. Everything happens so fast that it takes me a few seconds to process it all. Bared, yellow fangs are rushing toward me and suddenly there’s a loud yelp and a pair of clawed feet are flailing in the air before the great, hairy body lands on the floor with a thud. I take a couple of tentative steps closer, letting my eyes adjust. The wolf retreats to his corner, snarling and snorting. On one of his arms, I can make out a golden cuff, cutting severely into the furry flesh below. I scan the wall behind him and spot its mate, a golden plate with a single loop of chain, attached with a sticking charm. The two are obviously charmed together, limiting his movement. I feel badly for him.
“Remus, it’s me, Tonks.” I try hard to keep my voice gentle and even. “You remember me, right? Sirius told me that you could remember people if you tried.”
The pitch of the wolf’s growls changes slightly. The hair on the back of his neck is still standing up, but his eyes seem to be studying me. He sniffs the air experimentally.
“That’s right, it’s me. You know me. You know I won’t try to hurt you. I... I want to help you.”
I take another tentative step forward. The wolf snarls and bares his teeth, but he doesn’t sound as frightened. More like he just wants me to keep my distance. I come to a stop.
“I know how lonely you are, Remus. How much you need somebody to talk to.”
The wolf settles onto his haunches. Low vibrations still emanate from deep within his chest, and his glare remains suspicious. I guess he’s made his peace with the fact that he’s stuck with my company. Unless I take three steps closer, in which case he’ll probably tear me limb from limb. I wish I’d thought to bring something for him to eat. Everybody feels less hostile when their belly’s full. Come to think of it, I meant to get dinner at the Three Broomsticks but I was so nervous that all I did was drink. No wonder it hit me so hard. Come on, Tonks, keep the conversation going.
“I know how much you miss Sirius. I miss him, too. I didn’t know him for as long as you did, but he was family. The only family I had besides my Mum and Dad who didn’t hate me. And now he’s gone.” I stare at the wolf, who’s regarding me through suspicious eyes. The growl has moved to the back of his throat. He shifts his weight slightly on the rusty mattress springs and lets out a soft howl. It almost sounds mournful. I suppress a strong urge to run over and pat him on the head.
“We can’t get him back, Remus. But we have each other. Please don’t shut me out.” The wolf tilts his head slightly, like he’s sizing me up. The growls and snarls are mostly gone at this point. I’m not quite sure what to do next. I don’t feel brave enough to get any closer, but I didn’t just come here to talk. Let’s see how much he really understands.
“Sirius told me about how the four of you used to run in the forest at night. He said that you were a pack. I know it’s not the same, but I want to be part of your pack. I want you to have that again. I don’t want you to be alone.”
I start to ease forward again. I can smell his breath and his fur. He smells sort of like a dog, but a clean dog with vague hints of shaving soap. He isn’t growling or retreating, just staring. Whatever is going on inside his head, he’s plainly decided that I’m not a threat. He sniffs the air again and his muscles relax visibly. His entire demeanor is changing. I meet his gaze and the look in his eyes is almost welcoming. For a few seconds, I see a trace of humanity.
It all changes in an instant. Suddenly the hackles rise on his back and he launches himself at me again, snarling and growling fiercely. I scramble backward, even though I was never within his reach. Whatever it was that I saw in his eyes, there’s nothing now but raw, primal aggression.
“Remus, what’s wrong? Did I say something? Whatever it is, I’m sorry!”
But the wolf’s ferocious display continues. He’s once again straining against his magical bonds, digging that golden cuff deeper and deeper into an arm that must already be painfully bruised. His rear claws tear at the tattered remains of the old bed, and the mattress springs make horrible noises as they’re torqued and twisted beneath his paws. I can see blood where the broken metal ends are jabbing him, but still he continues to try to attack. It doesn’t make any sense for him to be hurting himself like this. Then in an instant, it does.
I stop backing up and take a couple of steps forward. The wolf seems surprised. He continues to snarl and posture, but the loudest parts of his behavior stop. I take advantage of the momentary quiet. “Stop it Remus. I know what you’re doing.”
The wolf launches into another furious display, throwing his body against the cuff and bounding off of the walls. I stand my ground and let him wear himself out. Soon, he’s crouched on the broken mattress once again, growling in his throat.
“Stop pushing me away, Remus. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Trying to scare me away so I can’t get close to you? I’m too poor. I’m too old. I’m too dangerous. What a load of crap. You wanna know what I think? I think you’re just a bloody coward. You’re hurting so badly that you’re terrified to let somebody get close to you again. Well you’re not the only one who’s hurting, Remus. I’m hurting, too. And your furry alter-ego here? I think he’s hurting. The difference between you and him was that he was almost brave enough to give me a chance. Are you?”
The wolf is panting softly now. His stubby, little tail is hanging low and the fight has gone out of his eyes. I take another step toward him and he growls at me, but it’s listless and his heart isn’t in it. “I’m going to come over there and heal those cuts on your feet, Remus. If you decide to bite me, well, that’s your choice.”
I take another step. He could totally disembowel me with his hind claws now. I lower my voice because somehow if I talk quietly, it feels like I’m talking to the wolf and Remus can’t hear. “Let me see your feet. I’ll help you.”
The wolf stares back. He looks unsure of how to respond. I take a slow breath and then take another step. I hold my empty left hand out, palm up, to show him that I’m not holding anything that can hurt him. Slowly, inch by inch, he comes closer. I can feel his searing breath on the palm of my hand as he sniffs at it. I hold perfectly still, letting him make his own decision.
Without ever taking his eyes off of me, he lowers himself onto his haunches and raises one of his hind legs. His fur is soaked with blood from a multitude of small puncture wounds and several deeper gashes. Gradually, without breaking eye contact, I lower myself to one knee and ease my wand hand forward. He initially starts at the sight of it, but I make soft shushing noises that seem to settle him. I cast the healing charm nonverbally, doing everything I can not to upset him. It takes three tries, but the wounds finally seal themselves.
The wolf takes his eyes off of me for long enough to inspect his newly healed paw. He presses it against the floor and seems satisfied with the results, then he offers me the other one. I can’t help myself. I reach out and gently touch his foot before I heal the wounds. His fur is softer than I expected, thick and warm. He trembles slightly at my touch, but he doesn’t pull away. It seems that we’ve come to an understanding of sorts.
I finish healing his wounds and rise to my feet. Truthfully, I’m loving everything about this. Here I am, inches away from one of the most dangerous creatures in the world. I’ve never felt so alive. Every nerve in my body is tingling. With great effort, I manage to slowly raise my empty palm toward him again. He sniffs it and this time he nuzzles against it. I slowly turn my hand so that I can stroke his furry muzzle. I feel his whiskers poking against the palm of my hand as my fingertips sink into the soft hair on his face. Remus’s moustache is probably scratchier. Part of me seriously wants to keep him as a pet.
Am I really going to go through with the rest of my brilliant plan? I guess so. It’s worked so far, ignoring a couple of little issues with Remus being a twat. I take a step back. The wolf looks kind of hurt, at least that’s how I interpret it. But I try to show him that I’m not leaving him. “I’m going to do something now. Please don’t panic. If this works, we can run together. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Is he happy? Eager? I’d like to think so, but there’s just no way to be sure. This is going to be weird as hell, but I’m in for a Sickle, in for a Galleon, I suppose. I start to strip off my clothes. The first time I let Charlie undress me on our third date didn’t feel anywhere near this strange. It’s a little like getting naked in front of your dog and a little like the way a take-away burger must feel when it’s being unwrapped. Soon enough, I’m completely starkers. I set my clothes on the invisible pile outside the door and turn around to face him.
“Get a good look, you fuzzy pervert...” You know, I almost think he looks a little bit embarrassed. Or maybe I’m just vastly overestimating my ability to read him. It doesn’t matter. This is completely exhilarating. There’s no other word for it. I’m actually doing this. It’s a bigger rush than riding a broom for the first time.
I study him. Really, really study the smallest details of his form. This is going to require more concentration than I’ve ever put into changing my appearance. I have to change everything about myself, right down to the bone. I honestly don’t even know whether I can. There’s no class at Hogwarts on how to be a metamorph. No books to read. The Ministry doesn’t send you a pamphlet or anything. Supposedly there are only a handful of us in all of Britain and we just have to figure things out as we go. Dammit. I’m not good at this sort of thing.
I guess the easiest place to start with with the muzzle. I’m good with noses. You can do this, Tonks. Just concentrate. The sensation of changing my face always feels like I’m scrunching up my nose. Don’t ask me why. Maybe the reason would be in that Ministry pamphlet somewhere if it existed. But I get that sensation along with a very itchy feeling and suddenly my nose and mouth are sticking out several inches from my face and covered with hair. I don’t like that shade. Too brown. Brown is boring. I mess with it a little and suddenly it’s an auburn sort of color. I feel a tiny bit guilty, but if Charlie doesn’t find out, it won’t hurt him.
Next stop is my ears. I close my eyes and imagine them higher up and longer, covered with that same short, reddish hair. I open my eyes and, well, shite. I guess it would have been a good idea to bring a mirror. I wonder whether one werewolf has ever attacked another because she had stupid-looking ears? No time to worry about it now. I stare at the rest of his head, getting a really good mental picture of the bone structure and the way his short fur lays. I shake my head and I can feel my hair getting shorter while downy fluff sprouts all over my face. This will really come in handy if I ever decide to leave the magical world behind and run off to join the circus.
From his vantage point in the corner, the wolf looks mesmerized. Mesmerized and confused. While I’m trying to figure out how to make my arms longer and change my fingers into claws, I start to wonder just how badly I’m messing with the poor guy’s head. Have you ever had that daydream where you start to wonder whether everyone around you is an actor and your whole life is the subject of some really bizarre movie or possibly some sort of muggle psychiatric experiment? Maybe he thinks that he’s the only real werewolf and all the others are just normal people who’ve transfigured themselves. OK, Tonks, that was really stupid. Plus your claws just turned hot pink. Concentrate, dammit!
Now we’re getting to the hard stuff. I concentrate on the way his spine curves, then I close my eyes and sort of throw my shoulders forward- Ouch! Fuck, that hurt! It takes me a few seconds to figure out my balance with my posture so screwed up, but the pain is taking its sweet time going away. Is this what it’s like for him when he transforms every month? Because my back seriously feels like somebody ripped my vertebrae apart and stuck them back together the wrong way. The pain is more bearable now, but I still have a lot of work to do. For the umpteenth time, I wonder whether I really want to go through with this.
Reshaping my legs to match his turns out to be even more excruciating. My first attempt at lengthening the bones of my feet feels like somebody is hanging me by my toes. I can’t believe how much it hurts and when I force my tear-filled eyes open, they’re only about half as long as they need to be. After I finally get them right, I force my hips to rotate forward and it feels like I just shattered the base of my spine. Even growing a tail hurt. That should be easy, right? Simple human transfiguration. We’ve all done it to somebody else as a joke. Well you know that feeling you get when you fall really hard on your tailbone? Imagine that, only the pressure is in the other direction and it hurts about ten times as bad.
When I’m finally done, I let out my own howl, but it comes out sort of like, Owwwwwwoooh. I look myself over, which is a lot easier because my neck seems to twist a lot farther now, and I have to say that it isn’t half bad. I bounce tentatively on my hind legs and I’m really surprised by the raw power in them. I could literally jump across the room in one leap. For somebody as clumsy as me, this might not be a good thing. I study my fur and fill in a couple of bare spots. There’s something so bizarre and unnatural about willing more hair to grow on your body. One of the great things about being a metamorph is that I never have to shave. If unwanted hair pops up somewhere on my body, I just make it disappear. So to say that this is counterintuitive is the understatement of the decade. I seriously just want to sit down on my haunches and scratch myself all over right now.
I did not just think that. Holy shite, this transformation is really getting inside my head. The next thing you know, I’m going to be crawling over there on all fours, sniffing his bum. Oh, crap. What if he really does sniff my bum? I have no idea how werewolves greet one another. Will he think I’m being rude if I don’t sniff his bum in return? I’m starting to freak out here. I really should have done more research. Alright, Tonks, calm down. You’re doing this for Remus. Don’t forget that this is all for Remus. Whatever he does, just play along. You can do this.
Now that I’m satisfied with my appearance, it’s time to face the next huge gut-check of the night. Because Remus can’t go anywhere if he’s bound to the wall. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve wondered whether I had the courage to keep pushing my luck. Come on, Tonks, be brave. Show him that you’re not scared. Show him that he’s not too dangerous for you.
I manage to sort of wedge my wand between the claws on two of my front toes. It feels really strange. Thankfully this is a really simple spell, because there’s no way I could do anything complicated right now. I take a couple of steps closer to make sure that I don’t miss and I aim at the golden cuff on his arm. Please, Remus, just stay still. Relashio.
The cuff falls away from his arm for for a moment the wolf doesn’t do anything. I’m really surprised. I thought he’d freak out or go tearing around the room or rip my throat out or something. Instead, he moves very slowly off of the mattress, staying along the far wall and keeping his distance. It takes me a moment to figure out why he’s being so tentative. I’m still holding my wand. Why is it that every point of no return is followed by another point of no return?
I back up slowly, feeling the claws on my hind legs scratch against the old wooden floor. Then I gently set my wand next to my clothes. Stepping away from my last chance to protect myself if this all goes horribly wrong, I try to think what I should do next. Sirius told me that Remus was always the dominant member of their pack, the alpha. How did Barkley used to act when Mum caught him digging through the rubbish bin? I lower my chin to the floor, letting my tail sag between my legs. I make what I hope sound like pathetic whimpering noises. My voice is the one thing I can’t change.
He approaches me warily. I’m sure he hasn’t figured out what to make of the situation. After a couple of tentative sniffs, he gets a little more bold. I guess I still smell like the person who healed the cuts on his feet. He’s getting more inquisitive, poking his nose into all sorts of places that make me want to giggle. I try to reciprocate just a bit, sniffing around his chest and the back of his neck while passing on the opportunity to explore his, er, more private areas. The wolf’s scent is stronger now that he’s closer and sweatier. He smells muskier than a dog, wilder and more primal. But there’s still just enough of Remus’s scent to get my heart beating a little faster. Did I just think that out loud?
The wolf seems to be satisfied that I’m safe enough to turn his back on, because he does exactly that. Staring at the full moon through the grimy window, he bays loudly, arching his back and raising his nose toward the ceiling. With a single kick of his powerful hind legs, he launches his body at the window. It shatters into a thousand sparkling pieces as he disappears into the night. Oh, shite. This was not what I expected to happen. I hurry over and look down, but there’s no sign of him. He’s already disappeared into the fringe of the forest. I try to gauge how far up I am, which is mostly a waste of time. It’s too damn high, that’s all that matters. But he made it somehow, so I take half a step back and follow suit. This night is going to be the death of me.
I’m pleased to discover that my legs are strong enough to absorb most of the impact when I land. That means my chin barely suffers a scratch when I tumble and fall on my face. I lift myself up onto all fours and hear a muffled snort coming from the underbrush lining the edge of the Dark Forest. It’s him. I can see the yellow reflection of the moonlight in his eyes. He was waiting for me! My heart seriously just skipped a beat. He was actually waiting for me! He likes me! He snorts again, only this time the impatience is unmistakable. Alright, alright, I’m coming.
I decide to push it a bit and find out what my limbs are really capable of. I sort of launch myself into the forest, covering close to ten feet in a single leap. He’s crouching in the darkness, next to the spot where I land, so I jump into the air again, pawing playfully at his back as I fly over the top of him. Whee! This is fun. He seems to think so as well. He leaps at me and I manage to roll out of the way just in time to elude him. He tries again and I jump away, staying just out of his reach. He rares forward on his front paws, pressing his hind legs against the base of a tree and launching himself at me. I throw myself to the side at the last instant, evading his outstretched paws... and flying headfirst into a tree. Smooth, Tonks, very smooth.
He’s on top of me in a second, but he’s not trying to wrestle or rough-house. He carefully sniffs the top of my head, then nuzzles it softly and licks it with his tongue. I really appreciate it, not least because it lets me make sure that my skull isn’t fractured without accidentally slicing my scalp open with these stupid claws. As I climb uneasily onto my feet, he’s right there beside me, snorting softly and nuzzling my back and shoulders. I really wish my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher -- pick any one of the seven -- could see this. This creature isn’t savage and bloodthirsty. He isn’t a mindless killer. He’s worried about an injured member of his pack, gently making sure that I’m alright.
I shake off the cobwebs and kind of grunt at him. I hope he takes this as my confirmation that I’m alright. He stares at me for a second longer, then starts to move away. I sort of watch him for a second, then he turns and looks at me. It seems pretty obvious that he wants me to follow, so I do. He’s covering a lot of ground, but I don’t really have any problem keeping up. Something about being lower to the ground makes my clumsiness a little easier to manage somehow. I’m marveling at my newfound coordination just as I get my hind paw caught on a tree root and end up flat on my face with a big mouthful of dry leaves and pine cones.
The wolf stops and turns to look at me. I know he only has two or three facial expressions, but I swear I can see laughter in his eyes. Dick. I pick myself up off of the ground and spit out a disgusting mass of dirt and decaying plant matter. He’s still staring at me, trembling slightly. Let’s see how funny you think this is, Remus. I launch myself at him, and I think it really catches him off guard. We tumble over one another a few times, both of us slapping at one another with our paws and struggling to find our footing on the loose debris. I can smell his hot breath mixing with the scents of the cool forest night. Something about this form is really making my sense of smell better. Either that or I’m sobering up.
As luck would have it, I end up on top of him when we finally come to rest. He snarls playfully at me. I snarl back. Wow, that actually sounded halfway convincing! I love the acoustics of this nose. I’ll have to remember it the next time I want to scare the pants off of Fred and George in the basement of Grimmauld Place. The wolf manages to get one of his hind legs into my midsection and he flips me off of him. I land on my back, but I still manage to roll out of the way before he’s able to pounce. This is where my Auror training comes in handy. As soon as I get my paws under me, I leap back into the air. Before he knows what’s happening, I’m on his back with all four of my limbs wrapped around his torso. This should be fun. Can’t be any harder than staying on a broom, right?
He lets out a yowl as he launches both of us into the air. Alright, maybe this is a harder than a broom. When he lands, my chest slams into his thickly muscled back and it knocks the wind out of me. Before I can even think about letting go, he leaps forward. We fly through the air and I’m more wrapped around his waist than his body. But he’s obviously not done having fun with this, because he leans forward as he lands and I slide back up his torso. I want off this ride! Mummy!
I desperately tighten my grip on his body as he begins to charge forward. We tear through the underbrush of the Dark Forest at breakneck speed. Everything around me is a blur. Seriously, Remus, you can let me off any time now. Bushes and low-hanging tree branches keep hitting me in the face. I’m pretty sure the arsehole is doing it on purpose, too. I’m running out of options, so I dig my claws into his ribs. He lets out this crazed sort of yowl and starts to run even faster. Wouldn’t you know it, I have to pick the one werewolf in Britain who’s into masochism. Actually, thinking about Remus, that isn’t much of a surprise.
Suddenly we burst through a thicket and into a clearing. I open my eyes and realize that we’re running out of ground. Literally, twenty feet in front of us, the ground ceases to exist. He’s barreling headlong toward a cliff. I can sort of make out this ledge on the other side of the chasm, but the gap has to be at least fifteen feet. He’s kidding, right? He’s going to skid to a halt and probably change back to his human form and have a good laugh about this, isn’t he? Wait, he’s not slowing down. Slow down! STOP! Remus John Lupin, you crazy son of a bitch, I’m going to kill you, I swear it!
Fuuuuucccccckkkkkk!!!!!
When I open my eyes, we’re both standing on a rocky ledge on the far side of a chasm that must go down at least two hundred feet. Well, he’s standing. I’m still clinging to his back like my life depends on it. Which it did, quite literally. I gradually let myself down. My limbs are so sore from the death grip I’ve had on his torso that I can hardly walk, but the feeling of terra firma under my paws is probably the most amazing sensation I’ve ever had with my clothes on. Well, technically I have no clothes on, but I’m gonna say that fur counts.
I want to slug him. I really do. But the view up here is amazing. The ledge looks out over the Dark Forest as it stretches down to the shores of the Black Lake. The treetops seem to ripple and shimmer under the light of the full moon and the stars reflect off of the water like a second sky. It’s breathtaking. I look over at the wolf and he’s staring at it, too. Or perhaps it’s Remus. Maybe both. I don’t think it matters to me. I press my body against him and slide my muzzle under his chin. I’m surprised when he lifts one of his front legs and sort of pulls me toward him. It isn’t really a canine gesture, but there’s so much complicated shite going on here that I’ve really lost track of where the man ends and the wolf begins. All I know is that I’m staring at an unimaginably beautiful night, cuddling with the most amazing creature I’ve ever met, regardless of what species he happens to be at the moment. I don’t ever want it to end.
I wake up as the first light of morning begins to stream through the shattered window of the Shrieking Shack. It’s absolutely freezing in here, but there’s a blanket covering me and something very warm is pressed against my back. I go through the previous day’s events in my mind, putting it all together. I left work. I went to the Three Broomsticks. I got drunk. I ran through the Dark Forest at night with a werewolf. Yep, there’s the explanation. Which means that the warm body pressed against my bare backside would be Remus. Yikes. This is going to be awkward.
I slide my free hand experimentally up the front of my body. Naked as a jaybird, but there’s no more fur. I must have changed back to my normal self while I was sleeping, because Remus was still transformed when we got back here and curled up under the blanket. You know what’s funnier than a werewolf with long, sharp claws trying to spread a blanket out on the floor? Two werewolves trying to spread a blanket out on the floor. It’s a miracle neither one of us lost an eye. I feel relieved, though. I was guessing that changing back was going to be the same kind of painful ordeal.
I hear Remus snort a little and he snuggles closer to me. I’d really love to let him sleep a while longer. God knows I could use the rest, myself. But we’re lying on a blanket on a bare wooden floor with no pillows and I think I’m getting frostbite on my face. I roll onto my back so that I can turn my head and see him. Remus looks none the worse for wear, at least not his face. I purse my lips and gently blow air across his moustache. The peaceful look on his face gradually changes to annoyance and then confusion. He opens a single eye and stares at me.
“Good morning, Remus. Sleep well?”
He closes his eye, then opens both of them. Yep, I’m still here. It’s me, Tonks, not the warm blanket fairy. He closes his eyes again and screws up his face in concentration.
“So it wasn’t just a dream. You really were here last night and you really did take him out for an adventure in the forest?”
So he does remember. I subconsciously pull the blanket a little tighter around my chest. Like it matters now. I can’t help but giggle a little. “What do you mean, ‘him’? You were obviously there, too.”
He lets out a long, slow breath. “It’s complicated. We share the same body, but his thoughts are distinct from my own. We don’t often agree.” He pauses for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “How did you know?”
“Sirius told me how the four of you used to run together during the full moon.”
Remus doesn’t look pleased. “I might have known that he was responsible for this.”
There he goes again. Merlin, he brasses me off. “What do you mean, responsible? I’m a grown woman, Remus. I make my own decisions. And last night I decided that we’ve both suffered alone for long enough.”
He just stares at me for a moment. I can’t decide whether he’s taking me seriously or not. He’s probably thinking that he can change the subject somehow. He has no idea. I am just getting started. Rawr!
“Dora... Did we... you know, last night?”
“No. We were both exhausted by the time we made it back here. And where, exactly, did you get the idea that you’re allowed to call me Dora? Who are you, my dad?”
“I’m old enough to be.”
Oh, no you don’t, Remus Lupin. Not today. “My dad’s a gentleman. He would never wake up next to a girl he doesn’t care about.”
Alright, I admit it, that was hitting below the belt. I feel a little bad about it, but when he tries to roll over and look away, I get mad all over again. I am so far from finished. “I meant what I said last night, Remus. Every word of it. Since you seem to remember everything else, I’ll assume you remember that, as well.”
He sighs loudly before rolling back over to face me. “It’s not a load of crap, Dora. I am too old for you, and too poor and far too dangerous. Last night was...” He looks wistful and his voice loses that Hogwarts professor tone. “Last night was incredible. He was truly happy. And when’s he’s happy, I’m happy, not least of all because he doesn’t spend all night chewing on my arms and legs.” As if to demonstrate, he pulls his arm out from under the blanket. It’s free of the fresh, horrible-looking scars that he always seems to be hiding for a week after every full moon. “But can you truly say that you’d want to do that every month? I remember the tears in your eyes and the way you were gritting your teeth in pain during the transformation. I couldn’t ask you to put yourself through that, even if I knew I could keep you completely safe.”
He reaches out and touches my cheek. I nuzzle against his fingers, and it isn’t just because they feel warm on my poor, frozen face. What the hell is the matter with him, anyway? This is not the right way to convince me that I don’t want to be with you. “You deserve so much better than me. You’re so young and so lovely. You deserve a husband who has as many good years in front of him as you do. Somebody you can have children with.”
“This isn’t about what I deserve, Remus. It’s about what I want. And what I want is to make you happy. Because you make me happy, at least when you’re not being a prat. That’s what we both deserve, to be happy.”
He stares at me for a while. I can see the turmoil in his eyes. I know how much he wants this, but he can’t convince himself to just let it happen. Maybe we’ve made enough progress for one day. There’s always tomorrow.
I rip the blanket off of him and wrap it around myself, causing him to yelp from embarrassment and the cold. “So where did you hide your clothes?”
He tries to cover up, but not before I catch a glimpse. I think he’s got Charlie beat in more than just age and height. I wish I could keep the devilish little grin off of my face. No I don’t.
“Hole in the wall near the ceiling at the top of the stairs. You?”
“Disillusionment charm outside the door.”
I take my time walking out of the room, which is funny because he’s sort of hopping in place behind me, trying to keep himself covered and stay warm at the same time. I remove the charm that hides my stuff and pull my knickers on underneath the blanket. Remus is reaching up to retrieve his clothes and I can’t help but admire his bum as he stands on his toes. He may be a little banged up for his age, but he’s got it where it counts.
I’m mostly done getting dressed when he clears his throat behind me. I finish pulling the jumper down over my undershirt and turn to find a slightly worried look on his face.
“You’re certain that nothing happened last night, right? I mean, the difficulties if you wound up getting, you know...”
I can’t help but laugh. What kind of amateur does he think he’s dealing with here? OK, truthfully I hope he thinks I’m more of an amateur than I really am. “Relax, Remus. Nothing happened, not that I would have objected too much once we both changed back. And I take, you know, precautions. I mean, you’re a werewolf and I’m me. Can you imagine? They’d put the kid in detention the minute he stepped off the Hogwarts Express.”
He grins. I giggle. He chuckles. I snort. He laughs. Honest to goodness laughs. The sound is music to my ears. In that one moment, all my doubts are erased. Everything was worth it. This is what I want. It’s what I deserve.
Now I just have to convince him of that and we’re golden.
Alright, I suppose I should say this right up front. There is nothing in canon that says that a metamorph can change into an animal. There's nothing in canon that says they can't. The majority opinion in "fanon" seems to be that they can't, but until JKR clarifies it one way or the other, I'll choose to believe it's possible.
Thank you to my beta reader sophie_hatter for once again saving me from a potentially tragic plot decision and thanks to Rosie for letting me be part of the awesome story that inspired this one. If you haven't read His Pack of Four, it's well worth your time.
All comments welcome! You know where.
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