War Times
At Hogwarts — when you’re sharing a dorm with three other people who you also happen to share all your classes with, and who are your best friends — minutes alone are few and far between. And for someone like James Potter those minutes were pure boredom, but at the ripe age of 15 — going on 50 — Remus wished he had more.
Well, hypothetically at least. In practice those minutes alone tended to clot together into some of the worst of his life. The bite, the prank, almost every moment with the wolf for his entire life. Until the Marauders that was.
So it could be said that maybe, deep down, Remus didn’t actually mind his friends lack of boundaries. Possibly. And if they all wanted to squeeze under James’ fancy cloak and follow along to his meeting with Dumbledore, he might not mind that either.
The only thing was, for all the pranks they pulled, the marauders were truely shit at sneaking.
“Ow! James that’s my foot.”
“We’ll change into Padfoot you wanker, Wormtail did”
“I can’t! Padfoot gets too excited around Remus”
“Why— Pete stop eating all the crisps!”
They were load, their bickered whispers and Wormtails panicked squeaks echoed through the halls and Remus could smell the fact that they weren’t even trying to keep a safe distance. That coupled with the escalating tiff, and the trail of crumbs behind them — why had they brought snacks? — and Remus had to begrudgingly cast a few dissolutionment, and silencing charms as they stumbled up the stairs after him.
“Ahh, Mr Lupin,” Dumbledore chimed. A welcome Remus was sure he practiced in the mirror — with just enough acknowledgement to undercut the feigned surprise of a man who had asked to see you at an agreed upon time. “Come in my boy, lemon drop?” Remus shook his head, sitting where Dumbledore had gestured him too. “Can’t get enough of them myself! Muggle sweets are just fascinating.”
Remus nodded not really knowing what to say, he had read somewhere that Dumbledore was a half-blood and the ‘confused wizard’ act had never quite sat right with him after that.
“You wanted to see me Professor?”
“Ahh yes…”
—
James Potter had been raised in a house made of truth and kisses from the moment he was born. It had made him kind, and honest, and in the previous year it had made him very aware of what was going on in the war. Euphemia Potter after all, was not one to sugar coat.
The war was killing people on both sides, there had been countless casualties already and not nearly enough progress on either side to justify any sacrifice at all. The worst of it was yet to come and people were being dragged in blind to what they were fighting for.
James was not going to let Remus be one of those people.
“He’s fucking mad! I don’t care who he is, what right does he have ordering you to do something like that?!”
Remus sighed from his perch on the windowsill. Sirius had been hurriedly smoking as if it was the only way he could breath since they had gotten back from Dumbledores office and Remus had joined him, cigarette burning out unsmoked in his hand. “I’m the only one who can do it James, and he didn’t order me, he just— he just strongly suggested it was the right thing to do.”
“Bollocks!” James looked towards the other Marauders, Sirius: mute, and Peter: playing gobstones by himself. “Why is no one else pissed off by this?”
“Well…we’re gonna to join in when we’re of age anyway right?” Peter said indifferently. “Isn’t a couple of extra years helping out a good thing?”
”Join in!? Join in!” James was fuming and the boy finally looked up from his game, a bit paler than a few seconds ago. “This isn’t fucking quidditch camp Pete this is a war, people are actually dying and Dumbledore wants to send out mate into a pack of known death eater werewolves to get information for a bunch of grownups who could do it themselves!”
“No they can’t— I’m the only one—“
”You’re not Remus!” James huffed, trying to catch Sirius’ eyes again, there was no way he was okay with this. “There are other adult werewolves out there who aren’t supporters of you-know-you, and no offence mate but they probably at least know how to apperate away if it all goes to shit.”
It was Remus’ observation when he started Hogwarts, that while he might have been born in his 80s that James, Sirius, and pretty much everyone else had not, with the exception of perhaps Lily Evans.
It was with this observation that he had based his entire view of their friendship. He understood the concept of a debt and that he owed his education to Dumbledore, but almost all of his happy memories were owed to the Marauders. He had made a vow to protect them, and when the war came to a head and his three enthusiastic friends were all for standing against evil Remus had known that he must get there first.
The answer to Dumbledores offer had seemed obvious at the time. He had only refrained from answering in the moment because the silencing charm was wearing thin on his friends and he hadn’t wanted them to get caught. Only now it felt so much more complicated.
“Moony,” Sirius’ hand rested on his arm. He wasn’t often gentle like this and his eyes swam with sadness. “Maybe you don’t have to.”
Remus held Sirius’ gaze, desperate to know what he was thinking. He had been quiet since coming home from the hols. Racing from the great hall or any public space really after barely showing his face. They had been spending more time together alone and it had quickly become one of Remus’ favourite types of alone.
The roll in his hand had started to burn his fingertips and Sirius’ fingers were tightening in almost a plea. “Fine. I’ll think about it more.”
—
Sirius had wanted to scream, he had wanted to beg and yell until everything stopped and the world was just him and Remus and everything was happy and warm all the time.
Sirius was so sick of screaming. His voice had been run raw over the holidays so much that he hadn’t thought he would be able to speak ever again. It had dropped, and croaked, and broken every time he used it but puberty had been a good enough excuse for everyone. Everyone but Remus.
Remus who wouldn’t ask why he was hurt because he just knew. Remus who would hold him close anyway. Remus who he never wanted to let go of. Remus who was going to leave because of the stupid war. The war that had taken everything from Sirius already and now wanted Remus too.
It was an easy decision on Sirius’ part — albeit one made with a sleep fogged brain and many cigarettes — pulling the curtains away from his best mates bed just to see him. He didn’t really know why he did it but it was easy all the same.
“Sirius,” Remus croaked. “W’ is it.”
“Nightmare.” The lie slipped seamlessly from his lips. Remus just lifted his arm like he always did and Sirius pressed in close beside him. The taller boy huffed into his neck, a question left for him if he wanted to answer. “We were running on a Moon,” Sirius gulped, — it wasn’t a dream but a thought he’d been having — “b’ then you just disappeared, a—and then Prongs just stopped and walked away and Wormy went up a tree and—“
Remus huffed again, but squeezing him tighter. The boy had always teased Sirius for being so dog-ish but he himself was the definition of a protective wolf most of the time.
“You can’t go. Cause if you go I’m going too and I can’t so tell him no.”
Sirius’ head felt heavy, his nose was red and he definitely wasn’t sobbing into Remus’ sleep shirt. “Okay Sirius. I won’t go.”