ataraxion | (no subject)

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In the spirit of sharing things . . .

[He gives a little sigh and tiredly rubs at his face.]

Many of you know what werewolves are, whether they are simply myths or actual reality for you. For those who don't, however-- werewolves are people who, during the full moon, change into wolves. Rather self-explanatory, I know. If someone is bitten by a werewolf while they are in their wolf form, they too become a werewolf. As far as I've heard, it's the same the world over.

Where I come from, however, there has been a cure developed-- not to remove the curse entirely, but to subdue it. It so happens I found the ingredients in my locker a few days ago.

[He stares at the camera firmly.]

Should anyone need it, or would like to try it-- I will not ask you to reveal yourselves. I don't believe anyone should be forced into revealing who or what they are, should they not wish to. But my room-- and the potion-- is always open to any who might want to try it.

This also means, however, that during the full moon, I am not dangerous. I'd appreciate anyone suddenly deciding they fancy themselves monster hunters to curb that urge; there is no need for it.

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Which is why I'm not asking you to take my picture.

Yes, but you want to see a photograph of yourself. Isn't that bad enough?

[But he stands up, exaggerating a stretch.]

I'll have to go and fetch it from my things.

Of James, actually, that's who I'm interested in seeing.

Eurgh. James? Disgusting. He looks the same as he always looks, you know, awful little showy prat that he is. Why would you want to look at him, when you have me right here with you?

[But for all his sneering, he goes to the door.]

Twenty seconds.

I'll be counting.

[He gives Remus one last grin, and then ducks out. His room isn't that far from Remus', and he doesn't have very many possessions--so just a little over twenty seconds, he's back, picture in hand.]

Here y'are!

[The one he hands to Remus is the four of them, the Marauders. Sixth year, some stupid common room party--probably after a Quidditch game; James has his Quidditch sweater on and Sirius has a scratch over his eye that he keeps fussing with, and Peter is beaming and even Remus looks somehow pleased, though he keeps trying to duck out of the frame. The photograph Sirius is having none of it, of course, and keeps dragging him back.]

[He smiles a little more nostalgically than, perhaps, is warranted and shakes his head.]

What is this, fifth year?

Nah, sixth! 'Cos, see, James' eyebrows are just starting to grow back in--this is just a month after that massive explosion in the Charms corridor. I think it was a month, anyway, it might be more. We just played Ravenclaw.

[He laughs a little.]

And won, I assume. Yes, we did, or else you'd be scowling. Oh, cut that out--

[He adds that last sentence to the Sirius in the picture, who is dragging Remus out in a headlock.]

Well, he wouldn't have to, if you weren't so keen on trying to slip out of their and go off and hide in a closet with your books, or whatever it is you do at parties. And after we'd won, too! Bad manners!

I don't like crowds, you know, I never have. I would have celebrated afterward, with the four of us.

Which we did, of course we did. But you had to Officially Be There as well--anything else just isn't right.

[He gives the photograph another fond smile. The second one is of Hogwarts itself, from across the lake--stupidly sentimental, so he switches it quickly. The third is far more recent--the summer between sixth and seventh year, the summer Sirius has just left behind--all of them at the seashore, and Peter's buried up to his neck in sand and Remus has a book and James has a jellyfish that he's slain most mightily.]

[His smile fades somewhat at the sight of Peter, but he focuses on James, because that's a happy memory, at least.]

That was a good book, as I recall.

Terrible pillow, though. Useful for killing jellyfish with.

[He grins a little at that, pleased at the memory, pleased that Remus probably didn't know they'd used it to kill jellyfish with, as they'd wiped it off quite carefully and never spoken of the murder--but when he looks around at Remus, he picks up on some small something--]

What is it?

Nostalgia. This was last summer for you, wasn't it?

Er--yeah. Nearly three months back now. We went for a few days--you do remember it, right?

[Not that Remus is so old that his memory's failing him or anything, but even so....]

I'm thirty-eight, Sirius, not ninety-eight.

[He pointedly rolls his eyes at Remus, to disguise the fact that he in fact feels a bit stupid.]

It's all the same. Anyway, you asked. I'm just telling you. It was this summer, yeah.

Just making certain.

[A beat. He frowns, although there's a hint of a smile there.]

Was that the summer with the French girl, or was that the summer before?

[That gets a laugh out of him, pleased that Remus remembers.]

That's later this summer, actually. The summer before was where we wrote you letters every day, and you told us to stop because in the end they weren't really letters at all, and you didn't appreciate the Elba comparisons. This summer was much sexier. No Elbas at all.

[He laughs as well, amused by the memory he'd forgotten til now.]

Sexier for you, at least. I seem to remember James, Peter and I weren't quite as lucky.

Quite sexy for me, thanks. And that's only 'cos James was too busy mooning over Evans, and you were preparing for your destiny of marrying my bloody second cousin so there was no sense in anything sexy for you.

Which only leaves poor Peter. Please tell me he finds someone. Something. I can't have my heart moved to pity over his eternal loneliness.

[Again he hesitates.]

He-- finds his way, certainly. Aren't you more concerned with your own future?

[The hesitation catches his interest, and he looks around at Remus.]

You're going to tell me if I ask?

[Thank god. Remus relaxes, and even smiles a bit.]

No, I just find it surprising.

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