“Oi! Mahavior! Mind sharing some with the rest of us?” questioned a tall, handsome youth with chin-length ebony hair; so black it bordered on blue. He was sitting in the armchair closest to the fire, which was also the one with stuffing leaking out of it. He had a scribbled over essay in his lap, but he wasn’t working on it. He was staring longingly at Irene’s food.
“Not on your life, Black,” Irene replied, cramming the entire pasty into her mouth before the boy could have a chance to use a Summoning Charm on it. Quickly, she pulled her square-rimmed reading glasses off her face, noting the fact that Sirius Black was very prone to pouncing people like a five year old when he didn’t get his way in life. She glanced over and saw Sirius’s face contort in pain. She let out a hearty chuckle, which ended up in her spewing crumbs all over her couch partner.
“Irene! Merlin, chew with your mouth closed,” Remus Lupin reprimanded before turning back to his Transfiguration paper as Sirius went back to mutilating his own. Irene rolled her dark brown eyes before stretching her legs out and placing them on top of Remus’s paper. He tried to shove them off, but to no avail. “Come on, Irene, I need to have this completed before Monday,” Remus sighed exasperatedly.
“Oh, live a little Remus. It’s only Friday night! You still have two nights to finish your bloody essay,” Irene retorted, refusing to move her legs off of his paper. Slapping her glasses back onto her nose, she hunkered down into the cushions, gazing at him steadily. Remus grunted in defeat before dropping his essay and quill into his book bag at his feet. He leaned back and sank into the cushions before turning to glare playfully at Irene.
“There’s just no getting past your Irish temper, is there?” His golden eyes twinkled, but Irene noticed the large bags that lay beneath. He looked utterly exhausted, and she was probably doing him a favour by forcing him to put the quill down.
Wait, Irene thought. Golden? She did a quick double take and looked back into his eyes, but they were their usual shade of grey. Must have been a trick of the light, she reasoned.
“None at all. I get it from Da, old fiery bloke. Me mam must have something to do with it too, but she’s a bit of a Scot,” Irene answered, twirling her short red curls around a finger.
“Mmm,” was the only sound she got in return as Remus closed his eyes and let his hands settle on her legs. Chills erupted up and down her short legs, and she was very grateful she had worn the thicker socks. She let her eyes drift to Remus’s face, and she studied his tired figure.
His hair was shaggy and in need of a trim. The light brown bangs were millimetres from touching his eyebrows. Her hands itched to run them through his mop. She noticed that his lashes were the exact same colour as his hair, and they looked so pretty sitting on his high cheekbones. Her eyes sank lower, and settled on his lips. They were thin, but nice. His mouth also had a nice shape. Nice for kissing, Irene thought. She caught herself and stared in amazement at the boy sitting in front of her, now fully asleep.
This is Remus Lupin, the boy you’ve known since you were eleven years old, Irene lectured herself. You can’t like him, it would be too awkward. Her mind told her this, but she knew that soon enough her heart would take over, and most likely make a fool of her. She let out an echoing gust of air and Sirius looked up.
“Does old Professor Moony have you trapped?” The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile, and Irene grinned lazily back before pulling herself into a sitting position. Or, at least, she tried to sit up. The minute she moved her legs, Remus’s strong grip closed around them, rendering her any movement.
“Err, Black?” Sirius chuckled and stood up, walking around Peter’s sleeping form on the hearth. He gripped Irene’s arm and pulled her off of the sofa. She smoothed her ruffled skirt before turning around and staring at Remus.
Sirius saw her gaze settle on Remus for a moment too long and tried to hide a smile of delight. “Don’t worry, it’s even harder to get his teddy away from him when he’s asleep,” Sirius assured her, and Irene giggled at the thought of Remus snuggled up with a large teddy bear.
“James still in the Hospital Wing then?” Irene asked, noticing for the first time his absence in the Common Room. The poor bloke had been beat to a bloody pulp by the entire Slytherin Quidditch Team. Sirius had sworn a painful death to each of the hulking boys.
“Yup, but he should be out by Monday. And don’t tell anyone this-” he whispered leaning closer to Irene, “-but I saw Evans visiting him twice, two days in a row.” Irene started. Lily Evans, the hotheaded wench that James Potter was obsessed with had actually visited him? I’m impressed, Irene thought.
“Probably made Potter’s day.” Irene grinned.
“More like his whole life,” Sirius countered. “The only thing better to James would be the day they get married and have tons of bespeckled babies that we’ll have to baby-sit.” He shuddered at the very thought.
Irene laughed out loud. “Please, as if that will ever happen. You should hear Evans rage in the dormitories. Every time James even opens his mouth she goes on the warpath.” Irene let her voice take on an angry tone. “James Potter is a sick prat who can’t get it through his fat head that I hate his guts, blah, blah, blah. It’s a daily ritual,” Irene finished, allowing her voice to go back to its usual sound.
Sirius started to laugh, but Remus gave a snort and he tapered off. “Poor mate; his mum’s getting sicker and sicker. He’s going home to visit her tomorrow.”
Irene looked over at Remus and hurt for him. The boy was always so exhausted; never taking a break from his homework, Prefect duties, and on top of that, his mum seemed to always be coming down will some form of illness. She would have to find a way to cheer him up when he got back to Hogwarts after his visit.
Irene yawned loudly, bid Sirius a goodnight, and trotted up the winding staircase to her dormitory. The other girls were already asleep, snuggled under their quilts and sheets. While discarding her robes for pajamas, she heard a loud snort and glanced over to see her best friend, Kahlynn Roster with her tongue hanging out, every now and then letting off a loud grunt. Irene shook her head. Kahlynn always denied any accusations that she was a snorer.
She took her glasses off and sat them beside her wand on the nightstand. Climbing into her warm sheets, Irene felt herself slowly begin to drift off to the peaceful realms of unconsciousness. The last thought that floated through her head was of Remus, their foreheads pressed together, looking deeply into each other’s eyes.
“And…HEAVE!” a voice groaned, and Irene’s eyes flashed open in surprise as she felt a falling sensation. When she realised what was happening, she let out a shriek before flopping onto the floor in a pile of pillows and sheets. A loud “Oof!” echoed around the circular room before many giggles began bubbling up from Irene’s roommates.
She climbed unsteadily to her feet, still wrapped in her covers. She sent death glares to each girl in the room, settling her fierce look on Kahlynn, who was grinning innocently on top of her bed. She was obviously the one who came up with the bright idea to throw Irene unceremoniously from her tranquil slumber. Well, Irene thought, now the girl will find out what an Irish temper really looks like.
She placed a grin on her freckled face, as if actually joining in on their little prank. Kahlynn climbed off the bed and did a small bow to the applause of her roommates. Irene pulled a fake laugh, but when Kahlynn walked toward her for a handshake, Irene whipped up her wand from beside the water basin and took aim. Her best friend’s light green eyes went wide with surprised fear before she let out a scream and charged for the door. She was obviously hoping that since Irene was still in her pajamas, which consisted of only cotton pants and a tank, she would discontinue her chase. She was very much mistaken.
Irene let out a whooping yell as she slammed the door open behind Kahlynn and ran at full speed down the spiralling staircase. Everyone in the Gryffindor Common Room was staring open mouthed in shock at the two sixteen year old girls, who were currently acting worse than the greenest bunch of first years.
Kahlynn leaped over an empty couch with Irene right on her heels. Just as Kahlynn landed her jump, Irene tumbled down on top of her. There were many outraged shrieks as the two girls began rolling around on the floor, pulling hair and scratching arms, laughing all the while.
“Oi! Mahavior! Leave my bird alone! You mad cow!” Sirius Black thrusted an arm into the tangle of arms and legs and pulled Kahlynn out of Irene’s dangerous clutches. Irene stopped thrashing and climbed calmly to her feet, not caring that all the girls were staring at her as though she was a wild banshee, and the boys were goggling at her attire.
Irene pointed at her best friend and said, “You’re lucky that your boy toy was here to save you, or else there would have been hell to pay!” A few people chuckled, and Sirius rolled his eyes as he ensnared Kahlynn’s waist with his arms. A wolf whistle here, an ugly glare there. All part of the Sirius-Kahlynn-Every girl in Hogwarts Triangle, Irene thought. She started to climb the stairs back up to the Girl’s Dormitories before remembering to ask Sirius if Remus had already left. Her response was an “Uh-huh” and many slurpy sounds. They’re bonkers, she giggled to herself as she opened the door to her dormitory.
Sifting through her trunk, she pulled out a rumpled pair of sweats and a pink hoodie. She threw her hair into the sloppiest bun she had ever done and perched her glasses on her nose. No need to look nice when there’s no one here I want to impress, she reasoned.
Irene’s day dragged slowly by. In the morning, she was either walking the halls with Sirius, Peter, and Kahlynn, cursing every Slytherin that their eyes landed on, or visiting James and endearing his moans and groans of how incredibly starved he was, and how he couldn’t wait to taste some of “Lily’s cooking.”
As the afternoon passed, Irene found herself holed up in the Common Room, leafing through a romance novel. Ma has no clue of how addicting these are, Irene thought as she started in on a new chapter. Her mum had sent her the book, saying in her letter that the young woman in the story had no clue of what type of man she needed, and that a hard Irish man would fix all of her problems. Typical Ma, Irene chanted. She’s always said a farmer who could hold his liquor was the right kind of man.
After over an hour of reading, truly a first for Irene, she yawned and put the book down on the small table in front of her, too lazy to walk upstairs and put it in her dormitory. It was getting darker in the Common Room, and the fire had already been lit. And by the sounds coming from Irene’s stomach, dinner was starting. Irene climbed off of the couch and walked down to the Great Hall, which was already packed full of dining students.
As Irene made her way toward Kahlynn, Sirius, and Peter, she noticed that their section of the table definitely looked lonely with the missing presence of Remus and James. She sighed and plopped down next to her friends. Looking straight ahead, she imagined Remus sitting in his place, smiling warmly at her. She felt her cheeks get a tad hot, so she tuned into the conversation Sirius and Peter were holding. As soon as she heard the word Quidditch, though, she went back to daydreaming. Remus was the only one out of the four boys who could carry on a conversation without mentioning a broomstick for over ten minutes.
Dinner was much quieter than it routinely was. Usually, there was much laughter, air-born food, and snorted pumpkin juice. Tonight though, there was just light small talk and the clink of goblets and forks.
Irene leaned against her headboard and came to the conclusion that today had been a total waste. She had dressed like a grumpy old bat, and had barely spoken two words all day. She huffed out a breath and rolled over onto her pillow. She closed her big brown eyes and stayed like that for over twenty minutes before sitting up abruptly. Sleep would not come to her. She let her mind drift, and it quickly settled once again on a certain boy. Suddenly, though, she felt very claustrophobic in her dormitory. Thoughts of Remus made her cheeks and the back of her neck glow red and burn to the touch.
The girl slowly climbed out of bed, being as careful as possible not to wake her roommates. She pulled her nightdress over her head and replaced it with a pair of old Muggle jeans. She had always been accustomed to wearing Muggle clothes, as her Da was a Muggle, being simply an Irish farmer. Slipping on a plain red t-shirt, she jerked her trainers on before grabbing her wand and exiting her dormitory. Her glasses remained on the nightstand.
The Common Room was dark, with only a very faint light from the dying embers in the grate. She gripped her wand tighter and glanced around the empty room. Shadows drifted around the circular room as the drapes swayed and the fire fizzled out. She had the most curious feeling that someone was watching her, and yet she discarded the idea, knowing no one other than herself would be up at such an ungodly hour. Taking a breath, she ducked out the Portrait Hole, ignoring the Fat Lady’s nosy questions. She needed to clear her head.
The halls were silent as a tomb. Every once in a while, Irene could have sworn she heard the scuff of a trainer behind her, but each time when she looked over her shoulder, all that met her eyes was air.
When Irene eased open the front doors, a blast of cool wind blew her hair back away from her face. A full moon glowed down over her, bathing the grounds in a heavenly light. She could see across the entire lake by the light of the moon, and she slowly began to make her way down to the shore.
The water was lapping gently and a soft breeze tugged Irene along. She could feel herself cooling down and relaxing in the warm spring air. When Irene reached the water, she flopped down onto the long damp grass and let her thoughts run.
Remus. Remus Lupin, Gryffindor Prefect, one of the top students in their class, favourite of all the Professors. He was handsome and quiet, one of the few boys of his age that didn’t act immature or goggle at every girl that passed. Remus was a boy who spoke softly and always thought before he opened his mouth. He had large hands that were usually occupied by a book or quill. He moved with grace, never hurrying or in a rush. The boy was tired all the time, but this didn’t seem to affect him in any way or form. Many girls referred to him as refined and handsome when he walked past, and were appalled when Irene corrected them to say that Remus was an oblivious git. She always got a good chuckle out of that.
“He would never notice that I’m attracted to him, either,” Irene mused out loud. The musical chirping of crickets was the only reply she received. She sighed and put her head down on her knees.
Suddenly, Irene snapped her head up. There was a noise behind her. It sounded like small animal, but she wasn’t sure. Slowly, Irene turned her head over her shoulder and watched as a large brown rat gave a squeak of fright and whipped its bald tail around. Her body shuddered involuntarily at the long tail as it disappeared. She could hear him slithering as quickly as he could in the opposite direction.
Irene released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She could feel her muscles loosening from their tightened grips. She was so intent on getting her breathing and heart rate down that she didn’t even notice the panting coming from fifty feet behind her.
The redhead was just beginning to breathe easier again when a shiver ran up and down her spine, and she again received the feeling that someone was watching her. Her chest started to pound, and her entire body was pulled tight like a rubber band. Her nails bit into her palm, and she made sure her wand was securely in her right hand before slowly turning around.
The first thing her eyes found in the darkness was a dog. A great, huge dog, with a thick matted coat. His eyes were piercing and gleaming in the night air. The long, red tongue was dripping with saliva, and his teeth were pointed and bared. The dog’s hackles were raised, and he was growling ferociously.
Irene had only one thought on her mind, and that was The Grim. This dog looked so much like the wizard superstition. She had read that, once seen by human eyes, the dog would bring despair and eventually death to his onlooker. She now understood the meaning of being scared to death. She could feel her heart raging a mile a minute in her chest, and her lungs felt obstructed. She couldn’t intake air. She would surely suffocate under the dog’s killing stare.
Then, just as Irene slowly began creeping her way into a standing position, she heard something coming from her right. She saw, from the corner of her eye, a large shadow moving. The dog, she noticed, had its attention directed at whatever the other noise was. She followed his example. And what met her eyes would be a horror she would never forget for as long as she lived.
Standing nearly seven feet away, a monstrosity of a wolf rocked onto his hind legs. He had a brown coat that was streaked throughout with dark grey. His head was flung back to the full moon, and his throat was extended to it. Irene’s heart froze as he let out a wailing note, which sang across the grounds. He continued his sorrowful tune for what felt like ages before coming back down onto all four paws, his glowing eyes fixated on Irene. If it wasn’t for the eyes, Irene was certain he would be no more than a shadow in the moonlight.
She couldn’t move a muscle. Try as she might, her legs were stuck into the ground, and no matter how much her brain screamed at her to move, her body would not compensate. She began to shake uncontrollably as she stared into the yellow depths of the wolf’s eyes. They pulled her in; made her feel trapped in their evil shine. They were hungry.
Just then, a realization hit Irene. This wasn’t an ordinary wolf. Wolves did not grow to become this large, nor did they ever get so close to humans. There was only one other option, and that was what spurred Irene to turn her back and begin running as she had never in her life ever run before. That creature was a werewolf.
Behind her, Irene could hear heavy paws thundering over the damp ground. She could see a black ball of fur streak past her, and she remembered the dog that looked so much like The Grim. She didn’t think that it was a coincidence that the werewolf appeared the moment after she had laid eyes on the black demon-dog.
A yelp echoed around Irene as she sprinted past the Whomping Willow. Looking back over her shoulder, she could see two canine forms entangled in each other, snarling fiercely and snapping jaws. She found it odd that the Grim-dog was fighting with the werewolf, but she thought nothing of it as she charged on. She was having a hard time drawing breath and her legs felt like molten lead. She knew she wasn’t getting far away fast enough.
The ground seemed to shake as one of the mammals slammed into the ground with much force. Irene stopped for the smallest of seconds to see who had won the match between the two horrors. Her eyes met yellow.
The redhead whipped around and began hurtling to the castle. She had to reach the front doors in time, and she hoped to God that one of the teachers hadn’t locked them. She could hear heavy panting and footfalls thundering behind her. She was gasping on the air around her as her muscles screamed in protest. She was just passing the greenhouses, a blur of red hair and wild eyes. Yet, she wasn’t running fast enough, for the werewolf was steadily gaining on her. She could feel him getting closer and closer, and sense his putrid, snarling breath. She felt his eyes piercing through her very soul, as if they could suck the life right out of her.
Irene began screaming at the top of her lungs as she neared the courtyard, praying that someone would hear her and alert a teacher. She knew that the werewolf was bound to catch her before she reached the castle, for she could sense how far his lunges were, and they were overtaking her small steps by leaps and bounds. Irene’s feet pounded over the cobbled courtyard, tears streaming down her face as she exerted her lungs to their fullest strength. Just as she passed the bubbling fountain, the werewolf caught up with her.
The werewolf pushed off with his giant haunches and flew through the air, landing against Irene’s back. She yelled and fell beneath his huge paws, each of which had five toes instead of four. Her fragile body crushed against the stones under her. His breath was ragged against her neck, saliva dripping across her skin. She hurtled her small frame sideways, and the werewolf fell to the ground beside her. Irene aimed her wand at him for the first time and yelled, “Stupefy!”
She longed to see the red beam of light hitting the werewolf square in the chest, to see his body fly ten feet away from her and sprawl out, unconscious. All that met her eyes, though, was a nimble werewolf dodging the light that swiftly came at him. He bared his yellow teeth at her, which were marked with red stains from the Grim-dog that was left behind them.
Irene hurtled to her feet and backed away as the brown werewolf stealthily approached her, kneeling his head down in a hunting position. She thrusted out her wand again, prepared to try to stun him, when he leaped from his crouched pose. Before Irene even had a chance for the incantation to pass her lips, the werewolf’s jaw had clamped down upon her right arm.
Irene screamed louder than she had ever screamed before, for this was a type of pain she had never felt. Large jaws sawed at her arm, burying two-inch long teeth deep into her skin. He crunched down on the bone, and she could feel it splinter and break beneath his vice-like grip.
Irene could feel herself slowly losing consciousness. Blood was flowing everywhere from the werewolf’s mouth. He smelled of rot. There was crimson liquid everywhere. On his snout, on her body, and across the stones. She gazed into his eyes in a transfixed horror as he mauled her arm. She could feel every bone groaning and snapping against his teeth. The pain was unbelievable. Yet, there was nothing she could do besides scream. Her wand had fallen when the werewolf had enclosed his monstrous jaw onto her arm. She knew it was mutilated.
Suddenly, a black dog reared onto the werewolf’s back, dragging him to the floor. This resulted in Irene being flung onto the ground as well, for the werewolf wasn’t letting go of his prey. She felt as if she was going to die, right there, lying against the stones.
The Grim-dog then took a hold of the werewolf’s neck and yanked back with all the strength he possessed. The werewolf dropped Irene’s arm and turned to face his new opponent. Irene couldn’t even bring herself to look at her arm, for she knew it was probably damaged beyond repair. As blackness began to settle along the corners of her vision, she prayed someone would soon find her before the werewolf came back.
The last thing that drifted across her maddened mind before the blackness fully claimed her for its own was ‘Remus.’