Losers Like Us

In Which Much Hits the Proverbial Fan (Remus Lupin 2)

Communication (included in chart Aug 14, 1996)

[Handwritten note by owl]

Just letting you know that we saw RL this morning at St M's. He's a changed man...well, you know what I mean. He's not changed into that. Not for another few weeks, at least. Anyway, you must be doing something right, Old Thing. Either that or he's in love. Betting pool now forming; do you want in on the wager?

Gus P.

PS. Bets now off on whether the mad house elf will slay you. It's been over 90 days, after all.

PPS. Well done, both counts.

PPPS. Thanks for the loan of the owl. Spiffy model; Yankee barn variety? Fixing your floo would be easier, y'know.

Session 10: Aug 14, 1996

Goals: Reduce depressive sxs[symptoms] aeb[as evidenced by] ind[ividual] will identify his remaining support group and practice telling them his feelings. Ind will create and work on schedule of appro[priate] eating and sleeping habits.

Sxs: Some low mood, disturbed sleep patterns. Lycanthropy, controlled by strong medication/potion, resulting in periodic weakness, loss in physical strength. Currently unemployed, lives on small income.

Interventions & Response: Ind continues to present as upbeat, cheerful, appears more rested. Th[erapist] attempted to disc [discuss] idea of reducing ind from current 2 sessions per week to one session per week, due to ind's improved presentation. Ind avoided disc[ussion] initially, tried to redirect disc to th's still-blocked chimney, offered to again unblock chimney, talk to house elf re: chimney blocking habits, make tea, etc. Th gently observed that ind seemed unwilling to reduce sessions. Th reviewed w/ ind progress of previous sessions, notes that ind is now again connected w/ support grp[group] and seems to be eating and sleeping in relatively normal ways, considering his monthly disruption of schedule by lycanthropic manifestations. Th praised ind for hard work in therapy, unusually rapid progress. Th praised ind for developing other roles for himself beyond "Siruis' buddy" and "Harry's next dad." Th wondered if therapy not intruding on ind's personal time too much. Ind avoided eye contact during disc, responded in low tone. Th observed that ind did not seem to want to discuss reduction of sessions. Ind explained that he "is deeply in love w/ th." Th attempted to process w/ ind idea that many ppl [people] fall in love w/[with] th's, that therapy promotes idea of th being perfect, completely understanding human, does not allow th to show true self, flaws, etc. as clearly as IRL [in real life]. Th explained that th. cannot ethically return feelings, ds not "love" ind "in romantic sense". Th observed that ind feels this way towards th simply bec th has supported his being able to describe his life w/ chronic illness, etc. No success. Sessions remain at 2x per week.

Plan: Help ind to reduce depressive sxs as possible. Work w/ ind to restore appro therapeutic relationship. Consult as needed re: ind's current belief that he is "in love" w/ th.

Personal Journal, Aug 14, 1996

[String of expletives and obscenities deleted].

Communication (included in chart Aug 15, 1996)

[Owl to ind]

Have donated flowers to St M's wards. Personal gifts of this nature are not acceptable between therapist and patient.

GDW

Communication (included in chart Aug 15, 1996)

[Owl to Augustus Pye, Trainee Healer, St. Mungo's]

Need consultation desperately w/ expert. Failing that, can you come here to talk? Will provide unlimited butterbeers and/or drinkable of your intoxicated choice.

Desperately,

Gemma W.

Communication (included in chart Aug 15, 1996)

[Handwritten note by owl]

Apparating over at 8 PM tonight. See you at your front door.

Gus P.

PS. I won the betting pool on this one! Thanks!

PPS. I'll buy the beers. I owe you. BIG betting pool on this one.

Consultation Progress Note: Aug 15, 1996

Present: GD Walker, Ph.D.; Augustus Pye, Trainee Healer, St Mungo's.

Reason for Meeting: Discuss ind's report at prev[ious] session that he is romantically "in love" w/ th. Form appro plan for continuing therapy, as possible.

Discussion: Dr W described ind's presentation, declarations at prev session. Healers reviewed appro plans, inclu[ding] further processing of role of therapy w. ind. in next sessions, potential for termination of therapy, signals that termination will be necessary, abandonment issues possible for ind.

Plan: Dr W will continue to work w/ ind, assessing to see if ind able to continue treatment, tolerate idea that th cannot return feelings of romantic love. If ind unable to tolerate situation, therapy will terminate.

Personal Journal, Aug 16, 1996

I should have seen this coming. Every bloody male I have ever treated has fallen for me at some stage of the therapy. It's perfectly natural. Even the married ones in Couples' Therapy consider falling for me; I can see it in their eyes when the sessions with Wifey get ugly, as they invariably do, at some point. Spit, even the lesbians fall for me, sooner or later, when we do couples work. Why didn't I realize that Remus would be bound to?

They see you as this sort of All-Mother, listening to their needs and sins, forgiving, loving, nurturing. Who wouldn't love me, if that's all they were seeing of me?

As we sit in my back yard, butterbeers in hand, I pour all this out to Gus Pye, along with the complete case history and therapy history, while the long Scottish evening meanders on around us, gloriously warm and bright. Oddly enough, Fearless is quietly cooperative, as she has been since I railed at her last month about how Remus makes better tea than she does. That weirds me out too.

Gus is so silent that, after a while, I wonder if he is distracted about some case of his own. I jump when he finally says into the quiet gloaming, "Think what you must mean to that poor man." Turning his bright eyes onto me, Gus continues blandly, "You have to be the first person to really let him talk about the lycanthropy. Think what that must be like for him, after...how many years?" When he sees my mouth opening to deny this, Gus simply cuts me off: "Yes, he had friends to help him manage it back at Hogwarts. Yes, they committed acts of great loyalty to support him."

"But, Gemma, they were teenagers. They had schoolwork, transfiguration schemes, and moonlight plans to discuss. Remus' buddies were not skilled listeners or therapists, although, yes, they did give him a healthy sort of their own therapy, I admit. But they were teenagers--chasing girls, talking about graduation and careers that poor Lupin must have known he could never be part of. How could he talk about his situation among them? How could he talk about never being able to have his own children, lest they be cursed? How could he consider taking a wife or lover, when the lycanthropy potion hadn't even been invented yet? And when it was, did that really give Remus those options back? Or did he have to fear that he'd forget or somehow miss some month, and then slay his own loved ones? And I'm not even talking about the risks on any job he might take. What employer would accept him? What career future did he have?"

Sick at heart for Lupin, I interject, "Sirius and James were the tight buddies in that quartet. Either Remus isolated himself because of what you say, or it happened precisely because he did try to tell them about his world, and they couldn't handle it and distanced him. He never got close to Pettigrew the way James and Sirius were close to each other. He always says that. He calls himself and Peter 'the hangers-on.'"

"So," Gus goes on, "you come along. Right when the last of that group is gone for him. James and Sirius murdered, Peter turned to You-Know-Who's service and helping with schemes to kill young Harry. Sirius killed right in front of Remus and Harry; Remus unable to reach Harry in their mutual griefs, based on what you've told me so far." I nod.

"Poor sod," murmurs Gus. "Poor bloody sod. Consumed by loss and grief. And then he finds a female therapist, about his own age, and she helps him. She listens to it all, and she has a chimney to unblock and an house elf to tame... She wants to hear all about it. Everything. And he can be her knight in shining armor and fix everything up for her. Oh, gods."

During this speech, I down every last drop of my butterbeer, and I finally arrive at some understanding of why Fearless got addicted to the stuff. Right now, I'd like to drown myself in a vat of it. "Look, Gus," I say with what firmness I can still muster, "That's therapy. I have to do exactly what I did with him. The man was in a depressive episode; he was a suicide risk when I met him. What, would you rather we left him where he was back then and had nobody talk to him? What were our choices, since I am the only practicing, licensed [hic], trained shrink this Magical World seems to have? I mean, you all had bottomed out with Lupin down at Mungo's; you had admitted defeat when you sent him to me."

"This is therapy, Gus, [hic hic hic], at least as Muggles practice it. And plenty of male patients, and even some female ones, have fallen for me before. We just work through it in session."

"Then what am I doing here this evening?" Gus asks in a soft voice I never knew he possessed.

"Consulting with me. Translation: helping me talk through my side of this and arrive at clear boundaries. [hic] How do I know if and when to stop therapy? [hic] How do I know if Remus can tolerate my inability to return his feelings? [hic]"

In the dimming light, Gus' bright eyes positively glow out from his pale face. He asks, "What if you do return his feelings?"

Inside me, where the therapist lives and thrives, something clicks into its proper place at last. My relieved smile is unforced. "I don't. I can't."

And it is the plain truth, clean and simple. And it is also the end of the fear that accompanies this situation, every time, for every therapist. I feel redeemed. I have not failed my trust. Gus knows, and his smile back at me is the dazzling joy of a thousand, glorious, Scottish, late-summer sunsets.

"Thanks, Gus. I owe you."

"Naow," he says, rising to stretch his endlessly lanky frame towards the heavens. A few early stars wink back down at him. "One Healer to another, Gemms." Then: "Tell you what--I'll take it out of you next fizzbin night, down at the dorms."

"Shark," I say affectionately. "Why don't you just write out how much you plan to fleece me for? I mean, after you get me loaded on that firewhiskey brew of your roommate's and into a card game? I can save us both time and just hand you the galleons right now."

Gus roars his appreciation of this, as we amble into my kitchen to scrounge sandwiches. Smutch, my new barn owl, loudly rustles at us from his perch there, hoping we will feed him some treats. "That is the fattest owl I have ever seen," Gus opines amiably, while Smutch stretches his neck forward in that impossibly long stretch that owls somehow can do and hopes visibly that my companion will be as soft a touch as his new mistress.

By the end of the evening, Smutch is even fatter, Gus has told me every fizzbin anecdote he can remember from his time at St. Mungo's (and they curiously ALL include incredible plays and wins he has pulled off), and I have what I need to continue with Remus Lupin in therapy.

Communication (included in chart Aug 17, 1996)

[Handwritten note by owl]

Am I still allowed to come to session this afternoon?

RL

Communication (included in chart Aug 17, 1996)

[Owl to ind]

See you at 4, as usual. We are going to have to face this one. I am not able to change my mind, nor do I want to. Your therapy is most important thing. Brace ourselves for reality.

GDW

Session 17: Sept 1, 1996

Goals: Continue to work through ind's feelings for th, help ind to appro'ly use support group to cope w/ loss.

Sxs: Some low mood, disturbed sleep patterns. Lycanthropy, controlled by strong medication/potion, resulting in periodic weakness, loss in physical strength. Currently unemployed, lives on small income.

Interventions & Response: Ind continues to present as upbeat, cheerful, appears more rested. Th expressed surprise, as night of full moon this evening. Ind expressed confidence, stated that he has "surprise" for th re: full moon, would give no further details, was anxious to know th's schedule for this evening. Th refused to give info, expressed concern that this was inappro info for patient to ask of th, as it impinges on th's private life. Ind continued to express confidence, said "it doesn't matter. I can find you when I need to." Ind continues in denial re: th's ethical and personal inability to return his romantic feelings. Th continued to repeat reasons why she cannot return ind's feelings, dangers to therapy if ind continues to demand return of his feelings. Ind cheerfully agreed. Ind continues to express concern that th's chimney unable to remain unblocked, despite ind's best magical efforts after unblocking it weekly, after session. Th, ind briefly disc'd return of students, w/ ind expressing confidence that mutual student friend of th, ind "coping fairly well" w/ loss of his godfather, ind's friend.

Plan: Help ind to reduce depressive sxs as possible. Work w/ ind to restore appro therapeutic relationship. Consult as needed re: ind's current belief that he is "in love" w/ th.

Personal Journal, Sept 1, 1996

So the Hogwarts kids are back. Really, you can feel it in the air, even here in Hogsmeade. Once evening arrives and the train pulls in, a wild energy seems to crackle out from every corner of the village, as if the very streets themselves are crying out in anticipation. Soon our little town will ring with the frenzied cries of kids needing their supernatural sugar fixes from Honeyduke's.

Gods, I wish Harry would drop by. Even for a few minutes, just so I can see him, offer him help... I am still getting over the night that Malfoy last visited. But I know that Remus and his pack of buddies, whom I strongly suspect of having larger political concerns, now that Voldy is afoot, are protecting Harry as best they can, even down to openly providing emotional support for him. It's good therapy for my patient, so that's a double bonus, and I am happy for them both. Remus needs to be needed.

I do wonder about his pack of cronies, though. When he mentions them, my open, expressive Remus Lupin becomes suddenly secretive, hesitates to name them, hems and haws and looks about the room. Okay, I ask no questions. But I'd be an idiot not to suspect that Albus is involved with them too, as there are some pretty heavy hitters in the group, and that they are moving, in some way, in the current war that is forming up.

For my part, I have been left out, and I have no regrets. Whether this is because they do not trust me, because I am just not a good enough witch, or because I have so little experience of this world of theirs (ours, I suppose), I do not know and I do not care. Healers have enough to do.

So session with Remus was pretty much the same as it has been since he admitted that he is in love with me. It's not like I don't sometimes wish that I could return the feelings (and I talk with Gus asap when this feeling comes over me). But I am not going to, and that's that. His therapy is too important, especially now that the war is on in earnest. He's going to need a shrink, not a girlfriend. Things will get ugly now.

Lupin knows this as well as I do, but he gamely tries to pursue me. Unhappily, this means I am really thinking that therapy may have to end, for now, at least. If he won't give up, I cannot ethically allow him to continue to see me, as I cannot foster hope in a relationship that I cannot have, and that could damage him and render him unable to seek future help from any other therapist.

And still, he insists. I know I am doing the right thing, but this makes me feel like such a loser, such a rotten therapist. First Hagrid, now Remus. Sheesh.

One more note, though: Remus now has heard somehow about my last run-in with Draco Malfoy. Apparently, some distorted version of that entire history is now in circulation. This may have occurred when Malfoy, Senior, was arrested last spring. All Malfoy-related gossip must have been big up at the school because of that.

Anyway, Remus is very worried that Draco is back, angry, and armed. Much of today's session was devoted, alas, to his warning me to watch my step, now that the kid is back in the area. Yeah, sure. Malfoy--Junior or Senior--must have so many enemies by now, so many people on his dirty little hit list, that I cannot see myself as seriously endangered.

Personal Journal, Sept 2, 1996 (excerpt)

So I am on my 23^rd cup of tea. People are making too big a deal of this. Really, I am all right, even if a wee bit shaken. I guess I should have seen all this coming. Really, I can be such a blind fool.

Why didn't I catch on when Remus told me he had a surprise for me on the night of a full moon? When he wanted to know where he could find me last night? Blooming hell, I knew he'd be on his potion, wolfen, sleeping it off somewhere or other. What on earth was I thinking? Or why was I not thinking? How stupid can I be????

Order, order, I must make order of it all, that's the best therapy for me right now. Damnitude. I can hardly think, even though I know Fearless is no longer letting me drink caffeinated tea. I wonder if Poppy gave her something for me?

Cup 24. I was sitting out in the garden last night, waiting to watch the moonrise, as it was early last evening, and I felt like I could sneak in one last peaceful night before the students make life around here jittery again, sneaking down and slouching around the village, as if we all don't notice them breaking the school's rules...although I will miss the Weasley twins, who could send me into hysterics with therapist jokes tossed blithely over my hedges as they sauntered by.

Anyway, I was out there, knitting placidly, thinking about my newest caseload of kids that Albus had sent down that afternoon. Of course, the list came with his usual request to check them out, see whom I might want to help, give him a suggested schedule, etc. Just about the time I noticed that Draco Malfoy's name headed the list, who should come strolling up to my gate but Remus Lupin, empty, upended goblet in his hand.

Immediately, I knew what he had in mind. Rising, I had one hand out, in supplication or denial, and my mouth open, but it was already too late. Crying, "I've come to prove to you how safe I really am," he shook the empty potion goblet towards me, showing me that he had already partaken.

"You can't be serious!" I screamed.

Brightly, he chirped back, "Yes, I know! I can't be Sirius! Or James! Or anyone but ME! That's what you've taught me! Now I'm going to teach you that you CAN be safe with a werewolf! Then you can love me!"

Right on cue, the moon lifted over the trees.

Cups 25, 26, and 27. If you've never seen a man transform into a werewolf, don't. Okay? Just avoid it at all costs. I can hardly type this, so awful is that memory. Lupin wasn't kidding when he said it always hurts and you never get used to it. There I stood, and there he crouched, fell, rolled, writhed, and screamed. No neighbors came, so the house must have muffled the sounds, but Fearless was there in a shot, speechless for once, presumably with horror, hovering on the back doorstep.

I can't describe it. I wish I had not seen it. It looked excruciating. And this is with the potion that calms him?

When it was over, a large wolf-thing rose to stand in a half-crouch before me. Truly, I was paralyzed, beyond fear, beyond thought, beyond flight. It studied me, and I studied it, unable to do more.

As a wolf, Remus is not quite a wolf, but certainly not a man. Shaggy, tall, able to stand somewhat upright, plainly built to be more comfortable on all fours, long brushy tail, but still recognizably human somehow. Transfixed, I gazed into the bright eyes, and I saw that Remus, my Remus, my friend and patient (even if I should not admit that I consider him a friend), was looking back at me. His stare was filled with confusion and suspicion and something else.

"Down, d-d-doggy," I whispered, pointing at the ground. "Nn-n-nice doggy." The werewolf stared back at me, perplexed. Trembling, I pointed again at the ground between us. Slowly, thoughtfully, Werewolf Lupin sank to his haunches on the ground there, still looking up at me. And the something else in those eyes was hope. He loves me, I realized with a thrill of relief. He can carry strong affect into his lupine state. And he loves me.

"Fearless," I squeaked, in a voice two octaves higher than my own, "Take the night off. I'm...er...going to get the nice doggy a bone or something. Go do whatever you do when you're not minding the house, okay?"

In a jam, I am impressed to discover, Fearless remains herself, once the first shock is over. "Not on my clean floors!" the house elf shrilled. "Dog hair EVERYWHERE! Not in Mistress' house! Fearless stays right here!"

The sheer insanity of this made me giggle aloud stupidly(Cup 28), but it made me functional once more. Did she just call me 'Mistress'? Did she just call herself 'Fearless'? But I don't have time for these thoughts now.

"Okay," I declare, still with my eyes fixed on the beast in front of me. "Then get the leftovers from Sunday's roast and throw them out to me. We'll do better if he's not hungry. And get a big blanket; the ground might not be comfortable for him."

In the end, Fearless lost. Well, sort of. Coaxed to follow the nice wolfy-treat, Lupin wound up on an old carpet scrap, curled up under my study's huge old desk, gnawing the last of the beef bone that my house elf had been saving for stew. The scrap of rug would clean easily enough, I promised not to let the wolf-man out of my study until he was human again, and Fearless mounted guard at my study's door. I went to see if I could roust out the village's butcher and get a larger bone from some unlucky steer to keep Lupin busy for the rest of the night. Maybe I should have let Fearless get the bone, I don't know. But she had more faith in her own magic to protect us, I remembered that the potion would keep Remus tranquil all night long, and I needed the air, to give myself time to think.

Cup 29. On my way out, I turned on the kettle for tea, thinking a nice cuppa would help me stay calm, while I spent the night staring at my shaggy guest and trying to figure out what to say to him in the morning.

I remember thinking, as I closed the front door behind me, Why on earth can't there be were-parrots or were-goldfish or something? Why must they turn into wolves?

Naturally, lost in deep musings of this high caliber, I did not even see Draco Malfoy until the little skunk was right on top of me, wand drawn.