Journey to Perfection
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended. I only claim ownership to the characters I create (i.e. Isabelle Starrpynski) and the situations (that are not Canon) that I place them in.
Rating: R, for sexual and adult themes, violence, and imagery.
Word Count: 2453
Summary: Remus Lupin has not always had an easy or a happy life, but now after resigning from a job he loved and enjoyed, he's forced to, once again, sulk on his lonely and bitter existence. Wallowing in his self-pity, Remus ventures into the Hog's Head, only to meet a erudite woman that may just help to disrupt the monotony his life has become. Remus/OC, Post-POA.
Note: This story was featured on Mugglenet Fan Fiction, in March 2005.
Remus heavily shut the book he'd been perusing and carefully placed it back on its shelf. Raising his arms up over his head and feeling a warm breeze caress his exposed stomach, a loud groan escaped his mouth as he stretched. Bending forward then back, he straightened up, fixed his shirt and left the small, stuffy room.
With two days of research and limited resources, he had all but found a paragraph on the subject of cursed scars. Not only this, but so far he'd had no success in contacting Isabelle. Though admittedly, Remus was apprehensive on approaching her.
After much contemplation, realization had dawned on the werewolf that both he and Isabelle had underestimated the emotional investment put into the kiss. Outwardly, guilt reined him, making him reluctant to confront her, but inwardly, he needed the personal interaction with the callous blonde. Not knowing how she felt frustrated him. At the back of his mind, though, a nagging voice continually interrogated, should you risk her happiness for your Lycanthropy?
Remus tightly closed his eyes and shook the thought from his mind. I wouldn't have kissed her if I wasn't sure she lacked the obvious prejudice, he reassured, but a few new questions surfaced.
"Why does she lack that prejudice?" he questioned aloud, walking into the kitchen and lighting the stove with his wand. He set a light blue kettle onto the fire and seated himself on one of the weathered stools next to the counter-top. "She's obviously not a werewolf. She wouldn't have a job, and I would've sensed it otherwise." Lines of concentration creased his scarred face as he pondered. "Maybe a friend suffers the affliction?"
He once again shook the thought from his mind. Having observed her for the last (almost) three months, he had come to the conclusion that Isabelle was not a social butterfly. He had yet to hear her mention of times with good friends and the like, and it still remained a mystery to him why someone like herself associated with him and not any of her closer acquaintances.
He sighed, deciding to quit his analysis, and stared across at the peeling patterned wallpaper. He had never quite had the enthusiasm to magically fix up the faded wall decoration, though it suddenly bothered him that his house was so beat-up. Hearing the whistling of the kettle, he stood and put out the fire with the tip of his wand. Tapping the kettle, he watched it pour hot water into his tea cup and then briefly glanced again to the wall. He gently ran his fingers along the frayed, striped paper, faintly longing for a something to brighten the place. Forgetting the thought, he brought his now filled cup over to the table and absent-mindedly stirred its contents.
Remus attempted to contemplate other subjects, but Isabelle always seemed to rise to the surface. He found it funny how much their friendship had blossomed after their initial introduction and how much he enjoyed her company. He may not have shared every aspect of his life with her, not that she was very keen on sharing hers, but it was nice to have someone to talk to. After so many years of isolation and depression, her appearance in his life had been a turn for the better, even if they often spoke of unhappy and questionable topics.
Though, as much as he enjoyed being with her, there were limitations to what they could discuss, especially when it came to their personal lives. Remus knew he was not the most open person, and that he preferred to observe and memorize every nuance and mannerism of a person than to reveal his entire life story to him. Unfortunately, this posed a burden, as he soon realized Isabelle played life by the same rules, but to a stricter degree than he did. In turn, it dawned on him that if he wished to pursue a relationship with her, she would not be the one to make the first move, he would.
Then he remembered some wordly advice from a few old friends of his.
"Moony, if you really want something, you need to be assertive," said the young man with a fag hanging from his fingertips and a mess of black hair falling into his grey eyes.
"Guys–"
"You know, Padfoot has a point. The nice guy act only goes so far. You need to be assertive, and persistent," added James, squeezing Moony's shoulders.
The adult had a disgruntled look on his tired face. Though he was only nineteen, he possessed a mature wisdom that most young men didn't. Yet his eyes still held a youthful, mischievous glint that told others he still had a liking for his friends little wrongdoings, but knew when enough was enough.
"Guys, no. There's nothing I want," said Remus who took a drag from his own cigarette.
"Sure there isn't, Moony. You keep telling yourself that." Sirius rolled his eyes and blew smoke in Moony's face.
"Thanks," said Remus ungratefully.
"Whatever, Moony. Confidence goes a long way, too. Better keep our words to heart, as they will be to your benefit one day."
Remus sat on the stoop in front of Isabelle's door, wringing his hands in nervous anticipation. He had yet to knock on her door or ring the bell, knowing that she could be home at that very moment, but he preferred to sit a little longer and contemplate what he wished to say. He still felt apprehensive approaching her, and didn't know why he even bothered to Apparate here in the first place.
Hearing a creak behind him, Remus turned his head to see Isabelle leaning against the door frame. He quickly stood and dusted himself off. "Uh, hi... How'd you know I–"
"I just Disapparated in awhile ago. When I went out to the back garden to check on my herbs, my neighbour, who was watering her plants, informed me that a shabby-looking man was seated on my front step. Said he'd been sitting there for close to an hour." She smiled at him. "I knew it had to be you."
Isabelle saw that he was embarrassed and apologized in her informal way. "Not that I think you're shabby-looking... Anyway, I guess you want to come in, don't you?"
"If I could, please." He entered her home and walked with her to her kitchen.
Last time Remus had been here he remembered seeing a couple copies of the Prophet strewn all over the table, a few dishes in the sink, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey on her counter-top. Looking at her kitchen now though, it was close to spotless, besides a small yellow vial, an ashtray and a pack of fags on the table.
She motioned for him to sit down whilst she levitated a small dish of assorted sweets, two wine glasses, and a bottle of Vileplume's, though he couldn't tell its flavor. As she carefully set the objects on the table and sat down, he noticed that today she seemed very down to Earth, not so cynical and sarcastic as she usually was. He had read in the newspaper that many Ministry workers and officials were working to breaking point since the fiasco at the World Cup, and it truly showed on her.
Remus was still debating if he really wanted to confront her about their kiss and if he wanted to actually attempt a relationship with her. He had been surprised when she invited him in, as they hadn't talked since that morning. She either completely forgot their awkward situation or was pretending that nothing happened between them, that he was here for small talk. He figured the latter since the former was utterly preposterous.
Before Remus could consider methods of introducing the unavoidable task, his thoughts were brought to a halt.
"I guess you've healed quite well since... you know..."
Remus looked up in time to see her avoid his eye and settle her own on her cigarettes, which were next to his arm.
"Yeah, I guess I have. Nothing new, though. I've learnt to cope with the aches and pains associated with a post-turning." He watched her place her hand on the table and start tapping her fingers in a nervous rhythm he was quite familiar. He eyed the pack of smokes and pushed it toward her. "Here."
"You don't mind if I–"
"Go ahead."
"Thanks." She pointed her wand to the window and cracked it open. Then, in one fast motion, she took a cigarette from the pack, lit it up, and took a long, slow drag. Exhaling smoke, she motioned for him to continue.
"You're stressed." Remus knew all too well how much he used to rely on his nicotine addiction to alleviate stress, and it was quite obvious to him that Isabelle was the same way. It was justified by the fact he had to soon bring up the uncomfortable truth as to why he was here, and for a moment he had an urge to snatch a fag from her pack and light, but controlled it.
Isabelle replied, "How observant of you. Anyway," she sighed, "Don't think I don't know why you're here."
"I know," he nodded. "Though you've avoided me the last two days, I'm happy you did."
Isabelle coughed and said, "You are?" She set her cigarette in the ashtray.
Taking a deep breath, he dove in. "Yeah, I am. It's given me time to think. Think about... us." He wasn't sure how to describe the expression on her face, but he didn't think it was a good thing. "Look, I-I haven't really had the best of summers, years even. For a long time, especially since recent anti-werewolf legislation, I've been isolated, bitter and angry.
"I-I really don't like sharing this type of stuff, but I really want you to know that you've helped reduce the monotony a bit, and..."
"And?" Isabelle asked shakily, her face growing pale.
His breath was caught in his throat and his palms were sweating. You can do this, Moony. Just say it, a voice in his head assured him. Confidence goes a long way...
"And I care about you. Really care, Isabelle. And though I can't be sure you feel the same, I'd really like to further this... Further our friendship to som-something more."
Remus averted his gaze, fully aware that his face and ears must've looked something similar to a tomato by now. When he looked up again, he saw Isabelle up and leave the table. As he stood to see what was wrong, praying he hadn't said the wrong thing, he heard a door slam.
"You screwed up, Moony."
Taking a cigarette from her pack, he lit it with the tip of his wand and left.
Isabelle watched the distraught werewolf leave through blurred vision. She hated that she had left the room like she had, but she didn't want him to see her like this, to see her crying. Until his confession, she hadn't realized how much she did care for him, and she hated that she did.
Opening the top-left dresser drawer in front of her, she took out a framed photo of herself and Richard. The picture had been taken two summers ago by her mother, during a time when her and Richard were new to love and actually enjoyed each other's company. It looked so unnatural to her, to be standing next to him and smiling. Her cheeks were full and flushed, and seeing Richard's grin brought back so many memories of when they used to do things for each other. When one cared for the other...
With the way things were heading in the Wizarding World and seeing herself now, she knew that her and Richard could never rekindle the love they first felt for each other. It hadn't deepened and become rich, it had become cheap and shallow.
Moving the picture around in her hands, she felt the sharp edges and gently brushed her fingers over the encased photograph. As she gazed into Richard's light blue eyes, a surge of rage went through her. She hurled the picture across the room, watching as the glass shattered into pieces and the frame break in half. Isabelle ran from the room and out of the house. She could fix the wall later, there were more important things she needed to fix.
Remus sat next to the pond in the back of his home. It was quiet and peaceful. The animals were hidden among the brush of the forest and he could enjoy the moonlight without feeling threatened. Taking a small rock from beside him, he tossed it and counted the number of times it skipped across the water.
Simple, he thought. No feelings involved. No worrying about a broken heart. Nothing complex. "Just simple."
"Not everything's meant to be simple," a feminine voice chimed from behind him, but he didn't turn.
"What do you want? Haven't you done your damage for the day?" he replied somewhat nastily.
"I'm... I'm–"
"Just stop trying, Isabelle. I've known you long enough to know that you can't apologize, for anything." He skipped another rock. It only skipped twice.
She spat angrily, "Will you just turn around and listen to me?!" Consenting, he maneuvered around to face her. "You know, it took me three hours to find you." She paused for a moment. "It took me three hours to find you, so that I could tell you that-that I care for you. That I want to pursue this."
Remus opened his mouth to say something, but he was at a loss for a coherent thought. Closing his mouth, he contemplated for a minute and then asked, "Why did you leave the table like you did? Why couldn't you have just said that after I told you what I felt?"
And that's when he saw it. He couldn't understand it, but he saw it. A real smile, a haunting smile gracing her pale face as the moonlight made the tears trailing along her cheeks sparkle.
"I left because I didn't want you to see what I'm doing now... crying. Crying like the big baby I am."
Remus stood up from the ground and walked over to her. He cupped her face in his rough hands, and he smiled. "You're not a baby. Just quit with that nonsense."
He couldn't quite comprehend it, but this Isabelle was different. Twice that night he had been amazed. Once by her beautiful smile, and twice by her laugh. There was still so much he had to learn about her, but right now, the only thing he wanted to enjoy was her laughter, and the happiness he felt at having his arm wrapped around her whilst she sat closely to him.