Praying for the Dark

Praying for the Dark

Remus Lupin moaned softly as he locked the last dead bolt on his basement door. He then cast a spell on it and all the windows to make them imperturbable.

He began to shudder as hair grew from all his skin. His nose began to protrude to create a snout. Soon he was howling in, running in circles searching for something to hurt, finding nothing he was forced to bite himself.

He bled in pain, but found neither joy nor sorrow from it. Tears leaked from his eyes as he howled, wishing not to be alone as animal instincts took over.

For hours the pain from his self-inflicted wounds did not cease and he continued to bite himself. He continued to howl with the pain of the bleeding and loneliness. A caged in animal, rabid and craving the contact of another, but the bit of humanity left in him told himself he couldn't have it.

As the moon began to set, his need for drawing his own blood, any blood, decreased. Soon he was huddling in a corner, a pain-riddled creature.

His blood flowed freely, but he did not care. He was regaining his humanity and with it came good, but painful, memories. They let him reminisce about when he didn't have to suffer through this alone. When his dear friends weren't dead, caged up (for he knew all too well that feeling), or traitors of trust of trust. When these hairs were only a minor issue. When he could romp with his friends, safe from hurting them.

As the last hairs faded, he went to undo the padlocks. Going to his wardrobe, he took out the potions and ointments he kept there, gingerly applying them to his own bleeding, aching body. He then took out a tattered old cloak that was thoroughly stained by ointments and potions and put it on.

He looked in the mirror to be sure all traces of his slavery were gone. He took the wooden cane from beside his wardrobe and pocketed his wand. He wobbled out his door into the frosty night air. The cold helped stop his pain, numbing it. He limped slowly to the park and through its gates.

He stared up at the moonless, star-less sky and breathed in contentment. The darkness showed him he was liberated of his slavery and could live freely, if only for a time.

Tired, he did not hear the person walk up behind him. She stared longingly at him, but by the time he turned, he only saw an old lady ambling along. Striding up to her concerned, he asked,

"Are you lost? Can I help you with something?"

Remus was greatly confused; no one ever came around here. He began to worry. What if he had got out and bitten her? She probably wouldn't have survived he answered himself worry clouding his mind.

"I'm fine, dear. But what is a young man such as yourself doing out so late?" she inquired, hoping to get just a few minutes to talk with him. He was always so closed up nowadays.

"Nothing all that interesting," he said, but she raised her eyebrows silently questioning this reply.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he explained.

He thinks I'm a Muggle. She almost laughed, but caught herself.

"Try me," she suggested.

She reminded him of someone, though he couldn't put his finger on whom. It had to be the look in her eyes, he decided. They were comforting, homey almost. Seeing this anywhere surprised him, he hadn't known anything to be homey since his Hogwarts days.

"I've just had a bad night, I thought I would walk it off," he finally said.

What took him so long was it particularly bad tonight? She wondered.

"You look tired. Why not sit down?" she suggested.

He must have had a really tough night, she thought. But they didn't sit down as she had suggested, instead they continued walking, though Remus slowed down, in consideration for the old lady.

She asked, "So what happened, tonight? You poor thing, you look as though your best friends just turned on you."

This hit him hard; it was too close to home. "More a master only just left me alone," he said, thinking this was a safer topic than discussing his friends.

She almost cried at this, it wasn't fair he had to go through that alone, that he made himself go through it alone.

"A girl was it?" she asked knowingly trying to hide her knowledge of what had really taken place.

"Of a sort, you could say," he agreed. After all, the moon was considered by many to be a feminine feature in the night sky.

"It hurts when you can't have them, doesn't it?" she asked, while to refusing to admit she might be talking about herself.

"Yes, it does," he agreed, brightening her hopes.

"Has anyone close to you ever died?" he asked, because this is how he felt as though his friends had died again and she felt as though she had been shot down.

"Many sadly," she replied, staring up at him.

"Oy wotcher!" she warned him as he almost hit a low hanging branch.

He avoided it with ease and shot her an odd glance, one she couldn't avoid.

"Interesting. I only know one person who speaks like that and meaning no disrespect but she is much younger than you." An interested grin, turning out to be more of a grimace as he experienced a jab of pain, made its way onto his face.

She must have looked surprised, because he suggested,

"Why don't we sit down? I'm getting a bit tired." She took a seat on a park bench gladly, but more concerned for him than she was for herself.

"Old battle wound?" she inquired, trying to keep the subject as far away from her as possible.

"Actually a quite new one," he replied.

Oh my God, she thought, he got that hurting himself tonight. Without so much as a second thought, which probably would have been advisable just then, she kissed him on the lips, giving in to her longing.

As she pulled back, Remus looked down to see a young pink-haired woman, with a heart-shaped face, facing him. He was not as surprised as she had been by her impulsive actions and her subconscious transformation.

"Good evening, Nymphadora," he greeted, politely teasing, as though she had only just appeared, which was true in a sense.

Her face had become a shade pinker than her hair and still was as she said, "Good twilight. And don't call me that."

"Ah is that what you call snogging in the dark before dawn?" he inquired, still teasing.

"No," she stated matter-of-factly, something he was quite sure she had picked up from Hermione.

"That is what the dictionary calls the dark hour after dusk and often the hour of dark before dawn."

"You have learnt something new I see," he said, sounding impressed.

"Only so I could use it in a context such as this," she replied, stubbornly.

"And what context is this?" he questioned.

"The one in which I finally get to snog you," she teased.

"Well then by all means," he said raising his eyebrows suggestively. "You are given permission."

"Since when did I need your permission for such things?" she asked as though offended.

"Since I started doing this," he replied, kissing her sweetly.

"Well that's why I didn't know about it, it occurred so recently," she told him, scrunching up her nose and kissing him again.