thoughts of a dry brain in a wet season - [HP/Tsubasa] And Then There Were Two, 1/1.

edit: YES, it was MEANT to be annoyingly cute in spots. I suck! Bite me!

So I'm out with JY, who's a Snape and Lupin fangirl, not necessarily together, one day early this year. And we're talking about Tsubasa while waiting for the train, and if I remember aright she got round to mentioning that Syaoran v.Tsubasa was disgustingly similar to Remus (history! Brown! Wolves! Solemn quiet serious bookworm with handicap!), or I did, and then she said she'd like to see a Tsubasa/HP crossover and I said I'd try. ('Try' being the objective word.)

So I take that as an excuse to run away with fluff - not that my brain is capable of generating much beyond that at this point in time. Serious Dark Angsty HP fic was out because I have more sense than that and she does it too well for me to imitate. The plausibility of this is dubious and I'm afraid I don't care. WOLVES! Ahaha.

This is, hands-down, the strangest thing I've written since that Yami/Tokyo Babylon x-over way back when I still wrote in purple prose and messed Subaru up like a banana in the grinder. Now, I obviously don't know much about Remus Lupin, nor can I write him the way she can (to sample the goodness of her gen HP fic, including one of the best Snapes you'll find in the morass of HP fandom, go here), and I do not actually expect her to agree with anything I've said about him in this story, which is a bricolage of mangled timelines and half-baked impressions of HP characters - but I still hope she'll like it (and really, truly, it is ok if she does not, though I don't expect her to actually tell me if that happens.)

Also, I apologise to her for the Sirius cameo, but technically it could masquerade as gen koffkoff and I make no apologies for shamelessly fangirling S/R even if he's keelt now.

A very happy birthday and all my love - wish I could do more.


For Jieying, October 21 2004

And Then There Were Two
-----------------------------

Werewolf
=======

The Sorting Hat was emphatic in its decision. The new boy joined Gryffindor in the second term of their fourth year.

He should have been conspicuous: a transfer student, and a foreigner besides; one whose name most people couldn't pronounce properly, settling for Hi You or some variant thereof, and whose careful, stilted syllables of English sometimes needed effort to comprehend. But he attracted far less attention than he should have. Certainly it only took a couple of weeks before he could enter a room without drawing a fusillade of curious glances.

A queer fish, Remus thought.

The new boy was small - an inch or two under Peter's height, and painfully thin ("Makes you look *fat*, Moony," Sirius had emotionally whispered during the special Assembly called, making James and Peter gurgle). But the slight build was wiry and concealed trigger reflexes, as a couple of Slytherin thugs attempting to assault him found out the hard way. In a few seconds *both* of them were smashed into the floor with a foot on their backs. Like a whiplash, thought Remus, or a flare of flame. That was the best way to describe the burst of energy with which he had defended himself: quick, furious, yet snuffed the instant his opponents went down.

(This incident predictably resulted in a goggling rash of ruminations about dynastic wizard-pugilists of the Orient, all strenuously denied by the furiously embarrassed Oriental in question.)

He tended to keep aside and spoke little, but his manner was suffused with gentle civility. In the first week there had been occasions of amazement and mirth when people had variously been addressed as 'Mr.' or 'Ms.' with a perfectly serious mien. After it turned out that the titles were translations of honorifics in his language, he had with some difficulty been persuaded to drop them; he insisted, however, on bowing to the rather bemused teachers at the start and end of lessons. The girls, at least, were charmed ("If he was a little taller, well..." was a common refrain in the dormitories, according to Lily).

"The wonders of cultural exchange," Dumbledore peaceably told the school one supper, "are a rare and manifold opportunity to experience in our world. I expect all of you to embrace such new influences."

("That's a trifle," Peter helpfully informed the new boy, who gingerly prodded the heaving mass of creamy jelly with his fork, blinked, and discreetly chose to ignore it.)

----

He was always reading. The Gryffindor common room grew accustomed to seeing him huddled in a chair with ponderous, slightly mildewed tomes.

The punctilious folds of his robes were at distressing odds with the shaggy mop falling over his brows.

Remus felt, with irrational and incomprehensible conviction, that he liked him.

"Oh come on, Remus, you like *anyone* who likes books."
"...That's exaggerating."
"Well. You like Snape."
"Yeah. Tolerating's the same as liking with *that* git."
"Even Peter's nodding. Majority wins."

So Sirius had the last word, and Remus privately had to admit that it wasn't too much of a stretch. He *did* feel a wave of friendliness for the small, serious figure - usually seen hunched over a large book in the library, absently brushing away thick bangs when they tickled his eyes.

----

The boy looked up as he approached, and nodded politely.

Remus smiled, pointing to the cover. "That's a really interesting book."

The smile was returned, a quick upward curve of the boy's mouth. "I am glad I can read it without a dictionary."

"You're too modest," Remus told him. "Your English is as good as anyone's here. Better than some, in fact."

"But languages also must be spoken." His voice was tinted with rue.

"If it comes to that," Remus said, "nobody here can speak yours."

"I am sure you could pick it up quickly -" and, Remus noted in amusement, there was a falter as he bit off the honorific, "- Lupin."

"I'd like to learn, if you wouldn't mind teaching - Showron?"

"Syaoran."

"I'm sorry. Yes."

A pause, while they both considered each other's feet.

"If I might ask," Remus said at length, "- what does your name mean?"

Brown eyes met Remus' gaze, deep and clear. 

"Small Wolf."

----

Coincidences, Remus told himself, were coincidences. Nothing more. The boy was perfectly normal - a full moon was past, and he'd shown no telltale signs - no haggard, livid-faced mornings, no unaccountable scars, at least not any that were visible. And he'd said nothing beyond a few desultory words of concern when Remus had exited Madam Pomfrey's with a bandaged hand.

So he wasn't facing a fellow sufferer, and his secret was - very likely - still one.

"Well," he heard himself say casually, blandly, "there's a couple of other good books related to that one. I should be glad to point them out if you'd like."

"I would be very grateful," Syaoran said, and bowed his head slightly with a faint smile.

Remus wondered, irrelevantly, if Oriental werewolves were any different from Western ones.

----

Small Wolf
========

Lupin-san - it proved impossible to completely sever the addition of honorifics; mentally, at least, he retained them - Lupin-san was nice. So was that girl with the red hair who sometimes talked to Lupin-san, the one whose clear voice and bright green eyes reminded him of Sakura-hime.

But it was Lupin-san who did the most to put him at ease in this huge stone castle, with its shifting staircases and itinerant ghosts. By now Syaoran was used to living in foreign lands, but after having experienced only the gentle pressure of Yukito-san's aura it took effort to acclimatise to a place where *everyone* pulsed with latent magical energy. Lupin-san, who knew a great deal about Wizardry (this people's term for their magic, and, he supposed, the flame-spirit that gave him power), helped unknot academic tangles, offered tips on wand usage, and never minded answering questions. And he knew the best books to read, the really interesting ones that could make him temporarily stop thinking of home; of Sakura-hime's smile; of Fujitaka-san ('Tou-san, he corrected himself; 'Tou-san), whom he could not join on a research trip to a barbarian land that scalped foreign children. Who had planted him in this school with a smile and the injunction to learn new things.

He could freely discuss books and knowledge with Lupin-san, always receiving thoughtful, serious replies. And he sensed, with gratitude, that Lupin-san also enjoyed their conversations.

Lupin-san had three best friends: one with glasses, one with eyes the colour of an overcast sky, and one who unfortunately reminded Syaoran of a small uncertain rodent. The third one often did homework with Lupin-san and him; the first two affected a careless civility that put Syaoran's nerves on edge. Potter-san had less of this effect on him than Black-san did - there were times when Syaoran could have sworn that Black-san glowered when he saw Lupin-san talking to him.

Syaoran was too polite to say what he thought, but he did ask Lupin-san if he had somehow inadvertently offended Black-san - some cultural misunderstanding, perhaps, and if so Syaoran would be very happy to apologise.

"How utterly ridiculous," Lupin-san replied, after a pause where a queer, resigned look crossed his face. "You've done nothing wrong, so don't fret. Sirius can be a - well, anyway, he takes some time to know."

If only Black-san could meet Touya-ousama, Syaoran thought. Surely the shared traits of being big and dark and growly would make them instant friends.

There was another person Lupin-san sometimes talked to: a boy with lank black hair, unpleasantly pale skin and a name that sounded like the English 'snake'. He wasn't very popular with Potter-san and the rest, and didn't return even Lupin-san's civil overtures. Syaoran, for his part, only wished Snape-san's eyes didn't make him think of black holes.

Lupin-san was for the most part a quiet, kind person, but Syaoran had seen a feral spark of gold flash in his eyes on the rare occasions he got angry (it usually concerned Potter-san and Black-san and what Lupin-san called 'their insufferable puerility').

That spark, Syaoran thought, fitted very well with *that* aspect of Lupin-san.

(It was a relief to know he got treatment after full moons.)

----

"Syaoran," Lupin-san said to him one day, "just call me Remus, please."

Of course, he replied, and ventured a smile.

Lupin - no, Remus-san smiled back, and said, a little awkwardly, that using first names made things easier. What and how things became easier Syaoran did not know, and did not think of asking.

----

Wolf's Brother
==========

A sigh. The edge of Remus's parchment lifted slightly.

Remus raised a brow in his companion's direction. Sirius eyed his quill in baneful silence, and Remus turned back to his essay again, waiting.

Another sigh, accompanied by an impatient half-growl in the back of Sirius' throat. Abruptly he flung down his quill and tilted his chair back till it bumped the wall.

Remus finished the last sentence of the second-to-last paragraph he was writing - a rather tricky assignment for McGonagall, involving the finer points of Transfiguring amphibians - and raised both brows in the direction of the tilted chair. It creaked precariously as Sirius leaned all his weight onto its two back legs.

"We're not very happy today, Mr. Black."

The chair groaned in agreement.

Remus rested his cheek on the back of his hand. "Not that it's any of my business, of course, but then it's also not very nice when Mr. Black's friend can't study because Mr. Black's being a prat. *Especially* when Mr. Black bothered to engage said friend for that specific purpose."

Assorted creaks resulted. Then Sirius rocked the chair back to its proper position with a thud that brought irritated "shhhs" from neighbouring tables like steam-spurts escaping kettle spouts, and raked his hair back with rough fingers - lately he'd let it grow long, Remus noticed, in a demonstration of moodiness.

"Remus," he said at last.

Remus waited.

"...How come that skinny git isn't here today?"

"If you mean Syaoran," Remus said with cold and perfect equanimity, "I believe he's currently having tea with Dumbledore."

Sirius opened his mouth, blinked, and shut it with a faint grimace.

It's *always* difficult with Remus, he thought sourly. Bugger him. And bugger that Showron kid, too.

(That was as far as Sirius would reason it out to himself. He couldn't - or didn't want to - probe the cloud of irritation clogging his gut like a yellow-green miasma; all he really knew was that the mental image of That Git sitting at a table like this beside Remus, two brown heads bent over scrolls and books in soft, serious conversation, felt like the mental equivalent of an unreachable itch. It was a familiar sight by now. James, bugger him as well, had said rather patronisingly that Remus was *like* that, Remus' mates should be used to it already and That Git wasn't too bad anyway, or if you want to we could come up with a nice jinx for him? His words had fallen on Sirius' ears with all the force of a passing breeze.)

He looked up, and Remus was still watching him, pale cheek propped on the backs of pale fingers.

Sirius exhaled, flexing his knuckles.

"I was just thinking," he said a touch jerkily, twisting his mouth into a smile, "that you really are the scholar, after all, aren't you? I mean. Great to have friends who like what you like, I suppose."

There was a pause.

There was a faint rustle.

Sirius glanced at Remus, and saw that his friend was digging in the pockets of his robes for something. After a few moments he emerged with a Chocolate Frog which he held out to Sirius.

"Moony," Sirius said at last.

"The last I've got," Remus said, picking up his quill without looking at Sirius. "Great to have friends I'll give it to."

Sirius wordlessly accepted it, hearing the foil packet crackle as he removed it from Remus' surprisingly warm fingers.

(And did not question the sudden lump in his throat.) 

----

Two Wolves
=========

Syaoran blinked up at the whitewashed ceiling of the Hospital Wing, and gingerly turned his head from side to side. It felt astoundingly better. He didn't know what the kind, middle-aged witch (Pomfrey-sensei, his memory supplied a beat later) had done, but she'd certainly healed him thoroughly. A faint throbbing in his neck was all that remained of his fracture.

Quidditch, he supposed, was not the best sport for people with impaired vision. But he'd tried, and it *had* been wonderful to have the wind whistling in his ears as he'd swooped across the sky. I'm *flying*, he'd told himself in exhilaration, I'm flying. And then he'd thought of Sakura-hime, and wished she could have been here, too, speeding through space without wings.

Things got uncertain after that. He only remembered a big and foul-smelling boy dressed in silver-striped green robes careening with surprising noiselessness from the right; a moment's panic had cost him the control of his broom, and he'd crashed through space, dimly hearing yells rush past his ears; the green mat of the turf had come careening up to him, and then an explosion of pain had flooded his world black.

"Feeling all right, aren't you, dear?" He blinked again; Madam Pomfrey had bustled up to his bedside, beaming down at him. "Nasty accident you had there. Those Slytherins always play rough, but Professor McGonagall will see they're punished, don't you worry."

"Oh," Syaoran managed, and tried to sound appreciative.

"You really should have told us about that right eye, you know," Madam Pomfrey said severely. "It was *most* remiss of you. In future you'll not be playing in matches again."

"I didn't think of it," Syaoran said honestly.

There was a creak as the door opened and Remus popped his head in. "Madam Pomfrey? Is he allowed visitors?"

"Not for too long." With a nod to Remus, she bustled off to another part of the wing.

Remus perched on the side on his bed. "Feeling better?"

"Entirely." Syaoran pushed himself up. "Thank you for coming."

"James and the rest of the team send their regards," Remus told him. "They won."

"That's good," Syaoran said. He could tell that Quidditch meant a lot to the boys who played it.

"Syaoran," Remus said after a pause. "Why didn't you *say* anything about this?"

"I didn't think of it," Syaoran said honestly.

"Everyone was appalled to find out you were flying with a blind eye."

Syaoran stared at the whitewashed ceiling. There was, he noticed, a crack where the paint was starting to peel.

"I didn't think of it," he said for the third time that day, more to himself than to Remus. He looked up, and offered a smile. "Doesn't everyone hide something?"

"But," Remus said reproachfully, "you could have been killed."

"But," Syaoran said patiently, "it's not more serious than your condition, Remus."

Remus froze, turning pale. "What?"

Syaoran looked at him in confusion. "Your - I mean, you are -"

"Don't!" Remus interrupted, his voice shaky. "You mean - you *know* that-"

"I know what happens to you at the full moon," Syaoran said, very quietly. "Yes."

There was a strained silence. Remus brought his lips together in a taut white line, and studied his hands. Syaoran watched him tentatively, unsure what distress he'd caused his friend. Of course Remus-san's condition was no fit topic for conversation, but he'd thought - after all, no one ever said anything, not even when Remus-san came out of the Hospital Wing after every full moon looking so drained and haggard...

"*How* did you find out?" Remus finally asked, his voice flat.

"The hairiness," Syaoran said. "The - the flux in your spiritual aura every full moon - I can feel it. And you go away during that time and then you come back looking so exhausted. And I *have* known werewolves before; my father introduced me to a couple on one of our journeys together. So it was possible to guess, once I observed you."

He was, Remus thought with near-hysterical wryness, speaking of it as if they had been discussing homework.

"And you aren't afraid?" Remus asked in a low voice.

"No," Syaoran replied in surprise. Remus still looked upset, so he added, "Not when you're more afraid than anyone else is of hurting anyone. Isn't that why you go away when it - happens?"

A pause, while they both considered each other's feet.

"Thank you," Remus eventually said.

"Remus-san," Syaoran said, attaching the honorific in his earnestness, "please, don't feel sad because of this. I don't think it affects who you *are*."

"If only everyone thought like you did," Remus said with forced cheer. "But thank you - thank you more than I can say for accepting this. Has anyone ever told you how brave you are, Syaoran?"

Syaoran shook his head. "You're braver than I am, Remus-san, to live the way you do."

"Then the feeling is mutual." The shadow suddenly passed from Remus' eyes, and he smiled, holding a hand out. "Shake."

Syaoran gripped his hand, and for a moment no words were needed.

----

"After you go back," Remus later tells him, "remember to write."

Sakura-hime, Syaoran thinks. He will tell her all about Remus-san and Hogwarts when he returns; there will be stories enough to keep her happy for months. And this thought alone is enough to make him smile.

====

p.s. - much rabu to Meg for giving a quickie nod of beta approval.