Rating:
PG-13
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Harry Potter
Genres:
Angst
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Prizoner of Azkaban Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 10/30/2005
Updated: 10/30/2005
Words: 771
Chapters: 1
Hits: 107

Lost

magicgalkairi

Story Summary:
Companion to Slash. Harry visits his old professor and begins to help him come to terms with his grief. NOT HP/RL.

Posted:
10/30/2005
Hits:
107
Author's Note:
This fic is fairly short. Oh well.

Lost

(Companion to Slash)

Harry stared at his former professor in disbelief. Even on the day after the full moon, he had never looked like this. Bloodshot eyes, clothing so dirty it was unsalvageable, hair long and snarled, arms and legs covered with deep wounds. In short, Remus Lupin looked worse than shit.

Worse yet, he'd been drinking. Harry suddenly felt awfully, horribly guilty. He had thought that he had been upset at Sirius' death. He had just come face to face with the reality that he had in fact been acting like a horrible, spoiled brat. Lupin had obviously needed someone with him, but Harry had been too caught up in his grief, and yes, self-pity, to be bothered with things like other people.

"Professor?" he asked reluctantly, nervously. Lupin raised pain-blurred eyes to meet his bottle-green ones, and Harry almost cried in pity at the look held therein. An awful, lost and lonely desperation. With an almost painful shock, he realized just where most of those wounds must have come from, as they were far too fresh to be from the full moon.

Remus Lupin was cutting himself.

No wonder Dumbledore had sent him here to finish up the rest of the summer. Lupin was too valuable to lose at this stage in the war. And that made him irrationally angry. Here was one of his father's best friends, his godfather's soulmate, and no matter what sort of pain he was in, Lupin could not be allowed to destroy himself for the sake of the war. At this point, standing in front of the broken wreck of his former teacher, Harry would rather have taken on all of the duties Lupin was forced to do, even if it meant becoming a werewolf himself. Of course, that could never be done either. Oh no, he was the boy-who-lived, and he was destined to defeat Voldemort. No need to endanger him before then. Now righteously angry, he put an arm around the werewolf's shoulders and led him inside.

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Ellie watched curiously as a young boy helped the current master of the house sit down on the old, tattered couch. Well, technically her name was Princess Eleanor Violet Rose Belgimine Geneva Wottlesworth, but who went by technicalities when you were a painting, anyway? No, what mattered was that the broken man was finally letting someone in. Within minutes of the boy's arrival, the werewolf had broken down in tears as the young boy tried to comfort him. Ellie smiled in satisfaction; she had developed something of a crush on Remus Lupin over the year, and it had been rather distressing to see him in such sad shape. She had always heard that werewolves mated for life, and had no cause to disbelieve it after she saw what had happened when Remus had lost his mate. Pathetic, lost, broken. That's what he had become in only a few days following Sirius' death. Ellie smiled, a little sadly, a little gladly, when Remus fell asleep, a restful sleep, for the first time in months. Finally, he was finding his way.

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Harry's mind reeled with the overflow of new information that had just been poured into his head. Why had no one ever told him that werewolves mated for life? Why had he never bothered to read the signs that were there in front of him? For that matter, why hadn't Sirius told him? He could understand the fear that Harry would reject him, in this prejudiced day and age, but really! Did he honestly believe that Harry would let that get in the way?

And now Lupin was asleep, having poured out the tumultuous emotions inside. His father had been part of Remus' pack; as his son, Harry was like family to both the human and the wolf, and probably the only person who would have been able to reach him. He wondered if Dumbledore had known that, and felt the familiar flash of anger towards him. In that, at least, he and Lupin were agreed. To some degree, Sirius' death was partly Dumbledore's fault. He wondered if he would ever be able to fully let go of that resentment, and thought he probably wouldn't.

He looked up to see a painting of a beautiful young girl looking down at him and Lupin. She was wearing the strangest little half-smile, as if somehow she was hurting and happy at the same time. She nodded slightly when his eyes met hers, as if she knew as well. Though Lupin still had a long, painful way to go, he was no longer lost.

FIN




Author notes: *singsong* I am a loser, a loser I am. *end singsong* No, really. I just couldn’t leave Lupin like he was, so I wrote this little piece. Can stand alone, but is really much better when read with the other one, Slash. Of course, this is the end of this particular little set, as I’m really in a much better mood. Besides, where would I go with it? Ack! No more plot bunnies, I have to get off the computer! *whacks head with frying pan*
Ouch…
Have a very herry easterween!
Just kidding!