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The moon was almost full. The moon was almost full and Remus could already feel his bones creaking and groaning in suspense - next week, this exact time, Remus would be writhing on the floor, bones popping and bending in some wretched facsimile of their natural (‘natural’ - what a silly word to describe Remus, any part of him) state of being. In his mind’s eye, Remus could picture the Shrieking Shack vividly, down to the aged tree stump growing out of the moldy floorboards, down to the large splinters of wood that once belonged to a chair nailed to the floor (Remus, or rather, Moony, no doubt swiped at it with long, sharp claws and bit that chair to pieces, inevitably turning to his own flesh and blood to devour next - Moony and Remus weren't that dissimilar after all, it seemed - the urge to self destruct seemed to run through both of their veins), down to the dusty window that blurred out that cursed moon from his vision.
Of course, Remus was mostly unaware of the goings on of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs during the full moon - flashes and glimpses of a shining moon, huge, looming trees, and stomping hooves was all that was granted of him to remember - but like clockwork, the full moon, the day, would end with Remus curled up in a bloody ball on the floor, shivering, shaking, and wishing that he were anywhere but there on the hard, unforgiving floor of the Shrieking Shack, wishing that he was anybody but himself.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Remus took a drag of his cigarette and blew smoke into the fresh night air, keeping his eyes on the (almost) full moon. He closed his eyes and tried not to cry. Out of sadness, out of anger, out of chronic exhaustion he felt down to his marrow - he didn’t know. But he knew he was very, very tired, and should probably go to bed and sleep. However, he also knew that any efforts to sleep would be made in vain, and instead of the warm embrace of slumber, he would face the phantoms and haunted memories that constantly whirled around in his brain, falling into sleep hours and hours later only to be woken by the harsh sunlight that would offensively shine through his window.
Remus knew himself. He knew his routine, he knew what he would wake up to, and he knew what he would fall asleep to. He knew that his life would end sooner than the average wizard’s, and he also knew that ever since that fateful night of March 10th, 1965, Remus looked to that eternal rest with a wistful sheen in his eye (he’d never admit that to anyone - although once, on a Hogwarts night of firewhisky and drunken confessions, Remus slurred out something to that effect before realizing what he had done, but luckily the rest of the Marauders paid no heed to the unintelligible mumbles of king swot, currently magnificently inebriated, Remus Lupin).
Remus laid back on the roof of their building, small pebbles and stones painfully digging into his back, and stared at the sky. He couldn’t see any stars; London was far too polluted with the goings-on of London city life for that (they lived barely a hair’s breadth from the city), but if he squinted, he could almost pretend that he could see the constellations scattered across the sky. After some time of gazing heavenward (hours, minutes, Remus didn’t know - he almost checked his father’s old watch before remembering that it had stopped working when Sirius pushed him into the Great Lake on a warm school evening - oh, how Remus longed for simpler days), Remus decided to get up and spare his poor back of any more discomfort, when Sirius bound up the stairwell onto the roof, head swiveling, seemingly looking for someone, stopping short when he saw Remus. He glanced back at the stairs, and then back to Remus with a frown creasing his brow. “Moony,” he said, pale hands running up and down his arms, apparently trying to warm himself, “it’s bloody freezing out here! Come back inside already, I was looking for you.” He blew out a great gust of air and held out his hand for Remus to take. Remus begrudgingly grasped ahold of his hand, knees cracking as he straightened. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”
Sirius rolled his eyes, smirking as he turned, walking down the narrow, dark stairwell and through the door of their apartment, which he had apparently left open, much to Remus’ chagrin (robbers, murderers, dangerous ax-wielding madmen, etc - leaving your door open was basically a formal invitation to such characters). Remus followed him into the apartment, feeling like a lost puppy who had imprinted on an unsuspecting, leather-pant wearing God. Sirius, walking into the kitchen (there were not five steps between the doorway and the meager crawling space that they called a kitchen, so ‘walked’ is a generous word to describe the short journey) smirked at Remus, who sighed in preparation for the monologue he knew Sirius was about to begin.
“Moony, contrary to what you seem to believe, helping you not break your back is in fact not a sign that I see you as an 80 year old man. In fact, one could argue that you think you are an elderly man - your closet has at least 10 sweaters. 10! Owning 10 nearly identical sweaters is not a characteristic of a lively, virile man! You’re young, you’re attractive -”
It was at this point that Remus felt a visceral need to interrupt Sirius from his passionate tirade and interject: “Sirius. ‘Lively’ and ‘virile’ are not words that anybody ever on this planet would use to describe me.” (He decided to ignore the fact that Sirius had just called him attractive.) “You sound like you’re describing a racing horse. Anyway,” he continued, raising his voice as he walked towards his closet to retrieve one of his beloved sweaters, “you attack my sweaters, you attack me. I’m feeling very victimized right now.”
He stepped back into the living room (again, not two steps away from his bedroom - really, it’s a miracle the place had two bedrooms. Admittedly, said bedrooms were only awarded such a label as ‘bedroom’ because they were only slightly too big to be called closets. However, they were altogether much too small to be called bedrooms, so there’s really no point in thinking about it too much - a headache and bad mood would be the only measurable results of doing so) and plopped onto their worn sofa with a book.
Sirius walked (swaggered, more like) over with an excited look on his face. His lips were turned down (Sirius, when trying not to smile, always turned down his lips, but the rest of his face would betray his joyful nature and he’d inevitably end up smiling anyway. Remus always thought that Sirius’ smile must be the most infectious thing on the planet, and didn’t know why he’d ever try to hide it) and was obviously fighting an urge to tell Remus something. Arching his brow, Remus looked back at him expectantly and waited for Sirius to tell him whatever he was thinking. It was a waiting game, at this point.
After a few minutes of pacing back and forth in an apparent attempt at increasing anticipation, Sirius fell into the chair across Remus and exploded into a flurry of noise. He was talking so fast Remus could barely piece out what he was saying (James was the only one who could decipher Sirius-speak), but the words ‘uncle’, ‘apartment’, and ‘funeral’ were discernible among the chaos. Sirius finished talking, clearly disappointed that Remus had a confused look on his face, rather than a gleeful one. “Remus, do you understand what I’m saying? My uncle is dead! We can buy a new apartment now!” Clarity dawned on Remus, and he sat up. “Your uncle died… your Uncle Alphard? The uncle who was shunned?”
Sirius nodded excitedly, “Yes! I never really met him except for at my grandfather’s funeral-”
(Arcturus Black III had stubbornly remained alive, albeit bedridden, but nevertheless alive for 91 miserable years before succumbing to dragon pox. Remus only knew this because Sirius had complained at length at Hogwarts about how his grandfather, who apparently had had a penchant for giving long, mind-numbing lectures on Pureblood superiority. Sirius had verbalized his wish that his grandfather would die many, many times, and upon getting his wish granted years later, had danced around their Gryffindor dormitory with morbid glee, with Remus looking on, worrying for his dear friend’s sanity)
“-but he had seemed like a nice fellow-”
(by nice he meant that dear old Alphard did not look like he regularly used Dark magic - he lacked a certain maniacal glint in his eye)
“-and when I told Walburga so, she slapped me and told me to never interact with him again in any form because he was Mudblood sympathizer scum. So naturally, I always thought of him fondly, and apparently he thought the same of me, because he left me all of his money. Do you understand that, Remus? He was disgustingly rich. He could buy all of the buildings on this block with millions upon millions to spare. He could buy your bookshop and all the books in it and still have money to buy anything else he wanted. We’re rich!”
Remus pasted a happy smile on his face as Sirius kept talking, hiding the conflicting emotions threatening to bubble to the surface. Remus’ pay at the bookshop he worked at was meager. ‘Meager’ was sugarcoating it - his pay was pathetic. The only reason he wasn’t homeless was because Sirius had offered to let Remus move in with him for free (Remus was much too proud for that, however, so they negotiated a very, very low rent on Remus’ part - Sirius made sure it was much lower than Remus was comfortable paying, even as Sirius’ slightly better paying job almost didn’t cover his share of the rent), but if they moved to a bigger, better apartment, the rent would increase, and Remus had no money - all of his money was used on the rent, and occasionally - very occasionally - a paltry number of groceries.
Say what you want about pride - but Remus wasn’t a charity case. He would have to move out and figure out where to live sooner than he thought. Remus decided to bring this up to Sirius tomorrow, not wanting to bring his friend down from his high. “So, Moony, what’d you say? Tomorrow?” Remus was jolted back to the present, realizing he’d missed everything Sirius had said. “Sorry, Padfoot, could you repeat that please?” Sirius took ahold of Remus’ shoulders. “Do you want to go apartment hunting with me tomorrow?” Sirius was over enunciating and almost shouting in his ear - he was leaning in so close that they were barely two inches apart. Remus blushed at the sudden contact and pushed Sirius away, playfully glaring at him. Despite his plans to tell Sirius about his imminent departure from their current living situation, he treasured his time with Sirius, and apartment hunting, though taxing, seemed like a nice way to pass the time. He shrugged. “Sure, why not. I work at four, so before then?” Sirius nodded enthusiastically, silky black hair bobbing along with him, not unlike a dog waiting for a treat. “It’s a date!”
Remus reddened at the insinuation and stood up. Living with Sirius, just Sirius - at Hogwarts, James and Peter had been there; here, it was them alone together, and thus felt much more intimate - had been an adjustment, but Remus felt he was finally getting used to it. However, Sirius’ infamously flirtatious nature had manifested into coy touches and teasing jibes, and Remus found himself getting caught off guard more than he was comfortable with. “Well, I’m off to bed, but we’ll leave around eleven tomorrow?” Remus nodded, grinning at Sirius, excited despite himself. He fell into bed with red cheeks and a wide smile, and dreamt of broad grins, black hair, and pale skin.
***
The sun was bright, the air was clear, the sky was blue, and Remus was in pain. Last night, he had gone to bed feeling perfectly fine (his hip was aching, but when was it not?). The absence of pain was a rare occurrence for Remus, so mild aches and pains were normal for him. This morning, he had woken up with his hip throbbing, and the pain only intensified from there. Sirius had left a note saying (in beautiful, glamorous cursive - Sirius seemed to drip elegance and magic wherever he went; Remus always thought that this wasn’t simply a symptom of his high-class upbringing; Sirius must simply carry magic with him wherever he goes, thrumming through his veins, emanating from his very pores) that he’d meet Remus at the Leaky, so his only saving grace was that he didn’t have to expend extra energy trying to look like he wasn’t in pain.
Upon trying to get dressed and realizing that he could barely move, he decided to use the pain relieving ointment that Lily, bless her heart, had given him for his birthday a couple months ago (it was very expensive, so its status as a gift was well deserved, at least price-wise). He took a small dab of it and rubbed it on his hip, and closed his eyes in relief as the pain abated. He got dressed, walked out the door, stared down the narrow stairwell, turned back, took his cane, walked back out, and apparated to Hogsmeade.
It was a short walk to the Leaky, even with Remus’ slow amble taken into consideration, so Remus got there fairly quickly. Stepping through the door, Remus sat down at the nearest available table, hanging his cane on the back of his chair with his coat concealing it - he didn’t want Sirius to baby him. The morning was the least busy time at the Leaky - there was barely anyone there, save for a tired, worn-looking old man looking forlornly at his firewhisky, seemingly searching for life’s secrets in the depths of his drink, and another customer who looked unsavory enough that Remus made sure not to stare.
Looking in the window, Remus saw that his hair looked like a bird had perched there and proceeded to make a nest and family on his head, so he frantically patted his hair down until it looked like something not resembling James Potter’s own chaotic head of hair. On James ‘Golden Boy’ Potter, messy hair looked endearing, but on Remus ‘Moony’ Lupin, messy hair encouraged a resemblance between himself and a patient at St. Mungo’s psychiatric division. Looking back at the window and resigning himself to what he saw in his reflection, he settled in his chair.
Sirius was nowhere to be found, but this wasn’t a surprise to Remus - he probably got distracted by Honeydukes or something of the sort. It was another ten minutes until Sirius arrived, pink-cheeked (he forced himself to look away) and teary-eyed from the wind. His shoulder-length hair, unlike Remus’, was blown in such an artful way that Remus thought even nature must bend to Sirius’ whims; that would be the most rational explanation for Sirius’ annoying habit of looking perfect no matter the occasion. Sirius rushed over, ordered two butterbeers, and sat down.
“Merlin, Remus, I’m sorry I’m late - I got here early, but then I saw that Honeydukes got a new shipment of Chocolate Frogs, and I wanted to get some for James, and there were Sugar Quills which you know Peter loves, and I wanted to give them to him as a peace offering because you know we had that row last week, and there was a line… anyway. Were you waiting long?” Sirius looked so troubled at the prospect of Remus waiting for Sirius alone that he shook his head and lied.
“No, don’t worry. I woke up late, so I got here right before you did.” Sirius looked relieved, and sighed, leaning back in his chair. Their butterbeers arrived, and Sirius immediately took a long gulp (it was almost obscene, to be honest - Remus couldn’t stop staring at his Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp - God he needed to get laid), and finally put the drink down, wiping his mouth. He looked at Remus’ face, shifted his gaze to his hair (oh no) and smirked, “So, Remus, did you accidentally Apparate into a tree?” (There it was).
Remus scowled into his butter beer, taking an extremely long drink to avoid responding - maybe all unsavory commentaries on Remus’ appearance would miraculously vanish from Sirius’ mind by the time he set his drink down. When he finally did set his drink on the table, Sirius was determinedly looking at the table with a furious blush on his face.
“What? Did you see Mary?” Sirius and Mary had broken up recently, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Sirius still harbored feelings for her. “What? No, I just… remembered something.” He scratched his arm. “I, uh, had a shipment at work I forgot to tell my boss about.” Remus narrowed his eyes. “Right.” If Sirius wanted to hide his feelings for Mary, that was his prerogative. He just hoped Sirius knew he wasn’t fooling anybody. “So. Where’s the first building we’re visiting?” Sirius clapped his hands together in a show of enthusiasm, and set his hands on the table. “We’re going to London!” Remus rolled his eyes, “Remind me, where have we been living so far?” Sirius ignored him (although Remus saw his mouth twist in amusement) and grabbed his hand. Remus let himself get pulled out of the pub, half-empty butterbeer forgotten.
As soon as they got outside, Sirius let go of his hand, which suddenly felt hot and sweaty. “Ready for side-along?” Remus’ stomach rolled in preemptive nausea, but he nodded anyway. He felt a pull behind his belly button, cold trickling down his spine, and soon landed on dark gray cobblestones on unsteady feet, making him stumble. He heard Sirius say something but he felt too nauseous and wobbly to pay attention - he had landed on his left foot particularly hard and now his hip was blazing in pain just as bad, or worse than it was in the morning. He groaned and leaned back against the wall behind him, feeling sweat bead on his temple. He was too tired for this. He opened his eyes to see Sirius in front of him, worry creasing his brow, mouth downturned. He had a feeling Sirius wasn’t hiding a smile this time. “Remus, why didn’t you tell me you hurt your hip?” Remus used the wall to push himself forward back onto his feet. “I didn’t hurt my hip, I woke up like that. And I’m fine, let’s go.” Ignoring the ever-increasing twinge in his hip, he started walking out of the alley into the street. Or, rather, he tried to, but Sirius reached a pale, ring-clad hand out and gently pushed him back into the alley. “If your hip is hurting, let’s go home. I don’t want to make it worse. Did you use the ointment Lily got you? Dammit, I should’ve gotten you an extra pot for your birthday, but-”
“I’m okay, I promise. See?” Remus walked around a bit to show him (yes, he was fine, if fine meant gritting your teeth and clenching your fists in your pockets to avoid groaning in pain). Sirius narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “I don’t know, Remus, the full is coming soon, and I know it gets harder for you right around this time, so maybe we should head back home… I’ve got some forms to fill out anyway for my boss…” He trailed off once he saw the look on Remus’ face. “My hip is fine. Okay? Let’s go.” He pushed past Sirius, who soon fell into line with him (albeit with a long sigh of repressed disagreement) when he saw that Remus was set in his decision. Remus stopped when he got to the street and looked at Sirius, who looked back at him in confusion. He gestured with his hand, “So, lead the way, then.” Sirius nodded in understanding and grabbed Remus’ hand, leading him down the street. Now that they were walking with direction, Remus realized that he had forgotten his cane at Leaky’s, and lamented his carelessness. He’d just have to soldier his way through today - his prize, his finish line could be his warm bed with a cup of tea and a book. Maybe he’d invest in a blueberry scone from the café across the street as a treat for his toil.
A middle aged woman with a severe look to her wrinkled face rudely stared at their intertwined hands as she walked by, and Sirius let go of Remus’ hand like it was on fire. Looking at Sirius, he could see a red flush snaking its way up his neck. He understood, but that didn’t stop a wave of shame from overtaking him. It’s not like they were even doing…. that. He didn’t have to feel guilty - there’d be no reason for him to be guilty unless- did Sirius know about him? Remus thought he hid his true feelings for Sirius fairly well, but maybe not. Maybe he was more obvious than he thought he was. Oh God, was he? Suddenly all he wanted to do was sink into the dirty cobblestones he was walking on and die. He was just about to tell Sirius that he wanted to go home (self-suffocation by way of bed sheets sounded like heaven right now) when a rowdy teenager roughly shoved him as he ran by, making Remus stumble. Sirius quickly grabbed ahold of him, helping Remus regain his balance. Looking at Sirius, he didn’t seem as though he knew Remus was feeling any feelings other than very platonic ones. No ‘frightened rabbit’ look was present, no pursed look of awkwardness… maybe he was a bit more gentle than usual, but that could just be owed to the small problem of his lycanthropic condition, the side effects of which were making itself especially known today (aches and pains in his bones? Check. Crippling awareness of everything, everywhere, all the time? Check! The urge to yell at anyone who dared to disagree with him? Double Check!). Pushing all thoughts of Remus Lupin and the ‘Does Sirius Know About His Crippling Obsession with Him and His Glorious Hands’ debacle, he decided to push ahead and ignore any discomfort, mental or physical.
However, after a garbage truck drove by and a gaggle of particularly loud teenagers walked past them (multiple times - the powers that be, if they did exist, must’ve had a grudge with Remus, because this was getting ridiculous), Remus was ready to throw the resolve he possessed not five minutes ago to the wind and tell Sirius that he felt like his head was about to explode. He would’ve done exactly that had Sirius not suddenly made a sharp turn to the left. Just like that, the stuffy city opened into a quiet, clean tree-lined street with beautiful townhomes on either side. Remus sighed in relief.
Sirius glanced at him, hearing his sigh, “What’s wrong? You’re okay?”
Remus looked up from the ground, “What? Oh, no, yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit all over the place today. I’m fine,” Remus drew in a huge breath, “better now that everything’s quieter, actually. Yeah. I’m fine, though,” Sirius looked as though he thought everything Remus had just said was bullshit. Oh, well. Repeating that ‘he’s fine’ three times in one sentence probably didn’t help. “Well, bad news, Moony: you’re a spectacularly horrid liar. Good news: we’re just about at our first apartment! It’s right up there, next block.” He pointed at a charming house just up the street. “Now, I’ll be honest, I did go on a little tour by myself, just to make sure I didn’t drag you around to God knows what miserable shack for no reason.” He sighed. “But, I didn’t really look inside; I just peeked. I wanted to save the real thing for when you were with me.” He smiled at Remus (oh God, he smiled at Remus), “Anyway, our appointment is for thirty minutes - I didn’t want anybody in at the same time as us.”
Remus bashfully smiled at the ground, “You didn’t have to do that, you could’ve just-” Sirius interrupted him with a point of his finger: “No! You’re my roommate, and I’m your roommate, and you’re one of my best friends. I didn’t want to do this without you. And I definitely didn’t want to have a flock of people following us around and interrupting our very important, very specific house screening process.” Remus wrinkled his nose, “...house screening process?” Sirius gasped, “Moony! This is a travesty, you know. This is exactly why I wanted to take you with me! The learning opportunities here are simply endless.” He made a gesture with his hands as if he were measuring the length of the aforementioned opportunities. They reached the townhouse he had pointed to, and Sirius bound up the stairs and rapped the great bronze doorknob.
The townhome was adorable: it was made of dark red brick, with a beautiful oak door right in the middle. Next door was a house that looked almost identical, except a section of the house, on the left side, was painted in a horrid neon purple that he thought nobody would’ve chosen as a color except for a very small child. Or, perhaps, a color blind person. Peering into the window (it wasn't creepy, it wasn’t, he was just curious, and they didn't have curtains! What kind of person doesn’t have curtains?!), his initial suspicions were confirmed by the presence of the high chair next to the dining table. Sirius called out, “Hey, weirdo, stop looking in their window!” Remus sputtered, “Merlin, Sirius, they have no curtains! One can hardly blame me!” Sirius shrugged, “Remus, you’re a peeping Tom. Accept it.” Turning his attention back to the doorbell he had rapped, he sighed in annoyance, “God, why won’t she answer the bloody door!?”
Remus decided to begin the trying ordeal of walking up the stairs to get to the door. Every day that passed, Remus became increasingly more aware that he had the knees of an arthritic eighty year old. After a few minutes of Sirius repeatedly (and annoyingly) (and increasingly aggressively - patience was not a virtue that Sirius seemed to possess) rapping the doorbell, a very frazzled looking, small woman dressed in an extremely bright pink skirt suit answered the door. “Yes, hello, what?” Clenching the doorframe in repressed annoyance, and slapping a dazzling smile on his face, Sirius answered, “Hi, yes, we’re here for my appointment?” The woman just stared back at him in confusion. “Appointment…”
“Yes, appointment to tour this residence?” This evidently did not help, for the woman was starting to look annoyed.
“I live here, I don’t let anyone tour this residence. Now kindly leave, before I call the police.” She gave a tight smile before slamming the door.
Sirius swiveled on his heel and stared at Remus like he had personally caused this problem. “Sirius, I think you might’ve made a mistake-” Sirius stared at Remus as if he wanted to bore a hole in his forehead (when he first met Sirius, Remus thought that he really must not like him, but after this happened again a couple times, Remus realized that this was Sirius Black’s ‘thinking face’), and Remus obediently waited for whatever The Great Sirius Black would decide next.
After a few seconds of taut silence, Sirius sighed. “Merlin, Moony, I’m so sorry. I dragged you over here when you were so uncomfortable -” Remus started in protest - “-no, don’t try to argue, I know it’s true - and we can’t even go inside?!” Sirius sighed in annoyance, descending the stairs, “I swear it’s the right house, but the real estate agent must’ve been a fake. God, I don’t know why I fell for that.” Looking at Remus with a worried glint in his eye, “Remus, do you want to go back home? If I’m being honest, I’m pretty knackered - I went to bed about-” He glanced at his watch - “three hours ago, and all I really want is to sleep.” Remus thought that he might be lying, but then again, Sirius went to bed at around the same time as Remus, which, if he recalled, was around three in the morning. Hmm.
“Sirius, if you’re truly not lying just because you’re worried about me - which I know you’d do, because you have done that, so don’t try to say you haven’t - let’s keep going, I don’t mind.” At this point, Remus heaved a great sigh, hoping he could expel all the aches and pains from his joints with one exhale, “But if you actually are tired, which -" He looked Sirius up and down with more scrutinizing attention, "- you do kind of look like shit, if I’m being honest-” Sirius rolled his eyes at this and jutted out his leather pant-clad hip in protest- “-let’s go home.”
At that, Sirius waited for Remus to step down the stairs (which took a not insignificant period of time, if Remus was being honest), and placed his hands on Remus’ shoulders. “Moony, I’m genuinely exhausted. I actually feel like I might keel over here and now, so please let’s go home." Remus stared at Sirius for a second, trying to tell if he was lying. Sirius really did look tired. Remus sighed and nodded in acquiescence. Once Sirius saw Remus was done with his inspection, he stood up from his slouch. "Side-along with me?” Remus nodded in agreement, looped his arm with Sirius’ and closed his eyes in painful anticipation for the nausea that apparition always brought.
After a few seconds of his scrunched-eyed waiting, Remus cracked open an eye to find Sirius staring at him with a soft smile on his face, head cocked slightly to the left as if trying to memorize Remus’ face. Realizing Remus was watching him, Sirius cleared his throat, looked away, and tightened his hold on Remus’ arm, and apparated back to their cramped, but lovely, apartment.
***
“SIRIUS! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SOCK YOU BLOODY WANKER!” Remus was hopping around on one foot, waiting for the aforementioned sock to miraculously appear in his palm via the great powers of spontaneity, or else a black-haired, pale-skinned, ring-wearing devil to slide into his doorway to deliver said sock into his hands. His foot, his poor naked foot, was sockless, and Remus could not abide cold floors. He dealt with enough uncomfortable sensations on a daily basis, the majority of which he didn't ask for and were instead thrust upon him like an aunt giving you leftover scarves no one wants for Christmas. Of course, his own predicament involved an exponentially larger amount of discomfort, but the comparison still stands. He didn’t need cold feet on top of everything else. His apparently irrational ire could also probably be owed to the date. Peeking out the window, Remus glanced at the moon and its contemptibly full current state of being. Glaring at it like the moon had personally shone a path leading to his house, urging Greyback to bite him, Remus fell onto his bed and groped under his bed frame, trying to find the sock.
Remus Lupin did not consider himself to be a superstitious person. Above almost all else, he valued logic and rationality, and functioned as such. However - Remus wore these socks every full moon. That prank, that awful, horrible night? It fell on a day when, surprise surprise, Remus had lost his lucky (Merlin, how pathetic. Remus Lupin had lucky socks) socks. Lying back onto his bed in complete desolation, he mourned their absence and prayed to whatever divine entities he could think of that nothing bad, or rather, unusually bad, would happen tonight. Remus was suddenly treated to the wonderful sound of his door banging open, smacking against the wall, and lifted his head up to see Sirius standing in his doorway with his sock. His glorious, glorious sock.
Remus sighed in relief, glared at Sirius (he, after all, was the offender) and took the sock. Sirius pursed his lips, clearly trying to hide his amusement, and leaned on the doorway. Even wearing sweatpants and a hoodie (after all, what use are leather pants when you’re an enormous black dog), Sirius looked like he belonged on the runway.“Right-o, Moony, sorry about that. You almost ready to go? Prongs and Wormy are meeting us there.” Remus nodded, frowning. He could almost feel his bones rattling, his blood boiling in preparation for the night to come. “Let’s go.” Sirius smiled weakly, took Remus’ clammy hand, and apparated them to the Whomping Willow.
Remus always missed Pomfrey and her gentle, motherly touch, but on the full moons, staring at the Whomping Willow, Remus always felt that ache more acutely - he could feel his heart tighten, aching for someone to hold him and tell him that he could be gentle too, he could be tender, and loving, and careful, and not just exist as the monster he morphed into every month, something that was angry and violent, something that felt just as much a part of him as his bones, as his tendons, the sinew in his body.
But at the same time, that violence, that aggression, felt coiled at the bottom of his stomach like a cancer, like a parasite. Remus wanted nothing more, sometimes, than to grab ahold of that slimy thing, that darkness that pulsated in between the beats of his humble heart and scream that it wasn’t welcome, it wasn’t safe in the sacred, hallowed space between his ribs. On dark, lonely nights, he pictured reaching a bloody hand into the spaces between his bones, his ribcage, grasping that slithering darkness that wreathed, winding through his bones and viscera like a snake, and Avada’ing it until it was nothing but an atom, nothing but blood where he used to be.
The irony was that that would confirm its perennial, inescapable presence in Remus Lupin’s blood, his being, his very soul. Destroying that which he hated with the power he knew he had, which he longed to wield like a sword, like a bloody knife, would make him nothing more than that very thing he loathed. Remus Lupin was an ouroboros. Looking up at the navy night sky dotted with bright stars, he laughed darkly to himself, repeating it like a hideous prayer: Remus Lupin was an ouroboros.
***
Pain. Pain all over his body, like nothing he’d ever known, pain pain pain pain pain pain-
***
His fingers grasp at something soft and cottony. He rubs the material between his fingers, coaxing himself awake. He opens his eyes: a ceiling. He looks to the right, to the left - both of his arms, his hands are still there. He looks up and over to his legs and feet, which are indeed still attached to the rest of his body. A sigh of relief. He lets sleep overtake him again.
***
Again, a soft material between his fingers. This time, he feels a hand grasp his and squeeze. He clears his throat and blinks his eyes open. He does a quick check: arms, legs, midriff look normal. He sighs in relief and follows the hand grasping his own upwards until he’s looking at a tired, pale face framed by long black hair. A mouth smiles sadly. "Hiya, Moony, finally woke up properly?"
He nods.“Sirius-'' He clears his throat, “Sirius, what’re you doin’ here?” His words are slurred, but intelligible. Sirius frowns, eyes suspiciously watery, and clears his throat.
“Remus, don’t you remember?” He shakes his head. Sirius sighs, looking more exhausted and fragile than Remus had seen him in a long time. An alarming thought enters his head, and he looks at Sirius more alertly. “Did I hurt anyone? Where’s Prongs? Wormtail?” He looks around frantically. “Oh God - are they okay? Where are they? Can I see them?” Sirius laughs quietly and takes ahold of Remus’ hands (oh God, Sirius Black is touching his hands but now is most definitely not the time for that) and gently pushes Remus back onto the bed.
“Everyone is fine - you didn’t hurt anyone. Well, actually, Prongs has a bit of scratch or two, but that’s nothing.” He puts his hands behind his head and leans back. “I’ve gotten worse from a paper cut. Wormtail left fairly soon after -” Sirius stops himself. Remus’ stomach sinks. “After what, Sirius?” he asks quietly, feeling dread in every cell of his body.
“Well, you see,” Sirius starts, “I don’t know why, but last night you were very set on biting and snapping at us.” Upon seeing the troubled look on Remus’ face, Sirius clarifies, “Not biting us, Moony. You were trying to bite yourself.” He frowns. “We tried to stop you, but you’re - well, Moony, you’re strong. You fought us and,” He stops here, breathing in deeply, seemingly ashamed of what he’s about to say, “quite a few of your injuries are from us.” Remus frowns, looking at his legs. “My injuries?” Sirius nods dolefully. “You’ve got a broken ankle and wrist, two concussions, bruises and a lot of scratches and bites from when you were trying to hurt yourself.” He purses his lips. “We tried, but you managed to do quite a bit of damage. To yourself, that is. Like I said, you didn’t hurt us.” He looks down. “Don’t worry.”
Remus sighs in a combination of relief and bone-deep exhaustion, feeling ribs twinge with his deep breath. He didn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t hurt anyone. He’ll repeat that to himself as long as he can. He didn’t hurt anyone. Remus Lupin didn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t hurt anyone. He takes Sirius’ hand, squeezes as hard as he can, tries not to cry, and repeats that mantra to himself until he falls back asleep. He didn’t hurt anyone.
***
“Prongs, for Merlin’s sake, I’m fine, you don’t have to carry me - “ Despite his very vocal protests, he was loathe to admit, James’ arms were extremely comfortable. “That’s funny, Moony, I was under the impression that you were the sick damsel in distress, and I was the handsome young lad sent to save you from imminent danger, or worse,” He gasps, because what is James Potter if not dramatic, “death!” Moony glares at James, who only smiles in response, warm brown eyes crinkling with mirth.
After that ill-fated night (he supposes his lucky socks aren't so lucky after all), Sirius Black and Co. rushed Remus into the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Remus wasn’t a student anymore, it’s true, but Pomfrey was the only Healer who knew of his condition who wouldn’t immediately report him to the Ministry. It was an added bonus that it was the middle of the night, so no one was wandering the halls, and it was a miracle on top of that that no one was occupying the Hospital Wing.
Remus was later told that Pomfrey had immediately set about tending his wounds, during which Remus had been unconscious, and remained so for two days, waking up briefly, sleeping for one more day, and then finally waking up more permanently. Pomfrey fussed over him, Remus blushed with shame and embarrassment at the attention, and promised to take care of himself after Pomfrey gave him a lecture on the importance of calcium and spinach in his diet (("Remus, you've got to drink some milk! You need the calcium - and make sure to have at least three salads a week, dear boy - don't forget your greens, or your protein for that matter, you're looking awfully skinny these days-") .
Before they left ('they' consisting of Sirius, James, Peter, and Lily, who James had sent a Patronus to as soon as they got to the Hospital Wing), Remus managed to extricate himself from the group for a minute, and privately asked Madam Pomfrey for a vial of Dreamless Sleep. She gave it to him, albeit hesitantly, frowning with worry. He took it with a grateful smile, promising to take better care of himself and get some sleep. He also promised to visit Pomfrey next month to say hello and update her on the goings-on of Remus Lupin’s Exciting (and Healthily Lived, With Much Spinach, of course) Life.
James walked up the stairs, still holding Remus, opened the door, and set Remus down on the sofa. Remus sighed. “Thanks, Prongs.” He really was grateful; although he didn’t have to wear Muggle casts for weeks - Pomfrey had fixed the breaks and sprains with a wave of her wand - Remus’ ankles and wrist ached with a throbbing intensity that was hard to ignore. Walking, therefore, was an unnecessary evil (at least according to James ‘I Need to Help Everybody At All Times and At All Places’ Potter, who, with a cursory glance, immediately determined that Remus ‘Limpy’ Lupin was not ready to walk). While Remus hated being babied and fussed over, he was internally grateful for James - walking up three flights of stairs to his apartment seemed like a trying ordeal on a normal day, let alone right now, recovering from several injuries.
By the time they got up the last couple of stairs, James was red and gleaming with sweat, and Remus was incredibly embarrassed (but, he might add, extremely comfortable) and ready to be set down. “Thanks, Prongs. You really didn't have to do that, you look like you’re completely knackered.” Remus stuck the key in the door and opened his door. James rolled his eyes, “Right, Moony, I’m the one that looks knackered, not you, who spent three days in the Hospital Wing. Please, tell me more.” James walked through the doorway into the apartment and plopped on the sofa, lying down with his head on the arm rest. Remus had decided to make a cup of tea, and was in the kitchen waiting for his kettle to whistle. “Moony?” James had sat up on the sofa and rested his head on the back so he could look at Remus while still sitting down. Remus turned around, recognizing James’ ‘serious voice’, “Hmm?”. James looked down, pursing his lips, took a deep breath, seemingly trying to muster up the will to say whatever was on his mind.
“Remus, why was Moony trying to hurt himself that night?” Remus jerked back as if slapped, and turned back around to face his kettle, which hadn’t begun whistling yet. “James, you know I don’t know. I don’t remember any of it. Moony does what he does, I don’t have any part in it.” Remus heard James sighing in disappointment, and knew that he had to tell James at least part of the truth, or else he'd have to face Disappointed James™, which he tried to avoid as much as possible.
Picking at his fingernails (he really ought to break that habit, but he couldn't help it) with rapt attention, he began to speak.“Prongs, I- I’m very angry, sometimes. I’m very tired. I’m exhausted, and you have no idea how hard it is to have to live knowing that you’re capable of- of tearing someone apart like string cheese.” Remus looked down at his feet, as if Accio’ing his ‘lucky socks’ could get him out of this conversation. “I feel him sometimes, you know? I feel Moony. The wolf. Sometimes I get so angry, and I swear I can feel him, hear him telling to-” Remus sighed.
“To what, Moony?” James had spoken very quietly, as if he knew what Remus was about to say. He almost couldn’t hear James over the whistling of the kettle. “Telling me to destroy. To lay waste to everything, to kill and destroy and kill again, till there's nothing left but me, alone. I’ve dreamt of it, you know. I can feel him.” Remus looked up at James, who had a troubled expression on his face, “Of course, it’s not constant. And I’d never… do that. But, you know. It’s tiring.” He frowned. “And I worry.”
James looked at Remus and smiled sadly. “Remus, I know, we all know that you’re not Moony, or at least that part of him. You’d never do that. You’re Remus Lupin.” He chuckled, “You’re the guy who stayed up three nights in a row to help the rest of us study for our NEWTs. You’re the one who comforted Lily when her parents died. You’re the guy who helped Danny handle his bite and sent him letters everyday, trying to make it less scary for him.” James exhaled a great gush of air, “Remus, you give so much of yourself away every day that you forget that you’re worth kindness too. You’re worth compassion. You have to remember that. Be compassionate to yourself. Whenever you hear Moony howling in your head, don’t be scared. It’s just a wolf. It's just your head.”
James stood up off the sofa and walked over to stare at the still-whistling kettle with Remus, who had a tight feeling in his chest, as if someone had wrapped a hand around his heart and squeezed. His chest ached.
James looked at Remus, “If you’re afraid of being a killer, or a bad person, just remember this: the world isn’t split between good people and bad - we’ve all got both light and dark in us. Just choose the light every time.” He smiled with soft eyes. “Choose the light, or else come to us and we’ll help you find your way back. Just don’t hide away in that mind of yours. It sounds scary in there.”
James looked back at the kettle and turned the stove off. “Merlin, Remus, do you want to die of gas poisoning? Make your bloody tea already!” Remus got out a mug and a teabag, feeling warmer than he had in a long time. “James?” He looked over at Remus from where he’d sat back on the sofa, “Yeah?” Remus smiled. “Thanks.” James just smiled, settled deeper into the sofa and closed his eyes.
***
The weeks passed slowly and softly. Something seemed to have changed inside Remus; he didn’t feel that sharp pang of hatred as often, didn’t feel the urge to bash his own head in the wall to get all his anger out. He felt calmer. Sirius seemed to have forgotten about moving into a new apartment - Remus was secretly happy about this, and therefore didn’t feel any pressing urge to remind Sirius of his plans anytime soon. Sirius seemed happy enough, bounding around the apartment, racing from party to party, to work, back home, still finding time to relax in between the chaos.
Remus sometimes thought time must bend to Sirius’ will, or else he must have an unlimited supply of energy - Remus would get home from work and feel like the only thing he had the energy to do was fall into bed and remain there for days. Anyway, the days passed, the weeks passed, and soon Remus found himself on the roof again, staring up at the night sky and hoping against hope that the full moon tomorrow wouldn’t bear too much of a resemblance to the bloody nightmare that last month's did. He still couldn’t see the stars (he internally cursed London's city pollution and looked longingly back to the clear, star scattered night sky of Hogwarts), but if he squinted, he could pretend that he was looking at Ursa Major, or Cassiopeia. He closed his eyes, feeling his blood thrumming through his veins, his hip throbbing, feeling the cool night air in his lungs, breathing in and out slowly. He sighed in contentment. He’d be fine. He’d be fine. Hearing someone race up the stairs and open the door to the roof, he opened his eyes and saw Sirius staring at him with a soft smile on his face, the moon’s light shining on him like a halo.
“Alright, Moony?” Remus smiled back, feeling the ache in his chest subside, warmth taking its place. “Alright, Padfoot.”