XIII Transformation (Death)
Beauty and the Beast
(Remus*Tonks; dedicated to Liza Pluijter Izquierdo *happy birthday, senpai!*)
After all, a rose by any other name would smell as sweetly.
After all, Cromwell wished to be portrayed warts and all.
A pretty face and shapely limbs don't count as much
as a rapier wit and a heart of gold,
whether it's a frog, a dragon, a bear-serker...
In my case, it was a werewolf.
Pretty obvious from the get-go,
after all, what should one Remus Lupin become when he came of age?
And then there was Yours Truly,
the half-blood, the outsider, the rebel,
who hated her given name and preferred being called
by her late father's surname,
the surname her maternal family, her father's in-laws, hated
due to a Black maiden's whim of marrying an inferior for love.
And of course they hated Mum and me as coldly,
as harshly.
A disowned widow and her blood-traitor child, burned off the family tree.
A disowned widow and her blood-traitor child, burned off the family tree.
So we had always been Mrs. and Miss Tonks;
it was a protest.
But my hair has never been.
In fact, it already shifted colours in the cradle, Mum said.
A sign that I was meant for better things;
that peculiar, unusual, quirky girl
who lacked the discipline, but who had the pluck,
and the noble heart,
and the clever mind.
Even though she was louder than a storm
and often stomped the grass to shake the ground...
my feelings made my hair and features change, at first on whims,
then at will... the only thing I could control.
Never part of any crowd,
with her head up on some cloud...
and, behind that fair façade,
they were afraid I was odd...
a girl that's strange but special - strange and special...
And then there was the beast...
the one who cried for the moon,
threatened by shadows at night
and exposed to the full moon's light,
you wore down your welcome with random precision;
it had never been your fault, Remus,
and you still had to suffer all your life...
constantly drinking from your flask, a sip now, a sip more...
A lush and a bohemian at first sight,
deep within someone wilder,
as uncontrolled as me...
both a little scared,
neither one prepared
for what chance would have in store,
one day more...
another day, a common destiny...
both of us looked beyond appearances and prejudice,
and gave one another our hearts
without any fear,
even though I was expecting
and worried that the stigma would brand us three
in the cruel storm of war
(if it's a girl, Hope; if it's a boy, Edward)...
we parted with the dark warrioress on our heels,
hell-bent on spilling all our tainted blood...
they called you a craven for leaving me
while I was expecting and hunted down
--I understand your painful anxiety;
what if the child would pay
for our same innocent sins?--
You merely had time to cradle Teddy in your arms
ere you left for the war front,
leaving me to recover and care for the little one...
(a werewolf? a shapeshifter?)
Just as I now have left Teddy, Edward,
with his granny Andromeda...
keep him safe, Mum,
raise him right,
tell him his parents were outsiders, yet heroes...
for I'm going into the breach;
I last heard that Remus was struck down by that Russian,
that Dolokhov's Avada Kedavra hit him in the chest
and poor Remus fell backwards, with a peaceful smile,
my name dying through his pale, parted lips...
(My first name or surname?)
Both a little scared,
neither one prepared,
tale as old as time,
song as old as rhyme...
If there is an afterlife,
he needn't wait any longer!
I will give my all on the frontline
--life, limbs, blood, pluck--
and breathe my last by your side,
and we'll bask in the shadow of yesterday's triumph,
together for evermore.
But my hair has never been.
In fact, it already shifted colours in the cradle, Mum said.
A sign that I was meant for better things;
that peculiar, unusual, quirky girl
who lacked the discipline, but who had the pluck,
and the noble heart,
and the clever mind.
Even though she was louder than a storm
and often stomped the grass to shake the ground...
my feelings made my hair and features change, at first on whims,
then at will... the only thing I could control.
Never part of any crowd,
with her head up on some cloud...
and, behind that fair façade,
they were afraid I was odd...
a girl that's strange but special - strange and special...
And then there was the beast...
the one who cried for the moon,
threatened by shadows at night
and exposed to the full moon's light,
you wore down your welcome with random precision;
it had never been your fault, Remus,
and you still had to suffer all your life...
constantly drinking from your flask, a sip now, a sip more...
A lush and a bohemian at first sight,
deep within someone wilder,
as uncontrolled as me...
both a little scared,
neither one prepared
for what chance would have in store,
one day more...
another day, a common destiny...
both of us looked beyond appearances and prejudice,
and gave one another our hearts
without any fear,
even though I was expecting
and worried that the stigma would brand us three
in the cruel storm of war
(if it's a girl, Hope; if it's a boy, Edward)...
we parted with the dark warrioress on our heels,
hell-bent on spilling all our tainted blood...
they called you a craven for leaving me
while I was expecting and hunted down
--I understand your painful anxiety;
what if the child would pay
for our same innocent sins?--
You merely had time to cradle Teddy in your arms
ere you left for the war front,
leaving me to recover and care for the little one...
(a werewolf? a shapeshifter?)
Just as I now have left Teddy, Edward,
with his granny Andromeda...
keep him safe, Mum,
raise him right,
tell him his parents were outsiders, yet heroes...
for I'm going into the breach;
I last heard that Remus was struck down by that Russian,
that Dolokhov's Avada Kedavra hit him in the chest
and poor Remus fell backwards, with a peaceful smile,
my name dying through his pale, parted lips...
(My first name or surname?)
Both a little scared,
neither one prepared,
tale as old as time,
song as old as rhyme...
If there is an afterlife,
he needn't wait any longer!
I will give my all on the frontline
--life, limbs, blood, pluck--
and breathe my last by your side,
and we'll bask in the shadow of yesterday's triumph,
together for evermore.
ANNOTATIONS:
Tonks as Belle and a Werewolf beast; a premise that fits their character arcs like a glove. Bittersweet and strange tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme...
Also, there is speculation over both Moony and the Beast-Prince as monstrous being metaphors for seropositive, so was it by utter chance that this bunny just popped up in me as soon as I realised the tale the roulette had picked?
Also, four for death. I'm not tetraphobic, but is it by chance that this should be the fourth day of the calendar?
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