Though sweet as wine, as thick as blood
Wednesday, February 14 • Night
They were together again in his dream.
Shifting, sighing, one blending into the other and neither letting go.
The new moon was approaching; in theory Remus was as much in control of himself as he would be this cycle. He needed to know how much of the poison remained, and he needed not to rely upon the sleeping draughts every night. Whatever the modified wolfsbane potion would consist of, it probably wouldn't be helped with all manner of other potions swimming in his system. Lupin hadn't consulted anyone; he'd simply decided to make himself a blank canvas.
Free of restraints, his sleeping mind had gone directly to Izabel.
They were in her bed at Hogwarts, the silk of her nightgown puddling on the floor where he'd tossed it, lights on so they could see each other.
And then the tempo of the dream changed.
Faster, harder, his fingernails digging into her skin and her encouraging him on, even more so after he began to bite.
Lupin woke up, aroused and terrified and breathless. Instinctively Remus reached to her side of the bed, for the comfort of knowing she was safe ... and Izabel wasn't there; he was alone.
Cold sweat dried and adrenaline slowly drained away and sleep would not be returning this night.
Eventually Lupin rose from the bed and went to the window. He could wander in the woods, if he wanted, to think and be alone, perhaps ranging farther than he'd done in the day, when for courtesy's sake he'd not gone anywhere that would inconvenience the house elf he knew was following. He could go look at the place where the house might someday be.
Instead, he sat, and in the light of sliver of moon left in the sky he contemplated the scars on his arms, usually covered by long sleeves and blending in quite well with his pasty, English-white skin.
He thought of what would be happening this night down south, where the more feral of the werewolf communities would be performing their version of the rites of Lupercalia, taking cues they'd picked up from Greyback, mauling and infecting new mates now to be ready to claimed with a true bite on the third.
A part of him wanted that, as abhorrent as the human in him considered it to be. Remus stood and drew the curtains back further. Merlin knew he was weak, and compromising principle for the sake of survival was no new thing, but this was a taboo he would not risk breaking. He would not find a middle ground between what was right and what the wolf wanted.
Hogwarts was much too far to be seen from Glen Hollow, but he knew where it lay from here.
Until this madness was gone or at least muzzled beyond danger of it slipping, this distance would have to remain.