“In the shadow of the stars
The lighter makes a spark
But I look better in the dark
I look better in the dark”
March 11th 1990
Only once in Remus’ life had his birthday fallen on a full moon. But that was before he was bitten. He could barely remember before he'd been bitten, –Hell, he could barely remember his childhood after that, too– before his dad killed himself. He couldn't even remember his face, or his mom's, for that matter.
His earliest memories were of a soft coo-ing voice, comforting him. “Its alright, Remus. It will feel better soon, all wounds heal eventually.” He could faintly remember the voice, presumably his mom, saying. If only that advice were true.
His heart never healed. It ached when he thought of Sirius. He tried not to, but he lingered there, in his head, Like a tick, that drained happiness instead of blood. Like a permanent tattoo engraved in his mind. And oh, how Remus missed him. He saw him everywhere, in the night sky, in every motorbike he saw on passing roads, in every cup of steaming hot chocolate. Everywhere. And he missed him. Missed his laugh, his kisses, his whispers. And his eyes, oh god, his eyes. Gray like a storm, but never stormy. The way they softened when they looked at him. They were like a window into his soul. And his smile, he missed that too. He missed Sirius’s everything. He hated himself for it, for missing him, for loving him, still, after everything.
And James, he missed him so much it hurt. That wound had never healed, either. He wished he could hear him ramble on about quidditch like he used to, –Remus had hated it, but never had the heart to tell him to shut up– even though Remus only really understood half of what he said. He missed his kindness, how caring he was. After the full moons, he'd always check on him before Quidditch Practice, and even if it was way too early to be awake, and Remus really just wanted to enjoy the rare peace and quiet of the Hospital Wing, Remus always made sure he was awake to greet him. He missed when himself, Sirius and Peter would try to cheer James up after he'd gotten rejected by Lily for the millionth time.
He missed Peter. His jokes and funny stories he always told. Even his incessant whining, worrying and complaining. After all, Remus was always glad he had another cautious one in the group, or else he would have never been able to convince Sirius and James some of the stuff they were doing was not a good idea. He missed his cookies he would bake for all of them when they stayed over at the Potters for Christmas. Even his annoying habit to follow and agree with James without thinking, although that habit had died out over the years.
He missed Lily, her caring nature. Even her complaining about James's constant pestering. Her steadiness and sure-ness in herself in times of crisis. He missed being able to rant with her about whatever new stupid things the other marauders had done now, hell, he missed just being able to talk with her. Even her fiery temper.
Yesterday was his birthday. He turned 30. An age James, Lily, and Peter would never turn. They would stay the same age. Forever 21.
He tried to focus on the fonder memories, former birthdays at Hogwarts, when Sirius, Peter, and James would all sing Happy Birthday loudly in the great hall at every meal, and eventually the whole school would join in. Peter would give him a smile, and James and Sirius would grin like it was their birthdays. Remus would bury his face in his hands after, bright red. Nobody had sung him Happy Birthday in years.
Then, they'd all sneak into the kitchens and gorge themselves on cake. Peter would always end up with frosting all over his face, and Sirius once turned into a dog to lick it all off. James had laughed so hard he started choking as Peter tried to fight Padfoot off, to no avail. Remus couldn't afford a cake, now.
After that, they'd drag him up to the dorm and he'd open all his presents. He always felt guilty that he never had any money to buy presents for them back, before he’d gotten his job over the summers in 5th year, even if they said they'd appreciated his homemade gifts. Sirius had kept all of them, and showed them to him after Hogwarts. He remembered laughing so hard his stomach ached. He hadn’t laughed like that in years, either.
He misses all of this. He misses them.
He wished he had done something, anything, differently. Been brave, like he was supposed to be. Somehow saved Peter and Lily and James. Stopped Sirius from going insane. Done anything to not end up here. In some crypt in an abandoned graveyard, the door locked shut, right before the full moon.
But, he hadn’t. He had been a coward, a fool, to think his few missions were enough. When Sirius and James were risking their lives with real missions, he was out trying to recruit some stupid werewolves. Like that would’ve ever worked, he thought bitterly.
It was ironic. Having his full moons in a crypt. He felt like he was dying, inside and out. Maybe this time he actually would die. He hoped he would die, it would be better than this constant aching in his chest. And as his bones started to stretch, bend, and break, he felt as if his heart was breaking as well.
*********************
Remus knew there was a new scar on his face – that or one had been reopened – because he could feel the hot sticky liquid dripping down his face. He could smell the iron in the air. Taste it on his lips. It made his stomach growl.
He could faintly see the first signs of the sunrise that came in through cracked and dusted windows. He tried to get up, or at least move, but every joint in his body protested. Recently, all his joints in his body protested, full moon or not. A reminder that he was getting older, or a reminder he was broken, inside and out?
Sometimes, he wished he could end it all. It felt unfair he got to live, to age, to get older, when James and Lily didn’t. They were so much more full of life than him, so young, caught up in a war they shouldn’t have any part in. None of them should’ve had any part in it. They were children.
It was then that he thought of another one of his birthdays, the one right before it had all gone wrong. Of how he did feel like an adult, turning 17, but he was really just a child. They all were, regardless of how old they felt. He remembered the excited look in James's eyes when he brought out a sloppily-made 3 layer cake with Remus's name on it.
“Come on, you're turning 17! Of course you need a big cake!” He had said when Remus protested.
He hated that he never knew whether to look back fondly on these memories, or hate them. Not when he also remembered Sirius's ecstatic grin when Remus opened his present, which turned out to be a giant box of sweets from Honeyduke’s, mainly chocolates.
Not when he remembered Peter’s teasing at the gift. “A box of chocolates, Padfoot? Are you loveeee?” to which Sirius had responded with
“Oh, yes, Moony, my beloved-”, while making kissy faces at Remus, before Remus had playfully smacked him on the back of his head.
The whole interaction was painfully ironic, because Sirius did actually love him. Well, at least Remus thought he did. But he'd also loved James, and look how that ended. He hated that he could still love someone so cruel. Because to kill James was like killing an angel. And yet, Sirius had still done it. Not directly, but he still had.
It was all so sad, and yet Remus felt himself laugh, though he had no clue why he would ever laugh. Certainly not because their deaths were funny. Maybe because laughing was better than crying, than hurting. But he quickly stopped his laughter, one of his ribs protesting heavily. Great, he'd broken, or atleast bruised a rib.
He felt himself actually crying, now. His laughter had not been enough to stop the inevitable tears, because he ached. His bones ached. His head ached. His newly opened scar ached. His rib ached. But worst of all, his heart ached. No, It longed. For Peter. For James. For Sirius. It longed for what it would never have. Not anymore, not again. All it had was memories.