Life choices (Remus Lupin Marauders era)

Chapter 38

Immy's POV

I wait nervously for him in the bathroom, picking out nonexistent dirt from underneath my stubby nails. I tend to subconsciously bite them down to the skin when I'm nervous, a habit I'm not proud of. I try to find motivation to keep them growing by painting them with my sister, but in the end, my worries always win and my nails return to their normal state.

I'm thankful that, for once, Myrtle hasn't shown up, she can be nice but only in small doses. I wouldn't want to have her constantly next to me, especially in a time like this. In my opinion, she's misunderstood and fairly nice, but others seem to be too wrapped up in their own image to see that.

I lean over the edge of the porcelain sink, taking some deep breaths to try and cleanse my aura before I go headfirst into this situation. It doesn't seem to work, but I continue on anyway as it keeps me focused on something trivial.

"You? You brought me here?"

The sound of his shocked, accusing words make me whip around in shock. My wild hair ungracefully sticks to my lip balm, making me awkwardly try to brush it away before he continues talking and I look like a deranged idiot.

He takes a cautious step closer to me and I instinctively shrink back in fear.

"Why?"

Such a simple word, and yet it has so much hidden behind it, waiting to be let loose. It is one of the most asked questions in the world, but still it struck me with a sudden terror that I'd never quite understood before now.

I think you know.

He stiffens and looks down at the worn out flagstones in shame.

"Why aren't you running? I'm a monster. I'm a werewolf." He mumbles, biting his lip in fear.

I straighten my back and take a step closer, shutting my eyes slightly and biting the inside of my cheek. His warm, calloused fingertips suddenly touch my temple, trailing across my jaw and making me take another step back.

My wand shakes in my hand slightly as I take a deep breath in.

I'm more like you than you realise.

"You're a werewolf?"

Not exactly. My breathing becomes shallow, not wanting to write the word outright.

"Then what? Banshee? You're clearly not part giant. So?" He begins to become agitated, scratching the back of his head and running his hand along his jeans. "So, part mermaid? Part faerie? Siren?"

I close my eyes again and silently mouth the word to myself.

"No. No you're not. You can't be."

His voice cracks and I can feel him walking away from me. I look up and he seems to hold a sense of betrayal in his eyes.

"Please tell me you're joking. That this is just some sick, twisted way of getting me back from everything I've done."

But, if you look at it this way, we're alike, we-

"I am nothing like you." He spits in fear and anger.

I look deeply into his eyes and silently plead with him to hear me out, to listen to what I have to say. Or write.

"Please don't."

No, I swear I -

He backs slowly away from me and I resist the urge to reach out to him.