Nine Lessons Learned

Nine Lessons Learned

Hogwarts was a beautifully terrifying experience for me, that first day. A castle that seemed to come from the depths of a fairy tale rose up before me, my heart trembling feebly within my chest. The water of the deepest tarn I had ever seen lapped gently against the sides of our boats, the wind whipping playfully in my ears.

I had never thought that that day would come, when I would finally lay eyes on the beauty that was Hogwarts, that was knowledge, that was hope, that was my deepest, fearful dream.

You were, amazingly enough, in the same boat as I was, complaining like the spoiled little brat that you were, are, and probably always will remain. Your robes were getting wet and your bum was sore from so much sitting and you were dreadfully hungry, and where were the bloody house elves?

I remember flushing with embarrassment that anybody could be so foolish.

We were at Hogwarts, the culmination of all of my hopes and dreams save one, and you were scowling petulantly as if the whole operation was extremely inconvenient. I wanted to tell you to shut up, but I didn't dare presume to do so. You were entitled to be here, even if you didn't appreciate your gift. Dumbledore had graciously allowed me to be here, even against the stern advice of the people who noticed such things at the Ministry. I was lucky to even be looking at this castle. I knew I couldn't pretend to be a normal student who deserved equal respect or friendship or any such thing.

As we wandered, gaping, into the Entrance Hall, I felt as if my heart would burst from my chest with anticipation. Behind me I heard another boy tell you to shut up and stop whining. I grinned. So started your friendship with James.

The ghosts amazed me as they whizzed by, and the portraits astounded me with their exquisite genius. The Sorting Hat terrified me, and Dumbledore... Well, my awe for that man couldn't be paid in all the glittering gems of the stars.

After the Sorting Hat had rather firmly told me that I was a very brave young man and had nothing to be ashamed of, I took my seat across from you, noticing your rather disbelieving expression. I failed to notice your relatives whispering and glaring at you, though I heard much about that later.

"You're a Gryffindor?" you asked me in disdain. "Are you sure the Hat didn't make a mistake?"

"Like it did with you, Black?" James asked gleefully from beside you. "Shouldn't you be taking your place with your cousins?"

I stared down at my lap, trying not to succumb to the shame and despair that was filling me, not even noticing you hissing with rage. I was there to learn, not to get snotty brats to like me. I didn't need other people. Only myself.

"Well, are you a Mudblood then?" I looked up at that, not even realizing that the conversation had once more come around to me.

James didn't even say anything, simply slugged you right in the nose. You collapsed to the ground, bleeding profusely, staring up at your new friend in shock. James glared fiercely down at you. Somehow, in all of the excitement, nobody seemed to notice the disturbance.

"Never say that word again in my presence," James told you coldly, before turning to me with a hand extended. "Sorry about that. My name's James Potter."

"Remus Lupin," I said quietly, hesitantly shaking your hand. "And I'm a half-blood."

"Pureblood, myself," James said, not at all haughtily. "But that doesn't really matter. We just have to teach that to Black here." Then he gave you a hand up, you glaring at him all the way, your hand pressed over your nose.

"Here," I said softly, pulling out my wand. You took an involuntary step back and I stopped. "I'm not going to hurt you." I couldn't believe that you would think that I would actually presume to attack another student if I could help it, but then I remembered that nobody knew and nobody would know.

"What're you going to do?" you asked, your voice coming out slurred.

"Just fix your nose."

"But that's at least third year magic!" James exclaimed. I shrugged modestly.

"I was so excited about getting in that I've been studying ever since I got my letter."

"I thought you said you weren't Muggle-born?"

"I'm not." I knew that James was dying of curiosity, but he only gestured for me to continue, a quizzical expression on his face.

I quickly set your nose to rights again and watched in hesitant amusement as you wrinkled it and then twitched it back and forth, looking down at it cross-eyed. Then you crossed your arms and looked at me with grudging respect.

"What did you say your name was again?"

"Remus Lupin."

"Mine's Sirius Black."

And then you shook my hand, and taught me the meaning of graciousness.

* * * *

During the first week of school you and James were constantly brawling, but everybody knew that you would soon be inseparable. Already your good-natured camaraderie was beginning to form. Peter had begun to trail around you and you quickly let him into your circle, loving the attention he happily heaped upon you. Neither of you could ever deny that you loved the hero worship he so easily supplied you with.

As your other roommate you began to attempt to involve me in your friendship. I was hesitant, of course, and scared, and didn't believe that I was worthy of anybody's friendship, especially not from people as good as you.

But good-natured offers slowly began to turn to half-angry pestering and forceful demands. I began to take refuge in the library, hidden among the books of glorious knowledge that I had come here to obtain.

I was reading a rather engaging book on the histories of the ancient wizarding families of Britain when you found me, my face buried happily among its musty pages. At a soft rustle I glanced up, not even really paying attention to my surroundings until your face came into sharp focus. You were leaning against a bookcase maybe five feet away, watching me with an odd look on your face.

"Why don't you want to be our friends?" you asked suddenly, your voice free from any acrimony.

I looked down at my book, my cheeks becoming stained with my shame, wondering what I had done to offend you.

"I don't deserve friendship," I said softly, not daring to look up at you. "I've been graced with the opportunity to come here, to learn. That's all I need."

You gave a sharp cry and pulled the book from my hands, forcing me to look up at you. Your eyes were blazing with anger that I, wrongly, thought was directed at me.

"What's happened to you, Remus? What has your family done to you to make you think like this?"

"My family loves me!" I replied, my first angry retort since arriving in the school. I blazed with righteous anger that the family that had so sheltered me could be so easily insulted. "Even when they shouldn't have."

"Then what's happened to you? Surely you want more than just smelly old books. If you don't like us, then just say so."

"Oh no," I breathed. "I like you all very much. You're..." I gulped and swallowed tightly. "Amazing." You stared at me again. "Too good to be friends with me."

You grabbed hold of my wrists, pulling me towards you with a fierce light in your eyes. "We want to be friends with you, Remus Lupin, and that should be enough. You are in no way less worthy than we are and in no way not deserving of being our friend. I don't know what's happened to you or what's wrong with you." A shudder of fear ran through me. "But it doesn't matter. Now, do you want to be our friend, or not?"

I stared into your blazing grey eyes, my own wide with fear and surprise.

"You don't want to be my friend," I said firmly, surprising myself with how sure I sounded. "You'll regret it one day."

"Then let that day happen. Till then, I'll make sure that I don't regret a moment of it."

I knew then that you had made my decision for me. I let you pull me out of the library and off to where Peter and James were playing chess in the Common Room, filled with an elated euphoria and a hint of doubt that this could actually be real.

That day, you taught me what friendship was.

* * * *

I had told you that a day would come when you would regret being my friend, and December 12 of our third year was the day I decided that my prediction had come true.

The three of you were ranged before me. Peter was standing off to the side, looking nervous but determined. James was beside you, his face masked with concern. And you stood in the middle for once, a scowl setting your face in angry lines.

I sat upon my bed, looking up at the three of you towering over me, and felt, for the first time since we had become friends, afraid of you.

"We know, Remus. There's no use hiding it from is anymore," you said harshly.

I stuttered and stared down at my nervously twitching hands. "Know what? I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't have to lie anymore, Remus," James added softly. "We've figured it out."

"What have you figured out?" I looked up at you and our eyes locked, your frown deepening.

"You're a werewolf."

Fear and despair consumed me so utterly that I forgot to breathe. Air returned to my lungs in sputtering gasps, causing me to hyperventilate. My whole body began to shake terribly.

"Remus?" Peter asked nervously. "Are you all right?"

"All right?" I whispered, thinking about the last two and a half years and how much you had all changed me. About the friendship that had shaped my life and would now ruin it. "Nothing's all right." I didn't know when I'd moved, but I was suddenly sitting in a fetal position, my arms clutching my legs tightly to my body.

"Fine, go spread it around the school now. Go get me expelled. Go on, what are you waiting for? Why bother even warning me first? I should have known not to hope. Hogwarts is too good for the likes of me."

I didn't notice the looks on your faces, the bewildered, fearful glances you were exchanging.

"Remus?" you said softly, sitting beside me.

"Go on," I whimpered, feeling my tears begin to fall. "Leave me like everybody else has."

"We're not leaving, Remus," you told me. "And we're not going to tell anybody. We're your friends. I thought you knew that."

I looked up at you, my disbelief shinning clearly on my face. You smiled reassuringly at me as James and Peter came to sit on my other side.

"We're not going to abandon you, Remus," you added. "We've been trying to figure out what's wrong for ages and now that we know, we only want to help you."

"Help me?" I whispered, my voice faint with disbelief.

"Of course."

And that was the day you taught me what loyalty was.

* * * *

November of our sixth year, the day after the full moon, the day that I decided that maybe I should be the one regretting being your friend.

I lay in the Hospital Wing, watching the sun rise further and further into the sky, the deepest despair that I had ever known filling me. Snape was lying in a bed nearby, sedated by Madam Pomfrey before I had even arrived. The encounter with him that I knew was coming filled me with a distant fear.

I had almost committed murder the night before, almost killed a fellow student.

I was a monster.

And it was your fault. You had told him, told him so that the monster you knew was waiting for him could kill him. That monster was me, and you knew it and knew what I would do, what I couldn't help doing.

I had thought that you saw me as Remus, not as just a werewolf.

I now knew that I had thought wrong. I was a tool to you, nothing more. Your spoiled nature had never paused to think about the repercussions to your actions.

I had almost killed somebody, a student.

I was going to be expelled.

My life was ruined.

Crying alone in the Hospital Wing that morning, the sharp, metallic taste of betrayal filled my mouth, a new lesson that you had taught me.

* * * *

A month later I was sitting on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, numbly tracing circles in the dust. Prongs and Wormtail were waiting in the next room. I never allowed any of you to see me change. It was bad enough that you actually saw my lupine form; you didn't need to see my giving into it.

I hadn't spoken to you since the last full moon, despite your few, feeble efforts, and I believed that you wouldn't dare to bother me here, now.

I was wrong.

"Moony?" The soft whisper in the doorway caused me to jerk my head up to stare at you, eyes wide with anger and... yes, a little bit of hate.

"Don't you dare call me that, ever again," I spat at you, horrified that you could dare use that name after what you'd done to me, after what had almost happened. You flinched and looked away.

"Remus," you whispered again.

"Go away, Black. I don't want to talk to you, and it's not safe here."

"You're worried about my safety?" You sounded so childishly hopeful that I couldn't do anything but laugh, harshly, shortly.

"Not you in particular. But I don't wish to learn what human flesh tastes like tonight, so please do me the pleasure of leaving so I don't have to kill you."

"Please, Remus..." you pleaded.

"Go away!" I cried harshly, as I felt the moon begin to rise. "Now!"

But my hoarse scream was lost on you as you stepped forward in concern, watching in horror as I began to convulse on the floor. You'd never seen this before, what it did to me, how much pain I felt. I screamed and cried, my body painfully realigning itself.

Suddenly your arms were around me, holding me close as I writhed in your arms. You didn't let go, even as I tried to push you away, fearful that when I turned you would forget to become Padfoot, and I would kill you. Or worse, make you like me.

But you were having none of it. You held onto me, babbling soothing words that I couldn't hear, trying somehow, anyhow, to ease my pain. And for a moment, I was so worried about your safety that I forgot to feel it hurting.

"I'm so sorry, Remus," you whispered as the moon began to swallow my mind in a silver haze.

"I... am... the wolf," I gritted out.

"I know, I know, and I'll never forget it, I swear. I'll never hurt you again. I understand now, I swear. Oh please, Remus, please. Please let me stay. Please let me help you."

But I was a wolf, and I couldn't answer you. You quickly pulled away and became your black dog, hesitantly approaching me.

I growled and snapped at you. You cowered subserviently to me, the first time you had done so, rolling onto your back and displaying your belly in a lupine show of surrender. I stepped forward, my paws leaving clear prints in the dust and pushed you back to standing with my snout.

You stood and looked at me, your dark grey eyes meeting my yellow-amber ones.

And so I learned forgiveness.

* * * *

October 19 of our seventh year, I sat in the common room, reading a book on ancient Celtic Samhain spells. Peter and James were playing Exploding Snap (and from the sounds of it Peter was on an unusual winning streak). People were laughing and discussing the approaching holiday. Everybody seemed happy. Except you.

You were sitting on the sofa next to me, homework arrayed before you that I knew you hadn't looked at once yet. I didn't look up, but I could have sworn you were staring at me.

"What is it Sirius?" I sighed in exasperation, looking up into your penetrating stare.

"What does it feel like?" you replied, apropos of nothing.

"What does what feel like?"

"Not being in control of what you do or feel or want." You swallowed tightly at the look I was giving you. We had grown much closer since the incident last year, but there were still some things that we didn't discuss, didn't touch. My condition was something only whispered of before a romp, and only passed open fleetingly later on.

You looked away from the sheer openness of my startled face.

"You don't have to answer," you whispered. "I was just wondering."

"It feels like..." I trailed off, wondering how to answer this question, wondering if I could. "It feels like freedom from everything, from every responsibility and every fear, from every little thing that I should be concerned with. And that's terrifying." Your eyes had closed while I was talking, an odd dreamy expression falling over your face.

"Padfoot, what's wrong?" I asked. Your eyes opened suddenly, fear running quickly across your face. Then resolve just as quickly took its place.

"I need to talk to you Remus, in private."

Still confused, but very curious, I nodded my assent. "All right, but where?"

You thought about that for a moment, staring off into the distance. I got the impression that you were purposefully trying not to look at me.

"Here," you said. "I'll show you where."

Then you grabbed my hand and started to drag me off across the common room. Cheerful hoots followed us. Your cheeks burned but you didn't respond.

"Have fun, boys. And whatever you do, don't let Filch catch you," a rather annoying roommate of Evans' called out after us.

"Go screw yourself, Whitby," you called back to her angrily, slamming the portrait closed behind us, ignoring the Fat Lady's remonstrations.

"No idea how to treat a lady of my stature," she groused. "Oh, hello Remus. Well, you two boys have fun. And make sure you're back by curfew." At her knowing wink my cheeks went bright red.

My face burning, I allowed you to pull me down halls I was getting increasingly unfamiliar with, which was saying something, considering the fact that we had mapped out the whole school.

Suddenly you stopped before a tapestry of a majestic wolf, standing upon a mountaintop. You grinned happily and saluted the picture jauntily as if it were an old friend. The wolf gave you a canine grin and yipped playfully back. Then you turned to look at me, an odd look in your eyes.

"Remus, this is Moony. He's whom I got your name from. He looks extraordinarily like you, when you're a wolf."

I stared at you in amazement, not knowing what to think about this. You blushed and looked away, moving the tapestry aside gently to reveal a door. With a quick password that sounded amazingly like my name, the door was opened and you led me into what may possibly have been the most gorgeous room I had ever seen.

It was small, (as rooms in the castle went), only a few paces across to the wide bay window with a luxurious window seat that just screamed to be sat upon. It was long however, with a desk on one side that was covered in papers and a fireplace with a sofa on the other. The walls were covered in tapestries of designs and patterns, not of figures that could observe and tell others what they'd seen.

You quickly set a fire and its warm light danced across the walls, making the room seem homey and beautiful.

"This is my haven," you said quietly, watching me closely to see my reaction.

"It's beautiful," I whispered. "But why are you showing it to me?"

"Because... I wanted you to see me, as I am. I know that I haven't always been the best of friends. No, don't interrupt." You smiled at me ruefully, raising your hands to quell my argument. "I haven't, I know that. I'm annoying and rude and hell to put up with, but you've stayed my friend. All of you have, through everything. And I couldn't ask for more.

"I know that you have this inferiority complex and all that, but I want you to know how important you are to me. I don't say it enough, and I know that." I blushed; as guys, this wasn't a typical conversation, and it was making us both very uncomfortable.

"But you see Remus, you're the best person I've ever met. You're kind and caring and brave and smart and wise and loyal and everything I've ever wanted to be. And you see Remus, well...

"I love you.

"And I mean that in more than as a friend way."

Silence filled the room for a very long time as I stared at you in astonishment. You'd given me friendship and companionship for five years; you'd given me much more than I had ever thought I deserved. And here you were, offering me your heart. Offering me the one thing you could never take back, ever.

We both knew what it would do to our friendship.

And at that moment, I'm sure that neither of us cared.

And as you tentatively kissed me and I responded in kind, I learned from you the most important lesson of all.

How to love.

* * * *

All the lights in my room were extinguished; even the curtains had been drawn tightly across the windows to make sure no light crept in. It was warm and cold and I was shivering and feverish, crouched down in a corner. All I could do was whimper and remember, and hurt; oh, how desperately I hurt.

Lily and James and poor little Harry.

How could you, Sirius?

How could you?

I'd loved you, trusted you, told you everything, even when I had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, you were the traitor. That you were betraying us, betraying me.

But still I had allowed myself to trust you, letting you pull me further and further into the quagmire that our love somehow became. And still, somehow, through this dense fog of hatred and disbelief, somehow I still loved you.

Peter too, poor little Peter. How could you, Sirius?

My whole life had fallen to ruin around me, and somehow all I could see in my mind's eye was you laughing like a maniac as you were dragged away to Azkaban, where you belonged.

How can you belong there? How, Sirius, how? Why?

And I had thought that you were different, stronger.

I had thought that you loved me.

Shivering in the darkness, utterly alone once more, I learned from you the art of madness.

* * * *

I stared down at the map for what seemed like forever, tracing one finger over the name that I thought I would never see upon it ever again.

Peter Pettigrew.

My first coherent thought was, 'Oh Sirius,' before I took off after you, leaving the parchment behind on my desk.

I ran to you with my heart beating an erratic rhythm in my chest, wondering if things could ever be the same again, wondering if you were the same, wondering if we could be the same.

Wondering if that's what I really wanted.

But it didn't matter, and when I finally saw you again, and had the presence of mind to take Harry's wand away, I could do little else for a moment but stare at you, trying to understand, trying to get you to make me understand. And when I finally did, there was nothing I could do but engulf you in a rib-crushing hug that I never wanted to end.

Everything exploded around us after that, explanations running rampant, along with fear and hate and pain, but when that part was over, before I changed, as we were dragging Peter along the tunnel with us, I looked over at you and our eyes met. Hidden deeply within those orbs, under the grime and haze of Azkaban, I could see the Sirius Black I once knew and loved. You smiled at me and my heart filled with a new warmth, for you, for the future, for everything.

And so I learned how to hope.

* * * *

Flashing of curses, screaming of pain, and you, fighting.

You had raced here upon the news, searching, looking, have to save Harry; have to help Harry. Not a thought for anybody else, not a thought for me. But it didn't matter. It couldn't matter. You had to take care of Harry; he was your godson, your responsibility.

We'd lived together for a while now, remembering, relearning, understanding things that we never understood when we were young and naïve. I held you at night when you cried in your sleep and you held me right back.

I guess... we were happy, as odd as the thought seems, being happy in the middle of such a war. But we were.

And then the curse hit you and your mocking laughter caught in surprise and I watched you fall... fall... fall...

Gone through the veil.

Sirius.

I knew it and you knew it as you fell, that you weren't coming back from this. This was the end, the end of Moony and Padfoot, the end of your life. I held Harry back in a haze of disbelief, feeling numb horror and pain lacing through me.

Oh, Sirius.

And so you taught me what it's like to lose everything, utter, complete loss, with no hope of ever getting it back.