The truest test is when we cannot, when we cannot see
Date: Friday, 15 June, 2001
Time: Evening
Location: Hogwarts
Characters Involved: Remus Lupin and Severus Snape
Rating: R for language and sensitive emotional subjects
It had been the hardest day yet for Remus. He'd tried not to think of the events of a week before. He failed. But he'd tried.
By the end of the last lessons for the day, he wanted nothing so much as to take a bottle of firewhiskey up to his quarters and sit in darkness with London Calling. He even skipped dinner in the Great Hall, despite assuring Minerva he would not brood in his quarters as he had half the week already. Marking final essays, that was his excuse so he wouldn't have to admit he was avoiding the world tonight.
When the tapping at the window finally reached his conscious, he was terribly surprised to find himself in the normal world, jolted from the morbid turns his thoughts seemed bent on taking.
It wasn't unusual to get post in the evenings, though Remus was rarely in regular correspondence with many. Still, there had been several letters of condolence in the past seven days. Taking the scroll from the owl's leg, he watched the bird fly out of site before opening the scroll. His brows furrowed in confusion as he unrolled it to find bits of Prophet articles spell-o-taped to it. A quick scan of the first couple headlines confirmed the articles were all related to Mandy's execution.
He'd expected a backlash, but this was simply cruel...
As he unrolled the scroll further, writing was revealed, writing in an ink that almost looked like...blood. Once it was all revealed, he had no doubt that was the substance used to write the brief message:
Not bored.
Below it was a bloody hand print inside a circle of blood.
Remus' hands trembled, causing the scroll to shake, blurring the words to his sight. But, it didn't matter, his mind's eye offered an new vision to replace the blurred.
So, the traitor has a backbone after all.
Watch who you threaten, Lupin.
The french bitch robbed me of much of my fun when she left.
When I get bored, I need to find new entertainment.
Greyback's words. Greyback's marks.
The world seemed to fall out from beneath him, his legs no longer able to support him as he slid to his knees. It was difficult to breathe. The air filling his lungs felt heavy, like lead, burning them with each inhalation. The scrap of parchment fluttered uselessly to the ground as his hands joined his knees in the effort to keep the broken man from collapsing to the floor.
How foolish? How very, very foolish could he have been?
Blood was rushing through his veins, his pulse racing as though he'd just fought a challenge for rank within a pack. All the rage and grief he had been pushing aside for a week rose up inside him, pounding at the barriers that had kept his inner beast at bay.
I am no longer yours.
If you come after mine again, you will wish for the Ministry's mercy.
It all made so much sense now. The appeals. Greyback would have wanted to stop the appeals. And, he had. The monster had framed Mandy somehow. He had to have. Frame Mandy for murder, resulting in her execution, and halt the appeals -- in one swift kill, he had proved to the werewolf community that the Ministry would never accept them. And, he took Mandy's life in the process.
That thought pulled Remus from his thoughts as violently as the act he contemplated. Standing abruptly, his sudden burst of furious energy was released with one swift sweep of his arm, sending everything atop his desk to the floor. Rationality had fled in favor of unconcealed anger and despair.
"I say, Professor!" The portrait of a former Head of House that hung behind Remus' desk started from a quiet doze, seemingly shocked at the unexpected outburst from so calm a man. "Really, this isn't like you."
"Shut it!" An ink bottle, which had somehow managed to maintain its tenuous hold upon the desk edge, shattered on one corner of the frame, sending the portrait scuttling off to who knew where, probably to report his behavior to the Headmistress.
But, Remus didn't care.
Give it up, Lupin. Before you don't have a pack to worry about.
What was a reprimand from a dour old Scotswoman, when he had just been supremely reprimanded by the one who had made him the monster he was?
Time: Evening
Location: Hogwarts
Characters Involved: Remus Lupin and Severus Snape
Rating: R for language and sensitive emotional subjects
It had been the hardest day yet for Remus. He'd tried not to think of the events of a week before. He failed. But he'd tried.
By the end of the last lessons for the day, he wanted nothing so much as to take a bottle of firewhiskey up to his quarters and sit in darkness with London Calling. He even skipped dinner in the Great Hall, despite assuring Minerva he would not brood in his quarters as he had half the week already. Marking final essays, that was his excuse so he wouldn't have to admit he was avoiding the world tonight.
When the tapping at the window finally reached his conscious, he was terribly surprised to find himself in the normal world, jolted from the morbid turns his thoughts seemed bent on taking.
It wasn't unusual to get post in the evenings, though Remus was rarely in regular correspondence with many. Still, there had been several letters of condolence in the past seven days. Taking the scroll from the owl's leg, he watched the bird fly out of site before opening the scroll. His brows furrowed in confusion as he unrolled it to find bits of Prophet articles spell-o-taped to it. A quick scan of the first couple headlines confirmed the articles were all related to Mandy's execution.
He'd expected a backlash, but this was simply cruel...
As he unrolled the scroll further, writing was revealed, writing in an ink that almost looked like...blood. Once it was all revealed, he had no doubt that was the substance used to write the brief message:
Not bored.
Below it was a bloody hand print inside a circle of blood.
Remus' hands trembled, causing the scroll to shake, blurring the words to his sight. But, it didn't matter, his mind's eye offered an new vision to replace the blurred.
So, the traitor has a backbone after all.
Watch who you threaten, Lupin.
The french bitch robbed me of much of my fun when she left.
When I get bored, I need to find new entertainment.
Greyback's words. Greyback's marks.
The world seemed to fall out from beneath him, his legs no longer able to support him as he slid to his knees. It was difficult to breathe. The air filling his lungs felt heavy, like lead, burning them with each inhalation. The scrap of parchment fluttered uselessly to the ground as his hands joined his knees in the effort to keep the broken man from collapsing to the floor.
How foolish? How very, very foolish could he have been?
Blood was rushing through his veins, his pulse racing as though he'd just fought a challenge for rank within a pack. All the rage and grief he had been pushing aside for a week rose up inside him, pounding at the barriers that had kept his inner beast at bay.
I am no longer yours.
If you come after mine again, you will wish for the Ministry's mercy.
It all made so much sense now. The appeals. Greyback would have wanted to stop the appeals. And, he had. The monster had framed Mandy somehow. He had to have. Frame Mandy for murder, resulting in her execution, and halt the appeals -- in one swift kill, he had proved to the werewolf community that the Ministry would never accept them. And, he took Mandy's life in the process.
That thought pulled Remus from his thoughts as violently as the act he contemplated. Standing abruptly, his sudden burst of furious energy was released with one swift sweep of his arm, sending everything atop his desk to the floor. Rationality had fled in favor of unconcealed anger and despair.
"I say, Professor!" The portrait of a former Head of House that hung behind Remus' desk started from a quiet doze, seemingly shocked at the unexpected outburst from so calm a man. "Really, this isn't like you."
"Shut it!" An ink bottle, which had somehow managed to maintain its tenuous hold upon the desk edge, shattered on one corner of the frame, sending the portrait scuttling off to who knew where, probably to report his behavior to the Headmistress.
But, Remus didn't care.
Give it up, Lupin. Before you don't have a pack to worry about.
What was a reprimand from a dour old Scotswoman, when he had just been supremely reprimanded by the one who had made him the monster he was?