'where we are now' remus lupin & regulus black

Afraid

"All my friends always lie to me. I know they're thinking, you're too mean, I don't like you. Fuck you anyway, you make me want to scream at the top of my lungs. It hurts but I won't fight you, you suck anyway. You make me want to die, right when I. When I wake up, i'm afraid somebody else might take my place,"

She needs to know.

I realize it two seconds after waking up, as I sit up amongst girls I hardly know and see her bed empty. The notion smacks me in the face again. Iris needs to know that I'm a Werewolf.

For reasons unknown, the guilt of the heavy lie has crashed down on me hard. Then it all starts flooding back and my body reminds me too. It's hard to decipher upcoming full moon symptoms and hangover symptoms. They both feel identically gross.

Remus suggested I spend this full moon with them. With him. I actually might, I can't go through it alone again. I can't survive it. But, I also can't tell the Marauders before my own friends.

The window of my procrastination time has officially closed.

My feet plop against the cold flag-stone floor and I get up to go through my usual wake up routine.

Iris isn't back when I finish brushing my teeth. She isn't back when I manage to rake a brush through my hair. She isn't back when I put on an overly casual outfit. Iris comes back when I'm pacing nervously around the dorm.
Fist balled tightly, nails digging into flesh.

"Fucking hell, Iris! Where have you been—" I cut myself off after one glance at her face.

Swollen, puffy eyes and blotchy red skin.

I remember what she was so ecstatic about yesterday. I knew there was a fifty percent chance this would happen. But being a know-it-all won't fix this.

"Let's go to Hogsmeade, I need a fucking butter-beer."

I nod silently. She doesn't need me to tell her it's 10:30am or ask what's wrong. She needs me to shut up and listen.

I hold my tongue for the whole trip. Inwardly, I sigh, because, I know there is no good way for me to tell her my life altering information when she has her own right now.

"Walk faster," Iris says.

"Sorry."

As we pass through the village, which is mostly empty (save a few enthusiastic younger years), blanketed in dirty snow and slush, I cast a warming charm on us both.

I can't focus on the dirty snow—focus on the happy children, my attention returns to the paralyzing fear of the full moon. I should feel horrid that I'm not even trying to process Iris' situation. Selfish.

Instead, my mind reels thinking of all the ways I can tell her without overshadowing. Ways I can tell her so I don't have to be alone again.

The Three Broomsticks is vacant—just opened and Madam Rosmerta scowls upon seeing us. Seconds later she retreats up the stairs.

"Two butter-beers, please," Iris tells the groggy barkeep. She looks at me over her shoulder as he waves his wand around and grunts, getting us started.

"Tell me what's happened," I plead, I can't stop my gaze from flitting around her heartbroken face. The concern is plain on my face.

The barkeep serves up the drinks and I hand him a few sickles. Iris takes the warm mugs and leads us to a corner booth, sliding one against the dingy table to me.

"Tell me," I say again.

Iris drops her eyes from my face, staring at the deep brown table instead. Tracing the dirty grooves with her french-manicured nail. "Just...don't feel the need to take action on my account. I don't think I could stand any more embarrassment." She sighs.