"All of your friends have been here for too long, they must be waiting for you too move on. Girl, i'm not with it, i'm way too far gone. I'm not ready, eyes heavy now."
_______________________
REMUS LUPIN
In exactly four months time, there will be a cure for lycanthropy. No, scratch that. There will be a cure for my lycanthropy.
All i've ever wanted my entire life is to be normal, human—if that's what wizards are. The chance to lead a normal life not dictated by the moon. And I can't even allow myself to take joy in it, though I should.
I'm the first werewolf to have a normal schooling experience, and the first werewolf that might be able to do anything other than be vicious. That should mean something, if not everything.
But I'm no longer the only werewolf that falls into those categories anymore.
So the question is, who is more deserving of the cure?
Of course, I'd told Dumbledore the answer to that is, without a doubt, Cordelia.
Then he explained to me thats not what he meant. 'Mr. Lupin, please try to understand the remoteness of a cure like this. The question is not who deserves it more because they've had a harder life; it's who deserves it more because they will make better use of it. In the long run, Mr. Lupin, who is more likely to achieve and maintain a successful career? Because based on academics and skills alone...I know the answer. When this cure is ingested, the consumer is going to be studied for the rest of their life, observed endlessly. We need to ensure the effectiveness, and the only way to do that is by choosing the best possible candidate. And unfortunately, the best candidate isn't always the most fair one..."
So, in other words, I have no choice.
Fuck, how do I even tell her?
Do I tell her?
I sigh as I stare out at the Black lake, admiring it's unusual stillness. If only my mind would try and replicate the calm. Everyday there's something new for me to feel terrible about.
Pulling my scarf tighter around my neck, I try to think of something—anything else but that.
Well, Cordelia's been rather distanced with me lately. Very much giving me the cold shoulder, and I don't know how to fix it. I mean, she's going to have to talk to me sooner or later in preparation for the trial, but as of right now...I think she hates my guts.
I find this odd considering how kind she had been breaking up with me. She may finally be releasing her anger.
"Hey," I jump at the unexpected sound of a males voice.
Amos Diggory stands next to me, eyes cast straight forward at the Black Lake. I can't help but notice the overall gloom that poisons his aura, as if he's carrying a cloud of sadness over him. I wonder if it will ever stop raining.
Clearing my throat and looking back at the lake, "Hello," I say.
The tension in the air is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife. For I've never been fond of him nor him of me. Ironically, both because we share a similar protectiveness for the same girl. But now he's in the same boat as I. Neither of us even talking to the reason for our mutual distaste.
"Weird isn't it?" He speaks eventually.
My brows lace together, "Hm?"
"How life changes but everything looks the same," I turn to face him, sure the confusion is written on my face. I've never been good at understanding complicated words or riddles; never had the wit of a Ravenclaw. Amos lets out a shallow chuckle when he realizes I don't understand what he's trying to say. "I just mean, everything is different than how it was three months ago, but the Black Lake still looks exactly the same. If you stare long enough, and forget long enough, it's almost like you're in the past,"
"Huh..." I ponder his revelation. "Never took you for the existential type,"
He chuckles again. "Not existential mate. Just, nostalgic? I guess?"
"Aren't we all,"
☽☽☽
I'd spent majority of my week avoiding conversation with Cordelia. Not that it was hard.
I decided I wouldn't lie about the cure, just...evade the truth.
She's started sitting with us at meals occasionally, and even walking with us in the halls sometimes. Always being near me, but never close.
I wonder a lot why no one else has noticed the slight changes in her behaviour. She just seems overall...different. Better? There's only one solution I can think of, and I don't like it. It has to be because no one else is so aware of Delia. No one else watches her the way I do. It's pathetic, and kind of stalkerish.
However, If Dumbledore was being honest about Cordelia and I having to work together, I must know for sure. I can't let my brain eat me alive with possibilities. I have to know if she's seeing someone else. I have to know if that's the source of this new...contentness.
So, for the last twenty minutes i've been thinking of all the best ways to ask her if she's moved on.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I whisper under my breath. She looks at me, her jaw suddenly clenched.
"Lunch is almost over," she says through her teeth.
I glance at our friends surrounding us. "I need to speak with you alone," I press.
She glares—but it isn't the same as usual, it's nearly homicidal, so I just wait. After a second, she gets up and stalks quickly out the great hall. Long as my legs are, I nearly have to run to keep up. As soon as we turn the corner into a short hallway, she spins around to face me.
"What do you want?" she asks, sounding annoyed. Her eyes are cold. Her new unfriendliness intimidating me.
Hey, Cordelia, no big deal...but are you seeing someone?
My words come out with less certainty and more accusing than i'd planned. "You're fucking someone."
Cordelia scoffs, eyes wide and bewildered. "I am not! And even if I was, that's—that's none of your business anymore."
I flinch back from the resentment in her voice. "Why have you been acting like this lately?"
"Remus, you must've hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about. I'm not acting any way," Her tone is cutting. "You just don't know what i'm like when i'm not chasing after you."
Okay...
ouch.
Her anger only makes me more sure that I'm right, though. "There is nothing wrong with my head, Cordelia."
She turns up the heat of her glare. "What do you want from me, Remus?"
I don't want anything.
I just want you.
I just want you.
I just want you.
"I want to know the truth," I say. "I want to know if I have to lie for you."
"Lie about what? What do you think is happening?" she snaps.
It's harder to say the words out loud, where I can hear the crazy. It shakes my conviction, but I try to keep my voice even and calm.
"I've seen you and Black, Regulus, around each other a few times. Never talking or anything, but close enough to raise suspicion. Do you know what would happen to you if the wrong pureblood got suspicious—it could be catastrophic. For both of you. Do you know what would happen if his parents found out? He's a Slytherin. T-then those hickeys on your neck..." It just keeps sounding worse and worse. Like i'm simply a jealous ex-boyfriend. I can't continue.
She's staring at me, her eyes wide and incredulous. But she can't entirely hide the tension, the defensiveness.
"You think im seeing a Slytherin?" Her tone questions my sanity, but there's something off. It's like a line delivered by a skilled actor—so hard to doubt, but at the same time, the frame of the movie screen reminds you nothing is real.
I just nod once.
She bites her lip and looks to the floor. "Nobody will believe that, you know."
"I'm not going to tell anybody."
Surprise flits across her face. "Then why does it matter?"
Because, I don't care who's arms you are lying in, as long as you save space for me.
Because, there is no doubt in my mind you will be mine again.
Because, you seem better and i'll do whatever I can to protect that, even if that means letting you fuck someone else.
"It matters to me." I say. "I still care about you and I'm worried about you. Bloody hell, you didn't even decide a sentence for me!"
We both know if she could've sentenced me to at least a few months in Azkaban if she wanted. Crimes involving werewolves are not taken lightly. If she had done that, I wouldn't be here to question her about her new...hobby.
"Can't you just thank me and get over all this?"
"Thank you."
"You're not gonna let this go, are you?"
"Not a chance, my love."
"Then I hope you're prepared to learn a thing or two about disappointment." She scowls at me, and I stare back, thoughts scattered by how beautiful her anger is.
I'm the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I'm in danger of being totally distracted. It's like trying to stare down a personal wrecking angel. "If you're going to be like this about it," I say, "why didn't you just pick the punishment yourself? Save yourself all this trouble?"
She pauses, and for a brief moment her perfect face is unexpectedly vulnerable. "I dunno." she whispers.
And then she turns her back and walks away.
It takes me a few minutes until i'm able to move. When I can walk, I make my way slowly back to the common room. Thinking of nothing but how I will wait forever.
☽☽☽
The weekend went by without incident. My friends were out, most of the time. I wrote my mother a handful of fake cheerful letters to take her mind off things, got ahead on my homework, and cleaned up the dorm—obviously my slight ocd isn't a problem for the boys.
I went to the library Saturday, but I didn't even bother to check out a book—there wasn't anything interesting that I haven't already read; I'm going to have to find a good bookstore at Hogsmede soon.
People greet me in potions class Monday morning. I don't know all their names, but I smile at everyone.
Dorcas takes her now normal seat by my side where Delia used to sit. We have a pop quiz on Healing Potions. It's straightforward, very easy.
All in all, I'm feeling more comfortable than I thought I would feel by this point. Not as comfortable as I would be with Cordelia by my side, but more than I ever expected to feel without her.
When we walk out of class and into the court yard, the air is swirling with bits of white. The wind is freezing against my nose, my cheeks.
"Wow," Dorcas says. "It's snowing,"
I look at the little cotton fluffs that are building up along the ground and swirling erratically past my face.
"Ugh." Snow. There goes my almost okay day.
"You don't like snow, Rem?" She looks surprised. "You used to love it when we were younger."
"I'm just ready for spring, to be honest, Dorcas." I tuck my hands into my pants pockets. She loops her arm through mine as we walk to transfiguration together.
Looking up at me. "You're right. All good new things bloom in spring,"
We round on the transfiguration classroom. "It's not even that. I'm not craving anything new. I'm just sick of it being so fucking cold and dark all the time,"
"Is that why we can be friends again? Because you're not craving anything new?"
"What? We could always be friends, Dorcas don't be silly. I just think that friends to you means something a little different..." I trail off.
Dorcas bats her lashes. "It means whatever you want it to mean."
"I want it to mean friends!"
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
_________
song: friends by chase atlantic
i'm so stressed abt this story i need to do it justice but also hurry up and finish it bc it's been like a year lmao