James was quiet for a moment, and then he sighed, raking both hands back through his tangled curls. "Okay," he said, his tone more subdued than it should have been. "Okay, Evans. I..." He swallowed, looking down at the notes she'd given him, and stood abruptly, tucking the parchment against his chest. "Thanks. For the notes, and everything. And for worrying about me." He didn't want her worrying, but still, there was no denying the warm sense of gratification it brought. Maybe that was what brought him back to himself enough to give her a much more Potter-like smirk, raising his eyebrows. "Always knew you cared, really."
He even managed a wink, although he didn't feel up to hanging around any more than that. Instead, nudging his glasses up his nose, he bolted, striding away from the corner of the common room and up to the dorms. Sirius might be there, and that was awkward, but at least it wasn't Lily Evans awkward. And at least in the dorms, he could draw the curtains and be more or less left alone.
Once the immediate horror of the situation passed, though, he had to admit, it was nice that she'd cared. It was a pain in the arse, because now he was watching his back every step of the way, and because, Godric, it was hard enough being a responsible guy who didn't drag her into his crap, without her trying so hard to be dragged - but it was nice, even so. Five years of infatuation didn't go away overnight, and he'd spent so long wanting a crumb of any genuine feeling from her that wasn't disgust...
But then, any time he started fantasising about what it might mean, where it might go, he ran smack-bang into the brick wall of his situation. He was a werewolf. He was a werewolf who had been turned at Hogwarts, by the same guy whose secret they'd been trying to hide for years. There was no getting past that. There was no romantic happy ending, here. Her concern couldn't mean anything for him, except that if she kept digging, they were all going to be in danger. Not just him, not just her. Remus. Sirius. Even Peter, who hadn't really done anything, would be in the deep shit.
So, no Evans. No concerns. And next time - as he said to Peter, who was the closest thing he had to a confidante with Sirius and Remus both slinking around their own guilt - he was just going to have to play it off better. It would get easier. Remus had been managing it for years. He just needed to... not be sick.
It wasn't that easy.
The moon started waxing two weeks later, and he felt it more strongly than ever, the wolf in his blood, the waning of his humanity. He kept wanting to throw up, or to scream; he felt like there was a migraine building in his whole body; his temper was on a hair trigger for the last week of the month, and at one point, he made a whole gaggle of first-years cry, yelling at them about running onto the pitch during practice. At least he didn't miss practice, this month, although there were some alarmed murmurs from the Gryffindor team about how they were going to play with a Chaser who kept nearly falling off his broom.
And then the full moon hit. Mindful of what had happened last time, he decided to sneak back to the Common Room as early as he possibly could, sidestepping Pomfrey (Remus, unwillingly, agreed to offer a distraction) and making for Gryffindor Tower while the grey of dawn was still in the sky.
If he'd looked bad the month before, he looked worse now. The treatments hadn't had time to work fully yet, and his brown skin had a horribly greyish tinge, which only made the livid cuts on his face and the suspiciously toothy-looking gouges in his arm stand out more. He looked exhausted, deep shadows under his big brown eyes. But if he could just get through the common room, and back to the dorms, then he could cover all of that up before breakfast, and come downstairs with the others like nothing had happened.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-08-05 01:06 am (UTC)He even managed a wink, although he didn't feel up to hanging around any more than that. Instead, nudging his glasses up his nose, he bolted, striding away from the corner of the common room and up to the dorms. Sirius might be there, and that was awkward, but at least it wasn't Lily Evans awkward. And at least in the dorms, he could draw the curtains and be more or less left alone.
Once the immediate horror of the situation passed, though, he had to admit, it was nice that she'd cared. It was a pain in the arse, because now he was watching his back every step of the way, and because, Godric, it was hard enough being a responsible guy who didn't drag her into his crap, without her trying so hard to be dragged - but it was nice, even so. Five years of infatuation didn't go away overnight, and he'd spent so long wanting a crumb of any genuine feeling from her that wasn't disgust...
But then, any time he started fantasising about what it might mean, where it might go, he ran smack-bang into the brick wall of his situation. He was a werewolf. He was a werewolf who had been turned at Hogwarts, by the same guy whose secret they'd been trying to hide for years. There was no getting past that. There was no romantic happy ending, here. Her concern couldn't mean anything for him, except that if she kept digging, they were all going to be in danger. Not just him, not just her. Remus. Sirius. Even Peter, who hadn't really done anything, would be in the deep shit.
So, no Evans. No concerns. And next time - as he said to Peter, who was the closest thing he had to a confidante with Sirius and Remus both slinking around their own guilt - he was just going to have to play it off better. It would get easier. Remus had been managing it for years. He just needed to... not be sick.
It wasn't that easy.
The moon started waxing two weeks later, and he felt it more strongly than ever, the wolf in his blood, the waning of his humanity. He kept wanting to throw up, or to scream; he felt like there was a migraine building in his whole body; his temper was on a hair trigger for the last week of the month, and at one point, he made a whole gaggle of first-years cry, yelling at them about running onto the pitch during practice. At least he didn't miss practice, this month, although there were some alarmed murmurs from the Gryffindor team about how they were going to play with a Chaser who kept nearly falling off his broom.
And then the full moon hit. Mindful of what had happened last time, he decided to sneak back to the Common Room as early as he possibly could, sidestepping Pomfrey (Remus, unwillingly, agreed to offer a distraction) and making for Gryffindor Tower while the grey of dawn was still in the sky.
If he'd looked bad the month before, he looked worse now. The treatments hadn't had time to work fully yet, and his brown skin had a horribly greyish tinge, which only made the livid cuts on his face and the suspiciously toothy-looking gouges in his arm stand out more. He looked exhausted, deep shadows under his big brown eyes. But if he could just get through the common room, and back to the dorms, then he could cover all of that up before breakfast, and come downstairs with the others like nothing had happened.
Right?