Crying Wolf


by llamajoy


love is a ghost, haunting your head
love is the killer you thought was your friend
love is the monster
love is the creature who lives in the dark
--concrete blonde


As fortune would have it, Remus Lupin heard the news a day too soon.

Another twenty-four hours, and he could have grieved as a man. You! You-- my star, my friends--

But in the fullness of the lunar cycle and the capriciousness of fate, the owl came at dusk, that evening. His hands trembled, as they had not since he was a small boy, new to his change.

James and Lily dead. And oh, the child, their child-- Peter dead. My world ending, all I ever held dear--

And Sirius Black, their killer. Sweet Judas, lover--

So he ran. Could I find you, I would kill you-- how dare you--

The night was too warm, beckoning and suffocating all at once, but the surrounding forest welcomed him like a greedy lover, the whisper of foliage around him like the ghost of a caress. You made the months bearable, you laughed at the moon beside me--

The moon was swollen and red, not golden as harvest, or pearl-bright as springtime, but blood-angry and resentful, low on the horizon. I would have given my life for you-- damn you--

When the change came upon him, it was like losing his breath into the sky. He noticed no other difference, his heartbeat already a chaos within his chest, his every limb shaking. the thought-scent of your blood, and my tongue is dry--

There was only the slightest pause when he stumbled and fell to all fours, and ran on, transformation complete. my throat is burning for the sweet traitorous taste of you, pack-brother--

Only before school had he ever run wild on the full-moon night like this, when he had been so mad with it that he escaped his mother's makeshift pen. Tonight, the wolf in him grieved with animal fury, unable to comprehend the sudden loss any better than his rational human mind. my jaws are itching for justice, for the feel of you, my head possessive at your neck, flanking you, my night-running mate--

Eyes rolling, he rushed soundlessly through the underbrush, too aware that he ran alone. He ran with the course of the heavens, following the dance of the stars, from moonrise to morning. my teeth are thirsty for the kill, seeking deep to your heart's core, where the blood runs darkest-- a lover's last kiss-- my blood-bond privilege--

When the moon bowed her head to the oncoming dawn, he threw back his head-- ancient and raw and desperate, wolf-loss and man-loss both. He keened at the heavy unlistening moon until his heart was empty. murderous beautiful-- brother-mate-lover-- i trusted you-- i trusted you--

"I trusted you!"

Dimly he realized he was human once again, his clothing in tatters, pounding bloody fists on the moss-grown forest floor. He coughed, his voice an agony. The forest was silent around him, dappled with impartial shadow.

Hoarsely, he whispered, "I trust you," barely noticing the tense shift, barely realizing the treasonous edge of his sorrow. A cool breeze played in his hair, carrying away the faintest echoes of his words.

Perhaps, in her way, fickle fortune saved him, in the end, his curse his blessing. For these things are true: no werewolf can take his own life, and grief, like passion, fades.

And Remus Lupin, shivering and far from home in the early hours of day, had only energy enough to weep.


~o~





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