Waiting for the Moon - Two
Waiting for the Moon
Two
‘all the darkest corners of a sense I didn’t know’
He had been foolish to trust the cat.
Another unsuccessful night of hunting had exhausted the dog beyond caring whether or not he ate; he’d stayed in the cave, flitting in and out of sleep for some time, strange dreams making him even more befuddled. Then he had smelled it. Birdflesh. Cooked birdflesh.
Impossible, it was a dream. Maybe. What was the harm in making sure? Rising made his head spin and he had to fight to keep his knees from buckling as he made his way toward the cave’s entrance. There, sat on a rock, was a grey and black tabby cat. His instinct was to growl, to chase it off or to eat it but he resisted. The cat was familiar somehow, smelled like. . . someone. Someone that made him feel at his ease.
Besides, it seemed to be using its nose to push a chicken at him.
No hesitation slowed him as he fell upon the bird, biting and swallowing huge mouthfuls in an attempt to quiet the grinding in his belly. He didn’t notice the faint, herby taste left behind by the sleeping draught in which the bird had been cooked or associate that odd taste with his sudden grogginess. He was so busy devouring his food he didn’t even notice as the cat shimmered and a tall, formidable-looking woman carrying a broomstick took its place. By the time every morsel was gone, the potion had taken effect and the sated dog lay sleeping on the hard ground.
The woman gave him a slight nudge with her foot; he did not move. Satisfied, she picked him up, placed him gently in a small crate dangling from the body of the broom and they both took off into the night.
He came to inside a dark, close space lined with several blankets. His head felt muzzy but he was warm and his stomach was full, although the jerking of the thing in which he was riding threatened to undo that fullness. Indignant, he let out a howl.
‘I’m terribly sorry about drugging you, Sirius, but I could think of no other way,’ came a crisp reply from above. It was a woman’s voice, a voice he felt he knew.
Sirius. A name. His name? Thinking about it made him shiver.
The woman kept talking. ‘I didn’t think it was a good idea at first, but Remus was just so set on it that I didn’t have the heart to let him down. You know how stubborn Remus can be when he’s set his mind to something! Polite, naturally, but so stubborn!’
Remus. The sound of the word triggered something in the greyness, something pleasant this time. Soft eyes, soft voice, a feeling of safety. . . something else he couldn’t decipher. From deep inside came a twinge of longing. He whined.
‘Still, it’s for the best, seeing as. . . well. No need to worry you about that. You ought to settle down and get a bit of proper sleep. We won’t be there for at least another hour. Oh, look at all those lights down there! It must be Madrid. You know, I’ve never seen it from above at night before. I must tell Albus about it when I get back. We went there on holiday once, a long time ago, and he thought it would be a bit of a lark if we pretended to be Muggles, so we took the plane instead of bringing our brooms. It was daytime, though, so I never got to see all these lovely lights! Reminds me of the time we. . .’
Perhaps he had not been so foolish. He was very warm now. The swaying had stopped making him queasy and had begun to feel rather soothing. He listened as the woman’s voice went on, her stories following him into his dreams. Not all of him slept, however. Quietly, slowly, hidden places opened themselves up like blossoms and Sirius Black began to remember.
~
Despite his feeling that at least two hours must have passed the clock only showed a difference of twenty minutes. Hopeful, he held his ear up to the casing. Damn. The thing was still running after all.
Chagrined, Remus sat down heavily on the parlor sofa and conjured himself a cup of tea. There was nothing he could do but wait.
The past two days had been spent in a flurry of readying everything from the foods he thought Sirius might like to eat to the music he might like to hear. There were new sheets on the bed, all manner of goods stashed away in the pantry, five different kinds of soap by the bathtub and a pair of fleecy slippers waiting beneath a soft, woolen robe near the door.
Remus had even purchased a few new CDs to add to his growing collection. Thinking about the charmed CD player in the library brought a grin to his face. That certainly ought to give him a bit of a surprise! Me, with a modern Muggle device in my home!
It had been a gift from a friend, a thank-you for disposing of a banshee that had attempted to make her home in the family well. Although he kept his old Victrola and records, the new machine and the variety of music he could buy for it had proved much too alluring for someone as fascinated by recorded sound as he was. His books reigned supreme in sheer quantity to his CDs by a margin of only a few hundred, and the difference was now growing smaller at every opportunity.
The clock let off a tiny chirp, startling him. Surely they couldn’t be here so soon? Eagerly, he drew the map from his pocket to check. No, he and the hawk were the only names it bore. So why. . . ah. Yes. Time for his medicine.
‘Accio pills,’ he ordered with a flick of his wand, and a large glass bottle appeared on the side table next to his teacup. Remus removed the stopper and tilted the bottle, letting a single pill roll out before closing it again and sending it back to the medicine cabinet. The pill on the tabletop glowed like a tiny moon against the rich walnut of the wood. He had been told that the glow was due to a reaction between the moonstone and the silver but it was his opinion that their creator had done it purposely in order to show off.
At least it’s more palatable than that god-awful potion, he mused, downing the little orb in a gulp of tea. He felt a slight tremor of nausea as the silver hit his stomach, faint disorientation, then nothing. I downplayed it's effect when I spoke to Albus. Perhaps I should have told him everything. After all, not everyone is as tolerant of discomfort as I am. Still, I don’t want there to be any excuse to not move forward with development. Anything is tolerable compared to being the wolf.
No treatment was without side effects, he knew. Snape had explained them all to him the day he’d given him the first dose.
~
‘You’ll keep most of the physical attributes,’ he‘d said, the dull flatness of his voice failing to hide his distaste of Remus’ joyous reaction to the tablet before him. ‘The strength, heightened senses of smell and taste, the. . . libido.’ Snape glared at him as though he expected to be accosted straight away.
Not that he’d mind it if I did. Remus held back a smirk. As always, it would not behoove him to irritate the man.
‘It will stop the blood lust, the violence, the lack of mental control and, of course, you will not transform. You won’t be able to infect anyone, even intentionally’ Again the glare, the look that regarded him as filthy, less than human, dangerous.
‘So what’s the catch?’ he asked, voice thick with tension.
‘Once a year you’ll have to give it up for a month.’ He sounded almost pleased.
‘If I don’t?’
‘Then the silver will build up and kill you. One transformation a year should be enough to rid your system of the excess.’
That was good enough for Remus. Lifting his glass in a not entirely mocking toast, he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed.
~
To come to a day later in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, he reminded himself wryly. Snape had forgotten - accidently, he was sure - to mention that the first few doses would make him incredibly sick until his body built up a tolerance to the silver.
Oh, well, let him be a miserable git! Remus thought, rising from the comfortable sofa to light the fire. Truthfully, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. He had never doubted that the Potions master’s deep dislike of him was motivated by jealousy that not only was a creature such as Remus allowed to be infinitely happier than a human such as himself and that he had little to do with it. Happy he was now, to be sure, happier than he’d thought he’d ever be again.
The vivid light from the fire seemed to make the rest of the room appear dim. Perhaps it was just the fading sun trading its pale, watery glow for the cool lilac haze of twilight. He walked to the window to rest his forehead against the bright coldness of the glass, leaving the map in view on the windowsill.
Outside nothing was moving but the wind in the trees and the whispering flakes of snow spiralling gently on the ground. Stars would be appearing behind the swathes of cloud that draped the sky. The rising moon was shrouded as well, its light muted and tamed, no longer to be feared. His breath fogged against the glass as he exhaled, clearing as he breathed in. Fog, clear. Fog, clear. Wait.
At the far edge of the trees, a shadow separated itself from the others, moving unevenly into the dense field of snow. The wards triggered at the same time the lines on the map traced two new names to add to his own. Remus. Minerva.
Sirius.
(header quote from Joy Division, 'Twenty-Four Hours', lj cut quote from Tindersticks, 'Waiting for the Moon'.)