Silver Bullets // Wolfstar AU

EGG MOON WAXES

April 1st 1979

THE HAIR SALON

The snip snip snip of the scissors and Mrs Potter's tuneful humming were the only sounds in the kitchen. Remus sat on a chair, curls a little damp, looking uncomfortable as Mrs Potter bustled around him, trimming what needed to be trimmed and hacking off what needed to be hacked off.

The hair drifted to the floor like feathers from a shot pheasant as it plummeted. Mrs Potter's fluffy slippers shuffled through the piles of shawn-off curls, kicking them to the sides, letting them scatter. Remus fixed his eyes to the floor, wondering whether letting Mrs Potter do this-cut off a part of himself-was letting her mould him, letting the Order change him. His neat haircut, his clean face, his new clothing ... was it all an attempt to turn him into one of theirs? A tame werewolf, desperately trying to fit in?

It felt like every snip of the scissors tore away another part of his life with the Pack.

He brushed away the thought. Surely a tame werewolf could never be so outspoken as to be seen at the Ministry? Could be so dangerous as to need a guard and a prison and an entire organisation watching over him?

I am not tame, he vowed to himself. I will not be here forever. Finally, he looked at Mrs Potter, who had shuffled back to survey her work. I belong to no wizard. I belong to no witch.

"It looks lovely, Remus," she said, a smile creasing the skin near her eyes. "Awfully smart."

"Thank you," was the brusque reply before he stood, brushed the hair off his lap, and walked back to his cell.

.

His hair gleamed like spun gold where the light struck him. It was out of his eyes now, and the golden irises glittered, bare and visible. Remus bit his lip and frowned in concentration at the paper before him.

Sirius tore his eyes away and continued down the corridor.

.

.

INTERLUDE

Sirius had been convinced all through school that he was broken. Not that he'd admit it, of course-not even to James-because it was brought on by a fact that ashamed him.

He first had sex in fifth year, fumbling in a disused classroom with Marianne Greenwoden. James had told him the day before she had the best tits in the school, and Sirius had nodded along, not really knowing or caring what made them so great compared to any other. He told James afterwards that he had been wrong; Marianne Greenwoden's breasts had disgusted him, as had everything about her body.

He tried again, and again and again, and even the long-legged, olive-skinned beauty that was Marlene McKinnon (in the year above them, no less!) could fit his preferences.

Preferences which he didn't discover until after they'd left school. Early 1988 had brought the revelation.

"Bloody hell, Jamesie, I've worked it out-I'm gay!"

James had laughed. "I know."

Sirius, eyes wide, had gaped. "What?!"

Hazel eyes glittered behind thick glasses. "It's rather obvious, mate. Seventh year, you were obsessed with that Ravenclaw bloke, and I tried to tell you, but ... you honestly didn't realise?"

"Why didn't you bloody tell me, you utter prat?!" And Sirius had punched him in the arm, and James had tackled him to the ground, and soon enough they were panting on the floor, laughing, and their eyes had met, and James said: