Wolf

I am hurting. Still.

Probably will always be, but it's something you can't get used to. The emptiness, need for companionship that stirs deep within you like an animal instinct, pain you've been carrying so long it seems almost normal, but it's heavy, dammit. And somewhere deep down you know this isn't the way it should be. There's something you've missed.

A different life that you could have had but somewhere along the line you just weren't in the right place at the right time, and bliss has slipped through your fingers. What could make you whole is simply out of reach. Maybe just inches beyond your fingertips, but untouchable all the same.

And you can't take back the one mistake that still lives on. The one mistake that wasn't even your fault, but it's there, for all to decry and denunciate. You, they say. It's things like you that ruin our society. And you turn around, try to see whom they are talking about, crane your neck, but there is no-one behind you.

Their stares bore into you with their coldness like lethal icicles, penetrating your soul and slowly freezing it.

~*~

Wizard attacked by wolf.

This morning at around 3 o'clock, a wizarding-couple were attacked by a werewolf in a large park in London, in close proximity of a muggle-dwelling.

Both wizard and his wife threw stunning-spells at the wolf before he managed to inflict serious damage upon them. They have been admitted to St. Mungo's to check for injuries, but their conditions are stable. The wolf has been executed by the Committee for Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.

~*~

Have you ever walked through a room, but it was more like the room passed around you. Have you? When it seems like the walls are melting and the roof is coming down, everything is disintegrating but you are the only one who can see. The only one who can feel this world coming apart at the seams. And you think you have to get the hell away from here, but everything looks exactly the same, and you don't know which way you came in and you don't know why, but most importantly, you don't know how to get out.

Have you ever been at some place, recognizing everybody's face, until you realized that there was no one there you knew. Have you? When you feel the claustrophobia creeping up behind you, but when you look behind you, it's gone, only to stare right into your face when you turn back. To scare the hell out of you because looking into a face like that is worse than the devil himself.

When you find yourself all alone in a faceless crowd, looking but not seeing and listening but not hearing, and you feel so banal, so common-place and mundane yet you know you will never, ever be like these mundane and common-place people that surround you. These normal people. Like, when you live in a cookie-cutter world, being different is a sin. And you don't stand out, and you don't fit in. Because there will always be good and evil, and black and white, but what the hell is a hybrid to do?

~*~

"I know you're hurting."

"I know you know. I know you're hurting, too."

"I saw the paper, the Prophet. About the werewolf. You saw it too, didn't you, Remus?"

"Yes."

"He was special, wasn't he? He was the oldest."

"Yes."

"So what now?"

"It's me now."

~*~

Two boys, lying together on a bed that looked exactly like the four others in the room, red velvet hangings drawn and them tangled up together just like the cord that held the curtains.

"My uncle turned forty yesterday. I wonder where we'll be when we're forty, Remus."

"I won't live to be forty, Sirius. You know that. Transformations make the body weak."

"Yes you will. I bet you will. You're special. You'll be the oldest werewolf in all of Britain. In the whole world! And we'll celebrate together. We'll always be together!"

But he wasn't here. He wasn't here now, and he wouldn't come, wouldn't knock on the door and say Surprise! I've been hiding for the past few years, Remus! But you know we'd be together. You knew, didn't you? We'll always be together, I promised you. You know I did!

He wouldn't come.

You promised me, Sirius! You fucking promised me! How could you do this to me? I lived for you! I exist for you now, but where are you? What are you doing, why aren't you here? Here with me? Where the fuck are you?

~*~

Watching the coffin being lowered into the earth, standing between James' son and Peter's former owner. Listening to the pastor's music play and wanting to be somewhere else. Thinking of other days, brighter days, nicer days. Hoping against hope that this is some kind of sick imagery, a twisted fantasy gone wrong,feeling like a dancer in a daydream.

Devoid of emotion, somehow, tragically-wonderfully devoid of the emotion that can rip a heart to shreds in the blink of an eye.

Looking dry-eyed, seeing, hearing monotonously, feeling, but not living. Not knowing the exact moment in which it stopped, but feeling the heart beating in it's cage of bone and muscle without supporting the soul anymore.

~*~

"Remus, I'm so sorry."

"Why? It's not your fault. None of it is."

"I know. But it's your birthday today."

"Yes."

"I don't have a present for you."

"Don't worry. I don't need presents."

"What's that supposed to mean? You're not... going to do anything stupid... are you?"

"I'm not going to kill myself. I can't."

"Because you're a werewolf?"

"No. Because my will to live is too strong. That's some irony. I'd laugh if I thought it was funny."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

~*~

Watching the boy sitting in front of me. He's not really a boy anymore. Twenty. He is a man. God, he looks so much like his father. Just like everybody tells him. And like his mother, though not so many people tell him that, I guess. He has her eyes. It's them looking at me.

Then again, maybe it's not, because he is so different. His father, so wonderfully spontaneous and loyal. His mother, so energetic and full of life. But he has something that neither of them possessed. Patience, inner peace. Willpower, and something so dammed captivating. That makes you look at him and want to keep looking, not moving or wanting him to move, just so you can draw on it, feed on it, get drunk on it.

Something that pulls you in.

I didn't tell him to come, but I didn't tell him to leave, either. Now that he is here, I am grateful in spite of myself. He is patient, patient with me, patient while I reminisce, not on purpose but because the Prophet has shocked me and I can't stop the memories from coming today.

I didn't want him to come but now he is here and maybe that isn't such a bad thing.

~*~

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"How did you know it was my birthday?"

"Don't worry about it. Was it wrong of me to come?"

"No. Thank you."

"Maybe next year we could have a party. Maybe it won't be so bad then?"

"Maybe. Next year is a long way away."