fanfic50: 021. Moonlight.
Set in grownhp6words, the night he moves to Hogwarts after his conversation with Harry.
It's late. He knows that much, but as he stares at the streaks of moonlight coming into his room, he realizes that he doesn't really care. It really doesn't matter.
It has been a few hours since Remus has moved into one of the apartments at Hogwarts, and already he's itching to go back to the house where he had been staying at. The one that had actually been comforting, because here in the castle he feels lost. Misplaced.
And he's a threat. He's a threat to the professors. He's a threat to the children. He had proven that on the full moon, hadn't he? He had woken up with blood all over.
As if on cue, his stomach churns and twists at the thought, but he ignores it by bringing the cigarette he's smoking up to his lips and taking a drag. A long drag to cloud what he's feeling. To feel the burn in his lungs. To try and get rid of the nausea and the thoughts that make him feel even worse than what he already is.
There are three cigarettes left in the pack Harry gave him earlier, and even if he knows he should probably stop smoking, and instead he should eat and sleep, he can't. Whenever he tries to eat, he feels sick again. Whenever he sleeps, he wakes up shortly after. He should probably go to Poppy, or even Severus for a potion but what is he supposed to say, exactly? He needs something for his nightmares? He needs something to get rid of the guilt that keeps sending his head spinning?
So, instead, he's sitting on the floor, back against the wall, and smoking as he stares blankly at the rays of moonlight that are coming into his room since the curtains are in the same place where they had been all day.
Tomorrow he would have to start pretending. He would step out of the room and face the students in the hallway. He would face the professors. He would face the rumors. He would face it all, and he had to come up with a way to not show what he's really feeling. He'll hide that helplessness, that panic, that fear, and that guilt deep within him. He will look worried as the rest of the professors do, but not panic. He would not give himself away.
But that's tomorrow.
Tonight he cannot face it all. Tonight he feels panicky. Tonight there's a helplessness so deep that he just smokes through another cigarette as if hoping it'll ease everything he's feeling.
Tonight he just sits on the floor, staring at the moonlight. Maybe this way he'll remember.
It's late. He knows that much, but as he stares at the streaks of moonlight coming into his room, he realizes that he doesn't really care. It really doesn't matter.
It has been a few hours since Remus has moved into one of the apartments at Hogwarts, and already he's itching to go back to the house where he had been staying at. The one that had actually been comforting, because here in the castle he feels lost. Misplaced.
And he's a threat. He's a threat to the professors. He's a threat to the children. He had proven that on the full moon, hadn't he? He had woken up with blood all over.
As if on cue, his stomach churns and twists at the thought, but he ignores it by bringing the cigarette he's smoking up to his lips and taking a drag. A long drag to cloud what he's feeling. To feel the burn in his lungs. To try and get rid of the nausea and the thoughts that make him feel even worse than what he already is.
There are three cigarettes left in the pack Harry gave him earlier, and even if he knows he should probably stop smoking, and instead he should eat and sleep, he can't. Whenever he tries to eat, he feels sick again. Whenever he sleeps, he wakes up shortly after. He should probably go to Poppy, or even Severus for a potion but what is he supposed to say, exactly? He needs something for his nightmares? He needs something to get rid of the guilt that keeps sending his head spinning?
So, instead, he's sitting on the floor, back against the wall, and smoking as he stares blankly at the rays of moonlight that are coming into his room since the curtains are in the same place where they had been all day.
Tomorrow he would have to start pretending. He would step out of the room and face the students in the hallway. He would face the professors. He would face the rumors. He would face it all, and he had to come up with a way to not show what he's really feeling. He'll hide that helplessness, that panic, that fear, and that guilt deep within him. He will look worried as the rest of the professors do, but not panic. He would not give himself away.
But that's tomorrow.
Tonight he cannot face it all. Tonight he feels panicky. Tonight there's a helplessness so deep that he just smokes through another cigarette as if hoping it'll ease everything he's feeling.
Tonight he just sits on the floor, staring at the moonlight. Maybe this way he'll remember.