Diaries of a Broken Wolf

Diaries of a Broken Wolf
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter, nor do i have any rights to them. I just like to make them fuck ^__^

As the headmaster said his last congratulatory words, caps of different, respective house colors were tossed into the air. Various cheers and laughs, hollers and tears of joy were voiced from the graduating class of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

After seven trying, laborious, yet content years of school James, Sirius, Peter, and I were free from the iron clutches of education. We all exchanged hugs, pats on the back and wide grins. All of us were able to pass, James and Sirius barely scraping by, Peter having done sufficiently and I had excelled.

“Let’s go celebrate!” chirped James, wrapping a friendly arm around Sirius over his shoulders. Sirius chortled, swaying due to the added wait to his back.

Peter turned to me, smiling widely at me, his eyes forced closed by chubby cheeks. I gave a sincere giggle in response and we all herded off to the Gryffindor common room.

The common room, clad in gold and scarlet, was a bustling mess of students. The graduation is commenced during the day, around 3 in the afternoon. Afterward the younger students return to class while the newly graduated ones have a small going away party in their particular common rooms.

James didn’t mind the crowd but the rest of us did, so we retreated to our personal room to party. “Looky what I swiped from the kitchen!” James jeered, pulling out a bottle of wine. We passed the bottle around, each boy taking generous slugs. Sirius was sitting next to me, across from Peter and near James. We had a usual trend to our personal seating preference; Sirius next to me or James, me next to Sirius or Peter, James next to Peter or Sirius. I was never next to James and Sirius was never next to Peter, they just didn’t get along. I liked him because he was intelligent to a degree and we could scour up good conversations. And I sat next to Sirius because...well I never could explain that.

The bottle was drained and tossed away, forgotten and exiled from our drunken haze. Peter ended up passed out, James was laughing uncontrollably and Sirius was crying. Honestly I can’t quite recall what I was acting like, perhaps giddy or maybe even depressed. I never could hold my liquor.

“Prongs!” I called, “Stop poking Wormtail, he’s sleeping!”

James had gotten into a fun game of ‘poke the rat’ and it was highly amusing to him and only him. His wand kept jabbing Peter in the gut, causing him to groan unconsciously. Almost as abruptly as he had begun, James stopped. For a moment I was frightened, thinking that he has cursed himself because he was using his wand so abusively. But then he just toppled over and started snoring away, like it was the middle of the night.

Relieved, I turned my attention back to Sirius who had draped himself over my shoulders with both arms, his face nuzzled into the nape of my neck. I felt my body betray me, my groin tightening from his intimate touch. I wasn’t embarrassed but felt that I shouldn’t act on it, thought my drunkenness wasn’t helping my decision making process.

“I’m gonna miss you most of all Moony, you’re my BEST friend!” Sirius shouted into my ear. I recoiled and we toppled over into an intoxicated heap. “I don’t want you to go, come live with me?”

When he asked this he looked up at me, eyes unsteady but entirely serious. “We’ll talk about it when we aren’t drunk, ok?” For some reason that look brought me down to reality, I believe it might’ve actually shocked me into sobriety.

Soon I heard him snoring, his body still blanketed over mine. I pat him on the head and laid my head down on the floor, “Of course I’ll live with you my friend, of course...” And I too drifted off...

Following that we all went out separate ways. James decided to go to London, where his girlfriend and soon to be wife, wanted to live. Peter went into obscurity, not keeping contact with any of us in the slightest. And finally, Sirius and I found a small cottage in the woods outside of Liverpool.

Being wizards, we didn’t really need to have jobs or money since we could create anything on a whim. And Sirius being part of the notorious and wealthy Black family, we could get cash easily. But I decided to work in a quaint little bookstore in a nearby town. Sirius became a guard dog...oddly enough. He was supposed to be my pet and I was to bring him to the building that he worked at, but mysteriously he showed up on his own, ownerless, everytime.

Obviously, I had taken Sirius up on his offer. Nothing would’ve pleased me more than to be released into the world and have a good friend to rely on. It also didn’t hurt that he helped me with my werewolf problem and I didn’t believe that I was ever healthier.

One day when we were walking home together from our jobs, we came across an ice creams shop. “Let’s get some ice cream!” he suggested, snagging my arm and dragging me in.

I got one scoop of coffee. He sneered at me, mumbling something about coffee being nasty. He got strawberry. We sat at a long legged table, surrounded by 3 tall stools. I licked idly at my ice cream, staring out the window at the passerbys. Most people would’ve seen this languid action as discontent or boredom, but Sirius knew better. He accepted my leisurely attitude to the suburbs as normal behavior.

I changed my view, glancing at my companion eating his ice cream. His face held a jaunty, pleased twist to it as he chewed on his cold treat. Yes, chewed. Strongly, I was reminded of a dog trying to comprehend how to eat a grape. He rolled the ice cream over his tongue; decided it was too cold for that, then proceeded to gnaw lightly on it. It wasn’t discreet chewing, but open jawed, clumsy gnashing of the teeth.

The ice cream would then melt under his teeth, not due to the chewing but because his mouth was hot with his breath. He would then don a confused expression for a second, almost as if he didn’t quite understand the concept of melting, as if his ice cream were solid like meat. And the cycle would begin again. It’s sufficient to say it takes Sirius a long time to eat ice cream.

He caught me watching and only smiled back at me. His eyes glimmered with amusement, as if they were so reflective that they showed off what I imagined my eyes looked like. Sticking his tongue out at me, he took another great chunk of his dessert. Suddenly his eyes screwed tight and he moaned in pain. My heart stirred in my chest and I started to panic until he grunted, “Ah, cold, cold!”

“Ohh...” I sighed in relief and exasperation. This man will give me a heart attack someday. “Come on, you prat, we’re leaving.” I snatched his arm from across the table and almost lugged him over it.

On the street we walked briskly, past the people staring, past women giggling and men giving unpleasant groans. I didn’t realize I was still holding onto him and that we looked suspiciously like a couple. I let go of his hand, but kept going. It’s difficult to say why I felt outraged. Perhaps I was angry that he was being so goofy, or because he scared me half to death. I decided then that it was because of that, because I feared for him. It stretched beyond that day, into days passed and ones to come. He was a guard dog, constantly risking his life for a stranger. He was also a naturally careless and brazen man, acting before thinking.

We left the most populated part of the town and were fast approaching the forest. Some people I had heard gossiping were saying that we lived out there because we were gay and we didn’t want to be disturbed. That sparked interesting questions in my mind like; wouldn’t anyone want privacy? And, don’t a lot of people live in the woods? Do we really look gay? Do we act gay? Am I gay?

That last question caught me off guard one day while I was peeling potatoes. I cut myself because the thought was so immediate, so quizzical, so...life altering. I’m not trying to excuse myself, but I never had time for sex. In-between school, life and being a werewolf, I never thought about it. I though, if I had Sirius, my good companion, then I didn’t need a lover. Or maybe I felt I didn’t need one because I considered him to fill that position.

I spent the week after that concentrating on him, trying to decipher whether I found him attractive. Today was day seven, and I had come to a strange decision. A large part of me wanted him, a small part of me envied him, another obscure part of me needed him, and the largest part of me loved him.

Yes, Sirius Black is sexy, hot and all those things. But I saw his beauty and natural magnetism. This attraction was fueled on by the need, the need to be near him and have him in my life. It was nearly impossible for me to have avoided the attraction when he was the only one close to me. The love sprouted from both of those combined. Wasn’t that all that love is? Attraction and the desire to have them mingled with an underlying sense of need?

But the envy? Why did I envy him? I found that answer in two places. One; he was normal. He was healthy, fit, and normal. He wasn’t cursed like I was, wasn’t doomed like I was. His body was perfect, young, taut, lean and smooth. My body was patterned with scars from my werewolf trysts. Although I never remembered them, I would come home torn worse and worse. I had the predilection that someday I would run out of clean flesh and would become one huge piece of scar tissue, ugly to the core.

Whereas Sirius would remain almost perfect until aging claimed him. That was why I envied him. He had youth until youth’s end; flawless skin until the body started to physically die. My youth started to decay the day I was bitten; my skin tattered from my own doing. I had been dying even while I was growing up.

The second reason I was jealous was he was entirely happy. Happy with himself, with his life, with his food and drink, his hair and his home. Everything. I wanted that more than anything. I desired his clairvoyance to seek his needs and wants to make his life content. I was too cautious and was anxious over every circumstance.
As our little cottage approached I was hit with sudden somberness. If I could be honest with him, and myself then I could change at least one thing, I thought. I opened the door and flopped down in the living room, kicking off my loafers and reaching up to pinch the bridge of my nose with one hand. I realized that I hadn’t even seen where Sirius was or even if he came in with me.

I opened my eyes to see him sitting, elbows composed on his knees, leaning intently towards me, in the chair straight across from my own. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, eyes glaring at me. His eyes reminded me of black lacquer, solid in darkness but with a glassy effect.

I was jarred out of my trance by a warm hand on my knee. I could feel his pulse in it, his body heat spreading over the kneecap and skin through my pants. My gaze rose from his hand on my knee to his eyes again. Those great black pools were begging for me to answer, to alleviate his emotional exacerbation.

Scanning his face I saw nervousness. Why was he nervous? Was he afraid I was upset at him? Or at what I might say? I couldn’t infer it. He was nibbling on his lower lip, his thick but slender black eyebrows were knitted on his brow, and his eyes scoured my face for any possible answer.

He looked absolutely lovely, and it pained me to think so. I knew then that I felt he was handsome no matter what expression he held. Under a power that entirely wasn’t my own, I felt drawn to him then. The urge to ease his suffering rode me, pushing me towards his, then, confused face. It wasn’t the lust I had that drove me, but my need.

Cautiously, as I always am, I pressed my lips to his. It was chaste, gentle, barely discernable, and so very empty. I hadn’t done it for my own pleasure or his. My kiss was one of self-secreted obligation. I was compelled to comfort him because it was my distress that caused his. I also felt that, to kiss him I would be stepping over a roadblock that I had created; digging myself out of the proverbial hole.

As soon as it ended, I got up from my seat and left. I did not flee or run, I just left. Walking normally I exited the room and climbed the stairs, arriving at my own room to shut and lock the door and toss myself onto my bed. I hadn’t stayed to see his reaction. He could’ve been shocked or pleased, angry or sad, I didn’t know.

My heart was screaming out of despair. Hollow tears rolled down my eyes, staining my pillow. I had no broken heart; I hadn’t lost his friendship, at least not yet. Why was I crying? Probably because I couldn’t tell how I felt about it. I wasn’t happy that I kissed him, nor was I sad. All I felt was despair; for myself more than my heart.

The wolf inside me growled, telling me to get back down there and finish what I started. The human inside me told me to never leave my room again. What was I to choose? Primal or Rational?

Clearly I chose what I always do; rational. I stayed in my room for hours. The sun fell and he didn’t come to bother me, he left me to brood. I was still fighting myself, I wanted him to come and I didn’t want him to come. But the biggest part of me wanted him to come, so make sure I was alright, to comfort me. I fell asleep alone...