HP - Moony Truths: Two; Truth Be Told
Title: Truth Be Told
Rating: All ages
Characters: The Marauders
Genre: General
Warnings: None
Word Count: 929
Summary: "So, when were you planning on telling us?" "I was hoping I'd never have to."
Author's Note: Part two of What Needs Must Hide.
Part one: It's Always the Quiet Ones
Truth Be Told
Remus returns to his dormitory the morning after the full moon. He pushes the door open, and stops dead. All three of his friends have waited up for him, and the looks on each of their faces tell him exactly what has happened. Remus feels his heart plummet to his toes.
Sirius sits on the end of his bed staring at Remus, hurt and confusion and anger chasing each other across his features, and Remus feels instantly like he should apologise, not just for That, but for being the cause of such an expression.
"So," James says from where he is leaning against the window. "When were you planning on telling us?" Remus glances at him, but James is keeping his face carefully blank. Remus sighs and looks at his shoes.
"I was hoping I'd never have to," he mutters.
"Well then you're a bloody sod," says Peter, unexpectedly blunt. He is perched on the edge of his bed and has one eyebrow quirked in a way that says, very clearly, "You've been very, very silly, Remus Lupin." How an eyebrow can say so much, Remus doesn't know, but it does.
"I expect you're very angry with me," he says quietly.
"Why didn't you tell us?" The hurt is in Sirius's voice, as well, and Remus finds he can't look at him.
"Because you all liked me," Remus says, so softly that he almost can't hear himself. He feels his cheeks burn with shame at how foolish he must sound, how desperate.
In the brief silence that follows, Remus continues to stare very hard at his shoes, and so he misses the disbelieving look that passes between the other three.
"Why would that change now?" Peter asks, and the total confusion in his voice makes Remus look up, astonished. Peter continues, "I mean, it's not like you're a different person, right? Only now it's like it makes sense, seeing as how we'd wondered why you're gone so often."
Remus stares at the other three, eyes moving from face to face to face as though hoping that by staring for long enough he'll somehow be able to make sense of what's going on. "But, he says, "You know, I mean, obviously-and when I'm gone, only I'm not-and you shouldn't, I'm not-it's not that simple!" Remus knows he is babbling, that he isn't making sense, but he has to keep talking. He wants to grab their shoulders and shake them, hard. He wants to make them understand, because clearly they don't. He can't decide whether they're just confused or whether they're certifiably insane, but it doesn't really matter either way if they just don't get it!
In all his thirteen years, nothing has prepared Remus for dealing with stubborn berks who are willing to be friends with monsters.
"You should be running," he says, babbling still, "or screaming, or throwing things, or grabbing your torches and pitchforks, something!" He feels like he's pleading, almost. His mouth works for a minute more, trying to come up with the right words for how utterly idiotic this all is, and failing.
"People like you aren't friends with people like me!" he says finally.
This time, Remus does catch sight of James and Peter's incredulous faces in the silence that falls, heavy and thick. Sirius sits straight up, staring at Remus with a kind of angry intensity, and Remus is sure he's about three seconds from having his nose reshaped.
"Bollocks!" he says, his lip curling. "Why the hell shouldn't you have friends?"
Something in Sirius's voice, the anger perhaps, or the air of quiet affront, gets under Remus's skin and he realises suddenly that his hands are balled into fists at his sides. He thinks he almost might like to punch Sirius. Why does he get to be angry when Remus has been trying for eight years simply to deal with what he is?
"I don't know, Sirius, maybe because I turn into a great bloody wolf once a month?"
There is another silence in which James pushes himself off the wall, crossing his arms across his chest. Peter sits straight up, looking almost like he's going to start yelling. And Sirius slowly gets up, unfolding from his graceful slouch.
"Remus," he says, very carefully, "We. Don't. Care." He holds Remus's eyes for a moment, like he's looking for something, though Remus has no idea what he could be looking for.
"We know you, Remus. So what if you're not always the boy we're looking at now? We're friends, Remus, and that means we're still going to like you, no matter what furry little problem you've got."
Remus stares back at Sirius, speechless. It is insane, it is stupid. Remus is still unsure what, exactly, has just happened, but for now he is tired and confused, and feels that both of these would be cured, at least in part, by a good night's sleep.
He rolls his eyes with a weary sigh and turns to flop onto his bed. Behind him he hears the others getting into bed, the click as James closes his glasses-case, the dull thumping of Peter punching his pillows into a more comfortable shape. And quietly, very quietly, Sirius's voice.
"Goodnight, Moony."
Remus, half-asleep already, smiles. Moony. Later, he will remember this moment as the first time someone cared enough about him to give him a nickname. For now, all he knows is that James and Peter, and especially Sirius, are a strange and unpredictable group, but they are his friends, and that's really all that matters.
continue
Rating: All ages
Characters: The Marauders
Genre: General
Warnings: None
Word Count: 929
Summary: "So, when were you planning on telling us?" "I was hoping I'd never have to."
Author's Note: Part two of What Needs Must Hide.
Part one: It's Always the Quiet Ones
Truth Be Told
Remus returns to his dormitory the morning after the full moon. He pushes the door open, and stops dead. All three of his friends have waited up for him, and the looks on each of their faces tell him exactly what has happened. Remus feels his heart plummet to his toes.
Sirius sits on the end of his bed staring at Remus, hurt and confusion and anger chasing each other across his features, and Remus feels instantly like he should apologise, not just for That, but for being the cause of such an expression.
"So," James says from where he is leaning against the window. "When were you planning on telling us?" Remus glances at him, but James is keeping his face carefully blank. Remus sighs and looks at his shoes.
"I was hoping I'd never have to," he mutters.
"Well then you're a bloody sod," says Peter, unexpectedly blunt. He is perched on the edge of his bed and has one eyebrow quirked in a way that says, very clearly, "You've been very, very silly, Remus Lupin." How an eyebrow can say so much, Remus doesn't know, but it does.
"I expect you're very angry with me," he says quietly.
"Why didn't you tell us?" The hurt is in Sirius's voice, as well, and Remus finds he can't look at him.
"Because you all liked me," Remus says, so softly that he almost can't hear himself. He feels his cheeks burn with shame at how foolish he must sound, how desperate.
In the brief silence that follows, Remus continues to stare very hard at his shoes, and so he misses the disbelieving look that passes between the other three.
"Why would that change now?" Peter asks, and the total confusion in his voice makes Remus look up, astonished. Peter continues, "I mean, it's not like you're a different person, right? Only now it's like it makes sense, seeing as how we'd wondered why you're gone so often."
Remus stares at the other three, eyes moving from face to face to face as though hoping that by staring for long enough he'll somehow be able to make sense of what's going on. "But, he says, "You know, I mean, obviously-and when I'm gone, only I'm not-and you shouldn't, I'm not-it's not that simple!" Remus knows he is babbling, that he isn't making sense, but he has to keep talking. He wants to grab their shoulders and shake them, hard. He wants to make them understand, because clearly they don't. He can't decide whether they're just confused or whether they're certifiably insane, but it doesn't really matter either way if they just don't get it!
In all his thirteen years, nothing has prepared Remus for dealing with stubborn berks who are willing to be friends with monsters.
"You should be running," he says, babbling still, "or screaming, or throwing things, or grabbing your torches and pitchforks, something!" He feels like he's pleading, almost. His mouth works for a minute more, trying to come up with the right words for how utterly idiotic this all is, and failing.
"People like you aren't friends with people like me!" he says finally.
This time, Remus does catch sight of James and Peter's incredulous faces in the silence that falls, heavy and thick. Sirius sits straight up, staring at Remus with a kind of angry intensity, and Remus is sure he's about three seconds from having his nose reshaped.
"Bollocks!" he says, his lip curling. "Why the hell shouldn't you have friends?"
Something in Sirius's voice, the anger perhaps, or the air of quiet affront, gets under Remus's skin and he realises suddenly that his hands are balled into fists at his sides. He thinks he almost might like to punch Sirius. Why does he get to be angry when Remus has been trying for eight years simply to deal with what he is?
"I don't know, Sirius, maybe because I turn into a great bloody wolf once a month?"
There is another silence in which James pushes himself off the wall, crossing his arms across his chest. Peter sits straight up, looking almost like he's going to start yelling. And Sirius slowly gets up, unfolding from his graceful slouch.
"Remus," he says, very carefully, "We. Don't. Care." He holds Remus's eyes for a moment, like he's looking for something, though Remus has no idea what he could be looking for.
"We know you, Remus. So what if you're not always the boy we're looking at now? We're friends, Remus, and that means we're still going to like you, no matter what furry little problem you've got."
Remus stares back at Sirius, speechless. It is insane, it is stupid. Remus is still unsure what, exactly, has just happened, but for now he is tired and confused, and feels that both of these would be cured, at least in part, by a good night's sleep.
He rolls his eyes with a weary sigh and turns to flop onto his bed. Behind him he hears the others getting into bed, the click as James closes his glasses-case, the dull thumping of Peter punching his pillows into a more comfortable shape. And quietly, very quietly, Sirius's voice.
"Goodnight, Moony."
Remus, half-asleep already, smiles. Moony. Later, he will remember this moment as the first time someone cared enough about him to give him a nickname. For now, all he knows is that James and Peter, and especially Sirius, are a strange and unpredictable group, but they are his friends, and that's really all that matters.
continue