The Killing Moon
Title: The Killing Moon
Author: FernWithy
Format & Word Count: Ficlet, 1085
Rating: PG
Prompt: February 25
Warning: Character death (probably).
Summary: A weakened Remus faces his last transformation.
Author's Note: I used the same children and grandchildren as I did in Gens Lupina, if you didn't read that and are wondering who these random people are.
He heard her weeping on the far side of the door, fighting with the children--and their grown grandchildren--to let her come through. Some cowardly part of him wanted her to win.
He could feel the fever raging through him. It was bad, but it would pass in a few days.
Or would have passed, with the proper potions and a lot of rest.
The transformation wouldn't allow for rest. It would rip through his weakened body and kill him. It was something he had always been prepared for, in some part of his mind--he had seen many werewolves die--but as moonrise neared, his soul rose up in protest, and his mind cried out at the unfairness.
Which was absurd. He'd had over one hundred years. If it hadn't been this fever, this moon, it would have been soon in any case. But to die transformed... to die a monster... He took a shaky breath, and felt the tears on his face, old man's tears. He'd once been better able to hide them.
"I am not leaving him alone!" Her voice carried through the door. "I won't! I can handle the bloody, goddamned wolf!"
"Granny!"
"Don't 'Granny' me, Alphard Morse! How dare you keep me out? How dare you?"
A soft murmur, and Remus guessed it was Orry, trying to talk her back away from the door.
He turned his head. He could see her through the small window, her iron gray hair wild from the time she'd spent tearing it all day as she tried every potion she knew to bring down the fever, or, failing that, to at least give him the strength to withstand the moon. The children had been in and out all day, but Dora had stayed until one of the children had fetched Harry himself and he'd somehow talked her out beyond the door.
Remus wished no one had thought to do that.
"Let me go!" she screamed, and then her voice changed, pleaded. "Harry, please. We can handle one sick, tired werewolf. Let me go in. We can all go in. Oh, please, Harry. Please. All of us together, if he tries to bite, we can... Harry, please. He's been drinking the damned Wolfsbane. It will only be for..." In the window, he saw her head slowly sink down, and he knew she was sliding down the door. "I can't do this."
Remus closed his eyes, wishing he could spare her this one last pain, but knowing she could handle it a lot better than he could, were their positions reversed. He--
The door latch snicked, and he opened his eyes.
Dora nearly flew through the door, throwing herself onto the bed beside him and holding him close, kissing him through the thin nightshirt and weeping. He didn't have the strength to fight her. He put his hand in her hair and stroked it, and it was comforting as it had always been comforting. Slowly, the others followed her in--Harry himself, looking more like Dumbledore than James these days, Ginny standing quietly beside him, her hair still holding the last of its red tint. Then his children and their husbands and wives, and their children, and in Mira's case, her three grandchildren and one great-grandchild. Orry's teenage grandson, named for Remus but looking eerily like Regulus Black, stood at the foot of the bed, watching him solemnly, and Hermione Weasley closed the door behind them all.
Dora's hand stroked the side of his face. "We'll not leave you," she said. "I won't. I'll never leave you, Remus."
He caught her hand and kissed her fingers. "My Dora."
"Your very own..."
"You shouldn't... none of you should..."
"Nonsense," Hermione said from the doorway. "We're all able to handle you if you do--when you transform..."
"And it won't be for long anyway?" he asked, trying to make it sound wry. He could hear his voice shaking.
"Don't be silly," Dora said. "You'll transform, like every other month, and you'll feel awful in the morning, but I'll... I'll brew that potion Sirius used to make and..." She couldn't finish, and collapsed, weeping, against his neck.
"Hush," he said. "Who knows? It's possible. Perhaps..." But it was a lie. He knew his body, and he knew the transformation, and he knew it was too much. "It's been a good life. Thank you."
"I don't want you to go. We've only just started."
"I'll be very patient," he said. "And I'll wait for you. Quietly. You stay here a long time, so you'll have stories to tell me. I'll want to hear them all. But I have to go on ahead."
She sat back and wiped her face. "Right. You always have to do everything first."
"It's the curse of being ancient."
She tried to smile at their old joke, but failed miserably and began to cry again. Carina came and sat beside her, and a few of the children put their hands on her.
Remus nodded to Harry. "Too close now," he said.
Harry nodded back. "Come on, Tonks. Why don't you stand back, where he can see your face?"
She made a keening noise, but moved backward on the bed. She didn't stand. She kept her hands on his feet, caressing him.
"Bind me then," he said.
"No..."
"Dora, bind me or leave."
She raised her wand, and soft ropes wrapped around his upper body, pinning his arms down, keeping him from rising. His namesake great-grandson looked at this with horror, then looked away.
"Remus," he said.
The boy turned back.
"It's all right."
"It's not."
"It is. Come here."
He came over. "What is it, Grandfather?"
"Will you do something for me?"
"Of course."
"After... will you go outside, and look at the moon for me? Tell it Remus Lupin's got the better of it."
Young Remus looked at him like he was quite mad, but said, "All right. If that's what you want."
"And take Granny with you."
"Oh, no, no, no," Dora said.
"I will," young Remus said.
Remus moved his fingers and Dora grasped them. "It's close," he said. "Stay together."
He let his eyes travel from one face to the next, the people who had come to him, the ones who hadn't left him alone. He thought he saw faces there that couldn't be there--Dumbledore, McGonagall, his parents, Sirius, Lily, James--and then there was the old compulsion to look heavenward, the fire in his mind.
The killing moon rose.
Author: FernWithy
Format & Word Count: Ficlet, 1085
Rating: PG
Prompt: February 25
Warning: Character death (probably).
Summary: A weakened Remus faces his last transformation.
Author's Note: I used the same children and grandchildren as I did in Gens Lupina, if you didn't read that and are wondering who these random people are.
He heard her weeping on the far side of the door, fighting with the children--and their grown grandchildren--to let her come through. Some cowardly part of him wanted her to win.
He could feel the fever raging through him. It was bad, but it would pass in a few days.
Or would have passed, with the proper potions and a lot of rest.
The transformation wouldn't allow for rest. It would rip through his weakened body and kill him. It was something he had always been prepared for, in some part of his mind--he had seen many werewolves die--but as moonrise neared, his soul rose up in protest, and his mind cried out at the unfairness.
Which was absurd. He'd had over one hundred years. If it hadn't been this fever, this moon, it would have been soon in any case. But to die transformed... to die a monster... He took a shaky breath, and felt the tears on his face, old man's tears. He'd once been better able to hide them.
"I am not leaving him alone!" Her voice carried through the door. "I won't! I can handle the bloody, goddamned wolf!"
"Granny!"
"Don't 'Granny' me, Alphard Morse! How dare you keep me out? How dare you?"
A soft murmur, and Remus guessed it was Orry, trying to talk her back away from the door.
He turned his head. He could see her through the small window, her iron gray hair wild from the time she'd spent tearing it all day as she tried every potion she knew to bring down the fever, or, failing that, to at least give him the strength to withstand the moon. The children had been in and out all day, but Dora had stayed until one of the children had fetched Harry himself and he'd somehow talked her out beyond the door.
Remus wished no one had thought to do that.
"Let me go!" she screamed, and then her voice changed, pleaded. "Harry, please. We can handle one sick, tired werewolf. Let me go in. We can all go in. Oh, please, Harry. Please. All of us together, if he tries to bite, we can... Harry, please. He's been drinking the damned Wolfsbane. It will only be for..." In the window, he saw her head slowly sink down, and he knew she was sliding down the door. "I can't do this."
Remus closed his eyes, wishing he could spare her this one last pain, but knowing she could handle it a lot better than he could, were their positions reversed. He--
The door latch snicked, and he opened his eyes.
Dora nearly flew through the door, throwing herself onto the bed beside him and holding him close, kissing him through the thin nightshirt and weeping. He didn't have the strength to fight her. He put his hand in her hair and stroked it, and it was comforting as it had always been comforting. Slowly, the others followed her in--Harry himself, looking more like Dumbledore than James these days, Ginny standing quietly beside him, her hair still holding the last of its red tint. Then his children and their husbands and wives, and their children, and in Mira's case, her three grandchildren and one great-grandchild. Orry's teenage grandson, named for Remus but looking eerily like Regulus Black, stood at the foot of the bed, watching him solemnly, and Hermione Weasley closed the door behind them all.
Dora's hand stroked the side of his face. "We'll not leave you," she said. "I won't. I'll never leave you, Remus."
He caught her hand and kissed her fingers. "My Dora."
"Your very own..."
"You shouldn't... none of you should..."
"Nonsense," Hermione said from the doorway. "We're all able to handle you if you do--when you transform..."
"And it won't be for long anyway?" he asked, trying to make it sound wry. He could hear his voice shaking.
"Don't be silly," Dora said. "You'll transform, like every other month, and you'll feel awful in the morning, but I'll... I'll brew that potion Sirius used to make and..." She couldn't finish, and collapsed, weeping, against his neck.
"Hush," he said. "Who knows? It's possible. Perhaps..." But it was a lie. He knew his body, and he knew the transformation, and he knew it was too much. "It's been a good life. Thank you."
"I don't want you to go. We've only just started."
"I'll be very patient," he said. "And I'll wait for you. Quietly. You stay here a long time, so you'll have stories to tell me. I'll want to hear them all. But I have to go on ahead."
She sat back and wiped her face. "Right. You always have to do everything first."
"It's the curse of being ancient."
She tried to smile at their old joke, but failed miserably and began to cry again. Carina came and sat beside her, and a few of the children put their hands on her.
Remus nodded to Harry. "Too close now," he said.
Harry nodded back. "Come on, Tonks. Why don't you stand back, where he can see your face?"
She made a keening noise, but moved backward on the bed. She didn't stand. She kept her hands on his feet, caressing him.
"Bind me then," he said.
"No..."
"Dora, bind me or leave."
She raised her wand, and soft ropes wrapped around his upper body, pinning his arms down, keeping him from rising. His namesake great-grandson looked at this with horror, then looked away.
"Remus," he said.
The boy turned back.
"It's all right."
"It's not."
"It is. Come here."
He came over. "What is it, Grandfather?"
"Will you do something for me?"
"Of course."
"After... will you go outside, and look at the moon for me? Tell it Remus Lupin's got the better of it."
Young Remus looked at him like he was quite mad, but said, "All right. If that's what you want."
"And take Granny with you."
"Oh, no, no, no," Dora said.
"I will," young Remus said.
Remus moved his fingers and Dora grasped them. "It's close," he said. "Stay together."
He let his eyes travel from one face to the next, the people who had come to him, the ones who hadn't left him alone. He thought he saw faces there that couldn't be there--Dumbledore, McGonagall, his parents, Sirius, Lily, James--and then there was the old compulsion to look heavenward, the fire in his mind.
The killing moon rose.