Title: Lone Wolf
No Longer
Author: Kate of Kintail, kmcdevit@vt.edu
Fandom: Harry Potter, Marauder era
Rating: G
Pairing: Sirius/Remus
Disclaimer: *sniffles* They’re not mine. And I’m broke and getting worse by the second. This fic doesn’t change that.
Summary: Sirius reflects on Remus’ wolfish side
Notes: This fic was inspired by a show on Animal Planet about how much of a tame dog’s nature and instincts are wolfish traits.
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Lone Wolf No Longer Remus is more like a wolf than he’d like to admit, I’m sure. I wish I’d known him before the bite. I sometimes lie awake at night imagining or watch him when he’s not looking, and wonder what he must have been like then. Of course, with a name like Remus Lupin, it’s a safe bet he wasn’t so significantly different. But in my estimation, back then he couldn’t have been whole. I don’t think he even realizes how very much like a wolf he is, how much the nature is embedded in his very lifestyle on all the other days and nights in a month when he’s not actually in wolf form. My first impression of him was that of a scrawny, brown-haired kid who was silent and nervous after being sorted into Gryffindor. It had been a night of surprises for everyone else, in my being sorted there instead of into Slytherin, but I knew why, and James had a pretty good idea about it as well. But that quiet boy who clearly should have been a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw getting sorted into Gryffindor? And then sitting down next to me? I wasn’t going to have any of that. “This seat’s saved,” I told him the second his rear touched the bench beside me. He mumbled an apology and he got right up to sit on the other side of the table, far down from where I was. He didn’t look up the rest of the night, and only spoke when students addressed him directly. He didn’t know how to be social and friendly, and truth is I think he was scared to try. He didn’t know where he was supposed to fit in, like a new wolf forced into a pack. Little did I know that was because he’d never had friends before in his life. At first, he was every bit a silent roommate. You know he’s there, so you can’t be perfectly normal as much as you want to. But at the same time you don’t bother with him James was my best mate, Peter was the fat one, and Remus was just… that other one. If anything, he was the quiet, constant one. He was always there, watching, listening, sensing, but never speaking or ingratiating himself on us the way Peter did, trying desperately to be accepted. But Remus was always there, except when he was in the library. I think the library’s where I first took real notice of him. He had read all the required textbooks by the first month and, I found out much later, he’d read half of the other books in the library before even getting to Hogwarts. He probably should have been sorted into Ravenclaw just for that. But the hat knew better. The library was his turf as much as his bed was, the only places I’d ever seen him do anything more than sit silently and obediently. In the library, he walked more than he sat, and observed more than he actually read. He’d pace back and forth behind the rows of books, peeking out at me and at James as we sat and played card games or swapped comics hidden in our books so the librarian wouldn’t see. Sometimes I’d move to another table to talk with one of the girls, and sometimes James would get up to find a book. Remus was always on the move at such times, circling the library instead of pacing, as though trying to heard us back to our normal spots together. We didn’t know it then, but he’d picked us as his pack and he didn’t want to risk us breaking up before we could even get together. But he would never take the initiative and approach us. His shyness was just a part of being scared of us. He was scared to open up to us, because he never had before. He was also scared of what we would do to him. Wolves in the wild are very cautionary animals. They never attack unless they know they have a chance. They’re highly intelligent, smart enough to know when they can’t win. They don’t want to get hurt, let alone unnecessarily. And though they understand that these fears will go away once they join their pack and have others to help them make decisions and watch their backs, it’s not always easy to be accepted into one, or to pull one together from scratch. Yet, we came together somehow, under his watchful eye and his herding. We came together to play, and to hunt. We explored and roamed through the castle as a group, watching out for each other and attacking with mischief and mayhem whenever we could. And though James was and always will be my best friend, when Remus and Peter joined us, what we became as a group was far better than anything James and I had on our own. That was Remus’ chance, and he took it for all it was worth. After a few conversations and adventures, he began to talk, and began to open up to us. Wolves can be solitary creatures when their survival depends upon it. And when you live so long alone with a secret like his, you learn not to trust others and you learn to help yourself. It took him a year and a half to tell us about his being a werewolf, and even then we figured it out first. That was after a year and a half of us sending flowers to his sick Mum and thinking he had the worst immune system in the world. I think he was expecting us to lynch him or something when we found out. Not just for the fact that he was a werewolf but because he’d been lying to us. Either that or cast him out of the pack to go fend for himself again, and by then we all knew how miserable he’d been at the start of first year when he’d been forced to do that. But after feeling us out, and realizing we wouldn’t desert or betray him, it only seemed to make the pack stronger. It was this thing we all shared, now. Like we were werewolves, too. Like we were just because one of us was. Suddenly we all acted as one. We’d help him come up with better excuses, and we’d cover for him when it came to the other students. His survival depended on us, then, and we wouldn’t let him down for anything. He knew that well enough. We were his pack. And when I
say his pack, I really do mean his. He
was our alpha male, no doubt about it. I don’t think he really knows I think of
him like that, but that’s most certainly what he is. Oh, of course James is the
leader. We all follow what James says whenever he says something worth saying.
And I’m, well, I can be mouthy and come up with wild and courageous ideas to get
us all thrown into detention, I’m not denying that either. But Remus is the one
who keeps track of us, who takes care of us. He always knows what we’re up to,
and he’s able to persuade us to do things, or not do things, without saying
much. There are many ways for wolves to communicate, the least of which is vocally.
His eyes, his body language, his expressions, they all talk to us more than a
few words do. He has a way about him that’s very convincing, very controlling,
though he doesn’t always exercise it. He lets us prowl the school, up to no
good, and joins in most times, but makes it perfectly clear what will happen to
us if we get caught. Remus is the one who pulls James aside after Quidditch
practice, licks his thumb, and cleans dirt from James’ face. “How you get so
dirty flying through the air I’ll never know, but you don’t look half as
handsome as you think you do all scrubby like this,” he always says while
rubbing the The pack’s loyalty took a while, but the friendship and understanding was there right from the start. We all had things we didn’t like about ourselves… but in the pack, those things didn’t matter so much. One person’s weaknesses were the others’ strengths. And we all had our roles and places. The thing you have to know about wolf packs is that they’re complicated. There’s not always a clear alpha male. In our case we have an alpha who doesn’t even know he’s one. But there’s nothing that says the alpha has to be the biggest and the strongest. He’s just the one with the most influence. The one the rest of us rally behind. The one who we wouldn’t be a pack without. And that’s Remus to us, hands down. Then there’s a beta wolf. I don’t know that we have one of those, at least not an assigned one. The beta’s the one that always supports the alpha, who reminds the others who is in charge. Sometimes that’s James, and once in a while that’s Peter. But most of the time I think that’s me. No matter what we’re doing, I always make sure Remus has his say. It’s funny, even before I realized why I always asked, I never really cared what it was he said but I always wanted to know what it was just the same. Of course we don’t always follow his advice, but that doesn’t mean it’s us against him. Instead of studying we sneak out under James’ invisibility cloak and paint the entrance to the Slytherin common room maroon and gold. And Remus comes too, carrying the paint and standing guard. And he gets caught sometimes with us of course. But mostly we get caught pranking whenever Remus isn’t around to talk some sense into us or watch over us. So when I say we’re stronger and safer as a pack, well, that’s exactly what I mean. But we do have our omega, just like any other pack. And sometimes it’s James or me, or sometimes both when we allow ourselves to get caught together just so it’s less lonely in detention. But most times it’s Peter. When things go wrong, it’s usually his fault since he’s the lookout, and we do get angry at him. And yet, he doesn’t mind taking the heat for us. I think he enjoys being able to take the blame or take our anger, just because it keeps us safe and makes us feel better. He seems to enjoy just being with us, in any position, and is comforted to know he belongs and has an important role, even if it is as the omega. He does have his moments of brilliance, of course. And he does act like the perfect follower other times, supporting our every move. But like I said, we all have our roles. And it’s more complicated than just labels. In the end, the pack turned out strong, just the way he wanted us to. Real wolf packs have both male and females, and the social hierarchy is complex. Ours, however, just had us. Just the four of us. All guys. But that didn’t stop us from naturally emulating a real pack. And though there was tension from time to time, there was also love, and caring, even more-so when Remus and I became the alpha pair. In a pack, usually there’s only one pair that mates, and that’s us. We won’t be the ones to sire the offspring of course… but he’s the alpha and I’m his bitch. We’re the strongest when we’re together. And we’re the most like ourselves when we’re alone together. We were the pair that was meant to be. Sure James and Peter looked for love in girls outside the pack. I even dated a number myself. But Remus never did. It’s so hard for me to believe at times, especially since I remember how mean to him I’ve been to him at times, but he only had eyes for me right from the beginning. It didn’t matter how many others I went out with, he knew we’d end up together. He had faith in us, and in the pack. That was his strength. One of his strengths, at least. Just one of many. Sometimes I think he is so strong nothing can shake him. Every month he goes through torture, and comes back the same as always. Remus is the survivor. Sometimes I think the reason I was mean was the hopes of just once seeing him be weak. I wanted to see him hurt so he would know better how I felt. But even after the rude comments and nearly making him kill a fellow student, he still wanted me. He must have known why I did it. And he still wanted me anyway. He wanted me to be his mate. Wolves don’t mate for life. That’s a common misconception. But that doesn’t mean they’re promiscuous either. It’s common for wolves to have one mate for their whole life… because it’s what they want, what they need, not because it’s what they have to do by nature. And for Remus, I’m his. That’s just the way it was. The way it is. The way I always want it to be. Then there are his senses that make him a wolf. Those he knows about, though I doubt he understands the extent to which his are heightened. He can see the far end of the Quidditch pitch from the window. He can tell what’s for dinner by smelling the kitchens through the walls. He can hear us coming up to the dormitory simply by listening to the rhythm of our footsteps before we’ve even hit the portrait of The Fat Lady. But far more important than that, is the fact that he can practically sense trouble coming. He gets this feeling… and all the little hairs on his arms and legs stand on edge. And we all know to make ourselves scarce when that happens. He pulls us back when we’re on the staircases and about to step on the stair that pretends to be there but isn’t and then moves a moment later. He covers his eyes when watching the Quidditch seconds before a bludger hits James but never even flinches when a bludger comes close as though it’s about to hit but actually misses. He can tell when Filch or Mrs. Norris is coming around a corner before we can even get the map out. And he can sniff out a hidden passage to allow us to duck away in safety in a matter of seconds. He knows very well he’s special like that… but he does it all by instinct and doesn’t realize that we rely on him so much more than he on us. He lies beside me now, either curled around me or stretched out against me so I can curl to him. He has to touch me as we sleep, I learned that early on. Before we began sharing a bed, it was normal for me to toss and turn as I slept. It was normal for me to wake up and take a trip to the loo or downstairs to the kitchens for a late night snack. Once in a while when James or Peter slept in bed with me, or I with them, I was able to sneak away quite well for either of those tasks, or just to get a good breath of night air by the window. But once Remus moved in and claimed my bed as his own, I could not move without him waking with anxiousness. He has to know exactly where I am at night, and in order to sleep at all restfully he has to be touching me, even if it’s just a hand lying lightly on my arm. Do not get me wrong, it’s nice to have a partner to raid the kitchens with at three in the morning, or to have someone hold you at night when you’re cold and a little lonely. I wouldn’t trade my freedom at night for that, even if it bothers me sometimes when I need to slip out of bed to pee and he wakes, heart pounding, breath racing, as though scared to death that I’d tried to leave him forever. Sometimes he walks me up the stairs to the boy’s bathroom and falls asleep on his feet, leaning against the wall as he’s waiting for me, which requires me to take him in my arms and carry him down the stairs to bed. “Just watching over you,” he’ll mutter as I tuck him back into my bed and curl myself around him. I reach over now and stroke his cheek, his face twitches in his sleep, but he does not wake. Instead, he lets out a soft sound halfway between a whimper and a sigh. For as much as Remus is like a wolf, I must admit I adore him for it. For were he otherwise he would not be my Remus. I stroke him as one would a pet, but I know that the truth is he’s wild. He might try to fool people with his bookish tendencies and prefect manners, but in his heart he is as strong and courageous as any of us. I’ve seen the rage in his eyes when people try to threaten any one of his pack members. And I’ve seen the way he’ll give up eating a meal to go to an abandoned classroom to practice defense spells against the dark arts after we get wind of another attack going on out there in the world beyond Hogwarts. He is a wolf to the core, but one I would never want tamed. My animagus transformation is a dog for a reason. It’s the closest thing I could get to a wolf while still being commonplace and not recognized for some extravagant animal when seen by others. He is my mate, and I wanted us to be that in any form, so I can always be with him, even when it’s not safe for me to be there in human form. Not that I could have willingly chosen the form, but if I could have, I’d have been just what I am. I stop petting for a moment, and inch away a little. Suddenly there’s a look of distress on his face. “Padfoot?” he murmurs and reaches out, finding my thigh. His expression changes to one of relaxation and a smile crosses his face. He falls back to sleep in an instant. I turn into a big black dog for him, and I let him snuggle close to me in his sleep. He buries his face in my fur, nuzzling me like a pillow and, sleepily, reaches up to give me a pat on the head before falling back into a sound sleep. If he had his choice about things, I think he’d have me sleep as a dog beside him every night, just to keep him warm and comfortable. He’d crawl around me in circles, making a nest out of blankets, then snuggling up next to me contentedly. He even sleeps like a wolf, curled on his side. When he dreams, his face twitches and his body shakes. Sometimes his legs and arms will move a little, as though he’s running on all fours. And sometimes his upper lip curls up in a snarl, showing clenched teeth. I’ve no idea what he dreams about, for he’s never told me though I frequently ask. But given the way he looks and sounds, he cannot be dreaming of anything good, and my thought is that it’s the feelings these dreams leave him with that make him so protective of us, and make him want to keep us together. Safety in numbers is just a small part of our pack, though. We’ve got the strength and the smarts as well. Remus chose his pack well. When we’re all four together, there’s no force outside the pack that can stop us. |