Prologue
For a moment it’s peaceful and James doesn’t remember any of it. It’s a distant call of the wind or a soft-spoken lullaby. His mind is hazy and foggy and nothing else matters, like he’s on a cloud above it all. Floating endlessly in the crystal clear blue, like the sea surrounds him completely. He’s buried in its calming tides taking in breaths and feeling them cover him; protect him. Then the storm comes, it’s tragically awful the way the rain runs down. Upturning the sea and leaving nothing in its wake. There’s a searing pain that comes with it. It’s only an ache at first covering his tired limbs, and then he feels the fire spread across his face. It burns; becoming him.
He wakes with a groan and furrowed eyebrows, it only makes the pain worse. The light of the hospital wing overwhelms him. He almost expects to be back in the dorm room. He’s the first one up and he can hear his friends snoring in the beds beside him. Nothing bad has happened. It’s soft and sweet, but he’s lying in a hospital bed and his face is on fire. The night before comes back in flashes. He sees Sirius’ smile cover his entire face, reaching his eyes. He hears Snape’s calls of confusion and fear morphing with Remus’ screams. He feels splinters in his back and sharp claws covering his face. He can still smell the iron in the air, and taste the blood in his mouth. It’s too much, and the longer he sits here staring at the ceiling the more his head begins to pound. It wasn’t real. No, it couldn’t have happened, but he’s in the hospital wing and the memories won’t leave him. They aren’t hazy like those coming from a nightmare, they’re crystal clear in his mind. He can smell the woods around him, and his muscles ache too much for it just to be created in his head.
Struggling to sit up he absent-mindedly rubs his face, trying to clear some of the sleep from his eyes, but it only makes it worse, the taste of blood lingers on his tongue. He freezes, flinching at his own touch.
“I tried everything I could,” Madam Pomfrey appears, peeling back the curtains around him before coming up to the side of his bed. She doesn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing her gaze on his cheek, running across his nose. “There’s something I could give you for the pain, but besides that, I can’t heal it.”
It’s a slow reaction. At first, James doesn’t know what she’s talking about. He feels the pain but doesn’t understand it. His mind is still hazy like it’s still up in the cloud, but then there’s the comedown. He’s falling from the ocean resting on the floor. “No,” he mumbles quickly, “No, I can’t-”
“James…”
He scrambles, but he’s not sure what he’s looking for until he grabs a metal tray from the table next to him, not caring about everything he’s knocking down. The reflection is shaky, and his features are enlarged in places they shouldn’t, but the big red scar tracing over his face is unmistakable. His face drops and his hands shake as he brings it over to rest in his lap. He feels sick. His breath is coming in much too fast, it climbs his chest until it’s overwhelming. He can’t see it. He can’t see it. He can’t see it.
James shakes his head, looking back up to Madam Pomfrey, his eyes burning, “You have to fix it.”
“James…”
“No,” His breath hitches, “You have to fix it. He can’t see it. It’ll kill him. It’ll kill him, you have to fix it. You know it’ll kill him,” his voice cracks, breaking at the seams.
Madam Pomfrey doesn’t say a single word, she just gives a tilt of her head and James knows. There’s nothing they can do. His tears seep into his wound, it burns. He can’t see him like this. It’ll kill him. It’ll fucking kill him.
After everything and every anxiety that’s been pulled out of him, Remus doesn’t like talking about himself, he hardly does it, but James knows he worries. He knows he’d rather distance himself, or move to a Muggle town and lock himself in a room so he wouldn’t have to hurt anyone. He’s so terrified of what he can’t control, and they all swore up and down he’d never hurt them. They promised him it would be okay, even with them coming into the shack every single full moon. James promised it would be okay. So he can’t see it. Not this.
He knows they can’t cure it. He knows wounds from werewolves aren’t able to be healed. He knows there’s nothing they can do. He’s seen Remus come back with countless cuts he can’t do anything with but cover. It’s been better recently with all of them out there, but James still knows how they look. They’re red, puffy, and burn to the touch. Remus always says they don’t hurt that bad, he says he’s used to it, but James still tried to do something about it anyway. He went to Madam Pomfrey and begged her to be able to heal him, to figure something out; anything. No matter what it was or what cost it would pay James swore he would pay it. She just gave him a sad look and told him there was nothing she could do, if there was she’d already do it.
James knows he’ll be left with this scar forever, and he doesn’t fucking care, but Remus can’t see him like this.
Slowly Madam Pomfrey takes the tray from him, placing it back on the table, “It’ll be okay.”
James shakes his head, “No,” it comes out more of a whisper. He feels weak. He feels like a little kid. He’s so small. It doesn’t matter, he shakes his head of the thought, pushing away his tears. “Is he awake?”
She shakes her head, “Not yet, I just brought him back. It’ll probably be another hour before.”
James thinks he sent Peter in there after him. It’s all a blur, and he only could murmur maybe a sentence before his eyes were rolling back and he was dropping to the grass. He hopes Peter understood. He hopes he stayed. Moony is hardly ever alone during the moon now, honestly, James can’t remember the last time he was. There are times when one of them isn't there, but all of them. They’ve even worked out how to work with the summer months. James has gotten good at sneaking out his bedroom window. He’s certain his parents know about it, but he also knows they won’t ask about it as long as he comes home safe. Plus now they know about Remus, they found out during the winter holidays. They don’t know what James does to help, but they won’t stop him from going out to see him. All that’s to say, he hopes Moony wasn’t alone, not after everything.
“Can I sit with him?” James asks, but before he can hear the answer the hospital wing doors swing open and his parents are coming through. Effie is the first to reach him, putting her hands on either side of his face. She doesn’t even look at the scar, she’s just looking at him. For a brief moment he wants to fall into them, he wants to be pet and be adored for a bit. He wants to be told he did a good job. He wants to be praised and protected. He wants to be a little kid again, but he can’t think about it, and he can’t fall into his mother’s chest like he’s still three. The thought of it alone is making his eyes sting, and his skin hurts enough from the rest of it to endure any more pain.
“Oh, baby,” Effie murmurs, dragging him in. Monty comes in right beside her, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder, but James isn’t looking at them. His ears are ringing.
“Please,” he says, even as his parents break away and start petting him. Effie brushes down his hair, while Monty finds his glasses from the bedside table to slip onto his nose. It stings as it lays against his skin, and the world feels almost too real once he has them on. He likes it all a little blurry, he can better pretend he’s still in a dream.
Madam Pomfrey smiles sadly, “You can in a little while, alright James?” She says.
“But-”
The doors open again and McGonagall and Dumbledore are walking through, he sighs and he wants to take off his glasses again. He wants the world to be a little blurry. He at least wants to see Remus before he has to deal with all of this before he’s shot with a million questions. He knows Madam Pomfrey is doing everything she can for him, and truly the physical pain he’s in right now isn’t the worst of it, but James wants to comfort him even in sleep.
When McGonagall reaches the end of his bed her face drops, if only for a second before she can control herself again. James ignores them, brushing off his parents, and he’s about to march himself over to Remus’ bed himself before McGonagall speaks, “Potter? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he pushes out quickly. There are too many eyes on him and he feels too exposed. It feels like if he takes one breath wrong it’ll all come crashing down on him. His chest is weak and he thinks it’s already split in two during the previous night. He’s not sure where to put all his anger. He’s not sure where to put all his devastation either.
McGonagall nods before saying shortly, “Why were you and Snape in the shrieking shack last night?” She says it like it’s a simple question with a simple answer, in all honesty, she probably already knows the answer to it. James doesn’t have the patience for these kinds of questions.
“I was getting him out,” James answers simply.
McGonagall gives him a pointed look, “How did you get there?”
James sighs, “The whomping willow.”
If McGonagall is surprised by the confession she doesn’t show it, “How did you know that the-”
“I can’t remember,” James cuts her off.
McGonagall sighs, “Why would you think of going there in the first place?”
“Listen, Professor, I've lived with him for five years. He’s my best friend,” James tells her, not caring how it comes off, or how quickly he’s speaking.
They found out in the second year, and if James is being honest even while being oblivious and eleven he could’ve figured it out before, Remus just never wanted to admit it. They do everything together; it would be a little impossible for them not to find out about it, even if Remus wanted to keep it hidden all this time.
The silence that follows is short, like a gasp of air after emerging from an ice-covered lake. James takes it, trying to devour all he can take before he takes his own breath and says; no begs, “Now can I please go see Remus now.”
Effie’s hand is on his shoulder, drawing circles around the bone, “James,” she says slowly like she’s approaching a scared child.
James just looks over at her, he’s sure his face is lined with nothing but desperation. “They won’t let me see him.” He whines, “Why won’t they let me see them?”
Effie sends a look over to Monty, who nods in complete understanding, not even needing the words. He turns to the professors before saying, “Could I speak to you outside for a moment?”
James doesn’t pay any attention to the rest of the conversation as they all leave the room, Madam Pomfrey included but he doesn’t fail to notice she walks in the complete opposite direction once she’s passed the curtain. Deeper into the hospital wing, probably over to Remus’ bed to check on him. James watches even long after she’s gone as if that alone could bring him to him. He only looks away when Effie’s hands are on his face dragging him back over to look at him.
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, her hands are cool soothing his hot skin. It’s not that it really hits him, the pain of it all. It sears against his skin, simmering and crackling like pavement in the summer heat. It’s an overwhelming pain that brings his ears to ring. It takes over his face completely, he’s not sure where he ends and where the pain starts. The worst of the pain only comes when it enters his chest, and he thinks about all the mornings Remus has woken up with new cuts bleeding, and ching, all over his body. This is nothing if he thinks about it. One cut, not even, one scratch. One minuscule ounce of the pain Remus is in all the time.
“James?”
This is nothing. He’s in this much pain over a little scratch. It burns across his cheeks, he can feel the puffiness of his skin. He feels so small, but what of Remus? He’s felt this pain tenfold and never talks about it. He’d never in a million years admit to it, he’d sooner cut his hand off, or more likely cut the person who’s asking hand off. The point is he never says anything, and James is near tears for one scratch. It’s not even that deep. It’s not even that bad.
“James.”
After all that pain, after all of it, Remus is lying in that bed alone because no one is letting James over there to see him. He’ll have to go through the worst pain of reliving that night over and over again. He’ll have to look at Sirius and know exactly what he’s done. God, Sirius. He’s not sure how his brain hasn’t stumbled across him. James doesn’t want to think about him, he can’t, he doesn’t even have the space in his head to. He wants to push it all away. He never wants to see his face again with his fucking crooked smile and twisted eyes. He wants to crawl into bed with him like they’re eleven and hide from this awful nightmare. He can’t. No, he doesn’t want to. He just needs to get to Remus. That’s all he needs to do, it’s all he wants.
“James,” Effie calls for a final time, this time he listens.
“Can I go see him?” He asks, his breath hitched as if it’s been stolen straight from his lips.
“Honey, I need you to take a breath, okay,” Effie says, gently rubbing circles against his cheek, careful to avoid the puffy skin.
“Why can’t I see him?” James asks, and for a second he swears the world distorts. He sounds so small like he’s crawling into her bed in the middle of the night because a storm woke him up. Always asking why, having too many questions flying past his mind at all times. There was no other option but to spit them out, trying to reach out and hold onto answers. His parents were always patient with him, they’d answer every single one, and every single “but why?” that would follow, but he’s not that little kid anymore. His questions sink deeper into his chest now, his worry consumes his chest in a way that’s impossible for the innocent to understand.
Effie hesitates, before dropping his face and taking his hands instead, “Last night will be a lot for Remus to handle.”
“So he shouldn’t do it alone,” James tells her. “I’ll sit with him.”
“You will be with him,” Effie says, “You’ll see him when he wakes up, but he doesn’t know he hurt you.” She speaks to him like he’s a child, but he understands.
“Oh.”
“I can sit with him as he wakes up,” Effie suggests. “So he won’t wake up alone.”
James is silent for a long time, staring down at the thin sheet lying over him. “He’s gonna think I’m upset with him.”
“I promise I’ll tell him you’re not,” Effie says, pushing back his hair gently, “You can talk to him as soon as he’s woken up enough.”
James wants to argue. He wants to tell her he wants to be with him anyway. He wants to sit by his bedside and wait until he wakes up. It’ll be awful if it’s not James he wakes up next to, not one of them. He would rather it be Peter if it’s anyone else, but Remus saw him in the shack. James still remembers that look in his eyes when their eyes met. That relief twisted in pure adrenaline and fear. If James isn’t there when he wakes up Remus will spiral. He’ll think something is wrong. James wants to be the first face he sees. He wants to be able to comfort him, but there’s also his deep selfish need to see him. He needs to know that he’s okay, he needs to hold onto him, Even if all Remus will be able to see while looking at James now is the scar covering half his face. He just wants to see him. He knows it might be worse like that, but honestly, he’s not even sure. Remus will see it eventually. He can’t hide it every single day. They’re not delaying it by much.
He almost asks Effie to go get Peter instead, but he doesn’t know how much time is left and he needs to be the one to explain everything. So he grits his teeth instead, “Okay.”
James doesn’t know how long it takes. He thinks it feels longer than it actually is. He doesn’t do anything with his time, staying in the same position as if he’s chained to the bed. No one comes to see him and asks him more questions. He spends the entire time staring at the wall in front of him, trying to listen to the sounds in the room around him as if he’ll be able to hear something out there. All he can hear is the familiar hum of a silencing spell. If there’s something to hear he wouldn’t be able to no matter how badly he tried.
He tries to keep his mind empty, refusing to think of anything of the previous night. He doesn’t want to think about Sirius. If he thinks about Sirius he’ll never stop thinking about him. It’ll become him. It’ll wrap around his chest and he’ll ask too many questions he knows there will never be answers for. He knows it’s inevitable and there’s nothing he can do in the long run to stop it, but he can’t do it right now. He can’t.
His mind stumbles on what this means, what all of this means for everything going forward. Snape knows now. Sirius was the one who told him. Remus will be devastated, and nothing will ever be the same again. James needs to be able to fix these things, but he’s standing in an infinite sea of fog and mist and he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t put everything back in the box. He can’t go back in time and stop it from happening. Even if he could… could anything ever be the same again knowing Sirius is capable of something like that? Of ruining their lives at the drop of a hat? James doesn’t understand, and he doesn’t even know if he wants to. He doesn’t think there’s any way he could, because he knows he would never do this. He would never do this to Remus, but he would’ve never done this to Sirius either.
He’s given a blessing before his thoughts get much worse, and Effie opens the curtain giving him a short smile and a nod, “You can go se-”
She can’t even finish before he’s scrambling out of the bed, tripping over himself to rush past her. He doesn’t care to look at the rest of the room before he runs into the slightly open curtain right beside his own. He doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t think about anything other than seeing Remus, to know he’s alive, to know he’s okay.
“Remus,” he calls out breathlessly as soon as he’s inside. Remus looks the same as he does after every moon, with dark circles under his eyes, or darker than normal. From the looks of it he only has one new scratch on his arm, but James knows the worst of it will be on his chest. It’s covered now so he’s not met with it, he’s just drowned with nothing but relief. It covers him completely and he can finally feel his heartbeat begin to settle between his ribs.
Remus picks up his eyes to look over him, first filled with nothing but relief, and then it tilt distorting into something else entirely; pure fear. His face drops and his eyes go wide as he sits there frozen, his eyes stuck but he’s not looking at James, not really. James watches as his chest fails to rise, and his eyes flicker across his cheek.
“It’s not that bad,” James lies, before taking a seat in the chair next to him. “Really, you’re like a puppy.”
“James…” Remus whispers.
“I’m not upset with you,” James swears.
Remus looks away, back to the curtain as he blinks quickly as if he’s trying to erase the image entirely. James wants to scream, he wants to tell Remus to look over at him again, but he doesn’t, he’s underwater. “What happened?” Remus manages.
James knew this job would land on him, he knew he was the only one who could really, but he still feels his chest tighten at the idea of explaining even the beginning of it. “Snape got passed the tree,” he says, “I ran after him.” He adds, “He’s fine, by the way, I got him out.”
Remus spares a glance over him but he can only hold his gaze for so long before he looks away, “I did that,” he says already knowing the answer.
“It barely hurts,” James tells him. If anyone knows how much it hurts it’s Remus, but James isn’t going to let him know it. He won’t admit it. Even if Remus wants to he doesn’t call him out on it, he just keeps staring at the curtain. James knows he’s thinking about everything that’ll happen after today. He’s thinking about what kind of future he has now that his worst nightmare has come true. James knows he’s gotten stuck on it before, his backup plan. He’d turn himself into a muggle and disappear completely from this world. He’d cut himself off. He’d make himself untraceable, but James has plans too. He’s not going down without a fight, even if Remus plans on ditching this place and running somewhere distant, James isn’t letting go that easy.
Remus doesn’t talk about it though. James almost wishes he does.
“How did he get past the tree?” he asks his words echoing in the near-silent room.
How did he get past the tree?
How did he get past the tree?
How did he get past the tree?
James swallows thickly, “It-” he sighs, he can barely get it out even if the answer sits right behind his teeth, “Sirius told him.”
Remus freezes, turning towards him and for a second, a mere moment, he doesn’t see the scar, “What?”
James nods slowly, “Sirius told him.”
“Why?” Remus asks quickly, his sanity slipping from his lips with each word that leaves his mouth, “Why? Why would he do that?”
James looks at him, he looks at him for a long time trying to come up with something. Trying to figure out exactly how he can spin it, exactly how he could make this better. Instead, he weakly takes a breath, “I don’t know.”
Remus turns away slowly letting the answer sink in. James reaches over grabs his hand and squeezes it, he’s not sure who’s benefit it’s more for.
“I’m sorry,” James whispers.
Neither of them speak for a long time after that.