Running Away

Running Away

Lily. Lily, meet me tonight. An hour after midnight, at the tapestry of the German prince and princess. On the fifth floor. I-we need to talk.

I read the words written in black ink on my ChatPad with growing dread. So he was going to do it. He was going to tell me that our relationship wasn't going to work. I didn't understand why. We'd kept it a secret for so long. James--that arrogant idiot, who can't help but stare at me every time I walk past him--would've never found out. We were good at keeping secrets; especially him. I didn't want to answer, but my loyalty to him forced my hand to write a response.

Okay. I'll see you there.

My mind shifted from the current Transfigurations class at hand to my object of deep affection. I thought with nostalgia about the good times, when we hadn't any worries; when we were younger.

Life was perfect after I started seeing him. He was--everything I ever wanted, needed. He was gentle, exceedingly kind, and had a calming, quiet aura about him. He was tender--and rather good-looking as well. He was fervently infatuated with me, as I was with him.

After two years though, as we got closer and closer to graduation, he became more--melancholy. His eyes . . . you could see something in them that before was barely a shadow. When we got too intimate, he'd stop himself and just leave. His beast was rising up and making him feel guilty, undeserving.

I don't want you

To give it all up

And leave your own life collecting dust

And I don't want you to feel sorry for me

You never gave us a chance to be

Our relationship had almost broken apart in fourth year, a time when our bond had still been blossoming, when I found out that he was a werewolf. He had been so ashamed, like an injured, lowly wolf. He'd hidden from me, avoided me, for over a month when all I'd wanted to do was hug him and tell him that I didn't give a damn if he was a vampire, goblin, ogre, or a werewolf, for that matter. He was afraid of my rejection, my anger, and my repulsion.

I almost had gotten angry at him, for being so silly and cowardly, hiding from me. Eventually, I cornered him, and instead of slapping him, as he had no doubt thought I would, I kissed him. And everything after that ran a little more smoothly.

And I don't need you

To be by my side

To tell me that everything's alright

I just wanted you

To tell me the truth

You know I'd do that for you

I was angry and frustrated at him now. Why was he doing this? A few months ago, he had dropped the hint that he was undeserving of me. I told him not to say it again. And he shouldn't. He was deserving--deserving of everything that any other person had. Remus Lupin was a human being, a human being with a curse placed upon him. He was not a half-human, however. He--

"Miss Evans? Would you care to answer the question?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking at me, slightly worried at her star female student's lack of response.

"Oh--sorry, I'm afraid I didn't catch it. Would you ask me again?" I replied with the slightest of blushes, feeling rather annoyed for the very first time at my Transfigurations professor.

"Of course. Which kind of spell . . ."

For the remainder of the day, I refrained from thinking about Remus. I was forced to avoid him to stop the numerous thoughts about him from overflowing my mind. It was too much. Too much.

So why are you running away?

Why are you running away?

---

Tick tock. Tick tock. The irregular echo of the dilapidated grandfather clock on the third floor followed me hauntingly up the staircase as I headed toward our meeting place. I resumed my thinking, letting my thoughts spill ungraciously into my brain. They had been pressing at my mind ever since dinner, when I saw him picking at his food half-heartedly.

He should know. I've accepted him. Why is he being so bloody irrational? It's been more than a year and a half since I discovered his secret. Ever since, I've waited for him to come back from the hospital wing on "moon nights," as he refers to them, worried sick.

Wait. Is that why he wants to end it? He doesn't want me to worry?

I did enough

To show you that I

Was willing to give and sacrifice

And I was the one who was lifting you up

When you thought your life had had enough

He doesn't want me to worry about him being hurt? He doesn't want me to worry about his injuries? What was it? Wasn't me loving him good enough?

Yesterday he had come back from the hospital wing, tired and meek. I had held him, and he had gotten up so suddenly that he almost fell down again from pain. So it had gotten to the point where he didn't want any contact at all.

And when I get close

You turn away

There's nothing that I can do or say

So now I need you

To tell me the truth

You know I'd do that for you

I froze, suddenly hearing light, almost noiseless footsteps and the swish of a robe. I drew my breath in sharply in potential fear of a teacher and flitted behind a nearby suit of armor.

Remus rounded the corner absently and slowly. His head was down and his hands were dejectedly in his pockets. As I whisked out of sight, my robes rustled slightly. With his unusually superb hearing, his head cocked up quickly. He stood still for a minute, listening for any more suspicious noises, before starting cautiously again.

I stepped back into view. I did not know why I hadn't stopped him to talk to him. But the tapestry was our meeting place. We couldn't just stop and talk in some open hallway.

I continued, slower than before, as I reached the staircase to the fifth floor. Remus would be waiting for me there.

So I had it narrowed down to two plausible choices. One, he was afraid of my revulsion and hate, or two, he didn't want me to worry. Either way, they were pretty shitty excuses.

A fourth of the way up. I had to make him understand. I loved him and nothing would change that, as clichéd as it sounds.

Halfway. His lycanthropy was a curse, not a part of him. If it was placed upon him, surely it could be taken off. I had to find a cure. I would devote my whole life to finding a cure if I had to.

Five more steps to go. My mind was swirling with half-formed thoughts, hopes, regrets, and oddly enough, 'five steps to making your potion successful.'

I reached the top of the staircase. At the end of the hall, with the waning moonlight filtering through the dusty window was a single silhouette. Remus was at the floor in front of the German tapestry with his brow furrowed, lost in thought as I had been a few moments ago. Noticing it, I thought of how ironic the situation was. Our love was to be torn in front of such a wonderful fairy-tale-like mirage.

So why are you running away?

Why are you running away?

(What is it I have to say?)

"Hey." I said to him, feeling slightly light-headed, moments away from having my heart shattered.

He looked up, rendering his light eyes visible. "Hey."

So why are you running away?

(To make you admit you're afraid)

Why are you running away?

---