OF WOLF AND MAN (NC-17) BY IAMSHADOW - Chapter Five: Metamorphosis
Title: Of Wolf and Man - Chapter Five: Metamorphosis
Chapter: 5/?
Author: iamshadow
Ship: Remus/Sirius
Word Count This Chapter: 3,037 + drawing in watercolour pastels by kath_ballantyne
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst. Boysex. WIP.
Summary: The first Moon of the school year waxes Full.
A/N: This has to be one of my favourite chapters I've written so far, if not THE favourite. And the fact that it has porn actually has nothing to do with it, seriously. I really hope you like it too.
This is a Work in Progress. Please don't let the fact that it's incomplete put you off.
Chapter List HERE
Severus placed a large goblet of thick, opaque blown glass on the desk in front of me. It was so dark green as to almost be black, and its contents were smoking. The potion had to be prepared and stored in either ceramic or glass cauldrons and jars, because it corroded metal. It certainly smelled as if it could. It had a sharp, chemical odour, overlaid with something reminiscent of burnt feathers.
I drew the glass close, twiddling the stem between my fingers, my heart pounding. I had read all about the Wolfsbane Potion, of course. When the invention was publicised, I had bought every journal and periodical that so much as mentioned it in passing. But it was extremely complex; well beyond my mediocre talents as a potioneer, and at least one of the ingredients had a price tag equal to several months’ worth of my living expenses.
As a result, I had never actually taken it. Until now.
I knew the theory of what it would do inside out. I would still Change - no potion or charm in existence could prevent that - but the violent madness would be soothed. If I took this potion, I would remain sane. A beast with the clear thinking of a man; like some kind of involuntary Animagus. Somehow that was more frightening than my regular transformation ever had been.
I realised I had been dithering for the best part of a minute when I heard a derisive little laugh. Severus was watching my internal conflict with great amusement. The knowing look in his eyes said the word he didn’t need to speak. Coward.
Raising the vessel to my lips, I took a tentative sip. If I had intended this to be a parry to Severus’s thrust, I spoiled it miserably by gagging. The potion tasted worse than it smelled, which I had hoped wasn’t possible.
Severus raised a brow. “Sugar?” he drawled, laconically, as if this was some bizarre, macabre tea party he was playing host to. I ignored him.
The story of Neville’s Boggart had become legendary almost instantly, spreading from student to student like some incredibly contagious disease. By breakfast on Friday morning, I was being asked covertly about it by other staff members, who were struggling - and often failing - to contain expressions of glee.
Severus had spent the last three weeks up until today pretending I didn’t exist. Seeing me wrong-footed though; that was worth dropping the act for. He was back to his usual, sarcastic self, and incredibly smug with it. I decided to stop torturing myself; it was giving him far too much satisfaction.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I suddenly downed the contents of the cup in several ragged gulps. It burned the length of my oesophagus, settling in my belly to simmer unpleasantly. I met Severus’s eyes again, challengingly. He looked almost disappointed that I hadn’t spat his potion the length of my desk.
“Tomorrow evening, then,” he said at last, with some distaste.
“Indeed,” I agreed. “Thank you, Severus.”
He greeted my politeness with his customary sneer, before turning swiftly and gliding out the door.
This week, and the pre-Moon weeks to follow over the coming months, were certainly going to be interesting.
********************************************
I didn’t notice any real effect from taking the potion for at least three days. My senses sharpened gradually as they always did; colours becoming more vivid, sound more penetrating. Drinking a perfectly prepared cup of tea became an almost orgasmic experience, and anything heavily sugared became too painfully sweet to consume.
One side effect I had noticed almost immediately was a sudden spate of very vivid, highly sensory dreams. My recall of them was almost perfect on waking, something unusual for me. Most of my usual dreams were nonsense, or vanished from my mind seconds after I opened my eyes, only leaving behind traces of emotion no longer connected to anything. I scribbled down these nocturnal visions idly, more for my own curiosity about the experience than any real drive to document every twinge or quirk the potion elicited. I would have plenty of time for that over the months ahead.
On the fourth day, it finally clicked that something was different. Though my senses were heightened, the associated irritation was less than usual. I could sit in the Great Hall with hundreds of chattering students, or listen to the scritching of two dozen quills on parchment in class, without wanting to get up and leave.
By the fifth day, when I would usually start pacing, I was still able to sit and teach, satisfying my wanderlust with a brisk walk around the grounds before dinner. And at my usual bedtime, I actually felt ready for sleep.
****************************************
I could feel him watching me across the classroom, his eyes scorching me with their heat. It was highly distracting. I was supposed to be talking about Kappas, but I kept wandering off topic.
A large wardrobe stood in the middle of the room, amongst the desks, but I knew I couldn’t open it because Lily and James were hiding in there, waiting to jump out and surprise Harry for his birthday. “We missed it again, you see,” James had explained, before shutting the door.
Harry was playing a very loud game of Exploding Snap with Ron Weasley and ignoring everything I was trying to teach them.
Hermione Granger kept interrupting to correct me. I couldn’t really blame her. After all, my treacherous mouth had just insisted that Kappas were found almost exclusively in the Sahara Desert. Eventually Hermione got fed up with this.
“Honestly! You’re hopeless! Even Professor Lockhart was better than you!” she remarked in disgust, before standing up and beginning to teach the class herself, which instantly became attentive.
At a bit of a loose end, I wandered through the classroom and out the door, straight into the Gryffindor dormitory. I could sense him behind me, and turned.
He was in his Quidditch kit, obviously having just finished a practice. His hair was ruffled from the wind, and there were sweat marks on the cloth where it touched him. He wound his arms around me tightly, and then his tongue was in my mouth and I was melting.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I panted when I pulled back to catch my breath. “The Dementors…”
He snorted. “Perfect Prefect Moony,” he teased, tweaking the badge on my robes with a finger. “Heaven forbid you should ever do something that involves breaking the rules.”
“Hey!” I cried indignantly. “Who was it who thought up the Marauder’s Map in the first place and found the spells to make it? You wouldn’t have got up to half the stuff you did if it wasn’t for me.”
“Ah, but lawlessness by association does not a true Marauder make,” he intoned seriously, with a bright sparkle in his eye. “You have to be a bad boy of your own account. You have to misbehave.” His lips quirked at that, and my heart pounded as if trying to escape my chest. I was suddenly very, very hard.
“So,” he purred, loosening my school tie and sliding it from my collar, “have you been naughty, Moony?”
The breath caught in my throat as his hand trailed down my chest and delicately stroked the bulge in my pants with only the very tips of his fingers. I bit my lip to stifle a cry as my cock twitched in response. It had been so long since I had felt that touch, and it was almost over right then.
“Well?” he drawled again, and the beautiful hand stopped and withdrew a little. My traitorous body leaned forward against his, seeking it. My eyes begged. At that moment I would do anything, say anything. “Yes,” I breathed. “I have been a very bad boy.”
He eyed me sceptically. “I don’t believe you,” he concluded. “Remus Lupin break a rule? You always have a spare quill on you, wherever you go. Even your receiving blankets were tweed. I think I shall have to see some proof of said depravity before I will consent to continue any further.”
“Proof?”
“Yes, proof,” he smirked.
I grabbed him firmly and he trembled, letting out a deep, satisfying groan. “Proof like that?” He nodded hesitantly, his eyes glassy and not quite focussed. “Yes, I’m pretty sure I remember something against groping in the dormitory. There was a list of rules in the prefect’s handbook,” I mused, my thumb idly stroking the head of his cock through his trousers. I could already feel a drop of moisture soaking the cloth.
“… not enough…” he gasped. “…Teacher’s Pet…Perfect Prefect…”
I pushed him back until he hit the door, then I was on my knees in front of him, slowly taking his cock into my mouth. He inhaled sharply, his hands gripping my hair. I pulled back, just as slowly. “Do good boys do that?” I murmured, my lips brushing the tip as I spoke. He shook his head frantically, and mumbled something indecipherable.
I swallowed him up again, sucking hard, revelling in his involuntary thrusts, his sounds of ecstasy, his hands holding me in place so hard it almost hurt. It didn’t take long. He was as eager as I was, and when he did come, it was with a protracted scream that surely the whole tower heard. That didn’t worry me, for some reason. I was on my feet again, kissing him with renewed vigour, as he pushed me back onto a nearby bed, fumbling with my clothes.
He was mumbling obscenities between frenetic, probing kisses. Finally naked skin brushed naked skin, and I whimpered. I pushed against him, only able to articulate, “…please…” Good boy that I was, I always seemed to ask politely, even in the throes of passion. This small word seemed to drive him into a frenzy. He was lying on top of me, his leg pushed between mine, his hand closing around me. After that, it was just a blur of nearly unbearable sensation. My hips were bucking of their own accord. I could feel Sirius, hard again, rubbing himself desperately against me. The incandescent white heat was building…
I awoke suddenly, in my bed, in my chambers at Hogwarts. My erection was huge, painful and straining, and I was well and truly alone. I brought myself to a blinding orgasm with no effort, sobbing helplessly through the afterglow until I fell back asleep.
***********************************************
The next day, I was filled with hyperactive energy, though not at my usual manic, fevered level. I dealt with this twitchiness by taking my classes outdoors for the afternoon, under the excuse of enjoying the last of the sunshine before autumn closed in with a vengeance. The children seemed to enjoy the change of pace, and their laughter and good spirits combined with the weather helped to chase away the shadows left from the night before. It was always best to not go into the Change with lingering negative feelings or worries. Though it was unavoidable at times, those Changes always seemed to be the worst.
I avoided dinner in the Great Hall, knowing that the night before the Change even the potion would not make the riot of light, smell and sound bearable. I had arranged at the very start of term for my dinner to be sent up directly to my chambers for the nights before, on and after the full moon. My only visitor that evening was Severus.
He showed more interest in me than he had on previous days, examining my eyes and inside my mouth, and taking my pulse. It was quite a surreal experience, even if I did know that it was merely scientific curiosity about his potion’s effects rather than actual concern. Once he seemed satisfied, he straightened up.
“I shall bring up the final dose at five o’clock tomorrow,” he intoned. “When I do, I would suggest that you lock the door behind me and try to rest. Though I have no doubt that you will ignore whatever sensible advice I give and do whatever you please.”
I bit back an angry retort. Resting was the last thing that was possible this close to the Change. It fact, it was probably only the tempering effect of the Wolfsbane that allowed me to resist attacking him. Instead, I turned my eyes on him quite fiercely. I was gratified to see him take a tiny step back. I knew the wolf was quite close to the surface now, and evidently he could see it. Good.
“Thank you,” I said, though my words lacked their usual mildness, and came out through gritted teeth. Severus left with a quickened step and without his usual sneer. I felt a fierce kind of satisfaction.
When Severus brought me my potion the next night, only hours before the full moon, he said nothing to me at all. I was already pacing, itchy at my confinement. When he entered, my wand was out and at his throat in an instant, and it took a couple of seconds before I knew him and lowered it, returning to my pacing with a snarl. This was not a good time for an old enemy to be standing in my presence, and he was aware of it. There had been a glimmer in his eyes of something like fear when I had been staring at him, unrecognising, the tip of my wand pressing in where his pulse jumped. For a few seconds, he smelled like Prey.
He held out the goblet and I took it when I passed him in my perambulations, swallowing it in a deep, sickening draught. I paused, long enough to hand the cup back. “Thank you,” I ground out, though words were difficult to wrangle when I could feel the moon’s magnetic pull so strongly and everything was pain. He didn’t speak, but he inclined his head ever so slightly in response, before sweeping out in a flourish of black fabric.
I sealed the door behind him with a Locking Charm and Muffliato. The last was as much a necessity as the first. The Wolfsbane didn’t dull the pain of the Change, after all. In a few short hours, I was screaming as my body twisted and writhed in its grip, then I lay, panting on the floor until the agony lessened to a dull, throbbing ache.
I was Wolf. I knew I was Remus, but more importantly, I was Wolf. Climbing to my feet, I shook out my thick coat from my nose to the tufted tip of my bushy tail. I could see in colour, but more important than that were the smells, which described my surroundings in layers and depths mere sight could never capture.
The rolls of parchment on my desk were covered in traces of the scents of the children who had written them. I jumped up to rest my front feet against the edge of the desk and sniffed deeply. Hermione’s scent was on at least three scrolls; her own, but also Harry’s and Ron’s. My teeth bared in a wolfish grin at that. I could smell the chocolate hidden in my desk drawer, the mud on my boots nearby and, near the door, something chemical which I assumed had been walked in on Severus’s shoes from the Potions Labs in the dungeons.
I did a full circuit of the room, taking my time, exploring every crevice and object with my excellent nose. Coming to a sudden halt in front of the window, I caught sight of the moon, reflecting her glory across the surface of the lake as she peered over the surrounding hills. I howled a serenade with a savage joy, singing a song of hatred and adoration to my mistress.
When she had risen high and grown smaller as she reached her zenith, I crooned my last note and trotted to the hearthrug. There, I stretched out like a lion, basking in the glow, and dozing.
**********************************************
The next morning, I climbed into bed with an effort, only bothering to unlock the door because I knew how foolish it would be to leave myself locked in while sleeping off the effects of the Change and a potion I had never before tried. I didn’t wake until that evening, and when I did it was to the sight of Professor Dumbledore and Severus standing over me.
“I’m sorry to wake you, Remus,” Dumbledore began, “but we needed to know if you will have recovered sufficiently by tomorrow morning to teach. If not, Severus will substitute, and you can return to teaching on Tuesday.”
I stretched tentatively, wincing as joints popped and cracked with the strain. “Yes,” I whispered hoarsely. “I just need to sleep, that’s all.”
Dumbledore smiled apologetically. “Severus must make some observations of your vital signs as well, I believe, in case he needs to make any adjustments when he produces the next batch of Wolfsbane.”
I sighed, but nodded. With an effort, assisted by Dumbledore, I dragged my reluctant body into a sitting position. I didn’t get up any further. Not only was I too weak, but I was naked beneath the blanket. Clothes had seemed unimportant at dawn, when the bed was so conveniently nearby.
Severus poked and prodded me for some time, before clucking in a fair but unintentional imitation of Madame Pomfrey. “You need to eat,” he admonished. He summoned the tray that had obviously appeared not long beforehand on my desk, and sat it down on my lap.
“You’re not going to try to feed me now, are you?” I asked Severus in a feeble attempt at a joke that came out sounding tetchy. “I may be exhausted, but I could still break your arm with one hand right now, and I will do it if you come anywhere near me with a spoonful of chicken soup.”
Dumbledore chuckled, and Severus looked murderous, but his lips twitched slightly spasmodically as though suppressing a smile. “Hardly,” he said, drier than dust.
Dumbledore patted the blankets over my knee kindly, before standing up to leave, Severus trailing in his wake like a second shadow.
<- 4. The Clothes Maketh The Man )O( 6. A Bone of Contention ->
Chapter: 5/?
Author: iamshadow
Ship: Remus/Sirius
Word Count This Chapter: 3,037 + drawing in watercolour pastels by kath_ballantyne
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst. Boysex. WIP.
Summary: The first Moon of the school year waxes Full.
A/N: This has to be one of my favourite chapters I've written so far, if not THE favourite. And the fact that it has porn actually has nothing to do with it, seriously. I really hope you like it too.
This is a Work in Progress. Please don't let the fact that it's incomplete put you off.
Chapter List HERE
Severus placed a large goblet of thick, opaque blown glass on the desk in front of me. It was so dark green as to almost be black, and its contents were smoking. The potion had to be prepared and stored in either ceramic or glass cauldrons and jars, because it corroded metal. It certainly smelled as if it could. It had a sharp, chemical odour, overlaid with something reminiscent of burnt feathers.
I drew the glass close, twiddling the stem between my fingers, my heart pounding. I had read all about the Wolfsbane Potion, of course. When the invention was publicised, I had bought every journal and periodical that so much as mentioned it in passing. But it was extremely complex; well beyond my mediocre talents as a potioneer, and at least one of the ingredients had a price tag equal to several months’ worth of my living expenses.
As a result, I had never actually taken it. Until now.
I knew the theory of what it would do inside out. I would still Change - no potion or charm in existence could prevent that - but the violent madness would be soothed. If I took this potion, I would remain sane. A beast with the clear thinking of a man; like some kind of involuntary Animagus. Somehow that was more frightening than my regular transformation ever had been.
I realised I had been dithering for the best part of a minute when I heard a derisive little laugh. Severus was watching my internal conflict with great amusement. The knowing look in his eyes said the word he didn’t need to speak. Coward.
Raising the vessel to my lips, I took a tentative sip. If I had intended this to be a parry to Severus’s thrust, I spoiled it miserably by gagging. The potion tasted worse than it smelled, which I had hoped wasn’t possible.
Severus raised a brow. “Sugar?” he drawled, laconically, as if this was some bizarre, macabre tea party he was playing host to. I ignored him.
The story of Neville’s Boggart had become legendary almost instantly, spreading from student to student like some incredibly contagious disease. By breakfast on Friday morning, I was being asked covertly about it by other staff members, who were struggling - and often failing - to contain expressions of glee.
Severus had spent the last three weeks up until today pretending I didn’t exist. Seeing me wrong-footed though; that was worth dropping the act for. He was back to his usual, sarcastic self, and incredibly smug with it. I decided to stop torturing myself; it was giving him far too much satisfaction.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I suddenly downed the contents of the cup in several ragged gulps. It burned the length of my oesophagus, settling in my belly to simmer unpleasantly. I met Severus’s eyes again, challengingly. He looked almost disappointed that I hadn’t spat his potion the length of my desk.
“Tomorrow evening, then,” he said at last, with some distaste.
“Indeed,” I agreed. “Thank you, Severus.”
He greeted my politeness with his customary sneer, before turning swiftly and gliding out the door.
This week, and the pre-Moon weeks to follow over the coming months, were certainly going to be interesting.
********************************************
I didn’t notice any real effect from taking the potion for at least three days. My senses sharpened gradually as they always did; colours becoming more vivid, sound more penetrating. Drinking a perfectly prepared cup of tea became an almost orgasmic experience, and anything heavily sugared became too painfully sweet to consume.
One side effect I had noticed almost immediately was a sudden spate of very vivid, highly sensory dreams. My recall of them was almost perfect on waking, something unusual for me. Most of my usual dreams were nonsense, or vanished from my mind seconds after I opened my eyes, only leaving behind traces of emotion no longer connected to anything. I scribbled down these nocturnal visions idly, more for my own curiosity about the experience than any real drive to document every twinge or quirk the potion elicited. I would have plenty of time for that over the months ahead.
On the fourth day, it finally clicked that something was different. Though my senses were heightened, the associated irritation was less than usual. I could sit in the Great Hall with hundreds of chattering students, or listen to the scritching of two dozen quills on parchment in class, without wanting to get up and leave.
By the fifth day, when I would usually start pacing, I was still able to sit and teach, satisfying my wanderlust with a brisk walk around the grounds before dinner. And at my usual bedtime, I actually felt ready for sleep.
****************************************
I could feel him watching me across the classroom, his eyes scorching me with their heat. It was highly distracting. I was supposed to be talking about Kappas, but I kept wandering off topic.
A large wardrobe stood in the middle of the room, amongst the desks, but I knew I couldn’t open it because Lily and James were hiding in there, waiting to jump out and surprise Harry for his birthday. “We missed it again, you see,” James had explained, before shutting the door.
Harry was playing a very loud game of Exploding Snap with Ron Weasley and ignoring everything I was trying to teach them.
Hermione Granger kept interrupting to correct me. I couldn’t really blame her. After all, my treacherous mouth had just insisted that Kappas were found almost exclusively in the Sahara Desert. Eventually Hermione got fed up with this.
“Honestly! You’re hopeless! Even Professor Lockhart was better than you!” she remarked in disgust, before standing up and beginning to teach the class herself, which instantly became attentive.
At a bit of a loose end, I wandered through the classroom and out the door, straight into the Gryffindor dormitory. I could sense him behind me, and turned.
He was in his Quidditch kit, obviously having just finished a practice. His hair was ruffled from the wind, and there were sweat marks on the cloth where it touched him. He wound his arms around me tightly, and then his tongue was in my mouth and I was melting.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I panted when I pulled back to catch my breath. “The Dementors…”
He snorted. “Perfect Prefect Moony,” he teased, tweaking the badge on my robes with a finger. “Heaven forbid you should ever do something that involves breaking the rules.”
“Hey!” I cried indignantly. “Who was it who thought up the Marauder’s Map in the first place and found the spells to make it? You wouldn’t have got up to half the stuff you did if it wasn’t for me.”
“Ah, but lawlessness by association does not a true Marauder make,” he intoned seriously, with a bright sparkle in his eye. “You have to be a bad boy of your own account. You have to misbehave.” His lips quirked at that, and my heart pounded as if trying to escape my chest. I was suddenly very, very hard.
“So,” he purred, loosening my school tie and sliding it from my collar, “have you been naughty, Moony?”
The breath caught in my throat as his hand trailed down my chest and delicately stroked the bulge in my pants with only the very tips of his fingers. I bit my lip to stifle a cry as my cock twitched in response. It had been so long since I had felt that touch, and it was almost over right then.
“Well?” he drawled again, and the beautiful hand stopped and withdrew a little. My traitorous body leaned forward against his, seeking it. My eyes begged. At that moment I would do anything, say anything. “Yes,” I breathed. “I have been a very bad boy.”
He eyed me sceptically. “I don’t believe you,” he concluded. “Remus Lupin break a rule? You always have a spare quill on you, wherever you go. Even your receiving blankets were tweed. I think I shall have to see some proof of said depravity before I will consent to continue any further.”
“Proof?”
“Yes, proof,” he smirked.
I grabbed him firmly and he trembled, letting out a deep, satisfying groan. “Proof like that?” He nodded hesitantly, his eyes glassy and not quite focussed. “Yes, I’m pretty sure I remember something against groping in the dormitory. There was a list of rules in the prefect’s handbook,” I mused, my thumb idly stroking the head of his cock through his trousers. I could already feel a drop of moisture soaking the cloth.
“… not enough…” he gasped. “…Teacher’s Pet…Perfect Prefect…”
I pushed him back until he hit the door, then I was on my knees in front of him, slowly taking his cock into my mouth. He inhaled sharply, his hands gripping my hair. I pulled back, just as slowly. “Do good boys do that?” I murmured, my lips brushing the tip as I spoke. He shook his head frantically, and mumbled something indecipherable.
I swallowed him up again, sucking hard, revelling in his involuntary thrusts, his sounds of ecstasy, his hands holding me in place so hard it almost hurt. It didn’t take long. He was as eager as I was, and when he did come, it was with a protracted scream that surely the whole tower heard. That didn’t worry me, for some reason. I was on my feet again, kissing him with renewed vigour, as he pushed me back onto a nearby bed, fumbling with my clothes.
He was mumbling obscenities between frenetic, probing kisses. Finally naked skin brushed naked skin, and I whimpered. I pushed against him, only able to articulate, “…please…” Good boy that I was, I always seemed to ask politely, even in the throes of passion. This small word seemed to drive him into a frenzy. He was lying on top of me, his leg pushed between mine, his hand closing around me. After that, it was just a blur of nearly unbearable sensation. My hips were bucking of their own accord. I could feel Sirius, hard again, rubbing himself desperately against me. The incandescent white heat was building…
I awoke suddenly, in my bed, in my chambers at Hogwarts. My erection was huge, painful and straining, and I was well and truly alone. I brought myself to a blinding orgasm with no effort, sobbing helplessly through the afterglow until I fell back asleep.
***********************************************
The next day, I was filled with hyperactive energy, though not at my usual manic, fevered level. I dealt with this twitchiness by taking my classes outdoors for the afternoon, under the excuse of enjoying the last of the sunshine before autumn closed in with a vengeance. The children seemed to enjoy the change of pace, and their laughter and good spirits combined with the weather helped to chase away the shadows left from the night before. It was always best to not go into the Change with lingering negative feelings or worries. Though it was unavoidable at times, those Changes always seemed to be the worst.
I avoided dinner in the Great Hall, knowing that the night before the Change even the potion would not make the riot of light, smell and sound bearable. I had arranged at the very start of term for my dinner to be sent up directly to my chambers for the nights before, on and after the full moon. My only visitor that evening was Severus.
He showed more interest in me than he had on previous days, examining my eyes and inside my mouth, and taking my pulse. It was quite a surreal experience, even if I did know that it was merely scientific curiosity about his potion’s effects rather than actual concern. Once he seemed satisfied, he straightened up.
“I shall bring up the final dose at five o’clock tomorrow,” he intoned. “When I do, I would suggest that you lock the door behind me and try to rest. Though I have no doubt that you will ignore whatever sensible advice I give and do whatever you please.”
I bit back an angry retort. Resting was the last thing that was possible this close to the Change. It fact, it was probably only the tempering effect of the Wolfsbane that allowed me to resist attacking him. Instead, I turned my eyes on him quite fiercely. I was gratified to see him take a tiny step back. I knew the wolf was quite close to the surface now, and evidently he could see it. Good.
“Thank you,” I said, though my words lacked their usual mildness, and came out through gritted teeth. Severus left with a quickened step and without his usual sneer. I felt a fierce kind of satisfaction.
When Severus brought me my potion the next night, only hours before the full moon, he said nothing to me at all. I was already pacing, itchy at my confinement. When he entered, my wand was out and at his throat in an instant, and it took a couple of seconds before I knew him and lowered it, returning to my pacing with a snarl. This was not a good time for an old enemy to be standing in my presence, and he was aware of it. There had been a glimmer in his eyes of something like fear when I had been staring at him, unrecognising, the tip of my wand pressing in where his pulse jumped. For a few seconds, he smelled like Prey.
He held out the goblet and I took it when I passed him in my perambulations, swallowing it in a deep, sickening draught. I paused, long enough to hand the cup back. “Thank you,” I ground out, though words were difficult to wrangle when I could feel the moon’s magnetic pull so strongly and everything was pain. He didn’t speak, but he inclined his head ever so slightly in response, before sweeping out in a flourish of black fabric.
I sealed the door behind him with a Locking Charm and Muffliato. The last was as much a necessity as the first. The Wolfsbane didn’t dull the pain of the Change, after all. In a few short hours, I was screaming as my body twisted and writhed in its grip, then I lay, panting on the floor until the agony lessened to a dull, throbbing ache.
I was Wolf. I knew I was Remus, but more importantly, I was Wolf. Climbing to my feet, I shook out my thick coat from my nose to the tufted tip of my bushy tail. I could see in colour, but more important than that were the smells, which described my surroundings in layers and depths mere sight could never capture.
The rolls of parchment on my desk were covered in traces of the scents of the children who had written them. I jumped up to rest my front feet against the edge of the desk and sniffed deeply. Hermione’s scent was on at least three scrolls; her own, but also Harry’s and Ron’s. My teeth bared in a wolfish grin at that. I could smell the chocolate hidden in my desk drawer, the mud on my boots nearby and, near the door, something chemical which I assumed had been walked in on Severus’s shoes from the Potions Labs in the dungeons.
I did a full circuit of the room, taking my time, exploring every crevice and object with my excellent nose. Coming to a sudden halt in front of the window, I caught sight of the moon, reflecting her glory across the surface of the lake as she peered over the surrounding hills. I howled a serenade with a savage joy, singing a song of hatred and adoration to my mistress.
When she had risen high and grown smaller as she reached her zenith, I crooned my last note and trotted to the hearthrug. There, I stretched out like a lion, basking in the glow, and dozing.
**********************************************
The next morning, I climbed into bed with an effort, only bothering to unlock the door because I knew how foolish it would be to leave myself locked in while sleeping off the effects of the Change and a potion I had never before tried. I didn’t wake until that evening, and when I did it was to the sight of Professor Dumbledore and Severus standing over me.
“I’m sorry to wake you, Remus,” Dumbledore began, “but we needed to know if you will have recovered sufficiently by tomorrow morning to teach. If not, Severus will substitute, and you can return to teaching on Tuesday.”
I stretched tentatively, wincing as joints popped and cracked with the strain. “Yes,” I whispered hoarsely. “I just need to sleep, that’s all.”
Dumbledore smiled apologetically. “Severus must make some observations of your vital signs as well, I believe, in case he needs to make any adjustments when he produces the next batch of Wolfsbane.”
I sighed, but nodded. With an effort, assisted by Dumbledore, I dragged my reluctant body into a sitting position. I didn’t get up any further. Not only was I too weak, but I was naked beneath the blanket. Clothes had seemed unimportant at dawn, when the bed was so conveniently nearby.
Severus poked and prodded me for some time, before clucking in a fair but unintentional imitation of Madame Pomfrey. “You need to eat,” he admonished. He summoned the tray that had obviously appeared not long beforehand on my desk, and sat it down on my lap.
“You’re not going to try to feed me now, are you?” I asked Severus in a feeble attempt at a joke that came out sounding tetchy. “I may be exhausted, but I could still break your arm with one hand right now, and I will do it if you come anywhere near me with a spoonful of chicken soup.”
Dumbledore chuckled, and Severus looked murderous, but his lips twitched slightly spasmodically as though suppressing a smile. “Hardly,” he said, drier than dust.
Dumbledore patted the blankets over my knee kindly, before standing up to leave, Severus trailing in his wake like a second shadow.
<- 4. The Clothes Maketh The Man )O( 6. A Bone of Contention ->