Taming the Monster Within

Chapter 3 ~ Tough Love

Harry rolled over in his bed, his vision fuzzy until he put on his glasses. He looked at his watch and almost fell out of bed, it was already eleven-thirty. Harry threw on some clothes and staggered down the stairs. As he walked through the drawing room, which had been redone since the last time he was there, an unusual scent hovered around him.

"Morning, Scruffy."

Harry whipped around to find Séraphine lying on the sofa. By the looks of it she was in the middle of painting her fingernails, resulting in the unpleasant odor.

"Why didn't someone wake me up?" Harry asked grumpily as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair.

"Because you needed -- your rest," Séraphine said yawning.

"You should talk," Harry said sarcastically after finally getting a good look at her. She had dark circleunder her eyes and looked absolutely frail.

"Just what is that suppose to mean?" she demanded feebly.

"You look awful." It was a good two seconds before he realized what he had said. "No, I didn't... What I meant to say was--"

"No, you're right, I do look awful," she said as she made a face. "I didn't finish the bike till nine, next I remembered I still had to brush down the horses, and then inspiration struck and I was up half the night with my trusty acoustic writing yet another song."

"You didn't have to finish it by yourself, it could have waited," said Harry feeling bad Séraphine spent so much time fixing his motorbike.

"Oh, that's all right," she said good-naturedly, "I would have had to do it by myself anyway, now wouldn't I?" She grinned at him. "It's all good. I got it all shined up and it's got a fresh coat of paint on it," she said as she blew on her nails. Séraphine giggled, "That's funny," analyzing her shiny black nails, "same color too."

Just then Ginny and Rèmy walked covertly in the room.

"What are you two doing?" Rèmy asked after looking around the room.

"Hiding out," Séraphine said in a hushed voice.

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"Ron and Hermione, they have been going at it all morning," Ginny said rolling her eyes.

"Why?"

"Who knows," Rèmy said pushing his unconfined blonde hair out of his face.

"I don't even think they do," said Ginny casting a grim smile.

"I think it had something to do with that letter she got," Séraphine said rolling on to her back and closing her eyes, still being careful not to disturb her half-dried nails.

"What letter?" said Ginny.

"Didn't you know?" she pried her eyes open with much effort to look at them. "Well if she didn't tell you about it then it probably wasn't a big deal."

"Séraphine, what do you think you're doing?" Rèmy asked his sister.

"Drying my nails," she said happily as she touched the polish lightly to make sure they were dry.

"That's not what I meant, but why black?"

"It matches my soul," she said dryly and smiling slightly.

"Séraphine," said Rèmy, putting his head in his hands.

"What? I had to use a dark color to cover up the grease underneath my nails," she said exasperated.

"You should be home in bed, you look--" Rèmy started.

"Awful?" Séraphine finished, looking over at Harry.

"No, your mood is what's awful. What I was going to say was you look worn-out," Rèmy said casually.

"Well, I can't go to sleep anyway so resting wouldn't do me any good."

"How come you can't sleep" Rèmy asked concerned.

"I've been feeling really restless lately. Just some dream. I don't want to talk about it," she said, just as Ron came stomping into the room.

He cast an angry look at Séraphine and Ginny and said in a low irritated voice, "Why must you women be so complicated?"

"DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME RONALD WEAS--" Hermione burst into the room and blushed when she saw everyone. "Oh, hello."

"Can we go now?" Ginny asked.

"We?" Harry said thinking that all of them wouldn't be able to fit into Rèmy's car.

"Oh yeah!" said Séraphine jumping up looking crazed, "I've been meaning to tell you. Rèmy banned me from his car; he put a jinx on it to make sure too. Isn't that nice? I don't really care, though," she folded her arms, "Stupid thing is a damn Ford."

Rèmy chuckled, for he knew she did in fact care.

"Oh, don't you even start with me!" Séraphine may have looked weak from loss of sleep, but she was looking pretty dangerous.

"So did you Apparate?" Harry asked drawing her away from her brother.

"No, I hate Apparating," she said cringing at the very subject, "I drove my motorcycle," she said still huffing.

* * * * * *

Rèmy and Séraphine were different in so many ways; it was amazing that they were twins or related for that matter. Even the way they drove was different.

On top of the fact Séraphine drove too fast, played the music too loud and whipped around every corner, she also swore like a sailor, made everyone around her laugh and never paid attention to the road. Then Rèmy, who came to a complete halt at every stop sign, kept the volume down and the convertible's top up. The only thing they seemed to have in common was their involuntary good looks and shaggy blonde hair.

"How come you fight with your sister, Rèmy?" Ginny asked, breaking the silence.

"All siblings fight don't they? It doesn't necessarily mean they hate each other. Actually I love her, but only because I have to," Rèmy added quickly. "Some days it's like she can't be helped, she's just plain thoughtless and immature. Then there is times you just feel like she only messes up because you are counting on her, but she always seems to pull through in the end, when you're really, really depending on her."

"Interesting," Ginny said in fake astonishment, "so it would be truthful to say you two fight because you care about each other."

&ldquohy, yes, I think you could say that, Ginny," said Rèmy in a mocking voice as he glanced at Ron and Hermione sitting on either side of Harry.

Harry thought about it for a while, as they arrived at the ranch house and got out of the car, it kind of made sense. Ron and Hermione probably only fight so much because their friendship is so strong. Though, he's been friends with Ron and Hermione just as long, yet neither of them fought nearly as much with him as they did with each other.

This is crazy, he thought, I can't seriously be jealous that they aren't including me in their nonsense squabbles.

* * * * * *

"Séraphine is already here, probably waiting for you in the shed," said Rèmy.

"Do you want us to come with you?" asked Hermione.

"What, so you can watch me make a fool out of myself?" Harry laughed. "I'm actually driving today! Maybe a little bit later, once I've gotten the hang of it."

Harry walked up to the familiar shed, and heard Séraphine from the doorway; it was quithe sight. She was singing to the blaring music and shining up Sirius's bike with an old rag, but since she had the volume up so high she didn't hear him come in.

...Go on and take it off
Shake it off baby, for me
C'mon and break me off
'Cause I get what I want and I like what I see

She cavorted around the motorbike, wiping away the non-existent smudges, making a fool out of herself in the process. Harry felt no reason to stop her, especially since she was in the middle of a 'guitar solo'.

Forget the application
You're the right guy for the task
Let me take you on vacation
Just do it, you don't have to ask!

Go on and take it off
Shake it off baby, for me
C'mon and break me off
'Cause I get what I want and I like what I see
Take it off
Take it off baby, for me
Take it...

She turned around in the middle of it all and turned a shade of vermilion that would have put even Ron to shame.

"You sing well," he said, laughing heartily. She went to turn off the blaring music but instead she knocked over a can of bolts that scattered over the floor. She put them back quickly with a few swishes of her wand and busied herself with the bike.

"Wow, you did a really good job," he said getting a better look at the Ducati. The bike was gleaming in a fresh coat of black paint.

"I wanted to put everything back the way it was, but I saw something when I was removing the paint that I didn't quite understand. Can you tell me what that's supposed to mean?" Séraphine showed him a small patch of white paint that wouldn't have been seen if she hadn't pointed it ut. It was a painted paw print that belonged to a dog, a big dog by the looks of it.

"His nickname was Padfoot, my godfather, he was a dog Animagus," he said coolly, he didn't mean to, his throat became tight and his tone became cold and detached.

"I can't even begin to imagine how you're feeling," she said to him.

"You must have some idea. I mean, your father died, didn't he?" Harry said back.

"Oh yeah, well I meant to say was I ...You lost...Err..." she leaned foreword over the bike letting her shaggy hair hide her face, "I'm sorry," she said her voice muffled.

"I don't want your sympathy," Harry said coldly once more, but this time he meant for it to be. He was tired of people saying they were sorry for him or that the pain would lessen over time. He didn't want to feel better; he wanted to feel worse. It was his fault Sirius was...Harry couldn't even bring himself to think about the word, a part of him still believed he was still alive just extremely late.

"That's a relief, because I'm really bad at it," she said humorously still shielded by her long mane.

"Are you scared of dying?" Harry didn't know what compelled him to ask her. Maybe it was that she had lost a parent too, like Luna, he felt like he could talk to her.

She looked up at him, pushing her hair away from her face, her expression was worried, "I don't know. I mean isn't everyone? Aren't you?"

He looked at her; the question didn't seem to worry or faze him like it did her. Harry met her cobalt gaze with his emerald, "No," he said honestly.

"No?"

"I'm not scared of dying. I have a lot of friends and family already dead, it's not like I'll be lonely, now will I?" he said with grim humor.

"I'm sure they don't want to see you dead," she said scared that what she had been suspecting for a while was true. She wondered if he was honestly considering it.

"Well it's not really my choice now is it?" he said a little irritated.

Harry had gone up against one of the most powerful sorcerers five times and lived, but even he was afraid of his own death. Not of dying, no, that didn't scare him. He would die eventually, no matter what; he felt no reason to fear what was predetermined. What he did worry about was what might happen to his friends, family, and everyone else if Voldermort did succeeded in what the prophecy said only last June; the other option wasn't much better though. He would either be killed by Voldermort, or be the one to defeat him. To some this may be a road to fame or even fortune, but he was already famous and had plenty of money in his vault, to tell the truth neither suited him. He, Harry, was not a murder, but Voldermort was.

"No, I guess not." She chewed her thumb, an old habit she despised, and said, "It's not the thing I'm most scared of, but maybe it's good we are scared by it. I mean so that we don't do something stupid, you know like take too many risks," she ran her fingers through her ratty hair and spoke again. "Rèmy says that about me, that I go too fast. I'm not trying to be cool or prove anything, and it's not because I'm not scared because I am. I go so fast I scare myself, but I'll never slow down." She sank down to the floor resting her chin on her fist. "I'll always drive too fast, fly too fast, run too fast, and live too fast. Dying scares me, sure, but I'm more afraid that one day I'll go so fast that..." she paused her breathing became slightly staggered, she looked really tired, "that I'll miss out."