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My Name Is Remus Lupin. I am a Werewolf.	By : Hanakai Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1162 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-My Name Is Remus Lupin. I am a Werewolf.
- 1
My Name is Remus Lupin. I Am a Werewolf.
~ Hanakai (Vain) Mikakedaoshi
9.16.2003

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Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot. Harry Potter and all the elements therein are the intellectual property / registered trademarks of JK Rowling, Scholastic Books, and Warner Brothers. The Embrace was written by Mark Doty. I am not profiting from this.

A hundred Thank You's to my infallible beta, LadyDeathFaerie. I love this woman--she makes me lucid! :-D

Warnings & Notes:
Major BOOK FIVE S.P.O.I.L.E.R.S. ahead.
Remus Lupin/Sirius Black slash.
This story was inspired by Mark Doty�s poem The Embrace, which is quoted in beginning and end.

This is not intended to connect to the J. Alfred Prufrock Arc, but it can if you really, really want it to.

However, this story can be seen as a continuation to A Broken Glass Kinda Magic. Nevertheless, it IS NOT necessary that you read that to understand this.

Don�t Steal From Me.

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This story is dedicated with a thousand tiny little hearts to Apapazukamori, my precious Senpai,
and the evil, evil, evil young woman who introduced me to Harry Potter.
Much love, poppet!
-�Kai

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�You weren't well or really ill yet either;
just a little tired, your handsomeness
tinged by grief or anticipation, which brought
to your face a thoughtful, deepening grace.

I didn't for a moment doubt you were dead.
I knew that to be true still, even in the dream.�

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The thing that I remember the most is your face. I remember it as both pale and flush. Full and thin. Open and hard. The You Before and the You After. At night, I close my eyes and I imagine that I feel the heat of your palm pressed gently into the shallow slope of my hip. I imagine that I can smell the peppermint of your breath from the toothpaste and hear your ragged, shaky breathing beside me. The chill of Azkaban never left your lungs any more than it left your soul. I was so worried that you�d get pneumonia.

But I remember your face the most.

It comes to me sometimes in half forgotten visions that I mistake for dreams. I close my eyes and tilt my head back into your phantom lips and sigh once, sweetly, peacefully. I sigh into your mouth that isn�t there and your name leaves me in slow exhalation. You smile against me, cheek to cheek, and glide your hands down my thin chest. Perhaps you tease me because I�m too slender�too gangly to be healthy. And then I growl deep and low in the back of my throat. I imagine that you laugh.

Sirius.

I twist up to capture that laughing mouth again, reveling in the heat of you beside me. So long. It�s been so long . . . And you sling an arm around me to draw me nearer. So close.

�Shhhhh . . .�

Sirius.

And I know that you�re dead and that you�re not here. And I know that you�re dead and this isn�t real. And I know that you�re dead. I know that.

But you�re here and it�s real for me now. Thank you.

Butterfly kisses shower my forehead, my cheeks, my face; down, down, down the long slope of my neck. I crave and savor such intimacy. You touch me and you�re not afraid. You touch me and you love me.

And I love you.

�How kind,� I whisper into your lanky black locks. �How kind of you . . .� How kind of you to give me this little fantasy�this last bit of you. And the words betray the lie that I so desperately want to believe.

�How kind.�

But you only laugh sweetly into my chest as your tongue flicks one of my nipples in passing. �I�m not a kind man,� you respond to the slightly sunken flatness of my belly.

�Yes, you are,� I tell you. Because it�s important that you know that. �Kind and marvelous and beautiful and . . .� I love you I love you I love you . . . �. . . so kind.�

You love me.

You kiss my bellybutton, lingering there until I squirm restlessly beneath you. And I love you I love you I love you�

�It�s alright.� Your voice sounds hollow and thin with just a strain of honey, like a broken honeycomb left abandoned on windy day. You trail lower with slow cruelty and make soft soothing noises in your throat. But there is no promise in your eyes. No teasing anticipation�simply a deep, gentle reverence that I don�t deserve. But I want it.

So I stop you with a gesture and draw you back up along the length of my body. This shouldn�t be like that�not banal. Not plain. Not when you�ve given me this small piece of your eternity�of your broken glass magic.

Our lips meet once more in another delicately saccharine kiss. It�s so simple, so pure, that I moan into your mouth. And you hold me tighter and hush me, promising me everything and nothing with the night�s silence.

�I love you,� I whisper as we part.

You gently stroke my hair, loving me, petting me, and smile as though you know the greatest secret in the world. �I know. I always knew. I love you as well.�

�Then don�t go.� As soon as the words leave my lips I know that you must, that you have no choice. I know that you�re desperately sorry.

The knowledge offers me no comfort.

�Don�t go,� I beg once more.

You make a noise like a soft whine and hug me tight. �I love you,� you repeat, sounding desperate this time. You rock me gently back and forth in your arms. �Close your eyes.�

I obey, inhaling the scent of you deeply.

�Dream of me, Remus.�

I nod and feel your weight shift and then vanish.

�Sirius?�

�Remus?� The voice startles me. It isn�t yours and I suddenly know you�ve gone.

�Remus?�

I turn away from the sound, unwilling to open my eyes and admit my loss.

Yes. You�re dead.

Sirius.

1

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My Name Is Remus Lupin. I am a Werewolf.